Title: Breaking the Glass
Summary: Digging in one's past might bring more trouble than expected. Shark-centric.
A/N: This takes place about two weeks after Drowning in Shards.
Suspended in a place the name of which had no meaning, he was half-dreaming – the only resemblance of sleep his current state would allow. He dwelled in his memories, the myriads of colours, both bright and gloomy, scattered about like disarrayed shards of a shattered kaleidoscope which he was trying to put together again. The emotions he experienced back then were still there, held the same intensity and vividness, but somehow he felt strangely detached from them, studying and classifying them with diligence of a scientist trying to make sense of it all and discover some universal truth. That was what he used to be then, wasn't it? A scientist.
He remembered, distantly and somewhat disjointedly, what had started it all, what had brought on the madness and the frantic, insane desire to know, to be in control – probably over things a man should never have control over. This was his downfall, but he felt no sorrow for it. He aimed too high, and couldn't handle it, couldn't live up to it, and he could see it all too clearly now.
And yet, he felt no sorrow.
In spite of his detachedness, a part of him has probably still remained human, or at least was still capable of producing and experiencing human-like emotions. He didn't know whether to classify them as rudimentary algorithms that were partially preserved in his consciousness – emotions were deeply engraved in human mind, after all – or whether to correlate his own consciousness with the one of a human on the basis of these sensations. For the time being he could approximately do both, until he subjected the data he had to proper analysis and drew a more specific conclusion.
Pondering the sensation he was currently exposed to, he wouldn't identify it as the one of sorrow. If he had to give it a name, he would define it as remorse, for he knew that his insatiable thirst for knowledge had cost dearly to many people he knew. And yet transformation into this new form was not something he would have objected to if he had had the opportunity, despite the process being exceptionally unpleasant. Yes, the emotion he felt was remorse.
Somehow, along the way, he had forgotten. Forgotten what had started it and what eventually brought it to such a scale, bordering on disastrous.
Alice…
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Sitting on the couch, Lioness stretched in a graceful feline manner, yawned into her palm and continued to watch the scene in front of her with somewhat dulled, but still present interest and a healthy dose of exasperation.
Someone had thought it would be a good idea to bring a table tennis board into their new, freshly repaired and redecorated home. She had been sleeping and missed who the initiator of the idea was, but the repeated ticking sound and loud excited comments had pulled her out of the blissful realm of sleep, so she dressed and left her room lethargically to find the source of the commotion.
She now wondered, briefly and with only a flicker of interest, if she would have to interfere and stop King and Hawk from frying each other to death with their menacing glares, or otherwise resort to other, more conventional means of violence.
'No,' she decided then, resignedly and tiredly, stealing a glance at their equally half-asleep leader. 'It's Axel's job.'
And really, who could blame her for not being self-sacrificial and altruistic at this hour?
"Do I want to know what sadistic, malevolent demon possessed you to play table tennis at six in the morning?"
There was no fight in Axel's voice and face, and his expression mirrored Lioness's tired resignation all too well. She almost felt bad for him, but not enough to willingly take his place.
The duo actually paused in contemplation, their staring match interrupted. King shrugged, then.
"Dunno. Seemed like a good idea at the time."
Their life was positively messed up.
Ever since King started his irregular, but incessant working routine on his now ever turned-on laptop, his sleeping patterns had been hopelessly disrupted. Basically, King now only slept while the programs were doing their job, which sometimes took hours to complete. Sometimes, he would spend the whole night typing restlessly away on the keyboard. Sometimes, he would approach his laptop just for a few clicks, only to set new hours-long program running. And all the while, he refused to explain what he was doing, stating that he would only speak about it when Shark revealed to them his name.
Needless to say, it swiftly transformed into a kind of a competition between the… three. Three, because Hawk obviously knew the name, and therefore was under constant pressure as well, but was too stubborn and proud to give in and took obvious pleasure from the game. Moreover, Hawk's newfound role in a film – who would want him for an actor, anyway? – has left his previous routine in shards, and he also often found himself up and about at night. Between the duo's nonexistent night rest patterns and the continuous tension, it was no wonder that the life of the rest of the team became restless. Well, it had never been exactly calm, to be honest, but now it was positively insane.
Lioness sighed, stole another glance at Axel who was sitting next to her on the comfy couch, met his exhausted gaze, and in a wordless mutual agreement put her head on his shoulder to catch on her sleep, closing her eyes. By now she didn't care if anyone was watching, and if she did it was for an entirely different reason than most would think. She smiled and shifted into a more comfortable position when the duo abruptly ceased making any sounds, leaving only stunned silence ringing about the corners. Then there was a shuffling of feet as they left, King probably dragging Hawk away forcefully, judging by the muffled 'hey!' and some stumbling. When they left, shutting the door behind them as gently as they were capable of (which was not very gentle), Lioness straightened and winked at Axel's laughing grey-green eyes.
Some silence. Finally.
A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M.A.T.O.M
King shoved Hawk through the door of the kitchen, ignoring his grumbling and complaining at the rude treatment.
