Something Given

[Roach Copeland]

DISCLAIMER: This story contain some rather graphic descriptions of child abuse and harsh language. Secondly, the story does contain spoilers concerning some of Roach's past. Some of you have mentioned you enjoy the many lies he gives out, so for those who want to keep guessing, I would skip this story.

The house smelled like fish. No, worse than fish. It smelled like tuna

It smelled of tuna that had come out of the can for the sole purpose of being left out in the sun. It had that nauseating aroma that some how moved past your nose and entered the back of your throat causing your gag reflexes to kick in. Or it did for Tommy, at least.

The apartment he lived in was small. One room. Not enough beds. Not enough space. Not enough room to play or to hide when Gary got drunk or angry or drunk and angry. It was a meager place where meager people were left, and even at the young age of four, Tommy knew this.

Tommy knew a lot of things. Like tonight. He knew Gary was angry again. He came home angry, yelled at Tommy over his blocks being in the way, and then went about making dinner angrily. And then he tossed the food to the table and turned on the television.

The usual night.

Tommy sat across the table staring down at the sandwich Gary had put in front of him. It was tuna. It was always tuna. Gary had said it was because he got a deal on it for working at the docks but Tommy never believed that. Gary never had a problem eating tuna. He liked it. He shoved handfuls of the stuff into his mouth, chewing loudly and spitting out bits of it when he wanted to scold Tommy for something.

Tommy looked up and found Gary doing the first two of those things. The man didn’t even hold back. Two sandwiches in his hands, foot propped on top of the table, Gary watched the television with that same tension Tommy never saw leave his face. The glow of the television illuminated the man’s balding head as his hand scratched lazily at the beer gut he had been working on for quite sometime.

Tommy looked down at the sandwich and wrinkled his nose. He knew what would happen if he didn’t eat it. He knew what would happen if he complained. He knew Gary was already angry about something at work. He knew Gary was still angry about Caroline. He knew Gary was still angry at him for being around and messing ‘it’ all up.

But Tommy really didn’t like tuna.

So he pushed the plate away from him and looked down at his shoes.

“The hell is your problem, kid?” Gary’s voice sounded causing Tommy to wince. He rubbed his hands together nervously before looking up at the man. Gary stared back at him, that cold stare already working its way through Tommy’s courage, dwindling it down to nothing but fear.

“I... I don’t feel good,” he mumbled before looking back down.

“Eat the sandwich, kid. We already opened the can and we don’t need rats comin’ around here cause you got the shits,” Gary spoke again, the last bit being followed by a snort. “Little shit has the shits, hah.”

Tommy shot a glance up, his eyes narrowing at Gary.

Oh, he knew he was making a mistake but there was one thing Tommy hated more than tuna and its smell. Tommy hated Gary. He hated his snort. And the way he called him names. And how he treated Tommy. And how he had treated Caroline before Caroline didn’t come back to the apartment. Tommy, without a doubt, had hatred for Gary that gave him a false sense of protection.

Like the blanket he had before Gary tossed it in the fire cause it made Tommy look ‘faggy’.

Regardless of knowing this, though, Tommy pushed the plate. Hard. It slid across the table and teetered at the edge. It tried to balance out for a second or two before just falling to the floor with a crash. A moment of silence followed it, and Tommy just returned his eyes back down to the floor.

“The fuck!” Gary roared as he launched himself out of his chair, easily closing the distance between the two. He grabbed Tommy by the arm, pulling him up from his seat. “You got a problem, kid? You wanna be the big man?”

“I hate you!” Tommy scream, his small fist trying desperately to strike pain into the ogre. Gary just swatted his arms away before lifting him higher from his seat. Tommy continued to fight though, kicking and biting. That was, of course, until Gary slapped him across the face and dropped him.

