Recall, recall the days of lore! When we kings of men, where made!

Stage 11

Recall, recall the days of lore! When we kings of men, where made!

Six months passed since the dramatic events that had occurred in the quarantine chamber. Both Miranda and Zechariah Fairchild had been admitted to the in-house ICU after their titanic face off.

 Miranda's situation had been dire. Her body had started to shut down, and had it not been for her proximity to Zechariah, she would have died. She had no recollection of her stay in ICU. The stress placed upon her mind and later her body, due to the sudden release of her paradoxical Gift had caused her cellular structure to break down.

To keep her from experiencing excruciating pain, she had been placed into a medical-induced coma. On occasion she would wake from intense fevered dreams, only to be overcome with pain. Inciting a mad rush by the medical staff to stabilize her.

Though Zechariah had fared the onslaught better than anyone had expected, with only a few weeks stay in ICU, Miranda hovered between life and death for three months.

It was near the end of her third month, that her metabolic rate accelerated, even as her healing factor rose exponentially. It was nothing short of miraculous when she woke up without pain. Her paradoxical Gift, now tied to Zechariah's, had a surprising side effect on her overall cell regeneration. So perfect was this regeneration that her physical rehabilitation had only taken fifteen days. A normal person with her damage would have been in rehab for two years, a Gifted person with healing abilities six months.

Now that both of their paradoxical Gifts were under control, their close proximity became even more important. What frustrated Lian and her fellow researchers was that both continued to share a Level 1 vinculum, instead of a Level 2.

After two more weeks of check-ups, she was allowed to have some separation from Zechariah. To kill two birds with one stone, Miranda decided to use this time to start practicing control over her paradoxical power.

Because her paradoxical power continued to elude her control, and fearing its volatile nature Lian ordered her back into the recently opened quarantine training area. There Miranda and her assigned instructor, worked to expedite Miranda's mental conditioning. The training was brutal and long of days. As she pushed herself into exhaustion on a daily basis.

On the fifth month since the event, Miranda and Zechariah's situation turned a little more complicated.

At some point during a particularly intense mental training exercise, she was assaulted by her paradoxical self. So violent and unexpected was the attack that she lost all control and in such a way that no one registered a change in her persona.

During a ruthless and calculating two hours, Miranda was able to see, hear and do nothing to stop her paradoxical self from draining the life force of three of her fellow students and five of the instructors.

To add insult to injury, her "other self" had started seducing one of the men into letting her out of her restraints. Trapped within her own body and in a moment of sheer desperation, she had cried out to Zechariah for help.

How Zechariah was able to hear her, she did not know, but when he made his way to the view chamber, he took immediate action. Unable to open the door from the outside due to security requirements of that training session, he used his paradoxical powers to rip the sealed door from its hinges. Gaining access, Zechariah then leveled a harsh rebuke against Miranda's other self.

The intensity of the rebuke and the strength of Miranda's desire to regain control brought about a Level 2 vinculum between them, a bond more commonly known as "the connection".

This inexplicable telesthesia link allows emotions, thoughts, ideas and even the essence of oneself to uninhibitedly flow between a paradoxically Gifted pair.

This unique phenomenon is only created between two paradoxical pairs, and the conditions for the pairing are equally mysterious. Considered to be a sacred bond between two paradoxical people, and a shared understanding that must never be broken.

One must never hurt or foul the bond.

Doing so brings about an emotional assault that damages the deepest being of each pair.

Though the timing of this particular connection was unexpected, Director Yang was taken by complete surprise when she entered the room and came to the grips with the situation.

The instant the connection was formed, Miranda regained control of herself as she dove head first into a wellspring of emotions that made up the core of Zechariah.

She felt the pain of his past, the loss of his parents, friends, comrades and the bittersweet one-sided Level 1 connection he had shared with her for years. This sudden rush of emotions brought her own feelings of shame.

How dare you feel sorry for yourself, Miranda! When Zechariah has suffered far worse!

Miranda had never shed such bitter tears. Her shame, his grief were too much to bear.

She collapsed kneeling on the floor, the weight of those emotions threatening to crush her. In the midst of her pain she ached to feel the forgiving arms of Zechariah around her, for only he could drive away this bitter cold.

