"Your left side is exposed when you step in for a side kick," Marty Lee said, watching Dade practice his fighting stances on the mat.

"I should be able to do this," Dade said, cursing in frustration.

Dade threw his gi off and paced back and forth, his bare feet padding along the mats. He and Marty Lee had been training for the last week, preparing Dade for his stint at the nationals.

"Your head isn't in the game," Marty Lee said bluntly. "To be quite honest with you, Dade, your head hasn't been in the game since you won the Regionals. I guess it's obvious where your passion to win comes from, aye?"

"Can it, Miller," Dade growled, resuming his fighting stance.

"You can't fight unless you have a brother to beat, can you?"

"Shut it!" Dade screamed at Marty Lee. "Stop fucking with me!"

"Angry, are you?" Marty Lee taunted. "Want to prove me wrong, do you? Then go to those nationals and show me you deserve to be there. Show me you're not just some fluke winner."

"Maybe I just have different priorities," Dade said, running his hands through his hair. "Maybe I don't care as much about winning anymore. What did winning ever get me?! All I care about is the baby Claire's carrying right now. That's what I care about. That's my priority."

"Fuck your priorities," Marty Lee said, stepping up to Dade. "It's too late for priorities. You started this, now finish it!"

It didn't matter who threw the first punch, it only mattered that by the time they were done, only one was standing. After a brief and bitter sparring match, Dade stood over Marty Lee. He stared down, gasping for breath as Marty Lee wiped his bloody lip.

"I guess my left side isn't so exposed after all, is it?" Dade taunted.

Marty Lee scissored his legs apart before snapping them at Dade's knees. He flipped himself over to apply pressure to Dade's knees and force him to collapse to the mat. He pushed himself up onto his palms and kicked up to his feet so he stood over Dade.

"The rest of you still is," Marty Lee said, catching his breath.

Dade sighed in frustration as he lay on the mat. "You're right. I can't win this."

"You can win it. You just don't want it enough."

Dade nodded, agreeing with Marty Lee, "My get up and go, got up and went."

"Then go after it," Marty Lee said, sitting down next to Dade. "I'd kill to be where you are."

"You had your shot, but I took you out," Dade smirked, shoving Marty Lee playfully. "You may not have been at your best that day, but that's hardly my fault, is it?"

Marty Lee punched Dade in the arm quite hard, to which Dade chuckled and winced as he rubbed his arm. He shoved Marty Lee and sighed before he stood up and helped Marty Lee to his feet.

"I think you need a bit of humility," Marty Lee said, hands on his hips. "Maybe a stiff fuck up the ass would do the trick."

"Been there, done that," Dade yawned. "Next?"

"You're the most difficult student I've ever had,"

"It's your sexual frustration. You're still turned on by me," Dade sniggered, shoving Marty Lee's shoulder. "Bet you wish you could still manipulate me like the evil mother fucker we all know you still are, huh?"

"Takes one to know one," Marty Lee narrowed his eyes at Dade, before grabbing his face roughly. "Don't push me, Marcus. I may seem more amiable to you, but it only seems that way."

"Guess that means I still make you horny," Dade smirked, unmoved by Marty Lee's grip on his face.

"Unfortunately," Marty Lee grunted, shoving Dade away.

Marty Lee stood, breathing hard as he composed himself. Dade picked up his gi and put it on before he turned and headed for the showers. Marty Lee stayed on the mat, clearly upset. He finally stormed after Dade into the showers. He found Dade already standing in the shower and made his presence known by turning the cold water to full.

"Shit!" Dade shrieked, jumping out of the water's spray. "The fuck did you do that for?"

Marty Lee clenched his fists and stared at Dade. His eyes were dark with anger, and something else. Something primal. He stepped toward Dade, breathing hard as his eyes took in all that Dade's naked body offered. He was like a hunter who had been kept from his prey for too long. Yet just before he was within touching distance of Dade, he slammed his hand against the tiled wall and cursed.

"Someone's sexually frustrated," Dade smirked, before his eyes softened. "Guess it's been a while, huh?"

"Shut up," Marty Lee said, closing his eyes to try and compose himself again.

"You always try to act so controlled, don't you?" Dade asked, stepping in front of Marty Lee, as if to taunt him further with his naked flesh, "but deep down, I know you're just a weak little man like the rest of us. You follow your dick the same way all men do. Your dick just happens to lead to me."

Marty Lee growled lowly before stepping forward and pushing Dade against the wall. Like an animal he rutted against Dade, kissing his neck and groping him roughly. Dade barely protested as his hands gripped Marty Lee's hair. They breathed hard against one another, eyes cast down. Their lips did not cross that line, but they danced along it.

"I want you," Marty Lee said in a husky voice, aching to press his lips against Dade's. "I can't help myself."

"You're an animal," Dade gasped, trying to compose himself and fight the rush of lust that filled him, "I don't even like you."

"I don't like you either," Marty Lee grunted, still breathing hard against Dade's lip, "I just need you. Don't make me beg."

"I told you," Dade said, closing his eyes, "Never again."

"She's not enough for you,"

"She has to be," Dade groaned, "I made a promise,"

Dade opened his eyes and cupped Marty Lee's face. He took a deep breath and composed himself finally. He had almost been caught up in the sin of lust and desire.

"It would've just been sex."

"That's all I wanted," Marty Lee gasped, nodding in agreement, "It's all you needed."

"I did," Dade confessed, "But we can't. I hate you."

"That's what makes it perfect. You love her. You just need the fix. So do I. It can be like the old days," Marty Lee whispered, "But it'll be different this time."

"I'm not your sex toy. I won't let you use me again," Dade gasped, "You say you confessed all your sins. I bet you never told Storm that one, huh?"

Marty Lee groaned and stepped back, all lust quickly draining from his body. He sighed and moved back against the opposite wall. He stared at Dade with a look of remorse and regret.

"Storm doesn't know. I don't know why you never told him."

"Pride," Dade said, "Shame. Take your pick."

"The trouble with trying to redeem yourself is you have to face everything you've done," Marty Lee said as he slid down the wall, "I thought I'd faced this, but ..."

"You did. It's over. I'm ok. I could've stopped you and you could've been less of an asshole, but it's over. I just want to pretend it never happened," Dade said, stepping over to Marty Lee, "Storm would've killed you. And I mean that literally. Maybe he wouldn't now, but back then, he would've. You took advantage of me and I let you. Nobody else knows and I want it to stay that way. If you ever tell anyone else about what happened between us, I will raise a shitstorm for you the likes of which you have never seen before. Understand? You have guilt? Tough shit. I have a life, and I don't want it being interrupted by past bullshit."

"I'm sorry," Marty Lee said, staring dumbly at the wet shower floor.

"Yes, you are," Dade said, holding his hand down to Marty Lee, "Just do me a favour and get yourself laid, ok?"

"Right, because there are just so many people lining up to get my attention."

* * * * * * *

"Marty Lee stayed the night?" Jacob asked, eyes wide as he sat on Claire's bed, staring at her.

"Two nights."

"Oh man," Jacob groaned, "I knew I should have come over."

"He's not right for you."

"And Dade's right for you?" Jacob challenged.

"Yes," Claire said simply, "He takes care of me. I live in his house. He provides for me and our baby. Stop picking on him."

"But ..." Jacob protested, frowning when Claire raised her hand to silence him.

"Stop it," Claire said in an authoritative tone, "I won't have it anymore. Understood? Dade is my boyfriend and I love him."

"But Ca ..." Jacob began to say before once more he was silenced.

"Carl is better off. He might not think so now, but later on he'll see. Stop being so idealistic. Life isn't ideal, so you just deal with what life does give you. I have Dade and I have this baby," Claire said, rubbing her stomach, "Dade isn't going away, Jacob, and he's done too much for me now for me to let you get away with slagging him off. It stops now."

Jacob's eyes began to water as he stood up moodily, "Fine," He said, turning on his heels to leave, "What does it matter what I think anyway? I'm only your twin."

"Jacob!" Claire called out, but Jacob had already left the room.

She tried to get up, but with her extra weight, by the time she did manage to stand up, she could hear the front door slamming shut. She sat down, sighing as she heard Jacob's car starting up. A few moments later she heard the door open again and she rushed out to the top of the stairs. She looked down but instead of seeing her brother she saw Dade smiling up at her.

