World of Night

Plans and Revelations

"For fuck's sake Marton!" Dominic's eyes were burning with an angry fire as he finally managed to catch up to the other man. "What in devil's name was that all about?"

"Nothing." Marton growled, not even looking at Dom as he kept on walking. "And you'd better stay out of it."

"How can I stay out of it if there is nothing to stay out of?" Dom asked, grabbing Marton's elbow. Marton spun around, glaring at the smaller man.

"Just stay ou." he hissed, his eyes promising Dominic a slow and painful death should he insist on asking questions.

"No," Dom said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "I won't. And do you want to know why?"

"I don't!" Marton snarled, his ahnds tightening to fists. "Leave me be."

"I'll keep asking you questions," Dom continued as though Marton had not said anything, "Because I like you. You are so full of anger and secrets that they're eating you alive. You said you left Dasvid because je didn't really let you into his life but I think David should have been the one to leave you for exactly the same reason."

"Stop right there." Marton's face was as dark as a thunderstorm. "You have no idea what you are talking about."

"Really?" Dom raised an eyebrow at Marton. "And how would you know that? You are so busy pitying yourself that you don't notice anything else anymore. David may have turned out to be one of these damned Nighties," he gestured at the ground, "But he doesn't deserve to be hurt like this. No one does."

"Stop!" Marton said again, all his anger suddenly evaporated. "Please stop."

"Why are you so scared of not being misunderstood?"

"I'm not." Marton's voice was completely flat."

"Yes you are," Dominic insisted, "And we'll talk this through."

"I can't," Marton shook his head, "I've never talked about this."

"You will learn to," Dom decided, "And some Guiness is always good when a tongue needs to be loosened. Come on, there has to be something like a pub somewhere in this posh neighbourhood."

Silently Marton followed the smaller man down the road, his mind lost in memories he had tried to forget for years.


~***~


General Lee's brows were furrowed in thought. His fingers were tapping a nervous rhythm on the table. Apart from that he had not moved since the reporter and Csokas had left. Csokas. The speed of the drumming increased. It was bad enoug that Monaghan seemed to have escaped from the NIghtworld but Csokas' reappearance was something different altogether. Something worse.

He hated not being prepared for every possible turn of events. Csokas could turn out to be an even greater problem than McKellen had been. With a deep sigh he picked up the phone, dialling a number he had firmly committed to memory.

"Omega Genetics." a voice on the other end of the line said after the first ring.

The conversation waqs short. Not even two minutes later General Lee was staring into empty space again. But this time he was more than irritated. He was seeting with rage. NW-04 had escaped. The rune-speaker had escaped. And all surveillance tapes claimed that Mortensen had been the one to free him.
Growling he dialled another number. Time for plan B.


~***~


A soft red-golden light filtered in through the hazy curtains, filling the room with an unearthly glow. Viggo yawned, stretching his muscles. A soft echo of the wound Sean had healed sang through his body. Sean.
Suddenly he was completely awake, staring at the empty pillow next to him. Where was Sean? Viggo frowned. His nostrils twitched as the caught a heavenly scent.

"You're awake," a gruff voice said from th bedroom door, "I hope you like coffee."

"Coffee?" Viggo smile. "You're an angel Sean.I could kill for a decent coffee." Climbing out of bed he never noticed the shadow that flickered over Sean's face."


~***~


"Don't think I've forgotten why I dragged you here," Dominic said, leaning forward to stare directly into Marton's eyes, "I still want to know why you refuse to let anyone know the real you."

"I don't." Marton sighed, cradling his pint of Guiness tenderly, "I just don't talk about certain things in my past. That doesn't keep people from getting to know me."

"It does," Dom insisted, taking a swig if the bitter brew, "Even if it hurt you only half as much as it seems to, it would still be hurting you enough to make you deny a part of yoour past. Of yourself."

Marton answered by tracing his index finger over the rim of his glass.

Dominic shook his head, forcing himself not to sigh again. "What did General Lee mean when he called you lieutenant?" he asked instead. "And why did he say something about a platoon?"

"I was a Nightseeker once." Marton said flatly.

"You were what?!?" Dominic's eyes were almost bulging out of their sockets. "You're pulling my leg."

"No," Marton shook his head, "I'm not. I was a lieutenant in the Nightseeker army. I had command of a full platoon. I was responsible for forty people." Marton's smiled was incredibly sad.

