Category: Angst / Adventure / Romance

Pairing: Hector / Steph / Lester

Rating: R

Summary: Hector tries to figure out his options.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no matter how much I might wanna keep them.

Warning!! I really don't think there's anything in this chapter to fear

Author's Note: My name is Emerith, and I'm a Guitar Hero addict. Does anyone know of a 12-step program? LOL
There seem to be a lot of questions about Hector's past and why he ended up with the gang, I promise they will ALL be answered. This isn't simply going to be one story. Habit is actually the first of a multi-part series. So not all questions will be answered in this particular section of his history, but it will all come out eventually.

Enjoy the story ladies, and try not to shoot me for how short it is. Hector insisted it was the proper place to leave it…

Breaking The Habit

6

I trailed my eyes down from the blank ceiling I'd been staring at while I related my tale, to glance over the faces of my companions.

Lester's face was once again adorned with that smirk, all these years later I fought the same urge to wipe it off his face. Except now I had much more definitive ideas of just which parts of my anatomy I wanted to use to do it. One day I'd find out what goes on in his head when he's wearing that look. The only time I ever know what he's thinking is when he's naked and horny. A raging hard-on is the only part of that man that gives away his secrets.

Stephanie looked almost placid. Too serene to have just learned that a man she'd slept with, a man she was lying naked in bed with, was a formerly high ranked gang banger responsible for taking people's lives. She caught my eyes with her own and offered me a gentle smile.

"I'm not here to judge you Hector. I just want to learn about you. If it's part of what made you who you are today, then I'm ok with it. I like you fine just the way you are, and nothing that's made you that person is going to change my mind. Even if it's hard to say, or hard to hear, it won't change what I think of you Hector. I don't need to love what you've been through to be able to love You. There's already enough that makes me want to do that anyway."

Leave it to Steph to get right to the heart of things. I laid my head back on my pillow and resumed my intense scrutiny of the spackle that made up the ceiling. Somehow she knew just how insecure I was about disclosing my past, without me ever having to say the words. She'd be gentle with me, that's just the type of person she is. I should have known she wouldn't pass judgment on me.

OoOoOoOoOoO

I didn't waste a lot of time feeling sorry for myself once Lester had left.

To save myself or not to save myself? I never thought it would be a difficult question.

I grabbed the duffle bag that had been left for me off the bed and headed into the door off the kitchen. Bathroom, just as I'd figured. Hospital white, new fixtures, the apartments must be a relatively new addition to the building.

I set the bag on the toilet lid and slid the zipper open. A neatly folded pair of black sweats, a neatly folded black t-shirt and a rolled up pair of white boot socks were the only articles of clothing in the bag. Sitting beside the clothes was a smaller, green camouflage toiletry bag. I pulled that out and set it on the back of the sink to sort through.

A razor. I ran my hand over my cheek, feeling the weeks worth of stubble that had pushed through since I'd last made my appearance a priority. I took the rest of the items from the bag, lining them up along the edge of the sink. Toothpaste, the minty kind. Toothbrush, single wrapped bar of Irish Spring soap, trial size bottles of shampoo and conditioner, trial size Mitchum deodorant and… a condom. If this was the standard emergency bag for Ranger's employees, I could only imagine what a standard day was like. As much fun as ruminating on that right now might be, it's definitely not the best plan of action.

I turned the sink on and started to work on making myself more presentable. Maybe if I looked a little better, I might feel a little better. I wasn't surprised at the lack of shaving cream in the bag. You can get good at anything if you've done it enough times. Dry shaving was one of those things. When you're often in a hurry and frequently broke, it's just another one of life's little inconveniences. Sometimes you were just grateful for the razor.

As the razor stroked my cheek, slowly scraping away the bearishness from the face in the mirror, I took in the man staring back at me. A far cry from the innocent I'd once been. Circumstances had made me what I was. Could I break my mold and make myself something different?

Caramel colored eyes stared back at me. My father's eyes. Puffy, dark bags surrounding them from the recent stress. Short black spikes of hair hung down my forehead, greasy and limp from days of not being cared for. Cleaned up it shined in a much shorter, much more stylized cut, but it was still undoubtedly my Mother's hair. The only pieces left of them in this world.

