Yes, another story. I love this one though! It came from an epic dream I had not too long ago XD I couldn't get it out of my head! Now here we are. The site STILL won't let me really edit anything…'cause of course it's still not working…but…yeah. I am seriously about done with this site. As soon as I find something better (that I'm not also on already XD) I'm done. So…let me know if there's other sites I might not know about, yeah? I prefer them to be free but we'll see ;)

Anyway…yeah, the story XD I would write a synopsis but…honestly it keeps changing. I mean I want to stay with the original idea from the dream, but yet I have so many options and directions I could take it! So…yeah. But, once the site LETS ME EDIT things correctly, I will put a summary on my profile. K? K. So get on them about it! I have tried. Either my email isn't going through or they're ignoring me.

Anywho, I've yammered on long enough XD Read on!



Chapter One

"Tell me, in the last two months, has your life changed at all?" Dr. Richards' voice was smooth and calm but held an underlying boredom which actually made Malcolm smirk. At least he wasn't the only one not enjoying this.

"Nope," he replied swiftly. He leaned back into the soft cushions of Dr. Richards' long and obnoxiously wide couch.

"Any new jobs?" Dr. Richards asked while writing something on his clipboard. That board. Oh, how Malcolm wanted to throw it out the window! He didn't like the way the good doctor kept writing things on it, no matter what he said or didn't say.

"Missions?" Malcolm corrected with a shrug. "No. Not really."

Things had been quiet lately. No need for people like him.

"I see. And how does this make you feel?"

"Jeez, doc. Could you sound more like an uptight therapist?" He shook his head and snorted before he blew back the dark brown strands which curved around his face. There were always a few strands which he could never quite fit into his ponytail. "I feel fine."

That wasn't entirely true. He actually felt anxious and ready to do something, but he wasn't going to tell him that.

"I see." More scribbling on the clipboard. All Malcolm could hear was the scratch of that stupid ink pen. "Any outbursts since we last saw each other?"

"No." Malcolm paused and then shook his head. "Yes. No. Maybe."

He didn't want to talk about it, but he couldn't in good conscious lie to a man who hated this situation as much as he did. Dr. Richards could argue all he wanted, but he was still bored. It was hard to argue with body language.

"What happened to cause this outburst? What happened during it?" He held his pen at the ready.

Oh, jeez. Here we go.


"Why did you have an outburst? Surely something caused it, Malcolm. Come, now. Don't be shy. We're friends here."

At that, Malcolm could only just suppress his snort. They were a lot of things, but they certainly weren't friends. Perhaps reluctant correspondents, but nothing more.

"Who caused the outburst?"

"No one."

"Did you use an outlet like we discussed?"

"Duh, doc, that's kind of the whole problem." Malcolm scowled. "No one ever complains about my outbursts when I don't use an outlet. They only send me here if I use an outlet, please keep up."

At this, the therapist paused.

He was just a therapist but Malcolm still called him doctor. Mostly because this guy was used in many places, mostly concerning the mind, but he was also certified to assist in surgery if absolutely needed due to his knowledge of the brain, which qualified him in Malcolm's book.

"And whom did you take your frustrations out upon this time?"

"Who do you think? Will."

"William. Ah, yes." More quick scribbles on the clipboard. His hand was moving so fast Malcolm wondered if he'd be able to read his own handwriting later. "This seems to happen frequently, Malcolm."

"No shit."

"Tell me, Malcolm, I'm curious. Isn't Will your friend?"


Malcolm didn't really have 'friends' but if anyone qualified, he was sure Will did. The two of them hadn't quite had a choice in the matter as they'd been thrown together at an early age. He didn't know much about friends or friendship, but he was pretty certain he and Will were closer than that - more like family.

"If he is your friend, then why do you continue to take your anger out on him?"

"I dunno." Truthfully, he didn't. He was trying to stop but it was hard. "He's just always there."

"He is your friend. And partner."

Malcolm shrugged. In their line of work and experience, one could never work alone. They were assigned partners at a young age so they could grow to know one another and work well together.

