Disclaimer: No I still don't own Dark Angel!
Notes: Goodness! I've spent forever on this chapter! I put it off for a while because I wasn't quite sure where I wanted to go with it quite yet. But when I went to actually write it, it proved to be nothing but trouble. I'm ever so glad it's just done (until it's time to write the next one!) for now so I can get back to reality. Happy reading!
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-
...The Unspoken...
...by Plastic Female Plaything...
...plasticteenprototype@earthlink.net...
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-
Her life in the forest is difficult to bear at times. Sometimes she, in the beginning days of the cell, would fear that the food would not come in time and she would die. As she laid upon her mat, she would think about what would happen if the food did not come. Would she pass away, even less than skin and bones? Would she shrink to oblivion? How long would it be before they realized that life no longer existed within her? Sometimes it came only just in time, when she was certain that all hope was lost to her; she was almost to weak to feed herself, and it was this that caused fear to take hold of her with biting, relentless fingers. In the subsequent cell- days, she was not possessed by any anxiety. Food always came, sometimes too soon, sometimes not soon enough. She almost embraced the absences in nourishment, for when the pains of hunger eat away at your insides, you never tire of thoughts of food. There can be no monotony, for every moment spent is a struggle.
The point is, however, that the food always came. It was always provided to her. Even after Manticore, her role hadn't been one of the provider. The two male's had always seen to her well being. No, she was purely dependent on another for everything. Everything was provided to her, and yet such terrible things were expected of her in return. She had always been at the mercy of another. So, it was a shock worst of all to see to the task of maintaining her herself. What did she know of food? Food at Manticore had come on clacking, clanking dishes and trays. Food on the outside, the food that the two males had brought her, had been contained in noisy outer wrappings. When she first saw them, she thought that the packaging was meant to be consumed as well. The two males had emphatically assured her otherwise. She would have rather killed herself than attempt to seek out Manticore to see if any of it still stood and she knew not where the two males had acquired the noisy food.
The two males. She had remembered from the sparse teachings that they had bequeathed upon her before her captivity, that is was a custom of those on the outside of the walls to bury their dead beneath the ground. She thought that the custom was an anomalous one, but preferable to what they might do to you after loss of life in Manticore. She knew sensation of the flesh was not possible after death, but it still seemed unbefitting for the doctors to cut the victims of deaths so, doing their horrid test to see what went "wrong". So she came to a decision concerning the disposal of the two males. All of the former inhabitants of Manticore were a part of this outside world now. Yes, she thought. I will give them the after death of an outsider.
It took her a long time to dig the grave. She had no tools to with which to scrape away at the earth underfoot, save her own bony fingers.
It was so very irrevocable, laying her former liberators in the shallow void she had dug. She stared for a long while at their pale upturned faces, their wide sightless eyes which had once looked at her with such compassion. She knew that their skin was cold as ice now and that time would eat away at their flesh until only bones remained. Bones under the ground. Under the dirt. Dirty bones. Maybe some curious person would find them one days and wonder about them.
Who were they, the curious person would think. Why are they here?
Will this curious person think of her? The one who killed them?
Death. Must she always be the bringer of it?
Handfuls of mud fell on those expressionless faces until she could no longer see them. She mounded dead leaves onto the freshly turned earth until this location could not be distinguished from any other in the forest. Part of her wished to mark this place of death so that she might return one day. The other, more reasonable side of her knew that a marked grave would lead to a discovery that came to far to quickly. Two groups of bones in a shallow grave would raise questions, but two fresh bodies with distinguishable barcodes on the backs of their necks would give answers. It was a small chance that someone might find them in time to identify them, yet it was one that she could not take. She did not tarry long after the task was completed. Her goodbye's had already been spoken. It made no sense to her to stay. To stay would mean to long for something that would never ever be again. Instead, she took solace in the immensity of the forest. It was her only comfort in life. She had thought color would be a great reassurance to her once it returned, but it was not. All that it did was serve as a reminder that two she had cared for greatly were dead by her hands.
