Story Two – Elliot Stewart

Part 1

Ten

The summers in Miami were always very humid and very hot, the kind of heat that made a person not want to do anything. However, as hot as it was, Miami was most beautiful during the summer. Especially near the white sandy beaches and swaying palm trees, there one could at least find a nice ocean breeze to cool you down—and of course the water itself did a fine job as well.

South Beach in particular was pretty buzzing around hot days like this. The sun and surf dragged in a lot of people, locals and tourists alike. It was here that a young boy took the liberty to lay himself out on the concrete wall off to the side of the boardwalk, the latest copy of Hot Rod magazine held in front of his pale face, in both interest and to block out the harmful sunrays. His deep chocolate brown eyes scanned the newest model of the ever so popular Pontiac.

"Elli!" a voice sounded from the distance. "Elliot!" It called variations of the name as it grew closer. Though hearing this, it wasn't until the fourth or fifth call that Elliot sighed and slowly pushed himself up, tucking the magazine under his arm. He squinted at the harsh sunlight hitting his eyes, having a hard time making out the figure coming through the moving crowd. "Elliot!" A small blond third grade boy huffed breathlessly, coming to a stop a few inches away.

"Did you run all the way from the house?" Elliot asked his younger brother, the frown on his face deepening. The youngling was usually like that. Whenever he when down to the beach to relax, Benjamin always ran up to him with something he found ground breaking. Their home wasn't beach front property, but it was close enough to walk. Even so, Benjamin wasn't supposed to walk the streets by himself, their father barely them he himself do it.

Ben nodded quickly, "Yeah." Taking one last breath, the boy grinned his ocean blue eyes sparkling, "Look at this!" He motioned toward his swim trunks where a small lump of fur poked out, "Dad brought it home!"

Elliot peered uninterestedly at the small golden animal, unaffected by the cute way it sniffed around with its eyes still closed, "He got you a rat?"

His brother pouted, "No! It's a puppy!" He held the fur ball up to the older boy's face and grinned wider, "She's for both of us."

Elliot didn't look as excited as his brother, which—if one knew him well enough—was understandable. He had never been an animal person, especially when it came to dogs.

Dogs were affectionate creatures, but Elli wasn't really an affectionate kid. He was overly mature for his age and didn't have many friends due to his anti-social nature. It was sad in a way, while all the other kids goofed off, he kept to himself. He'd rather read or nap than make friends… not that he didn't have any, he just didn't have many. "What do you mean 'our'? I don't want it, you can have it."

Not paying attention to his brother's rejection of the dog, Benjamin sat down next to him and cradled the puppy in his lap, "What should we name her?"

"Rat."

Ben glared, "Seriously! A good name."

Elliot sighed and scratched the back of his head, "I don't know… you name her."

"Hmmm…" lifting the puppy up he stared at its closed eyes, doing his best to concentrate. He smiled as an idea struck him and turned to his elder brother merrily, "We'll call her Molly!"

"Ah." He agreed with a slight nod, turning his attention back to his magazine. He didn't really care what they called the thing.

Fifteen.

Elliot tuned out the repetitive voice of his Pre-Calculus teacher ranting about the class not remembering the required basic algebra skills needed for the course. He knew the material inside and out and he didn't want to waste his time listening to an old hag when he already knew what to do. It was like that in most of his classes.

Elliot had learned everything at an early age and was a grade or two ahead of the others his age. He wouldn't go so far as too call himself a genius, but he didn't doubt his intelligence and he was confident that he could pass a test without the help of nagging old women with thick-rimmed glasses.

So instead he glanced out the window, letting his mind wander through the clouds.

"Pssssst!" An annoying hiss called to him from his right, breaking the peaceful composure he'd so skillful set up around him. "Psssssssst!"

Exhaling Elliot glanced over to the source of the noise—his self-proclaimed 'Best Friend', Smithy. "What?"

"I found us another one. You probably know it. It's that '95 Corolla that grumpy ol' Mr. Henry owns."

He snorted, "That old thing?"

"What? It'll make good scrap metal. Plus I hear there's something real good under the hood."

