A Fight Worth Fighting Chapter 8: Dealership Brooke's Home Life, a csi fanfic

A/N: I must say, this was the quickest chapter I've written so far! Ideas just kept coming one after another and quite fluently. Plus the fact that I just blew off all homework I had, so that maximized my writing time. ) Aren't you all so lucky? Well, this chapter is light in the beginning, and then it goes into Brooke's past slightly for those of you that want a backstory on Brooke. But mind you! This is a small tidbit of Brooke's past. Still much more to come. So, enjoy! Oh yeah, and I may say one bad little swear in here, but it's nothing y'all can't handle, right? Let me know though, but you probably won't. P

Disclaimer: No.

Chapter 8: Dealership + Brooke's Home Life

Brooke's POV:

"Now, this is what I'm talking about" I commented on the dealership as Sara and I entered.

With the duffle bag containing the $300,000 dollars slung over my shoulder, I walked in a little more and stared at these little go-karts. Or at least, that's what I considered them when I compared them to mine.

Glancing behind me at Sara, I watched how she eyed one of the Bentleys near the front. I watched as she sauntered over to it and began to inspect it for herself.

"Nice color" She commented on the silvery, grayish color that the car had.

"Yeah, if you Puffy" I snickered at her as I continued to look around.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tall and slim figure advancing toward me in a dark blue suit and a bald head. Turning to be greeted by the car salesmen, I saw that look that said he was determined to get us to buy something. He was of a like color to me, so he must have figured that would create some type of bond between us. Yeah... RIGHT.

"Good afternoon, sisters I'm Warren Morris, and if there's anything I could help you with, I'm your dog" I had to refrain from laughing at the guy as he tried to use street language in an educated voice. Knowing Sara, she was probably back there doing the same thing.

But my eyes wandered quickly to behind the man where I saw even better cars on display. One in particular caught my eyes without a second glance. Pushing past the guy in a rather rude and rough manner, I jumped down the steps and made my way to the car. With the enthusiasm of a little kid hyped up on candy in a candy shop, I inspected everything about the car.

"Get the Hell outta here, man! Is that the new 993 Turbo?" I asked in amazement, sensing him coming up behind me.

"Actually, that's the 993 Carrera." He corrected me promptly.

"Shit! It got eight cylinders? They kick out six-hundred horsepower, right?" I claimed as I looked for him, not really looking for conformation but did it anyways.

"That's six cylinders, four-hundred seventy-five horsepower." He said with a too perfect smile as he once again, and I leaned against the car, trying to tick this guy off.

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes just as they set upon another work of wonder.

"Would you mind not leaning on the..." Warren attempted to tell me off, but I had once again push past him to get to another car.

"Shit! I could get my music banging in this, dog." I said as I ran to the driver's door.

Not even bothering to open the door, I jumped over it and got into the seat. This guy was just waiting to explode. If this didn't tick him off, there was no use. Yeah, I'd get a scolding from Sara later, but oh well. A girl is entitled to her fun every once in a while, right?

Taking out my mixtape from my pocket, I popped it into the tape player and pressed play after starting up the car. Before Warren Morris or anyone else could understand what was happening, the first song echoed through the dealership.

"It's ladies night what, it must be Angie on the mic
The Butter P honey got the sugar got the spice
Roll the L's tight, keep the rhymes right
Yo I just made this motherbumper up last night"

"You're not allowed to play any music here." He tried to call over the blasting music, but I promptly turned the volume to thirty-five. "Could you turn it off, please? Could you turn the music off, please?" He was now screaming as I danced happily inside to the music.

"Oh this is ladies night, and our rhymes is tight
Oh this is ladies night, oh what a night (oh what a night)
Oh this is ladies night, and the feel is right
Oh this is ladies night, oh what a night (oh what a night)" I sang along with the chorus.

"Turn the music off! Look, can you turn the music off, please! Can you not hear me? Could you turn the music down, please?" He pleaded vigorously until he reached in and ejected the tape, tossing it in my lap.

"Hey! I was gettin' my groove on there, brother..." I said sarcastically.

"It is not a toy." He was making an endeavor to not yell at me as a vein popped out of his forehead.

"A'yo man... You think I could hit some corners in this? Take it on a test drive?" I asked, now on my next mission to tick him off a little bit more seeing as how it only lasted for a few seconds.

"I'm sorry. Our policy is no test drives." He said in his normal tone now.

"How about hooking a sister up then?" I inquired next, truly wanting to try the car out and not buy it.

"Hooking a sister up?" Warren said in an amused tone. "The cheapest car we have here is $75, 000." He said.

