Chapter 66

“You’re back.”

“I am.”

“That Avalon boy finally let you out of his palace on the hill?”

Black-stained lips curled down into a frown. “He doesn’t control me. He loves me. Helps me. Helped me get away from you.”

“The fact that you think you’re in love after only a week tells me all I need to know, Amelia Dallon.” Carol’s stoic face shifted, a condescending shadow of disappointment, frustration, and the barest hints of pity wracking her visage.

A wave of disgust flooded Amy’s veins.

“Don’t call me that name. And don’t speak about crap you don’t know anything about.”

You could practically cut the tension with a knife.

Amy stood in the doorway to the dining room, filled with so many conflicting emotions that she didn’t really know which one to shove away first. It was one thing to see Vicky, the girl who used to be her best friend, biggest confidant, and unfortunate crush. That flinty obsidian shell around her heart had been strong enough to dampen and negate the wistfulness that seeing, and talking to, her again had managed to dig up.

But those same defenses felt like paper mache when used as a shield between the pure breadth of anger that blossomed in her chest when she laid eyes on Carol Dallon. She knew that raw anger wasn’t the way this meeting was supposed to go. Stamping her feet and screaming until she was red in the face would ruin the entire point, which was to be seen and taken seriously as an adult. This was for closure, and for closure, she needed to have an actual talk.

So Amy exhaled softly, and finally acknowledged the other females in the room.

“Hey Aunt Sarah, Crystal,” she waved, the movement only slightly awkward in the tense atmosphere.

Crystal smiled at her from the dining room table, a slim gray laptop propped open and forgotten in front of her, while Sarah - wearing an apron that said ‘Blondes Do It Best’ - threw a dish towel down on the counter and quickly walked around the island. Her brows were pinched, an open expression of relief on her face as she made a bee-line straight for Amy.

Carol watched from the head of the table, a disapproving frown marring her red lips.

“Amy, sweetheart, I’m so happy you’re alright! I don’t blame you for not calling, not with everything that had happened, but a text…?” Sarah reached out to take hold of Amy’s arms, but hesitated.

She didn’t know how to respond.

Maybe it was the resentment talking, but Amy wanted to frost her out the way she did Vicky, if only to curtail the potential of her heart beating the ice and wanting to stay connected. It didn’t help that Sarah had been the one to push for Carol to take her in when she was a child, which meant that, by proxy, she’d been a major catalyst to all of this bullshit in the first place… but that wouldn’t have been fair. 

Sarah had treated her like a beloved niece, just as well as she’d treated Victoria. She would take them out for ice cream, drop them off at the mall, let them hide out at the Pelham residence to avoid chores and Carol’s watchful eye. Sometimes she would even take them horse-back riding out of town, though recent years saw those instances dwindling more and more. 

She had been the epitome of a loving, cool Aunt, and Crystal had been a good friend. Amy wasn’t as close to her as her cousin was to Vicky, but that hadn’t been because of any lack of effort on Crystal’s part. Looking back on it, Amy could see that she’d been a bit of a cold bitch. Taking her depression and frustration out on people that ultimately only wanted to be there for and support her. 

Like with Victoria just now, in the doorway. 

Her stomach fell.

She shouldn’t cut ties with New Wave, or the Pelhams, or the Dallons.

She needed to cut ties with the woman who’d never intended to love or care for her in the first place.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been getting your texts, but I’ve been really busy this past week, working on… everything. I didn’t want to reach out to, or honestly hear from, anyone.” 

Old habits nearly had Amy withdrawing back in on herself, shying away from the contact, but that wasn’t who she wanted to be anymore. She was tired of being scared, and tired of letting other people control her life. 

When she reached forward and firmly grasped her hands around Sarah’s, it was because she wanted to do it.

The overwhelming happiness in the taller woman’s sparkling blue eyes made the effort worth it.

Surprisingly, she shook her head. There was a complicated purse to her lips, despite the obvious joy Amy’s words brought her. “You don’t get to apologize to me young lady, not after everything that happened. I should be the one apologizing to you. I just didn’t- … No, there’s no excuses. I’ve been ignorant, ignoring things like I have for too long.”

“Sarah-“ Carol leaned forward in her chair, tension thick in her voice.

She scowled. “Not right now, little sister. We’ve already had this discussion days ago, but judging by how you’re behaving already, I don’t think any of my words actually stuck with you.” Sarah turned her head slowly to regard Carol, the ferocity in her heated glare disturbing on the usually laidback woman’s face. 

