Careful, 767, careful, her mind said in the smooth relaxed tones of someone who knows exactly what they will say and has all the time in the world to say it. Slow down, fool, you want to crash or something?
This was the sarcastic voice that popped up in 767's head all day, volunteering comments and solutions. She trusted this voice, it was entirely her. She loved that little voice.
And that was what 418 had said, that day in the car, wasn't it? Three five-year-olds, two six-year-olds and a man, the man dead for her stupidity.
That day, it was why for many years 767 had had a phobia of riding in a car.
Of course, she didn't mind driving. She absolutely loved being in control. Push a pedal: it makes the car go faster. Pull a lever: set it in another gear. Easy. Perfect.
She hadn't thought it was so easy and perfect when they'd started to learn to drive cars when they were in their late childhood. She'd started convulsing rapidly and screaming when they'd tried to make her get in a car.
Of course, Manticore wasn't stupid. While the X5s, at eleven years old, were smart enough to learn to drive a car, they'd never put even an X5 in charge of an actual car. They'd put together some small machines, with engines and pedals and a single seat, for the kids to practice in. She wouldn't get in. They'd punched her in the face, again and again, trying to make her stop until they finally hauled her off to Psy-Ops for analysing.
It had been late at night and little five-year-old 767 had been padding back from the bathroom when a big strange shape had loomed out of the darkness.
A man. A stranger. But not threatening, or even particularly authorative. She had no desire to call this man Sir. But she did, because it was the first thing they'd ever been taught.
"Hello, little girl."
She'd wondered vaguely if that was an insult. What the heck was a girl supposed to be? Gir-ull. Girl. G-E-R-L-L, she thought childishly. That spells GIRL.
"Who're you, sir?"
"Why don't you tell me who you are?"
767 had considered this. "I am Ex-Fyve."
"That's what they call you?"
"Mmm. Ex-Fyve Sevvun-Six-Sevvun. I'm one. One of others. Colonel Hardy says we're a big group."
"How old are you, X5-767?"
She answered swiftly. "I'm five yea's old and I'm one of youngest others."
"Can you tell me what you do here?"
What a silly question. He was a Big Person. Big People knew everything.
"I do tests."
"What kind?"
"They teach me to fight... to treat wounds... to name countries."
"Countries?"
"Yeah. I have a brother who can name the capital of every country in the world in alphabe'ical order."
"And how old is your brother?"
"Six."
"How long have you been able to read, 767?"
"Since I could sit up. They teach you how to do ev'ry'fing here so we can be great soldiers and defend the country."
"You know, there's not a war going on right now, 767."
"I know that. But my unit member, 657, figured out that they're getting us ready because a huge war will be fought when we grow up. We're special, but she's the most special. She's smart. I wanna be jus' like her when I grow up."
"How old is she?"
"Five yea's old."
He looked down at her with what 767 now knew was pity and sadness, and she resented that. Nobody had any business pitying her.
What a life she led.
He'd told her he'd seen their lives, seen the way they were taught and drilled and he wanted to help them. He told her to pick two sisters and two brothers and he'd help them see the Outside.
Only she was on the Outside now, wasn't she?
She'd picked her two favourite brothers, her partners in crime. 418 and 472, they were an easy choice. She then decided on 657, her mentor and role model, the greatest, most brilliant female X5 had ever known. She'd always respected 657 with all her heart.
Looking around the dormitory at bedtime, she'd needed another girl. There were so many she would have wanted to see the Outside with her but finally she picked 799, her little shadow. 799 worshipped her in a way that struck a funny bell, because she took all of 799's adoration and heaped it upon 657.
Still, it didn't mean 799 was her favourite or anything. Even at five years old, she'd enjoyed jerking people around. She couldn't stand rotten cliches. Besides, they'd be back. Perhaps he'd take the others too.
She'd gathered them, told them, told them it was a mission to get them to come. They sat in the back of the car as he skidded on the wet road and went off the road, slamming into a tree. He'd been trying to stop at the sight of a gang of soldiers and SUVs all over the road.
He was killed instantly. She remembered it well, his head cracked and body slumped in his seat.
418 had started to cry and 657 had simply sat in her seat, mouth gaping, stunned. She'd never even rode in a car before.