"Hey, I just saw Jacob leaving. Everything ok?" Dade asked as he rushed up the stairs and greeted her with a warm kiss, "I love you."

"Really?" Claire asked, tilting her head in slight surprise.

"I do," Dade said, resting his forehead against hers, "More and more I find myself rushing to get home to you. I have to tell you something that happened today though. I think you should know, so you can decide if you trust me or not."

And so he told her. He told her about how Marty Lee had gotten worked up and the two were almost caught up in lust. She couldn't quite believe it because she knew they hated each other. Yet somehow she could see why it would be easier for them to sate such carnal desires. Knowing of Dade's bisexuality, Claire tried to digest and appreciate his situation. Yet this did not mean she was willing to compromise her own values for it.

"You're either with me or you aren't," Claire said bluntly, "If you don't want me, let me go. I have more self worth than to feel like your ball and chain. Just because you're bisexual doesn't mean you have a license to get a bit from the opposite sex while I'm at home carrying your baby."

"I know," Dade assured, rubbing her arms anxiously, "Please. I'm sorry. Nothing happened. I wouldn't have let it. I told you because I want you to be able to trust me. I'll never hide things from you. I might fuck up, but I'll still tell you when I do. I want you to trust me. Please trust me."

"We're a team, right?" Claire asked, eyes tearing up a little.

"You and me, Babe. You and me," Dade said, becoming a little emotional himself as he gave her a soft, lingering kiss, "I love you. I do. When I was driving home, I wanted to hurry because I knew you were here waiting for me. I like coming home to you."

"We're so young, Dade. We shouldn't be feeling this old," Claire sighed, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Mom did it," Dade said, stroking Claire's back, "We can do it too. We're doing ok, Claire. We can do this."

"But do we want to?" Claire asked, looking up into Dade's eyes, "Are we sure we're making the right choice for us as well as the baby?"

"This is where I want to be. I don't want you with anyone else raising our child. I want you with me. If you find you're unhappy later on, we'll address that then, ok? But I'm going to try my hardest to make you happy with me. You said it yourself. Not everyone gets the fairytale, but we can all write ourselves a happy ending, can't we?"

Claire smiled and sighed, closing her eyes and letting herself be held by Dade. Dade kissed her cheek and smiled, sighing contently. It hadn't been an easy time since Claire had moved in with him, but he was determined to ride it out. He knew they had the foundations to build something worthwhile and lasting. They just had to persist and endure the moments of doubt. Eventually it would all pay off. Dade was certain of that

* * * * * * *

"Lucas?" Josh called as he knocked on the inside of Lucas's open door.

"In here!" Lucas called cheerily from his kitchen.

Josh walked into the house and made his way into the kitchen to find Lucas on his knees, scrubbing the floor. Lucas looked up and smiled at Josh, which caused Josh to raise his eyebrow in surprise. He wasn't exactly expecting a warm reception.

"Listen, Lucas, I'm sorry for what happened with the team, but we really need you back," Josh said, getting down on his knees so he was eye level with Lucas, "Vice Captain is still an important position. None of the team will think any less of you. I won't let them."

"I think I've burned my last bridge there," Lucas said, shrugging, "They're your team now. I'm out. Already told Coach."

"Please, Lucas. I need you there,"

Lucas pondered this for a moment, before he pulled off his gloves and grabbed Josh's hand to shake it, "Sorry, Josh. My football days are over. I'm going to concentrate on school and focus on getting a good entry mark for college here. I'm staying local. How about you?"

"Lucas, please," Josh said, bypassing Lucas's question, "Come back to the team."

Lucas stood up and smiled, opening his fridge to pull out a beer. He opened the bottle and took a swig from it before he handed it to Josh. Josh took a drink and handed it back to Lucas, but Lucas declined by shaking his head.

"Trying to cut down," Lucas shrugged, "I should've taken a page out of Storm's book and outlawed alcohol altogether."

"I suppose if you have issues controlling how much you drink," Josh replied, "Do you?"

"You know I do," Lucas chuckled, "Now get out of here, ok? I'm trying to clean."

"There's nothing I can do to convince you to come back?"

"No. The team has spoken. There's another path out there for me."

"Well ..." Josh sighed, frowning, "I suppose a good luck is in order."

"Thanks, Josh," Lucas smiled, shaking Josh's hand again.

"Why couldn't you stop being an asshole before we voted you out?" Josh asked in annoyance.

"Maybe it was just my time." Lucas said, getting back down on his knees so he could keep scrubbing the floor, "Maybe it was just my time."

* * * * * * *

Josh left the training rooms, emerging to see Brad sitting outside the library studying. If Josh had it his way, Brad would keep studying forever and never contemplate rejoining the football team. He knew that wasn't what Brad wanted. He knew Brad wanted to join the team again, and that the only thing stopping him doing that was Josh.

Their falling out had left an incredible void in Josh's life. The pair barely spoke or acknowledged each other now. Josh was hoping that once the empty spot on the team was filled again, Brad would come around and they could go back to being the way they were. Yet somehow he knew that would not be the case. He had to try to fix things now. He couldn't stomach this silence between them.

Brad had even skipped coming over to see Billy the previous weekend, much to Billy's disappointment. Josh knew that was at least partly his fault. He stepped up to Brad's table and took a deep breath.

"Hey."

Brad barely acknowledged the greeting or Josh's presence. He simply sat reading his book, completely ignoring Josh.

"Look, Brad, we have to talk about this."

"You have no right to tell me what I can and can't do," Brad said, finally turning and tilting his head up to acknowledge Josh, "This is my life and my future you're messing with here."

"I'm just trying to watch out for you," Josh sighed anxiously, "Can't you see that?"

"I'm not your boyfriend, Josh. It's not your job."

Josh felt the sting in that comment and turned to walk away. He knew this conversation wasn't going to end well. The best thing to do was walk away.

Brad stood up, cursing himself. He rushed after Josh, grabbing his shoulder. He gave Josh a mild look of apology, to which Josh returned the gesture.

"All I'm asking for is a shot," Brad said softly, "Why is that so much to ask for?"

"Brad, you almost died," Josh said, voice tight with obvious emotion, "I had to sit there and almost watch you die. I won't let you endanger yourself."

"Josh, I'm ok now," Brad assured, gripping Josh's arms, "Ok?"

"No," Josh said, shaking his head, "I can't let you play, Brad. I'm sorry."

"It's not your choice!" Brad gasped, shoving Josh in frustration.

Josh grabbed Brad and shoved him against the wall. The two gripped each other's collars, both glaring at one another, waiting for either to make the first move. Josh finally let go, holding his hands up in apology.

"You can't stop me from trying out, Josh," Brad said bitterly, "You can't."

"Yes. I can," Josh said bluntly.

"I hate you, Josh," Brad said finally, fed up, "I fucking hate you. It's not my fault you're in love with me."

There are moments that define people. Moments that define how people view others, and how people view themselves. For Josh, one of those moments was right now. In this moment he had a choice. He was surrounded now by members of the team and other students who had gathered around the commotion. Hearing Brad say he hated him had snapped Josh's self control. The last words Brad spoke caused Josh to react in a way he never thought he would.

Josh hit Brad with a right hook out of nowhere. Josh's fist slammed against Brad's jaw with a sickening crack. Brad hit the ground in a flash before Josh had even realized what he'd done. Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion for Josh. He couldn't believe what he'd done. He was still charged up with adrenaline but that was quickly giving way to guilt.

To Josh's absolute horror, people were actually cheering the fact he'd knocked Brad down. He turned around, his world flashing around him as people taunted and jeered Brad. The outcast had been sent back down to the sewers of the High School class system with one hit.

Many people were applauding Josh for defending himself against Brad's 'slur', which made Josh sick to his stomach. As Brad spat up blood and crawled along the ground, they continued to jeer him. Finally coming to his senses Josh was about to rush to help Brad. Before he could reach him, Carl charged through his teammates and tackled Josh against the wall.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" He yelled before he rushed to Brad and helped him to his feet.

Brad was still woozy so Carl was forced to support much of his weight so they could make a quick escape. The jeers of the crowd were dying down as they were forced to disperse because of the incoming teachers. Carl rushed Brad off the field into the bushes behind the school.

