Fic: My Heart Nearer to Thee (11/15)
Title: My Heart Nearer to Thee
Rating: PG
Warnings: character death
Summary: When Phoebe's husband and son are abducted to a dangerous alternate universe, the sisters must travel across reality to save them.
*****
After she ran away from Josh, and the hulking demons guarding him, Paxton wandered around the Underworld for a while. After getting out of the area where Josh was being held (it was shielded, presumably to keep the boy from escaping), she shimmered around the Underworld, never staying in one place for very long.
She couldn't stay still; Josh's voice still echoing in her mind. She'd heard the boy calling out to her as she'd fled the cavern, but she'd been too scared to turn around. She just blocked out the fearful sound of his voice and ran, chased by broken fragments of memories, and her own guilt at leaving him behind.
'I'm sorry,' she thought, her eyes brimming with tears as Josh's face swam in her mind's eye. The boy probably hated her, not that she blamed him; she'd hate anyone who left her to rot in Hell, too. She sank down on a rock, wrapping her arms around her waist as the tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
But, just as quickly as the tears had appeared, she dashed them away with the back of her hand. She didn't understand why she was crying over some boy that she'd only known for a few minutes, didn't understand why she cared what he thought of her. He was just some random child; he had no power, no prestige, nothing to mark him as important, as she had been taught to recognize such things. And yet, it hurt to think that Josh could by angry at her for leaving him.
'Stop your useless sniveling, girl.' Her grandmother's voice rang, unbidden in her ears, her eyes cold and hard in her memory. 'Emotions are a weakness you can ill afford. Especially with your - taint.'
Tainted. The word her grandmother spit out, disgustedly, every time the subject of Paxton's mixed heritage came up. Whitelighters were the enemy, Paxton knew that as easily as she breathed, but she couldn't help being who she was. It wasn't her fault that her mother had been a Whitelighter, or part Whitelighter, or whatever the hell she'd been. But, no one in her family could seem to see it that way, and only her father acted like it didn't bother him, having a daughter with the blood of the enemy.
'But,' Paxton thought, bitterly, 'that's probably only because Grandmother is still mad at him for getting involved with my mother in the first place, and he wants to piss her off.'
Paxton winced as she inadvertently called her faint memories of her mother to mind. She remembered Josh's confusion as he'd asked if her mother loved her, and her anger when she'd informed him that her mother had abandoned her. And she had, Paxton was sure of it. She'd probably taken one look at her demon-tainted child and, with her holier-than-thou Whitelighter attitude, had decided that she didn't want to waste her time. After all, why else wouldn't she be involved in her daughter's life?
'I'm better off without her,' Paxton thought, repeating the phrase that had been her mantra for as long as she could remember.
It was the only thing her father would say, every time she'd asked about her mother when she was younger. That her mother was weak, and that she'd abandoned them, and that they were better off without her. Eventually, she'd just learned to stop asking. The problem was, she couldn't stop remembering.
There was nothing concrete in her memories; only fragments that she wasn't sure were even real. The sound of bright laughter, the feeling of being swept up in a hug, the smell of chocolate chip pancakes (which she snuck above-world at least once a week to try and find; they were the guilty pleasure her father never needed to know about). A strange feeling in her chest - in her heart, if she was being honest - that was at times both terrifying and comforting when it struck her. She'd never felt anything like it, before - except that she had to have, otherwise how could she know what it felt like?
There was a part of her that hated the memories, hated how they made her feel. And another, smaller part that longed to feel that way all the time. But, it was impossible. There was no warmth to be found in the Underworld, and she would have no welcome above.
'Unless Josh was telling the truth,' a little voice whispered in the back of her mind. 'If he does come from a better world, if his family really would accept me-'
She shook that thought off, though. If a better world really did exist, the kind of world that her mother had lived in, the likes of her had no place in it. She was the scion of the Long clan; the sooner she remembered that, the better.
'Is this how all Whitelighters feel?' she thought, frustrated with herself. 'Do they experience this confusion and turmoil all the time?'
If they did, she didn't like it. And not for the first time, she wished that she could just do away with her Whitelighter side. It had brought her nothing but grief, and pain, and scorn from her fellow demons. How could she possibly be strong, when part of her was only dragging her down?
"There you are; I've been looking all over for you!"
Paxton jumped at the voice from behind her, twisting around to shoot a glare over her shoulder at the figure approaching her. Then, she turned back around and hugged her knees to her chest, ignoring her intruder. Unfortunately, he didn't seem very inclined to ignore her.
"Go away, Hugo," she said, flatly, getting a snort of laughter from the older boy.
"That's not very nice of you," Hugo scolded, as he sat down on the rock behind her.
