Disclaimer: I do not own D9, or its characters.
Blurb: In order to keep this story going, I've pushed it forward quite a bit. My goal is to have this story finished in the next 'threeish' chapters here. I apologize for the sudden jump, but I really don't want to wait until I have enough muse to fill in the gaps. I just wanted to thank all of you who've been around to review and read through this story. Your comments are the fuel that keep me going! That, and, these ideas I want to flesh out here... before they die. XP
~ Ru
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The past three months lay scattered in Desmond's brain. It was hard to tell if today had already happened, if he was dreaming and he'd wake to relive the torture they put him through. Or if some subtle difference would let him know of the progression of days.
The scientists had already cut a portion of his skull open to access his brain. A sterile casing covered it, as to preserve their specimen for their anticipated trials. Mentions of Theo drifted now and then to make him complacent. Mentions of Christopher and Oliver driving in the nails – but lately, lately he wasn't feeling up to it any longer.
Desmond, once a Wikus van de Merwe, only saw the inevitable death ahead of him.
Now and then that familiar presence of the one inside his head would arise. From the cacophony of all the other forms rummaging behind his eyes, Desmond could feel it prodding for his voice, his curious mind – no more.
He was lying down in his cell as he often did, resting his eyes because he could no longer find restful sleep. And he thought of nothing. He could not do much more than that. Besides losing himself in the multitude of minds, converging into a confusing sea of voices, washing away. It did help with any pain he had received from the physicians. Losing sense of his feeble moans escaping his jaws, or the pitiful, child-like clicking that yearned for a gentler hand.
He failed to recognize the jolt hitting the facility, or the sirens blaring into his cell. The men in white haz-mats rushed in, gripping, and grabbing his body to place it onto the gurney. Listless, they ushered him forward like a lifeless doll and strapped him into the familiar coffin bounds.
Desmond shut his eyes from the bright lights of the outside hall. Little did he know of the chaos that erupted, when another boom rocked the concrete structure of the building. Panicked voices hitching in the air, orders blaring from the comms – the profuse sweat and smell of human, rank with fear and urgency.
It must have been a dream – he thought. The walls cracked, pieces fell from the ceiling and the structure groaned as they pushed him along with added speed. Until the cool night air struck him, and the sounds of a chopper's blades sliced in. Desmond's eyes snapped open to embrace black skies. He could see nothing, besides the blotted darkness and the blaring lights of the facility all around. It was the smells that greeted him that ushered tears into his eyes.
It was only a moment, as the sterile smell dissolved and he could find the brief scent of trees, of green things lingering beyond those walls – of animals, and vehicles, dust and…
A loud, piercing sound punched into the ground. It knocked the men and his gurney off – throwing them all into the ground. He was trapped with the cement pressed against his side. He could smell the fine iron of blood, singed flesh and open viscera. Between the chaos and joy of tasting fresh, new air, Desmond quickly drifted away from the force that had sent him and the surrounding men to the floor. His head swirled away, unconscious and strangely pleased before he succumbed.
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It was quiet when Desmond awoke, the light dimmed to a soft glow. Exhausted, he resisted the need to move just yet. For now, he could make out something soft supporting his back, legs and arms, head in a comfortable mold; contrary to the stiff bedding in his cell.
He could tell the air tasted different here too. Somewhat sweet, and strangely pleasant as a weak current of air brushed passed. He stared up into the ceiling, unfamiliar of the grooves and sleek curvature in the 'beams' that travelled to either side of the room's corners. It reminded him of the inside of a walnut shell, a pod of some sort.
A different waft alerted him of the visitor, a scent hard placed – assaulting his senses with information his body seemed apt to understand. Leaving his mind befuddled by the authoritative nature of the creature; ushering a feeble whirl from his throat in protest.
The individual cooed out to him, taking his stand beside Desmond's bed. It was prawn, but nothing like the prawns he'd seen before. It was taller, and its skin shimmered with green iridescent, accented by dark teals and blues near the edges of where the exoskeleton layered upon one another. He cowered underneath the strange eyes above.
The stranger stepped back, ushering another round of coos that oddly suppressed the resistance building in his mind. And finally washed over him by relaxing his muscles, and repressing his initial fears.
"You are safe here," it finally said.
"You have been sleeping for a very long time."
The haze of the cell, of all their prodding and demands resided in Desmond's head as he made out the words. He frowned as he tried recalling what had happened, if this was actually real – or if he'd finally lost it somewhere along the way.
"You are no longer with the… 'humans.'" Desmond wasn't aware of how easy the creature could make out the English word 'human'. Although it's speech had slowed to properly pronounce the term, which visibly made the creature's face tight and narrow.
"The little one, your son, is safe. So is your keeper."
Desmond's eyes widened with tears. Not entirely sure of the truth, but surprised and overwhelmed by the thought of his son and Christopher. He grunted as he forced himself to sit up, light-headed, his eyes searched the stranger's face with a sudden renewal of hope. He could hardly contain himself.
"Th-Theo?"
The stranger nodded with a warm churring noise. And finally reached out to steady Desmond with a hand to his shoulder and squeezed. "They will be here shortly."
