My name is Daniel Phelan Marcus. Some people call me Storm. It's been a long time since I heard someone call me that. A long time since I considered myself that person.

So much has changed and yet in one instant, I feel it all coming back to me. In one instant when I stand here on the mat, competing for the dream I thought I'd lost. The dream to be the best I could ever be. To stand apart from the rest. To prove that I am as good as I believe I could be. As good as she believed I could be.

For the last few months since leaving behind the chance at a new life with the best blonde I've ever known, I have stripped away the baggage of my old life. I have replaced it with focus and determination. Determination to succeed and thrive and prove I am still alive. Prove that my life did not end the day my brother destroyed what I believed was rightfully mine. Did not end the day I stopped believing in true love and destiny. Did not end the day my greatest inspiration was taken from this world.

I wasn't good enough to win that day and Dade deserved everything he received. Today, I deserve everything. I have done everything in my power to get myself here so that I can stand here and be someone. Stand here and show them all that I did not fade away quietly into the night. That I still stand as strong as I knew I always could.

Yet beyond my shallow need to stand before their eyes and be counted as the one who stood without them, I have a need to show myself that I am strong. And so I stand here. And so I fight here. The bell rings and fate beckons. The bell rings and I realize that after all these years, after the forsaken life I've led since she left me has loosened its grip, I have arrived. The bell rings and I feel alive. The bell rings.

My name is Daniel Phelan Marcus. But today, for just one more day at least, I am Storm.

* * * * * * *

"This isn't happening." Dade whispered as he stared dumbly down toward the center mat where his brother was currently fighting for his right to enter this tournament as a wildcard entrant.

Marty Lee could barely hide his smirk as he looked down at Storm. Sure, the two of them didn't exactly part on the best of terms, but as always, Marty Lee had a great deal of respect for Storm. For some reason this wasn't so much a surprise as an affirmation of his own beliefs. This was fitting. It was right. It seemed fate that Storm would somehow find a way, beyond all reasonable assumption, and fight in the nationals.

"That's our Storm." Marty Lee grinned broadly, "Put your game face on, Dade, you're about to get an ass whooping."

"Hey, you're supposed to be on my side!" Dade said, clenching the railings as he finally accustomed himself to the fact that his long estranged brother was indeed before him.

"You beat him once. You can beat him again." Marty Lee said to Dade, "Just with a bigger audience and for a much bigger prize."

By now no one seemed to realize that Lucas hadn't said a word. He was too busy staring down at the mat, his eyes locked on Storm. Marty Lee turned to Lucas and realized how perhaps awkward this might be for him.

"Storm." Lucas said softly, eyes vacant, "It's ... Storm."

"Fuck the tournament, I'm going to see my brother." Dade said suddenly, turning to make a quick exit.

Marty Lee stopped Dade before he could get away. He had enough sense to know this wasn't the time for warm family reunions. Especially when said reunions were unlikely to happen.

"Are we forgetting something, Dade?" Marty Lee asked bluntly.

"Who cares?" Dade said, trying unsuccessfully to pull his arm free, "It's history now. It doesn't matter. It's not important."

"It is to him." Marty Lee said, nodding down toward Storm, "He didn't find a way here for nothing."

"I don't care!" Dade snapped angrily, "You think I fucking care about some stupid tournament now that my brother's back? I learned my lesson, alright? I don't fucking care about this stupid tournament. I care about my brother. Now if you'll kindly back the fuck off I'm going to go and see him. He'll forgive me. He has to. It's his job. That's what Storm does."

There was an air of desperation, perhaps need, in Dade's voice. He wasn't as certain as he would like to have been. All he did know is that he wanted to be there when Storm got off the mat. He had to make things right. Nothing else mattered.

Marty Lee, sensing Dade's intent, let him go. He watched as Dade pushed his way through the crowd, before he turned to see how Lucas was doing. Much to his surprise, Lucas was also gone.

"Well, wonderful." Marty Lee said dryly, "This is going to be a splendid day, I can just tell already."

* * * * * * *

"Strawberry lips!" I yelled, laughing as I ran through the Sheridan house.

