Chapter 9

"You're really very stupid, you know that, Cromwell?"

"I think that I've figured that out by now, Windy." Ann snapped back to one of the two other females present.

Windy was generally one color. Pale blue-white hair, skin, and eyes. Her hair reached almost to the floor, and her long, medieval-style dress was also pale blue.

"Now Windy, be nice to Em. She is having a hard time." Said the other, who was much more soft-spoken.

"No, Gaia." Ann said, holding up a hand. "I can't make anymore excuses for myself. I behaved very badly. But what can I do?"

"Uh, apologize?" Suggested Windy.

"But how? How do I know he would even listen to me? I was a total git! I wouldn't blame him if he never spoke to me again!"

Gaia frowned, considering. Of all of Ann's personal elements, she was best at getting her out of social mishaps. She certainly understood people a lot better then Ann, or any of the others for that matter. With one dark brown hand she twisted a strand of her evergreen-colored hair into a thin braid, and then unwound it. Her eyes, which were all the colors of autumn leaves, twinkled as she pondered the problem.

"Well?" Prompted Windy.

"I don't know." Gaia finally said. "In my experiences with Ember, I have never met anyone like this Warren. I have no idea what he would react best to."

Ann rolled her eyes.

"Oh lovely."

"Ann!"

Popping her head out of her door, Ann called back.

"Yeah, Mom?"

"Your father and I are going now. Remember, we're taking Ariel to stay with your grandparents for next three days, but then you're going to pick her up and take care of her for the rest of the time we're on this dang-blasted business trip. We'll be back in two weeks, and there is enough milk in the refrigerator to last even Ariel at least that time. Have fun and don't get into trouble!"

"Yes Mom! Have fun!" Ann replied. Her parents had gotten a sudden call that there was some serious problem going on at one of her father's properties in San Francisco, so now they would be gone for the next couple of weeks, and Anna would be all alone.

"That's it." She muttered, grabbing her jacket and heading down to the garage.

"Oh no you don't." Windy warned her, while Gaia wrung her hands worriedly.

In the garage was her father's new newly repainted, forest green Honda XR650L. Peter Cromwell had bought the bike on a whim earlier that year, and had ridden it as much as he could in his free time. To be perfectly honest, Ann hadn't been completely truthful to Warren. While she as in England, she had learned to ride well enough, and her father had allowed her to use his bike on occasion as long as she wore practical clothing, and didn't go too fast. If he knew that she was currently in black jeans, a white leather jacket, and hiking boots, Ann would probably have had a bee in her ear. But he didn't, and Ann wasn't in the mood to listen to her father's, or the state's traffic laws. So she was a few months away from her motorcycle license… okay, so it was actually an extremely bad idea, but again, Ann wasn't in the mood.

Pulling on her own matching dark green helmet, she calmly rolled the bike out of the garage, locked the house, and set off. She took back roads as often as she could, even using old trails, and even going completely off road. By the time she had gotten to her destination, her blood was pumping, and her head was a little clearer. Looking up at the sight in front of her, she smiled sadly.

Seeing her childhood home always reminded her of her time in Britain. Her mother's wealthy and eccentric ancestor had built it sometime in the 1920's. He had decided that he wanted it to look as old and elegant as possible, so he had imported stones from England, and had built his home in the style of the old British estates. The stones were a dark gray, and had been covered long ago by the terror of the northwest, American Ivy. Her ancestor had decided that it looked 'quaint', and had let it grow willy-nilly. Unfortunately, he had underestimated just how invasive the plant was, and it had taken over. But it had yet to come in and strangle anyone at night, so they had let it be.

Ann fingered the keys in her pocket, but turned from the house, and walked out into the fields. On her way, she passed the other structure on the property, the equally old barn. It couldn't possibly get more cliché as far as barns go, big, creaking, and red. The Yost family had always had a certain fascination with farm life, even though they hadn't needed the income for a hundred years. And for the past hundred years, they had kept this farm with its chickens, cows, pigs, horses, and all of that other stuff you expect on a farm. When her mother had died, her father had set it up so that people would come every day to take care of the animals and the house, packed up, and moved to the suburban area. But Ann had always kept a special place in her heart for her old home, and whenever things had gotten tough, she had found a way to get away and come to her old tromping grounds.

Finally, she came to the place she had been looking for. The trees parted to reveal a clear, silver stream bubbling and laughing over the rocks, and by its side there was a single, small, obelisk shaped stone. On it was carved the portrait of a woman, and the words,

Eva Iola Yost-Cromwell

Loving and Beloved Mother

"The Power Isn't Worth Pain.

But Life Is."

1974-1998

"Hey Mom." Ann said softly as she sank to the ground in front of her mother's gravestone. "I know, you can't hear me, but it is nice to pretend every once in awhile."

She sighed and looked down at her hands, and began to pick at her nails.

