It was a grim company that assembled in the dirty, dimly-lit subway station beneath the streets of Boston, and boarded the train that would take them to the city's south side, and to the Saints who would be waiting for them. Other passengers scattered from in front of them as they passed, fearing to cross the silent, solemn crowd.
Here we are now, going to the south
side
I pick my friends and we hope we
won't die
Not a word was spoken as the train lurched into movement. They looked silently at each underneath the lights which flickered with each tremor of the train as it ran over the tracks. Between flashes of light and dark, they could see Moseby, his face stoic, but his clothes neatly pressed and ironed. He wanted to make sure he would look his best in case he should meet his fate this night. Carey could be seen with an arm around each of her sons. She was starting to feel like she should not have let them come, but how could she not allow them to fight for their friends?
Next to the trio sat Arwin, nervously fingering a long, sharp screwdriver in one hand, and a large, heavy wrench in the other. Despite the fact that he was part of a powerful gang, at heart Arwin was not a fighter. He generally did not like confrontation, and had joined the group primarily for protection. As part of the gang, he could defend himself through strength in numbers, whereas on his own he would have been dead meat. But he would fight when he had to, and this was one of those times. There was no way he would let his friends go off to battle without his support, no way he would not help to bring justice for Maddie. It was she who needed protection now, and he would fight to give it to her, just like the other Tiptons had given him.
Anger was evident in every line of Patrick's face. All of the angst and disappointment of his wasted dreams was concentrated into this moment. In fighting for Maddie, he was fighting for the chance for her to live out her dreams, as he himself had never been able to do. Maybe if someone had been there to help him, he could have done something with his life.
London, her expressions alternating between fear and determination.. She wanted to fight for Maddie, and for all of her comrades, but what if they should fail? The Saints were no two-bit group of thugs. They were cunning and they were able. They had, after all, killed her father, who had seemed so powerful to her. And now they had almost killed Maddie. London wondered uncomfortably whether Maddie would be the only Tipton left after this night. Whether she would be left more alone than London herself had been after her father's death. That experience had been terrible enough, and she had still had the other Tiptons to lean on. But if they were defeated by the Saints, Maddie would have no one in the whole world, and London couldn't let that happen. She would fight so that Maddie would always have someone to be there for her.
This thought led London to the one Tipton who she knew particularly wanted to be there for Maddie. From her seat, she looked up at Esteban. He was standing with his jacket collar popped up around his face, so all she could see were his eyes, smoldering and resolute, not seeing those around him, but staring into some other world. London thought she guessed the reason for so intense a focus as Esteban had. His relationship to Maddie had been made clear to London and the others by the confrontation with Ilsa, and she knew Esteban would stop at nothing to defend their wounded comrade. She knew that thought ought to comfort her, but it didn't. She would never say this to his face, but London wondered whether his love for Maddie wouldn't cloud his ability to think straight in battle, and make him act irrationally. She lowered his gaze from him uncomfortably, and reached down to readjust the position of her knife inside one of her silver combat boots - one of the last gifts her father gave her before he died.
Many other Tiptons sat or stood scattered across the railcar. Silently in the corner sat redheaded Irene. Irene never said very much, but she was always there when needed. Gary and Rich were sitting by her, while a curly-headed youth named Lance sat across the aisle, a thoughtful yet slightly vague look on his face, as if he didn't exactly understand what was going on.
But whatever his thoughts were, they were finally brought to a halt when the train itselff dragged to a stop at the south side station. It was time to face the Saints of Boston. And more than one Tipton wondered whther they would meet the saints of heaven before the night was out.
The events that followed that dismebarkment seemed to come in flashes and blurs. Somehow, the Tiptons had emerged from the dark of the underground and up to the dark fate that waited them as they came face to face with their rivals.
::Flash::
Esteban was striding towards Ilsa, his hand reaching to his inside coat pocket. A glimmer of silver and...
::Flash::
Esteban was fighting hand-to-hand with the Saint leader, while around him the rest of the Tiptons were each equally engaged. London and Todd St. Mark, the two orphan heirs, circled round and round each other, both trying to get hits in on the other. A ways off, Zack and Cody were tag-teaming opponents twice their size. Like two hornets badgering a bear, their small size allowed them to dart quickly forward and back, getting quick blows in while their larger opponents, who might have had more sheer power, were not agile enough to get a solid hold on them. Their mother Carey had the edge over a female Saint, for, being slender and agile, she was able to use her height to her advantage, and control the tempo and direction of the fight.
