Many meetings: Haroun / Tim, the Four Musketeers, MacInnis, and Alison, Four Musketeers + Cain

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Before the meeting, Haroun has a chance meeting with the man upon whose head he was plotting to drop a helicopter back in February. He and Tim growl at each other, not unexpectedly, but Haroun also offers some advice.


He liked this place, Tim reflected, staring out at the grounds. The porch was empty around him - not surprisingly, it was kind of cold out here - but the silence was soothing. Not at all like being back in Galicia, where he had to be on his guard, all the time. And not like being back ho--at Mistra, either.

Haroun walked out of the Mansion, looking up at the sky longingly. As soon as he got clear, he'd go grab some sky for a little while. That plan, however, came to a screeching halt as he spotted a familiar figure out on the porch. "Good morning." he said in as friendly a tone as he could muster, considering that the last time he saw the man, he was trying to kill him.

Tim glanced at him, smiling very faintly. "Morning," he said, with a good semblance of an amiable tone. "Just getting some air before the meeting." The memory of swatting this man out of the air came back, abrupt and vivid, and Tim sighed inwardly, wondering if al-Rashid would just go away if he ignored him.

"Meeting. Right." he said, remembering Nathan's post on the topic. "You're just in town for a day or so, right?" he asked in a friendly way, stepping almost uncomfortably close to Tim. Damn him, his mind was probably far faster than even the prosthetics.

Tim stiffened, light flickering around him for a moment before he wrestled the instinctive response back under control. The exoskeleton was not called for, here. "Leaving tomorrow," he said curtly, edging away. "Plenty of work to do over in Europe."

Haroun saw the light display, and resolved to keep a very close eye on the former - or supposedly former! - Mistra operative. "So what do you think of Westchester?" he asked pleasantly, gesturing with one hand towards the Mansion grounds.

"Quiet. Surreal. This many mutant kids running around doing whatever the hell they want isn't something I ever thought I'd see." Tim imagined Nathan must have expressed similar reactions, when he'd first arrived.

~And not a conditioning cell in sight.~ he thought. Loudly. Outwardly, he smiled pleasantly. "Yes, the children are a large part of why we're here." he confirmed. "To let them actually be children in a safe environment, not hunted down and turned into killers."

Tim bristled a bit; he couldn't help it. There was just something about the way the man was approaching the conversation... "That would be why I'm in Spain willingly spending time with MacInnis, too," he said as evenly as he could.

Haroun nodded reaffirmingly. "Of course." he said with a smile. "Because he's got the best interests of the children at heart as well."

Tim couldn't mask the wariness in his expression anymore. "Somewhere in there, yes. I think."

Haroun nodded in agreement. "Well, I hope your business concludes quickly." he said with another grin. "I'm sure you'd like to get back in the field soon."

"Mmm." Tim gave him an assessing look, wondering just what that meant. "You don't seem to have taken any lasting damage from the last time we met," he said slowly.

"You'd be surprised. The total damage came out to something approximating a quarter-million dollars, all in." Haroun said calmly. "Not to mention spending a good bit of time offline."

"Looks can be deceiving, then. Nate said something to me about you having planned to steal our helicopter and drop it on my head." Tim met his eyes squarely, giving in to the peevishness he felt at being poked at like this. "You realize I probably would have caught it and used it to swat you like a fly?"

"You were a little busy at the time, and frankly you don't strike me as being that good." he said, still keeping his friendly smile.

Actually, somewhat like being at Mistra after all, Tim reflected. Same dominance game. He gave Haroun a hard smile. "In a way, you're right. I'm not that good because you don't have to be, when you've got enough raw power to compensate for a lack of finesse."

Haroun gritted his teeth and grinned at Tim. Goddamned psions! "And I see that you finessed your way into a very nice concussion at the end of the day. I dropped four of yours and walked away."

"Did you," Tim said. "Tell me, did that count of four include Valeri, at the helicopter? Woman with two broken legs already, before you laid a finger on her?" For a moment, he struggled with bleak worry, hoping that Jackie had gotten proper medical treatment, but he managed to hold the smile on his face, although it turned very strained. "Now, that must have been a hell of a challenge."

Haroun grinned. "She was up when I got to her, and down when I walked away. I'll count it as an assisted win." he said with a smirk. "I just wish I could have nailed that chopper, take all your little Spartans down. One by one, down and out. May have even stripped this conditioning of theirs all the way. You could have your own little private army to go tromping over the globe with."

Son of a bitch. Inwardly, Tim was seething, even though his common sense was telling him that al-Rashid really had no way to know just how solid a hit that really had been. How fucking guilty he felt about being the only one of his team to get out. "Trust me," he said laconically, instead. "If physical injury was enough to break the conditioning, there would have been a lot more of us out a long time ago."

"Who said anything about the injury being physical? Nathan mindraped you but good, stripped out all that Mistran crap. If I could have brought the ride down, we could have freed all of them. A, what, half-dozen men? More, perhaps?" he said with a smile. "Just think about it for a moment."

"It knocked Nathan out to use the Trojan Horse on me," Tim said very tightly. "He wasn't going to be using it on anyone else that day. If you'd brought the helicopter down, the rest of my team would have fought to kill. Which we weren't doing, by the way."

Haroun grinend at that. "Sure you weren't." he said with a wide smile. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Do you get a kick out of sounding like an arrogant, overconfident asshole who doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about?" Tim asked conversationally.

