Gene's Part-A Demon in a Gilded Cage

By Christine Criss and Trynia Merin

Disclaimer: Darkhorse Comics owns the rights to the most recent KISS comics. Original comic book was copyright by Marvel Comics. KISS is their own organization. This is the work of dedicated fans for entertainment purposes only. This is being written without the consent of those involved, and is NOT FOR PROFIT! All other characters (OC) are propertry of Christine Criss and StarbearerTM. No harm is intended to any parties involved. Rated R for language and adult situations!

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Chapter 4-Under Siege

When she next blinked she saw that it was morning. She flinched, gasping that she had fallen asleep so carelessly. Dominique felt her head spinning, and she picked up the phone and plugged it in. Quickly she called work, saying she felt ill and didn't want to come in.

"Are you all right?" asked Sue, in concern over the phone. She was a technician in the same lab as Dominique.

"I'm sick. Could you tell Chase and the supervisor…"

"Sure… can we do anything for you?" she asked.

"If someone calls asking for me, tell them I'm unavailable…" Dominique said quickly.

"Chase told me that someone kept calling the lab… and that he had to take you home. What's going on?" she asked.

"It's just some stalker who won't quit… and I'm just worried sick…" she stammered.

"You have to call the police!" said Sue angrily. "This is nuts!"

"They won't do anything till they have evidence…" Dominique despaired. "I'm going to stay home and if this bastard calls, I'll keep the tape and send it then!"

"Hon, don't worry us… I'll drop by…" Sue said hastily.

"No, if he sees people coming and going he might suspect that I'm onto him…" she whispered. "Just tell them I'll be back tomorrow if I can…"

"Please… for god's sake girl, call the police if you're this scared…" Sue started.

"I'll be ok, Mrs. Hernandez lives just up the hallway and she's here during the day. I can call her if I need anything," she said. "Look, I just feel lousy…"

"Look, call me later," she said. "I'm worried…"

"Thanks," said Dominique as she hung up, and sighed. Her head was pounding, for she had been awake till at least three AM. It was now seven thirty, and she should be on her way by now. Only functioning on four hours of sleep was not one of her strong points. Especially when she hadn't slept much the night before. Funny that she should work for Simmons Foundation, companies that specialized in hunting down concerned parties, and be under threat herself.

She dared not go to the police. Because they'd ask why. These men knew her movements. That letter had talked about her 'secret' and she was paralyzed with fear. If she told someone, then she would have to tell all. Frankly she didn't know what to say even if she did.

***

"Mr. Simmons, I'm worried about one of my employees," said Dr. Molson as he stood in front of the huge oak desk. Gene glanced at the clock. It was half past noon. The remains of some lo mien rested in their containers, pushed off to the side. His penchant for Chinese food had exerted its dominance over his choice, and well, he was hungry. Funny how he turned to food when he was disturbed. But because of his unique physiology, all of it went directly into action, instead of fat.

"What's the matter?" Gene asked calmly. "You seemed very disturbed when you asked to see me… and that it was urgent. Is someone being disruptive in your department?"

"Well it's one of my scientists. Dominique Goldstein. She's been acting really strange lately. I'm worried sick about her…"

"Ah, who was that again?" Gene asked. Dr. Molson was the first line supervisor for Forensics, and rather than go to Dr. Metzger, he had asked to see Gene in person. Dr. Metzger had given his blessing though, Gene saw from the memo he'd been sent by Sheri.

"She's been a good worker for the past five years…"

"What precisely has been 'strange' about her behavior?" Gene asked, hating to think HE was the problem.

"Well it's been going on for the past two weeks… and I didn't really notice till now. But we keep getting these calls at the lab. She's been distracted and absent minded at work… and her girlfriends in the company are worried…"

"Be more specific," Gene said. "Is she disrupting your work?"

"No sir, it's like something's disrupting HER. I had to call security to help escort her out cause she was worried sick and didn't want to go home…"

"Why?" Gene asked. "Did she mention any reason?"

"She insists that she doesn't want the police involved. She said there was some stalker after her, and she didn't want us to get into trouble."

"A stalker?" Gene asked, trying to hide the look of guilt and sickness. Shit, he had really had his head up his ass.

"Yes sir… I know what happens after hours is not your business, but you told me to report any problems…"

"Don't worry about it. You're doing the right thing. Has she called the police?" Gene asked.

"No sir, that's just it. And she called out sick today. I've tried calling, but there's no answer…"

"What about these calls to the lab?" Gene asked.

"I answered a few of them. They said they were her doctor's office. Mr. Simmons, I'm worried… I don't want to lose a valuable employee… or a friend…"

"I understand. Look, don't worry. I'll take care of it. You go back to work. If you get any more weird calls, you know how to trace them…"

"Yes Mr. Simmons… thank you," said Chase as he looked decidedly more relieved.

"Not a problem. I take care of my employees," Gene said as he shook his hand. Chase walked out, smoothing out his white labcoat as he exited Gene's office. The door closed, and Gene twisted a pencil between his fingers. IT snapped easily, and he tossed the pieces down.

"What the hell is going on?" he mumbled as he looked at what he'd written down. Picking up the phone he called Sheri.

"Yes Mr. Simmons?" she asked. "What can I do you for?"

"No time for b.s. Sheri. I want you to look up one of my employees, and no smart-ass remarks. Ms. Dominique Goldstein. Everything we know about her…"

"May I ask why?"

