Survivor

                              Aggie tilted her gaze down to the word etched into the skin of her wrist in black ink — breathe. “It’s a reminder,” she says, fingertips brushing over the tattoo. “When things feel like they’re getting to be too much. It’s calming, you know?” With a heavy sigh she sits up, straightening her back. “Seems especially appropriate as of late.”

He had nothing but the numbers to his name and the haunted memories of Malacai Barlow in his head, the sole reminder that he couldn’t be anything more than a cloned version of the original. The real version was going on almost two decades gone, none existent other than memories and M021 had only taken his place to down punishments for long mistaken regrets. There was a fine line between him and Malacai but sometimes it wavered, it felt too thin and he felt more human than he was. 

It was a false sense of security as he struggled to survive outside of well, the same walls he’d been trapped in for years with nothing but hope that he could mend his Malacai’s mistakes and get a better life than that. Mal held onto the vivid memories of Elta, knowing, hoping that if he could find her maybe things would be better. After all Malacai had been incredibly significant in her life, what is the worst that could happen?

It felt wrong but somehow comforting to be in such an unfamiliar environment that still had so much significance. It would’ve been easier if she was there but it gave him time to process and observe carefully, wonder what could have happened in a much happier outcome than either of them were handed. Mal had been so tangled in his own thoughts (?) that the noise of the front door closing and foot steps had completely faded into the back of his mind only caught off guard by her face, turning with a  jolt to face her. 

Words could not gather properly upon his tongue, quite frankly, he had no plan of what to say to her no clue of how she’d even react. There had been no plan further than find her and not get recaptured in the process. The silence in the room, other than their breathing was tense and almost deafening. After years of hearing nothing but silence for once it felt suffocating almost inescapable. What does he say when technically he is but is not her dead husband?

“Through the front door.” Probably not the best answer he could come up with but it was the truth. “M021, but I’d prefer Mal.” M021 sounded so foreign and inhuman, even if he wasn’t it wasn’t something that settled completely right with him still.

      She could have laughed at that, some part of her wanted to let her guards down, lower the gun and laugh. As if this had been just any other day, as if he hadn’t been gone for more than two decades and she hadn’t been reliving his death each night as some sort of curse for omitting her identity to him back then. But it wouldn’t be just that easy, it couldn’t be. Her life wasn’t easy. No one’s was, but El seemed to carry some sort of bad luck charm that had led her to where she was standing today.

                                                           “ No, you’re not Mal. ”

The woman let out through gritted teeth, her hand tightening its grip on the gun. Fuck, how much she wished he was Mal – her Mal. But it wasn’t possible. Tears fell from her eyes and Elta didn’t know if it was due anger, pain or just plain happiness of seeing him again. Seeing his face again. “ My Mal died more than twenty years ago. So let me rephrase that. What are you and why are you h- here? ” Her voice broke at the end and she hated herself for that, she hadn’t been standing her for more than five minutes and she was breaking down already – close to it at least. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” The easy mask he’d learned to slip on to hide the exhaustion and the pain and the fear slid into place like a shield between himself and the world. Part of him hated it, but it was a necessary evil. 

There for a reason. 

Because nobody needed to know what was going on. Least of all someone he’d nearly mowed down by accident. “Just a long day, you know?” He smiled weakly, hoping it was more convincing than it felt.

Some days were better than others, and this had not been a good one. Axel was beyond exhausted, and he knew it was probably showing on his face. He had maybe an hour to grab some food and get back home, or he’d regret it and he knew it. 

The long days were taking a toll, and he was pushing himself too hard but Axel wasn’t sure he had a choice. This is what his life was, for good or ill. He was so out of it he nearly ran right into someone. 

Served him right, but still. 

“Hey, sorry about that, I wasn’t looking where I was going…”

Annoyed at almost being knocked over, though Elta was far more worried that it was an official than just a random stranger. Both her snark back at this person and the instinct of running away faded as soon as she noticed who it was. “ It’s alright. Don’t worry about it. Are you alright though? ” The woman asked as an afterthought, having be ready to walk away only stopping when realizing how tired the man looked.

         The events of that unfaithful day played like a broken record every second of her life. Haunting her, never letting her have a moment of ease. It wouldn’t be just the nightmares that plague her but everything in Elta’s day-in-day-out life. Every corner she’d turned, every noise she’d heard – every little scene that would play out before her, it would unfold a never endless set of memories she wished she could just make disappear. If only Elta had told him the truth, maybe none of what came after would’ve happened. Maybe Mal would’ve understood, or maybe he wouldn’t have – but Elta felt that had circumstances been any different, today she’d have her daughter with her and her husband as well.

Nothing but regrets plagued the woman and there was nothing she could do about it now but keep going. Even if taking a way out of this never-ending pain would be easier, Elta needed to keep going, for the memory of her husband and daughter.

Upon entering her home, Elta knew something was wrong. Though the front door of her residence had been locked, the inside of her place was different. As if someone had been there, as if someone else was still in the house. Her trail of thoughts now forgotten as she looked for the gun usually kept by the entrance. Though she despised using guns the woman needed to be prepare for anything, now she knew this. Careful not to make any more noises that she had already, the woman made her way into the living room area – much to her surprise it was empty. Soon she followed towards the kitchen – empty as well, and lastly towards her room. She was right alright, she wasn’t alone but who she saw there was not someone she expected to see – ever again. 

                                                                              “ M- - Mal…? ”

Despite her best choices, Elta found herself lowering her weapon. Frozen in place by the door of her room as she simply stared to who was – her husband? Elta had thought she’d seen him before all over the city, places where they would’ve frequented during those years he’d been alive. But the woman knew that was nothing but her own mind playing tricks on her. Pretending she saw him in a crowded room where she couldn’t quite pick him out of. But this, this was different. It was him, alone – in her house. Her house, because she’d left their own home at The Hive soon after his death. Not able to bare being all alone there, when he was no longer around.

Tears stained her cheeks, not even aware of them as she took one tentatively step towards him before stopping. It had been more than nineteen years since she saw him and every bone in her body screamed at Elta to run to him, hold him, hug him and never let him go. But this was wrong, he just couldn’t be here. Not when she had seen him died, specially how he’d died. So with all the willpower left in her, the woman wiped away the tears – raised her gun and pointed right at the man standing in front of her.