X5-799 had been knocked silly by the crash and had been cradling her head in her hands, just murmuring. "Hurts," she'd said in a puzzled voice, like she hadn't been aware that silly Ordinary thing called pain applied to her. "Hurts."
472 began to struggle against his seatbelt. He broke it easily, but with such fervour that the car actually lurched forward.
And she'd started to scream.
Not just a babyish snivel of upset. She'd been completely aware it was her screaming. Her jaw ached from being held open. She made no move to remove herself from the car, just stared and screamed wildly.
"Stop doing that!" That was 418, bewildered by the funny noise his younger sister was making.
The soldiers had broken open the doors. 657 had promptly been extremely sick upon being fetched out of the car, but with little concern for herself hiccupped, "Was our mis'on good, sir?"
They'd tried to put 767 into another car, to take her back to base, but oh no. She wasn't getting in there with some incompetent Big Person at the wheel. She bellowed and kicked and threw the biggest and violent tantrum the Washington base had ever seen until they gave her a shot of something to make her calm down.
767 had read the reports. Apparently they'd been kidnapped. The man was intending to show the world what its tax dollars were being used for- creating cute little killing machines. Just some man on a mission. Pathetic.
Finally she stopped the truck and got out to look around, shading her eyes with her hand.
There was a body lying facedown in the high grass, a little way off among the trees.
DON'T GO BACK FOR A FALLEN SOLDIER, her instincts prompted. DON'T GO BACK FOR A FALLEN SOLDIER.
767 ran to turn the body over and gasped.
"472!" she hissed, shaking him. "472, are you OK?"
The pulse was strong. He wrenched his eyes open and gazed blankly at her.
He wasn't dead. He was in an awful way, with grazes and cuts all over his face and neck and a giant bruise forming on his forehead, but he wasn't dead. She could have sung if she didn't know how tone-deaf she was.
"472," she said gently. "Hey. Gimme a smile, c'mon." This was their old old joke.
He breathed in sharply and exhaled loudly, smiling painfully.
"Tripped over. Smacked my head." Suddenly, a wicked grin appeared on his face. "767! You look so... so..."
She shoved him roughly off her knees and glared profusely at him.
"What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and-"
"Shut UP," she ordered bossily.
"Damn, damn good thing you found me, 767. Nearly got hit about eleven times in the attack last night."
"Yeah... what WAS that?" she asked.
"My guess is- well, actually, I have no clue. Can you help me up?"
She pulled him into a sitting position. "Betcha it was the Great War happening."
"You won't let go of that, will you? I stopped believing in the Great War when I was nine."
"Well, I stopped when I was ten. I wasn't THAT backward, you pathetic asshole. I'm making a joke."
"Hey, don't 'freak out' on me, 767. I'm good at those joke things too, you know. Damn, damn good. I'm going with you back to base- I don't think I'll be able to make it back alone."
767 smirked. "Whatever. It'll be good to get back to ground. I expect we'll be sleeping in tents 'til the foetus is burned to a crisp and done for ten minutes more." Microwave humour? the sarcastic little voice in her head moaned.
"I hate to say it but your sense of humour leaves somethin' to be desired. So you're pregnant?"
"Yeah. Since when did I ever 'screw up' a mission, 472?"
"Not in all your twenty-one years." He smiled bravely at her. She hauled him to his feet and escorted him to the truck, heaping her X5 sibling into the passenger seat.
He smirked at her. His smirk was almost as good as hers, but she took pride in the fact that apart from the Smirk she had an arsenal of other intimidating facial expressions, including the Glare, the Sneer, the Glower and the I'm-Gonna-Tear-You-Into-Little-Pieces look.
"Nice wheels. I like the Happy Meal boxes all over the floor- damn, damn tasteful. Really."
"Fuck off," she said, gunning it.
"You steal it?"
"Yep. You telling?"
"You violated protocol."
"I had to. The driver was a sleaze."
"Yeah, the Commitee's just gonna love that."
"The Commitee will have their hands full," said 767 patronisingly. "Besides, I did that guy a favour."
"How so?"
"This is what's commonly referred to as a 'shitheap'."
