Title: Wake Me When It's Over

Disclaimer: I don't own Four Brothers, and am in no way affiliated with the film. None of the characters within, excluding Kitty Davis/Mercer, belong to me.

Notes: Sorry about the wait! I just moved and it took me forever to get my internet service back up. So here's a super long chapter! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate the kind words. This is dedicated to the guys over at the Four Brothers community I'm a part of over at livejournal. This chapter is mainly flashbacks, I'm sorry to say. I got a bit carried away.

Italics flashback

Normal present

Weird

I sit on the edge of Bobby's bed, feeling my skin crawl as if being here has actually given me hives. The air smells a bit of cigarette smoke, Jack's doing, and I bite my lip as the craving to have one returns. I glance over at the alarm clock and sigh when I see the time. Quarter to three in the morning. I draw my legs up to my chest and lean my head back against the wall behind me. Staring at the ceiling, I let my mind drift once more, wanting to remember Mama as best as I can. Despite how I act, I don't hate it here. I love this old house as if it were a real person. I began to live here, and learned so much under this roof that there is no way I could hate it. It's just… not right. Not without Mama. I sigh heavily and close my eyes, remembering the day I first stepped foot in the house.

Miss Evelyn doesn't contact us for some time after her visit. I spend my days wandering around the McKinnon's property like a shadow. I have been with this family for about six weeks now, and though I have worked up enough courage to make an attempt at being normal, there is still so much that is uncertain. They are uncomfortable around me still, not that I really blame them, and it is obvious that they are impatient to move on with their own lives. There is a heavy ache in my chest that doesn't seem to want to go away, and I have begun to believe that it never will. It has rained for the last few days, and the wet grass feels strange and cold on my bare feet. It has been a very wet August, at least it is according the newspapers, and Mrs. McKinnon's rose bushes have been ruined because of it.

I can hear the sounds of children playing from where I am in the backyard, and part of me wishes I could join them. The psychiatrist came to the house a few days ago. He stared at me over the rims of his glasses, his rheumy eyes boring into me. The tone of his voice grated on my nerves terribly as he told the McKinnons that I would most likely have troubles socializing with other children for quite some time. I was a shadow during that meeting, and I kept myself occupied with the cookies Mrs. McKinnon had presented us with. They were stale and very dry.

"The question of schooling has come up several times," Mrs. McKinnon said fretfully, sipping furiously at her tea, "and I'm sure you understand our reluctance to push ahead with the arrangements. I mean…." She glanced at me and then softly said, "We hadn't really planned on… all this." I wanted to cram my cookie down her throat then, and I later was rather proud of myself for the emotion I felt behind my thoughts. It was the first time in weeks that I had felt anything other than sadness and exhaustion. Even though it was anger, I was happy to feel something. She turned her eyes back to the doctor and sniffed, "I mean, it's rather inconvenient to have to worry about these tests. She seems able enough, I suppose. I'm sure she'd be fine in the proper grade." Mr. McKinnon nodded his head in agreement. The doctor, sitting back in a gesture that simply screamed self-importance, said, "You must understand that she hasn't had proper schooling for quite some time. It was her mother who taught her up until the incident and we haven't any clues as to how she handled it. Kitty could be right at the learning age she should be, or she could be hopelessly behind. The only way to know is the tests."

I shudder when I think of the comments he made, speaking over my head as if I weren't even there. I had worried that night, sleeping even less than usual as I contemplated why they were so concerned about my intelligence. I tried my best to display my skills, but they largely went unnoticed and I realized that I mustn't be as smart as I thought. Now, I have myself scared to death that I might be disabled in some way. Retarded My stomach ties up in knots as I think of the word and suddenly my feet are simply itching with the need to run away. Things are so bleak right now that I almost can't believe it. A little less than a month ago, I was staring out a window and imagining all the things I could do, if I were free. Now I can't believe my own stupidity. Things are much harder than I had expected them to be.

