02/09/2010: Edited, condensed into 2 chapters rather than 10 cause the story's unfinished status was bothering me and the other plot bunnies I have can't be expressed in a few hundred words. And put into order... of a sort. Old readers will recognize most of the drabbles - except the very last one in Side B. This used to be called 'Screenplay', but since the oneshots aren't completely random any longer, it got renamed. Enjoy..
Coin Toss
By icecreamlova
Side A: Darkness
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Five Steps on the Road to Hell
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1. Intentions
The problem of justice becomes a question of revenge. Terry Fawles is gone, from life, from the world, and, to tell the truth, from your mind. Valerie Hawthorne barely merits a thought now and then, never mind a word. Good, justice and mercy, do not matter. They lie on one hand; vengeance curls up and hisses on the other. You call it The Greater Good, as if by renaming your intentions, you can change the reality of what they are.
2. Priorities
The father comes to you once. You keep this away from Mia, though you know she'll be crushed when she learns. You think this protects the woman you love. You give false reassurances to the grieving man, then interrogate him on all he knows about his errant daughter. He does not rate a mention. All your thoughts are for her. For the demoness.
4. Ruthless
You will do anything for revenge, but this does not bother you. You have come to terms with this disturbing reality years and years ago. There is a small girl in front of you, though. Little Pearl Fey, cheerful and innocent, so determined to do good. You could tell Trite. You could keep her safe. You should. You would... (But what if she gets away if you interrupt the plan...?) You don't.
5. Obsession
It is her face there-the smooth planes, deceptive eyes. Those braids. Such memories. You must stop her. It's easy-you're larger, right? But you pick up the staff. This is Dahlia. (Misty). Dahlia. (Pearl). Dahlia! Does it matter? You could almost see Mia's eyes, telling you this is not the way. But it drowns in the flood. Dahlia. Dahlia. Dahlia. Vengeance. Your triumph. Dahlia. Her flesh parts like water beneath your blade.
3. Choice
You had a second chance, once, to see the world again. You woke up. Mia was dead, but you were alive, and the road diverged before you. One away from her, you thought, and one to bring justice. You had a second chance. You chose her-you never noticed she was always right beside you, reaching for your shoulder. Because it was always your choice, to take the road to hell. No one else's. And you must have left your sight in death, because you couldn't see the middle path, though she was at the end of it.
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Farsighted
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The first thing on the list of requirements for her husband, which is to say the last, is 'love'.
She scribbles it there to please her mother.
It is a meaningless word, meant to be seen, not followed.
The second is 'power'.
Power to aide her rise. Power to gain from her. Power to call to power. Power to look after himself.
Respect. Control. Wealth. They are all substitutes for the all-important word.
(Substitutes are not enough, she will discover with her first husband. He will be wealthy; it is not power, which her sister has, and that will leave her drowning. It is not power, which her sister's position has, and that will leave the village floundering.)
She adds 'cunning', right before she adds 'ambition'. They are deadly, she knows, and they could destroy her. But Morgan will deal with risks as they are required, to get what she wants. Cunning and ambition will get her what she wants.
She doesn't write 'ruthless', and she doesn't write 'puppet', because she is ruthless enough for the two of them, and that he's a puppet is a given.
(Her second marriage will give her everything she wants, except for Maya's death, but she'll be ruthless and arrange that herself.)
It is a little girl's list, to choose a husband. It is a mastermind's list, a plan to be implemented over twenty years. It will get her what she wants.
Morgan stares down at it when she is done, and turns her face (and heart) away from Misty's giggles (love) at her own ridiculous list, before it changes what she wants.
She dreams of the future.
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Myopic
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The first thing on the list of requirements for her heir, which is to say the last, is 'love'.
Underneath is 'power'. Spiritual power. That's the only kind that matters, she knows now. So it's the only kind there is.
She is pregnant, with twins. Surely ONE of them...
It reminds her of a different list she made, twenty years ago.
But she doesn't write 'cunning', though she does add 'ambitious'. She wants to be the power behind the throne-she will not have a free-spirited daughter. It will jeopardize everything. A smart one will be even worse. What if the daughter turns on her?
She adds 'loyal'.
She writes 'ruthless', then strikes it off quickly when she remembers.
The twins are born-a matching set of flowers, so stunningly beautiful, everyone agrees. One is gentle and kind and agreeable. The other is cunning and ambitious and (compassionately) (but Morgan swiftly puts an end to THAT nonsense) ruthless. Neither have power, of the kind she wants anyway, which is the only kind, thus in Morgan's eyes, both are useless.
Love is not on the list, officially, so it doesn't bother her when her husband leaves her and takes the twins with him. Not one whit. Really. They were her pawns, she tells herself, and just that. She doesn't care at all.
She learns her lesson with them, though she won't admit it, so she's more careful when Pearl is born. Darling child. Her second marriage gives her everything on the list (except ambition, but Morgan will have that drummed into her), and she exalts.
