Chapter XIII

All Ann could think as she walked back into the waiting room was that she hoped that Warren's mother didn't ask her anything, because she really didn't think she could stand trying to explain herself at that moment.

He was right in the other room. Ann had always taken it for granted that she would never see him, never talk to him. Barron Battle was the man that her mother had loved above all others. More then her father, and more then Ann. All at once, all of the bitter feelings that she had tried to disguise and push down welled up again. Who did he think he was? What right did he have to say that he wanted to talk to her? It was his fault that she didn't have a mother.

"People make their own choices. People are responsible for their own actions."

Ann looked up to see Rosalind gazing at her with thoughtful, almond-shaped eyes. The older woman stood leaning against the wall across from Ann's seat on one of the overly used chairs in the room.

"What?" Ann asked softly.

"I know what you're thinking about," she said in her quiet, yet commanding soprano. "It doesn't take a telepath to guess. But the truth is just what I said. You can't blame everyone else for yours, or someone else's problems. Your mother never did that… and neither did my husband."

Rosalind Li-Mei Peace was a strong woman. She had to be, raising a hotheaded boy like Warren by herself for so many years. And yet, at this moment, Ann also saw fragility in her, and she couldn't help but respect her.

"You're right," she admitted.

"You don't have her coloring," Rosalind commented, cocking her head to the side as if it would help her to see the girl better. "And you have your father's nose. But your eyes are the same, and your mouth. I can see why he wishes to speak with you."

"I was wondering that myself."

"Because, Ember, if Barron can find forgiveness in you, it is the closest thing to him finding forgiveness in your mother that he is likely to get in this life."

"Why would he want that?" Ann asked with a frown, noting the lack of the use of her mothers name in the conversation. It wasn't really that hard to say. E-V-A. E-va. Sheesh.

"Barron has always held himself responsible for your mother's death."

"Eva." Ann whispered as she thought over this latest piece of information. Rosalind smiled indulgently.

"Yes. Eva." she agreed.

"But why tell me this?"

Rosalind sighed, and walked across the room slowly to sit in the chair beside Ann's.

"I remember a time, not so long ago, when I agonized over this all day, every day. Eventually I got over it. I learned to forgive. But I can see that you haven't quite reached that part yet."

Ann studied the expression of her friend's mother carefully.

"You're a much better woman then I am, Mrs. Peace," she finally admitted.

"Bull." Rosalind countered. "I'm just older. Be sure, one day you'll be as old and 'experienced' as I am."

Ann could practically hear the quotation marks in her tone. With a sigh she let her head fall back onto the back of her seat. She could feel physical and emotional exhaustion begin to creep up on her. The past month she had been through an emotional roller coaster, and it had affected her sleep. Rosalind seemed to notice this, and let her rest. Soon she was asleep despite the uncomfortable position. She was so deep in sleep that she didn't even notice when Warren came out.

Rosalind smiled at him lovingly, and stood up from her seat. Wordlessly she ran a hand over her son's cheek. She felt a pang of nostalgia as she looked up at him. He had grown into such a handsome young man, and was now even taller then his father.

"He wants to see you," said Warren.

Rosalind smiled and nodded. "Ember is sleeping."

Warren looked over her shoulder at the girl. She had curled up into an astonishingly tiny ball in her chair, and her head had fallen to rest on her shoulder. He nodded, silently agreeing to let her rest.

An hour later Rosalind came out, hastily brushing a few stray tears from her cheeks. She gave her son a shaky, but content smile. He had been sitting next to Ann, letting her use his shoulder as a pillow, since the angle was a lot better for her neck then the way she was sleeping before. Now he gave her a gentle nudge to wake her up. Her eyes blinked open slowly, and she looked around a moment, taking in her surroundings.

"Hey," Warren said quietly, and she turned her head to look up at him. "It's time."

Ann groaned dejectedly. She really had little desire to talk to Barron Battle, but she supposed that he deserved the chance to… Actually, she didn't know what chance he deserved. She just had the feeling he did.

Running a hand through her slightly mussed up hair, she stepped back through the door to Barron's room. He was sitting up now, looking a little bit more alert, and a lot more imposing, then the last time she had seen him. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped over to stand beside him when he beckoned her with a hand. She nearly turned around and ran back out when she looked into his eyes. They were the same deep, ruby red that she remembered both from her childhood, and from her dreams.

"Little Ember," he murmured in amazement. "You've grown so much. Please, sit down."

The chair she sat down in at least had a better cushion then the ones in the waiting room, but to Ann it felt ten times worse.

"Where do I start?" Barron continued, half to himself. Ann shrugged, feeling little desire to try and make this more comfortable. "How old are you now?"

"I'll be sixteen in December," she said simply.

Barron smiled. "I still remember the day you were born. Rose and I came to the hospital as soon as your father called. Your mother…" He trailed off for a moment, lost in the memory, before he collected himself again.

"I had never seen her so happy, or so beautiful then the day you came into her life."

Ann couldn't help it. Her stomach did a flip-flop. "Really?" She asked, her voice catching.

"Oh yes," he replied. With a grin he added, "Do you know, Warren was there too?"

"No kidding," Ann said with an answering smile.

"Of course, he was just a baby himself. I remember Rosy telling me that you two met once more several years later."

Ann frowned. "I don't remember."

"I believe you were about two years old then. Eva and Rose both went to a get-together at Sky High. I believe they were helping to decorate for the prom, or was it homecoming…?" he paused for a moment with a thoughtful expression, but quickly shook it off. "Anyway, you two came along. Eva told me later that Josie Stronghold was talking to her. You had been just standing beside your mother without saying a word; you were always a very quiet child. Josie, without a glance at you, asked her if you had said your first word yet."

"And then what?" Ann asked, finding herself fascinated with both the story and Barron's voice.

"Well, then you looked right up at her and said plain as day, 'Hello? I'm right down here!'"

Ann burst out laughing. "I don't remember that, but I do remember that I always hated it when people talked about me as if I wasn't there."

Barron shrugged. "Josie Stronghold always did have a little too high opinion of her own likeability. But even better, Rose and Warren were standing right next to them. I understand that at that point, Warren looked up at Rose with a perfectly serious expression and said, 'Mom, I think I just met my future wife.'"

Another peal of giggles ripped it's way out of Ann's mouth. The though of a little four year old Warren proclaiming that he was going to marry her was just too much.

Meanwhile, Barron smiled at her. "It's good to hear you laugh. It's a lot like your mother's."

All of a sudden, Ann found the mirth fading as the memories of who this man was, and what he had done to her family came back in a rush.

"Ember," Barron began, frowning at her sudden seriousness. "I want to ask you to do something for me."

"What?" Ann didn't truly know whether she were asking him what he wanted, or for him to repeat what he had said so that she could make sure she didn't need a seriously powerful hearing aid.

"I want you to look after Warren for me."

"What?" she repeated, but louder this time. A disbelieving grin crossed her face. Her? Looking after Warren? It was more likely that if their friendship lasted, it would be him constantly saving her butt.

"Because unlike people who control Earth, or Air, or Water, people can't understand those who control Fire. I think they don't really want to. They don't want to believe that we have very little power over who we are. The only people who really do are other Pyrokinetics and…" he paused, waiting for her to finish the sentence. She obliged.

"Elementalists, because we are all of them. Because we know what it's like to constantly have to battle your instincts."

"Exactly. In Warren's life, he is going to have dozens of times where he is going to need someone who understands him to be there for him. Like Eva was there for me."

Ann raised an eyebrow.

"The thing was, I wasn't willing to listen. Eva was a strong-willed woman, but she couldn't stand up to me. I wish she had been. But Warren is different. When I watch him talking about you, his eyes light up. He respects you, and he cares for you. I never truly respected what Eva gave up for me until she was… gone."

