Get back in the fucking house, you shit! Ben screamed in Tom’s head. Don’t make it easy for the bastards! Bad enough you didn’t ditch the area!

The derision ringing through his brain, Tom rolled over and fought back the mental agony of the lie that kept him from his brother the past six years. Pain, the real, physical kind, gnawed through his left thigh, sending shooting waves up into his abdomen. Cringing, he tried to push to his feet, only to go down and crawl towards the door on both hands and his right knee. Tom used the knob to lift his weight back upright and balanced precariously on his right leg.

The door accepted his print, and the doctor hobbled through the slight opening, panic rising as the sirens grew louder. Shutting the door cut the sound of them down, Tom let out a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding.

“What happened?” Mira’s high, frightened voice was suddenly right next to him and despite what he wanted, his body lurched. “Is he gone?”

“Yes,” Tom breathed, losing his balance and nearly falling into the sunken living room.

Mira grabbed his arm, steadying him. “Are you okay?”

He turned his stricken expression on the shorter woman, “It was my brother.”

Mira’s face decayed in horror; her hold of his shirt loosening and then falling away. “What?”

Tom’s hand was shaking as he pointed towards the door, “Dan…that man who…” he licked his lips, “that was Steve.”

Mira paused a second, not really understanding what Tom was telling her. “No, his name was Dan. That’s what Turner called him.”

“Dan…Daniel,” Tom spit, anger and dread rising in his chest, “is my brother’s middle name.”

Mira looked at him blankly for long moments.

“My brother,” Tom repeated, sounding and feeling very much like a broken record. “and that means…he’s been working for Turner since the accident.”

He rubbed his hand across his lips, feeling how numb they were. He twisted towards the three steps, forgetting in that moment the damage to his already weak left leg. Tom stumbled down into the sunken room, crashing into the high padded arm of his couch.

“You’re hurt?” She was again next to him, helping him settle into the cushions. He cradled the swelling and feverish lump where cybernetics had violently met his flesh. He drew a shocked breath when Mira mirrored him. “Dear God, what did he do?”

“His legs’re – cybernetic. I think he crushed some of the chips. My ankle and foot are numb. The leg doesn’t want to support me at all.”

He watched Mira’s mismatched eyes widen, as the implications became immediately understood. “You’re lucky he didn’t break your leg!”

“If he’d been trying, I’m sure he would have,” Tom whispered.

Both of them looked towards the door as the sirens’ wails came to a halt at the driveway.

“I…need my cane…upstairs,” he panted. “The police are here for me. Bring it to me and then go back upstairs and stay there.”

“Why?” When he didn’t answer her immediately, she made him look at her. “What did you do?”

“Turner…I…Ben…tried to kill him.”

Mira swallowed, “Because of me?”

Tom nodded, unable to elucidate on the matter.

Pounding at his door interrupted anything he was going to say to her. Glancing at the door, the doctor grimaced and then looked at her again. “Get the cane, and stay out of the way.”

“No!”

“Mira, I don’t want you involved in this.”

“I’m the reason you’re in trouble Doctor Martin. I’m not going to let Turner just slip out of the noose here. He had me abducted; I’m going to make sure they know that.”

With a sigh, Tom conceded. He motioned for her to get the cane even as the police pounded on his door a second time.

“Thomas Martin! This is the police, open the door!”

“Coming!” he bellowed, watching Mira skitter away.

You’re going to go down without a fight? What the fuck!

“Shut up, Ben,” Tom muttered, “I’ll handle this.”

Like the Titanic handled that iceberg.

Tom grimaced and struggled to his feet once more; ignoring how Ben’s fuming caused the ache to return in his left temple. He needed a migraine right now like an actual hole in the head. There wasn’t much chance of him talking himself out of what he’d let Ben do. He knew that he needed to find a way to get Mira into protection from Steve – from Turner.

Mira returned in very short order with the silver headed cane Tom thought he’d seen the last of. Taking a deep breath, the doctor leaned on the device and slowly made his way to the door.

“Tom Martin! This is your last warning, open the door or we’re breaking in.”

“Fat chance,” he whispered under his breath. The door was reinforced steel with a welded frame. Short of a tank, they weren’t breeching his house through the front door. However, despite the fleeting thought of holing up in here and making them work for his arrest, he keyed the lock and pulled the entrance open. Three uniformed officers stood just the other side, hands on their holsters.

