Legends - DA fic - R

[tigriswolf]

Title: Legends
Fandom: "Dark Angel"
Disclaimer: I only own those I created, not the ones I didn't.  Just for fun.
Warnings: spoilers for the entire series; slash.
Pairings: Alec/OMC; Bullet/Ralph; mentions of Alec/Rachel and Max/Logan
Rating: R
Worcount: 2610
Point of view: third
Notes: I use the concept of "Highlander" for part of the plot.

“What the hell are you?”

“Better.”

– The Mangler and Alec, “Proof of Purchase”

-

Ben wasn’t the only storyteller of the transgenics; he was just immortalized as the best. There were others who, on the dark, bloody, dream-filled nights, spun webs of happiness and princes and endings that weren’t full of death.

Every transgenic heard of the 09’s, the renegades. Some envied them, some hated them, some even feared them—and their twins were shunned. But it wasn’t until stories circulated of the killer, the psychopath, that X5-494 truly realized what Ben had cost him.

After Max destroyed the Seattle branch of Manticore, other facilities also had rebellions. The soldiers realized they didn’t have to follow orders, to be mindless slaves. Twenty years later, after the standoff in Seattle, after the world had realized ‘freaks’ walked among them, after humans realized they could live peacefully side-by-side, Manticore was truly destroyed.

Legends circulated about Max and her siblings, those first to succeed at an escape. Legends of the leader, Zack; of the killer, Ben; and of Max, the one who finally showed the transgenics how to live. Fairy tales were written of her star-crossed love with a human, Logan, Eyes Only who spoke the truth to a broken city, gave them hope when they were ready to give up. And Original Cindy, one of the first humans to befriend a ‘freak’, who helped her and loved her and covered for her.

Yes, Zack who sacrificed himself, and Ben who lost it, and all the others were immortalized, but it was Max who was beloved, Max who songs were written about, Max who was the hero—

Bugler and Bullet and Ralph and Fixit and Zero told every transgenic they came across about the two who helped them, who saved them. Max was an open and shut case; everyone knew about X5-452. But the other, Alec—he stirred the imagination.

And at night, as they longed for the security and safety of Manticore, Ralph would spin stories about their rescuers, write whole novels for them on the frigid air. And Fixit remembered perfectly every word she said, wrote them down later, shared them after everything happened and Max was a national hero. Remembered perfectly how Max willingly threw herself into the rescue and saved them, how Max gave them their names—but, she admitted to herself at night, it was Alec who treated them as equals. Alec wasn’t a hypocrite, telling them they no longer had any superior officers and then yelling at Zero about mouthing off. Alec didn’t let Max command him or respond to her attempts to demean him—he knew exactly who and what he was.

Each of them, Ralph and Fixit and Bullet and Zero and Bugler, fell a little in love with Alec, with his ne’er-do-well attitude and his surety, with his humor and reluctant heroism. Max demanded respect without ever truly earning it—but Alec…

“Tell it again,” Bugler begged, even twenty years later, all grown up and a man. “Tell about Alec walking into the barn.”

And so Ralph did, painting for them the image of the reluctant hero slipping into their lives, only because they’d screwed up and made life hard for him. She spoke, in riveting tones, about what he’d said, explaining for them the score.

“What part of ‘they’re trying to kill you’ didn’t you understand?” she mimicked perfectly, to laughter and smiles of the audience, transgenics and humans and the half-breed children of each.

Max was the hero of the story, and they all knew it. Max and Zack and the rest, the 09’s were the ones who paved the way. But, honestly, from a storytelling point of view—they were boring, cut and dry, black and white.

Ralph could tell over and over the story of Alec’s forbidden love of that human, Rachel; of his schemes and scams; of his near betrayal and then redemption. She even had a whole series about Ben, the serial killer, the storyteller who lost his mind somewhere in the wide world.

Alex, Ralph and Bullet’s third child, had a special affection for Alec. He requested every night for a year at age seven tales of his hero and Ralph nearly drove herself mad coming up with new stories.

“He’ll grow out of it,” Bullet reassured her, kissing her forehead.

“We haven’t,” she said, smiling ruefully, “and it’s been over a decade.”

Bullet was asked by Alex to recount Alec keeping him calm while Max cauterized his wound, and Fixit was begged for anything Alec had said, all those hours he spent with them.

“Listen,” Ralph finally told her baby, “this has to stop. Okay, Alex? This obsession—it’s been seven years.”

“I know, Mom,” he said softly. “I know.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just… I have to have a hero, right? Why not him?”

Alex went about pandering to his obsession less obviously. He didn’t ask family or friends for stories anymore. It had been rumored that Alec and Max had finally died; Alex, at age twenty, went to Seattle, to search out the truth.

He learned the history of the cult, of Manticore, of Sandeman and Joshua and all the nomlies. He learned of the original escapees, even tracking down data from before the escape. He had files for each of them, but he was especially interested in Ben. And, honestly, it wasn’t just because he was Alec’s twin.

