The time came a little too quickly for Malachi to see his son off to school. He wanted Jensen to attend school and he knew it would be good for him, but that didn't stop him from worrying about him. What if Jensen didn't fit in at all, what if he was sending him off to the worst place possible? He knew how judgmental children could be; adults were hardly any better. By the time Malachi was driving him to the school, he was having some real trouble with the reality that Jensen would be away from him for a good portion of the day and Jensen would be left to fend for himself in a sea of questionable peers. Maybe it would be a complete disaster.

He couldn't drop his son off directly in front of the building as it would be too risky given how easily recognizable he was. Jensen understood and made little fuss as he parked his car on the other side of the school where it was currently deserted. Jensen was well-prepared with his bookbag filled with all the necessary supplies—they'd gone out a few days ago to get these. Jensen smiled at him before exiting the car.

"Stay safe," Malachi said to the energetic child.

"I will, Daddy, don't worry," Jensen said climbing out the car now.

"You can call me anytime, you know," Malachi said before the other could close the door.

"I know, Daddy," he said looking back at him.

"Alright."

Malachi watched as Jensen took his first few steps forward and then as he eventually disappeared around the corner. He was gone and Malachi found that his eyes were fixed on that point in which he couldn't see him anymore. All of a sudden, not even a full minute later, Jensen came rushing back to him. Concerned yet relieved, Malachihe opened his door to receive him in his arms—an unspoken request between them. Jensen embraced him almost desperately not wanting to leave his side it seemed. They'd spent weeks together nearly inseparable with only a few instances in which they were apart for no more than a few hours. However, school would be different. They'd be absent from each other for seven hours or perhaps more in a far more routine way. It was disheartening to say the least especially when Malachi depended on Jensen's presence emotionally more than he'd like to admit. But Malachi believed this was necessary even as he held Jensen closely and ran his hand gently down from the crown of his head.

"You'll be late on your first day of school, if we carry on like this for much longer," Malachi said after a while. The sound of children in the distance was beginning to fade.

Jensen looked up at him with wistful eyes. "Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine," Malachi said releasing his hold on him. "Now get going," he said in a firmer tone. "Don't worry about me—you have school to focus on."

"Okay," Jensen said after a moment before pulling away from him.

This time Jensen took off running knowing that he was likely going to be late at this rate, but not without giving his father a final wave. Malachi sat there for a while longer even after he was certain Jensen must have entered the building. His door was still open and a crisp wind continued to blow in. It took him the longest time to turn the car back on and leave the premises.


The day had dragged on and on and Malachi felt as if an eternity had passed before he saw Jensen once again and he'd parked at the same spot as before nearly an hour before school actually ended. He waited with bated breaths as the time finally came and he heard the voices of excited children leaving the building to head to the buses. Where was Jensen? His index finger began tapping on the steering wheel. Nearly five minutes passed before he saw Jensen come running around the corner. Malachi could see almost immediately that there were tears in his eyes. Horrified, he stepped out of the car to receive him once again in his arms, but this time he'd squatted down to the other's height. He could feel Jensen's wet tears beginning to soak his shirt. It was making him physically sick the longer the other continued in this way. Eventually, he could bear it no more as he gently pulled Jensen back so that he could speak.

"What the hell happened?" Malachi asked earnestly.

"Nothing, Daddy, nothing happened. I just want to go home."

Malachi looked down at him with concern. "This doesn't seem like 'nothing'."

"I just want to go home," Jensen repeated, but in a quieter voice.

"Fine, kid, we'll do that. But you have to tell me what's wrong before the day's out."

Malachi eventually stood up and Jensen made his way over to the passenger's side and quickly got in—Malachi did the same. For a while, the two of them drove in silence. Malachi didn't even bother turning on music sensing that the other wanted some peace and quiet. He always feared the day would end like this. After pushing his son to go to school because he thought it would be good for him, in the end, it was nothing but. If only he'd simply gone with his first instincts…

"It's not your fault," Jensen said.

It was the first thing he'd said in a while and it seemed it was only out of concern for someone other than himself. Malachi sighed exasperatedly. He wondered for the umpteenth time if the child could also read his mind—it wouldn't surprise him in the least.

"Were you being bullied?" Malachi finally asked.

Jensen shook his head no.

Despite himself, he was relieved to hear this, but then what terrible thing had happened at school? And why did no one call him if it was something more serious? "You disliked your teacher?"

"No, that was the good part, the learning. It was really easy and fun. Mrs. Oxendine was really nice to me and everyone. If it was only that, I wouldn't mind going back."

Malachi waited patiently for the other to tell him what the issue was instead of continuing to pepper him with questions. He drove a little slower, as well, so as not to jostle the other around as much.

"Everyone had their own, well, groups they were in. I introduced myself over and over again and no one cared. No one seemed to notice me. Everyone ignored me. Some even ran away from me and thought it was funny. One girl played with me at the swings at recess, but then she just ran off to her friends and I was left alone." Jensen looked over at Malachi. "Is it too late to make friends?"

"It's never too late," Malachi assured him. "Even if it looks like everyone's somehow already found their little clique. The kids who looked like they were ignoring you were doing the exact opposite. Everyone noticed you, everyone now knows how friendly and harmless you are, I'm sure of it."

"Do you think it'll be better tomorrow?" Jensen asked.

"I can't answer that," Malachi said, "That's something you'd have to see for yourself." He glanced over at Jensen, "If it's too hard, you know you don't have to go back."

"I know, but…I want to give it another chance. I have to get used to being around people—I think it's really helpful."

"Hm," Malachi said thoughtfully, "Never thought I'd hear that from you. Are you saying you want to go back tomorrow?"

Jensen nodded. "I have to."

