This chapter was a blast to write—I love doing the wonky stream-of-consciousness stuff, 'cuz my own personal consciousness is just so warped, it's fun to experiment with just how weird I can get things to come out… ;-) Anyways, I don't want to give anything away before you read it, but be prepared for some pretty wacked-out stuff in this installment…and in case anybody gets utterly lost, there's a bit of an explanation in the Author's Note at the end. Wouldn't want anybody to go away confused (well, at least not too confused…)!!! ;-)
Oh—one other thing, that I've been meaning to mention for a while now. If anybody wants to archive this fic anywhere, that's jus' peachy with me (hey, I'm always up for more readers!!!!). The only thing I ask is, if you're actually going to re-post the text of the story on a different site (rather than just linking to it here, like I know Donna Lynn, for one, likes to do), please check with me first. Basically, all I'm going to do is insist that you keep it exactly the way it is here....complete with Author's Notes, italic text, etc.
Okay, I'll stop chattering at you now....please read and review, 'cuz
I'm interested to see what your reactions are to this wacky chapter!!!!
:-)
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{{Spiral}}
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Chapter 8 - Utopia
we'd open our arms
we'd all jump in
we'd all be heard
we'd all feel seen
we'd rise post-obstacle more defined, more grateful
we would heal, be humbled, and be unstoppable
we'd hold close and let go, and know when to do which
we'd release and disarm and stand up and feel safe
this is my utopia
—@—@—@—@—@—
"So anyway, I thought we could start by figuring out who White's media contacts are…trying to get them to listen to the transgenics' side of the…"
Logan glanced over at his fellow conspirator, and broke off his train of thought.
Asha was asleep. She lay curled up on his couch, leaning against the cushioned arm with one hand pillowing her cheek, and her legs folded off to the side.
For a moment, Logan just looked at her in bemusement. So much for getting a little work done before calling it a night, he thought ruefully. Not that he was terribly bothered…truth be told, he was rather tired, himself.
But despite his own fatigue, he took a few moments to make the blonde woman more comfortable—tucking a blanket gently around her narrow shoulders, and making sure that the blinds were shut over the windows, so the morning sun wouldn't wake her too early.
He tucked one of his mother's quilts deftly around her chin…and his fingers lingered a moment near her face. Without the constant animation that kept her face so lively when she was awake, Asha seemed somehow smaller…more delicate. Fragile, like a porcelain doll…something that would break if handled too roughly, if not treasured as she deserved to be…
Logan smiled, shaking his head at his own whimsy. But he couldn't stop himself from running one finger tenderly over the curve of her cheekbone, as he whispered, "Good night…"
She moved slightly at his touch, snuggling down into the blanket as a faint smile appeared on her lovely face.
Logan moved reluctantly away, turning back in the doorway to whisper,
"Sweet dreams," before moving into his bedroom, hoping he would have the
same.
—@—@—@—@—@—
Max coaxed the last, steaming drops from the pot in her hand into the almost-full bathtub, then turned and ran into a wall.
Well…it might have been a wall, if a wall were capable of giving her such a forbidding glare, complete with caustically arched eyebrows and impatiently crossed arms. This particular wall was actually known more casually as Original Cindy…but at that moment, she was proving just as obstructive and solidly unyielding as any edifice of steel or mortar. Those eyebrows really ought to be added to Manticore's list of Potentially Lethal Common Objects…
The erstwhile wall shook a head of curly hair at her friend. "You didn't."
Max's face betrayed not the slightest emotion, but she refused to make eye contact. "I did." She paused for a beat, then blurred slightly as she dodged around the immovable object in her path, making a break for the kitchen.
"Now, dat jus' ain't right!" OC called after her. The darker girl appeared in the bedroom doorway, leaning against the door frame and eyeing Max with a scalding glare, as she put another pot of water on the stove to heat. The silence stretched across the apartment like a taut rubber band, and Max fidgeted with the fluffy collar of her bathrobe, waiting for the inevitable.
