AN: O.O …Erm, whoops? Seriously, I'm sorry the wait was so long, but, believe it or not, I'm a full-time college student with a part-time job. A girl's got her priorities! And, unfortunately, mine clashed rather directly with my mom's, and hers won. So finals came first. ^^;; Gomen ne? Anyway, here ya go! Enjoy!
I rewrote one piece of this. Can you pick it out?
Disclaimer: Er…I'm totally broke?
Part five: Shifting gears
My Secret Past
Duke frowned at the teenager as he shoved his way past in the hall. "Watch where you're going, kid!" he called after him.
"I wouldn't have to if you'd just move."
"Hey!" The ex-thief darted after Nosedive to grab his arm. "What's your problem?"
"My problem," he returned, eyes narrowed at Duke, newly short hair flashing gold in the soft light, "is people like you who try to tell me what to do. I'm smart, even if none of you seem to realize it, and I've been taking care of myself for a while. I don't need you leaning over my shoulder all the time!"
"Geez, kid, I was just worried!"
"Well, don't bother. I don't need anyone to worry about me. And I'm not a kid!"
Duke shrugged, growing cross with Nosedive's hostile attitude. "Fine."
Nosedive glared once more for good measure before storming away.
"What's with his attitude?" Mallory asked, coming from her room to join Duke in the hall.
He looked at her miserably. "Hell if I know, sweetheart."
"Hey! Hey, Nosedive! Wait a sec!"
The teen turned, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes, face cold. "What?" he demanded, impatient.
Tanya blinked, taken slightly aback. "I, uh…just wanted to know why you're so late to practice. It's almost eight and…and you're not even ready," she realized, taking in his baggy jeans, loose shirt and backpack.
"My, aren't you perceptive," he sneered, smirking.
Her face was naturally expressive; he saw instantly that he'd stung her. "S-sorry, Nosedive…aren't you practicing today?"
"Why should I?" he sighed. "It won't do me any good now."
"Why not?" she asked, surprised. "Don't you think practice makes perfect?"
"Sure, but that still doesn't do me any good."
"B-but…for the team's sake…"
"What team?" he scoffed. "I quit, remember?" Then he was gone, the door of the Pond slamming behind him.
"It's ok," Canard reassured her, skating over. "It's just…it's probably just a faze he's going through."
Tanya tried to smile but failed. Nosedive had been like a little brother to her; why was he so angry?
Every time Wildwing entered a room Nosedive was in, the teen left. No matter what he had been doing, he dropped it and evacuated. Only once had the older brother managed to get close. Nosedive was sitting at the table, eating a salad and reading a comic, generally not paying attention.
Wildwing crept up behind him silently, desperate to be near him, even if it was only for a little while.
Nosedive had sensed his approach but been unable to move.
Neither of them had been prepared for the total system shock being separated like this would cause. Since the day the younger duck had been born it was just the two of them, even with parents, even when they were apart.
Except once.
That was why Nosedive didn't move as Wildwing reached forward and hesitantly ran a few fingers lightly through his little brother's short hair.
"I would have cut it for you," he murmured, more to himself than to Nosedive. "I always did before…I would have cut it any way you wanted." For a few more moments he toyed with the hair, turning it over between his fingers, then he dropped it as though he'd been burned and quickly left.
Nosedive practically ran to his bedroom, fighting the howling agony burning in his chest, never knowing his brother was doing the same thing in his own quarters.
Justin watched Nosedive self-destruct. He knew the signs, recognized them from a time in his life when he'd done the same things. Maybe not for the same reasons, but the exact same things. The alien teen was pushing his brother and makeshift family away so violently it was actually like screaming for help. Of course, only those who had done the same could hear the call.
He had to confront Nosedive's brother, that much was certain, but what could he say? "Hi, I'm Justin, one of Nosedive's new friends. Your brother's destroying himself for reasons that are totally beyond me. Just thought you'd want to know."
Not the best way to start a conversation.
"What's the absolute definition of rebellion?" Nosedive was asking Tiger contemplatively.
The two were sitting cross-legged on the top of a picnic table, playing five card stud as Justin stair-bashed behind them, going up and down the massive set as many ways as he could think of.
Tiger considered both her hand and her response. "Well, let's see. Cutting your hair was a big step, if it's true you've had it that way for years. Mmm…four cards."