Haroun grinned at that. "Depends. You get a kick out of being a supposedly-reformed babykiller on enemy turf?" he replied conversationally. "I'll be keeping a real close eye on you, Timmy boy." he said with a laugh.

"You do that," Tim grated, struggling to hold onto that stubbornness-fueled inner balance. If he lost his grip on his emotions there was no telling how this would end. "Answer me a question? Why hasn't Nathan swatted you for being such a sanctimonious son of a bitch yet? If that's how you feel about those of us who used to be Mistra..."

Haroun grinned. "Nathan's my buddy. See, he's proven his committment over and over again. I trust him with my life. You? You're just some asshole, you know? Could be any one of a number of things. So until you pan out, I'll be keeping a real close eye on you."

"And just what do I have to do to pan out? Huh?" Starting to slip, but he couldn't help it, couldn't push the emotions down and away where they belonged, damn it... Tim turned on Haroun, his eyes burning and his struggle to keep control written all over his face. "Come on, al-Rashid. Share already."

Haroun studied Tim, seeing his struggle for control. "Well, pulling off this plan of MacInnis's to free the rest of the Mistrans would be a really good first start." he said slowly. "Then maybe starting to make some amends for the crap you pulled when you were one of Them. Do some good out there in the world. Help our people."

It hit Tim, then, that he couldn't see beyond Mistra, or even beyond the success of MacInnis' plan. There was no after, still - his imagination just wouldn't reach that far. "Then there's no difference between being out here and being back there, is there?" he said restlessly, angrily, forcing himself to turn away and stare back out at the grounds. "I'm either theirs, or I'm making up what they turned me into when I was twelve years old, and everything I did... all of this bullshit Nathan talks about having a life doesn't mean anything, does it?"

"You've got a long way to go, Tim." Haroun said sympathetically. "And one of the best ways you can make amends is to _live_. Discover who and what you are outside of the big-brained stone-cold killer. And hey, maybe you'll come to the same conclusion Nathan has - that there's a lot of fuckers out there who like putting little boys and girls into boxes and scrubbing their minds clear until they become nice obedient little killers. Just. Like. You."

He was going to be sick. Or scream. Or pop al-Rashid's head like a grape - one of the three. But Tim managed to keep staring out at the grounds, although his hands clenched tightly on the railing, a glow starting around them again that he didn't notice this time.

"Later," he said, his voice almost faint. "After. We have to finish this first."

"Hey, nobody said that the path from stone killer to a real human being was easy." said Haroun with a laugh. "But you've got Nathan to help you, and from what I hear that cat-girl you dragged along with you seems to have her shit together. Someday, I hope, you'll be able to stand before God and say, with total honesty, that you'd repented. I would like to see that day come before I die."

There was no telling what Tim might have said to the idea of repentance, as the door behind them opened and MacInnis stepped out onto the porch, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two of them standing there together. "About time for that meeting, Timothy," he said, not wasting any time on small talk. Tim, taken by surprise by his sudden appearance, couldn't repress a flinch - like a dog expecting a kick, part of him thought bitterly. MacInnis smiled thinly, then looked at Haroun. "al-Rashid."

"MacInnis." Haroun said, in precisely the same way one would talk to a rabid dog. Turning back to Tim, he smiled at the other man. "Think about it." he told him, then clapped him on the shoulder and stepped away far enough to ignite and take to the sky.


Nathan, Tim, Mick, Anika, and Alison meet with MacInnis to settle some details about Mick and Ani's move to Spain. There's hitting, both physical and verbal. A lot more about Mistra's methods and MacInnis' motivations come into the light.


"Still think we should have insisted on neutral ground in the city," MacInnis said disapprovingly, sizing up the room. It looked like an empty classroom of the smaller sort. He would have been much more comfortable in the city, at a nice, anonymous bar or in the back of a warehouse somewhere.

"You use that word awfully freely," Tim muttered, moving over to the windows. "We." They gave a good view of this side of the mansion grounds, and he took a deep breath, part of him wishing that he was still out there, or hell, anywhere but here. Riding herd on the old rat bastard was a slightly more nerve-wracking experience than he'd expected, and despite the fact that he was soon to have reinforcements, he was still... twitchy, especially after that conversation with al-Rashid.

The door opened, Alison backing into the room with a tray in hand - tea, coffee and assorted items weighed it down and then some. She balanced it easily though and used one foot to keep the door open long enough to clear the tray through the doorway before flipping it closed behind her. "Tim! Hi!" A bright smile accompanied that greeting, Alison heading in their direction - the tray mostly pointed in MacInnis direction, really.

"Alison," Tim said curtly, half-turning around from the window. "Where are the others?" MacInnis frowned and took the tray as she pushed it at him.

She waved a hand in Tim's direction, rolling her eyes at him. "Oh, don't be such a grump. By the way - how badly do you want this coffee?" The smile widened just a bit and she gave Tim enough time to get close enough to lunge and catch, if he was so inclined, before very deliberately, and without any warning at all, letting go with a neat right hook at MacInnis.

It connected. MacInnis stumbled backwards, dropping the tray - which the shining golden claw of an exoskeleton caught, neatly. "Well," Tim said dryly as MacInnis tried to catch his balance. "That was worth waiting for."

There was a strangled cough from the door, and Nathan raised an eyebrow at the scene he, Ani, and Mick had just walked in on. "What, you started the fun without us? Not nice at all..."

