I remember you, 656.
What happened to you?
The last time I saw you, we were ten years old and we got separated at a sector checkpoint. Even then I was looking out for me, Number One. I was either going to get stranded in New York with you, or over the city line and into territory where I could disappear, without you. We looked nothing short of ridiculous, wearing civilian apparel with our buzz cuts growing out.
I sat with you on a low wall, eating sandwiches we'd bought from stealing change. I was starving and stuffed it almost whole into my mouth as you munched along crusts in your own delicate way. You raised your eyebrows at me and gave me a little punch on the arm. "Hey, Brinny, there's still gonna be a sandwich in two seconds! Slow down."
I hit my sister back and swallowed, looking out over the crowd swarming onto buses. "Oh, Tinga, look, it's our bus!" said I, jumping down from the wall. Even though I was small, I was fast. You wiped at your mouth, stuffed your sandwich into your pocket and attempted to follow, but at that second a crowd swarmed before you and you hit out at them in desperation.
"Wait, Brin, I can't catch up!" you screamed as I hurtled toward the bus. I could see two seats by the window and hopped from foot to foot impatiently.
"Tinga, hurry up!"
"I'm trying!"
I sighed in relief as you caught up to me and I gave you a little shake. "Don't DO that, Tinga!" I reprimanded.
"Sorry, Brin," you said to me. "Come on, baby, let's go." I grabbed your hand and pulled you forward with me. It wasn't safe in New York. No, Washington was where we needed to be, and who better to be with me than you, X5-656?
Suddenly, you stopped and dropped my hand. I could see the bus was getting ready to go, and I started to jog toward it, assuming you were following.
I left you behind. You yelled, "Brin, don't leave me!" as the crowd surged forward, taking me with them.
I was afraid. Afraid I'd made the wrong decision. No, it wasn't right, how could I be so selfish, how could I leave my best friend, my favourite sister behind? What kind of awful person would ever do that? So I screamed as loudly as I could over the roar of the crowd, "Meet me in Washington, Tinga!"
"Brin!" you called to me, as the bus revved its engine. "Brin, please wait!"
"In Washington!" I yelled. "WASHINGTON!" I was terrified that you weren't able to hear me.
I climbed onto the bus and tugged on the bus driver's sleeve. "Sir, you can't go, my sister can't get through the crowd-"
"You call your sister from Washington," the driver grunted, and the bus pulled away.
I took a window seat and pressed my hand against the window, tired and distraught. You stood as men and women fought around you to get onto buses, to get away from a crime-torn, Pulse-ravaged New York. Some teenagers pushed you as they ran past, and you had no remark for them. I felt like I'd shot you
through the heart as your shoulders slumped and you cried.
I dilated my pupils to zoom in on you, only you and on the tears falling from your eyes. "In Washington, Tinga," I whispered. Then the bus turned a corner and you were gone.
I made my way to Washington and stayed there for a year, hoping that you would come, that you would try to find me. You never did. I knew you didn't love me any more.
You always used to baby me in Manticore, because no one else would. When Ben would tell stories, we'd always sit on the same windowsill, or the same cot. Your arm would be linked through mine- you were definitely my favourite sister. And even though you never said it, you loved me just a bit more than the other X5s.
It's all changed now. You climb out of the car on the other side of the chain link fence. When you look at me, you see the enemy. How can I be the enemy to you? You don't smile when you see me- your mind thinks only of your little boy. I can't believe you have a child, a husband. Your hair is far from a buzz cut, it's so long I can't see where it ends. You used to sulk when they shaved our heads in Manticore, it was one of the only things that could make you sulky.
And you cry and hug your husband, and I hear you say to him, "Please don't let him forget me."
Your little boy. He definitely reminds me of you. But what about me, 656? You forgot me. Selfish, lying... I TRIED to make them wait. I TRIED to make a rendezvous for us in Washington, and I waited there for a year, 656, every day stopping by the police station asking for girls who looked like you. I wanted you for a sister, 656, and you betrayed me. It killed me to see you cry that day- you almost never cried in Manticore.
I didn't mean to leave you behind.
Your eyes meet mine. Tears well up in your eyes. Mine are hard and cold. Before I came back home, I would have ran over, hugged you, chastised you good-naturedly for never coming to Washington like I'd said. Ridiculous notions of love would have clouded my mind back then and kept me from my mission. I would have deluded myself into thinking- but that's all in the past now.
I'm bringing you home, X5-656.
* * *
I remember you, Brin.
What happened to you?
You used to be my best friend. My partner in crime. We weren't quite a package, where you got Brin-and-Tinga instead of Brin. Or Tinga. We were close though, but with our independence. When I realised what love was, it was for you. Then I realised I felt the same way about all my siblings. I didn't know it was called love then. It was just a good feeling.
I just wanted a normal life, the kind where I could grow up, get a job, meet a nice man and marry him, and raise a family. When I was little, you were always in that picture of happiness. I couldn't imagine happiness without you, because you were always around in those rare times when I felt happy. The first time you ever smiled, laughed... it was for me.
