Hey everybody: i know, its been forever and im sorry. i've recently met more challenges in my body but i will be trying to get back in the swing of things during this recovery period. I'll try to have an update to one of my other Batman Beyond fics by the beginning of next week. Thank you for your patience and diligence! i really appreciate it! Ok, enough talking! it may seem a little off so bear with me, it's been a long time since i've wrote much less brainstormed for these stories. (please forgive any typos or whatever. i tried to edit and such and there may be some things i missed.)

THE TUTOR

Battle Bruised

Nelson looked back and forth from one sister to the other as they stared one another down angrily – the sudden aroused tension in the air had grown incredibly thick to the point that the discomfort was physically evident. He didn't like this. Max's sister? Nelson thought she lived out of state, so what was she doing here? The most popular guy at Hill High gave his tutor a brief glance. Whatever the reason it was obvious that Max wasn't very pleased to find her eldest sibling home so early and unexpectedly.

Shandra's scowl seemed to deepen as if reading the dislike directed towards her. "Do you have any idea what time it is? Is this what you've been doing while I was away?" Max appeared to cringe at the motherly tone she was being chastised with. Nelson wondered why that was; and as if on cue Shandra's irritation shifted in bearing for him. "Whoring yourself out to a jock dreg?"

Nelson nearly dropped Chelsea on the ground with how pissed he'd just became. "Peg it, bitch-!" he started with a glower.

"Knock it off Nash," Max interrupted, not looking at him but obviously hurt by her sister's harsh words. "Go home." Gibson turned and took Cunningham's arm, burdening her friend's drunk weight – though both somewhat sobered teens couldn't hide their shock when Shandra reached out to help, taking the blonde's other arm and working with Maxine to drag her inside for the couch. Once dumped off Max headed back to the front door, meeting eyes with Nash for the last time. "Go home," she repeated softly – detached – irises glazing over with some kind of emotion, some kind of pain that made the jock want to kill the elder woman for ruining their perfect night.

"I'll call you, alright?" Nelson responded, placing a hand on her waist comfortingly, worried. It was only when Gibson nodded emptily that Nelson Nash turned away for the elevator…but not willingly.

She watched his back, chewing on a lip until the elevator door opened. "Nash!" He looked back at her standing outside of the apartment: her heart fluttered at how swiftly the boy was willing to turn back…for her. Max's gaze lit up in a saddened cheer that made his heart melt. "I had fun…" Nelson was surprised at first, but sighed with a worn yet pleased smile; then disappeared from sight onto the elevator.

Max closed the front door alongside a huff, walking over to the couch and pulling a blanket over Chelsea's passed out frame before heading for the bedroom only to growl at the mess that was Shandra's traveling bags strewn everywhere. "What is this? A pig pen?" the youngest Gibson complained as she attempted to step over the chaos for the dresser to retrieve a change of clothes.

"It's my room!"

"Was."

Shandra leaned against the bedroom wall with folded arms and counters back amid a sarcastic grin, "Nice try sweet cakes but that's not what we're fighting about. Do you have any idea what time it is?" Max rolls her eyes, digging through the drawer as her self-righteous sister who didn't have a single right to be preaching about responsibility continued in a more aggressive and controlling tone, "You must have lost your mind! You're walking in my front door toasted with an out girl and some guy – just what the hell were you thinking about doing in MY house?!"

"He was just helping to bring Chelsea home; what's the big deal?" Exhausted, Max plopped down on the bed, taking off the dress and tossing a giant blue t-shirt beside her to put on after a good long shower. Gibson leaned back on the pillow-top in just a bra and panties, covering her eyes with an arm in frustration. Having Shandra here was one thing: but having her here trying to lecture Max in the midst of the elder's own reckless stupidities was pushing her to the edge…and what's more Max knew it was just a game – a game she was getting mighty tired of playing. A perfect evening had just gone down the drain and with all this shit Max was losing the remaining "high" of their previous good time…she was losing the butterflies in her stomach in remembrance of Nelson's soft caresses on her skin; from the way the hair on the back of her neck stood with tingles each time he whispered something in her ear…the way he had stared at her all night like she was the best thing to ever happen to him – and the way she felt like the time they'd been spending together was the best of hers.

"The big deal is that you're being a disrespectful brat! Is this the way you repay me for taking care of you all these years? Bringing a random guy into my home? I didn't have to take you in. I didn't have to let you stay here while I was away working! But because I'm such a great person I did!"

