What am I doing? Hmmmm, I have no clue. I've got two stories to update, many stories to prepare for publishing, and this was not on the plan. I just thought of it like, I dunno, twelve minutes ago? I'm the type who won't leave stories as one-shots because I'll usually have the inspiration to keep going , and I'm sure this is one of those stories. So let me know if you guys will like this as a multi-chapter (which will probably happen, let's face it) or just a simple few chapters.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned. Must try harder.

Cry Differently

Chapter One

I walked across an empty land
I knew the pathway like the back of my hand
I felt the earth beneath my feet
Sat by the river and it made me complete

Oh simple thing where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

My mother used to say, years before she died, that some things in life come, and then they go. Nothing is permanent. Sometimes, you try hard to keep it, and sometimes, you try even harder to forget it. Some things you should always let go of are things that hurt you. And the things that make you happy, you should try your very best to keep. Love, she said, is one of those things.

'Good morning,' Hanji chirped, glancing up from the register she was trying to start up.

'Not working again?' I questioned, unwrapping the scarf from around my neck.

'Hmm,' she affirmed, 'it froze up. I've only got ten minutes to get it working before it's time to open up the shop.' Hanji huffed in exasperation, placing her hands on her hips as she waited for the screen to flash to life.

'Just get a new one,' I sat across the counter from her, unzipping my jacket, 'it's a cafe, you can't deal with a faulty register every morning.' I looked around. 'Why didn't you turn on the heater? It's freezing outside.'

Hanji squinted her eyes at the screen, patience slowly seeping out of her. 'It's going to snow this week. That's what the weather forecast said anyway. Not that it's ever right.' Finally giving up on the hope that it would start any time soon, she turned away and reached for the heater control on the wall. With the press of two buttons, the heater flared to life on the ceiling, and I felt a rush of air over her hair, chilly. I shivered.

'A quick flat white, will you?' I grinned at my long time friend. 'Two sugars.'

Hanji rolled her eyes. 'Just come to the back and make it yourself.'

'But it's your coffee shop.'

'But you make better coffee.'

'I'm paying you. And one of those salad sandwiches please. You know I love your sandwiches.' I pointed at the one she wanted through the glass case.

The register screen lit up, coming to life and Petra could see the brand logo flash in the reflection of Hanji's glasses. Hanji grinned, suddenly in a good mood. 'Whatever you want, Picasso.'

Taking a sandwich out of the glass case, she put it on a plate and slid it across the counter, turning to make the coffee as well. 'How's work going?' She asked over her shoulder, her purple strands whipping about her.

'Don't get hair in my coffee,' I warned cheekily. 'It's going well, I guess. It's pretty quiet though. I'm painting the last touches on a law firm in the next neighbourhood today, and once that's done, I'm free. I thought painting and decorating would keep me real busy.'

'Or your just a workaholic,' Hanji chimed.

I frowned. 'No. Painters just aren't as scheduled as I thought they would be when I was a kid.'

Hanji approached with her coffee, putting a spoon dipped in chocolate beside the serviette. 'Why does it matter? Just relax at home in your spare time. A nine til five job isn't bad.'

I scrunched her nose. 'You know I don't like staying at home. Not since mum died, anyway.'

Hanji appeared dismayed. 'Maybe you should move out of that house. You're dad's like a soldier, you don't have to live with him to take care of him, you know. He's always away, isn't he? Just find a nice apartment and move in. Maybe get a cat.' She thought for a moment. 'Or get married.'

I laughed. 'Maybe,' I agreed.

'Just stay in this neighbourhood, okay?' Hanji reprimanded. 'I'll hunt you down if you go far away.'

-X-

Hanji and I had many conversations like that. They followed a similar pattern. It'll be about jobs, and then it'll go onto not keeping busy, and then somehow my mother will become the subject and Hanji will give me a new method of recovery. I didn't need recovery. Not really. It's been seven years since she died and I've stopped mourning long since.

Some things in life come, some things in life go.

It was my papa who didn't know how to let go. He was a prosecutor, and from the moment my mum's murder was announced, he did everything in his power to have the killer jailed. And he did. The defendant's only family, a lone son who was long forgotten tried his best to help his father, but in the end, justice prevailed. As it should.

'How was work today?' Papa asked, watching me clear up the dinner table. 'It was good. Just finished up a firm in the afternoon. It'll open up in a few weeks.' I dumped the dishes in the sink, and set to scraping the leftover food into containers and food bowls. 'Hopefully a new client will come around.'

Papa chuckled. 'Many clients will come. My Petra is a professional.'

I saluted him. 'The very best.'

The skin around his eyes relaxed as Papa's smile dropped. 'Petra,' he said gently.

'Hmm?' I put the container of pasta into the fridge, followed by bowl of salad that I couldn't finish.

'We have a new neighbour. A few streets down.' He eyed me, gaze softening.

'Really? Who is it?'

He cleared his throat. 'You know the old workshop across the convenience store? It's been sold. To a young man. I'm not sure what he's going to do with it but he's been there for a few days now. Been living there.'

I couldn't quite remember which shop he was referring to, but I rarely went that way. 'So who is it? You've never had an interest in our neighbours before.' He paused, looking down at his folded hands on the kitchen island. 'His name is Levi Ackerman. Daniel Ackerman's son.'

