Huh! So much for this being nothing but a SHORT little story… sorry for that… hope ya enjoying it anyways… (:
The past.
Not hers; well, not exactly, anyways.
Another version, and yet not much different. Not at all…
She sighs, fear and something close to – regret? – clawing at her consciousness. How can she be doing this?
But she's only a witness, right? Only following orders.
And yet it doesn't feel right.
It doesn't…
Max. Her name. Max…
She can't fight the darkness, can't fight the void filling her mind, clouding everything over.
It's as if her body is acting of its own accord, following unknown orders, making her do things she has no control over, turning her into an automaton, a soulless soldier.
No.
Too tired, too weak, her head nothing but pain, and empty blackness…
As her fingers dig deeper into soft tissue, making the other one tense underneath her paining touch, she loses the fight.
She loses…
Not many people have remained behind, guarding Terminal City, but the staff at the infirmary has, every single one getting prepared for the worst case scenario: large numbers of soldiers coming in wounded, or dying.
Or dead…
There is not much time for anything but thorough preparation, but when Med sees that pretty ordinary walk up the aisle, heading straight over to where she is standing examining some patients' files, she can't help but stare at her, wait for her to arrive.
"So, sugar, how's my girl doing? Give a girl an update here, huh," OC says, smiling, hips jutting out, red painted lips parting in a charming smile, nearly unhinging Med's poor emotional defenses.
"She doing ah-ite?"
"She is. – As far as we can tell by now. No apparent changes in her personality, no memory loss, although she really needs to stay in bed this time. No running around…"
"You don't know what you're askin', sugar. This is Max you're talking about… And her boy?"
"Her…?" Med stares at Cindy uncomprehendingly, the way the other one smiles at her making her blush involuntarily. Why, she doesn't know. Shyly, she shuffles through the papers of the files, no longer facing the pretty African American.
"Pretty Boy?" OC amends, then, finding it necessary, prompts, "Alec?"
That chick is one helluva sweety, OC can't help but think, her smile widening even more. Max is doing great, there is this fine woman right in front of her, what could be better at this very moment?
"Oh. Oh!" Med makes, slapping her own forehead, then grinning sheepishly, "He's better – he's – it's a bad wound, been quite a mess really, but he's going to be alright again. – Strong guy…"
"No shit."
"No, no shit…?" Med replies, earning a sincere smile from the other woman; and she is left to smile back at Cindy dumbly, all coherent thoughts vanishing in a haze.
There is something good about Max and Alec having been admitted back into the hospital, Mole thinks, chewing the end of yet another cigar he would never be lighting. Those two couldn't put themselves in danger here, by insisting on taking part in this mission.
Mole's mission…
He sighs silently, only Joshua close enough to notice and shoot him a worried glance.
"Mole alright?" the big fella asks, one of his oversized paws calmingly grabbing the other one's shoulder. But Mole only grumbles lowly.
No need to worry the dog-man by admitting his apprehension. He relies on Mole to be strong after all, Josh does.
Everyone does.
Mole, the tough guy, not scared by anything, not worried about anything… and anyone.
They trust him to be that man, trust him with their lives, and so he keeps his fear to himself, and the worry about what will become of them all if they should really have to fight fellow transgenics, have to kill them.
He wears his mask, chewing on his cigar so vehemently now that its protruding part drops out of his mouth and onto the ground.
He wears his mask, not allowing himself to worry about anything now, not to worry about the others' safety, about Terminal City, about Josh, about Max, and Pretty Boy...
Not about himself…
Checking his watch one last time, he raises his head defiantly, ready to take this facility down, to free those inside.
Like Max freed him.
Even in his current state, his mind clouded by some nasty drugs, Alec can still think of nicer things Max's slender hands could be doing to his bruised body.
Yup, definitely so…
Grabbing her wrists with his hands he tries to shove her away, to make her stop this.
Make her stop…
He remembers the look she gave him that day when disentangling her warm and naked body from his. A lifetime ago…
He remembers it all too clearly, is still unable to read it. Pleasure? Regret? Pain?
Fear…
The heat of her body, the touch of her moist skin.
Now of all times his mind plays this trick on him, now that her eyes are cold, and hard, and the only contact between them is that of her hand pressing down on his injured side, making him gasp, and claw at her arms.
This is not happening.
He stares up at her, disbelievingly, although her behavior isn't all that surprising, really. Manticore after all.
He stifles a laugh.
He's not gonna let them win, not gonna let them do this to Max…
… and to him.
Not anymore.
No fucking way.
It's not gonna happen.
The two women are still standing in the hallway, one shyly averting her eyes, the other scrutinizing her thoroughly, smiling all the while.
"So," Cindy finally breaks the silence, nudging the X5 next to her with a movement of her hips, "OC allowed to visit her boo now?"
"Yeah. Yes, sure, I – I'll bring you to her room…"
Huh! Med is mad at herself for sounding so… insecure all of a sudden. She's X5 after all, right? And it's not like she isn't in the middle of some really serious and dangerous operation here.
So what the hell? Why is she acting like this? Awed into behaving like a child. By an ordinary…
She can't help it, though, and following the other woman to Max's room, she suddenly stops dead when noticing that Max's bed is empty.
Again.
And by her side the ordinary's mouth falls open as she gapes at the deserted room.
They enter the fenced off area after nightfall, about 24 hours after they left Terminal City.
Their home, if ever they knew one.
Silently invading the dark territory in front of them, following orders they aren't forced to follow, they head toward the various barracks, guns at the ready, their lithe bodies weapons, too.