"God, Shandra!" Maxine hollers all of a sudden with enough belligerence to make the older sister hesitate in surprise as the geek sits up speedily, glaring. "Shut up already! You're not a saint, trust me I know! He's not some random guy – he's my friend! And since when the hell do you care anyway?" Max demands, tossing a hand in Shandra's direction in irritation. "You're never home, you don't even call to check up on me unless it's a major holiday; it's a miracle I'm not strung out on drugs or dead on a friggin corner by now! So please," Maxine adds with annoyance, standing up from the bed still half naked and heading to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, "please don't pretend you give a damn about me. If I remember correctly, you stood on a corner in high school just to make extra credits to buy shoes. Lecturing isn't your thing."

Shandra didn't know if she was in disbelief at Max's back talk (something the youngest had rarely done before, particularly with this amount of…passion), or that she was far more perceptive than Shandra remembered. They walked in the kitchen, Shandra leaning over the counter lazily – all maturity and genuine concern gone from her attitude. Responsible adult, fake Shandra was gone – ignorant, childish, selfish, spoiled, bratty Shandra was here now. "Ugh you're so bitchy; why do you have to ruin my fun? Honestly I should've put you out and let the red-head stay. He was hot."

Max scowled and sipped on her water. The look she gave Shandra was full of a certain kind of rage that made Shandra chuckle darkly, cooing out playfully in false fear. "Slut," Max stated possessively. Gibson would never let Nelson fall into Shandra's clutches…never.

"Maaaaybe," Shandra sings out eerily, "but slut's get taken care of. You work emptily for everything like the little robot you are, isolating yourself from having a life. That makes you a nobody: which makes you less of a human than me!" She rests her head on an arm, flashing a ring on her finger with a wide smirk. "Besides bot-girl, this slut's retiring."

Max grimaces, hopping on the counter beside the kitchen sink and crossing her legs, looking down on her sister with an enmity that made even Chelsea cringe in the deep world of drunken sleep. This was what life had become for the two Gibson girls: no love or nurturing, no concern for the other's wellbeing; only hatred simmered between them that flowed openly when together. Max hadn't always been a book worm who valued computer and program specs over human interaction. She'd once been a lively and fun girl bubbling with happiness – and Shandra her best friend in the whole world…until their parents started fighting more often, more violently. Then everything changed. The parents forced each other's ideals on their brilliant daughter to piss off the other without regard for her wellbeing, and because Max always seemed to be the center of the fights Shandra naturally blamed her for the day their mom and dad finally split up. Max thought the harder she studied then the better things would be, but it seemed like they only got worse. She remembered being a young child maintaining the highest grade point average in the entire school and thinking that news would make her parents proud…but instead the fights only got more hostile. She remembered thinking that maybe she wasn't studying hard enough – she had too many friends, wasn't focused; so Max shut them all out…and became alone forever.

Shandra blamed Max; but because Shandra was always out partying and acting like a drug addict it caused more arguments – and Max in turn pinned the blame on her sister. Why couldn't Shandra be there for her when she needed a big sister? Why was she out smoking and drinking and selling her body for money instead of being a support to Max, instead of making mom and dad proud? The sisters grew apart, and what were once miniscule bouts of disagreement transformed into something far more dark and destructive in their relationship. But of course Shandra "turned her life around": got a steady job, got to see the world; she became the favorite and Max the wild rebel who was ruining the Gibson name with her pink hair…hair that Max dyed to try to individualize herself from their stupid ideals of what they wanted her to be and find a place in the world outside of this screwed up family! She turned to what she could do; programed and hacked and thoroughly enjoyed it, even if Max would never admit it: she liked the control, the idea of others succumbing and falling powerless under a life that SHE chose rather than the other way around as it had been for the majority of her life.

Now whenever she and Shandra were together it was like all the hatred they'd birthed for one another was put out on the table for the world to see. Those narrowed glares, those cold demeanors and murderously callous attitudes – it was almost impossible to imagine Max Gibson could ever turn into someone as terrifying and enraged as she was right now. "Who would marry you?"

"A pilot," Shandra answered back dreamily, turning her hand in different directions to watch the huge rock sparkle brilliantly. "He's great."

Max scoffs as the corner of her lips raise in a deviant smile. "You don't even love him. You love his paycheck."

