A/N. much gratitude to all who reviewed me, and hassled me to write more.
you know who you are : ) Along the above lines, special thanks must go to
ACB. : ). This chapter is for Rowe, who unknowingly inspired me to write
Emerald into something bigger than she was.
Blue threw her head back and laughed at the unexpected challenge. The wind carried away all sound except it's own but she could have sworn she felt Lucas chuckle too. She ran her hand over Lucas' chest, encased in nothing but his standard tight t-shirt, despite the cold air. His muscles were smooth and firm, beckoning, but she refused to allow them to distract her.
The driver, responding to the death of his guard, had hit the accelerator in an attempt to outrun them. Calculation, or just dumb luck, it was a good move for him. They couldn't shoot out the tires on the truck because they needed it to transport the meat. The bikes she had chosen looked sexy as hell with the boys, but they were a bit of a handicap when it came to moving around dead cow. Then, there was the first Seattle checkpoint, less than 10 klicks up the road. It was crucial to get the truck before then, far enough away that no one would hear or see anything. Which meant they had to act now.
They were riding directly behind the truck and she held her arm out and forward so that Eric and Lucas could see her signaling a change of sides. Eric dropped back seamlessly and she and Lucas took his place on the right side, speeding up to draw up ahead of the truck's now unguarded passenger door. She swung her leg over to sit sidesaddle on the bike, and jumped, impacting with the truck, and clinging to the mirror.
She could see the driver through the windshield, his eyes wide, his sweat trickling down his forehead as he tried to load an old shotgun with one hand. He was clever, for a norm, but she was too fast for him as she broke more glass from the shattered passenger window and hauled herself through, onto the body of the dead guard.
She could feel the bite of glass in her palms, but she wrenched the shotgun from his hands, throwing it out the window. She turned to the driver and smiled.
Alec knew he was breathing heavily but he couldn't seem to control it. He tried to run through the breathing drills he had learned at Manticore, but he was out of practice and the steps jumbled together in his head. His panting breaths echoed into the quiet room, Max's unnatural silence throwing the noise into sharp relief.
He closed his eyes and opened them again, noticing that his vision was still partly obscured by a steady trickle of blood. As he watched, a tiny droplet fell through the air and onto Max, shining wetly in the dim light. There was other blood, he noticed, coming from her nose and he realised that he was still pinning her limp wrists to Logan's floor.
He let them go and they were ringed in white from the pressure of his grip. He stared at her. When she woke up, she would kill him. Or he would kill her. Either way was not good. He glanced around the apartment and was surprised to see that it hadn't caved in around them. The box of stolen supplies rested innocently on the bench top.
He stood and looked down at her, her body flaccid looking, legs slightly spread, nose bloody. Even unconscious, there were lines of faint hostility in her face. If they didn't leave now they were going to be late to the rendezvous with Mole but he knew that bringing Max round would be more trouble than it was worth.
He carried the box down to the van and loaded it in, re-entering the apartment carefully in case she was awake and lying in wait. She was where he had left her, breathing even and slow. He approached cautiously, and gently kicked the soles of her feet.
'Max?'
When there was no response, he knelt beside her and pushed his arms beneath her, feeling a tiny surprise at the warmth of her body. He lifted her, and cradled her to him, arms and legs dangling uselessly, head tipped back. She was lighter than he expected, and her hip dug into him as he carried her easily down the stairs, buckling her into the passenger seat of the van. She didn't wake and he had to recline the seat slightly to stop her from falling forward. He sat in the driver's seat and stared at her. Wondered what she would say when she came round.
They drove. Or he drove, and she lay there. He thought about death and about how he had seen so much of it. He was glad she wasn't dead, and he was glad he hadn't killed her. It could have happened so easily, so quickly. In his mind, his knuckles followed the head butt, cutting off her airway. Or his hands, snapping her neck, forcing it to hang at an unnatural angle. He was a killer and she was a killer and they could have killed each other.
He drove carefully, initially to avoid rolling her around in the seat. After that, it was because the noise of the van interfered with the sound of her breathing. He needed to hear it. He glanced at her now and then, to see the soft rise and fall of her black clad chest. He wondered if she would understand how close they had come to wiping each other out. They were angry enough, strong enough, fast enough. They had been standing on the brink.
