6-
When Locke finally arrived at his apartment, drowsy from the blissful chocolate intake and missing his usual afternoon nap, he couldn’t find it in him to be surprised to see something sitting in front of his door. Or, someone, more precisely. To be even MORE precise, a man named Aidenai who’d been haunting the thief’s thoughts since they’d met.
“Need something?” Locke sighed, simply leaning over the slumped figure to insert his key. When the white-haired man didn’t move, Locke nudged him with a black-shoed foot. “Hey. You okay?”
Blurry turquoise eyes blinked up at him. “Sorry to impose, but could I borrow your couch for the night? I’m sorry to say my apartment’s most likely rather contaminated with poison and other elements aiming for my demise,” he said, words slurring together.
Locke blinked sleepily at him. “You sure talk weird when you’re tired…”
Aidenai smiled shyly (and it was absolutely heartbreaking). “I know. I try not to,” he said, only to be cut off by a yawn.
“If you shut up, you can stay, how ‘bout that?” Locke muttered, and the door swung open. He didn’t even remember the other man’s presence as soon as he stepped in, movements turning onto autopilot. The unnoticed, unlit cigarette hanging limply from his mouth was crushed into the ashtray, and his jacket was tossed onto a wooden chair, followed quickly by his shoes being kicked off. After that he went on to carefully stow his knives, pulling them off with a swift efficiency.
It was only when he started stripping off his unusual (and rather tight) shirt that Aidenai moved from the doorway, stopping Locke in his tracks with a single shift in the flow of the apartment.
“I’ll just use the bathroom, if you don’t mind,” he muttered, and if Locke hadn’t been so tired he might have noticed the blush dusting his elegant features as the white-haired assassin slipped into the correct door and shut it behind him.
“Do I have excessive pheromones or something?” Locke grumbled to himself, trying to ignore his own blush (and thankful that his upraised arms had hidden his face). With a heavy sigh, he woke up enough to actually change into pajamas, in this case baggy blue sweat pants and another high-collared shirt, although short-sleeved and white. Not that it kept him from the sharp intake of breath when he pulled the green one off or the white one on. Muttering to himself about nothing in particular, the exhausted thief grabbed his one single pillow, threw it onto the couch he barely remembered having (regardless of the overpoweringly bright blue it was…), and grabbed the bright yellow blanket he kept around for when it got below zero, tossing that on too.
Close to passing out from exhaustion, Locke just crawled into his bed. He knew he went practically comatose when asleep, so Locke could only hope his trust in the assassin wasn’t misplaced, or as stupid as he figured it had to be.
When the bathroom door opened, he could barely hear Aidenai creep over to the neglected couch, already mostly asleep. The only two sounds Locke could truly discern being the fwump of a beloved white duster falling onto the same chair as Locke’s jacket, and an eerily familiar song of metal rising from its sheath…
As he moaned into his pillow, wincing, Locke’s tired world faded into darkness.
It was foreign. New. Confusing. The complex’s ancient gray stone sang to him, and the new, biting feeling on his finger was strangely comforting. The Man behind him was pointing things out, but he didn’t hear, letting the tour go on as the walls whispered of the true secrets, of the things only HE could do, only HE could reach.
He stopped suddenly, from what The Man could see, but he
was intent on the newest information from the walls. Maroon eyes turned to the
scared Man- most everyone was scared of him, after all, It was nothing new –
fiercely.
“I’m going this way,” he stated, and The Man blanched at
him.
“But-”
He ran, and there was no way The Man could try and
keep up, although he didn’t seem to run so fast, the biting on his finger
intensifying to a crunching sensation, but he was used to ignoring pain. The
walls said something he wanted, something important, something he’d like, was
down here-
“Hey!” a young voice shouted, and he slammed into two
boys, staring at him. The one he was mostly on top of was glaring at him with
bright violet eyes, while the other simply blinked with green. “Watch where
you’re going!”
“Who are you?” he asked, and the blue-haired boy shoved
him off, the walls whispering THEM. “Why are you important?”
“…Huh?” For the first time, he noticed the shoulder-length
blue hair and the thin braid down the left side of his head.
