It Could Be Worse
Episode 21: And You Call This Justice?
SEASON FINALE
By Sulia Serafine
[Episode started: 4-15-01. Episode finished 4- 29-01. 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
"This way!"
Owen ran at the front of the trio. His excitement overtook him. There was a promise of controversy and battle in this Stormwing business, and though it terrified him-- it thrilled him as well. He was glad his companions could not see his face. They would be disgusted at his wide grin and flushed cheeks.
The female behind him pushed her hair out of her eyes, staring at the back of his head. There were bits of twigs and leaves in his dark, curly hair from when he'd fallen to the ground. No doubt, there was probably some in hers, but it did not matter. They had to get upstairs and find out what happened with the rest of the world.
Blood and dirt footprints trailed behind the last person's first few steps onto manmade surfaces. Joren briefly reflected on ways not to slip because of it. And then he focused upon keeping up with the other two though his injuries slowed him. Strands of white-yellow hair stuck to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Areas of his body had dried blood, a rusty red color that matched his clothing and substance that clumped his hair. The heat coming from his body was overwhelming enough for him to open up the front of his shirt. Cool air tickled his chest.
The halls they traveled through were no longer stately and perfect as they'd been before. It would take forever for interior decorators and licensed contractors to repair the President's home and office. Holes in the wall, dirt from boots… Everywhere you looked, a fight had probably taken place there as the rebels had done what they wanted. And the DJPF tried to take it back.
"Do you know where you're going?" Keladry finally called up to her younger friend. She could not recognize any of the halls they turned into.
He looked back at her with an impish twinkle in his eye. "Not really."
Their aimless running went on for a few more moments. They came to a stop in front of the back stairs. Here, he shrugged and started jogging up at a slower pace so that they didn't over exert themselves before any potential fights. Joren muttered something offensive under his breath, but Keladry chose not to repeat the words to Owen, whom obviously had not heard because it seemed he had a happy expression.
When they reached the next set of stairs, Keladry moved in front of the DJPF officer. She approached the large window with a relaxed stride. Things had to be getting better. Ambulances and squad cars would be arriving, even more than before. They would cart away the offenders and care for the injured. A swarm of concerned people would surround their great President as he was taken to Emergency Intensive Care for his gunshot wounds. And then she would notice Lalasa, Roald, and the woman named K.J. by his side. They would guard him.
The sight she saw left her dumbfounded. When Joren and Owen came closer behind her, she found her voice. "They're… they're everywhere," Keladry said under her breath. She rested her hands on the glass. "Look at them all. This is unbelievable."
They gazed out the window. Silvery shapes moved against the night sky. Others stayed closer to the ground, blocking escape routes. Some dove close toward the mansion itself. They were airborne vandals. Shouts and cries from officers in distress came from below, on the ground where they were terrorized. Keladry closed her eyes against the depressing sight.
"What are we going to do?" Owen asked her as they backed away.
The normally patient young woman tensed. Why did he expect her to have the answers? "I don't know--"
A heavy tree branch crashing through the window interrupted her. A deafening shattering sound echoed in their ears. They automatically fell to the floor as the branch sailed over them and collided with the opposite wall. Tiny glass shards showered them. The three stunned people gaped at the broken window for a few seconds, seeing the attacking Immortal cackle and squawk.
Joren jumped up to his feet in fury. With him, he took up a hand-sized chunk of the branch that had come off. He used to clear away the sharp jagged pieces of glass left stuck to the windowpane. Then he dared to lean out and scour the sky with his eyes. Finally, he found what he was looking for.
Rikash Moonsword beat his wings steadily, hovering just in the area thirty yards away from the window. He knew that Joren would try to shoot him. But Rikash was good at dodging. His cause was more important than those of his human keepers were. His was for freedom.
"He's something important," Joren whispered. He reached into his pocket for the vial he carried. For some extraordinary reason, his blood was singing in his veins. His heart was beating between his ears. A new wave of energy flowed through him like a rampant river, and no dam could hold it back. It was simply supernatural.
Owen recognized the Stormwing and started cursing. "Damn it! That's the beast from the fake forest!"
Joren narrowed his eyes. "He is, is he?"
With that, he bolted away from them, up the stairs. Keladry cried out in surprise. She and Owen started after him, but more adrenaline pumped through him. They could not catch up. Realizing this, their tired limbs refused to work and they slowed their pace.
"What is he doing?" Keladry shook her head as they caught their breath on the third floor. She sat on the steps. Owen sank down besides her, breathing hard.
"Who knows? He must be on the roof by now."
"He knows something we don't," she said quietly. Keladry stared at the stairs where they had last glimpsed him bounding up, but nothing more remained but a dirty footprint-- a sign of his passing. She'd been as nervous before when Alanna had told her that Roger shot Joren. But now Joren was alive. He was better than alive… he moved as if in invincibility.
But she couldn't help being nervous. He was her partner. A rude jerk, who only made her feel insecure about herself when usually she did that, whom she knew could be a better person, given the opportunity. Given the time, and the help… perhaps from someone willing to be patient. Someone, who didn't want to take charge, lest that someone ward him off, someone--
"You worried about him?"
Keladry didn't answer. But Owen knew what she was going to say anyway.
~~
The wind blew furiously on the rooftop. The concrete underneath his feet, and then his feet as well, disappeared, as he got further away from light fixtures. He faced the pitch-black night. No stars greeted him. Nothing but the howling winds. Joren's blonde hair whipped around his head. The chill crept into his body, after the overwhelming heat that caused him to open his black shirt earlier.
One hand instinctively strayed to his gun, but that would be no good. The Stormwing had dodged Owen's attacks. Why wouldn't it dodge his, though his aim was better? A pang of helplessness struck, but he warded it off with the strange feelings in his body ever since he'd "woken" in the Immortal habitats. If only he could figure out why he felt this way. Perhaps he could use it more to his advantage. All he knew was that the Immortal from the forest had something to do with it. He was a key piece to the enigmatic puzzle.
"Foolish man. What do you want?" Rikash asked disdainfully. He perched on the side of the building, boldly exposing his rear flank to snipers along the ground. His brethren would take care of them. His attention was on the mortal man.
The blue-eyed human stood taller. "Stop this nonsense. Roger Conté is dead, and so is Ozorne Tasikhe. Who do you follow?"
"Why, we follow ourselves," he answered. And then he attacked.
Joren's eyes widened. He violently twisted to the side as Rikash dove by, his talons stretched out to claw at the human man. A horrible screech pierced the air as the Stormwing gained altitude and made a wide turn. Instead of swooping back down as Joren expected, he lingered high above. It was as if he were regarding him like prey-- a tiny field mouse being hunted by the owl at night. But his chosen prey was belonging to man, and not rodents. Ironically, the mere mortal predatorily watched Rikash above.
The moon revealed itself then. It cast eerie shadows and haunting illuminations across the estate. The silvery feathers of the large creature looked even sharper than before. One strike from a wing would rake gashes across his body like none he'd ever felt. Eventually, Rikash began to laugh.
"Do you find something to your amusement?" Joren asked calmly.
"It is because of me that you live, yet you…" Rikash stifled his uncontrollable snickers. "You act as if you have the power to defeat me! When that power is my own!"
"What do you mean, Stormwing?"
"You will know soon enough!"
Joren drew his gun. Though his chances of hitting his elusive mark were slim, he fired away. There was nothing left to lose. After all, he should have been dead. If he had to go out a second time, he'd go fighting. And he'd win first. The gunshots were loud; bursts of light from the barrel of the gun as the bullet sought its target.