The cynical young man rested his head in his hand and raised an eyebrow, "Now that I think about it, doesn't Henry own a gun?"

"So?" A devious grin formed, "You scared?"

Anyone knew Elliot had a big ego, he wouldn't let someone as full of it as Smithy was get away with saying shit like that. "Heh." The brunette couldn't help up smirk, "Nah, but life just got a whole lot interesting."

The two were interrupted by the clearing of a feminine throat, "Mr. Stewart and Mr. Jones, is what you have to say more important than my lesson?"

"No ma'am." Smithy chuckled, leaning back and flashing her a cheesy smile.

"Good, because Mr. Stewart may be passing the class with remarkable grades, but you Smithy are falling behind." She reprimanded, turning back around to the board.

xXx

"Alright there it is buddy." Smithy smiled pointing to a rusting deep red corolla catching dust in a cracked driveway.

From behind a dry, overgrown shrub Elliot scanned the surrounding area. Old Henry lived in a cul-de-sac of sorts which put the two on extra alert. Cul-de-sac's were usually filled with noisy neighbors that liked to getting into everybody's business. He noticed, however, that though due to the untamed lawn and high picket fence the closely placed houses weren't too much of a problem. The teen took a relaxed breath. It defiantly made his job much easier. His eyes then gave the house a once over, "Looks like the old fart is in the living room watching the game…"

"Should be. He's always watching the same recording at the same time every Friday—like a damn ritual. You would think for once I'd find someone interesting to stake out." He grumbled begrudgingly.

Smithy had watched the old man's routine for a little over a few weeks due to the unique situation. Usually it was easy to find a time when the car owner was gone, whether it be on a date or at work but this guy was an ex-marine who'd gotten injured permanently in his left leg. He didn't leave his property much because of his limp, so he twenty-two year old daughter came by every few weeks to give him some groceries. Smithy figured that the old corolla was a waste to just leave in the driveway. If he wasn't going to use it what did he have it for?

That was pretty much the motive behind all of the boys' heists. When Smithy saw a car that someone didn't use much and didn't rely on it, he marked it as a target. He'd watch the owner's routine and find the easiest time to obtain it—though many times he'd predict wrong—and then Elliot used his amazing skills of stealth and intelligence to break in to the vehicle without setting off the alarm and make a quick getaway. It also wouldn't hurt to point out that the brunette had some badass skills behind the wheel, which was saying something because technically he wasn't licensed to drive yet. In contrast, Smithy was much better at both fixing and admiring cars than driving them.

After a car was stolen, they'd quickly sell it off as scrap and possibly keep a few parts or two. They planned to use the money to save up and build a car fast enough to show off at the rallies held downtown. They were both into earning quick money and since there was a lot of betting that took place down there, they figured it wouldn't hurt to give it a shot. The plan was basically, get money to get a car and then enter races to get more money to make the car better so that more money could be won. Elliot would be the one driving of course, Smithy was more of the technical support kind of guy. Not only did he have an eye for what made a car run its best, but he was good with his hands. The two were basically a dynamic duo in the making.

"Be on guard. The walls are thin so once I start up the engine he'll probably hear it. We'll have to be extra quick about it." Elliot deduced, pulling the bandana further up his nose before adjusting his cap.

Smithy handed him a prybar, "Alright. Let's just get this over and done with. I'm hungry." He joked, staying behind to watch as the brunette hopped up from their hiding place and broke into a crouching sprint toward the trunk of the car.

Sliding the prybar into the trunk's opening, Elliot applied pressure with one quick downward motion and let the trunk pop open softly, catching it before it swung back fully. Smirking he slid into the opening before kicking in the backseat of the car and quickly making his way to the driver's seat, making sure to unlock the car door to allow Smithy to less-than-stealthy slip in.

Elliot went to work removing the ignition cover and pulling out the correct wires from the cylinder. It wasn't the first time he'd hotwired a car and so he wasn't too phased by the pressure being put on him as Smithy's leg bounced up and down—a nervous habit he'd had since they were kids.

The engine grinded briefly before cutting off and Elliot 'tsked' fiddling a bit more with the wires. The noise was loud enough to be heard from the house and the two soon heard the muffed cursing of Old Henry scrambling to his feet.