There was a beat of silence. Amy could see Victoria sidle into the room from the corner of her eye, awkwardly drawing to a stop near the living room couch.

In the background, Blue’s Clues was playing silently on the TV.

“This is my house, sister. You’re arguably the leader of New Wave, yes, but you’re not the leader of my homestead. You can watch your mouth!” 

“This falling out wasn’t just an interpersonal family matter; it was an insult and attack against a former member of New Wave, my organization that I have built from the ground up.” 

Sarah gently let go of Amy’s hands, squaring her slim shoulders and fully turning around to address Carol, who’d pushed her chair back to stand up as well. “If we have to have this talk again in order for you to realize that you need to woman up and apologize, then I’d be happy to take this outside of your ‘homestead’. It wouldn’t bother me any.”

Carol’s face flushed red with indignation.

“Mom.” Crystal groaned, closing her laptop shut. She hadn’t even glanced at the screen once. “Just… stop, both of you. For one freaking minute. Amy just got here, and-“

But she might as well have been talking to a brick wall.

“You’ve got some damn nerve,” Carol spat, equal amounts anger and hurt flashing over her pinched face. She leaned her fists over the dining table, punctuating her words with a sharp rap of knuckle against polished wood. “It’s easy, isn’t it Sarah? To be so well put-together and happy with your apple pie life and perfect family? To stand there and judge when you're the one who pawned the decision off on me in the first place!”

“She was a baby, Carol! An innocent baby-“

“And she was also his daughter!”

Dimly, Amy became aware of just how hard she was clenching her fists. Her newly painted black nails tore cuts into her palms, the bite of pain accompanied by thin rivulets of blood, but she couldn’t find it in her cold, numb chest to care. She wouldn’t speak up even if she could, and she couldn’t right now.

As much as it hurt, as much as it burned… These were real emotions. Real opinions. And in a way, they helped to finalize things in her mind. 

They could scream at each other all they wanted to, airing out their demons like the source of their grief wasn’t standing in the doorway looking in. She needed to hear.

“Do you know how it feels? Hm?” The woman she once thought of a step-mother asked rhetorically, her wide, flinty blue eyes locked with Sarah’s. She sounded near manic, her volume raising as she vented. “Do you know how it feels to raise and take care of the flesh and blood of a man like Marquis, who looks more and more like him every single day? To know that you’re incapable of even liking her, nevertheless loving her, and knowing how horrible of a mother you are because of it?! It fucking hurts, Sarah, and you damn well forced me into this lose-lose prison cell of a decision because you decided to get knocked up twice before getting a stable job, you preachy, high-horsed, sanctimonious bi-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Several pairs of eyes turned to Amy, as if just now realizing the darkly dressed girl was still in the dining room.

The cold numbness had been picked away and set alight by Carol’s words, and all that was left was a burning need to set things straight, no matter what it took.

She couldn’t bear to see the woman’s face anymore.

“Amy…” The ‘mother’ in question began, shame and guilt darkening her previously furious features. “I-“

“Shhh. It’s my turn to speak.”

I got the talking stick.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh right now, light up a spliff, or just turn Carol’s face into hamburger meat. Maybe all three at once. Amy’s thoughts were in chaos, so many things she dreamed of fantasized of saying tickling the front of her brain, but none of them seemed fitting now that she was actually living out the scenario in reality. It all felt so… juvenile, now.

So she went with her gut. Her boyfriend would be proud.

“Aunt Sarah,” Amy began, inwardly shocked at how level her voice was. “I’m leaving New Wave. Permanently. And I’m joining Invictus.”

And Jason, and Cassie, and all the others who make me feel wanted.

Finally saying it out loud to all of them was like a healing balm on a part of her soul she had no clue was damaged.

Sarah didn’t look even the slightest bit surprised. There was a bitter disappointment, of course, and a frustrated anger, but absolutely none that was directed at Amy. If anything, a good portion of it seemed directed at herself. She breathed shakily, turning fully away from Carol in order to give her niece a pained, yet genuine smile. “Of course, Amy. I… won’t try to change your mind. You can make your own decisions.”

Silence, neither comfortable or uncomfortable, stretched between them. There was a tense stillness in the air, of things still left unsaid, and even Carol didn’t seem keen on being the one to break it. Amy allowed, for the first time since coming back, a small, wry smile to form in her lips.