“I’m Dante,” the green-eyed boy said simply. Wavy blonde
hair formed a halo around his head, and a tiny sword earring hung from an
earlobe.
“Oh, fine, make me play nice,” Blue-Hair groused, rolling
his eyes dramatically. Finally, he grinned at him. “Call me Sage. My NAME-name sucks.”
“What’s your name?” Dante asked.
HE blinked. Name…name…what was it? Did he have one?
His head started to hurt. It was locked, locked, LOCKED-
Snap OUT of it-
“Lacked? That’s a weird name…”
And his hands rose up to his head, trying to do SOMETHING
to unlock the information, and it HURT-
“He said Loch.”
“No, it was Lacked. Is that your name, kid? Lacked?”
“I heard Loch.”
IT WASN’T THERE WHERE’D IT GO WHAT WAS HIS NAME-
There are no names, only designations-
“…huh?”
“Maybe it was ‘Locked’? Makes just about as much sense…”
“There wasn’t a D.”
“…Locke? That’s his name?”
This time is yours. You’ve earned it.
“…He’s not looking so good…”
Live. Love. Let yourself forget.
“Hey, kid. Uh, Locke... You okay?”
Maroon eyes snapped open, blinking.
Locke.
It was as good as any, he supposed…
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Shit, Locke…” His other self’s voice penetrated the darkness. “Wake up, kid. This is gonna get ugly-”
He WAS. Nothing else mattered.
The ash bit through his bare feet, the charred souls
drifting around him in the leftover breeze and catching in his dirty black
hair. His head tilted back, letting the wind catch some of the steam he
breathed out into the chilly morning air and watching it ride the currents into
the clouds.
The sun would be rising soon. He could feel it.
Someone was approaching. Red-purple eyes flashed,
assessing.
“Not a threat,” he whispered, voice still hoarse.
There was something missing. He couldn’t think, though,
thinking would be bad. Simply BE. No less, no more.
And his neck continued to bleed as he fell into the
ashes, the encroaching sound of a horse at full-run singing him to sleep-
“I MEAN IT, Locke!” His voice was getting frantic. “WAKE U-”
The cage was cold against his thin, billowing gray clothing. Why they made him wear them was something he rarely let himself dwell on, for Insubordination was met with Punishment.
The collar was cold too, and it was beginning to bite all
the time. Something he also did not allow himself to think about. Pain led to
questions, which could be considered Insubordination at times as well.
They told him what to think, and do. All he had to do was
obey, and then he staved off the Pain for just a bit longer.
Survival was the goal. And that was achieved through
obedience.
So he stood in the cage while the others sat, saluted
when the others screamed, bowed when the others wept. The fact he was shorter
than them never equated with ‘younger’, the fact he was examined more never
meant anything other than he was being better taken care of.
He was standing when The Doctor and She came. The Doctor
had already met his eyes, so he was in front of the door when they got there.
“Well, he’s certainly obedient,” She mused, and The
Doctor nodded. “So…this is the Zero.” Her eyes sized him up. “Designation?”
“Aelar, C-Zero,” The Doctor stated, a smirk coming onto
his face (just like every other time he gave Designation, but that was
Insubordination, and he didn’t think that, no he didn’t). She snorted.
“Doctor… ‘Lover of Power’? Isn’t that a bit
presumptuous?”
“For a ZERO? I think not,” The Doctor scoffed, and
couldn’t see the dangerous glint on She’s face (but HE saw it, it was good to
see things, because then he knew what to do). “And I prefer the ‘Loved by
Power’ connotation, as it were. Fitting, wouldn’t you say?”
She was ignoring The Doctor, staring straight at him.
“You look just like your father, did you know that?”
He bowed his head low. “As my mistress says.” (because
that was what most of them wanted, even though he didn’t know She, She must be
like the others)
She frowned. “Aelar.”
His head jerked up. (DESIGNATION)
“I don’t want you to say that to me,” She chided, and
before he could bow, She’s hand snaked into the cage, grabbing his chin, and he
gasped.
She’s hand was so warm…
“No son of his should be like this,” She sighed, frowning
at The Doctor (and that was INSUBORDINATION…wasn’t it?). “I’d like him to spend
the night with me.”
