*Edit: May 31, 2012

Please feel free to read I fixed many parts that had bugged me about this story little plot points along with majority of grammar/spelling errors and style of the story. In general this has not changed the central component of this piece although some chapters may change fairly drastically in their content.

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Okay guys. This is my first KND story and it is AU. So sorry guys they were never in the KND. The story focuses on the relationship between Abigail and Hoagie although almost every other character comes into play in this story. This is just the prologue so bare in mind it does not have a lot of action, from here on the story will progress much faster. As a note this story will cover many aspects of life as I have twiddled with the past of characters so be warned. There will be many serious issues touched upon on main characters and supporting. As well a last thing this story is not to offend anyone there will be points in the story where Abigail and Hoagie's relationship will be questioned because of their race, so no one take offense because this story is to be realistic I will not hesitate to touch upon this type of things because they are very common issues now in this modern society.

Okay end of rant. And just to say as everyone knows I do not own this of course it belongs to Warburton. Now, please Enjoy!

Prologue: Monotonous

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Every day was the same for Abigail Lincoln. walking along the winding trails of long hallow streets thriving with jittery children and squawking mothers- the sounds never agitating her, never swarming her with hives of irritants; dare she say she loved the sound- the cowls of little children playing.

Little darling children running all along the roads scattering from speeding cars in ants splendor only to plunder and plod along the vacant roads once again and complete their game of football. Laughter in their eyes and large hammy smiles on their mischievous faces they ran collecting dust upon their feet. How the small children always made the streets come alive.

Since childhood Abigail walked the same streets, the same long drawn path, going from the local high school down three blocks to 51st street cutting across the local recreation center into a little neighborhood complex. From there she would take a few more dips, turn at 47th and make her way across two more streets until she closed in on a blanketed basketball court alienated along the brass construction of the city dissecting into the silent suburbs she was raised.

Green in its shrubbery; the court fostered two long brass court nets, a dim set of wooden bleachers and a lonely stretch of luscious grassland separated from the cool black pebbles of court by a large chain link fence. She wished to go walk over and touch it, feel the cold soothing cobblestone under bare feet. She shouldn't dare. The wind solemn and wispy in the unusually cold afternoon sung with the same despondent methodical voice her father possessed. Don't reach out feebly; you can't have it. Her mind preached heavy into her heart.

She walked forward slow and thoughtful.

When she was younger; a small mouthy thing; she would play basketball with the other children nearby. The game was enticing almost another reality for her. Back then it was more than game, more than merriment for her, a child it was life she welcomed most. It was the anchoring of her sorrows, fears and plights. Beyond the court courage would strike a girl such as her giving strength to make friends and harbor relationship stronger than the test of time.

Growing older life pushed her to focusing on schooling and only playing the sport during season. Breathing deeply in at the rakish laughter only feet away she recalled the ultimatum her father carried upon her. The only time she was allowed to hold a basketball, touch it- feel the exhilarating thrill of running back forward up and down the court was in practiced dull procession of high school recreation. There was no more fun to be had in her precious love- how abandoned she felt; restricted to express her feelings, fears, hurts and happiness in an overly-structured competitive game.

She grew away from the court; despised it even, only coming by daily to wave at the distant friends from her long away childhood. The forget-me-nots she had forged kinship and camaraderie with long ago.

She missed the sounds of childhood. The laughter, the playful screams and of course the sassy momma's who sat on stoops scolding their hyper little boys. Turning to greet the Madea of the street, Ms. Johnson Abigail acknowledged the aged ladies with a tip of the hat. Saddened by creases furled into their foreheads and their once coarse voices benevolent and kind in age Abby walked further leaving them to memory.

Making the turn that connected the field adjacent of the basketball court away from the bustle of city Abby steered away from a rapid screech of tires screaming down the street. Grasping her chest to comfort the fear she paused in her journey home. At the blaring of the sun, the hum of running children and cussing adults her eyes turned towards the court.