The stillness was finally broken by Cindy's quiet sigh. "You know dat ain't right, boo."
Max shrugged quickly, nervously. "Not my fault I'm revved up," she said in a low voice, deliberately misinterpreting the other girl's comment.
OC rolled her eyes expressively. "Dat ain't what I meant, an' you damn well know it!" she shot back immediately, frustration clearly evident in her voice. "I'm talkin' 'bout you an' yo boy Alec—" She raised a hand in a no-nonsense gesture as Max's mouth opened to protest. "—an' don' you try an' tell me he ain't yo boy, 'cuz Original Cindy sick of hearin' that crap," she went on quickly. "You tell yoself whatever you want, but ain't no frontin' when you dealin' wit Original Cindy."
One long-nailed index finger locked on to Max's nose with deadly aim. "You gotta come correct on dis, boo."
Max's eyes widened as she shook her head. "Hey, this is not my fault! I went over there to talk to him—I didn't do anything to make him go off like that!" She stuck an experimental fingertip into the pot on the stove, testing the temperature. "I mean, he tried to strangle me!" she went on indignantly, wiping her finger absently on a nearby towel. "Somehow, that makes me not feel so bad about going off on him!"
"An' I bet you never once thought t' ask 'im why, did you?!" Cindy's voice was harsh, and she shook her head in disappointment. "You know you my boo, but…damn, dat's cold…"
Now it was Max's turn to sigh. "Alright, look…maybe I was a little hard on him," she said quickly, holding one hand up in surrender, as she used the other to lift the last pot of steaming water from the burner. "But, come on, this is Alec we're talking about! If a day went by where I didn't yell at him, he'd probably have a nervous breakdown or something…he'll get over it," she shrugged, hefting the sloshing pot toward the bathtub
Her roommate's only response was a silent stare of mingled hostility and skepticism.
"Come on, OC—I know you're really into this 'Voice of Max's Conscience' dealio, but can we reschedule the nagging session for tomorrow morning? 'Cuz right now, my bath's getting cold!" Max's voice was little better than a five-year-old's plaintive whine, begging an intractable parent for just five more minutes. She upended the last few gallons into the tub of steaming foam before turning her best pleading pout on her friend.
God help that Ly-dickhead brotha, if they was all like dis as kids… Cindy thought tiredly as she closed her eyes and brought one graceful hand up to rub her forehead. "Aiight…fine. Ain't no use talkin' when you got yoself set on that damned bathtub! But don' think Original Cindy gonna fuhget about dis bitch, hear?" She fixed Max with a final appraising look. "Yo boy may done wrong in th' past, but ain't nobody done so wrong they can't change for the better. He's proved time an' again he got yo back … now, if you ain't gonna return th' favor, maybe you not the boo I thought you was…"
With that comment hanging pointedly in the air between them, Cindy turned and left the room. "Have a nice bath…" She flung the parting shot caustically over her shoulder, brushing airily through the door curtain.
Max rolled her eyes. "Whatever…" she muttered sulkily.
C'mon, this is Alec…we fight all the time! This is no different…
But here, deep down in the privacy of her own thoughts, Max had to admit that that wasn't true. Sure, they'd always argued, picked on each other…but there had always been an undercurrent of teasing. As if by unspoken agreement, they never crossed the line between verbal sparring and all-out character assaults.
Tonight, Max knew, she'd crossed that line.
She turned the memory of their confrontation over in her mind as she pinned up her dark locks, shedding the pebbly feel of the terrycloth robe and easing herself into the water's deliciously seductive embrace. God…did I really say that to him? Now that she'd stopped fuming long enough to actually think things through, the familiar, sickly flavor of shame began to coat her tongue. OC was right…he didn't deserve any of that… God, Alec, I'm so sorry…
She sank lower into the soothing heat and bubbles, trying to escape the guilty spiral of her thoughts…but although her muscles gradually gave in to blissful relaxation, her mind could not. Cursed with the gene sequence that ensured a photographic memory, the image of Alec's face rose unbidden to float before her mind's eye.
