Becca's vow to protect Heather runs straight into a complication she hadn't seen, and a limitation she can't avoid. With time running short, can The Advocate do what must be done -- without using her power?

by Randalynn

---

 
 

"A hero is someone who understands the responsibility
that comes with his freedom." -- Bob Dylan
 

"Nature abhors a hero. For one thing, he violates the law
of conservation of energy. For another, how can it be the survival of
the fittest when the fittest keeps putting himself in situations
where he is most likely to be creamed?" -- Solomon Short
 
 

As I held Heather, I tried to think past the rage, and realized that the situation was trickier than I first realized.

The nature of the spell that had changed Hunter made her feel and act like Heather whenever she was around other people. Thanks to my status as The Advocate, I was apparently immune to whatever made everyone else see her as Heather -- and she was immune to whatever made her be Heather around others when just we two were together. This added another dimension to the problem.

I had to get her away from her father, but not placed in state custody or a foster home. If that happened, she'd be forced to be Heather nearly every minute of every day -- never alone, always surrounded by people who only saw her as a young girl, abused by her father. I didn't know enough about the magic those girls had used to change her reality, so all I had were questions. Would having to be Heather all the time destroy what was left of Hunter? I just didn't know. I needed to keep her here with me, until I could get this whole magic mess sorted out.

Besides, I thought, she's fragile. Heather needs me ... and right now she needs Jeremy, too. I can't have her out there alone and friendless when the whole point of all this is to keep her safe and whole until I can fix things. If ... no, when I manage to get her life back as Hunter, I want him to know he has friends.

Suddenly, the beginnings of a plan began to form in the back of my mind, and I pushed Heather away slightly to get her attention.

"Hea ... Hunter?" She looked up at me, tears streaking her pale face. "Can you ... remember Heather's memories when you're with me?"

"Sort of," she said. "More emotions than memories. For example, I can still feel Jeremy's ... love surrounding me, and my ... how I feel for him. It's stronger than what Hunter felt, so it pushes my old feelings aside, kinda."

"Can you remember ... exactly what your father does ... to Heather?"

She shook violently all over, and I hugged her tighter. "Just the fear ... and pain ... and disgust when its over and he leaves me and I ache and I'm messy and all I want to do is cry..."

"Ssssssh, baby," I whispered, just holding her. "It's okay. I told you I'm going to fix this, and I am. I'm just trying to figure out how." Heather nodded, and I let the shaking subside some. I began again, tentatively. "I need you to try something for me. I know it's going to hurt if it works, but I need you to go down the hall away from me and try to remember how things always start with your Dad ... as Heather."

She started shaking her head. "I can't!"

"Ssssssh," I said softly. "You don't have to remember anything else, just how it starts. I know it's going to be rough, but I have the beginnings of a plan, and I need to know." Tears flowed out from under her eyelids as she bowed her head, and impulsively I gave her a squeeze. She looked up, surprised, right into my eyes, and I smiled. After a bit, her lips twitched, and a smile slowly crept onto her face as well.

"You're my friend, hon, and I wouldn't hurt you for anything. But if you can do this, I think I can get him out of your life ... well, Heather's life ... forever." I spoke solemnly, and held her eyes with mine. "He will never touch you again."

"Can't you just ... you know ... use magic or something?" Heather rested her head on my shoulder, trying not to look at me at all. "Can't you just make him stop, or just ... go away?"

I thought about it for a second. "I'm pretty sure I could do both. But I'm not sure I should."

She pulled back and looked at me, confused. "Why?"

"Well, I'm new at this," I replied tentatively. "I'm still not sure exactly what I'm supposed to use my powers for. I do know I'm here to stop magical abuses, not cause them for my own purposes. Maybe I can do whatever I like and hang the consequences, but I don't know. It's also possible I could confuse or even corrupt the magic those girls used if I use my magic to change the Universe they created ... when they changed you. If I change the pattern too much magically, they might not be able to set things right later."

I shook my head. "I'm still too new at this to know for sure, but when it comes to fixing what your life is now, we have to do it the old-fashioned way. Or as close to the old-fashioned way as we can." Heather put her head back on my shoulder and we sat like that for a while.

"So ... can you try to remember? For me?" I felt her nod, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "That's my girl!" She laughed. "What's so funny?"

She looked up into my eyes, and smiled. "I never thought I'd ever be happy to hear someone call me their girl," she said. "First Jeremy, now you. Even if I had to lose everything I had, it feels good to finally have ... friends." Heather looked down, avoiding my eyes. "Thank you for being here for me, Becca. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along outside."

"You'd have done your best, which is all anyone can ask of herself," I said seriously, and touched the tip of her nose with mine. She laughed. "Now go see what you can remember, hon, while I think this out some more. If it hurts too much, you come right back and we'll think of something else, 'kay?"

Heather stood up unsteadily on her heels, gave me a half-hearted salute, and walked over to the door and out into the hall.

I have to make this work, I thought. I can't let anything happen to her. I won't.

I was amazed at how quickly Heather had become family -- and how determined I was to keep her from harm.

"You shouldn't be surprised," the lavender bear piped up from the corner of the bed, near the pillows. "It's part of what makes you a good choice for Advocate. Your ability to care -- to even forgive and embrace those others in your position would have considered enemies -- is what gives you the balance to use the powers we have given you wisely."

