BPart XII: If It Ain't Broke…/BP
ILate last night I tripped in violent shades of greenBR
1000 voiceless faces were chasing me BR
I ran through the air as thick as glue BR
Through night as black as hate my spirit fled BR
Through branches filled with thorns my eyes bled and bled BR
How could I ever hope to win this race BR
When every time I close my eyes I see your face?/IBR
Doyle rode into the early evening, entirely unsure of what he was going to do but knowing that Cordelia was his responsibility and that he had to bring her back. He hadn't felt purpose for duty intertwined with passion like this in a long time. I**Not since the Quintessa.**/I It seemed everything since then had been done mechanically, with duty and with decorum, but never with all his heart. Of course, he desired war's end and peace as much as anyone else did; it was just that he would have preferred the whole ordeal to go forth without him, without being privy to his personal crises of faith to the cause, to his anguish over the graves of friends and even those of strangers.P
He didn't know if he felt good or not. To have some sort of fire boiling under him once more. It was the vengeful type, yes, the type aroused wholly by anger at himself, at Maj, and Cordy, at Saeryth, at the injustice that was his life. He'd only started out to be a teacher, after all. It had been all he'd really wanted. Maybe a family, a nice house, a car that wasn't propped up by bricks more days of the year than it was actually on tires. But then, all of this. He looked around him, as he rode towards human territory, the borders on which the battles were oftentimes fought. He saw a landscape battered with countless generations of battle, burn-scarred rocks and blood-stained dirt. So close, these opposing forces were. He'd reach Saeryth's camp shortly after midnight. I**Then what, boyo? You don't even have a plan. Just rushin' in there…jumpin' in. Ya did that before, and look where it got ya.**/I He groaned and rubbed the throbbing bridge of his nose. So much responsibility. She was counting on him. She'd been his responsibility, to take care of, to be able to return to Angel, safe and sound, one day. He owed his friend, and himself, that much. P
"Plan," he muttered to himself, urging his nameless black forward. "Think, man." P
She'd be under heavy guard. Knowing Saeryth. Or she'd be dead. If she was…the throbbing in the back of his head expanded. She wasn't. Saeryth would try to draw information from her, among other things, the seductive bastard. And if he knew Cordy, she'd draw it out as long as possible. I**What the hell am I gonna do?**/I He could try for a covert rescue…find out where she was, take out the guards. Assuming he didn't run into any of the border patrols. I**Damn it. Damn it! I should just opt fer a trade…Saer wants me more'n he wants her, to kill, in any case. Wouldn't it be easier that way? Get her out, get it over with. Get everything over with…**/I he stopped himself at thoughts of death. Suicide was stupid. If he was going to die, he might as well be doing something worthwhile with it. I**Look where that got you the first time…**/I He growled and smacked his palm into his forehead. Everything seemed so hopeless. Sighing, he slumped into his mount. I**All right ya moody bastard. See if'n ya can't get her out covertly first, an' if not, you'll go fer the trade…** /IP
~~~~~~~P
"Like I said before, then…it just started getting bright…I don't know exactly what happened," she stated with an air of finality, weary from the day-long interrogation. I**Sure, he got called to go out after lunch to do stuff. I've been tied up and stuck talking to or waiting for him in HERE all day**/I she thought sulkily to herself, looking out the slit in the tent's door, at the sound of evening coming to life with the disappearance of sunlight. P
"What weapon has Doyle found that holds that kind of power?" Saeryth inquired, looking more interested than disgusted that he'd been defeated in such a manner. He got points for looking at the glass as half full. P
"I…I don't know," Cordelia told him hastily, still lying through her teeth and hoping to the PTBs that Saeryth was taking it all in. "I mean, I just got there when you attacked, it's not like they had time to explain anything to me before we had to rush out." P
He heard that hitch again, there in her words as the thoughts connected rapidly to one another in her web of lies. He gave her points there, for being so quick witted, it was rather quite impressive. He looked her over once more. "It pains me to suggest this, Cordelia, but..." he grew cold again. "I think you're lying. Trying to protect your comrades perhaps, a worthy attempt, but logic forces me to regard your story with disbelief." P
She tried to seem oblivious to his accusation, as if she couldn't fathom the logic behind it. In reality, her mind was flicking itself and calling her names. I**Stupid, stupid, stupid, why did you have to get a villain who thinks? What ever happened to the good old Batman baddies of the week?**/I she thought rather self pityingly. P
He leaned forward and grasped her chin seductively in his hand. "And on observing you these past few hours, observing how utterly enchanting you are, how intelligent, how quick witted, I have reached what I believe to be a rather fitting conclusion." He paused for drama, for a breath, for a triumphant look to be shared between enemies. "I think that you're the weapon," he stated rather bemusedly. P
He watched when Cordelia started visibly at the accusation, her russet eyes widening like saucers for a split second, and in that, he saw that he was getting somewhere. P
She tried to pull out of his grasp, but the gentleness tightened into something firm. "What makes you think that?" she asked, bringing her hands up to tug weakly at his forearm in resistance. "I could just be an entertaining conversationalist."P
He snorted, pretense of suggestiveness gone once he had latched on to the right scent. "Oh please, dearest. Give me some credit. The day you arrive and something this large happens almost immediately? The coincidence is beyond reproof." He gently released her face and stood straight up again, at the side of the bed. "What I've yet to figure out now, is how to get this to work to my advantage…" P
Cordelia was struck with the unfairness of it all. The villains in Superman couldn't even discern he was Clark Kent because of a dinky pair of glasses and she gets the guy who, from the looks of things, could do a whole Rubix cube in the time it took to brush his teeth. "I…"P
Seeing her hesitation, he smiled in triumph. "So I was correct."P