I froze, the fridge door slowly closing shut with a piercing creak. 'Oh.'

'I don't want you going near him. I don't know what that bastard is doing here but he will have nothing to do with us. Do you understand? Not so much as an acknowledgement.'

I nodded numbly. 'Of course, Papa.'

He sighed tiredly. 'I'll be in my study if you need me, sweetheart.' Getting to his feet, he ruffled my hair gently and then disappeared into the hall, the conditional click of his study door signalling his self-confinement. Like every other time.

As I washed the dishes, my mind wandered. I thought of the court case from all those years ago. The back of the head of Daniel Ackerman's son that I saw. The dead look on his father's face as he listened to his sentence being announced. I remembered Papa weeping beside me, and my vision blurring as tears fell down my cheeks. The relief. The content. Finally. Finally. I don't know what I expected from a defendant's family when they were convicted. Maybe shouts, angry screams. Tears. Maybe even the slouching of the shoulders, the drop of their head as they finally accepted defeat. But Daniel Ackerman's son did none of those things. Through the haze of my own tears, all I could see was the straight posture, the head held high.

A scorching burn on my palm jerked me from my train of thoughts. Turning off the scalding water, I hung the last of the dishes on the dish rack to dry. Blowing on my hand gently, I soothed the pain, but my eyes weren't quite seeing as I tried to recall the memories of the trial.

That night, however, sleep consumed me.

-X-

'Were you saying that you were bored?' Hanji asked over the phone, her voice sounding excited.

'Hmm?' I mumbled, scratching my head and keeping my eyes shut so they sunlight seeping through the window wouldn't burn them through.

'Yesterday. Something about not being busy enough. You were saying that.'

I yawned. 'Yeah, I was. Why?'

'I've got a client for you. Not with your company, but something separate for you to do. How's that, Picasso?' She gave an arrogant laugh. 'I'm such an immaculate friend, don't you think?'

I finally sat up. 'Really? Who?'

'He came into the shop this morning and was looking through the phonebook. I saw him looking up the painting services for his studio. So I told him I have a painter friend who has plenty of time on their hands. He gave me the address. Said to tell you to come down whenever you're ready.'

'What did you say?' I asked, blinking away the last of my sleepiness.

'I said you'd come by today.'

'Today?'

'You don't work weekends. It's Saturday, Petra. Wake up.'

Standing on my wobbly feet, I walked over to my desk, pulling out paper from the drawer. 'Give me his address then. I'll get changed and go straight for it.'

'Will it kill you to say thank you?'

'You're the best, Hanji,' I amended.

'Indeed.'

Quickly writing the address down, I ended the call. 'Bless her soul,' I murmured, throwing off my pyjama top. One glance at the clock said it was almost ten. Papa left for work hours ago. He wouldn't notice my absence for a while.

Preparing my bag full of clothes, I slipped the address into my pocket and left the house.

-X-

'Hello?' I knocked on the wooden door of the shop. Leaning in, I listened for sound, but heard none. Reaching for the handle, I twisted it and to my surprise, it wasn't locked. Pushing it open, I stepped inside, my steps causing creaks to run along the floorboards.

'Hello? Is anyone here?' I called out, looking around cautiously. The place was wreck. The wallpaper was peeling; the shelves and floors were dusty and dirty. The slide door I approached was almost off its hinges when I pulled it open. Carefully setting it back into place, I walked down several steps and looked around.

'Excuse me,' I said loudly. 'I came in for a paint job. I got a call this morning from my friend at the coffee shop. She said you needed a painter?'

'I didn't know it was a woman.'

I almost jumped at the sound of a voice wafting from the corridor to my left. A man appeared at the doorway. He stared at me, expression dull and stoic.

'Did she say it was a man?' I inquired, gripping the strap of my bag.

He turned away. 'I guess not.'

Not knowing what else to do, I followed him. The corridor was no better than the rest of the shop.

'Is this going to be a studio?' I asked.

He didn't reply, leading me into what seemed to be a back courtyard.

'Do you think you can do the job?' He voiced, sounding flat.

'Of course. No job's too hard for a painter.' I said, not wanting to frown in front of a client. He stood in green cargo pants and a fitted blank singlet, hands dusty and white from whatever he was handling before I came in.

'Good to hear. I like results. If that's what you can give me, we'll work well together.' His eyes, a piercing, bright grey, stared at me. 'Did you need to get changed?'

I smiled. 'Yes.'

He gestured to the left, where there was a door ajar. 'You can do it there. I'll be inside.'

He turned to go back the way we came, but I reached out a hand. 'Nice to meet you, I'm Petra Ral,' I introduced myself. He looked at my hand for a second. 'Levi,' he said shortly, and then left.

My smile fell, my hand dropping to my side.

Levi? The name resounded in my head.

I don't want you going near him. Do you understand? Not so much as an acknowledgement.

Not so much...as an acknowledgement.

Hold onto love, Petra, my mother used to say. To a person, there is no one more precious than the one you love. Because they teach you new things about yourself. Make you want to be a better person. And most importantly, they make you happy. What's life if you're not happy?

I came across a fallen tree
I felt the branches of it looking at me
Is this the place we used to love?
Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?

Oh simple thing where have you gone?
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on
So tell me when you're gonna let me in
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

Review and let me know what you think? Please please please?

Love you guys

xx