konstantya (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
konstantya) wrote2009-06-24 08:46 am
konstantya) wrote2009-06-24 08:46 am
Entry tags:
[fic] Darker Than Black - "Fără"
Title: Fără
Fandom: Darker Than Black
Genre: Drama, angst.
Characters/pairings: HeixHavoc (in a strange, dark way)
Rating: PG-15, just to be safe
Word count: 1,700
Summary: Odd, that simply interacting with Contractors was more exhausting than killing them.
“Promise me one thing: If…if I go back to the way I was…you’ll kill me at once.”
“Carmine.”
“What?”
“My name. It’s Carmine.”
It’s probably a lie, but he thinks it suits her, and not just because of her hair. Her official codename is Havoc, but he’s witnessed first-hand that she causes little of it. Havoc implies running and screaming, and there is rarely anyone left to do either.
The only remains of life she leaves is blood. Red. Carmine.
She never smiles, but he gets the distinct impression she’s amused by how uneasy she makes him. Tiny woman that she is, if it was a matter of pure physical prowess, he could snap her in two.
But it isn’t a matter of pure physical prowess, and when it comes down to it, she frightens him, tiny woman that she is.
He gives her a long, speculative look. “Well, don’t expect me to tell you mine.”
The smirk is in her voice if not on her lips. “I never asked for it, did I?”
Wordlessly, he rose from his seat, walking back to the kitchenette, shoveling a few more mouthfuls of food down his throat, dropping dishes into the utilitarian sink as if stalling for time. Though not more than a couple hours ago, it had been he who had been interrogating her.
He shut off the water, dried his hands, slowly walked back. Rounded the table, lowered himself onto the hard, dilapidated couch next to her. He didn’t sigh, but he took a long breath in through his nose. Leaned forward slightly, his elbows against his legs, his hands between his knees.
Pai’s absence hung heavily in the scant, silent centimeters between them, and succeeded in making them both feel naked.
His eyes flicked to her lap, where her left hand cradled her right, like a wounded bird. The first two fingers—the ones he’d broken—had swelled, and now sat at unnatural angles.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” The smirk was in her voice if not on her lips.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it seems like the right thing to say.”
“She’s jealous. That’s why she leaves.”
He jerks his head up. There is little camaraderie between their team. They are all loners, really, but Havoc sits even further apart, completely unreachable and completely detached. He wonders why she provides an answer for the unasked question. “What?”
“Look at the way you’re holding her. She’s the only one you care about.” It’s a statement of fact, not a condemnation. “I don’t understand why it bothers her. Affection is unnecessary. But she’s also started doing that smiling thing. Pointless.”
Pointless, but Pai seems to enjoy it. Or perhaps that’s a lie, just like perhaps Amber’s smiles are a lie.
Odd, that simply interacting with Contractors would be more exhausting than killing them, but there it is.
“I had a little sister once,” she says after a moment, for a reason he can’t fathom, as if she is talking about something plain and mundane as laundry. “She died, back when we were kids.”
He wonders if that’s a lie as well, and can’t fashion a logical argument for or against it.
“You should eat more.”
“I’m not hungry, really.”
“You only had one bite.”
“More than I’ve had on a lot of days.” She smiled slightly, sadly. “Besides, I’ve always been skin and bones; you know that.”
“You’re beyond skin and bones,” he said pointedly, looking sideways at her toothpick arms and painfully sharp knees. “You look like you walked out of Auschwitz.”
A soft, humorless sound came from her. It might have been a laugh had she committed more than one breath to it. “I went there once. Not Auschwitz, but a concentration camp. Belzec. After I left Laura’s family. I don’t know why I went there. Not much is known about it because there were next to no survivors. I guess I maybe felt a kinship with the place. All that death, you know.
“It was strange. Not entirely unlike the Gates, actually. All abandoned, like God himself gave up on it. Such a terrible place…but you kind of feel you belong there.”
There was a pause of silence before he spoke, voice soft where it never would have been in the past. “You’re not that person anymore.”
She looked at him with tired eyes, thin lips cracking into her sorry excuse for a smile. “Neither are you.”
“She’s pretty, you know,” she says, her emotionless tone clashing incongruously with the conversational words. “I’ll never have a body like that, that’s for sure. Plus she’s got that cute British accent.”
He stiffens. The lithe, blonde woman has been coming on to him for some time, and all things considered, it makes him uneasy. He regards his other companion from the corner of his eye. “What are you getting at? I thought Contractors weren’t interested in irrational things like passion.”
