Thanks for the reviews: Phantomgirl96, Kristie, Honest (btw, I named Holiday Sandra because someone else guessed her first name might be Sandra and I felt wow, that felt like such a perfect first name for her, so I kinda adopted it too), Peacexfreedom, jessk13, xxSkyexBlue, Kaylee (thanks for going to all the trouble of creating an account, it's a great name :-) ), Emma, Lilly and SqeeFreak! You guys have all been a big help in getting the story written faster.
Also, Kaylee, Lily, Emma, glad to have you guys back on board. I'm not at all negative about your hesitation to continue reading, I'd have been entirely the same I think, it's easy to get scared off a story if it looks like it's going downhill and I must admit, I wasn't the best prepared about introducing Holiday's 'situation' as it was a bit too sudden of an idea which led onto something that I felt would round off the end perfectly. Anyway, on with the story.
Asleep
Chapter 10
"Six, I will talk to her alone," Knight's voice allowed no argument, his eyes were remorseless and he rested his chin on his clasped hands.
Six's jaw flexed but he bit back the argument as Holiday gave him a regretful look, reaching her hand to touch his arm, but stopped inches from contact. "I'll be okay," she mouthed at him. Aloud she said, "I'll go straight back to Rex as soon as Knight's finished chewing me out."
Six shot Knight one furious look before he left the conference room. The door slid closed behind him, locking him out. Now Holiday was on her own, and now as Six stood in the corridor, behind his shades, his brown eyes held anguish.
What is he telling her? Asking her? What is she telling him? Is she telling him she doesn't think Rex will wake up? That he will die soon? Is she giving him a scientific estimate of how long he has left to live? The thoughts were frenzied in him, he finally turned and fled the corridor but not to the silence of the infirmary, he couldn't bring himself to. He needed…sanctuary.
In the corner of his own room stood a post of raw wood with polished branches. He went to stand before it; he fought to calm his breathing. That was the first step to stilling the storm inside his heart, before he slid the katanas free from his sleeves, then flipped them open with a practised flick of his wrists.
He concentrated on the post, on the fluidity of his movements as he surged forward, thrust both blades diagonally, slanted the tips to cut the branches perfectly.
Before the wood could even begin to topple, he sliced again, catching the branches with the razor edges and then sliced again as they began to fall. Brief frenzy induced him to slice again, and then again at the falling wood. Catch the twigs with your blades, his teacher had once told him.
The pencil-sized fragments of wood hit the ground with little clicks.
He knew everyone must die. He knew not everyone would die old, that some people died distressingly young. He knew on an educated level that Rex wasn't immune to death just because Six cared. No, he told himself, it wasn't death that upset him right now. What shook him to his core was that he had never thought to say goodbye. He was awake, I got given a last chance to say goodbye and I never thought about it.
I watched Holiday battle to save his life all week, ever since that EVO incident.
Really, to Six, Rex's last words, the last words that really stayed with him had been carelessly tossed out during the battle itself.
"I'll take it." I'll take the battle, I'll take the fight, I'll take the beating, I'll take the bloodshed, I'll take the coma, I'll take the death…
"No!" the word tore from Six's throat. The katanas dropped from his hands, to the floor but Six didn't hear the blades ring against the hard surface.
Please, give me some way to understand this, to come to terms with this, to be okay with this…
He heard his heart beating in his ears, drowning loud.
He abandoned his katanas and went to the closet, opened it and reached to the shelf above his suits. From there he brought down a wooden box. His heartbeat slowed miraculously, allowed a glimmer of thought, or rather a memory far more bittersweet to him.
Rex's birthday. Well, his own birthday too, not that he'd cared to mention it. The tanto. He lifted his own tanto from the box, and as he held it he remembered the wondrous expression on Rex's face as he'd held his own tanto, his birthday gift from Six.
This is its twin…he remembered what he'd told Rex as he ran his finger over the Japanese characters etched lightly into the blade. The roshido symbol for loyalty. It means, whether for good or for ill, our fates will follow the same path.
For the first time in many days, peace stole over him. He knew where he was meant to be. He put the tanto back into its box and put it back onto the shelf, then left the room, strode back to the infirmary. Whether for good or for ill, our fates will follow the same path.
There was no one in the infirmary but Rex, lying in his bed, the covers tucked in impeccably tight again. Six tugged them slightly looser before he sat down in the chair beside him. He brooded over what to say for a moment, all the while looking at the kid.
The boy in the bed didn't even look like Rex right now; his skin had a quiet, unhealthy tint behind his complexion. Six studied the boy's expression: he'd thought that comatose people always seemed to look peaceful. Instead, Rex looked…empty.
He's not comatose, Six thought. He's dying.
He'd heard the doctor. He'd read her notes. He knew the nanites were winding down, that the whole body was beginning to rely on machines to keep it going.
"I don't know if you can hear me," Six said finally. "Rex, if you die now I'll be disappointed in you because I have to believe that you will find a way to wake up. You have a lot more to do. I truly believe that."
He settled back, unable to think of anything else for now, but he laid his hand over Rex's hand, as though his touch could give Rex an anchor.
Soon the siren would ring through the base, calling the soldiers out to battle more EVOs. Knight would order Six to go with them, to do what he had always done best. Six would say no. He knew it.
And soon the rules would change. The three options would simplify to the two: kill or contain.