"I'm in a real mess. Yeah, bigger then the time I replaced Andy's drug test with lemon-lime Gatorade. I let my pride get in the way of salvaging what was left of a friendship, and now… now I don't know if I can salvage it.

"You guessed it, Mom. He is Warren-freaking-Peace, and of all the men, of all the pyros in the world, I had to meet him. People have been lying, you know, he isn't like his father, and yet he is. Does that make sense? He isn't his father. He teases me for listening to Andy's paranoia, he looks at Ariel like she is the most precious gem in the world, and he said he was sorry, actually said it. But he is like his father. His temper is quick, sometimes I look at him and I'm afraid, because I can see it in his eyes, he can be cruel, not thinking about others feelings, and he can hold a grudge like no-man's-business. So why do I care, Mama? Why do I care what he thinks of me, or whether he thinks of me as a friend or not. Is it because he's a pyro? Is it something more?"

Ann's ramble/thinking out loud had lasted longer then she thought. When she looked up, the sky had begun to turn violet and pink with the approaching sunset. But she didn't want to go, not yet.

"Hey." Said a soft voice, and Ann's head whipped around in surprise.

Warren stood there, in the entrance to the clearing, calmly looking over the stream, the obelisk, and Ann, on her knees in front of it.

"How did you know I would be here?" Asked Ann.

"I called your mother when you didn't answer my phone calls. She said you might be here. It wasn't too hard to find you, what with the nicely worn path leading here."

"Congratulations." She drawled back, and inwardly winced. Did she sound as sarcastic to him as she did to herself?

"I did say I was sorry." Guess she did.

Ann stood up and brushed off her jeans.

"I know. I just need some time to… to… um…"

"To what? Think of a good excuse to have your father send me to the guillotine?" Warren asked testily.

"Did you just come here to insult me, Warren? Or is there an actual reason that you're bothering me?" Ann snapped back.

"I thought that we might be able to talk, but you don't seem to want to listen to reason."

"Then maybe you should just crawl back into that little hole in the ground you came out of." Ann replied, glaring at him, her lips a thin line, and turned to march away before stopping abruptly. Taking a deep breath, she rolled her eyes up to the heavens.

"No." She said, and turned around. "I didn't mean that. I don't really mean any of it. It's just… I'm not so good at forgiving and forgetting as I would like to be, and I'm sorry."

Warren walked over to stand by her.

"So, you'll forgive me?"

"If you forgive me." Ann said with a soft smile that made her eyes sparkle.

Warren thought for a moment, and then held out his hand.

"Deal." With a smirk, he added. "You know, it would probably be easier to just start all over again."

Ann broke into a full-on grin, and shook his hand vigorously.

"You're probably right." She agreed.

"So, well then. Hi, I'm Warren Peace, son of Barron Battle."

With an answering smirk and a chuckle, Ann shook his hand again.

"Hello, I'm Ember Cromwell, daughter of Eva Yost Cromwell. Pleased to meet you."

They looked at each other for a moment, for the moment content with life. Finally Ann, or Em, smiled.

"Alright! Now that that's over and done with, what do you want to do?"

Looking around, Warren's eye caught on the gravestone.

"Is that where she's buried?" He asked, and Ann nodded. "Why don't you tell me about her? I don't really know that much, aside from the fact that she well… yeah."

"Don't you think you've had enough angst for one week?" Asked Anna, and Warren shrugged.

"So, don't tell me about the sad stuff."

"Oh." Said Em, rolling her eyes. "What about my mother wasn't sad. Mm. I suppose the happiest I remember her being was when I was very little. She was so beautiful, and she would let me brush her hair." Unconsciously playing with a lock of her own hair, she smiled wistfully. "She had lovely hair. It was dark brown, just a little lighter then yours. I remember her eyes too. That and her mouth are really the only things I got from her. So what about you? What is your father like?"

"We weren't really that close." Warren replied, leaning against a tree, hands in his pockets. "I guess my favorite memories of him are when we were just doing normal father-son type stuff. You know, teaching me to ride a bike, and play ball and stuff like that."

"Do you ever get to see him?"

"I could, but I don't really want to."

Ann nodded her head in understanding. Suddenly, she frowned, and turned to look around.

"Do you hear that?" She asked.

Warren strained, and he could vaguely hear what sounded like dogs barking.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"It's just, the dogs shouldn't be this close. They're usually kept in the barn when nobody's home. Maybe they got out, or someone forgot to put them back after they were finished."

"Um… Ann, Em, Ann, whatever."

"Yeah?"

"Just what kind of dog are they?"

"Why?"

"I… uh…"

Just then, a pack of five, very large German Sheppard's burst in the clearing and came bounding toward the pair. Warren took one or two steps back, which were one or two steps too many. With a cry, from Ann, he found himself falling backwards, straight into the river.

