I don't own T5E... don't kill me...
Written By Shadow
Notes: A fic between my OC and Zorg, please see my homepage for the RPG storylines (yes we have an RPG)
Chapter One: Love Forgotten
The snow fell gently on the cold hard ground and Jean Baptiste Emmanuel Zorg sat on it, staring ahead into the cold, late afternoon. It was nearing dark, but he showed no expression of leaving quite so soon. One leg was propped up, his arm resting on it as the other leg was bent and flat on the ground, his other hand supporting his bodyweight. The snow had fallen coldly onto his wool coat, underneath he was dressed nicer than he had ever been, but like the snow sticking to him, so did the ice sickles that stuck to his heart.
It was pain enough holding back the tears, his body couldn't take it, couldn't tolerate it any longer, but he held his face in it's stone, cold expression, the one everyone had known him by. Alena.... That name whispered through his mind and surged into his veins. He closed his eyes, the tombstone in front of him showed the engraved name of the woman he thought of. She had died young and he had remembered it all, her smile, her laugh... the trickster she was. She wasn't much of a fighter and was actually the complete opposite of him, yet they had bonded faster than anyone he had ever met.
It had started when she was sick, they had been together for 3 years and nothing could separate them, but then she got sick. In the new world of this evolved universe they had thought of every cure for every disease imaginable, except for an exceptional few. Nothing was perfect, not even in the medical world and he slowly watched her deteriorate into nothing more than skin and bones. Her cries sickened him at night; her screams clutched at his heart then ripped it from his chest and after 7 months of nothing but pain and agony, the sounds of her begging at night to be put out of her misery, he had awoken at 2 am, when the city was sleeping.
It had been all those years ago, he was different then, he wasn't so temperamental... and as he remembered what he had done, it made him want to vomit. As he sat, he flashed back again on what had happened next. She was sleeping, for once she was sleeping so soundly underneath the clean white sheets, the warmness of them gave her some comfort and after he had given her a gentle kiss goodbye without waking her, he had done what had to be done, he ended the many future months of torture that would rack her body, craze her mind and bring her skin splitting pain. It would only get worse, the splitting of her skin, the internal bleeding... would only get worse.
Ever so slowly with shaking hands he had loaded his small pistol, clutching to the gun with both hands. It was an older pistol, but it would not be one of his own weapons he had created that would end her pain. After loading it, with tears streaming down his eyes, he watched her turn and sigh with pain, still sleeping, then, he pulled the trigger.
It was all too fast, but he had soon found himself in the same room, back against the wall, shaking, sobbing, he could barely hold the cigarette between his fingers and he sat there for hours on end, staring at the sight in front of him. It was a clean job, barely any blood showed above the body, yet underneath would be a different story. He had done what needed to be done, she had died instantaneously, no more pain, no more suffering.
He now flashed back to the current time, placing a red rose atop her snow covered grave, he kissed it gently, then turned and headed back to his car. The drive back was no better, it was pitch black, the snow turning to rainy sleet and his elbow leaned on the door supporting his head, the other hand on the steering wheel. He was deep in thought about another subject, the second woman in his life that lifted the coldness from his shoulders, the burden he carried about the murder he had committed, one he did not want to do. She hadn't known about it, he dared not tell her.... not now anyway. She would find out one day, either by him telling her or a leakage of information. His employees kept shut about the matter, everyone knew how sick she was and how the government had never issued any type of euthanasia of any human for medical purposes. So she was left to die a horrible death... until he put a stop to it.
Turning into Zorg Corp. thoughts raced in his mind. How he couldn't lose Brooke, not now, not ever. His life seemed to turn around with her and so did hers. He was cold and had a short temper, she was lonely and didn't trust, had a mean spirit and never asked questions twice, she just killed. He had to admit, she was good, very good.... but even she did have her mental break downs, depressions and off days, just like him, just like now.
He had headed up the building stairs, out into the vast marble area, where the front desks were. Past the front desks were flights of marble stairs lined with glass. He passed the large meeting dome, passed several other offices and went down a narrower hall. The building was built finely, floors of marble, walls of wood and steel, ceiling of glass. It had suited him, pleased him... for a while anyway. But business was starting to get boring, he wanted something new in his life, something that would thrill and exhilarate him... and that's when she came along.