Chapter 9: Questions

Kaitlyn's POV

The weekends have become a blur of impatience and homesickness since starting Sky High, and this weekend is no exception. I hunker down in my room, completing homework, reading both textbooks and fiction, and listening to music, only cautiously emerging to quickly use the bathroom or grab food. I'd normally have a reprieve from the hellhole I live in through work at the Paper Lantern, but unfortunately Lyn says I'm not needed for my usual eleven-till-nine shift this Saturday.

So Monday takes its time crawling around. I barely sleep Sunday night I'm so on edge from not being where I belong, itching to get back to my friends. I want to talk with Layla and Warren, actually discuss things in my life, which they actually show an interest in unlike others. By the time I need to leave for the bus – incidentally ten minutes earlier than I normally would – Haley barely has time to gather herself to spit an insult at me before I'm halfway down the drive.

A smile plants itself on my face about ten feet from the end of the drive, and blooms quickly wider and wider until I'm grinning like an idiot at the bus stop, actually dancing to some of the more upbeat and cheerful songs on my iPod. I'm spinning around the stop signpost as the bus rounds the corner. Ron and I share a smirk as I hop down from the pole ready for him to open the door.

"Having fun there, Kait?"

"Always trying to, Ron," I grin happily. "Happy Monday, by the way."

He gives a surprised laugh as he closes the door again. "Not a phrase I usually hear from schoolkids. You're not like most kids your age, are you?"

"Of course not; I move water with my mind, for crying out loud."

I stick my tongue out at him as he shakes his head with a chuckle. I take a seat slightly towards the back, greeting the few students on the bus before me and thrilling in the fact that almost all of them greeted me first. Conversation starts and flows easily when first Ethan, Magenta and Zach embark, followed a few stops later by Will and Layla, and my soul uncurls in satisfaction at just being home. I have to stop myself from fighting my way to the front of the bus when we finally, finally, reach Sky High, but I don't resist the massive smile that takes over as I step onto school grounds. The others give me slightly weird looks, but just seem happy that I'm happy, so they don't comment.

Will and I separate from the others as we go to our respective classes. If it weren't for my overall joyful mood, I probably would find the silence painfully awkward. As it is, I'm too wrapped up in my ecstatic bubble to think about anything other than how amazing it feels to be back. I don't know how it feels for Will, but that's not really any different from normal; he and I just haven't clicked in the same way as I have with other people. At my desk, I suppress a grin as I place my bag on the floor, my thoughts occupied by dark hair streaked with red.

ЖЖЖ

Lunch rolls around both way too slowly and unbelievably quickly. I guess that's what happens when you love almost everything about school. I drop my books off at my locker, intending to make my way quickly to our usual table in the cafeteria. Instead I blink in surprise as I see Warren standing casually by my locker, as if waiting for me. The thought makes my cheeks burn, and a quip comes to my automatic defence as I approach.

"Oh, wow! Do I get an escort to the cafeteria now? How chivalrous!"

Hi, yeah, Principal Powers? I was just wondering if you knew of any supers with the power of shoving words back down into the speaker's throat so they never existed.

Warren rolls his eyes. "Psh, you wish, Rivers. Hurry and put your books away then follow me; we've got work to do."

"We…we do?" I jog after him as he starts to walk away before I've closed my locker, my small steps no match for his annoyingly broad strides. He just smirks in response to my uncertain questioning, not answering and walking briskly onward. When we reach the entrance to the gym, my anxiety triples and I pause near the doorway.

"Oh, God. Is Boomer making me clear up the mess I made on Friday?"

Warren chuckles, turning around to face me a few steps ahead. "No, luckily you managed to avoid that punishment. This isn't about any kind of punishment. Come on." When I stay where I am and look at him dubiously, his face softens. "Trust me."

Those two words said with such openness and sincerity remind me that he hasn't steered me wrong yet, burned hands notwithstanding. So I smile back as I feel myself relaxing.

"Alright," I nod, then follow him further into the gym. Coach Boomer waits on one of the bleachers, prodding at my nervousness again, but I continue to follow Warren up to him.

"Hey, coach," he greets Boomer. "Thanks for waiting, and for agreeing to this."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Boomer grumbles. "I didn't exactly expect a request like this, least of all from you, Peace."

Warren just shrugs in response as they both ignore my clueless expression.

