1459
Aleka and Elvia were lovely on their wedding day, dancing around each other without a single care in the world; he wondered when he last was free of any worry, any burden, as he watched them from the crowd that they'd gathered. Alek called out his name in a familiar timbre full of jubilation, beaming over at him with his arm outstretched.
"Join us, Jacob!" Alek laughed. It was a name he'd rushed to choose, eager to mix well into a new society when he'd moved away from Vesna's memory, but he knew that he wouldn't keep it for long. A century or two, perhaps, and then he'd pick up a new one.
Obliging, he stepped forward and locked hands with his long-time friend, with brown hair and dark eyes, and Elvia swung around to grab his left hand, small fingers flitting over his palm as she found purchase. Her pale hair seemed a ghostly color in the midday light, but her smile was lively and contagious, and before too long he was laughing with her, dancing in circles about the room as every able-bodied guest joined them in celebration.
…
Jo opened her eyes and immediately wished she had kept them closed; they were in some sort of laboratory, with various equipment set about the room-for medical use, by the looks of it.
Except—there was blood everywhere. On the floor, on the metal tables, on the tools, and splattered onto the equipment.
A man was shouting at three others, who all wore stained lab coats.
"This should have been spotless hours ago! Clean it up, now!"
He was waving his fist in the air, as if he might strike them, but at the last moment he turned away from them, giving his full attention to Jo. She groggily met his eyes and felt more uncomfortable than she had in her entire life, wrists tightly bound above her, head throbbing. She could feel a breeze graze her stomach and looked down to see that they'd left her in only her bra and underwear; feeling the immediate need to cover herself before their watchful attentions, she struggled for a moment, her toes barely touching the ground. As she woke more fully, the smell of the room assailed her senses, her eyes stinging from the overpowering chemicals in the air.
"You're awake-finally!" the man said, almost cheerfully, and clasped his hands together as he made his way toward her.
She began to shiver.
"I was worried they'd caused some permanent damage, but you are the first to wake up, so I shouldn't get my hopes up just yet," he reminded himself, tightly pressing his palms together as he watched her.
The first, Jo thought. Slowly, she managed to look over and spot Henry and Abe, in a similar position at her side, unconscious. Past them, Adam was in the same state, though there were spots on his skin that looked like bruises.
It unnerved her to see them all like that, to see reckless, brave Henry so vulnerable and defeated. To see wise-cracking Abe reduced to silence. And even to see Adam, infuriatingly untouchable, weakened.
The man must have noticed her wide eyes, or perhaps her trembling arms, because when she looked back at him, he was smiling to himself.
"Yes, I bet this is all pretty confusing-but I don't want to waste my time explaining it to you—I'll wait until the rest of them come to, so I only have to say it once."
He leaned against one of the metal tables and his hand nudged a knife; the blood was slick on the blade, dripping onto the table as if it had just been used.
"The less time I waste, the more fun we can have, but don't worry," he said, almost comfortingly, "if all goes as planned, you won't suffer long."
…
1469
Alek was lamenting, as he often did, about the absence of children in their house. He could never blame Elvia, for he loved her too dearly to ever even harbor such a thought. Alek only blamed fate and luck and destiny, becoming drunkenly disgruntled about it whenever Jacob invited Alek to drink. Or rather, when he brought the occasion to their doorstep. Yet Alek always obliged, never one to turn away his friend.
Elvia would even join in and, as scandalous as that might have been, the three had a memorable time. But night was falling, and Alek wouldn't stop imagining what his children might look like, and Elvia didn't have the willpower to persuade her husband to come to bed-though she did have the willpower to convince Jacob to stay at their house.
"Only for a night," she offered laughingly, arm slung over Alek's shoulder as she pulled him through the room.
Jacob had slept in their home far too many times to count, but something in his addled mind chided him for the easy acceptance this time.
Don't stay, it whispered to him—not tonight.
But he did, and that was the last time that he ever ignored that small, weak voice.
In fact, it was the last time that he ever heard it.
…
Adam woke to the sound of scrubbing and blinked to see several people in lab coats vigorously working at the blood on the concrete floor. The smell was what tipped him off, and he closed his eyes against the onslaught of images and sounds and sensations crawling against his skin. The scalpel blade was in his mind's eyes, Mengele's intrigued, satisfied smile not far behind.
Adam had never really gotten over his time at the camp; he had perhaps moved past that place of vulnerability, in order to be stronger, in order to survive, but he hadn't moved past the nightmares and the flashbacks. He still could hear a child scream (in joy, in surprise—it didn't matter) and think for a moment that he was back, huddled on wet straw with his hands clasped over his ears, trembling against the cold as his heart raced in fear.
Quite a few years ago, a young woman, rolling a stubbornly sobbing infant in a stroller, had touched his arm and asked if he was alright; he'd gone still and pale at the sound and hadn't noticed.
"You're looking lively over there, aren't you?" a man's voice reached past the images flashing behind Adam's eyelids, and he opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was Henry, strung up beside him in nothing but his underwear, the scar of his first death pale and puckered against the skin of his chest; he was breathing hard, likely nervous, and staring ahead of him.
Adam followed his gaze to see a man in a lab coat, leaning against a metal table; the men stood from the floor, content with their work, and rolled out several mops, buckets, and cleaning sprays as they left the room.
One person stayed behind to guard the door, it seemed: the man with the green eyes. Adam watched him for a moment longer than necessary; he'd be one of the first to die, if it ever came to that.
Adam hoped he'd be able to make good on that promise.
"I was just…admiring the scenery," Adam said finally, leveling the man at the table with a cold stare.
He noticed that Jo and Abe were similarly bound at Henry's side; the four of them made for a nice execution line, Adam thought sourly.
…
1469
Jacob was startled from sleep by the sound of Elvia screaming, his pulse racing as he jumped from the covers to rush to their room; shadows played tricks on him, moonlight shining against bodies, but he could just make out the shape of a man fighting what looked like Alek, and Elvia shouting for help in the corner, her small frame hunched in fear.
At this point, he had become nearly addicted to the rush of a fight, the touch of death's fingertips as it tried to seize him, and Alek needed his help.
It was a convenient combination, then, that he was too weak to resist, and so he hurried into the scuffle, but in the darkness it was difficult to tell friend from foe; he could be fighting the intruder one moment and hesitating in the next-it was all happening too fast, the three of them all but dancing around one another as their fists connected with flesh. Jacob was thrown to the floor and gasped for breath as someone loomed over him, but Alek tackled the man to the ground and they rolled, grappling for some kind of victory.
He remembered the sword Alek kept by the bed and quickly went to get it, turning with it in hand-just in time to see the two men coming his way, locked together as they struggled.
He had no issues with killing, either; it was something he'd learned was a necessity.
It was also quite an excitement, but he always tried to quell that part of himself, unwilling to admit that he so enjoyed such a morbidly-earned thrill.
He'd always had to fight to survive, and killing was simply a natural part of that; it was impossible to defend yourself for a thousand years without shedding blood.
The sword ran cleanly through the man, and he gasped for a moment before falling to the floor, heavy and unmoving.
Jacob went to help Alek up from where he'd been struggling, but realized that the shadows looked different on his face; a moment longer, and he felt sick, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.
He'd just killed Alek.
Sorry it's been so long since the last update-things have been craaaazy.
Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated.