Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High.
Summary: The simplest of events can change a person deeply. Other not-so-simple events can change a person irrevocably; even if they become someone they had never imagined. These are the events that lead to the creation of Poison and Fire, and their reign of Chaos.
The Heavens and Earth rose out of Chaos.
John Milton - A Paradise Lost
Read on, oh faithful ones.
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Chapter Eleven
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There was a long moment of silence after Layla's statement, and then Warren stood up.
"I'll go with you to the hospital," he said, packing his things.
Grateful, Layla nodded, starting to pack up as well.
"We'll come too. My mum can drive us," Ethan said quickly, going to find his mother before they could argue.
Across from them, Zach closed his notebooks and quietly packed his bag, his thoughts still on the conversation that had been interrupted by the phone call. He was pulled from his thoughts when he saw Warren reach across to Layla, taking her hand and squeezing gently. Zach frowned slightly when he saw the expression on Warren's face. It wasn't quite support and reassurance so much as secretive and protective. He left under the pretence to find Ethan, but stayed in the corridor, listening to whatever they'd say while alone.
"It wasn't you, Layla. It couldn't have been," Warren said quietly.
"How do you know that? Do you really think this is a coincidence, Warren? She wants to send me away, I don't want to go, and suddenly she's been poisoned on a golf course? She goes to the one in Westville, Warren. It's man-made from the grass up; there's no way they'd put poisonous plants on the range!"
"Hey, my mum's just getting ready to go," Ethan announced, walking into the room from the kitchen's entrance.
Zach hurried to go to the kitchen so he could follow Ethan into the dining room. If he'd gone in by the other entrance, it would raise too much suspicion. Moments later, Ethan's mother came in through the hallway entrance, her bag on her shoulder and her hair brushed back into a haphazardly made ponytail.
"Hey, kids, all ready? I'm really sorry to hear about your Great Aunt, Layla. Did the doctors tell you if she'd be okay?"
"It was one of her friends that called me, actually. They told the doctor I was her next-of-kin in place of my mother."
"I'm sure they'll tell you more when you get there," Ethan's mother said sympathetically, and then bustled everyone out to her car.
The forty-minute drive to the private hospital in Westville was silent with everyone consumed by their own thoughts and worries. Layla was given the room number for her Great Aunt, but before they could leave, she was firmly told that only three people could enter at a time, and one of her Great Aunt's friends had stayed behind to look after her. Zach immediately volunteered to stay in the waiting room with Ethan and his mother. Layla thanked them and left with Warren.
"Maybe I shouldn't go in," Warren said as they arrived at the door. "Your Great Aunt doesn't like me, and I doubt she'd like to see me now," he muttered.
"Please, Warren. I need you," Layla said, her hand slipping into his.
He told himself that he was all sorts of sick to be thinking of her saying those words to him, breathless as he teased her relentlessly and her hand moving to... Warren frowned slightly when he felt a vine wrap around his wrist, keeping their hands linked together. That didn't help stop the dirty thoughts...
"All right, I'll come in," he relented.
She smiled in thanks, the vine disappearing as she opened the door.
"You must be Layla? We spoke on the phone; I'm Frieda Olgestein, a friend of your Great Aunt's," a woman said, holding out her hand to shake.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Olgestein," Layla said, shaking her hand briefly, and immediately taking Warren's again. "Have the doctors said anything about my Great Aunt?"
"Nothing more than what the ambulance drivers said; just that she's been poisoned by some sort of plant, and as no one knows what sort of plant injured her, they won't know how extensive the damage is until they've received the test results," she replied. "The doctor's doing her rounds, but should be back in half an hour," she added when she saw the expression on Layla's face.
"Oh, thank you," she said, looking at her Great Aunt.
The skin that wasn't covered in the poison rash was grey against the white bed, and the rash that had begun on her arms was now covering her neck. The gouges on her legs had been bandaged, but blood was still seeping through the cloth. It looked as though her body was killing her from the inside out, and not even the drugs that the doctors had administered were doing anything to help her.