If Jensen wanted to do it, then Malachi would not stop him, but that didn't make him feel any better about the situation. He knew it was probably better this way—it was no good to run at the first sign of trouble. On the other hand, he didn't like seeing Jensen this way; he wasn't used to it. He supposed it was impossible for someone to be happy all the time and attending school was not the best place to make it so.

Jensen didn't have homework that day so they didn't exactly have to go straight home. Instead, they drove around for quite a while around the large city. Malachi couldn't exactly step out of the car or show his face anywhere as he was not in disguise, but it was fun anyways just being able to spend time with Jensen who he had sorely missed during the few hours he was away. Malachi wasn't exactly busy at the moment so Jensen's absence was more apparent, but he knew that wouldn't always be the case. Especially if Jensen continued to attend school. Jensen would either have to take the bus or Malachi would have to hire someone else to pick him up from school on a regular basis. Very soon recording would begin and he knew his free time would become sparse.


Malachi did nothing more than take a quick shower and put on some decent clothes that day. He didn't feel like messing around with make-up or hair products. He knew, with a sigh, that he was once again overdue to see a hairstylist because his hair needed to be straightened again, but it didn't matter so much for now. He wasn't going to be in the public eye, he was just going to the studio. He was just going to meet up with Quint and the rest of the crew. They knew each other. He didn't have to put on airs too much.

He tried to maintain an air of calm, but he was undeniably nervous. He'd spoken to Quint a few days ago to set things up, however, he hadn't seen him in person in quite some time. He wasn't sure if he was ready to see him again. Everything his life used to be and likely will be again started with him. Jensen was in school by now so the entire house was empty. He took his sweet time getting into the car and driving down to the studio. Being fashionably late wasn't exactly his thing, but he found he didn't care. It was just one of the many gestures he'd been giving Quint over the years to show that he was not nearly as beholden to him as he had been in the past.

The place was alive with hustle and bustle once he made it there. This being the place that he had started, it was one of the most popular destinations for would-be artists to take their first steps towards stardom. Auditions were always going on and there seemed to be a never-ending flow of people trying to be signed to the record label. Over the years, the M-town record label became pickier and pickier and took less and less chances on unknowns. These days, they were looking for artists who were more established at least locally with a generous following already.

Malachi didn't have to go through the front thankfully, effectively avoiding all the ruckus he would cause just by walking through. His dark sunshades would not be enough of a disguise to shield him. Not that he minded signing autographs on the spot, he just didn't want to be there all day doing it when he had something else to do that day.

The building was a huge place having expanded its size, equipment, and functionality over the years. He stepped into the place and saw that much of it had been remodeled once again. He almost couldn't find himself to the right place he needed to go on the upper floors of the building. The decorum had become more richly and more offices had been added.

When he stepped into the right place, he could barely appreciate how much more spacious it had become before he was bombarded by Quint's presence.

"'bout time you came, boy—Almost thought we had to reschedule!" Quint said with raucous laughter which was just infectious enough to draw a smile from Malachi.

"Got a little lost finding my way here," Malachi said—it wasn't entirely true, but he went with it anyway, "Like what you've done with the place." He took off his sunshades then.

As was his usually thing, he came over for a hug which Malachi obediently gave him out of respect. At the end of the day, the man knew his craft and had done much for him over the years—there was no need to act rudely towards him. The others were there as well and he greeted them as well as graciously as he could. There was a lot of love in the room and a lot of expectations. They were at this very moment going to do the thing that each collectively loved to do and they'd already been paid a lot of money to do it—the question was whether they'd be able to do better than last time. Their own continued welfare depended on how well this album sold. Public appearances were already being set up along with possible tour dates should they finish within a certain timeframe.

"Now let me check you out," Quint said once the pleasantries were out of the way.

"Do we have to do that now?" Malachi complained.

"Oh, it's very important we do this now. Better to be proactive about these things. You've been keeping up your appointments to the dermatologist?"

"Well, not really. Totally slipped my mind."

There were a lot of things that Quint wanted him to do regularly, but it would conveniently "slip his mind" if he didn't feel like doing it.

"I can tell," Quint said looking at him closely, "Luckily, you're still young so you can get away with that stuff, but you better not make that a habit. You know the best way to avoid wrinkles is to not have any in the first place.

"Yes, so you've told me before," Malachi said wearily.

Quint touched a few strands of his dark hair with a tsk. "Straight, boy, always straight hair—I know it's a pain to keep up, but it's essential. It's part of the brand."

When Quint spoke of "brand", he meant the image that Malachi was known for, the "him" that the world was meant to see which included his personality and appearance as well as his attitude and musical style. This was what his fans wanted to see, this was what the world knew him to be.

"And what if I decided I'd let it simply be curly?" Malachi said nonchalantly with a grin just to annoy the other.

"You want to look like an unkempt foreigner, some low-bred orphan then that's your prerogative. I bet you a hundred dollars they'd be more concerned about that than your actual music, mark my words."

Malachi frowned at the other, knowing that he was probably right. This wasn't new information, but he'd forgotten how frank Quint could be about such things. He didn't have time to soften things, he simply said as he wanted and Malachi never complained about it, he simply accepted it. He didn't tell Quint about the many times he'd looked into a mirror and feel disgusted with his own appearance, sometimes he wasn't even sure he was looking at himself; the image that he had in his mind became too warped and blurry to refer to. Quint wanted him to look a certain way and that was the only thing which kept him afloat as his own opinion of himself became nearly nonexistent. And Quint had to be right—because other people would give him compliments. Yet the issue remained unresolved as his own self-image became unrecognizable, alien and grotesque. He did as he was told. He followed conventions. Fashion was one thing, but everything else besides that dealt with one's appearance was another thing altogether. He avoided staring into a mirror as much as he could or paying it much attention—he was frightened of what he might find there.

