Breaking Benjamin - Give me a Sign
Chapter Four
He strode into the entrance tunnel of the complex. Wordlessly, the guards opened the heavy, steel-bound gates and he stepped through. Otherverse power still clung to him, making him even stronger and more formidable than before, so that he seemed to leave a trail of crackling, unseen lightning in his wake.
Taneia Amaari was standing on the other side of the door. She raised a hand and opened her mouth to greet him, but the look in his burning red eyes stopped her, freezing the words in her throat.
He paused in front of her. A moment of silence stretched between them, the tension growing thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally she reached out and said, "X ... what happened?"
His eyes flashed and flickered with black-and-gold flames. Wordlessly she turned and ran back into the complex, but he was amazingly fast-much faster than she would ever be. He leapt forward effortlessly and caught her shoulders, staring intently at her.
"Dr. Amaari ... Taneia." The only one who defends me in this place, he thought bitterly. They think I don't know how they hate me, with such poisonous malice in their eyes. Many simply call me "the abomination." "I killed the witch. Her minions are dead or banished. What do you fear now? What would you have me destroy?"
"It's ... you," she whispered. "Your eyes. ... Alexander was right-when there was a chance-the Barrier, you-: She broke away from him and fled, unthinking of the moment's meaning, not noticing his use of the specific pronoun.
For a second, he didn't notice either.
Then, unseen and unnoticed, his face hardened, drawing itself into lines so sharp they seemed almost brittle, like the edges of broken glass. Now I am truly alone, he thought, finally too inhuman to bear. In the end, you have to watch your own back. Anyone can be induced to stick their knife in it when you become complacent. Anyone's soul has a price-or a breaking point, like poor human Dr. Amaari.
Like the passage of a hot, dark wind, X stalked back into the depths of the complex. Wordlessly he kicked open Dr. Alexander's office door and stormed in, his face hidden once again. He was pleased to find the good doctor at his desk, but the man's irritating, fluttering nervousness only fueled his anger. Charles Alexander was a toady, and like all good toadies, he'd lick anyone's boots if he had something to gain.
"What did you tell her?" he growled.
"X, I-w-what do you-?:
Placing his hands on the scientist's neat, polished desk, he leaned across the intervening space between them until he was inches away from the smaller man. "What is it you told Dr. Amaari?" he said, his voice deceptively calm and quiet. He still saw red shadows out of the corners of his eyes, so he knew their color had not faded to black.
"I- The man's hands gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned a mottled white color, blue veins popping out under his skin. The doctor was lucky to be alive, his body would not have borne his condition well. magic kept his organs running, and a small disc of white metal, a compact piece of human technology, clung to his side, a long cord snaking out of it, yet another disappearing through a port in to his skin. He looked like death warmed over, all weak muscles, papery skin, and huge, dark veins.
X savored the scent of the man's fear, but dismissed it. He was a creature of iron self-control. "No games, Dr. Alexander. I am not a patient individual."
"I t-told her to-no, whatever you do, don't!" He shrank back as X made a forward motion, his blade appearing in his hand as if by magic. And perhaps it had.
"No," X said, his resonant bass voice almost silky, "I'm not going to kill you, Dr. Alexander! It is sorely tempting, but there is nothing worth losing control over." He slammed his fist down in the center of the desk, cracking straight through the wood until it was split nearly in half. "However, self control can only go so far. Even mine. I suggest you remember that, Doctor."
"I told her to shut you off," the man babbled, pressed against the wall, "the genetic key, while we still had the chance, while
X spun away and swept the remains of the office door aside. Then he was gone, leaving the smell of ozone in his wake.
He made his way more slowly this time through the maze of the underground facility. Using the techniques he had learned when he first began to control his otherworldly abilities, he calmed his racing mind, pushed back the storm of emotion within, and focused on emptiness. As he moved he extended his consciousness through the rock around him, feeling the lives of the many creatures in the caverns. Some burned with the effects of Other Side power, but others were ordinary Earth creatures. Bats, insects and the occasional spider were all the Earthly beings that coexisted with the humans in these tunnels, and most of the bats and bugs were banished to the caverns. People moved about their daily lives, eating, sleeping, working and dreaming. The ground was still and calm, unsullied for now by the forces that moved beneath it. For a moment, the world lay still, as if in slumber-even the thoughts of other creatures were muted.
When he reached his quarters he had regained his control and his impassive facade, but not the calm he had known before. That was shattered, and would take much more than a simple concentration technique to recover.
But the universe seemed to have other plans for him. He found Dr. Amaari, pale but composed, sitting in the main room. This time no one accompanied her.
She sighed as he removed his hooded cloak and put it away. "I thought you would be ... different."
He turned to face her, schooling his face to show no expression, a deceptively calm mask. "Why?"
"Your eyes, X, they were ..." She shivered slightly. "Like looking into pools of magma. I've never seen you that powerful."
"I alone am incapable of that much power."
"Then tell me what happened."
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "The mission was accomplished. I am not good at telling stories. There is little you need to know outside of my report, except that that particular threat has been purged."
"Don't be ridiculous. Even if it's just technical details, can't you tell me anything?"
