Title: Crimson's Child

Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine

Rating: M

Summary: see chapter one

Warnings: see chapter one

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. Any and all unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not to be used without my permission. I am not making any money off of this and I write with the solely to entertain.

A/N: Would you believe that I had forgotten about this fic? dodges sharp objects I'm serious! I was going through my files and it was one of those dawning moments of : "…Holy shit!"

"Why are you always here?"

Tiredly raising his head from where he had been resting it on folded arms, he squinted up at his sister who had been quietly playing with a broken doll further down in the hall. Said doll, which she had found in the dump, now lay neglected on the old carpet.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully, resting his chin back on his arms.

"Who said you could stay here?"

"No one."

At the age of seven, Veronika was the second-youngest child in the house next to him. This did not mean that the two of them got along, The rest didn't like her either since she was rather pushy. What little interaction between them was usually her questioning his presence or appearance; whereas everyone in the family had dull and ordinary features, his bright hair and eyes and light skin made him the figurative black sheep, which was saying a lot considering the rest.

Veronika must have been very bored because she seated herself against the opposite wall, her thin legs stretched out on the floor, her toes almost making contact with his crossed legs. Watching her feet as she wiggled them for a while, she peered through dirty-blond bangs at him.

"Then why don't you go away?"

"I don't have anywhere else to go," he said solemnly, picking at a loose thread on his ruffled jeans.

She was silent for a moment.

"I don't like you."

"Why?"

"You're different."

Different?

"What's different about me?"

"Everything. You don't belong here. You should leave us alone."

He said nothing, staring despondently at his feet.

A minute or so passed by before she got to her feet, adjusting her loose dress that was too big for her skinny frame. Finding renewed interest in the doll, she walked over and picked it up, running a finger over its dirty face.

"I don't like you," she repeated over her shoulder while playing with a matted braid. "Mama always talks to you. Mama always looks at you. She doesn't talk to me…I WANT HER TO TALK TO ME!"

The doll's already cracked plastic face shattered against the wall, leaving the body to fall limply to the ground amidst shards of plastic.

"I hate this place! I hate it here! I hate it! I HATE IT!"

He didn't move, merely watching as she started to stomp on the toy's remains with her bare feet. Sharp edges cut the sole and she cried out in pain, falling back to grab her slightly bleeding foot.

"Mama! MAMA!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

While Veronika was too distraught to care, he certainly did, hugging himself tightly when Fritz's dark head appeared coming up the stairs. He must have just returned from work since he was still wearing an oily mechanic's jumper and a tired scowl. Reaching the top, he looked down at the little girl who was still weeping on the floor.

"What the hell did you do to yourself this time?"

"I want mama!"

"She's downstairs, you whiner."

"I hate him! Mama doesn't talk to me!"

Fritz hadn't been all that interested in his little sister's turmoil to begin with; catching sight of the redhead she was referring to made him not care at all. Stepping over her, the teen walked over until he stood directly before him.

Trying hard not to meet his brother's eyes, he watched as Veronika rolled over onto her stomach, looking up with tear-filled eyes. What she saw made her scream.

"NO ONE TALKS TO ME! I HATE YOU!"

Fritz ignored her easily, kneeling down to get a closer look at him. Greasy fingers stroked his cheek, leaving a wet trail. The brown eyes stared deep into his as the older male continued to touch his face, fingers occasionally caressing his neck and throat. He seemed to be thinking.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE THIS PLACE!"

Rapid footsteps sounded as the girl got to her feet, screaming and crying angrily. He felt a sudden wave of panic as she ran towards him, tears streaking her face. A frail hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of red hair which she then began tugging and yanking with all her might. Crying out, he grabbed her wrist, trying to make her let go but she refused, growling madly as she savagely began jerking his head about, her second hand joining in.

"GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE!"

His neck ached from the rough handling and he grabbed frantically at her but she wouldn't keep still, wriggling and tugging as she continued her tirade. A bare foot caught him in the side but he grabbed it, making her loose her balance and fall with a heavy thump next to him though she didn't release him, dragging him down with her. Sitting on top of him, she started pulling hard at the hair in her hands, trying to pull them out entirely. Her nails scratched his scalp as she continuously raked together more and more hair.

It all happened in a few seconds but to him it felt like hours. Too afraid to fight back, he screamed and cried as he vainly tried to pry her hands out of his hair. Hot tears spilled from the corners of his closed eyes.

"Veronika! Fritz, you asshole, stop them!"

Grizelda, having heard the commotion, appeared above them, watching the scene with horror.

"I'm tired," was the casual response.

"Asshole," she repeated before plunging down to grab the hysterical seven-year-old around her waist. "Veronika, stop it! You'll make yourself sick again!"

"GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE! GET OUT! GET OUT! MAMA!"

"Fritz, you son of a bitch, help me!"

He didn't hear the other's response but something began to roughly tug at the hand buried in his hair, un-gently forcing her fingers to let go while their elder sister lifted her body off his. Finally, the two older siblings were able to separate the younger.

"You shouldn't get yourself worked up, Veronika," Grizelda chastised softly, wiping the tear streaks away with the palm of her hand. "Your heart can't take it."

Rubbing his throbbing head, he gingerly sat up to find himself at the end of a very hateful glare, courtesy of the eldest girl.

