Chapter 25

A/N: Well, crap. When I deleted that author note chapter way back when and set everything from chapter 14 (now 13) back one, I didn't realize that I accidentally deleted this chapter entirely. So I had to rewrite it. This is what goes between chapter 24 and 26. Sorry about any confusion I might have caused. I promise I am working on the next chapter! I just got back from vacation (which was awesome, by the way.) I hope you all have had a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!

Gwyneth

"Well, here we are." Mom spoke cheerfully, which I couldn't believe. If I'd driven my kid halfway across town across potentially icy roads in January, I wouldn't be in such a good mood.

"Okay." I pushed open the car door and climbed out, flinching at the strong wind. The cold perked me up, waking me up. I'd been on the verge of dozing off in the warm car.

"I'll be waiting on you to call, okay?" Mom shivered slightly against the cold. "Love ya, honey."

"Love you," I echoed, and shut the car door. I glanced up through the wind and snow towards the Peace's apartment. I could see a warm, yellow curtained glow through their window.

"Shit!" My boots slipped on the slick steps. I clutched the banister, breathing heavily.

Add to the list of ways my power did NOT make my life easier: not giving me the ability to walk easily on ice.

After several minutes, I made it up the stairs and headed carefully along the second-floor catwalk. I soon found the Peace's apartment and then pressed the doorbell.

No one came. I stood outside, blinking in the eye-watering wind. Just as I started to press the doorbell again, the lock turned and the door swung open to reveal Warren standing in the doorway. His eyes widened, and he let go of the door, allowing it to blow open and stay open.

"Hey," he said, and stood aside.

I stumbled past him into the apartment. All at once I felt like I couldn't breathe. The warmth of the apartment leached the rush of energy out of my body, and it almost made me break down.

"Are you okay?"

Warren's face caught my attention first. He'd bent down to my level. His expression showed nothing. He looked just the way he normally looked. But the very fact that he'd asked startled me.

I don't even remember it happening. One minute there was me standing there, the next I had my face buried in Warren's chest, my arms wrapped around his waist, octopus-style, and my eyes streaming. The sobs took up so much air that between it and the cotton currently pressed against my face, it was a miracle I could even breathe.

Warren's entire body stiffened. The part of me that could still think fully expected him to flame up and/or push me away. But he didn't. He stood still for several seconds, hands hanging awkwardly at his sides.

Then a hand—the hand attached to the arm that I hadn't accidentally trapped against Warren's side—came to rest on my head. Just like the first time when I cried, he patted my head slowly, kind of awkwardly, as if he didn't really know what to do. And in all honesty, I probably did freak him out.

That made me think. Holy crapola, I'm hugging Warren Peace. I've been doing it for more than two or three seconds. Why has he not pushed me off or at least growled at me yet?

However, at the moment, crying and trying to calm down and breathe occupied most of my attention, so I didn't really have time to pursue it.

After several minutes, I finally stopped crying. Warren still kept patting my head, though.

I'd never felt particularly comfortable being warm, but somehow, the heat from Warren's furnace of a body felt oddly soothing. All he was doing was patting my head, but yet I'd never felt so…calmed, even safe. With my face buried in his shirt, I couldn't smell leather, but I could smell the scent of…warmth, and spicy…something.

I'd never had a particularly thing for smells. Admittedly, I loved the smell of coffee, or dark chocolate, or fresh-baked bread, but most people did. I'd certainly never become so fascinated with a person's scent, so much that I just wanted to bury my nose in it and breathe.

And of course, the person for whom I'd developed this weird smell-fixation thingie happened to be the most contact-shy guy on the freaking planet. Yay, me.

All at once, it dawned on me that I'd been hugging on Warren for the past few minutes, even though my sobs had clearly stopped. This had definitely reached the awkward stage.

So I forced myself to let go, pulling back and stepping away. I couldn't bring myself to look Warren in the face, and my own still felt burning hot.

"Um…I take that as a no."

If I hadn't primarily felt overwhelmed by sheer embarrassment, I might have laughed. Warren spoke in a stiff, totally awkward tone of voice let me know he felt the exact same way, and this was his way of responding when he'd been totally caught off guard and didn't know what to do. It actually seemed endearing and…okay, I'll say it-cute.

Dear. Sweet. Holy. Lord. I did NOT just think of Warren Peace and the word 'cute' in the same context. Oh God, I DID. I really am losing it.

