Everyone Has a Past… - Chapter Two: Found!

DISCLAIMER: Darker is BLACK is not my property

There is always something left to love. And if you ain't learned that, you ain't learned nothing.

- Lorraine Hansberry

Eight and a half years before…

Bolin was leaning against the odorous trash bins in the back alley, trying to look as casual and inconspicuous as any young teen could be. If anyone asked, he was taking a smoke - this was a lie, of course; an easy one that had taken almost no effort to construct. All it required was the flash of an empty cigarette carton he kept in his pocket, one that had been scavenged from a dumpster. He had never even so much as touched one of the repulsive things, and he had no intention of ever doing so. But one glance at his appearance - his ratty clothes, his dirty face and hair, his empty-looking eyes - and any stranger would think that he certainly seemed the type to get hooked at such a young age.

The rain was cold and the garbage stank, tendrils of foul-smelling air curling and wafting into his nose. He crinkled his face slightly in disgust. Hurry up, Xing... He shivered, pulling his old, threadbare coat tighter around his shoulders. He was not the garment's first owner – no, the first owner had been "liberated" of its warmth. It was stolen, it was probably second-hand to begin with, and it was too small Bolin had been growing lately - not a lot, but enough that he was beginning to notice.

"You've gotten taller," Xing had bluntly observed a couple days ago. "We'll both be needing new clothes soon," she examined her own well-worn outfit then, noting the fraying hems and sleeves that rode too far up on her forearms. "...how about we get some next week?" Her face had been void of emotion, as was her voice. Calculating, rational - everything Xing stated was a fact, plain and simple without any frills.

"Okay," he'd replied. Because it was easier that way - it was easier to agree than to get wrapped up in an argument that would only end with him walking away with his tail between his legs. Xing had never been a great arguer up until recently. Once they got going (and they rarely did) it was only a matter of time before his sister got what she wanted. She said it was because his logic and reasoning was flawed that she emerged victorious on these occasions.

And that was why Bolin was leaning against the trash bins in the back alley in the rain. Right about now, Xing was probably walking into the store they'd staked and scoped out earlier. She would be discreet, no doubt - the fewer people that saw her face, the better. Then his sister would use her peculiar ability to short out all the light sources in the place, and then in the confusion and the dark take whatever they needed.

Today's victim was a clothing store – it wasn't really a fancy place; just a second or third hand shop on the slummier side of town. Xing would only take what they needed, which wasn't very much. Whenever they needed food or anything else necessary for survival, they would pull a similar trick on the store of their choosing and careful observation. Xing was the only one who went inside – Bolin played the part of lookout, as well as a poor man's version of getaway driver (i.e., he helped Xing carry the shop-lifted merchandise as they high-tailed as quickly as they could).

Suddenly, a back door flew open - the one he'd been watching for almost fifteen minutes now. Xing came hurtling out, arms overflowing with stolen items. "Let's go!" She barked.

If Bolin didn't know any better, he's say his sister was looked frightened...or something that amounted to it, in the least. But that's impossible - she says she doesn't feel that kind of thing anymore.

He grabbed half of the contraband Xing was holding, stuffing it haphazardly under an arm. Then he took ahold of her hand and together they ran. They twisted through deserted alleys, in-between buildings and across barren back lots. Chill water was sent flying from puddles in freezing sprays as they trudged through them, soaking their jeans cuffs and making them shiver. The two siblings tried to put as much distance between themselves and the crime scene before the inevitable arrival of their first, and quite inconvenient, obstacle in their getaway.

Xing stopped, one hand on her knee, the other holding their "brand new" belongings, chest heaving. "I can't go on for much longer," she said, speaking in between her gasps for air. "I need to rest soon..."

Bolin nodded, understanding. "I'll find a place to put this," He moved to alleviate his sister of the clothes she held in her grasp - but as his arm drew near, Xing grabbed his wrist.

"What?"

"I...I messed up," she winced. He felt a knot of dread begin to form in his chest. This can't be good...whatever went wrong must've gone awry on a major scale. For Xing to actually show a flicker of regret, or whatever it was he'd seen flash across her features…well, it was probably best left un-thought of. Of that, I am sure.