"Alright, so, rules for this little arrangement we have here," Boomer starts pacing slowly, ticking things off on his fingers. "One: this reserved time is for you two only. I hear of anyone else joining in this little session and the deal is off. I'm not having my gym get overrun with idiotic kids when I'm not there to supervise. Two…" He stops to glare at me, "…try not to wreck the place."

"Ye-yes, sir," I duck my head sheepishly.

"That goes for you, too, hothead."

"Yes, sir," Warren nods in surprising deference.

"And three," Boomer locks eyes with Warren, "payment every Thursday evening at seven."

"I'll be sure to always have my shift then," Warren nods again.

"Good. I'll leave you to it, then."

And with that, he quickly leaves the gym. I blink after the coach before turning slowly back to Warren.

"Ohhh…kaayy. Wanna tell me what's going on now?"

His grin is annoyingly smug. "Boomer's letting us use the gym at lunchtimes for training." He expression sobers. "I know how bummed you were about Save the Citizen on Friday, and I figured you'd feel better about yourself if you started trying to get better at combat stuff and at using your powers. And training is always better with a partner. Plus, I actually want to get better at that stuff too, and I haven't had anyone to train with for years."

He just stands there so casually, in full view of my wide-eyed staring, as if his kindness is nothing special. As if his consideration isn't as heart-warming as when Julie told me I was strong. He not only went out of his way to ask something of a teacher, but he's given up his lunchtimes to help me regularly overcome this obstacle, both mental and physical. Sure, he can claim that it will help him, too, but he actually initiated it for me, for my sake. Desperately pushing tears down so I don't give him the wrong impression, I shake my head with closed eyes, holding my hands up.

"Okay, okay, hold up," I laugh, "this is so we can train?"

He nods.

"Wow," I take a deep breath, looking around the large space that is now just for us to use. "Okay. I have two questions."

"Just two? You're taking this easier than I thought you would."

I shake my head at him with a smile before locking eyes with him seriously. "First question: are you sure about this?" I rub the back of one hand in front of me almost unconsciously, but he gets the message.

"This won't be like that," he promises. "That was senseless. That was a fight. Fighting is different from sparring, which is what we'll be doing here."

"What's the difference?"

"Sparring isn't meant to hurt. It gives each fighter a chance. If a situation comes along where one fighter would win over the other because they have the opportunity to really hurt them, it's declared but not followed through."

"Huh. Okay. Second question," I grin. "What the hell did you promise Boomer to get him to agree to this?"

His answering grin is mischievous. "A super bucket of salt-and-pepper wings on my pay-check from work."

"There are fifty wings in that bucket!"

Warren just shrugs in response before we both burst out laughing.

"But actually, your hands are a good place to start," he says, taking a seat on the bleachers and getting us back on topic. "I mean, I still don't know why your hands got burnt in the first place when I was burning off your water."

"Well," I pause, also taking a seat, "I'm not a hundred percent sure either. My powers can be really instinctual sometimes. But I know that my hands are…sort of mainly how I control the water. I can do a bit without using my hands, like change the temperature and maybe pull a short stream from a tap. But my main control comes from hand movements. I think…. I think the longer I control some specific water, the more I…connect with it, if that makes sense. So the heat that you were pushing into the water I'd wrapped around you eventually started to kind of be transferred to my hands."

Warrens nods at my explanation, a contemplative look on his face. "Right, I get it now. Has that happened with any other input? Like when Lash punched your ice-shield on Friday?" We both grin at the memory before I shake my head.

"I don't think I'd connected with that water for long enough for sensations to transfer to me."

There are a few moments of silence as we both consider the logic behind this and the implications, before I sit forward and smile at him. "Okay, now you."

He blinks at me. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on! What stuff have you discovered about your power over the years? Do you still have any unanswered questions about it?"

"Not really," he shrugs, "and I haven't really discovered anything interesting. My power is pretty simple; I make fire in my hands, I throw it, end of story."

"That's ridiculous!" I shake my head. "I have so many questions about your power."

"Really?" Warren looks confused. I'd also say a flash of something like embarrassment crosses his face, but that's impossible. "Like what?"

"Well, like, can you summon fire with other parts of your body, like how firebenders in Avatar: The Last Airbender can make fire when they kick?"

"I haven't watched that because I'm not a nerd, but no, I can't; I can only make it in my hands."

"You haven't seen Avatar?! You absolutely have to; the story is so awesome, the characters are incredible and –." I stop, blushing at his raised eyebrow. "Sorry. Off topic. Anyway, next question; can you control your fire after you've thrown it? Like, can you put it out or make it bigger or make it spread in certain directions?"

