So, this was meant to be like a villain/hero au, but as it was written I didn't think it'd fit but this is angst! Sorry - Also its sort of set in a post-apocalyptic world; I got so carried away with this but I actually really like it! Also AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, endless screaming due to how close we are to 100K, Got some stuff real special planned. My apologies for the hold up on requests I'm trying my hardest!! Thank you for the patience and continuous support as always so unbelievably grateful for it all!

He needs a cure and won't let anything stand in his way of getting it.

;

Mark sits near the burning barrel at camp (if you could call it that, they're in the open and there's a few sleeping bags on the floor which have numerous holes from mice and god knows what other creatures from the night.) But nevertheless hes staring upon the inferno in front of him like it holds all the answers to his questions. Mark sure wishes that was the case. The situation of how things turned upside down so quickly dawning on him; the flames reflected into his irises much like his thoughts, Mark has been told his eyes hold all his emotions, maybe its because he's seen too much in his time.

He uses the blaze to warm his cold hands and takes a deep breath, eyes flickering around him where people, strangers turn in for the night. They aren't among the infected. Mark is. He thought he could escape it, the virus; even left his home behind to travel to the United Kingdom for a possible cure, alas - it was no use and he just ended up stuck; in an unknown country watching the world turn insane that's what that cure did to you. Mark was among the foolish that believed somebody could cure such illness, clinging on to a last shred of hope.

;

The infection; its like poison - slowly drives you insane until you turn on your own or you turn on yourself. There's no physical pain but that doesn't matter because the mental pain you go through is enough, hes heard the stories, heard the trauma.

Brothers turning on sisters, Mothers turning on kids, Friends turning on friends. Its brutal, makes you out of control, a spiral Mark didn't want to go down. Most try to fight it but getting your hands on a 'cure' is extremely rare and the recovery can't delete your memory. There are somethings you can't un-see, cannot undo.

The infection like most stories you hear, was an experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong.

It began with a scientist in Ireland, a curious mind perhaps too curious. The tale said that he was searching for a cure for cancer after he lost his grandfather to the disease and he thought he found it.

Thought.

So, he started injecting people dealing with cancer with his thought-to-be cure and at first glances, they were normal.

Another glance and you'd see they were not, it wasn't just headaches or a rash they got - no, it was harsh; losing their grip slowly and suddenly it was spreading like a wildfire and the scientist could not control it, why it spread nobody can say for sure but it did and that's how they ended up here, in a world turned upside down.

Some stories say he lost his arm from one of his patients; but nobody knows his whereabouts.

Mark thinks the Irish scientist has got the cure to the illness, after many nights kept awake researching and asking people of relatives lost to the infection; it seemed that way. Mark thinks the scientist is selfish, a coward even; hes ruined so many peoples lives and deserves all he gets.

Hes hurt and wants revenge, that bastard did this to him - to others and he'll get that damned cure, even if he needs to pry it from the scientists' cold, dead, hands.

Mark looks around all the people and sighs, he hopes to sneak out before dawn and that nobody catches the infection from him but maybe its too late already if it is, he isn't going to stick around to face the blame.

A reasonable bit of Mark wants to be the hero in this story, say he took down the scientist and has the cure but a selfish piece of him says take the cure for himself. He hasn't figured out what bit to listen to yet.

Hes a lone wolf, even here, surrounded by people.

There are no prisoners in an apocalypse, he realizes.

;

Hes up before the sun is and takes a brief moment to appreciate the darkness around, he cannot see the people around him and hes glad because Mark knows he'll feel guilty, and hes rising and not looking back, doesn't want too.

Mark wants to get to Ireland as quick as he can, knows it wont be easy -- where does one catch a train or a plane in the apocalypse?

The answer is you don't, He'll just have to find someone that can take him there even if it means spending his last cents on it.

;

He finds himself at the back of a run down, old, train carriage. The lights above him are flickering as the torn up land passes by through the shattered window which lets the wind seep in, Mark supposes its a comfort on the rather spooky train. There's a man with a beard sat across from him, sadness laced in his expression. Mark doesn't say anything to the man; doesn't want to break the peaceful silence. Besides, he wouldn't know what to say anyway; 'Lovely weather we're having.' is not an appropriate thing to comment on in the apocalypse where you can start to lose your mind whenever suits.

