It Could Be Worse (2nd Season)

Episode 18:

Shades of Gray

By Sulia Serafine

[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. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

BAD LANGUAGE (I. E. cursing, swearing…)!  E-mail me at silverwlng@aol.com okay? And you know the drill: titles or subjects of emails are fanfiction.net, s.serafine, or icbw.

NEW! EPISODE 4 OF THE GIFT IS NOW POSTED!

I'm still accepting people into the mailing list. That means you'll be told when the next episode is posted, as well as other tidbits of information about the series whenever I put them online. ALSO: Every now and then, as a pledge, I'll send everyone bonus material, such as drawings of ICBW characters and little random facts about ICBW.

~~

His mind was never clearer than when he was angry, especially to the point of murder. The world was made of crystal glass, and he could see straight through it. It was clarity that let him shamelessly justify his actions.  It was the clarity that ultimately tricked him into coming here.

Just as a wounded animal stops thrashing and knows it is about to die, did Joren march forward. He wanted to throw himself and be swallowed whole by the beasts that pursued him. Perhaps then he could be borne away from the world, the shining crystal glass with it's many reflecting facets… creating the illusion the wise men called life.

I did not choose. I was chosen.

It was a thought revisited from Day 1.

No use in questioning it now. Just walk in and take your seat in that electrifying chair.

He did not even pause by the main desk at the lobby when he entered. The man sitting there made no move to stop him. Of course he wouldn't. Though Joren had planned to surprise his former 'employer', he knew that it was impossible. The man knew everything, just as it was claimed. Joren's visit was expected by all the in the building.

The path before him was clear. They yielded to him and watched with intense gazes as he strode past. Everyone knew what was about to happen. And the solemnity in their faces was magnified tenfold as if the end of the world had come. Young foolish hands fumbled for their own holsters, but in the end, they allowed the fallen angel to pass them by.

"Please tell him I'm here," he asked the secretary in the waiting room. She spoke nothing into the intercom and merely pressed a button, which allowed the dark oak doors to slide open.

Then, there was a certain moment. The one where the heart thuds and the throat becomes dry, when a man suddenly finds himself short of breath and overcome by anxiety. Joren put all these sensations aside. He refused to be intimidated.

"Have we another assassination attempt?"

The white-haired man murmured the words almost immediately. Joren looked upon Enishi's youthful features with contempt. He took two steps swiftly forward while the doors behind him shut. As soon as they were alone, Joren raised his gun and pointed it at the mafia boss's head.

"I suppose it is so," Enishi said and arose. He walked out from behind his desk and came within arm's length of his visitor. The gun now pointed at his lower left ribs, where vital organs were most likely to be obliterated. Despite this, no fear or anxiety made itself known within the man. Only patience had a throne in this place.

Joren found the old, familiar doubt resurfacing. He mentally screamed at it to leave him, but it persisted until he spoke. "Aren't you going to do anything?"

"Why should I? You're capable of making your own decisions. Whatever you choose, I'm sure you'll be the better man for it."

A beguiling smile radiated from the older man's face, which brought searing pain to Joren's chest. The blond biker gasped slightly, overcome with an unidentifiable ache. His finger tightened on the trigger, the barrel of the gun inching closer to its target's abdomen.

"Do what you must. Don't let guilt stop you before the crime is even committed. And know why you choose this. Justification is a thing for fools, Joren. You know that better than I."

"Shut up!" Joren yelled. He raised his hand a little higher, his arm trembling where it was poised. "Just shut up for once. If it's my choice, I'm not going to foul it up by listening to you."

"It's a bit too late for that."

Somewhere outside, a new drift of snow was falling down in tiny little flurries across the city. Children in the schoolyard, braving the cold elements, stuck out their tongues and happily received their airborne nourishment, while others shivered beside their heaters and their furnaces. It was a quiet day, meant for cold stumbling about and watching the snow flurries float down like frozen down feathers.

