What you see is

What I have never tried to be

Just let me breathe

Just take me anywhere but here

Streetfight- Hedley

January, 2006

Sitting in the tidy little sitting room in the middle of suburbia, Drake Stone looks down at his feet, wondering if maybe he should have toned himself down a little. Dressed as he is, with the piercings and two toned hair, and 'tight as skin' jeans with the tears at the knees, he looks out of place. A lot. Like a circus performer in the middle of a funeral. Normally, he doesn't give a damn, enjoying the attention. But now, it's a little uncomfortable.

Especially as he's sitting across from a woman who looks like she's ready for anything from a tea party to running a corporation. All in a ladylike and delicate manner. Christine Ashwood sits in her puffy little armchair, legs crossed politely at the knee as she talks at him. "Terrible what happened with Alan, of course. We never suspected anything. Such a shock." She shakes her head, looking appropriately saddened. "And we were never notified that he'd left an Apprentice."

Drake taps his fingers against the carved arm of the chair, nodding. "Well, yeah. Just up and left. So you don't have anythin' on 'im, d'you?" His Master, the man in charge of training him in sorcery, had left him when he was fifteen. A note, his Incantus, and a boatload of abandonment issues. Now twenty, Drake is beginning his search again for Alan Montgomery. This time a bit more informed than five years ago. Questions asked to the New York Merlinians had directed him to Christine and Hugo Ashwood, Christine having been trained by the same Master as Alan, once upon a time.

Though, seeing her now, he has to wonder how on earth this willowy blonde, so chirpy and proper, could have ever been in contact with Montgomery. Montgomery had been a hard, demanding instructor, often pushing his apprentice to keep practicing without break for hours until he'd mastered a spell.

"No, I'm so sorry." Beside Christine, Hugo Ashwood, her husband, steeples his fingers and eyes the sorcerer across from him. Looks like a perfect match for her, Drake thinks snidely, bloody 'Country Club Ken' to her 'Super Mum Barbie'. "We lost contact with him about the same time as you did."

"It's similar to what happened with our daughter's Master. He left about a year into her training, to go on a pilgrimage to Merlin's Keep. Died four years ago. Tragic. Kathryn was devastated when-." The phone rings in the hall outside the room. Christine gets to her feet, excusing herself.

Drake eyes Hugo, intrigued by the story of his daughter. "Did you keep trainin' your daughter after her Master left?" He'd had to train himself, well enough to become the performer he is today.

Oddly, the man ducks his head, looking out the window. "In our family, traditionally the mother teaches the firstborn daughter. The same is for the father and son. So-." They're interrupted by his wife's strident tone.

"What do you mean there was an incident at school? I thought I had asked for you and Jonathan to supervise her." There's a lengthy pause and Hugo leaves his chair to cross to his wife. Drake twists in his chair, watching the two of them. Christine has her free hand clenched as she scowls. Hugo is frowning, trying to catch what's being said over the phone. "So she caused this girl's hair to fall out? Did teacher notice? Of course. Collapsing desks would do that." She sighs impatiently. "Are you on your way home? Good. Your father and I will have to tweak their memories, the sooner the better. There's someone here, you are in charge Suzanne. Goodbye." Hanging up the phone, she rolls her eyes and walks back into the room.

Drake stands, hands in his pockets. "Look, if you need to deal with this, I can go. As you said, you don't know where he is." Even though the curiosity of the situation is picking at him. Is it their daughter or an acquaintance that's wreaking havoc? Whoever they are, they're crafty enough to pull off stunts that can ruin Christine's calm and collected persona.

Hugo looks like he's ready to agree but she doesn't. Shaking her head, she manages to smile. "No, this shouldn't take too long. I might also be able to remember something for you. Our children should be able to control themselves while we're gone." The smile isn't reaching her eyes.

Children? Christ. He doesn't particularly like kids, especially little ones, which from the sounds of things, these ones are… Well, at least one has to be young enough to not be able to control their spells. "If you're sure, 'cause I really can-." He's interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and feet entering the house. Again, Christine walks out into the hall, only this time she seems to be a bit closer to stomping.

"Suzanne, Jonathan, put your things away then come back down. Kathryn," her voice chills, and for the first time, Drake recognises a bit of Montgomery in her. "Room."

