Authors note: First I wish to thank everyone who has reviewed this story! 90 reviews, 36 chapters, not bad;) Anyway, here we go again, a slow moving chapter, slower than intended, but it is a little more angsty:)
As always, a feedback is greatly appriciated!
RubyRedRoses: Thank you so much for the review! Great that you like the story, that is always good to hear, inspires me to write more frequently as well:D Thanks again!
Sungirly: Thank you very much for reviweing! Great that you liked this chapter as well:D:D:D
SketchMomo: Thank you so much for leaving a feedback! I am afraid you will only have to wait and see, more will be revealed in chapter 37;) All I can say is that my Boris is a little different. Great that you liked, or at least thought it worked, with Kai's little breakdown. I realized it was about time he got a little more human:) It is sort of a difficult line, I still want him to be though you know. Thanks again!
Girru: Wow! Thank you so much for an absolutely awsome, lentgthy, interesting and constructive review! You have no idea how gratefil I am! When you point out and question weaknesses in Kai's character I get the chance to improve it, and this is after all the only way I can improve my writing:) First off you do have a point, and as you yourself mentioned Kai does have complete control of "his own thoughts", which is what I have tried to convey, although I have done so a little clumsily. As his character developes I will try to incorporate more feeling, and more...insecurity, in his character. As for including "an outsider" I think this is a great idea, and I have been toying with the idea of including Tyson's grandfather or older brother. As for Kai's impression of others, yes, it is screwed. Personally I don't really think it is out of character, everything considered. I want to point out that Kai himself has a rather unpleasant grandfather as his only living family, while Tyson also have grandfather, who is quite different. My intension was for this contrast to really get under Kai's skin, make him angry and envious, although he doesn't like admitting it. For him Tyson's entire family looks like saints, based on what meager experience he has with other people. After all he doesn't really know anything but unpleasantness. As for the whole AU thing I see your point. That being said I did intend for this to stray considerably from the original series. For me Kai was always the most interesting and enigmatic character, and I hated how they sort of took that away from him as the show progressed. I suppose you could say that I am writing Kai the way I would have preffered him in the series:) Anyway, great that you got the title, I don't really get it myself half the time, so yeah, that is pretty impressive:D Bah, this got very long, but again I am so happy that you bothered leaving such a long and inspiring review, and I really hope you like this chapter:D Best regards B98 :D:D
Behind the wall of sleep
Chapter 36: Prodigal blues
Frankie was sound asleep when I left, and I buried my face in her neck one last time, inhaling her scent. She smelled of shampoo and perfume, of flowers and sugar and everything I could think of that was fresh and natural. I had to let her go; I knew that, but I still hadn't done it. This time however it was different, very different. With Boris back in town the game had changed, and I couldn't tell wheatear or not this strengthened my position.
With measured, silent movements I pulled on a pair of jeans and my favorite dark blue t-shirt, before grabbing my trainers and jacket. Being able to move around without anyone noticing was something I had learned a long time ago, and it didn't fail me. When I left everyone was asleep; I could hear Tyson's snoring out in the hallway. Last night had been good for me. For once everyone had been nice to each other, myself included, and although I still found the sensation somewhat strange, I'd admit that it was pleasant. At this exact moment Boris sudden and unexpected appearance was the only thing which actually bothered me. He represented memories and happenings from an existence I'd rather not remember. An involuntary shudder ran through me at the thought, and I subconsciously bit my lip, hating myself for not being able to control the reaction. They were only memories, nothing more.
My first few years in the Abby had been harsh. I had been what, four, five years old? My existence revolved around what game to play next, the new toys I wanted for Christmas. As most children I had led a happy and carefree life, up until that moment. At the time I had been confused and scared when my parents didn't arrive home like they usually did. My babysitter, a shy brown haired girl with glasses named Ulysse, had been annoyed. She had an important exam the next morning, she didn't like the idea of being stuck with me the remainder of the evening. Despite not wanting to I could still remember what had happened with disturbing clarity, every detail, every sensation seemed to be burned into my mind. At about 8 O'clock Ulysse declared that it was about time I went to bed, and an hour later I was consumed in a heavy sleep, blissfully unaware of the carnage which would soon ensue.
I still don't know exactly what happened, but I remember waking up when someone knocked on the door. At first I thought it was my parents, but even my naïve young mind found the idea strange. Why would they knock on their own door? They had their keys after all. Moments later my ears picked up the unmistakable sound of Ulysse's leather loafers against the carped in the kitchen, and then, after about thirty seconds, I heard her fumble with the lock, opening the door. A heavy silence settled after this, and then Ulysse came bounding up the stairs. As if on cue the visitors, I felt positive there were more of them, ran after her, and then a series of load bangs echoed through the house. Deep down I had known that she was dead. There was something about the silence afterwards, how the very air suddenly seemed thick and…..uncomfortable. With the naïve intuition of a small child I knew, I just knew. And then I heard him, a deep, familiar voice, a voice I recognized. It was my grandfather.
Scared by the gunshots I immediately jumped out of my bed, running in the direction of the voice. This meant down the stairs and over the dead body of Ulysse, and I stopped at the top of the staircase, staring down. She was lying face down, her legs awkwardly twisted across the steps. Three small holes where visible in the back of her pastel colored sweater, and I gaped at her, wondering why she was not moving. Two men were standing at the base of the staircase, and I could hear more voices coming from the kitchen. My grandfather was the tallest one, his dark, silvery hair slicked back in a ponytail. I had always been a little afraid of him, and as per usual he didn't look particularly friendly.
That being said the man standing behind him was the final straw. He wasn't particularly tall, but the combination of purple hair, glowing red glasses and a slimy smirk did the trick. I ran. Fuck them all! I suddenly realized that I was standing in the middle of the hallway, hands curled into fists and my breath uneven. How was it that I couldn't forget, that from time to time certain things would always come back to haunt me? No matter how much sex I had and how much vodka I drank I never forgot. The memories were always there, hovering in the back of my mind, tormenting me. I inhaled deeply, flexing my hands, trying to calm myself down. Despite my effort my entire body was shaking, and I took a couple of steps back, jerking in surprise when my back hit a wall. What was wrong with me? I had to get my act together; couldn't show up to face Boris when I was this out of it. That would just be pathetic. I briefly toyed with the idea of going back, asking Rey to come with me.
Why him? Why not Frankie? No, it had to be Rey. I was too afraid for Frankie; she could get hurt. Almost immediately I dismissed the thought, leaning back and closing my eyes, hands pressed against the cool surface of the cream colored walls. I had left a note in the hotel reception that previous evening, knowing that Boris knew where I stayed, and that he would know were too look. He knew me a little too well, and although I resented him for it I was forced to acknowledge it now. I had asked, no…..demanded, I never asked, that he showed up in a bar me and Johnny had visited two nights before, at 2 O'clock in the morning, sharp. It was the place with the bad Irish coffee, and the sadistic part of me hoped Boris would order one. It would serve him right. Perhaps if I was lucky someone would poison him. He certainly did have more dangerous enemies than me. I wondered why he was here, what he wanted with me. He had a weak spot for me, and I would exploit it. Still, the thought wasn't as reassuring as I had hoped.
I felt sick again, nauseous, and without thinking I slid down the wall and onto the floor, lying down. It wasn't a very comfortable position, but I didn't care. Instead I shifted slightly so that I was lying on my back, legs stretched out, proceeding to count the cracks in the ceiling. In the Abby there hadn't been any wall to wall carpets, only bare stone floors, which were hard and unforgiving to sleep on. I should know. With that I abruptly sat up, shakily getting to my feet, before quickly brushing dust of my jeans. I had to get moving, there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Sooner or later I would have to face Boris, it was better to just get it over with. My hands were shaking as I quickly ran down the stairs, deciding that I wanted…needed, to move. The elevator would just be another excuse to drag things out. Was I….afraid? No, I didn't like to think that I was, but I did feel something, and whatever it was it made me uncomfortable. I felt….weak, and I didn't like it.