"You may," Gene said curtly as he drummed his fingers nervously on the desk.

"All right I get the hint. I'll send it right in…" she said.

"And get someone to tap the office phone. We're getting some crank calls in Forensics," Gene said. "Have HR call Ms. Goldstein. She's been acting rather strange… call her doctor and see if these calls are legit…"

"Sure thing. Anything else?"

"Let me know if anyone gets through," Gene said as he glanced up at one of his other assistants entering with a large manila folder. He took it with a nod of thanks, and then set it on his table.

"Will do."

"Thanks," he said. "And get me some more coffee please? Dark, because I'm going to need it…"

"At once," she said. The assistant heard and held up his hand.

"I'll get it, sir," he said.

"86 the coffee, Brentwood's on it," Gene said as he hung up the phone, and Brentwood exited. He picked up the file and glanced at it, seeing her name printed in a neatly typed label. All of his employees he had background checks on and this was just company policy.

He tried to convince himself that it was more than a selfish reason why he was looking into this folder that was private and confidential. Guilt washed over him that he had been so callus. Here was someone who was in trouble and he had just played the careful way. Opening the folder he saw her employment history and marveled at what he read there.

"MS in science from NYU, graduated with honors. BS in Chemistry with a minor in Computer Science from Brooklyn College… 3.6 GPA. Interests included S.F. club, ACS, Shore Leave Trekker's society, art league…"

"Parents, one deceased, one living. Emergency contacts include an Uncle Irving in Queens, and her mother, in Queens," he mumbled. "Co op city. Figures…"

"Residence… Queens, Upper East Side… small apartment building," he muttered as he glanced over the relevant records. No spouse listed, he saw with relief. And if she HAD been in the place he had met her, she was obviously available. Single, like him.

He didn’t' interview her, he recalled. The company details for hiring he'd left to Dr. Metzger. The company itself was less than seven years old, and Dominique had been with it for a good part of the time. He hadn't recalled her, because she was a lower level scientist. Yet he glanced over her work record and saw that it was exemplary. Till he read 'distractible and absent-minded' on some recent reports. He frowned, and looked for anything that would indicate any prior history of medical problems. A few doctors' visits were listed, and he wondered about her father. Turning to his computer he debated whether to dig deeper. Something stopped him, and he turned it off as he closed her folder.

"No," he told himself. "This isn't right. She doesn't deserve this…"

Whatever was going on, he was partly responsible. And he had to make things right. He liked her, really liked her. She was willing to work with him on this. Granted he had a policy against superiors dating inferiors, but this was his company, curse it. Should he claim executive privilege? Abuse his own power? Gene laughed at the irony of this. Another side of him didn't mind breaking the rules if it meant doing what was right.

The phone rang, and he picked it up, "Simmons. What have you got?"

"She isn't calling back, and those phone calls were all traced to various public phone booths. One was right across from this company location."

"And did H.R. get hold of Ms. Goldstein?" he asked.

"Nope, she's not answering any calls."

"Crap," Gene mumbled. "Get Foster to run an errand for me. I need a few items. And tell Miguel to have my car ready. Cancel all my appointments for the rest of today. If it's an emergency, tell them to route the calls to Foster."

"Right sir."

He sighed and glanced at his reflection faintly staring back at him through the huge circular window. Instead of a high powered executive he saw a young man, who was very consumed with work, and hiding from some fundamental truth. It was lonely at the top.

"Time to do something about that," he muttered. "Before this chance slips away…"

***

Back in her apartment, Dominique Goldstein slowly stirred. "God," she groaned, and lay on the sofa, hugging her knees. Wearily she looked at the clock on the VCR, which said three p.m. She felt so helpless. Especially when the phone started ringing, and the messages started. Was this the twentieth time today? Even turning up the TV was no good, for she could still hear the ring. Why did she have it on? It could be someone checking up on her, and she was hesitant to pick it up unless it was Chase or Sue.

Thankfully Sharon and Allison called two of those times, wondering if she was all right. She assured them she would be OK, but they knew better. Even peering out of the curtains she could swear she saw someone glancing up at her window from the street. Knocks sounded at the door, and she did not answer them. Even though she knew it was the morning paper from the six AM sound.

There came a hissing sound and she jumped. The TV was suddenly showing a haze of snow, and she checked the cable connection. "Shit," she mumbled as she struggled with it. Picking up the phone she called one of her neighbors.

"Hello?" she asked. "Is your cable out?"

"Yeah, just went out this morning. You home dear? You ill?"

"Yes…" she said. "Look, was there anyone asking for me, or knocking on my door yesterday?"

"At least two different gentleman knocked at your door," she said. "One was the UPS guy, but since you didn't answer the door, and weren't at work, he left a message. Didn't you see the slip?"

"No," she said with relief.

"And there was some other guy who stopped, and knocked. But he looked like someone you knew from work. Are you expecting visitors?"

"No. Someone's stalking me…"

"Oh god, I hope you called the Police…"

"I'm staying here, to record these messages, so I have proof…" she said, as her voice choked.

"If you need me to say something," said Mrs. Hernandez.

"Just keep an eye out, and keep your kids indoors…"

"You should call the cops… if you don't I will, if this keeps up," she muttered. "I'll check up on you later… you don't sound so good…"

"I don't… but I don't want to do anything till I know for SURE that someone IS stalking me, and HOW they got my work numbers… because there is no TELLING what they'll do," she shivered.