Tommy hit the floor, his face burning. Tears welled up in his eyes as he tried to push himself up. Right now was a time to run. Tommy knew this. Run and hide until Gary got drunk and fell asleep. He could escape and come back and clean up everything. Gary wouldn’t remember. He’d be safe.

A hand grabbed him by the back of the shirt, pulling him up. He let out a startled cry as he was twisted around, Gary’s eyes filled with rage.

“You think I need this, kid?” he screamed, Tommy closing his eyes as the man’s breath assaulted his nose. “You think I need a little shit botherin’ me? What? You don’t like tuna?”

Tommy tried his best to remain still and not to whimper. Whimpering made Gary angry. Whimpering just made it worse. Gary didn’t like it when Caroline did it either.

“You think you got the right to choose what you can afford, huh?” Gary spat.

And then suddenly, something was in his mouth. Something was being forced into his mouth. Gary’s sandwich. Tuna. Moist, gross tuna. Being shoved deeper. Down his throat. No time to chew, no time to breathe. No time to cry or fight.

Choking.

Tommy was choking. His eyes bugged out as more and more of the sandwich was forced into his mouth. He grabbed Gary’s arm, scratching at it in some attempt to signal he couldn’t breath. Or maybe to apologize for being the problem. Anything to stop the assault. Anything to allow him to breathe again and get rid of that horrible, repugnant taste that came with tuna.

He threw up. The force of Gary pushing downward didn’t match the strength of his stomach pushing upward. Tommy spat out the sandwich, Gary cursing in surprise before dropping the boy.

Tommy remained on his knees, hacking, trying to breathe and having various degrees of success. The world around him was dark and his head pulsated with the beating of his own heart. And his mouth burned with that foil taste of sandwich, it mixing with the taste of bile which made something far worse than Tommy imagined was possible.

“You fuckin’ parasite! You- you god damned little -roach-!” He heard Gary scream. “You think food comes free? You think we got ‘nough of this shit to waste on you pukin’ it up?”

Tommy looked up just in time to see Gary grab the tuna can lid from the table. Time slowed down as he watched the lid raise and then fall down towards his face. His eyes opened wide, his hands being too slow to come up to shield the serrated edge.

---

“Roach?”

Roach blinked and looked across the ways towards Miss Wilson. She studied him from her chair, that tablet resting on her knees, pencil poised for note-taking.

“What was the question again?” he asked, leaning back in the seat.

“Do you have anything from your parents?” she asked, her head canting to the side as she watched his reaction.

Roach ran his thumb over the scar under his right eye. His thumb lingered there for a moment before he dropped his hand, a smile being offered to the councilor.

“Yeah. My dad gave me somethin’ once.”

[Roach Copeland]

Tommy watched silently as Caroline made her way through the apartment. She was bruised, he knew that, and he even knew that it was because of Gary. She had that nervous energy to her step, that shake in the hands as she grabbed various items from the shelves and shoved them into a duffel bag. She was scared, but beyond that, the last lingering threads of sanity had finally been plucked.

It was Tommy’s fault.

He didn’t understand what he did to make her fear him. He didn’t understand why she let Gary hit her so often either. He didn’t understand a lot of thing, like how she stopped watching cartoon with him when he started answering the questions she asked in her other voice. The silent voice. Or how she’d leave him for hours while she sat in her room, thinking of various things that didn’t make Tommy happy. He didn’t understand why she didn’t know he was unhappy. Or how she couldn’t understand how confusing this all was. How she never seemed to pay attention to him when he asked her stuff with his silent voice. Or how she would let him just sit and cry on the floor when he used his actual one.

He didn’t understand a lot but he understood that today was the day Caroline was going to leave.

Caroline pulled a book from the bookshelf and quickly ruffled through the pages before pulling out the money Gary never knew she kept. She hastily shoved it into her bra before turning back around, moving off to continue her search for those items she just couldn’t leave behind.

Jewelry Gary had gotten her before the drinking began.

The photos before the fear developed.

