Author's Note: Last chapter, last chapter, la- WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT. It's NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! There's still ONE MORE! :) WOOOOO!
You're very graciously welcome ;)
Chapter Thirty
Fury
The room turned into a flurry of commotion once the verdict was reached. People were exiting here and there, but I stayed firmly planted where I was. I knew Angel and Gazzy were going to have to hop on the next available flight back to Arizona, and I probably wouldn't be seeing them for quite some time. This was most likely the only opportunity I had to say goodbye until they, or I, visited.
"How has everything been?" I inquired, curious. I hadn't gotten a lot of chances to talk with them since I moved back, so I was particularly interested in how they themselves had settled since my absence.
"Good. Glad that school's out," Gazzy replied, grinning impishly. I extended my hand to ruffle his hair, and he ducked out of reach. Oh, whoops. He wasn't eight anymore. It wasn't cool to do that.
"We all miss you," Angel piped in, her light blue eyes luminous. "Ella does, too. She was really mad that Aunt Val wouldn't let her come with us, but she said it wasn't a vacation and she wouldn't have any time to talk to you that much anyway."
"She was right," I agreed. "You guys are probably leaving soon."
As if on cue, Valencia approached, her conversation ending with Mr. Lebowitz. She placed a hand on Angel and Gazzy's shoulder, smiling at me tenderly. Motherly. I squirmed under the unfamiliar look. I was used to it coming, albeit mostly unwanted, from Rebecca. Not Val. This was still going to take some getting used to, that was for sure.
"Hey . . . Mom," I said faintly, unsure. Her brilliant smile told me I had done the right thing.
"I wish we could talk a little more, but we really need to go. I have to be at work tomorrow, so we need to catch our flight. I'm sorry," she apologized, completely sincere.
I nodded, accepting her hug. She then led Angel away, who turned and waved back at me. I returned the gesture, watching them go. Gazzy stayed at my side though, waiting until they had disappeared from the now mostly empty room before speaking.
"I want to stay with you," he stated brashly, no question in his tone.
"You what?" I demanded, brows furrowed. He seemed happy in Arizona. Had that changed since the time I left?
"I want to stay with you," he repeated, this time more insistently. "The only thing keeping Angel there is Mom, but I don't care about her. She might not be so bad anymore, but I can't forget what she's done. Every time I look at her I see one of her fits. I'm going crazy every time she enters a room. I want to live with you, again."
"Gazzy . . . I'd love that. I really would. But you need to get to know Rebecca better. You need to . . . give her a chance." I swallowed any desires I had to take back my words. As much as I didn't believe in second chances, I was learning that sometimes you had to extend them no matter how cloudy the outcome.
"I don't want to get to know her better! You didn't. You got to leave."
"One: I'm eighteen. I could leave whenever I wanted, and so can you when you're my age. Two: I left mostly because I found out she wasn't actually my mother. You're running out of excuses now," I insisted petulantly. I understood where he was coming from, but I wasn't going to take him away from his sister and mother. They would both be devastated.
He frowned, tucking his hands in his front pockets. "Do you not want me to live with you? Is that it? Are you happier without us?" he accused viciously, and I almost reeled backwards in shock.
"How could you think that?" I shouted, incredulous. "I hate being this far away from you two. But that's just how it's going to be for right now. I'm sorry."
Rebecca came through the doorway at that moment, searching. When her sights landed on Gazzy she motioned for him to hurry up, and his face set in a hard scowl. He glared at me before walking away, and there wasn't anything I could do but watch him go. This was one thing I didn't have control over. He didn't realize that I had a small apartment that was full enough, and I didn't even have a job yet. Maybe when I was more stable they could stay with me, but for now I was kicking it on my own.
The next person to approach was a surprise, mingled with hostility.
"What do you want, Jeb?" I asked scathingly, narrowing my eyes at him coldly. He had just tried to rip my family away after all this time, and now he was coming to have a pleasant conversation post trial? As if.
