It Could Be Worse
Episode 14: Race For Your Lives
By Sulia Serafine
[1-28-01. A Protector of the Small fanfic set in an alternate universe; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me.
Oh, one more thing: BAD LANGUAGE (I. E. cursing, swearing…). You have been warned!
E-mail me at silverwLng@aol.com, okay?
P. S. Well, here it is! I'm so proud of this chapter. I know I took a long time (and must have gotten thirty-something reviews for me to hurry it up. But I really, really, really wanted this chapter to be PERFECT, so that's why it took so long. That, and homework, and my race this Saturday (Rain, rain, go away! Come again on a non-race day!) I apologize for ALLO as it is currently archived here at FF.net. I have to get the hang of this new chaptering system they insist that we use. As far as I've noticed, ICBW is archived in chapters correctly. Thanks for all the reviews! Keep 'em coming!]
Keladry sat leisurely in shotgun, fiddling with the radio to find the news report. It was the same car Faleron had taken the night before and seemed good and reliable for the trip. She turned her head to see how everyone else was doing. Roald and Lalasa were continually talking amongst themselves, every now and then holding hands while Cleon was seated behind the driver's seat, rolling his eyes and staring grumpily out the window.
"Why do I have to sit with the lovebirds?"
"Because you still can't drive and I can," Faleron said as he got into the car and turned the ignition. The car roared to life. He shut the door and leaned his head out the window. "Stone! Where are we headed?"
"To the next dot on the freaking map."
"Okay, okay! Man, he's in a bad mood." Faleron looked down at the crude navigation system built into the car. He was used to the top of the line system in the old silver hover car. He turned to Keladry. "Can you make out what that next one says?"
She squinted. A scratch on the screen's surface covered the flashing red dot on the screen. At first, she thought it was dirt, but when she couldn't rub it off with her sleeve, she shook her head. "No. I guess we'll have to wait until we get there."
"Let's go already!" Cleon whined. "How long do I have to be stuck back here with these two, huh?"
"Oh, shut up," Lalasa said and jabbed him in the shoulder. She turned back to Roald and started talking again while he attentively listened. Cleon pretended to gag.
"Ow!"
Lalasa withdrew her elbow from his side. She stuck her tongue out. "You deserved it."
They traveled for six days through the countryside. The fields of long grass rippled like water rippling from the wind. The mountains in the distance seemed watchful from their constant presence. Keladry had the radio set to the news frequently, listening to updates on foreign affairs as well as local ones. She took to heart every crime that was committed, listening to the independent stories, solving them in her own head, and silently sympathizing with those who were clearly innocent. Cleon whistled songs, and even made some of his own since Faleron was busy driving. Roald and Lalasa spent a lot of time together. Her kidnapping had been a major turning point in their relationship.
"We're approaching the next town," Faleron announced in a dull voice.
Roald looked up. "Town or city?"
Faleron glanced down at the navigation screen. He also tried to wipe the screen. Having achieved nothing, he shrugged. "Um… a little bit of both?"
"Then let's go already!" Cleon kicked the back of Faleron's seat.
"Quit it, I'm driving!"
"Ice Cream Pants…"
"Grasshopper, what have I told you? Be--"
"Oh shut up, Fal!"
~~
The sight before them impressed Keladry. Their destination was as small as a town, but resembled something like a mini-city. She would use the term suburb, but it didn't fit this place right. Walking up to the edge of this town was deceptive. You almost thought it was a wide city, and not a small town. There were restaurants, fueling stations, shops and stands. And then, there were apartment complexes, and even a school. But all of it was terribly advanced compared to most small towns. In the distance, Keladry could even see a huge arena.
Joren stiffened and took off his helmet. He seemed very uncomfortable to Keladry. He never was, so it was easy to see the difference. "What is this place called?"
Faleron ducked back into the car and checked their map. "It is… Galla."
He turned his head sharply. "Near the River Drell?" The thief nodded. Joren scowled and narrowed his blue eyes. "We are not staying here. What's the next spot on the map?"
Keladry frowned. "Now, wait a second. Why is this place no good?"
"It looks fine to me," Lalasa chimed in.
He glared at the two of them. "It doesn't matter why. We're leaving."
"No. I want to know what's so bad," Keladry folded her arms. "Is there a high crime rate? Do notorious gangsters and assassins live here? Maybe the government is too corrupt for us to handle? Seriously, Stone, what is it?"
He didn't respond. She dropped her arms to her side. "Well, then. If there aren't any threats, we're staying. Let's go find a hotel."
Cleon yawned and stretched. "I think there's a hotel there beside the arena. Can you see it?" He pointed. "Stand on your tip-toes. You can barely make out the sign."
Once again, Joren spoiled the suggestion. "There's a cheap motel right here, Kennan. We stay here."
They went on over to the motel and got two rooms once again. This time, Cleon and Joren were sleeping on the brown carpeted floor. Then, Keladry and Lalasa split a double in the next room. Later in the afternoon, Faleron left to sell the car at a junkyard. He wasn't too confident of getting a good price for the used vehicle, but any money they could get was good enough.
Not too long after that, those left realized they needed jobs. The couple talking quietly in the corner was picked, since they had seemed most comfortable getting jobs in Tyra. When Lalasa and Roald started to leave, they were stopped before they could step out onto the street.
"Why can't we go get jobs here?" Lalasa asked, irritated.
"Don't enter your names anywhere, and that includes job applications," Joren simply said. "We can live off the money from the car."
Roald folded his arms. "I don't think so. It's an old car, and money runs out fast with us."
