(Dark Angel/Heroes) Hero for karrenia_rune
Title: Hero
Author: shortestgiraffe
Fandoms: Dark Angel/Heroes
Characters Rebel(Micah), Molly; Logan, Max
Pairings: Hints of Micah/Molly and canon level Logan/Max
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1916
Spoilers: Through Heroes season three episode Cold Snap. General season two for Dark Angel.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Heroes and Dark Angel belong to their respective creators
A/N: Thanks to Scotlandfreak and waterbringer for betaing! Also, this was the fic that wouldn’t end, and if it had gone on as much as it seemed to want to, it would have been finished at twenty thousand words and sometime in 2010, so I had to pick the best reasonable stopping point.
Summary: Rebel asks for a favor. Eyes Only obliges.
"Do not attempt to adjust your set. This is a streaming freedom video bulletin. The cable hack will last exactly sixty seconds. It cannot be traced, it cannot be stopped, and it is the only free voice left in the city.
"Recently it was revealed that there are people who have been altered, made...different. People who can do things others can't.
"They are not alone. There are others, people who were not created, but were born with abilities. People with no more choice in what they can do than we have in what color hair we're born with. And yet not long ago the government implemented a program to hunt down these individuals and lock them up --many of whom have only committed the crime of existing. Being different.
"If you are one of these people, take care. They will not stop, they will not rest, until they have everyone who has an ability, man, woman or child. If you they come for you, there will be warning. Rebel is watching."
Logan paused, partially for dramatic effect, but also to let the timer run out, before reaching a hand out to stop the feed. Only after confirming that the transmission had ended did he let his head drop back, slipping his glasses back on. He waited. It took a moment for the nearest screen to go black, leaving only a blinking white cursor visible in the center.
"So," he said, lifting his head. "How do you think it went?"
It's a start. I'm getting a lot of chatter about it right now through phones throughout the city. They're talking.
You changed the script.
Logan shrugged. "Just a little. I made sure to get the point across, but I had to make it fit in sixty seconds. And I was wary of using the word 'mutant'. Felt like I was in an X-Men story.
Is that a bad thing?
Logan grinned. "Only if you don't mind Rebel and Eyes Only being painted as delusional 12 year olds who read too many comic books."
There's no such thing as too many.
Logan laughed. "If you say so. I can't remember the last time I even saw a comic that wasn't some rare edition on the black market." His smile faded and he grew abruptly serious. "I don't know if many will believe the broadcast regardless of how it was worded. I've been stretching my credibility thin as it is, ever since I started talking about genetic experiments and evil underground organizations. Bringing actual...well, 'mutants' into the picture may be stretching too far for a lot of people."
It's enough. The people who have abilities and know it will at least be aware that they're in danger, and that there are others out there, ones who can help. It'll have to be enough.
"Right. Enough." Logan scrubbed a hand across his face and glanced at the screen. The cursor was still there, blinking innocently. He frowned. This conversation was running long, compared to the others he'd had. Usually Rebel ended them without warning once he felt there wasn't anything more to be said. He only lingered when...
"Was there something else?"
I need a favor.
Logan raised an eyebrow. "I thought I just did you a favor," he noted with more curiosity than irritation.
You did. I need another one. I have a friend who needs a place to stay.
"Another underground railroad refugee? Why ask me, usually you contact one of Asha's people for those."
This one is different. She's spec
Logan watched in bemusement as the cursor seemed to hesitate before, for the first time since Rebel had first contacted him, going backwards and deleting the last few letters.
Important.
"Important," Logan repeated. He thought this over. "Not a runner, another refugee. A partner. Another rebel."
There was no answer, though the cursor somehow managed to blink expectantly. Logan tapped his fingers thoughtfully.
This had never happened before. Rebel, when not all business, had come across as...friendly, certainly, but they had kept all information concerning their respective causes on a need to know basis only (though from his technical prowess, Logan suspected Rebel knew a lot more about Eyes Only than he let on). Apart from the basic situation, Rebel had never volunteered anything specific about his own work, or even hinted that he worked with anyone. Logan had gotten the impression that he'd already lost at least one person to the cause and it had made him cautious. Important was probably an understatement.
