A/N: Okay, there is an ever-so-slight hint of NearxLinda in this chapter. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

Okay, I bet you all have been wondering so I'm just going to tell you. The three songs that have popped up at the beginning of every chapter are what I based the story off of. I was listening to them and just thought I'd right a story that related to them. Look them up! They are really good!!

Hooray! Last chapter!!

Part 11 Fine

"Die, withdraw, hide in cold sweat, quivering lips, ignore, remorse, naming a kid, living wasteland." –Wasteland by 10 Years

Thirteen-year-old Teresa Hughes stared disbelieving at the white-haired man sitting on a chair with one knee to his chest in front of her. She opened and closed her mouth before she could actually get something out. The story he had just told her seemed so far-fetched she had trouble believing it. Her mother an ex-Black Market arms dealer? Yeah right, how could she be when her best friend was an FBI agent? Then again, the story she had been told did explain how Veronica Hughes and Scott Russell met, so it could not be all fiction.

"Is this true?" she asked. The white-haired man, who only looked to be twenty-years-old, twirled a lock of his hair in his index finger and nodded.

"Yes, it is true." A blonde haired woman walked up behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders. "Your mother told me the whole story, and of course, some of it is true seeing as I witnessed part of it."

"Near's right, Teresa," the blonde woman said. Near touched her fingers and she smiled down at him. "Your father did call me that day asking where Near was."

Teresa huffed and crossed her arms angrily. "But Miss Linda, it all sounds so stupid!" The Wammy's caretaker frowned at the girl's remark but remained silent. "I don't even know if my parents even loved each other!"

The white-haired man sighed and lowered his finger from his hair. "I can tell you this much, Teresa." She looked up at him, her eyebrows knitted together in an annoyed frown. "Your mother may never have said anything about it out loud, but it was apparent that she loved your father dearly." Linda nodded at the statement, agreeing. The young girl raised an eyebrow, something she had gotten from her mother. She was stubborn, easily angered, and could be mean if she felt like it. In a way, she was a lot like her father, Mello. Her mother had pointed that out to her several times and eventually got to get on Teresa's nerves at times.

"One thing is for certain," The blonde lady stated. The thirteen-year-old stared at her as if she were expecting some deep, dark secret that Near and Veronica had not told her.

"You are the spitting image of your father." It was Near who finished Linda's sentence.

Teresa huffed and growled. "Humph, I figured as much, considering I look nothing like my mom did." She paused for a moment before talking again. "I don't even know what he looked like. Mom never had any pictures of him, and I doubt you guys do either." Near glanced at Linda and, knowing exactly what he meant, pulled out a sketch book and some drawing pencils. Teresa stared at her in confusion, but when the face of a man began to show up on the paper, she understood. Near guided the woman by giving her descriptions of what Mello had looked like as man, including the burn scar and his unkempt blonde hair. When the drawing was complete, Linda ripped the page out of her sketch book and handed the paper to the young teenager in front of her.

"This is your father," she said matter-of-factly. "You have the same disheveled blonde hair, blue eyes, and angry demeanor. You look a lot like him." Teresa stared blankly at the paper in her hand, not knowing what to make of it.

"I heard from your mother when she was alive that you also inherited your father's genius." Near's face was expressionless when he spoke, but at the same time, looked like he was impressed.

Teresa rolled her eyes and set the drawing of her dad in her lap. "So I solve College level Calculus with ease, so what?" she asked sardonically. "I really don't care."

"If you wish, I could arrange it so you can stay here at this orphanage until you're fifteen," Linda suggested. The young teenager stared up at the woman, frowning.

"Why until I'm fifteen?" she asked skeptically.

"Children who grow up here at the Wammy's House are ready to leave at age fifteen," Near stated. "However, your father left when he was only fourteen."

Teresa crossed her arms and looked out the window at the other children playing happily in the yard. "Thanks for the offer, but I already got a legal guardian taking care of me."

"Yes, FBI agent Scott Russell, I am aware of that." Teresa's eyes widened and she snapped her head back to look at the white-haired man and the orphanage caretaker.

"How the hell did you know?" she asked, completely baffled.

"How I know is of no concern, but if you stay here, you will be able to learn among other children who share your same level of intelligence." Near watched her, studying her expressions; she was a lot like her father in the way that she would let her emotions show in every inch of her face. She ran on feeling, not on logic.

Teresa was at a loss as to what she should do. What would Scott think if she chose to stay at the Wammy's House, what would her dead mother think? She really did not know but after a while, she finally decided on a plan of action. "I think I should talk it over with Scott first," she suggested.

