Into The Dark

By 3Jane

Fandom: The Matrix

Pairing Tank/m

OK, standard disclaimer, I don't own Tank or the Matrix-concept. But I own Karma and all the other mean guys.

R for angst, violence and abuse.

"Nancy Garner!"

Graduation. I've made it! I'm sitting here with all my mates, waiting for them to call my name. Since this year they do the alphabet backwards, I'll be the last. How fitting: I've always been the last, the slowest, the oldest.

It's not because I'm stupid or - as they like to call me here - slow witted. But all the others here are pulled from the pods. They have jacks in their heads so they can pump information into their brains at dizzying speed. I have to _read_ and learn by heart. What they do in about 3 months takes me a year or so.

"Hideo Funemono!"

So I watched many of them graduate while I was still learning like crazy. But today is my day! I can see Gordon on his crutches sitting in the rows together with my sister and my big brother. They are damned proud, I know. I wish my parents could be here...

"Nicholas Chandler!"

I'm an awesome hacker, no doubt. And I've always dreamed of being a fighter, like my brother George. They call him Dozer out there! Still dunno if they do because he can look pretty tired or because he's build like a brick-shithouse.

"Michael Boudreaux!"

That's me. I get up and I surely grin like an idiot when I receive my diploma and my dispatching form. I am now officially an operator, and in three days from now I'll be on my first ship. Whoa! But first we'll have the ultimate party tonight.

I can hardly wait to run over to my people. When I finally do, they all embrace me. I lift up my sister and whirl her around. She is proud but also sad: she knows I will leave soon and may get hurt or even worse.

Gordon is an ever-present reminder: We had planned to graduate together, but I had been sick during the finals, so I had to repeat the last year. While Gordon lost most of his right leg during the first months out in the sewers.

Boy, that was hard on him! I mean, he's an impressive appearance: 6'4", slender, long jet-black hair. Quite a Casanova. And now he's 21 and crippled. Zion had lost one of its best pilots. If he's lucky they will give him a prosthesis and he can go back on duty instead of spending his life here, doing some job on welfare like most veterans. By the way: Gordon is definitely my best friend. We grew up in the same street on C-level. We know each other so well that most of the time we know what the other one is just thinking. Psychic!

First Day

There she is! The Mayflower. The ship I'm supposed to be the operator on. Here at the docks it is always very busy, ships coming and leaving, getting maintained. Damn bright lights all over the place and now that I am standing in front of that flying monster I feel very excited.

"Hey, what are you waiting for?" a red-haired guy calls down from the hatch, ripping me out of my reverie.

I hurry up the stairs, offering my hand with a smile. I'm a nice guy and most people like me - just as I like them.

"Hi! I'm Mich -errm, Tank." I have to get used to these aliases!

The guy just nods and turns away while he starts talking:

"Nop's the name. Come-on, I have to show you your room."

I follow him to a small single-room that is supposed to be my 'home' for the time being. I open the locker, but Nop wants me to come and see the captain first. I follow him, but I could have done the search myself: most ships are built the same way so if you change the ship you don't need to study the blueprints to know where to find the mess or the bathroom.

*

My captain: Karma. A bit shorter than I am - 5'10" maybe - piercing blue eyes and black hair, the usual pale white skin. Quite a remarkable mixture. He's matrix-born. For some biological reasons I don't quite understand most Matrix-born people never develop a good build. They always stay skinny and don't have good articulation or stamina. Physically they're rather weak.

I am 6' and all muscles. I'm not narcissistic, but the looks I get speak their own language. I've always been a good wrestler at school.

But it wasn't too hard to defeat the skinny 'pluggies'.

And like most of them, my captain is skinny, the plugs in his arms standing out from his sinewy arms like what they are: artifacts. He musters me thoroughly.

"Zionist?" it's not really a question.

"Sir, yes, Sir!" man, I'm nervous.

"Well, welcome aboard. We got quite some work for you. You're dismissed." He turns back to his papers.

I give him a proper salute and leave to unpack my stuff.