Emerald looked around the darkened street. They had been waiting in the drizzling rain for 10 minutes. She had been somewhat surprised when Mole had indicated that she should come with him on the supply pickup. His secrecy was the stuff of legend. She didn't mind the steady drizzle and while she stood there she had calculated the likelihood that the drizzle would stop, the likelihood of there being an accident involving either of the drop vehicles and the likelihood of their location being discovered by sector police. After that, she moved on to calculating more obscure things. Like the likelihood of their survival after being discovered by the sector police having been involved in a vehicular accident caused by the drizzle.
She had discovered, long ago, the value of being forewarned. She ran the sums constantly, wherever she went, without even really thinking about it. TC was fascinating, packed with variables and always in motion. There was an endless capacity in the world for changes but to her, Terminal City felt like a nexus, a fulcrum on which the rest of the country would turn.
The rain was murmuring softly on her plastic rain jacket, and slowly soaking through the legs of her sweats. Mole stood next to her, and if he felt the drizzle at all he gave no indication of it. It was difficult to read his expressions at the best of times and he was looking out into the night. She wondered how drizzle would feel if you had scales instead of skin.
'They're coming', he said suddenly, but she couldn't hear or see anything beyond the rainy street. She didn't doubt his perception, so she waited, staring into the distance alongside him. He shifted slightly in his shoes, and didn't say anything. On the way he had gone over the internal supply route with her, the one she would need to take, and so he probably thought there was nothing left to say.
She heard the vehicles before she saw them. A deep, low throbbing could be heard in the distance.
'Sounds like a fucking motorcade' muttered Mole. Seconds later, they came into view and Emerald had to stifle a laugh. Two motorbikes and a truck. It was a motorcade. The helmeted riders on either side of the truck seemed to be Tweedledee and Tweedledum, Blue's boys, but she couldn't be sure. She felt, rather than saw, Mole shift his hand slightly on the ubiquitous rifle. The driver of the truck was obscured from view by the darkness in the cabin and the moonlight on the windshield. They all came to a smooth halt on the rainy asphalt.
The riders dismounted in perfect unison and removed their black helmets. Emerald let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. Tweedledee and Tweedledum. She didn't know where the names had come from, but they seemed to fit the carbon copy soldiers perfectly.
'Hey there scales. How's it hangin' ?' Blue called out as she swung from the truck, trademark hair hidden under a soft black beanie. Emerald was grateful when Mole glanced sidelong at her, obviously enough to catch Blue's attention.
'We're fine'
Blue took the hint, but hid her surprise at discovering Emerald right there. 'Sorry 'bout that honey. That's some in-built camo you've got '
'Nice entrance.' Bit out Mole. 'Discreet.'
Blue didn't appreciate criticism, regardless of how justified it was. 'Shouldn't you be sunning yourself on a rock somewhere?'
Emerald saw Mole open his mouth to say something and quickly jumped into the breach. The last thing anybody needed tonight was a brawl.
'How'd it go?' she asked, and Blue looked a little surprised to be reminded of her presence.
Blue appeared to think about it and grimaced. 'Good. Although, there are decisions I'd make differently.'
She held out her hands, palm forward, and amongst the congealed blood and healing slashes Emerald could see the glitter of still-embedded glass. She winced and wondered how Blue had managed to drive the truck at all.
'You need to go to the infirmary.'
Blue smiled at the concern in Emerald's voice. Non-combat units were always more sympathetic. 'Nah. My boys'll take care of me.' There was a pause. 'Keys are in the dash.'
The boys were saddling up as she walked back towards the bikes, and she swung up behind one of them so quickly that Emerald didn't see it. The revving of the engines blistered in the night and they turned the bikes carefully before roaring off into the distance.
Mole strode towards the truck and Emerald followed, feeling a little like a lost puppy. Mole looked in the door and grunted. Streaks of blood coated the steering wheel and dash, there was a corpse in the passenger seat covered in fragments of glass. The guard. Emerald wondered whether Blue had left the driver alive.
Mole clambered into the drivers seat and looked down at her.
'Need anything?'
She shook her head, no, and closed the door on him. There was a moment when their eyes met through the rain streaked glass. She thought she saw a small nod, but it could have been her imagination. He started the engine and drove off slowly. She didn't watch him go, and moved back into the shadows of a building, to wait for the next drop.
