The Enemy Of My Enemy...

by

Drea Jackman

Chapter Six

In the shear black of night, the shadows helped to consume Max and White whole. They made it clear across the rest of the complex without meeting anymore Hunters in their travels. Max was beginning to feel tired, despite her revved-up genes pushing her beyond the pain threshold that was now beginning to scream in defiance of every new step she took.

Since they'd set off, White had begun to feel heavy and took less and less of his own weight on himself. When the path out of the complex led into the stark woodland lying between them and town, Max struggled to keep her footing. Half an hour and a mile later, she finally faltered on a low tree trunk and felt White's weight pull her down.

Hitting the rough forest floor hard, Max grunted and scrambled to get up. She knew White had gone down beside her, and she could feel the weight of the arm she'd been supporting as it lay across her back. As she brought herself to a kneeling position, she was surprised to find that he wasn't moving. The arm she'd felt on her back fell by his side as he lay there unconscious.

"You're kidding me," she hissed and thumped him lightly on his good shoulder.

Shifting position when he didn't respond, she looked around and quickly scanned the area with X5 precision. There was a fallen tree a few feet away and that had pulled up a large chunk of the ground when it had gone down. The almost perfect floor of earth still threaded between the roots now formed a canopy over the hollow where it had once stood tall. For fear of Hunters discovering them stationary outside the complex, she quickly grabbed White non-too-gently and dragged him to the shelter.

"Hey!" she hissed, bending to lower her lips to his ear.

White didn't move.

Max took the soldier initiative again and began to check him over for further signs of injury, and for another brief moment, wondered why the hell she wasn't just leaving him there for them. All too soon, she found a warm, sticky substance coating her hand where it rested over his shoulder. Drawing back to look at it with Manticore-given night-vision, she recognised it as blood, but not before the scent flooded her senses. The bullet wound had opened again and once more, life fluid was pouring from him in oozing waves.

"Superior breed my ass!"

She continued to grumble mentally as she clamped a hand over the wound and pressed down on it hard. Her other free hand checked for a pulse. He might have been Familiar, but she'd be damned if he'd die whilst under their truce of sorts. Damned if she didn't do what she could to help him because the second she failed to, she'd have succeeded in becoming the killer he'd attempted to make her so many times before. She'd saved Joshua and now it would take everything she had to save herself.

"Hey!" she hissed again and swatted his cheek harder than she would've anyone close to her. With one final slap he began to stir. "Wake up!"

White's eyes fluttered open to see the face of his enemy staring down at him. He wasn't sure exactly what had happened or how long he'd been out with her kneeling over him, but it was something he'd rather she not have seen.

"What happened to being the superior model, huh?!"

When he didn't dignify her with an answer, she softened her expression. There was no fun to be had in his kind of taunting if he didn't fire anything back. Besides, she didn't feel like playing his games anymore. She was loathed to show anything close to concern, but he really did appear to be hurt. After about fifteen minutes, she'd stemmed the bleeding and he was fumbling to sit up, no doubt tired of his vulnerable position.

"So, what happened?" she asked finally.

"To being the superior model or when you gave in to your pathetic weakness again?"

"Look, I thought we'd cleared this up already," she sighed, being careful to keep their argument quiet. "You keep that lame-ass sense of humour to yourself or I leave your sorry ass here for them."

White turned to smirk at her through obvious physical discomfort. Maybe it was the addition of being in a confined space with her to the repeated beatings. "Fixation with my ass now, 452? What would your reporter friend think?"

Max lost it for all of two seconds and allowed herself to strike out and thump his good shoulder again, a little harder this time. White only appeared to enjoy having earned another enraged response from her. Another reason for Max to fume. After silence loomed for a few minutes more, they finally turned to look at each other again.

"Remind me again why I even thought about helping you out of there alive?" Max asked.

White sat leaning against the mound of earth and tangle of bark behind them, as did Max. They both turned away from each other and stared blankly out into the night.

"Because, no matter what I try to do to you, you fight."

White's answer surprised Max. There was no sarcasm, no malice at all. It was said as a statement of fact and not as the tiresome, failed result she knew must have annoyed him.

"You hardly asked me to leave you behind. In fact," she said, enjoying the sarcasm in her words a little too much. How could he have that effect on her? "You threw out some pathetic demand as I recall."

"If you'd left me behind, you'd have made it out of here hours ago."

"Don't remind me."

"You're weak, and yet you fight it constantly."

Max grew tired of his lack of aggression and reverted her own conversation back a notch or two to make up for it. "Fight what? Cut the cryptic shit!"

