It Could Be Worse (2nd Season)
Episode 19:
Breaking
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.
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.
~~
Neal stressfully ground his teeth while he went through the access records of the facility that had once created and housed the Tkaa Project. Everyone's alibi matched. There was nothing in the security system to indicate an infiltration. Neither had any of the guards noticed anything suspicious that night.
"Talk about your super sleuth mysteries… I hope they put lots of other smart people on this. My head is about to split into halves here," he mumbled. He glided across the room backwards on his office chair, slowing down and lightly bumping into the back of Cleon's chair.
The redhead sneezed.
"Getting sick?"
"I hope not," Cleon replied. He scratched his nose. "Dude, this doesn't make any sense."
"Tell me about it. I can't find squat about anything here!" Neal exclaimed.
His partner turned around and began tapping him on the shoulder. "Hey, what's with the Council of Tusaine dropping by so much? I thought they weren't interested in what the Feds did."
"They shouldn't be. The Science and Technology Department claims to have created a program capable of things that should be near impossible. Nothing can decipher all codes in existence. I bet you that they just embellished and the only thing the program is good for is hacking into school databases to change grades." He paused. "I wish that had been around while we were in the Academy…"
Cleon shook his head. "That still doesn't explain why the log has random Council Members dropping by the Fed building. It says here that they access all different parts of the building, but… I don't know. It doesn't feel right."
"They have a reason to be there. They're the legislative ones. After that whole Immortals mess, I'd be suspicious toward 'hush-hush' science projects, too." He held up one finger. "Don't forget, the Council funds that department. I'd be worried about my investment, too, if I were them." He sneezed.
"Whoa, are you getting sick?"
Neal glared at him. "If I do, I'm going to blame it on you. I've barely been off the disabled list! I don't need to be sick right now!"
The redhead chuckled. "It's the cold weather, man. We're Tortallians. We're too used to warmth in the winter. This place up north… it's…"
"Aggravating," Neal finished. He turned, and pushed off from the back of Cleon's chair with both feet —causing the redhead to brace himself against the desk.
"Hey!"
"I'm going to buy some chicken soup in one of those Styrofoam cups from downstairs. Want some?"
His companion's fingers darted dexterously over the keyboard. He focused on the screen. "No, I'm cool. I think I'm going to make some calls to the Council. You know, play the detective and private investigator like Dick Tracy."
Neal stood up and rolled his eyes. There was a certain element of mirth absent from his friend's features. He didn't wish to be biased, but after seeing Cleon act like a clown so many times, he found it hard to believe the sharpshooter was serious. Neal was tempted to demand his real identity. Surely, the man seated there was an imposter.
He settled for an agreeable nod of the head and started for the door. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say, Dick."
Cleon didn't notice him leave. He concentrated on his task at hand, gnawing on his lower lip.
~~
After all had been said aloud, silence overwhelmed them. It seemed that the reality of their revelations had suddenly dawned on them. Though the anger and hopelessness had taken a back seat, it did not mean there was to be love and peace for all. They entered his apartment and sat down, neither quite sure what to say.
"You want a glass of water or something?" he asked with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Yes, thanks," she replied, like she would to any host or hostess. It was so odd to her that everything was out in the open and nothing had really occurred afterwards. As she watched him fill up the glass, Keladry noticed how tired his movements were.
Is he really going to start over? Or did he just say that to shut me up? She averted her eyes and berated herself for doubting. But the feeling came naturally. The way he carried himself wasn't as proud and fearless as when she first met him.
"So," he began when he sat down and handed her the drink. "How are… things?"
She felt better now that he was making an effort. Although, now that he did act the way she wanted him to, Keladry surprisingly started to miss the difficult, unmanageable young man that he once was. This new Joren bothered her. And she didn't know why.
"A selection of officers have been appointed to deal with stolen software from the Federal computer programmers," she mentioned, knowing ironically that she should have been working on that investigation instead of being there with him. Keladry sipped her water and directed her gaze to the floor so that she would not give her thoughts away.
"Federal? So no one from Tortall is flying in to stomp over jurisdiction?" he asked almost bitterly. When she heard the inflection of his voice, Keladry almost became relieved at the thought of hearing his sardonic, cynical opinions again.
He frowned. "What's with you?"
She shook her head. "Uh, nothing. What have you been up to?"