"Just do it," he hissed and walked inside his room. He slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing all around.
The two exchanged confused glances. Lalasa shivered. "Cold as ice."
~~
Days passed. Faleron was able to sell the car for a reasonably good price, but having a hard time concealing it was a stolen car. The money was used by Lalasa to buy food and supplies. And they stayed permanently at the edge of town. Joren would not leave the area of the motel. He stayed with his bike most often times, in the shadow that the building cast.
Keladry was lying down stomach-flat on her bed, trying to get some sleep when someone tapped her shoulder. She rolled over and opened her eyes. Four people gazed down on her. Her eyes widened and she sat up quickly. Something had to be wrong. "What? What happened?"
"We're running out of money," Roald began.
"And we can't get jobs," Lalasa added
"We have to sell some of our stuff," Cleon nodded. "And Mr. Attitude's bike has to go first!"
She blinked. "What?"
Faleron sat down beside her. He drummed his fingers on his knee. "Okay. So we know the bike is important to him and all, but it's one of the unnecessary things that we can sell! All it does is cost us money with maintenance, so why not sell it?" Before she could answer, he went on to prove his point. "The clothing we have, the food we have, and the supplies… it's necessary. We don't have a car anymore. That means the five of us are on public transportation. Why does Mr. Stone get his own bike?"
Keladry fidgeted under the scrutiny of her fellow companions. They were all turning to her to solve the problem? "It's his bike. Don't talk to me."
They exchanged glances. Lalasa whispered to Cleon. He nodded. "But, you see, Kel, the money he spends could go towards our living costs. And--"
"And?" She narrowed her eyes. "It's not my problem. The bike belongs to him, so go talk to him." She lied back down and turned on her side. "I'm really tired. So if you guys could just leave?"
Faleron shook her by the foot. She kicked at him lightly.
"Hey, stop that. Let me sleep."
"We want you to talk to him," Roald said finally. Keladry looked up at him. She was struck first with disbelief. They actually wanted her to go up to Joren and tell him to sell his bike? Then, panic came. He'd kill me. No, worse, he'd kill me and send my body into a volcano. And after that, hysterics arrived.
"Oh, you're… you're not actually going to make me…" she stammered. She caught hold of herself. What was she doing? She was better than that. Keladry grudgingly put on her blank mask, letting them know she was thinking about it. They waited patiently for her to speak. "So, you want me to march up to him," she paused, "and demand he sell his bike for the good of our group?"
"Yes," they replied in unison.
She got up from the bed and started walking to the bathroom. "You can forget it. I don't have a death wish."
"But Kel!" Cleon pleaded. "We need the money! And he won't let us get jobs for some stupid, stupid reason-- why not?" He beat her to the bathroom door and stood in the doorway. She glared at him before shoving him aside and entering the bathroom. "Please, Kel? Please? I'll never ask you anything else for as long as I live."
He almost heard a snort from the other side of the door.
"Please, just do it before it gets too late. It's like," Lalasa glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "Four in the afternoon. We'll be behind you every step of the way! Well, not really, but we'll be there in spirit!"
"That's really encouraging," Cleon rolled his eyes.
"Like you could do better."
Faleron made a move to exit the room. "Just think about what we said, Officer. Talk to Stone. He's your partner-- not ours."
Keladry stared at the door. She listened to her friends' retreat one by one. How could they do this to her? She didn't remember agreeing in a contract to be the one to handle Joren Stone. Just because they were too afraid to do it, didn't mean they had to dump the burden onto her. The thought was thoroughly frustrating.
"Sell the Black Knight?" she whispered to herself. "It wouldn't be cared for as well as Stone care's for it. It wouldn't be right."
But as time wore on that day, Keladry couldn't stop thinking about it. And gradually, she submitted to the idea. Throughout the day, the others would glance at her and give a knowing look. She couldn't fathom how angry she was with the rest of them, picking her to do this. But she didn't show it. The female officer did not jerk away when one of them patted her on the back, nor remain silent when one was talking to her. She just let them believe that she was fine with what they were forcing her to do.
"You can do it, Fearless Leader," Cleon winked.
"Fearless leader, my ass," she thought. Even her thoughts were giving way to the resentful emotions within. Aloud she said, "Go eat dinner, Kennan."
He nodded. "Yeah, I will. So, when are you going to do it?" His eyes were lit with anticipation. "Well?"
"Just leave me alone. I'll get to it," she replied, bothered. He nodded and went to join the others inside the guys' motel room. Joren was behind the building-- not with his motorcycle. If he were standing right next to his motorcycle, Keladry would never approach him. She liked the bike, too.
"They were right," she thought, remembering a few days ago. "Mr. Attitude does have an influence. I like bikes now. Go figure." Keladry took a deep breath as she neared the corner of the motel. She cleared her head and raised her head high. As an afterthought, she straightened her posture and lengthened her strides. Now, where was he?"
"Hey, Stone," she called out to the shadows. A light clicked on from overhead. She flinched in surprise and held up her hand to shield her eyes from the sudden bright light. "Cut it out. I need to talk to you."
He dimmed the light a bit from where he stood next to the switch box. He was in his uniform, black and red. Standing against the black sky and wearing dark clothing made his head stand out. A full head of straight, white-blonde hair cut messily to his earlobes. His icy blue eyes were his most paralyzing features, stopping anyone in their tracks. And they were set under serious eyebrows and a high forehead.
Up until the end of her days, she could never forget how intimidating Joren Stone could be.
"What?" he asked in his low voice, hinting at the danger he was capable of.