Arwin was hacking away with his mechanic's tools. The swings of his heavy wrench connected with more than one head, the dizzying blows followed by a quick lunge with the long, sharp screwdriver in his other hand.
Patrick used no weapon but his own body. For all his intellectualism, he preferred a solid brawl over tactics and weaponry. A balding Saint lunged at him, but Patrick feinted right then slammed back into him with his left shoulder, knocking him to the ground. He had his enemy pinned, but the Saint was burlier than him, and Patrick was having trouble keeping him down.
Moseby, on the other hand, was almost balletic in his movements. With exceptional grace he could neatly sidestep any who attacked him, and he never even flinched when he attacked others in his turn. His face remained perfectly calm throughout, and he made no excessive movements. This was not to say that he did not feel as passionately as everyone else, only that he had learned to control that passion so as not to waste energy or lose his focus.
::Flash::
Esteban and Ilsa were still battling it out, both bleeding from multiple points, but neither able to gain the upper hand. Todd St. Mark, given his height and size advantage, was naturally was stronger than London, and had started to wear her down just a little. She was limping slightly, but her knife flashed as frequently as ever under the dim orange streetlights.
Ride at night, ride through heaven and hell
::Flash::
The Saint took advantage of Patrick's struggle, and grabbed his arms suddenly to keep him from moving. While Patrick struggled to free himself, the Saint sunk his boot in the redhead's midsection. Patrick doubled over in pain, and was helpless to stop his enemy from flipping him to the ground. As they flipped, the bigger man kept his hold on the Tipton's arm, and as soon as he was upright, the Saint leaned viciously back. A crack rang out, and Patrick's arm fell slack and useless to the ground. Unable to fight back, all he could do was lay there, allowing his adversary to maul him. With each hit, he could feel his life slipping from him, going the way his dreams had years ago. But just before the end, he smiled. His life and his dreams had met up at last.
Moseby looked over in fear and concern at the sight of the first of his Tiptons to go down. It was this concern proved to be his undoing. His opponent took advantage of the one moment Moseby let his guard down, and struck him a thunderous blow to the temple. Moseby staggered but managed to remain upright. He tried to continue the fight, but the blow had disoriented him badly, and the Saint easily struck again. Moseby folded and fell, but his face remained as equable as ever, only perhaps, a little more peaceful. He did not move again.
::Flash::
Without their leader, the Tiptons were on the verge of falling apart. Carey was willing and able to take his place, but the mother side of her kept distracting her from her role as leader. She found herself watching her sons twice as much as she looked out for the others. Sons who, being young and small, and not equal in skill or stamina to the adults they were fighting, were tiring, slowing down in their attacks as well as in their blocks, and receiving more and more hits as a result. When Cody, ever the more delicate of the two, took a hit that lifted him off his feet and sent him sprawling facedown on the ground, Carey forgot all else, becoming in that instant the mother she should have been all along. She ran to them, and stood herself squarely between the large Saint, and Zack, who was shrinking away from his opponent like the scared child he was. He seemed to have lost all his toughness without Cody there to back him up.
"Mom!" he cried, his voice trembling.
"Just stay right behind me, honey, I'll protect you," she said, not taking her eyes off of the advancing enemy.
"No, Mom, it's Cody!" he cried again. Streaks of red were beginning to seep their way through the blonde locks on his brother's unmoving head.
"I think...I think he might be..."
Carey stole one quick glance and saw the frightening condition of her younger son. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she let out a shriek of despair. To the Saint, this was a challenging trumpet, and he lurched towards Carey and Zack. Carey tried to fight back as hard as she could, but she was blinded by tears and weakened by grief. When it looked like all would be lost, Zack's courage returned to him, and he threw himself in front of his mother. They went down together, next to the form of Cody, and all three were still. Carey lay - as she had so often appeared in life - with one arm around each of them.
London saw them go down. She turned to Todd, letting out a scream of horror and rage. She would make him pay for what the Saints did to her friends. What they did to her father. She lunged at him, knife held high, but in the melee he somehow managed to wrest it from her hand. He raised his arm high for the final blow, pausing for a second as if he wasn't entirely brave enough to bring it down. But as London had done, he thought of his father, and what Ilsa had told him - that it was this girl's father who had caused his death. And as London' had, his face screwed up in anger, and he brought the knife passionately.
But in his moment of hesitation, Arwin had managed to clear a path to London, and dove to push her out of the way, taking the blow for her. Arwin Hawkhauser, the quiet, the awkward, the mild, who could barely take care of himself, had become a hero.
