Title: Suffer well

Author: Lusmeitli

Rating: PG-13

Show: DA

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money involved, no reason to sue

Genre: Angst

Type: Standalone

Pairing: None

Summary: Some people think they can ‘buy‘ a clean conscience for Christmas. But what if a heart has been broken one too many time?

AN: Don‘t read it if you want happy-go-la-la, because it‘s anything but. This is a different kind of Christmas fic. It is not just dark, it‘s noir. It really is. Because that‘s what being hurt does to you. It‘s bloody painful and there‘s nothing romantic or happy about it, no matter what time of the year it is. And it takes a LOT of time to heal.

AN2: Sometimes people you love change. They do things you don‘t understand. Things that hurt you. And you don‘t get an explanation for why they did it. So that‘s why you won‘t get an explanation here, as well.

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Not that he gave a rat’s ass about that whole Christmas thing. Alec couldn’t understand why people made each other’s lives a hell during the year and just because it was Christmas, they’d suddenly be nice to one another. Only to fall back into the same scheme again a few days later. Weeks, if you were lucky. It was an excuse to get absolution for wrong doings. It wasn’t seeking forgiveness because one felt truly sorry for what had been done or said. It was the easy way out of an uncomfortable situation. It was not taking on full responsibility for one’s actions.

He turned to lie on his back and stared at the ceiling. He might be a fuck up, but at least he fucked up all year long and didn’t pretend kindness or forgiveness. Like others. He sighed. Why was he getting so worked up over this anyways? It was supposed to be over. He had decided that was enough and that was all there was to it. No more sleepless nights because of her. No more tossing and turning.

Alec turned on his left, punching the pillow and huffing. So much for no more tossing and turning. The nerve of her! To turn up on his doorstep - no, make that in his flat, because this was after all Max - after what she had thrown his way.

He might be a revved up super soldier with a fucking messed up DNA, but at the end of the day he was only human, too. With feelings. Yes, even he had those. He tried to hide them often enough and he succeeded a lot of times. He had let his guard down twice in his life. The first time had brought him six months in Psy-Ops only to have staring down the barrel of a gun bring back all the memories Manticore’d tried to erase there.

The second time… had brought him this. Great. Just great. Just who the fuck did she think she was? What gave her the right to treat him like that? To hurt him so very deeply and then have the nerve to come and want to make up. After only three months. And when his eyes had asked her why, she’d said, “because it’s Christmas”. Well, Christmas his ass, he didn’t want to hear what she had to say. Not that this had kept her from not telling him anyways.

But this time, he’d been so oddly calm. He had looked out the window, watching the snow fall and cover all the houses, streets, ugly, dirty bits of Seattle, drown out all the noises and turn everything white, pure, silent. The snow seemed to fall onto his heart, too.

Alec turned his head to look at Max and he was really amazed about himself. He felt so… indifferent. Deadly calm. He saw her mouth moving, understood her words, but they didn’t touch him. Neither did her tears. He just sat there, staring at her and pondering about why it was that he didn’t feel rage or pain. What it was that made him sit there calmly on his couch and not yell at her, when all he wanted to do just five minutes before she turned up was yell at her. What it was that made him say not one single word, but just look at her, his face a mask. And when she had ended, he stood up, walked to the door, opened it and looked at her.

The rage and pain came crashing down on him as soon as she was out of the flat, fleeting past him with tears in her eyes. It wasn’t in his nature to be resentful. He only sought revenge once and that was when they had killed Biggs. His mind had screamed bloody murder and he had made sure to get those guys and get them good.

He hadn’t killed them. Just made them suffer a lot. And he had made sure they’d feel truly very sorry for what they’d done to his best friend for the rest of their lives. Manticore had taught him a few mind games that came in quite handy at times. Not that he felt better afterwards. But he felt justice had been done to his friend. And he could mourn Biggs’ death, eventually. In the seclusion of his flat, of course.

However, what Max had done to him simply was unforgivable. It was the worst thing she could ever do to him. And the timing couldn’t have been worse. Long afterwards, in the darkness of his living room, as the Bourbon melted the ice blob inside him a bit, he had asked himself why she had done it. Was it just to see how much power she had over him, to know him so well to hurt him so deeply? Or was it just to see how much he could take? Was it just to vent off some of her anger on him? Was it just a thoughtless act? Or was it intention?

