fic: (AV) You Can't Keep the Bad Days

[astro_noms]

Title: You Can't Keep the Bad Days
Wordcount: 12,255
Rating: Mature
Warnings: angst, bad decisions, drunkenness, ill-advised deal making
Pairings: Titus/Oliver, Titus/others

Summary: Titus loves his notboyfriend, and he wants him safe from the brainsplicing. And he'll do anything to make that happen.

Author's Notes: Title and cut text from Muse's "The Small Print."



"Casey!" Major Butler clapped a hand on Titus' shoulder. "You're overdue for some leave. Take forty-eight hours, get off the base."

"Oliver's scheduled for more surgery tomorrow. I'd rather stay here, sir," Titus shook his head.

"This is not a suggestion, Mister Casey. If you're still on base an hour from now, I'm going to get the MPs to throw you out the main gate. And I might tell them not to let you back."

Titus forced himself not to argue with the major. The man had always been sympathetic to Titus' concern for Oliver, and Titus didn't want to jeopardize the relationship they had. He nodded instead. "Forty-eight hours?"

"That's right. Go into town, check into a nice hotel. I recommend the Random. Go see a movie, have a few drinks. Enjoy yourself."

"When is Oliver going to get his leave?" The question slipped out before Titus could stop himself. He looked up to see Butler frown.

"Let me give you some advice, son," the major leaned in closer and dropped his voice. "Be careful with that kind of talk. I know you two became close when you were recruiting him, but in this program, there's no room for friendships like yours."

"So what you're saying is I should just turn a blind eye to my best friend getting tortured?" Titus spat out the words, glaring up at Butler.

"I'm saying you might have to find a new best friend. In my experience, people like Oliver don't last long in this program."

"You make it sound like he's going to die," Titus scoffed and turned to leave, then looked back to Butler. "He's not going to to die, is he?"

"Probably not," Butler shook his head. "But certain changes are inevitable as the process continues. Personality changes are among the side effects we've observed. Some day, he'll stop being Oliver Hall, your best friend, and become Oliver Hall, Section Six operative."

And I'd still want him in my life, Titus thought. And there it was. There was nothing he could think of that would make him leave Oliver behind, and he was sure as hell not going to let him slip away, Section Six be damned.

Butler stared down at him and sighed. "Take your leave, son. He'll still be here when you get back."

Titus wanted to grab Butler by the shirtfront and make him promise. Instead, he turned and started to walk back to his room. Halfway there, one of the younger lab assistants flagged him down in the hallway.

"Are you Titus Casey?"

"Yeah?"

"Seventeen wants to see you."

"What?"

"She threw a fit, demanding to see you. Dr. Jenkins damn near blew a gasket when we couldn't calm her down." The kid was almost as short as Titus, and he stared at Titus pleadingly. "Please, man, you gotta come talk to her. Jenkins is going to have my head if I come back without you, or worse, he'll put me on Carl's team." Carl Jenkins, the doctor's son, was fast rising through the ranks of the medical personnel at the lab, and he was as enthusiastic about his work as his father, if not more. Unfortunately, his enthusiasm translated into mistreating his underlings and a complete lack of regard for his subjects beyond whether they were responding to their treatments as they should.

"Lead the way," Titus motioned the kid to go on. Seventeen's demand was unusual enough that it distracted him from his concerns over Oliver momentarily. He followed the kid through the inner labs to the glass doors leading into Jenkins' inner sanctum. The kid stopped at the doors and pushed them open for Titus.

"You're not coming with me?"

The kid shook his head, wringing his hands. "No, thanks. I've already had a dose of Jenkins' wrath today. This one's all yours, man."

Titus walked into the main lab. When the doors swung shut behind him, he paused, taking in the room. He'd been in the inner lab before, more than once, but it never failed to make an impression. With gleaming walls and high ceilings, it was like walking into a church, if there were churches full of computers and machinery and men with egos bigger than the room shouting at the people around him.

The elder Dr. Jenkins spotted Titus and walked towards him, his lab coat billowing out behind him like a cape.

"Casey! Where the hell have you been?"

"The guy you sent just found me. I came as soon as I could."

"I don't know what's going on, but you need to talk to her. She woke up this morning and just started calling your name. Did you say anything to her the last time you were here?"

"That was three weeks ago. And at the time, we didn't actually speak." Titus didn't remember much of the visit, it had been a fairly perfunctory scan of him and Oliver, to judge how well they were progressing. They'd been moved into proximity with Seventeen, told to empty their minds of distracting thoughts, and stand still. A few minutes later, they were let go.

"Well, whatever it is that's going on with her, I need you to go in there and try and talk to her. She won't let anyone near her, just keeps repeating your name." Jenkins pointed to the tank room, and Titus headed up the stairs.

When he opened the doors, he staggered back at the force of the mental compulsion that hit him. Every fiber of his being screamed get out, but he kept going until he was standing by the tank, looking down at Subject Seventeen. She thrashed in the tank, sending the thick liquid she was surrounded by splashing over the sides. Titus knelt beside the tank and reached out to touch her hand.

"Titus Casey, Titus Casey, TitusCasey, Tituscaseytituscaseytituscasey," she chanted, her body jerking as if she was being hit by electric shocks.

"I'm here," Titus said, touching her arm. Her eyes flew open and she moved with uncanny speed, grabbing his hand, latching on so hard it was almost painful.

"There is a way out, Titus Casey. The price is high, but if you are willing to pay it, there is a way out." Seventeen's words were slurred, and Titus leaned closer to hear her better. The girl used her grip on his hand to lever herself out of the water and grabbed onto his neck with her other hand. "What would you do," she whispered in his ear, the hissed words strangely distorted. "What would you do to keep him safe?" Titus tried pulling away from Seventeen, but her grip on him was unshakable. "There are those who can help you, Titus Casey, you just have to be willing to take the risk."

Titus started prying Seventeen's fingers off the back of his neck and pulling back when she let go. He overbalanced and fell backwards, slipping on the spilled liquid from the tank. He heard Seventeen splash back into the tank, and scrabbled to his feet to make sure she was all right. She came back to the surface of the tank, gasping for air, and stared at him curiously.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was back to normal, and she looked around the tank room in confusion. "Why are we in here alone? You're not supposed to be in here!"

"You asked for me," Titus told her. "Doctor Jenkins said you demanded to see me and wouldn't let anyone else near you."

She looked around, bewildered. "What did I tell you?"

"I don't know, it didn't really make sense," Titus shook his head. "Something about a way out and a high price?" Titus moved closer to the tank and leaned down to Seventeen. "Does that ring any bells?"

Just then, the doors to the tank room slid open a fraction and a nervous-looking lab tech poked his head in. Titus turned to look at him, and the tech took a couple of steps into the room. "Is it safe now?"

"I don't know," Titus said. He turned to Seventeen. "What do you say? Is it safe?" She stared up at him for a moment and then closed her eyes, sinking deeper into the tank. Titus looked back at the tech hovering by the door. "I'd say you could probably try," he said.

The tech retreated, and Titus leaned down over the tank again. Seventeen's eyes were closed and her face was a mask of serenity. He considered reaching out to her again, but before he could make up his mind, Jenkins' voice rang out in the tank room.

