Disclaimer: I do not own Legion.
A/N: So this fic might seem to have sprung out of nowhere, but in truth, I saw this movie years ago and always had some idea I wanted to use for it. As I go through an enormous amount of doctor-stuff these next couple of weeks, I find I'm in great need of several distractions and sometimes inspiration hits me at the strangest of times. Don't fret! I'm still working on my other stories. I know I can be so aggravating by starting a bunch, but sometimes that's what I need to do. I'm not really sure if I will post more of this or not… it depends on if anyone reads it (and since there aren't that many people who read Legion fics, who knows?) I actually wasn't even going to post this, but I thought, why not?
Kyle and Audrey survived. Takes place after the movie's events.
Leave a review if you read.
ONE
Sarah closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of the cool, wet cloth pressed to her forehead. Leaning back in her stiff chair, she allowed herself a moment of reprieve. All around her there was movement—guards changing shifts, people shouting about rations and the sick room—the whole town was in a constant buzz since the strange events that had taken place not even a month ago.
Her eyes felt heavy and stung from lack of sleep. Sighing, she forced them back open, knowing she would fall asleep otherwise.
There, stretching out before her until it met the dark horizon stretched endless dunes and sands, the odd building wearing away here and there, receding away into the desert night. It used to be a scene of beauty for Sarah; something she had taken peace from, a sight which had restored her hopes and aspirations for better days. Now it only served to remind her of the interminable distance that lay between her small town and another civilization in this overturned world.
A gentle nudge at her shoulder caught her attention. Sarah pulled her eyes away from the dark landscape before her to look up at her brother, who stood grim and weary above her.
"Shift's over," he said. The usual life to his voice had drained away with the countless days they'd been stuck here, though she could see him try visibly to look hopeful. "You should go home and get some rest."
A small frown pulled at Sarah's lips. "Did you sleep any?"
Chance tousled a hand through his hair, choosing to look anywhere but down at his sister. "Doesn't matter. I've got work to do. Come on," he tried to offer her a small smile, "Move before the entire night passes by."
With a bit of hesitance, Sarah stood. She squeezed Chance's shoulder before tiredly trudging past him, her mind already shutting down and depending on autopilot.
Before she could reach the end of the makeshift wall of fortress, animated shouting pulled her back. Sarah stopped and turned on her heel, looking raptly for the source of excitement. In all the days they had been holed up in this small town, caring for those who were wise enough to stay and tending to their newly built fortress walls, nothing interesting had happened, excluding the single day when monsters had run loose. Wearing the faces of her neighbors, no less.
Men and women from the police force had gathered in a tightly packed group atop the roof Sarah stood on, pointing and shouting at one another. Following their gestures, Sarah's feet pulled her towards the edge little by little, her eyes catching sight of dust and sand being kicked up by a vehicle speeding towards the town hastily.
Her hands rested on the ledge, her eyes wide and disbelieving. She hadn't even noticed the officers ready their weapons until Chance had pushed her back behind them, focusing his own weapon on the small truck. Chance was a cop, and a damn good one at that. His sharp mind and ability to think quickly in dire situations landed him a role at the top in regards to the way the town now worked. He ordered his men to be ready to shoot, but hold until they received his word.
Sarah snapped forward like a recoiling string. "Chance," she said, her voice high from panic, "Chance, they could be human. They could be—"
"I know," Chance said easily. He didn't take his eyes from his scope. "But they could not be, too. Gimme a second. John?"
From a higher vantage point, and with a weapon with a longer range, stood a deputy and Chance's best friend. He was tight-lipped and somber. "Nothing yet."
"We hold until we're certain," Chance informed the group holding weapons. "We could use to hear some news about the outside."
"I've got a visual," John spoke up quickly. "I count five visible. One appears to be unconscious—she's being tended to in the bed of the truck. I don't think they're a problem, Chance. They're lookin' for help."
Chance pressed his lips together, thinking this over. "Fine," he said at last. "Open the gate. But don't take your eyes offa them. It could be a trap. We don't know who's been infected."
The faces surrounding Sarah were alert and fearful. Several people climbed down to the ground to open the gate and let the newcomers in. Sarah took one look at her brother before following them down, her curiosity controlling her steps.
There was more shouting as the truck rolled in past the reinforced gate erected at the main entrance and exit of the small town of Round Valley. The truck rattled and shook, appearing to be barely holding itself together. On the back of the truck stood three people—an African American man and an unconscious fair haired woman in the arms of a tall, broad shouldered man with intense eyes.
Guns were at ready, pointing at the newcomers with deadly accuracy, pressing them to exit their vehicle and stand to be scrutinized. Sarah stood back behind an officer, chewing her lip, absorbing the whole scene.
