Disclaimer: Sky High is owned by Disney. I do not own Sky High, but the original characters in this story are from my imagination. Some characters in the movie do not have names, so I went ahead and gave them an identity for the sole purpose of the story. This is a nonprofit work of fiction that I write for entertainment.
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To Touch Fire
Ch.3: A Strange Reunion
The pyrokinetic was given his privacy to freshen up without being disturbed. He stood silently in the pale, yellow bathroom for a moment, listening to the banging of metal pans being moved around and guessed that Joi was determined when it came to being a wonderful hostess. She was going out of her way to making him feel as comfortable as possible, even making him food, and this treatment bothered Warren to no end. He wasn't used to this. He wasn't used to being treated with kindness and his mind warred with itself over how to approach the unexpected situation he had fallen under.
He didn't want to owe anyone anything. He had survived thus far without anyone's help. He didn't need someone to look after him now as if he were a child! As if he had not had enough experience to know how to care for himself, staying alive wasn't new to him after all.
Grunting with mild frustration, Warren walked over to the small closet door in the bathroom and took a large, white towel from the neat pile inside. Hanging it on the towel rack by the shower, he pushed the plastic shower curtain aside to toy with the temperature knobs. Nodding to himself when the water that sprayed down from the head was warm enough, he peeled away each ruined article of clothing he wore and tossed it on the cold, tiled floor.
Looking down at his toes, he wiggled them for a moment before looking into the large mirror before him. Standing there in an unfamiliar setting, naked to his own scrutiny, Warren traced the numerous scars that trailed his body with his eyes. His skin, marred because of his lack of control over his own element, looked abused and raw under the harsh florescent lighting.
And not only was his skin damaged, he looked like a street urchin with his poor hygiene. His hair touched a little past his shoulders now and the sheer mess of it would send any barber or beautician to prematurely grey. His unkempt beard added to the whole vagabond effect and he couldn't even remember when the last time his teeth experienced a proper cleaning was.
As if reading his mind, Joi's pleasant-sounding voice tore his eyes away from further criticism, "I forgot to give you a toothbrush! Do you want me to get it for you?" She sounded close to the door and Warren instantly went to go bolt it, but was startled to find no lock on the knob.
"Warren, you alright in there?"
Just peachy. "I'll get it myself," he replied, his hand holding the door down just in case she decided to open it to double check on him.
She didn't though and responded him from behind the door, "I have some free sample toothbrushes from my dentist under the sink. Go ahead and grab one and if you need something else, feel free to shout." He heard her soft footsteps as she walked away from the door and he relaxed his tense stance. Why would he assume she would open the door anyway? She's shown enough courtesy to not hound him with questions and demand answers from him, but he wasn't fooled by her nonchalance. She wanted to ask questions, she wanted to hear his answers, but she hasn't and instead is skirting around them, displeasing her own curious mind to ensure his comfort first and foremost.
Deciding to continue as things were going, Warren stalked over to the tub and stepped into the steamy water. Closing his eyes, he allowed the blissful water to wash over him for a while before lathering his hands in scented soap and washing up. He washed out his hair thoroughly, running his fingers through the tangles.
For someone who had grieved the loss of two parents in their short life, Joi was surprisingly void of bitterness and resentment. The shyness of her manners, her mild embarrassment at times, and yet with such ease, she could be jovial and easy-going. Her boldness and languid smiles that overpowered her personality were so open, welcoming that it stirred something within him he could not explain.
He wondered how she did it. How she could repress the darkness of her past and live solely for the present. How she could find joy in almost anything and be so damn optimistic all the time, even as a kid. He knew that she had always adored her small family consisting of her aunt, her reclusive uncle he had yet to meet, and the local staff at the Paper Lantern.
She was too innocent for her own damn good.
When he was fully satisfied with his cleanliness, he dried off and stepped out of the tub, allowing his feet to dry on the rug placed on the floor. Wiping the fogged mirror with a hand, Warren took the pink razor in hand and cringed.
Hell if he wanted to use that razor, but another glance at the mirror strengthened his resolve. He lathered his face with soap and was going to dismiss Joi's suggestion of using conditioner as well, but a cry from outside the door stopped his hand from bringing the razor to his throat, "Don't forget to use soap and conditioner, Warren. Your face is going to itch and burn for a week if you don't!"
How the heck did she do that? Warren was beginning to suspect spy cameras or ESP having something to do with it, but he deducted that she merely had been reminding him the conditioner after hearing the shower turning off. Sighing, the pyrokinetic reached into the shower and took a small amount of conditioner into his hands and massaged it into his face, mixing it with the soap, before lifting the razor once again and commencing to groom.
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Joi hummed an old lullaby as she cooked in her small, but orderly kitchen. She liked the fact that her kitchen had an open counter instead of being closed off from the living/dining room. She enjoyed cooking for herself and for her family, it had become a sort of hobby for her, but when Xing-Xing thought it would be interesting to have her work as a cook at the Paper Lantern, she had gracefully refused. She was a decent cook, not a taught chef.