"You're such a pain in the ass," she sneered, rocking Veronika in her arms like a baby. "You know she has heart-problems; if she died it would have been your fault! I'm telling mama that you were picking fights."

"Like she'll even care," Fritz drawled, lighting a joint he had taken out of his pocket. "One less mouth to feed. Good riddance I'd say."

"Fuck you, Fritzgerald," she said, purposefully using his full name, which they all knew he hated. "Sticking up for the tramp? If you like him so much then why don't you go fuck him?"

"What you think I came up here for?" he answered cockily. "I was only letting Veronika soften him up a bit."

While the two continued to argue back and forth he silently scooted back, getting to his feet as inconspicuously as possible. Keeping close to the wall, he managed to make it to the stairs, descending them step by step, trying not to make them creak.

"Shit! Where did he go?"

That was enough to urge him to run down the rest of the steps as he heard Fritz's heavy shoes behind him. Reaching ground floor first, he hesitated for a moment before opening the door which lead down into the dank basement. The lock clicked just as his brother turned the corner. His breath caught in his throat but to his relief the footsteps walked past the door, heading outside.

That had been too close to call.

Fritz would be on the look out for quite some time so he had no other choice than to spend the night in the basement. Considering that it was now the dead of winter, he was in for a long, miserable night. He had managed to find a worn blanket which he had used for a cover for the past five nights while sleeping near the rusted heater in the hall. He didn't dare go up to get it now.

Stumbling on the last step, he crawled under the tangle, dank heaps of rubbish to his secret spot against the wall. The day had been uneventful, with the exception of Veronicka's tirade from just now, but he was exhausted. He had been for almost two weeks. Reaching the sorry excuse of a make-shift bed of sheets, he curled up amongst them, thin arms wrapping around his stomach that was growling loudly.

It had been three months since he had last seen Kai. It felt like eternity though the pain of rejection still stung him. How was it that it hurt this time so much more than the rest? No one had ever accepted him and many have toyed with him before; what made Kai so special? How did he know that the other's receptive manners had been real? Kai could have lied to him too.

'No he didn't. I know he didn't. He wanted to be my friend. But I did something wrong. And now he's gone.'

He had made a couple attempts to see the bluenette again. He had returned to the woods, waiting for any sign of the long scarf or red eyes, but he never came. The last time he tried he had almost been caught by one of the guards and he hadn't dared to return again. It was as if Kai had fallen off the face of the earth.

'Something bad happened to you. Something very bad'

Raising himself onto his elbows, he reached out and dragged a plastic container over from the wall. It was old but still effective in keeping its contents free from damp and mould, its faded red lid sealing airtight. Tugging it open, he sat on his heels and peered in. A half-eaten pack of rations.

Wanting to save it for hard times but starving, he hesitated, unsure what to do. A stabbing pain in his abdomen made the decision for him and he picked it up, eating the last shrivelled piece of dried fruit and stale bread. Not even worthy of a lithe snack, but his neglected stomach eagerly settled for it. Any respite was a welcomed one, no matter how small it was.

He was worried, though. Ever since returning from the forest he had solely depended on the rations. The others had shut him out even more than before. Mama was still mad at him, though not mad enough to not send him across town for more 'medications'. Which meant he had to deal with Jacob once more. The man took smug pleasure in reminding him of his foolish actions. Fritz had not forced himself on him the first month, too irate to not even look at his little brother without beating him. Because the two heads of the household, mama and Fritz, were still antagonistic against him, everyone else followed suite, even though they didn't know why.

Resting his head in his hands, he could do nothing but…wait. For what, he didn't know. He had nothing to look forward to. More than ever in his life, he found himself wondering why he was even alive. His days were spent hiding from his own family and surviving the bitter cold and hunger. His nights were spent awaiting another day. Nothing made sense or had any reason.

"Then why don't you go away?"

Veronika had asked a good question. He had answered, but…

"I have no where else to go."

He didn't want to leave. Besides the fear and pain, he still wanted to fit in to this family. His family. No one got along, but there was a mutual feeling of acceptance. Why wasn't that courtesy granted to him? Why did he have to struggle just to remain within these old walls?

'Different.'

He held up his hands, staring dejectedly at the pale skin. Opposite him he could see his full though shattered reflection in a broken mirror. His red hair was somewhat darker with soot and dust, but his eyes were as bright blue as always. Not for the first time did he wonder about the sort of man his father had been and mourn how different things would have probably been if he were still alive.

'There must be somewhere where I fit in. A place where I am accepted.'

Dark towers loomed in his mind, their black stoned structures lit by spotlights as the shadows of cloaked figures soundlessly walked down long halls. Barracks upon barracks lined the expansive grounds, their windows glowing with lights. Tall gates, spiked and unbreakable, shielding the inhabitants' from the outside world. A tall man with pale features, protecting the children within from intruders. A young boy with crimson eyes, holding out the first calming hand he had ever been offered, accepting him for who he was.

He raised his head.

'That's it. That's the place where I must go. That's…That's where I'll be accepted.'

For the first time in months, a smile crossed his fine features.

He was going back. And this time…he would make sure they'd find him.

Tbc…

Not a very strong pick-up chapter, but I couldn't dump him smack-dab in the middle of the Abbey without some foreground self-searching.

Read & Review, please.