She folded her arms and willed herself to be strong. "Everyone's been short on money these last weeks." She waited to see if he would say something. When he remained quiet, she went on. "We can't have jobs, and we can only pawn and sell things as far as two blocks from here."
He nodded. "So?"
Keladry coughed softly. "We want you to sell your bike."
"What? Oh, you're kidding me," Joren sneered. He approached her. "Why the hell should I sell my bike?"
"We need the money, and it's the biggest money-draining object we have."
He glared at her. "I have."
She tried to look him in the eyes, but it was getting difficult to do that and remain unfazed. "Don't be selfish, Stone. The rest of us are stuck on a public bus while you're cruising around on a bike? You're only hurting our financial standings by having us stay here with no source of income and this expensive hunk of metal--"
"Don't you call it a hunk of metal!" he yelled. "I'll do whatever the fuck I want!"
She growled. "Well, fine! Be like that! I'll go tell the others what a selfish bastard you are!" She paused on purpose and held up her hands. "Oh, wait. They already know that."
He shoved her against the brick side of the motel. She cried out in surprise. Keladry began to move, but Joren put one hand on the wall over her shoulder and pointed his finger at her with the other. "Don't push it, Mindelan."
His voice was seething with fury. His usually icy eyes were on fire. She gulped nervously, but didn't want to show it. She breathed calmly through her nose, clamping her mouth shut and pursing her lips. Her eyes never broke away from his. Absently, she was reminded from their first mission-- the little act in front of the entrance so they could observe Ozorne and Kieran. While that time was covered with dislike and irritation, now was drowned in loathing and something far worse.
"What are you going to do?" she challenged, slightly crazed. The adrenaline was pumping inside of her. She had to be insane! Keladry darted out her tongue to wet her lips and nodded her head to the direction of his bike. "You know and I know that the bike is not worth all of us starving. So, if you can get it off its freaking pedestal--"
"Oh, you shut your mouth! Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what to do?"
She ground her teeth. "Stop with the superiority act! I'm so damn tired of it! I'm tired of everything!" She leaned forward. "In fact, everyone is!"
"In that case," he said in a less severe voice. It rose back up to its threatening level with the next few sentences. "In that case, they should be here, too-- not sneaking around behind my back. All of you sicken me! You, especially, being the thorn in my side who's screwed up ever since we got assigned! And Little Miss Perfect, if you have something to say about this, then say it to my face--"
" In. Your. Face." Keladry hissed. "In your face, Stone! I'm tell you this to your face, so don't start calling me a coward!"
He drew back his fist, a purely psychotic glint in his eyes. Her eyes widened and she tried to twist away. Joren's fist shot out, not at her, but intentionally at the brick beside her head. The wall absorbed the hit, but no doubt he could feel it in every little bone in his hand. Not a muscle in his face twitched when his knuckles struck the wall and started to bleed. In a quick motion, he pushed off from the wall and started to walk away, cursing to himself. Keladry took long breaths, trying to recover from the confrontation.
She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her vest closer around her and walking around the motel in the other direction to reach her room. And she still pursed her lips tightly. When they would ask her how it went, she would only glare at them for making her the one to take his verbal blows. And she would glare at them for not realizing how much it hurt.
~~
He was missing the next day-- him and the bike.
The rest of his belongings stayed untouched and unmoved in the guys' room. None of them saw him come in or even pass by. When he didn't sleep on the floor that night, they simply assumed he had gone to blow off some steam. They guessed he eventually would return and everything would be fine.
But everything was not fine.
Keladry sat on top of her bed, trying to watch the news report and pay attention. There was a new investigation on the safety of some hover cars and hover bikes. She groaned and turned the holo-screen off. She got up and paced around her room while Lalasa was busy cooking.
"Is that just a really, really late lunch?" she asked in a bored voice. Keladry eyed the clock. It was almost three in the afternoon. The shorter, dark haired young woman flashed a smile at her.
"Something like that. I heard something from the corner store when I went to buy milk," she grinned. Keladry couldn't believe how happy and cheery the Carthakian could be. Who would have thought the happiness of others could annoy Keladry Mindelan? She continued. "The arena not too far from here-- it's for racing. Special custom bikes like Joren's… the Black Shadow was built to race!"
"It's Black Knight," Keladry corrected. She frowned. "So, what are you saying?"
Lalasa turned off the mini-stove and set the pot down on another spot. She faced Keladry with a smile. "If Joren wants to keep the bike, all he has to do is race it and win! We've all seen him." She shrugged. "The guy may be a jackass, but he's fast-- really fast."
"You're right." She nodded. "He could keep it that way. So, when's the next race?"
"Tomorrow. They accept entries at any time, even up to five minutes before it begins. Isn't it perfect?" She sighed. "Now, if he would just get here so we can tell him… I feel so bad after last night."
"You feel bad?" Keladry smirked. "At least you didn't go one-on-one with him. That was terrible. I'd rather humiliate myself in front of a crowd of thousands than go through that again."
Her friend washed her hands in the sink. "Yeah, the guys and I are really sorry about that. We weren't thinking of how you would feel talking to Stone like that."
"I wasn't thinking of how I felt about it either," Keladry thought.
~~
She sat on top of an overturned bucket for mops around the back of the motel. It was time for dinner, and she couldn't find her appetite. So, why not sit outside and gaze at the stars? There wasn't a really good view of the constellations within any town or city. To get the clearest view, you had to be out in nature. In a field or on a hill with a telescope-- or just a blanket and a comfortable position to lie down upon it.
