Ahhhhh yes I haven't updated in far far FAR too long. Does it help that this chapter is 3051 words long? It should. That's a lot of words.
I'm gonna g'head and pimp my friend's fic again. Emzilla101 is currently writing a marauders Harry Potter fic (lmfao I have no idea what that means. I yoinked that from her profile. :D xD) called Unforgiving, which, if you're a Harry Potter fan, you need to read. She's usually better at updating than I am, too, so that's also a plus. You can find that here: (remove the spaces, of course. :3)
http: /www . fanfiction . net/ s/ 6049492 / 1 / Unforgiving
NOW onto the fic that you actually came here to read. xD
I have given a lot of people a lot of black eyes in my time, but this is the first one I've ever been embarrassed about.
I woke up this morning feeling... well, not exactly refreshed, but better than I had the night before, anyways. I went to move my arm, before I realized that something was grabbing on to it.
Now, I'm a Cahill, ladies and gentlemen. I wake up with someone holding on to any part of me, the rest of it is instinctual. I flung the hand that was being held at the head of my "attacker", and realized just a smidge too late that it was Benjamin. And then I learned that Benjamin was asleep. And then I learned some new British swear words.
Long story short, I apologized profusely, and I offered him breakfast (after making sure my mom was gone- I'm apologetic, not stupid), which is why I was currently standing in my kitchen making eggs and pancakes while Benjamin is pouting at the kitchen table, ice pack still firmly over his eye.
"So you're a Kabra." I said as I flipped over a pancake. "I'm sure you've been in more fights to the death than most kids- and a black eye's gonna make you sit there like a little baby for the rest of the day? Or do you just not want to help with breakfast?"
He sighed melodramatically, grinning.
"It's not so much the black eye, but Grace, you've caused me emotional pain." He put his hand over his heart and grinned. "I stay up all night with you, so you can get a good night's sleep, and you thank me by punching me in the face?" he shook his head sadly and smirked.
I laughed. "Technically," I said, "you punched yourself in the face. I just moved your hand in the right direction."
"First my eye, then my feelings, and now my ego. Shame on you, Grace. You better have a plan to make it up to me."
I grinned, but my smile quickly faded when I saw who was walking over to the kitchen. It stalked over to me, and then jumped up on the counter, staring into my soul.
"Cute cat. " Benjamin said offhandedly, scratching the devil's head.
"This cat is the source of all the pain and suffering in the world. I'm 100% convinced that in its past lives, this cat was Hitler, Jack the Ripper, and quite possibly Estelle Getty."
"Estelle Getty?" Benjamin asked bemusedly. "The Golden Girl?"
I nodded. "That cat is every bad thing ever, rolled up into 10 pounds of fur and 2 pounds of actual body mass."
Benjamin grinned. "Aww, he can't be that bad." He said. "He kind of looks like the cat from Stewart Little."
I sighed. "That's why I wanted him, at first. But damn, Walter is a mean little mofo."
"Walter?" Benjamin questioned, still grinning.
"Walter." I nodded. "His full name is Walter the Great. But Walter's easier."
"You named your cat Walter the Great?" he asked incredulously.
I shrugged. "Well I wasn't just going to name him Walter. God, that's so... generic. Sometimes I call him Walt, but he doesn't like that." I said as Walter the Great hissed at me.
"He doesn't approve of being called Walt?" Benjamin asked, smirking. "How do you know?"
"I know because he's giving you the stink eye." I stated matter-of-factly.
"Cats can give people the stink eye?"
"Why don't you look over at Walter the Great and tell me?"
Benjamin looked over, and, sure enough, Walter was giving him a death glare worthy of any Kabra. I wondered absent-mindedly if they were somehow related, then realized that Walter the Great was a cat, so... probably not, but I'll stand by my theory.
I dropped Benjamin's plate of pancakes in front of him, and Walter the Great sauntered over to him and sat directly beside the pancakes, looking about as innocent as a pregnant nun.
"Walter the Great, step away from the pancakes."
Walter hissed at me, and so I hissed back, twice as loudly. He gave up, and dejectedly walked out of the kitchen.
"Is that a common occurrence in your house?" Benjamin asked, still looking in the direction of Walter the Great.
I sighed. "I wish I could tell you that, no, Walter the Great is usually on his best behaviour and I live in a totally normal and stable environment, but yes. That happens quite often. Pretty much at every meal time."
Benjamin raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah. I'm not a cat person, per se." I said quietly.
"I've noticed."
We ate in silence for a while, until I broke it.
"I do have a plan though." I said, "To make it up to you, I mean."
Benjamin grinned. "Of course you do. Never a dull moment with you, Grace."
I just smiled. "You aren't going to like it, but one day, you'll thank me."
Benjamin's eyes widened.
"That's right." I said, grinning now. "We're getting you some jeans."
...
Waiting was never something Amy Cahill was very good at.
She now knows that waiting for your ex, who has also tried to murder you, is far worse than regular waiting.
She was seated in a booth in a crowded McDonalds. She made sure to choose the location at its busiest hour, so nobody could ambush her without making a scene. She knew that this wasn't something Isabel knew about. If it was, Ian would have made sure he chose the location. He let her choose, so she knew he was for real. Or at least, as for real as a Kabra can ever get, she thinks bitterly.
