Tekken Fan Fiction ❯ The Stone Lotus ❯ Chapter Fifteen ( Chapter 15 )

Chapter Fifteen

It had taken a couple of hours for the crowds to break and finally leave the arena deserted. Steve crept cautiously towards the front entrance; the only lights that lit his way were the emergency lights and the street lights that beckoned from outside the several sets of double glass doors lining the front of the massive building. He picked up his pace until he was nearly running to the doors.

He was homesick already. He needed to see his parents and to sleep in his own bed. The boxer stopped himself in front of a set of doors and looked outside. His heart sank a little when he saw that the parking lot was completely empty aside from a lone security car cruising along lazily. However, he reminded himself that Smart and the others probably went back to their hotel to celebrate without him. With a heavy sigh, he pushed on the door handle with both hands and stepped out.

The contrast from earlier was startling. It was peaceful that night, aside from the sounds of distant traffic. Steve stood still for a moment to soak in everything; he closed his eyes and listened, all while inhaling deeply. It felt like the first night he spent with his parents, alone in his new bedroom with the window cracked opened that night, and murmurs of cars and wind whispering to him as he tried to sleep. Only five then, he had been too excited to really rest. Someone had wanted him.

His existance had finally been validated.

Steve opened eyes and looked forward at the seemingly endless parking lot that stretched out before him. He then frowned and started walking to find a cab.

*****

Oddly, all Forest could think about at the moment was that he was out of cigarettes. As he sat in his apartment with his phone to his ear, he watched Grant pace back and forth nervously. Derrick sat on the couch next to Forest and seemed disappointed; however he had insisted on joining the two bookies for the rest of the evening. Absentmindedly, the American picked up a ballpoint pen that had been lying next to the phone and put it in his mouth as if he was going to light it.

"Have you gotten anything, Law?" Grant asked for the seventh time. Forest shook his head and hung up his phone.

He then pulled the pen from his mouth, "Well, I still think they're just out making sure that--"

There was a heavy knock at the front door. Grant froze in place; all three men fell silent and stared wide-eyed at the door. Cautiously, Forest stood up then placed a finger to his lips as a warning. He then crept over to the door.

"Who is it?" he called as he stood by the side of the door. There was no answer; Forest turned and gestured for his guests to take cover, which both Derrick and Grant scurried and hid behind the couch. The American, however, stood at the door and listened. When he heard nothing, he sighed with relief and turned to join his friends. Suddenly, the front door burst open; Forest spun around and instinctly jerked into stance.

The two gunmen were silent, both dressed in black tailored suits and dark glasses, and each were armed with a handgun, much to Forest's dismay. He looked them over carefully; one of the men was a tall, solidly built man, obviously a weightlifter, his head clean-shaven and a goatee on his face. His partner was the complete opposite of him: short, stocky, curly dark hair that was trimmed neatly. Forest dropped his eyes to the intruders' hands and watched them carefully.

The bald man spoke first, "Where is he?"

"Who?" Forest asked cautiously; both men aimed their guns at the young man's chest. With a frustrated sigh, he relaxed and lifted his arms up in defeat and made eye contact, though still watching the weapons through the corner of his eye.

"The boxer. Steve Fox."

Behind the couch, Grant looked over at Derrick and mouthed, "What the fuck?" The other man shrugged nervously in response.

Derrick then whispered back, "Why don't you do something, you jerk!" Grant blinked and violently shook his head. However, it was enough to prompt him to peek out from behind the couch and watch.

"Well?" the man in the suit replied.

Forest shook his head and spoke slowly, "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what's going on... Why would Fox be here?"

The other thug grunted and nodded at his friend; the two then cocked their guns simultaneously. That, however, gave Forest the little time he needed.

Before either of the men could reaim, the American lashed out with a front kick, knocking the gun out of the hand of the taller man. The smaller thug yelled with surprise and hastily pulled his gun up to retaliate for his friend, however Forest had anticipated the motion and swung his right hand back, slamming it into the jaw of the short man. He stumbled back and dropped his weapon; Forest dashed out of the way and dived onto the ground towards the couch, grabbing the gun before it could hit the floor and also sweeping up the bald man's gun in one elegant motion.