He kept these things to himself from everyone else, even Bra, even Pan. He knew it wasn't normal and he did not want to make much ado about it. He functioned as if these thoughts didn't plague him and he became an expert in disguising its presence.

"I'll see to a hairstylist soon enough," Malachi said back with a shrug. It was a simple thing to do. This would make people like him; this was beauty.

Malachi was used to this sort of thing so it did not feel odd for the other to be inspecting him so closely in the way one might inspect a car before purchasing.

"Don't worry, you'll thank me later down the road. Now what's this? You look like you haven't been sleeping well."

"I haven't," Malachi admitted.

"You know they have medication for that sort of thing. I suggest seeing a doctor about that—you'll need your rest from here on out."

Malachi gave the other a solemn nod just as the other lifted his shirt a little to see the state of his physique. Malachi could tell from the other's expression that he was not impressed with what he saw.

"Now, I understand you've gained a bit of muscle which isn't a bad thing, but it has to be way more defined than that—none of that in-between stages. You either lose it or get some more definition—it's easier to do the latter. What's with all the bruises?"

Malachi grinned despite himself. "Extreme sports."

"Hm? Didn't know you were into that. Well, nothing make-up can't fix, but I'd take it easy on the sports for now lest you do irreparable damage to yourself."

"Yes, I'll isolate myself into a room full of pillows," Malachi said with some mirth.

"You know what I mean, boy," Quint said with a bit of edge to his tone.

"Of course," Malachi replied with exaggerated pleasantness that he was sure the other noticed. "I'll try not to get myself into trouble."

"Alright," Quint said with an exasperated sigh though satisfied since he asked no more questions on the subject. "Mentally—how are you doing?"

It was a loaded question, but Malachi knew what the man wanted. He was hardly ever mentally one-hundred percent—not when he habitually thought too deeply on things, not when his own abnormal upbringing gave him little stable foundation to stand on. Quint wasn't asking about those things which could not be fixed. Even so, Malachi knew he was not exactly in a good place and he would hard-pressed not to disclose this to the man. There was no sense in hiding things from Quint—he'd always been full disclosure with the man and he saw no reason to change things now. "Not entirely well," Malachi said slowly, "I just broke up with a long-time girlfriend of mine and it's been difficult coping."

"I see," Quint said with uncharacteristic understanding in his eyes. "Bra Briefs, is it? Don't look at me like that—you know it's hard to keep things under wraps. Media's been having a field day about it. I hate to say it, but it's probably for the best. It's notoriously difficult to keep up with datinga family when you already have a long-standing relationship with music. You'll be more focused and more creative. Did you love her?"

"More than anyone else," he said back without hesitation.

Quint gave him a sympathetic look. "I have a doctor I want you to see for that."

"A therapist?" Malachi asked.

"No time for all that. A doctor that can prescribe you something that can help you get over that faster. You'll need it, trust me. So what happened? How did you guys end up calling it quits?"

He pursed his lips before speaking. "The same reason as always."

"There's medication for that too," Quint said with a knowing look

"I don't think that would work," Malachi said dismissively.

"It's not a physical thing," Quint said slowly, "We know that already. Everything works just fine, nothing wrong with your hormones, but mentally that's what's different. This would be a neurological drug."

"I don't know if I'd feel comfortable taking something like that on a daily basis."

"You could go a step further and make it permanent."

Malachi looked at the other thoughtfully. "Remind me again one day when I'm utterly desperate. It's too late anyhow."

"Alright," Quint said, "Just want you mentally prepared for all of this. If there's anything that you need or if you happen to change your mind about anything, all you have to do is ask. Now are you ready to work?"

"I've been ready ages ago. Let's make some magic today."

"That's what I like to hear."

They had quite a few songs on the table at the moment. Malachi had already looked at a few of them liking how some of them sounded. Some were right down his alley, some were a little riskier. They only had a vague idea of what this album's overarching theme would be, but they both agreed that it had to be different from the last two and it had to be edgier and less bubblegum and dance tunes.

"You said, you wanted to have more input," Quint said as they discussed which ones they'd be focusing on today.

"Yeah," Malachi said with a raised eyebrow looking at the sagely man.

"Well then, let's see what you got. Write me some songs and I'll put the music to it. We'll see where it goes from there."

Malachi was momentarily speechless.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Quint asked probably not sure how to gauge the other's quiet reaction.

"Yes, yes, it is. I'll have something for you very soon."

"Remember, don't make it so complicated—it's just a song. It has to be easily digestible and it also doesn't have to make complete sense. It just has to feel right."

"I got you," Malachi said with a nod. "I understand."

Even during the session that morning, Malachi was bursting with excited energy over the prospects of having more involvement in what would be on this album. He was sure that he understood the gist of how to write a decent song, he'd seen how it was done countless times. This time would be different from his earlier attempts. He'd take greater care to have a subject in mind as he wrote. In fact, his hands were itching to start writing something down right in that instant, but he knew he'd have time later. There was one thing that he really wanted, however: —a duet and he wanted it to be with Marron. That would be perfect. The icing on the cake. Midway through the session that day, Malachi declared this to Quint who was a bit dubious about bringing in an unknown.

"Trust me," Malachi said reassuringly, "She's a natural. She has a beautiful voice."

"But would it pair well with your voice? Yours is a very specific kind of sound." You can't just have a duet with any old nice sounding voice."

"I think so. There's only one way to find out," Malachi said.

"Alright," Quint said relenting, "Bring her in—I want to hear her for myself."

That was all the cue that Malachi needed. While they were taking a recess, Malachi stepped outside to see if she was available on such short notice. He hadn't realized it until now, but ever since he'd heard her sing, he'd wanted to sing along with her. Just hearing her voice was inspiring. He needed that right now more than he had anticipated.