"I…" Ann faltered, trying to think of what she could say to that. Everything came to her in a rush. Understanding, comprehension, whatever you wanted to call it. She understood far more then anyone would ever know what had happened between the man before her and her mother. Elements were pure instinct, they were pure elements, and so they were pure instinct.

She clenched her eyes shut. Now was definitely not the time to go over this.

"Alright," she said finally. "I'll do my best."

"That's all I ask," he agreed with a faint smile. "Now, I am sorry to cut this so short, but I really must get some rest. I hope to see you again soon."

Ann considered this, and then inclined her head slightly. "Maybe… we'll see." She said, and then left, closing the door softly behind her.

Turning around, she saw that Rosalind had gone home, but Warren had stayed behind.

"Don't you want to go with your Mom?" she asked.

Warren shook his head. "We talked about it. I'll be home tomorrow, and I didn't want to leave you all by yourself."

Ann looked down, not willing to look into his eyes. She couldn't say exactly why, but she suddenly felt a tremendous, irrational fear that his would be the same bloody color as his father's. Warren saw this and frowned.

"Are you okay?" he asked, confused at her behavior.

Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile that went nowhere near her eyes on her face, she looked back up and nodded.

"I think that's supposed to be my line," she said, and almost winced. In an attempt to sound joking through the emotions running through her, Ann's voice had cracked shrilly. Warren's frown deepened into the darkest scowl she had ever seen. For a moment she wanted to run and hide.

Spinning on his heel, Warren called back to her, "Come on, let's go."

The drive back to the old homestead was tense, to say the least. Though no words passed between them, there was enough emotion in the car to make up for the lack. With Warren it was anger, confusion, and a great deal of hurt as well. But Ann could barely begin to name everything she felt at that moment.

As they pulled up in front of the house, Ann thanked God that she had asked Layla to take Ariel over to her grandparents before they left. The little girl really didn't need to be stuck in the same house as a couple of insane teenagers.

As if to punctuate his displeasure, Warren made sure to slam the door loudly as they entered the house.

"Another thing to be thankful for," she thought. "Solid oak doors."

He then went on to bang, slam, or in other words, open and close loudly, anything he could get his hands on. A braver girl might have gotten annoyed, but Ann just got scared. Warren kept a tight rein on his temper when he was with her, and for him to so obviously show his irritation was enough to make her quiver inside.

"Just tell me why, Em!"

Ann had been sitting in the living room, trying to look busy lighting the fire, when she heard Warren shout from behind her. Under any other circumstances, he might have thought it was cute how much she looked like a surprised cat at that moment. One could almost see her hair stand up on end. Gathering the last few shreds of her dignity left she turned around calmly and looked at him.

"Tell you what, Warren?"

"Why…" for a moment he seemed unable to speak with rage. He was the kind of person who could go from 0 to 1000 in ten minutes if he dwelt on his feelings too long. Finally he managed to collect himself enough to continue.

"Why can't you just talk to me? I don't mean talking about Ariel, or what we should have for lunch, or even things that happened ten years ago. But what's happening right now! How you're feeling. What's going through your mind?"

Ann gave him a weak smile. "How do you know there's anything going through my mind?" She asked.

He threw up his hands in frustration. "There you go again!"

"Warren," Ann said, and walked around to stand in front of him. "If you could possibly tell me what brought this on…?"

"Before, do you think I ask you how you're doing because I get a kick out of it? I want to know what you are feeling!" He enunciated the last four words very clearly, growing louder with each one.

"I…" she began to explain, but Warren cut her off.

"Is it because you don't trust me? I thought we got past that a long time ago. But now it seems like the more time we spend together, the less you want to have to do with me," a sudden thought flashed through his mind. "Or is it because you don't want people to think that you're not the perfect little British prep school girl?"

