Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: So this is one of my old stories. As in really old. And old unfinished story. I know, not promising so far, but I swear the following news makes it better.
So one of my oldest stories but also one of my favourites. It has been languishing in developement hell for a very long time. Mostly cause I realised that Max's voice was totally off by chapter six, which is when it starts to get interesting.
So recently, in an attempt to get my muse working again so that I could write something other than prompt responses, enjoyable as that is, I decided to reread Hope in hopes (no pun intended) to get back into the swing of the story. And I realised something pretty interesting, namely that if I was writing that story from scratch it would be longer. Much longer. The revised version of chapter one is now almost twice as long as the original and I am not done yet.
So, as I was saying I am rewriting this. It is slightly slow going, as I still prefer to write everything by hand, before committing it to the computer. Old-fashioned of me I know. Chapter a week sounds about right. Especially since I have some spare time coming up.
I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did and do writing it. And if you are so kind as to send me a shout-out, well I will be really grateful. And very pleased. Reviews have been known to make me dance about the place like a chipmunk on ecstacy. Or so I have been told.
Incidentally the titles all (and yes I mean all) come from lines in Emily Dickinson poems. If you are interested in knowing which ones, cause I flatter myself to think that each poem (and I don't repeat myself neither) is relevant to the chapter it heads, then tap me and I will let you know. You know, on the off chance, that you can't find them yourself. :)

Hope

Prologue: The Thing with feathers

The steel door to the cell swung open and a body was thrown in, landing on the ground with a bone-deep groan of pain.

Two eyes watched from the corner, glinting in the shadows, their owner unsure if this was another ruse to break her, another scheme thought up by the bitch who ruled this living nightmare.

Groaning, trembling arms tried to push up the body, muscles clenching in remembered pain. He'd be damned before he let the bitch feel the satisfaction of breaking him. Hazel eyes burned with the need to cry, but soldiers never cried.

The broken woman watched the man try to control the body betraying his every thought. Long supressed feelings of need rose to the surface of her scarred heart. The need to help, to comfort and be comforted. Involuntarily a hand reached out only to freeze when the movement caused flashing hazel eyes to swing up and meet wary brown ones.

"Who are you?"

Every morning the woman and the man were separated and taken away. Away to be tortured, driven to the edge of reason, where sanity slips away, sliding through weak and broken fingers.

Every evening the woman and the man were thrown back into the cell, left alone, but together.

Every night the woman and the man helped each other past the pain, sharing whispered confessions about nothing in particular, until the comforting turned to something else, the need to touch and feel something besides the harsh torture inflicted on them in the daylight hours. Soft moans filled the velvet darkness of the cell, cries quickly silenced, two lost souls finding something new, something pure to help them through the sunlight.

But somebody was watching, somebody was always watching.

"Madam. Operation successful. The subject is pregnant."

The woman allowed herself a brief smile of triumph. She always got what she wanted. "Find a surrogate. If we loose this child." She paused and pinned the subordinate to the wall with the force of her will alone. "Well, you don't want to know what will happen in that case."

Her gaze turned back to the screens. Her voice soft as she spoke the final verdict. "Oh, and make them forget."

"Yes, Director Renfro, Ma'am.

The woman and the man did forget. Forgot themselves and each other in a haze of red light until all that was left was what she allowed them to keep.

Forgot everything except the vague feeling that not all was as it should be. That something vital had been torn from their lives.

The steel door to the cell swung open and a young man waltzed in, hazel eyes flashing with humour.

Wary brown eyes watched him from the corner of the room.

"Hi, I'm your breeding partner."

Brown eyes flashed and hazel eyes found themselves slammed into the other side of the cell by one well-placed kick.

"In your dreams." Brown eyes stated firmly.