I rinsed the razor and stuffed it back in the toiletry bag, running a palm over my now smooth cheeks. The bar of soap was unboxed and my clothes methodically stripped before I folded them, leaving them in a neat pile on the floor beside the door. I slid the door aside and turned the water on. My thoughts turning back to family as I stepped inside and slid the glass door shut behind me.

My real family had been gone for so long there were days when I hardly remembered them. The closest person to family I had known for years had last been seen firing a gun at me. Were there mitigating circumstances? Could I find some way to forgive that, to get him out of there with me before it was too late? Maybe I could convince Ranger to help me get Rufio out too. He was my brother, and no matter the reason he'd done what he'd done, I couldn't conscionably leave him behind.

I scrubbed and scrubbed with that little bar of soap. Rubbing away sweat, smoke and beer from the bar, the grime of Trenton's holding cells, the dirt from the parking lot where I'd been thrown to the ground. My head hung and as I watched the dirty water swirl down the drain every last shred of energy I had went with it. I had no ambition left to fight. It would all just be so much easier if it was over.

My head dropped forward, my forehead resting against the cool tile of the wall. And as the water ran down my back, for the first time since I'd shut my self down at sixteen, tears leaked from my eyes. Trailing down my cheeks burning me hotter then the water could.

After all the years at each others sides. All the horrors we'd endured, just trying to survive. The few genuinely happy moments I could remember in my life that weren't linked to my early childhood, involved Rufio in some way. From the day I'd lost myself, he'd always just been there. We were friends, we were brothers, we were lovers. I loved him in a way it just wasn't possible for me to love anyone else. He was the only one who knew theMe behind the masks the street made me wear. He was there to help me make those masks.

Ten Years.

And now he'd tried to shoot me.

Had something gone wrong? Were they trying to use us against eachother? Why would he turn against me?

Why? WHY? "WHY!?"

I hadn't realized the scream had actually tumbled form my lips. I hadn't felt my arm move either. Until I felt the impact of my knuckles against the tile to the right of my head vibrate up through my arm, my head bouncing the slightest bit as the tile absorbed the shock.

I looked on with detachment, my arm hanging limp at my side as drips of watery red fell from my fingertips to disappear into the drain.

Everything was changing and I couldn't get a grip on it.

My whole world was going to tilt no matter what decision I made.

The only thing I could affect was how much fallout there was, and who it landed on.

Those were the thoughts that followed me as I made my way from the shower. Blotting at my hand with the single white towel that had been hung on the rack beside the shower door, as the rest of my body dripped big wet splashes across the floor.

When the cracks in my knuckles had stopped spotting I finished drying myself off, pulling on the sweats and t-shirt quickly. Foregoing the socks in favor of surer footing in bare feet.

I used the Mitchum liberally, put the toothbrush and toothpaste aside for after I'd put some food in my stomach and didn't even bother to spare a thought to the condom before I tossed it back in the bag. The toiletry bag was tossed back inside the duffle and I grabbed that up to take back out with me.

When I opened the door from the bathroom I was immediately assaulted with the heavenly smell of food. I appreciated it for about half a second before my eyes landed on Lester sitting on the couch in the corner of the room. Was there ever a time where his smile didn't come off looking smug? I really did not like other people having access to me. Had there been even a chair, I would have wedged it under the doorknob in an attempt to keep my security. Since there wasn't, and I was for all intents and purposes in someone else's home, I'd have to swallow my pride and fear and play nice.

I stopped to drop the bag next to the door before I made my way to the half of the main room that served as a Living Room. Lester motioned to the other end of the couch and I complied simply out of curiosity to see what had brought him back here before morning.

"Ranger sent me up to talk to you," The amusement dropped from his face entirely as he spoke. The light in his eyes even dimming behind the seriousness of whatever it was that had brought him there. "There was a body pulled from the brush at the side of Route One halfway between here and Newark, about 45 minutes ago. Going by description from the local police bands and the involvement of a Gang Task Force, Ranger's pretty sure the victim is the same man who was shooting at you this morning."

OoO To Be continued OoO