As Layla watched her Great Aunt, Frieda watched her, a slight frown on her face as she took in the worried expression on the young girl's face. This was the unruly rebellious girl who was making Greta Auden's life a living hell? She looked like she was made out of cotton candy and rainbows, for goodness sakes! And if she had been a bit unruly earlier, well, her mother had just died, wasn't that to be expected?
Frieda decided to talk to Greta when she woke up, to ensure that sending Layla away would really be the best thing. She tried not to tear up when Layla moved forward to take her Great Aunt's hand. Looking at the boy who had entered with her, Frieda was briefly startled to see him watching her intently. Then he looked at Layla, and his entire demeanour changed, his expression softening, like a raging fire cooling down to an ember. (Now, wasn't that an odd thought to have about a person?) Of course, he didn't look like the most pleasant boy, but Greta hadn't always been the best looking person herself. Why, before her makeover, she'd looked positively plain!
Layla glanced back to Warren when she took her Great Aunt's hand. He'd realised what her look meant in a moment; she'd been the one to cause this, and she could take it away, but not in front of her Great Aunt's friend. Warren gave an imperceptible nod, and turned to Frieda, giving her his most charming smile.
(Well, that smile certainly changed things, Frieda thought with a blush.)
"Would you like to get some fresh air with me, Mrs. Olgestein? I'm sure you've done nothing but worry over Layla's Great Aunt all this time, and neglecting yourself in the process," Warren said, offering his arm to her.
She took it with a soft giggle, agreeing that yes, she had been neglecting herself to look after her friend. They were gone in a moment, the door closing behind them with a click. Layla made a mental note to repay Warren in some way later.
Turning back to her Great Aunt, she seriously considered not doing anything. The doctors had no idea what sort of poison it was, and they couldn't treat her in time to save her. She would never be suspected. But... But Layla was still only 16 years old, and her Great Aunt was her only living relative. If her Great Aunt died before Layla was legally recognised as an adult, then she'd be put under the care of the government, which never boded well for those with superpowers. With no parents to look after them, orphaned supers were often taken away and never seen again. Some claimed that the government were training them to be soldiers, others said that they were experimented on. No matter what people thought, they all agreed that whatever happened to the orphaned children, it was not good.
With a sigh, Layla closed her eyes and rested her hand on her Great Aunt's once more. There was a whisper beneath her skin, a recognition of her power. Slowly, pushing away all thoughts of being slapped, weed killer, and boarding school, Layla began to pull on the poison that was within her Great Aunt's body. The poison resisted at first - it had been created with those thoughts in mind and those few minutes of emotion were stronger than her current desire to help her relative - but Layla had been the one to create it, and as such, she had the power to control and remove it. The poison slipped away from her Great Aunt, crawling down her neck and chest, back down her arms and into her hands until it was completely gone. The same poison had prevented the gouges from closing, and now that it was no longer in her body, the blood stopped oozing from her legs.
Layla pulled away with a soft gasp, her eyes bright green. She hurried to make a small bunch of flowers, changing the poison into something harmless and entirely different from it's original form. The flowers wouldn't last as long as hers normally did, but Layla thought it was a small price to pay.
On the hospital bed, her Great Aunt opened her eyes briefly, now feeling heavily medicated from the sedatives and other medication the doctors had given her. She blinked slowly, seeing Layla's red hair beside her, frowning slightly when she saw a green glow from where her eyes should be. Then the door opened, and when she looked back to Layla a moment later, her eyes were brown once more.
"I hope you'll remember this when you wake up," Layla murmured. "I will not be going to that boarding school," she said, softly but firmly.
The doctor stepped forward when she saw Layla had finished talking to her Great Aunt, and gave the young girl a smile, pleased to see that she was taking such care with her relative.
