Revised Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

When you live with a sociopath life isn't all bad. They can be incredibly charming, fun and sweet, you just have to know the cardinal signs for when to be wary. Justin hadn't made a single complaint that morning, in retrospect that should have been the first clue.

Though, to be truthful, even if he had been wary Finn wouldn't have initially questioned the scarf his brother was wearing to school that day. A scarf was just too ordinary. Justin was usually a step ahead of the fashion curve, a trend setter rather than a follower. Finn himself didn't usually bother. If it was reasonably clean and fit, then it was fine.

However, Justin was always trying out new fashions. Although setting trends wasn't really his thing, now that Finn really thought about it. While the younger brother did seem to care about trends and styles, it was more to see whom he could get to 'follow' him. He hated following others, that was what it boiled down to in the end. Justin was never looking out for the newest thing so much as he was constantly on the look out for his newest victim. Or rather, for something to amuse or entertain him.

"Did you do your homework?" Deann asked from the front passenger seat. Their foster mother didn't even flip the mirror up to ask the question, continuing applying her blue-sheened eye shadow even as they left their aging subdivision behind. Not a bad area, it held a good mixture of older couples and new young families just starting out. However, their family was neither and the two teenagers often seemed out of place among their neighbors.

"Of course, mama." Came Justin's smooth reply. Then he smiled and said "Homework Blues."

Finn didn't move except for a wry smile tilting up one corner of his mouth. "Shouldn't you have asked that last night, rather than on the way to school?" He didn't call her mama, she hadn't asked him to and he hadn't offered, despite having lived with her and her husband for just over three years. To his brother he just spoke blandly. "Blues mean something sad, but we did our homework."

Justin shrugged. "Homework Bliss doesn't work as a title." The two brothers had this ongoing game between the two of them for almost as long as either could remember.

"Don't be a smart ass, Finn." Deann twisted her mouth at her own small reflection in the car mirror, checking her teeth for lipstick as she ignored the boy's habitual game. "Did you really do your homework?"

Finn sighed and turned his head to look out the window, he knew what was coming.

"Finn?" His foster father growled from the driver's seat. "Homework?"

Homework? Was that really a priority? Finn yawned widely, having not slept well. Again. But his worries went a bit deeper than whether or not his social studies project was done. And not responding to Roger the first time he spoke was sheer habit.

"Finn!" Roger's impatience was showing.

The young sixteen year old nodded, not caring if they weren't looking at him as he spoke. "Yes, sir. All done." He'd been living in their house for three years as their foster child and they hadn't caught onto the fact that he almost always did his homework. School was a refuge for him, mostly. His grades may not be straight and perfect, but they certainly weren't terrible.

In fact, the boys' social worker was hopeful that Finn would become the first foster child from their county to graduate high school on time. The first. Despite being in America and the county being around for over two centuries, no kid 'in the system' had managed to graduate high school with their classmates. Oh sure, there were some GED go-getters and this didn't count the foster kids who'd actually been adopted or reunified with their biological families. However, no child before him had aged out of the foster care system and still managed to receive their high school diploma just like every other teen, and on time.

Today, in this moment, the thought failed to excite.

Finn watched as the scenery between what passed for a home and school roll by, pretty uninteresting stuff. A blend of small houses and trailers, even a falling down tobacco barn here and there. North Carolina roads always had a good mix. Here was a nice house with toys on the porch. There was a trailer with clothing hanging on a line outside right next to a small house in need of a good power wash, but with a spotless Lincoln parked in the front.

Finn would rather have been living in any one of them, rather than where the good state employees had deemed as suitable. Even the falling down tobacco shed with it's rotting boards and overgrown weeds. Not that Roger and Deann were terrible or even abusive, they weren't. But it wasn't a home.

"FINN!"

The teenager's smile had long since faded. "What?" He said rather dully, distracted by his wandering thoughts.

"Why did you make Justin do your homework as well as his own? He's younger than you! That is just the type of lazy-ass stupidity that I expect from a little thug like you." Deann seemed to be on a roll, and calling him little? He topped her by nearly six inches.

Oh boy. Finn tuned her out and instead cut his gaze over at a smug looking Justin. Homework? "Lame." He mouthed at his younger brother.

Justin's smile didn't dim. Finn paused. Scenarios went through his mind quickly. He could deny, but Justin was a very convincing liar while Finn was the quiet one often in trouble.

"Finn? Do me the respect of an answer!" Deann's voice sharpened further.