He had carefully thought it through. His photographic memory allowed him to replay all that had been said by him and her - verbatim. Manticore’s Psychology 101 “Getting into the enemy’s head to survive” didn’t really help him understand why she did it. And even though he had desperately wanted it to have been a mere accident, a slip of tongue, he had to realise, eventually, that it had been her full and sole intent to hurt him.

Their relationship had started out on shaky grounds as it was. Them being paired off, her reply had been knocking him into the wall. After Manticore had been burnt down by her, she’d been annoyed by his presence, when he had wanted to find out what was so great about being ‘free’, when it was so much more being on the run, constantly. He had been a thorn in her side since day one and still, he had felt himself being drawn to her, into her.

There were times when she’d loosen up and talk to him like a real person. About Ben. Or later, during the siege of TC, nearly… respecting him for who he was. The peace was there, but fragile. And he had played a big part in that. Not that Max would ever know. Everything he had done to help TC and, ultimately, her, he had covered up carefully. Sometimes he’d felt he would combust because he had to keep so many secrets inside.

And how many times they’d sat in Crash, afterwards, and she had complained about how hard it had been for her, how much she’d had to sacrifice. And all he could do was bite his tongue and take a big swing of his drink. He could never let her know. A few things would kill her if she knew. He’d only wanted to protect her. He’d only wanted her to have her family.

Alec had made sure to pay his dues. Max and Logan were in treatment for their love bug and the doctors said they would be able to touch in a few weeks. He had made deals with all kinds of people to get TC equipped with what was necessary and with what was comfortable.

He had never thought Joshua would sell himself to White for… well, he wasn‘t even sure what for. Josh had been way too excited to speak coherently. But as Alec grasped a few words (and that told him it was a trap) he had tried to talk Josh out of it. Not even his physical arguments seemed to work, so Joshua had knocked him out cold. Because he was a loyal friend. Because for some odd reason he seemed to see something in Alec only Biggs had been able to see so far. He wasn’t quite sure what it was and it was beyond him to question it or dig deeper. He was just grateful it was this way.

Of course Alec went after him as soon as he had regained consciousness and the room didn‘t spin so fast anymore. He had to decide quickly, so he went on a one-man mission. But he was too late. And it was a trap. His only friend had died only a few feet away from him. For nothing. He would never forget those cries, the images, the smells. And all Alec could do was stare into those eyes, as they were glazing over, and feel tears run down his cheeks.

He had seen Biggs die, but that was on telly. To actually be there and see it for himself, how Joshua was tortured to death was more than he could take. Joshua hadn’t deserved this. He shouldn’t have known this kind of suffering. Not someone as pure and innocent as Joshua. Not his friend.

If White hadn’t been the bastard he was, Alec would have ripped those chains in two within seconds and would have been there to help his friend. They would have fought side by side. Most presumably, they wouldn’t have made it out alive, but at least they would have died together.

But Alec had been too weak. The torture devices had hindered his body to do what his mind wanted him to. Alec knew pain. But the moment the light in Joshua’s eyes faded, it felt like he had died, too.

Then one of White’s bub’s came along with a new torture device. And he wanted to die. So he tried to make it happen. Unfortunately, White had seen that Alec was trying to swallow his own tongue, trying to choke himself to death. And he’d had his men stop him. They had seen to the fact that he was no longer able to do that. And no matter how hard he had willed his heart to stop beating, his revved up DNA had not allowed that and neither did White’s defibrillator.

Of course after Joshua was missing, Mole searched for him and found Alec, too. Mole had found them after the smoke of the lizard man’s Uzi had settled down in the room. He was quite eloquent with that gun. The man that had held him up by the rope harboured a huge hole in his chest now and upon dying had let Alec down to the ground, where he crawled through the gunfire to his friend, clasping his hand around Joshua’s cold one.

When the smell of fresh death stung in his nose and a peaceful silence had settled across the room, heavy steps approached them. There was no sound for a long moment. Then Mole had closed Joshua’s eyes and had helped the young transgenic up. They had shared one look, no words were spoken, but the mutual pain felt.