"It's just being human ... and humane," I snapped, irritated and embarrassed at another compliment. "I keep trying to tell you I'm not so special."

"And we will continue to tell you how wrong you are," the bear replied formally, with a touch of irritation in her cultured British tones. "By overestimating humanity as a whole, you overestimate the virtues of the humans you will be dealing with. As a result, you run the risk of being unprepared for the level of treachery and deceit you will face in your position." The bear sighed, and softened its tone. "Becca, the Omnipresence has entrusted you with powers and authority never before given to a human. Although you are loathe to admit it, the reason for the trust placed in you is that, in many ways, you embody the best of what humanity has to offer."

"And the minute I start believing you when you tell me that, I'll become as big a jerk as Leander," I said softly, settling back on the bed and folding my legs under me in a position that should have been uncomfortable, but wasn't.

The bear shook her head. "Impossible," she said. "I think you believe it could happen, but it won't. It isn't in you."

Still embarrassed, I changed the subject. "You overheard my conversation with Heather?"

The bear nodded. "And caution is definitely indicated. Mixing different magicks is a tricky affair, and sometimes results in unforeseen consequences. With the age and power of the magick these girls are using, there's no telling what might happen."

"Still, there is a chance I will have to go up against them, my power against theirs," I said. "What will happen then?"

Suddenly I heard a thud from the hallway, and I leaped towards the door. Opening it, I found Heather collapsed on the floor, crying. Carolyn's door flew open and Jeremy appeared from the kitchen simultaneously, and as Heather curled up into a ball, I got down on the floor with her and cuddled her in close, hugging and shushing as best I could.

"Oh, Becca, I'm so sorry," she sobbed. "It just hurt so much to remember, and when I did, I ... remembered what came after, and ... and ..."

"What's going on?" Mom said, obviously confused.

"Heather? What's wrong?" Jeremy stood at the end of the hall, unsure of what to do.

Suddenly a piece of the plan clicked into place, and I knew what we needed. I just knew.

We needed allies.

###

We sat at the kitchen table an hour later. With my urging, Heather had finally spilled everything about her father's abuse in a flood of tears as she lay there on the hallway floor. Jeremy and Mom were furious and horrified, and even though everyone there was clearly on her side, she kept looking everywhere in the hallway except at Jeremy.

"Why didn't you tell me this was happening, baby?" He had asked her softly, a touch of hurt behind the words. She turned her face to the wall and sniffled.

"Because ... because I thought, if you knew ... you wouldn't want me anymore." Her voice was so small and hurt, I ached in sympathy. "I'm ... used, aren't I? Just a little slut, he calls me. You can do so much better."

Once again, Jeremy showed me a depth I never knew he had. He kneeled down next to her and touched her shoulder.

"You thought that, did you?" She nodded. "Well, then, you're a dummy." Heather turned and looked at him in surprise, and he smiled and gave her a small kiss. "I love you, stupid. The fact that your Dad is an evil lecherous hump doesn't change that. That's not how love works. You're not 'used.' You're perfect. And there's no one better for me than you. So come get hugged, okay? God knows you could use all the hugs in the world and then some."

All this from a twelve-year-old boy. I was so proud of my son I could burst.

She gave a little mewling sound and threw herself into his arms. Mom and I exchanged a warm glance over their heads, and a few minutes later we found ourselves around the kitchen table with steaming mugs of cocoa and a whole lot of rage between us.

Heather and Jeremy were holding hands, with frequent squeezes. Emma had heard everything in the hallway and had joined us in the kitchen, as angry as the rest of us. I had a plan -- one I believed would work perfectly -- but Carolyn was the true adult here, and I couldn't just step on her prerogatives as Mom.

"We have to call the authorities," she said decisively. "We can't let her go back to that house tonight."

"We have no proof," I replied softly. "Just Heather's word versus his."

"Social services will take her side." Carolyn's voice was flat. "She won't be with him anymore."

"But this will go on for weeks or months, and with a good lawyer he could beat the case." Again, my voice was soft, my eyes down, focused on my cup of cocoa. Non-confrontational, that's tonight's exercise in being Carolyn's daughter instead of her husband, I thought. "In the meantime, she'll be shuffled from foster home to foster home. And who knows what kind of monsters she could meet out there ... alone in the system?"

"I can't not call the authorities, Becca," she said with a spurt of anger. "Not with what I know now. And I can't just let her stay here with us without getting the courts involved. What do you want me to do?"

For a long time, I was silent, with Mom glaring at me. It seemed like everyone else was holding his or her breath, waiting for one of us to say something. And she asked the question, opening the door for me. It was my turn to speak, and I was about to try and take command.

What I still hadn't figured out was whether Carolyn would let me.

"We need to get her Dad dead to rights, with something that will stand up in court," I said, looking up into her eyes. "And we need to do it now. Tonight."

Everyone turned and looked at me simultaneously. The silence was deafening.

"And we need to get her away from the system and bring her home with us, before social services latches onto her. It's where she belongs -- with people who love her."

Then ... I told them all my plan.

