The Gift

Episode 10: Story of My Life

By Sulia Serafine

This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. 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.

Warning: This episode is rated PG-13, just for a few curse words. This is Vinny, guys. Come on.

~~

Black. I wanted to dye my hair black.

Despite how handsome it might make me look (black hair, blue eyes… come on, you know I'd be hot) I knew that it would also make it difficult to live with for many reasons. For example, if I get lazy about re-dying, someone will point out that my roots are showing. (Scandalous, I assure you.) Or people like Kimmy from the gas station might not recognize me. Why would I destroy such an identifying feature when it could very well lead me to all my answers? It wasn't so great, then, in relation to my life's goal. But it was a tempting option. Soon, you'll see why.

I left Coram's apartment and slowly descended the fire escape. Yvenne and Faleron were talking quietly. They stopped when I came down the fire escape. I knew that they were going to be surprised at my change in plans. It didn't take a psychic to figure that out. To abate their uneasiness, I pretended that nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Me? Discover my parents' identities and meet my namesake? Nah. Of course not.

"Hey, guys," I greeted as I opened the driver side door and sat down. I fished the keys out of my pocket. As my hand turned the ignition, I offered a bright smile. "Why don't we take a side trip to Tusaine? I heard it was nice this time of year."

Yvenne looked at me suspiciously. "That's north of here. We're going south to Port Legann. It's not exactly a side trip if we have to backtrack the whole way there, Vinny."

How did one explain ulterior motives without giving the motives away? Ah, right. Lying.

"I have a friend up in Tusaine that I wanted to see. Just found out that she was sick," I replied, shrugging my shoulders helplessly. It wasn't the most brilliant or creative of lies, but it was common enough not to be refuted. People did get sick. Good friends visit their sick friends? Yes? I've never done it before, considering the fact that I don't have friends, but they did, didn't they?

Luck let me win the coin toss this time. Yvenne nodded grudgingly. "Yeah fine."

Faleron tackled the back of my headrest and pulled on my shirt collar. "Did you talk to another friend here? Is that why you were in there so long? How come you didn't take us to meet him?"

Gah… I silently groaned. Kids! Didn't anyone ever teach him that curiosity killed the kid? Er, cat? Aw, you know what I mean. All these questions were really starting to get on my nerves. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to have them hop a train to Port Legann so I could miss that train and head to Tusaine. It would have been an easy plan to carry out.

But no. We're traveling the scenic route. By lousy car.

"He's not exactly a people person. Don't worry about it." I ruffled his hair and pushed him back so he let my shirt go.

I pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road, heading north. Now came the semi-arduous trip to reach what may be the hometown of my parents. Coram had better have been telling the truth. I had very little doubt about his honesty, but a cautious side to me taught me to keep the possibility in mind.

It was a foolish practice to build your hopes up. At least, I always thought so. The only hope I had ever built up was when I was still a patient at Styx. A young boy believed that there was a better world beyond those hospital walls. And he was right… for a time. Now that boy was a young man. And now he knew the world wasn't as beautiful as he thought it would be.

Faleron began singing softly. "We're off to see the Wizard! The Wonderful Wizard of Oz…"

Ah. I glanced at the dark haired boy in the rearview mirror and allowed myself to smirk. A grumpy girl at my side and an exuberant child behind me. The story of my life.

~~

Tusaine was the kind of place I'd like to go to when I was desperate. Seriously. There were very few hustlers working crowds in the downtown area—less competition for me. And the number of pay-by-the-day jobs caused my head to nearly spin. If I ever needed to go someplace with a guaranteed market of jobs or gullible wealthy idiots, here was my paradise! Here, was my town.

Goodbye, Carthak, I thought, grinning widely. We were in the car, cruising down the street. The open market was bustling with activity. I could see women leaning out their windows having shouted conversations from across the street. There was a group of men sitting on stuffed cardboard boxes, reminiscing about old times. It was quite an active urban environment.

Faleron seemed just as excited as I was. He was bouncing up and down in the back seat, impatient to get out of the car and explore the city. Yvenne was a different story. She slumped in shotgun, propping her knee up against the dashboard and pretending to count the number of tiny hairs on the back of her hand. I didn't care that she was being so pissy. But I did wonder why. Was it that time of the month again? Geez, I had no idea how women worked and I had no desire to find out.