Her hands had seen much blood. Her only fear was that they would see it again.
After she had gotten what she felt to be a sufficient distance away, it became apparent to her that she must learn to take on the role of the provider… and quickly. She counted three day lengths past since her last meal. It was another day-length passed before her desperation drove her to kill the small, furred creature and consume its flesh. Its taste was vile in her mouth; she had no method with which to cook it. Yet, it was her only source of food and it did not scream in her mind. So she hunted these small creatures and searched for a fresh source of water.
Time had also been a thing she once looked forward to, but no longer did it seem such a precious singularity. She lost track of the days. It seemed a time long ago when the measurement of the day with the rising and setting of the sun was an event worth remembering. It was a time of healing and learning for her. She ate food and drank water every day. What a luxury! Her eyes improved daily. She took no pleasure in the colors of things true enough, yet sight was a still treasured when you must seek out your own food every day. The atrophy of her muscles did not heal so quickly and naturally as her eyesight. After she had eaten and bathed every day, she would mimic the movements and exercises she remembered from her days before the cell. In the nighttime she climbed a tree, positioned herself so that she would not fall from its branches if she should drift off during the course of the darkness. Night was a time for rest. Rest was good. Even if she did not need to sleep that night, she still enjoyed sitting in the tree during the nighttime. It was peaceful.
Time passed this way. She was content. It was not the happiness of before, nor was it the helpless rage of the far past. She was content. Content. She was content. But content was an emotion that went best hand in hand with a small amount of happiness. And of this she had none.
Oh, how she wished for happiness!
She didn't like to think of the impending future, for she knew that she could not pass the rest of her life as it was now. She didn't like to think of it, but she knew this was only a temporary way of life.
People. She had been without human interaction for so very long that her current prolonged period of self induced social isolation seemed natural. But she could not forget the joy on the smaller's face when she made mouth- words with him. It made her long to make mouth-words with another. Maybe it was not so much the mouth-words, for she had never cared to use them often. Maybe it was the companionship she longed for. There is something entirely different about being alone and saying nothing and being with another and saying nothing. She found the latter to be preferable.
She sat underneath the sleeping tree one day that held a sweet warm breeze brushing against her. Such days were becoming an opulent delight. The weather was poor and was becoming increasingly worse with every passing day. Another sign she ignored telling her than she must seek a true refuge.
She thought about her harsh, rasping voice. She thought about how she might heal this, like her eyes and her still fragile body. She could not bring herself to speak aloud to the forest, such a waste of words she could never abide by. No, she would not waste words in such a manner. But what could she do?
Sing, her mind whispered. You could sing.
Panic seized her. No! Never! Never would she sing again. For her, to sing was now an anathema. It was something never to be thought of. Under any circumstances. Yet, perhaps the songs had not died entirely within her; she did think of them after all. Yes, oh yes. They were still there. She remembered every word, every melody, and every emotion that flowed in her blood as she sang. She wondered how she could have ever forgotten such a thing. This knowledge did not make her happy, however. She shook to remember such things. She could almost feel the dark minded man echoing within her. She forced away any thoughts of mouth-noise and people and leaving the forest and most of all the songs she still felt within her with such a rage that she shocked herself at times.
This fleeting relapse was enough, however to signify the death of her content. Now she became troubled. Every moment she was tormented with thoughts of finding others. Finding a true shelter. She knew now to cast away her number name and never let another know it. Desperation drove her, as it had so many times before. A place, she imagined. A place where she would always be warm and dry. A place where she could always find food and when she did it would not sit heavy in her stomach. A place where she might have another to exchange mouth-words with to strengthen her voice. It became a powerful obsession for her. Soon she didn't even feel guilty for thinking of this long imagined good place.
What had happened before would not happen again, she told herself. Caution. She knew that she must take caution. With caution and the knowledge that hindsight had gifted her with she knew her good place was within reach. I will triumph, she thinks. I must.
