Half a year later, he smiled to himself at the physical irony staining his hands.
It wasn't lubricant meant for slickening human orifices for fucking. Nor was it some random John's semen, spilling between his fingertips and blemishing his self worth.
He grinned at the black smudges, marveling at the grease coloring his tanned skin. Every now and again, like now, it still baffled him how much had changed over time. The oily residue becoming familiar, and serving as a constant reminder of renewed life; his second chance.
As he stood, a silent smile cracking his mouth, he wiped his hands off on his work rag, and began trekking through the work garage back into the front office area.
"Alright there Perc. Luckily you got it in when you did. Your timing belt was close to snappin' on ya. But I replaced it so it should be..."
He pauses upon meeting careful gray eyes.
"Good," he concludes, arching his eyebrow at the individual currently meeting his gaze.
"Didn't think I'd be seeing you again. What d'you do with my customer?" Seb drawls snarkily.
"He's outside. Smoke break. Thought you'd be happy to see me?"
"Not particularly."
"Ouch. That one hurt."
"Not as much as seeing you does, trust me. Where's your shadow anyway?"
The blonde man laughs, brushing his fingertips over the unfamiliar mustache now adorning his upper lip.
"Carson? Grabbing a pecan pie at some dive down the block."
Sebastian tosses the rag in the corner and leans against the wall, arms crossing defensively.
"Yeah. 'Cause God forbid you guys actually do work when you're supposed to be working. So what can I do for you Yantz? And if it ain't about tires, I don't think I can help you."
Yantz smirks in response to this none too subtle warning.
"This isn't about what you can do for me, Sebastian."
Seb's eyes narrow. The last time he'd encountered this man, his entire world had been flip flopped with a single sentence. In retrospect, he couldn't help but associate this face with the fear of life altering, painful discovery, both good and bad. Apprehension being an automatic occurrence regardless of the potential news.
"I find that hard to believe."
Yantz chuckles, running his hand over his shorn blonde locks.
"Maybe so. But I just came to deliver this," and he pulls a rather thick looking tome out of the inner pocket of his coat lining.
Sebastian feels the air freeze in his lungs. He knew that book. He knew it well.
The gold lettering was faded and discolored; the brown leather worn with age, threadbare and tattered on the corners. But despite its wear and tear, it still reeked of his past life.
"Where the hell did you get that?" He questions with a thin voice underlaid with both curiousity and disgust.
Yantz gauges Sebastian with a clear look of scrutiny, as if he's some god damn two thousand piece puzzle waiting to be fixed together.
"Overlooked it," he pronounced smoothly. "Up in that old meat factory back when your um - Simon, was holding your friend and those Irishmen captive. Guess he must've kept it on himself, then left it there."
"And you thought I'd want it?" Sebastian states coolly.
"Oddly enough - yeah, I did. Here," and he holds it out for Sebastian to take.
He feels the disdain building as he read over the title.
The Holy Bible
Last he'd seen that exact book, Dave Karofsky had wielded it as a weapon against Simon, practically knocking him cold with it.
"It was his. Not mine."
"I figured. But the way I see it, it never hurts to have one on hand. And hell, in all honesty, I don't care if you decide to bury it in the deepest pit of the earth never to look at it again. I just thought you should have the choice. If you wanted it anyway."
Sebastian swallows, green eyes skeptical as they rove between that damn book and the reserved expression of the other man. He huffs and takes it from the outstretched hand.
"Thanks."
"Welcome. God, I didn't know you could actually be mannerable. It really suits you."
"So I've heard."
"How's your Mom?" Yantz inquires somewhat out of left field.
Sebastian is briefly distracted from the Bible, catching Yantz' eye momentarily before he relents, answering while staring back at the book, a seemingly absent minded disposition present as he avoids what he presumes to be a judgemental glare.
"She's good. We've been talking almost everyday on the phone. She's making plans to come visit maybe at the end of next month so see she can meet Carole and Burt face to face. Get a glimpse of the Lima life in all of its glory."
"That's really great. And Kurt?"
Sebastian looks up then, an inquisitive arch of his brow accompanying the gradually forming smirk.
"Since when did you become so interested in my love life?"
"Since you discovered manners."
Seb chuckles at this admission, feeling the tension dissipating.
"Right. Really good. He finished his first semester at OSU and is working on knocking out his second. He's planning to take some summer courses too, and once he gets enough credits, he's looking into transferring. New York, maybe LA. He stands a pretty good chance since he'd already been accepted into some of the top fashion schools before so... yeah, he's good."
Sebastian can see that Yantz is holding back; that he wants to comment on what Sebastian disclosed about Kurt. Somehow he knew the exact question that was left unsaid: where was Sebastian fitting into that wonderfully sussed out equation of happy school and life prospects? Thankfully the nosy bastard kept that brand of curiousity to himself.
"Glad to hear it. Heard your friend - Carole's son - Finn? Heard he was in the army? It's a good gig. Respectable. I served as a marine myself. One of the best things I've ever done."
"Okay stalker," Sebastian quips, causing Yantz to chortle in response. Yantz then inhales deeply to regain his composure and trains his gray orbs onto Sebastian with diligence.
"And you?"
"What about me?"
"I see that you've been working."
"Yeah well, I like it alright. Keeps me honest anyway."
Yantz's expression becomes alight with a mixture of sympathetic regard and twinge of what seemed to be pride. His smirk sliding into a genuine smile.
"Honest is good. Anyway, I'm uh - glad you and your's are doing well. Honestly. Take care of yourself kid."
As Yantz turns to leave, he suddenly pauses, then briskly retraces his steps.