The First Week

We leave soon after and I get a short introduction to what this ship's task is and what the operator's task is here. Not too thrilling: maintain the system and grant successful re-boots when
they have to down the system due to sentinel-attacks and use of EMP.

Man! I can re-boot these babes even while in a coma! I can dictate you the bootstrap without seeing the panel, which isn't too easy, but once you really understood what you do, it's not a miracle at all.

The Mayflower will be out for a long time, do cartography work of unknown - or better forgotten - parts of the sewer-system. Most time they'll be out of reach of any transmissions.

But I'm lucky: I get a last mail from my friend before we're out on our own, on the second evening. Nop carries it in to the mess while we're all sitting at dinner.

We, that are:
Karma, the captain
Nop, the mechanic
Jazz the pilot with ash-blonde hair that stood from his head in spikes.
Blast, Krash and Lightning: three fighters.
And me.

An all-male team and all but me born on the fields. Harsh guys with rude manners, marked by the life out here. There we sat when Nop came in, holding a sheet in his hands.

"You got mail, Tank!" He calls out but won't hand me the thingy.

Instead he starts to read it out loud. What an asshole! This is private mail. Well, I'll just sit and let him do it, if that's what he wants. No need to argue on the first week.

" 'Dear Mike! I hope you get this before you are gone for the next months. I'm very sorry I couldn't come to your farewell-party, but you know how my parents overreact sometimes. They are happy you're gone and they think I'll be back to 'normal' now. They will never understand that I'm just gay and nobody's to blame. Especially not you! I will positively miss you and wish that you're going to find some delicious guy out there to keep the cob-webs off your sweet butt. Love ya lots, Frank.' " I could see Nop's face twist with disgust as he went through the letter. Now he dropped it, "Oh man, a fag!"

"Why do you call me names?" I ask Nop. At Zion people are tolerant. You can be what you want to, as long as you don't cut in on other's rights. Do what you want, believe what you want, be what you want.

"Man, are you really a fucking shit-eater? Jeeze, I can't believe what they sent us!" Krash slaps his forehead.

The others stay quiet.

"I'm into guys, yeah. But I don't eat shit or whatever you think. I mean, I don't call you bloodsucker, only because you're into women. It's just as clean." I try to explain to them that there's nothing to be disgusted by or so.

"Watch your tongue, Tank! Don't ya ever compare me to your perverted acts!" Nop growls.

It's hard to believe. They act so homophobic like I've only heard of in the stories from people pulled off the Matrix. In fact, I only came to know that word - homophobic - when I met a nice Matrix-born guy at the 'RatKing'. That's one of my hangouts at Zion. A place where you go when you want to be sure not to bump into straights.

The rest of the dinner passes in silence. But I'm positive they will find that I'm just another guy and a good operator. They don't have to have sex with me - I'm here to fight for a common goal - nothing else. And they will come to like me and maybe forget their fears.

The First Month

I haven't yet taken place in the operator's seat. They have a lot of things to do for me: clean the recycler, the bathrooms, the showers. Do the dishes and the laundry, mopping up. In fact since I came here the ship has become much cleaner! It was a really filthy place and I doubt they all go and shower daily.

Somehow I get the impression that they do their best to keep me busy.

It's hard to imagine somebody can soil a toilet like this and not do it on purpose.

This morning Blast came up with a blanket, handed it to me and told me to wear it as a skirt, since I was such a fine lady.

I was close to let him taste my fist. But that wouldn't help. I just ignored him and went to work. Now I've just finished the weekly recycler-checkup and soak in the spray of the shower. It's a good feeling to get rid of the dirt and sweat of a long working day and I'm humming a melody.
As I step out of the cabin, Nop, Krash and Blast are there.

"Hey Cinderella!" Nop grins.

I ignore him. That's not my name. I'm a bit afraid of what they are into right now. I get me a towel and start drying myself. It's strange to do so under their watchful eyes. Not that I'm shy. I have a good build, but it's a bit different if you know you are watched by _hostile_ people. At least that prevents me from embarrassing situations. With my actual state of mind I wouldn't get hard, no way!

Then I realize I can't find my clothes. They're not where I hung them on the hook. Blast has his hands behind his back. I stretch out my hand.

