Disclaimer: If I owned them I wouldn't be writing this.
Author's Note: I think I'm getting the flu, I feel like crap. But anyway, I'm sick and sadistic, hence this story so be warned. This hit me last night while brushing my teeth. I have no idea why, but it seems that the muses strike after I turn off Henry and get ready for bed. So here it is.
Title - The Price We Pay
Author - Ashlee
E-mail address - zyp959@hotmail.com
Rating - G
Category - character death (shouldn't stop you from reading), MP angst
Series/Sequel - noppers
Spoilers - N/A
Summary - Some late night thinking leads to a realization, and drastic steps
are taken
"The Price We
Pay"
By Ashlee
I hate Pretenders. I hate pretending. I really hate pretending. It's something I've been doing my whole life, and still I hold a grudge. Rightfully so if you ask me. No child should have to live their life being someone they're not. That's how I spent my childhood, that's how everyone who grows up in the Centre spends their childhood.
You know what? Scratch the whole 'I hate Pretenders' thing. I don't hate pretenders; I surely don't hate Jarod, despite all that I have said. I hate the Centre. They caused all of this. Well, actually Jarod's the one who got me thinking about this. It's his normal call time: 2 a.m., but his call tonight was different. No teasing, no pranks, no impossible to answer questions, just five words: 'They have to be stopped.'
I've been thinking about that all night, and I agree they have to be stopped, and, although Jarod didn't say it, I have to be the one to stop them because I am as much a part of them as they are evil. I know that now. I have accepted it.
Maybe Syd had it right two years ago when he tried to blow up SL-27. Total obliteration, nothing left but rubble and bodies. Nobody left to resurrect something that should have never been born. Jarod once said that we all deserve to be free, and I realize now there is only one way for us all to be free.
I call Syd, then Broots, and then Sam telling them all to take tomorrow off. Of course they question me, asking me if I'm all right. I just smile sadly and reply: "Just peachy." Tomorrow they will know, they will understand. But to make sure I write a letter, well more of a note.
"We all deserve to be free. I am, and now so are you. This was the only way."
I set the note down on my coffee table and sit down with another glass of vodka. Surprisingly enough, I'm not scared of what's to come, but find peace in knowing my destiny. Destiny is such a funny word. I wonder if I had done things differently if I would still be doing this. Because if it were truly my destiny I could be living in some little country, filthy rich and yet I would still be planning to do what I am. I guess that's something to think about.
The minutes tick by, quickly turning into hours, and soon it's time for me to head towards my fate, my destiny…the Centre. I walk down the all to familiar halls looking into the rooms as I pass, noting that everyone is here on time, as always. Lyle looks shocked as he sees me walk by smiling. Rat bastard that he is. I walk slowly towards the elevator, the one mom was killed in, and nothing. I am at peace.
I ride to SL-12 alone, and stopped. I demand a few things from a timid man who gives me what I want, then command him to leave the building. He does so, and I smile, knowing one less innocent will die.
I re-board the elevator and descend down another 15 sub levels patiently. I am in no hurry. I know that I'm doing the right thing, I'm setting us all free. I laugh at the picture of Mel Gibson in my head, when he yells "Freedom!" in Braveheart. Mel Gibson is one fine looking man! To bad he's married with like ten kids. Oh well.
I'm jarred out of my Mel Gibson fantasies as I arrive to the infamous SL-27, where so much had happened two years ago, but it feels like decades have passed in that small span of time. Maybe they have. Maybe I've been reliving this day until I got it right. Maybe I've been going in circles. I don't know.
I walk up to where Syd had placed his bomb all those years ago. The pillar was obviously gone, as was the rubble from the explosion, but I knew precisely where it had been. Not a very good place to put it, seeing as in that place it's only guaranteed to take out this floor. I, however, don't intend to make that mistake. I have enough explosives here to blow up Alcatraz and know the structural weaknesses. This place is as good as gone. I smile at that.
I set up the bomb slowly and purposefully. I can't afford to make mistakes. This is too important. I set the timer. There's one more mistake I'm not going to have happen. I'm not going to give them enough time to find the bomb.
I step back. Five, four, three, two, one. The last thing I see is a blinding flash of yellow, and I smile. I'm finally free.
We are all free.