"Ah…yeah." Was it possible to die of embarrassment?

A quiet cough from the hallway made me spin around. Ms. Peace stood right in the entrance between the living room and the hallway, and her wide eyes and slightly stunned face told me she'd seen everything.

"Hi." The word left my throat in one strangled burst. Even as I felt my face heating back up, something inside me relaxed. Maybe because this kind of awkwardness allowed me not to have to face any more of the Ohmigosh-I-just-hugged-Warren awkwardness—a definite improvement.

"Uh-," Ms. Peace shook her head as if recovering from her own personal reverie. "Hi, Gwyneth." Her therapist-manner emerged almost instantly, firmly back in place. "Why don't you come into the living room and sit down?"

I followed her-Warren stepped aside, and I very definitely did not make eye contact as I passed. She sat on the usual couch and I took a seat next to her.

"Your mom called," she said. "So what's the problem?"

My mouth opened, then shut. Even if I didn't see him, I could sense Warren, in his usual seat. For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to talk around him. The awkwardness from a moment ago had carried over into the present.

Then a brief surge of anger came to help me out. Warren might be here, but this was my therapy session, and I refused to have had my mom drive all the way out here for nothing.

"I…I don't know." Almost instantly my throat started closing up, and I blinked back tears. How am I this close to crying again already?

"I mean…," I took several deep breaths to calm myself down. "I…I told her it wasn't safe and we didn't need to come. But she was all worried, because-," I tried the breathing trick again, but my breath stayed harsh and quick.

"It's…I've been feeling depressed." My voice shook and I hated it. But I couldn't help it. "I know I shouldn't be feeling this way because it 'isn't my fault, yadda yadda yadda'. I know it, but if I shouldn't feel bad about it, why do I?!"

Ms. Peace looked so sad, but yet strangely satisfied. I realized I knew that look. She identified with what I was saying. She not only understood it, but she'd felt something similar herself.

"Why do we feel anything? Why do we hate or love anyone?" I didn't think I had to answer, so I sat still, my breath still shaking. "Why do we grieve at all? It doesn't exactly accomplish anything." She leaned forward. "If our feelings listened to logic, many things in the world would be much better off. But many people would also be worse. And many children would not have been born. And that is not a good thing." She directed that last over her shoulder, and I felt that she meant that for Warren.

"Then why do I have them?" My voice choked much more than I intended. "I wish I didn't have feelings. I wish I was heartless, because feelings hurt." With every word, I found myself choking up more and more until I could barely understand what I was saying.

I zeroed in on Ms. Peace's sweater at her shoulder, then before I knew it I'd buried my face in it. At first part of me felt embarrassed about crying for like the fiftieth time in front of Warren, but then the rest of me thought, Why not? This is MY feelings, and they hurt, dammit.

A few minutes later, I'd calmed down. Ms. Peace, however, stayed hugging me for a few more moments, rubbing my back.

"I'm making a habit of this," I said through her sweater. "I feel like I'm a human hose or something. Seriously."

Ms. Peace laughed softly. "It's part of the grieving process," she said gently. "You've been through denial, now you're going through the sadness part."

"How long will that take?"

"I don't know. Until you get through it. It's not that logical, Gwyneth. But I promise you, you will get through it."

I closed my eyes, sniffed, and pulled away. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome." Ms. Peace smiled gently at me. "Anything else you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Not really," I said. "I guess I should…call my mom."

Ms. Peace smiled. "Yes, you probably should. Do you want anything to drink while you wait?"

"Um, some hot chocolate would be good."

"All right." Ms. Peace stood up. "Hot chocolate it is."

She left for the kitchen, leaving me and Warren to sit there. Alone. Together.

I focused on my nails. Anything so I wouldn't have to look his way.

"Ice Cube?"

My jaw tightened.

"Are you okay?"

"I think so." I stated.

Several more moments of silence passed. I focused on the sounds of Ms. Peace moving around in the kitchen. Hopefully she'd be done soon and come out to break the awkwardness.

"Sorry about earlier." Warren practically snapped it out, but I turned and stared at him for the first time. Warren Peace and apologies did not usually go together.

"What do you mean?"

Warren shrugged. He wouldn't look in my direction, and his face looked scrunched up. It honestly made me want to giggle, but I figured that wouldn't be the best thing to do.