"Gimme my clothes, Blast."

"Dunno whatcha talkin' 'bout." Blast doesn't stir.

"Listen, it was funny, OK. But now give me my clothes back, it's getting cold." My hand is still stretched out, waiting for what is mine.

"Here, honey: your skirt!" Nop slaps a blanket powerfully at my chest, "Put it on, Cinderella!"

"Fuck off -" but they catch me completely off guard, a fist rams into my lower ribs and I double over. Suddenly they are all attacking me.

It's my luck that I stagger backwards into a corner, so they cannot get at me at the same time.
But the first blows were hard and I am struggling to keep my stand.

Finally they leave me alone, commanding me to put on that skirt.

Like hell I will!

Slowly I check my body: nothing broken, it seems. Only my ego, maybe...I cuddle up in my room. That small, dark, cold, lonely room.

First had had been disappointed because it was a single room. Meant no chit-chat with anybody. Now I'm glad I don't have to share it with one of them!

Second Month

They all call me Cinderella now. We had a rendezvous with another ship that brought provision for us. I did most of the work while the others were mostly chatting with the other ship's crew. Not that I wouldn't have liked to hear the newest gossip, too!

That was three weeks ago, and since we haven't had any contact with other ships. The Mayflower doesn't go to Zion too often - would take too much time to go to and fro, they say.

I could spend two graveyard-shifts at the consoles, but since this ship isn't searching for potentials we hardly ever watch the Matrix.

At least I could fiddle around with the computers, write some small programs. That's all delight I get here. They are unfriendly and even my attempt to complain at my captain hasn't helped.

Karma mumbled something about tough guys and rough jokes and that I shouldn't take it too serious.

Their 'jokes' are sometimes raw physical attacks, sometimes mean things like flushing the toilet while I clean the recycler or throwing dead roaches into my food.

War-wise nothing ever happens.

Third Month

"Damn! I just can't find the bug!" Jazz curses.

"Stop wailing and get to boot this cursed system!" Karma kicks Jazz butt who crouches on the floor.

We had been attacked by four sentinels and they had shut down the system to use the EMP. Now they are trying since three hours to re-boot the system. Without the computers we're deaf, blind and mute. We must re-boot them, pronto.

Finally I cannot longer stand in that corner and watch them. They can't even enter the proper bootstrap, although they have the manual!

"Let me do that, OK?" I still try to be nice and friendly. I have sworn to myself that I will not allow them to break me. My ancestors have gone through much harder, longer ordeals. I owe them to get through this with as much dignity as possible.

Jazz is about to throw a wrench at me but Karma stops him with a single glance. Asshole or not, this guy controls these people absolutely. His word is their gospel.

And I re-boot the babe! On the second attempt I have the kernel up and it starts to mount its devices. Long lists of stats-info scroll down the screens. I know by heart what to do. A few minor problems due to obsolete drivers can be solved within half an hour.

180 minutes after I had loaded the bootstrap the ship's system is up and running. Considering the badly maintained components this is surely a record.

I didn't assume to get a praise from them, and there comes none.

For two days they didn't bug me after that.

By night I am often awake, thinking of Zion, my friends there and the warm, loving people. Sometimes I cry until I fall asleep. I haven't known how lonely a man can be.

Fifth Month

I have lost weight. Not because they withdraw my food. But I am so terribly lonely, so deprived from any positive social and physical contact, I develop a nervous stomach and often can't keep my food.

They beat me more often these days and sometimes I'm so weak and tired that I do wear that skirt because they will not bug me then.

These are days I can hardly stand my face in the mirror, when I would give a finger for a friendly word, a hand for a loving embrace!

I spend more or less all my time off in my cabin, the door locked. This is the only place they have never gotten to so far. My castle, my refuge. I have given up hope we will ever make friends and the next time we meet another ship, I will try to stay there. My body is covered with bruises of all ages, they should believe my story.

Every now and then I manage to put an old sheet aside, so I can draw a picture. But they are terrible: I can't seem to sketch anything positive these days. All I manage is angry grimaces.