Well, he could suggest that they compare the homework itself. They'd find Finn's crappy penmanship on his math and his social studies project on the cheap flash drive they'd made his social worker buy him at the start of the school year. Ah. Unless ....His dark brown eyes narrowed, unless Justin had re-written the calculations in his own hand. Which he might have done. Finn's hand twitched, that was the math. What about his project? His fingers curled with the need to check his backpack for the flash drive. His project was due today and he couldn't believe he'd let down his guard long enough to be unsure if the device was still where it was supposed to be.

His younger brother's blue-green eyes sparkled, almost daring him to speak up for himself. Yeah, this had 'trap' written all over it. "Maybe Homework Blues is a good title after all." Justin drawled the words in an exaggerated manner.

Finn rolled his head, cracking his neck loudly, which he knew irritated Deann. "Whatever." The hell if he'd ever let her see his insecurities.

The boys' foster mother turned to glare at the duo in the back seat. She quickly smiled at Justin, revealing too-white teeth. Finn wondered how she'd paid for them, was it with state money the couple received for 'taking care' of the two brothers? Probably. His fingers itched at the thought. Never having any worth of his own, he usually hoarded what little he could earn or scrounge. Unlike Justin, who spent everything as fast as it came to him.

Deann's smile dimmed as she finally recognized the scarf that the younger boy was wearing. "Isn't that my Christmas present from my sister?"

And just like that, the subject of homework disappeared, as if the responsible parental question hadn't been all that important in the first place. Finn sneered, "You hate her anyway." 

But though the subject had now changed, he felt that certain twinge of uneasiness grow bigger. The homework was one thing, he'd spotted that trap. Now he too eyed his brother's scarf, wondering why he hadn't noticed sooner. What was the younger teen up to now? It wasn't cold this spring. No need for anything wrapped around the neck. Uh oh.

Finn closed his dark eyes briefly. He' really fallen down on the job this morning, not paying close enough attention. "The Great Scarf Caper?"

"Shut up, Finn!" Growled Roger from the front seat.

Justin shook his head, pursing his lips slightly. "Sounds like a Muppet movie or something. I prefer 'All In'."

"You've been watching too much poker on television." Finn said with a yawn.

Ignoring Roger had the usual effect. "I told you to shut up, mister! Or do you want me to make you shut up?"

Finn sometimes wondered if Roger even knew who he was. The man threatened a lot, but thankfully never followed through. He was basically all bark. His foster father worked as a mechanic, coming home to eat and watch televised sports. He was almost a caricature of a guy than a real person. The boys never saw much of him though.

The brothers never ate at the family table with the two adults, having their own area in the back of the house, eating at an old card table that wobbled. Their food in the pantry was even separate. Name brands taking up the most space, but with a corner stocked with generic products just for the boys.

The only time Finn really saw Roger was when he was being told off, usually with his back to him as he watched a race or a game. Finn gave a light snort, if anyone ever kidnapped Roger he knew he'd not be able to give an accurate description to the police artists. Though he could describe the back of the man's head extremely well. Finn turned to look back out the window again. It was better than describing the back of his hand, he supposed. As always, he reminded himself that it could be worse.

Deann and Roger sucked. They were generally cold and greedy people. But they fed the boys, mostly from the dollar menus at fast food chains, but also simple meals at home. Though Deann was often far too fond of garlic in her meatless spaghetti. The boys also had basic clothing, though nothing fancy unless it came from the local Good Will. Still, neither Deann nor Roger ever laid a hand on either one of them. As far as Finn was concerned, that was pretty damned good. Yeah, his pants were getting too short, again. So what? He was growing, not their fault.

Justin subtly elbowed his older brother, drawing Finn back to the current events. The fourteen year old didn't like not having an audience.

Finn sneered. He was good at sneering.

"But it's so soft, and it makes my eyes look bluer. And there's this girl in my class ..."

"Overdone." Finn commented as he rolled his eyes. "Bluer isn't a word anyway." His words drawing a dark look from good old foster mom.

"That's sweet, honey. But that's cashmere and I don't want you to take it to school. Look, this weekend I'll buy you your own scarf. Let you pick out just the right color and everything. How does that sound?" Deann tugged on the end of the scarf, while Justin looked sad.

Looked sad. Finn watched, his feelings of unease growing. Justin was never sad. Never. He had one basic emotion. Calculating. One. And despite any dictionary explaining to the contrary, calculating was an emotion for a certain type of individual. Apparently Deann didn't think Justin's act was overdone, more like well-done instead.

Then again, Justin was a complete pro at manipulation. And as his older brother, Finn knew why. He knew what his brother was, he'd seen enough cop shows on television.

His dear baby brother was a sociopath. And few could see it but him.