I used to baby you even though we were the same age. Probably because I didn't get babied myself. I was the mother figure, the nurturer, but I still packed a punch. I'll never be able to forget the look of complete shock on Charlie's face when he saw me pull a gun out of the wall. Well, I had to put it somewhere Case couldn't get it!
The night of the escape, we ran. Snow crunched under my blue, freezing feet and I struggled to catch my breath. You were so fast you seemed to fly over the snow, but you were reckless. I caught sight of a group of soldiers coming our way and pulled you behind a tree where we stood, still and shivering, for what seemed like forever.
Your hands had my upper arm in a vice-like grip, and I winced. You let go abruptly and I nodded my thanks, looking around the tree.
No one.
I turned to you, tapping my fingers against the back of my left wrist- the signal Zack had used moments before, meaning IT'S TIME.
You were wide-eyed as you followed me, big sister Tinga, through the forest, more careful now. We found a low point in the perimeter fence and scrambled over, wires scraping at our skin, cutting into our fingers as we clung on.
The moon cut a silvery silhouette through the ghostly trees of the Manticore woods, lighting up escaping children. I hoped we wouldn't be the only two to escape... or to be taken back. That would be far worse.
The two of us emerged on the highway. I'd never been so far away from that place in my life, and vapour billowed before us as we stood there, giggling nervously.
"We did it," you began, spluttering against the cold. "We actually did it!"
We jumped as an eighteen-wheel truck, the biggest vehicle I'd ever seen in my life, roared towards us out of the dark. The headlights blazed into my eyes, blinding me and making me think of Eva, who'd died for us... Then I froze in fear as some soldiers ran onto the road...
I took the initiative. I beckoned you and we jumped spectacularly through the air, landing on the truck, which took us right past them.
"We jump like those films of cats they showed us in class," I blurted, hanging onto you as cold wind stung at my face. I remembered when the Colonel had hit me in class and it had felt like that.
"Our feline DNA. Just say, 'Meow.'" You grinned at me as we sped away from Manticore- our Hell.
And we were finally free.
But now you don't smile for me, and I don't smile for you. You're a stranger, Brin, in more ways than one, and I can't understand why you don't love me any more.
I counted on your love. It kept me going. I longed for structure, and late-night Nomaly stories, and trips to the High Place, and for Zack and Max and Ben... for all of you. But I'd keep going, saying, "As long as Brin loves me I know I can go on." A cold comfort for a child who felt like a broken toy who'd never work again. Was it all a lie?
Was that why you left me behind, Brin?
* * *
I remember you, 656.
What happened to you?
You were healthy in Manticore, 656. Almost all of the X5 kids were aiight. Jack had his seizures, as did Max and Zack, and Splint was allergic to everything under the sun. I developed the aging disease, the progeria. But you... I never would have guessed you had a genetic anomaly like this, 656. It's incredible. You don't even know how sick you are...
Director Renfro told me the Colonel would have you back doing drills at Manticore while you steadily worsened and died, finally. A temporary soldier. She's going to take you somewhere, 656, where they'll make you better. I could even come and visit you, if they'll let me-
I'll save you from him, 656. Then they'll make you better, like they made me better, and we'll both be home together before you know it. You'll be my sister again.
It's changed, back at base. The other X5s, when I went back, they weren't like siblings any more. They taunted the fallen instead of bearing them on their shoulders and saw no need to speak after lights out. It startled me.
You're secure inside the SUV, and I speak into my walkie-talkie. "Move in."
I'm driving us away. You sob quietly in the backseat, and the Colonel barks at me through the radio. "... Delta, this is control. This boy was not a target. Under whose authority do you think you're-"
Bastard.
I turn off the radio and you become hysterical behind me.
"What did you do? Where's Case?" you cry out to me.
Your kid, is it? Case, son of X5-656, the first ever successful X5 offspring, so I'm told. You should be proud. Your first words to me in just over a decade are of your little child.
I take out the other soldiers in the SUV and your face is alight in wonder, in happiness. You remind me of the little girl back at Manticore, who called me Brinny and baby and made me feel she loved me.
The little girl I called Tinga.
"I knew you couldn't be one of them," you gush.
My face twists in anger, in shame. You'll be one of us again before long, my sister.
"Shut up," I say fiercely, and my fist connects with your forehead, sending you slumped into the backseat.
I look and see the waiting terrain vehicles of the soldiers from the base and, panicking, hit the brakes. The SUV screeches to a halt and I hit my head on the windshield, crumpling to the side.
I fight the urge to pass out for as long as I am able. No... no, I have to make sure they get you out, 656, because they'll be able to make you better. I can't let you die, 656, even though you don't love me any more.
My reindoctrination screams its silent words at me. There's no such thing as love. Emotions will get you killed. It's phony sentimentality, X5-734, and it will get you killed.