Slowly I get used to the constant pain. They rough me up at least once a week. They never appear alone - they are still afraid because I am still stronger than one of them. But they seem to pop up out of nowhere, no matter where I am or what I do. Sometimes I just don't want to leave my room. I have tried, but the broke the door open and kicked me out into the hall. Then they sealed the door and I had no place to sleep for three nights.

I cannot escape them.

I have stopped talking. There's nobody to talk to and nobody who'd listen anyway.

Instead I have trained my mind to fly: what they provide as work for me doesn't keep the brain too busy. So I let my thoughts fly home, dream of places to be and things to do, of loving people and friends. This is my escape, and they cannot take this away from me.

Seventh Month

I am sick. My body aches all over and I have at least two broken ribs. They had tried to make me eat their feces. But not all their kicks and curses could make me do so. Finally they closed my nose and waited for me to open my mouth. I didn't. I was stronger and finally faded.

When I woke up, I was covered with it. I was so disgusted that I puked where I laid. In the shower I took off the soiled clothes and scrubbed my skin like crazy.

I can't seem to get rid of the stench, the feel. Even now, hours later as I lie on my bunk I can still feel and smell it.

I will not wait until we meet another ship or get home. I will run away if there's any hope to get away with it. I don't know how much longer I will be able to stand this.

I want to be dead.

I wish I could cry, but there are no tears left. My body is sore and my soul is numb. I know that I act more like a robot than like a human being.

I had never thought it could be like this!

I was aware of the dangers of fighting in a cruel war. But there have always been friends around. I have never been alone. I can hear them sitting in the mess, joking. I hear their laughter and long to be with them, to end my isolation. Although I know they don't accept my presence. I stick to myself whenever I can, dreaming of better days.

There must be a better time to come!

Without that hope I'd be dead, I'm sure.

Eleventh Month

This morning I attacked Nop. He had come to the bathroom when I cleaned it and he directly pissed over my hands. With a growl that sounded like nothing a human throat could produce, I jumped from my crouching position and slammed my fist directly into his face, breaking his nose and smashing him against the wall.

I wiped my hands off on his sweater, washed them and left him wailing in the corner.

Now as I do the laundry, I make plans for my escape. I have attacked one of them and they surely will not accept that. And I'm not in the mood to wait for their revenge! I have to leave tonight. I could take along some of the dried goods and some water. Zion is very far away!

But at school you make survival-training and I just have to remember what they taught us there.

Desertion. They will incarcerate me for that. Anything will be better than this ship. What a nightmare!

I like doing the laundry. It's by far the cleanest and warmest room on the ship and the smell of freshly washed clothes and curd-soap is strong here. And they seem to avoid this room for whatever reason.

The door opens and Karma enters, followed by Krash, Nop and Jazz.

"What did you think, Cinderella, to attack my first in command?" Karma snarls.

And without a warning, all four of them are over me, beating me until I go down, kicking me into the kidney, against the head, everywhere.

All I can do is lie there, rolled up and covering my head with my arms.

Out of nowhere a knife appears. They pull me up and cut my pants open, pulling them down.
Gracious Lord! "No!" I whisper hoarsely.

They throw me over a stool, pulling my legs apart until it hurts. The blade is on my throat and for a second I take into consideration to push my throat against it to end this finally.

But I want to live!

God, I am only 20 years old, I want to live and love!

What did I do to deserve this?

They take turns. My screams fill the air. No pain like this!. At some point the pain is so bad that I fade.

As I come to, I don't move. I just lie there and listen to my body.

Pain all over. Like fire shooting through my body, throbbing. If anybody would have told me how many variations of pain somebody could feel all at once, I would have laughed. But this tops it all.
Blood trickles from practically every opening of my body, I spit out a tooth. My lower lip is split. I struggle to my feet. I feel dizzy and have to steady myself. Half naked I'm crawling to my room.

This is hell, no doubt. I only wish I knew why I was sent here. But if this is hell, I can't even die to put and end to it...

The End

Glaring light blinds my tortured eyes. I raise a hand to protect them.

"Get up, pack your things. You'll be taken to Zion and answer for your attack against an officer!" It is Karma.

