The fire in blazed from the stone fireplace as I sat in the Rowdy Ruff Boy's cabin. A thick blanket was wrapped around me like a cocoon and I was cross-legged on a bed I assumed belonged to Butch.
I watched with slight amazement as the three boys interacted. I'd never been around boys much, except for the professor, and the differences between them and girls were amazing from the plainly decorated cabin to the way they had to hit each other whenever they were in reach. I just sat, overly warm, and watched.
I had woken up to hear the three of them talking in low voices about something but they hadn't said much to me since Brick had placed the baby in an old crib in the corner but no one had felt the need to explain to me what a baby was doing was doing there. Not that I minded though. I was feeling slightly off-key to be in their without getting attacked and I wasn't expecting any explanations.
"No Boomer, you missed one by the door," Brick said in an aggravated voice. I looked on as Boomer walked towards the door (that was set up against the frame due to the fact that I had knocked it off its hinges) and bent down to retrieve a jack-in-the-box.
So that's what I had tripped over. I almost laughed at my own stupidity.
"What's his name?" I asked. They all turned to me as if just remembering I was there before exchanging looks. "It is a he right?" I asked quickly, only assuming so due to the blue clothes he was dressed in.
"His name is Joe," Brick said after a second. He looked slightly upset to have divulged such information but I was glad he told me at least that.
"He's adorable," I tried again, wanting desperately to be on equal footing with these three. Boomer smiled at that and even Brick seemed pleased to hear so. Butch however, didn't seem to be paying much attention to our conversation. He stared darkly into the fireplace, watching the flames dance wildly.
"He's not so adorable when he keeps you up all night crying," Boomer said before dodging a punch from Brick who glared moodily at him.
'I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night.'
Had this been the reason he had been in a bad mood? Had he been taking care of a crying baby all night? I looked quickly over at Butch's form, his body illuminated by the glow of the fire. His shoulders looked tense and he continued to stare into the flames. I wondered if he was purposefully avoiding the conversation. Or maybe he was purposefully avoiding me.
I got nervous at that thought. Was he mad at me for coming into the cabin when he had made it obvious before that he hadn't wanted me there? Was he mad I had seen the baby? Was that something he didn't think I deserved to know?
"Butch?" I asked before I could stop myself. My voice seemed to silence the cabin and I instantly wished I had kept quiet. I felt Brick and Boomer watching and cringed.
"We have to go get more firewood," Brick said suddenly before roughly grabbing Boomer's shirt collar and dragging him out the broken door. Brick sent Butch a look that he didn't catch due to the fact that he still wasn't paying attention, then they leaned the slab of wood back in place and were gone.
The fire crackled with heat and an owl called out from somewhere in the woods. Crickets chirped at an insanely loud pitch and I tried to focus in on the sound instead of the silence of the room around me.
I wanted to ask if he was mad, but then it'd seem like I cared and I couldn't risk that. I didn't want him to think I cared what he thought, especially if he wasn't concerned at all with what I thought.
I yawned despite myself and realized I was extremely worn out.
"Tired?" Came his deep voice and I jumped slightly.
"Oh, yes," I replied and it grew quiet again.
"Explain to me what happened tonight, and don't leave a thing out," He said lowly and I shivered despite the heat of the cabin and the warmth of my cotton cocoon.
"I was supposed to go to the dance but instead I…" I trialed off, not wanting to go further. What could I say? I went off with my boyfriend (whom you forbade me to see) to make out with him (in order to stop liking you) and he ended up crossing the line (which is stupid because he is my boyfriend) and I jumped out of the car and came to your cabin (which you didn't want me to do). Yeah, that's what I'd say.
"Instead you what?" I looked up to see him looking at me now, his face shadowed and the blaze from the fire behind him. I didn't answer and he sighed. "How am I supposed to make it better if you don't tell me what went wrong?"
I felt my eyes widen. "I'm not asking you to make anything better," I said quickly. "And nothing went wrong, everything was fine. I just got lost in the woods."
"That doesn't explain the reason you broke down my door or passed out," He said slowly and evenly, his voice seemed to be holding back a strong emotion and I shivered at the thought of him yelling at me. I just might pee myself.
