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Sharing Is Caring	By : IcarusComplex Category: 1 through F > Covenant, The Views: 1010 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own or make any money from THE COVENANT or Renny Harlin's little dream world. I just like playing in it.

Chapter List
- 1-Perspective
- 1
Prequel/ explainer for Sharing Is Caring. Deals with an alternate perspective on the movie, shedding light on a few peripheral details. Not absolutely necessary for the rest of the story to make sense, but probably helpful. Thus: The movie from Reese Endore's – an agent of the anti-witch Cabal's – perspective.
Music: 1. More Human Than Human - Rob Zombie || 2. Speeding Cars - Imogen Heap || 3. Sleeping Sickness - City & Colour.

Perspective
Two Weeks Previous

["Harry Potter can kiss my ass!" The Hummer roared off the edge of the cliff into open air.]

Reese’s stomach tingled. It wasn’t exactly unpleasantly but it had been some time since the last event of so distinct a sensation. Reese flattened her hand on her belly with a slight frown.
"I'm sorry your father couldn't be here, honey."
Looking up from her empty plate across the table at her mother through lowered lashes, Reese mimed a shrug. "It’s okay, Mom. He always works the Friday late shift." She rose from the table, thanking the maid who came to clear away the dishes.
"Still..."
The sound of a car pulling up outside drew Reese to the bay windows overlooking the driveway. She pulled the curtain aside and chuckled. Untidy bangs swayed as she tipped her head back at her mother and said ruefully, "Problem solved. There he is."
A tall man in a navy windbreaker unfolded himself from the patrol car by the front gate. He leant down into the open window to speak to the shadowy figure at the wheel. At his hip, the clip on his service weapon glinted in the streetlight, prompting a frown from Reese; it was unhooked. Leaning against the window frame, she tugged a shoulder length braid pensively. Something had happened tonight. It remained to be seen whether her father mentioned anything about it. As he put it, her mother could be… ‘delicate’—and vocal about her disapproval of his insistence on maintaining what she saw as an unnecessary job. They didn’t need the money, she said; it was never about the money, he said. Privately Reese theorised it was about Andrew, and Christian agreed with her. If he’d been younger, Reese knew, Patrolman Gregory Endore might have been Cabal Agent Endore. As things stood, Reese had become Cabal in his stead.
Down in the drive, the police car peeled away and the tall silhouette started up the drive. Reese saw his entry clearly in her mind, just like every other Friday night since she was five. The maid went to the front door and held out a hand for his jacket while he scraped mud off his shoes on a tray on the porch. His hat carefully hung on its hook. Shoes under the coat rack. A quick check of his now-thinning hair in the mirror and a twist on his wedding ring; God above, but her mother had given him grief one night when he came home without it after wrangling a junkie in the holding tank.
Reese opened her eyes as his heavy, steady tread came up the stairs preceded by Haley’s lighter tak-tak-tak.
“Chickpea!” He seemed relieved to see her. Haley made for the kitchen for some hot tea as Reese moved into her father’s open arms. “How’s my girl?” he asked, mimicking Reese’s tug on her braid.
Tall for a girl, Reese still fell a head short of her father: just enough to be picked on by her Cabal partner as ‘Shorty’. “I'm telling you, Dad,” she said, “there's nothing wrong with Spenser." Her father's face bespoke a depressing lack of conviction; he didn’t approve of the Cabal’s assignment, and no amount of explaining the benefits of living on campus would have to the surveillance operation had made a dent. Reese pulled back with a scowl. "We had this conversation, a couple of times, and you were fine with it then."
"And I'm still fine with it, Chickpea. But Reese, these kids... I don't want you doing some of the stuff they do, all right? Things like this party—” He cast a glance over Reese’s head at her mother, and seemed to rethink what he’d been about to say. “They always get out of hand. Somebody always gets hurt... I just don’t want to get out of the car one of these times and find out that it’s you that’s been hurt." Unfolding her from his arms, he pushed her toward the table gently. “Reese, Chickpea, sit down.”
Reese’s mother leant forwards, her lovely face creased with concern. Reese wondered if this would be the start of another family feud.
"Greg, honey, did something happen?" her mother asked.
“Naomi…” Greg scrubbed a hand over his face and sank into a chair, murmuring a thanks to the maid, who had returned with a fragrant tray of covered dishes. He looked at Reese. Brace yourself, the look said. "A kid was found dead in the Dells."
Reese hadn’t sat down. She did so now. Naomi sank back into her chair, mouth hanging open slightly and eyes wide.
Reese coughed to rid her throat of the feeling that a ball of ants had taken up residence there and choked out, "What… what did this kid look like, Dad?"
The ants vacated her throat to tramp up and down her spine.
Her father had already slumped in his chair. "Red hair, long nose, athletic build. Good-looking kid.” Reese couldn’t have interrupted if she wanted to. Her father sucked in a deep breath and said heavily, “Initial identification is Christian Van Diemann. It looked like an overdose. I’m so sorry Chickpea…”
Bile rose in her throat like mercury. "No. You made a mistake. It’s not him—” Her voice was thick, breathy. “I just… I just called him this afternoon. I spoke… I spoke to…” She’d called. He hadn’t answered. She left a message on his answering service. He was already due to be at the bonfire, so she just assumed he has his phone off, or turned down, or left it in the car— Butterflies. She’d called him about the first time she felt butterflies that afternoon, just after the sun went down, wanted to know if he felt something too. He didn’t answer. Too much of a coincidence—
“Chickpea?” Her parents were looking at her in concern. Her father alert, her mother looking closer to a breakdown that Reese was, the Garrick dark eyes wet in her mother’s face.
“I was so worried you were there,” her father was saying.
“Honey?” her mother reached out to her and Reese shied away.
“I…” She had to stop, think. “I have to tell Tony,” she said flatly. She raised her eyes to her father’s. This wasn’t something the other teenager should hear from the Cabal officials; he had to know immediately. “I’ll drive back to Spenser.”
“I’ll take you—”
Her father started out of his seat but Reese shook her head, stepping backward. “No. I brought the bike. I should… I should take it back.” The initial rush of panic was fading leaving a cold, whistling hollowness.
“Honey, I really don’t think you should—”
“It’ll be fine. I just need to get back to Spenser. I have to tell Tony.”
“Chickpea.”
“Dad,” Reese countered in the same tone. “Can we talk about this in the morning?”
Her mother looked between them with worry-lines creased between her brows like cracks in a bowl—or a heart, Reese thought abstractly. “Baby, are you sure, you don’t want your father to drive you back?”
“And how do you propose getting the Suzuki back to Spenser?” The quip felt as rubbery as her legs did. She turned and went for the stairs before they could put their collective foot down, surprising herself by making it all the way there without collapsing to her knees in the process. “I’ll call in the morning. I love you.”
Her leather jacket hung beside her father’s hat in the hallway, her boots beneath them. Overheard, she heard faint words of conversation.
“…scattered when we… cars… locked onto a black Hummer cutting for Marble Head.” Here she caught a whole statement. “One minute it was there and then we hit the cliff—no sign of the thing. A second later, Jesus it sounds crazy, a second later it roared over our heads.” A female gasp. “Sobel tried to tell us it was aircraft warning lights, but—”
Reese tugged her helmet down over her ears, blocking out all sound, and closed the door behind her.

