(No) Second Chances

[Clara Hart]

Tina pounded on Clara's door, while most of the others were on a mission. The unhealthy-looking teen had not been sent as well, but neither had she seen her lover since then, either.

"Clara, please. It's Tina." She called.

The door opened on its own. Tina, hesitantly, entered the room.

Clara had always kept somewhat spartan, neat conditions before. Now, however, litter filled the room. Chunks of broken glass, cracked bits of wall, shredded papers and fabric all littered the floor, and claw-marks covered the walls.

The tiger-like teen was sitting in the center of her bed, sheet pulled over herself, facing away from Tina.

"Go away." Clara mumbled. "I'm not in the mood right now."

"Clara...it feels like we haven't talked...or done anything since the Revolution started. Why are you pulling away from me?" She asked, stepping forward.

"...there has not been time." The mage replied, hanging her head a bit lower and pulling the sheets down farther.

"There's time now, isn't there?" Tina stepped closer. A breeze picked up in the room.

"...time is precious." Clara said cryptically. "And I am not sure I have much left."

That statement got Tina worried. She sat on the bed and put a hand on Clara's shoulder through the sheet. Her girlfriend flinched. "Are you alright, babe?"

"I'm losing myself, Tina." The powerful mage replied. "I'm not as in control as I was. I'm losing my mind and I'm losing my body."

Now she was both confused and distressed. "...what are you talking about?"

Clara pulled away, and dropped tossed the sheet away. Her lover gasped, visibly shocked by what she saw.

She was now covered in red and white fur. It was short, for now, and followed the same path as her skin markings. Her teeth were promininently fanged, and her fingers now ended in definite claws, the beginnings of paw pads forming on her hands and feet as well. The orange in her hair was also fading from the roots, turning red and white in waves and stripes gradually, though it was still orange at the tips.

"I'm losing myself, Tina. i don't know what to do." She said, a helpless tone to her voice.

"Oh honey." The lanky goth said, voice heavy with sympathy. She embraced Clara. "I love you no matter what you look like."

"...but will you love me when I'm gone?" Clara asked.

"I don't know what you mean."

"...We're not alone, Tina. I'm not alone, in my head." The powerful mage said forlornly, actually fear creeping into her voice for the first time. "I'm losing myself."

"I'll find you, wherever you go." The ghostly teen replied, holding Clara tight and petting her softly. "Wherever you go, I'll find you."

And Clara wanted to believe that. She wanted very badly to believe it.

But she knew, deep in her soul, that where she was going, no one could follow.

[Christian Monroe]

Christian was the first one off the shuttle after it touched down on the outskirts near their homebase. Normally gruff and anti-social, the lion-like teen had been in an even fouler frame of mind since his failure--and subsequently being knocked out by his own team. The large Siegfried had been squirming and shifting in obvious guilt near from the moment he'd woken up. Other than a slight snarl, Christian merely ignored them all.

It was a bitter draught to swallow, after all, to have prepared yourself for death in battle only to be served a stiff side of personal humiliation.

The cat-like teen marched across the expanse, not caring whether or not the others were following him. They were, but at a much slower pace. Apparently they would much rather he be the first person to face Clara and inform her of their failure. Christian snorted again, this time in mild disgust. Cowards.

The young Mage threw open the door without preamble and stepped inside. Nearly the same instant Clara suddenly alighted the stairs with a bedsheet wrapped around her like a cloak, Tina a few steps behind her. Christian froze just inside the doorway, his eyes--and more importantly, his nose--assaulted with the difference in their leader.

She was covered in white and red fur now, her hair as well, and her scent was . . . not quite human, anymore. She was changing, and Christian wasn't entirely sure just what she was becoming. Or what it would mean for them when the process completed.

Hiding his shock and uncertainty for now under layers of Mamba training, he drew himself up taller and met her gaze squarely. "The mission was a failure," he pronounced, tone deadpan. "The alien ship has the ability to strip Mages of their powers, turning them human. We were completely defenseless while on board. I was knocked out, and apparently in the interim they stuffed us all on a shuttle and sent us back home with our tail between our legs."

[Clara Hart]

Kill him for his abject failure.

That was the order the Source gave Clara. She snarled at it.

"I'm fully aware of what the Dreadnought is capable of. I had hoped you would have been able to prevent it from happening. Clearly I overestimated you all." She said instead, her sentiments half-Clara and half-Source.

Christian glared silently past Clara. This enraged the Source.

Clara, however, was still mostly in control. She glanced at the rest of them. "Do not act as if this is his failure alone. You, all of you, failed. The Dreadnought was crafted specifically to stop us. And now, my Mother has it. This makes her a danger to all of us. And to our cause."

