Nine Months Ago

By Kara (AnyaLindir@aol.com)

Disclaimer: If this was mine, there would be no need for the rubber glove.

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Freak Nation

Summary: Alec's POV

Nine months ago, I was assigned a breeding partner, a traitor who had caught who knows what after ten years of living outside. Director Renfro ordered us to copulate--which never happened. Max would've been delivered the kid by now, same as Gem did. Freaky thought, another Max in the world…

It all went to shit with that first refusal, changing the course of that great cosmic destiny forever or something. Max and I fought from that moment. Nothing worked on her--insults, threats, what the Common Verbal Usages trainer called charm… She wanted out, and if she was out of my life, it'd be that much easier for me.

But then Manticore burned, and the ones who created us left us in a world that hated us even more than our creators did. I hated her for ruining everything in my perfectly ordered life. My life sucked ass, but I knew what to expect, and Manticore was so uncomplicated compared to outside.

I don't know when it changed. Could've been that night I watched Logan first react to the virus, shaking with convulsions because he kissed the girl he loved. Could've been the night Max gave up a chance for the cure to save my ass. Could've been the fact that she kept me around even when I wore the face of a brother she had to kill to save him from himself.

Nine months later, I stand at the side of the two that I love and admire the most. Yeah, they're lame-asses, and yeah, I'd do either of them--or both at once--if I had the chance. These two numbwits worked their way under my skin and made me part of this whacked family shit. Between Max and Logan, I owe them my life, my identity and my name. I can look at them and think that maybe what I had with Rachel wasn't so fucked up as Manticore made me think. Maybe it was something real. Maybe even Asha might've been something real like that, something to make all this worth it. In spite of all their shit, they still stand here, holding hands. They're still 'not like that' or whatever, but if they can fake hope in the midst of all this fubared crap, then maybe I can too.

Maybe someday I'll have a real woman and a kid, and I'll have a chance to tell them about that one moment when I was proud to be a transgenic freak and stand at the side of my family. If anything, it'll make a nice pick-up line someday.

This freedom shit isn't too bad after all.