She made as if to protest.P
He cut her off with a wave of her hand. "There's no use protesting my dear, I can see I've hit the target head on. Now please. Tell me how you work."P
She bit her bottom lip as his eyes lit up, the prospect of uncovering a magnificent secret, something that might just win him the whole shebang. Like he'd go right through her for his answers. "I honestly…I'm not sure how I work," she responded. Seeing that he seemed to take her answer at face value (he really was good at discerning lies and truths… how absolutely frustrating!) she decided to try and turn the tables on him. The clues had been pointing all day towards him, and something she might venture to call gut instinct was niggling at the bottom of her belly (though it may just have been the extremely dry bread…) about General Saeryth. "I was sent here by the Powers That Be."P
Saeryth looked amused at the obviousness of her statement. "They were all sent here by the Powers, my dear." The condescending note in his voice made her grit her teeth. P
"Will you let me finish?" she ground out, without thinking. P
He raised a brow at her. "Quite a short temper I see," he observed archly, though he seemed more amused than annoyed. "But my sincerest apologies. Please, do continue."P
"Like I was saying, I was sent here with these strange powers, and a mission," she stated. "But it's kind of fuzzy."P
"It's been my experience that omniscient beings, or those who believe they are, in any case, tend to try and be haughtily vague," he agreed, disdainfully. P
"Well yeah. They told me to look for an anomaly," she started, looking at him to catch his reaction. Seeing that he'd frozen a bit, she continued, encouraged. "They want me to find someone different, someone who stands out above the crowds," she continued. "And they want me to help him win this war. That's all they'd tell me. And here I am." Maybe, just maybe, she could lure him in. Cleanse him. The more she saw of him, the more convinced she was that he was her mission here. Wasn't it obvious? To make good of the very leader of the opposing armies seemed the most surefire way to aid Doyle in his effort to save this dimension. And so far, all the clues had clicked conveniently into place. She would heal him of the blight, whatever evil had infected his kind millennia ago. P
He, seeing the wheels turning in her head but deciding that perhaps there was more to this than he could immediately discern, only appeared thoughtful. "Nothing is ever as it seems with the Powers…" he pondered aloud. "Perhaps, you were truly sent here to assure my victory?"P
I**He may be smart but he's still as much of a glory hound as anyone else in military service.**/I Outwardly, she just shrugged. "I'm not sure. Do you feel out of place here?"P
"Every day," he responded without hesitation. "Have you seen those animals out there? eating and scratching and rolling in their own filth like content swine? They all disgust me." P
"Well, that might be it," she responded, neutrally. *I*Hello superiority complex. Though all the clues seem to be pointing here. Guess he's the one?**/I P
"Or…" he regarded her with amusement. "…the Powers did precisely as planned and placed you in the exact position to commence with your mission in the most expedient manner possible. You never really know with supposedly 'higher' beings, and I for one refrain from trusting in them, or giving credence to their omniscience altogether." P
She studied him a moment. "But still, you never know." P
"No, I suppose not." He clasped his hands behind his back and watched her hawkishly. "You've still not told me what it is you do to them, Cordelia. What changes them? What makes them differ so between each other even as the final result of the same treatment? It's really quite baffling." P
I**Oh, that sounds like a queue**/I Cordelia thought, standing up (though progress was slow due to her bound hands). "Are you really that curious?" she asked gently. P
He watched her, she could see the wariness in his eyes, but to his credit, he didn't step back, didn't falter in his expression. P
"You're different, I can feel it. Maybe you'll end up different too," she whispered, regarding him with studious expression, like she was trying to suss him out through the spark in his eyes alone. P
This time he did step back, reading something in her expression that he didn't care for. Something more demure than before, something completely and utterly sure of itself. He looked her up and down cagily. "Perhaps you should sit down," he intoned.P
"Maybe you should be the one to sit," she responded lightly, feeling her blood begin to warm, to hum in preparation under her skin. "And close your eyes."P
~~~~~~~~P
It seemed like fate didn't want him to reach the encampment. Doyle eyed his traitor horse out of the corner of his eye. Damn thing had to come up lame. If the stupid beast had a name, he would have cursed at it so prolifically the Powers themselves would be able to hear. As it was, he could barely keep the frustrated scream within the confines of his throat, having to remind himself constantly that human border patrols were probably within earshot to do so. With his luck they were over the next ridge. So instead, he sat on a rock under a tree while his equestrian companion grazed indolently at his side, looking for all the world as if nothing was wrong, save for a slight favoring of the front left leg. Doyle scowled and tossed a pebble at it. I**So, now what? You walk and you won't get there 'til daybreak, boyo. You always hafta take the same horse, dontcha? Animal doesn't even have a damn name. Out of some misplaced loyalty, must be. Shoulda taken one o' the fresh ones that didn't go inta the battle…**/I P
He grunted and threw another pebble at his mount, the horse leaning against the rock, looking back at Doyle with dark eyes that seemed to berate him for his lack of empathy. The horse was lame, after all. Doyle ignored him. P
Well, he could walk towards the camp. He'd get there by morning. And thus his chances of sneaking Cordy off into the night had gone from slim to nil. He'd hoped, some part of him had in any case, that he'd be able to slide into the camp under cover of darkness, incapacitate her guards, and have the two of them slip off into the shadows. He laughed humorlessly to himself. That sounded like something Angel could pull off, not him. The trade had been his best chance after all. Looking at his horse once more, he stood up off the rock and began to unpack a canteen of water and some field rations to carry with him. The animal, limping, butted him in the shoulder with its nose. P
