None of them ever cared enough about any of them.
She couldn’t stop her knees from hitting the floor, her arms wrapped around the punching bag.
None of them would ever know or care that she was as much a victim as the ones she killed. The only thing she had on everyone else was that she survived - and would continue to survive.
She didn’t know how long she knelt there, crying into the bag. Someone must have found her, since a hand touched her shoulder. She nearly jumped, realizing she hadn’t been paying any attention. She should have known, heard him, something.
But large arms just wrapped around her and pulled her up. “I knew I would find you like this. What is it, little lady?” he asked softly.
She buried her face to his chest, grabbing on to his shirt. “I failed,” she answered. “They condemn me for everything I ever did, and they don’t even know I failed. They don’t know Henry is dead because of me. Because I wasn’t good enough. He’s fucking gone and all they care about is the surface. They have no idea. They have no idea how much it fucking hurts.”
He held her tightly to him, rocking slightly. “I have you. I understand. Just let it out.”
“Not going to give me away this time?” she asked softly, her hands shaking. She remembered how he’d passed her off to Vincent the last time she found herself in the dark.
“No, not this time,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
She leaned into him and cried. December was going to find every reason to remind her of Henry. It was always going to go back to him. It was going to eat away at her until she was nearly insane - then the month would be over. This was her life.
Even as she cried, she was glad these men did understand. They did know. It was like they were torches in her darkness. They were pointing the way out, offering her warmth on the trip.
“I’ve got you. We’ve all got you, little lady,” he whispered again.
He sat them down and she practically crawled into his lap. She hated to be vulnerable, but not even Charlie had offered her this. This physical comfort that made her feel like it wasn’t so lonely. She couldn’t resist accepting it and using it to its fullest extent.
As the tears faded, she just stared at his chest. “Is it ever like this for you?” she asked quietly.
“On the day,” he answered. “I drink pretty hard on the day. Grief is funny, though, isn’t it? It drives us to act out of character and expose our deepest fears.”
“Yeah,” she mumbled. “I get it, Elijah. Why you were so uncomfortable with talking to me about…us. It took me a long time to warm up to the kids, truthfully warm up to them, since I always worried they might…”
Die like he did.
He didn’t say anything, just pulled her tighter to him, kissing her forehead. She tried to push away, feeling better. She even tried for a weak smile, but it ended with a wince as pain shot from her hand.
“Fuck,” she snapped, looking at her right hand. Sure enough, the knuckles were bruised and she poked one. “I think I fractured it.”
“Let’s go find Zander,” he ordered, standing up and taking her with him. He didn’t carry her, like he had the other day, only supported her as she steadied on her feet. “You need to be more careful.”
“I’ll try,” she promised.
“Liar. You’re going to do this again more than once before the end of the month, I can already feel it.”
“You don’t have to comfort me, Elijah.” She didn’t want to burden them. This was her shit, her issues. They just got worse for a little while, and when January came along, she would feel nearly like a new person. It happened that way every year.
“No, I don’t,” he agreed. “But I’m going to. So are the guys. Ain’t no reason for you to be doing this on your own. Depression is a dangerous thing. I’m not going to leave you alone with it. Neither are they.”
“I hate being like this. Every year, I hope it’ll get easier, and it doesn’t. It makes me feel…weak. Out of control.”
“There’s nothing weak about a heart that loved enough to grieve so deeply.” He turned and began walking away. She just let those words sink in before walking after him. He stopped at the stairs and grinned at her. “And they’ll never know just how strong you are, and that’s their loss. Remember what I said in the truck: the IMPO and the WMC don’t matter. The world doesn’t matter. They don’t know you. They don’t know how big your heart is, or how much you love to give it away. They don’t know that, yeah, you are capable of awful things, but damn, you always have the best intentions.”
“The way to hell is paved in good intentions,” she reminded him.
“Then we’ll go to hell,” he retorted, grinning. “Remember, little lady, you aren’t the only one who’s resorted to extreme violence over harm done to someone you care about. I don’t regret it. Stop forgetting that.”
“Fuck. This speech again.”
“It’s one thing to grieve the loss of someone you loved, but don’t fall back into that spiral of self loathing, please.”
“Okay, I promise.” She held up her hands in defeat.
“Good. I was getting worried for a moment.”
She swatted his shoulder and then cursed several times as the pain flared back up. He was chuckling as they climbed the stairs to find the healer.
As he left her with Zander, she watched him go. He didn’t know that every time he opened his mouth, he took a little piece of her heart. Damn cowboy.
11
James
“I don’t know what to say, sir. They’ve become friends with her. It’s apparent, and I think we all knew it was going to happen.”
James finished his speech to the Director and waited. This was the third time they’d had this conversation in the same number of days. Surely this wasn’t surprising. The team had always had each other’s backs and refused to let any of them get shafted for the good of the others. The Amazon was the clearest example, and it included Sawyer. She was part of the team now, and she was trusted enough by the guys that she was a decision-maker.