I should've noticed, Max berated herself mercilessly. I should've seen it…
His reaction to her alone should've clued her in that something was wrong. But she'd been too angry, or too scared, or too caught up in herself to pay attention. Just like always.
Why does it always have to turn out this way with us? she wondered miserably. Why does every conversation have to turn into a battle? Why can't we just talk, like normal people?
The soothing water and the stress of the last few days were starting to tell on her, and Max felt her eyelids begin to droop. She considered getting out of the tub, but she was just so comfortable… Her mind felt light, drifting gently on the waves like a boat without an anchor, aimless and floating.
Stupid, broken world…won't let anybody be real…why is it so hard to be real? Why can't things just be simple and honest…
It was her last semi-conscious thought before she let herself go, gliding
smoothly into the fragrant, golden abyss of slumber.
—@—@—@—@—@—
A flash…
A young girl's face…a face under the ice…an open car door…get in…hurry…
Logan's mystified face…looking out the window…a girl running across a roof…a statue in a box…writhing on the floor…this is too hard…come to get your knife back…
Zack…led away…into a squad car…better get away…touching in front of a fire…that mission went sideways…do I know you I don't think so…
Ben's pleading expression…begging…please kill me…don't let them take me…
Alec's eyes…haunted green eyes…please don't let me die…a firecracker in the air…I'm sorry…
Tears on his cheeks…unnoticed pain…god, I'm so sorry…
Why can't it be like…
Max opened her eyes. She immediately shut them again. The light…hurt.
So bright…so beautiful…
Glowing, golden…unearthly. Too much for her merely-transgenic eyes to absorb.
She was warm. When she lifted her hand to her face, the swish of fabric against her skin was tender. A lover's touch…a phantom kiss.
She felt calm, and could not decide why that shouldn't be so. Why it seemed so strange. Foreign. Like clothing one size too large…she swam in the sensation…floundered. Too free. Somehow wrong.
Joshua was there.
She didn't notice him before, but then he was there. He was smiling…and his face was wrong. Many-colored…broad strokes of cerulean intermingled with…
"Hey, Little Fella."
"Hey, Big Fella."
His face was a work of art. A painting. One of his paintings. A broad green streak across his nose. Blue splatters on one cheek. Perfect red isosceles triangle from eye to nose to lip and back again.
"Joshua…you like a painting."
"My face. This is my face. This is what the World sees." Gentle eyes blinked rainbow lids. "I wear my own face."
"Yeah."
Broad purple grin, with two orange streaks. "You hide your face."
Max blinked slowly. "I don't like having my picture taken." She squinted up at him. "Can I take your picture? I want to remember your face."
"My face is always like this. You never look." Shaggy paw, a heavy weight on her narrow shoulder. "You hide your face." Paw lifted, waves behind her. "You all hide. Hide behind black stripes."
Max felt oddly reluctant to turn. No others…just me. She didn't want to see the black stripes…bars of a cell…bars with neon signs…bars on skin…
She turned around.
The others sat on the floor, draped in gauzy robes. Grey. Same as mine. Same as the whole world.
Joshua's face…broad strokes of cerulean…
Another world. A world beneath…behind.
Hiding.
Logan, Asha and Alec watched her. There was an open space, and they watched her. So she sat there. They made a loose circle.
A circle of black stripes. Straight stripes…round circle.
All their foreheads, covered in black stripes. Black bars. Barcodes.
"Max…your barcode." Logan. Facing her, across the straight-line circle. "You have a barcode."
"Yeah."
"We all have one." Alec.
Asha's head tilted dreamily to one side. "I can read them."
"I'll need a computer password to decode them." Logan shook his head.
Max felt her forehead…nothing. But they all said it was there…how could she be sure? "Is this a secret Eyes Only password, or can you tell me?"
