(*Author's note: Here is Chapter 9. This chapter has been the bane of my existence for the last two weeks. I've revised it almost five times and I'm -still- not sure that it's quite right . . . Oh well. This is another long chapter (with good reason!) and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it the first time :)
Anyway, on to business! GoldAngel2 gets two 'thank you's because she beta read this one (twice!) and reviewed the last chapter. I'd also like to tell her that this chapter will have a few surprises in it - I hope that you like them! Strata, Kris Ice, stungun millie and Wolfwood11 each have a 'thank you' coming to them as well. So, Thank you, thank you, thank you and thank you!
Wolfwood11: The link didn't work but it sounds cute from the way you describe it :)
That's about it. So, on to chapter 9! *)
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"It all started with an organization called Black Ghost," Jet began in a quiet voice that he knew sounded tired. He didn't really want to do this and he wondered why the heck he hadn't said 'no.' It would have been so easy to say 'no.' He was sure that she would have taken 'no' for an answer. He should have said 'no.' He'd wanted to . . .
But he hadn't and now he was committed. "Really, the only thing you have to know about them is that they made weapons which they sold to countries all over the world - a Death Merchant that reaped a tidy profit from the seeds of war."
Cathy seemed underwhelmed. "All they did was sell weapons? Almost every country in the world has done that!"
"I'm sure they have," Jet said agreeably before continuing in a more somber tone, "but I doubt that they started wars just to sell them."
She considered it before nodding. "All right." Then she cocked her head at him. "But what do they have to do with you?"
Jet knew that Jimmy had told her at least a few of the stories that he'd told him so the question came as a slight surprise before he remembered that he had never told Jimmy that part of it. Jet's thoughts at the time had been that it wouldn't do to have the heroes be created by the bad guy - he'd decided that Jimmy was probably a little too young to appreciate that irony.
"I'm getting to that," he said, smiling at her impatience. Jimmy was a lot like that too; the more time he spent with Cathy, the more he could see why Jimmy had become the way he was. The main difference between them was that Cathy seemed much more uptight. Actually, he figured that she was one of the most tightly wound people that he'd ever met. Although, come to think of it, she'd seemed a little less so lately . . .
She was giving him a 'well?-get-on-with-it' gesture and he realized that he'd been stalling. There was really no point in stalling; this was what she wanted to know. Still, he had a heavy feeling in his stomach and he wasn't sure why. He forced it away and began talking again. "Well, about 40 years ago, they got it into their heads to create a new kind of weapon. Something better than just a new kind of gun or tank. An intelligent weapon that could be used to fight anywhere - even in space. They decided to make -"
"Cyborgs?" She interrupted, sounding shocked. "They built you?"
He nodded, not caring for the word 'built,' but conceding that it was basically true.
"You're supposed to be a weapon?" Her voice was almost confused, as if she'd never considered this explanation for the rockets in his legs. Maybe she hadn't; certainly, he'd done nothing to make her think that that was the reason. He wondered what she had thought before deciding that it probably didn't matter now anyway.
He forced a chuckle in an attempt to lighten the suddenly tense mood. "Yep, that's me. Cyborg soldier 002. Super weapon."
She frowned at him. "That's not funny, Jet."
No, he supposed that it wasn't. He sighed before he could stop himself. "It's true though. That's what I was made for."
Judging by the look of fear on her face, he knew that he wouldn't like whatever she was going to say. "Were you ever human?"
Sometimes, he hated being right. "Of course I was," he snapped, noticing that her eyes had widened but too hurt to care. Did she think he was robot or a really fancy can opener or something? Was that what she thought? He saw her hand go to her mouth, as if she was going to be sick. He felt a little sick himself - among other things.
Jet was completely and utterly floored. After what they'd been through, she didn't think he was human? That he'd ever been human? How could she even doubt that enough to ask? What was wrong with her? He'd saved her life and he still wasn't good enough to be a person? What the heck did she want from him? He was just about ready to explode at her and really let her have it, when something stopped him.