Smithy tensed, "Dude. You might want to hurry that up…"

"Chill, the car's been sitting here for a while. I almost…—Got it." The engine growled and Smithy let out a sigh of relief as the brunette put the car in reverse.

Just as the vehicle began to back out, two warnings were heard out of Henry's shotgun was he hobbled out his front door—the first hitting the concrete just short of the car and the second shattering the tail light. "Hey! Hey! Ya damn kids!" the old foggy grumbled shaking the gun in the air as his precious corolla sped down the street, the open trunk flapping madly behind before slamming shut.

"Holy shit!" Smithy laughed, falling back into the leather seat.

The driver beside him chuckled a bit to himself—an action he didn't do much, "Berny's gonna be pissed about the light…"

xXx

"Where the hell have you been?" Mr. Stewart questioned from his black suede seat, a copy of sports illustrated resting in his lap. He'd waited all night for his son to get home, just like every other night. It'd become a bit of a routine for the two. It used to end with Elliot getting grounded, but that didn't work so the man had started to try lecturing… not that it helped.

Elliot sighed giving a tired, "Hello to you too Dad…" as he closed the front door.

His father pulled off his reading glasses, a hand running through his greying blond hair, "Do you know what time it is?" He answered his own question quickly before the teen had a chance to answer. "Midnight—Twelve o'four to be exact. Where were you?"

The brunette yawned, "The garage. If you've forgotten I work there."

"Till midnight? On a school night? What kind of boss lets his teenage employee work that late?" He scoffed leaning forward.

"It's called overtime—and what does it matter? I've always done well in school and you were the one that told me to get a job."

"Don't be a smartass." Mr. Stewart snapped before nodding over to the couch, "Sit down." Elliot didn't move at first, but after a stern "Now" he plopped down begrudgingly. "Elliot, what do you do with your time? As soon as you get home from school you go out, you come home past curfew, and don't get me started about the weekends. Your mother's worried for you and Benjamin misses you." His jaw tightened, "You need to spend more time with your family."

Though it didn't seem like it through the man's hard expression, he was concerned for his son. For all he knew, the boy could be about impregnating women or getting high off mushrooms. Elliot may have been a smart kid, but he didn't like follow orders and it was hard to keep tabs on him. Not to mention the boy had one hell of a poker face. It made it difficult to connect with him. Mr. Stewart just couldn't read him and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

When Elliot didn't give anything but a black stare as a response he was sent away with a wave of the hand. As he passed he caught his father sigh a light, "What are we going to do with you?"

Sixteen.

Elliot paused briefly at the entrance of Berny's garage. He felt as if something was off. The normal sound of cutting metal and the smell of oil were not present. It was… off putting.

Slowly setting his heavy duffle bag down in a chair, the young man stepped further into the shop, "Yo, Bern? Smithy?"

Someone tripped over a bucket and stumbled out into the open—it was Smithy, a big smile prominent on his face. "Dude, come out back. You're gonna love this."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Elliot followed the clumsy fool toward the back door of the building.

"Remember that dream about getting a race worthy kickass car?" The buffoon grinned, letting the question hang as he pushed the door open to reveal the ever to charming Berny Biggins playing under the hood of the most ridiculous car he'd ever seen.

Elliot shoved his hands in his pockets and stared quizzically at the vehicle before giving Smithy a hard stare. The car didn't exactly scream 'kick-ass', it was dented in the bumper, the tail light was broken, and hot pink wasn't necessarily the most manly color in the world… even if it was covered in dust and dirt.

A snort came from under the hood of the car before it became a full eruption of heavy, hardy laughter. Bernie stepped back a hand resting on his plump gut. "I… I'm sorry. Ha! I just can't hold it in anymore…" he gasped though his laughs and held up a finger, "You haven't seen the best part yet." Opening up the driver's side door the big man hit the horn and the sound of meowing kittens filled the lot.

Smithy covered his mouth to without his laughter in an attempt to keep a serious face… the attempt failed of course.

"You wasted our money on a pink pussy?" the brunette growled, the nickname earning a chuckle from Bern.