Her Niel Diamond records... well, what remained of them after Gary wanted to punish her for burning part of the kitchen counter.

Tommy pulled at the threads of his blanket, rubbing the soft fabric against his cheeks as he watched all this from the floor. He didn’t like all the questions that were going on in her head. He didn’t like those lingering doubts that were becoming his. Or the memory of the man hugging Caroline in a way that Gary would never like.

Caroline stopped at the door, Tommy hearing her as she went through the check list in her head. She had the money. She had written the note. She had grabbed everything that Eric had asked her too. She had grabbed everything important to her... funny, he didn’t make that list. She grabbed her keys, shouldered the duffel bag, and turned towards the door.

“Gary won’t be happy,” Tommy said as the door opened. Carolina froze as she heard the voice. That tension she had let build throughout the month rose up to her shoulders. She remained still for a half a minute before finally looking towards him.He just sat there with his blanket in hand, staring.

She forced a smile (not the smile she used to give him) before speaking. “Mommy just has to go do some errands, Tommy.”

“With Eric?”

That smile she had plastered on immediately fell. The hand gripping the door dug its nails into the wood and another visible shake ran its way through her arm before she dropped it to her side. The duffel bag fell to the floor before Caroline finally took a step towards Tommy. After a few feet, she stopped and crouched down to stare at him at eye level.

“Daddy and mommy are going to take a break,” she said carefully. She wet her lips with her tongue, her eyes darting towards the clock on the wall before looking back his way. “And daddy wants me to take a vacation for just a short time but you can’t tell him where mommy’s going. And mommy is going to really miss you, Tommy. She’s going to miss you so much.”

She smiled at him once more, and every part of Tommy wanted to take that smile, hold onto it so close, and just believe it. Just accept the words from her lips and convince himself that she was coming back. That this was just a vacation. That she was going to miss him.

But Tommy knew. She knew. She was never coming back. This was no vacation. She wanted to forget about him.

“You are never coming back...”

Her smile faltered, that terror gripping her face before she rose to her feet. He knew she wanted to lie again. Tell him that he was wrong, and it would only be a few days. He even knew she thought about telling him about the toy she was going to bring back for him. And how when she came back, everything was going to be fine.

But Caroline also knew that Tommy would know.

So, she just backed away from him, picked up her bag, and moved towards door without saying a word. Door opened. Door closed. And then footsteps that made their way down the stairs and towards the honking horn coming from the parking lot.

Tommy knew she felt regret because he felt it. Tommy knew she wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault because he wanted to tell himself that. Tommy knew that she wanted to say this wasn’t personal. That this was all just something she never signed on for, and she was sure her leaving would stop Gary from drinking. That all she needed was time away from all the chaos. From all the hitting and cursing and... and weirdness.

Tommy didn’t want to cry because Gary always got angry at that so he just hugged his blanket to his face, closed his eyes, and tried to find Caroline’s other voice. The one that used to think of all the things he could become, and showed him love and affection that were beyond words. He just wanted one more whisper from her. One more thought. One more glimmer that she was still thinking of him.

But all Tommy got was relief. Relief she was escaping a monster.

At the age of four, Tommy knew that the monster at the end of this book wasn’t Gary and his alcohol. It wasn’t the Arachnos soldiers or the Mooks who demanded way too much protection money. It wasn’t any ghost. It wasn’t any villain.

Caroline was escaping a true monster. And she thought it was him.

-----------------

“So you don’t remember anything about your mother?” Miss Wilson’s voice asked.

Roach looked up from his hands, tossing the memory aside before pressing his lips together in a thin line. Finally, he snorted as he leaned further back into the couch of her office.

“Only that she left cause she didn’t like the monsters on Etoile,” Roach said without much of a care. He shrugged once more. “Other than that, she must have not made that much of an impact.”

[Roach Copeland]

Roach was tired of the running.