472 laughed. "And so you stole it because...?"
"Because I was smarter than him. Natural selection."
"Whatever you say."
Trees whirled past. He leaned back in his seat and winced. "My head really hurts."
"Try not to think about it. You know what I'm gonna do when base has rounded us all up?"
"What?"
"Have a shower and change into my day things. Burn these clothes. Eat something- ANYTHING. Even those vile power protein drinks are looking tasty right now."
"I can't eat. I'm not hungry- my mouth was blooded up. Everything will taste like bile."
She shot him a disgusted look. "472, I'm X5 as much as you are. I respect and cherish you as a unit member- but that, brother mine, was putrid. 'Too much information!'"
"I need a bandage. I need to sleep."
"So sleep."
"It's too bright... my eyes are damn, damn sore."
"You always are an ass when you're in pain."
He closed his eyes. "Yes, and I'm loving you too."
"You shouldn't need to sleep. I mean, exactly how long WERE you knocked out? I'm the one who was running around all night. But you do need to eat." She slowed the car and fumbled through the boxes before coming out with half a burger. "Here, chew on this."
472 opened his eyes the tiniest bit. "You want me to eat something an Outside person's mouth touched? I'll get rabies."
"Hey, don't even worry about it. I mean, it's not like it'll affect your behaviour or anything."
With difficulty, he took it from her. "That's cute, 767, damn, damn cute."
"What are you, scared?"
"No." Just to spite her, he took a big bite.
It was early evening before they reached Seattle, and 472 was getting worse. They were stopped at a sector checkpoint and of course, without ID, were hauled out.
"Names?" asked the officer. 472's eyes were unfocussed. "Hey, I asked you a question!"
"Lay off him, sir. He's... unwell." 767 gazed sadly at him, before steeling herself and sliding closer toward him on the bench. Before they could yell at her to separate, she'd hissed. "What the hell is with you, soldier? All you did was hit your head!"
He tried to sit up and managed to say, "I'm- Matt Liosis. This is my damn, damn charming girlfriend Carla Frank."
"Sweet girl, freaky matching tattoos," slimed the officer, touching the back of her neck. She slapped out at him.
"Don't call me a freak!" she barked.
"We'll have to mark you as failing to cooperate, Carla!"
"Whatever. I'm tired- come on, MATT, let's go." She went to help him, but the sector police asked she stay sitting.
"You'll be sorry you messed with me." she hissed in fury.
And they were.
"What the HELL is up with you?" she demanded half an hour later, having to slap him so he wouldn't drop off. It was all too difficult for her to refrain from punching him out. "FUCKING answer me!"
"I- I-"
They were parked outside some contaminated block of land.
"What?"
"I'm off my meds, sis. I'm malfunctioning. They're damn, damn... powerful drugs."
She groaned. "Manticore's been giving you drugs?"
"Yeah. That's why I wasn't in the programme. Would have really 'screwed up' a baby. I can barely withstand the side effects."
"Side effects?" she echoed. "What d'you mean, side effects?"
"Like... breaking down when I don't get 'em regularly."
"Regularly?" she asked in a dangerous voice.
"Morning and evening."
She exploded. "You could have TOLD me!"
"Well, I didn't... I didn't damn, damn think..." He looked up. "Hey, look at that."
Rolling her eyes, she looked up into the sky through the smeary windshield and stared at the light moving through the stars.
"Rendezvous..." she whispered.
He started seizing. On top of everything else, she had her hands full with a malfunctioning X5. Why her?
"Please... just hold... I'm falling," he begged.
"Hang on, stupid," she muttered. She climbed out, ran around to his side of the truck and opened the door. He pitched sideways. Teeth gritted slightly (not so much from effort as from resisting the temptation to scream), 767 dragged him out of the truck.
X5-472 gazed up at her like a little boy. "You're my best friend, I love you."
"No, you don't," she said firmly.
"We- we should... get going. Get going."
There was a long silence. When she spoke, it was hollowly. "I'm dropping you off at a hospital. I'll go to ground. I'll get them to come and pick you up, OK?"
"NO."
"472, I'm dropping you off at a hospital and getting help."
"THEY won't be able to help me!"