"I didn't react that well when you...hugged me." He sounded really stiff, but my jaw still sagged. He was apologizing for what?

"Um...,"

"I'm not exactly used to having...people...cry all over me...it's a little awkward." Warren's eyes finally met mine, and his mouth quirked in that crooked half-smile.

"Yeah...probably was." I smiled sheepishly back at him, and a huge knot of tension relaxed.

"You loved it, though," I couldn't resist adding. "Getting to be a whole knight-in-shining-armor deal."

"Yeah right." Warren sounded almost as shocked as amused. To tell the truth, I couldn't blame it, I couldn't picture it either. "No fucking way I'd wear armor."

"Warren, language." Ms. Peace sounded disapproving, but she smiled at us as she returned, bearing a mug of hot chocolate.

I eagerly accepted it, and took an experimental sip.

Warren

"Ow!" Gwyneth pulled back, gasping and sputtering a little. She made a face, then held up one finger. It glowed white, and a curl of dry steam went up from it. Them she plunged it into the cup, swirled it around, pulled it out, then took another sip. She smiled at that. "Perfect."

I settled back in my chair. The scene made me want to smile-Mom taking a seat on our sofa, and Gwyneth next to her, trying to keep a straight posture but having to stoop a little over the cup. She looked so awkward, yet so at home, that I wished I had a camera on me.

The ringing phone broke the quiet moment. Mom picked it up on the second ring. "Hello?"

Her eyebrows rose, and she glanced at Gwyneth. "Oh...yes. How are you?"

Another pause, then Mom's eyes widened in shock. "Oh God! Are you...oh. Well, that's a relief...oh, no."

Then she glanced at Gwyneth as if startled. "Oh...well, I don't know. I could ask her...,"

Immediately, Mom covered the phone with one hand and turned towards Gwyneth. "Your mom just called. Her car slipped on some ice and went into a ditch."

Gwyneth nearly dropped her mug. "What? Is she okay? Is-,"

"She's fine. She's okay." My mom replied quickly. "But her car did get damaged. She has to be towed home, and she wanted to know if it was all right for you to stay here for tonight."

"Oh!" Gwyneth looked startled. "Uh...," she glanced around. "I...guess...but I don't have any clothes! Or my toothbrush. Or-,"

"I have extras," Mom assured her. "And you can always borrow one of my shirts as a nightshirt."

Gwyneth chewed her lower lip, then finally nodded uncertainly. "Okay. Sure. I can do that. Its just one night after all."

"Sure." My mother sighed and stretched. "Did you already have supper, Gwyneth?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Okay." Mom got up. "I need to study. If you need anything, I'll be in my room."

She left, and Gwyneth looked around a little uncertainly.

I looked away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable again. Most of the time, when Gwyneth and I spent any time together, we were doing something, training, homework, navigating crowded hallways. And when she did come here, she spent most of the time talking to my mom. Now all of a sudden, she was stuck here for the night. What the hell was I supposed to do?

Make random conversation? Watch TV? Show her around?

I didn't do things like that with people, not since Anna had last come to our place. Since I hadn't exactly had friends since then, it probably made sense. But now all at once it occurred to me that I didn't really know what friends were supposed to do.

I stood up, and Gwyneth followed me with her eyes.

"Hey, you wanna see the rest of pur place?"

Gwyneth brightened. "Sure."

I headed down the hallway and stopped at the end.

"So...that's my mom's room. And that's the bathroom."

"Okay." Gwyneth sounded like she was trying not to laugh.

"And...this is my room." I stepped inside, wincing slightly at the clothes strewn around the floor.

Gwyneth stepped into my room with all the caution of a kid walking into a new classroom. She glanced up, and around, at my bed, at the stuffed bookshelves and my scattered school papers.

"What's this?" She moved over to the wall beside my bed. My heart suddenly missed a beat: Gwyneth bent towards the pictures of me and Anna, and the one above that, with my family

"That's private."

"Oh...Kay." Gwyneth turned away and saw my iPod, in the dock (another Anna present.) "Ooh! Nice."

"Hey-," I began, but Gwyneth had already pressed a button. The iPod blared to life, blasting out the song I'd had going when the doorbell rang.

"What's that?" Gwyneth started moving her shoulders from side to side in time with the music.

"You've never heard this song?"

"No."

"Its called Layla, by Eric Clapton. I thought you would know it."

