The Price of Justice

Merely an attempt at trying to get some things out of my head involving a story for one of my classes. Also a little bit of inspiration via Dragon Age II (but very very minor).

 

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His mother was dead.

He turned seventeen today and his mother was dead.

Edwin Fell dropped his head into his hands, long fingers lacing into his blond hair, and shook where he sat on the front steps of his house. Yet even as he closed his eyes he could still see her body where it hung from the upper half of the stairwell. The image seemed like it was seared into his brain from the moment he'd walked in the door after school.

What he didn't understand was why.

She had been fine before he'd left in his brand new car, before she'd gone to work. It had been her idea to celebrate his birthday with just the two of them since they hadn't had time together in so long because of her work. "Pizza and whatever movie you want," she'd told him with that same bright smile she gave every morning when he came downstairs. He'd been looking forward to time spent just with her all day too, barely able to pay attention in class.

And now...she was dead.

"Eddie?" A small body dropped next to him on the steps, an arm moving to wind around his waist as the hand attached to the other curled fingers gently around his wrist. "I'm sorry."

Edwin lifted his head at those words, trying to ignore the sharp pinprick of tears that threatened the corners of his eyes, and frowned at the girl next to him. Melanie Stark gave him a look that was far too old for her fourteen years as he asked, "The hell do you have to be sorry for, Mel? It's not like you killed her."

She just kept giving him that look until his skin started to crawl and he opened his mouth to speak. Melanie moved at that moment, throwing her arms around his neck, her sudden weight pushing him back into the stairs until his spine dug into the concrete steps. She buried her face in his shoulder and Edwin blinked a few times before he slowly wrapped his arms around her, his expression edging on worried.

"Mel? Are you...all right?"

"Am I all right?" she gasped into his shirt, voice slightly muffled. "Me? That's not the question that needs asking." Melanie lifted her head then and stared him right in the eye before she said sharply, "I'm not okay. You're not okay. Nothing about this is okay, Eddie."

Edwin attempted a scowl at the nickname but the effort was halfhearted. He then laid his head back against the porch, closed his eyes, and let out a heavy sigh. "I'm not okay," he admitted.

"No," Melanie agreed. She then shivered and said, "Mom's talking to the police about letting you come with us. That's how I got past."

"Oh," he said. He hadn't even wondered how she'd gotten past the ring of officers and police cars that had blocked off his yard from the street and the errant passersby. Edwin was barely even aware of the blue and red lights that still lit up his yard. He then frowned as his chest tightened, something seeming to grow quickly within him. It swelled and he found himself choking on a sob, his arms tightening around Melanie as he lifted his head to bury it in her hair and gasped, "She's dead. My mom's dead."

"Oh, Ed," he heard her breath then he couldn't keep it in anymore. The great monstrous thing growing in his chest demanded release, clawing at his throat and lungs for purchase. For a moment he couldn't breath, couldn't speak...then Melanie's arms tightened around him and it all came bursting free.

For a moment he lost track of time and he was...nowhere. There was no house, no steps, no Melanie, no dead mother. Just...emptiness.

And he wondered if that nothing, that silence, was what death was like.

Then the world caught up - or did he catch up with the world? - and Edwin found himself practically cradled in Melanie's mother's arms. He shook and tried to pull away but Elizabeth Stark held on to him tightly until he went limp again, all the fight gone out of him. What was there to fight for? He had no one with his mother gone; all of her family was dead and his father had left when he was five to have another family. The Starks...they were all he had. And he...

Well, they had always called him their second son. Even after...no, he didn't want to think about that now.

"Officer," he dimly heard Elizabeth say, "please let me take him away. This isn't any place for a child to be."

"Ma'am, I..."

"We live just down the road: number 305." There was silence then Edwin felt her fingers in his hair and leaned into the touch. "I've known the boy since he was seven. He's like a son. Please. He's been through enough today."

A pause answered then a man sighed before saying, "Officer Grady will escort you home, Mrs. Stark. Just bring the boy by the station tomorrow so we can talk to him."

"Of course. Thank you. Come on, Edwin." She was pulling him up then, his hands in hers, and Edwin felt Melanie's hands pulling at his sides until he stumbled upright. Between them and the officer they somehow got him to the Stark home though he didn't remember the trip. After that outburst, he had gone numb in mind and heart.

It was like every emotion had poured out of him and now he had nothing left to allow him to feel.

Edwin was barely aware of being prepared for bed and he automatically swallowed the pills that Elizabeth pressed into his hand. He felt trapped in his own body as she tucked him in, kissed his forehead, then left with a soft promise to come check on him later. There were so many things he wanted to say - thank you, I'm sorry, you don't have to take care of me - but none of the words would come.

