And now for a super long intro Author's Note! Yay!
And yes, I know most of you will skip all of this. How? Because I usually skip long ANs myself. But just know, there's some important info in here. Somewhere.
Okay, alright. It has been an obscenely long amount of time since I've put anything up here on good ol' FF. My writing style has changed significantly. In case you recognize my name, I have posted two renditions of similar plotlines before about Drake having a sister in the FAYZ. However, I've deleted both of those for three reasons: one, I had no real plot; two, they sucked; three, I hate OCs now. They just strike me as Mary-Sues, even when well done, which mine weren't. But, all that's behind me. Please don't hold my immature need for Drake to have a sister (idk why I really liked that plotline...) against me.
Another note: this is set after the FAYZ. However, I haven't read Light yet, so there will be no spoilers from that.
Anyways...
I'm not going into detail about how the FAYZ ended exactly because, well, I don't know and I'm not that creative. Sue me (please don't!).
And disclaimer! I don't own Gone, it's plot, characters, or anything else related to it. I own no recognizable brand names or familiar looking quotes or anything at all really. I'm a college student, remember? I own an education! (Well, in the process of owning one...)
Anywho, warnings: This fic is rated T for strong language, blood, violence, and mild romance. This is also a warning for potential OOC. The author of this fic assumes reasonable ability to play with the characters personalities on the basis that it's set in the future and the characters have grown-up/matured (somewhat).
TRIGGER WARNING! There is some rape mention in the first few chapters. However, there is absolutely no rape in this fic, or even any rapey elements. All romantic actions are fully consensual.
I welcome criticism; how else will I get better? Feel free to mention any typos in reviews or PMs. Also let me know about anything else that doesn't make sense. Though I'm going to tell you right now not to expect realistic psychiatric asylum situations. I do not know how asylums work, therefore I take writer's liberty to make them however I want.
And now, finally, the first new FF of the new Only if you wish it...begins!
Chapter One
The California Psychiatric Facility. That was where he'd been sentenced. Found guilty of murder in one account—Brittney—assisted murder in two accounts–-Bette and Mike Famer—and attempted murder in over a dozen accounts. He was to remain under high security indefinitely or until the doctors pronounced him sane and safe to reintroduce to society, which basically also meant indefinitely.
"…unbelievable that he's managed to…"
"…does nothing but glares at everything with this hate in his eyes. It's like he wants to kill everything…"
"…not responsive to any treatments, therapy, or counseling. I just don't know what to do…"
"…he's like the devil himself. Already put two orderlies in the hospital…"
Drake heard what they said, knew how they talked about him, but didn't really care. His baleful eyes fell to his right arm—right stump—and he flinched, jerking his head up and forcing himself to stay awake. His whip hand. They'd cut off his whip hand. He hated them. He hated them worse than he hated Diana or Caine or Sam…well, maybe not more than them, but more than those others he hated. His mother, his father, Dekka, Brianna, Jack. Hated these doctors more than them.
"M-mr. Merwin?" A voice stuttered. He ignored it, inwardly seething at the company. He didn't want people tending to him. Forcing him to interact. He hated people. "Time t-to go to the activity room." The nurse tried to be cheery, she really did, but when those freezing grey eyes turned to her, scorching her with the massive amount of hate just oozing from his orbs, she flinched as if he'd struck her. Only seventeen and yet a worse nightmare than she'd ever encountered. Than nearly anyone had ever encountered.
Drake stood from his bolted down bed, the chains connecting his feet clanging together as he ground his teeth together. He hated that sound. The chains were court mandated. He would have been in a Juvenile Delinquent Center—the prosecutor had been trying to get him put in the California prison—but his lawyer—some rich guy that his mother had paid for—had, somehow, got the jury to give into his plea of insanity—which his fancy lawyer had had to beg him to agree to. Thus he was shipped off to this hellhole. He would almost rather be in prison.
Drake followed the nurse down the hall, always noticing the guards walking behind him. He was considered a high risk, especially after lashing out and knocking two orderlies out within his first week. All that had gotten him with a higher dosage of sedative and near-constant guards. At this point, his sedative was so high he could barely manage to stay conscious after being given a shot.
Drake sat in the window, glaring at the parking lot below and ignoring the other 'patients' around him. Most of them, he knew, were actually insane and not criminals. They had eating disorders or drug additions or something. He knew this because there wasn't many in chains like him. He supposed he'd be in handcuffs if he'd had two hands.
Suddenly the door opened and some twenty kids around his age wandered in, looking nervous and out of place, some offering smiles while others looked bored out of their minds. An elder man came through them, walking over to a nurse with a slight smile, telling her something. She nodded, before turning around to speak to the patients.