"I can read them." Asha was insistent.
Alec blinked. "What does mine say?"
Joshua touched Alec's shoulder with a heavy paw. Long claws. Feathery fuchsia chin wagged side-to-side. No. "You have to read it yourself."
Max blinked.
"Be careful not to break the mirror." Logan.
Asha nodded wisely. "The cracks make it hard to see. Little lines are bad."
Alec agreed. "Then you see dead people."
Max blinked. "What about the disco ball?"
"What day is it?" Logan wondered.
"The day before." Joshua's voice came from over their heads. A voice from on high…deep. He knew. They believed. "The day before it all began."
They all blinked at each other.
"You are all strangers," the rainbow face went on. "Some of you don't exist. The World you are in is all grey, and you hide your faces."
Logan frowned. "You're not grey. You're colored."
"This is my face." Joshua nodded. "This is what the World sees."
He inclined his head. Regal, like a lion. A wolf. Not grey. "I am not in
the World."
Then Joshua was wearing a black robe. It went on as far as all the Worlds, and there was no light in any of them. Not even any grey. The hood covered his face. The colors were in shadow. He had one arm out, finger pointing at Max. Max didn't feel calm anymore. She shivered. She was cold now, and Joshua's voice was loud. It boomed…echoed in the golden mist of the place. "You are The Only!"
The Only blinked. "There are no others. There is just me. There is no room for anyone but me. I am a child of the past."
The finger drifted to Logan. "You are The Knight!"
The Knight's shoulders slumped. He looked tired now. "There is nothing but the cause. I am not for me. I am for the World, but the World will not have me. I am the quest. I am a child of the now."
Alec looked at Joshua's finger.
"You are The Pawn!"
The Pawn drew himself up, shoulders square. "I am not my own. I belong to the commanders. They use me to work their will, and their will is the World. I am a death-bringer, and I am not alive. I am no one's child."
Joshua finally came to Asha, and his voice was silent. No name. No answers.
"I am The Unknown." Asha spoke quietly. "I am for the World and the others. I am not for myself. I know all others, but no one else is permitted to know me. I am a child of the future."
Then Joshua was Joshua, and his face was blinding…colors in a World of grey. "Talk."
The Knight spoke. "I can save you. It can be part of my quest." He looked at the Pawn. "You should be for you. I can save you."
The Pawn glared. "The commanders will send me for you, and only I will leave."
"I will leave later." But the Knight looked startled. "Don't you want to be saved?"
"The World is the commanders' will."
The Unknown was silent.
The Only wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked gently.
The Pawn watched The Only. "You are nothing without the commanders."
The Only rocked harder.
"Can I save you?" The Knight watched The Only, too.
"I am the only one. There are no others. There is only me. I am in the past, and there is only me."
"No." The Knight was serious. "There are others."
"No others."
"She is her World. She cannot hear you." The Unknown's voice was compassion. She turned bright eyes to The Pawn. "His World is his prison. He will not listen." She blinked. "I know you. You will save her. She will save him. And I will be here."
The Knight did not know her, and did not listen.
"The commanders will conquer you all." The Pawn was sullen.
"Touch me." The Knight reached out to The Only. "You are not your
World. There is more. Touch me and join my quest." His fingers brush her
forehead…
Black lines touch…
Curving straight…lines in circles…
Worlds collide…intermingled with palimpsests…
Eyes open…Worlds are shed…scales from the blind…
Colors in orange, gold, red, and death…standing outside…
The World is grey, and the World is burning.
Heat like hell in August. Dog days of damnation. Joshua speaks. "This is a new now."
The circle blinks, sweating. Heads bowed.
Faces hidden.
"The is the second beginning…this is the change." The painted face speaks to the heavens, wreathed in smoke and cinder. "For the former things are passed away…the players are remade. New faces…new hiding places. The Only has conquered the past, and the World explodes into color. One World!"