Hugo was the closest she had to a friend down here. The older boy hadn't been living in the Underworld as long as she had, about two years. He didn't talk much about his time in the above world, only that he owed his life to Vicus, the demon that had brought him into the Underworld.
Pax had first met him a few days after he'd arrived to the Underworld, when he'd managed to get on the wrong side of Brenna and her gang, a bunch of arrogant brats who'd been convinced that they were better than Vicus's new, half-breed pet. Pax had gotten in the middle, and while they hadn't been afraid of her, they'd certainly been afraid of her father's wrath, and they'd backed off. Pax had used that fear to let everyone in the area know to keep their hands off Hugo, and they'd bonded as the only half demons in a world of pure-blooded power plays.
She liked Hugo. He was smart, funny, and for the most part, he didn't get on her nerves. Except when he did things like try to push her off her rock.
The rock she was sitting on wasn't very big, and so he wound up shoving at her back with his shoulders until she gave up enough ground that he had a place to sit. His back pressed against hers, a warm, solid presence, and she could feel his muscles shifting under his skin as he moved, restlessly.
"Sit still," she finally snapped, craning her head around briefly to shoot him an irritated look. "Why do you always have to squirm around like that?"
"Why, Cheryl," Hugo said, a droll tone in his voice, "you're in fine form, today."
"Shut up," Paxton said, without heat. "I am not turning into my grandmother."
"And here I thought you'd be happy to hear that," Hugo told her, sounding surprised. "You're living up to your name, peace-child."
"I said, shut up," Paxton muttered, hunching further over her knees. "And, you're one to talk, bright of spirit." As much as she hated her Whitelighter side, there were days when she hated her name even more. What kind of demon could she be with a name that meant peace?
"I told you," Hugo said, easily, not bothered by her mocking of his name, "we'll be freaks, together."
"I don't want to be a freak with you," she muttered, rebelliously. After a moment, she asked, softly, "Hugo, do you think there's a better world out there?"
"Better, how?" Hugo asked. "Haven't you noticed that we're living in the lap of luxury, down here?" His words were carefully chosen, but she could hear a faint thread of sarcasm underneath.
"Better as in sunshine, laughter, happiness-"
"Good?" Hugo interrupted her, dryly.
"Fine, yes," Paxton conceded, "a good world. Do you think that there is such a thing?"
"You've seen Good, you know it exists," Hugo said, sounding surprised. "But, what does that have to do with you? Why do you care?"
"I met this boy," Paxton said, hesitantly, and then she paused. She trusted Hugo, as much as any of them could trust another, down in Hell. But, she wasn't sure if she could trust him with this.
"You mean the Seer's newest captive?" Hugo asked, when she fell silent. "Half the local Underworld knows that she's holding some witch-child as part of some vendetta plot. It's not like she's been particularly subtle about it."
"Oh, hello, Vicus," Paxton mocked, elbowing Hugo in the back. "You're in fine form, today."
"Oh, shut up," Hugo retorted, at the mention of his mentor. "He's right, though. The Source and her sister rule through power, not finesse. Their reign will never last."
"You're rambling," Paxton told him.
"Okay, fine," Hugo shot back, "we'll get back to your topic of choice. What do you want with the Seer's captive?"
"I went to see him," Paxton confessed, and Hugo shook his head in silent exasperation. "The Seer took him to try and get back at his family. They're looking for him."
"I repeat," Hugo said, patiently, "what does that have to do with you?"
"He offered to take me with him," Paxton told him, in a small voice. "To live with his family in his better world."
"Lies," Hugo snorted, derisively. "He's just trying to lure you into some kind of a trap."
And that's what Paxton thought, what all of her instincts had been telling her. And, yet…
"He's just a kid," Paxton protested, and behind her, she could feel Hugo jerk his shoulders in a shrug.
"So?" he returned. "You can't deny that it's not exactly what you would do, in his place."
"Well, yeah," she replied, slowly, "but Good doesn't think the same way that we do. I think he really meant it."
"Do you want to go?" Hugo asked, his tone carefully guarded.
"I don't know," Paxton said, softly. "Maybe."
"You're an idiot," Hugo pointed out. "You're going to go help this kid escape, aren't you?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "Maybe." She hesitated, and then plunged ahead. "Are you going to stop me?"
"If you want to be stupid," Hugo remarked, "it's no business of mine. Besides," he added, in an almost grudging tone, "we freaks have to stick together, remember?"
"Come with me," Paxton offered, impulsively, but Hugo shook his head.
"Can't," he said, shortly, his voice tight. "I've got no one but Vicus. Unlike you, I remember what life is like up there, and there's nothing left for me up there." He fell silent for a long minute, and then went on, "But, I'll draw the guards away, if you want. For as long as I can."
"Thanks," Paxton said, smiling slightly.
"I still think you're an idiot," Hugo told her. "But, if there really is a better world out there, I think you should try to find it."
