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Chapter -2- Building Bridges

June 2, 1999, noon New York City ...

** Karla ground her teeth together** in frustration. "Hold your ears," she told Chance. "And keep your eyes forward, babe." She leaned back, head against the cheap vinyl headrest. She felt a silenced gun barrel against the nape of her neck, between the headrest and backrest.

She tensed her right hand into a fist and the headrest came down, clenching the barrel against the top of the seat. She opened her fist, spreading her fingers wide.

All at once, a bullet burst from the handle of the pistol, backwards, and ripped through the hand of the gunman.

The round continued in reverse, ripping from the backside of the gunner's hand. The bullet flew into his forehead. He slumped to the right in the backseat.

The succubus huffed with indignation. "I knew I should have got the additional coverage for this rental car," she muttered softly. "We're going to have to ditch this car quick. People will notice blood spray in the back window. Dammit."

"You killed that man," said Chance in a soft voice. "Christ. He's actually ... dead." Swallowing became uncomfortable. It felt as though he had a lump in his throat.

"Yeah, I know; it sucks. I'm sorry you had to witness that, babe. One sec." She withdrew a Motorola StarTAC from her purse and flipped it open then brought it to her ear.

A moment later she said, "Nathanial ... I could really use your help, old timer. I'm in New York City and I need to get home." She paused to listen to a man's response over the phone and said, "Darius showed up with a gun, intending to kill the boy. I'm calling him Chance."

Another pause, and then, "Darius hired people to kill us. Where are you?" Another brief pause, then, "What do you mean you _can't_help me? Who should I call? Methos sure as hell can't help me. He's the one who got me into this mess!"

Chance bit his lower lip. He stole a glance back at the body, pursed his lips together and closed his eyes. He could hear a masculine voice over the tinny sounding speaker against her ear.

"Karla," said the man over the line, "you need to call Methos right now. Do not drive across the country. It's better to be nervous for a few hours on a plane than to dodge attackers for two or three days on the open road. Get something for your anxiety and get on a plane."

"You want me to fly? I mean, seriously."

"Yes, I do. I think JetBlue goes nonstop to Oakland. That will get you closer to home, sooner."

"What the hell is JetBlue? Never heard of them."

Nathan drew quiet for a moment. "Nevermind. They're still a startup company. My mistake. Look, just pick a big brand name that's offering a nonstop back home. I'm not going to argue about this with you. You cannot afford to let them catch up to you."

"What the hell am I getting myself into, Nathan?"

"That boy is telepathic. Trust me on this. His ability is real."

"How can you be sure?"

"We'll talk about this later." Carrington sighed, causing the line to distort briefly. "Listen, Karla, I cannot help you right now. I have a lot going on. But you'll be okay, trust me on that. And, I hate to say I told you so about Darius, but you just had to shag him as an excuse to spy on the council. Darius Vei is an idiot and a tool. I hope you won't waste your time anymore."

"It's over between us. So, when are you coming home?"

"No time soon. Put the kid in the guest room."

Karla blinked, eyes wide. "What??" It was the first time Chance saw her with a look of worry on her face.

"Just do it. I've got to go. Take care, kiddo." He disconnected from the call.

Karla looked down at her little black flip phone for a moment, huffed with indignation, and then she snapped it shut. "God, what the hell is going on? This was supposed to be a milk run."

Chance licked his lips and fidgeted nervously. "Now what?"

"I'll call my friend, Methos. He'll pay for a plane ticket for each of us. When we get to California, I'll take you to him. He'll run some tests to determine if you're the real deal. Then we'll figure out a way to keep you off the radar."

Something thumped against the back of the car causing her to flinch. She glanced in the rearview. "I don't know where that bullet came from, but we're running out of options."

"Why are they trying to kill me? What did I do wrong?"

"Telepathy challenges their ability to lie, cheat and steal. It could topple any government."

"So why didn't they come after me while I was still in a coma?"

Karla switched lanes and checked her mirrors again. "You were nobody until you came out of your coma and started reading people's minds aloud in your sleep. So, at least we know one thing about you."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"You talk in your sleep." She offered him a sheepish grin then changed lanes back across. A silver sedan came up on her left. It moved towards her, threatening to force the Cavalier up onto the sidewalk.

She moved away, into the shoulder briefly, then back into her lane. With a huff, she lifted her hand and extended her middle finger to the other car.

"Karla, I don't want to die."

"Just think of me and my pals as witness protection. Once we get you out of the spotlight, you'll be okay." She tossed her phone to him. "Hold this." She kept her left middle finger up, towards the silver car.

Chance caught the phone and frowned. He cleared his throat, watching the car on the left.

A mirror-tinted passenger window lowered and they could see a man with a silenced pistol.

"Karla..."

"Just relax, babe." She turned her left hand about, so that her palm faced towards the adjacent vehicle. "When someone pushes me, I shove back." All at once, the silver sedan veered out of the left-hand lane and rear-ended a dump truck in the far left-turn lane. "Give me my phone."

Chance passed it to her.

She flipped it open and thumbed the keypad. "Y'know, Nathan hates when I use the cellphone and drive. He said one day it's probably going to be against the law. Old people say the funniest things, huh?" She brought the phone to her ear.

"I guess." Chance glanced in the backseat again and swallowed. He took a deep breath and looked forward. He closed his right hand around the door handle as though it would somehow give him some measure of comfort.

