Aaron tapped his pencil thoughtfully on the small table which occupied his cell. At the current moment, he was contemplating what it was exactly that Lana had been searching for. She wasn't stupid enough to ask him a direct question; of course he was going to withhold the information she wanted. But that made it difficult to say anything, not knowing what exactly she needed.
"What do you know about the Dessells" was such a broad topic!
"Catcher."
Aaron turned his head to the door, where the Lieutenant stood expectantly. Aaron glanced down at the unfinished letter on his desk and grunted irritably before scribbling his signature down at the bottom. He folded it carefully before handing it to Lieutenant Dower.
"To Miss Ramirez?" Dower inquired.
Yes, because my address book is teeming with other people, Aaron thought in annoyance. "Yes, sir."
"Hasn't she become tired of your hackneyed attempts to capture her heart?"
Aaron waved this comment off with only minimal vexation. "You don't become tired of hearing endless declarations from someone who already has your heart, however."
"I think you're just under the category of obsessive."
"I like to think I'm just in love." And bored.
Lt. Dower snorted before leaving the room.
Turning out the door and into the hallway, allowing the guards to shut the door behind him, Dower was only too familiar with the walk to the post-guards, who were in charge of delivering the mail out. (Under normal circumstances, they would simply take them to the post office itself; however, Aaron was surely no normal prisoner, and it served best to bring his letters directly to Lana herself, rather than permitting them to spend too long in the hands of outsiders.)
Today, however, Dower did not take his walk to the post guards. Instead, he backtracked his feet towards his own office. Once within the secure walls, he shut the door and locked it. Then, he held the letter over his ashtray, and a lighter beneath it. Soon enough, the folded letter caught the flame, the flames licking his fingers lightly. He only dropped it once sure it would burn completely, the smell of burnt paper now pervading the air.
Benny's eyes swept the hallway of the prison, and she felt a glare on her face.
"You know, if you keep making that face it'll get stuck like that," Lana said offhandedly.
"Good. Then I won't have to make the effort with you anymore."
Lana sent her a look before returning her gaze to the front. Her nerves were in coils, though she knew it was stupid. She had been within the prison's walls many times, even once as a resident, yet she supposed it was different this time.
They said to never follow a lion to its den. It was a reasonable enough adage. Made sense to her, at least. The lion's den smelled like fellow sheep slaughtered, previous dinners. It was easy enough to lose your stomach to such a scent.
She didn't think that Aaron's room smelled like sheep's blood or even wool, but being his territory was an idea she liked less and less every moment.
The steel door in front of her made her swallow her fear, and she walked in, the guards shutting the door behind her.
Aaron was sitting at his desk, a pencil in one hand, a piece of paper on the wooden surface in front of him. From this distance and angle, Lana could only assume that the two words at the top were the same ones she was greeted with every morning.
"She got my letter, Lt. Dower?"
Lana swallowed again, eyes focused on his back. "That's why she's here."
There was a brief moment in which she saw his body tense, though it soon fled from his body as he swung around to face her.
"I did not expect you to come," he said. Doubt muddled his mind, and suspicion, though first and foremost he felt shock.
"You have information, Aaron." She used his first name in an attempt to ingratiate herself to him. "And I need it."
"I see that," he said. "Otherwise you would not be here."
"I believe we have already established that."
"I felt it was worth repeating."
"Okay, Parrot," she joked. "Now, what do you know about the Dessells?"
Aaron shook his head stubbornly. "No. That is too broad, and I refuse to answer it. You and I both know there is something specific you want to know about them."
Lana's eyes narrowed, though she quickly shook it off. No matter, as he had seen it. He always saw the little things. It was annoying.
"I can't tell you exactly what," she informed him. Which was true, so far as she was concerned.
"Then I can't tell you exactly what I know," he replied. "Here's the deal, sweetpea. I'm going to find out what you need me for sooner or later. The difference it whether you get the information from me, or from someone else."
Lie. She could always get the information from him.
"Fine. What do you know about the Dessells....and their relationship with the Frosten?"
Chapter Three
Aaron blinked.
"Why in the Devil's name do you need to know that?"
"I already told you the what, Catcher. Now it's your turn."
Aaron shrugged. "Well, they're not good."
"Wow, thank you for that insightful piece of information. I would never have guessed that answer in a million years," Lana gabbed sarcastically.
"Then you aren't quite as intelligent as I've always perceived you to be," Aaron replied. "Listen, I can't telly you everything. Even I can't remember all the information that has crossed my plate before, though I know it's hard for you to see me as imperfect."
Her face remained passive, and Aaron held back a smile.
"I can tell you, however, that something extremely...horrendous, is brewing. Something like to change all of Manta, probably for the absolute worse. Well, to put it mildly. Let's just say that a full out war between the Klingons and Star Fleet would be less of a disaster than this."
"Oh, well, when you put it like that."
Unable to hold back a humoured smirk, Aaron shrugged. "I can tell you that there is more concise information located elsewhere. I may not have the ability to show it during the last three years locked away, but I used to have a filing system that would leave the government envious."
"I'm pretty sure the government is envious of any organised system," Lana pointed out, to which Aaron shrugged with humour once more.
"Well, if they're envious of you, I weep for the country."
Lana rolled her eyes and brought him back to the subject. "So where would I find your almighty filing system? I don't suppose you kept them on a flashdrive?"
"Of course not," he snorted. "Then the government would have access to it, and I aimed to make them envious, not target me for being too aware. Well, not that it matters much anymore." He gestured to the room they sat in. "They're in actual files and filing cabinets. In my house. I don't suppose that there is much left there after my arrest, though you may get lucky."
"Perhaps." That sounded strange. When he had been arrested, Lana recalled reports of their teams investigating Aaron's apartment. They had discovered several enormous file folders, though most of them contained information regarding their own organisation, she and Benny and the prison. It was enough to get him put away, though, so the search had been largely called off. So far as she knew, there was nothing they hadn't touched.
"Hadn't you been living in an apartment?" she inquired, feigning more curiosity than the suspicion she felt.
Aaron blinked. A burst of laughter erupted from his mouth as he realised why she was asking. "They didn't know about my house? Some elite organisation you are!!"
Unappreciative of his laughter, Lana grimaced at him.
"Well? Where is your house, then?"
It took him a moment to settle his laughter, but even after he did he smiled at her. "It's within Peken. It's just a small house. Any one there can tell you which one is mine."
Though her face remained passive, genuine surprise blossomed in her at the town name. Peken was a homely little place which she liked to visit from time to time. Many believed it filled with earthly magic, and it seemed likely to her. But it wasn't a place for homicidal maniacs as Aaron Catcher was.
"And it's not booby-trapped?" she felt the need to ask.
"Well, I did have a very angry cat. Though I assume he's living with a friend after I was arrested. Good thing for you, too. He would have torn your eyes out."
"Well, pets do resemble their owners."
"Oh, I would never tear out your eyes. They're too pretty. If anything, I'd tear your shirt. And then your pants, then--"
"Yes, thank you." He grinned, and Lana sighed. "Well, you've been strangely helpful today. I'll let the guards know to give you an extra helping of mac n' cheese."
"Oh, please not the mac 'n' cheese. That stuff is so terrible the dogs won't touch it. I'd much prefer mashed potatoes."
"How about sweet potatoes. They're red, like your roommate."
"I don't think I could make the beds rock with a sweet potato. I take that back. I could, but I'd prefer not to."
Lana grinned, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.