Alison pulled back, shaking her head just a bit. "I, you should know by now, have perfect timing. Always. It's the rock star thing," she informed him gravely, before giving MacInnis a flat look. "There's ice in a container on the tray." Not that he deserved it.

"So what was that for?" MacInnis muttered, rubbing his jaw as he straightened. He nodded at the other three, giving Nathan a particularly intent look.

Tim transferred the tray smoothly to the table, then switched off the partial exoskeleton. "She's a woman of discriminating taste, Mac," he murmured wryly, then smiled faintly at the newly-arrived. "Hey, guys."

Anika, after one narrow-eyed look at MacInnis, scampered across the room and threw her arms around Tim. "I was going to hit you, too, but I decided against it," she said, her voice muffled against Tim's chest.

The look Anika gave MacInnis left no doubt as to how she felt about him, and Alison was dearly tempted to point out to him that she'd potentially saved him from far worse. But that would be petty, right? "Have some coffee. It's really very good." And he was pouring his own.

She turned on her heel and walked over to Mick with a small grin, feeling entirely relaxed about this so far. Maybe it had something to do with hitting MacInnis, though she wasn't going to waste time wondering about it. "Hey you..."

Mick smiled, then stepped forward and hugged her. "Hey," he said steadily, no uncertainty at all in the hug. He gave her a wryly dubious look as he drew back, though. "I was expecting a lecture."

Nathan made a noise that might have been a laugh and went over to the table, getting a cup of coffee, eyeing MacInnis as he approached. "Hello," he said in a neutral voice.

"Enh." Alison shrugged a bit, with a self-deprecating smile. "I yelled at Tim first when he decided to do that. And well - I'd probably do something that stupid too. Maybe. Really stupid." She nodded wisely, then gave both Nathan and MacInnis a pointed look. And moved a step over to pick up a knick knack from a nearby desk, hefting it meaningfully. Even though MacInnis tended to work the mental abuse only in private, she figured it was better to be armed than sorry.

Ani finally let go of Tim, and flopped down into a chair, glaring at MacInnis. "So I gather we're going to be living together for a while," she said acidly. "You smell like old socks, you bastard. I hate you and would like to claw you six ways from Sunday." Every set of eyes in the room went to her, and she smiled cheerfully. "I figured it was important to say that at the outset."

Mick coughed. "Ani," he said, sounding half-amused, half-appalled - and maybe a little bit appreciative.

Nathan snorted again, softly, adding sugar to his coffee. Sugar and caffeine was a good combination. He was still only averaging a couple of hours of sleep a night; he needed the boost.

"Best to get all the posturing out of the way first, yes," MacInnis said a bit dryly, getting the aforementioned ice. "Given that it's not particularly productive."

"Well, not to you," Alison offered generously, arching an eyebrow at the sugar with coffee Nathan seemed to be preparing for himself. "It did wonders for me though," she added absently, looking entirely too serene while offering a calm smile at Tim. Obviously, she had no problems with Anika's brand of honesty.

A muffled sound at the still open door and seconds later, a small form darted inside, two arms wrapping themselves around Alison's legs firmly. A few muffled words followed, drawing a faint chuckle from her even as she tried to free herself up enough to get a hold of the small boy now attached to her in return. "Yes, Miles, I think they would."

Ani was beaming suddenly at Miles. Mick was smiling broadly, and even Tim cracked a grudging smile. Nathan's smile was more brief, and he turned his attention back to the coffee, trying to ignore the slight unsteadiness of his hands. He could feel MacInnis' eyes on him, could sense... no, he wouldn't, he tried to tell himself. Not when this has already started off so badly... A shot now would just worsen things.

Tim blinked and looked at Nathan, hard. Don't, he thought pointedly, let him get to you.

Nathan looked around at him, their eyes locking. #He told you about...#

Nathan... I knew. I may not have been there, but we all heard about it afterwards. Tim's hazel eyes were steady. I've never thrown it in your face and I'm not about to start.

Peeking at Nathan, and then Tim, Miles frowned just a bit. There was the telepathy going again, no doubt about it, while everyone was distracted by looking at him of all things. And Nathan looked sad, even if he was trying to hide it in his cup of coffee. Despite the overwhelming shyness at so many new (or still kind of new) people being around, Miles detached his arms from Alison long enough to dart over towards Nathan, because clearly a hug would be needed there. He'd run for it after. Fast.

Crossing her arms Alison hid a grin at the sight, and indulged in looking around at the others just a bit, while Miles was busy applying the best cure-all he knew.

Nathan laughed softly as Miles attached himself. "Hey, champ," he said softly. The hug was... rather nice, actually, and he took a deep breath, relaxing a little even though he could still feel MacInnis' eyes on him.

"Hey there," Ani said, intrigued, as Miles looked around at the others.

Miles' eyes went wide and round and he peered at Anika for all of ten seconds, while doing his level best to hide further somehow while not letting go of Nathan in the process. Apparently, pretty older women he did not know well were a sight likely to elicit shyness - and then some. "Mileswillgogetcookiesnow!"

He sped away from Nathan, then stopped abruptly to give MacInnis a frown. "Miles thinks no cookies for you!" And with that, he made good his escape, peeling through the doorway with a quick wave for Alison.

"Uh-huh," MacInnis murmured, taking a seat. "Shall we get on to business?" he asked, his attention on Anika and Mick now. "I think there are some details that need to be settled."