Pearl is strong, with an abundance of the right (only) sort of power.
Pearl is loyal.
Pearl is kind (like Iris, not that it matters.)
Pearl is (compassionately) ruthless (like Dahlia was before she intervened, not that it matters).
The first thing on the list of requirements for her heir, which is to say the last, is 'love'.
It is a meaningless word, meant to be seen, not followed, which is why Morgan is surprised when she holds Pearl for the first time and feels it stirring in her heart again.
She dreams of the past and pushes her love away, so she can take advantage of Pearl's.
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Twins
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"If I had found out she was planning to kill you...I would have done whatever was necessary to stop her. Even if it meant her life... or mine." - Iris, T&T 5
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She hears Dahlia Hawthorne being called a demon: hate-filled eyes and glaring visage, so determined to tear down the sky and crush the world.
That is the decision. The judge and jury have found her guilty, which she is, and sentenced her legacy to be a cold, dark, selfish, cruel woman. Ruthless. She will be remembered in dusty legal tomes or dry documents on computers for this trial only, as the spitting madwoman whose hate reached between worlds. Everything else might not have existed.
Dahlia lied.
Dahlia hated.
Dahlia killed.
Beneath her pity for her sister, throbs a primal, deeper, stronger emotion.
Fear.
She may not be Dahlia, but they are twins, and some traits run in families.
Iris lied too.
She lied for six months: fraud, identity theft, and all those pretties. She was someone else for six months; someone alive. She used Dahlia's credit cards, Dahlia's clothes, Dahlia's friends, Dahlia's luck to live in the real world and have everyone eating out of the palm of her hand. It doesn't matter that she had permission-because she also took Dahlia's tests for her, her papers and assignments.
She lied. She lied even more than Dahlia; she took on someone else's life.
Iris is afraid, because she hated too.
She hated just as passionately as Dahlia-the difference is that she didn't express it the same way.
At first she hated her father. She remembers the way her mother gaped and screamed-anger or misery, she's not sure. Her father had taken this last little hint of pride away from the woman who had lost everything; and she hated him for doing that. She hated him enough to ruin him through theft.
And then she hated the lawyers. They were probably good people. And they were just doing their job. But they were trying to take down her sister, who was everything-her best friend, her other half. She hated them enough that when Dahlia told her one of the lawyers wanted to talk to her again, she didn't try to tell Dahlia to be less ruthless.
It's true that Iris is kinder, more compassionate by nature; charitable to strangers and soft-handed with those she cares about. She shies away from hatred because she has known (felt) so much of it. And she still loves-so deeply that her heart aches. Love guides her every action; she will protect those she loves.
Iris is afraid.
She hasn't killed. That draws a sharp line-there's a huge difference between hatred and murder. Twins, not one person.
Except, if she had known Dahlia's plans for Phoenix...
...The one she hated most was Dahlia. A rush of deadly anger, when she had come to know Phoenix-that bright-eyed boy with deep, subtle intelligence. As her feelings for Phoenix grew, her feelings for Dahlia grew too. She didn't even know it, until she was back at Hazakura and discovered Dahlia had gone ahead with her plan-the flash then and there, love turned to hatred, left to simmer until it boiled beneath the surface of her skin...
Phoenix tells her she is not her sister, because she wouldn't have killed.
Iris thinks he's wrong.
She is not her sister, because she didn't have a chance to.
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"If I had found out she was planning to kill you...I would have done whatever was necessary to stop her. Even if it meant her life... or mine." - Iris, T&T 5
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Baby Steps
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The most insignificant moment can mean so much, Maya will tell her students years later in her moments of tranquil wisdom, but in her memory of that day, she is young, and happy, and as her finger traces slow spirals on the rough grain of her armchair, there are no thought for the future when she watches the baby play.
Aunt Morgan is gone for a few minutes before Maya gets bored, and kneels down on the ground in front of Pearl, who is teething on a toy Magatama.
She sighs. "How long is it going to take you to start walking?"
Pearl turns to look at her, dark eyes huge.
"I'm not trying to pressure you or anything," Maya assures Pearl hastily. "Your cousin Maya would never do something terrible like that! Not even if I was paid... Well, maybe if there's a lot of money involved... you'd just have to buy me off before they do, Pearly."
Pearl has dropped her Magatama, and Maya picks it up and returns it gently to her, with a rebuke that she'll need it. Pearl doesn't seem to care as much for it any more, though: her huge eyes are fixed on Maya, and she seems entranced whenever Maya starts talking.
Maya giggles. To her surprise, a slow smile spreads across Pearl's face.
"Ma!" Pearl says happily.
"Ma-ya," she corrects. She stretches out her hands, and taps Pearl's button nose with a gentle finger. "C'mon, Pearly. Ma-ya. Ma-ya!"
Pearl stares at Maya's swaying hands and lifts her own out, as though she wants a hug.