She turned and started back up the stairs. "Get the wounded to Omega. Get Gloria some food and water and let her rest. We plan our next move later. Christian, send Omega to her post. She has been guarding the prisoner since you left."

Tina stared after Clara helplessly before rushing after her lover.

She met a closed, locked door, however. Clara was in front of her mirror, facing a rather upset looking Crusader in it.

"You fool! You tolerate your lessers entirely too much for my taste." The Source snarled. "They failed and now that accurssed ship is going to ruin everything."

"No, it will not. We are not on it. It cannot..." The words took shape from the Source's memories. "Lock us down while we remain off of it."

"You should just make them go back. It is within your power to force even those on the ship to your will! Do so!"

"Never." Clara replied. "Never will I resort to slavery. You may take me in body and soul." The tiger-like teen said stoically. "But never my will."

[Christian Monroe]

Christian turned and headed for the small hallway immediately, ignoring the others murmuring fearfully in the background. For all of his outward, stone-faced calm, his mind was in turmoil. It seemed they had even bigger problems besides Clara physically changing. It seemed she was being altered mentally as well. He had picked up small hints here or there before, but never this strongly. There were two very distinctly different speech patterns that Clara was using now. One that was her own, and one that decidedly not.

His training pointed to split-personality disorder, but SPD didn't make you grow fur, bigger fangs or an extra breast.

Clara was devoted to the cause, but she was devoted to them as well. She didn't put them in any more of a risk than she had to, genuinely cared about their well being. This 'Other' . . . did not. It seemed Clara was still mostly dominant, but what if that should change? What would he--what would any of them--do, were that to change?

Unfortunately he didn't have any answers.

Instead he loped down the stairs and then into Isabella's cell. Immediately both females inside stood at his entrance. Both of them looked vastly relieved, and then worried--no doubt from the blood still matting his fur in places where that giant Viking pirate had caught him a time or two.

Omega, he expected. Isabella . . . not so much.

The latter was forced to move no farther than the edge of her barred cell, but the Mage stepped toward him wordlessly, eyebrows lifted. When she made to put her hands on him he shook his head however, catching them before they could, firm but gentle.

"They're not bad enough to waste the energy," he informed her, tone somewhat gruff. "But there're others that need the attention. Clara sent me to take over so you could see to them."

Omega hesitated a fraction of a moment before nodding, then turning and exiting the room silently. Christian closed the door, using the mundane task to try and gather a bit of his calm and composure. Why he suddenly felt like a nervous kid was anyone's guess, however.

It's because your mate looks worried about you. Like she really cares if you're alright.

He snorted softly to himself at that inner monologue. Isabella Martinez wasn't his 'mate.' The fact that he had to keep reminding himself of this fact more and more was disturbing in the extreme.

Christian loped a little closer to the cell, hunkering down near the bars and taking up his usual post. Isabella sat down near him, dark eyes wide and still worried.

"Are you sure you're alright? Some of those cuts look pretty bad."

"I've had worse," was all he returned, trying his best not to stare at her, while secretly breathing deep, taking in as much of her pretty scent as he possibly could.

Her expression turned slightly wry. "Just because you've had worse doesn't mean you should just ignore these. A small wound can kill you just as easily as a large one can, it just takes longer."

Christian heard what she wasn't saying. He heard the softness in her voice, the affection. He could smell it. And admitting to it scared him spitless. He turned to face her suddenly, green-gold eyes somewhat desparate.

"You can't allow yourself to like me," he bit out through clenched teeth. "I'm an animal, a weapon. Remember that."

She faced him with a steady look, those chocolatey eyes eating away at his very soul with the tenderness that coated them. "No, you're a person," she returned softly. "A person who's had a hard life and keeps going back to it because you expect it to be hard, to be unforgiving. But it doesn't have to be."

A slight snarl escaped his throat, fists clenching. "I've killed countless men, humans, most of them by choice. I am what I was made--engineered--to become." He swallowed then, his gaze dropping to the floor to glare at it bitterly. When he spoke again, his tone was hoarse with an emotion he had never felt before, and would probably never admit to easily. "So you shouldn't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

Christian's eyes raised at that, locking with hers and staring deep. "Like you want to believe that I am better," he murmured softly, then. "Like you care."

Her own face was earnest, and so gut-wrenchingly pretty as she easily returned with, "that's because I don't just believe it--I know you're better. Or you can be. And I do care." At that, one of her slender hands suddenly reached through the bars and touched him on the leg, her slender but deceptively strong fingers curling around the muscle in an obvious caress. "I do, I have, and I will."