"I'm taking you to a hospital and that's final. I mean, what are you gonna do? Fight me?"
He protested wildly the entire way to Harbor Lights Hospital.
"I'd better head off," she said, setting him down on the front steps. "I- I promise on my heart that I will send troops to get you as soon as I reach the temporary base."
"Even... before you burn your nightclothes?"
"These disgusting nightclothes? Last priority, next to you."
X5-472 seemed to be trying to talk. "Have I ever told you how b-blue your eyes are?"
"Have I ever told you to shut up?" she said. God, even in the face of death he had to try a corny pickup line. "So long. And quit worrying- you'll be here a day and a night at the most, I promise."
"OK." 472 spoke dejectedly.
"See ya soon, best friend."
767 nodded awkwardly and rose to her feet. She had to get back to Manticore, or what was left of it.
A fellow soldier might not make it if she was slow.
* * *
DISCLAIMER: 'Dark Angel' belongs to Fox and James Cameron. Any songs from the 'soundtrack' belong to their respective owners. Not me. So don't sue.
NOTE: Just in case anyone's not clued in, 472 is Krit's clone. (Sorry if I screwed up the designation) And yes, I realise his habit of saying "Damn, damn." is annoying. Trust me, I'll take great joy out of doing it on Monday morning at school to test its annoying quotient. *SMIRKS EVILLY* If it seems to you sometimes that 472 has a crush on her (with the "Have I ever told you how blue your eyes are?" cracks and all), then you're absolutely spot on. Throughout childhood and adolescence he had the hots for her. Still feels wistful every now and then when he looks at her, you know? No offence if the "Damn, damn." routine pissed you off so much you wanted to clout him over the head, but that makes me feel a bit sorry for him sometimes.
'Freak Out' was written on a hot, sticky, gross day in my hot, sticky, gross house. In short, it's one ugly day, and I'm in an ugly mood. Please forgive me for the bile and blood jokes. Honestly, they seemed funny at the time.
My Internet is being a bitch, so if there are any complications with this chapter please let me know.
SONGS FOR CHAPTER TWO:
The Flashbacks- 'Another Brick In The Wall' by Class of '99
On The Road and The Doors of Harbour Lights- 'One Last Breath' by Creed
This was the sarcastic voice that popped up in 767's head all day, volunteering comments and solutions. She trusted this voice, it was entirely her. She loved that little voice.
And that was what 418 had said, that day in the car, wasn't it? Three five-year-olds, two six-year-olds and a man, the man dead for her stupidity.
That day, it was why for many years 767 had had a phobia of riding in a car.
Of course, she didn't mind driving. She absolutely loved being in control. Push a pedal: it makes the car go faster. Pull a lever: set it in another gear. Easy. Perfect.
She hadn't thought it was so easy and perfect when they'd started to learn to drive cars when they were in their late childhood. She'd started convulsing rapidly and screaming when they'd tried to make her get in a car.
Of course, Manticore wasn't stupid. While the X5s, at eleven years old, were smart enough to learn to drive a car, they'd never put even an X5 in charge of an actual car. They'd put together some small machines, with engines and pedals and a single seat, for the kids to practice in. She wouldn't get in. They'd punched her in the face, again and again, trying to make her stop until they finally hauled her off to Psy-Ops for analysing.
It had been late at night and little five-year-old 767 had been padding back from the bathroom when a big strange shape had loomed out of the darkness.
A man. A stranger. But not threatening, or even particularly authorative. She had no desire to call this man Sir. But she did, because it was the first thing they'd ever been taught.
"Hello, little girl."
She'd wondered vaguely if that was an insult. What the heck was a girl supposed to be? Gir-ull. Girl. G-E-R-L-L, she thought childishly. That spells GIRL.
"Who're you, sir?"
"Why don't you tell me who you are?"
767 had considered this. "I am Ex-Fyve."
"That's what they call you?"
"Mmm. Ex-Fyve Sevvun-Six-Sevvun. I'm one. One of others. Colonel Hardy says we're a big group."
"How old are you, X5-767?"
She answered swiftly. "I'm five yea's old and I'm one of youngest others."
"Can you tell me what you do here?"
What a silly question. He was a Big Person. Big People knew everything.
"I do tests."
