A/N: Well, I'm back again for seconds! And not of Shion's curry, either! ^_~
Allen, baby, do yo' thang!
*chibi Allen hops in, duck taped to a chair*
Allen: Uh, um. . .m-midnightoasis does NOT own Xenosaga, the characters, or any of the rest and- - -OH MY GOD IF YOU COME NEAR ME AGAIN I'LL SCREAM AND. . .mmmrrph!! o_o
Me: Yare, yare, Allen. I don't bite. . .much! ^_~
Allen: MMRPH!!
Me: Don't worry, I'll get you back to lil miss Chief in one piece. Just think of it as me renting you!
*Hammer pops in waving a stack of 100 dollar bills*
Hammer: It's all about the Benjamins!
Me: Darn tootin'!
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The Glass is Half Empty: The Life of Allen Ridgeley
Chapter 2: Catch me if I fall
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Lightning crashes all around me now
I hear its sound
Broken down wings can carry us
To where the people stare
Fall asleep against the windowpane
Outside the rain covers everyone
Now we're never gonna see the sun
And
this is the sound of the broken down
And this is the last train home…….the underground
And this is the fall
don't catch me if I fall
Just catch me when I fall
Don't catch me if I fall back to the ground
~American Hi-Fi, "This Is The Sound"
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Jonathan Ridgeley was a good man. A rich man, yes. Brilliant? Absolutely. But he retained the essence he'd always had and remained a good man. He was always old-fashioned at heart.
He grew up in poverty in the slums of Miltia, what had once been called a ghetto in ages past. He spent a great deal of his adulthood there as well, along with his wife Elaine and two children, Jonathan Jr. and Eleanor.
Ridgeley was a tinkerer, had been ever since he was a small boy. After dropping out of school to support his dying mother (he was an only child, and his father had abandoned them when Jon was still an infant), he painstakingly scraped together enough funds for a correspondence course. During that time, he met Elaine, and they married. She gave birth to a son. . .and a daughter one year later.
Although he was struggling to feed three mouths all of a sudden, Ridgeley managed to continue pestering the faculty of the local university to get him into night classes, even as he worked days there as a mechanic, fixing elevators, transports and the like. Two years of pestering paid off, and he enrolled in molecular physics and micro-mechanics courses.
During his junior year, when he was 31, Ridgeley patented the compression method: decreasing the space between subatomic particles via a combination of sonic and electronic frequencies, allowing for re-expansion after a similar reversal process.
Two years of long nights in the cramped basement of the university, painstakingly pouring over books, notes, and calculations scribbled on odd bits of paper had finally paid off. The compression, often referred to offhand as the Ridgeley Factor, is commonly used in commercial bio spheres and to transport goods via the newly expanding Unus Mundus Network.
Needless to say, Ridgeley became very wealthy in a very short amount of time. He remained the same decent, down-to-earth man he had always been, but his wife Elaine became intoxicated by the sudden prosperity, her arrogance and greed infecting her two children like some vile disease as her husband remained powerless to stop it.
Eleanor grew up a debutante and became the obligatory social butterfly. She frequented parties. . .as well as the bedrooms of their hosts. However, she settled into obscurity as an old maid after a scandalous affair with a member of the interplanetary trading council who just happened to be married. The chains of the past began to tighten, weaving a glimpse of the image we see today. . .
Jonathan Ridgeley. Jr., much to his father's chagrin, never truly worked a day in his life, even after attending the prestigious Bormeo University upon both his father's merit and money. He married Francesca Moldova, a fellow socialite who also hailed from a wealthy Miltian family. As the couple lived off of their families' fortunes, Francesca bore Jonathan three children: Jonathan Ridgeley the third, Anna Marie Ridgeley, and the youngest, Allen Lawrence Ridgeley.
Little Jon was the spitting image of his father, from his dark good looks, piercing blue eyes, and charming smile to his ruthless nature, arrogance, and egoism. Anna was a smaller version of her mother, with voluminous chestnut curls and big brown eyes. . .not to mention a vain streak ten miles long!
