Proximity by Sue Castle. Rated NC-17. Spoilers for The Island (movieslash). Popcorn for summer. No infringement intended.

They used to tell us proximity was dangerous. Now I know why…

He knew he would help them when the boy told him he’d do what he had to in order to survive.

It wasn’t the clone he’d shot; he knew that as soon as he squeezed the trigger. The original Lincoln wouldn’t look shocked, distraught, desperate, all emotions he’d read clearly in the clone’s eyes.

He didn’t regret taking the shot.

He regretted some things in his life. He accepted most others. He’d learned early: watching his family and friends murdered around him; watching his father’s hopeless dignity as he was tortured, broken, then killed; watching the demon in the uniform smile as the brand was burned into his flesh, as his brother screamed as he was also branded; he accepted the first time he killed a man, and every time thereafter. He’d accepted a lot of things, but he wouldn’t accept this.

These people were human.

Albert Laurent defined humanity a little differently than the rich people who paid for unwitting and unwilling organ donors to be slaughtered to prolong their lives. He certainly defined it differently than Dr. Merrick, so proud to play god.

He accepted that his help would be active rather than mere acceptance when they got a hit on the girl. She was sitting in a swing, looking as young as the children for whom she’d bought ice cream. She hadn’t struggled, and he knew then that she’d planned to be caught. She hadn’t screamed, but she had cried, a single silent tear as they drove to what she should have expected to be her death. She’d stared out the window, and her fingers rubbed over and over the brand on her wrist.

The pistol in her waistband was obvious, but he didn’t take it when he brought her in. She’d looked relieved, so easy to read, so very innocent. Determined to survive, but not at the cost of her friends’ lives.

When Merrick tried to pay him off, Albert showed him his own brand. In a few brief words, he sketched out his past, victim of a failed rebellion, marked for life by those who would have him believe he was less than human. He’d told Merrick that he accepted that he was a murderer, and asked the doctor when he’d accepted that he, too, was a killer.

Merrick responded by claiming it was for the greater good. These deaths he didn’t carry on his conscience would pave the way for him to become god, in the eyes of those he could cure, at least.

Not in the eyes of those he murdered.

Then the alarms rang, and Merrick left, and Albert went looking. For the boy, for the girl, it didn’t matter.

It was time to help.

And so he did.

He found the girl first: she was terrified but determined, her hand, holding the gun, shaking so hard it was a miracle she didn’t shoot him accidentally. It took a moment to convince her he would not kill her, but her desperation worked hand in hand with her innocence, and she believed him. They got to her friends just in time.

Another minute and they would have been dead.

The firefight was fierce, but he was nothing if not efficient. When the huge turbine crashed through the dome and broke the bunker wide open, the hundreds of inmates overwhelmed their oppressors through sheer numbers. The guards had relied, for the most part, on intimidation, not weapons, and when there were too many clones streaming past them to stop, and no one left from whom to take orders, they did what all rats do on sinking ships. They ran to protect themselves.

The other victims, the other innocents in their white suits and their smiles and their confusion, milled around in their new-found freedom, when minutes before so many of them had been locked in gas chambers about to be put down like defective animals. Albert saw the girl, looking around, lost, hoping, and saw her face light up as the boy came up to her.

From the look of him, he’d put up quite a fight. Albert had no doubt Merrick was dead.

He watched as they kissed, feeling something peaceful settle deep inside his chest. He’d accepted many things in his life, including losing what he most longed to protect, but once in awhile, he won.

This felt like a win.

Of course, it was just the beginning of a bureaucratic and logistical nightmare. With freedom came exposure, and the threat of those who would seek to avoid that exposure. With Merrick dead, the Institute would not be the first to target the innocents. The Department of Defense would be. And the innocents, being just that, wouldn’t even recognize the threat when it came at them.

He had a lot of work to do.