"Thank you, Mister Casey. That will be all. Please step outside for a debriefing."

"Debriefing?"

"We need to know what she said to you, Mister Casey. Subject Seventeen is far too big an investment of time and money, not to mention other resources, for us to let something like this just slide." Jenkins pointed to the door. "Just speak to Doctor Preston outside."

"All right," Titus got to his feet and started to walk towards the door. He paused to look over his shoulder at the tank, now surrounded by techs. "Is she going to be all right?"

"Don't worry about her, Mister Casey," Jenkins waved him off dismissively. "She'll be right as rain soon enough."

Titus headed out to the main lab and let Doctor Preston drag him off to the side. Preston showed him to a chair at the other end of the room, away from the main group of scientists.

"So how do we do this?"

"We have your conversation recorded, we just need to fill in some details. Did Seventeen's statement mean anything to you?"

"No," Titus shook his head. "I have no idea what she was talking about."

"Mister Casey, you understand the consequences if you're withholding anything?" Preston leaned close, his face inches away from Titus'. "You will be discharged from Section Six, arrested and imprisoned. You could be facing some very serious charges."

"I told you, I have no idea what she was talking about," Titus leaned forward closing the distance between them. Preston pulled back after a couple of seconds, and fidgeted nervously.

"That will be all, Mister Casey," he said. "Enjoy your leave."

Titus got up and walked to the exit. Everyone who wasn't in the tank room with Seventeen was watching him, and he forced himself to ignore them. Once he was out of the main lab, he let himself shudder, leaning against the wall.

"Casey! What are you still doing here?" Major Butler was glaring down at him, and Titus pushed away from the wall.

"I was on my way out, but Doctor Jenkins wanted to see me."

"What did he want?" Titus paused, not sure how much to tell Butler. The major caught his hesitation and shook his head. "Nevermind. If it's important, they'll tell me. Go on, get out of here."

Titus nodded and headed for his room to grab his overnight bag. He didn't want to go anywhere, but orders were orders, and he'd rather avoid getting thrown off base by the MPs. Major Butler would follow through on his threat, Titus had no doubt of that.

Oliver was in his room, his door open so that when Titus came into the suite they shared, he could see Oliver lying on his bed.

"Hey," he called out quietly when Oliver looked up. "How are you feeling?"

"Same as before," Oliver said. Titus stopped in the door, and Oliver sat up on his bed. "You just gonna stand there?"

"I, uh," Titus scratched his head. "I need to leave for a couple of days. Mandatory leave."

"Oh," Oliver's face fell. "Then you won't be here when I come out of surgery."

"I tried to stay," Titus told him, pushing away from the door and going to sit beside Oliver. "Butler said he'd have the MPs throw me off the base if I didn't."

Oliver curled up against Titus, taking his hand. "I don't know how much more of this I can take, Titus," he said, closing his eyes. "It hurts so much."

Titus ran his fingers through Oliver's hair, feeling the scars left there by the previous surgeries. He didn't say anything, because there was nothing to be said, nothing that would help, anyway. Deep inside, he knew he was responsible for Oliver's suffering. If he hadn't recruited Oliver into the program, if he hadn't befriended him and lied to him, Oliver wouldn’t be here now. Titus rubbed Oliver's head gently until he felt Oliver's breathing even out in sleep, and ignored the small voice in the back of his head which pointed out that if he hadn't recruited Oliver into Section Six, someone else would have.

#

It was raining when he stepped outside. Titus flipped up the collar of his jacket and glared at the sky. "Perfect," he muttered, trying to use the overhanging roof to stay out of the rain. There was a shuttle bus from the base into town, and Titus spotted it coming down the drive. He stepped out from under the roof only to get splashed when the shuttle hit a puddle just as it was pulling up in front of him. "Oh, you've got to be kidding," Titus grumbled, staring down at his pants, soaked from ankles to knees with muddy water. He considered going back inside to get dry pants, but he didn't want to risk another run in with Butler.

"Hey, man, sorry about that," the driver said, and Titus waved him off.

"Don't worry about it, I'd have gotten soaked either way if I had to walk."

"So, where to?"

"I gotta be off the base for two days, so the first cheap hotel you can think of, no point going anywhere else."

"Oh, man, you're just gonna hibernate?" The driver made a face. "That's no fun. You should go someplace swanky, enjoy yourself."

Titus shrugged. "Whatever. Major Butler mentioned the Random?"

"I know it," the driver nodded. "I just have to drop something off at the officers' club and then we'll be on our way." The bus wove through the base and Titus stared out the window at the rain. When they pulled up to the officers' club, the driver retrieved a package from under a seat and darted out into the rain. Titus leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, the faded beige tiles scarred with small holes of indeterminate origin.

When the driver came back to the bus, he shook his hair out and got behind the wheel. "There's not a lot of traffic today, so it shouldn't be too long."

True to the driver's word, they reached the hotel in short time. After glancing out the window to make sure the Random Hotel had vacancies, Titus held out a hand to the driver. "You gotta let me buy you a drink sometime," he said.

"I've got a couple of days off coming up, maybe at the base," the driver nodded, shaking his hand. "Take care, man. Enjoy your time off."

"Not likely, but I guess I can try," Titus said as he stepped off the shuttle. "Thanks again," Titus waved to the driver as the doors closed behind him. He ran for the hotel door to get out of the rain, and only just avoided colliding with a businessman on his way out to the waiting cab. The man glared at Titus over his shoulder and then disappeared into the recesses of the cab. Titus shrugged and stepped into the lobby of the hotel.

It was a pretty swanky lobby, as such things went, and Titus just how a large chunk of his bank account he would end up spending on his hotel stay. He thought back to Major Butler's warning, and had no doubt he'd just get thrown off the base if he showed up before his leave was up. Squaring his shoulders, he headed for the front desk.

"May I help you, sir?" the girl behind the front desk had a friendly smile that made her blue eyes twinkle, and Titus found himself smiling back, his foul mood notwithstanding.

"I need a room for two nights," he told her. "Whatever you've got that's the cheapest," he added before she even turned to her computer. She nodded and handed him a registration form.

"Please fill out the form, and I'll see what we have available."

Titus scribbled in his name and the address of the base, then handed the card back to the clerk, reaching for his wallet.

"Oh, Mister Casey! We have your room all ready for you."

"You do?"

"Yes, sir. It's been prepaid for two nights." She handed him a key card folder, sliding it towards him across the counter. "This will get you access to all the guest-only areas of the hotel. Your room number is inside the folder there."

"Who paid for the room?" Titus asked, and the girl squinted down at the page in front of her.

"Oh, I'm not sure I can make this out," she tilted her head to the side. "Looks like it starts with a B..."

"Nevermind," Titus held up a hand. "I know who it was." He gave the clerk a smile and pocketed the key. "Could you please put a do not disturb on the phone in my room?"

"Sure thing. If you need anything else, just give me a call."

"Thanks," Titus sketched a vague salute and headed for the elevator. The room he'd been booked into was on the seventh floor, and he leaned against the wall in the elevator as he watched the numbers tick by.

