Antibodies: Part Two

by DuAnn Cowart

Shen Li-Men and The Midnighter walked down one of the Carrier's myriad hallways, winding their way through the core of the ship towards the Command Center.

"Are you sure it was wise to leave him back there like that?" The Midnighter asked, inclining his head towards the Medlab. "He looked pretty out of it to me--"

"The Doctor? Oh, he'll be fine," a raven brow arched speculatively. "He said he's 'communing' with the other Doctors, whatever that means. He'll join us when he's done."

"You mean when his high passes?" Midnighter snorted disdainfully. "Please. I lived on the street for years, and I saw that handful of pills he took. Global shaman or not, he's crashed."

"You're probably right." Shen nodded, then looked thoughtfully at her companion, questions dancing in her dark eyes. "What about you?"

"What *about* me?" He growled, and unconsciously began walking faster down the hall in a purposeful stride. His long leather jacket flapped around muscled calves. "I'm fine."

Shen cleared her throat delicately. "Are you certain? If you, Angie and the Doctor all three picked up on what happened back there, *something* happened. Do you have any idea what it could have been?"

"None whatsoever," he grunted. "My computer," he tapped his skull, "skipped a few functions. That. . . never happens."

"Never?" She asked dubiously, lengthening her pace to keep up with his rapid strides. "How about when you're sleeping, or unconscious?"

"Not even then," Midnighter replied with just a touch of smugness, booted feet beating a heavy pattern on the Carrier's metal floor. "The calculations may slow down and go into different modes, but they never stop. They never miss a beat."

"Except now," she added pointedly, then inclined her head as inhumanly keen hearing detected the far away sounds of familiar footsteps approaching from a distance. "I think somebody's getting impatient," she slyly observed.

A few moments later the Midnighter saw a bright figure turn a corner and understood her meaning. "Mother hen," he muttered disdainfully.

Apollo saw them, and his face split in a huge smile. A muscular arm shot up in the air, waving to catch their attention. The huge white-haired man broke into a light run, loping down the hall to meet them. He skidded to a stop, grabbing the Midnighter by the shoulders. A warm halo of light beamed around his handsome face. "Hey! There you are! Jenny sent me to look for you."

"What, you thought I'd jumped ship?" The Midnighter asked crossly, but despite the annoyed tone Shen saw black-clad shoulders relax somewhat in the other man's presence. Nodding to herself, she stepped back a few paces to give the two men a semblance of privacy.

Apollo ignored the question, instead looking down into the Midnighter's face. "See, you survived. Told you it wouldn't be so bad." He gave his partner a searching, concerned look. "Was it?"

The Midnighter favored him with a small smile and a quick shake of his head. "Just a needle. Didn't take long at all."

"Good," Apollo responded quickly, too quickly, and it was obvious that a colder sentiment still lay underneath the gentle teasing. Not for the first time Shen wondered exactly what the two men had endured to obtain their augmented abilities.

"You've always got to be right, don't you?" The Midnighter unconsciously rubbed the sore place on the inside of his arm. He shivered, pulling the lapels of his coat tighter to his stocky chest.

Apollo jutted his chiseled chin forward, wavy white hair illuminated silver by the light emanating from his skin. "Well, I usually *am* right," he retorted, then raised one broad hand to the shorter man's shoulder, massaging lightly. "Hey," he said gently. "You cold?"

The Midnighter reached up to clasp his partner's warm hand, feeling the inhuman warmth radiate through the thick leather of his gloves. "Usually," he answered gruffly, squeezing tightly to absorb as much heat as possible.

Apollo returned the squeeze, cupping both of his hands around his partner's icy fingers. "I know," he whispered. "But it's something else, isn't it? What happened back there. . . it bothered you."

The Midnighter released his hands, stuffing them into the lined pockets of his jacket. "Yeah, it did," he admitted, glancing at Shen. "I'm not going to try to understand what happened, but I don't like this. I don't like this at all."

"For once, I agree," Shen interjected, moving closer to them. She turned to Apollo. "Did Jenny contact Jackson and Christine yet?"

Apollo nodded, and the halo of light framing his face brightened perceptively. "She did. Woke them up, too- they haven't heard a peep, which is good news, I suppose. They're checking around with the U.N. and other supergroups now. We should have an answer fairly soon."

*******

"Nothing?"

Jenny Sparks drew in the last breath of smoke from a dying cigarette and mashed the butt into a nearby receptacle, an overflowing plastic ashtray oddly incongruous with the sleekly modern design of the Carrier's control room. She glared at the holographic image projected in front of her. "What the hell do you mean, nothing?"