Josh could only watch them as tears welled up in his eyes and he cursed himself in frustration. He was pulled away from the scene by Bobby Weiss. Bobby tried to ask him what was going on, but all Josh could hear were the horrid laughs at Brad's expense.

* * * * * * *

Marty Lee stood at the front door to Marcel's house, having just knocked lightly to announce his presence. He'd just finished showering and changing at the dojo and made sure he was dressed in something almost formal. He wasn't sure if Marcel's parents would be home, but just in case they were, he wanted to make a good impression. He'd never met them before, as they seemed to be mostly absentee parents, which was no doubt the reason Marcel was already so independent.

When the door opened he was greeted by what seemed to be a butler. A butler? He knew Marcel's parents were wealthy, but Marcel always seemed the type to frown upon that sort of thing.

"Good evening, Sir," The man said in a proper accent, "How may I serve?"

"Might I speak with Marcel, please, Sir?" Marty Lee asked in a genial tone.

"Good evening, Young man. I don't believe we've met before. Are you a friend of Poppet's?" A woman asked, "Are you here for the dinner party?"

Marty Lee suddenly felt as though he were back in his hometown of Eljay. He never expected to see such class living here in Merlow. He knew Marcel's family was well off, but he didn't think they were uncannily like his own family. Except perhaps without the mean streak.

Marcel's mother appeared to be in her mid 40s and had the same blonde hair as Marcel. She had the same eyes, the same smile. He could see where Marcel received a lot of his looks from. Most of all he noticed that she had a friendly smile. He returned her smile in kind.

"It's alright, Katherine," Marcel said as he rushed up behind her and grabbed Marty Lee, "I'll take care of him."

"Should I have an extra place setting made up, Poppet?" She asked.

"No, thank you. He won't be here long,"

"I won't? Oh please let me stay, Poppet," Marty Lee smirked as Marcel dragged him out of the large foyer and up the grand stairway.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Poppet?" Marty Lee asked, trying not to laugh as Marcel closed the bedroom door behind them.

"Don't you dare say that word outside of this house."

"Poppet," Marty Lee said, tapping his chin, "It's cute."

"So is my foot up your ass,"

"Easy, Tiger," Marty Lee chuckled, "I'm not here to cause trouble. I never knew you had a butler though. Didn't think you were the type."

"I'm not," Marcel groaned, "Katherine brought him home. I've never been into the whole hired help thing. They brought him over from their house on the coast. I really can't stand the idea, but they won't be here long anyway."

"What are you doing back in Merlow, if you don't mind me asking? And are you here for long?"

"I do mind you asking," Marcel smirked before he pushed Marty Lee into an empty chair, "Now talk. I'm about to make my dashing escape before this dinner party kicks off."

"You're not staying?"

"I think not," Marcel said vehemently.

"Why not?"

"You don't know me very well, so let's not bother answering that question," Marcel said, "Quick, quick, speak up."

"How did you do it?" Marty Lee asked, "How did you get him to stop so easily?"

"Easily? He didn't stop easily. And I don't think he's stopped. I don't know how bad it is with him. You do. Let's just see how he goes. I think right now he needs to know that life goes on, you know? He's so hung up on Storm but I think he's finally accepted that Storm isn't coming back," Marcel said, tossing a tennis ball up as he spoke, "Once he came to terms with that, he seemed to straighten out himself. Maybe I helped, maybe I didn't. I don't know. I just try to be his friend."

"You did help," Marty Lee said, extending his hand, "That's why I'm here. I wanted to say thank you."

"You're not his keeper. You don't need to thank me," Marcel said, though he shook Marty Lee's hand anyway, "He's my friend. And I still think you're psychonuts."

"Naturally," Marty Lee smirked, shrugging, "It's kind of nice to see some snobbery in Merlow. I was beginning to think we were a dying breed."

"You are," Marcel said with a smirk of his own before he marched to his wardrobe and walked in to find himself an outfit, "Now, is that all? I might as well come with you. I was just about to get ready to go over and see Lucas."

"Did I say you could come to my house tonight?" Marty Lee asked petulantly, though playfully.

Marcel walked out of the wardrobe, rolling his eyes. Marty Lee couldn't help but stare a little at the now shirtless Marcel as he changed. Marcel seemed oblivious to the effect he was having on Marty Lee. Marty Lee himself seemed oblivious to the effect Marcel was having on himself, for he was too busy staring.

Marty Lee frowned when he did realize he was staring. After all, he was beyond such blatant lust. He was better than that.

No he wasn't. That brief moment of weakness with Dade was not just an aberration. His eyes were tracing the curves of Marcel's pecs over his nipples and then down to his navel. He gulped before he closed his eyes and cursed himself again. This lusting was becoming habitual.

"Hey, Psychonuts," Marcel said, waving his hand in front of Marty Lee's face, "You with me?"

"Just trying to come to grips with the fact you're returning to my humble home."

"Hey, get happy, I'm staying the night too!" Marcel grinned, poking out his tongue, "Now come on, we have to make our exit before the poopers start showing."

"Poopers?" Marty Lee asked, raising an eyebrow only because it distracted him from staring at Marcel, "Could you hurry up and change? I don't have all evening."

"Let's go!" Marcel said, pulling Marty Lee to his feet as he threw his backpack over his shoulder, "I need saving."

The pair made their way downstairs just as some of the guests were making their way into the house. Marcel did his best to sneak past, but Katherine was too astute to let him go by without notice.

"Poppet!" She called, "Poppet, is that how you're dressing for tonight?"

"I was planning on going out actually," Marcel replied.

"Nonsense. Tonight you must attend, Poppet," Katherine said, adjusting his collar, "There's some people I want you to meet. Your father needs to make a good impression tonight."

Marcel sighed and nodded, turning to Marty Lee. He was about to send him off when he saw Marty Lee smirking as if happy to see Marcel get forced into staying. Marcel narrowed his eyes and turned to his mother.

"Katherine, this is Marty Lee Miller. He's come to join us this evening."

Marty Lee's eyes widened instantly as he stared at Marcel in surprise. Marcel merely smirked and stepped back so Marty Lee could head back upstairs. He'd obviously have to give Marty Lee something formal to wear. Thankfully they were of similar height, though Marcel had a stockier build than Marty Lee.

Marcel smirked and put his arm around Marty Lee's shoulder, "We'll have a smashing time, Old chap."

* * * * * * *

Dade walked into the house, groceries in both arms. He walked into the kitchen to find Jacob pouring himself a drink and helping himself to a sandwich. He knew Jacob was Claire's brother, but sometimes the guy just flat out annoyed him. Dade knew he annoyed Jacob just as much, but the difference was that this was his house and he would only take a certain amount of disrespect on the chin before he let Jacob have it. Unfortunately for Jacob, Dade had just about reached his limit.

Dade pulled out two bottles of milk to place in the fridge just as Jacob was putting the pitcher of water back in. Having been raised by parents who were particular about good manners, Dade found it entirely disrespectful when Jacob intentionally closed the fridge just when Dade was about to put the milk in. Dade bit his lip as he felt a rush of anger welling up inside him.

Jacob walked smugly to the bench, leaving his dirty dishes on the bench. Dade placed the milk into the fridge and turned back to the bench. Jacob sat on the other side of the bench staring blankly at Dade, as if challenging him.

"Bit of a messy house you have here, Dade," Jacob said smugly.

Anyone who knew Dade knew that he was an incredible neat freak. A dirty house was a lazy house. And frankly, he considered Jacob to be a disrespectful jerk. A jerk he'd had enough of.

Dade moved to the bench and continued packing away the groceries. He paid Jacob no heed, doing his best to take the high road. When Jacob walked through the kitchen again to discard a sandwich he'd only taken a bite out of, Dade felt himself fuming. Wasteful and disrespectful. Yet still Dade took the high road.

It was only when Jacob 'accidentally' bumped into Dade on his way back through the kitchen, causing Dade to drop the bottle of mayonnaise in his hand, that Dade finally snapped. His hand shot out, grabbing Jacob's neck before he rushed him back against the wall. He gritted his teeth and growled, squeezing Jacob's neck.

"I don't give a fuck what you think about me. You are in my house and I let you get away with shit because you're Claire's brother. But your free ride just expired," Dade warned with tight anger evident in his face, "Don't you ever disrespect me in my own house again."

