But I do thank those of you who've been religious about reviewing—Pari106, True Blue Healer, you guys are the best!!! And Dia—wow, that review was so eloquent, you ought to be writing your own fic, not reading mine!!! Hugs and thanks to everybody who has reviewed…please don't stop??? :-)
I'm refuse to be one of those writers who won't update unless they get
reviews, 'cuz I just think that's kind of a schlocky way to be. I won't
stoop to extorting reviews if you really don't feel like posting 'em. But
I am gonna say that I've never been so motivated to work on a story
as I have been on this one lately, and that's 112% due to you guys and
your kind words. So the more words you give me, the faster I'm likely to
return the favor…kind of a quid pro quo, y'know? ;-)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
{{Spiral}}
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 5 - Precious Illusions
I've spent so long firmly looking outside me
I've spent so much time living in survival mode
this won't work as well as the way it once did
'cuz I want to decide between survival and bliss
and though I know who I'm not, I still don't know who I am
but I know I won't keep on playing the victim
these precious illusions in my head
did not let me down when I was a kid
and parting with them is like parting with a childhood best friend
—@—@—@—@—@—
When Alec's eyes opened, he realized that he was standing in the middle of the ramp just inside Jam Pony, with no recollection of how he'd gotten there.
Wait…where did I leave my bike?
The ever-present drone of the TV in the corner was absent, the screen dark and dead. No daylight shone in through the small windows high over his head. The only illumination came from the lamp on Normal's desk, which spread out into a small pool of brilliance on the floor.
Geez, somebody's working awfully late…
He ambled over to the dispatch window, leaning his elbow on the ledge as he surveyed the echoingly empty main room. "S'up, Normal? Where is everybody?" He turned his head to regard the thin, balding man behind the counter…and froze.
It wasn't the fact that Normal was completely ignoring him that made Alec's breath seize in his chest—although that experience was unusual enough for the 'golden boy' of Jam Pony. Nor was it the fact that Normal was jotting his usual chicken-scratch notes on his own arm, with a buzzing tattoo needle.
No…what really got the X5's attention was the oversized barcode staring back at him from the vast, oily expanse of Normal's forehead.
Alec's own barcode.
As he stared at the random assortment of black lines marching across the other man's skin like a model regiment in some tiny ant army, the lines began to shift and blur, morphing…changing from a barcode ending in "494" to something else…someone else. He blinked, hard. The marks didn't go away, and his Manticore training kicked in a moment later, reminding him how to read the number.
But it wasn't a number…it was a word.
Ordinary, the barcode read.
Alec's eyes hurt just from looking at it. It taunted him in cadence with the blood pounding horribly in his ears, with promises of all the everyday human dreams and aspirations that he could never hope to hold as his own. 494 cannot be Ordinary, it sang shrilly, like the buzzing of the tattoo needle, or a whole hive of wasps, stinging his senses. You will never have a normal life… You will never be anything but a freak…
His breathing came hard and fast, and he pressed the heel of his hand to his own forehead, trying to slow the flood of emotions surging in his blood down to a trickle, but to no avail. He could only stare, wide-eyed, at the glaring black stripes laughing at him from his boss' skin…and the longer he stared, the larger and more threatening they seemed to grow. Like claws slashing at his eyeballs, ripping them from their sockets… He could only watch in terror as a single drop of sweat rolled down Normal's brow, straight down one of the widest lines, like a tear…
You are an anomaly… The World will never accept you… You will die squirming in the dust like your brother, and no one will mourn…
Alec snapped.
With an inarticulate cry of anguish and rage, he lunged across the counter to grab Normal by his faded shirtfront, dragging him from behind the desk. He whirled around and shoved the older man away, but Normal—who was definitely not ignoring him anymore—had the misfortune to stumble backwards over a protruding tree root. He fell on his butt, the leaf-strewn dirt doing little to break his fall.
Wait…where…?
Sunlight filtering through the branches high overhead only made the desperate fear on Normal's face more plain. He never said a word as he crab-walked backwards, trying to escape…
No, no escape…you can never escape it…
There was a mad, demonic light in Alec's eyes as he pounced on Normal's prone form like a savage jungle cat. He gripped the terrified man's face in one steely hand, so that his chin rested in Alec's palm, and his lips pursed out like a fish from the pressure on his cheeks.
Alec brought his own face down, until it was just inches above his victim's. "Leave…me…alone!" The words ripped themselves from the X5's throat like shards of glass. He tasted his own blood—Ben's blood—on his tongue.
With a single, vicious twist of his wrist and a sick, crunching sound,
Normal's neck snapped.
~*~*~*~*~*~
A young boy, in a grey room. The others look on in delight as he molds his hands into exotic shapes. Shadows on the wall…a butterfly flaps past. For a moment, it blocks their view of the word "duty." A flash of color in a grey room. A young girl's smile.
~*~*~*~*~*~
When Alec's eyes opened, he realized that he was standing in the entryway of Logan's apartment, with no recollection of how he'd gotten there.
Wait…
The ever-present ticketty-tick of fingertips on a keyboard was absent, the overhead lights dark. The only illumination came from the screen of a single computer monitor in Logan's office.