“Tell that to her.” She sniffs. “But you’re not a Contractor; you’re human. Makes sense to enjoy it while you can, especially out here.”
For a terrifying second, he’s tempted to do just that. But the light, fragile girl against him hangs heavily in his arms. He shakes his head. “Pai…”
“I could watch her for you,” she offers, though it’s obvious she doesn’t care either way.
His grip on his sister tightens protectively. He shakes his head again, vigorously, though what he’s denying is beyond him at this point.
“She’s not a child, Hei,” she says, and the loaded words do little to reassure him.
She wasn’t sure who started it. One moment they were simply looking at each other, searching for something they couldn’t remember losing, or even having in the first place. The next, he was pushing her down, or she was pulling him on top of her, maybe both, but at any rate, her thin slip somehow got hiked up around her ribs, and his pants somehow got pushed down his thighs, and there they were, panting and pressing, his arms almost cradling her frail shoulders and her hands—broken fingers and all—fumbling around his knives, trying to find his skin.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex. She’d resorted to prostitution a few times in Romania, usually more for the bed and blankets than the money. Before that it had probably been back in her CIA days, probably for the greater cause of some assignment. Odd, that this didn’t remind her more of those instances, devoid of affection as they had been, devoid of affection as this now was.
Instead, it reminded her of her first time, strangely enough, though aside from a couch being utilized in both circumstances, there were absolutely no similarities. Barely seventeen, she’d blindly groped at ecstasy with an affably loud boy she’d sworn she loved, but whose name she couldn’t even remember now.
She thought there might have been something gentle buried under his desperate hands, but perhaps he was just trying to not snap her in two, tiny woman that she was.
She returns, her mouth bloody. Red. Carmine. Pai is again asleep in his arms, and he pulls her closer, as if he can protect the both of them.
Of all the Contractors he’s seen, after all this time, she is perhaps the only one who still manages to unnerve him. Even he has killed children before, and logically, the end result is the same. But somehow her methods make it all the worse.
She wipes her chin, licks her lips, and his stomach heaves its way toward his throat, catching her attention.
He swallows, finds he can’t look at her. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“Not really. It’s a bit messy, but being a Contractor is actually a lot easier than being a human was for me.”
In a horrified way, he’s curious, and though he knows he should know better, he can’t help but ask. “How so?”
“I was with the CIA before. So I was doing all the espionage and killing, but with that bothersome conscience.” Those light green eyes of hers fix him with death. “Kind of like your situation, really.”
“Why?”
He tiredly lifted his head. “You once said something about enjoying humanity while you can.”
A rueful puff of a laugh escaped her, stirring his hair, now damp with sweat. “So you did it for me, then.”
“I don’t know.”
Despite the angle they were at, she could tell his shoulders were slumped. She thought she’d never seen him so weary. She knew she’d never seen him so lost.
She put her left hand, faint and cold, to his face, and he seemed to lean ever so slightly into her touch. Something flickered in his dark eyes, and it might have been gratitude.
“David,” she said, remembering. Odd, that such a sullen Asian man could put her in mind of such a cheerful Caucasian boy, but there it was. “David Tymrac.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, uncomprehending. “Who?”
“Nobody,” she laughed, running her thumb across his cheekbone before she dropped her hand. Odd, that this wasn’t more awkward, as he was still nestled in between her legs, pressed against her bony hips like they were old lovers, though if anyone could claim such a title, it was Amber, not her. Maybe that meant something, but she had a hard time finding meaning in anything anymore.
Looking perhaps a little embarrassed, he moved off of her, refastening his belt before he dropped back down onto the hard couch. She tugged her slip back down and moved her legs to the side, dimly aware of the sticky slickness still between them and the strange, bright feeling of flushed cheeks. He leaned his arms on his knees again and stared at the table. The food had long since gone cold.
“…Fine,” he said, finally agreeing to her terms.
Perhaps he was lying, but she breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time in forever, she relished the air, like she had learned to relish food, taking it graciously into her lungs and expelling it like a bird released from a cage.
And she felt alive, even as she knew she was dying.
-----
A/N: The title means “without” in Romanian.
My first “Darker Than Black” fic. I’m not a big ’shipper, but I love character interactions, and as far as women-interacting-with-Hei goes, I find Havoc one of the most intriguing. Shame she died so early in the series. (A part of me wanted to get on the HeixMisaki bandwagon at first, but I just find that a very…boring pairing, to be honest. Like, not bad, but just bland—and that’s even worse than mismatched to me.)
