Equilibrium Fan Fiction by Judas Austin Taking Sides 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 Richardson?!? How could he be the traitor?! The man's about as unlikely a spy as it's possible to get! On the other hand, I suppose that makes him an ideal suspect. Well, I have to hand it to Jurgen and myself. When we screw up, we screw up big time. Not only do we invite a Grammaton agent into our midst, we give him unrestricted access to our most valuable EC-10 and even take him with us. No wonder the Tetra Grammaton have been finding us so easily! I wonder how Halls knew about him. There can't have been any proof, else he'd have got him thrown out, or possibly killed. Then again, I have to confess that there's a lot about Cleric Kevin Halls that baffles me. I'm glad he wasn't around for this. If he's alive and if word ever got back to him, he'd never let me live it down. Not that I think I'm going to be able to anyway. --John Preston, Grammaton Cleric First Class There was a very long, very incredulous silence. "Richardson?" Preston said disbelievingly. "You?" "Yes, me. I must confess I wasn't going to play my hand quite so soon; however, you provided me with such a perfect opportunity that I couldn't resist." "Why?" Partridge said. Richardson sighed. "Once again, your lack of Prozium and therefore logical thought is evidenced. I was instructed to, that's why. My orders came from the Vice-Council himself. I was to gain your trust at all costs, and if possible access to your EC-10. Not only did Jurgen order it concentrated in one area, he was kind enough to put me in charge of it. For a while I wondered if he knew the truth, but if he had done, he would have ordered me killed." "You let the Tetra Grammaton in," Preston stated. "Of course not. I was on the other side of New Libria when they entered, and for your information, Preston, that attack was as much of a surprise to me as it was to you. You were right about one thing, traitor. There was a double agent among you. Luckily for me, you just fixated on the wrong person. My orders were quite clear; bring you in alive. Your incompetence made that a lot easier for me." "Alright," Preston said, thinking fast. "You want me? You've got me. Let Partridge go." "What?" Partridge stared at him. "Don't be absurd," Richardson said coldly. "I came under extreme scrutiny when I told Vice-Council Hagon I'd seen Cleric Partridge. Apparently he was concerned I might have ceased my dose. Bringing him in is the only way I can guarantee to free myself from suspicion." "It was you," Partridge said suddenly. "You killed that kid." "Kernachan? No. Not personally. I sent a subordinate for that task. Given Kernachan's reputation, I believed my assassin would be more than capable of dealing with such an inefficient sense offender." Richardson shrugged, unconcerned. "Clearly I was wrong, as you were kind enough to let me know. I have no idea where the boy is now, but he's no longer of any consequence to me." Partridge shook his head disbelievingly. "Why Kernachan? Why not Preston, or Halls?" "If the rumours about Halls are true, from the age of eighteen he has fought no less than five Cleric-Cleric battles, and emerged from each one unscathed. Three of those were against senior Clerics." Richardson paused. "And that's just the ones he shot. Four more died in suspicious circumstances, and most of the others appeared to come off the dose shortly after being paired with him. Kernachan, on the other hand, ranked twenty nine out of thirty in his final year, and I'm certain he only managed that because one of his classmates unfortunately developed appendicitis and missed four of the six qualifying exams. He's one of the worst Clerics ever to come out of the Monastery." "But he did come out of there, which is more than a lot manage," Preston said flatly. "And straight into a partnership with Cleric Halls," Richardson said. "His misfortunes almost seem to equal yours, Preston." A hot spike of guilt flashed through Preston at the mention of Halls' name. "Leave him out of this," he said flatly. "Don't you think I would have done if I could? I would have killed him myself if I'd had the time. As it was, I didn't, and none of my people were capable of taking on a Cleric of his abilities. Even on Prozium, none of them were stupid enough to even try either. It would have been like asking them to take on you." Preston stiffened slightly, hand twitching. "Yes," Richardson said calmly. "Go on, Preston. Try. We both know that Gun-Kata is an exact science, capable of dealing with almost any combat situation that may arise." He paused for the barest second. "This isn't one of them," he added. It wasn't a joke-Clerics on and off the dose didn't have much of a sense of humour-but something about the way it was said caused Partridge to hurriedly look away, lips twitching slightly in spite of the situation. "If you think-" Preston began heatedly. "You must have noticed certain similarities between you and Halls," Richardson cut across him, his tone easy. "Both orphans, both raised in the Monastery by the Tetra Grammaton, both graduating top of your respective years." Preston hesitated. He'd never, in all his life, wondered