"The usual. Pulling the trigger on infamous mafia leader and whatnot." Joren shrugged, brushing back his pale blonde bangs from his eyes. He gazed coolly at the tops of his knees, counting each microscopic piece of lint he could discern with his naturally sharp eyesight.
There's the asshole I know, she thought in morbid satisfaction, sipping her water again. She smirked. "Now, really. Be serious. What have you been doing? Riding around the city, feeling sorry for yourself?"
Joren blinked. "I am being serious. I did shoot him—he didn't die, unfortunately. As for riding around the city wallowing in my misery, I wasn't alone." The corner of his lip curled into a half-snarl. "Your ex-boyfriend was ordered to follow me home and make sure I stayed here." He faced her. "Did you ask him? If he knew anything about the case you're on?"
Her mind was once again a whirlpool of confused thoughts. Keladry's mouth hung open, slightly in disbelief. She briefly wondered if it would be inappropriate to laugh at the supposed truths he had just presented her. But then again… Joren never lied to her.
"You're… serious," she whispered slowly.
"Very," he answered, still possessing an expression of contempt for the latest significant other to depart Keladry's life. The blond biker got up and walked to the closet. "I'm sure Liam is gone by now, so I think I'll go pay Flyn a visit. Just to tell him I'll be starting on the case." He paused. "I have to submit the request."
"Which isn't really a request at all," Keladry finished softly. "He'll put you down on the assignment because you won't take 'no' for an answer." She stood and approached him. Hesitantly, one hand reached out and touched his shoulder. "Stone—" she stopped short. "Joren, we need to talk more."
He selected his jacket and shut the closet once again. "We've talked, though. What else is there to talk about?"
"Plenty!" she exclaimed. "Besides, I'd like to think that you and I might talk about anything. Right?"
Silence was her answer as he turned to her, wordlessly shrugged on his jacket, and went past. Keladry couldn't believe her eyes. Weren't they supposed to be more open with each other now? What about their hopes and dreams? She angrily spun around and followed him. Her fingers curled around his arm just as he reached the door.
He didn't turn to look at her.
"Joren. Joren? Please. Stay a little longer. There's everything in the world to stay for and talk about," she urged. Keladry loosened her grip when she realized that she might be hurting him. His hand fell by his side and his gaze was still on the floor, but at least he had remained instead of fled. Fearing the worst, his partner placed her fingertips under his chin and lifted his face up so he was forced to see her.
He stared with his eyes, blue in the light and gray in every other direction. His mouth was fixed in a frown and his brow creased to show that his thoughts were grave and melancholy.
"I need some time," he muttered, lowering his eyes back to the ground and jerking his head away from her touch.
Keladry, pride hurt, stepped back and attempted to appear unfazed by his reaction to her gentle approach. She nodded, fists clenched by her side. It was time to hop off the cloud and resume the old and familiar stance. Her mask went on as easily as ever. And so she stood, calm emotionless face… carefully indifferent to any subject that might give her cause to scream and cry and express all these horrible emotions in a tantrum.
Guilt wormed into the fray. Joren closed his eyes, turned to her, and opened them again. "It's hard… It's… you know what I mean. I need… time."
"Don't we all," she replied. I was so sure this time that you would… that you would…
He turned to the door and departed from his apartment, leaving her standing there like so many times before.
~~
"You're crazy."
"You are in denial."
"You're damn right I'm in denial. I could lose my job!"
Cleon rolled his eyes. "Details, details. Are you going to help me or not?" He faked moistening eyes. "I'd understand if you don't want to. I mean, what does 'best friend' mean anyway? They're just words and we're just dudes—"
"Don't you dare guilt-trip me to break into the Science and Technology department using my employer's security code," Faleron hissed, glaring.
Cleon rested both hands on each side of the Communications screen and offered his best sincere smile. "I would never ask you to do that. I'm just asking… for you to get me access through the Council, since they have the executive authority and I don't."
The former thief snorted and glanced around him. "You think it's an inside job, then. Someone in the Council is abusing their power to break into the Feds' little breakfast nook out here in Tusaine and steal their computer games? Some… some interloper is screwing with things and will probably sell the software to a hostile foreign power or rebel faction?"
The redhead twiddled his thumbs. He wouldn't have put it into so many descriptive words, but when Faleron didn't want to be talked into something, he tended to use double speak. "Maybe."
