Big Sister
Chapter 10-Refuse to be Healed
A/N: Thanks for all the fantastic reviews! I'm sad that Rosie's parents died. I'm also sad that my other story, Christin Solomon, may be coming to an end. But on a happier note, this story still has many places to go, and many characters to meet. Please enjoy the chapter.
Rosie's POV
Johnny, Grant, and I had been debriefed. Johnny had to go on a mission that was "classified," and promised to get back to me as soon as possible. So now Grant and I were on a plane to Blackthorne, he was asleep, slumped sideways, his head pressed against my arm. Good thing First Class was roomy. I wanted to fall asleep as easily as he could, just let the horrors of the past days wash away as my mind floated off to Lala land. But I wasn't given that luxury, I was trained to stay awake two weeks without as much as a five minute nap. The flight attendant examined Grant but I glared her down. No one was going to get near my brother without my say so. I pulled out my phone; there were about one million, seven hundred thousand, and two text messages from Christin. She must be really worried about me. But I would see her soon enough, and my world didn't revolve around my thumbs moving to have a short, meaningless conversation with my best friend.
"We will be landing shortly," The pilot informed over the intercom. Grant still didn't stir. I ran my fingers through his hair, trying to get some of the knots out. Sometimes, it was just easier being the big sister, the big sister who wasn't a spy. Grant made a humming sound, like he always did when he began to wake up.
"What's up?" He asked casually as he opened his blue eyes to look around. I gestured out the window to the limitless blue sky, and he nodded in understanding as he sat back up. His back popping in the process, I shook my head, and drank the last gulp of my Mountain Dew.
"Sis?" Grant suddenly turned to face me, his face completely serious.
"What?" I asked, a little bit on edge.
"That Johnny dude isn't going to come between us, is he?" Grant said. I laughed, the first time in . . . a week, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.
"Of course not little bro, of course not, you and me are tight, and nothing, not a boyfriend, or a girlfriend I might add, are going to change that," He laughed with me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders in turn. Bex Baxter, I had met her parents at CIA headquarters in England. They seemed nice enough but they were . . . how do I say it . . . English. Sophisticated to say the least, not big on getting their hands dirty, maybe that was Bex's way of rebelling. My little brother was a country boy born and raised. That thought reminded me of my Cocky Country Boy, somewhere without me. But he was right there in my heart, and I couldn't help but smile at that.
"Please buckle your seatbelts as we prepare to land," The pilot told us. I unwrapped my arm and buckled my seatbelt, Grant doing the same. We were landing in Washington D.C. My truck was waiting patiently outside in the parking lot. Grant gave a whoop of victory and sprinted for shotgun as if he had to compete for it. I smiled crookedly and followed at my own pace. Getting in, we tuned into the local country radio station as we began our drive to Blackthorne. One of Grant's favorite songs came on, and we sang together, something we did often.
Way on down to southern Alabama
With the guitars jammin' that's where we're headed
Straight up to Butte, Montana
Singin' 'Lord, I Was Born a Ramblin' Man'
California to Oregon
Even New York City got one or two hillbillies
Ready to hit the road
It's a brother and a sister kind of thang (We looked at each other and sang more loudly than was required)
Raise up your hands if you all wanna hang
With me and my gang
We live to ride
We ride to live
Me and my gang
Jump on that train
Grab hold of them reins
We're gonna rock this thang, cock this thang
Me and my gang, yeah
Me and my gang
We got hippies, gypsies, freaks and geeks
High class women in Daisy Duke denim
Bangin' on gongs and singin' our songs
Dude named Elrod jammin' on an iPod
Beer and bonfires
Wide open throttle, Coors in a bottle
It's all for one and one for all y'all
It's a brother and a sister kind of thang
Raise up your hands if you all wanna hang
With me and my gang
We live to ride
We ride to live
Me and my gang
Jump on that train
Grab hold of them reins
We're gonna rock this thang, cock this thang
Me and my gang, yeah
Na na, na na na na na, na na, na na na
Na na, na na na na na
Na na, na na na na na, na na, na na na
It's a brother and a sister kind of thang
Raise up your hands if you all wanna hang
With me and my gang
We live to ride
We ride to live
Me and my gang
Jump on that train
Grab hold of them reins
We're gonna rock this thang, cock this thang
Na na, na na na na na, na na, na na na
Na na, na na na na na, na na, na na na
Na na, na na na na na, na na, na na na
Na na, na na na na na, na na, na na na
Yeah, with me and my gang
Jump on that train, woo
Grab hold of them reins, baby
At the end of the song we were singing as loud as we could without sounding like dying cows. When the song ended and another glided on, we laughed, it wasn't a simple laugh, it almost brought tears rolling down my cheeks we were laughing so hard.