Mark misses the days when train carriages like this would be busy with lots of people, chattering in the air - He used to despise it. How he took simple things for granted.

The carriage comes to a halt and so do Marks thoughts. As he gets off the carriage he nods to the man and hops onto ground. He isn't entirely sure where he is; but he's always felt a bit lost, regardless. He sighs and begins walking, trying to find something recognizable.

He ventures across a bar, its name unknown as the sign hangs from it; ready to collapse at any moment. Nevertheless Mark enters the joint and to his surprise there are many people sat in the stools, it seems like the only place with electricity around and Marks glad at the rush of heat that hits him when he enters. A few of the people turn their heads and look at him, but its not threatening, just curious. He takes a seat at the back of the room and ponders if he should ask if anyone knew where he could get a boat to Ireland.

Mark approaches the bar.

'How can I help ya?" A girl with a thick accent Mark can't place asks. He coughs, almost shy.

"I'm sorry to ask but do you possibly know where I could get a boat to Ireland?" Its in a hushed down and the girl narrows her eyes.

She rings a bell and for a moment Mark thinks hes about to be thrown out before she bellows;

"Alright lads, where somebody can get a boat across the waters?" Theres a blanket of silence before somebody out of nowhere speaks up.

"Aye, I know o' somebody." The girl behind the bar knows to the person who spoke up and Mark mouths a thank you, before scuttling towards the voice.

;

The sea is loud,deafening almost and his fear is not forgotten. The water is rocky and Mark tries not to stare into the waves. "May I ask why yer heading out here anyway?" His captain (Mark isn't sure if you could be captain of such a small boat but still, that's the only word he could think of for the man he met in the bar perhaps days ago, even though it feels like weeks.) "I want to track down the scientist who started the infection." He states and it lingers in the sea air for a moment.

The man nods. "I understand laddie. We've all lost something or other to that infection. Just remember that revenge ain't always the way." Are the accented words that come out of the mans mouth; Then its silent again minus the water that's within just touching distance, the words stick to Mark, though, much like his well past soaked clothes which are most definitely stuck to him but he can't find it in him to care.

;

The raven haired man doesn't remember dozing off as he was wary too - not that he didn't trust the man in the boat with him it was just you could never be too careful with people these days, everything is precious when the worlds gone mad. But of course the man didn't harm him or push him overboard - He said he'd take him there and even gave Mark advice. He lets a steady breath out one that, he didn't realize he was holding and that seems enough to get the mans attention who nods his way. Mark is grateful really, that the man ain't a talker who gave or asked for a life story.

And soon hes arriving on land and wishing the man farewell and that Mark truly owes him one. He'd pay the guy if he could.

Now to see that scientist. Its odd, the pretty views do nothing to settle his nerves - he feels on edge here, a place he doesn't belong and to be honest, he isn't sure what hes going to do when he comes face to face with this idiot, might just kill him there and then. This guy is the cause to all of his problems and some of the worlds and rightfully, there's a rage burning up within his soul.

;

The lab out shadows most, even now -- but its run down you can tell from the outside, lights flickering on and off, cracks in the glass. Its a representation of what went wrong. Mark breathes.

He knocks on the door once, twice, thrice as it rattles through the lab and Mark isn't sure why hes expecting an answer but however, he gets one.

A man in a lab coat stands before him with bags under his eyes that Mark knows sleep cannot cure; his eyes are blue yet so void of their color.

Mark barges his way past the man before he can open his mouth or stop him, hes here for a reason.

'Revenge is not always the way.' rings through his head and he tries to shake it off.

;

"You are the scientist who tried to cure something yet brought up another, correct?" Mark asks, even though he knows the answer already but maybe something in his gut needs to hear it - he can tell because the rumor about the loss of his arm is true, metal fingers flexing by his sides, a nervous thing perhaps.

The man turns away, eyes closed momentarily as if he hasn't been asked this very question a hundred times in a hundred different ways and of course, its the same answer every time - doesn't make it easier. Jack assumes this is another grief ridden soul at his door, asking for something he does not have.

"Yes and I am sorry for everything you have lost." Mark grits his teeth and tries not to snap because sorry does not bring any of his family back nor does it cure him.

"I am among the infected. I want to help find a cure."

