Blind by carino2

Author: Carino
Title: Blind
Ship: Iggy/Ari, with some Figgy if you look hard enough :D
Rating: T, at least. High T.
Warnings: Slash. Fic on sleep deprivation.
Comments: I had the idea for this ship a long time ago, but never got it written down. However, with Nathan's lovely MR kink meme (linky in pro), I was inspired to actually get it written. This started as a one-page-in-my-notebook thing, about 250-300 words, but grew as I typed it up. Things like that happen. If you see problems, drop me a line, as always. I heart crits. And critters, preferably not the furry kind.

The worst thing about being blind was not being able to see.

It was true that Iggy had the sharpest hearing of anyone he'd ever met, probably the sharpest hearing of anyone, ever, thanks to his enhanced genes. Nor could he deny the fact that he almost had a sixth sense regarding people and their locations relative to his. And on top of that, his memory was, ironically enough, photographic.

Not that he could tell for sure, of course. His pictures might be so distorted that they did not come close to matching up to the world as the rest of his flock saw it, but they worked well enough for him. And in his pictures, if he so chose, he could erase all the things he'd rather not see and make his world at least have the appearance of perfection.

This was something he did quite often when the flock was flying; especially on clear days when everyone else could see down to the ground and offered him commentaries on life. He would take their words and shape them into scenes of his own, making a world that was entirely his to control.

Then there were other times, when they were flying at night, or the day was too cloudy for the ground to be soon, or there were miles of nothingness all around, and Iggy didn't even notice that he was different. If the view was worth seeing, Nudge would be talking about it, and sometimes if it wasn't, she'd continue to babble about the trees and the hills until Max told her to shut up.

Life was just like that. Whenever Iggy needed eyes, the flock was there to provide them for him.

Only now, things had changed.

The other senses Iggy had did him no good here. He would willingly give them up; one of them, all of them, to have his sight returned to him at this moment. There had been other times he'd wished this, of course, but none had been quite like this. Then, it had always been an impulsive desire; him wanting a chance to know the world around him as he'd never known it before; him dying for just a peek at the situation; him needing desperately to know what someone's face was like when they would not let him get close enough that he could see in his own way.

This time, it was a wish out of guilt and desperation. Iggy knew it was his fault that he had been the one captured like this; if he'd been able to see instead of having to rely on other people, then he would have known someone was about to grab him.

But he hadn't, and the first thing he'd known of the situation was that a pair of thick arms had wrapped around him, and no matter how much he fought, he could not get free. He could hear Max screaming, but nothing else from the rest of the flock; he guessed the others had either been injured or had fled.

There had been nothing to do. His captor had offered Max a way to free Iggy; she could exchange herself for him.

Iggy refused to let her do it. He didn't want anyone to witness Max having to think about such a thing, especially if the rest of the flock happened to be there. If nothing else, he had figured out by now the importance of making Max look strong. He often played along with her act to make everything seem okay even when he knew it wasn't even close to being that way. He pretended that life would be everything he wanted it to be someday if he fought hard enough, doing his best to block out the ugly words and shape a world of his own with his speech.
He wasn't quite as good as that, and he wondered if being deaf would help him to improve the world.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd get to find out someday. But it was more likely that he'd die here before he was rescued. If he was rescued. He wasn't sure where he was, and Max had been in no condition to follow him when he'd been taken away, he knew. His captor had mentioned something about a broken arm, and though Max was sometimes dumb when she was on her own, the rest of the flock would not let her fly in such a state.

So here he was, alone, and she was a long way off. He was further depressed by the knowledge that he wasn't the one who had been the target of the abduction—that was Max, of course; it was always Max—and that his captor could very easily decide to finish him off if he got bored.

Iggy wanted to tell his captor that there was no need for violence. He would stay here if he was wanted; he'd do anything to keep himself alive. Hell, he'd do anything just to be given a chance to prove that he was still capable of feeling, but he kept that thought inside.

It was hard enough for him to make the words come out as it was; they were lodged in his throat and he stuttered through his statement. Iggy had never thought he'd be begging in such a way, but he no longer had the heart to worry about his position. He was desperate, and that was all that mattered.

He heard the unmistakable sound of his captor pacing as he considered Iggy's offer, his footsteps tantalizingly close to where Iggy stood. Iggy could not bring himself to move, and yet he did not feel he could stand still for much longer. If his offer was rejected, he considered trying to escape, lack of sight be damned, and going off on his own. If he made it, that was. If not, he would simply die and that would be the end of things.

A sudden halt in his captor's footsteps jolted him; he held his breath as the footsteps started up again, this time heading toward him.

"You want me to keep you." It was a comment, not a question.

Iggy stood silently, afraid to do anything.

"And you would like very much to know what my answer is?"

Iggy felt his lips begin to move, felt them start to form the letters he wanted to reply with, but silenced them. He did his best to ignore the words directed at him, and concentrated instead on the voice uttering them, rough but almost warm.

A finger that felt more like a claw reached out and stroked his face, and Iggy decided that now was the best time to act.

He reached out and grabbed his captor's wrist, pulling him closer, daring him to answer the question. He stifled a gasp as a pair of lips met his own. He pulled his captor closer, tentatively at first in case this was some kind of joke, then greedily as no resistance met his advantages. His hands traced his captor's body, gliding over flaw after flaw, but Iggy knew he would not be disgusted with himself until later, if at all.

He ignored every problem with the situation, painting over the scars and deformities with pictures of everything that should be, and immersed himself in the moment.

The best thing about being blind was not being able to see.