Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Rules for Challenges


StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking

Summary: When things you never knew you missed are suddenly taken from you - well you can only move on, right?

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Dark Angel > Non-BtVS/AtS StoriesfeekhFR15724,275153,49121 Mar 0826 Aug 08No

Book One: Prologue

A/N: Okay, first off, any of you readers waiting for the next chapter of Furyans, I haven't forgotten you, I just lost my muse. Search and Rescue has no information on his whereabouts, so I don't know when it will be continued.
So, instead I went back to other things, such as this, an old story of mine that is currently being rewritten and I thought you might like it.
The Chapter titles are all lines from Emily Dickinson poems. If you are interested in them, let me know and I will pm them.

The Thing with Feathers

The steel door to the cell swung open and a body was thrown in, landing on the ground with a bone-deep groan of pain.

Two eyes watched from the corner, glinting in the shadows, their owner unsure if this was another ruse to break her, another scheme thought up by the bitch who ruled this living nightmare.

Groaning, trembling arms tried to push up the body, muscles clenching in remembered pain. He’d be damned before he let the bitch feel the satisfaction of breaking him. Hazel eyes burned with the need to cry, but soldiers never cried.

The broken woman watched the man try to control the body betraying his every thought. Long supressed feelings of need rose to the surface of her scarred heart. The need to help, to comfort and be comforted. Involuntarily a hand reached out only to freeze when the movement caused flashing hazel eyes to swing up and meet wary brown ones.

“Who are you?”


Every morning the woman and the man were separated and taken away. Away to be tortured, driven to the edge of reason, where sanity slips away, sliding through weak and broken fingers.


Every evening the woman and the man were thrown back into the cell, left alone, but together.


Every night the woman and the man helped each other past the pain, sharing whispered confessions about nothing in particular, until the comforting turned to something else, the need to touch and feel something besides the harsh torture inflicted on them in the daylight hours. Soft moans filled the velvet darkness of the cell, cries quickly silenced, two lost souls finding something new, something pure to help them through the sunlight.

But somebody was watching, somebody was always watching.


“Madam. Operation successful. The subject is pregnant.”

The woman allowed herself a brief smile of triumph. She always got what she wanted. “Find a surrogate. If we loose this child.” She paused and pinned the subordinate to the wall with the force of her will alone. “Well, you don’t want to know what will happen in that case.”

Her gaze turned back to the screens. Her voice soft as she spoke the final verdict. “Oh, and make them forget.”

“Yes, Director Renfro, Ma’am.


The woman and the man did forget. Forgot themselves and each other in a haze of red light until all that was left was what she allowed them to keep.

Forgot everything except the vague feeling that not all was as it should be. That something vital had been torn from their lives.


The steel door to the cell swung open and a young man waltzed in, hazel eyes flashing with humour.

Wary brown eyes watched him from the corner of the room.

“Hi, I’m your breeding partner.”

Brown eyes flashed and hazel eyes found themselves slammed into the other side of the cell by one well-placed kick.

“In your dreams.” Brown eyes stated firmly.
Next Chapter
StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking