08/07/11: My god. AUGUST? I've got a month before I have to go back to university! There were things I wanted to do, people I wanted to see! D:

Also, how does something that was 4,600-ish words in MS word magically become 5,100-ish upon uploading? BEFORE I add my Author Notes? It baffles me. AND when compiled these rewritten chapters now total 100 pages in Word. Not that I think any of you really care, but I think it's pretty neat.

Torn, Erol, Ashelin, Praxis, and Damas all belong to Naughty Dog. Everyone else is mine.

Torn's reading of the report was interrupted by someone pounding on his door. He looked up in confusion; it wasn't like one of his typical visitors to knock like that. Scowling, he set the report aside and got up to answer. The moment he'd pulled the door open, he found himself caught in a tight embrace from a very cold, very wet, and very familiar teenager.

"Ripp! What are you doing here?"

The teen shivered against his brother, panting slightly as he spoke, "I had to come see you."

"You're drenched!"

"Yeah," Ripp said, waving a hand as though he were trying to dismiss this as some minor detail. "I walked, don't worry about it."

Torn stared at him. "You walked? Ripp, that's almost two hours!"

"Hour fifteen if you run half of it."

Torn blinked and ruffled his brother's sopping hair. "You're mental. C'mon let's get you dried off."

Ripp nodded and followed his brother, rubbing his bare arms in the hopes that he could work some warmth into them; he was honestly surprised that he hadn't managed to contract hypothermia with how much time he'd been spending out in the cold rain recently. Torn glanced back at him and did a double take, properly registering the sight of his brother for the first time.

"What the hell are you wearing that for?" Torn asked, nodding to the KG uniform that Ripp was sporting.

"Wha-? Oh! It's the only thing that fits right now. Everything I've got is too small or wet or caked in mud. So I raided your closet again. It was all I could find."

"You didn't wear that to…school did you?" he asked, opening the linen closet to get out a towel for Ripp.

"Yeah, I did. Got me a bit of trouble from the other kids, but I'm fine." This was mostly true. Save a kid or two at in Ripp's class, majority of the abuse he'd received for his attire had been verbal. None of the blows had amounted to much anyway, nothing like he was used to dealing with.

Torn stared at his brother; it seemed the concept was just a bit too far out of his comprehension at that moment. "You really are mental." He gave his head a hopeless shake. "You need to get some new clothes, Ripp."

"I know, I know. I plan to get on that once Mom's out of the hospital."

"You are such an idiot," Torn said rolling his eyes as threw the towel at Ripp.

The teen caught it and immediately started to scrub his hair dry. "Resourcefulness is not equal to idiocy."

Torn crossed his arms over his chest. "In this case? Where you wore an academy uniform to a lower class public school? It sure is."

"Fine line, fine line." Ripp grinned as he slung the towel around his neck, hair sticking up in all directions but considerably less wet. Torn's eyes narrowed and he grabbed Ripp by the jaw, dragging him forward. "Uh… Torn?"

"What in the world did you do to your eye?"

Ripp wanted to tell him the truth, desperately wanted to tell him the truth. Tell him that it had been Simius, but his mouth refused to form the correct words, the attempt to utter the truth died on the tip of his tongue, his voice simply failed. "I told you, I had a bit of trouble from the other kids." The lie slipped out easily.

Torn didn't look entirely convinced. "That's a few days old. You've been wearing my uniform for more than one day?"

"Well… no…" Ripp admitted. He hadn't expected Torn to catch that.

"So what really happened?"

The chance was right there, but Ripp couldn't make himself take it. He sighed, swallowed once and said, "Well… There's this girl I like…"

Half of Torn's tattooed brow shot up. Ripp chose to ignore this fact.

"And there's this other kid who thinks he's better than me, so he keeps trying to tell me to stay away from her. And-"

"Let me guess, you don't take that too well?" Torn asked. He seemed amused.

Ripp couldn't quite keep from grinning a little. "We butt heads a lot." The teen shrugged. "It was a lucky punch." Again, the lie came easily. It was always easy when there was a hint of truth embedded within it. This time Torn didn't appear to question the story for a moment. "He's just jealous that she talks to me." Ripp's faded as he looked around the inside of Torn's quarters. He'd never been in them before, but that wasn't what was on his mind. "Do you always keep it so cold in here?"

"It's not cold. You're just soaked." Torn smiled slightly and ruffled Ripp's hair. "Hang on for a sec; I'll grab you something warmer."

Ripp nodded his thanks as Torn disappeared into his bedroom. The teen glanced around with mild interest before stripping off his wet shirt. When Torn returned, he stopped at stared at Ripp for a moment.

"Look at you! What the hell have you been doing?" he demanded.

For a moment, Ripp didn't know what his brother was referring to, and then he looked down and realized what he meant. His chest was mottled with bruises, old and new. "Oh," he said, "Nothing much."

"You're insane. Never wear my uniform to school again. You'll get killed."

Ripp flicked his hand in a noncommittal gesture. "I doubt that. I can handle myself decently enough."

Torn shook his head and handed Ripp a change of clothes. "Here. Go get changed. We'll talk in the living room."

Ripp sat on the couch next to Torn, he was leaning forward with his forearms on his knees, but it wasn't enough to hide his shaking hands and his shoulders still vibrated with cold. Torn put a hand on his shoulder and Ripp sighed at the heat it sent through the contact site.

"You okay?"

The teen nodded shakily. "Fine. Totally fine." It had been at least twenty minutes since he'd changed clothes and his shivers still refused to subside.

"You sure?"

Again, Ripp nodded. "I'm fine."

"If you say so." Torn sat up straighter and sighed, running a hand back over his dreadlocks. "You know," he began, "It really is too bad that Mom got sick…"

Ripp shrugged. "Isn't it always?"

"Yeah, but this time it's really inconvenient. I don't know when I'm going to be able to see you guys again."

Ripp shrugged again. "You always make time." Eventually. He'd given up on counting all of the times that Torn had missed a visit over the years; it was too depressing to keep track.

"I try, but…" Torn trailed off and looked at his still shivering brother, "Things aren't looking good."

The teenager sat up straighter and fixed Torn with a look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means…" He sighed. "If the rumours hold true then… I'm getting shipped out soon. Damas is considering an all-out war with the metalheads."

Ripp stared at him. "What?"

Torn nodded grimly. "I was hoping I could tell you and Mom and Dad this weekend, but… It looks like you'll have to tell them for me."

This produced wild head shaking from Ripp. "No! No way! I can't do that!"

Torn took Ripp's hands in his. "Hey, it's not like we're heading out tomorrow, just relax. Okay?" There was a moment of silence, and then Torn looked down at Ripp's hands. "You're sure you're okay? You're hot, kiddo."

Ripp blinked and pulled a hand out of Torn's grasp. "Am I?" he asked, touching his forehead gingerly.

Torn nodded and pressed the back of his hand to Ripp's forehead. "Definitely. You're burning up."

"Maybe I'm feeling a little off…" he admitted slowly.

The man pulled his brother close and sighed, hugging the teen tightly to him. Ripp leaned into the hug, resting his head on Torn's chest. Now that he'd dared to admit that he wasn't feeling quite right, it was considerably harder to ignore just how bad he actually was feeling. And Torn was right there, warm and safe. He curled up to his brother, loving the warm secure feeling it gave him to be there. He'd missed this, missed having Torn there when he needed him, missed everything about his brother.

Torn ran his fingers slowly through Ripp's hair, brow furrowing with concern. According to their parents, it had been in Juska's teenage years when her immune system had begun to fail her. A fear settled in the pit of Torn's stomach and he pulled Ripp into his lap, hugging him tighter. What if Ripp had inherited Juska's disease? What then? With Simius working, the potential for him getting shipped off soon and Juska hospitalized, what would happen if Ripp needed someone to look after him? It seemed unlikely that anything good could come of it.

The teen shifted, pressing his face to Torn's neck with a whimper. Torn adjusted his hold on Ripp, and looked at his brother. It was so reminiscent of their younger days that he almost smiled; reminded of the little boy that Ripp had been before the long separation had begun.

Ripp shifted again, his fevered skin pressing closer against Torn as he shivered unhappily. It was at that moment that Torn decided that he had to do something. He might not be able to look after Ripp for long, but…

"Hey, Ripp?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm going to keep you for a while. Okay?"

"What do you mean?" Ripp mumbled.

"I mean I'm going to call Dad and tell him you're spending the weekend here with me. Alright?"

Ripp sat up slightly, yawning. "Alright… I like the sound of that."

Torn brushed back his brother's hair. "Does he even know you're here?"

Ripp bit his lip and shook his head. "No…" Simius had, in fact, forbidden him from contacting Torn since Juska had taken ill. He wasn't exactly eager to go home to the man and what was doubtless his anger at such deliberate disobedience. "He was visiting Mom when I left."

"She doing any better?"

Another shake of Ripp's head. "No. Not yet…" He looked at Torn and there was something pleading in his light gaze. "She is going to get better, right?"

Torn sighed. "I dunno, Ripp. I really don't. Bur for the moment, let's just worry about you."

"If you want to…" Ripp buried his face in Torn's neck again, inhaling deeply. He tried and failed to stifle another yawn; he simply couldn't help it. How long had it been since he'd been this relaxed? Too long. Maybe never.

Torn gave Ripp's hair an affectionate ruffle and let go of him. "Fine. You need to try and get some rest, okay?" He pushed Ripp gently off his lap and got up.

"Mm." Ripp nodded and curled up on the couch, using his arms as pillow. "Okay…." He yawned once more and closed his eyes. "If you say so…"

Torn smiled and got up to go call Simius. There was no answer at the house – not that he'd been expecting one – and left a message for whenever his father got home. By the time that Torn got back to living room, Ripp was already fast asleep.

The weekend passed by far too quickly for the liking of either Torn or Ripp, though it did allow them to get some much needed quality time. Ripp's illness turned out to be nothing more than a cold brought on by spending too much time out in the rain – not that the teen was willing to offer this as a solution when Torn decided to speculate on what could have made him sick.

For the most part, Monday went fairly well for Ripp, despite the fact that he lacked a large portion of his school supplies and homework when he got to school. Torn had dropped him off before heading out on patrol, but this meant that Ripp didn't have access to the school supplies he'd left at home before arriving at his brother's place.

Thanks to the clothes Torn had lent him, Ripp's interactions with other students – save Viran – had greatly improved over what they had been when he'd resorted to wearing the old KG uniform. Ripp had never expected that he'd enjoy his quiet school role so much as he did that day.

Leeta's relief at seeing him was clear and she came running over to hug him the moment he walked into their first period class.

"Ripp!" she cried, "Where were you all weekend? I tried calling your house, but I just kept getting your dad or the answering machine." She pulled a face. "Neither was particularly informative."

He laughed quietly. "I bet not." He released her from the hug, smiling at her. "I was with Torn."

Her eyes darted around the classroom once before speaking in a hushed tone. "Did you tell him?"

Ripp's smile vanished and he shook his head solemnly.

Leeta sighed. "Ripp… Why not?"

He looked away. "I don't want him to worry about it. He said he's probably getting shipped out soon. I just… I can't make him worry about me." Ripp ran a hand back through his hair. "I can't distract him who knows what might happen to him if I did. He could be killed…"

Again Leeta sighed. She stroked her hand down Ripp's cheek sadly. "If you say so…"

"I do. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Ripp made it home only a couple minutes before his father that day and he darted up to his room, taking the steps two at a time. He pulled open a drawer on his desk and removed the small box that he kept his project earnings stashed in. He'd rarely actually used any of the money, in fact the only time he'd dared to spend any of it had been when he purchased himself an elaborate first aid kit which was now kept tucked safely away under his bed.

Carefully, Ripp counted out a fair amount of cash and stuck the rest back in the box. He pocketed it and paused, looking thoughtfully at his money box. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that told him it wasn't safe there. It was irrational to think, no one knew he had the money, much less where it was hidden, but still… He contemplated for a moment and then separated another small amount of cash which he hid elsewhere in his room.

There. Now he had an emergency cache, just in case Simius found out about the other one.

"Ripp!"

He froze, caught midway between closing the drawer. "Yes, Dad?" he called.

"Get down here!"

A sigh escaped him. He shut the drawer and doubled checked that there was no evidence of the money hidden in his pocket before heading downstairs. "Yes, Dad?" With any luck he already knew what he was about to be told.

"Find yourself dinner. I'm going to get changed and then I'm off to go see your mother. No funny business, you. We've got a lot to discuss later."

Ripp cringed slightly. He'd be paying dearly for running off. "Okay, Dad…"

Simius glared hard at him and shoved him into the wall as he headed up the stairs. Ripp rubbed his shoulder and glared at where his father had disappeared to, muttering under his breath. He wandered into the kitchen and his gaze fell on his father's keys lying on the table. With a smirk, he picked them up and removed the house key. He glanced warily around the kitchen once and pocketed it. Perfect.

In a few steps he'd made it to the fridge and pulled it open, quickly pretending to busy himself. He grabbed the carton of milk and headed over to the cupboard to grab a glass. He didn't so much as glance at the stairs. Acting natural was going to be his best defence.

He didn't even look up as he heard his father's loud steps on the stairway. He couldn't give any hind of the borrowed house key. Besides, with Simius in the mood he was in, a look could be all it took to earn him the beating of a lifetime. Yes, it was definitely better to just steer clear, keep his head down and behave. At least until Simius was out of the house.

"Bye, brat."

"Bye, Dad. Say hi to Mom for me."

Simius grunted once at this and snatched his keys from the table. Ripp couldn't resist casting a furtive glance over his shoulder as his father headed out the door. He let out a breath that he hadn't been entirely aware of holding. Simius hadn't noticed. Ripp continued his scrounging around in the kitchen for a few minutes after he'd heard the front door slam shut.

He whipped up a quick dinner for himself and checked the clock. He had about three hours before he could expect his father home. That'd be enough time.

Torn waited, sitting patiently through the debriefing, noting the way the king paced around in front of the soldiers. Behind Damas stood Praxis, arms crossed over his chest. He glared out at all of the KG as though suspecting them of treason.

He leaned forward in his seat, steepling his fingers in front of him. None of this was news. Not to him anyway. He'd heard most of the briefing from Ashelin already, but now it was official. Everyone knew the metalheads were a threat.

Erol leaned over and hissed in his ear, "Are you kidding me? Metalheads? They're just mangy animals."

Torn shushed him with a light smack. Erol retaliated by punching him considerably harder in the arm.

"You're not surprised by any of this, are you? I can tell."

Torn shook his head. "Not really."

Erol arched a quizzical eyebrow. "Girlfriend getting you the inside information then?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Yet."

"Shut up, Erol."

"Is that her rule?"

Torn elbowed him in the ribs. "You're supposed to be paying attention to this."

Erol rolled his eyes. "Yeah. So are you."

Another smack, slightly harder than the first one had been. "I already know all of this. You don't."

"So I'll make you recap it for me."

This time it was Torn's turn to roll his eyes.

"- the assault on the nest must be planned out perfectly. If one thing goes wrong-" Damas' voice cut back into Torn's head and he sat up straighter. This he hadn't heard before. Did Ashelin even know about it? Well, she had to now, but had she known before? He'd have to make a point of asking her later.

Torn smirked slightly. Praxis looked less than pleased by the notion of it all. There was just something about watching the man squirm… So intent was he on watching Ashelin's father that he missed a little more of the briefing.

"-which is why the Royal Guard will be supplementing your ranks."

Almost every Krimzon Guard made some sound of disbelief – or disgust. Working with the Royal Guard? It was just unfathomable. It was unheard of. It meant things were a lot more dangerous than anyone had first thought.

Just how dangerous were the metalheads anyway?

Simius hadn't gotten home by the time Ripp returned, a welcome relief for the boy – he'd been cutting it terribly close. He hadn't bought much, just a few shirts and a couple new pairs of jeans, nothing flashy or noticeable – hopefully.

He disposed of any evidence – such as tags and receipts – with utmost care before changing into some of his new clothes. A slight smirk came to his lips, fourteen years old and it was his first time getting new clothes. At least as far as he could remember, his wardrobe had consisted completely of hand-me-downs.

From downstairs came the sound of the door slamming shut. Simus was home. Again.

"Ripp!" he bellowed, "Get down here! Now!"

Ripp gulped and, with growing anxiety in his gut, headed down the stairs to his father. He was greeted with a harsh backhand across the face.

"You little thief! Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"Notice what?" Ripp asked, trying to sound innocent as he rubbed the slap site unhappily.

"Don't you dare play stupid with me!" Another slap.

Ripp glared at him, jaw set. "Why?" he demanded, "Cause you'll win?" The realization that he'd spoken the thought out loud came a split second too late. He clapped a hand over his mouth almost the moment the insult passed his lips. Had he just…? It seemed he had. His fate for the rest of the night was sealed and he knew it.

The next blow sent him to the floor. "How dare you? You insolent brat!" Simius' foot connected forcefully with his abdomen, driving the air from his lungs and making him gasp in pain. "You think you can get away with this?"

Apparently not. Ripp shook his head, pushing himself up, not daring to look at his father.

"Don't you lie to me, you little bastard," Simius snarled, "You've been pressing your luck a lot lately. Staring with bringing that girl here!" His foot slammed down again, this time closer to Ripp's ribcage, driving him down hard on his right side.

The teen cried out against his will, a choked wail of agony.

"You thief. You little thief! How dare you?" he roared. Ripp cringed and tried to cover his ears, but Simius knocked his hands away. "Never take something of mine again! You hear me?"

Ripp nodded as Simius hauled him to his feet.

"Now where is it?"

He could only whimper.

Simius shook him violently by the shoulders. "Where is it?"

Fingers trembling, Ripp reached into his pocket and withdrew the house key. Luck, unfortunately, seemed to have decided to abandon him and one of the bills he had left over from his purchases came out with it. Simius' eyes widened and before Ripp could even think about stopping him, he'd snatched the money away. "What is this?" Simius demanded, "Where did you get this?" Ripp's head was snapped to the side as he was slapped again.

"Dad, I-"

"Stole it? No doubt. How else would a snivelling whelp like you get this?"

"No, Da-" Ripp's protest was cut off by yet another blow.

"You've got more, don't you?" Simius was shaking with rage. "Don't you?"

The boy shook his head wildly, wishing he could make this lie more convincing. But it was hard to seem sincere when his face stung in multiple places and the pain in his gut was finally starting to fade.

"Don't lie to me, boy." The man's hand closed around the fang on Ripp's necklace and gave it a sharp tug. Ripp winced, then choked as his father twisted the chain abruptly, cutting off his air supply. "There's more. I know there's more. Isn't there?"

Rips fingers clawed at his throat, desperate to get the chain loosened. The only sound he could manage was a wheezing gasp.

"Tell me the truth!"

He resisted for a moment longer, but his resolve broke as the chain was twisted again, biting further into his neck. He nodded reluctantly.

"Where?"