“And… I forgive you.”

Her aunt’s glossy eyes widened in shock. “I-“

“I hate that you pushed for Carol to take me in, despite how unfit she was to raise me. And I hate that you didn’t sweep me away from here years ago, when the shininess faded and I realized that I was an unwanted stranger living in a loveless household. I hate that you all made these decisions for me, and I was left to just suck it up…” 

Amy felt the prickling of tears stab at her eyes, her voice growing gruff and hoarse as her throat tried to close up, but she refused to let the weakness show. Not yet, and not here. She knew that her transformation was far from complete, and that changing her looks was hardly the end-all be-all to a lifetime of suck, but for now, the dark mascara and fishnet sleeves helped fill her with the confidence needed to let out what she needed to let out.

To be a girlboss, as Cassie would’ve put it.

“But at the end of the day,” she continued, her black-shrouded eyes flickering to a pale-faced Carol. “You’re not the woman who raised me. She is. And at the end of the day, she’s the one I’m cutting out of my life. You, Carol, are the one who made this home feel like my prison. The value of family is weighed by their fucking powers and usefulness to you, and you’ve proven that time and time again. You’re a great lawyer, and a great gaslighter, but you’re a shit mother, and I’m… I’m done.”

Amy exhaled gently, feeling that tightness in her stomach - the same tightness that had been there ever since she’d stepped into this accursed house - slowly began to ease up. “I’ve been done for a week, but I guess I needed to come here and tell you to your face in order to fully move on and be happy.”

Carol’s pale face became splotchy with anger and embarrassment. 

“Don’t you dare even try that angle. I love my family. I’ve always loved my family, no matter how ‘shit’ of a mother you think I am!” she hissed, stalking around the kitchen table to glower down her nose at Amy. 

They were closer in height now that she was wearing heels, and rather than fear, Amy felt nothing but derision as she met her former adoptive mother’s glare with her own. Before, she would’ve felt intimidated no matter the size difference, her own lack of confidence and fear of her powers making her hesitant to use them against someone with authority over her.

That was Amy Dallon. This Amy found herself almost hoping to see that telltale golden glow shroud Carol’s hands, just so she’d have an excuse to give the bitch super-herpes.

She wasn’t sure what was funnier - the thought of Carol with cold sores, or the fact that she even dared to lie to Amy’s face about loving her family, when Amy was the one with the power to decode entire genome sequences. Given the fact that she was intimately aware of Vicky’s body from countless little healing touches and cosmetic tweaks, and, by proxy, had to deal with a horrible, burning secret ever since she’d gotten her powers…

‘I’ve always loved my family’ was the biggest lie a cheater like Carol could say in this situation.

Unbidden, the thought forced a snicker to escape her before she could stifle it. Amy tilted her head, her wry smile bleeding into a small, bemused smirk. “Are you sure about that?”

The subsequent paling of Carol’s face, and the way she staggered back as if slapped, was visceral enough of a reaction for Amy to know that what she’d seen all those years ago, and every year up until recently, was not, in fact, her powers playing tricks on her or otherwise fucking up. Disgust flooded her body, overpowering even the smoldering flame of anger in her chest.

“I-” Carol swallowed, trying to recover before anyone noticed her rather flagrant response. When she drew herself back up to her full height, it was with a spiteful, guilt-laden anger that only idiots would mistake as righteous fury. “I am. Don’t think you can just waltz in here and start forming rifts, Amy. If you’re quitting New Wave and wiping your hands of your only family, all for a damned murderer with a pretty smile, then block our numbers and leave-”

“... Mom.”

Vicky slowly walked forward, the reddening of her eyes proof that she’d been crying at some point between walking back inside and Amy's confrontation with Sarah and Carol. She wiped at her cheek with a stubborn swipe of the back of her hand, a suspicious glare cutting unerringly into Carol’s shifty blue eyes. “We’re not just ignoring what just happened. What the hell was that? What are you hiding from us?!”

Her mother shifted her gaze, a disgruntled frown pulling at her lips. “Not now, Victoria.”

“I actually think this is probably the best time,” Crystal piped up, leaning back in her seat and crossing her legs, one over the other. 

Sarah said nothing, but the fact that she’d taken her apron off and now had her shoes on was evidence enough that she wasn’t planning on staying in Carol’s ‘homestead’ for any longer than was necessary. If anything, her glare was even heavier than Vicky’s.