"I said get down!" one officer yelled, shoving his gun in the face of the tall man standing in back. Another man had emerged from the cab, his hair black, his jaw loose. A girl followed at his side with wide and red rimmed eyes; she couldn't have been a day over eighteen.
The taller man stared down at the gun, his jaw set. "She needs immediate help," he insisted, gesturing towards the blonde woman lying limp in his arms. The sound of a baby crying was like a freezing tidal wave hitting Sarah—she sprang forth.
Several hands tried to keep her back, but she pushed her way to the truck. "There's a baby?" She asked immediately, first looking to the tall man, then to the shorter dark haired one.
The latter nodded, grasping onto this sign of help like a life preserver. He stepped aside, revealing a blush-skinned baby in the arms of the young girl, crying and writhing in her grip.
Sarah approached immediately. The girl pulled back as if Sarah intended to hurt her.
"I just need a look," Sarah explained gently.
"You're a doctor?" The girl questioned with narrowed eyes, obviously in doubt due to Sarah's young age.
Sarah shook her head. "No. But I know what I'm doing."
The girl slowly acquiesced, relaxing her arms to allow Sarah to examine the baby. Ever so gently, Sarah rested her hand on the baby's forehead. She frowned and turned to look at an officer behind her.
"This baby needs medical attention," she said. No one moved. "Now!" she shouted, prompting a flurry of motion. The baby and the young girl were whisked off towards the sick room, and the dark haired man, who proclaimed himself as 'Jeep', insisted to accompany them. Armed guards escorted them down the street and out of sight.
Sarah started towards the unconscious woman. The black man stood over the other's shoulder, tense and ready to attack if Sarah made one wrong move.
"Get a doctor over here, stat," she murmured to a cop beside her, her eyes perusing the limp body before her. The broad-shouldered man who held her gripped her more tightly, holding her protectively against his chest. His eyes were intense, watching every move Sarah made. She glanced up at him, briefly surprised, before shaking away the moment and refocusing on the woman.
"How long has she been unconscious?" She asked quietly, checking the woman's pulse. It was faint, but throbbed.
"Hardly an hour," the man replied, his voice deep and gruff. There was some kind of accent there, but Sarah couldn't be distracted to take note. "She hasn't had decent food or water in days."
Sarah nodded slowly, deducing this. "She's burning up. Most likely dehydrated. A doctor will get her on an IV right away—that's the most that can be done until she wakes up and we can assess what she tells us."
There was a slight commotion behind Sarah before a doctor appeared at her shoulder with medics and a stretched in tow. He immediately took Sarah's place and started off the information she provided, inserting a needle into the woman's arm as she was slipped onto the stretcher. As she was being carried away, the tall man started after her. Officers filled the gap they had created to allow the doctor's exit, blocking him in, pointing their guns at him once more. Sarah stood at his side, surprised.
Chance appeared, his posture straight, his eyes hard and assessing. He regarded the man next to Sarah. "Your friend will be taken care of. You can see her when she's stabilized. For now, we've got some questions for you."
The way the man's jaw tightened allowed Sarah to realize that this wouldn't be welcomed. That was when she got her first good look at him. He had short, cropped blonde hair, looking very much like a military style. His shoulders were broad and build, tense as he faced the questioning gazes of the police officers. His hands were dirty, as were his clothes; there were two seeping lines of blood at his shoulder blades, where his tan shirt clung to his seemingly mangled skin. The other man, who had yet to speak, looked to be in the same condition, though wholly less energized by the animosity he was presented with.
"Chance," Sarah said quietly, looking to her brother. "They've obviously come a long way. Let's get them some food and water first. Then they can answer your questions."
Chance held his baby sister's gaze, looking every bit like he was prepared to veto this request. Then he nodded curtly. "You're right." He turned to John, who was standing at his side. "Take them to the house—I don't want a bunch of civilians getting worked up over their appearance. We'll decide what to do with them later."
John nodded. Unlike his good friend, he was more easily trusting, especially when the sight of obvious food and sleep-deprived people stood before him. He guided the remaining two newcomers towards an alleyway that would act as a shortcut, showing them he meant no harm.
Sarah had prepared to follow when her name was called, holding her back.
"Sarah," her brother said, tight lipped. "I don't think you should get involved in this. Stay at Lacy's tonight, okay? She won't mind."
Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but Chance wouldn't have it. "Go on," he urged. "Get some rest. I'll tell you what's happened in the morning."
Lacy's apartment was surprisingly cozy, even with all that had happened. Sarah wasn't shocked, though—Lacy kept her rooms like it was a museum. She had accepted Sarah with open arms as she had for years. Lacy was Sarah's best friend since early childhood, so they were used to surprise sleepovers.