He pauses, stunned. "Huh. I'd…never thought about it." His eyes glaze over to examine memories. "I guess any time I lit anything on fire accidentally, I'd kind of just panic and throw a cup of water on it."

I can't help but laugh at the image of the situation. "How often did that happen?"

He meets my eyes again to grin. "More often that I think my mom would have liked, especially when my powers were new. In any case, the times when I set anything alight deliberately, I wasn't really interested in controlling what it did once I'd let go of it; if I wanted it to spread somewhere else, I'd just light that part up; if I wanted it to burn brighter, I'd throw more fire there or pour more power in when I was holding it; if I wanted it to die down…" He stops, then rubs the back of his head with a sheepish smile. "Actually, if I'd set it alight deliberately, I never really wanted it to die down. I'd often have stormed off long before Mom put it out."

"Oh, boy," I mutter, eyes wide, pitying his poor mother.

He scowls at me. "Sure, like you've never left a trail of destruction from your powers for your parents to deal with."

My parents never dealt with anything of mine.

I shake my head in hopes it will hide my flinch. "My power just isn't that destructive."

He snorts. "Sure. Tell that to the old Plexiglas panels."

"That was different," I allow sheepishly, my face flushing. "That was the first time anything like that had happened." My gaze flicks over his shoulder, staring at where I'd fallen on Friday, trying to put myself back in that moment. "It was…raw. That's the best way I can describe it. Normally when I use my powers, I'm the one in the driver's seat; I'm making the water do what I want. When I wrecked the arena walls, it was like…I just gave all my emotions – anger, frustration, despair, self-loathing – I gave them all to my powers and said, 'Do what you want with these'. I let my powers interpret it however they wanted, as opposed to telling them exactly what to do."

I frown, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees, my eyes boring a hole through the gym floor. "I would never knowingly do what I did on Friday. I'm not a violent person. At least…I didn't think I was. But if I let my powers take my emotions and do whatever they wanted…is that a more genuine version of me than I've ever allowed?" I look at Warren again, worried, searching. "Am I actually a violent person?"

He raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "You're asking the guy who picked a fight with a freshman for tripping?"

My answering smile is only a short-lived twitch before I return to my crisis of identity. Warren sighs heavily before moving closer and tapping my leg to get my attention. When I look at him again, my eyes widen slightly at the warmth and sincerity I see there. His eyes, obviously well-adjusted to the dark, gaze straight into the blackest pits of me.

"You're not a violent person, Kaitlyn."

He declares this with such quiet certainty, his deep voice wrapping my name in a warm velvet blanket, that I almost believe him. But my doubts slap me again, tearing that scaffolding down, so I can do nothing but fight off tears and gesture for him to continue.

"I remember when I was fighting Stronghold in the cafeteria, when you came in." He averts his eyes, but doesn't bother masking the shame on his face. "As I got steadily more pissed while staring at you, I was eventually ready to fight you with all the intensity I was using before. I was about to, but I could only flare up before you stopped me." He meets my eyes again. "The decision you make in the heat of the moment show who you really are. In the cafeteria, you could have done anything; blasted me off the table with ice or a wave, knocked me out with a block of ice, drowned me in a ball of water until I passed out. Instead, you restrained me. You never hurt me, even though I gave you every reason to. You didn't have long to think about what you were going to do, and that's what you chose.

"And again in the Save The Citizen, everything you did in the actual fight wasn't violent. All you did was slow Speed down so you could pin him with ice, and then create a shield for you and your teammate. Both defensive and/or non-violent, as opposed to the bullshit Speed and Lash did."

He holds my gaze, digging in my soul like a gardener would make a hole to plant a seed. "You're not a violent person, Kaitlyn."

Everything he says makes sense, and warm hope blossoms in my chest so sharply my throat starts to tighten. There's just one problem left though.

I swallow as quietly as I can before mumbling to the floor again.

"I am now more outspoken than I have ever been in my life. It's…kind of amazing, honestly; to actually finally be speaking up about the things that matter to me." I spare a small laugh and glance his way, and his answering smile is unbearably gentle. "I'm changing just from being at this school, and I'm pretty sure it's for the better. I like who I'm becoming. But what if I don't stop changing? What if I go too far? I may not be a violent person now, but what if I become one?"

"That won't happen," Warren declares firmly, ducking his head to meet my eyes again.

"How do you know?" I shoot back, my voice wavering.

"Because I won't let it."