Rikash flapped his wings heartily once, then twice. Then he dove towards him like a torpedo in water. This time, Joren could not move in time. Though he changed his direction twice, Rikash rammed into him and knocked him off his feet. His human opponent wasn't to be taken lightly though. Joren kicked straight up in the air, striking the right wing as it went past.
Blood trickled down from his hairline, to his right eye so Joren had to blink. His bare forearms were covered with scratches, like he'd purposely dragged himself through a large thorn bush. Red blood, his blood.
"My blood," he thought, a bit perplexed by the statement. The first word-- the one saying it was his-- did not feel right. The more he stared at the thin red lines, slowly getting thicker and thicker, the more he began to understand. He numbly reached into his jacket pocket for what he hoped would save him.
"You'll regret that, human," Rikash threatened. "I'll get my freedom from your filthy race if it's the last thing I do."
Freedom? Joren's hand closed around the vial in his pocket, but he briefly focused upon the mix of hatred and determination upon his Immortal opponent's face. Though it was not in his nature to be a peacemaker instead of a soldier, Joren thought better of it and spoke. "The President will grant you your freedom of the labs and underground forest. Just call off your people."
"Ha! Do you think he'll actually do that? Think, man," he hissed. "We are Immortals. Whoever has us has power. Your President would not let us out of his site, for fear of what others could do with us in their possession."
"Power, my ass," Joren muttered.
The Stormwing heard him. "Though we cannot dodge missiles, or fight the naval battles, be assured that we can do much with our other… skills." He flew a little closer and landed on the edge of the roof opposite Joren. "Your President would use the excuse of protecting us from the paparazzi and foreign powers to shove us down in that place with the fake sun. I want the real sun. I want the same sun that you have. And then I'll stop fighting."
He sprung into the air, ready for another swoop. This time, his knifelike feathers-- crafted especially by the human scientists-- would drag across Joren's throat. He promised himself that. But before he could get high enough into the air, Joren yanked out the cork from the vial of Rikash's blood and drank it.
"No!" Rikash screeched. He dove down towards him. Joren did not finish the vial. He'd only drunk half. Quickly, he replaced the cork in the vial and stuffed it in his pocket. He could feel the blood burning down his throat. It was so bitter, and it made his insides churn. Already, the sensation spread throughout his body. Instead of strengthening him, the blood made him cry out in pain for trying to adjust so fast.
And that was when Rikash collided with him and threw both of them off the roof. Joren hung on desperately to Rikash, encircling and arm around the bird creature's neck and biting his lip through the pain. Talons scratched at his legs, tearing up the fabric of the pants and making semi-deep gouges in his thighs. Despite all the struggling, Rikash stayed in flight. Joren weighed heavily upon him, but they weren't called Stormwings for nothing.
Or at least… that was how it was supposed to be.
They rose higher into the air. The sounds of Rikash's brethren seemed distant. None of the squabbles between Immortal and mortal on the ground and in the air had any influence on the two grappling combatants. All of a sudden, Rikash balked. Joren was cutting off his air with his arm about his neck. The young man was no better off, the artificial metal feathers cutting him all over his body.
They started to plummet towards the ground.
From a third story window, Keladry and Owen watched in shock. There were no words to yell-- no wind within them for which to scream or cry out. Elsewhere, the others looked up as well. Anguish found its way into each of them, despair close in behind. Each held their collective breaths, waiting for the two to hit the ground. And most likely, die.
Joren ripped a savage cry from his throat, the dozens of blade feathers cutting him. Rikash could not get them back into the air, no matter how hard he beat his wings. Nor could he shake his unwanted human passenger. They spun so those at any one given time Rikash was on the bottom to hit the ground first. At other times, Joren was to hit the ground first. In either case, there wasn't any likelihood they would live with the other one cushioning their fall.
It was particularly worse for Joren both ways. There was no way he could use Rikash to break his fall without accidentally driving a metallic feather into his body, if he was very unlucky-- his heart or a vital organ. His soul tried to calm him. After all, he should have been dead. Being dead again would not make a difference. It could not. His mind, however, was screaming. All his nerve endings stung with biting pain.
The pain… there was nothing but the pain. There wasn't anything before it, and there would be nothing after it.
His body throbbed in all the places where'd his flesh had split open, where the skin had been breached. Tender pink flesh exposed to the scalding cold air, boiling blood in an icy body. Every single cell in his body was on fire. And if anything, he hated the fire the most. Years old scars would tell that story every time he looked in the mirror.
Time slowed down. The fall was taking forever. At their original height, it ensured a painful death. Joren could break his neck, and not die, but slowly suffer until his heart could not take it any more and gave out. Like it did the first time. His heart…
"My heart… is already dead," he whispered to himself, his eyelids fluttering. And then came the ground.
~~
The Stormwings saw their leader fall and die. They started perching in trees, quitting their barrage of attacks upon the two-legged people. There were howls and wails of mourning for Rikash Moonsword. They hid their heads beneath their wings. None of their people had been killed-- none but he, son of the first and only matriarch who became dead to them because of the scientists in one of their experiments.
Each one of them began remembering Rikash as he was, father to many, brother to many. Protector and guide to their unsure and angry minds. Director of their liberation who tolerated humans such as Roger so that they may have a chance to fly in the sky they craved. Though some had never seen the sky before, flying in it seemed so natural that they could never bear to go back underground ever again. And that would not happen.
The humans, who had lost plenty men, stood quietly. They knew not who the pale skinned young man in shredded and bloody clothing was. Nor could they bring themselves to grieve him. Exhaustion was just too much for them to do anything but collapse or lean upon something rather than stand in reverent solace.
Joren slipped into peaceful oblivion, his warm blanket of comfort that wrapped around him. The moon reflected light from the sun, which was facing the opposite side of the world, onto his face. The light he sensed through his eyelids. His chapped lips parting a bit to press against his palm.
And in his partially gloved hand-- shards of the broken glass vial and the blood of his enemy, who was not really so.
Their combined blood seeped into the earth.
~~
"No!" Keladry screamed from the window. Tears threatened to flood her eyes, but she forced them back. She was not going to cry… not then-- ever. Besides, if Joren could come back from the dead once, he could do it again… Something inside of her cursed her for lying to herself, as she gazed upon his limp, quiescent form.
Owen touched her shoulder and bade her to turn away.
"Kel."
She nodded, and waved him off. Firmly setting her expression so to be stronger than she truly was, Keladry marched with Owen down the damaged stairs, head held high. She took deep breaths, ready for whatever came next. Stormwings, or the Devil himself… it didn't matter to her. She could take on the world from there and never run out of spirit or anger to fight them.
But she could run out of heart because at the moment, she was indeed heartbroken inside. It was the laboratory all over again when everyone had stood silently, already giving respectful the loss of Joren Stone before they saw his corpse. And as it was before, she would not accept anything until she walked up and felt for his pulse.
~~
Keladry took up every ounce of strength in her body to keep still in the gold cotton cloth cushioned chair she sat in on the platform. Her formal uniform for parades and banquets didn't feel right. She missed the Hyperion bands wound around her limbs and the form fitting material that would allow her to move as lithely and gracefully as she chose. In the stiff collared shirt, she could not move. Her neck felt strangled by the mandatory ladies' scarf held in a fancy ruffle by an official Dominion Jewel Protection Force pin. Her feminine jacket was not so feminine to make her gag, but it was formal and stiff, and thick and she could not bear it for much longer.
