Title: They'll Bring No Flowers

Author: Sidnea Blackstone

Summary: A discussion that should have happened, but didn't.

She wasn't asleep her breathing was all wrong and her eyes weren't closed because he could feel them on him almost as tangibly as if they were her hands. He ignored her for the first forty minutes; after all she needed to sleep and he needed to finish these passports before his intellect melted away and started dripping from his nose.

"You got something on your mind, Doc?" He saw her flinch in fright at the sound of his voice; she had been doing that a lot. He would have to watch her closely for other signs of post-traumatic stress these last few days had been hard on her. She was used to microscopes and cultures and examination rooms not bullets, assassination squads and running for her life.

"You-," she stammered, "You said the recruiter added twelve points to bring your IQ up to the Army's minimum."

"Yeah," he answered even though she had not framed a question.

"But that would mean—," she started and then stopped embarrassed.

"That I was not about to give Einstein a run for his money," he joked lightly, but it hurt bone deep to think about his pre-Outcome self and the fact that the Doc was digging around in this little wound felt like a wire brush on road-rash.

"You have to understand," she pushed herself up to sit at the foot of the bed. "The breakthrough we made with the Blue trials was astonishing science and when saw the tremendous improvement, in Subject Number Five's IQ, a nearly 70 point increase, we knew the science was complete. We base-lined the study using Five's results and now," she laughed her face alight with excitement, "Now, to discover that it was actually an increase of more than eighty points. Do you have any idea what subject results like this could mean?"

He continued to work as she talked and the excitement in her voice was palpable, but he could not help but notice that she had slipped from speaking about him to speaking about Number Five. "You read a lot."

"Wh—what," she stammered confused by the non sequitur.

"Books," he clarified, "You must read a lot do you read many books?"

"I," she frowned, "I suppose I do."

"Well, I didn't," he fiddled with the wires attached to the disposable camera. "At least not 'til after the Blues," At her widened eyes he smiled and hurried on shaking his head as he worked, "I could read but I did not really comprehend a lot of what I read; understand?"

He glanced in her direction and watched her nod, "yes."

"Have you ever met any of the Governmental big-wigs," he asked as he went back to his work authenticating the passport in front of him.

"A few," she answered, sounding bemused by the conversation shift. "I had to do a few fundraising dinners in Washington to raise money to keep the program up and running."

"How about a guy named Col. Eric Byer," he asked as he worked. "He is retired now but he remains a prick in and out of uniform."

"Yes," she frowned, "I think I spoke with him and his wife at a charity dinner last Christmas, but I had no idea he was part of the program."

"That," Aaron said as he set her passport aside and pulled out his, "Is really funny because he is what some might call my handler but I guess when you are using cutting-edge science to reprogram soldiers to become killing machines it isn't something you talk about at a polite dinner party."

"Aaron," she murmured, but he continued as if she had not spoken.

"About three months ago I was on a raid that went sideways," he worked as he talked, his voice becoming soft as he remembered that day, "A lot of innocent people ended up dead and I was the one on the other end of the rifle…kids, Doc, and women."

Aaron put aside his tools and wiped his hands down his face trying to erase what had been forever etched in his brain and projected onto the back of his eyelids. It was impossible to escape because it was part of him now, like the Green had become part of him. Opening his eyes he studied the palm of his hand where a scar should have been but wasn't.

"He knew I had done something that sickened me and I was questioning what we were doing and Byer came out to the field to give me his idea of a pep-talk; which, pretty much, consisted of, you're here to eat shit so pick up that spoon soldier."

Marta shifted where she sat; the idea that her work had been used not to safe, but to destroy was becoming an uncomfortable fact gnashing at her brain. Turning toward her he could see that his words were upsetting her, but she had buried herself in that lab long enough. She needed to see the test subjects, see him, for what they are—Human.