The dorms were as quiet as the road, misty and grey like a scene from a horror movie. Except the bloodbath was already over. Christian was dead. Overdose.
The words strummed through Reese’s head like the revs of the engine all the way back and by the time she pulled into her parking space in the student lots, her hands had gone numb and she was moving on autopilot alone. Everyone was either asleep or not back from the party.
‘Second floor, second floor. No break downs just yet. Second floor.’
Walking up the stairs deep in thought, Reese didn't see the obstacle until she ran into it. Smacking solidly into the person, she jerked backwards and lost her footing on the top step.
The person – being slightly more immovable than she was – was the one who remained standing while Reese pinwheeled backwards. Her heart thudded with a sudden rush of adrenaline. The world popped back into focus like water draining from her ears.
Strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her away from the top of a very long fall. Breathing hard from shock, Reese found herself face-to-face with – and flush against – Reid Garwin.
"Damsel in distress now, Reesey-girl?"
Reese scowled. "Let me go Garwin."
He grinned but didn't release her. "Gladly. Would you like to be dropped down the stairs, or just in general?"
"Not a good time, asshole." She planted a hand against his chest and shoved him away. If she decked him, there’d be hell to pay. Second floor. Second floor. Keep it together. ‘Please just go away…’
Reid smirked and looked her up and down, taking in the tight jeans and unzipped leather jacket. He caught sight of the helmet in her other hand. "Didn't see you at the Bonfire. Go for a ride?"
Reese scowled. "You mean you noticed something other than yourself and the girls you were checking out?" she asked acidly. “And where’s Simms? He finally ditch you?”
"Ah, but you weren't one of the girls, so I noticed your absence," he returned cockily. “And no, he didn’t.”
Reese made a face. "Nice. Suave as ever, Garwin. I'm going to go gag now," she said, pushing past him to continue up the next flight of stairs to Tony’s floor. Then she paused. "Wait, you guys' room isn't on this floor. What the hell are you doing up here?" She spun back to Reid with a confused expression.
"Oh, you interested?"
"I'm hoping for a chance to get you arrested for stalking."
"It's not stalking if she likes it," Reid replied with a cocky grin.
Reese stared at him blankly for a second; her fingers started tingling as sensation returned. Christian, Tony, Hummer, Cabal… "You know what? I don't care right now." She started climbing again.
"Sure you don't need me to follow you in case you fall again?" he called tauntingly.
"Shut up, Garwin."
His laughter followed her up the stairs to Tony’s floor.
Tony answered on the first knock, his sandy hair flattened around his head like a Welsh sheepdog. Reese suddenly found the tears that had refused to come for the first hour flooding her vision as Tony swayed in the open door, took in her outfit, then her face, and rocked back against the doorframe. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Reese, if you had a nightmare about Andrew—”
“Christian. He’s dead.”

Classes had started, and already they were back in the thick of it. As usual.
"Yeah! Dreamcatcher was the shit." A wave of laughter ran through the class. Reese tapped her page with her pen and prayed from a meteor to strike the school. Garwin honestly never shut up, did he? Seated in leftmost corner of the very back row, Reese put another line into the fourth doodle in her notebook and then stopped and stared at it. The doodle looked like… nothing.
"Thank you, Mr. Garwin, but no. My choice is The Shining," said the teacher, cutting across the laughter. Reese flipped to a new page. Thank God for small mercies. Mr. Hoffman got as annoyed as she did, and most days he wouldn't put up with Garwin and his crap for very long either.
Class continued. More quips. More reprimands. The empty seat beside Reese mocked her. Christian would've made class bearable. Christian had been awesome like that. He would have been sitting beside her, whispering little comments, like how Pogue's ears stuck out, or how Reid had more freckles than Pippy Longstockings, but he'd look worse in thigh-highs and a skirt.
Official verdict was out: Van Diemann, Christian P. deceased from narcotic overdose. Never mind that Christian never did drugs. Never mind that he hadn’t been alone in the car but no one had stepped forward to name themselves witness.
There was a memorial service next week. That ought to be… interesting, considering Reese could count on her fingers how many people Christian actually hung around with, and she and Tony were two and four others were Cabal with no connection to Spenser. There’d been a small piece in the morning announcements that day. Something about Psalm 23. ‘Ye, though I walk through the shadow of the Valley of Death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me.’ Lies. Christian had feared evil. Reese feared evil. Moreover, Reese knew evil was here somewhere. And somehow, through all the Cabal’s safeguarding, it had got to Christian. Hell if it was going to get to her and Tony.
Evil. Witches. Wasn’t it the same thing? Reese thought it was. This was their fault: the Cabal’s, and Tony’s and Reese’s. But more than that, it was the witches’.
Overdose. She snorted softly as she leant back in her seat with her jaw tight. Right.