Lucas, acting with particular mischief, had decided it was a good idea to put make up on me while I slept. He felt it was fitting for me to have strawberry lips and thus decorated me with hot strawberry lipstick. Suffice it to say, when I woke up to find him staring down at me with a camera, I knew something was up. Still, nothing prepared me for what I saw reflected in the mirror. As much I as respect the fairer sex, I do not envision myself as someone who should be made to look like one.

When I finally caught Lucas after chasing him through the house, I tackled him to the ground and pinned him. He couldn't move because I had my forearm against his neck. I grinned down at him, smirking smugly.

"And here I thought you were the girl in this relationship." I snickered.

"Clearly not, Sweetheart." Lucas grinned back, making no effort to break free, "Isn't this spousal abuse or something?"

"Spousal abuse is what'll happen in a few minutes when I show you who the girl is in this relationship."

"Promise?" Lucas asked with a broad grin.

I leaned down, smiling as I pressed my lips softly against his while slowly easing my forearm from his neck. A chaste peck and I raised my head again, staring down at him. He sighed contently, just reveling in this tender moment.

"If you don't mind me saying." Lucas said, stroking my cheek, "You do make an awfully pretty girl. And you're moody like one too."

"That's it, your ass is mine!" I laughed, leaning down to kiss him once more, smearing my lipstick over his lips, "Oh God, I feel like such a dork with this shit on my face."

"Yeah but you're my dork, so it's ok." Lucas replied softly between kisses, "Forever and ever and ever and you know, a really long time."

"You're so gay." I grinned, nuzzling my nose against his, "I love you."

"I love you too, Baby. I love you too."

The memory of that seemingly innocuous moment floated through my mind. It distracts me, so I push it away. I push it out of my mind. I try not to give it the power to influence how I perform in this match. I knew it would be hard. I knew being here today with them would hit me, despite how hard I worked, trained, and tried to push them out. Yet here I am, moments into my first match and the first sensation of knowing Lucas is in the upper deck has left me struggling to focus.

I can't let it happen again. I won't. I have to focus. I have to push them out. I can't care, because that's when the hurt comes back. I don't want it to come back. I've worked so hard to get rid of it, to deal with it at least. I have to focus. So I focus. I focus on the person before me; my opponent. The person who stands between me and victory. Victory in ways that are bigger than a title, bigger than winning a match or declaring myself the best open graded fighter in the nation.

I stalk my opponent slowly, keeping our eyes locked and my stance deceptively open. I gauge his every step, his every gesture, the very rise and fall of his chest. In my mind I have already won. If I do not believe that, then I have already lost.

He comes at me, left foot kicking off the ground as he launches into an elevated roundhouse. With authority, I step in and use his own momentum against him. I grab his right foot in mid air and slam my elbow into the back of his knee. Before he reaches the ground I have hand sprung over him and my fist smashes into his sternum.

I stand over him, my face impassive and devoid of any emotion. The bell rings and I've won this match. I'm into the tournament. The last obstacle has been overcome.

I raise my eyes and scan the crowd, searching for them. Searching for the ones I knew would be here today.

Where is he? Where is Dade? I know he's here. I can feel it. I want to see him now. I want to look into his eyes and show him; I'm still alive. I'm still standing.

They aren't where I expect them to be. Neither Dade or Lucas. Instead, I am greeted with the cool stare of Marty Lee. It's been so long since I've seen him, that I have to do a double take at first to realize it's him. He stares down at me from the upper decks, and for a moment we share a glance of respect.

I move off the mat, not realizing until I'm off it and turn back, that I've walked right past Dade. The crowd is sufficient enough that he didn't see me, but I can already tell he was seeking me out. I take a moment to look at him, for the first time in a long while. He looks different. He looks so different. So much older.

It looks as though he's grown up, mentally. The change in him isn't so much physical as it is in how he seems to carry himself. I can't be sure of what exactly has caused this change in him, but I can hazard a few guesses.