Back at TC, they’d walked in - Alec barely able to keep on his feet - carrying Joshua through the hall to the infirmary, where he would be prepared for the funeral. Max had stood there, falling to her knees at the sight of Joshua’s lifeless form. He was glad she never had a chance to see Joshua close up to find out what they had done to him. The images would haunt her forever. As they would him.

When he was in the infirmary, Mole had seen to it that he had been left alone and that he was patched up. White’s torture had left scars that even his DNA couldn’t heal. And he had been there for Max, when she let no one get close to her but him. He had acted as her punching bag, let his tortured body catch her angry fists, let her tears soak his skin.

He had been there for her during the funeral and in the weeks after. Alec had taken each of her snippy comments and side-remarks without so much as blinking. He knew she was hurting as much as he was and if he could help her with her grief, he would do anything. And he did.

Alec spoke with Logan when he found the doctors. He spent hours on end sitting on the countertop in Logan’s kitchen listening to the older man listing the pros and cons of being able to touch again and whether they should go forward with this treatment, because it was long and the outcome would only be certain half-way through therapy. And would their relationship stand a chance? He listened to Logan’s outbursts and offending remarks about Alec and Max’ supposed relationship and he had made it crystal clear to the older man just how platonic his relationship to Max was. Every other remark, he had swallowed, trying to keep in mind that this was not about him, but about Max. Everyone seemed to be so emotional these days, he had to keep a clear head.

They never knew that Alec paid the rest of the treatment. Hadn’t he been a transgenic, he would have gone down to the harbour to work night shifts. Unfortunately, the peace was not yet stable enough for ordinaries to hire a transgenic. So he had to pay with ‘dirty’ money. Working with the Koreans really was lucrative, even though it earned him a few more injuries. But then that was his way of trying to make things right again.

Time passed and things seemed to quiet down. And then Max had burst into Headquarters one day, seething and insulting him like never before. He was no sissy and the Blue Lady knew he could take a lot from Max. So what if she called him a failure and a fuck up. This was getting quite old and he had just stood there, assuming this was one of her need-to-vent-it-off-so-take-it-out-on-Alec-moments.

How selfish he was. How he didn’t give a fuck about TC and was a lazy butt. How he had destroyed everything between her and Logan. How that treatment was bullshit and certainly just another cruel joke from his part.

Up until she said he was responsible for Joshua’s death. That he had taken her brother from her. He should have protected him better and not ratted him out to White. It came out of the blue and Alec didn’t understand what had caused it. And for a moment he considered telling her the truth and putting facts straight. But what she said next was such a blow to him, his mind went blank. He really never saw this one coming.

“He never meant anything to you. He loved you all the time and you never loved him back. You always had better things to do. He wanted to be your friend so much and you just… pushed him away.”

Alec grabbed the table’s edge to keep him standing. He felt like the floor had just been ripped out from under his feet.

“I wish it were you! I so wish it were you who died there. Every time I see your face it makes me sick. And I wish he was here instead of you.”

The command centre had gone quiet. Everyone had heard. He turned to her, his heart beating painfully rapidly against his chest. She stared him in the eye, challengingly.

Slowly, he put down the map back on the table.

“Is this your honest opinion?”

His voice quiet, void of emotions.

She laughed bitterly. “I’ve had months to think about this. This is my honest opinion. I wish you were out of TC and out of my life. The further away you are, the less harm you can do to any of us. I can‘t stand the sight of you.”

He looked into her eyes, searching them. He didn’t really know what he was looking for. Maybe some sign that this was just a very cruel joke on her part. Some sign that she didn’t really mean it and that grief had welled up again and left her raw and aching and she needed to let it out. But he saw nothing in her eyes. And his heart sank.

After a long moment, he said: “Very well.”

He picked up his jacket on his way out, not once stopping or looking back. Once he was outside, he walked to his KTM, not looking left, not looking right. He got on, revved the engine and sped off. The vibrating motor between his thighs and the cold rain on pinning his face felt good.

After a long ride through the night, he had finally sought out his old place. It had been trashed by the people who had been looking for him, back when they had thought he was Ben and a serial killer. He fixed the door and locked it. Then he went to the bathroom to get the two bottles of Jack Daniel’s out he had hidden behind the tiles. Good stuff, hard to come by and worth a lot of money. Not something you put on your kitchen counter for everyone to see.