"Did you know I have godparents who live in Tusaine?" Faleron piped up.

Yvenne turned her head slightly. "Oh really?"

"Yeah! This is where my family lives. I was even born here!"

Perhaps he could be of use, after all. "Yeah? Is that so?"

"Uh-huh. But Mom and Dad have to travel a lot because of their jobs. They work for the Council, so I never see them. But I come back here every vacation that my parents happen to be home!" he beamed.

This was just the kind of news that I loved to hear. We stopped at a red light. I looked in the mirror so I could see him. "Hey, Fal. Do you think you call tell me where the hospital is around here?"

"Sure! One of my godfathers is always getting into accidents, so I visit him a lot when I'm in town."

"Yeah? What else?" Far be it for me to stop the kid from spilling out all the information he could. It was bound to be of great use in some way or another. I had never been to Tusaine before. I did not look forward to getting lost or running into the wrong people. Faleron here would be my little tour guide. The hard part, though, would be leaving the tour guide behind when I finally decided to see the sights.

Faleron continued to bounce cheerfully on the backseat. "My Mom always yells at Uncle Neal—he's the godfather I was talking about, he's in the DJPF—and she tells him to get a desk job if he's always getting hurt, but he doesn't want to. I don't blame him. It's boring behind a desk. And besides! He's First Class! He gets all the really fun, adventurous cases!"

DJPF? Why couldn't Cleon be the only one? I thought miserably to myself. It was a big reminder that if anything ever happened to little Faleron, I would have the police all over me. No passing Go. No collecting 200 Nobles. Straight to Jail.

"Now that I think about it, nearly all of my godparents and relatives are DJPF…"

I could just picture myself dragging a chipped mug back and forth across iron prison bars.

When we pulled up at the next red light a few minutes later, Faleron pointed to our right. "If you want to go to the hospital, it's down that way a few blocks."

Yvenne sat up, yawning. She glared at me, but her tone was pleasant. "If you want, we'll pull over and I'll drive."

"Sounds good to me. I'll walk the rest of the way, and you can come by in the afternoon to pick me up," I replied, nodding. We were in the left lane, so we couldn't turn right down the street that Faleron said led to the hospital. I pulled over to the side of a hair salon and got out.  Yvenne crawled across the seat until she was behind the wheel, while Faleron remained in the back.

I walked around the car and leaned in the passenger side window. "Why don't you go to your house, Fal? Just to say hi whoever's home. Or visit your godparents. Tell them that Yvenne is your babysitter or something."

They warmed up to the idea quite nicely. Going to his very own house or the homes of relatives meant free food and free showers. And, assuming that his parents were well off if they worked for the Council, then my two companions would be getting many luxuries. I hoped they didn't mention anything that could get me in trouble. They were loyal enough that they would try not to.

But I wouldn't put it past them for accidentally blurting it out, though.

Especially Yvenne. As if she had read my mind, she turned and shot me another dirty look. I had been getting dozens of those since we had left Coram's apartment. I had my secrets. She knew this. I wished she wouldn't make such a big deal out of it.

After they had pulled away from the curb, I turned the corner and began the walk toward the hospital. I could see a series of tall white buildings a few blocks away. That must have been the hospital complex. It brought a crooked smile to my lips. The bigger the place, the greater that chance that I wouldn't be caught. I could slip in and out amongst the crowds of injured and sick without ever being noticed.

Just in case, I had better watch out for cameras. A voice in the back of my mind scolded me for not bringing my hooded sweatshirt so I could at least try to hide my head from watchful eyes. It would have been a good idea to put it on even as I was walking. Why?

Because a sudden tingle on the back of my neck told me that I was going to be spotted by an unwanted acquaintance. Closing my eyes and stopping in my tracks, I waited for him to catch up. There was no point in running. He was a cop.

"Hello, Vinny. Long time, eh?" Ansil Groten said warmly.