Continued here
Rating: PG
Warnings: character death
Summary: When Phoebe's husband and son are abducted to a dangerous alternate universe, the sisters must travel across reality to save them.
*****
After she ran away from Josh, and the hulking demons guarding him, Paxton wandered around the Underworld for a while. After getting out of the area where Josh was being held (it was shielded, presumably to keep the boy from escaping), she shimmered around the Underworld, never staying in one place for very long.
She couldn't stay still; Josh's voice still echoing in her mind. She'd heard the boy calling out to her as she'd fled the cavern, but she'd been too scared to turn around. She just blocked out the fearful sound of his voice and ran, chased by broken fragments of memories, and her own guilt at leaving him behind.
'I'm sorry,' she thought, her eyes brimming with tears as Josh's face swam in her mind's eye. The boy probably hated her, not that she blamed him; she'd hate anyone who left her to rot in Hell, too. She sank down on a rock, wrapping her arms around her waist as the tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
But, just as quickly as the tears had appeared, she dashed them away with the back of her hand. She didn't understand why she was crying over some boy that she'd only known for a few minutes, didn't understand why she cared what he thought of her. He was just some random child; he had no power, no prestige, nothing to mark him as important, as she had been taught to recognize such things. And yet, it hurt to think that Josh could by angry at her for leaving him.
'Stop your useless sniveling, girl.' Her grandmother's voice rang, unbidden in her ears, her eyes cold and hard in her memory. 'Emotions are a weakness you can ill afford. Especially with your - taint.'
Tainted. The word her grandmother spit out, disgustedly, every time the subject of Paxton's mixed heritage came up. Whitelighters were the enemy, Paxton knew that as easily as she breathed, but she couldn't help being who she was. It wasn't her fault that her mother had been a Whitelighter, or part Whitelighter, or whatever the hell she'd been. But, no one in her family could seem to see it that way, and only her father acted like it didn't bother him, having a daughter with the blood of the enemy.
'But,' Paxton thought, bitterly, 'that's probably only because Grandmother is still mad at him for getting involved with my mother in the first place, and he wants to piss her off.'
Paxton winced as she inadvertently called her faint memories of her mother to mind. She remembered Josh's confusion as he'd asked if her mother loved her, and her anger when she'd informed him that her mother had abandoned her. And she had, Paxton was sure of it. She'd probably taken one look at her demon-tainted child and, with her holier-than-thou Whitelighter attitude, had decided that she didn't want to waste her time. After all, why else wouldn't she be involved in her daughter's life?
'I'm better off without her,' Paxton thought, repeating the phrase that had been her mantra for as long as she could remember.
It was the only thing her father would say, every time she'd asked about her mother when she was younger. That her mother was weak, and that she'd abandoned them, and that they were better off without her. Eventually, she'd just learned to stop asking. The problem was, she couldn't stop remembering.
There was nothing concrete in her memories; only fragments that she wasn't sure were even real. The sound of bright laughter, the feeling of being swept up in a hug, the smell of chocolate chip pancakes (which she snuck above-world at least once a week to try and find; they were the guilty pleasure her father never needed to know about). A strange feeling in her chest - in her heart, if she was being honest - that was at times both terrifying and comforting when it struck her. She'd never felt anything like it, before - except that she had to have, otherwise how could she know what it felt like?
There was a part of her that hated the memories, hated how they made her feel. And another, smaller part that longed to feel that way all the time. But, it was impossible. There was no warmth to be found in the Underworld, and she would have no welcome above.
'Unless Josh was telling the truth,' a little voice whispered in the back of her mind. 'If he does come from a better world, if his family really would accept me-'
She shook that thought off, though. If a better world really did exist, the kind of world that her mother had lived in, the likes of her had no place in it. She was the scion of the Long clan; the sooner she remembered that, the better.
'Is this how all Whitelighters feel?' she thought, frustrated with herself. 'Do they experience this confusion and turmoil all the time?'
If they did, she didn't like it. And not for the first time, she wished that she could just do away with her Whitelighter side. It had brought her nothing but grief, and pain, and scorn from her fellow demons. How could she possibly be strong, when part of her was only dragging her down?
"There you are; I've been looking all over for you!"
Paxton jumped at the voice from behind her, twisting around to shoot a glare over her shoulder at the figure approaching her. Then, she turned back around and hugged her knees to her chest, ignoring her intruder. Unfortunately, he didn't seem very inclined to ignore her.
"Go away, Hugo," she said, flatly, getting a snort of laughter from the older boy.
"That's not very nice of you," Hugo scolded, as he sat down on the rock behind her.
Hugo was the closest she had to a friend down here. The older boy hadn't been living in the Underworld as long as she had, about two years. He didn't talk much about his time in the above world, only that he owed his life to Vicus, the demon that had brought him into the Underworld.