"Duuuh, you insignificant little twip. I'll be taken care of for life! Anyways," she adds standing upright and flipping her thick black locks in that "I'm better than you'll ever be" stagnant way Max couldn't stand, "I'm leaving the apartment. I just came to get my things. We're getting married in Neo-Peru."

"You're kicking me out?!" the brainiac figured almost in disbelief.

"Mom and Dad said you can stay with either of them. It's not like I'm leaving you homeless," Shandra scoffs like she'd just been insulted. "At least I'm nice enough to let you know. Besides, you're a growing woman can't keep playing the victim forever, darling. You've got to take care of yourself sooner or later…well, sooner."

Max raises a brow, chuckling at her sister with a shake of the head and jumping down from the sink, nonchalantly heading back to the bedroom switching from side to side because she knew how much her sister hated that: Shandra may have been the prettiest, but Max was the hottest with a great face and an even greater body. Jealousy was also on the eldest girl's face. "Funny to hear that coming from you," Max teases. "You've never taken care of yourself. You've always relied on some asshole's credits to make it through everything! I've been more of a woman than you ever have or will be!" Max pauses in the hall, turning back slightly, seductively looking over her shoulder with an unreadable taunting expression: "You idiot. Did you ever think about how you were still able to use your key?"

The tone in her sister's voice made the eldest Gibson suddenly burn with irascibility; Shandra growls approaching Max hostilely, sick and tired of her sister's smart mouth. She could snap so easily. "You know sugar?" Shandra questions, grabbing Max's bra strap and slamming her against the wall with a stinging strike on the face figuring the youngest Gibson would, as usual, do nothing. Shandra always put her hands on Max – and Max never fought back. And Shandra loved it; like having a gym membership for free. "You always thought you were soooo smart Maxie. Maxine, the answer to all of our problems! Maxine the brilliant little cunt who mom and dad cherished soooo much! Well I'm the favorite now: I'm marrying into money and they will LOVE me like they used to love you! And you'll be all alone, all over again you sad little robot girl. You're pathetic."

"No," Max disputes, shoving Shandra back with such power the older sister falls on the ground. Max jumps on top of her, pinning her down with blatant rage – now Shandra's gone too far; now she's hit below the belt. Now Max had reached her limit. How dare she say something like that?! And to put her hands on Max?! The hoe! That gold digging slut bucket! She was done being abused by the likes of her! "You're pathetic."

Max glares down at her big sister with a hand on her throat enjoying the look of what appeared to be growing fear and rage as Shandra struggled under Max's strength – a strength that definitely increased over the years. Yeah, out of all that big talk Max was finally proving that she was the real top dog of the junkyard – and had no problem putting the other bitches in place! "Let's see if we can get that molten little brain of yours working for a few seconds. Keep up with me, okay honey? You haven't sent rent money in over four months, Shandra. I get not calling but like four times a year and crap, but really? I matter that little to you that you could easily forget about me? I'VE been paying the rent AND the utilities. I've been making my own credits by using my brain instead of shaking my ass for a bartender or pimp or pilot like you do." Her grip intensifies causing the elder sister to panic with a gasp, clawing at Max's chest to no avail. That look in her eyes…this wasn't the same little girl from all those times before. Max was screwed up now, really, literally screwed up! "I'm the reason you could even walk in the door! And you've got the audacity to come at me sideways? I pay the bills, I signed the new lease. So you got a problem with how I come home, or who I hang with, or how late I stay out then FINE!" Maxine Gibson lowers a maddened face to Shandra's and whispers darkly with a one-sided ultimatum, "Get. The FUCK. Out of MY house!" Shandra stares at her baffled…that had escalated quickly. But the older daughter's gaze grows pissed… So it was about to get real, huh? Well then fine!

Nelson opens the front door to the house not even bothering with trying to be quiet. The living room light was on: he knew what that meant; and his assumptions were clarified before he could even step completely beyond the threshold. "WHAT YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING BOY?!"

Nelson peers into the living room and sees his father standing there; face red and using the fireplace to support his weight. Nash turns for the stairs, greeting, "You're drunk."

"YOU GET BACK HERE!" Nelson sighs and walks into the living room with an empty frown. He learned it was best to come emotionless – it usually meant the fighting didn't last as long…then again, everything went awry when his father was this drunk. "Where you been boy?!"

"Celebrating," Nelson answered honestly and levelly. "We won. Going to State."

