The Spectrum Force, Heather Ray [best free ebook reader for android .txt] 📗

Phoenix. The monster that nearly killed Chris Greyson, just because he was there. The demon that unleashed the Nightfall.

The fighter's eyes stung just at the thought of the devastation Acheron caused. So many people suffered around the entire world. So many died, from the freezing temperature and dangerous winds, or the critical power losses that compromised hospitals, to the invading armies that marched through the snowbanked streets of Langstrum Alps.

Nothing like that would ever happen again, she vowed, as a cry of rage escaped her raw throat. She pounded mercilessly, her hands plowing into Acheron ceaselessly. If it weren't for the padded gloves she wore, no doubt the ferocity of the exercise would have drawn blood from her mistreated knuckles. She didn't even acknowledge the stares of the people around her, watching in amazement at her animalistic display.

No doubt they felt sorry for the punching bag that antagonized Rachel Castaneda so.

Suddenly, a feeling of warmth entered Rachel's mind and heart. The ferocity in her body began to fade, and the projected image of the Denebian monarch gave way to the reality of the leather punching bag that absorbed all her fury. She released a ragged breath of exhaustion, tossing her hands onto her hips as she turned around. Her expression didn't change when she saw Chris standing behind her, his hands held in his pockets casually and his dark eyes fixed upon her.

"How long have you been there?" Rachel rasped, pulling off her kickboxing gloves. She tossed them onto the floor and pulled the tie from her hair, allowing her lengthening curls to frame her sweat-beaded face.

"About five minutes," he answered, "I didn't want to interrupt you. It looked like a very... therapeutic exercise."

His answer was followed by a long silence, as Rachel picked up her gloves and sat down on a nearby bench. She glanced around the gym, noting the handful of people using the various weight machines and other pieces of equipment.

"So," Chris said, taking a seat beside Rachel and watching her take a long sip of water, "how long did you know I was here?"

"I picked up on it when you... broadcast your thoughts," she admitted, trying her best to keep her voice even, "Really, Chris, you need to learn how to keep your mind to yourself."

"Maybe I didn't want to," he answered gently, "Maybe I wanted you to know that I was really worried about you."

Rachel glanced at him through the corner of her eye, her lips curling into a slight frown as she took another sip of water. Chris cringed slightly when he saw her expression, that bordered on sheer anger. He caught himself before he tried to touch her mind, to see what she was really thinking. Could she really be angry

at him for being concerned for her? Or, was she afraid of something?

"So," he said, breaking the silence that quickly settled in, "I... uh... I've been thinking about... you know... a name for myself. You know, something for you guys to call me when we're in battle, in case someone's watching."

Chris glanced at Rachel through his chestnut bangs, but she kept her eyes away from him. Still, he could discern she was listening.

"Um... I was thinking of Horizon," he revealed, "I'm the first step in a new stage of human evolution. I'm the first mutant, as Phoenix called it, on our planet. I'm the first human with natural superpowers. So, I'm a glimpse of the future. I'm what's on the horizon for all mankind."

Chris gazed at Rachel for a while, hesitantly touching her shoulder. "So, what do you think?"

"Eloquent," she answered crisply, pulling away from his touch and rising to her feet, "but I really don't feel like talking about this now."

Chris watched in astonishment as Rachel picked up her gloves, and started to walk away from him. His surprise quickly transforming into frustration, Chris leapt from his seat, and followed her across the gym.

"Then what do you feel like talking about?" he pressed, falling into step beside her.

"Nothing," she answered, "I don't feel like talking about anything

at the moment. So please, just... leave me alone. Please?"

She paused for a moment, and gazed into his eyes. Her teary eyes were practically begging him to leave her alone, and a single drop of moisture escaped her eye, sliding down her cheek.

A frown forming on her face, Rachel quickly brushed away the tear, and briskly walked away from Chris. "I'll talk to you later," she said, hurrying into the girl's locker room. Chris watched in amazement as he saw the door swing closed behind her.

"Oh, no you don't," he whispered, marching through the door, "You're not pushing me away now, Rachel!

Rachel stared at him with naked bewilderment, her hand dropping from the padlock on a narrow wall locker. "Chris, this is the women's

locker room! Can't you take a hint?!"

"Well, I'm not going to give you a hint," he said firmly, folding his arms, "I'm going to be blunt: I'm not letting you do this."

"What?" she challenged, turning her back to him and unlocking the latch on her locker.

"Cut yourself off. Brood. Drown in self-pity and blame. Let your ridiculous display of strength eat you up from the inside."

Rachel felt her entire body tremble with rage at his words. "I'm the leader of the Spectrum Force," she said in a forcedly even tone, "If I'm not strong, then who will be? I can't just fall apart, you know. I've got to keep my team together."

