Disclaimer: I do not own Sky High.
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Evelyn stared out her office's window onto the campus beneath her. She watched the students laughing and joking, and she felt her gut sink.
"So I might never be able to turn into my Absolute again?" Ivy's voice was hard, but it was not outrightly angry.
Evelyn turned her back to the window before responding. "Nurse Spex doesn't know for certain. She says the the damage to your wrist last time was more than just a sprain. It was a minor break and some of the tissue was torn, and since it wasn't healed properly it grew back incorrectly. Now that's broken again, she's going to help it heal correctly. If it doesn't, we don't know if you'll be able to turn. We don't know how serious the injury is, or if it even has any effect on the transformation. We won't know anything until you're healed." She walked over to Ivy, and knelt down beside her niece, carefully placing a hand on Ivy's white satin glove. "We'll figure this out. Together."
"I've changed since then, though." Ivy fought her flustered voice.
"There are too many questions right now. It will all be answered in due time." Evelyn didn't know how to answer anything, she merely wanted Ivy to heal.
Ivy nodded, but said nothing. She continued to stare at the cast and bandages on her wrist, small, angry tears welling in the corners of her sad gray eyes.
Evelyn watched Ivy for a moment before standing. "You should get back--" Ivy stood and left before her aunt could finish her sentence.
She trudged through the crowds, ignoring the few stares and occasional whispers. She went to her locker, and struggled opening it. She stared through her black and white and gray vision and couldn't make herself read a single word on the spines of her books. All the letters blurred together, and there was nothing distinguishing about her science book as opposed to her math book. She watched as the words swirled and created a vortex in her mind, slowly devouring and engulfing all the words, until the books were textless and meaningless. Ivy slammed her locker shut before she could return her sight and thoughts to a normal state, and she pushed past the crowds into her first class.
She didn't take a single note, let alone hear a single word uttered by her teacher. She felt locked inside the same silence she had willingly held for almost three years, but she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to come out of it again. Her Absolute was part of her. It was her. What would she be if she couldn't turn into her feline counterpart? She hardly noticed the class had ended and she forced herself up from her seat, and into the sea of nameless faces that she couldn't make herself care less about.
Ivy went through all her morning classes in the same manner; distant, aloof, cold, and a stranger to the people she normally conversed with. She would sit in her window-seat, stare at the gray trees, gray sky, gray grass, gray birds, gray life, and grieve and mourn the loss of something she hadn't lost yet. Not a single person attempted to speak to her.
When the lunch bell rang, she solemnly entered the hallway, and dragged her feet to the cafeteria. Ignoring her friends, she got a bottle of water and left.
"Someone should go talk to her." Magenta watched sadly as their friend exited the room.
"She's right, yo. That girl is messed, man. We gotta do somethin' to brighten her life up." Zach shook his head in sympathy.
Layla began to gather her things. "I'll go see if I can talk to her." Taylor grabbed Layla's elbow, and shoved her back in her seat. "Ow! What was that for?" She rubbed her elbow, and followed Taylor's stare across the table at Warren, who sat reading his graphic novel, as normal.
"Go." Taylor crossed her arms.
Warren, unaware she was speaking to him, continued to read, until a pair of nicely manicured nails shut his comic on his hands, and froze it solid. Then he looked up. "I was reading that."
"Go." Taylor repeated, knowing he hadn't heard the first part of the conversation. "Go talk to her."
"Who now?" Warren raised his eyebrows in confusion and shook his head slightly.
"Ivy." Warren's expression dropped from confusion to fear and worry. "She needs someone to talk to, and you're the chosen one." He maintained his position, sitting and staring. "Get your ass up, and go find her." Taylor unfroze his book, and sat back, slouching over in a highly intimidating manner.
Warren didn't respond, but tucked his book into his bag and left the table. His first thought of where to search had been the gym, but he couldn't understand why she would go there of all the places in the school. He made his way there in good time, and stopped just short of opening the door, when he saw through the small windows Ivy standing in the center of the floor. She had removed her shoes and socks, sweatshirt and gloves. She stood, statue-still with her back to the doors, staring at Warren-wasn't-sure-what.