A crystal-clear miniature image of a rumpled Christine Trelane peered back over the tops of thick black framed glasses. "Are you getting deaf in your old age, Jenny? Jackson's double checking now, but I don't think he's going to find anything. We did all the scans you requested- and even some you forgot- but all inquiries report negative, and there've been no reports of unusual activity- superhuman or otherwise."

"Well, shit. A whole lot of help you lot are." Jenny grimaced and lit another cigarette. Thin smoke curled from it's tip, wafting into the air. Ambient light from Christine's holographic image illuminated the smoke, painting Jenny's face in radiant tones of pink and green.

Christine shrugged, pushing up the sleeves of her rumpled omnipresent white oxford shirt. "What can I tell you, Jenny? All geo-political and extraterrestrial scans show normal activity- nothing more, nothing less. Things are remarkably calm down here for a change."

Jenny was silent a moment before nodding reluctantly. She studied the other woman's face for a moment before concluding. "By the way, you look like shit, Trelane."

"Likewise," Christine yawned, taking off her glasses to rub bloodshot eyes. "Being jolted out of bed at three a.m. in the morning will do that to you. What's your excuse?"

"Occupational hazard," Jenny shrugged. "Odd hours are part of our job."

"You don't say." Trelane murmured dryly. "Jenny, about these scans-- Is anything serious going on up there we should know about? If so, quit being so fucking mysterious and tell me what's up so I can do my job. Otherwise," she cast a longing look behind her. "I'm going back to bed. We've got a meeting in the morning with the U.N. team that apprehended that rogue Yemeni telepath last week, and we need to be ready. I'm pretty damn sure they've got at least one superhuman hidden in that group, and I need to find out who it is."

"The U.N." Jenny's nostrils flared in distaste. "Soddin' pricks, wouldn't know their arse from a hole in the ground." She shook her head. "I've already told you as much as I know, Christine. Three of my people grab their heads like soddin' bombs went off in their skulls, it makes me nervous. Are you *sure* you're finding nothing?"

"Damn sure," a deeper voice answered, confident and sure. Jackson King, former Weatherman and Battalion of StormWatch, stepped into the holographic display. He rested an easy hand on Christine's shoulder. "I just pissed off several very important people, but I got your information. Nothing's going on- no hidden incidents of superhuman violence that might have escaped conventional inquiry, no covert actions of the type that might cause us concern. Hell, I even had the computer do a search through every current satellite scan for the last three weeks and do a projection of any aberrations from the norm- nothing."

Christine leaned forward, and even through her obvious exhaustion Jenny recognized the sharp intelligence that had allowed this woman, too, to sit as Weatherman once upon a time. "It'd help a lot if you could give us some sort of guidance as to what you're looking for, Jenny."

"I bloody well wish I could," Sparks sighed. "I'm not covering anything up here. I'm just being overly cautious. I don't want something that could have been prevented to come up and bite us on our respective asses."

Jackson stiffened for a moment, then nodded. Christine eyed him warily, then refocused her attention on Jenny. "Keep us informed, Jenny. If we need to issue warnings-"

Jenny shook her head abruptly, blonde ponytail swinging over her shoulders. "Nah, I don't think that's necessary. Just-- keep me appraised of any weird shit you find."

Jackson's eyebrows jumped to a non-existent hairline. "Weird shit? Look around you, Jenny. Weird shit is our business."

"Sod off, Sunbeam. You know what I mean." She eyed the image askance.

"Yeah, we know what you mean," Christine replied, taking Jackson's arm. "And we expect the same. If that's all, then, we're out of here."

"That's all." Jenny waved one hand at them, ushering them away. "Of to bed with you, then. G'won-- shoo." She smiled sweetly, the words dripping saccharine. "Give the U.N. my very best regards."

Christine fixed her with a wry look, and Jackson laughed aloud. His warm, rich laughter filling the quiet of the night. "Goodnight," they chorused, and the image went dark.

"'Night," Jenny Sparks murmured softly, the single word low and quiet against the suddenly empty room.

*********

On the other side of the ship, The Engineer stepped away from an illuminated array, arms stretched high above her head, ribs rising and falling in a luxurious yawn. Jack Hawksmoor crouched on a small outcropping several feet above her, arms balanced lightly on his knees as he pretended not to notice how nicely her toned muscles and curves rippled underneath silver nanite armor.

"Got what you needed?" He asked, gravelly voice even deeper than usual as he gazed down at her from his lofty vantage point.

"Got it!" She answered cheerily, clutching a flourescent orange magnetic disk case. "Thanks for waiting for me, Jack. I had the Carrier route this information to the Command Center, but I've got just enough healthy paranoia to want a backup copy just in case."