"Oh and I almost forgot," and he plunks another book onto the checkout counter; this one adorning that freshly pressed crispness that symbolized a publicated work that was considerably brand new. "Another one I figured should be yours."
Sebastian gingerly plucks up the book, an easy sense of awe quickly developing that he immediately attempts to obscure behind an air of nonchalance.
"This isn't really disproving my theory about you being a stalker."
Yantz hearty laugh escapes, bouncing off the tiled floor of the lobby space.
"I recall you saying something about it. One of the interviews when you told us about your time with Simon. Sounded important so, just another thing I did some figuring about."
This time when Yantz turned and marched briskly toward the entrance door of Burt Hummel's Tire Shop, Sebastian's voice was the factor acting as the direct barrier to his escape.
"Hey Yantz!"
He looks over his shoulder, hand still splayed across the glass of the door as he holds it open to leave.
"Shave off that mustache. You look like a fuckin' seventies pornstar who probably has gross fro pubes."
They share a final smile before the door closes behind him, leaving Sebastian to wonder about how wrong a person can be about a first impression.
He shakes his head as he looks over the new copy of 'Where the Red Fern Grows', a whisper of a smile tracing his lips.
Another few minutes later, after he'd already sent Percy on his way, the guy beaming from ear to ear as a result of the discounted price he'd paid for his worn timing belt, Burt Hummel pushes open the door.
"Hey."
"Hey Burt."
He traipses behind the counter, eyeing Sebastian warily. "I thought I just saw that detective leaving out of here."
"You did."
"What did he want?"
Sebastian pauses, thinking to himself, then utters, "I guess to say goodbye."
Burt looks slightly confused, but then seems to shrug it off, as if deciding it best to simply accept the vague explanation.
"Right. Well, that's cool. Hey I got you a sandwhich. I know you haven't taken your lunch break yet."
"Thanks, man."
Burt hands over the brown paper bag likely housing a plain turkey and a bag of chips. As he moves to re-enter the door to the garage, he pats Seb on the shoulder, a probable gesture of affection and reassurance, then disappears.
It turns out that Seb had found his niche with working on cars. Took to it like a fish in water really. Burt had thrown himself into teaching Sebastian everything he knew, and Seb pushed himself daily for months, finding comfort in the labor of it all. Some days they worked silently, side by side, no need to really speak as they churned out repair after repair. Other days they spent talking for hours, laughing and comparing notes.
He learned an honest trade. And he got the chance to still focus on regaining what he'd lost regarding his lack of a formal education, applying like mad and taking every necessary state qualifying test to credit himself accordingly. He was on the cusp of being able to earn his GED, and start thinking of University life. If he wanted to pursue it of course.
And once again, he was full of gratitude for Burt Hummel as he pulled open his lunch bag, and cracked open the new copy of his favorite book, all of those busy thoughts dwindling as he began to read, tearing into his sandwhich.
It happened on a lighter day at the garage; a Monday maybe, where their normal traffic of customers seemed nonexistent.
After painstaking contemplation, he finally caved and re-opened that damn book: the Bible that had once belonged exclusively to Simon.
The first time he felt tempted enough, he managed to crack it open, see Simon's stupid name etched on the inside cover, then slammed it shut, kicking it across the room only to leave it there for several days untouched.
The second time, he was alone in Kurt's bedroom chancing another glance at the thing, wondering what people like Mercedes who were faithfully religious could actually find in it that was so utterly enthralling. After fifteen minutes of searching in hopes of finding some miraculous answer to life or something similar, and being left in a raw and unsurprising state of disappointment, he closed it with a huff and stored it away in the bedside table drawer.
The third time, he noticed that Simon had certain passages and Psalms that he apparently favored judging by the way specific pages displayed signs of more deterioration and wear than others. Not to mention the constant sight of highlighter glossing over various passages. And almost against his will, he felt drawn to reading them over, feeling a long lost connection to the thoughts of the man he had never really known. He spent hours reading, not even realizing where the day went.
The sixth time, today, in the garage, on a bleak Monday afternoon, was when it finally dawned on him.
"Holy fuck."
His breathing feels more labored as he turns page after page, connecting something that he'd missed all of those times before. Something that suddenly seemed as obvious as the title itself.
There was a code. Certain numbers highlighted in a certain order. Certain letters also colored over with a particular color.
When he pieced it together, his eyes wide with anticipation as he finished scribbling out the message on a spare piece of notebook paper, he turned the pages until his eyes landed on the back of the inside cover.
Use it wisely.
- Simon
He blinked several times.
Fuck. This was crazy.
But with that thought, he also knew that it was very Simon. And crazy was to be expected; a second nature really. The few times he had glimpsed over that final message, he had just attributed it to Simon leaving himself a cryptic note; a reminder to try to be a better person with the Bible as his guiding tool.
That shit had failed epicly.
But he realizes now, all of this time later... the message had never been written for Simon.
Leaving it in code, making it into a riddle... it just seemed to be something that anyone associated with the Irish Mafia was prone to do apparently. A cult rooted in greed and a nefarious intent, that liked to twist the words of God to feed their own sick ambitions of power and grandiour; act out their vengeance, and fuel their misguided and depraved sense of control.
It was that.
But maybe... It was also something else.
Maybe it was Simon's way of allowing the message to reach Seb without being detected by the authorities. Taking a risk in the hopes that the book would find its way back to Seb someday. Maybe...
He willed his mind to slow its pace, the thoughts whirring madly like the blades of a ceiling fan.
"Hey you."
Sebastian startles at the voice, shoveling the paper inside the Bible and shutting it quickly.
