She draws back the curtain and thrusts open the French windows. You imagine her there, alone with the thoughts she never voices, drinking in the breeze and the scents of salt and sand. Behind her, your hand hesitates; it reaches for her shoulders and does not dare. It cannot comfort her, belonging as it does to you. It cannot lie to her, as her comforter must, telling her the one she waits for will come. At times you imagine that it is you she is waiting for; but she was waiting long before you knew her.
She is an enigma, voiceless and surreal, as though she had been dreamt, and not born, into existence. In letters, she is always the postscript, the light, flawless characters at the bottom of more forceful strokes. At home, she is the afterthought, telling you all stories but hers. Perhaps she has none, and is merely a guardian sprite that will vanish with the wave of a hand. Or perhaps she is a child of spirits, a whimsical thing amused by the mortals she chooses to serve. Either way, she will leave when she wants.
He laughs. "You tell it well. That's exactly how it was."
I shrug my shoulders, "It's not as if I'm the first. There's a reason she's called "Elf". That and "Angel".
"Angel?" he asks, "I never heard that one."
"Probably cause it's an old one, and not one she likes. They gave it to her in the prison she used to visit, cause if someone was going to die with no one there, she'd stand in as family. "Angel," you see, it's short for the Angel of Death."
"I see," he says, and it's getting unnerving. Those green lights of his haven't left mine since we started this conversation, and I'm having trouble forgetting that they belong to someone with twice my height and half my sanity. I don't think he cares; he pins me down all the more with them as he asks "And have you come to stand in her place?"
"My orders were to see what could be done," I reply as calmly as possible, "Save you if I could, make it a quick death if necessary; above all, keep you out of the Elder's hands."
"Tell Aurelius I appreciate it, but it will not be necessary. I have Depthcharge for that, and I mean to take advantage shortly."
"You could at least let me try-
"I could, and I won't. Half my spark belongs to that monstrosity of his, and you won't kill to free me; I know you won't. You're not even sure you should free me, because you know what I'm like unrestrained, and even Aurelius knows he can't keep me docile for long. I know he can't, and if ever I loved anyone enough to restrain myself on their account, it would be the Cicero family. I thank you for your efforts, but I think my way will be better for all concerned."
I nod, my consent, if not my acceptance. I do not think I will ever accept the stories as the Elders write them, or the endings as they have to be. Mostly, I do my best to fight them to the end. Unfortunately, this time, I seem to be without a battle plan.
He laughs at my obvious struggle, "Aurelius mentioned you, you know. How is it that someone with your past comes to care about my fate?"
I do not answer him.
As you leave her, you remember them, the few crumbs of heaven Primus could be bothered to spare for the starving likes of you. Aurelius (III), Rose, the late Aurelius Cicero II, Elf, Transmutate, just enough to require all five fingers on a hand to count. Four days with the Ciceros, less than one with Transmutate: five fingers once again. Count the living and you're down to two. Count the times you will see them again and you'll have as much use for hands as you've ever had for names. Why did anyone even bother with "Protoform X" or "Rampage"? It would have been more honest to call you "that thing," and that was true before you even razed Omicron to its cursed foundations! Protoform X was "that thing" they had locked up for the time being, Rampage is "that thing" that Megatron can unleash on anyone at any time, and even these noble Maximals mean "that thing" whenever they can be bothered to use your name!
Thinking of names, it occurs to you that perhaps Aurelius or Elf will put up a monument for you somewhere, a rock in the garden or something like that. You wonder if they'll put a name there, and if so, which? Protoform X was Omicron's name for you, and Rampage was Megatron's idea; you're not overly fond of either of them. Rampage is at least a name, but it's not really one you'd want carved in stone for eternity. They probably won't use it; it wasn't attached to you when you met them. Come to think of it, they never used Protoform X either, so it probably won't be that. Here lies (or is at any rate remembered) a friend? You'd like that.
