Yeah baby! I am in the writing mood. Can you freaking believe this! 4 updates all within less than a month! Can you freaking believe it.

And just because I'm in such a incredibly happy and giving mood. For those of you who keep asking. I will re-post the original versions of Fire and the Furball and Ice King.

There happy. I know I am. (happy dance, happy dance)

Now READ, REVIEW, ENJOY.

And for those of you who don't review. Now smexy Shateal with whip cream and nothing else on.

Chapter 12

He wasn’t there when I got ready for work, wasn’t there when I left the apartment, or the building. He wasn’t even there when I got to work. And for some weird reason I thought he would be. Somewhere in the back of my mind a little voice had been saying he’d be there. That he was probably already there waiting for me. And now seeing that he wasn’t was putting a serious knot in my stomach and making my heart beat a thousand times faster than it really needed to be. Where was he?

Not at home, not in the building, not anywhere along my way to work. The entire bus ride and walk I’d found myself constantly looking over my shoulder expecting to see his car pull up behind me. So, of course he never did. Stupid movies and their overused clichés.

And now he wasn’t here waiting for me. Stupid voice. He wasn’t even inside chatting it up with Chris and Stel. But a guy in a light brown trench coat flashing a badge was.

“What are the cops doing here?” I wondered aloud as I stood outside the store looking in, smiling uneasily at Stel when she noticed me and started towards the door.

“What’s going on?” I asked as she walked outside to greet me, though from the look on her face it didn’t seem as though I was going to like whatever she had to say.

“Justice what are you doing here? You should be at home resting.” She signed, though the worried look on her face was more sorrowful than concerned. Which really wasn’t helping my mood any.

“I’m fine Stel. What’s with the cop?” I asked looking through the store window to the man Chris was now waving in my direction.

“Justice.” Stel began.

“Justice Cross?” The man asked stopping Stel from saying whatever she had been going to say.

“Yes,” I answered warily, eyeing the man up and down as he opened his coat pulling a small piece of paper from an interior pocket.

“Do you know this woman?” he asked handing me the paper that turned out to be a photo. It was a picture of my mother dead on a metal table with bruises and scrapes all over her face.

“It’s my mom.” I replied levelly, the knot in my stomach getting tighter the longer I stared at the photo. Until finally I remembered to blink and gave it back to the officer, looking at him as I did. “Where is she?”

“County morgue. We’ll need you to come…” his voice sort of trailed off after that. And my head filled with nothing. I stood staring at the officer, nodding every so often as he spoke, recalling nothing he said as he did. Just that his mouth was moving and nodding every now and again would keep him thinking that I was paying attention.

I wasn’t though, I remembered now.

The dream.

What had scared me last night. I’d watched my mother die in my dream. Saw her being killed. Saw the drug induced stupor she’d been in while receiving her fatal beating.

The entire ride to the station house I saw it over and over in my head. And by the time I got to the Morgue to identify her body, I knew how, where, and when each injury had been dealt. I knew about the seventeen bruises adorning her stomach, sides, chest and arms, the three short stab wounds in her left torso and mid section. All of which were now hidden under a thin white sheet.

After that the day went by in a soundless blur. I’d found out what needed to be done to have her body released to me for burial, received a list of number to call, then was dropped off back at the shop. Where Chris told me to go home and take the rest of today and tomorrow off. Instead I went to the market and picked up a few items I knew we were in need of.

When I got home he still wasn’t there. But three others were. Two of which in particular looked a lot like Nicholas, though one was a great deal older, and sitting on the couch in a light gray suit with a powder blue tie. While the other stood behind him in a black suit with no tie and as stern and unpleasant a face as his father was sporting, below him, but with far longer hair than I had seen on any of his other brothers. Since they looked so much like Nicholas I found it safe to assume they were his father and brother. The third man was Mr. Wood sitting in the chair by the stairs wearing his usual sliver frames and tan kit scarf.

“Mr. Wood.” I greeted with a silent nod then walked over to the island placing my load of groceries on the counter, ignoring the other two men as I went about my business.

“Ms. Cross,” Wood nodded back as he stood straightening his tan jacket, then gestured to the older man sitting on the couch. “Allow me to introduce Joshua Draco and his son Matthew Draco.”

“How can I help you?” I asked my eyes glued to the brown bag in front of me as I pulled a bag of oranges from it.

“You can tell why you are with my son Ms. Cross.” The older man spoke, cold, harsh, and thoroughly disapproving of me. What a surprise that was.

“My place got broken into and he was nice enough to let me stay with him.” I replied, easily, paying no heed to his tone as I ripped open the bag and placed a few of the fruits into the blow next to me.

“And your relationship with my son?” He continued, sounding slightly more annoyed, than when he had first spoken.

“We’re friends.”