Carol turned her head left and right, taking in all of the faces looking at her with varying levels of suspicion, scorn, and in Amy’s case, outright disgust. For a moment, as she stared at everyone, her misplaced mask of anger faded away, replaced by a helpless and soul-shattering guilt that even a baby could read. Her mouth opened, her lips flapping, but no words - no explanation or apology - came out. Her face turned red with strain, and her eyes drifted past their heads, over to the door…

And then she stopped, a cold frigidity frosting over her expression. “... All of you, out. Out of my house. Now.”

Vicky scowled. “Mom, that’s not-”

“And you,” she viciously cut her daughter off, pointed a shaking finger at her. “You don’t get to question me. To-to vilify me, when I was the one who raised you. The one who carried you for nine damn months, went through the pain of childbirth for you! I thought out of everyone, you’d take my side. Your mother’s side-”

“This isn’t about sides, mom!” Vicky argued loudly, damn near pleading, as she floated closer. “You’re clearly lying about something big, and you’re- mom, you’re in the freaking wrong here. I trust Amy. I love Amy. And if you can’t respect her enough to, at the very least, apologize and admi-”

“Go to your room, Victoria Dallon.”

“What? No, I’m talking to you as an adu-”

“GO!”

At the sudden scream, Vicky nearly jumped out of her skin. Her face paled, eyes turning misty as she stared at her glaring mother like she had no idea who she was anymore. “No,” she swallowed, her voice croaky with audible hurt, “I’m leaving with Aunt Sarah. You- …Figure out what you want to do, mom. I don’t know what sort of skeletons you have in your closet, but…”

She shook her head and drifted closer to the others. Crystal had already grabbed her laptop bag and was leaning against the doorway to the dining room, and Sarah was right behind Amy, one hand on her shoulder. 

“Figure it out. Please. Because if you don’t… You’re going to end up losing two daughters instead of one.”

When Vicky’s hand sought out Amy’s, in a desperate plea for some type of comfort and support-

The witch interlocked their fingers together, palms firm against one another, and led the way out of the hellhole that was the Dallon Residence.

She didn’t look back.

…

…

“So… you’re staying with Aunt Sarah? For how long?”

A few minutes after being kicked out of Carol’s home, Amy found herself leaning her folded arms against the backdoor of Sarah’s SUV, watching through the open window as Vicky carefully applied black eyeliner to the swollen skin around her red-rimmed eyes. Despite the absolute mess she’d left behind, she felt freer than she’d ever felt in fucking years, knowing that, no matter what happened, Carol was now just a disgusting blip in the drudges of her memories.

She hadn’t needed to cut ties with her actual family, either. Sarah, Crystal, and Vicky - they were all here, too, and none of them blamed her, or hated her.

She felt like she could breathe.

“I dunno,” Vicky sighed shakily, clicking her small makeup mirror closed. Forcing a smile on her lips, the blonde bombshell turned fully in her seat, giving Amy a clear view of her pallid, tear-streaked face. “How do I look? And if you say anything other than perfect, I’m deducting sister points. Extra, even.”

“You look like poop.” Amy snorted, before offering her a dry smirk. “Golden poop, admittedly. As unfair as it sounds, I don’t think you can look like complete crap… but you could use some rest.”

She glanced over to where Sarah was arguing in hushed voices with Carol, at the doorway. Crystal stood behind her, arms crossed and a bored furrow to her brow. “We all can. Listen, I’m sorry for bringing all of this drama-”

A finger pressed itself against her lips, smearing her makeup. Amy glared, but Vicky only shushed her again - vocally this time. “Shhh. Nope, nada, not hearing it at all. Mom’s been fucking insufferable since you’ve been gone. Honestly, this probably would’ve happened sooner or later, with or without you being here. You should’ve seen the fight when Aunt Sarah found out what happened. She actually slapped her.”

The picture that brought up in Amy’s mind was an amusing one. In an actual cape fight, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Aunt Sarah would wipe the floor with Carol, but picturing her resorting to something as mundane as a ‘slap’ to drive a point home was funny.

Still, that didn’t help the vestiges of guilt pooling in her stomach. “... That’s not the only thing, Vic. About what Carol’s hiding… it’s-”

“Don’t tell me.”

Amy blinked, giving her sister a confused glare. “What? Why?”

