Title: FP: Desirous of Everything (1/1)
Summary: In which Max isn't the only thing that strikes a chord in Zack's memory.
Characters: Zack, some Ben, Brin, Jondy.
Rating: R--sex, language, violence. Het with slivers of slash. Glimmers of not quite happy and healthy lifestyles.
Spoilers: Some Assembly Required
Disclaimer: Cameron and Eglee.
Date: Nov. 20-Dec. 3, 2001
Mary smelt like baked goods and spices and Adam always felt off balance around her as he did with no one else. Her stomach was soft, her breasts heavy, her face broad and kind and she looked at him with steady affection. She was standing at the kitchen counter, in front of the opened window. Adam could hear the steady thump of her paring knife as it slit through ripe fruit and hit down upon the cutting board.
"Scoundrel!" Mary said and slapped at Adam's hand with the flat of her knife.
Adam's body tensed briefly--but he wouldn't hit Mary, he didn't know who he had been that violence lay so close to the surface of his every action. "All part of my charm," Adam said and his fingers were wet with fresh strawberry. He popped the red, red slice into his mouth and--
"Oh. Oh, yeah. Look at that. Just look," the young man said and folded to his knees among the rows of plants growing close the ground. His bent head glowed gold in the sunlight and his smile was brilliant upon its long awaited return. "Zack. C'mon."
"Ben," he said and knelt beside the other boy. "Don't gorge yourself."
An exasperated look was aimed in his direction. "Shut the fuck up and pick."
"Careful," he said, looking at the stained bandage wound about Ben's hand. "Don't pull your stitches."
"I won't if you get your ass in gear and start working."
He cuffed him gently on the back of his head. "Hey," he warned but he was warm and sleepy and he was surrounded by the scent of soil and strawberries and couldn't force an edge to his voice. He carefully tugged at one of the berries. It gave way beneath his teeth, sour but juicy and fresh and it had been far too long since they'd eaten anything that wasn't simply meant to keep them alive.
"It's good," he said.
Ben was looking at him, eyes bright, face pinked. "Really. Good."
"Ben."
"Strawberry is a good colour for you," Ben said, laughed, looked away from Zack's mouth.
Zack licked at his wet lips. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Don't you want any?" Zack said.
Ben looked at him, wide-eyed innocence. "My stitches?"
Zack mock-scowled, but plucked another berry and held it out. Ben quirked his eyebrow, half-smiling and took hold of Zack's wrist with is uninjured hand. "Thanks," he said and leaned forward--
"Adam?" Mary said, too loud in her concern. Her face filled up the entirety of Adam's field of vision--he could see green flecks in the brown of her eyes. Slightly calloused hands patted at his cheeks. "You scared me!" Mary said when Adam's eyes twitched and focused. Mary stepped back, moved towards the sink. She snagged a cleaned glass from the washboard and filled it with cold water.
"What happened?" Adam asked. He could taste strawberry, warmth, and--no, no--he pressed his hands against his eyes and sucked in a wavering breath of air.
"You tell me," Mary said. "Stop that," she said and Adam lowered his hands from his stinging eyes. "Drink," Mary told him and pressed the tall glass of water into Adam's hands. "Drink," she said again and he did as she asked.
"I. I don't know. It was nothing," Adam said. The empty glass clanked down on the kitchen table Adam had slumped against. His hands were damp from the glass and Adam rubbed his palms against the thighs of his jeans. He straightened himself, weight balanced evenly on both feet, shoulders back, head up. "I should--"
"Don't lie to me," Mary said. "You had a. A flash. Didn't you?"
When he first arrived--back?--at the ranch, he had told Buddy and Mary of the wispy tatters of memory he sometimes caught hold of. They had explanations for almost everything. They had been nice explanations, simple and soothing and wrong. Buddy and Mary wouldn't lie to him--except they did and he didn't know how he knew: (posture, heartrate, breathing, scent--impossible, impossible to know that!)
Adam shrugged, the slow upwards drag of his right shoulder and release. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."
"Tell me."
"It was nothing. I can't remember," Adam said. He heard sound working its way to Mary's lips. "Leave it be, Mary." The whipcrack command startled them both, harsh and authoritative in a way Adam wasn't. Mary fell back a step, eyes wide. Adam wheeled around, leaving Mary behind in the kitchen. He didn't have time for this. He had work to do.
...~*~...
Blunt fingertips had worked their way beneath hair and the collar of Adam's shirt. He rubbed at the nape of his neck absently as he titled his bottle of beer and peered into the minute amount of liquid sloshing around at the bottle's base. The bar was too crowded, too noisy, too smoke filled. Pressure was building against Adam's temples, at the back of his eyes.
Adam risked a covert glance in the direction of the bar. He had been here dozens of times, he knew this place and the people who frequented it. And yet, he had looked behind the bar and for a moment the scent, sight, sound of everything had shifted and he had been looking at a sharp smile and predatory eyes that had shattered to reveal Tess' pouting mouth and smoky blue gaze. Adam fought back a wince at that thought.