"Let's see the ace." She flashed it at him: ace of spades. "It's true," he assured as he dealt her new cards. "Dealer takes one."
"Damn. You've got a good hand, don't you?"
He grinned. "Okay, so let's look at rebellion as a whole. What are general definitions of rebellion?"
"Hmm. Doing stuff other people see as unusually dangerous."
"Like hardcore skating. What've you got?"
"Exactly. Two pair, Jacks high."
"Ha, full house."
"Loser, that's the fifth hand you've won."
"In a row," he reminded her. "Wanna play something else?"
"Like what?"
"Jacks or better, trips to win?"
She laughed, throwing her cards at him. "I don't even know what that means!"
"Fine. How about War?"
"Nah, let's play Go Fish."
"With two people?"
"Sure. Besides, Justin'll come over and play in a bit, he just has to realize he's bored."
Catching her comment, Justin snorted. Bored of skating? Impossible.
"I'm beginning to think you're avoiding my question," Nosedive confessed, shuffling the cards.
Tiger blinked. "What question?"
The pale Puckworldian rolled his eyes, dealing her seven cards. "What's the absolute perfect way to show your rebellion?"
"Oh, that." She shrugged, organizing her hand. "It depends on the person trying to be rebellious and who against." She laid down a match, then frowned at Nosedive's three. "You're cheating."
"I am not. Okay, so what would you do to rebel against an older brother and his group of friends?"
"Still depends. What kind of people are they and why are you rebelling? I'm telling you, it's impossible to get that many pairs on the first try! Got any twos?"
"Go fish. They're all very…overprotective. You know, 'Oh poor little Nosedive, young and innocent, can't take care of himself,' the whole nine yards. Got any aces?"
"You bastard, you are cheating!" she accused, handing her newly drawn card over. "With a group like that, you've got to do something very wild, something to show them that, while you may be someone who has to be watched out for, you no longer need to be watched over. It has to be a huge thing, though. Any fours?"
"Finally, you got one." He handed the card to her. "So what's something huge I could do?"
Tiger shrugged. "Got me."
"I sure do," he agreed, laying down two more pairs.
"That's not legal and I'm not playing with you anymore!" She tossed her cards into his lap. "There's no way you just happened to get that card."
"You're right." He grinned, slipping some cards from his sleeve.
"Rat!" she accused, tackling him.
Nosedive laughed, easily fending her off and clamoring from the table. "Actually, I'm a duck. You might want to look into getting your eyes checked."
Tiger, very mature at all costs, stuck her tongue out at him.
At that moment, Justin skated over. "Hey, Dive, you gonna hang around and meet my coach? I'm sure he'd kill to have you on his side."
"No thanks," Nosedive declined, making a face. "I just got off a team, I don't want to compete again so soon."
"You gonna hang around anyway?"
The alien teen sighed, shrugging. "Nah, I've gotta walk back. It'll take a while, and I'm not interested in doing it at night, especially since I've turned in my puck launcher."
"Hey, that's it!" Tiger exclaimed, smacking him on the back. "Two birds with one stone! Pardon the expression," she added, remembering her audience.
Nosedive waved the formality off. "What are you talking about?"
"I just realized the solution to both your problems!"
"What problems?"
"A way to show off your new bad ass attitude and get around without walking all at the same time! You've got loads of money, right?"
He shrugged. "I've been a top player in the NHL for two years. Yeah, I'd say I have a bit of money."
"Well, then, there you go!" She slapped his back again. "Easy as pie!"
"I like pie," Justin offered.
Nosedive ignored him. "Tiger, speak English. What are you talking about?"
"Ok, how's this: Have you ever heard of a café racer?"
And Nosedive smiled.
"I can't stand it any longer," Canard announced, standing and narrowing his eyes at his best friend. "You've been moping around for the past week and a half. I know Nosedive's new attitude is getting to you, but you've got to decide that enough is enough all ready! He's just going through a phase or something! He'll get over it, I promise. Meanwhile, you've got to keep your spirits up. You're depressing to be around!"
Wildwing sighed, slumping further into his seat, staring balefully at the tabletop. "You're probably right," he admitted, rubbing his face harshly. "But I can't help it. He hates me; I know he does. It's just so…it's like everything I've ever fought for and lived for suddenly loathes my very presence. He feels betrayed, but why? What'd I do? Why won't he just tell me and get it over with? I'd rather be screamed at than given the cold shoulder. I'd rather have him tell me flat-out that he hates my guts than wander around like this, avoiding him and not knowing what's going on."