All of a sudden, she heard the revving of an engine approaching her. It was distinct. A motorcycle, not a car, was coming close. She knew right away that it was Joren. The lights were off, but the headlight from the front of the Black Knight Custom pierced through the darkness and fell upon his usual parking space.
She waited until he was parked and off the bike to flip the switch. The lights came on, rather brightly. She dimmed them and shut the lid of the metal box. "Where have you been?"
He took off his helmet and hung it on the back of the seat. "Like I'd tell you…"
Keladry sighed. "Yeah. I know." She got off the bucket and approached him steadily. "Everyone's changed their minds."
A brief look of amusement crossed his face. "Oh?"
"They found out that the arena in this town is especially used for custom bike racing. People come from all over and race here, and yet, the town isn't crowded by tourism." She paused. "It's interesting. Anyway, if you race and win, the guys will let you keep the bike. Sound okay?"
"They don't have any power over whether or not I sell," he spat and started walking away. She growled and jogged to catch up.
"Why not? You'll win! You love to race. All those speeding tickets are proof."
He turned on her as he removed his gloves. "I just don't want to race, all right? Now go away."
She stayed rooted to the spot while he continued to move away from her. "Isn't this irony at its best."
~~
The Next Morning:
"This guy's statistics are pretty impressive," Cleon said. He pointed to a box in Galla's Racing Program. "He's also in today's race. What do you think?"
Faleron wrinkled his nose as he leaned in to look at the print. "Garvey Runnerspring? Is he the best in there?"
"Seems so. Who do you want to bet for?"
He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I don't know. Runnerspring's record looks good. His number of wins is high and there are very few losses. But if Stone races… Hmm. We don't have his statistics."
"Maybe we can get Stone and here so we can records his stats."
"You mean-- willingly?"
"This is tougher than I thought."
Roald folded his hands behind his head. "Are you really going to bet on the race?"
"Of course!" Faleron grinned. "What kind of fellow would I be if I didn't bet?"
"Normal," Cleon muttered.
He laughed. "Now, now, Grasshopper, once you learn the ways of the secret art of betting, than you will also reach a higher plane of 'normality'. It's all in the chanting." He raised his arms up melodramatically. "Let us chant! To gamble is to take a chance. To take a chance is to live. To gamble is to take a chance. To take a chance is to live--"
"You're crazy!"
"And this is coming from a man who makes an idiot of himself in front of a crowd just to get attention?"
"I do not!"
Faleron turned to Roald. "Any comments?"
"He does," Roald smiled. He flexed his arm. "Come on, Cleon. Go ahead. Feel the biceps. Nice, eh?"
"Shut up! You two are ganging up on me!" the redhead protested.
The door opened. The three young men suddenly turned to look at Joren as he crossed the room, picked up a black duffel bag, and left again. Faleron took off his hat and held it to his chest.
"Now, that seemed kind of strange."
"Who cares! What I want to know is…"
~~
Keladry glanced out the window at the same time as Joren passed by. Without alerting Lalasa-- who was mending a hole in Cleon's shirt, Keladry got up and walked out. She gently closed the door and quickened her pace to catch up with her partner. When she did, she called out. "Stone! Wait!"
He stopped and faced her. "What now? Haven't you hassled me enough?"
"Listen, about the bike…"
"None of you have to fucking complain anymore," he said in a low, resentful voice.
She stood rigid. "And what does that mean?"
"I sold it at the dealership near the arena," he replied and began walking away again. She stared after him in shock for a few moments, then ran to catch up.
"Wait a minute! You did what?"
He glared at her. "You heard me. I sold it. So, leave me alone already."
"Y-you actually sold it?"
"Yes!" he hissed. "So go away! I don't want to hear any more of your damn righteous speeches on what's fair and what's costing us money. It gives me a headache."
She scratched her head and walked slightly behind him. "But, you're okay with it? Selling, I mean."
He didn't respond.
"You didn't have to."
They reached the corner store. Joren swung the door open, ringing the bell above the doorway. He walked through the last isle, picking up a case of something she couldn't tell. Keladry continued to follow him, much to his frustration. The cashier gawked at them and their weird clothing, but only read off their total amount when they went up to pay.
"Stop following me," he warned.
"Why did you sell? I thought that bike was important to you."
He still didn't respond to her question. "Look, I am walking out that door and you are not tagging along." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic card. "Here's the credit for the money the bike sold for. Take it and leave me alone." And with that, he brushed past her and strode out the door. Keladry stood there, with the card in hand until she finally shook her head and left the store as well. She headed in a different direction than him, with something on her mind.
~~
Joren walked aimlessly around Galla for the latter of that morning and early afternoon. He stopped only once to get a drink and then continued on. It was amazing that he didn't become tired. The old iron benches called to him, urging him to sit and to think about what was bothering him, but he couldn't. He couldn't stay still long enough for thoughts to be examined and re-examined.
The arena loomed over him, showing off its freshly painted walls and supports. Toward the back was a mural of a race, one man in lead with two others at his flank. Some parts of the faded mural were chipped away by age. It was disappointing they didn't take care of the mural. It was one of the more down to Earth touches of the structure. The rest was modern. The rest reeked of modern day efficiency and cold, emotionless metal.
Quite like him.
He didn't go near the arena, and seemed ever the more eager to get away from it as fast as possible when he realized he had arrived there. Every now and then, a person would walk inside, either to reserve their seats for the race or to check out the racers registered thus far.