I don't move. I don't care. Let them dump me right here or shoot me - what difference would that make?

Karma kicks against the bunk, "Get up, Cinderella! The other ship can't wait."

Other ship? I will get out of here? Oh my gosh! As fast as I can - which is not too much in my state - I pack my bag. Karma leads me to the main hatch. I can see another ship is docked. I walk over and Karma bid his farewell, telling them to be careful because I am dangerous.

Leave a Light On

"Come-on. The captain wants to see you." A bald white man with a goatee leads me to the captain's room.

There I stand, staring at the floor. No salute. No trust.

"You attacked an officer, Tank? I should lock you up, that's the routine. But I will give you another chance. You may move free on this ship as long as you are obedient and behave yourself. Anything you have to say? Tank?"

Still staring at my toes I neither answer nor do I acknowledge what he said with a nod or so. I am tired and aching and I don't want to see nobody.

The captain sighs.

"Cypher will show you your room. That's all for now." I'm dismissed. The other guy shows me a single room and I collapse on the mattress.

*

I didn't move for about 20 hours, I think. I am terribly sore and don't want to move, but my body has needs: I need to go to the bathroom. But I don't dare, am afraid of the pain. I am sure my
rectum is ruptured. I wait another hour, then it is simply too urgent. I go to the bathroom and it hurts like hell! I nearly scream.

Then I crawl back to my room and fall asleep again.

The next time I wake, there is some food on the floor. The mere look of it makes me sick. I have a fever. I need medical help. I should go and see their medic. But every move hurts so badly, I don't know how to get there, really.

But of course I don't die of it. I manage to enter the core and move to the med-bay, only to find it empty. But voices from the mess make me turn and I walk over and lean against the door-frame, asking them who would be the medic.

My lip is so swollen my mumbling is hard to understand. They all stare at me, mouths agape, eyes wide.

The medic is a rather old fellow - in his late forties. There was no need to ask for him: as soon as he sees me he jumps up. "Gracious Lord, lad, what happened to you?" the man leads me to the
med-bay and closes the door behind us.

"I had a fight." Mumbling with a sore throat.

"Didn't your parents teach you that fighting millstones is of no use? Take off your sweater, please." The man tries to cheer me up. But it doesn't reach me.

He checks my face and says the nose might be broken but since it's not dislocated the best would be to simply leave it alone. He finds two cracked ribs and countless bruises - of course. When I tell him about my tooth, he asks me to sit under a lamp.

"I can't, Sir. I think that I have a rectal rupture. I was bleeding, you know? And it hurts, Sir."

He gives me a strange look. "Would you then take off your pants and underwear and lie down on your stomach over here?" He points at a stretcher.

I comply, undressing with stiff limbs. The stretcher is cold and I shiver as I lie down on it. He doesn't touch me.

"Boy, I need to get some stuff from the loading bay. I'll be right back." He covers me with a blanket and leaves the room.

Minutes later he's back. I can hear the door open and close again behind me. But he's not alone. He lifts up the blanket. I feel terribly exposed. "I want you to witness this, Morpheus. These bruises are of very different ages. - Tank, did you have more that that one fight?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I don't want to hurt you, Tank. Try to relax."

Then his hands touch my butt, spreading me open. Panic gets a frim grip on me:

They are going to do it again!

With all strength that is left in me I whirl around and try to beat him while I scream at them. The medic jumps backwards as the other man gets hold of me. His arms embrace me like steel bars. I struggle to get free but that's of no avail - he is so much stronger.

"Don't you touch me! Don't! Please..." I stammer on and on. Suddenly I feel very weak and tired, guess they have injected some drugs.

In the short moment of calm, just before I fade I can see the medic's face: very pale and sad. And from behind me, the man who still holds me tight is talking to me: "It's OK son. Nobody's going to hurt you here. Don't worry, you're safe..."

Week One

I have no idea how long I was knocked out. I am still in the med-bay, and can remember several half-wake moments when somebody was feeding me or otherwise caring for me. Looking around I can't see anybody and the door is closed. The fever is gone and the pain too, more or less.

Raising my hand I try to touch my nose. There's an IV ending in my vein, but I can't read what it is. Not that it really matters.