Myself, I have decisions to make. Aurelius left it to me to decide whether or not to announce myself to the Maximals and offer my assistance, provided that assistance did not include helping them hand "Jack" over to the Elders ("Jack" being what We in the Business call Rampage, cause we didn't want the Elders finding out we knew about their "project"), and right now, I'm leaning towards no. If I announce myself, they'll want to know how I found them, and then they won't shut up, so the Elders will want to know, and the best way to make a lie believable is by never uttering it in the first place. Nope, Optimus, you're on your own. And by the way, I am not particularly amused by your standing around and doing nothing while a sentient being was/is being tortured on a regular basis.
That being decided (as much as anything in The Business is ever decided), there remains my situation. The ship (Charon, the Ciceros' best) is as safely hidden as she's going to be, but the way things have been going, that still means she'd be safer hidden somewhere in Hiroshima, 1945. I'm sitting on top of her right now, watching what I seriously hope are fireworks for Megatron's birthday, you know, the kind Gandalf brought to the Shire for Bilbo. See, there's a dragon, and that right there could be a mutant gryphon of some sort, and, oh, look, there's a whole bunch of pretty lights coming from both of them!
Unfortunately, I'm watching the fireworks from behind a nifty set of lenses with a good close-up feature, so I know perfectly well it ain't Gandalf over there. Jack mentioned something about a Vok, but I have no idea what he's talking about, and I don't really think he does either. He knows they're powerful, he's heard they have something to do with this whole Transmetal and Fuzor business, but that's all he can tell me. He also thinks Trantulus knows more about them than he was letting on, but like I said, I'm not making house calls right now. No, I'll just lay low and watch how this plays out before I make my next move. Rose help me, I can't go back to your brother empty handed.
Closer to the fireworks, you do not have her luxuries, be they of laying low or a ship to lie behind. The planet has become an oversized Omicron, throwing everything it has at you just to be dead sure you can't actually die. Depthcharge will be lucky to make it in time for your funeral the way things are going, assuming, of course, there is anyone else left to hold it. Why doesn't she leave? If Megatron finds her, or if someone gets careless with where they're chucking what…Aurelius is a fool. A magnanimous fool, a dearly beloved fool, but a fool nonetheless. He risks her, Ace, the "not" captain of his elite "not" security personnel (since the Cicero's do not, I repeat, do not, employ "security personnel". Not according to the paperwork, anyway) to see what can be done for a cause that was lost the moment it went online! He risks her; he risks everything! If someone finds out, if someone realizes that he sent her because he found you, sent her and never told the Elders, never intended to tell the Elders…Megatron would hand Aurelius over to the Elders in a heartbeat if it meant his freedom. Depthcharge would tell them out of rage and spite (justice, perhaps). Optimus would probably think it his duty to tell them. And the Elders…they have never liked the House of Cicero; they would be only too glad to destroy it once and for all.
Calm yourself, it will be alright. All attention is focused on Tigerhawk; they will not see a shorter-than-Rattrap human who is at any rate a fair expert at hiding herself (she learned quickly after the first mess up). They won't look for her, and she'll keep her word. See, she does nothing when Dinobot crushes his/your spark; she breaks the oath she swore to herself rather than the one she swore to you, even though she is standing a knife's throw away from your attackers (and she is good with a knife)! She'll be fine; she'll be fine.
She won't be fine. Already you have forced her to stand back and do nothing while her nightmares play out in front of her. Already you have let your temper drag her back through doors she tries so hard to lock, and worse, part of you is happy to do so. Despite everything her master has ever done for you, despite every oath you made to leave all that pertained to that house alone, her agony is what you cling to in yours. There are the usual reasons, of course; your spark feeds on it even when you for once don't want it. But then there is the other, harder than madness to ignore: for once, someone, someone who knows who you are and has every reason to despise for it, is protesting, however silently. To you, the empath, it is if someone is yelling louder than you can scream that you are a person, no matter how twisted, demented, or damned, that they have no right, none whatsoever. If Primus is just, the ghosts of Omicron can hear her just as loudly.
