Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.

Chapter Two-Never Let It Go

For the rest of the day I came up with plans, strategies on how we all could get the project done without killing one another, but each idea was feebler than the last. Paul jokingly said I looked as if I were trying to lay an egg as I screwed up my face in concentration during Hero Arts. Mrs. Julie our teacher was currently demonstrating how to make an effective dramatic entrance, as do all great heroes.

"We're going to have to make the best of it you know," I told him, as we got on the school bus that afternoon.

"It's not right, Anna. How could Mr. Mnemonic do this? I mean Warren- of all people?" Paul said, fuming.

"Well he did it. No use crying over it now."

"Who's crying?" Paul said, punching me playfully on the arm. But he still looked upset. "I swear though, if he thinks he going to-"

"Now Paul, don't you start anything." I said warningly. "I need to get a good grade on this project. I can't afford to score anything less than an A."

Paul frowned. "Why do you assume I'm going to do something?"

"You always do," I said calmly as we rose into the air.

He made a scornful noise. "Well can you blame me?" he lowered his voice. "You know what that lowlife's father did to Uncle Charles."

"Paul that was years ago," I said softly, staring straight ahead.

"It doesn't-!" Paul snapped then stopped, taking a moment to compose himself before saying in a controlled voice, "It doesn't matter, Anna. How can you be so cold about this?"

"I'm not," I said earnestly, surprised at his sudden outburst. "It's just that...you're more bitter about this than even Dad is. It's part of the job. It happens."

"If it wasn't for Warren's psycho father, Uncle Charles would still be active- he'd still be keeping Maxville safe and saving the world-"

"You don't know that," I said reasonably. "You heard what Dad said. He wanted to retire anyway."

"Oh, Anna... he tells you that, but I've seen him in action. Helping people, fighting crime. He loved it." His face filled with resentment. "He was a good Hero but he could have been great, you know? I mean really great. He had the potential to be just as good as the Commander. Better, even."

I sighed, remembering how wonderful he looked, swooping in to save the day on the six 'o clock news. "I know. But frankly..."

"What?" Paul looked at me closely, as if daring me to say the wrong thing.

I hesitated, wondering if I should tell Paul how I really felt about it. My cousin always had such high expectations for our family. His parents didn't have any super powers and his greatest desire was for my father to be not only his absolute best, but the absolute best- to be internationally renowned and the stepping stone for a family from which super hero legends emerged. As expected, he was often disappointed. My thoughts wandering, I remembered when my father was defeated by Barron Battle... Paul's biggest disappointment of all.

I was only ten when it happened. Paul was eleven. We came to my house after school and found my mother in tears with various relatives sitting around her, comforting her as best they could.

The ordeal was a horrible blur: Paul and I asking a million questions; relatives swarming around, trying to help but only getting in the way; my Aunt Nia and Uncle Matthew, Paul's parents, flipping television channels frantically, trying to discover what had become of Barron Battle and whether he was still at large.

xxxxxx

"Is Dad gonna be okay?" I whispered to my mother as she opened the door and came outside of the bedroom. Doctor Fort, the local physician for the heroes of Maxville emerged soon after. He looked very tired.

"He's going to be okay, honey," my mother said softly, wiping tears and trying to smile reassuringly. "But...oh Anna, he won't be able to-"

"Would you two like to see him now?" Doctor Fort cut in. He glanced at my mother and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"Okay," Paul and I said together.

My father was lying in bed, his eyes closed. His torso was wrapped tightly in bandages as was his right leg. He had cuts and bruises on his face, and on his arms. On a chair, in the corner of the room, lay the tattered remnants of his black and silver costume. Next to it a shining silver shield stood gleaming unnaturally brightly.

I turned back to my father who lay sleeping. Paul had gone on the other side of the bed with an unreadable expression. We said nothing for some time as we looked down at him. My mother had always told me that I looked a lot like my father. I saw it then: tall, thick black hair, brown eyes, firm set mouth and a solid frame. Paul was tall too and he already had a larger than average build for his age. But the similarities ended there. His brown hair, deep black eyes, and dry voice, which made nearly everything he said sound sarcastic, was inherited from Aunt Nia.

Dad had always seemed so untouchable, so strong. Seeing him lying there so helplessly shocked me in a way I never thought possible. I began to cry.

"Shhh!" Paul said urgently, but Dad opened his eyes and looked kindly at us.

"Hey you," he said, his words sounding a little slurred.

"Dad?" I said timidly, afraid to get too close to him.

"I'm all right Annie. Come here you two."

Trembling, I went to his side. Looking closer I saw that he had a nasty looking row of stitches on the side of his head, near his hairline. I choked back tears.

"Daddy," was all I could say before my voice failed me.

"It's okay Anna. He's going to be all right. And as soon as he's better, he's gonna get that Barron Battle and make him pay- aren't you, Uncle Charles?"