###

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

"It's the best way, Mom. We can --"

"You can put yourself in danger is what you can do," she said. "Cutting corners works well on TV, but in real life, you're going to get yourself hurt or killed trying to pull a stunt like that. Both you and Heather."

"Police officers do it all the time," I said, trying to remain reasonable.

"Yes, they do." Carolyn's voice held an unmistakable edge. "With backup, warrants, and weapons. You have NONE of those!"

"You're right." I nodded, and she looked startled. "But what we do have is surprise. He's ... been doing this to her for a long time, and Heather never told anyone before. So he won't be expecting this."

Carolyn turned to Heather, her voice softening. "Heather, baby?" She looked up. "Why didn't you ever tell anyone?"

Heather looked down, and Jeremy squeezed her hand.

"First, he told me ... if I told anyone, he would make it look like ... it was all my idea," she whispered. "He'd claim I came on to him, and the more time passed ... the longer I kept quiet, the more it would seem like I ... like I really wanted him that way." She shuddered all over. "But I didn't! And the first time I said no to him, he ... beat me so badly I had to stay home from school for a week, it hurt so bad. After that, I just ... just ..."

Jeremy wrapped his arms around her and held her as she cried soundlessly, tears pouring down her face.

"It's okay, baby," Carolyn said gently. "It's not your fault, no matter what he said."

"This is not about whose fault this is." I looked down into my cocoa. "It's about how he could make her look in front of a jury ... or on the front page of a newspaper."

I could feel Carolyn's anger from across the table, matching mine. We all stayed quiet for a minute, then I looked up at the woman who used to be my wife and spoke. Calmly. Rationally.

"Mom, you're a lawyer. You know we need evidence, and we can get it tonight. And you know people ... judges ... police officers. You can call the authorities in, and get custody of Heather once this is over.

"Becca, I --"

Then I just lost it. "Mom, please listen. We can do this! We have to do this!"

Her face hardened, and I knew the conversation was over. She stood up, towering over me.

"What I just heard tells me I don't want you anywhere near that man. Heather either. He beat his own daughter to a pulp, and you want me to let you walk in there? No! You're thirteen years old, Becca! We call the police and we do this by the book." The resolve in her voice told me that, for her, the case was closed. "I'll pull whatever strings I can find to get us to keep Heather once her Dad is in custody. But that's as far as I can go." She sighed, and bowed her head. "Now, you take Heather into your room and wait for the police to show up."

"But --"

Her head came up. "NOW, Rebecca!"

I rose, took Heather's hand, and stormed off down the hall to my bedroom. Once we were in, I slammed the door, breathing hard.

Heather collapsed on the bed and sobbed. I waited for the walls to stop shaking and for my anger to subside. As I stood there listening to her cry, I ran the whole thing through my brain one more time. The plan felt right. Logically, it was crazy and dangerous as hell, but when I first agreed to become the Advocate, the Arbiters told me to trust my instincts. Deep down, in my soul, I knew this was the best way to make things come out the way they should.

And I knew I had to follow that feeling, no matter how right Carolyn was about how mind-bogglingly stupid this little adventure really was.

Almost mechanically, I went over to the closet and took down my video camera, I checked to make sure the battery was charged, and I had a blank tape. I went through my purse, but I had no lipstick, just gloss. That won't do, I thought numbly.

Heather stopped crying and watched me, her head tilted to one side. I searched through the desk drawers for electrical tape, but found nothing.

"What are you doing?" she sniffled.

"Getting the goods on your Dad, if you'll help."

"Wha ... what can I do?"

"First, do you have some lipstick? Something dark and heavy, like you were wearing earlier tonight?"

She shook her head. "Sure. In my bag, I think. Not your color, though." Heather froze, stunned. "Where did that come from?"

"From the Heather part of you, hon." I smiled, and she looked surprised. "She's leaking all over Hunter. Just look at you. In here with me, all alone, and still sitting like a girl. Back straight, knees together." She froze, realizing I was right, and I smiled and patted her hand. "Not to worry, girlfriend. After the emotional beating you put yourself through tonight, I'm not surprised. You've been through so much. I'm sure it will fade, given time."

She seemed to think about it for a second, then shrugged and searched through her purse. It had been lying discarded by the side of the bed, and it wasn't long before she came up with a black tube. "Here!" I caught it and opened it, then covered the power and recording lights with reddish goo.

"Now comes the hard part." I opened my window and popped the screen. "You're going to have to be brave, okay? We can't get what we need without you, and I'll be backing you up the whole time."

"You want me to ...?"

"Not want, hon. Need. He's only going to talk freely in front of you, because you're the only one who knows what he's being doing." I took her hand and looked into her eyes. "You trust me, right?"

"Yes," she said, then looked off toward the kitchen as if she could see Carolyn. "But your mom --"

"My mom has too much faith in the law and not enough faith in her daughter," I said. "Believe me, I know how easy it is for someone to find a loophole, no matter how good you think a rule is. Your Dad needs to be stopped, and we're the only ones who can make that happen. By getting the evidence we need to put him away. Okay?" I started climbing over the windowsill, and stopped halfway. I felt the edge pressing up between my legs through the thin panties I wore. "Coming?"