Karla heard a voice answer over the line. She cleared her throat with dramatic purpose then said, "I'm leaving a trail of bodies for you to clean up. How dare you send people after us? Call off your goddamn henchmen or I'll come after you, Darius."

Chance could hear a man's reply from the little black phone against the side of her face.

"No. I'm afraid I cannot do that," Vei said over the line.

"Then we're done."

Chance held his breath, listening to the conversation. He heard the man's tone grow angry.

"Fine. I don't want to be involved with someone who puts their emotions before their professionalism, anyhow."

"Yeah? Well, I wear kitten heels that are bigger than your dick, you jerk."

Chance bit his lip.

The man on the phone sounded frustrated and snapped back in a terse tone. "I wear shoes cleaner than your pussy, succubus bitch. You have no business interfering with official Council orders."

"Oh!" Karla exclaimed, trying to bottle her anger. "If that's true, it's only dirty because I slept with you. Which, by the way, will never happen again."

"I was there to do a job, Karla! I was acting on orders passed down behalf of the Council! You're the one that snatched my gun away and started acting melodramatic!"

Karla snorted incredulously. "Yeah. That's right. It's my fault you acted like a complete ass. I am the bitch-fairy and I sprinkled asshole dust on your head when you weren't looking. You figured me out."

Vei said, "We need to resolve this. You have no business interfering with my investigation."

"You should call a spade a spade, Darius. This nonsense was never an investigation; it was an assassination attempt! You yuppies find out he's a telepath, you wait until Aris and the nurses aren't looking, then you come in with a gun and a silencer. Then you pointed it in my direction - that wasn't very smart. I'm done playing games. I just called to tell you that you're going to have your hands full cleaning up bodies. The more you push me, the more I'll push back. And if you don't leave the boy alone, you'll have more than just bodies to clean up." She continued without skipping a beat, "I sure as hell hope your buddies were members of the Esoteric Community. If I find out you were hiring humans to fight your battles..."

"Karla! Calm down and listen to me. We need to talk this out!"

"Oh, you suddenly want to talk? You authorized your people to shoot at me, dickhead."

"Stop arguing and stop being so stubborn, Karla. Calm down and let's talk about this in person. Where are you?"

"Come find me." She snapped the phone shut. The StarTAC disappeared.

Chance blinked. "What'd you do with it?"

"I teleported it. Like I said earlier, it's much easier with objects than people. I can't have them tracking the phone. I don't know if they can really do that but Nathanial once told me if I ever need to make myself disappear, I need to ditch my phone. I liked that StarTAC, too. Whatever."

"Karla, I'm sorry I'm putting you in danger. I'm sorry you're going through all of this because of me."

She shrugged. "It's no big thing. I'll pick up a TRAC Phone for now, and..." She paused and cut her gaze to the left. "I have an idea!"

"Okay?"

"Yeah! Trust me, babe!" She spied an officer writing a citation on the other side of the street. She merged into the next available left-turn lane and turned the car in the opposite direction.

"I trust you, okay? I'm just stressed out. This is way too much going on at once."

Karla flipped a lock of blond back over her shoulder, gave him a reassuring smile, and stopped at a red light two blocks from the officer. "I need you to play along with everything I say, okay?" She frowned at the boy. "You okay? You look pale."

He bit his lip and looked in the back seat again with a cringe. "The thought of telepathy is kinda' weird. But I have to admit - when you killed him, however it happened, I got a headache. I can't explain it."

"Probably sympathy pain. You're telepathic and empathic. That's a lot on your plate."

"Empathic?"

Karla shrugged. "Haven't you ever watched Star Trek TNG?"

"I ... if I have, I don't remember it." He thought of an image. In his mind, he saw a female character in a teal one-piece bodysuit then asked, "Councilor Troi? I might have seen the show - the character seems familiar."

Karla scrunched her brows. "You can see an image in my head? Wow. That's impressive." She glanced up at the red light then looked around, checking for any other signs of trouble.

"Maybe I'm just remembering things ... like the show you mentioned. Maybe you're looking more into this than you should. The thought of having telepathy doesn't really seem realistic to me. I'm just ... Jesus!"

"Yes?" she asked with an innocent smile.

"I just thought of something completely inappropriate. I'm sorry. It caught me off guard. What the hell is wrong with me? I don't know what the hell is wrong with me - I just saw someone die and now I'm thinking of..."

"Me naked?"

"Uh ... I, uh," he blushed and glanced out the window, lower lip clamped between his teeth.

Karla stuck her tongue out with an ear-to-ear grin. "Just testing for consistency. And to prove a point, obviously."

"What?"

"I was just recalling how good I looked in the mirror when I got out of the shower this morning. I wanted to tone up my legs, so I started jogging recently and it's been paying off. You like what you saw?"

"Karla," he trailed off and followed her gaze to a police officer, standing next to a booted Ford Escort. "Wait, you're going to the cops?? You just killed a man!"

"I didn't actually say 'the cops' out loud. Again, you're proving your ability."

"You're looking at a police car parked in front of the building over there!"

"You need to believe in yourself, Chance. Anyway, the cops will have no idea that _I _killed someone. I didn't touch him. There's no forensic evidence. If you're going to survive in this lifestyle, you need to learn the art of subterfuge and the finer points of manipulation, baby-boy. Now, watch and learn."

"I'm feeling anxious, Karla."

She cut the wheel and approached a police car parked against the curb.

She opened the driver door and held her hands up. "Play along," she said softly then slid the rest of the way out of the rental car.

"I don't feel safe sitting here."