Black streaks…black smears…
Black lines fade…run…bars to drops…drops trickle away…black turns to grey, turns to skin, turns to words…turns to truth…
Is hidden.
The Only raised her head. Pressed her small hand into Joshua's great paw…was pulled to her feet.
Hug.
"The Only is now The Silent." The rainbow voice was sad. "She will not speak, for her voice is her own, and she hides. She will sing when the door is locked, and the window opens, and she escapes into a World that holds more than herself."
The Knight looked up…stood.
Hug.
"The Knight is become The Loyal."
The Loyal cast down his eyes. "I am for her."
Joshua watched The Loyal. His eyes were sad…kindly. "He will not die until she forgets. He will not live until she flees. He will be always, but still he hides his face."
The Pawn trembled as he got to his feet. His eyes were haunted.
Hug.
"Who once was The Pawn, now is The Lost." Joshua laid both heavy hands on the shoulders of The Lost. "His World is gone…he is now in the World, but it will not have him. He can make The Silent scream, or he can make her sing…but he is for him. He is beautiful, but he hides."
Joshua drew the three into a hug.
Alone outside the huddle, The Unknown stood slowly. Her voice said that she might cry. "Unknown no longer…I am now The Unseen. I am for the shadows. I fight with The Loyal, but he does not notice me. I am a guide to The Lost, but he will not see me. The Silent watches me, and wonders. I hide, but long for truth. I will wait for the song."
Joshua's many-colored face smiled at the golden air. "Speak!"
The Silent looked on with wide eyes.
"My hands are shaking." The Lost spoke timidly. "I don't know who I am."
"Won't you sing?" The Loyal spoke to The Silent. He touched her cheek, and he hissed. His hand jerked away…stung…burned. The flames of the former World still gleamed in her eyes.
The Unseen touched his hand. "She will sing when you lock the door."
The Loyal shook her touch away.
The Lost reached out to the Unseen. "Can you help me find my way?"
"I can." The Unseen took his hand and stood behind him. "I can help you, but you will not see me. Only The Loyal can see me."
"He will not notice."
"I know." Her voice was sad.
The Loyal still pleaded. "Sing for me…why will you not sing?"
The Silent stared. Her eyes overflowed with speech, and no one could understand. The platinum witch stole her voice, locked it in a glass vial.
Joshua's yellow forehead wrinkled. "You must cure her."
"What do I use?" The Loyal looked eager.
Joshua grinned. "She must have the three-hour cure. The chipmunks can show you where."
The Silent shook her dark head. Her eyes spoke of sadness.
She turned her back to The Loyal.
She saw The Lost. She reached out, and he turned his head away.
"No. You will be lost, too." There was pain in the eyes of The Lost
The Unseen laid tender hands on the shoulders of The Loyal.
There was a long, hard quiet.
Glass shattered.
The Loyal turned to look into the eyes of The Unseen.
Lips parted…tongue curled…breath moved…
The Silent spoke.
"I am already lost." Her voice crunched with disuse.
The Lost looked at her. He smiled. "Then we are both lost." There was a light in his eyes, and it was not grey. It was not the color of flame. It was green, and it was alive. "We have found each other, so we are not lost. Do you know where we are?"
The Loyal stared at The Unseen, wide-eyed. "You are here?"
The Unseen nodded happily. "I have always been here." She touched his face. "I will always be here, and you will always be."
"Always."
The Silent smiled as she spoke to The Lost. "We are here. We are together."
Joshua spoke in a voice of thunder. "What once was lost, is found…who once was blind, now sees… Who once was silent—sing!"