Not that I doubted myself, I rarely did. When I had decided to go through with something I did, and then I faced the consequences afterwards. Yea, well, perhaps I did doubt myself occasionally, but only afterwards. Blast it! I was just deluding myself, I felt weak and useless, and perhaps that was exactly what I was, at least regarding some things. Despite my though exterior I knew deep down that I was not as indifferent as I liked to believe. I knew how to fight, how to survive, how to….kill, but those qualities meant nothing here, at least not compared to Balcov Abby. People valued other things here, and I still hadn't quite figured out how to properly respond to those demands. They communicated in a different way; sometimes I felt like an alien to them, as something foreign. But, then there were people like Johnny and Eddie, Steven and Michael, and of course Frankie.
With a disbelieving headshake I strolled casually past the hotel reception and out the swing doors, the receptionist waving coquettishly after me. She was pretty; tall and blond, large breasts, not really my type. The streets were almost empty. Every once in a while small groups of teenagers passed me; girls in heels and miniskirts giggled and looked at me, while the guys seemed unsure, suddenly pushed out of their comfort zone. I ignored them all, just continued walking, looking straight ahead. My hands were no longer shaking, and I felt relatively at ease, focused and in control. It was nothing, just a small breakdown. Everyone had those, at least I hoped so. Either way it didn't matter. The important thing was that I felt ready to face Boris, and that I did so in my usual manner, calm, controlled, and cold. Those were the qualities I needed right no, not all the other shit.
I arrived ten minutes late; which I found strangely appropriate. There was late and then there was fashionably late. I liked to think that I was in the latter category. As it turned out Boris was already there, and judging by the way he was comfortably seated in a dark leather chair, a cup of steaming coffee in front of him, he had been sitting there for quite some time. Good, he deserved to sweat a little. A lot. I sat down opposite him, in a similar chair, despite my better judgment ordering hot chocolate. Boris raised an eyebrow at me, surprised. While in the Abby I had been a huge fan of the coffee machine he had in his office. Actually that was the only leverage he had on me. Correction, used to have. Here, outside the little bubble I had grown up in there was coffee everywhere. I noticed that he looked better than last time, better than when I left. Then he had been heartbroken, now he looked…..I don't know, hopeful. He smiled at me, and I scowled back, eyes narrowing. His behavior struck me as…suspicious.
He smiled again, patiently waiting while a waitress came with my hot chocolate, annoying Boris with her over politeness. I watched her go with a combination of relief and regret. We were alone now, and Boris leaned forward, looking intently at me. I noticed that he was wearing a suit, an expensive one, Gucci or Armani or something. "You look good", he said to me, nodding to himself. "More muscular, tanned". I glared at him, my scowl deepening. "Shut up!" I snapped at him, instantly losing my cool. Dranzer was heating up in my pocked, and it took most of my self control to resist punching him. He smiled slightly, bowing his head in a gesture of submission. "I am sorry, I was out of line", he quickly assured me, sounding genuinely sorry, and I realized that he was doing everything in his power to please me. I had no idea why, but he seemed to cherish the fact that I was happy. "I….I think this will please you", he said, sliding an envelope across the table.
At first I merely watched it predatorily, waiting for a trap, or perhaps an unpleasant surprise. However my curiosity got the better of me and I opened it, to my surprise deciding that Boris was right. Yes, this definitely pleased me. It was a driver's license, issued in the US, where one can drive from the age of 16. To my defense I had taken the test, but it had obviously taken some time getting it accepted because I was not American. And then I smiled, no, grinned. Keys, car keys, and I immediately knew what car they belonged to. The symbol of a prancing horse was very evident, and naturally I recognized it at once. It felt unreal, in my hands were the keys to a masterpiece of Italian engineering, and they belonged to me.
I sent Boris a calculating stare, wondering where this sudden change of attitude came from. Sure, he was somewhat captivated by me, but I couldn't recall him being this…..soft. He looked expectantly at me, and I could tell that he had recognized my reaction, and that he appreciated it. Still, he had a lot more to discuss with me, I knew that. This was just to get me to talk, to break the ice. I leaned back in my chair, neatly placing the driver's license in my wallet and cradling the cars keys in my hands. "You should order an Irish coffee", I said to him. "It is quite unique"…..