It was raining in soft pitter-patters, little drip-drip-drips filtering through the leaves and branches of the trees that made up her home, the day that she set to find her good place. She knew not how she long she wandered before she found a road. A road she knew. There had been roads in and around Manticore and she knew very well what cars were. She wasn't quite sure why or how she knew this road would lead her to the good place; all she knew was that it was her best hope to find it. If anything, it deserved a chance. She walked down the road. It would do her no good to run in this weather with everything being as slippery as a fish's scales. It was beginning to grow dark and the intensity of the rain was only increasing with its pitter-patters, little drip-drip-drips becoming harsh PITTER- PATTERS, large drip-drip-drips. She'd been walking for only a small while with the rain painfully hard against her hunched back when the car came.
It slowed down behind her as not to hit her. For this she was grateful. For the loud, offensive "honking" noise she was not. She would not move! Let this car move instead. She did not look back. She only continued her steady, plodding pace onward. She would not let this foolish person affect her! She knew not why this was so important to her, why she let her first encounter with another person (something long looked forward to) become dismissed so easily as a cause for annoyance, for anger.
She was forced to respond when the car swerved suddenly to drive slowly beside her, the window rolled down and she was addressed from within.
"Are you always this stubborn?"
What a strange question to ask her! Most would simply drive around her, she imagined. She wasn't entirely acquainted in the customs of driving a car, but to ask such a question of her seemed odd. Yet, she preferred it to any other thing this person might have done, so she thought back in her life as to best answer the question truthfully. "Yes," she divulged, still not looking into the face of the speaker.
Pause.
"Do you need a ride?"
A ride. A chance to get out of the cold rain and reach a destination faster than she ever could walking or even running. Such thoughts of the speaker as originally had must be put aside, she thought. This opportunity could not be passed up. She could easily defend herself if the occasion called for it. To be out of the cold would be best.
"Yes," she said, looking now into the face of the male addressing her. His mind-noise told her that he meant her no ill will.
"Get in then."
She walked around to the other side of the car and pressed her hands against the door in search of the handle. Upon finding it, she pulled it open and slid into the car. She shut the door behind her and turned to face the driver. The car lurched in forward motion.
"Where are you headed?"
She saw no reason not to answer truthfully, so she did.
"Some place warm… with people," she added as hastily as her long unused vocal chords would allow. She could not bring herself to mimic this male's sharp bark of laughter that followed her words.
"What's your name?"
Panic seized her with sharp fingers. Calm came only when she learned from his mind-noise that it was not her number-name he sought. Again her answer was truthful. She would lie if she must, but she saw no reason to hide anything when no danger was present.
"I do not have one."
His mind-noise grew loud within her. It was suspicious. She didn't understand. She had given him no reason to suspect her. Of anything! Was the possession of a name so important? If so, or even if not, she decided to come upon the possession of one once she found and settled in her good place. She had to concentrate very closely to divine the cause of his suspicion. Her eyes widened as she discovered the cause.
"Oh!" she exclaimed with out thinking. "You are as I am," she stated slowly, to clarify. No reason to hide it. Just so long as she did not tell him her number-name.
He became all smooth, slippery words then. She almost laughed. Foolish. He did not know there was no way to hide the truth from her.
"And what's that?"
She reached over. When he realized it was her intention to touch him, he caught her wrist within his grasp. She let him. Her she looked at him, and she urged him with soft eyes and soft facial features to trust her. He loosened his grip, enough so that she could slide her wrist through his loose fingers and touch the back of his neck where his barcode was. She then touched her own with her other hand and made a small smile at him to indicate her meaning. She was as he was. She removed her hands and looked away. No words were necessary. He looked back to the road, cursed loudly as he readjusted the car so it was again following the path that the road had ordained and the spell cast upon them both was broken. His sarcastic comment only confirmed what they both knew. Broken and not to return.
"Another freak out of the zoo, eh?"