Alison joined the others at the table after closing the door - Miles would know to knock, or whoever else was sent back with cookies and milk for that matter.

"I don't see what," Mick said, before Anika could do more than glare at the older man again. "It's fairly simple," he said, very calmly, with a steadiness in both his gaze and his manner that had been absolutely lacking since November and the breaking of his conditioning. "Anika and I are coming to support Tim's work with your other ex-operatives."

"And I can use both of them," Tim said, his eyes boring into MacInnis. "Your second-gens are good, don't get me wrong. But Ani and Mick can add immeasurably to our flexibility in the field."

"Plus, you can present a united front," MacInnis said, raising an eyebrow at Tim. "Didn't take you long to start looking for reinforcements, did it, Timothy?"

It took Alison a moment to realize what she'd done as she stared across the table, wondering at the sudden silence in the room and the expression on MacInnis' face. "Did I...?" She blinked and then her eyes widened. "Oh. I did. Aaaah... oops?"

MacInnis gave her a long, dark look, not batting an eyelash at having just been kicked under the table. "You know," he said, "you can stop that right now, Ms. Blaire. Or I will turn around and go back to Spain and we won't be doing this."

"Like hell--" Tim started heatedly, but MacInnis shook his head.

"I gave you joint operational command, Timothy," he said flatly. "That does not include a veto as to who gets to stay under my roof." He glanced at Mick and Ani. "I won't deny Michael and Anika could be very helpful, but pardon me if I'm not willing to pander to nonsense."

Alison rolled her eyes at that, suddenly not regretting whatever had made her kick him all that much. "Oh please. The kindergarden manipulation techniques get old. And it really was a reflex," she tacked in, wrinkling her nose. Kindergarden bullies and kicks to the shin worked well, after all. #Nathan? Time to pratice that multiple linking thing you've been working on, mmm?#

If nothing else, the moral support and direct contact with others would do him worlds of good, no matter what MacInnis said. That applied to the others as well. "And the nonsense is staying right here with her own team, if that makes you any happier."

Nathan reached out tentatively, linking the five of them. #You can all hear me?# he asked, getting affirmatives from all of them. "I don't really think there is much to negotiate," he said, aloud, his voice low. "Having Mick and Anika there can only make your teams more efficient in the field. You don't have any reason or excuse to turn them down."

"Pity," Ani murmured blackly.

"Besides," Mick said suddenly, reaching out for a cup. His voice was calm, utterly level. "Your authority doesn't have much of a moral leg to stand on here. You helped found Mistra." He looked up at MacInnis, his expression very hard, suddenly. "I don't trust you," he said bluntly, "and I don't know why these former second-gens do."

"I don't care whether or not any of you trust me, son," MacInnis said coldly. "I have other priorities."

"But you need us," Nathan said very quietly, staring down at the table. "Otherwise you wouldn't have shown us all your cards." He looked up at MacInnis. "Can we stop this?" he asked, his voice very faintly unsteady. "It's not going to get us anywhere."

#If you can't trust the people you work with...# Alison sighed a bit. Trust wasn't something MacInnis cared for by simple virtue that he knew he'd lost any chance of earning it without a lot of work, years ago. So he'd taken the easier road of setting himself up as he was now, as opposed to try. Or maybe he was so blind about his goals he couldn't see how he was still letting Mistra affect him in very fundamental ways.

She leaned back a bit in her chair, feeling for the link - it had something similar to what the dampened one in the back of her mind had used to have with Betsy, which she barely felt at all these days. Only it was livelier, as though several someones were jostling for attention while trying to remain quiet at the same time.

"Not only that, but an inability to trust or work together may very well be what is used against us ultimately, if we aren't careful." She was a touch amused at the way she'd said that - so much for the nonsense staying here, really. Alison was as committed to this as any of them. "There needs to be... something at least, MacInnis. A lack of being attacked or put on one's guard from within as well as without."

#He's not going to admit that he's doing that,# Tim sent down the link.

#Of course he's not. But we all know he is.# That was Ani, her mental voice still managing to sound disgusted.

#We can handle it,# Mick said, trying to sound confident. #I mean, if nothing else there'll be the three of us there...#

"You're regretting the agreement," Nathan said suddenly, watching MacInnis. "Already. Tim's being that effective with your ex-operatives, is he?"

MacInnis opened his mouth, then closed it again, giving first Nathan and then Tim a long, thoughtful look. "No offense, son," he said to Tim, "but I don't trust you." He sighed as Tim glared at him. "How long until the impact of it all finally hits, and you start actually processing that your conditioning's gone? Because you haven't yet. You know that."

This wasn't a stand she had to make, not exactly. But still. #He doesn't know how else to interact but to be on the attack. He's been that way for too long. But he does have a point Tim. He's just forgetting a few things in the process - you'll have Mick and Anika right there to ground you, for one. And more.# And there would be others too, though not as immediate. She sent that along, a wordless form of support.

"He won't be attacked by the people he's working with for it, when that happens," Alison said slowly. "If it even does in any noticeable way. It's not about being weak and ready for take-over anymore, the group dynamics aren't like that... Elliott, Bourne, Carey, Malcolm - all the others as well. The integration of everything that's changed might very well be a gradual and healthy process." The Trojan Horse had changed things that way.

Mick's fingers were tapping out a nervous rhythm on the table. "So does that go for me, too?" he asked suddenly, looking at MacInnis. "You don't trust me, because I didn't handle my conditioning breaking well?"