The Doctor blinked. “But My Lady, he’s SEVEN-”
“TONIGHT,” She barked, and if She’s grip had been any
tighter on his chin She might have started to choke him.
“As My Lady wishes,” The Doctor hissed, and She ignored
him, smiling softly at him (and there was something familiar about that
smile) and letting go of his chin and touching him softly on the cheek.
“Good afternoon, Aelar.” She left the tent, and The
Doctor glared at him before following.
He allowed himself a tiny quirk of the lips. The Doctor
would be dead before sunrise.
SOMETHING was about to happen.
“Locke, I can’t get you out of here, I’m trying-”
And he realized with looming dread that he really, really wanted Aelar to get him away from here-
The tent was green, and She was wearing black.
“Do you know what fear is, Aelar?”
OH FUCK NO-
He didn’t respond, didn’t move, simply stood in the
middle of the room, waiting. She smiled softly, toying with something behind
her back.
“Feel free to speak candidly. There will be no
punishments for anything you do when in my presence…well, when we’re alone.”
He remained stationary, trying to decide.
She sighed. “Fear is when you don’t want something. When
it scares you. Have you ever been scared, Aelar?” He remained frozen, and She
glared. “SPEAK.”
“No, mistress,” he stated. “I do not understand fear, and
I…I can’t remember being scared.”
She’s head tilted to the side. “But you have not wanted
something, am I right?”
PLEASE NO -
She laughed softly, falling into a chair. For a while,
she just looked at him wistfully.
“You look so much like him, Aelar. Same face, same hair…”
She sighed. “But your eyes…His were green.”
“…”
“Speak.”
“…like the tent?”
She shook her head, rising from the chair as her gaze
sailed about the structure’s olive walls nostalgically. “No…fiercer than any
inanimate object could ever hope for.” She paused, eyes reverting to his.
“Stronger than any metal. Harder than any mountain. Fiercer than any storm.
That was your father, Aelar.”
She kneeled in front of him.
“Do you even know what you are, child?”
“Hold on, Locke…!”-
He nodded. “Aelar, C-Zero. Under supervision of-”
“Not that,” She snapped, and he barely kept from wincing. “I’m sorry it’s okay, I didn’t mean it. You’re not in trouble, child.” She’s hand was back on his cheek. “What I meant wasn’t what you’ve been told you are, but what you are. WHO you are.”
Their eyes met- maroon crashing against a soft brown.
“I will tell you, Aelar,” She said forcefully. “I will
tell you of your father, even your mother, of what you are, who you are…what
you WILL be. Would you like that, child?”
Without a single thought, he nodded.
She smiled. “All I ask in return is one simple thing-”
“-one simple thing, Aelar. A small price, for all of this, wouldn’t you say?”
He nodded.
She smiled, and he missed the hard edge of She’s eyes.
“Kill them.”
He paused. “All of them?”
“ALL of them.”
He nodded again. “At fourthnight, it will be done.”
Oh PLEASE-
“Hold on, Locke, this may hurt-”
“‘O ye of uncountable sins’, spake Iram, Master of
Shadows, ‘Do not trust in humanity,’” He whispered, the knife in his hand
quickly cutting into the skin-
please please please please please-
And someone was holding him and someone was screaming and it sounded like him, but he couldn’t see, only hear.
“Locke. LOCKE. Relax,” a voice said…did he know them? “You need to relax. You’re fine.” A hand was behind his head, but he felt himself moving, screaming like he was dying-
And then he was in a field of ashes, and before he could collapse he could feel arms wrapped in a smooth, nearly translucent fabric enfold around him.
“Shhh…shhh…it’s okay, Locke,” his other self soothed him, petting his back just as frantically as Locke found himself breathing. “Relax. You practically sent us into seizures, kid. Calm down.”
“Aelar…was that…was that…” He couldn’t even say it.
“No,” his other self said quietly. “That was me.”
Locke finally nodded, breath coming more normally, but still clutching Aelar as tightly as his other self held Locke.
“Get some rest, kid,” he whispered. “You’ll get control back when you’ve calmed down a bit more, okay?”
He just nodded, letting himself relax as his other self faded into reality, until he was completely and utterly numb.