Geez, somebody's working awfully late…
He ambled over to the office doorway, leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb as he surveyed the airy room. "S'up, Logan? Got some big Eyes Only thing going down?" He turned his head to regard the handsome, unshaven man at the computer…and froze.
It wasn't the fact that Logan was completely ignoring him that made Alec's breath seize in his chest—it was no secret that the guy didn't much care for him. Nor was it the fact that the older man was steadily feeding uncooked spaghetti noodles into the CD drive in front of him.
No…what really got the X5's attention was the oversized barcode staring back at him from beneath the shaggy fringe of Logan's hair.
Alec's own barcode.
Then the awful black marks seemed to run like chalk drawings in the rain…changing from a barcode ending in "494" to something else…someone else.
Honorable, the barcode read.
494 cannot be Honorable, the tattoo snickered at him with terrible precision. You will never make a difference in the World… You will never be anything but a killing machine, bred to murder…
You are a worthless hunk of flesh… You are not truly alive… You slaughter without remorse because you were made to, because you have no soul…
You can never escape it…
"Leave…me…alone!"
A few moments later, Logan's lifeless corpse joined Normal's beneath
the scenic forest canopy.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Shadows on the wall. Duty beyond butterflies. A flash of color. A young girl's smile.
~*~*~*~*~*~
When Alec's eyes opened, he realized that he was standing at the bar in Crash, with no recollection of how he'd gotten there.
Sketchy stood at the pool table, lining up his shot. The pool cue to the cue ball to the eight ball, a perfectly precise line, like…
…the lines on his forehead, black as the endless spaces between the stars.
Friendly, Sketchy's barcode read, and it did not save him.
494 cannot be Friendly… You destroy everything you touch… You will die forgotten and alone…
You can never escape it…
"Leave…me…alone!"
~*~*~*~*~*~
Shadows on the wall. Color. A young girl's smile.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Responsible, Asha's tattoo chittered.
494 cannot be Responsible for anyone but itself, came the now-predictable taunt. You are useless… You can never be trusted… You are a time-bomb, a trigger waiting for a finger…
You can never escape it…
"Leave…me…alone!"
~*~*~*~*~*~
A young girl's smile.
~*~*~*~*~*~
When Alec's eyes opened, he realized that he was standing atop the Space Needle, with no recollection of how he'd gotten there.
Max, sitting in her usual position near the edge, turned to look up at him over her shoulder. His barcode on her face…shifting…becoming…
Caring, her forehead screamed soundlessly. Her eyes were soft, comforting.
His nerves jangled madly—like a guitar with broken strings, or a soul torn loose from its moorings. 494 cannot Care, cannot feel… You are a hollow shell… You cannot love… You can only hurt… You do not belong in the World…
Alec's hand clenched around her face, but the green-hued sunlight beneath the trees revealed no fear in Max's eyes. Her strength was easily a match for his own, but she did not move to fight him.
You can never escape it…
"Leave…me…alone!"
She just watched the battle raging in his eyes, a clash of titans too potent to be played out in the physical realm of the waking World. There was compassion in her gaze as she watched him struggle, and then her lips parted, speaking the first words to reach his ears since he had first opened his eyes.
"Let me help."
It was as if the sound of another human voice was a sledgehammer, and he was a pane of glass. He was cracking, flying apart, thousands of tiny slivers shattering into fragmented specks, razor edges slashing every tree, every leaf, every blade of grass into bloody ribbons. The forest fell away in shreds, like a tattered cloak, to reveal the top of the Space Needle beneath.
He let go of her face, watching as she stretched her neck slightly—a silent reprimand for pinching her fragile flesh so uncomfortably.
He watched his hands shake, and felt utterly helpless to stop the tremors that wracked him.
No more…not again…!
Without another thought, Alec turned his back on Max and threw himself
off of the top of the Space Needle, to see if he would fly…or fall.
—@—@—@—@—@—
Alec sat up with a gasp, eyes flying open in horror, breathing ragged and shaky. He clutched desperately at the sheets, and his heart skipped and thudded uncomfortably in his chest.
He was sitting in his own bed…his own room…
And he remembered getting there. Remembered leaving Joshua's house, remembered coming home, showering…going to bed.
That same fucking dream… he thought miserably. Why can't it just let me be? Why can't the World just leave me alone?
And somewhere deep inside Alec's tortured breast, a tiny spark flared...and
grew brighter.
—@—@—@—@—@—
you'll complete me, right? then my life can finally begin?
I'll be worthy, right? only when you realize the gem I am
this won't work now the way it once did
and I won't keep it up, even though I would love to
once I know who I'm not, then I'll know who I am
but I know I won't keep on playing the victim
these precious illusions in my head
did not let me down when I was defenseless
and parting with them is like parting with invisible best friends
—@—@—@—@—@—
Asha only saw the sun rise when the S1W's plans demanded it, or when her thoughts were in such turmoil that they would not let her rest.
The rest of the S1W were sleeping in this morning.