"I'm…I'm afraid of the dark, okay?" I said a bit moodily. He seemed a bit amused by this confession and I felt my temper flare. "It's not funny I could've died!"
That seemed to be the wrong choice of words because the next thing I knew I was flat against his bed. The mattress sunk in where his hands were pushing my shoulders down and his knees pushed against my hips. I was still wrapped tight in a blanket and felt extremely vulnerable.
"Tell. Me. What. Happened." He said slowly and a part of me was enthralled by the dark and demanding tone of his voice. His eyes were almost black they so shady and they danced with barely restrained furry. Despite the liveliness of his eyes his face remained stoic.
"I don't want to," I mumbled pathetically. His eyes narrowed at this and I had to look away. I focused my gaze on the far wall and sighed, still nervous under the heat of his gaze. "I don't want you to get mad at me."
A heartbeat passed and his firm grip on my shoulders went lax. He leaned back on his knees, still overtop of me but no longer looming. I turned to meet his eyes again and was spellbound as I watched them soften.
. "I might get mad but it won't be at you, I swear." He looked away this time and I watched as the light from the fire revealed his tan cheeks darkened by a slight blush that I almost missed.
My chest tightened slightly. Um. Okay.
"It's just…I just got scared, okay?" I said miserably, knowing how pathetic I sounded. True fighters didn't get scared of the dark.
"There's no reason to be afraid of the dark," He said, and I was relieved at the fact that he had let himself get distracted from the main topic. I didn't want to explain everything. His eyes looked back at me and any signs of embarrassment were gone.
I sat up awkwardly in the tight fabric. He shifted to sit next to me and I was relieved by our new position. It was much easier to concentrate this way.
"So they say," I said sarcastically before sighing. "I guess I'm not so much afraid of the dark as I'm afraid of what might be in it. I mean, there could be monster, evil villains, vampires…"
"Vampires?" He said with a bit of hilarity and I grinned.
"Yeah, vampires. I've seen glue monsters, trust me, I don't doubt that anything's possible." I replied and we sat in silence for a second.
"You aren't going to tell me what happed are you?" He guessed. I shook my head quickly and he sighed. "Are you feeling better?"
I went to reply when a soft gurgle came from the crib. I turned to look at the sleeping baby and a million questions plagued my mind. Butch must have expected this because when I turned back to look at him his face was already pensive looking.
"You want me to tell you everything." It was a statement, not a question.
"I want you to, but I don't expect you to," I answered honestly. His eyes left mine for a second to glance at the old crib. He looked back at me and his eyes looked brighter.
"We didn't kidnap him, if that's what you're thinking," He said defensively. I said nothing and he continued. "He's Brick's son…he's about three months old now. We've been helping take care of him since he was born."
"What about the mom?" I asked, not really wanting to believe that a delinquent teen could raise a child with only his brothers' help.
"She's around," He said and I knew I wouldn't get too much information from this discussion. He could be so difficult sometimes. So stubborn.
"Do she and Brick love each other?" I asked, trying to get more. He looked a little uncomfortable with the question and his fingers tapped continuously against his jean clad leg.
"Yeah, they do," He said after a while. "It just can't…it couldn't work out. He's a Rowdy Ruff Boy and she's a good person. She wants him there…but I don't think he want her to have to face the scandal of it all by herself."
"But she wouldn't be by herself. She'd have him," I said reasonably, already caught up in the tale.
"Sometimes that's not enough," Butch said easily and I felt my mood dampen. "He can't be around all the time."
It grew quiet again and I watched the way his eyes darkened as he stared off into space. Maybe I shouldn't have pried. The whole subject of his brothers seemed to be a complicated one and I wasn't sure how much he was willing to tell me. The sheer mystery of them had me wanting to know more but the sad truth was that this wasn't a book or a movie. These were actual people and they had to live their lives this way.
"It must be hard to have so many people not like you," I tried but he didn't turn to look at me and I was slightly upset to have lost his attention. "I mean, it doesn't seem fair that she can't even tell people who the dad is."