Suddenly all of the thoughts stop. Just like that.
"What are you doing here?" He breathes, beaming at the man standing in the doorway.
"Visiting my hard working, very sexy, grease monkey of a man. What's it look like?"
"I thought you had a class today?"
Kurt lets his messenger bag fall to the floor and slinks forward, wrapping his arms around Seb's neck.
"I did. Got cancelled. So here I am."
He punctuates this thought with a soft peck. Which turns into another one. Which eases into a languid, deep kiss.
"Get a room," Burt grumbles from the background as he walks past the door to the work garage, causing both men to smile, and slowly relinquish the embrace. Kurt's arms lazily unravel from around Seb's shoulders; his hand instead tangling into Seb's own as they continue admiring each other with a fixed stare.
"Hi to you too, Dad," Kurt replies, an amused sarcasm imprinted in the tone.
"Your car is seriously gonna die. Especially when you keep driving out here on the drop of a dime so often, Princess. Don't forget that you have a dorm room."
Kurt's grin elongates, exuding a transparent slyness.
"Not to mention a room mate that thinks rock collecting is the equivalent of a good time. Rocks. Seriously. But anyway you let me worry about my car. You just worry about asking my dad if you can leave early."
"Go!" Burt calls out from somewhere inside the garage.
Kurt giggles while Sebastian rolls his eyes, a faint blush crawling across his cheeks.
"You sure Burt?" Seb barks while maintaining an eyeful of the beautiful man still gripping his hand.
"Very. Now go before I give you an extra shift."
"Thanks dad," Kurt declares.
"Yeah, yeah. Just have fun!"
"Alright. We'll see you at the house later on Burt," Sebastian adds.
"Why are you still here talking to me?" His gruff voice rings out, echoing from the garage innards and wandering like a heavy mist into the lobby area.
"Going," Seb announces before allowing Kurt to tug him forward by the hand. He hurriedly scoops up both books and exits hand in hand with the love of his life.
"Maybe we should stop by the house so I can change," Seb remarks as they make their way across the parking lot toward Kurt's Navigator.
Kurt stops, surveying the tall frame carefully with a visceral glare.
"Nah. Leave on the monkey suit. It so fucking turns me on," he whispers in a seductive tone that shoots straight through to Seb's cock.
He can only manage a subtle nod before being dragged forward to their awaiting chariot, his recent discovery of some mysterious code arranged like a strange spell within biblical content long forgotten.
"Fuck! Ughn! Yeah - Seb... please."
They had barely made it around the corner before Kurt was blowing Seb in the car. The latter finally convincing Kurt to stop his ministrations long enough for them to be anywhere but near the shop, and actually immobile so he didn't cum while simultaneously running into a tree.
They ended up near their lake, Sebastian having drove the Navigator like a bat and hell were destined to part ways.
That's what Seb learned to call it - the lake. It was dubbed, 'Their lake'. The girls lake.
It had inadvertantly been christened as such since it had served as their final resting place of sorts.
And instead of being guilt stricken, or potentially creeped out by his current act of pounding into his boyfriend on the place that felt sort of sacred, he smiled to himself at the thumbs up and hoots of approval the two women would have most definitely and ironically been throwing out at the display: Santana no doubt commenting on his technique with rather crude explicatives, and Brittany clapping her hands at her favorite boys sweating over each other and making what she deemed, 'sweet boy love'.
Kurt was shuddering over him, his naked, slickened skin, heated, and everywhere as he rode Sebastian with abandon.
They were splayed out across the Navigator's back seat, Seb's hands clawing into Kurt's waist, holding him in place as Kurt hammered against Sebastian in a rhythmic motion that could easily be mistaken for punishment in its harsh power; his pale fingers threaded through Seb's hair like a life line as he rode him.
The sounds of heated flesh slapping, soft curses, and amplified moaning building within the space like their warm breath and physical exertion fogging the windows.
"I've m-missed you. Oh, God! Fuck me!"
"Me too baby. Every - every fuckin' day. Fuck. So good. Don't stop baby," Sebastian mumbles with difficulty, his face pressed into Kurt's shoulder, feeling his body starting to coil with that familiar promise of release.
Kurt was working him, his own erection rutting across Seb's stomach with each bob of his body, up and down and so tight and just... fuck, Sebastian wasn't going to last much longer.
It had been slow at first. A methodical exchange in which they looked into each others eyes, whispered promises brimming with absolute love; Kurt slowly easing himself atop Sebastian's cock, maintaining searing eye contact as he began to grind upwards in an almost teasing manner, accented by Kurt's devious little smirk.
Now their flesh rapped with lustful thrusting, Kurt crying out as he fucked down on his lover, head thrown back in the throes of passion. Sebastian biting onto Kurt's red flushed skin, sucking a mark of ownership into the shoulder, licking a path across the exposed neck.
"Ah - ah, yeah! Perfect. Mmm fuck me, Seb! Make me yours. Make me yours."
When Seb's hand weaved its way into Kurt's batch of brunette hair, tugging back on the locks and causing the lithe man's head to jerk back, Sebastian had to bite his lip at the sight of his lover coming undone on top of him, cum spurting from the flushed pink cock onto Seb's stomach as his Princess wailed unlike any royalty ever heard.
As Kurt's nearly maniacal drilling gave way to a shuddering, spastic gesticulation, Seb started to lose it, thrusting his hips upwards to maintain the sweet friction bringing him closer.
He pumped, quicker, harder. Kurt starting to still as he had rode out his orgasm, arms hanging over the back seat past Sebastian's head as if trapping the taller man. He felt Kurt's head shift, his warm breath tickling the side of Sebastian's face, and throat.