The phone rang and rang before sending him to voicemail. With an exasperated sigh, he called thrice more. Malachi was amazed at how easily his excitement could die down after a few missed calls. He had no idea what Marron could be doing at this time. He knew so little about her that she could be doing anything. He called her once more and this seemed to do the trick.

"Who is this? Please stop—"

"It's me Malachi." He'd forgotten that he'd obtained her number through Pan instead of asking her. The night had ended so quickly that he didn't have the chance to get her number and later on he'd asked Pan for it.

"Malachi? You really have my number? World famous popstar Malachi deems me important enough to have in his contact list?" Marron asked with a laugh.

There was some yelling in the background in which Marron yelled back to with a bit of hositilityhostility.

"My boyfriend doesn't believe me," Marron said drily. "This isn't the best time to be calling me though."

"I need you right now," Malachi began in earnest.

"What?" Marron asked mystified.

"I want to do a duet with you for my next album."

"A-Are you serious? This seems so out of the blue."

"I know. Sorry for the short notice, but it just came to me. Are you busy now?"

"Well…um…I—right now's not a great time. I don't have a ride."

Malachi was slightly confused by this as he'd bought her a new car last time they were out, but he decided it wasn't worth mentioning. "That's alright. I can come pick you up."

There was more silence over the phone, but he could still hear yelling in the background.

"Marron—what's wrong?"

"Now's not a good time okay?" Marron said after Malachi heard what sounded like something loud and glass hitting a wall.

"Wait, Marron—"

But the call ended abruptly. He vaguely thought about calling her back, but he'd heard her loud and clear. He knew, however, that he couldn't just let things be especially when his common sense was telling him that something wasn't right. He knew her to be a secretive woman who didn't necessarily share things even if it was 's harmless information. She wouldn't tell him what was happening even if he got on his knees and begged and certainly not if he called her again. She hadn't sounded like herself on the phone. He had to make sure she was alright.

He knew a few people who might know where she lived, but he knew only one person he could ask with the least amount of repercussions. This being the middle of the day, however, he knew Pan might be busy. He called her anyway.

"Come on, come on," Malachi muttered to himself as he began to pace.

He was placed on voicemail. Instead of ending the call and trying again, he decided it would be better to leave her a message. A constantly ringing phone likely would have been extremely inconvenient.

"Hey, Pan, it's me Malachi. Call me as soon as it's convenient or text me—whichever. I think Marron might be in some trouble. I need to know where she lives so I can be sure. When I called her, it sounded like things were being thrown around."

He ended it at this and then began towards his car. He eventually sat in it with growing anticipation. He turned on some music, but it did little to calm him. Anything could be happening right now to Marron and there was nothing he could do for it. The more he thought about it, the more his distress mounted. Why would anything be crashing to the ground? Why was there yelling? What kind of boyfriend did she really have? Or better yet, what was it she did all day? Did she even work?

When his phone alerted him, he received a text from Pan. She may be in trouble, please make sure she's alright. Her address is…Pan typed out the Marron's exact address and Malachi easily placed this into his GPS. It was an hour and a half away. Thank you., he texted back to her quickly. With this he drove off speedily. Pan asked far less questions than expected. She likely knew something about what was going on and was hoping he could handle things. He supposed the reason she hadn't called was because she was in the middle of something. This was good enough anyway.

Malachi swerved easily around cars trying to make the best time possible. His anxiousness only increased as he pressed on the pedal more and more. He didn't have enough evidence to go off of to conclusively say she was in danger, but that gave him little comfort. Not knowing was far worse. After about an hour, he found himself in a modest neighborhood. He hoped he'd be stopping somewhere around there, but the GPS continued to take him deeper and deeper until he found himself in a neighborhood that was only a step up from the projects. The houses looked old and rundown. They were all in need of refurbishing. A few properties already had "For Sale" signs out in the front yard. Some mailboxes leaned to the side, yards were unkempt and needed care, house numbers were either missing or hard to see—the place he was looking for happened to be of the latter. In faded numbers, however, he found the right place and carefully he drove his conspicuous top down convertible onto the empty driveway.

Without further ado, he climbed out of the car and made his way quickly to the front door. He was out in public with no disguise, he reminded himself. He had to make this quick. With luck, no one would notice. He hadn't seen any curious onlookers so far. The nearby residents seemed to keep to themselves. He knocked on the door with a bit of strength, but when he heard yelling, he dispensed with the formalities and opened a surprisingly unlocked door.

He rushed to where he heard the noises and his eyes beheld something that was beyond anything he'd been expecting. Marron was kicking and screaming, helplessly huddled on a bed as a large, rotund man continued whaling on her with large, puffy fists that struck relentlessly. Without even a second thought, Malachi grabbed the nape of the large man's dingy green T-shirt and threw him forcefully onto the ground.

"NO, NO, NO!" Marron began yelling. "Don't hurt him!"

Malachi barely heard her over his own raised voice telling off the now pitiful man. "Who the hell do you think you are!? How dare you?! Give me one reason why I shouldn't snap your neck right here and now?!" He'd lifted the crumbled man easily off the ground.

"Please, Malachi, don't kill him!" she shouted desperately. He felt her pulling on his arm now. "Please. Don't," she pleaded.

She was crying openly now, but all Malachi could see was the man he held tightly in his grip. The shirt was beginning to tear into his skin as his grip tightened.

The brown-haired man was sputtering, barely making comprehensible words. "M-M-Malachi?" he managed to say. "…s-some kin-kinda…twilight zone…" The man's pine green eyes seemed glazed over.

Malachi raised his other hand now tightly clenched, totally capable of knocking his head clean off his neck. Marron cried out in horror likely knowing what the other was intending.