A breeze breaks into my thoughts, cool and refreshing on my skin, and I take a moment to simply appreciate what I have in this instant. I have long since become used to the sounds of the birds and the feel of the wind in my hair. I have become used to the sensation of having more than enough food in my stomach and warmth in my bones. I comfort myself with these little things for now, and tell myself that there will be more to come. I understand that I am, from certain stand-points, very much behind the normal child of my age. I haven't had the same experiences as other girls, thanks to my Mother. And now that I know it, a feeling of panic washes over me. If I'm so far behind, it will be hard to catch up.

I am so involved with my thoughts that I almost don't notice the appearance of someone behind me. I tilt my head backwards to see who it is, giving myself an incredibly disturbing view straight up Mrs. McKinnon's nostrils. I try my best not to start laughing as she demands, "What on earth are you doing out here?" I tilt my head as best as I can from this angle and questioningly say, "Just sitting." She sighs heavily as if I'm the most troublesome person she's ever had to deal with and presses, "We've just gotten a call from Ms. Mercer. She has requested that we join her for dinner at her house. I suppose those… boys of hers will be there. In any case, you'd better go upstairs and get changed. And do something with your hair, please?" I find myself frozen to the spot, and my mind begins to whirl, screaming at me rapidly. I've never gone to anyone's house for dinner before. I have no idea how to act, especially around Miss Evelyn's boys. My face heats up at the very thought of it.

I reluctantly get up and fairly slink towards the house in my hesitancy. Telling her that I'd like to meet them and actually doing it are two very different things. I like Miss Evelyn, and the thought of embarrassing her and myself in front of her boys makes me feel sick to my stomach. As I get dressed and attempt to tame my curls into a braid, my fingers shake so much that I have to pause a few times to calm myself. I overhear Mrs. McKinnon whispering loudly in the hallway about how she hopes Miss Evelyn has found a proper home for me. She's excited about the idea, and I find myself becoming angry at her lack of sensitivity. Not for the first time, I have to fight to keep the bitterness from rising up within me.

As I walk past them in the hallway, I spare her a vicious glare, one that makes her stop in her tracks. I am pleased by her reaction, as I have never shown my displeasure or anger towards her before. She has always described me as cold, and I agreed with her silently. But ever since Miss Evelyn came, I have tried my best to begin to take stock of what is happening around me and let it actually touch me. I walk down the stairs with my head held high and walk out to the car, waiting patiently by the back until they let me in. The car ride is absolutely silent, except for Mr. McKinnon's constant requests for directions. As usual, the man is utterly oblivious to the tension around him and his presence is more like an afterthought than anything else. I pity him in a way, knowing without a doubt that he is a secondary character in his own life.

I stare out the window after awhile, tracing patterns on the cool glass as the McKinnons bicker over the directions. Taking deep breaths to calm myself, I watch as the scenery seems to simply fly by. I picture Miss Evelyn and wonder if she'll notice that I've made any progress since I saw her last. Will she even care? I remember a conversation I overheard one night from my temporary caregivers that a lot of social workers have so many children under their watch that they simply forget about some. They had wondered if maybe Miss Evelyn had forgotten about me. I feel an unaccountable amount of pride at the fact that she hasn't forgotten about me. I suppose it's because it's happened so often.

We eventually turn onto a rather run-down street, pulling to a stop in front of a smallish house. There isn't anything very remarkable about it; in fact, it's so unremarkable that it's hard to describe. There is a porch, nothing very elaborate, and the driveway leads towards the back. At first, I have to wonder how five people can manage to live here without it being too crowded. We get out of the car, and I can almost feel Mrs. McKinnon's smugness over the fact that her house is better than Miss Evelyn's. It's one of the things that the McKinnons care about more than most things. I roll my eyes before I can stop myself and then follow them to the porch. I smile brightly when I see Miss Evelyn standing there, already waiting for us. She and the McKinnons shake hands and murmur their greetings, but when she greets me I receive a hug.

