Disclaimer: I don't own Dark Angel so don't sue me. Thanks. :-)
A/N: Wooo! I love reviews! Thank you, everyone, for reading and reviewing! I write better when I get reviews. Sorry the story is late, I was on vacation this week. ^_^ Oh, and go check out my friend CherryBerryGirls story FERAL. She's new to and has lots of cool ideas.
Ex Multus Familia
Chapter 8
Filled to the brim with gas, tools and Pier 1 decorations, the U-Haul bumped its way through a small, heavily guarded side gate on the west side of Terminal City where few humans ever came. Transgenic soldiers wielding a small arsenal of weaponry watched as the truck rolled through the gate that was quickly shut behind the vehicle. The U-Haul rolled and spluttered to a stop beside Robin's apartment building on Oak Street.
"Think we woke anyone?" Robin asked as she opened the squeaking door.
Seth grinned roguishly before opening his own door. "Probably half the city, but what does it really matter? No one around here really sleeps much anyways."
Robin rolled her eyes and jumped down from the truck. Seth was already at her door, closing it behind her once she was on the ground. "Shouldn't we drop the truck at HQ?"
"I thought we could drive the truck over there in the morning, when everyone can help unload. And that way we could get your stuff out now," Seth said. He winked at her. "So no one tries to pick up any of your frilly things."
Robin giggled. "You make it sound like we raided an underwear store." They walked around to the back of the U-Haul, and Seth lifted the heavy door.
"No, a lingerie store would have been much more fun," he said, his grin widening, "It would have been even more fun if you would've put on a fashion show in the lingerie store."
"A private lingerie fashion show?" Robin asked as she climbed up inside the U-Haul, graceful in every action.
"I wouldn't have anyone else there besides us," Seth said. He flicked his gaze to her face. "So yes, private."
She fast-pitched a bundle of placemats at Seth's head. He caught the bundle and smiled as if she had handed it to him gently. "I'm guessing we'll have to work up to that?" he asked, setting the bundle to the side. He barely caught the couch pillow that was flung at his head.
"You'll have to work very, very hard for that," Robin said, throwing another pillow. He used the pillow he was holding to deflect the second one then shot forward to catch it before it could fall on the ground. He grinned up at Robin who was standing at the edge of the U-Haul, frowning at him.
"I'm sort of used to hard work," Seth said, "I think I can manage it, if you give me a chance." He put the pillows next to the placemats and turned back to her. "I also think I could improve my reflexes if you keep trying to kill me with throw pillows."
"Kill is a strong word," Robin said, smiling at him with sweet innocence, "It's more like maim."
"Oh, that's so much better," Seth said, grinning back at her. He was rewarded by a dark blue footrest flying at his face.
Together they unloaded her things from the back of the truck and set them to the side. Robin had picked out a neutral, blue, green and brown motif for her and Sidda's apartment, but she had also picked up some other stuff that she thought the other transgenic girls might like. Or transgenic guys, if they had a random urge to decorate. They left the extra Pier 1 gear and the rest of the goods in the truck and took the first load of Robin's things up to the apartment.
"Why do you need curtains?" Seth asked as they walked up the stairwell. He had a couple sets of curtains thrown over his shoulders, giving him the appearance of an ancient Greek or a Pre-Pulse frat boy. "You're on the third floor. No one's going to be looking in on you."
Robin shifted the rug she was carrying and tossed a look at him over her shoulder. "That's not the point."
"Then what is the point?"
"Men," she said, shaking her head. "The point is that curtains frame a room, give it shape. The apartment will look better with curtains, trust me."
"I'll have to," Seth said, rolling his eyes, "Because I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Well, you will soon enough." Her face slipped easily into a grin. "I'll even give you lessons in home-decorating."
Seth stopped on the 2nd floor landing and stared at her as she continued climbing. "Are you trying to con me into helping you decorate your apartment?"
"Maaaybe," she said. Her laughter echoed in the stairwell and someone on the floor below them shouted for her to be quiet. Seth rolled his shoulders and followed after her. Well, at least she wanted him around, even if it was to do her chores.
"Anything else you want me to do?" he asked, "I mean, when I'm not helping you decorate."
"We'll see," Robin said, "We might need a handyman." She opened the door to her floor and smiled at him. "You any good with a wrench?"
Seth smiled at her as he stopped by the door. "Anything in it for me?" He put his foot on the door, holding it open for her. She lingered in the doorway.
"Hmm, I dunno," she said, "Maybe if you fix my stove, I'll make you dinner. Sound like a fair trade?"
"Depends," he said, trying to keep his expression serious. "How good is your cooking?"
Robin frowned at him. "My cooking is perfectly fine! I'm a good cook." She flounced past him and then flashed a grin at him. "Fix my stove and I'll show you what I can do."
