Title: Better To Have Loved And Lost
Author: AntipodeanOpaleye
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU - Alternate AJBAC. Renfro isn't stupid. The donor bank isn't empty. And a certain someone isn't dead. M/Z
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize from any other source either doesn't belong to me or is a purely coincidental occurrence. Anything that you've never seen probably belongs to me. I write for enjoyment and no copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Avoiding my editing efforts once again, I present to anyone who cares to read it my newest Dark Angel fanfic effort, and my first non-M/A romance. I'm going all George Lucas on this one, however - it's part 2 of 3. If I get some decent feedback on this one, there's a prequel and a sequel for it as well. That's about all, really. I do hope you enjoy it; it's an idea that's been floating around it my head for some time now. I tried to make the scenario as believable as possible, so please bear with anything you find too far-fetched. Thanks, and please R and R!
AO
She had been watching from the door for some time now. She had been watching her die, watching him struggle. She knew the logistics; she knew how long they could wait.
She was banking on intuition, and as a rule, she did not do that. It was risky, and it was often wrong. No, she was a firm believer in the factual and the plausible, in supporting an idea with experience and logic. Tonight, however, was different. There was something special about the two of them; what it was she couldn't say, but she was certain it was there, something distinctive that set them apart. And if she could prey on what she did know, and manipulate the situation, she may have a chance to find out exactly what was so wondrous about either one of them. If she was wrong, she would face disappointment and possibly the questioning of her authority. Nothing she couldn't handle with time. But if she was right, she would have two perfect soldiers back in her possession by the time the night was over.
He was a protector by nature; he had displayed that fact countless times. He was a passionate man, and a ruthless soldier; but above all, he was a leader beyond compare, with a sense of responsibility beyond reckoning. She did not doubt his reactions should the scenario go as predicted.
"30 again." The time was almost right.
"Charge." They were getting closer.
"Clear." Any minute now…
The monotone ring as 452 flatlined was her cue.
"What's her condition?" Elizabeth Renfro rushed in, playing perfectly the part of the concerned director. It didn't take much effort to appear convincing; she was anxious enough as it was. She immediately began to visually assess 452's condition, fighting to maintain her composure as she took in the damage. She knew the prognosis before the medical technician standing before her divulged it.
"The bullet went clean through. Her right ventricle is collapsed. She's gone."
She spoke slightly louder as she continued, knowing that even if she hadn't, 599 would have heard her anyway.
"Is there damage to any other organs?" she asked professionally, and was met with a shake of the head. She had to repress a smirk as she replied with a false measure of regret.
"Prep her for harvesting."
"No." The word uttered behind her was bone chilling, and resonated ominously through the single moment of silence before the transgenic known as X5-599 broke free of the restraints on the stretcher he had previously been retained to, leaping with an elegance only a genetic hybrid such as himself could display in such conditions, and incapacitating the nearest soldier, cracking his neck with no apparent effort and commandeering his weapon. This was wonderful; everything was going just according to plan…
He came towards her, predatorily, and she attempted to move clear of his fury. He pursued, and wrapped his muscular arms about her upper torso, resting so that she was in a non-life-threatening, but incredibly uncomfortable chokehold. He did not wish to kill her yet; he would concentrate on his beloved 'sister' first; his emotions would rule his judgement for the time being - she had witnessed it in him and the other '09 escapees before.
"Bring her back!" he shouted with a passionately desperate rage at the nearest doctor, the stolen firearm in his hands aimed towards the surgeon, more than prepared to fire at the slightest misstep. The med tech shook almost imperceptibly at the anger the transgenic before him was displaying. He feared the soldier in front of him; he had good reason to.
"Her heart's too badly damaged," he spoke with the only the smallest shred of the authority a surgical technician such as himself should have possessed in such a situation, and his voice trembled slightly with the response, fading into oblivion as 599's eyes darkened dangerously.
"Then transplant her," came the furious retort.
Renfro shook her head once, and only once - more of a reflexive incline of her head - catching the doctor's eyes with a deadly glare that silenced any remaining ounce of protest he possessed.
"There's nothing in the donor bank," he choked out nervously. At this point, Renfro smiled in a twisted sort of approval as she watched 599 process the words with a ferocious rapidity that nearly caught her off guard.
"Then you need a donor."
When he jerked her closer towards him with such force as the X-Series was wont to use, she tensed notably. It would benefit no one if he killed her in a fit of rage. And given the circumstances, she was not doubtful that he would do so without a second thought. She had to act quickly.
"It won't do her any good. She's an X5. She needs an X5 heart." The words were muffled and strangled as she tried to steady her breathing. 'Come on, Liz. Focus on the task at hand. The goal.' She sighed in relief as he flung her carelessly and forcibly aside, despite the pain it caused her. She glanced nervously to the corner, where the X6 who had accompanied the captives and had previously been standing guard outside the doors was now awaiting to carry out her orders.
'State your designation, soldier.'
'X6-701, ma'am.'
Renfro smiled. 701's record proceeded her, and she was more than capable of handling the present task.
'You'll do.'
The young female simply stood at attention, obediently awaiting her orders.
'The male X5-599 is currently being retained in this med lab. I want him protected. It is suspected he will become a danger to himself. His safety is your highest priority. Use whatever means necessary to ensure his welfare.'
'Yes ma'am.'
Reassured, her attention shifted to the X5 male who was currently hovering over the motionless form of 452. He stroked her cheek gently
"Fight them, Maxie. Promise me you'll fight them." His words were simple, yet meaningful, even to the stoic Director, as she watched a single tear fall from his eye, leaving a salty trail from lash to chin, before gracefully falling onto 452's lips.
