Disclaimers: I do not own 'Lord of the Rings' or the characters within that story, or its prequels. That honor goes to J.R.R. Tolkien and his estate, and somewhat to Peter Jackson. I own the novel and the movies, but that's about it. Please be advised that this story mixes canon elements with the movie 'verse, along with some of my own ideas. Thus, Boromir has blond hair and Faramir has red hair, because when I hear those names, Sean Bean and David Wenham come to mind. Nor do I apologize for preferring movie Faramir to his book counterpart. Perfection isn't particularly appealing to me.
What I do own: the modern day counterparts of the Middle-earth characters, namely: Michael Norman; Devin, Brody and Flynn Hurley; Ava and Robin Edmunds; and Wendy Stryder. I also own Allison Norman, and any other original characters who pop up. It's a source of great joy for me to take clichés I find in fandoms. . .and turn them on their respective heads. Yes, I'm warped. That said, I hope you enjoy this variation on a popular (over-used?) theme.
Prologue: 1994
It was a beautiful day in late June, and nineteen year old Allison Kathleen Norman was absolutely positive that this summer would mark the greatest time in her life. She was holding tightly to her elder brother Michael's hand, never minding that she might receive strange looks. She didn't care. It was summer, school was out, and she had talked her brother into bringing her into town. Of course, it didn't hurt that he planned to go to the store.
Even so, that met with Allison's approval, because she wanted more than anything to see Flynn Hurley, the handsome clerk at the convenience store where they bought most of their junk food. She had a crush on him ever since she was thirteen and first started looking at males as something other than irritations. . .aside from her brother, of course. And it was when she was thirteen that the Hurley men arrived in River's Dale. The timing was incredible.
Devin Hurley was the new police chief. He was handsome, with two sons. . .twenty-one year old Broderick and sixteen year old Flynn. Brody was your prototypical jock at first glance. Tall, blond and muscular, Brody was then a college junior majoring in law enforcement. He would be, Devin said proudly, a cop just like his old man. Flynn was also tall, but he was more slender than his brother, and rather than blond hair, Flynn's hair was more of a reddish gold. Devin loved his younger son, but often seemed nonplussed by him, as if trying to figure out where he came from.
Michael had to explain that to his thirteen year old sister, who was more than a little confused by this statement. When he said Devin couldn't figure out where Flynn came from, Michael explained, it just meant that like most people, Devin couldn't understand why Flynn wasn't more like his older brother. To which, Allison asked, why would he want Flynn to be like Brody? Michael, for once, had no logical answer.
They grew up together. . .Brody and Michael, Allison and Flynn. Devin was, in the beginning, somewhat leery of the Norman siblings. Allison never entirely understood why. But as the years rolled by, he began to relax. Perhaps he was amused by the friendly competition between Brody and Michael, perhaps he took comfort in knowing that Flynn had someone nearby who was his own age and shared his interests.
Perhaps it was preordained, if only by teenage hormones, that as Allison grew, her feelings for Flynn changed. Indeed, as she and Michael entered the convenience store, Flynn only had to look up at her, blue eyes twinkling under a mop of red hair, and smile. It was his smile that did it to her every last time. That sweet, gentle, half-smile that turned her knees to water, and reduced her mind to mush.
Michael greeted their friend with a smile, and Flynn grinned back, saying, "I was wondering when you two would get here! I've got the CD's I promised you in the backroom. Give me two minutes, and I'll get them for ya." Michael shook his head, and Flynn persisted, "Michael, if I don't do it now, if I wait until later, I'll forget. You know that. Dad always teases me about how absent-minded I am when I'm studying."
There was the barest hint of pain in his voice, and Allison frowned. She knew, of course, that Devin rejoiced in the accomplishments of his elder son. Brody was the jock, he was the sports hero. He was the man's man, as the saying went. But she always believed that Devin was just as proud of Flynn as he was of Brody. He just didn't know how to show it, because he didn't really understand Flynn. His brother, Brody confided once, was a lot like their mother. . .it was made all the more eerie by the fact that their mother, Fiona, died when Flynn was still a baby. He never really knew his mother.