Karla ignored his plea. In a practiced panicky voice, she shouted to the cop walking back to his car, "This man in the backseat tried to kill us with a gun! I ... I think it backfired or ... or he shot himself! Please, help us! He tried to carjack me and my boyfriend!"

Chance brought his hand to his forehead and groaned into his palm. He stared through his fingers at the dashboard. Fear and worry nested in his heart. "God, I'm anxious enough about almost dying twice today. I didn't need this," he whispered.

The officer hurried back towards Karla, speaking into his radio for backup. "Ma'am, step back. Move around in front of your vehicle and put your hands on the hood. Tell your passenger to come out and do the same. Hands on the hood, now."

Karla looked in through the driver side and up-nodded. "Do as he says."

Chance eased out of the car. He stumbled, but kept his hands on the side of the Cavalier to support himself.

The hospital socks with the rubberized patterns along the top and bottom became dirty on the asphalt. He curled his toes due to the heat of the pavement.

Karla moved around the opposite side of the rental car. They stood across from one another, hands on the hood.

The police officer glanced into the back window, seeing the blood spray. He saw that the gun appeared to have erupted from the back of the handle, and the dead man's left hand was torn apart. A second pistol dangled from the gunner's right index finger by the trigger guard.

The officer moved behind Karla. He frisked her briefly and said, "I need to check your hand bag for weapons."

"Yes, yes of course, sir." Karla held her arm out but clenched her hand into a fist to hide the pink glow on her palm. The handgun belonging to Darius disappeared from her purse.

She un-shouldered the bag and placed it on the hood.

Chance looked at the officer, eyes wide and nervous. "Karla..."

"It's fine," she said, in a tone that mixed practiced panic with confident reassurance. "Sweetie, he's an officer of the law. He won't judge a woman on the contents of her purse. He's a professional, after all. And now that he's here to help us, we'll be safe." She snuck a wink at the boy and afforded him a secret smile.

The officer eased the handbag from the hood and rummaged through it. He handed it back and moved around to Chance. He frisked the boy then asked, "Where'd this happen?"

"I was just picking my boyfriend up from the hospital," Karla said. "He came out of a surgery. They had him in some sort of coma. I don't know if it was medically induced or not, but he just came out of it and he's foggy right now. Afterwards, we got into my rental car. The carjacker was in my backseat."

The officer nodded for her to continue.

Karla nodded back, adding, "The guy started yelling at us. I went the wrong way on the road; he got all upset and pulled the trigger on one of his guns. We heard a loud noise, and oh my God, I thought that was it ... my ears are still ringing ... and I looked in the rearview mirror and saw that there was blood everywhere. I panicked. My boyfriend saw you across the street and we came right over."

"Alright. I'm going to need your ID."

Karla pulled out a California driver's license, showing that she was eighteen years old.

The officer looked up from her license then back down at the laminated card. "I thought you couldn't rent a car until you were twenty-five, kid?"

"I can get you the rental agreement ... actually, on second thought, it's in the glove box. I don't wanna go back in there with that dead man. Oh my god, I'm so wound up, I can't even cry yet. I want to, but it just isn't ... I can't cry, is that normal, sir? Oh my god. We could have died."

The officer grimaced. "I understand. It's over now; you're safe. I need you to calm down and wait here." The officer climbed into the front seat of the car.

"What're you doing?" Chance whispered.

"Surrounding you with protection, and showing Darius if he's going to play dirty, so will I. Now they're going to run prints on Dee's thug. I don't mess around."

"You're a pretty good actress."

"I only know how to play two roles - damsel in distress and flirty jezebel. I'm good at saying what men want or need to hear. Now, shh."

The officer came back with the rental agreement and said, "I'm going to have to write a police report for you to take to Avis. I need you both to come down to the station and give a statement. Young man, do you have your ID?"

"Sir, I was in a coma."

"Since December," Karla added.

Chance frowned. "I don't have any of my belongings. But you can check with the hospital. I'm a little scrambled right now."

Karla glanced back at Chance then scooted in closer to the officer. In a more personal tone she told the man, "They removed a tumor from his head, sir. I have his file in my purse. He didn't even recognize me when he saw me." Karla withdrew the file and handed it to the officer.

Sirens became a crescendo at the end of the block as another cruiser turned onto the street.

The officer read over the notes then slid it back into the envelope and passed it back to Karla. "This is a photocopy."

"Yes, is that a problem?"

"Not necessarily. Just keep this for yourself. I'll sequester a hospital issued printout for my report." The officer paused, glanced at the pale boy and noticed his trembling lower lip. As an afterthought, he nodded and told Karla, "The young man has been through a lot."

"I wouldn't know," said Chance. "I haven't even read my own file yet."

"Well," the officer nodded to the curb. "Both of you have a seat. After all you've been through, kid, you really didn't need this drama today. My wife is a breast cancer survivor. Chemotherapy is tough. You're lucky to still have your hair. We'll tow the car and return it to Avis for you. It's part of a crime scene, now. From the precinct, we'll arrange transportation to wherever you need to go."

"Just..." Karla fidgeted. "The airport. I hate flying anymore. Not sure why. Just do." She glanced over at Chance and said, "I'll suck it up. I wore my big girl britches today, so we're good." She fluffed her skirt with a caddy grin. "See?" She coughed then turned to the officer and said, "Sorry. I uh ... I cope with stress by making a joke about everything."

The officer nodded. "You're still in shock, kid. The reality of being at gunpoint hasn't set in yet. At least you're handling it well."