Jack's elbow nudged at Adam's ribs. His eyebrows lifted and he nodded his head in the direction of the bar. "Tess is on the prowl," Jack said and flashed his nicotine stained smile at Adam.
Adam drained the rest of his beer. "Gotta go," he said.
"Wouldn't see me running if _that_ were headed my way," Jack said.
"Fuck off," Adam said and meant it. He felt like he was smothering in this place--everything was too small, meaningless, and Adam somehow couldn't care about this place and these people when a dull sense of urgency twisted in the back of his mind.
"Adam," Tess said, her voice liquid. She had slipped up beside Adam as he rose from his seat.
"Tess," Jack said from the table.
Tess flickered a glance in Jack's direction. "Jack."
Adam shook Tess' hand from his arm.
"You're leaving already?" Tess asked. "You hardly just got here."
"Headache," Adam said shortly. He heard Jack's amused snort and resisted the impulse to turn and smash his fist into the older man's already crooked nose.
"I could help you with that," Tess said and she didn't keep her glare in check when Jack's reaction made itself known to them once more.
"I don't think so," Adam said.
She smiled, looking up at Adam from beneath her lashes. "Try me--
you son of a bitch! Don't think I won't kick your ass if you don't back the fuck off--right--now!"--
"Shit!" Tess breathed, catching at both of Adam's arms. "You really aren't feeling well."
"Adam," Jack said. "I."
"Shut up," Adam said. "I'm fine."
The pickup was parked in the front. Adam fumbled for his keys, pulling them from the pocket of his jeans even as the soft shuffle of Tess' flats marked her approached. She stopped just behind to the right of Adam and cleared her throat tentatively. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"You didn't," Adam said and fitted the keys into the lock. He twisted sharply and the click of the door opening was impossibly loud.
"Sure. Right," Tess said. He could see Tess' reflection in the door's window. She smiled when she said, "you're cute when you're flustered."
"Tess."
"You're lonely."
"I'm leaving," Adam said and folded himself behind the steering wheel.
"I don't know about the rest of it, but I understand lonely," Tess said.
You can't, Adam thought, and the thought felt ancient--
You aren't the only one, Zack. Stop acting as if you are.--
"Get in," Adam said and reached to open the passenger-side door.
...~*~...
Age-softened cotton shifting to reveal a slice of cocoa coloured skin--
Muscled shoulders, back--
Blond curls spilled out around a flushed face--
Scrape of stubble along his chest--
Rounded hips in the curve of his palms--
Spit-come-slick smile--
You're hurting me!--
I won't break--
A barcode--
A barcode--
A barcode--
Regret--
Tess came out of the bedroom, knotting the sash of her robe. The slap of her bare feet against the floor came to a sudden halt as she caught sight of Adam in the kitchen. "You're still here," she said, surprised, oddly vulnerable with her naked face and feet and threadbare robe.
"You sound surprised," Adam said. He had slipped from bed in the heavy darkness, had dressed and paused at the front door, his coat in place, keys in hand. It had been more instinct that conscious decision and the weight of those silent departures in the night he felt more than remembered had choked him. "Coffee?" Adam offered and poured himself another cup.
"Yeah. Yeah," Tess murmured and padded into the kitchen. She looked at Adam from beneath lowered lashes. "Coffee is good," she said when Adam slid a mug into her waiting hands.
"Right," Adam said.
"You didn't have to."
"I wanted to."
"I didn't expect you to," Tess said.
"Neither did I."
"I," Tess said, stopped and took a cautious sip of her coffee. "I'm glad you stayed."
I don't run away, Adam thought. I don't. "So am I," Adam said. He took another sip of his coffee and hardly had time to note the burn in his mouth and throat before his body muted the hot liquid's effects.
Tess had regrouped and she had been teasing, curving mouth wicked, by the time they left the table. Adam felt a swell of emotion towards her. He held the memory of memory of carefully constructed smiles and acts and touches that might have meant something or nothing at all.--
Jondy was pretty, sun and leaves overhead making wavering patterns of light and dark across her body. Zack had never thought of Jondy as pretty--sleek, powerful, dangerous--and reality had been spun around so that Jondy was in a fuzzy cotton-candy pink sweater and pleated skirt.
"You can come with me," Zack said.
Jondy's hair had been brushed until it floated in soft wisps around her face. Her smile was the same--sharp teeth and knowledge. "You don't approve," she said and sounded almost amused.
"That doesn't matter. I'm just saying."
"I've lived on the streets, Zack. I've been through the system."
"I know," Zack said and he had thought he was saving them.
"If it weren't for Andrew," Jondy shrugged, but there was nothing casual in her voice, "I'd be eating out of dumpsters, stealing, maybe killing for money, whoring myself if I had to. It's warm here. Good food. Nice clothes. So Andrew likes to look at pretty girls. Let him."