London stared at the scene before her in shock. She was weak, wounded, and tired. She had seen her friends fall in battle, fear and irresolution had been trying to get the better of her all night, and this last scene, happening right in front of her face, a scene which was meant for her, was the final blow to her psyche. The terror finally gained control, and it paralyzed her. She could not move, and watched with helpless eyes as Todd turned to face her...
::Flash::
Esteban stood alone, his face contorted with rage and despair. Guns in both his hands were blazing, bullets flying, but barely making a dent in the sinister crowd of Saints advancing slowly towards him...
::Flash::
In her hospital room, Maddie tossed violently in the bed. Her head ached, her face burned, and her throat felt scratchy and dry. The place where the bullet had been throbbed angrily. She felt like she had been shot all over again. Somewhere outside of her room, someone dropped what sounded like the world's supply of glass and metal. There was a terrific crash and the echoes of clangs and shatters seemed to bring the echoes of a terrible truth to her - a truth she had not seen but somehow knew. Esteban was dead. They all were.
Tears instantly flooded her eyes, and she turned to bury her flushed face in the pillow.The Tiptons, the only family she had, were gone. Zack and Cody, Carey, Moseby, Arwin, London, even poor Patrick - she would never see them again. She woud never again have so many people care about her. She would never again have a safe place to run when her life got to be too hard.
And Esteban. She would never again hear his reassuring voice soothing her whenever she felt really low. Never see his mocking smile, the one that always made her cheer up, where he looked as if he knew some funny secret but wouldn't tell her. She would never hear him call her "darlin', " or "bunny rabbit," or any of those hundred silly names he used to call her. And she would never see that rare pensive look he sometimes got in his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking. And most painful of all, she would never again feel his arms around her, or his heart beating so close to hers, a feeling which she barely knew at all. All she would ever have of it now was that one promise on the playground.
The tears fell freely and sobs racked her body until she could barely breathe as she played in her mind all the things she would have live without. Her life up til now had been so full of darkness that she would have been consumed by it if not for Esteban. When everyone else in her life had failed her, he had been her one last candle, keeping the night at bay. But now that her last light had gone out, she could feel the darkness closing in all around her, crushing her, breaking her. Without him, she was lost.
"You just stick with me, little one." She remembered his words from the first day she ever met him. A day when he had found her wandering aimlessly down a dingy back alley, and taken her home to the Tiptons. Ever since then she had never had to go it alone. He had always been there. Echoes of conversation and snatches of his voice played endlessly in her brain.
"Mornin', sunshine..."
"...Let's see a smile, princess..."
"Hey there, bunny rabbit..."
"Sweet dreams, chicky baby..."
"...Made to order just for you, kiddo..."
"...Don't cry, little one."
Maddie shut her eyes tight and clamped her hands over her ears, trying to stop the memories of the way he used to sound. As she lay there miserably, she felt a soft, cool touch on her hot, flushed forehead. Reluctantly she opened her eyes, and saw the image of Esteban gazing down at her.
"What's the matter, baby?" he asked as he brushed her disshevelled bangs out of her eyes.
"So now I'm hallucinating," Maddie whispered to herself. "Or maybe I've died, and this is heaven."
"What are you talking about?" Esteban questioned. "Nobody's died. We're all right here, look and see." He gestured over to where the other core Tiptons stood.
"They're all here...I must be dead," Maddie said, suprisingly less panicked than she thought she would be.
"Hey, hey, listen to me," Esteban said, kneeling beside her. "Nobody died, ok? We got rid of the Saints, and came back here just especially for you. We're all safe and sound, baby. Did you think we'd go off and leave you?"
"But I saw you... I saw the Saints...or at least I thought...what was it I saw then?" asked Maddie, thoroughly confused.
"The nurse said you had pretty high fever. I guess you must've been delirious."
"How do I know that this isn't me being delirious, and what I saw wasn't real?"
"Here," Esteban said as he took her hand and placed it over his heart. "Now you tell me. Could this still be beating if I were without you?"
The pulse Maddie felt under her hand seemed to go all through her, chasing all the shadows from her mind, warming the chill in her soul, lifting a crushing weight from her spirit. The cares she had been carrying her entire life seemed to melt away like snow under the first sunrise of spring. The future he offerred her with that heartbeat was unfolding itself before her in a dazzling display of light. But just as no flowers can grow under clouds, it was future that could not come true in the bleak world of crime and vengeance and violence they lived in. Maddie understood this, and said suddenly,
"Let's get out of this kind of life, Esteban."