"I just wanted to see how you were doing," he answered honestly, his expression calm and serene; like he wasn't even affected by the outcome of today. It wasn't a shock to me that this was just a minor roadblock in his path.
"I'm just peachy, thanks," I replied sarcastically, wheedling my way under his skin. He didn't show any signs that he was affected by this, other than the tiniest tightening of his jaw. "Now get out of here. Get out of my life. You're not my father, after all."
"What makes you think that?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow all mysterious like.
I glared openly, defiant. "My mother wouldn't do that. She wouldn't sink so low."
"Maybe not intentionally, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her. While I know what I did was wrong in most people's eyes, both girls were my daughters. Making a small change didn't really hurt anybody."
I don't know why it came as such a shock; his words hitting me hard, like a battering ram. The hospital hadn't made a mistake at all. It had been him all along. He had switched the babies, when he realized the daughter his wife had given birth to was likely to die. If I really was his biological daughter as well, then to him it wouldn't have been a big deal to give Rebecca the one that was more likely to live, so that he could monitor my upbringing more closely than he could have if I had stayed with my real mother.
"You're a monster," I whispered shakily, unable to contain the quake of emotions roiling through me.
"I made you successful."
"I made myself successful. You can take no credit for that."
"I had your best intentions at heart," he insisted calmly. "I always did."
I gritted my teeth, clenching my hands into fists and pressing them closely to my sides. If I had to stare at his horrific mask for any longer I really couldn't be held liable for what I would do. Without saying another word I turned on my heel, stalking away from him and all the grief he had caused me. That part of my life was over, and I would make sure it stayed that way at all costs.
- }{ -
"He really is a miserable excuse for a human being," Fang agreed later that night, when I had mostly rid myself of Jeb's acidic toxins.
I had just finished explaining to him what I had figured out about my birth, and he seemed just as disgusted as I had been. How could any person with some semblance of a conscious do that? I didn't remember him being that cold hearted, especially early in my life. It seemed like now, even those few good memories were tarnished beyond repair.
"Can we talk about something else?" I pleaded, dropping my head into my hands tiredly. Fang pulled me closer to him from the other side of the couch, situating me against his chest. I made no objections, allowing him to drape his arms around my shoulders. He pressed his lips to the top of my head, running a lazy hand down my back.
"Sure," he responded with a shrug I couldn't see, but felt in the sloping of his shoulders.
The gentle hum of the air conditioner wafted through the silence that ensued, offset by the exact ticking of the clock marking the time that escaped us. I reveled in the empty quiet, letting it wash over me. It created a sense of peace that was long foreign to me. Eventually, all good things had to come to an end, though.
"I was thinking . . . about the whole fight incident," I started, and I felt him go as still as marble underneath me. It was obviously a bit of a touchy subject between us. "The guy said I was back for a rematch . . . and that made me realize that we never did have the one we agreed on."
After a beat of silence he said, "Is this really necessary?"
"Completely."
"Where would we even go? And are you planning this to be an audience sort of thing, or private?" Questions, questions, questions. He should know to trust me on this.
"Definitely private. I don't need a drunken crowd of horny men. I'm done with that, thanks. We could meet at Leroy's gym tomorrow," I suggested, twisting my head around to take in his expression. It was, as expected, mostly blank. He was raising a dark eyebrow at me though, his lips parted slightly.
"Tomorrow?"
"Best to get it over with as soon as possible, right?" I smiled cheekily.
He groaned, grimacing. "Whatever you want, Max. Whatever you want."
I went to sleep triumphant at the outcome of what started out as an incredibly stressful day.
I felt the soft blades of grass sifting between my fingertips, poking into the back of my legs as I sat amidst the lawn of green. My head tilted back, I took in the ring of trees prodding the crystalline blue sky. High above me the sound of tinkling laughter drifted all through the atmosphere, raining from the clouds like sweet teardrops. Birds wheeled in careening circles and loops in the sky, dark masses against the light.
