Title: Fury
Rated for: Language,
Genre: Angst, Romance, Adventure
Fandom/Universe: Blade Trinity
Characters: HannibalKing, Abigail Whistler, Nightstalker OC's,
Pairings: King/OC
Spoilers/Warning: None yet.
Disclaimer: Blade and all related characters are copyright Marvel Comics and I'm guessing New Line Cinema. No infringement intended.
Status: Re-written. just felt it was not my best writing. I hope this works better for those of you who have read it and do expect there to be new chapters added. I am expanding on this fic.
Chapter 2 :Run Away…
Forgotten thoughts of yesterday, through my eyes I see the past,
I don't know why I believe the truth form inside,
Go away, go away from me…
She sits up trying to control her crying but nothing she does stops the wrenching sobs. Hot tears course down her cheeks, she covers her face and her body shakes. She dreams of them almost every night; their faces sometimes condemn her- hateful and at other times, rarely do they forgive.
She feels it, the slow trickle from her nose and touches a finger to it. She bleeds… more and she tries to make it stop, wipes at her nose with a shaky hand. It won't stop and she's afraid of what will happen. It'll start and then she won't be able to control it, hasn't learned to and never cared. There wasn't any need because she's been alone, no one she has to care for.
She feels the lightest amount of heat, sees the bed begin to smolder- tendrils of white smoke rising off the sheets and only stares.
Her brow furrows in confusion and she focuses on where she is, but it isn't her bed… she looks around, at the spartan furnishings in the unfamiliar room-nothing is hers.
They stand at her bedside, all four of them as the fire bursts to life and the flames lick at her body.
"No! No! NO!" she screams and the fire rides the ceiling, billowing like tiny herds of horses and they can't get out. They are trapped and once more she is at fault, can't help them…
Flames weave through her hair, feather light caresses while the sheets are consumed and the bed continues to burn. It's a jealous lover, flames dancing, going where she wills until they grow so big it's as though they have a will of their own.
Blood runs out of her like a river, clothes covered in red and she can't wipe it off.
"No, please…NO!"
She screams and there is no sound, no one hears…
"Please…please…"
He stands by her side; just the shadow of him and her pain eases just a little. She doesn't know who he is, why he is always in her dreams. He never speaks, never does anything other than stand right there, beside her, always there… She can reach out, touch him but she won't. Whoever he is…she feels at peace.
'Death is coming.'
F
"Get out!" she sits up in the makeshift hospital bed, her choked scream the only sound and she clutches at her face, shaking.
King makes his way to her side carefully, not sure he believes what his son has said. He can't deny the ash or the soot on the walls but come on! A wave of fire? And the woman cowering in the hospital bed was responsible?
'I'm the fucking Easter Bunny. Check out my big floppy ears.'
Right.
He stops at the foot of the bed, watches her curl up and knows she has to be crying though he can barely hear her-
"Who are you?"
Her voice is a smoky whisper floating past the inky curtain of hair obscuring her face.
"Hannibal King." His reply is automatic, doesn't even think it and lacks the usual sarcasm in tone. That's just weird and King moves closer. She looks up and scoots back suddenly. "Whoa, hey." His hand is raised and he doesn't approach. King stares, can't help himself because he's never seen eyes like hers, eyes so dark he isn't sure what color they are but for the firefly's that spark in their depths-. King would swear he could see her soul and it rips through him like a Mac truck.
"Hannibal."
His name whispers past her lips and his knees wobble like Jell-O. His throat goes dry and his feet are unexplainably glued to the floor where he stands. He lowers his trembling hands hastily and works his tongue into some semblance of his normal self.
"Who are you?" he asks, eyes never leaving her face.
"You're in my dreams…" firefly eyes flick over his features, committing to memory the face she's never been able to see. She knows its him, feels it- recognition and questions this. "Why-?" she flinches, looks down and eye contact is broken. King drags in a breath, feels his heart beating normally and wonders what the hell just happened to make him revert to pre-adolescence.
"No…No, no…" she smears the blood dripping on her fingers and more runs over her lip. She hates the coppery taste in her mouth, the unbearable warmth that is building inside of her and scrambles off the bed. King tries to help her but she won't let him near. She hits the floor, on her knees as King rounds the bed to help her.
"Stay away!" she panics, lunges off the floor and as far away from him as she can get. "Please…go." Fresh tears fill her eyes and those firefly's just seem brighter. "Let me go." It's a softer whisper than before and all King has is more questions but for her it's just like the dream. She'll hurt them, because she has no control over what she is, what she was forced to become.
"Why?" King creeps closer, never stopped moving towards her and she keeps backing away but there's nowhere to go in that corner. "Let me help you."