"No need, I have already spoken with him." Near grabbed a small action figure of Optimus Prime off the floor and began playing with it. Linda and Teresa stared at him oddly before he spoke again. "He has agreed to let you stay here for the next two years and will be waiting to take you back when you are finished." Teresa gapped at the man. Did he just say what she thought he said? So it was okay for her to stay there after all. That little bit of information was enough to make her make a decision.

She nodded and gave her answer. "Very well, but I still want to talk to Scott to give him the head's up." Linda and Near both nodded and gestured to the phone that sat on the blonde's desk. Getting out of her chair, Teresa walked across the room and dialed the lengthy phone number that would take her back to San Diego, California. She waited for the man to pick up, and after several rings, a groggy voice answered the phone.

"Nyuh? 'Ello?"

"I'm sorry, Scott, did I wake you?" She could tell the man had just crawled out of bed to answer the phone.

"Oh, no Teresa," he said, suddenly sounding awake. He must have just realized who had called him. "Did ya find the guy ya were lookin' for?" The teen rolled her eyes. Of course he knew that she found him.

"Yeah, I did." She was not in the mood for mind games at the moment. "Listen, I've made my decision, I'm going to transfer to Wammy's." She heard a sigh on the other line.

"I thought ya would. I've already mailed all yar belongings over there." Of course, why would he not? If he knew Teresa Hughes, the opportunity to learn somewhere other than a college that fit her intelligence level was just too good to pass up.

"Okay, thank you, Scott. See you in two years." She hung up the phone and turned to Near and Linda. "He's already sent my stuff here," she growled. They both nodded and Linda took her out of her office to show her to her knew room.

--

Teresa wandered the halls of the orphanage looking for something to distract her bored mind. All the other kids were outside playing, but she wanted to first get to know the inside of the building before she went outside and had fun. As she passed the infirmary, or nurse's office, she remembered the day when her mother died. She had been only ten-years-old at the time and was not ready to lose her mom. Scott had been outside in the hall talking with the doctor while she stood by her mother's bed as she lay dying.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Russell," the doctor said drearily. "She's not going to make it. We tried out best."

Scott Russell turned away from staring through the window of his friend's hospital room. Veronica had had a heart attack during dinner and he had been the first and only person the hospital had contacted. "How much longer does she have?" he asked in his all-too-familiar Alabama accent.

The doctor looked at his clip board and shook his head. "A few minutes at most," he replied. "Her heart was incredibly weak so it was only a matter of time before she contracted heart disease. She must have had it for years and never told anyone. The only thing I can think of that kept her alive for this long was her daughter." Scott turned and looked back into the room where Veronica was laying on her death bed. "Do you know where we can contact Teresa's father?"

The southerner shook his head. "No, I'm sorry," he began. "He…" Scott paused. "He died before she was born."

The doctor nodded and left after saying, "I see; I'll leave you alone then."

Inside the hospital room, a ten-year-old Teresa Hughes stood by her mother's bed, holding the blankets in a death grip and crying. "Mommy, you're not going to leave are you?" The red-head laid a weak and trembling hand on the top of her daughter's head.

"I'm sorry, Teresa," she rasped. "You'll have…have to live with…with Scott from now on." Her voice shook just like her limbs.

"Mommy, no!" Little Teresa tugged on her mother's blankets.

"Listen, Teresa," Veronica let go of her daughter and grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil. "I want you…you to know about your father." She slowly began to scribble something down on the paper. The little girl stared wide-eyed at the paper while her mother wrote. "His name was Mihael Keehl, but we all just called him Mello." She handed the paper to the little blonde next to her. "Go to Winchester, England. There…there is an orphanage called the Wammy's House there. When you get there, ask…ask for a man named...a man named Near. He'll be able to tell you every…everything." Teresa read what was on the paper; an address and a few names. That was it.

"Why don't you tell me now, mom?" she asked, a small bit of hope told her that her mother was not going to die. Unfortunately, just when Teresa made her suggestion, the heart monitor next to the hospital bed flat lined and a single solid beep sounded from the box. Veronica dropped her arm from her daughter's head and her head slumped to the side, her eyes closed. Teresa cried for her mother to come back it was not use. At 9:17 pm on January twenty-third in San Diego, California, Veronica Hughes died of heart failure.

Teresa had finished checking out the dining hall for the children and decided to finally head outside. Inside was boring. Her mind wandered again, this time to when she had finally gathered up the courage to find out who her father really was.