Zechariah's response was just as dramatic.

He quickly removed his jacket and covered Miranda, pulling her into a tight embrace. The moment the two of them made physical contact, Miranda felt a surge of emotion so overwhelming that she could only classify it as unequivocal love.

Unfortunately the relief was only for a moment. As it triggered a furious flash of logic, and with it denial.

Why the hell do I feel this way for a perfect stranger! Clinging to this man like a schoolgirl mooning over her first crush!

How dare you affect me in such a manner! You don't even know me!

Why are you even touching me!

An overwhelming desire to strike him filled her consciousnesses, even as she pushed him away in a rather violent manner.

In the instant between her thoughts, her disdain and her need for violence, the vinculum relayed Zechariah's own response.

The hurt cut him marrow deep.

She saw the shimmer of tears within his eyes, though none fell. And even as she tried to apologize, she felt the connection between them close off. Even as he offered her a half smile in return.

"Nothing to apologize for, my dear." His words strong, convincing to those listening.

But she knew better.

He stood, gave the order that her training be suspended until she was cleared by medical and left her in the care of the incoming medical team. Miranda was on bed rest for a few days. Though he maintained the gentlest sort of smile when he visited her, the vinculum that they had once shared was no more than a whisper of its former self.

She couldn't, no matter how hard she tried, open the connection again.

After that day, he would visit to make sure she was taken care of. Some days he maintained a rather cheerful disposition, others his more stoic self came about.

She couldn't decipher whether or not this was his normal behavior. She had intended to ask Lian directly, Miranda was unable to find the time because Lian and her research team had discovered that their vinculum had a strange quality.

Unlike most vinculum that once established would last a lifetime, Zechariah and Miranda had to renew their pact every twenty-four hours. This added an additional layer of complexity between them, since there was a need to have physical contact to reestablish that connection.

On the tenth day of the sixth-month, she had been called in by Director Yang for a regular checkup on her progress. Miranda noted that the director seemed both surprised and concerned that her ability and mastery of her paradoxical powers were improving rapidly.

Miranda wasn't the type of woman to allow any nagging sensation to fester, so she confronted the good doctor, "Director Yang, could you please explain why my progress is making you look like I've taken away your favorite doll?"

Director Yang gave her a rather bemused, if not slightly surprised look, but didn't back down from the question. If anything she had less skill with diplomacy than Miranda.

"That's because you have, you little thief."

Miranda didn't even have a chance to blink before the good doctor continued.

"Not only have you two broken every statistical and scientific measurement, you've also made years of work unacceptably incomplete."

She leaned back in her chair and sighed.

"As a scientist I should welcome these anomalies; complacency shouldn't be part of the norm. I was blissful, and ignorant to label him a statistical improbability. I can't really do that anymore because of you."

Miranda's breath got unusually rapid as she edged a bit more to attention. She prayed that Director Yang would continue with her thought out loud.

"I always knew he was different from the other cases. But to manifest his paradoxical Gift, without a catalyst present is pure madness. Statistically improbable, a fluke generated by this massive machine we have been trying for decades to decipher. Even as his abilities charted our instrumentation off the scales. There was so much energy bursting from within that boy that none of our original equipment could quantify it, let alone measure the rate of power he could generate. Do you understand that Zechariah is the reason we had to change the way we measure all Gifted? Then we detected the traces of a pairing, and because of his awakened self we were led straight to you."

She took a moment as she leaned forward to pick up her cup of coffee. After a long sip, she continued.

"He was nineteen. At first we thought it was the de-stabilization of that catalyst, the rapid change a human body experiences from adolescence to adulthood."

She turned her piercing eyes to Miranda's direction.

"Then the more we calibrated our instrumentation, we realized it was your development that caused his paradoxical powers to manifest."

Miranda hated it when she was caught off guard. It happened twice in less than five minutes! Ridiculous!

Yet there she was, pointing to herself, a sudden image of a young girl claiming her innocence after being scolded by her school headmaster.

"Me? What did I do?" Miranda asked.

"You were twelve when your Gift was first noticed, were you not?"

Miranda just sat there looking even more perplexed.

Director Yan sighed interrupting her confusion, "Yes, it was."