I practically glow as she invites me into her house, though it doesn't stop me from checking the door once or twice before walking all the way inside. Mrs. McKinnon instantly attempts to stop me, launching into her old spiel, looking embarrassed. It's Miss Evelyn who stops her and quietly says to me, "You can leave any time you like, Kitty. It's alright." I don't respond to her, not right away. Instead I am listening carefully for the click of the door shutting. I relax slightly when there isn't a double click, indicating that the door locks automatically. Satisfied, I look up and smile a bit, re-joining the others.

We all take a seat in the living room, and I listen as the adults exchange pleasantries for awhile before the conversation finally turns in the exact direction I was dreading. I lower my eyes as the topic of my schooling comes up. I'm ashamed of it, of the fact that I don't know many of the things I should. I am terrified that Miss Evelyn will make fun of me because of it, or worse. I shiver a bit as Mrs. McKinnon presses the issue, asking her if she's made any progress in finding me another home so that they can handle the tests. I look towards the door longingly, wishing I could just go outside for a moment. Every time I find myself making this wish, however, I counter it with making a promise to stay where I am.

Slowly my body tenses up until I'm wound up extremely tightly, so much so that the muscles in my legs actually begin to ache a bit. Then, during one of the many times I am staring at the door, silently wishing I could leave it opens. It startles me so much that I jerk back, foolishly wondering if I've actually made it open simply by wishing. A moment later, a familiar face peers around the corner almost suspiciously, dark eyes narrowing to slits when they land on me and the McKinnons. I recognise him after a second, remembering the smile on Miss Evelyn's face when she told me about Angel. He is better looking than I thought, and I instantly feel my face begin to heat up when he turns his gaze on me. I lower my head, staring at my shaking hands with a sinking feeling in my stomach, thinking, 'Here we go.'

"Ma?" he says questioningly, and I almost smirk when I hear the McKinnons shift nervously in their seats. Their main problem with this business of meeting Miss Evelyn for dinner was the fact that her boys would be there. And, not that I could call them racist (the term is far too solid to be applied to them), they were most nervous about meeting Angel in particular. I feel badly for it already, and they haven't even opened their mouths yet. I can hear the smile in Miss Evelyn's voice already when she says, "These are the McKinnons, Angel. Mr. and Mrs. McKinnon, Kitty, I'd like you to meet my son Angel."

They begrudgingly shake hands while I have a tiny, quiet meltdown at the thought of touching him. All I can think is, 'Oh my God….' There is silence and I stare harder at my hands, my face feeling like it's on fire. I jump a little when I hear Miss Evelyn murmur, "Kitty." I glance over at her, feeling only mildly soothed when she gives me a small, sad smile. I glance over at Angel, who's standing in front of me looking utterly puzzled. I stand up abruptly and finally look him in the eyes. He's taller than me, and he smells nice, like cologne. I hold out my hand and quietly stammer, "I-I'm very pleased to meet you, sir." Inwardly I cringe, berating myself harshly for calling him 'sir', but the little voice starts to dissolve when I see the pleased grin on Angel's face. He shakes my hand and leans in to smoothly say, "Nice to meetcha."

I smile so wide that my face actually starts to ache after a moment, and when I sit down I feel as though I've climbed Mount Everest. Angel is very affable, not pressing me about what just happened and he even somehow manages to make the McKinnons relax a bit. It turns out he's a bit funny, interjecting a few jokes into the conversation, though I can tell he doesn't really want to be here. It isn't long before the house begins to smell good enough to make my mouth water, and it doesn't take actually tasting Miss Evelyn's food to know it's better than Mrs. McKinnon's. Of course, if I told her that she'd simply say I have bad taste.