Ani hissed suddenly. "You're doing just fine!" she said, sounding almost enraged. MacInnis opened his mouth to reply, but she went on, cutting him off savagely. "And you, you bastard, you have no right to 'worry' about any of us!"

"I have every right, Anika," MacInnis said steadily. "If it causes either Michael or Timothy - or you - to fuck up in the field and get yourselves or any of my people killed or recaptured."

"And you don't trust the judgement of your own people either, MacInnis?" Alison was calm because she had to be, keeping focused and centered and trying to pour some of that into the group link, to try and give the more volatile feral something to fall back on instead of falling for MacInnis' ploy. Mick was doing fine - coming here being a step that very clearly indicated that. "After all, they know better than anyone else where Tim is right now. And Mick. And Anika. If anyone can be the judge of their mental condition, they are."

#He's pushing buttons again. Trying to see how steady things are.#

The calmer the ex-operatives in the room remained, the more it would prove MacInnis wrong, really.

"He doesn't," Nathan said abruptly. Shaking off the slightly distant, uncertain demeanor as if he'd been fully engaged in the conversation all along. Every set of eyes in the room went to him. "He doesn't trust their judgement." He sounded almost startled, as if he'd come to one of those Very Important Realizations. "No one who's had conditioning. We're not..." He paused, his eyes narrowing at MacInnis. "What is it, a combination of paternalism and guilt? You don't think we're capable of..." Again, a pause, and Nathan's expression was suddenly both noticeably paler and more set. "You see a ceiling," he said, "that we can't ever break through, whether we get rid of our conditioning or not. We're always going to be just that little bit less than human in your eyes."

Anika's nose was twitching rapidly. Mick looked strangely stricken, while Tim was staring at the top of the table as if he was finding something terribly interesting in the grain-pattern of the wood. Answers, maybe.

For a moment, there was a flash of something else in MacInnis' eyes, something indefinable and vaguely sad. "Am I that far off?" he asked quietly. The furniture in the room rattled, and Nathan looked away, his jaw clenching.

"You're locked in your own conditioning," Alison said in the silence that followed, that same hint of sudden revelation coloring her voice as she stared at MacInnis. Things tumbled into place in her mind, triggering a pattern that stretched out, locking other elements into place, generating new questions faster than she could keep track of them.

"You were a director for so long that the inability to get beyond the ingrained mindset about how to view operatives still affects you now. And you can't see beyond the patterns they've kept and integrated as their own," she meant the pack reflexes, some of the mission techniques, "in healthy and good ways, because to you they only mean one thing. You can't see that as anything but conditioning still being there."

There was more unfolding with each passing second, stretching out to how his team worked, things Elliott had said when she'd spoken to him however briefly it had been, how MacInnis had worried for them after the return from Canada but still kept himself apart - and that hit another chord, the reaction to which she buried instantly. But not the knowing.

"And if you did accept it, then it would mean... You're an outsider looking in. No matter what you do. And you're afraid to take the final step to integrate to how they work together because you're afraid you'll hit a wall and it won't work, that you won't be able to fit into the flow of it all successfully. But staying on the outside - that isn' t working either, not anymore. And you can't avoid it anymore, now that Tim is there. And Mick and Anika being be there too will just make it... that much more inevitable."

MacInnis gazed back at her for a long moment before he answered. "Do you know why we switched from the first-generation conditioning, Blaire?" he asked, focusing on her, as if they were the only ones in the room. "It wasn't just because of how damned... inefficient it was." His lips twisted bitterly at his own choice of words. "Ruiz and some of the others... they didn't like what was happening over the course of years. What they were seeing in the first-gens. We were creating fundamentally honorable people, Alison." It was the first time he'd used her first name to her face. "Operatives who'd die for each other, as easily or more easily than they'd die for the mission. They were developing a complex social structure amongst themselves that had been completely unforeseen."

"No." Alison was shaking her head a bit as she spoke, that remote expression still on her face as she worked things through. "You took fundamentally honorable people, and unwittingly gave them the tools to remain true to themselves in the long run. To find the loopholes and exploit them for all they were worth. And to redirect whatever they could towards each other." It was so... obvious. Couldn't he see it?

"That's why the conditioning of all the first generation operatives started to fail so critically, over time. And with each one whose training went, it caused a cascade effect with the others. The first time we found Mick? He was beating it on his own. And all of them - they were already integrating those tools so deeply that they could start to go beyond the rest of the conditioning itself. It didn't keep hold because the basic social structure you gave them had enough leeway for them to start throwing it off on their own. And from that point onward, the degradation of the conditioning was an entirely normal thing. So of course these are the tools they kept once the conditioning was gone, along with the social structure." She took a deep breath, trying to catch up with the mental gears clicking into place, one after the other. "And it's also in part - because they are human beings who went through something only they understand in its entirety. Casting that aside would be casting part of who they became through all of this. And it would be casting aside each other as well, in the process."

The four ex-operatives in the room were acting very much as if the conversation didn't involve them in the slightest. Anika had folded in on herself in her chair, her blue eyes wide and more than a little wild. Mick was staring down at the floor, obviously struggling to keep his expression level, and mostly failing. Tim had sunk his face into his hands, as if to hide whatever was being reflected on his features.