Although she did not quite understand exactly what was meant by those words, she responded with "Yes," anyway.
They drove in a silence of mouth-words, and she chose not to concentrate on his mind-noise, instead concentrating on making some mind-noise of her own.
@@@
"This is as far as I can take you."
She awoke suddenly. Asleep? Had she fallen asleep? She quickly counted. It had been two days since her last sleep. Had she known the true extent of her fatigue she would have slept before she set out on her journey.
"What is this place?" she asked in wonder. Never had she seen such a place before! Could this be her good place?
"This? This is Seattle."
What a world! She opened the car door, eager to see more of this new place. She stepped out of the car. It was very late and few people where still roaming the streets, but to her they were more than she had seen in a very long time. She walked away, touching this and that to make sure it was all real, not a dream. The driver watched her walk away, her expression of amazement included. His mind-noise told her that something was missing from their encounter. Yes. He was right. She must rectify this.
"Thank you!" she called out to him.
"Yeah, whatever." His mouth-noise said it meant nothing, but his mind-noise spoke differently. She made a bright smile at him, knowing that this simple acknowledgement of a service done was something not often received so openly as she gave them.
Now she would satisfy her own mind's curiosity. She needed a little something to remember this person and his kind act to a stranger by.
"What is your name?" she asked hesitantly. Asking questions was something foreign to her, but her apprehension was brief for he answered promptly.
"Alec."
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-
To be continued…
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-
As always I'd like to thank the people who reviewed, the only thing that got me through the horrendous time I had finishing this chapter. So thank you motorcycle_angel, IzzyB, LeaAnn681, Liz, the raven, Vivian Kain (glad I inspired you! Gee, that's a first for me. :p) and especially logan's stalker. Your review was very well placed (right in the middle of my slump!) and was forceful enough to fire my obsession the last couple of days to get things think done. Thanks all! Also thanks to TSPWDE for bragging about her number of reviews to me *giggle*, yet another contributing factor for me to get this thing out fast than it otherwise would have come. Thank you all once again and have a nice day.
Notes: Goodness! I've spent forever on this chapter! I put it off for a while because I wasn't quite sure where I wanted to go with it quite yet. But when I went to actually write it, it proved to be nothing but trouble. I'm ever so glad it's just done (until it's time to write the next one!) for now so I can get back to reality. Happy reading!
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-
...The Unspoken...
...by Plastic Female Plaything...
...plasticteenprototype@earthlink.net...
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-
Her life in the forest is difficult to bear at times. Sometimes she, in the beginning days of the cell, would fear that the food would not come in time and she would die. As she laid upon her mat, she would think about what would happen if the food did not come. Would she pass away, even less than skin and bones? Would she shrink to oblivion? How long would it be before they realized that life no longer existed within her? Sometimes it came only just in time, when she was certain that all hope was lost to her; she was almost to weak to feed herself, and it was this that caused fear to take hold of her with biting, relentless fingers. In the subsequent cell- days, she was not possessed by any anxiety. Food always came, sometimes too soon, sometimes not soon enough. She almost embraced the absences in nourishment, for when the pains of hunger eat away at your insides, you never tire of thoughts of food. There can be no monotony, for every moment spent is a struggle.
The point is, however, that the food always came. It was always provided to her. Even after Manticore, her role hadn't been one of the provider. The two male's had always seen to her well being. No, she was purely dependent on another for everything. Everything was provided to her, and yet such terrible things were expected of her in return. She had always been at the mercy of another. So, it was a shock worst of all to see to the task of maintaining her herself. What did she know of food? Food at Manticore had come on clacking, clanking dishes and trays. Food on the outside, the food that the two males had brought her, had been contained in noisy outer wrappings. When she first saw them, she thought that the packaging was meant to be consumed as well. The two males had emphatically assured her otherwise. She would have rather killed herself than attempt to seek out Manticore to see if any of it still stood and she knew not where the two males had acquired the noisy food.