about his own parents. He knew they'd both been processed for sense offence when he was little more than a year old, although he'd never bothered to find out anything beyond that. "Your loss," Richardson told him complacently. "Didn't you know the Council kept a very close eye on you right from the start, Preston? The eldest child of sense offenders." Preston frowned. "Eldest? What do you mean, eldest? Take a look at my stats sometime, Richardson; I'm an only child." "I suppose you're right, Preston; your sister can hardly be included in this equation." Preston's jaw fell open. "My what?" "Weren't you aware? You should have studied your parents' files harder." Preston, his mind reeling, didn't answer. He'd never actually studied his parents' files at all; he'd just been told what had happened and had seen file footage of it on the displayers, but he'd never been required or felt any need to know more. "Your mother was two months pregnant when she was processed," Richardson said calmly, as though he was talking about the weather. Preston sat down on one of the boxes, hard. The action didn't look entirely voluntary. "She was what?" he said weakly. Richardson raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you ought to have your hearing checked, Preston. I was instructed to familiarise myself with everything the Tetra Grammaton had on you. Customary procedure for dealing with suspected or confirmed turncoats like yourself." "Bloody rich coming from you!" Partridge said, staring at the other Cleric's shadow in front of him with undisguised loathing. "I serve Libria, Cleric, and the Council. Those who oppose us often have somewhat twisted views, I admit, but as you're both well aware, all viewpoints are completely relative. I don't believe the Resistance have ever called Preston a traitor." "Father was a sense offender, Richardson," Preston said icily. Come on, you bastard, look away... "Whether you look at it from the point of view of the Tetra Grammaton or the Resistance, I was just doing my job." "And I'm just doing mine," Richardson said implacably, as though that settled the matter. "Like back in those Archives of yours." "Oh, so you were being honest about that, were you?" Preston said scathingly. Inwardly he was hoping for Richardson to shift his attention...just for a few seconds. One second was all he needed. After all the shit he'd been through in the last few weeks, surely that wasn't too much to ask? "I've been honest in all our dealings, Preston," Richardson answered smoothly. "When did I ever claim to be off the dose?" He shook his head. "You really should have listened to your partner." "How could I? I thought he was dead!" "I was talking about Halls." Partridge shot Preston a startled glance. "You never told me Halls was your partner." "He's not my partner!" Preston answered testily. He was sick of explaining this to people. "I would have finished this assignment weeks ago if it hadn't been for Cleric Halls," Richardson continued, impassive. "His perceptions and methods of dealing with spies are very similar to your own, Preston. I imagine that's why you're so uncomfortable around him. It must be a little like looking into a mirror." "I have nothing in common with that man," Preston grated. "Oh, you do, even if you don't want to admit it. Of course, your circumstances were vastly different. After all, you chose to join the Resistance." "Oh, and I suppose the Tetra Grammaton dropkicked Halls straight into the middle of it?" Preston said with biting sarcasm. "More or less," Richardson said with disarming honesty. "He's immune to Prozium, didn't he tell you that?" Preston felt his jaw drop open. Immune? That...surely that wasn't possible? "Oh, he's the only one in the entire history of Libria," Richardson said. "The chance of immunity's something like twenty seven billion to one against. Some genetic quirk, I believe." Preston closed his eyes with an inward groan as the pieces suddenly tumbled into place. Halls hadn't killed his partners because they were sense offenders; he'd done it because he was. As for acting as though he was still on Prozium...well, he'd been doing it for the last twenty five years. It was a tough habit to break. And he'd still been dosing to throw people off the scent. "Of course," he muttered, hardly aware that he was speaking aloud. That explained everything...Halls' saving him in the medical wing, his injecting himself with Prozium in front of people... "Why did you want Sharon to teach you her language?" he said suddenly. Richardson raised his eyebrows. "Is this the point where the hero elicits a full confession from the bad guy just before dying, Preston?" "You might say that," Preston answered shortly. He was damned if he was going to let Richardson think he was afraid of him. "Unlike those stereotyped villains, traitor, I have sense." "Could've fooled me." "I believe I did, Preston, most successfully." Preston groaned inwardly. He'd walked straight into that one. To one side, footsteps crunched on the packed snow. Watching the shadow on the truck, Preston saw Richardson's head snap round and whirled rapidly, sidearms already out. Even before he'd finished moving, Richardson had turned back