I opened my eyes and forced a smile. I hoped he saw that it was false and that he wasn't welcome. Maybe it would drive him away. No, not him. Expressions like those only make people more taunting and willing to stay. It's like an ugly, instinctive urge of men to watch others squirm in silent torment. Grr.

"Hey," I replied, pretending to be bored. "What the hell are you doing here anyway? This isn't your city, Groten."

"Call me Ansil. And no, it's not." He gave me a smug look. "I happen to be on vacation and visiting my sister."

I'll wipe that smile off your face. Just try me.

Glancing around Ansil, I knew there was no escape. I couldn't run. I couldn't hide. This nosey detective was going to be in my business for a while and I was going to waste a lot of time trying to get rid of him. And it's not like I can call out to anyone else to help me. I'm the street punk. He's the hand of the law.

"How's the kid? Wally?" I asked reluctantly. As soon as I recited the question, his answer was already in my head. I listened to the real response anyway.

"He's fine. He's been adopted, I think." He paused. "Are you ever going to tell me how you got possession of that baby?"

Did I look like I had "stupid" branded on my forehead?

"Not now," I muttered. "I'm on my way to see a friend. I have to go."

"Then we'll meet later?" he called as I brushed past him and began to leave.

I shouted over my shoulder, "Not bloody likely!"

Just because I could. Another tingle at the base of my skull told me that I would have to meet him again sooner or later. I preferred to ignore it though. Building up hope against another meeting with him was one of the few exceptions to my rule. Yeah. I wouldn't mind not running into him again. Ansil made me feel guilty. And he made me feel like I was about to be caught. Neither was a pleasant feeling.

I put the encounter with the detective out of my head as soon as I arrived at the hospital. Another problem occupied my mind now. The birth records I needed to find would be archived in older terminals, probably in a dusty unused room filled with file cabinets. I'd seen many such rooms before. But those times didn't seem nearly as important as what I was about to do that day.

The chances that I finally find my parents had never been greater. If I screwed this up, I might as well quit. Then my life would have lost purpose. I'd become just another drifter with no goal but to survive from day to day. It was not the most appealing of futures. I wanted my gift to send me a vision of a beautiful future. Hell, jus being able to call something beautiful again would be worth the effort. Finding the truth about my origins would be the icing on the cake.

It wasn't too difficult to find a laundry room. The hospital had signs and arrows everywhere. It was one of the better hospitals to navigate. You'd think that people break into these restricted areas all the time with the ease that I got in. I put on a white uniform, one that identified me as a therapist from another branch of the complex. I browsed through half a dozen chips that I kept with me to download into my fake ID pager whenever I needed to be a different person. It was good to be meticulous in these sorts of instances.

Stepping back out of the laundry room, I immediately found the perfect victim to let me into the archives. A young man a few years older than me was at a desk, up to his elbows in papers and files. An intern, by the look of him. The panic in his eyes tipped me off. Doctors and nurses asked the poor guy to do a dozen things at the same time. There didn't seem to be enough assistants at the desk to relieve him of the workload.

I quickly strode forward, trying to look impatient and pressed for time. My acting skills had been honed by years of hustling and lying. A little too confident? Me? No, of course not. I was good. I was better than good. I was perfect.

"Hello!" I called to the young man at the desk. "I need to get into the records room. Dated for about 17 to 18 years ago?"

He distracted glanced at me over three clipboards. His eyes rolled down from my head to my toes, as if doubting what he saw. "What for?"

"Look, I need the history of patient I have in physical therapy right now. I'd rather not keep her waiting," I replied, glancing at my watch. Come on, you twerp. Just give me the key…

"Why didn't you just request for a file to be delivered over the network?"

I rolled my eyes. "Everytime I do that, you interns always send the wrong files. Just give me the key to the room, would you?"

The intern reddened slightly from embarrassment. It was routine to check for ID before giving anyone a key, but he was too unnerved by my glaring to do it. He reached into a drawer and handed me a plastic card with a room number on it. I was somewhat surprised he hadn't become suspicious of my youthful appearance and asked about me.  As good an actor as I am my handsome face does seem too good for the mere role of physical therapist.

Yes. It can be a curse, I thought as I ran one hand through my light blond hair.