"I'll keep my eyes open. You promise you'll call the police if something happens…" said Mrs. Hernandez.

"Goodbye," she said and quickly hung up, rubbing her face. Weariness set in, and she lay there on the sofa, flipping at the channels. Angrily she realized that there was NO cable, and she'd have to get the back up… which was an old pair of rabbit ears tucked in the back of her hall closet.

"Figures," she mumbled.

***

"Is anyone in there? Miss Goldstein!" shouted a male voice.

She was lying on the sofa when she jolted awake. Someone was pounding on her door. Every muscle froze. Someone was calling her name. She jerked up, and stared at the door, wide eyed. The voice was insistent. For a second it stopped, and then resumed.

"Shit, I'm not home," she breathed.

"I know you're in there, Ma'am," said the voice. "Please open the door…"

She grabbed the gun, heart pounding. Slowly she approached. There was something familiar about the voice. But when she heard another voice she stopped dead in her tracks. It was not familiar, and she was sure if there were more than one she was in trouble.

"She DOES live here, boss," came the voice. "That's what it said in her file, right?"

"I heard she was sick…" he muttered. "And her friends said she was here…"

"I know you were looking for her before… but maybe this isn't a good time, Boss," said the first voice again.

"Dominique Goldstein, please open the door…" came the second voice which had a slight Spanish accent, and she lay with her side to it, slowly glancing at the peephole. Two coated figures were there, and she saw one move into view.

"Holy shit," she whispered. The first was a tall Puerto Rican, and there was a second, who was a tall black man with black sunglasses. Great. They had come for her.

"Miss Goldstein… please open the door. I need to talk to you…" came the first voice again.

"Go away… I've got a gun, and I know HOW to use it," she shouted.

"What now, boss?" asked the first muffled voice.

"Let me talk to her," spoke a third voice. She could swear she had heard it before. But muffled through the door could she be sure?

"Please, just go away!" she cried. "Or I'll call the police, I swear…"

"I don't think THAT's necessary… do you, doll?" said the voice. "Will you please open the door? I feel pretty silly talking to you with a door between us."

"Oh god," she gasped as she saw who it was in the peephole, feeling mingled embarrassment and relief. "I'm so sorry… I didn't think…"

"Is this a bad time for me to drop by?" asked Gene Simmons, and Dominique slid the chain, and opened the door slightly to see him standing there, holding something in his hands that she shouldn't see.

"I… oh shit, I'm so sorry," she gasped. "I wasn't expecting you…"

"May I come in?" he asked with his two security guards standing back a bit.

"Um yeah… but it's a mess… I’m sorry I freaked… I um…" she stammered. "You were literally the last person I expected to see today."

"If this isn't a good time, I'll come back later. I heard you were not feeling well…" Gene said as he slid his hand inside the door.

"This is a stupid question, and don't take this the wrong way… but what are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you didn't want to see me any more."

"I'd like to talk about that, and other things, if I may," Gene said. "But if you want me to leave…"

"No don't go. Please, come in," she said urgently, pulling the door shut, then sliding the chain free. When she opened the door, she tried to smile as best she could. He wanted to talk to her. That was a good sign. And those two security guys would make sure that nobody would disturb them.

"Should we wait here, Mr. Simmons?" asked Miguel. She could kick herself for not recognizing him, but he was wearing a cap that hid his features, along with shades. It was a much more casual outfit than he wore the night before as a chauffeur, that's why.

"Yes. I'll call down if I need anything," he said with a smile. Dominique didn't know what to do with her hands as she opened the door, and Gene stepped in.

"It's a mess," she apologized hastily, as he glanced around the apartment, and she felt his eyes examining her. Figures he saw her at her worst, her hair a mess and held up in a ratty ponytail, no makeup, and in her sweats and T-shirt.

"Not to worry, I've seen FAR worse," Gene said with a smile that seemed quite promising. It was warm, and genuine, and far different than the morning before. He closed the door behind him as she went around straightening up magazines absently.

"Shit... I didn't expect company man… I just…" she apologized, scooping up piles of paper and grabbing the dishes to throw into the sink.

"If you're not feeling well," Gene said. "I thought you could use some chicken soup, and something else…"

"Can I get you anything… water, soda… I've got some beer… oh jeez," she mumbled as she glanced down and saw she was in her leggings and an old T-shirt. "I’m all dressed like the crypt keeper…"

"Easy, sweetheart, these are for you," Gene said with a laugh as he stepped in front of her, and pushed something into her hands. Her eyes widened at a dozen roses, which were wrapped in gold foil, and they were both white and red. Freshly cut and probably expensive as hell. He also set a large takeout container from a deli of chicken soup, setting it on her kitchen table with another bag that smelled of sandwiches.

"Good Lord these are gorgeous," she muttered as she looked at them. "I guess I'll put these in water…"

She was glad, even if this wasn't what she'd hoped that SOMEONE was there. But how did he know that she was ill, and why was he here NOW of all times? After he'd given her the brush off, she felt hurt and angry. But her fear of being alone outweighed her pride, and she shoved the roses into a vase, and set it on the coffee table. Gene still stood there, and she noticed he was watching her with a slight smile on his face.

"I suppose you're wondering WHY I'm here," he said scratching his head. "I thought I owed you an explanation… I suppose you noticed that I was um… kind of distant…"

She appeared not to hear him as she suddenly glanced out the windows, and the phone rang. He saw her flinch and stopped talking when he noticed the look of dismay on her face.