At least she was wearing pants, and not a skirt like some other women officers opted to do. And they let her keep her field gloves on. The blue diamond shapes over her knuckles made her feel a bit more at ease. Her hair had been cut again back to under her ears. So much time in the sun had put even more streaks of strawberry blonde through light brown. She wouldn't be surprised if there was some coppery red strands on her head as well. She'd like red hair, just like Advisor Alanna Olau Trebond who was seated on the other end of the platform from her.
"Is the Commissioner ever going to stop talking?" Cleon silently mouthed to her from his seat next to hers. He was wearing a similar uniform, minus the scarf and replaced with a tie-- but with the same official pin. His wild red hair had attempted to be combed and gelled down, but halfway through Commissioner Wyldon's speech, it had come undone and was unruly again. From the front row of the indoor amphitheater's audience, Faleron could not help but make silent teasing gestures at the spectacle of the wavy red hair all about the sharpshooter's head. Roald was stifling his laughter, not able to keep from glancing at Faleron's humorous, but tiny movements. Lalasa rolled her eyes at all three men, making a mental note to smack them all upside the head later.
All their friends were dressed in formal clothing. Faleron and Roald wore tuxedos and Lalasa a new gown given to her as a gift from Daine Sarassri. When not laughing and joking around at such a serious occasion, they held looks of pride and congratulations for their two friends on the stage.
Neal and Owen were seated in a section reserved for DJPF Officers only. They were wearing their uniforms and wide smiles on their faces. Keladry wondered briefly out of character if she should make a small bet with Cleon to see which of the two young men got up first and made fools of him with ridiculous and rowdy behavior.
Elsewhere, Numair and Daine were seated in a section belonging to the High Council. Usually, the President, Vice President, and their families would be with them, but because of the latest interrogations, they were detained back at the reconstructing Presidential Estate.
After a few minutes, the commissioner made his closing and bowed his head. The audience clapped. "And now, may I present a man who needs no introduction, Mr. George P. Swoop, First Advisor to our esteemed President."
George got up from his seat next to his wife and strode towards the podium with a smile on his face. "Good evening, ladies and gentleman. We have finally come to the most important part of this wonderful event. The honoring of heroes."
He swept an arm toward them. She nodded her head to the seated people who began to clap. Beside Kel, Cleon gave a little informal wave that won a few approving from more common and not aristocratic members of the audience.
"In the face of danger and corruption, they had a choice. This choice was to either pretend they'd never heard what they heard-- seen what they seen or… hold true to their beliefs in what was right. As you can see, they made the latter choice. Otherwise, they wouldn't be here and we'd all be slaving to dictators, eh?"
Mild laughter erupted from the large audience. Alanna rolled her eyes at her husband's usual routine of making the audience laugh and never giving a completely serious speech in his life (she had done those). George continued while resting his hands folded behind his back. After a few minutes, he started moving left of the podium, but still talking into the microphone.
"And so, it is my honor to reinstate into the Dominion Jewel Protection Force, Cleon Kennan, and to promote him to First Class!"
Applause greeted Cleon as he stood up from his chair and walked over to the podium. He shook hands with George.
"Congratulations."
"Thank you, sir." Cleon saluted. George saluted back and handed him a clear case with a new Pager ID inside, completely programmed with First Class settings. The redhead stared at it for fifteen long seconds, biting his lip. Then he looked up at the hundreds of people waiting for him to speak. "What can I say… wow, this pager looks cool…"
More and more laughter came from the people because of his unceremonious speech, not being intimidated by the ceremony to make him rigid and classy. He fingered his tie a bit, loosening it from his neck. Then he cleared his throat.
"A lot of times, I was torn between what I thought I knew to be my life, and whatever was thrown in my face. The… the confusion and the pressure you get from this stuff gives you huge headaches. Often, I wanted to just forget it all and go back to the world I knew. Where there weren't secrets among high officials and no plot to overthrow the government." He paused. "But I couldn't live that life. Not because I had the courage to defy the odds… not because I had an overwhelming sense of…" he searched for the word in his mind. The impromptu speech was going better than he hoped. "Of duty, but because… well… I had pestering friends who had courage to defy the odds and overwhelming senses of duty."
There was more laughter. Faleron could not shake the mirth from his expression.
"I think I'll save myself the trouble of mortifying embarrassment and hurry up," Cleon nervously chuckled. He cleared his throat again. It was remarkable how dry it was. "In short, I thank you all for honoring me with your applause and respect. I don't think I'm worthy of you fine people's approval, but hey. It's your choice. Haha!" he grinned. "You don't know how much this promotion means to me. I thought I'd take a decade and more to get up to First Class. Seems all a man has to do is save the world!"
This time, everyone joined in on the laughter, even those onstage. Cleon raised his hand for them to quiet down. George was slightly jealous at all the half-jokes that the redhead had gotten away with. He would ask some of his comedic advice after the ceremony.
"Most of all, I'd like to thank my friends, who were there with me." He set his eyes upon the front row, noticing how Faleron's fingers tightened around the armrest. "They're the dose of sanity in my life, and I'm pretty sure I'm the dose of insanity in theirs. Once again, thank you."
He shakily walked back to his seat and plopped down beside Keladry. He glanced at her appreciatively and squeezed her offered hand. George walked back up to the podium and began introducing her.
"Keladry Mindelan went to the Academy at an early age, when most officers would have started in their late teens-- perhaps not even until adulthood. She breezed through all the required courses with extensive studies and early tests. She holds the record for the shortest time at the Academy and apprenticeship at the capital city of Tortall's DJPF Headquarters. Not only that, but she volunteered to take on all the toughest assignments since then to continually up herself to the class she is in right now." He paused and turned to the side. "Alanna, dear, you better watch out. She might become more famous than you, and then where will my reputation be?"
Alanna laughed aloud, her mouth wide open at her husband's jest. "Your reputation? You think mine would be damaged enough because of you!"
"Darling!" he melodramatically gasped. Everyone laughed at the two's antics. He shook his head. "Yes, yes. So it is again my honor, to reinstate one of the finest officers Tortall has ever known, Keladry Mindelan!"
Taking a deep breath, she got up and approached the microphone.
"Thank you everyone. I'm not sure of what I can say that you haven't already heard from Officer Kennan. Thanking my friends, who didn't let me down… they deserve to be up here and receiving ranks in the DJPF, too. But they've already told me they prefer to stay civilians and not have their faces on any newspapers."
She took fifteen seconds to reflect on her hectic life. "And as Officer Kennan mentioned, the confusion and the ceaseless trouble we ran into kept us awake a lot of hours of the day. Sometimes, there were brief interludes where things seemed normal and happy, and then an hour later, we were fleeing for our lives. There were many temptations to just stop and attack the most obvious enemy. But now I have learned that even the greatest people have their flaws and bad effects.
"Our President, as you all know," her voice became more even, "must answer to the Council now for the Immortals experiments. But with all the things that have happened to me, I hold no hostility for it. I would greet our President as respectfully and loyally as anyone else because I know he thought he was doing good and that any pain inflicted he is willing to take responsibility for."
She hesitated. "I guess all that's left to say is that I'm going to use this second chance now, to definitely be more careful of more than meets the eye. And to fight for those who need protecting, just as I've always done. Thank you."
There was a long period applause here, since Cleon and she were the only two officers on the platform. Commissioner Wyldon stood this time, his brow furrowed. He frowned a bit, before coming to the microphone. He adjusted it so he could speak into it without lowering his head.
"And now, the DJPF would like to reinstate a final officer who is not present tonight." Here a hush fell over the theater, since they had been in the fading bits of chatter and applause. "
He was a special operative who for the latter of his career, was stationed in Tusaine until I brought him here to work some missions with Officer Mindelan." The middle aged man sighed. He seemed to be recalling something from way back in his memory. "When I first traveled to Tusaine to see this young man I'd sent there straight from the academy, I could not believe the severity of his personality, nor the fact that he could not disappoint me. He mastered so many things that I was impressed beyond words. And I'm still awed by his performance these past weeks in the crisis that overtook our country.