Any panicked or distraught train of thought stalls in shock as I blink at him once. He exhales as he awkwardly averts his eyes briefly, but forces himself to look back at me. "You're too good a person to change into that. And the world needs more good people. Screw good heroes; the majority of heroes are arrogant assholes. I should know: I'm one of them." I can't help but laugh, and he seems to relax at the sound. "I won't let you lose yourself like that. You're the best thing that's happened to this school in…something ridiculous like over ten years probably."

As I stare at him with wide eyes, he meets my gaze unapologetically.

"I won't let you lose yourself," he repeats. "I won't lose you."

That breaks me; the admission that he would have something to lose if I change in the way I'm afraid I will. I swipe at my face repeatedly as mostly silent tears run down my cheeks in a steady stream. Warren's expression is mildly uncomfortable in the face of my emotions, which makes me chuckle in a gasp, but he doesn't let that affect me; he doesn't hurry me along or try to fill the silence with nonsense. He just lets me cry, lets me bask in the feeling of belonging and security. When my tears have at least slowed down, I stop making excuses and holding myself back; slowly, gently, I lean forward and wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face in his chest. He startles and tenses up, but when I don't let go after five long seconds, his arms slowly come up to embrace me firmly, but more delicately than I ever thought they could.

His heart beats directly under my cheek. It's faster than I expected for someone so proud of his fitness. But it's strong. Incessant and relentless. The kind of power that describes quiet continuity, the ability to take hits and just keep going anyway. To stay true to your path, to yourself, throughout anything. As I briefly speculate about the number and nature of the hits he's taken, how many paths he's got lost down only to realise he didn't want to be there, I squeeze him tighter, hoping to ease even a small amount of his pain. His breath catches around his heart, and I'm suddenly conscious that I'm probably making him feel awkward. But not quite willing to leave the hug yet, I instead turn my face to the side to smile, eyes still closed.

"You're ridiculously warm, you know."

He barks out a surprised laugh. "Probably to do with my powers."

After a few more seconds, I reluctantly detach myself from him with a sigh. Warren rubs his nose while avoiding eye contact, then clears his throat.

"Well, we should probably eat our lunch now; we've been talking for a while. But I'd say we've laid out a solid plan on how to explore our powers and train up physically."

"Sure, sounds good," I nod eagerly before a breathy giggle escapes me. Warren gives me a weird look.

"Sorry," I laugh. "It's just…" I swirl some water into my hand, freezing it into the shape of a flame, making Warren smile. I grin at him.

"I can't wait to see what I'm really capable of."

He blinks in surprise before a dark smile bleeds its way across his lips. "You're a force to be reckoned with," he chuckles.

ЖЖЖ

Warren's POV

I don't even try to pay attention in English class; my mind is preoccupied. I can't believe Kait made me question so many assumptions I'd made about my powers in just a few minutes. I have so many more questions of my own now, inspired by her curiosity.

But it's not just questions about my powers that are flying round my head; it's questions about her. When I was telling her about my mom, when I brought up her parents, she flinched. She tried to hide it, but I noticed. Why? What's so painful about the subject of her parents?

Could she…. Could she be like me? With one or maybe even both her parents in jail?

No, no way; I refuse to believe she could be the child of someone bad enough to deserve jail.

Oh, God, are her parents dead?

That would make the most sense. No wonder she flinched when I mentioned parents. Dammit, that was so insensitive!

With one potential answer to a question, I freeze as I remember another question, another secret.

So where did she get those bruises?

If she doesn't have any parents, she'll have been handed over to a relative. Are they hurting her? My hands immediately curl into dangerous fists as I consider that possibility. If they are, why hasn't Kait done something about it? She could just show county services her bruises and they'll be locking any bastard responsible up by evening. At the very least, they'd give her somewhere else to stay, even temporarily.

I heave a heavy sigh. There's something more going on here, and speculation won't help.

Shelving those theories for consideration later leaves room for other thoughts to grab my attention; we hugged. We hugged for the first time and…it was awesome. My heartbeat picks up even as I just think about it. Holding her that close, close enough that I could almost believe that I could shelter her from whatever demons and self-doubt she's facing…. It was like I was her only lifeline, and surprisingly I was more than happy to fulfil that role. And when she held me tighter, so tight like she needed my presence more than the air she was inhaling in shudders…. I felt honoured. I don't know what she sees in me, but I want to at least pretend to be who she thinks I am. Who knows; maybe I'll even grow into the role.

Hi all! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a review to let me know what you think and/or what you'd like to see more of.

Fly on!