He was tired of all the gangs and violence and the hunger that seemed to follow him. When he could find food, he was tired of trying to ignore the taste. Ignoring his body response to throw it up and scrub his mouth out with something sweet that he couldn't afford. He was tired of his smell, he was tired of his clothing. In essence, Roach was just tired.

He had been tired for a long time. Ever since Gary died five years ago. He was five and had to learn how to live alone in Port Oakes. And, like the roach Gary called him, he survived. He had ran with other kids for awhile, had learned the art of the streets- and it was an artform. He had done things that he wish he could forget. He had memories of thing that weren't his he could never forget.

So, Roach was desperate. Which was why he had looked for her. His mother. Caroline.

She had left him. He knew that. He remembered that conscious choice she made. He knew what she thought of him. He knew alot but... he was desperate. He was hoping that maybe it was all Gary's fault. That Caroline just couldn't think cause of the abuse and drinking. Maybe she had tried coming back for him but Gary chased her off. Alot of things could of happened.

It took a year of digging but Roach had learned a thing or two on the streets. He learned that everyone leaves a trail. And for a psionic, a trail could be followed not only through the environment but through memories. He dug. He searched. And slowly but surely, he began finding hints.

Someone would remember her from a market. Someone would remember how beautiful she looked at a party. Someone would remember her as the broad that couldn't drive. And with that information, he found himself here. In Cap Au Diable.

The apartment building didn't look as new and shiney as some of the other places he saw. The streets weren't as clean. He noticed that cars drove a little quicker when in the neighborhood. It wasn't a bad place. He'd been in worse. He'd lived in worse. However, it was the poor area of the nice town.

He had thought about ringing the bell when he first got to the apartment but a part of him was scared what would come from the intercom. A scream? Cursing? Threats? Then he had thought about sneaking in when someone else entered but that still left the knocking. The explanation. The thought that he could hear her behind the door trying desperately to act like no one was home after peeking through the peekhole.

Same could come with ambushing her on her way out of the apartment. Or breaking in. Or slipping a note in her mailbox that told her to meet him at the street corner. Preferably with that cocoa she used to serve him.
So he decided to play it safe.

He climbed the fire escape. It was raining and it was cold but he could hear her. Sense her. And she had that old thought process. She felt loved and happy. She was complete because she had someone special. She knew he was coming home? Could she sense him near?

That increased his speed, his shivering limbs making climbing difficult. He heard her laugh from the window above him, felt her amusement. Her peace of mind.

And he was crying cause he secretly knew she always wanted to find him. She must have always tried to find him after she left. And now, she could sense him. She could hear him. Maybe she was like him? Maybe she didn't know but now did? His teeth chattered as he pulling himself up the ladder's steps, grabbed hold of the window sill, and pulling himself to the glass.

Caroline leaned forward on the couch. She was smiling and singing along to something on television. Cookie Monster? She aimed a remote control towards the television, turned up the volume, and leaned back.

Only to reveal the child next to her.

A girl in pigtails.

Happy.

Sipping cocoa that belonged to him.

Caroline picked up the girl, set her on her lap, and they both sang noisily to the song on the television. Roach just stood there outside the window, watching. He now wished he could feel the cold and the sting of the rain. It would have been better than the absolute numbness of it all.

Caroline had replaced him. And all the love that he used to feel from her wasn't his anymore. Had it ever been his?

He... wasn't angry. Or sad. Or anything. Just numb. And tired.

But he was no longer desperate.

He just sat there and watched Cookie Monster. He tried singing but it didn't seem like a song one should sing alone.

-------------------------------------------------------

"I never knew you had a sister," Ms. Wilson said as she scooted closer in her seat. Roach could hear her analysis of him. And judging by her reaction, he could tell she could hear his analysis of that. He hadn't wanted to come today but he had skipped last week. Two in a row would have caused an automatic meeting with Herrera.