Quickly, he straighted up, holding a gun in each hand and aiming one at each thug.

Grant then stood up astonished as Forest walked casually towards to two men; the tall man put his hands in the air, though the other thug cradled his jaw.

Forest stepped towards the two, "I'm not sure what's going on, but I want the both of you out of my place. Now."

"Look," the tall man began cautiously, "We just need to find Steve Fox. Just tell us where he is--"

"--Were you not listening?" the younger man replied coolly. "Get out. Now." The man nodded, grabbed the short man by the shoulders, and pulled him towards the door; the stocky man stumbled after his friend, still rubbing his broken jaw. The two then trudged off; however, Forest kept his guns aimed at the door until he couldn't hear foots any longer. He then relaxed and strolled over to his door, setting the weapons on the table next to his phone on his way.

Grant blinked, "What the fuck, Law?" Derrick poked his head out over the back of the couch, then stood up as well when he saw that it was safe.

Forest ignored Grant and frowned as he grabbed the doorknob to inspect his door.

"Jesus, when did you learn all that Bruce Lee shit? Derrick, did you see that?" Grant continued, still in awe.

The American clicked the roof of his mouth then sighed, "Goddammit, those fuckers broke my lock!"

"Law!"

He glanced over his shoulder, "What?"

Derrick and Grant both just continued to stare at the other young man who waited for some kind of response. When he got none, Forest shrugged and when back to fiddling with the doorknob.

Grant blinked.

*****

Julia waved to Xiaoyu from her car then watched as the younger girl scurried over to the boarding house entrance, clinging to her baseball cap as if it would save her from getting wet. Hwoarang sat silently in the front seat, arms crossed and looking forward; despite how quickly the windshield wipers were moving, it was difficult to see in the downpour. After Xiaoyu had made it inside, Julia gave a relieved sigh then put the car into gear to back out of where she had parked.

After they had been on the road for a bit, Julia asked, "So, do you want to explain what that little outburst was about?"

"What?" Hwoarang glanced over at the younger girl, then rolled his eyes as he slumped further down in his seat.

"I don't mind you smarting off at me, but you could had waited until Xiao was gone." She kept her gaze forward as she drove slowly; much to her chagrin, the afternoon traffic was fairly heavy, despite of the weather.

Hwoarang shrugged, "I'm not going to say I'm sorry, if that's what you want."

"That's fine. I just didn't want to drag her into this." He wanted to laugh at that statement, but he didn't. Instead, he straightened up in his seat and uncrossed his arms.

"Well, can I ask you something?" he said, finally turning fully to face his companion.

Julia frowned, "Okay, what?"

"You hate Jin, don't you?"

"No. What kind of question is that?" she chuckled; the car inched forward still behind a long line of other cars. Everything outside of the windows was distorted, and the twisted reflections of red brake lights in the waterspots made fiery splotches on the otherwise colorless world. Beneath the humming of the old cadillac's engine and the drumming of the rain, horns honked at each other, making for an strangly hypnotic symphony.

Hwoarang closed his eyes and listened for a moment before continuing, "Did the two of you make up?" His eyes were still closed.

"In Mexico?"

"Yeah."

Julia gave another sardonic chuckle, "If fucking the night before counts, then I guess we did."

"Fucking, eh?" A grin creeped across Hwoarang's face, however he kept his eyes shut. "You sound so impassioned about your relationship at that point."

"That's what it was." The younger girl let out a heavy sigh as she slowed to a stop several cars behind a red light. "You know, he did tell me he loved me that night, but I...I really have my doubts about how much he really meant it."

"Why's that?" He opened his eyes and straightened up in his seat, and he looked over and blinked at the younger girl, who kept her eyes on the road; the light had turned green, but the line of vehicles stayed and waited to move. The honking grew louder around them, and the sound of rain was almost lost over the obnoxious shrills. Again he rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh, not expecting an answer.