"He asked if I knew what a sin-eater was; I lied," Aaron rolled his eyes at Byer's stupidity and continued, "I told him I didn't. I realized early on that it worked to my advantage if he thought he was smarter than me" Aaron laughed, "Told me that we are sin-eaters and he believed I was dumb enough not to know what he was talking about. What a stupid fuck; there was nothing ritual or self-sacrificing about what happened that day. He was spinning a web of shit and he expected me to eat it up. After that rousing speech he sent me on my way and told me to sew up my hand."

Her gasp stopped his words for a moment and he sighed at the tears shining in her chocolate colored eyes. She was finally seeing him for what he was, though, and he could not stop until he was one hundred percent sure she would not confuse him for a number again. "A few days after you finished your initial post operation exam I got a book in the mail; byer sent it. It was a story about a rat and a man that are given intelligence because of a scientific breakthrough. Do you know the one I'm talking about?"

"Flowers for Algernon," she whispered.

"Yeah," he nodded, "Only they won't be bringing any flowers if I start to regress." He wondered if she could hear the fear that thought put into his soul. Shaking off the blackness that threatened to over shadow him he told her, "Anyway, it, the book was a very subtle threat but I ignored it that day when I came in for the check-up. You seemed so—pleased that my hand had healed and I needed—I needed…"

"What," she asked her voice husky with unshed tears, "What did you need?"

Aaron had needed to know he was more than a laboratory rat someone would bury in a shoebox in the backyard. He studied her for a moment and shook his head letting a slight smile soften his next words, "I'm not just a science project, Doc."

The sob that tore from her throat was painful to hear and her eyes showed her horror at what she had become. Covering her mouth with her hands she squeezed her eyes shut. She could not look him in the eyes right now. She had treated him like an animal, no worse than that, like a number. She was trembling so hard that she was surprised the rest of the world wasn't shaking apart around her. Aaron moved quickly to kneel in front of her and take her hands.

"Hey, Doc," he murmured and gently rubbed his thumbs over her inner wrists. "Shhh," he soothed.

"What have I done," she gasped and when she saw him there at her feet, his face full of concern, she had to get away. Pulling her hands free she tried to evade him, but he wouldn't let her escape.

"You helped me," Aaron answered, earnestly. "You gave me a chance at a normal life. The others they might have moral qualms about what you did to them, but you opened my eyes and gave me something I never thought I would have."

"What," she asked bitterly, "bullets flying around your head?"

"Nah," Aaron shook his head, "that was a given the day I joined the Army, Doc."

Standing he pulled a chair over and sat in front of her. "You are a dedicated scientist and I know you want to help people."

"The science is," she shook her head. "I really believed it would be used to improve the quality of life of every human being; once it was thoroughly vetted…Not just the soldiers in the program."

"I know," he nodded.

"What happened after the check-up?"

"I went off-the-grid for a few days," Aaron sighed. "When I came back they locked me in the brig for a few weeks and then when they figured I had learned my lesson they dropped me in Alaska for a two week survival exercise with only enough Chems to make it one week."

"How did you," she asked eyes wide.

"I rationed them," he shrugged, "took half a pill every other day and when I made it to the cabin I scammed the watcher into giving me a few more. I take the last half in the morning."

"Are you sure," she asked, "that you want to do this?"

"They took everything from me," he could not keep the emotion from his voice as he thought about what they had asked him to do, "From both of us. It is time they gave it back."

Uncomfortable with the amount of emotion he allowed to show Aaron stood up and moved back to the table to finish the passports. Glancing at the clock he gestured toward the bed, "You should get some sleep, Doc, tomorrow is going to be a very long day."

"Okay," she nodded and slid backward onto the bed, "Good night."

"Night, Doc, " He murmured as he watched her settle onto her side facing him, but this time her eyes were closed and her breathing was less erratic. It did not take long for her to fall asleep this time and Aaron was glad of that, because Dr. Marta Shearing made him feel a little too intense and right now they needed his mind one hundred and ten percent on getting them out of this mess alive.