It was then; as her heart settled silently back into her chest she noticed within the fences a peculiar odd-to-swallow sight. Drawing closer to the metallic fence she hadn't crossed in years, a willowy figure soaked down glinting with sweat, holding the ball in his palm as he slams it over the heads of the other men running up and down the court. A figure who definitely did not fit in Abby's little world. Something estrange about a lanky shirtless boy sporting a mop of brown hair and searing blue eyes in contrast to the fades and braids and blended tones of skin breaking away from him as he takes another shot. Something breathe taking about an oddity among the mundane. Looking back to make sure it wasn't anymore speeding cars causing her heart to palpitate so violently Abby studied the specimen before her.

Even from all the way across the fence she catches his laughter- husky but light boyish laughter almost too delicate to be manly. After he makes the shot and before she can realize it she can feel him looking right through her feeling what's left her bleating soul swept right out of her tiny body.

Clear blue, glistening like waves along the sea; vibrant, lovely blue- warm, inviting eyes- even from across the court side fence greet her dusty face. Even from afar she could feel him boring down deep into the essence of her skin. Eyes like she never seen squint down tracing her figure sending a coy smile that play along the rim of his pink-shell lips. Smiling boyishly he twirls the basketball around his arms to and fro with such ease Abby believed he must have been playing for years. Grinning like a wolf the lanky boy signals for her to join. Much like a child his expression jovial.

Abby tugs her red cap below the brim of her eyes hiding her amusement- barely able to shake her head. Her mouth forms the words and her eyes fall downwards away from his gaze.

No.

And she cannot help but tilt her head over, feeling her long braid swipe against the nape of her back, to see if he read her message, but all he does is mimic the motion cocking his head up in confusion where the honey brown locks falls down in a mess across his nose. Pearly shells nibble at each other and she can feel his question ghost against the depths of her soul.

No?

With ease he saunters over to the Cage, the barrier separating the two. His fingers- long broad fingers; wither into the empty spaces of air cradling the crisscross hatching of silver between his knuckles. Eyes- wide blue eyes grin down upon her and she can feel warmness radiate of his smile.

There was a swagger in his stride, the way he stepped up to her with such easiness as if the world in its utter perfection just allowed such things to happen constantly. He stood above her tall, broad shoulders, messy hair and wide knowing grin- looking right into the depths of her soul and even then Abigail Lincoln knew- within every morsel of her heart, there was a secret hidden behind the bright depths of his eyes, a frothy coldness where something lonely and dead waited in the forlorn abyss, eating away at his soul.

Even in that temporary happiness his eyes looked so afraid- no closure, no sympathy… only immense pain bearing down on his heart, all of it hidden behind the facade of a warm lovely smile.

Curiosity was the first thing to board her mind. To find a creature so paradoxical on every level- how she wanted to dissect every insatiable little thing making him tick, allowing him able to smile so sweetly when she could feel the brooding shadows of despair riot savagely off his body.

She should walk away. It wasn't worth the emotion the toile and payment to become invested. Abby conceded she was never good at fixing broken things- better to cut strings loose before she finds herself knotted up. But she never does.

Instead in her loneliness and pique for an anomaly promises to observe but never touch- to respond but never befriend. For many months she doesn't curb into her curiosity. Invest into the languid figure posted up along the fence separating the two of them from one another. She never brushes against his seashell knuckles or ghost across the caustic pads of his brittle fingers. Never does she question why his hands remain painted in burly colors of purple or why he constantly smiles down at her like some angel of redemption or… why he refuses to cross the gate- go through the doors and take her in. She can see it in his eyes the longing and she wonders…does he look at other girls just like this? She condones and chastens herself every time he surely-probably, more than likely does.

It remains this way for a very long time. Days turn to weeks and a week turns to months and before long the rendezvous is requiring more. There words remain the same. He always ask her to come and play; scared of plunging out of the safety of gate; and as always she pulls her red cap farther down her eyes to hide her smile and refusing to be engulfed in his world; his sanctum- his temporary safe heaven. She knows very well how impermanent the safety of a cage and doesn't want to be trapped again. It already scalded her once before.