"Yeah. It was scary."

"Have a seat on the curb while I secure the scene."

Karla walked over to Chance and helped him down to the curb. "Now we wait," she told the boy. "I'll call Methos from the precinct and he'll order tickets for us by credit card. Then we'll pick them up at the airport."

Chance glanced up, staring at the back window of the rental car. He grimaced. He wondered how such a pretty, flirty, and personable girl could kill a man so indiscriminately with no remorse.

He looked back at her. "Sure, Karla. Thanks for getting me out of the hospital before they showed up in my room."

"Sorry to put you through all of this mess but, hey, it just seemed like a good idea to pull over. You sure you don't mind flying west with me?"

Chance offered a weak smile and looked away. He felt perturbed by the attack. At the same time, he felt guilty she put herself in danger for him. "I uh ... well, uhm ... I'm apparently your 'boyfriend' now - at least that's what you told the officer. And, uhm, the Big Apple has been unnerving so far. This has been a lot to take in. People are shooting at me here." He swallowed then afforded her a thin smile. "But you've saved my butt. So ... let's just go back to your place until I figure everything out and start remembering stuff."

"That's the spirit, hon." She put an arm around his shoulders and said, "Hold my hand. Look affectionate. We're supposed to be a couple."

"Oh, uh, right. I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume I don't have a lot of experience with dating."

"That's okay, I told him you hardly remembered me. The hospital hasn't had a chance to document your amnesia but ... hell, it's not like you'd be lying about your memories, right?"

Chance sighed. He interlaced his fingers with hers. The simple act of holding her hand helped dispel the emotions he was bottling.

She offered his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He licked his lips and said, "My stomach is in knots."

"That's nausea from the adrenaline, and lack of solid food in your body. You lightheaded?"

"Very."

Karla cleared her throat aloud and called to the officer. "I hate to be a burden, but ... his blood sugar is really low right now. He hasn't eaten solid food in a while. I don't know the last time he had a feeding tube down his throat, but they had a PICC line in him at some point recently. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important, but I think he needs to eat something. I don't want him to crash."

"Pardon?" The officer turned to face her.

She saw the officer's confused expression and added, "I know someone who is a diabetic. I mean 'crash' figuratively. Chance is feeling faint. He's been through a lot and his blood sugar is probably low. He just needs to eat something."

"Right, I understand." The officer nodded to a delicatessen on the corner. "Get your boyfriend a sandwich or something. Do you need any money, kid?"

Karla smiled inwardly. "No, but I appreciate the offer." She turned back towards Chance and said, "Stay put. I'll just be a minute. Just think how relaxing things will be when you can recline your seat on the plane tonight. It's almost over, I promise."

X

X

Later that night... June 2, 1999, 11:30pm PDT Millbrae, California ...

Karla ran her hands up through her hair then pulled her palms down over her face. "You were right, Chance, that wasn't so bad." She leaned back in the passenger seat with a sigh. "I really need a new fake ID that says I'm twenty-one. I could have used a drink on the plane."

Chance nodded quietly and shifted his weight in the back seat of the car. He glanced from Karla to the man driving. "So, uhm, you're Methos? World's oldest Highlander character? I wonder how old you really are."

The man glanced in the rearview mirror, meeting Chance's gaze, then his eyes panned back to the road. "So, you're Chance? World's most wanted telepath? I wonder how much you're really worth."

"Real nice," Karla murmured.

"If he really is a telepath then he knows," Methos' eyes lifted to the rearview mirror again, "that I'm joking."

Chance ground his molars and cut his gaze to the left. "Do I?"

Karla grinned and looked back at the boy. "Oh, look at you, with the snarky comeback. I'm so proud of you. So the plan is, we go back to Methos' place. He runs some tests, then we take a taxi back to my neighborhood on the other side of the bay."

Methos cut his gaze at Karla then back to the road. "So how are you going to get in if you and Nathanial never use the door?"

"We'll teleport. We did it in the car this morning. I completely landed it, nobody was hurt, and it was amazing. I mean, other than finding a surprise in the back seat. But still, you'd have been proud."

"Mm, glad to hear it. After all, we wouldn't want a repeat of that incident in Philadelphia."

The succubus glared at Methos and folded her arms beneath the swell of her breast. "That was 1943, and I didn't even know I could teleport objects or people at the time. It was an accident. Can we _not_talk about my mistakes in front of company? God."

Methos smiled inwardly. "Luckily it was only one incident, contained to one destroyer, with minimal impact."

Karla frowned, looking uncomfortable with the subject. "Yeah. Until people started writing books about it in the 60's and 70's. Again, can we not talk about that? It's bad enough they made a shitty movie about it in the 80's."

Silence.

Karla huffed and said, "Nevermind. I'm the one who couldn't control myself, and I'm the one who hurt people. It's my complex. I'll deal with it."

"Calm down. It was an accident. I was making light of the situation. I didn't realize, after fifty-six years, you still have an issue with it. You're definitely different than you were before 1907."

"How about we don't talk about _that_either. Part of bettering myself means leaving my old lifestyle where it belongs - in the past." She held her hands up defensively and sighed. "I'm sorry. I just came from flying, okay? My 'emotional intelligence' is through the floor right now. I know I'm being a bitch. I haven't slept in thirty-six hours, and today was a rough day, so do me a favor, would ya? Don't keep feeding the beast, okay?"

Methos continued north into the heart of San Francisco. "Due to the fact that Darius..."