Finn eyed the younger boy, cataloging him coolly. Slender, but not scrawny. There was some strength there, and quite a bit of speed. Blonde hair waved around his face gently, reaching just past the bottoms of his ear lobes. Not straight and not curly all at the same time. Blue-green eyes, wide and innocent looking in an otherwise almost sharp-featured face. In fact, if it weren't for the eyes or the charm he exuded, Justin wouldn't be that handsome. Sleeping children are supposed to look like angels. Not Justin. Asleep, his features took on an edge, a feeling of disconnect, almost dangerous. Awake? He was the most charming creature on the planet.

Justin was a smooth liar, cruel and manipulative. He lacked any hint of remorse or empathy and he was extremely cunning. Finn had looked up the definition of a sociopath. Checkmarked down the line, Justin had displayed all of it at one point or another.

"But there's this girl I like ...." Again with the trail-off voice. Drawing a smile from poor Deann.

Finn wondered what dear foster mom, Deann, would think if she could see the dreams that Justin had of her. Ones that he'd detailed for his older brother at great length. The elder teen had let his fingernails cut into his palms to keep from reacting throughout most of it all.

Justin loved telling Finn about his 'dreams'. Which was more in line with wish-fulfillment fantasies. Finn had long ago learned not to react too horrified by his baby brother's thoughts. It only served to escalate Justin's behaviors, to feed his moods.

Finn wanted to tell them. He wanted to tell the police that Justin was lying about the cat's untimely demise. He wanted to tell them that his brother was blaming him for the small fires that had been set around their old neighborhood. And he really wanted to tell them about the small, and big, cruelties and how it was getting worse every year.

But each time he opened his mouth, he stopped. More specifically, he was physically stopped. Dead cold.

A cold way beyond ice or snow. That's what he felt when he tried to speak about Justin or his actions. He couldn't readily describe the terrible feeling of dread, the shuddering breath-stealing feeling of impending death. It wasn't like a sudden temperature drop, it was if he himself was the cause of the chilling freeze. Something deep within him would just explode outwards, filling his whole body. And at that point, he couldn't make a sound.

Once, at the police station, he'd tried. He'd tried to push past that cold feeling and Finn thought he had never been closer to actual death in his life. His hands and feet, already numb with cold, had felt ...alien. As if they were disappearing from his body. He had been able to see them, but he could no longer get them to operate. His lungs had felt like blocks of ice that wouldn't move, he hadn't been able to breathe at all for a few excruciating seconds. It had taken three hours of complete silence before he'd even begun to feel normal again and take a breath without pain. Five hours before he could speak normally. And none of which he could talk about or describe, not without being able to speak. None of which amused the police or Department of Social Services people at all.

He'd never tried to explain Justin to anyone again. The mere memory made his lungs ache.

Though, there was one exception in his life. Two really. But they didn't count. And why he could tell them and no one else? He had a theory. Maybe because they saw Justin as he really was too. Maybe because they already knew, he could talk to them. Sousa and Mac. They'd be no help in this situation though.

"Let me have that, and we'll go shopping tonight."

Deann smiled, as Finn turned back to the conversation. Tonight? What happened to this weekend? Yeah, Justin happened. Charming bastard. Finn looked back out the car window. They were about half-way to school, stopped at a light and surrounded by orange barrels not too far from the hospital entrance. They were widening the road out here, to make things easier. In the meantime, all the drivers suffered. All the drivers and also all their passengers.

Roger cursed under his breath. The same words that had gotten Finn into in-school suspension last semester. Life wasn't fair. The light turned green, but the cars didn't move forward. Finn strained to look without opening his window. Oh. Construction vehicles, backing up into the only open lanes, men with red signs keeping drivers at bay. Roger cursed some more. Finn listened, but heard no new words that he didn't already know.

"What's that bruise?" Deann's voice had turned brittle with suspicion.

Finn felt himself stiffen. He didn't want to look, he didn't want to look. He stared out the window at stupid orange barrels as Justin expertly spun a tale. The fourteen year old hemmed and hawed and appeared reluctant to speak, not wanting to get 'someone' in trouble.

"You didn't have that last night when you went to bed." Finn could feel accusatory eyes upon him all without looking. Deann, he was sure, was staring. Hell, Roger was probably even looking in the rear-view mirror at him. Finn forced himself to remain calm, still. Like a prey animal just praying the predator wasn't terribly hungry.

Deann gave a huge put-upon sigh. "Did your brother do that to you?"

Finn felt his eyes drying as he tried hard not to even blink.

