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Part 24
It’s been three days since I last saw Alec. Not that I’m counting or anything. Not that I care. Just an…observation.
I’m in Terminal City right now. Maybe that’s why I’m thinking about him. Not that I’m really thinking about him. Really, I’m not. It’s more like a…passing thought. I’m just hoping that I won’t run into him. That’s it. Not that I really care if I do run into him. Really. He’s nothing to me. I mean, why should I care?
Ugh. I can’t even lie to myself in a believable fashion.
I don’t want to think about him. I don’t want to dwell on our…on the past. I wish I could forget I ever knew him. Only that I…don’t. Deep down, I don’t really want to forget him, don’t want to forget about us. And that’s killing me.
No matter how busy I try to keep myself, no matter how much I throw myself into my search for Ava, he’s always there, lurking at the edge of my mind, read to pounce in case I let my guard down even for a second. And that happens more often than I care to admit.
Then there are the nights. Sleepless nights filled with nothing but tossing and turning don’t exactly keep your mind occupied. When it’s dark, thoughts seem to wander in directions you don’t want to explore even more so than by day.
During the day, my anger helps me to push those thoughts away, to concentrate on the matter at hand, whatever that may be. But at night…it’s like I used up all the anger I have inside of me during the day with none of it left to chase away my traitorous thoughts at night. And at night, I have even less control over them than by day.
Thinking about Alec is bad enough, but thinking about him in a way that can’t be described with the word ‘murderous’ is beyond bad.
And it’s dangerous. Dangerous for my heart, my soul…my sanity.
Then there are the dreams. Not the nightmares that robbed me of my sleep the first weeks in Seattle, still do at times. No, not those. Hell, I wished they were those kind of dreams.
I’m talking about dreams that will leave you waking up beyond hot and bothered, sweating and aching for relief, not giving a damn what a bastard a certain somebody is as long as he bestows the kind of pleasure upon you that your traitorous body is craving.
And then there are the other dreams, the kind that leaves you with a much more severe ache, lingering in your heart. The longing for something that was never there and could never be, the longing even for the illusion if the real thing is not possible.
Those are the most dangerous of all. With desire of the body I can deal. I ignore it, simply as that. If it becomes too much, I take care of it myself. Hardly comparable to the real thing, but it takes off the edge.
But desires of the heart…you can’t do anything to squelch the hunger. The painful throb of it is always there, and with every passing second it seems to intensify. It’s driving me crazy.
And it scares me.
I’m terrified that some day I’ll reach the point where I don’t give a damn, where I throw all principles over board and go running back to him, willing to take whatever sliver of himself he’s willing to give me, losing the last part of myself that I’m still holding on to – my pride, my stubbornness.
As much as I know that I can never go back, as much as I don’t want to go back to my old ways, the thought of this happening terrifies me more than all FBI Special Units and Skins put together.
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Okay, where the fuck is Logan? If it’s so important for him to get the papers right now, right this second, that I have to come to TC of all places then he’d damn well better be here. But alas, he’s nowhere to be found. Typical. Just like a man.
Mole – who, by the way, wouldn’t meet my eyes once – told me that he’s in the building where they keep their supplies. He described the way but every fucking building here could be the one he was talking about. They’re all gray, all on the brink of crumbing with broken or boarded up windows. Could he have been any less specific?!
I’m about to scream when I detect a familiar face. It’s Calvin. He sees me too, waves, grins. I can’t help but smile back. You just have to smile at Calvin.
He walks over, still beaming. “Hey Liz, nice to see you. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, I’ve been…” Avoiding the hell out of this place. “…busy.”
He smiles. “No biggie. Just nice to have you here. Thanks, by the way, for the comic you sent Joshua over with. Calvin and Hobbes just rocks! I love Hobbes, the way he’s all sarcastic but Calvin…Calvin is just too funny. Quite an honor to be named after him.”
I grin. “You would think so.”
He chuckles, grins back at me. I swear, he’s so cute I just want to shrink him and carry him around in my pocket to be able to pull him out whenever I feel like grinning like an idiot.
“So, whatcha doing here?” he asks me, his hands buried in his pockets, head slightly tilted, a mischievous smirk gracing his lips. There’s always a mischievous smirk gracing his lips, or a mischievous glint in his eyes. I just want to cuddle him, kiss those delightful dimples in his cheeks. I swear, he is more adorable than all puppies on this planet put together.