to him and squeezed off a round. A sudden red-hot pain flashed through Preston's arm, a pain that he barely had time to register before something black flashed through the air, connecting with Richardson's head with an audible crack. The Cleric went white, dropping to his knees, fighting for consciousness with an obvious effort. Preston curled his lip, then took half a step forward and brought his own gun whistling down hard on Richardson's skull, causing the other man to collapse fully. There was a silence. "Who-" Partridge began. "He did go on a bit, didn't he?" Kernachan said, walking past the now prostrate Richardson to retrieve his sidearm. Partridge stared at him, slack-jawed. Although he'd pretty much accepted the fact that the other Cleric was alive back in the mortuary, he hadn't been prepared for a real-life encounter with him. "What's wrong?" Kernachan said innocently. "Did I cut myself shaving or something?" "You are alive," Preston said. "What, didn't you figure that out in the mortuary? Yep. Live and kicking." Kernachan nodded towards Partridge. "What's up with him?" "No idea," Preston said, then, since he wasn't entirely free from malice, added, "He looks like he's just seen a ghost." Yeah, Partridge thought wryly. Now I know how Preston felt. Kernachan raised his eyebrows. "Oh right. So what're you doing out here? Shouldn't you be back in New Libria doing whatever it is you guys do?" Preston and Partridge exchanged looks. "What, you didn't hear?" Partridge said eventually. "No. I actually committed suicide three weeks ago," Kernachan said, face deadpan, "so I'm a little out of touch with current affairs." He nodded towards Richardson's inert form. "Looks like he's been busy." "Did you know?" Preston said suddenly, dark eyes boring accusingly into the younger Cleric. Kernachan, who was about as affected by glares as a polar bear is by a single snowflake, shrugged. "I knew something was up. That guy who tried to murder me let slip that he was working for a Cleric. Kev's not a traitor, for all his other faults, and I didn't believe you were either, so that only left Rossiter and Richardson. And I wouldn't field Rossiter as a double agent. The guy's nice enough, I guess, but he can't keep his tongue still." "We noticed," Preston said in desert tones. "I thought you might have done. Anyway, I decided to lie low for a while." "You should have reported it," Partridge said sharply. "Richardson tried to bloody kill you!" "Yes, I know," Kernachan answered, in over-patient tones. "That's why I thought it was a good idea to get out before he tried again." His eyes clouded over slightly, giving him a slightly haggard look. "Look. If there had been any other way, I would have taken it. Believe me." Oddly enough, Preston did. Kernachan had been known to feel guilty for days about accidentally treading on a spider. "I'll see if I can find a medkit somewhere," Partridge said, glancing around as if he expected one to pop out of the snow. Preston glanced at him. "You're not worried about him, are you?" he said, nodding towards Richardson. "Him?" Partridge said with unusual vehemence. "No. Let the bugger freeze to death and good riddance." "Then why-" "Your arm?" Partridge suggested. Preston blinked, then looked down to see a red furrow some half an inch deep running across his right bicep. Blood was already seeping out, staining his coat. The Cleric frowned slightly. "How the hell did that get there?" "Oh, I don't know," Partridge said dryly. "Maybe the bullet hole in the back of that truck can shed some light on it." Preston glanced at it, startled, then returned his attention to the injury and swore. "Damn! If I'd known this was going to happen, I wouldn't have worn my coat." He examined the ripped fabric ruefully, already uncomfortably aware of the chill wind blowing across the exposed skin. "Can't you get another one?" Kernachan said, possibly innocently. Preston raised an eyebrow. "Where from? Old Libria? Since I smashed their little tin god, Kernachan, and destroyed most of the influence they had, I think if I went to them now and asked if they'd mind giving me a spare coat from stores they'd try and put me down where I stood, and for once I can't honestly say I'd blame them." "What happened to your dress uniform?" Partridge said. Preston grimaced. "I couldn't get the blood out of the collar. Besides, when the Tetra Grammaton arrived in New Libria, they didn't exactly give me time to pack a holdall." There was a silence. "Here." Kernachan dropped the backpack he was wearing on the ground. "There's a medkit in there you can use." Preston looked at him. "Where are you going?" "To get the rest of my stuff. I left it about two and a half miles to the east of here; I wasn't sure who you were and I didn't want to lug it all the way here if you turned out to be hostile." He smirked slightly. "I'll see you two later." Preston and Partridge looked at each other, then Partridge reached down and snapped open the catches, revealing not only a medkit but an assortment of ration packs, fruit and two small bottles of water. "How the hell did he carry all that?" Partridge said incredulously. Preston shook his head. "Who cares? Let's just get it