Here we are, the penultimate chapter. Thanks for all the reviews! They mean so much.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High, or any of its canon characters.
Chapter Fourteen- After Battle
The guards immediately took us into custody except Barron Battle, who was led away on a stretcher. Before he was hauled off however, he reached out and gripped Warren's arm from where he lay.
"Warren." There was a strange urgency in his voice.
But Warren turned away from him with a pained expression. "Don't. Just don't," he said in a quiet voice.
Time sped up and slowed down at intervals, it seemed to me. Warren, Lisa and I were separated. Jana was taken to an ambulance due to the severe injuries to her arm. She was accompanied by several guards in what looked like hazmat suits. I don't know what happened to the others.
The police had come. They placed power-neutralizing steel bracelets round my wrists. A doctor came to treat my wounds. He told me I needed stitches for the three deep cuts on my face and then set to work. After the procedure I was taken to a room. They asked me dozens of questions, none of which I could register in my shock. It seemed to go on for hours; they appeared to ask the same things over and over again. I stared at the wall, saying nothing.
The next thing I knew, my father had come. His was the voice that finally got through:
"Anna what happened? Anna, you have to tell these people what happened!"
But I couldn't answer. The grief was too much. The pain held my tongue- it was as if I had gone mute.
"Talk to me, honey. Please."
I said nothing. I blinked slowly at him, not caring if I ever returned to myself again.
My father glanced at the two policemen, worried. "What's wrong with my daughter?" he asked them quietly.
"We don't know, sir. She's been like that since we found them."
There was a knock at the door. One of the men, taller than the others, excused himself and went outside. Moments later, he returned and whispered something to the other man. Then the tall man said quietly, "Mr. Arrian, could I talk to you in private for a minute?"
My father nodded, trying to hide the obvious fear that was rising within him. They both left the room and again I lost track of the time- minutes, hours, I couldn't tell. Suddenly in the silence, I heard a voice cry out - my father's. I let out a little gasp. He knew.
He burst back into the room and took me by the shoulders, tears in his eyes.
"Oh god Anna, what did you do?" he cried, shaking me. "What did you do!"
It was the emotion in his voice that set me loose. I wrenched away from him, nearly stumbling into the wall. Suddenly I was speaking, was screaming at him:
"I did what I had to! What you've always told me to do! Stand up for the innocent, remember?! Because he was Dad, even in jail doing his time, he was innocent! And Paul wanted to do something so terrible, so awful and I had to stop him, only it came out all wrong! It came out so wrong! He stopped moving, and he wouldn't move again- he'll never move again! Because of me, because I messed up! God, I'm sorry Dad- I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!"
I was on the floor, beyond grief. The tears blinded me- I wished they'd blind me forever. There was nothing left here but the dark and the knowledge that I'd killed the one who, even now, I regarded as the best friend I ever had.
It took some time to realize that my father was holding me as I lay on the ground. He made soothing noises that that comforted me very little. I no longer even tried to suppress the wail of pure agony that was spilling out of me. I wished silently, over and over, that Paul had been successful in our fight- and that I was the one who had died.
xxxxxxx
After the interminable interrogation, I was finally released from custody. Once they had my story and matched it with Warren's and Jana's accounts, my father said, they ruled Paul's death as self defense on my part.
I ran into Aunt Nia and Uncle Matthew standing outside the gates of the penitentiary amidst the flashing police cars. Her face was buried in Uncle Matthew's coat. She kept screaming, "It's not true! Oh god, it's not true!"
I stood there staring helplessly at them, horribly mesmerized by their grief. Finally my father took hold of my wrist and tugged gently.
"Come on, Anna," he said softly.
My father half-led, half-carried me to his car. I wondered if my aunt and uncle would ever speak to me again.
When I got home my mother was waiting for us. She met us at the door, numbly taking my dad's coat. For a long time she didn't meet my eyes. And then finally, she did.
There was no disappointment. No anger. Not even sadness. She looked… lost, like a little girl whose parent was no longer beside her in a crowd. She glanced at my father, then back at me, not knowing how to deal. Again, this was not her world. For a moment, I saw it in her eyes. I wasn't Anna her daughter, but Anna the super being who had killed someone in battle. It was a look she used to give my dad sometimes when he returned from a particularly brutal villainous encounter. It was more than I could bear. I needed her to see that she was wrong, that I was still the person she knew. I needed her to be there.