The door opens and I can see the captain coming in with the medic on his heels.

"I am Morpheus, the captain of this ship. Do you remember?" as I nod he continues, "How do you feel today?"

"I'm not sure, Sir." My voice sounds less hoarse but my throat is dry, "Please, could I have some water?"

They patiently wait until I have swallowed a whole mug of water.

That's good, just what I needed.

"Tank, will you tell us what had happened on the Mayflower?" Morpheus asks me. He comes directly to the point. I don't; turn my head away.

There are a few minutes of silence, only the sounds of the medic who's working in the background are to be heard.

"Tank, while you were here we took X-rays and they tell a story. I ordered your file from Zion and I cannot believe you attacked an officer without being forced to do so in a way." Morpheus goes on.

What does he want? He wouldn't accuse another officer anyway. What would it change if I'd tell him about the past months? Nothing.

"Tank, we can't help you - " Morpheus takes on again, but I cut him off.

"Help me? Who do you think you are?" I am terribly angry, "Can you give me that tooth back? Can you make me whole again, huh? You cannot undo this humiliation and neither can I. So I prefer to forget about it. I don't want your help and I don't need it!" my glare cannot stare him down, so I turn away and close my eyes to make Morpheus understand I consider this conversation to be ended now.

Week Two

I am healing slowly. At least my body is. Tonight I decided for the first time to participate their common dinner in the mess. They try hard to behave normal, but I can feel they don't really know what to do or what to talk about. I can see in their eyes they know what had happened. Good. Then they'll know also that I'm no longer willing to swallow.

Across from me sits a teen, hardly 15 years old and obviously all skin and bones. His name is Mouse - really fitting! He fires away with questions and strange theories that make me smile now and then until the guy to my right - Apoc - tells him to shut up. Just like this. Two words and Mouse shrinks, visibly retreats into his too big clothes, muttering under his breath.

Most of the conversation is between the medic - they call him Fitter -and the two women who belong to the crew: Trinity and Switch, now that Mouse has stopped talking.

After about an hour they disappear one by one. There's nothing for me to do, so I stay on my place. Finally I am alone with Morpheus.

"You're an operator, right?" he asks me.

"Yes, Sir."

"I thought we could need you. If you want to, I'd like to keep you on this ship." Morpheus tilts his head slightly, waiting for my answer.

Stay here? I don't know. I didn't like the way Apoc and Mouse acted during dinner. I could perfectly see me in that picture. And here I am again the only free-born. Why should they be different?

"I'm not sure, Sir. Can I think it over?"

"Of course you can. Will you work with us in the meantime?" his face lights up a bit.

"Sure, Sir. Thank you for the offer."

First Month

They seem to be rather nice people here on the Nebuchadnezzar. So far nobody ever said anything negative about free-born. But I am still cautious and won't tell them I'm gay. We work and eat together and sometimes Mouse or Trinity comes to my room to chat.

Mouse wants to learn more about computers. He sucks up everything I can tell him like a dried sponge. He's a funny guy and really obsessed with computers. He is already coding for the construct, and he does it rather well - as far as I can tell from outside.

Mouse hardly ever keeps his mouth shut and slowly I can see why Apoc sometimes silences him. But he has funny ideas about things and he makes me laugh more and more often

Cypher is a cynical man who tends to stick to himself. But he tries to be nice.

Second Month

"So what type of gal you prefer, Tank?" Mouse is asking. This is the type of guys' talk that really bores the shit outta me. I mean, I get along with women. Some of them at Zion are my closest friends. But now I'm sitting here with the others and they are dreaming of things only a straight man may understand. What to say? I would have never thought that I would conceal my preference in men, but the past year has told me it might be better.

"Ah, you know, the body is not so important." That's a good answer, I guess. Quite wishy-washy.

"Yeah, in reality! But what if you could _choose_ the chick of your dreams? Whaddaya like? Big boobs? Or more the androgynous ones?"

Cypher's gestures make clear what exactly he means.

"Chocolata!" Apoc sighs, "no matter what build." His eyes are watching me.

