by Anthology
Even as Balidor thought it, the other man turned on his heel. He began stalking angrily back towards the tank’s two foot thick door.
“Now, Balidor,” he said without looking back.
Exhaling in a sigh, Balidor pulled himself ungracefully to his feet.
He fought with whether to look at Cass before he left, to say anything to her.
In the end he only followed Jon out of the cell.
He felt the silence behind him as he left.
3
That’s a Black Hole, Man
“The fucking cameras were off,” Jon snapped, his hands on his hips. “Why were the cameras off, Balidor? That goes against every single goddamned protocol that you yourself put in place...”
Balidor sighed from where he sat in a bolted chair.
They were in a conference room, on the same segment of the deck as the Barrier-containment cell that housed Cass. Technically, it was a segment of the storage bay of the aircraft carrier, but they’d carved it up and erected partitions for their own needs. Balidor had made the decision to put the high-security prisoners down here, if only to restrict access.
He now sat at an oval table they’d mostly used for interrogations.
“Jon...” he began.
“She’s fucking dangerous, ‘Dor! Do you really not get that?” Jon let out a disbelieving sound, something between a snort and a grunt. “If I told Revik what I caught you doing in there, he’d have a fucking coronary. You know that, right? He’d flip the fuck out...”
“Jon,” Balidor said, sharper. “Calm down.”
“What are you doing with her?” Jon said.
Jon looked him straight in the face that time, his hazel eyes holding enough that Balidor hesitated, gauging what he could see and feel there.
He knew feelings around Cass ran strong...especially with the people who’d known her the longest. Jon. Allie. Revik. The three of them wouldn’t be able to be rational about this. As Allie’s adoptive brother, Jon grew up with her too. She’d been family to him. She’d been family to all of them before she got recruited by Shadow and turned on them.
They’d all had ringside seats to Cass’s betrayal...and its aftermath.
Balidor knew it was still raw. Maybe it always would be.
He also knew they’d loved her.
All of them had loved her––Revik, too.
“You know what I’m doing,” Balidor said.
Jon stared at him. His eyes held disbelief, mixed with an anger that was now on the surface. Balidor saw something else there, too.
Something that might have been...
“It’s not hope,” Jon said, his voice close to a threat. “Don’t you dare try to pull on those fucking strings with me, Balidor. You know what she did to Allie. You know what she did to Revik...hell, to me! To you, for fuck’s sake...”
“Yes, Jon,” Balidor said, his voice equally warning. “I do know.”
“Then what the fuck are you doing?” Jon said again.
Balidor felt his caution slide away, turning into something a lot closer to anger.
“What am I doing?” Rising to his feet, he leaned his palms on the table, staring at Jon directly. “Why didn’t you ask Allie that question when it was Revik in there?” he said, that anger leaking into his voice. “When it was Revik shackled to that wall? Is it only mass murderers that are owed your empathy, Jon? Or are you going to tell me that the crimes committed by Cass over the past two years are so much worse than those committed by your sister’s husband over the past one hundred that she deserves nothing from any of us?”
Jon clicked at him, folding his arms over his chest.
The armored shirt made him look bigger, but even so, Balidor realized the other man had grown more muscular again. Jon must be working out with the ex-rebel seers these days. His chest looked twice the size Balidor remembered from when he’d first met the other man in India all those years ago...much less from Cass’s memories of him from San Francisco.
Shaking that off with an effort, Balidor lowered his voice.
“Jon,” he said, sighing. “I didn’t tell anyone for this very reason.”
“What reason is that?” Jon snapped. “The one where she slits your throat after she convinces you to trust her? Or the one where she uses you as a means of contacting Shadow....to tell him exactly where we are?”
“Shadow doesn’t need Cass for that,” Balidor reminded him coldly.
“No. But it sure as hell wouldn’t hurt, would it, ‘Dori?” Shifting his stance, Jon dropped some of the anger from his voice again when he said, “What are you doing man? Seriously? Are you really not going to tell me?”
“I already did tell you!”
“You can’t really think you can reach her...”
“Why not?” Balidor snapped. “Why the hell not, Jon? We reached Revik, and he was arguably much further gone than––”
“Allie was bonded to Revik,” Jon said, staring at him incredulously. “It’s not the same and you know it! Allie had a direct line into Revik’s light...he couldn’t get rid of her if he tried, so she was bound to wear him down eventually. Moreover Revik didn’t want to keep her out. He wanted her in his light, whatever his bark and bite at the time...”
“I know that,” Balidor began angrily. “Who the hell do you think you are talking to right now, Jon? The situation doesn’t need to be identical in order for me to––”
“Identical?” Jon stared at him incredulously. “Dude, they’re a million fucking miles apart.”
Silence fell between them.
“So you think I cannot help her? Cass?” Balidor said. “That I cannot reach her, no matter how long I try?”
“I think that’s a black hole, man,” Jon said, that incredulity back in his voice. “I think she doesn’t want to come back...”
