Images
Denise N. Rodier
A/N: This story started off from watching one DA ep, and going, "Hey, I wonder why..." Quite some time later, I've finally finished what became of that thought. I'll post chapters every 2 or 3 days until the end. There are heavy spoilers from Cold Comfort through Rising. I hope you enjoy!
Thanks: I owe major kudos first to the Almighty Alaidh, who was an angel to beta this for me. I owe other major kudos to Kyre, first for her transcripts, which can be found at darkangelkyre.8m.net, and secondly for her amazing assistance in seeking doorknobs and lighting.
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Prologue
Original Cindy slowly made her way back to the rat-haven hellhole she called an apartment. The shaking had stopped, but her entire body seemed to hurt. A physical reminder of the terror that had gripped her. She would have loved nothing better than to lie down for about a week and dream away the nightmare of that horrific day.
But you know you'd hang on it anyhow, no matter how much it sucked. Every second in this broke down world counts. If it didn't, what would be the point of living for another one?
She couldn't help but laugh as she walked down the graffiti-filled hallway of her floor, thinking back to the day she'd called her friend a mystery. Well, the mystery had finally been revealed.
Original Cindy turned a corner, and felt the laughter die in her throat. She could see a body that she recognized as her super, sprawled in the hall, near a door that was half-ripped off its hinges.
Her door.
Her heart began to race as she cautiously approached it, knowing that if any of those super freaks were still around, she'd have no chance. She carefully looked around the edge of the door, and gasped at what she saw. She stepped through the doorway, and knew that even the rats wouldn't have the place now.
It seemed as though a tornado had touched down in the middle of the room. Not a surface had been left untouched. Everything had been swept off of the kitchen table and now lay broken on the floor. Even her bed had been ransacked. But even amidst all the chaos, Original Cindy found her eyes drawn to one calm space. She frowned for a split-second as she examined that blank spot on her refrigerator. Her eyes began to tear as she realized that the picture of her and Max was gone.
Original Cindy collapsed on the wreckage on the floor. It had taken months to get Max in a picture. The girl shied away from cameras constantly. No matter who was trying to take the snapshot, Max would twist and maneuver herself until she was out of the frame. And oftentimes, no one noticed until they got the film back and noticed Max wasn't there. But for whatever reason, one bright, sunny day when Sketchy whipped out his camera, Max looked at Original Cindy and edged her bike closer. Max gave her one of the most brilliant smiles Original Cindy had ever seen before turning towards the camera. Original Cindy had barely had enough time to shake away her amazement before Sketchy took the shot. And after he had it developed, Original Cindy begged, bribed, and beat him until he gave her that picture. Every day, she saw it before she went off to that worthless job of hers, and knew that no matter how bad Normal could get, how small the tips were, how long the runs were, she knew that Max had given her that one moment. That was enough to make the day all good, all the time.
And now it was gone.
The tears ran down her face, first in a small trickle, then a stream, and then a flood. She sobbed, mourning the loss of her innocence that day. Not just the innocence that the super freaks had stolen, but the innocence that Max had taken, as well. She hadn't meant to, but just her revelation had stripped it from Cindy. Stripped away the blissful ignorance she had lived with all her life. Even amidst the ruin of a world that had once been so powerful, she had always believed that there was something good in the spirit of the people.
After hearing Max's story – at least the parts her friend would share – Original Cindy wasn't so sure anymore. She had uncovered a darkness that she hadn't even dreamed existed. And that very knowledge felt like a smudge on her soul.
She cried for several long, painful minutes, before the tears finally slowed and dried. She didn't move, though. Just continued to huddle among the wreckage, until she began to drift off.
And in those moments between consciousness and sleep, she realized something. She had known. She had known for a long time. She just never had let herself believe.
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Chapter 1 - Taking Comfort from the Cold
Coming Monday, August 18