Christian stared down at the hand that was touching him, somewhat stunned at the wealth of emotion that simple contact was causing in his chest. Warm and soft, it made him strong and weak all at the same time. And such pleasure coursed in his veins, from that innocent hold. He had felt small, fleeting versions of the same when Cassiopeia had forced gentle contact with him all those months ago on the Plunder, but nothing like this.

And slowly, the longer her hand stayed, a soft and curious noise suddenly began rumbling out of his chest. It took him a moment to realize what it was, and when he did he felt his skin grow hot and uncomfortable under his fur, in what would no doubt be a blush if he wasn't covered.

Good God, he was literally purring.

Isabella smiled a little at that. Not looking repulsed by the freaky reaction, but rather amused as she said, "nothing that purrs can be all bad."

Christian cleared his throat somewhat gruffly, trying to stop the stupid noise but to no avail. "Men don't purr," he grumped somewhat petulantly. But he didn't move away. And he didn't remove her hand. And that damned noise that he didn't want to admit to only grew louder, more content. As if to call him a liar.

He stared at her then, for the first time his gruff masks falling away. Revealing a troubled teen, confused and lost, but his eyes filled with so much longing it was near painful to witness. "God, Bella," he whispered, tone hoarse. "What are you doing to me?"

[Isabella Martinez]

Bella smiled at Christian--a genuine smile, no wryness to it. "I'm making you fall for me, like you're making me fall for you."

Christian probably would have given a gruff reply if he had not heard the stairway door open behind him. A flicker of anger crossed Bella's face when she saw Clara--furry, shrouded, but unmistakably her--step into the room. The furred teen stood at attention when his leader entered, though Bella thought that maybe, this time, there was a bit less respect in how he looked at her, and significantly more caution.

"What's going on?" Clara asked. Christian answered, stoic and gruff enough to make even the most emotionally dead Mamba proud, "Nothing. I'm watching the prisoner."

"Really?" A smirk passed over her face, an expression completely unlike Clara's smirks--coldly, darkly amused, like he was a child that had just been or was about to be caught in a lie. "Nothing was going on. Of course." The leader walked over to the cage, putting a hand through the bars and running her furred hand gently down Bella's face. She tried to pull away but a wind wall held her still.

Though he did not react, Clara turned to him and smirked even wider. "If nothing's going on, why am I getting so many angry emotions from you, Christian?" The leader pulled her hand away and walked back towards the door. "You are off guard duty. While your puppy crush was entertaining enough at first, it is quickly becoming tiresome."

Before he could say anything, Clara locked eyes with her subordinate. "Argue, and I put Nathan in charge of her safety."

The feral mage left, the door shutting on its own behind her. Isabella reached out and lightly touched Christian's arm.

"I don't want you to go." She said softly. "I..I'm not sure I can survive this without you around."

[Christian Monroe]

Christian stared at the doorway, where Clara--or the . . . thing now in control of her--had left. The creature that had taunted him, sneered at him and purposefully caressed Isabella's face to get a rise out of him was not Clara. Not entirely. Not by a long shot. Whatever it was inside of Clara, it was gaining strength and control by the day.

And now, it knew his weakness.

Christian had been harboring a hatred of the human race near from the time he was old enough to contemplate that ugly word. He'd agreed to Clara's Revolution because she was his Alpha, and because it suited him to subjugate the humans, that doing so put to use all the skills that had been thrust upon him. The only things of use and value that he had.

But now . . . maybe he had something else worth fighting for.

Christian turned to stare at Bella's hand, curling around his forearm. As he'd been taught, the Mage viewed his options in black and white, utter absolutes. He could not allow Isabella to come to harm. If he was unable to see to her welfare anymore, that would become a certainty. Therefore, Isabella had to be removed from this situation.

By any means necessary.

Christian's other hand lifted, gently covering hers, being somewhat timidly careful of the sharp points of his claws. Then he lifted his gaze to meet her own.

"I am sorry, Bella," he murmured, rumbling tone gentle. More gentle than anyone had ever heard him speak in his entire life. "I have to go." Her expression started to crumple, but Christian's grip on her hand remained firm. "For now," he added softer, with a pointed stare. Silently trying to convey his plans, knowing he couldn't speak them aloud. There were too many eyes, ears and other senses in this house. "I need you to be strong in the meantime."

And with that he turned and pulled away, feeling the loss of her touch like an open wound as he strode purposefully for the door. His training served him well. Outwardly and inwardly, there was no indication of his inner turmoil. Nor was there any hints to his plans.

As soon as he was able, however, he had a lot of preparations to make.