"If you need to get that," Gene said.

"No, I don't want to answer it," she said quickly. "What were you saying…"

"I was um… wanting to apologize for the other day. Because you may have noticed I rushed you out and all… and well…" he began, scratching his head. "Look, maybe we could sit down, and have something to eat…"

"Is that all?" she laughed nervously, hearing the phone ringing again. Gene raised an eyebrow as she ignored it, and twisted her hair around one finger.

"And I know what you must be thinking…" Gene said as he moved closer. "I'm a CEO, and you're one of my employees, and there ARE rules against a superior dating an inferior…"

"Yes, I know…" she said, still distracted as she heard the phone continuing to ring. Quickly she moved past him and turned off the ringer before the machine could click.

"And that you got the impression I was dismissing you because you work for me…" he said, wondering why she was so jumpy. Perhaps she was turning off the phone for privacy. He couldn't blame her for her aloof attitude.

"What?" she asked, as she made sure the volume was down on the answering machine so she couldn't hear who was calling, and Gene wouldn't either. "Um yeah… you did… I guess I figured it wouldn't work out, when you found my ID…"

"I did," he said slowly. "And I was a bit surprised. And I'd be lying if I said that it didn't matter, because it DOES to some extent…"

"I know you don't like messes," she said quickly, still not completely listening to him. Every sound, even the sound of voices in the hallway made her flinch, and she stared past Gene, who had closed the gap. "And if you're going to tell me that it was just a good time I'll understand… I'm cool with it… but I'm glad you came…"

"Would it help if I said it didn't make any difference?" Gene lifted an eyebrow. "Now that I've thought about it… there are some things that would make this a challenge, mind you, but I saw how upset you were, and I figured I owed you an apology…"

"It's okay," she said quickly. "I mean thanks for coming and all…"

"I did miss you," he said with regret on his face as he moved towards her, and she felt his hand on her cheek. She closed her eyes, feeling the sensation of his fingertips stroking her flesh.

"Ditto," she whispered, trying not to cry. Normally she wouldn't, but she had little sleep, and she was sure this must be a bizarre dream.

"And I'd understand if you DID want to show me the door, but I guess I’m saying I'd like to start again. I DO want to see you again, and last night was…. Different," he whispered.

"I know," she said, as she felt hot tears in her eyes. "I couldn't stop thinking about you…"

"Nor I about you, lover," he whispered as he brought her face close to his. "I can't make any promises, but I do want to explore this further… it's been a while since I've had this happen. And I think I owe it to you, and to myself… unless you have other ideas, that we should get to know one another a bit better… unless you'd like to go slowly…"

She felt her chin wobbling, and suddenly went into his arms, burying her face in his coat. His arms went around her, and she hugged him tightly. To have ANYONE there was better then waiting for the silent hell that may happen. If he was here, then nothing would happen, or so she hoped. She heard his soft sigh as he felt her hands clutching him close, and felt her cheek pressed to his chest.

"I take it this means a yes," he laughed lightly.

"Don't leave me alone," she whispered.

"I don't intend to," he said softly. "Unless you want me to slow down… but I think we both know the answer to that… don't we…"

"Oh god, I didn't think you'd ever… in a million years…" she choked, feeling her tears burn. His kiss was warm on her forehead, and his arms strong about her. She continued to cling to him, the fear of the last few weeks surfacing with a vengeance, and she shook in his arms. His fingers traced down her cheeks, and she felt him tilting her head back to give her a kiss. His lips met hers, and she melted in his arms, tears dripping down her cheeks in hot trails of fire. Dominique let him deepen the kiss, wanting any sensation to take away the horrible fear. Would he be able to protect her from this threat, this virus that spread throughout the underworld and saw and heard everything she did?

"With this kind of a warm reception, I should have found you much sooner, and I apologize for my delay in realizing how much fun we can have," he purred, and she saw the lascivious grin in his eyes. But she shivered, unable to stop the tears. His hands moved over her body, caressing it with the precision that he had last night, and her last shred of self control collapsed. Clutching him tightly, she began to shake, and fall against him. Gene first thought that she was as sexually aroused as he was, and caught her about the waist, drawing her up and giving her a dark look of desire as he leaned down to whisper something sweet and dirty into her ear. Dominique buried her head in his chest, gripping the front of his double-breasted jacket tightly. Letting herself go, she sobbed quietly against the wool coat, pouring out all her fear and frustration as she heaved in and out with ragged breaths.

"Hey… hey, now why are you crying, sweetheart? What's wrong…" he asked as he moved back a bit. His eyes widened when he saw her eyes red with crying, as he cupped her face with his hand and tilted it up to look at him.

"God, I'm so scared," she whispered. "This is so not fair… it can't be happening… now of all times when…"

"It's all right love… if you don't want to do this…" he got out, but she gripped his waist tightly, her whole body shivering as she clung to him.

"No it's not that… I'm glad you're here," she stammered. "Please don't leave… Dear god Gene, please don't leave me alone… I'm so frightened…"

"Something IS wrong," Gene realized. Dominique nodded, not wanting to give words to her fears, lest he be frightened away by those who secretly threatened her.

