The Glass House: Chapter Twenty Six
Jun. 28th, 2009 02:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wolfanficsBecause apparently I do my best editing late on a Saturday night. XD *pets poor neglected fic*
Title: The Glass House
Author: Sashataakheru
Beta: The wonderfulrana_narsilion <3
Fandom: The Chaser/AusComedy RPS
Starring: Adam Hills, Sepulchre (OC), Wil Anderson, Hamish Blake, Craig Reucassel, Tim Minchin, Julian Morrow, Chas Licciardello, Charles Firth, Chris Taylor, Andrew Hansen, Caleb (OC), Dr Rachel Hardy (OC), Antoinette Laurent (OC), Dr Samantha Reddings (OC), Dominic Knight, Shane Cubis, Gregor Stronach, Tim Brunero, Andy Lee
Pairings: Andrew/Chris; Adam/Hamish; Jules/Chas; Rachel/Antoinette(/Samantha); Adam/Seb; Adam/Wil; Craig/Caleb; Adam/Wil/Tim; Andrew/Craig, Wil/Chas; implied Tim/Craig, Hamish/Andy (after a fashion. XD)
Word Count: 5,025
Chapter: 26/32 [Previous]
Warnings: language, angst, mental... stuff (Andrew's fault. XD).
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: I don’t know them, not associated with them, just a slashy fangirl admirer with a very active imagination.
Author’s Notes: FYI, fullwing = winged human capable of flight. Halfwing = fullwing/human halfbreed, usually unable to fly, sometimes have vestigial wings, but can be removed to pass as human and not as winged.
Author's Notes II: And another simple change and I managed to cut another chapter. Instead of 32 + epilogue, it's more like 31 + epilogue (i.e. 32). XD EDITING RULZ. :D
Summary: Craig takes charge as he starts the journey back home with Chris and Andrew, while Charles and Caleb close in at last. Andrew, lost in his mind and unaware of what's going on around him, fights for his life.
Chapter Twenty Six
Craig wandered through the corridors until he found a room with a bed and gently lay Andrew down on it. He was unconscious, though his body was shaking erratically and his lips whispering soft pleas for mercy. There was a moment of hesitation. Craig didn't want to leave him, not in that state. Andrew clasped onto Craig's wrist, groping blindly for anything to help him fight. Craig knelt beside him, staying close.
"You'll be okay, Andrew. We'll get you out of here. Just hang on, okay?" Craig whispered, brushing the hair out of his eyes.
Craig couldn't hear Andrew's reply. Craig held him close. There was no way in hell he was letting Andrew die. Not now. Not after everything they'd been through.
"Just... hang on. I'm going to get Chris and we'll get out of here, okay? We'll go home to Charles and make you better and then everything will be okay, you hear me?" Craig said.
Andrew appeared to relax somewhat at the mention of being with Charles again. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Craig got to his feet and left Andrew where he was. He had to get Chris out and then they could leave.
All Andrew could see was black. Then the swirls of colour came. The voice returned, berating him for his disobedience. Andrew had never seen them so angry. The pain flooding his body was far too intense. He'd never felt pain like that before. He was certain he was about to die.
'Filthy human! You dare defy us? You shall die like you should've done earlier. Our time of mercy is long gone,' the voice said. It hissed in his ears, its displeasure perfecly clear.
I couldn't do it. Not to Craig. I just - you can't make me do that, Andrew replied, left with his thoughts as he was unable to speak aloud.
'You betray your true nature. You were the best interrogator in the armed forces. His torture should've been second-nature to you,' the voice said.
I didn't even want to be in the armed forces! I wanted to stay in school, not run off and be trained to kill and obey the call of my nation. I didn't want any of this, Andrew said.
'It was the only time you were ever important. Remember the priase they showered on you? You were an obedient soldier, just like you were supposed to obey us. Your failure will not be tolerated any longer,' the voice said.
Andrew's body was paralysed by the pain. He uttered a choking scream, fingers grasping the air. And then the angels came.
Andrew could never remember if he had imagined them or not. All he remembered was a bright white light and the feeling of white hot feathers against his skin. The voice screeched in pain, lashing out at Andrew, at the intruders, anything that was trying to kill it. Andrew was knocked into a deep coma, his mind unable and unwilling to cope with what was happening to his body.
Craig hurried to where Chris was still huddled in the cage and yanked the door off its hinges. He was too desperate to get out of there. Chris looked shocked as he saw Craig standing there naked.
"I'm assuming you're going to tell me what's going on here," Chris said as he crawled out of the cage.
"Look, no time, just follow me," Craig said, grabbing his arm.
Chris didn't bother asking what was going on. Clearly, the situation had changed. Something must be wrong. Was Andrew okay? He didn't find out until Craig led him back to the bedroom where Andrew was still unconscious.
"Jesus Christ. What happened to him? Is he okay?" Chris said.
"I don't know, but no way are we staying here now. He needs help," Craig said. "Go grab what you can and let's get out of here."
"Right. Hey, wait, look at that, what's that behind him? It looks like wings," Chris said, noticing the pale translucent wings lying limp underneath him as they caught the light.
Craig stepped closer and looked at them. "Wings? Where did he get them?" He reached out a hand to touch them and noticed a flare of red light washing over them. "That's not normal."
"You're telling me. Should we move him still?" Chris said.
"Of course we have to move him. He's not staying here like this. Go get whatever you can salvage and let's get out of here," Craig said. He knelt beside the bed and gently picked him up.
Andrew was settled in the back of the truck with Chris, while Craig went back for his clothes (it hadn't been a concern, not while Andrew was in trouble.) Well, of course it wasn't a concern. Andrew's unconscious. I rather think he was in more need of my attention than whether or not my beautiful body was clothed or not. Thanks for that delightful insight, Craig. You underestimate my ability to be awesome. Bloody canary.
Taking a few of the weapons Andrew had initially brought in case they needed them, Craig revved up the truck and drove off into the night. Seeing his surroundings, he had some idea of where they were and how to get back. That Andrew had been stupid enough to leave a marked map on the seat beside him also helped. Craig would make sure they got back so that Andrew could get some help. Then everything would be okay.