"You don't understand. He didn't mean it!" She was pulling harder now, but she might as well had been pulling on a ton of bricks.

Malachi watched the man's eyes roll back and become limp in his grasp. He held him a moment longer before letting the man slip from his hand and drop to the ground unceremoniously. He watched as Marron scrambled over to the man's side crying and calling out his name in a moving show of concern and sorrow.

"Marron, let's go—we can't stay here," Malachi said holding out his hand to her.

She ignored him as she continued to cry.

"Marron!" Malachi said sharply causing her to flinch. He used a calmer voice upon seeing this. "Come on, you need some fresh air."

"I can't leave him. I know you don't understand, but I just can't."

"I'll call for the ambulance—they'll make sure he's taken care of."

She turned to look at him after a moment. "You promise?"

"Yes," Malachi confirmed. He gestured again for her to take his hand.

After a final look at the man, she took up his hand and Malachi helped her up. Carefully, he made his way through the house with Marron at his side. It wasn't until they stepped out into the sunlight that he could see the bruising she'd gathered on her exposed arms—defensive bruising from trying to protect herself from his hefty punches. It made him angry just thinking about it. Against someone so defenseless, what excuse could anyone have for attacking such a person? More importantly, why was Marron so concerned for him? Once they got to the car, he opened the passenger's side and helped her onto the seat.

"Call them," Marron demanded, "Call them right now. He needs help."

"So do you," Malachi said as he took out his phone.

"I'll be fine. I have a senzu bean that I always keep close to me." She was fishing now in her pocket before Malachi stopped her with a gentle hand.

"If you take that now, you'll be hiding the evidence. You need to let them see what's happened."

"You're going to stop me?" Marron challenged the other.

Malachi looked at the other squarely, daring her to take out the miraculous bean. She gazed at him unabashedly without blinking as she found the bean and placed it in her mouth defiantly. He didn't have the heart to stop her not to mention the fact that he was hyperallergic to even the smallest presence of legumes. What would he have done anyway? Grappled it away from her? She'd been through enough already.

With a sigh, he called 911 and calmly gave the operator all the pertinent information. They would be on their way promptly. Malachi only mentioned that the man had fallen unconscious for unknown reasons and that he'd simply been visiting. Marron looked quite relieved. Her feet still touched the pavement as she sat sideways in the car seat. Her head leaned against the armrest.

"Always with your nice cars, rich boy," Marron said with closed eyes. She'd calmed down quite a bit.

"Marron, what happened back there?"

"How about you tell me how you found me out here? Did you have me tracked or something?"

"No—Pan was concerned and told me to make sure you were alright."

"I get it. You tricked her into telling you my address."

"I would have let the matter rest if I hadn't heard all that yelling in the background. Both of us was worried about you. I'm glad I came."

"Well, you got me. You have what you came for. Let's just go."

"You don't want to stay for the ambulance?"

"I know he'll be safe now. I don't need to be around when they come."

"Alright," Malachi said uncertainly.

He did as she asked and climbed into the car. He waited for her to pull her legs in and close the door. Slowly, he made his way out of the driveway and began making his way out of the neighborhood.

"Where did you want me to take you?" Malachi asked.

Marron snorted at this. "Don't try to act like you came out of concern. You want me to do some ridiculous singing gig with you."

"I do; minus the ridiculous part."

"I don't understand," Marron said with a laugh. "Why do you seem so fixated on me singing? Just like at the karaoke bar."

"Maybe no one's told you before, but your voice is exquisite, it's the most beautiful thing I've heard up close in a long time."

"You sure you're just not super biased? You do remember that I was the first person you heard upon waking from that coma."

"I had a feeling," he said, "But I was never sure. It was really annoying not knowing. It's as if, you didn't want me to know that. Must everything be so secretive with you?"

"Maybe you should try it sometimes. I don't know how you can stand having all your private information on display for everyone to see."

"I don't have any choice in the matter. The more I try to keep to myself, the more the tabloids have their way with things. It's a small price to pay, all things considering. I'd rather people know the truth than a fabricated lie."

"Well, I'm glad I'm not in your shoes," Marron said with a frown. "Something's always bothered me though ever since you woke up from your coma: Do you remember anything I said to you?"

Malachi was quiet for a while unintentionally making the other squirm a little in her seat. "Bits and pieces at first, anytime I managed to close my eyes. Mostly, I thought it was just odd little disjointed dreams only it felt as if it actually happened. It was a woman's voice so I didn't feel comfortable telling Bra about it so I just…kept it to myself."

"So you remember everything?" Marron asked worriedly.

"I guess," Malachi replied with a shrug.

"What do you mean, 'you guess'? You either do or don't."

"I don't know what 'everything' is to know. It all runs together. I'm not sure what comes first or last. My memory is pretty unreliable and it's not as if I've been desperately trying to remember. It sounded personal."

Marron who'd been looking at him steadily turned her head towards the window once again. "You must know then about my boyfriend."

"You talked about him a lot," Malachi said.

"He's never done anything like what you saw back there before. You have to believe me when I say that."

"I do. I don't recall you ever saying something like that, but even if that wasn't the case—Pan would not have let this continue if this was happening all the time. She would have noticed. She would have stepped in."

"Pan, the do-gooder. She certainly would have done something. That woman doesn't know when not to stick her neck out."

"I think it's an admirable quality."

"It's annoying, but I trust her at the very least. Anyway, his name is Lucas and he was diagnosed with lupus last year and it's been difficult just trying to treat the symptoms. One of the new drugs they have him on must have changed him somehow. The local hospital near here—they'll know who he is. They'll know how to treat him."

"How did you two meet?" Malachi asked. "He doesn't exactly seem like your type."

