Good day to you Sparks!
It’s funny how the ‘right’ music can get the creative juices flowing, but I suppose you know all about that huh Dave? For those who don’t, do check out
’s A Writer's Respite playlist. You’ll be surprised at the treasures you’ll find.Sum 41 has been on my mind a lot lately. I don’t know if any of you know the band or their music, it’s pretty old and was only really cool to the skater punks here where I’m from, but if you do you’ll understand. I have had Noots, No Reason, and Screaming Bloody Murder playing on repeat for the last few hours and I still can’t figure out exactly why these particular songs resonate so strongly with these next few scenes. I think it’s just a vibe, maybe the rebellion.
As for the story…
Okay, last time I set you guys up with a couple of boring interim conversations, here I hope you’ll find the promised fireworks. Enjoy!
INDEX | Chapter 6 | Scenes 1 & 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 & 6 | Scene 7-9 | Scene 10 | Scene 11 | Scene 12 | Scene 13 | Scene 14 | Next Scene →
Previously: Logan and Luke had just come off of a huge share session about the interrogation of Elle, and Logan was looking at Centaurus for wisdom while trying to work it all out in his head when Tom came to leave him with a kind of doomsday prediction that Luke would try again, driving Logan to go see Elle at last, where she let him know in no uncertain terms that she doesn’t want him using her old name.
Tom saunters into the library, fresh out of the shower by the looks of it. His short blonde hair is dripping, his chin is smooth as a baby’s bottom and the top two buttons of his navy golfer tee are undone.
The crackling fire and the dim hall lamp are now our only sources of light. It’s cozy, if a little warm. Luke and I have been here since sunset, deciding how much Tom needs to know about Elle if he stays intent on training her.
The call went out a little while ago, “We need to talk.” Luke says that at the time Tom was giving Elle a congratulatory hug for a perfect high bar routine rep and sending her off to swim laps until bedtime. He says it looks like Tom is very good with her. He knows when to push, when to encourage, and just how to motivate her to give a little extra. “I wouldn’t know about that,” I communicate, silently with a gimace. I’ve been avoiding them both, but from what little I’ve seen, Elle seems almost happy. I wonder if the fact that Tom looks like her old trainer has anything to do with it.
“Thomas. Welcome, have a seat. Something to drink?” Luke chimes at his most charming as Tom walks up the hall. I know they haven’t really talked much either, in the two weeks since Luke got back. I’m not sure which of us Tom is angrier with.
“Luke, Logan.” He looks at us each in turn as he walks through the open doorway. “You said, talk? What’s there to talk about?” He asks with an uncanny blitheness that doesn’t match the insinuation of the words, but below his serene exterior, there’s a roiling sea of anger, still. He has never fully accepted Luke’s telepathic communications. It’s no matter that it’s the most effective means of conveying a private message. His resentment seems to have only gotten worse over the years. Oh, brother will we ever find one another again?
“You should slow down with Elle.” I caution, jumping the gun. Me, it’s definitely me.
“Uh, not your business.” He scoffs and pushes past me to pour himself a drink then sits down.
I stare at the untouched glass Luke shoved into my hands when I got here, remembering the slightly tangy taste and smell of absinthe and wishing it were enough to make me forget about this whole thing.
Inwardly, I’m kicking myself. Luke said to let him do the talking, introduce the subject gradually, and work up to the sticky bits. Luke said to shut up and listen until I have something constructive to add. But all I can think about is how much he fits the archetype of her trainer. The one she killed.
“Elle isn’t ready for serious training,” I say softly, while Luke glares at me, then gets up to get ice for his tumbler of whisky. It’s almost autumn, warm even with the AC cranked up full blast, and yet the fire is blazing in the hearth. Luke has always liked to watch the flames, especially when he is as troubled as he has been lately.
“There are things you should know before you get stuck into anything.”
“You, Logan? You're seriously telling me to slow down when you're the one that's always racing ahead without thinking?” Tom shouts suddenly standing up to tower over me. Luke turns around quickly, staring at us with a quizzical look but doesn’t say a word. I can sense he finds this mildly amusing, like ‘Let’s see where this goes.’
“Without thinking?” I snap back, barely containing my temper, as irritated with Luke as I am with my brother’s silhouette, a black shadow against the light of the fire.