"I'm yours Sebastian. I'm yours. I'm yours," Kurt repeated in a heated whisper, punctuating each formation of the sentence with a nibble, teething and trailing his kiss swollen lips over the throat.
"Now cum for me baby. Cum inside me."
"F-fuuuuck!"
Sebastian came hard then, his orgasm ripping through him like a bolt of lightning, shredding through his nerves and overwhelming his every sense.
Kurt was peppering lazy kisses over Sebastian's face, ending with several consecutive pecks over Seb's lips. Sebastian could feel the other man smiling against his mouth as they both came down from their post coital high, sweaty, spent, and full of a love that continued to cause constant refiguring. Things that felt like they should be important paling in comparison when they fucked like they loved, and loved liked they fucked: unrelenting and without looking back.
Neither man moved with the exception of their ragged breathing.
Sebastian's head rested against Kurt's shoulder, while Kurt's face pressed into the crook of his neck.
There was no rush between them, so they stayed. Frozen in their moment of blissed connection.
Eventually Kurt pulled himself up and off of Seb's softening appendage, idly stroking the patches of fir lining Seb's chest with sure fingertips, as he rested his head against the indentation of his shoulder.
Sebastian planted a kiss atop the brunette head, nudging his nose over Kurt's carefully manicured browline, enjoying the feel of him.
"So... rocks, huh?"
Kurt giggles merrily.
"Yep. Rocks."
"Well, you do sort of have that in common."
"And what pray tell, is that exactly?"
"He likes collecting rocks. You like collecting rocks. You know, in your mouth."
Kurt looks up incredulously, swatting Sebastian's chest with a flat palm. Seb smiles broadly in response.
"He probably cleans his rocks. You like to clean rocks. With your tongue. Until they're empty and sperm free."
Another slap causing Seb to verbalize his surrender while chuckling. Seb wasn't in a hurry to rid himself of the condom despite its oozing discomfort and slimy tactility. He was too sated to care at the moment.
It came back; the thoughts of his discovery when the silence dredged on. The words feeling easy as he lazed in the feel of Kurt wrapped up against his body.
"I found something today. Or rather, something that was brought to me a while ago, and I figured something out about it today. Yantz brought it to me a few weeks ago."
"The detective?"
Seb nods, causing Kurt to pull back and look directly into his eyes.
"And? What did he want? I mean - what did you find out?"
"Simon's old Bible. Yantz found it a while back at that old meat plant that Simon had kept Dave and those Irish guys at. He - um, thought I should have it."
"Oh."
It was obvious Kurt wanted to steel himself to say more, but was waiting for Seb to divulge first, to make sense of where this was heading. Seb cleared his throat on cue.
"So, I've had it for a while now and I've looked it over."
"Really? I didn't think you were religious."
"I'm not. But I dunno, I just thought, maybe there was something to it. Maybe something it had that I missed out on, or could benefit from I guess."
Kurt was silent, but Seb could practically feel the scorch of the unsaid words radiating. Kurt had never been religious himself, and had to fight not to scoff at the very notion of organized belief in something that you just couldn't see. He was a realist and a celebrated sceptic. Seb continues before he submits to that thought of simply stopping for Kurt's sake.
"Anyway, I read it over. Not all of it. Just some. But there's something in there Kurt. I mean, something that Simon wanted I think for only me to find."
"What are you talking about? Like a psalm or some other crazy outdated life lesson about hatred that's disguised as love?"
Sebastian shakes his head.
"No. Something else. I found like - a code or something. Certain passages throughout the book, he highlighted in a particular order. An order that when I spelled it out, ended up being an actual message."
Kurt stiffened, huffing out a tense exhale before spearing forward.
"Sebastian. Honey. He's dead. Your brother was a sadistic fucking crazy person, who killed people and destroyed lives. Don't let him do this to you. Don't let that part of you that maybe still loves him get... manipulated from beyond the grave."
He had paused, looking for the right word. 'Manipulated'. Seb didn't blame Kurt for his doubt. His trepidation. But Seb hadn't told him to get his approval. He just wanted to share this, as he did everything with the other man. He wanted to let this be another test of his honesty despite the potential threat of skepticism and words to the contrary.
"Kurt. This isn't him telling me some final threat or some stupid declaration or whatever. It wasn't anything like that. It was just - it looked like an address."
"What?"
"Yeah. An address. It's to this old park a few miles away from the apartment."
"Wha - why there? What do you think it's about?"
"I dunno. But I'm going to find out. And this time, instead of shunning you from going with, I'm asking if you'd like to come with me."
Kurt's blue eyes waver as he pulls away from Sebastian entirely, looking out of the Navigator window at the foliage beyond.
"You don't know what you're asking. This is exactly what he would do. One last thing to bring you some other sort of hurt that will obliterate your very being. And that scares me. You've come so far, love. All of us have. I don't want to invite that devastation back into our lives. I don't think I can."
Sebastian rubs his hand across Kurt's back, Kurt settling his hand over Seb's while still looking outside into the distance.
"I went there with him a few times. I stopped there on the way to meeting him outside some bar. Wanted to stall for a while I guess. He caught me on the swings, smoking a cigarette and just... forgetting. He sat next to me. Squeezed into the one nearest to me, and just swung. We didn't talk. We just kept swinging. We did it again a few weeks later. Same thing. No words. Just swinging. That last time when we left, he put his arm around me and said, "Thanks brother". And that was it. There wasn't anything vile or hurtful about it. Like we both felt like kids for a while. Both of us got to be somewhere else, in a different life together. And for that little while, I had an honest to god brother, and I was happy."