"No problem." He leapt down, agile as a cat. "You ready to go?"

She thought for a moment, then shook her head, corded hair swinging over her shoulders. "No, I think I'm going to take a few minutes here to look over the data," she commented, turning to the nearest console and calling up a holographic display of the information contained in the disc.

"You may want to go ahead without me," she spoke over her shoulder, already engrossed in her task. "There's just so *much* information here. It's gonna take me forever to go through this."

"I'm in no hurry," he assured her, and sensed the first strains of a now familiar wordless refrain dance around the edges of his altered senses. He turned away from Angie, already distracted by the call. "Go on, do your job. I'm gonna try something else."

She flashed him a grateful, if preoccupied, smile and continued her work. Green eyes darted back and forth as she rapidly analyzed the strange symbols scrolling down the screen at a rapid pace.

While she worked, Jack paced around the room, opening himself to the whisper of the Carrier's presence. The Authority had long suspected the ship was alive, and recently those suspicions had been confirmed-- at least for him. The ship had hesitantly spoken to him, lightly brushed his consciousness with her own, and it was both like and unlike the familiar touch of his beloved cities. It was an imperfect communion- ephemeral as mist and about as lasting, but every scrap of gleaned information from the interdimensional transport had proven useful in one form or another. Jack had learned to pay attention when she spoke, and she was speaking to him now.

Long familiar with this sort of touch, he gave himself to it, barely noticing as treaded feet led him to one high white wall. Eyes closed, he unconsciously raised one hand to trail thick fingers gently along the curved surface, straining to interpret the hazy communication emanating from the ship.

Angie was so utterly absorbed in her work that she didn't even notice. She stared at the holographic display, occasionally adjusting minute controls for greater accuracy or a different perspective. One of these stray movements inadvertently knocked the orange disc to the floor. Never taking her eyes off of the screen, Angie stooped to pick it up, and the rapid movement made her head swim. When she raised a hand to rub her temple the pain intensified, carrying with it the odd echoes she'd sensed earlier. She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated, trying to pin down the sensation, to no avail.

Moments later, Jack emerged from contact with the Carrier, eyes wide and glassy in the aftermath of the communion. He moved sluggishly away from the wall. "Angie?" He called in a curiously thick voice. When she didn't answer, there was a liquid blur of motion and he was at her side in an instant. "What's wrong?"

She opened her eyes, blinking against suddenly bright light. "Nothing," she pulled away from him, grimacing. "Just- a twinge, really."

"Another twinge." He repeated dubiously, dark eyes glinting in the artificial light. "Angie, this has been happening a lot lately. Are you *sure* there's nothing wrong?"

Mercury eyelids lowered over bright green eyes. She sighed. "This is nothing new, Jack. It's been happening more and more often as the nanites integrate themselves deeper into me- I postulated something like this would happen in my original work."

Bare feet shuffled hesitantly against the cold metal floor. "This is exactly what I was talking about earlier. As powerful as we are, every one of us has weaknesses. We can all be hurt, and I don't want one of these--" he paused artfully, "Twinges to strike in the middle of battle and leave you in an awkward or dangerous position."

She snorted, patting his arm lightly. "Don't worry. They happen all the time, but they're manageable- never worse than a bad case of cramps. This one's nothing like before."

Jack nodded curtly, face unreadable. "When we fought god?"

She rolled her eyes at the words, current puzzle forgotten for the moment at the ire the comment evoked. "How many times do I have to tell you people this? That was NOT God." She punctuated the words with florid hand movements. "That was just a big nasty turd pyramid intent on eating the earth. It was NOT the Creator of the Universe."

Jack lifted a hand, slipping a finger underneath his collar. He tugged at the fabric uncomfortably. "Well, it wasn't sure anything like any of the conceptions of Diety *I'm* aware of-- and my view's pretty broad-- but the Doctor did say-"

"The Doctor's full of opium and shit half the time, Jack. You and I both know that. I don't care *what* he says, that creature was NOT God." She took a deep breath, and prepared to launch into a now familiar tirade. "I know it was incredibly old and powerful, but you'll never convince me that the Doctor's own beliefs didn't influenced the way he perceived that monster. His views on religion are-- fucked up in the extreme. I mean, have you *read* some of the books in that pig sty he calls his quarters?"

Jack inclined his head, arching his eyebrows wryly. "Angie, have you *seen* your apartment in New York lately? There's an expression about a pot and a kettle in there somewhere--"

She idly made a rude gesture at him. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're channeling my mother, Jack. I'm being serious."