Xing had shown little too no emotion since she had obtained her abilities. Way back in the beginning she used to act like her old self, because she knew that her lack of things like tears and empathy frightened him. He told her to stop…because that's all it was – an act. He'd rather know and love his younger sibling for what she was now than who she used to be; even if her past self was easier to love than this new, cold and analytical version of the girl he had come to care for.

But, he'd argue with himself at times, she put on the act because she was trying to make me happy...doesn't that mean she cares about me, even just a little? He had no answer for himself. The nature of Xing's condition was above him - impossible to understand or decipher in any language, be it any variety of verbal or body. Her actions and words might as well have been a code, and he'd been playing code-breaker for over a year now.

"I've gotten us into mess, brother," she said quietly, relinquishing her firm grip on his arm. He could see the white and red imprints her small fingers had left on his clammy skin. Bolin was drawn back to the present - and regrettably, their current predicament - by her flat and solemnly spoken words.

"What happened?" he asked, masking his fear of knowing from both his sister and himself with a thin veil of curiosity.

"Well, the store owner pulled out a gun and...," she trailed off, that distant look glazing over her deep blue irises again, as if she were daydreaming.

Not now! "And what?" he was getting worried now. His heart beat a little faster in his chest. "What happened after the store keeper pulled the gun? How did they know you were there?" She wouldn't look at him, swaying slightly on her feet as her gaze became more and more removed from reality. Xing wasn't seeing him – she wasn't seeing anything.

"…and what?" He repeated more forcefully. I need to know!

"…and I killed him," Xing finally answered, in something that was barely classifiable as a whisper.

"Wha...?" he'd been caught off guard – struck just about speechless. You wanted to know, that voice that sounded like his own chastised, within the confines of his own head. You wanted to know, and now you do. The thing was, he wished he didn't. But what had Bolin been expecting, exactly? That Xing had simply said "thanks for the clothes," and then skipped out of the store like a giddy school girl? That kind of thing didn't even work in the movies.

Xing's eyelids were beginning to droop, her shoulders to sag. Her arms slowly slackened and the items held in them tumbled to the rain-soaked ground.

"It was the most rational option...he saw my face...,"she murmured, trying to defend her actions even as her legs gave way. Bolin caught her before she hit the pavement. He held her for a moment, stunned. Whenever Xing used her special talent, she was beleaguered by an inescapable spell of sleep not too long afterwards. It was like some sick price, a payment for using a power so unnatural and most definitely non-human.

He carefully hid the clothes that they had stolen among the trash, balancing his sister on one arm and the stolen goods on the other. He didn't like the fact that he had to hide them in garbage, though.

I'll have to come back for it before the garbage men do, he thought to himself. Or else it all would have been for nothing.

He began to carry his sister to the place they now called "home" - an abandoned apartment building that was sure to collapse any day now. Bolin was careful to stay out of sight…not that it was hard. What with the rain and the cold, and work and school, hardly anyone was wandering around the backstreets of the city. Bolin tried to steer his thoughts away from a particular path, but they were insistent upon straying down it. It – the word he had reduced a horrible, fruitless act to. An act his little sister had committed more than once. He wondered what that store owner had looked like...was it a man or woman?

Stop it! It doesn't matter...Xing killed them. It was hard for him to assign the label "murderer" to his younger sister, but it was one that applied. After all, today hadn't been the first time she'd taken a life. He just hadn't been able to come to terms with it yet; with any of them, really.

He laboriously climbed the stairs to their tiny, empty apartment - it was on the third floor in the far corner, located conveniently next to a fire escape in case they were ever in need of a quick exit. They weren't the only so called "tenants," either - a few squatters, even a couple stray cats (and many, many rats and roaches) called this descript mess of a building home as well. They never bothered them, too wrapped up in their own lives and problems to give the adolescents much notice. And if they did...well, Bolin preferred not to think about "ifs".