Large birds. Very large birds. Abnormally so.
I could sense my gaze narrowing, squinting against the sunlight to get a better look. Now the winged creatures seemed to be chasing each other, rocketing through the atmosphere like it was water. My ears picked up the giggling more easily now, as it increased in noise and frequency.
Suddenly, one of the biggest dropped from the rest, seeming to descend in a complicated, beautiful spiral. I watched in awe as it got closer and closer, not believing my eyes at the sight I held before me. From this vantage point it appeared less and less like a regular bird, and more like a human . . . with wings.
"Fang?" I asked in a hushed whisper, dazzled by the . . . thing . . . standing before me, that wore the familiar face.
It was the same Fang I was accustomed to. Windswept, shaggy black hair. Tan skin. Dark eyes. Sinewy muscles. Dressed in onyx colored clothing. Normal everything. Except for the addition I could see sprouting from between his shoulder blades; a feathery mass that took the form of wings resting easily in the space there. They were the same obsidian of his eyes, exotic and surreal.
"Come on, Max," he urged, offering his hand. I accepted it hesitantly, and he lugged me to my feet. I stood, my legs tingling from lack of use. Standing, the clearing we were in seemed smaller.
"Come where?" I inquired, confused.
He smirked, using his index finger to point upwards.
"But . . . I can't," I insisted haltingly, shaking my head. As I spoke the other birds, though I was starting to question that the closer they came, began drifting nearer just as Fang had previously.
"Of course you can," he replied, placing a hand behind me. He touched something there that made my muscles twitch reflexively, and my jaw dropped when I realized there were wings quite similar to his protruding from my back as well. They appeared a little smaller though, and different colored.
"How did-?" I started to say in a dazed tone, but he cut me off.
"Now come on. The others want to play a game," he informed me, smiling crookedly. The gesture set butterflies loose in my stomach, forcing my lips to turn upwards in response.
"I . . . but I can't fly."
Just then the 'others' reached their destination, thumping to a halt on the ground, some more gracefully than others. I took in the extremely familiar faces, with extremely unusual sets of wings in varying shades and sizes for each. There was no mistaking Angel and Gazzy, or Nudge and Iggy. They were all here. My family.
My odd flock.
"Yeah you can," Fang said, breaking into my observations.
"No," I insisted reluctantly, "I can't."
"Max, all you have to do is trust your instincts. You know exactly what to do. Don't be scared," he murmured softly, his tone soothing as I stood, wide eyed.
I stepped back, watching with rapt attention as one by one they took off into the air once more. Fang stayed, hovering nearby in case I needed assistance. Which I would, because I didn't have any idea what I was doing. He didn't offer up any helpful hints though, simply staring at me blankly; waiting.
I shifted on my feet self consciously, glaring down at the grass. His previous words burned in the back of my mind, insistent that I take those first few steps. Besides, I had a tough girl reputation to uphold. Nobody needed to know how scared I was. I shouldn't have been. This was . . . nothing.
Yeah, right. This was everything.
Taking one last deep breath I squared my shoulders, mentally preparing myself for what could be complete and utter failure. I had to do as Fang said though, and trust my instincts. There was a growing rumble of feeling in the pit of my stomach. Need. I needed to touch those clouds, feel the wind kiss the feathers of my wings. It had escalated way past the realm of pitiful wanting.
Mimicking their moves I took a few quick steps, running into a leap that caused the ground to disappear beneath my feet. Before I could panic the wind caught my feathers, keeping me suspended. Concentrating I allowed my mind to take over, letting it make the commands to my limbs and extra appendages.
I was incredibly open to vulnerability at that point, unsure of what may lie ahead. Maybe absolute and total loss of control. Maybe fascination and elation at what I had accomplished. What was important was trusting myself, and not letting the fear of getting hurt stop me from taking chances that may be well worth it in the end.