"Warren!" Ann shouted, followed by a scowl and a string of curses in several languages at the dogs. "Now you've done it you little mongrels!"

Wading into the freezing cold water, Em quickly grabbed Warren's upper arm and helped drag him up onto the ground.

"Merde, Warren. You could have just told me you didn't like dogs!" She scolded. Her frown faded as she realized that he wasn't responding.

"Oh merde." She muttered as she felt his forehead, he was shivering. "Hypothermia. Damn pyros can't take the damn cold."

"Whuzzat 'bout us." Warren slurred.

"Shut up and work with me. We have to get you inside."

Under the circumstances, Warren ignored the insult and with a bit of struggling, they managed to get him on his feet. Even leaning heavily on Ann, he was wobbling.

"Okay, now you're going to have to walk with me because I can't carry you. So come on Warren, move!" She urged.

Warren's shivering had gotten worse, almost to the point of convulsions, but he still moved one foot forward, and then the other. Still leaning on Ann, they limped as quickly as they could to the house, the dogs yelping and barking around them.

"Here, lean against the wall there." Ann said, gently sliding his arm from around her shoulders, and fumbling in her pocket.

"Merde." She muttered again as she dropped her keys on the ground. Her hands were shaking almost as bad as his. With only a few more seconds of fumbling and cursing, she managed to open the door and pull him inside.

"Oh." Warren said weakly as he saw the interior. "Pretty."

"Yeah, yeah, all white and bright. Now walk!"

"Y'aren't bein' vry nice." He murmured.

"No merde. Faugh, I have to stop saying that." Ann snapped back as she dragged him into one of the darkened rooms.

Inside was a comfortable living room complete with leather sofas, fireplace, bookshelves, and wide screen TV. Ann let Warren slip onto the rug in front of the fireplace as she scurried toward it. She quickly found matches, wood, and old newspaper, and mentally said a prayer of blessing for the men and women who kept the house so well stocked. With only a minimum of scuffling she got the tinder and paper arranged in the fireplace, and managed to strike a match and light the paper in several places.

"Of all of the times to not be able to control fire."

"Ahem."

"What now, Wren!"

"Try it, kitten."

"You mean…?"

"Just do it."

Closing her eyes and focusing on the few flames, Ann took every bit of anger she could find in herself she shoved it all at them. With a slight flame-thrower effect, the fire roared to life, and she sighed in relief, and quietly thanked Wren for not being a total… ahem.

But when she looked back at Warren, she saw that his skin had turned a grayish-blue color, and he was moving even less then before.

"Oh come on, Warren." Ann crooned, moving to sit beside him. "Don't do this to me. You've got to fight it!" An idea suddenly came to her, one which she really should have thought about a lot earlier, but really wasn't something she wanted to do.

"Don't get the wrong idea about this, but these clothes are too wet and cold for you right now." Ann warned as she began to peel off his jacket, and then began on his shirt.

"Knew it."

"What was that?" She asked distractedly.

"Knew this was all just an excuse to get my shirt off."

Ann stopped and took his face between her hands, making sure he was looking at her straight in the eyes.

"Listen to me, Warren Peace. Under any other circumstances I would have boxed your ears for saying something like that. However, since I really don't want you passing out right now, I'm going to let it go, and for now you can say anything you bloody well want as long as you're conscious. Any other time and I will kill you. Understand?"

"Y's'm'm." He muttered back.

"Goody. Now help me out here."

Warren managed to move, or more accurately slump, in the right directions as she pulled his t-shirt, shoes, socks, and jeans off, leaving him in his boxers. Squeezing her eyes shut to quell the headache threatening to begin raging in her skull, she began to pull off her own jacket. Warren opened his eyes just as she pulled off her jeans, leaving her in her sports bra and panties. He gave a weak grin.

"Wul'd I get hit f I s'd m'dayz get'n bett'r'n bett'r?" He asked.

"Yes." She snapped back, but couldn't help but smirk slightly.

"Aw crap!" She exclaimed as her warm skin came in contact with his cold body. Cringing, she wrapped her arms and legs around his body and pulled a wool blanket over them. Warren moved his arms slightly so that his arms were around her.

"Th's ain's'bad."

"It will be when you die because I left you here alone because of the incessant perviness!"

"Fr's, tht ain'a'wrd. Secn' m'a'gy. Th's's nrm'l fr me."

"Right, how about I do the talking, and you listen to me?"

"O'ky, M." He agreed.

"Just don't fall asleep on me, okay? Um… let's see… have you ever heard the poem 'The Lady of Shalott'?"

"N'"

"I'll tell it to you. Um… On either side the river lie. Long fields of barley and rye."

"O. Th't knd'v feld."

"Shut up. That clothe the wold, and meet the sky; and thro' the field the road runs by to many towered Camelot."