"Perhaps." Flatly, he recounted the specifics of the tunnel fight and his confrontation with the illusionist. He was used to giving reports, but he usually did so in written or electronic form.
"It bit you?" she said. "And you did nothing? Don't get overconfident, X, it'll get you killed."
"I am not overconfident, Doctor. I am a realist."
"Bullshit," she stated flatly. "And when was it "Doctor" again?"
"When I lost my memories, if I had any at all. When your actions proved to me that I am no more human than the entities that I routinely kill. Take your pick."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Go away. What is it you think you can do for me? Why do you think I even need help? You do not have people on staff trained to treat extradimensional aliens, do you? Then do not assume something is wrong with me."
She stepped back. X didn't attack with words-X didn't need to. But he had proven to be just as effective with that tactic as he was with every other attack he learned.
In a brittle, hard voice, she said, "What is it that makes you think that I want to help you? After all, I'm human." She threw the word across the room with as much contempt as she could muster, turned on her heel, and left the room, letting the door slam in her wake. It was done in an inexcusable lack of self control, but the edge she'd been kept on for so long was wearing her thin.
It was necessary, he thought, doing that to her. It has severed any ties I could have forged with her. Now there is no potential for mistakes between us-except the potential to underestimate one another.
Every soul has a price. I will either make sure that mine does not, or I will become soulless.
He sank into a meditative position in the center of the room, took several breaths, and entered a light trance. There was the matter of the poison in his body that needed to be taken care of. Undead poison, while sometimes not very strong, had a habit of replicating itself quickly. And the more it grew, the stronger it became.
Taneia had finally worked up the courage to go back and see X and tell him how ridiculous they were all being, how they were on edge because of recent spikes in Otherverse activity, how they could smooth over their disagreement and go on as before. A list of excuses piled up in her head, and finally she simply convinced herself to go before she could convince herself not to. No matter what the doctor said, the rest of the complex had to remain like a well-oiled machine, and having an emotional X and an overstressed head of the project was more than it could handle.
Determinedly she set off, her footsteps echoing in the silent corridors. She knew already that anything she said to him would be useless. He was closed off to anyone now, as alien and cold as the Barrier, but a lot more immovable. She was either making a grave mistake or having no effect at all, but if nothing else, they all still had to cooperate. She had gone and seen the ruins of Dr. Alexander's office, which had probably been what finally decided her on that point.
She reached his door and stood silently in front of it. It was like any other entrance along the endless corridor, a grey metal door set back inside a drab, colorless alcove. Unmarked and unlocked (everyone knew the room; he didn't need locks to keep people out) it stood, offering no hint as to what kind of reception awaited her on the other side. Because she knew that X already knew she was standing there; his senses were more than adequate enough to tell him that.
And then she pulled up short. What am I doing? she asked herself. I'm in charge of this project, not X. He knows I'm important and can't be gotten rid of. He's so terribly cold and logical after all, the ever-practical great one in there.
So why am I worrying so much about what he thinks of me? Not it-he.
That question nearly made her turn back. She could always get someone else to tell him to shape up, and it would follow logically in his mind that there was nothing he could do about it except ignore them. X's tactic of standing impassively, pretending people didn't exist simply to unnerve them, was well-known. And he had become extremely good at it. Or she could summon him, but he might choose to ignore her.
But, she thought fiercely, I am not one to shrink from something I've set myself to do, and I am not one to let my emotions cloud my judgment.
Yes, my emotions, she thought, harshly driving that realization home.
She stepped up to the door and knocked resolutely. There was no response from within, so she waited outside.
And waited ...
And waited.
Uncertainty of a completely different kind settled over her. X would either tell you to go away or come in. If he wanted to ignore people, he would be somewhere else.
Her mind flashed back on the nearly-healed bite wound on his forearm and she cursed. He hadn't gotten that purged like she'd told him to. Goddamn him, he'd become arrogant enough to think his half-human, half-Other system was all but impassable.
"Jesus Christ," she muttered, and, steeling herself, she pushed open the door.
The room was as painfully empty of personality as ever. X was sitting in its center, his head bent so she couldn't see his face, somewhere deep in trance-or worse. He was still drawing on Other energy, but it was so minimal that she only felt it as a sense of unease, of otherness in the air-the sense of X but greatly diminished. The room was utterly devoid of the crackling energy he radiated as easily as he breathed, and after years in his presence, the air seemed thin and empty.
She walked over to him and looked down at him. He was extremely tall, but she was tall for a woman, and almost curled up as he was, he wasn't as tall as her.
She knew that he couldn't ingest most things from this world, because it would put his system into some kind of shock they'd never seen before. Once they had to save him from complete systemic collapse because someone shot him, but it was only a grazing blow. It wasn't the bullet that was a problem, it was the garden-variety poison in the tip. So if the zombies had been raised on this parallel and one had bit him, then it might follow that its mundane, Earthly poison was destroying his semi-elemental, half-alien body. He had eaten prepared human food once and slipped in to a coma. They were very careful what they fed him because regular sugars and spices were like poison to him. If we'd let him build his own form, she thought with a trace of irony, this wouldn't be a problem.
