Part 13 (2/2)

Great. Now what do I say? What on earth did you say when the man you loved came back after being tortured and wasn't ... the same? How could anything ever be the same again?

”Not worth it,” she said lightly, her boot heels clicking as they went down a long hall with windows on one side and thick golden sunlight falling in dusty rectangles on the wooden floor. Her wrist throbbed faintly, and the bruise was yellow-green and fading, looking weeks instead of days old. ”You'd probably get change back.”

”Still, I'd like to know. Humor me.”

She could tell his eyes were on her back. ”You are different,” she said, taking a gulp of coffee immediately after. It scalded her mouth.

”Better or worse?” There it was, that ironic amus.e.m.e.nt. At least, she was fairly sure it was amus.e.m.e.nt.

She felt it like warm sun against her shoulders.

”Just different.”

”Distant?”

d.a.m.n the man, he's teasing me. She shot a look back over her shoulder, saw him smiling and stopped short. He almost ran into her, but gracefully avoided collision at the last second. ”Kind of,” she admitted.

He never used to smile like that. Maybe once or twice. He was just learning to loosen up a little when Headquarters ... happened. ”But there's something else. I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out.”

”Just relieved to be back, I guess.””What did they do to you?” Torture? More electroshock? The track marks on his arms were healing, of course. Any wound in her proximity tended to heal faster. He wasn't sweating or shaking like a lot of Zed addicts did, though she could feel the p.r.i.c.kling running over his skin, a different sensation than the electric crackle she felt when she touched him. It was hard to keep herself so carefully contained, to keep from soaking into the borders of his mind to find out what he was really thinking under that slight smile and behind those hungry eyes that were really just as effective at keeping his feelings hidden as the flat indifference he used to use.

”Nothing I couldn't handle,” he said, again. ”We'd better get up to Henderson before the food gets cold.”

Her head flared with pain again, a brief tearing that was gone almost as soon as it started. Distracted, Rowan blinked, shook her head. ”Oh. Right.”

Henderson was in the west wing nerve center, leaning over Yos.h.i.+, whose slim brown fingers tapped at a keyboard. They'd apparently set up a full system of decks. Code was flas.h.i.+ng across a monitor right in front of Yos.h.i.+.

”Mark,” Yos.h.i.+ said quietly into the comm-unit he wore. ”Move to your right, there's a dead spot in front of you.”

Sounds like an operation. Rowan's mouth went dry. She took another hurried gulp of coffee, scalding her tongue again.

Henderson glanced over and nodded. He'd be with them in a moment. Rowan cast a glance around, found a table covered with topo maps, and cleared a s.p.a.ce for both of them. She settled down, watching.

”Heavy fire on your nine, watch out, on your nine.” Yos.h.i.+ sounded calm, as always, but Rowan's heart flipped over. Who was out, and where were they? ”Ca.s.sie, see if you can give him a little cover. Rick, stay down. Ca.s.sie's coming in.”

Rick and Ca.s.sie. Deborah's team. They must be coming in from California. Rowan caught a flare of complex feeling from Yos.h.i.+ and swallowed dryly. He'd been hanging out a lot with Deborah, teaching her codestringing tricks.

Rowan was about to push her chair back and hover over him, seeking to help, but Justin's hand covered her bruised wrist. ”Eat first,” he said. ”Won't do anyone any good if you collapse. Come on, Ro.”

So she sat and listened through the mission gone critical, barely tasting the food as Deborah reported being pinned under heavy fire with Sigs everywhere and half her team wounded. She didn't sound happy, but neither did she sound panicked.

”Just sit tight, Deb,” Yos.h.i.+ murmured. ”They're on the way.” Then, he said, ”Cath, you read me? They're pinned.”

Cath's out there? Oh, G.o.d. Rowan listened, mechanically eating and marking off the intervals as Yos.h.i.+ spoke calmly, only his almost-blurring fingers showing the strain he was under. Rowan kept taking deep, even breaths, the tender places inside her head twinging a little as she fought the urge to help. There was nothing she could do. Yosh was perfectly calm and Henderson didn't need her. She could help best by staying out of the way. Cath's out there. Be careful, honey. I hope Zeke's with her. And Brew.

”Steady, steady ... Here they come. Stay down. They're coming in fast. There.” Yosh sounded relieved.