"Why didn't you tell this to Flyndon?"
"Are you kidding me? Suspecting the Council? Flyndon would take me off the case on the spot, dude!"
Faleron weighed several options in his mind and immediately produced a response. "We have a case, though. If you've got the evidence, you can convince him to start an investigation. The Immortals Affair is a perfect excuse to suspect stuffy government protocol."
"Hey! What are you two talking about?" Neal asked as he re-entered the room with his steaming cup of soup. He lifted up a spoon to his mouth and began sipping the hot liquid.
"Nothing much," Cleon shrugged. "Just stuff."
"Suspecting the Federal Council," Faleron truthfully told him, shooting his best friend a dirty look. "The media would be over it within seconds. I don't know who leaks information to them, but they always know." He folded his arms across his chest. "I don't think it's a great idea, but you've got your leads…"
Neal continued sipping his soup slowly to avoid burning his tongue. He swallowed. "Personally, I think it's crazy, but he's right. If you've got some evidence that looks weird, maybe we should check it out."
"So does that mean you'll help me do my investigation? You'd only use Ms. Sarrasri's security code for a second or two. Come on! What do ya say?" Cleon clasped his hands together pleadingly.
His friend remained unmoved. "No. Don't think so."
"Please? Dude! Buddy! Amigo! You just have to! Flyndon will never let me do my own investigation!"
He personally blamed Commissioner Wyldon for this. The Tortallan transfer officers rarely heard from Wyldon any more, but they knew he kept in touch with his Tusaine counterpart (making sure they weren't driving Flyn crazy). Wyldon always spoke his mind about his former officers, and Flyndon would be a fool not to listen to him. Cleon imagined himself bending golf clubs over his knee and hurling them down at the commissioner's feet. But picturing that would not help him get any closer to the possibility of a private investigation into the inner circle of the Council.
Faleron caved in to his pleadings, though more gracefully and peacefully than Cleon or Neal would have expected. He brushed invisible lint off his shoulder and cleared his throat. In a very decisive, commanding voice, he said, "Pick me up in one hour—no sooner and no later. Don't wear your uniform and be prepared to support my comfortable lifestyle should I suddenly find myself unemployed. I'll be expecting tonight's succulent, four-course dinner at your expense. And I'd also like to borrow your new Holoscreen for two weeks. Mine is being repaired. Have I made myself clear?"
"…"
"The man drives a hard bargain," Neal commented.
Cleon glared at him. "Shut up, you."
"It's not like you can't afford his proposal. Our salaries are quite—"
"I said, shut your face."
Neal answered by loudly slurping his soup.
~~
The swirls of ceiling plaster were actually quite fascinating if stared at for a lengthy amount of time. Keladry had been aware of this for a number of years. Often, in her life had she laid down on either floor or bed, just to step back and look at everything in retrospect. And while pondering her next scheme to rise through the ranks, the overachiever would frequently become absorbed in the patterns in the ceiling plaster.
"Maybe I ought to get a skylight. I could stare at the clouds instead of the plaster," she muttered to herself, her fingertips rubbing at her ear lobe just because the ends of her hair tickled it.
She closed her eyes and sighed. Five billion problems in the world and she was deciding to ignore them so she could lie there on her apartment floor.
This isn't like me, she thought. Keladry mentally rolled her eyes. Has anything lately been like me? I should go to the station right now and submerge myself in paperwork. No, better yet, I could crack open the stupid case and just get back the stupid Tkaa-thing. Whatever it is! I don't care what it's called, as long as I get it back and get considered for promotion!
Keladry sat up. It came to her that her that the particular train of thought she just had was selfish and uncompassionate.
"Was it really?" she asked aloud. Knowing that to be the truth of things, her whole disposition because inwardly upset and distraught at the idea of becoming an emotional vacuum. Once, long ago, a little girl had wanted to help people and become as good and kind as her hero, Alanna Olau Trebond.
And somewhere along the way, that little girl grew into an unfeminine, antisocial workaholic. All at once, she wished that she had never even heard of Alanna or that she'd never declined that mission to track down Ozorne (with a new partner whom she had never met). So many regrets… but it would take more than brute strength and iron will to turn back the hands of time and flip the heavy hourglass.