All the same, at times like this, she considered herself lucky to have found an apartment—or rather, an unoccupied tenement building to squat in—that boasted east-facing windows, because there was just nothing quite like a sunrise, for helping her sort things out 'upstairs' when they got too cluttered.
So why isn't it helping, then? A little voice spoke up mockingly in the back of her head.
She sighed heavily. The little voice was right. She got up from her seat at the window and went to make a pot of strong coffee. A draft stole into the room from beneath the closed door and caressed her skin through her thin T-shirt and sleeping shorts, making her shiver.
The problem, she thought, as she grabbed a mostly-clean mug from the counter next to the sink, is that the problem's not really in my head. It just is. And the only thing that's gonna fix it…is time.
The gas stovetop caught the flame on her second try, and she put the pot of water on it to heat. A snatch of mostly-forgotten verse floated aimlessly through her head. If we had but worlds enough, and time…
Yeah, time was the kicker, wasn't it? Always too much, or not enough. Too much time that Logan and Max spent dancing around each other…not enough time, once they figured out how they felt…too much time, once the virus arrived on the scene…not enough time, when they'd defeated it for twelve hours.
And never, ever enough time for Asha to get used to the perpetual limbo state in which they lived their relationship.
It seemed like every time she'd start to get over him, things between him and Max would always fall apart. And suddenly, her traitorous heart would start spinning all the same silken fantasies all over again—despite the sharp threats from her much-more-sensible brain—and the 'life without Logan' mosaic she'd barely begun to assemble with such care would fall entirely to pieces.
It's just not fair…
She kept trying to convince herself that wanting to be happy did not make her a horrible person. Even when it made her miserable to contemplate, she truly wished her friends every joy that life had to offer. But there was always that traitorous, selfish part of her, that couldn't help wondering what if…
What if Max just stopped loving him? Or left town?
What if they finally decided it wasn't worth the risk to his life?
What if Max finally got herself killed? For real, this time?
The instant she caught herself thinking those things, she felt awful—like she ought to wash her brain out with the really harsh lye soap the homeless guys sold on the street corners. There's just not enough happiness in this broken world to go around…
And now…now it was almost worse than before.
Because now Asha had to face the fact that it wasn't because
of Max that she couldn't be with Logan. After all, the two of them
were supposedly over. As a couple, they were done. History. Completely
kaput…
~*~*~*~*~*~
Asha shook her head, smiling humorlessly at Alec. "Spare me the drama—you're just to scared to let go and actually care about somebody."
~*~*~*~*~*~
She shook her head ruefully at that memory.
That's not quite it, she mused, frowning at the pot of water that stubbornly refused to boil. I mean, I do care about Logan…but he was always…
"Safe." She startled herself by speaking the word out loud.
It was true, she realized. She was no less petrified of getting involved in a real relationship than Alec was, but instead of pushing away anyone she might one day come to care about, she had latched on to the one person she knew she couldn't have. It was safe to love Logan, because she would never have to do anything about it…
Which, unfortunately, doesn't make it any easier to stop…
Because suddenly it wasn't so safe anymore. Oh, sure…it was still possible that he and Max would work things out, just like they had a thousand times over the last several months…but something in Asha's gut told her that this time, their break-up was the real thing. Logan said they talked, and they were both okay with it…and he sounded so sad, so…final.
She could remember a time when it had been enough just to be around him…just to earn his smiles, and hear his voice speak her name… Why couldn't it stay that way? Why did I have to get so greedy?
Why did he suddenly have to be available???
Or was she just making this all more complicated than it really was? After all, he'd never given any indication of being even the slightest bit interested in her…and why would he? There had always and only been Max, in his eyes.
Asha was startled out of her mental ramblings by the burgeoning whistle of the pot on the stove, which was bubbling merrily. It seemed to mock her apathy with its liveliness, and she suddenly decided that she definitely needed that coffee. With lots of sugar.
I can be an adult about this. No, really…!
Nothing had really changed. She still loved him, and he would still never return her affections…and she would still not demand it. The break-up was still too fresh. The last thing Logan needed was another bruise, and the last thing she wanted was to cause him one. She resolved to continue as she always had…to be exactly as much as he asked her to be, and not press for more.
Yeah, because it's just so easy to turn my feelings on and off like that… The little voice was feeling sarcastic now.
With short huff of a sigh, Asha moved back toward the window as she stirred her coffee. The sun was fully risen by now, promising another usually bright, clear day. The thin fluffs and scraps of cloud overhead had dimmed from their earlier brilliant orange to more of a dull beige…just as the cacophony between her ears had been muted down to its usual mumble.
Guess that's the most I can ask of any sunrise, she thought ruefully. Or any cup of coffee, for that matter…
…just a little more time to think.
—@—@—@—@—@—
Please review????? :-) Let me know if I did any better with Asha
this time…honestly, I feel like I just can't get a good grasp on how she
ought to think and act…other than the fact that she's always struck me
as sort of insecure…like she's got a lot more going on in her head than
she'll admit to, and isn't sure what to do about it, y'know what I mean?
Any insights anyone can give me regarding her characterization would be
much appreciated…and any other comments, too! ;-)
Coming soon!!!!!!!
Chapter 6 - Little Rejections