Ashes to Ashes

Chapter 8

by Hellieace


Reviews


Corey5268: No he's def not good about his meds. But oh yes, you shall learn, and i hope to wrench your heart with that experience. Heh.

Pengwens: :(

InvaderPey: Distressed, are we? xD

Dark Fenrir: Arthur is too naive to understand how agonizing eternity really is. =/

Nanamii148: *hands you tissues* Sorry?

Guest: Let it. It is a glorious life to live, friend.

buttercup. and. cornflower: Awww! Thank you! I like leaving the bonding aspect vague. I want it to slowly creep up, and when these dolts realize it, it'll be that much more sweet and exactly what they need in life. :)

lisacreature: Pain, disappointment, horror, loss - basically hell on Earth for poor Art. But there are good times and bad too.

Laruna Silver Fox: It really is :(

TheAmazingAl: *sits you down* Calm, darling, all shall be revealed in due time~

DaifukuBun: Y'all gonna have to learn to deal with cliffies better xD

Blackcat: heheh i love a good shroud of mystery

kelly: He's not /totally/ useless. He's a pretty convenient heat reliever for Art? xD

FBN: welp, sorry not sorry xD

nikkicchi: NOPE I WILL NOT LET THIS TURN INTO ANOTHER OF MY FAILED ATTEMPTS TO WRITE A FIC AND THEN NEVER UPDATE IT.

zoewinter1: My one true love is a good cliffhanger

El Tord: one step forward, seven thousand nine hundred and eighty four steps back

Kyle: Thank you, dear! ^^

Rune101: Wow, just wow! Thank you. I really pride myself in the characterizations. Even if they are premade, and established, twisting their personalities to the grim darkness around them is both a challenge and extremely rewarding. I'm really glad you found this, dear! Thank you again!

Loeily: hahaha, Hey, fallout was a good game, all of them xD it's a neat concept I don't mind borrowing a few times.

Guest 2: Very painful indeed. :(

Trahnael: Yeah, gotta come out of the SUV sooner or later xD EEEEEE you like Ivan! ^^

Lunar Iris: heheh strange pillow talk is actually really fun to write, not gonna lie. xDD But I love taking you guys by surprise, I really do!

angleterre: wait... you screenname... OI, I KNOW YOU FROM TUMBLR! You're an amazing artist! Ahhhhh! Eeee, thank you for reading~


Chapter 8


The gray darkness that lingered around Arthur's vision slowly cleared, but the intense throbbing in his head certainly didn't. Groaning, the Omega blinked in hopes of focusing his eyes.

The room he found himself in the corner of was dilapidated, made of crumbling and soot-stained concrete. Rusted spires of rebar jutted out from cracked pillars and the splintered ground. The only light came from small, makeshift lamps powered by an electric generator that hummed in the opposite corner. And Arthur was quite sure, despite the poor lighting, that the suspicious stains splattering the walls were blood.

But the Omega couldn't shake the sense of deja vu that creeped up on his mind. This place was familiar, and yet Arthur knew he'd never been here before. The room was so plain, nothing distinguishable to remind him of anything. It didn't make sense.

Arthur gave a sudden shudder at chill in the room, but also the uncomfortable way his lower body ached as he came to. Memories rushed back to him - being pleasantly knotted to Alfred, just enjoying the natural comfort his body took from the Alpha filling him. Then the violent attack and crash that had sent the vehicle flipping on its side... the awful, traumatizing pain of being ripped apart, and watching the naive Alpha be dragged off, kicking and screaming for him. But not the memory of this place.

His lips curled in a grimace, and uncomfortably, he shifted his legs. Dried blood, slick and Alfred's seed were pasted to the back of his thighs, but the vast majority of it was blood from the violent tearing. Wincing, Arthur did his best to fold his legs to find something more comfortable for his sore body, but nothing helped. The cold concrete scratched his hips, and every motion sent little slivers of pain shooting up his spine.

He was still dressed the way he'd been dragged in: his suit jacket comfortably framing his shoulders, tie loose about his neck, and bare from the waist down where Alfred had shucked his pants long ago.

Shifting up on his bare hip, the Omega ignored the rough scrape of concrete against thin skin and bone. His bleary eyes took in his surroundings more acutely, and registered the fact that there were tall bars that separated him from the rest of the room. He was in a cell, and a filthy one at that.

With a haughty sneer at the condition around him Arthur checked himself for any other injuries he might have sustained. But besides black bruising on his back and the throbbing pain from his torn entrance, the Omega found himself mostly unscathed.

"You're awake."