“My son does not have female friends.” He stated, as if for Nicholas to have even one member of the opposite sex as a friend was an affront to nature.

“So I keep hearing.” I replied with a sigh as I walked around the island to the fridge pulling the bag off the counter and setting it in front of the fridge to unload its remaining contents.

“And how long do you think you will remain friends with my son?” he asked skeptically.

“For as long as he wants me to be.” I said in the same nonchalant tone I’d been using since we started this conversation.

“I imagine that will as soon as he grows tired of you. Or rather your freeloading, since I can see nothing of you that would even be remotely appealing to my son. ” He remarked smugly, as though he had gained the upper hand. Wow I’m an ugly mooch. That’s new.

“I’m sure you can’t. But then it’s not what you have. It’s how you use it.” I replied with a smug smile as I folded the bag, stood and closed the refrigerator door.

“Yes, I’m certain the daughter of a whore would know a thing or two about satisfaction, but then given your track record with men. Perhaps I’m mistaken.” He added with his own smug smile as he too stood.

“You have no idea.” I replied. “Now if you’re done insulting me, you can get the hell out.” I said tossing my head towards the door.

“Ms. Cross --” Wood began and was quickly silenced with my next comment.

“Wood you’ve done a fine job of keeping quite. Let’s not ruin it now.” I said leveling my most withering stare on him as I did. “And as I said Mr. Draco, if you’re finished.”

“I own this building Ms. Cross. I could easily call the police and have you removed from it.” He replied.

“I’m sure if had any intention of actually calling the cops Mr. Draco you wouldn’t be here right now. Which leaves me to assume if you are going to have me thrown out, it’ll be Matty over there who does it.” I stated, with a toss of me head in Matthew’s direction. “Cause you just don’t strike me as the type to get his hands dirty, especially when there’s someone else to do it for you.” I smiled, casting a quick glance to Matthew as I did.

Egging on a Dragon, Justice? That’s just brilliant. Why don’t you just throw your-self in front a bus next? I heard my inner of voice of reason remark at my sudden insanity. Something I was found myself oddly enjoying at the moment.

“You will stay away from my son.” Draco stated, a cool tempered rage brewing in his eyes.

“Why? Because I’m such a bad influence?” I questioned. “You afraid I’ll sully your son’s pristine reputation. Or call his virtue into question.” I mocked, knowing I was banking the limits of Draco’s tolerance, yet I couldn’t seem to help myself. The words just kept coming even as the warning bells to shut up were going off in my head. “Cause from what I hear that ships all ready sailed, at least hundred times over. And it hurts him every time it does. Because the only reason he does it is for you.” I spat the word out, and gasped as I was slammed onto the counter top of the island, all the air in my body escaping in one surprised whoosh and having a great deal of difficulty returning as Draco stood over me his hand wrapped tightly around my throat. Keeping what little air I needed from entering my lungs and keeping me conscious.

It was a beautiful sunny day, clam and sweet in its peaceful glow, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was Maria. His beautiful Maria. His sweet, fragile, love. She was giving birth, giving him a son. And she was dying because of it.

His sons stood scattered about the room watching as he paced back and forth. Each strong in his own right, each born to a pure blood Draconian mother, each from a different time, a different country, but all here now, watching their father fret over the health of a human. A human he was torn between going to and running from just to try and escape the pain of what he knew was coming. Torn between cursing her, cursing the Powers, and cursing him-self.

Of all the women he could have had to mate, the Powers had chosen her. A human. All his sons before had been born to Sindian mothers, they were pure in blood and power. So he had not loved their mothers as he loved her, did the Powers truly think it fitting to make this, his souls son, offspring to a human mother? Not Sindian, or Hybrid, or even Halfling. But Human!

This was his fault, all his fault. He knew a child would kill her, he knew she wasn’t strong enough to bare it, not a babe of his blood. She’d been sickly all her life and the power to bare his child would be too much. Had she been Sindian he could have easily bonded her life force to his, but no she had been born human. A weak, fragile, limited human. The best he could do was bind her soul to his, and find her again in her next life.

How he hated that thought, hated her more for it. He’d waited so long to find her only to lose her now. He hated her for this, for being human, for wanting to give him a child, for doing so now. Most of all he hated himself for having fallen to her wishes. He’d been such a fool to think the Powers were not so cruel as to take her from him.

And here he stood fretting over who to blame when his soul mate was in pain because of him. He had just decided to go to her, when the nurse walked through the door carrying a small bundle wrapped in crushed white silk and lace, placing the small being gently in his arms, leaving him to him stare down in muted awe at his son, as he had stared at all his sons.