"Get up!" Canard ordered.
The other duck obeyed without realizing it, confused. "Why?" he questioned as an after thought.
"I'm taking you out of the Pond."
"What? Why?"
"Because it's not doing anything but adding to your dumb I-have-failed-the-world attitude. So we're going out!"
Wildwing trailed behind Canard as he made his way out of the kitchen. "Where're we going?"
"Anywhere we end up. Tanya," he added as they passed her on their way to their ultimate destination, "I'm getting Wildwing out of the Pond."
"About time someone did," she muttered, making the white duck blink at her. She shrugged almost defensively. "We all think you're obsessing over Nosedive. You really do need to get out, take your mind off things. You'll see." She smiled reassuringly. "Everything will be fine."
He wasn't convinced.
"We're taking the Duckcycles," Canard continued, pulling the keys off the wall and tossing one to the surprised Wildwing. "Tell everyone else not to worry, we'll be back eventually. We've got our coms, so call us if there's a problem."
"Have fun," Tanya called.
"Here's hoping," the leader agreed, pushing Wildwing into the next room.
Wildwing sighed, sitting back in his seat, swirling his smoothe around its cup. "All right," he admitted to the duck sitting across from him, "so this was a good idea. I'd forgotten how much fun it was to race on Duckcycles."
"There, see?" Canard inclined his head slightly, raising his glass in a quasi-toast. "I told you. You've spent so much time being that ungrateful squirt's nurse-maid, you've forgotten how to live your own life."
The white duck chose not to remind his friend that Nosedive was his life. Or, at least, he had been.
"Now that he's decided to go it alone, I think you should show him it's not the end of your world."
Of course it was the end. His world had walked away and basically told him to bite it.
"You should have more fun and prove to him you're all right on your own."
"…Yeah. Maybe you're right."
Which had been Nosedive's plan in the first place; not that anyone knew it.
"Come on." Canard stood and stretched. "Let's ride a bit more before nightfall."
"Ok," Wildwing agreed, standing as well. They left the mall leisurely, purposefully taking the time to notice anything they'd never taken any note of before. Finally they reached their Duckcycles, parked by the street.
Across the street, a streamlined motorcycle parked and went silent as its rider sat up and pushed his short blond hair out of his eyes, keeping it back with a pair of dark sunglasses. Other than black jeans and a leather jacket over a white Fox Gear T-shirt, the glasses were all the protection the teenaged motorcyclist wore.
After giving a shocked little jump, Wildwing stared towards the teen, face amazed and concerned. "Nosedive!" he called, getting the teen's attention.
Nosedive, noticing his brother for the first time, groaned and flipped his sunglasses back down, leaning forward to restart the motorcycle.
"Wait," Wildwing demanded, putting his hand over the key.
"What do you want?" the teen responded angrily, sitting up.
"Where'd you get this…this…"
"Suzuki GXR?" he offered, crossing his arms. "I bought it."
"Why?"
"Mobility."
"B-but…you could have used a Duckcycle."
Nosedive arched an eyebrow at his brother. "If I'm not mistaken, both of the 'Cycles are in use at the moment. Plus, they're Mighty Ducks equipment."
"So?"
"So." The younger duck batted the other's hand away and started the motorcycle. He leaned forward, covered the clutch and break, and kicked it into gear. "I quit the Mighty Ducks. You can keep the crap that goes with it." He buzzed away, speeding through a yellow light before flying into a turn and out of sight.
Canard jogged up then. "Just when I'd gotten you to lighten up, too," he complained, defeated.
Wildwing slumped back to his Duckcycle, thoroughly depressed once more. "I have failed my baby brother," he stated miserably, and repeated it almost as a personal motto for the rest of the day.
Nosedive sat on his bed, scowling at his pillow. His room was still immaculate, though he didn't know why he was keeping it so. In the back of his mind he remembered how much Wildwing enjoyed clean spaces, and couldn't bring himself to dirty it.
Trying to drive his brother away was harder than he'd originally planned on both parties concerned. Every time Wing's face crumpled in pain or paled in withheld agony, it tore at the teen's heart. Wildwing had always been there for him, always protected him from everything that had ever threatened him.
Everything but one.
From that one Nosedive intended to save Wildwing, no matter what it took. This time he'd protect his most precious older brother.