"Come on. Let's at least do something useful and cook breakfast. Hopefully it will awaken them."
"I doubt they need it," Hawk mumbled under his breath. Then he started, mentally rewound the sentence back and narrowed his eyes at King suspiciously: "You are not cooking."
"It seems like somebody has already started to."
Belatedly, he realized that there was a smell of coffee in the air. He turned and saw a somewhat slumped form of his best friend sitting at the large rectangular table, his body twisted to face them. In his hands he was nursing a cup of coffee with cream and probably half their stack of sugar in it – oh, the horror! – and he positively looked like he has been caught, his eyes slightly wide, mouth hanging open.
Hawk felt the wave of aggravation, as well as some other emotion he didn't want to identify, wash over him. He quickly quelled that thought, not wishing to go down that lane. Stupid surfer!
"You are not sleeping," King said lowly, his arms suddenly crossed over his chest in the best impression of a strict, displeased father. Shark gave him an unexpectedly amused, if still a bit nervous glance.
"Hate to break it to you, dude, but you are not in the dreamland either. Want some coffee? The kettle is still hot."
Hawk ignored the possible implication which may or may have not been there and unconsciously mimicked King's pose:
"You should be sleeping."
Shark rolled his eyes and flashed them a grin.
"Look who's talking. What do you think awakened me? You dudes are way too loud!"
King tsked and waved his index finger.
"Uh uh uh. Nice try, but no. The hallway from the bedrooms leads only to the stairs, which in its turn descends directly into the living-room. We wouldn't have missed you."
Shark only shrugged, still grinning:
"What do I say? I'm sneaky. Want some coffee?"
King scowled at him suspiciously. Hawk approached the table and settled on a chair, discreetly studying his friend's face and not liking what he saw. Shark's blue eyes were circled by deep shadows, he looked tired and seemed to have lost some weight in the past two weeks. But somehow, Hawk doubted he would wish to talk about this, and frankly, he didn't know what to say even if such a conversation occurred. He knew that Shark had to talk about this sooner or later – better sooner than later – because going through this experience alone could do him no good, and Hawk wished that Shark would just swallow whatever emotion was holding him back and go talk to Axel. Axel, despite his obvious concern, compassion and clear desire to discuss this, made a point not to push Shark into anything, and it was in times like these when Hawk doubted the decision was right. He was certain that what plagued him were nightmares.
The thought made Hawk positively unsure. He wasn't the touchy-feely type. He wanted to help, that much he grudgingly admitted, if only to himself. The problem was that he had absolutely no clue how to proceed. He simply had no experience with these things.
He propped his chin on his hand, unconsciously drumming a light rhythm with his fingertips against the table cloth.
"Any luck with your research, King?" Shark asked, relaxing somewhat when no other questions were forthcoming.
"Oh, I'm doing good, don't worry about it," King answered easily, not turning from where he was making a sandwich on the counter. Hawk studied the nape of his neck with interest, unwillingly curious about his activity, but not voicing the question, knowing it wouldn't be answered anyway. Then he turned his head to see Shark's gaze drop back into the coffee cup and frowned.
As if feeling his gaze, Shark raised his head and grinned at him brightly. "Looks like you are eventually going to become a star, Hawk," he teased. "Meet any pretty ladies yet?"
Now, Hawk might have been egoistical, overconfident and conceited, but contrary to the popular belief, he wasn't stupid. He knew a diversion when he saw one, especially considering that Shark didn't even bother to be subtle about it.
Try and send him on an ego trip. Sweet.
Did people really think he was that shallow?
Hawk leaned back in his chair. "Sure."
It came out colder than he had meant, and Shark suddenly looked uncertain. Nice, Hawk, nice, now go and push him away and make him clam up even further.
Pushing his momentary hurt aside, Hawk smiled at his friend, making the smile looked as smug as possible. "And guess what? They are all in love with me. Secretly, of course. Too shy, don't let it show. Jeanne, in particular. Now, I know she seems to hate me, but you know how the girls are. She's just masking her true feelings 'cause she's too afraid I'll reject her."
Shark actually laughed. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that, dude."
King finished making coffee, sat and pushed one of the cups to Hawk, and there was a short comfortable silence. Then Shark said, quietly:
"My Mom's coming back from China today."
Hawk put his cup down with a clink and absently clapped King on the back as the man choked. There was another pause, interrupted only by coughing, then King said, his voice hoarse: "Sorry."
"You want us to come?" Hawk asked, remembering the promise and knowing that Shark wouldn't ask.
Shark smiled sheepishly: "If you have time, you know, and… if you don't mind…"
King shook his head and held up his hand, stopping the stuttering flow of words. "Oh, give it up. You know we will."
Hawk nodded when Shark's glance settled on him, then rose to his feet, grabbing his cup: "I hate to interrupt the doves cooing, but I'll go break the news to Axel."
He saw their mouths open as if to protest, but waved it off as he approached the doorway. He let a small smirk touch his lips as soon as he was alone. Finally, there was something that he could do.