"Oh? And you know who my type is? He's a bit on the chubby side, but he's a teddy bear. I just want a guy who cares about me and he showed me that in abundance. We met in college. I wasn't looking for anyone. I never am. I bumped into him one day when I was late for class and he ended up walking me to it. I'd been so anxious before, so terrified about actually being late to class, but just like that he put me at ease. I know you probably don't believe me, but he's a kind-hearted man. I'd never met anyone like him before.

"Ever since he was diagnosed, he just hasn't been himself and they've switched medications on him many times. He used to be such a happy person and then he became so negative. He hardly leaves the house anymore and I always have to make sure he's alright. We pretty much exist on government money on account of his disability and losing his job. Lately, he's been becoming more and more aggressive. I think it's the steroids."

"Then he has to stop taking them," Malachi said.

"That's not an option. Not if he wants to continue living. That's the one thing that never changed."

"If that's the case, then—"

"Why do I think it's the steroids? Because it's the only thing that makes sense. They've had to increase his dosage and that's the only drug he takes that can actually explain what's happening."

"So he has to keep taking that and every time he does, it means that you'll continue to get hurt."

"You have no room to talk," Marron said haughtily.

"What are you talking about?"

"Says the guy who's in an emotionally abusive relationship with Bra, only it makes even less sense. Sorry, but I can't picture her as the kind-hearted type. She hardly cares about anything that isn't about her."

"You don't know her like I do," Malachi said defensively.

"On the contrary, I think I know her better than you. She made you feel less than a person, completely worthless. She made you feel like life wasn't worth living anymore—don't argue, I could tell from the look in your eyes. I've seen it before. That's what she's capable of doing even to the person who she claims to love and she'll continue to do that over and over again until it destroys you. She's toxic to anyone who ever gets close to her—she's only bearable in small doses."

"The person you're describing—that's not her at all. That's not how I remember her."

"I'm doing you a favor and telling you things that you need to hear. I didn't expect there'd ever be anyone foolish enough to stay with her for more than a few months yet here you are against all odds. Look at what she's already done to you. Have you forgotten about how she almost killed you?"

"How do you know about that?"

"For one, it was all over the news about you being hospitalized and this was while I knew full well that you were dating her. Bra told Pan. Pan told me. Tell me, Malachi, what would you do if you knew you were born with strength beyond most people? For the safety of others and having to live amongst everyone else and even wanting a relationship with someone who wouldn't be like yourself, wouldn't you try to at least have some control over it? She didn't care about those things because it wasn't something she liked doing. That was all it took for her to ignore it completely. She continually accidently breaks things and even hurts people, but to this day she sees no merits in being more accountable for herself."

"She didn't ask to be born that way," Malachi began.

"Sure, and I didn't ask for the sky to be blue yet I deal with it like everyone else. How difficult would it be for her to learn to control her own strength? I bet it would take no time at all. Aside from that, I'm sure it doesn't end there. Now look where you are: abandoned and alone."

"She's certainly not perfect," Malachi said after a moment, "And it does no one any good focusing in on the negative. I wasn't the best either."

"What are you going on about? Anyone who can put up with Bra for that long and make her brag about someone other than herself must have been beyond perfect—not in a literal sense, of course, but you know what I mean, as far as relationships go."

Malachi shook his head. "Whatever your opinion might be—it doesn't matter anyhow. Me and her are through."

"For now, until she gets tired of the whole breakup thing and calls you up again as if nothing ever happened."

"She wouldn't do that."

"Barring something miraculously life-changing happening to her, she'll soon realize just how limited her options really are and have enough sense to try and start over and you'll be the fool who will humor her."

"Both you and Pan have said similar things. I won't believe it until I see it. Besides, how did we get on this subject? We were talking about you, weren't we?"

"I'm done talking about me. You know too much as it is."

"So be it," Malachi said not willing to press the issue. "But I'm glad that you're here alive and well."

"I bet you are. Exploiting me for your own gain."

"I'm not forcing you to do it. You can say no if you want."

Marron laughed softly. "I'm only joking. Anyone would be honored to do a duet with you—I hope you know that."

"Well, I don't know about that—I'm just happy you agreed. It's like a dream come true."

"Seriously?" Marron asked with another laugh. "Are you just being modest to get on my nerves or are you always this way?"

Malachi gave her a side glance as he grinned to himself. "I can hear how I sound as I sing—I've listened to recordings of it played on the radio and I can't say I've ever been overly impressed. I've heard better. I just know that I enjoy doing it and I'm extremely grateful that others even care to listen. Sometimes it all just seems a bit surreal. Sorry if that gets on your nerves."

"Way too modest for a world-famous superstar. I'm surprised you don't have someone driving us. But I get it. That's why you've never lost your edge all these years because you always think you haven't done your best."

"I haven't done my best," Malachi said in agreement, "That's why I need you to sing with me. Maybe something special could come out of it."

"Maybe," Marron said with far less enthusiasm.

"It's not just for me. I think it'll be good for you as well. It won't be like how it was at the karaoke bar. It'll be a lot less people."

"Sure, Malachi, tell me anything. You want me to record something with you. It's just so short notice."

"I doubt we'll be recording anything today," Malachi said, "Quint just wants to hear you."

"Who's Quint?"

"The producer—the guy who puts the music to the words."

"Oh, I see. So is he like your boss?"

"No, it's a collaborative thing. If anything, M-town records is my boss. They pretty much own me—in a sense. That's where we're going."

"Malachi—owned by a record label," she said with a laugh. "Sounds more like you're a product than an actual person."

"Ah, well, it's a small price to pay. They just care about the numbers, but it's the only working environment I've ever known. It's not so bad. You don't have to worry about all that. All you have to do is sing."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Isn't it?"