"Well, I don't." Gwyneth bounced a little awkwardly on the balls of her feet.

"Um...Warren?" That got my attention. Despite Gwyneth's griping about my nickname, she did the same thing to me. If it wasn't Hothead, it was Jerk-the name was affectionate. At least, I was pretty sure.

"What are we going to do now?"

I almost laughed, not because she said anything funny, but in relief. She obviously felt the same way I did.

"Well, we could watch a movie or something." I shrugged, stepping aside, and nearly had a heart attack when I came within an inch of crushing a book with my boot. Guess I need to pick that up...

Gwyneth brightened. "Wait...really?"

"No. We have to sit still and stare at each other for the next two hours."

Gwyneth rolled her eyes and grinned, shoving me (not hard) in the arm. "Uh-huh. You knew what I meant, Hothead."

I gestured her out with a mock bow, and Gwyneth blinked in surprise. Then her cheeks actually got pink. Had she just blushed?

I didn't get a long enough look to see before Gwyneth took the cue and walked out ahead.

"You have The Hunchback of Notre Dame?!"

The slight squeal at the end made me wince. "We got it when I was a kid. But if you go telling everyone I watch Disney movies, I will roast you alive."

"All right, all right." Gwyneth raised her hands in surrender, but the glint in her bright eyes told me she didn't quite buy it. Great. My token threat didn't work on her anymore. "You know, it's not that horrible if you do watch Disney movies. You have nothing to be ashamed of-," she melted a little under my glare. "Okay, okay." She wiggled the large illustrated videotape. "I want to watch this."

"All right." I beat Gwyneth to the couch, and sat down, as she pushed the tape into the VCR and came to join me on the sofa.

I took the remote and sped through the previews, then when the movie title popped up, I hit Play.

As soon as the sounds of a chanting choir filled the room, Gwyneth's eyes went wide and she sat forward, attention fixed on the screen. Her face went through a rapid series of obvious emotional changes during the first song/exposition. At the end, she sat back with a sigh.

"Wow," she breathed, then gave me an embarrassed smile. "Sorry. I just get so into that first song-well, all of them. It's so intense!"

That basically made up the rest of the movie. Gwyneth's commentary got less coherent as the movie went on. When exciting parts came along, she would range from intense nail-biting to bouncing in her seat and muttering things like, "Nonononono! Come on!" or sometimes even, " Why you hypocritical son of a-,"

If we'd been watching anything else, I would have gotten annoyed and told her, but as the movie progressed, I felt more and more uncomfortable. The first ten or fifteen minutes passed by just fine. But then I saw Quasimodo spinning, tied onto the wheel, and something in my gut twisted uncomfortably.

I kept watching, trying to pretend I didn't care, but as it went on, I found it harder and harder. The story struck too many chords, and I found myself almost thanking Gwyneth, mentally, for commenting at some of the important parts.

When the movie finished, I stood up and headed for my room. I didn't stay long enough to ask what Gwyneth thought, and I didn't care. I wanted to be by myself.

In my room, I undressed, trying not to think about the Hunchback as I got ready for bed unusually early.

"I thought we all were the children of God."

"Maybe Frollo's wrong about us."

"That wasn't kindness, that wasn't cunning! Gypsies are not capable of real love! Think, boy! Think of your mother!"

Think of your father.

"God help the outcasts."

"I don't see any monster lines." The voice sounded suspiciously like Gwyneth.

Oh, shit. I raked my fingers through my hair, growling low in my throat.

After an emotionally draining movie, which got to me way too much, one would think I'd get one wish and be able to fall asleep when I wanted to. Of course I didn't. I must have tossed and turned for about an hour, trying to stop thinking and go to sleep.

"You'll be a hero someday, Warren. Someday, you'll prove them all wrong, everyone who misjudged you because of your father, and you'll be a better hero than he was. I know it."

How can I be a hero if I couldn't even prevent my friend from-

Oh, hell no.

My feet hit the floor and I made a beeline for the door. I had to take a second to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. *Guess Gwyneth's already asleep...*

The bathroom light almost blinded me when I turned on. I fumbled for the cabinet door and slid out the bottle of sleeping pills. I hated to take some of Mom's-she actually used them fairly regularly. But I could not afford to let my thoughts go to Anna and that whole mess, late at night. So I popped a pill in my mouth, swallowed it with some water. A few minutes after finding my way back to my room, I finally fell asleep.