He tried to scowl at it, but realized that was just stupid. "Stay here," he muttered, giving it a mandatory pat before moving out of the small clearing. He heard the animal shuffle, trying to follow despite its limp. He turned around. "Stupid animal. Look here, horse…" he grabbed its reins and stared it in the eye. "Stay put, would ya? I'll tell Cordy to come get ya on her way back…" P
It nudged the side of its face against his hand. P
Doyle eyed it curiously. "Uh, thanks?" shaking his head, he turned around again and headed off. P
~~~~~~~~~P
She wasn't either afraid or in awe of him any more. In fact, it looked as if she'd unlocked some great mystery to the universe and was ready to share it with him. Whatever it was, the tables seemed turned and he wasn't sure whether it made him want to ravish or kill her more. He eyed her standing there, watched her take a deep breath before committing herself. P
"Your boldness is intriguing," he muttered, not having been faced with a situation such as this before. He quirked his head sideways, studying her curiously. P
She looked at him with calm eyes. "The rules all point to you," she told him, just as cryptic as the Powers she'd denounced before.P
"My dear, I don't play by any set of rules but my own," he responded coolly, stepping towards her, hoping to intimidate her back into a nature more subdued, more fitting of a prisoner of war. P
Instead, she stepped forward too, closed the distance between them until he stood, not a foot from her. "Maybe it's time you did," she responded, voice warm, inviting. The temperature of the tent suddenly escalated. She held out her hands to him.
His brow furrowed, trying to see what she was playing at. It was as if some foreign force had taken up residence inside of her and was making her do these things he'd so previously discerned as out of her character. Her face was flushed golden, and there seemed a spirit of energy returned to her. He took her by the wrist of one arm, if only to see if she was indeed as warm as she appeared, mind not working, body functioning automatically, out of some strange, newly developed instinct. It was a mistake he'd soon be kicking himself for.P
The fingers of her other hand curled around his and at the touch he was all but incapacitated, his brain screaming at his muscles to withdraw, though her fingers stayed firmly wrapped around the offending appendage. He struggled to pull back with his whole body, but she held firm with some physically invisible force, and pulled him even closer. The palms of both hands came up against his chest. P
A light started burning at the places where he touched her; he could feel his blood reacting under his skin, to her presence. He tried to pull out from such close proximity again, expression wide and slightly panicked as his mind raced in search of a way to free himself. His instincts bade him to flee from the threat she truly presented. Everything about her began to seem more and more off-putting. P
Light began pouring from the orifices of her head, from her fingertips, the edges of her skin. Dully, his mind wondered if she'd explode. It warmed, starting a fuzzy yellow, like hot embers in the fire pits. The light began to expand outwards from her, her skin growing whiter, the reach of her luminosity extending far beyond her own body and encircling his, causing the entire tent to throb with explosive brightness. He opened his mouth to try and stop her, futilely, his voice was lost in the sensations of his blood, boiling beneath his skin, of something piercing his skin, his body, straight into his essence, like a hand groping around his insides in search of lost treasure. It felt like a rip in his very soul, punctured by the light that poured from Cordelia's body, invading him, violating his essence. P
He fought it with every fiber of his being. P
Cordelia pushed her hands against his chest, allowing for her demonic powers to reach into him, to try and pull out the darkness that infected his mind and body. The darkness always felt cold. A burning cold. She leaned her body against his, closer still, seeking to destroy. And when she found it, she could feel her powers begin their work, begin flushing it out of him and trying to shake its hold on him, the work of thousands of invisible arms. P
Still, he resisted her. He should have slumped from the exhaustion now, should have fallen over at the force with which he'd been hit. Instead, he stood firm, pushing back even as she wrapped herself against him to try and expedite the process. P
As her physical body did, her demon essence also felt the resistance, found that the darkness stood firm against the tsunami wave of her efforts, loosened only slightly, tenaciously holding on to the ground in which it had been residence of for so long. Redoubling her efforts, she amassed her concentration onto one spot, rooted around until she usurped his staying power and lifted with one great heave, the evil in its entirety.P
He could likewise feel a part of himself being ripped away; felt the internal shaking as her confounded powers invaded every orifice of his body, a disease of warm light. He snarled. She couldn't have it. Whatever she was taking away from him, he wouldn't let her get it. Saeryth, unlike so many, was completely content with who he was, every aspect of it, every good quality, every fault. He refused to let her steal something within him to keep for herself. He needed it. P
She didn't know whether it was his resistance, his willfulness to stop her invasion of his psyche or the sheer amount of evil in him, but suddenly there was rejection, she could feel herself withdrawing far too fast. And just like that, her powers pulled out of him, swirling back at her at light speed, leaving the room dark to and painful to the eyes. She staggered back from the force, landed back onto the bed with a startled yelp.P
Saeryth in contrast, was slammed backwards and into the bookshelf when his dark essence was catapulted back within himself, settling back into its original foothold with a decided, organ shaking thud. The back of his head slammed against the wood of the bookcase unceremoniously, sending a myriad of volumes to the floor, sending a glass bauble plummeting, to shatter into shimmering grains on the ground beside him. He slumped, unconscious.P
Cordelia held her head in her hands, blinking dumbly at the roof of the tent. "What the hell just happened?" she muttered, groaning to find the muscle required to sit up.P
Breia rushed in, having been near enough to hear it when the crash occurred.
