Author's Note: don't own the Storm Hawks.
MI: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! You're the best! Yeah, this is probably one of my darker stories, sorry about that. I tried to tell you that I was evil inside….Mwahahahahahah! See? I've even perfected the laugh! Well, thanks again!
Helliexx: Thanks for reading! You're awesome!
PaigeyLou: Thanks! Well, this is rated "T," and I want to keep it that way…anyway, glad you like it!
Dancing-with-the-devil 1995: Okay, here's the next chapter! (I just can't resist six-year-olds!) You have a little sister? Lucky! Brothers are so not cute when they're six, they're just messy and immature and annoying!
Cowgirls Angel Rita: Yeah…something about me and cliffhangers. Everyone seems to review more after a cliffhanger!
I can't bother logging in: I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to make you wait, but somehow, it just took way longer to write then I expected. I'll try to be quicker with the next couple! I'm really glad you like S/DA. Really, it was strange and random, but it does turn out sort of cute. In an evil, sadistic way. Well, thanks so much for reviewing!
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My eyes cracked open, and I was shocked to find sunlight illuminating the room. Then, it hit me: it was morning. I hadn't slept for ten minutes, I had slept for ten hours. I rolled over, and, not surprisingly, the bed beside me was empty. Turning back, I tried to sit up, only to find a sparking red blade of light and metal at my neck.
"Bloody hell," I groaned.
"Really? 'Bloody hell'? Is it too early in the morning, or do you have a childish dislike to swear-words? Because I can think of a few better things to say, like fu—"
"Shut up. I'm having a bad enough morning as it is without you trying to teach me Vulgarities and Profanities 101." Uhg. How could I have been so stupid?
He was chuckling, as if he could read my mind. "Only you, Star-girl. Only you." He paused to snort a bit more. "Only you would insult someone holding a blade at your neck. But then again, only you would beat someone in a fight, then instead of killing them when you had the chance, drag them back to their bed and sleep next to them."
I was blushing. Damm, I was such an idiot! I should have gotten out while I had the chance! "Just wondering, why didn't you kill me when I lay there helpless?" His tone was joking, but his eyes told a different story. They probed my face, hard, cold, and curious.
"It's not the right thing to do, to hurt someone when they're helpless. I'm not like you," I hissed. "And when I decided I couldn't kill you, why just leave you there? After all, now I don't owe you my life anymore. We're even."
His eyes were completely unreadable for a second, then he spoke. "You're right, you're not like me. You're weak."
I was weak, and I knew it, but I wasn't going to let him know. "There's a difference between weakness and compassion." He laughed. Neither of us believed that.
"So what are you going to do with me?" I continued. Best get it over with.
He stepped closer. "Well, since you already are in the bed…"
"Don't you have a day job? Like, babysitting Talons or something?"
His face darkened. "As a matter of fact, I do. Oh well—there's always tonight, and you're not going anywhere." My mind was racing. If he had to go take care of some Talons, then maybe I could escape—
The blade lifted from my throat, and a lump of cloth was tossed into my arms. It was a Talon uniform. "Well, sweetheart, get dressed. We've got ourselves some cadets to train."
Whoa—slow down. He had himself some cadets to train. I was not a part of helping Cyclonis build her armies. And did he really think I was going to wear a Talon's uniform? "Excuse me?" I stuttered.
"You heard me. Master Cyclonis wants you to be useful, and if I have to work, there's no way you get to sit in my room all day. You're coming with me. That way, I can make sure you don't escape, and the kids might get an interesting fighting lesson."
I glanced down at the uniform in my hands. It would be a lot easier to fight through scored of Talons and escape if I wasn't wearing pajamas. I had worn similar things when I infiltrated Cyclonia last year. It couldn't be too hard. Sighing, I made my way over to the bathroom. "I regret not killing you already," I grumbled to myself.
His laughter followed my retreating form.
"You consider this breakfast?" I looked incredulously at the soggy piece of toast and cup of coffee that he placed in front of me. Hey, maybe it was OK for him, but I hadn't eaten in…well, I wasn't really sure how long. I think it was about a week they tortured me, then I'm not sure how long I was out with the fever hallucinating I was dead, then there was my self-induced coma. The point was, I was ready for a real breakfast. Soggy toast was so not cutting it.
"You don't like it? Make yourself something different, for all I care. You're in the kitchen." He took a sip of his coffee, smiling.
So he thought I couldn't cook? I had been living on my own for five years, and if there was one thing I learned, it was that if you want good food, you cook it yourself. Buying dinner every night was too expensive for a lone, broke Sky Knight. After one week of starving, I slowly began to improve, teaching myself how to cook until I could whip-out first class meals and eat them in under half an hour.
I found eggs, sausage, bacon, and potatoes in his fridge. Ignoring the meaty products (vegetarian, anyone?) I grabbed two eggs, some milk, and some potatoes. I cracked the eggs, mixed in some milk, cinnamon, and sugar, and dipped two slices of toast into it. Then, as the French toast sat absorbing the mixture, I chopped up the potatoes. Turning on the stove, I placed a generous dab of oil on the pan, then set the vegetables frying. Next, I checked the toast—all ready, so I set that in its own pan. Keeping an eye on my cooking food, I poured myself a glass of orange juice.