Once in the room, he tossed his bag on the chair by the bed and looked around the room. It was probably one of the nicer rooms if the decor was anything to go by, and he wondered how Butler had known he'd end up there. Perhaps the driver had called him and arranged to drop Titus off at the Random. However Butler had managed, at least he'd gotten a nice room, and Titus made a note to thank the major when he got back to the base.

His pants clung uncomfortably to his legs, which made it as good a time as any to take a shower. After that, he decided he'd look for somewhere to eat, maybe go for a walk, or drop in for a drink or three at the bar. That last sounded like the best option. Being off-base without Oliver felt strange, especially given that while he enjoyed his stay in a four star hotel, Oliver was most likely under the knife in Jenkins' lab.

Titus consulted a map, picking the nearest drinking establishment he could find, a place called Crossroads. There was little for him to do, and drinking away at least part of the evening seemed like a good way to pass the time. The rain had mostly stopped, but it was still dark and cool outside, and Titus pulled his jacket tighter around himself. He could see the neon sign of the bar down the street and walked a bit faster. When he passed by the church, he slowed down, glancing up the steps in front of the church. The stained glass windows were dark, the sign at the bottom of the steps proclaiming that the church of St. Jude Thaddeus was closed between 8pm and 6am.

"Of course it's closed," Titus shook his head. "Some patron saint of hopeless causes you are," he glared at the church. "Might as well try to make a deal with the devil, for all you're worth."

The rain came back, accompanied by a sudden gust of wind. Titus turned to cross the street and was brought up short by a hand gripping his arm tightly. The man who had grabbed him had seemingly come out of nowhere. Titus leaned away from the waves of alcohol fumes coming off the man, trying to pull his arm out of the drunk's grip.

"There is a way out, Titus Casey. The price is high, but if you are willing to pay it, there is a way out." Titus stared at the drunk, remembering Seventeen's words.

"What?" He tried to pull away, but the drunk held on tightly.

"What would you do," the drunk leaned in close and slurred his words into Titus' ear. "What would you do to keep him safe? Would you let them scoop your insides out with a melon baller, would you let them wear your skin like a meatsuit?"

Titus stepped back and yanked his arm out of the drunk's hand. "Whatever you're on, man, you should probably lay off a bit. Crazy talk like that to the wrong person, and you'll end up locked up, or worse."

"No worse than what's waiting for you if you go through with it, Titus Casey," the drunk straightened up, looking a lot less drunk and crazy than ten seconds ago.

"How do you know my name?" Titus stared at him, but the man was already walking away, shaking his head. Titus thought about following the guy, getting answers out of him, but decided it was more trouble than it was worth. He shrugged and headed for the bar, shivering in the cold rain.

The bar turned out to be a club, bass music pounding loud enough to reverberate up through the pavement. Titus shook the water out of his hair, trying to stop it from trickling down his back, where it was making his shirt stick to him clammily. Eyeing the club, he considered trying to find someplace a bit smaller, but the rain chose that moment to pick up and he dove under the overhang to avoid the deluge. He half-expected to come face to face with a bouncer who would no doubt send him on his way, but the only thing he saw was a half-open door. As he stepped inside he sighed at the warm air that enveloped him, chasing away the chill of the rain. Three seconds later, he was caught in the press of bodies that swept him from the entrance toward the dance floor. He fought the flow of bodies and changed directions, trying to head for the bar. Eventually, he managed to get out of the crowd, right next to an empty booth. Knowing better than to waste an opportunity, Titus slid into the booth, sinking a little into the soft oversized seats.

After several unsuccessful tries to flag down one of the waitresses who circulated through the room, Titus was on the verge of giving up and heading towards the bar himself, when a petite, short haired brunette stopped in front of his table.

"What can I get you?" She balanced a tray full of plastic shot tubes on her hip, sighing wearily. Titus stared at her for a moment and she shook her head. "Look, you've been sitting here for like, fifteen minutes, and all the other girls have been ignoring you. I've been watching."

"So why aren't you ignoring me along with the rest of them?"

"Because I don't happen to share their outlook on prospective clients. They were talking about you before, saying that you look like you don't belong in a place like this."

"I could say the same thing about you," Titus said, eyeing her curiously.

"Touché," she nodded, setting the tray down and shaking out the hand she'd held it with. "Can I get you a drink? You have to buy something, even if you just want to sit here."

"What would you recommend?"

"I'd offer you one of these," she motioned to the tray of tubes, filled with multicolored liquids, "but you don't strike me as a shot kind of guy." She tilted her head, studying him. "How about a martini? They're on special tonight, so at least you won't be wasting too much money if you decide not to drink it."

"Not what I'd pick for drowning sorrows in, but OK," Titus shrugged.

"One sorrow-drowning martini, coming up," the girl smiled. "I'm Anna, by the way," she held out her hand.

Titus took her hand and shook it solemnly. "Titus."

"It's nice to meet you, Titus. I'll be right back with your drink."

Several varieties of martinis later, Titus was contemplating how he would get back to the hotel from club. He was pretty sure he wouldn't get very far if he tried to stand up. There was a pleasant numbness in his whole body, and he sank back into the soft embrace of the booth, letting his head fall back onto the headrest. He felt the seat dip as someone sat in the booth, but he ignored it as he had the other six times it had happened over the course of the evening. Each time the people had moved on when they realized Titus was not in the mood to party. This time would be the same, he just had to keep ignoring whoever it was.

"I have to go, I have a client meeting," he heard a man say, and lifted his head to look at whoever was intruding in his booth. The man was tall and dark-haired, dressed in an expensive suit. He reached out and snagged a random passer-by and held the phone out to her. "Here, talk to my friend. No, trust me," he added when the girl stared at him in confusion, "he's a lot of fun." He pushed the phone into her hands and sent her on her way. Turning to Titus, the man grinned toothily. "Good evening, Mister Casey."

"How does everyone in this town know my name?" Titus sat up, gripping the edge of the table to balance himself. "Was there some sort of a memo sent out? Hey, everyone, Titus Casey is coming to town!"

The man laughed and reached across the table to grab Titus' glass, draining half his drink. "Mmm, the Vesper," he licked his lips, not taking his eyes off Titus. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a martini man."

"Good to see there's some mystery left," Titus scoffed. "Look, if you don't mind, I'd like to be left alone. I'm not really in the mood for company, especially when said company steals my drink."

"Aw, cheer up, Titus. I'll buy you another one." He turned to the dance floor and raised his hand to flag down a waitress. Titus wanted to tell him not to waste his time, but ten seconds later, three waitresses were standing in front of the booth, Anna among them. Before Titus could say anything, the man drew Anna toward him, dismissing the others with a glance. "My dear, if you'd be so kind, bring Mister Casey here another martini. Extra olives. And a double of your finest scotch, neat."

Anna barely met the man's eyes before pulling her hand out of his and retreating toward the bar. Titus glared at him. "She's a nice girl. Don't be creepy."

"Oh, relax, Titus. She'll be fine."

"You never answered my question. How do you know my name?"

"I make it my policy to know things about my prospective clients."

Titus stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"You have a unique problem, Mister Casey, and I think I'm in a position to help you out with it," the man said, leaning in close again. "

"Look, buddy, I don't know who you are or what you're on about. Enjoy the booth, I'm gonna go." Titus moved to slide out of the booth, but the man reached across the table to grab his wrist in a tight grip.