For each of the 09’s, except for Max and Ben, there was a recorded death, down to the last detail. But Ben was just found in the woods, neck broken, and Max had vanished. Alex memorized novel-length notes, researched over and over, tracked down friends and allies, and learned.

For a full year he followed Ben’s trail, from one city to the next, speaking to the families of the victims. He talked with cops and reporters, with sons and daughters, with spouses and siblings and friends.

Ben, Alex concluded, wasn’t crazy. Not completely over the edge, just—twisted slightly. Pushed a bit too far. He had his reasons, twisted and sick, maybe, but certainly not insane. And Alex understood—the world is a hard place, even for those who’ve lived there their whole lives. For a born-assassin who’s idealized it… well, it’s no wonder Ben snapped.

He wanted to call Mom up, ask her to retell the story of meeting Alec, but didn’t. They thought he was finally over his obsession. They thought he’d gone on a road-trip to find himself, and he knew he’d never bother to tell them otherwise.

Just outside of Seattle—again—he caught Alec’s trail, he thought, and turned west, following intuition to the sea. For days he didn’t sleep, just drove, DNA and blood demanding an answer.

Which would have made no sense if he thought about it, so he didn’t. He just put it down to luck finally smiling at him and kept on driving.

-

“Hey, kid,” a voice called from the night, and Alex looked around, searched out the speaker—there, edge of beach, just barely touching the water.

Alex had waded out and closed his eyes, letting the roar of the waves take him away; there was, most certainly, something primal about the waves, something beautiful. “Yeah?” he called back.

“I’ve heard of killer sharks in these waves. You oughta be more careful.” A teasing note had entered his voice and Alex got an inkling. He turned around, looked close, and saw the twin image of pictures of Ben, of Alec.

He shot up the shore in a heartbeat, getting close, just to be sure—“Alec?” he breathed, and the man smiled.

“I heard a young whippersnapper’s been lookin’ for me. You him?” Alec’s hazel eyes glinted in the moonlight and Alex couldn’t breathe.

“You’re him. Oh, holy fuck, you’re him! You’re here!” Alex reached out and touched his hero’s shoulder, unable to comprehend that he’d found him.

Alec smirked and said, “Yeah I am. Something you wanted to know?”

-

Alec took him to the remnants of Crash. He found a few bottles left in the back and gave them both some beer. Alex smiled and laughed and couldn’t believe it.

He couldn’t tear his eyes off of Alec, Alec who didn’t look a day over thirty. All his questions had flown out of his mind, and he just watched Alec move, just listened to Alec breathe, just inhaled his scent.

“So,” Alec finally said, hopping up on the counter and placing a half-empty bottle beside him, “What’cha want, whippersnapper?”

“Alex,” he replied. “My name is Alex.”

Alec raised an eyebrow. “Alex, eh? I think I’m flattered.”

Alex let his eyes drop, unable to keep Alec’s piercing stare. So far, his hero was everything he’d dreamed of, and more—and yet. Something—and yet.

“Well, Alex,” Alec asked again, drawling the name in such a way Alex shivered, “why did you hunt me down?”

“Do you remember Bullet and Ralph?” he asked in return, studying the bottle in his hand. “From just after Seattle’s Manticore burned down?”

“Oh, dear god,” Alec groaned, taking a long drought of his beer. “Are you one of their kids or something?”

“Yeah,” Alex said softly, picking at the hem of his shirt, wondering if maybe he had expected too much.

“So they made it?” Alec questioned, studying his bottle. “Safe and sound to the wilds of Canada?”

“Yeah,” Alex said again, raising his eyes to Alec. “Mom and Dad married a couple years after. Melanie and Michael were born three years later, then me.”

“Good,” Alec said, bringing his gaze to rest on Alex. “They were cool kids.” A beat of silence and then Alec smirked. “They talked about me? What about Maxie?”

Alex nodded. “They told every transgenic we met. You’re a legend, you know, you and Max and the 09’s. But Max’s story is boring and you’re mostly an unknown, even now.”

“Why haven’t you asked questions yet?” Alec slipped off the bar and padded over to Alex, smirk still across his lips. “You sought me out for a reason, Lexie.”

“How do you still look so young?” It’s not what he meant to ask, but after the words left his mouth, he realized he really wanted to know.

“I died.” Alec stopped in front of Alex and reached out, pulled the beer out of his hands. “A while back. A bullet to the heart’ll kill just about anything, even a fighter born and bred. But guess what, Lexie,” Alec continued, leaning into Alex’s space and whispering into his ear, “After I died, I woke up.”

Alex stared into his hazel eyes and couldn’t think of anything to say. Alec’s smirk melted into a smile and when he spoke, Alex could feel his breath. “And now I can’t seem to die.”

Alex’s heart sped up and sweat beaded on his forehead. Alec was too near, too close, smelled too good, too perfect—Alex leaned forward and Alec pulled back.