Surprisingly, the voice that answers isn't the squeaky little kid voice that he expects. "I didn't mean to, all right? I don't know what the hell Kiss-Ass Suzie told you, but I didn't exactly plan it. Leeann Cooper was making fun of Jordan and-." The girl's voice sounds mature enough to be in her mid-teens. Angry too.

"Not now Kathryn. Go to your room and we'll discuss this after we've cleaned up after you. And don't let me ever hear you call Suzanne that again." From his position, Drake can see a figure clad in a bright red sweater and jeans moving up the stairs swiftly. A few seconds later, a door is slammed. He winces sympathetically, not wanting to experience the feeling of ever being on the receiving end of Christine Ashwood's ladylike fury. She's speaking in quieter tones to who must be Suzanne and Jonathan now. "As for you two, we have a guest. Suzanne, you can take him down to the study if you want. We shouldn't be gone for more than forty minutes."

Again, he wants to protest, really preferring now to leave and not get stuck in this family drama, but Christine is stepping back in, coat on. "Mr. Stone, we'll be back soon. Our daughter, Suzanne, shall be taking care of you." At that moment, a girl who looks like a clone of her mother except with longer hair and a younger face, moves into the room. She's dressed in what looks like a customary private or catholic school uniform, hair pulled back with a head band. This is the Barbie family, Drake thinks, wanting to laugh. This one is the schoolgirl edition. The girl, Suzanne, smiles at him as her parents leave. As soon as they do, her face changes.

With a crafty little smirk, she falls into her mother's recently vacated chair, skirt pulling up to mid-thigh. He's fairly sure it's a practiced move too as she swings her legs over the arm of the chair, skirt moving a couple inches higher. "So, welcome to the Ashwoods. And who are you? You don't look like the normal losers that are my parents' friends; that's for sure." This time, he's a little disconcerted to hear a voice that he'd usually expect from a grown woman coming from this innocent-ish looking girl.

"Drake Stone," he answers shortly, trying to stare over her as she crosses her arms behind her head and leans on them. Casting around for a topic, he asks, "So, uh, what happened with Kathryn… your sister, righ'?"

Suzanne giggles, rolling her eyes in a move reminiscent of her mother earlier. "Twin sister. God, wish she wasn't. She's such a total spaz, all the time. She made one of my friends' hair fall out, which is, like, the worst thing she could've done. Lee is so obsessed with her hair." She pauses, contemplating for a minute. "It was funny though. Everyone freaked out, especially when then legs on Ms. Whitcomb's desk fell apart."

"Does she do that a lot?" Now that he knows that the girl isn't a kid, he's wondering why she'd be using magic that way. A good master would have taught her to never use her magic as a prank. Well, unless the girl's a closet Morganian, he adds mentally.

"Only if she's pissed off. Leeann was picking on her friend, Jordan, calling him a freak and that because he's gay. So Kath decided to totally be a psycho." Suzanne has the natural ease of a gossiper, adding the right amount of scorn to the story. "She has the whole 'Oh, I'm such a rebel thing' going on. She's just angry 'cause Jon and I are sorcerers and she isn't. Not anymore."

"Why?" As he asks, he remembers Hugo saying how the firstborn daughter was taught by the mother. Suzanne might have been that first born. If they didn't get the other one a Master… he actually feels sorry for her.

She looks irritated. "Why are you so interested in her? All she does is get in trouble. And not even good trouble, like getting drunk at a party or making out with someone's boyfriend." Uncoiling from the chair, she sways over. Pouting a little, she says quietly, "Mom said I should show you the study. It's like our training room and in the basement… Jon should be up in his room…"

Despite being older and far from clueless of what she's insinuating, Drake's a little shocked. This is something he's seen and used in the women that hang around his performances. Not quite comfortable having it come from a kid. "Er…" Trying to find an excuse, he settles on a time honoured one. "Where's the bathroom?"

Sighing, she gives him directions to the upstairs. He thanks her and hustles himself out of the room. Climbing the stairs, he can hear the sound of music beating from the walls. Kathryn, he guesses, interested. As he walks down towards the door where the sounds are coming from, he keeps an eye out from Suzanne and the other Ashwood kid, Jonathan. The door is shut tight and he knocks. There's no answer. Maybe she didn't hear me, he wonders as he starts to knock again.