Smithy held up his hands in defense, "Woah, woah. Calm down. What matters is what's on the inside. It's got a megaflow exhaust system, splinter chrome plated rims, and check this out," he nodded over toward hood of the car. Elliot stepped beside Berny and glanced in. He was surprised to find a V-8 engine that—with some work—could end up pushing out some pretty good horsepower. "With some good cleaning and a few tweaks we could use those parts. The girl I bought it from probably didn't even know what she had, I got it for a really nice penny."

Berny stepped in to finished the explanation, "Imma let you boys take that ol' mustang that's sitting in the back of the garage for god knows how long. The owner died and no one's come to claim it. I'll take this pink… thing… for the parts. Sound like a good trade?"

Elliot took a moment to mull it over before nodding thoughtfully, "Yeah… sounds like a plan."

xXx

A lime green Ford Mustang pulled up the driveway of the Stewart household, it's black racing stripes catching the attention of young Benjamin who was playing with Molly. Gaping at the vehicle, his mouth dropped even further when Elliot stepped out of the car in all his smugness.

"Woah…" the young lad complimented running up to his older brother, a peppy Molly following close behind. "Elli, is that your car?"

"Yeah." He confirmed, shutting the car door.

"Sweet, It looks awesome!" The blond smiled, hopping a bit in excitement. "Do you think I can ride in it some time?"

Elliot sighed and patted the boy's head, "We'll see."

Benjamin gave a cute boy-ish grin, "Promise?"

He nodded.

The youngling let out a happy shout of joy and proceed to look for the car as a brunette woman in her late 30's stepped out of the house, a pleasantly surprised look on her face, "Now… I know that the boy standing over there couldn't be my handsome first-born because he's much too busy to spend some time in a dinky place like this." A hint of sarcasm running though her words as she placed a hand on her hip.

Elliot didn't didn't bother to point out they'd seen each other just this morning, instead he gave her a tired, "Hey Mom."

They met each other at the bottom of the stoop and she smiled grabbing him into a hug, "You don't have anything planned today, do you?"

He hugged her back, "Not at the moment."

She pulled back to look up at him, he stood a few inches taller than she did. "Good. Then do you think you could spare some of that free time with me and Benjy?" Though her voice sounded sweet, the glint in her eyes told him there was no room for him to deny her will.

"Not like you going to give me a choice…"

Her smile widened and she patted him on the cheek, "Good boy. I taught you well." She glanced over at Eliot's new car and raised an eyebrow. "Is that yours?"

He followed her eyes and nodded, "Smithy's too."

She raised both eyebrows when he pointed this out, "Don't tell your father that…" she warned out of ear shot from her younger son.

"I know." His father pegged Smithy as a troublemaker and didn't like Elliot hanging out with him, "Where is… father."

"Work. He's on overtime again." She rubbed his arm, "Come one inside. I made cookies." She spoke loud enough for both boys to hear her before making her way inside.

Elliot grimaced slightly and gave Benjamin a worried look as the boy ran up alongside him. The blond caught the look and cupped his hand over his mouth to whisper, "She's joking. She bought them."

Mrs. Stewart wasn't the best cook in the world… in fact she was quiet horrible.

xXx

"What?" Smithy exclaimed jumping off the couch, the game controller dangerously close from tumbling out his palms.

"Five to one." Elliot chimed casually hiding a smirk behind his glass of soda.

"Rematch!" He declared hotly, pointing the handle of his controller a few inches from the boy's face.

"Alright," the brunette shrugged simply, taking a sip of soda before setting it down on an end table. "but I don't know why you insist on going against me."

Plopping back down on the couch, the rowdy boy went through the game's settings, "Screw you." He grumbled, "There should be a limit to your damn skills… it's not even a real race and your kicking my ass!"

"Well, if you can't even pass your driver's test what makes you think you'll do any good in a game?"

"Because it's a game." He retorted hotly, flipping through the car choices.

"The game and real life hold the same principles that you seem to fail at." Elliot explained, making his choice next.

"What are you squirts up to?" A voice questioned from behind the couch. Neither of the two had to turn around to know who it was.