There's no such thing as love.
I have to make sure... make sure you're saved, taken away so they can help you, keep you alive, 656... then you'll be back with me.
Blood pricks at my forehead and I hear them approaching- my allies. Our allies. My eyes flicker and close, just as I see them pulling you out of the SUV, to safety.
Safe.
I awaken and you're gone, and they're bandaging a cut on my forehead in the infirmary. Director Renfro stands at the door watching.
The infirmary becomes deserted, and she moves over to me. "I won't stay long, 734, because I'm needed at a meeting. I'd just like to let you know that the objective has been accomplished- 656 is in custody and preparing to undergo treatment for her sickness."
I'm giddy with relief. You're OK... you're OK, 656. I try to ask about you, but my mouth won't open.
"Rest now. You'll be back on the field in a few hours, 734. As you were."
She leaves. I lie back, staring at the ceiling and remember times when I would be in the infirmary back at the Wyoming facility and you'd sneak there. Sometimes you'd bring one of the others, but usually you'd come alone. Even if it was only for a few minutes, you'd loosen the blankets and make sure I was comfortable. Always, you'd leave executing the military sign language for PROCEED WITH CAUTION. There wasn't much room to be careful if you were condemned to the infirmary- if they said, "Hop on this table so we can break your arm, 734." I was supposed to hop on the table and like it.
I appreciated the gesture, though.
Once, feverish, I lay in the infirmary by night as X5-417 kept watch for you, 656. You were fussing around my bed like the mother I never had, loosening blankets tucked in tightly as a shroud. "Brin," you said importantly, "They're obviously not trying very hard to bring down your core temperature. Give me a smile, come on."
I bravely smiled for you. "You should be the doctor, Tinga," I whispered.
"Your lips are all dry and cracked, poor baby. Have you had a drink today?"
"No, Tinga."
"Stay still, soldier, while I get you a drink. No, Jack, I can't leave yet. Brin's thirsty!"
X5-417 hopped from foot to foot like I did when I was impatient. He was nervous, afraid of being caught. You went down to the other end of the infirmary and found a soap dish that you rinsed out as best you could before filling it with water from a tap. I sipped at it and made a face. "I hate the taste of soap."
"I tried, Brin," you said earnestly. "Come on, Brin, out of bed, I have to tidy it all up for you." I scrambled out of bed and stood, my forehead searing, on the cold floor while you pulled and smoothed at institutional grey blankets.
I curled back up in bed, sniffling. You patted my shoulder soothingly. "Be brave, soldier. I'll try and visit you tomorrow, OK?"
I nodded silently.
"Not me!" said 417, skittering catlike over the freezing floor to tug on your sleeve. "Come on, Tinga, we have to go... we have to go back to bed." You remained, smiling at me, more beautiful in my eyes that 493's Blue Lady. 417 tried to think of another way to entice you back into the safe nighttime confines of the dormitory. "Ben will be telling a Nomaly story, Tinga."
You started and looked to 417, who nodded at me. "You'll be back in class by the end of the week, Brin," he said, and ran out of the infirmary.
PROCEED WITH CAUTION, you signed to me, and followed.
You had an influence that made me better, 656. I know things can't ever be like the way they were... but I want you to live. Even just for the years you spent looking out for me.
Please try to live.
* * *
I remember you, Brin.
What happened to you?
They've drugged me, but I'm still conscious. I don't know what they've put into my body, but it can't be good. I can't feel numerous IV tubes being jammed into my limbs. Oh my God, they've paralysed me. I'm worse than dead. I don't want to die, I have to live. I've got a child to bring up!
Case...
Charlie...
Brin. Brin, what did you do this for? I feel like everything I've ever known about you is out the window. Brin, I've never done anything but love and adore you, as a sister, as a friend. How could you possibly feel you had to do this? Imprison me?
They've changed you, Brin. You've been turned. They might as well have killed you because the sweet, dynamic, intelligent child I knew is dead. All that's left is a faceless shell of what you used to be. I never even got the chance to say goodbye.
I want to scream and pound on the walls of this giant tank that's slowly filling up with an oxygenated green liquid. "Let me out!" I want to bellow. "I can't help what I was born but YOU DON'T OWN ME! Let me go!"
The liquid presses against my face. My eyes are open and I float without blinking or breathing- a living corpse. I want to cry but it's impossible. I've lost everything I've ever held dear.
Dead women don't cry.
How long I'm in here, I honestly don't know. And I think I'm not long for this world. I blank out for hours on end before recalling with amazing clarity the oddest memories- you, next to me in class. We were lit up like the angels the kindest of the doctors whispered we were meant to be, milky light filtering through frosted glass.
The night before the dormitory had been debating exactly who this elusive 'Jesus' person who popped up so much in the soldiers' speech was. You sat next to me, cherubic, six years old. You'd never eaten chocolate or played on a swing, but you'd been yelled at for a hand that shook as you held your pistol, you'd been able to say, "Sir, yes sir!" before you knew there was such a thing as a smile that could grow on an X5 face.