"That it?" I said nonchalantly as I felt the bag over my shoulder getting out of the car now.

Suddenly, the sight of a preoccupied Sara going toward one of the exotic cars that I definitely didn't seem to think was suitable for work, but whatever floated her boat.

"Hey, Brooke! Stop harassing the man. This is it." Sara called over without even laying eyes on us.

"Oh, yeah. See? My girl's got taste." I said proudly as I went over to her.

"Yes, well, she's got something." I heard him mumbling under his breath as I walked away.

"Damn man!" Now I knew she wasn't shopping for a work car, and if it was, well... She'd be catching more than a couple of eyes on the way there. "This shit is hot, man How much? $200 thou?" I directed the question to Warren as he approached.

"Actually, $285." He was back to correcting me.

Staring at him in shock, I replied. "It better get me laid for two eighty-five man." I let my crude humor go.

"Actually, there are only seven of these for sale in the U.S." Warren informed as I half noticed Sara inspecting the interior thoroughly.

"That many, huh?" I asked with an arched eyebrow. "Pop the hood, girl. I want to see what $285 look like." I instructed Sara as I moved to the front of the car.

"That's the hood. That's the trunk." He made a sad attempt to joke by reversing the names of the places. I laughed weakly and sarcastically along with him. When he realized that he was about as funny as a hole in my head, he shut up and cleared his throat. "Ah, never mind." He spoke under his breath with embarrassment.

"Yo, start it up, Sar." I told Sara next. She sent me a quiet glare, telling me to behave myself without a doubt, but I just scoffed.

"It's only a little bit of fun." I signed to her in ASL.

"Watch yourself before I have to." She warned back in ASL.

"No, I'm sorry. It's our policy. You can't start up the car. It's policy. Sorry." I saw quickly that the other salesman behind him, a white man with actual hair, tossed Sara the keys. Warren saw this too, for he turned back to him in anger. "What in the..." He never got to finish his sentence above the loud roaring of the engine.

Yeah, she tells me to behave myself, but she's doing it herself. Sara hasn't changed at all. I thought to myself as I relaxed to the sound of the revving engine.

Unfortunately, a certain annoying salesman by the name of Warren Morris had to disturb my peace. "Hey, you! Turn off the engine!" He barked at Sara, who was showing no signs of stopping. Girl was deaf sometimes, or was she toying with him too? He was just so easy to annoy, and he needed to lay off the strictness. He ain't the boss when I step through the door. I am. "Would you turn off the engine, please?" He yelled over the roar of that beauty of an engine.

"Yeah, yeah!" I cheered Sara on.

"Could you turn off," Sara chose the perfect timing to turn off the engine. "the motherfucking engine!" He screamed at the top of his lungs through the whole store. As he stared around, his colleagues stared at him in astonishment.

"You don't have to yell. All you had to do was ask. You'll get much better results." Sara said coolly as she sat back now, hand resting on the steering wheel nonchalantly.

"Will you please just leave?" The vein popped out of his forehead once more as he seethed.

"No. I want this." She said unperturbedly as she looked over at me. "If that's all right with you."

Before I could give my answer, the salesman intervened quite rudely. "Well, unless you decide you'd like to live in this, I suggest that you..." I interrupted him now.

"I suggest you get started on the paperwork." I stated with a snap of my fingers.

He laughed at me quietly for a second, looking back at his more generous white friend. "What do these people think...?" He told him before I unzipped the duffle bag and flashed the large wads of money at him. "Oh my God." He said as a breath escaped him as he reached for the money but I swatted his hand away.

"There's $300 in there." I said, tossing the bag over to the man behind him, the only one that'd helped us all along. "Make sure he gets the commission."

"He get..." Warren said with disbelief and shock.

"Right this way ladies." The man said as we walked with him to go do the paperwork. "By the way, the name's Mike."

After all the paperwork was done with, we were on our way, walking back to the car.

"Keep the change." I threw him a thankful wink as he stood in the doorway of his office as I got on the passenger side and opened the Lamborghini doors.

With Sara starting the engine up again, I put the mixtape in once more and blasted my song once more and the guy gave me a grateful smile as I closed the door and settled in. My car was still at Sara's apartment where we'd stopped while waiting for a car dealership to open, we'd gotten here by taxi cab. Now we were getting out of there.

As Sara was revving the engine again, Warren called out again, glancing between us and the duffle bag. "Maybe I made a mistake. You know?" He tried to make amends, but it was a day late and a dollar short. "We're both homies. All of us here. Why don't you... Homies! I'm your man!" Was the last thing I heard as Sara pulled out of the dealership through the exit in the back for the cars.