"What would you do to keep him safe?"

Titus froze. "That's the third time someone said that to me today. What's going on? Who are you?"

"Finally, you're starting to ask the right questions." The man turned Titus' hand over so that his palm was pointing up. Relaxing his grip, he ran a finger over the inside of Titus' wrist and down onto his palm. "There, that should make the conversation a little easier. I really don't like having to repeat myself."

Titus doubled over when the sharp stabbing pain hit every part of his body at once. After a few moments it passed, and he leaned on the table, trying to get his breathing under control. "What the hell did you just do to me?"

"If we're going to make a deal, I need you to be sober. I wouldn't want you to come back later, complaining that you didn't know what you were getting into because you were drunk."

"If you don't tell me who you are, we're not going to be talking, let alone making deals," Titus said evenly, sitting up. Anna came back to the table just then, bringing their drinks. She glanced at Titus curiously as she placed his drink in front of him, and he smiled at her. "Thanks, Anna."

"Yes, thank you, Anna," the man placed a fifty dollar bill on her tray and made a shooing motion with his hand. When she was gone, the man looked up to the speakers placed around the ceiling. Titus focused on the music and made out the strains of "Sympathy for the Devil." They listened until the song ended, and then the man looked at Titus, staring into his eyes. "The song doesn't lie."

Titus laughed. "You're kidding, right? You expect me to believe you're the—"

"Not The," the man grinned, and Titus could hear the capital letter. "But one of them."

"Riiight." Titus rolled his eyes. "Look, I've got better things to do than sit here and entertain a crazy man. I'm supposed to be relaxing, not catering to the needs of someone who's obviously in need of treatment."

"I assure you, Mister Casey, I'm completely serious. And I can help you."

"Let me get this straight. You claim to be the devil, no, a devil. Because, you know, there are many of them. Of you." Titus reached for his glass and drained half of it in a single gulp. "You don't look like a devil."

"What were you expecting? Fire and brimstone? Red skin and horns?"

"A goatee, at the very least," Titus deadpanned.

"Tried that. Made me look like a reject from the Mirror Universe."

"Of course."

The man sighed. "I should have left you drunk. You were easier to talk to, easier to convince."

"I thought you needed me sober so I'd know what I was getting into."

The man glared at Titus irritably. "Were you this stubborn when Section Six was recruiting you, too?"

"What?" Titus sat up straighter.

"Ah, got your attention now, have I? I told you, I make it a policy to know things about my clients."

"I'm not your client."

"But you could be, if you'd listen."

"There's still the small issue of whether I actually believe you are who you say you are. And you still haven't told me your name."

"You can call me Ben. Ben Lyle, at your service." He reached into his jacket's inner pocket, took out a business card, and handed it to Titus.

"Lyle and Associates, Attorneys at Law." Titus looked up at the man. "You're a lawyer, then?"

"Among other things. Now that the introductions are out of the way, what do you say we get down to business? Or are you still not convinced? With everything you've seen and done, why is this so hard to believe?"

Titus looked down at the card in his hand and then up at Lyle. "Let's say I need a bit more to be completely convinced."

"You know, if I'd known you'd be this difficult, I'd have offered my services to someone else."

Titus motioned towards the dance floor. "Plenty of people in here."

Lyle sighed again and waved his hand in the direction of the dance floor. As Titus watched, all movement slowed and then stopped entirely. Lyle sat back, watching Titus with a smug smile. "All of these people? They're sheep. Just going about their business, mindlessly repeating the same things over and over. Get up, go to work at a mindless, soul sucking job—some of them literally, mind you—come home, pay bills, cook dinner, come out to a bar and get drunk, take someone home for an evening of drunken, forgettable sex, and in the morning, repeat it all over again. You, though. You and the others like you, Oliver, and Amelia, and the others in Section Six, you're special. You get to do things these people would never dream of."

"Why me, though?"

"Because I can."

"Oh, that explains everything."

"Mister Casey, you're sitting in a club with someone who just stopped time around you. What more proof do you need?"

"Fine. Let's assume I believe you. What exactly are you offering?"

"What would you do to keep him safe? What would you do for Oliver?"

Titus hung his head. "Anything."

"I'm sorry? I didn't hear you."

Titus raised his head, glaring at Lyle. "Anything. I'd do anything to get him out of Section Six. To keep him safe."

"That can be arranged," Lyle said evenly.

"And what do you get out of it?"

"The traditional exchange is a favor for your soul," Lyle said. "Unless you have something else to offer?"

Titus shook his head, and took a sip of his drink. "Let's say I believe you, that this is real. How long would I get, if I was actually going to consider this?"

"This is a pretty big thing you'd be getting, but I think I can be generous enough to make it ten years. With the usual renegotiation clauses added, of course."

"Renegotiation?"

"You know, if you want to, I don't know, offer up your firstborn child for an extension. Things can be worked out, Mister Casey. We're nothing if not flexible."

"Ten years, and then what?"

"Then your soul is ours, of course."

"What does that mean?"

"What does it matter?"

Titus let his head fall back on the headrest and closed his eyes. The last time he'd seen Oliver before leaving the base, he'd sworn to himself to do everything he could to make sure Oliver wouldn't have to go through anything like that again. Now it looked like he had the chance to make sure it wasn't an idle promise.

He sat up and looked at Lyle, meeting and holding his gaze.

"Ten years. And we're out of Section Six, safe from them. Oliver is kept safe."

"Subject to renegotiation, yes, those are the terms."

"What do you need me to do?"

Lyle reached into his jacket again, pulling out a sheaf of papers, then handed them to Titus. "Feel free to read it over, and sign on the last page."

"Got a pen?" Titus flipped to the last page, where a post-it marked where he was supposed to sign.

"Are you sure you don't want to read it over?"

"I'm not a lawyer, I wouldn't understand it anyway. If you're going to fuck me over, there's nothing I can do about it anyway."

"That's not a very positive outlook on life, Mister Casey," Lyle chided as he handed Titus his pen. "It's not good for your health."

"Like you care about my health."

"I care about your health very much, Mister Casey. After all, I'm making an investment that's predicated on your well being."

Titus put pen to paper and then looked up at Lyle again. "If you guaranteed me Oliver would be safe, you could have had me tomorrow," he said, then looked back down to the paper and signed his name. The black ink glowed gold for a moment and then went back to normal again.

Lyle collected the papers in a neat stack and put them back in his pocket. "Good doing business with you." He slid out of the booth and buttoned his jacket. Turning to leave, he paused and leaned to towards Titus. "Oh, Mister Casey?" When Titus looked up at him, Lyle pulled Titus into a kiss, pushing his tongue into Titus' mouth, holding on tightly so that Titus couldn't pull away. When he finally ended the kiss, pulling back with Titus' lower lip held between his teeth, Titus scrabbled back in the booth, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Keep the pen," he winked and mimed a fingergun, pointing it at Titus.

Titus stared at Lyle for a moment, long enough to spot Anna coming back, concern on her face, and then everything went black.