"Damn you're cold as ice… are you sure you're not sick…" Gene muttered, feeling the pallid skin that was blanched. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes, and it hit him that she had perhaps little or no sleep in the last day or so. Guilt wracked him for having left her alone, but his fear was allayed in some small part that it wasn't directly his fault. Nevertheless he was partly to blame for pulling away from her after an intense connection, failing to be sensitive to her problems. Chase was right, there was something terribly wrong, and it was a good thing he had come here.

"I don't know what to do… I'm terrified…" she whispered. "And if I tell you, you might not believe me…"

"Tell me," Gene said as he moved her over to the sofa. "If something's wrong… then I'd like to know… maybe I can help…"

"I don’t 'know if anyone can help me," she sniffed as he sat opposite her, and she buried her head in her hands. Gene put his arms around her, and shushed her as she wept. He felt a strong sense of protectiveness built up in him, and realized he hadn't felt this way about someone in ages. When you were saving the world, having a personal life took a distant back seat to the team. Now that he was training his operatives to undertake his work, and follow in his example, Gene was falling more into the role of supervisor. He was able to relax and build his homes and consider what he could do to fill the time normally spent tracking down villains and danger.

"I'll try, sweetheart," Gene promised as he rocked her. The unreality of it hit her, and she didn't want to move from where she now sat. Could this work out, he wondered, and how far should he go to protect her? Of course he knew what she was going through, for he had faced it himself. Yet how would she react to seeing him in his Demon form? Would she comprehend, or would she scream in terror? Since she was THIS shaken up, he couldn't tell.

"I… someone's been following me… I know it. They have my work number and…" she stammered.

"What?" he asked, tilting her head up. "Start from the beginning…"

"It's stupid really but…" she sniffled as he handed her a tissue.

"I want to hear," he said firmly. "Everything. Even if it sounds totally off the wall and whacked out."

"I can't go to the police… but they keep hounding me…" she stammered. Gene took her hand and urged her to start from the beginning. In halting phrases she revealed everything she knew. For the past three weeks they have been following her, calling her. When she jogged in Central Park she saw other joggers who stuck to her like glue, and started receiving the phone calls asking for her to make an appointment. Then she was approached during a jog, and two men had told her it would be in her best interest to come speak about her talents. She had blown them off. But when she started to get the emails recapping what she did in a day, it spooked her. Gene watched as she got up from the sofa, and wandered over to the mass of papers on her desk. Tidy enough to be accessible, but not so clean that it was neurotic, he noted.

***

An hour later, Gene walked back into the living room with two cups of coffee. He handed one to Dominique before sitting down next to her. They had already eaten the sandwiches, and the soup, which had helped tremendously. Fear took a lot out of her, Dominique thought with an ironic smile. The food was a welcome resource to discuss her situation over.

For a moment she chuckled at how out of place he seemed in her apartment with his high price suit and gold jewelry, but he didn't seem to mind at all. "Milk and double sweet, right?" he said, and handed her the spoon. He'd also raided the cookie jar, because she noticed he'd put several of her homemade toll house cookies on a plate as a snack. She was possibly facing slavery as a crime operative, or death, and they were eating cookies and drinking coffee as if it were another date.

"So, they want something from you. What could you possibly have that they'd want? Are you coming into some wealth…" Gene asked, perplexed.

"I can't tell you," she whispered. "You'd never believe me…"

"Lady, I've seen some serious shit in this city. Try me. There isn't anything you can't tell me. I promise that I won't tell anyone. You know discretion is my middle name. Not just in business, but in my personal life…" he reassured her, rubbing her hand between his to warm it. She blushed at the feel of his hands massaging hers, for his touch was gentle. For such a large man, his hands seemed to have a delicate sensitive manipulation.

"You'll think I'm crazy…" she got out.

"I want to know," he said. "If we're going to go on in this…"

"I…" she started, and then turned away from him for a moment. "It's crazy, but they know something I can do. I've got a talent… or a curse, that few people know about. And I don't understand it myself really… and I'm afraid, because it's the kind of thing… that you… that your company… our company goes after…"

"Dominique, I won't do anything to cause you harm. If someone's threatening you, I want to know about it, dammit," Gene said with a quiet but angry voice.

"Because I'm an employee, or something else?" she asked.

"Both," Gene said. "Nothing you tell me will go beyond this room."

"If they knew, if you knew… you'd think it was something that needed to be put in a lab…" she started.

"Level with me," he said as he turned her face into his. "Is it something to do with YOU? Something UNUSUAL that no other human being is capable of?"

"I don't think anyone can do what I can do… and you have to promise you won't send me off to some institute or lab… I'm not like other human beings. I'm some sort of freak… I…" she got out, shivering.

"I can understand if you're scared. But if you have some unusual ability… that these men want to get their hands on, you owe it to yourself to tell me everything. Because I can help you. And you may NOT be the only one in the world with such abilities…"

"Have I hit my head?" she asked, and then saw the serious look in his dark eyes.

"I won't do anything to hurt you, I promise," Gene said softly. "Tell me, please…"

"I guess it would be easier to show you," she said, separating her hand from his. "God. Where is it…"

Gene saw as she poked around the papers and other objects strewn about the apartment. He had to admit that this explained a hell of a lot. And it might make things much easier if this relationship was going beyond casual sex. Anything more was more then he could give. If she knew what HE was capable of…

***

She found it, an ordinary stone. Smooth as glass and worn from erosion of sand on a New England coast. Sitting down, she passed it to Gene. "Here. What do you see…"

"A stone, unless you're using some psychic power…" he teased.