No matter what.
The dreams came in rapid succession, slashing at the duck's mind.
He survived.
He was coming.
He came.
Always the same. Different devices, different reasons, different wounds, but the rest was the same. The tiny mad smile, the half-lidded eyes, the cruel, merciless spark that burned whoever it was turned on, even if that someone was small and helpless to begin with.
He had no soul, no heart. He couldn't, not with what he did and laughed at and said in murmurs in the dark. He was a monster.
Why hadn't the other come?
No, no! That was an awful, terrible, deadly desire! He prayed the other would never, never come, never know, never see, never feel.
But, oh, he wanted to die. Die and get it over with.
He came at his charge with a knife and tested its sharpness.
The little one cried and watched the blade as it was drawn out. Its tip was missing, broken off in the bone of his own tiny shoulder.
It hurts! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts-
Someone make it stop!
Wildwing hadn't been able to sleep. That was how, wandering the halls, he'd been able to hear his baby brother's soft, half-muted cries of pain.
For only a moment, he hesitated. If Nosedive were awake, he'd be furious…
Then the teen gave a sharp cry accented by many softer ones.
Hang the consequences!
He slipped quickly and quietly into the younger duck's room and moved toward where he knew the bed was as his eyes adjusted.
Nosedive was tangled in his sheets, curled into a tight ball in the center of his bed, both hands clutching at his right shoulder, calling his pain softly into his pillow as he dreamt.
"Shh," Wildwing soothed, sitting on the side of the bed and drawing the trembling figure gently into his arms. "Shh, it's okay, baby brother. It's okay, it's only a dream. Wake up. I've got you, it's okay."
The loving words pulled Nosedive from his nightmare. His shoulder ached from an old pain, and he lay still in his brother's embrace a long time, frightened and wounded.
Wildwing's fingers trailed tenderly through familiar blond locks as the teen slowly calmed. In a while he'd ask what had been so terrifying, and in a while Nosedive would answer, like always.
Things, he had forgotten, were not like always around the Pond.
Nosedive pushed against his brother's chest, sitting up. He looked unusually small in his pajamas, a combination of oversized night pants and his brother's old jersey. Head bowed, one hand gripping Wildwing's nightshirt, the other resting limply on his bed, he said something so softly the white duck didn't catch it.
"Sorry, Dive, what'd you say?"
The teen took a deep breath, then released the clump of his brother's shirt he'd been clutching, whispering, "Get out" in a horse, strained voice.
Something in Wildwing froze. "What?" he asked disbelievingly.
"I said…" Nosedive stood, his eyes still shadowed by his bangs, "get out."
"B-but Dive…"
"No! I didn't ask you to come in here. This is my room, whether I'm on your stupid team or not! I don't need you to…take care of me." The force and conviction of his statement died at the end, but Wildwing was too hurt to notice.
"Do you mean that?" he almost begged, standing as well. "Do you really want me to go? Because I will if you ask me to, but I…I won't come back. I'm tired of being in the middle of your new bad attitude. I'm tired of waiting for you to wake up and be okay." Sleep deprivation and soul-wrenching agony were turning all of Wildwing's confused hurt into the deep primal need to inflict pain on the one who was the cause of so much of the same. "If you tell me to leave and you really mean it…I'm not coming back again. You've gotta pick right now. Do you really want me to leave?"
No. He didn't. What he really wanted to do was throw himself into his brother's arms and tell him everything that was going on, but his decision had escalated past that point all ready.
This time he would… No matter what the cost, he would always…
"Get out, Wildwing."
The door hissed closed.
Nosedive sat at the end of his bed, knees pulled up to his chest, hands fisted in his hair for the rest of the night, trying to hide the fragments of his shattered life and hope well enough that they wouldn't be detected.
Wildwing sat by Drake One, watching his younger brother on a monitor. If this was the only way to be able to keep vigil, so be it.
Though their eyes remained dry, in their hearts they cried as one.
Everyone noticed the difference in the brothers the next morning.
Nosedive was quiet, not making eye contact with anyone, moving about the Pond like a ghost until morning practice was over, at which point he disappeared all together.
Though Wildwing was quiet, too, there was an anger bubbling just under his calm exterior. Life wasn't fair. Justice didn't exist. His little brother had abandoned him after all they'd survived together. And it was all because of those damned…skaters. It had all started with them. It was all their fault.