Heather just looked at me. "You're going over there ... like that?" I looked down at the same skirt, tee shirt, and blouse combo I'd worn that morning. My hair was still back in a ponytail, and for a second, I couldn't see the problem. Then I smiled.

"Remember when I got those guys off your back earlier?" She nodded. "I couldn't have kicked half as well in a pair of tight jeans. And since your Dad's kink is young girls, I can also use my legs as a distraction ... maybe. If I have to."

I shifted my weight slightly, and the windowsill pushed up hard into a part of me that was way too sensitive to be treated so roughly. Pulling my other leg up and over, I dropped to the ground outside my window with the camera bag slung over my shoulder. Heather's skirt was longer and tighter, and she had to sit on the window ledge and swivel both legs over before dropping next to me on the lawn. I half-caught her, and we smiled at each other before slipping as quietly as we could across the lawn to the street.

###

As we walked along hand in hand through the chilly night, I suddenly realized I was afraid. All evening, the anger and my concern for Heather had focused me on my mission, but now I felt frightened. Even though I tried to get past it with Carolyn, I had to admit she was right. No matter how many years I had lived as Jack, Becca was only thirteen years old, and she was about to go up against a man twice her size and three times her age.

For the first time since I woke up this morning, I felt ... tiny. Thin and delicate, and undeniably female. The cool air brushing against -- and between -- my legs, coupled with the swing of my hips and the soft bounce of my breasts as I walked, made me realize how defenseless I truly was against an opponent as big as Heather's father. Attitude and anger won't get you far, I thought sourly, especially against a ruthless thug who doesn't care who gets hurt. I shivered in spite of myself.

Of course I was the Advocate. I still had powerful magic on my side, and I was getting pretty darned good at using it effectively, even after just one "lesson." Unfortunately, if I used it directly against Heather's father to defend myself, I ran the risk of destroying any chance of getting Heather back to her life as Hunter.

I sighed.  This is sounding worse by the second, I thought. Maybe I should turn us both around and head for home ... let Carolyn sort this out.

Then Heather squeezed my hand, and I looked at her. She smiled at me through her own fear, and I realized I couldn't back out now. She was taking charge of her life, and counting on me to back her up. She was my first client, and my friend. And I made her ... and myself ... a promise.

The Advocate doesn't cut and run. I smiled and nodded at her, and she ducked her head, a little embarassed. Break a promise to myself the first time out, and what the hell good am I?

So, no magic then, I mused stoically. It's just me, Heather, a video camera, and a red belt in Tae-Kwon-Do -- all against the biggest piece of slime it has been my pleasure to avoid meeting ... until now.

The slime won't know what hit him.

My thoughts shifted to my conversation with the Arbiter earlier this evening. Heather's father was a prime example of the point she had been trying to make -- the inhumanity of man. And yet, I still couldn't bring myself to tar the entire species with the brush he represented. Maybe being immortal has made the Arbiters jaded, I thought. I know some police officers get that way over time, being exposed to so much hate and fear, pain and death. It must be far worse for someone who lives forever, in a job that shows them too much of humanity's greed and none of its nobility.

For a fleeting second, I wondered if I would come to see the world the way the Arbiters did, someday. Then suddenly, I realized that I couldn't. Unlike the Arbiters, I was human, and for good or ill, these were my people. Keeping them safe was my job ... and, I was surprised to discover, my honor.

###

I had never had any reason to go to Hunter's house before, but it didn't surprise me to find it was not so very far away. After all, we had shared a bus stop in her previous life, if nothing else. The house was big -- surprisingly so for just Heather and her Dad -- and mostly dark. The lawn was not overgrown but not recently mowed either. Being October, I guessed that her Dad had let the last mowing of the season go, just as I had when I'd been Jack.

I hated having something in common with him.

A dark-colored BMW 735i was parked out front at the curb. It was a few years old, but seemed in good shape. We crossed the front lawn as quietly as we could, avoiding the sidewalk and the street. On pavement, Heather's sandals made more noise than a castanet orchestra performing the 1812 Overture. I was counting on that noise later, but right now, quiet was the order of the day.

"He's in the living room?"

Heather nodded. "Usually. He comes home late a lot, and if I'm not here, he pours himself a drink and waits for me to come back. In there." She gestured towards the big window.

I looked, but didn't see any light against the curtains. "He just sits and waits ... in the dark?"

She shrugged. "Heavy curtains. He doesn't want anyone to see what goes on in his house. Anyway, the TV is on the far side of the room, facing away from the entryway. He's probably watching ... movies ... getting himself ... ready for me." She shivered, and I took her hand. Heather gave me an uncertain smile. "More ... leakage, I guess. I'm starting to remember the hell he's put her through."

"It ends tonight, right?" I looked into her eyes, and she gave me an uncertain smile. "We're going to end it, you and I. Starting now." I pulled the camera from the bag and turned it on. The viewfinder lit up, but the lipstick on the ready and record lights kept them dark. I didn't hit record yet. I didn't want it to save what I was about to do for posterity.

I had thought a lot about using magic for this part, and decided that something small wouldn't have a lot of effect on the template the girls had used to alter Heather's existence, if any. After all, I wasn't planning on making any wholesale changes to reality, magically speaking. I just wanted to perform a little sleight of hand ... without the hands.