The blonde biker stared at the ground as he walked, still glimpsing most of the world around him so he didn't crash into anything. Shortly after leaving the arena area, he arrived at a custom racing dealership. This building had plain glass windows that allowed a person to see the whole entire place without stepping inside. The lot in front of the dealership was crowded with motorbikes, and then a few motorcycles. Inside on display were the latest hoverbikes.
Joren liked all types of bikes. He was satisfied with the performance of hoverbikes, but nothing beat the sensation of the ground beneath you as you sped more and more into the unknown distance.
He moved to where his bike had been when he had sold it that morning. It was five hours later, and hopefully, no one had bought it. Maybe if he could spend the rest of the group's time in Galla coming to the window and staring at his bike, he could gradually let go and move on with his life.
Move on with his life? Was that how obsessed he had become? All these years, working and remodeling, and replacing, and upgrading-- all on this single bike, which now became a display in some dealership? It was insulting, but he didn't have much of a choice. He could not race, even if he wanted to. They would know.
And so, Joren looked up to the spot where his bike should have been propped up. There was one problem.
It was missing. The platform for which the Black Knight Custom X40 was placed was empty. The sleek black motorcycle was not to be seen throughout the store. He burst through the front doors. The salesman recognized him immediately, but spoke nothing and continued on with his paperwork.
"What the…" Joren cursed. He marched over to the front desk. "Where is it? Where's the Black Knight Custom?"
"Bought," the man replied heartlessly, more concerned with numbers and accounts than the distress of a young man. Joren banged his fists on the desktop.
"I can't believe this! Who bought it? It hasn't even been a day!"
The man looked up at him briefly and decided to help him out. He showed Joren a filled out form and pointed with his ballpoint pen. "She bought it."
Keladry Mindelan.
Joren stared at the paper. "What?"
"She bought it less than an hour ago. Insisted on taking it out right away."
He couldn't believe his eyes. He read the name over and over again, unable to keep his usual scowl upon his face. Something inside his chest was lifted. He even started to breathe easier. His bike was not to spend the rest of its days gathering dust in Galla. He walked out the dealership. He could barely hide his smirk.
"So, the screw-up is not so much a screw-up after all."
"Who are you calling a screw up?" a voice said from behind. He whirled around. Keladry leaned against the side of the Laundromat next door. Beside her was his black motorcycle. He decreased the distance between them in no time. Quickly, he ran his hands over the motorcycle, compulsively checking every last thing. She watched calmly, observing his change in attitude and expression.
"Where'd you get the money?" He asked while straddling the bike.
"The same money you got from selling it," she replied simply.
He shook his head. "What did the rest of the wimps say?"
She frowned at the word 'wimps', but let it slide. "They didn't even know you sold it. I didn't really have a reason to tell them."
"I still don't understand. Why did you buy it back if you knew I wasn't going to race?"
She shrugged. "Wish I knew. So," she hooked her thumbs into her pockets and came closer to him. "Can I go for a ride on my bike?"
He snorted derisively. "Your bike? Since when was this your bike?"
She tapped her foot and counted on her fingers. "Well, you gave me the money. The money became mine. I bought the bike with my money. Therefore, it is also mine. Does that clear it up for you?"
He rolled his eyes. "Sure…"
"Good. Now, get off. I want to check out my new bike," she said, making a shooing motion with her hand. He retained his smirk.
"Like I'd ever let you take out this bike by yourself."
She folded her arms. "Hey--"
"Get on."
She blinked. "What?"
"I said 'get on'. Are you deaf?" he gave her a once over. "You said you wanted to go for a ride, right? So, let's go. The Black Knight wasn't really meant to seat two, but you'll be fine." He pointed over her shoulder. "The back door to the dealership is always unlocked. Go in and borrow a spare helmet."
She eyed him distrustfully. She couldn't believe this was happening. "You're not going to leave while I'm getting it, are you?"
"I'm offended," he said, imitating Faleron. It was unreal the way Joren was acting. He seemed almost happy. Keladry did as she was instructed. Within a few seconds, she came back with a red helmet. He nodded approvingly and gestured for her to get on the bike. Cautiously, she lifted one leg and swung it over the seat. He turned to look at her.
"Put on your helmet. You're the one always being a safety freak," he said while putting on his own helmet. Keladry remembered back when she rode her own motorcycle during the first mission. Once again, she had to get used to the helmet. When he saw she was ready, he continued. "Hold on to my waist… unless you want to fall off."
She would have glared at him, but he probably wouldn't have seen it through the helmet. Keladry hesitantly encircled his waist with her arms. She thought to herself about the situation. And she realized that she had never seen anyone ride with Joren on his bike. Did that mean she was the first? It wasn't a big deal, but at that moment, it felt good. She smiled.
They rode out of the parking lot on onto the street that went all the way to the countryside. Keladry couldn't describe the feeling. She could feel the wind against her, and every bump in the ground beneath her. All the buildings blurred together as they raced along. And then, after a few minutes, there weren't even buildings to look at. Long, wide fields where the flowers grew-- all different colors and types. The trees swayed in the same wind as the flowers, waving hello to her.
Joren started to speed up. Keladry's heart began to pound. Adrenaline once again took its place in her body. The thrill was in her blood. She instinctively held on to him a bit more. He gasped slightly when he felt her arms tighten around him. It was not something he was used to at all. He'd never ridden with another person. This encouraged him to speed up. After the depressing day, he wanted to go swiftly like the wind, but powerful and graceful at the same time. He leaned in on a curve, past grassy knolls and random rocks.
