Disclaimer: Not mine, other than my own story and my character. Whom I hope you've liked, because this will be ending soon, probably in the next chapter. D:

Chapter 16: Me, Myself and I

Anastasia
oOo

Location: The Mansion, Crows Landing, FL
City Population: Unknown
Current time: 12:13 a.m.
Current date: September 3, 2013
Current alias: None

"That was me." The voice sounded so distant that I wasn't sure where it came from until I saw everyone's eyes on me. Except Clara, who was still sobbing into my shirt. "That was me, the assassin. I killed people and I wasn't supposed to choke, but I did. I ran away from my only home when I was sixteen, didn't I? I hid for five years until Black found me and took me to you. It's all right here." I took a free hand and pointed to my head. "I remember it all."

Everybody else was outside now. There were people, people, people and it was all pressure, pressure, pressure, and I wasn't quite sure what to do.

I turned to Dylan, standing and heaving Clara onto my waist, keeping it off the scars that were still healing there. "Tell me something. Anything about me before the whole wrist stuff and memory and hanging from ceilings thing."

He looked at me like he was still comprehending, possibly thinking that I was making it up. "Uh… you hate milk chocolate. I sent you a pack and you never ate it."

The memory was instantaneous. "It was shaped like a bird, and it was hollow. I thought it should be a bunny because they were cuter. I tried it, decided I hated milk chocolate, but I left it on my bedside for the longest time because I was afraid that you would never give me anything else ever again." Henley was next. "You. Tell me something about me."

"You wake up at insane hours of the morning so that you can drink a root beer - though you say you'd prefer a god bottle of regular beer ever now and then - so you can get a kick in the mornings without waking the entire house full of late sleepers up."

"Except for you-you woke up early that very day and I told you about the woman with the little girl and the blanket and the note." She nodded, but I was already on to Merritt. "Merritt, you don't count. You're a mentalist."

"I don't care, I'll tell you something anyways." The old me must have known that this was typical Merritt. "You love Shakespeare. Your favorite play is… Romeo and Juliet? No, Much Ado About Nothing." I smiled-it was more of a grin-and took a breath before finally reaching Jack. I didn't say anything, but he seemed to read my mind better than Merritt ever could.

"Your favorite color is purple, but you always wear black." I allowed Clara to hug around my neck and push her head into my collar bone, though she was no longer crying and I knew she was listening to everything. "You can't stand too-tight shirts. You alway put whipped cream and cinnamon on your hot chocolate, and you make it ¾ regular and ¼ Mayan chocolate you got from some little store in North Carolina," he stated with assurance. "And you're running mighty low on it, which you complain about every time you use it."

It was all still coming back, still going strong. Everything took me a minute to compute, but I knew he was right about each little thing. I trusted him to be. "You never use a ruler when you draw a line and you get annoyed when it's not straight. You rearrange your closet every day even though you only have, like, four things hanging up in there, and you always sleep in the clothes you're going to wear tomorrow," he said, gesturing to my outfit. "Whenever you eat a Babybell cheese, the ones with the wax on them?" I nodded in understanding as I remembered.

"I always make the wax into perfect cubes."

"Even if it takes you a half hour," he finished.

I smiled at him a smile I never thought would ever be able to fit on my face. Clara shrieked and her leg flung violently, causing me to jump and readjust so she wouldn't slip and fall and crack her head open. It was only then that I noticed something vibrating heavily in my pocket. I shifted the child's weight easily onto one arm in order to pick the phone out, and without thinking flicked SLIDE TO ANSWER.

"Who be you?" Everybody chuckled-I always answered the phone like that, I rembered-and I was beginning to wonder why I would have even though it would be a good idea to take the call at a time like this. "How may I be of service?"

"Feeling better, love?" The deep voice far off sounded.

"Black!" I bounced on the balls of my feet, but I wasn't sure whether from happiness or curiosity at the hesitation on his voice. "You haven't been to see me. Are you doing okay?"

"I've got no time for games, Anastasia. This is you and me now."

My face suddenly was occupied by a confused expression. "Black, what the hell are talking about? I just got my memory back and-" And suddenly, it clicked. "He's got you, doesn't he?" I whispered, trying to keep people from hearing.

I turned in a circle, my eyes scanning the dark for some way he could have seen me. He had to have seem me, to know exactly when to call me because now I had my memory back. Obviously I hadn't done well with not letting people hear me because Dylan and Conlin had drawn their handy FBI handguns and were pointing them out to various places, standing back to back. Helen ran to the car to grab hers and signaled something about a perimeter check.

"How can you see me, Diablo?"

Black's voice was still the one that answered. "I can't." I felt an arm around my shoulder, and suddenly my head was craned to look up at the side of Jack's face, still significantly taller than me, glancing around worriedly and looking for all the world like he would take a bullet for any one of us. "But my son can." It was odd hearing this coming from Black himself, though I knew that Diablo was telling him what to say.

There was a rustle of leaves and a snap of twigs and then Black was coming out of the woods to the side of the house, arms held slightly off his sides, like he was avoiding touching something. He wore a thick jacket and a headset over his ears, and my brain allowed it all to fall into place.