“James, if any of them are romantically involved with her, I’m putting them all in handcuffs,” the Director whispered. It was a threat that held weight. He could and would have them all taken down if there was anything being hidden. He was so angry he’d have a young team in chains for this.
He was lucky that their Director couldn’t read minds. That would have made this meeting much more difficult.
“I don’t think that’s it. Thompson, you know how teams are. They choose each other and then stick by that choice. They are trained to completely trust each other, to rely on each other’s strengths and weakness, to make a cohesive unit that can do anything. They’re our version of special forces.” James groaned, leaning back in the seat. “You know that.”
“Are you positive nothing is going on?” he demanded, glaring over the paperwork on his desk. “If you lie to me to protect those kids, I’ll have you in handcuffs too.”
“Even if she was sleeping with them, there’s nothing you can arrest them for and you know it. It would be a show to appease the masses, completely unjust and a bastardization of what we stand for.” James narrowed his eyes at the Director. “Don’t walk down the route of using the power you have to make others bend to your will unnecessarily.”
“Why shouldn’t I? No one is going to stop me.”
“Because we worked so hard to get you behind that desk because the last guy abused his power,” he reminded Thompson. They were older men now, having been through too much for this organization and the idea of justice. He would hate to see Thompson throw away everything they believed in now.
“You’ve got me there. I’m sorry. The WMC is…furious, though, James. They want me to pull the entire group of them up to New York for questioning, or send someone down to have them watched. Is it my sin to abuse my power if I’m dictated to by a superior?” The question held a raw honesty and some despair, even some defeat. James could feel it. Empat
hy was handy in situations like this one, as he tried to judge the mood of his old friend.
“You can just point to the code and hold to it. Thompson, we’ve been friends since Academy. We were teammates for over a decade. You’ve never wanted to be in power to abuse it. We wanted to fix this organization. Don’t let some hot-button topics ruin that for you. And it will.” He took a deep breath, glad that he and the Director were more relaxed now. “They will tell you to do something corrupt, something without justification, then later hang you with it. You know that.”
“Thanks for the reminder. And you’re right. I’m pissed off that they got outed, but it isn’t their fault.” Thompson tapped a finger on his desk slowly, looking down at the papers he was tapping. James could feel the anger, certainly, but he could also feel the worry. “How did we find ourselves here? It was always supposed to be you behind this desk and me dealing with teams and doing grunt work.”
He grinned and shrugged. “I didn’t want it. You know that. I know this is when shit gets hard, but we’ve got this.”
“I hope we do, for them,” Thompson mumbled.
James stood up slowly, unwilling to respond to that. It wasn’t the kids that Thompson was mentioning.
Once they had been on a team of seven men, men who had met in the Academy and were all screwed, one way or another. James and Thompson were all that was left.
He began to walk quietly out of the room, unwilling to sit in the depression that was beginning to cloud the room.
“Tell me which one of them is in love with her,” Thompson demanded before he was able to get out. “I know one of them is. There’s got to be one.”
“Thompson, we’ve been friends for a long time, but unless something is pertinent to an investigation or Magi security, I won’t violate what any of those kids tell me in confidence. You know that.” James smiled wearily back at the Director. “And it doesn’t matter if any of them are in love with her. Have you met her?”
Thompson began to chuckle, nodding. James knew they’d met, and knew what was said. Even though the kids never told him exactly what happened, the Director had told him over a brandy, laughing.
“She’s feisty, that’s for sure. Arrogant as sin. She’s fallen right in with them. You consider her a member of that team now, don’t you?”
“Don’t you? Look at what happened in October, Thompson. They would die for each other, and considering who we’re talking about, that’s something to take seriously. It doesn’t matter if any of them are romantically involved with her - she’s one of them, no matter what. She isn’t their charge, someone for them to watch, she’s their family, their friend.”
“Good point,” the Director mumbled, nodding. “You can go. Call them and see how they are. This surely hasn’t been easy on them. Also, send her my condolences. I think in the madhouse around here, no one has made sure she’s okay.”
“You’re talking about Henry,” James whispered, feeling a sense of sadness fill him, both his own and Thompson’s.
“He died in December. You said that the incident with Elijah was about them trying to keep her mind off a personal loss. We, as an organization, need to also be mindful of the emotional needs of our more vulnerable members. We put them through hell, so it’s good to let them know that we understand what toll that takes.” Thompson sighed, pouring himself a drink at his desk. “Please pass that on? It would also show them that I am on her side.”
“But are you, Thompson?” He had to ask. There were few things he and the Director had ever argued about. They all had to do with Axel, Vincent, and Sawyer. James wasn’t going to lie to the team that trusted him about the Director’s feelings about them.
“They’re basically your children; I should have known. Yes, I’m on their side. Other than PR problems, they’ve given me no reason to disband them yet. I didn’t appreciate the Councilwoman’s involvement last time, and I made sure she knew it then too.”
James didn’t respond, leaving as quickly as possible when Thompson was done. He’d hoped to get out of there earlier. The longer he had to sit in that office, the longer he had to keep lying to an old friend and evading giving more than he should.
