Rogue Reverie

o O o

Prologue

I hope that, twenty years from now, all the good I've tried to accomplish won't be for nothing. I hope that all the people I've lost won't be for nothing. I hope that, in twenty years, fifty even, our city will be able to live the way we've lived for decades. Without corruption, without unjustifiable reformations and twisted laws that cost the lives of those who refuse to follow them.

My mother was one of them. The eccentrics, the Brugh called them. She was of their family, of their blood, of their ways. And my father fell in love with her.

My mother and her family were not understood by the government, and I think in the end that's what got the city wrapped up in the political war that took so many lives with its downfall. Because the government feared what they didn't understand. They didn't understand my mother, or her family, and they didn't understand why my father fought so hard to see a good leader restored to the city.

They didn't understand what we stood for. And I still don't think they do.

I won't lie to you, and I hope if someone is reading this, in some country archive, that they will understand why the Brugh went up against the city, and its leaders.

To this day, I don't think I even understand.

I know at the time, I wanted to escape. I even considered running to our forests, leaving my father to go and live with my grandparents. But I couldn't run, because at the time, I had no idea how much the war would change our city.

I had no idea how much it would change me.

o O o

Chapter One

"We should get back to the apartment," Mel sighed, breaking the silence.

Truth to tell, she didn't want to go back there. All Meliara Astiar wanted to do was run. Away from the Brugh, away from her father, and away from her problems. Going back the apartment meant another night of boosting cars, spying on rooftops, and nicking food from the local markets. Not to mention, evading the authorities. Mel didn't want to go back to that.

It was a life she had grown up to inherit. Her father had been their neighborhood's most fervent liberalist, and that in turn got him into trouble. Many of Mel's childhood memories were paved with visits to the County Jail to bail her father out of yet another "tight spot" as her mother had told her. But that was under the old mayor. The new one would not suffer the Brugh, and its cause.

"Should?" she heard Ewan say, drawing her out of her memories. Mel's stomach tickled at the sound of his voice. She let out another sigh and let herself relax against Ewan, his arms around her waist. The two were standing under an overhang, rain falling in thick sheets casting a grey glow on everything around them.

"I'm tired of it," she said, finally speaking what had been bothering her.

"Tired of what?" Ewan asked. Mel turned around to face him.

She hated to see the worry in his eyes; she hated to see him worry at all, especially about her. He had been the one person she could turn to since her father had decided to go against the city years ago. Bran was there for her, but he was older and had to devote all of his time to the Burgh's cause. Oria was her friend as well, but because of her skill of getting into locked places, and boosting cars was a second nature to the girl, most of Oria's time was spent on the streets.

Mel smiled, "Not us," she said, tracing his jaw line. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of having to run from the police, but having to spy on them just to have a chance to prove that we're right about Merindar." Mel's voice sounded drained. "I'm just tired of it," she whispered.

Ewan smiled, one of those smiles that made Mel's stomach flutter still. The two teenagers had grown up together, and only begun dating a year ago.

"That's what I love about you, Mel," he said, not hesitating at the 'L' word. "I've seen how tired you've been, how many times you've wanted to run…but you haven't," Ewan said, pulling her close to him. "You're the strongest person I know," he whispered into her hair.

"I'm not as strong as you think," Mel confided. The times when she'd taken her brother's car and driven to Morrison Forests, running to the trees, and not returning until the next morning, came to the surface of her mind. When she'd lost her mother, Mel had tried to run, but Ewan and her brother had stopped her.

Mel felt Ewan tense for a moment. Pulling back she looked into his face, trying to see what was wrong. His face remained unchangeable. She took the chance, and leaned towards him, her face hovering inches from his.

"Mel?"

She could feel his warm breath on her cold skin. "Yes…?" She began to ask, before Ewan kissed her. Mel slid her arms around Ewan's neck, enjoying the heat she felt running through her body at the touch of his lips. After a few moments, Ewan slowly pulled back, reluctantly Mel could tell.

"Mel, will you…" Ewan trailed off, unable to find the words he'd practiced over and over in his head for the past week. "Will you–"

Before Ewan could finish his sentence, the ring tone of Mel's cell phone interrupted him, breaking the sound of the patter of rain, and their conversation. Reaching into her sweatshirt pocket she answered the call, regretting the abrupt interruption.

"It's me."

"Mel, look…you've got to get back here. Now." Bran's voice sounded deep on the other end. "It's dad, he's hurt…bad," he finished after a long pause.

And Mel her heart sink in her chest. She'd heard that tone from her brother before; she'd heard those words before. She didn't want to hear them now.

"I'll be right there," she said and ended the call.

Mel stared at her cell phone screen, the shock settling into her mind. Ewan had an idea of what happened, but didn't want to ask. He opened his mouth to say something; Mel looked up and spoke before he could.

"We have to go."

Ewan nodded mutely, already seeing the distant expression setting itself in her features. Already one opportunity lost. He only hoped that he'd have another chance to ask her.

o O o

Mel's steps were muffled by the thick soles of her shoes, her breathing in swift spurts, used to this kind of work out, as she jogged up the steps winding upwards in a square pattern, Ewan following closely behind. The elevator was broken, but that only made Mel run faster. She ignored the burning in her legs, not used to such a spurt of exercise, and ignored her racing pulse making her head feel dizzy.

When Mel and Ewan finally reached the tenth floor of the apartment building, Mel pounded on the door demanding entrance. After a moment, the sound of locks being undone could be heard from the other side, and soon the door opened. Mel rushed in, Ewan behind her.