Pax had first met him a few days after he'd arrived to the Underworld, when he'd managed to get on the wrong side of Brenna and her gang, a bunch of arrogant brats who'd been convinced that they were better than Vicus's new, half-breed pet. Pax had gotten in the middle, and while they hadn't been afraid of her, they'd certainly been afraid of her father's wrath, and they'd backed off. Pax had used that fear to let everyone in the area know to keep their hands off Hugo, and they'd bonded as the only half demons in a world of pure-blooded power plays.
She liked Hugo. He was smart, funny, and for the most part, he didn't get on her nerves. Except when he did things like try to push her off her rock.
The rock she was sitting on wasn't very big, and so he wound up shoving at her back with his shoulders until she gave up enough ground that he had a place to sit. His back pressed against hers, a warm, solid presence, and she could feel his muscles shifting under his skin as he moved, restlessly.
"Sit still," she finally snapped, craning her head around briefly to shoot him an irritated look. "Why do you always have to squirm around like that?"
"Why, Cheryl," Hugo said, a droll tone in his voice, "you're in fine form, today."
"Shut up," Paxton said, without heat. "I am not turning into my grandmother."
"And here I thought you'd be happy to hear that," Hugo told her, sounding surprised. "You're living up to your name, peace-child."
"I said, shut up," Paxton muttered, hunching further over her knees. "And, you're one to talk, bright of spirit." As much as she hated her Whitelighter side, there were days when she hated her name even more. What kind of demon could she be with a name that meant peace?
"I told you," Hugo said, easily, not bothered by her mocking of his name, "we'll be freaks, together."
"I don't want to be a freak with you," she muttered, rebelliously. After a moment, she asked, softly, "Hugo, do you think there's a better world out there?"
"Better, how?" Hugo asked. "Haven't you noticed that we're living in the lap of luxury, down here?" His words were carefully chosen, but she could hear a faint thread of sarcasm underneath.
"Better as in sunshine, laughter, happiness-"
"Good?" Hugo interrupted her, dryly.
"Fine, yes," Paxton conceded, "a good world. Do you think that there is such a thing?"
"You've seen Good, you know it exists," Hugo said, sounding surprised. "But, what does that have to do with you? Why do you care?"
"I met this boy," Paxton said, hesitantly, and then she paused. She trusted Hugo, as much as any of them could trust another, down in Hell. But, she wasn't sure if she could trust him with this.
"You mean the Seer's newest captive?" Hugo asked, when she fell silent. "Half the local Underworld knows that she's holding some witch-child as part of some vendetta plot. It's not like she's been particularly subtle about it."
"Oh, hello, Vicus," Paxton mocked, elbowing Hugo in the back. "You're in fine form, today."
"Oh, shut up," Hugo retorted, at the mention of his mentor. "He's right, though. The Source and her sister rule through power, not finesse. Their reign will never last."
"You're rambling," Paxton told him.
"Okay, fine," Hugo shot back, "we'll get back to your topic of choice. What do you want with the Seer's captive?"
"I went to see him," Paxton confessed, and Hugo shook his head in silent exasperation. "The Seer took him to try and get back at his family. They're looking for him."
"I repeat," Hugo said, patiently, "what does that have to do with you?"
"He offered to take me with him," Paxton told him, in a small voice. "To live with his family in his better world."
"Lies," Hugo snorted, derisively. "He's just trying to lure you into some kind of a trap."
And that's what Paxton thought, what all of her instincts had been telling her. And, yet…
"He's just a kid," Paxton protested, and behind her, she could feel Hugo jerk his shoulders in a shrug.
"So?" he returned. "You can't deny that it's not exactly what you would do, in his place."
"Well, yeah," she replied, slowly, "but Good doesn't think the same way that we do. I think he really meant it."
"Do you want to go?" Hugo asked, his tone carefully guarded.
"I don't know," Paxton said, softly. "Maybe."
"You're an idiot," Hugo pointed out. "You're going to go help this kid escape, aren't you?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "Maybe." She hesitated, and then plunged ahead. "Are you going to stop me?"
"If you want to be stupid," Hugo remarked, "it's no business of mine. Besides," he added, in an almost grudging tone, "we freaks have to stick together, remember?"
"Come with me," Paxton offered, impulsively, but Hugo shook his head.
"Can't," he said, shortly, his voice tight. "I've got no one but Vicus. Unlike you, I remember what life is like up there, and there's nothing left for me up there." He fell silent for a long minute, and then went on, "But, I'll draw the guards away, if you want. For as long as I can."
"Thanks," Paxton said, smiling slightly.
"I still think you're an idiot," Hugo told her. "But, if there really is a better world out there, I think you should try to find it."
Continued here