Miss Evelyn glances at her watch, frowning a bit, and questions Angel, "Where are those wayward brothers of yours, huh?" He shrugs, but just then, as if on cue, the door slams open and the final three Mercers walk in the room, loud and rowdy. Bobby comes in first, tossing what looks to be hockey equipment onto the floor as he says to Jerry, who's right behind him, "You gotta keep your guard up, man. How many times I gotta save you, huh? Those guys nearly took your head off on that last move there." Jerry just makes a face at him, not willing to accept his adoptive brother's criticism just yet. The last one to enter is Jack, and I instantly want to smile at the look on his face. He's been cut, and there is blood leaking down the side of his face slowly. He looks exhausted and pale, and yet at the same time he has this enormously pleased look on his features.

Jerry turns to him, concern etched onto his own features. He tries to grab Jack's chin, exclaiming, "Damn, that's really bleeding Cracker Jack." Jack jerks away from his hand, his protest of, "Stop calling me that!" lost as Bobby commands, "Jack, go get that cleaned up, okay?" Jack rolls his eyes but does as Bobby says, dumping all his stuff on the floor. From the looks of things, I'd say they'd been playing street hockey. I saw a bunch of kids playing that in front of the McKinnon's house awhile back. I look down the second that Bobby finally seems to notice us. I glance over to the side as Miss Evelyn clears her throat, and suppress a smile when I see the look of exasperation on her face. I have to look at Bobby's reaction, and I am not disappointed. There is a look of clear confusion, and then dawning as he suddenly yelps, "Oh shit! That was today!"

"Bobby! Language!" is Miss Evelyn's immediate reply, and I am a bit surprised when Bobby instantly contritely responds, "Sorry Ma!" A second later he's racing up the stairs, Jeremiah on his heels, shouting down something about only being a minute. I bring my hand to my mouth and try my best to hide my laughter, having found the entire thing incredibly amusing. I glance up in time to catch Angel's eye and my face goes completely red once more when he winks at me, sending me a wide grin as he does. He then stands, announcing that he needs to talk with his brothers, and strides out of the room.

I look at Miss Evelyn to find an expression of love, exasperation and humour on her face as she shakes her head with a chuckle. It's all too easy to imagine her looking at me like that, and I realize just how dangerous these thoughts are. Just because she likes me, doesn't mean that she'd want to adopt me too. I fleetingly wonder how it came about that she adopted the rest, but I don't dare ask. I glance up at the ceiling when I hear a fight break out. Miss Evelyn groans and excuses herself to hurry up the stairs, leaving me alone with the McKinnons. They exchange looks with each other and I am not at all surprised to hear Mrs. McKinnon murmur, "They aren't very well behaved, are they?" She shakes her head as if dismissing them and then turns her attention on me, brightly saying, "I'm very surprised Kitty, you did very well with Angel." I nod shallowly, though I'm not sure how to respond to what she's said. I'm more worried about the test ahead, meeting the rest of the boys and having to sit at the dinner table. I console myself with the fact that I'll be surrounded by many people at least.

The introduction to the rest of the boys is generally smooth. Jeremiah is extremely polite and soft spoken when we shake hands and I feel the most comfortable with him. When I shake Bobby's hand, I have to fight the instinct to wince at the grip he has on my hand. He squints at me hard, and only grunts at my very soft, "Hello." His reaction immediately makes me a bit frightened of him. I am surprised when Jack shows just as much shyness and reluctance as I do when it comes to touching each other's hands. Our eyes meet for a split second and in that instant we come to a silent understanding. I see the fear in his eyes as if they were a mirror of my own. Instead of shaking hands, we simply nod at each other with a smile before retreating to our corners.

Dinner is almost as smooth, with a few exceptions. Bobby seems to have a problem with the McKinnons and I, staring at us as if he were trying to bore holes through our heads. I feel as though I'm doing something wrong every time he catches my eye from across the table, and so I try my best not to look his way. Mrs. McKinnon embarrasses me further by insisting on asking more questions about finding me a home, and the way she phrases her questions makes me sink further and further down into my seat. Miss Evelyn, to her credit, parries Mrs. McKinnon easily. She gives her answers that aren't really answers and generally takes a 'wait and see' attitude to everything. I almost admire the way she manages Mrs. McKinnon. The entire time, my eyes keep straying to the window.