"And as a whole nation, we shall keep him to memory, even when years pass and heroes come and go. This one… This one we knew as a normal man with no desires. And yet, desired all the safety in the universe for us."
He held his chin up high and said with a flourish, "I hereby instate Joren Stone."
Keladry shut her eyes tightly. The noise of the audience still reached her ears, but her eyelids burned from the bright lights overhead. She willed herself to open her eyes and also clap. Cleon's face was expressionless, clapping as automatically as the other people were in the amphitheater.
~~
"That was a nice ceremony. Lots of people turned out," Lalasa commented as they picked up samples of food from the tables. Cleon, Neal, and Owen were having a contest to see who could stack the most hors d'oeuvres on their tiny plates. The dark haired young woman rolled her eyes for the billionth time that night, chastising them on their behavior. Roald opted to remain quiet. He was too busy searching the crowd of people for K.J. She'd arrived to the ceremony with Numair and Daine, and he had some questions for her. Keladry was talking to the two Presidential Advisors, showing signs of forced happiness.
Cleon lost the contest. He started to actually eat the food on his plate and told the other two he'd wander around a bit. Neal and Owen gave each other high fives. Commissioner Wyldon saw and glared at them. The two officers snickered and sneaked off to find more mischief.
"Where's Fal? I'm bored…" the redhead thought. He spotted his dashing friend a few feet off, deep in conversation with some Officials working for the High Council. His charm was at work again, having been discarded from his mind for so long to make room for survival knowledge. It had been so hard for Faleron at first, to get back his old clever and charismatic attitude. But judging from the way the older men and women were reacting to his words, he'd gotten back into the groove. Every expression that flickered over his face was calculated and placed for certain emphasis on certain topics. Cleon couldn't have been happier to see him that way again.
He finished his plate of food. He thought he should go back and pick up more, but reminded himself that he was wandering. A waiter came by and took his plate. Now that he was free to roam around the bright Victorian styled room without the dish, he put his hands in his pockets and headed toward the bay windows.
A familiar person was sitting on the satin window seats. His heart skipped a beat.
"K.J.? Is that you?" he asked, squinting. The mysterious woman in a long black gown with a simple white shawl scattered with tiny pearls looked up. If only her face would light up when she saw him. But in fact, she cringed.
"Oh, it's you, Kennan."
He pouted at her immediate reaction.
"It's that I hate these sorts of functions," she amended. "Dressing up. Bah."
He nodded. "May I sit with you?"
"I don't care. It's a public place, isn't it?"
"Cool!" he cheered enthusiastically. "So, what's new with you?"
"Nothing, really."
He scratched his head. It was going to be tough to coax her into an open-ended conversation. "So, do I get to find out more about you or do I have to ask Mr. Swoop?"
"I don't see why you're so interested."
"Aww, come on! You're an interesting person," he replied with a goofy smile on his face. "Tell me your plans now that there isn't much of anything to spy on in Tortall. Please?"
She gave a designated sigh. "Oh, all right." She thought for a moment. "If I'm not sent out of the city to foreign lands that need checking up on, then I'll be at Mr. Swoop's offices or with Ms. Sarassri's. She and Council Member Mr. Salmalin have hired your friend King."
"Fal? They hired Fal? But don't they know his theft record?"
"Obviously, they think he deserves a second chance. Don't you think he deserves one?" she narrowed her eyes.
"Of course! He's my best friend!" he answered a little indignantly.
"Well then. Back to the subject: I'll be doing odd jobs for the two Council members or the 1st Presidential Advisor. They need help holding the Stormwings in their habitats until interrogations are done and a decision is reached on what to do with them--" Here she started snapping fingers in front of his face. "Hey, hey, my face is up here, dolt. I thought I already taught you a lesson about staring at me last time, hmm?"
He blushed and corrected his line of vision. "Sorry."
"Men," she grumbled. Then she grabbed Cleon by the shoulder and moved him to his left. "Get out of the way! There he is!"
"Who?"
"Roald. I must speak with him. You stay here, Kennan, I'll be back…" she hesitated. "Maybe."
With that, she got up and stalked over in the most fluid way a person had ever stalked anywhere. Cleon admired her for a bit longer, sighing and fantasizing of little scenes with a sunset and a beach. He wondered what Neal and Owen's opinion would be of her. Neal was a frequent flirt, more so than Cleon was, and he dragged Owen along with him many of those times.
"Stop that train of thought," he told himself. "Neal might try to hook up with her when I point her out to him. Darn. Guess I'm on my own for this one."
He watched K.J. Her hair was pinned back on one side with a tiny collection of budding flowers. If only he could reach up and feel that soft hair. She still reminded him a Cheshire cat, playing with his head. Did she cast him those sidelong glances on purpose? Did she trace the hairline on the back of her neck to get his attention, then completely denounce him when they got into conversation? Did she purposely lure him and snare him only to leave him between that mechanical trap's jaws?
"The woman's simply intoxicating," he murmured. "And she despises my 'uncouth' behavior. Not that I blame her… God, why did there have to be such things as hormones?"
All of a sudden, Roald became pale. He stared at K.J. in some sort of disbelieving face contortion. He shook his head weakly. Now he squinted at her and reached out to touch her face. She let him and he traced her jaw. Then the Vice President's son traced his own. He gulped. Cleon could see his Adam's Apple rise and fall on the front of his neck.
Cleon stood up and inched his way forward, behind her. "Perhaps I should just listen in a teensy bit."
"You're pale, Roald. I'll get you some punch. Stay here," K.J. commanded and went off in search of the refreshment.
The redhead took his opportunity and darted forward. "Psst! Roald, buddy, what did she tell you?"
"What?" Roald blinked.
"Dude! Come on, man! Did she talk about me or something?" Cleon tapped his foot impatiently, keeping an eye out for the female they were talking about. "I can't tell you how much I'm attracted to her… She hates me!" he suddenly burst with a newfound passion. "No girl has ever hated me like that! I have to go after her!" He paused and added. "And don't listen to Kel or your girlfriend. I'm not just staring at her chest. Mind you, it's a bonus, but… she hates me! Score!"
The quieter boy frowned. "Um, I'm sorry. What are you talking about?"
Cleon growled in frustration. "K.J.! That resentful fox!"
"Did you just call my sister a fox?!" Roald yelled so loud so that the whole entire room heard him.
Complete and utter silence. Cleon and Roald looked to each other. Cleon was shocked by the words that had tumbled out his companion's mouth. And Roald was shocked at himself for calling the whole room's attention. Every eye was on them-- even the servants who'd been commanded to always keep moving and working paused to stare at the two men. If someone were to drop a pin at that moment, it would be heard as clear as day. Cleon glanced around nervously at the gaping ceremony guests.
"Is that the officer who just got reinstated? The one whom this party is for?" a high society woman whispered.
"And that's the Vice President Jasson's son!"
They cringed.
Lalasa excused herself from a group of people and stomped over to them. She took each man by the arm and yanked each man after her. "So very sorry, everyone. I'll handle these two heathens. Please, go back to your conversations. Sorry!"
K.J., in the meantime, yawned and glanced at the old fashioned clock on the wall. She held a cup of punch in one hand, occasionally sipping from it as she spied the Carthakian woman drag the two self-humiliated men outside with her. Perhaps she should have picked a better time to tell her little brother. But then again, it would never have been that entertaining if she had chosen somewhere else. Numair, Daine, and George advanced toward her.