As much as I would love to have a bitter family reunion, I now have a tournament to win. If he's still here at the end of the day, then perhaps. Perhaps we'll talk. I won't hold my breath, but perhaps. For now, I simply turn and leave without being noticed. For now.

* * * * * * *

"Did you talk to him?" Lucas asked Dade when he finally found him sitting in one of the foyers.

"He was already off the mat." Dade sighed, "By the time I got to the mat, he was gone. Then I just kinda ... I don't know, came to my senses and realized I probably shouldn't try to talk to him until after the tournament."

"I thought the same thing, Dude." Lucas agreed, frowning softly, "I wanted to see him. I don't know why. I don't know what I expected to get out of it. Then I realized the same thing you did. That it just wasn't fair to him. I could throw him off his game plan for today, you know?"

"I know." Dade nodded, "Same reason I decided against it. If he ... if he wants to talk before it's over, I'm here. Otherwise, I'll leave him be."

"And then afterward?"

"Afterward? I'm going to find him and talk to him." Dade said, taking a deep breath, "It's more important to me now than this tournament."

"And now?" Lucas asked, taking a deep breath as he pondered what he would do.

"I don't know." Dade shrugged, "I really don't know. I mean, I just found my brother. Do I even want to fight in this tournament anymore?"

"Dude, it's the nationals. Of course you want to fight."

"I suppose." Dade sighed, standing to his feet, "It just seems trivial now, you know?"

"It isn't to him." Lucas pointed out, "I think you owe it to yourself to get out there and do your best. If you meet him again, you'll fight again and the best man will win."

Dade held his hand out to Lucas, "You're right. My best. I gotta give it my best."

Helping Lucas to his feet, Dade nodded slowly. In all truth, his drive to fight in this tournament has been tentative at best. His falling out with Storm had long shattered any misguided desire he had to be number one. He knew Lucas was right though, and that he owed it to himself and everyone else, even Storm, to fight his hardest. So that is exactly what he would do.

* * * * * * *

"Winner! Advancing to the second round of competition, representing Takada Kai Dojo, Dade Marcus!"

Dade bowed to his opponent and then the match official, before he turned and walked off the mat. He was inwardly pleased with his performance, taking a great deal of confidence from it. He moved off to the side of the centre mats, but did not leave for the changing rooms. He wanted to see his brother fight.

"He looks fresh. He looks determined." Marty Lee said, announcing his presence as he gave Dade a stiff shoulder massage from behind.

Marty Lee pulled Dade's gi off and started working him over. He had to keep his charge limber for his next fight. Dade barely moved, his eyes still fixed on Storm as he stepped onto his fighting mat. He had an intensity that Dade recognized. Nothing else mattered to Storm, Dade knew this. He could see right now that Storm was blocking out every other distraction, of which Dade was no doubt one.

"Pay attention." Marty Lee said as he worked, "If you want to win today, you'll have to go through him, I'm sure. He's adjusted his primary stance. He's using a lower centre of gravity. Take note, Dade."

Dade groaned, and not just because Marty Lee's stiff massage was loosening him up quite nicely. He knew Marty Lee was right. He knew he'd have to fight Storm again today. He knew their rematch could have a very different outcome. He knew he might have to defeat his brother yet again. However, this time their fight would be honorable. He'd shamed himself enough with his past actions and he wouldn't repeat them again now.

Dade wasn't sure if he should be cheering Storm or secretly hoping he would lose. In the end, his face seemed devoid of emotion but when Storm scored his first point, Dade let out an audible cheer of satisfaction. He wanted Storm to win his match. He got what he wanted.

"Winner! Advancing to the second round, Daniel Marcus!"

Finally, a moment Dade sought since discovering Storm was a wildcard entrant; his eyes locked with Storm's. For the first time in months, he and his brother looked each other in the eyes. Though there were many people around them, it hardly mattered.

Dade's heart raced and he contemplated making a rush through the crowd to Storm. Now that they'd acknowledged one another's presence, perhaps they could finally talk. Surely this was the opening he'd been waiting for.

It was not to be. Storm merely nodded in acknowledgement, barely seeming affected by Dade's presence. The indifference was unbearable for Dade. He closed his eyes shut and bit back an anguished gasp.