"And yet," Dr. Richards continued, fingering through the pages on his clipboard, searching for notes he'd written in their earlier meetings, "I am seeing a pattern."


"You lash out at him a lot, I'm seeing."


But it wasn't like Will was perfect - he did his fair share of lashing.

He just hid it better.

"Have you practiced those techniques I told you about?"

"You mean talking?" A slow smirk crossed Malcolm's face as he leaned forward somewhat. "Talking is what gets me into these situations. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but when I open my mouth to 'lash out', I have to use words which involves, now correct me if I'm wrong, but it involves talking."

"You are lashing out at me as well, I see." More notes. "There is no need to get defensive, Malcolm."

"I'm not."

More scribbling. Malcolm fought down the urge to snatch the pen out of his hands and throw it across the room. Why was he even here? He never enjoyed it, never wanted to come, so why did he?

Well, it wasn't like he had a choice. He was forced to be here anyway…might as well talk.

"What was Will doing to incur your release on frustrations?"


"Nothing? So you are telling me you lashed out without reason?" His pen was poised at the ready as he peered at Malcolm over his thick, black rimmed glasses. They made his dark eyes appear comically huge.

Malcolm shrugged. "It's stupid."

At the time, it hadn't seemed stupid, but now, when he thought back on it…

It had been wrong to lash out as he had for such an asinine reason.

"Nothing is stupid," Dr. Richards corrected. "I'm sure it mattered to you, so why don't you tell me."

Malcolm took in a breath and released it slowly. "He wouldn't shut up."

"Oh? Is this the same Will you said rarely talked?" A dark brow quirked in question.

"He talks," Malcolm said, "he just doesn't around a lot of people. Anyway, I was trying to ignore him and he wouldn't shut up."

"Why were you trying to ignore him?"

"Dunno. Don't remember. Doesn't seem important now."

"I see." More rapid notes. "Have you tried those breathing techniques I suggested?"

"I have an image to uphold. If I'm caught meditating or whatever, no one would ever take me seriously again."

"So I take it that is a no?"

"No, I haven't."

"I see."

This guy sure saw a lot, didn't he? Malcolm scowled at him and folded his arms across his chest as he sat back into the cushions again.

"So, Malcolm, tell me about your job."

"You already know about it."

It wasn't like this guy couldn't know about it. He was hired by Superior Inc. after all.

"Why don't you tell me in your own words."

"It's a job."


"What do you want me to say, doc? It's a job. I do the work. I get paid. I go to sleep. End of story." He shrugged, his shoulder rolling back lazily.

"Why do you think you were chosen for this job?"

"For which job? Be more specific, please."

"Why do you think you were chosen by Superior Inc.?"

"That's better. Well, I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the fact I can talk to animals, but that's just me. For all I know it could be for my handsome looks and gorgeous smile." He flashed a smile Dr. Richards' way. "But, again, that's just me."

"I see. When was the last job you went on?"

"You mean mission," Malcolm corrected again. "And it was about two weeks ago. It's been slow."

"Isn't that good?"

"I guess."

"What did this last 'mission' of yours require?"

"You mean what did we do?" Malcolm shrugged again. "Nothing much. Saved a woman from a burning building."

"You and Will, correct?"

"Yup." But Dr. Richards knew that already. Why he kept making him say things he already knew, Malcolm had no idea.

"How was the job?"

"Not hard, if that's what you're asking."

"I see." More scribbling. When was that paper going to be full? When was that pen going to run out of ink? "How do you feel about doing these jobs?"

"Your inner therapist is showing," Malcolm felt the need to tell him before he rolled his eyes. "I feel fine. I don't mind." He actually enjoyed doing jobs because at least then he was doing something. He got bored easily and when he sat around doing nothing, it just made him feel anxious.

"How does Will feel about them?"

"I don't know. I'm not psychic. He's the telepathic one, not me."

"I am aware, but you two still share the Bond."