I turned to Dylan and held a hand over the mouthpiece. Bomb, I mouthed to him. But my big brother was already on it, taking out a phone.

Black turned to him. "You take out that phone and punch one button," he relayed, "I hit one of my own and everybody within a one mile radius goes boom. Cinders. Ashes. Because that's how I do things."

Black's face was a mask as I spoke into my phone again, knowing full well that it had been bugged. How could any one of us, especially me, have been so stupid as not to check? And the Horsemen had done it to my big brother, so why hadn't they checked-I knew that escape had been to easy. Of course he had something bigger planned.

"Black, are you alright?" I asked. He merely nodded a small nod in response. But it was comfort all the same. "Diablo, what do you want from me? You can't possibly hurt me any more than you already have."

We both knew this was a lie. He was just the first to admit it. "I push this button, and all the people you've ever cared about will be blown up. Splashes of blood and charred flesh all over your perfectly manicured lawn." My eyes widened and began to sting at the thought, my throat involuntarily swallowing the lump it contained. I felt Jack tug me as close to his body as he possibly could. My whole side where his arm touched me would have been tingling from simply the contact, but I could only feel the fear coursing through my body. Reflecting his own emotions as well, I suspected. Why could I not hide them anymore like he could?

"What would that do for you? I'd just be dead right along with them. It'd be no more hurt."

"Ah, but you believe in Heaven and Hell." Eyes narrowed and teeth ground together. "And you'd be the one in Hell while all the rest of them went to be angels of God. You know it's true, you monster. They had reasons to do what they did. You simply killed because you had a thirst for blood, for power, for knowing that you would live longer than that life you took and that you were better."

I shuttered, my old inner commentary coming back to haunt me. All eyes were flicking from Black to me and back, with the exception of the ones with guns. "Because you were better. The best we had, Anastasia. And we could win, with you back here. You and Black, you know you've got something, something special that nobody can compete with, especially not that shallow boy trying to save you." I felt Jack stiffen and rock on his feet, a nervous habit I noticed he had obtained more or less recently. "And we need you. Come back with us, train again, teach our new ones how to fight just like you do. You did it with the Horsemen. Why not with The Caste?"

His words were coated with honey, and I knew Diablo had forced Black to do that because he knew what Black could do: hypnotism with the occasional telepathic tendencies. But like he said, I was better. I knew better. Black wasn't trying to hypnotize me... In fact, he was trying to keep me away. And Diablo had no idea that his own son was not afraid of dying in order to save more than just his own life. Mine, the Horsemen's, everybody. But it didn't just come down to him.

It came down to my answer: a yes or a no.

"I could press this button any time, Anastasia, and you would never see them again in your special spot at the Devil's feet."

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Think, think, think. Plan, plan, plan. Think about weaknesses and strengths, pros and cons.

"You press that button, I won't be able to make you a deal," I finally managed, loud and clear. Oh, dear God, what did I just do?

"Anastasia, what are you doing? You'll get yourself killed!" Jack hissed.

I looked up into those doe eyes, wanting to just stand and stare and never leave, knowing that after this I may never see him again. No. I would never see him again. Whether I saved the day and went back to Diablo or got us all killed. Either way, I would never see any of them again.

I had at some point set Clara down, and at some point Helen had come back and was holding her similarly to how I had been, and was telling her that everything was gonna be okay. It would be fine. I wondered if Clara was buying it. But I was here, now, and I had what comfort I had.

I finally answered Jack. "It's better than getting all of you killed. Especially you," I added on so quietly I hoped he hadn't heard.

I stepped away for him when his arm fell from my shoulders in shock, which gave me just enough time to brush past everybody and stand right in front of Black, though all the rest of them were shouting at me to come back. I held a free finger out to them behind me, trying to get them to shut up and hear my one last act of bravery. I vowed to myself then and there that this would not end in their deaths. Any of them.

"Fight," I said. "I'll fight Black to the death. If he wins, Wilder tells you where I keep my notebook. All my ideas, all my thoughts, all my fight sequences and designs for new equipment and heists to pull off anywhere else in the world you could possibly think of. And you let them all go, including Black." I took a much-needed breath in an attempt to calm my nerves now trying to fire up before continuing. "However, if I kill Black and I win, I'll go with you, still with the notebook. You leave them all alone and you disable that bomb. Either way, this makes it a win-win situation for your high and mighty self."

"Why does it matter who wins? Either way I get what I need, despite the bomb part of that plan."

"Because you love a good fight, and I guarantee it will be worth it, whichever one wins."

"Anastasia, don't do this…" I heard whispered behind me, presumably Dylan. I ignored him, watching Black for a sign. What for? I wasn't quite sure. Maybe I was just anxious for an answer, or maybe I was just hoping that he would disagree and come up with something that didn't result in an ambulance and a body bag. Or several.

Diablo pondered my proposal for so long that even Black looked as though he wondered whether something had happened, or the connection and dropped or... He finally answered. "On one condition."

"Shoot," I responded, scared and hopeful at the same time.

"You fight me, instead," Black said slowly, clearly wishing he wouldn't be blown up if he said something different or protested in any way.

I took no time to make my decision. "I accept."