Instinct had sent Charles and Caleb down a long road towards a quarry. An old map they'd found in the abandoned pub had marked it as an old Army base, which matched what the man at the servo had told them. There were many quarries out this way, and many roads of similar length, but few led to old Army bases. With a feeling he was getting close to finding them, they sped down that road, hoping they were in time to save them.
Andrew wasn't aware of his surroundings. He wasn't even sure what had happened to him. All he knew was that he was still unconscious, but there was a fire in his back and his head was filled with song. The voice was nowhere to be felt or heard. Even if he had been awake, his brain wouldn't have lasted long. The intense pain it had had to endure had left it exhausted and in need of rest.
Sitting in the back of the truck, Chris held him gently, cradling his head in his lap. Something felt different about him, but Chris had no idea what. He was just glad he was alive, at least for the moment.
"-'zai," Andrew breathed. He didn't know what the word meant, just that it was a name. His name. He was dreaming of fire and flame and destruction now. A golden sword filled his vision, a sword he knew he would have. He would bring them all down and God would feel his vengeance.
Chris squeezed his hand gently, hoping he would be okay. "How far have we got to go?" he said, looking at Craig.
"Fucked if I know. Map just says this road goes for miles. I'm assuming this will lead to sealed road that will take us back to the city, but don't quote me on that until we actually find a sealed road. How's he doing?" Craig said.
"Still out, but it doesn't seem as deep as it was. Maybe he's waking up," Chris said.
"Keep an eye on him. If he does wake, don't let him do anything, you know, drastic," Craig said. He'd restrain him if he needed to, but he very much didn't want to resort to tying him up.
"I'll do my best. Let me know if you want me to drive at all," Chris said.
"Nah, I'm built for endurance. This is nothing. We'll be home soon enough," Craig said.
"You know if we get stopped, those wings of yours will be a dead giveaway, yes?" Chris said.
"And that's the point at which you drive and I fly on ahead to avoid being captured. That's why we brought the weapons. We might need them. I mean, honestly, you were a soldier, weren't you? You should know this stuff," Craig said.
"I was a Reservist, not a full-time soldier. There's a difference," Chris said.
"Same difference. You wore that uniform and took the gun they gave you. Makes you a soldier to me. It's how you survive, when you're a fullwing. Anyone with a uniform is a soldier likely to arrest you, kill you, or torture you. You learn to be very cautious about anyone in uniform," Craig said.
"I joined you years ago. You still don't trust me?" Chris said, surprised by his words.
"I never said that. You're just looking or a reason to get angry," Craig said.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"Just leave it, Chris. Look after Andrew," Craig said.
Chris glanced down at Andrew then. He was still the same as he had been. Chris gently stroked his head, wondering what was going on in his mind.
Charles had been driving for nearly two hours when they saw another truck approaching at incredible speed. There was a cloud of dust billowing behind it. The road was suddenly frighteningly narrow.
"We gotta pull over. There's no way that road is taking us both," Charles said.
"Oh, shit, that's them. That's the truck we've been searching for. We have to stop them," Caleb said, catching the number on the plates.
"You serious? Shit. Well, stop them already!" Charles said.
"I'm not the one driving, Charles!" Caleb said.
"Just - shut up and let me concentrate," Charles said.
Charles had never been good at this sort of driving, but there was no chance to back out now. Mustering all his skill, he managed to pull off a manoeuvre that would've got him praise had he still been in the Army. Their truck came to a screeching halt, their truck now lying across the road, blocking the approaching truck from passing.
If the sides of the road hadn't been such soft sand, and had he not had precious Andrew as cargo, Craig felt he would've taken the truck off-road and gone around the sudden obstacle. However, there wasn't room and Craig didn't want to shock Andrew, so he stopped the truck as best he could before he slammed into it. It would be right that they'd get stopped just as they're trying to escape. A soldier got out and made his way over to them.
"What do we do?" Craig said.
"See who it is first before panicking," Chris said.
Charles was out of the truck as soon as the other had stopped. He didn't want to waste any more time if it really was them. He ran to the truck and was relieved to see Craig in the driver's seat.
"Oh, there you are. We've been looking everywhere for you," Charles said.
"Jesus, Charles, you had me worried there for a moment," Craig said.
"Could say the same to you. Everyone okay?" Charles said.
"Andrew's not good. We need to get him back to base as soon as we can. Chris and I are fine though. Want us to follow you?" Craig said.
"No, get in the back of our truck. Word will have got out about the plates on that thing and that soldiers are looking for it. I'd rather not risk it now," Charles said.
"Wise move. Come on, Chris, you heard him. Get him out and in the back of their truck," Craig said.
Andrew had gone from unconscious to drowsy. He wasn't awake, not quite, but he was more aware of his surroundings than he had been before. He struggled as Chris and Craig carried him over to the other truck, but didn't wake enough to protest. Chris and Craig cradled him in the back, making sure he was okay. Once Charles had dealt with the other truck, they were ready to go.
"Right, let's get you guys home. Craig, I don't need to tell you to keep those wings hidden," Charles said as he climbed into the truck.
"No, you don't. Just drive, Caleb. Get us out of here. I'll tell you off for tagging along later," Craig said, only half serious.
"Please, I was more help than Charles is willing to admit," Caleb said, revving the engine. "And I'll get us home in one piece."
The truck lurched forward and managed to turn around. Facing down the road, Caleb drove off, taking them back home again. Quietly, Craig was thrilled he was there. He had missed him greatly, but he wouldn't admit it. He had to keep some semblance of authority over his young boyfriend.
Charles didn't want to stop. He was too impatient to get home, now that they had found them. It was Chris' pleading for a rest so they could take a proper look at Andrew that got to him. Reluctantly, Charles stopped at the next town they found that had a motel. They bought a room and finally had time to rest. Chris got Andrew comfortable on one of the beds while Craig and Caleb finally had time to catch up. Charles got his phone out to call Julian. He felt it time he checked in.
"Hey, Jules, I got them," Charles said.
"You found them? That's great. Are they hurt at all?" Julian said.