Michael picked up on their friend's distress as well, and asked, "Everything okay, Flynn?" The college senior shrugged, and Michael stepped closer to the counter, saying, "Look, don't worry about the CD's. I don't need them until next week anyhow. . .that's when Wendy is coming home from Europe. Right now, the brat child and I are just looking for some junk food." Allison rolled her eyes and gave her brother a brain duster.
At least, she tried to give him a brain duster, but Michael caught her hand in mid-swing, and told her, "Wouldn't advise that, baby sister. . .you know what they say about payback." Allison was on the verge of a smart-ass comment, then she saw Flynn's expression. Usually, the bantering between the two siblings could make him laugh. Not today. Today, he just looked unhappy. What on earth transpired between him and his father? Even after knowing the Hurley clan for six years, Allison knew she would probably never know. There was so much she didn't know, so much she didn't understand. . .so much that was unsaid.
So she settled for, "Which payback would that be, brother mine? Hell or bitch? There's a reason they say payback's a bitch, after all." Michael glared at her, but Allison just glared right back, her chin lifting defiantly. He should know better than that by now. She smiled at Flynn, adding, "Let me know if you wanna go swimming sometime, Flynn. Unless. . ." Oooh, shit, she never even thought of that. However, she forced herself to continue, "Unless Ava is planning to visit? Of course you'd want to spend time with your girlfriend?"
Ava was something of a sore spot with Allison. On the one hand, she made Flynn happy. On the other. . .on the other, Allison couldn't help distrusting her. She didn't know Ava that well, and putting aside her crush for a moment, Allison was always very protective of Flynn. In part, because like Flynn, she lost her mother when she was still a child. Similar wounds cause similar scars, and while Jillian Norman's body died when Allison was twelve, her spirit died long before that.
"I always have time for you, Allie Kat, you know that," Flynn answered, turning the page of his textbook. Damn. She hated it when he did that. On the other hand, it was a comfort, knowing that someone other than her brother could read her so well. . .and not use it against her. Flynn continued, "But you have a point about Ava coming next week with Wendy. She doesn't. . . she's a little jealous of you, so we'll try to avoid giving her any reason to be jealous."
All right, there was another reason Allison didn't trust Ava. The first time the equestrienne came to River's Dale to visit her brother, she developed a huge crush on Michael. Then she met Flynn, and did a total one-eighty. It was real hard to trust someone who switched her affections so quickly and so easily. Michael was still fond of Ava, so Allison never confided her feelings to him. However, she did tell Brody.
After all, if there was anyone as protective of Flynn as she was, it was Brody. He listened to what she had to say, then pointed out that Ava admitted that she had a schoolgirl crush on Michael. . .but she loved Flynn. Allison could appreciate that. . .and Brody's not so subtle hints that really, she was still too young for Flynn. It was just. . .was she the only one who didn't trust Ava Edmunds? It looked that way. Maybe she was wrong about the other girl. Maybe.
There were a few more moments of pleasantries, then Michael and Allison moved on. It was movie night for the Norman siblings, and they had to have appropriate junk food. Cotton candy, popcorn, candy. . .whatever they wanted. It was a carry-over from their childhood, back when their father was around and their mother was alive in all senses of the word. Michael and Allison were happily teasing each other when a popping sound directed their attention away from their mock-argument.
Michael and Allison stared at each other, then Michael looked around the edge of the aisle. What he saw there caused him to pale, and Allison gulped. Whatever happened, it frightened Michael. Nothing frightened Michael. Then a voice said, "I know you're back there, now come on out." Michael took her hand and led her into sight. Allison caught her breath, as she saw what Michael had only a few moments. Flynn. . . Allison's small hands clenched into fists at her sides. Flynn. Oh God. Flynn. Flynn, no, no, no!
"Well, well. . .looks like I got two more people. Be smart, and you'll live a little longer. Unlike him," a man said. The voice belonged to a man, though she couldn't see his face. He wore a ski mask. But she couldn't look at him for long. Allison kept looking at Flynn. Wake up, Flynn, wake up. Flynn made no move. He was still. So very still. He was the quiet one. But he was never still. Only when. . .