Her pager beeped. Keladry lifted up her wrist, lazily, squinting at the tiny screen.
"Stick head out window."
One eyebrow rose suspiciously. But she stood up anyway and did as the anonymous message bid her. She effortlessly slid open her only latched window and leaned out. Whatever it was, it had to be good. A person should never interrupt another person in the middle of serious contemplation.
Okay, not that serious, but it is for me, she thought grumpily. Keladry looked around until she spied a familiar black and red motorcycle ride into the parking lot and come to a halt under her window. The figure on the bike removed his helmet and looked up.
"I thought you went to the station," she called down, propping up her chin on her palm.
"I didn't bother. Just paged him and told him how things were going to be. He didn't have a choice." Joren shrugged. "I heard Red is doing something that he shouldn't; he's roped Thief Boy into it, too. You want to go and chew them out, Mindelan?"
"Mindelan?" she echoed, incredulously. It felt as if muscles surrounding her heart were constricting, squeezing it until she couldn't bear it. "What happened to 'Kel'?"
He didn't respond.
"Joren?" Keladry called down. She was tempted to bitterly call "Stone" but that wouldn't have helped things either.
The blond young man examined his gloves and appeared as if he was considering something. He raised his face toward her again and displayed a partially remorseful expression. "I screwed up. I'm always going to screw up and I'm not always going to have the sense to say sorry. You know that." He held his arms out. "What you see is what you get unfortunately… Kel."
Rather taken aback by his self-condemnation, Keladry's heart sank. She detested seeing someone not willing to forgive himself. But she hated this even more, for the mere fact that it was Joren below her, with clouds of grief hanging over his head. Before she knew what she was doing, she leaned out even more and whistled to him to catch his attention again.
"So are we going to stop Cleon and Fal from their hopeless scheme or what?"
"I forgot to keep up the maintenance on your bike," he told her. "I meant to do it yesterday—"
"There's room on the back of that thing for two, isn't there?" she called down, surprised to hear coyness in her own voice.
He also noticed and smirked. "That is if your ass hasn't gotten any fatter, Mindelan."
"Watch it or I'll break your nose, Stone," she replied. Keladry resisted the urge to laugh. They were tossing insults at each other like they used to, but this time, it wasn't meant in malice. It felt nice to do so—even if, to the average observer, it seemed pathetic way to express affection.
"Break my nose? So, what, does that mean we get to wrestle in the garage again? I wouldn't mind. I'll get that Bomb Squad Nerd to come down and watch. Just to throw it in his face." The threat was meaningless, but it caused Keladry to cast him a dirty look and shake her head.
"I thought you were going to try and start over! Turn over a new leaf!"
Joren forced a smile. "I said it would take time. I'm always going to be an asshole. You know that. Trying to act any other way isn't me."
"And for some stupid reason, I'm happier when you act like an asshole," she groused. Keladry made a mental note to get a psychiatrist for that certain problem. She zoned out for so long on the particular subject that Joren was forced to get her attention again.
"Just get down here!" he yelled, his voice as gruff and impatient as ever.
"What did you say? Take my time?"
"Mindelan! Be a good girl and get down here or else I'm going to come up there and throw you over my shoulder caveman style. You got it?"
She snorted. "As if you don't want to."
He shifted around on his motorcycle seat that he straddled. His voice became husky. "We'll talk about that matter in private, Mindelan."
Keladry blushed and left her window to meet him.
~~
Author's note:
I think I'm losing my touch. Oy.
Well, I'm sorry this took so long! I'm at my wit's end, here. School is kicking my ass, daily. The only thing I have that's not stress causing is the new boyfriend-creature in my life. I'm still speculating whether or not this is one big elaborate dream, but… eh. *shrugs* He amuses me with his antics and he, like myself, doesn't like public displays of mushy lovey-dovey CRAP. Could I ask for anything more?
Don't worry, LB. I still love you more than him. Hey—we still have that contract for a hot, scandalous affair every year, don't we? The "Labor Day Lust-fest" or something? What did you call it? Dude, just call me up and we'll have a go. *laughs* Just kidding. You'll always be my boy, even if you're not… my 'boy'. *prays boyfriend-creature never reads this* Yeah. You know what I mean. *blows kiss* Muah.
Please review and email! Tell me what you think! Are Joren and Keladry getting weirder or what?!