"Sir? General?" She bent down and tenderly nudged him, put her fingers on the back of his head to search for blood. When Cordelia groaned and sat up, her attention turned to the prisoner. "What happened?"P
"I don't know…I was trying… he…" P
Breia frowned. "You threw him?" P
"Yeah… something like that." Cordelia rubbed tiredly at her temples. "Is he okay?"P
"Unconscious," Breia responded, looking him over, feeling only a slight wetness at her fingertips where she'd touched him. "He's bleeding." P
"Oh." Cordelia looked around nervously. "He wouldn't…oh…kill me for that, would he?"P
The colonel started. "I hadn't thought of that. I mean… he generally dislikes striking females, considers it ungentlemanly." She looked at the blood drying between her fingertips. "He would kill you," she finished, weak. P
Cordelia swallowed. "Maybe he wasn't the one."P
"What?"P
"Nothing."P
"We have to get you out of here," Breia stated, standing up. "He will be out for a time yet. We must…"P
Cordelia was stunned. I**That I wasn't expecting.**/I "How? I mean, there are guards and stuff, aren't there? And the army?"P
Breia stood up and drew a knife from her boot. "I have no men, remember?" she asked. "They were taken. Saeryth has been busy with you all day and had not time to send me more. There are few guards and cooks around. The camp is dark…we'll, we'll get you a horse." She used the dagger to cut away the rope binding Cordelia's hands.P
Still bewildered, the younger girl looked up, eyes full of questions. "Wont this get you in trouble?"P
The Colonel chanced a look back at her commanding officer. "He won't know. Come." She took Cordelia's hand and led her out of the tent, creeping them behind it. "Stay here…stay hidden," she instructed, placing the former prisoner behind a nearby tree. "I will prepare a mount." Without waiting for an answer, she snuck off into the night.P
~~~~~~~~~P
Doyle had made good time. Five miles on foot and it was only the ninth hour. He would have been faster but evasion of a border patrol three miles back had cost him thirty minutes as they road past and he was forced to hide until they were assuredly gone. Then he had trudged on, directly towards the faint glows of campfires that could be seen in the distance. He would be there by morning, before sunrise. Little comfort. P
Sighing, he scratched at the stitches on his arm and wondered what Maj would say to the men during morning announcements when his absence would be noted by the army en masse. It had pained him to reveal to his friend the slow, methodical destruction of his empathy by war, had hurt to lose that idealism that everyone seemed to look at him with, like he could change the tide by hoping enough, by caring enough. He couldn't. He'd never been able to, of course. He just hated to let everyone down. They'd believed in him. To reveal he was starting to care less and less seemed like betrayal. I**But it's true. It takes too much energy to be so concerned now…energy that you don't have, man.**/I
He trudged on. What little fire he could conjure up came only with Cordelia's face behind his eyelids. He needed to get her back. He was responsible for tens of thousands of deaths, hers would not be one of them. All the nameless, faceless men he'd helped slaughter, if their deaths effected him so, how would hers? Unthinkable. He could not be responsible for her loss. He'd risked everything before, to see her safe, to think his efforts would be self-thwarted made his insides quiver in unpleasant ways. I**She's in love,**/I he reminded himself. I**She's in love with Angel. She has so much waiting for her. Not like me.**/I He remembered that her life had always been worth more than his, in his own eyes. She would live. She would. Even if he did not. P
ILate last night I tripped in violent shades of green BR
1000 voiceless faces were chasing me BR
I ran through the air as thick as glue
Through night as black as hate my spirit fled BR
Through branches filled with thorns my eyes bled and bled BR
How could I ever hope to win this race BR
When every time I close my eyes I see your face?P
~~~~~~~~~~/I
ILate last night I tripped in violent shades of greenBR
1000 voiceless faces were chasing me BR
I ran through the air as thick as glue BR
Through night as black as hate my spirit fled BR
Through branches filled with thorns my eyes bled and bled BR
How could I ever hope to win this race BR
When every time I close my eyes I see your face?/IBR
Doyle rode into the early evening, entirely unsure of what he was going to do but knowing that Cordelia was his responsibility and that he had to bring her back. He hadn't felt purpose for duty intertwined with passion like this in a long time. I**Not since the Quintessa.**/I It seemed everything since then had been done mechanically, with duty and with decorum, but never with all his heart. Of course, he desired war's end and peace as much as anyone else did; it was just that he would have preferred the whole ordeal to go forth without him, without being privy to his personal crises of faith to the cause, to his anguish over the graves of friends and even those of strangers.P
He didn't know if he felt good or not. To have some sort of fire boiling under him once more. It was the vengeful type, yes, the type aroused wholly by anger at himself, at Maj, and Cordy, at Saeryth, at the injustice that was his life. He'd only started out to be a teacher, after all. It had been all he'd really wanted. Maybe a family, a nice house, a car that wasn't propped up by bricks more days of the year than it was actually on tires. But then, all of this. He looked around him, as he rode towards human territory, the borders on which the battles were oftentimes fought. He saw a landscape battered with countless generations of battle, burn-scarred rocks and blood-stained dirt. So close, these opposing forces were. He'd reach Saeryth's camp shortly after midnight. I**Then what, boyo? You don't even have a plan. Just rushin' in there…jumpin' in. Ya did that before, and look where it got ya.**/I He groaned and rubbed the throbbing bridge of his nose. So much responsibility. She was counting on him. She'd been his responsibility, to take care of, to be able to return to Angel, safe and sound, one day. He owed his friend, and himself, that much. P