Kurt was watching him now, his grip tightening around Sebastian's hand. The air had shifted inside the car, the silence burgeoning. Finally Kurt spoke.
"So should I make love to you before or after we go?"
Sebastian beamed at the other man, pulling him into a deep kiss. When he leaned away, he stated seriously, "Both, I think."
And they eagerly began kissing, breath melding together as Kurt found himself once again on Seb's lap.
They arrived an hour later.
It was just past mid-day, the park virtually empty as most of the neighborhood kids were still in school.
As they neared the swing set, Sebastian freezes, thinking back on this same scenario: walking into some unknown spectacle, unarmed and at the mercy of a merciless mind.
He makes to release Kurt's hand before trudging ahead. But just as he loosens his grip, Kurt tightens, sensing what he's trying to do.
"Not gonna happen. We agreed."
Sebastian releases a deep sigh, slightly annoyed at the stubborn nature of his Princess.
"Can't fault me for trying. C'mon," and they step past the swing set just behind a high cluster of bushes.
"I think - I think it might be here."
He looks up at the young oak tree standing across from him. He feels his skin crawl at the sight; his thoughts being wrenched backwards against his will, crosses and red blood and burning wood flashing through his minds eye.
"I can see it. It says the word. The one you wrote out... 'Wisdom'".
And sure enough, that one word that Kurt just described was etched with an erratic hand into the rough hewn wood.
Sebastian knows that he's moving, but doesn't seem to register the feel of his feet doing the physical work, as if he actually glided across those few paces to stand directly in front of that lone word. He looks down at his feet, knowing that whatever was here, was supposedly buried at the foot of this fucking random tree.
He recalls the message again: 5200, Oakdale Park, Treasure swings near and can be found underneath a tree marked by Wisdom.
Seb pulls out the spade that he'd brought with him and begins to chink away at the soil covered by ill thatched tufts of crabb grass.
He digs and keeps digging until he hears the small shovel clink against something solid. He swallows, looking back at Kurt with wide eyes. Kurt simply nods.
"We're here already," he says, reasoning aloud.
Sebastian forgoes use of the spade, instead barreling through the soil with his bare hands, pulling up chunks of muddy earth and root until he manages to uncover the object that had made the odd clinking noise.
It was a tin box, maybe half the size of a large men's shoe box. He recognized it immediately, his eyes welling up at the sight.
It was a tin box that had once been used to house jewelry: bracelets, ear rings, and a particular watch, delicate, and simple. Santana had gotten the watch for Brittany as a belated birthday gift. Simon of course had taken the watch in a fit of upset when Brit had failed to attain her full nights restitution after being on the beat for hours.
He lost it in a bet. He'd kept the box as a designated weed box, to hold his older stash before eventually relenting and smoking it whenever his other drug supply was unavailable.
"Seb?"
"This was - this was Brit's. I mean, it used to be. Simon took it from her. But it was hers."
"I don't get it. Why would he want you to have that?"
"I - I don't know. It feels like it has something inside. Not too heavy. But it still has some weight to it."
He takes a chance and shakes the box expecting to hear a rattling sound. Nothing is heard.
"Please be careful," Kurt pleads as Sebastian makes to pull up the tin lid.
As he unfastens it, Sebastian's heart beat seems to ice over in his chest.
"Oh dear Gaga... is that - is that what I think it is?" Kurt blusters from behind.
Sebastian is nodding frantically, putting the lid aside and gingerly pulling out the wad of green bills lining the box.
Every single one had the face of Benjamin Franklin showcased on its front.
"Sebastian - there has to be... I don't know, like over a hundred thousand dollars in here? Sweet Prada line! There's freakin' piles."
As Kurt continues to explore the piles, counting through it with round blue eyes, Sebastian notes something white at the bottom of the tin. He pulls it out, and unfolds the small square of lined notebook paper.
This is what I took from them. I always kept it with us. Never actually touched it. Saving it for a rainy day I guess. Well, it's pouring out Sebby, and I have a feeling you'll use it with better intentions than anything I would've blown it on.
- Simon
"Holy fuck. Holy fuck," he repeats breathily, completely lost in his shock. "This is it. This is everything that he stole from them. Fuck... It's like - it's like I'm looking at a box full of something. Something so... so valuable. But it's not actually money."
Sebastian feels his eyes fill with moisture. Swallows down the lump that had formed in his throat before he can squeeze any words out into the open.
"It's like I'm staring at my life. Every piece of paper, every bill is like a memory of mine. Just another memory that I lost because of this... this shit. Looking down at it like this... it doesn't look like anything to me, but complete, and utter shit. Crazy right?"
Kurt blinks back tears, but he remains silent, gazing at Sebastian with a sympathetic grimace.
"I mean, there has to be like thousands upon thousands of dollars here. More than I've ever seen in my whole life at one time. I could probably buy a house, a car, anything that's supposed to mean something. But all I see is everything I lost. And I just wanna fuckin' burn it all into fuckin' ash."
The tears descend in quiet streaks over Seb's cheeks.
The irony felt like a fucking piercing hot blade that punctured through his chest and pinned him to the ground.
Here he was, all of this money, free and clear due to the debacle of Simon's death likely being recorded and learned by the Irish Mafia who had no choice really but to chalk up the loss as just another loss to their underground conglomerate that would, and never could be repaid. Lives had been given and taken. By their standards, it would be enough.
