Chapter 3

She stared at me. Just... stared at me. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she said something truly profound: "What?"

"You can see why it might be best if we discussed this in more private surroundings, yes?" I received a slight nod. "Yes. Wonderful. Can my release be streamlined? From what I overheard while listening to the nurses, my only problem for the last couple of weeks is that I wouldn't wake up. I'm awake now and not really in the mood for tests. I've felt like I'm in the process of losing my mind since I woke up last night, and I really want to talk to you about all this." The stress was starting to get to me and I could feel my hands begin to shake.

I could feel a flash of concern from her as she felt me begin to shake, but I'm sure she knew that it was just a reaction to the adrenaline. She stroked my cheek as she withdrew from my embrace. "I'll take care of it, Nate." She began to walk towards the door. She paused, just before leaving the room, and turned to me again. "Nate, I love you. Please tell me you're still sane."

"As sane as I ever was, sweetheart. But you know how I feel about sanity and normalcy." She grinned right back at me and left the room with bounce in her step, her worry soothed and her hips swaying. I wish my own worries were so easily checked, but her swaying hips certainly distracted me from them for a moment.

Before I could even relax, a man strolled into the room as if he owned it. He was wearing scrubs but no coat so I wasn't sure if he was a doctor or another nurse. I'm not sure it really matters, but, in my experience, most doctors have a slightly more aloof manner than most nurses. There are exceptions of course, but I've always been more comfortable around nurses. This guy was putting my back up a bit so I assumed he was a doctor.

He finally turned to me. "Okay, let's have that gown off of you." His tone was the very definition of brisk.

"You've got some of my clothes?" I was just asking for the hell of it, I wasn't going to argue with the man. As I pulled the gown over my head, I felt a small twinge of lust and that did give me pause. I froze with gown bunched around my chest and shoulders as I tried to catch the eyes of the man who was staring avidly at my now, thankfully, flaccid penis. "Ummmm. Excuse me?"

The man quickly shook his head and then smiled at me. Oily. That's the only way I can describe the man's smile: oily.

"Alright," he said, "looks like Johnny gets to play with something pretty this time. Sorry for not moving fast enough, but you, sir, are a very pretty young thing." As he spoke he stripped off his shirt and tried to press himself against me.

As an interesting side note: do you want to guess what bothered me the most about this situation? It wasn't that this doctor/nurse/whatever was coming on to me, not that he was getting much too grabby for anyone to comfortable with, man or woman, hetero or homosexual, and not that he had just licked the side of my face. It was the fact that this was the second man, in less than thirty minutes, to have called me 'pretty'. I don't know why, but being called 'pretty' got under my skin and bugged the hell out of me. I didn't even want women thinking I was pretty. Again, I don't know why, but it bothered me. I was actually starting to miss my scars.

But back to the man who had just wrapped his hand around my dick.

Very firmly, I grabbed his wrist, and located the pressure points along the wrist and forearm that control gripping power. I squeezed just hard enough to make his hand go limp and I pulled his hand off of me. I quickly disengaged and rolled backwards, doing a flip to put the bed between me and him. I tried to speak but I was at such a loss as to where I should start my mouth just flopped around like a fish's out of water.

Before I could muster a response, the man started yelling at me, his face flushed with anger. He was going on about how if I had problem with 'Humes', I should tell the doctor and then no one would have to be subjected to my 'fuckin' foul' prejudice. On and on he went, all along that vein. Now I was really at a loss. When he finally paused for breath I tried to interject: "Ummm." I sort of raised my hand, half placating and half as if requesting permission to speak.

"What, you asshole?!" He was still screaming.

"Okay. Thanks. Now... what the fuck is all this about?" I wanted to see if he could actually speak rationally, or if he was just going to keep screaming.

"I come in here, ready to do my job and actually looking forward to it for once when the stupid Gifted superiority complex rears its head yet again! That's what fucking happened you son of a bitch! I'm gonna lodge complaint against you! The Caines will never touch your worthless ass again, bitch!" He was still screaming, but I could follow what was going on a bit better.

"What is your job?" This was central to my understanding and I just couldn't figure it out. An observer of the situation might have been able to get it and it seems obvious to me now, but right then I couldn't figure it out.

"What?" Now he sounded almost as puzzled as I felt. And he wasn't screaming anymore.

"Your job. What is it?" I spoke slowly to make sure he understood me.

"I'm in charge of relieving the occupants of this floor." I hadn't thought it was possible, but his brow furrowed even more.

"Relieving?" I was right at the edge of understanding but...

"Getting them off, you know, giving them orgasms." At least he was calmer now.

"This is normal?"

"Sure, standard procedure for all healthcare centers."

"I've been in plenty of 'healthcare centers' and I assure you, that is not standard procedure."

"But you're Gifted." Now he was really confused.

"As of a few weeks ago, and I've been in a coma the entire time. Plus, I don't mean to insult you, but I have absolutely no interest in men."

