Fanfiction by Iaret/Ankhre

By Iaret/Ankhre, iaret@hotmail.com

"Looking Outside In"

The view from the window never changed, really. Sometimes a few little birds flew past, sometimes there was a wisp of clouds or the gleam of metal; but in the main, the window's picture never changed.

And that was just the way he wanted it.

He was quite content to stay tucked away within the cabin-room, forgotten by most and ignored by the rest. It was only fitting, after all; he never really mattered much anyway. If only it didn't have to hurt...

Flinging himself across the rumpled bed, he ran his fingers through his soft hair and rolled over, so that he could catch his reflection in the mirror hung over the desk. Normally the jacket from his old uniform would be flung over the mirror, obscuring it, but it had once again fallen across the desk and now the silvered glass was in plain sight -- as was the images it held.

Not for the first time, he studied -- critically, almost bitterly -- his own appearance. Pale ivory hair matched by the odd milky paleness of his skin; amber eyes. A combination impossible, even amongst the fair, blonde race he was supposedly part of. Features too symmetrical, too perfectly balanced, to be normal.

Or to be human.

But that didn't make him perfect, oh no. He was flawed, a failed project, useful only as brute firepower or for her amusement. So why was he still alive?

Because they wanted him to be. He was still of some use to them.

He squeezed his eyes closed against the wave of pain the thought caused, even though he had lived with it all his life. His hands curled into fists, clenching tightly onto the bedclothes, as he fought the red rage down again. There was no point to anger anymore; anger had never done anything but add to the ever-growing proof of his imperfection. Better the acceptance, however bitter. Better to wait until someone remembered him again.

Did they realize how much the time they spent with him mattered? How he clutched each moment close, as something to hoard against the isolation of the cabin room? Too much had changed; they had other concerns now, be they children, or each other.

It hurt, but he would find a way to live with the hurt; never once had they ever caused him pain deliberately. Not after he had tried to remove the cause of his pain with the quick strike of a sword...

...even though even that act had failed, just like everything else.

So he would stay tucked away in his rooms, like the artificial womb which he remembered first of all, and wait until they decided they needed him again.

Slowly opening stinging eyes, he glanced towards the heavy blade hung over the mirror. It would be so easy...but against all sense and logic, they wanted him to stay. So he did.

Not for the first time, he considered leaving his quarters and joining someone, anyone else -- and not for the first time, he dismissed it with a cold stab of fear. No. There wasn't going to be another chance for them to drive him off or cast him away. If they wanted him, they came for him...and sometimes, they stayed just long enough to keep the nightmares away.

It was the best thing that had ever happened, really. There was no reason to force it to end.