Dysfunctional -- Chapter 37

Disclaimer:  The TV show Dark Angel, all of the characters that appeared on it (Alec, Biggs, Renfro, etc.), and everything else that has to do with the show belong to their respective owners, not to me.  No money is being made off of this fic.  I only own the original characters (X5-121, etc.).

Notes:  Spoiler-ish stuff for “Hit A Sista Back,” “Meow,” “…And Jesus Brought A Casserole,” and “The Berrisford Agenda.”

One month later…

494 marched through the halls, relieved. That mission was so simple, an X7 could have done it. Scope out the target, target his ass, bullet to the brain, all done in two days. He couldn’t help smirking to himself. And they thought that it would take three! It looks like I haven’t lost my touch, after all. He looked up and saw 511 approaching him. “Hey, buddy. How have things been for the last couple of days?”

“Well, the usual suspects are going to be disappointed that you’re back a day early,” 511 commented with a laugh. “Be especially careful for 908. Director Renfro called 908 into her office this morning and she apparently told 908 that it had been decided that our unitmate was too ‘psychologically unstable’ to participate in the breeding program, so 908’s pretty pissed off about that.”

“Well, Director Renfro was probably right on the money,” 494 remarked. “Anything else?”

“New pairings were listed today,” 511 told him. He sighed in relief. “I wasn’t among them. 532 and 107 were, though. 532 got paired with a guy from Unit 7 and 107 got paired with some chick from Wyoming.”

“Did I get on the list?” 494 asked. 511 opened his mouth to answer, but a tech came running up to them.

“X5-494? Director Renfro wants to see you in her office immediately,” he said.

“I’ll be right there,” 494 promised. He turned back to 511. “Fill me in on the rest when I get back from the office, okay?”

“Will do,” 511 said. He gave 494 a salute.

494 returned the salute and then turned and walked off in the direction of Renfro’s office. He got there quickly and was let inside and stood at attention. “X5-494 reporting as ordered, ma’am.”

“At ease, 494,” Renfro instructed. “I’m glad that I was able to catch you when you came in. Congratulations on completing your assignment as efficiently as you did. It’s nice to see that your skills still remain at such a high level.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” 494 replied.

“I wanted to let you know that your debriefing for this mission has been postponed to tomorrow morning at 0800,” Renfro informed him. “It will still be taking place in room 10. The reason that it has been postponed is that you have been assigned to the breeding program. Because you did return early, I have decided that you will be starting tonight as opposed to tomorrow night or the night after. You will report to D Wing, fourth floor, block two, cell number eight. Your breeding partner will be X5-734. Any questions?”

“No, ma’am,” 494 said.

“Dismissed,” Renfro ordered.

494 saluted her and walked out of the office. Whoa, I got assigned the ex-‘09er? Damn, Renfro must have been in a cutesy mood today. This is going to be pretty weird, especially if 734 happened to see 493 at some point when they were both on the Outside. He bit his lip. I don’t know if I can just jump right in and do this. It’s not that it’s been six months since I last had sex, it’s just…would I be cheating on Rachel? Can you cheat on somebody that’s most likely dead? 511 told me what he had heard about Rachel’s condition. The chances of somebody waking up from an injury like that are slim to none. Even a transgenic would struggle. He continued walking until he finally reached 734’s cell. He took a deep breath and knocked.

“It’s open. You can come in,” 734 told him.

“Thanks,” 494 said. He opened the door and walked inside. “Hi, you must be 734.”

“That’s me,” 734 confirmed. She sounded slightly nervous. “You must be 494.”

“Isn’t that sweet? Our designations end with the same number,” 494 remarked.

“Yeah, it is cute, isn’t it?” 734 said dryly. She sighed. “I guess we should get things going, huh?”

“Nah, it’s okay,” 494 assured his fellow X5. He grinned and pulled 734’s desk chair over to near her bunk and sat down in it. “I like to get inside a woman’s mind before I get inside her pants.”

734 laughed. “Good, because I’m not the type to put out on a first date.”

“That’s a handy fact to know,” 494 commented. “So, is there anything else that I need to know about you?”

“Not too much,” 734 said. “I guess I should give you some of the basics. My favorite color is blue, my favorite subject is Close Quarters Combat, and my least favorite thing to study around here is Language. Oh, and I can’t cook for shit.”

“Don’t feel bad about that at all,” 494 assured 734. “I can’t cook either and I had semi-formal training here. I seem to have this ability to make whatever I’m attempting to cook, whether it’s soup or dessert or a main course of some kind, you name it, look like vomit. I’m completely serious.”

“Yeah, but is it at least edible?” 734 asked. “I can’t even get my cooking up to that level.”

“I don’t know.” 494 paused, a thoughtful look on his face. “I didn’t want to try to eat it.” They both laughed. “What’s your favorite sport?”

“To watch or to participate in?” 734 wondered.

“Either,” 494 replied.

“I don’t know,” 734 said. “I like playing baseball or softball. It’s a lot of fun. I played in some kind of summer league for kids the summer when I was twelve and I was in foster care until that fall. I held way back, but it was still a lot of fun.” She looked thoughtful. “As for watching, I remember once when I was about sixteen and I was in Mexico temporarily that I would go out and watch these local pro wrestling matches.” Her face lit up. “It was amazing! These guys were flying around and flipping and it was just like watching art in motion, you know what I mean?”