”Get everyone aboard. Don't worry about the Sigs, Deb, that's Brew's job. Yessir, I'm working on it.”His fingers danced. ”Nasty little b.u.g.g.e.rs, aren't they.”

He glanced up at Henderson and nodded. The older man straightened, light glinting off his steel-rimmed gla.s.ses.

”Thank G.o.d.” Henderson's mouth shaped the words. He rubbed briefly at the back of his neck and glanced at Rowan and Justin.

Rowan found, much to her surprise, that she'd eaten three-quarters of her food. Her coffee had cooled down, too. She finished it in two long swallows. Welcome caffeine began to make its way through her bloodstream. ”Hey,” she said as Henderson approached, his boots clicking on the floor. ”What can I do?”

”Not a d.a.m.n thing.” Henderson stretched and rolled his shoulders. The long-sleeved s.h.i.+rt he wore clung to him, and his Glock rode in a shoulder holster over it. He wore jeans, but he was barefoot. His dark hair with the white streak was rumpled and ruffled. ”They'll be fine. Cath and Brew will bring 'em all in.

Yos.h.i.+ will be glad to see Deb again.”

For some reason, Henderson glanced at Justin, who had finished his food and was staring into his coffee cup. ”A Sig net in Cincinnati and some heavy fire. They just s.n.a.t.c.hed a new telepath right from under Sigma's nose. How you doing, Del?”

”Better than I've been in a long while,” Justin replied. ”Hear you've drained the resource net. Any complications?”

”Nope. G.o.dd.a.m.n good to have you back. Rowan, I have some printouts I want you to look over, and I wanted to ask you something.” Henderson pulled out the third chair at the table and glanced over his shoulder at Yos.h.i.+, whose tension had begun to stain the air now that the crisis was over. Yos.h.i.+ stretched and went back to tapping at his keyboard.

”Sure.” What on earth would you want to ask me? Justin's back. Rowan smiled at the thought. He's back, we're at Headquarters, and we're safe. I never thought I'd see that again. Her head twinged, the bursts of pain getting less frequent. This one wasn't so bad. She sighed in relief. ”How are you feeling, General?”

He granted her a tight smile. ”Screwed six ways from Sunday, girl. Glad we didn't lose you.”

Give in. Give in. Give in to me, let me IN. Memory rose, a vise clamping around her temples, something working in, burrowing. The pain tore at her. She was still tender inside her head, bruised from the blind man's attack. Rowan shuddered, came back to herself with a jolt. ”I'm glad too.”

”Was it Carson? What's his status?” He looked at Justin, his steely eyes glinting, and Rowan was suddenly, utterly, relieved that Justin was back. Being Henderson's second was more stress than she needed, mostly because she was always afraid of s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up and costing someone their life. Thankfully, it hadn't happened yet-unless she counted everyone at the old Headquarters.

And Justin.

”I hope he's dead.” Justin leaned back in his chair. He looked better, his eyes bright and his mouth curling up in a familiar half-smile. He moved easily inside his rig, as if glad to have its familiar weight on his shoulders. He hadn't looked right this morning without a couple of guns hanging on him. Rowan supposed it was habit. She touched the b.u.t.t of her own Glock, a familiar weight under her left arm.

Henderson reached over for a carafe almost buried under the topos and poured them both fresh coffee.”You need sugar, Ro?” She shook her head no, and he turned his attention to Justin. ”You hope he's dead?”

”I hit him with everything I had and sank a knife in his throat, boss. If he's still breathing it's not for lack of effort on my part.”

Oh, G.o.d, I hope he's dead, too. Rowan wrapped her fingers around the coffee cup. ”Should I go and-”

”No, I need you here. What's your estimation of Carson's status?”

Give in. Give in. Give in to me, let me IN. She shuddered again. Why did it have to sound as if he was still whispering in her head, the squirming maggot-voice tender and waxen-white?

”Creepy.” Her voice threatened to break. Tears rose behind her eyes. ”Filthy. Very, very bad.”

Justin made a small sound, his knee b.u.mping hers under the table. Henderson ran his hands back through his hair. She blinked. Why was it so hard to concentrate? She must be more tired than she'd thought.

”What?”

”Do you think he survived?” Henderson persisted.

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