Eli: The story goes on. Enjoy.
Less than 50% of all children give up are ever reunited with their natural parents. From that group, 75% of the ones searching are the children, not the parents.
When Sara saw Lydia reunite with one of her children, it was heartbreaking. The feeling was mutual in the room. All fears were forgotten and hope reigned. No one was worried for the future at this moment.
Except for Ian.
He secretly tensed up through all of this. It was a timeless tradition that mothers wish to know all that was going on in your life, and most complied. But that was because they didn't have something to hide. He did.
He couldn't share his history with her, no matter how much she begged. How does one tell their mother that they kill for a living? That because she had given him up, he had been abused his entire lifetime. And that he wasn't of the normal world. No, never! It must be kept a secret.
Ian was smart in thinking this. Soon, Lydia had him sitting down in Sara's kitchen. Sara chose to stand and watch.
"Now, tell me about yourself, my son." She asked joyfully. Ian just remained silent, carefully thinking over what to say. Lydia grew impatient. "Well, I can certainly see that your a bit shy."
"I'm sorry." Ian started. "But you must understand, there are things I can not tell you. Not because I don't trust you, but because I fear you misunderstand them." Lydia nodded.
"Like why you were on the good Detectives fire escape?"
That was a bit embarassing. Ian held it back and just went with it. "Yes, but be assured there is a good reason."
"Oh, I know. No son of mine would ever grow to be a pervert, peeping Tom, or whatever they call those types of men these days. Besides, if you were, Sara would have kicked your behind six ways to Sunday. She is a very powerful young woman."
Sara rolled her eyes, which did not go unoticed by Lydia. "What?"
"There is at least one thing I can say, mother." The mother felt weird on his tongue. He lived a whole lifetime without saying it. After he got over the awkward feeling, he continued on. "I am highly trained, both physically and mentally."
Lydia smiled. "I expected as much.After all, you ARE the protector." Ian looked at her in disbelief.
"How did you know?"
"I have always known."
"Then someone has informed you of my destiny?"
"What is your destiny, Ian?"
"To protect the wielder of the witchblade." Lydia shook her head.
"That is not your destiny. It may be what you are trained for, but it is not what you are meant to do." Ian was now utterly confused. Lydia actually thought it was kind of funny making him shocked. "Ian, do you believe in God?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Nothing has ever given me a reason to."
"You're alive aren't you?"
"That depends...." He stopped a moment to think. "On what you consider living." He quietly lowered his head to avoid her gaze. She had no clue what he could mean, but she clearly saw that whatever it was, it brought him great pain. She took his hand, trying to be comforting. She didn't intend for her Lord the savior to give her a taste of exactly what her son went through.
Pain, imense pain. To Lydia's horror, that was what Ian's history was. A man with an iron clad heart. Not a surrogate parent, but a master over him. One who told him he was created, that he was a freak. A man who hated everything and took that out on her son. That angered her extremely. This man had hurt HER child. How dare he even considered himself worthy to do such a thing, to the child, to the teenager, to the man Ian was now.
She had dreamed of how her children's lifes must be. Beautiful presents on Christmas and birthdays. Learning to ride a two wheeler bike. Being scared of the monsters in the bed while a gentle voice soothed them to sleep. She never, not once, had ever fathomed that one of them could be placed somewhere where gifts were not acceptable. That there were no bikes, no play things. All of his "toys" were mass weapons of desturction. And fear was not allowed. He screamed, cried, all to vain. No one had cared, no one had been there to care.
Ian's history was dipped in blood. It was a freak show of one gruesome, inhuman act after another. It was no wonder he didn't believe in God, he really didn't have a reson to. What person would after a childhood like that, if you could consider that a childhood.
All this had happened in a mere second. One tear trailed down the side of her face as she opened her eyes. Sara and Ian were both a bit taken back by her actions.
"Mother?" She looked at him, and then down. She let go of his hand and got up. She paced the room shaking her head. Ian tried to get her to calm down, but it was in vain. Finally, she looked over to him and stammered out
"I'm so sorry, Ian. I.... I.... didn't know.... They told me....at the conevent... that you would be provided for....... Oh, God...... I sweat to you if.... if.... I had known.... I would have run.... run, despite what God said..... Oh, I'm so..... just so sorry." She hung her head. "I saw what he did to you........ I will kill him. I will kill him with my bare hands!"
"He is already dead, mother. Surely you saw that as well." He answered to her, almost in a whisper. "Along with what I am."