"It seems that the medication is working," she said, seeing that the rash had disappeared completely. "I'll just change your Great Aunt's bandages now. Would you like to help?"
"Oh, I'm not good with blood, sorry. I might come back later," Layla said. She squeezed her Great Aunt's hand briefly, standing and leaving.
"You're lucky to have such a caring niece," the doctor murmured as she unwrapped Greta's bandages.
Greta managed a drowsy nod before slipping back into the darkness.
Not wanting to go to the waiting room, Layla headed further down the corridor. She frowned slightly on hearing Frieda's voice, and noticed a side exit into a small garden.
"Oh, there you are. We were just about to go in to find you, weren't we, cutie?" Frieda asked Warren, squeezing his arm as she smiled up at him.
Layla's lips twitched slightly at the nickname, and she knew that whatever she did to repay him would have to make up for that as well.
"The doctor's just gone in to see my Great Aunt. I thought you'd want to hear how she's going for yourself," she said, gently guiding Frieda to the door.
"Oh, yes, of course. I'm sure the doctor will want to talk to me since I came in with Greta," she murmured, disappointed at the loss of Warren's warmth beside her.
As she stepped into the hospital once more, Frieda straightened her shoulders and headed down to Greta's room with determination.
"You owe me big, hippie," Warren growled.
"Believe me, I know," she said, raising her eyebrows slightly. "Thank you," Layla added, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek.
Surprised at her action, he just stood there dumbly for a moment. "You're welcome," he murmured finally. "I found something I think you'll like," Warren said, taking her hand and leading her towards the back of the garden.
The centre of the garden had a large fountain, ironically named the Fountain of Youth, and it encompassed the entire view when standing in front of it. At the back of the garden, hidden within the privacy of the fountain, stood a garden gazebo, roses climbing the lattice walls and a grape vine circling the edge of the roof.
"It's beautiful," Layla murmured, stepping forward to touch the roses softly.
They seemed to shake out beneath her fingers, making themselves stand out, their colours becoming that bit more vibrant, just for Layla's touch. Warren couldn't blame them for it, really. He followed her, watching as she took a seat within the gazebo, lying back on the cushion. She looked over at him, grinning slightly as the grapes ripened above him. (In the imaginary house in Warren's mind, a gazebo was immediately added to the back yard, adjoining the garden, of course.)
"How'd it go with your Great Aunt?" he asked after picking a bunch of grapes and sitting beside her.
"Well, she's alive and no longer poisoned," Layla replied.
Before he could answer, she took one of the grapes off the small vine, pressing it to his lips. He opened his mouth almost automatically, watching her as he let her place the fruit in his mouth. Warren closed his mouth a moment too soon, her fingertips caught in his lips. He grinned to himself when Layla's cheeks went red, and let his tongue flick against her fingertips gently, letting go a moment later.
"Nice grapes," he said, resting back on the seat. "Mrs. Woo would kill for fruit this fresh," he added, grinning. "Oh, shit. Mrs. Woo," Warren hissed, realising that he was meant to be at work at 4pm.
He checked his watch, biting back another curse when he saw that it was already past 3pm.
"It's all right; we'll just leave now and get Ethan's mum to drop you off at the Paper Lantern," Layla said, standing quickly.
Taking his hand, she put the grapes back on the vine, and lead him to the door to go back into the hospital.
"Oh, there you are! Layla, come inside. Your Great Aunt is awake and asking for you," Frieda called before they could go past the room. "You too, Warren," she said, smiling at him.
"Go... Get Ethan's mother to take you to work. I'll catch a bus to my Great Aunt's house," Layla muttered, letting go of his hand before Frieda pulled them both inside. "Sorry, Mrs. Olgestein, but Warren's got to leave, or he'll be late for work. You said my Great Aunt was asking for me?" she said, guiding her into the room before she could protest Warren's departure.
He continued down the corridor, almost skidding when he entered the waiting room. Ethan's mother looked suitably worried, and Ethan and Zach looked up from a video playing on the former boy's phone.