"Plan," he muttered to himself, urging his nameless black forward. "Think, man." P
She'd be under heavy guard. Knowing Saeryth. Or she'd be dead. If she was…the throbbing in the back of his head expanded. She wasn't. Saeryth would try to draw information from her, among other things, the seductive bastard. And if he knew Cordy, she'd draw it out as long as possible. I**What the hell am I gonna do?**/I He could try for a covert rescue…find out where she was, take out the guards. Assuming he didn't run into any of the border patrols. I**Damn it. Damn it! I should just opt fer a trade…Saer wants me more'n he wants her, to kill, in any case. Wouldn't it be easier that way? Get her out, get it over with. Get everything over with…**/I he stopped himself at thoughts of death. Suicide was stupid. If he was going to die, he might as well be doing something worthwhile with it. I**Look where that got you the first time…**/I He growled and smacked his palm into his forehead. Everything seemed so hopeless. Sighing, he slumped into his mount. I**All right ya moody bastard. See if'n ya can't get her out covertly first, an' if not, you'll go fer the trade…** /IP
~~~~~~~P
"Like I said before, then…it just started getting bright…I don't know exactly what happened," she stated with an air of finality, weary from the day-long interrogation. I**Sure, he got called to go out after lunch to do stuff. I've been tied up and stuck talking to or waiting for him in HERE all day**/I she thought sulkily to herself, looking out the slit in the tent's door, at the sound of evening coming to life with the disappearance of sunlight. P
"What weapon has Doyle found that holds that kind of power?" Saeryth inquired, looking more interested than disgusted that he'd been defeated in such a manner. He got points for looking at the glass as half full. P
"I…I don't know," Cordelia told him hastily, still lying through her teeth and hoping to the PTBs that Saeryth was taking it all in. "I mean, I just got there when you attacked, it's not like they had time to explain anything to me before we had to rush out." P
He heard that hitch again, there in her words as the thoughts connected rapidly to one another in her web of lies. He gave her points there, for being so quick witted, it was rather quite impressive. He looked her over once more. "It pains me to suggest this, Cordelia, but..." he grew cold again. "I think you're lying. Trying to protect your comrades perhaps, a worthy attempt, but logic forces me to regard your story with disbelief." P
She tried to seem oblivious to his accusation, as if she couldn't fathom the logic behind it. In reality, her mind was flicking itself and calling her names. I**Stupid, stupid, stupid, why did you have to get a villain who thinks? What ever happened to the good old Batman baddies of the week?**/I she thought rather self pityingly. P
He leaned forward and grasped her chin seductively in his hand. "And on observing you these past few hours, observing how utterly enchanting you are, how intelligent, how quick witted, I have reached what I believe to be a rather fitting conclusion." He paused for drama, for a breath, for a triumphant look to be shared between enemies. "I think that you're the weapon," he stated rather bemusedly. P
He watched when Cordelia started visibly at the accusation, her russet eyes widening like saucers for a split second, and in that, he saw that he was getting somewhere. P
She tried to pull out of his grasp, but the gentleness tightened into something firm. "What makes you think that?" she asked, bringing her hands up to tug weakly at his forearm in resistance. "I could just be an entertaining conversationalist."P
He snorted, pretense of suggestiveness gone once he had latched on to the right scent. "Oh please, dearest. Give me some credit. The day you arrive and something this large happens almost immediately? The coincidence is beyond reproof." He gently released her face and stood straight up again, at the side of the bed. "What I've yet to figure out now, is how to get this to work to my advantage…" P
Cordelia was struck with the unfairness of it all. The villains in Superman couldn't even discern he was Clark Kent because of a dinky pair of glasses and she gets the guy who, from the looks of things, could do a whole Rubix cube in the time it took to brush his teeth. "I…"P
Seeing her hesitation, he smiled in triumph. "So I was correct."P
She made as if to protest.P
He cut her off with a wave of her hand. "There's no use protesting my dear, I can see I've hit the target head on. Now please. Tell me how you work."P
She bit her bottom lip as his eyes lit up, the prospect of uncovering a magnificent secret, something that might just win him the whole shebang. Like he'd go right through her for his answers. "I honestly…I'm not sure how I work," she responded. Seeing that he seemed to take her answer at face value (he really was good at discerning lies and truths… how absolutely frustrating!) she decided to try and turn the tables on him. The clues had been pointing all day towards him, and something she might venture to call gut instinct was niggling at the bottom of her belly (though it may just have been the extremely dry bread…) about General Saeryth. "I was sent here by the Powers That Be."P
Saeryth looked amused at the obviousness of her statement. "They were all sent here by the Powers, my dear." The condescending note in his voice made her grit her teeth. P
"Will you let me finish?" she ground out, without thinking. P
He raised a brow at her. "Quite a short temper I see," he observed archly, though he seemed more amused than annoyed. "But my sincerest apologies. Please, do continue."P