The two males. She had remembered from the sparse teachings that they had bequeathed upon her before her captivity, that is was a custom of those on the outside of the walls to bury their dead beneath the ground. She thought that the custom was an anomalous one, but preferable to what they might do to you after loss of life in Manticore. She knew sensation of the flesh was not possible after death, but it still seemed unbefitting for the doctors to cut the victims of deaths so, doing their horrid test to see what went "wrong". So she came to a decision concerning the disposal of the two males. All of the former inhabitants of Manticore were a part of this outside world now. Yes, she thought. I will give them the after death of an outsider.
It took her a long time to dig the grave. She had no tools to with which to scrape away at the earth underfoot, save her own bony fingers.
It was so very irrevocable, laying her former liberators in the shallow void she had dug. She stared for a long while at their pale upturned faces, their wide sightless eyes which had once looked at her with such compassion. She knew that their skin was cold as ice now and that time would eat away at their flesh until only bones remained. Bones under the ground. Under the dirt. Dirty bones. Maybe some curious person would find them one days and wonder about them.
Who were they, the curious person would think. Why are they here?
Will this curious person think of her? The one who killed them?
Death. Must she always be the bringer of it?
Handfuls of mud fell on those expressionless faces until she could no longer see them. She mounded dead leaves onto the freshly turned earth until this location could not be distinguished from any other in the forest. Part of her wished to mark this place of death so that she might return one day. The other, more reasonable side of her knew that a marked grave would lead to a discovery that came to far to quickly. Two groups of bones in a shallow grave would raise questions, but two fresh bodies with distinguishable barcodes on the backs of their necks would give answers. It was a small chance that someone might find them in time to identify them, yet it was one that she could not take. She did not tarry long after the task was completed. Her goodbye's had already been spoken. It made no sense to her to stay. To stay would mean to long for something that would never ever be again. Instead, she took solace in the immensity of the forest. It was her only comfort in life. She had thought color would be a great reassurance to her once it returned, but it was not. All that it did was serve as a reminder that two she had cared for greatly were dead by her hands.
Her hands had seen much blood. Her only fear was that they would see it again.
After she had gotten what she felt to be a sufficient distance away, it became apparent to her that she must learn to take on the role of the provider… and quickly. She counted three day lengths past since her last meal. It was another day-length passed before her desperation drove her to kill the small, furred creature and consume its flesh. Its taste was vile in her mouth; she had no method with which to cook it. Yet, it was her only source of food and it did not scream in her mind. So she hunted these small creatures and searched for a fresh source of water.
Time had also been a thing she once looked forward to, but no longer did it seem such a precious singularity. She lost track of the days. It seemed a time long ago when the measurement of the day with the rising and setting of the sun was an event worth remembering. It was a time of healing and learning for her. She ate food and drank water every day. What a luxury! Her eyes improved daily. She took no pleasure in the colors of things true enough, yet sight was a still treasured when you must seek out your own food every day. The atrophy of her muscles did not heal so quickly and naturally as her eyesight. After she had eaten and bathed every day, she would mimic the movements and exercises she remembered from her days before the cell. In the nighttime she climbed a tree, positioned herself so that she would not fall from its branches if she should drift off during the course of the darkness. Night was a time for rest. Rest was good. Even if she did not need to sleep that night, she still enjoyed sitting in the tree during the nighttime. It was peaceful.
Time passed this way. She was content. It was not the happiness of before, nor was it the helpless rage of the far past. She was content. Content. She was content. But content was an emotion that went best hand in hand with a small amount of happiness. And of this she had none.
Oh, how she wished for happiness!
She didn't like to think of the impending future, for she knew that she could not pass the rest of her life as it was now. She didn't like to think of it, but she knew this was only a temporary way of life.
People. She had been without human interaction for so very long that her current prolonged period of self induced social isolation seemed natural. But she could not forget the joy on the smaller's face when she made mouth- words with him. It made her long to make mouth-words with another. Maybe it was not so much the mouth-words, for she had never cared to use them often. Maybe it was the companionship she longed for. There is something entirely different about being alone and saying nothing and being with another and saying nothing. She found the latter to be preferable.