"Jondy," and there really wasn't anything to say.
"You know how it works, Zack. You know. You can't possibly not."
"You have my number. If you need me."
Jondy's eyes softened as much as they were able to. "Zack. Tell me Zack: am I pretty?" Jondy asked with unexpected whimsy. Her skirt fluttered around her thighs as she swirled.--
The top of Tess' robe had gapped open. Adam kept his eyes on her face as she approached. "I need to get back."
"I figured," Tess said. "Hey. Hey, Adam," she said and pressed her hand against his biceps. "I'm here. When you're lonely."
"You're a good person," Adam said and remembered his distaste of her at the bar, Jack's leer, how she had clung to him in her sleep.
"Not hardly," Tess said, smiled and looked away.
"Better than me."
...~*~...
"Get outta here!" Buddy roared. He tumbled from the pickup before it shuddered to a halt. His face was red with anger, his breaths short. "I warned you!" he screamed when the ragged group of men and women merely looked at him before turning back towards the cattle they had killed--
Brin was shaking. Zack could hear her body striking the alley's graffiti covered walls. He didn't have to look back at her to know what he would find. Zack knew that Brin's fists would be clenched, her teeth tight against her lower lip. She wouldn't cry out, wouldn't move at all if she could manage to hold her pain to herself.
He didn't have time to bother playing with the door's lock. Zack drew back his booted foot and smashed it into the door. The lock gave way and the door flung inwards on squealing hinges. Zack turned back towards Brin. Her eyes were huge in her too-thin face. The force of her seizures had brought Brin to her knees. She sat propped up against the wall, shaking among the piled garbage.
"You're okay," Zack said. He fitted his arm around Brin and pulled her to her feet.
"I know," Brin said.
There were cartons of milk in the small grocery store. Zack snagged one, opened it and pressed it into Brin's trembling hands. Milk sloshed and spilled as Brin raised the carton, but Zack made no more effort to help her. Brin wouldn't want him to. He knew she was already smarting because he had witnessed this loss of control.--
Tom lifted his rifle. "Only one thing they understand," he said. "Buddy?"
"Give 'em something to think about, Tom," Buddy said.
Tom fired a shot above the dirty, matted heads of the people before them.
The shot echoed through Adam's head. His hands shifted against his own weapon. It felt familiar--more comfortable than Tess' flesh in his hand, more right than the equipment he worked with on the ranch. The weapon felt like an extension of himself.--
"Hey!" a man's startled, angry voice cried out. "What the hell do you think you're doing!"
Zack landed a hard blow across the back of the man's shoulders before he could take another step towards Brin. He struck out again and the older man toppled to the tiled floor. His blunt fingers scrambled across the man's neck in search of a pulse.--
Adam's gun swung into position, he aimed and fired before the dirty young man who had held his ground managed to fire off his own shot. The other jerked back a step, stared down at his bloodstained shoulder incredulously. His wild eyes slammed into Adam's--widened and he wheeled and ran.
Impossible. Impossible, Adam thought, but the mark on the nape of the boy's neck had burned itself into his mind.
Tom whistled, long and low. "Nice shot there, Adam," he said and his open palm slapped against Adam's shoulder-blade. "Fast moving bugger, isn't he?"
"Damn it," Buddy said, voice rough. "Third time this month."
"Want us to go after 'em?" Tom asked.
"No," Adam said, sharp.
Buddy looked at him. "Leave 'em be," he said slowly. He waited until the others had advanced into the field. "That was good work, Adam," Buddy said and clapped him on the shoulder. His eyes were considering and his heavy hand flexed against the tense muscles in Adam's back.
Adam swallowed and blinked--banishing the image of the small (impossible! impossible!) figures in the distance. "If I asked," Adam said, "would you tell me I'm a killer?"
"You didn't kill that boy," Buddy said.
"That's not what I meant. You know that's not what I meant," Adam said and shook off Buddy's testing hand. His body remembered, and Adam's hands were knowing against the gun he still held. "You don't have to tell me. I know. I know, Buddy."
"You're tired," Buddy said, dismissive.
I'm not, Adam thought. I don't sleep--not like you, not like the others.--
"Me? I'm scared of the dark. Everyone is asleep, and its quiet and I'm all alone with my own thoughts. Terrifying, that."--
"Tired? Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am," Adam said.
"Go on home," Buddy said.
"Okay. Home. Right," Adam said.
...~*~...
Adam's hands didn't shake. He stood with his back to the bathroom mirror, a hand-mirror in hand. He drew in a long breath and brushed hair from the nape of his neck. The dark bands of a barcode were an accusation against his skin.
He had wanted to know. He had. Because there was nothing worse that not knowing, not being in control. He'd wanted to know.
God. God, what was this? What did this mean? Who was he? What was he?
"X5-599," he said, soft, uncertain, and the mirror dropped from suddenly trembling hands.
~end~