Alright, so, game plan. First of all, if Jack thinks he can get rid of me by crawling down some tunnel like an overgrown mole, he has another thing coming. Going down there in person may be out of the question, but that's what Kit, our resident techie, made Chip for. Come to think of it, I can use Chip for more than surveillance. Judging by what I've seen and read of Megatron (and you could make a road to the sun and back out of the papers on this guy), he's not exactly the type to go out of his way for his crew. So if I can convince him that Jack is dead, he should pretty much accept it without a second thought. Depthcharge might come lookin' around, but Megatron won't. And if Megatron thinks Jack is dead, he'll stop orderin' Dinobot to squeeze his spark like a rubber ducky, so I won't have to kill anyone. It's not an ideal fix, but it's a fix. I'll let Aurelius work out the details.
"Code L.B., spark signature Rampage," I whisper to the titanium chipmunk now in my hand. L.B. is short for Little Brother, Kit's way of calling someone a sneak. Chip leaps off my hand and disappears down the tunnel, sending images of what's going on directly to my glasses. There's no sound on this thing, but that's ok; Elf taught me how to read lips in the hospital. Not that I need to right now; any idiot could tell that Jack's mad as the place most would damn him to, Megatron thinks he's got something here, and Dinobot is in butler mode, just waiting for orders. I don't think I'm gonna like the orders much; Chip's giving me a good view of the screen Megs is lookin' at, and if that's not the Nemesis, then I'm a platypus. Great, just what we need, Megaloon in control of an indestructible person and a near indestructible ship!
Assuming worst case scenario (which anyone worth their salt in The Business always does), the Ark is a sitting duck, as is everything else, and while I can get Cheron out of here easily, there'll be no point in doing it if that madman up and offs the planet (I'm putting the odds that he'll try it at 99.9% only cause my high school math teacher taught me better than to put anything at 100). She's not a warship, Cheron; she was designed a smuggler's ship, for the rescue of refugees. She slips past detection systems like dreams slip past the waking, evades and shields like the ears of a fanatic to the facts, but her weapons are only good enough to make the grade. She won't stop the Nemesis.
She can, however, hide enough of those pre-humans Jack told me about to give our race a fighting chance. I'll go for the kids; saving them should save the most of ours, without saving so many that the Purple Pulverizer takes notice and starts lookin'. Returning to Cheron, I take to the sky, all the while keeping an eye on Jack. Much to my relief, Depth Charge is on the scene, and Jack seems ready to engage him. That ought to give me the death scene and opening I'm looking for, assuming my multi-tasking skills haven't gone to rust in the two days I've been away from the day job.
Unaware of her plans, and uninterested in his, you proceed with your own. Depth Charge breaks all precedent by waiting one sentence before attacking, but in the end, he does attack, and it's all according to plan from there. One last go-at-it for old time's sake, just for the fun of it, in case The Pit turns out to be an eternity in an abandoned cell somewhere. Of course, if Megatron gets his way, you won't have existed to be damned in the first place, and that's ok with you. No you means no scientists, no sharp metal objects, no tables just big enough to hold their prisoner, no cells too small for even that…and no Aurelius, no Rose, no Elf, no Mr. Cicero…no Transmutate, no one to show you what compassion and friendship are and then disappear…no Ace to hold out hope like…you are not going to be that poor bloke in those stories of Rose's, who spends all eternity in water he can't drink, by fruit he can't reach. A few mortal years of it are enough.
Depth Charge doesn't see it, blinded as he is by hate. He pushes down on that shard of energon as if it matters, as if in half an hour there will still have been an Omicron to avenge or a you to make it need avenging. He tells you to take it, take it to The Pit, and you obey him, letting go and laughing at the absurdity. Very well, let him have his justice for half an hour. Somewhere in the distance you feel her horror, her inability to comprehend that it is actually over and she has actually failed, but that, too, will not last. You die laughing.
No opening…didn't even stand a chance…and him lying there laughing at what ought to have the world weeping. This is how it ends, what never should have started, this…it's a good thing I can't take it in like I should, because I still have work to do. You don't break down before the job's done in My Work. And I'm late here, too; there's that Inferno person and Quickwhatits blasting everything to pieces…time to get to work.