"You, that silly little pig-tailed strawberry blonde. Even so, your powers were something to take note of; the only problem was that yours were not paradoxical in nature. Instead you were developing your Gift just as it had happened a thousand times before with a thousand other people."

She growled suddenly as she took another sip of her coffee.

"We failed you."

"We were so entranced by the new and exciting developments with Zechariah, we missed the dangers hidden deep within you. By orders, we left you to grow up undisturbed. Then came that fateful day you've never been able to forgive yourself for - the accident. Had we known then that proximity could provoke your paradoxical self, into existence, we would have kept Zechariah away from you on that day."

Miranda was three for three, as she sprang to her feet.

"Zechariah was on the orbiter?" Her heart was racing, as revelation struck her like a brick. "So that's how you were able to stop me…"

She said this to herself, even as Director Yang nodded, setting down the coffee mug and exhaling.

"Yes, that's the only reason your paradoxical Gifted didn't drain the orbiter's power arrays. The truly puzzling part of the whole business was what you - well, your other self, said to him while you were in that trance-like state."

Miranda couldn't even bring herself to ask, but Director Yang was rather accommodating today.

"You said, 'A gift, to the reason of my existence.' Zechariah was never one to approve of senseless killings and I was assured in my own ignorance that he would surely disapprove of such an action, but instead he smiled almost as if in gratitude!"

The director shook her head, deciding that another sip of coffee was in order. Miranda clutched her hand over her breast. She couldn't breathe. She knew for a fact now that her paradoxical self had taken over on that day. She had blocked out the details as much as possible. She could barely remember the intense aftermath of the cataclysmic event.

She was suddenly terrified to know that her other self had done it on purpose. To sacrifice so many as a gift was beyond her comprehension.

Director Yang cleared her throat, then continued. "By our previous logic, you should have manifested right then and there, but Zechariah did the unthinkable. He prevented you from completing your natural transition. Instead he bound your Gifted side to your paradoxical side. He then forced your paradoxical self to submit and the person you are today was allowed to continue."

Miranda's head was spinning now.

"What do you mean, 'allowed to continue'?"

"Miranda Grey, the silly pig-tailed strawberry blonde, would have ceased to exist. As in, the person you are now at this moment would have for all intent and purposes, died."

Miranda's heart grew cold, her head stopped spinning as Director Yang's words began to seep in. Her eyes filled with fear.

"How can… how can that be?"

"We are not sure, but the person you are now was only intended to be a temporary shell. That is why you are called 'paradoxically Gifted.' The paradox is that in your search to control your paradoxical Gift you have to die so that your other self can emerge. It's much like the concept of a seed dying to give way to a sprout. That was until Zechariah chose you over the more powerful and better adaptable Kisandra."

Miranda even saw an almost regretful look on Director Yang's features. "She would have been perfect for Zech—"

Director Yang, stopped mid-sentence as Miranda slammed the palms of both hands down on her desk.

"H-How do you know about Ki?"

She hadn't spoken that name in almost fifteen years. No one could have known about Ki, no one!

Yang's eyebrow shot up. "Ki?"

"Ki…I mean…Kisandra was the name of my imaginary friend. I didn't outgrow her until I was twelve."

Director Yang's expression only reaffirmed the fact Kisandra was in fact, not just some child's imaginary friend. She leaned back in her chair and her fingertips created a small rectangle, her two index fingers moving to a rhyme only she could hear.

"What was she like, Miranda?"

Miranda felt sick to her stomach. She couldn't believe she was about to have this conversation.

"You realize that I'm about to describe my imaginary friend, right?"

Director Yang stared at her like a sphinx.

Miranda sighed and took a page from the good Director. After a moment, she was back to her seated position. She leaned back in her chair, doing her best to pretend that she wasn't a hair's breadth from completely losing her mind.

"Kisandra was, for lack of a better word, passionate and driven. She was as much my Super-ego as she was my Id. There was silly little Miranda, as you so unceremoniously put it, and then you had Kisandra. She was calculating, precise and with an analytical side that would have made a computer cry. She taught me the value of discipline, focus and self-confidence. She was everything I wanted to be and more, but as I grew up, I started to notice that Kisandra had a side to her that was unwholesome.

