Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High.

The Heavens and Earth rose out of Chaos.
John Milton - A Paradise Lost

Read on, oh faithful ones.

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Chapter Thirteen

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"When's your Great Aunt meant to be getting out of hospital?" Warren asked Layla as they made their way up the street.

"Tomorrow afternoon. Mrs. Olgestein's offered to pick her up and look after her here until I get home from school," Layla replied. "There's no poison left in her system, but it made her body weak, and the doctor wanted to keep her in for observation."

"Has she been lucid enough to talk about the boarding school?"

"Not really; she's been kept fairly drugged up. I'm just hoping she'll forget about it entirely," Layla muttered.

"What if she doesn't?" Warren asked, waiting as Layla opened the front door.

"Then I'll think of something else. I refuse to go to a boarding school, no matter if she's my legal guardian or not."

"Well, if you need, I've still got that lumpy and uncomfortable lounge on offer," he said with a grin, following her into the house and closing the door behind him.

"I'd prefer your bed," Layla replied, stopping short when she realised the innuendo. "Sorry, I meant... It's just that... I mean... After Will and Magenta today... I didn't..."

"Hey, calm down, hippie. I know what you meant," he said soothingly. "And really, after their display at lunch, I'm surprised you were able to sit beside me on the bus," Warren said, chuckling briefly.

"Oh yeah, that took a lot of willpower," she said drily.

"Good to know," he replied, raising his eyebrow slightly. His gaze travelled down her body, landing on the burn mark that was still around her wrist. "Will you let me heal that now?"

"Only if you'll let me heal yours."

Warren didn't bother bringing up the fact that he was only refusing because she'd refused in the first place, and nodded in reply.

"Leave a scar, would you? That way we'll always know and won't have to go through it again," he muttered.

"That's what I was trying to do with mine," Layla agreed, her fingers touching his wrist gently. "I can't make this scar though; it's not deep enough to cause any permanent damage to your skin," she said with a slight frown.

"Let me check yours," Warren said, taking her offered wrist carefully.

A small pulse of power told him that the burn was only a layer deep. It would have to go much further to mark her indefinitely.

"This one's not enough either," he said, shaking his head.

Layla looked up at him for a moment, silently asking if he would burn and mark her. Warren looked away from her pleading gaze, glancing at the small holes around his wrist.

"Are you sure you want to do this? I won't be able to reverse it. You'll always have the scarred skin, and believe me, it won't be the prettiest thing to look at," he said, looking back at her.

"I don't care about it being pretty, Warren. I want this; I want you to do this to me," Layla said firmly.

"Why?"

"Because the world isn't fair. It isn't pretty; it's an ugly place that causes people pain, and I don't want to ever forget that."

He couldn't tell her that she was being irrational, or that she was still too emotional over her mother's death. She was right - the world wasn't a fair or pretty place - but Warren still didn't think that this was the best reminder for it.

"Please, Warren. I know it will hurt, but I don't care. I want to have the scar to match what I feel inside. Trust me, the feeling will never fade, and neither will the scar. Please," Layla begged.

He didn't reply for another three minutes, time simply ticking by as he thought of exactly how bad this would be. Then he began to think how good it could be. It was more than twisted, even Warren knew that, but he would always know that he was talking to Layla, no matter who attempted to turn into her, and she would be marked by him; forever marked as his, some primeval and territorial part of his brain thought. And he'd be marked by her, forever hers, the thought giving him more pleasure than he imagined it would.

"We'll do it at the same time. I don't want to hurt you so bad that you can't retaliate," he said with a heavy sigh.

Layla agreed, nodding sombrely and holding out her wrist.

"Do we really have to do it in the foyer, hippie? We're right by the front door," Warren muttered.

"We can do it upstairs in the bedroom. I'll make sure vines block out the noise," she added, leading him up the staircase.

He was not turned on by her words, he was not turned on by her words. Oh, god. He was so definitely turned on by her words. Warren briefly wondered when it was that he'd stopped caring that she turned him on.

Layla closed the door behind him, and in moments, they were plunged into relative darkness, the vines covering the windowpane. For an added measure, she also closed the blinds. Layla held her left wrist out, patiently waiting for Warren to take it before holding his offered left wrist as well.

"Ready?" she asked quietly.