Jack locks eyes with the stranger upon his door step. This was new, people had turned up here demanding a cure rather than asking to help find one and ever since it happened of course Jack has been trying to find another cure, to un-do his mistakes the ones that he can; for those who are still living. He carries the guilt of each life lost on his shoulders maybe that's why hes always hunched over; mental grief among physical too much to carry.

But Jack is wary of the strangers has to be; what if they find a cure and he takes it for himself -- although that'd be one less infected it won't do any good for the world outside, the world that hates Jack. He doesn't want to be the hero; just right his wrongs.

He wants to cure the world before he dies, its been plaguing him more than any disease could for years.

"Whats in it for you?" Jack asks, accent thick and laced with curiosity.

"Well, you cure me first." Mark responds, taking a stubborn stance.

The scientist takes a moment and sighs, decides that he could use all the help he could get nowadays.

Jack agrees; He cannot pretend that he doesn't need somebody and this stranger can help.

;

Mark may have never understood sciences in school but here - hes ever the observer, speaking to Jack whom let him stay because he had no where else to go, Jack who he still looks at and in his heart it makes him rage but nonetheless he shifts it because he needs a cure.

Jacks lab is one of the most futuristic things hes ever laid hazel eyes upon; its not as clinical as you think it would be rather laced with fading color, the silver and rather cold looking tables which held numerous looking gadgets Mark couldn't even begin to name.

Ripped papers scattered across the tiled flooring, hand writing messy and some things scribbled out. Perhaps they were thrown out of frustration; Mark isn't sure.

Nonetheless they sit and fill blank pages with all the things Jack has tried in his cure and what they could try. It'd be a little bit tougher with the electricity running low but they would just have to make do, the world was changing and the more time went on the more people became infected - the more time, the worse Mark would get and he wanted them to be close to a cure before he lost all his wits.

;

Over time, Mark learns how Jack works; Hes like a hurricane really, running around like he has a sort of deadline, demanding Mark passed him some odd gadget from the silver tables - almost like a surgeon. He always refers back to his notes though.

He learns too, some of Jacks emotions bleed through when hes mumbling over a microscope. He speaks in small bursts; little things like 'I didn't mean for this to happen.' or 'Maybe I can never fix this.' and Mark then tells him he should call it quits for the day.

Jack is a broken man, he knows; His broken pieces are visible - how he carries himself, the bags under his eyes and the twitching when Mark goes to tap him on the shoulder. Perhaps he is sorry for what hes done -- maybe it does haunt him as much as it haunts the people who have lost.

There are no winners here.

Mark realizes that when Jack is mumbling its mostly to himself but he responds sometimes anyway, curiosity getting the better of him and at least Jack offers him some in sight but Mark is quick to notice that Jack leaves so much unsaid and it bothers him really, Mark wants to know what goes on in his head but does not push it.

Hes just another infected, poisoned, however you wish to put it; - soul who turned up at his door with a purpose other than to scream at him as much as Mark wanted too but he feels as though Jack has heard that enough.

;

"What if you just do the opposite of what you did before? Like reverse what you did with the last 'Cure'?" Mark asks through a yawn, shutting his eyes briefly - they've been at it for hours and his thoughts are becoming clouded with tiredness.

He can't see the look upon Jacks features in the darkness but he hears the gasp he lets out and he thinks he on to something.

"I'll begin working; You go to bed." Jacks accent is thick coated with sleepiness and Mark finds it hard to understand what he just mumbled but agrees nonetheless.

It'll be a long process he knows and Mark just hopes he doesn't lose his mind before they find the cure.

;

The morning comes and Jacks a mess - he looks ready to lose his mind; presumably formulas scattered every where and his eye is twitching.

"Have you been at this all night?" Mark asks a little guilty that he went to bed and Jack did not.

The man in question nods and Mark has to physically pull him away from his work telling him that he won't get anywhere if hes this tired. He protests but eventually goes and Mark looks over his work and takes some notes, cleans up the place a bit too.

Its odd, months ago when he arrived with a heavy heart and revenge clouded him Mark would have throttled Jack given the chance and now his heart is a little less heavy - the need for revenge not as great as it was. Seeing Jack here, hes paying for his mistakes. Hell, he's even trying to fix them and although it won't right some wrongs Mark thinks that's good enough for him, to see the man trying to fix what he can.