"It doesn't?" He said with a short laugh. "It seems pretty fair to me. She knew exactly who she was before it happened. Besides, we chose this remember?"
"But one choice you three made shouldn't condemn everyone you're close to into being secretive," I said with a bit of passion. "Just because you've made bad choices doesn't mean the people you're around have made bad choices too."
"That's exactly what it means," This time his frustration seeped into his tone. "People who chose to be around us are making a bad choice. It's safer for them to cut the ties and be done with us, can't you see that? Nothing good can come from being around any of us. That's why Brick won't let her be seen around him."
"But you let me be seen around you." I reminded him.
"That' because I'm selfish," He said and I blinked when I processed the words. Selfish? Weren't all thieves were selfish?
"A life of crime and danger is no way for that baby to grow up," I said and my self-righteous passion was back. "If you three just quiet being the Rowdy Ruff Boys everything would be okay! Can't you understand that? No one would have to hide anymore."
"You're right; there'd be no place to hide in jail," He bit off sarcastically and I wanted to smack him (but luckily knew better) for being so self-centered.
"Yeah you'd have to go to jail for a while but once you're out Brick would be able to take care of his baby without worrying about the police dragging him away." I reasoned. "It'd be worth it."
"The three of us do nothing important without us all agreeing on it first. We do what's good for each other, because that's what families do. Sending each other to jail and leaving that baby with a single working mom isn't good for the family," He countered.
"Sorry, stupid idea," I muttered.
"It wasn't stupid, just not a logical option at the moment," He said and I felt slightly better but not much. There had to be a way. All people made mistakes, there had to be a way to fix them.
Wait. "Did you say you did 'nothing' without each approving first?" I asked and he didn't answer. "So you're saying your brothers knew we were training the whole time!"
He laughed now and I forced myself to ignore the addicting sound and stay angry. "Well they didn't seem too shocked to see you, did they?" He asked and I could've strangled him.
"That means both your brothers knew and I didn't even tell Buttercup until about a week ago," I said miserably. How could a thief be more honest then me?
"It's easier to accept each other's secrets when there aren't really any standards," He said dryly and I realized the truth it that. I mean, how could you be mad at your sibling for stealing your shirt when they just robbed a bank? But still, Butch was conspiring with the enemy. Wasn't that a bit much for even them to except?
My eyes moved to the sleeping baby in the crib, his brown/red hair thin and curly on top of his pale head. He had dark lashes and a small frame that was covered in dark cotton clothes.
Maybe the Rowdy Ruff Boys were more excepting then I first thought. Maybe they looked out for each others in an even deeper way then most families. I mean, not most evil criminals would stay up all night taking care of their brother's baby.
"I think you're a good person," I said before I even realized I had thought so. This statement seemed to shock Butch and his eyes snapped to my form and I blushed.
"I think you should go home," He said and I felt as if something shattered throughout my body and the feeling of rejection stung at my eyes and tightened my throat. "Call Buttercup and tell her to come pick you up."
"Oh…okay," I said and I stood up to retrieve my purse that had slid to the middle of the floor when I fell. I shivered when the heat from the blanket left me and I was aware of Butch's eyes on my form.
I looked mournfully at my broken heels (another pair of shoes I couldn't wear) before picking up my bag. I yawned slightly before I unzipped it. I froze at the sight.
"What is it?" Butch asked and I realized he was right by me, his shoulder touching mine and looking down into my bag.
"My cell phone is gone…and so is my house key," I said with a bit of panic. "That makes no sense, where could they be? They were definitely in my purse when I left my house and I hadn't been anywhere else except…"
"Except where?" His voice was calmer then my own but it wouldn't be that way for long I assumed.
"Except for Dayton's car," I said softly and looked up at his face. His look said that it was clearly where he had expected I had been, but his eyes were unimaginatively livid.
"Do you think he stole it?" He asked and I swallowed and shook my head.
"That makes no sense," I said with a soft sigh. "Why would he have done that?" When would he have done that?
Butch didn't answer my questions; instead he walked over to his bed and picked up his leather jacket he had thrown across the bottom. He came over and thrust it towards me. I caught the heavy leather without thinking.
