#therealkitsune

Flick was sure that at one time, Wolfram's office must have been clean. But if that was true, it had been before Flick had dumped several files' worth of papers on the older man's desk.

Some of the documents were pictures. Most of those were different phases of a brunette girl's life. Some were close-ups of wings, teeth, scars, wounds. Several were MRI scans of the brain; X-Ray photos of wings, of arms, of broken bones.

The rest of the scattered documents were expense reports, order forms, written permission for certain actions, more field reports. All part of a paper trail leading... somewhere.

But where? And to what end?

That's one of the things the green-eyed, grizzled, young man had come to find out.

Flick just watched Wolfram methodically saify through the information - first flipping through a stack of photos, then reading through report after report after report.

The fox-like boy thought he would die of boredom. Ever one for action - usually impulsive action - Flick had a hard time standing still. Even after two nights without sleep, he couldn't stop moving. Unbidden, his eyes wandered to the door, to the basement window, to the scattered files...

He was sure Wolfram could hear his heartbeat. He'd only been there 7 minutes and 38 seconds - another recent habit of his included counting the seconds - and already his palms felt sweaty, his fingers twitched, and his nose throbbed in sync with his thready pulse.

In the quiet office, Wolfram finally looked up, drawn out of his silent reverie by Flick's quiet groan of pain as he absently touched the bridge of his nose.

"Flick..." His voice might as well have been the crack of a whip, given Flick's startled reaction. "Why don't you... take a seat," the spectacle-adorned man intoned, gesturing to the brass-studded leather chair across from his desk.

Giving him a level glare - most likely not intended for Wolfram - Flick sat. He still fidgeted and, after the space of two full minutes, he leapt up again and began pacing the room again, the visage of a caged lion.

With a single precise motion, Wolfram adjusted his glasses and swept the file back together in a collected, deliberate movement.

"I heard from a trusted source of a... situation... in eastern Canada. I presume that was you?" The silence could have been split with a meat cleaver.

Flick only nodded, an uncharacteristic grim look to his face. "It was."

"And the flight decoy in Tibet?"

A pair of narrow shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "I never set foot out of the country... But you knew that." Wolfram took note of the edge in Flick's voice and filed it away mentally for later reference.

Losing interest in the direction of the conversation, Flick yawned and shifted his glare elsewhere.

Meanwhile, the pony-tailed man lifted a single sheet from the stack to examine. "Hmm..."

Flick's laser-like gaze flipped back to the man behind the desk. Once more, Wolfram mused near-silently: "Well... That's interesting…”

If it had been his aim to capture the attention of the green-eyed man beside him, he’d accomplished it. “What is it?” The response was practically a hiss.

“The frequency of MRI scans increased between the ages of 7 and 13…” Wolfram flipped forward several pages, raising an eyebrow as he scanned the next page.

To the casual observer, Flick looked like he could’ve easily spontaneously combusted. “What does that mean, Wolfram?”

With the slightest of glances, Wolfram turned his back to the young man and strode over to a file cabinet across the room. “I don’t suppose you recovered Mr. Herric’s files as well?”

Clenching and unclenching his fists, Flick dug through the pile of folders he’d dumped on the elder man’s desk. Finding the one he was looking for, he slid it across the desk with barely concealed agitation. Wolfram didn’t respond as he silently ran his fingers along the edges of labelled file folders in the cabinet.

Finding the one he was searching for, he turned back around, brow furrowed. At Flick’s curious gesture, he tapped the manila folder. “All the information Mr. Herric and Mr. Dare were able to provide of their family when they first arrived.”

Flick had to bite back the words: “And us too.” A cold feeling in his chest reminded him that the anniversary had been yesterday. Absently, he sat down, feeling the weight of his actions bombard him for the 73rd time in 24 hours.

Flick jerked awake unwittingly to the sound of shuffling pages. Nearly sliding right out of the chair, he sat upright once again, causing the stack of books at his feet to topple over. He inwardly cringed at Wolfram’s inscrutable gaze. Straightening, he bit his lip so hard it bled just to keep awake.

Wolfram turned back towards him, holding out three separate sheets of paper. Taking them with bleary eyes, Flick skimmed them before looking to the elder man for explanation: “What are these?”

“Blood screens, surgery reports, and X-Rays,” he replied, pointing to each in turn. “The blood reports imply there was a drastic change in Galen’s biological functions around her twelfth year--”

Flick interrupted in time to pick up his train of thought: “Which was when Shift donated blood. Is that when her head scans started increasing?”

“Indeed,” was the only reply Wolfram graced him with, producing another stapled-together selection of papers. “As well as many other tests. PT scans, X-Rays, CAT scans, MRIs… The sheer amount of scans involving radiation increases more than tenfold..."

Curiosity piqued, Flick learned in. Watching a man read files he'd already committed to memory was one thing; watching a man discover something he'd missed was another.

"It never stated clearly the exact amount of radiation used - not definitively, though there are certainly clues here..." The bespectacled man ran his fingers down the page, eyes searching for something. Entire paragraphs were sometimes redacted. Mostly just small sentence fragments. "Nor does it state the final count of radiation tests."

"Come on, Wolfram, what does that mean?" The green-eyes boy watched the elder man as if he were his last meal ticket, and he were a starving man.

This could be it - the piece of information that would change everything he needed it to. Everything that would make his absence okay.

Wolfram silently regarded Flick, then ran his hand through his graying ponytail. Removing his glasses, he sighed heavily. The aging man sank into his chair, the file again splayed on the mahogany desk and took a cautionary stance: "It means… that all this will take me time to go through these, my boy."

Though he didn't say anything, Wolfram saw the spark of defiance light up the young man's lackluster eyes. Wolfram continued: "I suggest you clean up and return in the morning."