distributed. It's not much, but given what everyone's been eating so far, I don't think they'll be complaining." Partridge raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. "Alright, you've got a point." He pulled out an apple that seemed to be reasonably healthy. "Who do you want to have this...?" A mile and a half away, Halls was in a foul mood. The plan had worked perfectly; he, Jurgen and about twenty other sense offenders had succeeded in escaping from the Tetra Grammaton, largely because most Clerics and sweepers had been strangely absent. The problems came right about now, when Halls was trying-and failing-to get rid of these other offenders. "You're the only one who can get us there," Jurgen said tersely for what was probably the fortieth time, his patience rapidly wearing thin. "No I'm not," Halls retorted. "Get yourself there, Jurgen. I'm not interested." "I can't," Jurgen said tightly. "If I could, do you think I'd mind you going off?" "Yes," Halls shot back. "Because you're so obsessed with collecting Clerics that you never stop to think about them!" "I never forced you into the Resistance," Jurgen pointed out. "Made use of me though, didn't you?" "What did you expect? I'm not running a goddamn hotel here! And you happen to be...oh..." Jurgen snapped his fingers once or twice "...what's the technical term for it...trained?" "Proving nothing; anyone with half a brain could have done what I did." "Oh, so that's why you kept griping about how hard it was," Jurgen shot back, not missing a beat. "And while I'm sorry if our escape is an inconvenience to you, it happened. Deal with it." He paused. "Look, I know things have been tough for you-" "Ohh, don't give me that." Halls closed his eyes. "Please don't give me that. About the only person I ever met who was actually any good at that compassion shit was Mary, and we both know what happened to her." Jurgen narrowed his eyes very slightly. "She made her own choice, Halls." "So what?" Halls glanced around, then gripped Jurgen's upper arms tightly, lowering his voice. "Look. Mary was many things but-unlike these people!-she was never naïve. Those guys seem to think that living in the Nethers is going to be like some big camping holiday. That everybody we meet who's off the dose is automatically a friend. You and I both know that it's not so simple!" "No. But it could be." "Now who's fooling himself?" Jurgen met his gaze squarely. "They're on a high. Nobody has ever escaped from the Tetra Grammaton before. They're not as useless as they look." "I didn't think they could be," Halls sniped. "Look, Jurgen, you and me-oh, alright, and the sprog as well," he added uncharitably, seeing Jurgen's gaze shift to Lisa, "we might stand a chance. If you want me to drag twenty people behind me, that's going to a) slow us down and b) attract more attention than an opera singer!" "Maybe so, but I'm not leaving them." "Then don't," Halls said with a shrug. "It's no longer any of my concern what you do. You can go ask Hagon on a date for all I care. If all of us go, we'll be dead before sunrise." "You quoted an EC-10 remark to me once," Jurgen remarked, apparently to the sky. "What was it? Death before dishonour?" Halls grimaced. "I meant alphabetically!" Next to him, Lisa stretched. "I'm bored. When are we going?" Halls spun around so fast that in spite of herself, she took half a step back. "You still don't get it, do you, kid?" the Cleric said icily. "I'm not going back. You go wherever the fuck you like, but I'm heading out." "Jurgen-" "Jurgen and Preston are more than capable of running New Libria without me," Halls cut across sharply. "My part in all of this is over. There's nothing there for me now." "You can't just abandon them. People out there are counting on you." "Counting on me? Counting on me to do what?" Halls shook his head. "News bulletin: I'm not the most popular of people." "No surprises there, if this is your usual attitude," Lisa returned pertly. "My attitude is none of your fucking business, kid." "Why do you swear so much?" Lisa asked, studying him curiously. Halls floundered slightly. He'd had people attempt to talk to him, or mostly just storm off when they couldn't stand him anymore. With the exception of Kernachan and Jurgen, he wasn't used to people just shrugging off his attitude like water off a duck's back. "You can't leave," Jurgen said quietly. "Hah! Watch me!" "I need you. New Libria needs you." "It needs a Cleric, Jurgen." "Well, you are a Cleric," Lisa said in a satisfied tone. "So everybody's happy." "She does have a point," Jurgen said wryly, a slight gleam in his eyes. He shrugged, then wished he hadn't. "Ow! Shit, that hurts." "That's the idea," Halls retorted unsympathetically. "You want to play soldiers with the Tetra Grammaton, that's your business. I'm sick of this war and I want no further part of it." He spun on his heel and started walking away. "I know what happened to you," Jurgen said clearly. Halls froze motionless for a heartbeat, then he said curtly, "No you don't," and continued walking. "I saw your scars, Halls." "Lots of people have scars." "Not like those. I was covering the security cameras that time when you were with Mary," Jurgen