He was looking at Ellery with a kind of lit-up fondness.
Ell was touching my arm now, and his words filtered through to me finally. "Peter. Pete. Let's go home. Come on, you're all right. Come on, sweetheart." He radiated concern for me, acting so strange out on the street. He tugged at my arm, insistent but gentle.
"He's very loyal," said the gray-eyed man. "I admire that in a man."
"Get your own boyfriend!" I snapped.
He drew back from me, one eye twitching for an instant. It looked as though I'd hit a nerve — although of course I couldn't tell if I actually had or not. He raised his brows extravagantly. "I'm not gay," he said, a firm, slightly haughty statement. He sounded very sure of himself.
I made a wordless sound and tried to put myself more firmly between him and my Ellery. I was ready to fight the man with my bare hands, claw his eyes out to keep him from trying to steal Ellery. From trying to take him over with his creepy mind control.
"I wouldn't." His brows drew together, as if he was hurt by the idea I'd had of him as some kind of mega-villain controlling people's actions. But really, if he could keep them from even seeing him . . .
"That's different. It's like a magic trick," he explained impatiently. "I can't force someone to do something they don't want to do any more than you can hypnotize someone to do something they don't want to do."
"But they can't see you."
I was growing distracted from my fear and rage; I really did want to understand, despite myself. It wasn't usual for me to have someone I didn't understand and was afraid of. One or the other, maybe, but usually not either one for long. I was too skilled an empath, and too nosy a person, to go long without ferreting out information and impressions and knowledge. And I was too stubborn to be afraid of anyone for long, even if they could (and would, and did) pound my face in.
He waved it away. "They don't notice me," he explained. "They can see me, they just don't notice me. It's all in the head."
"Ellery, look at him," I demanded, clutching at my boyfriend.
He and Fred were trying to talk to me, cajoling me as if I were a crazy person. Their attention was all on me. I tried to steer Ell's gaze to look at what must seem like the space beside me. But even though he should've been curious about what I was looking at, talking to, and perhaps trying to figure out — running a hand through the empty air, as would be the first instinct of most people — he and Fred were both totally focused on me, on my actions, and not on what might be causing them.
"Ellery, look," I commanded, taking his face in my hands, trying to show him. But he just looked at me, searching my gaze, his soulful eyes worried and intent. He did look at me like that a lot anyway, to be fair — like I was the most important person in his world, the one most worth paying attention to. That was usually a flattering feeling.
He reached up and touched my cheek softly. "Let's go home, Peter," he said, very gently indeed.
I had a quick glimpse of mirth from Gray Eyes — the first hint of emotion he'd given me during this meeting. I whirled to look at him again, but he'd released me and was striding away. He gave me a two-fingered salute, like a sailor. He made long strides and was leaving quickly.
"Take care of him," said the empath.
I tried to start after him, but Fred and Ellery held me back between them. Well, mostly Fred. I was a little stronger than Ellery, but Fred was probably stronger than both of us put together. At any rate, they had a firm grip on me now and were being insistent. I soon gave up struggling. It was useless and humiliating to try to get free from someone when you had no hope of doing so. It only made people laugh.
"You didn't see him at all?" I turned to them, demanding an answer. My feathers were ruffled and my heart was beating extra hard.
"See who?" asked Ellery, glancing around now, and I knew we were far away enough that Gray Eyes' spell of control was broken.
Good riddance to bad rubbish.
#
I went over the whole thing so many times I was completely sick of it. Ellery was unnerved and sympathetic. He held me while I told him, to make it easier for me. He supported me and believed me, and was shocked by the fact that he simply hadn't noticed the man — and hadn't questioned the empty air I'd been talking to with such distress.
"It didn't even register," he said. "I knew there was nothing there, so I thought you must be having some kind of symptoms." He shook his head in disbelief. "It sounds so strange now that I couldn't notice, that I was so sure. But I guess I felt like I really had already checked, or something. I really didn't see him."
The security staff was less quick to believe me. I had to tell them the story multiple times, too. And they took notes.
Kevin was the one who really surprised me, though. He not only made me tell the story over and over again, pressing me for details and cross-questioning me, trying to squeeze every drop out of my memory, past the emotion of the moment and before I forgot, but he was genuinely distressed and upset.
I knew Ellery and I were important to him, but the sense of loss he felt at the idea of someone stealing one of us away — the intense feelings it gave him were nearly unbearable. I began to grow uncomfortable and had to take a break. I left him pacing his main office, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm down. But he was deeply distressed.
He got himself more under control after a bit, but he couldn't hide his true feelings from me. They roiled under his calmer, more professional exterior. He could smooth his hair, he could smooth his features, but he couldn't smooth his heart. He was agonizingly worried, and superstitiously afraid something dreadful was going to happen. It had been too good to be true; there was no way to keep the two of us working for the company, or to keep my friendship . . .
I did what I could to reassure him, but it wasn't enough.
However, the next time I went to take a walk, he stopped me firmly. "No," he said, looking me in the eyes with a desperate insistence. "Don't leave the building till we're sure we can protect you better."