“Because,” Vicky frowned, setting her jaw stubbornly, “I want mom to tell me herself. I’m assuming it has something to do with our immediate family, considering how defensive she got and how guilty you are. That’s pretty freaking bad. But… if she can’t tell me herself, then that lets me know that I need to move on. Maybe get an apartment closer to Uni. I don’t know.”

A bitter smile overtook the frown, and she shrugged. “All I know is that how she talked about you and Aunt Sarah in there, and over the past week, is her first two strikes. If I have to get the truth from you instead of her… then that’s the third, and I’m done. Completely. I might already be…”

A tense, yet comfortable silence stretched between the two of them as they mulled over those heavy words. Amy understood the logic, but for an overthinker like her, holding out faith for that long without knowing would’ve been nigh impossible. On a more selfish note, it allowed her to avoid having to break the news that Mark was not, in fact, her father.

But it still rubbed her the wrong way.

“Fine,” Amy breathed, staring down at her sister with lidded, bemused eyes. “I should get going, then. Overdrive’s going to be here to pick me up soon, and she’s way too loud for Captain’s Hill. I’d rather not be trespassed and have the neighbors call the cops on me.”

Vicky’s mouth fell open, awed. “Oh, that’s the badass chick who pulped Alabaster, isn’t it?! Flew through the air in her truck and BAM, right in the front grill. Sick.” 

“… Yes. It’s worrying that that’s what you remember her by.”

She shrugged, fiddling with her phone’s bedazzled pop socket. “You'd be surprised. Invictus is a hot commodity right now, sis. You guys have a fucking dragon on top of that fuck-off mountain Avalon raised. I don’t know if, like, ignoring how crazy all of that is is your way of normalizing your life right now, but… It’s insane. Your life’s insane.”

If there was a note of bitter envy in her amazed voice, neither sister wanted to ruin their chaotic reunion by bringing it up. Amy chuckled, her heart feeling warm and full now that she thought about all of the crazy shit that surrounded her these days. Maybe it was her way of coping with such change, but the likes of a dragon truly wasn’t even that crazy to her anymore. 

Snowcone was just… Snowcone. Despite the fact that he knocked her out and gave her the world’s worst migraine when she first met him.

Her boyfriend was a mage, her girlfriend was a techno-sorceress, Amy herself was a fucking witch, and magic was real.

When looking at it from that perspective, wasn’t it fucking silly that she’d really let someone as boring and unseasoned as Carol Dallon fuck up her mental?

“I guess you’re right,” Amy giggled, shaking her head. “I love them. All of them.”

“I know.”

Vicky smiled, this one as happy as it was pained. “You’ve grown a lot, Ames. Even in a week. It’s… it’s like you’re blooming, finally, after years and years of being held back. I don’t just mean the makeover, either. It’s everything. The way you smile, or frown, or giggle- you’re fucking giggling, Amy! You’re actually happy now, and I’m so fucking proud of you.”

It felt different, actually hearing these words from someone she loved as much as Victoria. Amy could feel herself begin to tear up, but-

“I don’t want to ruin my makeup before I get home, Vic, please.”

“Oh! Ummm, wait, here- fan it, fan it, do not wipe. Crystal’s coming back, she has sponges-“

In the end, once Sarah and Crystal returned and said their goodbyes, Amy did, in fact, end up ruining her mascara…

But Sherrel helped her reapply, after gushing for five whole  minutes over her new appearance.

Loaded up in the Death Machine, stuck in the passenger seat with a big titty blonde singing Country music at the top of her lungs, Amy found herself riding back to the place she actually considered home.

Right between Jason and Cass, and all the other crazy motherfuckers that made up Invictus.

[hr]

Aisha slowly paced the outer circle of the arena, her sharp eyes darkened by an anger that had long since cooled into a cold fury. Opposite her, moving counter to her clockwise, was the source of all of her annoyance today, and a large portion of it every other fucking day for the past several months.

Brian Laborn.

Cassie had done a number on him, clearly. There wasn't much wear and tear in his leather ensemble, but the sorceress wasn’t one to deal in physical weapons, like Masamune - nah, Aisha could tell by his stiff, jerky, uncomfortable gait that she’d hit him with a Frost spell or two. A Sparks as well, but that had been one she’d seen for herself once she’d gotten tired of fucking with the blonde bitch.

