Disclaimer: Sky High belongs to Disney, not me.
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She was tired. Bone tired. And she looked it.
Warren whimpered in his sleep, unconsciously reaching out. His bear was on the floor. Alannah picked it up and placed it in his arms. Warren hugged the battered, singed teddy bear in a death grip. Alannah tucked the sheets and blankets around him. She was already dressed and ready to go, but she didn't want to wake him. Not yet.
She should have known something like this was going to happen. She knew that Garrison Battle was headed down the wrong path. Everyone had known it. They told her, they told her and told her, that saying yes to Garrison's proposal would ruin her life. But she said yes anyways, and married him as soon as she graduated.
It wasn't long after that that he began to sink into villainy. It just seemed to fit him better than being a hero. She had remained a heroine herself, using the name Pax. She wasn't the strongest of heroes- in fact, she probably should have been a sidekick. But nevertheless, she continued to use her powers for good, until the day she fainted in the middle of a press release and she discovered she was five weeks pregnant.
Alannah looked over at her sleeping child. It was nine o'clock, and the trial was in an hour. She had to wake him.
"Warren," she whispered, stroking his warm cheek. "Warren, it's time to wake up, darling."
He blinked awake slowly, confused at his surroundings. "Mommy-"
"It's all right, darling," Alannah soothed, bending to kiss his forehead. "Remember, we're staying at the hotel?" The four-year-old's furrowed brow smoothed out, but he still looked solemn. "Get up and get dressed, sweetheart." Warren nodded and slid out of bed. His tee shirt hung off of his small shoulder. Alannah helped him out of pajamas and into the nicer clothes she'd laid out the night before.
She should be wearing her hero uniform, but she chose not to. She'd rather come to the trial as the normal, everyday, ordinary wife of Garrison Battle, rather than the superhero wife of a supervillain on trial.
Warren silently handed his mother a hairbrush. She smiled at him and drew the brush through his light brown hair. Garrison had always thought that Warren looked better with longer hair. Alannah pulled it back into a short stub of a ponytail, although a few stubborn wisps still hung over his eyes. "There we are," she said, tucking a loose strand behind his ear. "Let's go get some breakfast, all right?"
"Rodney too," Warren said.
"Rodney too," she agreed. He picked up his teddy bear. "Come on, sweetheart."
The hotel was sleazy, but it was all she could afford. The bank had frozen all of their assets when Garrison had been brought in, and she hadn't worked since Warren was born. She had taken a job at a local Chinese restaurant as a waitress six months ago when Garrison had been arrested, but it hadn't paid enough to put them up in a decent hotel. At least she felt safe bringing Warren to work. Lixue Ying had taken the toddler under her wing, treating him like her own grandson.
Warren didn't eat much, but she coaxed him into eating a cinnamon roll. She didn't feel like eating much either, but she knew it was going to be a long day for both of them. Afterwards they took the bus to the courthouse, Warren clinging tightly to her hand. Alannah let him play with her long hair; somehow he had always found it soothing to run his fingers through it.
They arrived at the courthouse by ten till. There was a barrage of reporters and photographers outside, but they were too busy looking for the arrival of the Commander and Jetstream to notice a slim, pale young woman with a toddler slip into the building.
Alannah took a seat near the back and settled Warren on her lap. He nestled against her, hugging Rodney the bear to his small chest. They wouldn't be called up for quite a while, she expected.
The Commander and Jetstream entered with the usual acclaim and flood of reporters that heralded the arrival of heroes. Warren stared at them, fascinated. "Mommy," he whispered. "Why aren't you wearing your pretty dress too?"
"Mommy doesn't want to be recognized, sweetheart," she said.
"I like your pretty dress," he stated. Displeased, he stuck his thumb in his mouth. Normally she would try to dissuade him, but today he would need all of the comfort he could get.
The trial proceeded with all of the usual witnesses. Everyone had known that Baron Battle was a villain, but they needed the right opportunity to catch him. The Commander apprehended him attempting to steal toxic waste, in an attempt to use it on ordinary people into superheroes. That had been Garrison's greatest belief, that if everyone was a hero it would be easier on everyone.
Garrison, it was commonly known, was a bit delusional.
But she loved him. She had been a freshman and he a senior, but his smoldering eyes completely melted her. He courted her throughout that year, calling her his girl and treating her like a lady. When he discovered that her name was Irish for "dear child," he persisted on calling her that. She loved his attentions, the first real attention she'd been paid since she was a child. The day after her graduation, she married him. Warren was born a year later.
And now five years had passed. A great deal can happen in five years.
The Commander was at the stands. Alannah remembered him from her freshman year. He had been a nice boy, an All-American boy. Even now he still had the charm he'd possessed as the student body president at Sky High. He spoke clearly and evenly at the witness stand, delivering his statements without embellishment or exaggeration. Her heart thanked him for that. It was hard enough to endure her husband's trial without a snobby superhero pushing himself into the spotlight.