"Just like that?" Flick asked, his voice rising in pitch. His eyes were wild from lack of sleep, a suspicious glimmer deep within them that might have hinted he was bordering on madness.

Wolfram regarded him silently, unruffled by the unspoken accusation. He didn’t answer right away, first pulling out a what looked like a cell phone. While he examined the screen, he answered in clipped tones: "Just like that. I need to run some tests. Consult some colleagues."

Flick sighed forcefully, nostrils flaring. “Galen could be dying, and it’s going to take you time?!”

“Landing on the moon did not take a day, Mr. Jones. Please go and clean up. Rest, recuperate, and we’ll continue this discussion in the morning.”

As Flick watched incredulously, Wolfram stood and headed for the door. As he cracked it open, he strode forward, grabbing a handful of the older man’s white lab jacket. “What are you doing? We’ aren’t done here!”

When Wolfram turned around, his eyes were narrowed fractionally, a warning gleam prominent in his gaze. When he spoke, however, his voice was unbothered and collected: “Be patient, Flick. We will resolve this, but something else has been called to my attention this evening. Shall we continue this conversation in the morning?”

Bristling, Flick’s grizzled jaw clenched, flinty green slits focused on the ponytailed man. He growled audibly, fists clenched into tight balls at his side. Wolfram, as if to attempt to bridge the ever-widening gap between them, rested a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

Flick jerked away visibly, glaring daggers. “Don’t touch me,” he uttered, rolling his shoulders as if to get the nonexistent stain of Wolfram off of his clothes. He strode to the desk, picked up one of the folders he’d brought with him, and spun on his heel towards the door.

Without a single backwards glance, he slammed the door open. Examining the wrathful Flick, Wolfram observed him throw the folder into his satchel with a rage rivaling the full force of Galen herself. He followed a pace behind.

His fingers fumbled and he spilled some of the documents over the side. Hissing under his breath, jerking hands gathered the papers. A flash drive could be seen stuffed between the sheets. Silently, Wolfram mused over the possible contents.

Taking a breath, Wolfram posed a question: “What do you intend to do?”

Flushed with anger, Flick whipped around to face him. The words that left his mouth were biting and daggerlike: “To tell Galen what I found! Where else? It’s bad enough she hates me, but if I didn’t tell her--”

Wolfram interrupted him immediately, waving a hand to cut him off. Flick shot him a very confused look when the scientist shot his reclining chair an almost nervous look. "Flick, please calm down. It doesn't help to rage about this. She will know in time - it won't hurt any more to wait until I double check your findings. Then we can both tell her-"

When Flick opened his mouth again, Wolfram’s eyebrows rose in accordance with his words. "I will tell her, alright? I've almost been killed, Wolfram! Just getting this stupid file!" Apparently, Flick’s wrath knew no bounds.

Without warning, Flick squared his shoulders up to Wolfram, the veins in his neck standing out visibly against his flushed skin. A single finger stabbed into Wolfram’s chest, causing the elder man to take a step back with the strength behind the simple motion.

"So, if I want to tell the only person I would do this for the cure that could save her, then you will allow me to tell her..." Flick continued, cold and unforgiving as he turned his back, as if Wolfram’s very presence disgusted him.

As if spent, Flick took a shuddering breath, his narrow shoulders shaking subtly. He kneaded his forehead, eyes closing like it pained him to exist. When he opened them again, Wolfram saw a thin film of moisture clouding them.

When he spoke, his tone was calmer and much quieter. “And now, so help me, I am going to go shave and shower."

Wolfram said nothing when Flick turned, striding to the stairs and taking them two at the time back to the upper ground level. Before he could completely escape, the scientist called to him again: “And after that?” His tone was challenging, one might think, the way his cocked his head, eyebrow raised quizzically.

Looking at nothing but Flick’s back, he heard the subtle pop-pop-pop! of knuckles cracking. “Then… I’m going to try not to do anything I’ll regret.” Green eyes flashed dangerously before they disappeared behind a mask of hair and anger.

With a flash of movement, the younger man was gone, leaving Wolfram standing in the doorway to his study. He groaned softly, removing his glasses to massage his temples much as Flick had done earlier.

Everything could come crumbling down if Flick refused to relent from his streak of brash behavior. The radiation is key, he reminded himself, glancing back at his now-covered desk. The X-Rays, the redacted files… They all pointed to one thing. One common denominator that was constantly thrown back in his face:

Radiation. So much radiation.

Enough that should’ve killed a grown man. It could’ve killed him, had he been the test subject, he mused silently, stroking his chin, deep in thought. With careful calculations and the help of one or two of his older contacts, he could be able to determine how much.

But if Flick had known the details of his train of thought, the brash man would have taken off immediately, chasing the lead like a bloodhound chasing a scent.

In a way, it was refreshing to see any member of the human race so passionate about something, but Wolfram took a fraction of a moment to remind himself - someone had risked death for this.

It wasn’t until his eyes began to swim behind slitted eyelids that he realized that even if he stayed in his current position for weeks on end, it would bring him no closer to resolving the final issue. His mind was spent. He needed to rest before he overthought the matter.

Replacing his wire-rimmed glasses upon the bridge of his nose, he turned towards his reading chair in one fluid motion that belied his age. “You can come out now.”

It took to a count of six until the hidden person slowly edged past the recliner. First, golden-brown hair, then puzzled blue eyes. Galen stared in utter confusion, and possibly a good amount of pain. Her eyes were unreadable, they switched emotions so quickly.

“I… don’t understand.” All preamble was omitted, leaving blunt, dumbfounded dialogue.

“The human mind is something that is… simply unreadable. And yet the heart is far more deceitful. It is impossible to understand it,” responded the worn man, spreading his hands as if to comfort her from afar.