Ann's eyes widened with shock. Is that what people thought of her? "I'm not perfect, Warren. What would make you think that?"

Warren laughed dryly. "Oh right, and I'm the long-lost brother of Bruce Wayne. Look at you. Despite everything that's happened to you, you still manage to have a father, mother, and sister who all love you. Not to mention everyone, and I do mean everyone, adores you the minute they see you. The worst part is, they have every reason to! You never lose your temper, never say the wrong thing, and you would never in any way risk getting in the tiniest bit of trouble with anyone. It seems that your only real problems started when you met me."

"That's not fair," Ann said between clenched teeth. If only he knew. "I have feelings just like everyone else. But it's hard to show any kind of feeling when every time you do something horrible happens. Everything else I either don't understand or just don't want to feel period! As for my behavior, there is nothing wrong with trying to be the best person I possibly can be."

"And the primmest, as well as the most obsessive-compulsively good, not to mention the one who rarely has any fun."

"What? Because I actually think before doing whatever pops into my head?"

Warren took a step forward, bringing their noses a scant inch apart, and looked her straight in the eyes.

"Because you never just do something you feel like doing. You always worry about consequences and what everyone will think about you. You probably couldn't blow your nose without making sure there wasn't anyone within a five mile radius who just might be annoyed by it."

Ann rolled her eyes. "Isn't that being a little over dramatic?" Though she was remarkably quieter then Warren, she was quickly beginning to lose her carefully kept control over her temper.

"If you think I'm wrong then prove it. I'm sure there's a couple of things you'd love to do right now," Warren's voice suddenly became dangerously low, daring her to try something.

A million possibilities ran through Ann's mind at that moment, all the way from slapping him as hard as she could to kneeing him so hard that he wouldn't be able to stand for a week.

"You want me to do something that I really want to do right now?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Yeah."

"Anything?"

Warren grinned, sure that she would never break past the carefully constructed walls around her temper. "Exactly. In fact, I dare y…"

He was abruptly cut off when he suddenly felt two small hands grab onto the lapels of his jackets and shove. Warren felt himself moving across the room until his back connected violently with the wall of the living room.

"Em w…"

Again he was interrupted, this time by something pressing sharply against his mouth. It was amazingly soft, warm, and tasted a bit like citrus against his lips. With a shock, Warren realized that Ember Hannah Cromwell was kissing him!

Ember couldn't remember being so angry in her entire life as she was at the moment that Warren Peace dared her to hit him But of all of the ways she could cause him pain that were racing through her mind at that moment, there was only one thing that she really wanted to do. Grabbing his leather jacked she pushed him as hard as she could, and kept pushing until he collided with the wall behind them. Before he could say much of anything, she stood up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

A thrill ran through her, from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. To be honest, the only thing that she had been able to think about around Warren for the past week was what it might be like to kiss him. And she hated it. She hated the idea that she might be more like her mother then ever before. Most of all, she hated the idea that she couldn't ever do anything about her feelings.

Feeling.

That was pretty much all she had at that moment, which was really only about five seconds, or how long it took for Warren to realize what the heck was happening. The feeling of leather against her palms, her toes and neck stinging with pain from having to adapt to his height, but most of all, the feeling of finally being able to let him know how much she cared about him.

With a gasp he pulled away just enough that he could look into her eyes. For the first time, he saw everything she had been trying to hide for the past week. All of the butterflies in her stomach when he grinned at her in the way that only he could that made his entire face light up, the pain of having to spend every day with him without him knowing, and the fear of what her life would be like if he ever left it.

This too, took only a second, and then he wrapped his arms around her waist, his muscles lifting her tiny frame up easily. Before she could protest he was kissing her back.

As they stood there in each other's arms, for the first time in a long time neither truly cared what people would say about them. And neither was enough aware of their surroundings to notice the fire begin to leap strangely inside the brick fireplace.