"For you maybe," Marron said with a sigh, "I'm just interested enough to see where this goes. To be honest, you had me at duet."

Malachi felt her eyes on him again which drew a smile from him. "Good."

Marron took it upon herself to turn on the radio which the two of them listened to for the remainder of the trip and the music was often playing full blast; Marron loved cranking up the volume even more than what Malachi was accustomed to. Partway through, Malachi called up Quint to inform him perhaps a bit too after the fact that he would be late and that he'd ran into some issues along the way. The reasonably upset Quint soon calmed somewhat when Malachi reassured him that he was on his way and that he had Marron with him. Quint wasn't exactly thrilled, but Malachi found that he didn't care. He would hear her and come to the same conclusion as he—he hoped so anyway.

Once they arrived at the place, Malachi led her to the upstairs recording studio. It was like watching a kid in a candy store the way her eyes lit up with interest as she beheld the place. She kept pointing at things asking what this and that was and Malachi was all too eager to answer her. A place like this was nothing new to him, but it did still evoke a sense of wonder and respect for all the instruments and machinery that made music as it was now, possible.

"Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence," Quint said upon them entering the room. "And this is the woman you keep going on about?"

"The name's Marron," she said before Malachi could introduce the two. "You must be Quint."

"Very observant," the man said back. "Well, have at it then—let me hear you."

"Wait, right now?" Marron asked.

Malachi noticed immediately her nervousness and he stepped a little closer to her. "Don't worry, it's nothing," he said drawing her attention.

"What do I sing?" Marron asked, "I can't just do things on the spot."

Malachi thought for a moment. "How about the song you did for karaoke last time? It seemed like you really liked that one."

"I do, but…" Marron's eyes travelled to Quint who watched her with expectant eyes.

She seemed to visibly clam up as she stood a little a taller. One of her fists clenched for a moment as her expression became unfathomable. Then just like that she turned on her heels and began storming towards the exit. Quint shrugged dismissively having nothing further to say on the matter.

"Just wait," Malachi said to him just before he followed the suddenly riled woman. "Hold on, Marron," Malachi said with a slightly raised voice when he was close enough to her. "What happened back there? Where are you going?"

She stopped in her tracks when she heard his voice. "I can't do it, Malachi. Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to come."

"That's fine," Malachi said. This caused her to turn back to him. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to and you don't have to apologize. You're free to leave."

"Silly, I can't go anywhere—you're my ride," she said as she approached him again. "So, I guess I'm just stuck here. It's a whole lot different when you're in a room by yourself singing—no one's watching you, no one can judge. Now, people can hear me. And Quint is literally there to judge me."

"Don't mind him. Pretend like he's not there. I'll even look away like last time."

Marron didn't respond directly to him. With a huff, she simply strolled past him taking up one of his hands and pulling him along as she made her way back to where Quint stood now impatient. They stood next to a table filled with music sheets and other musical paraphernalia. On this, Malachi leaned back against with hands pressed onto the table from behind as Marron stood before Quint once again.

"I need a mic," Marron declared.

Malachi looked onto the table and found a pencil with a well-formed eraser tip. He handed this to Marron.

"Perfect," she said with a grin.

Malachi started to look away, but Marron approached him and shook her head no. She placed a gentle hand upon his chin and turned his head towards her.

"This is for you because I know you really want to hear me sing."

Malachi decided not to say anything further as she gave him a knowing look. There was a brief pause in which he was sure she was now convincing herself to go through with it. Her gaze upon him became quite intense and he made sure to give her an encouraging smile. He wanted her to feel safe and that he'd like anything she'd manage to do that day.

Then she started singing. There was a nervous shake to her voice in the beginning, but when she finally returned his smile her voice noticeably improved. To Malachi, it was simply magnificent. It felt as if they were the only two in the room and he was experiencing everything right along with her. By the time she got to the hook, she'd moved closer still to him so that the "mic" was in his vicinity as well. She wanted him to join her and he did not leave her hanging. It was a hook which repeated the same phrase four times—You are, the only exception—, she sang the first, he sang the second, she the third, and together they finished the forth iteration. Then they sang the second verse together:

Maybe I know, somewhere
Deep in my soul
That love never lasts
And we've got to find other ways
To make it alone
But keep a straight face

And I've always lived like this
Keeping a comfortable, distance
And up until now
I had sworn to myself that I'm content
With loneliness

Because none of it was ever worth the risk

His often sharp, distinct voice was softer and more round here as he consciously tried to match the tone she'd set. It was a sound often used in slower tempo songs like this one. He couldn't stop himself from smiling because it was as if he was floating on clouds singing with someone who's voice he adored. She seemed to appreciate his efforts as well as they moved into the hook again doing it the same way as last time. Then at the emotionally-fueled bridge, he let Marron take center stage as he knew that she'd fully invested herself in the song. She could probably hear the music in her own head as did he. Then he joined her again for the hook, but that was when Quint cut them off.

"Alright, alright, I've heard enough," Quint said.

Marron held his gaze steady, but it was only when she turned away to look at Quint that the spell was broken.

"Your voice is decent enough," he said. "But more importantly, it seems to work well with his. I see a bit of intimacy between you two and it comes across in the vocals. I think that would work for a single."

"Decent, he says," Malachi said with a grin.

"I call it like I hear it," Quint said with a shrug.

Marron had handed Malachi the pencil with a triumphant look on her face. "There, I did it—am I done now?"

"Yep, that's all I needed from you today, miss," Quint said as he looked over at Malachi now. "Well, this is your little project. Bring me the lyrics to this little duet and we'll go from there."

"That won't be a problem," Malachi said unperturbed by the man, "I know I'll come up with something."

He was very confident of this fact even though he had nothing at this point. He knew he just needed a few hours to himself and he'd be writing out words that simply came to him. He was inspired and he now had a purpose.