But yet, he hated the very sight of it. Because what he saw was his own face, baring down at him with anger. All he could see was David's swollen and bruised visage. Kurt's stiffened and cold frame tucked underneath a hospital gown looking like life would never be colorful again. Mercedes singing with tears streaming down her face in hopes of subsiding at least some of the guilt. Burt crying uncontrollably into Carole's shoulder...
He saw them: the girls.
So many times... So many moments of wanting to quit on life. So many patches of broken or bruised skin. So many fearful and helpless tears shed.
He saw them as clear as the most vivid memory would allow. And he hated the expression of their disappointment the most.
"Do you want to keep it?" Kurt poses.
Sebastian wipes at his eyes, looking up at Kurt seriously.
"I... I - no. I don't want it. That I know for sure."
"It's - it's a lot of money Seb."
"I know. It could be a million dollars for all I care. It's not worth it to me. That money came at a high cost: my life. Not to mention the girls. And for the first time ever, I realize how much that's really worth. And no amount of green can repay that. None. Our lives were worth so much more."
Kurt nods with a shaky smile, the tears cascading as he beckons Seb to stand. Sebastian stands up and hugs the other man with vigorous abandon, holding tightly.
A few minutes of basking in each others embrace, Sebastian then recovers the tin, the money having been replaced inside, and holds out his free hand to Kurt.
"Let's just - let's not worry about it. At least not for now. Let's just get back to the house, eat Carole's cooking, and laugh at your dad's lame jokes. It's something to figure out when the time's right."
Kurt nods, sniffling. "They're not that lame," he mock pouts. Seb's eye brows shoot up toward his hairline, followed by a slight curl of his lip.
Kurt sighs aloud, rolling his eyes at Sebastian's stony bearing.
"Fine. He's delightfully corny at times. There's a difference."
Sebastian's smile widens considerably, tucking Kurt underneath his arm as they make their way back to the Navigator.
This was the one thing that he'd kept a secret from even Kurt.
The idea had hit him later on that same day. Hard and fast like a freight train.
There was only one person who deserved this; there was really only one person on this planet who was truly owed this money. So there began his journey to restore order.
A week after his containment of the small fortune, he'd set off on researching local private investigators. He'd thought briefly of contacting Yantz or Carson even... But this was something that he knew needed to be kept from any potentially doubtful or non-objective parties.
He'd used a portion of the cash, the tiny percentage of two grand from the staggeringly insane amount of two hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars, to hire an offbeat large bellied man by the name of Hicks; a retired police lieutenant who served many years as a detective, and had a considerable background in the military. He didn't like to be called by anything else, so 'Hick's' was what he was labeled as within Seb's cell phone contacts.
It was no walk in the park. Not like collecting the money had been.
There had been no solid leads except for whatever vague information Seb could recall from conversations long past. No breaks in the search had came until after three months later, to which Hicks insisted another thousand was necessary as this case had wore down on his resources and required a lot more man hours to crack a lead.
Seb had grudgingly agreed, vowing that this would be the last of the money he would ever use himself, because it wasn't his to flit through.
It had taken eleven months in total.
But Hicks had finally proven his worth the day he'd called Sebastian with the news that he'd successfully found the person who had started to seem as much of an apparition as a fading memory.
Sebastian had taken off time at the garage under the guise of visiting his Mom. Burt didn't question it as these trips had become a more regular occurrence.
When Kurt asked, he said the same lie. He hated doing it, but it was wholly necessary in order to get this done.
The plane trip had been his second one in total, having finally been convinced by Kurt to take a flight when they last visited his mom. He loathed the feeling of it and vowed to make car trips his thing.
But now, secretly smiling to himself at the legitimate forms of identification that he's been able to carry for a few years now, he knows that taking a plane would be the fastest way. He curses Kurt for pretty much always being right, then smiles as he closes his eyes, and prays they don't crash land. Kurt would kill him if they did.
He had long since removed his jacket.
It was fucking hot.
Like the kind of heat that sweltered and shit.
He ignored the beads of sweat gliding down his neck and dipping past his shirt, his mind set firmly on his destination.
He has no idea how Mercedes deals with this weather being a healthier sized girl, but she's been doing it for just under two years now, and claims to love it in comparison to Ohio's drab shifts of warmth that are few and far between. She was going to school, double majoring in music and theatre, and had apparently never been happier.
The cab driver had been marginally helpful, pointing him in the direction of the apartment complex with a crooked finger before speeding off.
He made his way through an alley, ignoring the stench of urine and the gang tagging adorning the walls, making sure to mind the directions given.
He passed an old pharmacy on the corner. One of those ones that had probably been there for over thirty years and was family run. He took a chance and seated himself on the curb, an attempt to relieve the slow coursing burn that often overtook his scarred lung when he walked at too brisk a pace, for too long a time.
It was then that he glimpsed a vaguely familiar face that floated right past.
He knows that he must look crazy, some strange man staring with wide eyes while squatted on the curb with nothing but a ripped backpack in tow.
But as he stands, he knows that it's her.
She was laughing and carrying on with several other friends, oblivious to him and the rest of the world.
Sebastian felt thankful for that. She didn't seem paranoid and apparently was largely unaware of the terrible things that existed in this world, judging by how easily she laughed and allowed the other girls in her personal space.
She seemed happy. Care free even.
He swallows, and decides to follow, hoping that she doesn't mistake him for a stalker or something worse, and takes off running.
He keeps his distance. Various yards between them, but just enough that she hasn't fully disappaeared from his sight. The trio walks along with that same easy grace, until they reach a specific corner, then the two break away, waving madly and promising to call later, leaving his target to traipse alone the opposite way.
Fuck. That cab driver had been way off base.