"When can I expect her to arrive?"
"About fifteen seconds ago," came a cheerful voice behind him. Logan jumped in spite of himself and spun the chair around. In the doorway stood a young girl, perhaps thirteen or fourteen if you were feeling generous.
"Uh," Logan said, caught off guard briefly. He glanced backwards, and saw that the nearest screen now only showed a blank text file, saved to the desktop as simply :).
If Logan were to check, he knew from experience, there would be no record of any sort of communications. "Hi?" Logan blinked and shook himself. He turned back to the door wheeled the chair forward. "I mean, hi. I'm Logan, Logan Cale. I understand we have a mutual friend." He hesitated, then held out a hand to shake. She smiled and took it.
"I'm Molly. It's nice to meet you, finally, Mr. Cale. You and Eyes Only have been a big help with everything."
Logan returned her smile. "Rebel's been an invaluable help himself," he said, and meant it. Rebel had hacked his way into systems Logan would have never considered worth the risk and left Eyes Only a trail to follow impossible to find unless you knew where to look. "Half of my broadcasts in the past few months have been because of him. And Logan is fine," he added absently, taking a moment to process. Molly --young girl somehow related to the leader of a (possibly one-man) underground movement--daughter, perhaps? Niece?
He glanced up and found her looking at him expectantly. He quickly shook away the thoughts--it could be considered bad form to start investigating your fellow anonymous activists. "Right. So, you need a place to stay."
---
"Just for a few days," Logan said, not looking up from the pot. "They were getting to close to Rebel, apparently, and they just need to scatter and disappear for a little while."
"Hadn't heard you were opening a hotel," Max said from her seat on the bar at the other side of the kitchen. Logan chuckled.
"The S1W and I have been helping Rebel's people hide in the city since he first proved he was the real deal. This is pretty much the same thing."
"Except you haven't let any of Rebel's other people crash at your place before," Max pointed out.
“Rebel has never asked me personally act as host before,” Logan replied. “I think Molly is really important to him, his daughter, maybe.” His stirring slowed as a thought struck him and he glanced up. ”Are you… not okay with this?”
Max blinked, caught off guard, then quickly straightened, crossing her arms in front of her defensively. ”No, no I--it‘s just, you‘ve already got a target on your back with the Manticore leftovers after you, not to mention half the city government and whoever else Eyes Only has managed to royally piss off over the years. Hiding his daughter or whatever from some government freak-hunters is kinda much, especially considering the company you keep already--”
"Daughter?"
Max whirled around. In the doorway again stood Molly, watching Max speculatively, and really, she needed a bell around her neck or something, Logan thought, turning off the stove. "Molly. You woke up just in time," he said casually, trying ask tell with Max with his eyes to please not to remind the little girl of the many dangerous people hunting her down at this very moment. She didn't get the message, as she was staring oddly wide-eyed at the doorway. "Molly," she repeated, faintly.
Logan suddenly came to a realization and, with no small measure of amusement asked, "Did, uh, did I not mention that Molly is twelve?"
"No, no you didn't," Max said, sounding as though she was trying to sound cross but couldn't quite manage it. Molly looked from one to the other curiously. Max suddenly seemed to remember herself and let her arms drop. She leaned against the counter, this time trying for casual, and said quickly, "Not that it matters, of course."
"Of course," Logan agreed, turning to both grab the stew and hide his smile. "So, Molly, you said you liked beef stew, right?"
--
Six days later, Molly was still living in the Cale household, and remained very tight-mouthed about anything concerning Rebel and his operation, no matter how casually Logan phrased the questions in his own desire to satisfy his curiosity, including her connection to Rebel, or whether she had an ability herself (very likely, Logan had decided, since he had determined early on that the two weren‘t actually related, based on her stifled amusement whenever it was brought up, and he couldn‘t think of another reason anyone would involve a kid in an underground resistance movement).