Full lips parted around a single note…pure like sugar in the sun…sweet
like friendship in the puddling rain…joyous like Fridays in the springtime…wild
like the wind off the sea…enchanted like the fairy dust dancing between
the stars…
And then Max knew she was Max, and her friends had their own names
back, and suddenly their faces were new to her, as though they had been
hiding behind Halloween masks for as long as she had known them, except
Joshua's face was still his own, still painted in all the gaudy colors
of his own creations, the faces he showed to the colorful World that would
never accept his own, and then Asha pulled Logan's face down into a brief,
sweet kiss, and Ben was winking at Max out of Alec's eyes, and there was
a single, sparkling tear on his cheek, and as she reached up to brush it
away, Alec who was no longer Ben lightly kissed the tips of her fingers
without even trying, and Max's eyes went as wide and as round as the World,
and Logan and Alec both blushed bright pink into a World suddenly gone
technicolor-crazy, and Joshua laughed out loud with a booming voice like
God's and told them all to run along and play, and he'd see them again
when the third beginning came along, and then everything began to dissolve
into a swirling maelstrom of color and light and nothing was right-side
up anymore because there was no up and no right side because nothing was
black and white anymore in fact it wasn't even grey because the new World
was a digital World in sixteen million shades of the spectrum and another
sixteen million half-tones in between and it all spiraled together up and
up and up until Max thought as long as I'm up here I might jump over the
moon and hey wasn't it a full moon last week and why is it always so round
when I'm up on the Space Needle andthenIthinkI'lljustjumpofftheedgelikeI'vealwayswantedtodolikeaslimgracefulswandiveintoachlorinatedpoolof
moonlightandsunlightandstarsandtheWorldswirlingdancingspinningaroundthetoiletbowlandgiddydownthedrain
andsuddenlytherewasnoairanymoreanditwasallrunningblendingfadingtogetherintosillycrazyhappywaterwithbubblesand
—@—@—@—@—@—
Max's eyes flew open as she sat bolt upright. Tepid water and a film of exhausted bubbles sloshed around her as she moved—wait…in the bathtub…bath…
Oh, yeah…
Just a dream. Just a weird, wacky, and incredibly unnerving dream. A dream that somehow made lots of sense, and none at all.
I've really gotta stop falling asleep in the tub!
Already, the details of the dream were fading. Something about strange names, and hiding things, and suddenly realizing that the faces she thought she knew weren't who they seemed to be, even her own…
And an overwhelming sense of belonging…of love and acceptance. And now,
knowing that it had all been a dream, she found a part of herself yearning
to fall asleep again, to see if she could somehow recapture that delightful
glow.
—@—@—@—@—@—
Several sectors away, in the penthouse of Fogle Towers, Asha started from deep sleep into sudden, harsh wakefulness. It took her several seconds to recognize her surroundings.
Logan's couch…Logan's living room…Logan's apartment. Right. That's right.
"Wow," she muttered under her breath, her voice thick with sleep and
disuse. "That has got to be the weirdest dream ever…"
—@—@—@—@—@—
Two rooms away, Logan was also thrust forcibly into wakefulness, visions
of a golden haze and a blonde woman's lips still floating with tantalizing
unreality before his eyes…
—@—@—@—@—@—
It took twelve tense, even paces to cross the living room, from the bathroom door to the wall on the stairwell side. Seven paces from the TV cabinet to the half-wall that outlined the dingy kitchen. Three steps from the front door to the living room, bypassing the kitchen completely.
There was nothing worthwhile in the kitchen, anyway—it had been weeks since he'd stocked up on anything other than alcohol.
Why does it seem like so much of my life is spent counting my own footsteps?
The answer came back to him almost immediately, like an echo of the question, bouncing off the back of his skull like a lunatic pinballing back and forth off of his cell's padded walls.
Because if I didn't, I might accidentally remember…
Or fall asleep and dream…
In a way, it was a relief to know that his subconscious could still produce something other than the 'Alec goes on a homicidal streak and starts killing all his friends' dream. But as bad as the killing dream was…this new, golden one was somehow even worse.
With the first dream, waking up had been a relief—a release from the torment.
Waking after this latest dream had been like coming back down to earth after getting the ten-cent tour of Paradise itself.