He stood at the doorway, and slowly and quietly opened the door to go inside. He leaned against the wall just inside the door, and watched Ivy take a bow, the way one would when being trained in martial arts. She took a fighting stance, and calmly began routine exercises, that soon turned into full on combat maneuvers. She stayed past the end of the lunch period, and Warren stayed watching her. He wasn't certain if he stayed to keep an eye on her, to talk to her when she was finished, or because he enjoyed watching her white hair and skin dance about against the black t-shirt and velor pants she was wearing. It was strangely poetic to him, and he couldn't seem to take pry his eyes away from the scene. Not until she turned around and saw him watching.
He felt his face flush a bright red, and scurried for the door, but as he reached his hand out to open the door, a shoe hit the exact spot his hand had been aimed for. He stopped and fearfully turned to see her standing exactly as she had when he had first come in, but facing him. He picked up her shoe and slowly, cautiously, walked towards her. He put it next to her other sneaker, and began backing away. He stopped when she turned and walked towards the Save the Citizen Control Room on the far end of the gym, opposite the entrance. She turned the knob and disappeared inside the room. Warren jumped when the floor opened and physical combat training equipment sprung from it. There were over fifteen human shaped dummies and boxing punching bags being held in a Hangman type position, and multiple sets of parallel and uneven bars that gymnasts use.
Ivy returned with a large white mat, and she dumped it in the center of the floor, moving all her belongings to the side. She unrolled the mat and Warren assumed he was supposed to take off his shoes and socks as well. He put them and his leather jacket near hers on the bleachers, and went back to the white mat. She bowed, and he mimicked her, though not as confidently. She drew her right leg back and bent her knees. She pulled her right elbow back until it was behind her shoulder, and she outstretched her left arm at shoulder height, keeping it slightly bent.
"What about your wrist?" Warren continued to stand as he had, until she threw her right foot up, kicking him in the side of his face, causing him to stumble back. He straightened his posture, shook his head trying to wipe off the pain and burning, and he returned to mimic her stance.
Warren stared at the girl before him for a few minutes, seeing that she was completely still. He could hardly tell she was breathing. He launched at her with his left fist, and she ducked and punched him in the stomach, pushing him back a few feet and making him land on his bottom. He got right back up and resumed his position. He attacked again with his right fist, and she deflected the shot, kicking him with her left foot twice in his side, and a third time under his chin throwing his head back, and making him stumble but not fall.
He was persistent, and came back again. He drew his left fist back again and when he shot it at her, she caught it in her own hand, and shook her head. She let go of his fist, and he dropped it to his side, standing straight. She walked to stand beside him, and took her starting position, so he could see it and copy it with her facing the same way, instead of trying to reverse it from across the mat. He stood for a moment looking at the soft white hair in front of him before pulling himself back to reality. He drew his right foot back, and bent his knees, then took a moment to study her arms. She glanced back and saw him place his arms, and she dropped her stance immediately and turned to him.
She simply stood and looked at him, and when he turned his head to look at her, she pushed his chin so he would face forward again. She walked to stand behind him, and pulled his right elbow back farther and higher. When she was satisfied, she moved her attention to his back, and ran her hand up his spin. He straightened it instantly at the light touch, and tried not to smile at the slight tickle. She squatted down and tapped his foot. He looked down at her, and she patted the mat about half a foot behind him. He adjusted his foot, and she stood again. She pulled his left arm away from his body straightening his elbow a little more, and repositioned his left knee so it was more bent.
Ivy then returned to her side of the mat, and took her own position. Warren stared straight into her eyes, and realized that she was trying to teach him patience. She hadn't attacked him, she had waited for him to attack her first. He knew she was strong and a good fighter, but hadn't known that she was trained in martial arts. He continued to watch her, but never made a single move. He wasn't sure how much time had passed until the bell rang, signaling the end of class, and Ivy dropped her position, bowed, and sprinted to the Control Room. All the equipment returned to its place beneath the planks of wood, and Ivy came back. She puller her Puma sneakers on as Warren replaced and buckled his boots. She picked up her bag and gloves and headed for the door, not looking at Warren once. The gym doors swung closed, and Warren remained standing in the gym.