"I love you Max," he whispered softly in her ear, smoothing her hair and kissing her forehead gently before straightening and meeting the eyes of the medical technicians, and finally, the infamous Madame Director herself. When he spoke, it was with confidence, resolve - not dejection. He was doing what he felt necessary, what he needed to do for those he felt responsible for. It filled her with pride to imagine him back where he belonged, among his own kind - under her supervision.
"X5-599, I've got a heart for you." His voice was hollow, and it sent chills up her spine as she watched the pistol reach his temple.
The gunshot resonated, and if it hadn't been for the fact that strategic training was something the young X6-701 had excelled in, she may have been too late. Fortunately, she hadn't been, and had successfully managed to prevent the heroic suicide with an intensive blow to the head as she realigned the gun.
The bullet was fired still, and ricocheted off of the metal ceiling, tearing straight through the chest cavity of another of the medical technicians, who crumpled lifeless to the floor in an instant. Collateral damage, Renfro thought shrewdly, her seemingly unfeeling reaction only further vindicated as she observed the unconscious transgenic at her feet. While 599 may look forward to experiencing some minor discomfort, should the head wound not have fully healed upon his awakening, he was most definitely alive. In so, her priorities lay more pressingly with 452. She spun furiously towards the doctors still gathered around the female transgenic, currently stunned by the sudden death of one of their number. She almost began to sympathize, but she quickly abandoned the idea - the dead could undeniably wait.
"Transplant her! If there's any incident, I'll see to it personally that each one of you is held properly responsible." Renfro's voice held a lethal edge, and it took only seconds for the medical staff to again resume work on 452. She turned from them, confident in their ability to handle the situation without her motivation, and instead rested her eyes again on the limp form of 599, and the X-6 that had so skillfully subdued him.
"Excellent work, soldier," she addressed the young killer, dismissing her to return to her post. She turned with a salute and left. Renfro turned to the remaining soldiers in the far corners of the room, beckoning them towards her. They approached swiftly, and she indicated the form of 599 on the floor before her.
"Sedate him. Make sure he doesn't wake up for at least 72 hours. Get him into a recovery room, and restrain him properly. His foremost instinct will be to run when he regains consciousness; we cannot allow him to achieve this."
Her orders were obeyed instantaneously, and she was pleased. She was a born leader, she knew. And finally, she had proven it beyond reasonable doubt.
He had only been awake for a few minutes, according to the surveillance. He would want answers, she knew - and she was most insistent that she, and only she, would provide him with them. His answers would be the answers she wanted him to have, and nothing more. Director knows best, after all.
"599," Renfro greeted the soldier as she entered the room. He remained seated in the small recovery bed, the blow that had been made to his head now little more than a dull sting after only a few hours. But he didn't need to know that.
"Where is she?" he demanded in a deadly tone that would have had the potential to wrack her nerves had she not been aware that he was sufficiently restrained.
"She? 452 is deceased, 599. You saw that with your own two eyes. So in reality, 'she' no longer exists. Her organs are now residing in the donor bank, waiting for a more deserving soldier who might require them."
"You fucking bitch," he growled as he struggled against the binds about his wrists and ankles. "Never talk about her like that again. Ever."
"Tut tut, 599," she admonished sarcastically. "Obedience appears to be the first thing we'll be needing to work on once you're on the mend. As well as that temper of yours. But more importantly, maybe a certain attachment that's holding you back?" She paused, and watched as his eyes flashed with a passion, intense yet fleeting, that told her everything she needed to know.
"You loved her, didn't you? Unrequited love, perhaps? But you gave her your heart, didn't you? Whether she knew it or not. As you tried to do again, literally, to save her life. But your pathetic attempt at self-sacrifice was a botched job, 599, just like you, and so here you sit, very much alive, while 452's corpse rots in the ground. How ironic," she chuckled as she watched absolute hatred dance about his pained features.
"But then again, they do say that it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Please, do tell me if that works out to be true for you." She began to rise from her seat, tearing her eyes from the fascinating display of emotions that were vying for supremacy within the transgenic before her. She had another patient to visit before midday.
"You'll be reinserted into a unit within the week, your recovery pending. From there you can most likely look forward to reindoctrination and a few long vacations to Psy-Ops. Unless you decide to persuade me otherwise." Renfro smirked before turning on her heel and heading for the door. "Have a nice day."
She exited silently, leaving Zack to his tormenting grief.
She had been right; he did love Max. More than even he had realized before he saw her lying motionless on that stretcher, her life dangling by a thread. And he didn't think twice, or even once for that matter, as he positioned the gun at his temple and prepared to fire. But he had failed her. Again. Somehow, beyond his knowledge or imagination, he had failed, and now the only person he'd even cared about in more than a platonic way, the only person who could elicit a smile from him - the only person he could see himself ever being with - that one person was gone. And he was back at Manticore. He had failed Max, by allowing her to die, and he had failed the others - his siblings - by abandoning them.
And now there was nothing.
He was nothing.
The steady beeping was almost calming - it kept her from attempting to leap from the bed she was currently situated in. Yet it was that beeping that roused her from her rest, and made her aware of her very sterile surroundings, and the very blonde woman who was sitting next to her. Instinct set in as she realized where she was, and she fought fiercely against the restraints on her wrists, her eyes blazing and her expression indignant. She was met with a look of something that could very possibly have been sincere concern. But not necessarily concern for her.
"Careful. You'll pull a stitch."