It ends in light. You always thought there would be darkness, but there isn't, just the light from your spark exploding into your vision, and then more light. Someone's hand grabs your forearm; you can't see who. Shhhh…it's alright; I'm here; you're safe now. Their other hand is on your shoulder; you rest in her hold, for you can feel her now, and you know her. Indeed, you know her as you never did, for in your darkness you thought she was a mere candle that the darkness would swallow. Here, you see her for who she is, the light from which all darkness flees.
"Rose. How good it is to see you."
"For the half an hour or so we have left, is that it?" she laughs, "But don't worry, we shall have less and more soon enough."
"Must you speak in riddles? My chest hurts enough as it is without adding my head to the problem."
Again she laughs, "Patience." She says, caressing you as though you were a child out of sorts and not a murderer. Your eyes adjust; she is beautiful, more so, if possible, than the youngling you once left. Her hair, cedar-red, clashes less with her skin, isn't so listless anymore. Her eyes (the Ciceros' signature grey) are also more at home in this new face, with its flesh and its color. You savor every detail, forgetting that there will be no telling Aurelius that his sister is fine now.
"You're Rose Cicero."
Your strain your head over your shoulder, but you know its Depth Charge. Behind him is a transformer who looks vaguely familiar, but you doubt his name would mean much. Rose stands, extending her arm to help you up. On your feet, it hits you.
"You're standing...when I last saw you, I had to carry you from one room to the next…" You would go on, but Rose is laughing hard, and Depth Charge is staring at you like he just realized you were crazy.
"Yes, I am," she chokes, "And I just helped the largest transformer until recently alive get to his feet, but clearly that's not as impressive!"
I do not take Cheron's cloak down, for fear of attracting attention from Smog and Wayne there. If they notice the open door, I'm in trouble, but that's a chance I'll have to take. For the first time today, the Matrix seems to take my side; mothers no sooner see the opening than they take it, stuffing their little ones into the wackiest cave they have ever laid eyes on. Twiddles Dee and Dum don't notice, too high on the firepower. They don't notice a lot of things, actually. The fact that not everybody's throwing spears anymore escapes them.
Like Rampage, I delight in chaos. It shields me; you don't notice someone my height with so much else going on. You don't notice my weapons either in the downpour of so many larger and more powerful than my favored. The spearheads slip past their brothers, unnoticed and unblocked. They take Hiss in the knee and his companion in the foot; small victories, but what's a blizzard but enough snowflakes piled on top of each other? Unfortunately, I am running out of snowflakes to hide behind; the early humans fall back, all but one. He shrieks a war cry and I want to hug him, because Inferno looks at him long enough to give me an opening, which I would take, were it not for the fact that it has also attracted the attention of the now-flying Nemesis.
Smog yells something that I don't hear; probably because I don't hear anything. The world has become deafeningly quiet to my ears, and I don't really see much besides the guns of the Nemesis, about to rain hellfire on all concerned. Inferno and Quickstrike stand there, I don't know why; the early human and I get out of there as best we can. The results are predictable: Inferno and Quickstrike are burned alive in a way Old Europe could only stand and envy, while the early human and I get out with barely a bruise. Don't ask me what Megatron managed to accomplish; Cheron's more flame-resistant than the armor I'm wearing, so the human race is still up and kicking.
He's sloppy, Megatron. He drowns the place in something lethal and assumes the work is done, without ever once bothering to make sure that that's the case. I'd have been out of a job if I tried that. He'll be out of a job if this keeps up. For one thing, he's running out of a crew to be tyrant of, and considering that he himself offed two of them, the prospects aren't looking good for the (I think) last one. For another, I seriously don't think he's sober, and even Jack was only good for so long when he got on one of those bwahaha feel the terror and all that highs (hence his getting himself into the predicament he did).