He smirked and walked after her, letting the door shut behind him. "That sounds sorta promiscuous…"
"I meant cooking wise!" she declared, rolling her eyes at him. She huffed and looked like she was contemplating flinging the rug at him. She probably would have if it hadn't meant dropping everything else she was carrying. "I swear, guys only have sex on their minds. Everything's sexual, no matter how innocent it sounds."
"Sorry," he said with a half-embarrassed shrug, "It's the way we're wired."
"Well, put in some effort to rewire yourself," Robin teased.
"I'll try, if that's what you want," Seth said. He winked at her, and she had to force herself not to blush.
"An attempt would be nice," she replied.
They walked up to her door, and Robin knocked gently. She didn't want to wake up Taylor if her daughter was sleeping. Her eyes slid to Seth for a brief moment. She supposed she would have to start referring to Taylor as their daughter…but she didn't want to start that just yet. There was a small jealous twinge in her chest when she thought about sharing Taylor with Seth. Maybe she would just stick with calling Taylor her daughter for now.
She was surprised when a sleepy-looking Alec opened the door. For a moment, panic for her roommate and her baby rose in her, and she had to stop herself from lunging at the male X5. Months of living on the edge of society had made her paranoid.
If Alec noticed her almost attack him, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he smiled at her and Seth before inclining his head back towards the living room. "Sidda and the kid are asleep." He stepped out of their way and opened the door wider to let them in.
Robin hurried in, still thrown off by seeing Alec in their apartment. A smile came to her face when she saw Sidda on the couch, her head cushioned by a pillow from her bedroom and her folded hands. A light blanket was thrown over her, covering her up to her shoulders.
"How'd the shopping spree go?" Alec asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Surprising Robin yet again, he reached out and took the rug from her arms.
Seth set down the box of home-decorating things he had been carrying and glanced at Robin. "Fine, but I think Robin picked out enough stuff to decorate the entire apartment building."
Robin pouted as she put the rest of the stuff on the small dining table. "I had to leave most of it behind. It wouldn't fit in the U-Haul."
"So now we can only decorate half the building since we had to bring home gas and building supplies," Seth said with a cheeky smile, "The tragedy."
"Hey, I care about that stuff too," Robin exclaimed, eyes widened indignantly. She popped him on the arm before turning back to Alec. "Is Taylor in my room?"
"Yeah, Sidda put her back there. She woke up a little while ago, but she went back to sleep." He peeked into the wicker box that Seth had brought up. "Dude, are those Yankee Candles? Those are pretty rare."
"And honeysuckle-scented," Seth added, making a face. "It was awful, Alec. The whole store smelled like a perfume factory."
"It did not," Robin said, "You're being a baby about it." She glanced at Alec who was pulling the candles out of the box to get a better look at them. "Did you put Taylor back to bed or was Sidda awake?"
"Nah, I did it," Alec said nonchalantly as he dug deeper into the box. "Sidda was really tired, so I didn't want to bother her. Cool lamp." He lifted a small silver lamp out of the box and set it on table beside the pile of candles.
"I'm surprised Taylor didn't start screaming when you picked her up," Seth said, smirking at Alec, "Crystal always loses it when you try to hold her."
"Crystal's a brat. She cries with lots of people," Alec said defensively, "Unlike Taylor who's a reasonable enough kid."
"I'm not sure how much reasoning a one month old can do," Robin said as she rummaged through the placemats. "But I'll take that as a compliment for her."
"Maybe she was just too scared by your ugly face to cry," Seth suggested.
Alec gave a sarcastic smile. "Yeah, that's it. But if that's the case, she'll probably go into shock when she gets a good look at your face."
Seth rolled his eyes and ignored the comment as he turned to Robin. "Me and Alec can go get the rest of your stuff while you check on Taylor, if you'd like."
Robin put her hand on the table as she considered the idea. "Do you care about being volunteered?" she asked, looking at Alec. The X5 put down the throw pillow he had been playing with and shrugged.
"Whatever," he said, smirking, "Somehow over the years I sort of got used to being told what to do."
Both Robin and Seth snorted. That was a Manticore up-bringing for you. The two guys headed for the door while Robin went toward the back hallway, desperate to see her baby. She glanced at Sidda on her way. Her best friend certainly had a lot of talking to do when she woke up.
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The next morning, Joshua was up with the dawn and in his studio in HQ. The scattered dream about dark tunnels and scarlet flashes he had had last night needed to be painted, he knew it in his soul. Lucky he had a new canvas that Max's nice sister Syl had brought him from her last run into the city with Krit. They were both nice, Syl and Krit, and they had made Max very happy when they showed up a couple weeks ago.
Joshua liked it when Max and everyone was happy, but it didn't seem like anyone had been really truly happy for…a long time. Everyone was tight, tense, about how the humans hated them. Joshua didn't entirely understand why humans hated them, but he accepted it. It was another part of life that needed to be painted, and he'd do it. Right after he painted his dream.