"No ...no." Justin spoke soothingly. The same tone of voice Finn had heard his brother use on the neighbor's new dog. His jaw started to ache now too, in an effort not to talk. "It was ...an accident ...really." Justin continued.

Finn finally turned and looked, he couldn't help himself. A livid bruise was around his brother's throat. Finn could tell that Deann was suspicious of him by the look she gave him, but no matter how she tried, she couldn't pin Justin down to a solid explanation.

The older boy wanted to tell her to give up, better trained therapists had tried and failed to get a straight answer from Justin. Yet all believed him. They always believed him. Justin was a better actor than the guy who'd won the Oscar that year.

"What the hell did you do to your brother?" Deann snapped at Finn, obviously unable to get an answer from the younger boy.

Finn met her gaze head on, knowing what she saw when she looked at him. She told him often enough. A loser.

Dark, brown hair fell over his eyes. It was basically straight but with the hint of a wave. It was too long really, but the state provided therapists had told Deann and Roger that it was okay to give the boys a sense of control in their lives by allowing them to choose their own hairstyles. Something to help them feel more at ease in their new foster home. Justin's hair made him look sweet and open. Finn's was more of an effort to hide himself, falling into his face at almost any opportunity.

Behind the hair he had brown eyes surrounded by the only part of him that was truly handsome, dark lush lashes that even Justin was envious of. His rather thin lips fell into his habitual sneer.

"I've grown another inch." Finn verbally avoided the question. "Need new pants." He didn't really expect that to work.

"Lame distraction." Whispered Justin, covering his face with one hand and giving a light cough.

Deann narrowed her eyes on Finn and he wanted to tell her that her blue-sheen eye shadow was darker on the left side than it was on the right. "Did you leave that bruise on Justin?"

The youth eyed her carefully and then slowly shook his head, gritting his teeth. It didn't matter what he said. Justin had implied it was him, and that was enough.

"Liar." Deann hissed at him. She turned to the younger boy, and her look softened. She actually smiled with encouragement. "You know, we can call your social worker. There are a lot of good therapeutic homes in Raleigh."

Justin's blue-green eyes went cool for a second, making Deann stop, suddenly unsure. Then the boy smiled and let his lips tremble a second, the moment passing as if it had never been. "Finn didn't hurt me, I swear. I don't want to leave you."

The teen under fire sunk down in his seat as far as the seat belt allowed. He closed his eyes as he listened to poor Deann being manipulated by an expert.

"You wouldn't have to leave us, sweetie." Cooed the woman. "And Finn would be perfectly happy in Raleigh with some good opportunities. I know your social worker doesn't want to separate you two, but this could be better for the both of you."

True. It would be nice to get away for a while, let someone else see the monster that was Justin, at least some of the time. Let someone else be his victim, and not take the blame for it all.

"Noooo ...." Justin played pitiful, his hand going out to catch Finn's. The older boy yanked his own hand away, drawing another angry look from their foster mother.

"I can't be without Finn! He's my brother! The only family I have!" Justin's voice rose dramatically.

Finn opened his eyes, turning to stare at Justin now. This was new. Just what was his baby brother planning? Rising emotion? What was the play?

"I can't be without him! I won't!" Justin slipped out of his seat agilely, throwing open the car door before racing off down the side of the busy road, back the way they had come.

Roger started cursing like a mad man, but was unable to turn around in the heavy traffic jam. Stuck. "Go after him!" He yelled at his wife.

Deann was tearing up, looking worried and harassed all at the same time. "I'll never catch him! Finn! Go get your brother! What the hell are you waiting for? He could get hurt out there!"

Not likely. "I'd worry more about the world getting hurt by him, not what could happen to him."

"FINN!"

The sixteen year-old rolled his eyes and undid his seat belt, wondering if either parent had bothered to think on how Justin could have possibly gotten away so fast. He had to have had the seat belt off already. Would they think of that? No.

"I can't be late to work, Deann!" Roger was fuming, his hands showing white knuckles around the steering wheel. "This is all your fault young man!"

"Always is." Finn slid out toward the same door his brother had used.

The foster mother smiled weakly, waving a hand at her irate husband. "Just get him back and bring him to the house. I'll call the school."

Finn climbed out at an even pace, managing to shut the car door without slamming it. He left his school backpack in the vehicle, it didn't look like he'd make his Social Studies presentation today after all. Idly he wondered if his project was even in with his stuff, or had it been tampered with or destroyed? He strode down the side of the road, seemingly without hurry, slouching a bit and appearing like he had no cares in the world.