The teacher droned away to us as we listened patiently. "... and a CO brings order, privates bring uniformity-"
He'd been giving us this speech for about twenty minutes. My mind drifted momentarily, remembering the disgusting casserole served in the mess hall the night before and I sneaked a look at you.
With typical six-year-old humour, you smiled with cynical eyes and mouthed, AND 417 BROUGHT SOME FIREARMS, AND I BROUGHT A BLANKET, AND JESUS BROUGHT A CASSEROLE. YUCK.
WHO'S THIS JESU- I began, but was shocked still by a yell of, "Eyes front!"
And I blank out again, and the sounds of Charlie calling, and Case crying for me in the night, and fifty pairs of Manticore boots marching down a greyed hall.
There's grey, there was only grey in my childhood, and there's green of the forest while you run behind me, and a riot of colour as we come out into the world together. There's white, white at my wedding to Charlie and various blues of Case's baby clothes.
Grey, black, grey, black, black, grey...
I come back. You're there, standing by the door. Motionless and carrying a gun. I'm dead to you, but you don't care, my sister. Your face is calm, awaiting orders.
Oh, Brin...
Grey, black and black and grey, red of the blood they say dripped from Danny's mouth that day in the woods when Syl accidentally shot him. Even I was distant from her that day. Only Krit was sweet to her. There's black, black, green and grey, black and grey of my childhood.
Grey and grey, I think I'm hallucinating. I imagine I can't breathe and want to scream in desperation when I can't move. Green and red and grey, black and grey, beige and grey, grey and grey and grey and grey and grey...
Lungs filling with air like life itself, and oh God, I can't breathe. LET ME OUT! Let me out! I'm breathing fine and yet I'm dying, a dying corpse. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, fight to breathe in, hold on, because I must, breathe in, hold it, don't stop, don't stop...
I wonder if any of this is showing on my face. You stand there motionlessly. Are you smiling? You're smiling, very slightly. Smiling. Smiling! At me! Brin, why can't you help me? Your smile, it's... it's scaring me. Like you know some secret.
Help me, Brin. I can't hold on much longer.
* * *
I remember you, sister.
What happened to you?
I see you through all the green liquid. You're leaving me, I can tell. How could that ever happen? It wasn't supposed to be this way. I remember, we sat on a roof after the first free day we ever spent together, looking down at the lights of a town and hoping there was a place for us in this world. "I can't believe we had to leave them all behind," I said.
"Yes, and that Eva and Jack are dead," you whispered in fluted tones.
The stars were brighter than I'd ever seen them. "Our unit's been scattered, what do we do?" I said in a singsong voice.
"Redeploy, ma'am," you giggled.
We laughed. You turned to me. "Promise you won't leave me, ever?"
I nodded. "We'll never be apart."
But we were apart. We were apart all this time, and I constantly wondered whether you loved me... whether you'd ever loved me. Whether it had all been a lie, or a dream. A dream in grey that was perfect all the same.
You're leaving. I want to reach out to you and sob and tell you all the things I never got to say. My sister, you were once mine just as much as I was yours. I so looked forward to us being able to be together again.
I can't fight it- I'm leaving you now. Wherever I go in life, wherever I've been, I can't escape my birth identity. I'm a soldier, bred to be vicious and never to form weak emotional bonds with fellow members of the unit.
You've come so far since that day in New York, my sister. I will never stop regretting the fact that we didn't keep our promise, we didn't leave together.
You are one of the few who are close to me, who are now scattered to the winds. May the Blue Lady save them, as our brother would have said. Wherever it is I'm headed, I want you to know... that however far I must go to get there, my sister, one thing is clear.
I will remember you.
* * * * *
NOTE: I am just a complete sucker for all the X5s, the cute little flashback kiddies, aren't I? Check out my bio if you don't know what I mean- every one of my fics features at least one flashback kid, particularly Jace and Eva, who I rather like for some reason.
Anyhow, did any of you get the joke I weaved in here? (Don't worry, I wasn't trying to make Tinga's death funny!) I know it's probably completely obvious to you, but I managed to sneak in the titles of all the episodes that feature appearances by the adult Brin and Tinga. Seriously. I am that obsessed and literary. Look back if you didn't spot it, (which is probably very few of you as it's such a lame joke), and you'll find 'Cold Comfort', 'Hit A Sista Back', 'The Kidz Are Aiight', '...And Jesus Brought A Casserole' and 'Meow'.
I am so strange.
Oh, and for the die-hard Brin fans, please don't overreact and flame me 'cause I think I might have made Brin sound slightly, um, evil. Sorry about that! It was necessary for the storyline! This is POST-reindoctrinated Brin, not PRE-reindoctrinated Brin, who I'm sure was very nice and not evil.
DISCLAIMER: 'Dark Angel' belongs to Fox and James Cameron. Not me. So don't sue.
