Title: Odds on Evens

Disclaimer: If I owned, Prettyfer would be Jace. But he's not. And that's ok, because he's Four. And that's all that matters. But yeah, I don't own anything you know.

Summary: They are like magnets, Sam thinks, dancing around the edges of their polarity. And it makes sense: Four and Six. Even numbers.

Characters/Pairings: Four (aka: John Smith), Six, Sam - Four/Six

Notes: they are currently the only two of their kind. you tell me he's gonna give that up for sarah. yeah, i didn't think so either. haven't read the books -uck- only watched the movie, which was epic. also: italics are spoken words… partly because i hate quotation marks today :/

Word Count: 782


The road seems only to take them farther from Sarah. Four feels the separation always. It is like a fresh wound, raw, always finding sharp edges and hard objects to bump. Pain flares constant. The ache burns holes in him.

But wounds heal. Each new road finds another and, like tender tributaries to rushing rivers, they flow steadily onward. Eventually the ache begins to erode from the banks of his memory.

He tries to dream of her. But he's already forgotten the color of her eyes.

Still, he keeps her a fixed mark in his mind, pinned loyally in the space between his lungs. She is his first love. With every fiber he wishes to be with her again.

Or so he tells himself.

His resolve slips, unintentionally, when the sun and exertion bring sweat through his pores, and Six hovers above him, more real than a desperate remembrance. She's trapped him effectively into the grass, harsh disappointment whetting the edges of her frown.

Stop wasting my time, she warns, her voice a husky whisper against the skin of his neck. Four tries to dismiss the stuttered beat of his heart as a side effect of training.


She is aware that something is different.

There is a new fuel burning within him, directing his actions, buffing out the rough edges of his unrefined skills. Finally, he is something of the challenge she's desired.

They are caught in a battle of strength and will, evenly matched and evenly relentless. Where she attacks, he counters. A grim smile sets upon her lips. Competition crackles in her joints. Determination dots her brow.

She loves the fight, craves it greater than the victory. There an instinct to it, no thought is required. Act, react, look for an opening, take it. She can shut off her mind, forget her pain; in the flurry of fight and skill and fire, she can only be.

Too late she discovers the set of his jaw and the look in his eyes, his guided movements, matching hers, overtaking hers. A misstep, a miscalculation; she is toppled to the ground. He's bested her but makes no move to crow his long-awaited triumph. Instead he lingers above her, his cheeks red, his chest expanding with exhaustion. His hands press into her shoulders. His touch scorches her skin.

It is not his kiss that surprises her. His lips take hers in ways impatient and clumsy but she returns, deliberate and sure. Her body forms to his; her bruised fingers knot themselves in his uncut hair.

Four tastes like innocence and sweat.

He tastes of a home Six barely remembers.

(odd) one out

They are like magnets, Sam thinks, dancing on the edges of their polarity.

He's used to the background; he's been filling the tiny corners of grand schemes all his life, unobserved yet dutifully -and painfully- observant. So he notices the little things they don't seem to notice, or the way things have changed, and he keeps his thoughts to himself.

Because Ohio is a long way behind them. And there's something undeniable in the small moments they share.

And that helps. It renders the sharpness of his incompatibility a less bitter pill to swallow. After all, it makes the most sense:

Four and Six. Even numbers.


"Stronger together than apart."

They meet their first foe on the road, four weeks out.

It's a good sign. But it is also an omen of the bloody future soon to come.

Sam is delegated as guardian of the truck, their belongings, and Bernie. He doesn't mind in the least. It's a station he will defend with honor, and a large alien weapon.

Six is thundering with energy. It rolls off her shoulders like a hurricane. Fury and focus. Four lets the waves break upon him, crash around him. He inhales her fervor, draws in all that she is and all that she will give him. For a moment he loses his center, and reaches out to touch her.

Sam pretends not to notice and Four is grateful because the kiss he shares with Six on the broken pavement is fierce and greedy, both fire and drowning depths. Its reckless and pure and powerful. It fills him; adrenaline and strength beating from his steady heart to thrum through his veins.

She grabs his shirtfront in a fist when they finally break away, leather glove stretching over her pale knuckles.

Don't get killed, you idiot, she warns at the edge of a devilish smile.

See you after, he promises.

And this is how they will survive. This is how they will sustain, together and not apart.

Together, in all the ways they are meant to be.