Maybe she should’ve felt for him a little bit, what with him being her brother and all. Sparks was like being hit with a dozen tasers at once, at the same time, on the nipples, and it wasn’t something your average person could just shrug off. But just as she may have started to feel even the thinnest shred of empathy…

She heard his voice, deep and annoying, ignoring everything she’d done. Everything she accomplished. 

Brian Laborn. The Boy-Who-Knew-Best.

And that cold fury resurfaced.

“We don’t have to do this, Aisha.” Even limping and wounded, his body language showed utmost confidence in beating her. Brian spat blood on the floor as he paced, bloodied teeth set in a disgruntled grimace. “I don’t know what they’re paying you, or what Avalon’s promised. That sword, maybe. Or power, like he gave his girlfriend. But-“

“Shove the white knight bullshit up your ass and around the corner, bro,” Aisha cringed, clenching her fists. “I tried to talk, but you don’t listen. Next move is breaking your jaw so you can’t mansplain over me!”

In a manner so much like him that it was infuriating, Brian smacked his lips and shook his head, as if disappointed.

Disappointed. In her. For wanting to be her own fucking person.

Fuck. That.

There was no point in talking if she was just going to be ignored or treated like a child. Aisha crouched, reached for that lingering vestige of raw energy lurking in her gut, and dashed. Time seemed to almost slow down in her perception as her platform boots slapped against the marble floor, and she could see Brian’s face morph into one of naked surprise before the Masamune’s lingering effect began to fade, and she took full advantage of her sneaky little cheat to score a lightning-quick sucker punch.

BOOM!

Her Oakflesh fractured and burst as her fist slammed against her brother’s broad chest with the sound of a gunshot. Even with the added protection of the Alteration Magic, Aisha felt her wrist bone jerk back inside of her flesh, nearly pulling itself out of its socket. A glistening wad of saliva and bile exploded from Brian’s gaping mouth a second before his body went flying a full fifteen feet across the circle, his boots tracking black skid marks against the marble floor.

Aisha exhaled, cradling her pulsing fist with one shaking hand.

“Can’t talk right now, can you!?” She shouted, whatever pain she felt in her knuckles completely overshadowed by the cold, biting frustration in her heart. “Can’t look down your nose at me now? Can’t ignore me? ‘Cause I’m standing right fucking here, Brian! There’s no fucking excuse anymore.”

He’d kept his footing despite how far back he’d skidded on the heels of his feet. The massive teenager was hunched over, his teeth gritting hard enough for it to sound out in the otherwise silent Dojo. At her words, at her shouting, his head shot up, angry brown eyes almost feral from pain and frustration.

“I- I…” he coughed, grimacing as phlegm shot up his throat and covered the floor in front of him.

Aisha stalked forward, both fists now clenched at her sides. “Save it-“

Brian snarled, forcing himself upright. “I did everything to keep you safe, Aisha! To get you away from that fucking woman. I- Damn it, I saved thousands. I’ve been fucking shot at. I became a criminal, worked for a supervillain, stared killers in the face…“

“I never asked you to do that-“

“You didn’t have to!” He exploded, throwing his hands up in frustration. “‘Cause that’s what a big brother does. A protector. A fucking provider. You run from shelters, you ditch school,  you run from Celia, you run from me, y-you run from dad- You’re fucking fourteen, Aisha, and you run from every little thing that ticks you off, in a city filled with monsters, not giving a single shit!”

His face darkened, eyes growing wide and emotionless. “And look where that got you. Playing kiddie ninja with a fucking perv-“

This time, when her fist slammed into Brian’s jaw, it wasn’t with a crazy anime sound-effect. His head turned from the hit, his mouth clacking together violently, but that was his only reaction before the much larger boy grunted and reached out to grab hold of her. Aisha was slippery, though, and faster on her feet than him - especially with all of his injuries. She ducked beneath his grasping hands, twisting on her heels and snapping a sharp side-kick right at the family jewels. 

“GAHHH-“

He wasn’t wearing a cup. Somehow, in her anger, Aisha felt like it was somewhat poetic.

“You’re fucking weird,” she hissed, spitting the words out like a poison. “Jay isn’t a pervert. He’s never touched me, wouldn’t touch me even if I fucking wanted him to!”

He moved faster all of a sudden, anger greasing his movements, and Aisha had to backtrack on her heels to avoid a heavy-handed jab that - while not at full strength - would’ve rattled her brain inside of her skull like peanuts. Brian was huffing and puffing, clearly giving up on talking in order to conserve his flagging stamina, but Aisha wasn’t done.