Opening his eyes, Dade found Storm had left the mat. He was on the verge of tears. Surely, even angry, Storm was supposed to come over to him, be the forgiving older brother and then start a conversation that would eventually speed a reconciliation?

"I'm sorry, Dade." Marty Lee said softly, as if sensing Dade's somber mood.

"No." Dade said, shaking his head, frustrated, "Let's make him sor…" He sighed, "Let's just get on with it. I'll talk to him when the tournament is over whether he likes it or not. Then he can be angry all he wants, as long as he bloody gets over it afterward."

"I see." Marty Lee said, "Afterward."

"Afterward."

* * * * * * *

"Two more rounds, Dade! Two more rounds and you're in the final match!" Marty Lee said, pumping Dade up for his next match.

Dade was moving through his kata sets, oblivious to anything else except Marty Lee's voice. It was ironic that after all this time, they were working together. Both were focused on their objective; winning the title. Dade's emotional turmoil was gone. He wanted to win. He wanted to face Storm again and beat him, but this time honourably. He'd beat Storm fair and square. They'd still talk afterward, but until afterward came, they were competitors. They were enemies.

"I want this title." Dade growled, stopping his actions to stare at Marty Lee, "I want to win."

"Good, because nobody will win this if they don't want it badly enough. Get out there, Dade. Get out there and show them you deserve to be here."

Dade turned to walk out of the changing rooms toward the center mat, "I do deserve to be here."

* * * * * * *

Lucas watched the current set of matches from the upper deck. Both Storm and Dade were competing in the current round. Both had made it this far. He felt as though he was at the regionals all over again.

"Interesting development, yes?" Marty Lee said in his abstract tone, stepping up behind Lucas.

Lucas turned and glanced at Marty Lee before he turned his attention down over the railing to the centre mat match. He wasn't really sure whether he should speak to Storm and how much right he had to do so in the first place. Yet he couldn't help the turning sensation in his stomach that told him he had to talk to Storm.

"Nothing's changed, has it?" Lucas asked Marty Lee, "They're still the same."

Marty Lee moved up beside Lucas, staring down at the centre mat, "Mmm. I think so."

"Great. Just another disaster in the long demise of the Marcus family." Lucas sighed dejectedly.

"No. Today is different."

Lucas didn't seem to understand what Marty Lee meant. Why was today any different? The two brothers wanted the same thing, and were prepared to once more come to blows for it. He cursed in mild anger.

"God, this is really what June would've wanted, isn't it?" Lucas asked bitterly, "Great way to fucking honour her memory, Dude."

"I didn't know her." Marty Lee shrugged, "But from what I hear, I doubt this is what she'd want either, is it?"

"It isn't. It really isn't."

'Winner! Advancing to the quarter finals - Daniel Marcus!'

Marty Lee couldn't help the smirk on his face. It was all some kind of karmic retribution. He loved a good 'come from behind' story, and this was one of those in every sense of the word. Storm had essentially been down for the count the last time Marty Lee saw him at the Regionals. Losing his title, his boyfriend, and having the last fragment of his family shatter. Marty Lee would not have been surprised if Storm simply disappeared out of his life forever. And yet here he was; coming from behind like a bat out of hell.

Marty Lee turned his attention to Dade's match. Only one match staved off the pair having a rematch in the semi-finals. Dade was doing his best to give his opponent a quick exit, but this was not some simple tournament. The best in the country were here to fight and win. Despite Dade's skill and champion status, he would not be walking over any opponents today.

'Winner! Advancing to the quarter finals - Dade Marcus!'

But he would be defeating them. The prospect of a Marcus brother rematch loomed ever closer. Marty Lee could feel his stomach turning a little in anticipation. If indeed both brothers made it through the quarter finals, this was sure to be a showstopper.

* * * * * * *

"Come on, Lucas. You know I don't believe in that gay shit." I chuckled as Lucas and I lay in the treehouse.