Ah, yes. The Bond. Capital 'B' and all. A bond had been formed between him and Will. Not just a bond between companions, but something more, something much more profound and engraved. Malcolm wasn't sure what to think of it because he hadn't even been aware of the bond taking place when he was little, but now he knew what it felt like to have that empathetic link connected to him at all times. It was carved into his very being, a constant reminder he wasn't alone, nor would he be, even if he was the only one in a town or building. A link circled around his mind, his soul, and his very being. A link he couldn't ignore, no matter how annoying it could be at times. A passageway from one mind to the next, connecting two people who otherwise might have been oblivious to one another.

"You do realize just because we share the Bond doesn't mean I know everything, right?" Malcolm shook his head, causing more loose strands to fall around his face. "He's gotten pretty good at keeping things to himself."

He wasn't entirely sure what to think of that. A part of him felt relieved because it meant he didn't have to deal with Will's thoughts about everything, but another part of him felt slightly offended. A part of him felt locked away, cut off from the link he was meant to understand, the link he was meant to practically live by.

"I see," Dr. Richards said with a slow nod before he wrote down more on his clipboard. "And how do you feel about that?"

"Hey, it's his mind. I've got no part in it."

"And is this what angers you?"

Malcolm stared at the doctor. "What? That has nothing to do with anything! Haven't you been listening? I was angry at him because he wouldn't shut up, not because he was being all quiet and kept to himself."

"There could be a misunderstood meaning."

"Such as?" Malcolm drawled. He was pretty sure he knew his mind better than this guy. After all, it was his mind.

"I am just saying that perhaps your aggression stems from elsewhere."


"You think it has to do with the fact Will wouldn't, as you say, 'shut up', but perhaps it stems from somewhere else." His wristwatch beeped and he peered down at it. Then he put the clipboard down on the coffee table which separated them and looked at Malcolm. "I'm sorry, that seems to be our time for today. Perhaps we should meet again in a week. Until then, I suggest you try some of those techniques I told you about and think about what I said." He smiled and it was so fake Malcolm had to suppress a laugh as he got to his feet. "Until next time, Malcolm."

"Mm, yeah." Malcolm walked out of the room without another word.


Superior Inc. was located in a castle. Well, this location was, anyway. From what Malcolm had heard, there were several locations across the globe. For him, it was in an obnoxiously large castle at the edge of a big city. He'd been there since he could remember. Everyone had.

The large, double oak doors opened upon his arrival. They had a doorman who let them in and out, but not after hours. It annoyed him how he still had a curfew even when he was twenty.

A spiral staircase greeted him and he scowled. They just had to live in a huge castle, didn't they? Up the stone stairs he went. He was greeted by a dark hallway. It was getting late and it was nearly curfew, so the lights were mostly off and there was no one in sight. Sighing, he edged down the hallway toward the door to the room he shared with his partner. Upon opening it, he was greeted by Will sitting at the desk, a lamp on in the corner.

"How'd therapy go?" Will asked casually without looking up from the book he was reading. He didn't even bother to look up and see who it was.

Malcolm shrugged and shut the door. "It was fine. How's your little reading thingy going?"

Will snorted. "It's not a crime to enjoy reading, Malcolm. Just because your brain won't process words doesn't mean the rest of us have to stop."

"Ooh, Willy made a joke." Malcolm smirked and stepped toward his bed. There were two twin beds in the room, at opposite ends. He and Will had been forced to live together since they were little, for as long as Malcolm could remember. They'd grown up in this room. It was home.

"What'd Richards say?"

"What didn't he say? That guy loves the sound of his own voice."

At this, Will glanced away from his book and toward Malcolm. His cerulean blue eyes scanned over Malcolm's face. "Well, for what it's worth, he must be doing okay because you didn't seem as annoyed this time."

"Gee, thanks. You're just lucky I'm an open book and you have the Great Wall of Will in your head."

Will's lips twitched in a brief smile. "It's not that you're an open book, it's just hard to ignore you. Even when you're gone, you're very loud and demanding."

"Wow, Will, you do wonders for my self-esteem, thank you."

"I try," Will said with a shrug. "I saved you some food if you're hungry. You were gone longer than I expected."