'Fuck.' It's a momentary pause and then he's moving steadily towards her again. 'Since when is 'us' just me?'
"No." she turns to the wall at her back. They are four stories high and the window is double-paned; no way will she get out that way. King is confident, knows she has to get past him to reach the door and get out- he can see how this would give her the wrong impression but he's not some crazy psycho on a rampage- the news can kiss his ass.
Even if she gets past him the others are outside. King isn't about to let her go so easy, not now.
He can't.
"NO." King even shakes his head. In the back of his mind he wonders how the hell he knows what she's thinking when he's never seen her before in his life. He's positive they've never met but it just feels…
She looks at him once more, dark eyes full of tears and he thinks she's almost sorry but he's not sure what for. She turns to the window- it's only a few feet away.
"No, No!"
But she's running straight for it, the rag she grabbed from the end table discarded.
"NO! NOOO!" King tries to grab for her, knows he's too far and watches helplessly as she leaps onto the sill. The double-paned glass shatters and he knows full well that can't be possible. He knows she has to be in pain and the fall will kill her- glass cascades all around, bouncing off his arm and shoulder, glinting in the late sun, resembling delicate drops of clear water, shimmering like rainbows.
He can hear the others rush in, hears their questions while he watches her glide- yes, she's fucking gliding the four stories down and King is questioning whether he really saw the flames…?
Who is she?
Why did he get all fucking concerned with the- the- concern?
And huh?
King shakes his head as if to clear it- and what was with the mooning look? Acting like he'd never seen a- a- Fuck! What was- is, what is she?
"KING!" Abby's voice cuts through the fog of his thoughts bringing him back to reality with a harsh kathump he'd swear he could almost feel.
"What!" he growls turning to glare at her. The simmering anger is always there, just under the surface and he keeps it there. There had been a time when he wouldn't have questioned Abby, when he'd trust her to have his back…. Times change and so do people. After DayStar… No, King can't forgive her for that, he can't forget about Zoë and wondering where she is or if she is ok.
"Dad," Chris… tall, dark haired Chris. "What happened?" his step-son questions and it's as though she is looking at King, the same piercing stare, just like his Mother...
"I- I'm not sure." King's hands fist- 'if only' won't help but that's what he thinks about. If only Abby hadn't shown up on his door step. If only he'd been a little faster. If only, if only, if only, if only!
King brushes past them and heads out of the room. He shies away from their memories and it's her- the firefly eyes and her whispered voice that follow him, tearing through him like some- some-
'Fuck!'
"I don't even know her name." King mutters stopping at the foot of his bed.
F
Hannibal.
His name is Hannibal King.
She has a name and a face for the man in her dreams but no answers.
Why?
Who is he? Why is he there, in her dreams?
Why does she care?
She paces, confused, elated, nervous- a jumble of emotions and its frightening… To feel… She's not used to so many emotions, she's turned herself off, shut away from the world, from people- it's so much easier.
He has a family.
'He looked at me.'
He saw her, she'd felt it…
His family.
She had a family, once…
"No…"
Her head is pounding, the insistent cadence getting louder and louder.
"Stop…please stop…"
She is home now, where it all began. There's no one to hurt, no one who wants to come near the abandoned estate. Such tragedy…
"Please…"
'Why won't this stop?'
Her screams echo, in the distance a flock of birds takes flight. No one is close enough to hear, no one but the shaggy haired beast loping through the forest.
'Why won't it stop? Why? Why? Why!'
The walls are black, charred but the stones remain in place. No light penetrates her self-made cell. The drip of water from the outdated sprinkler system has formed puddles in the dirt floor. Each drop is magnified a hundred times- they sound like bombs and she's clutching at her head, pressing tightly to her ears but it doesn't help. She stumbles through the broken pieces of furniture, smacks hard against a heavy piece and they move. Simple. She doesn't lift a finger, there's no need, it just is. A side effect, part of the plan…
"Evolution…. The perfect human…"
"NO!"
The smell of wet earth is suffocating, she can't breathe…
"You could be stronger."
They took everything.
"Never fall ill, never worry over his health."
Took everything there was; the vials and notes…the formula.
"You'll understand once you see. You'll feel differently after this."
It was supposed to be a cure.
That's what he said, 'a cure to end all plagues'.
And she believed…
It was never about helping the masses, never about bettering the quality of human life… Not for him.
One day bleeds into the next, so many it seems she's been this thing forever and maybe she has because the memories of that day are just as fresh. Why should she care about anything? There's no one left to care for…
She's curled in a corner, shivering though not from the cold; she can never be cold enough for that.
They've made a mistake, they've made a powerful enemy- one they fear because she has nothing left they can take.
F