"You don't do that by alienating yourself from your teammates," Chris pointed out, "They're your friends, Rachel. And they know you're human. They're not expecting you to be a rock. You're not an emotionless robot soldier. You just lost your best friend. It's okay to grieve."

"What do you think I'm doing?!" she shouted, collapsing to the bench, "I'm letting out my grief."

"No, you're letting out your anger

. That's not the same. You're angry at the Denebians, but mostly you're angry at yourself. You're angry at yourself, for not being ready for this attack. You're angry for not coming up with the plan Tamara utilized. You're angry for not being the one to make the ultimate sacrifice. You're trying to prepare yourself for next time. You don't like feeling inadequate. You want vengeance."

Rachel looked up, throwing a disdainful scowl at Chris. He ignored her bitter expression and continued, for her own good.

"You're letting out your anger, but you're not dealing with your grief. You're keeping it bottled inside you. You've got to face it, and move on."

Rachel's lips trembled, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "Move on? Dammit, Chris, my best friend is dead

! And it's my fault! It should have been me

! The captain is the one who always goes down with the ship. The sergeant protects his officers. The leader makes the sacrifices!" Rachel paused for a moment, sniffling quietly. "It should have been me."

"You're making it sound like Tammy was unworthy of sacrificing herself," Chris observed. He carefully kept his distance, not intruding on Rachel's personal space as she wiped the droplets that fell down her face.

"No!" she responded quickly, staring up at him in horror, "No! That's not it at all! I... I..."

"You miss your friend, and you wish that you could have saved her from her fate," Chris finished, "But did it ever occur to you that, maybe... that's exactly what she was doing? Protecting her friends? After all, she didn't even say goodbye. She didn't want to take the chance that someone else would die carrying out her plan. She didn't just die to save her planet. She died to save her friends

."

Rachel swallowed the lump that had grown in her throat, and pulled her legs to her body. She then wrapped her arms around her legs, her entire body quivering as she cried into her knees. She remained that way for several minutes, not even pausing for breath as the tears were shed. With every tear... a little bit more of the well of grief crumbled.

Chris watched Rachel, wrapped around herself, sobbing uncontrollably. So fragile... so delicate. So much unlike the bold, brash woman he had become familiar with.

He felt privileged to witness this side of her personality as well. The gentler side. The fragile side. The side she seemed ashamed of. The side she hid from the vast majority of the world.

The side he always knew was in there... somewhere.

After a few minutes, Rachel lifted her head slightly, and glanced at Chris. Considering how quiet he had been, she was slightly surprised to see he was still there. He didn't move an inch. He just waited patiently for her to recover.

"God, this is embarrassing," she whispered, rubbing her eyes with her fist.

"What makes you say that?" he pressed, still keeping his distance, "I'm glad

to see you break down and cry. I'm glad to see you release the pain that's been there all along. Now don't you feel better?"

Rachel sighed in defeat. She couldn't deny it... she did feel better.

"And just how

do you know me so well?" she inquired, dropping her hands to her lap. She gazed at him fervently, truly curious as to the source of his insight. Was it simply his psionic powers that clued him in? Did he read her mind to discern what was plaguing her? Was it simply a breach of privacy, or was it something more?

For the first time since he entered the locker room, Chris was caught off guard. He gazed at Rachel, locking eyes with her seekingly. Finally, he took a deep breath, and took a step closer to her.

"You really want to know?" he asked.

She nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.

Chris took another deep breath, and his eyes fell to the floor. "Well, um... it's actually something I've been wanting to talk to you about for awhile now. But, it's never really the right time. We only met a couple weeks ago, and lately our lives have been quite... complicated. Still, uh..." He swallowed once again, and began chewing on his lower lip as he racked his brain for the right words, "We've only just met, but I think we've been through a lot together. I've been thinking about this for a while and... I think we should talk about... our relationship..."

"No," Rachel interrupted, her voice weak but certain.

Chris' eyes shuttered open, and he stared at Rachel in astonishment. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but her face was grim and firm. "Excuse me?" he asked, more overcome by shock than anything else.

"I can't believe you brought this up now

," she muttered, turning away from his gaze, "We don't have

a relationship that requires qualifying."

"What?!" Chris uttered in astonishment, his voice a bit harsher than he had intended, "Rachel, what are you saying

?"

"We're practically strangers," Rachel said quietly, "We've only known each other for a handful of days. You don't even know me."

"I know you well enough," Chris pressed, watching amazedly as Rachel packed her belongings, "I've seen you in your brightest, and your darkest hours. I know your bravery, your dedication, your intelligence, your sarcasm, your strength. I know your tenderness and compassion. God, Rachel, I can't believe you think we're strangers

..."

"It's too soon," Rachel stated, running one hand through her hair nervously, "It's too soon..."

She then closed her locker, and stepped past Chris. Without