"Don't mention his name," she snapped, and then groaned in frustration. Karla winced at her own outburst. "Sorry. I know, I know. I'm being unreasonable right now. I just need to sleep. Sorry. Go on. I won't interrupt again."

Methos nodded. "Since the Esoteric Council's henchmen are going to try to follow the boy, I'd like to go somewhere neutral. I've set up a rented office space."

No one spoke.

Methos reached over and gave her knee a gentle pat. "I was out of line to bring it up. I'm the one who is sorry, Karla. It never used to bother you until recently."

"Stop talking about it. I told you my 'emotional intelligence' is crap right now, okay?"

"What I mean is," he trailed off, thinking how to choose his words wisely, "if you decide you need a shoulder at some point, I am available. Until that time, I won't bring it up again. And certainly no more jokes. I promise."

"Okay." She turned in her seat and offered Chance a thin smile. "Needless to say, hon, I know what it's like to manifest an ability for the first time, and be at a loss for words over a trail of bodies in your wake. I want you to know, right now, that those men I killed today ... their deaths are not your fault. Not even a little bit."

Chance nodded. He looked back out the window. "Everything is weird."

She reached back and gave his hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "How so, sweetheart?"

"Maybe I have some sort of psychological problem. I went from waking up confused, to being afraid for my life, to feeling confident about everything, to feeling remorseful. I can't even understand what's wrong. Is this some sort of trauma thing?"

Methos cleared his throat, drawing both their attention. "Possibly, young man, but I have another theory. It's most likely empathy."

"Excuse me, sir? Can you explain?"

Methos nodded. "You're feeding off the feelings of people around you. The confidence came from Karla. You probably felt like you had some sort of split-feelings when you saw people dead. Fear mixed with the confidence to keep moving forward. The emotional duality was likely confusing, but, again, the fear was your own; the confidence came from Karla."

"I see."

Methos cut his eye towards Karla, and then he stole a glance at Chance. "And now, you say you're feeling remorse?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"Karla is brooding about the USS Eldridge."

"So much for not bringing it up," she muttered.

Methos continued overtop of her. "It happened a long time ago, it was an_accident_. Her control of teleportation was in its infancy, and it was slow to manifest. She had one occurrence in 1908, then another in 1943, and now she's learned how to master it. That brings me to my next point - it may take a while to learn how to control what you've manifested. Then again, you may learn it in a short time, with focused practice. It's also entirely possible you may stay empathic and only feel people's emotions."

The teenager took a deep breath and sighed. "Okay. So, my remorse for the men who died coming after me today ... that's because I'm picking up on Karla's feelings when you brought up that thing from her past?"

"That's my theory, young man."

Chance furrowed his brows. "Have you consider the possibility that maybe I just feel bad someone died today? You have any theories on that? Look, I don't know any of you people, and I appreciate that you two worked together to rescue me at gunpoint. But can we not just assume things about me? I'd like to figure this out for myself. Please."

"You're right, young man. I'm getting ahead of myself. The possibility of a telepathic person is exciting news. And I want, very much, for you to live up to the hype. The question is, what level of telepathy are you capable of?"

"With all due respect, I am most likely the same level that everyone else is. Because it probably doesn't exist." Chance paused and saw the reflection of the man's eyes in the rearview mirror and sighed. "Sorry. I must be stealing Karla's 'stubborn emotional intelligence' right now."

Karla smirked. "Ha."

Chance frowned. "What I mean to say is that I don't mean to argue." He took a deep breath again, exhaled, drew in another deep breath, and said, "Okay, what are the levels of telepathy?"

"There's what is considered 'legal' telepathy," Methos explained. "A handful of people have that ability and they are allowed to live with it. It means they can sense an incoming punch. They can sometimes duck a sniper round if the gunman isn't too far away. I know one man who is powerful enough to reach for the phone just as it rings. He is also able to sense powerful emotions, like guilt and pride. It's only legal because a perceptive person can see a facial 'tell' with people portraying guilt or pride the same way. That is the extent of their ability and it's considered 'acceptable' because it's akin to precognition. They see something as it's about to happen."

"But, it's only with people, not with objects, right?" Chance asked.

"Correct," said Methos. "It's telepathy related, not pre-cognition. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, I guess. So, they can't sense if a cat is about to knock a book off a shelf because the cat wasn't going to do it intentionally. But if someone is going to call them, they'll reach for the phone just before the first ring. Right?"

Methos nodded firmly. "Yes, exactly. Now, the second classification of telepathy is called 'emotional empathic capability.' Some call these people 'empaths.' That means you can sense emotions of those near you. Especially those you focus on or have an attachment to. It means if someone is consciously lying to you, no matter how practiced their lie, or how good of an actor they are, you'll know. And, so, it's illegal. But you need to know that being an empath can be very dangerous."

Karla unfolded her arms and glanced at Methos. "How so?"

Methos tilted his head. "If the empath doesn't know how to control it, and they were in the room with someone enraged or suicidal, the empath's emotional state of mind would become compromised."

Karla winced. "Oh shit."

Methos nodded in agreement, adding, "Intensely emotional people around the empath could inadvertently override his or her logical reasoning." Methos moved across the lane and took an exit, which lead into a quiet area lined with closed stores. He pulled in adjacent to a library and stopped the car in front of a building with a 'FOR LEASE' sign in the window.