"I'm really sorry, but I've got to get to work, would you mind taking me, please?" Warren asked in a rush, charming Ethan's mother with a smile and manners.
"Oh, of course. But what about Layla? How is her Great Aunt?" she asked, even as she stood to leave.
"Layla's going to catch a bus. Her Great Aunt's doing better; it looks like the poison's almost out of her system," he replied.
Ethan and Zach hurried to follow the other two out before they were left behind.
"Dude, do you really think it's okay to let Layla catch a bus back? I mean, it's Westville," Zach muttered.
"She'll be fine; Westville's like an entire town for retired rich people," Warren replied, but Zach could see the swirl of smoke that left his clenched fist.
"That's why it has such a high crime rate," Ethan piped up. "People get attacked for their jewellery, handbags, all sorts of stuff... But Layla will be fine," he added quickly, alarmed at the low growl that came from the back seat.
Warren took his phone out of his pocket, sending a text to Layla, instructing her to come to the Paper Lantern so he could take her to her Great Aunt's after work.
In the hospital, where her Great Aunt had fallen asleep once more (she hadn't said a thing to her, simply looking at her face as intently as her drug-filled system would allow), Layla was immediately chastised for having her phone on. She hurried to say how she'd forgotten to turn it off in her worry, and left to check the message and answer the text. Behind her, the doctor and Frieda both agreed how lucky Greta was to have such a doting niece.
Outside in the garden, Layla read the text with a slight frown. She wasn't fond of taking orders from anyone, and now wasn't any different. Replying that she'd be fine and could take care of herself, Layla wasn't overly surprised to receive a crisp message in return, telling her to just do what he asked so he wouldn't worry. Sighing, Layla agreed to go to the Paper Lantern, figuring she could do at least that much for him after being called cutie by Mrs. Olgestein.
Going back into the hospital and down to her Great Aunt's room, the doctor leaving for another patient, she was told that her Great Aunt would be required to stay at the hospital until the poison in her system was cleared, but everything seemed to be getting better. Frieda had already left to get a change of clothes for Greta. Layla was welcome to stay, but her Great Aunt had just been given another dose of medication that would keep her knocked her for a while.
Thanking the doctor, Layla went into the room to get her bag, only to realise that she'd left it in the car. As her purse was in her bag, she had no way of catching the bus back to Maxville. Sighing, Layla looked at her Great Aunt, thinking of the boarding school again. Shaking her head, she left the room before she hurt a defenceless woman. Feeling her phone vibrating in her pocket, Layla to answer the call when she saw it was Ethan.
"Hey Layla. We've just found your bag in the car. Do you want my mum to come back to pick you up?" Ethan offered.
"Would she mind? I don't want to inconvenience her, but I can't stay here overnight, and since my purse is in my bag, I have no way of paying for a bus or taxi."
There was a moment of silence, and she heard the phone exchanging hands.
"We're coming back, hippie. Stay where you are. No arguments," Warren said firmly, ending the call abruptly.
Layla frowned at her phone, but quickly pocketed it when a nurse walked past with a glare at the offending piece of technology. Not feeling comfortable standing in the corridor, and not wanting to risk returning to her Great Aunt's room, Layla went to sit at the front of the hospital.
Ten minutes later, Ethan's mother pulled the car over in the emergency standing, allowing Layla enough time to get in the back seat. She'd barely put her seat belt on before the car pulled out suddenly.
"Sorry, kids! Hold on!"
Layla gripped Warren's hand tightly, and on the other side of Warren, Zach had his eyes screwed up, holding onto the handhold above the door for dear life.
In thirty terrifying minutes' time, Warren arrived at the Paper Lantern for his shift with only minutes to spare. Layla got out of the car - ensuring to grab her bag this time - and let Warren out, waving goodbye to Ethan and Zach, the latter of whom simply whimpered a farewell, his face pale and his hand still wrapped around the handle tightly.
