Disclaimer: This work is based on James Cameron's Dark Angel. The characters that you recognise from the show do not belong to me and I am not making any money off this fic.
Chapter Ten
"What is that on your head?"
I am woken by Becca standing over me. Her hands are on her hips and her piggy face is scrunched up in a grimace. I yawn and stretch, amazed that I appear to have had the best sleep since I arrived here.
"I asked you a question," Becca spits, still doing her best impression of an angry X5. I glance around the room to see the others watching me. "It's a towel," I mutter. "I washed my hair last night."
Lori's eyes are raking over my face and Trish looks both confused and disgusted. Only Olga seems uncomfortable at the tension in the room. I stand up to leave but Becca steps in front of me.
"Where did you get it?" she asks, her tone demanding and superior.
My heart pounds in my chest. I don't want to fight with her because I know I won't win. I feel my cheeks heat with humiliation and wish that I was still alseep, that this is all just a nasty dream. Things were supposed to be better for me today, I even slept well. Why do they have to ruin it?
"A friend gave it to me," I mumble, lowering my eyes in a gesture that I instinctively know as a submission. I pull the towel of my head, wearing it makes me feel stupid and I hold it out to Becca. "You can have it." I stutter. She looks as though I've just offered her a dead animal I found on the ground. Her lips curls in disgust and I push past her and break into a run, not stopping until I'm sure I'm not being followed.
When I find a safe place, I hide, but I don't cry.
I turn up late for my mentoring appointment with Hope. She's not there. I'm greeted by a note stuck to the door that instructs me to go to her room instead.
Her grin fades as she sees my expression. "You don't like the hair?" she asks, though her tone tells me that she believes she's not even close to what the problem really is.
"I like the hair," I say, forgetting for a moment that I haven't even seen it yet. I can tell by the weight of it that it's still long though a good few inches of split ends fell victim to Hope's creative expression. I know I'll like anyway. Hope delights in beautiful things and so I know it won't be anything less.
"Then what's up?" she asks, stretching her legs out in front of her and leaning back against the wall.
Sun shines far to brightly through the window. It rests on her twelve thousand dollar boots and turns the little white flowers, yellow. I feel angry because I still don't know how she paid for them. Even Zack knows and you would think that since she at least seemed to like me, that I would have more right to know than him.
"Why won't you tell me the truth?" I ask, not even bothering to hide the bitterness in my voice. Hope seems to know immediately what I am talking about. She sighs and for the first time since I've met her, she seems tired. She seems weary.
"I'm not trying to keep secrets from you, Beth," she says. If her words sound rehearsed it's because we've had this discussion too many times before. "I'm trying to keep you innocent for just a little while longer. You don't realise what a gift it is to not realise how fucked up this world is."
It's the same excuse she always uses but it still seems so unfair to me. She gives me a weighted stare, just daring me to attempt to carry on the conversation. I don't. Instead, I do what I always do and back down.
"Listen," she says and I wonder if she might carry on the converstation herself but she doesn't. "I might not be available for the next few days. I have something coming up, something that I can't get out of, so it's best if you don't come round here for a few days."
I nod. I think I've just ruined everything. I pushed her too far and now she's realised that I'm just an annoyance that she can do without.
She ducks her head so she can see my face, which is currently focused on the floor. "It's only for a few days," she says with a chuckle. "We can hang out afterwards."
After a few more moments of her trying to convince me that I haven't lost my only friend here and me trying not to cry, I leave feeling worse than I did before.
The next morning I have class and I think that only getting hit at every point on my body by a uzi spray shot would be less painful.
I've come to the conclusion that the real reason Shayna doesn't teach us anything is because she's so stupid she doesn't know anything. I hate her, I hate my classmates and I could cry for it. I sit through the whole class not listening to a word that comes out of Shayna's dumb mouth. I'm so hungry that my stomach hurts and rations aren't expected for another three days, if they come at all.
Hope's beauty tricks have done nothing to make me more accepted among my peers, so that makes Cosmopolitan a liar too. It's only near the end of a class when I have an idea. Hope wont tell me what I want to know but she's not the only one with the information I require. I allow myself a few seconds to appreciate my smarts and cunning but no more than that. Pride often comes before a fall, I've heard it said.
As soon as Shayna gives the order to leave, I put my plan into action.
Getting close to Max is like trying to assassinate the President. Both are near impossible. It's only when someone recognises me, from the last time I visited base to meet Hope, am I allowed through the doors that lead to the command center.