Jacob responded by spitting right in Dade's face. Dade couldn't believe it. He reacted on instinct and pulled his fist back in a flash, ready to knock Jacob on his ass.

"Dade!" Claire yelled, taking Dade by surprise, "Get away from him!"

Dade responded by turning to Claire, giving Jacob enough time to blindside him with a cheap-shot punch. Dade growled angrily and lunged at Jacob, stopped in his tracks only by the sudden appearance of Brad. Brad kept them apart using all his energy, but to be fair it was Dade who was doing most of the lunging. Jacob seemed to want no part of a fight now that he'd gotten his hit in. He knew as well as anyone that Dade could well and truly savage him with a beating.

"Dade!" Claire yelled, eyes wide as she grabbed Dade and pulled him away from Brad, "Stop it! Leave him alone!"

Claire had to physically keep pushing Dade back to stop him from trying to get back at Jacob. She finally got Dade's attention when he turned and nearly screamed at her.

"What!?"

Claire responded by slapping him with a fury. The slap was hard enough to stop Dade in his tracks and he instantly stared at her in disbelief, flashing hurt in his eyes. Claire was as charged up on adrenaline as Dade was, acting just as much on instinct as he.

"Don't you ever touch him!" Claire yelled, shaking Dade by the shirt.

Were it not for the fact she was pregnant with his child, Dade thought he might have returned her slap with one of his own. He was that angry. It was bad enough for Jacob to mistreat him, but Claire as well?

"What the fuck!?" Dade gasped, angry tears in his eyes, "Do you even have any fucking idea what the hell he did!?"

"I saw what you were about to do!"

"This is my house! I won't fucking take his disrespect anymore! You hear me!?" Dade screamed at her, "He ain't no fucking innocent saint, Claire!"

"I don't care! I don't care! You never lay a finger on him, ever!" Claire roared, which made her diminutive height and rotund stomach seem march larger than they really were, "You ever touch him again and I'm gone!"

Dade gasped, crying sharply as tears fell bitterly down his face. He clenched as fists and stared at her with hurt in his eyes. He couldn't believe what was happening.

"You don't even care anyway!" Dade screamed, "You're supposed to be on my side!"

"He's my brother!"

"And what the fuck am I?" Dade gasped, grabbing his keys from on top of the fridge, "I don't fucking need this shit."

"Dade!" Claire yelled as Dade headed for the door.

Dade had already slammed the door behind him before she could say anything else. Claire let out a scream of frustration, clearly upset with tears in her own eyes.

"It's ok, Sis," Jacob said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

Claire responded by turning and smacking Jacob with a stiff slap. It took Jacob completely by surprise and he staggered backwards. He gasped in disbelief and stared at her.

"And don't you ever lay a hand on him either," Claire said angrily, "Don't think I didn't see what you did. You've gotten away with treating him like shit for a long time and I let you. Never again. If you ever try that stunt again, you will never be welcome in this house again. Do you understand me?"

"But ..." Jacob said, stunned and upset with Claire's siding with Dade, "But he's such a dick! Claire, you deserve better!"

"Do I?" Claire said emotionally, "Do I deserve better than having someone wait on me hand and foot? Do I deserve better than to have a roof over my head each night I go to sleep? Do I deserve better than to have someone make sure I'm fed and taken care of when everyone else just wants to look down on me? Do I deserve better than everything Dade gives me? If you can't see what he does for me, then you're blinded by your hate. He does so much for me and you don't give him any credit for that, because you're a mean, selfish, spoiled bastard."

"But you don't love him."

"That's where you're wrong," Claire said firmly, as if finally confessing it to herself as much as Jacob, "I love him, Jacob. I love him as much as I love this baby I'm carrying. And it's time for you to accept that or get the hell out."

"Claire ..." Jacob said, eyes teary as he stared at her in disbelief.

"The next time you disrespect him, you disrespect me," Claire said, "And if you want to keep coming here and partaking in the generous nature of the man I love, then you'd better bloody well change your attitude and give him one hell of an apology. Now get out of my sight."

Brad pulled Jacob aside, giving Claire the space she obviously needed. No sooner had he pulled Jacob aside, Claire was rushing out the door. Unfortunately for her, Dade was already speeding up the street in Storm's jeep.

"Dade!" Claire cried, sobbing and upset as she stood on the street holding her stomach, "Dade!"

* * * * * * *

"I'd give anything to be at Storm's right now," Marcel said as he stood with Marty Lee out on the deck, sipping a class of Corban's Dom Perignon.

The dinner party was going very well for his parents, which for Marcel meant it was an incredible bore, filled with pomposity and fake smiles. The two cut a dashing sight with Marty Lee in a black suit with a green tie and frem white shirt. Marcel wore a white suit, for the express purpose of differentiating himself from Marty Lee. Oddly enough, they'd made good company tonight as Marty Lee could relate quite well to Marcel's plight and knew exactly how to conduct himself.

"Storm's not here," Marty Lee said, a little confused as he stood beside Marcel, holding an untouched glass of champagne in his hand.

Marcel smiled as he stared out into the night, his eyes reflecting on a memory that made him feel positively warm, "My parents were never very good at being parents. I love them, but we have a ... unique relationship. When I was younger, I used to get out of these things and go over to Storm's. Mom wou ... June ... she'd always make sure I had a nice dinner. It was ... homely. I used to have the greatest time running away from here just to ... to be there. Even if we were all just sitting around laughing, it was so ... real," He said, eyes tinged with emotion, "So good. Now it's gone. And I know I'll never have that again."

"Don't cry, you'll make us look gay," Marty Lee said in a deadpan voice.

Marcel gave Marty Lee a small smile and sighed, still staring out into the night, "I miss her. I miss that life."

Marty Lee sobered, his usually sharp tongue keeping itself in check for once. He nodded softly in response, feeling he could relate albeit in a much smaller way. This was probably the most he had ever heard Marcel talk about his past.

"I'm sorry," Marty Lee said finally.

"It's alright," Marcel smiled, turning to face Marty Lee, "You're probably the only person who understands what it's like to be me. Except in your case, you get off on it."

"It's true. I'm entirely superficial and I do enjoy it," Marty Lee smirked, "There's nothing wrong with appreciating the finer things in life."

"I guess our definition of 'fine' is different."

"That's what happens when you hang out with commoners."

Marcel raised his finger and quietly, but firmly spoke, "Careful."

"Sorry," Marty Lee said, taking a small sip of his drink, "I have a hard time not being an asshole."

Marcel shrugged, "I noticed you were quiet during dinner."

"I like to observe," Marty Lee stated, "Besides, their conversation was something else, wasn't it?"

Marcel was about to speak when they were approached by one of the other guests. John Garden, a friend of Conrad Lewis's and a member of the Family Values Coalition. Marcel took a deep breath for what he was certain would be a riveting conversation. For someone espousing traditional values, Mr. Garden was rather inebriated, which Marcel was certain breached some form of good conduct in his organization.

"Mr. Garden," Marcel said with a cordial nod.

"Marcel, I've been hearing a great deal of good things about you coming out of the academy," John said with a smile, "Thing are going well, I trust?"

"Splendidly, thank you."

"Your parents have been very generous with their support. You're making quite a name for yourself now. I do hope we can count on your support in the future as well. You're an excellent role model for impressionable young minds," John said, becoming quite animated in his quite drunk state, "The media is no help. They're obviously setting their own agenda trying to get our young folk to forget the role of a man in his own home. These feminists and their frightful movements are tearing down the masculinity of our young men. They make men feel like they should be ashamed of being men."

"Oh, ashamed, yes," Marcel exaggerated, nodding his head, "Shameful women. You know they're all lesbians."

"Exactly!" John said, agreeing vehemently with Marcel and quite impressed, "And you know that's another thing, Marcel. These blasted homosexuals. The media try to tell our children it's perfectly fine to be a homosexual. It's not fine. It's damned unnatural. It's time we started shifting this world back to traditional values."

"Traditional," Marcel nodded, "Of course. Those blasted homosexuals, infecting our good world, aren't they?"

"Why yes," John said, absolutely chuffed that he'd met a young man who shared his views, "And who is your friend, Marcel?"