Exhaustion caught up with him and the pills kicked in as the stress that had been keeping him going melted away. His eyelids were fluttering despite not wanting to go to sleep for fear of seeing his mother's body hanging again and terror welled in the back of his throat.

Then Melanie ghosted into the room and burrowed under the blankets next to him almost before he was even aware of her presence. Edwin was grateful for the company though, for the comforting press of her arms against his ribs, and shifted across the pillow to lean his head against hers. She kissed his nose and gave him that sad knowing look older than her years again before she closed her eyes.

He wanted to say something about how inappropriate it was for her to be there but he didn't. After the day he'd had...after the year they'd both had...he appreciated the move. Plus, he'd known her since she was four years-old so she was nothing more than a little sister in his mind.

So instead Edwin gave into the silence, the comfort, and the exhaustion, falling into a troubled sleep that was miraculously absent of his mother's hanging body.

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Edwin Fell woke screaming from the image of his mother hanging and stumbled from his bunk. Fumbling in the dark for the door, he staggered into the hallway of his group's latest little hideout and slumped against the wall. His breath came in harsh gasps as he slid down to the floor, fingernails clawing for purchase in the cheap wood of the wall paneling of the old house.

Eighteen years of moving past them and one little hidden file brought all the nightmares about his mother rushing back.

Swiping a hand over his face, he started to get up when a door down the hall opened. When Melanie stepped out and rushed down to his side, he wasn't surprised.

She'd probably been expecting this sort of reaction.

"I shouldn't have let you drink," she muttered as she brushed back his blond hair. Edwin made a noise at that, though he wasn't sure whether it was disagreement or yes, you should have, then lifted a hand to cup her cheek. Her hand was instantly over his and then their fingers were tangled. "Ed?"

"I'm okay," he muttered and shrugged at her dubious expression. "I got over Mom's death a long time ago, Mel. It's...knowing she was trying to stop them, that they killed her to keep it quiet. I just..."

Edwin paused, frowning, then sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall with a hearty thump.

"Is that the price of justice? To fight for what's right only to die for that cause? Is that what I've doomed us all to?"

Melanie opened her mouth to answer then closed it as she turned to sit down next to him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and then they leaned their heads together as she whispered, "There's only one question that needs asking."

Eerily he was reminded of that night, of the question of whether he was okay. He knows that isn't the question this time though.

"What?" asked Edwin.

"If that's the price of justice, is it worth fighting for?"

He flinched at the question then Edwin thought of his mother, of her brother, of their friends, their fellow rebels, and so many more. Every innocent life taken because of the technology his mother had developed and then tried to destroy. Had her attempt at justice been worth it?

Was the freedom of the world worth it?

Edwin closed his eyes as he answered, "Yes," and then Melanie's arms were wrapped around him again like they were that afternoon so long ago in a silent acceptance of that answer.

If they got justice for the dead and the living then died, the price was worth it.

Maybe it wasn't pretty. And maybe the way they'd get it wouldn't be right in the eyes of others when their story is told in the aftermath.

Nobody ever said justice was easy though.

Lesson Five is on Repeat

Sequel to Lesson Four Comes Before Lesson One (Sometimes)

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“So let's run through this again,” said Lyri, gesturing across the table with her spoon at Cavan. He groaned at that and next to her Marik smothered a laugh in his sleeve before focusing intently on his plate. The pilot gave the teenage apprentice a brief glower then looked at the blue-haired mechanic with a pleading gaze.

Cavan wheedled, “Can I not eat breakfast in peace just this once, Illyri?”

Lyri frowned and tapped the edge of her spoon against the surface of the table in a slow, rhythmic pattern. After a moment she drawled, “Not when you're about to take my baby into battle again after two months on the off-duty roster.”

“Your baby?!”

“Yeah, mine. I'm the one that's pieced her back together every time you've tore her apart these past six years. You want to argue with me on that, Cavan?”

He met her gray eyes, flicked his gaze up to her slightly arched eyebrows, then lowered his gaze back to his food. Grumpily he pushed potatoes around on his plate with his fork before he grumbled, “No.”

“Good,” said Lyri with a brief scowl. She ceased tapping her spoon against the table then and reached across the table to flick him across the nose with it. As he yelped and batted it away, she repeated, “So let's run through this again. Lesson Five is repetition, repetition, repetition, remember?”

With a frown and a roll of his eyes, Cavan sat down his fork then pushed his plate away so he could fold his arms along the edge of the table. He knew well enough by now that when she started demanding rote and roll from him that he wasn't about to get anything else to eat. “So what first, Battlemaster?”

That earned him another flick across the nose and a snarl of, “Don't call me that.”

As Lyri settled back into her seat, she flicked Marik on the ear and scolded, “And don't snicker at him. You'll make him think he's actually funny.”

