100 Original Fics: 078: Schisms (1/1)

[smokingmirror]

Title: Schisms
Series: 100 Original Fics
Character: Fox Maharassa
Author: Avarice
Prompt: 078 - Where?
Rating: R
Pairing: Fox/Collin
Spoilers: Utopia
Summary: Fox wakes up in the world of Utopia.
Word Count: 3323
Date First Posted: 09-01-2006
Date Revised: 01-06-2011
Beta: Tink.
Awards: -
Notes: Fox POV.
This line of thought requires a little explanation. Some time ago, I posed a question to Sandra: What if Fox woke up in Utopia one morning? Kailen from Utopia (heretofore referred to as L'Hssein :)) lives and was brought up in a world totally different to Fox. Change the environment and the context in which a person grows up, and they'll be different; hence L'Hssein and Fox. So... Fox being Fox, and Utopia being a nasty place... what would happen if he suddenly woke up there? There's no explanation as to why or how, it just happens. I guess this mirrors a bunch of fics that Sandra wrote about this time where -- again, with no explanation -- L'Hssein is in the FH universe. However for him, he is finally treated with love and gentleness and respect by Collin. This is obviously the better deal in any kind of switch. As you will read. I've got to say, I've never written much of Utopia Collin... but he was fun. He's such a manipulative bastard, there's subtext to everything he says and does.
Feedback: always welcome, as is constructive criticism.
Also Archived At: LJ

Waking up is a vulnerable time. When you're caught between the sleep you've been in and fully realising conscious thought, it's confusing and disorienting; the familiar turns scary and unfamiliar. Sometimes you don't remember where you are or how you got there, or whom you're with. I'm fortunate in that no matter the first two, the third is usually very consistent.

But sometimes you fight your way out of the confusion to find yourself in hell.

***

I'm awake, but keep my eyes closed. I feel lazy, lazy and comfortable where I am, a familiar back pressed to my chest.

He's really warm and feels good against me, my right arm draped over his hip. My stomach makes a faint gurgle, and I wonder what to make for breakfast. Collin leans his head back and I get a face-full of his hair. It smells a little different, like he's switched shampoos. I blow into it, sending fine strands swaying.

He purrs a little and turns around in my arms where his half-hard dick comes to rest on my thigh. I smile a little and my hand skims down his body to take hold of it. His purring gets louder as I stroke, and I can only imagine what his face looks like.

Collin shuffles closer, and his purrs turn into grunts of pleasure. "Boss," I whisper, and he makes a hissing noise that lets me know he's close. My hand moves in a constant rhythm, even with his erratic thrusts. I know just when he's going to finish and--

Pain, unexpected pain shoots through my palm, as though I'd thrust my hand into a box of nails, or been bitten by a snake. "Fucking hell! What was that?" My eyes are most definitely open now. I pull my hand out from between us, and three spots of blood are on my palm.

I want to ask Collin again, as he hasn't answered, when he looks up at me with large, amber eyes.

Amber eyes with slitted pupils.

Words die on my tongue and sheer instinct grips me in terror. I kick my legs out, catapulting my body out of the bed and onto the cold, hard floor. Not the carpet I was expecting, tile.

I land hard on my tailbone and it fucking hurts. But it's nothing like staring up onto that bed and seeing that... thing.

I've startled it -- him -- too. He's crouched in a defensive position on the mattress, knees up around his ears, tail thwipping angrily.

My god, he has a tail. And a pink nose, pointed ears (and teeth, from what I can see). His cheeks have stripes. I'd laugh, but I can see sharp claws as well.

Not Collin Not Collin NotCollinNotCollinnotcollin...

I scramble in reverse over the tile like some demented crab until my back hits solid wall. It gives me the opportunity to suck in a lungful of air, before the wall disappears from behind me and I fall backwards. It was a big round door or something, and opened when I touched it.

My head hits the tile on the other side and it leaves me a little dazed, but still functional. I try to get to my feet, but coordination seems to have gone out the window. Everything around me is blue or blue-green. The walls, floor, ceiling, furniture.

I look through the round door to see him stalk off the bed, tail still twitching and thwipping around his legs. He's naked and yellow and scarred and in no way human looking.