The situation is weird in more ways than one. I don't feel right in my own skin, and with the vibes Bobby's putting off, I feel like I shouldn't be here. I pick at my food, playing with it more than eating it. My cheeks still feel like they're on fire, and I become hyper aware of how stupid I must look right now. These feelings of inadequacy simply continue to grow over the course of dinner until I just can't handle it anymore. I feel like I'm about to have a panic attack as I drop my fork with a clatter onto my plate. I bring my trembling hands to my face, bowing my head so nobody can see my expression. There is quiet for a second, broken by Miss Evelyn as she asks, "Kitty? Are you alright?" I nod shallowly and then, after breathlessly mumbling something about getting some air, I launch right out of my seat and run for the door. If it had been locked or hadn't opened for me right away, I guarantee I would have had a full blown panic attack. Luckily for me, I am able to get outside without any trouble, banging through the second door just as desperately.

The second I'm outside, I begin to shiver, feeling as though I've failed a big test. I collapse onto one of the steps on the porch and let out a shaky breath, trying my best to calm down. It's dusk now, and the sky is lit up with a rosy red colour, warm and sweet. I focus on that, using the techniques that the shrink gave me in order to relax. I'm so intensely focused on that I don't notice the person approaching me from behind until I feel a hand on my shoulder. I jump, twisting at the waist to see who it is. I relax again when I see that it is Miss Evelyn who has come for me, not really surprised.

"It'll get easier." She says to me softly, sitting down next to me on the step. I sigh heavily and whisper, "Will it?" I blink furiously and admit, "I'm scared, Miss Evelyn. I really am…. Where am I going to go after the McKinnons have had enough? What if nobody wants me? And what about the tests…?" I shiver convulsively and, breaking into tears, wail, "Why… why did my Mother do this to me? I don't understand what I did wrong." When Miss Evelyn wraps her arms around me, I instinctively want to pull away at first, but the feeling of being held is too good to make me move. I feel myself growing even more attached to her in this second, even as I tell myself she could never be the one to take me in. Telling myself it could never happen doesn't stop me from dreaming.

I stare out the window into the snow, biting my lip as tears slowly course their way down my cheeks. The memory plays through my mind over and over again, almost tormenting me with its bittersweet feeling. I remember that as the moment I came to care for 'Miss Evelyn' as a mother figure. After that point, I knew she would always be important to me, no matter what happened. I sigh, resting my head on my folded hands, sniffling softly. My head aches from crying and my heart feels as though it's breaking, just as it did then. I was so scared then that I am still surprised I survived that period of my life. I remember how it used to be, how hard it was to feel anything at all, let alone fear. And when I did feel, it was intense and completely overwhelming.

After the dinner, Miss Evelyn had me return to her home several times. The date for the test was set, and I fretted over it almost constantly. Jack warmed up to me eventually, but Bobby seemed to cling to his stubborn will, refusing to become friendly with me just then. Whenever I'd come to visit, he'd make up some excuse to either hole up in his room or go out without any warning. It hurt, but because I was so preoccupied with the tests I couldn't pay it much attention.

I remember the day I went into the school to take the tests. It was the same school Jack was attending, PS12, and the second I stepped inside, I felt incredibly foreign. I was shaking like a leaf, clinging to Miss Evelyn as if she were my lifeline. I was surrounded by kids my own age, but it was a terrible feeling. I could barely remember what it was like to be in school, let alone with children my age, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do to reach out to them. I was blind and deaf when it came to communicating with kids, a fact that my shrink seemed to enjoy pushing on me. Even now, I still occasionally have trouble.