He turned the car off, withdrew the keys, unbuckled his belt, and turned to face Chance in the back seat. "The last classification is the rarest. It borders on mythological. The ability to read minds. It's not like the books or movies claim. You don't hear_people's thoughts. You _perceive them. If that is the case, I don't know how to help you because I've never had the chance to study someone with that ability."

Karla arched her brows. "What? I thought you've been around since dirt was new and God was a boy? You've never sat down with a telepath?"

Methos shrugged. "I've never studied their ability with modern technology. Telepathy is one of the few truly natural human brain advances that is part of natural brain evolution. However, it is rather rare."

Chance frowned. "Rare like a birth defect?"

"No," said Methos. "Rare like ... I can count on two fingers the number of telepaths born in the last century. The frequency may rise in the next twenty-five years because the explosive rise in population. From one billion to almost seven billion in a few decades ... that means we should have two born over the next quarter century, by my math. You're one of the two."

Chance sighed. "So how do I learn to use what I've got ... provided, of course, if this were real?"

"I don't know if you'll need to learn how to distinguish people's thoughts from your own, or if it's something that comes natural." Methos frowned somewhat. "I don't know if there are exercises you can do to increase your proficiency. But the Esoteric Council believes that you are capable of this ability to its fullest extent. And, because of that, they want you eliminated."

"Jesus. You people are crazy. Especially the group with the guns." Chance sighed again.

Methos kept his eyes on the road. "Yes, well, in their opinion, it is safer to kill one person than to allow someone with your ability to tip the balance of power in the political circuit. And even if you had no intention of doing that, there are people who would either corrupt or forcibly use you to have an edge against their enemies. They will kill anyone who stands in their way in order to get their hands on you because it would give them an advantage to overthrow the current administration."

"People would kill each other in order to kidnap me? You really think they'd try and use me to their advantage when I don't even believe this crap is real?"

"Yes, young man. And that's why the Council wants you dead."

Chance rubbed his face and said, "With all due respect, you sent your friend to rescue me because you have the same agenda. Don't you?"

Methos smiled inwardly. "Did you guess that, or did you read that from me?"

"I don't know. I don't even believe it's real. So ... I guessed it."

Methos shook his head. "Young man, do you want to live in a world where people will kill you to hide their secrets? I would rather expose the people who have ulterior motives. I do not want another supernatural civil war like the one that leveled Tunguska in 1908. And the people out there who are secretly vying for power will cause that war unless they're flushed out and exposed."

"Are you sure that's it," Chance asked. "I have a hard time believing you. I mean, I want to believe you."

"Do you?"

Chance shrugged. "What you're saying sounds noble, but I'm looking at your eyes in the rearview mirror. I'm listening to your voice. And I'm just not buying it."

Methos sighed. He looked at Karla then back at Chance. "No point in lying to a telepath, is there? The truth is, I think someone in the EC has decided to look for a set of artifacts that should be left alone. They're hunting for something that has been buried for over ten thousand years and it needs to stay that way."

"...Say what?" Chance crinkled his brow.

Methos continued. "If we can find out who is at the heart of this hunt, I can shut them down. Some secrets are meant to stay buried because they would endanger everyone else."

Karla looked at Methos then back at Chance. "Is he telling the truth, baby-boy?"

Chance glanced at Karla, surprised she would trust him more than her own friend. "I, uh. Yeah. Actually, I think he's telling the truth this time." He licked his lips and added, "But I can't guarantee it. I'm not able to read minds."

"Your word is good enough for me," she said,

Chance frowned. "Karla, I've seen some weird things from you but nothing that can't be done by a street magician. The thing is, if people think I'm telepathic, they're wrong. Maybe I'm just a really perceptive person."

Methos smirked. "Young man, telepathy is a type of perception. I have five senses; you have six."

"Shouldn't that make me less perceptive to what I hear and see? Since I have more, I would be relying less on the others, right?"

"Not in this case." Methos said in a frank tone. "It's true, a blind person can hear and smell better than someone with all five senses. But a perceptive mental ability will enhance what you see and hear. In your case, it's like having a bigger TV so you can see more of the picture."

Chance eyed him in the reflection of the rearview mirror. "I forgot a lot of everything in my life, but it seems to me that a larger TV is stretching the resolution. So it actually distorts the image."

Methos sighed. "Fair enough. Let me choose another metaphor. It's like having a hundred small TV's, each with a crisp picture, all together in a large square block. With more information available to you, you will respond to situations better than normal people or blind people. But what really piques my interest about you is what else is in your file."

Karla withdrew the file copy from her purse. "I photocopied his information and brought it with me. How do you know what's in his file?"

"Nathan told me what will be in it. Obviously he's been speaking to YiaYia," Methos glanced back at Chance and added, "She's our resident oracle," then cut his eyes to Karla.

She remained silent.

Methos parallel parked the sedan in front of a plain building. He shifted out of gear and turned off the engine. "Nathan told me that the cancerous tumor in his brain might be responsible for his telepathic ability. But he also told me that the boy's puberty came with another unexpected surprise. His cells are copying themselves with less degradation than a normal person. So he's going to age slowly. It's possible that his cells will change and become immortal before he reaches twenty- one."

"How slowly?" she asked.

"There's no way to tell this soon." Methos opened the car door and stepped out. "Come inside and let's see what we can learn about you, young man."

Chance stepped out and came around to Karla's side. He lowered his voice and asked her, "I heard Dr. Sokolov telling that man, Darius Vei, the same thing. He said it will take a very long time before I grow old. They even mentioned the word 'immortality'. I wish I wasn't so groggy. I wish I could remember the exact conversation. Still ... immortality? How does that even work?"