What happened to you?
The last time I saw you, we were ten years old and we got separated at a sector checkpoint. Even then I was looking out for me, Number One. I was either going to get stranded in New York with you, or over the city line and into territory where I could disappear, without you. We looked nothing short of ridiculous, wearing civilian apparel with our buzz cuts growing out.
I sat with you on a low wall, eating sandwiches we'd bought from stealing change. I was starving and stuffed it almost whole into my mouth as you munched along crusts in your own delicate way. You raised your eyebrows at me and gave me a little punch on the arm. "Hey, Brinny, there's still gonna be a sandwich in two seconds! Slow down."
I hit my sister back and swallowed, looking out over the crowd swarming onto buses. "Oh, Tinga, look, it's our bus!" said I, jumping down from the wall. Even though I was small, I was fast. You wiped at your mouth, stuffed your sandwich into your pocket and attempted to follow, but at that second a crowd swarmed before you and you hit out at them in desperation.
"Wait, Brin, I can't catch up!" you screamed as I hurtled toward the bus. I could see two seats by the window and hopped from foot to foot impatiently.
"Tinga, hurry up!"
"I'm trying!"
I sighed in relief as you caught up to me and I gave you a little shake. "Don't DO that, Tinga!" I reprimanded.
"Sorry, Brin," you said to me. "Come on, baby, let's go." I grabbed your hand and pulled you forward with me. It wasn't safe in New York. No, Washington was where we needed to be, and who better to be with me than you, X5-656?
Suddenly, you stopped and dropped my hand. I could see the bus was getting ready to go, and I started to jog toward it, assuming you were following.
I left you behind. You yelled, "Brin, don't leave me!" as the crowd surged forward, taking me with them.
I was afraid. Afraid I'd made the wrong decision. No, it wasn't right, how could I be so selfish, how could I leave my best friend, my favourite sister behind? What kind of awful person would ever do that? So I screamed as loudly as I could over the roar of the crowd, "Meet me in Washington, Tinga!"
"Brin!" you called to me, as the bus revved its engine. "Brin, please wait!"
"In Washington!" I yelled. "WASHINGTON!" I was terrified that you weren't able to hear me.
I climbed onto the bus and tugged on the bus driver's sleeve. "Sir, you can't go, my sister can't get through the crowd-"
"You call your sister from Washington," the driver grunted, and the bus pulled away.
I took a window seat and pressed my hand against the window, tired and distraught. You stood as men and women fought around you to get onto buses, to get away from a crime-torn, Pulse-ravaged New York. Some teenagers pushed you as they ran past, and you had no remark for them. I felt like I'd shot you
through the heart as your shoulders slumped and you cried.
I dilated my pupils to zoom in on you, only you and on the tears falling from your eyes. "In Washington, Tinga," I whispered. Then the bus turned a corner and you were gone.
I made my way to Washington and stayed there for a year, hoping that you would come, that you would try to find me. You never did. I knew you didn't love me any more.
You always used to baby me in Manticore, because no one else would. When Ben would tell stories, we'd always sit on the same windowsill, or the same cot. Your arm would be linked through mine- you were definitely my favourite sister. And even though you never said it, you loved me just a bit more than the other X5s.
It's all changed now. You climb out of the car on the other side of the chain link fence. When you look at me, you see the enemy. How can I be the enemy to you? You don't smile when you see me- your mind thinks only of your little boy. I can't believe you have a child, a husband. Your hair is far from a buzz cut, it's so long I can't see where it ends. You used to sulk when they shaved our heads in Manticore, it was one of the only things that could make you sulky.
And you cry and hug your husband, and I hear you say to him, "Please don't let him forget me."
Your little boy. He definitely reminds me of you. But what about me, 656? You forgot me. Selfish, lying... I TRIED to make them wait. I TRIED to make a rendezvous for us in Washington, and I waited there for a year, 656, every day stopping by the police station asking for girls who looked like you. I wanted you for a sister, 656, and you betrayed me. It killed me to see you cry that day- you almost never cried in Manticore.
I didn't mean to leave you behind.
Your eyes meet mine. Tears well up in your eyes. Mine are hard and cold. Before I came back home, I would have ran over, hugged you, chastised you good-naturedly for never coming to Washington like I'd said. Ridiculous notions of love would have clouded my mind back then and kept me from my mission. I would have deluded myself into thinking- but that's all in the past now.
I'm bringing you home, X5-656.
* * *
I remember you, Brin.
What happened to you?
You used to be my best friend. My partner in crime. We weren't quite a package, where you got Brin-and-Tinga instead of Brin. Or Tinga. We were close though, but with our independence. When I realised what love was, it was for you. Then I realised I felt the same way about all my siblings. I didn't know it was called love then. It was just a good feeling.
I just wanted a normal life, the kind where I could grow up, get a job, meet a nice man and marry him, and raise a family. When I was little, you were always in that picture of happiness. I couldn't imagine happiness without you, because you were always around in those rare times when I felt happy. The first time you ever smiled, laughed... it was for me.