"Work with me," she said. "This is an ordinary rock. Probably not worth much…"

"Unless you paint it purple and call it Fred," he teased.

"Well, give it back to me and I'll show you…" she said slowly. Gene did so, and watched as she cupped it between her palms. There came a deep fire from the pit of her gut, and she thought of the element. It was much harder to do it deliberately, and she had chosen a rock, which was close to pure minerals. A flash of something arose from her skin, and sparkled as her eyes flared gold, and power crackled through the atmosphere. No wonder, he figured. It was the same sensation that he felt the night that they had…

When she opened her hands, Gene saw the gleam of gold. She passed the object to him, which now resembled a smooth gold nugget. It felt far denser then the rock did, and he passed it over in his hands thoughtfully. He cast her a glance that was matter of fact, and she coughed and said, "It IS gold. If you're not convinced I can turn it into something else…"

She took it away from him, and he saw the same flash of energy. When she next opened her hand, he saw the stone had melted into a silver liquid. His eyes widened and he gasped, "If that's what I think it is, you'd better change it BACK…"

"It doesn't hurt me," she said, seeing the panic on his face when she again changed it, and the puddle of mercury solidified and formed a hunk of yellow rock.

"Sulfur," he said thoughtfully. "Impressive. So… can you change organic to inorganic?"

"You're not surprised…" she said, almost disappointed.

"I am impressed," Gene said. "No wonder you're terrified. You realize the significance of this…"

"And why people would kill to get me," she whispered. "I can't always control it…"

"You mean when you're angry or upset, it happens, without a thought?" Gene asked.

"Yes…"

"Was this why you pulled away from me at first?" Gene asked with an amused look.

"Well you can GUESS what could happen to a man if I lost control," she said sadly.

"But you didn’t with me," Gene said thoughtfully.

"I wondered why myself… and I guess it's because you let me have control," she said with a blush, and her eyes met his.

"That would explain things," he said, lowering his voice to a sultry tone, that made her skin flush, and her nerve endings tingle.

"I'm so scared I'll lose control, and turn you into a statue, or worse yet…" she got out.

"I trust you," Gene said. "And I definitely can help you… because we can study your powers and help you learn to control them…"

"Study?" she asked.

"Your powers, not you," Gene said as he put his finger over her lips. "And you're not going to be some freak or lab rat. You've got an extraordinary talent, but I promise that you won't be harmed. I'll see to it personally…"

"These guys, I think they're pretty big stuff…"

"So am I," he said with a laugh. She looked at him with a snicker and he began to tickle her ribs, to try and take her mind off her terrible fear. It had the desired result, and she shrieked as he mercilessly ran his hands up and down her sides and she collapsed across his lap. She was laughing so hard that she could not breathe, and Gene was running his hands up and down her back now.

"I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you," she said as she turned over and looked up at him.

"Something good or something bad?" he teased.

"Gene, I'm serious. I don't want to lose control… if we um… get closer…"

"Why should you?" Gene asked. "If you controlled your power last night… then why not now?"

"Because I almost did lose control…" she stammered. This was damn ironic, Gene thought with a wry grin. Here SHE was afraid of losing control, and his was the far greater threat.

"You won't, trust me. I trust you," Gene said as he stroked her cheek, and then he turned her over and gave her behind a playful swat. "Besides, if you do start talking about losing control I might have to spank you…"

"But if they look for me, there's no telling what they'll do to you… to get to me," she said as she looked up at him.

"Then I'll have to keep an eye on you…" Gene said as he pulled her into his lap, and his eyes darkened with desire. She was tempted to ask him about the night they had spent in bed, when he had undergone a startling transformation. But she didn’t want to push her luck. Leaning up she seized his face and gave him a long lingering kiss. Gene's soft moan sent her fear away, and he tugged at her shirt, sliding his hands underneath. He raised an eyebrow, realizing she was missing something.

"It's a natural look," she told him.

"Since you're so worried about losing control, why don’t' we practice…" he joked.

"This is no laughing matter," she sighed, shaking her head. "I'm so afraid if I touch you the wrong way… or lose control, I'll hurt you… and I can't bear to…"

"Shh," Gene whispered. "Do you see me laughing?" he asked, reaching for her cheek as he caressed it, and moved his hands over her breasts, in motions that made her gasp with desire. He tugged up her shirt, and was about to remove it.

"What was that?" she gasped when she heard footsteps in the hallway.

"What?" Gene whispered as he stopped what he was doing.

"Something… oh god… they said that they would come…" she whispered, gathering her shirt around her and hugging herself.

"Don't worry, I've got the entrance covered," Gene whispered.

"Damn, I shouldn't have… oh Gene if they see you here…" she panicked, leaping off his lap. "Oh god… oh god…"

"Then we'd better get out of here, now," Gene said as he heard someone pounding on the door, and he moved past her to open it. From playful to serious he had gone in mere seconds, knowing this was deadly.

"Mr. Simmons, I think you'd better check this out," said Miguel. "I heard someone coming up the stairs, and you told me to let you know if…"

"Where's…" Gene asked.

"He's downstairs keeping an eye on the front, and he just called me… someone's been watching the place…" Miguel said.

"Oh hell," Gene mumbled. "Where is he now?"

"Mr. Simmons," said Foster as he rushed up the stairs. "Two men coming this way. And they don't look like normal people who live in here."