There was a place he wanted to see. It was not until that moment that he realized he was on his way towards it. Old habits die hard, he concluded. Joren slowed down so he could catch sight of it. And, almost regretfully, her grip loosened from him. Joren left the road and started down a path of worn grass, where once a dirt path had been. They rode up an almost leveled slope. It overlooked a site with broken wood. The vines and the plants grew over the wood. Keladry could barely make out the shape of a house. Barely any flecks or chips of white paint remained on the structure. From the way it was left, the house had probably been two stories and had a porch. And the way it came down was not by forces of nature like the wind or rain-- but fire.
They got off the bike, leaving the bike to stand at the bottom of the hill. Joren sighed almost imperceptibly and kicked a small stone to the bottom of the slope.
"Why are we here?" she asked.
Joren paused before answering. He looked up at the sky, then back down at the house. "This is where I lived."
Keladry stared at him. She was at a loss for words. Joren Stone came from Galla? --In the Yamanis?
The special operative had anticipated her questions. He folded his arms and nodded toward the remnants of the house. "I was born and raised in Galla. We lived here in the countryside- my parents and I-- good people." His eyes became wistful. "Especially my father." Joren sighed. "He was a biker, too. He raced. I guess that's where I get my natural love of bikes from." He pointed back to the road. "That's where he practiced, and the arena was where he shined. Everyone knew his name."
He sat down in the soft grass and beckoned for her to join him. She hesitantly did so, still awkward around the new Joren. Dimly, she realized that she was sinking into her listening role again. She had listened to Cleon, and listened to Faleron, Lalasa, and Roald. It seemed almost ordinary for her to be there beside her partner, learning of his past. "Go ahead. What else?"
He glanced at her and smiled slightly. "He won a lot of races. I used to think he was the greatest man in the world." He brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead. "And even in the spotlight, he still had time for Mom and me. Took her out dancing. Took me to the arena to see him. Taught me how to race on motorbikes by the time I was 12. Motorcross was cool." He shrugged. "I guess I liked it, considering I'd never done anything else. But now that I think back on it, I'm much happier on a real motorcycle than one of those."
"Seems like that to me, too," she thought, not daring to interrupt his reminiscing.
"So, life was good. I had everything I ever wanted and I was very grateful. I did everything I was asked to, and my father showed me a whole, new world." He nibbled on his lower lip for three seconds, then started to stand up. "Let's go."
She scrambled to her feet. "Wait, that's it?"
"Yeah. So let's get out of here."
She shook her head. "No, just a second. How did you end up in Mithros if you're native to the Yamanis?"
"I don't want to talk about it," he said and started down the slope. She grabbed his sleeve.
"And let it fester more than it already has? Come on, tell me," Keladry goaded nervously. Usually, everyone just let it out. They didn't hold back from their ranting. But Joren did. And this time, she really wanted to know. She let go of his arm.
He studied her for a few moments, then let out a deep breath. He rubbed the back of his neck. "When I was 13, my father was accused of putting illegal parts on his bike to go faster." He clenched his fist and stared back at his house. "I couldn't believe it. They all knew my father. He'd never do that!" Anger was crawling into this tone. "They actually found the parts on it. They had to have been put there on purpose by someone else! He was framed!"
He kicked the ground, sending a spray of dirt and grass forth from his foot. "And you know what those assholes did? They banished him from the Galla Arena and banished any other Stone ever to come along." He stifled a scream of rage. "Those mother fuckers are still there, the same blind old men who kicked my dad out! They always frowned when he would win a race, and never seemed like they wanted to give him his trophies." He spat. "And they were all too eager to take back every single one." He began walking toward the house. Keladry's eyes widened. She went to catch up to him.
"And…"
"And I remember the day. I just came down for breakfast and Mom was crying." He reached the broken, sagging porch, with no roof at all. He ran his hand over a brass doorknob on the ground. "They were taking back all his trophies, all his medals. And he stood there-- his face set in a grim way. He saw me and told me to go to my room. When I wouldn't go, my mother took me and left me there upstairs for hours." The blonde closed his eyes, as if suddenly remembering every last detail and seeing it in his head. Keladry gulped nervously.
"Joren?" she whispered.
He opened his eyes and looked up where the second story of the house used to be. "We were okay for a few weeks. We lived in isolation. My mother became stronger in mind. She set herself as the one to go into town. If my father went, they would scream at him, or do worse. It was so humiliating how people who once chanted his name so happily despised him for supposedly cheating them. They had not faith in him, not the same way I did." He stepped toward the porch some more so Keladry gazed at his backside. His hands were trembling in their black gloves. "Rumors flew around Galla, exaggerating my father's so-called crimes. Weeks later, he not only put illegal parts on his bike to win, but he sabotaged other people's bikes. Weeks after his banishment from the arena, someone was sabotaging the competitor's bikes and leaving the blame on him. My father never went into town! Those pricks didn't know what they were talking about!"
Keladry shrank back when his voice started to get louder. He was on the verge of bursting out every emotion in him.
"And you know what, Mindelan?"
She gulped again, with a dry throat. "Yeah?"
"One night, they set fire to our house."
He stayed silent after that. She stared at him, her eyes moistening from his sad story. And all at once, everything made sense. The reason why he was so cold toward everyone… the reason why he loved bikes… why he did not want to stay in Galla, or why he didn't want to go inside the arena. And…
And the burn scars.