We're both far too old for it, I know, but I just can't tear myself away from the place. It'll always be special as far as I'm concerned. It's also very handy for those times when me and my gorgeous boyfriend need some 'quality time'. Very high quality, I might add. Very high quality.

"That gay shit?" Lucas said, taking a deep breath as he lay draped over my sweaty chest, "Uhh Dude, we're kinda into gay shit."

"Yeah but not that eternal love gay shit. I prefer the anal sex and Lucas loving type of gay shit, ok?" I chuckled softly, pulling him up for a quick strawberry fix.

I let the kiss linger for a little, deepening it and letting my hands roam up his bare back. We'd just finished making love, and I use that term wholeheartedly because we rarely just have 'sex'. It's always special for us. I'm not sure Lucas can do just 'sex'. He can do playful, sometimes a little kinky and rough, but he prefers the sweet, gentle kind of lovemaking. I don't have issue with that because he's quite easy to love.

It isn't hard to coax either of us into another round of lovemaking. We're young and ever horny, after all, but neither of us seems to be in a rush. Just kissing him and feeling his weight upon me is often enough. Especially when we're both naked. Goodness, what I would give to just live in these moments.

"What's wrong with that eternal love shit?" Lucas asked, whispering against my lips as he broke our gentle kiss, "I kinda like it, you know."

"Yeah, but ... I mean ... come on. We're young. It's a little naïve to say things like that these days, isn't it? Relationships hardly last the distance anymore."

"Is that what you believe will happen with us?" Lucas asked, resting his chin on my collarbone so he could kiss my neck as we talked.

"Of course not." I replied softly, "Though ... I suppose ... I mean, realistically speaking, I suppose there's always a chance we might not last the distance."

"God, you're such an optimist, Dude." Lucas said, rolling his eyes, "Planning on leaving me, are we?"

"Nah." I grinned, "Who would suck my dick if I left you?"

"Storm!" Lucas gasped, bursting into laughter, "Dude, don't be so crude!"

I grinned cheekily, pulling him up again for a sweet kiss, "I promise, I won't leave you."

"Ever ever?" Lucas asked between kisses.

"Ever ever." I replied, smiling up at him.

"Good. Let's move onto the gay shit then." He grinned mischievously, "Who's on top?"

"Such a stupid question, Sheridan." I grinned, kissing him heatedly, about to answer, "M…"

"Hey, you. You're up in five." The coordinator said, shaking me from my reverie.

I opened my eyes and realized I'd closed them for a bit longer than I should have. It had been a grueling day. I felt sore, exhausted, and emotionally drained. I'd prepared myself for this day for so long, and now it was finally here, I wondered how prepared I really was.

Moments before my next match and I'm sitting in the changing rooms thinking of anything but fighting. I didn't think he'd be here. I didn't think I'd have to face him of all people. Lucas Sheridan. What the hell is he doing here anyway?

I stood up and started loosening my muscles up, moving over to a massage bed so I could get a quick work over before my fight. My stomach was turning. I usually handle my nerves quite well when it comes to fights, but there is so much on the line here for me. The Nationals is where I've always wanted to be. It's as though all my life's ambitions led me to this point and now I'm finally here, it's a surreal feeling.

Even more than that is the fact that Dade and Lucas are here. Ties to a past I'd left behind. If I win this, if I succeed, then what comes next? No more hate, no more anger, no more resentment. Everything would be over. What would I do? Would I start anew and walk away for good?

There is so much more at stake here today than I could possibly realize. Yet the more I think about it, the more I wonder if I'm really doing what I should be, the more I feel like I just want to go home and curl into Lucas's arms. Does this make me weaker? I don't know. I think it just makes me human.

* * * * * * *

Dade sat on a patch of grass in one of the roof courtyards of the large stadium. He had an hour before his next match. He wanted to take the time out to relax and refocus himself. He took in a deep breath of fresh air, closing his eyes and trying to centre his thoughts. He didn't hear the approach of someone behind him, but he felt their presence when they sat before him.

"Storm won his match." Marty Lee said, staring curiously at Dade.