Warren nodded in response. A spike-covered vine trailed its way down her arm and wrapped around his wrist gently. His fist lit up in flames, the fire moving across their clasped hands to wrap around Layla's wrist harmlessly.

"One... Two... Three," they counted together slowly.

All at once, her wrist started to burn like it had never done before. His wrist was pierced by what felt like hundreds of thorns and tiny spikes. The fire blistered her skin, the flames making their way deeper through each layer. The spikes tore through layers of skin, piercing bloody holes into his wrist. They were both screaming in pain, had fallen to their knees as the pain overwhelmed them, and still it continued. The fire didn't seem inclined to stop, burning deeper and deeper until Layla was sure it had reached her bone itself. The thorns and spikes grew longer and sharper, and Warren could have sworn that they pierced through his bone. Her arm began to burn, the very skeletal bone on fire. His arm started to go limp, his skeleton weakened from the holes that had pierced it.

Slowly, their power began to fade from each other. The burning sensation in her arm began to lessen, and the strength in his began to return to normal. It was over in what felt like seconds, but could have been hours. Layla realised that she'd stopped screaming, and Warren blinked, his throat feeling scratchy.

"Are you okay?" he rasped, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah, you?" she asked, her voice not sounding much better.

Warren managed to nod in return, and they slowly let go of each other's wrist to see what they'd done. Rather than the scarred and burnt skin she'd expected, Layla had a perfect line of red flames wrapping around her wrist. Warren had been expecting hundreds of holes or something that would require bandaging, but around his wrist was a perfect circle of vines, thorns decorating the green line. There was no blood on either one, and as they flexed their wrists gently, they both realised that there was no pain either. It was as if they'd simply tattooed one another with their powers.

...

Layla stood up first, leaving to get water for them both. Warren sank back on his haunches, looking at the neat vine tattooed around his wrist again. His cuff would cover it easily, and only they would know it was there. Layla returned a moment later with two large glasses of water, they drank slowly, keeping their eyes on each other.

"So, do you really think Craig's going to follow through on playing those lotto numbers?" Warren asked, standing as his legs began to cramp.

"I'll make sure he doesn't back out. I'm giving him my money and going along as his daughter so he can pretend to be forgetful and I can tell him the numbers at the last minute. I'm not giving him those numbers and having him win."

"Two things, hippie. First, don't get your hopes up on this; it isn't guaranteed that you'll actually win anything. Second, you realise that I probably could have played the numbers if I just didn't shave for a couple of days?"

"You shave?"

"Since freshman year," he replied with a nod.

"Two whole years, you must be so proud," Layla dead panned.

Warren just raised an eyebrow at her, finishing the last of his water and setting the glass down on the desk.

"I mean it, hippie. Don't set yourself up for disappointment with this. You might not win a thing."

"You mean that we might not win a thing," she replied.

"What?" Warren asked in confusion; he didn't remember anything about wasting his hard-earned money being part of the plan.

"I'm not going to set myself up for disappointment. I'm just going to get Craig to play it this one time, and then we're waiting for our 18th birthdays. You put in a ticket on your birthday, and I'll put one in on mine. If we don't win anything on any three tries, then I won't bring it up again," Layla said seriously.

Warren frowned slightly, waiting for the catch.

"Deal?" she asked, holding her hand out.

"That's it? Three tries and you'll forget about it?" he asked with a frown.

"Yes..."

Warren held her hand, shaking it, and as she grinned at him, he had a feeling of being played.

"However, if we win anything on any of them, then it's a different matter," Layla said, grinning. "Then, we play every single birthday until gambling is outlawed," she added, shaking his hand in return.

"God damn it, Layla. Do you know how much revenue gambling brings in every year? It's never going to be outlawed," Warren groaned.

She grinned at his expression, her eyes alight with laughter. Muttering to himself, he moved to sit on the chair.

"Didn't you say you had an essay you wanted me to read over?" he asked reluctantly, trying not to think about what he'd just agreed to.

Nodding, Layla rummaged in her bag to find her notebook. Taking the offered book from her, Warren flipped through the pages to find her essay.

"Is this the hero worship one?" he asked, stopping at a page near the middle. "Never mind," he added, seeing the words I love heroes written at the top.