Galen rubbed her bare arms, as if cold. Hunkered against the leather reading chair, she seemed much smaller than she was. Childlike, almost.

Wolfram allowed the silence to flow both ways between them until he deemed she had taken enough time to mull it over - and he could reasonably stay focused. “How much did you hear?”

She shrugged, eyes glazed as if she were a thousand miles away. “Not much. The end. Shouting.” Her voice was a whisper.

Wolfram nodded, having expected as much. “May I make a suggestion?”

Dizzy eyes suddenly snapped into focus, pinning the older man in her stare. Her expression seemed to take on an ironic disposition. “Lemme guess - you want me to talk to Flick?”

A negative gesture quelled any thoughts of that. “On the contrary. Give him time.”

Galen chin dipped in a facsimile of a nod. Her eyes had slid away from his again, as if she had a hard time keeping her mind parallel with the matter at hand.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet, confused, and guileless. “But… I need to know.”

Wolfram sighed heavily, striding forward until he was standing close enough to kneel beside her. Absently, he inwardly winced when his knees creaked loud enough to cause Galen to jump. He tried to ignore the signs of aging as he continued: “As does Flick. I doubt he truly realizes the implications of what his departure meant to you.”

He had to raise a hand to silence Galen’s imminent protest, as well as the shimmering of tears in her eyes. “But I also truly believe he was hurt just as much - if not more - than you were, Galen. You must understand that.” To emphasize his words, he rested a cold hand on her shoulder, as if he’d never noticed the hostility Galen had had for him over the course of the years.

“He never had the support network you did. He didn’t have friends, and he didn’t have allies. Even when you were running in your early years, you had your family, and he had Alex, and the others. He’s been running this whole time alone.” Wolfram could see each word struck home by the way drops of liquid grief slipped down her cheeks.

Wolfram, his brief moment of understanding completed, stood, adjusting his spectacles with one finger. With the other hand, he extended it to Galen. Saying nothing, she took it, pulling herself up.

“Now… I suggest you grab something to eat. Perhaps freshen up - I don’t believe you had the chance last night. Perhaps after that, you and Flick will return to your… respective roles in your... “ he paused, searching for a word that wouldn’t feel like a train hitting her.

“Friendship?” Galen suggested weakly, wincing visibly.

Offering a slight sympathetic smile, Wolfram clasped his hands behind him. “Perhaps your ‘affiliation’ would be more adequate?”

Unexpectedly, the small wolvish girl’s despondent face spread into a smile, her voice lifting up into a contagious giggle. Wolfram couldn’t help but allow the corner of his mouth to uptilt. Slightly.

“Did I say something amusing?”

Galen shook her head, snorting with zero elegance, and sighed heavily. “Nothing. I don’t know anymore,” she replied, still smiling. Her eyes, though still tear stricken, were hollow now, as if every iota of energy she once had was disappearing along with the final strains of laughter.

The moment passed, Wolfram nodded decisively and let a small smile replace the smirk he had possessed for mere seconds. The silence stretched out again, leaving the two standing soundlessly in the subbasement.

“I guess I’ll take you up on your advice then, Wolfy,” Galen murmured, her expression once more withdrawn into a stoic expression. Despite the sobriety of her countenance, even a complete imbecile could have seen the fragility of her painted facade.

Wolfram graciously inclined his head, he paced to his office doorway again, giving Galen her opportunity to depart.

He’d done his part , he thought - a part of community life that often didn’t include him in its confines. He knew he had done as well as he could, given the circumstances. He crossed his office in six strides, closing the distance between himself and his desk.

Idly, he picked up a transparency. A ribcage was depicted on it. He could see by looking closely at the sternum that the third and fourth true ribs had completely snapped away from the breastbone. A circular chip disrupted the sternum’s shape. He let his fall to his desk, clenched hands gripping the mahogany of his workplace.

Perhaps he had done something good, he reflected in stillness. Or perhaps he had done something unsavory.

The sight of Alex, trying to fit into that suit, was hilarious.

The school was having some sort of dance this week, and Zahra had gotten it into her head that we should be required to attend. It wouldn't be such a big deal, but she managed to persuade Wolfram to make it mandatory. Which was why Alex was currently hopping around the room and complaining loudly while Cassidy chased after him with pins and needles. Every suit was too short for him, so it had to be extended and patched. Unfortunately, there were only a few of people in the household really good enough for altering clothing. One of them was Cass. Nobody else was willing to give the kid a chance, so Alex had volunteered.

I snorted at the image in front of me. Alex looked like a patchy scarecrow. "Cass, maybe if you stopped stabbing him he'd stop running away?" I suggested from where I sat. "Just a friendly hint."

"Stop making trouble, Flicker," Galen muttered, punching my shoulder.

I pouted. "But its so much fun!" Galen sighed and put her head in her hands.

Cassidy shot me a glare from where she knelt on the floor, clinging to one of Alex's legs and desperately trying to stitch up a seam. "Excuse me, but its not like I have any choice!" she protested, "He keeps squirming! And he refused to take his pants off!" Alex went bright red. "Oh, be quiet you big baby," she muttered, stabbing the fabric with her needle harder than really needed, "Next time don't wear the joke underwear you got, when you know you're coming in for a fitting."

"I-Its not my fault!" Alex protested, still red faced, "Ash bought it--you know how she gets!"

At this, Galen's attempts at a straight face failed, and she burst out laughing at Alex. When she noticed me grinning at her, she immediately growled at me and returned to scowling.

"Don't look like that, Galen!" Cass scolded, "Go try on your dress! I need to know if I need to alter it or not!"

Galen glared at her, but Cassidy didn't back down. Finally, Galen sighed in defeat and stood up.