"I thought you were going out with Marsha, Paul?" Smithy asked starting the game.

Paul Jones was Smithy's elder brother and five years older. He was an ex-jock that hadn't put his high school glory days behind him. Not only was he a bit of an ass, but he was pretty stupid too.

Elliot didn't like him much.

"Nah, her girlfriends got tickets to see some damn chick flick." He swung his legs over the couch and plopped down in between the two. Taking a gulp out of a half empty can of beer and belched, eyes staring uninterestedly at the screen. "You beating my brother's ass again?"

"Of course." The brunette stated simply, eyes fixated on the screen.

"Damn Smithy, you fucking suck." The big brother chuckled teasingly.

"Shut up, like your any better."

"Better than you." The young man gloated disrupting the game by pulling Smithy into a headlock.

"Dude what the fuck!" The pour soul groaned angrily, struggling to get free as his car crashed into a sidebar. "Quit it you ass!"

Elliot slid a little further down the couch, he didn't want to associate himself with the two's stupidity. They often started out this way before it became a full out brawl and the last time he'd been too close he walked away with a blackened eye.

Smithy slammed his fist into the elder boy's gut and only succeeded in getting the ex-linebacker angry. The goof took the few seconds he had when Paul let go to escape via vaulting over the couch, but his foot got caught on the back of the chair and he hit the floor face first. He then took too long to get up and gave Paul the chance to dive off the couch and elbow strike him, hard, before grabbing his leg and placing him in a sharpshooter.

"I give! I give!" Smithy pleaded trying to regain air from the first blow.

"That's what I thought pussy." Paul smirked getting off his brother.

Elliot leaned over the couch and glanced at the defeated sibling a glint of amusement in his eyes, "Six to one."

Smithy groaned.

xXx

The music thumped heavily, colorful lights pulsing like secures. No matter how many decorations they put up the school gym didn't look any different in Elliot's eyes.

"You just going to stand here all night?" Smithy asked coming back from his umpteenth time on the dance floor. "What'd you come for, buzzkill?" He joked with a playful smile.

"My mother made me." He explained loosening his tie. The dance was a formal event so his mother had gone out with his attire and bought a full suit—real tie and everything. Her motto was 'you only go to high school once, make it count.' Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

"Well, no use just standing here. Let loose for once." His eyes wandered back to the dance floor, "There's a lot of ladies that seem to be watching you." He snickered winking at a group of young ladies trying to look sexy in skimpy outfits that just miss breaking the dance's dress code.

"You can have them." He didn't feel like dealing with stupid broads that were easy.

"Really?" Smithy's eyes twinkle, it didn't take much effort to distract him when you wanted him to shut up... especially when women were involved. "Well if you say so~" He sang fixing his collar and heading over to the group as smoothly as he could.

Elliot rolled his eyes and slid his hands through his pockets. He wasn't really the partying type, crowds weren't his style. Too many people. Sighing he decided to sneak out the back door while Smithy was preoccupied. He needed some fresh air. It was starting to feel stuffy in there.

As soon as he was outside he felt much better. There was a cool breeze that pasted by and comforted his nerves with sweet whispers. He closed his eyes in satisfaction, maybe he'd stay out here for the rest of the dance. Way from preying eyes of the ladies that Smithy was so willing to court.

A light sniffle brought Elliot out of this thoughts and he opened her eyes to see a girl sitting on the sidewalk curb just a few feet away. Her face was silhouetted but he couldn't help but notice she was rather pretty. She wore a modest red halter and her dark brown hair was tied up, falling over her shoulder in curls like a waterfall. Elliot stared quizzically at her. She didn't seem like the type to stay outside while everyone else partied the night away.

"Hey." He called, he didn't know what possessed him to call out her, but he did.

The girl jumped slightly and whipped around, her blue eyes catching the light of the moon. Squinting, she rubbed at her teary eyes and tried to make out his shadowed figure. "What do you want?"

Elliot paused, what did he want? "You crying?"

Her eyes widen and she turned back around, "No."

"No?" He questioned, stepping a little closer into the light, there he saw the yellow highlights at the ends of her locks. "But you were going to."