As Sara drove down the highway now, at the speed limit though it seemed to be going faster than that with this car, I couldn't resist the urge to stand up in the car and dance while standing up.

"Brooke!" Sara called as she yanked me down by my shirt.

"Sorry, couldn't resist. Always wanted to do that." I said with an ear-to-ear grin.

"You're going to get me in trouble one of these days, I can just feel it." She said with an eye roll as she drove on.

"Not intentionally, but I can't promise anything with the accidental stuff." I said as I continued to dance in my seat to the song.

Sara, claiming to be slightly tired, said she'd like to just go home and sleep like she normally did, no offense intended to me. The drive back wasn't uncomfortably silent, but I could still sense something was wrong. I wanted to ask, but decided against it seeing as how my sister was a very private person and when she felt up to it, she would tell me. There was just some things you didn't push with Sara Sidle, and I decided to behave myself for once, if only for her sake.

It's been that way since we were kids. Albeit, she never talked much about anything in the beginning, she did open up finally. And when she did, I was appalled by what she had to say. Back then, even my previous home life wasn't as horrific as what Sara's was like. Sure, I went through what every abused child went through. With my biological parents, I barely remembered my Mother because she died when I was a small child, only turning five. I barely remembered anything about her now, except for some points when I closed my eyes, I could still here her voice. It sounded a lot like Sara's. That might've been why I attached to Sara immediately when we were in the same foster home. But my Father was just as devastated about my Mother's death as I was. While other people were calling me a miracle baby for surviving a car crash like that, my Father resented me and blamed me for my Mother's death. While the car had flipped down the hill after we got rammed by the eight-wheeler from the side, my Mother's first reaction was to guard and protect me so she jumped in the backseat and embraced me. Somewhere between the shattering glass and the bouncing motion the car was in, my Mother took all of the hits and as the car landed, my Mother went flying out of the car through the window and landed several feet away from the car. I escaped virtually unharmed physically, but the mental scars I still had will never leave me.

Within a year of my Mother's death, no only had my Father's hatred of me grow fierier by the day, he also started on habits that directly affected me. Instead of the loving Father that once would lay down his life, he now invited his alcoholic friends and gave them no barriers as to what they could do in the house, which didn't stop on what they could do to me. Every time, if he walked in while it was happening, he would simply scoff and slam the door back shut and continue on with what he was doing. And just as his hate for me had developed very easily, a resentment of my own toward him formed then as well.

Soon enough, my Father started to join in on the Abuse Train his friends had started, and then I was constantly enduring pain night by night. More I cried, more pain that was inflicted. And torture could range from anything from baseball bats to punching bag practice with me as the punching bag. And afterwards, he was kick me downstairs to the basement, literally, and lock me down there for days until the bruises partially healed, tossing down raw meat occasionally to feed me. My life at home wasn't much better than an abused dog's life.

But Sara's topped mine by a mile. When we both had opened up to each other about our home life before the Crooks, we had made a silent vow to each other to keep the other one safe from harm since then. All of the long term sexual abuse that she had to put up with her father, her mother included and all her mother would do is remain submissive through the whole ordeal. Her brother, Marc, wasn't much better. He refused to get involved, so he sunk into the life of drugs and alcohol to numb his pain and misery. But Sara remained a fighter and put up with it night after night. Told the same lies day after day to her teachers and counselors, and kept up with her school, always looking for a brighter day. Hopeful... Something I never had, and I used to envy her for it.

But sometimes vows are hard to keep, especially when they involve another person. Judging on the look on Sara's masked face, I could tell I hadn't kept up my end of the bargain. I sunk further into the seat at that revelation.

Pulling into Sara's parking space, we sat there for a second or two to soak up the hot Las Vegas sun. It felt good hitting my skin directly, warming my bones that seemed to freeze inside of me.

"Hey, this isn't gonna be your work car, is it?" I asked while I still had my eyes shut.

"No... They provide work cars at work. This is just so I can get to work without having to call on someone." Her gaze fell upon me. "So do you have to go?"

"Being around a tired Sara Sidle makes me a tired Brooke Waters!" I said as I opened my eyes and managed a smile for her. "I need to rest and get something to eat, man. So unless you wanna cook me something, and give me the couch, I best be out."

"I'm tired myself, I might fall asleep at the stove." Sara joked.

"Well, does it look like I want your head in my food? I prefer my food to be headless, thank you very much." I commented as I got out of the car. "Hey, if you want... On another day, maybe I could re-paint the car Brooklyn style, huh? Whatcha say?"

"Not without me there. I don't need it to come back looking like the Graffiti walls back in Brooklyn." Sara said with a sarcastic tone as she got out too, taking out her stuff from the car. "I know... Call you later. I will."

