Sophinisba Solis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sophinisba) wrote2008-01-09 05:54 pm
sophinisba) wrote2008-01-09 05:54 pm
Homecoming part 6
The story takes a different turn in this chapter. :)
Title: Homecoming (6/8 or so)
Fandom: The Faculty
Pairing: Casey/Zeke
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1816
Summary: Casey and Zeke go back to Herrington for their five year high school reunion.
Notes: Story concept from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
layne67
Previous parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five.
Fucking forgiveness. Fucking getting along with people as if nothing bad ever happened. Fucking complacency, surviving an alien invasion and getting out of Herrington just to come back to the same fucking high school. Fucking straight people with their small talk and their cute little kids, and since when does Casey buy into all that? What if when they get back to New York starts talking about wanting children? He's never mentioned it before, but what if an evening with the Rosados changes his mind? They should never have come. Zeke hopes getting back to their tiny apartment will put the thought out of his head. Fucking Ohio and its wide open spaces, making people think they can do whatever they want and there'll always be somewhere to run away to.
Zeke doesn't want to go outside and he doesn't really want to see the biggest rooms in the school – the cafeteria, the gym, the pool. He heads to the other side of the school, walks straight down the hallway between the evenly spaced classrooms and lockers.
Everything looks pretty much the same, but Zeke spots changes here and there. Even at night the library is lighter and more open than it was. They've taken out a few bookcases to make room for more computers, and through a wall of glass blocks he glimpses another room full of them.
He tries the door to the faculty lounge and finds it locked. It probably wouldn't be too difficult to pick it open, but he doesn't really care to make the effort.
He expects the bio lab to be locked too, but the door handle turns with a soft click and lets him in. It looks different, like there's been more money spent here too. There are a few newish computers, and a more ambitious teacher's come in and put up displays – models of human torsos and fetuses and eyes and ears, with parts cut away and the inner workings clarified in primary blue and red. The only light in the room is the fluorescent white over the aquariums. Zeke leans forward to stare at the fish, again wishing he didn't have to see his own reflection in the glass.
"Son of a bitch, I knew I forgot something," Mr. Furlong says close to Zeke's ear.
Zeke scrambles so hard he half falls backward and knocks over the giant inner ear, catches himself against the fish tanks hard enough to spill water over the top. He sees his old bio teacher with a set of keys in one hand, the other one wrapped up in a clumsy white bandage. An eye patch over one eye, a smirk on his face.
"Zeke, come on, I need to lock up. I know you always liked bio, but it's getting late."
"This isn't your room," says Zeke.
"What?" He tilts his head.
"You don't teach at this school anymore. It's been Mr. Morales for six years because you turned into an alien and then I stuck a pen in your eye and killed you." He grabs another pen out of his pocket – yeah, he knew it was worth bringing extra tonight, just like it was worth carrying them around every single day for the last six years. He holds it up in a tight fist. "And I'll do it again."
"Oh, don't think I don't remember that." Furlong chuckles. "Hurt like a bitch too."
"I don't care," says Zeke. But what about the body? "I don't – " There hadn't been one, not for Furlong or Drake or Marybeth, not that Zeke had ever seen. Casey's theory was that they'd kept drying up until the dust blew away into nothing. Zeke's was that the FBI had taken them. Neither of them had ever doubted they were really dead.
Zeke is trying to talk tough but catches himself backing away. He's strangling with panic and makes himself stop and take a deep breath. His eyes are stinging again and he wishes he could close them for a minute, but these things move fucking fast, he remembers. "The fact that you're not real," he says, "will not stop me from slaying you like the righteous defender of humanity that I am."
"Go ahead then," Furlong says with a shrug. "Like I said, it hurt. But it's not like it's something we can't handle. I get the feeling it's not really what you want though."
"What?"
"Well, if you're intending to kill me, why are you still standing there talking?"
"Because I'm losing it?" He presses the heel of his hand to his forehead, blinks a few times, but Furlong's still standing there, shaking his head.
"Because you want a conversation. You want some answers. Well, here I am. Ask away."
Zeke backs away again because he's afraid he'll fall if he keeps standing here. The alien, or ghost, or hallucination, or what-the-fuck-ever, follows him, but slowly, allowing Zeke to put more distance and table-desks between them.
He keeps a tight grip on the pen. He can't think of anything to say.
"Fine then, I'll start," says Furlong. "How 'bout this: you could have stopped it sooner."
"What?"
"A lot easier too, with minimal loss of life and" – he looks down at his bandaged hand – "limb."