"Oh, Marty Lee?" Marcel said, smiling brightly as he grabbed Marty Lee's hand and held it up so John could see their interlaced fingers, "He's my life partner!"

Marty Lee felt like curling into a small ball and disappearing from the world. Yet the flabbergasted look on John Garden's face as he stared at them and wandered away, taking a large drink of his champagne, made it all worthwhile.

"Oh God, I can't believe you just did that!" Marty Lee said, breaking into red faced laughter, "Are you crazy?"

"No, just happy," Marcel smirked, putting his glass down, "I think that's enough hobnobbing for me tonight. Let's get out of here before I ruin Conrad and Katherine's evening any further."

"But I was having such a good time mingling with people of my own caliber again," Marty Lee chuckled.

"Which is precisely the reason I want to get out of here," Marcel said as he made a bee line for the house.

He grabbed his bags, which he'd made sure to leave close to the front door. In the midst of the dinner party, he was easily able to slip out with Marty Lee. The two looked like a pair of 007s making a getaway in the night. When they reached the car, Marty Lee leaned against it, smirking at Marcel.

"Life partner, hmm?"

"Life is short," Marcel responded bluntly as he opened their doors and the pair hopped in, "And if you don't wipe that moment from your memory, it will be over."

"Tsk, tsk," Marty Lee chuckled before his phone started ringing.

He answered the phone as Marcel drove, his face quickly sobering. He hung up the phone and sighed, turning to Marcel.

"Could you drop me off at the dojo, please?"

"What?" Marcel asked in surprise, turning so that he could do just as Marty Lee asked, "At this time of the night?"

"Your former life partner sounds like he's in a bit of a crisis. He wants to train."

"Dade?" Marcel asked, frowning, "Is he alright?"

"I don't know, but if he wants to train, I'm certainly not going to stop him. So just drop me off so you can go over to see Lucas."

"I could come in," Marcel suggested, worried for Dade, "Make sure he's ok."

"That's a terrible idea."

"Why?"

"Because if you came in, he would be ok," Marty Lee said, "And I need him angry and unresolved. If he doesn't find some anger, he'll never win the nationals."

"Fucking nationals," Marcel sighed, shaking his head as he drove, "I can't believe he's even bothering to compete. What's the draw for him now? There's no Storm to beat."

"My sentiments exactly. But if he wants to train, I'm going to train him," Marty Lee said emphatically, "The nationals are only days away. He needs all the training he can get. Are you going to fly up to watch? I'm flying Dade up with a small entourage."

"What are you, his manager now or something?"

"I suppose so," Marty Lee said, shrugging, "I want him to win."

"What about Sensei Takada?"

"He's needed back here with the rest of the students," Marty Lee said as they pulled up outside of the dojo, "Will you be there?"

"No," Marcel sighed, "I won't be there. I've seen enough of that sort of thing, thank you very much."

"Alright then," Marty Lee said, stepping out of the car, "Thanks for dinner.

* * * * * * *

"Again!" Marty Lee yelled as he Dade practiced his kata motions, "Again!"

Left straight punch, right straight punch, left thrust kick, right thrust kick. In-step block, right upper block, in-step block, left upper block. Over and over Dade went through the drills, fueled by his anger at Claire and Jacob. His form was flawless and precise, giving Marty Lee the impression that finally Dade was capable of winning.

He knew the Marcus brothers were fueled by their passions. If only he could bottle Dade's and give it to him on the day of the Nationals.

He stepped onto the mat and joined Dade in his exercises. The pair formed a synchronous blend of steps, jabs, and kicks. It was hard to distinguish where one ended and the other started.

Almost two hours later, Dade had exhausted his body and his anger. He leaned against the wall and caught his breath. He nodded gratefully to Marty Lee and pulled off his gi.

Dade wiped the sweat from his chest with his gi, staring at Marty Lee. The two shared a glance and Dade suddenly contemplated the idea of throwing everything with Claire away. Quite easily he could let Marty Lee cross the distance between them. There was no one else in the dojo.

His fight with Claire had made him begin reconsidering what he was doing. He had no love for Marty Lee, but he was a body. He was an escape.

Almost simultaneously however, Marty Lee and Dade both shook their heads and smiled. It would never happen. Not unless both finally accepted they were as worthless as they sometimes thought themselves to be.

"Claire and I had a fight," Dade sighed, leaning against the wall.

Marty Lee nodded, understanding now why Dade had been so upset. He could also understand now why Dade had perhaps contemplated a torrid encounter. He responded with the usual Marty Lee sympathy.

"Breeders," Marty Lee said flatly as he walked past Dade into the showers.

Dade raised his eyebrow in his own trademark fashion at that statement before he gasped, "Asshole!"

All Marty Lee could do was chuckle as he stepped into the shower area. He watched Dade with amusement and let out a yawn. It had been an awfully long day and an even longer evening.

"Are you going to work things out?" Marty Lee asked.

Dade contemplated this for a moment before he shrugged, "I have to. I don't really have a choice."

"Everybody has a choice, Dade," Marty Lee said thoughtfully, rinsing shampoo out of his hair, "Even when they think they don't. Saying you have no choice is easy. Saying you've made one, now that's hard. Have you made one?"

* * * * * * *

Dade had barely hopped out of the jeep when Claire rushed out the door and almost tackled him with a fierce hug. She smothered his face in kisses as she sobbed and whispered apologies over and over.

"Hey, hey, shhh," Dade whispered, rubbing her back and holding her, "Don't get upset, Baby. I'm sorry. You were right."

"Jacob had no right to hit you. He had no right to disrespect you. He won't do it again. I've warned him," Claire said, crying profusely as she clutched to Dade, "Please don't leave me."

"What's this talk?" Dade asked in a soothing, though worried voice, "How could I leave you? I live here."

"You know what I mean," Claire sniffled, stifling a chuckle, "I'm so sorry, Dade. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I hit you."

"I don't want you getting upset, ok?" Dade said, picking Claire up in his arms.

She was a petite young woman but the extra weight made Dade do a double take at first. He kissed her lips and carried her inside. He carried her up to their bedroom and lay down with her on their bed.

He knew they'd fought, but right now he didn't care. All he cared about was that he was home, holding the girl he was slowly realizing he hated being away from. He kissed her forehead and then her lips.

"I love you, Dade," Claire whispered, "I honestly do."

"Funny. I'm just realizing how honest that is for me too," Dade smiled, before the two shared a deep, passionate kiss.

The two touched, held, caressed, and kissed each other until Claire was sleeping soundly. Dade knew there was more to be said. There was probably another argument to be had before this whole issue was resolved, but he knew they shouldn't go to sleep without letting the other know they were loved.

He slipped off the bed and headed downstairs to get himself a drink of water. Much to his surprise, Jacob was still here. He was mopping the kitchen floor when he noticed Dade. He poured Dade a drink and held it out to him with a look of remorse on his face.

"I'm sorry for the way I've been acting," Jacob said, clearly ashamed, "I'm sorry I hit you."

"And spat on me," Dade pointed out.

"I've been incredibly rude and I have no excuse for my behaviour. I want Claire to go back to Carl. I guess I finally realize now that you two are really serious about this."

"For someone who has an intelligent sister, you're awfully slow."

"Yeah," Jacob smiled softly, still standing like a child who knew they'd misbehaved, "Will you give me a chance to make it up to you, please?"

"Can't I just beat you up instead?" Dade smirked, before he shrugged, "Have a seat, Jacob. I think it's time I was blunt with you."

Jacob sat down and prepared himself for a stern talking to. He knew he deserved it, but he wasn't looking forward to it.

"I won't ever let you disrespect me like that again. Especially not here in my own house. Alright?" Dade asked, before he continued, "I honestly don't care anymore whether or not you like me. All I care about is Claire and our baby. I love your sister. The more I'm with her, the more I realize how much more I love her. I want this to work more than anything. Tonight I knew I could have walked out that door and just blown it all away. I made a choice. My choice was Claire. So no matter what you do, I'm here for the duration. You can either get used to me, or see Claire somewhere else. I want us to get along, Jacob, but you've almost burned your last bridge with me. And I know a lot about burning bridges."

"Please. She's my twin," Jacob pleaded, "Please, Dade. I'm sorry."

