Author: Chippewa Livingston
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material
related to Dark Angel.
23. Mission briefing
I heard the chair's wheels squealing as he got up, and kicked his boots under the table. His profile was dark against the window for a moment, and I heard the bathroom door close, and water running.
I needed to understand why I was angry.
Sure, I was tired. I understood that. I had been on my feet all day, then fighting, and more running. My 'new' camouflage coat was still wrapped around me. I had been too tired to take it off.
I tried to remember when I'd tipped over from annoyed to angry.
****
"I'm sorry about that. I should have let the little twit get her butt kicked. Daddy could have picked up his little girl at the hospital," he said. His whisper was rough, and bitter. He glanced back towards the street, and whatever was following us.
For some stupid reason, I imagined Lucid surrounded by the technical tangle of life-support equipment and surgeons in green scrubs. Trying to put a broken toy back together. How could he be so casual about that kid getting hurt?
"Did I just say the wrong thing again?" Even in the dim light, I could tell his eyes were fixed on me.
My stomach felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out. I'm not supposed to be like this. I'm supposed to get my ass kicked once a day, and come back for twice on Sunday. I turned my back on him. I didn't know what my face was doing.
"I want us to split up. The guy can only follow one of us at a time."
Pull yourself together, girl. He's talking sense.
****
I briefly considered curling up right here in the corner and going to sleep.
Instead, I left my sneakers in the corner, hung my jacket on the back of one of the chairs, and turned on the light. The apartment depressed me even more than it had when I left that morning. I could map out where pictures had been hung. There were light squares of clean wall surrounded by dirty beige. Maybe the carpet had a color, once, a long time ago.
"What are you thinking?" he asked. I turned to look at him. He stood in the doorway of the little bathroom.
The first thing that popped into my mind was "What are we going to do with a kid?"
He didn't say anything for a moment. "I don't know. I've just been telling myself it's another assignment."
"We can't even keep ourselves out of trouble!" I protested.
"We're still alive. Isn't that enough?" He folded his arms across his bare chest. No, it isn't. I could still see scars from old fights. I knew who had made most of those marks on him. They were fading from pink to white, and would be gone in a few more months. I didn't think I'd forget his pain, even if he seemed to have let it drift out of his mind.
"Do you really want to subject a kid to this?" I gestured towards the filthy carpet.
"So we get rid of the rug, and re-paint."
"Not just the apartment. Everything." If a full-grown transgenic didn't have a chance, how could Lucid? How long would eight pounds of infant last, out here--, outside the fence? Something that couldn't even hold up its own head.
"Lots of people seem to be able to get by." I watched his bare feet cross the floor, and felt his finger slide across my cheek. "If the kid turns out anything like you, he or she will do considerably better than *get by*."
"I don't want a kid like me!" I snarled. "I don't want my baby learning to say 'Sir' before. . ."
"Easy," he whispered. "I only know how I grew up, but I'm pretty sure there are other ways to raise kids. We'll find out."
"I've never done this before."
"Well, it is a pretty strange assignment. And we haven't been properly briefed." His smile was the one that usually means he's amused. "The really odd thing -- I think what we are doing is totally legal."
"That IS new."
"I think we've had enough for one day." He put an arm around my shoulders. "Are you coming to bed?"
"Yeah." Fatigue had soaked into me like used motor oil. I wanted today to be over.
End Episode One.
An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment, Episode Two will be coming soon!
23. Mission briefing
I heard the chair's wheels squealing as he got up, and kicked his boots under the table. His profile was dark against the window for a moment, and I heard the bathroom door close, and water running.
I needed to understand why I was angry.
Sure, I was tired. I understood that. I had been on my feet all day, then fighting, and more running. My 'new' camouflage coat was still wrapped around me. I had been too tired to take it off.
I tried to remember when I'd tipped over from annoyed to angry.
****
"I'm sorry about that. I should have let the little twit get her butt kicked. Daddy could have picked up his little girl at the hospital," he said. His whisper was rough, and bitter. He glanced back towards the street, and whatever was following us.
For some stupid reason, I imagined Lucid surrounded by the technical tangle of life-support equipment and surgeons in green scrubs. Trying to put a broken toy back together. How could he be so casual about that kid getting hurt?
"Did I just say the wrong thing again?" Even in the dim light, I could tell his eyes were fixed on me.
My stomach felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out. I'm not supposed to be like this. I'm supposed to get my ass kicked once a day, and come back for twice on Sunday. I turned my back on him. I didn't know what my face was doing.
"I want us to split up. The guy can only follow one of us at a time."
Pull yourself together, girl. He's talking sense.
****
I briefly considered curling up right here in the corner and going to sleep.
Instead, I left my sneakers in the corner, hung my jacket on the back of one of the chairs, and turned on the light. The apartment depressed me even more than it had when I left that morning. I could map out where pictures had been hung. There were light squares of clean wall surrounded by dirty beige. Maybe the carpet had a color, once, a long time ago.
"What are you thinking?" he asked. I turned to look at him. He stood in the doorway of the little bathroom.
The first thing that popped into my mind was "What are we going to do with a kid?"
He didn't say anything for a moment. "I don't know. I've just been telling myself it's another assignment."
"We can't even keep ourselves out of trouble!" I protested.
"We're still alive. Isn't that enough?" He folded his arms across his bare chest. No, it isn't. I could still see scars from old fights. I knew who had made most of those marks on him. They were fading from pink to white, and would be gone in a few more months. I didn't think I'd forget his pain, even if he seemed to have let it drift out of his mind.
"Do you really want to subject a kid to this?" I gestured towards the filthy carpet.
"So we get rid of the rug, and re-paint."
"Not just the apartment. Everything." If a full-grown transgenic didn't have a chance, how could Lucid? How long would eight pounds of infant last, out here--, outside the fence? Something that couldn't even hold up its own head.
"Lots of people seem to be able to get by." I watched his bare feet cross the floor, and felt his finger slide across my cheek. "If the kid turns out anything like you, he or she will do considerably better than *get by*."
"I don't want a kid like me!" I snarled. "I don't want my baby learning to say 'Sir' before. . ."
"Easy," he whispered. "I only know how I grew up, but I'm pretty sure there are other ways to raise kids. We'll find out."
"I've never done this before."
"Well, it is a pretty strange assignment. And we haven't been properly briefed." His smile was the one that usually means he's amused. "The really odd thing -- I think what we are doing is totally legal."
"That IS new."
"I think we've had enough for one day." He put an arm around my shoulders. "Are you coming to bed?"
"Yeah." Fatigue had soaked into me like used motor oil. I wanted today to be over.
End Episode One.
An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment, Episode Two will be coming soon!