"What happened?" Dom asked breathlessly. "General Lee mentioned something about you quitting."

"Lieutenant General McKellen happened. They had planned a big attack on the Nightworld city in New Zealand," Marton explained, the words suddenly flowed out him without a stop, "An agent had informed us that some Maori caves were connected to the Nightworld. My brother was in my platoon. I was ordered to lead the attack with my platoon. We were the first to go in. But there weren't only Nightworld people down there, but also monsters and other creatures. Creatures like the worm which attacked you. We had no chance when they came. I asked for backup, told headquarters what was going on, while I watched my men die around me."
Marton's fingers were gripping his glass so tightly, that his knuckles turned a sickly, yellowish white. Dom could hear them cracking.

"All headquartes did was to tell me to get off the fequency. To make room for important messages." Marton smiled bitterly, tears shimmering in his eyes. "They had sent us out to die. We were their forlorn hope. Our only purpose was to cause enoough distraction to allow the rest of our trops to attack from another entrance. We were never meant to survive. Their were only six survivors ansd my brother wasn't among them."

"And McKellen?" Dominic frowned. "You said he was what happened."

"McKellen was in command of the attack," Marton growled, "He was the one who ordered me and my men to attack."

"I see," Dom said slowly, cupping Marton's hands with his own, "What happened afterwards?"

"I deserted." Marton said simply. "There wasn't enough left of my brother to bury him, so I just packed a bag, took my money out of the bank and left New Zealand. Somehow I ended up in London. I was always afraid that they would find me one days," he continued, "Until I found David. Everything seemed so normal after he entered my life." The bitter smile returned to Marton's lips. "And then, one day, they found us and it was Dave they were after. I just couldn't belive it."

"Shit," Dom whispered, smiling weakly.

"Yeah, shit. Every time I think my life is good something or someone comes along and fucks it all up."

"I know the feeling." Dom paused. "Where do we go now? We can't hide in the pub forever."

"What about your family? Would they take us in?"

"I don't think so," Dominic grinned at the bartender, pointing at their empty glasses, "The police saw us at McKellen's house. They're probably looking for us."

Marton frowned. "And you think they'd turn us in."

"I'm afraid so."

"We have enough money left for some youth hostel or other," Marton thought aloud, "We could hide there till tomorrow."

"And after that?" Dom took their beers from the waitress. "What do we do tomorrow?"

"I don't know." Marton stared listlessly at his beer. "But I guess we have till tomorrow morning to think of something."

Dominic nodded, swallowing half his pint in one go. "Let's do that then."


~***~


The employées of Omega Genetics were scurrying through the corridors of the laboratory in a busy frenzy, like the members of an absurdly big, white beehive. Cards and trolley were pushed around, boyes were delivered, cells were readied and even more blood-samples were made ready for their newest experiment. No one knew what exactly had happened, but everyone knew that the lab had received a call from soemone very high up the ranks and that they would get two new subjects soon. They had to get everything ready for their arrival.


~***~


Viggo stopped on his way to the kitchen, leaning casually against the doorframe with a wide smile.
"You even made breakfast."

"Yes." Sean said huskily, nervously wiping his hands on his apron. "I promised you coffee, didn't I?"

"You did indeed." Viggo chuckled, drawing Sean into his arms. He smiled as he felt the other man relaxed after a while. He pressed a kiss to the crown of the other man's hair. "I'm sure it'll taste like heaven."

"Well," Sean stepped out of Viggo's embrace. "We should probably call it lunch, considering what time it is, but I'm glad you like it."

"Coffee, toast and jam," Viggo said, drawing a chair out for Sean, "What more could a man want?"

"Sex?" Sean suggested calmy, grabbing a piece of toast. Viggo stared at him in surprise. Sean quirked an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you going to sit down?"

"Of course." Viggo shook his head. "I was just..." he paused, frowning, "Surprised, I guess. It's strange now that we are actually out of danger..." he trailed off, shrugging awkwardly.

"I know," Sean said simply, passing Viggo the raspberry jam before the other man could ask for it, "But I like you, and not only because you saved my life. I would like to get to know you better. If you don't mind," he added after a while.

"Not at all." Viggo tried to stiffle a yaw, combing his fingers through his hair. "I'd love to stay with you."