He set gently Xing down on an old mattress that the two of them shared. The old heap of fabric and springs had been in the apartment since before the two of them resided within its thin, cheap and cracked walls – the mattress was a reminder, a remnant of the actual tenant who had lived in the place previously. The mattress was almost like a ghost, in that respect. He made sure that the sheet tacked up over the window was still in place, blocking all of their activities to passerby and police alike.

I wonder if they've stopped looking...a while back, pursuit by the law had been a major issue. They'd had to move all over the place, never staying anywhere for longer than a few weeks. But that had been months upon months ago. The police had probably stopped looking, because who would ever expect a then-twelve-year-old and his younger sister to make it out there, all alone in the big scary world and on the streets, no less? Their case file was probably forgotten now, stuck in the back of some metal filing cabinet all crumpled and torn...he hoped.

Or rather, had hoped. What if someone else saw Xing today? He wondered …someone other than the storekeeper - and what if they got a good look at her face? It was inevitable that today's screw-up would be reported...and if someone linked him and his sister to the crime (which they undoubtedly would – it wasn't like this was a onetime occurrence) he'd be forced to take Xing and himself on the run again.

He scavenged through the kitchenette, opening and closing drawers and cabinets until he found a few bags of chips, along with a couple of other assorted snack foods. He put some aside for Xing, for when she woke up. It was official – their cupboards were now completely bare. Time to go on a food run again...

Food raid was more like it. They like to space out their operations, never hitting one store more than once or in the same area. The two of them were traveling farther and farther from their apartment to find food, which was an inconvenience when you factored in Xing's inability to stay awake after using her ability.

Who will get hurt next time? He found himself thinking; because it was always someone. Will she do it again? He was responsible for today's tragedy as well - he wasn't going to delude himself. His need for clothes + Xing = one more dead person…yet another lifeless body that was beginning to weigh on his conscience like a wet blanket, just as the others were.

Bolin didn't want to leave again. They'd been in this city for a while now, and he was beginning to feel more and more comfortable here; well, not comfortable exactly. It was a feeling more like accepting something you knew you couldn't change.

How did it come to this? He shivered, repeating within his head a frequently reoccurring query. Their entire apartment was damp, with leaks everywhere. Water dripped down through the narrow fissures in the ceiling, and wind blew in through the glassless window - the billowing and flapping sheet doing nothing to abate the bite of the chilly gusts. It's a miracle we haven't gotten sick yet…

What he wanted was to be home. Not crouched against the wall in this sorry place, where he felt so small and unimportant - this place where his little sister had just snuffed someone's life out, as easily as if they had been a candle…someone who could've had a husband, kids, a wife, or a house…a home and a family; how welcome both of those notions sounded.

He wanted to be warm and dry, to have enough food...both he and Xing had slightly hollow cheeks and ribs that were just barely visible under the pale canvas of their skin. They weren't emaciated, no, but the gnawing pain of hunger was always waiting for those days when they didn't get enough to eat, when the only thing they had was a piece of fruit or a pack of chips between them. Hunger was like a predator – a ravenous lion stalking a wounded zebra, attacking every now and then but never quite finishing the poor creature off.

He wanted his family back more than anything. He wanted to see Xing's real smile, feel his mother's arms around him, hear his father's caring and guiding voice, and taste his grandmother's cooking. He wanted to go to school and laugh and play with friends whose names and faces were nothing but a distant, fuzzy memory these days…but those people and places which he had loved so deeply and taken for granted were inaccessible forever, now - because Xing had killed there, too.

(A/N) Okay, so I'm sorry I've taking so damn long to upload this -_-; I guess you could say life got in the way, as I do happen to be a high school student with a lot of crap to do XD But fear not! Soon it shall be summer, and what does that mean? I'll tell ya' what it means –

MORE TIME FOR WRITING!

So, this is actually half of what I was going to post, but as soon as I get the other half written I'll edit this one and glue them together (but you know…digitally…)

And for your information, anyone reading this (and liking it) owes a heaping gratitude of thanks to my friend outwriter18, who herself is wonderous author, a beautiful human being, and the main motivation behind the continuance of this story. Thanks, outwriter!

Sincerely ~ Vots