"She isn't a sister," Roach spat, slumping deeper into the couch. She wasn't his sister. She was blood but he had learned along time ago that blood meant shit. "She was a replacement."

Ms. Wilson scribbled something in his note - Roach knew it was about exploring the sister topic later on- and then set her notepad aside. She waited for their eyes to lock before saying, "You just left?"

He smirked. Or tried too. He had never felt happy with how he had reacted. It never felt like he had punished her enough. It also felt that he went to far. His eyes flickered downward, his mind just accepting that Ms. Wilson was hearing this.

"I saw her Neil Diamond records on the wall. You know... they were really important for her to get before leavin'." Roach wrinkled his nose at that, arms crossing his arms over his chest. They had made it onto the list. Those records. "And I just... made them explode. Tightened them until they just snapped. All five of them. Shattered down ontop of Caroline and the kid."

He remembered how Caroline screamed, throwing herself ontop of the brat. How the kid had cried. How some Eric ran into the room with a towel wrapped around him, fist ready for a fight. And then he remembered Caroline looking at the window. Straight at him.

"She wanted Eric to get his gun," Roach finished. "Cause the monster found her."

Roach just remained silent there. Or tried to. His usual act was so much harder to do with the mindreading thing going on. He was sure that was the reason Ms. Wilson had wanted him to come. Speaking of which, he could hear her own thoughts.

What many people didn't get from her was Ms. Wilson had passion. Hidden behind those sweaters and dimples was a woman who probably had anger issues at one time. Who worked hard to control her emotions for the sake of her patiants. He knew how she felt about his story. His life. His attitude.

She hated his mother. She hated Gary. She hated Recluse. They all had made Roach a...

"I'm not a fuckin' victim," Roach said, hopping to his feet and surprising her.

"Roach, I didn't mean to-"

"I didn't need them. I'm better than them. I was stronger and survived," Roach shouted as his hand squeezed into a fist. The plate of cookies on the table flew and smashed into the wall.

"Roach! Please, I know this is-"

"I hate you! I hate you all! I'm stronger than this. I don't need this. Get out of my head. My thoughts. My secrets. Not yours. I don't need to open up and feel love and shit. You want to get rid of my rage? I love my rage," Roach held up another fist and the couch he had sat on slid loudly acrossed the floor a few feet. He turned back towards Ms. Wilson and pointed. "I am Roach. I am reviled. I am hunted. But I survive. Always. You can't hurt me. You can't kill me."

"Roach, no one here is trying-"

"You can't fix me," he shot back. He wanted out. Away from her and his emotions. He didn't like talking about this stuff. Not to her. Brook. He wanted Brook. He wanted to be in her isolation unit, falling to sleep to the soft hum of her vat's cooling system.

"I'm not broken," he shouted as he hopped over the couch and towards the door. He was through it before Ms. Wilson could even call his name. He ran down the hall, hopped down the steps, and was through the bunker's door within a minute.

He wasn't broken.

He wasn't weak.

He was Roach.

[Roach Copeland]

Westbrook Academy... Even the name sounds like an asshole.

Roach smirked at this as he made his way through the halls with Andrea Watkins. Or as he preferred to call her, 'The Tank'. His usual attire of Etoile gear had been forcefully removed and replaced with a white shirt that he had already stained with mustard and a tie that The Tank borrowed from her husband.

Roach hadn't earned brownie points with her when she told him it was her husband's. Apparently, in Paragon, calling 'bullshit' on marital status was insulting. Huh. Go figure...

So the trip down to Westbrook had been tense. Silent but tense. Occasionally she would inform him of something. Remind him of someone's name. Once she even tried telling him what a great opportunity this was for someone like him. He responded by asking if the opportunity was as great as the one 'Up and Away Burger' got when she came in for lunch. That stopped the conversation all together. Whatever. If he had known he'd be a fucking prisoner to the state when he signed on to be their ward, he would have kept to the vigilante shit he was doing.

