Fic: Resistance is Futile (Claude/Adam) 1/9
I'm finally going to begin posting this. I'm still working through the third draft, but I'm having attacks of insecurity already and need other people's opinions. I'll be posting to the coms later, cause right now my eyes hurt since I can't figure out how to lower the brightness in my grandfather's computer. Consider it a sneak peek. ;)
Title; Resistance is Futile
Pairing; Claude/Adam
Summary: Fifteen years ago, Claude came across someone he shouldn't have in the Company basement. Now, he must face him again.
AN: Dedicated to visiblemarket for demanding suggesting that I write this.
Rating: this part PG; the whole thing NC-17
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own words.
Claude had done some stupid things in his time. All right, a lot of stupid things. So many that if they suddenly manifested, he’d be crushed under their weight. But none of them, not even that time when he’d gotten pissed and streaked through the streets of Dublin, causing quite the scandal at the embassy, had been as bad as this. He’d just had sex. This in itself wasn’t a bad thing. It’d actually been quite enjoyable. Fantastic, even. Maybe some of the best sex of his life. But never mind that. The crux of the matter was who he’d had sex with, which made this whole thing one monumental mistake the size of Hiroshima. Adam rolled over next to him, finding a more comfortable spot on the bed. Adam. The guy who tried to kill every last human being on the planet. Of all the people in the world, Claude had to crawl back into his bed. Brilliant. Just brilliant. There was no getting out of this. He knew this because there never was any “getting out of this” when Adam was around. He could manipulate you with a simple smile, his charm so vicious that you bent to his will without a second thought. Claude learned this firsthand when he’d been too young and foolish to know any better and thought it’d be a laugh to sneak around the Company headquarters, foiling the security cameras with his invisibility.
That’s it. He couldn’t stay here. He’d break into the motel office and steal a key to another room or sleep out on a bench somewhere. He didn’t care. But he wasn’t staying here. Not with him. He got up from the bed, yanked on his clothes so quickly that the zipper of his trousers got stuck and he had to jerk around to free it, and headed for the door. Of course, it was precisely at this moment that Adam decided to open his big mouth.
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t-He turned around, instantly regretting it as he got an eyeful of naked Adam, all rumpled and delightfully bare, his mouth pursed in what might have been a pout if this were some stupid teenage flick. Though it was a rather pretty mouth, he had to admit. Too pretty. Dammit! Why did he have to look around?
“Yes,” he said, forcing the word so much that it ground in his teeth.
“It’s the middle of the night. You’ll be a lot more comfortable here than anywhere else you’ll find to sleep.”
Adam sat up, reclining on his left arm in such an alluring pose that Claude wanted to punch him.
“I can sleep anywhere. I’ve had years of practice. See ya.”
He turned back to the door, towards sane freedom, when Adam spoke again, the rotten bastard.
“Why?”
He could just leave. It wasn’t like he was obligated to answer simply because it was Adam and he’d never been able to say no to him. All he had to do was open the door, walk out, and he’d be safe from Adam’s self-indulgent brainwashing. One, two...
“Because staying with you would be a bad idea.”
Why, why did he have to say that? Why couldn’t he just leave?
“You don’t need to be afraid of me. I don’t bite. Well, not in that sense,” he added, grinning in that arrogant,, “I know you backwards and forwards” way that Claude had only recently noticed and was increasingly growing sick of.
“On the contrary, mate. I think there’s plenty to be afraid of. You’re the bloke who tried to kill every person on the planet.”
“Ah,” Adam uttered, lowering his eyes.
Ah? That’s it? One syllable? The biggest potential mass murderer in existence and that’s all he had to say?
“You know, that was thirty years ago.”
What was that on his face, a sheepish expression? He didn’t honestly expect him to fall for that bollocks, did he?
“Which for you is more like a year. Don’t expect me to think that you’ve actually changed.”
“If you think so negatively of me, why did you have sex with me?”
Oh, there he goes. Changing the subject. Classic strategy to trap him in a lie and make him come off as a hypocrite. Why did he have sex with him? Really? Sure, he’s hot and available and it’s not like Claude gets the chance for a shag all that often (if at all), but it’s Adam, for Christ’s sake. But of course, that’s precisely why. His defenses might have been a little low when he’d bumped into him in the street, shocked and scared and angry all in the same breath. Adam grabbed his arm, refused to let go, and one thing led to another, resulting in the two of them holing themselves up in this cheap motel room fucking each other’s brains out. Not quite what you’re supposed to do with someone who used you for his own ends. Screw it. It was a onetime thing, anyway. That was it. And now it was time to turn the doorknob and walk away from this whole mess forever before it really became a disaster. And he did just that. Well, the doorknob part, anyway.
“You’re not going to answer me?”
He heard the springs of the mattress creak as Adam got up, then the soft padding of his footsteps coming closer, quickly bridging the gap between them, yet Claude still didn’t open the door.