And Nathan was utterly blank-faced, his eyes alarmingly vacant. MacInnis looked over at him, frowning a little, and he seemed to shake it off, at least a little. "Answer me a question, Colin," he said, his voice gravelly. Using MacInnis' first name for the first time. "What we were always told, about why we survived the conditioning... that we were more pliable, so we could stand the alterations better... is that true?"

MacInnis opened his mouth, then closed it again, his eyes moving over the other three and then back to Nathan. "No," he said very softly. "In fact it's the opposite of the truth. But you know why we told you that, don't you?"

"To make us doubt ourselves," Ani hissed suddenly, her eyes glimmering with tears. "Make us feel weak..."

Mick looked like he'd just been poleaxed. He looked across almost hesitantly to Tim, who still hadn't raised his face from his hands.

It was started and there was no way to stop it now, even though in some ways Alison wished that perhaps she'd had the chance to figure out a few of the things now becoming even more blindingly obvious to her in another setting, or another way. But they were all seeing it now. And then there was another of those mental switches, something else falling into place, bright and clear in her mind.

"That's why there was still a high death rate among the second-gen operatives." It might have gone down from eighty to fifty percent on average, but what to Mistra was a success was still an abomination. "That's why you left, it's what you couldn't stomach anymore. The first run was about finding talents and abilities that were exploitable. But then things changed - reports about how the conditioning was sinking in showed you that there were flaws in what you were doing that were not going to go away."

Her hands were shaking and she reached out, not sure whose hand grasped hers in return - but she clung to it for dear life. "It became even more purposeful. They run exhaustive psych evals on the kids they bring in now, don't they? The death rate isn't a survival matter as much anymore. They had time to perfect the whole process... They could all survive the training now. The death rate is about getting rid of those who show the same inclinations and profile as the first generation operatives did in spite of the preliminary observations and who might turn out to follow the same social and mental progression." She took a deep breath. "And that's the point that broke you. Because seeing children who could have followed the path of the original first-gens, become - no, stay honourable despite everything that was done to them being purposeful killed was something you couldn't rationalize anymore. Not that." She was reaching out again as she did so, though it was only after a few moments that she realized she was doing so through the link, as opposed to physically this time.

"Fuck," Tim said hoarsely, his voice broken-sounding but muffled, as his face was still in his hands. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Nathan, who'd reached out across the table when Alison had, squeezed her hand tightly, even as he focused on sending as much reassurance as he could down the four-way link. Anika was right on the verge of snapping, he could sense that much, and Mick was on the brink of one of those downward spirals he himself knew all too well. Alison was focusing on vocalizing her thoughts, at least, and Tim... the sense of helpless anger and guilt from Tim's direction was all too familiar.

And MacInnis sat there, not answering, his expression neutral. Apart from them all, still.

His own head was spinning, but certain things were nevertheless very clear. "It doesn't matter," Nathan said, almost under his breath. "Because they won't be doing it for much longer." Tim looked up at him abruptly, his eyes suspiciously damp, and Nathan met that anguished gaze as steadily as he could. #My turn to tell you not to blame yourself?# he asked.

"No, they won't." Still holding on to Nathan's hand, Alison shook her head once, sharply. Her throughts crystallized, veering away towards something she could do. Plan. "They can't try and wipe out everyone who knows, now. It's gotten too big and spread out over too many people, too many of them official. It's not about one small group of escapees anymore. Though maybe they haven't realized that just yet. They've only had to deal with a few raids from the goverment, so far, have gotten away with it for so long..." And if MacInnis was still stuck in a rut in how he thought after having been gone from Mistra all this time, how much hubris still stained the judgement of the directors still in place?

Purpose and determination were two wonderful feelings and Alison had no objection to letting those take over everything else that was simmering in the back of her mind. And if it swarmed up through the link and colored things a little for the others too, well, that wasn't entirely a bad thing now, was it? It wasn't a bad thing at all, in fact, and she suspected Nathan would agree even as she built on it, the resolve that had always been there surging up to the surface and hopefully carrying through clearly, along with something else - the simple faith that the people she could still feel through the link would be able to see things through.

"Look at them," she murmured, still focusing on MacInnis. "Look." See, feel, understand she wanted to tell him. But instead she just straightened her spine a bit, waiting.

MacInnis didn't answer for a long moment. "I can't," he said, his voice very slightly hoarse, and he didn't need to explain that it wasn't simply looking at them that he couldn't do. "But let's sort out what needs sorting, in terms of details, here. That I can do."


Afterwards, there's definite regrouping going on, and Cain invites the four ex-Mistra operatives over to what's left of the boathouse for a beer. In the process, he makes a very interesting offer.


"Are we absolutely sure that we can't kill him?"

Nathan raised an eyebrow at Anika, who was sprawled on her back on the living room floor, staring up at the ceiling and still looking rather peevish. "Absolutely," he confirmed, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"That's very sad."

Mick snorted softly from where he was slouched beside Tim on the couch. "Ani, enough..."

"Hey, let her fantasize," Tim said a bit dourly. He was still looking more than a little shell-shocked; a few of MacInnis' revelations had hit him particularly hard, Nathan knew. "God knows I'm doing it."

A quick knock on the door, and Cain stuck his head inside. "Nate?" he called, "Moira's down in the lab so I thought I'd grab you for some – oh, hey. You've got company." Inviting himself in, he looked slowly around the room, giving Mick a brief nod, Tim a cautious look, and then slid into a chair looking down at Anika. "Hello there," he said with a smile that was fractions of an inch away from an outright leer. "I'm Cain."