Joren seemed to hear her thoughts. He went on to describe the event. "I was asleep for the longest time. I didn't even know the fire was surrounding my bed until I heard my mother's scream. And then, Dad rammed through my door and leapt over the fire to get to me. He shook me awake--" Here, Keladry heard a sniffling sound. He was crying. "And lifted me up. But when we turned around, the fire was already all over the door. The wood was breaking. Everything was on fire. Pieces of the ceiling fell. The fire was so hot. It was an inferno in there. I thought I was going to die." He angrily wiped at his eyes. She still could not see his face. "And he threw me out the window just as a rafter fell on him."
And there he stood, staring at the remnants of his childhood home. After minutes that felt like hours, he spoke again. "I was lucky I didn't break my neck. Just a sprained wrist and lot of bruises, some bad burns. I went to a neighbor, far deeper into the countryside. They took me in until I was healthy enough to go back." He paused. "There was hardly anything left. My parents were dead. Fucking murdered."
He kicked at the porch. "It wasn't fair! They didn't do anything!" Tears were streaming down his cheeks. Keladry ran to grab hold of him and drag him away, but he shook her off and continued his abuse his former home. "Why the hell did they set fire to our house? Wasn't it enough that they destroyed his spirit? Wasn't it enough they ruined my life?" He punched at the freestanding post until it toppled over, screaming in fury. "They didn't have to kill them! Nobody in town cared! When I finally went back to withdraw money out the bank, they gave me their pitying looks. I didn't need anyone's damn pity! I just wanted revenge!"
He stopped, finally. Panting, his knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed to the ground. He struck the grass with his fist. "And they told me I was too young, too weak to do anything. I couldn't stand the Yamanis anymore. There was too much left to remind me of everything gone wrong. And no future at all. It seemed natural to leave." He wiped at his eyes again. "So I left. No big deal. I wanted to become better so fast, so I could be strong. So I could be great, but not in Galla. There was no way I was coming back here." He shifted off his legs and sat on his bottom. Keladry knelt beside him, then she sat with her own legs tucked underneath her.
"Is that why you went through training so fast?"
"And was an asshole the whole time?" he said, tears still running down his cheeks. "Yeah. I guess. I didn't want anyone to hear my story. I didn't need their stupid pity. And because of that, I threw away my humanity. There was no room for that in a world where great men were framed and persecuted for crimes they never committed. Who needs to be human? Who needs to have kindness and warmth?" he screamed out to the sky. "Those heartless bastards are still here! They still run the races and I wouldn't be at all shocked if they still cheated people!"
Sensing he was about to fall over the edge, Keladry clutched his shoulder and tried to calm him. "Hey, hey. Just take it easy."
He looked in her eyes, the fierceness in the arctic depths of his irises melted. And all the intimidation disappeared from him in those few moments. He was human-- not a frozen hearted shadow of a man. He was human. Impulsively, Joren hugged her. And she hugged him back. He cried softly onto her shoulder while she stroked the back of his head and made soothing mitigation like any mother would. His body was warm, the complete opposite of how she imagined the icy young man to be.
"It's okay," she whispered, taking his right hand in hers. He flinched. And she remembered and tugged off his glove. His knuckles were pink and raw from when he punched the brick the other night. She squeezed his hand gently. He sniffled a bit more before turning his face up towards hers. It was amazing. His eyes held so much more emotion than her whole known record of him combined. Awkwardly, she said, "It's okay."
Their foreheads were pressed together. She could feel his tears soak through her shirt. And she could feel them on her fingertips. It was frighteningly hard to believe she wasn't crying by then. Her eyes were moist though. He reached up and barely touched her eyelashes. And then, Joren leaned forward and kissed her.
It was an explosion of emotion inside of her. Her heart was pounding between her ears. All the blood rushed to her head. She closed her eyes and basked in the moment. After all the years of a prude and ignoring love, it vented out her unknown desire to want to fall in love. Keladry didn't know what to think at that moment. Her mind was blank as his lips continued to press against hers in a sweet dream. And like all dreams, they woke up.
Joren was the one to part them. He gazed at her calmly, his tears ceased. For the brief amount of time, she couldn't think of anything, nor could she guess his thoughts.
"Keladry--" he began.
Her pager beeped. The reverie was broken forever. Joren grabbed her wrist and overturned it to see the message screen. Like a passing wind, his usual mood returned and chilled her. "It's Kennan. They're at the arena."
He got up and started to jog to his bike. She followed him in a slight daze. They sat on the bike and rode off down the road. She held onto him no tighter than before. Keladry was still recovering from the magical instant in time.
~~
"And in first place… Garvey Runnerspring!" a loud voice blared from all around. Lalasa leaned over the rail to squint at the three men standing on different sized boxes, holding their medals that hung around their necks in one hand and waving with the other. She nudged Faleron.
"So, you bet on him, right?"
"Yes," he nodded. "He's the favorite around here."
Cleon yawned. "Looks like a snob to me."
Roald shrugged. "Yeah, I guess…"
"Aww, look at him! He looks worse than Faleron when he's smug!"
The thief pouted. "Hey, now…"
"Oh, shut up, all three of you!" Lalasa ordered. "I'm stuck with the Three Stooges."
"Hey!" Keladry called out as she and Joren made their way through the crowd. "What happened?"
Faleron pointed out to the track. "Runnerspring in first while Quinden Martihill and Yancen Irenroha are in second and third."
Joren narrowed his eyes. "Did you say Runnerspring?"
"Yeah. Right over there."
He growled low in his throat. "Stuck up brat gets the top of the line stuff because his grandfather used to be a judge."
"Whoa, wait a minute! You know people?" Faleron grinned. "Great! You, my good man, are coming with me to the betting stands!"
He shook his head. "No. I'm going to talk to Runnerspring. He and I have some unfinished business. Stay here."