"You couldn't have done this some other time?" Numair said, boring into her with his piercing eyes.
She shrugged. "I had to do it eventually. Better now than never, right? Maybe it will work to my advantage and brother dear will tell Cleon to back off from his sister. Who knows?"
George rubbed his temples. "For a spy, we really need to work on your people skills."
~~
Outside, Lalasa tried to keep from screaming her head off at them. Her tanned face had turned a strange shade of red. "What is wrong with you? What are you doing?"
Roald pointed at the door that led inside. "K.J. is my sister! Her… She says her name is Kalasin Jasson!"
She blinked. "And you believe her?"
"She looks like me a little too much," Roald told her. They started a private conversation while the third person just stood there dreaming of creamy, silky skin that was soft under his hands. And the smell of dark, wavy hair and eyes he could drown in.
"Kalasin… Oh, that's a beautiful name. Too bad she hates me." Cleon smiled as he started toward the party again. Lalasa grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him back.
"Wait a second, buster. You apologize for calling that girl a fox."
"Not girl. She's actually older then me, Lalasa," Roald corrected.
Cleon grabbed his arm. "Really? So, like… older woman? So that means-- OW! 'Lasa!" He rubbed the back of his head, wondering if he'd get a lump later. "I'm sorry!"
"Men," she muttered. "Okay, okay. Let's go inside. Roald, you'd better ask that woman for some solid evidence."
When they entered again, Faleron, Neal and Owen were waiting for an explanation. Cleon recounted the current events with a few interjections (of the punching kind) from Lalasa, though she smiled sweetly to the people around her who gave odd looks at them.
"But how did that happen?" Faleron asked. "Did your parents just abandon her when she was born because they were looking for a son or something?"
Roald shook his head. "She's really my half sister. My father," he stopped. He willed himself to speak. "My father had an affair, but when there was news that a girl was produced because of it, he took it upon himself to see her to a place where she would be properly taken care of."
"Ooh… scandalous," Neal wiggled his eyebrows. Lalasa elegantly elbowed him in the ribs.
"What about Kalasin's mother then?" Owen inquired.
"Didn't want Kalasin, apparently."
Cleon wondered how that much could be said in the little time that Kalasin and Roald had spoken to each other. But knowing how blunt she was, she probably just started and didn't stop until it was all out… in record breaking time. And the poor young man had just stood there, trying to comprehend the impact this would have on his life.
Lalasa took Roald's hand in her own. She started to lead him away "Come on then. If she's your sister, I suppose I should meet her." She froze. "Of course, I still don't believe that all of this is true but we'll find out soon enough."
"Wow. That's just amazing," Neal commented. "So, like, K.J-- er, Kalasin has been watching over Roald the whole time?"
"Probably," Faleron replied.
"Sibling devotion. Where else am I going to find that so perfectly in a female?" Cleon sighed. He slipped into his daze once again. The three other men exchanged looks. Faleron did his duty by reaching up and smacking his friend on the back of the head. "OW!"
"Wake up, Kennan. Now is not the time for dreaming."
Neal and Owen nodded agreeably. From the other side of the room, Keladry and the two Presidential Advisors headed towards them. When the young men saw the three, they promptly straightened up. Greeting formalities were exchanged until they all stood there waiting for the other to speak.
"Ahem, yes," George began after his wife nudged him in the side. "As you all know, the matter of what to do with the Immortals has yet to be decided."
"Oh, yes, I can't wait to hear what the Council has to say, Advisor Swoop," Neal said.
Alanna took over for her husband. "The Council presently is leaning toward a different solution. It was pointed out that the Stormwings have longed for their freedom from the underground living spaces. They want open skies. But how can we give them that when other evil-intentioned humans would want to hunt them for their rarity or otherwise? It's the same with the other Immortals."
"And what exactly is the solution?"
"We're granting a handful of kind scientists and some First Class DJPF Officers the chance to watch over the Immortals and lead them to some untouched land up north."
Faleron frowned. "How far up north?"
"The unmapped Roof of the World."
There was a collective gasp from the group. Owen's face lit up. "Really? I heard so many great things about the mysterious weather changes and… and… oh wow! I'd love to adventure up there!"
George whispered something into Alanna's ear. She nodded and smiled. "Would you like to volunteer to go?"
Without missing he beat, he answered, "You bet!"
"Owen," Neal interrupted. "But, bonehead, what about us? We'll all miss you."
The younger man with his dark curly hair seemed confused. "You missed me before when I transferred."
"Exactly. And to think that you'd be going into a new frontier instead of a new district like last time…? Are you crazy?"
"B-but…" he sniffled. "I want to go! It sounds so jolly!"
"Argh…"
Keladry smiled to herself as they started to argue again. She slipped away unnoticed. She hadn't spoke at all during that brief time. Keladry couldn't stand all the happiness and cheeriness anyway. Her mind was set on one thing. So, she went out the same back door that Lalasa had used earlier to drag Cleon and Roald out. She went through the alleyway and to the parking lot. No longer would Keladry have to bum rides or use the DJPF squad car.
She had her bike, the beautiful hunk of metal given to her by her former partner. Perhaps if he'd been at the ceremony, they'd have remained partners, but the Commissioner professionally ended the partnership with his gratifying eulogy of a speech. Keladry straddled her bike. The reinstated officer paused for a few seconds, calming her self and taking deep breaths.
The ride to the Sam's shop was long. Sam was the man whom Joren had left her bike with. It turned out that Sam was not only a weapons dealer, but an ace mechanic as well, hence Joren's familiarity with him since he needed both services (though the weapons part was illegal since Joren should have gotten weapons issued from Headquarters). On the way, she started passing the time by counting the number of streetlights she passed. Then she went on to figuring out the pattern of red lights and green lights at the network of streets downtown. It was pathetic how she tried to ward off boredom sometimes.
~~
The man came back out with small black bags full of clips, then several different types of semi-automatic handguns. Then the man unlocked the display case and reached for another gun, this one silver. It reminded her of something else, but she couldn't place it. Not that it mattered- she had to get back to the battle.
"Give this to Stone," the man commanded, handing it to her. He shoved a first aid kit into the bags along with the other weapons.
~~
She still had that gun. A third class officer retrieved it from the tree that very night of the attack. After Rikash's and Joren's fall, they sent groups of officers to weed out the rest of the estate for anymore potentially troubling people or objects. The officer, remembering from the Wanted posters' information, assumed that the guns belonged to Cleon. The redhead was a sharpshooter after all. And the rookie officer also thought that the weapons were too good to get rid of, as the protocol commanded in standard DJPF procedure.
She was half in a daze when Keladry arrived at her destination. She planted one foot on the concrete while swinging her other leg over the seat. Then off came her helmet, to settle on top of the seat. No one would steal it, though it was a neighborhood with a reputation. The thieves had come to generalize that all bikers in Tortall were too tough to mess with.
Ergo, leave all bikes the hell alone.
The light up sign was flickering. She pushed the door bar, admitting her entrance. The shop was poor. That was the reason there was not a sliding door. The place still smelled of cigarette smoke, gunpowder, and oil. The formerly white, now yellow linoleum on the peeled back in the corner. Glass cases of guns and all sorts of security alarms were scattered around the small shop. On the back wall hung accessories, and ads for other weapon related businesses.
"What do you want?"
Her head jerked toward the source of the voice. "Oh, hi, again. Remember me?"
"Yeah," he said gruffly. "So what do you want?"