I used to baby you even though we were the same age. Probably because I didn't get babied myself. I was the mother figure, the nurturer, but I still packed a punch. I'll never be able to forget the look of complete shock on Charlie's face when he saw me pull a gun out of the wall. Well, I had to put it somewhere Case couldn't get it!
The night of the escape, we ran. Snow crunched under my blue, freezing feet and I struggled to catch my breath. You were so fast you seemed to fly over the snow, but you were reckless. I caught sight of a group of soldiers coming our way and pulled you behind a tree where we stood, still and shivering, for what seemed like forever.
Your hands had my upper arm in a vice-like grip, and I winced. You let go abruptly and I nodded my thanks, looking around the tree.
No one.
I turned to you, tapping my fingers against the back of my left wrist- the signal Zack had used moments before, meaning IT'S TIME.
You were wide-eyed as you followed me, big sister Tinga, through the forest, more careful now. We found a low point in the perimeter fence and scrambled over, wires scraping at our skin, cutting into our fingers as we clung on.
The moon cut a silvery silhouette through the ghostly trees of the Manticore woods, lighting up escaping children. I hoped we wouldn't be the only two to escape... or to be taken back. That would be far worse.
The two of us emerged on the highway. I'd never been so far away from that place in my life, and vapour billowed before us as we stood there, giggling nervously.
"We did it," you began, spluttering against the cold. "We actually did it!"
We jumped as an eighteen-wheel truck, the biggest vehicle I'd ever seen in my life, roared towards us out of the dark. The headlights blazed into my eyes, blinding me and making me think of Eva, who'd died for us... Then I froze in fear as some soldiers ran onto the road...
I took the initiative. I beckoned you and we jumped spectacularly through the air, landing on the truck, which took us right past them.
"We jump like those films of cats they showed us in class," I blurted, hanging onto you as cold wind stung at my face. I remembered when the Colonel had hit me in class and it had felt like that.
"Our feline DNA. Just say, 'Meow.'" You grinned at me as we sped away from Manticore- our Hell.
And we were finally free.
But now you don't smile for me, and I don't smile for you. You're a stranger, Brin, in more ways than one, and I can't understand why you don't love me any more.
I counted on your love. It kept me going. I longed for structure, and late-night Nomaly stories, and trips to the High Place, and for Zack and Max and Ben... for all of you. But I'd keep going, saying, "As long as Brin loves me I know I can go on." A cold comfort for a child who felt like a broken toy who'd never work again. Was it all a lie?
Was that why you left me behind, Brin?
* * *
I remember you, 656.
What happened to you?
You were healthy in Manticore, 656. Almost all of the X5 kids were aiight. Jack had his seizures, as did Max and Zack, and Splint was allergic to everything under the sun. I developed the aging disease, the progeria. But you... I never would have guessed you had a genetic anomaly like this, 656. It's incredible. You don't even know how sick you are...
Director Renfro told me the Colonel would have you back doing drills at Manticore while you steadily worsened and died, finally. A temporary soldier. She's going to take you somewhere, 656, where they'll make you better. I could even come and visit you, if they'll let me-
I'll save you from him, 656. Then they'll make you better, like they made me better, and we'll both be home together before you know it. You'll be my sister again.
It's changed, back at base. The other X5s, when I went back, they weren't like siblings any more. They taunted the fallen instead of bearing them on their shoulders and saw no need to speak after lights out. It startled me.
You're secure inside the SUV, and I speak into my walkie-talkie. "Move in."
I'm driving us away. You sob quietly in the backseat, and the Colonel barks at me through the radio. "... Delta, this is control. This boy was not a target. Under whose authority do you think you're-"
Bastard.
I turn off the radio and you become hysterical behind me.
"What did you do? Where's Case?" you cry out to me.
Your kid, is it? Case, son of X5-656, the first ever successful X5 offspring, so I'm told. You should be proud. Your first words to me in just over a decade are of your little child.
I take out the other soldiers in the SUV and your face is alight in wonder, in happiness. You remind me of the little girl back at Manticore, who called me Brinny and baby and made me feel she loved me.
The little girl I called Tinga.
"I knew you couldn't be one of them," you gush.
My face twists in anger, in shame. You'll be one of us again before long, my sister.
"Shut up," I say fiercely, and my fist connects with your forehead, sending you slumped into the backseat.
I look and see the waiting terrain vehicles of the soldiers from the base and, panicking, hit the brakes. The SUV screeches to a halt and I hit my head on the windshield, crumpling to the side.
I fight the urge to pass out for as long as I am able. No... no, I have to make sure they get you out, 656, because they'll be able to make you better. I can't let you die, 656, even though you don't love me any more.
My reindoctrination screams its silent words at me. There's no such thing as love. Emotions will get you killed. It's phony sentimentality, X5-734, and it will get you killed.