His chest still ached with want. For the first time…a place where he could be together with the people he cared about, where there was no pain or recrimination or discord…just acceptance and love. Friendship. Something other than being entirely, irrevocably alone.
The thought of going back to his life, after an experience like that, made his heart feel as though it were being squeezed in a vise…as though he'd been given a glimpse of a larger World, only to find that he could no longer cram his expanding soul into the World he once knew…
And then the first dream came crowding around him, smothering him in its foul folds, suffocating in its obscenity. Alec couldn't completely suppress the shudder that rose up from the hollows between his vertebrae, making his broad shoulders quiver for a moment. His own weakness galled him, coating his tongue with a bitter cocktail of shame and self-loathing—I'm a soldier, dammit!
But can you really be a soldier, without being a pawn?
Why did these dreams, these scraps of unconscious unreality, these utter dichotomies of darkness and light, haunt him like gruesome spectres on a sun-dappled day…like any one of his innumerable victims, come back from an untimely grave, to quench its thirst on the spicy chill of his fear…revenge shaken, not stirred…
Why can't I shrug this off?!? Just keep telling yourself, Alec—it's all in your head…
The image of the bodies in the woods rose unbidden from a deep pit of his tainted soul, to float before his mind's eye like a grisly fog. A faint scrap of golden music…the feel of Max's skin as he laid feather-kisses across her fingertips…the memories taunting him with visions of joys that could never come to pass… The fantastical extremes of sunlit heaven and cold, black hell were too much for his already-strained emotions. Alec's eyes scrunched shut almost involuntarily, and he clenched his jaw so hard that his molars felt as if they might pop out through his eye sockets. For a moment, he might have been a statue—a grim, immobile measure of the weight a human soul can bear, in the moment before it shatters.
Then he exploded into frenetic motion. He flung a fearsome kick at the coffee table, breaking one leg away. He picked up the rest of the table and flung it against the wall, where it burst into splinters and broken planks. It took out a hapless lamp as it flew to meet its fate. The wall shuddered in its wake, plaster crumbling from the abused surface.
Nothing in the apartment was spared. Alec attacked everything around him in a flailing blur of genetic perfection and overstressed nerves. This new enemy was a creature Manticore had never taught him how to destroy—this demon that wore his face, his barcode…that was written into his DNA, into his very soul…a forever-promise of all the things he despised and would always be, coupled with the things he yearned for but could never touch…
None of his usual defenses could touch this adversary. If he thought he could, he would have tried to claw his own heart from his chest, to see that dark creature writhe and scream and disintegrate in the rays of the sun, the dark flame of its feral eyes snuffed into a thin trail of smoke by a World of golden glow…but that foul flaw, those few misplaced codons that argued with grim finality that man could not, after all, achieve perfection by the works of his hands…that dark tendril of flame refused to be dragged into the shimmering light. The twisted impulses that watched him with his brother's eyes were stubborn, and would not be so easily denied their due.
So instead, he lashed out. Failing to slay the monster hiding behind his eyes, he created others. Behind the chair…dangling from the ceiling…under the bed. Everywhere he turned, a vision of the dream hung before him. He reached for it, clawing desperately to reach it, to take it in his hands like one of Joshua's canvases and rend it from its frame, flay it into unrecognizable shreds…to keep the guilt and loneliness at bay. Oh, the loneliness…so much love in this broken World…but not for me…
When Alec finally collapsed, trembling arms wrapped loosely over his heaving chest, amid the wreckage that might once have had the potential to become a home, he heard her gentle words again, as they slipped from between her full lips like thieves from an empty house…as clearly as if she were in the room with him…his hand wrapped around her throat…
The one person in his life who hadn't appeared in the dream.
Simon…I love you…
His hands were shaking.
Alec…let me help…
Another small part of Alec wept at the horror of it all, and prepared to fling itself into the abyss, to the tender mercies of the monster that crouched there, when a very small, very timid voice cleared its throat in his mind.