"Andrew's not looking good. He's not unconscious anymore, but he's still out of it. We're staying overnight to see how he fairs. I haven't had a chance to ask what happened yet," Charles said.
"Let me know as soon as possible. How long til you get back here?" Julian said.
"Late tomorrow? Depends on how Andrew is. If he gets worse, well, we might be on our own. If that happens, I'll let you know. We might have to take him in to the city," Charles said.
"Okay, don't bring any unwanted attention onto yourselves, and get back in one piece, okay? Be aware that the heightened security is being stepped up everywhere, not just in the city areas. You may find it harder to get back. Try and avoid checkpoints as much as possible. Use the back routes when you can. I do not want you guys getting caught up in this, alright?" Julian said.
"Yeah, yeah, that's what I was planning. I'll be changing the plates to ensure we don't rouse suspicion. I saw a couple of old trucks on the way here that I'll stick the old plates on, give the impression we ended up there instead and never got as far as the quarry. And yes, we cleaned out the caves so it looks like we were never there," Charles said.
"Excellent work. I figured you'd be aware of covering your tracks. I'll leave you to it then," Julian said and hung up.
Charles set the phone down and glanced over at Andrew. "Either of you know what happened to him?"
"I don't know. One minute he was, you know, being all aggressive, the next, he's on the floor, writhing in pain. I couldn't tell you what was going on. I broke free from the chains so I could see if he was okay. That's when I decided to bail. He wasn't this awake then. I don't know when he got those wings either. But something was going on inside his head. That's all I can get," Craig said.
"Shit. That is so not good. Well, I suppose we'll just have to see if he wakes and if he turns out to be okay. We'll see how he is tomorrow," Charles said.
Chris lay next to Andrew and brushed a thumb across his limp hand. Andrew had to be okay. Chris wouldn't let him stay this way forever.
FInally out of the truck and lying on a bed, Andrew settled into a light sleep. Chris kept close, his arms around him. He marvelled at his wings. They were warm and soft and felt like air. Chris could slip his fingers through them. He whispered to Andrew as he slept, urging him to wake at last.
Andrew heard him, and Andrew wanted to wake, but the pull of dreaming was too strong and Andrew fell, sinking into his unconsciousness, drawn by the heat and light and angelic song he remembered hearing before.
Andrew saw nothing but shining light and the faintest hints of wings and pale arms reaching out towards him. There was music all around him, the tune unknown and unrecognisable. The pale arms brought him towards them, embracing him with warmth and love. He had no idea where he was, he couldn't make out his surroundings, the bright light stopped him seeing anything. He wondered morbidly if they were taking his soul and this was his death.
"Azai, you live again. Come to us. We must explain your task," one of the voices said, urging Andrew to approach.
Andrew walked forward - if he could be seen to be walking on whatever it was that was below him towards whatever it was in front of him - and looked upwards, trying to see the beings that surrounded him. He couldn't make out anything. No faces, wings, bodies, nothing. He was in the company of invisible voices.
He glanced down, noticing his belt had become heavier. There was a sword attached to his belt now. It felt comforting, as if he knew it should be there. The sword at his side began vibrating and glowing as Andrew approached the beings of light. It hummed with life, with song, proving it to be a weapon of great power if wielded properly. Andrew knew when to stop as he was forced to his knees, hand grabbing for the sword. He unsheathed the sword and lay it before him. It floated in the air before him, humming quietly.
"You have a special task, Azai. Do you understand this?" another voice said.
"I suppose so, yeah," Andrew said, although aware there was something else influencing his responses. He could sort of feel another presence inside him, but he had no idea what it was.
"What needs to be done cannot be done by anyone else. They would all be massacred. That is why you do what you do to protect them, to save them dying. See this and remember this. You must destroy it or everything will be lost for good. This time you will remember! But be warned. Do not tell anyone what you are doing. This is just between us and you. You have been blessed. Do not ruin it," the voice said.
"You know, it's really not that comforting when you say I'm the only one who can do this. I mean, look at me! I'm not a warrior. I'm a tiny fragile man who bruises himself just getting up every morning. If you're after a strong warrior, you've picked the wrong person," Andrew said, fighting against the other presence influencing him in order to speak.
"You are stronger than you think. How else did you manage to stay free from the voice? It takes a very strong will to fight against that kind of brainwashing. You could've chosen the easy route and given in to it, but instead you chose the path of rebellion and fought it, verging on madness in a bid to survive. You proved to us how strong you are. That is why you were chosen," a third voice said.
"So I have no choice in the matter? There's no way I can stop it now?" Andrew said.
"What's done is done. Azai lives in you. He will teach you what you need to know. This is what we need you to do. This place, this thing, it cannot survive. Your rebellion will be for nothing if it still stands," the second voice said.
Andrew looked around as the scenery shifted from white light to a Government facility he recognised instantly. "No, no, not this place. It still stands? After all these years? No way. I'm not going back there," he said. He backed away from it, even though he wasn't actually there.
"You will go back there. You must. Only you know how to destroy it," the second voice said.
"I am not going back there and that's final. Find someone else to do your dirty work," Andrew said, turning to leave.
A hand reached out towards him and pulled him back. "You cannot leave. You will do as we say. Surely you would want to destroy the place that still haunts your nightmares?" the second voice said.
"No. I-I can't do it. It's too hard. I'm not going back there," Andrew said.
"You must. You must! Azai, you must confront your fears! It will need to be destroyed. Take pleasure in it, since it has scarred you so," the third voice said.
"I... I can't physically go anywhere near that place. It just... the memories are too strong. I can't go back," Andrew said.
"You will go back. You must. If you want your rebellion to succeed, you must destroy it. It holds dark horrors not meant to be seen that cannot be allowed to live and escape. You must destroy that place and all who dwell in it, for the sake of us all," the third voice said.
"You want me to kill? You want me to kill innocent people? There are still people kept in there? You're asking me to do too much. I can't kill. I just - can't. I won't do it," Andrew said, suddenly feeling quite ill.
"A few lives for the good of the nation. It must be done. You expect this rebellion to be blood-free? No, people will die, your own people will die. It is inevitable. You have no choice but to do as we say. As long as that place still stands, you will never succeed," the first voice said.