Cassidy watched in pride as Galen went into the changing room she'd set up, then finished stitching up Alex's pants. Once Alex hobbled out to deal with his cuts, she glanced over at me.

"Sorry, Cass, I have a suit already," I said, smiling at her.

Cassidy squinted at me. "If you wear a pink tux t-shirt, Galen and Zahra will kill you," she informed me.

I sighed. "I know. Fine, I'll wear a suit."

The curtain slid open, and Galen stepped out, looking unsure of herself. "How do I look?" she asked hesitantly.

 My first thought: Woah. Cassidy chose well, for a little tweenlet.

The dress was a dark, silky green. It was ankle length, and strapless. A wide emerald ribbon wound around her waist, forming a sash, and a sheer green fabric lay over it, like a second skirt. It made the dress shimmer when she walked. The sash was tied in the back, forming a clumsy bow. She looked gorgeous.

Cassidy laughed at my awestruck look. "Close your mouth, Flick," she teased, before looking back at Galen. "Its perfect, Galen."

Galen looked down at the dress hesitantly. "Are you sure this is necessary? Can't I just wear a hoodie and jeans?" Cass glared at her. "Okay, a t-shirt and a skirt?"

"No!" Cassidy protested, sounding horrified.

My nose hurt, but that was the least of my worries right now. What I was worried about right now was sitting downstairs, probably reading another of his books.

I was still mad worried about Galen. I hadn't realized how strongly she would react, seeing me back. Stupid, I know, but you're talking to the living embodiment of stupid walking. Honestly, at this point, I was even surprised they hadn't gone and thrown me in the closest body of water. That I'd made it this far, into the house and unsupervised was a good thing, right?

I'd originally planned only to stop by to talk to Wolfram. I hated having to admit it, but my slapdash plan-after-plan deal wasn't working.

Not even a month after I left, I slipped up again, though that wasn't the incident that made me really feel that my plans didn't work, period. I had a picture of Galen I'd kept with me, but I left it behind while I was out getting stuff.

When I came back to camp, the picture was missing, and there was a threatening note. They knew who she was, and what she meant to me, and probably had the means to track her down. When that happened, I had to sneak into Veruscire labs, the very place they wanted me in, to make sure they didn't have any info on the house.

While I was there, I ran into a problem that led to several years worth of problems. Wolfram wasn't as thorough as he thought. They had information on several of the houses he and his buddies ran--apparently they'd managed to reclaim one with these papers, to my horror-- and I'd had to destroy several computers, as well as getting rid of it anywhere else through my laptop, which I bought, used, and then threw away to avoid being tracked. When I left that area, the place was clean of any traces of mutant living quarters. I also grabbed some papers on Galen while I was there. According to them, they had set up some sort of thing in her head to help with the headaches she got from conflicting DNA. On the other hand, it was also able to cause these headaches. This would probably help. If I ever managed to get it back to her. I didn't trust the number enough, or I'd text it to Wolfram, seeing as he could do something. In the mean time, it was safest to stay away as far as possible, at least that had been my thoughts at the time. According to Alex, there was a raid in town around the time the photo went missing, which couldn't be a coincidence. It was the only way for her to stay safe. That was when I started cycling numbers more frequently, so not even Alex could contact me. For a while, my plan was working, and I was pretty sure I'd be able to go back and just go, got them off my back, no-one knows about the house, coast is clear. Then one night, while I was figuring out when it would be safest to leave, the thought of the computers shot back into my head. If they had information in one place...they probably had it all over. Nowhere was safe. They would eventually find the house. I couldn't go back, knowing that there were still problems. Still places where people like us weren't safe. Galen's safety was important, but so was everyone elses. I couldn't go back, with information like this.

Besides, a cynical part of my mind thought, it wasn't like she would miss me that much. She was fine where she was, I was sure of it, probably not thinking about me at all. I tried to ignore that feeling, but it hurt. There was no reason to go back, when there were so many other reasons not to, to stay and try to help others in my own idiot way. If she did care, she would understand. 

Apparently she did care, and react badly, though, as proven by my beating I'd gotten yesterday.

The real problem had been about a year ago. I didn't want to think about the specifics, but basically, if I was guessing right...if Wolfram didn't help, it was cut off a wing or surrender.

I'd rather kill myself than submit to them. Not that I wouldn't die either way. I really hoped Wolfram was still seeing reason. Of course, considering my last conversation with him...

Once I got home, I headed downstairs where I knew the slightly elderly man would be working--probably reading, at this time. He never worked when us kids were first home, mostly because when he tried it had resulted in a lot of yelling at us to keep it down. He wasn't always here, so we weren't great about being quiet. Actually, scratch that, we weren't good period. Either way, this would be the best time to approach him. I had to get going as soon as possible.

Wolfram looked up with a polite smile at my appearance, as he put his book on the table slowly and deliberately, a thumb in to save his page. "Afternoon, Flick--" I cut past his pleasantries.

"They were here at school," I said. "I--they found some of my feathers--they know its me--I have to go--I don't--Galen's safety!" It all poured out in a jumbled mess.

Wolfram frowned, his eyebrows knitting together, forming a complex expression.

He leaned forward, propping his head on his elbows. His book had fallen, and lay, forgotten and forlorn, on the floor.

"When you say they...scientists? Or the hybrid guards they employ?" he asked slowly, as if he were analyzing the situation, like in one of his theories.

"Scientists," I snapped, in no mood, "Look, I need somewhere I can go to--I don't know, throw them off the idea that there are more of us? Gal--I don't want them finding the others..."

He sighed. "The best thing to do would be to--"

"I don't give a d*** what the best thing to do is!" I shouted, slamming a fist on the table, angry and impatient, "I need to get out of here and I need to get out of here fast, I don't know, lay a fake trail or something..." My eyes lit up. "That's it!"