Allen was…well, Allen never looked much like anyone except for his paternal grandfather. They shared the same soft brown hair and striking blue eyes, the same warm smile, and the same inquisitive nature. The two of them were very close and often spent long, lazy summer afternoons fishing off of the pier on the edge of the Ridgeley estate.
However, Allen's immediate family never quite took the same shine to him. Picture, if you will, a six-year-old boy quietly drawing pictures in the sand as his thirteen-year-old sister lies in the sun. A shadow appears over the little boy, and we look to see his fifteen-year-old brother looming over him. A malicious smile spreads across his face as the little boy innocently looks up.
With one swift kick, the dark-haired young man sends a spray of sand into his sister's face. As she jumps up crying, screaming, and spitting sand from her mouth, chaos ensues.
"Allen!" His brother cries, hiding a smirk. "What the heck did you do that for?"
As the sister continues sobbing over her ruined makeup, two furious parents come stalking by. The husband pulls the little boy, who is now wide-eyed in fear, roughly to his feet. His mother grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him so hard he can hear his neck make popping sounds as his head snaps limply back and forth.
She's screaming, his father's screaming, everyone's screaming, but little Allen can't hear them. His head feels funny and he only hears a sloshing sound like the waves from the nearby water.
Frustrated with his lack of response, Allen's mother slaps him for the first time, and it won't be the last time, either. Her wall of anger breaks down for a short while as she is momentarily horrified at herself for striking her child. The force of it has sent him down on the sand, where he is no longer sobbing but makes strange whimpers as his eyes still water freely.
"I'm sorry, Mommy," he whispers. "Please, Mommy, I'm sorry. Please don't…" He closes off and whimpers again.
Francesca's weak maternal instincts are once again masked by her steely tone and cold attitude toward her youngest. She turns to her husband with an irritated look on her face. "Let's just go home. I doubt the children will have fun now anyway." She puts an arm around her sniffling daughter and walks her toward the house.
Jonathan feels his temper rise but holds back as he turns to his eldest, his pride and joy, his namesake. "Take him to his room. Lock him in for tonight. I'll decide his punishment tomorrow." With this, he storms after his wife and daughter.
Little Jon looks at Allen and grins a wicked grin. "C'mon, you little twerp. Get up. Looks like you spoiled another family outing, stupid crybaby." He drags Allen to his feet and pushes him toward the house.
Allen will have hearing problems for several years until he undergoes minor surgery at his grandfather's bidding. He will never fully regain the ability to hear. Just another link in a chain of events started long before his birth.
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Let us move ahead three years. It was a peaceful June day, and we find a grandfather and grandson fishing barefoot together off of an old wooden pier.
"Allen, did I ever tell you why fishing is all you'll ever really need in life?" The older man's eye's twinkled at the boy.
He'd heard it almost every summer for three years. Allen smiled and looked up. "Nah, Grampa. I haven't heard that yet. Why don't'cha tell me?" He smiled into the water. This was the only time he was happy…that was HIS answer. Not with those people who called themselves his family and then either beat him or ignored him completely. Not with those snobby boys at the prep school who always put him down. It was right here, right now, by his granddad's side. This was the only life he needed. Or wanted, for that matter.
"Every man's gotta cast his line in one place or another, feedin' out more bits of himself as he hopes for that one Big Catch. Out in the world, the sharks can take your bait and take you, too, whether or not you think you're safe in your boat or on the beach. But here," he gestured to the great expanse of tumbling blue-green before them, "here is the only true sanctuary from the great dark depths of the hearts of men. Here you can forget your troubles, cast that line, and go with it regardless of whether or not you ever get that catch. Out there, it's all about the prize you take home at the end of the day, but this place is all about the heart and soul you put into it. No matter if your bucket's empty at the end of the day, you'll always come back a stronger and better man than you were before."
They were both silent for a long time. Finally, as the sun was setting in a crimson bath on the horizon, Allen looked to his granddad. "Grampa…w-when you die, I'm gonna be really alone."