"What kind?"
"They teach me to fight... to treat wounds... to name countries."
"Countries?"
"Yeah. I have a brother who can name the capital of every country in the world in alphabe'ical order."
"And how old is your brother?"
"Six."
"How long have you been able to read, 767?"
"Since I could sit up. They teach you how to do ev'ry'fing here so we can be great soldiers and defend the country."
"You know, there's not a war going on right now, 767."
"I know that. But my unit member, 657, figured out that they're getting us ready because a huge war will be fought when we grow up. We're special, but she's the most special. She's smart. I wanna be jus' like her when I grow up."
"How old is she?"
"Five yea's old."
He looked down at her with what 767 now knew was pity and sadness, and she resented that. Nobody had any business pitying her.
What a life she led.
He'd told her he'd seen their lives, seen the way they were taught and drilled and he wanted to help them. He told her to pick two sisters and two brothers and he'd help them see the Outside.
Only she was on the Outside now, wasn't she?
She'd picked her two favourite brothers, her partners in crime. 418 and 472, they were an easy choice. She then decided on 657, her mentor and role model, the greatest, most brilliant female X5 had ever known. She'd always respected 657 with all her heart.
Looking around the dormitory at bedtime, she'd needed another girl. There were so many she would have wanted to see the Outside with her but finally she picked 799, her little shadow. 799 worshipped her in a way that struck a funny bell, because she took all of 799's adoration and heaped it upon 657.
Still, it didn't mean 799 was her favourite or anything. Even at five years old, she'd enjoyed jerking people around. She couldn't stand rotten cliches. Besides, they'd be back. Perhaps he'd take the others too.
She'd gathered them, told them, told them it was a mission to get them to come. They sat in the back of the car as he skidded on the wet road and went off the road, slamming into a tree. He'd been trying to stop at the sight of a gang of soldiers and SUVs all over the road.
He was killed instantly. She remembered it well, his head cracked and body slumped in his seat.
418 had started to cry and 657 had simply sat in her seat, mouth gaping, stunned. She'd never even rode in a car before.
X5-799 had been knocked silly by the crash and had been cradling her head in her hands, just murmuring. "Hurts," she'd said in a puzzled voice, like she hadn't been aware that silly Ordinary thing called pain applied to her. "Hurts."
472 began to struggle against his seatbelt. He broke it easily, but with such fervour that the car actually lurched forward.
And she'd started to scream.
Not just a babyish snivel of upset. She'd been completely aware it was her screaming. Her jaw ached from being held open. She made no move to remove herself from the car, just stared and screamed wildly.
"Stop doing that!" That was 418, bewildered by the funny noise his younger sister was making.
The soldiers had broken open the doors. 657 had promptly been extremely sick upon being fetched out of the car, but with little concern for herself hiccupped, "Was our mis'on good, sir?"
They'd tried to put 767 into another car, to take her back to base, but oh no. She wasn't getting in there with some incompetent Big Person at the wheel. She bellowed and kicked and threw the biggest and violent tantrum the Washington base had ever seen until they gave her a shot of something to make her calm down.
767 had read the reports. Apparently they'd been kidnapped. The man was intending to show the world what its tax dollars were being used for- creating cute little killing machines. Just some man on a mission. Pathetic.
Finally she stopped the truck and got out to look around, shading her eyes with her hand.
There was a body lying facedown in the high grass, a little way off among the trees.
DON'T GO BACK FOR A FALLEN SOLDIER, her instincts prompted. DON'T GO BACK FOR A FALLEN SOLDIER.
767 ran to turn the body over and gasped.
"472!" she hissed, shaking him. "472, are you OK?"
The pulse was strong. He wrenched his eyes open and gazed blankly at her.
He wasn't dead. He was in an awful way, with grazes and cuts all over his face and neck and a giant bruise forming on his forehead, but he wasn't dead. She could have sung if she didn't know how tone-deaf she was.
"472," she said gently. "Hey. Gimme a smile, c'mon." This was their old old joke.
He breathed in sharply and exhaled loudly, smiling painfully.
"Tripped over. Smacked my head." Suddenly, a wicked grin appeared on his face. "767! You look so... so..."