Despite the uncertainty, he could barely contain himself – he began to weep with short clicks, tight rolls and a low hum as he slumped and held his face with his hands. Shaking his head, as he vibrated from all the noise that escaped him. He felt arms wrap around him, and the bed adjust for a second person. Without having to doubt himself, he leaned into the strong arms and brilliant chest. Relief followed the hums and coos of the stranger holding him, cradling him close. A warmth reached out into his mind, and seemed to envelop him.
It was amazing how it travelled throughout. Desmond had never felt so sure or safe before in his life, even as a child – in the arms of his mother. Or perhaps, this is what it really felt like? To be embraced, and filled with unyielding ecstasy.
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Desmond was nearly asleep an adult prawn, accompanied by the child in his arms entered the room.
"Daddy!" The voice of the child-prawn was not at all familiar. But it woke him from the tidal of emotions; just as the body holding him pulled away and murmured something to Christopher.
"Theo?" Desmond's voice trembled in the air as he looked up to see the child being let down from Chris' arms, and crawled over quickly. Tackling him and nuzzling into his chest with little cries of his own; Desmond held the child close to him and joined his crying with a happy trill.
He would never let go, Desmond thought to himself. My son!
A moment passed as they held on to each other, as if, at any moment something or someone might tear them a part. Without realizing, the stranger had left and Christopher stood at the entrance looking on. As Desmond relaxed his hold on the boy, he could finally make out how much Theo had grown in his absence. It was startling to make out his form, so very reminiscent of Oliver's youth. Large eyes, nimble limbs… but the boy appeared slightly different than the average prawn. A crest of some sort was forming along the child's head – he curiously rubbed a thumb over the protruding ridge with a concerned frown.
Theo sat still as he did, trilling curiously.
"What are these?" Desmond's voice faltered briefly. He became fearful – what had they done to him?
"He's different, special… like you are." Christopher's voice filled the room with a heavy stillness. Desmond's eyes shot up to him.
"O-oh…" Desmond was lost in the subtle differences of Christopher's face. Healthy colour, lack of scratches and wear… Desmond forced a brief smile. As if sensing this uncertainty, Christopher approached them, and sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you okay?" Desmond managed to squeak out.
Christopher nodded once, before reaching out for Theo's head and giving it a ruffle. The child laughed. Desmond sighed.
"Where's Oliver?"
Christopher remained quiet, eyes dull as he looked back to Desmond.
"Chris?" His voice hitched, panic twisted inside of him.
"There's nothing to say." He said finally, looking away and nudging Theo's cheek. Desmond remained still, shocked, guilty even. He forced his arms to reach out to Christopher, embrace him. The alien didn't seem to protest. Theo, who moved into Chris' lap, joined them.
Words failed Desmond. He couldn't possibly think of anything to make the situation better. His hug became a clinging, the world a dizzying, and awful place. Christopher adjusted his own arms and held the two close to him. Cooing to them in the quiet.
They lied down together, Theo trapped between them.
Desmond fell asleep in the tight embrace. Set adrift in the harrowing sadness of the loss - wishing, and only wishing that it wasn't so. That it wasn't right, it wasn't fair. The only thing holding him together were the arms that kept him anchored, and the little one nestled in between their arms. Even then, the reunion was incomplete and broken, changed, and nearly undone.
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When finally they awoke, they were brought food from one of the staff. Christopher didn't say much, and filled the time entertaining Theo.
The boy could speak, and chatted on and on about their stay on the vessel.
It was bewildering to think they were on an actual spaceship. Let alone who or what had returned to gather their people up from the clutches of D10. The boy went on to talk about the huge alien that they'd seen, and that 'he was really nice and funny', and not so scary.
"He's teaching me dad!"
Desmond raised a brow. "What is he teaching you?"
"Link stuff."
"What's that…?" His son giggled at him. Christopher grunted, amused.
"It's the mental connection that the Alphas transmit. They say you and Theo have it," Christopher responded. Desmond blinked and glanced back at Theo.
"You have it too? Really?"
"Yes!"
Desmond felt something nudge at him, a pressure behind his head that disappeared as soon as it appeared. "Did you feel that?" Theo chirped, excited. Desmond let out a laugh and nodded. "So that's you then huh?"
The boy grinned, and finished off the rest of his meal. Desmond watched in wonder. Finding it hard to take it all in. Theo was but a child months ago, wasn't he? Barely capable of talking, somewhat delayed compared to the other toddlers… He grabbed the child and snuggled him with little kisses. Theo squealed and squirmed between laughs, trying to escape his father's arms.
"Excuse me."
The vibrant, iridescent stranger stood in the doorway. Desmond stopped what he was doing, letting Theo be.
"Hello Nya-chi!" Theo greeted them with a few happy clicks. "Greetings Theo." He nodded to Chris before settling his eyes on Desmond.
"Wikus?"
Desmond tilted his head. "Ah… yes?" It didn't feel right, that name.
"I apologize for not introducing myself sooner. I'm Nya-chi, beta to Viel'cah. I was here when you woke up. If you're feeling better, the Alpha would like to see you."
"Can we come?" Theo piped up.
"I'm sorry little one. Not for this one." Theo deflated with a nod.
"Sure…" Desmond said, uncertain. With a quiet sigh, he moved off the bed. Mildly surprised that he was not sore upon moving.
"See you soon," Desmond made his goodbye with a wave. Following after Nya-chi as he led the way.
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TBC... Reviews would be lovely! Thank-you~