Deann rolled down the window and shouted for him to run. Finn never missed a step, nor hurried. There was no need. Justin never put himself in danger. Sociopath that he was, the boy didn't like pain at all. Not when directed at him. Finn knew Justin was fine, and probably waiting for him.

What a way to ditch school. Finn sighed and kept walking. Waiting for his brother to reveal himself.

His brother. Yeah. Justin only claimed the relationship when it was prudent for him. When he wanted something, or when he needed to blame things on someone.

The two boys had been found, abandoned together. Finn had been a two year old, crying and cold with badly cut up feet from the rough gravel. Justin had been wrapped up in warm blankets, crying but unhurt.

They'd been together ever since. Called brothers, but looking completely different as night and day. The state had separated them before, but with ill effects. Apparently Finn would 'shut down' as a small toddler, without Justin around. Almost becoming catatonic.

Conversely, Justin would scream and scream until Finn entered the room, the only one able to calm the infant. The state, not liking problems had figured that the boys should remain together. They'd been declared brothers on paper, and that was the final word as far as the good state of North Carolina went.

In and out of foster care. That was a popular catch phrase on all the legal shows on television. Finn knew this, because he watched them all. And just about any time there was a perpetrator, there was that phrase. In and out of foster care.

Finn sneered. Yeah. He knew quite a few kids in the system. They'd come in scared and few ever stopped being scared. Their parents would pull it together for a while and they'd leave all excited. Until they came back, looking haunted or lost. Again and again. Yet no matter how bad it was at home, that's where they all wanted to return. Home. A few got lucky though, like Sousa and Mac. Adopted or reunited with families able to keep it together. Those weren't the norm, though.

Not that the state social workers didn't bother trying. Over the years, attempts had been made at introducing the boys together or separately to possible adoptive families. Some test weekends had even been arranged. Nothing had ever come of it. And now both boys were of an age to say whether or not they wanted to be adopted.

Justin always said 'no' but never explained, not even to his brother, driving his social workers insane. On the other hand, Finn wanted to say yes, but never felt comfortable with any of the possible families. Though the number of families looking into adoption had dropped considerably with each passing birthday. Few would even look at taking on older teen boys.

In and out of foster care. The dark-haired teen sighed. He and Justin didn't have a family to go 'out' with. They'd gone into foster care, and had stayed there. And would stay there. Until they aged out. Or until Justin killed someone and Finn went to jail for the crime.

Something Finn knew was a good possibility.

All because he couldn't stand up for himself. Not against Justin. Though no one else could push him around. He was tall for his age, often being mistaken for eighteen. He had broad shoulders and a naturally muscular build that didn't come from working out, but from nature and working manually whenever he could manage. Nothing overblown, just solid. If he weren't such a discipline 'problem' then he'd be a great fit for sports.

And he liked sports for the most part, though the few times Finn had tried out for anything, Justin had pulled some sort of stunt. Vandalism. Fires. It didn't matter. And while nothing could prove that Finn was behind these events, there was usually a lot of adult suspicion. Enough to force him out of extracurricular activities and back ...to Justin.

Not that Justin loved his 'brother'. No. The fourteen year old loved no one and nothing. He was incapable, as far as Finn could see. He needed Finn for some unknown reason. Just as the older boy couldn't tell anyone about his brother's aberrant behaviors without going 'cold'. Justin had to have Finn somewhere around, and that dependency did not make the younger teen very happy.

At least things had improved from since they were very young. Now Finn could be in another classroom, or in another school. Justin didn't scream and cry at the small separations anymore. But there was no way in hell that the sociopath would let the state send Finn to Raleigh. So Justin had to have Finn, and it angered the younger teen.

Finn figured Justin pretty much hated him. And the younger brother had talked endlessly about wanting to be alone. Yet. Separation between the brothers was something Justin tried to avoid at all cost.

"Yo."

Finn looked around. He'd walked up to the tree lined entrance of the urgent care center in front of the local hospital. He never could wrap his head around why there was an urgent care facility only a couple hundred feet away from the entrance to the hospital's emergency room. You had to love Eastern North Carolina he guessed. Just like when there were picturesque tobacco sheds with rotting boards next to houses costing more than the president made in a year.

"What was that about?" Finn asked without inflection. "Ten Ways to Ditch?"

"Stupid title. No, more along the lines of 'Missing Math Tests'." Justin yawned and started walking, Finn followed. Like he always did, despite being older. "Or how about, 'Justin is Bored'. You can thank me now."

"That bruise, I thought you were going to give Deann a heart attack." Finn said quietly, exaggerating. Justin loved praise. And Finn liked a pleased Justin, it made life easier. "We can call that one 'Send Finn to Prison?' Right?"