Layla reached over him to turn her computer on. Ethan had promised to email her the videos of her and Warren's Save the Citizen games when he got home, and he was always punctual.

"What're you doing?" Warren asked, distracted by the sweet honeysuckle and earthy vine smell of her body being so close to his.

He refused to look up from the essay, sure that he'd back her against the closest surface to see if she tasted as good as she smelled.

"Ethan's sending me the videos of our Save the Citizen fights; I thought we could watch them together and take notes for next time," Layla said with a grin, unaware of the path his thoughts were leading him down.

"Are you going to get another chair then?" he asked, still not looking up.

"Nah, we can just sit on the bed. The screen's big enough," Layla said with a shrug.

Now Warren did look up. He looked at her, trying to see if she was serious or not. Realising that she was serious, he turned his attention back to the notebook, trying to think of everything other than making out with her. His hands were close to flaming out of control.

"Do you want to get comfortable while I get the videos ready?" she offered.

Nodding briefly, he stood up off the chair, moving past her carefully so they wouldn't touch, and sat on the edge of her mattress precariously. Layla quickly opened her browser, downloaded the videos from Ethan, and set them up to play. When she was sure the volume was loud enough for them to hear properly, she sat on next to Warren on her bed, moving back so she was comfortable. She frowned slightly when she saw just how straight and on edge Warren looked. It was such a contrast to how he usually sat.

"You can move back, you know," Layla said.

He shook his head slightly, keeping his eyes on the screen. Her frown lessened as she too, turned her attention to the video. As the videos continued, and they played for the second, fourth, sixth times, Warren began to relax and move onto the bed properly. Eventually, they were sitting side by side, their bodies touching as they laughed and talked over the scenes.

"He definitely got too close to you there, hippie! If he'd got any closer, he could have had a hand around your throat instantly!" Warren was saying of the fake-Warren.

"He was pretending to be you; you wouldn't have choked me," Layla countered. "Besides, I saw that he didn't have the vine mark on his wrist," she added, taking his hand, her fingers caressing his wrist.

Beneath her fingertips, the vine started to spin, growing thicker at her touch. Distracted from the video, they both watched the vine moving around his wrist. Curious, Warren reached out to touch hers, and the flames began to circle around her wrist, the fire becoming wild beneath his fingers.

"Warren?" Layla murmured, looking at him intently.

Tearing his gaze away from the spinning flames, he looked up at her, their faces only inches apart. She kissed him, her lips soft against his, her hand wrapped around his wrist as she leaned against him. He kissed her back, his mouth responding before his mind caught up. Warren pulled away moments later, his lips hot and tingling. Layla licked her lips, smiling.

"I thought you said you didn't want to? I mean, after Stronghold and Magenta today," he muttered, knowing that he'd probably regret his words.

"I know," she agreed with a sigh, sitting up properly. "You saw everyone whispering about them at lunch, and I just don't want to do that. Not only that, but I really don't want you to be a rebound or something. Does that sound stupid? And you just broke up with Freeze Girl, do you know what I mean?" Layla asked, knowing that she was probably rambling.

Warren was right: he regretted his words.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. It doesn't sound stupid. You want to wait until we're both ready," he reiterated.

He really should have just kept kissing her, never mind his conscience.

"Yes, that's exactly right," she said with a relieved smile. "Hopefully it won't be too long," Layla muttered.

Warren chuckled, pulling her down for one more kiss before stopping again.

"So how was my essay? Enough hero worship for me to fail miserably?" Layla asked with a grin, sitting up.

"If you don't fail, I have no faith in the teachers at Sky High. You'll probably get some sort of Failure Award for that piece of work," Warren said, grinning in return.

"Did you fail?"

"Spectacularly. Wasn't too hard, considering I got an article about my father's capture. Although, it was somewhat difficult to muster up the required fanfare for the Commander. I got the assignment the same day I had that fight with Stronghold; I wasn't exactly at my peak of emotional strength at that time. I think they realised I was bullshitting when I attempted to kill Stronghold in the cafeteria," he added with a grin.

"I'm sure that didn't help," she agreed. "But really, there are a lot of second generation supers who wouldn't mind attempting the same thing. The Commander and Jetstream don't always make friends with people they meet," Layla said.

Warren scoffed in disbelief. "All right, then. Name five second-gen supers who'd take a stab at Stronghold."