#

When he woke up, he was lying in bed, naked, with a woman curled up on each side of him. He raised himself up on his elbows, looking around the room. It was the room he'd checked into at the Random. One of the women had short hair, and she looked a bit like... Yes, it was Anna, the waitress from the club. She reached for him and pulled him down, pressing closer to him, mumbling something in her sleep. Titus let her use him as a pillow and glanced down at the second woman. She had long red hair and slightly exotic features; he wished he could remember how she'd ended up in his bed, and what exactly had gone on afterwards.

He glanced at the alarm clock on the dresser; it was five am already. He lay awake for a while, trying to remember the events of the night. He got as far as Ben Lyle walking away from him, and then everything was a blank. Apparently he'd continued drinking, making up for getting unexpectedly sobered up by... He sat up, making Anna grumble and grab for him. He pushed her hands aside and moved to sit at the foot of the bed. If he couldn't remember what happened after Lyle left, could he be sure that what he remembered from before wasn't just an alcohol-induced hallucination?

"You're thinking so hard I can hear you from here," a woman's voice said, and Titus felt a hand wrap around his shoulders. He looked back at the woman behind him; it was the long-haired redhead, her voice sultry and seductive. "Come back to bed," she said. "You need more rest."

"I can't," Titus leaned into her touch, and then made himself pull away. "I'm... I'm really messed up from last night. I need... I need a shower."

"You need to relax," she repeated, fingers digging into his shoulder. He groaned as he felt the tension drain out of the muscles. The bed shifted as she knelt behind him, using both hands on his shoulders. He let his head hang forward as she worked on him. When he felt her mouth on the back of his neck, he tensed up. "Come on," she whispered, moving until she was speaking directly in his ear, "you liked it before."

"I don't... I don't remember," Titus pushed her away gently, turning to face her. "I don't know how much I had to drink last night, but I can't remember anything after the guy I talked to left. Maybe he..." He tried to remember details, but everything was blurred into an indistinguishable series of blobs. "I don't know. I just don't remember."

"It's OK," she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "I'll just have to refresh your memory." She grinned wickedly and moved around to straddle him. She pushed Titus back until he was lying on the bed with the woman kneeling over him.

"Wait, what about Anna?" He twisted to look up at Anna, curled up around a pillow.

"Don't worry about her. Let her sleep while you and I see about restoring your memories. Or making new ones, at least." She leaned down and kissed him, slowly and thoroughly, closed-mouthed at first, eventually sliding her tongue between his lips. As Titus threaded his fingers through her hair, she ground down in his lap, making him buck under her. "Easy now, cowboy," she teased, "plenty of time for that."

There was a loud knock on the door, and the woman shot an annoyed look in the door's direction. "Ignore it," she said, leaning back down to kiss Titus again. He was inclined to follow her lead, but the knocking came again, louder and longer this time.

"Oh, for crying out loud," the woman climbed off Titus and padded barefoot and naked to the door. She peered through the peephole and turned back to Titus. "Are you in some kind of trouble with the military?"

"What are you talking about?" Titus got to his feet, pulling on his pants.

"There are three MPs outside," the woman said. "And they don't look very happy."

"It's five am," Titus grumbled. "I don't blame them."

The knocking came again, more of a pounding this time.

"Mister Casey! Please answer the door, sir, we need to speak with you."

Titus opened the door as far as the length of the security chain would allow. "What's going on?"

"We need you to come back to base with us, sir," the youngest of the MPs said. "Doctor Jenkins needs you back as soon as possible."

"What is it? Did something happen to Oliver?"

"I don't have that information, sir. Our orders are to get you back to base, ASAP."

Titus nodded. "Give me a couple of minutes, I need to get dressed."

"Yes, sir," the MP said. "Please hurry, we need to get back."

Titus closed the door behind him and grabbed his things, stuffing them into his overnight bad. The redhead sat on the edge of the bed, watching him with a smile playing on her lips.

"I take it something important's happened?"

"I don't know what's happened, but I need to get back to base," Titus said, zipping up his bag. He glanced at Anna, still sleeping heavily. "Look, can you hang around till she wakes up, explain that I had to go?" When the woman turned to give him a long stare, he shook his head. "You're right, that was a stupid question." He knelt by the bed, touching Anna's cheek gently. He shook her shoulder, but the only reaction he got from her was a sleepy groan.

There was another knock on the door, and Titus got to his feet. Anna would think he was an asshole for leaving without a word. Maybe he'd leave her a quick note. He started fumbling for the hotel-provided notepad, and felt the redhead step up behind him.

"Relax," she said, wrapping a hand around his wrist. "I'll tell her you got called away." She turned him around and pressed up against him. "It's a pity you have to go so soon, we never did get to making new memories." She kissed him, pulling back after a moment. "I suppose the ones you already have will have to suffice."

Before Titus could ask what she meant, the woman leaned in and kissed him again. It was a deep and thorough kiss, and it was strangely familiar. When she pulled back slightly, Titus' lower lip held between her teeth, Titus remembered why the kiss felt so familiar; Ben Lyle had kissed him the same way the previous night at the club.

The woman stepped back, her smile identical to Lyle's, and Titus stumbled back, clutching at his head. Images flooded his mind; he saw himself ordering more drinks at the club, flirting with Anna, inviting the redhead who'd been eyeing him into his booth. He watched as she and Anna and the redhead stumbled out of the elevator and down the hall to his room. Flashes of tangled bodies gave him enough of an idea what had gone on once the door had closed behind them.

"Who the hell are you?" He was gasping, trying to get his head to stop spinning.

The redhead lifted his chin with a finger to make him look at her. "You could say I'm an interested party," she smiled. "Although I have to say, after last night, your soul isn't the only thing I'm interested in." She trailed her finger down his chest, hooking it in the waistband of his pants. "If you'd like, I could make sure you don't have to go back right away."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Titus pushed her away and pulled on his t-shirt. "Look, tell your boss I appreciate him sending you over to, I dunno, sweeten the pot or something, but it really wasn't necessary."

The redhead frowned, and tilted her head, staring at Titus curiously. "You really love him, don't you?" Before Titus could answer, she smiled. "If I'd know you swung both ways, I wouldn't have bothered with this," she motioned to her body. As Titus watched, her body changed, growing taller and wider, her hair shrinking and darkening, her face becoming angular and very much masculine. When the transformation was completed, Ben Lyle stood in front of Titus, grinning down at him.

"Looks like I had you today anyway," Lyle leaned in to whisper against Titus' ear. He mouthed along Titus' jaw, nipping lightly as he went, ending on Titus' lips. "Go back to the base, back to your Oliver" he said, standing up. "You'll be on your way out soon." Lyle made a motion with his hand and the door behind Titus opened. "I'll be seeing you, Mister Casey."

Titus stared at Lyle for a moment, until one of the MPs cleared his throat. Titus grabbed his bag and headed for the door. When he was almost out of the room, he turned to look at the bed, where Anna lay sleeping. "Please don't hurt her," he said. "She's a nice girl, she doesn't deserve to be hurt."

"Don't worry about her, Mister Casey," Lyle said, leaning over Anna and brushing hair off her face. "I'll take very good care of her."

"Sir, we really have to go," one of the MPs tapped Titus' shoulder. "Doctor Jenkins just radioed, he needs you back right away."

"I'm coming," Titus snapped. The threw one last look at Anna and Lyle, and then closed the door behind him.