'Revenge isn't always the way.' Maybe the man in the boat was right.

;

Progress is made daily, they work surprisingly well together; Mark learning a lot about theorems and seeing Jack work is rather fascinating.

But all was not well for either of them. Mark, to put it simply is slipping.

His patience is wearing thin and there's a little voice at the back of his head that seems to be getting louder and louder, a presence he can't seem to ignore and maybe it causes his gaze to linger upon sharp objects. There's a growing darkness inside of him; he knows, just doesn't admit it.

And Jack with the weight of the world upon his shoulders the cracks are starting to show. He's working overtime to get this cure done so he can shift some of the guilt but its not helping his cause and hes getting old and having Mark here helps slightly but hes still on edge, however they are getting closer and closer, which Jack supposes is a victory yet doesn't feel like it.

Two broken pieces, it seemed.

;

The cure isn't finalized, far from it - but its there in the thin tube, a purple-ish color completely different from the one that infected others. But he still has to test it and hes not sure if its safe, there's a lot of worry. Jack was going to ask Mark is he'd try it but wanted to make sure everything was in order first.

Turns out he didn't get a choice when the man in question stood in the door way with a knife in his hands. It feels like the oxygen in the room has been completely sucked out and Jacks suffocating. There is panic blooming in his chest like a thousand flowers in the spring time and Marks footsteps echo in the now eerie lab.

"Mark?" Jack calls out, hopeless. Because this isn't the man hes used to; his eyes are almost void with color and there's no expression upon his face. Time seems to stand still as he lunges for Jack who reaches for the tube and in a panic avoids the man with the knife and throws the purple liquid over him.

The reaction is immediate and he falls to the floor with a bang, the knife falling from his hands and scattering across the floor.

Jack rushes to his aid, and struggles to lift him to a bed where he can run tests, hes panicking now because he could have killed the raven haired man, maybe too much cure; or not enough he doesn't know.

He stabilizes the man from going into some kind of shock and listens to his labored breathing. He monitors the mans vitals, sees how his brain reacts.

Its a long few hours, Jack never leaving the mans side in case something changes but it appears hes okay, but Jack wont make the mistake twice, will make sure that this doesn't make things worse.

The man in question opens his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust; and his eyes are there usual inviting hazel color and Jack breathes a sigh of relief. His hand twitches underneath Jacks and he didn't even realize his hand was over Marks until he moves it away.

"What happened?" Mark asks, and Jack doesn't know how to answer trying to gather his words he breathes and turns away from the hazel eyes interrogating him.

"I had to try the 'cure' out on you." Marks eyes seem to soften, like he knows.

"I'm sorry." Jack shakes his head, in a way; Jack did this to him - Mark shouldn't apologize.

"My fault, it seemed to have worked though but I will need to make sure everything stays stable, I don't need another national infection on my hands again." Jack sighs, getting up to stretch his legs from being seated in the uncomfortable chair for too long.

"You might've done it." Mark mumbles lowly and Jack keeps walking, at what cost? He thinks.

;

The next process after Jack is certain there are no other side effects to the batch is making a lot of it, following things exactly as they are written messily on the paper, one wrong move and it could all go wrong. Then when they have a lot of the stuff, whatever is in it Mark wonders, they'll test it on the willing; Of course that'll be the hardest part because people made the mistake of trusting a scientist, Mark presumes it'll be his job to find people willing enough to try it. He sighs, well it worked for him and hes still trying to come to terms that hes actually cured, just like that.

He gazes at the hurricane of a man in front of him and sees the physical effect is all had on him and Mark has to say hes worried. Jack looks frail almost. All of this cant be easy, he realizes.

As soon as Jack is one hundred and ten percent sure of his work, Mark takes to the 'town' of Ireland; its not much of a town really, just a hollow shell of what one used to be. Mark isn't sure that screaming about how he was cured from the infection will wash.

So, he takes a different approach to a scruffy looking man by an ally.

"You heard about purp?" He asks, casually; Setting an invisible trap for the man, throwing his morals out the door.

"Purp?" The man asks, interest piqued and caught in Marks trap.

"Yknow that drug that stops the infection for awhile? Got my hands on some and hooo boy, it sure works." Mark leans against the wall behind him.

"Where can I get some?" The man clearly desperate, wonders.