"I guess you stay young for a real long time," said Karla. "Basically, you age slowly until you die from something else. In the mean time, you keep dodging bullets, and hope you don't wind up with dementia a hundred years from now. Either that or your cells transition to immortality, we will see after you finish manifesting."

"Oh." He licked his lips. "Dementia, huh?"

She smiled and took his hand. "Sorry, I know. I'm just a ball of sunshine sometimes, huh?" She walked inside with him. "Look, I know you might actually be normal. But there's a good possibility that you can perceive my feelings. And if that's the case, let me be up front with you, hon. I don't want you to think I was resentful, earlier, because of you. First Darius shows his true colors, then Nathan, my roommate, decides to bail. He and I have been best friends for ninety-two years. Then he suddenly says he can't help me, he's not coming home for a while, and claims he's busy. He's hiding something. And in nine decades, he's never kept anything from me, so why would he now?" Karla paused.

"What?"

She wrinkled her nose a bit and said, "I'm rambling like a school girl. I'm rambunctious because I snuck a snack. I was so emotionally exhausted; I needed sex. I'm a succubus, after all. I fed off of a guy I followed into the bathroom after we landed. I get hyper after I get it on. The rush is finally starting to kick in. Must have been delayed because I took something to relax me before we got on the plane." She opened the door for Chance and they stepped into an empty office space. She closed the door behind them.

Methos turned around with a deck of cards in his hand and motioned to a chair. "Sit down, please. Karla, if you want to go out and find something to do until we're finished ... then please feel free to do so."

"Nah. I've already had something to hold me over for a while. I'd like to watch." She dropped down to a recliner in the middle of the empty room and pointed to a nearby love seat. "Have a sit, baby-boy. Relax. This is the fun part." She picked up the top flashcard from a folding table and looked at it. "God, these look like the ones that Bill Murray used in Ghostbusters."

Methos nodded. "Correct; good memory, Karla. The character was checking two students for ESP. That is what I'm going to be doing."

Chance frowned thoughtfully and settled on the short sofa. "I hope there won't be any shock feedback for wrong answers." He afforded Karla with a thin smile. "I guess I remember that movie, too."

"Alright, let's get started." Methos held up a card in his right hand and said, "Clear your mind and tell me the first image that comes into view."

"Nothing."

Methos glanced at the image on the card in his hand. "And now?"

Chance fidgeted. "Uhm. The first image to pop into my head is something circular. Round."

Methos nodded and put the card face down on the table. "It was a yellow circle. Nice start. Okay, next one." He picked up another card. This time, he looked at the image right away. "What am I seeing?"

"Uh."

"Don't think about it. Just react. If you think about it, you overcomplicate it." Methos placed the card face up on the table. It was a black square. "Let's try it fresh. I want you to clear your mind and react as if on instinct. Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Next card." He picked it up from the deck and looked at the image on it. "Don't think, just speak. What am I seeing?"

"Uhm. Something green. Five. Are they all shapes?"

"They're standard Zener cards," said Karla. "If you see five points, it has to be a star."

"Karla, don't interrupt." Methos placed the card face down on the table. "It was a green star." He withdrew another and glanced at the card then looked to the boy. "Well?"

"Circle again? Yellow like before?"

Methos simply put the card face down on the table and picked up another. "Now?"

"It looks like something I saw as we left the hospital. Is it a red plus?"

Methos smiled and placed the card down. "You're doing extraordinarily well."

"Uhm, thanks. Maybe it's because I had a long day but this is exhausting." Chance rubbed his eyes and slumped back on the sofa.

Chance looked back up at Methos, seeing him face to face in decent lighting for the first time since they met. The man looked to be in his thirties. He wore a polo shirt and ironed slacks.

Methos took two cards from the pile, which had a different logo on the back than the first set. Methos, glanced at each then held them up in both hands. "And now, young man?"

Chance frowned and rubbed his face. He stared at the red Bicycle brand design on the backside. "Different decks, huh? I guess that keeps me from counting cards, right?"

"Go on, young man."

Karla stood up and walked around behind Methos, watching over the man's shoulder. "You can do it, babe."

"I, uh ... wavy lines on the left card. A yellow star on the card in your right hand. No offense but I'm getting tired. Dodging bullets, being questioned by the police, the crying baby on the airplane, and now this - I don't mean to complain, I'm just overwhelmed."

Karla, standing behind the man's recliner, said, "Methos, he got them backwards. Why would he get them backwards?"

Methos glanced back at Karla with a slight smirk. "Because I actively thought, in my mind, that I held the lines in my left and star in my right. I lied in my mind. You see, with telepathy, it's easier to construe active thoughts. Only a master can tell what the person is seeing or what they perceive on a subconscious level. And I've only met a true master of telepathy twice in my life. Both lived before the birth of Christ. And both times we met only in passing. I had little time to study them."

Chance's eyes widened. "Wait, how old are you?"

Methos smiled. "Nice try."

"Okay, well, how long have you gone by 'Methos,' sir?"

"You don't have to call me 'sir,' young man. And my current name was suggested to me by Karla's friend, Nathanial." He offered the boy a sly grin. "In early 1908. So if you don't like it, complain to him."

"Uhm..." Chance rubbed his eyes. "Okay. Sorry, I didn't mean to insult you or anything."

Methos glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Karla. He shook his head. "Your new friend is really nervous, isn't he? Bordering on shy. I can only imagine his personality will change as those around him do."