Ani's expression went from annoyed to cheerful in a flash. Although she didn't get off the floor. "Hi, Cain. I'm Ani. Didn't you used to be bigger?"

Nathan covered his face with one hand, snickering helplessly.

Cain smiled broadly, looking up at the sudden death glare that Mick was sending in his direction. Putting two and two together, he laughed. "I remember now. I was bigger, you were single. Ah, good times. So," he asked, looking around the room, "since Chuck's in the parlor talking to the old guy who looks like ten miles of bad road, and he just pulled out the tea which means they'll be there for hours, you guys all look like you're in desperate need of a beer."

"That sounds like a brilliant idea," Tim said dryly. "Only we can't let Nate have any. He gets drunk on the smell of alcohol these days, after all..."

Nathan scoffed at him, hauling himself up out of his chair. "Watch your mouth, junior," he said. Mick got up and went over to give Ani a hand up; she immediately scooted under his arm, her cheerful look lingering yet her eyes still a little shadowed. "Wish I could be a fly on that parlor wall," Nathan muttered.

"The beer is probably a better idea," Mick pointed out.

Cain smiled, then started to piece things together in his brain. He pointed at Tim suddenly. "You're Morgan. And if you're here, with them," he indicated Mick and Ani, "then that fossil downstairs..."

He snapped his head over to Nathan, narrowing his eyes. "Does Alison know he's here? And if so, why ain't she lasered him a new asshole yet?"

"Alison sat in on our meeting," Nathan said dryly. "There was no lasering. She did punch him, though."

"It was just so much fun to watch," Tim said, putting on a faux-dreamy expression. "Had me wanting to try it myself. Of course, if I did and accidentally switched on my exoskeleton and smashed his skull, that would be bad..."

"Says you," Ani commented, looking as if she rather liked the mental image. Mick just rolled his eyes.

With a snort, Cain pointed over to Anika and nodded to Nate. "I like her. Can we keep her?" After another glare from Foley, he held up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I get the picture. So - I've got a case of the good stuff out in the boathouse to supply the construction crew - which is me - and the patio's all re-decked. If you guys don't mind a bit of the cold out there, that is."

"Fresh air would be just as good an idea as the beer, I think," Nathan commented, gesturing for the others to follow Cain out. "Back way out? So we're not tempted by the parlour?"

"Ehh," Ani said irritably, shrugging her shoulders irritably, although she didn't let go of Mick. "I don't want anything more to do with the old rat bastard right now anyway. Especially not since we're going to be seeing him day-in, day-in. A MacInnis break for at least the rest of the day would be a wonderful thing."

"Having second thoughts?" Tim jabbed.

"I had third and fourth thoughts before I got on the plane to come here, asshole," Ani growled, although her eyes brightened and the look she gave Tim was more affectionate than anything else.

"Children, children," Cain chided, "Am I going to have to separate you or make you hold hands while we walk? Let's play nice and not irritate the old man who can throw you into the lake." He grinned playfully at the group, then heaved himself up out of the chair. "Can't say how good it feels to do that again..." he breathed quietly.

Nathan, closing the suite door behind him as they headed out, gave Cain a knowing grin. "You do realize you're disturbing people. You're being so... social."

Pausing briefly, Cain sobered up for a moment. "I still ain't used to this, Nate. Thought I was gonna be there crippled in that bed for the rest of my life. Having people come 'round to take care of me, being pretty much useless. Now," he grinned, "that whole lesson about second chances is really hittin' home. You, your people here," he jerked his head up the hall at the three Mistra operatives, "you know what that's like."

Nathan glanced back at the other three, his smile softening a bit. "Yeah. We do." He looked up at Cain, striving for a cheerful tone. "Then you get the fun of deciding what you do with the second chance..."

"This is fun?" Mick said, a touch of wry amusement in his voice. "Is that what you call it?" He yelped a little as Ani poked him firmly in the ribs. "What?"

"You're doing fine," she told him. "Don't backslide."

"You know," Tim confided to her as they headed downstairs, "when I thought you were dead, Ani, I remembered you as being a lot less... bossy, for some reason."

"You know," Cain said, falling backwards into step with the other three and draping his arm across both Mick and Anika's shoulders, "they thought I was dead once. You should've seen Chuck's face when I showed up. Priceless."

Anika actually giggled. "Fun! Yes! You can never hear 'But I thought you were DEAD!' often enough, as far as I'm concerned." She divided a merry, taunting look equally between Mick and Tim. "Especially when it snaps certain people out of their respective funks."

"Just call her my secret weapon," Nathan murmured, amused, as they reached the ground floor.

---

Minutes later, there were five deck chairs arranged in a circle on the boathouse patio, a cooler of beer in the center and everyone politely ignoring the blue tarpaulins covering the back side of the house.

"So there he is," Cain was chuckling, "trying to explain why white fuzzy slippers are 'oh-so-tactical', and NONE of us are buying it one bit. You should have seen the look on his face."

Nathan figured he was roughly the color of Moira's hair, or thereabouts. But he couldn't help grinning, even as he mock-glared at Cain. "And I told you, Moira bought them for me. So don't knock the slippers."

Tim was shaking his head. "Nate," he said, snickering, "you're getting... domesticated. I'm so disappointed in you."

"I think it's sweet!" Anika said mischievously, sprawled sideways in her chair.