They were met at the academy's door by two people. One Ms. Wilson and the other being the Psionic Professor, Rai Tseng. And after bringing up Wilson's dead brother (followed by an elbow by the Tank), they had begun their tour.

So they walked through the school. Saw the dorms and the kids. Met some psionics who kept their distance from him - with good reason, assholes (Though, oddly, Tseng didn't seem to bother. Bigger asshole). They got a bite to eat in the Cafeteria, which was ruined the moment some resemblance of manners were expected from him. All in all, by the time the two-hour tour of the school was finished, Tank and him were on their way out.

"You are unbelievable, Thomas," Andrea said as she pulled him by the elbow towards the door. It wasn't like he couldn't get away but... well, shit... he needed a ride back to the orphanage. "Did you expect that to impress anyone?"

Roach snorted, slapping his hands together to reveal a Jack of Spades between his fingers. "And for my next trick, I’ll attempt to make your fat ass disap --"

Another sharp tug from the Tank and they were out the door.

"Excuse me!"

Roach twisted a glance over his shoulder and found a middle-aged man running towards the door. He was moderately well dressed with a thinning hair line and a body that hinted at a time where muscles were used more than a stapler. The man came to a halt a few feet away before flashing a grin.

"The fuck you want?" Roach asked only for Andrea to place a hand firmly on top of his shoulder. If the man was offended, he didn't show it. Honestly, his smile didn't falter. His mind didn't...

Roach narrowed his eyes. Oh, he was one of those types. Unreadables. So he was trained too.

"I'm sorry- I had a meeting to attend to in Atlas Park. I was hoping I made it back to meet you both. I'm Louis Herrera," the man began as he offered a hand towards Roach.

Not The Tank. Roach.

Fuck it. He'd bite. He reached out, snapped the man's hand, and immediately broke out into a shake he'd learned in Etoile's. Grip the hand, shift the palm, pull back to tighten around the fingers. Dip the elbow, grab the wrist and bing,bang, bam- Done.

And oddly enough, Herrera followed beat for beat. No confused stare and bashful comment like he had gotten from Wilson or Tseng. Not even a reaction on the opposite side of the spectrum. No smirk, no gloat. Herrera just followed him in a greeting and ended it with a shoulder bump.

Ah. He knew these types. 'Hip' Assholes.

"I wanted a chance to sit and speak with Thomas, if you have the time. I know we're getting close to prime traffic hour but I was hoping for at least a moment with him," Herrera continue as he disengaged from the shake.

Roach wrinkled his nose. "You a fuckin' pedophile?"

"Thomas Copeland!" The Tank began before Herrera just waved her off. His smile didn't exactly falter. He hadn't been caught off guard by Roach. The smile just thinned a tad. It seemed like it was just a natural progression of showing Roach his comments weren't needed or appreciated.

"If you are in a hurry to get back to your room, I understand. I was just hoping to chat with you. I understand if you feel uncomfortable with that so I'm not-"

"Oh, right, like I'm that fuckin' lame to fall for a line like that," Roach countered as he pulled his elbow from Andrea's grip. He crossed his arms over his chest, wrinkling his nose up at the man. "Let me guess, you want me to find out if you're secretly a homo? Or maybe you wanna chat 'bout using me as a tax write off, huh?"

Herrera's smile was gone now. And the look that Roach got was something that paused him from continuing his current rant. It was a look that he knew well on the Isles, one that he could read better than any thought or memory. It was a look that mostly everyone lacked in Paragon City. They tried but they hadn't perfected it. Not like Herrera had.

It simply read: "Don't fuck with me."

So Roach didn't.

----------------------------------

Roach looked around the office with a bemused smirk. Maybe it was the Westbrook air that was put on because he had expected... bigger. More shiney. Instead, he got a moderately clean room with bookshelves lined with books that ranged from educational material to nickle-novels he'd see at Port Oake's market. The desk was just that. A desk. Not a status symbol. The chairs might have been the most expensive things in the room. They were a little more shinier than the rest of the place which might have hinted that Herrera had spent a touch more than need be.