All the time, I was aware of his eyes burning into my back as I whirled around the kitchen. It was really disconcerting, knowing that he was watching my every move, but having no idea what he was thinking. Actually, I'm not sure if I wanted to know what was going on in his head. I mean, I had enough problems myself, and the Raptors had killed my squadron…
Was I starting to feel sorry for him? He was the enemy! But he was also a fellow human being, and underneath his tough surface, he was in pain. He needed someone to care for him. Because if you've forgotten love, you're not human anymore, you're a monster.
Oh, gosh. I was going all mushy. That's just what I needed—to miss opportunities to escape because I thought I had a chance of teaching the Dark Ace compassion. Seriously, who was I kidding? I wasn't even…emotionally stable myself. I was broken. Shouldn't I be worrying about healing myself, and not him?
So forgive yourself. You're the only one who needs to. You're the only one who can. I swallowed a lump in my throat. It wasn't that easy. Even if I did manage to let go of the past, I'd still have blood on my hands.
The smells of a deliciously cooking breakfast shook me from my reprieve. I hurried to the pantry, grabbing a plate and fork, before rushing back to the stove. The French toast was golden brown, and the hash-browns looked perfect. Smiling, I spooned it all onto my plate.
Just before I could turn to head back to the table, warm, calloused hands closed over mine. Red eyes locked with green. He smiled, flashing his perfect white teeth. "On second though, I'll take that." His hands tightened on my plate.
He. Was. Stealing. My. Breakfast. My stomach growled like a savage wolf. I was nearly crying from hunger, and I think he could tell, too. He smirked, and pulled, and the plate came out of my grasp. Did he have no integrity at all?
My eyes narrowed, and I prepared to shout various hateful things at him, but then I stopped myself. Forgiveness starts now. You don't have the time to put it off to tomorrow. There was more eggs. There was more bread. There was more potatoes. I could make myself another serving.
I ignored the protests of my stomach, and began the entire cooking process again. It didn't help that I could hear him munching in the back of the room.
He was just trying to get me mad. It would be falling right into his trap if I protested at his nasty theft of my food. The smart thing to do was remain silent. I would be winning this stupid mind-game then.
I guess he got bored of watching me silently prepare my own food again, because he couldn't resist a jibe. "Whatever happened to your backbone, Star-girl? You're really just going to let me take your food, and get away with it?"
"Choose your battles wisely," I shot back. "I can make more. Plus, I feel a bit sorry for you, eating soggy toast and cold coffee every morning. No wonder you're always so…evil." He laughed.
"Why even bother choosing your battles if you're never going to win? Why even bother fighting if you're going to lose the war?" Somehow, I got the feeling that we weren't talking about breakfast anymore.
"Because if you're going to go down, you go down fighting. You go down with pride. You go down kicking and screaming, and taking as many of them to hell with you." I answered without hesitation. In all my confusion, that was the one firm rock that remained. It was the one concrete thing left in my world of turmoil. I would never stop fighting. Never.
He nodded. "Good answer. I can respect that." I stared at him, shocked. He could never fail to surprise me. I mean, you'd think I'd be used to it by now, but no, he always just had another bomb to drop.
My breakfast was done, and I quickly scooped it onto another plate before hurrying back to the table. He finished the last bite of his food, then rose. "Well, come on now, Star-girl. We've got Talons to train. It's not breakfast all day." The steaming plate of food sat there in front of me. He wasn't really serious, was he? I gripped my fork so hard that my knuckled turned white. I was not giving up this food. I didn't care if I had to fight for it, I would stab him with my fork, but I was eating my French toast.
He laughed. "The look on your face!" My eyebrows came together, confused, until I figured out what he meant. He was teasing me. "I was kidding. Take your time, Star-girl. The Talons have to eat, too, and there are always long lines in the mess hall."
The savory smells of cinnamon and egg and potato wafted up, making my mouth water. Still, I forced myself to eat slowly. I started on the potatoes: each bite was like a little piece of heaven.
"Syrup?" I nodded, mouth full, and he passed me a bottle. I drizzled it over my French toast.
I swallowed, taking a large gulp of OJ to help all the food down. "Thanks."
So weird. I was sitting in his kitchen, wearing a Talon uniform, eating his food, and we were speaking fairly civilly to each other. It felt strange and wrong, but at the same time, natural and acceptable.
Finally, I put my fork down on my empty plate. He grabbed it and placed it in the sink. "You're doing dishes?"
"No! I have a servant for that sort of thing. I'm just clearing it from the table."
"You're all defensive all of a sudden."
"Look, it's my way of saying thank you for the food."
Kaboom! Another bomb dropped in my mind. I blinked my eyes, reeling. "Well, you're welcome," I said stiffly. "Ask next time. It's not hard to cook for two, and it's a whole lot quicker than cooking breakfast twice."
He chuckled, his tight armor back up. "You're mad at me, aren't you? You're rather cute when you're all angry. Come on, we have some Talons to teach."
I looked him in the eye. "You realize that I'm not going to help train them. You're dragging me along for no reason."
"Oh, you will help. You have no idea how much you will help."
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