She sat underneath the sleeping tree one day that held a sweet warm breeze brushing against her. Such days were becoming an opulent delight. The weather was poor and was becoming increasingly worse with every passing day. Another sign she ignored telling her than she must seek a true refuge.
She thought about her harsh, rasping voice. She thought about how she might heal this, like her eyes and her still fragile body. She could not bring herself to speak aloud to the forest, such a waste of words she could never abide by. No, she would not waste words in such a manner. But what could she do?
Sing, her mind whispered. You could sing.
Panic seized her. No! Never! Never would she sing again. For her, to sing was now an anathema. It was something never to be thought of. Under any circumstances. Yet, perhaps the songs had not died entirely within her; she did think of them after all. Yes, oh yes. They were still there. She remembered every word, every melody, and every emotion that flowed in her blood as she sang. She wondered how she could have ever forgotten such a thing. This knowledge did not make her happy, however. She shook to remember such things. She could almost feel the dark minded man echoing within her. She forced away any thoughts of mouth-noise and people and leaving the forest and most of all the songs she still felt within her with such a rage that she shocked herself at times.
This fleeting relapse was enough, however to signify the death of her content. Now she became troubled. Every moment she was tormented with thoughts of finding others. Finding a true shelter. She knew now to cast away her number name and never let another know it. Desperation drove her, as it had so many times before. A place, she imagined. A place where she would always be warm and dry. A place where she could always find food and when she did it would not sit heavy in her stomach. A place where she might have another to exchange mouth-words with to strengthen her voice. It became a powerful obsession for her. Soon she didn't even feel guilty for thinking of this long imagined good place.
What had happened before would not happen again, she told herself. Caution. She knew that she must take caution. With caution and the knowledge that hindsight had gifted her with she knew her good place was within reach. I will triumph, she thinks. I must.
It was raining in soft pitter-patters, little drip-drip-drips filtering through the leaves and branches of the trees that made up her home, the day that she set to find her good place. She knew not how she long she wandered before she found a road. A road she knew. There had been roads in and around Manticore and she knew very well what cars were. She wasn't quite sure why or how she knew this road would lead her to the good place; all she knew was that it was her best hope to find it. If anything, it deserved a chance. She walked down the road. It would do her no good to run in this weather with everything being as slippery as a fish's scales. It was beginning to grow dark and the intensity of the rain was only increasing with its pitter-patters, little drip-drip-drips becoming harsh PITTER- PATTERS, large drip-drip-drips. She'd been walking for only a small while with the rain painfully hard against her hunched back when the car came.
It slowed down behind her as not to hit her. For this she was grateful. For the loud, offensive "honking" noise she was not. She would not move! Let this car move instead. She did not look back. She only continued her steady, plodding pace onward. She would not let this foolish person affect her! She knew not why this was so important to her, why she let her first encounter with another person (something long looked forward to) become dismissed so easily as a cause for annoyance, for anger.
She was forced to respond when the car swerved suddenly to drive slowly beside her, the window rolled down and she was addressed from within.
"Are you always this stubborn?"
What a strange question to ask her! Most would simply drive around her, she imagined. She wasn't entirely acquainted in the customs of driving a car, but to ask such a question of her seemed odd. Yet, she preferred it to any other thing this person might have done, so she thought back in her life as to best answer the question truthfully. "Yes," she divulged, still not looking into the face of the speaker.
Pause.
"Do you need a ride?"
A ride. A chance to get out of the cold rain and reach a destination faster than she ever could walking or even running. Such thoughts of the speaker as originally had must be put aside, she thought. This opportunity could not be passed up. She could easily defend herself if the occasion called for it. To be out of the cold would be best.
"Yes," she said, looking now into the face of the male addressing her. His mind-noise told her that he meant her no ill will.
"Get in then."