"Really?" He seemed very surprised, but I suppose that I didn't look like a person that had just awoken from a coma. "Without exception, male Gifted are bisexual. You're really only heterosexual?" Okay, so I made assumptions about his credulity and its direction.

"I'm absolutely certain. I'm actually with the woman that's been staying in this room with me."

"But Ms. Caine is gay. Famously gay. It was a huge scandal when she refused to be mated. And you're telling me she's with you. Please. I don't care what you say, I'm filing that complaint." With that he stormed out of my room.

"Mated? That doesn't sound good at all." I was muttering absently as I scrounged through the closet and drawers in search of some clothes. What my molester said finally started to sink in, but I just filed it away to process. Megan had brought along a pair of old sweat pants and an equally old t-shirt. I slipped them on and had a little chuckle over how they fit me now: the sweats only reached mid-calf and the shirt clung on me like a second skin.

I sat down on the bed and thought back over all my interactions with Megan over the two years I had known her. Actually, if she was gay, with at least one rather obvious exception, it would explain a lot of those odd comments. But I figured it wasn't really an issue. She loves me so what the fuck. So long as she was with me I didn't really care. If she wanted to tell me about it she could, but in her own time.

Aren't I the perfect boyfriend? Thank you. I work at it. It looked like I had even solved the age gap: we both looked to be in our early to mid rwenties.

It was almost an hour later when I began to feel a riot of emotion from below. I had begun to worry about Megan and what was taking her so long, but I figured there was just a lot of paperwork. I should have realized that, as her family owned the hospital, there would only be as much paperwork as she wanted.

When I began feeling the emotional turmoil stirring downstairs, I turned my mind to Megan. Almost immediately, it was if she was in the room with me again. I could feel her fear and hatred. Fear and hatred. Like I've said before, I can take a hint.

The only time I've ever felt hatred from Megan is when she is in the presence of her brother.

I was moving so fast that I didn't even notice breaking the door down. I was down the hall and at the stairs before my door finally collided with the opposite wall. I leapt whole flights pf stairs in my rush to zero in on my connection with Megan. She was feeling pain now, someone had hit her. I moved faster.

Suddenly, I left the stairs and was moving amongst people again. It was as if the world was standing still as I sprinted through the corridor towards Megan. I reached an open area that looked a lot like a hotel lobby and there, across the room, was Megan. Her brother was there too, dragging her by the hair towards the doors, screaming at her. He was accompanied by six very professional looking men with guns.

My life was moving in odd directions, from amusing to terrifying, but at least it was all consistently surreal.

I had yet to have a coherent thought since I felt Megan to be in danger, and now my vision started to take on a red tinge. Considering I was about to try and take on seven men, six with guns, one Gifted, and with the distinct possibility that the six men with guns were Gifted as well, it was a very bad time to let my temper get the best of me.

I didn't slow down as I took in the situation and I was in the middle of the group before they knew I was in the room. I made my presence known quite firmly. I punched Michael in the throat and felt the bones give under the pressure of my knuckles, creating a resounding crunch. The men were slowly turning their guns toward me when I took the first one of them down with a double palm blow that sent him flying a good 15 feet. The fastest of them got a shot off, hitting me high in the left shoulder, staggering me. I felt no pain.

I sent a right hook to my shooter's jaw and down he went. I felt the barrel of a gun in the middle of my back so I dropped my body into a high spinning hook kick, hitting the gun's owner in the temple with my heel. He had still gotten a shot off, but he only grazed me. And then there were four.

I didn't want to risk killing them so I switched from striking to Hap Ki Do grappling. If you're wondering what that means, think of it like this: in Tae Kwon Do and Karate, you strike your opponent with hands, feet, elbows, and knees. In Judo, you use your opponent's power against them and put them on the ground with throws and sweeps. In Aikido and, to a degree, in Jujitsu, you use pressure on joints to control your opponent's movement. In Hap Ki Do, you take the limbs your opponent exposes to you and you break them. Simple as that and nothing more: you break your opponent.

I caught one's kick, held onto the foot and twisted as I dropped to the ground. I tore his knee and hip from their sockets. While I was on the ground, another tried to stomp on my balls, but I kicked his supporting knee, dislodging his kneecap, and kicked him in the head as he fell. I rolled to my feet, right into a jab. I couldn't dodge so I took it on my forehead, breaking the boxer's hand but cutting me. I dodged his follow-up cross, caught his arm at the wrist, jerked his arm to full extension, and twisted, dislocating everything from wrist to shoulder. I sent an uppercut into his solar plexus as he collapsed.