Alec drove slowly along the dark street, headlights off. The van rolled to a halt, but he kept the engine running in case something was going on. He looked around the dark street again. Mole was late. He felt his awareness heighten and his muscles slip into something approaching a readiness to fight.
He got out of the car and stood, looking around. 'Hey' The voice came from directly behind him. He turned.
'Emerald. Wish you'd stop creeping up on me like that.'
She forced a laugh. 'Well, you can thank Manticore for th. what the hell happened?'
He struggled for an answer. How could he explain what had gone down? The words wouldn't come, but he realised he could hear Emerald, asking a question.
'What?'
She looked concerned. 'I said, "Did you get ambushed?"' She raised a hand to his face and he flinched. 'There's a lot of blood here.' She brushed a finger tip over the cut in his eyebrow. 'Looks like somebody got you a good one.'
'It's nothing.' he shrugged her off.
'Who was it? Vigilantes?'
He thought about saying yes, and heading off all the questions and accusations at the pass. Then he thought about Max, still unconscious in the van.
'It was Max.'
'Max?' She sounded less surprised than he expected. 'Where is she?'
He gestured loosely at the van.
Emerald walked towards it, stopping when she could see Max slumped in the passenger seat. Her back to Alec was to Alec and her voice was forthright.
'Is she dead?'
'No.'
She turned to face him, her voice still calm and even. 'TC doesn't need this shit right now Alec.'
He felt her comment like a slap.
'I know.'
He could practically see the wheels turning in her head.
'Nobody can know' She sounded definite about that, like she was giving an order.
He nodded. 'What about Max?'
'I have to take the van, so I'll take care of her. I might need to tell Mole.' She looked at him steadily, her brown eyes serious. 'Whatever this thing is, with you and Max, fix it. Now. In a weeks time, things are probably going to get bad and we need both of you, functioning at full capacity.'
He nodded. Part of him was relieved at being told what to do, at having somebody else control the situation.
'I need to return that passcard.'
He turned and began to walk slowly away from her, heading back towards the place where he had begun his night. With any luck the cleaner would still be there, ogling naked women.
'Alec?'
He looked back over his shoulder at her and saw that her eyes were sympathetic once again.
'Get some sleep. You look awful.'
Blue threw her head back and laughed at the unexpected challenge. The wind carried away all sound except it's own but she could have sworn she felt Lucas chuckle too. She ran her hand over Lucas' chest, encased in nothing but his standard tight t-shirt, despite the cold air. His muscles were smooth and firm, beckoning, but she refused to allow them to distract her.
The driver, responding to the death of his guard, had hit the accelerator in an attempt to outrun them. Calculation, or just dumb luck, it was a good move for him. They couldn't shoot out the tires on the truck because they needed it to transport the meat. The bikes she had chosen looked sexy as hell with the boys, but they were a bit of a handicap when it came to moving around dead cow. Then, there was the first Seattle checkpoint, less than 10 klicks up the road. It was crucial to get the truck before then, far enough away that no one would hear or see anything. Which meant they had to act now.
They were riding directly behind the truck and she held her arm out and forward so that Eric and Lucas could see her signaling a change of sides. Eric dropped back seamlessly and she and Lucas took his place on the right side, speeding up to draw up ahead of the truck's now unguarded passenger door. She swung her leg over to sit sidesaddle on the bike, and jumped, impacting with the truck, and clinging to the mirror.
She could see the driver through the windshield, his eyes wide, his sweat trickling down his forehead as he tried to load an old shotgun with one hand. He was clever, for a norm, but she was too fast for him as she broke more glass from the shattered passenger window and hauled herself through, onto the body of the dead guard.
She could feel the bite of glass in her palms, but she wrenched the shotgun from his hands, throwing it out the window. She turned to the driver and smiled.
Alec knew he was breathing heavily but he couldn't seem to control it. He tried to run through the breathing drills he had learned at Manticore, but he was out of practice and the steps jumbled together in his head. His panting breaths echoed into the quiet room, Max's unnatural silence throwing the noise into sharp relief.
He closed his eyes and opened them again, noticing that his vision was still partly obscured by a steady trickle of blood. As he watched, a tiny droplet fell through the air and onto Max, shining wetly in the dim light. There was other blood, he noticed, coming from her nose and he realised that he was still pinning her limp wrists to Logan's floor.