"That cold feeling that creeps through your veins when you look at me. Right now ... a few hours ago ... but it was stronger when you brought me here, wasn't it?"

His directness caught her off guard and she averted her eyes for a second. Then she realised that was giving her away and she put her game face back on. Her gaze returned to meet his in denial with a fiery passion.

"Familiar, murderer, lying helplessly at your feet, slowing you down. You could have finished it without ever giving me the satisfaction of knowing. It's what they've wanted me to do for a long time," he continued.

"Satisfaction?"

"Of killing me."

"You're crazy!" she said determined not to fall for whatever it was he was apparently trying to get her to admit.

"Maybe," he said giving her a side-long glance.

"I wanted to leave you here."

"Like I said, you fight," White replied as once again, her presence and his pulse attested to what he was trying to say.

"Who's they?" she ventured after a brief moment of silence.

"The Conclave."

"Offer them my apologies then," she fired back.

"You'd never do what they wanted, I'd come to believe as much when you saved the canine from me."

"You were the one saved that night and don't think I don't regret it every day."

"You stopped him from becoming a killer, but now you're worried you'll give in yourself, aren't you?"

Max looked away from him and faked disinterest in his topic of conversation. White knew better, even if he was wondering why the hell he was pushing with the intimate conversation. Mortal enemies didn't share. What was he doing?

"Why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I what?" she asked, her tone low and curt as if making it clear that he really was wearing on her patience and should back off now.

"Leave me behind, kill me when you had the chance?"

For a few seconds, she forgot herself and was tempted to open up. Then, for the millionth time that night, she reminded herself of who she was dealing with and her temper flared that bit higher. "Because I'm not you!"

The air around them grew tense and White watched as she settled herself in a new position facing away from him. She wasn't the first person to turn her back on him. Instead of focusing on their argument, he found his thoughts consumed by the dream he'd had before. It was true, she was nothing like him and yet now he found that fact to be strangely appealing.

"Why did you even follow me tonight?"

Max's tone betrayed a tiredness and sense of defeat he'd not expected to hear from her ever.

"I followed you?"

Max looked over her shoulder and shot him a warning glare not to push her any farther.

"The conclave heard about the pick-up operation you have for bringing freaks into town. I was sent to monitor you, find out when there was movement," he finally answered.

"You've been watching me?" Max asked. She was surprised that he would or could have done so without attempting to killer her at least once.

"Felines really are creatures of habit, aren't they?"

Max snapped for a second time that night and threw an elbow his way to mark her angered sigh. It connected with the solid mass of White's body beside her and he gave a satisfying grunt of pain. Then the reality of their situation hit her again and she stopped to stare at him.


"There was no one here tonight. Why did you come after me?"

"You have that backwards, 452."

"You attacked me on a night when there was no traffic, why?!" she hissed, moving to her knees quickly. She gripped him by the neck of his shirt, pushing him back into the earthen wall behind.

"I didn't attack," White choked through her grasp.

The heat radiating from his eyes penetrated the cold facaude she'd fought so hard to keep controlled and in place. She was forced to relive the moment she'd realised he was there with her at the facility. She'd stepped back and turned around to head back to her Ninja. Her Ninja - now there was something she'd have to go back for and set about mending after this was over.

As soon as she'd turned halfway, she'd seen the shadow to her right and reacted. Their forearms clashed harshly as the first punch was blocked and they both took up an more defensive stance a few feet apart. But White was right, hers had been the first move and his had been to block. Then again, since when did the Familiar's presence mean anything else other than danger? It didn't matter. Her patience was wearing thin enough as it was without the added bonus of trying to figure out her excess baggage.

"So what, you're just playing stalker now?"

"Hardly," he replied with a roll of his eyes. He rubbed absently at his throat as she sat up on her haunches away from him, her hands releasing their iron grip on his neck.

"Then why..."

"Because they don't know that!" he snapped, cutting her off. "Because I'm supposed to kill you. You're the one my father said could be our salvation and to them it's heresy."

"I thought you and yours were all set to inherit the Earth and damn the weak. What happened to that Familiar faith of yours?" Max asked sceptically.

White didn't appreciate the mocking tone in her voice and his gaze became a stony glare.

"I want my son," he replied flatly.

"And I'm guessing they don't?"

White scowled and glanced away, his eyes focusing on some distant point while his mind mulled everything over again. It was a process he'd followed many times since losing Ray. But, he still didn't have any answers.

"You know where he is. Tell me."