Reese sat at the top of the stairs and watched the students passing the bottom of the stairs on their way to classes. She should be in Biology, but she felt weird... Disconnected. Floaty. Provost Higgins had offered her and Tony the day off; they declined. Or rather, the Cabal contacted them directly and told them to stay put and watch for any unusual behaviour. Tony’d picked up the phone, snapped at the operator that the school was in shock and mourning over the death of a student and what kind of ‘unusual’ behaviour did he expect, and thrown the phone across the room. Reese had sat on his bed picking at loose threads. Tony slumped down beside her, and they stayed like that until the alarm on his phone for first period roused them and they separated in mute empathy.
Reese wished Christian were there; to talk to or even just to be there. She missed him. Everyone missed him. Or at least, Tony and Reese did. 'Everyone' just seemed to think he and his recent death were cool subjects for gossip.
Reese watched a couple of ditzy girls slide by the banisters chattering about the upcoming Fall Fest. Idiots. She dropped her chin onto her hands and tugged the oversized sweater closer to her. Didn’t they know that in the grand scheme of things no one on the world’s five hundred million square kilometres was going to care in ten years what they wore to one stupid high school dance.
The sweater had been Christian's. Only Tony knew that now. It was always the three of them. It should have been the three of them. Christian had been like a brother to her and Tony, especially after Reese’s true brother had died when she was five—in circumstances not unlike those now buzzing through the halls in rumours like a swarm of noxious wasps.
Drowned, the report said. Swimming accident, her father said. Swimming, yes; accident, not so much. The Cabal version was much less succinct: Andrew had been caught in the fall-out of a Power-user fooling around. Wrong place, wrong time.
From Reese’s reconstruction of the night, the User had been on the shore of the lake nearby Ipswich, playing with the molecular structure of the water: the water her brother was swimming in. The lake had gone solid. Andrew hadn't been able to make it to the surface to breathe. Eventually the User had realised and released the Power, allowing Andrew's body to float to the surface. The User then attempted to use the Power to bring him back to life but failed, succeeding only in accessing dangerous amounts of the Power. If the User hadn't died instantly, he would've at least been aged to the point of needing life-support, it was that much Power. But even the Power couldn't resurrect people from the dead.
Reese had felt it from her bed at the Endore house. All of it.
That night was the night she had found out about the Sense. The Sense, the Sensors, and the Cabal – an organisation dedicated to the identification and eradication of witches. As a powerful sensor – powerful, but not the most powerful – the level of Power used had been enough that she even got an impression of what it was being used for. At least, that was what she realised after she finished vomiting from the pain caused by the feeling of Sensing that much Power.
But God, did she miss her brother. He had been like nothing else; her whole family could have died, and she would've dealt with it fine, so long as her brother survived. But he hadn't.
Quiet footsteps sounded behind her, and a student started to descend the stairs, only to pause after a few steps. Reese felt his eyes on her face, seemingly appraising her.
The boy sat down beside her. "Uh, hey. Don’t suppose you want to talk about it?" The voice was low, masculine but open. She looked sideways to find the new boy sitting beside her on the stairs, hair still wet from swimming and tie hanging undone from his collar.
"Do I have to?" Her tone was light. The question wasn’t.
He offered her the boyishly awkward smile that made the freshman sigh and said, "Not if you don't want to. You just looked, I don't know..." He searched for the words. "Introspective? Sad? Lonely? " He shrugged. "You looked like you needed someone to talk to."
She studied him for a moment and then hugged her knees a little tighter. "You're probably right. Didn’t you have swim training?"
Simms shrugged again. "Done. Now we’ve been let loose upon to school to wreak our gremlin-y damage.” He managed not to look to proud of himself at the tiny hiccup of laughter that drew from Reese and propped his arms on his knees. “So, mind if I ask why you're sitting at the top of the stairs looking like a black hole’s opened up in front of you?"
"What if it has?"
"Well… Look, I’ve never lost anyone. But Reid has. And I can tell you what I learnt from watching him."
“Simms, if I needed to know how to pick up girls and cheat at poker, I’d talk to Tony,” Reese said wearily.
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Funny. You want to hear this or not?”
“… sure.”
“It hurts. I get that. But nothing anyone says can make that stop. Only you can decide that you’re going to feel better. So you feel bad for a week. Maybe a month—maybe a year. You feel like you’re lost; like you’ve been spun around so many times you don’t even know which way is up. You’re disoriented but everyone wants you to move anyway. Here’s the advice part: find something to hang on to.
“If you’re spinning out with vertigo, find something to ground yourself. At first you’re still spinning, but slowly, that little bit of stability starts to spread. One day you wake up and maybe it’s safe to put your feet back on the ground. Maybe it’s still too soon to walk on your own, but at least you can stand. Take it from there. A little at a time.”
Reese was staring at Tyler when he looked at her expectantly. “…that may have been the most I’ve ever heard you say at a time.”
“And it was philosophical too,” Tyler teased. “Think I’ll get extra points for that?”
“I think you should be on the debate team instead of the swim team,” Reese replied, equally as amused.
“Nah,” said Tyler. “Tried that. They didn’t like Reid eating all the free muffins.”
Reese laughed. “Just tell them he’s your idiot brother or something.”
“Tried that too. They seem to have something called a ‘school record’.”
“I’ve heard of those,” Reese said, nodding seriously. “Paper thing? Leads to summer camp and college acceptance letter posturing?”
“That’s the one,” agreed Tyler with a failed attempt to smother a laugh. He got to his feet and dusted off his pants. “So, a bunch of us are heading to Nicky’s. Want to come?”
She hesitated. Sons of Ipswich. Strong candidates for witchy badness.
But come on, it was Tyler Simms. Since when was school gossip ever on the money? What were the odds that there actually was fire behind all that old-money-older-blood puff talk about charmed lives and lucky coincidences? The Cabal had looked into them twenty years ago and it hadn’t found a thing…
She then took the offered hand and let herself be pulled to her feet before she could sit there in silence long enough to make Simms double guess himself. “Sure. I could use a break from people I’ve never met telling me they knew Christian soooo well.”