added, raising his voice as the Cleric got further away. "They don't transmit sound." "No, but you don't have to be a genius to work it out. You're just lucky it was me on duty; anyone else would probably have splashed it all over the Underground in a matter of seconds." Halls stopped, whirled. "What are you saying, Jurgen? That if I don't play nicely you'll tell tales on me?" "Preston's going to know it was you who helped us out," Jurgen said, refusing to be intimidated. "Nobody else could have done it. Nobody else has so much experience of Cleric-Cleric battles." "And that's supposed to make me feel better, is it?" Halls said coldly, although his hackles were already lowering slightly. "It's not supposed to make you feel anything," Jurgen answered. "It's a statement of fact. Look. There are people from the Tetra Grammaton, and probably in the Nethers as well, who want us dead. I can't exactly do much in my condition, and the rest of us aren't much better. Get us to Preston. Then you can leave whenever you like." "How?" Halls demanded, rounding on him angrily. "I'm not exactly in the best shape myself, Jurgen, or hadn't you noticed that little fact?" "You're a Cleric and wearing a Cleric's uniform. That should discourage any attack." "Great," Halls said. "Any pissed off people look at us, they're going to see a Cleric on crutches leading a group of people who happen to be half dead." "I'm not," Lisa pointed out. Halls turned such a chilling look on her that for once, she fell silent. "Oh, my deepest apologies! Yes, I was forgetting. So. Any pissed off people look at us, they're not going to see a Cleric on crutches leading a group of people who happen to be half dead. They're going to see a Cleric on crutches leading a group of people who happen to be half dead with the exception of a bratty nine year old kid! Yeah, that'll strike fear into their hearts alright." "You might as well leave him alone," Jurgen said to Lisa in an undertone. "I know him. He'll be no use to anyone until he's burnt it all out of his system." "I heard that!" Halls said sharply. "Halls, as you pointed out so adroitly to Preston, it's a free country and if we all happen to walk in the same direction as you, at the same speed and time, how are you going to stop us?" Halls snapped a sidearm out. "How do you think?" There was a deathly silence. "That's not going to solve anything," Jurgen said quietly. "You know that as well as I do." "Well, I've heard it," Halls said, "but so far I've not had the opportunity to see for myself." "And this isn't it," Jurgen told him. He shook his head. "Still...if you're so convinced, Halls, go ahead and pull that trigger." Halls raised the gun until it was level with Jurgen's forehead. The other man didn't move, didn't blink. He and Halls had had their differences in the past, but it had only once gone this far before. Jurgen prided himself on knowing the strengths and weaknesses of all his people. His instinct was telling him that-unlike the first time this had happened-Halls really didn't want to shoot him, and Jurgen trusted his instinct. But as Preston had once remarked to him, just because someone doesn't want to shoot you doesn't automatically mean they're not going to. "Why are you doing this?" Halls said suddenly. "Because if you leave us here, the Tetra Grammaton will be down on us sooner or later," Jurgen answered steadily. "Between you and them, I'd rather go out quick." He paused, then took a calculated risk. "I think you owe me that much, at least." Halls snapped the safety off. Still Jurgen didn't move. He was probably the only person in either Old or New Libria who could honestly say that he trusted Halls implicitly, and he knew for a fact that he was also the only person who Halls trusted himself. The atmosphere loosened suddenly. Jurgen knew without question that he was safe, that Halls wasn't going to fire, and relaxed. Halls clicked the safety back on and reholstered the gun. "We get to Preston," he muttered, not looking at Jurgen, "and then I'm outta here." "Alright," Jurgen said tiredly. "Fine. Whatever you say. Just-" He broke off as what looked like a large, black and tan comet with a furry tail exploded into the group, almost flattening Halls in the enthusiasm of its greeting. The Cleric raised an eyebrow. "Where'd you come from?" He reached down to rub Klondike, an action made harder by the fact that the animal was bouncing and prancing around him like an eight-week old puppy on springs, his tail wagging furiously, clearly unable to believe the change in his canine luck. Klondike paused to sniff the Cleric's bandaged leg experimentally. The sharp stench of ethadine and blood stung his nose, and he sneezed vigorously. What on earth had the human gone and done to himself now? "I'm alright, boy," Halls told him, ruffling the fur between the dog's ears. "It's okay." Was it? Oh, well, if he said so. "Where's Preston?" Jurgen said suddenly. Klondike glanced at him disbelievingly. Why would anyone in his right mind want to go to Preston?? The human had been really pissed off lately, even going so far as to forget to feed Animal...although Klondike supposed Animal couldn't really blame Preston, since as far as he'd