The younger boy grinned darkly, but kept walking.

"Did you touch my Social Studies project?" Finn asked with faked casualness. He'd put in two whole nights working on that thing. It was supposed to take at least two weeks, but while the sixteen year-old had done the work, he hadn't found it interesting enough to do much more than was barely necessary.

"Maybe." Justin smiled sweetly and with an open face without any hint of guile. "Or, if you want a title for this one, how about 'Corrupted'."

"Shit." Finn sighed, glad he'd gotten a back-up flash drive from Sousa last semester. One that his brother didn't know about. Because he was positive his brother wasn't lying.

"I want a drink."

Finn nodded, slouching somewhat to lessen his height, his hand going into his jeans pockets. "No money."

"I have drink money." Justin's smile grew.

Surprised, the older boy shook his head. "Huh? How?" He and his brother were foster children, wards of the state. Free lunch and breakfast at school. Only dinner was supplied by good ol' Deann and Roger. Until the summers, when they had to hear the complaints about how much the two of them were eating. Seriously? How much could white bread and off-brand deli meats packed in artificial coloring cost?

"I told Deann that I wanted to buy this certain girl a drink at lunch today. That she was so sweet and pretty, and that ...hey, she looked a bit like Deann! Could I? Please? Please?"

"She fell for that?"

Justin turned smug. "Don't try it, that wouldn't work for you."

True. Finn shrugged. "Is there a girl?" He asked, morbidly curious.

The younger teen gave him a sarcastic look and raised his eyebrows. "Janet bought me a drink yesterday. Saralynn traded me her soda for my milk the day before. And Mrs. Blount slipped me a dollar on Monday."

Finn stared, truly impressed, though a bit disturbed at how easily his younger brother could manipulate just about anyone. "Mrs. Blount hated me." He commented.

Justin laughed slightly. "You exaggerate."

Chuckling dryly, the older teen shook his head. "Naw. Remember? She was my teacher the year you kept breaking all my pencils before school. Took the markers and singed the tips? She'd lent me those. Thought I was being disrespectful to her school supplies. No lie, she hated me."

The blonde tilted his head, his eyes looking more green than blue at the moment. "Oh, I forgot about that."

Silence fell over the duo as they cut through the trees and down a steep embankment, struggling to keep their balance and not run down the incline to the bottom. Heading for the local D and L gas station by unspoken agreement.

"You shouldn't have opened Riley's fence." Justin finally commented as the boys made their way past one of the local funeral homes, the one catering to the more middle income families.

"Creepy place." Finn tried to distract his brother with another conversation tactic. "How many dead bodies in there right now?"

It didn't work.

"Riley is a beautiful Shepherd. So friendly." Justin continued without determent.

Finn shrugged, not bothering to deny the charge, though admitting to nothing. The shepherd was indeed an absolutely beautiful animal. And he'd wanted it to stay that way. Which is why Riley was now 'missing', to keep the dog away from the neighborhood sociopath.

Justin turned to walk backwards, his earlier humor having evaporated in only an instant. Changeable blue-green eyes glared at Finn. "I wasn't going to hurt it, you know."

No, he didn't know. But it had made him sick inside thinking about the ways his sweet little brother could have tortured that animal. He grunted. "Him, not it."

"Why hasn't it returned home?" Justin asked smoothly, even as he turned to walk forward again. The boys moved on down toward the gas station ahead of them. "You'd think he'd go back to where he was being fed."

  

Finn was admitting to nothing. He merely shrugged. "New home, he may have gone back to his original home. Big, but still basically a puppy at a year old." He waited, seeing if his brother was going to let the matter drop. He kept his expression neutral. He was no where near as fine an actor as his brother, but he could stonewall well.

"Riley Come Home." Justin mused. "Waiting for Riley?"

Finn shrugged off the titles. "Sounds more like tween reading material than movies."

"Hardly." Justin shook his head. "Godot. As in waiting for ... as in the play?"

Finn looked blank and his younger brother sighed with patently false despondency. "You are classically under-educated if you haven't read that one.

"You haven't read it." Finn took a shot in the dark, one that his younger brother didn't deny. "Play? You heard about it from someone else. Probably Saralynn since she's into community theater and stuff."

Justin sighed as they crossed through the nearly empty gas lanes, glancing idly at the one middle-aged woman pumping gas. She gave the boys a look as if to say she knew they were ditching school. But she didn't say anything. Other than that, there was only one other car pulled up to a pump, no one inside. A beat up old economy class car that was too cheap to be either US or Japanese made. Some other country had tried their hand at making a cheaper vehicle. More than a few had even sold.