They know what is awaiting them, and yet they don't…
What if they really have to fight people just like themselves? Transgenics, transhumans?
Xs fighting Xs...
Nothing they have been trained for.
But whatever might be necessary to eventually free themselves of Manticore for good...
"Max," Alec says, voice even, hardly audible, yet strong.
"Don't. Do. This."
Max stares at him, out of empty eyes, her hands letting go of him, leaving him to still feel the searing echo of her touch while he tries to force his body to obey.
"Max," he calls her name although he knows she won't hear him, won't listen.
She's gone.
This woman hovers over him, undecided for a second – undecided about how best to fulfill her orders, probably, but still Alec can't quite fight the rising feeling of hope that bubbles up inside of him – despite the burning fire she caused to flame up in his side, despite that soulless stare that is distorting her beautiful features.
But when he suddenly senses her hands moving up to his throat, too close already, the soldier in him finally takes over.
As his strength is returning to him, a strength brought about by a sudden rush of adrenaline, he does what he has to do to save his sorry little life.
The place already feels hostile.
Like a slumbering beast whose silence can't quite mask its dangerousness, Solomon Industries lies ahead of Mole's troops. They are nearly there now, at the core of it, ready for attack.
Mole eventually signs for his team to follow him into the building situated right in the middle of the premises, in the middle of this enemy territory. He signs for them to follow him into the darkness of the heart of this Manticore-clone state, not knowing what is awaiting them.
Manticore is never unprepared, no subsidiary bases would ever be, not after the first of them had been taken down.
They will surely meet strong resistance.
Maybe too much of it.
Might be over soon, one way or the other.
If Mole was one for praying – for believing in any kind of God in the first place – he would pray now.
If only…
Eliminate 494, eliminate possible witnesses, report back to base, return to base…
"Shit, Max! Stop!"
Something about that. This voice, like a longed-for sound reverberating against the walls of her empty skull, echoing on and on and on...
494 is fighting her, strongly, despite being injured, despite the pressure she exerts on his wound.
The IV… She tears out the IV in a swift movement, using the tube to strangle him.
No easy task, annoying, really.
And why does her head feel like stuffed with wads of cotton? Why is her body so weak, betraying her?
Eliminate 494, eliminate possible witnesses, report back to base, return to base…
"Max! Listen the fuck to me. Max!
They don't have to search for long, the ordinary and her X5 companion.
Following her intuition, Med leads the other woman to Alec's room, the only logical place to look for Max, and there they find her, see her bent over her mate's bed in an intimate gesture, her head close to his, her body shielding his from view.
But something's off about that picture, though Med can't quite put her finger on what that would be, until she hears Cindy quietly whisper, "Is that… blood?"
Alarmed, the medic raises her head and storms into the room, not quite knowing what she's doing.
He clings to her as she clings to him, clasping her neck with his hands, while the plastic of the IV tube is incising the soft skin of his neck.
He's choking, slowly, painfully.
But so is she.
He won't let go, and neither will she.
Ridiculous, actually; if their silent fight wasn't that serious.
He stares into her expressionless eyes, daring her to return his gaze, to see…
"Elaine!"
He roars out, making her name sound like a threat, and she cringes.
"Yes, Sir?" Coming up beside him, turning her full attention to whatever his finger is tapping on this time, she furrows her brow in disbelief.
"Can you tell me what this is?"
"Sir…"
"Don't 'sir' me, Elaine; aren't we past that already? – What. Is. This."
She looks at him, struggling for words. This man can still reduce her to the little school girl she once was, the girl who's afraid of the jocks making fun of her and her cheap clothes, her geeky looks.
"Well? Cat got your tongue?"
"It – um – looks like there are some… intruders enteri-?"
He turns to face her, his expression one of disbelief. "Intruders? Elaine, one could think you haven't been working for SI the last ten years… Intruders?" he repeats, then huffs out, "Troops, more like, soldiers! – And why for chrissakes hasn't your contact informed you about that, Elaine? Haven't my instructions been clear enough?"
"No, Sir, I mean, yes, they have… I –"
She feels her blouse clinging to her skin, glued to it uncomfortably. Her informant hasn't told her anything about a planned assault on the base, has only told her that finally, finally, the bond was breaking…
And now this.
The future.
Theirs. Not hers, not really.
She's not a part of all this, and yet she is.
Now she is.
She can't do this anymore, follow orders, stupidly, unquestioningly, when all she has learned here is that kindness does indeed exist.
And love.
No breaking this bond…
The past might be just this: the past. Their past. Her past.
The past, not necessarily the future…
She can see him now, his eyes, not giving away his feelings…
His lean body, warm and taut above her, beside her, close to her. Touching her.
He is so close.
The salty taste of his lips, his skin…
It's still there, has been there all along, buried beneath the flood of pain and horror, it has never left her.
That one image.
That slightly vulnerable expression, his face frozen, and his eyes…
His eyes…
Max.
Her name…
And as his eyes are closing, his injured body finally slackening, she remembers something else…
She remembers.
For one minute longer his grip is still strong, though maybe not as strong as it would usually be, for he has lost a lot of blood after all and is still weakened after surgery.
And yet he could have taken her on. If not easily, he could still have defeated her in the end, making her relent eventually.
But for the sake of her he is giving up.
It's over.
He's giving up…
"Alec?"
Nothing but a silent whisper as Med and OC are pushing her away from him, away…
The word's echo getting lost in the commotion.
Alec…
Yup, "weird" is my middle name…
I might suffer from a boost of motivation to write more soon; you'll never know, though. We'll have to see. Truly sorry that this thing is stretching on and on and on…