Arthur's gaze shot up. He hadn't heard a single step or the scrape of treads against the concrete. Whoever spoke either was skilled enough to move silently, or had been in the room the entire time. Arthur could have believed either with how familiarity rang in the thickly accented voice.

"Observant as ever," Arthur retorted, teasing at the fringes of a hunch. He knew this voice, but from where? And why couldn't he put a name or face to it?

"So you remember me?" the voice asked, tone ever neutral - exactly as Arthur recalled.

"Not entirely."

"It's been many years."

"My memory doesn't age, remember? The data should be as crystal clear as it was the day it was embedded. Why don't I know you?"

"Pardon. I forget you are like us sometimes. You act too human."

"Too human? You say it as if there's something wrong with that," Arthur quipped.

"It's not what you are."

"But it's who I am," Arthur retorted, pulling himself up by the bars. "And you didn't answer my question."

"Your memory is hidden from you."

"But why?"

"I do not know. That information is not my privilege. Go to the source. You will find answers at the source if you can find it."

Arthur scoffed, leaning his shoulder against the rusty bars. Of course the answer had to be entirely vague without any kind of clear direction. That was just Arthur's luck.

"Care to explain?"

"You should know."

Rolling his eyes, the Omega began to grow annoyed by these assumptions of the familiarly unknown voice.

"You will find what you seek. If you are like us, you will."

"You keep saying 'us', but who the hell is that?"

"Ludwig, don't be so rude. Taunting Mr. Kirkland is so uncouth," another voice chimed, this one much higher, but it had a pompous air about it. The click of boot heels accompanied the second man's voice, and Arthur's keen eyes watched the sway of darkness as the figure approached.

The moment those violet eyes caught the light, and the smug smirk lit up the figure's pale face, Arthur gasped.

"You... I know you..." he whispered in disbelief And the memories came crashing on him in a blur of nostalgia and pain.


"But why?" Arthur whined, crossing his arms before his chest.

"Because the data is inconclusive, you obnoxious brat!" Roderich growled, trying to write down his numbers into his charts peacefully. Only his experiment was being obnoxious and oh-so-humanly needy.

"I hate these damned tests though."

"If you'd just follow instructions, it wouldn't have to be redone!"

"It hurt, you bastard!"

"Exactly why we have to test; you shouldn't be able to feel pain!"

"Well I do, and I'm not doing it again!"

"You don't have a choice!" Roderich whirled around in his chair, meeting the defiant glare that certainly had not been programmed into Arthur. Where he developed so many human characteristics, the doctor didn't know, but it pissed him off. His prior experiments had been perfectly obedient - why did he have to be brought to this barbaric American laboratory? Twenty years in this damned place and he had still not recovered the advances of his life's work back in Germany. It had all been destroyed in the Nazis' last ditch attempt to bay the Allies from discovering their secrets.

"So make me!" Arthur snarled, balling his hands into fists. An eighteen-year-old Arthur Kirkland was more than a handful. And Roderich sighed repugnantly seeing all his hard work refusing to flourish in the rebellious experiment. Ludwig and Gilbert had been so easy to control. But their AIs had been so much more advanced, and so much simpler to keep leashed to the doctor.

"You're a nuisance," the Austrian growled, returning to his charts. The easiest way to coax Arthur into being agreeable was usually to ignore him. The blond hated not having the doctor's attention for some unknown reason. It was like a child tugging at the pant leg of a parent, begging to be noticed.

Within a few moments of pen scratching and little mumblings, Roderich felt Arthur standing next to him. His silent steps were the only proof that despite his distasteful knack for humanity, Arthur was still his test subject.

"Doctor?"

Roderich sighed in exasperation, despite his inner triumph. It took all his will not to smugly grin back at the younger.

"What do you want, child?"

"We can do the tests again. It didn't hurt that much."

"Oh? Good, let's get you strapped in then," Roderich quipped, nudging Arthur back towards the testing room. The experiment went willingly, but there was a begrudged, dreaded shuffle to his usually graceful walk. The doctor took no notice.

Crossing the threshold from the data room to the testing chamber was like stepping into a whole other world. They each had their own kind of chaos - things strewn about, items in stacks, flickering lights and screens, only they were very different. The data room was plagued by stacks of paper scattered across desks, while the testing chamber was lined by cords of wires and vice machines. Scalpels, vials and electrodes were laid out on trays, all neatly washed and still glittering with stray droplets. Monitoring machines were hooked to a myriad of cords, and Roderich led Arthur to some surrounding a table.