“I’m the head of the Adhipan, Jon,” Balidor said, again fighting anger. “Believe it or not, I have some experience in this. Moreover––”
“You’re not her mate, Balidor...” Jon said, his voice incredulous again. “Jesus. Do I need to draw a map for you? If you think you’re making progress with her, you’re deluding yourself. She’s fucking with you, man...I guarantee it.”
Balidor fell silent.
Even so, anger once more seethed off his light.
After a few more seconds, Jon exhaled in frustration.
“Look...‘Dori.” He subdued his voice. “I’m not cracking on your mad skills...I’m not. She was good at this kind of thing even when we were kids. You don’t understand the childhood she had, the kinds of survival skills she had to learn in order to––”
“I might understand better than you think,” Balidor cut in.
Hearing the coldness of his own tone, feeling the emotion coiling and sparking through his light, he fought to dial it back. He knew the image of his drunk father still echoed somewhere in the back of his mind. He knew it was clouding things, as much as Cass was herself.
Normally he valued Jon’s opinion.
More than most. More than a lot of Adhipan seers he’d worked with over the years.
Even as he thought it, Jon walked over to him, slumping in the padded chair next to his. Balidor hadn’t yet looked up when the other man laid a hand on his arm, pulsing warmth and light through his skin. It was a seer’s gesture of affection, and done so naturally it made Balidor jump. It also caused him to look up, which is perhaps what Jon wanted.
“‘Dori,” Jon said, his voice holding an overt concern. “What’s this about?”
Balidor blinked at him, confused by the question, and by that sudden warmth. “What is it about?” he said, his voice still aggressive. “She’s an intermediary, Jon. She’s one of the Four. I can’t just let her...” Trailing, he bit the inside of his cheek, stopping himself. Then he said it anyway. “She was my friend. I don’t like leaving people behind.”
Jon looked at him, his expression openly skeptical. “And?” he said.
“And what?”
“You’re not going to tell me?” Jon said. “The rest of it, I mean?”
Balidor felt that tightness return to his chest. “I just did tell you,” he said coldly.
He felt his own evasion. He knew Jon felt it, too.
The other man just looked at him, though. Then he nodded, letting out a clicking sigh.
“How long, ‘Dori?” Jon said then.
“How long what?”
“How long have you been doing this? Working with her like this?”
Balidor felt his jaw tighten, even as he wondered why he felt the need to answer to Jon at all. He did answer him though, even as he leaned back in his chair.
“Since she got here, Jon,” he said, motioning a shrug sharply with one hand. “More or less.”
“Since she got here.” Jon’s jaw clenched. “So....months. You’ve been doing this with her for months. Going into her memories? Getting more and more into her light?”
“What do you care, Jon?” Balidor said, giving him a hard look. “It’s my time to waste.”
“It’s insubordination,” Jon said with a grunt. “Or had you forgotten you answer to Allie, man? And to Revik for that matter?”
There was another silence. In it, Balidor didn’t look up.
Jon sighed again. “Why, ‘Dori?”
“I told you why. No one else was doing it.”
“‘Dori....” Jon said, clicking again, softer that time.
“Are you going to tell them?” Balidor cut in. “Revik?” He felt his throat tighten. “...Your sister? Any of the others?”
Jon seemed to think about that too. After another pause, he sighed again, leaning his arms on the table. He bent his head, combing his fingers through his sandy-blond hair.
“No,” he said, lifting his gaze. Studying Balidor’s face for another long-feeling moment, he said, “Are you making any progress with her, ‘Dor? Anything you’ve noticed?”
Something about the emotion behind the question caused that harder knot in Balidor’s muscles to finally unclench. Or maybe it was that he believed Jon that he wouldn’t tell the others.
At least not yet.
He exhaled himself, giving a purring roll of a sigh.
“I honestly don’t know,” he admitted, refolding his arms tighter.
Jon nodded, still studying his face.
Something in that probing stare made Balidor wince back a little. Avoiding the other man’s eyes, he clicked under his breath.
“How’s the party stuff going?” he said, if only to get that look off the other’s face.
There was a pause. Then Jon smiled, shaking his head.
“Revik and Christmas, man...” Jon smiled. “It’s an....experience.”
“How is that?” Balidor said, smiling back in spite of himself.
“He’s like a big kid,” Jon grinned, shaking his head as he drummed his long fingers on the metal table. “Of course, his excuse is that it’s for Lily...”
“Of course,” Balidor said, smiling wider.
“You’re coming, right?” Jon said, studying his face again. “To the party? It might be our last shindig for awhile. They want to do it in the morning. So tomorrow, man.”
Balidor nodded, glancing towards the door in spite of himself.
He wanted to get back to it, he realized.
Back to that cell. Back to Cass.
When he glanced back at Jon, the scrutiny in the other man’s hazel irises had intensified once more. Somehow, Balidor distinctly got the impression that Jon had felt some inkling of what passed through his mind just then...or maybe he’d just read his body language.
Either way, Balidor pretended not to notice.
“I’ll be there,” he said neutrally, giving him another wan smile. “...With bells on, Jon.”
Jon snorted, but that more penetrating stare never left Balidor’s face.
4
What’s It Going To Take?
Balidor didn’t hesitate.
He didn’t even bother to try and gauge her mood.
