Chapter Three: Substructure
Shadows of Kenneth Kitsom remain cast over the existence of the man now Aaron Cross. The darkness of those old miseries past still haunted him. Marta's embrace brightened the part of Kenneth that still lingered like gloom. The comfort expressed in her kiss was a light never experienced in either of Aaron's iterations.
Abandoned by an addict mother at an early age, Kenneth was left with a grandfather who suffered from dementia. Despite being a child with special needs, it was years before the state finally deemed his grandfather unfit to care for the boy. Eventually, Kenneth was lost in the crowd of challenged youth at a state facility.
Throughout his sad childhood of neglect and isolation, Kenneth was plagued with a desperate longing for attention and affection. He coped by dreaming of family, love and belonging. Believing those dreams would someday come true stoked a strong faith that gave him hope.
One of the few fond memories young Kenneth had was of his grandpa. Before his grandfather was rendered too oblivious by his dementia, they would watch old patriotic war movies together. A veteran himself, his grandpa praised the nobility of service. The armed forces were held as paragons of virtue and the pinnacle of American manhood. For the lonely boy, the camaraderie portrayed in the films of the soldiers became a siren call. He counted down the days until he was finally old enough to join up.
On the whole, the armed forces were a noble force for good in the world. Aaron did not regret serving his country. He was proud to be one of the brave. In hindsight, though, he knew the recruiter fudged his stats to get him in.
Private Kitsom did not last long on the battlefield. Still, the short amount of time spent on his first deployment to Iraq promised Kenneth the sense of belonging he ached for. So, when his injuries warranted the threat of being discharged, he fought to stay on. He begged and pleaded not to be released. He swore to anything if they would just let him return to active duty. Kenneth Kitsom was the perfect candidate for Outcome. He fell all over himself to accept Eric Byer's offer to join a new, experimental unit without question.
Aaron cringed to think of his former self practically snot-crying in gratitude over being accepted into the NRAG program. He wasn't that person anymore. Now that the blue pills were locked-in virally, his rebirth as Aaron Cross was complete and irreversible. NO MORE– his message on the mirror. And yet, the yearning of young Kenneth Kitsom for love and family seeped into Aaron, carving out the same need in him.
Marta's confession as she held him from behind, their fingers entwined, was a balm for wounds inflicted on his earlier self. Aaron felt that relief, though the injuries had long since scarred over. Her caresses soothed and anchored him. His emotions calmed, he could again face his own guilt. Marta's declaration that she was the monster, not him, had comforted Aaron so deeply as to reach Kenneth. If he lead her to confront her culpability, though, he must as well.
"No", he said. "I'll own it; I am a killer."
Marta's arms tightened around him and she shook her head. "Shh," she murmured consolingly. Aaron recalled viraling out, when his feverish head drooped onto her shoulder. Being so out of it, he hadn't appreciated the significance then as much as he could now. Sick and helpless, he gave himself over, into her care. He remembered her fingers running through his hair as he fell against her, just before he blacked out.
Aaron, moved by the memory, brought her delicate hand to his mouth and kissed it. He turned to her and said again, flatly, "I'm a killer."
Marta took in his confession with care and sorrow. He was struck by her beauty, made even more attractive by the concern reflected in her emerald green eyes. Under her gaze now, Kenneth would be reduced to a sniveling, lovesick mess, Aaron thought.
Pushing the mental image aside, he continued. "I wake up each morning and swear not to kill again. I will not be made to eat anyone's sin."
Aaron sighed warily. "But, it's a promise to myself I can't keep. Worse, I know it's a promise I won't keep. I aim to change that, but know I can't – not yet, anyway."
He paused, looking up. Penitent, Aaron begged forgiveness from above. "I see all of them. All the faces of those I killed, before I even make it out of bed in the morning. Thanks to the enhancements, I know them. That guard you mentioned? He was married, wearing a ring. He had a thick wallet in his back pocket. With that job, those shoes and haircut, it wasn't full of cash – it was stuffed with pictures of his kids."
Horrified, Marta wanted to reassure him that he couldn't know that for sure. Inherently, though, she knew he was probably right. She felt wretched over his anguish.
"How many innocents, you asked? Hundreds...if I'm lucky." Aaron's lips twisted in a wry, humorless smile. "But I am not a lucky man."
He closed his eyes. "I torture myself with it. I replay the scenes in my mind over and over. I look for other ways, other methods that avoid using lethal force. I imagine disarming or disabling without it. I train, both body and mind, to practice using those instead. It helps, but doesn't cure. There's always a next time."