“You stopped thinking the day Dad went missing, and you’ve not thought out a single action since. I can cite so many examples, to list them would be a joke!” He laughs derisively. I bite my tongue, to contain an unfair retort but am unable to stop myself from building my own mental list, as I dart to my feet. The footrace on Telera, the spacewalk, the sedative that stopped Elle’s heart, Cathy, the interrogations with Luke…
“Yes Tom, me,” I match his tone and stance, but I’m still looking up and it burns me even more. “I'm telling you, to slow down. There are things you don’t know. Things that will affect how you handle her. Luke shared some stuff about Jenina’s past with me. There are things you should know.”
“Jenina? What?!” He shakes his head with one hand in front of his eyes as if he can’t stand to look at me. “I don’t care! I don’t give a damn about Elle’s past. None of it matters. She’s here, now. Her past is past. What matters is what comes after this mess you’ve put us in.”
“I don’t even know what you're trying to say." I grab at the hair on my temples and pull I’m so frustrated with him. We are centimeters from one another, both in offensive stance, both our energy levels bubbling beneath the surface. Luke sits calmly in his seat, sipping his whisky.
"Well, it isn't my fault you two couldn't leave well enough alone.” Tom gestures, but Luke barely acknowledges him, reaching for a small box in the center of the coffee table, as a trickle of sweat dribbles down my back. “You were the ones who went poking about where you didn't belong and look here, who was kind enough to attempt to pick up the pieces! Don't you dare, even try to tell me to slow down! Six weeks later and I'm still trying to clean up your mess!" Tom’s raised voice echoes in my ears. I feel the hairs on my neck rise as my brother’s tanned skin starts to glow with more than the firelight, and mine follows suit.
"Our mess? You seem to forget that neither Luke nor I asked you for a thing, you took it upon yourself! Don't blame me when your brilliant plans don't work out. And as for poking about, you know full well we had no other choice-"
"There's always a choice, Logan!” He all but screams in my face, shaking his hair back as it grows to match mine in length with the release of this much energy. “You know what it means for a Manorian to look into another's memories! What it meant to Dad. You know how I feel about it and you still went ahead, behind my back no less and I managed to forgive you the first time, then you went and did it again, don't expect me to be-"
"Thomas, Logan, that's enough!” Luke calls out, setting his glass down when he notices how close this argument is to getting out of control. “This isn't constructive.” Luke tries to push between us. We both take a step back. I catch a glimpse of the empty box on the table, with two long cylindrical indentations but I’m too distracted by Tom’s anger to think anything of it. I feel his emotions feeding my own, it’ll only take a second’s provocation to make us both turn this aggression on Luke.
Tom takes a deep breath, and says, "You should leave this between brothers, Luke," with a threatening edge in his voice and his eyes still on me.
I feel him trying to get himself under control, but I am hot for this fight. He has been at my throat for too long, making me feel guilty with his high and mighty, holier-than-thou airs.
Fighting to keep my energy level steady, I push Luke less than gently back into the sofa and out of my way. Then I let my power flow freely through to my clenched fist as I floor Tom with a sudden right hook. He sits up wiping the blood from his lip and I hiss one word: "Outside!"
Luke is still trying to get to his feet when Tom bursts, flaming, through the six-meter wide, force-fielded main window, into the night and I follow under a rain of glass shards with inky shadows shedding from my hair as I go.
The night is lit with golden flames as Tom and I go at each other. I lead with another right-hand punch to his jaw before we hit the ground, but I am all lit up myself now and the bulkiness of my energy-pumped muscles slows me slightly. Tom dodges and attempts to deliver a knee to my gut, when the shoulder-length flowing hair he isn’t used to obscures his vision. I am able to counter with a quick energy blast and a spinning kick as my feet touch the gravel path and then Tom hits the ground in a cloud of dust and debris from the no longer glowing little yellow lamps.
Half a second later he shoots up from below me with a powerful shot aimed at my face. Again I am slightly faster and he gets another punch in his. Tom pauses to look at me as fresh blood makes black lines down his brow and chin and his energy level spikes to a new height. His eyes are flooded with rage that burns out every trace of their usual soft brown and replaces it with midnight blue coals. His fist comes out of nowhere, my vision turns forcibly to the left, and then another flaming rock turns it back to the right. His left foot bites me in the gut and my body folds in half as it flies towards the outskirts of the Estates grounds.
He is so powerful! I think, counting stars. As long as his blows don't connect, I know I can beat him with my superior speed but his fists have stopping power that I can't compete against if they hit, and they have just hit me hard. It takes a full three seconds for me to get control of my body and reverse my trajectory.