This was like blocks out of the way. He ignored the irritation at knowing he probably would've been lost if he hadn't spotted her when he did, and continued to follow in her wake.
Then she suddenly stopped. For a brief moment, it was as if her body stiffened, and then she bent down to work on tying her shoe.
Sebastian recognized that look. She was on to him. He kept walking, hoping that maybe he could find the right words to not freak her out, because truthfully, this was completely insane. Everything about it.
But maybe that was one thing he had learned from Simon. Go crazy, or go home.
As he approached, it was obvious that she wasn't really tying her shoe. As she stands, she has a cell phone in hand and immediately begins to march at a brisk pace.
"Um - excuse me? Miss?"
She ignores him, her pace quickening.
"Miss? I was hoping to ask you something."
"Leave me alone."
Okay. Maybe she wasn't that naive and care free.
"Please, I really need to ask you something."
"Look if you don't leave me alone, I'm calling the cops. I have my finger on the '9' as we speak."
"Well good. You should. You don't know me from a hole in the wall. But I know you."
This seems to spark an interest in her as she slows to a stop. He moves to step forward, but she holds up the phone in warning.
"I'll call. Stay back. How do you know me?"
"Well not you exactly -"
"Right," and she turns to walk away.
"But I know your sister."
This time she jolts, her feet freezing almost in a violent halt. She's not looking at him, but her voice is cold, monotone.
"You don't know what you're talking about. I don't have a sister."
He wonders briefly if she knows about what happened. But he knows that she can't have. Not when living completely across the country in California. And not when having absolutely no ties to her past.
"You do. Her name's Santana Lopez. And you're her sister... Ava."
The girl turns around at this remark. And fuck if she wasn't Santana's twin. The same dark eyes that tore into your soul. That pouty mouth, and thin build. Her hair had a lighter brown hue, just a few shades shy of her sister's dark mane, and she was maybe a few inches shorter than what he recalled San to be.
But this girl... It was her. No doubt about it.
"My name's Sebastian. And I was one of your sister's closest friends. Can I please talk to you? Only for a minute if you want. That's all I'll need. And I'll never bother you again if you don't want."
Ava stood still, her eyes narrowing even more so. But then she was nodding her head for him to follow.
"But I swear if you try anything, I'll snap off your balls and leave the rest of you for the police. Got it?"
He holds up his hands in surrender.
"I like my balls. A lot. So no worries."
And they ventured down the side walk side by side, Ava stealing side long glances as if waiting for Seb to lunge at her. He smiled to himself, thinking how proud San would be at that. This girl definitely wasn't stupid.
He was sitting on the steps of the front stoop. Ava insisting that coming inside wasn't happening when her Aunt wasn't home.
She explained that she had been living here with her latest foster mom for the last five and a half years. She had grown fond of calling her, her Aunty. Before that, she had been through several other homes. About three to be exact.
The first was when she was five, right after she'd been split from her sister. They had found a local woman who was willing to take her, but not San, because she didn't do pre-teens or teenagers. Too much hassle. Too little patience. That woman however took a liking to caring for infants and found her time stretched too thin when she took in two to three infants within a few months of each other. Needless to say, Eva was the one deemed to be too much work, and eventually given another placement.
The second family was this weird couple who already had a child of their own. They were big on being vegans and wildly overprotective. Ava never remembered having any friends really at that time. When she had questioned their lifestyle a few too many times, questions composed of simple curiousities such as, 'why can't I go play with the girl across the street?' she was noted as being too defiant and troubled. She had made it only about four months in that house.
The third was an elderly black woman named Corinthia. She was a retired nurse who loved attending church and cooked just for the hell of cooking. She was a mother, and grandmother, but all of her children were spread across the country living their own lives and rarely visited.
Ava had grown to love her most. But Corinthia had ended up suffering a massive heart attack which she had never recovered from. Ava found her lying in bed the next morning, and had been the one to call 911.
Amongst Corinthia's children, there had been one, a daughter named Maurine who had been living in California and didn't have any kids of her own. She wasn't living in squander, but she was definitely living under hand to mouth circumstances. Her heart, as big and wonderful as her mother's had been, couldn't see Ava removed to another stranger after spending such a long time with her mother. So she did the only thing that felt right, she took Ava in as her own, and had been raising her ever since.
Apparently Maurine, Ava's surrogate Aunt, was still at work. She had a gig as a secretary in the DA's office and wasn't due to be home for another few hours at least. The drive alone taking some time as the location was in down town L.A., nearly thirty miles away from where they resided: San Pedro, California. Not to mention the horrendous traffic that she would have to deal with, Ava had explained coolly.
Ava brought him a glass of water which he accepted gratefully.
"I only offered it so there'll be some DNA evidence left over if you try anything."
He snorts into his glass, causing her to smirk just the tiniest bit.
"You're definitely your sister."
She grows quiet, sipping delicately from her own water glass as she sits next to him.
"How did you know her?"
"It's a long story, Ava. Maybe too long to -"
"I got time. And since you've come all the way out here, did all that stuff you said just to find me, I think you have time too."
He has no argument for that. So he tells her. He explains their entire history. Including the worst bits. Eventually it ends when he gets to the worst of the worst bits.
"And...?" she prompts impatiently.
"And... I'm sorry Ava. But your sister - she, um - she died. Brittany too."
Ava doesn't scream. She doesn't yell or rage or even let a single tear crawl down her cheek. She simply remains stoic, staring off into the distance.
"Great. So you came all this way to tell me that my sister is dead. Is that it, then? I have homework."
And as she makes to stand, he places his hand on her wrist, which she yanks away with a stern ferocity. He sees the tears pooling in her dark eyes, but her expression is otherwise impassive.