“I do,” 494 answered. “I went on a mission with my two best friends to Mexico once and we caught some pro wrestling during our off hours. It was great.”

“Cool,” 734 said. “Have you ever pissed off a trainer but not gotten in trouble?”

“All of the time,” 494 said cockily. 734 laughed. A guard at the end of the hallway heard her laughter and started to walk in 494 and 734’s direction. 494 quickly got out of the chair and moved over so that his body was blocking 734’s from the window in the cell door. Sure enough, the guard peeked through that window a few moments later.

“You know, it’s bad when a woman is laughing during sex,” the guard sneered.

“Hey, she’s only laughing because I’m kissing her in a ticklish spot,” 494 lied smoothly. “Come on, pal. Don’t tell me that you’ve never been with a girl who was ticklish before.”

“Yeah, I have,” the guard conceded.

“Good. Can you please let us continue? Come on, man, it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten any on a mission,” 494 begged.

“Good luck,” the guard said, but he walked away back to his original position.

494 breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down in the chair. “Close.”

“Nice sweet talking,” 734 commented. “I’m guessing that’s how you’ve gotten out of getting punished when you’ve pissed off trainers?”

“Sometimes,” 494 admitted. “Though I remember one time my mouth almost got me into major trouble with a trainer and I was almost definitely going to be tossed into the brig for awhile, but then 908, she’s probably the most psychotic of all my unit mates and we’ve got some rather interesting ones in the group, did something to piss off the trainer even more so she was the one who spent a few days in the brig. It was one of the lightest punishments that she’s had over the years.”

734 raised an eyebrow. “She sounds like a handful.”

“You have no idea,” 494 told her. He shuddered. “I’d go into detail, but we only have so much time.”

“I see,” 734 said. “My unit—my current unit isn’t so bad. A lot of them are kind of nice. Some of them still hesitate to talk to me, but…you know.”

“I know,” 494 agreed. He saw that 734 was starting to become uncomfortable, so he decided to change the subject. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Men, if they aren’t thinking about sex…” 734 deadpanned.

494 grinned. “Hey, I literally just got back from a quick solo mission. Literally, the last couple of hours for me went like this: relieved some scumbag executive of the top part of his head, call back to base, told to drive back to the rendezvous point immediately, picked up at said rendezvous point and taken back here, a few quick words with my 2IC, then over to Director Renfro’s office where I was told to haul ass over here. I didn’t have time to eat dinner today.”

“Oh,” 734 said. “Hold on a second.” She got up from her bunk and went over to a drawer in her desk and pulled out something and handed it to 494. “Oatmeal raisin granola bar. One of my unit mates sneaked me in a box of them from her last mission. I love these things.”

“Thank you.” 494 gave 734 a grateful look before he unwrapped the granola bar and took a bite. “These are really good.”

“Yeah, they are,” 734 agreed. “I remember I used to snack on these a lot a few years ago when I was living in Nebraska and I had this really crummy job and my boss would keep me at work until these ridiculous hours. I would keep some of these bars in my desk because I knew that at least two or three days out of the week, I wouldn’t be getting home in time to make or get dinner at a decent hour. I couldn’t stand the guy! Have you ever been on a mission where you were working some place and you hated your boss?”

“No,” 494 said. “Sorry. I think the closest that I’ve ever come to that was one time when I was fifteen and I went on a mission to Switzerland with my unit and we were posing as students on a field trip and we took a tour of this city to both establish cover and do some recon in broad daylight and our tour guide was the biggest pain-in-the-ass. I think I spent half of the tour actually doing what I was supposed to be doing and the other half thinking of ways that I could hurt her and make it look like an accident.” He smirked. “121 must have been thinking along the same lines as I was because after the tour guide called her a ‘overgrown American idiot’ or something like that in French, for the seventh time during the tour, by the way, the guide just happened to trip and twist an ankle and was limping for the rest of the tour. 121 always did have a little bit harder time than I did controlling her temper. Must be the red hair.”

734 was a little quiet. “121?”

“Yeah. I’m not the only one in my unit who has or had a twin in your old unit,” 494 said. He looked at 734, concerned. “Are you okay?”

734 was silent for a few moments longer before she finally started to speak. “Have you ever done something that you were told was…you were told to do something and you thought that it really was the right thing to do, but it only ended up badly? Have you ever seen somebody or…have you tried to stop a situation that looked as if it was going badly only to find out that you just made it or that you might have made it so much worse?”

494 saw the pain in 734’s eyes and he couldn’t help feeling sympathetic. You have no idea. “Something along those lines,” he agreed softly. “Did this happen before you left Wyoming with your old unit, while you were Outside, or after you got back?”

“After I got back,” 734 said. She shook her head. “I can’t talk about it, 494. Not yet.”

“I understand,” 494 assured her. “Believe me, I know what you’re going through.” He took one of 734’s hands in his and gave it a supportive squeeze and he and 734 smiled.