And then he had walked back into the living room, across the shattered glass on the floor, sat down on the couch, with both bottles in front of him. He had sat there, all night long and all day long. Only occasionally rising to step to the window or use the bathroom.

He just sat there, taking swings of the bottle, staring at the other bottle still untouched in front of him. Replaying in his mind what she had said. Over and over and over again. Did she even know what she had done to him? He had loved Joshua as much as she had. He just had a different way of showing it. Joshua had been his friend, his best friend after Biggs’ death. Joshua had always seen past his cocky grin, his I’m-always-alright-masquerade. He had known Alec’s real him. He had cared.

And so had Alec. He was there for Joshua when Annie had died. He had arranged for Rita to meet him again and to exhibit more of his work. He had robbed a shop to get him more canvas, never telling him it was from him. It just was in his flat one day. He had been there all the times when Max had promised to do something with Josh and she had called in a rain check at the last moment. Because eating pasta with Logan was more important. He had been there when Joshua had had the flutters about his first date with a lovely wolf lady. He had been there for him when she had dumped him for a leopard male. He had gone after his friend. He had been there in his dying moment.

And because he loved Max so much, it hurt even more. He could live with reproaches for things he had done. For things that had long since been dead and buried, forgiven and forgotten. Obviously not quite so much forgiven or forgotten. But then, he knew that in the heat of the moment, one got irrational and would lash out in any way possible.

What he didn’t understand - what he couldn’t understand - was how she could have hated him so much, all this time, thinking these thoughts - if those really, honestly were her thoughts - and all the while pretending she liked him. Was it calculated? Had everything been a farce? Everything she had admitted to him, in tears? Each time she had hugged him afterwards and told him ‘thank you‘?

He just didn’t understand. And he wanted to so badly. He wanted an explanation. Needed an explanation so badly. Maybe then things would be clearer, perhaps even logical. But he wouldn’t get an explanation. And nothing could explain his pain away.

What had he done to deserve this? He knew he wasn’t exactly an innocent lamb. But he had made up for a lot. For everything he could. Whether she knew of it or not. He had changed. She had changed him. Joshua had changed him. TC had changed him.

To be rejected so wholly and completely… so violently, too… He just couldn’t understand. Something must have happened. But what if nothing had happened? What if this really was what she thought of him? The look on her face had told him that she seemed to have had somehow… enjoyed hurting him.

He had spent hours tossing and turning in his bed. His first instinct had been to run from Seattle. To get away as far as possible, to grant her wish. But something in him had rebelled.

Days passed, turned into weeks. He eventually had gotten up from that couch and found himself another job. He earned some honest money. Under another name. And he was really good at forging an ID and sector passes. He had changed his habits. He worked in the evenings, made deals at night and he drank at home afterwards. He went to bed when the rest of Seattle got up. And he hadn’t had sex in months.

Drinking was useless, he knew. But the ritual calmed him. Opening the bottle, pouring a drink, sipping it, staring at the golden liquor in the glass, getting even with his ghosts. Well, at least until he went to bed. Because they still haunted him there. Would do for the rest of his life.

And suddenly, one day nearly three months after the incident, she had walked into his flat as he sat on the couch, nursing another bottle, cheap stuff this time. Asking him to forgive her for what she said and to come back. Because it was Christmas.

Oh, he knew the look in her eyes. She wanted redemption, absolution. But she wouldn’t get it this time. She had been wrong and had broken his heart. She wanted the easy way out and he couldn’t give her that. Not this time. So he just slowly stood when she had finished, walked to the door, opened it and looked at her. Waited for her to go.

There was a lot to say. But the words weren’t worth his breath anymore. Not for Max. This once she would learn how to live with her own ghosts. This once she would have to live with the fact that she had broken something she couldn’t mend anymore. And certainly not just because it was Christmas. Particularly not because it was Christmas.

He turned on his back yet again, staring at the ceiling. Oddly enough, he felt somewhat lighter after their encounter. Calmer. It was time to leave this all behind. To move on. And now he could. Alec’s eyes fell on the packed bag by the door. He got up and walked to the window. The world was all white and looked brand new, promising him a new start. What better day to start his new life than on Christmas morning. Not that it had meant anything to him before. But it would now.

FIN.