“I don’t have to answer you,” he said, speaking to the door. “I’ve lived for seven years without having to explain myself to anyone and I’m certainly not going to start now.”
The knob rattled against the frame, the metal bolt slamming back.
“Who put that look in your eyes?”
“What?”
He turned around, startled by the random question and nearly stumbled back against the wall as he saw Adam standing less than two feet from him, regarding him with a pensive look no doubt filled with strategic machinations. Claude quickly straightened up, heat rising to his face at such an unseemly display. As if this whole fiasco weren’t embarrassing enough.
“I said,” Adam asked, “Who put that look in your eyes?”
He sounded curious. Of course he was curious. He always was.
“What look?”
“That one. That fear, that distrust of everyone that comes near. You weren’t so cynical before.”
Oh, no. He was not going to use that against him. Claude wouldn’t let him.
“That’s none of your business,” he ground out, pulling the door open.
Adam slammed it shut.
“Who was it?”
Adam’s face was a foot from his now. Claude scrambled back, but since the brilliant architects of this dingy, little motel had decided to place the door at the corner of the room, there wasn’t much place to back up into. One step and his back was pressing against the wall. Not good. Really not good.
“Your partner? Your best friend? Who betrayed you so horribly that you feel the need to run away from everyone else?”
Each of Adam’s words hit the mark right on its head. How did he do that? How did he always know exactly what to say to get you to look him in the eye and lose yourself instead of doing the reasonable thing and fleeing?
“I’m not telling you a sodding thing,” he said, bracing himself against the wall.
Adam lowered his hand from the door and stepped back, trying to appear non-threatening, no doubt. Claude wasn’t buying it.
“All right,” Adam said. “Leave if you want.”
Reverse psychology. Adam didn’t honestly expect that lame trick to work, did he?
“I was just curious,” he added.
“You’re never just curious.”
“Am I not? Fine. I don’t want you to go.”
“I noticed that part. However, I do. So, see ya. Or not.”
He pulled the door open, checking the corridor for people, but it was empty.
“For how long do you expect to run away?”
“I already told you, I’m not running away.”
“Of course you are. That’s all you do now. Run, hide. Make yourself invisible so no one will know you’re there. No one can reach you so no one can hurt you. Always running. Always alone.”
Damn him. Damn him to hell. This was Claude’s life. Adam had no right to even speak of it. He faced him, shooting him a fierce glare.
“Is this the part where you tell me that you know what I’m going through, that you share my feelings?”
Fury bit more than Claude’s usual sarcasm into his words. Adam just looked at him, calm, always so insufferably calm. Like a statue. Unfortunately, there were no pigeons around to show him how Claude really felt.
“I do.”
Claude raised a brow at that.
“You do? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“I caught my best friend kissing the woman I was supposed to marry. He was the one who convinced me to court her in the first place, who told me we were meant for each other. He taught me about my powers, changed my life. He was my friend, my mentor. And he betrayed me.”
Heat rose in Adam’s voice as he spoke, surprising Claude. Adam wasn’t prone to lose his temper. But then again, what did he know?
“That’s it? You got your fur all ruffled because of a snog?”
Adam’s mouth tightened, eyes glittering. Well, that was new. Claude had never seen Adam pissed off before. It was kinda refreshing.
“It wasn’t just a snog,” Adam said slowly.
“Yeah? Well, my friend tried to kill me.”
He hadn’t meant to say that. Not even Peter had learned that much. Adam glanced at Claude’s chest, eyes narrowing, and Claude slipped a foot into the silent corridor. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
“Is that what those bullet scars are?”
Claude’s jaw clenched.
“I’m not answering any more of your questions.”
He left the door open (no dramatic door slamming here, thank you very much) and rushed down the corridor, ignoring the chill already creeping into his bones.
||||
Fifteen years earlier
He wasn’t supposed to be down here. Off limits section. Very closely guarded. But he’d never cared for “supossed”, anyway. A stolen set of keys and his handy invisibility took care of the pesky security measures. After the sudden abduction, the ensuing headaches, and that little double scar on his shoulder that he’d rather not have, the Company owed him a bit more than a job. Therefore,, he decided to explore the clandestine corners where they stashed their most intimate secrets and verfiy their claims for himself. At first, nothing all that interesting made itself know, at least not to him. Perhaps a scientist would have been able to make something of the formulas scrawled on big, wide boards in the endless rows of labs stretching across an entire floor, but math had never been one of his better subjects. He got back in the elevator, then he noticed a keyhole next to the three lower buttons, which were marked by a “B”. Basement. He tried them. Nothing. No problem. Reaching in his pocket, he took out the keychain he’d swiped from that Bob fellow’s pocket and started trying out different keys. The fourth one plunged in and he turned it, pressing the lowest button. The doors opened to a cream colored corridor stretching out before him, the wall broken up at regular intervals by large, glass panes. Maybe they were more labs. He groaned at the thought. He was sick of those things, no less because he woke up in one two days ago with tubes sticking out of his arms and his throat feeling like it’d been scrubbed raw with sandpaper. But they weren’t labs. Behind each window sat an empty room, about the size of a bedroom. Some were bedrooms, complete with uncomfortable looking cots and metal tables with a single chair. Obviously whoever was confined here wasn’t expected to entertain company. The walls weren’t even finished, the mortar peeking through concrete blocks, finished only with a mere slap of white paint. The whole ensemble was quite an inhospitable sight. A prison.