Aaron opened his eyes and shrugged with heavy shoulders. "Not long ago, anyone that stood in the way of my mission – police officers, guards, even bystanders – I wouldn't hesitate to mow down if they got in the way of my objective. Neutralizing the target was my only thought. It's not my only concern anymore, but I can't deny it isn't a struggle. I am still fighting to take back control of myself."
Chastened, Marta's hand rose to cup his jawline. Her thumb stroked over the stubble on his cheek, as he leaned into her touch. "I'm so sorry, Aaron – for my part in the Outcome project. For what was done to you. What I did to you."
She looked up to Aaron's big blue eyes, and found them locked onto hers. "We engineered the means to manipulate your genes for those abilities and basically wove the killer instinct into your brain tissue. Frankly, it's remarkable you could even consider altering your behavior – let alone actually try to. You've already accomplished so much more than should be possible."
Marta marveled at the science of it all, then caught herself. "While I was ignoring doubts, you faced them. You had the strength and courage to rebel. And this you managed to do, even against your nature." Marta grimaced, realizing that wasn't true. "Against the nature we gave you," she corrected herself. Her hand dropped to Aaron's chest but he clutched it in his own before it fell to her side.
"It's your own, original good nature that is so strong, enough to somehow fight what we've made you." Marta hung her head in shame. "Scientists ignoring ethics; doctors doing harm. That was me. I fought against my conscience while you fought for yours. Back in that exam room, you demanded I look. You're right, of course; I didn't want to see."
"It wasn't all bad," Aaron admitted, the darkness lifting. "I'm not a blithering idiot anymore."
Marta's mouth tightened, suppressing a smile, feeling it inappropriate. Aaron brought his right hand up to cradle her chin. His thumb traced her lips. "You didn't really see me, but at least I got to see you. And you did put in an attractive appearance."
For alluding to his earlier flirtation in repeating that comment, Aaron was rewarded with the view of a deep blush blooming over Marta's entire face, neck and chest. At the clinic, he was never this successful. But the doctor couldn't hide behind her lab coat here. She wasn't looking back at him through the reflections on medical cabinets anymore. Now, they stood face-to-face with nothing between them.
That wasn't just physical, it was metaphorical. Nothing of their past should stand between them again. He wasn't her patient and she was no longer the doctor that poked and prodded him for Outcome. That thought brought him back to his earlier statement, about how it wasn't all bad. "You did good, too," Aaron told her, "You saved me."
Marta shook her head in denial, frowning dismissively.
Aaron, though, knew full well that it was Marta who took out the operative bent on their destruction at the dockyard. Ultimately, she was the one that saved them. In fact, she saved him twice over. Medically, when her genius helped turn Kenneth Kitson into Aaron Cross. Then again physically, by eliminating the agent sent to neutralize him.
A warrior indeed, Aaron thought to himself. When they were on the run, back in Manila, he hadn't told her she was a warrior solely to fortify her; he meant it. The image of a scowling Rick Byer popped into his head. It was almost funny. His Outcome training deemed Marta a liability to be disposed of immediately after her usefulness was over. But Aaron couldn't do it – not to her, not to himself. Rejecting that course had been his salvation in more ways than one. "You did save me."
Marta regarded him quizzically but said, "Then we saved each other. We're in this fight together now." Then, struck with the thought she was being incredibly presumptuous, hastily added "If...if you want. If, you'll have me."
Face flushing hot with embarrassment at the innuendo, however unintended, Marta moved to pull away.
Laughing, Aaron caught her before she could retreat. His arms encircled her, pulling her in tight. He couldn't resist teasing her. "Okay; you talked me into it. I'll have you."
She groaned into his chest as he held her, but chuckled.
Feeling foolishly happy – Kenneth again, Aaron blamed – he leaned back to take Marta's face in his hands. His big blue eyes shined bright as he peered down at her. "You see me know."
It was meant to be a statement, but Aaron heard the note of insecurity in his voice, making it sound more like a question. F***ing Kitsom, you pu**y, he cursed himself.
Not understanding the look that crossed his face, but sensing the gravity of the moment, Marta just stared silently back at him. Her green eyes glowed with warmth as she held his gaze. A soft smile on her lips, she nodded a gentle affirmation.
Aaron's confidence swelled to the same ridiculous proportion as his heart. He bent resolutely towards the doctor and crushed his lips to hers. Finally.