"Here," Lacy said, tossing a pair of blue shorts at Sarah. "Those'll fit you. Why didn't Chance let you pack anything?"
Sarah's eyes were glued to the window, watching people move to and fro outside, talking about the newcomers in hushed tones. "He's being overprotective, as usual."
Lacy followed her gaze and approached the window, leaning close to it to catch some words. "Is this about what's going on? Some people showed up?"
"Yeah," Sarah said pensively.
"What's their story? I mean, how can we be sure they haven't been infected?" Lacy's questions were more directed at the air than Sarah. After several moments of silence, the girls locked eyes, sharing conspiratorial looks.
Lacy grinned devilishly. "I guess there's only one way to find out."
Sarah slowly returned the smile. "Chance will kill us if he finds out."
"Has that ever stopped us before?"
Ten minutes later, the girls were clad in all black, slinking along an alleyway, latching onto every shadow they could disappear in. The town was usually quiet at this time with only the rare guard passing by here and there. Tonight, all seemed in shambles. On their way to Chance's house, Sarah spotted several distinguished members of the community heading frenetically towards Town Hall.
"Jeez," Lacy whispered. "You'd think it was the zombie apocalypse or something."
Sarah rolled her eyes at her friend's typical sarcastic comment. The backpack thrown over her shoulder bounced with her movement; Lacy had suggested that Sarah pick up some of her things while they were there, considering they didn't know how long she was kicked out of her own home for.
"Hit the floor!" Lacy shouted, jumping and tackling her best friend to the hard ground. Sarah was about to shout at her friend's antics when a pair of boots passed by their faces and they held their breath. She and Lacy were barely concealed behind a bush. The feet paced back and forth before a cigarette was flicked to the ground, dying out quickly. The guard walked away slowly after that, allowing the two girls to sit up on their knees and laugh.
"That was close," Sarah said.
Lacy looked up. "We're here."
Sarah, too, looked up to find her house mostly lit up. The front porch lights were golden and dim in the night. Squares of lights cut through the darkness as windows, their sheer curtains blocking any sort of clear view into the house. They could hear low voices, but the words were muffled.
"Check the backyard," Sarah instructed, glancing at her friend. "Try to figure out where Chance is keeping them."
"What are you going to do?"
Sarah held up a strap of the backpack. "I'm gonna get some of my things."
Lacy nodded and disappeared into the dark, leaving Sarah behind in the shadows. Sarah sucked in a breath of warm air before quietly and carefully approaching a side of the house. She breathed out in relief upon finding the window to her room dark. It would be safe to climb in.
Planting her feet in the mulch beneath the window, she braced her arms and pushed up with all her strength. Since she had accidently broken the frame when she was thirteen, it rarely ever opened easily. The bottom slid up little by little, and before she knew it, the window was open wide enough for her to slip inside.
Hand on railing, lift up knee, jump over bookcase, land quietly on carpet. Years of sneaking out without her brother noticing had allowed her to perfect the technique. She landed inside without a sound.
Straightening, she gave herself several seconds to adjust to the lack of light in the room. Once a lighter gray-scale had settled in, she headed straight for her closet and began throwing clothes in her backpack. It was only when she turned around to grab something off her nightstand that she noticed the figure on the bed, sitting upright, facing her.
Sarah jumped three feet in the air, falling back against the wall of clothes. Her hand flew up to cover the scream bubbling inside of her mouth and her eyes had flown wide-open. Without thinking further, she squirmed to turn on the lamp beside her.
"I didn't mean to frighten you."
It was the tall blonde haired man from earlier. There he sat on her bed, looking entirely out of place and even a little uncomfortable. Sarah opened and closed her mouth several times before hissing, "Do you usually watch girls in the dark, or is that a new hobby?"
He raised an eyebrow, dark eyes searching her face. "You're not supposed to be here."
Just like that, she remembered that Chance and several other officers were only down the hall. "No," she said under her breath. She looked him over. His eyes seemed even wearier than earlier. "What are you doing here?"
"They offered me a place to rest," he said simply.
Sarah clamped her mouth shut, her face flushing a bright red. She looked at floor abashedly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Of course they'd let him rest. She had requested it, after all.
"I'm sorry," she said genuinely. "That was rude of me. I was just grabbing some things I needed."
The man's eyebrow raised a millimeter higher. "You don't need to apologize," he said. "It appears I'm the one intruding."
"No—not at all," Sarah insisted. "I've got somewhere else to stay. Besides, it looks like you've had it rough." And it did. Sweat had dried on his forehead, plastering his short light hair to his skin. It was only then that Sarah realized he was shirtless.
