Deserted Highways

I'm Your Worst Nightmare

It had to happen today. He had to do it now, he couldn't keep waiting any longer. He rose calmly from his chair and moved to the door. He pulled it open softly, not trying to draw attention, but it was for naught because people's eyes slid over and passed him and down the hall like he wasn't there. He walked down the hall, a clipboard in hand, he had to make it look like he had a reason for leaving his office.

His breath whooshed out of him as he was slammed roughly into a wall, and he slid to the floor clutching his chest. He looked up, only in enough time to see a flash of matted red hair, wide eyes, mismatched and set in a bruised face. "Keep going," the woman yelled, we have to keep moving." More people blurred past him as they moved and he recognized the fierceness in their movements, knew what they were.

The banging of a side door made him start, and he pushed off the floor slowly, and they were gone, papers fluttering to the ground and heads poking out of offices in their wake. He went back to his office. He slid something out of a small hidden compartment in his desk drawer and then he left again, walking unnoticed to the side door that led to the exit.

He could hear fighting on the stairs, more yelling and he waited until there was silence and then he kept climbing. He reached the top, to a door he knew would lead to the roof, and he strained his ears, but they were not enhanced and he couldn't hear anything through the solid metal. He heard footsteps traipsing up the stairs below him, and he tried to press himself into the shadows, but when the person made it to the top of the stairs, a large, mean looking gun held tightly in their hands, their eyes went straight to the corner where he stood.

He could see now that they were male, dark brown hair and eyes, and the man raised a finger to his lips, and then moved to the door, with a cat like grace that belied his enhancements.

He didn't move from his corner, until he heard a shot, and then another, and then there were screams, masculine and broken, hurt. He took the steps as quickly as he dared, he knew how to get out without having to go back through the main offices. He stepped onto the pavement, the sun shown brightly, too bright, and somehow there was no one around, no one to see what he saw, the two bodies on the sidewalk.

Red hair mixed with deeper red, thick and liquid, the same face as the woman who'd torn past him in the hall before. Beside her was another, older, still beautiful, and the force of the satisfaction and joy that hit him at the sight of her unnaturally still face nearly made him crumple. She'd dead, truly dead, and yet he knew it would never be enough to end everything.

The younger one, he watched her, her finger twitched, a rasping breath passed through her parted lips, and he knew, he needed to get her out, he was going to need her alive for what came next.

"Can you hear me?" he asked, kneeling next to her and putting his mouth at her ear, and her eyes opened wide, her mouth parting in a grimace, the agony contorting her features.

"You. You were in the hall," she rasped, blood collected at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes widened and then they rolled back, and her body went limp.

She was losing too much blood, he knew he needed to move her, had no choice but to risk aggravating any more serious and unseen injuries, and he braced himself before gathering her in his arms. He carried her back off the street, into the cool darkness of the parking garage, the flourescent lights washed out her pale features and he made it to his car.

He opened the back door and set her as carefully as he could on the back seat. He drove away, his car lost in the chaos as alarms started blaring to announce the death of the leader of it all. He looked at the girl in his rearview mirror. "I'm Jordan."

His mom kept telling him it was a low profile. He had to stay under the radar. It did strike him as laughable, anyone who wanted to already knew his name. And yet, he was still here, like it even still mattered, attending an eight a.m college class, and living in his mom's house. The professor dismissed them in a commanding voice, and he jumped. He looked around him, the campus had closed one side of the ground off, had blocked off the ruined building and put up pretty new signs about what would be going in it's place. They were trying to repair the damage, and the rest of the students had been cramped in on the other side of the campus. He still flinched every time a door banged open, remembering the last time he'd been in this building.

He shuffled out of his class, head down, and wandered along the sidewalk. He was heading towards the the safe house, it somehow felt less claustrophobic than his own house, with his mom constantly asking him how he was doing. He knew she was trying to help, but her questions only made him want to retreat further into his own mind and he didn't want to snap at her.

He made it to the house, on the outside, another large house in the middle of suburbia, the same beat up gold Explorer sitting outside. He punched in the code that would let him in the front door, and he stepped in quietly, closing it behind him and looking around at the walls-still bare.

He started down the stairs, there was a training room of sorts down there, and he went everyday to learn, Michael was teaching him to fight, Ben was teaching him to shoot, Lilith let him play with knives. Sarah watched a lot. She didn't speak very much anymore, her brown hair was often tied back messily, and she looked worn down. None of them had been around much, especially since he'd learned they'd only been at the college originally because his mom had tipped them off. He didn't really think they would be able to return to normalcy anyways.

"Jace," Michael called. "How was school, kiddo?"

"Shut up, asshole," he yelled back, and it brought a smile to his face, in spite of himself.

"Ready for some training today?" Michael asked.

"Yeah, what fresh new torture have you got for me today?" Jace said, and Michael's smile gave him an uneasy feeling.

"Just some sparring, that's all. Work on your roundhouse kick. Maybe today you could actually land a hit on me, validate all my hard work," Michael said, and his voice was taunting. Jace rolled his eyes.

He stepped onto the mat in the center of the room, and he stretched, and that was a mistake because Michael took advantage of his distraction and aimed a punch to Jace's face. Jace caught his wrist and twisted and Michael groaned. Jace let him go and shoved him back harshly, and then struck out with his left fist. Michael just batted him away and they kept dancing around each other. Jace leaped again, throwing punch after punch until he heard Michael panting with the exertion of blocking him, and then he swung his leg up around, high, and the grunt told him he'd connected solidly with Michael's ribs.

Jace grinned in satisfaction. "Gotcha," he said as Michael stumbled back.

"Yeah, yeah, one in a hundred, don't look so proud of yourself," Michael tossed back.

"I'm gonna call it quits, tired and all that," Jace said. "I'm gonna take a shower, I'll see you around."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Jace," he started but Jace had already walked away, he didn't want to hear another placation. He was sweaty, sore. Tired. He didn't sleep much now, and it was starting to take its toll. He wandered back up the stairs and to the bathroom and he stood under the shower's spray, letting the hot water sluice over his skin as the minutes trailed by. He scrubbed his hands over his face, and for awhile, he just stood there, heart aching.

When he shut off the water, it had started to go cold, and he wrapped a towel around his waist and wandered aimlessly down the hall, toweling off his hair as he went. He paused in front of an unmarked, plain door, and his breath caught in his throat when he opened it. He sat on the bed and he looked around at all the photos tacked to the wall. There were so many, of Michael, Sarah, Lilith. None of Ben, none of him, and he wondered if he'd have made it there too, next to the people she held so dear.

His eyes pricked, and he thought, not for the first time, that he was being silly. He shouldn't be crying anymore. But he couldn't deny that his heart ached, and he longed for her touch, to feel her silky red hair, and to fall asleep next to her again. The room smelled like her, floral perfume, rose shampoo, and he laid down, his face pressed into the pillows.

When his eyes slid closed, Kaelie appeared before him. Her hair was soft, it brushed against his arms, the red ends tickled him, and her eyes- grass green, stormy blue- watched him with humor in her eyes. Her lips were painted burgundy and Jace noticed they were sitting on a bench outside of the campus library. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked him, her eyebrows raised.

"I missed