Everybody had their one thing that they'd spend more on. Herrera's was clearly comfortable chairs. Roach had a weakness for cigarettes.

Herrera didn't sit when they entered the room. He just stood behind his desk, reading over a file that had been waiting for him. He didn't speak. He didn't make eye contact. He just waited.

Which was awkward... cause this was Roach's game.

Roach fidgeted in the middle of the room before finally just scoffing loudly, moving to a chair to sit down. He fell down into the chair and immediately out of the 'Alpha' role. Only when this occurred did Herrera look his way.

"You're quite impressive," Herrera spoke, the file being dropped on top of the desk before he took a seat.

"I'm powerful, hell yeah. Psi ratin' is like-"

"Surviving the Isle's on your own couldn't have been easy. Nor smuggling yourself to Paragon," Herrera interrupted. He paused, letting that comment sink in.

Roach had been approached by some people after he finally signed up with the State. Some hero groups and some 'other' groups who were interested in someone of his talents. Crey had even offered him some 'work study' bullshit that required too much reading and signing for him to be comfortable with. And they always talked about how impressive he was... as a psionic. But Herrera hadn't opened up with that.

Odd.

"I just survived. Ain't like I expect a medal or nothin'," Roach countered.

"No, that's what surprised me about what I heard." Herrera paused for a moment to pyramid his fingers together. "Mrs. Watkins says that you just want to learn how to be a hero so you can go back to Etoile."

Roach shrugged his shoulders at this.

"Even after coming to Paragon. According to your application, the government is already in the process of finding ways to keep you in the States. No deportation threat," Herrera stated before leaning forward on his elbows."Why go back?"

"Cause it's my fuckin' home- What, you got a problem with Etoile?" Roach snapped.

"No- But I've met many teenagers your age that don't have such... altruistic goals," Herrera said. He paused, studied Roach, and then continued. "You probably are being offered some good deals. According to Mrs. Watkins, you've turned them down because they'd require you to stay in Paragon City."

Roach crossed his arms over his chest, looked down at his thumbs, and then uncrossed his arms. He rolled his shoulders in a response, not fully following where this was going but not liking it.

"You want to be a hero in one of the most dangerous environments this world has to offer, Thomas," Herrera began.

"Well, fuck you. Sorry I don't wanna sit on my ass and just have people die while you guys don't do dick. I don't care if I die-" Roach growled as he hopped to his feet. A fist clenched and the chair behind him was pushed back with an invisible force.

Usually this was when people got nervous.

Herrera seemed to just wait to see if he was finished.

"Thomas, I can't offer you money or promises. I can get you into Westbrook and help you afford the tuition with scholarships. It would require you to work hard without any 'easy passes' on your grades." Herrera paused for a few seconds before something seemed to ignite behind his eyes. His voice lowered, he leaned forward, and almost in a whisper, he said, "But I can make you a hero."

Roach wasn't stunned. He had several jokes he could say. Several insults he could sling. However, just because he wasn't blown away by the man's speech didn't mean he wasn't intrigued. He faltered for a moment, fidgeting in place before looking into the man's eyes.

"A hero for Paragon?"

"I'd prefer it, Thomas. However, I will promise you I'll never stop you from going to Etoile. If that's where you want to be at the end of your two years here, I won't have anything that will keep you here. No contracts. No obligations save for keeping your grade up in order to take part in our training."

It was a pitch. There was no disguising that. However, unlike the big titted blond from Crey, it wasn't a pitch dipped with honey and showing off more than a moderate supply of cleavage. Instead of seeing what he could do to get Roach to join the academy, the guy had the balls to tell Roach what he needed to do to be accepted.

Oddly enough, Roach liked that.