She moved forward. She drew the silver gun meant for Joren from her holster and laid it down on the counter. He looked at her strangely. Her hands trembled a little. Keladry became mad at her self and stilled them. She cleared her throat distractedly.
"He won't be needing it."
Now the perplexity on the elderly man's face increased tenfold. "How can that be? Stone always needs 'em."
She cast her gaze on the floor, remembering what had happened.
~~
The hospital was not a cheery place. Well, not the one they were in. There was too much of disinfectant and sterilization. It was strict white walls and floors, save for the emergency entrance where unbelievable things happened. The furniture in the lobby was meant to cheer people with its teddy bears and balloons patterns. But the number of grieving people for lost or injured loved ones menaced the scene. A large number of them had relations with those who fought on the Presidential Estate.
The morning after the battle, a tired Keladry came to visit Lalasa, Roald, and K.J. who were still with the President. First Lady Thayet and the other important officials were also waiting for the speedy recovery of their Commander in Chief. The bodyguards—second class DJPF Officers—changed every few hours to eat and sleep. They also brought food to those waiting in the lobby.
"So, who's left? Is Stone in IU?" Cleon asked.
She shrugged helplessly. "I left around 1AM when he got out of surgery. He was in critical condition." Her voice lowered. "It's a miracle he was barely alive. After that fall…"
It became awkwardly quiet. They lingered around the door to the lobby with nothing to say. Roald moved aside for a lady with dark circles under her eyes to move past. The door slid shut again, with the sound of a sealing vacuum. Air automatically blew down from the vents above, chilling their shoulders. The conversation was still down. Every single one of them wanted to be anywhere but there.
"I'll go check up on him," Keladry announced suddenly, feeling like she had to get out of the situation.
"Should we go, too?" Neal offered. He honestly wanted to help in any way that he could. But no matter how he helped, he felt so distanced from the people. And he hated that. He wanted to feel their pain so he could say that he had grieved as well. But he wasn't. None of them were, except Keladry. "I owe him. The jackass, I mean, guy visited me when I was sick, so—"
She shook her head. She remembered the incident completely different from the way he was telling the rest of them. Joren had done nothing but insult Neal while he was there. "No, don't."
He pouted, but he seemed happy that he didn't have to go without looking too insensitive to the others.
She trudged down the hall. A camera moved along the hallway wall on a track just above her head. When it received visual identification via the security monitor technicians on the second floor, the doors marked Intensive Care slid open, revealing a brightly-lit hallway. The sound of an air conditioning fan was present. The whirring noise was a constant hum in her ears.
A doctor in green O.R. scrubs walked out a room, two manila folders in hand and a standard stethoscope around his neck. He nodded warily to Keladry. Bags were under his eyes. By the exhaustion, she could tell he was one of the few doctors staying up all night helping the wounded from the Presidential Estate battle. At the very end of the hall, Special Type DJPF Officers were guarding the President's room. He had not suffered as much as they all thought, and would be healthy enough to undergo interrogation by the Council's chosen lawyers and jury soon.
Room 105 was her partner's room. The bold engraved number was above a door to her left. She paused before pressing the keypad. All of a sudden, she turned around and ran across the hall to an equipment closet. All janitorial closets and related function closets had regular swinging doors, and not sliding ones. Keladry frantically flung the door open and turned on the light.
Was this same Keladry Mindelan, the first class officer and hero, a nervous and jittery young woman as well? She was so unsure of herself, and what Joren was bound to say.
" …You're nothing, Mindelan. You're a hero, they say. It doesn't matter. You're nothing. This world is nothing. I've faced enough shit from the world already. Why should I be apart of it anymore? Why the hell should you? Because you want all that glory and fame that Trebond gets? God, you're such a little child."
She angrily kicked the metal rack on which pillows and sterile wrapped blankets were placed. Then she took a deep breath and marched out the closet. What did she have to be afraid of? Joren could say anything he wanted, treat her anyway he wanted, but he wouldn't haze her. She wouldn't let him. After all, she'd done her fair share of fighting. Luckily, no one had seen her strange behavior. It was hard enough explaining her feelings.
She set her shoulders, raised her chin, and proceeded to Joren's door. She pushed the keypad buttons a little bit harder than necessary. With the familiar sound of air being let out a vacuum, the door slid open to the left.
And in front, an empty bed greeted her.
The white sheets looked untouched, not even slept in. The IV bags that were present at the bedside the night before was missing. Any bit of evidence of her blonde partner had disappeared. Perhaps she was in the wrong room. She had to be. But where else would they take Joren? Was he back into surgery? What else could they possible do to them besides cut him up and give him stitches?
A nurse with dirty blonde hair in a bun was carrying a heart monitor from a table to a cart. She looked up when Keladry entered while wheeling the monitor toward the back of the room. "Yes, may I help you?"
"Uh, yeah. I'm looking for Officer Joren Stone. He was in here last night just out of surgery."
The woman, probably in her thirties, polished her manicured nails to her blouse sleeve, yawning as she did so. "I wasn't here. I'm sorry." She dropped her hand. "Wait! Did you say Stone?"
Keladry nodded impatiently. "Where is he?"
The nurse bit her lip. She turned away from the officer to face the cart. "I'm sorry. They told me he was… gone."
"Gone?" she frowned. "So, he's out of critical condition?"
"No, no, sweetie. Er, he's gone."
And then Keladry, unable to take in the full meaning of the words, simply walked out. The nurse called back to her, trying to go after her, but Keladry broke out into a run. She had to tell the others the news. She wouldn't let it be done by some nurse who obviously didn't care what effect her news could have. Something told her that no one but her would care as much, but that didn't matter. For some godforsaken reason, she did care and the truth remained.
He was gone.
~~
Sam, the mechanic and weapons dealer, had never seen someone so out of it in his full 54 years of life. He'd seen a lot of strange and terrible things. People who went into shock in the midst of a bloody, brutal invasion… sobbing mothers and children besides their houses—houses that contained bullet holes. Men who cried out to their loving mothers as they bled to death. The young woman in front of him, an officer by the way she was dressed so primly, was staring out into space, looking as if someone had just shot her sister… or possibly given her a root canal.
"Are you sure Stone won't be needing the Quicksilver?" he asked.
She blinked. At first, her confused eyes signaled that she didn't know where she was. Then it all came flooding back to her as reality set in. She sighed and pointed to the gun set on the counter. "Take it."
Keladry began to blink more rapidly. Her eyes felt so strange. "Just take it back. He won't need it. I'll pay you for keeping my bike. I appreciate the added features, too."
He started to chuckle. "Youth these days. Cracks me up. I'll hold the gun for Stone."
"Don't you get it?" She angrily leaned forward and grabbed the older man by his grease-stained shirt. She yanked him halfway over the counter. His beard hairs tickled her wrists from where they shown behind her gloves, but her fury did not let her notice it. Instead, she stared Sam straight in the eye and hissed. "I said that he wouldn't be needing it."
"And who said I wouldn't?"
Her eyes widened. She whirled around to see the speaker. "No…"
Joren moved forward and picked up the gun. He shined it with his sleeve. Then, he tucked it into the waistband of his black jeans. "Pay you later, Sam. Just ignore her."
"Right."
She stared at the newcomer with an open mouth. She could barely whisper. "Joren." Her eyes subtly became moist. She blinked some more. "But they said you were gone…"
He frowned-- Kel thought she'd never see that familiar frown ever again. "Who are you talking about?"
Her heart started beating faster. He was back from the dead. And he pretended as if nothing had happened at all. There he stood, in his black civilian clothes like he'd just come from the pub. "The hospital!"