"I remember a time when she chastised me for helping a younger school mate who was being bullied. She told me 'weakness must be weeded out.' I don't think I've every disagreed with her before that day. It wasn't too long after that she started to fade from my memory and I eventually was unable to contact her."

Director Yang had transformed. She was now an unblinking, cold statue crafted of marble, watching Miranda as if she was some rare atomic reaction.

During that small pause when Miranda finished her discourse, and after the socially acceptable pause to allow the other party to speak, the tension between them became palpable.

With a sudden motion, Lian shot up out of her chair and slammed her fist on the table.

At the sudden sound, Miranda's boot camp training kicked in and she pushed the couch back, flipping it in an attempt to enact the "dirt and cover" maneuver. She heard the sound of plastic smashing against the desk as Director Yang nearly drove her finger through the communications button on her desk.

"I need you to find Zechariah Ferdinand Ruiz Fairchild and get this sorry ass to this office immediately!"

Miranda had experienced shell shock once before when a small fighter craft smashed into the orbital station where she was assigned, but never from a human being. She found herself peeking over the couch as she watched Director Yang panting in absolute fury.

Zechariah arrived moments later, undoubtedly briefed that he had been summoned by the use of his full legal name, as he glanced over to Miranda, unfazed.

"Oh well hello, Miranda!" he said with his usual cheerfulness.

The look on Miranda's face as she turned to face him, the couch it is turned over position and the absolute fury on Director Yang's face, made his smile only slightly less cheerful.

"Zechariah Fairchild," shouted the Director, "you have some explaining to do and I want a straight answer from you, now!"

Zechariah took it all in as if this wasn't his first time explaining himself to an irate Director.

"Of course Lian, ask away."

"Just how the hell did you prevent your true self from manifesting?"

Zechariah's cheerful exterior fell away and the face of someone far more terrifyingly familiar appeared. It was the face a man who had seen far too much. Far too much war, far too much suffering. There, he cast a reflection on Miranda's own past.

The training, the blood, the anguish.

She missed the weight of a pistol in her hand; the textured feel that was the hilt of her combat knife. Watching him made it clear to her what she had lost. Even so, she squeezed her hand once more, suppressing her shaking hand, her poker tell.

Zechariah offered Lian a disarming smile that contained none of its normal mirth.

"How? I simply destroyed him, Lian. Utter and complete destruction. There was nothing left of that would-be impostor."

Lian watched him with utter shock that quickly morphed into visible despair.

"How could you do such a thing?!"

Zechariah shrugged.

"Survival, Lian. Plain and simple survival. Zephaniah was meant for a higher purpose. He was meant for greater things, but he was as cruel as he was arrogant. I deemed him unworthy of the power that we shared. So I decided I wasn't going to allow him to take over and wreak havoc. Much like Jacob and Esau, I stole his birthright."

Lian was speechless.

"Let me make this clear: Zephaniah is gone. Now, can I verify unequivocally that he's utterly gone? No. He could well be hiding somewhere in there, but as far as I'm concerned he's no longer an issue. As for the next possible question, why did I allow Miranda to continue, but not destroy Kisandra? That's a more complicated issue and I would much rather talk to Miranda about it first and certainly not at this time."

Lian watched him for a moment longer and crossed her arms over her chest. In that motion a lock of her hair fell loose and rested at an awkward angle upon her cheek.

Zechariah's tone and demeanor softened as he walked over to her side and coaxed that stray strand of hair back behind her ear.

"Don't be upset with me, Lian."

She snorted at him, and he chuckled in response. He turned to Miranda.

"I shall call upon you soon, Miranda. Forgive the interruption."

After a dry acknowledgment he left the room as quietly as he had entered. Miranda, with much effort, flipped the couch back to its righted state, and sat back down on it to take in all that had just been revealed.

She had seen a different side of Zechariah today.

It wasn't difficult to spot that change in personality, the hardness, the deadpan look. Miranda had seen much of that during her time in the military. A flinty set of one's features when the memory of friends and comrades killed in battle resurfaced.

Yet through it all, he had managed to maintain his warm spirit. He hadn't allowed the obvious angst to overcome who he was at his core.