Maya shakes her head firmly, remembering what Pearly almost accomplished the day before. "You're coming to me, this time. C'mere." She holds out her hands and shakes them a little to get Pearl's attention and presents the most effective bribe she can think of. "If you make it, I'll give you a burger! Then your teeth will grow faster because you'll want the burger so much." She smiles winningly.
Pearl doesn't say anything. She doesn't even cry. Maya's cousin is a tough little girl, though she's only a year old.
Slowly, slowly, she is rising, wobbling as she does so. She stands straight and still, and eyes Maya beseechingly, begging for a hug. It's all Maya can do to refuse those huge, dark, adoring orbs, the intense desire that makes her small face glow.
"Nuh-uh. You did that yesterday. You have to do better."
Pearl frowns, clearly unhappy. She closes her eyes, as if to start wailing, but as she wobbles, they pop open again and she stops.
"Come on," Maya whispers, all else gone. There is something fascinating about watching a very small person doing something for the first time. She holds out her hands and keeps still.
Pearl shifts her weight and takes a step forward, and then another, wobbling and terribly off balance, but she hasn't fallen yet. One more step. Maya whispers gentle encouragement.
There's a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye, but Maya doesn't turn around.
Another wobble sends Pearl flat on her butt. Maya rushes forward, then catches herself. Pearl doesn't even look upset. She is pushing herself up again, as if desperate to reach Maya. On her feet. Another step forward-
Their hands touch, and Maya beams, but it's nothing to the glow on Pearl's vibrantly happy face. She's broken out into a gap-toothed smile. Maya smooths a soft brown curl.
"Ma!"
"Ma-ya," she says, frowning. She supposes Pearl can't get everything the first time.
"Perhaps she was referring to me?" Aunt Morgan's voice murmurs from behind her.
Maya jumps and nearly knocks Pearl over, but turns back quickly. She feels her face going red. She knows how much Morgan's wanted to see Pearl's first steps. She dotes on Pearl, but she is only her cousin.
"It's all right," Morgan says, with a slight smile at the alarm on Maya's face. "I saw everything. You love your cousin, don't you, Maya?"
"Of course!"
The smile widens-very different from Pearl's. "Then it's all right."
It's not all right, but Maya trusts her aunt, so thinks nothing of it when Pearl suddenly has to be napping around the time Maya's allowed to visit. It's only years later that she'll understand Morgan's smile, or that Morgan's whisper of, "Baby steps, first," hadn't been referring only to Pearl.
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Fire and Ice
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Red is useful in the days after State vs. Fawles.
Red is fire, anger, heat, flame, blood, hate.
Gray is misery, despair, ice, stop, flood, wait.
Fire and ice. Mia prefers heat over cold, and knows which one she will close her hands around and take.
Hatred, Mia finds, is a most useful tool indeed. The heat runs from clenched fingers, up her palm, threading through blood until she shivers and trembles both with mental fire. It slinks in her palms, liquid determination, heat from skin to bones. If she needs to find strength to leave her apartment? "Fawles." If she needs to control her irritation with her colleagues? "Dahlia." If she needs to remind herself why she's in this city, when she's tired, tired, tired? "Mother."
But this type of fire, Mia has forgotten, is all-consuming. Burning, raging, crackling, frying, blazing. Destroying. 'Be strong, Mia!' she thinks, leaving her apartment, and flames licks up her ankles. 'Be hard, Mia!' she tells herself, speaking to Mr. Hawthorne, and heat twines around her waist. 'Finish this, Mia!' she resolves, glancing at a portrait of her mother, and the world dies in an inferno of red, to make her keep walking.
"Why aren't you talking to me any longer, Mia?" whispers her little sister, and she falters.
"Why are you becoming like Hawthorne, Kitten?" he says, and she stumbles.
Hating, Mia begins to understand again, when the red has retreated, is not her goal in life. It is an easy tool; in some ways, an effective tool. Just look at her family, she thinks, branch against branch. Bloodlines, one generation after another, turning inward and waging war. Just look at Dahlia Hawthorne, she thinks, feeling kinship without knowing their link in blood. One woman dead, one man gone, and high-heeled shoes clacking away without remorse. This is hate, she knows. This is hate.
Hatred, Mia finds, is hard to shake off. It burns. Heating, teasing, flirting, waiting, pouncing. Hypnotizing. Even when she remembers to push back red, it takes just a name to start hatred blazing again. Misty, Dahlia, Terry. Fey, Hawthorne, Fawles. No cold determination will smother fire, even if her will is as hard as rock, as strong as steel, as wide as an iceberg. No ice is enough, she finds when she tries it.
This is Mia, lost: hatred and apathy, heat and cold, fire and ice. She knows which one she prefers: ice over fire.
But this time, she doesn't take it.
And if she remembers the little things like Misty's warmth, and Maya's smile, and Diego's heart, which she has to save because it is also too much fire, not picking fire and not taking ice, maybe that will be enough.
This is Mia: choosing, trying, loving. This is Mia, facing the difficult task of trying not to hate.
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TBC
R & R, please