A/N: Many apologies for the rather lengthy hiatus; I'm working on several pieces right now (this is the only fan fiction; don't get your hopes up too high) so it's taking me a while to pay attention to everything.
This may get pushed more realistically to possibly seventeen chapters or more, depending on when my muse will let me stop. I promise you that, despite appearances, this isn't over yet.
Also, many thanks to Zacharee for beta-ing this chapter for me on such short notice. I did choose to disregard some comments, however, so the discrepencies herein remain mine. Reviews, comments, e-mails, or all of the above are very welcome. I've gotten a couple e-mails saying "though you're probably too busy to respond to this..." and I'd like to just remind you all that I do check my e-mail daily and will get back to you. I value the time you take to compliment me on my mediocre story.
Without further ado, I present to you...
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Chapter Fourteen: Lost in Translation
Pierre felt as though he had suddenly come to life after a deep swoon. He held his head higher, his eyes shone with the light of life, as with swift strides he followed and overtook the girl and came out on Povarskaya Street. The whole street was shrouded in clouds of black smoke. Here and there tongues of flame broke through the haze.
Count Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace, page 1108
Warren sat in one of the kitchen chairs and wished he had something to calm his nerves. "So, Mrs. Odelle," he began, leaning back in the chair and reflexively tapping his fingers against the side of it, "what exactly happened down here?" He gestured to the oven, which was still flaring inside but had died down considerably.
Dawn's mother pulled up a chair across from the pyrokinetic, toying with the phone she had just used to order an ambulance. "Dawn's told me about the time you saved the school from the shadow using your fire."
"Well it wasn't just me," Warren interrupted modestly, "there were - "
"Don't interrupt me, young man."
He blinked. "Yes, ma'am."
"Fire appeared to be its weakness when set upon it extensively. I was in its way when it came down here, we tussled for a little while, and I trapped it inside the oven. The substance isn't exactly flammable but is more like a mixture of water and puffs of oxygen. When lit, it does…that." Mrs. Odelle pointed to the oven, where bursts of flame were visible through the small transparent opening.
"You're burning it to death in an oven?" Warren asked, raising an eyebrow. "Doesn't seem like an effective seal."
Mrs. Odelle gestured to her nail gun on the counter and extensive nails, props, and barricades applied to the oven. "Normally, no, but I'm making do and it seems to be working." Coincidentally, it was at just this point that the flames in the oven abruptly died down and gave a final whimpering flicker before extinguishing entirely.
There was a pause, filled by Warren shifting nervously, before he finally awkwardly suggested they open the oven.
"Oh, let its remains rot." Mrs. Odelle muttered, making her way to the stairs, "I'm going to go get Dawn."
Warren flushed and looked down, berating himself for abandoning Dawn in her room. He, with the assistance of Dawn's mother, carried the beaten girl downstairs where they laid her on a couch to await the ambulance.
"Did that thing say anything about why it was after us?" Warren muttered, carefully propping a pillow up underneath Dawn's head.
Mrs. Odelle looked up in surprise and shook her head, "It's not the movies, my dear; sometimes not everything is revealed." She reminded him calmly - far too calmly, in Warren's opinion - as if her remark would explain everything.
"But mother," Dawn piped up softly from her position on the couch, the pillow making it easier for her to breathe, "sometimes it's not that cliché, no, but sometimes other predictable stuff…does happen. Like the hero getting the girl." Warren's head shot up at her not-so-subtle remark, but she refused to meet Warren's gaze. He suddenly appeared to be exceedingly interested in the fuzz of the carpet.
Mrs. Odelle nodded her confirmation and abruptly left the room, calling back an excuse about cleaning the kitchen.
Warren rubbed a hand across his eyes, sat in a chair across from Dawn's couch, and slouched wearily. "This is incredibly anti-climactic; I can't believe your mom beat me to that thing." He growled under his breath.
Dawn looked over, had the urge to ask if he had planned on avenging her, but failed miserably in her attempts to do so. Somehow, even after all they'd been through together, she still felt like a lovesick puppy around him. "Like mom said, it's not…the movies. But Warren, I'm…sorry I shut you in the closet. I didn't want you to get hurt."
As Dawn apologized, Warren's mind was filled with what had just happened, and the anger swept through his body again. "If you hadn't put me in there, neither one of us would have gotten hurt." He snapped, running a hand through his hair and gritting his teeth.
"It would have k-killed you!" Dawn stammered, clenching her fists as her exertion flooded her body with pain.
"That's not true!" The pyrokinetic snarled, rising to his feet and stepping over to the couch. "It almost killed you because I wasn't there!"
Dawn looked up defiantly at Warren but soon withered under his gaze. "I didn't die, though, and I think that - "
"I don't give a damn what you think you did right or wrong!" The pyrokinetic's growl tore from his throat and his hands immediately ignited.
Dawn flinched and cowered, looking down at her broken leg, which was now beginning to bleed on the couch. Her stomach flipped as she realized how close to death Warren had thought she had come, and how close she could have come. The telekinetic began to feel sick as she looked at her own blood, so she turned her eyes back to Warren's angry face.
It made her feel just as torn apart inside.
"Warren, I…don't know what you want to hear."
The young man's anger slipped as he saw her dejected demeanor, and he ran a hand over his eyes, grinding his teeth. "I don't know what I want to hear either." He muttered, sitting on the carpet by the couch and resting his back against the arm. Part of him wanted to deck her for being so stupid, but the other part told him he'd have plenty of time to do that when her leg wasn't in pieces.
There was a vigorous knocking on the front door, and Mrs. Odelle scrambled from her position in the kitchen to open it. Warren realized she must have heard him screaming at her daughter, and he was startled as to why she didn't stop him. Instead of asking, he just watched. As she opened the door, one of the hinges broke off from previous strain, but she ignored it.
She ushered two tawny-headed young men into the living room, assisting them with the stretched they bore between them.
"I'll get her on, mate." One of the men said to Warren as the pyrokinetic stood, the first's voice displaying a distinct Australian twang.
"No; I will." Warren said flatly, slipping one forearm under Dawn's upper back and the other under her knees. As he lifted her up, Dawn tried not to get carried away with her thoughts. She could tell he was being as gentle as possible, but his arm under her leg still felt uncomfortable. Her arms involuntarily wrapped around Warren's neck, and she rested her head on his collarbone.
As he set her on the stretcher and she was forced to relinquish her position in his arms, Dawn took a chance and snuck a quick press of her lips against the side of Warren's neck. It was like a kiss begging his forgiveness, and she opened her mouth slightly, her breath warm against his already hot skin. Dawn was tempted to make it last longer but was afraid of what he might do to her if she did. Before anyone around them could notice, she had pulled her mouth away. He audibly sucked in a breath of air, but continued to lower her gently onto the stretcher. When he stood again and she met his gaze, there was something in his eyes Dawn didn't quite recognize and wasn't sure she wanted to. She broke the gaze and finally noticed that one of the attendants - the one who wasn't Australian - was watching her very intently. She ground her teeth and closed her eyes, allowing the two men to carry her to the ambulance.
Being in the back, she didn't notice Warren climbing into the passenger seat of the ambulance and insisting he come along.
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Working my hands off here in Texas. Keep reading and I'll keep writing!
Corvaisis