Jack…I cannot help but think as I settle my ancestors into the haven that is Cheron that the future we are fighting to save is a future you could have no love for. The order that they cherish is the one that created you, unleashed you into an unsuspecting world of innocents. No, not innocents, forgive me; a world of people who would likely have done the same in your tormentor's place. My own people, the ones for whose existence I risk my own, have tortured and murdered more than you could hope to in an eternity with their best minds, the best and sanest. I love them somehow, my cold and oh so deaf fellows. I bear their rejection on my arms, my back, without and within, and I love them. And this, this makes me sane somehow.
"How do you know him?" he demands, as if it were any of his business. You are about tell him where to put that question, but Rose raises a hand to your shoulder and answers him.
"A few years ago, he came to Earth, and we opened our doors to him. He stayed for four days before he felt you coming and left so we would not be killed in the crossfire."
"How considerate," he sneers, "Is there any reason why you didn't mention something then? The Elders were under the impression that your family had never seen him, and so was I."
"We had the footage of what had happened at Omicron," she replied softly, "the things they never gave access to. It cost us in lives to get it. We were not going to give him back to them. We did tell you, in a way; we told you where we thought he might have gone, and in truth, that was where we knew he had gone. We'd thought…we hoped you would kill him; it would have been more merciful. I do not expect you to understand; few people do. "
He does not understand, of course; he is not a Cicero. They do what they must, the Ciceros, and duty is a cold mistress. To them falls the guardianship of the planet, to them the thankless task of patching together everything that full-grown children tear apart. It is the Ciceros, throughout the centuries, who stand aside and let all that they love be stolen and smashed in order to protect all that everyone else loves. They loved you and they could not protect you; it was that simple. They couldn't protect Rose either; they owned (still own) the biggest pharmaceutical drug company on their planet, and the biggest chain of hospitals as well, and they lost her to a rare disease that none of their best could cure. That's what it means to be a Cicero: the powerful powerless.
"Ms. Rose? If you have had enough time?" the voice is female, and unfamiliar.
"I have." She replies to a golden transformer that dwarfs even you. Instinctively, you and Depth Charge both fall to one knee. Depth Charge's companion and Rose remain standing.
"What shall I do with you?" she asks you, "The souls that would have me damn you are no small number, child of darkness. Many are the ghosts of Omicron that demand I deliver you to their vengeance. And yet…the one you call Transmutate remembers only one other who offered her friendship. And such as Rose would spare you. What would you have of me?"
Trying to watch what is going on up there when you've got everyone and their brother trying to examine the machinery is an interesting experience. I mean, I'm glad they're more interested in lookin' around than leavin', but still, this is nuts. The kids are having a blast with my remote control Enterprise, so I keep having to duck cause they can't remember that not all of us are that short, and the adults are if anything worse. I brought my knife collection along to train with, and they found both it and the in-ship dojo. If they would at least close the door like you're supposed to…
The Nemesis is still hovering in the air, but I think that's Optimus trying to crash into it. Good, keep stalling him. I'm running a scan on her systems as best I can, which is easy in the sense that The Nemesis does not have a computer security system that comes anywhere close to being useful against more modern hackers, and near impossible in that I have to keep shielding the control panel from The Enterprise and some of my best daggers. Soon as it's done, I'll send a messenger along to Kit with the info, so if The Nemesis does get to Cybertron, our hackers there can bring it down in short order.
You know, I really should get dinner going while I'm at it. I think I'll start us all off with some good wine; I'll just have to make sure that the one glass I don't drug is mine. Maybe I should have done that with Megatron in the first place, offered him a toast to his victory with a glass of laced energon. Course, if he hadn't given Jack's spark to his sidekick, that's the first thing I would have done. Well, I wouldn't have offered a toast, slipped it in more like. But still, it would have worked. Right, there's the scan done, so let me send that…
"Captain's log, startdate something or other: Megatron may be stopping by Cybertron with the Decepticon warship Nemesis. Enclosed are her blueprints, security codes, and a whole bunch of other useful stuff. I'll be with you shortly. Ace out."