"You still coming over tonight?" Warren asked, glancing at the restaurant to see if Mrs. Woo was watching the window like she usually did. He saw the curtains move, and a small face disappear from the glass pane.
"No. I'm going back to my Great Aunt's house. I figure if I unpack everything, then she might think it's too much trouble to send me off to boarding school."
"Well, if it doesn't work, let me know. We'll work something out," Warren said, grinning.
She nodded, grinning slightly in return. Layla frowned when she saw Mrs. Woo at the window. "I think you'd better get inside. Mrs. Woo looks about ready to break the glass," she murmured. "I'll text you when I get to the house."
"Make sure you do," he replied, squeezing her hand gently and heading into the restaurant quickly.
Mrs. Woo's face disappeared, and Layla had no doubt that the small woman had gone to the kitchen to interrogate Warren. Shaking her head briefly, she headed down the road to the bus stop.
Staying on the opposite side of the road to the old house, so she couldn't tempt herself to stand in front of it for hours, rebuilding and renovating the structure in her head, Layla simply glanced at it as she passed. As she sat at the bus stop, the Stronghold Real Estate advertised on the seat she was resting on, Layla wondered how much the house cost, but already knew that she couldn't ring Mrs. Stronghold and simply ask.
Mrs. Stronghold was a very inquisitive and sharp-minded woman, who had probably noticed that Layla's absence from the Stronghold residence had nothing to with distance. She doubted that Will had told his mother that they'd broken up, simply for the same reason; Josie would immediately ask why, and Will had never been able to tell a lie convincingly. Avoiding confrontation unless others were around, pretending to have powers for years, all it involved was a small amount of acting. Doing that was easy, especially where his father was concerned, and his mother could be distracted if he acted childishly and she could coddle him as she'd done when he was younger. But the great and powerful Will Stronghold couldn't look his mother in the eye and tell her that he'd cheated on Layla with Magenta. That might result in his Xbox being taken away from him, after all...
Realising that the blades of grass around the bus stop had started to turn into sharp thin needles, Layla hurried to calm herself down, counting as high as she could in her head until the bus arrived ten minutes later.
Mrs. Stronghold might have been a very smart woman, but Mr. Stronghold... Well, he wasn't the smartest man on the planet, not by far.
...
"What was that call about, Steve?" Josie asked, frowning at her husband briefly.
He knew she didn't like it when he took calls before dinner. They were meant to be the best family the world had ever seen, and how could they be that if he was always on the phone? (Of course, the rule didn't apply to her if her phone rang before dinner. She could multitask; Steve definitely couldn't.)
"Someone asking for the price of the old house on Sycamore Street," he replied, frowning as he patted his pockets, trying to find his glasses.
The Mayor was arriving with his wife soon, and he had to protect some aspect of his secret identity, even if the Mayor knew where he lived.
"That old thing? I thought we'd taken that off the listing years ago?"
"Apparently one of the signs is still at the front. Must've been an old one if they had my number," he added, now searching the table for his elusive glasses.
"Maybe I should take the sign down," Josie murmured, turning to stir the pot on the stove. "Did they sound very interested?"
"In what?"
"The house."
"I've told you already, it's as clean as it's going to get," Steve muttered distractedly, still unable to find his glasses.
"Steve, I'm talking about the phone call! Did the person sound interested about the house on Sycamore? Do you think they'll buy it?"
"Oh. They sounded curious enough, I suppose. Didn't say much after I told them the price... It was $210, wasn't it?"
"No, that price was years ago. The market's gone up since then. Dear Lord, Steve, are you trying to make us lose the Realtor Sales Award?" Josie asked, sighing.
Turning to see her husband upturning everything she'd just cleaned, Josie glared briefly, and stalked over to him. Steve quickly replaced the placemat, trying not to look guilty, and failing miserably under his wife's glare. Josie reached up and took his glasses off his head, holding them out to him, her lips pursed and her eyebrow raised.