All that came out was a strangled breath. It was with greater desperation that Ripp tried again to get his fingers under the dreadful choking chain. He just couldn't manage it. He could feel his flesh bulging around and over the necklace, but there was nowhere for him to pull it free.

"Where?"

Ripp struggled against Simus, trying to fight him off. What didn't his father get? If he couldn't breathe, he couldn't talk. Simius's forearm slammed into Ripp's chest, driving precious remaining air from his lungs. The teen managed to stop struggling for breath long enough to point up the stairs, at himself, then back at the stairs.

His head collided with the floor and he sucked in air gratefully as Simius threw him down. "I should've guessed you'd be so uncreative." He kicked him once for good measure and started up the stairs.

Ripp lay there for a few moments, panting as he loosened the chain from around his throat. His fingers trailed over the skin of his neck; he half expected to find that he was bleeding where the chain had dug in. He could hear the clatter of Simius upstairs, ransacking his room. It was with a great effort that Ripp pushed himself to all fours. From there he worked up to a standing position, using the wall as a support. He had to get up to his room; there were things in hter that he couldn't have his father find.

Once he'd finally gotten up to his room, Ripp merely walked past his father and pulled open the drawer on his desk. He removed the box and turned to him, holding it out. All his effort, pointless.

"Here," he wheezed, voice barely audible.

Simius glared at him and snatched the box away, snarling, "Brat."

Ripp didn't have the energy to manage a glare; he just stood there, massaging his throat, watching nervously as his father counted through the money. He could tell by the twitch at the corner of his father's mouth that running would be a good idea. At least, it would be if he could have managed it.

"You thought you could get away with this?" Simius snarled, pocketing all of the cash.

Ripp didn't answer. He was wrenched forward as his father grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked. Hard. "How'd you do it, brat?"

Ripp refused to reply. His mouth was set in a firm line.

"Drug dealing?" Simius smirked, "Or were you compromising your integrity? I'm sure you'll do anything for the right price."

The teen glared at him. Was his father really suggesting that he'd sell his body out? Surely not even Simius would think he'd stoop that low.

"And to think I was almost feeling guilty over spending your entire college fund."

Ripp's horror broke through his determined silence. "You did what?" The protest earned him another slap from his father; it had to be the hardest one yet, or maybe it just felt that way because of the persistent sting from the preceding blows.

"Like you were ever going to amount to enough to use it," the man sneered. "I put it to much better use than you ever would. Your mother appreciates it."

"You used it on her?"

Another forceful slap. Ripp felt his neck crack.

"Don't you dare take that tone with me! You ungrateful little bastard! How can you refer to your mother that way?"

The teenager didn't even get a chance to reply as a well-placed throw from Simius caused him to suddenly become extremely well acquainted with the doorframe. He was beaten back out of his room to the top of the stairs.

Ripp lay curled up on the floor, trying desperately to protect his entire body. He peered up in terror as he felt his father's foot on his shoulder. What was he about to do?

"You know, I think I can almost see a use for you." Simius' voice was quiet, menacing. "No doubt I could find someone else for you to give your… services to."

"Like hell," Ripp snapped, tensing against what he was sure would be a crushing stomp on his ribs.

"I thought you might say that. So…" The muscles in Simius' leg tensed. "I don't think I'll waste my time. Not on you; it's not worth the effort."

Ripp felt the pressure increase on his shoulder. There was a split second of confusion; this wasn't what he'd anticipated. Did Simius intend to stand on him? Too late he realized what was happening and couldn't stop the inevitable tumble that came after the shove.

He landed at the base of the stairs with a muffled thump and didn't get up again.

OMG! He's dead!

Yeah, I know... it wasn't funny the first time and it's still not. Can't resist being unfunny every now and again. But sometimes I honestly enjoyed my own stupid author's comments too much not to pay homage to them. Anyway, fourteen down, ten to go.

Comments, thoughts...? You know the drill.