"So am I," he answered soberly. "Being who I am, I have sort of open views on religion-" He paused, then his lips split in a broad smile. He studied her for a moment, then raspy laughter filled the air. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" She asked innocently, perching on the edge of a nearby table. She drew her knees underneath her chin, linking her arms loosely around shining silver legs. "What do you mean?"

"You know damn well what I mean," he responded with a bemused smile. "Good try, but I've seen you pull this trick before. You divert the conversation away from something you don't really want to talk about."

She grinned. "Guilty." A long yawn, and she cast a regretful look at the forgotten computer display screen. She hopped down from the table. "And as enjoyable as this conversation is, I'd really better get back to work."

Rugged features creased in a frown as Jack recalled the Carrier's clouded message. "Yeah, you'd better do that. Look for something wrong in the Bleed."

"The Bleed?" Angie leaned forward, interest piqued. "What makes you say that?"

Broad shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. "The Carrier told me."

She smiled softly. "Damn," she said wistfully. "You have no idea how much I wish I could do that-- talk to her that easily, I mean. The nanites allow some rudimentary communication, but it's so stilted, so basic. I really envy you sometimes, Jack."

"Don't," he shook his head. "You've got to understand, she's not a regular city, so she can't communicate with me as clearly as Earth cities do. It's incredibly frustrating for me, too."

She nodded sympathetically. "I hate it, too, because there are so many things I'd dearly love to know about her. Where is she from? What happened to her original crew? How did they come up with the tech to cage an entire universe?"

He stuck his hands in his pockets, eyeing her speculatively. "You've really gotten into this, haven't you?" S

he grinned, white teeth gleaming against chromed skin. "Damn right I have. Joining the Authority, finding the Carrier- it's opened up entire new worlds for me. My life has changed 180 degrees since I joined the team, but I wouldn't change it for the world."

"I'm glad to hear that," he raised a hand to his face, cradling his chin as he studied her. A strange note of wistfulness crept into his voice. "I truly am."

Something in his tone gave her pause. Weighing the need to imput the new data against the strange plays of ill-concealed emotion on Jack's face, Angie bit her lip, considered her options, and made a decision.

"What about you?" She asked softly, putting work aside long enough to address a question long unspoken. "Would you change things if you could?"

He froze, then closed his eyes before answering slowly in a hoarse voice. "I ask myself that every day of my life. I think about the cities, about how it feels to share their joy and their sorrow, and what I would have missed if it had never happened to me. I think I what I would have lost."

He hesitated, square jaw clenching spasmodically. His eyes rested on her. "And then I think about what it would be like to be a human being again. To be a normal man."

Angela felt something deep inside go cold at the catch of emotion in his burred voice. She took his much larger hand in her own, cupping her palm over his calloused fingertips. "I don't want to hear you talk like that. Jack, you *are* a human being," she whispered, clasping his hand tightly. "Believe me on this."

He looked down at their hands, then squeezed back tightly before releasing her. "I--You don't know what you're saying, Angie."

"Hey," she shook her head, and for a moment he saw a flash of vulnerability cross her features. "Look at me. Am I any less human because I have metal running through my veins?"

He blinked, surprised by the question. "Of course not, but it's not the same thing-"

She pursed her lips disapprovingly. "Of course it is, Jack. Neither one of us may meet the textbook definition of 'normal'-- if there is such a thing-- but that doesn't mean we're not human."

Already shaken by the maelstrom of emotions her innocent comments had stirred within him, he cleared his throat and adroitly changed the subject to a topic still troubling him. "Angie, we're-- friends, aren't we?"

Her eyes narrowed, but she answered quietly, allowing him to move away from what she knew was a painful topic. "That's a stupid question. Of course we're-- friends, Jack. What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

Without thinking he reached down and gently brushed her wrist with the back of curved fingers. He looked down and saw himself mirrored in her argent skin. "Angie. I don't want to keep on this, I really don't, but we really need to have some sort of treatment plan in place for you. If you were injured-"

Red eyes met green, and she shivered at the touch of his hand. "You're overreacting, Jack. It's a natural function of the nanites to protect me from any environment I encounter. I *can't* be hurt. There's nothing wrong, I promise."

He stood in front of her, arms crossed akimbo. "Then why these twinges? If you're experiencing negative effects from your fusion, I need to know. Jenny needs to know--"

She pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself. "What can I say? So I get a pain in my side every now and then. So what? It's a small price to pay for what I get in return." At his dubious look, she sighed. "Listen. You've got things you don't want to talk about- well, so do I. I've never liked whiners, and I'm not going to be one. OK?" Chin set in determination, she unconsciously echoed his stance, bracing her legs and crossing her arms over her chest to meet his gaze.