Yes, that was it. When Allison was fifteen, Flynn was still trying to prove that he was just as good as his older brother. . .and took a foolish chance. It nearly cost him his life, and he lay in a coma for nearly two weeks. Devin Hurley was beside himself with grief and fear and rage. Rage with himself, primarily, though also with Flynn. He never left his son's side, nor did he release Flynn's hand. That was the only time Allison ever knew her friend to be still.
That was it, then. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be dead, he was just unconscious. That's right. He was unconscious. Any moment now, he would wake up. But then, the burglar did something unforgivable. He walked behind the counter, where Flynn lay on his side and kicked him onto his back. That simple action set forth a chain reaction that Allison couldn't have foreseen when she begged her brother to take her into town today.
For on the left side of Flynn's chest was a burn mark. A bullet. A single bullet. That was all it took to explode a person's heart. Tearing through tender flesh and breaking through protective bone. Flynn wasn't unconscious. He wasn't comatose. He would never wake up. Flynn would never again give Allison that sweet smile she loved so much. He couldn't. Because twenty-two year old Flynn Hurley was dead.
Allison gasped, her hands flying to her mouth to stifle the scream that wanted to tear free of her throat. Michael, reacting instinctively to his sister's distress, stepped between her and the sight of Flynn's limp body. And for the second time in ten minutes, the gun in the thief's hand spat fire. . .and Michael stumbled, knocking Allison to the ground. This time, Allison couldn't hold back her scream as she tried to catch her brother, tried to break his fall.
She managed, somewhat. Allison eased her brother to the ground, one leg collapsing underneath her body. But it was already too late. She was no doctor, but she could see that. The bullet didn't strike Michael's heart, but there was no way an ambulance could get here in time. No way in the world. The bullet struck Michael's lung, and even now, that organ was filling up with blood. He gasped, and clutched at her, his face white with pain and blood loss. Allison screamed at the man who just shot her big brother, "He was trying to protect me, you asshole! He was trying to protect me! Oh, God, Michael. . .don't leave me!"
Undoubtedly, it wasn't the smartest thing she could do. He had already killed Flynn. Michael was dying, but at that moment, Allison didn't care about being smart. Her brother was dying in her arms, the collegian she adored was already dead, and in all honesty, she didn't care if she lived or died. To her, it would have served her right if she did die. If she hadn't been so stupid, and gasped when she saw Flynn's body, Michael would have never stepped in front of her, and he would have never been shot. It was her fault. She asked him to bring her to town today, and if they hadn't come to town, Michael wouldn't be dying.
"On the ground! Allie! Mike? Oh, Jesus. . .call an ambulance! We got an injured man here!" a familiar voice called, and Allison looked up. She blanched. This couldn't get any worse. Officer Broderick Hurley was pushing the thief, the murderer, to the ground. Brody continued, his eyes darting about the store, "Allie, honey, keep pressure on the wound. . .do you know where Flynn is? I know he's working today, is he in the back?"
Allison had no idea how the police arrived here so quickly. Did someone hear the shots and call 9-1-1 or something? She didn't know. . .nor did she know what sort of evil god was watching over this day. It was bad enough. . .but for Brody to be here now? Brody repeated, his voice growing ragged, "Allie, sweetheart. . .where is Flynn? Is Flynn okay?" She just stared at the cop, stroking Michael's dark hair. No words would come.
Brody's partner, Ava's older brother Robin, entered the store and Brody rose to his feet, allowing his partner to shadow the gunman. Brody had to know something was wrong. He had to know that. But he didn't want to believe it. Allison could see it in his eyes. Even as he looked behind the counter and a groan broke free, he was still fighting the truth of what he saw. Robin asked anxiously, "Brody?"
Brody didn't answer. He just dropped to his knees and drew Flynn's limp body into his arms, keening. Flynn's head was nestled under his chin. Were it not for the bullet hole marring his t-shirt, anyone would think he was just unconscious. There was a terrible sound from Michael and Allison turned her attention back to her brother. He was trying to speak, but Allison whispered, "No, no, save your strength."