"Oh. Well, yeah," he shrugged carelessly. "I broke out of there after I woke up from the stupid drugs they put me on. Wanted to test me after they found something strange in my blood." The corner of his mouth curled upwards in a secret smile.
Silence.
It was amazing how these many moments of silence had occurred in her life as of late. Keladry couldn't take her eyes off of him. Deep inside, she was afraid that if she let him out of her sight for a second, he'd be dead again. Then she would be disenchanted. He sensed her emotions, though he didn't want to, and decided to excuse them from Sam's gawking presence.
"See you," he said to the older man, who nodded curtly. He motioned for Keladry to follow him outside. As they exited the shop, she searched with her eyes for the Black Knight. It was nowhere to be found. Maybe he had hidden it in the back where it would not be seen. After all, if he'd sneaked out of the hospital, he must not want to be found.
"It's at HQ. Wanted to work on it a bit before riding again," he explained when he noticed her curiosity.
"Oh."
He removed the helmet from where it sat and tossed it to her. "We'll take yours. I don't feel like walking home, and I own this bike anyway."
She bristled, forgetting her awe and confusion at his appearance. "What do you mean, you own it?"
"I paid for it, remember?"
She thought back to the time when he had indeed purchased the bike for her on their first mission. An idea popped into her head. "If that's true, then I own your bike. I bought it back for you at Galla"
He straddled the bike and glanced over his shoulder. "Nice try. But I don't think so." He started it up. "Are you getting on or are you walking home, Mindelan? I couldn't care either way."
"Getting on," she replied and reluctantly seated herself behind him. A million memories flooded her brain. The wind blowing in her hair, the rapid pounding of her heart, the adrenaline coursing through her veins… arms encircling his waist, afraid that she may be thrown off. But he wouldn't let her fall. And she didn't.
This time, she kept her hands near his hips, refusing to get as close as they were that day. He'd hurt her, though he did not know that he did. His impassivity wounded her far worse than all the villains of the world. It wasn't fair. Did people call this justice? Was this why it was the subject of movies and soap operas?
They rode in silence at a moderate speed towards the DJPF Headquarters. No patterns of stoplights occupied her thoughts now. Through the helmet's open visor, she studied his light blonde hair. The color was something you didn't see on a person past the age of two. After that, hair supposedly got darker. But not his. If his skin hadn't tanned slightly during their adventures, she would have asked if he or anyone in his family were albino.
The familiar buildings of the Dominion Jewel Protection Force loomed ahead. Joren sped up. The constant noise of the bike became a decibel louder. Both leaned into the next off ramp curve, out of habit, and leaned forward when they went up another ramp into the multilevel garage.
He parked the bike on the second level and turned it off. Keladry was eager to get off the bike and away from him. All these emotions welling up inside were bothering her. She had a simple life already. She worked for the DJPF. She had friends who cared about her. She'd improved a lot in the way of being a workaholic.
He did not notice her apprehension. Instead, Joren stood where he was. The Special Operative eyed the bike, examining it like he was at a motorcycle showcase. He rested his foot against the back tire, lightly tapped it once with his toe before turning back to her expectantly.
"You missed the ceremony," she said flatly.
He noted her formal uniform attire. "What ceremony?"
"They reinstated me, Cleon, and you. Though, they thought you were… gone… and Commissioner turned it into a semi-eulogy. It was pretty horrible," she confessed. For some reason, she thought she would be blushing by now. Good thing she'd had practice in keeping her emotions hidden. It was becoming increasingly difficult.
He snorted derisively. "Figures. That's the old geezer for you."
She cleared her throat. "So, are you going to tell them you're alive and coming back to work?"
"Later."
"Oh." She folded her arms across her chest. They stood there. Nothing could be said. He looked around the garage, noting different cars, both squad cars and civilian vehicles. He looked as bored as she'd been at the ceremony. How could he just stand there like nothing had happened? Didn't he realize he'd died? Didn't that mean anything to him? "By Glory, do something! Do anything!"
He stared at her. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You want the patrol to come down here and bring me over to the main offices? Because they will, idiot. They won't believe I'm me because I'm still dead in their files until I officially report to Wyldon himself."
She winced as if he'd physically struck her. Evidently, she'd picked the wrong time to speak her mind.
"Now what the hell is this about?" he demanded with arms akimbo.
Keladry couldn't meet his eyes. She lowered her gaze to the ground. "Nothing."
His eyes… why did he have to stare at her with those piercing eyes? Couldn't he just realize that she was being weird and leave her alone? She had to get out of there right then or else she was going to say something that she really wanted to keep to herself. Then Joren would get the idea that she… What was it? Why couldn't she just say it?
"I'm going up to my room," she said quietly. She walked past him toward the clear elevator shaft. Before she could step inside, he grabbed her wrist and spun her around. Her heart beat faster. Blood drained from her face. She was as pale as the moon, she bet, under the garage lights.
He peered at her. After a minute of intense scrutiny, he sighed. "Aww, damn. You actually care, don't you?
"I have no idea of what you're talking about," she lied and tried to wrench her arm from him. He held tight and kept in her place. "Come on. Let me go. This isn't funny."
"Who said it was supposed to be?" he retorted. Now she assumed this was where he started to yell at her for being what she was. And for caring.
"I really have to leave, Stone. Stop it already. You're cutting off my circulation," she said a tiny bit stronger than before. He let her go. She started rubbing her wrist where he'd held her.
He casually put his hands in his jacket pockets. For the first time, she noticed that there was a name printed on the inside collar. It read: Jackal. She stared at it for the longest time, before he came closer to her.
She backed up a little, her back against the clear surface of the elevator shaft. "Uh…"
"Why do you care what happens to me?" he asked bluntly. His icy blue eyes met her hazel ones.
She shivered involuntarily. "You're my partner. Takes too much time getting readjusted to somebody else."
"Is that all?" he asked. She trembled. His face was inches from hers now. She could feel the heat from his breath against her cheek like she was sure he could feel hers. Keladry would have given up her entire salary for anyone to bumble in that very moment and interrupt whatever was happening. Her heart was going a mile per minute. If Joren didn't back away soon, she was afraid that he would--
He kissed her.
With his face tilted to the right, he gently leaned in and softly brushed his lips to hers. If Keladry had ever gone on a first date, she imagined this was what the kiss was properly supposed to be like. Sweet, unimposing, and short. It was nothing like the passion he'd shown her that fateful day in Galla when he poured out his heart to her in his attempt to grasp something alive and human within himself.
There was no passion, no feeling in here.
She pulled away, swallowing nervously. Her eyes darted all around, hoping for anyone at all to walk in. She turned her head and looked into the elevator. It was empty. She cursed silently. Joren removed one hand from his pocket and cupped a side of her face. His hands were warm for once. She reveled in the feeling because it paralleled the sensation of his kiss.
"I'm only going to say this once, so you'd better appreciate it and not tell anyone else," he said to her calmly.
"Yeah?"
He paused. Then he leaned forward again so that their mouths were an inch apart. With all the quietness he could muster, he whispered to her, "Thank you."
He kissed her again. And this time, he blew her mind away.
The texture of his lips was so unbelievable. He didn't press in as urgently and desperately as he had when tears had dripped from his cheeks. The urgency was replaced with a patient passion that welled up from within. The hand cupping her face moved to caress her shoulders and slide its way to her back. The other hand found its way out of his pocket and encircled her waist possessively, pulling her closer to him than before with her back still against the elevator shaft.
They caught a brief breath of air, then their lips met again and again and again. He spared her nothing.
Keladry couldn't bring herself to believe everything that was happening. Joren Stone was kissing her on his own free will, with no emotional baggage to make him impulsively do it. He was making her tingle all over. Her head was dizzy, like champagne bubbles were popping in her head. She was drunk on the feeling.