been able to make out, the human hadn't been feeding himself much either. "Preston?" Jurgen repeated. "Great," Halls heard someone mutter. "We're stuck in the middle of nowhere, freezing our balls off, and our illustrious leader is asking a stupid dog for help!" Klondike shot the human a look, then turned his back on the entire assembly and sat down, snout in the air. Well, if they were going to get personal about it... "That 'stupid dog' is the only one who might know where Preston and the others are," Jurgen said frostily, "since it was Preston who was looking after him when Halls was away." Halls couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You let Preston look after my dog?!" "No; your dog attached himself firmly to Preston on their return and refused point blank to leave him," Jurgen answered. "Ingrate," Halls told Klondike, who yawned hugely, clearly unperturbed. "Why'd you have to attach yourself to Preston, of all people? There's nothing particularly special about him." "You think not?" Jurgen said, straight-faced. "Fine. You overthrow the next government." Halls glanced up sharply, then, to Jurgen's private astonishment, managed a grin. "I still think you're bloody mad," he said. "Then you'd better humour me, hadn't you?" Jurgen answered, a half hidden glint in his eyes. He shook his head. "I'm not given to doing stupid things, Halls." "What about the rubber glove incident?" Jurgen visibly winced, then managed to rearrange his features with an obvious effort. "I...don't know what you're talking about," he lied, not very convincingly. "Oh really?" Halls affected surprise. "Well, the psychologists say it's very unhealthy to repress, so allow me to help you out. After reading this book, you-" "Yes, yes, yes, alright, I think I remember it now!" Jurgen said testily, then lowered his voice. "How many times do I have to tell you not to spread that story around!?" Halls raised his eyebrows. "I've no idea, but don't stop now, Jurgen. I imagine you're getting near the record." He shook his head. "You shouldn't take it so hard. Everyone makes mistakes, you know...some big...some small..." He shot a quick look at Jurgen out the corner of his eye. "Some astronomical..." Jurgen grimaced. "See, this is why I don't want you talking about it. The truth usually gets stretched out of all proportions with you!" Halls raised his eyebrows. "Not the only thing either, if memory serves." "Halls!!!" The Cleric smirked. "Relax, Jurgen. I'll keep your little secret all the time you keep mine...not that I have one," he added easily, if somewhat contradictorily, then shrugged. "C'mon then, if you're coming. Preston's this way." "How do you know?" "Partly because that's the direction Klondike came from and logic dictates that a straight line is the most direct way to your target," Halls said lightly, "and partly because I ran a trace on Preston's sidearms while you were playing in the Palace of Justice." The ringing silence that followed these last words was like a thunderclap. "Playing?" Jurgen said very softly, an odd tone to his voice that Halls had never heard before. "Is that what you call it, Halls?" "I call it a damned inconvenience," Halls retorted, although judging from the slow red creeping over the Cleric's face, it was obvious that even he knew he'd overstepped the mark. "Really." Jurgen's tone still had that odd quality to it, a quality that Halls seriously didn't like. He hesitated, then shook his head. "No. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight." Jurgen didn't respond. There was a new coolness in his gaze as he looked at the Cleric. Halls sighed. "Look, I'm sorry and I take it back. Happy now? Only you're one of the few people who don't seem to begrudge me the air I breathe and I'd quite like to keep it that way. Are we going or not?" Jurgen hesitated, then apparently seemed to decide that he wasn't going to get a better response from the Cleric and so settled for saying, "Yes. We're going." He glanced back at the others. "You lot stay here. We don't know who's down there and I don't see the point in losing any more of us than we have to." He nodded towards a man who looked to be in better shape than the others. "Siegel, you're in charge until we get back." He looked back at Halls and sighed. "Alright. Let's go. And I hope you're right about this, for all our sakes." Limping slightly, both he and Halls started down the alley. The trip only lasted twenty minutes, but in his current state, it seemed to be almost the longest twenty minutes of Jurgen's life, and he was quite relieved when Halls came to an abrupt stop. "What is it?" Jurgen said very quietly. Halls glanced ahead. The darkness was pressing in, but to his photosensitive vision, the person up ahead might as well have been standing in a spotlight. "Preston." Relief shot through Jurgen and he moved closer, until he was able to make out the figure of Preston, stripped to the waist. For a few minutes, Jurgen wondered if the Cleric had taken leave of his senses; going around half naked wasn't a good idea in these temperatures. "I think there's a lot of female sense offenders who'd beg to differ on that score," Halls said, smirking. "Particularly when it's