Coming through the lobby escorted by three MPs got Titus a few curious looks, but he kept moving forward, heading for the front door. Titus was three feet away from the humvee waiting at the curb when someone grabbed his sleeve, yanking him backwards. He turned and came face to face with a disheveled man who was wearing a sandwich board with THE END IS NIGH lettered in shaky-looking letters.

"You!" The man howled, pointing a finger at Titus. "Lost to perdition, your soul is forfeit! You will burn in the fires of Hell!"

Titus shook the man's grip off his arm and turned back to the humvee. "Tell me something I don't know, buddy," he muttered.

#

The ride back to the base passed in silence. The MPs left Titus alone, and he was happy to sit staring out the window at what passed for the scenery on the way back. Once they reached the base and the lab building, Titus jumped out of the humvee before it stopped moving and ran inside. He left his overnight bag somewhere in a hallway as he barreled towards the main lab. When he burst through the doors, Jenkins turned to face him.

"Ah, Mister Casey. About time you got here." He frowned, watching Titus try and catch his breath. "Well, come on, don't waste any more of my time. We need you in the tank room."

"Could someone tell me what was so important that I got pulled out of my hotel room, in the middle of my leave?" Titus decided to go on the offensive, to shake off the bad feeling plaguing him.

"If you are under the impression that every shred of your time, free or not, does not ultimately belong to us, Mister Casey," Jenkins gazed at him evenly, "you are gravely mistaken. Now, if you please, the tank room."

Titus forced himself not to glare at Jenkins and followed him into the next room. He glanced briefly at Seventeen's tank, and then all his attention was taken up by Oliver, strapped to an examination table in the middle of the room. Moving slowly, Titus walked over to the table until he was standing next to Oliver. Titus looked down at Oliver and frowned.

"What's wrong with him? I can barely feel he's in the room."

"Noticed that, have you?" Jenkins came over to stand on the other side of the table. "We've had to give him a rather high dose of suppressants. About seven hours ago, we were finishing up the testing after the latest surgery. Everything was going well, and then Twenty One started screaming." Jenkins put a hand on Oliver's forehead, staring down at him. "We lost the entire lab, along with several personnel. They're still trying to extract all the bodies... well, body parts. It's not easy, given that most of the lab has been melted into slag."

"Oliver did that?" Titus gripped the edge of the table to avoid the urge to take Oliver's hand in his and not let go. "I didn't think he had that kind of abilities."

"Neither did we," Jenkins shook his head. "Just before we lost control of him, the readings all spiked into the red line, and then he just," Jenkins mimicked an explosion with his hands, "went off."

"I don't understand," Titus shook his head. "You've got him under control now, what do you need me for?"

"You're his partner, Mister Casey," Jenkins said. "You've always had a calming effect on Twenty-One, here," he patted the top of Oliver's head, and Titus clenched his fists tighter. "We're going to try and wean him off the suppressants, and we need you to keep him calm. We need to determine if the spike was a one time occurrence, or if somehow, his abilities are out of control."

"What'll happen if you can't control him?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Jenkins said, walking away.

"What do I do?"

"Just stay where you are for now. We're going to lower the suppressant dosage, see how things go."

"Is that why he's unconscious, because of the suppressants?"

"Very good, Mister Casey," Jenkins spoke absently as he focused on the readouts in front of him.

Titus leaned down and took Oliver's hand in his. The moment their hands touched, his sense of Oliver got much stronger. A lab tech placed a syringe filled with a bright blue liquid on a nearby table, then attached a line leading from it to the main IV line going into Oliver's arm.

"What's that?"

"If he spikes again, we're going to need to give him another big dose of the suppressants," the tech explained. She gave Titus a small smile. "Don't worry, I'm sure it'll be fine. If anything goes wrong, I'll be right here to push this in."

"If you say so," Titus said, focusing on Oliver. He squeezed Oliver's hand and tried to will him to wake up.

"We've got something!" One of the lab techs by the main bank of monitors said. "He's starting to wake up, I think."

"You think?" The scorn in Jenkins' voice more than made up for the scientist not bothering to look in the tech's direction. "Try not to say anything unless you're absolutely positive."

Titus saw Oliver's eyelids flutter and leaned closer to Oliver.

"Hey, buddy, you in there?" He spoke quietly enough that only the tech hovering over the syringe could hear him. "Oliver?"

Oliver opened his mouth, but only a dry croaking sound came out. Titus looked up at the tech. "He needs some water. Can you get some, please?"

"I..." The tech looked to Jenkins.

"No, Miss Venner. Please stay at your post," Jenkins told her. He tapped the tech beside him on the shoulder and pointed him towards the door. The tech headed out and returned a couple of minutes later with a bottle of water and a straw.

Titus took the bottle and straw from the tech and turned to Oliver. "You have to drink slowly, OK? Don't want you getting sick."

Oliver nodded and took the straw when Titus offered it. Titus made sure to pull the bottle away when Oliver started to gulp more greedily. "That's enough for now. Can you talk?"

"Still feels kinda dry," Oliver said, trying to sit up. "What happened?"

"Apparently you melted a lab," Titus told him. "I wasn't there, I don't know what happened, exactly, but there was something about your abilities getting turned up to eleven, if I understood the technobabble properly."

"Did I hurt anyone?" Oliver glanced around the room, and Titus saw the techs eyeing them both cautiously.

"Don't worry about that right now. They're turning off the suppressant drugs, to see if your abilities are still out of whack, or if it was a one time thing."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Focus, Twenty-One," Jenkins droned from where he stood. "Focus on your abilities, on controlling them."

"What are we doing?"

"The standard test. You know the routine. Start from the very beginning, with the targets."

Oliver lay back and closed his eyes. Titus turned to look at the monitor which showed the practice range located several floors below them. The man-shaped targets slid back to the very back of the room, and the throwing knives on the table began to quiver. Titus could hear the heartbeat monitor speed up as the knives rose into the air, moving smoothly now. They flew down the length of the range and tore through the targets. The beeping of the heartbeat monitor sped up again, even though the first test was done. Titus glanced back at Doctor Jenkins, who was frowning at some of the displays in front of him.

"Doctor Jenkins?" The tech with her hand on the syringe asked, eyeing the monitors.

"Not yet, Miss Venner. This might simply be a side effect of the suppressants wearing off. Let's give it a chance to stabilize." One of the monitors in front of Jenkins went blank, followed by another, and another. "What's going on?" Jenkins grabbed another tech and pushed him towards the monitors. "Figure it out, I need to know right now!"

"It's Twenty One, sir, his readings are spiking again. He's overloading the systems."

Titus listened to the scientists shouting things back and forth, and underneath all of that was the sound of the heartbeat monitor, the beeping almost an unbroken sound now. He leaned over Oliver and took Oliver's face in his hands.

"Oliver, you have to calm down," he whispered into Oliver's ear. "Come on, Oliver, you can do it."

Oliver opened his eyes and Titus stumbled back from the table. Oliver's eyes had gone all black, pupils and whites likewise drowned out.

"I can see them all," he said, his voice quaking. "Help me, Titus, I can't..."

"Now, Miss Venner," Jenkins shouted. "Do it now!"