Lian exhaled as she seated herself and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes.

"He hails from a distinguished family," she began, "royalty to be exact. One of the few families in the Old Republic that could trace their heritage back to the end of the seventh century A.D. Mitochondrial DNA confirmed that the Fairchild family was a direct descendant to Gisela the younger, daughter of the fabled Charlemagne."

There was brief moment, a softening of her expression, as she seemed to recall a not so darkened past.

"Technology is such a wonderful tool and it never ceases to amaze me how intricate and unique our human biology truly is. Even more curious was that the Fairchild lineage for generations hailed some of the rarer expectations of productive aristocracy, which spoke for Gisela the younger's management and training of those that would succeed her. Perhaps this offers a few clues on the question of nurture verse nature, but I digress.

"The Old Republic's initiative was to find families of royal bloodlines and bring them back into the fold of governance. They had hoped to invoke something of that royal nature. They clearly had a romanticized vision of the ancients of old coming back to reclaim their rightful seats of power. And so a respectable family of means was, in a matter of days, elevated to a former glory not experienced by anyone in several hundred generations."

Miranda felt strangely honored to hear such an intimate account of Zechariah's heritage.

Lian continued her account.

"Born into privilege, he is one of the rare breed of aristocrats who learned the value of hard work, honest labor and interactions with those of a less privileged upbringing. Through the example of his father and mother, he was able to retain a balanced sense of self."

Her eyes cast a more solemn expression.

"He was eight when his entire family was massacred." She paused to let that heavy truth settle. "By chance or providence he had been visiting the house of a distant cousin when the assault came. Just as eager as the Old Republic was at one point of finding those of royal bloodlines, the same government under a different guidance were just as eager to destroy them.

"Of the fifty-five families that were raised to prominence when the Old Republic was still young enough to romanticize, only ten survived. Of those ten, only two families were able to escape unscathed: the Tattersalls and the Livingstones. Everyone else who survived fled the Old Republic and the remaining members of those eight families joined under one banner, the Sigil Corporation. For twenty years after they had been the driving force behind the modernization of what was then just a collection of backwater planet colonies."

"He was eleven when he joined a ghost op team created by the Tattersall Corporation, with the covert support of the Livingstone and Sigil Corporations. Those three entities were able to pool their massive wealth to use against the Old Republic directly. Zechariah was trained by the best money could buy as were the rest of the orphaned children. One could argue it was unconscionable, but considering the circumstances…"

Lian left that for Miranda to decide.

"He didn't have much of a childhood after that. Yet, even with all the heartache he suffered he was always the kind man you see today. Cheerful, happy, full of life. One could have considered it miraculous that he didn't lose himself to grief and I would not have blamed him if he had. But somehow, his hope endured. I was hired by the Tattersall corporation when six children started to show signs of being paradoxically Gifted. Their ages ranged between thirteen and fifteen. Despite being the youngest of the bunch, the other children considered Zechariah their leader. He was the only one that wasn't completely maladjusted."

Lian took a deep breath and exhaled sadly.

"My arrival couldn't have come at a better time for Zechariah. Not a year later two of his comrades fell into a state of Thendenic dementia."

Miranda's eyes grew wide, but only in somber realization.

Thendenic dementia or more accurately, Caffer's Thendenic Dementia, was a mental disease that only affected those with a history of ungoverned use of their Gifted and paradoxically Gifted abilities. Without proper conditioning, all Gifted would fall into some level of Thendenic dementia.

"As he lost more and more of his friends to Thendenic dementia, I would find him sobbing in his room. That he could still cry gave me hope. It was during those moments of heightened stress that he manifested the first signs of his paradoxical Gift and self.

"Zephaniah manifested himself then, and from that point on it took six years of hard training, work and education to get them both to harness that extraordinary power of his into a semi-stable state, even as we collectively worried about the day his paradoxical Gift would eventually come into full fruition. Then you turned twelve and in that moment we witnessed the most serene example of a dual manifestation, by which I mean the full fruition of his paradoxical Gift. On that day he truly became whole and you were the one that fueled him. It would also seem that he took it upon himself to destroy Zephaniah.