"Because, if he did, he would had came home like I asked."

Hwoarang blinked and turned in his seat, "And he said no."

"There was a lot more to it, but pretty much, yeah. He went there for a reason, and he wasn't planning on coming home." She frowned and continued, "I was a such a fool for believing that he'd listen. He never listened, and I could kick myself for flying down there just to stop him when I knew he'd just do what he wanted."

"Well...you thought you loved him, though," the older boy replied quietly. "Or were you having doubts?..."

Hwoarang hated himself for the small glimmer of hope that he was feeling as he waited. However, he kept a straight face as he gazed intently at Julia, who still looked forward as she drove slowly. The only sound was the rain and the windshield wipers at the moment, which clicked rhythmically as they desperately tried to clear away all the water. Again, he didn't expect a reply, but somehow he knew that he had won this time.

Finally, Julia answered, "Rang, there's only two people in the world that I would do anything for, and Jin was one of them."

"Who's the other?"

A small smile crept over her lips, however she kept quiet and drove. Hwoarang let out a chuckle and turned back in his seat to slump down again. Julia reached over and turned on the radio.

It seemed like it took hours to finally get back to Julia's, but Hwoarang noted that it hadn't even been half an hour as they pulled up into the driveway. The rain had slacked off some but still was fairly heavy, and the two scurried up the front porch. They both laughed as they raced each other, regardless of not speaking to each other during the last part of the ride home.

Instead of going inside, they stood together on the porch and watched the rain and water run off the roof. Soon, Julia sat down in front of the door, crossing her legs indian-style; Hwoarang did the same and rested his arms on his knees.

The sky brightened as the rain finally slowed to a drizzle, then to nothing at all over the hour they sat and waited in silence.

It was Hwoarang that finally spoke first, and he stated in a rather thoughful manner, "You know, sex ruins everything." Julia glaced over at the older boy then chuckled, an amiable grin on her face. He smiled back then glanced down at his hands that now were resting in his lap; he laughed softly to himself, though he wasn't exactly sure what he himself meant by the statement. Maybe it was an apology, or maybe just a pointless observation. He looked up to see that she was still smiling. With a light sigh, he stood up and dusted himself off. Julia did the same, and at last she unlocked and opened the front door.

Hwoarang found himself wanting to kiss her as he watched the younger girl make her way through the house as he stood at the front door, hands shoved in his pants pockets. It wasn't a matter of sexual desire, though his exact reasons he again didn't know.

"Rang, shut the door behind you," she sang from the kitchen.

He quickly obeyed then went to join her. When he reached the kitchen, he sighed heavily then leaned over the counter, resting on his elbows. Julia's back was to him as she opened cabinets then pulled out a glass.

"Do you want something to drink?" she asked as she glanced over her shoulder; he shook his head in response. She shrugged and turned back to close the cabinet doors. Hwoarang straightened up then pulled away from the counter. Still not speaking, he walked into the kitchen to where the younger girl stood about ready to open the fridge. He, however, hugged her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

Julia tensed up; her arms dropped slowly, and she began trembling. Hwoarang didn't pull away, though, and he nuzzled her lightly on the neck then brushed his lips against the softness of her nape. Nervously, she turned around and faced Hwoarang. Without any hesitation, he pressed his lips firmly against hers.

The world seemed to stop then.

*****

Sirens blared from everywhere, and there were police cars and ambulances surrounding the hotel. Steve watched from the window his cab, fascinated but still calm. It was difficult to tell exactly what was going on, but most of the front of the building was sealed off with police tape and barricades. Flashblubs from news crews blinked from the crowd forming at the entrance.

The blond frowned, "Let me out." The driver said something unintelligible in his native tongue and continued to circle slowly around the lot, carefully avoiding patrol cars and any officers on foot. Eventually, however, they were stopped by an officer near the entrance where an ambulance was parked with its back doors opened and waiting.