The tech started to inject the contents of the syringe into the IV line, and Oliver waved a hand in her direction, sending her flying into the bank of monitors. Titus grabbed Oliver's hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Come on, Oliver, don't do this."

"I can't stop," Oliver said. "I can't stop it, I can see them all, I can touch them all," he held up a hand in front of him, reaching out for something only he could see. He turned towards Titus and shook his head. "Make it stop, Titus, I can't make it stop." He pulled his hand out of Titus' grip and squeezed his head with both his hands. "Make it stop!" He yelled, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, drawing out the last word until it turned into a scream. Titus started to reach for the syringe still attached to the IV line, when suddenly Seventeen also started screaming, her voice joining in with Oliver's to form a shrill harmony. She thrashed in the tank, splashing liquid all around, and Titus fell to his knees, clutching at his head.

"Mister Casey? What is it?" Jenkins was at his side, helping him up, pulling him away from the examining table.

"I don't know what they're doing, but they're doing it together."

"Seventeen and Twenty One?"

"No, all of them. All of the psychics you have in here, they're all doing it together. I can feel it; I can feel them... him in my head." Titus shook off Jenkins' grip on his arm and moved back to the syringe.

"What are you doing, Mister Casey?"

"You heard him," Titus looked back over his shoulder. "This isn't something he's doing voluntarily. We need to stop, or it'll kill him. And the rest of them, most likely." With a quick glance at Oliver, who was still screaming, Titus pushed the plunger all the way down, injecting the rest of the dose into the IV. Once the syringe was empty, Titus went back to Oliver's side and put a hand on Oliver's forehead. "It'll be OK, Oliver, just hang in there."

A couple of minutes later, Oliver stopped screaming, his voice gone hoarse and no louder than a whisper. He lost consciousness, and Titus checked his pulse. It was still racing, but it was steady, and Titus breathed a sigh of relief.

"What did you do to him?" Titus whirled on Jenkins, grabbing the scientist by his lab coat. "This is your fault!"

"Mister Casey, I assure you, violence towards me will solve nothing." Jenkins pushed Titus away lightly and straightened his coat. "It's possible that the latest treatment caused some... unforeseen changes in his abilities. The instability he's experiencing may very well prove temporary. We won't know until we've run some further tests."

"What if it's not temporary?"

"Don't worry about it for now," Jenkins gave Titus a strained smile. "He needs to rest, let's leave him be for now. I suggest you go back to your quarters and get yourself ready."

"Ready for what?"

"Since Twenty-One will likely be out of commission for some time, there's no use in postponing your next round of treatments. This way your down times will overlap and we'll lose less operating time." He looked down at his computer, then back up to Titus. "This actually works well for us. We've got a mission scheduled for you two next month. I'd been hoping not to have to postpone, and it looks like I won't have to."

Titus looked down at Oliver. "I'd really like to stay with him."

"And I'd really like you to stop wasting my time," Jenkins said, lowering his voice. "Get yourself unpacked and report to Doctor Preston."

Titus tried to stare Jenkins down, but he knew Jenkins well enough to know where it was pointless to argue any further. He patted Oliver's shoulder one last time and headed out of the lab. He needed to find his overnight bag, dropped somewhere along the way, and then get ready for the treatment. It wasn't something he ever looked forward to, but with Oliver's state on his mind, it would be even more difficult.

He felt something in his pocked and pulled out a matchbook from the Crossroads Club. He thought about the deal he'd made, and wondered what part of the deal Oliver's current condition was supposed to be. He had Lyle's card in his jacket pocket, and he thought about calling, but given what had happened earlier that morning, he didn't think it would do any good. He stared down at the matchbook in his hand and almost tripped over his overnight bag, lying in the corridor where he'd dropped it. Grateful that it was still early enough that the corridor was practically empty, he picked up the bag and headed for his room.

#

An hour later, he was being strapped to an examination table of his own, an IV line snaking from his arm to the bag of saline solution hanging over him.

"I hate this part," he told the tech, a young man he'd only seen once before.

"I'm sorry," the tech said. "I'm sure if there was any way..."

"Relax," Titus told him. "I'm just bitching about it for the sake of bitching. I'm pretty used to it by now."

"Are you ready, Mister Casey?" Doctor Preston's voice came over the speakers, and Titus turned toward the monitoring booth, waving as best he could with his arm strapped down.

"Yeah, Doc, I'm ready."

The tech looked down at him and smiled apologetically. "Sorry about this." He started the drip, injecting the contents of a syringe into the IV line.

Titus shrugged and closed his eyes, trying to relax. He felt the tingling in his arm start almost right away as the drugs entered his system, and heard his heart rate monitor speed up slightly. As the tingling turned to burning, he gritted his teeth. It would get better in a few moments, once the drugs were fully in his system. The treatments had never been painless, but he'd gotten used to them over the years. He always told himself it was nowhere near anything what Oliver went through every time, and that made it easier to handle.

This time, the pain went from tolerable to bad to excruciating, and Titus writhed on the table, trying to ride out the pain. He tried to focus on the sound of the heartbeat monitor, a rapid beeping that reminded him of the way Oliver's heartbeat had sounded. Doctor Preston's voice came again over the speakers.

"We're getting some really strange readings here, Mister Casey, are you all right?"

"No, I'm not fucking all right," Titus snapped. "What the hell did you give me, Doc? This doesn't feel like anything I've had before."

"It's a slightly higher dose than the last time, but it's the same treatment," Preston's voice carried a note of concern. "Are you sure the reaction you're experiencing is that much different?"

"It feels like my veins are on fire," Titus said, his back bowing as the pain wracked his body. "I think something's wrong."

"Try to hang in there, Mister Casey, it should pass soon."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who feels like he's been injected with acid." Titus gritted his teeth again and strained against the restraints. The pain was getting worse, not better, and he wondered whether it was a coincidence that both he and Oliver were experiencing bad reactions to their treatments after he made the deal with Lyle. He laughed, a choked sound that sounded more like a moan. If he'd truly made a deal with the devil, it wouldn't surprise him if he and Oliver were about to get screwed over. If they were both dead, they'd be out of Section Six, safe from them. Before he'd finished the thought, there was another flare of pain, and Titus lost consciousness.

#

When he woke up, it was to the steady beeping of equipment and the clean, sterile smell he had long ago come to associate with the base infirmary. Peering through a slit in the curtain drawn around his bed, he could see a couple of other beds similarly screened off, but otherwise, the infirmary was empty. Titus sat up, grimacing as his motion caused the electrodes attached to his chest to tug at his skin. Impatiently, he yanked them off, wincing at the volume of the alarms that started blaring. Before he could untangle himself from the wires and pull out the needle in the hand, the curtain parted to reveal a cross-looking nurse.

"Mister Casey. Back with us, I see," she pushed him back down onto the bed. "I know you must be eager to get out of here after two weeks, but we'll need to check you over first to make sure you're fit to leave."

"Two weeks?" Titus grimaced as the nurse pulled back the tape holding the needle in his hand and slid the needle out. "What about Oliver? Is he..."

