Arcanum:

Almost a Memory

by

Kel

Disclaimer: I don't presume to own Dark Angel or any of it's characters. I gain no profit from this fiction, other than pride and joy and hopefully reviews. Oh yeah, X5-213 is mine. So are Doctor Marlowe and his assistants, but they're not as special. : P

Chapter 2: Traitors

He glanced at his watch. 2:05 pm. Almost four days since phase one of the experiment had begun. "Canning!" he called out.

One of the four human soldiers that had been assigned to his aid entered his office. "Yes, Doctor Marlowe?" He stood in front of the desk which Dr. Marlowe sat behind.

"It's been long enough. You and your men bring them in."

Canning nodded and left.

Dr. Marlowe took a sip of his coffee and looked down at the two files that lay open on the desk. X5-452 and X5-213.

He rose and left the office. It was time to begin phase two.

"213, can I tell you something?" 452 asked, her voice low and soft.

The two of them sat side by side on the cot in their cell, leaning back against the wall. 213's foot hung off the end of the cot, and he was swinging it rhythmically back and forth.

He turned his head briefly toward her, flashing her a grin. "Sounds like you probably can."

She smiled softly, staring into the space in front of her. "Do you promise you won't tell?"

"Of course." All humour was gone from his voice.

She became even quieter. "Zack says we should leave."

He lifted his foot onto the cot and turned to face her.. "Leave. As in . . . leave Manticore?"

She met his eyes. "Well . . . Some of my other unit think that it might be better . . . safer. Out there."

213 bit his lower lip for a moment, before nodding and averting his gaze. "What if it's not?"

452 thought about this for a moment. "I . . . I don't know."

He nodded again, thinking. After another moment, he looked back into her eyes. "If you go . . . you can't come back. No matter how bad it is. No matter what."

She was puzzled. "Why not?"

"Because, 452 . . . They won't like it. If you go, they'll chase you. If you come back, they'll punish you. Maybe even . . . terminate you." A tear slipped down his cheek. Emotion was acceptable between them. "Don't come back. No matter what."

She gently brushed the tear away with her thumb, and ran her hand over his hair. A tear spilled down her cheek as well, but she didn't break their shared gaze. "You know . . . you have cool eyes." She smiled. "But they're all wet."

"Promise me, 452."

"I'll try. I'll try my hardest."

"And . . . and 452?" His bottom lip trembled. "Don't forget me?"

She pulled away from him as if she had been shocked. Forget him? That would mean . . . "Come with us," she blurted. He had to go with them. How could she just leave him here? A good soldier never leaves a man behind. . . .

"You know I can't," 213 whispered. There was no way it could work.

452 let out a small sob. They weren't soldiers in here.

213 snapped his head up, hearing something in the distance. "Someone's coming."

TRAITOR

A picture of a young girl with dark, closely-shaven hair flashed on the screen. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true.

ENEMY

How was it even possible?

The picture appeared again. She wore military fatigues. Her dark eyes were cold. There was nothing in them. All traces of the warmth he had seen were gone.

He had trusted her! She had been his family; his unit. She was the only person he knew he could trust. He had shown her his weaknesses, and she had accepted him; even helped him! There was no way she could have done this, unless . . .

Unless it had all been a lie.

Unless she wasn't his family. He was her target. He wasn't her brother, he wasn't her unit. He was a number. A statistic. He was her orders.

INFILTRATOR

She had infiltrated his thoughts, his feelings. She had gotten to know him, gotten him to trust her, so she could betray him to the enemy. She was the enemy.

There he was, the traitor himself.

He had found his way into her life, gained her trust. And now he was trying to take her out. She was his job.

He had betrayed her in the worst way possible. She had trusted him like she trusted her real unit. He had made her believe he was her family; her friend, just so he could find her weaknesses and use them against her.

She raged inside. He was the enemy. She hated him. He was gunning for her, but she would take him out before he got the chance to hurt her any more.

On the other side of the two-way mirror, two children circled each other. Their movements were anger, their eyes were hellfire.

They did not speak. Their hatred could not be channeled with mere words.

213 swung his fist. 452 took the hit full in the face and slammed to the floor.

She flipped herself back to her feet, and with a roar, she lunged at him.

Dr. Marlowe smiled. Everything was going just as planned.

Both of them were bruised, bloody, and panting harshly. Neither of them had spoken a word since the officers had arrived and removed them from their isolation cell.

213 ducked below her fist and grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her. She pushed herself backwards, slamming him into the wall. She turned to attack, when he hit her in the stomach with a combat boot.

She let herself fall and swept his feet out from under him with her leg. The two of them leapt to their feet and came at each other again. She tried to punch him in the face, he blocked her. He tried to punch her in the gut, she blocked him.

213 connected with a hit to her cheek, and she spun away slightly.

452 backhanded him viciously across his temple, moving her whole body with the blow and sending him spinning into the wall behind him.

As spots danced in his vision, 213's fury melted into despair. "Why didn't you just kill me when they brought me in?" His voice was hoarse with unshed tears. He sunk to the floor and turned to face her. "Do you like hurting me?" he groaned.

He watched himself in the large mirror set into the wall opposite him, unable to meet her cold stare. His face was marred with cuts and bruises, but it was his eyes that struck him yet another painful blow. The hurt in their dark depths was unbearable to look at, and he averted his gaze to the floor.

452 took a step back from him, curling her lip in disgust. "I pitied you," she spat. "Wasn't that what you wanted? For me to think you were vulnerable while you plotted against me?"

"What are you talking about?" 213's eyes snapped up to 452, a liquid hot rage joining the pain. "I trusted you!"

"You've got a funny way of showing it, traitor."

"You're sick, do you know that?" he snapped.

"And you're weak. You can't even complete your own mission. I won't let you complete it."

213 frowned. "What mission?"

"Don't try to deny it, I know what you're doing," 452 hissed at him.

No. No, no, no, this couldn't be happening. 213 stared up at her. She thought . . . she thought he had betrayed her. "You didn't know there would be someone else, did you?" he whispered.

452 stared at him, and slowly shook her head. He could see the honesty in her eyes.

"Neither did I," he continued. Neither of them had known they would share a cell. They didn't have any idea. They hadn't even known they would ever meet, because neither of them knew anything of the other.

And they both thought the other had betrayed them. . . . When neither of them had.

That meant . . . it was all Manticore.

End Chapter 2