"Put that on, I'll take you home," He said and I watched him stare at me. "I'm serious, beautiful. Put the jacket on."
I put the warm material on and wrapped it close to me. The bottom of the jacket almost overlapped the end of my dress and I blushed shamefully at this. At least I'd be warm.
I wondered where my self-will had went. Since when did I just obey criminals without question?
"And when you get home you're burning that dress," He said.
"I'd like to see you make me!" I snapped. Ah, there it is.
"Fine, I'll do it for you," He said arrogantly.
"There is nothing wrong with this dress!"
"There's nothing to that dress! You're practically bare!" At last his temper seemed to flare as well.
"What I wear is none of your concern! It's your issue for caring!"
"My concern is the fact that I'm going to have to pound every other ass-hole who notices into the ground!"
"Ugh! Do you have to be so violent?!" I shouted.
"Do you have to be so naïve?!"
And so it went for the rest of the flight home.
And the amazing part was:
I didn't even notice the dark. I wasn't even bothered by it.
-----
I flew through my window, trying my hardest not to make a sound. The whole house was dark except for the nightlight in our room and I was grateful that my sisters had remembered to turn it on. The sounds of their breathing filled the air and I made sure they were both still asleep.
I slipped off Buttercup's dress but didn't bother to hang it up. I grabbed a large t-shirt off the floor, not even caring who's it was, and pulled it over my head. My hair, to my horror, was a rat's nest. It was tangled and knotted and too much of a hassle to do anything with so I just pulled it up into a messy bun.
Jaclyn was curled up in the center of my bed and I smiled slightly at her small form. But instead of crawling in next to her I picked her up. She blinked tiredly at me before falling almost immediately back to sleep against my shoulder.
I walked over to Blossom's bed and crawled into it next to her. She shifted slightly to accommodate me and I placed Jaclyn in between us. I was tired but still slightly off-center from the night's events. The familiarity of sleeping close to my sisters reminded me of when I was younger and always made me feel safer and more at home. I needed that familiarity again. Especially now that I felt everything was changing.
"You're back late," Blossom whispered tiredly, not even bothering to open her eyes.
"I know, I'm sorry," I said and she was too out of it to question me.
"You smell different," She said before snuggling Jaclyn against her stomach and falling back asleep. Her breathing went back to a slow pace and her body went slack against the bed.
I pulled my hair to my nose to take a sniff. Sure enough, I did smell different.
The growingly familiar smell that could only be associated with Butch filled my senses. It was woodsy and fresh. I could smell the cheap bar soap he must use and the defining musky scent that set each male apart. There were no hints of expensive cologne or posh shampoo. It smelled so natural.
The scent sent my stomach flipping and my head felt light again. I smiled unconsciously before closing my eyes to sleep as well.
I liked the scent and I shockingly didn't mind smelling like it.
What bothered me though was that the smell was noticeably more comforting then even my sister's close proximity was. And strangely, I was beginning to realize why.
------
"Do you always take this long to get ready?" Butch asked as he sat on my bed. I tried not to focus too much on his embarrassing location and quickly threw him a glare.
"Is there something you're waiting to tell me?" I fired back, knowing fully well that he had had no reason for dropping in. He had showed up about ten minutes earlier, scaring me to death, and had made himself comfortable on my bed. "You're just lucky no one's home."
He chose to say nothing and instead watched me as I flipped my hair over and continued to blow-dry it. The golden strands were illuminated by the late morning sun as I tried to remain calm under his watchful eyes. Did he have to be on my bed?
"There, I'm done!" I said perkily and smiled at him. He smirked at me as well and all seemed to be okay. I was happy. He seemed happy. Everything was alright.
"Finally," He muttered under his breath but I caught it and stuck my tongue out at him. His eyes darkened slightly and I resisted the urge to shiver. "Come here."
I smiled and nodded my head. I walked to over to my occupied bed and sat nervously on the edge, not quite sure what to do. I tried to busy myself by messing with the ends of my shorts but I could still feel him staring and a blush fought to cover my cheeks.
"Did you find your cell?" He asked.