This wasn't completely her fault. The fact of the matter was that he should have known that no one could take things in stride as easily as Cathy had appeared to. It hadn't been fair of him to expect her to take this well and it wasn't as if he'd done anything to prepare her. Although, he wasn't sure how else he could have done it, he saw that he did sort of spring this on her. If he was in her position, he doubted that he would've done much better.
Unfortunately, knowing that didn't change the fact that he felt angry and, maybe, even a little betrayed. He would have liked nothing better than to be able to get up and go for a walk until he calmed down. Since he couldn't do that without seriously hurting himself, he settled for crossing his arms and turning as far away from her as his propped leg would allow. "Cathy, I can't do this."
For a long awkward moment, neither of them said anything. Then her hand touched his shoulder.
"Jet?"
The concern in her voice made him want to say something but he knew that opening his mouth at the moment would be a mistake. There were a lot of things on the tip of his tongue begging to be said but, angry as he felt, very few of them were anything he wanted Cathy to hear.
"Jet, I'm sorry."
Of course, he'd never had very good control of his tongue. "Why? I'm just a machine - it's really a waste of time to apologize to an old tin can like me." Then, before he could stop himself, he added, "Do me a favor and don't pretend that's not what you're thinking!"
The hand left his shoulder and he had a brief moment to be surprised at missing its presence before Cathy grabbed both his shoulders and forced him to face her. She looked furious and the cynical part of his mind wondered what reason she had to be angry.
"Don't ever let me hear you say that again!"
"Why not?" He could feel himself shaking although he wasn't sure with what. "That must be you think. Why else would you even ask that?"
Her eyes softened (as did the grip on his shoulders). "I . . ." Cathy sighed as she let go of him, "I don't know." Putting her hand on her forehead, she spoke again, "I mean, I know that you're a good guy and I thought that I was okay with the whole cyborg thing but . . ." She trailed off as her hand fell into her lap. "All this talk of weapons; it made me forget that."
She reached out for his shoulder again and he let her. "I'll try not to forget again. I'm so sorry I hurt you."
Jet covered her hand with his and found a smile to give her. "You can't hurt me; I'm indestructible, remember?" While he couldn't deny that he still felt a little hurt, he wanted to forgive her. It helped that it looked like she meant what she'd said. Regrettably, he wasn't much better at forgiving people than he was at apologizing and he hoped that she understood what he meant.
If the relieved smile on her face was any indication, she had. "Right."
After taking a moment to settle himself, he let go of her hand. "All right, where was I?" He knew his voice was a shade too bright but he figured that, after what had just happened, the rest of the story would be easy. A dark voice in the back of his mind told him that he had to be the stupidest man on the planet, but Jet told it to shut up.
She let go of his shoulder and her concern was unmistakable. "Are you sure?"
He nodded.
Cathy didn't look convinced but seemed willing to let him get away with it. "You were just talking about how Black Ghost wanted to make cyborgs."
"Okay, cyborgs." He took a deep breath as he thought about what he wanted to say. "So, Black Ghost sent out operatives to hire scientists that could write up the plans and to collect guinea pigs for the experiments." Unable to help himself, Jet slipped in a dramatic pause. "That's where me, my friends and Doctor Gilmore come in."
There was a question on her face (no doubt she was wondering why someone who used to work for Black Ghost was helping him now) but seemed willing to keep it to herself at the moment. That suited Jet just fine - the answer was a bit complicated and he figured that he'd end up explaining all that before long anyway.
"To make a long story short," he paused for a second because he could have sworn that Cathy had muttered, "Too late," under her breath. At her innocent look, he shook his head and decided that he must have been hearing things. He gave her a warning look anyway (just in case) before starting again. "To make a long story short, Black Ghost used those scientists' plans and their advanced technology and made me what I am today."
"Why would you agree to that?" She asked it hesitantly, as if she knew that she might be treading in dangerous territory. Her expression was half wary and half curious, as if she was afraid of how he'd react to the question but still needed to know the answer anyway.
