Better Late then Never

[Trask]

Simmons had actually had to raise his voice in order to convince the enthusiastic Baltimore police that the dead girl was not the one that had caused the chaos in the parking lot. It had been a dead man, quite possibly THE dead man from the attack on the NovaTeX facility.

At least now he knew why she had heard his voice in her head. He had come for her. But she had saved him.

Saved him from death anyway.

Largo had escaped with a case of concussion and two cracked ribs while Daniels and Kurshaw had suffered an assortment of minor cuts and bruises brought on from fighting with the living dead. Daniels had even managed to give a pretty good account of himself after overcoming his initial horror.

Benson was dead. Worse than dead in fact; he had left with the dead man, a shadow of his former self.

For that Simmons was filled with regret. He hadn't known the man for very long; he'd only been brought on board at the back end of the Sentinel project to assist with ballistics, but he had seemed like a decent man. Now he was a shambling corpse.

The following morning he'd insisted they be discharged, regardless of the protestations given by the attending doctor. The medical facilities back in Washington were superior anyway and their security was a hundred times better.

So it was that ten thirty in the morning found a somewhat battered and worn science team on the road to Washington. Daniels was driving, Largo's ribs relegating him to the passenger seat while Kurshaw and Simmons rode in the back with the dead girl.

Simmons touched a hand to his bandages head and winced slightly. He had a feeling he'd be feeling that for awhile.

"How are you this morning?" He asked the girl. She had clearly been as traumatised, if not more so, than they by the attack.

"Can you still sense him?"

[deadgirl]

The girl kept her hood over her head and her hands tucked into her sweatshirt. Daniels had still not gotten used to her and the attack by Dead Man hadn't helped their relationship any.

Spacing out in the back of the van, she'd been listening to the faint murmur of the dead, lingering here and there. When Simmons spoke she raised her head, the faint light of the inside of the van catching on her ruby red eyes.

Thinking for a moment, she nodded. "You know what it feels like when you can sense someone's eyes on you? It's like that. I can't hear his thoughts, but he has his mind on me." She looked away. It was a strange feeling. The pulse by which she set the pace of her new life.

And yet she was so relieved to be leaving with Simmons and his team. That little conflict, she hadn't quite settled in her mind.

"Theo said I was a mutant, you know." Her eyes shifted back to him. "A telepath."

[Trask]

"Really?"

He nodded absently, "that could well have contributed a great deal to what has happened to you and explain why you hear the voices so clearly. The two powers may have merged in some way to create a new power."

If that was the case it was the first documented example of the mutation of mutation; the hybridising of abilities. Genetics and mutant biology may not have been his first field of study but he was starting to get a feel for things.

"And you said you were able to give a dead bird the semblance of life?"

Fascinating.

"How did his presence make you feel?"

[deadgirl]

The dead girl's eyes cast downward; the tone in her voice was precisely what it might be had he asked her about her sex life, or any other intimate detail.

"Comforting. Like a father, or a lover. Masterful. It's like... having a hand at your back when you are afraid."

She swallowed out of reflex; not because she needed to.

"But then beneath it..." she kept staring at the floor of the van, eyes unfocused. "Fear. Not.. screaming, panicky fear. But something deeper. Like a nightmare, how it grabs you somewhere in your subconscious."

She looked up at him. "When I told him not to kill you, he threw me backwards. Then I felt pain- I haven't felt pain at all before that. It was the worst migraine magnified a thousand times, crawling up and down my limbs." The look on her face communicated both the physical and emotional pain of that moment.

Wincing and turning her head away, she made a soft gagging sound. Or was that a sob.

[Trask]

Simmons nodded slowly.

He didn't understand, couldn't understand in fact, but it helped to have it described. The fact that she had rejected the only other of her kind to save him had also struck a chord.

You are a good person.

He'd never really thought much about it. He didn't think he was a bad person. A little distant perhaps, a little too focused on his work but then he liked what he did.

It was obvious that discussing the dead man made her uncomfortable.

"Well you will be safe with us," he said with certain amount of confidence. Breaking into the secure facility, even when you were dead, would be no mean feat.

They sat in silence for awhile, the rumbling of the road passing beneath them the only sound in the equipment-filled truck.

"Are the other voices quieter now that we are away from the hospital?"

[deadgirl]

The dead girl lifted her head out of the sleep-ish trance she'd fallen into. Though sleep never came, she had to occasionally force her mind to stop. If she didn't she might go mad. Maybe she already was; in any case, it made her feel better.

"Yes.. they're not as crowded. I can hear them as we pass. The dead on the highway who are stuck there."

The road noise filled the space between them for a few minutes before she spoke again.