For despite this world’s limitations on his kind, despite the ugly transformations it constantly seemed to go through. The one and only constant beauty he had ever found was that of human birth. It never failed to astonish him that something so small and utterly incapable could grow into something of massive greatness, or total disaster. The potential for whatever was there, untrained, untamed, and completely unknown.

“Your wife said his name is Nicholas.” The nurse said sadly. And it was that note of sadness that pulled his attention from the happy bundle in his arms to the pale dead form of his wife laying in her bed. The door to her room swinging ever so slowly closed as he stared at her still lifeless face. Until finally it shut and all that had been his soul was shut away with her.

Slowly my eyes opened, blurry and raw, my throat dry and sore as I breathed. Why was my throat so sore? I wondered as I reached to touch it, wincing as I did and remembering that Nicholas’ father had strangled me into blacking out, which drew me to my next question. Why was I staring up at the ceiling above the living room, when I’d pasted out in the kitchen?

“Nicholas?” I rasped, slowly leaning up off the couch as I did.

“Not quite.” came a familiar male voice, but only because it sounded so much like Nicholas.

Looking over to the kitchen I found Matthew standing at the island twisting a lemon wedge against a fork, as the juice generously dripped from the tines into the steaming glass of water below it.

“What are you doing here?” I crooked, accusingly, wincing again at the pain of my throat.

“Cleaning up.” He marked setting the fork in the sink as he walked over to me with the glass. “Drink. It’ll help with the soreness.” He stated, nodding to my neck as he handed me the warm glass and sat on the couch to me left.

“Why?” I asked, eyeing him skeptically.

“Is none of your concern.” He replied levelly. “Drink.” Staring suspiciously at the warm liquid in my glass then at him I slowly tilted my glass and drank. Slightly wondering how I had no problem drinking warm tea, yet warm lemon water made me want to gag. Once I had finished my glass and put in on table. Matthew nodded in what looked like approval and rose.

“Good. Now go take a shower and change into a turtle neck when you’re done.” He instructed.

“Excuse me.” I remarked caught aback by his orders.

“Unless you want Nicholas to go off, when he finds out our father was here and tried to kill you.” He added, and then explained, seeming to think I was too dense to figure it out from there. “Shower and he won’t smell him. Wear the turtle neck and he won’t see the bruise my father left behind.”

“But I don’t own a turtle neck.” I replied stupidly, receiving a very exasperated eye roll for my response.

“Go take a shower and I’ll get one from Nicholas’ closet. Just tell him you were cold and he’ll think nothing it.” he stated, as he turned for Nicholas’ room.

“What about your Father’s scent?” I asked, rising from my seat as I did.

“What about it?”

“He was in the apartment. I know showering will get the scent off me, but what about out here?” I questioned.

“What part of cleaning up did you not understand?” He replied sharply, turning from Nicholas’ door, then explained further with a long suffering sigh as he looked at me. “He is my father thus our scents our very nearly the same. I stayed behind to cover his.” He added. “Now do as I say and go shower.” He snapped, before turning back to Nicholas’ room and going in.

After a quick shower and very through scrubbing down, I left my bathroom to find a dark green turtle neck sweater sitting folded neatly on my bed, a pair of my black pants and socks sitting next to it.

He went through my drawers!

Quicker than I thought possible I pulled the clothes on and marched out into the living room finding him at the front door pulling on his coat. And for a few seconds looking for all the world just like Nicholas, as he pulled his hair free.

Shaking my head viciously I shook myself from my stupor and reminded myself why I was out here. “You went through my drawers!” I snapped, glaring at him as he adjusted the collar of his coat.

“Yes.” He said. “And for a woman who’s living with my brother. Your choice of attire leaves much to be desired. But then perhaps my brother has acquired some sort of homeless fetish and that’s why he’s neglected to buy you anything descent.” He remark, as he slowly ran his eyes up my body to me face, making me see red as he did.

“I am not nor have I ever been homeless.” I bit. “And just because my clothes don’t appeal to your high standards doesn’t mean they need to. Not everyone can afford to shop at Tiffany’s or Macy’s or whatever the hell it is you get your clothes from. And just because I’m living with your brother doesn’t mean I have to dress like some high society hoity-toity twit.” I finished, with a scathing glaring and flushed face.

“You’re braver than the others.” He said with a slow easy smile and I couldn’t decide what had stopped up my rage quicker, his words or the unexpected smile that had accompanied them.

“Thanks.” I replied automatically, receiving a quite nod as he open the door and left.

I was laying on the couch watching P.S. I love You, a half eaten bowl of spaghetti sitting in front of me, when Nicholas finally got home. He burst through the front door like bat out of hell, nearly knocking me off the couch with the shock of his sudden and loud entrance as the door slammed into the walled. For the longest time he just stood there only a few feet from the front door. That was now wavering slowly back and forth like a drunk, only moments from hitting the floor. And still Nicholas just stood there staring at me. His face filled with panic and worry and…surprise?