"You should see the two of them," Cain drawled, draining another can and crushing it in his fist. He had accumulated an impressive collection of inch-cubed aluminum lumps on the deck next to his chair by now. "Did he tell you guys she's making him wear a skirt for the wedding?"

"It's called a kilt, Cain, damn it..."

"I got the impression that he was pretty whipped, yes," Tim said dryly, still obviously trying to hold back laughter. "And hell, I was only here for a few days." Mick opened his mouth to say something, and Tim shook his head at him. "And don't you start. You're just as bad."

"Just you wait," Ani told him, an evil glint in her eye. "Dom has plans for you, you big grouch..."

Cain coughed at that, wiping beer off his chin. "And I thought the kids here were insular. Jesus, is Nate the only one of you guys who learned to fish outside the pond?" He turned to Tim with a conspiratorial leer. "Although, from what I hear, that young lady 'having plans' usually means someone ain't walking the next day, know what I mean?"

At everyone's peal of laughter, Cain leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Shit," he drawled, "you guys are all right, you know that? Nate here used to whine like a depressed teenager about being nothing but a weapon, or if he was doing something right with his life. But this? Hell, you guys are good people." He raised a beer in an impromptu toast. "Y'been through shit, and come out shining. Takes a certain kinda person to do that."

"It helps that there's the four of us now," Mick volunteered unexpectedly. "Having just one of us on the outside--" His gaze lingered for a moment on Nathan. "--was like... chance, or an accident. With more of us, it's real."

"Well, that and the fact that we're not running anymore," Nathan pointed out quietly, and exchanged a quick, knowing look with Anika. "Any of us."

Cain nodded. "I hear that. Lot to be said... for..." A look of realization swept over his features as everything started to click. "You guys could do it. Hell, Nate by himself took out a small army up in Canada. The four of you? You could bring the whole thing crashing down. The whole damn thing."

"We could maybe do it on our own," Nathan said, thinking about the Trojan Horse, "but we've got a much better chance of doing it with a lower casualty rate among the other operatives and the kids in training if we work with the taskforce and MacInnis' people and the X-Men."

"Control and containment," Tim said, his smile fading and his expression hardening. "We can't let any of the fucking directors find a back door out, most importantly. We need to back them into a corner and take them all down at once."

"I wish we knew what state the others who were up in Canada are in now," Mick murmured, taking a sip of his beer. "Nash and Matsuda and Piers... if we could get them and a few of the others out and working with us..."

Cain slowly drank his beer, pondering. He sat the empty can down carefully, leaning forward over his knees. "You know," he said quietly, "I've seen what Nate can do. And I read about what you," he nodded at Tim, "and him did when you butted heads a month ago. What I'm wondering... you get a whole bunch of you people in one spot - that's gonna make an atom bomb look like a goddamn firecracker."

"That's the problem," Tim said, almost wearily. "There are four of us here, right? And we're actually pretty damned representative. Mistra doesn't just have people who can level whole city blocks, or people who are near-impossible to put down hand-to-hand. It has both, and people who are both." He sighed. "Half a dozen of the other operatives who were with me in Canada could take on any of the four of us and bookies would be laying even money on who'd fall first. There are still almost twenty combat-capable first-gens, and better than fifty second-gens, and you probably saw what five of them did to Columbia."

"Sounds like you could use some extra muscle, then." Cain belched into his fist, crushing another can into a quarter-sized lump. "X-Men, whoever. But hell, someone's got to help make sure this dumb bastard," he flicked one of the crushed cans towards Nathan, "comes home in one piece, or his fiancee's going to kill me. I'm in."

Nathan blinked, opened his mouth - then closed it again, still blinking as his mind mulled over the possibilities of Cain being 'in'. "That... opens up some options." And that was putting it mildly.

Anika was beaming at Cain, almost bouncing in her seat. "Is this where I say the more the merrier? Because I've always liked saying that." Mick was laughing helplessly at her, and she grinned at him.

Tim gave Cain a speculative look, and then a somewhat uncertain smile. "Thanks." He shrugged a little, taking a sip of his beer. "Maybe it's because it's only been a month, but I'm still having trouble wrapping my mind around the idea of people wanting to get involved in this..."

"You get used to it," Nathan assured him quietly, a subdued grin growing on his face as he turned back to Cain. "You do realize that we don't know precisely what you just opted into, just yet... I think we probably will soon, though." He inclined his head at Tim. "Between Tim using MacInnis' people to make a nuisance of himself, and what the taskforce is doing..."

"Don't forget what the X-Men did up in Canada," Tim said seriously. "MacInnis claims that shook up the directorship something fierce."

Cain shrugged and looked at the four of them, then pointedly at Nathan. "Straight up, I'd do it because I owe you one. You busted your brain saving my life, it's the least I can do. But besides that - deciding what to do with the second chance, right? Consider it an early wedding present." He cracked his knuckles and leaned back. "Besides, extra body means one person to catch a bullet instead of one of you."

"Bullets, energy blasts," Anika said cheerfully. "Although I'm good. Healing factor and all..."

"Yeah," Mick said, "which I'd rather not see you testing anytime soon." The two of them locked eyes, Anika's grin answered by a more subdued smile from Mick. Within moments, they had the whole 'we're the only two people in the world' thing going on quite nicely, Nathan reflected with fond amusement.

Tim muttered something under his breath and slouched in his chair. "I have the sudden and disturbing need to throw up - would the two of you quit that?"

"You so need to get laid," Ani informed him blithely, not looking away from Mick.