His father paused briefly; deep down this pleased him, Nash knew that – but right now he was not going to look like he was soft. No. Nelson needed a hard teaching! What the father said was LAW in this house. "You been drinking?" Nelson didn't even have time to answer before his father adds incredulously as if affronted at the idea of someone being intoxicated, "You're drunk! How dare you come into MY HOUSE DRUNK?!" All Nelson could think about was how much of a hypocrite his old man was right now. "Party, fine! But be out this late and drunk? What if the police pulled you over? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THIS COULD DO TO YOUR FUTURE?!" The father pushes himself off the fireplace, stumbling for a second with a groan before gaining a more stable stance. There was a glass bottle in his hand – Nelson didn't notice that originally…neither did he notice the other six spread out around the room. "You're going to screw up our plan! BY BEING DRUNK! YOU'RE AN IDIOT!"

Your plan! Nelson wants to scream out. Instead he balls his fist. "I'm not drunk..." For the first time in his life since being a child Nelson Nash defended himself against his father's verbal assaults and slandering. No. Back then he was merely attempting to "defend" himself – which always resulted in a cruel lashing. But this was him challenging the old man. He would've never done this before but: the images of the good time he had been having with Max just hours before, holding her hand, feeling as if they had drawn closer emotionally…seeing that look of pain on her face when he left her there with her sister…somehow that ticked him off and made the jock suddenly fed up with this circus he was living with his father. He put up with it for all these years because there had been no one he could turn to, no one to offer Nash support. But Max changed that. Her genuine care for him, the way he felt about her, made Nelson realize he was sick of being bullied – and being forced into a life that the sports star was no longer sure he now, or had ever, wanted to begin with!

The father raised a brow, realizing that the authority he'd so long maintained was being challenged as he threw the bottle against a far wall, a shattering sound followed after the gesture. Nelson's mom crept down the stairs looking tired and worn and worried: shame Nelson didn't know if it was for him or his father. "What you say?! You calling me a liar, boy?!"

"I'm not calling you a liar…I'm calling you wrong." With a guttural cry his father lunged forward, shaking the boy by his sports jacket roughly with an onslaught of profanities and drunken slurs before slamming the back of an arm against Nash's face, causing the teen to fall back against the wooden table, breaking it in half. His mother runs down the steps but never crosses the living room; only cries and whimpers for them to stop fighting. Them? Them?! It's never been them fighting! It's always been Nelson taking a beating for no reason, always never a reason. "You no good little piss wad!" the father screeches, pulling Nash up and punching him over and over on his face and sides and stomach. "You think you're a man disrespecting me in my house! C'MON THEN! BE A MAN! BE A MAN-UGH!"

The father bends over upon the fist planted deep in his stomach, coughing up some of the excess beer he'd forced down earlier. He looked up, sweaty, to Nelson in bewilderment; and Nelson glared back angrily as blood oozed from his mouth and head. "You want me to be a man, dad? Your definition of being a man is fighting mindlessly, beating up on the little guy, the one who can't fight back…right? Okay then. I'll be the man you've always wanted me to be for once." With his opposite hand Nelson swings, punching his father square in the jaw stumbling back as the old man wraps his arms about his son's waist, lifting and then slamming Nash down onto the carpet. The two of them tussle about on the floor for quite some time exchanging punches repeatedly. "I hate you!" Nelson screams as he gets on top of his father's stomach and delivers multiple blows on the man who should've been an example but turned out to be nothing more than a bully. "I hate the life you want me to live! I WONT live it anymore! You're a drunk! You're disgusting!"

His green eyes look up at a scream and pair of hands shoving him back…and he frowns at his mother cowering upon her husband's battered body – a body that matched Nelson's – yelling for him to stop. Nelson takes a deep breath, head swooning and growing lightheaded before standing slowly to his feet with heavy pants. "You care more about the piece of trash that's been beating your son, than the human that lived inside of you…that you birthed…You're just as disgusting as he is. I don't have to subject myself to this…not anymore." Without another word he grabs his keys and runs outside for the car, leaving a trail of blood behind him…but it wasn't all his blood – not anymore at least.

The doorbell rang and Max looked up from the corner in the bedroom slowly. The clock said it was going on four in the morning…who would even be coming by here this late? Gibson stood shakily and wearily walked to the front door as the bell rang again and again, this time accompanied with desperate knocks. Chelsea was still knocked out – how Max relished her peace. Max grabbed the doorknob and pulled it open and gasped at the young man wearing a Hill High Sports Jacket barely, leaning against her doorpost in exhaustion. "Nelson?" He was covered in bruises and scars, his head bleeding. "What happened to you?!" she screeched, taking him into her arms and guiding him inside. "I've got a first aid kit. You'll be okay."