Mark, like every good drug dealer, pulls some in a test tube out of his pocket.

"Spread the word about purp." He mumbles before handing the man it, and he gratefully takes.

Not the best way to sell a new cure to the world but it was a start.

;

Its only a few weeks before 'purp' is one of the most talked about things. Everyone wondering where and how they can get their hands on some, Mark takes walks through the town daily before he sneaks off to Jacks lab to tell him that they're making visible progress and to get more, Marks selling it for an easy price or sometimes just handing it out for free and helping the lab return to its former glory. Alas, he can't return its owner to their former glory though and he seems to be just going down hill, his complexion fading almost.

So it comes as a shock from a rather productive day, a large part of Ireland buzzing again for the drug known as purp - when Jack tells him the cure in great detail and Marks making sure he understands, there's a bad feeling in his gut.

"I'm dying." Jack states and Mark sort of knew this but didn't want to admit it.

"Before I do, I need you to spread purp as you call it, everywhere. I need people to know I tried. I need you to cure the world." Mark understands and its like Jack held matches in his heart and ignited a fire in his heart because he wants that, too.

"Go, in the morning; I don't have long and start spreading it - keep this lab alive and make as much as you can just follow my notes."

Mark nods, there's a lot on his shoulders but he feels he owes this to the scientist to carry some of his weight.

;

It spreads like wildfire almost, purp is the most talked about thing and other countries as asking for some and Ireland seems to be looking more lively, people no longer afraid of becoming infected, although Mark isn't sure how many people weren't infected.

Next stop is another boat trip back to his 'home' of sorts. As soon as he mentions that he has purp, the captain, a female this time with blonde hair lets him on the boat. Hes thankful that this one doesn't let half the damn ocean into it.

;

He kicks open the creaky door to the bar, the same one he met the man that told him revenge was not the best way and plonks a batch of purp in the middle of the room which in return gets a few gasps and Mark hasn't said anything yet.

"I brought this purp all the way from Ireland. Its free, but my only wish is that you spread it with others let them know there's something out there too help. The scientist I seeked out is trying to fix things, he cannot bring back the dead but he can bring back the living." Mark speaks, his voice booming around the bar, then it falls silent and Mark is worried hes going to get thrown out until the girl behind the bar starts clapping and then so is the entire bar.

Mark distributes the purp out in the streets and a reporter, something he hasn't seen in years questions him on the drug.

"Yes, its safe. I know how to make more I just need people to know that the scientist that once infected you all is curing you. I know it can't cure the dead but surely the living are worth curing too?"

Soon, purp is global and Marks returning to Ireland with good news; and it seems the world has woken up from its rest, people out in the streets -- No longer afraid of infection and it makes the raven haired mans heart happy puts in a spring in his step, even.

;

The lab is in working order, windows still cracked but lights beaming through the place. He enters slowly, calling out to let Jack know he wasn't an intruder.

"Jack?" Hes met with silence but Jacks probably just working away and didn't hear him, tends to shut most noise out when he does.

He enters the place in which the pair worked almost endlessly for nearly two years, his footsteps echoing.

Jacks lying in his bed, the one that Mark woke up in after the incident and hes gone.

It hurts and Mark rushes over to his body, his feet heavy suddenly.

Hes on his knees next to the bed, tears falling from his irises.

"You did it." He utters to the un-responding body.

;

When he returns 'home' for a second time, it feels like there's rain clouds upon his insides. Everyone is praising him for bringing purp to people's attention but Mark knows hes not the real hero of this tale, and he mutters so when he raises a glass of his long overdue beer to the scientist. He decides there and then, that he'll carry on what Jack intended to do, keep curing people and making sure people knew that he, was the hero; not Mark.

;

'HERE LIES;

Sean 'Jack.' McLoughlin (Mark still cannot believe Jack wasn't his real name, still feels kind of guilty for snooping around his lab.)

'Scientist that saved the world.' Its only right, Mark thinks as he lays a single rose upon the green grass.

There's a statue built for him too, some people protested against it but Mark fought for it to have its rightful place. He still works in the lab even got those windows fixed, hes carrying on Jacks legacy - the man made his mistakes and paid for them but he did the right thing.

'Scientist that saved the world.' Jack was.

'Scientist saving the world.' Mark is.