Mechanically Reese got up, dressed and braided her curling morning hair on the way down to the dorm entry hall. She stifled a yawn as the wooden door swung shut behind her. This early, not many students were around; the grounds were all hers. She barely looked at the clock when the alarm went off. Across the room, her snoring roommate grumbled something in her sleep about Stupid AM and buried her head under a pillow. Kira was one of those people who looked almost angelic in her sleep. Less so with her mouth hanging slightly open as she dreamt and her hair exploding out from under the pillow like an overgrown creeper.
Reese’s running shorts felt distinctly shorter in the cold air as she started down the steps. She ran a little faster crossing the parking lot to warm up. Six-fifteen in the morning meant mist, grey light, no direct sun yet. The buildings were shrouded in mist, and the sun failed to penetrate the haze. Spenser was really quite pretty early in the morning, misty and silent: the fairytale morning-after shot from the horror movie of Christian’s death three days earlier. Halfway around the campus, she ran into – guess who? – Garwin and Simms. They hadn't noticed her yet. Not wanting to talk to anyone, she tried to skirt them. No such luck.
"Reesey-girl! Up so early?"
Reese hunched her shoulders, and jogged to a stop. She grudgingly turned back to face the guys. "Apparently."
"Ouch, girl. No need to be so icy. It's cold enough as it is," complained Reid, leaned casually back against a black car.
"Yeah, did you want something?" she asked tiredly.
Reid sucked in his cheeks. "Well..." His eyes raked her body up and down. Reese was suddenly aware that the lycra running shorts and loose white wife-beater left more uncovered than they did covered. But it wasn't Reid she was worried about.
Tyler was looking at her strangely, like he'd never seen her before in his life. Given a lot of the students of Spenser had practically grown up together, as lots of parents had sent their children to the same prestigious pre- and primary schools, that wasn't the case.
She shifted uncomfortably and wrapped her arms across her chest like she was cold, moving her gaze back to Reid. "What, Garwin? Spit it out."
He exhaled and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Good morning."
"Good morning?" she repeated. "That's it?"
Reid gave her a shit-eating grin. "Uh, yeah."
Reese stared at him. "Okay, then...good morning," she said slowly. "Bye." She glanced at Tyler, still eyeing her oddly, and turned to go. "Bye, Tyler."
Reid stood up. "Hey, how come he gets first name basis?" he called after her.
"Cause he isn't an asshole."
"Know that for sure?" shouted the blonde.
"Here's hoping," she called, fading into the mist.
Reid gave a low whistle and clapped Tyler on the shoulder. "Nice going, Baby Boy."