Andrew's knees collapsed under him, and he knelt on the ground, trying not to be sick. This may be the one thing he can't do. "I... I can't. Please. Anyone else could do this, but not me. I'd rather kill myself than do this," he said, fighting back the nausea.
"The people kept there now are beyond help. If you would go and see them, you would understand why we ask you to do this. Your father misses you. He wishes to see you again. Surely you can do that before you set your rebellion in motion," a fourth voice said.
"I have no father. He voided that when he turned on my mother. I have never forgiven him for that betrayal. I will not see him again. If he's still there, back at that place, so be it. Maybe I will destroy it after all, if only to rid myself of that traitor," Andrew said, suddenly angry.
"Time has changed him, Azai. He regrets what he did to chase you away. Go and see him before he dies," the second voice said.
"I have no father," Andrew said through gritted teeth.
"Go and see him," the second voice urges.
(The narrator wishes to object to this sudden and unwanted subplot that will inevitably lengthen the time it takes to get to the ending at long last) Shut it already. At least it's getting somewhere. Fuck off, Craig. Hey, didn't you want me to bring the snarky comments back? Make up your mind, silly narrator. At least you're here. I hope you're going to cooperate. I'm always cooperative. Yeah, sure you are.
"I don't want to go see him. He doesn't even exist to me," Andrew said, growing tired of their insistence, and possibly the narrator rudely interrupting the scene to bitch with Craig.
"You will go see him, Azai. Enough questions. Do as we say. There is no other choice," the third voice said.
Andrew sighed. He could sense he was fighting a losing battle. "Alright, alright, I'll go see my father. But don't expect me to be civil to him. Can I go now?" Andrew said impatiently.
"Such impertinence. Get out of our sight before we change our minds," the first voice said.
Andrew got to his feet and grabbed the sword, carefully sliding it into its sheath again. Andrew got the distinct impression he was being glared at as the beings of light left, leaving him alone in the darkness again, shivering in Chris' arms.
It was early morning by the time Andrew opened his eyes. He was tired, but lacked any desire to sleep. He looked around him. Everyone else was asleep. Chris had even succumbed to sleep as he watched over Andrew. Andrew slipped free from his arms and stood up. He was hungry, and somewhat sick of lying down. He went into the bathroom. It was then that he noticed the wings, and the heavy sword at his side.
"What the-? Where did they come from?" he murmured.
As if knowing he was talking about them, the wings burned brightly and fluttered behind him. It took him little time to work out he could control them and how to do so.
"I must still be dreaming. No one has wings like this."
He flapped them hard. There was a gust of hot air behind him, and he could've sworn he was lifted off the ground, even a little bit. Those wings were more powerful than he had first thought. He unsheathed the sword and looked at the intricate carvings on the blade. He could feel its power. He slipped it back into its sheath and straightened. Perhaps it had been the darkness that had stopped him noticing he didn't exactly have the same hair he had run away with. It was bright blue and purple and was a little longer than it should be.
"I'm beginning to feel like I'm never going to be free from invisible voices," Andrew said.
He sighed. He remembered the mission the dream had charged him with. He would go now, but he didn't think the others would appreciate that. He wanted time to sort out what had happened first. The time wasn't right, but soon, soon he would go and destroy that place and finally wipe it out of existence because, as the dream had reminded him, he still had nightmares about it.
He was sure Charles would've noticed, but Andrew had more than enough trauma from war to mask the silly bad memories of a psych hospital gone wrong, and the madness of his father. Andrew had used war as an excuse far too often to mask what he'd really been dreaming about, and Charles was in no position to distinguish truth from lies. Charles understood war, just like he did.
His decision made, he crawled back in bed with Chris and settled down to rest. He wasn't tired, but he knew Chris would be worried if he wasn't there when he woke. A hand rested on the sword at his side, trying to comprehend the task he'd been given.
Andrew was perfectly content in the morning by the time everyone else was waking. He lay there, basking in the warmth from the sun and his wings. It was going to be a good day. He could feel power flowing through his veins. He had done a lot of thinking over the last few hours and he'd begun to see how he'd changed. One of the ways he'd changed was that he appeared to have some sort of magic. He kept this to himself, however, not wishing to raise suspicions.
Chris was pleasantly surprised to find Andrew awake. It was comforting. Everything would be okay now. He turned and took his hand, curling up close to him.
"Hey, nice to see you awake. You okay?" Chris said softly.
"Yeah, I'll live. I'm a resilient little bastard," Andrew said with a grin.
"We're heading home, okay? Charles and Caleb found us," Chris said.
"Oh, that'll be nice. I miss having a comfortable bed to sleep in," Andrew said.
Chris closed his eyes as he leant against him. He'd missed him. But Andrew was back, he was okay. Things would be okay from now on. Andrew held him loosely, not wishing to be apart from him.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking," Andrew murmured after a while.
"It's okay. It's not your fault," Chris said.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Andrew said.
"No, we're fine. You're safe now, that's all that matters," Chris said.
Andrew smiled. Chris kissed him gently and smiled back.
"Nice hair," Chris said, running a hand through it.
"Don't ask. I don't even know where it came from," Andrew said.
"It's hair, Hansen. I think it's safe to say it came out of your scalp," Chris said.
"Thank you for that, Doctor Taylor," Andrew said. "Hey, feel like a shower? I feel like I haven't had a wash in a week."
"Speak for yourself. Come on then, we'll see how good this one is," Chris said.
Quietly, since Charles, Caleb and Craig were still asleep, they made their way to the bathroom and shut the door, hoping the shower worked and produced hot water. They were in luck. They undressed and eagerly got under the water, holding each other close. Andrew's wings became almost completely transparent and shook themselves occasionally to avoid getting water clogged in them.
"Do you remember much about what happened?" Chris asked.
"Some of it. It's in bits and pieces. I figure it's probably for the best. I'm not sure I want to remember that stuff," Andrew said.
"Fair enough. I'll stop talking about it, okay?" Chris said.
"That's very generous of you," Andrew said.
Chris kissed him slowly, savouring the time they had to themselves. It felt wonderful to be able to be close to him again without the threat of violence or being locked in a cage hanging over his head. Andrew was still fragile, but at least he was alive.