He would never forgive them.
Mallory stumbled upon Nosedive hours after morning practice. He was using the rink, skating around dismally, nudging a puck without any enthusiasm. She was silent, deciding to watch and see what unfolded.
After a while he stopped skating entirely and just stared at the puck. Suddenly he gave a sharp yell and hit the puck with everything he had, slamming it into and through the net. He threw his stick down. Ripping off his gloves, he hurled them at the wall, which he then kicked roughly.
"I hate this!" he shouted in fury, kicking it again. "I hate this! Why can he screw my life up like this? Over and over and over! I hate this! Who gave him the power? Why? What did I do to deserve this? I wish they'd killed him when they had the chance! I wish they'd killed me! Damnit! I hate him!"
Nosedive slammed through the barrier off the ice and ran from the Pond.
Mallory stood after he'd gone, shocked.
He hadn't been talking about his brother. That much was obvious. Whoever 'he' was, he was the one responsible for everything that had been happening. That, also, was obvious. But who was he? The million-dollar question.
She couldn't go to Wildwing or Canard without solid information. It would just cause more problems. But there was someone she could plot with on an equally devious level.
Now, where was Duke?
Justin watched Nosedive skate through narrowed eyes. The alien teen was coming to the climax of his troubles. His usually flawless run was filled with mistakes born of anger, frustration and confusion.
Someone had to get through to him right now before he made a huge mistake.
Nosedive landed on the top of the quarter-pipe and growled. "This place sucks!" he complained. "Everything's all wrong and no one's even here. Why are we having a session at this dump?" he demanded, turning on Justin, who scowled right back at him.
"Hey, don't diss it! Pro skaters workout here. You just can't see it cause you're in such a bad mood!"
"I am not in a bad mood."
"You are so, dude, look at yourself! You're mad about everything, and I know why!"
Nosedive glared at him. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, I do!"
"Yeah? Then go ahead, tell me why I'm angry."
"You had an argument with your brother last night that hurt both of you and you feel guilty, but you can't do anything about it because whatever happened in your past has come back to take a chunk out of your ass."
"Idiot," the Puckworldian scoffed, uncomfortable suddenly. "You don't know anything."
"If I don't know anything, then how come I'm dead on target?"
"Man, leave me alone, Justin," Nosedive demanded, turning to drop back into the quarter-pipe. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Well I do," the human pressed, grabbing Nosedive's arm.
"Let go," he hissed.
"No. You have to talk about it or it's going to destroy you."
"I don't have to do anything!" He twisted out of Justin's hold.
Justin responded by turning to grab both his shoulders. "I know it's hard, Nosedive, I know, okay? But you've got to or he'll destroy you! If you keep it bottled up and it eats you up from the inside out, he'll have won!" He gave the duck a hard shake. "Is that what you want?"
"No! I'm also not gonna talk about it, especially not with you!" Nosedive threw the human's hands off. "I couldn't tell my brother; you think I can tell you?"
"You couldn't tell your brother for the exact same reason you have to tell me."
"I don't want to hear this," the alien teen said flatly, turning to skate down the quarter-pipe. "I'm not going to hang around here and get lectured."
"Oh, get off your high horse!" Justin punched Nosedive's bicep hard enough to make the other teen yelp. "Shut up and listen, you moron! Whatever happened to you was bad, that's obvious, and you're embarrassed of it, but that's okay. I'm embarrassed about what happened to me, too, but I told someone. That was my option B. Telling a social worker was my option B. Option A was letting myself get killed. You're facing option A right now, and guess what? I'm not gonna let it happened! I did not survive to watch someone else die!"
"It's not your decision!" Nosedive yelled, hands balled into fists. "It's mine!
"Bullshit! It's only yours if I let it be, and I'm not going to allow that!"
"It's not your choice!"
Justin, fed up with negotiation, tackled Nosedive. The two toppled off the quarter-pipe and tumbled down it, fighting each other.
Eventually they slid to a stop.
"My dad is a drunk!" Justin shouted directly into Nosedive's ear, stunning him. "My dad, who was supposed to love and take care of me, was a stone drunk. Alcoholic is just the nice name for it. He'd come home two, three, four times a week, so smashed he couldn't see straight. Some people can get plastered and be nice about the whole thing, really kinda funny, but not my dad. He was mean and he was mad about everything, especially me, because I was his only son and not smart enough to be out when he came back. Besides, my mother needed someone to take care of her, right? So I got his attention when he was going to her, and I took the blows. The bastard hit hard, you know. I broke a lot of bones running into doors and tripping down stairs before someone finally caught on. Not even I am dumb enough to bust my arm falling out of bed.
