"Gillian Anderson is one of the smartest,

Anderson sat as his desk, hardly able to keep his twitchy fingers still quite long enough to fill in his paper work, not when he had a code to solve. His code that he had been working out since day one, trying to solve this puzzle, then he would rest. The sets of Gaelic symbols and numbers in sets of four that meant this and that it was all very confusing. And all so ingenious. So much code and so many little letters and symbols. And they needed it, the villains, they needed it. But they didn't understand it, not the way he did.

Most foolhardy

And now he needed to destroy it, his code, his baby, his work for so long. He'd memorised it, all of it, they couldn't hurt him if he needed the code. He was the last remaining copy of it. His /was/ the last remaining copy, and now he had to break the rest. He held the titanium bat between his fingers, before he smashed his laptop, his precious, his everything. He shattered it, breaking it apart, until it was little more than a pile of splinters and spare parts on the floor. Good thing it was after hours, I suppose. He burnt his paper copies, and scrubbed his arms raw; to make sure every trace was gone.

Bravest

Anderson arrived at the building, his hands twitching in anticipation. He walked calmly though the halls, his chin high, his lips pursued. He knew they would not dare hurt him, they already knew he was the final copy of the code they so desperately needed, and as he walked toward they, toward his fate, and they would /make/ him cooperate. They had his best friend, Sally Donovan, and they would make him give them the code. As he walked, Anderson sent of a message to Lestrade, informing him of his choice to come and get Sally, by trading himself.

Most trustworthy

Sally knew he was coming. He would always save her. She watched as they door was thrown open. She looked up from the floor, at the pair of black dress shoes, scuffed. His pants cut to uniform length, his hands folded across his chest, facing her with a calm air. He was here. She threw herself around his ankles, trying to gain some kind of reaction from him. She received none. Just a cold stare of someone too far gone, all hope lost. His cold exterior cracked, and he pulled her up into a hug, his warm arms wrapped around her cold body. She held him tightly, while he shushed her, resting his face in her soft hair. That was when he told her good-bye, sat her back on the ground, brushed her hair out of her face, and stood tall, stood strong, and walked out.

Most unselfish

Anderson stood at the foot of the stairs, taking a deep breath. He'd gotten away, as best he could. He was safe, to a degree, but not for long. He was going to cooperate, they had decided, and kidnaped his best friend, Sally, to /make/ him cooperate with them. He did not want to. He was putting so, so many people in danger, even just standing here. He needed to die, to destroy the final copy of the code. And there are only so many ways to kill yourself, and the only one he had access to be the stairs. He couldn't help the small sob that escaped his lips. He texted Greg, the only person he felt compelled to say good bye to.

'Sorry. It's a thing that has to be done. –A'

He knew that Greg would track it, find him. Save Sally. Good. He faced the stairwell. He didn't want to die. He knew it was something he had to do. Destroy the remaining copy, save them. A second sob reverberated around the little enclave, it was all drawing to a close. He took a deep breath, squared his back, and raised his chin. He closed his eyes and let out a breath. With one last hand through his hair, he stood, arms by his sides, open handed.

He fell forward.

He crunched into the stairs, ribs first, shattering then, next his shoulder, dislocated, out of place, then, his head smashed into the stairs, splattering blood on his face, and the stairs, marking point of impact.

Greg had no idea what Anderson was on about. As the police car pulled up, he jumped from the vehicle before Dimmock could pull to a halt. As Dimmock stopped, he was already running inside the building, following the paramedics, and not stopping to talk to Sally as he passed her. He found himself screaming Anderson's name, trying to locate the scientist. To no avail. He sprinted all around, covering each room with a short look, still shouting his name.

He sprinted around until he lost his breath and had to walk. He continued to shout for his missing friend, and he saw the stairs. His eyes widened, dreading what he might see at the end of the stair well. And he was not disappointed. Anderson was lying still at the foot of the stirs, his limbs sprawled at awkward directions, his face down in a slowly growing pool of blood. His own blood. His skull was obviously fractured, his arm twisted in a way that arms were not meant ot be twisted. He jogged down the stairs, pulling Anderson up into his arms, being so careful that he didn't make anything worse.

"Co'om Anderson stay with me. " He whispered, placing his ear on Anderson's chest, trying to detect his faint heart beat. A wave of relief swept over him as he pulled Anderson close to him, trying to stop the bleeding. He cradled Anderson carefully, screaming for the medics, but refusing to ive up his grip on Anderson's hand.

Man I've ever known. That's why I'm never giving up on him."

Greg wondered if he didn't like it better when Gillian had his eyes shut. Gillian. That's what he called him now. Gillian. Gillian's brown eyes were indeed open, but, Greg liked it better when they were shut. Did that make him a bad person? Maybe. He'd stopped caring sometime after Sally gave up. She's given up on him. And so had Dimmock. And so had his sister. Even John had started to tell him it was a waste of his time. He knew it wasn't. Gillian would wake up soon. He always bounced back. Acid burns on his hands? Done. Hand in a blender? Yep. Shot? Sure. Why not. Anderson had /always/ bounced back. And there was no reason he wouldn't now. He looked at his what? His friend? His co worker? He decided on friend.

He did indeed like it better when Gillian's eyes were shut. When they were silent. Now, they were open. But they were vacant, like he wasn't really there. Sometimes, he would tilt his head toward you, his un seeing, unblinking, vacant eyes staring at you. Greg had spent countless hours smoothing his hair out of his face, and trying to get a response of some kind. He never did. Just a silence, and the occasional head tilt. Even now, as he faced him, telling him about what he was missing, while Gillian stared at him, he wished they'd shut. He stroked his fingers over his jaw, taking in his battered face. The bruises for falling were clear, but the thick bandages wrapped around his skull were a give away of why he was here.

They'd told him whatever had been done to his head would be permanent. They wouldn't know exactly Untill he woke up, but as he looked at the man before him, he knew it was a long way off. He touched the side of his face, bushing his hair re grown hair away from his face, running his finger over the slightly too wide jaw, and the a little bit big nose that made up Gillian's face, siging to him. "You stupid, stupid man." He told Gillian with a sigh. "Why couldn't you just have waited. I would have been there, in less than ten minutes." He sighed. "I feed Frank for you." He said next, referring to Anderson's gecko. "Little bugger." He said fondly. The stupid thing was growing on him. "I'll keeo them in my office, next!" He joked. He looked sadly down at Gillian. He was told to go, vistitng hours were over. He pressed a kiss to Gillian's hollow cheek, before he paused. "Almost forgot." He placed a large purple dinosaur on the bed next to him, and took his leave.

It was about a month later when Greg was called to come to the hospital. He'd been at work, and had to get Dimmock to cover foe him, as he /ran/ to the hospital, coming to see Anderson. As he rushed in, he saw Gillian surrounded by doctors, looking distressed. Greg butted his way in, rudely, and took Anderson's hand.

"Hey, Buddy." He said quietly, knowing Anderson wouldn't be able to speak to him. "It's me, Greg. I'll be taking care of you, okay?" he said, stroking some of Anderson's hair from his face. Anderson nodded his head slightly.

A/N: Introduction is D-O-N-E. Next chapter will be the prompt, but as for now, enjoy the prelude. Nearly 1,600 words, right here. Proud of myself. Everyone enjoy, kay?

Batty (if on tumblr0

Fenix (Of on .)