She was utterly polite and respectful, almost creepily so, as Max had declared early on. She had some brainwashing theories that she claimed were drawn from experience. Logan just assumed Molly was used to moving around a lot and staying with new people. Not to mention she clearly hadn’t been planning on staying very long.
At the fourth day without any communication, Molly began to look a little worried, but brushed off Logan’s concerned inquiries, saying only that if something had happened to Rebel, she would know. The next day she had taken to not only bringing her phone with her everywhere in the house, which she had been doing since the beginning, but had begun checking it almost compulsively, every few minutes.
On the sixth day, she planted herself on the couch that faced the window and refused to move Logan kept walking in on her staring with an enviable focus at absolutely nothing, an atlas open in her lap, to a different page each time. It was, Logan thought, far creepier than being overtly polite.
Only once did Logan ask, somewhat tentatively, what she was doing. “I think there’s something wrong,” she had replied faintly. “It’s not-I don’t think it’s working right.”
“What’s not working right,” Logan asked carefully.
Molly frowned at the atlas. “He’s moving too fast, too far,” she muttered to herself in leu of answering. Logan waited for a moment, but when it was clear there wasn’t anything more forthcoming he sighed and wheeled into the kitchen. He came back out with a plate and the intention of forcing her to eat, to find her apparently asleep, her head resting on the backrest and a peaceful expression on her face and the atlas open to what looked like Japan.
As soon as he set the plate on the coffee table, though, she looked up, not asleep at all, but still happier for no reason Logan could fathom. “A contact,” Logan asked. She shook her head.
“I figured it out,” she said, and pointed at the map. “Hero,” she added, for some reason, and smiled brilliantly.
It was the first smile Logan had seen in the last two days. It was heartening, if bewildering.
-END-
Prompt:
Fandoms: Heroes/Dark Angel Pairing: Micah Sanders, Molly, Max and Original Cindy, with some Logan Cale and possibly Alec McDowell on the side.
Author: shortestgiraffe
Fandoms: Dark Angel/Heroes
Characters Rebel(Micah), Molly; Logan, Max
Pairings: Hints of Micah/Molly and canon level Logan/Max
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1916
Spoilers: Through Heroes season three episode Cold Snap. General season two for Dark Angel.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Heroes and Dark Angel belong to their respective creators
A/N: Thanks to Scotlandfreak and waterbringer for betaing! Also, this was the fic that wouldn’t end, and if it had gone on as much as it seemed to want to, it would have been finished at twenty thousand words and sometime in 2010, so I had to pick the best reasonable stopping point.
Summary: Rebel asks for a favor. Eyes Only obliges.
"Do not attempt to adjust your set. This is a streaming freedom video bulletin. The cable hack will last exactly sixty seconds. It cannot be traced, it cannot be stopped, and it is the only free voice left in the city.
"Recently it was revealed that there are people who have been altered, made...different. People who can do things others can't.
"They are not alone. There are others, people who were not created, but were born with abilities. People with no more choice in what they can do than we have in what color hair we're born with. And yet not long ago the government implemented a program to hunt down these individuals and lock them up --many of whom have only committed the crime of existing. Being different.
"If you are one of these people, take care. They will not stop, they will not rest, until they have everyone who has an ability, man, woman or child. If you they come for you, there will be warning. Rebel is watching."
Logan paused, partially for dramatic effect, but also to let the timer run out, before reaching a hand out to stop the feed. Only after confirming that the transmission had ended did he let his head drop back, slipping his glasses back on. He waited. It took a moment for the nearest screen to go black, leaving only a blinking white cursor visible in the center.
"So," he said, lifting his head. "How do you think it went?"
It's a start. I'm getting a lot of chatter about it right now through phones throughout the city. They're talking.
You changed the script.
Logan shrugged. "Just a little. I made sure to get the point across, but I had to make it fit in sixty seconds. And I was wary of using the word 'mutant'. Felt like I was in an X-Men story.
