HIYA! Welcome to Chapter 15. Well, we've had Church out in the city a bit and he seems to have had some fun. Now it's time to head back to the hotel and see what's in store for him there. Maybe we'll find out why Shawn seems nervous around him. Maybe. I hope you enjoy it!!
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15
Look, pal!
I knew we were getting near the hotel when I felt Shawn again. First, I felt fear, then relief, then anger, then relief, then fear.... I'll put up with this just one more day.' I thought. If you haven't settled down by Monday morning, we are going to have this out.'
I stopped in the lobby to warn the desk of the arrival of my wardrobe, then took an elevator to the suite. I wanted to wash up before going back down for dinner. Shawn was waiting in the sitting room when I unlocked the door. He was standing just outside his room door, facing the suite entrance, with his hands on his hips and a stern look on his face.
"Where have you been?" He demanded.
I felt like a kid being scolded for coming in late, except I wasn't a kid and Shawn wasn't my father. My anger flared. I pointed at Shawn and yelled. "LOOK PAL...!"
He cringed and covered his head with his arms. "PLEASE DON'T!" He cried. His emotions went from annoyed to raw panic in a split second.
I ground my teeth, clamped a lid on my anger, and forced myself to sit on the far end of the couch. He and I needed to come to an understanding or I was gonna lose it. I tried to set the stage for a reasonable discussion between two reasonable people. "Sit down please." I waved to the desk chair by the window.
He relaxed a fraction and uncovered his head but refused to play along. "I'll stand." He said.
I jumped to my feet and roared. "SIT DOWN!"
His panic rose again, but he did as I asked. He whipped the chair around and sat. He slouched, head down and his hands knotted in his lap, like I was an executioner setting up to behead him or something. I sat back down and forced myself to be calm. I took a long minute to think about what I wanted to say. The moment was important. Somehow, I needed to reach passed his fear.
I listened closely to myself as I spoke to make sure I'd left any anger inside my mind and not in my voice. I'd forgotten he could feel it anyway. "Shawn...I am going to explain how it is. You brought me here, so here I am. Your uncle asked me to help, and I said I would. My decision is made. You have two choices. Either you will help me help your uncle, or you won't. I like you. I want to spend time with you. I enjoyed having sex with you, but even if we never do that again, I still want to be around you. If you want to talk about something, if you're afraid of me and we need to figure that out, we are going to do it right now. I refuse to be treated like a rabid dog. I will not be feared, and then nagged. I've said my piece. It's your turn."
"I'm afraid of your power." He said to his lap.
"Why?"
"Because you could kill me with it."
I was a bit surprised by what had been bothering him about my magic. I figured it had something to do with having two powers, or the amount of power I had. Not that those things made me something to fear, but at least they made better sense as reasons to be afraid...to me anyway. I played over what Shawn had said in my head to see what I thought about it. That's fair,' I thought when I'd listened to it again, but meaningless.' I tried to put that idea into perspective for him. I hoped it would help. "Shawn...I could kill you with my hands. So what?"
That at least got his head up. "What do you mean?" He asked, head inclined in confusion.
"I mean, I'm strong enough to kill you with my bare hands. You made it easy for me. Our first night in this suite, when you asked to sleep with me. I could have smothered you with the pillow or strangled you with these." I held up my scarred paws. "If I was feeling really creative, I could have saved a knife from dinner and killed you with that. I'll ask again, so what? You trusted me enough to get in bed with me, now you don't want to be in the same room. How does that make any sense? How does my magic change me from the person who made you feel safe to a monster you're afraid of?"
He lowered his eyes and shook his head very slowly, back and forth, back and forth. "I don't know."
I waited for him to say something else. When he didn't, I felt myself getting angry again. I knew that would only make things worse so I decided to cut our conversation short. I stood up.
"OK...fine. You've got until we see your uncle again to think about it, then, you're in or out. That's it. I'm going down to dinner, then I'm coming back up here with a bottle. If that bothers you, get yourself another room or go home to your apartment. I can get to The HALL on Monday without you."
"But..." he protested without looking at me.
"But what?" I asked. I wanted to scream it, but I was still trying to keep the rage out of my voice. My attempt at control forced the words out as a growl instead of a shout. "Shawn, you can't be my chaperone if you won't come near me. I would think that's pretty fucking obvious."