A sharp piercing sound disrupted the tranquility of the moment. The shot reverberated from its origin, echoing off the walls of glass and brick. A person or two looked up from their task, frowning to themselves as to what the reason for the disruption might be. And after the sound had faded away into nothing, the memory of it was very readily banished from their minds. They returned to their winter work.

~~

Keladry paged Neal, informing him that she was going to run an errand and for him and Cleon to return to the investigation as soon as they were finished with lunch. Neal paged her back and asked what errand could possibly pull away her usually unshakable focus. She hadn't replied.

How could she expect them to understand why? She almost didn't understand it herself, but the feeling was there to stay. Just as Ulliver suggested, she was going to fight for him. Whether or not she would admit it, Keladry cared about her partner… more than should have been necessary… so much that it hurt. Yes, it hurt.

If Liam knew, he would say that Joren didn't deserve it. Joren didn't deserve her. But Liam was no longer in a position to tell Keladry what was good for her. It had been wonderful while it had lasted, but it was time to put away such fantasies and to pick up the burdens of reality. That Liam was her first boyfriend was no great milestone. The first person who ever kissed her was still Joren. The first to make her cry was still Joren. The first to make her aware of her faults and to want to be better was still that implacable man in the black jacket.

If it had been a perfect world, Keladry would have told him and he would have enthusiastically told her the same thing in return—that she meant the world to him and that she was the inspiration for his need to be human again. She despised wanting him. But she worshipped the idea of him finally needing her.

Keladry had traversed all of the DJPF station, asking of the whereabouts of Joren Stone. No one had seen him at all that day. He never came in, and if he did, he went straight to Buri and Flyndon. Since both superiors were busy, she had no choice but to keep searching without a clue.

Paging him was a wasted effort. He never answered. She tried three times and gave up. It was unfortunate that he didn't have anything on him that was traceable. She would have gladly liked to perform a search for the silver disks attached to his field uniform. There was no concrete way of knowing whether or not he was even wearing that uniform without raiding his apartment and peeking into his closet. Keladry relied on her lucky intuition for her information.

A lot of good has that done me over the last year. It's been about nine months since I first met him and… She frowned deeply. I'm…

Her gaze fell to the floor. She put aside the horrid feeling and lifted her head. Keladry took a deep breath and rubbed her arms reflexively though the cold did not bother her. She had braved the worst ice storms in the world. And not all of them came down from the sky.

I had no real idea of what to expect, she reflected. Even with Owen and Neal's warnings. It was like a dream from years ago rather than months in the past. Could it have been less than a year? It felt like another lifetime.

~~

Owen nodded. "Let me continue, Neal. So, Joren is a bit…"

"Stoic," Neal supplied.

"And overly professional."

"Stubborn."

"Non-social."

"Inconsiderate."

"Has a big problem with authority."

"Somewhat ruthless…"

"And well…"

"He's a jerk," they said in unison.

~~

Despite the well-drawn description of his personality, Keladry believed it still didn't delve past the surface of what really was Joren's soul. The volumes of his heart were secret and had not seen the light of day for many years. She also theorized that these same volumes were meant to be read, as all written things are, only… only Joren didn't know it.

"I'm not giving up on you," she whispered satisfactorily to herself.

~~

He stared at her for about ten seconds. Then, he began to look her up and down. Sizing her up. "Who the hell are you?"

She became slightly peeved. "I'm Lania Oakbridge, daughter to Councilman Upton Oakbridge? I'm a third class officer here."

He nodded slowly. "Right…" Then he stopped and brushed passed her. "Don't waste my time."

Another girl tried her luck as she met him at the information desk. He let out a frustrated sigh and waited for her to speak. This one had black hair tied back in a ponytail. She seemed a little better than the first. "Hi there! You're new here, aren't you? Can I show you around?"

Once again, he gave her a once over and spoke after five seconds. "Are you Keladry Mindelan?"

"Hell no!" she laughed bubbly.

"Then, goodbye," he turned on his heel and walked away. The girl was furious and screamed at him. He paid no mind and continued to move away until he came near Keladry. She rolled her eyes and supposed that she might as well talk to him.