"Like I was saying, I was sent here with these strange powers, and a mission," she stated. "But it's kind of fuzzy."P
"It's been my experience that omniscient beings, or those who believe they are, in any case, tend to try and be haughtily vague," he agreed, disdainfully. P
"Well yeah. They told me to look for an anomaly," she started, looking at him to catch his reaction. Seeing that he'd frozen a bit, she continued, encouraged. "They want me to find someone different, someone who stands out above the crowds," she continued. "And they want me to help him win this war. That's all they'd tell me. And here I am." Maybe, just maybe, she could lure him in. Cleanse him. The more she saw of him, the more convinced she was that he was her mission here. Wasn't it obvious? To make good of the very leader of the opposing armies seemed the most surefire way to aid Doyle in his effort to save this dimension. And so far, all the clues had clicked conveniently into place. She would heal him of the blight, whatever evil had infected his kind millennia ago. P
He, seeing the wheels turning in her head but deciding that perhaps there was more to this than he could immediately discern, only appeared thoughtful. "Nothing is ever as it seems with the Powers…" he pondered aloud. "Perhaps, you were truly sent here to assure my victory?"P
I**He may be smart but he's still as much of a glory hound as anyone else in military service.**/I Outwardly, she just shrugged. "I'm not sure. Do you feel out of place here?"P
"Every day," he responded without hesitation. "Have you seen those animals out there? eating and scratching and rolling in their own filth like content swine? They all disgust me." P
"Well, that might be it," she responded, neutrally. *I*Hello superiority complex. Though all the clues seem to be pointing here. Guess he's the one?**/I P
"Or…" he regarded her with amusement. "…the Powers did precisely as planned and placed you in the exact position to commence with your mission in the most expedient manner possible. You never really know with supposedly 'higher' beings, and I for one refrain from trusting in them, or giving credence to their omniscience altogether." P
She studied him a moment. "But still, you never know." P
"No, I suppose not." He clasped his hands behind his back and watched her hawkishly. "You've still not told me what it is you do to them, Cordelia. What changes them? What makes them differ so between each other even as the final result of the same treatment? It's really quite baffling." P
I**Oh, that sounds like a queue**/I Cordelia thought, standing up (though progress was slow due to her bound hands). "Are you really that curious?" she asked gently. P
He watched her, she could see the wariness in his eyes, but to his credit, he didn't step back, didn't falter in his expression. P
"You're different, I can feel it. Maybe you'll end up different too," she whispered, regarding him with studious expression, like she was trying to suss him out through the spark in his eyes alone. P
This time he did step back, reading something in her expression that he didn't care for. Something more demure than before, something completely and utterly sure of itself. He looked her up and down cagily. "Perhaps you should sit down," he intoned.P
"Maybe you should be the one to sit," she responded lightly, feeling her blood begin to warm, to hum in preparation under her skin. "And close your eyes."P
~~~~~~~~P
It seemed like fate didn't want him to reach the encampment. Doyle eyed his traitor horse out of the corner of his eye. Damn thing had to come up lame. If the stupid beast had a name, he would have cursed at it so prolifically the Powers themselves would be able to hear. As it was, he could barely keep the frustrated scream within the confines of his throat, having to remind himself constantly that human border patrols were probably within earshot to do so. With his luck they were over the next ridge. So instead, he sat on a rock under a tree while his equestrian companion grazed indolently at his side, looking for all the world as if nothing was wrong, save for a slight favoring of the front left leg. Doyle scowled and tossed a pebble at it. I**So, now what? You walk and you won't get there 'til daybreak, boyo. You always hafta take the same horse, dontcha? Animal doesn't even have a damn name. Out of some misplaced loyalty, must be. Shoulda taken one o' the fresh ones that didn't go inta the battle…**/I P
He grunted and threw another pebble at his mount, the horse leaning against the rock, looking back at Doyle with dark eyes that seemed to berate him for his lack of empathy. The horse was lame, after all. Doyle ignored him. P
Well, he could walk towards the camp. He'd get there by morning. And thus his chances of sneaking Cordy off into the night had gone from slim to nil. He'd hoped, some part of him had in any case, that he'd be able to slide into the camp under cover of darkness, incapacitate her guards, and have the two of them slip off into the shadows. He laughed humorlessly to himself. That sounded like something Angel could pull off, not him. The trade had been his best chance after all. Looking at his horse once more, he stood up off the rock and began to unpack a canteen of water and some field rations to carry with him. The animal, limping, butted him in the shoulder with its nose. P
He tried to scowl at it, but realized that was just stupid. "Stay here," he muttered, giving it a mandatory pat before moving out of the small clearing. He heard the animal shuffle, trying to follow despite its limp. He turned around. "Stupid animal. Look here, horse…" he grabbed its reins and stared it in the eye. "Stay put, would ya? I'll tell Cordy to come get ya on her way back…" P
It nudged the side of its face against his hand. P
Doyle eyed it curiously. "Uh, thanks?" shaking his head, he turned around again and headed off. P
~~~~~~~~~P