Roach remembered the old men on the Isles who would scream at the kids to get off their fucking lawn. Then he remembered the latter... the men who offered candy to kids and a promise of a van ride.
Roach knew which he preferred.

"So, I get the grades, I get the training?" Roach asked, finally breaking the silence.

Herrera nodded his head. Roach hadn't noticed but the man had actually held his breath since after his little spiel. He leaned back in his seat, once again picking up the file to read. "You will be required to go to counseling every week and attend Ethic's class-"

"Oh, the hell?! Cause I'm from Etoiles?" Roach snapped.

Herrera lowered the file and gave Roach a stare that froze him before he could start with the cursing. He kept the stare for a few seconds before looking back at the file. "Profession Rai Tseng is a very knowledgeable psionic, Thomas."

And that was all he needed to say for Roach to feel his shoulder's deflate. He looks down at his hands, his nose returning to that wrinkled state. So... they knew about him and his hunger.

"Thomas, I believe that you want to be a hero. I believe you when you say that Etoile needs more people willing to return to help out," Herrera stopped, waited, and then nodded his head after those words had time to sink into Roach's head. "I believe you're strong and dedicated and up for the challenge Westbrook has to offer."

And with that, Herrera stood up, moved around the desk, and offered a handshake to Roach. Roach just stared at it before finally taking it. A normal handshake followed though it lacked any real strength from Roach. The headmaster's words had finally 'blown' Roach away.

And with that, Herrera led him to the door. "Please call us, Thomas. We want you part of Westbrook. And you have my word that as long as you earn the right to be called a hero, you will be trained as one."

And that was how Roach had come to Westbrook. With the aide of a 'Don't Fuck With Me' stare, a borrowed tie, and a man taking a chance that Roach was more than just a psionic and a monster, it took Roach less than twenty minutes to sign all the necessary paperwork.

----------------------

“ ... So I owe him, yeah,” Roach finished, staring up at the ceiling of Ms. Wilson’s office. He heard scribbling at his side and just accepted that Ms. Wilson wanted to make a note.

He hated being studied... ugh.

Roach quickly snapped his head her way, his lips peeling back into a snarl. “Ain’t like I’m lookin’ to go down on him or shit. I just know I owe him, okay?” And with that, Roach looked away. His arms crossed over his chest and he stuck his chin up in that stubborn fashion Brook made fun of him about.

“You like having a positive role model to look up to. That’s not wrong, Roach,” Ms. Wilson said as she set her pad to the side table. She offered him one of those warm smiles that Roach had secretly gotten to like and scooted forward a tad in her chair. “You enjoy Reilly for the same reason. Both are men who accepted you for who you are.”

Roach bit back the comments that were his initial gut reaction. Instead, he just frowned and returned his gaze back up to the ceiling.

“Do you really not fear dying in Etoile?”

The tension in Roach’s face suddenly felt weak, that stubborn chin feeling more like jello trying not to shake during a family picnic. He blinked a few times, running the questions through his head before he answered with a shrug.

“You’re strong, Roach. But that doesn’t mean you need to be fearsome -”

“I deserve to die,” Roach said as he sat up in the seat. He hesitated for a second before just pointing towards the door, a bell sounding in the hall. He tossed a glance towards Ms. Wilson, already knowing what she was about to offer. More time. More talk. ‘Off the Record’ and ‘I’m here for you’ bullshit.

Roach just grabbed his book bag and hopped over the couch, moving off towards the door. He reached for the door knob, paused, and then looked back at Ms. Wilson. She just watched him, clearly realizing he had just saw what memory had flashed through her mind.

Her brother.

Roach hesitated before dropping his hand from the door knob. He turned fully towards her before saying, “I ain’t goin’ to do that. I just... It makes it easier when I say that, okay?”

She opened her mouth to respond to him but Roach turned, opening the door. He stepped out into the hall, took a breath, and then went along with the steady stream of students who cloaked his escape.