On Humanity

by Lin.exe

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NOTES: Thus continues my tradition of writing excessive notes before I even get to the story. The following is AU, but more of a branching off from the actual story than a characters-are-inexplicably-in-high-school-with-no-memory-of-their-previous-lives premise. Yes, they are inexplicably in a present-day North American high school, suspiciously similar to the one I attend. But they got there from some point in the canon universe… which I must admit I'm fairly bad with in the first place, as I haven't played the games in years and am going mostly on story summaries.

Oh, and if for some crazy reason someone here has read my X-Files fic "Thoughts From a Dark Place" and noticed I'm using the same ploy twice, I'll point out that self-plagiarism is probably the lesser of many evils. Actually, I'm thinking about establishing this high school as being in its own separate universe, into which I plan to bring established characters as I please. Meaning yes, Mulder and Scully are somewhere nearby during all this. Lucky them?

Though it might not seem like it now, this story will eventually be Rock/Forte yaoi. And by "eventually" I mean "within the next few chapters because I'm horribly impatient". Illustrations can be found at http://www.mediaminer.org/fanart/src.php?sort=dateD&s=&srcht=srcan&srch=lin.exe -- only one so far, and it's a preview of an upcoming chapter.

On with it, then! More notes in the next chapter (joy, huh?). Review, please?

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Rocco Lyman lay his head on his desk and sighed, finally giving in to exhaustion. It was unlikely at this point that this lesson was going to get any more interesting, and sleep was starting to sound like a damn good idea. He could already feel his mind shutting down; the bustle of classroom life fading and distorting in the background. He was beginning to get used to this feeling, he realized. Then all at once it was interrupted by a sensation, and a single thought.

He's here.

His mind's eye saw a dark figure silhouetted against the afternoon sunshine, entering like a storm through the school's front door. Rocco HAD also been getting used to the lack of these precognitive moments, as they had stopped with his arrival and transformation weeks ago. Yet here it was, and here HE was – the servant of the enemy was here.

He's taken the title "Ford".

Again, he heard this, but in his own voice. He just… knew. And now in his mind he could see fangs, and the red glint of eyes. Not a mark marred the figure's face, though, and that was different. Then again, though Rocco, everything's different here. A churning began in his stomach, and a tight feeling in his chest. He couldn't tell if it was some nervous reaction to this new development, or if "Ford" was somehow aware of him, and bearing his malice down on Rocco. He shut his eyes and listened to the roaring in his ears. Then, all at once, there was a bell – and the sensation ended with his class. Always careful not to attract undue attention, Rocco slipped quietly out with the throng and started down the hall.

He walked with a lack of presence characteristic of most teenagers, yet wholly uncharacteristic of his former self. He had learned to blend in since arriving in this strange world and age. He had a sickening feeling he would be forced to do so for a long time, as he had neither a clue how he'd come there, nor how to leave. At least Blues – sorry, "Bruce" – was with him, something which had kept him relatively sane and content until, oh, five or ten minutes ago. Now Ford was here, and although it did mean the link between his world and this one remained open, it also complicated matters considerably. He just hoped Ford had come unarmed.

A flash of purple appeared up ahead, and Rick tensed. These students cherished their hair dye as much as the next teenage rebel, but none had yet managed such a hue. It was HIM, and without some drastic evasive action, Rocco would be passing him in a matter of seconds. Their paths converged in the school's massive front foyer, and as they did so the two enemies' eyes met. Locked. They circled each other, tracing a wide orbit on the tile floor – each appraising the other's altered form. Ford looked as predatory as ever, and strong even in the body of an awkward adolescent. After a single slow circuit they halted.

"Hello, ROCK," said Ford, all but spitting the name.

"It's Rocco here, Ford," the brunette corrected him.

"Is it." Ford seemed particularly unimpressed by Rocco's use of the pseudonym.

"Why are you here?" Rocco asked.

"Wily sent me," Ford said with a coldness exceptional even for him. "To kill you."

Rocco swallowed nervously. "It's not quite so simple here. You can't just pull out your blaster in the middle of a school hallway."

Ford narrowed his eyes.

"No," he growled, "I can't."

He's unarmed! Rocco though with some amount of relief. He's human, and he's unarmed!

Sensing these thoughts, Ford advanced, seeming somehow to grow more imposing as he did so. He squared his shoulders and all but loomed over the smaller boy. Then, lightning fast, his hand shot out and grabbed the collar of Rocco's sweatshirt. Stars danced across Rocco's vision as he was forcefully pushed against a pillar, Ford's knuckles digging into his throat.

"But I can sure kick your little pacifist ass," Ford hissed.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the confrontation was over and Rocco was staring blankly at his opponent's retreating form. Back still pressed against the pillar, he let out a shaky breath and wearily shut his eyes. He couldn't understand why Ford had unnerved him so; he had always been a reluctant warrior, but never a cowardly one. Maybe the way his sense of reality had been turned on its head in the past few months had shaken him more than he realized. Or maybe it was this human body he occupied, so frail and prone to overwhelming emotion as it was.

"Heard you got yourself a gig tonight, bro," said a familiar voice.

Rocco's tension abruptly dissipated, and he turned to face his brother with a sincere half-grin.

"Sure did. The Larchwood Room, doors at six o'clock," Rocco proudly informed him.

"Bruce"'s expression changed, and Rocco realized his brother knew something was wrong. Questioning eyes peered over a pair of well-worn sunglasses. Rocco sighed, and gave in.

"He's here," he said, staring at the ground.

"Wily?" Bruce asked.

"No," Rocco shook his head, "Forte. He's calling himself 'Ford' and… well, he's unarmed, at least."

Bruce was silent, his thoughts likely following the same path Rocco's had. He wanted to leave this place just as much as his brother. Being the older of the two, however, he also had a tendency to be rather protective of his little brother. The fact that Ford was unarmed was good in this respect; that he was still willing to confront Rocco was bad. The question was rather to use Ford, avoid him, or fight him. Rocco was about ready to vote for "avoid".

"We'll discuss this later, okay? I'll see you at the gig tonight," said Bruce, squeezing the younger boy's shoulder then striding off down the hallway.

Rocco nodded pointlessly, then wandered off in the opposite direction. He hoped he could get to his locker and out of the school without running into Ford again. He knew they would be forced to face each other before long, but he was hell bent on delaying the confrontation as long as humanly possible. What WAS this sudden aversion to fighting the former Wily bot? Was it because he knew Ford wasn't a danger to anyone other than himself, making fighting him less significant than it used to be? He'd only really fought in the past in order to protect others, and now that Forte wasn't a threat to the general population, Rocco saw no point in fighting him.

It wasn't just that, though. "Reluctance" didn't really cover his reaction this time. It was something like… fear. But not fear.

Like fear, but not fear? Rocco thought. What's THAT supposed to mean?

Confused, Rocco retrieved his books and jacket from his locker and hastily exited the building. On top of the day's veritable mountain of homework he now had a show to play and some particularly conflicting emotions to work through. Such is the life of your everyday high school student.