She wasn't either afraid or in awe of him any more. In fact, it looked as if she'd unlocked some great mystery to the universe and was ready to share it with him. Whatever it was, the tables seemed turned and he wasn't sure whether it made him want to ravish or kill her more. He eyed her standing there, watched her take a deep breath before committing herself. P
"Your boldness is intriguing," he muttered, not having been faced with a situation such as this before. He quirked his head sideways, studying her curiously. P
She looked at him with calm eyes. "The rules all point to you," she told him, just as cryptic as the Powers she'd denounced before.P
"My dear, I don't play by any set of rules but my own," he responded coolly, stepping towards her, hoping to intimidate her back into a nature more subdued, more fitting of a prisoner of war. P
Instead, she stepped forward too, closed the distance between them until he stood, not a foot from her. "Maybe it's time you did," she responded, voice warm, inviting. The temperature of the tent suddenly escalated. She held out her hands to him.
His brow furrowed, trying to see what she was playing at. It was as if some foreign force had taken up residence inside of her and was making her do these things he'd so previously discerned as out of her character. Her face was flushed golden, and there seemed a spirit of energy returned to her. He took her by the wrist of one arm, if only to see if she was indeed as warm as she appeared, mind not working, body functioning automatically, out of some strange, newly developed instinct. It was a mistake he'd soon be kicking himself for.P
The fingers of her other hand curled around his and at the touch he was all but incapacitated, his brain screaming at his muscles to withdraw, though her fingers stayed firmly wrapped around the offending appendage. He struggled to pull back with his whole body, but she held firm with some physically invisible force, and pulled him even closer. The palms of both hands came up against his chest. P
A light started burning at the places where he touched her; he could feel his blood reacting under his skin, to her presence. He tried to pull out from such close proximity again, expression wide and slightly panicked as his mind raced in search of a way to free himself. His instincts bade him to flee from the threat she truly presented. Everything about her began to seem more and more off-putting. P
Light began pouring from the orifices of her head, from her fingertips, the edges of her skin. Dully, his mind wondered if she'd explode. It warmed, starting a fuzzy yellow, like hot embers in the fire pits. The light began to expand outwards from her, her skin growing whiter, the reach of her luminosity extending far beyond her own body and encircling his, causing the entire tent to throb with explosive brightness. He opened his mouth to try and stop her, futilely, his voice was lost in the sensations of his blood, boiling beneath his skin, of something piercing his skin, his body, straight into his essence, like a hand groping around his insides in search of lost treasure. It felt like a rip in his very soul, punctured by the light that poured from Cordelia's body, invading him, violating his essence. P
He fought it with every fiber of his being. P
Cordelia pushed her hands against his chest, allowing for her demonic powers to reach into him, to try and pull out the darkness that infected his mind and body. The darkness always felt cold. A burning cold. She leaned her body against his, closer still, seeking to destroy. And when she found it, she could feel her powers begin their work, begin flushing it out of him and trying to shake its hold on him, the work of thousands of invisible arms. P
Still, he resisted her. He should have slumped from the exhaustion now, should have fallen over at the force with which he'd been hit. Instead, he stood firm, pushing back even as she wrapped herself against him to try and expedite the process. P
As her physical body did, her demon essence also felt the resistance, found that the darkness stood firm against the tsunami wave of her efforts, loosened only slightly, tenaciously holding on to the ground in which it had been residence of for so long. Redoubling her efforts, she amassed her concentration onto one spot, rooted around until she usurped his staying power and lifted with one great heave, the evil in its entirety.P
He could likewise feel a part of himself being ripped away; felt the internal shaking as her confounded powers invaded every orifice of his body, a disease of warm light. He snarled. She couldn't have it. Whatever she was taking away from him, he wouldn't let her get it. Saeryth, unlike so many, was completely content with who he was, every aspect of it, every good quality, every fault. He refused to let her steal something within him to keep for herself. He needed it. P
She didn't know whether it was his resistance, his willfulness to stop her invasion of his psyche or the sheer amount of evil in him, but suddenly there was rejection, she could feel herself withdrawing far too fast. And just like that, her powers pulled out of him, swirling back at her at light speed, leaving the room dark to and painful to the eyes. She staggered back from the force, landed back onto the bed with a startled yelp.P
Saeryth in contrast, was slammed backwards and into the bookshelf when his dark essence was catapulted back within himself, settling back into its original foothold with a decided, organ shaking thud. The back of his head slammed against the wood of the bookcase unceremoniously, sending a myriad of volumes to the floor, sending a glass bauble plummeting, to shatter into shimmering grains on the ground beside him. He slumped, unconscious.P
Cordelia held her head in her hands, blinking dumbly at the roof of the tent. "What the hell just happened?" she muttered, groaning to find the muscle required to sit up.P
Breia rushed in, having been near enough to hear it when the crash occurred.