"Get lost, Suzie. You come near me and I'm going to tell them what you were really doing last night." Her voice is muffled and the music switches off abruptly.

"Last time I checked, my name's Drake, not 'Kiss-Ass' Suzie." Trying to make it into a joke, he continues, "I'm hidin' from your sister by the way. Have mercy."

There's a pause, then the door opens, revealing the figure he'd seen earlier. She stares resentfully at him, mouth set. "Figures. She'll come on to anything with a Y chromosome. Who are you? And you do know you've probably upset my mother's little world with what you're wearing?"

"Drake Stone," he grins at her, appreciating her snarkiness. "Seems like you've done the same, luv. Nice work. Anyways, can I hide here?"

Kathryn looks him up and down, then relents. "Sure. I'm not leaving you to Suzanne's claws." She turns and walks over to her bed, sitting down on it cross legged, propping her head in her hands. He follows, looking around as he does. The room is bright, with electric green and yellow walls. There are book shelves filled with books and random things. Clothes on the floor, including the red hoodie she'd been wearing earlier. Watching him, she says, "So, what do you want? You could've hid somewhere else."

"I don't know. Your parents left and I figured I'd try my chances with you." Trying to appear charming, he looks around for a place to sit, but most available places have books and clothes piled on them. A far cry from the rest of the house's tidiness.

"Why were you talking to them? No offense, but you don't look like someone they'd let cross their doorstep. I mean, they barely accept what I wear." She holds out her arms, showing off a graphic t-shirt with a drawing of someone disguised as a robot and the words, 'When the robots come, I'll be ready.' Cute, he thinks, comparing it to what Suzanne had been wearing. "You must have persuaded them somehow."

Finally giving up on finding a clear spot, he shifts some papers off a chair and straddles it as he answers, "I had some questions about a man who trained with your mum. The Merlinians in New York did the persuading as I'm sure I don't have the patience."

"Who does?" she mutters, kicking her legs over the side of the bed, restless. "Still, why would you want to talk to me? As Suzanne so lovingly told my parents, I'm in some deep trouble here."

"You're an interesting person Kathryn." He inspects the girl across from him. She looks like a polar opposite of her sister. Shorter by a few inches, skinny where Suzanne is slender, and her face a softer oval shape. The most noted differences are the wavy dark hair, cut messily around her face, and the pale green eyes. Her sister's and mother's are blue. For a moment, he wonders if maybe she was adopted but then remembers that Hugo's colouring is the same. "What did you do to drive your mum batty?"

She blushes, red creeping up over her cheekbones vividly. "I didn't mean to. It was an accident." Drake raises an eyebrow, indicating that she should continue. "This girl, Leeann, was being a bitch to my friend 'cause he's gay and doesn't hide it. So she's being mean and asking him shouldn't his hair be nicer 'cause of what he is… only she never said 'what' he was, just kept insinuating it." Guiltily, she glances at Drake, getting quieter as she says, "I guess, my mind connected dots and… well, next thing I know, her hair's gone. And I panicked 'cause I'm not supposed to be able to do that and- and then my teacher's desk collapsed and my head was hurting so bad that I couldn't even see. Then Suzanne started telling me that I was going to be so screwed when I got home because not only shouldn't I be able to do that, but Mom and Dad won't let me." The words pour out in a rush, as if she wants to get her side of the story out as quickly as possible.

Running through the story, he frowns and asks, "Why shouldn't you be able to do that? Sure, it's wrong but it's baby stuff, nasty little tricks. And you should be able to control yourself by now."

"Do you see a caster anywhere?" Kathryn says bitterly, holding her hands out. There's no ring on her fingers, nothing to indicate she's a sorceress. "They took mine away when my Master died. They won't train me 'cause of 'family tradition' and Suzanne's older by seven minutes."

Drake feels his jaw drop and eyebrows shoot up. He probably looks like a cartoon character but he's shocked. He'd wondered if the Ashwoods had found a new Master for Kathryn. But for them to take away her caster away, leaving her knowing that she had the ability to do sorcery but unable to do it… That's cruel. Didn't even give the poor thing a chance to train herself. She might've have been able to do it, if she can cast without a caster. "That's tough," he says lamely.