They sat me down at a desk in an empty classroom and handed me a pencil and the test. I was told I had about three hours to complete it, and I had instantly started to panic. The test was a booklet, and the thickness of it made me wonder if they had originally been attempting to write a novel before changing it to a test. Dismay had washed over me as I had been given instructions, and part of me gave up right away. Now, as I stare at the top of the kitchen table, I can clearly remember how I had only seen gibberish for a good fifteen minutes before I finally made myself relax. I had tried my best, guessing where I had to, but by the end of it something inside of me turned black. When they took that test away from me I stared straight ahead, the gravity of what had just happened taking over for a minute. It was Mrs. McKinnon who came to pick me up, not Miss Evelyn. She had no words to comfort me, and so later that night when the shit hit the fan, it was partly her fault.

I pace around my room frantically, chewing on my nails until my fingers bleed, my nerves so frayed that I feel like I might fall apart at any second. Mrs. McKinnon has come in three times already to try and coax me out of my room, but I refused. I keep going over the test and wishing that I could have somehow known what questions they were going to ask. I have already cried, so overwhelmed that my entire body was wracked with silent tears, but it didn't help. I have never felt so close to cracking up before and it is an agonizing feeling. When Mrs. McKinnon knocks on my door for the fourth time in less than an hour, I feel my anger rear its ugly head.

"What?" I snap just as she opens the door. She gives me an affronted look and says, "Stop pacing around in here. We can hear you from downstairs." I frown at her and before I can help myself, I angrily retort, "Why is it that you only notice me when I'm annoying you? Is it some gift that you have, and if it is, you must tell me how it works. I'd like to be able to do the same to you." There is a voice inside of my head that is screaming in protest, questioning my sanity as I lay down a challenge at the older woman's feet. But the majority of me is entirely too pleased at the sight of her. She looks as though she's about to have a heart attack, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide enough to pop right out of her head and her body so taut that she might as well have been made of ice. She spluttered nonsense for a few seconds before yelping, "You little ingrate! We've taken care of you for weeks, and this is how you repay me… us?" I notice the slip and smirk, enraging her even more.

"Don't you give me that look!" she practically shrieks, "You had better be listening to me, Kitty. I'm not fooling around here." I snort and shout back, "You think I am? You think I'm having a great time here, living with zombies like you? God, they might as well have sent me to a funeral home, with all the excitement around here." She raises her voice now, and her tone is like nails on a chalkboard as she returns, "Ungrateful! That's what you are! If I had known what we would be getting into with you, I would have refused to take you in." I bark out a laugh and cross my arms over my chest, snapping, "That's right, remind me just how much of a sacrifice you've made. It must be so tough on you. A charity case like me should be grateful to you for reminding me just how far below you I am." I drop the sarcasm then to shout, "I am so sick and tired of your pity me act. I see how you parade me out to your dried up hag friends, I'm not stupid. You show them just how good you are to 'those less fortunate', then you turn around and act as though I'm just supposed to be exactly what you expect me to be."

She's so enraged by what I've said that she can't even think of anything to say. I think, as she sputters, "How dare you!" over and over again, that she knows deep down that I'm right. She only took me in as a way to show off her status, and when she realized that I might have problems it was as if I had gone from charity case of the day to the ticking time bomb nobody wanted anymore. She looks at me as though I'm about to turn into a criminal at any moment, especially now that I've become a bit more friendly with the Mercer boys. She expects me to be eternally grateful for having her treat me like dirt. The injustice and pain of it all wells up inside of me, and for the first time in weeks, I erupt. It's almost cathartic, screaming at her the way I am and I feel a piece of the tension inside of me dissolve as I finally tell her just what I think of her.

"You know what I think of you?" I scream at her, making her stumble back a bit as though I had physically pushed her, "I think you're a domineering, dried up bitch who wouldn't know compassion if it bit you in the ass. I think you care more about appearances than anything else in this world, and I think that makes you the most pathetic person I've ever met."