"So we're seeing his actual personality shining through right now?"

"It seems he's not empathizing with either of us at the moment. Excuse me." Methos stood up from his recliner and picked up a Toshiba laptop from his bag in the corner. He carried it over to the folding table table and disconnected the wire from the back of a nearby telephone. He connected the line into the side of his laptop and dialed into the internet.

The computer made some strange noises then logged into the net. Chance tilted his head and stared at the computer. "What's the thing in the side?"

Methos gestured to a flat credit card-sized object in the side of the laptop. The end sticking out had an enlarged section with a modem jack.

Chance tilted his head. "I'm not a mind reader."

Methos smirked. "That remains to be seen. The PCMCIA card in the side has a 56k modem connector port. I'm going to email someone to see what we can find out about Darius Vei. No worries ... I won't let him kill you, young man. I'd like you to learn how to harness your abilities. Then I'd like for you to use them. I won't lie to you and there would be no point in trying..."

"What do you need from me?"

"I'm going to train you to become accomplished with your ability. Then we're going to spy on the Esoteric Council. I've long-suspected them of power playing and dabbling in things that should be left alone. So, you're going to help me prove my suspicions. Then we're going to use you to find out who is amassing the artifacts."

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" asked Karla. "He's a teenaged boy, and he doubts his own potential."

"I'll explain everything later when I have all my facts straight." Methos turned back to Chance and shook his hand. The gentleman leaned forward and whispered into the boy's ear. "Watch yourself with her. She's a real pistol. Don't become too involved, emotionally. She's incapable of monogamy, though not for lack of trying." He released the boy's hand and turned to Karla. "What are your plans now?"

"I never went into this with a plan," she said. "Wing and a prayer, babe. You told me to find the boy and keep him alive. Why am I even still involved?"

"Because we're all in this together. What about Nathanial? Why not take him to meet Nathan?"

Karla sighed then said, "When I told Nathan about Chance, the old man packed up and left town. I have the condo to myself. Why is this boy so important to your plans, huh?"

"It's complicated. I'll explain it later." Methos began typing. Offhandedly, he added, "Just help him practice. Teach him to play games like poker and chess then take him to practice his ability. Like a muscle, the brain grows stronger with practice. Maybe it will help him with his memories, too. Use games like Guess Who and work your way up to thinking games. Entertain his mind. Take him to the movies. Lay low for the next two weeks. If he is still in your care at that time, I'll send you both on your next job."

She huffed softly. Karla ran her hands back through her stark yellow bangs and sighed with a nod. "Okay, fine. I'll teach the kid how to have a good time. Maybe I'll take him down to a casino or two. I hope this mess is important."

"Thank you. This is important, I promise. More important than words can describe."

Karla gathered her purse and stretched. She turned to the teenaged boy and said, "Okay, Chance. Let's go back to my place."

"Okay." The boy shook hands with Methos. He turned and followed Karla out the front door.

Once they were outside, Chance cut a sidelong glance to the succubus and frowned.

"Could you read his mind?"

"I don't know. How would I know if I heard his thoughts or my own, you know?"

"What came to your mind when you guys spoke?" she asked.

Chance shrugged and said, "It seems like he's afraid of something." Chance followed her down the block. He began humming a song.

Karla eyed him as they walked together. "Do you know what you're humming?"

"No. I got the melody stuck in my head a few minutes ago."

"It's a German song. '99 Red Balloons'. It's a grim song." She frowned. "I hope you didn't get that from Methos. I'd hate for him to be pondering the end of the world and not tell us."

Chance swallowed. "Oh." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and pursed his lips together. The voicing in his head changed topic. He cleared his throat and bit his lower lip gently. "I don't remember whether or not I like scalding hot showers ... but I feel like I need one right about now."

"You keep proving it's true. I never mentioned a hot shower. I only thought about it ... actively." The succubus reached over and ran her fingers through his short tousled hair. "I always want a hot shower when I need to relax. It's one of the ways I deal with stress. Hey, we could always take one together."

A tint of blush glowed on the boy's cheeks. "Uhm ... I think I might be too nervous, especially with someone I don't even know. Don't get me wrong, though, you're really pretty. Do you think a hot shower will help my legs? They're killing me right now."

She smiled in reply. "That's because you've not been out of a bed for six months. You're probably running on adrenaline. And yeah, it'll help. I'm getting tired from using my telekinesis to help you keep walking."

"So now what?"

"For the next two weeks, we play board games, like Guess Who and Chess. I teach you poker. We lay low. We go to the movies. And we relax.

"What happens in two weeks?"

"I'm on vacation until my next assignment in two weeks."

"This is what you do for a living?"

"Hey. A girl's gotta pay the mortgage. Some of these people, like Methos, don't want to get their hands dirty. Could you see me working as a barista at a coffee shop? Hell no."

They came to a corner intersection. She flagged down a taxicab with a light on its roof.

"Look at that? Twenty-four hour cab service just went you need it. How perfect is that? And, hey, don't worry. The next two weeks are going to be great. We'll get a Bowflex Power Pro tomorrow, Methos will order in some prescription steroids, and we'll get you back in shape in no time."

"Uhm. Okay."

She took his hand and led him to the taxi's back door.

Chance smiled somewhat. It felt nice to hold her hand. Something about that simple act helped him forget about the day's craziness for a little while.

---

Chapter 3: (https://www.sofurry.com/view/553768)