Lincoln was tired all the way down to his bones. It felt like he hadn’t slept at all ever since he’d discovered what the Island really was, like he’d been running and hiding and fighting and getting hurt forever. His nightmare turned real when he saw the baby taken from her mother then her mother murdered; got even worse when he saw Starkweather dragged, bleeding and screaming, back to be hacked up on an operating room table for spare parts. He got Jordan out but then saw his friend McCord shot and killed right in front of him just because he’d tried to help.

Then it got worst of all, when he found out he wasn’t a person. That he had an owner. And that owner betrayed him. He found himself doing all kinds of things he didn’t know he could do, but he had to, because he wanted to live, and he wanted Jordan to live. He wanted Jones to live. He wanted Gandu to live, but he hadn’t seen Gandu in the crowd and he had a bad feeling Gandu was already dead.

The only good spot in the whole thing was the time he and Jordan had spent with each other. He’d never had anything feel so good in his whole life. He hadn’t wanted to stop. But they had to, because they had things they had to do. They had friends to save.

He’d had to kill Merrick. Or Merrick would have choked him to death. Once he’d broken the hologram projector and got shot by that horrible gun with the cable and the hook, he’d had to fight for his life again, and he’d ended up hanging from a walkway by the cable caught in his back, Merrick hanging dead across from him.

One thing he knew, besides the fact that he wanted to live. That was that pain hurt. He’d been in more pain the last couple days than he ever knew existed. He didn’t like it. He’d had to haul himself up to the walkway by the cable, then wiggle it around until he got the hook out from under his skin. He’d thrown up, and he nearly passed out, but he did it.

He had to. Jordan was out there. And their friends. All the people they knew, who didn’t know they weren’t people, who didn’t know they had owners and would be killed by doctors to be used for spare parts.

Well, maybe not now. Now that he’d killed Merrick.

Just like the first time, when he’d followed the flying bug until he found a way out, Lincoln followed the sunshine until he found his friends. He found Jones first, who babbled something at him about the Island and no contamination and the big man with the gun who’d saved them. Lincoln was relieved to see Jones was alive, and confused to see that the big man with the gun was the same man who’d led the men who’d been hunting him and Jordan.

He looked at the man. The man looked back, and nodded. His eyes were sad but his face was calm. Lincoln realized the man had helped them. He didn’t know why, but before he could ask, he saw Jordan. Then she was close up against him and he had his arms around her and they were doing that amazing thing with the tongues again and he was suddenly so exhausted he could barely stand up.

The rest of the day passed in a daze. He knew there were men in uniforms there, uniforms he’d never seen before, but the man who helped them, Jordan said his name was Laurent, talked to the men in uniforms. Lincoln didn’t know what Laurent said, but the men didn’t use their guns, so that was all right.

A little while later people in red trucks with lights that made a sound like someone screaming really loud came up. There were other trucks with them, white trucks that looked like big boxes on wheels, and even as sick as Lincoln was of white, he decided he liked these. Because they brought in them very nice people who looked after his friends, and gave them blankets to wrap around their shoulders, and gave them coffee. They bandaged him up and put ointment on Jones’ burns and washed the cuts on Jordan’s face.

An older man in a green uniform with stars on the shoulders came over and asked him who he was. Lincoln made sure his sleeves were down over his wrists so his brand couldn’t be seen and said calmly, “Tom Lincoln.”

The man was surprised. “I thought you all were clones.”

“My clone came to me when he escaped,” Lincoln told him, not batting an eye at the way he had to twist the truth. He would survive and he’d make sure everyone else did too. He could lie to do that. He made sure to keep the Scottish accent as he talked. “I was surprised. The clones weren’t supposed to be awake. When Dr. Merrick’s people killed my clone, I came to the institute to find out what was going on. When I found out all these people were awake, I had to do something.”

“This is incredible,” the man said, sounding upset. “I can well understand why you’d take action, but god. What a mess.”