He let them go and they were ringed in white from the pressure of his grip. He stared at her. When she woke up, she would kill him. Or he would kill her. Either way was not good. He glanced around the apartment and was surprised to see that it hadn't caved in around them. The box of stolen supplies rested innocently on the bench top.
He stood and looked down at her, her body flaccid looking, legs slightly spread, nose bloody. Even unconscious, there were lines of faint hostility in her face. If they didn't leave now they were going to be late to the rendezvous with Mole but he knew that bringing Max round would be more trouble than it was worth.
He carried the box down to the van and loaded it in, re-entering the apartment carefully in case she was awake and lying in wait. She was where he had left her, breathing even and slow. He approached cautiously, and gently kicked the soles of her feet.
'Max?'
When there was no response, he knelt beside her and pushed his arms beneath her, feeling a tiny surprise at the warmth of her body. He lifted her, and cradled her to him, arms and legs dangling uselessly, head tipped back. She was lighter than he expected, and her hip dug into him as he carried her easily down the stairs, buckling her into the passenger seat of the van. She didn't wake and he had to recline the seat slightly to stop her from falling forward. He sat in the driver's seat and stared at her. Wondered what she would say when she came round.
They drove. Or he drove, and she lay there. He thought about death and about how he had seen so much of it. He was glad she wasn't dead, and he was glad he hadn't killed her. It could have happened so easily, so quickly. In his mind, his knuckles followed the head butt, cutting off her airway. Or his hands, snapping her neck, forcing it to hang at an unnatural angle. He was a killer and she was a killer and they could have killed each other.
He drove carefully, initially to avoid rolling her around in the seat. After that, it was because the noise of the van interfered with the sound of her breathing. He needed to hear it. He glanced at her now and then, to see the soft rise and fall of her black clad chest. He wondered if she would understand how close they had come to wiping each other out. They were angry enough, strong enough, fast enough. They had been standing on the brink.
Emerald looked around the darkened street. They had been waiting in the drizzling rain for 10 minutes. She had been somewhat surprised when Mole had indicated that she should come with him on the supply pickup. His secrecy was the stuff of legend. She didn't mind the steady drizzle and while she stood there she had calculated the likelihood that the drizzle would stop, the likelihood of there being an accident involving either of the drop vehicles and the likelihood of their location being discovered by sector police. After that, she moved on to calculating more obscure things. Like the likelihood of their survival after being discovered by the sector police having been involved in a vehicular accident caused by the drizzle.
She had discovered, long ago, the value of being forewarned. She ran the sums constantly, wherever she went, without even really thinking about it. TC was fascinating, packed with variables and always in motion. There was an endless capacity in the world for changes but to her, Terminal City felt like a nexus, a fulcrum on which the rest of the country would turn.
The rain was murmuring softly on her plastic rain jacket, and slowly soaking through the legs of her sweats. Mole stood next to her, and if he felt the drizzle at all he gave no indication of it. It was difficult to read his expressions at the best of times and he was looking out into the night. She wondered how drizzle would feel if you had scales instead of skin.
'They're coming', he said suddenly, but she couldn't hear or see anything beyond the rainy street. She didn't doubt his perception, so she waited, staring into the distance alongside him. He shifted slightly in his shoes, and didn't say anything. On the way he had gone over the internal supply route with her, the one she would need to take, and so he probably thought there was nothing left to say.
She heard the vehicles before she saw them. A deep, low throbbing could be heard in the distance.
'Sounds like a fucking motorcade' muttered Mole. Seconds later, they came into view and Emerald had to stifle a laugh. Two motorbikes and a truck. It was a motorcade. The helmeted riders on either side of the truck seemed to be Tweedledee and Tweedledum, Blue's boys, but she couldn't be sure. She felt, rather than saw, Mole shift his hand slightly on the ubiquitous rifle. The driver of the truck was obscured from view by the darkness in the cabin and the moonlight on the windshield. They all came to a smooth halt on the rainy asphalt.
The riders dismounted in perfect unison and removed their black helmets. Emerald let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. Tweedledee and Tweedledum. She didn't know where the names had come from, but they seemed to fit the carbon copy soldiers perfectly.