Oria closed the door behind the two of them, her face grim. Mel recognized Jack, Naomi and Hunter—the older leaders of their cause—in the common room. The TV was buzzing in the background. Naomi was pacing nervously. All three of them were drenched with rain, their clothes soaked through. They would have to be dried somehow. Hunter had a gauze bandage on his left arm, blood starting to dot through the white dressing. A fire was already blazing in the main fireplace, heat radiating through the common room.

"Where is he?" Mel demanded. Her voice was hushed with emotion.

Oria nodded to the back of the apartment. Mel turned and headed into the room, her mind forming different scenarios of what happened to her father: it was a shot in the arm, something that could heal with time—if it hadn't hit a major blood vessel—or he sprained his ankle and the circulation would return to normal in a few days, he slipped and hit his head—a simple concussion, nothing more.

Ewan took a seat next to Hunter, running his hands through his hair, letting out a deep sigh.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

Hunter glanced at Naomi and Jack before answering. "We were on the roof. Must have thought us burglars. I could have sworn the Chief was there, I thought I recognized him," Hunter's voice seemed distant. His head dipped in his hands, his fingers rubbing his temples. "He saw the gun first and pushed me out of the way…"

"Damn blues wouldn't even care if they hit a stray child," Jack muttered, his face dark.

Realization dawned on Ewan: Hunter felt responsible for what had happened to Mel's dad. "You would've done the same for any one of us, don't blame yourself," Ewan said. After a thought, he added, "Blaming yourself won't do anyone any good."

Hunter nodded, his gaze still distant. His one defense against despair.

Mel walked across the apartment and into the room that held her father. None of the scenarios matched when she finally entered the room. She saw her brother kneeling by their dad, bandaging his stomach. Mel ran to the bedside and dropped to her knees. She scanned her dad's wounds, assessing the damage. Blood stained his shirt where it had been rolled up, Bran trying to make the blood clot in the wound. Her father's eyes were shut closed in pain, his hands shaking, sweating. She lifted the bandage over her father's stomach needing to know how severe the wound was.

Mel's eyes closed, tears welling deep in her throat.

The wound was fatal.

She looked to her brother; his features were set in a grimace to hide his pain. Bran's hair was drenched from the rain, blood smearing one side of his face.

Thoughts, emotions, reactions—Mel didn't know what to call them all fought for her mind's attention. She couldn't sort anything out as she realized what was going to happen. They couldn't go the hospital—they'd be seized and arrested. Julen was their best chance at saving their father's life, but she hadn't come back yet. Mel couldn't—or wouldn't, she didn't know—come to terms with what was happening.

Her father was going to die.

The worst part? She couldn't do anything to stop. With all the technology their world had to offer, all their medical advances, the Brugh couldn't be apart of any of it. Because they were the thorn in the side of the mayor.

Everyone who had run with her father's gang, as the blues had so graciously named their resistance, knew the risk they took. They were rebels in the eyes of the police; neighborhoods refusing to conform to the city's new laws and restrictions being set down by the mayor. Mel and Bran's father was their leader.

But that didn't make the loss of a member, and friend, any easier. Mel walked out of the room, her expression and emotions confused with how to feel, as her face remained distant. Bran stayed with their father. She couldn't deal with this all at once; it was too much for her. She had barely survived the loss of her mother–and even that wound hadn't healed yet–but even then it had taken both Bran and Ewan days to get her out of her room and back out onto the streets again.

"Are you sure we can't take him to County General? What about going to the cops for help..." Oria asked, her eyes glittering with tears as she sat helplessly on the couch.

Mel shook her head. "All the hospitals in this part of town answer to the police, and you know Merindar has them under his belt. The cops aren't an answer anymore," Mel supplied, her tone isolated.

Hunter was the next to speak. "Mel…he took the bullet for me. If there's…anything…" he couldn't find the words that could repay the debt he now owed her father. Hunter had seen the gun, yet he hadn't moved. He had frozen up, and now the cost was their leader's life.

"There is something," Mel said, walking over to the fireplace, she stared into the licking flames until resolve formed itself in her heart, making everything else in her go cold. Everything, except for the searing revenge slowly bubbling beneath the surface.

"We're going to stop him," she began after a long silence had passed in the common room. "We're going to find the proof we need and take it above his head and watch him squirm." Mel's voice had changed, now very deep.

"Mel…?" Oria wasn't sure she could trust this new Mel, one she didn't even recognize. The look in Mel's eyes startled Oria.

"Galdran Merindar will pay for what he's done," she continued, her eyes reflecting the heat of the flames. "Anyone who's helped him…anyone who's supported him. They'll pay." A single tear rolled down her cheek, sliding onto her lower lip. The salt was a bitter taste, as was the bitter feeling of loss in her heat.

"I'm going to make sure of it," Mel whispered.

o O o

Post-it: So I'm putting off all other fics in progress at the moment (except TTPOT) because my muse keeps attacking me with ideas for this fic. And the fact that my mind has now started to attempt to adapt Crown Duel to make it into a script for a movie isn't helping either. By the way, would any of you guys like to see that if I ever do get it written down? Anyway, working on how to adapt the book for this fic...cough…Ewan. If you'd like a second chap review and let me know, dropping off a few ideas would be (insert another word for appreciated since it is horrendously over used).

'Kay, now…review!

Cassie