"May I have your attention everyone?" she asked loudly. People mostly got quiet, with the exception of one patient who decide to scream until another nurse came to calm him down. "Mr. Leon's psychology class is here to speak with you. They are doing this for volunteer hours as well as a grade so please be respectful and kind," she continued undisturbed. By that she meant, 'Mess up and you'll be getting solitary and pills.' Drake growled under his breath, glaring at the teens now mixing in with the patients, some still wavering near the door. He stood, moving to get the attention of one wayward nurse.
"I want to go back to my room," Drake ordered, glaring at the nurse in front of him. She flinched at his tone but stood firm.
"Everyone's supposed to stay here with the students, Mr. Merwin," she stated. "It might be helpful for you to interact with those your own age."
"The only way I'd 'interact' with them would be if I could break their bones until they were begging me to kill them," Drake muttered lowly in her ear. She jerked back, pale-faced, trying to keep from trembling.
"I-I…" she stuttered, not knowing how to respond. Drake was glaring at her with those icy hate-filled eyes and she was finding it hard to think. All that was running through her mind was fear and the urge to run. Run far away from this predator standing right in front of her.
"You know you can't go back to your room," the doctor warned, coming to the nurse's aid. She breathed a sigh of relief, scuttling behind him as Drake's glare went to him.
"What happens if I end up hurting one of these precious visitors you have?" Drake threatened lowly.
"You won't," the doctor ordered. "Or you'll be put in solitary and I'll up your dosage of sedative. Again."
Drake huffed, a deep grumbling in his chest as he felt his hand twitch. He hated the doctor. He wanted to strangle him slowly, watch the fear in his eyes, watch his life fade. Instead, though, Drake took his threat seriously, stomping back to his window-seat, glaring at the window, emanating enough hostility to keep any sane person away. Of course, he was in an insane asylum…
"Holy shit," a voice muttered, awed, behind him. He turned to glare at them, easily spotting the wide-eyed girl before him.
Her dark hair and eyes were of the same shade, her locks long and sleek, shining in the light. She was probably around his age or appeared to be. Her face wasn't unattractive and her body was of perfect proportions, two facts that meant little to Drake. Oddly enough, however, he was having pangs of familiarity running through him.
"Drake," the girl whispered.
"Who're you?" he growled out unfriendly, eyes unforgiving as his mind worked to place her face with one from his memory.
"You honestly don't remember me?" she asked. Her face was no longer surprised, only mocking, teasing. Who was she to mock him? No one had the guts to…
Drake tensed, eyes widening of their own accord as he finally put everything together. "No," he refuted. She smirked, waving her fingers at him.
"Hi ya, Drake," she teased, taking a seat across from him. Drake's eyes followed her every move with disbelief and hatred.
"Diana," he spat her name like poison from his mouth. "How the hell…" he trailed off, curiosity having made him start the question but hatred making him stop.
"I'm taking a psychology class in the high school about three blocks from here," she explained anyways, flicking her hair. "We're going to be coming here every Friday."
"You're kidding," he grumbled.
"Not in the least," she refuted before grinning. "Guess it'll be just like old times. Except you'll be doped up on meds and I'll get to leave in a few hours."
"Where's Caine?" Drake decided to cut to the chase, ignoring her comment.
"Oh, he was sent to another school," Diana waved off. "His 'parents' drug a very unhappy Caine to New York. He calls and writes occasionally, but I don't see too much of him."
"After all that love you shared," he sneered, a sentiment she returned with just as much disdain.
"Actually, he still claims that. I have my doubts, of course. The FAYZ damaged us all so much, we'll never be fit for someone normal. Yet, we could never really be with someone who'd been through it either. Just knowing what he…I…we did…" she trailed off, holding her fingers to her lips, looking down. "It's been a while since I've talked about it," she murmured.
"You should see my therapist," Drake drawled. "I'm sure he'd have a field day."
"I've already done my therapy, thank you," Diana stated briskly. "Not doing yours too. Besides, you need it more. You haven't changed a bit."
"Oh, trust me," Drake growled, his eyes sucking in all sparks or flames and emanating such an empty, cold hatred. Diana's felt her breath catch, staring wide-eyed at those frozen-over orbs. "I've changed." His right arm, which he'd been subconsciously keeping from her view, caught Diana's eyes and she looked at it, staring in disbelief.
"They…they took off your arm…whip…thing?" she spoke in shock.
"Not there, is it?" Drake spat. He definitely didn't like talking about that.
"I'm just…surprised," she revealed, working to return to normal, to not let him know he'd shaken her. Her eyes went back to his, unflinching now under his hate-filled gaze. "You have changed," she noted. "For the worse. And I didn't think that was possible," she added, just to put herself on familiar ground: mocking him.
Drake didn't comment, only glaring at her.
"You always hated therapists and psychologists," she continued analyzing him, looking around the room at the other patients casually. "And now you're surrounded by them all the time. This is probably hell for you," she thought aloud.