Scrambling for purchase, I finally get to my feet. I feel naked, although I wear the same pants I went to bed in (my own bed) last night. Normally I'm cool under pressure, but this is not a normal situation.

Every cell in my body is screaming for me to run, so I do.

It's a big room; I'm not halfway across it before I hear the voice.

"Where's Kailen?" It's hissed through pointed teeth and there is no question of the threat. It makes me want to weep, but not through fear.

It's Collin's voice. My Collin. It's enough to make me slow down and turn.

Something hits me in the shoulder as I do. It stings, but that is replaced by a feeling of terrible lethargy. My eyes blink, but they don't want to open again. I force them open. A dart is sticking out of my shoulder. I look up at him. He is pointing what looks like a fancy gun in my direction, something straight out of Star Trek.

"Mmm. mmmk.."

My tongue feels swollen and clumsy in my mouth. I try to answer him, but it doesn't come out right. "M'k... I'm Kaile--"

The world turns black.

***

There's a dull, aching throb on the side of my head as I wake. It pulses in time with my heartbeat and damn, does it hurt. I would lift my hand to feel the lump but don't. Not because I don't want to, but because I can't seem to move my arms.

Everything's blurred when I open my eyes, a smear of indistinct colours and shapes, and I definitely can't move my arms. It takes a few moments to place myself, but I am tied to a chair in the middle of the large, blue room.

Point of fact, I am facing a cushioned blue chair, and he is sitting in it. No longer naked, wearing a wrap of fabric around his hips. One elbow is resting on the arm, chin poised in his hand. I am being scrutinised.

He has the coldest eyes I have ever seen.

I inhale deeply, finding tight bands around my chest constricting my lungs. Some kind of rope binds me to the chair I'm sitting on. There's not a lot I can see apart from him and some scattered pieces of furniture, and what looks like a fish tank in my peripheral vision.

"What's your name?" I'm asked. My eyes are drawn back to the figure watching me. The voice... it's Collin's voice, with a slight lisp, almost like he was speaking with cotton wool in his cheeks. There was this one time when Collin went to the dentist and he was a little numb and for a few hours he spoke like--

He hisses. I didn't realise my head had started to droop. I feel like I have cotton wool in my brain.

"What. Is. Your. Name," he enunciates, no question inflection at the end of the sentence. I don't think he'll ask again.

"Kailen," I say, and my voice sounds different, "Kailen Maharassa."

There's a slight change. His eyes go a little wider, but he doesn't move. There's no noise apart from a bubbling that sounds like water. I am stared at for a very long time.

Eventually, he snorts -- a disbelieving sound. "You're not Kailen."

I laugh a little, kind of high pitched and not at all like any laugh I've ever done before. "Who else would I be? Been him my whole life."

Not-Collin just looks at me blankly, and I don't understand how he can know who I am but not believe it. "I'm Kailen Maharassa. Most people call me Fox, right? My dad, Padma, he invents stuff." I laugh a little again, and thankfully it doesn't turn into a sob. "He's actually better at blowing things up. My mom used to dance, but not in a sleazy way, that's how she met my dad."

He stares at me, eyes wider again, but I keep talking. "And I have an older sister. Fatima does science in the field. She's a pain in the ass, but she's my sister, and then there's my--"

I stop talking when he abruptly gets up. Looking suddenly ill and confused, he grips the chair arm to steady himself. I get a quick glimpse of things streaked across his bare chest, rows of exes -- I don't understand what they are -- and then he walks away. One of those door things opens and he disappears through it.

"I don't," I say, not very calmly, "fucking believe it." I'm in an empty room. "Are you just going to fucking leave me here?!" I yell at the now-shut door.

The light in the room I'm in flicks out.

I'm not in total darkness. There is a soft, flickering light source, and funny reflections play on my legs. They come from the pillars in the room, which are full of swirling water. Come to think of it, the mirrored blue tiles, the tank, the bubbling sounds and now the actual water... I didn't realise the theme of the room earlier.

Understandable, given I was running away from a crazy gun shooting cat guy who talks in my boyfriend's voice.