I stuff the message and info into a small metal sparrow and throw it out the door. She'll send the message to Kit as soon as she gets through that transwarp, so unless Megs can get the Nemesis out of here in less than five minutes…Personally, I'm counting on at least five minutes for the classic "you're-so-pathetic-how-could-you-ever-hope-to-beat-me-and-by-the-way-here's-my-plan" speech, followed by another five for the "while-friendship-love-and-brotherhood-survive-you'll-never-win-and-by-the-way-you're-insane" speech. And that's just for Tyrant-a-sorry Wreck to get out of here. By the time he gets to Cybertron, The Nemesis should already be on its way to incapacitation. Nothing left to do here but watch the show…and careful where you're throwing that!
What would you have of her? Stupid question, really, to ask one whose opinion has never been asked, who knows nothing apart from Hell, and Heaven denied, to ask for. What does she even by it? If you ask for mercy, for an eternity with the ones you don't deserve, will she actually consider it? Or is she simply toying with you, drawing out the inevitable? Fear paralyzes you, and you answer not at all rather than answer wrong.
"And you?" she asks Depth Charge, "What would you have of me?"
"For myself, nothing," he replies, "For Omicron, justice."
She voices what you yourself have long wanted to scream.
"Omicron had its justice a long time ago, and you have avenged her as you wanted. How long will you carry this grudge, child? It can have no place in The Matrix."
He growls but he does not answer. You do not speak. Rose looks as calm as the grave. The golden one breaks the silence.
"If I remand him to the harshest court and judge known to mortals," she asks Depth Charge, "though not for eternity, will you be satisfied?"
Clearly thinking this will be better than nothing at all, he nods.
"And you," she asks, "If I grant you companions to sustain you, to ease your burden, will you be satisfied?"
"Enough to thank you for it daily," you reply.
She smiles, "Very well, so let it be done. Ms. Rose, if you will seal our agreement?"
And for the second time, Rose helps you to your feet. From her chest, she takes a small silver star, and offers it to you.
"Be whole; be healed." She tells you, and you press it into your chest, where it burns beautifully. You press her to your chest, one last embrace before…as darkness claims you, you hear the golden one but distantly, "…with him, to heal, to guard…"
Well there goes The Nemesis. No idea what happened, but she aint recoverin' from that anytime soon. As soon as the scanners say they're all gone I'll get out of here. Well, as soon as the scanners say they're gone and I can pick up enough of Jack and Depth Charge to put together a decent funeral. With any luck, that'll force Jack's ghost to use at least more than one hand to count the times he's been treated as a person. Don't mind me; I get bitter about things like this, especially when I can't stop them from happening. I shouldn't even be complaining, really; I think this will make the five hundredth person Elf has had to stand by and let die. I'm one of her few success stories in that department. Maybe that's why she likes managing the household "not security" for the Ciceros; as long as there's an actual attacker in front of her, she pretty much never loses.
I launch another messenger to inform Kit about the change of plans. Chip returns, and I put him to work entertaining the little ones so I can reclaim The Enterprise. He's dead, Ace. The boss won't be happy, but he'll accept it; why can't you? And why can't you be happy that the best of all possible worlds (to the best of all possible knowledge) is now safe and secure? Maximals win, Megaloon will be in the brink soon enough, humans will still be around when you get back, and we're all happy, right? Besides, exactly how were you expecting this to turn out alright? You can't even figure out who's the monster in this story, cause who's sprawled out with their innards all over the place and who's holding the sharp pointy object all depends on what part you were reading!
There's the scanners. Takes forever to get everyone off, and I pretty much have to shut everything down to convince them that the circus is over. A few little ones make a last desperate search for Chip, but their Mums have them in tow soon enough. Me being in no hurry, I put the knives away and make sure I've got them all. Come to think of it, maybe I should check the wreckage of the DarkSyde for a few additions to the collection. I might be needing a spare energon blade soon enough. Then again, buying one would be easier than moving all that metal. Of course, moving all that metal will be easier than telling Aurelius what happened.