"Good." Sean smiled, relief evident on his face. "We have to meet the council of elders in three hours. Is there anything you want to know about them before we go there?"

Viggo nodded, pondering which question to ask first as he swallowed his first bite of toast. He had a lot of questions.


~***~


"Do we really have to?" Karl asked, sighing exasperatedly.

"Yes." David resolutely pushed the doorbell. "We have to talk to Craig and Harry."

"We could go directly to Sean's," Karl suggested. "I want to know if Sean's alright."

"Craig can tell you that as well," David said, pushing the button again, "And you should settle whatever is between you and Harry. For Craig's sake if not for your own."

Karl mumbled something unintelligible. Dave just sighed. Karl was incredibly stubborn. And incorrigible, he added to himself.


~***~


"They're still at the door," Craig said, setting his book aside as the doorbell rang again, "And I don't think Dave's going to leave without speaking to us."
Harry grumbled in response, tightening his hold on Craig's waist. They had slept in, enjoyed a late breakfast and then settled in the living room. Craig had decided to re-read Carpe Jugulum and Harry had been chewing on the end of his pencil and growling at the Times' killer SuDoku for hours now.

The only response Craig had managed to draw from him so far were mumbled growls and randomly uttered numbers between one and nine. Why had he introduced Harry to SoDokus in the first place? He should have seen this coming. Sighing he shook his head. Of course he had not seen it. That would have been too easy.
"Harry, let me up," Craig said, pushing against his lover, "I want to speak to Dave and Karl."

"I almost had it," Harry grumbled, allowing Craig to rise from the sofa they had settled on, "See?" He pointed at the paper. "Two lines make ninety, but one of the sums in the lines has two extra fields outside the lines and because all the sums - with the extra sums included - are 107, I know that the two extra fields have to be seventeen. And seventeen can only be made out of nine and eight." Harry frowned, glaring at the paper. "Now I only have to find out which of the two extra fields is eight and which is nine."

"Thank you for the conversation," Craig said dryly. With another shake of his head he left his lover to his numbers. With a little bit of luck Harry would too absorbed in his sums and numbers to remember insulting Karl.


~***~


"He's back!" Orlando announced, throwing his bag into the nearest corner.

"So I see," Eric muttered dryly. "Since when have you taken to speaking of yourself in the third person?"

"What are you cooking?" Orlando lifted the lids off one of the stemaing pot, frowning as Eric swatted at him. "What have I done?"

"I know you Orl," Eric crossed his arms in front of his chest, stepping defensively between his pots and his lover. "You tend to look with your fingers and mouth."

"I don't." Orlando pouted, mimicking Eric's glare.

"Do."

"Not."

"Do."

"You're being mean."

"No, I'm trying to actually finish cooking a meal for the two of us without you eating half of it before it's done."

Orlando harrumphed, trying to look offended and hurt as he sat down on one of the kitchen chairs." He's back, though." he insisted.

"I know," Eric said, busying himself with stirring what ever he was hiding in the smallest of his pots.

"You know?" Orlando was too surprised to remember that he was trying to acr offended, "How? I thought you wanted to sleep in because you have the night shift?"

"I did." Eric emptied the first pot into the sink, cursing as hot stea, hit his bare arms. "Fucking taters!"

"How do you know?" Orlando insisted.

"Marton told me when he was here last time," Eric sighed. "Remember? You were there as well. He told us that Karl was alive and in London."

"I wasn't talking about him," Orlando eyed the potatoes hungrily. "I meant Sean. He's back."

The pot Eric had been holding clattered to the floor. "Beanie? He's back?"

"Said so," Orlando nodded, "Good thing that pot was already empty."

"When?" Eric's eyes were as wide as saucers. "And where was he so long."

"I heard someone had taken him prisoner." Orlando shrugged, "He's been called to the council."

"When does the council start?" Eric had managed to collect himself and was now filling the rest of their meal into bowls. "We can go there after lunch."

"Which leaves us only an hour to eat," Orlando said regretfully.

"I don't know where you leave all that stuff you eat." Eric shook his head, transferring bowl after bowl to the table.

"But I do." Orlando grinned. "And I know that you enjoy every minute of me spending my energy." Orlando watched in wonder as Eric's face was transformed to a mask of joy by laughter. In his opinion Eric did not laugh often enough.
Grinning he started spooning the steamed vegetables onto his plate. He was planning to need all his extra energy after the council.