Title: Observing Hostile 51
Rating: FRT (it's a little dark)
Character(s): Ethan (G/E friendship)
Word count: 684
Disclaimer: Joss is
God and we all bow before him. I'm not
making any money, and there's no use suing.
Spoilers: Any and all Ethan episodes just to be safe.
Summary: A little
peek into Ethan's subconscious, and a look into the past.
Author's note: I
didn't want this to be the typical Ethan had a sucky childhood fic. Or Ethan was always a badass fic. So I tried to make him more…human. Hope it worked.
Author's note 2: I
don't know if the Initiative would've given him a 'hostile' label, but I
did. And I chose 51 because well, it
would have to be higher than Spike's number, and it's the year Robin Sachs was
born. Fitting I say.
He tossed and turned on the hard pallet that was provided for him. Distress apparent in his quiet moans, and the sheen of sweat covering any exposed skin. His dreams were erratic and tortured. Images, feelings, emotions all clouded yet flashing brightly through his minds eye.
It were as if this night his mind had decided to remind him of how he got where he was. How an intelligent, educated young man had tossed in with Chaos and let it ride.
He saw his Grandmother, down on her hands and knees in the back garden with him. Telling him of the wonders of an imaginary land. She was his guide to those wondrous places of his imagination. The loss he felt at her passing, compounded by his parents' bickering.
He again felt his dreams and aspirations crumble around him as his family was torn apart with the seeming ease of a knife through warm butter. His pleas falling upon his father's deaf ears as he was dragged away from the mother he loved with his entire being. For she had, on another level, taken his Grandmother's place as his guide.
He was never to see her again.
His mind brought him forward, his recent past blazing trails on the blank screen of his mind's cinema. He reveled in the short lived joys of drinking and talking, sharing himself with this man who'd known him for a lifetime. And he'd ruined it, turning something pleasant and merry into something of anger and hate, all in the name of Chaos.
Again the scene changed, this time bringing him reminders of his darkest period. The days when he lived only for magic, drugs, music and Chaos. This was the beginning, when he'd first fled from beneath the oppressive hand of his dictatorial father. Tired of being blamed for his parents' failed marriage. Drained by the constant heckling when he would attempt to explain his refusal to follow in the overbearing old man's footsteps. He had scrambled out the small window in the upstairs loo like a common burglar. Stealing away with only a small knapsack and his tattered dreams of an uncertain future.
He had come upon a group of boys, young men really. They were worn, and hard, shaped by the streets they lived in. They were beating on what from a distance looked like a small child. He edged closer, not fearing for his own safety, as the group was quite distracted with their prey. With his closer inspection, he discovered that what he thought was a small child, was in fact a young boy, only a few years short of his own age, with wide, terrified green eyes. He acted before his mind could instill in him any sense of caution. Reaching into the melee and grabbing the boy's hand, dragging him out of the circle of mindless violence. This would be the last time he saved the boy, for after that, it was he who would need the saving.
Times became darker, more distressing. He and the boy together through it all, quickly becoming angry young men. They had a power that consumed, and they elated in it. Embracing the high of magic mixed with narcotics and booze. Tempting fate in the name of Chaos until it was all they knew.
Of course Chaos had to claim it's price, for there is always one. Life and innocence, gone in a heartbeat.
He had thought himself prepared for any occurrence, any price that Chaos demanded he pay. He'd never thought that price was to be paid by those he held closest. One friend forced to take another's life to save them all. It was his price to pay, and he had dodged responsibility. Walking away from those terrified green eyes, pleading for him to make things right. The voice of the one whom he was supposed to keep safe haunting him. Pleading with him from that night so long in the past. "Ethan!"
He woke, frantic, gasping for breath in his cold, sterile cage. One word in an anguished scream, forced from deep inside. "Rupert!"