Strange symbols trailed over his skin, covering his entire bare chest, the length of his arms, wrapping upwards to his collarbones. Sarah couldn't make out the strange runic alphabet and wondered curiously what part of the world he was from to have such a strange language.
She had shifted and had a view of his profile, catching sight of the mangled flesh she had seen earlier. Her heart dropped to her stomach and she could feel it roll again and again in her belly. There was a haphazard attempt at stitching the torn skin at his shoulder blades back together, leaving it messy and rendering it in danger of becoming septic. She was rooted in place.
"Has anyone looked at that?"
The man seemed confused until he realized she was speaking of his wounds. "There are more important things," he shrugged it off.
"Not if it becomes infected," Sarah said, stooping down to grab the first aid kit she kept in the back of her closet. She balanced it in her palms, worrying her lip between her teeth as she looked at him. "An infection could go straight to your chest—your heart. It needs to be cleaned."
"You said you weren't a doctor," he pointed out quietly, though his gaze was intense.
Sarah's face reddened again. "I'm not. But I know what I'm doing."
He studied her a few seconds longer before relenting. Sarah sat gingerly on the edge of her bed, gesturing for him to face away from her so she would have clear access. A moment of awe provoked her to run her fingers just between his shoulders, over the strange script, the hard muscle.
"What does this mean?" she asked quietly as she began appraising the stitches.
A moment passed before he answered. Sarah had to strain to hear him. "Abandonment."
Abandonment? Did he mean the wounds or the tattoos? Decidedly moving on to a less sore subject, Sarah asked, "Where are you from?"
Again, the man paused. "I came here from Paradise Falls."
She grabbed a pair of tweezers, frowning down at the flesh. "The stitches need to be removed and redone. This might hurt a little."
He nodded, his muscles tensing.
"Paradise Falls, huh?" She continued absently. Sarah didn't like silence, especially when a stranger was present. Silence offered her too many moments to reflect on things. "Is that far from here?"
He grunted as the cold metal danced over his skin. "Very."
The slashes were strange, she thought to herself. They were equal in length, curving inwards, long and deep. "What did this to you?" He remained silent. Sarah hastened to make up for her bluntness. "Sorry—you don't need to answer that. I tend to be overly curious." She pressed her lips together and carefully pulled another stitch free.
"It was self-inflicted," he said finally, though Sarah had not the slightest idea why he would answer her. He sounded sad and grievous. "My skill with medical instruments only goes so far. I couldn't repair it well enough myself."
Sarah froze, her hand hovering over his hot skin. She had stopped breathing as nausea rolled over her. "You did this to yourself?" The cuts were so deep, stretched out. How could someone manage this?
As if reading her mind, he said, "Some things are necessary in order to move forward."
"But not hurting yourself," Sarah said with more passion than she realized. She lowered her voice, her frown deep. The man glanced over his shoulder at her, absorbing her features raptly. "Punishing yourself isn't the way. Trust me. I know."
His expression was unreadable. His intense eyes made her squirm under their weight. "What are you punishing yourself for?"
Sarah looked back down at her task, biting her lip. "I drove my parents away from my brother and me. Hurting myself never made things better—it just made them worse."
He studied her still. "Your parents will forgive you," he said with strange conviction. Sarah met his eyes, smiling sadly. "You don't know them. It's not that easy."
"It's not meant to be easy."
Her hand faltered at the look in his eyes, the tweezers falling to the bed. There was so much pain there, so much sadness and hope it was heartbreaking. Their gazes lock, his strong and captivating, hers awed and poignant. Who was this man? She wondered to herself. She had never seen someone appear so burdened before.
The moment broke and Sarah sought out the tweezers once more, pulling at the last of the stitches in the second wound. She stared studiously at his back, only forced to speak because of the silence that had fallen in the room once more.
"What's your name?"
His shoulders relaxed as she put the tweezers away and grabbed out cleaning wipes. "Michael."
"Michael," she repeated, testing it out. "I'm Sarah."
Sarah finished the task trading pointless small talk with Michael, careful to avoid any subjects that would prevent him from finding some rest that night. Fifteen more minutes had passed before Lacy was tapping at the window, beckoning to Sarah. After ensuring the new stitches were comfortable, she left Michael to rest, and headed back to Lacy's apartment as quietly as they could.
"Did I see a man in your bedroom?" Lacy questioned immediately upon entering the safe haven of her apartment, her eyebrow quirking at the implied innuendo.
Sarah groaned and rolled her eyes. "He came with the others."
"What was he doing in your room?"
"He needed a place to stay for the night," Sarah explained, "and Chance didn't want to put them in general housing. It'd cause too many problems."
Lacy hid her smirk. "Right."
Smacking her friend, Sarah retorted, "Only you would take things that way when the world is ending."
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