The lawyers completed their grilling of the Commander. She sensed a wave of restlessness shifting through the audience. They thought the witnessing was over. But they had no idea.
"The prosecution calls Alannah Battle to the stands."
The audience burst into full-blown chatter. Alannah Battle? A sister? He can't have a daughter. A wife? No! Baron Battle can't have a wife!
Alannah lifted Warren off of her lap, setting him on the chair. He stared up at her, Rodney clutched in his arms and his thumb still in his mouth. "Stay here and be good for Mommy," she murmured. She made her way to the witness stand, feeling the eyes of the audience boring into her with their questions and gossip.
"Mrs. Battle, do you swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" the bailiff said.
"I do," she murmured. She sat down on the seat, tucking the skirt of her navy dress under her thighs.
"Mrs. Battle, you've been married to Baron Battle for how long?" the lawyer asked.
"Five years," she said. She hated hearing him referred to as "Baron" Battle. He was Garrison, not a baron.
"Five years," the lawyer repeated, casting a glance towards the jury. Alannah folded her hands in her lap. "And how long did you know the defendant?"
Alannah's fingers twisted mercilessly. "I met him when I was fourteen, and he was eighteen," she said. "We were married four years later."
"Four years, and five years of marriage," the lawyer said, calculating mentally. "So nine years, Mrs. Battle? Nine?"
"Yes," she said. She noticed the Commander staring at her, trying to place her face. He didn't remember her.
"And in these nine years, did you ever think that Baron Battle would try some nefarious plot?"
"Garrison," she mumbled.
"Pardon?"
"Please, my husband's name is Garrison," she said.
"Fine," the lawyer conceded. "Did you ever think that Garrison Battle would attempt some kind of plot?"
"He…he had plans, but I never knew what was really going on," she said.
"What about in your personal life, Mrs. Battle?" the lawyer continued. "Were there any circumstances in your married life where you could see the moral deterioration of Garrison Battle."
"No!" she said hastily, vehemently. Perhaps too hasty and vehement. She saw members of the jury look at each, raising eyebrows and scribbling notes.
"Thank you, Mrs. Battle," the lawyer said. "That will be all."
Alannah stepped down, her knees trembling. She started back down the aisle to her seat, avoiding the sometimes pitying, sometimes scathing glances that the audience shot at her.
"The prosecution now summons Warren Battle to the stand."
Alannah stopped. Warren stared at her, eyes wide. He didn't even know what the prosecution was. How could they call a four-year-old to be a witness? She rushed over to him, pulling him into her arms. He grabbed at the fabric of her dress, his teddy bear squished between them.
"You can't bring him up there," Alannah said, her voice rising, almost hysterically, above the mumbles of the crowd. "Please, please don't make him go up there."
"Your Honor, he's just a child." The Commander stood up, tall and imposing in his uniform. "I don't think it would be a good idea."
The judge waved his hand. "The lawyer called him, so let him come up," he said.
"Mommy?" Warren whimpered.
Alannah pressed her lips to the top of his head and set him down on the floor. "Please be gentle with him," she murmured desperately.
The bailiff heard her. He bent down to the little boy's eyelevel, holding out the Bible and coaxing him to place his small hand on the worn leather cover. "You promise not to lie while you're up there?" he asked Warren softly. The wide-eyed child nodded. The bailiff sent him a reassuring grin.
The lawyer, however, was not as kind.
"Tell us your name," he said.
"Warren Gabriel Battle," he said quietly, clutching his bear to his chest. "And this is Rodney. He's kind of ugly, but I like him." The audience tittered softly at the child's innocence.
"And what are your parents' names?"
"My mommy is Alannah. She's over there," Warren said, pointing to his white-faced mother.
"And your father?"
"Ga'ison Battle," he replied, lisping over the r's.
"Now, son, do you-"
"You're not Daddy," Warren objected.
"What?"
"You're not my daddy, so you can't call me son."
The lawyer sighed. "Warren, I need you to tell me about your mommy and daddy," he said. "Do they argue a lot?"
"Daddy yells," Warren said matter-of-factly. "And Mommy cries."
Alannah felt herself tensing.
"And does your daddy ever hurt you and your mommy?"
The little boy squirmed on the witness stand. "He hurt Rodney once," he said softly. "He ripped his arm off. Mommy sewed it back up."
The lawyer leaned over the bar, coming closer to the child's face. "Has he hurt you?"
"Rodney didn't like it. He liked his arm the way it was. And then Daddy took it off," Warren babbled on. Alannah closed her eyes.
"I need you to answer the question!" the lawyer barked.
Warren hid behind his teddy bear. "Sometimes!" he sobbed. "Sometimes Daddy would get real mad, okay! He'd be real mad, and Mommy would make me hide away, but she'd cry! She'd cry real loud, and then Daddy would go away for a long long time!" The toddler hid his face behind the bear, bursting into loud, terrified sobs. Alannah tried to push her way towards him, but the police officer blocked her as the lawyer turned to the jury, a smug look on his face as he proved his point.