"Hello." Ian's voice comes from behind her, so she waits a moment to turn around. She doesn't like seeing the face that goes with his stiff, formal tone. There had been a time where she thought she would never hear that tone again, but she knows that those days are long gone. She knows, but that doesn't mean that she wants to acknowledge it.
Eventually, however, she has to turn around. And for the first time in a long time, Ian Kabra surprises her.
He's wearing what he always wears, and his expression is the same as always- reserved, but a trained eye can see that just below that is something, a kind of sadness that's been there for too long. But the bags under his eyes are what she notices first and foremost. The bags under his eyes that show just how much he's been through. It's almost enough to make Amy feel something close to sympathy for the man.
Almost.
...
"Hurry your ass up, Kabra- we don't have all day!"
"You know," came the response, muffled slightly from the other side of the change room door, "we could have gone to a designer store. We could have gone to a bloody Levi's outlet for all I care. Why are we in a Wal-Mart?"
"Do you know who goes to Designer stores, Benjamin? Your father. Your aunt. Your delight of a grandmother. Wal-Mart is like a safe place for us right now. I mean, if I hadn't dragged you in, you wouldn't be caught dead here."
"Are you saying that all the time and money Lucians put into breaking in to Madrigal strongholds was a waste, because you guys were holding your meetings in Wal-Marts?" I could hear the grin in his voice.
"Pretty much. Well, not literally, obviously, but maybe all the time and money has always been a waste. I mean, the Tomas, Janus, and Ekats sure seem to think so. Are you done in there?" I asked, changing the subject before we got into the touchy stuff.
"Yes," Benjamin replied, "but I'm not sure I want to come out."
"Benjamin Kabra, you have exactly 7 seconds to open that door before I pick the lock and drag your sorry ass out of there."
I stood outside the door and counted the seconds (quickly, but who needs those stupid 'Mississippi's between numbers anyway?). When time was up, I pulled a bobby pin out of my hair and picked the lock in almost-record time, swinging the door open. Benjamin was sitting on the little change room bench with his arms folded across his chest, looking contemplatively at me.
"How did you-?" the question went unfinished, but I got the gist.
I smirked slightly, holding up the bobby pin and tilting my head.
"Cahill."
"Right."
"So," I said, "Let's see. Stand up."
Benjamin reluctantly complied, and it was all I could do to keep my mouth closed.
Because, come on, how does someone never wear jeans when they look like that in jeans?
"Okay." I said lightly, "So I'm going to need you to buy about 5 pairs of those."
"Why?" he asked, before it dawned on him, and a smirk worthy of a Batman villain crept on his face.
"Why Grace Cahill," he said, "do my jeans turn you on?"
My face went bright red, and I turned away.
"Nope." I said. "Not at all. I just think that you, being a rich guy who has never owned jeans before, should take advantage of the opportunity to buy many pairs that fit you-"I cleared my throat, "-that well."
He nodded and walked back in the change room.
"Totally turned on by my jeans." He called through the door.
...
They didn't say much for the first little while.
You can't blame them, because what would they say? It seemed like everything that could have been said was said years ago. 21 years, two marriages, and two kids ago. Amy wasn't sure what she was even doing here, sitting in a McDonald's booth with Ian Kabra. It didn't make any sense.
"I'm worried." Ian finally said. He might as well have said 'I'm secretly a woman'. That might have made more sense. Ian Kabra simply did not get worried. Or if he did, he sure as hell didn't admit it.
"About?" Amy asked, never quite making eye contact.
"About the fact that my son was asking about you. You and Grace. And now we can't find him."
Amy closed her eyes. Of course Ian was looking for Benjamin. She should have said something when she saw him in Grace's room, but she didn't. She didn't, because, a few years ago, the girl with the red hair she saw in bed, holding hands with someone she knew she shouldn't be could have been her.
"And you're blaming me?" she asked quietly.
Ian didn't say anything for a while, before he leaned down, forcing Amy to look into his eyes. And she was trapped again.
"I'd be lying," he said, "if I told you that I like the way my life turned out. But I would also be lying if I said that I regret Benjamin in any way, shape, or form. I know you feel the same way about Grace, and I know that you would cover for Benjamin if you knew he was safe. So just tell me- is he?"
Amy pulled herself away from the intensity of his eyes. She hung her head slightly.
"Yes." She said quietly. "He's fine. Don't worry about him."
Ian glanced at her through his eyelashes.
"What did you do?" He asked, looking like someone who would cry if he still remembered how.
"I didn't do anything, Ian!" she exclaimed, her voice cracking only slightly on his name, "I just walked into Grace's room last night and he was in there with her. I didn't do anything."
Ian hung his head.
"I'm worried about them." He confessed.
Amy nodded her agreement.
"I don't want to force them to stay apart," she lamented, "but we both know they can't be together."
"Why not?" Ian asked, knowing exactly why.