Preston we're talking about." Jurgen grimaced slightly. That was true enough; most females from the age of about eighteen upwards were trying to watch Preston surreptitiously out of the corners of their eyes. "Go on then," Halls said, nudging Jurgen in the ribs. "Say something to him." Jurgen shot the Cleric a glare, then stepped forward into the dim light. "Preston." It was said so evenly that the Cleric wasn't sure if it was a query, a greeting, a condemnation or merely a statement of fact. Startled, Preston turned. "Will you keep still!" Partridge said through clenched teeth, giving Jurgen the impression that he'd been making the same point over and over for some time now. "What the hell happened to you?" Jurgen said. "I was about to ask you the same thing," Preston answered, wincing as Partridge sponged ethadine into the groove in his arm. "It was Richardson," he added. "What!?" Jurgen stared, for once speechless. Next to him, Halls smirked. "Well, Preston, I hate to say I told you so-" "No you don't," Preston muttered sourly. "-but if you'll recollect, I did tell you so." "How did you find us, anyway?" Partridge said. "I ran a trace on Preston's sidearms back in the Tetra Grammaton. Given the amount of times he's fired them off since leaving New Libria, it wasn't too hard to follow your trail." Halls raised a mocking eyebrow in Preston's direction. "Anyone ever suggest you're a little trigger-happy sometimes?" "Is it true?" Preston said, eyeing him narrowly. "Is what true?" "What Richardson said about you." "What did Richardson say about me?" "You know," Preston said sharply, clearly not about to let a little thing like logic get in the way of his wanting an answer. Halls raised the other eyebrow. "I imagine he said a hell of a lot of things about me, Preston. Which one were you referring to?" "Are you really immune to Prozium?" "Oh, that. Yes. I thought you knew." Preston rolled his eyes. "How the hell do you expect me to know something like that? I've never heard of such a thing!" Halls snorted. "Oh, please. People in New Libria don't sneeze without you or Jurgen finding out if there's an epidemic going around." There was a surprised silence. "What are you saying, exactly?" Preston said finally. "We don't respect people's privacy?" "Uh, let me see..." Halls pretended to think about it for all of half a second, then glanced back up at him. "Yeah." "So where's Richardson now?" Jurgen interspersed diplomatically as Preston narrowed his eyes very slightly. "Down there." Preston indicated the alley with a wave of his spare hand. "No he's not," Halls said unexpectedly. Preston stared. "What?" "We just came from there," Halls told him. "There's a fair amount of blood, but there's no one down there at all." Preston and Partridge exchanged looks, then Preston opened his mouth. "JAY!" There was a rustling sound and Jay appeared in Preston's line of vision, hanging upside down from a long defunct lamppost. It happened so quickly that the Cleric was sure she'd been eavesdropping. Jay stretched out leisurely, no mean feat when your legs are wrapped securely around a metal pole. "You screamed?" "Yes, I did," Preston said in tones of tight control. "Some lookout you are." Jay paused mid-stretch to look at him, one eyebrow cocked. "What? You said to watch for any enemies approaching. You didn't say anything about friends." "And you couldn't watch to see Richardson leaving?" Preston said sarcastically. "Was I supposed to?" Jay shrugged. "Last time I beat Richardson, you said he was on our side and I was to leave him alone." "She beat Richardson?" Jurgen said, incredulity soaking every word. "Yes, and Rossiter," Preston said in an aside, "but that's not important now. What matters is-" "Who are you?" Jurgen said, looking at Jay with interest. "Name's Jay. Well, not really, but it's the closest I can get in Librian." "She's from outside Libria on the run from some kind of despotic tyrant," Preston said flatly, in the tone of one who doesn't have a whole lot of time to waste on explanations. Jurgen's eyebrows shot up. "Whereabouts outside Libria?" "Xylyx. Look, did you see-" "That barbaric cesspit?" "That...yes. Did you-" Ignoring Preston for the minute, Jurgen continued looking at Jay. There was a slight gleam in his eyes that Preston recognised as only ever appearing when he got his most complicated or suicidal ideas. Usually the only difference between them was the name. "And...you still have problems?" Jay snorted. Calling what went on in Gehenna 'problems' was a little like calling an atom bomb a sparkler. "You might say that. Look, are you going to talk to me for much longer? Because if you are, I'm coming down. This is making my head hurt." "Not as much as mine," Preston muttered under his breath. "Where are you going?" he added, as Jay slid down the lamppost, flipping over to land neatly on her feet. "To find some food, Cleric." Partridge blinked. "I thought you had some. What happened to those rations?" Jay snorted again. "Thanks, Cleric, but if that's what you call food, I think I'll stick to the spiders." Jurgen glanced at the ration packs next to Preston and felt his stomach, already shrunken from his incarceration, shrivel unpleasantly. "You