Is that a bad thing?
Logan grinned. "Only if you don't mind Rebel and Eyes Only being painted as delusional 12 year olds who read too many comic books."
There's no such thing as too many.
Logan laughed. "If you say so. I can't remember the last time I even saw a comic that wasn't some rare edition on the black market." His smile faded and he grew abruptly serious. "I don't know if many will believe the broadcast regardless of how it was worded. I've been stretching my credibility thin as it is, ever since I started talking about genetic experiments and evil underground organizations. Bringing actual...well, 'mutants' into the picture may be stretching too far for a lot of people."
It's enough. The people who have abilities and know it will at least be aware that they're in danger, and that there are others out there, ones who can help. It'll have to be enough.
"Right. Enough." Logan scrubbed a hand across his face and glanced at the screen. The cursor was still there, blinking innocently. He frowned. This conversation was running long, compared to the others he'd had. Usually Rebel ended them without warning once he felt there wasn't anything more to be said. He only lingered when...
"Was there something else?"
I need a favor.
Logan raised an eyebrow. "I thought I just did you a favor," he noted with more curiosity than irritation.
You did. I need another one. I have a friend who needs a place to stay.
"Another underground railroad refugee? Why ask me, usually you contact one of Asha's people for those."
This one is different. She's spec
Logan watched in bemusement as the cursor seemed to hesitate before, for the first time since Rebel had first contacted him, going backwards and deleting the last few letters.
Important.
"Important," Logan repeated. He thought this over. "Not a runner, another refugee. A partner. Another rebel."
There was no answer, though the cursor somehow managed to blink expectantly. Logan tapped his fingers thoughtfully.
This had never happened before. Rebel, when not all business, had come across as...friendly, certainly, but they had kept all information concerning their respective causes on a need to know basis only (though from his technical prowess, Logan suspected Rebel knew a lot more about Eyes Only than he let on). Apart from the basic situation, Rebel had never volunteered anything specific about his own work, or even hinted that he worked with anyone. Logan had gotten the impression that he'd already lost at least one person to the cause and it had made him cautious. Important was probably an understatement.
"When can I expect her to arrive?"
"About fifteen seconds ago," came a cheerful voice behind him. Logan jumped in spite of himself and spun the chair around. In the doorway stood a young girl, perhaps thirteen or fourteen if you were feeling generous.
"Uh," Logan said, caught off guard briefly. He glanced backwards, and saw that the nearest screen now only showed a blank text file, saved to the desktop as simply :).
If Logan were to check, he knew from experience, there would be no record of any sort of communications. "Hi?" Logan blinked and shook himself. He turned back to the door wheeled the chair forward. "I mean, hi. I'm Logan, Logan Cale. I understand we have a mutual friend." He hesitated, then held out a hand to shake. She smiled and took it.
"I'm Molly. It's nice to meet you, finally, Mr. Cale. You and Eyes Only have been a big help with everything."
Logan returned her smile. "Rebel's been an invaluable help himself," he said, and meant it. Rebel had hacked his way into systems Logan would have never considered worth the risk and left Eyes Only a trail to follow impossible to find unless you knew where to look. "Half of my broadcasts in the past few months have been because of him. And Logan is fine," he added absently, taking a moment to process. Molly --young girl somehow related to the leader of a (possibly one-man) underground movement--daughter, perhaps? Niece?
He glanced up and found her looking at him expectantly. He quickly shook away the thoughts--it could be considered bad form to start investigating your fellow anonymous activists. "Right. So, you need a place to stay."
---
"Just for a few days," Logan said, not looking up from the pot. "They were getting to close to Rebel, apparently, and they just need to scatter and disappear for a little while."
"Hadn't heard you were opening a hotel," Max said from her seat on the bar at the other side of the kitchen. Logan chuckled.
"The S1W and I have been helping Rebel's people hide in the city since he first proved he was the real deal. This is pretty much the same thing."