Title: The Glass House
Author: Sashataakheru
Beta: The wonderful
rana_narsilion <3Fandom: The Chaser/AusComedy RPS
Starring: Adam Hills, Sepulchre (OC), Wil Anderson, Hamish Blake, Craig Reucassel, Tim Minchin, Julian Morrow, Chas Licciardello, Charles Firth, Chris Taylor, Andrew Hansen, Caleb (OC), Dr Rachel Hardy (OC), Antoinette Laurent (OC), Dr Samantha Reddings (OC), Dominic Knight, Shane Cubis, Gregor Stronach, Tim Brunero, Andy Lee
Pairings: Andrew/Chris; Adam/Hamish; Jules/Chas; Rachel/Antoinette(/Samantha); Adam/Seb; Adam/Wil; Craig/Caleb; Adam/Wil/Tim; Andrew/Craig, Wil/Chas; implied Tim/Craig, Hamish/Andy (after a fashion. XD)
Word Count: 5,025
Chapter: 26/32 [Previous]
Warnings: language, angst, mental... stuff (Andrew's fault. XD).
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimer: I don’t know them, not associated with them, just a slashy fangirl admirer with a very active imagination.
Author’s Notes: FYI, fullwing = winged human capable of flight. Halfwing = fullwing/human halfbreed, usually unable to fly, sometimes have vestigial wings, but can be removed to pass as human and not as winged.
Author's Notes II: And another simple change and I managed to cut another chapter. Instead of 32 + epilogue, it's more like 31 + epilogue (i.e. 32). XD EDITING RULZ. :D
Summary: Craig takes charge as he starts the journey back home with Chris and Andrew, while Charles and Caleb close in at last. Andrew, lost in his mind and unaware of what's going on around him, fights for his life.
Chapter Twenty Six
Craig wandered through the corridors until he found a room with a bed and gently lay Andrew down on it. He was unconscious, though his body was shaking erratically and his lips whispering soft pleas for mercy. There was a moment of hesitation. Craig didn't want to leave him, not in that state. Andrew clasped onto Craig's wrist, groping blindly for anything to help him fight. Craig knelt beside him, staying close.
"You'll be okay, Andrew. We'll get you out of here. Just hang on, okay?" Craig whispered, brushing the hair out of his eyes.
Craig couldn't hear Andrew's reply. Craig held him close. There was no way in hell he was letting Andrew die. Not now. Not after everything they'd been through.
"Just... hang on. I'm going to get Chris and we'll get out of here, okay? We'll go home to Charles and make you better and then everything will be okay, you hear me?" Craig said.
Andrew appeared to relax somewhat at the mention of being with Charles again. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Craig got to his feet and left Andrew where he was. He had to get Chris out and then they could leave.
All Andrew could see was black. Then the swirls of colour came. The voice returned, berating him for his disobedience. Andrew had never seen them so angry. The pain flooding his body was far too intense. He'd never felt pain like that before. He was certain he was about to die.
'Filthy human! You dare defy us? You shall die like you should've done earlier. Our time of mercy is long gone,' the voice said. It hissed in his ears, its displeasure perfecly clear.
I couldn't do it. Not to Craig. I just - you can't make me do that, Andrew replied, left with his thoughts as he was unable to speak aloud.
'You betray your true nature. You were the best interrogator in the armed forces. His torture should've been second-nature to you,' the voice said.
I didn't even want to be in the armed forces! I wanted to stay in school, not run off and be trained to kill and obey the call of my nation. I didn't want any of this, Andrew said.
'It was the only time you were ever important. Remember the priase they showered on you? You were an obedient soldier, just like you were supposed to obey us. Your failure will not be tolerated any longer,' the voice said.
Andrew's body was paralysed by the pain. He uttered a choking scream, fingers grasping the air. And then the angels came.
Andrew could never remember if he had imagined them or not. All he remembered was a bright white light and the feeling of white hot feathers against his skin. The voice screeched in pain, lashing out at Andrew, at the intruders, anything that was trying to kill it. Andrew was knocked into a deep coma, his mind unable and unwilling to cope with what was happening to his body.
Craig hurried to where Chris was still huddled in the cage and yanked the door off its hinges. He was too desperate to get out of there. Chris looked shocked as he saw Craig standing there naked.
"I'm assuming you're going to tell me what's going on here," Chris said as he crawled out of the cage.
"Look, no time, just follow me," Craig said, grabbing his arm.
Chris didn't bother asking what was going on. Clearly, the situation had changed. Something must be wrong. Was Andrew okay? He didn't find out until Craig led him back to the bedroom where Andrew was still unconscious.
"Jesus Christ. What happened to him? Is he okay?" Chris said.
"I don't know, but no way are we staying here now. He needs help," Craig said. "Go grab what you can and let's get out of here."
"Right. Hey, wait, look at that, what's that behind him? It looks like wings," Chris said, noticing the pale translucent wings lying limp underneath him as they caught the light.
Craig stepped closer and looked at them. "Wings? Where did he get them?" He reached out a hand to touch them and noticed a flare of red light washing over them. "That's not normal."
"You're telling me. Should we move him still?" Chris said.
"Of course we have to move him. He's not staying here like this. Go get whatever you can salvage and let's get out of here," Craig said. He knelt beside the bed and gently picked him up.
Andrew was settled in the back of the truck with Chris, while Craig went back for his clothes (it hadn't been a concern, not while Andrew was in trouble.) Well, of course it wasn't a concern. Andrew's unconscious. I rather think he was in more need of my attention than whether or not my beautiful body was clothed or not. Thanks for that delightful insight, Craig. You underestimate my ability to be awesome. Bloody canary.
Taking a few of the weapons Andrew had initially brought in case they needed them, Craig revved up the truck and drove off into the night. Seeing his surroundings, he had some idea of where they were and how to get back. That Andrew had been stupid enough to leave a marked map on the seat beside him also helped. Craig would make sure they got back so that Andrew could get some help. Then everything would be okay.