My father gave him a pained look. "I'm okay, Paul. I'll be fine. But there's something you two should know."

"What, Dad?"

"I think...I think I'm going to call it a day, you guys. Protecting Maxville was an honor... a real adventure. But it's time for me to step down. Hang up my... shield, you could say." He chuckled at the small joke and I smiled at him, relief flooding me. He was going to be all right.

"What are you saying?" Paul said. I turned to look at him. Disbelief clouded his features. It was obvious what my father was telling us but Paul wasn't prepared to accept it.

"I'm saying... I'm calling it quits Paul. It's no use. I'll recover, but I'll never be able to fight like I used to. I'm sorry kids. I hope I haven't disappointed you."

"No, of course not! Don't worry Dad- I don't care about that. I'm just glad you're okay," I said as I hugged him carefully.

"But you can't quit!" Paul said suddenly, standing up from where he was kneeling. Since we'd heard the news that Dad was hurt Paul was calm and collected, confident that his injuries couldn't have been too serious. But now he was shaking.

"You'll recover. I'll help. You'll be as good as new and you won't have to quit."

"Paul, not now!" I told him in an admonishing tone, glancing worriedly at my father.

"It's all right Annie," my father said, lifting up his hand to calm down both of us. "Paul, I know this might be hard to accept but it's for the best-"

"No, it's not for the best!" Paul cried, shaking his head. "How can it be? Maxville needs you, Uncle Charles. Are you just going to let Barron Battle get away? Are you really going to just give up?"

xxxxx

Paul had idolized my father. He was crushed when my father had retired and had taken to monitoring villain activity and contacting the nearest hero in times of distress. Dad said that Paul would get over it with time but he never really did. It made me a little worried when Paul talked like that about my father, and especially about Warren.

I wondered briefly if I should tell him what I thought. In the end I decided to just come out with how I really felt about the whole thing. "Paul, to tell you the truth I'm... sort of glad Dad's out of it. You know, retired. I was really scared when I heard that he got hurt. Don't get me wrong- it was great, him helping people and protecting the city. But he almost died." I took a deep breath before continuing. "And I'm angry about that, I am. But I just can't help but feel better knowing that's he's home now, safe and sound."

"Oh, and I suppose you have Battle to thank for that?" Paul asked coldly, shaking his head and looking out the bus window at the clouds that swirled past.

I stared at him incredulously- why was Paul acting like this? "How on earth can you say that?" The topic of Dad/Barron Battle/ Warren Peace had always been a very sensitive one for my cousin but since that we had found that we'd have to work with Warren, Paul had been considerably more disagreeable and ill tempered. "You can't possibly think I'm happy Dad got hurt?"

Paul peered at me from the corners of his eyes. "You're happy he's inactive. And Battle made that possible."

"You know that's not what I meant! You heard what I said. I'm mad at the guy too- just because I'm not taking it out on Warren every chance I get doesn't mean I'm any less upset about the whole thing. But what's happened has happened. Nothing in the world is going to change that." I took a breath to calm myself down, even managing to put my arm round Paul's shoulders as angry as I was with him. "Paul, please don't do anything that will get us in trouble. I can't afford to mess this up. I've worked it out- if I don't get an A for this it'll bring my entire average down to a C plus. My parents will kill me if that happens."

"Don't worry about it," Paul said absently. "It'll be fine."

"But promise me you won't start anything," I insisted.

"Yeah, yeah. I promise," he said, not sounding one bit sincere.

Unlike Paul, my interest in Warren was not one of undying hatred but rather deliberate indifference. I saw no gain in doing anything to incense him- in fact, though I'd never admit it to anyone, I was sort of scared of him. Twice over the past year and a half I had to break up altercations between him and my cousin, which usually involved me narrowly escaping flames intended for Paul.

Seeing Warren at his fiercest was something I never wanted to go through again. The bulk of my passive ill feeling was mainly fixated upon his father Barron Battle who was safe in prison and who in my view was already paying for what he did to Dad. For me Warren was neither here nor there in the revenge equation. But Paul in his weird logic decided that if he couldn't get at the father he'd take it out on the son and what was more, he felt perfectly justified in doing so. Over the years I simply could not convince him to let it go.

I watched Paul concernedly as he messed around with a couple of his friends in the seats in front of us. Paul was a good person but he could sometimes be very stubborn, especially if his pride was at stake. And his quick temper easily rivaled that of Warren. That and the fact that he was the group leader could only lead to serious problems. I had to be the buffer for any possible confrontation, avoiding them all if possible. It was up to me to set the example and exhibit a tacit truce. From that point on, I made up my mind: everyone in our group was going to get along with everyone else- starting with me and my cousin.

Feeling better, I sat back. This project might not turn out so badly after all, I thought.