It was then, as I raised higher and higher into the air, that I realized I was dreaming. All the little puzzle pieces of my cryptic wing dreams from before seemed to fall into place at that moment. This is what it had been all about. My subconscious had been trying to give me a subliminal message all along.
Now, in hindsight of that, I had learned how to fly.
I rolled over onto my back, moaning tiredly. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I glanced at the clock, then again more sharply as I took in the blocky numbers flashing there. It was already twelve in the afternoon. Sitting up quickly I threw my covers off, stumbling into the living room. The apartment was empty though, Fang nowhere in sight. Then I remembered he had gone back to Iggy's last night, and I was able to calm myself somewhat.
Then I recalled that we were meeting at Leroy's gym at one, and I didn't exactly have a lot of time to get there.
Cursing myself for sleeping in so late I practically tripped over my own feet as I hurried to the bathroom. After brushing my teeth and running a quick comb through my hair, I tossed it up into a ponytail. I was halfway out the door before I realized I still had my pajamas on. Gee, I was a mess this morning . . . or afternoon, I guess.
I backtracked, changing into shorts and a t-shirt haphazardly. I paused for a breath, making sure I was all accounted for. When I was absolutely positive that I wasn't forgetting anything, I made my way out the door once more.
The walk was peaceful, though much more tiring than I had remembered. Possibly because since Fang, I hadn't really had to go anywhere on foot. He always drove. Which just brought up the recurring idea that I needed a car of my own. After getting used to the luxury, I didn't think I was quite ready to go back to relying only on myself to get me where I needed to go. Plus it was incredibly time consuming at that.
Even so, I was about fifteen minutes early.
I approached the old, familiar building cautiously. The windows were so musty and caked in grime you couldn't see through them, and one was even cracked like a spider web. My brow continued to furrow as I examined the outside, taking note of the twisted hinge on the door and the sad state of the awning above it. This wasn't how I had left it, that was for sure. Then it had been in a better state than ever, but it seemed that at some point it had taken a turn for the worse. Way worse.
The door stuck when I tugged on it, and I had to press my shoulder against it and use all my strength to pry it open. The inside was in an even sorrier shape than I would have anticipated. The tiles were loose from the concrete beneath, some missing entirely. The equipment looked like it hadn't been used in years, so much rust and dust had accumulated on their surfaces. The stench permeating from every square inch of space was even worse, making my eyes water and my nose wrinkle in disgust. It smelled like death and decay.
Slowly I wound my way through the room, my frown deepening the more I saw. The lights were flickering above me, dim, but casting enough illumination to see by. That must mean somebody was here, right? That's why the boxing ring was such a beacon, standing out from the rest of the dismal space like a shining jewel amongst dirt encrusted pebbles. Bright spotlights shone on the arena, basking it in a fluorescent light that almost made my eyes hurt.
I ducked under the ropes, squinting. Memories from my time spent here with Jared flooded my brain, making my heart beat painfully in my chest. So much had been going on, that I hadn't had a lot of time to think about him. Missing him was one thing that had never gone away, though. And never would, that I was sure of.
In the distance my ears pricked at the sound of a steady thumping, like footsteps. I turned my body towards the sound, trying to see into the shadows. The overwhelming light surrounding me blocked out the rest, making it nearly impossible to see anything beyond the fringe of the worn and yellowed ring. Paranoia tickled at my senses, and I realized how dumb it was to come here. This was one of the worst parts of town, and there was possibly a killer after me.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
"Fang?" I asked, hopefully.
The steps ceased, but there was no response.
"This isn't funny," I insisted, my voice remaining mostly steady as I projected it into the large, open room. "Is that you, Fang?"
Step . . . Step . . . Step . . . Stop . . . Voice.
"Last time I checked, no," the person said gruffly, their voice sounding rough and weathered. Familiar though. Almost like . . .