"Strip," he commanded. The emerald-eyed experiment furrowed his brows, but began to unbutton his shirt after shrugging off the black suit jacket. Why Arthur always insisted upon wearing that ridiculous getup baffled the doctor. But Arthur's usual justification was that all the other agents got to wear neatly tailored suits, so why couldn't he?

When Roderich tried to explain that Arthur wasn't an agent, but an experiment, Arthur adamantly defied him. He was a real agent. He worked with partners, discovered intel on foreign threats, and had his own desk in the upper floors of their building. Just because he had to come down here and dealt with the doctor didn't invalidate that he was a CIA agent.

The doctor watched as the younger removed his pants, exposing the lithe, but powerful muscles of his legs. His fine hips were wide for a man's, but perfect for an Omega's. That was another detail that frustrated Roderich. The stupid Americans had given him an Omega to work with. His experiments needed to have stronger bodies - that of Alphas or Betas - that didn't grow weak and strained under a monthly heat. Pregnancy was also an issue, seeing as Arthur could be quite promiscuous when left unattended. The Austrian didn't have time to be dealing with such nonsense, and made sure to have the blond force down the new, widely available oral contraceptives as frequently as the dosage allowed.

He motioned for Arthur to lay on the table, and was pleased to find obedience in its rare form with the blond.

Arthur was used to this though. He resigned to it really, and lay on his back. Eyes closed, he tried to relax as the doctor bound his wrists by his side, and buckled the straps across his chest and legs. The tightening of the rough leather made his skin crawl, but it couldn't be avoided. The doctor needed his results, and that was that.

Roderich brushed back his shaggy hair from his temple, exposing a small, almost unnoticeable port to attach an electrode to. Hearing it click into place, he did the same to the other side, and patted Arthur's arm.

"Ready?"

"I suppose," Arthur affirmed, peaking an eye open. "What are you testing though?"

"I need to find exactly where your nervous system is overriding the celerium boards and allowing you to feel pain. I'll use electricity to track it."

Arthur swallowed nervously at the mention of electricity. The harmless stuff that powered his TV and light bulbs was also one of the doctor's favorite subjects. It was also his favorite when testing Arthur's circuit systems in action.

"Of course," he murmured after a moment, noticing Roderich had an expectant look on his face with a cocked brow. The doctor gave a nod before putting a much thicker strip of leather in the younger's mouth. Deep gouges were imprinted from where Arthur had bitten down on it before.

Walking about, Roderich set up all his papers, and warmed up the powerful machine that would be delivering the shocks to his experiment's body. The thick rods were familiar to Arthur, but that didn't sooth his racing heartbeat either.

"We'll start small, and see if anything changes as we increase the voltage."

The cold, simple way he explained was familiar as well. It was the same tone he used to talk about how the refrigerator at work sometimes didn't cool properly, or how the radio had a static echo - like Arthur was just another machine.

A few moments later - Arthur having squeezed his eyes shut - he felt the first zing of the electricity shooting up from his thigh, and winced. It wasn't a horrible start, and Roderich set the rods down to examine the sheet of paper being printed from the machine to check the readings of his body's systems versus the celerium components in his brain.

Arthur's heart dropped when Roderich frowned, and set the paper aside.

"That's hardly conclusive," he grumbled, and picked up the rods again. This time, he increased the machine's power.

Another shock, and Arthur whimpered as the burning pain seared his leg. Roderich diagnosed it as unviable yet again.

A stronger shock, and the experiment had to tightly clench his jaw, biting hard into the leather. The straps kept him from thrashing, but he writhed weakly.

It happened again and again, Roderich growing frustrated that the machine could not properly align exactly where the problem was. More and more electricity was applied, and Arthur screamed and bucked in pain. His eyes rolled back, his body wracked with wild spasms. He cried out, but did not ask Roderich to stop. He knew better - knew his place. The doctor needed his results, that was final.

He only ceased when Arthur was a sobbing mess on the table, sweat pouring down his body, and blood frothing against the band clenched in his teeth where the leather had cut into the sides of his mouth. The Omega shook, but did not move when the doctor released the straps holding him down. He was too weakened to, having been forced into still submission by the intense pain. The smell of burning flesh lingered in his senses: burn patches where the rods had been held on his skin too long marred his thighs. The only redeeming thing was that they wouldn't scar. Arthur's highly regenerative skin would see to that.

The doctor watched the way his subject's eyes didn't track as he moved away to fetch a glass of water. Returning, Arthur was still where he'd left him, the only sign he was alive was by his shuddering breathing.