"No, I'll ask Dayton on Monday if I left it in his car," I said with a small smile. I could tell he still wanted to know what happened but I couldn't stand the amount of embarrassment that story would cause me. So I'd just have to ignore his dark, questioning looks for now. Besides, I could handle myself.
Suddenly his arms came around my stomach and I tensed. He pulled my slowly towards him until my back was against his chest. His scent surrounded me, taking over my brain and making my body heat up. I felt his breathing somewhere near my ear and I swallowed heavily.
"Did you sleep well last night?" I asked, knowing fully well how high-pitched and nervous my voice sounded. I was glad to be facing away from him when my cheeks went red.
"No," He said and I felt his chest vibrate when he talked. I fought the urge to close my eyes and lean back against him, knowing that that would be a very bad thing to do. "I couldn't sleep at all."
"Why not?" I asked out of desperation for something to say. Something to distract me from the nearness of him. Besides when we fought we hadn't been this close since…since he'd kissed me.
"My whole bed smelled like you," He said and I felt him kiss the outer edge of my ear. I would almost call the move gentle if not for the almost iron grip around my stomach. Did he think I was going to disappear or something?
"Do I smell bad?" I asked, ignoring the second kiss he placed on my earlobe. It barely touched my skin and yet goose bumps rose over my entire body.
"Hardly," He said before his mouth was against my temple. This time I couldn't talk and I did close my eyes. I hoped he couldn't feel how fast my heart was beating as easily as I could feel the steady beat of his.
I wondered, for a brief second, if this was right. But I knew it wasn't. I also knew that I didn't care. I didn't mind not knowing what to call us, I didn't mind the fact that he said he didn't like me, and I hardly thought of what would happen if someone saw us in this position. Partly because his smell and mouth made it hard to think, but also because for once I didn't need a label, and I knew he at least cared about me, and I would just have to handle everyone else when the time came.
And it was becoming painstakingly obvious that I felt something for him. Like, love, lust, admiration? I wasn't sure which one. All I was sure of was for once in my life I wasn't questioning things. I wasn't worrying about being wrong or right. Sometimes things aren't always black and white. I was beginning to see that now. And it terrified me and excited me and confused me all at once.
I snapped back to myself when I felt him kiss my jaw, his teeth coming into play and raking across my skin. I was completely out of my league and had no idea what to do or say. I felt him nip again at another spot on my jaw and I tensed up further.
"Relax," He laughed and the sound of his mirth made my head feel giddy. He pulled me tighter (if that was possible) against him and I felt at any second I would become apart of him and be molded into his chest.
"I'm trying to but you keep distracting me," I complained and was rewarded with another small laugh. Yes, I was very much addicted to that sound. Another kiss landed on my neck.
He pulled away suddenly, his face no longer by my own, and I opened my eyes quickly.
"Is something burning?" He asked as I felt him inhale behind me.
"Oh no! The cookies!" I said quickly before ripping myself from his hold and launching myself off the bed. I was in the kitchen in record amount of time and I could hear his amused chuckle from my bedroom.
-----
"Are you sure they're alright?" I asked for what was probably the twentieth time. I shifted the plate of slightly burnt sugar-cookies in my hands while dodging a hurried nurse coming at me in the hall.
"They're fine," Butch said but he didn't sound annoyed to have to assure me again. "He'll probably be so happy to have a break from the food here that he won't even notice that they're burnt." He said easily.
"You think so?"
"No. He may be blind but I have a feeling his taste buds still work," He said and I had a feeling he enjoyed the glare I sent his way. "Chill doll-face, I'm kidding. Nothing can be worse then hospital food."
I sent him an untrusting look before sighing. "How would you know?"
"Joe wasn't born in a supermarket," He said by means of explanation but I couldn't picture the Rowdy Ruff Boys pacing the hospital lobby while Joe was being born. The hospital staff must've had a fit.
Speaking of hospital staff, the nurse leading us to Mr. Burick's room kept sending us searching looks, trying to identify where she'd seen us before. I hoped she didn't realize anytime soon. I didn't feel like getting thrown out of the hospital because of my choice in company.