Fandom: Darker Than Black
Genre: Drama, angst.
Characters/pairings: HeixHavoc (in a strange, dark way)
Rating: PG-15, just to be safe
Word count: 1,700
Summary: Odd, that simply interacting with Contractors was more exhausting than killing them.
- Fără -
“Promise me one thing: If…if I go back to the way I was…you’ll kill me at once.”
---
“Carmine.”
“What?”
“My name. It’s Carmine.”
It’s probably a lie, but he thinks it suits her, and not just because of her hair. Her official codename is Havoc, but he’s witnessed first-hand that she causes little of it. Havoc implies running and screaming, and there is rarely anyone left to do either.
The only remains of life she leaves is blood. Red. Carmine.
She never smiles, but he gets the distinct impression she’s amused by how uneasy she makes him. Tiny woman that she is, if it was a matter of pure physical prowess, he could snap her in two.
But it isn’t a matter of pure physical prowess, and when it comes down to it, she frightens him, tiny woman that she is.
He gives her a long, speculative look. “Well, don’t expect me to tell you mine.”
The smirk is in her voice if not on her lips. “I never asked for it, did I?”
---
Wordlessly, he rose from his seat, walking back to the kitchenette, shoveling a few more mouthfuls of food down his throat, dropping dishes into the utilitarian sink as if stalling for time. Though not more than a couple hours ago, it had been he who had been interrogating her.
He shut off the water, dried his hands, slowly walked back. Rounded the table, lowered himself onto the hard, dilapidated couch next to her. He didn’t sigh, but he took a long breath in through his nose. Leaned forward slightly, his elbows against his legs, his hands between his knees.
Pai’s absence hung heavily in the scant, silent centimeters between them, and succeeded in making them both feel naked.
His eyes flicked to her lap, where her left hand cradled her right, like a wounded bird. The first two fingers—the ones he’d broken—had swelled, and now sat at unnatural angles.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” The smirk was in her voice if not on her lips.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it seems like the right thing to say.”
---
“She’s jealous. That’s why she leaves.”
He jerks his head up. There is little camaraderie between their team. They are all loners, really, but Havoc sits even further apart, completely unreachable and completely detached. He wonders why she provides an answer for the unasked question. “What?”
“Look at the way you’re holding her. She’s the only one you care about.” It’s a statement of fact, not a condemnation. “I don’t understand why it bothers her. Affection is unnecessary. But she’s also started doing that smiling thing. Pointless.”
Pointless, but Pai seems to enjoy it. Or perhaps that’s a lie, just like perhaps Amber’s smiles are a lie.
Odd, that simply interacting with Contractors would be more exhausting than killing them, but there it is.
“I had a little sister once,” she says after a moment, for a reason he can’t fathom, as if she is talking about something plain and mundane as laundry. “She died, back when we were kids.”
He wonders if that’s a lie as well, and can’t fashion a logical argument for or against it.
---
“You should eat more.”
“I’m not hungry, really.”
“You only had one bite.”
“More than I’ve had on a lot of days.” She smiled slightly, sadly. “Besides, I’ve always been skin and bones; you know that.”
“You’re beyond skin and bones,” he said pointedly, looking sideways at her toothpick arms and painfully sharp knees. “You look like you walked out of Auschwitz.”
A soft, humorless sound came from her. It might have been a laugh had she committed more than one breath to it. “I went there once. Not Auschwitz, but a concentration camp. Belzec. After I left Laura’s family. I don’t know why I went there. Not much is known about it because there were next to no survivors. I guess I maybe felt a kinship with the place. All that death, you know.
“It was strange. Not entirely unlike the Gates, actually. All abandoned, like God himself gave up on it. Such a terrible place…but you kind of feel you belong there.”
There was a pause of silence before he spoke, voice soft where it never would have been in the past. “You’re not that person anymore.”
She looked at him with tired eyes, thin lips cracking into her sorry excuse for a smile. “Neither are you.”
---
“She’s pretty, you know,” she says, her emotionless tone clashing incongruously with the conversational words. “I’ll never have a body like that, that’s for sure. Plus she’s got that cute British accent.”
He stiffens. The lithe, blonde woman has been coming on to him for some time, and all things considered, it makes him uneasy. He regards his other companion from the corner of his eye. “What are you getting at? I thought Contractors weren’t interested in irrational things like passion.”
“Tell that to her.” She sniffs. “But you’re not a Contractor; you’re human. Makes sense to enjoy it while you can, especially out here.”