Nash allowed his eyes to focus, breathing heavily. He hadn't known where to go; driving around was nearly impossible with the pain he was enduring right now. Sure with the amount of credits on hand and fueled up tank Nash could've gone anywhere he desired out of this hell hole of a city: but before he knew it he'd pulled in front of the building of the one person he craved to see more than anything or anyone else right in this whole world – though now this time it was his turn to be shocked. "M-Max?!" Here she stood in nothing more than a large t-shirt with deep claw marks on her chest, blood just drying, a bruise on her collarbone, scar across her left cheek beneath the eye, and bloodstain resting out the corner of her lips. "What the hell?!" Nelson grabbed the beautiful tutor's arms with a groan of disbelief, looking her over with an expression that made her heart lurch. "Who did this to you? Was it your sister?!" He cradled her face in his palm gently, and she with a breathy gasp pushed the cheek into Nelson's hand, receiving the comfort. Oh God this was getting hard…

"You should see her," Max joked lightly, wrapping his arm across her sore shoulder but bearing with it, leading the jock towards the bedroom after kicking the door closed with her foot. "C'mon big guy. We'll share stories. I show you my scars, you show me yours?" Setting him down on the bed Max turns on the bathroom light. "I was getting ready to shower, but you should go first. I'll bandage you up afterwards…okay?" Somehow the thought of him being here this late made her feel dizzy. Why did he come here of all places? Why not…Blade's or something?

Nelson sighs in agreement, the only strength he could muster up at the moment as Max stepped in front of him and gently removed the stretched out jacket and pulled his shirt off, assessing the damage with a frown. "Did your father do this to you?"

Nelson grinned in spite of himself. "You should see him."

Max snorted in amusement before nodding, pulling the teen up so he could go to the bathroom. "I don't want you falling so just clean up at the sink. I'll find you some fresh clothes to change into while I'm cleaning up…" Positive that Shandra had some spare guy clothes stashed around here somewhere she turned for the dresser drawer, but a large set of arms wrapped themselves around her shoulder and waist, stopping the genius hacker dead in her tracks. With wide eyes Max stared into the mirror straight ahead and looked at their reflections…at how hurt and relaxed and torn up he (how they both) seemed with his face buried into her neck…they both looked as though they had been through a world war – just to be in each other's arms. Max's heart flutters. Why? Why was she thinking these things? Wasn't Shandra right? Didn't she know nothing but loneliness? Wasn't that all she was good for? And yet here was Nelson in her apartment, holding her in his arms instead of finding reconciliation in Blade's. It made her happy – guilty, but happy, and so afraid.

"Max…" Nelson whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I don't know what I'd do without you…" and just like that with a soft whimper that left the girl speechless and touched she knew. He was being weak with her; and it seemed like his bruises, much like her own, hurt in more than just one way. Max took a deep breath and raised up her hands as much as the jock's hold would allow and touched the flesh of his arms in her own little returned embrace. "I don't know what I'd do-," he whimpered again, squeezing her tighter, his lips finding themselves gently running over her neck. He gritted his teeth, trying to fight back the burning tears that threatened to overflow. Nelson wanted her closer – he wanted to feel her, to hear her voice encourage him softly…he wanted to stay with her like this forever, tell Max just how he really felt: and how those feelings had grown and transformed into something so powerful that even though it scared him the boy wanted it, needed it desperately with her.

But he didn't think he could – he didn't think that she could ever want someone as screwed up and artificial as he was…Nelson dropped his arms and headed for the bathroom, closing the door and leaving Max standing there in front of the mirror feeling an immediate surge of cold and emptiness. The sound of the faucet started running and Max's brows arched upward. What was this? This sudden burning in her chest like her heart had been set on fire and only he could extinguish it? Her vision blurred and Max covered her mouth with one free palm as the other arm held herself in an attempt to recreate the comfort only he seemingly could give her. As he cleaned up in the bathroom Max's legs gave out, she fell to her knees on the carpet and cried as silently as she could.

And just like that, crying on the floor of the moonlight bedroom, she knew: Maxine Gibson was in love with Nelson Nash.

To Be Continued…