and me both," Jay told him, smirking slightly. Jurgen stared. "How-" "I shouldn't worry about it," Jay said, clapping him on the shoulder in a friendly fashion and causing Jurgen to wince almost imperceptibly as she made contact with an electrical burn. "You'll get used to it. Your buddy Preston did." Raising her voice, she spoke to someone over Jurgen's shoulder. "Hey you pig, save some of those for me!" Jurgen glanced at Preston. "At least tell me you salvaged some of the EC-10." "Yes. We did." "You'll be lucky if you want a book to read though," Jay said on her way past, around a mouthful of...something; Preston didn't know what and didn't particularly plan on finding out either. "These guys burnt most of 'em." "What?" Jurgen said, staring at Preston. "It was that or freeze to death!" the Cleric said, somewhat testily. He was getting a little tired of repeating this to people. "They burned two boxes' worth," Al said. "We saved one page of American Psycho thanks to Rossiter, but that's all." "Which page?" Halls said with interest. "Three one six," Preston said, startled. "Why?" The shadow of a grin flickered over the younger Cleric's face. "Oh well, at least he kept the best part." "The..." Words momentarily failed Preston, which was probably just as well. "That's sick, that book is," Partridge said, with feeling. "I didn't know you could even do that with a bloody rat!" "Or a severed head," muttered Preston, who'd had time to skim the contents of the book in question. "The world is really opening itself up to you, isn't it, Preston?" Halls drawled. "First music, then dogs, then sex, and now this." "Halls, I have never-" Preston began, then broke off abruptly as he contemplated the rest of the sentence. "Yes?" Halls said politely, a tone that was unfortunately belied by the smirk on his face. "Do go on; I'm sure we're all fascinated here." "D'you think we could be spared Preston vs. Halls Round 187, please?" Jurgen said testily. Halls spread his free hand to the side innocently. "What did I say? I merely made a completely innocuous comment based on Preston's evaluation of that particular work of EC-10." "No you didn't, and you know it." The smirk on Halls' face widened, became a grin. "Oh god, Jurgen, where's your sense of humour?" Preston looked at Partridge. "Tell me again. Why did we want him to come back?" "Perhaps because without Halls, none of us would be here," Jurgen said pointedly. Halls flapped a hand dismissively. "Please, stop. You're making me blush." "If I am, then it's probably the first time in your history since that girl Alana asked if you were a virgin," Jurgen answered, not missing a beat. Halls raised his eyebrows. "If we're going to have story time here, Jurgen, might I point out that I know a few good ones myself?" he drawled. There was a silence, Preston looking at Halls with considerably more interest. "Understood," Jurgen said finally, although with possibly a touch of humour. "Did you get anyone else out?" Preston said. "We-ell..." Halls let the sentence trail off with the sole intention of making the other Cleric writhe, then caught sight of the half sick, half hopeful look on Preston's face and decided even he wasn't that much of a bastard. "Yeah, we did." Preston's pulse quickened very slightly. "Did you..." He hesitated. "Uh...did you...is..." "Lisa's with us, if that's what you're working around to asking," Jurgen said calmly. Preston, who had actually been thinking of Kia, coloured slightly. Halls, picking up on some of Preston's stronger thought processes, raised an eyebrow. "Or were you wondering about someone else, Preston?" "Well, I...uh..." "Um. John?" Preston snapped his head around so fast it was a miracle he didn't give himself whiplash. "I thought you were supposed to be waiting with the others," Jurgen said sharply. "I got worried," The look that appeared in Halls' eyes bordered on the rapturous as he looked from one to the other. "Oh, so that's the way of it, huh?" "Lay off him, Halls," Partridge said flatly, and too quietly for Preston to hear. "Didn't you ever fall in love?" "Not with her sort, no. Redheads don't do a great deal for me." Preston barely heard them. He was dimly aware of his legs pushing him to his feet, and of turning to face Kia. The chances against their meeting again had been literally millions-to-one. Then again, with his only family just happening to be sense offenders like him, his taking down Father and all his lackeys, his teaming up with the only person who had ever been immune to Prozium, his dead partner coming back to life and now this, even Preston had to admit that he had a tendency to hit the long shots. "We need to find something to eat," Jurgen said. "Jurgen-" Partridge began. "And maybe a place to sleep." "Jurgen-" Partridge tried again. "And something to-" "Jurgen," Halls said clearly, "shut up!" Jurgen shot the young Cleric a stare, then caught sight of Preston, who was still staring wordlessly at Kia. For a few minutes Preston and Kia just stared wordlessly, then, as if on an unspoken command, they were suddenly wrapped in each other's arms and kissing hard. "About bloody time," Partridge muttered. Chapter 20 >>> more Equilibrium Fan Fiction