"Here you are," She said, not bothering to cover up the curiosity in her voice. I smiled widely at her before turning into the bright room.
Mr. Burick was on his bed, just like we'd last seen him, staring off into space. His face looked thoughtful but his shoulders seemed slumped.
"Hello, Mr. Burick?" I said hesitantly. I looked down at the singed cookies, slightly glad he couldn't see how bad they looked.
"Is that you angel?" He asked and I smiled warmly. His head turned in my direction and I swore his clouded eyes danced. "Paying an old man another visit?"
"Yes, I hope you don't mind. We'll leave if your too tired," I said quickly, the sterile smell of the room making my head ache and the constant hum of machinery ringing in my ears.
"No, no. I don't mind at all. Please, come sit down," He said with a small smile. "I'd pull up a chair for you but the nurse forbids me to get up from the bed. I'm not sure what she looks like but she sure sounds scary."
I smiled at that and felt the pressure of a chair against the back of my legs. I sat down and scooted closer to the bed. Butch sat in his chair but stayed at a distance, eyeing the IV and heart monitor dubiously.
"How are you today, son?" Mr. Burick asked and I watch with trepidation as Butch looked at the old man, silently begging him to be polite this time.
"I'm alive," Butch said but his tone was light. "For now at least."
"Ah, that's your way, huh?" The man asked, another smile tugging at his lips. "Live each day as it comes and don't worry about the future or the past, am I right?"
"There's no way you can change the past or prevent the future so I don't see much reason in worrying about either of them," Butch replied and I was annoyed at how logic he made being a pessimist sound.
"You can change the future," I said with determination. Butch's eyes met mine but his look wasn't patronizing. He actually looked relaxed except for his thumb tapping against his thigh.
"How?" He asked and I stared into the forest green orbs that practically glowed in the fluorescent lights of the hospital room. "What ever you do in the present creates your future. So you aren't changing anything, you're just making it happen."
Ugh. I hated logic.
I heard soft laughter from the bed and I turned my eyes to the laughing patient. He grinned into space, his eyes focused somewhere between both Butch and I.
"What do you think, Mr. Burick?" I asked.
"I think the future always has a way of surprising us, even though we're the ones who made it the way it is in the first place," The old man replied and I fought back a sigh. Was everyone a philosopher today and I just happened to miss the memo?
"I guess so," I said while starring at my lap. That's when I remembered something. "Oh yeah! I brought you something, Mr. Burick! Here it is!" I said happily.
"Ah, Angel, you spoil me," The old man smiled and I smiled too. "But please, call me John. That's my name."
I didn't mention the fact that he didn't call me by my name but I didn't really mind. Instead I grabbed a cookie and placed it into his outstretched hand. I hoped they weren't too burnt.
"Where'd you get that tattoo old man?" Butch's voice asked and I threw him a confused look. Quickly I turned back and sure enough, the old, worn hand holding my cookie sported a faded tattoo. It looked like one hand holding a heart and another hand holding a dagger.
"Oh, this old thing?" The man laughed. "Long story, son."
"Care to shorten it for us?" Butch asked and I smacked his arm. He tossed me a look that clearly said 'not now' but I continued to fume. What was his issue?!
"I'm sorry Mr. Buri-John," I fumbled slightly. "I don't know why Butch is being so rude, he's not normally…well he is normally like this but that's no excuse." The old man smiled but his gaze was still in the general direction of Butch, almost looking directly at him.
"Hush now, dear. I'm trying to figure something out," Butch said almost sarcastically while staring at the tattoo on Mr. John's hand. His gaze looked reproachful but I didn't care. His tone was grating on my nerves and I wasn't in the mood for him to disrespect a poor old man.
"No, I will not 'hush'! You're-" I began, my anger leaking out in my tone.
"It's okay Angel," Mr. John (Burick) said softly and I stared at him and let out an annoyed noise. "I think your boy isn't being rude so much as he's just making sure everything is legit."
I frowned and looked at Butch's profile. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were staring at the tattoo, tracing the markings. I wanted to ask what was going on but the silence in the room had me holding my breath.