Dade nodded to Jacob and patted his shoulder, "Alright, Bud. Let's just get on with it, alright?"

"Thank you," Jacob sighed, nodding his head with relief, "Thank you."

* * * * * * *

"How you feeling this morning, Sheridan?" Marcel asked as he lay across Lucas's bed, his head resting on Lucas's thigh.

"Great, Dude," Lucas said with a yawn and a cheery smile, "It's a beautiful morning and I don't have a hangover. Great start, huh?"

Lucas chuckled and Marcel couldn't help but smile. He'd watched Lucas since he'd gotten back, spending practically every day together when they were both free. He knew that time was about to come to an end, but he wasn't sure how to broach that topic with Lucas. He didn't want to upset Lucas and he still had a feeling Lucas might not cope on his own. Hopefully Marty Lee could help in that area.

"Think you're going to be ok now?" Marcel asked, turning on his side so he could look at Lucas.

"I hope so, Dude. I have to," Lucas said, nodding his head as if to give himself reassurance, "I have to."

"Lucas ..." Marcel said softly.

"You're leaving again, aren't you?" Lucas sighed.

He knew Marcel too well. He knew his tone, he knew his patterns. He knew Marcel no longer lived in Merlow, and that his visits were usually brief. Yet part of him was hoping Marcel would stay around a bit longer.

"Yes," Marcel nodded, reaching over to squeeze Lucas's hand, "But there's this thing right. It's called a phone. And you know, you push the little buttons with numbers and ..."

Lucas promptly swatted Marcel's head with his free hand and burst out laughing. He knew he could call Marcel, but he always preferred face to face. He'd always been a touchy feely person. Someone who appreciated a good hug or a reassuring arm around the shoulder. It was still hard to fathom then that he had become such a bitter, cold person since Storm's departure. It was no wonder he was voted out as a co-captain.

"It's not the same," Lucas sighed, "I just wish you didn't have to go. I miss you, Dude."

"I'll be back. You know I will,"

"When are you leaving? And why did you come in the first place? You never did tell me," Lucas said, a little curious.

"Honestly?" Marcel said, sighing as he turned on his back and stared up at the ceiling, "I think I want to come home. Actually, I don't really think it. I want to come home. I was homesick and I had some free time."

"Dude! Come home then!" Lucas said excitedly, sitting up so Marcel's head was now in his lap, "Come on!"

"It's not as easy as just coming home," Marcel frowned, "We'll just have to wait and see. I'm not sure I could actually do it without sacrificing some of what I've been working to for so long."

"Yeah ..." Lucas sighed, realizing Marcel was right, "You were always meant for bigger things than little old Merlow, Dude."

"Merlow for life, Man."

"I guess even the new Sports Center doesn't compare anything to Drake, huh?"

"No," Marcel said, shaking his head, "It doesn't. Not even close. But I'll be honest with you. Ever since I was stabbed, my leg hasn't fully recovered. I'm still good enough to be there, but ... I feel like I won't reach the levels I wanted to. I've had to focus specifically on being a tri-athlete now, instead of a pure distance runner, which is where I was hoping to end up."

"Dude, I'm so sorry," Lucas said, frowning with anger, "Those assholes. I'm glad they got theirs."

"Anyway, let's not talk about it. Suffice it to say, Sheridan, that I have plans in mind and I guess I needed to come home to give myself some space to figure out what I really want to do."

"And have you figured it out?"

"I'm getting there."

"Well, if you ever need to talk, Dude, there's this thing called a phone, right? And it has these ..."

Marcel burst into laughter and playfully punched Lucas's leg next to his head, "Walked me right into that one, didn't you?"

"And everyone thinks I'm so slow," Lucas chuckled, "The only thing I'm slow at apparently ... is moving on."

"It takes time, Lucas," Marcel said sympathetically, "For everyone. Not just you."

"I think ..." Lucas said, sighing, "I think I'm ready. I have to move on. I know one thing though."

"What's that?"

"I'll never love anyone as much as I loved ... love ... Storm," Lucas said sincerely, frowning softly, "Never."

* * * * * * *

Brad sat in the cafeteria during lunch, staring unhappily at his food. Ever since Josh had hit him, he'd returned to the role of school loser. Josh had tried several times to apologize to Brad, but Brad had stated in no uncertain terms that if Josh ever came near him again, the entire school would find out Josh was interested only in members of the same sex.

Brad knew if push came to shove, he wouldn't reveal Josh's secret. Even as hurt and angry as he was, he wasn't vindictive enough to betray Josh that way. As a result of their incident, Brad was even more determined to get on the team. He was beginning to truly hate Merlow and wanted to get as far from it as he could. The only way he could see that happening was on the back of a football scholarship. This was the last chance he had to make sure that happened.

"Hey, Loser," Marty Lee said as he sat down opposite Brad, surprising him.

"Go away," Brad grumbled, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

"You can't make me," Marty Lee said, reaching across the table to shove Brad.

"I said go away!" Brad gasped in annoyance and shock at Marty Lee's physicality with him.

"You want to make something of this, Reject?" Marty Lee taunted, standing to his feet.

"I'm not scared of you,"

"Prove it," Marty Lee smirked, "There's a friendly game out on the field. See you there if you're not scared, Loser."

Marty Lee walked off with a wink, before Brad could respond. He left Brad fuming with anger. More than angry, he was quite confused. Meet Marty out on the field for a friendly game? Scared? And what had that wink been for?

As Marty Lee's intent slowly began to sink in, Brad stood to his feet with a growing grin. He left his lunch on the table and sprinted out of the cafeteria. Running out of the building he made his way onto the main fields where indeed a friendly game of football was just starting up with teams about to be picked.

There were two groups, one where Marty Lee was captain and the other with Josh. Since it was only a friendly game there were people playing who weren't on the football team, but most of them were. As soon as Brad walked onto the field Marty Lee waved him over.

"There you are," Marty Lee smirked, winking at Brad, "You're on my team. You get last pick for your team, Josh."

"He can't play," Josh said suddenly, surprised by Brad's presence.

"This isn't the football team, Josh. It's just a friendly," Marty Lee snickered a little mischievously, "My team, my rules, my players. Get in here, Brad."

Brad slammed his fist into his hand, letting out a silent cheer as he threw down his bag and ran onto his side. With a scowl at Marty Lee, Josh huddled his team and the game was on. For Brad it was the most adrenaline fueled moment he could remember since the last time he'd played football.

However, a little field rust was obvious when on the first touch of the ball, Brad was caught by a stiff tackle from Bobby Weiss. Stacey Peters stood on the side of the field, cheering with the rest of her snobbish clique of girls. Bobby rolled his eyes and chuckled as the game resumed.

The next time Brad received the ball, he took another tackle. However, this time he fended off the tackle with a stiff palm and was soon making a break. Running purely on adrenaline he managed to step out of three tackles before he was finally sent to the ground. On instinct he began coordinating the plays, much as he had done when he was vice captain under Mike. It was all second nature to him, as if he'd never taken a break at all.

Part of him knew he had to prove himself so he made a point of running harder, tackling harder, and never substituting himself out of the game. For a friendly game, there was a lot of passion involved.

When Josh made a tackle on Brad that knocked the wind out of him, he quickly checked to see if Brad was ok. Brad growled and shoved Josh away as he stood up, glaring at him accusingly. When Josh next tried to tackle Brad, Brad set him back on his ass with a shoulder charge, before scoring.

Brad suddenly realized he was being cheered on by people watching the game. As exhilarated as he felt to be cheered again for the first time in a while, he also knew many of these people had cast him out. His response to their cheers was to give them all a one fingered salute.

He stalked over to Josh, breathing hard as he threw the ball down on Josh's chest, "I'm not asking for a spot anymore, I'm fucking taking the spot. Deal with it."

Josh could only lay on the ground, gasping and cursing as Brad walked away. He looked across the field at Marty Lee, narrowing his eyes at him before he shook his head. He couldn't hold Brad back anymore, because it was obvious Brad didn't just want to play, but he could still play better than most.

"Alright, Brad," Josh sighed, sitting up, "You get your shot."

* * * * * * *

The old treehouse behind the Marcus house had become a shadow of its former glory. No one graced it anymore. No one played in it, laughed in it, slept in it. It was a reminder of an era now ended. A reminder of friendships and loves that had passed into history. It was fitting then that tonight, one person sat inside it, trying to commit one of those loves to the past.