Lalasa blinked. "Unfinished business?"
They watched him leave the stands and enter the track just as the competitors were making their way out. He caught hold of Garvey Runnerspring and said something to him. The group could not tell what he was saying since none could read lips. Garvey started to grin, not in a good way, but like he had nothing to lose. He motioned for Joren to follow him.
~~
"So! If it isn't Stone! Back again after so, so, long," Garvey laughed as they went into the locker room. He wiped the sheen of sweat off his forehead. "I still remember when we were racing against each other on motorbikes, don't you?"
Joren nodded. "Yeah. I remember." He literally forced the next words out of his mouth. "I wanted to say congratulations."
Garvey faked a gasp. "Joren Stone? Congratulating me? Oh, I think I can die a happy man now!"
"Don't push it, Runnerspring. I could still beat you."
"Like hell you could," the racer snorted. "Not unless you fixed up your bike with some top of the line illegal shit imported from across seas, right?"
Joren clenched his fists. "Hey, shut up. You know what happened back then wasn't true."
He nodded, but shrugged at the same time. "Hey, I was just a kid back then, too. I don't know what's true or not."
"Then stop acting like it is," Joren hissed.
"Whatever," Garvey snickered. "You're just sour because I'm a successful man now and you've been running away your whole life. Running away from Galla because you were too weak to handle your father's terrible burden."
Joren ground his teeth. "You better shut your mouth."
"Make me."
"Race."
"Race? You want to race me? With what?"
"My father's bike. The Black Knight Custom X40 against your Raging Skysong."
Garvey started to laugh uncontrollably. "You? Race me? No way! I couldn't embarrass you like that!" He nudged him. "There are still people in the stands. They don't want to see a Stone lose again."
"I told you to stop cracking jokes about my dad."
"Why should I? Whatever I say, goes around here. That's the way of the winners. So why don't you haul ass back to the stands and watch me tear up the track again in the victory lap?"
"Pompous son of a bitch," Joren said under his breath.
"Oh, someone's jealous," Garvey taunted as he turned his back and started to walk to the sink.
"Race me so we can prove who's better!"
The first place winner laughed again. "In your dreams, loser!"
"Are you sure?"
"Ha! Of course!"
"You asked for it."
Garvey frowned and whirled around. Joren punched him hard in the jaw, a right cross that knocked Garvey unconscious. The guy didn't even see it coming. He crumbled to the floor unconscious. The blonde brushed himself off, walking away with a smirk on his face.
"I admit it didn't feel as satisfying as beating him in a race, but good enough…"
~~
Keladry sat uncomfortably in front of the motel. Everyone else was inside, talking amongst themselves why Garvey Runnerspring hadn't taken his usual victory lap for the crowd to see. She had a funny feeling it had something to do with a certain special operative from Tusaine, but she didn't want to confront him about it. The reminder of the kiss that morning was still pricking away at her like a needle. Both good that she was reminded with every sharp sting, both bad in how much it hurt to see the afterward behavior of the blonde in question.
Joren finally came into view. He opened his collar a bit to expose his throat to the air. It was hot and humid that afternoon. It was a great feat for any man to be wearing black in that weather. She stood up and cleared her throat. "Hey."
He blinked. "Oh. Hey."
"Can we talk for a second?" she asked nervously, toeing the concrete with her shoe. He nodded.
"Yeah. Go ahead."
"About earlier, at your house…" She touched her lips with shaky hands.
He let out a deep breath. "Oh yeah. I've been meaning to talk to you about that." He scratched the back of his head. "It was all a mistake. I was kind of shook up from recalling all that heinous crap about my family and Galla. My head was messed up. I did something I shouldn't have. Sorry if I lead you on or anything."
Prick, prick.
"Oh, no," she said, covering up her hurt as best she could. "It's cool. It felt kind of weird to me anyway. I'm glad it's not leading to anything, actually."
"Good. Officers don't date each other," he nodded. "It's better we forget about the whole thing. See you around, Mindelan." He walked off.
She bit her lip. "We aren't officers anymore…"
~~
Neal looked up from his magazine when the communications screen started to beep. He rolled across the floor in the mobile chair and answered it. There was no image. "Hello?"
"I…"
"Hello? Who is this?"
The person calling him didn't say anything more. Neal frowned.
"Hello? Anyone there?" He pressed random buttons on the screen. "Owen, if this is you, I'm going to kick your butt, man. Seriously! Who is this?"
~~
Keladry ended the transmission. She wanted to talk to someone so badly. For once, she wanted to tell her story and have someone listen to her. She knew it was bad to call Neal. Someone would find out and turn her in. If she were lucky, Neal would not report the call and no one would trace it.
"Another screw up," she muttered and walked inside. "Nothing ever goes right for me. Especially concerning him," she thought, thinking back to the icy blonde. "My first kiss was a mistake. Of course it was. Everything I do nowadays screws up."
~~
Author: …That was long. My perfect episode was long. *wipes forehead* Well, now I know I'm capable of extremely long chapters. I hope you enjoyed it. I expect many, many, MANY reviews. Talk to me, people. Oh, and when you review, mention the chapter you're reviewing. The chaptering system makes everyone's reviews show up under episode 1. *sweatdrop*
Closing Credits:
Special thanks to those who helped me with descriptions:
( Note: These people are VERY cool. Do not mess with them.)
Kestrel
Erin (Hyper Girl to the Rescue)
Sullychkk (Whose name is Caitie…)
And also to the people who volunteered to help with my web page:
FireLily
Jaelawyn Noble