"Scott, I'm going to England!" a just-turned-thirteen-year-old Teresa called out through the southern California urban home. She stood up off the couch and marched up the stairs to find her legal guardian. She saw him walk out of his bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair sopping wet. He had apparently just gotten out of the shower.

"What on earth for?" he asked.

"My mom said that a man named Near lives in Winchester and he could tell me about my father." She watched as Scott Russell put his boxers on under his towel and dried his short brown hair.

"Well, I could just tell you that," he said as he pulled on a pair of pants and a T-shirt.

She shook her head. "No, I think mom wanted me to have Near tell me." He looked at her skeptically. "I inherited a pretty good amount of money from mom so I'm going whether you want me to or not!" He chuckled a bit and she raised an eyebrow at him. She certainly was turning into a defiant teenager.

"You're just like you father," he said. "Stubborn as hell."

After that, the conversation changed and when Teresa mentioned that when she turned fourteen, she wanted to go to the DMV and sign up to take the Motorcycle class to get her license, Scott tensed up. She had taken an interest in motorcycles and Scott's face contorted with distain when he heard her say that. He hated motorcycles, but it was Mello's daughter, what was he supposed to do? Finally, after a brief argument, he had agreed to let her take the test.

Teresa stepped out the back door of Wammy's and into the bright sunlight. A bunch of children around her age or younger were running around in the yard, playing soccer, tag, or other such fun games. Seeing the group of boys who were playing soccer, she ran over to them and tapped one on the shoulder. A boy around the age of thirteen or fourteen with red hair and green eyes turned around and stared at her.

"What?" he asked.

"She smiled a sweet smile, one that was rarely seen on her. "Can I play to?"

He was silent for a few seconds, contemplating whether he should let her play or not. "Sure, why not?" She thanked him and tied her hair back in a pony tail. She felt like the boy was watching her so she turned to face him; he was. She gave him a look that said, "What do you want?" and turned back to watching two boys stand in front of the group and pick team members. "You don't look familiar," he began. "Are you new here?"

She nodded. "Yep, just arrived." A name was called and a boy to her left with short black hair walked forward and took his place with his team.

"What's your name?" the red-headed boy next to her asked.

She looked at him. "Teresa…" She paused. She suddenly had the urge to introduce herself not as a Hughes, but as a Keehl. She was her father's daughter after all. "Keehl," she finished. "I'm Teresa Keehl."

The boy looked at her funny and then said, "You know, the kids at this orphanage always go by aliases. You should find one for yourself." That said, he turned back to face the other boys and wait for his name to get called. Teresa stared at him. Aliases? Now that she thought about it, her father had an alias and he came from this orphanage. If he had one then it was alright for her to have one. She thought about it for a bit, trying to find the perfect name and after a while, she remembered a name she had read in a book called "Demon Drums". It had been her favorite name from that point on and she always harbored a secret desire to be referred to by that name. Making up her mind she told the boy her knew name.

"Tarawe," she said. He stared her, confused. "My name is now Tarawe. What's yours?"

"Ronin!" one of the boys picking teams called out. The red-headed boy smiled and turned to Tarawe.

"That is my name." He walked to his new team and the young blonde stood and waited for her to get called. Of course, she was the last one to be picked because no one knew her and she just happened to be on the same team as Ronin.

"It's nice to meet you, Ronin," she said.

He smirked. "Nice to meet you, too, Tarawe." The kids then ran off and took their positions on the field. The thirteen-year-old smiled to herself as she took the right wing of the field. She has just made her first friend at her new home.

"And if God created love, did he make it for everyone?" –When Heaven's Not Far Away by Cold

A/N: Yes! It's finally finished!! This thing was a pain in the ASS to stick with! I think I'll be writing a few oneshots for a while now. These long stories pretty much consume my life when I'm working on them.

For those who guessed correctly (But, I noticed, did not review) you all get virtual COOKIES!! YUMMMMMM... For those of you guessed wrong, ha ha...too bad for you!! Hey, Spinningvortex!! You were half right when you said there would be a mini-Mello. Tarawe is kind of like a mini-Mello. Her personality is pretty much the same as his, she has blonde hair and blue eyes, likes motorcycles and she looks angry all the time! The only thing that is different is the fact that she is a health nut like her mother was. Sorry that wasn't mentioned in the chapter. --'

OH MY GOD!! I actually wrote a tragedy!! I can't believe it!!

Reviews are much appreciated!! Review and you won't get murdered and have your body dumped in the Rio Grande!! If you're not found by the Texans, then you will get washed out into the Gulf of Mexico and probably found by Mexicans!!