"Let me get to my child!" she protested.
"Protocol, ma'am," the police officer said.
She was trapped, unable to get to her sobbing child, but someone else could. The Commander stood up and strode over to the witness stand. He picked Warren up easily; he continued to cry into the worn fur of his beloved bear. "Hey, there," the Commander said softly, patting his back lightly. "Hey, your mom's right here." He leaned over the railing and handed the terrified four-year-old to his mother.
Alannah grabbed Warren. He wrapped his arms tightly around her neck, clinging to her in desperation. "It's all right, Warren, it's all right, my baby," she soothed. She pressed kisses on his wet cheeks. "Mommy's here. Mommy's got you."
"I'm sorry they did that to him," the Commander whispered. "I have a son of my own, a little younger than him. I wouldn't want him to go through this." He patted Alannah's shoulder; she was surprised that a hero with super-strength could be so completely gentle. "I really am sorry."
"It's all right," she murmured. Warren hiccupped, his tears soaking into the shoulder of Alannah's dress. "Just…if you'll excuse me…"
She could sense Steve Stronghold's eyes on her as she took her seat again, snuggling Warren in her lap. He trembled with last vestiges of sobs. Alannah whispered soft words in his ear as she rocked him, nestling Rodney in his arms and letting him suck on his thumb.
The rest of the trial passed in a blur. All she was sensible of was Warren's whimpering. He was still terribly frightened, and it hurt her. And she hated the knowledge that she was the one who hurt her child. If only she hadn't married Garrison Battle. If only she hadn't turned a blind eye to his comings and goings. If only, if only.
The jury filed out to make their decision on the status of Baron Battle. Alannah made her way out of the courtroom, hugging Warren and attempting to avoid the paparazzi.
"Mrs. Battle, could you give us any information on your husband?"
"Mrs. Battle, can you confirm your son's words about abuse?"
"Mrs. Battle!"
"Mrs. Battle?"
Suddenly Alannah felt an arm around her shoulders. Josie Stronghold guided her through the grounds, disarming the paparazzi with a "No comment" and a charming smile. The superheroine led her through the crowds, away from the demands and the questions and insinuations.
"Are you all right?" Josie asked.
Alannah sighed shakily. "I hope so," she said. Warren let out a sob into Rodney's wet, matted plush.
"Hey, little guy," Josie said, smoothing his hair. "Hey, your mama's got you. You'll be okay." She looked up at his mother. "Are you going to be all right, Alannah?"
Alannah smiled, even though her lips quivered slightly. "You remember me?" she asked.
"Of course I do," Josie said. "I remember Garrison too, back in our Sky High days. You two seemed like such a sweet couple."
"We were," Alannah said. "Are." She rubbed her knuckle against her eye.
"What are you going to do now?" Josie asked. "You know the jury's going to convict him."
"I've got a job," she answered. "And I'm going to change back to my maiden name, just to keep us from being stalked by the public at large."
"Do you think you'll ever go back to hero work?" Josie asked quietly, still rubbing her hand along Warren's thin back. He sucked on his thumb, his index finger resting against his nose.
"I don't think I can," Alannah said. "Not with all of this going on."
"I understand," Josie said. "Take care, Alannah."
"You too, Josie."
The newspapers noted that neither Alannah Battle nor four-year-old Warren Battle attended the final trials of Baron Battle, where a jury pronounced him guilty and sentenced him to a life sentence in solitary, with slim chance of parole. Further inquiries to find them resulted in wild goose chases, as the Battles were no longer to be found at their previous telephone number or address. Gradually the public forgot about them.
But, perilously nearby, a woman Trista Peace could be found at the Paper Lantern, the only non-Chinese waitress at the Oriental restaurant. When patrons commented on the similar looks between her and the little boy who handed out fortune cookies at the end of the meal, she would smile and introduce him proudly as her son Warren. But the patrons also noticed the profound sadness in her face, and note the serious expressions of the very young woman and her very young child.
As the years went by, the patrons of the Paper Lantern became familiar with the pretty but quiet young woman, and her solemn son. They both worked there, especially as the boy grew older and his mother grew weaker, and he took over her shifts. And more often than not, Trista wasn't there, and Warren worked double time for the both of them.
Some commented that the mother and son looked familiar. Some said they seemed too familiar, too notorious, to be simple waitstaff in a small Chinese restaurant. But they always shrugged it off.
Peace is too far removed from Battle to find any connection between the two, but sometimes, only sometimes, the sad woman became the dear child once more, when she remembered the way her husband's eyes would smolder, and he would treat her like a princess.
But that, too, would pass. And she would be the sad one once more.
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Author's
Notes:
"Trista" means "sadness."
I love Warren. The smoldering eyes…mmm…
I wish we'd learned more in the film about Warren's family. Oh, well. I'll just make something up.