"A teacher approached me first, and I denied it, and my father thrashed me when I got home. Every day that teacher told me I had a choice, I didn't have to let him hurt me, I could tell someone and they'd protect me and my mother and sister. They'd help us. It took me three years with that woman to get the message, but I did get it in the end. Loud and clear. He went after my sister, you see, and not to beat her up. That was just the last straw. I went for option B. My option A was suicide, but that was a cowardly thing to do, and I'm not a coward.
"So you see, Nosedive? Awful things happen to good people, innocent people, like we used to be. They just happen. The trick is to be strong enough to withstand them, even when they come back at us, no matter what, to protect the people we care about and get my sister's happily ever after. But to do that you have to tell somebody! You have to be strong enough to share whatever it is he did to you, because otherwise he won and I hate it when the bad guys win."
They sat a long time after that, an eternity, cross-legged on the bottom of the quarter-pipe, backs facing each other. Justin didn't say another word. He'd done all he could. The rest was up to Nosedive.
"My parents died when I was five."
It began so suddenly Justin was surprised. He turned around to face his friend but was silent, waiting. There was much more coming.
Nosedive spoke quietly of the freak accident he knew nothing about that had taken the lives of his parents, that would have taken his life if his older brother hadn't protected him. But the protection had cost dearly. Wildwing was hospitalized in a coma, leaving the child alone at age five. He spoke of having no grandparents or aunt or uncles or cousins or anyone to take him in. Naturally, he said, they'd placed him in a foster home. The guy they gave him to, the adult the government selected to care for the five-year-old, seemed nice enough, had a big house with lots of land, a perfect record. Said he loved kids, not, Nosedive realized as he grew, a good thing.
He spoke his foster-father's name through a suddenly constricted throat, and many things slid sharply into focus: Dryden. Five-year-old Nosedive's foster-father Dryden. Now that the name was between them, the words began to tumble out of Nosedive's carefully constructed dam. He spoke now of the hell living with Dryden had been, though it had seemed all right at first. Dryden got him nice clothes and toys and liked to watch him play, which now could be recognized as odd and disturbing. Nosedive spoke of the tiny hope he treasured before he was old enough to recognize its folly, the fond dream that maybe, if he were good enough, Wildwing would get to live with him once he got better. And he was, too. He spoke of the weeks that he was better than gold, and he spoke of the day, the morning, the moment Dryden snapped. Though he didn't know what it was then, he'd figured it out later. Dryden had told him, sitting in a dark corner, that it was because Nosedive reminded him of his brother, not because he was a perfect kid but because he was good, just good enough to make everyone love him on sight.
Nosedive spoke of Dryden's insanity. How, when Dryden was little, his older brother that Nosedive reminded him of got all the attention. And so, when he was twelve, he killed him. Murdered his brother that he hated, the other brother, his parents, little sister…he poisoned them and cut out their hearts. He kept those hearts as trophies. Nosedive told Justin that he only knew all of that because Dryden had told him as a bedtime story, in a terrifyingly nonchalant voice. He told Nosedive a lot of things before he slept, sitting in the dark where he couldn't be seen. Nosedive still felt him there, sometimes, right before he dozed off. Seventeen-years-old, he said, and he had to sleep with the bathroom light on when he got too scared.
That, Nosedive said, was the beginning. On top of the bedtime stories, Dryden would tell him about Wildwing and their parents, that they'd gotten in the accident because they hated him and would rather die than be with him. Dryden told him he should feel lucky that he'd taken the boy in because no one else would. He called Nosedive his property, like he was some kind of thing, and he said it so much that the child began to believe him.
This, too, Nosedive said, was the beginning. Later, when he began to feel more comfortable with their roles, Dryden took pleasure in hurting his toy physically. He'd tie his wrists and ankles and beak and cut him with knives to see how sharp they were. Once a tip broke off in his shoulder. It was still there, probably, the teen mused. Dryden used to watch Nosedive bleed and smile this awful smile that he could still see if he closed his eyes… Dryden played with poisons, too. He'd mix things together and make Nosedive take them, just to see what happened. He'd stick him in broom closets with spiders and awful things that crawled.