"His heightened development of the connection today is directly attributed to the strict nature of his physical absence in your life, Miranda. I dare say that over that time he's started to love you as none could ever love, unless of course, you're one of the few Gifted with this perplexing paradox. In hindsight, it makes sense why he was able to destroy Zephaniah. He has always had a firm grip of his own self-identity."

Miranda was beginning to understand the pain Zechariah felt at her rejection, but she needed clarification.

"Do you mean he's been watching over me? Since I was twelve?"

Something in Miranda's tone softened Lian's response.

"In the Level 1 pairing of the paradoxically Gifted one person is dominant and the other, recessive. You're the dominant of the pair. You awakened his powers, and because of that, he's been able to sense your presence regardless of distance. Perhaps watching isn't an accurate way to describe it, but it's the only word that can even remotely explain the first level of the vinculum. He's always been distinctly aware of you. He always made sure you never meet any major crisis without some sort of support. That gut feeling you've had for all these years? That was him."

Lian paused, clearly unsure whether or not to continue.

"He ordered us to never have any interaction with you. He wanted your childhood to be normal, for you to make your own decisions. We weren't allowed to do anything to compromise your life. Only twice did we ever see you; once when we had your family under surveillance after Zechariah manifested his powers and then again, during the incident at the orbiter."

Miranda offered a nervous girlish giggle, followed by a warm smile to express her relief.

"So you mean to tell me that the only visual you had of me was being a silly little girl in pig-tails, then suddenly I was an adult?"

Lian leaned back and considered this for a long moment, perhaps too long as Miranda only intended this to be a passing jest and to cover the fact that she was uncomfortable with seeing Zechariah as some kind of supernatural stalker.

To Miranda's surprise, she responded.

"Yes, in fact… it's hard to see you in any other light. You were never meant to be. Kisandra was supposed to take over."

Lian exhaled as she brought her hand up to the bridge of her nose and started to rub it gingerly, then more aggressively as she began to speak again.

"Everything about Zechariah is a damnable mystery. Why did Kisandra vanish from your consciousness after your twelfth year? Was it his doing? Does he even accept her as your replacement? It almost seemed so after what happened in that orbiter when he smiled and thanked Kisandra for such a horrific gift."

She moved her hand and her dark eyes narrowed in on Miranda.

"This exactly why the Paradoxical Training Corps was shut down. The so called 'irrational' behavior is in fact the other personality asserting dominance over its supposed paradoxical Gift."

Miranda didn't understand every little detail of the Director's revelations, but regardless of all the impossible contradictions, it all made a twisted sort of sense. The Paradoxical Training Corps wasn't something that could be run in a standard military setting. It required a "special" set of rules and operating procedures that were above and beyond what the military was charged to handle.

"Is that why Branch Cell was created?" Miranda inquired softly.

There was a slight narrowing of Lian's eyes.

"Yes and no. Branch Cell was created under different circumstances, and I can't elaborate because you lack proper clearance. What I can tell you is that it became an outlet for operatives with Gifted ability to use their powers, but since the disbanding of the PTC, Branch Cell returned to its original operational manifest. We've become more vertically integrated since then.

"Though this is all unofficial, of course. Officially we still have the backing of the Colonial Security and Intelligence Bureau and the resources of both domestic and foreign covert and security apparatus. The problem is that Broken Laurel has the same privileges."

Lian leaned in as her voice took on a more serious tone.

"Which brings me to this critical point: Broken Laurel has you in their cross hairs. I don't know what you did to bring so much attention to yourself or why that PSSX is so damnably important to Broken Laurel, but until Zecc decides to move we can only make sure you're somewhat prepared to meet these new challenges as his partner."

Lian stood up. "Go get some rest, Miranda and before I forget…" She walked over to a wall safe and punched in her key code, using her thumb for verification. The safe came open and she removed a small PSSX from its interior. She walked over and handed it to Miranda.

"You were charged with personally delivering this to Zechariah. I wouldn't want to deprive you of that responsibility."

Miranda reached up and took it in hand. She had been secretly worrying about the location of the PSSX. She looked up at Lian and nodded her appreciation.

Lian smiled lightly. "Process what you can and I'll brief Zechariah. He'll be in contact with you in six days."