Hey, sorry for the belated update (yes I did just say belated), but I haven't been able to touch my computer this entire week, and therefore I've been writing this from my kindle and old computer that doesn't work very well. And on top of that, I don't have a beta, so any mistakes are mine. Anyways, you get to take another look in Cleo's memories, except for this one reveals more than I'd hoped it would. But oh well, hope you enjoy. Buon divertimento!

I only own Cleo.

And this is not terribly in character, so sorry if I messed it up. I'll try harder next time ;)

~Bandit(:

Sorcerer's Pride

Chapter 2

"But I thought everyone Balthazar surrounded himself with were bad liars," was all Dave managed to splutter out as he stared incredulously at Cleo. The older of the two couldn't help but burst out in laughter at his statement. Her hazel eyes twinkled, and she gave him a huge grin.

"I am a bad liar, Dave," she breathed out another small chuckle, "Just compared to you, I'm a master at it."

He didn't seem the least bit offended, and she knew why; he took pride in his inability to fib. Damn, that kid look up to Balthazar. Almost as much as she did, "Why didn't he tell me he had another apprentice?"

She shrugged, and kneaded her hands together, "I guess he didn't want to bring up painful memories. It's not so much me he'd be worried about, but the memories that kind of just tagged along with me. I'll a living, breathing nostalgic, horrible reminiscence bringer."

"I'm sure you're not that bad," suddenly, Dave froze, and his face turned slightly disturbed, "But wait, if you are his apprentice, then how am I the-?"

"Don't think too much on it, Dave," she stepped forward and placed a gently hand on his shoulder, "There will come a time for the answers. Unfortunately, as you should expect, now is not that time."

"Will there ever be a time?" Smart kid. "I mean, will you ever tell me? Will you ever remember to tell me some day?"

"You couldn't possibly expect me to remember on my own, could you? You'd of course have to remind me. But I will, Dave, I will. I give you my word," she cracked a smile at him, "I guess we'd better be getting back to Becky and Balthazar," she pulled a face, "Tongue twister."

Dave laughed out loud, "We've known you for fifteen minutes, aside from Balthazar, of course, and yet you act as though you know everyone so well."

Cleo detached herself from the train wall, "I don't think Becky likes Mister Blake too much," she winked at the kid to let him know she was teasing, "Though I'm sure Balthazar's perfectly fine with keeping his distance. I just wanna make sure they haven't sliced each other's throats yet."

Dave choked out a small laugh, his own eyes shining, and the nervous expression he'd been wearing fading away as he joined her laughter. Cleo felt a sense of relief wash over her, and she met his eyes, and nodded. Dave reached out his hand to her, a knowing expression charming his features, "Nice to meet you, Cleo." Without a word, the girl took his hand, and grinned, not even bothering to question his antics, because she already knew his reason; he'd accepted her.

Not even a whole half-hour, and she'd already charmed him. She knew she had a strange affect on people, that's why it was such a reprieve to be around Balthazar; he was one of the only human beings she knew who was not effected by her wittiness and sense of humor. Whatever respect he held for her, she'd earned on her own. It was good to have a solace sometimes. Even for her.

"Alrighty, Dave, you lead the way, I'm not very good with remembering directions," she motioned for him to depart first, and blinked innocently up at him, "And unfortunately, I cannot remember the way back to our car."

Dave gave what seemed like an annoyed sigh, though she could see through his façade, and she knew he was playing, "I guess we're going to have to."

"Sometime," she pulled a funny face, and followed him down the long train. When they finally did arrive to the car, without getting lost, they were met with a semi-pleasing scene. Neither Becky, nor Balthazar was dead. Meaning they hadn't tried to kill each other. It was always a real good crowd-pleaser. But, they were still shooting death-glares at each other, but at least it wasn't as bad as they'd expected.

"Balthazar," she coughed awkwardly, when the sorcerer showed no signs of softening his gaze. She bit her lip as he whipped his head to look at her, "I told him."

Balthazar was on his feet and facing her in a second, "You what?" his blue eyes widened, and he stared at her grudgingly. "I thought you had that type of thing called, keeping secrets?"

"It's better this way. I mean, telling him know is better than lying to him. He was going to figure it out sometime, and you knew that," Cleo said simply, holding back snickers.

"Guys?" David piped up, one of his eyebrows cocked, "You know I'm hear right?"

Cleo ignored him, "And besides, he wanted to know, and I couldn't decline, because, honestly, why would I waste my time lying, when I could just tell the truth? It's not going to hurt him, and it's certainly not going to kill you," she rushed out, her face lighting up.

"How do you know it's not going to kill me?" Balthazar started, his eyes shining, "I mean, you're so intent on protecting me, and if you're so worried about me dying, wouldn't you care to know if this were going to kill me?"

"Because I know you, Balthazar Blake," she chuckled, "And you're not the type to just drop dead because I told someone I used to be your apprentice. You're one of the strongest people I've met, so I'm sure we'll both be fine. And besides, do you always have to be a stubborn bastard?"

A smile graced his lips, "Yes, I do. It's kind of a Blake thing. Runs in the family."