Wait a sec…
For a few brief, crucial seconds, logic held its ground against the rising tide of feeling that threatened to drown him…just long enough to knit two broken threads into a single strand…a vital connection made…
They called me The Lost…but she found me…
It's not the madness that hurts…
It's the loneliness…
Another wave of heartache broke over him at the thought, and he bit his lip to keep from sobbing aloud.
It's me…I'm doing it to myself…
Not poison…just lost…
Max…please help me…find me…
Heedless of the wreckage around him, Alec staggered toward the ruined front door. He gave no thought to grabbing a coat as he moved out into the hallway, his legs becoming surer with every step he took in her direction. The many cuts on his hands burned and stung as he leaned heavily on the banister, making his way down the stairs to the street, but he barely felt them.
For the first time in days, he felt hope rising within him. Lost…but what's lost can be found. Max can find me, I know she can…
The beast within raged and slavered, but he ignored its weakening cries as he staggered out into the gentle Seattle rain in the deep hour before the dawn. The silent singer was calling out to him from the World of dreams, like a siren savior…
And suddenly, Alec no longer felt so completely alone.
—@—@—@—@—@—
Are you completely confused now???? :-) If so, that's okay, for a couple of different reasons. First of all, I purposely wrote this chapter to be sort of on the inscrutable side. After all, if you can explain everything in words of one syllable, then there's no mystery left…nothing to be awed by. And…well, I just like being inscrutable. ;-) But also, things will be a lot clearer once I've written the next chapter, which dovetails completely with this one.
BUT, I did promise you a bit of an explanation…so to tide you over until I can get the next chapter done, I'll clue you in to a few things. First of all, the big section in italics is a dream, just in case that wasn't clear enough. And yes, it's a dream that the four main characters share (somehow, I think Joshua wasn't actually dreaming the dream with them…his likeness was just there to serve a specific purpose).
Basically, the premise I had for the dream was, for each character to explore their "history" within the show…to go back and see where they'd started, and how far they'd come to where they currently are. Then from there, they could sort of see where they ought to be going next. When they first show up in the dream, they've all got barcodes on their foreheads, and those barcodes can be translated into names—which Joshua tells them. The first set of names is supposed to represent the characters as they were, either during or right before the pilot episode. So Max is being devil-may-care Max (The Only), Logan is being Mr. Crusader Eyes Only guy (The Knight), Alec is still under Manticore's evil thumb (The Pawn), and Asha is (presumably) off doing some kind of S1W stuff (The Unknown).
The second set of names represents the characters during the second season—specifically, right after the fire that burned Manticore to the ground, because that's really the moment that everything changed in the DA universe. Suddenly Max becomes Ms. Anti-Communication gal (The Silent), Logan turns into a sap who basically just sits around dreaming up ways to get with Max despite the virus (The Loyal), Alec sort of bumbles around trying to figure out how to get by in the World (The Lost), and Asha becomes semi-regular screen fodder at the whim of the writers…oh, and she seems to like chasing Logan (The Unseen).
Then, when they finally figure out that they'll all be happier in the new, rearranged pairings that I'm developing for them, they all remember who they are, and 'shippiness happens, and they wake up. Hope that translation helps clear away a bit of the fog…
'SHIPPY ALERT!!!!!!!!!!! The next chapter will be bringing massive heaps of 'shippiness to both couples (sorry, no sex, just sappiness), a new (and hopefully intriguing) plot development for Joshua, as well as White's next move to up the ante on the transgenics calling Seattle 'home'…
BUT!!!!! Because so much has to happen in this chapter, I am
giving you all fair warning: it's probably going to take me a while
to write, 'cuz I've got to get it right, or the rest of the fic will sort
of fall apart on me. Obviously, I'll try to pry it out of my head and get
it posted with as much speed as the story will permit…but please don't
hold your breath. Purple is a very unattractive color on most people, and
breathing is much more fun, anyway… ;-)
Coming (not so) soon!!!!!!!
Chapter 9 - No Strings Attached