There's no such thing as love.
I have to make sure... make sure you're saved, taken away so they can help you, keep you alive, 656... then you'll be back with me.
Blood pricks at my forehead and I hear them approaching- my allies. Our allies. My eyes flicker and close, just as I see them pulling you out of the SUV, to safety.
Safe.
I awaken and you're gone, and they're bandaging a cut on my forehead in the infirmary. Director Renfro stands at the door watching.
The infirmary becomes deserted, and she moves over to me. "I won't stay long, 734, because I'm needed at a meeting. I'd just like to let you know that the objective has been accomplished- 656 is in custody and preparing to undergo treatment for her sickness."
I'm giddy with relief. You're OK... you're OK, 656. I try to ask about you, but my mouth won't open.
"Rest now. You'll be back on the field in a few hours, 734. As you were."
She leaves. I lie back, staring at the ceiling and remember times when I would be in the infirmary back at the Wyoming facility and you'd sneak there. Sometimes you'd bring one of the others, but usually you'd come alone. Even if it was only for a few minutes, you'd loosen the blankets and make sure I was comfortable. Always, you'd leave executing the military sign language for PROCEED WITH CAUTION. There wasn't much room to be careful if you were condemned to the infirmary- if they said, "Hop on this table so we can break your arm, 734." I was supposed to hop on the table and like it.
I appreciated the gesture, though.
Once, feverish, I lay in the infirmary by night as X5-417 kept watch for you, 656. You were fussing around my bed like the mother I never had, loosening blankets tucked in tightly as a shroud. "Brin," you said importantly, "They're obviously not trying very hard to bring down your core temperature. Give me a smile, come on."
I bravely smiled for you. "You should be the doctor, Tinga," I whispered.
"Your lips are all dry and cracked, poor baby. Have you had a drink today?"
"No, Tinga."
"Stay still, soldier, while I get you a drink. No, Jack, I can't leave yet. Brin's thirsty!"
X5-417 hopped from foot to foot like I did when I was impatient. He was nervous, afraid of being caught. You went down to the other end of the infirmary and found a soap dish that you rinsed out as best you could before filling it with water from a tap. I sipped at it and made a face. "I hate the taste of soap."
"I tried, Brin," you said earnestly. "Come on, Brin, out of bed, I have to tidy it all up for you." I scrambled out of bed and stood, my forehead searing, on the cold floor while you pulled and smoothed at institutional grey blankets.
I curled back up in bed, sniffling. You patted my shoulder soothingly. "Be brave, soldier. I'll try and visit you tomorrow, OK?"
I nodded silently.
"Not me!" said 417, skittering catlike over the freezing floor to tug on your sleeve. "Come on, Tinga, we have to go... we have to go back to bed." You remained, smiling at me, more beautiful in my eyes that 493's Blue Lady. 417 tried to think of another way to entice you back into the safe nighttime confines of the dormitory. "Ben will be telling a Nomaly story, Tinga."
You started and looked to 417, who nodded at me. "You'll be back in class by the end of the week, Brin," he said, and ran out of the infirmary.
PROCEED WITH CAUTION, you signed to me, and followed.
You had an influence that made me better, 656. I know things can't ever be like the way they were... but I want you to live. Even just for the years you spent looking out for me.
Please try to live.
* * *
I remember you, Brin.
What happened to you?
They've drugged me, but I'm still conscious. I don't know what they've put into my body, but it can't be good. I can't feel numerous IV tubes being jammed into my limbs. Oh my God, they've paralysed me. I'm worse than dead. I don't want to die, I have to live. I've got a child to bring up!
Case...
Charlie...
Brin. Brin, what did you do this for? I feel like everything I've ever known about you is out the window. Brin, I've never done anything but love and adore you, as a sister, as a friend. How could you possibly feel you had to do this? Imprison me?
They've changed you, Brin. You've been turned. They might as well have killed you because the sweet, dynamic, intelligent child I knew is dead. All that's left is a faceless shell of what you used to be. I never even got the chance to say goodbye.
I want to scream and pound on the walls of this giant tank that's slowly filling up with an oxygenated green liquid. "Let me out!" I want to bellow. "I can't help what I was born but YOU DON'T OWN ME! Let me go!"
The liquid presses against my face. My eyes are open and I float without blinking or breathing- a living corpse. I want to cry but it's impossible. I've lost everything I've ever held dear.
Dead women don't cry.
How long I'm in here, I honestly don't know. And I think I'm not long for this world. I blank out for hours on end before recalling with amazing clarity the oddest memories- you, next to me in class. We were lit up like the angels the kindest of the doctors whispered we were meant to be, milky light filtering through frosted glass.
The night before the dormitory had been debating exactly who this elusive 'Jesus' person who popped up so much in the soldiers' speech was. You sat next to me, cherubic, six years old. You'd never eaten chocolate or played on a swing, but you'd been yelled at for a hand that shook as you held your pistol, you'd been able to say, "Sir, yes sir!" before you knew there was such a thing as a smile that could grow on an X5 face.
