Memory from Shadow: PHANTOM
Blake stared sadly towards Adam from the next train car. The bull faunus could do nothing but watch his oldest friend draw her sword and look away from him for a brief moment. "Goodbye," she had said. The blade fell, and the train cars were separated. He could have made the jump to stop her. He wanted nothing more than to stop her from leaving. She believed in their cause. She always believed. The problem was...
Adam bolted awake. It was that dream again. It was less of a dream and more of a memory, but it always came to him in his sleep. He would awaken in a cold sweat, longing for the deep feeling of regret to leave his body. He remembered that day very clearly. He wanted to forget the sad look in Blake's eyes, the sorrowful sound that had escaped her lips, and the grinding sound of metal on metal when the blade sliced the couplings. Goodbye, she had said.
Always he remembered. He lived everyday telling his comrades that she was a traitor. A handful of White Fang agents were constantly on the hunt for Blake, as per orders from the higher ups. Adam knew better. They would never find her. No, she would remain in hiding for as long as she wanted to be hidden. She could walk right by White Fang agents on a daily basis and none of them would know it was her. That was one of her many talents: stealth, even when stealth wasn't possible. Adam taught her that. He was very proud of her for that. He also felt guilty for teaching it to her.
He raised himself from his bed; it was midnight. Standing, he approached a nearby dresser with a mirror attached to it, flipping a lamp on in the process. His red hair was a mess from his frantic tossing in his sleep, and dark circles were forming beneath his red eyes; insomnia had taken him completely over ever since Blake left. Most of the other White Fang members thought that he just worked late; none of them suspected that his own body was destroying his health.
He stared blankly at himself in the reflection, willing himself once again to forget about Blake. He slapped himself gently, as if motivating his mind, before he ran his hands down his face slowly as he felt the fatigue wash over him. That was when he saw it in the mirror. It always came with the memories and the dreams. He became aware of it almost immediately after the first week without Blake. It was his personal ghost, haunting his footsteps and reminding him of what he wanted to forget.
He turned to meet its gaze. "Hello again," he said to it.
The Phantom of Blake stood before him. It wasn't real; he knew that. It was his mind projecting Blake's likeness into his vision. None but Adam could see or hear the apparition. In the six months since Blake left, this Phantom had been Adam's constant companion. He never told anyone about it; he already knew that he was going insane, and he didn't want others to find out.
"When do you plan on leaving me alone?" he asked the Phantom.
It smiled sadly at him. "I'm already gone, Adam. You know that."
Adam's face became a hard mask of anger. "Why won't you leave me alone, then?" The Phantom simply stared back at him, smiling sadly. This was the worst part to Adam. Sometimes it would reply to him; most times it would just stare and watch and listen and follow. It never seemed to leave his side, even when it was actually gone.
But there was a deep part of him that wanted it to stay. It looked like Blake, it sounded like Blake, and even though it wasn't really there it felt like Blake. The Phantom knew that he secretly wanted it to stay; it was derived from his own mind, after all. "I'm always gone," it said at long last. "You just can't cope with that."
"Why did you leave?" he asked, trying not to sound frantic.
"I'm sorry," it answered.
"Why couldn't you just tell me what was wrong?"
"I'm sorry."
"I was your partner! You're supposed to trust me!"
"I'm sorry."
"Stop saying that! God damn it~!" he yelled, throwing an empty glass that was sitting on the dresser at the Phantom. The glass hit the wall behind it, shattering into pieces.
"Goodbye," it said, and Adam's heart skipped a beat.
"Mister Adam!" someone yelled from his door. "Are you alright?"
Adam spared a glance to his door before looking back at the Phantom; it was gone. Goodbye, it had said, echoing eerily in his mind. Adam rubbed his eyes tiredly before approaching the door, careful not to step on the broken glass. He opened it and peered outside. "Hm?" he asked.
"Mister Adam," a young White Fang agent said, looking relieved. Adam didn't know his name; he must be new. He was wearing the uniform of the average White Fang member, including the mask that Adam had included to the attire. His hood, however, was down. "Are you okay? I heard shouting, and then something shattered."
"I'm fine," Adam said quickly. "I'm...just getting frustrated with my work is all. I lost my temper. I'm fine, though."
The young man sighed and bowed his head; Adam could see rabbit ears poking from behind the kid's mask. "We're grateful that you work so diligently, sir, but maybe you should rest?"
Adam put on a smile for the young man, appearing to be thankful for the care; truthfully, he was angry that no one but himself was suffering like this. "Thank you. I just might do that." Adam was about to close the door and say goodnight when he paused. "You're new, correct?"