And still she approaches, tempts fate, tempts her own craving heart for a kind of love she gave up many years ago. She wouldn't venture in alone, into an allusion of childhood; but that damnable man with his beautiful blue eyes and childish heart was sure as hell making difficult for Abby to say no.

Abby won't admit it, but she does it all just so she can see him walk up to her with his wolf of a smile, lean up against the cold metal fence. Entwine his fingers into the cold pillars of the barrier calling for her hand upon his. Where he is too gentle to touch and Abigail much too cautious both stuck at an apex of each the others world; woes and fears just too scared to cross.

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It wasn't until their eighth meeting inside the stuffy classroom hearing his vocal laughter from behind she was able to recognize him around her school. He was a new student and she never apt to approaching her peers hadn't any idea. From word of ear she was told he was a rather devilish boy with a title preceding him. Oddly enough he never spoke to her during classes but he remained stained with his carefree smile and joyful bright eyes which were unmistakable.

Much to Abigail's chagrin it had taken her some days to trace his face and caste his personality down into memory. As an observant creature she saw a little piece of his smile, his voice, his bright eyes in every other person she encountered and it became difficult to tell them all apart.

Hoagie P. Gilligan Jr. She found out his name from one of her dynamic friends Heiney, who swooned and balled over everything fresh and trendy. At the moment the trend setting thing was catching the attention of a tall grinning wolf that prowled on little coffee skin girls wearing ragged red caps.

A prickle had perpetually formed on her skin- a foreign elating; frightening feeling she had never had before. For every time she turned down the hallway, she could feel the blue of his eyes sweeping across her shadow, polishing through her notes feel his hand brush across the arch of her back during study hour; sitting down within her desk she could feel the warmth of his voice rustle against her neck- even though he sat four long far away seats behind her in the very back of the classroom. More than often she would find herself in a daze overcome in the prickles; answering long equations only she was known for responding to, turning back to glower at him under the tip of her bangs- unfortunately she was not allowed to wear her hat in the classroom, and he would just send her one of those lazy smiles he manifested out of nowhere and turn back to chattering along the oblong shadows jesting stories from his old life out of him.

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Back in their sustaining limbo his fingers curled once again into the safety of the separating fence.

What's your name?

Hoagie asked with a curled interest at the tip of his voice.

Abby…Baby. Abigail Lincoln.

His grin spread even more as if he snarled the pretty little butterfly within his glinting web trapping her up by the wings where escape was futile.

Do you want to play?

Startled, her heart jumped, hat almost slipping off with the strength of the breeze. For the longest time the words had been to come inside; be enveloped in the familiar strangeness, watch the people that acted too much like children sour her heart. This was different. This was access to action; here on the court she could grieve, cry and be angry at it betraying her. Abby didn't have to sit back anymore and let life runaway with her.

He said something else almost a murmur so delicate and cold in its words.

Do you want to play?

She didn't know if it was a question or a statement anymore. The wind loud and consuming told her one thing though her anticipating heart told her another. Tipping up the edge of her cap her chocolate brown eyes beamed taking up the challenge. Stepping across the threshold onto the brimstone she feels out of body. But refuge wraps around her when she sees the ball; a familiar shadow stagnating along the cobble.

He guides her to the court where the other figures wait in agitation for the game to begin. She feels safe under the gentleness of his warmth.

Where there goes the prologue. It seems a little dragged out sorry about that. But there is the beginning. The style used for the prologue will probably be discontinued and will be replaced with a more active narration.

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You don't have to read this it's just my thoughts on the Editing:

Again thanks for reading; this chapter was edited May 31st 2012 it's much longer and digs into the central messages that are going to be conveyed in this story much more than the original chapter. I feel it really helped the story move more smoothly. Now there isn't such a glaring difference between the last couple of chapters which were written almost two years apart.

I tried to draw out more of Abby's vulnerability this time around- and this chapter isn't necessary meant to say Abby loves Hoagie; she doesn't know him at this point but she feels she can use him as a means to return to childhood- She sees Hoagie as a child in a metaphorical way; take that as you will.

On to Edit the next Chapter. Please Review I love to hear what everyone thinks about the editing and revamping