Instinct had sent Charles and Caleb down a long road towards a quarry. An old map they'd found in the abandoned pub had marked it as an old Army base, which matched what the man at the servo had told them. There were many quarries out this way, and many roads of similar length, but few led to old Army bases. With a feeling he was getting close to finding them, they sped down that road, hoping they were in time to save them.
Andrew wasn't aware of his surroundings. He wasn't even sure what had happened to him. All he knew was that he was still unconscious, but there was a fire in his back and his head was filled with song. The voice was nowhere to be felt or heard. Even if he had been awake, his brain wouldn't have lasted long. The intense pain it had had to endure had left it exhausted and in need of rest.
Sitting in the back of the truck, Chris held him gently, cradling his head in his lap. Something felt different about him, but Chris had no idea what. He was just glad he was alive, at least for the moment.
"-'zai," Andrew breathed. He didn't know what the word meant, just that it was a name. His name. He was dreaming of fire and flame and destruction now. A golden sword filled his vision, a sword he knew he would have. He would bring them all down and God would feel his vengeance.
Chris squeezed his hand gently, hoping he would be okay. "How far have we got to go?" he said, looking at Craig.
"Fucked if I know. Map just says this road goes for miles. I'm assuming this will lead to sealed road that will take us back to the city, but don't quote me on that until we actually find a sealed road. How's he doing?" Craig said.
"Still out, but it doesn't seem as deep as it was. Maybe he's waking up," Chris said.
"Keep an eye on him. If he does wake, don't let him do anything, you know, drastic," Craig said. He'd restrain him if he needed to, but he very much didn't want to resort to tying him up.
"I'll do my best. Let me know if you want me to drive at all," Chris said.
"Nah, I'm built for endurance. This is nothing. We'll be home soon enough," Craig said.
"You know if we get stopped, those wings of yours will be a dead giveaway, yes?" Chris said.
"And that's the point at which you drive and I fly on ahead to avoid being captured. That's why we brought the weapons. We might need them. I mean, honestly, you were a soldier, weren't you? You should know this stuff," Craig said.
"I was a Reservist, not a full-time soldier. There's a difference," Chris said.
"Same difference. You wore that uniform and took the gun they gave you. Makes you a soldier to me. It's how you survive, when you're a fullwing. Anyone with a uniform is a soldier likely to arrest you, kill you, or torture you. You learn to be very cautious about anyone in uniform," Craig said.
"I joined you years ago. You still don't trust me?" Chris said, surprised by his words.
"I never said that. You're just looking or a reason to get angry," Craig said.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"Just leave it, Chris. Look after Andrew," Craig said.
Chris glanced down at Andrew then. He was still the same as he had been. Chris gently stroked his head, wondering what was going on in his mind.
Charles had been driving for nearly two hours when they saw another truck approaching at incredible speed. There was a cloud of dust billowing behind it. The road was suddenly frighteningly narrow.
"We gotta pull over. There's no way that road is taking us both," Charles said.
"Oh, shit, that's them. That's the truck we've been searching for. We have to stop them," Caleb said, catching the number on the plates.
"You serious? Shit. Well, stop them already!" Charles said.
"I'm not the one driving, Charles!" Caleb said.
"Just - shut up and let me concentrate," Charles said.
Charles had never been good at this sort of driving, but there was no chance to back out now. Mustering all his skill, he managed to pull off a manoeuvre that would've got him praise had he still been in the Army. Their truck came to a screeching halt, their truck now lying across the road, blocking the approaching truck from passing.
If the sides of the road hadn't been such soft sand, and had he not had precious Andrew as cargo, Craig felt he would've taken the truck off-road and gone around the sudden obstacle. However, there wasn't room and Craig didn't want to shock Andrew, so he stopped the truck as best he could before he slammed into it. It would be right that they'd get stopped just as they're trying to escape. A soldier got out and made his way over to them.
"What do we do?" Craig said.
"See who it is first before panicking," Chris said.
Charles was out of the truck as soon as the other had stopped. He didn't want to waste any more time if it really was them. He ran to the truck and was relieved to see Craig in the driver's seat.
"Oh, there you are. We've been looking everywhere for you," Charles said.
"Jesus, Charles, you had me worried there for a moment," Craig said.
"Could say the same to you. Everyone okay?" Charles said.
"Andrew's not good. We need to get him back to base as soon as we can. Chris and I are fine though. Want us to follow you?" Craig said.
"No, get in the back of our truck. Word will have got out about the plates on that thing and that soldiers are looking for it. I'd rather not risk it now," Charles said.
"Wise move. Come on, Chris, you heard him. Get him out and in the back of their truck," Craig said.
Andrew had gone from unconscious to drowsy. He wasn't awake, not quite, but he was more aware of his surroundings than he had been before. He struggled as Chris and Craig carried him over to the other truck, but didn't wake enough to protest. Chris and Craig cradled him in the back, making sure he was okay. Once Charles had dealt with the other truck, they were ready to go.
"Right, let's get you guys home. Craig, I don't need to tell you to keep those wings hidden," Charles said as he climbed into the truck.
"No, you don't. Just drive, Caleb. Get us out of here. I'll tell you off for tagging along later," Craig said, only half serious.
"Please, I was more help than Charles is willing to admit," Caleb said, revving the engine. "And I'll get us home in one piece."
The truck lurched forward and managed to turn around. Facing down the road, Caleb drove off, taking them back home again. Quietly, Craig was thrilled he was there. He had missed him greatly, but he wouldn't admit it. He had to keep some semblance of authority over his young boyfriend.
Charles didn't want to stop. He was too impatient to get home, now that they had found them. It was Chris' pleading for a rest so they could take a proper look at Andrew that got to him. Reluctantly, Charles stopped at the next town they found that had a motel. They bought a room and finally had time to rest. Chris got Andrew comfortable on one of the beds while Craig and Caleb finally had time to catch up. Charles got his phone out to call Julian. He felt it time he checked in.
"Hey, Jules, I got them," Charles said.
"You found them? That's great. Are they hurt at all?" Julian said.
"Andrew's not looking good. He's not unconscious anymore, but he's still out of it. We're staying overnight to see how he fairs. I haven't had a chance to ask what happened yet," Charles said.