"I want to try that thing I did with the bird again." She was frowning curiously. It had been terrifying, but if she did it intentionally maybe it wouldn't be so bad. "And some other things. I want to find out everything I can do."

Then she looked at him. "What's your first name?"

[Trask]

He wondered what the range was on the voices of the dead and then marveled at the idea that he was wondering how far the voices of the dead carried. Two days ago he would not have believed for one moment that he would be seriously considering such concepts as life after death.

Yet here it was, sitting in front of him in blatant defiance of his scientific ideals.

"I would be happy to let you experiment once we get back to the lab, it may go some way to helping us understand your own unique nature."

He touched his forehead again, knowing full well that it would still hurt but suffering from the all too human need to fuss.

He winced.

Yes, it still hurt.

"Oh and my name is Brent," he offered, "Doctor Brent Simmons at your service."

He gave her a gentle smile.

She had made it abundantly clear that she wanted to distance herself from her old identity. Being reminded of what had come before seemed to distress her.

"What would you like us to call you?"

[deadgirl]

"Brent..." she said softly, and smiled a little. "That's a good name."

Frowning a little, she sat thoughtfully before answering. "You know... I don't think Moonbeam is so bad. Though I liked it a lot better when Theo called me Moon or Beam or Beamer. Moonbeam reminds me of my mother."

She was stunned by the words as soon as she heard them fall from her lips, and looked at Brent a little wide eyed.

"Before you ask, no, I don't remember anything." Looking a bit spooked, she shook her head.

"Anyway. It came to me at some point that keeping my mortal name was kind of... like keeping my identity." She looked back at him. "If I'm still Moon, then the Dead Man doesn't own me."

[Trask]

"Moon it is then," he agreed with a nod.

"And this is Stephen Kurshaw," the other scientist in the back gave her a small nod and tentative smile. He was starting to get used to the idea that she wasn't going to pounce on them and devour their brains despite his zombie movie education.

"You have met John Largo who is in the front looking after our most junior member and current driver, Craig Daniels."

He tilted his head back to indicate the cab, wished he hadn't and winced.

"You will have to forgive Mr. Daniels his slightly skittish nature, he has had some bad experiences with both mutants and the dead for one so young. He will warm up though."

Simmons peered through the little window that divided the rear of the vehicle and the cab. Largo was pointing at a road map and rolling his eyes while Daniels shook his head at the older man's observation.

"When we get back to the lab you may well meet Bolivar Trask, you might have heard of him already though."

[deadgirl]

Moon nodded to those he indicated, in turn, offering a reserved sort of smile.

"It's okay... really. I mean I know I look completely bizarre." She talked to all of them at the same time, really, as if wanting to let them know she wasn't Simmon's property.

"But I figure I have bigger things to worry about than my girlish pride." She smirked.

Looking at Simmons, she ran her fingers through her hair. "Besides. Believe or not it's kind of a relief to have everyone want to stay away from you. It's... quiet. OR something."

"No clue who that guy is, no. Do you have... a PLAN for me or anything? Or just taking advantage of my willingness to oblige your morbid curiosity." She smirked again. Smart. Dead, but smart.

[Trask]

"A plan?"

Simmons actually looked taken aback. "Not really no. The facility is a safe place for you, but you will be free to leave any time you want, I just want to help you understand what has happened to you and how to go on."

He paused and quirked an eyebrow.

"Of course, I can't deny that the opportunity to study your rather unique abilities is something that interests me greatly as long as you are comfortable with the idea."

He adjusted his glasses and rubbed the three days worth of grey stubble that dominated his chin.

"As for morbid, it is all science to me."

[deadgirl]

Moon smiled a bit.

"That works for me." She thought for a second, that smile crawling across her drab green lips. "My personal exploration is your scientific discovery. Weird."

Tugging the sleeve of her sweatshirt down past her fingers, she relaxed against her seat, content to drift off again.

"Just know that... obviously, since I've decided to do this, I don't really care what happens." Her red eyes shifted in his direction. "I'm up for donating my body to science, if that's where this ends up leading."

[Trask]

Simmons gave her a small smile.

"Actually, in the biochemistry facility where I first studied, there was a man who," he was interrupted by his cell-phone ringing. He pulled the device from his pocket and examined the number displayed on the front.

"Ah, excuse me, I can't really avoid this call," he apologised.

He flipped the phone open and put it to his ear.

"Simmons!"

"Hello Karen," he greeted the speaker on the other end of the phone.

He looked a little relieved.

"No. Yes, we are on our way back now."

"Yes, there was an incident at the hospital, a bad one."

It was obvious that he was in fact going to have to dictate a full report over the phone for the secretary to pass on. He glanced at Moon and shrugged apologetically.

Then he recounted the events of the last two days for the benefit of Mr. Trask.

He was lucky they still had plenty of driving to do.