Save his strength? For what? For dying? Michael apparently recognized the truth, even if she didn't. He whispered, "You're worth it, little sister. I love you." His body convulsed in her arms, as he fought to draw air into his ruined lungs. In a dizzying haze, Allison heard Robin screaming, Brody sobbing, and Michael fighting to breathe. Then she heard another voice. A familiar voice. The now-retired police chief was on the scene.
But that didn't matter. Not right now. She tried to force words around the lump in her throat. Tried to tell her brother that he meant everything to her, that she couldn't do this without him. But the words didn't come. Michael smiled weakly at her. . .and then quietly slipped away. Allison screamed again, begging her brother to open his eyes, to wake up, he couldn't leave her! Then someone was tugging him from her arms, and she didn't want to let go. She couldn't let go, she couldn't let anyone take him from her.
Her mother was dead, her father. . .gone. No one knew where, no one ever talked about it. Not even Michael, whose gray eyes flashed with fury when their father was even mentioned. She. . . Michael was all she had left, she couldn't let him go. Flynn was dead, Flynn was dead, he was gone, and never coming back. In that moment, Allison wished with all her heart that Ava visited this week, instead of next week. If Ava was here this week, Flynn would be alive, because he would have the week off. She would far rather see him alive and in Ava's arms, than lost to them all. Flynn was gone, Flynn was dead, and she couldn't let go of Michael, not if she wanted to keep her sanity.
Then big, warm, strong hands were on her shoulders and she was staring into tear-filled eyes. Devin Hurley's eyes. He whispered, "Let him go, Allie. We both have to let go." Michael was at last pried from her arms. She mouthed, 'it's my fault, it's all my fault.' Devin may not have been a subtle man, but he could lip-read. Something the four youngsters learned years earlier. He shook his head viciously and replied, "Like hell it is, little girl. You didn't pull the trigger. You didn't kill my baby boy."
And there the words were. Out in the open, where they couldn't be taken back. Flynn was dead. Michael was dead. Devin's face crumpled and he whispered, "Come here, little girl." He drew her into his arms and she sobbed into his shirt. Allison Kathleen Norman was just nineteen years old, and what remained of her joyous summer and her eager outlook on life was destroyed in one day. . .in ten minutes.
Devin Hurley, retired police chief, picked up Allison Norman and carried her from the convenience store where her brother and his son were murdered in cold blood. Not because they resisted the thief, as Allison later learned. Michael died for simply trying to shield his little sister from the sight of Flynn's body, knowing that she loved him. And Flynn? Flynn died just because. Just because the bastard could take the life of a young college student, who was loved.
Devin changed that day. They all did. But Devin's guilt ate him alive. For days after Flynn's murder, he sat in his youngest son's room, reading his journals. Flynn took copious notes in class, and recorded all of his fears in his journals. Including the growing rift with his father. They had so little in common. Six months after Flynn's murder, Devin shattered for good and took his own life.
Brody changed as well. He was always competitive, always driven. But his brother's murder drove him further. Even worse, Brody shut Allison out. She was grieving for both her brother and the boy she adored. He shut her out. . .even if his father didn't blame Allison for Flynn's death, Brody did. In a confrontation about two weeks before Devin's suicide, he told her bluntly that she should have died that day, instead of his darling baby brother.
She felt the same way, but the words still hurt. Allison withdrew from Brody further, even after he tried to reconcile with her. Ironically, it was Ava who provided the most comfort. . .Ava and Michael's beloved Wendy. It was Ava, grieving for the loss of her boyfriend, who introduced her to Delia. It was Delia's husband who murdered Flynn and Michael on that day. It was her husband who shattered Allison's world.
Because of that, Delia felt a responsibility to all three girls. . .to Ava, to Wendy, and to Allison. It was with the help of those three women that Allison got through the years after her brother's murder. It was they who supported her through the terrible sham that was a trial. Not that there was a miscarriage of justice. . .the bastard was convicted. . .but it made Allison physically ill to see the attempt to turn that monster into a victim.
Even with the support of her three friends, and the satisfaction of seeing Saul Conover pay, it would be many, many long years before Allison had any sort of peace. . .