I was incensed and made sure he knew it. "Really? You're going there? Last I heard, I'm still a free person, not a slave. Just an employee." I made as if to leave again, and he stopped me this time by catching hold of my arm.
I wanted to give him what for, but I saw the agony in his eyes. I felt it in his heart, too, slipping out more than ever. I stared at him.
"Please, Pete," he said quietly. "I couldn't stand it if something happened to you, after everything. We've tried hard to keep you safe and free, but it's not safe right now. This isn't forever. We'll figure it out . . ."
I gave in that day.
The ESRB had ideas about the whole thing as well, and my ex in particular was fascinated.
They began looking in earnest for this powerful empath. I thought it was ironic. He wasn't going to be found unless he wanted to be — unless they had someone even more powerful who'd be immune to his powers.
So there was lots of worry from Kev, lots of questions from security and the ESRB, and lots of my own private worries that I tried very hard to keep hidden. Ellery knew, though, or at least guessed some of it. He was worried about me. Not about danger, or the powerful empath, or even about losing me. He saw how I was reacting to things, and, even though I thought I was keeping my stress, frustration, worry, and anger to myself, he knew.
It was strange being read by someone else. Despite my ease with my own official abilities, for the first time I began to understand how someone else might feel when I could tell how they felt in a situation where they wished I couldn't. In the past, few people (if any) had known me well enough to guess how I was feeling if I didn't really work hard to clue them in.
I thought of some of my boyfriends in the past, who had been pretty willfully ignorant about anything and everything I was feeling. It had to be about them (or sex) all the time, or they weren't interested. I guessed I'd been used to that. I'd never expected anyone to know or care how I felt. Perhaps because I'd been aware, all my life, that m
ost people didn't and never would.
But Ellery cared, and he could, in some way or another, see through me to how upset I really was. Still, he didn't force me to talk about it. He didn't even ask me to. But he watched me, and he felt concern and love. I could read it so strongly off him sometimes, it really startled me. He put more time and effort into what I began to think of as caretaking activities. More time being near me, making sure I'd eaten, getting me coffee, snuggling on the couch and watching a movie. He tried to make sure I rested enough, ate enough, stayed active. He seemed really worried I might fall into depression if I wasn't very careful, and he had the right end of the stick there.
I was starting to feel trapped, and sad for no reason, and bad things weighed more heavily on my mind, sad thoughts lasting longer and dragging me further down than normal. I tended to be cynical but fairly upbeat most of the time. When I got depressed — as I'd done after my car accident, and while working for the police — I got really, really depressed.
His caretaking activities and worries weren't exactly welcome, but they did help. He reminded me to look after myself physically while I was struggling emotionally, and above all, he didn't let me be alone too much. The less time I spent locked in my own thoughts, the less sad I was. I hated being that predictable, and I wondered sometimes how he was reading me, since he had no empathic talent of his own. This must be what it was like to have a good relationship. You got to know one another well enough, even without empath skills, that you could tell when something was wrong with the other person in the relationship. It seemed sad and ironic that I hadn't known that until now.
I'd never expected much from my boyfriends in the past, my relationships of any sort. Even kindness and compassion had felt like a lot to ask, when I could tell how impatient and selfish and bored people were inside, even when they pretended to care. But not everyone was like that; I was learning that. People did care about me now, even if there weren't many of them. Ironic that it felt like another kind of confinement to me at times. Now I had even more ways to fail.
I was, however, ashamed that I'd done such a poor job of boyfriend-finding that even my very low expectations had often been dashed. There was the boyfriend who had broken up with me on the way to the bar and proceeded to go after the hottest youngest guy in the room while I was still reeling. There was the "boyfriend" who'd made me hide in a closet when his unbeknownst-to-me actual boyfriend returned unexpectedly. The guy who'd wanted me to dress up in special outfits, and could be pretty damn demanding, yet didn't believe I'd ever be good enough to meet his family. Somehow these acts of jerkiness had managed to keep surprising me, even though I'd thought I was world-weary about the whole 'good boyfriend' thing. I'd never actually achieved that confident indifference or ability to shrug it off.
Why had I ended up with so many jerks, especially when I should be better than average at finding people to trust and care about? Had I been too eager? Too quick to settle? Too worried I'd never find the right guy for me? I felt ashamed whenever I thought about it too much. The past was the past; it needed to stay there. Forcibly if necessary.
When Ellery put his hand on my thigh, a gentle reminder that he was there and supporting me, it sometimes meant a hint for sex, but just as often meant he was simply enjoying being with me and the fact that he could touch me without me minding. He liked me; he reveled in being near me and with me. It was nice to feel, if still a little overwhelming sometimes.
He'd given me everything, as far as I could tell. If he harbored worries about the future when I went missing or left him for a time, he still trusted in our forever. He believed in our happiness; he believed in and loved me. He had no real reservations on the subject. This, finally, was how his life was meant to be: spent with me. He'd finally reached a large part of his happy ending. He was safe, had a job he was good at, and most importantly to him, he had me, the man he was destined to be with for the rest of his life, more or less.