I went to my bathroom, washed my face and hands, and headed out to dinner. He was still sitting in swirl of muddled emotions, when I left.
Beni greeted me like we'd known each other for years. I ordered another steak and asked him for a bottle for later. As we waited for my meal to be ready, I told him about my discussion with Shawn. Beni praised my restraint and would have advised me to stay the course, except for the rules of the establishment.
I took my time over dinner and enjoyed Beni's company. When I was finished, I wished him a `pleasant evening,' and headed for my room. It was just my cocktail hour as I stepped off the elevator to return to the suite. Outside the door was a small room-service cart with some used dishes neatly stacked on top. I took a drinking glass from the cart and went inside. The sitting room was empty. Shawn and his swirling emotions were hiding in his room.
In my room, stood a gold metal cart with fifteen complete outfits hung on hangers, several pairs of paper-wrapped shoes underneath, and a flat white paper bag propped between the middle two pair. The bag held four sets of lavender pajamas with four pairs of white slipper-socks. The PJs were the Solum equivalent of silk and had a brilliant sheen to them. My new initials, CPI, were embroidered on the pocket of each set.
I flipped through the hanging clothes and approved of everything I saw. I mean, I didn't approve...approval would indicate enough knowledge to have an opinion. I bowed to the authority of Rubi the expert. My pocket beeped as I inspected the last outfit. I wondered how my ID knew I'd flipped the clothes. Another mystery I didn't puzzle over long. I checked the card, saw an invoice for nine-thousand-five-hundred credits and approved it without a second thought. I stuffed the clothes in the wardrobe, pushed the cart out of the suite, and parked it next to the room service cart in the hall. I assumed both would eventually take care of themselves.
I went back to my room, rinsed the drinking glass in the bathroom sink, and stripped to change into a set of my fancy new PJs. When I took my jacket off, the rock I was practicing with earlier fell from the inside pocket. I picked it up with magic. I wonder how fucked up I can get and keep this thing in the air.' I thought. I hovered the rock in the air while I changed, then took me, my bottle and glass, and my new pet rock to the sitting room. I took a seat on the couch and used my palm to bring green numbers up on an end table. I pressed the numbers and the wall became a screen. I flipped channels until I came to a documentary about a factory that made black glass, structural glass' they called it. I filled my glass, floated the rock around next to my right ear, and settled in to wait for the inevitable orgy.
An hour later, everyone in the documentary still had their clothes on, and I had just achieved the glow I was looking for when the door to Shawn's room opened just far enough for him to slip into the sitting room. "Uh, Church." He said, his eyes fixed to the floor.
I paused the show. "What's up?"
"I...uh...I talked to uncle."
"Yes..."
Shawn managed to look very uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "He asked if...he wants to know if..."
I was drunk enough that my patience was thin. I wanted to know what he wanted. I wanted him to say his piece then leave me alone to finish getting drunk. I couldn't take the stammering. I demanded he come to the point. "Shawn, this is the only time of the day I get to feel anything but miserable and you're ruining it. WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
He bucked up enough courage to speak but not enough to drag his eyes off the floor. "Uncle asked if we could come tomorrow instead of Monday."
"And what did you say?" I asked.
"I said we'd come."
"OK, Sunday or Monday makes no difference to me. That means you cost yourself some time. Now instead of two nights and a day to figure out where you stand, you have one night. I suggest you get to it. Goodnight."
"But..." He started to say when I barked at him.
"GOODNIGHT!" I un-paused the show and he left the room without another word.
I pushed him from my mind and drank with renewed purpose. Another hour and a half went by. I was as drunk as I needed to be and everyone on the screen still had their clothes on. Somehow the show had gone from the production of the glass, to its every use in the modern world, to its complete history, and that hadn't prompted anyone to strip. I said, `to hell with it,' and got up to go to bed. I made a stop in the bathroom for a glass of water before I laid down. My friend, the rock, surprised me in the mirror. He was still floating next to my ear.
"Good boy." I said to it and released it for the night.
My five-thirty wake-up call came early. I mean, it came at five-thirty, but five-thirty is pretty early. Not that I wasn't used to hours like that, or even earlier, and it was nice to get up and have somewhere to be and a job to go to. I was nervous, though. At least when I went to work on Earth, I knew what was expected of me. All I knew about my new job was the end result needed to be the destruction of King Pravus. That was a very clear goal with a very vague path; a path that I didn't even know if I could walk.