Before he could say much of anything, they burst through his door and into the foyer. Two of them roughly spun him around, only to have to catch him when his leg collapsed. His cane clattered counterpoint on the tile of the foyer.

“Tom Martin, you’re under arrest for five counts of aggravated assault, and one count of kidnapping.”

He started to protest the last part, only to be roughly handled when he opened his mouth. His throat got thick, and he sat on the desire to further deny their claim. It would be futile – there were too many witnesses to Turner’s attack, and if they found out about Mira. He hadn’t realized that Turner would try to pin this on him. Sly bastard – and Tom had left himself open for it.

The doctor turned his head as one of the other officers addressed Mira.

“Who are you?”

“She’s one of my patients!” Tom spoke up, finally. If she admitted who she was, they were going do have more evidence to their claim of kidnapping. “She has nothing to do with this. She just stopped by for a consult.”

“No, no damn it.” Mira grabbed his arm as the officer tried to turn his attention back to Tom. “No. He did it because of me.”

“What are you talking about? Who are you?”

“Mira Stevenson,” in a move that surprised him, Mira thrust her chin towards Tom and added, “his girlfriend.”

The police officer nearest her straightened. “You were reported missing three days ago by your co-workers. You’re neighbors reported that you’d been taken forcefully from your house. We were told that this man did it.”

“I was!” Tom watched tears well in her human eye and spill down her cheek. “But not by him! Tom was trying to protect me.”

“Meaning?”

“I was kidnapped – by a man working for Scott Turner. I managed to escape and came here. When I told him what happened – he went to confront Turner.”

“Why didn’t you go to the police right off? Why didn’t you report it?”

“I was scared, officer – I mean,” Tom suppressed a grim smile when she held up her exposed cybernetic arm and the man flinched, “look at me. I didn’t think I would get any help!”

“Are you willing to file a report now?”

“Yes, statements and everything. Please, don’t arrest Dr. Martin.”

“Sorry, he’s suspected of a crime.” The man’s expression turned callous. “He has to come in.”

“No please.”

“Mira, it’s okay.” Tom nodded and blinked slowly. A moment later they pulled him upright by the collar of his shirt and turned him towards the door.

“This way, Miss.” He heard trail him.

Tom didn’t resist the men as they walked him towards their car. They were less than congenial as they folded his six-four frame into the tiny back seat. He thumped his head on the small side window, truly regretting ever letting Ben have his way. The doctor was surprised further when they put Mira in the front passenger’s seat of the car and shut the door. Watching her, he waited for the driver to get in the seat, knowing he wouldn’t get any kind of chance to thank her for standing up for him.

Mira immediately turned to look at him through the protective cage. “You okay?”

“My leg hurts, and my shoulders are starting too as well.”

“Your shoulders?”

“It’s probably psychosomatic.” He averted his eyes, thumping his head on the window once again. “It still happens.”

There was a momentary silence before Tom shifted, sitting up straighter as he leaned closer to the division.

“Why’d you do that?”

She shook her head, “Do what?”

“I’ve done every possible thing wrong to you – with you – for you, and you go and tell them you’re my girlfriend?” Tom sighed. “I figured by now you’d be running from me, not latching on.”

Mira shrugged and turned a little, propping herself there with her left shoulder. “I don’t know…I guess I could blame it on my memories. You were the first one I thought of, the one I knew I could trust. How could I put you in that kind of situation and not take at least some of the responsibility for the results.”

Tom licked his lips. “You didn’t have to.”

He refocused as he saw motion through the window.

Quickly, Mira said, “I know,” and faced front.

The ride back remained silent. Tom knew better than to try and beg the officer for leniency, plead his case. That decision wouldn’t be up to that man anyway. He merely watched the changing scenery outside the glass as an excuse to watch Mira from the corner of his eye. He wasn’t sure what to think of that part of this little dilemma. The idea that she claimed such an intimate connection as “boyfriend” was a touch boggling for him. He certainly didn’t deserve that kind of relationship with her. A part of his brain worked over the idea whether she was interested in trying to rekindle a romance that should have died with his lost memories.

Despite all the other problems facing him, hope decided to squirrel through his gut.

Once the patrol car arrived at the police station, things changed drastically. Mira was escorted out of the front passenger’s seat as he was made to wait. He watched her go for as long as he could see her, already knowing that he wouldn’t lay eyes on again her for a long time to come. She was all too soon out of his sight. An officer came back to the car and around to his side. Opening the door, he grabbed Tom by one elbow and yanked him out of the car.