Three days since Sawyer’s face had been blasted on the news all over the world, and nothing was looking up for the IMPO or the WMC. James was fielding requests for the team to make a public appearance, and if he didn’t know what he did, he would have signed them up for it. It would look good. Young successful agents talking about reform, bringing in the worst of their culture to help better themselves and their world. Sawyer, looking nice, and repentant, telling her story for the world to see. It would start a movement to support her, since he knew many would be sympathetic to her story. Hell, he was.
But he couldn’t put them there anymore. Not when he knew that they were all fucking her.
All of them. He could only imagine Thompson’s face if he’d said that. While the idea was humorous, it would also lead to one of the biggest controversies in the IMPO. It would be a disaster.
He couldn’t wrap his head around it himself. The idea of her being with all five of them. What were they doing? Having orgies? It didn’t make a damn lick of sense to him, and didn’t fit the people on the team. Jasper? No, he would never. Elijah, certainly, but Vincent? He’d be a tough sell, certainly.
James was missing something about it, that was certain, but he also wasn’t really in the mood to call Vincent up and ask for an explanation.
What really bothered him was that he could see it. The way they defended her to the bitter end, the way they looked at her, and the way she relied on them. The way she was so willing to throw herself and the rest of them into a jungle hell, just for them to stay a team, a unit.
He just didn’t understand it.
“Damn it,” he snapped, slamming his finger on a button when he got into the elevator. He was going home. He’d barely slept for days now. The damned team had no idea the hell they put him through when they were just doing whatever they wanted. He could relate, in some ways. He’d been there once, on a team that could get away with nearly everything. Special Agents, and the teams they were on, could commit murder and claim it had something to do with a case, and the IMPO would turn a blind eye. The handler would be the one who got the ass-chewing. It was funny when he was an agent. It wasn’t funny now that he was a handler.
He realized, as he got off the elevator, that he couldn’t go home. He had damage control to do, and while he couldn’t put Sawyer on display, he knew someone who would jump at the chance to talk about how good she was, how she felt morally obligated to redeem herself.
He focused on that, considering how the press conference would go down. Or maybe just a single interview. She would be furious, but he could protect Charlie if there was blowback. That was the easy part.
He was in front of the gym, staring at the front door for a long time, considering this. He wouldn’t ask any of the kids, or even the older boy, Liam. They were non-Magi and wouldn’t be very helpful. Magi would say that they didn’t understand just how scary Shadow had been at the height of her reign of dark terror as Axel’s blade. But Charlie was a Magi, a respected one a long time ago, before his wife passed away. A healer of impressive skill who also turned around and became a doctor, using both skills to help those in the most need.
He walked into the gym, hoping this would help save the reputation of the IMPO and his team.
“Mister James!”
He held back a groan and turned to see Liam coming out of one of the side rooms. Talk about hero worship. Liam was one that James definitely couldn’t put on the news. It would be a nightmare. The kid was probably losing his mind over what was going on.
“Hey, son. Where’s Charlie?”
“Are you here to tell him about Sawyer being all over the news? We kind of saw that already. What happened? Who did that to her? They’re eating her alive, too. Are you going to do anything about that? Can I help?”
“Hold on, young man.” James
held up a hand, sighing. “First, we’re working on it. We did catch the agent in the IMPO who took the photos and information to the press. Second, you can’t help. This needs to be handled carefully, and we’re still exploring options about how to make this go in her favor. In the end, the press can talk all they want, and her situation won’t change with the IMPO or the WMC; she’ll just be watched more, as people will want her to screw up. Now, where’s Charlie?”
“He’s up in his office,” Liam answered, pointing to the back. “You know how to get there.”
“Thank you for not pressing for more information.” James respected that. Normally, the college student was all over him for the entire visit.
“This is the first time you haven’t cracked a joke as soon as you walked in the door.” Liam shrugged, turning away. “I need to finish this class.”
He would have to remember that Liam was so perceptive. He could only wonder who the boy had picked that up from. James watched him close himself back into the room before moving to find Charlie. Good kid, even if too exuberant for what was needed.
He knocked once on Charlie’s door and then walked in, phasing through the door.
“Well, I should be surprised, but I’ve been waiting on you,” Charlie declared, looking up from his book. “You want me to say something to the press.”
“I want you to tell the story of having Sawyer here in your gym and what it’s done for kids all over this city. Describe the woman you knew. I think it might help her.”
“She’ll hate you for asking me, and she’ll hate me for saying anything to the press.” Charlie didn’t move, his nose going back into the book in front of him. “And if you’re thinking to have Doctor Charles Malcolm back out there, acting like a hero, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“No, I’m asking Charlie, the owner of this little gym in the Bronx, to go out there. A broken soul that could understand another broken soul. She healed you just as much, I think, as you healed her. Last I heard, until we found Sawyer with you, you’d stopped using magic completely. You pretended to be a non-Magi. Yet you were fixing her up after every job, weren’t you? Every bruise and scrape those kids get - the strays, you call them. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” James smiled down at Charlie, then sat down on the other side of the desk from him.
The Redemption Saga Box Set Page 112