"So?" she turned back to look at him and a look of resignation crossed her face. "You're that one guy." Elliot raised an eyebrow, "That hangs out with that guy… Smithy."

He wasn't surprised she knew the goofball, everybody did. If he had to guess his friend had probably hit on her or one of her friends before… It was a wonder how such a extroverted guy could find fun in hanging out with an introvert like himself. "Elliot." He corrected her, he didn't like being called 'that one guy'.

"Oh right…" she pushed a curl out away from her soft features, "I'm Ida. Nice to meet you, I guess."

"…nice to meet you."

xXx

"I didn't know you came here…" Ida hummed, taking a seat on the top of the bench's back.

"Not often." Was Ellitot's reply as he watched the morning crowd walk up and down the boardwalk. "I'm usually busy."

"With what?" she asked fixing the strap on her white bikini top.

"Work."

"What kind?" she questioned, unsatisfied with the vague answer.

"You sure ask a lot of questions…" he stated running hand through his hair.

"Well, you lack a lot of detail." She stated matter-of-factly, leaning on her arms. "You're not answering my question."

"You never answered mine." She gave him a confused look. "You never told me why you were crying—at the dance." He could tell she was still bothered by whatever it was and her frown at his words confirmed it.

Ida turned away slightly and stared at beach behind them, a light wind disturbing the hair resting on her shoulders. "Still on that?"

Elliot didn't answer.

She sighed. "I was ditched by my boyfriend. Long story short, I broke up with him."

"I see." He shifted in his seat, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"No you're not." She smiled knowingly, trying to rid her funky mood.

He shrugged.

"So about that job of yours."

"I'm in the car business. I work for a garage." Elliot explained, leaving out the details. Obviously it was something that shouldn't be talked about casually.

"Cool." She nodded, "So your into cars." It was more of a statement than a question. "Maybe you could tell me about them sometime?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Oh?"

"Yeah." She smiled.

Their moment was interrupted by a vibrating sound and Ida smiled apologetically, pulling out her cellphone. Giving it a glace she pouted a bit, "Looks like I've gotta get going." She explained, standing up and readjusting her jean shorts. "See ya around, k?"

Elliot nodded and gave her a lazy wave. The girl began to walk off but paused and turned back around, planting a kiss on Elliot's cheek. "Something to remember me by." She winked and quickly walked away.

xXx

Ida broke their kiss and smiled at him sweetly, "See you after class?"

Elliot nodded running a hand through her hair, "I'll wait by the gym."

She gave him another light smooch on the check, "Ok." Sadly, somewhere not too far away her name was called and she exhaled disappointly, "I've gotta go. Later." She patted him on the chest and strutted over to meet up with her friends.

Just as she left, Smithy appeared at Elliot's side as he watched her go. "You better be careful with that buddy…" he commented, shaking his head.

The brunette gave him a confused glance.

He elaborated, "I hear she's been going on and off with some guy and in between that she never stays with anyone longer than a few weeks."

Elliot rolled his eyes and began walking door the hall to their usual last period class, "You shouldn't listen to roomers."

Smithy exhaled, "Ok… but don't say I didn't warn you." He then smiled and gave his friend a good nudge, "I'm just glad to see you actually going out with someone… we were all beginning to think you were gay."

His comment was rewarded with a backhand to the stomach, "Shut up."

The goof let out an airless chuckle and grinned, "Just sayin'."

xXx

The date had started off rather well. The two of them had gone out for a movie and a bite to eat. There was a lot of laughing—on her part of course, he wasn't much of a laugher—and the occasional make out session behind a gumball machine or covered in the darkness of the theater, as he was never the public affection type. It wasn't until it was time to leave that things turned for the worse.

On their way out the couple was spotted by Ida's ex-boyfriend who happened to be hanging out in an alleyway with a few buds before some new horror flick was to air. The guy set his friends away and picked fun at the two of them. Elliot, who was never one to just take something lying down, picked back… and the situation escalated until there was no going back.

The ex was the one that threw the first punch. Those walking by didn't bother stepping in, they felt it better to avoid the situation.