"All right. Catch you later Sar." I called as I went for my car.

"Sure thing." She called as she walked toward her apartment.

Sighing and placing my sunglasses on, I entered my car and drove home without another sound or word. A half an hour's drive brought me to "my" house, which stood in the middle of the Snakebacks' territory. Switch from one ghetto to the other. My car looked so out of place from the rest of the area, but that was understandable. Technically, the car wasn't even mine. It was just a temporary that came with the job I have.

Getting out and staring at the small house in front of me, I began my reluctant walk up the cement walkway to the door, going up three small steps to get to the door. Removing a set of keys from my pocket, I stuck them into the keyhole and rotated it slightly to unlock it. Opening it as quietly as possible, I shut it behind me as I stepped into broken up living room. It seemed that Jennifer's boyfriend was on a rampage again... Why hadn't she called me, I thought as I slowly began to pick up the debris laying on the floor. It was routine... Take the glass and throw it away first, then pick up everything else. Lastly, arrange the furniture the way it was before the tornado known as Eric blew through here. This time though, as I put the flipped couch back the way it was, I found a bloody knife underneath it. Eyes widening in horror, I dropped everything and ran to Jennifer's bedroom.

On my trip down the hall, I saw two bloody streaks trailing down the hall toward the bedroom. Rushing, I kicking the closed door in as I walked in and gasped at the sight of my good friend curled up in the corner of the room shaking uncontrollably.

"Jen." I whispered softly to her as I ran to her and dropped to my knees in front of her. The bloody streaks led right to her. "Jesus, why didn't you call me?"

"I tried to but I couldn't get up to move to the phone..." Her voice was barely a whisper to keep it from cracking.

Unsure of what she meant, it showed in my eyes as she lifted her pant legs to reveal two stab wounds in her ankles, still bleeding.

"Dammit..." I said to myself. "C'mon, I'm getting you to the hospital Jen... You need to go."

"NO!" She yelled suddenly. "I can't. They'll ask what happened and then I'll have to tell them! If I tell them, he'll come back to kill me for sure." Her voice began to crack. "I... I don't know what the Hell to do anymore..." She let another wave of sobs overtake her body and reached out to me.

Gathering her in my arms, I held her there and allowed her to cry on my shoulders. Every time I shifted into a different position to get comfortable, Jen would grip onto my shirt tighter in fear that I was leaving her. It took a little while, but I managed to calm her down and she fell asleep. Crying herself to sleep seemed to be what she did most these days now, but I knew there wasn't much either of us could do. Not at this point anyways, and that was the part I hated to accept the most.

Lifting her into my arms, I carried her over to her bed and laid her down gently. The loss of our contact made her shrivel into a ball again, but I gripped her hand tightly with mine and rubbed lazy circles with my thumb until she calmed down in her unconscious state. The sight of my stitched up knuckles on my hand that grasped Jen's hand, my jaw clenched at the sight, knowing this was partly his fault too. How I managed to even associate with Eric at times, which our "relationship" was a combatant one, I will never comprehend. Every time he remains civil in the house, even then I want to inflict dire pain while he's wide open and vulnerable. But for once, I found my impulsive nature wouldn't work to an advantage in this fight.

It wouldn't work for the better in regards to Jen... I thought to myself as I looked up at her face.

A single scratch ran across her forehead, not deep to scar or be serious, but still it was there nonetheless. This was untypical for Eric. He never risked putting his damage on easy public display, which meant the face. His targets were the torso mainly, but sometimes branched out to the limbs.

This baby's not going to make it either... I thought sadly as my eyes flashed over Jen's rounding stomach. Three and a half months... That bastard. I said inwardly as I noticed the blood leaking from between Jen's legs.

Not baring the scene any longer, I stood up and walked out of the room, silently closing the door behind me. I needed to know the children were safe, not only my own son, Roxas, but Jen's two children as well, Alex and Kylie. Alex, being ten-years-old, knew that if Eric was acting up to call me in the event that Jen was slightly tied up in the moment. Why hadn't he this time?

Discovering Alex and Kylie's door was closed as well, I knocked lightly on the door. "Alex? Are you guys in there?"

Muffled screams came from within and panic rose in me as I tried to open the door. It was locked though.

Please don't let Eric be in there with those two and my baby... Please God. I prayed as I rammed the door in and went in.

Seeing Alex and Kylie tied and gagged on their bed, but well alive made a small wave of relief wash over me. Nonetheless, I took out my gun and cleared the room to ensure Eric wasn't there. Once I was satisfied, I holstered my gun to my waistline again as I untied and ungagged both children and they leapt at me to embrace me.