I looked toward the house, and willed my eyes to see past the window and its dark curtains. I felt dizzy as my point of view swept right through the glass and fabric and into the house, hovering at waist level and getting a clear look at Heather's Dad. He was there all right, in a big easy chair with a highball glass in his hand, in a white dress shirt with his tie loosened. He was handsome but soft, as if a good-looking man had melted slightly over time. But I caught an edge of cruelty coming off him in waves -- a focused aggression that could win him victories in the conference room, but seemed out of place in this domestic setting. Or maybe not, I mused, watching him watching television. Maybe he's one of those people who want what they want and go for it at any cost.

Even if it was Heather paying the price.

On the screen, two "boys" a little too old for the football team were having their way with a girl just barely old enough to cheer. Heather's Dad was breathing a little shallow. His eyes were a shade too wide, and I could see the bulge in his dress pants clear across the room.

Terrific. I brought my viewpoint back outside and turned to Heather.

"He's there all right," I said softly. "Showtime, hon. Remember, I'll be right behind you."

To her credit, she didn't hesitate. Heather stood up straight, threw her shoulders back, and gave me a shaky smile. "Showtime," she whispered, and headed over to the driveway where her sandals would make the loudest noise. As the click-clacking of her sandals started, I looked around inside again and picked a good spot for the camera -- a small table near the window. I adjusted the lens for the widest field of view it had, then "imagined" the camera inside facing the man, the television, and the arch leading to the entryway. It disappeared from my hand, and I moved my sight back inside the room to find it exactly where I wanted it to go.

Damn, I thought, I am good.

With my mind, I looked through the viewfinder. Nothing to send to the Cannes Festival or Sundance, but I wasn't looking to win awards. I visualized pressing the record button, and was rewarded with a tiny whirring sound from the camera that went unnoticed under the orgasmic moaning of the "cheerleader" and the video's cheesy soundtrack. Heather was approaching the door, and I ran up behind her, soundless in my sneakers as she opened it with her key and walked inside. I slipped in behind her and let the door swing shut behind me.

"Well," said a deep voice with a touch of a Southern accent. "About time, missy. Keeping your Daddy waiting all night for you to get home."

I looked through the wall and saw him reaching for the remote. A second later, the sound on the TV lowered to almost nothing.

"Hi, Daddy," Heather said in a small voice. She stood just inside the living room on the other side of the arch, with her head down and her arms crossed under her breasts.

"Come on over and give your father a kiss," he said, a little bit of teasing in his voice. "Then we'll play. Tonight you're going to be my cheerleader." He grinned. "Shake your pom-poms at me, then take one for the home team. You know you want to."

Heather shook her head. "No, Daddy."

He froze, just for an instant. "What did you say to me?"

Heather's voice barely quivered. "I said no, Daddy. I don't want to. I never wanted to. You forced me."

 Although he never changed expression, I watched a surge of anger burst out of his aura like a flash fire before he pulled it back with an effort. Then he ducked his head and came up smiling.

"Of course I did, angel," he said, almost kindly. "Little bitty girl like you. A package like mine is a scary proposition, especially for your first time and all."

"Oh, no. You forced me." Her voice was flat. "Every time."

He shook his head. "Oh, no. You wanted me."

"I never did!" She exploded. "Not even once!"

He looked down into his glass, and his voice was cool. "You only said no once, as I recall."

"And after I said no, you ... you beat me bloody."

He nodded, and his voice took on an edge. "That's right, I did. Do you know why?"

Startled, she shook her head reflexively.

"Because you needed to understand whose house this is," he replied, some of his anger rising up to the surface. His voice grew a little louder. "You said no ... to me. So I made you see that 'no' was not an option. Not in my house." The anger ebbed slightly, and he took a long pull at his drink. " You needed to see who was stronger. After that, I never had to beat you again. Because you knew I was strong, and you wanted me because I was strong."

"I didn't! I wanted not to be hurt!" Heather's voice shook as she shouted. "I wanted not to be afraid in my own house! I just wanted you to leave me alone."

"Me? Leave a pretty thing like you alone?" He grinned and downed the rest of his drink in one swallow. "No, darlin'. Not going to happen. Not in my house. Best get used to it, cause it isn't going to change. You're mine until you move out. Now you come in here and give me a kiss, and whatever else I want. Or I will make you remember what I already taught you once."

Heather looked at him coldly. "No," she said in a small voice.

 I watched the rage grow in him, and knew she'd crossed a line.

"Oh, baby." His tone was flat, and his voice shook as he spoke. "You are in so much trouble now, you're going to have to work really hard to make it up to me. You come in here and kiss me right now, and even though I know you don't like it, you get on your knees and take me in your mouth and make me feel real special. Or I'm going to hurt you so badly, you'll look like a puzzle with pieces missing when I'm through."

She trembled all over, and then her anger overcome her fear. "Then people will know, won't they?" She screamed, using her whole body to throw the words at him. "If you scar me, or beat me until I die, then everyone will finally know what you did to me, for months and months. Then who'll do business with you, Mister 'Incest is best?' Why would anyone buy anything from a bastard who rapes his own daughter every day for kicks?"

Without any warning, he threw the glass straight at her face.