Though I had no idea where I was going, the numerous signs and arrows (I loved this hospital) eventually steered me in the right direction. I found the room I wanted behind a cart of dirty hospital gowns. Sliding the card through the scanner, a headache formed. I grimaced and rubbed my temples.

This was a sign. I had finally found something. It was a good feeling. Well, not literally, since I then suffered a massive throbbing of the temples. But it felt nice to know that I was on the right track.

I quickly entered and closed the sliding door behind me, locking it to prevent anyone from interrupting me. There were several long rows of actual file cabinets with plastic and paper sheets filed away in dust. A row of outdated computers lined the wall nearest to me on the right. Transparent plastic coverings protected these rather ancient relics of technology from gathering dust. I flung the covers off and pulled up a swirling stool.

"Let's see if this thing still works," I muttered to myself as I turned the computer on. While I was waiting for it to boot up, I spun the stool around so that it elevated itself to a height I would feel comfortable sitting on. I finally sat down and began searching the database in earnest.

First, I narrowed the margin to births that had occurred 16 to 18 years ago. I had never known my birthday, and had always trusted the doctors of Styx to tell me when I had aged another year. Since I'd been on my own, I simply added one to my age every New Year's Day. This system worked for me, though I always wondered what my real birthday was. Whether I was a Leo, or a Capricorn. Yeah, even those petty little thoughts popped into my head from time to time.

Someone once told me that Gemini's get a lot of fun. I sure hope I'm one.

After the field had been shortened, I searched for the name Winston. No such luck. I hadn't been expecting my mother to be listed under that name. What name a woman went by while in labor didn't tell whether or not the guy who knocked her up eventually made an honest woman out of her. But who knows?

I didn't mind so much the thought of my parents not loving each other. It would have been convenient, though, if they had stayed together so I wouldn't have to search twice for each parent. Harsh sounding statement, yeah, but true. I really didn't care.

"Julia…" I whispered, typing the name in slowly. I clicked the search button and waited for the results.

There was a small beep from the computer telling me that its search was successful. There was one entry for that hospital, one entry for the name… Julia Litcott.

I must have stared at that name for several seconds. The green block letters on the black screen weren't letters anymore. They weren't images reproduced on a computer screen. They were a person. She was a person. My hands jerked away from the keyboard and I closed my eyes as if I had been blinded. I pressed the heel of my hands gently to my eyelids and tried to calm the series of images that bombarded my head.

A woman smiled at him. Her strawberry blonde hair fell across her shoulders in gentle waves. It looked so soft. I could almost reach out and touch the silky strands. Her fair complexion was radiant, almost glowing. If the glorious sun were transformed into a person, she would be this light-eyed, fragile creature in front of me. Motherly. That was the word. She appeared absolutely motherly.

The images were gone within seconds. I blinked my dizziness away and refocused on the screen. The details matched everything I was looking for. Approximately seventeen years ago, Julia Litcott had checked into the hospital and given birth to a boy. Unfortunately, she was unmarried and refused to give the name of the father.

That didn't matter, though. The baby was sick. And that overshadowed all other details. The doctors had recorded that he wouldn't cry. And he wouldn't take milk from his mother. They had had to force feed him with a tiny tube and a modified IV. In fact, the baby wouldn't pay attention to anything anyone did. The doctors checked to see if the baby was deaf, but that was not the case either.

Research and care for the baby was incredibly expensive. Ms. Litcott did not have the money to pay for any of the examinations that she was being offered, but she insisted that she wouldn't give the baby up. Finally, a benefactor had donated the money to the baby's care. I scrolled down and tried to find the name of this man. It had to be here somewhere.

And there it was. Mr. Enishi Yukishiro.

At once, it felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. I knew that name. I had to know that name. Didn't I? It felt so familiar. Another piece of the puzzle floated in my mind, lost and directionless. I had no idea how to connect it to my current knowledge. Once again, more questions had been created rather than questions answered. I'm starting to get tired of this.

~~

I left the hospital quickly, changing back into my old clothes and throwing the card key at the back of the young intern's head. My mood was darker now. I had an address and a name, but did I really have a person to go to? The idea of my mother being so close unnerved me. I expected something more climatic than this. At least seeing Coram had made somewhat of an impact on the way I felt.