"Yes," She said softly. He was about to look away when she held his gaze. "But that wasn't you. It was what he forced you to do. What he taught you was right. You know now that it wasn't. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are a good person." He didn't believe her and turned from her, so she persisted.
"You are." He actually scoffed at her reply.
"Yeah, despite the blood on my hands? Did you see everything? do you have any idea how many people there are?" He smirked in pain as he headed toward the door. "If not, then I beg Sara to tell you. I know she would love to tell you of my misdoings. He left the room and closed the door behind him.
Lydia stood shivering from pain and great sadness. Sara couldn't even begin to know what pain she now harbored. She immediately followed Ian out.
"Hey Nottingham! Get your ass back here!" She demanded. He halted and slowly turned around to face her. He smirked and shook his head.
"Now is not the time to bitch at me, Sara."
"How can you smile at this moment? And don't give me bullshit about how death gets you sprung." He sighed bitterly at the comment.
"Sara, please get to your point." She glared up at him.
"Your mother has been busting her ass for years worrying about you. Not to mention that she gave you up to save your pathetic existance. And now that she's found you, and has already said she doesn't care about the past, you totally discard her like that?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"Sara, it is none of your concern. Leave it."
"Fuck you! Can't you see how much being seperated from you killed her?! You think you're the only person that suffered? She didn't even know if you were still alive! I understand that Irons must have put you through hell, and I sympathize. But if you blame it on your mother, then I hope to God, or to whoever, that you suffer in your own hell. Now, get your ass back in my apartment and talk to her. Do you hear me?"
He hadn't thought of it that way before. He was now shamed at his own anger. He nodded and walked past her back to her door. As he passed her he softly said. "Thank you."
She stood there a moment, not moving, but thinking about what had happened. Finally, to an empty halway, she muttered out "No problem."
They had her chained up. The mantacles were imbedded into the wall above her head. She had to stand. But now she was limply fallen over. Her wrists were raw from having to hold her weight.
He hadn't come. She had wished him to, she had felt that he wanted to, but he didn't. He didn't believe she was real. It was easier for him to believe that then to have to play Batman. She didn't blame him. She wasn't angry at him. That took energy she didn't have. And he was her last hope.
Or at least she had thought, but she was wrong.
There was another. She didn't sense him, but he sure as hell knew her. He saw, along with Ian, what she went through. Her pain, her hopelessness, her fear. He felt it all, too.
God, the dreams were heart breaking, terrible. He tried describing them to his girlfriend, but he couldn't put it into words.
Now, here he was again. Seeing her, wishing he could do something. He felt connected with her. What was it that made her somewhat........ familiar?
His girlfriend woke him up.
"Baby, you were shaking again. Is it the dreams?" He nodded. He and Hestia were both sitting up. She put her head on his shoulder and he slipped an arm around her.
"Can you tell me about it?" He shook his head no. She nodded. "If you want to you can. I will help. I want to help. You know that, right." He smiled.
"Of course, Tia. I know." He shook his head and laughed at himself. "This is the point where you call me a freak and never speak to me again."
"That only happens if you don't love th person. All of the person." She smirked before adding "Even if they ARE a freak." He sighed and nuzzled her neck. She laughed softly.
"Well, I may be a freak, but I'm YOUR freak. As much as you are mine." She nodded and tilted her head. "Am I a freak as well?" He shook his head again and put his other arm around her waist and held her. Almost like she was a child and he a storyteller.
"You, my love, are a goddess." She rolled her eyes.
"Stop, the cheesiness is giving me acne."
"No, really. The goddess, Hestia, was the goddess of hearth and religon."
"Are you just saying that because I always try to drag you to church with me?" He tapped her lips to bade her to be quiet. Then he continued.
" She made sure that all the gods recieved the proper honor. She once sat with the major gods on the twelve thrones, but gave it up out of the goodness of her heart for her nephew Dionysus. Mortals loved her and it was proclaimed that all sacred fires were her throne."
Hestia smiled at the compliment. "Well, your just brilliant, aren't you?"
"No, I just know a few things about mythology." Hestia shook her head.
"Na, you are brilliant." She yawned. "And I'm tired."
"Sorry I woke you."
"You can't help it. Think you can sleep now?"
"With you here? Of course." Hestia smiled again. she turned off the lights in their room as he pulled the covers up around them. They snuggled perfectly together and whispered drowsy good nights.
"Good night, Hestia." He said into her hair. She shut her eyes and leaned against his chest.