He set down his mug of hot chocolate on the corner of his work table as he approached his canvas and easel. The mug almost toppled over from the precarious position he had put it in, and he had to scramble to catch it. Even then, some of the drink splashed out and scorched his hand.
"Ow! Oh, ow, hothothothot," he spluttered, half-dancing while shifting the mug from hand to hand. Almost howling, he set the mug down on the table again, this time a foot from the edge, and stuffed his scalded hand into his mouth.
"You okay, Joshua?" Dix called from the other room. He and Luke were watching the news on one of the TVs that Luke had fixed and eating an early breakfast of Pop Tarts and dry cereal. Hot breakfast, if there was any this morning, would be served later, at 8:00.
Joshua nodded to himself before realizing that Dix couldn't see him. He pulled his hand out of his mouth. "Yes, just spilled Gem's hot chocolate."
"She'll probably give you more if you go ask," Luke said helpfully, "Unless she's in a bitchy mood…"
"S'okay. Joshua won't bother Gem." He bared his teeth and growled at the offending mug before turning to his easel. Immediately the creamy canvas put him at ease.
Joshua loved painting. He loved the way his brush dashed color across the blank canvas, the bright or dark hues spreading over the taunt cream cloth. He loved the paint flecks in his hair, on his face, covering his hands. He loved the acrylics, the oils, the watercolors: he adored the whole enormous, beautiful, emotional mess of painting.
Snatching up one of his bigger paintbrushes, he put it in his mouth and tilted his head to the side. An empty canvas was always the most fun. He reached over and picked up a can of black paint. Popping it open, he took a deep but brief breath of the paint, savoring the smell of it. It was a good smell, a familiar smell. Though he couldn't smell it too long because Max would get mad at him. He could remember that Max had gotten mad at him before for sniffing paint but the memory was hazy.
While he considered what to start with first, red flashes or black tunnels, Joshua could overhear Luke and Dix's conversation over the mumble of the TV even though he wasn't really paying attention to them.
"What makes it an assassination instead of a murder?" Luke asked, "Ditch-diggers didn't exactly have to know these things." Joshua spat out his brush and caught it. He dipped it into the black paint as Dix answered Luke.
"An assassination is when someone kills a person who is important or well-known. Murders are just killing a nobody. Also, assassinations are almost always premeditated."
"So what do they call killing a transgenic?" Luke asked, "Since we're not really well-known but not nobodies either since everyone feels the need to hate us." Joshua's hand moved in a strong, bold arch across the canvas, a black ooze following behind his stroke.
"A heroic act," Dix said, and both of them snickered at the dark humor. Joshua rolled his eyes. He liked Dix and Luke, and he considered them friends now, but sometimes they were really pessimistic. His paint brush drifted in a circle around the canvas, and he let their conversation fade into the background again.
"I don't see why this guy qualifies as assassinated though," Luke said, returning his attention back to whatever was on the news, "I mean, he checks in this hotel and someone kills him. It was probably random."
Joshua needed gray, but he couldn't the can. He put his brush down and started rummaging through his supplies. He had had gray yesterday, he knew it, but now he couldn't find it.
"It can't be random if it was carried out by multiple attackers," said Dix, "Someone planned this and did a good job of it too. That's why they say he was assassinated."
"But they say he didn't have any identification on him or in his room so they don't know if he's famous or not," Luke replied, "He could've just been some teacher or something. He looks old."
Ah, there it was. Joshua picked up the can of gray paint and screwed the top off of it. With a twist of his wrist, he sent a splash of paint across the canvas, ruining the complete blackness. He picked up a smaller paint brush and started making the swirls to create the tunnel effect.
"Being old doesn't make you a teacher, Luke. And maybe having five bullets put through your heart is enough to make you important," Dix said. "And he was staying at the Max which is one of the last hotels left in Seattle, even if it is a garbage heap."
Joshua lifted his head. Did they say something about Max? He walked over to the open doorway of his studio and looked at the mule and the nomalie. "What about Max?"
"Not that Max, the hotel Max," Dix said. There wasn't irritation in his voice, just fact. He motioned towards the TV. "A human staying there was killed by some of guys in black armor outfits. Might be Familiars, might not."
"Why Familiars after him?" Joshua asked, stepping into the room to get a better look at the TV. There was one of those demon lady reporters talking while the screen showed images of the hotel. A series of pictures from the crime scene passed by and then they showed the victim's face.
The paint brush fell from Joshua's hand, startling both Luke and Dix.
"Joshua?" Luke asked but Joshua didn't respond.
He staggered toward the TV and fell on his knees in front of it. With a trembling hand, he reached out and touched his paint-stained fingertips to the screen, pointed, ragged fingernails clicking against the glass. The static fuzz zinged around his hand, but he didn't notice it. Luke and Dix shared a look behind his back, he heard their clothing rustle as they turned their heads, but it didn't register. His throat closed as he choked on the one word that was pounding through his mind over and over at the sight of the lifeless but far too familiar face on the screen.
"Father."