"I love you," Lucas whispered, holding a necklace in his fingers.

He sat in the dark of the treehouse, using the moonlight to illuminate the piece of jewelry in his hand. The necklace was made up of kanji combining Lucas's name with Storm's, along with the meaning 'Love as One'. It was perhaps one of the most beautiful items Lucas had ever possessed. It symbolized a love that Lucas knew would never be duplicated in his life. A love that took a great deal of time for him to learn to live without. Indeed, on some days he found it difficult to breathe without it.

It was for this reason that tonight was particularly difficult for Lucas. For it was tonight that Lucas was finally putting that love to rest. He could no longer let himself dwell on what he knew he'd lost.

He smiled thoughtfully as silent tears trailed his cheeks. He kissed the necklace as memories flashed through his mind. Memories of friendship. Memories of an evening at a train station that changed his life. Memories of a dolphin necklace given from one to another. Memories of love shared upon endless nights and a mess of sheets. Memories of him.

It all seemed so long ago now. Each day that passed made those memories feel a lifetime away. It was almost as if they weren't even real now. How could they have been? Was he truly that blessed to know a love so powerful?

Yes, he was. But now it was time for him to put that love to rest. He closed his eyes and slipped the necklace off his neck.

"I'll always love you," Lucas whispered, kissing the necklace one last time before he placed it in a small wooden box in the corner of the treehouse.

For the first time since receiving it, Lucas didn't wear that necklace. He stifled back a sob as he realized the significance and symbolism of the gesture. This was his goodbye to Storm.

"Goodbye, Storm," He gasped, smiling sadly through his tears before he crawled out of the treehouse and made his way out into the night.

* * * * * * *

"I wish I could come," Claire said, frowning miserably as Dade held her.

He would only be gone for a few days, but even Dade was dreading the prospect of being away from Claire. The Nationals were upon him. The guilt he felt for being part of the nationals now had mostly gone. He'd reconciled his fate and realized there was no point punishing himself anymore.

"You can't fly in your condition. And you'd miss school," Dade smiled, kissing the side of her head, "And we all know how much you hate missing school."

"I know," Claire sighed, still frowning, "I just ... how am I going to get by without you for so long?"

"I guess we've really become used to sitting in each other's pockets, haven't we?" He chuckled.

"I like your pocket," Claire sniffled, finally smiling, "I'm scared. Who will look after me while you're gone?"

"Brad," Dade assured, "He'll make sure you're ok."

"Yes, I'd be scared in that case too," Marty Lee added as he walked past them out the door to put some of Dade's bags in the trunk of his car.

"Quiet, you," Dade chuckled, kissing Claire's forehead, "I love you. You can call me anytime you need to, alright?"

"Ok," Claire nodded as her eyes began to tear up, "You better win, Dade. I'll feel most upset for you leaving me behind if you don't."

"Get ready to be upset then," Marty Lee said as he walked past them again, heading back into the house.

"Oh he's horrible," Claire chuckled, "Are you sure you're going to be alright with him?"

"Lucas will be there to keep him in line."

"He will?"

"We're picking him up now. Marty Lee didn't want to leave him at home alone. You know ..." Dade said, making a beer drinking motion with his hand.

"Oh ... right. Poor Lucas,"

Dade sighed and squeezed Claire's hand nervously, "Do you think ... Storm would hate me if I won?"

"Honestly?" Claire answered, cupping her boyfriend's face in her hands, "I think he'd hate you if you didn't give it your all. That's what I think. So you get out there and you give it your all and you make us all proud. No matter where you finish, I'm proud of you, Dade."

Marty Lee groaned as he walked past them again with the last of the bags, "Let's go, before I drown in sickly sweet syrup,"

"Marty Lee!" Claire laughed, shaking her head, "You better take good care of my man! You hear me?"

"What man?" Marty Lee asked, looking around as he walked around to the driver's side, "You have one of those?"

"Ignore him," Dade grinned, "Underneath it all, he really is a ... oh who am I kidding? He's an asshole through and through."

"Just be careful, be safe, and ..." Claire said, feeling a rush of anxiety as she realized Dade would soon be gone, " ... just hurry back, ok?"

Brad walked out to say goodbye, giving Marty Lee a nod of acknowledgement. Dade gave Brad a quick hug, patting his back. He never thought he would, but he trusted Brad to take care of things in his absence.

"Take care of her, alright?" Dade asked, patting Brad's cheek before he frowned, "Just don't 'take care' of her, understand?"

Brad burst into laughter and shook his head, "Fear not, I'm converting to homosexuality."

Dade gave Brad one of his trademark eyebrows, "I'm not going to ask. Just make sure to call me if you have any problems."

He turned to Claire and surprised her with a deep, passionate kiss. Marty Lee rolled his eyes while Brad smiled a little. Dade wrapped his arms around Claire's now sizeable waist and savoured her lips before he finally broke the kiss, gasping.

"Take care of our baby," He smiled, giving her another quick kiss before he hopped into the car, "I love you, Claire."

Claire nodded, her eyes stinging with tears as she smiled and gave him a small wave. She wanted to return his words but she was afraid if she did, she'd end up crying even more than she was already. She blamed it of course on her pregnancy and the assault on her hormones.

"Good luck, Dade," Brad smiled, before he took a deep breath, sobering a little, "I hope it's a good ... experience."

"What?" Dade asked, shaking his head in confusion before he laughed and shrugged, "Sure, ok."

"Enough of this sappy fecal conversation," Marty Lee said as he started up the car, "Don't die while we're gone. Goodbye."

And with that heartfelt comment, Brad and Claire were left on the driveway as Marty Lee and Dade drove out. A few waves later and they were gone. Claire headed inside, looking rather miserable. Brad followed her in, frowning with worry. He'd never quite been in this situation before.

"Would you like something to eat, Claire?" Brad asked, "A drink perhaps?"

"No. I think I'll just lie down a bit," Claire said, giving Brad a small appreciative smile, "Thank you."

Brad watched as she walked upstairs. Hopefully the days would pass quickly for Claire and Dade would be home soon. He made his way down to the basement gym and figured now would be a good time to do some weight training.

Since learning Josh was going to let him try out for a spot, Brad had worked himself daily to increase his fitness and improve his physique. He knew this spot was his. It wasn't cockiness, it was merely fact. His natural ability at football was amongst the best Merlow High had ever had. He didn't become Vice Captain for being an average player.

Part of what fueled him now was his anger. His anger at Josh. He was still furious at Josh for hitting him, and for holding him back for so long. What right did Josh have to try to run his life?

"I'll show you, Josh," Brad said, gritting his teeth as picked up a set of barbells, "My time has come, Baby. My time has come." Josh sat in his car, waiting outside Billy's school to pick him up. His mother couldn't make the trip today so had asked Josh to drive out to pick Billy up for the weekend. Billy greeted Josh with a wide, bright smile, which served to improve Josh's mood considerably.

* * * * * * *

This week had been terrible for Josh. Things had gone so terribly between him and Brad. And when things seemed at their lowest, Josh managed to ruin things even more by punching the person he was supposed to care most about. How could he have done that?

All his attempts to make things right with Brad had fallen on deaf ears, and perhaps rightfully so. Perhaps Brad was better off without Josh. All Josh had done was confuse Brad and send him back to being the school outcast once more. Unlike the last time Brad was the school outcast, this time he had a core group of friends who kept watch over him. Carl, Dade, and in his own way Marty Lee, were all making sure that no one tried anything with Brad. Josh had tried to undo the damage he'd done to Brad's reputation but it was mostly useless. Stacey Peters had already sent word through her shallow grapevine to make Brad's life hell.

With the popularity power vacuum left by Sarah's departure, and then Claire's pregnancy, Stacey had ascended and become the Queen of Merlow High. She used this popularity to reap misery upon anyone she saw fit. Brad was now at the top of her hit list. And it was all Josh's doing.

"Good afternoon, Josh," Billy smiled as he hopped into the car after placing his suitcase in the trunk, "It is so good to see you."

Josh smiled at Billy, "It's good to see you too, Billy. How was your week?"