After school had finished Warren and their friends met Ivy at the buses. She kept her gaze locked on the ground, and ignored their every word. When she and Warren got to their stop, she left the bus first, and went straight to the room she'd been staying in. She gathered all her belongings, and loaded them immediately into her Jeep. Warren stood leaning against the door frame as she made sure she had all her things.
He walked down his front steps, and to her car. "Are you sure you want to go back to your apartment?" She put her seat back up and climbed inside. "Your room will still be here if you change your mind." He backed up when she reached to shut her door, and she drove off in the direction of her apartment building.
Ivy pulled into the parking garage, and lugged her bag into the building. When she reached her studio, she went right into her room, dropped her bag, and collapsed onto her big bed. She didn't bother taking her shoes off, she just crawled right into her bed, careful not to lay down on her left arm.
The next morning her arm was fully functional again, but she'd been instructed not to use it until further notified, so she showered and dressed one-handed, and struggled to replace her bandages. Straight dark jeans, and a black long sleeved shirt fit her mood perfectly. She didn't feel special or pretty. Just plain. She ignored her hair, letting it air-dry with its slight crimp, and she remembered when it used to be it's vibrant strawberry blonde.
She remembered how she'd looked just like her mother, and she remembered how her feline form had taken it from her. She stared at her reflection, and a tear rolled down her cheek, bursting into its small flame on the tabletop of her dresser. She put her Puma's on again, and rummaged through her luggage bag trying to find her black sweatshirt. Instead of finding her sweatshirt, she found her serum, and held it up for an instant before throwing the box across the room in a fit of rage, with a silent scream escaping her. She gave up on that black sweatshirt, and went to her closet to get her other one. She picked up her bag, and left.
She repeated the routine that day, silence followed by more silence until lunch when she got a bottle of water and went to the gym. Warren was there waiting for her, shoes and socks already removed, and Ivy stood in shock as he bowed and took his position. She removed her own shoes and socks and went to the Control Room. Everything sprang from the floor again, and she came back to Warren, white mat in her arms. He helped her lay it down, remembering what trouble she'd had the day before only using one hand. They went through some exercises, repeating the same few moves until Warren understood and did them correctly. Ivy never let it show, but she was highly impressed by how fast a learner he was.
Their daily training went on for over a month, and Warren still hadn't told the rest of their friends where he spent his lunch periods. The all assumed he was with Ivy, but no one asked where they went, or what they did.
It had finally reached the last day before the schools' winter break. Warren met Ivy in the gym in the beginning of lunch, and saw her standing in her same spot wearing a pair of black Jujitsu robes, and holding a second pair. Warren dropped his bag on the bleachers and went to her. She held the robes out to him, a blank expression on her face. He gently took them and went to the locker rooms to change. When he returned, the training space was out, and Ivy was at a punching bag working on her right arm. Warren cleared his throat and she turned around to see him standing before her in his robes, his hair pulled back into a bun he wore for work. He bowed to her, and she bowed in return.
They sparred for a while, before she stopped to start teaching him ground work and attacks. They never noticed the bell rang, or that some sophomores that had gym fifth period come in to watch them. Warren had long since taken off the shirt, and was just in the pants, with sweat dripping off his back. When Coach Boomer finally pushed his way past the group of tenth-grade girls gawking at Warren's upper-body, he saw Warren and Ivy marking through a few floor moves. Boomer smiled quickly before telling the girls to leave the gym and return to the locker rooms.
"Peace. Stone." They stopped immediately and saw Boomer walking towards them. "Is this why neither of you have attended your fourth period classes in over a month?" They were both silent. "It's alright. I'll talk to Powers and get you both a waver so you don't have to take the classes at all."
"Why would you do that?" Warren was quite confused by Boomer's sudden generosity.
"Because. Ivy needs this more than history or whatever class she's skipping. She needs to remember her mom." He looked at her for the first time in years without fear, and she bowed her head slightly in his direction before he left them alone.
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