“Oy!” exclaimed Cavan. “I'll have you know I am quite funny!”

“Well it's not your towering sense of humor that I'm after,” she shot back. “I want to hear how you're going to take care of my baby.”

“Fine, fine...gods, don't hit me again! I'm about to start talking, woman!”

Lyri smiled serenely as she leaned back in her seat, lowering the spoon she'd been about to flick him with again to the table, and waited. Cavan scowled at her then closed his eyes and let out a breath as he settled his mind. When he opened his eyes again, his thoughts were completely focused and his expression had gone starkly serious.

“System start-up with my code followed by checking that all systems are working. After that I can bring up the loadouts to make sure the armor is set right, limbs aren't sticking, and everything's in the green.” Cavan paused for a moment and asked, “How far do you want me to go?”

“To getting your ass and hers back in the ship hangar in one piece,” answered Lyri, flicking Marik on the ear again as he snickered.

The pilot frowned but didn't roll his eyes as might have been expected. Then he continued, “If all shows up green, I'm clear to move out with the rest of the squad on the mission. Group of thirty raiders is the target and I am – by order of the Commander – to run as Colonel Treize's wing-man when he goes after the fuel supplies we know they have on surface. If all goes well, the supplies will be in our hands; worst case scenario, they blow them in an attempt to flambe and/or blind us and we proceed to light up their sorry asses like the cowards they are.”

Cavan paused, scratching the back of his head, then finished, “All going well with the other members of the squad, we should have the camp neutralized in minutes. If they actually manage to get some of their Mechs up and running, maybe an extra ten to twenty depending on how many they get going. After that it's back home.”

“Now it'll just have to actually go like you plan,” mumbled Marik, earning another flick about the ear from Lyri. “Ow! I'm just sayin'!”

“That's jinxing the whole damn mission,” she growled in response. “Superstitions, Marik, you've got to remember mercenary superstitions! You can't just say something like that when we're about to send a squad off on a job.”

“Sorry.”

“No harm done, honestly,” said Cavan with a shake of his head. He grinned at the apprentice then rose from his seat, picking up his plate as he went. “You believe too much in the old superstitions, Illyri. Keep a gun underneath your pillow too?”

The blue-haired mechanic just grinned at him before replying, “And a knife.”

He laughed at that then said, “I'll be fine. Trust me.”

As Cavan walked away, Marik leaned over and asked softly, “I...I didn't actually jinx the squad, did I, Lyri?”

Lyri smiled fondly at him and pulled the teenager into a hug, ruffling his hair.

“Don't you worry, Rik,” she said as her eyes followed Cavan as he left the mess hall, swallowing her own fears. “He'll be fine. And he'll keep my baby in one piece if he doesn't want to get shot when he comes back.”

Lesson Four Comes Before Lesson One (Sometimes)

Old world rock music roared through the hangar, cranked up even louder than it usually was due to the alarm that was blaring. Shouting voices and the sound of huge machines rumbling to life filled in the gaps in the music between the heavy thump of drums, the wail of a guitar, and the wild screaming words of the singer. Cavan Redirk bolted through the panic with his helmet under his arm, tugging the thin vest he wore closed over his bare chest and shorts a little self-consciously. He ducked under a gesturing mechanic's arm then bobbed and weaved his way between the legs of the metal titans that were already moving out of the hangar or still standing in wait for their pilots.

Nearing the back of the hangar, he found not only the towering bulk of his own Mech but also the source of the music. Tilting his head back, Cavan frowned upwards at the humanoid-shaped titan and the two mechanics that crawled over its black painted skin like ants.

"Hey!" he shouted upwards, getting the attention of the pair. As two sets of eyes looked down at him, he snapped, "Get down, I've got to go!"

The mechanic perched high in the cockpit said something that couldn't be heard over the music. With a grimace, he then disappeared inside and the volume lowered before he popped back into view.

"You gotta talk to Lyri about that, Cav," he called down, pointing at the scowling woman who was clinging to the side of the Mech. Cavan turned his head towards where she was perched, suspended by straps clipped to hooks in the armor above her, and frowned pointedly.

He should have known better though.

Illyri Varik had been assigned as his main mechanic six years ago when he had joined up with the Black Dogs Company. He had been sixteen and stupid back then, thinking he was the best pilot who had ever been in a Mech cockpit, and he had not fully appreciated being saddled with a thirteen year-old girl despite the fact that she had been raised amongst the Dogs since birth and was a certified genius with just about any tech.

To say they didn't have a good working relationship was putting it lightly.

Cavan knew what was coming the instant he looked up at her. Illyri's eyes were hidden behind the fringe of her blue-dyed hair but he knew from experience that they were glaring at him with a fury that could strip paint. She looked at him for a moment before she stood up, almost completely horizontal from the floor, and gestured at him with the heavy wrench she held in her left hand.