"Let me know as soon as possible. How long til you get back here?" Julian said.
"Late tomorrow? Depends on how Andrew is. If he gets worse, well, we might be on our own. If that happens, I'll let you know. We might have to take him in to the city," Charles said.
"Okay, don't bring any unwanted attention onto yourselves, and get back in one piece, okay? Be aware that the heightened security is being stepped up everywhere, not just in the city areas. You may find it harder to get back. Try and avoid checkpoints as much as possible. Use the back routes when you can. I do not want you guys getting caught up in this, alright?" Julian said.
"Yeah, yeah, that's what I was planning. I'll be changing the plates to ensure we don't rouse suspicion. I saw a couple of old trucks on the way here that I'll stick the old plates on, give the impression we ended up there instead and never got as far as the quarry. And yes, we cleaned out the caves so it looks like we were never there," Charles said.
"Excellent work. I figured you'd be aware of covering your tracks. I'll leave you to it then," Julian said and hung up.
Charles set the phone down and glanced over at Andrew. "Either of you know what happened to him?"
"I don't know. One minute he was, you know, being all aggressive, the next, he's on the floor, writhing in pain. I couldn't tell you what was going on. I broke free from the chains so I could see if he was okay. That's when I decided to bail. He wasn't this awake then. I don't know when he got those wings either. But something was going on inside his head. That's all I can get," Craig said.
"Shit. That is so not good. Well, I suppose we'll just have to see if he wakes and if he turns out to be okay. We'll see how he is tomorrow," Charles said.
Chris lay next to Andrew and brushed a thumb across his limp hand. Andrew had to be okay. Chris wouldn't let him stay this way forever.
FInally out of the truck and lying on a bed, Andrew settled into a light sleep. Chris kept close, his arms around him. He marvelled at his wings. They were warm and soft and felt like air. Chris could slip his fingers through them. He whispered to Andrew as he slept, urging him to wake at last.
Andrew heard him, and Andrew wanted to wake, but the pull of dreaming was too strong and Andrew fell, sinking into his unconsciousness, drawn by the heat and light and angelic song he remembered hearing before.
Andrew saw nothing but shining light and the faintest hints of wings and pale arms reaching out towards him. There was music all around him, the tune unknown and unrecognisable. The pale arms brought him towards them, embracing him with warmth and love. He had no idea where he was, he couldn't make out his surroundings, the bright light stopped him seeing anything. He wondered morbidly if they were taking his soul and this was his death.
"Azai, you live again. Come to us. We must explain your task," one of the voices said, urging Andrew to approach.
Andrew walked forward - if he could be seen to be walking on whatever it was that was below him towards whatever it was in front of him - and looked upwards, trying to see the beings that surrounded him. He couldn't make out anything. No faces, wings, bodies, nothing. He was in the company of invisible voices.
He glanced down, noticing his belt had become heavier. There was a sword attached to his belt now. It felt comforting, as if he knew it should be there. The sword at his side began vibrating and glowing as Andrew approached the beings of light. It hummed with life, with song, proving it to be a weapon of great power if wielded properly. Andrew knew when to stop as he was forced to his knees, hand grabbing for the sword. He unsheathed the sword and lay it before him. It floated in the air before him, humming quietly.
"You have a special task, Azai. Do you understand this?" another voice said.
"I suppose so, yeah," Andrew said, although aware there was something else influencing his responses. He could sort of feel another presence inside him, but he had no idea what it was.
"What needs to be done cannot be done by anyone else. They would all be massacred. That is why you do what you do to protect them, to save them dying. See this and remember this. You must destroy it or everything will be lost for good. This time you will remember! But be warned. Do not tell anyone what you are doing. This is just between us and you. You have been blessed. Do not ruin it," the voice said.
"You know, it's really not that comforting when you say I'm the only one who can do this. I mean, look at me! I'm not a warrior. I'm a tiny fragile man who bruises himself just getting up every morning. If you're after a strong warrior, you've picked the wrong person," Andrew said, fighting against the other presence influencing him in order to speak.
"You are stronger than you think. How else did you manage to stay free from the voice? It takes a very strong will to fight against that kind of brainwashing. You could've chosen the easy route and given in to it, but instead you chose the path of rebellion and fought it, verging on madness in a bid to survive. You proved to us how strong you are. That is why you were chosen," a third voice said.
"So I have no choice in the matter? There's no way I can stop it now?" Andrew said.
"What's done is done. Azai lives in you. He will teach you what you need to know. This is what we need you to do. This place, this thing, it cannot survive. Your rebellion will be for nothing if it still stands," the second voice said.
Andrew looked around as the scenery shifted from white light to a Government facility he recognised instantly. "No, no, not this place. It still stands? After all these years? No way. I'm not going back there," he said. He backed away from it, even though he wasn't actually there.
"You will go back there. You must. Only you know how to destroy it," the second voice said.
"I am not going back there and that's final. Find someone else to do your dirty work," Andrew said, turning to leave.
A hand reached out towards him and pulled him back. "You cannot leave. You will do as we say. Surely you would want to destroy the place that still haunts your nightmares?" the second voice said.
"No. I-I can't do it. It's too hard. I'm not going back there," Andrew said.
"You must. You must! Azai, you must confront your fears! It will need to be destroyed. Take pleasure in it, since it has scarred you so," the third voice said.
"I... I can't physically go anywhere near that place. It just... the memories are too strong. I can't go back," Andrew said.
"You will go back. You must. If you want your rebellion to succeed, you must destroy it. It holds dark horrors not meant to be seen that cannot be allowed to live and escape. You must destroy that place and all who dwell in it, for the sake of us all," the third voice said.
"You want me to kill? You want me to kill innocent people? There are still people kept in there? You're asking me to do too much. I can't kill. I just - can't. I won't do it," Andrew said, suddenly feeling quite ill.
"A few lives for the good of the nation. It must be done. You expect this rebellion to be blood-free? No, people will die, your own people will die. It is inevitable. You have no choice but to do as we say. As long as that place still stands, you will never succeed," the first voice said.