Complete and utter silence greets my words at first, the only sound in the room being my heavy breathing. I feel the rage inside of me calm in these moments and the voice that had questioned my sanity rears its ugly head once more, suddenly becoming the majority. My entire system is flooded with regret, though it's not towards what I've said. I've always felt this way, and saying it aloud hasn't changed my opinion. It's the fact that I told her point blank that scares me. Up until now, the thought that this woman has my life in her hands has made me keep quiet. She is my guardian, at least for now, and she can do a lot to me. I swallow thickly and open my mouth to say something, but whatever I am about to say is lost when she quietly, yet dangerously, hisses, "Pack your things."

"W-what?" I whisper, my eyes darting from her to the door and back again. She laughs cruelly and crows, "Not so strong now, are we? You heard me. Pack your things. If you don't like it here, that's fine. I have no problem showing you the door. In fact…." She walks out of the room before I can find out exactly what she has in mind. I curse my big mouth as I sink down onto the edge of my bed, completely stunned. I hear the sounds of a heated discussion downstairs and then her voice shrieks up the stairs, "I thought I told you to pack your things!" Almost mechanically I stand, doing what she says. Part of me wonders if she's really going to go through it and I cling to this little voice of doubt even as I pack up what few things I have left in the world.

It is with an eerie sense of déjà vu that I am carted out of the McKinnon home for the last time. It's just like the last time in my mind that I completely shut down in the car, staring blankly ahead. Mr. McKinnon is behind the wheel, at his wife's bidding as usual, driving in total silence. I clutch at my bags as hard as I can, hearing the faint sound of my own voice ringing in my mind. I remember how I pleaded with my mother, asking her what she was doing, what was going on. I shudder convulsively, my throat constricting violently. I fight the urge to ask where we're going and simply sit there, quietly panicking.

It isn't long before we pull up to Miss Evelyn's home. Instead of being happy to be there, this time I am mortified. I don't want her and her boys to know what happened tonight. I don't want her to know how disobedient I am. Mr. McKinnon turns in the front seat, staring at me with disappointed eyes. I feel one last spike of anger wash through me when he sighs, "You know, you really did bring this on yourself." I shake my head, throwing open the door and getting out. The second I shut the door Mr. McKinnon takes off, not even bothering to say goodbye. I don't blame him; it isn't as if he wanted me in his home in the first place. I sigh heavily as I look up at the now familiar home. Shame washes over me and I feel sick at the prospect of Miss Evelyn knowing what happened.

I walk towards the house and slink up the steps like a kicked dog. I stare at the door for a good ten minutes before completely chickening out. I find a corner of the porch to sit at and simply wait. I rationalize it by telling myself that they're probably busy, maybe even having dinner, and I shouldn't bother them. Night comes and with it the cool night air, and before long I'm shivering constantly, no matter what I do to make the cold go away. I am just about to resign myself to a night out in the cold when the door suddenly opens. I squint, temporarily blinded by the light, and have to shade my eyes with my hand in order to see who is standing there. My gaze falls on Jack, who is surprised to see me, to say the least. I give him a sheepish smile and am about to explain myself when he suddenly hollers, "Mom! Hey, Mom! Kitty's been kicked out of the house!"

I blanch, at first wondering how he knew what happened. My senses kick in after a second and I realize that he's put two and two together. To my surprise, he comes to my side and picks up one of my bags, taking it inside without asking me. I can only sit there, staring stupidly at his back, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. I hear the sounds of footsteps thundering down the stairs and then I am face to face with Bobby and Angel. Bobby crosses his arms over his chest and demands, "What the fuck makes you think you can stay here, huh?" I blink rapidly for a moment and then stammer, "I-I don't… I mean I'm… J-Jack just…."