Cleo buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with laughter, "Of course it is. Same as the protectiveness is kind of an Elwer thing. Too bad I won't be able to pass it along. It's quite a good trait."

"Oh come on, Cleo, the train is going to be arriving soon, and I'd like to at least have one moment when we're not arguing. Could you do me that little favor?" Balthazar's voice was literally dripping with exasperation.

"Stop provoking me, and maybe I will, Master," she muttered as he turned away back to his seat.

He suddenly spun around, an angry look in his eyes, "Do I look like your master anymore?" he demanded.

Cleo was taken aback at Balthazar's abrupt fury, and by Dave's intake of breath she could tell she wasn't the only one, "Well, if you cut the hair a little, maybe. You also look a little more… worn; I guess you could call it that," in all truth, no matter how cheeky she appeared, she was terrified. The last time she'd seen Balthazar this angry hadn't ended very well.

Balthazar simply rolled her eyes at her, and sat back down, the anger seeming to subsiding, but Cleo could tell something was on his mind. She swallowed, and looked at Dave guiltily, her mind churning. She then motioned towards the sorcerer, indicating that Dave should sit by him instead of her, since the rest of the conversation wasn't going to finish sound, and they were sure to talk about it if she were to join Balthazar. She instead plopped down by Becky, smiling peacefully at her, not allowing Dave the choice.

"Master?" Becky muttered towards the redhead, her eyebrows furrowed.

"A long time ago," Cleo grinned, "And probably never again, since I'm very nearly fully trained."

"Really?" Cleo could tell the whole magic thing sparked her interest, "I mean, how long ago?"

"Well, I first became his apprentice when I was fourteen, but I met him when I was eleven. And then he taught me for four years… But it's all very complicated, so I'd say ten years. At least," Cleo sighed, full of memories, "But I'm sure you don't want to listen to the whole thing. It's quite boring, isn't it?"

"Actually, I find it really cool," Becky's eyes shone, and she leaned back in her seat, motioning for Cleo to proceed. "I mean, not only the whole magic thing, but the entire history, and just everything."

Cleo arched her eyebrows, "Are you saying I'm interesting?" She couldn't hide the disbelief in her voice.

"Well, I guess so, yes," Becky met her eyes.

Cleo chuckled, "Now that's new. I've never been really, interesting, but I guess I could tell you if I wanted to," this statement earned a laugh from Becky. Cleo smiled.

~X-X-X~

Sirens wailed along the long dark streets, and rained shot down to the ground like bombs. The alleys between the dismal, crumbling buildings were flooded with people. There were many civilians dressed in dark colors, with horrible looks upon their faces, but only one stood out in the large. The girl had bright, red hair, which stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the other brunettes. Though she was young, smaller than most the criminals, a certain wisdom flickered in her brown, merciless eyes. She strode around, an arrogant way to her gait, yet her hairstyle, which came over her face, almost completely covering it, suggested she was scared, and almost timid.

As the girl continued her trek, shoving past people, she couldn't help but feel roughly exposed. Without the ring, her sole source of power, she had no way of protecting herself, nor any way to attack. She was left alone, neglected, deserted, with no one by her side. But it wouldn't have been the first time. The eleven-year-old Cleo tensed up as people called her foul names, and spat at her feet, but she'd grown far too used to the beggars and bandits, and instead just ignored them, keeping her eyes on the store she really wanted to pay attention to.

Even as thunder started to roll, and crash like an explosion igniting around her, Cleo didn't flinch. Loud sounds weren't a novel concept for her. She continued, her hands jammed into her jean pockets, her mind roaming as she sniffled, and ducked her head as people glowered. Reminding herself that she was there on the awful street for a reason, she turned down yet another horrible alleyway.

And then, someone gently shoved past her. She turned to scowl at the stranger, as she always did, but she was caught frozen in her spot. She furrowed her eyebrows. The man was walking away, but he had a magical air to him. And, she was glad to discover, she wasn't the only odd one her. She blinked a couple of times. The man was wearing some sort of odd trench coat, and had long, scraggly hair, but his back was to her. He was walking away, and with a slight twinge, Cleo realized she didn't want him to go. But, she noticed out of the corner of her eye, something green shining, despite the gloominess. She knelt to examine it closer, and realized it was a ring. He must've dropped it.

The man was a sorcerer.

It was beautiful, made out of what looked to be silver, shaped in the form of a dragon. A single, emerald-green jewel was placed in the center of the dragon's scaly back. Cleo fingered it, deciding whether to let her thieving instincts kick in, or let the other, unknown side of her take over. She stood, not daring to pick it up, and called, "Excuse me, sir, you've dropped something!"

The sorcerer turned at once, his blue eyes shining with what seemed to be deep emotion. A sting of recognition burst inside her, but she could've sworn she'd never seen him before. He started making his way towards her, and convinced that he was coming, Cleo knelt down to pick it up for him. But as soon as she cupped it into her hands, it came alive before her eyes, and wrapped itself around her finger. She gaped, and looked up at the man who was standing above her.

"U-u-u-h," she spluttered out. She'd never seen magic like this before, "I think this yours, mister."