Splashing the cold water across his face, the Omega startled with a scream. He suddenly curled in on himself, and Roderich sighed. More tears trickled down the blond's cheeks, sending a guilty pang through the doctor's heart. He really missed Ludwig and Gilbert. This never happened with them.

Gently touching his experiment's side, he didn't shy away when Arthur flinched.

"We're done for today, Arthur. Why don't you get some sleep?"

When Arthur didn't respond, the doctor shook his head and moved away. He returned with another small cup of water, and held it out to Arthur.

"Drink. You'll feel better."

The Omega looked up at him, but gingerly accepted the cup. His shaking hands tried to hold it steady to his lips, but the doctor had to help him so he could drink without spilling. Roderich combed back Arthur's sweat dampened hair.

"I'll have one of my assistants drive you home. You aren't well enough to be behind the wheel."

"I-I'm fine," Arthur insisted, struggling to lift himself from the table.

"Don't disobey."

"Fuck off," the Omega growled, weakly collapsing back to the cold steel.

Roderich ignored the insult, and went to where Arthur had discarded his black trousers. He fished out the man's keys and wallet before folding up the articles of his suit. He could see his subject briefly attempting to rise again, and failing miserably if the sharp thump of his body hitting the table again was any indicator.

He paged for an assistant, who promptly arrived. The young man glanced at the struggling Omega, and Roderich nodded. He handed the man Arthur's keys and wallet with a huff.

"Again, sir?" the assistant asked as he gathered Arthur's things in a case he'd brought with him.

"He's too weak."

"He's a prime subject - intelligent, resilient, and trained for your purposes," the man reminded the doctor, who sneered in response.

"I know that. But he is imperfect - not like my other two."

"Those models have since been destroyed, sir. No sense wallowing in the past, sir."

"Just shut up and take him, will you! And don't just leave him on the doorstep this time! At least put him in his own apartment. He caught a nasty cold from the rain last time. I couldn't test him for nearly a weak!"

"My apologies, doctor." The man then approached the table, and draped a thin, sterile sheet over the Omega. Arthur had passed out after hitting his head on the table a third time in his vain attempt to get back up.

Roderich helped the assistant out to the parking lot where Arthur's sleek, red Pontiac sat. Loading the Omega into it, and his assistant driving off, the doctor listened to the engine's fierce growl die away before returning inside to ponder more tests.

The last thing Arthur remembered before the flash of memory faded out was groggily waking to the world rushing by outside his car windows, and wondering just why he was being dragged home yet again.


"Doctor Roderich Edelstein," Arthur breathed in realization as reality came back to him.

The violet-eyed man smiled softly, his graying-brunet hair framing his face in a way that brought Arthur comfort. He knew this man, and something about him made Arthur wish he could remember exactly where he'd developed that fondness.

"I'm glad you remember me, Arthur. I haven't seen you in a very long time. But you haven't changed. You still look as young as ever."

"You aged," Arthur observed with a cautious tone. He'd recalled the doctor with sleek, auburn hair and smooth skin. Now he showed smile lines around his mouth, and the fine, crinkled lines beside his eyes. But his eyes themselves had not changed - they were still brimming with calculating intelligence.

"That happens, despite our best intentions."

"You were older than me... how are you alive?"

"The same way you are."

"You told me you were human," Arthur said, eyes wide.

"I was. For quite some time, actually. But things change, and now I am like my experiments - only superior."

"Superior?" Arthur growled back. "Sounds like the Nazi in you coming out again."

Roderich didn't seem amused in the slightest. He merely scoffed though, pivoting on his heel to walk away.

"That was a very long time ago, my friend. It's a new age - and it's a glorious one."

"You don't get out much then. The world is in shambles in case you haven't noticed."

"To you it is, with your limited human vision. But to a man like me, it's a fresh start. And I'd like to be a part of it. As flawed as you are, you are still one of my creations. But we can talk of this later. At least when you get some pants on."

"What...?" Arthur breathed in disbelief, but accepted a pair of trousers when the first figure stepped into the light, handing them to him. The man was quite tall, and his body was built with thick muscles and broad shoulders. His startling cerulean eyes were cold though, and Arthur knew they weren't human.

"Are you Ludwig?" Arthur asked as he stepped into the slacks, and buttoned them up.

"I am."

"So your friend over there must be Gilbert, am I right?" Arthur asked, remembering both names vividly. Another figure beside Roderich with burning crimson eyes smirked and nodded in affirmation. Ludwig simply stepped back, expression like ice.

"Doctor, I don't know what you did to get them back, but I want no part of it."

"We've been watching, Arthur. You'd really prefer to squander your life away with a bunch of barbaric survivors?"