"X," she said softly. "X, can you hear me?"
But he remained as still and unmoving as stone.
She reached out hesitantly, pulled her hand back, reached out again, and placed it on his shoulder. She shook him lightly. "Snap out of it. Come on, X."
His head lifted slowly, turning this way and that like a sleeper rising from a terrible dream. His face looked awful, pale and lined and ancient, and his eyes were starless, depthless black.
For a moment his face registered only confusion, and then recognition dawned in his eyes. "Taneia," he murmured, "where have you ...?
Then, too fast to register all at once, his hands moved up toward her face, trailed through her hair and came to rest on her shoulders.
"X, what-?
With sudden, almost fevered strength he pulled her down against him, so close that she could feel the fine trembling in his body, the infection in his system making him weak and energetic all at once.
"I only need ... a little of your strength ... to augment mine," he murmured weakly. She had never heard weakness in his voice, and it frightened her. His face came to rest in her hair, his breath warm against the top of her head. "A little to give me the key to staying alive ..." His arms tightened slightly, and she could feel the incredible strength in his body. If he wasn't careful he could crush the life out of her, even in this state. It aroused a strange boil of emotions within her, and she fought to regain her composure. You, you have the humanity that would save me from this. And I want once in my life to feel human. I was made to be one, and I never have ... not elemental for a moment, mortal for all this time ...
"You can be healed," she said. "You don't need me to heal you."
He put one finger under her chin and tilted her face up until she could meet his eyes. Red fire chased itself around their edges, and the look in them had little to do with what Taneia thought it would, and a lot to do with something frightening, something she couldn't name.
She started to pull away from him, but he tightened his grip on her and she stilled, like a frightened rabbit. He was on the edge of his control, and she didn't want to think what would happen to her if it snapped. She had to be careful too, lest she inadvertently send him over that edge. She stayed so still that the only sign of life in her was her fluttering heartbeat, like a trapped bird in her ribcage. The sound of it, the taste of her mingled emotions, was enough to unbalance that knife's edge he was on. But it didn't send him over, not yet.
Control, he thought to himself. Even in this weakened state, I must retain control. It would not do to kill her. I must be careful, so very careful with her. She is fragile, she is only human. But by all the Higher Elementals, I need what life-energy she possesses, only a fragment of it, only ... The way she looked when she saw his eyes change, that moment of complete vulnerability, flashed back into his mind. It could bring out the best in him, but it could also bring out the very worst in him.
He stood slowly, drawing her up with him. Even normally, X's body temperature was much higher than a human's, but now the warmth radiating from him seemed nearly substantial.
"Taneia," he said urgently, "I need you to listen. While I am still present, I need you to hear me." Fighting for control, he took her face in his hands and again turned it up to meet his eyes. The red in them was spreading across his pupils like a lake of blood and fire.
"X," she said, finding her voice, "You can't. I can't." She waved her hands helplessly, but it didn't quite work because she didn't have very much room. "You're ... There are ways to heal you."
"Of course," he said, a touch of his old coldness back in his voice, "none of which are currently possible." His pupils were only dots in pools of liquid light, centers of absolute blackness that she could fall into and never come out of.
"You would hurt a normal human," she said. "You could kill me so easily."
Something haunted crossed his face. "But I am X," he said, "the nameless, known for my determination and my willpower ... among other things ..." His voice became little more than a whisper, a deep tremor in the air. "If I die, this place will not survive it. The release of energy would kill thousands of people, and its far-reaching effects could kill millions. Your world would be forever warped, if I am not properly separated from my mortal body, and you have no means with which to do that." He drew her into the circle of his arms again, holding her slight frame lightly against him. To him, her body was so delicate, it was akin to handling a tiny bird.
"Trust me," he said, so softly she could only feel the words against her hair. "If you ever have, Taneia, trust me. ..."
She gazed up at him. His face was so inhumanly perfect that it made her heart hurt to look at it, but it was a cold perfection.
Slowly she responded to his touch, running her hands lightly up his arms to his shoulders, pulling him down toward her. He lifted her bodily and set her on the bed, and she reached higher as he bent over her, tracing the line of one sculpted cheekbone. She couldn't remember if she'd ever touched his skin for any reason, and for some reason, despite his warmth, she had always imagined it to be cold, but it wasn't. His eyes were the color of the red in a sunset at their outer edges, drawing to a fiercely glowing garnet around the pupils. His power rose slowly, as if he had summoned it from a great distance, and it pushed across Taneia's skin in a rush of prickling warmth, making the whole world light and strange for a moment, the air packed with more energy than it felt like it could hold.
Summoning his power seemed to drain much of what remained of his energy. He sank down on to the bed, managing to clamber up beside her before his body betrayed him and his muscles gave out.
She propped herself up on one elbow and reached out to him. His hands met hers, his eyes meeting her gaze with the color of liquid, shimmering ruby. Slowly, ever so carefully, he drew her down beside him until the warmth of both body and magic was wrapped around her.
"Trust me ..." he said, his voice urgent. A hard thought could have closed the space between them.
"I always have," she whispered.