But it wasn’t empty as he’d first though. Almost at the end of the hall, in the penultimate cell, he found a man pacing away in a slow circle. A rather good looking man. Young, maybe early thirties, close cropped blonde hair, slender build, graceful face. He was reading a book. Thick, thin; Claude didn’t notice. It was the man that caught his attention. He should have left then. It would have been better. Or would it? The man didn’t see him, of course. Claude preferred to get a proper look at people before they knew he was in the room. It gave him a better feel for what people were like and how they might react to his particular talent. There weren’t very many who he’d divulged that secret to. All together, they didn’t even take up all the fingers of one hand. But this man wouldn’t freak out on him, surely. If he was here, that meant he was like him. Special, or whatever you want to call it. He preferred “gifted” himself. It had more style. “Special” made him think of a pep talk given to a depressed eight year old. He stood inches from the window, watching the man stroll back and forth for a few minutes. The man flipped a page, his hand lingering at the edge, stroking the paper. Very nice hand, elegant even. He wouldn’t mind feeling its contours with his tongue. But just because they shared one trait didn’t mean that this one matched as well. Claude wondered what his power was. Flying? Telekinesis? Maybe something wild and unpredictable that no comic book had touched yet.
He’d watched for long enough. Time to make an appearance. While the man had his back turned, he materialized, a smile already peeking at his lips. It cracked into a full on grin as the man turned around and jumped, his eyes wide. Claude loved that part. Startling people was one of the best things about being invisible. The man quickly composed himself, adopting an inquiring expression. A pity, that. Claude liked to bask in the moment. Oh, well.
“Who are you?” the man asked, closing his book. “I’ve never seen you here before.”
“No, you haven’t. People often have trouble seeing me. My name’s Claude. Claude Rains.”
The man raised an eyebrow, approaching the window. The room was lower than the corridor Claude stood on, so the man was forced to look up at him.
“Claude Rains? Is that your real name?”
“As good as any.”
Claude straightened his shoulders, smile dwindling a bit. He’d chosen his name soon after discovering his ability and ended up having to field quite a lot of teasing. But he didn’t care. He had his reasons for wishing to remain anonymous.
“In that case, you wouldn’t happen to have the power of invisibility, would you?”
Not fazed for long, was he? Claude concentrated. Not hard (doing it was like flicking a switch), and disappeared from sight. No jumping this time, just narrowed eyes and an appreciative look as the man pressed close to the window, scanning the air for his invisible form.
“Impressive,” he said. “I haven’t seen that one before.”
“You like it? Neat, isn’t it?. It lends itself to all sorts of shady uses.”
“I can certainly think of how it would come in handy.”
Claude turned visible, frowning at him.
“Usually people are more surprised.”
“Well,” the man said with a secretive smile. “I’m not most people.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
The man considered this for a moment.
“I’m Adam,” he said. “Adam Monroe, but the first name is fine.”
Adam. Nice name. Claude had always been quite fond of it for some reason.
“Hello, Adam. Sorry I can’t shake your hand.”
“No, that’s fine. I’m not allowed contact with outsiders. Which includes you. I take it you used your ability to get past security.”
“Yeah. I got curious about what was down here. I don’t really like being cooped up.”
He cut himself off, realizing a moment too late that this might not be the best thing to say to a man who’d been locked up in here for who knew how long.
“Sorry,” he said awkwardly.
Adam shook his head, putting the book down on the table.
“Don’t worry about it. I can’t afford to be sensitive about those things.”
“Why do they have you in here? Is your power that dangerous?”
“Dangerous? No. it’s not dangerous at all. I can heal. Burns, bone breaks, stab wounds, bullets, anything, really. A few seconds later, the wound is gone.”
“Anything? Really? You’re pretty impressive yourself. But why do they have you locked up here, then?”
Adam shrugged. “Research. My blood is very valuable. I don’t just heal myself. My blood can also heal others.”
Now, that was impressive. If it was true. Claude couldn’t exactly see proof of it unless Adam cut himself, and he couldn’t ask him to do that. The research bit sounded credible enough. He wouldn’t put it past these people to keep a man just for his blood. They’d seized him in a car park, or at least that was the last thing he remembered before waking up naked on a metal table surrounded by men in white coats. Hardly your typical employee recruitment technique.
“How long have you been in here?” Claude asked.
“A long time.”
Adam crossed his arms, lowering his eyes.