But now I felt colder than ever. No cold as in chilly, but cold as in… heartless. It was still early in the day. A distraction was needed to take my mind off things just for a bit. After the torrent of nothingness in my head died down, I would visit the address I had retrieved. Then, I would finally see her. This woman. My mother.

There was a place to my right. Bailey's Pub. I peered through the darkened windows. Drinking, billiards, and poker. Seemed to be right up my alley. I entered without another thought and headed straight to the bar. Luckily, I still had my fake ID programmed on my pager. I didn't want anyone hassling me about my age.

It happened anyway. The bartender, a man old enough to be my father and then some, sauntered over, whistling and wiping his hands on the front of his apron. He looked like he wanted to ask me about my age, but something else more important had stolen his attention.

"Hey, can I get a beer?" I called. I know. I don't drink. Well, maybe just holding the damn thing in my hands will get me to calm down.

The bartender shook his head. "We're out."

I raised one eyebrow skeptically and glanced at the other patrons at the bar. "No, I don't think you are."

"Well we are. I can spot a boy when he tries to be a man," the bartender said confidently. He seemed to be sizing me up. "And you are still a boy. A familiar one though." He leaned his elbows on the bar top and squinted at me. After a moment's hesitation, he held out his hand to shake mine. "The name is Bailey. You are?"

He didn't seem like the kind of guy to kick people out for being under aged. I shook his hand briefly and folded my arms across my chest. "Vinny."

"Vinny what?" Bailey pressed, narrowing his eyes.

Irked by his curiosity, I tried to force my gift to work. What would happen if I told this man my name? As per usual, when I needed my talent the most, it refused to surface. I frowned and replied quietly, "Vinny Winston."

"I knew it! I knew it!" the bartender laughed loudly. He cupped his mouth and shouted. "Gratz! Noack! Get over here!"

Two men of similar age to Bailey stood up from a table in the corner and approached the bar. As soon as they saw me, their faces expressed their disbelief. One of them, a man whose nose had been broken one too many times, gaped at me. His mouth resembled a dead fish's, the way it hung open at me.

Bailey patted me hardily on the shoulder. "This is Noack," he gestured to the broken nosed man. "And the other one is Gratz. Do you know who we are, boy?"

"Drunken old men?" I supplied, slightly irritated.

"No! Well, that too… but we're also your daddy's old friends! You are Jack's son, aren't ya?"

Gratz began stroking his chin. "Yeah, I can see the resemblance. Ya hafta be his boy! I wish Jack were still around so we could ask him. What happened to your dad?"

All the muscles in my body tensed. I turned slightly on my stool so that I faced all three of them. What made me so sure that this wasn't another episode of The Twilight Zone? "I don't know. I never met him. So, you guys knew him? Really?"

Bailey cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again very loudly, "Which ones of you good-fer-nothin' old dogs remember our legendary Jack Winston?"

All the older men in the pub began raising their respective pints of beer and whatnot. They began cheering and whistling, creating enough noise to convince me that this was really happening to me. I was stunned by all the response that was given. By this time, any younger man who felt out of the loop started to cheer, too, just to be apart of whatever free rounds of beer that just might be offered to the "good-fer-nothin' old dogs".

"Does that convince ya?" Noack asked, nudging me in the ribs with his elbow. "We all remember your dad. Good man. Tough and brave! Would do anything!"

"Finest racer there ever was in these parts!" Gratz added. He guffawed and slapped his thigh. "I should know! I lost to him too many times!"

I blinked. "Racer? What kind of racer?"

"Motorcycles, you daft boy! It's your heritage! Don't tell me you don't know about motorcycles!" Bailey exclaimed. The other two men seemed just as horrified at the mere idea.

My annoyance was really starting to build. "I really wouldn't know. I haven't met him. Ever."

As much as I was appreciating the information about my father that these men were giving me, I was very aggravated with their many assumptions that I was just like him. Once again, my appearance had led people to relate me to my father. Okay, fine. But what about my mother? She was the one who I found. She was the one who was fighting to keep me while she was hospitalized. Why hadn't anyone ever mentioned anything about her?