Showered and changed into her uniform, Reese walked the still halls to the cafeteria. The enormous room held a few more students than she had seen around, but only a fraction of the small round tables were occupied, and then only by students in subdued ones or twos. The carpet deadened the sound of her feet as she dumped her bag on a chair at an empty table by the windows and weaved her way to the serving bench. She snagged a tray at random, not caring what was on it.
She registered the heavy impact of a forehead colliding with her shoulder but didn’t say anything. A hand extended from the student-shaped lump leaning on her shoulder and a second plate joined the one already on Reese’s tray. This one held eggs Benedict. Tony must have still been asleep, because he hated Hollandaise sauce.
Not bothering to perk up her eyelids, Reese surveyed the sandy-brown head resting on her shoulder with sleepy eyes. “Your ability to act like you’re actually conscious still amazes me,” she told it.
“Mrph.” Tony’s limp shoulders twitched in a shrug. He was halfway crumpled up just so that he could actually hang his head off her much-lower shoulder. Typical.
Reese shook her head and inched them along the cafeteria bench, adding a glass of apple and blackcurrant juice to her own tray and a bottle of orange to Tony’s. He hated overly-sweet juice; chances were she’d swap the contents of their trays too—she’d noticed that her own held some kind of breakfast wrap, which Tony would eat where he wouldn’t touch eggs Benedict.
She nudged him. “I can’t stand here all day; our table’s all the way over by the window.”
Grudgingly, the head lifted off her shoulder. Once again Reese noted how much effect the last week was having on him as well as her. Under the flat eyebrows that gave him an incongruently serious expression both eye sockets were bruised like he’d been punched, and his complexion was ashy and dull.
The small beauty spot under his left eye twitched as he straightened to his full height and focused bleary green eyes on her. “You look like crap,” he observed.
“Gee, thanks. You’re a picture of attraction yourself.”
Tony’s response was to yawn widely enough that Reese could see his wisdom teeth and stretch his shoulders. She left him to it, tossing a couple of pieces of toast onto the tray and taking it to the counter. The older man operating the till eyed them suspiciously and scratched at his short stubble, but didn’t say anything when Reese flashed her boarder ID. Staff knew most of the boarders well enough by sight not to need authorization; but a habit was a habit—and the Cabal were far twitchier about personnel in restricted areas than Spenser could ever hope to be.
Tony showed his own ID to the man and followed Reese away from the serving area. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. The end of the sentence was muffled as he pressed the back of his hand over another wide yawn. “I meant you look tired, worn out. Wan.”
“ ‘Wan’?” Reese echoed in weary amusement. “Been reading the dictionary again, Tonze?”
He scruffed his fringe up from his forehead and made a face. “Bite me, Short-ass. But seriously: you still not sleeping good?”
Reese looked down at the tray. He was asking about her nightmares again. “It wasn’t an overdose, Tony.”
Her Cabal partner sighed and flipped a small foil packet of butter onto the tray and drawled, "Aw come on, Endore, the police... You gotta let this go. Cabal Agents have determined it an overdose. When the polic finally get around to doing the autopsy, they’ll come to the same conclusion. I love you, and you’re one of the brightest sparks I know, but you’re a Sensor, not a cop. That means if the Power was involved, you might have something, but you don’t—”
“I told you, the Power was involved—” Reese bit off her own protest as Tony laid a hand on her upper arm.
He pulled her gently back to face him. She didn’t want to meet his eyes, but she did it anyway. “No one else felt anything. Miranda hasn’t said anything. You don’t think if she knew something that could help avenge one of her people, she might speak up? Let this go. I mean it,” he insisted, quiet but firm. “For me. I know you’re having trouble with this – I don’t want to deal with it either – but I can’t take much more of this.” His green eyes were unusually serious. “Please, Reese. Just let it go. The Cabal examined the evidence as well; they didn’t find anything either. Sørenssen did the autopsy himself. You read the report same as I did. It was an—”
Reese looked up sharply. "If you say accident, I will kill you," she said quietly. "It wasn't an accident. It wasn't an overdose, and you know it as well as I do, Tony. I don’t give a fuck—” Tony flinched at the profanity; Reese wasn’t usually foul-mouthed. “—what Sørenssen says.”
He exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his ruffled bedhead, forced to look away from her fierce stare. She was clinging to this as desperately as she could manage—but she knew Tony felt exactly the same, somewhere deep inside. He knew the same way she did. The police report was wrong.
“You know it, Tony,” Reese hissed, more subdued now as she remembered they were standing in the middle of the Spenser cafeteria—even dead as it was, they would still be noticed. “You know it like I do. It wasn’t an overdose.”
"Yeah. Yeah, I do," he admitted. He looked up, meeting Reese's brown eyes with his own green. "But Reese, you're not going to get anywhere—”
"I will," she promised, cutting him off. Tony refocused on her, his mouth tight. Reese loosened her own jaw and leant into him. "Tony, I'm going to find out what happened to Christian. I can't leave it like this. We owe him more than that—"
“Reese, he’s dead,” Tony snapped.
She jumped at the harshness of his tone, shrinking away.
Tony’s eyes softened in apology. The hand that had tightened on her arm to almost bruising intensity with his outburst loosened as he coaxed her back towards him. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Reese nodded, her eyes on the carpet. “But Stabler is right,” Tony continued in that same quiet, resigned tone. “You have to let this go. Hanging on like this… Reese, it’s killing me. I don’t sleep, I can barely eat… Christian’s dead. Just leave it at that.”
Reese looked up and from Tony’s start, she knew he was surprised by the tears in the corners of her eyes. Neither of them had actually mourned Christian yet; they hadn’t had time to soften when his death only proved to Reese what the Cabal already suspected: there was a witch at Spenser. “I can’t,” she said simply.
Tony knew he couldn’t win this battle. Not against Reese. He took the easy-out and left it at that. "Just don't get yourself killed. If what you think happened really did, you won't be safe; digging could put you in very real danger." Without another word, he picked up the wrap along with a foil packet of ketchup and the bottle of orange juice and walked out of the cafeteria.
“I know.” The words fell into empty space like dandelion fluff—light and soundless. The implications of her own intent scared the hell out of Reese, but she hadn’t been lying about Christian: there was something else going on, they owed it to him to find out what.
The muted burble of the other students’ morning conversation slowly crept back into her hearing, drowning out the rush of blood in her ears that had risen to a roar in the wake of that short, terse conversation. Shaking her head to clear the buzz, she made her way back to the little table by the window. It seemed larger than before—but maybe that was only the fact that it would be just her sitting at it for another cold morning. No Christian. No Tony.
The rain began just as she sat down. Droplets pattered at the window, veining the glass with silver.
Reese buttered the toast unenthusiastically, giving up entirely on the eggs Benedict, and sipped her juice. The sweetness revived her some but she still felt like week-old roadkill. Tony had no doubt been right: she probably did look like crap. Her sleep had been fractured, but he wouldn’t have known why. He was an Agent, not a Sensor, and a normal human couldn’t have known about the massive power-usage last night, when the feeling had woken Reese in a cold sweat.
‘Or this morning,’ mused the teenager, nibbling absently at the edge of a piece of toast. She hadn’t mentioned it to him because it had slipped her mind, but with his comments about Sørenssen and the Cabal, the incident had leapt back to the front of her mind.
She had shredded the square more than eaten it, and was staring out the window into the rain, thinking, when the chair across from her pulled out. Her brows wrinkled.
Tony wouldn’t have come back so soon so who...? Ah. Blue eyes glinted at her. She sighed and slouched back in her chair.
"Hey Reesey-girl. How are the Ewoks this morning?"
This teeth grating thing was going to drive her dentist nuts. Then again, she could just give up trying... With a sigh, she sat back.
"That's the forest moon of, not the planet itself," she pointed out. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Reid grinned. "Well, Miss Endore, you just looked so lonely that I felt it was my gentlemanly duty to entertain you," he said in a Player's voice, placing a dramatic hand over his heart.
Reese cocked an eyebrow and crossed her arms on the tabletop. "You know, Garwin, if you really wanted to be gentlemanly, you could 'entertain' me by turning around and walking out that door." She nodded to the wide double doors.
Reid hooked his arms behind his head and leant back with his cheeks sucked in cockily, clearly not going anywhere. "I know my ass is hot, but damn, girl. A little bit of subtlety would be good.”
Dropping her head onto her arms, Reese mumbled, "I so don't want to deal with this right now.”
"Yeah, I know what you mean."
Her head shot up at the new voice. Tyler grinned at her apologetically and dropped into the empty chair. To look somewhere – anywhere – else and stop the unwelcome feeling that was a mix of nausea and zero G’s, Reese looked down at her plate. Something missing. Suspicious, she looked up. Yeah, Garwin was eating her second piece of toast.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want this?" he offered, holding out the half-eaten toast. Reese made a face and sat back.
"That's disgusting, Garwin." She scrubbed a hand over her eyes. "Ugh, never mind. I'm not really hungry." She stood and picked up her plate, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "See you in class." She dumped her plate on the dirty-dishes bench and strode out the doors. Reid munched the toast and watched her swinging hips leave the room. A moment later he realised Tyler was watching him.
"What?" he asked defensively, waving the remainder of the toast. The younger boy shook his head and dug into his cereal.