"Come on, spit it out!" he snaps, making me jump. I swallow thickly and murmur, "Mr. McKinnon just… dumped me here, and I don't have anyplace else to go…." He snorts and unfolds his arms to point a finger at me hard, shouting, "This ain't no goddamned homeless shelter, Kitty. Don't you fucking think you can just waltz in here whenever you freakin' want and take over the damned place, got it?" He moves from the doorway and gets right into my face, hissing, "You don't belong here, Miss Priss. And if I have anything to say about it you won't be here tonight." He continues on, his voice getting more and more vicious. I want to look away from him but his eyes burn into mine, keeping me locked onto him. His words cut me deep and the more he says, the closer I am to breaking down. Finally, just as he's telling me that I'm no friend of his, I burst into tears.

The second I do, he falls silent. Angel on the other hand, chuckles and says, "You're in for it now, Bobby." Bobby's voice sounds panicked as he snarls, "Shut up!" I lower my face when he looks away, sobbing into my hands. I feel his hands on my arms after a moment and I can only barely hear him over my sobbing as he says, "Kitty… shit, stop it. Kitty, stop crying damnit!" It's less than comforting and the harshness of it makes me cry even harder. Even so, I find myself latching onto him, knocking him off of his feet. Sobs wrack my body even as I tearfully wail, "I'm sorry Bobby."

"What you apologizing for, Kitty? It's that knucklehead who should be apologizing. He opens that big ass trap of his before he thinks." Angel offers, his voice still calm and unnaturally smooth despite the racket I'm making. I continue to cling to Bobby though, somehow knowing that it's him I need now. My body shudders when his arms close around me and I begin to calm down almost immediately. His voice is now surprisingly soft as he says, "Stop crying Kitty. Shh… c'mere… Angel's right you know. I'm an asshole sometimes." It's classic Bobby, not fully taking credit for what he's done wrong, but somehow it's comforting. I let out a little laugh and he chuckles, "There you go." I pull back a little bit to ramble, "I'm sorry Bobby, I don't want to burden you or anything, it's just that I didn't have anywhere else to go an' I wasn't planning on staying forever, I just-"

"Whoa, Kitty, shut up for a second." Bobby says with a mock-overwhelmed look on his face. I obediently stop talking and nod when he says, "Alright, this is what we're going to do. We'll talk to Ma and figure out what happens next, okay? She'll sort things out." I nod again, relieved, and realize that for the first time since meeting him, Bobby is being nice to me. Upon realizing this, I beam at him, excited. He gives me an odd look in return, not getting why I'm so happy.

"Kit?"

I leap up from the kitchen table as if I'd been caught doing something wrong. The sound of Bobby's voice breaks into my thoughts and drags me back to the present. I wipe at the tears on my face and fidget as he approaches me, his face completely unreadable. His voice is rough when he questions, "What'r you doing up?" I shrug, tugging at the bottom of my oversized sweater and hoarsely whisper, "I couldn't sleep." I look up after a second and say, "You?" He just gives me a look, silently telling me he's suffering in the same way I am. I feel a lump form in my throat once more as our eyes connect and just as a few more tears sneak out from under my eyelashes he grabs me by the collar of my sweater and gently pulls me into his arms, wrapping his arms around me tight. I shiver a little as I return the embrace, sniffling, and then whisper, "I missed you."

"Yeah." He says gruffly, his breath on my bared shoulder. I bite my lip at his response, instantly wanting to interrogate him further. 'Yeah' what? Yeah I missed you too? Yeah, well I don't give a shit? It's been years since we saw each other, and with the way we left things I wouldn't be entirely surprised if he were still angry with me. I open my mouth to ask him what he means when he pulls back. The look on his face warns me not to try him right now; that now isn't the time to get into it. I move away from him, trying my best to hide my hurt when, just as gruffly as before, he says, "Get back to bed." My heart is slightly lifted when I hear the bit of warmth in his words.

It is with this knowledge that I finally fall asleep, because I am, at least for the moment, reassured that he hasn't cut me out of his heart totally.

End Part 2

Soundtrack for part two: "Weird" by Hanson (Yeah, I know Hanson sucks overall, but just go with me on this one, okay?)

So, what do you all think? Any guesses as to what happened to her in the past? Anyone?