"That tattoo…it's a Circolo Famigliare mark, isn't it?" Butch asked and the Italian words rolled of his tongue with a small amount of resentment. The name sounded familiar but I couldn't place it.
"Ah, so I'm right, aren't I?" Mr. Burick asked, his mouth still smiling and his tone still light. "You're a ragazzaccio,no? A bad boy? You must tread down the same destructive path I did when I was your age." He said, and I noticed for the first time a soft Italian accent in his voice I was almost positive hadn't there before.
"No," Butch said and his voice was tight. "We're completely different. You're gang" He spat the word. "And my brothers are nothing alike."
Whoa, wait! Gang?
"A broken law is a broken law, son. It doesn't matter to the court which law you brake as long as they can throw you in jail," Mr. Burick said and his tone was soft.
"Um, care to explain what happening?" I asked, slightly annoyed. Something was going way over my head and I didn't like that feeling.
"Mr. Burick here is a member of one of Townsville's most notorious gangs," Butch said, his eyes never leaving the old man in the bed. "They're mostly known for their drugs and brutal tactics of getting their money by any means necessary."
"I haven't heard of them," I said, looking wide-eyed at the old man in the bed.
"It's very…discrete," Mr. Burick said with a sigh. "You only know of it if you've been an illicit citizen. I don't like mentioning it, even though I'm not a member of it anymore…I haven't been for a while now." The old man said and his tone had grown slightly sad.
"But you were?" I asked in astonishment. My eyes looked at the brand on his hand, the heart and the dagger, and I felt my mind try and absorb all the information.
"Yes, my angelo custode," The old man sighed. "My real name is John Rousseau. I was born in the south-side part of Townville. My family had no money and we had no way to get food. Once my father died I had to find a way to make money. There was a group of men who loaned money. They weren't a bank and they turned no one down…so I took their money. I was young, maybe eight, and I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
But a few months after I got the money they started asking for their reimbursement. I couldn't meet their cost so to keep from getting hurt I began working for them. I did shipments and ran errands. The older I got the more illegal my jobs were until there was no way I could leave. I had to join, it was the only way."
"So you're a…a…a whatever it's called?" I asked in confusion. This man couldn't have been a gang member. It wasn't possible.
"No," He said and this time his tone was flat and low. "No, I left them. You see…I fell in love. With Jaclyn. She was all I ever wanted but she was too good for me and I knew it. But still I couldn't leave her. I was selfish. I promised her I'd do anything for her and she said she'd marry me, but only if I left the Circolo Famigliare."
"But you couldn't leave, could you?" Butch asked and he sounded…sympathetic. "It wasn't as easy as you thought."
"No, I was young and reckless. I thought they'd just let me go, despite everything I knew about them and all the things I'd done. I was married for year before they started making threats. I had no choice, I had to pay. My wife and I…we were in constant debt. She never complained but I knew she didn't deserve it. She deserved the best."
"What happened?" I asked, although I had a sick feeling I already knew.
"About ten years ago they made an outrageous demand. More money, that's all they ever wanted." Mr. Rousseau said and this time his voice was distant and his eyes stared unseeingly at the wall in front of him. "I told them no. I was sick of it all and I wanted to show Jaclyn that I could support her. I just wanted to make her happy…"
"They killed her didn't they?" I asked and my voice was pained. A silence gripped the room and we all sat there. I wanted to cry for the old man. I wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault. Everyone makes mistakes.
"I don't think I ever got over the sight of her lying there, lifeless yet still beautiful," His voice came again and he sounded older, more worn out. "I dreamt of the sight every night. They figured out what plagued me…and they made me blind just to spite me. Now it's all I can picture. I don't see blackness, I see her."
I felt hot tears rolling down my face before I could stop them and I knew Butch was watching me but I couldn't bring myself to look back at him. I just stared down at my burnt tray of cookies, feeling miserable.
"I'm so sorry," Was all I could get out before my throat tightened and a strangled breath escaped my lips.
"No Angel, there's no need for tears," He said and he smiled sadly. "Like your boy said, we can't change the past, so why worry about it?"