“Um, I’m looking for Logan actually. You didn’t by any chance happen to see him around, did you?”
He’s still grinning, rocking back and forth on the soles of his feet as if he were on the verge of starting a little happy dance or something.
“Sure, he’s helping with the supplies. We got plenty of new X6s and some X7s over the past few days, been in a bit of a squeeze with food and clothing and everything. Transgenics have one hell of an appetite, ya know.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter, before I remember that no matter how softly I speak, he can understand me, enhanced hearing and all.
My cheeks are burning but luckily, he doesn’t seem to catch on to what I was actually talking about. Sweet, innocent Calvin. No, he would hardly catch on to something like that.
“Logan helped out, got us some extra food and clothing and blankets and stuff,” he goes on. “Now we’re switched buildings since the old one is getting too small. Had to fix some stuff in the new one though, took us a couple of days.”
“Oh,” is all I say. I knew nothing of this. Guess this shows how much I’ve managed to cut myself off from the whole transgenic thing.
“He’s right in there,” Calvin tells me, pointing at the building behind him, the double doors wide open. “Just go right in if you need something from him.”
I glance over his shoulder. I’m not prepared for the jolt that goes through my body when I discover Alec among the other transgenics, his gaze fixed on me.
And it’s not just the slight electric buzz I sometimes felt with Max.
No, it’s the kind of full body slam that leaves you reeling for breath, for balance, knees weak, heart beating furiously. It feels like a punch to the gut, the kind that knocks your breath right out of you along with the ability to think or control any other body functions.
It takes a few moments before I can tear my gaze away from him, before the panic overrides the rest of my feelings and takes over my mind. “No, I…I have to go,” I tell Calvin, ignoring the confused look on his face. Shoving the brown envelope with the fake birth certificate and passport at him, I ask “Can you give this to Logan? Reliably?”
“Um, sure,” he says. I hardly even listen. He can burn it for all I care. I just need to get out of here before Alec comes out or something.
“Good. Great. Thanks.” I flash him one last smile, then I turn around and hurry off, almost running.
A muffled scream escapes my lips when Alec is suddenly standing in front of me. I barely manage to stop in time to keep from plowing into him at full speed. Not that that would have had any kind of impact on him I think, genetic superiority and all. I would have probably bounced right off his hard…muscular…chest…damn it, I need to focus here.
“Trying to outrun a transgenic is hardly a smart thing to do,” he tells me.
The mild insult is enough to rip me out of my daze. I glare at him, suddenly angry. Good. Anger is good. When you’re angry, you’re not hurting. When you’re angry, you don’t feel like crying. God knows I’ve cried enough to last me a life time in these past few days.
“I wasn’t trying to outrun anyone,” I growl, my eyes still shooting daggers at him.
“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” His tone is so arrogant, I just want to scratch my nails down that pretty face of his.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” His voice is still cool, still clipped with a certain steely undertone. There’s a part of me that actually wants to wince at his tone, but the anger wins out, burning away any feelings of guilt or regret. I didn’t do anything wrong and I’ll be damned if I let him make me feel like I did.
“Figure it out if you’re so smart.” I spit out the words as if they’re venom, then try to push past him. I guess I don’t have to mention how that goes out…little me up against six feet of prime transgenic. He moves in front of me, grabs me, his temper getting the better of him. But even in his rage he’s careful to keep his grip light enough as to not hurt me.
I want to weep because of it.
No doubt that he’s angry though. There’s fire in his eyes. Oh yes, he’s pissed alright. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
“With me?!” I exclaim before my voice turns into a hiss. “That’s rich. Nothing’s wrong with me. I just opened my eyes and saw what was there instead of what I wanted to see. And guess what, I didn’t happen to like it. Now let go of me before you end up on your ass. I doubt your ego would handle that very well.”
Apparently my words were more on target than I had expected…or intended. There’s a dazed hurt shimmering in his eyes before he shuts down all emotions, freezes over. Damn it, he’s almost better at that than I am.
“Well, I guess it’s good to know where you stand,” his voice chills me to the bone. I hate him for making me feel guilty, but he’s gone even before the urge to apologize can rise up inside of me.
I realize I’m trembling. Fuck.
How does he always do that to me?
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