His words bordered on demanding, but the look he gave her was asking what he could not have asked of her - not yet.

"Not in a position to be making demands are you?" Max countered.

She had detected the quality of his gaze, but glazed over it to avoid caving in. It was becoming harder to deny that everything was beginning to add up with White. His own mission countering that of his precious Conclave, right down to his core beliefs; a father he fought so hard to escape as a younger man, now treading the line he'd once refused to cross; the deep exhaustion she could see in his features, even his physical stance, when she looked closely. Losing Ray hadn't broken him completely, after all, he was a Familiar. It had, however, shaken the foundations around him enough to cause cracks to form. With that in mind, she couldn't give in. White was an enemy - her enemy.

"Your kind never really had parents, did they?" White asked, his voice softer than before and lacking all sarcasm and insincerity. "You'd have had a birth mother of course. Would you have liked to have known her, 452?"

"My name's Max," she said simply and tried to avoid his attempts and a deep-and-meaningful. He'd told her once that he'd studied Law. She didn't want to play into any of his games by taking part in lawyer-like tactics in discussion.

"How do you think Ray feels in all of this? How do you feel knowing you've taken a child away from his father, Max?"

Max was shocked less by the audacity of his simple questions and more by his use of her name. Only hours earlier he had vowed never to address her as anything beyond some numerical designation and now he was calling her Max? This was a bargaining ploy at no mistake, and one she wouldn't fall for.

"I'm sorry about the kid, I really am. He doesn't deserve all this shit just because you're his father, but he's better off where he is," she said, careful to keep her voice low.

"He belongs with his father."

"You arrogant asshole! You think you're really the best person to have in his life right now? You're a killer, Ames," Since he'd brought them up to first name terms, she saw no point in holding back now. "You've helped launch a war you can't finish and win. Look at you! The only reason you're not dead already is because for some stupid reason, a transgenic is helping you."

White didn't say anything. Instead he stared at her, knowing she was only half right. He was alive because of her, but he was in this mess because he'd sought her out. How the hell would he ever explain being reduced to something so desperate and pitiful? He didn't know if he had it in him.

"Do you think that's what he needs?" she continued, oblivious to his strangely calm lack of response. "A father that hates and kills and destroys? A father that cares more about some Conclave rite of passage than his own son's life? A father who murdered the mother of his child - Ames what do you say when Ray asks where is mother went or why?"

"I love my son," White breathed and Max could tell her words had caught him off guard. He looked physically shaken, even more so in his beaten and wounded state.

"If you were capable of love, you wouldn't be the man you are. You call us freaks and abominations, but you're more of a monster than any one of Manticore's kind."

Her words were honest and frank, but sounded almost hollow in her head. She couldn't make her tone accusing or angry now if she tried. In truth, because looking at him now, she pitied him more than anything else.

"I'll find him with or without your help."

With no will to continue arguing, Max turned her attention to the blood-stained patches on his shirt. For some reason her spate of home-truths hadn't angered him and it felt important to keep their mood that way. They didn't have to be found now. In his present condition, White would never make it out at a straight run. Resting was good for both of them and for now, they were well hidden.

"Bleeding's stopped," she muttered to him as she checked his shoulder wound.

White didn't reply. He simply watched her concern with amazement as she reached out to touch the monster she'd so eloquently described. Why didn't she hesitate? Surely after all she'd said, she couldn't possibly think he was worth taking care of. How could she seem to want to save him even when he didn't want to be saved? He'd almost betrayed his own self-loathing to her earlier that night. Could she have noticed on some level? Did he really want her to?

"How long until you can walk out of here?"

"Few hours," White replied as he closed his eyes. There was obviously no need to hide the fact that he was in bad shape. Heck, he'd even passed out on her. If he could actually have a few hours to himself, he'd have a shot at getting his blood count up and healing a little more. Gain more control to quell the phantoms, the pain that ate away at him. Maybe then he'd get to shirk the indignity of needing a transgenic's help.

"Get some rest then," she said, her seemingly uncaring facaude slipping into place.

White stared at her as he had so many times before launching of some volley of insults, but this time he remained silent. He watched her until she went behind a nearby tree to stand guard before he shifted around in an attempt to get more comfortable. Staring out into the darkness with nothing but the light breeze rustling through the trees drifting back to his ears, the world began to bleed into the darkness of peace.

Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: All Dark Angel characters belong to James Cameron and Charles Eglee (Cameron Eglee Productions) and Dark Angel itself belongs to FOX...it's just not fair is it? *Sob*

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