"Don't let Daddy come back, Auntie... I don't want him to come back." Kylie, an angel faced six-year-old, whimpered in fear.

"I tried Auntie. I really tried. But he was stronger than me." Alex said with fury in his voice... A little boy should not feel fury at this age. "Is Mommy all right?"

"Mommy's gonna be all right, I promise. She's a fighter, so she'll live. Right now she's just resting." I gave them the short and sweet version; no need to make them panic. "Where's Roxas?"

"I hid him in the closet so Eric wouldn't get to him. I know that Eric hates Rox just as much as he hates you..." Alex explained as he got off the bed and walked with wobbly legs over to his rug.

Shifting the rug to a different spot, it revealed a trap door we all knew was there. I had insisted that we build it just incase of times like this. Alex raised the door up and exposed my twenty-two month baby boy, Roxas James Waters, sleeping unharmed in the compartment. Reaching down, I brought my baby boy into my arms and held him closely as I took Alex into my arms as well. Going over to the bed and sitting down, Kylie crawled into my lap and curled up insecurely, seeking protection out of me. Settling them in comfortably, Roxas already dead asleep, I encased them in my arms as I laid down next to them.

"When you're feeling lost in the night
When you feel your world just ain't right
Call on me I will be waiting
Count on me I will be there
Anytime the times get too tough
Anytime your best ain't enough
I'll be the one to make it better
I'll be there to protect you, see you through
I'll be there and there is nothing
I won't do..." I softly began to sing my special song to them to get them to fall asleep.

In no time at all, the little ones were asleep with tears still streaming down their face, knowing now was the time to let it out when I was around. They refused to cry at any other time.

Just how a monster like Eric could make two wonderful children like Alex and Kylie, I will never understand. It must just be Jen's genes in them. But in some ways, I did see a little bit of Eric in Alex and Kylie, Alex especially. Apart from the lilac eyes that he definitely inherited from his father, he also got his father's determination and strength. It's just that they used them for two opposite reasons. Eric used them to harm, while Alex used them to terminate harm from the ones he loves. Eric's slight brownish color skin was another thing Alex had of his father's but that was it.

As for Kylie, I could see little to none of Eric in her except when she got mad. The anger part she shared with her father, unfortunately enough, and I knew it was influenced directly from him. She'd grown up watching the violence, but thankfully it never touched her directly. If anything were to ever harm either of the children, just like I would for my own child, I would kill for them.

After I was assured the children were asleep from their deep breathing, I slipped out of their room discreetly to check up on Jen. A bump was heard from down the hall in her room and I picked up the pace as I walked into her room to see her stumbling to stand, leaning up against the wall for support. It didn't last for long as she slid to the floor, tears in her eyes once more. Going to her side once more, I sat there for several seconds to see if she wanted to say anything. It was in her eyes; she just wanted to see her children.

"At least let me dress the wounds..." I said softly.

Her voice choked up on the words so her resolve was to nod. Leaving her there on the floor, I went into her bedroom's bathroom and removed the bandages from the medicine cabinet, along with antiseptic wash and a towel. Departing from the bathroom, I went back to her side and began the regular process of cleaning the wounds and bandaging them up. It took mere minutes, but her silent tears ran on far after the dressing was done. Shifting to a crouching position beside her, I took one of her arms and threw it over my neck as my arm snaked around her waist. Getting a firm grip of her belt on her pants, I lifted her up and forced all of her weight on me. I dragged her out of the room without any help from her, down the hall to the kids' room, where I promptly and quietly, opened the door and stood there.

"They're so perfect... So beautiful." Jen mumbled under her breath as she watched the sleeping figures. "How did I ever deserve them? Why do I put them through this Hell? They deserve better."

"Even if you wanted to put them in a different predicament, they wouldn't want to go so long as you're still stuck here." I sighed as I watched my own son, knowing this wasn't fair to him either. "They're stubborn, like someone I know..." I attempted to joke to make her feel better.

Fighting with consciousness now, Jen let a weak smile pass just before her head fell onto my shoulder. If I thought the weight was heavy before, when she was complete deadweight, I almost collapsed from the pressure. Readjusting my grip on her belt and gripping her arm a little tighter, I adjusted it so it was comfortable for me to lug her out of the room and back to her own. Setting her back down on her bed, I sat down next to her and stared out the window above her bed.

A clear day in a gloomy household. How lovely.

TBC...

A/N2: Yes, it gets very heavy at the end. Sorry... Couldn't resist. But not that I have too much time on my hands right now to talk in this, so please just R&R... It shows me a lil' TLC people.. )

Peace out, one love,

MC New York