"Go on then, I'm ready," Holiday didn't sit down. Knight didn't bully her on that insignificant point. His heavy eyes glared. "Doctor, I am not disciplining you. I believe you already berate yourself plenty in this situation."
"Well then, may I go?" Holiday wanted to be back in her lab, or else she wanted to go back to Rex, wanted to know if he was okay.
"No. We need to discuss arrangements."
"What is there to discuss? Rex is sick. I'm wasting time—"
"Will he wake up?"
That stopped her short. Part of her would always want to immediately say, "Of course." But the scientist part of her, the biggest percentage of her, couldn't because right now, the facts were against her. "His stats need to improve," she said finally.
"Enlighten me, doctor. What is his medical status?"
"Comatose and declining," her voice fell to a whisper.
Seemingly satisfied, Knight continued. "What biologically is declining?"
"His brain activity. Heart function is declining slowly. Lung function is close to needing a ventilator."
"So everything is shutting down," Knight concluded.
"He still has a chance," Holiday said softly.
"Doctor." His eyes, the darkest of his pale features, drilled into her from his sterile room, through the screen she stood before. "We have to consider the worst case scenario. Our weapon is continuing to deteriorate. I hereby authorise you to perform an autopsy as soon as brain function reaches rudimentary function—"
An autopsy...when he's nearly brain dead...? It took a moment for Knight's meaning to truly sink in.
"Dissect him?" Holiday nearly shrieked it. "You monster!"
"Will you sacrifice the future of the world for the sentiment you keep for one boy?" Knight demanded.
Holiday strode to the screen. Her voice and her eyes were icy. "You are a jackal," she said. "He saved you, yet now when he's in trouble, you'll throw him to the dogs. Have you ever been willing to give him a chance?" Then she turned the screen off, turned on her heel and stormed from the room.
"You didn't answer me, doctor," White Knight said softly inside his room. "Would you sacrifice maybe the only chance of a cure, for the memory of a boy that may never wake up?"
He was silent and still for a moment, sitting at his desk, then his hand moved towards the phone. He dialled out for the operator. "I need the number for a Dr Rudy Fell," he said quietly. He looked at his pale fingers as he waited for the number, then he approved it. Moments later, he listened to the dull ring of a phone line, and then an old, wary and tired voice answered. "Who is this?"
Knight looked at the profile on his computer screen. He'd scrutinised the details on it earlier. "I hear you've struggled to find a new job," Knight said.
"You." The voice was rich with bitterness. "Yes. How do you know?"
"It's my job to know. Would you be interested in an assignment that would earn you…recognition for something potentially revolutionary?"
"Yes." The man's answer was immediate, edged with a rasp.
"Maybe it'll even give you closure," White Knight's voice turned musing. "The boy was your fall from grace after all. So yes…make your way here, doctor. I'll be waiting."
The phone call ended. White Knight closed his eyes, feeling the stain on his soul deepen. Years confined inside this office except for the rare expeditions he could take in that accursedly complicated nanite-free suit had left him far too much time to think, to regret, to consider. He had been a man of action, now he was a man of decisions.
From a soldier he had become a general, without a single desire for such a promotion. He felt removed from the fight, like someone had come and tied his hands behind his back. Back when Van Kleiss had stormed the base, he'd gained the brief satisfaction of kicking the hell out of Biowulf.
He'd only wanted to keep his own life in his own hands, not the lives of the whole world, and now in his head, out of all the lives that he had to think about, Rex stood out the most. They won't be dissecting a monster, but something that looks like a boy.
He needed relief from the grim thoughts. He turned his thoughts back to other duties, began reviewing lists of new graduates from Basic, their skills, abilities and resisted the eventual conclusion that they may just be cannon fodder.
Even Rex may be just cannon fodder now, he thought. No, maybe not even that. Maybe Rex was just a lab rat now.
In a house many miles from Providence, a man packed a bag with only the essentials. His hands shook as he tried to close the bag. His fingernails needed trimming. He cursed them soundly and went out to the hallway and from there to the bathroom. He grabbed a pair of clippers clumsily and his fingers shook as he clipped off the ragged edges of his nails. They hit the sink basin like rain.
He raised his face to the mirror. His mouth was hooked with pain and continual exhaustion. There was a pale tinge under the man's skin. He was sick. Now more pain bit through his stomach. An acidic taste sprung to his tongue, and then a metallic one as he bit his tongue against the pain continuing to gnaw its way through to his back.
It's meant to be, he thought, gritting his teeth painfully. This…is a sign.
He looked down at his fingers. They'd been clever fingers, delicate and deft. Now though they were getting clubbed. Worse, the fingernails were growing again. He snarled a curse, clipped them again then pulled the medicine cabinet open so fast that it broke off its cheap hinges. He dropped it to the floor, cautioned himself but grabbed the brown medicine bottle of pills. He gulped one of them down, clipped the fingernails as they started to grow again, he shuddered as they finally stopped their vile trickery.
"What will I become?" He hissed to his reflection. How long before the man in me gives way to the monster?
He had a chance for answers now. Dissect the boy, get the answers. The cure. He'd seen the boy in action less than a week ago. He'd hidden beside the window as soon as it had got too much, watching the boy beat the EVO on the road outside.
Now he grabbed the bag and ran from the house, slamming the door shut. The careful man in him would have doublechecked that the door was definitely shut, but that was drowned out by the need to be a man again, not a monster. Well, not an EVO.
He got into his car, started it up and backed out onto the road, the suspension jolting over the cracks that were still in the road.