There was no reason for her to worry this time. He couldn't blame her for wanting to know the answer to that question. Jet tried to smile. "They didn't exactly ask my permission." His smile turned into a flat line as he thought about what he'd said.
'Didn't exactly ask permission'? That was putting it so mildly that it was practically untruthful. That made it sound like Black Ghost had tricked him into signing consent forms. 'Sign here if you don't want to become a super cyborg . . . Oh wait, this is the "So, you want to be a cyborg?" contract. Oh well, you've already signed it. Let's get to work!'
If he'd really wanted to be truthful, he should have said: 'They offered me a ride*; drugged me; took me to some horrible little island in the middle of nowhere; strapped me on a table and had their way with me.' He was glad that he hadn't said that. Jet wanted to tell her the truth but he didn't think that she would want to hear the details. Honestly, he could only remember bits and pieces of the things that had happened after getting to that black car anyway, but what he could remember wasn't anything he wanted to talk about. Ever.
And that hadn't even been the worst part. The worst part had been that no one had taken the time to tell him what was going on or what was happening. He'd had to figure it out for himself and, considering the fact that he'd never been good with technology and the fact that they kept him doped up the whole time . . . By the time he'd figured out what they were doing to him, it had all been over.
All in all, Jet didn't enjoy thinking too much about those early days and he hoped that Cathy would not ask any more about them.
When he saw the look of horror on her face, he realized with a start that he'd actually said some of the things he'd been thinking out loud. He had to start being more careful about that sort of thing! "You mean they just snatched you away and did this?" Then horror faded and she looked merely sad. "That must have been terrible for you."
Jet was more a little uncomfortable with this emotional topic (and her reaction to it) and he tried to brush off her concern. "Yeah, well, that was a long time ago - it's okay now." He smiled weakly in an attempt to look more convincing.
"Of course it is." Cathy obviously wasn't fooled but seemed to understand that this was something that he didn't want to talk about.
They sat in silence for a while and Jet had been about to start talking again when Cathy narrowed her eyes in confusion.
"This happened 40 years ago?" At his nod, she smiled and gave him a mock appraising look. "You certainly seem to have aged well."
His chuckle was genuine and more in response to the fact that she was smiling than to what she'd said. "Well, I do try to take care of myself," he said with a grin. When she didn't look amused, he answered her unspoken question. "It did happen 40 years ago, but I . . . They froze me for a long time afterwards."
The smile fell off her face. "Why?"
Jet leaned back, trying to find an easy way of explaining it. "Basically, there was something wrong with us - the first generation of cyborgs. There was some kind of flaw in our design and, after a while, we were in so much pain, we couldn't function. So they froze us and put the cyborg project on hold until they could find a way to fix it**."
"So, how old are you?"
He took a second to think about it. "If you count the time I spent in the freezer, I'm almost 60. If you don't, I'm 19 or so***." Maybe. Truth was that, between being kidnaped, frozen and then on the run, he'd sort of lost track. It suddenly struck him as odd that, until this moment, he really hadn't thought too much about it. Of course, there had been more important things to think about . . .
He shook his head and realized that Cathy had said something. "What?"
"What happened after that? How did you escape?"
Jet couldn't help but smile. Her expression and tone reminded him of when he'd been telling Jimmy stories - the only difference was that she was trying to look like she wasn't as interested as she was. "That's a whole other story in itself and I'm starting to feel a little tired," he said, stretching for effect.
He had to admit that the fleeting look of disappointment on her face amused him a little - particularly because she'd been trying to act like she wasn't that interested. Pretending to reconsider, he smiled slyly. "But, if you got me something to eat, I think I could find the strength to tell you then."
She laughed as she playfully punched him in the shoulder - if he'd been told a week ago that Cathy could be playful, he wouldn't have thought it possible. "You are really something, Jet." Standing, she shook her head at him and sighed. "All right, I'll feed you. But I think all I've got is some Ramen - is that okay?"