He outstretched his hands palms first in a placating manner. "Fine, fine. I'll drop it. Just promise you'll let me know if it gets worse?" They locked eyes, and surprisingly she was the first to look away.

"You fight dirty," she murmured, then nodded abruptly. "All right, damn you, I promise. Now can I *please* get back to my work before Jenny flays me alive?"

He laughed aloud, a surprising note of warmth in the cool room. "By all means." He watched her walk away, then added, "But I'm serious about the Bleed, Angie. Focus your search there- the Carrier doesn't know what it is, but something's wrong, and she doesn't like it."

"I'm on it," she assured him, already back at the console, grateful to return to the realm of science.

Slim fingers entered a series of commands, and the screen obediently displayed the requested data, focusing on the Carrier's observation of the Bleed. Angie studied the information for a few moments, squinting at a particularly troublesome series of characters. Her lips moved silently as she pored over the calculations, checking and double checking the Carrier's data.

A few moments later green eyes went round as saucers. "Oh, shit," she curseed, face pale under her silver armor. She raised a shaking hand to the screen, touching one particularly unexpected symbol. The holographic light from the screen glanced off the reflective surface of her skin, dappling the console in dots of blue and pink. "That's just not possible," she breathed softly, tendrils of fear creeping into her voice.

Jack walked over to the display. "What?" Thick dark brows inched together. "I don't understand, Angie. What are we looking at?"

"This," She pointed at the screen with an unsteady hand. "You were right, it's the Bleed."

"What about the Bleed?" He stared at the holographic symbols, unsure of their meaning. "What's wrong?" She swallowed tightly. "The Bleed is the arterial wall between dimensions. It's everywhere and nowhere at once- that's why the Carrier sails through it so often. It's the only constant in a continually shifting multiverse."

"I know that," he chided gently. "Angie, quit beating around the bush. What's going on here?"

Her answer was cut off by a loud radiotelepathic shout.

"ANGIE, JACK. I'M GOING BLOODY GRAY WAITING FOR Y' TWO TO GET BACK. FOUND ANYTHING YET?" Jenny Sparks' wry voice sounded in their heads, amused and impatient as always.

"Great timing," Angie murmured, expression slack with something very akin to fear. "Jenny, you're not gonna believe this--"

Jenny noted the tremor in the other woman's voice and all levity drained from her tone. "ENGINEER, SITREP. NOW."

The other woman's utter confidence was reassuring, and Angie inhaled deeply before answering. "If I'm reading this right," She inwardly scanned the time, "About fifty-five minutes ago the Bleed had what I can only call a seizure. For some unknown reason, it shifted frequencies then shifted immediately back. That shift was what we felt."

There was a brief pause while Jenny digested the information. "I ASSUME YOU'VE VERIFIED THIS DATA?"

Angie was too unnerved by to be offended by the question. "Of course." Bright fingers flashed on the console. "I'm running more tests, but I'm still getting the same result. For approximately. . ." She paused, calculating, ".0000003782 nanoseconds, the Bleed was out of synch."

Jack stood, running a hand through close-cropped dark hair. He was already at the door, shrugging into his jacket. "Jenny, the Carrier knew something was wrong. I don't know how, it's not clear, but Angie's right. Something's wrong with the Bleed."

To her credit, Jenny surpressed her incredulity, only clarified, "YOU'RE TELLING ME THE BLOODY WALL BETWEEN DIMENSIONS SLIPPED."

"That's exactly right," Angie nodded, stunned for a moment by the enormity of what she was saying. "This time the frequency shift was so slight and so swift that there were no serious, lasting effects-- I hope-- but if it happens again--" She trailed off, unwilling to complete the sentence.

Jenny felt no such compunction. "ALL OF REALITY CRASHES IN ON ITSELF." Jenny was quiet a moment, then ordered, "ALL RIGHT. I'M CALLING THE REST OF THE TEAM IN IMMEDIATELY. MEET US DOWN HERE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE." She ended the transmission abruptly.

They were silent a long moment, then Angie bleakly shut down the computer display. Eyes wide with fear, she grabbed the disc in one hand and followed her restless teammate out of the door and into the hallway.

Hawksmoor paused just outside the doorway, waiting for her. "Is this as bad as it sounds?" He asked quietly, unconsciously squaring his shoulders against whatever was to come.

Angie looked up and him and nodded grimly. "Yeah, it is. Jack, all I have to say is that you'd better hope that thing Jenny fried wasn't God, because if this thing is half as bad as it looks like it is, we're sure gonna need Him."

[next part]

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