On one level his contentment made me feel more content, as well. It's hard not to be affected by any emotion you're around a lot, and this was at least a very positive, happy emotion — contentment. Most people aren't very content, so it was novel as well as pleasant, and of course it was flattering to be a big part of the reason for Ell's contentment and happiness.
But I had no such inner assurance that my life was now right and that I'd reached a happily-ever-after. I still had doubts, sometimes waking up in the middle of the night in a sweaty panic. If I was lucky, it didn't wake Ellery. I hated lying to him about things, but there was no way I meant to tell him I was frightened about our relationship, and terrified about how much of myself I'd already given to him. About how devastated I'd be if things didn't work out.
He wouldn't understand; he'd probably take it personally. After all, he'd told me we were meant to be together, and I believed his gifts about other things. I couldn't, on some level, believe him about this. Or if I believed it intellectually, which I always wanted to and sometimes did, then I couldn't believe it in my emotions, which had learned the hard way that any time I let down my guard and really loved someone, life would give me a punch in the face and laugh at my gullibility.
I didn't want that now; I really, really didn't want that now. Losing Ellery — when I was starting to find him essential, even as much as that terrified me — was a pain I could barely contemplate, yet my stupid brain insisted I think about it or spent so much effect and energy pushing it aside from conscious thought that it tormented me in my subconscious — dreams and general twitchiness.
We still got regular counseling, both together (relationship-wise) and separately (job-related and for mental health). I was pretty bored with the whole baring-your-soul shtick, but I stuck it out for Ellery and Kevin.
Overall, we got through the days when the investigation, search, and security were at their highest. I was starting to think it was all a bit silly, to be honest. Yes, it had seemed like a big deal at the time — meeting a powerful empath who might or might not have had designs on my boyfriend, and who could make people not see him — but familiarity breeds contempt, and it was starting to seem pretty stupid, the way we were all up in arms.
Eventually Kev relented and said I could go out as long as I took two guards this time and was armed (with my very own pepper spray).
Kev suggested, trying to word it carefully, that perhaps Ellery should stay behind — a suggestion that Ell seized on with a certain amount of relief. He was very glad to stay in the protection of the building and the company. Sometimes it seemed to me that Ell didn't have the same drive for independence that I did. Even I only had it sometimes, but Ell? Ell seemed glad to be cared for and protected. He trusted Kev and Erin to know when and where he should travel, how often he needed vacations, and whether it was safe to do this or that.
For a man who read the future (sometimes), it seemed odd to me that he could give up so much control over his own life to others. But maybe the truth was that he hadn't had much control over his own life for some time, if ever, and he felt safer knowing he was at least working with benevolent people who wanted him safe and happy so he could keep working for them. Probably even poor conditions would've seemed like a big step up compared to being locked up for a supposed mental illness.
Not that they did treat us badly; not at all. There was stress involved with his job, but they also paid well, protected him better than average, and tried to meet (and even anticipate) his every need. I suspect if anyone had known I was his future boyfriend, they'd have hired me just for that.
For my sake, I was glad that wasn't the case. I liked working here, but it would've killed something in me if I had just been here because he needed me. I needed to be my own man too, even if I did let people make many of my decisions for me now.
I was so fed up with feeling like a pampered prisoner or pet that I went out on the first day I was finally allowed to. I didn't feel like going out, to be honest. I was too tired from the last couple of days, and there was nothing
I wanted to see outside on this overcast, gray, drizzly day. But, damn it, I was going outside and that was that!
I was going for a walk. Leash not visible but there all the same.
In this foul mood, I stomped through the city and into the drizzling, damp park. I didn't enjoy much of that walk, and from the feelings my two bodyguards were projecting, they weren't having the time of their lives either. But I went, and nothing happened.
Ell and Kev were super relieved when I got back, so I knew they'd worried for me. But it was fine. And it was fine again the next day, and the day after that. By the time I'd been taking regular walks (fortunately most of them in better weather than that first day) for a week or so, they'd gotten over a lot of their fear. I think they'd decided that Ellery had been the deciding factor for that empath's approach. Or perhaps that he'd moved on to somewhere safer, since lots of people were looking for him.
At any rate, I was clearly fairly safe although no one was ready to lower the precautions, such as they were. Some of these precautions included more security in the building so nobody could sneak past without being noticed — lots of security cameras and fancy systems upgraded to help with this. I don't even want to know what it might've cost, although Kev said they'd been due for some upgrades anyway.
"You never know when thieves will find a new way to get around the system," he told me. "And there's valuable information in this building that could be sold for massive amounts of money to the right buyer."
"Not, like, chemical weapons or something?" I'd stared at him, growing concerned.
"Ha. No, only medical research. But that's pretty valuable, you know." He'd clapped me on the shoulder, a gesture I always found comforting. I wondered if he'd guessed. He did seem to do it more when I was feeling stressed or nervous.
I also put in more time in the gym to fight back the depression I was starting to fall into. It seemed to help. I'd always had a lot of restless energy, and it did me good to find uses for it.
SURE (Men of the ESRB Book 3) Page 10