"Hey!" she called over to him. When he didn't approach her, she pushed off the crates she was leaning on and came to him. Before Keladry could talk, he spoke with evident irritation.

"If you're going to hit on me, save yourself the trouble and walk away. I don't care for flirtatious girls, who don't know a damned thing about hard work," he spat. His voice was sharper than the finest chef's knife. Keladry folded her arms.

"No," Keladry replied, although annoyed by the hostility of his response. "I'm Keladry Mindelan. And you're obviously--"

"Joren Stone," he finished for her with a slight nod. "Thank Heaven, you actually look like you know what you're doing."

~~

The memory of their first meeting amused her now. How clueless she had been of the incidents that were to follow that first priceless moment in time. All the conditions had been perfect. A new partner, a grand mission, and an overwhelming urge to succeed. That had been the peak of her life, like her personal sun had reached its zenith and had stayed up there for days.

Afterwards… Well, who wanted to think of afterwards? She didn't want to. The in-between from then and now had been hell. She knew that most of what happened between them had formed the reason why she cared for him so much at the present, but she still resented that it had all happened. Keladry wished to dwell on the wonderful first memories. They had been such a great precursor of what was to come.

She recalled the first time they went to Commissioner Wyldon together. After they had been dismissed, she had pleaded with him to at least try to care. And he had so arrogantly responded that the only things he could care about were his bike and himself—more importantly, the bike.

A sly smile crept onto Keladry's face. It had been disconcerting then, but how she wished he would say it again to her now. He was less burdened then. He was more at peace with the lot that Heaven had given him.

So what does that tell me about him now? That he wants to shoot himself because it hurts so badly? Her inner hope was nearly dashed to pieces, but she willed herself to remain strong. For him.

Two hours passed by. She discovered that she cared very little for the Tkaa Project, which she had been assigned to look for. Dozens of officers were working on it, she reasoned. They did not need a perfectionist like her who only bumbled around, like her partner claimed. No, her attention was demanded by something else. Someone else.

It was at his apartment door that she finally stopped to rest. Fully aware that he was not at home, she still leaned up against his door, pressing her forehead to the cool surface. Would it be too sentimental to say that she suddenly smelled his scent there? Keladry had never been that mushy or romantic, but it felt so right.

"I love you, Joren Stone," she said to the empty air around her.

And that had felt so right as well.

~~

His hand trembled. The gun clattered to the floor. Joren stepped back, though a long time had passed and he knew that Enishi would not collapse. The white-haired man stood like an unmovable rock, despite the bullet that had just pierced his body. Even then, Joren stared at the smoking bullet hole in the other man's side.

"How can you…" he croaked hoarsely. "This is impossible!"

Enishi looked down at himself. "Impossible for you, perhaps, but not for me."

He stepped forward, almost nose to nose with a person whom he had once considered his brightest star in the sky. Joren's expression suddenly became calm.

"I see. A bullet proof vest."

"Oh?" Enishi chuckled. He took the blonde's hand and guided it under the suit jacket, to press against the spot where the bullet had struck. When Joren withdrew his arm, he discovered his fingertips dripping with warm, bright red blood.

Immediately, he stumbled backwards, shaking his head in disbelief. He pointed wildly at Enishi with the bloodied hand. "No! That isn't fucking possible! How can you just stand there like nothing has happened?"

Enishi sighed. "The time is not yet ripe after all. I had been hoping…"

He calmly walked behind his desk and pressed the intercom. He muttered something that Joren could not hear—did not want to hear. His nerves were frazzled. Joren was using all his self-control not to sink to the floor in shock.

He had wanted to strike out at the man before him for so many years. After the grievances he'd endured because of Enishi Yukishiro, he wanted revenge. Joren wanted divine retribution from someone who claimed to be a divinity himself. Now he had done his long-awaited task.

The result had been the stuff of fairy tale. For here Enishi stood, as if only a tiny pebble had been launched at him. What did that make him? A god? A demon?

An angel? Joren wondered, remembering how halo like the waves of white hair about Enishi's head had always seemed. He averted his eyes.