Dade nodded, taking a deep breath as he absorbed this news. He knew the implications. Provided Dade won his next match, the two would showdown in the semi finals.

"I understand." Dade said softly, closing his eyes, "I understand."

Marty Lee stared at Dade, still finding it amusing that they were here now, given their history. Looking at Dade now, sitting shirtless and barefoot in meditation, he couldn't help but admire the physical beauty he possessed. He'd always found Dade to be tempting, but he knew there was little chance of anything happening between them. At least nothing more than what had already taken place between them.

"You're ... very …" Marty Lee said to himself, not really sure how to articulate the next word.

"I know." Dade replied, opening his eyes and staring at Marty Lee, "Marty Lee, you need to get laid. And I'm not offering. I'm with Claire now."

Marty Lee winced inside at the words Dade spoke. He rarely put himself out like this. He hated to be seen as needy or desperate. Few people could read him, and it was becoming apparent that Dade was now one of those few people.

"You're not straight." Marty Lee pointed out, "You play both sides. Could you ever really be satisfied with one or the other?"

"I'm with Claire. My dick quite likes her, thank you very much." Dade said, no condemnation in his voice, "You need to get laid. Seriously. I'm happy. I'm doing right by her. I'm doing right. Don't ... don't tempt me into doing bad. We have history, you and I, and most of it is bad, but it doesn't have to stay that way. You're here being my manager today. You're doing right by me here today ... so try doing right by me after it as well, please? Keep me doing right, and I'll keep you from being the spawn of Satan."

"Careful, Marcus. I might think you want to be friends." Marty Lee chuckled softly.

"Let's not be silly now." Dade smirked.

Marty Lee smirked a little in response, "You're right, let's not."

"Now let me find my Zen in peace." Dade teased, "I'll be down in the changing rooms soon enough so you can molest me in the guise of a massage."

"Look forward to it." Marty Lee chuckled, standing to his feet, "For what it's worth, I hope you do your best out there."

Dade nodded somberly, "I'll do my best. I just hope it's good enough."

* * * * * * *

I am in the unique situation now of waiting and watching a fight take place. Most of the day I have busied myself with my own preparations. I have largely ignored the hype of the tournament and any potential opponents I might face. Until now.

"Introducing our first competitor, representing Takada Kai D…" The announcer began to say, introducing Dade.

I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride when he stepped forward. I want him to win. Deep down, I still love him like a brother. I still feel the big brotherly urge to cheer him on and root for him.

I remain stoic, watching on unseen from the sidelines. Dade seems confident, assured, and at peace. He isn't the same Dade who faced me at the Regionals. The same Dade who took victory at all costs and beat me.

"He's changed, Storm." Marty Lee said, surprising me when he emerged beside me.

We were both buried amongst the crowd of onlookers, even from our privileged area at ringside. This afforded me a certain level of discreteness so as not to distract Dade should he see me during his match. However, I didn't expect to come into contact with Marty Lee. Only he would have the balls to come and speak to me right now.

"We all change, Marty Lee." I reply softly, keeping my eyes focused on the match between Dade and his opponent.

"Do you know?" Marty Lee asked curiously, though he said nothing more.

I turned and looked at him, trying to figure out what he was referring to. When he looked at me and then glanced at Dade, I knew immediately. I hesitated for a moment, gauging whether or not to answer him. Do I lie? Or do I tell the truth and reveal something he might otherwise be unaware of.

"I know." I sighed, closing my eyes in resignation and nodding, "I know everything that goes on under my roof."

"Figures." Marty Lee smirked at me, "A control freak like you never really lets go unless he really wants to. I don't think you ever really wanted to. You're still very much aware, aren't you?"

"You and I still have a score to settle, Marty Lee." I said, reminding him I was very much aware of his past indiscretions, "I intend to collect today."

Marty Lee's face drained of color. He was perhaps a little unprepared for this development. I turned to face him, my arms crossed. My face was stern and glare steely.

"Walk with me." I said bluntly, "Now."

I made my way out of the crowd, only to hear an emergency time out being called on Dade's match. A small delay due to his opponent's corner requesting it. Perhaps Dade would win his match by forfeit. I hoped not.