Reese was slouched in her seat half-asleep. She grabbed the same seat in History as she did in English, and consequently had a dark little corner that was often ignored by the teachers and almost isolated from the rest of the students. Perfect for a nap.
"Twelve Amendments were suggested. Ten eventually ratified; called the what, Miss Snider?" Reese's head jerked up off her chest at the sound of the classroom door closing. She blinked sleep from her eyes. Nope, class was still in.
"The Bill of Rights," cooed Kira from her seat on the other side of the classroom, stroking Aaron's hair. Four rows up and over, Reese cocked an eyebrow. Kira wasn't even together with Aaron – well, technically she was, but he didn't act like it, so why should she? – so why did the girl persist in pandering the guy's vanity? Sitting there playing with his hair, anyone would have thought she was his girlfriend. Which was probably the point, mused Reese, not paying any more attention to class than she had when she was asleep.
A small part of Reese admitted that she was probably just jealous of the other girl for having someone who recognized her existence, but the part was silenced by the rest of her psyche, which was busily gagging.
"Arguably the first being the most important," continued Mr. Waugh. "Read it for us, Mr. Simms." Reese sat forwards and propped her head on her hand. Oh goody, one of the 'Sons of Ipswich' was going to entertain them. Down in the centre of the room, Mr. Waugh read the note in his hand, presumably passed to him by whichever little scholarship student had just scurried out of the room. "Mr. Collins, you're wanted in the Provost's Office." The new dark-haired boy who taken up with the Sons looked up, sighed, and left in a flourish of black blazer.
"Mr. Simms?" repeated Mr. Waugh with a note of annoyance. Reese rolled her eyes as Tyler sat forwards and began to read from his textbook in a long-suffering tone.
"The Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of..."
Reese zoned out. Maybe she still had time to catch up on a little sleep? Kira and Aaron had been at it until early that morning; Reese had had to hang out with Tony until the sleeze-ball left, around two in the morning. Thankfully Tony’s roommate was away at an overnight team builder and they passed the night playing cards and recalling pranks from their Cabal training.
Nice as Tyler's voice was, it wasn't worth the boredom of actually listening. In her notebook, the aimless scribbles had turned into furnaces burning her memories of Christian.

It was a Friday night, most students were away from the dorms hanging out at either Nicky's, the movies, or just elsewhere. Reese though...
Reese was in a conveniently forgotten storage room across the hall from her and Kira's room, leaning on the sill of the open window watching the rain fall down. She had picked the lock the year she first came here, and it had been a retreat ever since.
A few drops of rain fell on her face, and she arched into the weather, the cool air soothing. This week had been weird. Really weird. The new guy, Chase, was nice enough, but seemed to be oddly drawn to the 'Sons of Ipswich'. Which was just great, cause really, those guys drove her nuts. They were generally arrogant, annoying, and, in some cases, completely insufferable.
A grinning face appeared in her mind's eye, and Reese blinked. Tyler? Yeah, she liked the guy, but why...argh. Why couldn't life ever be simple?
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement. Someone, two someones, actually, were running along the side of the Main Building, trying to stay low. Reese cocked her head. What the...? The figures stopped in front of the front door, and Reese felt a tingle in her belly. The Power? Were they using the Power? Miranda, the strongest Sensor in the Cabal, had once told her that she felt a buzz every time someone Used. That it was an almost constant feeling for her; but Reese wasn't strong enough to feel such a minor use. Or was the ability developing?
The figures vanished into the building. Reese turned her eyes back to the raining sky, closing her eyes against the falling drops. She'd talk to Miranda about it tomorrow.

Twenty minutes later, the figures emerged, running like bats out of hell. Reese quirked a smile. Where were they going in such a hurry? Before she could wonder any further, her phone rang in her back pocket.

**... You can't be me, I'm a Rockstar! I'm rhyming on the top of a cop car! Got my...**

Reese snatched for the slim phone. Flipping it open, she lifted it to her ear. Tony’d been screwing with her phone again, and there’d be hell to pay later. "Endore.”
The cool voice on the other end seemed affronted by her curt address. As a consequence it was even sharper than usual. "If you have aggression issues, Miss Endore, may I suggest a visit to the counselor,” it said frigidly. Reese could have sworn an icicle broke off in her ear. “In the meantime, Miz Ryan has called a meeting of the Cabal. Your presence is expected in twenty-five minutes."
Reese – not about to apologise, but intending to make an affirmative reply anyway – opened her mouth, but the Cabal receptionist hung up on her.
Her lip curled up, Reese shoved her phone back into her pocket with a curse, closed the window and strode out of the storage room. She crossed the hall at a jog and pushed open her dorm room door. Kira looked up from where she lay on the bed in surprise. So did Aaron.
Reese ignored them, and shoved her laptop into its case. Yanking on her jacket, she slung the shoulder strap over her arm and snatched up her keys and helmet. "Don't make a mess, kids," she shot over her shoulder on the way out.
Taking the stairs two at a time, she turned down the corridor to Room 129. She knocked on the door. No response.
"Tony," she shouted, banging on the wood. "Tony, come on, let's go." Still no response.
Planting her hand on the wood of the door, she shoved it open. She thought the room was empty, and was about to leave, when she noticed a suspiciously large lump under a pile of blankets on the left bed. Walking over to it, she poked hard in the rough vicinity of the lump's ribs. "Wakey wakey, Tony. Miranda called a Cabal meeting."
The lump groaned and sat up. Covers falling down to pool around his hips, Tony blinked blearily up at through foggy green eyes. "Whu—?"
The Sensor grinned. "Yep: wake up time, Tony. Meeting."
He ran a hand over sandy brown spikes of bed-hair sticking out in all directions. "All right, all right. I'm up. Now turn around so I can get dressed. I still sleep naked, you know," he informed her.
Reese grinned, but turned to face the door obligingly. "I've seen you naked before, Tony," she reminded him, listening to the sounds of clothing being riffled through and tugged on. "Lots."
"Yeah, but we were fifteen. And drunk."
Reese shrugged. "Still got nothing I haven't seen before."
When she heard the sound of a zip, she decided it was safe to turn around.
Her Cabal partner stood with a shocked look on his face, shirt in hand. "When have you seen that before?" he demanded.
Reese propped a hand on her hip. "Wouldn't you like to know," she teased. Giving him time enough to pull on a pair of boots, she grabbed his jacket and yanked him out the door. "Come on, boy. We gotta go."