"I'm not letting the ghost of a fucking alien lecture me about what I should've –"
"Listened to Casey earlier instead of paying so much attention to Marybeth."
"Casey didn't know it was her either. I did listen to him, or I wouldn't have killed you."
"But you could have stopped it way before that, kept that thing from biting me. You were a better scientist than me. You should've recognized the signs, stopped me from putting it in the tank in the first place.
"What fucking signs? It's not like anything like this ever happened to us before."
"You should've stopped me, Zeke."
"Stop saying that!" Zeke yells, aware that arguing with the ghost of an alien is no less crazy than letting it lecture him, but he couldn't stand to let this guy have the last word. "You were the teacher."
"That never made you respect anyone's authority before."
"Don't bring Elizabeth into this."
"I didn't. I'm talking about Marybeth."
Zeke's back hits the wall and Furlong is still moving toward him. He fumbles behind him with his free hand and, yes, the door to the supply room is in reach. He opens it behind him, backs out quickly and slams it shut again, so hard he's afraid he'll shatter the door's window, but it holds. Furlong still watches him, and again Zeke sees the shadow of his own scared face in the glass.
And then he sees another face behind him.
"Nice to see you again," she says. "I've been waiting for you to show up here."
He whirls around to face her, holding up the pen again. "Is that really necessary, Zeke?" She smiles, lowers her voice conspiratorially. "You said yourself we're not even real."
It must be true. She doesn't even look real. Marybeth hasn't aged a day – same fresh face, wispy long blonde hair, a smile that flashes between shy and mischievous. It's become the stuff of nightmares for both of them, though Casey's are more vivid, more violent. Zeke's dreams never make enough sense to scare him that much. He'll up feeling wired and confused, glad he can't remember what he dreamed, and he never tells Casey why he's so tense on those mornings.
"I'm not scared," Zeke says.
"Of course not." She lunges at him and he stabs, but she ducks easily out of reach, laughing. "You're a lot less fun than the last time we were in here together!"
"I don't make out with alien monsters anymore. I stopped doing that a long time ago."
"Are you completely sure of that, Zeke?"
He tries again. Useless. She's way too quick.
"Don't you ever wonder about your little boyfriend?" she teases. "Don't you ever think he's too good to be true? He seems to have all of Herrington completely charmed. That doesn't strike you as strange, unexpected?"
"He's fucking charming, okay? It's the twenty-first century here."
"Just saying," she says with a shrug. "I mean, come on, it's not like you could tell who was an alien the last time we were in here together. Remember that, Zeke?" She steps closer and, heart pounding, he lets her. If they're touching, if she thinks he's going to kiss her, she won't be fast enough to get away next time. Marybeth says, "Don't those bug eyes ever seem a little…alien to you? Doesn't it make you nervous to be fucking something like that?"
Zeke raises the pen again, feeling her hand on the back of his neck. He ought to strike now, but he has to say something first: "No, it doesn't. Not ever. If you turned everyone else on this planet into pod people, I would still trust Casey Connor. So shut your filthy little –"
It's at that point that the fingers on his neck slither down under his shirt, and for two seconds all his firm resolve shudders into nausea. He starts to fall and she catches him in five places at once, and instead of shutting her mouth she opens it wide and the spike starts to grow out.
He's lost his grip and angle he needed to get at her eye. He jabs her where he can and hits her in the neck, hard and sharp enough to make a tiny puncture, but it closes up before his eyes. At the same time the spike reels back into her mouth, and her scream isn't quite human but Zeke can still here his name in it, and the note of betrayal. As if she has any right to be surprised.
She's weakened and Zeke gives her a shove that knocks her down. Her limbs and tentacles are flailing, knocking chemicals and specimens off the shelves and shattering their containers on the floor. He grabs the pen from where it fell. Marybeth's voice is weirdly calm and quiet when she says "You're wasting a perfectly good weapon on a drone. It's not me. It was never me."
Zeke doesn't waste time answering her with words this time. He kneels on top of her, pins her down, and before she can say another word he stabs hard, straight through the eye and deep into her brain or whatever lives in its place. The long tentacles wrap around him again but they lose strength as soon as they touch him. Zeke holds still until the shuddering stops and he untwists himself from the dried up stalks.
He falls back against the wall for a minute and then realizes he doesn't have time to rest. He stands up and looks through the door back to the bio lab. There's no sign of Furlong.
next part | series tag | fic index
Title: Homecoming (6/8 or so)
Fandom: The Faculty
Pairing: Casey/Zeke
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1816
Summary: Casey and Zeke go back to Herrington for their five year high school reunion.