"I love you sis," Grant admitted in between spasms of laughter.
"I love you too bro," I smiled and pushed my truck faster. The storm made me feel so safe. The rain was the tears that I would never spill. The thunder was the way my heart pounded when I was being the spy I knew I was meant to be. The lightning was the tearing and healing of my world. But some things would never heal. They were designed to inflict painful scars that would always have bruises surrounded by them. Losing my parents was one of those wounds. It wasn't something that anyone was ever going to be able to fix. Not Christin, not Johnny, and not Grant, because my parents were never coming back, ever. The Blackthorne Institute for Exceptional Young Men came into view and Grant paled visibly, almost to the point where he was as white as a cloud.
"Don't worry Little Brother, I got your back. If you want them to back off, I'll make them back off," My grip tightened on the wheel. Unfortunately, Dr. Steve stood in front of the big mansion doors. I couldn't stand the man. Excellent this . . . and Excellent that . . . how many times can you say excellent in one sentence? Just ask Mr. Excellent right there! I'm also not very pleased that he found out that Grant was the one who poisoned Frank's food after Frank made Grant loose the dodge ball game after slapping Bex's butt. If you haven't noticed, I'm a very competitive person, and the fact that my brother lost a dodge ball game is very important to me. We jumped out of the truck and Dr. Steve opened his arms as if expecting a hug, realizing that we wasn't going to receive one from either of us, he dropped his arms, and appraised us.
"How are you two doing?" He asked like he actually had a right to know what was going on in our lives. I stepped in front of Grant protectively.
"Just peachy," I told him sarcastically but he didn't budge, very, very bad move.
"I would like to speak to Mr. Newman . . . alone," He explained and tried to shift his gaze around me to look at Grant for support. I flexed and rolled my muscles threateningly.
"Look, we've both been through heck the last few days, and I promised him that I would make anybody he didn't want around him back off. So that includes you. Get out of my way before I round house kick you all the way to Antarctica," Dr. Steve stepped hastily out of the way and we headed inside.
"Go to your room, get settled in with your room mates, and find out what's been going on since you've been gone. If you feel too stressed or feel that a conversation is going south, text me, and I'll be there," I gave him a hug with one arm before heading toward Christin's room.
"Thanks sis," I heard him chuckle and walk in the opposite direction. I hadn't even made it around the corner before Christin practically tackled me in a hug.
"I know you're sick of hearing this but I am so, so sorry. I have chocolates, action movies, and gun magazines unlimited, we are going to smother all the bad stuff or I'm not Christin Solomon." My best friend towed me toward her room.
"Which you are," I replied and we both laughed as we flopped down on her bed and started eating Hershey Dark Chocolate bars, and flipped through gun magazines. I flinched when I saw the gun that had killed my parents. The forensics team had given me one of the bullets to analyze, but it was only one glance that I knew everything about it, because duh, I'm a marksman and a sniper. I hadn't realized I had gotten off the bed and now stood five feet away, staring at the picture of my parent's death.
"Rose . . ." Christin gave me a wary look, wondering what I was going to do. That's when I blew up.
"It's not fair! Those were my parents Christin, my parents! They raised me and gave me these skills and I'll never get to see them again! They're never coming back! That stupid mission ruined everything! Grant could've had a chance to really get to know them and have memories and have them punish him for doing normal teenage boy things! That shooter should've shot me first! Grant could've pin pointed him and shot him or done something! He's that damn good! He's my little brother! The little brother I love and fight for! I fight for my country! I fight for my freedom! But I didn't fight for my parent's lives because some sick, twisted person drugged me so I wake up and see blood pouring from my parents! They didn't deserve that Christin! They didn't! I didn't deserve it! Grant especially didn't deserve it! Michael isn't coming back! I'm never going to see my big brother again! The stupid CoC probably killed him! He never did anything to them! He was frigin innocent! I was innocent and so was Grant! But do you know what, so what if this all happened to me? It's not fair to my little brother who will never have a chance to see the spy world as exciting and adrenaline filled, but as a place with blood and pain! What am I setting him up for? How is that ever going to be fair to him? It's my entire fault Christin! As my punishment on myself, I will never let myself heal from this pain, I refused to be healed and forget!" My steam finally burnt out as I went down on to my knees, trying to catch my breath after screaming for so long and so loud, good thing her room was sound proof.
A/N: I never thought I would actually let Rosie loose control like that, just let it all out. Wow. Here's my challenge to anyone who is willing to take it, count how many exclamation points there were when Rosie was yelling. If you count them all, I will PM you, and let you pick whose POV will be for the next chapter. Be warned, it's the first person who gets it right who gets to choose. Review Please!