Gossip around the school the next day was that the second 'Son of Ipswich', Parry, had had an accident. Reese was divided over this news. Pogue was generally an okay guy, but like Garwin he sometimes had an air of arrogance and self-assurance floating around him like a miasma, and she often found him just as aggravating as Garwin. Come the next morning, she had dismissed it. The memorial service for Christian was drawing close—and the actual funeral hung over her like a death threat. She wasn’t ready to let him go…

Tonight was the Fall Fest. Reese collapsed onto her bed and watched Kira slid into a tasteless pink monstrosity. At least it was a nice shade of pink, she reasoned.
"How do I look?" asked Kira, ignoring for the time being that Reese and her didn't get along all that well in her desire for praise. Like cats and dogs in a wet hessian sack, in fact.
"Like a meringue." Kira frowned. Reese threw up her hands. "All right. The dress is horrible, the colour is ...okay... and somehow, you've managed to pull it off. You look good. Okay, Kira?" The other girl seemed satisfied, and bustled primly from the room.
Her roommate safely gone, Reese rose and began to get ready for the assignment the Cabal had given her. She stripped off her jeans and walked to the cupboard for a new shirt.
The nausea hit twenty minutes later. Reese stumbled to the bathroom heaving. Somebody was using big-time. Pain ripped through her, and she curled in on herself, holding her ribs. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Damn the Power, damn the users, damn the fucking Sense! It felt like every fiber of her being was on fire. Another wave of pain crashed into her, and she writhed, arching off the tiled floor.
There was nothing that could make this worth it. Nothing in the world.
Reese moaned as pain lapped at her nerves, crisping her skin, flaying her alive. She screamed, clenching her fists. Her nails – short for Cabal work – bit into her palms and carved out bloody crescents.
Minutes later, or maybe hours, tide of pain receded perceptibly, just when she thought she would black out and be glad of it. For a moment she just lay there, chest heaving, terrified to move lest it come back. Then slowly, very slowly, she uncurled from the foetal position, muttering curses. She panted, rolling flat onto her back. Whew. Maybe that was it.
Shakily, she ran her fingers through her sweaty hair, and reached up to flush the toilet. She fell gratefully back to the floor, the wonderfully cool floor. It felt good against her bare legs, and her back where her shirt had ridden up.
Then it hit. A wave of agony like nothing before.
Blank to everything but the pain, she screeched until her eardrums felt like they were bursting inside her head, clawing at her arms, trying to put out the blazing inferno scorching her veins, roaring beneath her skin. Her head smacked repeatedly against the floor and streaks of lighting arced away from points behind her eyes in blinding flashes. ‘Don’t pass out! Don’t pass out!’ If she did she might not wake up…
Her flesh was torn from her bones in bloody shreds. Her body was burning, was crumbling to ash.
Reese screamed in agony and gave up to the welcoming blackness that poured in from all around her.

She woke up in the infirmary, bandaged from fingertips to bicep. Semi-coarse fabric chafed uncomfortably at her skin. Wincing, she hissed in a sharp breath as they caught on something and tugged. Chastened, she lay still and looked groggily around. She was definitely in the infirmary, not wearing her own clothes, her hair felt like it was in a low ponytail, and she felt like death warmed up.
A matronly woman bustled into the room, and noticed that she was awake. "How are you feeling dear?" she asked kindly.
Reese coughed. Her throat was parched. "Like crap," she croaked. "Ruth…"
The woman shushed her. "Don't speak dear. I'll get you some water." She held a cup to Reese's lips. The teen drank gratefully. When she had enough, she pulled away, and the nurse placed the cup on the low table beside the bed. "Better?" Reese nodded. The nurse straightened and brushed down her dress, pursing her lips. "Good. You were in quite a bad way when he brought you in here."
Reese raised a tired eyebrow. "He?" she rasped, as loud as she could. Any more, and she had a feeling her throat would actually ignite into flames.
The nurse nodded primly. "Mr. Garwin brought you down." She pinked a bit. "Quite a pretty picture it was too, you asleep in his arms, and him all protective like."
Reese stared at her. Protective? Reid? Pfft, right whatever. Tony, she assumed, must have been at the Cabal meeting like she was supposed to be. He would probably show up later, but… "Reid? Reid brought me in?"
"So you do know my first name," declared a triumphant voice from the doorway. Hands hooked in his pockets, Reid was leaning against the doorframe, grinning at her. Reese frowned, and opened her mouth to speak only to be wracked by a coughing fit. The nurse leapt for the water and gave her enough to soothe the cough. When Reese could breathe normally, Ruth straightened again, eyeing her with concern. Apparently reluctant to leave the room, she was nonetheless called away to her office by a ringing phone. She left in a crinkle of starched skirts, shooting Reid a short narrow-eyed look that promised dire retribution if he harassed her patient. Reid appeared unfazed.
Reese closed her eyes and dropped her head back to the pillow. "Course I know your name. I just don't use it cause you're an asshole," she said, voice hoarse. "I heard you were the one that brought me in." He shrugged carelessly. "Want to tell me how that happened?" she asked, opening her eyes and looking steadily at him.
"Came back from the Fall Fest and heard Kira scream. Like, shocked-scared scream. Of course, anything that scares that bitch has got to be good... plus I wanted to see what had her so worked up. Got to your floor and found her sitting in the doorway, staring at the bathroom still screaming. Guess she thought you were dead or something. Hell, you looked like you were dead…" Reese swallowed, remembering the sensations before she had passed out.
Reid ambled into the room and sat down on the other bed. "You weren't a pretty sight, Reesey-girl. You were passed out cold on the floor, vomit on your shirt, blood all over the tiles and pretty much all over you; your arms were practically flayed..." He stopped, and cocked his head. "What the hell happened, Reese? I actually had to carry you out here - by the way girl, damn you need to lose some weight—" Reese coloured. She knew she was skinny, and Reid's taunt was a knee-jerk reaction, but still... “—and you scared the fuck out of everyone who saw you."
Reese gave a one-armed shrug. "I don't know what happened. Nothing I'd care to repeat." The glowing digits on the digital clock across the room caught her eye. One thirty PM. "Jesus. Have I seriously been asleep for nineteen hours?" she asked, shocked.
Reid barked a laugh. "Nineteen hours? Baby, it's Wednesday. You've been out for almost four days."
"Say what?" she yelped, and struggled to sit up.
"Woah, hey," he jumped up and planted his hands on her shoulders, pushing her down again. "Nurse'll have my balls if you're up before she says so."
Reese lay down in defeat. She gave a tired laugh. "She tell you that?"
He grinned and relaxed back onto the other bed. "Nah, I can just tell." The smile died a little. "So the cops still aren’t done with the autopsy, but they’re sticking with their initial assessment. You know, for your guy friend. You know, everyone's worried about you."
Reese snorted. "Who's 'everyone'? You, Tony and a couple of teachers?"
Reid propped his elbows on his knees. "Them too. But nah, I mean everyone. Teachers, the students who actually know what was going on, your other guy friend – hell, even Baby Boy cracked the shits."
"Uh huh. Right. With who?"
Reid sat back. "Pretty much everyone. He's been sulking for the past five days."
Reese blinked. "Didn't know he'd give a damn."
Reid shrugged, leaning back on his arms. "Neither did I, but hey, like I said: sulking. Wouldn't talk to anyone, acted like a pissy bitch the whole time...yeah. Sulking." His jaw twitched. "Not surprising. You looked like hell."
"Urgh, don't remind me. Half the school probably thinks I'm a cutter or something, now."
Reid grinned, blue eyes sparkling. "I think you pretty much skipped 'Cutter' and went straight to 'Suicidal Crazy Bitch'."
Reese snorted. "Wonderful."
"Ah, don't worry. We'll keep you around long enough for it to blow over."
" 'We'?" Reese asked with the quirk of a dark eyebrow.
"Yeah, well. We've pretty much decided that you're a danger to yourself, so we're gonna hang around you for a while."
" 'We' as you, yourself and the voices in your head?" she teased.
Reid looked affronted. "No," he replied. "Me and Baby Boy. We've decided you need an escort."
Reese restrained a smile. "For what?"
"To hold back those 'tendencies' you got," replied Reid comfortably.
"Ah. And is this 'we - you and Tyler' or 'we - you with Tyler following'?"
"Why?" He leant forward with a curious gleam in his eye.
Reese swatted at his arm, scowling half-heartedly. "Stop fishing. Just wondering is all." She sank into the pillows.
"It's both of us, all right?" said Reid after a moment.
A dark eye opened. “Wait, you were serious? You're honestly going to follow me around for however long?"
"However long," he confirmed. "Cause seriously, them 'cuts' you got there?" He nodded to her linen wrapped arms. "They're pretty damn scary."
"Uh huh. So I guess this is my chance to get you arrested for stalking, huh?"
"Guess so." There was a pause. "But you won't, cause you're dying to get in my pants."
"God be good—you know, at some point you're going to have to accept the fact that not everybody's hot for you. And besides," a sly grin slid across her lips. "You're the one stalking me."
Reid gaped for a moment, then recovered. "Yeah, but I'm just giving you the opportunity to make your move."
Reese rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever, Garwin."
"Geez. We're back to last names? I thought we were past this."
She shook her head with a wide grin. "Nope. Sucks to be you."
His eyes darkened, and he leant forward. "On that note, I was thinking..."
Reese scowled and punched him for real, wincing at the spike of pain that shot up her arm. "Don't even go there, Garwin."
He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay already. I won't."
"Damn straight you won't," she growled, flopping down again.
"Although..."
"Garwin!"