"Mom-"
"You should go upstairs and wash up, Anna. Then try to get some sleep." Her voice sounded automatic and held no warmth.
For the first time that night, I looked down. And saw the blood that stained my shirt. Some of it was mine, I knew. The rest…
I swallowed once. I tried not to freak out, but I was failing- my breath was coming out in short little sobs. But my dad held me, before my body could even think of collapsing.
"Come on, Annie. It's going to be all right." He helped me up the stairs and I held onto him tightly.
Hell was all around me that night. But at that moment, hearing my father call me Annie and having his reassuring arm round me made things just a little bit less terrible.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
One Week Later.
"Anna dear, would you like some juice?"
"No, thank you."
"How about some food? I could bring you a sandwich, or-"
"I'm not hungry, Grandma."
She stood there for a moment more hesitating, then slowly walked away. Later, I heard her murmuring to someone, "It's really hard for the young ones when they lose someone so close to their age-"
Why didn't they understand that some things couldn't be fixed with sandwiches and juice? I wondered. I was tired of being around them, around the gloomy awkwardness. I walked out of the living room and into the hallway. Everyone had come back to Aunt Nia's and Uncle Matthew's house after the funeral. Aunt Nia was somewhere in the kitchen. I had only glimpsed her at the ceremony; she didn't see me and I didn't go to her. Uncle Matthew was bed-ridden: the whole experience was just too much for him.
I had refused to go at first. When my dad told me that my aunt really wanted to see me, I was terrified. How could she possibly want me there? I'd killed her son. But deep inside I felt I owed her whatever she asked of me. So I went.
By now, everyone I knew had heard of Paul's death. To the non-super members of my family and the regular citizens who had known my cousin, he was killed in a vehicular accident, a hit-and-run. But the superhero community knew the truth. Both sides called my house, (and Aunt Nia's I was told) with their condolences. Eventually I stopped answering the phone, locked myself in my room and didn't come out… until today.
So there I was, squirming uncomfortably in the itchy material of my formal black dress. As I tugged at my neck line for the hundredth time, I heard a quiet voice call out behind me, "Anna."
I gave a gasp. Oh god...Paul. But it was impossible. I whirled around, my heart beating fast-
"Oh- Aunt Nia!" I whispered. "I'm sorry. I thought you were…never mind."
"You thought I was…Paul." Aunt Nia's voice struggled with the last word. Her eyes were red and puffy and slightly watery. She choked out a short laugh, "Everyone says we sound so much alike… we sounded so much alike…" Her voice trailed off.
For a while, neither of us knew what to say.
Then in a sudden rush of emotion, I half-whispered, "Aunt Nia… I am so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. Please don't hate me."
My aunt came over to me, her expression so intense that for a moment I thought she was going to hit me. She reached out and I flinched. But suddenly, I was in her arms- she was shaking.
"I don't hate you," she murmured, and her voice was thick with emotion. "Anna, I knew my son. I knew how he could be and what he was. I'd hoped… for a change. And for a little while, it seemed he had. Because of you. But I suppose in the end-" She gave a little sob. "I don't blame you Anna. None of us do."
Everyone was so brave at the ceremony that morning. No one cried, at least not openly. My mom and dad stayed with me, right up until the viewing-
No. No, I wasn't going to revisit that place again. I shook my head a little, refusing a slice of carrot cake that was offered to me for the fourth time.
There was a commotion in the corner. My aunt had broken down at last, sobbing fitfully. Gently, my parents and one of my second cousins helped her upstairs.
"Come on Nia," my mother murmured. "Just have a lie down for a while."
I suddenly felt as if I couldn't breathe properly. I had to get out of there, away from them all. Slowly, I backed out of the living room; into the hallway, through the door, onto the porch, down the steps-
They were calling my name, calling after me to come back. But I ignored them and kept going. I was running; running away from that house, from that street, from everything that reminded me of the fact that Paul was gone.
Only I couldn't run away from it. It was all around me, threatening to engulf me forever. Finally, I was too tired to run any further and I stopped. Panting, I waited to catch my breath. When I was able to breathe easier, I looked at my surroundings and realized where I was.
Home.