"They're coming for me…" Dominique gasped as she pushed past Gene, and he caught her in his arms. Grabbing the remote he flipped on the TV and turned it up loud.

"You're not going anywhere with anyone but us," Gene reassured her. "They won't get you, I promise."

"Who boss?" asked Miguel.

"Get the alternate transportation ready, on the double…" Gene whispered. "If someone DOES come up here… get your ass down there… and I'll take care of Miss Goldstein…"

"Sir…" said his other guard.

"You get in here, Foster. Miguel, keep an eye on the door, but take that newspaper and stand down the hall like you're just some other schmoe. Shout something in Spanish if you see them coming."

"Yes Mr. Simmons…" Miguel nodded as he closed the door, and Foster moved in and Gene pulled Dominique in with him. She gasped as the door shut, and they heard footsteps.

"Get Milo on the phone, now," Gene hissed as Foster reached for something in his pocket, and Dominique gasped when she saw it was a small neat handgun.

With his other hand he grabbed a small cell phone and dialed with his thumb. "Greyhound to Archangel, we need extraction, pronto…" he barked into the phone.

"Oh god…" she whispered as they heard angry shouting. Gene pulled her with him into the center of the room, glancing around at possible means of egress. Dominique gasped as Foster moved to the side, shoeing them away. Gene grabbed her around the waist and snagged her purse as he shoved her along.

"Trust me," Gene whispered. "What's the quickest way out of here?"

"Fire escape, out that window…" she pointed.

"Sounds good to me, did you hear that Foster?" Gene asked.

"Yes boss," he said as he clicked the safety off his gun.

"Dom, listen to me very carefully. We're going to go out the window, and to the fire escape… while Foster covers us," he said to her as he edged her toward the back windows, which were covered in venetian blinds.

"Gene you can't…" she got out as she heard a challenging shout, and pounding on the door. Gene pulled her close to his body with one arm, as the door was pounded on. Pushing her in front of him, he pointed to the window, and she began messing with the latch. It stuck fast. He pressed close to her back as he added his strength to hers.

"Mr. Simmons…" Foster whispered. "He's on his way… but…"

"Miguel…" Dominique gasped to Gene "He'll get…"

"Foster, don't answer it. Miguel's got it, and he'll get out…" Gene whispered.

"We know you're in there… you can't get away," came a voice that made her freeze. "It would be in all our best interests if you opened the door!"

As Dominique moved, Gene caught her and put his hand over her mouth to shush her. His body around her made her feel only a bit safer, but it was enough to reassure her that she wasn't going to face this alone. He indicated the window, and shoved it up with one powerful thrust.

"Nobody's here," called Foster. "But her boyfriend. And we don't want any…"

"Tell her we KNOW she's here. And she's been VERY rude in ignoring our calls. And if you value your relationship you'll let us in…"

"Go to hell," Foster said as Gene signaled to him. "I'm calling the cops…"

"Then we're coming in…" came the answer.

Gene grabbed Dominique's hand as he motioned to Foster, and he moved to just inside the door. A heavy object was slammed repeatedly against it, and they saw the wall vibrating. "Where's your purse?" Gene asked.

"There…" she whispered. "Oh god…"

"Get it…" Gene said. Another heavy blow slammed, and she grabbed her purse and cell phone, panicking. Gene suddenly climbed out the window, and extended his hand to her.

"Oh god, you're kidding me," she held up a hand.

"Come on, we have to get out…" he urged, and then reached in and tugged her by the arm. She scrambled over the windowsill, clutching her purse and cell phone. Her eyes widened as Foster clicked the trigger of his Glock, and motioned frantically to Gene to get out.

"Sounds like they're serious…" Foster joked. "Damn UPS…"

"Shit, then we'll have to fly," Gene mumbled, glancing around in the back ally. She shivered in fear, feeling dizzy as she looked down at the rather hard pavement.

"Go now… I'll give 'em a welcome. Don't worry…" Foster urged.

"Get your ass out and don't take any chances. And then you and Miguel meet us back at the rendezvous…" Gene barked out orders.

"What the HELL are you doing?" Dominique asked. "Are you nuts? They'll kill you… they could…"

"Getting your pretty ass out of here," Gene said firmly. She protested, but he grabbed her about the waist and put her over his shoulder. Dominique let out a cry, gripping tightly to him as he grabbed the rail on the fire escape, and started to climb.

"Oh crap…" she whispered. "I hate heights… not to be a baby…"

"You're not the only one, sweetheart," Gene said as he climbed higher. Moments later he boosted her over the edge and set her on the tar beach at the top of the building. He swung up next to her, and motioned that she should come with him. A sharp explosion sounded, and she saw the shape of Foster leaping out onto the escape, and rushing down into the street. Shouts and gunshots came after, and Gene held her more tightly. He heard pounding from nearby, and realized there were stairs that led to the roof, most likely for utility men. Silver fans gleamed as they spun in the quickening breeze, blowing his tie over one shoulder and their hair out of their faces with its force.

"This way…" he said as the doors buckled, and tugged her along towards the edge of the tar beach.

"Oh god… I didn't want… I couldn't…" she whispered. "I don't want anyone to be hurt because of…"

"Shh, trust me, they're professionals, and they AREN'T the best money can buy for nothing," Gene whispered. "Sounds like you were 100 percent right about WHO they are… and you're smart to involve me, because I know these assholes… they're the Syndicate…"

"Good god…" she whispered. "Gene… your men…"

"Wrap yourself around me doll, and close your eyes…" he barked, as he set his foot on the edge of the window.