She shoved him roughly off her knees and glared profusely at him.
"What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and-"
"Shut UP," she ordered bossily.
"Damn, damn good thing you found me, 767. Nearly got hit about eleven times in the attack last night."
"Yeah... what WAS that?" she asked.
"My guess is- well, actually, I have no clue. Can you help me up?"
She pulled him into a sitting position. "Betcha it was the Great War happening."
"You won't let go of that, will you? I stopped believing in the Great War when I was nine."
"Well, I stopped when I was ten. I wasn't THAT backward, you pathetic asshole. I'm making a joke."
"Hey, don't 'freak out' on me, 767. I'm good at those joke things too, you know. Damn, damn good. I'm going with you back to base- I don't think I'll be able to make it back alone."
767 smirked. "Whatever. It'll be good to get back to ground. I expect we'll be sleeping in tents 'til the foetus is burned to a crisp and done for ten minutes more." Microwave humour? the sarcastic little voice in her head moaned.
"I hate to say it but your sense of humour leaves somethin' to be desired. So you're pregnant?"
"Yeah. Since when did I ever 'screw up' a mission, 472?"
"Not in all your twenty-one years." He smiled bravely at her. She hauled him to his feet and escorted him to the truck, heaping her X5 sibling into the passenger seat.
He smirked at her. His smirk was almost as good as hers, but she took pride in the fact that apart from the Smirk she had an arsenal of other intimidating facial expressions, including the Glare, the Sneer, the Glower and the I'm-Gonna-Tear-You-Into-Little-Pieces look.
"Nice wheels. I like the Happy Meal boxes all over the floor- damn, damn tasteful. Really."
"Fuck off," she said, gunning it.
"You steal it?"
"Yep. You telling?"
"You violated protocol."
"I had to. The driver was a sleaze."
"Yeah, the Commitee's just gonna love that."
"The Commitee will have their hands full," said 767 patronisingly. "Besides, I did that guy a favour."
"How so?"
"This is what's commonly referred to as a 'shitheap'."
472 laughed. "And so you stole it because...?"
"Because I was smarter than him. Natural selection."
"Whatever you say."
Trees whirled past. He leaned back in his seat and winced. "My head really hurts."
"Try not to think about it. You know what I'm gonna do when base has rounded us all up?"
"What?"
"Have a shower and change into my day things. Burn these clothes. Eat something- ANYTHING. Even those vile power protein drinks are looking tasty right now."
"I can't eat. I'm not hungry- my mouth was blooded up. Everything will taste like bile."
She shot him a disgusted look. "472, I'm X5 as much as you are. I respect and cherish you as a unit member- but that, brother mine, was putrid. 'Too much information!'"
"I need a bandage. I need to sleep."
"So sleep."
"It's too bright... my eyes are damn, damn sore."
"You always are an ass when you're in pain."
He closed his eyes. "Yes, and I'm loving you too."
"You shouldn't need to sleep. I mean, exactly how long WERE you knocked out? I'm the one who was running around all night. But you do need to eat." She slowed the car and fumbled through the boxes before coming out with half a burger. "Here, chew on this."
472 opened his eyes the tiniest bit. "You want me to eat something an Outside person's mouth touched? I'll get rabies."
"Hey, don't even worry about it. I mean, it's not like it'll affect your behaviour or anything."
With difficulty, he took it from her. "That's cute, 767, damn, damn cute."
"What are you, scared?"
"No." Just to spite her, he took a big bite.
It was early evening before they reached Seattle, and 472 was getting worse. They were stopped at a sector checkpoint and of course, without ID, were hauled out.
"Names?" asked the officer. 472's eyes were unfocussed. "Hey, I asked you a question!"
"Lay off him, sir. He's... unwell." 767 gazed sadly at him, before steeling herself and sliding closer toward him on the bench. Before they could yell at her to separate, she'd hissed. "What the hell is with you, soldier? All you did was hit your head!"
He tried to sit up and managed to say, "I'm- Matt Liosis. This is my damn, damn charming girlfriend Carla Frank."
"Sweet girl, freaky matching tattoos," slimed the officer, touching the back of her neck. She slapped out at him.
"Don't call me a freak!" she barked.