"Yes, sir!"
"What's your name?"
"Scarlatina," he answered. "My name is Angel Scarlatina!"
"Well," Adam started. "Thank you, Angel, for your care. Good night."
"Good night, sir!" Angel replied as Adam shut the door. Exhausted, he leaned against the door limply, trying not to collapse on the floor of broken glass. Placing his hand over his face, Adam stared blankly in front of him; it was back.
"You look tired, Adam," the Phantom said, seated on his bed. It patted the pillow gently. "You should get some sleep."
"You know better than that," he whispered angrily, afraid that Angel might still be outside listening. "To sleep is to remember."
"You will never forget," it warned. "That was the price you had to pay when I left. Otherwise, you would never atone."
"Atone for what?" he asked.
The Phantom looked away shyly; just like the real Blake would in a situation like this. "You already know the answer, Adam. You only have to admit it."
Adam scoffed before he recovered a dust pan from a nearby closet. He cleaned up the broken glass before he laid down on the bed and closed his eyes. He put himself as far away from the Phantom as he could get, but he felt a warm sensation on his chest. Opening his eyes, he saw the Phantom sitting over him with its hand resting gently on his chest. "You're supposed to be gone," he whispered. "So why won't you stay away?" He rolled over.
The Phantom smiled. "The same reason you can't forget about me." It began to rub his back tenderly as he drifted off to sleep. He knew what that reason was. He hated to admit it, but for the first time he was going to admit it.
"Goodbye," she had said. The blade fell, and the train cars were separated. He could have made the jump to stop her. He wanted nothing more than to stop her from leaving. She believed in their cause. She always believed. The problem was...
The problem was that he was too stunned to do anything about it. He knew he had wronged her somehow and that she was disgusted by him; disgusted enough to abandon a cause that she had supported since she was a child. And he only just now realized how he had wronged her.
"What about the crew?" she had asked. Adam remembered his response all too clearly. She must have been mulling over the choice to leave for a long time. What he said to her that day was final weight that was placed on a scale, and the scale had finally tipped. "What about them?" he had asked. "Goodbye," she had said, and then the cars were separated, and Adam's shock prevented him from stopping her.
She was driven to help people. Back then, Adam thought that the only people who needed helping were the Faunus. Humans had the whole world. They were greedy, self serving, pretentious monsters. They lacked respect, even for each other, and they despised change and difference. However...
Maybe Adam had it wrong.
The Phantom smiled. He didn't see it, but he knew that it was smiling. "You're on the right track now, Adam," it said.
He forced his eyes closed, refusing to meet it's gaze. "But, you still left me," he answered angrily.
"I'm sorry," it replied. He heard those words every day. He despised them. But tonight, as he attempted to fall back asleep, he heard the words echo in his head again. Not in the Phantom's voice, though. He heard his own voice utter the words.
I'm sorry, he thought. I'm so sorry.
Author's Notes
The idea behind this story was simple: I know Adam is more likely than not going to be a bad guy in the actual series, but I like the concept that he might still be good in his own way. Much like how I treat Roman in TLN and Eternity Rising, this is my take on Adam after Blake leaves the White Fang. Here's what I actually thought of when I came up with the idea: Adam is a wreck after Blake leaves the White Fang. On the surface, he appears to everyone as a diligent agent who completes his work efficiently with the utmost skill, but Blake's departure has left a void in his life. Confused and searching within himself for answers, he is haunted both by feelings of regret and a Phantom of Blake that follows his every footstep. He's being haunted by a hallucination of Blake, essentially. He knows its not real, but he can't stop it...this is the kind of crap I think about while I'm at work.
Fun Fact: A random idea I had was "What if Velvet had a twin brother who joined the White Fang instead of going to school like she did?" Meet Angel Scarlatina. Where does his name come from? Well, there's only one rabbit I know of called Angel. I could be wrong about that, but if I'm not then feel free to google it. :D
I seem to like using insomnia in my stories. Maybe its because I myself don't usually sleep all that much. Bonus Fun Fact: I have had dark circles and lines on my face for the last 7 years because of my tendency to stay up late (intentionally or otherwise) and my early rising. While most people want cake or presents on their birthday, the only thing I've ever asked for these past few years is the chance to sleep a few extra hours. To me, that's the birthday party of champions. So, yeah, I use insomnia a lot in my stories. I write what I know, and I don't know sleep.
One more thing: I think that this is a one shot. I might turn it into a three part short story, but I don't know if I can. As such, stay tuned for the next chapters of Eternity Rising and The Final Stretch.
Till Next Time