"Leroy?" I demanded with a grin, peering more insistently into the darkness now. A ripple of movement caught my eye, and in the next second the tall, burly man was heaving himself into the ring beside me. His hair was even longer now, pulled back behind his head. He was as unshaven as I remembered, his beady eyes just as unsettling.
"This was easier than I thought it was going to be," he muttered, seemingly to himself. I ignored it, moving on to something more interesting.
"You really let this place go, didn't you?" I asked, smirking as I gestured around me. His expression didn't change much. I couldn't be sure, of course, but his eyes seemed to darken imperceptibly; something that wasn't generally good.
He watched me petulantly for a moment, like he was calculating something. Before I could remark on it, he was already speaking.
"Didn't you ever wonder why I let one of the highest known street fighters work for me?"
Bizarre question, but alright.
"Because I was one of the highest known street fighters?" I answered sarcastically, then: "I just figured you saw how much I needed the job. You aren't as tough as you look, really. Inside you have a good heart."
He continued on as if I hadn't spoken, making me think that it might have been more of a rhetorical question. "I saw myself in you. Young. Strong. Ready to take on whoever came across their path to glory. I helped you when no one else would. You wouldn't have survived without my money . . . and how do you repay me? By abandoning the gym and everything about your past life, it seems. Including me. Look at what you've done."
His growl forced me to notice how close he was getting, drifting towards me with his hulking form. This entire situation was becoming much more dangerous than I could have anticipated. He blamed me for his downfall?
"Of course that Jared was always getting in the way, digging up the past. Thankfully he didn't get to you before he was taken care of, but it didn't much matter in the end. You left just like everybody else."
"You killed Jared?" I demanded, suddenly hostile. My vision filled with red, my lips settling into a terrifying snarl that barely seemed to faze him. In fact, he looked more amused than anything.
"I didn't. Not personally at least. I initiated the orders, of course. Made the plans. It was really a brilliant masterpiece. I am sorry about that. I know how much you loved him . . . but sometimes meddlesome people need to be removed from the picture," he explained with a sly grin that made my fingers curl in agitation. "When the fire didn't kill him I had to get . . . creative. The other two were an added bonus. Such a pity for you, though."
"You son of a-" I growled.
"You, on the other hand, were much harder. Anytime my assassins, shall you say, got close you always managed to get away. Then I couldn't even pull a wonderful hospital stunt like with your friend, because there was always somebody at your side. Especially that dark boy. Is that who you called for before? Fang?"
I didn't have time to react before his large, dirty hand encased my throat. I gasped, choking. He lifted me off the ground with surprising strength, my feet dangling in the air. As breathing became harder and harder I knew I had to do something, and fast. With my vision tunneling I snapped out a hard kick to his shin, catching him by surprise. He immediately dropped me, and I landed in a crumpled, heaving heap on the ground.
With a sound somewhere between a scream of fury and a growl he launched at me, and I rolled effectively out of his reach. Rubbing my throat for a moment I rocked back on my haunches, glaring as he snarled at me from a few feet away. When he took a step I jumped, leaping through the air. I landed behind him, and before he could spin around I clobbered him in the back of the head, elbowing his spine. He bent over, stunned at what I'm sure was immense pain rocketing up his back.
"Had enough?"
My question was answered as he roared back to a standing position, looking like the Incredible Hulk suddenly transforming. My eyes widened as I was buffeted by his angry fists. I did my best to dodge out of the way. I was much quicker than him, but he was also stronger. One punch landed hard into the soft skin of my stomach, and I couldn't stop my knees from crumpling. I dropped to the floor, and he wasted no time.
I screamed once. Damn whoever created knives. They were going to be the death of me. Quite literally.
Author's Note: ONCE AGAIN, in case you happened to skip the AN above and are incredibly confused by this, THERE'S STILL ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT. Yaaay!
P.S. Who's celebrating that there's still more to come? :)