Miko: So here is that story I hinted at in Flashes of You. These two stories are in no way related so you don't need to read one to read the other. I hope you enjoy this one. I don't know how long it is going to end, but it will probably be the longest story I've ever written. Enjoy!
Reviews aren't necessary, but they let me know that I'm doing things right...or wrong. They also encourage me to work faster. -hinthintnudgenudge-
Also, I'd love ideas for a title. I have no idea what to title my stories. Feel free to PM me or just leave an idea as a review.
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone in this story.
Summary: Matt is a young boy who has a lot to learn about life...and love. He is born for greatness, but wants mediocrity. Which path will he end up following?
Rocky Start
I will always remember the day that I first met Wammy, though I suppose I should remember it as the day my parents died. Even as a child I didn't depend on adults for anything. From the time I learned how to walk, the local gang adopted me. They were ruthless, using me and then leaving me to find my way home or die. I suppose I would have lived with them if not for the particular way my parents died.
My father was an alcoholic from birth. My mother was his punching bag when he couldn't hold in the drink, which was nearly every night. In turn, my mother took it out on me. One night, my mother brought home a gun, though who would sell one to her I will never know. Before my father could even slam the door, she put a bullet in his stomach, heart and head. I cowered on the chair where I had been sorting through the spoils I had dug from the trash earlier in the day. When she turned to me, I grabbed a handful of my treasures and ran.
Thankfully, she was drunk so her aim at a moving target was bad, but I was flung forward as a bullet glazed the top of my head and one found home in my left shoulder. She must have thought I was dead because I heard one more shot and a thud as she fell to the floor. I don't know how long I lay there, dazed and dizzy from blood loss, but it seemed like an eternity.
When the police came, I gave a moan, hoping to draw attention to myself, but no one heard me. Finally, one of them nearly stepped on me. I was lucid enough to answer their questions – name, age, what happened, did I have any other family. Mail Jeevas. Five. Drunk rage. No family.
I never learned the name of the officer who found me but his face is burned in my memory. He was young, maybe early twenties, with blond hair and bright blue eyes. His uniform wasn't faded and the metal was still gleaming. I could imagine that was his first day on the job and felt sorry for him, so I told him so as he sat with me in the ambulance.
"Sorry for what, kid?" He asked, sparing me a smile.
"For causing you all this trouble." I said. His smile never faltered.
"Don't sweat it, kid. Just a day in the life." He said. I was surprised to hear the slang I was used to from the gangs, but I didn't have time to dwell on it when I realized my right hand was clenched around a hard object. I looked down and saw a pair of old, cracked goggles. The lenses were amber, almost gold. They must have been from the trash I tried to save, but they were clearly worthless. The officer must have followed my gaze because he made a sound of sympathy.
"I bet you can get a new pair as soon as you're out of the hospital." Until he spoke the word, I had not realized where we were going. My only experience with doctors was not good, so my instant reaction was to try and escape. The EMT standing beside me easily stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.
"Let me out! I don't need a doctor!" I turned all the strength in my five year old body to fighting. My fight came to an abrupt stop when I swung with my left arm. The scream that ripped from my throat sounded more like an animal shriek then a human cry of pain. I vaguely remember the policeman restraining me before I felt an overwhelming drowsiness overcame me.
When I woke again, I was laying in a bed with my arms and legs strapped down. I blinked my eyes a few times to clear my vision, then I turned my head to survey the room. The walls were cold and white, and the single window was open to the night sky. When I moved too quickly, a stab of pain ripped through my shoulder to my head, eliciting a weak groan.
"How do you feel Mail?" I didn't recognize the voice or the face as an older man appeared in my line of sight. "Quite a day you've had."
"My mom tried to shoot my brains out. How do you think I am?" Apparently my answer was amusing because the man let out a chuckle. "And I go by Matt, not Mail." I added. I had given myself that nickname when I realized the only use I had to others was the same as the mats outside a house. You wipe your feet on them and then leave them dirty and ripped outside. I wouldn't have told him if he asked, but he didn't.
"I'm Quillish Wammy. But please call me Watari." I strained against my bonds, struggling to escape the man's gaze. I hated feeling vulnerable and he seemed to realize that because he pulled out a key.
"I can only let you out if you promise not to try to run. I assure you, if you do attempt to escape you will be caught and tied to this bed under security." As he spoke, he unlocked my ankles and my wrists. They had not been tight enough to fully cut off the circulation, but my fingers and toes still tingled when they were released.
"Who are you?" I asked, sitting up despite the pain in my left shoulder.
"All in good time, my boy!" He took a seat on the end of my bed and I scooted to the head of the bed to be as far away as possible. "First, I'd like to know what happened to you. You said earlier that your mother 'tried to blow your brains out'? Do you know why that is?"
"Course." I said. I was only five but I wasn't stupid. I told him that.
"I never thought you were." For some reason, I believed him. "In fact I believe you are quite the opposite. You are one of the most brilliant children I have encountered." Now I was skeptical. In my opinion, adults didn't suck up to children unless they wanted something and I had nothing to give.