"That's part of it. But not all of it. I wanted to tell you about her. But I also wanted to give you something."
She maintains her wary gaze, the tears refusing to fall as she allows herself to sit back down.
"Do you trust your Aunt. I mean really trust her?"
"With my life. She was the only one who actually wanted to keep me."
"You're sure Ava? Because what I'm gonna give you, I have to know that she'll never try anything, or take legal action to take it or -"
"Jesus! I'm fifteen dude. Not five. Yes. I trust her. Okay?"
"Okay. But you have to know what this means. It isn't just the face value. It came at a high price. Your sisters life being one. Just - I need you to know, that your sister... She saved me. She did. I need you to know how amazing, and intelligent, and badass, and loving she was. I need you to know that she used to sing Brittany to sleep pretending that it was you, and that she cried so many nights, wishing you were with her. She never stopped, not for one day thinking about you. She loved you with everything she was, but they took you from her, and left a hole in her heart that only grew bigger when she came across my brother. And I... I wish you got to know her like I did. I need you to know that nobody called me names better, or made me feel so whole with a single look like she could. I need you to know that she hated salsa, and laughed at the irony of it. That she loved to cook as much as she complained about it, and thought reading was for nerds, but always loved to listen in when I'd read to Brittany. That she was a fuckin' fantastic singer, and that she spent her last moments singing a song that she used to sing to you. I need you to know that she would've sacrificed her life just to spend a single day with you. That's how much the people she loved meant to her... how much you meant to her. I need you to know all those things. Okay?"
He had long since lost the battle to will the tears away. And as he met her eyes, he noted that so had Ava, her face wet with clear tracks that left a glossy tint to her brown skin.
"I - I remember her, you know. I remember how she used to always carry me on her back. Tell me jokes. And when I had nightmares, she'd sing for me. I never forgot her. I guess I just assumed... after all this time, that she forgot about me. Didn't care anymore. Hell, I was only five. After I turned six, then seven, then eleven... After the years just kept going, I just figured that I didn't exist to her anymore. So I tried to live my life. And forget her too. But I never really could. Not really."
When she couldn't seem to find any more words, he decided that now was the time to do what he'd came to do.
He opened up the back pack and pulled out the tin. But first, he handed her over the book that he had put together for this occasion.
"They aren't much. We didn't have a lot to choose from, but I wanted you to have something - a way to see her, and maybe get an idea of who she was."
It was a photo album comprised of several pages of photos of Santana. Some of Brittany, and Kurt, and Seb himself. It was the last months of San's life basically laid out in photo form.
As she looked over the pictures in awed fascination, letting her thin fingers trail over her sister's smile, Sebastian pulled open the tin and held it out for her to see its contents.
Ava nearly dropped the photo album at the sight, gasping audibly and struggling to find the words.
When she just couldn't seem to find them, her piercing scream was apparently enough to express her feelings.
"T-t-that's... No way! Fuck! Are you - that's like, not monopoly money right? You're not fuckin' with me?"
"No. It ain't monopoly money. It's yours. All two hundred and seventy thousand of it."
It took her more than five minutes to officially calm down enough to actually listen to the rest of Seb's carefully thought out stipulations. He was holding her hands to keep her from jumping around.
"Ava. I know you're excited -"
"Hell yeah! This is gonna change my life. I mean, everything. My Aunt can finally get a house. We can get out of this neighborhood -"
"Yeah. But here's the deal. I don't care what you decide to do with the rest of it. But one hundred thousand of it is going toward your education. No if's, and's, or buts. You use that portion of the money for college or you don't get a dime. Understood?"
"You really want me to go to school?" She asks seriously, a hint of adoration buried beneath the inquiry.
"Yeah. Because that's what San would want for you too. She couldn't be here for you. But I can now. So I want you to get an education and set yourself up for the long haul and a good life. And I want to be a part of that. If you'll let me."
She was quiet for the first time since he'd disclosed the information about the inheritance so to speak. Then suddenly, she leaned over and hugged him tightly, and for a moment, he felt like he was hugging Santana again. For the briefest second, San was forgiving him. And Seb was doing his self designated sister proud.
When she pulls away, she whispers, "I'd like that. A lot."
"Good. And I want regular progress reports. Copies of your grades. All of that. For every single semester. Deal?"
"Deal," she concedes with that same bright smile that had earlier only been reserved for her friends.
"Good. So what do you wanna be when you grow up?"
Ava rolls her eyes but her luminous smile demonstrates her clear amusement.
"I've always wanted to help people. People in the system you know. Especially kids who get thrown in foster care. The ones who don't have rights or anyone to represent the things they want. Like a lawyer... or something like that," she admits timidly.
Sebastian claps her shoulder. "Sounds perfect. Now we just have to convince your Aunt that I'm not bat shit crazy, and you'll be on your way kid."
A/N: So... holy sheep shit! I know I've commented on the length of my chap's before but this one by far takes the cake. Hands down, the longest one I've ever written in any story thus far. I thought about trying to actually go through and find the passages from the bible and have Seb explain in more detail which passages he's put together to decode Simon's hidden Bible message. But then I thought... mmmm... I just don't feel like it, lol. I honestly got lazy and I knew that would've held up this chap for even longer so I opted to steer clear of that idea. So remember how I said the end was near? Well this is pretty much it my friends. Next chap is the conclusion. It's going to be an Epilogue. As always, please review and give me your thoughts. I'm super curious about your response to this one being it had quite a bit happening including... what? Santana's sister? Crazy. Give me your thoughts my dears. And I'll see you on the next one.