'Hey there scales. How's it hangin' ?' Blue called out as she swung from the truck, trademark hair hidden under a soft black beanie. Emerald was grateful when Mole glanced sidelong at her, obviously enough to catch Blue's attention.
'We're fine'
Blue took the hint, but hid her surprise at discovering Emerald right there. 'Sorry 'bout that honey. That's some in-built camo you've got '
'Nice entrance.' Bit out Mole. 'Discreet.'
Blue didn't appreciate criticism, regardless of how justified it was. 'Shouldn't you be sunning yourself on a rock somewhere?'
Emerald saw Mole open his mouth to say something and quickly jumped into the breach. The last thing anybody needed tonight was a brawl.
'How'd it go?' she asked, and Blue looked a little surprised to be reminded of her presence.
Blue appeared to think about it and grimaced. 'Good. Although, there are decisions I'd make differently.'
She held out her hands, palm forward, and amongst the congealed blood and healing slashes Emerald could see the glitter of still-embedded glass. She winced and wondered how Blue had managed to drive the truck at all.
'You need to go to the infirmary.'
Blue smiled at the concern in Emerald's voice. Non-combat units were always more sympathetic. 'Nah. My boys'll take care of me.' There was a pause. 'Keys are in the dash.'
The boys were saddling up as she walked back towards the bikes, and she swung up behind one of them so quickly that Emerald didn't see it. The revving of the engines blistered in the night and they turned the bikes carefully before roaring off into the distance.
Mole strode towards the truck and Emerald followed, feeling a little like a lost puppy. Mole looked in the door and grunted. Streaks of blood coated the steering wheel and dash, there was a corpse in the passenger seat covered in fragments of glass. The guard. Emerald wondered whether Blue had left the driver alive.
Mole clambered into the drivers seat and looked down at her.
'Need anything?'
She shook her head, no, and closed the door on him. There was a moment when their eyes met through the rain streaked glass. She thought she saw a small nod, but it could have been her imagination. He started the engine and drove off slowly. She didn't watch him go, and moved back into the shadows of a building, to wait for the next drop.
Alec drove slowly along the dark street, headlights off. The van rolled to a halt, but he kept the engine running in case something was going on. He looked around the dark street again. Mole was late. He felt his awareness heighten and his muscles slip into something approaching a readiness to fight.
He got out of the car and stood, looking around. 'Hey' The voice came from directly behind him. He turned.
'Emerald. Wish you'd stop creeping up on me like that.'
She forced a laugh. 'Well, you can thank Manticore for th. what the hell happened?'
He struggled for an answer. How could he explain what had gone down? The words wouldn't come, but he realised he could hear Emerald, asking a question.
'What?'
She looked concerned. 'I said, "Did you get ambushed?"' She raised a hand to his face and he flinched. 'There's a lot of blood here.' She brushed a finger tip over the cut in his eyebrow. 'Looks like somebody got you a good one.'
'It's nothing.' he shrugged her off.
'Who was it? Vigilantes?'
He thought about saying yes, and heading off all the questions and accusations at the pass. Then he thought about Max, still unconscious in the van.
'It was Max.'
'Max?' She sounded less surprised than he expected. 'Where is she?'
He gestured loosely at the van.
Emerald walked towards it, stopping when she could see Max slumped in the passenger seat. Her back to Alec was to Alec and her voice was forthright.
'Is she dead?'
'No.'
She turned to face him, her voice still calm and even. 'TC doesn't need this shit right now Alec.'
He felt her comment like a slap.
'I know.'
He could practically see the wheels turning in her head.
'Nobody can know' She sounded definite about that, like she was giving an order.
He nodded. 'What about Max?'
'I have to take the van, so I'll take care of her. I might need to tell Mole.' She looked at him steadily, her brown eyes serious. 'Whatever this thing is, with you and Max, fix it. Now. In a weeks time, things are probably going to get bad and we need both of you, functioning at full capacity.'
He nodded. Part of him was relieved at being told what to do, at having somebody else control the situation.
'I need to return that passcard.'
He turned and began to walk slowly away from her, heading back towards the place where he had begun his night. With any luck the cleaner would still be there, ogling naked women.
'Alec?'
He looked back over his shoulder at her and saw that her eyes were sympathetic once again.
'Get some sleep. You look awful.'