Her breath was taken away as she studied the foreigner. Her assurances were taken away. She had seen him before. But where? She lifted her hand up towards him, and noticed him flinch, and her eyebrows furrowed. His face was pale, pale even for the cool weather, and just below his neck, where his collar dipped off, were horrible-looking scars. Cleo winced as realization struck her, and her hand started shaking hard. She adverted her eyes, blinking back tears.

"Keep it," his voice was like silk, and as she glanced up again, he was off, racing away, pushing past people. She looked back down at the ring, and then once again up at the man to gape at him, but he had already disappeared.

~X-X-X~

"You mean, he has scars?" Becky shot a fleeting glance at the old sorcerer, who was absorbed in his conversation with Dave, "And—and he just gave you the ring? Just like that?"

Cleo looked down, "Yeah," she chuckled, "Just like that."

"How many scars did he have? I mean, do you even know what they're from?" Cleo could tell Becky now held a different respect for Balthazar.

Cleo closed her hands into fists, and pressed them against her mouth, "I don't know. But—they—they must've hurt. A lot."

"This is bothering you, isn't it?" Becky asked apologetically, her eyes dimming.

"A little bit, yeah," Cleo bit her lip, "Sorry."

"It's fine," Becky chuckled, "I'm just curious you know?"

Cleo laughed as well, as Becky turned away to look out her dark window. As soon as she wasn't looking, Cleo unclenched her hands, and glanced at the deep gashes she'd caused when her nails had broken her skin in her nervousness. She glanced at the blood trickling slowly down her wrists, and pressed a hand to the bridge of her nose, and willed herself to not cry. She couldn't. It was a pride thing. But she couldn't help her shoulders shaking, her eyes watering, nor her lips trembling. Why did memories always do this to her?

"Alright," Balthazar pushed her down the stairs, making her race down them, towards the center of the lab floor, "Talk."

Cleo composed herself, catching her balance, and putting her hands on her hips. She spun on her heel, so she was facing the elder sorcerer, and gave him a tight look, "Alright, what do you want to know?"

"Why did he let you go?" he turned, and started to pace. Cleo stood in the same position, her eyes burning into the back of Balthazar's head.

"He didn't," she muttered, hoping he wouldn't hear. But he did.

"Care to elaborate?" he turned once again, his eyebrows arched, his lips drawn into a straight line.

"I attacked him," Cleo swallowed with difficulty, "I mean, I escaped his… grasp."

His face pulled into one of deep thought as he tried to figure out her words, "You mean he gave the ring back? Why would he do that?"

Cleo was slightly hurt that he though the only way she could've escaped was if he returned her precious ring, "No," she hissed, "He didn't give it back."

Balthazar was taken aback, "You mean…?"

"Yes," she snapped, and turned away, biting her bottom lip, "I did ringless magic. What's the big deal?"

"Without a ring, a sorcerer is powerless. You know that," Balthazar furrowed his eyebrows. He was met with silence as Cleo thought. Unbeknownst to both of them, Dave sat hiding in the cool, dark shadows of the lab, taking in every word with certain interest. This Cleo person intrigued him. He didn't know what it was, but he wanted to learn more about her. And even as he crouched in the darkness, he couldn't help but wonder how powerful she really was. And how had she been able to do ringless magic? Dave thought only the Prime Merlinean could do that.

"Well I guess you…" the young girl was about to fire back a rude comeback, but thought better of it. Hadn't she just rediscovered her savior? Why would she want to upset him more than she already had? She spun around, and glanced up at him apologetically, "just taught me well enough."

"I didn't teach you the adapting part, remember?" the sorcerer met her gaze with a small smile.

"I'm pretty sure I remember, Master," she clapped his right shoulder gently, her eyes twinkling as well.

As soon as her hand made contact with his shoulder, he let out a small yelp, his happy expression contorting into pain. Cleo jumped back several feet, her hands covering her mouth, her hazel eyes wide with fright and distress. "Oh my god, Balthazar, oh god, oh god, oh god. I'm so sorry… Did I hurt you bad?"

He himself had placed his own hand on his shoulder, and was holding it, wincing every now and then, "You only just tapped it, and it's not too bad."

Her voice was shaky, and memories ran through her mind. Get those thoughts out, Cleo-Marie, get them out. Now! "B-but still."

He stepped forward and kissed her forehead, holding her face with both of his hands, "You're fine, Cleo. Let's get you home, you look tired. You, of all people, know what tired can do to you."

She smiled weakly, and took a sudden interest in her shoes, "My house? Tovaire let me stay there while I was his… let's say prisoner. And I think it'd be better than Dave's place, since Bennet lives there… Doesn't he Dave?" she called out into the darkness, and smiled when she heard a muffled curse. She exchanged knowing glances with Balthazar, before they both burst out laughing.

A/N: Yes, for any of you wondering... I know Cleo has hazel eyes, and there is a reason I made her eyes brown in the flashback. And I know she does have random mood swings, but she's a twenty-three year old, so give her a break(: I have no idea what I'm going to do for the next chapter, so if you have any ideas, please share ;) And please review! I keeps me motivated, and it makes me happy! :)

Thanks to anyone who read or alerted this story. You guys are awesome(: