Title: (I still need one
of these)
Author: Mair (the prolific apparently. thanks rem)
Pairings: Same as the other parts... 1+2+1
Genre: Drama
Archive: Hell yes! Lemme know where so I can praise your many virtues!
Warnings: Hm. Well angst's figured rather heavily into the first three... No
reason to stop with it yet...
Dislaimer: I own nothing. It's all done in the name of fanfiction! You sue you
won't get anything! I have no money and it's all Rembrants fault!
Oh. In case anyone would
like to read the others in this procrastination attempt... go here... http://www.geocities.com/oracular_1
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I've tried tracking him.
I've come up with nothing. The doctors told me they helped him with a
decontamination project in California but they didn't have any other
information. There are a lot of people in California.
I figure he must be
somewhere on the coast. The weather is the mildest there and it's easier to
blend in. More people. Strangely enough, in the 5 months since I left school, no
one has heard from him. No one I've talked to knows him or anyone fitting his
description. He wouldn't have cut his hair. I know the story behind it.
His actions puzzle me.
They are illogical. The house we stayed at was one of Quatre's. He had free room
and board there plus servants to see to the chores and laundry. Why would he
leave? Did he think we weren't coming back? That must have been it, but that
still doesn't explain why he left.
I sigh and look out over
the wharf.
"Crazy bugger...
Y'really think he's living out there?"
"Don't know where
else he'd be stayin'. That boat he runs don't have enough room for food, him and
sleepin' room. Crazy kid. Has to decontam' every time he comes in or atleast
prove he's fine by a blood test... Surprised he's still alive after 4 months
o'livin' out there."
I look up and watch the
two men pass me. Their words chill me. Decontamination. Kid. Small boat not big
enough to sleep on. "Who are you talking about?" I demand.
One of the two men turns
around and blinks at me. "Huh?"
"Who are you
speaking of?"
"Oh. Max. 'Said his
name was Max Solo. Has a Star Wars fettish if y'ask me."
Max... Shortened from
Maxwell, his last name. Solo, taken from his friend who died and gave him his
name of Duo.
"Why does he have to
go through decontamination?" I asked.
The other man turned
around now, exchanging a glance with the one who answered my first question.
"He's goin' out to that island. The one where everyone died cause of a
biochemical thing. He can't be wanderin' around infecting us all so he has to
decontaminate. Surprised he hasn't died yet personally."
The scientists told me
they helped him decontaminate something. This had to be it. "I want to hire
a boat."
One of the men's jaw
dropped. "You mean to go out there?!" he pointed out toward the island
just barely visible. I nodded. "I hope you've got a lot of money boy,
'cause you'll have to buy a boat to get out there."
I smirked. There wouldn't
be a need. Stealing one is faster and that's something I'm very good at. I
nodded to the two gentlemen and watched as they shook their heads and walked
off.
I
was so close. I won't let him get away again. I won't be alone.