The doors slid open. Joren could hear footsteps, but he had no courage to look up with. When a pair of feet stopped in front of him, he slowly allowed his eyes to travel upwards to find a matching face. What he saw incited new vigor within him.

"You!"

Liam smirked. "Yes. Me."

Enishi gestured toward the exit. "Please make sure that he arrives home safely, Liam. I suppose today is not our lucky day."

"So he won't be joining us?" his aide questioned, though he locked his steely gaze on Joren.

"Not today," Joren said with venom in his voice. He glanced back once at Enishi, the mountain that would not fall, and left the room. Liam also looked back at his employer, though the expression on his face was not of the displeasure that Joren possessed, but something deeper… like the green-eyed monster, Jealousy.

"You'd better catch up with him," Enishi reminded.

"He's not always going to be ahead of me, Sir," Liam declared heatedly. "Not in Keladry's heart, and certainly not in yours."

His employer sneered and roared back with a voice that reverberated in the air. "You are not going to hear me say which of you is my favorite son! Get out of my sight at this moment or else never be in my sight ever again!"

Liam bowed curtly. "Whatever you say, Sir."

The indolent young man left the room in pursuit of his rival, while Enishi remained by his window, seething with an anger so great, the world had never known its like. Earthquakes, volcanoes, hurricanes… The energy emitted by all of these things had no power compared to him. He laid his hand on the back of his chair, flexing his fingers until a part of the chair had broken off into his hand, burned, and fell to the floor as ash.

~~

When Joren reached his hallway, he spotted his partner, sitting and leaning against his own door. She stood when she saw him, a joyous expression on her face, like he had risen back from the dead to come to her. He set his jaw rigidly and strode toward her in even, measured steps.

"Mindelan, what do you want?"

She balled up her fists at her side. "I was worried about you."

He narrowed his eyes. "What's so different about today that you wait for me at my door?"

"Because I finally admitted it," she whispered. Her features softened, and she reached a hand toward him, brushing away a lock of blond silk that had fallen across his brow.

He took a step back. "Admitted what?" He resolutely stared past her at the wall. "That I'm a lost cause? That there's nothing left but for me to go commit suicide, like normal depression victims do?"

He would have gotten the same effect if he'd slapped her. Keladry put her injury aside and came forward. She had never voluntary shown such affection, and here he took it for granted. She forced all of it away and embraced him with all the strength she had in her heart to give.

"Don't push me away, Joren," she begged. Keladry closed her eyes and pressed her face into his neck. "You have nothing to lose."

Secretly, she had been preparing herself for the shove that would throw her to the wall. Miraculously, none came. After a few seconds, she loosed her hold and looked at him. Joren's forlorn eyes were focused on her.

"The blue… It's faded from your eyes. It's like… shades of gray," she murmured.

"You're right about what you said," he told her in a way that felt like they were sharing a dear secret that no one else could ever know.

"I am?"

His lips formed a bittersweet smile. "I have nothing to lose because there is nothing in me to be lost." He leaned forward to further concrete the confidentiality of their secret. "It's already empty inside."

Keladry hesitantly brushed his cheek with her fingertips. She laughed nervously with tears in her eyes when he reached up and held her hand there. Her heart was beating a million times a minute, and her stomach was fluttery, like butterflies had taken flight there.

Joren could not help but laugh a little, too. The moisture in his eyes almost restored the color in his irises, but Keladry saw that it was still a little dark. She took a deep shuddering breath.

"Well then," she whispered. "If you're empty, then we'll just have to fill you up with all new things. Better things. A chance to start over."

"Can it be done?" he frowned.

"We'll just have to see, won't we?"

He nodded. And though neither of them could explain it… that felt right, too.

~~

Author: Ta da! Major episode released! Let it be known that I'm probably going to fail English because I decided to do this instead of my paper. (Oh, man… I can't even remember the due date…. I am so screwed!)

Well, it's three more episodes left until the end of the season! Let's see if I can get them out before Halloween, eh?

Review or e-mail! I need your feedback! Thanks for reading!