Andrew's knees collapsed under him, and he knelt on the ground, trying not to be sick. This may be the one thing he can't do. "I... I can't. Please. Anyone else could do this, but not me. I'd rather kill myself than do this," he said, fighting back the nausea.
"The people kept there now are beyond help. If you would go and see them, you would understand why we ask you to do this. Your father misses you. He wishes to see you again. Surely you can do that before you set your rebellion in motion," a fourth voice said.
"I have no father. He voided that when he turned on my mother. I have never forgiven him for that betrayal. I will not see him again. If he's still there, back at that place, so be it. Maybe I will destroy it after all, if only to rid myself of that traitor," Andrew said, suddenly angry.
"Time has changed him, Azai. He regrets what he did to chase you away. Go and see him before he dies," the second voice said.
"I have no father," Andrew said through gritted teeth.
"Go and see him," the second voice urges.
(The narrator wishes to object to this sudden and unwanted subplot that will inevitably lengthen the time it takes to get to the ending at long last) Shut it already. At least it's getting somewhere. Fuck off, Craig. Hey, didn't you want me to bring the snarky comments back? Make up your mind, silly narrator. At least you're here. I hope you're going to cooperate. I'm always cooperative. Yeah, sure you are.
"I don't want to go see him. He doesn't even exist to me," Andrew said, growing tired of their insistence, and possibly the narrator rudely interrupting the scene to bitch with Craig.
"You will go see him, Azai. Enough questions. Do as we say. There is no other choice," the third voice said.
Andrew sighed. He could sense he was fighting a losing battle. "Alright, alright, I'll go see my father. But don't expect me to be civil to him. Can I go now?" Andrew said impatiently.
"Such impertinence. Get out of our sight before we change our minds," the first voice said.
Andrew got to his feet and grabbed the sword, carefully sliding it into its sheath again. Andrew got the distinct impression he was being glared at as the beings of light left, leaving him alone in the darkness again, shivering in Chris' arms.
It was early morning by the time Andrew opened his eyes. He was tired, but lacked any desire to sleep. He looked around him. Everyone else was asleep. Chris had even succumbed to sleep as he watched over Andrew. Andrew slipped free from his arms and stood up. He was hungry, and somewhat sick of lying down. He went into the bathroom. It was then that he noticed the wings, and the heavy sword at his side.
"What the-? Where did they come from?" he murmured.
As if knowing he was talking about them, the wings burned brightly and fluttered behind him. It took him little time to work out he could control them and how to do so.
"I must still be dreaming. No one has wings like this."
He flapped them hard. There was a gust of hot air behind him, and he could've sworn he was lifted off the ground, even a little bit. Those wings were more powerful than he had first thought. He unsheathed the sword and looked at the intricate carvings on the blade. He could feel its power. He slipped it back into its sheath and straightened. Perhaps it had been the darkness that had stopped him noticing he didn't exactly have the same hair he had run away with. It was bright blue and purple and was a little longer than it should be.
"I'm beginning to feel like I'm never going to be free from invisible voices," Andrew said.
He sighed. He remembered the mission the dream had charged him with. He would go now, but he didn't think the others would appreciate that. He wanted time to sort out what had happened first. The time wasn't right, but soon, soon he would go and destroy that place and finally wipe it out of existence because, as the dream had reminded him, he still had nightmares about it.
He was sure Charles would've noticed, but Andrew had more than enough trauma from war to mask the silly bad memories of a psych hospital gone wrong, and the madness of his father. Andrew had used war as an excuse far too often to mask what he'd really been dreaming about, and Charles was in no position to distinguish truth from lies. Charles understood war, just like he did.
His decision made, he crawled back in bed with Chris and settled down to rest. He wasn't tired, but he knew Chris would be worried if he wasn't there when he woke. A hand rested on the sword at his side, trying to comprehend the task he'd been given.
Andrew was perfectly content in the morning by the time everyone else was waking. He lay there, basking in the warmth from the sun and his wings. It was going to be a good day. He could feel power flowing through his veins. He had done a lot of thinking over the last few hours and he'd begun to see how he'd changed. One of the ways he'd changed was that he appeared to have some sort of magic. He kept this to himself, however, not wishing to raise suspicions.
Chris was pleasantly surprised to find Andrew awake. It was comforting. Everything would be okay now. He turned and took his hand, curling up close to him.
"Hey, nice to see you awake. You okay?" Chris said softly.
"Yeah, I'll live. I'm a resilient little bastard," Andrew said with a grin.
"We're heading home, okay? Charles and Caleb found us," Chris said.
"Oh, that'll be nice. I miss having a comfortable bed to sleep in," Andrew said.
Chris closed his eyes as he leant against him. He'd missed him. But Andrew was back, he was okay. Things would be okay from now on. Andrew held him loosely, not wishing to be apart from him.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking," Andrew murmured after a while.
"It's okay. It's not your fault," Chris said.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Andrew said.
"No, we're fine. You're safe now, that's all that matters," Chris said.
Andrew smiled. Chris kissed him gently and smiled back.
"Nice hair," Chris said, running a hand through it.
"Don't ask. I don't even know where it came from," Andrew said.
"It's hair, Hansen. I think it's safe to say it came out of your scalp," Chris said.
"Thank you for that, Doctor Taylor," Andrew said. "Hey, feel like a shower? I feel like I haven't had a wash in a week."
"Speak for yourself. Come on then, we'll see how good this one is," Chris said.
Quietly, since Charles, Caleb and Craig were still asleep, they made their way to the bathroom and shut the door, hoping the shower worked and produced hot water. They were in luck. They undressed and eagerly got under the water, holding each other close. Andrew's wings became almost completely transparent and shook themselves occasionally to avoid getting water clogged in them.
"Do you remember much about what happened?" Chris asked.
"Some of it. It's in bits and pieces. I figure it's probably for the best. I'm not sure I want to remember that stuff," Andrew said.
"Fair enough. I'll stop talking about it, okay?" Chris said.
"That's very generous of you," Andrew said.
Chris kissed him slowly, savouring the time they had to themselves. It felt wonderful to be able to be close to him again without the threat of violence or being locked in a cage hanging over his head. Andrew was still fragile, but at least he was alive.