For a terrifying second, he’s tempted to do just that. But the light, fragile girl against him hangs heavily in his arms. He shakes his head. “Pai…”
“I could watch her for you,” she offers, though it’s obvious she doesn’t care either way.
His grip on his sister tightens protectively. He shakes his head again, vigorously, though what he’s denying is beyond him at this point.
“She’s not a child, Hei,” she says, and the loaded words do little to reassure him.
---
She wasn’t sure who started it. One moment they were simply looking at each other, searching for something they couldn’t remember losing, or even having in the first place. The next, he was pushing her down, or she was pulling him on top of her, maybe both, but at any rate, her thin slip somehow got hiked up around her ribs, and his pants somehow got pushed down his thighs, and there they were, panting and pressing, his arms almost cradling her frail shoulders and her hands—broken fingers and all—fumbling around his knives, trying to find his skin.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex. She’d resorted to prostitution a few times in Romania, usually more for the bed and blankets than the money. Before that it had probably been back in her CIA days, probably for the greater cause of some assignment. Odd, that this didn’t remind her more of those instances, devoid of affection as they had been, devoid of affection as this now was.
Instead, it reminded her of her first time, strangely enough, though aside from a couch being utilized in both circumstances, there were absolutely no similarities. Barely seventeen, she’d blindly groped at ecstasy with an affably loud boy she’d sworn she loved, but whose name she couldn’t even remember now.
She thought there might have been something gentle buried under his desperate hands, but perhaps he was just trying to not snap her in two, tiny woman that she was.
---
She returns, her mouth bloody. Red. Carmine. Pai is again asleep in his arms, and he pulls her closer, as if he can protect the both of them.
Of all the Contractors he’s seen, after all this time, she is perhaps the only one who still manages to unnerve him. Even he has killed children before, and logically, the end result is the same. But somehow her methods make it all the worse.
She wipes her chin, licks her lips, and his stomach heaves its way toward his throat, catching her attention.
He swallows, finds he can’t look at her. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“Not really. It’s a bit messy, but being a Contractor is actually a lot easier than being a human was for me.”
In a horrified way, he’s curious, and though he knows he should know better, he can’t help but ask. “How so?”
“I was with the CIA before. So I was doing all the espionage and killing, but with that bothersome conscience.” Those light green eyes of hers fix him with death. “Kind of like your situation, really.”
---
“Why?”
He tiredly lifted his head. “You once said something about enjoying humanity while you can.”
A rueful puff of a laugh escaped her, stirring his hair, now damp with sweat. “So you did it for me, then.”
“I don’t know.”
Despite the angle they were at, she could tell his shoulders were slumped. She thought she’d never seen him so weary. She knew she’d never seen him so lost.
She put her left hand, faint and cold, to his face, and he seemed to lean ever so slightly into her touch. Something flickered in his dark eyes, and it might have been gratitude.
“David,” she said, remembering. Odd, that such a sullen Asian man could put her in mind of such a cheerful Caucasian boy, but there it was. “David Tymrac.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, uncomprehending. “Who?”
“Nobody,” she laughed, running her thumb across his cheekbone before she dropped her hand. Odd, that this wasn’t more awkward, as he was still nestled in between her legs, pressed against her bony hips like they were old lovers, though if anyone could claim such a title, it was Amber, not her. Maybe that meant something, but she had a hard time finding meaning in anything anymore.
Looking perhaps a little embarrassed, he moved off of her, refastening his belt before he dropped back down onto the hard couch. She tugged her slip back down and moved her legs to the side, dimly aware of the sticky slickness still between them and the strange, bright feeling of flushed cheeks. He leaned his arms on his knees again and stared at the table. The food had long since gone cold.
“…Fine,” he said, finally agreeing to her terms.
Perhaps he was lying, but she breathed a sigh of relief. For the first time in forever, she relished the air, like she had learned to relish food, taking it graciously into her lungs and expelling it like a bird released from a cage.
And she felt alive, even as she knew she was dying.
-----
A/N: The title means “without” in Romanian.
My first “Darker Than Black” fic. I’m not a big ’shipper, but I love character interactions, and as far as women-interacting-with-Hei goes, I find Havoc one of the most intriguing. Shame she died so early in the series. (A part of me wanted to get on the HeixMisaki bandwagon at first, but I just find that a very…boring pairing, to be honest. Like, not bad, but just bland—and that’s even worse than mismatched to me.)