He looked around at the hundreds of clones walking around, chattering excitedly at each other. Lincoln tried not to show how the man’s words made him angry, and instead said, “It had to be stopped. They had to be freed.”

“Yeah, I guess,” the man said, and Lincoln growled at him. Then he blinked. He didn’t think he’d ever made that sound before. Another first.

The man stepped back a pace and nodded. “Yes, yes, you’re right, of course. Now we have to figure out what to do with them.”

“Let them have their lives,” Lincoln said, then added, “I can help. I’m rich.”

He wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but his owner had said it as if it solved problems, so he thought it might work here. From the smile on the man’s face, it looked like it did. He said some things about notification and housing and walked over to join some other men in uniforms. Lincoln watched him for awhile then went to find Jordan.

“Lincoln?” she asked, reaching out to hold his hand.

“It’s going to be okay,” he told her, hoping he was right. Speaking very quietly so no one but Jordan could hear, he said, “I told them I was Tom Lincoln.”

She nodded. “Good idea.”

They stood for awhile, watching as the people with the blankets and the bandages went around and helped their friends. Some of the men in uniforms were talking into things in their hands, and there was a lot of bustle and confusion. Jordan’s fingers were warm and strong where they wrapped around his, and Lincoln found that comforting.

When the men in uniforms started to round everyone up and put them in big long yellow trucks, Lincoln nearly panicked. He looked for Laurent and ran over to him.

“Where are they taking us?” he asked. He was scared again, and it made him angry. One of the strangers started saying something about relocation and camps and tests. Lincoln turned back to Laurent. “Are they going to kill us?”

That made the stranger stop talking. Everybody stopped talking, then, and looked at Lincoln. He thought they looked surprised, but he didn’t know why. Any time people were taken out of the compound it was so they could be killed. He and Jordan hadn’t risked everything to get their friends out only to have them taken away in yellow trucks and killed anyway.

“No,” Laurent said. His voice was quiet but strong. Lincoln believed him. “I will go with you. You’ll be safe.”

Lincoln stared up into his eyes for a long time, trying to read them the way Jordan could, but all he could see was truth. “Okay,” he agreed then.

Still, he stuck close to Laurent, and he made sure Jordan stayed close, too. And he kept a close eye on the strangers, the best he could.

His owner had taught him not to trust, and he’d learned the lesson well. He trusted Jordan, and she trusted Laurent, but that’s as far as Lincoln was willing to go.

The boy watched out for his people. Something about him reminded Albert of himself as a younger man, though he’d never been that innocent. He’d seen too much death since he was a child to ever be that trusting. While the boy was developing some suspicion, and asking the right questions, he still needed someone to watch out for him.

They all did.

Albert coordinated evacuation of the base with the lead army officer and the Salvation Army representatives on site. He’d ensured when he called it in that there would be civilians present, ones with the authority to care for and protect the clones. The newly-freed people were like children, had been trained to obey unquestioningly, and he’d seen them obediently walking to what would have been their deaths. They certainly couldn’t look out for themselves.

But they also couldn’t be trusted to the military. The DoD was ruthless in suppressing those incidents that could invite Congressional inquiry, and if ever there was such a situation, this was it. So when Albert called in his markers, he’d called aid organizations and the media as well as the military.

This story would not be quashed. These people would not be made to disappear.

The evening was as busy as the day had been. Buses took the clones to an emergency shelter set up by the Salvation Army in Kingman. Media buzzed around the perimeter of the evacuation, not getting through the Army cordon to actually talk to the clones but keeping the bright light of attention on them.

Hard to disappear when you’re on-camera. Albert counted on that.

It was late by the time everyone was settled. Dinner was a boxed sandwich, chips and apple, and a bottle of water, and Albert ate his as he walked through the makeshift camp. The abrupt cessation of everything they’d considered normal made the freed clones giddy and confused, but they’d been trained since inception to be passively obedient, so when it was time to settle in for the night, they did.