...yeah.

I wasn't betting on 'friendly'. But if I wanted to get anything done, I needed to talk to him...

I headed downstairs. My way down, I flipped the switch, turning on the stairway light.

"Uh, Wolfram? You around?"

No reply. When I looked around the small room, it was empty.

I walked over to the digital calendar Wolfram had put up, checking it. Apparently, he was supposed to come back from some trip today. I wasn't sure if I should be relieved that he wasn't back yet, or scared, that I had time to build up my fear of the coming confrontation.

"West? Back so soon?" Footsteps echoed down the steps, and I could hear Wolfram's voice. A moment later, his head and then body emerged from the stairwell.

I stood, feeling extremely nervous.

Wolfram looked mildly startled. "Flick?"

When I woke up, I was in bed, wearing an old pair of pajamas. I opened my eyes to Rayk sitting by my bedside, looking (if possible) even darker than usual. For a moment, I tried to figure out how I got from babysitting the kidlets to bed, but then it all came back.

Rayk glanced over when he heard me sitting up. "You're up." Was all he said.

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so we sat in silence for a while.

"Tweet called Alex and told him to come home to check on you, but I guess you're alright now," Rayk said gruffly. I looked at him, confused. He didn't explain any more, he just left. I was left lying there trying to process everything.

I was babysitting them...and then someone came over.

Flick.

Even thinking his name made me mad all over again.

A knock on the door, and then someone peeked their head in.

Shift looked hesitant to enter, but when he saw that I was awake, and not about to punch anybody, he came in briskly, walking over to take the seat Rayk had been on just a minute ago.

"So..." he started, sounding awkward. "Do you want to be filled in on what happened after you blacked out, or should we just sit here awkwardly for a while until the kids need me?"

I quirked a small smile at his words. Small.

"Fill me in," I replied.

Shift looked away, scratching the back of his head and sounding even more unsure of himself. "Well, for starters, Abigail tells me you guys totally spoiled them, almost set my kitchen on fire--"

"What?! Oh. The brownies." I reddened.

"--And beat up somebody, in front of them," he finished, trying to sound like he was scolding me. It wasn't working. "I take it the next time won't be like this?" I nodded. "Okay. Well, once you...blacked out...Switch brought you back to your room, and I think you have Trance to thank for the outfit swap." He looked at me, I guess trying to judge whether he could continue. "After she left, Rayk...er, invited Flick inside." I could tell he meant something other than 'invite'. "Flick had a backpack with him, so he had to go get that, but then he came in. He wouldn't tell us anything, though. Rayk brought him back to the main house--here--and I think he stayed either in the living room or somewhere else. Last I saw him, he and Wolfram were going at it. You weren't looking so good, so I asked Tweet to call Alex, but then Ash and Ponder said you were fine. We were going to tell him he didn't have to come back, but when he heard about the events, he said he was coming anyway. He sounded pretty pissed off."

I exhaled slowly, taking several deep breaths, trying to stay calm.

"So...you don't know why Flick is...here?" I finally asked quietly. He shook his head.

"Hes downstairs." Shift paused, then added, "Look, I don't trust him, and its up to you, but I think you should talk to him." I glared at him. "Just...I heard a bit of his conversation with Wolfram, and I think you need to find out what happened. Talk to him. Because something might happen, and you might regret throwing a chance away."

I stared at him. Finally, I said, "Tell me what he said."

"No."

His face was stubborn. "This isn't something I can just tell you. You know that perfectly well, Galen. If I didn't think Flick would be so bothered by it, then how come Wolfram never told you what he knew? What about Alex?" My breath caught in my throat.

"Alex...Alex knew?" I breathed. I was shocked, to say the least. It explained all those guilty looks he would give me, the way he never wanted to talk as much to me, as if he would say something he shouldn't, slip up. The way he'd been so insistent, when my headaches came on so strong, that something was different about them, but wouldn't say why.

Shift looked down. "Look, just talk to him, for me? He'll tell you whats up, anyway, and I think you're the only one he will tell..."

Shift leaned over to peck my forehead. "Oh, and feel better, Gal'."

The sight of Flick reeling back from my punch, tumbling down Shift's steps and slamming to a halt at the foot of a tree, clutching his nose in agony, brought a slight smirk to my face. A cut had opened up on the top of his head from banging it into the bottom edge of a board Shift had nailed up, one of many, forming a ladder to the kids treehouse. I didn't feel even remotely sympathetic for him.

As far as I was concerned, he had a heck load of pain waiting his way before he got even close to paying back what had happened.

Brushing aside Rayk's hand on my shoulder, I strode down the steps, a metaphorical thunder cloud over my head. I was a woman with a mission, and gosh darn it all, I would smite anything that dared step in my way.

Flick had finally gotten to his feet, one hand to his nose. It was, to my satisfaction, gushing blood.

To his credit, he was smart enough to back away as he spoke, at least. Smart boy.

"Listen, Gal', I know you're probably really mad, but you gotta listen to me--"

I snarled at him, and he gulped, backing up further. I could hear Rayk telling the kids to stay inside, starting to venture out after me, but I put the thought aside. Nothing was going to prevent me from grinding Flick into a little smushy spot on the ground, certainly not Rayk...

Thunder boomed ahead as my feet pounded the ground like the rain above, making my way towards him, fists clenched.

Behind me, I could hear footsteps--more than one--but I didn't care. I advanced, narrowing my eyes at Flick.

"Listen to you?" I echoed in a low, dangerous tone of voice. "You expect--after--after fourteen flipping years, for me to listen to you?!" As the final word died away in silence, I heard a crack of lightning nearby, and heard Rayk calling for me to get back, but I ignored him.