His escort was a completely different direction.

The next hour was enough to put even the most docile person in a foul mood. It was obvious that Turner had let them in on the secret that Tom was more than he seemed, and they were taking no precautions. Everywhere he was taken, he was escorted by heavily armed policemen in riot gear – more like dragged because they wouldn’t give him his cane, and his leg had completely stopped responding because of the pain in his thigh.

One officer escorting him even had an exo-suit on. They were new and highly experimental – and had been implemented to deal with gemues who were often stronger and more resilient than their human counterparts. Tom had no doubt that the combination would be more than even Ben could handle on his own.

Ben scoffed at the idea, but had no verbal comeback what so ever. A small grin crawled over Tom’s lip that he’d been able to silence the madman’s ranting – an almost constant since he’d been put in the backseat.

By the time he was arraigned and booked, his body shook with anger and embarrassment and Ben making noise in his head. He was actually looking forward to the holding cell until they could process his bail.

500,000 credits he would never get back, but he would rather lose the income than a chance at a little freedom between now and when they threw him back in here for good. The judge had been convinced by Mira and the officers’ accounts that Tom was not a flight risk. They were to fit him with a house arrest band to track his whereabouts until his court date, and any infractions would cost him.

The two officers practically carried him into the cell and plopped him onto the bench and then retreated to the hall. Tom didn’t even watch them slam it shut and lock it. Immediately his hand was at his temple trying to concentrate on his techniques for dealing with migraines. He folded his long body over so he could hide his eyes in the crook of his elbow, cutting the light that was becoming increasingly painful. There were about eight others in the cell with him, but he closed his awareness of them down along with any sight of the detritus of human society.

That was probably a mistake on his part.

“Hey buddy?” A gruff voice cut through the pain, making shards which further agonized his already aching brain. A thick hand tapped him on one shoulder. “Hey meat!”

“Leave me alone.” Tom muttered into his elbow, the sound of his voice muffled by flesh and cloth.

“I’m talking to you meat. Whatcha got of value?”

Tom sat up so quickly, he actually startled his harasser. “I told you to leave me alone.”

He felt the pain and anger on his features.

The man laughed and closed distance on him. “You’re funny, scarecrow. Give me your valuables, and I won’t beat the living crap out of you.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Tom uttered, shifting on the bench, extending his right leg out.

“Yeah, your right, I’m going to fuck you up anyway.”

“Uh, huh.”

“One way or another, you’re shit’s going to be mine.”

“Go for it.” Tom even held the watch on his wrist towards the man.

Predictably, his greed overrode any caution at the lack of fear in Tom’s voice or the ease at which he cowed to the man’s demands. The superiority on his face grew when he reached for the band around Tom’s slim wrist.

So swiftly that the perp couldn’t react to defend himself, Tom snatched the man’s right wrist with his left hand and wrenched it over, even as he hooked his foot into the man’s ankle and took the leg out from under him. Swinging with his right arm, he took the man across the throat with the flat of his forearm. Tom twisted at the waist, sliding his right arm until his fingers were latched about the man’s throat, and slammed him with everything he had to the deck.

Leaned over into the burly man’s face, Tom pulled back his collar, allowing the man to see what he was up against. The man’s eyes widened as Tom growled, “I warned you to leave me the fuck alone.”

He squeezed the man’s windpipe, threatening to crush it, before releasing him. His would be assailant lay gasping, choking and coughing on the floor. Tom righted his upper body, cradled his bad leg as it reminded him that movement was detrimental to the healing process, and then leaned back against the concrete blocks at his back.

With lidded eyes he watched the harasser drag himself away, and then allowed his gaze to wander, seeing fear and awe in the faces of the rest of the captives to the justice system. Crossing his arms over his chest, Tom finally allowed his body to relax.

A moment later, he realized that his migraine was gone; Ben had stopped chattering at him. Somewhere near the dark little cell Ben was locked in, he thought he felt satisfaction.

“Oh, fuck off,” Tom whispered, “I’m not going to let myself be victimized.”

I’m impressed, was Ben’s only addition to the silence that had fallen in his brain.

Whatever.

NEXT UP: Not certain...

Because once again I'm back to writing brand new material!