Author's Notes: I know, I wrote that I wouldn't be writing in this fandom anymore. I hadn't meant to, and then I was thinking about what might come of the characters about which I'd already had so much fun writing. So I started "one last short story." Well, this short story is already way longer than I'd envisioned and has enough backstory for me to write one or two fairly well developed sequels. (And if a no-talent hack like me can come up with that much story, I think it makes one wonder what the hell the series' writers were doing during Season 2.)
This story is Rated R for language and content. Don't give me crap about offensive content – if you're sensitive, just don't read this.
Never Look Back takes place approximately 10 years after the events of Dark Angel's last episode, Freak Nation.
by
Nevermore
"Is this seat taken?" a young woman asked. Alec simply waved an inviting hand, not even bothering to look at the beaten-up barstool sitting next to him. He wasn't interested in the alluring female who now hung threateningly close to his personal space. Had she been larger (or male) he might have made some type of threat assessment; but a petite, mid-twenty-something woman didn't concern him enough to draw his attention away from the scotch in his glass.
The half-empty glass, he noted sadly. Or half-full. He was tempted to follow that train of thought, but chased it away. It'd been years since he'd indulged in the folly of self-analysis, attempting to determine whether he was a pessimist or optimist. Besides, that's a stupid test, he decided. Half-empty, half-full – it doesn't matter. Half-anything is useless. Half-hearted, half-baked, half-ass, half-way done… He shook his head, mentally dodging yet another uncomfortable thought. The uncomfortable thought.
Half-way done. The words teased him, refusing to flee from his alcohol-fueled race toward unconsciousness. Alec was prepared for the words' resilience – he'd been here before, faced this particular challenge. Half-way done. He drained his glass, raising it with his right hand to get the bartender's attention. He needed a refill. Half-way done… Nope, I'm hardly getting started, Alec told himself as he glanced at his watch. 7:30 P.M. Just another half-hour. Then Jack'll be here.
Jack was the owner's son, a young man who tended bar on Monday through Thursday nights. Alec had learned long ago that it paid to have a favorite bartender and to make certain that the tips let the bartender know how high he stood in Alec's view of the world. Jack was his favorite, due largely to the fact that he let Alec drink his scotch a bottle at a time, saving him the trouble of needing to ask for a refill every five minutes. Of course, Jack also kept his mouth shut and his eyes down. He respected Alec's privacy; he never asked questions; he never bothered with the usual bartender chitchat bullshit. For that luxury, Alec would have been willing to have his glass filled half a shot at a time.
"Stay here," Alec muttered to the bartender – he thought the middle-aged guy's name was Barry… or maybe Larry. He tossed back the freshly topped-off glass, and gestured for an immediate refill. Barry/Larry obliged, and then shuffled away to fill a glass of white zinfandel for a young, audaciously effeminate man sitting at the end of the bar.
Half-done. Half-done. Alec smiled ruefully. Jack'll be here soon, and then we'll see who's half-done, he threatened his subconscious.
"So what's her name?" Alec heard the young woman next to him ask. He knew she was addressing him – there was no one else close enough to be talking to with the bar so sparsely occupied – but he ignored her, hoping she'd do him the service of melting into the earth and leaving him alone.
"Hey, what's her name?" she continued, touching his arm lightly, as if to get his attention. His eyes were upon her the moment her skin touched his jacket, a quick, practiced evaluation intent on proving that she was, in fact, as irrelevant a threat as he'd initially concluded she was.
No weapons, he noted immediately. And she's small… too small to be a threat. He simply moved his arm away from her, hoping she'd get the message. Either she didn't or she decided to ignore it.
"She must have burned you pretty bad to make you clam up like this," the woman commented. Alec's only response was to gulp down his scotch and raise his glass again, yearning for the next mouthful of happiness. "And to drink like that," the woman added.
"Go away," Alec muttered, completely uninterested with propriety.
"I don't think you want me to go away," the woman replied.
"I do," Alec assured her. "Get lost."
"If you really wanted to be alone, you could just as easily have told me that the chair was occupied," she reasoned.
"I would have been lying."
"And is that a problem?"