It went on like that, Nosedive said, for a year. Puckworld was so peaceful no one had a clue. He was the only serial killer, Nosedive said. The only one in history. There was no branch of the police to handle him because he was one of a kind. By the time the social worker came to check the tiny citizen, he was a mess. Actually, Nosedive realized with a dark chuckle, that social worker had saved his life. She came in just as Dryden was about to poison him like he'd poisoned his family. Then he was going to get another trophy as a memento of his property. When she walked in the room and saw the child lying there, bloody and broken and bound, she froze. She didn't even know what to do. Then, of course, Dryden ran.
But she'd seen him, and Nosedive knew him, and Puckworldian police were good at their jobs once they figured out what it was they were doing. Dryden was caught within the week and brought to trial, for the abuse of a hatchling, attempted murder of a hatchling, and the first-degree murder of his family and something like thirty-seven others, to name a few. Nosedive was the lead witness. The trial was top-secret, because the government was embarrassed. They'd let horrendous things happen to the most innocent of citizens right under their beaks and they'd never had a clue. Dryden ended up getting something like one thousand life sentences in a maximum security, isolated prison, which meant basically that he'd die on and haunt a tiny rock way out where no one could hear his stories.
He was gone, Nosedive said, but he'd left his mark. Nosedive was a mess. Wildwing had been living with the Flashblades for a few months and was trying to find his brother so they could live together again, but the child couldn't. He was just all screwed up, having screaming nightmares while he was awake, flinching every time anyone came near him, thinking even water was poisoned. Malnourished but not hungry, dehydrated but too terrified of liquids to drink. He went into literal fits if they came anywhere near him with an IV. It took them a year to put him back together well enough that he could be sent on to Wing. Even then they had to build a past for him to tell everyone, because Dryden didn't technically exist anymore, and the government was still shamed. They found a way to excuse his nightmares, prescribed a sedative and called it medicine for an infection, worked things so he had a special doctor he went to whenever he was sick and twice annually for checkups even though no one knew it was all planned. He'd thought everything was finally going to be all right. It took years, but with Wildwing's help he began to relax, began to have good dreams, normal dreams.
Then the Saurians invaded. And that was another beginning. He recounted how the Saurians had just swept in and threw everyone they could in camps or mines or factories, gathering whoever they could close to them, attracting like minds. They called it Dryden's Hell, the mine they gave him after they'd freed him, and no one survived it. No one. As soon as Dryden was out, he hunted Nosedive down, had him sought out and switched to Hell so the boy could be his property again and it all started all over again, except this time Nosedive was older and could hurt worse before he started to die. He became Dryden's whipping boy, taking licks for those who couldn't handle it. He still bore the scars on his back. Dryden blamed Nosedive for his imprisonment, his property that had betrayed him, and he hated the boy, wanted to see him slowly bleed to death, day by agonizing day. Dryden's Hell was the first camp the Resistance took out. They knew its reputation, knew what was happening there, knew what that meant. Somehow they won, and Dryden's sentence was lengthened before he was tossed back onto his rock.
Again the government had to slowly reconstruct Nosedive from the tattered remains. Then he needed another new past, because once again what was left of the government was shamed. Those of who survived were fed back into the camps to keep the Saurians from wondering about the Hell's sudden collapse. They were told never to speak of their time in that camp again, no matter what. Not that they ever would. He couldn't talk about what happened there if he wanted to; none of them could. It would always be too fresh.
Whether by luck or God or some trick of the Resistance, Nosedive ended up in Wing's camp. He helped put the pieces of his shattered brother the Resistance hadn't known about back into place. Then Canard came and got them and Nosedive had thought everything would be fine.
"But it's not," Nosedive whispered hoarsely. "The war continues here on your planet and the Saurians have brought Dryden as backup. He'll probably kill them. He's looking for me. He still hates me and he's kept the vial of poison that was supposed to kill me all those years ago. I think he's driven me mad again, because otherwise I wouldn't be telling you this. That's why I've been self-destructing, as you put it. That's why I'm pushing Wildwing away. When the inevitable happens and Dryden catches me, I want him to think of my death as a relief rather than a torment. I want him to survive, even if I don't.
"And that's about the long and short of it."
A thick, all consuming silence.