Flick backed away further, but I didn't give him time to get any farther away. I made quick work of the space between us.

Before he could speak, I grabbed him by the collar, practically holding him off the ground, gripping his collar with tight, clenched fists. "If you think for a second--one single second, that anything you say can fix this? Can make up for the years you were gone? Go right ahead! Convince me of your innocence!" I spat. Flick shrank back at the venom in my voice, his eyes wide. The rain was pouring down twice as heavily as it had before, and I could see in the reflection of Flick's eyes, that mine were glowing harshly. It was probably why he wasn't saying anything, just flinching a little bit, his hand reaching up to his collar, then dropping to his side. "Is this some sort of sick joke? You think--think you can make it all better with a few words? Go ahead. Say it. What's your excuse this time, Trouble?"

Flick said nothing, but his eyes darted from side to side, up and down, looking at me and then behind me, like he was desperately trying to come up with something.

"I'm waiting, Trouble," I growled, my tone harsh, and impatient. Like I waited fourteen years for you, I thought to myself, I s'pose you wouldn't change after that.

Galen, what are you thinking, doing this? I pushed Rayk's concerned, irritated voice out of my mind, but not before shooting him a thought back.

Watch the kids. An unnecessary precaution, but it got him off my back, at least, judging from the slow, shuffling footsteps. I would deal with Flick in my own way.

  Just as I had gotten ready to make him regret being born, he spoke up.

"Okay, okay! The truth is, Glitch sent me to the grocery store with this really really--I mean really long, like the length of Alex, honestly, grocery list, and then they didn't have half the stuff I needed, so I had to go on this huge trip to find caviar, because for some reason she wanted caviar, but then she said she found out that it was fish eggs, so I had to find something else, and I ran out of money, so I had to work for this really overweight armadillo, and it was an armadillo themed restaurant, so I had to act like one all the time, and I forgot I was human for like five years, and--"

  *He was interrupted by someone growling at him viciously. Oh, wait. That was me.

"GrrrrrrrrRRR!" I spat, hurling him across the yard. He went skidding and sliding on the thoroughly-damp grass for a good 5 or 6 meters. I was vaguely aware of the kids and Rayk watching from the door.* I thought I had told Rayk to watch the kids, not leave them to watch the match going on. I didn't care at this point,  was beyond angry, beyond furious, I was...livid. Enraged. After fourteen years of pent of anger at Flick for leaving--for not saying anything--at Wolfram for refusing to tell me--for the way everyone seemed to move on, not seeing what was missing--it felt good to just let go and...hurt someone. The storm was raging around me, and I felt alive.

Flick stood--stumbled, fell--stood again. Making my way to him, I was barely aware of a conversation in the back.

"Uncle Rayk...is Aunt Gala...whats Aunt Gala doing?" Reacher's whispers, barely audible, hoarse with tears. "Is that guy bad?"

"....I think shes beating him up," Rayk murmured back. I noticed he didn't answer the second part.

Take the kids inside, already, would you? I thought irritably.

Flick managed to stand up, and held his hands out in a surrendering position. I halted, a few feet away from him, pausing for him to speak. "Okay--okay, the real reason I left... Shift told me to leave! Yeah, I mean your brother is seriously over-protective, you should--" I punched him again, this time a satisfying crack accompanying it that told me his nose was now broken.

"You never told me!" I screamed at him, the rain really coming down now, making me have to be even louder to be heard. I kicked the back of his right knee, and he crumpled to the ground, before starting to get up again.

Thunder boomed. Light flashed behind him, and I could hear a high-pitched keening in the back of my head--no, not a headache, I didn't have time for one of those, not now. "You were my best friend, you stupid firefly, and you didn't so much as leave a note!"

Flick was getting up. My vision was getting spotty, like rain drops were clouding my vision.

Flick looked up at me, still kneeling, a hand to his nose, and let out a breathy sigh. His eyes were sad, pools of the color green and regret. I looked away from his eyes, not wanting to see them any longer. He should regret it. I didn't want to focus on how...sad he looked, how...I don't even know.

His voice was thick as he spoke. *"We were a little more ‘n that, Gal’”*

Something inside me died a little at that sentence--that admission--spoken aloud, by a person I thought would never return. But then, rage filled the spot that was left.

"So?" I spat, "Its not like you stayed around for that, either! Tell me; d'you think that makes it better? Coming back and saying that? You think it'll fix everything up!" I laughed harshly, folding my hands together and cracking my knuckles as I waited for him to stand, so I could at least say he was standing when I destroyed him.

A sigh; low, and mournful, escaped his lips. He looked at me as he stood; again with those sad, regretful eyes. Suddenly, I didn't want him back here, I didn't even want to hurt him. I wanted him far, far away, where he couldn't look at me like that, tell me why he left, just...not be here. I didn't want to know why he left. I didn't want to see his stupid face. I wanted him to be miles away, six feet under, where he couldn't tug at my feelings like that. "No, but, Gal', that's why I left--"

I didn't give him a chance to finish--I didn't want him to finish. I punched him twice in the gut, winding him. While he was doubled over, desperately trying to suck air back into his pathetic lungs, I kicked him so hard he flew back, slamming into the slick grass.

Flick knelt there, coughing and wheezing and trying to get his breath. I stood there, breathing hard and glaring. Black dots were speckling my vision, but I didn't care. The screeching sound--like a broken record--filled my ears, punctuated by a boom of thunder.

A flash of light, boom of thunder--lightning cracked--Flick was standing. "Galen, listen--" I covered my ears, not wanting to hear what he had to say. Light flashed again, momentarily blinding me, and suddenly Flick was closer, too close.