"You know why not," Amy said intuitively. She bit her lip, "we could help them." She said after a beat.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, we could protect them. I don't know what's going to come out of this, this thing they have going on right now, but I want them to be able to make their own choices about where it goes."
"How do you propose we do that?" Ian asked.
"We do the impossible." Amy said grimly, "We keep a secret from Isabel Kabra."
...
"Tell me again how you managed to talk me into buying 5 pairs of jeans?"
"Because you love them, and it didn't take that much convincing."
"Right."
Benjamin and I were done in the change rooms (that sounded wrong. Let's ignore that.), and we were now aimlessly walking around wal-mart, looking for thinks that piqued our interest.
And then I saw it.
I whipped my arm out to stop Benjamin mid-sentence. "Benjamin."
"What?" he asked, before his eyes followed mine to the top of the high shelf we were standing in front of. "Oh." He said.
"Oh?" I demanded, "I show you a small slice of heaven and you say oh?"
"Oooh?" he tried.
"I want it." I deadpanned.
"Ok." He shrugged.
"Help me get it." I instructed.
"It's just a soccer ball," Benjamin said, "is it worth all the effort?"
"It is not just a soccer ball. It is a orange soccer ball. A freaking glittery orange soccer ball. If that's not the most amazing thing you've ever seen, then I have no idea what would be."
Benjamin sighed. "Ok then," he said, "how do you want to go about this?"
I studied the tall shelf.
"I can probably get to it if you give me a boost. Lace your fingers together and I'll put a foot on your hands"
Benjamin shook his head helplessly, but complied, lacing his fingers together to create a platform for me to stand on. I put an arm on his shoulder (which probably should have been awkward, but I didn't have time to think about awkward) and lifted my foot while he lowered his arms to make it easier for me. I grabbed the shelf at a lower part to steady myself, and Benjamin slowly raised me up.
I cautiously looked around at the store, now that I could see everything, to make sure nobody noticed me. My eyes swept across the children's department, the electronics, and the McDonald's.
Wait.
What?
I looked closely at the people in the McDonald's. The place was packed- moms with little kids, loitering teenagers, and, more importantly, a couple sitting in a booth. The woman had her back turned to me, but I could see her red hair. I'd never seen the man before, but I had seen Benjamin before, and he was the spitting image of him.
My mom was having lunch with Ian Kabra.
I stood frozen in place, like a deer caught in headlights, watching them. Neither of them smiled, and it seemed like they were done talking. Ian glanced up quickly, and I flinched, almost falling over before I grabbed onto the shelf- below me, Benjamin wobbled slightly.
"Retreat!" I hissed down at him. I risked another look at Ian, when I realized that he was staring at me, saying something absentmindedly to my mom. I gaped at him, waiting for him to sell me out to my mom, but he just blinked at me and went back to the conversation. My mom was smarter than that, though, and because I knew she would turn around after seeing Ian look in our direction, I raised my voice to repeat the demand.
Thanking God that Benjamin was trained just as well as I was, I jumped into the air, Benjamin's hands propelling me higher. Midair, I turned half way so that Benjamin could catch me bridal-style.
"Ok," I said, only panting a little, "That was pretty badass."
Benjamin smirked, "except you forgot your soccer ball on the shelf."
"GODDAMNIT!" I screeched, then quickly covered my mouth when I remembered who else was in the building. If we were close enough for Ian to see me, we were close enough for him to hear me. I grabbed Benjamin's arm and pulled him into the baby section, hiding behind a display of Huggies.
"Your dad's here." I whispered furiously.
I watched as Benjamin's eyes went huge and he looked frantically around. "Where?"
"He's at the McDonald's- I saw him... With my mom."
"What was he doing with your mom?"
"Do I want to know that? No. No I do not. Let's just leave while we can."
"Did he see you?"
"No." I lied.
Benjamin nodded. Silently, he checked his surroundings and started walking quickly through the aisles, with me right behind him. We weaved through the crowds of people without making a sound, until the exit was in sight. Unfortunately, that meant that the McDonald's was also in sight, because it was right beside the exit. Fortunately, neither Ian nor my mom were looking in our direction, so we took the opportunity to dart out the door.
We forgot that Benjamin was still wearing the jeans.
With the alarms blaring behind us, we sprinted to Benjamin's car. He jumped in and started it, barely giving me time to close the door before he zoomed out of the parking lot. Gripping onto the arm of the seat for dear life, we made our escape.
"I blame you." Benjamin said dryly after we had been going driving for a while, still speeding.
"Why me?" I demanded, "It's not my fault they were there!"
"No," Benjamin consented, "But it is your fault that I'm wearing the jeans. The jeans that directed all attention to us. They probably saw us. Because of the jeans."
"Well if we're blaming the jeans, then we should just go ahead and blame the Lucians for training you enough to make to completely freaking ripped, and then you wouldn't look that good in the jeans, and then none of this would have happened."
Benjamin grinned, "A- we sound like the first page of To Kill a Mockingbird," I laughed, "And B- you just admitted that you think my jeans are sexy."
I reddened, "Not explicitly." I said primly.
Benjamin chuckled and we drove in silence again for a while, until Benjamin broke it.
"You still didn't deny it." He said, laughter in his voice.