Once all was quiet, Albert walked the perimeter, nodding to the soldiers on guard and returning the aid workers’ smiles with grave smiles of his own. As the de facto guardians of the clones, the boy and the girl were in a small room next to his own, where they could have some privacy but weren’t completely separated from their people. He paused outside their door and found himself smiling.

Merrick hadn’t taught them anything about sex, but they’d discovered it on their own, from the sound of it, and they were applying their newfound knowledge with enthusiasm.

Settling into his own blankets, he cleared his mind, maintained his watchful guard, and prepared for as much sleep as he could get, in a combat situation. And until these people were settled, that’s what it felt like to him.

Only this time, he would not lose.

His awareness kept him from showing his surprise when, a few hours later, his door silently opened. His Glock was in his hand, silencer affixed. A shadow moved from the door to stand, or hover really, next to his bed.

“Laurent?”

Albert knew it was the boy before he opened his mouth. The Glock went back to its place beside the mattress and Albert rolled up to sit on the bed, staring up at the boy.

“What’s wrong?”

The boy hunched his shoulders and shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Then why are you here?” He softened his tone to offset the harsh words; he knew the boy would appreciate the direct approach. Might not recognize any other approach, actually.

“Jordan told me what you did. I wanted to thank you.”

Albert shrugged. “No need. But you’re welcome.”

“Why?” the boy asked bluntly. There wasn’t the suspicion Albert might have expected in the query, only simple curiosity.

“Why what?”

“Why did you help? You hunted for us.”

Again, there was no condemnation in the boy’s voice, only honest confusion. Albert had never been that young. He sighed. Then he held out his hand, palm up, and showed the boy the same brand Albert had shown Merrick.

“I was marked, as well, by those who would have me believe I am less than human.”

Unselfconsciously the boy fell to his knees at Albert’s feet and took his hand in both his own. He lowered his head and stared at the brand, then traced the scarred outline with one gentle finger.

“They were wrong,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Albert told him, “they were wrong. They were wrong about me. And they were wrong about you.”

When the boy looked up, even in the dim light of the room, Albert could see his eyes were shining. Not tears, but fierce determination, and honest appreciation.

“We’re people,” the boy said, “you and I. Jordan. Jones. We’re all people.” His fingers still traced the brand on Albert’s hand absently, making the skin of the palm itch. Albert took a deep breath.

“Keep that in mind, in the days to come. It will be difficult. You will have those who would try to convince you that you’re less than human. They are wrong.”

Still distracted by the boy’s fingers caressing his palm, Albert didn’t realize what the boy was going to do until he did it. The boy’s mouth was soft against his, and the kiss was as soft as a bird’s wing beating the air next to his cheek. A moment later, the boy drew back, and Albert realized the intense eyes staring up at him hadn’t wavered.

The boy kissed with his eyes open. Albert wasn’t sure why this surprised him so much, but it did. Suppressing his instinctual reaction to the unexpected advance, he held himself very still. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.

The boy grinned brightly at him. “No. Not really. Jordan figured out the thing with the tongues, and Tom said something about sex, but really, it’s just… instinct.”

“Your instinct is telling you to kiss me?”

The boy was staring at his mouth. “Is that what it’s called? Kiss?” He sounded distracted.

Albert licked his lips, and the boy made a soft noise like a moan cut off. Then he leaned over and kissed Albert again. He licked at Albert’s lower lip just as Albert himself had, then gently sucked the lip into a kiss.

Torn between laughing at the audacity of the curious virgin currently exploring him, firmly pulling the boy off and sending him back to the girl, or returning the oddly sweet kiss, Albert hesitated a moment too long.

That was all the time it took for the boy to push his way between Albert’s thighs and wrap his arms around Albert’s waist, pulling their chests together. Albert huffed a laugh and the boy caught it on his tongue.

Fast learner, this boy.

Deciding enough was enough, Albert reached out and grabbed the boy’s wrists, intent on drawing his arms away. His fingers brushed against the raised flesh of the brand on the boy’s skin and he hesitated again.