"Look, miss," Alec spat, whirling to face her, his gaze passing over her again. "I --" He lost his words as he locked eyes on hers, immediately wondering how his first two glances hadn't revealed the sun-bright emeralds that stared back at him. Those can't be real, he reasoned. They must be contacts or something… He searched the edges of her irises but couldn't find the telltale outline of the contact lenses he was certain were present.
"What?" she asked, maintaining her own stare despite a conspicuously self-conscious tone. "What is it?"
"Go away," Alec told her again, tearing his own gaze away, focusing again on his glass. Twenty-five more minutes, he assured himself. Twenty-five minutes, and Jack'll be here.
"So was it a woman?" the woman asked. "Is that why you're doing the James Dean despondent routine?"
Alec ignored her.
"Because you know, whoever she is, she isn't worth it."
Alec still ignored her.
"In fact, I don't think anyone's worth the kind of devoted drinking you have going on." Alec was amazed that she was still prattling on, as if his requests for privacy had instead been a cry for help. "Just a few months ago, my roommate broke up with her boyfriend, and she was all messed up over it," she continued. "She's from Oregon, has really over-protective parents. Anyway, her boyfriend – his name's Paul – was the first guy she ever slept with. She was all convinced that they'd end up happily ever after or something, but then he dumped her and she totally went wiggins. She started drinking every night, and finally --"
"Why are you still here?" Alec interrupted.
"I'm telling you about my roommate."
"Do I really need to tell you how much I don't give a shit?"
"No, why don't you explain it to me?" the young woman said coolly, once again locking gazes with Alec. This time she was far more confrontational. I like it, Alec decided. Spunky. Again he looked her over, and as before when he'd noticed her eyes, he was amazed to find just how much he'd overlooked. Dark auburn hair, maybe 5'3", 110 lbs. Even though she's sitting down I can tell she's got a nice ass. And that's definitely a C-cup. And those eyes… He was amazed at the entire package and wondered at just what point in the past few years he'd stopped looking at people and started looking only at possible threats.
"I'm Alec," he said with bit of a nod and an almost imperceptible wave.
"Jana," she answered. "Nice to meet you." She smiled broadly, as if she'd just won some incredible prize. "So are you finally gonna tell me?"
"What?"
"What's her name?"
A shudder passed through Alec as he remembered a name from his past. Just three little letters… It's been what, ten years? I can't believe her name still does that to me. "There isn't anyone."
Barry/Larry set a Manhattan down in front of Jana, and for a moment Alec was forced to wonder when, and if, she'd ordered the cocktail. He couldn't remember her having talked to anyone but him. "I don't think you're being completely honest with me," she commented.
"You think I'm lying?" he asked, stupefied to hear a coy, flirtatious tone in his voice.
"Oh, god forbid I accuse you of lying," she said with a mischievous grin, taking a small sip of her drink with her right hand as her left hand went to her shiny auburn bangs, absently stroking her hair out of her eyes. She's flirting back! Alec realized. What do I do now? "Let's just say I think you're telling half-truths," she added, the grin growing ever-wider.
Half-truths. Half-done. Half-done. You left the job half-done, Alec. "I have to go," he apologized, quickly getting up and dropping a twenty on the bar. "I'll see ya."
"What?" Jana asked. "Was it something I said?"
Alec didn't answer. He practically darted out the door and set a course for the nearest liquor store. I didn't want to stay there, anyway, he told himself. I can get drunk just as easily at home, and I won't have to deal with nosy, busy-body chicks.
"You'll never get me to talk," White growled defiantly. Alec locked his gaze with his captive, his face a blank, expressionless mask. For the briefest moment he saw a flash of something – doubt? concern? fear? – in White's eyes. Must have been my imagination, Alec decided.
"I don't expect you to talk," Alec responded coolly. "At least not yet, anyway." He walked around the reinforced, steel chair his Familiar captive was chained to, reassuring himself that White wasn't able to escape. "I don't plan on interrogating you anytime soon."
"Then there's no tactical purpose to holding me," White retorted. "You might as well either let me go or put a bullet in my head." The Familiar sneered contemptuously, but Alec could see through the bravado.