“Very long time. It’s been a while since I last spoke to anyone besides Bob.”
“It must be lonely.”
“Yes. It is. But I’m used to being alone.”
Claude glanced at the door. It was secured with a keypad lock, needing a special code to open it. His card wouldn’t do. Not that it’d be very wise to enter the cell of a man he’d just met when he wasn’t certain of his power. Adam could be lying. Healing was easy enough to say. What if it was something else, something that could flay his skin off with a thought?
Adam apparently noticed him peering at the door, because he said, “Would you like to come in?” as if he were inviting him in for tea.
“It’s locked,” Claude said, stating the obvious, but he didn’t want to compromise himself one way or the other.
“I know the code.”
Now that made no sense.
“How would you know the code? It’s not like they would tell you.”
“No. it was only by chance that I learned it. The door is always kept locked for security reasons, even when they take me out for experiments.”
Claude didn’t like the way he said “experiments” as if it were a euphemism for something much uglier. He tried not to contemplate what kind of research they’d conduct on a man who could heal from anything.
“Usually they blindfold me when they bring me back so that I don’t see the numbers they’re punching in. But one time, they forgot the blindfold. One of the guards put his hand over my eyes, holding me away from the door, but he wasn’t being very attentive, because I could see between his fingers. It was pure luck. It didn’t do me any good, though. I can’t use the code from in here. But I can tell you what it is. You could come inside. Keep me company.”
His smile almost begged Claude to join him, a light in his eyes alluding to that which Claude had barely dared hope might be reciprocated. Maybe he was imagining it. He’d done so before. But the soft tilt in his voice was as clear as the inviting lean of his body. Still, Claude couldn’t be locking himself up with a man he’d known for less than five minutes without any sort of guarantee. Adam could be anyone. Even with Claude’s invisibility, there was barely any space to hide in that small room should he have to. Talking out here was one thing, but going inside... But he wanted to. This stranger fascinated him. And there were so many things they could do other than talk.
“You’re uncertain,” Adam said.
“Maybe a bit. I don’t know you.”
“And I’m an inmate in a facility that houses a fair number of dangerous people. I understand. I could tell you that I’m not a serial killer, but you’ll have to take my word for it. I can do this, though.”
He crouched beside the bed and felt around the bottom with his right hand.
“There’s a sharp edge down here,” he said.
Sharp edge? He wasn’t going to cut himself, was he?
“You don’t have to do that,” Claude called out, but it was too late.
Adam grunted, drawing out his arm, and Claude saw crimson streaking down his pale skin. It dripped on the floor as Adam went back towards Claude, holding it out in front of him so he wouldn’t stain his clothes and Claude winced upon seeing a long gash cut from wrist to elbow, his flesh ripped open.
“It’s okay,” Adam said
Claude almost protested how ridiculous that sounded. But Adam’s power was healing, right? Then he saw it, or at least he thought he saw it. The whole thin happened in a blur, from one second to the next. Skin glued itself back together, uniting itself into a seamless whole as if were the only natural thing for it to do, and soon there was just blood and nothing else. Adam’s wiped it away so Claude could see his arm, whole, unbroken. If he hadn’t seen Adam cut himself, he would have no way of knowing that it was ever there at all.
“How did-“
The words escaped his mouth without a thought,, and he realized that he was gaping, wide eyed like a child. He covered up with a grin, feeling sheepish upon seeing the laughter in Adam’s eyes.
“What’s the code?”
||||
Present
An hour later or thereabouts (his watch had decided to die on him to top off this dismal day), he was back at the door, fist raised an inch from the wooden surface. He hesitated. He shouldn’t be here. He’d told himself to go someplace else, anywhere, but he tried that and it didn’t work. He went to the motel office, but it was closed and he couldn’t break the lock without setting off the alarm. So he went out into the street and walked around for a bit, but considering that it was freezing what with it being in the lower 20s and all, his limbs stiffened against his body within minutes, making the prospect of actually lying down on the hard, filthy ground excruciating. So he had no choice. He had to go back. He knocked once, withdrawing his hand so quickly that the silence swallowed up the sound. A minute passed by. Nothing. He knocked again, making sure to make it loud this time. He wasn’t going to stand here the rest of the night begging to be let in. Thankfully, the door opened, showing a boxer-clad Adam, who didn’t seem at all surprised to see him. Bastard.
“I thought you weren’t staying,” he said, cocky as ever.
Claude pushed past him, ignoring the fresh scent of soap emanating from his bare skin and took off his jacket and shoes.
“I came back to sleep. I’m freezing my ass off out there, so this is my only option. That’s all. It doesn’t have anything to do with what you said.”
“Okay.”
What? No gloating, no “I knew you’d come back” nonsense? Fine. It made Claude’s life easier. He pulled back the rumpled covers and plopped down on the bed, turning on his left side to face the window. The mattress dipped as Adam got in next to him, but he didn’t look, closing his eyes to burrow his face further into the pillow. More surprising still, Adam didn’t touch him, didn’t make any sort of overture whatsoever to get his attention, staying on his side of the bed. Better for him.