She needed to get through to her thick-headed brother.

“He has two beautiful girlfriends-“ She slipped around a clumsy bear-hug attempt and slammed her elbow into his fractured rib cage, slipping away from his counter-sweep, “And a ‘concubine’, whatever the fuck that is. Jason’s a pervert, but only for them.”

“…”

Another jab, two of them, but they were slower now. Muscle memory from kickboxing practice with her dad kicked in, and Aisha responded with quick, warding lashes of her feet. She hadn’t trained much, never had the attention span, but she knew enough.

Brian groaned when her steel-toe shook his right shin bone, nearly falling to his knee.

“And he’s a really good fucking leader!”

They were getting too close to the circle now, which meant a ring-out. Aisha wasn’t even focused on the silent audience, nor was she even taking this battle as a spar as much as it had become a challenge, but she rolled beneath Brian’s unsteady legs and smacked him on the back of the head as she came up, rupturing one of his cornrows.

When he turned around, the kinky fro standing up in the back, she nearly lost her focus and laughed.

He grunted, but his face- was that a smirk? Or a trick of the light?

For some reason, seeing that washed away the lingering remains of righteous fury in her soul. Aisha hesitated, her fists falling to her side. Wistful melancholy replaced anger, and she smiled bitterly. “And… and he’s just really cool. And nice to me. He listens, actually listens, and takes me seriously. They all do.”

Brian, poor bloodied, limping, black and blue Brian… he paused, looked down at his own clenched fists, and dropped them. He seemed... resigned, and more than a little annoyed, but whether it was at himself or her was anyone's guess. Maybe a little bit of both?

“… Are you happy with them?”

The sound of his gruff, raspy voice, after minutes of bestial grunts and groans of pain and anger, nearly made Aisha jump at its unexpectedness. Instead, she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, only now vividly aware of the stares - and new arrivals - coming from the entrance of the dojo. 

Sherrel loudly, and crudely, asked what was happening, only to get shushed by what sounded like Amy.

Why the fuck did such a benign thing make her tear up? Stupid fucking women, stupid fucking periods, stupid fucking-

“Y-yes…”

She was not crying!

Through the blurriness that had to be early onset blindness and not anything else, Aisha saw her brother’s battered face soften. He stared up at the ceiling, sighed, and looked back down at her with a small, wry smile.  “And Celia?”

“She-“ Her voice cracked, and Aisha cleared her throat, surreptitiously wiping her eyes with the back of her swollen right hand. “Jay healed her. She’s clean, has been for weeks. We do drug tests every Friday. She’s gotten a raise at Fugly Bob’s, and a promotion. Shit pay, but the economy’s shit I guess. But she’s doing better and we’re thinking about getting a cat-“

Brian’s cool expression fractured. For a second, she thought that she was going crazy, because there was no way her hardass brother was actually tearing up right now. “Aisha, I’m… I’m sorry.”

Aisha snickered, but it was wet and ugly. The relief that filled her body, combined with the dumping of adrenaline, nearly knocked her on her ass.

“I-I’m sorry too. Jerk.”

She didn’t know who initiated the hug. It could’ve been Brian, it could’ve been her… Hell, it could have been Jason forcing them to reconcile with Illusion Magic, and everything that just happened was all just fake.

Regardless, Aisha found herself smiling as she wrapped her arms around her big brother’s fucked up ribcage and squeezed.

“Ow. Ass.”

Sniff.

“… Brie, why the fuck do you smell like piss?”

And, in the background, loud, raucous laughter suddenly filled the air.

Pigs must’ve been flying outside though, because, above her, Brian’s own grandpa-like chuckles joined in.

_____________________________________

A/N:

Yo! Sorry for the late upload homies, but I… was sitting on this chapter, stewing, for days. I could NOT figure out how best to get it done, and recently, I decided that I was overthinking it. I wanted the Aisha scene to be this big, huge fight between brother and sister… but Brian isn’t like that. He isn’t… evil? He isn’t horrible. He’s just overprotective. And stubborn.

And Aisha loves him. He loves her. She just had to get through to him. So sorry if that portion’s short, but I wanted it to be compact and hard-hitting. I didn’t wanna drag it out.

Let me know what you think about both portions, please!