He shut the thick door behind him, signaling via his headset for Maygar to spin the wheel shut on the other side.
Strangely, Maygar ended up being Balidor’s one ally in his attempts with Cass. The other seer had noticed what Balidor was doing with her.
He’d noticed a good two months before Jon had.
Moreover, he’d been strangely...if quietly...supportive of Balidor’s attempts. He’d also taken it upon himself to watch over the tank from virtual from time to time while Balidor worked inside, and to spot Balidor in person when Balidor asked him to.
Balidor hadn’t mentioned that side of things to Jon.
He and Maygar had never discussed the arrangement in so many terms, either. Therefore, Balidor could only guess the other male’s motives. Maygar himself had been an outcast. Like Cassandra, he’d also been an outcast primarily due to his own actions.
They’d also both been taken by the dark being, Shadow.
They’d been taken by Shadow at roughly the same time, too...and housed in that same chateau in Argentina as captives. Maygar had been tortured by the same being who tortured and eventually dismantled the mind of Cass. Maybe Maygar felt the same could have happened to him, under different circumstances. Or maybe he just remembered what it was like to screw up to an unforgivable degree and be totally alone as a result.
They were close to the same age, too.
Balidor realized with a flush of anger that a worm of jealousy lived there. That same jealousy made him question if they’d been more than friends. Remembering the scrutiny in Jon’s eyes as he questioned him about Cass, he tried to shove that from his mind too.
You’re not her mate, Balidor...
The words echoed in his mind somewhere, and not only because they’d stung. They also ignited something in his more tactical, infiltrator mind. That something had wormed into his mind, and now he couldn’t fully dislodge it.
He knew he had more than one motive, of course.
He didn’t care.
He was seriously out of ideas.
So he’d asked Maygar to lock him in again tonight...then told the other seer not to stick around. He told him to make sure the surveillance was off, then leave.
Maygar quirked an eyebrow at him, but didn’t argue.
Balidor had finished locking his side of the door when he thought about this again.
He glanced up in time to see the indicator light above the door go from red to blue-green, telling him that the Barrier seal was reignited over the tank. That same seal would keep Shadow and his people from getting anywhere near Cass’s light or mind while she was locked up in here. It was the only thing that gave any of them a prayer of reaching her without Shadow killing her the instant he started to make progress with her.
But he was still stalling.
Turning, he crossed the room. He didn’t stop at the edge of the black circle painted on the green metal that time. He walked right over that circle instead.
He stood directly over her, hands on his hips. Then he exhaled, watching her look up at him. Surprise flickered across her delicate features....a surprise that struck him as almost unaffected in those few seconds.
Of course, according to Jon, Balidor was being a sucker for even thinking that.
The thought made him clench his jaw harder.
“What’s it going to take, Cassandra?” he said. “Are you going to tell me? Or am I just the nightly amusement, in lieu of the guards offering you access to the feeds?”
She blinked up at him.
Her face again rippled faintly with that surprise.
Then she leaned back on the wall. He watched her make an effort to pull that more cynical cloak back over her energy and expression. He was standing so close to her now, he could feel her doing it. He could feel the broken pieces there, too, the gaps that Shadow had exploited in her light, that he’d used to break her, to make her dependent on him.
He was still looking down at her, when he made up his mind.<
br />
For real that time.
Reaching for the top of his shirt, he started unfastening the catches by his throat and then down his chest. He didn’t take his eyes off her face as he did it, but continued to gauge her expression, his light more or less open.
It might not be a full request, but he could see her acknowledging the question there, even as incredulity made her expression look almost young.
Then he felt something else.
Pain rippled through her light.
It was undeniably sex pain.
Enough of it hit into him that he stumbled in what he’d been doing, losing track of buttons and button holes, his throat closing as he fumbled with his shirt. He felt his face heat, but he didn’t avert his gaze from hers. It struck him suddenly that she wouldn’t have had sex in a long time. A very long time, unless he was very mistaken about her relationship with the guards that watched over this cell.
He was already hard.
“Tell me no,” he said, gruff.
She shook her head. “No.”
He smiled in spite of himself, averting his gaze for the first time, and struggling with his shirt again.
“Come here,” she said, softer.
He barely hesitated. He was on his knees in front of her then, and she was facing him, up on her own knees as she reached for his shirt.
“They’re going to be mad at you for this,” she murmured as she took over undressing him, tugging the tails of his shirt out of his belt.
“I don’t give a fuck,” he said, his voice still tense.
“You obviously give a little bit of a fuck,” she said, quirking an eyebrow at him humorously. She paused long enough with the shirt to run a hand over the front of his pants. When he sucked in a breath, she slowed, massaging him in a way that told him she was exploring him, too.
“Nice,” she murmured, wrapping her hand around him tighter. When his back arched as he got even harder, she pressed on him more. “...Really nice. But Balidor...this is pretty decadent for you, isn’t it?” She glanced up, meeting his gaze. “Isn’t this against your holy codes too? Surely there’s got to be some ethical thing about taking advantage of prisoners...fucking psych ward patients...whatever the hell you tell yourself I am...?”