I turned to find the last one had what looked like an Uzi trained on my abdomen. I rolled to the man with a dislocated knee and hip (he was closest) and used him as a shield as the final man emptied most of his clip at me. My shield took most of the damage, but I had few bullets in my abdomen and leg. I scrambled towards the last man as he expelled the used clip from the submachine gun. I got to him before he could reload, but he just grinned at me and raised his empty hand, palm towards me. I felt this incredible pulse of air come racing towards me from his palm. Injured as I was, I couldn't dodge, but for the first time I saw my own shadow. It raised its arms as if gathering in the pulse of air, and then it flung its arms back at my opponent's shadow.

What the fuck. I didn't see a better course of action so I mimicked my shadow's movements. I felt the pulse of air as it was about to strike me, but instead of feeling the impact I expected, I seemed to absorb it. I felt full to the point of bursting and I instinctively knew I had to get rid of the kinetic energy somehow. In desperation I willed it towards the now shocked man and waved my hands at him imitating my previous double palm blow. I felt the energy rush out of me and strike my opponent, throwing him the length of the room.

I quickly turned and caught Michael's fist before it could impact the back of my head. I held his fist in my hand and squeezed, sending him to his knees and tearing a whimper from his lips. I leaned down and glared into his eyes.

"I told you, Michael. The first time, I'd cripple those you send. Do it again and I'll cripple you." I think he pissed himself, but the blood from the gash in my forehead was getting in my eyes and its scent filled my nose. I released him and let the giant run out of the building.

"Oh, Nate." That was Megan. I turned to her and watched as she slowly picked her way over the scattered bodies until she was right in front of me. She opened her arms and that was all the invitation I needed. I collapsed, her arms the only things supporting me.

I watched as the hospital staff scrambled to stabilize my victims. Goddamn. Let me tell you, fights are a whole hell of a lot easier when you see exactly what your opponents are going to do before they do it. Hell of a lot easier. Goddamn.

It was maybe a minute later and I was feeling much better when I heard something metallic strike the ground. I stood and looked down only to see a twisted metal slug. As I was looking down, I saw ten more pushed out of my body and the entrance/exit wounds close over without so much as a scar.

"Goddamn. Would you look at that." I raised my slack-jawed face to Megan's jubilant visage.

"Yeah," she said. "My man." She gave me such a kiss that I forgot my own name for a while. But even the kiss induced euphoria couldn't make me forget how tired I was. I just wanted to hold on to her for a minute. A minute and I could have faced the new reality of my life, but that minute was denied to me. I was starting to get pissed off.

It couldn't have been thirty seconds after our kiss when I simultaneously felt Megan stiffen in my arms and felt a powerful presence approach me from behind. I opened up my mind to gather in Megan's emotions and I got a mix of love, worry, anticipation, and embarrassment. All that the man behind me was emitting was a level of confidence that could only be matched by a deity, and bemusement. He was bemused, damn it. I think I put it together pretty quickly, all things considered. I stared into Megan's eyes and asked, point blank, "Is that your dad looming behind me?"

Megan had gone mute again so all I got was a nod, but that's really all I needed. I hung my head, conquered by the universe's perversity. I commenced to cuss and swear. Megan was out of it, but I noticed that the medical staff attending the wounded turned pale and some started to look sick about halfway through my rant. The bastard behind me was bursting with amusement now which only served to worsen my temper.

"God fuck it. God fuck it sideways." I had wound down and was much calmer. I turned to face the Master of a Clan for the first time. He wasn't as tall as his son, standing only 6'6", but, aside from that, the man before me now could have been Michael's twin. It took a moment of observation, but subtle differences in the two men's appearances made themselves known. Both men exuded confidence, but the elder Caine didn't have the same arrogance coloring his features. The man standing in front of me now was simply more mature, not meaning he was older looking, but that his bearing was more... imposing. Most importantly, this man had none of his son's cruelty in his eyes.

As I continued to just watch Megan's father, I could feel his emotions start to stir and felt a touch of annoyance in addition to his bemusement. I can't deny that I didn't smile over that which caused another spike in annoyance. It was Caine who broke the relative silence of the room.

"What," he growled through the bustling professionalism of the medical staff, "is so funny, you white-eyed freak." He was smiling even as he tried to impress his will upon me, but all I made note of was that his speech was without accent. I had never heard accent free English and it sounded strangely alien. I waited a few very noticeable moments before answering the bigger man.

"Your family and my relationships with its members. Your daughter and I love each other. Your son and I hate each other, although for distinctly different reasons. Michael hates me because I've beaten him twice and knows I'll probably kill him the next time I see him, and I hate him because he's a cruel little fucker that has tried to terrorize everyone he has ever met. As for you, since you walked into this room, you've been thinking of ways to kill me." He was the first person I met that had multiple shadows, and if hadn't been so freaking tired, I would have been more than a little freaked out. He would have beaten me with ease, but I don't think I can be killed so... stalemate? Not really. I made sure to meet his eyes, the same shade of blue as his daughter, and smile as I said, "I can't wait to meet Megan's mother and see what her reaction to me is."