"Oh my God," Justin breathed, feeling sick. "Nosedive, I…I never knew…"
"I know. I'm a good actor, and I learned long ago how to hide my fear very, very well." The duck stood, still facing away from his friend. "Well, is that all you wanted to hear? Now that I've told you all about my secret past, is there anything else you need to know before I go?"
"Where are you going?"
No response. Nosedive began to walk away.
Suddenly afraid for him, Justin leapt up and caught his wrist. "Nosedive, where are you going?"
"To my option A," he replied coolly, stepping away from the human.
"You can't be serious!" Justin called after him. "Don't throw your life away! Go ask your brother for help!"
"I've been able to keep Dryden and Wildwing apart my entire life. You think I'm going to stop now? Besides, I just realized." He tossed his head defiantly, sending the golden locks flicking out of his eyes. "I'm tired of running from him." Nosedive stopped by his motorcycle and smiled sadly back at the stunned teen. "Goodbye, Justin. You really were a good friend. This is just something I've got to do."
"What is?" Justin yelled after him, but Nosedive was already gone.
Canard looked up when someone entered the Pond. "We're in the middle of afternoon practice," he called to the small human. "Come back in an hour."
"No," was the flat response. "Which one of you is Wildwing? I saw you a few weeks ago, but…I forgot already."
The goalie blinked at this strange figure. Then the pieces clicked into place and he skated forward, hissing, "You."
Justin blinked, suddenly unsure. "Um, yeah. Me."
"What did you do to my little brother?"
"Dude, what?" Why was this duck so angry? "I didn't do anything to Nosedive!"
"Then why is he acting so strange lately?"
"That's what I came to talk about, actually, but I'm not sure we have much time—"
"Are you a drug dealer?" a tan feathered duck demanded, joining Wildwing.
"No!" Justin frowned. "I've never done drugs before in my life!"
"Sure," the new duck sneered.
"What gives you the right to accuse me? You don't even know me!"
"We don't need to," Wildwing snapped. "And we don't need you around here. Go jump off whatever it is you jump off and get out of here right now."
Justin was shaking with suppressed fury, glaring at the ducks. "You…you…"
"Get out," Wildwing ordered again, and began to skate away. Canard followed him.
The human teen turned. He was going to leave, had every intention of stomping out the door and letting the damned Adults handle their own shit.
Then he thought of Nosedive, facing the worst fear and demon from his past alone, and he groaned to himself. Turning, he went back over to the rink and leaned over its low wall.
"My father's a drunk who used to beat me!"
Practice slammed to a halt. Every set of eyes turned to lock on the very strange human teen.
"That's my awful past," Justin continued mercilessly, gaze locked on Wildwing's. "That's the thing I'm not proud of but had no control over that I had to tell Nosedive to get him to tell me about the thing he's not proud of but had no control over. He told me everything, about why he's been acting the way he has, about all his reasoning, about why he's pushing you away. All of you." He included the rest of the Mighty Ducks in a sweep of his eyes.
"You're lying," Wildwing said flatly, and turned to skate away.
"He told me about the two years you were separated!"
Wildwing froze and slowly turned to stare, horrified, at the Earthling. "Nosedive won't tell anyone about that," he whispered brokenly. "No one."
"Well he told me."
"Why?"
"Because I beat him up and threw him down a quarter-pipe and made him."
"You what?"
Justin shrugged. "It's what any good friend would do."
Wildwing shook his head, still in denial.
"He told me about his first foster father," the teen pressed, hope growing as his friend's brother skated ever closer. "He told me why he wasn't allowed to tell anyone else. He told me why he's always had nightmares and been afraid of the dark, ever since he was five. It's not because of the accident that killed your parents and hurt you. He doesn't even remember what the accident was. His foster father made him afraid of the dark by sitting unseen in a corner of his room and telling him stories about how he'd killed his family."
Everyone froze again.
"Don't you get it? Why he's so afraid he can't even tell you, why he's running from things that used to comfort him, why he's having nightmares that you can't fix. Haven't you figured it out yet?
"Dryden was Nosedive's first foster father."
Wildwing felt his heart stop and his world come crashing down around him.
As everyone else stood in a shocked silence, Canard skated forward and took a deep breath. "Tell us more. Tell us everything."
"There isn't much time."
"Then tell us quickly."
Justin did.
AN: Welp. I fully expect to be busted for this ending. Good news: Only one part left! Yay! *crickets* Erm, yeah . I go to bed now. Night!