Part Two
Title; Resistance is Futile
Pairing; Claude/Adam
Summary: Fifteen years ago, Claude came across someone he shouldn't have in the Company basement. Now, he must face him again.
AN: Dedicated to visiblemarket for demanding suggesting that I write this.
Rating: this part PG; the whole thing NC-17
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own words.
Claude had done some stupid things in his time. All right, a lot of stupid things. So many that if they suddenly manifested, he’d be crushed under their weight. But none of them, not even that time when he’d gotten pissed and streaked through the streets of Dublin, causing quite the scandal at the embassy, had been as bad as this. He’d just had sex. This in itself wasn’t a bad thing. It’d actually been quite enjoyable. Fantastic, even. Maybe some of the best sex of his life. But never mind that. The crux of the matter was who he’d had sex with, which made this whole thing one monumental mistake the size of Hiroshima. Adam rolled over next to him, finding a more comfortable spot on the bed. Adam. The guy who tried to kill every last human being on the planet. Of all the people in the world, Claude had to crawl back into his bed. Brilliant. Just brilliant. There was no getting out of this. He knew this because there never was any “getting out of this” when Adam was around. He could manipulate you with a simple smile, his charm so vicious that you bent to his will without a second thought. Claude learned this firsthand when he’d been too young and foolish to know any better and thought it’d be a laugh to sneak around the Company headquarters, foiling the security cameras with his invisibility.
That’s it. He couldn’t stay here. He’d break into the motel office and steal a key to another room or sleep out on a bench somewhere. He didn’t care. But he wasn’t staying here. Not with him. He got up from the bed, yanked on his clothes so quickly that the zipper of his trousers got stuck and he had to jerk around to free it, and headed for the door. Of course, it was precisely at this moment that Adam decided to open his big mouth.
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t-He turned around, instantly regretting it as he got an eyeful of naked Adam, all rumpled and delightfully bare, his mouth pursed in what might have been a pout if this were some stupid teenage flick. Though it was a rather pretty mouth, he had to admit. Too pretty. Dammit! Why did he have to look around?
“Yes,” he said, forcing the word so much that it ground in his teeth.
“It’s the middle of the night. You’ll be a lot more comfortable here than anywhere else you’ll find to sleep.”
Adam sat up, reclining on his left arm in such an alluring pose that Claude wanted to punch him.
“I can sleep anywhere. I’ve had years of practice. See ya.”
He turned back to the door, towards sane freedom, when Adam spoke again, the rotten bastard.
“Why?”
He could just leave. It wasn’t like he was obligated to answer simply because it was Adam and he’d never been able to say no to him. All he had to do was open the door, walk out, and he’d be safe from Adam’s self-indulgent brainwashing. One, two...
“Because staying with you would be a bad idea.”
Why, why did he have to say that? Why couldn’t he just leave?
“You don’t need to be afraid of me. I don’t bite. Well, not in that sense,” he added, grinning in that arrogant,, “I know you backwards and forwards” way that Claude had only recently noticed and was increasingly growing sick of.
“On the contrary, mate. I think there’s plenty to be afraid of. You’re the bloke who tried to kill every person on the planet.”
“Ah,” Adam uttered, lowering his eyes.
Ah? That’s it? One syllable? The biggest potential mass murderer in existence and that’s all he had to say?
“You know, that was thirty years ago.”
What was that on his face, a sheepish expression? He didn’t honestly expect him to fall for that bollocks, did he?
“Which for you is more like a year. Don’t expect me to think that you’ve actually changed.”
“If you think so negatively of me, why did you have sex with me?”
Oh, there he goes. Changing the subject. Classic strategy to trap him in a lie and make him come off as a hypocrite. Why did he have sex with him? Really? Sure, he’s hot and available and it’s not like Claude gets the chance for a shag all that often (if at all), but it’s Adam, for Christ’s sake. But of course, that’s precisely why. His defenses might have been a little low when he’d bumped into him in the street, shocked and scared and angry all in the same breath. Adam grabbed his arm, refused to let go, and one thing led to another, resulting in the two of them holing themselves up in this cheap motel room fucking each other’s brains out. Not quite what you’re supposed to do with someone who used you for his own ends. Screw it. It was a onetime thing, anyway. That was it. And now it was time to turn the doorknob and walk away from this whole mess forever before it really became a disaster. And he did just that. Well, the doorknob part, anyway.
“You’re not going to answer me?”
He heard the springs of the mattress creak as Adam got up, then the soft padding of his footsteps coming closer, quickly bridging the gap between them, yet Claude still didn’t open the door.
“I don’t have to answer you,” he said, speaking to the door. “I’ve lived for seven years without having to explain myself to anyone and I’m certainly not going to start now.”
The knob rattled against the frame, the metal bolt slamming back.