Without thinking, I leaped forward and knocked her out of the way with my body. The glass flew by her head and hit the wall behind us, shattering hard and showering us with fragments. Neither of us really noticed. We were both focused on her father.

He froze, surprised at my appearance between him and his daughter. There was a long awkward silence. Then his anger seemed to pull back, and he smiled, very slowly.

"Well, well, lookee here. You brought a friend ... as a witness?" Heather nodded slowly, and he laughed. "As if anyone is going to believe the two of you over me."

 I gave him a look of pure contempt. "Do you think any judge would believe you over us in a case like this? You're stupider than you look."

"Depends on the judge, darlin'," he said with a grin. "I've got a few of 'em in my pocket, along with a couple of prosecutors and a mighty fine stable of lawyers to steer the case their way ... if it ever gets to that. Which it won't."

"I don't see how you can stop it."

"That's 'cause you're not lookin' hard enough." The accent had become slightly more pronounced, almost as if it was too much trouble to keep it from coming out anymore. "You think I didn't see this coming? You think I didn't know she was starting to fray a little around the edges? Girl, every day I sit across the table from men who lie like a rug, steal from babies, drink battery acid for coffee, and eat bitty things like you for lunch with a side of slaw. Got to be able to read people in my business, or you don't get to stay on top. And I like being on top, don't I, baby?"

Heather shivered and stayed quiet.

"Keeping my ass out of jail will be easy," he went on, picking up his bottle and drinking from it. "It's all about making people see what you want them to see."

"Well, you're pretty good at that." I stared right into his eyes. "Otherwise the people you work with must be pretty blind not to see the rapist in the corner office.

He flinched, and I laughed. "Ashamed?'"

"Hell, no," he said, too quickly. "I'm not. Birds of a feather and all. They're just like me."

"Oooo, that's a scary thought," I said with attitude. "A whole office full of creeps like you."

He ignored me and looked over at Heather. "Besides, she wanted me. Every time."

I shook my head. "No, 'Dad,' I think she made it pretty clear that she didn't.  Trust me, when you have to beat a girl bloody the first time she says no just to get her to say yes, it's probably rape." He snorted, and took a hit from the bottle. "But since you're not embarrassed or anything, tell me something."

"Anything for you, darlin'." He smiled.

"Why did you do it?"

He gave me a sideways look. "Why? Shit, girl, you don't understand us guys at all." I must have looked confused, because he shook his head and sighed. "Because she's hot, princess!" He looked right at me, and his lip curled into a sneer. "You're all hot! You know you are. Just look at yourself, girl -- in that short little skirt and the skimpy tee. All that red hair and those pouty lips, and those breasts bouncing around every time you move. You're a wet dream in motion, hon. 3-D porn on the hoof. And I'm a man. Why shouldn't I want you? Or her?"

I felt my anger rise. "Because we're both underage ... and she's your daughter, stupid." He scowled at me. "It's not rocket science. It's against the law. And it's not obvious at all. My ... dad would never have --"

"Don't be so sure 'bout that, darlin'. There's something about young meat --"

"We're not meat!" I snarled. "We're people! Even you ought to be able to see that."

He didn't like me talking down to him. I watched rage flare and sputter in his aura while his face and body did nothing. His shoulders twitched and straightened, and he put down the bottle. I could tell he'd come to a decision, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

Fortunately, I didn't have long to wait.

"You're a straight shooter, huh?" Heather's father gave me a measured look. I felt a shock of fear rip through me. He'd gone cold. Way too cold. "Are all the girls your age like you?" He waited a minute, then shrugged. "Heather isn't. She's just a rabbit."

"She stood up to you, didn't she?"

He snorted. "Just the once, then tonight. Other than that, she did whatever I said. She's not hard, or sharp, like you. She's soft. Although I bet you're just the same, under that skirt." He licked his lips and smiled, and it wasn't pretty.

"You'll never know," I said, anger pushing the fear away. "Come too close and I swear I'll cut it off."

It was his turn to sneer. "With what? Your fingernails? Or are you hiding a machete down between those cute little tits of yours?" He took another hit from his bottle, then put it down.

I smiled. "Not so little if I could hide a machete there, jackass. But don't worry. When it comes to cutting you down to size, I promise I'll be creative. There's bound to be something around here with a dull jagged edge. Thanks to you, we've got broken glass all over the place."

He snorted. "Big talk from such a little girl."

"As opposed to Mister 'I've got judges in my pocket,' right? We're talking incest here, not parking tickets. No judge is going to protect someone who did what you did -- over and over and over again." I paused for a second, just watching him. Something wasn't adding up. "What makes you think you're not going to pay? Once Heather talks to the police, you are so dead -- no matter how many big shots you think you've got on your side."

He bared his teeth at me then, in a cold alien grin that never touched his eyes. "Not if she's dead first," he said softly.

At first I wasn't sure I heard him right. Then I heard Heather gasp behind me.

"Run!" I shouted. "Go get help!"

She turned and started for the door, but those damned sandals tripped her before she took more than a step. Her father jumped towards her, completely ignoring me in his haste to stop her from running. Heather gave a squeak and started scrambling across the floor, but her skirt was so tight it made crawling difficult. Just as he reached me, I snapped a hard kick right into his stomach, and he folded at my feet. He grabbed my leg on his way down, but as I struggled to break free from his grip, I watched Heather get up and run out the door.