“Hi.” I said, breaking awkward and highly uncomfortable silence. “Hungry?” I asked, quickly picking up the half eaten bowl of spaghetti to show what I had made. Slowly he shook his head, taking a step forward only to stop, when I held out my hand. “Door.” I said glancing over to it still standing wide open. With a dumb nod he turned to shut it, while I turned back around to the movie, placing the blow back on the coffee table as I did.

Watching Nicholas from the corner of my eye as I saw him come into the living room, tossing his coat onto the couch to my left as he sat down next to me, his eyes glued on me in a very unnerving manner.

“You can stop staring at me anytime.” I replied dropping my head slightly to cover the blush I could feel lighting my cheeks. Apparently this was something Nicholas wasn’t having, as he reached out brushing the hair back behind my ear and keeping it there as he left his hand on my cheek, and just held it there.

“Justice,” he said. “Justice,” he said again moving his hand from my cheek to chin as he gently cupped and turn my face to his. “I know about your mother.” Those five words and my eyes welled up like a three year-old. The one thing I hadn’t managed to do all day. The one thing I had been trying to do since I found out. The one thing I’d wanted to get done with before he got back, and he had me balling with just those words. Sobbing uncontrollably into his arms getting tears, and snot, and other disgusting things on his shirt, as he held me, rubbing my back, and whispering words I couldn’t hear into my ear.

I stayed there in his arms, until I felt tried and foggy and my head was swimmy with all the pent up emotion of the day. Numbly I tried to figure out when I had gone from sitting right next to him to being huddled in his lap like a five-year-old, with his head resting on top of mine, and P.S. I love you playing the menu theme song for the third time.

“Where did you go last night?” I asked, hearing the child like tone in my voice. Something I’m sure I would have hated had I not been too numb to really care how young and small it made me sound.

“Patrol.” He replied.

“Could you leave a note next time.” I said pulling in tighter as I tried to snuggle closer to him. Trying to stave off the inner cold I knew wouldn’t be denied.

“Why? You miss me?” he asked and I could hear the light teasing in his voice as he did.

“Missed my ride.” I replied, with my own teasing. “You’re spoiling me with that car service of yours.” I remarked my eyes idly tracing the hand he had wrapped around my arm, as he slowly moved it up and down.

“Why was Matthew here?” he asked, his teasing tone replaced with something else. Something serious, and cold.

“The same reason Akira was. To see what all the fuss was about.” I shrugged feeling colder with his tone. And instead of snuggling closer as I wanted to do, I got up and headed for my room, stopping when he caught my hand.

“You okay?” he asked looking up at me, his face a stoic mask where his eyes were not. And it was though eyes that had me leaving. In them was concern, and sorrow, and so many other things. And they were all meant for me.

“No.” I replied with a weak smile. “But there’s not much I can do about that. Good night.” I squeezed his hand and left.

I could feel the tears sliding down my cheeks as lay in bed small damp pools forming on my pillow as I lay there. Trying to stop crying, trying to figure out why I was in the first place. It seemed like I’d been crying for forever when I felt the bed dip and rise behind me, then felt Nicholas’ arms wrap around me one above my head, soothing back the few stray hairs that refused to stay with the rest of my hair. The other draped at my waist, his hand covering the one I had fisted in the covers.

“I can’t stop crying.” I cried, burying my face into the pillow.

“Do you need to stop?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re here. I don’t want to cry in front of you.” I croaked.

“I don’t mind.”

“I do. I’m not the type of girl to start crying at the littlest thing.”

“Your Mother just died Justice. That’s hardly a little thing.” He remarked.

“It should be. It shouldn’t matter.”

“Why not? She was your mother.”

“No. She was the woman who gave birth to me. That’s all. A mother doesn’t say she’s going to the store and run off to Atlantic city for the week with her boy friend. A mother doesn’t steal the rent for drugs. And she sure as hell doesn’t let her john’s…”I stopped as I realized what I was about to say in front of him. What I’d never said in front of anyone, not even Stel and she knew almost everything my mother had ever done to me. “She’s not my mother.” I whispered out.

For the longest time he said nothing, just held me to him. The arm he had draped over my waist wrapping itself around my stomach.

“You told me you’d never been abused.” He said at last.

“I told you I’d never been sexually abused.” I replied taking a great deal of comfort when I felt him pull me closer and bury his face against the back of my neck. Feeling his breath there until he spoke again.

“When was my father here?”

Remember if you review. You get smexy Shateal in whip cream. Except for you Silent Whisper! My minions will make you pay with the next update of Ice King. Quiver and fear my wrath. Whahahahahahaha! (cough, hack, choke) Damnit Stupid flies.

Thank you and have a nice day. ; )