Justin laughed, jerking his head over to the poor car. "Wussy cat inside. Male or female, don't know yet. No credit, has to pre-pay."

"Male." Finn said, spying the camouflage duffel in the back. He didn't bother to argue his brother's snap judgment anymore, it wasn't worth the aggravation. Especially if he was ever proven right. That only pissed off Justin further.

The younger teen grunted. "Good call." He said, but his eyes narrowed, he didn't like to be shown up. Finn silently pushed open the door to the gas station convenience store, but let his brother go first. Finn always let him go first. It was never a good idea to let Justin be at your back, even when his brother was in a fun loving mood. His moods could change instantly, and the older boy knew it was always more prudent to have his brother where he could see him.

Finn stepped inside behind his brother, blinking his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light inside the store. Justin had stopped in front of him, dead in the middle of the walk way and was blocking the aisle. "Move." He grunted.

"Shut up!"

The harsh voice had Finn's eyes snapping up and away from his brother's back. He stared over the shorter boy's shoulder.

Gun.

Dark eyes widened as his mind raced. Finn knew it was fear and his own mind tricking him that made the barrel of the gun look as large as his head. Realistically he could even see the man holding it was shaking, his face hidden behind a yellow and maroon mask. Idly he wondered if the robber had tried to find a black one, or had gone with whatever had been on hand. Yellow was an odd color for a robber, wasn't it?

"Don't move!" The man yelled, snapping the teen back to the immediacy of the situation.

Finn's hands had been automatically rising, but stalled at the man's shouted command.

The clerk, now behind the man's back, let his hand slip down below the counter. The robber must have caught the movement in one of the mirrors hung around the store to prevent theft. Because he spun in a panic and shot the clerk in the head without preamble.

Blood sprayed the junk food display next to the counter, the color glaring garishly on the plastic wrapper of the white snack cakes on display. The man collapsed with a sick thud to the floor as the robber started cursing and banging on the cash register with the butt of his gun.

"You shot him before he could open that?" Justin's voice dripped with disgust, apparently not even phased by the level of violence and blood already in evidence. Sociopath that he was, the younger boy knew no fear.

Finn caught his breath as the attention, and the gun, spun back around to point at the two of them. Or at Justin. Who was daredevil enough to try something stupid.

For a long delicious moment, preternaturally longer than reality, Finn thought about what life would be like if Justin died. Shot in a botched robbery at a convenience store.

Justin gone. No more falling asleep in class because you were up all night, unable to sleep in case your little brother decided to cut up your sheets because of something petty. No more having people question you about bruises on your younger brother when he'd gotten them by doing something to himself, or having Finn drag him away from hurting someone else. Or waking up in the middle of the night with no clue where Justin was, or what he was doing, worried you might smell smoke. No more. No more.

For the first time in his life, Finn could taste freedom. And there was no rush of dead cold to stop him. He didn't even have to do anything, say anything. It was all right before him. Did it make him a bad person to think like this? Probably.

As his thoughts raced, a delicious heat bloomed in the center of his belly, filling him with excess energy. For a blessed second he reveled in the feeling of sheer strength, though he hadn't moved at all. He felt vital and alive in a way he'd never thought possible. The heat was filling him up, but wasn't burning him. Not yet. His inner temperature kept rising and the strength welling up within him kept growing, making his skin itch and crawl with the need to move. Finn's eyes widened as he could have sworn he even caught a whiff of something singed.

As cold as he felt when he tried to speak out against Justin, this was the opposite. Fire poured through his veins, the urge to move making his nerves ache with the need to do something, anything. Strength burst through him as his lungs expanded of their own accord and he took in one long breath. It was if an invisible line of flames flowed down his throat and burst out through his entire body. He didn't even think about it as his right hand rose in front of him and caught Justin's left shoulder.

But instead of a quiet signal to remain still and not to aggravate the man with the weapon, Finn pulled first, drawing the fourteen year old to one side as if he weighed nothing and then shoving him away. Hard.

Shocked at his own actions, he saw Justin about fly across the store to his right, slamming into a refrigerated case with a sickening crunch. The fourteen year old slumped to the ground. Blue-green eyes turning to stare right into Finn's own dark gaze even as the sound of the gun echoed in the small store.

It wasn't that the man missed. It was that it didn't matter. Finn felt the punch of the bullet hit him wide on the right side. Right where Justin had been standing but a moment ago.