There were still quite a few hours left in the session that day and Marron was interested enough to stay the whole time despite Malachi offering to have someone take her wherever she needed to go. Usually sessions would last even longer than it did that day, but it was the first day and they'd been flying a bit blind, throwing things into the air and bouncing ideas off of one another. Some they kept, many they tossed. By the end, of the day, Malachi had a more succinct picture of how the album should sound and what kind of songs they should be going for. All that was left was the words—a trifle issue at the end of the day. Feeling was something that came about from the music itself and the tone that he set, the words were the icing on the cake and that icing could be as decadent as he so chose.

The sun had just set by the time they left the place and Marron was far more energetic than she had been upon entering the place. Being surrounded by music all day had done wonders for her overall mood.

"I mean, I can't imagine doing this for a living, but I can see why someone could do it. I don't know if I'd be able to contain myself after a while."

"You'd get used to it," Malachi said knowingly. "You'd still enjoy it, but eventually it would become more commonplace, more normal."

"And I never want that to happen," Marron said as they walked to the car.

"Well, if you ever change your mind, you can always call either myself or Quint."

"Are you offering me a job?" Marron asked quizzically.

"I'm just offering you choices," he said back smoothly.

Marron shook her head. "Call it what you want, but I'd never want to be in the spotlight, not for very long. I don't want my business all out there. You realize I can just do a quick internet search and I pretty much know everything about you."

They climbed into the car then.

"You would just know the facts and a few quotes here or there, but you wouldn't know me per sé."

"Splitting hairs," she said with a sigh. "Even with all that money, this still isn't the kind of life for me. Right now, I just want to see how Lucas is doing. I've…kind of neglected him today. I didn't mean to stay away so long."

"I'll get you there. Just tell me where you need to go."

"What about you? Don't you have some prior engagements?"

"Just to go home at night, make sure Jensen's alright. I have someone there watching him until I get back."

"Oh," she said thoughtfully. "So it's just you and Jensen these days."

"It's not nearly as depressing as it sounds," Malachi said starting up the car and beginning to pull out.

"I wasn't trying to make it sound that way. I think it's nice. It sounds stress-free. I bet it's a far cry from having to deal with Bra day in and day out."

"Alright, I get it, you're staunchly against her. But," he continued as he thought further on it, "You're right. It's been relaxing. I'm not used to having someone, let alone a child, love me so unconditionally. There's hardly anything I can do that will ever upset him for long. I come home and expect only hugs and kisses from a kid who should probably be in bed a lot sooner than ten at night."

"You're going to make me barf after that last sentence. Geez, non-edgy superstar."

"Shall I change the station for the sake of my very expensive upholstery?" he asked referring to the leather that covered the inside of his car.

"Let me just say this, Malachi," she said as she turned her head to the window. "It's not the end of the world not being with Bra and when she asks you once again to be with her—and I know that will happen; stop looking at me like that—you ask yourself first if it's worth it, if it's worth sacrificing the happiness you're building for yourself now. If you can honestly say yes, then by all means go back to her—but if you find you can get along quite well without her, then don't put yourself through the torture."

"I'll keep that in mind," Malachi said after a short pause.

"Good, that's all I want to hear."

"By the way, what happened to that car I got you?" Malachi asked completely changing the subject to something that had been bothering him since he'd driven to her place.

"I sold it," she said simply. "Had to. We really needed the money. Thanks to you, we still have a place to live and it's all paid off."

"But you still need a car to drive in, right?"

"I don't need a car. Not really. There's all sorts of public transportation."

"None of them as convenient as having your own."

"What are you getting at?" she asked with slight annoyance.

"I'm going to get you another car," he said matter-of-factly.

"After pretty much spitting on your gift last time? You going to keep doing stuff like that for me?"

"I know that you really need it. I know that you're in a really tight spot and I'd love to help."

"Lucas'll start getting the wrong idea if you keep this up."

"Then explain it to him so he understands. If you need anything at all, just call me. I'm notoriously bad with keeping up with people, but don't ever feel like just because I haven't called you that I don't still care about you. How would it look like if I just let one of my friends continue to struggle as if I can't do anything to help?"

"So we're friends now?"

"Aren't we?" he asked keeping his eyes peeled to the road. He didn't have the nerves to look at her.

Then Marron laughed. "Of course we are!" she said playfully fisting his shoulder. "I'm totally going to be friends with the guy who bought me a car no questions asked. But let me make this clear, you didn't have to do all that to impress me or to convince me that you were worth spending time with. Pan gave you the thumbs up and I trust her judgement—that's all it takes. Plus, you're kind of fun to be around and not totally annoying."

Malachi relaxed quite a bit when she said this and chanced a glance at her. Clearly, she was amused with his antics. Maybe he'd missed something once again, but she didn't divulge him as she quickly changed gears. They hadn't eaten all day and Marron wanted something quick and hot.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch. He'd taken her back to her place where Lucas waited for her. Only at the insistence of Marron, did he decide to not enter the home with her. He did, however, sit outside in his idling car for a bit, tuning in his senses to make sure nothing untoward happened. Right before he decided to leave, Lucas stepped out on the lit porch and waved good-naturedly. The aggression that Malachi had seen before was completely absent. Malachi let down his window and waved back. He didn't wait for the man to do anything further before putting his car in reverse. He wasn't sure he could stomach being around such a guy for long. Even knowing that it wasn't his fault completely, it did little to squelch his disgust. Not too long ago, he'd been the same way—Malachi wondered how Bra could even stomach him.


AN: Not sure what happened with that last sentence LOL. But I've been having internet issues. I remember that line too-thought I deleted that somewhere earlier in this chapter. Anyways. Fixed. Thanks for noticing that SierraLarson.