"It was wonderful. Much better than last week," Billy said as Josh began their drive home, "I don't feel as behind as the others. I have been working daily to study in the subjects I feel I am lacking in. I expect to see a marked improvement quite soon."

Josh chuckled softly, turning to glance at Billy. Billy had an exuberant vibe to him that made him almost indistinguishable to the Billy who first moved into the Barrett home. Clean cut, tidy, polite, and surprisingly articulate. These were just some of the differences Josh had noticed in Billy.

"Billy, that sounds great," Josh smiled proudly, "Do you make time for fun though? Are you playing any sports?"

"I am playing badminton and tennis. I was considering playing football, but I am not certain I would be very good at it. They are all very good here," Billy said, "And much larger than myself."

"It's not about how big you are. If you want some help, I can teach you a few things this weekend."

"Will Brad be coming over this weekend?" Billy asked, "Or will he be busy again?"

"You'll see him," Josh said certainly.

Josh didn't know if Brad would come over this weekend, but he knew he'd make sure Billy got to see his brother. Josh didn't want Billy to lose touch with his own family. Not even with Jeremiah.

"Do you know they call me William here?" Billy smiled, blushing a little, "The last person to ever call me that was my ... my mother."

"Which do you prefer?"

"Well, Billy is awfully informal. I do suppose I should have to change it eventually and have people call me William."

"Only if you want to, Billy," Josh said, rubbing the top of Billy's head playfully, "You don't have to change a thing. We like you just the way you are."

"You do?" Billy asked with a wide smile.

"Of course we do."

"That is wonderful, Josh," Billy smiled sincerely, rubbing his knees awkwardly, "I do appreciate everything you have all done for me. I don't think my life would have the opportunities it does now if it were not for your family."

Josh covered Billy's hand with his own and squeezed it, "That doesn't mean you have to change into something you think we'll like more. As long as you're happy and comfortable and doing your best, we're happy with you. Alright?"

"Thank you, Josh," Billy said sincerely, eyes tingling just a little, "Thank you."

He may have screwed things up with one Sisto, but Josh would do his best to make sure that didn't happen with Billy. He was quickly becoming the little brother he never had. Yet still he couldn't but let his thoughts stray to Brad and his mood quickly darkened again. This changed when he realized Billy was still telling him about his week. Billy's enthusiastic mood was infectious.

"Anytime, Billy," Josh smiled, feeling much better now, "Anytime." "Wow, Dudes, this is really something," Lucas said as they walked into the Midlands Arena where the Nationals were being held.

* * * * * * *

There were literally thousands of people in and around the building. Lucas thought the regionals at the Merlow SuperDome were huge, but they were paled by the scope of this event. He, Dade, and Marty Lee had all left their hotel early this morning so that Dade could check out some of the lower grade tournaments and fit in one more training session before his tournament began.

"By the end of today, I could be a national champion," Dade gasped, as though suddenly the realization of this event began to sink in.

"And now he gets it," Marty Lee droned, shaking his head, "As your humble manager for this occasion, let me advise you that now would be a good time for us to get you signed and weighed in officially."

"Let's get that out of the way now then," Dade said, starting to feel a little nervous finally.

The three made their way down to the signing in area so Dade could register his presence and weigh himself in. He took off his shoes and socks, before removing his shirt and pants. He stood in only his boxers, which caught a few wolf whistles from passers by. Ever the exhibitionist, Dade grinned and lapped up the attention, causing Marty Lee to roll his eyes accordingly.

"Dude, you're so hot," Lucas laughed.

Dade finished the weigh in process and the three made their way into the changing rooms. Now the pressure was beginning to sink in for Dade. Could he really do this?

"Shit, I was hoping I'd go this tournament without realizing how fucking big of a deal it is," Dade frowned as he packed his gear into the appointed locker, "Now I feel like I'm going to piss my pants any moment."

"Dude, just relax and take a deep breath," Lucas said, giving Dade's shoulders a quick massage, "Should've brought Josh. He's the best at massages."

"I think the massage I need is a quick wank to relieve this pressure," Dade laughed, shaking his head, "Thanks, Lucas."

"You want us to leave you alone for a minute or two?"

"What makes you think I don't need more time?" Dade asked, chuckling and doing his best to act affronted.

Marty Lee was reading through some of the documents he'd received after signing Dade in, completely oblivious to the childish banter going on between the other two. He let out a curse which got the other's attention. He raised his head to them and scowled.

"They forgot to give me the draw. Look, we still have a bit of time, so why don't you two head up to the arena and watch some of the other matches. I'll meet you up top. We can come back down before showtime," Marty Lee said, standing up, "Ok?"

Dade nodded, closing his eyes to try and make himself relax, "I'm so fucking nervous."

"Don't be," Marty Lee said, grabbing Dade's shoulders and staring right in his eyes, "I've researched every fighter out there today. On your best day you can beat all of them. We've trained for this. We've brought your best game with us. You can do this, Marcus. The first two rounds are textbook. Only in the third and fourth rounds will you start coming up against some competition. Sven, the guy Storm beat a few years back in the Regionals, he's the guy you have to watch out for today. But your brother beat him and so can you."

"What about the wildcards?"

"None of them will make it past the first round. They're all d-listers," Marty Lee said, "Now suck it up and get your game face on. Alright?"

"Alright," Dade nodded, taking a deep breath.

"I'll see you two up top in a few moments," Marty Lee said before he left the changing rooms.

Lucas waited for Dade to pack the last of his gear into the locker before they headed up to the arena. They made their way through the crowd toward the center seats, overlooking the main arena. Preparation for the Under 21 Nationals was now underway, with what many considered 'filler' matches now taking place. Dade would normally not qualify to compete in the Under 21s Open grade, but his win at the Regionals had qualified him. However, he would be going up against people who were much older than him and no doubt more experienced and stronger.

"Hold me. I think I'm going to throw up," Dade chuckled and cringed at once, playfully biting the back of Lucas's shoulder, "What the hell was I thinking by coming here!?"

"Dude, suck it up," Lucas said, patting Dade's head and smiling, "You'll do fine alright. Let's just watch a few of the wildcard matches before you have to go down and start getting ready for your first fight."

"You're right," Dade said, nodding and watching from over Lucas's shoulder.

These were the matches that would preclude the first major round of the tournament, for which Dade had already qualified. He wasn't particularly impressed by what he saw, which made him hopeful for his own chances that day. Marty Lee had done a stellar job of researching everyone entered into the tournament today and providing Dade with strategies for all of them.

"That was pretty lame," Dade said, "That first wildcard won't last the first round."

"Totally, Dude," Lucas said in agreement, "They shouldn't even have wildcards. It's not like they're real champions or anything. They just get in through the back door."

"They still need approval from the national committee," Dade said, shrugging, "I don't really mind. Whoever is good enough to be here should be here."

They stood watching, studying the next few matches. Slowly Dade pushed his nerves aside and began strategizing in his head how he would approach any of these wildcard entrants. He didn't know which would become his first opponent, so it made sense to simply study all of them.

"I wonder where Marty Lee is," Dade asked curiously, turning aroundto see if he could spot Marty Lee in the crowd.

"Maybe he got lost, Dude," Lucas said, frowning a bit, "I hope he finds us soon."

"Ladies and gentlemen, our last wildcard round is about to take place. All competitors for the Under 21s Open Nationals, please prepare for your matches."

"I guess we'd better head down there, Dude," Lucas said, turning to leave before something caught his attention and his eyes went wide with disbelief.

"Lucas?" Dade asked curiously, catching Lucas's look.

"Dade!" Marty Lee called out, gasping for breath as he rushed to them with the draw in his hand, "You ... you have to ... see ... see this ..."

"Hey, just catch your breath," Dade said quickly, catching Marty Lee.

"You don't ..." Marty Lee said, breathless as he held the piece of paper up to Dade, " ... understand. The ... the ... wildcard ... changed ... draw ..."

"And his opponent, our last wildcard entrant, representing himself ..." the announce spoke, just as Dade read the wildcard draw and his eyes grew as wide as Lucas's, "Daniel 'Storm' Marcus!"


On to Chapter 5.06b
"The Bitter Taste of Being"

Back to Chapter 5.04
"We Can't Go Back"

Chapter Index

Storm Front is © 1998-2011 by SF Writer (Tyrel "Rock" Wolf)
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