"Oh, thanks," Malcolm said with a smile. At least he'd never have to worry about going hungry with Will around. The guy ate all the time. He was a bottomless pit, always in search of food, but even so, he was like a twig. Malcolm was almost convinced he could hide behind a flagpole.

"It's in the microwave."

Malcolm moved toward their shared microwave. In their room, they had a mini-fridge and a microwave, but that was pretty much it. They also had a toaster somewhere around here but Malcolm hadn't seen it in forever. He was starting to think he'd imagined it had ever been there to start with. He opened the microwave and pulled out a plate wrapped in foil.

"It's chicken and dumplings," Will told him. "It's not that bad, though."

That was one perk of this job and living here - the food always seemed to taste good. Malcolm grabbed a fork and sat down on his bed, unwrapping the foil. He stabbed his fork into a plump piece of chicken and popped it into his mouth, getting comfortable as he shifted on his bed.

"So what's new?" he asked conversationally as he chewed.

Will scowled. "Cover your mouth," he said, shaking his head. He tossed his book aside. "Nothing much. I think we are wanted for a job, but I'm not sure."

"You think?" Malcolm asked before he could stop himself. "How do you know?"

Will just gave him a look.

"Right…telepathic, I forgot." Malcolm shook his head and slurped up his food. "So we are needed?"

"Not sure, but there's speculation."

"Speculation?" Malcolm's lips curved into a smile. "Willy, it makes me all tingly when you use such big words."

Will rolled his eyes. "Just because you're simple minded doesn't mean you have to get excited at big words, Mal."

Malcolm shrugged. "So?"

Will sighed. "Joseph's been thinking about it, but he's said nothing."

"Oh. What for? What's the job?"

"Dunno. He's keeping it on lockdown, even in his mind. Either that or he's gotten better at hiding things."

"Maybe," Malcolm said. "So do you think he'll have us do the job?" He could already feel his heart race at the thought. A chance to get out of this room! Out of this castle! He couldn't wait.

"Maybe. I know you're getting antsy."

"There are a few ants in my pants," Malcolm agreed. "But aren't you ready to get out?"

Will shrugged nonchalantly. "I actually like the downtime."

"Figures," Malcolm scoffed, shoveling down the last of his food. "Mr. Quiet and Stoic loves silence and inactivity. Go figure."


Malcolm shrugged and stood to drop his paper plate in the trashcan near the desk. He combed his finger through his hair and sighed. "I am so bored I can hardly stand it. I'm ready to get out."

"I know."

Of course he did. Not only was he telepathic, but they shared the Bond. Meanwhile, Malcolm could feel the calm flow through the link.

"Well…I guess we'll find out tomorrow," Malcolm said with a sigh.

Will nodded vaguely and snatched his laptop. "Guess so," he agreed. He put the laptop on the desk, opened it, and started typing.

"What could you possibly be typing? We haven't done anything - there's nothing to report," Malcolm grumbled, shaking his head.

And thank God Will wrote the reports. Malcolm couldn't handle staring at a computer screen for that long, struggling to put what had happened into words to be sent to their superiors, not just Joseph, but Candy and Sydney as well.

Joseph was in charge of handing out jobs to those located at the castle. Above him was Sydney, a stern yet timid guy with love handles. He oversaw what Joseph did and what a few other Superior Inc. officials did around the globe. Above him was Candy, a bitter woman who sounded like she always had a cold, her voice was always so scratchy. She oversaw the entire organization, from the kitchen staff to the higher ups. Needless to say, Malcolm didn't like her. Surprisingly, neither did Will. They were on the same page with this one.

"I type for more reasons than 'reports', Malcolm. Believe it or not, I do have friends outside of Superior Inc. You're not the only one I talk to."

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "You sure know how to make a guy feel special, Will."

"I try," was Will's simple response.


So…what do you think? Like it, hate it? Hmm? Should I continue or not? I promise it will get more exciting XD Anyway, thanks for reading and please review! It's my Golden Rule after all ;) Thanks!