The ripples play on my body, and I give a deep shuddering sigh. My brain is trying to process the situation, but that's about as good as I can do. My head hurts, my arms and chest ache, my hand still stings. The drug in my system begins to fight me for control again, and I don't have the heart to give it a hard time. My head lolls forward again and I black out.

***

The room is lit again when I wake. The constant throbbing pulse in my head has receded to a disgusting, dull ache. I blink blearily. It's easier to lift my head now; the drug must be fading in my system.

Still tied to a chair in the middle of the water room. My arms are almost drained of blood and left foot has pins and needles. I stamp it on the ground and swear at the way it hurts.

"Are you hungry?" The voice startles me, and I crane my neck around.

He's there, wearing clothes this time; a pair of light coloured slacks and an off white buttoned shirt, long armed sleeves rolled to his elbows. His tail flicks back and forward in a gentle sway, nothing like the previous agitated movements. There is something in his voice that is different. It is softer, calmer, without the strains of the hysterical.

Well, that makes one of us.

"I brought you some food," he says, holding out his hands. They contain a few strange objects that I only recognise as fruit by their sweet smell. It looks like no fruit I've ever seen in my life.

"I'd rather have aspirin," I mutter. The words are almost drowned out by a gurgling growl. He smiles, just bordering on arrogantly, at me. My body betrays me nicely.

The fruit does smell nice, but I eye it warily anyway. I probably would have snatched it by now if my arms weren't damn well tied to my body. I struggle fitfully against my bonds. He looks at them, and for a moment I see him considering untying me. He smiles a little, and I think maybe he'll do it, but he walks away, disappearing from my vision. Again.

"No, wait, where are you going?" My voice is louder than I intended, but the uncertainty of being left alone again is far more daunting than being with him.

He comes back holding a short paring knife. Maybe I spoke too soon.

With careful strokes, the knife peels back the deep pink skin of the fruit. It looks fleshy and juicy, like a mango, but shaped more like a cucumber. He cuts a few slices and holds them out to me. After a moment of hesitation, I let him put a slice in my mouth, acutely aware that I saw claws not too long ago coming from the ends of those fingers.

The taste shocks me. It is tart at first, the way a grapefruit is. I screw up my face and nearly spit it out. "Wait a few moments," he tells me. I reluctantly keep it in my mouth. The tartness begins to fade, leaving a vague tingle on my tongue, and a sweetness that runs down my throat. It's very refreshing.

"It's a suetàn," he says. "They're not easy to come by." He offers me another slice, and I take it. "They do tend to make you thirsty," he adds, and I can see what he means. My mouth is dry. I am dehydrated and thirsty, and the sweet juice is just making me want more.

He disappears once more, returning with something I at least recognise. The glass is cool against my lips, and water washes down the sticky fruit. I try not to gulp, but it's hard. A trickle runs down my chin, and I wipe it away on my shoulder when I finish the water.

He looks on in approval, and I can't help feel stupid. I haven't been hand-fed since I was a child.

"I could do that myself if I wasn't tied up," I tell him curtly.

Smiling infuriatingly at my ire, he wipes sticky suetàn juice from his hands with a cloth. "You must understand this isn't an ordinary situation. I really don't know who you are, and can't untie you until I know you're not dangerous."

"I'm dangerous?" I almost can't sputter around the words. "You. Shot. Me."

"A tranq," he says dismissively. "Besides, I'm the one who woke in my bed with a strange man giving me a handjob."

I pause. The moment of waking next to him seemed like it happened a long, blurry time ago. In reality, it was maybe six or seven hours. I can't be sure; with no daylight or clocks to tell the time, it could have been more or less.

"So... you're not going to untie me." It isn't a question.

"Not right now, no."

The tones of his voice are familiar and yet alien to me. I dread the answer -- lest it be something I do or don't want to hear -- but ask anyway.

"Who are you?"

His yellow eyes give nothing away to me. "My name is Collin. Collin Sri'Vastra."

A breath I don't even realise I'm holding bursts from my lips violently. It can't be. But how many people in the world can have that name? How many with the same build and the same voice and the same hair?

I shake my head. "No."

"No?" He steps forward, curiously.

"No. You are not Collin Sri'Vastra." I am absolutely certain. Despite the similarities -- vague similarities -- the person before me is not Collin Sri'Vastra. My Collin never would have shot me.