Besides, having graduated only a month ago from Maxville's community college with a Bachelor in her studied major, business, she had wanted to quickly prove her worth in her area of expertise. So far the restaurant hadn't crashed and burned to the ground, a good start. However, Joi wanted to prove herself. She wanted to make her aunt's small Chinese restaurant something truly spectacular.
A place that all of Maxville would recognize as an accomplished and entertaining environment for kicking back and relaxing, while getting a taste of great Oriental food at the same time.
At the moment, it was her dream. She loved the Paper Lantern. She loved the atmosphere and the workers and she wanted her family's legacy to continue to be theirs, to remain a part of them, and to continue growing as they did.
Joi had finished preparing their meal and was putting away the washed dishes when she heard the bathroom door open. Finishing up and taking off her apron and hanging it on the hook by the fridge, she turned her head towards Warren's direction when he took a seat on the counter. He was rubbing a towel ferociously through his hair, making sure to dry it as best he could.
Opening one of her kitchen cabinets, Joi got out two tall glasses for their drinks. "Did the clothes fit alright?" she asked, opening the freezer and dropping a handful of ice in each glass.
"The sweats are a little short, but they fit fine. The shirt too," he grunted after having finished towel drying his hair. He looked down at the plate in front of him and his mouth watered. Joi had cooked a quick, simple meal of vegetables and shrimp with plain, white rice. A small bowel of warm soup was beside the larger meal.
Warren couldn't remember the last time he had such a large amount of food before him. The tantalizing scent was tightening his stomach painfully, reminding him again how long ago he had gone without a proper meal.
"It was the only clothes my aunt could find that had any chance of fitting you. My uncle has been losing some more weight recently and he is shorter than you," she replied gently. "I am glad that they fit though, the clothes you came in are going to have to go. I'm afraid nothing is going to save them from the dumpster. Now, what would you like to drink?"
"Water."
Opening the fridge, Joi poured water in each glass from a pitcher and walked over to the counter, reaching out and placing the water beside Warren. She did not raise her eyes to assess him and was withdrawing her hand back when a much larger one grasped her wrist, her palm touching the warm flesh of his own arm. Looking down at the tan digits holding her hand in place, though not painfully, Joi slowly brought her gaze up and stared straight into guarded, dark eyes.
"Joi, we need to talk."
Joi took in a sharp breath as warm heat attacked her senses and coursed through her very blood. It was milder than the fire that had enraptured her last night, forcing all her nerves to feel it, making her shiver from its intensity. This fire was slow, caressing as it spread down her body, reaching her toes, it brought comfort and nurture. Not at all like the smoldering heat from last night, but it was similar.
Joi studied the man before her unabashed. The towel he had been using to dry his hair was draped across his broad shoulders and he was leaning forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the counter. The white shirt her aunt had brought him fit his torso comfortably, exposing his long arms. His dark hair curled as it touched his shoulders and Joi found herself craving to reach out and run her fingers through those wet strands. Joi noticed that he had shaved his jaw line and now smooth, brown skin ran the expanse of it. His full lips were frowning slightly and those guarded eyes were watching her, unnerving her previous bravado.
Lowering her eyes, Joi looked at his hand still holding hers and when her eyes started traveling up his arm, she noticed the healed scars that marred his smooth flesh. Without thinking, she lifted her other hand and ran her fingers down the span of his arm, feeling as she did the different textures of both his jagged and unharmed skin.
The warmth was still inside her and it was not frightening, it could never be that to her. It was a dominant, yet serene essence that at the moment was relaxing her body in such a way, lulling her to accept it and she did, though she did not understand why.
When she met his eyes again, she was stunned at their smoldering heat. It was too much for her. She wanted, no, needed him in such a way she never thought possible. Never had she felt this way about any other person. Just the thought alone of not being near him caused her to ache and seek his warmth. What was wrong with her? Warren Peace had never had such an effect on her before, so why now? Why was she so drawn to him?
Joi retreated inside herself to think. The man before her was a cherished friend and he needed her help. She knew he had suffered throughout the ten years he had been gone, though he had yet to open up to her about it and she doubted he would. That's why she had taken the initiative to contact someone who would get through to him. Joi traced the scars on his arm quietly. Oh, Warren, what happened to you?
Warren had watched her silently as her almond-shaped eyes studied him, and when she had touched him, he seriously thought he was going to lose control of the ever spreading fire within him. Her tantalizing fingers glided along his feverish skin, following the contours in fascination and sadness with those bewitching pale fingers. The fire was raging inside him, wanting to be free, wanting to lick at his arms again, but his control was strong enough and he managed to rip his arm away from her touch, letting go of her thin wrist.
Clearing his throat, the pyrokinetic voided his mind and his senses, feeling the young woman having ignited something unexplainable in him and he feared it was dangerous.
"I don't want your pity, Joi."
The usual fun-loving look in her gaze hardened. "I would never pity you, Warren. You are my friend." Her eyes turned fearful and her lower lip quivered, "Unless…you don't consider yourself my friend."