"Such a shame," Bailey sighed. He poured me a mug of beer, as if in apology. As he pushed it toward me, he shook his head. "Such a shame. We haven't seen him for nearly two decades. Rumors and legend run wild around these parts on what became of him. No one really knows."

"I bet Mr. Y would know, if he were still here," Noack said gruffly. He took a cigarette from his pocket and proceeded to light up.

Gratz nodded in agreement. "Right! Mr. Y would definitely know what happened to his favorite."

"Who is Mr. Y?" I asked, confused. I held the mug tightly in both my hands.

The bartender glared at his two friends for even mentioning the name. He turned to me sympathetically. "Mr. Y was the leader of the mafia that ran this city back when your dad was around. There was nothing he didn't have his hand in, and nothing that went on without his permission. Like your dad, he picked up and left without a trace. But he disappeared years after your dad did, so I don't think the two are connected at all."

"Oh." Fury burned in my gut. My father had been apart of a mafia. And to top that all off, he had been the favorite of the mafia's leader. It was a despicable thought. I started to view the men around me with disdain. They had probably all been apart of that mob. And now, they were washed up middle-aged men drinking in a lousy pub.

What a nice heritage. Yeah, right.

"Look, I've been trying to find my mother. Do you guys know a Julia Litcott? Does she still live here?"

The former motorcycle racer Gratz shrugged. "She moved a couple of times, but yeah. She's still in the city." He whispered the next part. "Rumor is that she still receives annual checks in the mail from Mr. Y for some reason or another. Maybe the boss felt bad that his favorite's lady was not making ends meet and that Jack had disappeared."

Noack smacked his friend in the side. "Don't tell him that! The boy doesn't want to hear things like that, you ass!"

"It's okay," I interrupted. The two men turned to look at me sadly. "Really. Can I just have her address?"

They gave me one that was different from the one I had obtained from the hospital. At least it saved me from going on a wild goose chase. I scribbled the address down on a scrap of paper that I kept in my pocket, just in case my memory failed me.

"One more thing," I began. "What does Mr. Y stand for?"

Bailey looked disapprovingly at me. "Why, Mr. Enishi Yukishiro of course. The name still inspires fear around here. Always has, always will."

Hello, Mr. Wizard of Oz.

Yukishiro. Enishi Yukishiro. I thought back to the name I read in the archives. My mother's benefactor. My father's mob boss. A man, known two decades later, for being the mastermind behind who knows how many crimes…

I lifted the mug of beer to my lips and began drinking it all down. My father's friends appeared as if they wished they had simply kept their mouths shut. After I finished the drink, quite dizzily (though it was more from shock than alcohol), I reached into my pocket for money. Bailey refused the money and sent me on my way. As I stumbled out of the pub, I could hear the three men wish me good health and invitations for me to come back and see them.

Still dazed and upset, I began to head in the direction of the new address. My mind stumbled over the information I had been giving, each little piece of information. It was a never-ending cycle of thoughts in my head that made me even woozier. It had been a very big day for revelations—not good revelations. Just big ones. That hurt like a bitch.

By the time I had entered the apartment building and stood in front of a small brown door, I was half-crazed. After this, I never wanted to be recognized for my father's features ever again. Ever again. It made me sick to my stomach to wonder what kind of man my father really was.

Black. I'm going to dye my hair black, I thought deliriously.

I knocked on the door.

~~

Author's notes:

Many, many confusing questions created for Vinny. And he thought he was finally getting some answers! Well, I hope you enjoyed this installment of the series. I always have fun writing from Vinny's perspective, though it takes an effort to force myself to be as arrogant as him.

So! He's met Coram and Kimmy. He's even met Joren's mafia buddies! Anyone recognize the three characters I used? Bailey, Noack, and Gratz?

Aha… and so little Faleron has some relatives in Tusaine, eh? More cameos, possibly? You'll see. And now Vinny gets to meet Julia! Well, that's what we're hoping for…

Thanks for reading! Please review to tell me what you think!

Another unedited episode brought to you by:

Sulia Serafine ^.^