When he heard the door slam behind her, he growled. Then he let go of my leg, rolled out of range, and rose up on the balls of his feet, teeth bared.

There was a long silence. I could hear Heather's shoes clacking furiously on the pavement outside as she ran away. He considered me from a safe distance.

"That was a bad choice on your part, princess." He stood slightly crouched, hands apart. "Would have been better kicking me in the balls."

"Well, now we agree on something," I said, smiling through the rising terror. Oh, God, I thought wildly. I'm all alone with him. How did things go so wrong so fast? "I won't make that mistake again."

"No, you won't," he agreed, with a tight smile of his own. "Not in this life, anyway."

He lurched forward and I dodged backward, my feet landing in a ready stance.

"You can't win, baby." He backed up again, still smiling. "I'm bigger, stronger, and meaner than you are."

"Oh, I don't know," I said, keeping the trembling from my voice through sheer force of will. "Heather's not dead ... and she's gone for help. I'd call that a win already."

"Well, she'll find herself walking into a heap of trouble, if she comes back here," he replied calmly. "Help or no help."

"I don't see how."

"Well, that's because you're just a little girl, kitten." He threw a punch straight at my head, and I deflected it and countered with one to his stomach. Heather's father made a woofing sound and backed up. He began moving back and forth, spinning his hands, but I kept my eyes steady on his. When he decided to strike, that's where the decision would appear.

"Like I said before, I saw this comin'," he continued. "And I started makin' plans. I've been talking to folks at work for weeks about how strange my daughter's been behaving lately. Then I hid some cocaine and cash under her mattress, and buried some heavy girl-on-girl porn and sex toys in her closet. And I bought this cute little girlie gun in New York on a business trip, and put it in that drawer over there." He tossed his head in the direction of the table by his chair. "See, the idea was, I'd put it in her hand after I shot her with it, and claim self-defense."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, puhleeze!" The sheer girlishness of my response surprised me, and I stopped for a second before continuing. "Like anyone would buy that."

"You'd be surprised, sugar." He adopted an innocent tone. "'Officer, she'd been acting weird for a while now, staying out late, and running with a bad crowd. So I grounded her. The next thing I knew, she's threatening me ... with a gun! I tried to take it away from her, but -- my God, I killed my little girl!'" He grinned. "Something like that."

"What's wrong with you," I snapped, "Haven't you ever seen CSI? She doesn't do coke, so an autopsy will show nothing in her bloodstream. You lose."

"If there was an autopsy, which there won't be. I'll see to that." He started circling to my right, and I countered. "Besides, maybe she was just selling the stuff. Would explain the gun, if anybody bothered to ask. Which they won't."

"But she's not here anymore, is she?" I said sweetly, even though I was terrified. "Awww, poor Daddy. No more crazed killer. Just another victim."

"Well," he said philosophically, "since Heather's not here, I guess you'll be the one trying to kill me, and I'll get her for conspiracy to commit murder instead." He tried a kick of his own, and I slapped the leg away and kicked the back of his other knee so he folded.

When he hit the floor, he rolled to the other side of the room and rose slowly to his feet. That was fine with me. The further away he was from the door or me, the better. Between Mom and Heather, help was bound to arrive, and sooner rather than later. All I had to do was keep him from leaving ... and avoid getting killed in the meantime.

"Oh, that's too, too funny," I said, falling back into ready stance as my nerves sang with an adrenaline high from an unlikely mix of anger and fear. "Tell me ... what's my motive for trying to kill you again? I forgot in all the excitement. Not that you aren't worth killing and all, but I only just met you tonight. And I never kill on the first date."

He laughed. "You are such a hoot, girl, I swear. But you do have a point."

As he thought for a moment, his body moved slowly towards me, as if he thought I wouldn't notice. Then his eyes lit up. "I know! How about a lesbian death pact kind of thing?"

"A lesbian death pact?" I shook my head in disgust. "You watch way too much porn, 'Jethro.'"

"No, no, princess," he insisted, his smile growing again. "It's perfect! I already planted the girl-on-girl stuff in her closet. I'll tell 'em I found it, and when I confronted her with it she told me about you and your little love connection. I told her she could never see you again. Then you came after me with the gun, and I killed you taking it away. She took off, but all of the evidence will point towards another senseless teen murder spree. How'm I doin' so far?"

He lunged and I leaped backward, towards the archway between the living room and entryway. He regained his balance and looked at me from beneath furrowed brows. "Of course, it won't work unless you let me kill you, kitten."

"Won't work anyway," I said with a grin, preparing to burst his bubble. "You messed up, country boy. Heather didn't just tell me. She told my whole family earlier this evening, and my Mom called the cops. They'll be here any minute, and then you ... are ... SO ... toast."

He froze, just for a second. Then his face split in a grin so wide you'd think it was Christmas in October.

"Oh, now that was just stupid," he said in a happy voice. "You made your first and last mistake right there, girl." He tsked at me. "BAD girl, lying to me like that. You should be ashamed."

I was totally confused. "Excuse me?"