Actually, amid all of those cooking fiascos, he'd been living on the stuff and, frankly, he wasn't all that fond of it. Still, he was a guest and he supposed that he should be happy that she was going to feed him at all. With a smile that he didn't feel, he said: "Ramen's wonderful." Smiling wider, he added: "Can't get enough of the stuff."
Cathy stared at him for a long moment. "Jet?" She asked in a measured tone.
"What?"
"Promise me something."
"What?"
"Don't ever consider becoming an actor; you're not very good at it." Then she smiled and headed out into the kitchen before he had a chance to reply.
Jet watched the door shut behind her and closed his mouth when he realized that it was open. She was really something. He wondered fleetingly whether she was always this way when she warmed up to people or if this was for his benefit before deciding that, as interesting as the question was, he was in no position to find an answer at the moment. There were other things to think about anyway.
He leaned back, lacing his hands his head, and shut his eyes. Well, their little chat had certainly gone . . . well. A definite overstatement but, now that he was really thinking about it, he could see that it could have gone much, much worse. He remembered that time in Antarctica - once the professor's daughter had found out what her saviors really were, she'd been so fearful that she couldn't stand to even be around 009****. At least Cathy hadn't done that to him.
He still wondered why he'd agreed to tell her the truth in the first place.
All he owed her for was her hospitality and that alone didn't buy her the right to his life story. He'd actually surprised himself when he didn't say 'no.' He usually didn't talk about personal things if he could avoid it - especially not to people he'd only been friendly with for less than a day. And what he'd told Cathy . . . he'd never told anyone those things before.
Of course, that had been partly because there had been no need. His friends certainly knew all about Black Ghost and didn't need him to give them a recap. And while the stories he'd told Jimmy were based (at least loosely) on his own life, they had been just that: stories. When he'd been telling them, it had been like 002 was just a character he'd made up and the things that happened were just plot elements to entertain a lonely little boy. Nothing more.
This had been different. No matter how hard he'd tried to distance himself from it (at least, to start with), all of the things he'd talked about (and would talk about) were a part of his life. While he hadn't thought that talking about everything would be easy (it was pretty personal, after all), he honestly hadn't thought it'd be this hard. He just hoped that she appreciated how much he was trusting her by telling her all . . . of . . . this . . .?
He trusted her? When the heck had that happened? He didn't trust anyone!
Well, that wasn't exactly true anymore, was it? In his mind, there had been exactly nine people he trusted besides himself: Doctor Gilmore and his fellow 00 cyborgs. It'd be a lie to say that it had been easy - trust was something that didn't come naturally to him. It had also taken him a long time to realize that these people were good people, even if they annoyed him sometimes, and worthy of his trust. The day that he'd managed to get that though his skull had been one of the best days of his life.
And he guessed that now he'd have to add one more person to that list. Jet wasn't sure how far that trust actually extended in Cathy's case but it was obvious that he trusted her at least a little bit. Otherwise, why else would he tell her the truth? And why else would he have continued to talk to her about it after that careless comment she'd made about his humanity?
Well, no, the last had more to do with the fact that she'd seemed to genuinely regret saying what she'd said along with the fact that he'd wanted to forgive her than anything else. Still, the point was that he did trust her and he had no idea why. It looked like he had another thing to figure out and there was that dark voice again assuring him that it wouldn't be the last.
Sighing, Jet opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "Why does everything have to be so complicated?"
Unsurprisingly, the ceiling had no answers for him.
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To be continued . . .
* As shown in the flashback from "Hero"
** As described in the episode "Black Ghosts" (I think). The subtitles weren't the best and I had to guess a little bit :)
*** I know that the Official Website says he's 18, but I figure that it's been at least a year (if not more) for him by this time.
**** This happened in "Operation Auroras." At least that's the impression I got from the end of that episode.
(*End note: Wow, a lot of footnotes this time. Next time I have so many, I'll find something else besides ******** to use, I promise. Feel free to tell me if the footnotes are more annoying than helpful. *)