"Watch it, Apoc, Switch may hear that!" Mouse giggles.

"Reminds me..." Apoc grins and leaves the room, not without a mock slap on Mouse's head.

Ah, damn! I have no idea! I can't relate to the things that drive them on! Whatever they tell, it's exactly what turns me off. Big boobs! Heavens, no! I should leave, the sooner the better.

"I'm tired, folks. Night." I hurry out of the room.

"Not exactly your subject, huh?" Apoc stands in the hall and grins mockingly.

"What you mean?" My heart skips a beat. Do they know? Was that a test?

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Tank." Apoc whispers and disappears in Switch's room.

Third Month

Things are much better by now: I can eat like normal, my stomach takes everything without complains. I'm gaining weight and muscles again. All bones are healed.

I like to be with the new crew. I've signed a contract for this ship.

Especially with Trin and Mouse I spend a lot of time. They're like sister and brother to me.

Slowly I come to realize how much I had changed during the time on the Mayflower. How much of a shell I had built up. Now it's cracking and falling apart again. I am changing back to my old self and that feels good. It's like stretching after sitting for too long in a too small chair .

Only nights like these, when Switch is with Apoc in his room - right beside mine - are hard. They are not exactly quiet and the inevitable sounds of lovemaking outline my own loneliness in a rather
cruel, painful way.

I realize that it has been more than one year since I had sex for the last time. One year! Back at Zion one week would have been a catastrophe. Well, on the Mayflower there had been nobody I fancied.

They were dirty and mean. But here it's different. There's somebody on this ship... But I can't. For several reasons: it would mean I had to out myself and besides he's definitely off limits.

I cover my ears with my pillow until I fall asleep.

Fifth Month

"What do you think?" Apoc asks me. We are watching a potential during a night-shift. Apoc couldn't sleep and decided to come and chat a bit. The operator's chair has become my second home, so to say. I am happy here. This ship makes up for what I have been through before, no doubt.

"Ah, forget it. She's just fooling around in that chat-room." I want to change the scene, but Apoc stops me.

"Wait." He puts his hand on my forearm to keep me from typing.

And then he leaves it right there. That's a nice feeling and it produces goose-bumps on my back. He gently squeezes my forearm, "Aren't you lonely, Tank? All these dark nights you're alone in your bunk..." Apoc whispers.

Oh my gosh! What is happening here? Slowly I pull back my arm. Not that I like doing it, but I cannot allow this to happen. A profuse blush covers my face. This was the first touch in a very long time and I am completely startled.

"What are you doing, Apoc?" I try to sound as puzzled as possible.

Oh, how I crave for contact! It takes all control I have not to throw myself into his arms, to finally feel the warmth of another body against mine. What an irony: I cannot allow myself to get what I want and need because I need to protect myself. From what? What for?

"You know exactly what I mean, Tank." Apoc rises and leaves without another word.

For days Apoc tries nothing and this makes me belief it had been nothing but another test. But by night I'm haunted by dreams. I could drown in his eyes and I would want to wrap myself around him like a blanket to keep him warm. To keep me warm. There's only tiny gestures that might mean something, but then they may not.

I wake in the middle of the night, realizing somebody's in my room.

My heart beats like crazy and it takes some seconds to realize where I am and who it is. Apoc, sitting on my bunk!

"Easy, Tank." He whispers.

I fall back on the mattress, "Man, you scared the shit outta me!"

Apoc's hand is on my shoulder and slowly slides down my naked arm, making me shiver with pleasure. What does he have in mind?

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to scare you." His voice is so soft, it is as much of a caress as his touch. I am melting. How much I need this I realize only now. Apoc's hand cups my face, caresses my throat, "I wish I could mend your soul."

Something's breaking inside me. Apoc is tearing down the last remains of the walls I had built up on that cursed ship and I can finally wash them away with tears I haven't cried in such a long time. I grab his arm and cling to it like a buoy.

"Don't leave me!" I stammer between sobs.

He won't. Instead he holds me tight while the last poison is washed out of my soul. And even after I stop crying, he stays with me, holds me as he slips under my blanket. Arm in arm we fall asleep.

The End.