"And suddenly your life is perfect?" Drake seethed harshly.
"Not perfect, but I'm not eating boiled grass. I have electricity, I have water, and most importantly, I have adults that tell me what to do."
"Like that's something to be happy about," Drake grumbled, glaring at the guards, nurses, and doctors in the room.
"It is if you let it be," she corrected.
"Just shut up, Diana," Drake ordered with a low growl, looking back out his barred window.
"Contemplating offing yourself?" she asked, mildly serious. She was wondering in what other ways he had changed since she'd last seen him. Becoming suicidal wouldn't be too out there of an idea.
"Contemplating throwing you out this window," he corrected. But perhaps considering it was Drake, she shouldn't have expected that much of a change.
"And I'd fall down and break my- Oh wait. There's bars on the window. Guess I wouldn't fall after all." Though, she hadn't changed all that much either.
Drake sent her a baleful look. "You're not funny."
Diana smirked. "Maybe you need a sense of humor. And I'd suggest you get one, considering you'll have a whole semester to deal with my non-humor," she added mockingly.
"I hate you," Drake responded.
"The feeling's mutual," Diana replied, sighing and brushing her hair through her fingers. Her eyes scanned the room, seeing the occasional drooling patient or leering male and subconsciously moved away from them, inching towards Drake. Like he'd protect her. She almost snorted at the idiotic thought.
Her eyes landed on a pack of cards. "Hey, want to play a game?" she suggested.
"Why would I want to do that?" Drake spat, now back to glaring at her. She shrugged.
"Face it, Drake. I'm here for another few hours; you're going to have to deal with me. Plus, I'd rather talk to the psycho I know than one of the drooling, insane perverts I don't. And since I have to do this for a grade…" she got up and went to snatch of the cards, coming back to sit across from Drake on the window seat and shuffling the cards. "I can't just blow it off."
"Or maybe you just want to do your report on someone you already have all the information on," Drake muttered, accepting his cards and somehow maneuvering them where he could hold them all and see them all with his one hand. He was forced to set them down and grab one card to discard though. He wanted to glare at his right stump but didn't really want to lose control of himself at the moment. Not in front of Diana. Never in front of the witch.
"Why make it harder on myself?" Diana asked, drawing and humming a bit before discarding.
Drake didn't answer, and they continued playing for another few hours, silent for the most part with only occasional insults thrown in. It was the most peaceful Drake had acted in years.
"Where's Sam?" Drake thought to ask as Diana shuffled the cards for a seventh game of Rummy. They were evenly tied and this was going to settle it.
She shrugged. "I think he's an electrician somewhere…" she trailed off when she caught Drake's look of incredulity. She smirked. "Not really. He's around. He and the Genius are still together. They were all over the news for a while, but I haven't heard anything on them recently. People are getting over the whole FAYZ thing."
Drake hummed, laying down a set before eyeing his cards for which one he wanted to get rid of. "And the others?" he questioned lazily, only slightly interested.
Diana sighed, putting down her cards and counting on her fingers. "Brianna's going to enlist in the military soon as she's legal, I'm pretty sure. Dekka kind of fell of the radar, though I'm willing to bet she stays close to Sam. Jack's invented some major computer software antivirus thing or whatever. I don't speak nerd. I don't even think he goes to school anymore. Quinn and his family moved to Alaska. Orc-"
"Alaska?" Drake interrupted.
Diana smiled, flicking her hair. "Yeah, doesn't seem like something someone would do, does it?" Drake just shook his head. "Where was I? Oh, Orc. I think he's in some government facility; no one's heard from him since the day it all went down. Albert graduated earlier this year and was all over the news for some stock market genius scheme of his. Apparently he's one of the youngest businessmen in the country now. Guess the FAYZ was nice to someone, huh?"
Drake didn't comment, only laid out his cards to reveal he was out and had higher points than her. Diana scowled, but took up the cards away.
"Alright class; it's time to go," Mr. Leon was calling. Diana glanced in his direction and then back at Drake.
"Same time, same game?" she asked, standing and dropping the cards on another table. Drake shrugged.
"Not like I'm not going to be here," Drake pointed out bitterly, glaring at the window.
"You know, Drake, if you'd even just pretend to go through with the therapy they might let you out. And I mean before you're legally a senior citizen," she added, winking at him as he glared.
"I'm not talking about my feelings and shit," he grumbled.
"Fine; rot in here. Not like I want you loose on the streets anyways," she threw over her shoulder, leaving with her class. Drake glared at her the whole time she left, hating that what she'd said made sense. He didn't have to really go through with it. A long as he could convincingly pretend, he could get out of here. He could be free.
And then he'd go and kill every one of them that was making a mockery of him. Caine, Sam, Astrid, Brianna, Dekka, Orc—if he was even alive—Jack…
…and Diana. Especially Diana.