"Come on, princess," he said in an "oh so obvious" voice. "I'm a parent, too. And no matter what I do with her, I sure wouldn't send my girl into a house with someone like me. If she had told your Mom, you'd be locked safely in your room, and the cops would have been here first." He shook his head. "No, it won't wash. You came with Heather, you came alone, and you came without anybody knowin'." His voice turned cold, and I could see the resolve in his eyes. "And now you're gonna die here, without anybody realizin' you're gone."

He came at me so fast I could barely dodge, and I wound up with my back to the archway between the living room and the entryway. His momentum carried him to the other side of the arch, and I suddenly realized he was way too close for comfort. He reached for my throat with both hands, but I batted them up and back and went for a kick to the groin that almost reached the target before he twisted and caught it on the thigh. Still, it was full force, and he buckled slightly from the pain.

I took a step backward, away from the archway. I have to get out of here, before he kills me, I thought. But now he's between me and the door. Terrific. I fell into ready stance again. A lot harder being The Advocate when you're all alone and outgunned. I guess that's why they pay me the big bucks. I smiled in spite of myself.

He lurched forward and I brought my hands down on his head. My knee came up to hit him square in the nose. It spurted blood, and both of his hands came up to his face. As he turned away from me, I saw my chance and jumped towards the archway ... towards freedom.

Then he whipped around, completing his spin, and a bloody hand reached for my throat and snagged me up short. For a second he held me suspended inches above the floor, then he smiled at me through the blood that ran down over his lips and dripped off of his chin.

"Sorry, darlin'," he said, his words slurred through swollen lips, "but like I said before, I'm bigger, stronger, and meaner than you'll ever be." He gave me a critical eye. "Damn shame, though, You ARE hot." He shrugged. "Game over, bitch."

He slammed my head into the solid oak arch, and the last thing that went through my mind made me want to cry.

Sorry, Mom.

Then the world went white.

###

"Becca? Becca, baby? Please wake up."

I felt someone holding my hand, and when a few drops of something wet dropped onto my arm, I realized they were tears.

"M ... mom?" I whispered. I tried to open my eyes, and white-hot pain shot through my head. I closed them tight. Maybe light isn't such a good idea right now, I thought. "Ouch."

"Becca! Oh, thank God," She pressed my hand to her cheek, and I could feel her sobbing.  Suddenly I felt ashamed for what I put this woman through, endangering the daughter she loved. I was headstrong and stupid, and I didn't deserve someone as wonderful as her. Sadly, I realized I should have had more faith in her, and my own tears started to flow. "Oh, Mom. I'm ... so sorry!"

"Sssssh, baby," she said through her own tears. "It's all past now, and I have you back." I felt her take a breath, and her voice shook. "For a while, they thought ... they thought ..."

I felt this odd sensation under the pain, but I couldn't pin it down.

"Mom? Are we ... moving?"

"You're in an ambulance, honey. You need to be kept immobile, so you're tied down to a backboard with a cervical collar holding your head in place." We hit a bump and everything flashed red for an instant. I whimpered, and she squeezed my hand. "We got there just after ... when we saw the video, it showed him slamming your head into the wall pretty hard, and ... and ..." Her voice became muffled and I felt more tears fall onto my hand.

A male voice intruded. "We think you might have a concussion, miss, and possibly a skull fracture. We're headed to the hospital for X-rays and a CT."

Terrific. I tried to relax despite the pain. "So ... you saw ... the video?"

"Yes, baby," she whispered. "Everyone saw how brave you were. I wish you could have seen his face when Heather walked over and picked up the camera. Three people had to hold him back, and Jeremy threw himself between Heather and her father and begged them to let the man go so he could take his shot."

I smiled, and that hurt too.

"What about ... Heather?"

"She's ours, at least for now," Carolyn said, a little stronger this time. It was her professional 'I got the job done' voice, and it made me smile again, even if it did hurt. "I called in some favors, and Jeremy's going to put the upper bunk bed back in your room. I didn't think you'd mind sharing."

We were silent for a while. I could feel her head moving against my hand.

"Mom?"

"Yes, honey?"

"I've ... been thinking. Maybe ... you're ... right. Maybe ... I DO need ... to be more careful. Take ... up ... extreme ... bungie jumping ... or something."

I could hear and feel the half-laugh, half-sob that came out, and I felt a little better. She kissed my hand.

"I think you should stop thinking for a while, baby," she whispered, but I could hear the smile in her voice. "I bet it really hurts."

"It does," I smiled. "Maybe ... you should ... dye my hair ... blonde ... until I get better."

That time, she laughed out loud. I turned my head and tried to drift off.

Everything was going to be okay. I was home again.

"There's no such thing as cheap heroics. Most of the time, the hero has
to pay the price, and it's usually more than he can afford." -- C.H. Wagner

© 2005-2006 as a work in progress, all rights reserved. Posted with permission of the author.
 

Hey, everyone! Sorry this next chapter is so late, but it was hard to write, mainly because I hate putting my characters in danger. Also, the first perfect version of the chapter was accidentally lost, so i had to write most of the second half again. *sigh* Keep reading and commenting -- I'm seriously starved for feedback! *grins, hugs* -- Randalynn

Notes:

Readers, Please Remember to Leave a Comment

---

 
To Be Continued...