"Sir? General?" She bent down and tenderly nudged him, put her fingers on the back of his head to search for blood. When Cordelia groaned and sat up, her attention turned to the prisoner. "What happened?"P
"I don't know…I was trying… he…" P
Breia frowned. "You threw him?" P
"Yeah… something like that." Cordelia rubbed tiredly at her temples. "Is he okay?"P
"Unconscious," Breia responded, looking him over, feeling only a slight wetness at her fingertips where she'd touched him. "He's bleeding." P
"Oh." Cordelia looked around nervously. "He wouldn't…oh…kill me for that, would he?"P
The colonel started. "I hadn't thought of that. I mean… he generally dislikes striking females, considers it ungentlemanly." She looked at the blood drying between her fingertips. "He would kill you," she finished, weak. P
Cordelia swallowed. "Maybe he wasn't the one."P
"What?"P
"Nothing."P
"We have to get you out of here," Breia stated, standing up. "He will be out for a time yet. We must…"P
Cordelia was stunned. I**That I wasn't expecting.**/I "How? I mean, there are guards and stuff, aren't there? And the army?"P
Breia stood up and drew a knife from her boot. "I have no men, remember?" she asked. "They were taken. Saeryth has been busy with you all day and had not time to send me more. There are few guards and cooks around. The camp is dark…we'll, we'll get you a horse." She used the dagger to cut away the rope binding Cordelia's hands.P
Still bewildered, the younger girl looked up, eyes full of questions. "Wont this get you in trouble?"P
The Colonel chanced a look back at her commanding officer. "He won't know. Come." She took Cordelia's hand and led her out of the tent, creeping them behind it. "Stay here…stay hidden," she instructed, placing the former prisoner behind a nearby tree. "I will prepare a mount." Without waiting for an answer, she snuck off into the night.P
~~~~~~~~~P
Doyle had made good time. Five miles on foot and it was only the ninth hour. He would have been faster but evasion of a border patrol three miles back had cost him thirty minutes as they road past and he was forced to hide until they were assuredly gone. Then he had trudged on, directly towards the faint glows of campfires that could be seen in the distance. He would be there by morning, before sunrise. Little comfort. P
Sighing, he scratched at the stitches on his arm and wondered what Maj would say to the men during morning announcements when his absence would be noted by the army en masse. It had pained him to reveal to his friend the slow, methodical destruction of his empathy by war, had hurt to lose that idealism that everyone seemed to look at him with, like he could change the tide by hoping enough, by caring enough. He couldn't. He'd never been able to, of course. He just hated to let everyone down. They'd believed in him. To reveal he was starting to care less and less seemed like betrayal. I**But it's true. It takes too much energy to be so concerned now…energy that you don't have, man.**/I
He trudged on. What little fire he could conjure up came only with Cordelia's face behind his eyelids. He needed to get her back. He was responsible for tens of thousands of deaths, hers would not be one of them. All the nameless, faceless men he'd helped slaughter, if their deaths effected him so, how would hers? Unthinkable. He could not be responsible for her loss. He'd risked everything before, to see her safe, to think his efforts would be self-thwarted made his insides quiver in unpleasant ways. I**She's in love,**/I he reminded himself. I**She's in love with Angel. She has so much waiting for her. Not like me.**/I He remembered that her life had always been worth more than his, in his own eyes. She would live. She would. Even if he did not. P
ILate last night I tripped in violent shades of green BR
1000 voiceless faces were chasing me BR
I ran through the air as thick as glue
Through night as black as hate my spirit fled BR
Through branches filled with thorns my eyes bled and bled BR
How could I ever hope to win this race BR
When every time I close my eyes I see your face?P
~~~~~~~~~~/I