Fighting against my own momentum I swing my arms around to fire an energy blast in the direction I had been going, and use the force of it to catapult myself back towards my brother. Adding a little extra power I pick up speed and just as he realizes he won't be able to dodge, I hit him full in the chest. My spear is wreathed in flame and at full power the result is inevitable. We both hit the ground just beside the fountain in a flurry of heat that melts the sand to glass.
Tom takes the brunt of the fall, and I recover quickly, ready to beat all of the Manorian religious junk out of him just as Luke steps out of the kitchen door calling our names. His reaching influence distracts me for a moment and before I know it Tom is almost completely powered down and I am more than halfway there myself.
It’s him. He’s inside our heads, controlling us, forcing us to stand still and lower our energy levels. Once mine is back to normal, I can feel it clearly, and sense Tom resenting the same. Not fair.
My anger turns towards Luke and his loathsome influence and I don’t see the two syringes in his hands until it’s too late. I can't move a muscle as Luke walks right up to Tom and sticks one in his neck, emptying it in the same motion, then does the same to me.
The already dim light of the crescent moon fades from yellow to grey and my legs walk me back towards the house without my permission.
* * *
We aren’t kids anymore. I stare up into the cloudless blue. The horizon is still tinged a ruddy rainbow where the sun rose moments ago. The morning caresses my bare chest and feet and teases my loose hair into tangles.
How long has it been since I’ve flown freely like this? I trace the purple bruise across my abdomen with my right hand and look down at the Manor’s black shingled roof.
We know the rules. We are mature enough to carry our own consequences. Why does Luke feel he has the right to overpower us like he did? My heart is heavy. I probe the cuts inside my mouth and think of Tom. If I close my eyes I can sense my brother’s sleeping energy. He would have won if our fight had continued. His power is undiminished even after all these years of pacifism. I’ve been trying for so long to surpass him, and now I realize that I probably never will.
I look back up into the azure dome and breathe deeply as clouds of fog start rolling in from the mountains and as the dawn’s sun catches them they start to shimmer in golden hues.
The sky is too beautiful to harbor this anger. Luke tried to reason with us. He was only doing what he thought was right. Tom and I shouldn’t have been fighting. Tom won’t accept it as easily but I know I can convince him if I am at peace. All too easily I let it go.
* * *
The cold June air burns my lungs as Tom and I walk up the stairs to the kitchen deck. We have just returned from a week's stay at Luke's mountain cabin and the mansion's warm conditioned air is stifling so we’ve spent the morning outside in the chill and the wind, unwilling to let go of the excitement of sparring in the mountains.
Luke asked us to meet him in the library after lunch and we are on our way there. It has been almost two months since his intervention when we ruined the garden, and between Tom and I, just like in the garden, there are no remaining traces of strife. It’s been almost five years since we were this comfortable around one another.
Tom took weeks to get over his anger with Luke, but with some effort, I was able to convince him that it was a waste of energy, and eventually, he let it go. He seems to have mellowed some towards the entire subject of Luke’s telepathy. He’s still a little stiff, but it’s no longer outrage and it makes things easier. Maybe coming clean was all it took.
Tom has kept his hair long since he and Luke had their talk about Elle’s training, most probably out of spite, though we haven’t discussed it. Of all our father’s principles, the hair was the one thing he refused to accept. He would always complain about the hazard of it getting in the way during a fight, even though it grows out again in moments every time he releases enough energy, just like it did during ours. It looks weird, but I must admit that the length fits more naturally on his Manorian frame. He let one of his students at the club braid it in rows for him before we left. The ends are clipped closed with tight metal rings in a row between his shoulder blades.
The library doors are open when we get there and a bright fire is burning in the hearth as usual. Luke greets us with drinks and a sorrowful smile and my heart drops as I sense something is wrong. He doesn't have to say much.
"There’s no gentle way to convey this.” He says blankly. “They want more and they won't take no for an answer."
Tom walks straight out shaking his head and muttering curses under his breath and I just stand in resignation as Luke hands me a syringe of familiar milky white liquid and says, “Please, bring Elle to The Room.”
Next Time: Tom and Logan go to get Elle for Luke to make his second interrogation attempt, hoping that she will go willingly, but things don’t exactly go as planned.
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These clip hangers are turning my hair white... Oh wait, my hair is already White :) good stuff!
Amazing fight scene. Luke should have let them wear themselves out. It's the only way they'll learn how to control their emotions. I know that luke is coming at this from a Father's point, but if my kids were fighting, I'd let them fight, only stepping in once one had won. Knowing my kids, it would be my daughter who won.