Jonathan Ridgeley looked at his beloved grandchild, the only one of his descendants that seemed to be turning into a decent human being. He embraced him and said, "You know what, kiddo? If you want, I'll make a promise to you right now. As long as I have breath left in this old body of mine, you will always have someone to turn to. And after I'm gone, I know you will find someone else to share your wonderful heart with. Until then, I promise that I will watch over you, from wherever it is that I may be. I'll be your guardian angel, and you can count on me when you're lost or scared or just a little lonely. How's that sound to you?" The boy's eyes had misted over with a fine sheen of tears.
"I love you, Grampa."
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The scene shifts to that of a ten-year-old Allen. He had just finished another fencing lesson that was part of a birthday present from his granddad. He was walking down one of the long city streets as the sky turned indigo, and the stars shown forth in the firmament.
He was hurrying to catch one of the last shuttles home when he found himself surrounded by a group of older boys. One of them gave him a shove. "Hey there, little rich boy. Whatcha doin' in this part of town?"
Another one pushed him. "Yeah. Shouldn't you be off on a big boat or in a mansion or sumpin'?"
The tallest one, a boy with streaked green hair and cold-as-steel gray eyes grabbed his collar and made a fist. ""No use beating around the bush, right guys? Let's get down to business." With that, he made to punch Allen in the stomach. . .And he stopped.
The tall boy's eyes winced shut in pain as one of Allen's feet kicked him square in the chest with a meaty thump. He lost his hold of Allen's shirt, and the younger boy didn't waste the opportunity. He ran.
Allen sprinted down the street, listening as four pairs of shoes slapped the pavement in a madhouse rhythm behind him. His heart beat in time to his feet, and he felt the adrenaline pumping through his body. He looked desperately around for a means to escape while some primal part of him screamed to turn and face them! He had stopped the lead kid; he could take them all in a fight. His conditioning for the fencing had built up his muscle strength along with his speed, but the rational part of his mind insisted on running.
And Allen ran right into a dead end.
There were no doors, no windows…not even a wall he could hope to climb. The boys were just behind. Feeling heady from the rush of excitement and a little brave, Allen stood his ground.
The first two boys came at him. Allen flung himself to the side and swung his leg out in hopes of tripping them. One fell, but the other was soon upon him. The other three joined in with a flurry of punches, and so many hits were going back and forth that Allen couldn't really tell which were his own. He felt a sharp pain in his lip as a fist pummeled into it, saw a few bright flashes when somebody socked him in the eye, and saw nothing when they slammed his head back against the concrete wall.
He was falling, falling, and it was dark.
Please God. Oh, someone help me…please.
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Whew! Chapter 2 is over! Wow, did I actually write a cliffhanger? I thought that was illegal in 30 states. . .
Allen:*still tied up* MMRRPPH!!!
Me: Huh? Wait I can't understand you. *takes duck tape off of mouth*
Allen:*gasps* Listen, I never did anything to you. How about you untie me and let me go home?
Me:Why? Who do you think would miss you right now? (sorry, dude. just tryin' to mess with your head…)
Allen: I-I…There's plenty of people! I don't have to defend myself to you!
Me: Would you be more comfortable if I brought your little girlfriend here? ^_~
Allen: What? Wait, no, don't…!!
*chibi shion pops in*
Shion: Huh? I don't think this is where I left my glasses. . .
Allen: Chief!!!
Shion:Huh? Oh, sorry Allen. Didn't know you got pulled into the same warped, twisted dimension! ^_^
Me: Wha?! Take that back!! *lunges for Shion, misses, gets a mouthful of shag carpet*
Ptooey!
Shion: *_*…~_~…^_^ Anyways…Wow, Allen, I never knew you were into that kinky bondage stuff! Hmm, would you like me to pull that tape a little. . .tighter? *moves onto his lap*
Allen: *nosebleeds, passes out all swirly-eyed and stuff* @_@ unnnhh…
Me: *shakes finger* Uh-uh, Missy! I'm runnin' a clean show here! Now you can either help or leave!
Shion: *rolls eyes* Whatever…Thanks to all of you reading this, and kindly drop a review into the little box!
See you guys next chapter!!