The teacher droned away to us as we listened patiently. "... and a CO brings order, privates bring uniformity-"
He'd been giving us this speech for about twenty minutes. My mind drifted momentarily, remembering the disgusting casserole served in the mess hall the night before and I sneaked a look at you.
With typical six-year-old humour, you smiled with cynical eyes and mouthed, AND 417 BROUGHT SOME FIREARMS, AND I BROUGHT A BLANKET, AND JESUS BROUGHT A CASSEROLE. YUCK.
WHO'S THIS JESU- I began, but was shocked still by a yell of, "Eyes front!"
And I blank out again, and the sounds of Charlie calling, and Case crying for me in the night, and fifty pairs of Manticore boots marching down a greyed hall.
There's grey, there was only grey in my childhood, and there's green of the forest while you run behind me, and a riot of colour as we come out into the world together. There's white, white at my wedding to Charlie and various blues of Case's baby clothes.
Grey, black, grey, black, black, grey...
I come back. You're there, standing by the door. Motionless and carrying a gun. I'm dead to you, but you don't care, my sister. Your face is calm, awaiting orders.
Oh, Brin...
Grey, black and black and grey, red of the blood they say dripped from Danny's mouth that day in the woods when Syl accidentally shot him. Even I was distant from her that day. Only Krit was sweet to her. There's black, black, green and grey, black and grey of my childhood.
Grey and grey, I think I'm hallucinating. I imagine I can't breathe and want to scream in desperation when I can't move. Green and red and grey, black and grey, beige and grey, grey and grey and grey and grey and grey...
Lungs filling with air like life itself, and oh God, I can't breathe. LET ME OUT! Let me out! I'm breathing fine and yet I'm dying, a dying corpse. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, fight to breathe in, hold on, because I must, breathe in, hold it, don't stop, don't stop...
I wonder if any of this is showing on my face. You stand there motionlessly. Are you smiling? You're smiling, very slightly. Smiling. Smiling! At me! Brin, why can't you help me? Your smile, it's... it's scaring me. Like you know some secret.
Help me, Brin. I can't hold on much longer.
* * *
I remember you, sister.
What happened to you?
I see you through all the green liquid. You're leaving me, I can tell. How could that ever happen? It wasn't supposed to be this way. I remember, we sat on a roof after the first free day we ever spent together, looking down at the lights of a town and hoping there was a place for us in this world. "I can't believe we had to leave them all behind," I said.
"Yes, and that Eva and Jack are dead," you whispered in fluted tones.
The stars were brighter than I'd ever seen them. "Our unit's been scattered, what do we do?" I said in a singsong voice.
"Redeploy, ma'am," you giggled.
We laughed. You turned to me. "Promise you won't leave me, ever?"
I nodded. "We'll never be apart."
But we were apart. We were apart all this time, and I constantly wondered whether you loved me... whether you'd ever loved me. Whether it had all been a lie, or a dream. A dream in grey that was perfect all the same.
You're leaving. I want to reach out to you and sob and tell you all the things I never got to say. My sister, you were once mine just as much as I was yours. I so looked forward to us being able to be together again.
I can't fight it- I'm leaving you now. Wherever I go in life, wherever I've been, I can't escape my birth identity. I'm a soldier, bred to be vicious and never to form weak emotional bonds with fellow members of the unit.
You've come so far since that day in New York, my sister. I will never stop regretting the fact that we didn't keep our promise, we didn't leave together.
You are one of the few who are close to me, who are now scattered to the winds. May the Blue Lady save them, as our brother would have said. Wherever it is I'm headed, I want you to know... that however far I must go to get there, my sister, one thing is clear.
I will remember you.
* * * * *
NOTE: I am just a complete sucker for all the X5s, the cute little flashback kiddies, aren't I? Check out my bio if you don't know what I mean- every one of my fics features at least one flashback kid, particularly Jace and Eva, who I rather like for some reason.
Anyhow, did any of you get the joke I weaved in here? (Don't worry, I wasn't trying to make Tinga's death funny!) I know it's probably completely obvious to you, but I managed to sneak in the titles of all the episodes that feature appearances by the adult Brin and Tinga. Seriously. I am that obsessed and literary. Look back if you didn't spot it, (which is probably very few of you as it's such a lame joke), and you'll find 'Cold Comfort', 'Hit A Sista Back', 'The Kidz Are Aiight', '...And Jesus Brought A Casserole' and 'Meow'.
I am so strange.
Oh, and for the die-hard Brin fans, please don't overreact and flame me 'cause I think I might have made Brin sound slightly, um, evil. Sorry about that! It was necessary for the storyline! This is POST-reindoctrinated Brin, not PRE-reindoctrinated Brin, who I'm sure was very nice and not evil.
DISCLAIMER: 'Dark Angel' belongs to Fox and James Cameron. Not me. So don't sue.