“Who put that look in your eyes?”
“What?”
He turned around, startled by the random question and nearly stumbled back against the wall as he saw Adam standing less than two feet from him, regarding him with a pensive look no doubt filled with strategic machinations. Claude quickly straightened up, heat rising to his face at such an unseemly display. As if this whole fiasco weren’t embarrassing enough.
“I said,” Adam asked, “Who put that look in your eyes?”
He sounded curious. Of course he was curious. He always was.
“What look?”
“That one. That fear, that distrust of everyone that comes near. You weren’t so cynical before.”
Oh, no. He was not going to use that against him. Claude wouldn’t let him.
“That’s none of your business,” he ground out, pulling the door open.
Adam slammed it shut.
“Who was it?”
Adam’s face was a foot from his now. Claude scrambled back, but since the brilliant architects of this dingy, little motel had decided to place the door at the corner of the room, there wasn’t much place to back up into. One step and his back was pressing against the wall. Not good. Really not good.
“Your partner? Your best friend? Who betrayed you so horribly that you feel the need to run away from everyone else?”
Each of Adam’s words hit the mark right on its head. How did he do that? How did he always know exactly what to say to get you to look him in the eye and lose yourself instead of doing the reasonable thing and fleeing?
“I’m not telling you a sodding thing,” he said, bracing himself against the wall.
Adam lowered his hand from the door and stepped back, trying to appear non-threatening, no doubt. Claude wasn’t buying it.
“All right,” Adam said. “Leave if you want.”
Reverse psychology. Adam didn’t honestly expect that lame trick to work, did he?
“I was just curious,” he added.
“You’re never just curious.”
“Am I not? Fine. I don’t want you to go.”
“I noticed that part. However, I do. So, see ya. Or not.”
He pulled the door open, checking the corridor for people, but it was empty.
“For how long do you expect to run away?”
“I already told you, I’m not running away.”
“Of course you are. That’s all you do now. Run, hide. Make yourself invisible so no one will know you’re there. No one can reach you so no one can hurt you. Always running. Always alone.”
Damn him. Damn him to hell. This was Claude’s life. Adam had no right to even speak of it. He faced him, shooting him a fierce glare.
“Is this the part where you tell me that you know what I’m going through, that you share my feelings?”
Fury bit more than Claude’s usual sarcasm into his words. Adam just looked at him, calm, always so insufferably calm. Like a statue. Unfortunately, there were no pigeons around to show him how Claude really felt.
“I do.”
Claude raised a brow at that.
“You do? Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“I caught my best friend kissing the woman I was supposed to marry. He was the one who convinced me to court her in the first place, who told me we were meant for each other. He taught me about my powers, changed my life. He was my friend, my mentor. And he betrayed me.”
Heat rose in Adam’s voice as he spoke, surprising Claude. Adam wasn’t prone to lose his temper. But then again, what did he know?
“That’s it? You got your fur all ruffled because of a snog?”
Adam’s mouth tightened, eyes glittering. Well, that was new. Claude had never seen Adam pissed off before. It was kinda refreshing.
“It wasn’t just a snog,” Adam said slowly.
“Yeah? Well, my friend tried to kill me.”
He hadn’t meant to say that. Not even Peter had learned that much. Adam glanced at Claude’s chest, eyes narrowing, and Claude slipped a foot into the silent corridor. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
“Is that what those bullet scars are?”
Claude’s jaw clenched.
“I’m not answering any more of your questions.”
He left the door open (no dramatic door slamming here, thank you very much) and rushed down the corridor, ignoring the chill already creeping into his bones.
||||
Fifteen years earlier
He wasn’t supposed to be down here. Off limits section. Very closely guarded. But he’d never cared for “supossed”, anyway. A stolen set of keys and his handy invisibility took care of the pesky security measures. After the sudden abduction, the ensuing headaches, and that little double scar on his shoulder that he’d rather not have, the Company owed him a bit more than a job. Therefore,, he decided to explore the clandestine corners where they stashed their most intimate secrets and verfiy their claims for himself. At first, nothing all that interesting made itself know, at least not to him. Perhaps a scientist would have been able to make something of the formulas scrawled on big, wide boards in the endless rows of labs stretching across an entire floor, but math had never been one of his better subjects. He got back in the elevator, then he noticed a keyhole next to the three lower buttons, which were marked by a “B”. Basement. He tried them. Nothing. No problem. Reaching in his pocket, he took out the keychain he’d swiped from that Bob fellow’s pocket and started trying out different keys. The fourth one plunged in and he turned it, pressing the lowest button. The doors opened to a cream colored corridor stretching out before him, the wall broken up at regular intervals by large, glass panes. Maybe they were more labs. He groaned at the thought. He was sick of those things, no less because he woke up in one two days ago with tubes sticking out of his arms and his throat feeling like it’d been scrubbed raw with sandpaper. But they weren’t labs. Behind each window sat an empty room, about the size of a bedroom. Some were bedrooms, complete with uncomfortable looking cots and metal tables with a single chair. Obviously whoever was confined here wasn’t expected to entertain company. The walls weren’t even finished, the mortar peeking through concrete blocks, finished only with a mere slap of white paint. The whole ensemble was quite an inhospitable sight. A prison.