"Good night, Gabriel."
Less than 50% of all children give up are ever reunited with their natural parents. From that group, 75% of the ones searching are the children, not the parents.
When Sara saw Lydia reunite with one of her children, it was heartbreaking. The feeling was mutual in the room. All fears were forgotten and hope reigned. No one was worried for the future at this moment.
Except for Ian.
He secretly tensed up through all of this. It was a timeless tradition that mothers wish to know all that was going on in your life, and most complied. But that was because they didn't have something to hide. He did.
He couldn't share his history with her, no matter how much she begged. How does one tell their mother that they kill for a living? That because she had given him up, he had been abused his entire lifetime. And that he wasn't of the normal world. No, never! It must be kept a secret.
Ian was smart in thinking this. Soon, Lydia had him sitting down in Sara's kitchen. Sara chose to stand and watch.
"Now, tell me about yourself, my son." She asked joyfully. Ian just remained silent, carefully thinking over what to say. Lydia grew impatient. "Well, I can certainly see that your a bit shy."
"I'm sorry." Ian started. "But you must understand, there are things I can not tell you. Not because I don't trust you, but because I fear you misunderstand them." Lydia nodded.
"Like why you were on the good Detectives fire escape?"
That was a bit embarassing. Ian held it back and just went with it. "Yes, but be assured there is a good reason."
"Oh, I know. No son of mine would ever grow to be a pervert, peeping Tom, or whatever they call those types of men these days. Besides, if you were, Sara would have kicked your behind six ways to Sunday. She is a very powerful young woman."
Sara rolled her eyes, which did not go unoticed by Lydia. "What?"
"There is at least one thing I can say, mother." The mother felt weird on his tongue. He lived a whole lifetime without saying it. After he got over the awkward feeling, he continued on. "I am highly trained, both physically and mentally."
Lydia smiled. "I expected as much.After all, you ARE the protector." Ian looked at her in disbelief.
"How did you know?"
"I have always known."
"Then someone has informed you of my destiny?"
"What is your destiny, Ian?"
"To protect the wielder of the witchblade." Lydia shook her head.
"That is not your destiny. It may be what you are trained for, but it is not what you are meant to do." Ian was now utterly confused. Lydia actually thought it was kind of funny making him shocked. "Ian, do you believe in God?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Nothing has ever given me a reason to."
"You're alive aren't you?"
"That depends...." He stopped a moment to think. "On what you consider living." He quietly lowered his head to avoid her gaze. She had no clue what he could mean, but she clearly saw that whatever it was, it brought him great pain. She took his hand, trying to be comforting. She didn't intend for her Lord the savior to give her a taste of exactly what her son went through.
Pain, imense pain. To Lydia's horror, that was what Ian's history was. A man with an iron clad heart. Not a surrogate parent, but a master over him. One who told him he was created, that he was a freak. A man who hated everything and took that out on her son. That angered her extremely. This man had hurt HER child. How dare he even considered himself worthy to do such a thing, to the child, to the teenager, to the man Ian was now.
She had dreamed of how her children's lifes must be. Beautiful presents on Christmas and birthdays. Learning to ride a two wheeler bike. Being scared of the monsters in the bed while a gentle voice soothed them to sleep. She never, not once, had ever fathomed that one of them could be placed somewhere where gifts were not acceptable. That there were no bikes, no play things. All of his "toys" were mass weapons of desturction. And fear was not allowed. He screamed, cried, all to vain. No one had cared, no one had been there to care.
Ian's history was dipped in blood. It was a freak show of one gruesome, inhuman act after another. It was no wonder he didn't believe in God, he really didn't have a reson to. What person would after a childhood like that, if you could consider that a childhood.
All this had happened in a mere second. One tear trailed down the side of her face as she opened her eyes. Sara and Ian were both a bit taken back by her actions.
"Mother?" She looked at him, and then down. She let go of his hand and got up. She paced the room shaking her head. Ian tried to get her to calm down, but it was in vain. Finally, she looked over to him and stammered out
"I'm so sorry, Ian. I.... I.... didn't know.... They told me....at the conevent... that you would be provided for....... Oh, God...... I sweat to you if.... if.... I had known.... I would have run.... run, despite what God said..... Oh, I'm so..... just so sorry." She hung her head. "I saw what he did to you........ I will kill him. I will kill him with my bare hands!"
"He is already dead, mother. Surely you saw that as well." He answered to her, almost in a whisper. "Along with what I am."