Wind whipped from overhead, and she did as he asked, clinging to him as tightly as if she were about to have intimate sex. She held back her scream as he leapt off the side of the building, and the staccato crack of guns sounded from below. Something grazed past her cheek, and she saw the smoke rising from a hole in the building where her apartment had once been. From above she heard the sound of what seemed to be a nearing helicopter, and felt a sharp jerk as Gene seized something in both hands. "Hold on, don't let go…" he continued to shout. "Keep your eyes SHUT…"

"I trust you Gene, I trust you," she whispered as she felt them swinging back and forth, and then opened one eye a crack. The whole street was visible and she saw the men in dark clothes running about in the alley, and the billowing smoke spilling upwards into the atmosphere. Gene was holding onto a ladder and climbing hand over hand up it into an unmarked helicopter. The distance between them and the target increased and Dominique realized they were pulling away as he was climbing. He must be one incredibly strong man to be clinging to a rope ladder and carrying both her and his own weight in midair. Again she squeezed shut her eyes, and clung to him for the next half hour as she heard the chopper droning out all other sights and sounds.

Movement was followed by silence. She opened her eyes, and saw that Gene stood in the cargo area of the chopper, and she glanced down with a sick feeling in her stomach at the door which one of the men was pulling shut. New York City spread out under them, in the afternoon, and she could still see the plume of smoke rising from the city block where her building was located. "God, all those people… are they…"

"They're unharmed… those idiots will think it's a fire," Gene reassured her as she let go of him, and he set her on her feet carefully. "And don't worry. Better the fire company come and have it be a false alarm, and those rats run after Miguel on a wild goose chase then harm innocents…"

"It's because of me…" she sniffled, and gritted her teeth in anger. "All those people could get hurt…"

"Don't even blame yourself," Gene said firmly. "This is part of what the Simmons Foundation does…"

"I thought… I heard you were bounty hunters… in addition to…" she stammered out as he led her to a seat in the front cabin, behind the pilot.

"You're right," Gene said with a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Although how you figured THAT out…"

"C'mon, I'm not stupid," she mumbled. "And I DO work for… by all rights you should be hunting ME down…"

"No," Gene said firmly. "We hunt down criminals and threats to society. You don't qualify as either…"

"But I could be a threat…"

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Gene said as he pulled off his coat and draped it around her shivering shoulders. He sat on the seat next to her, and put his arm around her shoulders.

"This is not happening," Dominique whispered. "God… my friends my… I can't go back, can I? I hate to ask and be a pain, but are you taking me to some safe house or will I have to be put in some…"

"You're going to someplace safe, where we can learn more about your powers," Gene said softly. The pilot didn't even seem to notice them as Gene stroked her hair, and she fought back the sickness in her stomach.

"Yes, I thought so," she whispered and gave him a faint smile. "I knew it would come to this… but better you than those criminals…"

"You're damn right," Gene nodded. "You're lucky I found you first… damn lucky. And I must be an amateur not to have noticed…"

Dominique pulled his coat around her shoulders, fighting back tears. Her whole life seemed to be vanishing with the spires of the city moving under them, and the sun that was setting. Wherever they were going, she was sure she wasn't going to see her apartment anytime soon. Did Gene having seen her powers, suddenly think of a use for her other than an obvious one?

He excused himself to moved forward and spoke instructions to his pilot, Fischer, and pick up the cell phone to make necessary calls. She accepted the cup of coffee that the other person in the chopper, a woman dressed in a black suit and sunglasses offered her.

"You did the right thing, Miss Goldstein," she reassured her. "He'll make sure you're safe…"

"Do you know…" she whispered.

"No more than Mr. Simmons himself will tell us, we aren't paid to ask questions, only do what he tells us," said the woman with a smile. "If you need anything, I’m Winterborne. And that's Fisher… and you'll meet the others soon…"

"I guess you're getting the lab ready," she chuckled.

"You're a valuable scientist, and Mr. Simmons said there might be some problems if you disappeared so quickly," said Winterborne.

"Then he did know that I wasn't at work he did…"

"Naturally. He performs research on ALL his employees, when they are under threat. Especially in this business…"

"The Foundation, it's a RD fence for this… this… isn't it?" she whispered.

"Your division didn't have the clearance. But seeing as the Syndicate's onto us… you're going to have to know more than you ever thought was possible… if he decides," said Winterborne. "Don't worry… we have a 100 percent success record…"

"With bounties?" asked Dominique.

"I see you know more than we thought," Winterborne laughed ironically. "But you're not the threat. They are. And if they're going to such trouble to get their hands on you… it's far better that you're here instead of there…"

"Shit," she mumbled as she sipped her coffee. "I don't want to owe anyone anything…"

"That doesn't apply here, Miss," said Winterborne. "Here, you learn a whole new way of doing business. But we're not in the business of judging. Just in keeping the streets safe. For everyone. And you'll never have to worry again about them, if you choose not to…"

Dominique was too tired to deal with any of this. She felt her head swimming, and felt a bolt of suspicion as her eyes grew heavy, and she stretched out on the seat, feeling sleep overcome her. A hint of something tagged her throat, and she suddenly realized she had been drugged.

"Oh fuck," she muttered as she drifted away, and knew no more.

***