Steve felt his stomach tighten as the policeman knocked on the driverside window then gestured for the cabby to roll down his window. With a frustrated sigh, the driver did as he was told.

"What?" he asked in his thick accent.

The officer shook his head, "You'll have to turn around. No one's allowed to enter the building at the moment." Behind him, ambulance workers busted out of the front doors with a stretcher; Steve cranked his head as he tried to watch from the backseat.

The cabby frowned, "I have customer."

"Well, he's going to have to wait."

"No, no. He goes inside."

The boxer half-listened to the exchange as he squinted, trying to get a better look at the fiasco that went on outside; the stretcher was rolled past the stopped taxi. His stomach tightened more, and he felt sick; however, he instinctly opened the door and jumped out.

The policeman yelped with surprise as the blond shoved him out of the way then sprinted from the car and after the ambulance workers.

"Sir!" the officer yelled, but the boxer did not listen and continued running.

"Smart!" Steve cried as he ran up to the stretcher. The medics stopped, confused, as the boxer caught up with them and rushed over to Smart's side. The elderly man's eyes were closed and his face covered with an oxygen mask. His plaid workman's shirt was opened, and Steve could see where his mentor had been wounded several times, each wound covered in bloody gaze from makeshift bandages.

"What happened?" the blond desperately asked one of the workers.

One of the workers shook her head, "What does it look like? There was a shooting." The medics then pushed past him to the ambulance, and Steve could only watch helplessly as Smart was loaded up to be taken to the nearest hospital.

*****

"You okay?"

Jaime glanced over his shoulder at his roommate then nodded once solemnly before turning back; he had been sitting alone outside on the tiny balcony that made up their back porch. And despite it being a weeknight, there were was alot of partying going on in several of the neighboring apartments. However, h e seemed oblivous to that.

Christie frowned, "You should at least wear a coat. It's cold."

"I'm fine." The younger girl sighed heavily and stepped completely outside, sliding the back door shut behind her. She then hugged herself, shivering a bit from the cool night air before she sat down in front of Jaime in an empty lawnchair. With a heavy sigh, she looked out towards where Jaime stared; buildings sticking up everywhere, people laughing and drinking below in their concrete cages, impossible to see the stars above.

Suddenly she felt homesick for Brazil; in the town where she grew up, she could see stars every night, and she missed the chirping from the insects that started with every twilight. Christie glanced over at Jaime as she wondered if he ever felt the same way.

"Hey, look," she began again, "I'm sorry about the fight."

He looked up, "Oh, no. I enjoyed myself. Thank you."

"...You sure?" Jaime nodded again then looked back out.

"Hey, Jaime?"

The older boy blinked then glanced back over at Christie, "Hm?"

She hesistated, rubbing her hands together to warm them, "...Do you ever miss your family?"

"Not at all."

"How come?"

He frowned a bit, "There's nothing to miss."

"I...I see." There was a brief, awkward silence after she said that, and after crossing her arms to keep warm, Christie stood up. She walked over to the back door and slid it open. However, she patted Jaime once on the shoulder before going in.

"Good night," she said.

"Good night."

She didn't sleep well that night, constantly tossing and turning as she tried to make herself comfortable in her bed. More irritating than not being able to sleep was that she hadn't a single idea why she couldn't sleep; there wasn't a bit of guilt over what she and Jaime had done that day. It honestly didn't feel any different from the conversations they always had. However, Christie did get a sense that something was bothering him ever since they left from the arena, and she hoped that he wasn't regretting anything.

Her bedroom door opened, and she shot up alarmed. She then relaxed as she realized that it was only Jaime, who slipped in quietly then latched the door closed behind him. They locked eyes for a moment in the dark; he then crept over to her bed, lifted the covers, and slid into bed next to the younger girl.

"Are you sure everything's okay?" she asked as she turned to face the older boy lying next to her. He nodded once and smiled slightly as he pulled the covers up to his chin. Christie couldn't help but smile at how childish Jaime looked; his hair was messy and just the shy, tight lip grin he had melted away any feelings of uncertainty she had had about his motives.