"He's fine," the nurse reassured him, raising the bed to a sitting position. "Doctor Jenkins and his team figured out the proper dosage a little over a week ago." She took a blood pressure cuff off a hook on the wall and reached for Titus' arm. He held out his arm and sat silently as the nurse took his blood pressure. After hanging up the cuff and writing down the result, the nurse stuck a thermometer in his ear. "He's been by to see you every day, you know," she said with a smile. "It's nice that you have someone who cares that much about you. Not many people here have that luxury."

"Yeah, I know," Titus said, scratching at the side of his head. He felt the stitches there moments before the nurse slapped his hand away.

"Stop that," she said. "You don't want to rip them, do you?"

"What did they do to me that I needed stitches for?"

"You had a bad reaction to the drugs. Doctor Jenkins needed to go in and check for any changes since they couldn't find anything through external methods."

"And?"

"You're a mystery, Mister Casey. The doctors are all as baffled by you as they are by Mister Hall."

Outside of his own thoughts and the last conversation he'd had with Ben Lyle, it was one of the few times he'd heard anyone refer to Oliver as anything other than Twenty One in a long time.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For using Oliver's name, instead of calling him Twenty One."

"Outside of official reports and such, I don't see the point of dehumanizing him like that," the nurse said, putting down the chart. "You seem fine to me, Mister Casey, but I'm sure Doctor Jenkins will want to make the final decision. I'll let him know you're awake." With that, she swept out again, closing the curtain behind her.

Titus thought about the last things he remembered—Oliver's near meltdown and his own test that ended in unconsciousness. Going by what the nurse had said, it seemed like whatever happened to him was fairly serious, and he wondered what it would mean for him that his condition was still a mystery.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mister Casey," Doctor Jenkins swept the curtain aside. "You gave us quite a puzzle to figure out."

Titus shrugged, not sure what he was supposed to say. "Sorry?"

"I've recommended to Major Butler and his superiors that we run more tests on you and Twenty One, to figure out what happened." Titus stiffened at the scientist's words. "It seems that the company has different plans for you, however." Jenkins picked up the chart and looked over it. "Seems you're fine to leave. Report to Major Butler, he'll tell you about your reassignment."

"Reassignment? Where am I going?"

"Major Butler didn't see fit to share that information with me, Mister Casey," Jenkins stared down at Titus. "Apparently removing assets from my project is something he doesn't feel necessary to explain to me. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask the Major. Perhaps he'll be more forthcoming with you than he has been with me." With that, the scientist threw the chart at the foot of the bed and left Titus alone, staring at Jenkins' retreating back in confusion.

When the nurse came back, Titus was still sitting on the bed, trying to figure out what had just happened.

"Well?" The nurse asked.

"I don't think he's very happy," Titus said, looking in the direction Jenkins had disappeared.

"Trust me," the nurse leaned towards him, dropping her voice to a stage whisper, "he hasn't been happy in a long time." Titus laughed, and the nurse straightened up. "What did he say? Are you cleared to leave?"

"Yeah. He said something about me getting reassigned. I have to go see Major Butler about it."

"I'm sure the Major wouldn't mind if you took some time for yourself first," the nurse said. "You could go back to your room, have a shower, get some clean clothes, visit with Oliver?"

"Yeah," Titus grinned. "I'm sure the Major wouldn't mind." He pulled back the covers on the bed and swung his feet to the floor. "I'm OK to leave, right?"

The nurse stood aside, motioning him toward the door. "Go," she laughed, "I'm sure he's waiting."

"Thank you," Titus called over his shoulder. He was halfway out the door before the words were out of his mouth. It had to be late afternoon judging by the number of people in the hallway, and Titus had to fight his way through the crowd. He was six feet from the elevator when he heard someone call his name. He turned to see Major Butler gesturing him toward his office. Suppressing the frustrated groan that threatened to escape, Titus squared his shoulders and crossed the hallway to the office.

"It's good to see you up on your feet, Mister Casey," Major Butler said, stepping forward with an extended hand. Titus shook the major's hand and braced himself.

"Thank you, sir. It's good to be in the land of the conscious again."

"Has Doctor Jenkins been by to see you?" Butler got right to the point.

"Yes, sir. He came by while I was in the infirmary. He said something about me being reassigned?"

"During the two weeks you were in the infirmary, Doctor Jenkins and his team tried the treatment on you twice more after the first time," Butler said. "That's why you were in there for two weeks, instead of a few days. They almost lost you the second time. Gave us quite a scare." Titus didn't realize he'd raised his hand to the scars on his head until he saw Butler staring at him.

"Sorry. They're kinda itchy."

"No need to apologize," Butler shook his head. "Anyway, the good doctor tried very hard to recoup his losses, but apparently you're just not meant for further testing. Which is why you're being transferred out of Section Six, and assigned as a consultant to a private company we work with quite closely."

"Consultant?"

Major Butler looked up at Titus. "I could mince words and try to pretty it up, but you'll basically be taking care of whatever business they need, legitimate or not."

"They need a cleaner," Titus said, and the Major nodded. Titus cleared this throat. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow. There's an apartment in town set up for you. I'm sure you won't be staying here permanently, but it'll be up to the company to set that up. You'll be contacted by someone when you get settled in, he'll fill you in."

Titus stood up, eager to get going and share the news with Oliver. "I wish I could say it's been a pleasure working with you, but that'd be lying. Still, you've done a lot for us, and I want to thank you," he held out his hand and Butler took it. "I mean no offense when I say that I hope never to see you again."

"Understood, Mister Casey. Good luck to you, and to Oliver. I'm sure you'll take care of each other."

"Yes, sir." Titus nodded and left the Major's office. He forced himself not to run through the hallways and walked to the elevator at a normal pace. Once he reached the residential floor, he sprinted past his room and burst into Oliver's room without knocking.

Oliver was reading a book, but when Titus ran into the room, he put the book down and was on his feet before the door closed behind Titus.

"Titus! I didn't know you were being released from the infirmary! I would have come to get you!"

"Never mind that," Titus grinned. "Start packing your things."

"What?" Oliver crossed the room and took hold of Titus' head, turning it to one side and then the other, frowning at the stitches on Titus' temple. "What are you talking about?"

"We're being reassigned. Out of Section Six, off the base. We're leaving tomorrow."

"For real?" Oliver's eyes went wide, and Titus had never seen him look that hopeful. It was a split second's decision to close the distance between them and kiss Oliver, pulling him close. A few seconds later, he broke the kiss, stepping back from Oliver.

"Sorry," he stammered. "I just..." He stared at Oliver, who stared back at him, fingers held to his lips. "Fuck. Look, I can go, just forget this hap--" And then he couldn't talk anymore, because Oliver was kissing him. Definitely, unequivocally, enthusiastically kissing him. Titus tried to keep a clear head, thinking he should probably stop this, that they should talk about things calmly and rationally, and then Oliver's tongue was in his mouth and all thought went out the window.

The feeling of Oliver's arms around him, of Oliver's lips pressing against his, of his fingers sliding through Oliver's hair, it was the only thing that mattered. When the night was over, there would be other things to deal with, from the mundane moving details to the inevitable consequences of the deal he made, but right then and there, there was only Titus and Oliver. As they tumbled to the bed together, Titus opened his eyes and looked up at Oliver, and for the first time in a long time felt happy.