"We'll have to mark you as failing to cooperate, Carla!"
"Whatever. I'm tired- come on, MATT, let's go." She went to help him, but the sector police asked she stay sitting.
"You'll be sorry you messed with me." she hissed in fury.
And they were.
"What the HELL is up with you?" she demanded half an hour later, having to slap him so he wouldn't drop off. It was all too difficult for her to refrain from punching him out. "FUCKING answer me!"
"I- I-"
They were parked outside some contaminated block of land.
"What?"
"I'm off my meds, sis. I'm malfunctioning. They're damn, damn... powerful drugs."
She groaned. "Manticore's been giving you drugs?"
"Yeah. That's why I wasn't in the programme. Would have really 'screwed up' a baby. I can barely withstand the side effects."
"Side effects?" she echoed. "What d'you mean, side effects?"
"Like... breaking down when I don't get 'em regularly."
"Regularly?" she asked in a dangerous voice.
"Morning and evening."
She exploded. "You could have TOLD me!"
"Well, I didn't... I didn't damn, damn think..." He looked up. "Hey, look at that."
Rolling her eyes, she looked up into the sky through the smeary windshield and stared at the light moving through the stars.
"Rendezvous..." she whispered.
He started seizing. On top of everything else, she had her hands full with a malfunctioning X5. Why her?
"Please... just hold... I'm falling," he begged.
"Hang on, stupid," she muttered. She climbed out, ran around to his side of the truck and opened the door. He pitched sideways. Teeth gritted slightly (not so much from effort as from resisting the temptation to scream), 767 dragged him out of the truck.
X5-472 gazed up at her like a little boy. "You're my best friend, I love you."
"No, you don't," she said firmly.
"We- we should... get going. Get going."
There was a long silence. When she spoke, it was hollowly. "I'm dropping you off at a hospital. I'll go to ground. I'll get them to come and pick you up, OK?"
"NO."
"472, I'm dropping you off at a hospital and getting help."
"THEY won't be able to help me!"
"I'm taking you to a hospital and that's final. I mean, what are you gonna do? Fight me?"
He protested wildly the entire way to Harbor Lights Hospital.
"I'd better head off," she said, setting him down on the front steps. "I- I promise on my heart that I will send troops to get you as soon as I reach the temporary base."
"Even... before you burn your nightclothes?"
"These disgusting nightclothes? Last priority, next to you."
X5-472 seemed to be trying to talk. "Have I ever told you how b-blue your eyes are?"
"Have I ever told you to shut up?" she said. God, even in the face of death he had to try a corny pickup line. "So long. And quit worrying- you'll be here a day and a night at the most, I promise."
"OK." 472 spoke dejectedly.
"See ya soon, best friend."
767 nodded awkwardly and rose to her feet. She had to get back to Manticore, or what was left of it.
A fellow soldier might not make it if she was slow.
* * *
DISCLAIMER: 'Dark Angel' belongs to Fox and James Cameron. Any songs from the 'soundtrack' belong to their respective owners. Not me. So don't sue.
NOTE: Just in case anyone's not clued in, 472 is Krit's clone. (Sorry if I screwed up the designation) And yes, I realise his habit of saying "Damn, damn." is annoying. Trust me, I'll take great joy out of doing it on Monday morning at school to test its annoying quotient. *SMIRKS EVILLY* If it seems to you sometimes that 472 has a crush on her (with the "Have I ever told you how blue your eyes are?" cracks and all), then you're absolutely spot on. Throughout childhood and adolescence he had the hots for her. Still feels wistful every now and then when he looks at her, you know? No offence if the "Damn, damn." routine pissed you off so much you wanted to clout him over the head, but that makes me feel a bit sorry for him sometimes.
'Freak Out' was written on a hot, sticky, gross day in my hot, sticky, gross house. In short, it's one ugly day, and I'm in an ugly mood. Please forgive me for the bile and blood jokes. Honestly, they seemed funny at the time.
My Internet is being a bitch, so if there are any complications with this chapter please let me know.
SONGS FOR CHAPTER TWO:
The Flashbacks- 'Another Brick In The Wall' by Class of '99
On The Road and The Doors of Harbour Lights- 'One Last Breath' by Creed