I dressed in a neon-green untucked shirt, a pastel green jacket and pants, and a pair of neon-green dished heels. By Solum standards, I was dressed conservatively. Dealing with my hair took longer than I was used to, but the added length made my normal technique of toweling it dry and combing it with my fingers, impractical. I brushed it out and let it hang straight. I stuck a green hair tie in my pocket in case I needed it later. I ate breakfast in the bar and at seven I stepped on a bus. At seven-thirty I stepped off at the main gate to The HALL compound.
I showed my `HALL pass' to a self-important, grey-uniformed guard and got directions to Ars' office. The prick guard was less condescending when I called the Steward by his first name. I followed his directions and snickered when my spoken alias made doors appear from smooth walls and made elevators move between floors. The only door my name did not open was the one to Ars' office. I had to knock on that one.
The small man greeted me enthusiastically, pumped my hand, and begged me to sit down. He complimented my new look, said I wore Solum clothes well, and finally got to a subject I needed to talk about. "But, Mister Philips, where is my nephew?" He asked with genuine confusion.
As Ars asked about him, I knew where his nephew was. I could feel him. "He's here." I announced. "We came separately because he thinks I might kill him with my magic. He won't come near me and anytime he senses I'm close, he's afraid. Right now, he's in the parking garage pacing and worrying. He probably planned to get here first to talk to you. Now he knows I'm here and doesn't know what to do about it. I need you to help me convince him I'm not dangerous. If we can't, I need you to assign a new chaperone. I can't work with him like this and his constant fear puts me on edge...which probably makes him fear me more."
Ars set his palms on the edge of his desk and he lowered his eyes into the mound of clutter. "My heart bleeds for that young man." He sighed. "He has not had it easy, but I suppose you already know that."
I stretched my watchband and shook my head. "I know a little." I admitted. "His memories are all in my head, but I haven't dug around in them. It feels wrong, like reading his diary."
"Respectful of you, young man, very respectful. I will tell you what you need to know. Shawn's father," the mention of the man turned the edged of Ars' mouth down, "had no time for him because Shawn is nothing like him. Shawn is very like my sister. Shawn's father is a petty and small man, easily intimidated by powerful or accomplished people. My sister is a first-class telekinetic with an A' rating. Her husband is a fifth-class with a C' rating. There is also our family. The Summas family are a wealthy and powerful clan. He married her for her name and connections, but she did not find that out until it was too late. I knew it. I told her, but she chose to ignore me."
He sighed at the past again. "I brought him here when he was sixteen and coaxed the sad little boy he was then, out of a very thick shell. He did wonderfully well, grew confident, made friends. That lasted until three months ago. A boy Shawn pursued betrayed him. This boy slept with Shawn's closest friends behind Shawn's back. It seems Shawn is blinded by love, like his mother. He was crushed. He begged me for an assignment far away. I sent him to Earth in the hopes that getting away from everything that was familiar to him would help him recover."
Ars shrugged, raised his hands, and dropped them back to the desk with a slap. "Maybe it did, I do not know. As soon as he came back, I shattered him again by telling him the world was ending, then he made the mistake that resulted in your sympathetic link, then he saw your enormous power. I do not think he is actually afraid of you, Mister Philips. I think he is overwhelmed. He is afraid of being hurt again. Since you are the most powerful person around him, and because he felt affection for you and now has a connection with you...that makes you the person most likely to hurt him."
Ars' words brought Shawn into focus for me. His story wasn't the same as mine, but I understood what it was like to be deliberately isolated as a defense mechanism. I stretched my watch, released it, and rubbed the back of my neck with the palm of my left hand. "What can we do?"
Ars raised his hands and slapped them down again. "I will try to talk to him. Maybe I can break through. I did before." He raised his eyes from his desk and his expression changed. I could tell from his face, he was done talking about Shawn. It was back to business. "Can you find your way to room 604? The reason I called you in today, was to meet your teammate and instructor in close combat. He arrived a day early and I saw no reason to leave him idle until tomorrow. His name is Bem Custos. He is waiting for you."
I struggled out of the chair. "I'll find it. Thanks Ars." I said and shook his hand over the desk.
"Have faith, young man." He said.
I nodded and left.