“Oh, no, Lexie-boy,” Alec said, laughter and—something threading through the words. “Tell me,” he continued, taking a step further away, huge hazel eyes not leaving Alex, “how is a second generation X-6 different from a first generation X-5?”

Alex smirked now, recognizing Alec’s words for what they were. He straightened, the same height as Alec, a little broader across the shoulders, a little more muscular. Alec’s eyes trailed appreciatively down his body, from the shaggy dark blond hair to his battered boots.

“You know,” Alec said, “it’s almost freaky how much you look like me. Especially those big eyes—a shade lighter and they’d be mine.” His eyes flicked from Alex’s to his mouth, and his lips twisted into a smile. “So, how’re we different, Lexie?”

Alex moved, a lunge too quick to be seen—unless, of course, an X-5 was the one watching. Alec twisted out of the way and grabbed Alex’s wrist, spinning him around and pinning him to the wall. Alex turned his head to look over his shoulder; Alec grinned and leaned forward, placed his chin on Alex’s shoulder. “Not too shabby, whippersnapper,” Alec laughed in his ear. “Much faster than most I’ve seen.”

“Not fast enough,” Alex replied and pushed off the wall, knocking Alec back. By the time he’d spun around, Alec had twisted behind him and grabbed his neck, squeezing lightly.

“Good job, Alexander,” he murmured and wrapped his other arm around Alex’s chest, pulling the younger X back against him. “Now, tell me—why did you seek me out?” Alec’s voice reverberates through Alex’s body and his breath tickles Alex’s ear.

Alex held his breath for a moment, feeling Alec’s heartbeat thudding, loud and sure. “Because of the stories,” he answered softly. “I had to.”

Alec’s lips ghosted across Alex’s neck and he gently turned the boy around. Alex didn’t try to pull or jerk away from Alec’s grip, just stared straight into Alex’s hazel eyes. “You had to find me, Alex? Because of bedtime stories?” the X-5 whispered into Alex’s skin, kissing a trail along Alex’s face, from his forehead to his chin. “Does the reality live up to the fantasy?”

Alex whimpered when Alec pulled away, and instinctively followed him, leaning forward to suck on Alec’s neck. “Yes,” he murmured, kissing his way up to Alec’s mouth. He felt Alec smile and moved in closer.

“Do you know why you had to find me?” Alec asked, whispering into Alex’s mouth and then moving back down to the base of his neck. “Because you can’t die for good either.” Alec’s hands danced their way up from Alex’s hips to his neck, grabbing hold tight—and then nothing.

-

When his eyes opened, Alec was the first thing he saw.

“You killed me,” he accused, too shocked to be angry.

“Yeah, I did,” Alec answered, cocking his head to one side and smiling a gorgeous little boy smile. I’m too cute for your anger, that smile said. C’mon, laugh with me—it’s not that bad.

No one, Alex was willing to bet, could possibly remain immune to that smile. Himself included. So, to his own irritation, he found himself smiling up at the blasted, beautiful bastard.

Alec reached down and offered a hand; Alex took it and sprang to his feet. “You’ll never age,” Alec told him, tracing Alex’s jaw his fingers. “You’ll never grow old, and you’ll awaken from death, good as new. You can hate me, if you wish, can leave now, go about your life, do as you please. Or you can wander with me, savor the world and the knowledge that you will never leave.”

“Forever is an awfully long time,” Alex said. “Eternity.” But Alec gently pulled his wrist, summoning him closer, and Alex didn’t fight. Alec’s lips were soft and undemanding; he let Alex control the kiss, let Alex do as he pleased, and Alex knew that he should hate Alec for taking the choice from him, for killing him, for making it impossible to have what passes as normal—but he couldn’t. With Alec opening before him, beneath him, with Alec taking everything he had to give—Alex sought him out because of stories, found him because of instincts he didn’t even know he had, and now had him, that hero he’d loved the idea of, that X-5 who was more myth than man, more predator than anything else.

Alex pushed Alec against the wall and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

“You’ll grow bored with me,” he snarled into Alec’s neck, biting the skin.

“I doubt that,” Alec gasped, tangling his fingers in Alex’s hair. “I doubt that very much.”

.

Comments

[pixel-0.livejournal.com]

So, I'm a sucker for anything with Ben in it. All right, any DA fics will at least get a click from me. I like, though, your view of the future X-series and how the X5s from Max's unit came to be viewed as such larger than life characters.

My favorite part--of course--: "Ben, Alex concluded, wasn’t crazy. Not completely over the edge, just—twisted slightly. Pushed a bit too far. He had his reasons, twisted and sick, maybe, but certainly not insane."

This just makes me miss DA fic all the more now. :)

[astrothsknot.livejournal.com]

I like how you managed to turn even the quest for Alec into something mythological

[taniapretender.livejournal.com]

OMG this is too good. I can so imagine Alec and Alex wandering in the world, playing fucking heroes ...

I just can't seem to get enough of Alec either. I don't think anyone wrote a better tv character better. I mean, he's gotta be perfect, right ? Even his wrongs are right.