The terrified expression that had captured her face had twisted its softness into a grimace. Warren found himself stumbling to reassure her, "N-No, I didn't mean, I-I mean…" he cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his wet hair in aggravation. Great, just great, Warren, go ahead and hurt the girl's feelings, he reprimanded himself harshly.
At hearing bell-like laughter assaulting his hearing, Warren looked up sharply and narrowed his eyes when he saw Joi laughing into her hand. He growled disapprovingly at the young woman, her mindless laughter finally coming to an end. A radiant smile warmed her appearance, but he remained irritable.
Joi just couldn't help but tease the easily provoked and foul- tempered man, "You, Warren Peace, should know better than to fall for my poor acting. Eat." She motioned with her hands to his food and reached for her own bowl of soup, putting the lip of the bowl to her mouth to take a deep drink. Grabbing two chopsticks, Joi then proceeded to make short work of the noodles and vegetables left. She lazed casually against the counter, eating the rest of her meal delicately.
After a minute or two, Joi noticed from the corner of her eyes Warren quietly eating his own food, albeit with a fierce hunger driving him. They each remained silent, enjoying their light meal peacefully.
Joi was just finishing up when Warren broke the silence, "I need to leave."
Raising a brow, the young woman turned to face him, giving him her undivided attention. She sighed heavily, "I can't let you do that."
Now it was his turn to raise a brow. "And why the hell not?"
Joi smiled at his gruff response. "It's a surprise."
Snarling from within his throat, Warren quickly stood from the stool he had been sitting on and walked into the kitchen, "Damn it, Joi, this isn't a game! I can't stay here," he spoke harshly, trying to intimidate her with his anger.
Joi barely flinched and shook her head, "You can stay. No one is forcing you to leave, Warren. You are welcome here."
Her dark hair shone like a crow's feather under the artificial lighting, her creamy skin contrasting severely against it. Warren couldn't help but once again notice her subtle beauty. Her smile, exposing her small, white teeth, was expressive and forthcoming. He wondered if she could even fake a smile. He doubted it. She was too light-hearted to lie about anything.
Warren knew that talking to her was pointless. She would insist on him staying, her nature calling out for her to help him. The slip of a woman could be stubborn when the occasion deemed it necessary, and he could see it now. She was determined for him to remain where he was.
But he was determined too.
It's too late. I'm too dangerous to help now. The pyrokinetic turned away abruptly from the young woman and headed to the only exit in the room, the front door.
"Warren, wait-"
He heard her angelic voice calling out to him, but he ignored it and briskly walked the short length to the front door. Unlocking it and pulling it open, Warren was about to storm outside and make a run for it, but a sudden force collided against his body and would have knocked him off his feet if it wasn't for his quick reflexes.
In a second, he felt himself being locked in a vice-like embrace and the scent of earth and mild apple cinnamon consumed his scenes. The arms wrapped around him gave his middle another tight squeeze before becoming slack and withdrawing completely.
"Honey, give the man some space!" A firm hand landed on Warren's shoulder heavily, causing his very bones to shake from the unexpected force.
"I haven't seen him in over ten years, Will! I think my reaction was appropriate for the situation, besides you're the one who rammed into him earlier!"
"Now, sweetheart, calm down," the weight holding down on Warren's shoulder shifted and fell away, "you know what Ethan said about becoming stressed, it might harm the baby."
Irate, and a little confused, Warren focused on the man and woman that were the cause of his failed escape.
The man was lightly tanned by the sun, his tawny hair cut short and messy in a modern hairstyle. He stood almost eye level to Warren, missing his height by a few inches. Square, metallic glasses framed his face and friendly brown eyes greeted him from behind them. He was broad-shouldered and muscular, though still lanky in frame, though his hand might have more to say over his strength. He wore comfortable jeans and a button-down blue shirt, the cuffs rolled up to his elbows. Warren watched as the man snaked his arm around the woman's waist, bending down to kiss her temple lovingly.
The woman reached just about her partner's shoulder in height, her vibrant red hair a chin-length bob. Her rosy lips curved up in a smile, shining sapphire eyes filled with love and kindness would look at him, soften to look up at the man beside her, and again focus on him. She wore a long, green skirt beaded and decorated in a Bohemian style and an airy, white top. The woman was sprite-like with her large eyes and oval-shaped face and her hand was absentmindedly rubbing at her swelling womb. She was obviously pregnant, possibly only a few weeks away from delivering.
The couple turned to regard the young Asian woman who had been silently standing there the whole time, watching the scene with a pleasant smile. The red-haired woman left her partner's side to make her way over to her. The two women embraced each other instantly in friendship.
"Thank you for coming, Layla, Will," Joi said, as they drew apart from their embrace. "Warren, you remember Will Stronghold and Layla Williams, though now-a-days she's going by Layla Stronghold."
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Author's note: And in come the Strongholds! What will happen next? Keep reading and find out!