Notes: Story concept from
layne67Previous parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five.
Fucking forgiveness. Fucking getting along with people as if nothing bad ever happened. Fucking complacency, surviving an alien invasion and getting out of Herrington just to come back to the same fucking high school. Fucking straight people with their small talk and their cute little kids, and since when does Casey buy into all that? What if when they get back to New York starts talking about wanting children? He's never mentioned it before, but what if an evening with the Rosados changes his mind? They should never have come. Zeke hopes getting back to their tiny apartment will put the thought out of his head. Fucking Ohio and its wide open spaces, making people think they can do whatever they want and there'll always be somewhere to run away to.
Zeke doesn't want to go outside and he doesn't really want to see the biggest rooms in the school – the cafeteria, the gym, the pool. He heads to the other side of the school, walks straight down the hallway between the evenly spaced classrooms and lockers.
Everything looks pretty much the same, but Zeke spots changes here and there. Even at night the library is lighter and more open than it was. They've taken out a few bookcases to make room for more computers, and through a wall of glass blocks he glimpses another room full of them.
He tries the door to the faculty lounge and finds it locked. It probably wouldn't be too difficult to pick it open, but he doesn't really care to make the effort.
He expects the bio lab to be locked too, but the door handle turns with a soft click and lets him in. It looks different, like there's been more money spent here too. There are a few newish computers, and a more ambitious teacher's come in and put up displays – models of human torsos and fetuses and eyes and ears, with parts cut away and the inner workings clarified in primary blue and red. The only light in the room is the fluorescent white over the aquariums. Zeke leans forward to stare at the fish, again wishing he didn't have to see his own reflection in the glass.
"Son of a bitch, I knew I forgot something," Mr. Furlong says close to Zeke's ear.
Zeke scrambles so hard he half falls backward and knocks over the giant inner ear, catches himself against the fish tanks hard enough to spill water over the top. He sees his old bio teacher with a set of keys in one hand, the other one wrapped up in a clumsy white bandage. An eye patch over one eye, a smirk on his face.
"Zeke, come on, I need to lock up. I know you always liked bio, but it's getting late."
"This isn't your room," says Zeke.
"What?" He tilts his head.
"You don't teach at this school anymore. It's been Mr. Morales for six years because you turned into an alien and then I stuck a pen in your eye and killed you." He grabs another pen out of his pocket – yeah, he knew it was worth bringing extra tonight, just like it was worth carrying them around every single day for the last six years. He holds it up in a tight fist. "And I'll do it again."
"Oh, don't think I don't remember that." Furlong chuckles. "Hurt like a bitch too."
"I don't care," says Zeke. But what about the body? "I don't – " There hadn't been one, not for Furlong or Drake or Marybeth, not that Zeke had ever seen. Casey's theory was that they'd kept drying up until the dust blew away into nothing. Zeke's was that the FBI had taken them. Neither of them had ever doubted they were really dead.
Zeke is trying to talk tough but catches himself backing away. He's strangling with panic and makes himself stop and take a deep breath. His eyes are stinging again and he wishes he could close them for a minute, but these things move fucking fast, he remembers. "The fact that you're not real," he says, "will not stop me from slaying you like the righteous defender of humanity that I am."
"Go ahead then," Furlong says with a shrug. "Like I said, it hurt. But it's not like it's something we can't handle. I get the feeling it's not really what you want though."
"What?"
"Well, if you're intending to kill me, why are you still standing there talking?"
"Because I'm losing it?" He presses the heel of his hand to his forehead, blinks a few times, but Furlong's still standing there, shaking his head.
"Because you want a conversation. You want some answers. Well, here I am. Ask away."
Zeke backs away again because he's afraid he'll fall if he keeps standing here. The alien, or ghost, or hallucination, or what-the-fuck-ever, follows him, but slowly, allowing Zeke to put more distance and table-desks between them.
He keeps a tight grip on the pen. He can't think of anything to say.
"Fine then, I'll start," says Furlong. "How 'bout this: you could have stopped it sooner."
"What?"
"A lot easier too, with minimal loss of life and" – he looks down at his bandaged hand – "limb."
"I'm not letting the ghost of a fucking alien lecture me about what I should've –"
"Listened to Casey earlier instead of paying so much attention to Marybeth."
"Casey didn't know it was her either. I did listen to him, or I wouldn't have killed you."
"But you could have stopped it way before that, kept that thing from biting me. You were a better scientist than me. You should've recognized the signs, stopped me from putting it in the tank in the first place.