"Yes," She said softly. He was about to look away when she held his gaze. "But that wasn't you. It was what he forced you to do. What he taught you was right. You know now that it wasn't. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are a good person." He didn't believe her and turned from her, so she persisted.
"You are." He actually scoffed at her reply.
"Yeah, despite the blood on my hands? Did you see everything? do you have any idea how many people there are?" He smirked in pain as he headed toward the door. "If not, then I beg Sara to tell you. I know she would love to tell you of my misdoings. He left the room and closed the door behind him.
Lydia stood shivering from pain and great sadness. Sara couldn't even begin to know what pain she now harbored. She immediately followed Ian out.
"Hey Nottingham! Get your ass back here!" She demanded. He halted and slowly turned around to face her. He smirked and shook his head.
"Now is not the time to bitch at me, Sara."
"How can you smile at this moment? And don't give me bullshit about how death gets you sprung." He sighed bitterly at the comment.
"Sara, please get to your point." She glared up at him.
"Your mother has been busting her ass for years worrying about you. Not to mention that she gave you up to save your pathetic existance. And now that she's found you, and has already said she doesn't care about the past, you totally discard her like that?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"Sara, it is none of your concern. Leave it."
"Fuck you! Can't you see how much being seperated from you killed her?! You think you're the only person that suffered? She didn't even know if you were still alive! I understand that Irons must have put you through hell, and I sympathize. But if you blame it on your mother, then I hope to God, or to whoever, that you suffer in your own hell. Now, get your ass back in my apartment and talk to her. Do you hear me?"
He hadn't thought of it that way before. He was now shamed at his own anger. He nodded and walked past her back to her door. As he passed her he softly said. "Thank you."
She stood there a moment, not moving, but thinking about what had happened. Finally, to an empty halway, she muttered out "No problem."
They had her chained up. The mantacles were imbedded into the wall above her head. She had to stand. But now she was limply fallen over. Her wrists were raw from having to hold her weight.
He hadn't come. She had wished him to, she had felt that he wanted to, but he didn't. He didn't believe she was real. It was easier for him to believe that then to have to play Batman. She didn't blame him. She wasn't angry at him. That took energy she didn't have. And he was her last hope.
Or at least she had thought, but she was wrong.
There was another. She didn't sense him, but he sure as hell knew her. He saw, along with Ian, what she went through. Her pain, her hopelessness, her fear. He felt it all, too.
God, the dreams were heart breaking, terrible. He tried describing them to his girlfriend, but he couldn't put it into words.
Now, here he was again. Seeing her, wishing he could do something. He felt connected with her. What was it that made her somewhat........ familiar?
His girlfriend woke him up.
"Baby, you were shaking again. Is it the dreams?" He nodded. He and Hestia were both sitting up. She put her head on his shoulder and he slipped an arm around her.
"Can you tell me about it?" He shook his head no. She nodded. "If you want to you can. I will help. I want to help. You know that, right." He smiled.
"Of course, Tia. I know." He shook his head and laughed at himself. "This is the point where you call me a freak and never speak to me again."
"That only happens if you don't love th person. All of the person." She smirked before adding "Even if they ARE a freak." He sighed and nuzzled her neck. She laughed softly.
"Well, I may be a freak, but I'm YOUR freak. As much as you are mine." She nodded and tilted her head. "Am I a freak as well?" He shook his head again and put his other arm around her waist and held her. Almost like she was a child and he a storyteller.
"You, my love, are a goddess." She rolled her eyes.
"Stop, the cheesiness is giving me acne."
"No, really. The goddess, Hestia, was the goddess of hearth and religon."
"Are you just saying that because I always try to drag you to church with me?" He tapped her lips to bade her to be quiet. Then he continued.
" She made sure that all the gods recieved the proper honor. She once sat with the major gods on the twelve thrones, but gave it up out of the goodness of her heart for her nephew Dionysus. Mortals loved her and it was proclaimed that all sacred fires were her throne."
Hestia smiled at the compliment. "Well, your just brilliant, aren't you?"
"No, I just know a few things about mythology." Hestia shook her head.
"Na, you are brilliant." She yawned. "And I'm tired."
"Sorry I woke you."
"You can't help it. Think you can sleep now?"
"With you here? Of course." Hestia smiled again. she turned off the lights in their room as he pulled the covers up around them. They snuggled perfectly together and whispered drowsy good nights.
"Good night, Hestia." He said into her hair. She shut her eyes and leaned against his chest.
"Good night, Gabriel."