Laughing hollowly, she hugs her knees, resting her forehead against them. "Tough doesn't even cover it. I trained for not even a year and I was better than Jon and Suzie, and they'd been training for ages before me. Now, Jon is a sorcerer of the hundred and sixty-fourth degree and Suzanne, who's dumb as hell, is at a hundred and fifty-two." She sobs, even though she's trying to muffle it. "And she makes sure to tell me that all the time, rubbing it in my face. And Mom lets her, and Dad is pretty much oblivious to it. They never even looked for another Master for me. They just gave up."

Even though he doesn't even know this girl, nowhere near 'barely' even, Drake gets up to sit next to her. Putting an arm around her shoulders, he says, "You must be pretty good to be able to make things happen, even without your caster."

Kathryn remains stiff, not leaning against him more than possible, and says, voice thick, "It doesn't matter. Without a caster or anyone to train me, I'm worse than useless. All I can do is make things go wrong." She sounds defeated, still not lifting her head.

"You can keep hopin'. You never know, darlin'. Someone could come along." Almost immediately, he finds out that that was the wrong thing to say.

Crying in earnest now, she manages to say, "I'm sixteen. No one wants a minimally trained sixteen year old. They want to start with someone new." Almost laughing through her tears, she adds, "And I've been hoping for four years. No one's come to ask. I doubt the other sorcerers even know that I exist."

Feeling almost protective of this new acquaintance, Drake thinks over the situation. Useless parents, stupid siblings. And no Master, no caster. Basically 'no hope'. One part of him wants to pat her on the head and tell her that things will get better, pulling himself out of this mess. But another part, louder in his head, is saying, look, you've been where this girl's been. You of all people, you thick git, should understand and want to help. Sure, it's easier to ignore all this but that makes you no better than Alan Montgomery. Want that on your conscience? He doesn't. Well, then, help her out. She's talented as hell, from the sound of things. It wouldn't take too long to train her up to work on her own, to give her a chance.

Before he can think anymore, he reaches to tilt the girl's head up. She tries to resist, hunching her shoulders, but he's persistent. "Come on, luv. Look at me. Want to talk to you for a sec." Raising her head a few inches, she stares at him defiantly, showing a tear streaked face and red eyes. "You listenin' to me? Pay attention now: would you accept bein' my Apprentice?"

Shock takes over her. "Really? You're not joking? Really?" The eagerness doesn't last long though: turning away, she mutters accusingly, "You're just feeling sorry for me. In a few days or so, you'll regret this then where am I gonna be left? Same as before."

"I won't," he says truthfully. Kathryn gives him a disbelieving look, a definite 'Yeah, right'. Sighing, he explains, "I've ha- seen it happen to someone I know, and I know what they went through. I wouldn't do that to you. I promise."

She eyes him for a long moment before answering, slowly, "I guess it might work. Maybe."

Drake tightens his hold on her, teasing, "C'mon now. I need a better answer than that. Yes or no, Kathryn Ashwood."

A real smile finally appears on her face. "Well, since you're pleading… Yes, I accept your offer of becoming your Apprentice, Drake Stone."

A week later, Kathryn flexes her fingers, admiring the ring on the middle finger of her left hand. It feels like it's always been there, instead of only an hour.

The design is gorgeous, pewter in the shape of open star jasmine flowers forming the band. In the center is a vaguely oval shaped amethyst. When Drake had taken her to get the ring designed and sized, the maker had explained that faceting the stone could weaken it so they'd decided to leave the amethyst as a polished, raw stone. The weight of the caster feels comforting, a presence that she'd missed horribly when her last one had been taken from her.

Now, she feels grounded. She's been brought back to a world that she'd assumed that she'd only watch for the rest of her life. It's still a surprising event, one that she continues to expect to disappear every morning when she wakes up. So far, it hasn't. As she considers this, an impatient voice calls from the street corner. "Are you goin' to stand there all day? Or are you comin'?"

Looking up from her hand, Kathryn shoves both into the pockets of her sweater. "What do you think?"