When Marty Lee and I reached the exit passage leading to the changing rooms, I stopped and suddenly thrust my palm at his neck. In three swift blows I had him up against the wall with my hand squeezing sharply on his throat.

"You set Lucas up. You set him up. You practically handed those assholes my jeep. You're the reason it was stolen. You're the reason Sarah could've almost been fucking raped that night." I said as I smacked in the face hard and grabbed his throat again, "Thank God she wasn't there. Thank God he wasn't there."

"I know." Marty Lee gasped, coughing but otherwise doing little to fight back except to prevent me from crushing his throat, "I know. I changed. I ... argh ... you're choking me."

I let him go, turning away and closing my eyes before I turned around and smacked my fist into Marty Lee's jaw. I grabbed his arm and dragged him along the passageway, kicking him in the torso sharply every so often. I wasn't so much angry at him as I wanted him to know he couldn't do what he did and not suffer any consequences.

"What you did to Brad was old news, but still …" I yanked his wrist back painfully, though not enough to snap it as he had Brad's, " ... fucking crazy. But the thing I really can't let go? Do you know what that is, Marty Lee?"

"Dade." Marty Lee gasped, a resignation in his voice.

"You fucking raped my brother!" I screamed, stomping Marty Lee into a corner as he cried out, but still barely fought back. "You put your filthy fucking hands on my brother! You sick fucking cunt!"

Even when Marty Lee groaned and actually cried, slumping in the corner of the changing rooms, I barely relented. No matter what shit Dade and I had now, I couldn't help but hate Marty Lee for what he'd done to Dade in the past. All this time, I never realized how much Dade needed me and how this freak used that and abused him for it.

"He was mine for a week." Marty Lee gasped, his face bloody, "It's tradition."

"What you did to him wasn't tradition. He was already fucked up, and you fucked him up even more!" I cried, tears in my eyes, "Any sooner. Any sooner had I found out, I would've fucking killed you, Marty Lee. I would've fucking killed with my own fucking hands. Nobody fucks with my family! Nobody fucking touches my family!"

"Except you?" Marty Lee cried, holding his ribs and fighting back tears, "Fucking hypocrite, Storm! What are you doing now!? I made things right with Dade, and he's fucking trying to sort his shit out. He didn't just run away like you did! Call me what you want, but you're no fucking better!"

"And that's the damn truth." I agreed, spitting on him, "I ain't no fucking better."

Marty Lee pulled himself up into a sitting position, gasping for breath and wheezing a little. He looked up at me, pitiful tears escaping him as he sobbed. I wish he was just an asshole, so I wouldn't feel anything but hatred for what he'd done. But it suddenly dawned on me then that everyone else had forgiven him, except me. Brad, Lucas, Dade, they'd all forgiven him. Why? Because he'd changed.

"You hurt my baby brother." I cried, tears of guilt streaming down my face, "You fucking ruined him. I know you did. It all fucking fits. He was so low and you fucking pounced on him like some fucking predator. You're sick, Marty Lee. You're fucking sick."

"Yeah, and what's your excuse?" Marty Lee countered, wiping his anguished eyes, "You fucking walk away, walk away, walk away! You run, run, run, run! You're a fucking coward, Storm!"

"Hey, fucknut, I didn't run away." I said, shoving him back into the corner with my bare foot, "I moved on. Learn the difference."

"I stayed. I faced up to everything. But you ran. You ran. You think winning today means fuck all?" Marty Lee gasped, "You think it's going to make you feel better? It won't bring your mother back. It won't make you feel better than Dade. It won't fucking fix you. You're broken, Storm. You're fucking broken."

"Watch this space." I snapped back at him, "I'll show you how fucking broken I am."


On to Chapter 5.07c
"Untitled"

Back to Chapter 5.05a
"Rise Forgotten, Your Time Has Come"

Chapter Index

Storm Front is © 1998-2011 by SF Writer (Tyrel "Rock" Wolf)
    This work may not be duplicated in any form – physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise – without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

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