Title: LegacyIII
Author: BELOVEDbyWAR
Rating: PG-13
TV verse: Blood Ties
Disclaimer: Not mine, not making any money.
Summary: Mike's changes trigger some memories.
Warning: Mentioning of abuse.
AN: Thanks to my wonderful beta luvinmike!
WK: 1117
Part III:
Mike felt lost. What was wrong with him?
After Vicki left the room, he sat there for a few moments until he finally managed to pull himself together.
He removed his wet shorts and changed into the new ones.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his reflection in Vicki's dressing mirror and could not believe what he saw. There looking back at him was a stranger. Admittedly, he wore his face and still had his height, but there the resemblance ended. His body looked carved from marble with all hard lines. Gone was the slight softness he had acquired the last few years. The skin was white, no, crème-colored, with an unnatural glow to it, and his hair… Lord, his hair was as light as it had been when he was young and bleached from the long hours spent playing in the sunny garden.
But what made him draw a shocked breath were his eyes! What could have caused this to happen? They looked eerie! Unnatural blue and intense, somehow alien. Good Lord, was that really him? He looked hideous!
He was only happy that his father was dead. The old bastard would have a field day with this.
He remembered a day when he had been nine. It had been a beautiful day and he had been playing in the garden when he suddenly heard a noise.
Looking up in the tree under which he sat, he saw two baby raccoons hanging and climbing on the branches.
They were so cute and when they came down and crawled closer to him, looking as curious as he was, he felt blessed and happy. One was even so bold as to climb on his leg, looking at him in wonder. When Mike reached out a hand to pet it, the raccoon sniffed his hand before allowing the touch.
Suddenly he heard a loud, Italian curse and his father raced outside. The raccoons swiftly retreated into the tree.
"What do you think you are doing, boy?!" Mike tried to stand up, but his old man pushed him so hard back to the ground that the boy bit his tongue.
"Those are no pets! They are rodents! Don't touch them ever again! Do you hear me! And quit being such a girl! Boys don't play with animals. They play ball or learn how to fight!"
The next week Mike joined a karate club and never allowed himself to play with animals again. He had wanted his father to love him but that had proven fruitless.
Over the years it had only gotten worse. No matter what he did, his father would find fault in it. His grades were not good enough, his build was too slim, he wasn't a womanizer… even his face was not manly enough!
One other time, Mike must have been around fifteen or sixteen, he had worn his hair a bit longer and all complimented him on how handsome he looked. But his father had said that only women and faggots wore their hair like that. He had grabbed Mike's sun-kissed, blond locks and harshly pulled his head back.
"Are you one, boy? A fucking fairy? You a freak?!"
Mike dared to use his karate skills to free himself, which only earned him a brutal right hook that left him with a split lip and a swollen black and blue jaw.
And that was only the start. The older he got, the more his father hit him. But no matter how hard he was hit, Mike never fought back.
That is, not until he witnessed his father beating his mother.
In a fit of drunken jealousy, the man had accused her of being an adulteress and backhanded her so brutally that she fell to the ground. Mike, just came home from visiting a friend, was frozen in shock until the older man moved to kick his wife, who was lying half-dazed on the carpet.
In the blink of an eye Mike was by her side and blocked the kick, catching the foot and turned it swiftly around that his father landed flat on his face. Mike helped his mother up. The moment he had sat her on the couch, a fist descended in his direction but he easily side-stepped it. Another punch followed. He caught it in his hand and squeezed with a might until he thought he could hear bone break.
This enraged the old bastard even more. Uncontrollably, he had lashed out and kicked like a mad man.
"What Mama's boy, is that all you can do? Sissy that you are! How is your boyfriend?"
Mike felt his anger build and balled his fist.
"What?! Is Mikey getting angry? Does he not like me talking about what the whole neighborhood knows? I bet you spread you thighs as easily as your whore of a mother!"
That was it. He saw red. For the first time in his whole life he dared to attack his father, gripping him by the neck like a doll and smashing him effortlessly into the wall.
"If you dare to speak about my mother like that again, I make you swallow your tongue! Hit her again and I break your hand. Kick her and you'll limp for the rest of your life. Do you get the picture?!"
His father had only stared at him as if he had seen a ghost. Mike could vaguely remember that he had thought it fitting that at that moment a storm had raged outside and thunder had struck.
He heard his three companions talking and could not help but question his whole life. Was this what he really was? And if so, what the hell was he? No, no he was human, right? This was a spell, nothing more! Or maybe just a nightmare and he would wake up now any second!
But nothing happened.
He remembered that fateful night. Had that been coincidence, the sudden strength, the storm? Had his father gotten a glimpse of the monster he was and hated him because of it?
When he denied the tears gathering there to be shed, his eyes sparkled even more.
He sat once again on the bed he had so often shared with Vicki. Vicki… he was sure the smallest chance of getting back together with her was now gone forever. Who could love a freak like him?
Something inside of him broke and it hurt like hell and made him lose his breath. He tried to calm down but he simply could not get enough air. Desperately, he lay on his side, clutching a pillow to his chest while his shoulders heaved.
Silently somebody entered the room.
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