"Chris?" he asked softly; she nodded when she was addressed. "I need to ask a favor of you."

She nodded again, "Anything."

"Promise me you'll always be honest with me."

A bit taken back, Christie blinked and frowned, "Why wouldn't I be?"

Jaime's grin grew a little, and continued, "And...promise me that you won't think any less of me, no matter what I say or do."

She hesistated a bit, then replied, "I promise."

"Okay," he smiled, his voice still friendly but relieved. He then reached over and gingerly touched her face.

"You can ask me anything you want now," he said in a low whisper.

It was then she realized that she was trembling under his gentle touch; the sudden openness he was expressing was overwhelming, and she was silent, unsure of what she wanted to ask. Any questions she had for him had long been forgotten. He, however, seemed to expected that and leaned in, softly kissing her on the lips once then pulling away; his thumb continued to lightly stroke her cheek as he waited.

Finally, she closed her eyes and murmured, "Your name."

As she expected, he didn't answer. However, his hand remained resting on her cheek. She reopened her eyes, only to see that his smile had grown and broadened.

"Jin," he replied.

"What?"

"That's my name." He pulled his hand away and sat up; slowly, she did the same, surprised that he answered at all, and moreso at how frank he sounded. Absentmindedly, his hand when up to to his tattoo, and he rubbed it nervously, though he kept a relieved smile on his face.

Christie frowned, "How long have you been waiting to tell me that?"

"Since the day I met you."

Jaime glanced down and continued, "It's funny, really. I remember...spending a lot of time trying to figure out how to erase my existance off the planet, only to find that not only that I couldn't, but that I didn't want to." He looked back up, "I guess it's mostly because my mother told me on several occasions she wished I had never been born."

"...That's...horrible..." Christie stared wide-eyed at the older boy, mortified.

"It doesn't bother me any; besides, she's dead." He frowned and stopped kneading his arm then looked up. "She's a lot better off now. She was miserable and made everyone around her miserable. At least now, she's at peace with herself and the world."

"Well, still, to say something like that, it's just--" She stopped herself, not sure what to say or what to think. She knew exactly what she was feeling, though; it was something that was difficult to put into words. And Jaime's, or rather, Jin's nonchalant attitude was not helping the matter one bit.

His smile disappeared, and he looked Christie in the eye steadily, "My mother and I had an understanding: she didn't want me as her son, and I didn't want her as my mother."

"That's an understanding?" Christie's voice raised sharply, and she lifted a brow as she crossed her arms.

"Yes, for us it was."

"In that case...I guess there's no more reason to talk about that," the younger girl replied, her words nearly lost in her throat. Hastily, she jumped out of bed then stood up. "I need something to drink." She then strolled quickly to the door, taking care not to look at the older boy.

"Chris," Jin said as he stood up as well, crossing his arms. "I care about you. You know that, don't you?"

She stopped cold after he said that, unable to respond. Guilt washed over her; she glanced down to where her hand grasped the door knob, then she looked back up at the door, still searching for some kind of response. She honestly did want to listen, however, his voice and his face bothered her. It was almost as if she was talking to someone else, not her Jaime.

That was right. He wasn't Jaime. Jaime Chavez had never existed. Christie took a deep breath and turned the knob; there was no need in getting upset about something she always knew.

She kept her back to him, "I'm flattered." With that, she cracked the door, slipped out, then quickly latched it shut behind her.

******

They sat on either end of couch, both watching the little portable tv sittting on the floor play soap operas; clichéd stories of love at first sight and so on. Julia swung her legs to and fro, and her hands rested on her abdomen as she watched, not paying attention to what was going on yet still completely concentrating on the television set as she squinted from behind her glasses. Hwoarang yawned once and shoved his hands into his pockets, his face drawn down into a tired frown, frustrated as the picture fuzzed in and out.

And only a few hours ago, the picture had been completely clear.