"Ah, thank you, dear," he said, kissing her gently.
"Oh, gross. Could you not do that in the kitchen?" Will groaned, banging his head on the doorframe.
He pulled away sharply when the doorframe creaked in protest, his eyes widening when he saw the dent in the wood.
"I hope you're going upstairs to get changed, Will," Josie said sternly, glancing at the dent with a frown before heading back over to the stove.
He flew upstairs (literally, Josie was fairly sure) before he could get into trouble.
"So, who was the person that rang? Can you ring them back to give them a modified price on the house on Sycamore?" Josie asked, stirring the stew and adjusting the temperature on the stove.
"I didn't exactly get a phone number," Steve admitted hesitantly. "Or their name. It was some foreign name that I couldn't pronounce," he added quickly when Josie just stared at him.
"We've gone over this, Steve! If you can't say the client's name, you give the phone to me," she said, sighing heavily.
"I know, dear. The person just seemed very insistent about getting a price at that moment, and you were busy cooking," he said in his defence.
"Well, check your phone for the last received number, and I'll return the call with the appropriate price."
Steve hurried to do so, his grateful feeling fading when he saw that the person had a silent number. Watching as his face fell, Josie sighed, taking the phone from him, her jaw tight when she discovered the same thing.
"I hope you realise that you've just lost us a sale of more than $200,000, Steve."
The doorbell rang, stopping any response he might have made. Josie glared at him as she passed, smiling brightly by the time she opened the front door to welcome the Mayor and his wife.
...
Layla placed the final ornament on the small shelf above her computer, looking around the room. Her suitcase had been unpacked and clothes put away in the wardrobe; books shelved on the bookcase she'd brought from her mother's house; her plants had been removed from the kitchen and placed in the appropriate areas around the room, and; the last of her ornaments and knick-knacks were on display.
It didn't make the room feel more like her own in the slightest, but if she could pretend that it did, then maybe her Great Aunt would have second thoughts about sending her to boarding school. Not that Layla would go even if she did try to send her there. She'd rather live on the streets than attend an awful school that churned out carbon copies of what they believed to be suitable heroes. Shuddering at the thought, Layla headed down to the kitchen to make something for dinner.
As she ate her pasta and vegetables, Layla thought over the phone conversation she'd had earlier with Mr. Stronghold about the house on Sycamore. The price was more than she'd expected, and he'd sounded hesitant about it, stating that he'd have to double-check with his wife, who knew more about the house than he did. Over the years of seeing their alter egos at work, Layla knew that that was code for the fact that he didn't remember the finer details of the house, including it's price, and even if he did remember later, he couldn't pronounce her name to call her back. A foreign accent, her voice muffled to sound deeper, and Steve was tripping over himself to get off the phone as fast as superhumanly possible.
Sighing to herself, Layla knew that she shouldn't have done this to herself. There was no way her inheritance covered the amount of money needed to buy the house, and even if she worked at the Mayor's office every day until she could get her inheritance, she still wouldn't earn enough money to make up the difference. The bank wouldn't give her a loan while she was still a teenager, and there was no way she was going to ask her Great Aunt for money.
Thinking that her phone was vibrating in her pocket, Layla went to pull it out. She frowned slightly when her fingers wrapped around a piece of paper rather than her phone, and realised that her phone was sitting beside her plate anyway. Taking out the piece of paper, Layla smiled when she saw that it was a fortune. By the yellowing of the paper, it was obvious that it was one from months ago, yet it had somehow survived the washing machine. Her smile faded as she realised that the numbers on the back were the same five that had been on her past two fortunes.
You are only as old as you feel inside. Those who feel old will appear old to those around them, and those who feel young will never age.
Layla carefully placed the fortune beside her phone, an idea starting to form in her mind.
...
End of the eleventh chapter.
Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it.