"Galen, I--when--left--the reason--" The screeching kept coming back, cutting off his sentences, and I was so cold, covered in rain--but then my face--the rain tasted like salt--and light was flashing.

"Why?" I screamed at him, "You come back and you can't even tell me why you left in the first place?"

"Its kind of hard while you're throwing me about the place!" he protested, staring at me with those stupid, desperate looking eyes.

I released my fists, dropping my hands to my sides, then clenched them again. "Thirty seconds."

Even now, he still looked nervous, glancing around the place every second, like something else--something worse than me?--would attack him. "Gal'--I can't tell you--not now--wrong place"

"The wrong place?" I echoed, barely aware of how nasty my voice had gotten, glaring daggers at him, "I don't buy that."

He looked angry. "No, Galen...not safe...its a long story..."

Tears were blinding me--light was flashing, "Then why are you here?" If he wasn't going to tell me, then why was he here? Was it his way of mocking me? After I thought I'd moved on from him?

"If you're not going to say anything, then leave!"

I didn't want him here, he needed to leave. He needed to leave--light flashed, my vision spun--and then he was there, right in front of me, his expression grim. He put his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look at him.

"Galen, listen to me." I screamed, and reached out to hit him, but he grabbed my hand. His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed. For the first time, I noticed that in the years he'd been gone, he'd grown some stubble, about the same amount that Rayk got when he didn't shave for all of November to try to prove to us that he could grow a beard (he couldn't; Kayr mocked him for all of November and December about it), and his hair was dripping wet, turning almost black from the rain, and getting in his face.

"Why, you--" I tried to hit him with my free hand, elbow him, but he shifted, grabbing both my arms so I couldn't hit him.

"Don't." His voice was tight. "C'mon, Galen, I know how you fight, I know your tricks better than you think I do, and you need to listen to me when I say that--" I headbutted him, catching the corner of his chin and him off guard. I tried to kick him, but he twisted out of the way, then stopped, staring at me. The screeching noise was back, spitting and popping, like hot oil. Flick was saying something--I didn't know what--he wasn't holding me anymore, was Rayk there? I would have hit him, but light flashed, and suddenly, Flick wasn't in front of me anymore, it was dark, and then I saw flashes of light. Some were bright red, like the color of blood, but too bright to be real. I could see Flick's face now, blood dripping out of his nose, sticky and fresh, before bursting into flames.

Then, Flick grinned at me, only it wasn't Flick, Flick didn't have teeth that sharp, and fur, and eyes that color...and then it wasn't Flick, it was Scrayp, I was sure of it, only Scrayp was dead, he didn't belong here!

Scrayp opened his mouth, I couldn't tell what he was saying, but he moved forward and touched my arm, and it felt like walking on snow with bare feet, but a thousand times worse, like I'd been touched by a thousand razor sharp hairs, and I screamed again, thrashing blindly to get him away...

Galen!

And then, suddenly, there was a voice in my head, and it was raining, and I was in the backyard of the house.

Someone was talking, but I didn't know who, I couldn't see anyone, it was too dark.

Galen, stop it, get a hold of yourself...

As the credits began rolling on the screen, it got the expected response.

Reacher up and threw popcorn willy nilly at the screen. "Another!" she demanded hysterically.

Raina and Dent were passing money between them. I had suspected they were betting on how it would turn out for a while now--they kept exchanging significant glances. Yet another thing to tell their parents later...they'd gotten in trouble for gambling before.

Conner and Kayr had dropped off Dent and Keith around two. Conner was helping Cassie learn how to control the wind stuff, and Kayr was taking the other two horseback riding (I could see Conner biting back an argument at that, she was trying to keep them from becoming as horse-obsessed as Kayr), so those two had been stuck with me. Not that I minded. In fact, the more the merrier.

The more actual kids we had to watch, the less Rayk remembered to watch me.

I wasn't nine, or twelve, or fifteen. I didn't need to be watched, supervised or coddled. I was doing fine.

I was doing great, in fact.

I made lunch (without burning it, I'll add), took the kids outside (before it started raining metaphorical cats and dogs), and when Rayk left to go dirtbiking with Lee, Camron (who was only there for Lee), Track (who was only there for Camron), and Fade, kept the kids from trying to smuggle their way to the place in his duffel. When Rayk came back, I cleaned up the mess he left on the floor, griping about it to him but not really minding, as that meant he had to watch the kids on his own for a bit. It could have been considered a perfect day.

Except it wasn't. It was the kind of day glossed over, repainted, certain parts cut out and taped in differently. I had built up a shell around myself, but the anniversary always broke through a few cracks, reminded me of its existence.

Funny how a date could have such meaning.

He used to text me, every year. I'd try to respond, but I never could, so they would be deleted angrily, only to later regret it in a moment of pain. He'd stopped the year I grew ill.

No.

The past was the past.

Shut it out.

While Rayk turned on the next Disney movie for the kids (Switch would murder me if she saw how lax I was about reinforcing the rules while she was gone; they hadn't finished their homework, were eating junk, and had spent the day watching movies and making a mess), I headed to the kitchen to make another batch of popcorn. And maybe a batch of brownies. Chocolate was good comfort food. Maybe I'd even get a taste before the others stole them all...

I was mixing up the batter when I heard the sound. Okay, so I was licking the spoon, but it was my brownies, and the brownies were in the pan. Screw the eating stuff raw rule.

The doorbell rang.

I heard Rayk muttering something to the kids about it probably being Charge or West, come to see the shadow wolves, and that he'd tell them they weren't here. The shadow wolves were temporarily banned from the Herric household, after the triplets got into a big messy scheme with them.