She looks up at me from the papers she is reading over, along with everyone else in the room. Zack is glowering as usual and Jondy just rolls her eyes and mutters something about security. Max looks at me expectantly.
"I've....Can I, uh, have a word...with you?" I stutter, stupidly. Max looks confused and then with a shrug, rises to her feet. She leads me into a tiny room decorated only by a broken table and three dirty chairs. I almost don't even want to sit on them.
"Why is Hope...," I pause and consider my words. There's no point getting answers to the wrong questions. I take a deep breath to curb my intimidation."When you all make hints about who Hope is and what she's done... I think I should know what you mean. She won't tell me, but I think I should know."
Max sighs and rubs at her eyes. She's very beautiful although her beauty is more exotic where Hope's is more doll like, and the tiredness in Max's face is more pronounced. I feel nervous. I really don't want her to yell at me because that would be very humiliating. "Look, it's really not my place to tell you things that Hope wants kept private."
She must notice my deflation because she explains further. "The truth is, most of us don't even know all the facts ourselves. Hope is very good at showing you only what she wants you to see."
I notice some affection and admiration in her voice that surprises me. Hope has never seemed particularly close to, or liked by, her siblings but Max is a leader and maybe it's her job to like everyone.
She leans back in her chair. "You two seem pretty close."
I nod. "She's my friend." That should explain everything, I think and it seems to because she doesn't explore any further. She bites her lip and I really wish she hadn't because that look of indecision is not something you ever want to see on the the face of your saviour.
Knowing that Max is all too human terrifies me.
I don't push for more information because I know Max won't give any. Whether she likes Hope or not, she's decided to remain loyal to her and now I'm back to square one. Before I leave, I request extra shifts in the infirmary because if I have to spend one more day listening to Shayna or thinking about Hope then I may suffer a severe mental breakdown.
Max puts me in for more than I expected. Apparently, one of the senior medics is otherwise engaged and won't be available for a while.
Maybe it's something in the water.
I wake up before dawn with a dull pain in my back. It takes everything I have just to lift my arm. I search my mental database for a list of ailments or diseases that fit my symptoms but find nothing. I decide to go down to the infirmary and get an assessment but as I stand, I feel a rush of heavy liquid between my legs. A quick check informs me that it is blood. I almost faint at the sight of it.
I follow my first instinct, which is to run and find Hope but I override it. She has expressly forbidden me to go near her place for a few days though a little part of me hopes that she will feel some remorse if I die and she wasn't there. I stick with my original plan and hurry to the infirmary.
The infirmary is not what you would expect from the name. It isn't bright and airy. It isn't even clean, although it's the cleanest area in Terminal City. From what I gather, it used to be an old function or meeting room but now, it is just a big, dark, stuffy space.
It's not especially packed today. Perhaps because there hasn't been a supply run in nearly a week and our superior psysiologies keep most illnesses and diseases at bay. There's an X6 holding a wet towel over a bloody nose and a pregnant X5 who looks close to bursting. Stuffed in the corner, on a makeshift gurney consisting of a broken table and and old curtain, is a nomlie. He complains to no one in particular about the lack of heat facilities and I dislike him almost immediately.
Yes, I know the lack of heat makes his type weary but it's not like it will kill him. He should be grateful that's he's better off than most here, where people are starving and wasting away. I mean, not all of us can catch flies with our tongue, and some of us don't want to, but it's important to keep your priorities in check and not overdramatise the situation.
"Beth?"
I heave a sigh of relief as I hear Merle's voice. I know my problem is serious and should be checked out but the specifics are still quite embarrassing. Although she intimidates me, Merle is someone I know and someone that Hope trusts completely. She puts her hand on my shoulder and leads me to a small, cramped room. Her long, snow white hair is pinned in a bundle to keep it out of the way while she works.
"I think I might have a severe illness, possibly a fatal one," I wail quietly. "I'm bleeding heavily."
Merle's gives me a once over. "Where?"
I am quite sure that my face is bright red. I know it is simply another body part, or it should be at least, but after reading an issue of Cosmopolitan and hearing about boyfriends, it seems like so much more. I feel ashamed for some reason I can't quite define. I look down, willing Merle to decode my silent message and not ask me any further questions.
To my surprise, she smiles and gives a little chuckle. "Come on," she says, taking me under the elbow. "Lets get you some fresh camis and we'll have a little talk."