She walked around to the other side of the car and pressed her hands against the door in search of the handle. Upon finding it, she pulled it open and slid into the car. She shut the door behind her and turned to face the driver. The car lurched in forward motion.
"Where are you headed?"
She saw no reason not to answer truthfully, so she did.
"Some place warm… with people," she added as hastily as her long unused vocal chords would allow. She could not bring herself to mimic this male's sharp bark of laughter that followed her words.
"What's your name?"
Panic seized her with sharp fingers. Calm came only when she learned from his mind-noise that it was not her number-name he sought. Again her answer was truthful. She would lie if she must, but she saw no reason to hide anything when no danger was present.
"I do not have one."
His mind-noise grew loud within her. It was suspicious. She didn't understand. She had given him no reason to suspect her. Of anything! Was the possession of a name so important? If so, or even if not, she decided to come upon the possession of one once she found and settled in her good place. She had to concentrate very closely to divine the cause of his suspicion. Her eyes widened as she discovered the cause.
"Oh!" she exclaimed with out thinking. "You are as I am," she stated slowly, to clarify. No reason to hide it. Just so long as she did not tell him her number-name.
He became all smooth, slippery words then. She almost laughed. Foolish. He did not know there was no way to hide the truth from her.
"And what's that?"
She reached over. When he realized it was her intention to touch him, he caught her wrist within his grasp. She let him. Her she looked at him, and she urged him with soft eyes and soft facial features to trust her. He loosened his grip, enough so that she could slide her wrist through his loose fingers and touch the back of his neck where his barcode was. She then touched her own with her other hand and made a small smile at him to indicate her meaning. She was as he was. She removed her hands and looked away. No words were necessary. He looked back to the road, cursed loudly as he readjusted the car so it was again following the path that the road had ordained and the spell cast upon them both was broken. His sarcastic comment only confirmed what they both knew. Broken and not to return.
"Another freak out of the zoo, eh?"
Although she did not quite understand exactly what was meant by those words, she responded with "Yes," anyway.
They drove in a silence of mouth-words, and she chose not to concentrate on his mind-noise, instead concentrating on making some mind-noise of her own.
@@@
"This is as far as I can take you."
She awoke suddenly. Asleep? Had she fallen asleep? She quickly counted. It had been two days since her last sleep. Had she known the true extent of her fatigue she would have slept before she set out on her journey.
"What is this place?" she asked in wonder. Never had she seen such a place before! Could this be her good place?
"This? This is Seattle."
What a world! She opened the car door, eager to see more of this new place. She stepped out of the car. It was very late and few people where still roaming the streets, but to her they were more than she had seen in a very long time. She walked away, touching this and that to make sure it was all real, not a dream. The driver watched her walk away, her expression of amazement included. His mind-noise told her that something was missing from their encounter. Yes. He was right. She must rectify this.
"Thank you!" she called out to him.
"Yeah, whatever." His mouth-noise said it meant nothing, but his mind-noise spoke differently. She made a bright smile at him, knowing that this simple acknowledgement of a service done was something not often received so openly as she gave them.
Now she would satisfy her own mind's curiosity. She needed a little something to remember this person and his kind act to a stranger by.
"What is your name?" she asked hesitantly. Asking questions was something foreign to her, but her apprehension was brief for he answered promptly.
"Alec."
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-
To be continued…
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~- ~-~-~-
As always I'd like to thank the people who reviewed, the only thing that got me through the horrendous time I had finishing this chapter. So thank you motorcycle_angel, IzzyB, LeaAnn681, Liz, the raven, Vivian Kain (glad I inspired you! Gee, that's a first for me. :p) and especially logan's stalker. Your review was very well placed (right in the middle of my slump!) and was forceful enough to fire my obsession the last couple of days to get things think done. Thanks all! Also thanks to TSPWDE for bragging about her number of reviews to me *giggle*, yet another contributing factor for me to get this thing out fast than it otherwise would have come. Thank you all once again and have a nice day.