Alright, enough of the whining. The job's not going to get easier by postponing it; and I'm worrying The Boss (and Elf) all the more by delaying. Cheron takes to the sky with the ease of a gull, and the words of my favorite songs come unbidden from my lips. You can't take the sky from me.
You would scream, but you cannot breathe. The cold is worse than Omicron; opening your eyes is Megatron and that thrice cursed box of his all over again. And she lied; there is no one here. You have been sentenced to all eternity in perpetual pain with no one-
Something slides beneath you, carrying you upwards. Another flash of pain in your eyes and it is over-you can breathe. You try to speak, to ask, but "Who" is all you can manage between coughs and gulps of air.
"Who do you think?" an all too familiar voice replies with an all too familiar irritation, "Now stay still and let me figure out how we're going to get out of here. I hope to Primus Optimus hasn't left…"
He has. You can't feel him or any of the others here, except, oddly enough, for Waspinator, who you would certainly never ask for help out of fear he might provide it. She on the other hand-
"Oy, need a lift?" Depth Charge soars upwards towards the sound of barely-contained euphoria. You cling to him, soaking wet and freezing, hoping she'll have someplace warm.
"Ace." He greets her with contained surprise as she helps you off of him.
"You know her?"
"Course we know each other; DC's famous in The Business." She replies, "If anything, you're the one I shouldn't recognize. They should have made you shorter, then I'd have at least have a change of clothes for you."
Clothes? It is only then that you realize that the hands she holds are flesh and yours. She smiles, and pulls a pocket mirror out of her pocket; the face that stares back is tired, pale, and very much human.
"Come on, mate," she says, "My pajamas are usually big on me; maybe those'll work until I can get you home. DC, how far am I taking you? Cybertron, or Earth? I think the boss can at least compensate you for your ship if you want to come that far."
"Please." He replies, "We have other things to talk about as well."
"I don't know how far I can come with you," you tell her, "I was sentenced to the harshest court and judge known to mortals; I don't know when they'll send for me."
She raises her eyebrows high into her Guinness-colored hair, "I wouldn't expect that summons in writing if I were you. The harshest court and judge known to mortals is one's own conscience."
Free. She has sentenced you to freedom, to life. To know what you have done, yes, but to know by experience. You will know what you have taken because you will have it. You will hurt but you will heal, and you will learn. The Matrix itself has granted you what your creators refused you: personhood. The next thing you know, you are waking, dry, warm, and only hours from home.
"Do you ever regret it?" I ask, entering the room whose window he is staring out of, at three o'clock in the morning.
"Accepting her offer?" he asks, as though he didn't know.
I nod.
"No." he is still looking out the window, "For all that it hurts worse than…I am whole now. I would not give that up." He turns to me, "Nor you."
"Thanks. By the way, you never did tell me what DC came over for this morning. Was it that top secret?"
He laughs (I love it when he laughs. His voice in general…) "No, he just came to check in on me like he always does."
"Yeah, except that he usually doesn't leave you that withdrawn for the next twelve hours." I point out, in case he thinks I haven't noticed how abnormal his silence is.
This time he pauses. "He told me, before he left, that I should stop holding myself responsible for what someone else had done. That he had killed the one responsible for Omicron and Starbase Rugby years ago at the bottom of the ocean, and that as far as he was concerned, that monster never…never left." He swallows and breathes, "I told him that his memory was faulty. That Rampage was killed by a peace officer who didn't notice when a sentient being was being tortured in the place he was supposed to be guarding, who failed that creature as badly as he failed everyone else in that place. That Rampage was killed by that officer and took him with him."
"Two of you callin' it a day, then?"
"I think so."
"Well, if that's that, can you go see Elf about getting some help? Cause DC told me on his way out that I have his permission to drug you if this keeps up."
"First thing in the morning." He replies, kissing my cheek and attempting to guide me back to a bed he clearly has no intention of returning to.
I stand my ground, "It is the morning, in case you haven't noticed."
"Three o'clock-
"Making it six over there. Elf is usually up by now. Pick up the phone."
He sighs, "Yes, Captain."
I swear I'm going to be his last victim.