Reid had just left when a well-groomed young man in a sleek grey suit slunk into the room and sat down. She knew him: he was an Agent from the Administrative department, Corey something. Or something Corey?
Propped up on a couple of pillows, Reese opened her eyes and looked up at him in surprise. It wasn’t like the Cabal to send a flunky – or maybe something had happened to Tony too. It wasn’t likely, given he was just an Agent, not a Sensor, but still… Or maybe Corey was here out of the goodness of his heart – or his superiors’. There were a couple of Elders Reese was fairly friendly with who wouldn’t deign to come themselves but might send a subordinate to carry positive tidings of her condition back to them.
She frowned, trying to suppress the flood of questions and speculations whirling around her brain and keep a calm head. A thousand questions beat behind her eyes, begging for words, making her head hurt.
She bit them back and waited silently, as her training dictated for when interacting with a more senior Cabal member. After a few minutes of silent regard, he still hadn’t said a word. Reese decided to nudge things along. “Hello. Can I help you with something, Agent…?”
"Corey. James Corey. Ms Endore, the Cabal..."
"Yes? Agent Corey, if there’s something up with—” She paused to correct her speech. “If there is something wrong with the Cabal, I’d like to know now. And where’s Tony—Cadet Fitzgerald? Gods, please don’t tell me something happened to him too—"
Corey lifted a neat, square hand to his mouth and ran his fingers over his lips as though stoppering his words while he attempted to marshal them into cohesion and Reese quieted.
If this was official business, what could be so serious it couldn’t wait until she could at least make the journey to Cabal-controlled and –monitored turf? To somewhere they had no need of marking their words for anything that could be overheard by unauthorised ears? In his silence, she looked down at her arms, studying the bandages. And then it clicked.
The Cabal. Tony’s absence. Corey’s visit her in the here of all places… "Oh gods," she breathed. "Miranda..."
"Ms. Ryan is deceased," he said flatly. “She died the same night you and forty of our other most powerful Sensors internationally suffered episodes. You’re one of the last ones to wake up—although the others didn’t inflict so much damage on themselves,” he added uncertainly, gesturing to her linen-swathed arms.
Self-consciously, Reese folded them and hugged them to her chest, looking down at the thick waffle weave of the blanket. She was silent. The thousand questions had gone silent, leaving only one. "Wait, wouldn't that make me..."
"The most powerful Sensor we have.” He was looking down at her gravely now, standing at the foot of the bed with his hands folded neatly behind him like he couldn’t bear the thought of accidentally touching her. The accusation in his hazel eyes hurt her head and made her eyes sting. Her temples throbbed sharply. She blinked away tears and forced herself to look at him.
“The head of the Cabal,” he was saying. “Or the active wing of it, in any case.”
Reese found she couldn't meet the intensity of his eyes. She looked down at the bedspread. Why now?
Because now is the time this happened, whispered a voice in her mind. Now is the time it was always going to happen, and you knew it, the voice hissed.
"Agent Corey, there must be some mistake. I can't... I'm not... I don't know how."
"The Cabal is confidant you will find a way.” He said it with the calm assurance of absolute faith.
The simple sound of that blind loyalty made Reese sick to her stomach. This was all going so wrong. She couldn’t do this… But she didn’t have a choice.
She worked her jaw for a long moment and then looked up. "I hope you're right. I really do. Because otherwise the Cabal's going to crash and burn faster than Apollo Thirteen."

______________________________________________________
All still with me? Maybe?
Yes, this story has been previously posted. Yes, this is the same writer, different account. I'll be making a few changes to early chapters as I go along re-posting too, to include, you know, mourning, which I noticed was rather mysteriously absent from the first version.
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