"Except you haven't let any of Rebel's other people crash at your place before," Max pointed out.
“Rebel has never asked me personally act as host before,” Logan replied. “I think Molly is really important to him, his daughter, maybe.” His stirring slowed as a thought struck him and he glanced up. ”Are you… not okay with this?”
Max blinked, caught off guard, then quickly straightened, crossing her arms in front of her defensively. ”No, no I--it‘s just, you‘ve already got a target on your back with the Manticore leftovers after you, not to mention half the city government and whoever else Eyes Only has managed to royally piss off over the years. Hiding his daughter or whatever from some government freak-hunters is kinda much, especially considering the company you keep already--”
"Daughter?"
Max whirled around. In the doorway again stood Molly, watching Max speculatively, and really, she needed a bell around her neck or something, Logan thought, turning off the stove. "Molly. You woke up just in time," he said casually, trying ask tell with Max with his eyes to please not to remind the little girl of the many dangerous people hunting her down at this very moment. She didn't get the message, as she was staring oddly wide-eyed at the doorway. "Molly," she repeated, faintly.
Logan suddenly came to a realization and, with no small measure of amusement asked, "Did, uh, did I not mention that Molly is twelve?"
"No, no you didn't," Max said, sounding as though she was trying to sound cross but couldn't quite manage it. Molly looked from one to the other curiously. Max suddenly seemed to remember herself and let her arms drop. She leaned against the counter, this time trying for casual, and said quickly, "Not that it matters, of course."
"Of course," Logan agreed, turning to both grab the stew and hide his smile. "So, Molly, you said you liked beef stew, right?"
--
Six days later, Molly was still living in the Cale household, and remained very tight-mouthed about anything concerning Rebel and his operation, no matter how casually Logan phrased the questions in his own desire to satisfy his curiosity, including her connection to Rebel, or whether she had an ability herself (very likely, Logan had decided, since he had determined early on that the two weren‘t actually related, based on her stifled amusement whenever it was brought up, and he couldn‘t think of another reason anyone would involve a kid in an underground resistance movement).
She was utterly polite and respectful, almost creepily so, as Max had declared early on. She had some brainwashing theories that she claimed were drawn from experience. Logan just assumed Molly was used to moving around a lot and staying with new people. Not to mention she clearly hadn’t been planning on staying very long.
At the fourth day without any communication, Molly began to look a little worried, but brushed off Logan’s concerned inquiries, saying only that if something had happened to Rebel, she would know. The next day she had taken to not only bringing her phone with her everywhere in the house, which she had been doing since the beginning, but had begun checking it almost compulsively, every few minutes.
On the sixth day, she planted herself on the couch that faced the window and refused to move Logan kept walking in on her staring with an enviable focus at absolutely nothing, an atlas open in her lap, to a different page each time. It was, Logan thought, far creepier than being overtly polite.
Only once did Logan ask, somewhat tentatively, what she was doing. “I think there’s something wrong,” she had replied faintly. “It’s not-I don’t think it’s working right.”
“What’s not working right,” Logan asked carefully.
Molly frowned at the atlas. “He’s moving too fast, too far,” she muttered to herself in leu of answering. Logan waited for a moment, but when it was clear there wasn’t anything more forthcoming he sighed and wheeled into the kitchen. He came back out with a plate and the intention of forcing her to eat, to find her apparently asleep, her head resting on the backrest and a peaceful expression on her face and the atlas open to what looked like Japan.
As soon as he set the plate on the coffee table, though, she looked up, not asleep at all, but still happier for no reason Logan could fathom. “A contact,” Logan asked. She shook her head.
“I figured it out,” she said, and pointed at the map. “Hero,” she added, for some reason, and smiled brilliantly.
It was the first smile Logan had seen in the last two days. It was heartening, if bewildering.
-END-
Prompt:
Fandoms: Heroes/Dark Angel Pairing: Micah Sanders, Molly, Max and Original Cindy, with some Logan Cale and possibly Alec McDowell on the side.