"Your Collin?" He has moved closer again, searching my eyes. I don't realise I've spoken aloud.

"I-- what? No." I begin shaking my head. It starts as a small movement but develops into a large sweep that threatens to throw me off balance.

"I'm Collin," he tells me, and that just makes things worse. I squeeze my eyes shut and clumsily shuffle the chair away from him. He walks forward and all I can think about is getting away. I don't know how far I can get tied to a chair, but I'm willing to try.

"Hey. Hey. Hey!" There is some of that hard edge to his voice again at the third 'hey', and strong hands grip my biceps. I struggle against them as best I can, but there is nothing I can do. Whatever he does to me, I don't want to see it coming. I keep my eyes shut.

"If you calm down and give me your word you'll behave, I'll untie you."

I don't want to believe him and I don't want to open my eyes, but his grip tightens on my arms and he shakes me as he enunciates. "Do. You. Understand. Me?"

I open my eyes, and he is kneeling in front of me. I look down and I search for something familiar, at the same time hoping I won't find it. He doesn't look away once as my eyes rove every inch of his face.

"Do you understand?" he asks again, softly this time. I can't stand the quiet feeling in his voice. I let out a little sob as I nod.

He seems satisfied with the response and walks away again. The paring knife is retrieved again, and he holds it at the bonds just behind my left arm. There is a moment of hesitation where I feel the very sharp blade graze my skin. Then the tight rings encasing my chest are suddenly loose and I slump in the chair.

He puts pressure on my shoulders to hold me up, then half-lifts me out of the seat. One of my arms is flung around his shoulders, one of his goes around my waist, and he begins to walk me. "Where... are we..." I can't quite finish the question; I'm suddenly too exhausted to speak.

"The bathroom," he supplies. "You could use a wash."

"Thanks," I try to sound sarcastic. The corners of his lips turn up a little, but he doesn't say anything.

We make it to a room with an all-encompassing mirror, and what looks like a funky bath against the wall. He sits me down on the toilet seat and runs the taps in the pristine ivory tub.

I look into the mirror, seeing dark circles under my eyes. My reflection is obscured by a blur of yellow and he kneels in front of me, hands grabbing at the elastic at my waist. I grab his wrists and begin to push him away. "What the hell are you doing?"

I swear, the look of long-suffering patience wasn't there the moment I grabbed him, but whatever was there is gone now. "Do you really want to have a bath in your pants?"

"Yes," I tell him, stubbornly.

He rolls his eyes. "Fine." With a strong arm under mine, he helps me step into the tub. The water's warm and sweet smelling, and begins to soak through my pants, making them stick to my skin. It's somewhat uncomfortable and I feel like an idiot.

There's a cabinet under the sink, and he bends down and reaches into it. I get a great view of his tail swishing from side to side, and then he comes out with a bottle of stuff and a cloth, handing them to me. I reach for the items slowly, but end up pulling my hands back quickly, snatching instead of taking them gently. He doesn't seem perturbed.

Collin moves back across the room -- admittedly, the further away the more comfortable I feel -- and stands against the doorway, arms folded.

"Are you just going to stand there and watch me?" I ask.

"Nothing I haven't seen before," he says, dusting some invisible lint from his cuff.

He isn't directly watching me, so I begin to slowly scrub myself. I swear I feel his eyes on me every second. I want to take my soaked pants off, but not while he's there. He's making me feel like a sideshow. Or a criminal. Or both.

"Can you leave me alone?" I want it to sound abrupt -- I am not used to people watching me have a bath -- but my voice hitches in the middle. Makes me sound scared and nervous.

Gee, that can't be right.

He shrugs and pushes himself up from the wall. "Don't take long. I'll give you something for your head, and your hand." I'd almost forgotten the vague sting in my palm. I still wasn't even sure how I'd hurt it.

I plan to take off my pants the moment he leaves the room. As if reading my mind, he adds: "If you do decide to take off your clothes, I'll have fresh ones for you."

He begins to leave and then turns back slightly, enough for me to see his profile. "I'll look after you, Kailen."

With those words, he walks out and leaves me alone.

~finis