But it wasn’t empty as he’d first though. Almost at the end of the hall, in the penultimate cell, he found a man pacing away in a slow circle. A rather good looking man. Young, maybe early thirties, close cropped blonde hair, slender build, graceful face. He was reading a book. Thick, thin; Claude didn’t notice. It was the man that caught his attention. He should have left then. It would have been better. Or would it? The man didn’t see him, of course. Claude preferred to get a proper look at people before they knew he was in the room. It gave him a better feel for what people were like and how they might react to his particular talent. There weren’t very many who he’d divulged that secret to. All together, they didn’t even take up all the fingers of one hand. But this man wouldn’t freak out on him, surely. If he was here, that meant he was like him. Special, or whatever you want to call it. He preferred “gifted” himself. It had more style. “Special” made him think of a pep talk given to a depressed eight year old. He stood inches from the window, watching the man stroll back and forth for a few minutes. The man flipped a page, his hand lingering at the edge, stroking the paper. Very nice hand, elegant even. He wouldn’t mind feeling its contours with his tongue. But just because they shared one trait didn’t mean that this one matched as well. Claude wondered what his power was. Flying? Telekinesis? Maybe something wild and unpredictable that no comic book had touched yet.
He’d watched for long enough. Time to make an appearance. While the man had his back turned, he materialized, a smile already peeking at his lips. It cracked into a full on grin as the man turned around and jumped, his eyes wide. Claude loved that part. Startling people was one of the best things about being invisible. The man quickly composed himself, adopting an inquiring expression. A pity, that. Claude liked to bask in the moment. Oh, well.
“Who are you?” the man asked, closing his book. “I’ve never seen you here before.”
“No, you haven’t. People often have trouble seeing me. My name’s Claude. Claude Rains.”
The man raised an eyebrow, approaching the window. The room was lower than the corridor Claude stood on, so the man was forced to look up at him.
“Claude Rains? Is that your real name?”
“As good as any.”
Claude straightened his shoulders, smile dwindling a bit. He’d chosen his name soon after discovering his ability and ended up having to field quite a lot of teasing. But he didn’t care. He had his reasons for wishing to remain anonymous.
“In that case, you wouldn’t happen to have the power of invisibility, would you?”
Not fazed for long, was he? Claude concentrated. Not hard (doing it was like flicking a switch), and disappeared from sight. No jumping this time, just narrowed eyes and an appreciative look as the man pressed close to the window, scanning the air for his invisible form.
“Impressive,” he said. “I haven’t seen that one before.”
“You like it? Neat, isn’t it?. It lends itself to all sorts of shady uses.”
“I can certainly think of how it would come in handy.”
Claude turned visible, frowning at him.
“Usually people are more surprised.”
“Well,” the man said with a secretive smile. “I’m not most people.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
The man considered this for a moment.
“I’m Adam,” he said. “Adam Monroe, but the first name is fine.”
Adam. Nice name. Claude had always been quite fond of it for some reason.
“Hello, Adam. Sorry I can’t shake your hand.”
“No, that’s fine. I’m not allowed contact with outsiders. Which includes you. I take it you used your ability to get past security.”
“Yeah. I got curious about what was down here. I don’t really like being cooped up.”
He cut himself off, realizing a moment too late that this might not be the best thing to say to a man who’d been locked up in here for who knew how long.
“Sorry,” he said awkwardly.
Adam shook his head, putting the book down on the table.
“Don’t worry about it. I can’t afford to be sensitive about those things.”
“Why do they have you in here? Is your power that dangerous?”
“Dangerous? No. it’s not dangerous at all. I can heal. Burns, bone breaks, stab wounds, bullets, anything, really. A few seconds later, the wound is gone.”
“Anything? Really? You’re pretty impressive yourself. But why do they have you locked up here, then?”
Adam shrugged. “Research. My blood is very valuable. I don’t just heal myself. My blood can also heal others.”
Now, that was impressive. If it was true. Claude couldn’t exactly see proof of it unless Adam cut himself, and he couldn’t ask him to do that. The research bit sounded credible enough. He wouldn’t put it past these people to keep a man just for his blood. They’d seized him in a car park, or at least that was the last thing he remembered before waking up naked on a metal table surrounded by men in white coats. Hardly your typical employee recruitment technique.
“How long have you been in here?” Claude asked.
“A long time.”
Adam crossed his arms, lowering his eyes.
“Very long time. It’s been a while since I last spoke to anyone besides Bob.”
“It must be lonely.”
“Yes. It is. But I’m used to being alone.”