He makes a good show of not being afraid of death, but methinks he doth protest too much, Alec thought. "I'm not letting you go," Alec responded. "And though your chances of getting out of here alive are definitely less than stellar, I can't give you the comfort of having a quick end, either."
"Torture?" White inquired. Alec noticed with admiration that the Familiar didn't really seem frightened.
"Yeah, torture," Alec confirmed solemnly, never noticing that his tone had become so serious, that a part of his mind, for whatever reason, wanted to express some reluctance and guilt at his actions, as if he'd been given no choice. "I am, of course, interested in what you know," Alec admitted, "but there'll be plenty of time for that later. Right now, I just want to hurt you. I want you to scream. I want you to cry. I want you to beg me for forgiveness for all the things you've done to my kind."
"It'll never happen," White muttered.
"Of course it won't," Alec replied with a condescending grin, obviously knowing something his prisoner did not. Sure, he's strong, Alec thought. And he can resist pain, and he's absolutely fanatical in his beliefs, but there's always something . . . that wonderful something unique to every individual. That one, magical thing that will break a man's will. I just have to discover White's something. "You underestimate me," White said confidently. Alec didn't respond. He didn't see any need to. Instead, he simply left the room, giving his prisoner time to think. He's going to wonder, Alec knew. He's going to wonder what kind of things I learned at Manticore. He's going to wonder if maybe he's not as invulnerable as he believes. And most of all, he's going to wonder if there's a limit to what I'm willing to do.
It was the last part that made Alec grin with satisfaction as he closed the door softly behind him, with as much care as if he was leaving a sleeping baby behind. He was certain that White would break. And he was certain that he was willing to do whatever was needed to see it happen.
The bright, mid-April sun streamed through the window, evoking a painful groan from the depths of Alec's chest. He forced one eye open enough to look at the clock – 1:15. A.M. or P.M.? he wondered for a brief moment. Oh, right… the sun, he noted. Must be P.M.
He vetoed his body's immediate request for more sleep, certain that if he didn't get out of bed right away he'd likely stay there until it was time to go to the bar. And that's not much of an option when I have work to do. Alec had recently done a great deal of thinking about the phrase, 'functional alcoholic.' He was not at all convinced that he was, in fact, an alcoholic, but he knew that the large amount of time he spent in bars might be misleading to potential employers. His solution was to take care of contracts more quickly than most in his profession would. It hadn't taken long to earn the moniker of Mr. Fixit. He was his industry's most high-priced problem solver in the Pacific Northwest, and he didn't have any plans to lose that distinction.
Alec trudged through his apartment into the kitchen where he found, to his dismay, even more sunlight waiting for him. Needing an instant caffeine jolt but not wanting to put forth the effort of brewing a new pot of coffee, he grabbed yesterday's mug from the sink and poured in the sludge that remained at the bottom of the previous day's pot. He felt it was to his credit that he no longer winced when he drank cold, stale, sewage-thick coffee.
Just two sips were enough to open his eyes fully. Well, might as well get it over with, he decided. He sat down and spilled the contents of a manila envelope onto the chipped, faux wood surface of his kitchen table. Three pictures, all of the same man. Only one assignment.
He'd memorized every feature of the face in the pictures and then went to work committing the man's itinerary to memory. Mr. Jonathan Wagner, COO of Wagner Corp, an up-and-coming pharmaceutical company. 51 years old, divorced twice and currently on wife #3 . . . nice, a 22-year old lingerie model. Three kids, all with wife #1. Into the office at 7 A.M. daily, stays until roughly 8 P.M. Generally goes out for dinner – same restaurants, rotating on a daily schedule. Let's see… Yep, Delmonico's it is, Alec decided after reviewing the list of Wagner's favorite restaurants. He could remember spending a weekend with one of the waitresses from Delmonico's a few months earlier. Of course, that was before she went back to waiting tables… He thought a few minutes more before finally deciding that she would likely provide an excellent in. Now what the hell was her name? Teri? Geri? Sherri? None of those names sounded right, but he couldn't decide what her name had been. I could tell you anything about any inch of that nubile young girl's body, but ask me her name, and I come up blank, Alec lamented with a smile. It's a rough life.
To be continued…………………………………