"John stop it!"

Ida's voice screeched as Elliot staggered backward, a hand going up to wipe the blood from running down his chin. Having felt worse pain, he laughed. "That all you got?"

"Elliot!" she protested, agitating the situation wouldn't help anything.

John wasn't too big a guy but he was in much better shape than it looked. "This is who you replace me with this time? Fucking pussy can't even take a hit."

The brunette scowled, "We'll see about that." Without warning he rushed at the ex-boyfriend, coming in contact with his midsection and forcing him against the brick wall of the movie theater. He proceeded to repeatedly ram his fist into the teen's ribs while John took a swing at his back.

The ex was able to break free by jamming his knee into Elliot's kidneys. The car thief stumbled away and John advanced, swinging at Elliot's face only for the male to dodge but loose his footing and hit the concrete.

John smirked and knelt down to nail him in the face, but Elliot's boot ended up colliding with his nose and it was his turn to stumble.

The brunette started getting to his feet when Ida made her way in between the two of them. "I said stop it!" Her voice told them she'd had enough.

"Move Ida." John ordered attempting to step around her.

She placed a hand on his chest, "No."

"Ida what are you doing?" Elliot asked standing with a slouch, a hand nursing his side.

"Stopping you both from doing something stupid." She explained glancing back at him before turning back to her ex, "Walk away John, you're just making yourself look like a jackass."

The teen scoffed, fixing his jacket. "Tch. Whatever." His eyes rested on Elliot, "You should know you're just the rebound. The only reason she went out with you was to get back at me. She'll be tired of you eventually." He stated before sending a weary grin at Ida and walking off.

Removing a napkin from her purse, Ida came to Elliot's aid and dabbing at his bloody lip. Her expression was melancholy and guilty—John's words seemed to have struck a chord. She sighed, "You shouldn't have picked a fight with him…"

Elliot didn't reply, he just stared at her. She didn't dare meet his eyes. He tensed, "Is it true?"

"What?" she asked, pausing at her dabbing.

He didn't have to answer, she knew what he meant.

Ida shook her head, but didn't speak. Her eyebrows furrowed and she opened her mouth but the words wouldn't come out. The boy waited patiently and after a few moments she sighed, "It was like that… at first." She admitted slowly, before speaking quicker trying to justify herself, "But it's not like that now. I swear. In my heart I see only you."

Elliot grimaced. He knew it, but that didn't mean it didn't wound him any less. He pushed her hand away and she stared at him frightened, "Elliot." She'd hoped he'd understand.

It was his turn to avoid eye contact. Pushing past her he walked in the opposite direction John left it.

"Elliot!"

He didn't turn back, he just left her there.

Seventeen.

Smithy leaned into the open passenger side window and smiled, a heavy smell of liquor laced in his breath, "Hey man, don't forget. Ten o'clock Paul invited us to a college par-tay~" He slurred raising the roof with his hands.

Elliot snorted amusedly, "That's where we just came from, dumbass."

"Oh." He furrowed his brow and rocked back on his heel. "Damn, I must be trashed as heeeeeell."

"You better sober up before your mom kicks your ass." The brunette warned, resting his arm out the driver's side window.

Smithy brushed the statement off with a flimsy wave of the hand, "Yeah. Yeah." Backing up he gave a two fingered salute, "See ya tomorrow."

"See ya."

Elliot stayed a minute to watch Smithy stumble clumsily up the driveway before driving toward home. A tired sigh escaped his lips as he cruised down the street. The party hadn't left much of an impression on him and most of the night became hazed—a dirty dance and a tongue down his throat were the only pieces of the night he could recall. But unlike Smithy, Elliot hadn't abused a bottle of Vodka on a dare but he had downed a few cups of Blue Point Toxic Sludge and right now he just felt like going to bed.

The quiet late night lulled him and for a moment he almost nodded off as he turned the corner down his street. At that moment something familiar dashed across the front of his car and as he attempted to avoid it there was a faint, "Molly!", a flash of blond, and a screech before something thudded against the front bumper.