"Why are you here?" I asked. "What do you want from me?" I was starting to hurt again, a dull throbbing emanating in my head and shoulder. Evidently my pain showed in my face because Whammy – I would not call him Watari – called for a nurse.
"I am certain we will have time to talk later Matt." He said. "I am not going anywhere and I know you aren't in any condition to be walking away." I mumbled a protest as the nurse injected some kind of pain killer sedative in my IV. I tried to struggle but Wammy's hands were firmly on my upper arms, holding me down.
"Sleep, Matt. We will talk when you wake up."
No one was in the room when I woke up again. I briefly considered ripping out my IV and trying to escape but I knew I was too weak to make it far. On the off chance that I made it to my old hom, I knew my gang wouldn't take me back only to be a drain on their limited resources. Instead, I decided to take advantage of the rest and food the hospital was providing and put off my escape.
"Hungry?" A friendly looking woman came into the room pushing a tray of food. I nodded and she brought the tray to me and exposed its contents. There was a mush of white that I took to be potatoes, a cup of orange fruit and a cup of pudding. None of that attracted my attention, however. My eyes were glued to the formless slab of meat sitting in the middle of the plate.
"I know it doesn't look good dear, but it'll be good for you. Build up your strength." I didn't even reply because I was worried she might realize she was in the wrong room and take the food away. Instead, I picked up the meat and bit into it. She said it didn't look good, but it was the best meal I had had in years. The meat was gone too quickly and was followed by the rest of the mush on the plate. The orderly who had brought the food was long gone, and when I finished I was alone in the room.
I was just beginning to wonder if the old man was going to come back when I saw him appear in the door with a boy following him. The boy looked to be in his teens – 12 as I learned later. He appeared uninterested in his surroundings as he stood slumped behind the man. His clothes were ironed and his shoes were bright, but he looked uncomfortable.
"This is the boy I was telling you about L. His name is Matt." I watched the boy take in the news with nothing more than a flick of his eyes at me. Watari didn't seem to want or expect a response. "He is five years old, but his test scores are better than yours at that age."
"That is most impressive." The boy – L – said. His face was pale, but his black eyes were bright as they met mine. For the first time he showed interest. "However most children peak early. There is only a 4.4% chance a child testing that high will amount to anything in life." Most of the speech was over my head, but I understood he was insulting me.
"What do my scores have to do with anything?" I asked. I glared at him harshly as I could manage, but he didn't seem upset.
"I am headmaster of a very special orphanage, Matt." Watari said. "And I believe you would fit in quite well."
"Why would you want me?" I asked. I remembered the day I had taken the test. It was my first day in kindergarten and the teacher was young. She had been impressed that at I had taught myself to read and wanted to get my tested into a higher grade. I never went back so I didn't know how the test had gone. Obviously it was good enough to get the attention of this English man.
"You are brighter than most adults, Matt." L said. It was the first time he had spoken to me. "What Watari will not say is that his school is for genius children. He pays for their education and sets them up in major careers around the world. The ultimate goal is to find the world's greatest detective. I am the only contender at this moment as the two ahead of me killed themselves from the pressure. You are obviously qualified to handle the stress and your scores are good enough. The life is not easy, but you would rot in a public orphanage. So the only logical choice would be for you to check out today and come to the orphanage tonight."
I was enamored by the well spoken boy. He was everything I had envisioned for myself. His appearance was deceiving. He kept his hair long and I was sure he didn't even know what a brush was, let alone soap. He slouched while standing as though aware that he was taller than most people instead of embracing it. But as soon as he opened his mouth I knew he was far smarter than the CEO's who dressed well.
"Fine." I said. I knew I had no choice, really. I knew that everything L said was right. Wammy was no longer in the room with us. I suppose he had gone to order the paperwork, but now that I was alone with the genius boy, I didn't know what else to say. He sat in the lone chair with his legs drawn up to his chest and his thumb in his mouth. I clung to my broken goggles, fingering them nervously.
"You should get a new pair. Those are useless." I saw no reason to tell L that they weren't really mine. I did not want him to know where I came from, though I was sure he already knew more about me then I did. I had never felt the need to impress anyone like I did with L. The problem was, he didn't seem to care. We waited for nearly fifteen minutes in silence before Wammy came back into the room, beaming.
"Everything is good. You are cleared to come with us, Matt. We have a fully stocked emergency room on campus. Your medical care will not be lacking." I didn't have time to add another word as I was ushered into a wheelchair and out into a limo. L and Wammy walked behind me talking in hushed tones. The car ride was taken in silence. I was beginning to feel weak and the pain medicine was wearing off because the throbbing in my shoulder was increasing every second.
By the time we arrived at the old building I was dizzy. I tried my best to hide it, taking small steps and holding on to anything I could. L didn't notice as he headed into the building with Wammy. I tried not to feel hurt, but I couldn't help the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. Finally, I made it to the front steps. I didn't last long before collapsing in a heap. I was so far gone I didn't feel the pain in my shoulder. I was so out of it that I didn't hear the boy standing over me shouting for help.