The boy broke the kiss and leaned back. His eyes were brighter still, and he had an intent look on his face, a hunger Albert hadn’t expected. As if he were starved for touch, needing it and reaching for it but unsure of what he found when he had it in his hands.

“There were rules,” the boy said breathlessly. “Proximity.”

He easily broke Albert’s hold and raised his hands to run them along Albert’s arms, stroking the muscles up and over his shoulders until they met at the back of Albert’s neck.

“They told us proximity was dangerous.”

The boy leaned forward again and licked a kiss along the side of Albert’s jaw.

“Now I know why.”

He nipped at Albert’s throat then licked the spot. Albert bit back a moan of his own.

“We could get so close,” and the boy licked again, at the point where jaw met neck, “but no closer.”

Another lick, this time at the corner of Albert’s mouth, then more tiny kisses along his jawline, and he found his breath growing short.

Dangerous boy.

“I can understand it, really,” the boy breathed into his ear. “If we’d known how good proximity feels,” he stopped talking only long enough to nip at Albert’s throat, “we never would have done anything else.”

A nibble at his chin, and Albert’s control broke.

Those kisses, and those hands, and all that hungry heat, were enough. The boy had never been taught this was wrong, and Albert wasn’t going to be the one to tell him so.

“Your girl,” Albert muttered against the boy’s mouth, tongue stroking, demanding entrance.

The boy moaned into the kiss, and when Albert let him speak, said, “Jordan’s asleep. If she wasn’t so tired, she’d be here too.”

Albert leaned back and gave him a startled look.

The boy nodded, saying, “She thinks you’re pretty.”

“Pretty,” Albert said, disbelief rampant in his tone.

“Very pretty,” the boy told him seriously. “I think you’re pretty, too.”

Albert was still trying to wrap his mind around the concept of himself as ‘pretty’ when the boy’s hands worked their way under the waistband of his sweat pants. The heat of those fingers against his bare flesh provoked Albert into action.

Wrapping his arms around the boy’s back, he pulled and rolled them, landing them on the bed, his body pinning the boy’s against the mattress. Albert took the weight of his upper body on his hands and looked down at the boy.

“You don’t have to thank me this way,” he said, giving the boy an opportunity to back out.

“This isn’t thanks,” the boy told him, arching to press his erection against Albert’s own. “This is… something else. Don’t know what it is but it’s incredible.”

Albert had to agree. For a complete beginner, the boy had excellent instincts. He opened his thighs and wrapped one leg around Albert’s hips, grinding up as Albert pressed down. Giving up on protest, Albert leaned back down and took the boy’s mouth, pressing in and exploring, tongue thrusting in counterpoint to the movement of his groin against the boy’s. The boy’s hands were busy again, rubbing up and down Albert’s back, heat between them making the sweat stand out on skin, easing the way for the caresses.

Close to coming, Albert backed away, ignoring the boy’s disappointed groan. “It’s better skin to skin,” Albert told him, then quickly and efficiently stripped them both of their pants, the only clothes either wore. The boy helped, his hands fumbling, his attention wandering as Albert moved.

“So pretty,” the boy murmured, and Albert shook his head.

“You’re…” He almost said insane, but the boy wouldn’t understand, would take him literally. So he shook his head again and reached down between them, gathering the boy’s cock up against his own and squeezing lightly.

“Oh!” the boy gulped, and bucked against him. “Different!”

“Yes,” Albert agreed, “and going to be more so.”

“Wha-?”

The word degenerated into a gurgle as Albert released them, then slid down far enough to take the head of the boy’s cock in his mouth. He was well-built, more than a handful, definitely more than a mouthful, so Albert concentrated his efforts with lips and tongue on the head and milked the shaft with his hand. He used his free hand to hold the boy down, or the boy would have jumped clear off the bed.