"I can name eleven," she retorted. "Zach, Royal Pain, Lash, Speed, you, me, and the five Penny's."

"She only counts as one," he said immediately. "I'm not fond of you grouping us in with that lot, anyway. I doubt Zach would like it either."

"Well, they're all second generation," she said with a shrug.

"All right then, who currently enrolled at Sky High would try to hurt Stronghold, and why? Besides us and Zach," Warren added.

"Ben Armstrong, he's the boy with six arms we fought against. His father worked at the bank and was severely injured when the Commander broke in through the bank's roof to stop a robbery. He almost brought the building down, injured twelve different people, but since he caught the robbers, there was no retribution. Armstrong's father was paid out due to his spinal injury, and now does seasonal work as a tax consultant, while his mother works three jobs to pay the bills and send him to school.

"Wendy Walker manipulates the weather, and was friends with Gwen Grayson. Her mother was a very successful super until Jetstream and the Commander teamed up, and I'm sure she'd love to take a swing at the guy who reduced her pocket money from two hundred dollars a month to fifty. For someone who can manipulate the weather, she's a very shallow person," Layla commented, shaking her head briefly.

"How do you know all that about Wendy? Isn't she a senior?"

"Girls talk for a ridiculous amount of time in the bathroom."

He conceded with a nod. From the screen, a loud explosion sounded, distracting them. It seemed Layla's trees ripping up the gym floor were noisier than expected.

"You'll tell me when Craig does the lotto numbers, yeah?" Warren asked as they both turned their attention back to the video.

"Yeah, I'll let you know... For the next Save the Citizen game, we should work on using our powers at the same time against both opponents, rather than one on one. We know we can defeat them individually, but what about together?"

"I think we'd be unstoppable then," Warren said with a grin, his hand resting in hers gently.

She laughed against his shoulder, squeezing his hand and looking at the screen once more.

...

"Warren? Are you okay?"

Blinking his sleep away, Warren sat up, slowly disentangling himself from Layla, who had fallen asleep against his shoulder. His ringing phone had woken him up, and he'd answered simply to make the noise stop.

"Hi Mum. I'm fine," he whispered.

"Why are you whispering? Have you been kidnapped? What do you remember about the journey?"

"I'm whispering because Layla's asleep. I haven't been kidnapped, Mum," Warren said with a sigh.

"You're with Layla? And you're afraid of waking her up because? Are you two having sex? You're being safe, right?"

"Mum!" he hissed, his eyes closing as he wished for some way to erase this particular conversation with his mother. "I don't want to wake her because she's sleeping and it's almost midnight. She just broke up with Stronghold, so no, we're not having sex."

"And that's the only reason?" his mother sounded amused, even through the phone.

"I'm hanging up now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"So you're staying there then?"

Warren felt the phone be taken from him, and turned quickly to see Layla there, holding her finger up to keep him silent.

"Hello, Ms. Peace? Yes, I'm sorry about keeping Warren so late; we lost track of the time... Of course, definitely. Next time, I'll make sure to get Warren to call you. Yes, thank you, good night," she said, grinning at him briefly. "Say goodnight to your mother while I set up the lounge."

Taking the phone from her, Warren was surprised to find that his mother wasn't as angry as he'd thought she would be.

"Just remember: next time, call me. If you don't, then I will call the Mayor himself to have someone find you. You live under my roof, you tell me when you're not going to be home, understood?"

"Yes, Mum. Sorry, I'll make sure to call next time. Good night," Warren said quickly, hanging up after she returned the sentiment.

Making his way to the upstairs lounge room, he grinned slightly when he saw Layla asleep on the lounge, the sheets beside her.

"Hey, hippie. Come on, get to bed. I can manage a sheet by myself," he said with a grin, rousing her and helping her to stand.

She yawned but nodded in response, kissing his cheek. "Goodnight, Warren," Layla said sleepily over her shoulder as she left, dragging her feet.

Shaking his head, Warren turned and shook out a sheet to cover the lounge. Shucking off his pants, he pulled his shirt over his head. Lying down on the lounge, he shifted a few times before deeming himself comfortable. Warren fell asleep quicker than he thought he would, his cheek still tingling from Layla's light kiss.

...

End of the thirteenth chapter.

Thank you for reading; I hope you liked it!