His embrace tightened. Having had no idea what to do, her hands had rested on his chest. No, they moved to encircle his neck, then tangle in his hair. She still had no idea what was wrong with him, but for once, she was just going to relax and enjoy it. With all her luck, she'd never get kissed ever again. So why not savor the moment, though false it may be?
His lips kissed a trail along her jawbone, then down her neck. By Glory, she wondered what he was doing. He unwound the scarf from around her neck and kissed the soft skin there. His hands traced patterns on her lower back. She shivered when his fingertips ran up and down her spine.
"Joren," she breathed. He silenced her again with another mind scrambling kiss. His tongue started to outline her lips. She briefly thought of movies and books where the men had used tongued the women. Keladry had always thought it vulgar and unrealistic. Most couples she knew existed just barely parted their lips let alone swap their spit. Not that she'd watched, but still. She could tell. Joren didn't do that. He mere outlined her soft pink lips and withdrew again to wet his.
It went on for so long. It had to be a dream. Nothing like this could ever happen to her. She was First Class Officer Keladry Mindelan. She didn't even have time for her family, let alone a love life. So how did she end up here? Why was she here? Couldn't she be in her dorm room, watching the latest in Tortall news?
Her arms slipped back down from his neck again as he loosened his hold on her. His fervent actions slowed down, returning to the innocent style of before. Finally, he stopped and nuzzled her neck.
"Keladry," he whispered to her.
"Hmm…" she had no voice was which to speak. Her mind was blank except for the euphoric scene that just occurred replaying itself over and over in her head.
The tip of his nose touched her ear. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw him smirk.
"By the way… that was a mistake."
She froze.
He pulled away quicker than her brain could register, and nonchalantly strode into the elevator behind her. She heard the click of the buttons as he pushed them. Her eyes widened. She reacted.
"YOU ASSHOLE!"
He lifted one eyebrow skeptically. "What did you expect? I'd turn over a new leaf? Honestly Mindelan, where's your common sense, hmm?"
She fumed at him, trying to form sentences to scream, but none could get past her now pursed lips. She seethed with fury towards her sly partner. She stomped into the elevator with him, winding back an arm to wipe that smirk off his face.
He caught her fist as easily as if she were some new rookie in the training center with Eda Bell and Hakuin Seastone. Her skill had gone down to non-existent because her anger was clouding her reasonable thoughts.
"You jerk, I can't believe you just did that!" she yelled as she yanked her hand back.
The elevator began to move up. He shrugged and challenged her with his casual expression to try something else. She couldn't, because she knew he'd only tease her more. No one had ever riled her temper like this. Maybe her whole world would really have been better off without him.
"Mindelan, Mindelan," he chided. "What a change is here!"
"You're one to talk," she muttered. They reached the bridge to the main building. The clear door parted for them, but they continued to stand where they were. A few posted lights from above provided interesting shadows to play across them. One covered his smirk. She was glad she could not see it then.
Nothing happened. Joren rolled his eyes. "So, what now?"
She marched past him. "I'm going to bed. Who needs enemies when I've got you as my partner?"
"You're just mad because I can make you shiver."
Keladry angrily glanced over her shoulder. "You're proud of that? By Glory!"
"Uh-huh. Whether I'm scaring the hell out of you, or sending you into euphoria…"
"Twisted mind, you have, Stone," she growled, picking up her pace as she furthered the distance between her and him on the bridge. He easily caught up, which only angered her further.
Joren shrugged his shoulders again. "I like to think everyone's a little twisted inside. Especially me." She stopped in her tracks. He stopped two steps ahead of her and whirled around. "What?
She folded her arms across her chest. "So what does that kiss mean? Are you messing with me or do you… possibly…"
"You tell me."
And with that, he left her as confused as ever.
~~
As soon as she entered her room, she leaned against the door and let out a deep sigh. It had been a long day-- a long and confusing day. She stretched her arms over her head and recalled everything that had happened.
Roald and Lalasa met his sister. Cleon became infatuated with Roald's sister. Neal remained as carefree and fun loving as always. Owen got himself a ticket to the greatest adventure in the world. Faleron's depression seemed gone for good, now the clever young man that everyone knew. Numair Salmalin and Daine Sarassri were handling the President's dilemma. Thom Trebond was finally home, taking his seat as the Head of Science once more. The Immortals were getting their freedom. The villains were either dead or apprehended. She'd even met and befriended Alanna Olau Trebond.
And then there was Joren.
"I never know whether I'm coming or going with that jerk," she said to herself. But then she decided that it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. After all, it could be worse.
Fin
~~
Author: There we are, the end of the first season of It Could Be Worse! Now, why am I calling it a season? Some of you haven't caught on yet the purpose of calling these episodes instead of chapters. And this is the reason. *smiles* Besides, this allows me to continue my story as long as I want to! I now have a reason to hang about the Tamora Pierce section of ff.net forever as a permanent resident author. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to think of any new and original stories starring Keladry and Joren (the most UNLIKELY couple of Tortall). Continuing ICBW is much easier.
I didn't think a futuristic Tortall would hit it so big. Ever since I started the whole entire K/J revolution with A Life Less Ordinary, my writing world has been turned upside down. I can't believe my life since then. So many authors have started writing K/J because of me. I can't help but tear up *sniff* and say how proud I am of them-- well, except for those who don't do the generic plot lines. Ex: "how can I hide my feelings for her while pretending to hate her and beat her up all the time?" and "If you suddenly kiss me for no good reason, I won't question it and just kiss you back like the author wants, Joren".
Just remember that memo that Jae and I made a while back about the rising populace of different types of fics and how generic some themes are becoming (I honestly swear that if I see another transportation fic without a REALISTIC reason. (Unrealistic meaning: wow! I just walked across the street and the whole world changed! I bumped into the Lioness! Oh crap, this is so cool! I think I'm going to run around and tell everything I know to everyone here so they can throw me in the loony bin! No, wait, they wouldn't do that! Because in Tortall, they don't question anything! They actually believe me, and don't take offense at my rowdy attitude. No guards will try to cut my head off while I mouth off at the characters I've despised…)
But… hey! If I just offended somebody, please, don't take it seriously.
It's all good.
Please, just think before you throw a story out there, huh?
I'd like to thank all the wonderful people who read my stuff (psst… that's you) and those who have helped and supported me through this time. Thanks to Newyn, for taking care of my web page more than I do. Thanks to Jaelawyn Noble, for being my main test audience (and partner in crime, muahahaha!). And if I've forgotten anyone, I appreciate you, too, so don't pout.
And seeing that I've successfully completed my first season, I'd like to take a mini vacation. Yes, that means I'll be gone for about… two weeks. Maybe three. *shrugs* But I am in need of REST! School still sucks! And then, all the other activities I'm in take up a lot of time! You don't know how busy I get! (Except for you, Lego-san… er… I mean, Legato-san. *SMACK* Ow!)
But don't fret! *Arnold Schwarzeneggar voice* I'll be back. *regular voice* Yeah! And I'll have ALLO and the first season of ICBW posted on my web page hopefully, much more convenient than reading at ff.net because I'll be including pictures and music. So, when I say at the end of every story "Go see my web page!" You really should. Just go to my profile and click the link.
Once again, many thanks, many good wishes, and many hours of sleep,
Sulia Serafine
P.S. I won't leave you empty handed while I'm on vacation. I've conveniently written up a whole entire episode for bloopers. Yes, you read that right. Bloopers. Give me a week from this posting, and I'll have 'em up.