“Oh… my… god’s the one who ignores you when you ask for what you want but I think this time he didn’t ignore me so maybe this is a prayer oh shite!”

That sounded like one long word to Albert but the boy was coming so he was busy keeping up, and didn’t pay much attention. The boy’s hands were fisted against his shoulders as Albert gently cleaned the still half-hard cock and lapped up the spill from the trembling stomach. Sweeter than he’d expected, maybe it was something in the diet they fed the clones, but he hadn’t thought a man’s seed could taste that sweet. He licked until the skin was clean and the boy was shaking, and his cock was hard again.

“That’s… that was… what WAS that?” the boy asked, pulling Albert up and kissing him frantically.

“Blow job,” Albert said matter-of-factly, returning the kisses with enough deliberate force to slow the boy down.

“I’ve GOT to try that!”

Without hesitation the boy slid out of Albert’s hands and took Albert’s cock in his mouth. It wasn’t skillful, but the sloppy enthusiasm was arousing in itself. Albert quickly found himself clutching the boy’s hair and trying his damnedest not to fuck the boy’s throat. Teeth grazed him and he growled.

“Mind the teeth,” he warned, and the boy mumbled something around the cock in his mouth, making Albert shudder.

It was almost surreal, Albert thought, hanging on to the shreds of his control. The boy kept his eyes open, staring up at Albert as he sucked, and the combination of heat and hunger and innocent enjoyment in the clear bright eyes undid him.

Determined not to drown the boy, he pulled the voracious mouth away from his cock, ignoring the unhappy whine his action caused. Then he pulled the boy up and kissed him, rocking against the boy’s erection and pulling muffled gasps from them both. Albert was so close, it was the work of a moment to bring himself to climax. The boy moaned again, hands clenching on Albert’s buttocks, and Albert held himself still as the boy worked his way to a second orgasm.

So ridiculously sweet. Even as debauched as he now looked, covered in sweat and semen, mouth red and swollen, his eyes were as bright as ever. Albert smiled and kissed him.

“You should go back to your girl,” he said quietly. “She’ll miss you when she wakes up.”

The boy kissed him again, and asked, “Can she come, next time?”

Albert blinked in surprise. Next time? Although he should have expected it, really. “If she likes,” he found himself answering before he had time to edit his response.

“Oh, good,” the boy grinned at him sleepily. “She’ll like that.”

With one more leisurely kiss, the boy extracted himself from the tangle of sheets and Albert’s limbs and crawled off the bed. He gathered up his pants and walked, unabashedly naked, to the door.

“So will I,” Albert said, and the boy grinned at him over his shoulder.

“Me, too,” he said, then went out the door.

Albert smoothed out the sheets, found a dry spot and lay down. Then he stared at the door for a long time before he finally fell asleep. His last conscious thought was, this was one complication he would thoroughly enjoy.

Lincoln stretched out in bed next to Jordan, trying not to wake her up. It didn’t work. She smiled up at him with sleepy eyes through a tangle of blonde hair, and suddenly Lincoln wasn’t nearly as tired as he’d been a moment before.

“Hi,” she said, putting her hand behind his head and pulling him down into a kiss.

“Hi,” he answered when she gave him his mouth back.

“You taste different.” She looked intently up at him, then grinned. “I like it.”

He had a thought. “I wonder…”

She gave him a curious look. “Wonder what?”

“Blow job,” he told her, and moved down to lay between her legs, spreading her thighs with his hands and licking at every bit of flesh he found there. After all, if it worked on a man, it should work on a woman. Going by the noise she made, Jordan liked it. A lot.

He’d never been so glad to be free to touch, to break the stupid proximity rules, to explore and discover. Later, when they had more time, he’d take Jordan to Laurent, and they’d figure out what three people could do together. Laurent probably had some good ideas.

Until then, he’d apply what he’d just learned to Jordan. It was different than it had been with Laurent, of course, but he liked it just as much.

It was almost as good as kissing.

END