Claude glanced at the door. It was secured with a keypad lock, needing a special code to open it. His card wouldn’t do. Not that it’d be very wise to enter the cell of a man he’d just met when he wasn’t certain of his power. Adam could be lying. Healing was easy enough to say. What if it was something else, something that could flay his skin off with a thought?
Adam apparently noticed him peering at the door, because he said, “Would you like to come in?” as if he were inviting him in for tea.
“It’s locked,” Claude said, stating the obvious, but he didn’t want to compromise himself one way or the other.
“I know the code.”
Now that made no sense.
“How would you know the code? It’s not like they would tell you.”
“No. it was only by chance that I learned it. The door is always kept locked for security reasons, even when they take me out for experiments.”
Claude didn’t like the way he said “experiments” as if it were a euphemism for something much uglier. He tried not to contemplate what kind of research they’d conduct on a man who could heal from anything.
“Usually they blindfold me when they bring me back so that I don’t see the numbers they’re punching in. But one time, they forgot the blindfold. One of the guards put his hand over my eyes, holding me away from the door, but he wasn’t being very attentive, because I could see between his fingers. It was pure luck. It didn’t do me any good, though. I can’t use the code from in here. But I can tell you what it is. You could come inside. Keep me company.”
His smile almost begged Claude to join him, a light in his eyes alluding to that which Claude had barely dared hope might be reciprocated. Maybe he was imagining it. He’d done so before. But the soft tilt in his voice was as clear as the inviting lean of his body. Still, Claude couldn’t be locking himself up with a man he’d known for less than five minutes without any sort of guarantee. Adam could be anyone. Even with Claude’s invisibility, there was barely any space to hide in that small room should he have to. Talking out here was one thing, but going inside... But he wanted to. This stranger fascinated him. And there were so many things they could do other than talk.
“You’re uncertain,” Adam said.
“Maybe a bit. I don’t know you.”
“And I’m an inmate in a facility that houses a fair number of dangerous people. I understand. I could tell you that I’m not a serial killer, but you’ll have to take my word for it. I can do this, though.”
He crouched beside the bed and felt around the bottom with his right hand.
“There’s a sharp edge down here,” he said.
Sharp edge? He wasn’t going to cut himself, was he?
“You don’t have to do that,” Claude called out, but it was too late.
Adam grunted, drawing out his arm, and Claude saw crimson streaking down his pale skin. It dripped on the floor as Adam went back towards Claude, holding it out in front of him so he wouldn’t stain his clothes and Claude winced upon seeing a long gash cut from wrist to elbow, his flesh ripped open.
“It’s okay,” Adam said
Claude almost protested how ridiculous that sounded. But Adam’s power was healing, right? Then he saw it, or at least he thought he saw it. The whole thin happened in a blur, from one second to the next. Skin glued itself back together, uniting itself into a seamless whole as if were the only natural thing for it to do, and soon there was just blood and nothing else. Adam’s wiped it away so Claude could see his arm, whole, unbroken. If he hadn’t seen Adam cut himself, he would have no way of knowing that it was ever there at all.
“How did-“
The words escaped his mouth without a thought,, and he realized that he was gaping, wide eyed like a child. He covered up with a grin, feeling sheepish upon seeing the laughter in Adam’s eyes.
“What’s the code?”
||||
Present
An hour later or thereabouts (his watch had decided to die on him to top off this dismal day), he was back at the door, fist raised an inch from the wooden surface. He hesitated. He shouldn’t be here. He’d told himself to go someplace else, anywhere, but he tried that and it didn’t work. He went to the motel office, but it was closed and he couldn’t break the lock without setting off the alarm. So he went out into the street and walked around for a bit, but considering that it was freezing what with it being in the lower 20s and all, his limbs stiffened against his body within minutes, making the prospect of actually lying down on the hard, filthy ground excruciating. So he had no choice. He had to go back. He knocked once, withdrawing his hand so quickly that the silence swallowed up the sound. A minute passed by. Nothing. He knocked again, making sure to make it loud this time. He wasn’t going to stand here the rest of the night begging to be let in. Thankfully, the door opened, showing a boxer-clad Adam, who didn’t seem at all surprised to see him. Bastard.
“I thought you weren’t staying,” he said, cocky as ever.
Claude pushed past him, ignoring the fresh scent of soap emanating from his bare skin and took off his jacket and shoes.
“I came back to sleep. I’m freezing my ass off out there, so this is my only option. That’s all. It doesn’t have anything to do with what you said.”
“Okay.”
What? No gloating, no “I knew you’d come back” nonsense? Fine. It made Claude’s life easier. He pulled back the rumpled covers and plopped down on the bed, turning on his left side to face the window. The mattress dipped as Adam got in next to him, but he didn’t look, closing his eyes to burrow his face further into the pillow. More surprising still, Adam didn’t touch him, didn’t make any sort of overture whatsoever to get his attention, staying on his side of the bed. Better for him.
Part Two