A.N.: It's... alive!! Well, sorta, anyways. The working world hates my guts, and I'm way too burned out to write half the time. But this little ditty comes from reading some of the random dabbles that have been appearing lately. Thanks to those authors! Now, on with a dabble that might keep you people from coming after me for not updating Time Stops!

Disclaimer: I've checked. They don't want to sell out to me. Bah.

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Dependant

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He sometimes hated depending on the others.

Not that he didn't trust them, or know that they would all give their lives for him, if necessary, but he just couldn't let himself depend on them, unless he had no other choice. Of course, there was some reasoning behind these thoughts.

He already depended on something else, and he hated the fear buried deep inside himself that one day that something would fail him, and he would be sent, kicking and screaming, into the darkness of defeat.

His stupid leg brace. So much a part of him, he was freakin' identified by it.

"Oh that poor boy. He'll never be able to walk like the rest of us!"

"He's a cripple! He'll just fall behind!"

"Look at that limp! We can't win with him!"

Until he had joined the other descendants, this was how his life went. People would look at him, at his leg, and decide he wasn't good for anything. He sometimes lay awake at night, thanking the stars that he had always forced himself to never give into the misconceptions people had of him.

Now he was the Warrior of the team, the one who was identified by something very different from his disadvantage. His power, his speed, his accuracy, his strength, all which were a part of what made him someone to be respected, not just ignored for his fault.

But there was always a shadow of doubt he carried with him, buried deep under arrogance and pride. Despite his best efforts, and the practice he put himself through almost daily, he still could not even stand without his brace supporting his leg. At times, he hated himself for his weakness.

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TBC... (maybe)