"What fucking signs? It's not like anything like this ever happened to us before."
"You should've stopped me, Zeke."
"Stop saying that!" Zeke yells, aware that arguing with the ghost of an alien is no less crazy than letting it lecture him, but he couldn't stand to let this guy have the last word. "You were the teacher."
"That never made you respect anyone's authority before."
"Don't bring Elizabeth into this."
"I didn't. I'm talking about Marybeth."
Zeke's back hits the wall and Furlong is still moving toward him. He fumbles behind him with his free hand and, yes, the door to the supply room is in reach. He opens it behind him, backs out quickly and slams it shut again, so hard he's afraid he'll shatter the door's window, but it holds. Furlong still watches him, and again Zeke sees the shadow of his own scared face in the glass.
And then he sees another face behind him.
"Nice to see you again," she says. "I've been waiting for you to show up here."
He whirls around to face her, holding up the pen again. "Is that really necessary, Zeke?" She smiles, lowers her voice conspiratorially. "You said yourself we're not even real."
It must be true. She doesn't even look real. Marybeth hasn't aged a day – same fresh face, wispy long blonde hair, a smile that flashes between shy and mischievous. It's become the stuff of nightmares for both of them, though Casey's are more vivid, more violent. Zeke's dreams never make enough sense to scare him that much. He'll up feeling wired and confused, glad he can't remember what he dreamed, and he never tells Casey why he's so tense on those mornings.
"I'm not scared," Zeke says.
"Of course not." She lunges at him and he stabs, but she ducks easily out of reach, laughing. "You're a lot less fun than the last time we were in here together!"
"I don't make out with alien monsters anymore. I stopped doing that a long time ago."
"Are you completely sure of that, Zeke?"
He tries again. Useless. She's way too quick.
"Don't you ever wonder about your little boyfriend?" she teases. "Don't you ever think he's too good to be true? He seems to have all of Herrington completely charmed. That doesn't strike you as strange, unexpected?"
"He's fucking charming, okay? It's the twenty-first century here."
"Just saying," she says with a shrug. "I mean, come on, it's not like you could tell who was an alien the last time we were in here together. Remember that, Zeke?" She steps closer and, heart pounding, he lets her. If they're touching, if she thinks he's going to kiss her, she won't be fast enough to get away next time. Marybeth says, "Don't those bug eyes ever seem a little…alien to you? Doesn't it make you nervous to be fucking something like that?"
Zeke raises the pen again, feeling her hand on the back of his neck. He ought to strike now, but he has to say something first: "No, it doesn't. Not ever. If you turned everyone else on this planet into pod people, I would still trust Casey Connor. So shut your filthy little –"
It's at that point that the fingers on his neck slither down under his shirt, and for two seconds all his firm resolve shudders into nausea. He starts to fall and she catches him in five places at once, and instead of shutting her mouth she opens it wide and the spike starts to grow out.
He's lost his grip and angle he needed to get at her eye. He jabs her where he can and hits her in the neck, hard and sharp enough to make a tiny puncture, but it closes up before his eyes. At the same time the spike reels back into her mouth, and her scream isn't quite human but Zeke can still here his name in it, and the note of betrayal. As if she has any right to be surprised.
She's weakened and Zeke gives her a shove that knocks her down. Her limbs and tentacles are flailing, knocking chemicals and specimens off the shelves and shattering their containers on the floor. He grabs the pen from where it fell. Marybeth's voice is weirdly calm and quiet when she says "You're wasting a perfectly good weapon on a drone. It's not me. It was never me."
Zeke doesn't waste time answering her with words this time. He kneels on top of her, pins her down, and before she can say another word he stabs hard, straight through the eye and deep into her brain or whatever lives in its place. The long tentacles wrap around him again but they lose strength as soon as they touch him. Zeke holds still until the shuddering stops and he untwists himself from the dried up stalks.
He falls back against the wall for a minute and then realizes he doesn't have time to rest. He stands up and looks through the door back to the bio lab. There's no sign of Furlong.
next part | series tag | fic index
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*clings to the screen, wanting more*!! Holy-- GOD!!
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Unless everything is real of course. And the aliens are back ...
Oh please, please don't keep us waiting. This is a great, albeit unexpected development. Great job!
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*chews fingernails and waits for next installment*
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It is fun to be writing this again and lovely to have you reading. I really hope to have more to post in the next few days.
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""The fact that you're not real," he says, "will not stop me from slaying you like the righteous defender of humanity that I am."
Right on, Zeke! But I'm too scared to LOL! *approaches part 7 with trembling*
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