"Oh, so you admit that I'm alive now?" he asked, that teasing smile which she loved so much creeping back onto his face.
"I'm serious," Maddie said, though she couldn't help smiling herself. "You promised you'd take me away from this all someday. So let's do it now. As soon as I get out of here, let's get off the streets and start something new. "
"Hey, have you ever known me to break a promise?" he asked. "I'll set it up so you don't have ever have to even lift a finger. And I'm not going to hustle for it either. I'll work however many jobs I have to to make sure you're safe and warm and protected. From here on out it's a better life for us."
"I want to find something better, too." Carey spoke up. "This is no kind of life for my boys. I've realized that tonight. I want to give them more than they can get out here."
"Do you mean it, Mom?" asked her sons "What are we going to do?"
"Well, I used to do some singing when I was younger. You know, perform at cofee shops and stuff. I'm sure I can find somewhere. But as for you two, I'm going to put you back in school." The two had gone when they were younger, but as Carey became more involved with helping Moseby run the Tiptons after Wilfred had died, she had less time to make sure they stayed there, and eventually just began letting them come with her on the streets.
"Yeah!" exclaimed Cody. "I
think I could do well in there if I got another chance."
"I guess maybe I could too,"
Zack said. He had never really enjoyed school when he was in it, but
the spirit of enthusiasm was catching, and now that he thought about
it, he decided that he did want to make something out of his
life eventually.
"Good. You two will do fine there, and I'm going to start being be a better mom. I think together we're going to make it." Carey smiled down at them.
"Maybe I can find my mom someday" London piped in. "Daddy left me a little money - I could hire someone to help me look. Or maybe I don't even need her anymore. With Daddy's money, I could do something to take care of myself. Maybe I could open my own shop - like a boutique or something."
"Well until you do, feel free to work with me at the restaurant I'm going to open," Patrick told her.
"A restaurant?" asked Esteban, smirking good-naturedly. Whatever bad blood had been between him and Patrick had been dissolved since they visited Maddie last, when Patrick had shown, for the first time, his true self. "I would have imagined you in a bookstore or something."
"Oh please. Can you imagine how amazingly dull somewhere like that would be after all the action I've been used to with you people?" Patrick flashed a smile which hardly anyone could remember seeing on his face before. Finally, he was coming to terms with his life, learning to let go of bitterness of the past, and start anew from where he was now.
Inspiration was beginning to spread in the small room. Just as each of the Tiptons had found their reason to fight in Maddie's injury, her hope was now giving them reasons to hope as well.
Even though they knew they would have a long way to go before any of them could actually open their own businesses, they were finally beginning to find some direction for their lives, and were willing to work towards it in any way they could.
"I think for now I'll take that job I saw advertised at the Jiffy Lube. I'd like to work on cars...you know, the legal way," reflected Arwin thoughtfully.
"What about you, Moseby?" Carey asked. Now that the Tiptons were abandoning the street life, what would their leader do, he who had made them his life?
"Well, I've always thought it might be nice to run a hotel," Moseby answered with sly smile.
As her compatriots happily began to discuss their future plans, Maddie felt Esteban slip his hand into hers. Amidst the cheerful chatter of their friends, neither of them needed any words. They simply smiled at each other, and Maddie knew she was home.
Come back, love, and feel so well.
So there it is. The epic conclusion to what has been an epic writing experience, and I hope an epic story. Interestingly enough, I finished this fic one day before the year anniversary of when I published "The Last Place You Look." But before I sign off on this fic, I just want to talk a little bit about my inspirations for it, because music played a big part in writing this story. Obviously, the story is based on the song Southside by Gwen Stefani and Moby. I thought it would be interesting to put the Suite Life characters in the world the song described, where darkness and weapons are part of everyday life, and it's all anyone can do to find a "sunny day." Plus, the many lines addressed to "love" naturally suited my E/M tendencies. The relationship I gave these two in the story was modeled after that of John and Carol in the film American Graffitti, where John, an indifferent tough guy finds an unexpected soft spot for innocent young Carol.
Some other songs I listened to to help inspire me while writing were To the Moon and Back by Savage Garden, Beauty from Pain by Superchick (the "one last candle to keep out the night" line in this chapter was a lyric from this), and Rosario Tijeras by Juanes (which was based on a book of the same name by Jorge Franco, and was referenced in chapter 5.)
And I guess that's all I have to say. So again, there it is. Thanks for sticking with this story all the way to the end, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Until next time, keep up the Maddie/Esteban support just like you always do - with style, devotion, and great elan. ♥
-Aeris Tiniel Mirime