The teen's blood ran cold and before he could even think he was ripping his seatbelt and scrambling out of the car. As his eyes fell upon what—or rather who—he'd struck, he felt the world crumble down on his shoulders. There splayed out of the asphalt was a barely breathing and unconscious Benjamin bleeding out before him, a whimpering Molly trying to comfort him on his right.

xXx

Mrs. Stewart sniffed, eyes glossed and irritated, body shaking from raw emotion. Her fingers protectively curled around a limp hand, her gazed never leaving the broken form of her second-born. The steady beeping of the heart monitor and the light up and down motion of his chest was the only evidence that her little boy was still alive.

The concerned Mother paid no heed to the two men that silently left the room or the heavy tension that trailed behind them… and even if she did it wouldn't matter. She had not the will to protest nor the want to listen in on the conversation. She was determined to stay by her son's side until he opened his eyes, she wanted to be there when he woke up—to tell him that everything would be ok and hold him knowing that he'd hug her back. She could see it now, he'd smile at her with that boy-ish charm and assure her that he was fine… even if he wasn't. He'd always looked out for her—for everyone—Benjamin was just that kind of kid.

She smiled sadly and stroked a strand or two of blond hair from the boy's marred face and whispered a desperate, "Please wake up soon…"

She could only hope it got through to him.

Softly, Mr. Stewart shut the door and took a deep breath. With fists clenching her turned to look at his son, who's eyes stared vacantly at the hospital door. "What am I going to do with you?" Despite his attempt at a calm voice, it came out harsh and angry. He gritted his teeth, "Look at me."

Elliot wouldn't.

"I said look at me." He ordered, grabbing the boy's collar. Stubborn brown met angry blue. "You must think your grown up don't you?" His grip tightened and he pulled him closer. "Fucking drinking at you age? You're only seventeen!"

It took a moment to realize his father's hands were shaking and a wave of surprise flooded his thoughts. He was sure he had never seen his father so upset, in only a handful of cases had he ever heard him curse, and he'd never been manhandled like this—not from him anyway. Elliot had been sure his father wasn't capable of feeling so strongly about anything, but he supposed it made since. Benjamin was the man's golden boy.

For a second he wondered what his father would do if the roles were switched. What if Benjamin had been the one drinking and driving, would he feel so strongly about the issue then? Elliot couldn't stop himself from doubting it. He'd never shown any compassion for him before, so why would he even in that situation?

"Do you understand what your selfishness has done?" Mr. Stewart let go and pointed to the door, "They say your brother will never be able to walk again."

Elliot closed his eyes and turned his head away. He didn't want to be reminded of his mistake.

"Say something!" The man practically pleaded, he wanted his son to show an emotion to him other than contempt for him for once and for a moment he believed that Elliot did show something. Something in his eyes and in the tightening of his lips, but it was gone before he could decipher it and he doubted if he even saw it at all. He let out a sigh, "I can't deal with you anymore." He rubbed his face in his hands and turned to look through the window at his wife leaning over their son. For a moment a silence past between the two before he spoke again, "I'm thinking of sending you to live with you Uncle in Toronto."

Elliot's eyes widened only a fraction and his mouth parted slightly. He was going to just send him away? Discard him? Like trash? It was his turn to clench his fist. "You can't just—"

"I can." He corrected sharply, turning from the window . "You're not eighteen yet. I still have power over your affairs, I'll do what I want. Maybe you'll think about others the next time you want to do something like this." He muttered lowly and walked back inside the hospital room.

Elliot stayed behind watching his parents care for Benjamin. His mother squeezing his hand, while his father stood at her side giving her shoulders a squeeze. They both held a warm expression of love and of worry… of sadness. It was almost like a picture some painter decided to draw just because he felt like it. He could almost see the brush strokes as the details were added to Benjamin's face, trying to make him look as heartbreaking as possible. The painter would start with his brother and then got to his mother and next his father… he couldn't imagine the artist adding him in though. He wouldn't have fitted.

He didn't have a place in the picture.

And suddenly he agree with his father, he was selfish… because as he stared at three most important people in his life he wished—for only a second—that he was in his brother's place. That those two were caring for him, looking at him, loving him.

And he hated himself for thinking it.