I shook my head at him as I passed. "I'll get the door, Rayk," I interrupted. No reason to spoil their fun time. I thrust the new bowl of popcorn at him to pass around, and went to the front door. I waved a hand at the kids as they thanked me, stuffing their faces with popcorn.

The doorbell sounded again, a little more hesitant. I could hear the sound of feet, scraping the doorstep and shifting impatiently.

Charge.

West was never impatient. He was too...nice. It could only be Charge. Now that I thought about it, West was out somewhere on a trip for Wolfram, with Drift.

I took a breath, composing myself, then opened the door, prepared for the sight of a hunched over, brightly colored man in a black beanie, mirrored sunglasses hiding his neon eyes, holding a fistful of the shadow wolves--Henges--favorite granola and looking hopefully at me, asking about the shadow wolves yet again. It was quite infuriating, and I suppose rather endearing at the same time, that years later, Charge had his child-like innocence.

The sight I got was not what I'd been waiting for. And yet, it was, in so many horrible ways, so many times I couldn't count them...

I saw brown hair--messier than before--pulled back in a loose ponytail, ragged and dirty from several missed trims and washes. It was still the same brown hair he would sweep back years ago, flashing me that grin of his as he tried to cheer me up, or flirted with me in his own, idiot way. The eyes, hollow, sunken into that face, revealing long nights with no sleep, and shifting back and forth nervously, as if he expected an attack any minute, but still the same brilliant green--the light hadn't faded-- with that glint in his eye that I both hated and loved, not that I would ever tell the enigma. I didn't have to. He was able to tell those things. Since we met, it'd been like he could read my mind, the idiot always knowing when I had a headache, often before even I knew...

That smile gracing the corners of his mouth, twitching up in a pale imitation of the smirk he'd had years ago when we first met, not full of false bravado--though that was certainly there--or the confidence he'd oozed before, as he told a joke that fell flat once again, but hope, and...something else. Something I didn't want to see. At all.

"Galen? Why's the door still open? Just tell him they're not..." Rayk poked his head around the corner, then stopped talking. Actually he stopped moving, apparently as shocked as I was.

"Heya, Galen. Long time, huh?" His voice, hoarse from under-use, and hesitant, but...it was him, without a doubt. And that voice was what made me snap. The way he sounded like he'd just popped out to the grocery store for a bit, not abandoned me--us--for fourteen years. Not sorry. Not begging for forgiveness.

"Henge! Give me my cookie back!"

"Abby! Mommy!"

I sighed, sitting back on the couch, waiting for Switch to come in once she halted the argument going on. She did come in eventually, Jack on one hip and Raina trailing after her, pouting at the gnawed on cookie in her chubby fist.

"Sorry about the mess, Galen," she said apologetically. I gave the three year old on her hip a meaningful look, and she blushed. "Its just--with Shift away helping West with that kid, the place is a bit..." I held up a hand, using the other to mask a yawn.

"Say no more. You call me to help clean, I will help clean. Where should I start?"

As much as I hated to admit it, the main house had gotten lonely enough so that I'd been tempted to visit Kayr just for a change. Cleaning Switch's house wasn't that bad in comparison. Switch and Shift were busy with their kids--eight year old Abby, with her three year old triplet brother and sisters, made quite a lot of work for them. Rayk was more often here helping, and when he wasn't, he was either in town in the apartment he'd rented, or Sams cabin. Crystal had moved out--not exactly a shocker--soon after, complaining of wanting her own space. The place was a little quieter without her grumbling about anything and everything up to the color of the freaking wall. Over time, the house had just emptied out, leaving a strangely lonely presence. Not that we hadn't still had people staying, and Wolfram added new people all the time. I was still mad at him, and I made no effort to befriend the new folks.

He still wouldn't tell me what had happened.

Pain shot through my head, and I muttered a rude word under my breath, putting a hand to my head. I'd gotten more headaches recently. I wasn't sure why, and our resident doc was currently one town away--he usually worked in town at the clinic, but they'd swapped him briefly for some reason--so until then, I had no answer as to the reason why.

Switch looked torn between concern for my headache and wanting to scold me for using such language in front of Jackie and Raina.

"You alright, Gala?" she asked, using an old nickname for me.

I grimaced. "I'm fine, Switch." Jack reached out to me, a frown on his face. Smiling, I reached out and took him with a sigh.

"Auntie Gale hurt?" he asked me solemnly, looking up with big green eyes so much like Shift it almost hurt.

I grinned crookedly, reaching out to ruffle his dark locks. "I'm fine, kiddo. Why don't you help me with this mess for your mom? I bet she'd like a break." He pouted. "C'mon, don't get stubborn with me, Jackie. I can out-stubborn all of you."

He shook his head. "Uhuh! I st'born-er!" Looking at him, his green eyes flashing, his jaw jutting out as he tried to look as stubborn and set in his ways as possible, I was reminded of another boy with green eyes who would look at me like that when I refused to tell him what was wrong...

I grunted, holding both hands to my head. If anything, my hurt head even worse now. Head hurt. Not hurt head. I mixed up the words...

Whatever.

Switch rushed to catch Jack before he fell, startled. She got up and felt my forehead. "Galen, you're burning up!" She sounded beyond worried. "You need to get back and take care of yourself!" She called to the other room. "Abby, could you watch your siblings for a bit? I need to get your aunt home. Just holler out the door if you need help--your uncle is next door, and Spencer is home with his parents." I shook my head weakly, but didn't protest further as Switch helped me out the door. I barely made it out the door before another shooting pain went through my head, and I muttered another not-so-nice word. It took all I could manage just to get home with Switch's help.

"Galen? Whats wrong?"

"Oh my gosh, Switch, whats going on? Galen? Can you hear me?"

"Lucas, give me back my cake--what the--whats wrong with Galen?"