Pain didn't reach him, not through the sensation of heat. But his eyesight did go suddenly gray. Colors bled away in an instant as he saw layer after layer of this store, and other strange places, all in a pale gray wash that appeared translucent. There were even glimpses of an open field, or some trees. People or things moving around. Indistinct. Ghosts maybe? He was probably dying after all. Was this what those paranormal shows on television called passing over? It all looked so normal somehow. Not heaven, not something with flames or bitter cold. Just colorless and see-through. Something deep inside him seemed to reach out for all that gray, finding comfort and escape there.

No! He didn't want to die! A small rational part of his mind flinched, repelled not by what he was seeing but by the thought of giving up. He was not going to die here, not now, not when he'd never gotten to travel. Not when he'd never gotten a chance to really live! Like two sides of magnets that flew violently away from each other instead of towards, instinct gave way to conscious thought. He ripped himself away from the lure of the gray worlds before him. Colors snapped back into focus as he spun with the impact of the bullet, almost turning in a full circle. He used the momentum to surge forward. A second shot, but this one really did go wide as Finn wrapped his hands around the man's throat.

The acrid scent of things burning teased his senses even as grim dark eyes met frightened dark eyes with huge pupils. Fingers tightened even as a hand with the gun came up and slammed against the side of Finn's head. The world spun, making him feel a sharp dizziness, but he didn't release his grip. There was nausea rising up in him and he had to swallow hard to keep it together. The smell of burned gunpowder and a throbbing in his side only added to his determination not to let go, not to get shot again.

Strangely dulled noises barely made an impact on the young teen even as he felt the man's throat give sickeningly beneath his hands as if something broke. He'd never felt this strong in his entire life. The man beneath him was now slamming his hands against the floor, almost like in a wrestling match. The signal for giving up. Almost idly the teen wondered where the sounds had gone. It was like watching a movie on soft mute, not completely silent but unable to make out the details.

Hands grabbed at his arms, and it never occurred to him that the man had released the gun, not then. All he knew was that he couldn't let go. He literally couldn't. Finn's fingers seemed locked and determined, with the furious heat within him still raging.

It seemed like forever before other hands appeared. Hands that pulled at him, trying to yank him away, prying at his fingers. Finn resisted out of instinct, still unable to make himself let go. The hands became stronger as more of them appeared, though the shouting seemed to be miles away though he was distantly aware that someone was yelling. His fingers cramped as those hands pulled at him, pulling him away even as the heat within him began to fade, sliding away like the pull of the tide. With it went his strength, and his resolution of purpose. Finn's fingers finally went slack as he fell backwards, suddenly too weak to hold himself upright.

A man in a blue uniform helped him to sit up, or Finn knew he would have fallen. Blue? Cops. Shit. Finn's experiences with cops was not good.

But the man holding him semi-upright wasn't being rough as he laid Finn down on the floor of the convenience store, even using a jacket to pillow his head while someone pressed something against his side. Shouldn't his side hurt more?

Words echoed around in his mind. Shot. Hurt. Hero. Hero? He blinked and turned his head wincing as he caught the stench of something badly singed. Vaguely he wondered if seeing bags of chips blackening as their packaging melted was the start of an hallucination. Had someone sedated him? Could policemen do that or did they have to wait for paramedics?

"Don't ..." Finn coughed, not able to squeeze the word out as he sneezed rapidly four times in succession instead, his mouth and nose feeling achingly dry. It didn't really matter if he couldn't talk, though. He wasn't sure what he was going to say. Don't call him a hero? Maybe. Especially since he'd actually contemplated how much better his life would be without his younger brother. That didn't make anyone a 'hero', by any stretch of the imagination.

Brother. Finn forced his drooping eyelids back open as he searched the surroundings for his brother. It didn't take long. To his right Justin was standing to one side, out of the way. The younger teen was clutching his shoulder and bleeding slightly from a long scrape along his temple. The brothers stared at one another. Finn's eyes wide and clouding, while Justin's simply looked cold.

So. Justin was alive and basically unhurt. He felt relieved, and even a bit disappointed. Finn closed his eyes, swallowing the shame of wishing hurt upon anyone else.

Dulled noises suddenly shrieked in his ears and he cried out, pushing away at the hands holding on to him. Finn realized that his hearing had been squashed somehow, maybe from the gunshot or blood loss, what did he know? But now it had returned and it wasn't a comfortable feeling. Nausea roiled up within him as he struggled to open his eyes again, only to fail as he slipped away into the dark, unable to fight the overwhelming sense of fatigue.

His last thought as he faded was that he was glad it was dark, recognizing it as unconsciousness, and not the gray places. Not death.