"You," she intoned imperiously, "are not going anywhere. This leg is still twitching funny when she walks and it might foul up entirely if you get her to a run. The right arm is still missing armor that needs replacing as well a replacement elbow joint because of its freeze ups. And your coolant system is working so wonkily that if you go out now you'd be forced to use one of the old vests from storage to keep the heat from making your blood boil and, trust me, you don't want to have to do that." Illyri paused then finished, "So stuff it and go play cards or something."

He blinked, jaw working furiously as he searched for words, then looked up at the cockpit. His other mechanic was Lyri's assistant and protege: a genius like her at sixteen years but who jumped at every loud noise. "Marik!" he barked and the teenager yelped, cautiously poking his head out from where he had disappeared inside again.

"Y-yes?"

"What's your opinion?"

Marik Aerani grimaced and looked down at Illyri, who kept her gaze on Cavan without ever seeming to notice the focus of her protege. Then the teenager squeaked out, "I agree with her," before he vanished back into the cockpit with a heavy thump. A moment later the music cranked up to the volume of before, making the pilot sigh heavily.

"So," said Lyri loudly a moment later, "you gonna get the hell out of here or do you actually want to learn some shit today?"

Cavan frowned up at her then blinked in surprise as he realized what she had just offered it. It was...it was almost the beginning of a truce. He could shove her off and be the same idiot of sixteen he'd been when they had met - or he could grow up, act his twenty-two years, and be an adult to her just like he was to his fellow pilots.

With a sudden smile, he sat down his helmet on top of a nearby crate then looked up at her again.

"What do you want me to do?"

Her mouth opened in an 'O' of surprise that told him she'd expected to be greeted with the same idiot she'd dealt with for six years. Then Lyri regained her composure and said, "There's another harness down there and straps so put that on. Then grab the welding mask on the cart below me and the blowtorch, we're going to need it."

Nodding, Cavan found the items she was talking about and slowly began making his way up the leg of his Mech to where she stood on its thigh. She took the mask and blowtorch from him then pointed out hooks above them to latch the straps on the harness on. Following her instructions he ended up hanging next to her from the side of his Mech, managing a careful crouch by wedging one combat boot between two peices of armor.

Lyri handed him the welding mask back and said, "Alright then, hotshot, here's lesson four of taking care of this baby."

"Shouldn't we start at lesson one?" asked Cavan.

"I don't do things in order," she answered with a wry smile that he noticed lit up her gray eyes. "So, snap that mask down and I'm going to teach you how to patch armor. If you don't know how to fix a hole in your Mech's side when I'm not around, you're not going to have one for long."

Cavan grinned before he dropped the mask over his face and watched as she pulled a pair of goggles hidden in her hair down over her eyes. He paid careful attention to her as she explained how to work the blowtorch and make sure the patch sealed up all the way. And when she let him finish working on the hole in his Mech's thigh on his own, he felt a sense of pride in his chest that he'd never had before.

Was this what she felt like when she worked?

Hell, he hadn't felt this good since he had downed his first enemy Mech. And that feeling hadn't lasted long after he realized there had been another pilot, another human being, in there when its reactor core had exploded from a breach.

"So," said Cavan as the finished and he pushed the mask up to look sideways at her, "was this some kind of test?"

Lyri grinned at him then shoved her goggles up onto her forehead, sending her dyed hair in all directions. "You could say that, hotshot," she answered.

"Did I pass?"

"I'll give you a 'C' for a first attempt." She jerked her head towards the door that led to the Dogs barracks and added, "Better effort than some of those other jerks."

Cavan smiled and asked, "So I can improve?"

Lyri laughed at that before replying, "We'll see, hotshot. First we're gonna go back to lesson one."

"Okay, what's lesson one?"

"Learning how to work your computer more than just knowing how to read loadouts. Marik!"

"Yeah, boss?" came the querelous cry from above them.

"Shut down the system and go take a break," called up Lyri. "You need to study those manuals I gave you anyway."

"Okay. Shutting down."

The music turned off, followed a moment later by the clicking of the reactor cooling off, and Cavan heard Marik climing down the other side of his Mech. Lyri then grinned at him and started upward, unhooking the straps on her harness as she passed them.

"C'mon, hotshot, I'm going to teach you a thing or two," she called down to him.

Cavan blinked then started up after her, juggling blowtorch and mask as he tried not to stare at her ass.

"And stop ogling my ass!"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered hastily as he continued climbing, grateful she hadn't just dropped her wrench on his head. Then, as he settled into the cockpit next to her, listening as she began to instruct him in the things he should know about his Mech, he realized that this could very well be the start of a beautiful friendship.