I tried to talk but nothing came out. I was aware of Butch standing up and waiting for me but I didn't move. I couldn't leave this man. I didn't care what he'd done.
"Bubbles, come on. I think it's time for us to leave." Butch's voice came from my side and I just shook my head slowly.
"I'll catch up," I said with a poor attempt of a smile. He didn't move though and only continued to watch me.
"Go ahead son," Mr. John said and I listened as Butch left the room, knowing he wouldn't go too far.
It was quiet for a while and I couldn't bring myself to talk. I felt horrible. I spent my whole life trying to protect people and keep bad things from happening…but I couldn't do it. I couldn't save them all.
I couldn't do anything.
"These are wonderful," The old man's voice said and I looked up to see him holding a half eaten cookie. He took another bite.
"I burnt them," I said miserably.
"To err is human," He said lightly.
'To forgive divine,' I finished silently as I raised my eyes to watch him. He looked older now. Sadder and more tired. "I think your wife would've forgiven you," I said and he stopped chewing for a minute.
"I don't think I'd deserve it. Forgiveness his rare for me," He said after a while, a sad smile spreading on his face. "Besides…I couldn't protect her. I wasn't strong enough."
"I'm not strong enough either," I admitted, fiddling with my hands on my lap.
"Sometimes being the strongest person doesn't mean being best fighter," He said as the sun form the window glinted off his white hair and he reached for another cookie. I handed him one quickly. "Sometimes being the strongest person means being the one who cares the most."
I watched him take another bite of a burnt cookie, his smile back in place.
"Now leave before that boy out there gets himself into any trouble," He said and I smiled at him.
"Thank you…John." I said before setting the plate of cookies on a nearby table so he could reach them if he was desperate. I walked to the door but paused. "If it means anything, I want you to know that I forgive you…for everything you've ever done."
He laughed softly. "Angel, to me, that means the world.
---
"Is it covered yet?" I asked, feeling fidgety as I sat immobile on a hard kitchen chair. The table top was littered with skin-tone make-up, some spilling onto the surface.
"I don't know how to work this stuff!" Buttercup said with mounting frustration. She rubbed a cold pale color against my jaw line and neck and I fought the urge to squirm. She sighed with irritation. "God Bubbles, what did he do?"
I blushed horribly before making harsh 'shushing' noises. "Quiet, someone might hear you," I said quickly, trying to ignore my embarrassment.
Buttercup snorted at that. "Blossom's at play practice and the Professor's down in his lab." She reminded me. She stepped back away from me and admired her work. "There, done!"
I picked up a small mirror and held it so I could have a good view of my neck. The small marks on my neck were now covered by a good amount of foundation and the knot and my stomach began to ease away.
"Next time Butch decides to mark you, tell him to do it somewhere other people won't see," She said sarcastically before gathering all the bottles into a large pile.
I blushed furiously and groaned. "Butch did not mark me," I bit off, ignoring the heat in my cheeks. "And you better not tell anyone about this."
She snickered evilly before turning with her arms full and flying up the steps. I looked back in the mirror, making sure nothing had come off. I had almost died when Buttercup had pointed out the small marks. I didn't remember where they had come from but Buttercup knew instantly.
'Those look like teeth marks,' She had said with no restraint in her laughter. The idea that Butch had left these brands on the side of my jaw and neck from the short moment on my bed scared me. What scared me even more was that I hadn't even noticed them and had gone in public!
Oh I was going to kill him! I don't know how, but it was going to happen.
"Girls!" The Professor yelled and I snapped from my daydream quickly and jumped from the kitchen chair. "Girls!"
"What is it Professor?" I asked quickly and in a flash Buttercup was beside me.
"I think someone broke into my lab!" He said and panted from his run up the basement stairs.
I looked wide-eyed at him and then turned to look at Buttercup. She seemed to maul over something in her mind for a moment, debating on something, then she sighed.
"Alright, Bubbles call Blossom," She said with a determined grin. "Don't worry Professor, we'll find out who did it."
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Okay, I hope you like it.
I cut back on the cussing, sorry if I had put too much in. Sometimes I forget the rating when I'm trying to keep them in character.
Please review and tell me what you think.