"They're my team. They need me."

"Let them go, Arthur. You always had such difficulty with detaching your emotions."

"Must be the human in me," Arthur quipped with a smirk.

The Austrian's lip curled back in a sneer, but he had no retort for Arthur. That had always been the problem with the emerald-eyed Omega. No matter how many pieces and parts he'd stripped him of in an attempt to perfect his AI, that instinct was too deeply ingrained in him. Arthur would never be the perfection Ludwig and Gilbert were.

"Very well. We will continue our observations, in case you have a change of heart. Until then, you may stew in this cage like a lowly animal."

"Wait! You can't just leave me here!"

"You want nothing to do with us. Until that changes, you are just another pawn. Pawns aren't to be rescued. They are meant to be sacrificed."

"Don't play that game with me, Roderich! At least get me out!"

"One day, you'll see the error of your ways, little Omega."

"Goddamn it! Come back!" Furrowing his brows, Arthur watched as the three turned away, a strange, inhuman unison to their movements, and vanished into the shadows of the filthy room.

Arthur slumped back to the ground, feeling his head began to throb in pain. It was like he'd seen a ghost, and the apparition was very unwelcome. But without a full memory to pull from, Arthur was at a loss of what to do. All he knew was that all three of them should no longer be alive. That memory was too old for anyone to be alive.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Arthur tipped his head back against the bars, and waited. What else could he do now?


"Pacing isn't going to solve anything," Ivan said, giving the frantic Alpha a confused look.

"Helps me think," Alfred explained, fretting more than ever. Ivan simply sighed, and leaned back on the concrete wall. They'd been trapped in here for nearly a day, and as the hours ticked by, Alfred grew more and more restless. The young Alpha was a mess worrying over Arthur. Not that Ivan wasn't, but he was much better at staying composed.

"Do you think he's alright?" Alfred asked for what had to be the hundredth time.

"I don't know," Ivan retorted, probably for the hundredth time as well.

"But we have to do something!" the younger Alpha whirled on Ivan, looking as if he might burst into tears at any moment. Ivan was actually taken aback by the raw emotion in his bright eyes.

"Relax, Alfred. It's going to be taken care of," Ivan assured, coaxing him to sit before the larger man. Alfred wrung his hands, but did seem to calm some by sitting, and having a chance to gather his thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

"CDC thugs aren't the brightest. They never had the kind of training real agents like ourselves do. We'll figure something out. There may be more of them, but we are better."

"What about Arthur?"

"I have no idea where he is being held, but not here with the rest of us," Ivan said, motioning to the other cells all around. CIA agents were filling most of them, two or three to a small cell. A variety of wounds marked them. Some more severe than others, but the vast majority were no more life threatening than bad bruising and shallow cuts. After seeing Arthur be seized, Ivan had taken the initiative to surrender them quickly. There was no point in getting killed when the target had been to capture, not destroy.

"We can't leave without him," Alfred pleaded, afraid of that collected tone in Ivan's voice. Alfred was a mess over this, worrying over the Omega after having been violently ripped from him. He was sure he was hurt, and probably alone. It just didn't sit well with Alfred.

"I would never. I will die before I leave Arthur to these wolves," Ivan vowed.

"Ivan!" Tino's voice called from a cell just across the hall from Ivan and Alfred's. The two Alphas looked to the slight Beta. He was cut on his cheek, but other than that, was unscathed. Physically, at least. Emotionally, he looked more distraught than Alfred felt.

"Ivan, I'm so worried about Berwald. They took him away when they were putting us in here. He's so ill," Tino simpered, biting at his nails.

The violet-eyed Alpha sighed softly to himself. He didn't want to admit to Tino that Berwald's fate was likely an awful one. This was the CDC after all. They didn't earn their name by not examining, poking and prodding at every ill human they could get their hands on after the fallout. Berwald was likely their newest dissection by now. But telling Tino that would crush the Beta beyond recovering. Even for a mated pair, their bond was much stronger than most Ivan had seen. And ever since the big Alpha's illness, they'd only become that much more dependent on each other.

"He'll be alright, Tino," Ivan lied, "he's strong, and so are you."

Just as Tino bit his lip, and made to reply, a warning siren began to blare. The high-pitched wail wasn't any kind of fire alarm, but the sinister sound chilled Alfred to the core. The nervous shuffling from around the cages set the young Alpha on edge, as if the others knew exactly what this meant.

"Contamination alarm," Ivan announced, brows furrowed. "This should be interesting..."


Woah~ plot thickens~ and what's up with Berwald, eh? Stay tuned!