"Cannot Find the Heart I Gave to You"

by: singyourmelody

Author's Note and Disclaimer:I don't own any of The Nine Lives of Chloe King characters. Title is from Ingrid Michaelson's "Glass;" this song just seemed to fit all the right emotions as I was writing this. That finale was just . . . wow. I just don't know. So from that, came this.

It's a year later (to the day) and Valentina and Jasmine and Brian are all still dead.

There's been no change, no magic fix, no way to turn back the clock and stop that night from happening.

There have only been sunrises and sunsets and cotton-ball clouds and chirping birds and everything around them still moving as if nothing has happened. As if life is normal, as if all is as it should be.

But it's not and never will be again.

She still feels like she can't breathe.

She's supposed to be the uniter, the strongest Mai with the most complex powers, but watching him try, desperately struggle really, to continue his life makes her realize her own weakness.

She's crumbled and he's still keeping it together. He practically moves into her house, his own too cold and quiet and everything a home isn't for him to stay there anymore.

He forces her to keep training, always pushing her, propelling both of them forward. She gets frustrated with him for it, but inside she is grateful. They both need some semblance of normal and as much as she hates to admit it, his disapproving glare and superior attitude is their normal.

(She wishes she knew how she fit into their normal now, especially after all of her . . . confessions.)

The white roses are lovely. She knows Valentina would have cherished them, as she places them in front of the granite stone.

For Jasmine, they brought pink orchids. Roses were too formal and white flowers too stoic. Jasmine was full of life.

She turns back to him and his bottom lip is quivering. He hardly ever breaks down while she does almost every day so she's not prepared for how to help him.

But his eyes betray how much he is hurting inside (he'd never say it to her) and she does the only thing she can think of. Throwing her arms around him and holding him as tightly to her body as possible, she whispers into his ear, "It's okay. I've got you."

It takes her a while to realize that the tears on her cheeks aren't just hers.

They heal. Somewhat.

She has to hold him back from instantly killing every non-human member they encounter.

They search for his brother, without any luck.

His anger gets the better of him sometimes and she has to grab hold of his face and bring it right in front of hers as she reminds him of all that still waits from them. Of all that they need to do despite what was done to them. Because of what was done to them. She only exhales when he does.

They graduate from high school and Jasmine is not there and there's a distinct moment when they both recognize how wrong the whole thing is. But then Amy and Paul are there asking for a picture and they both smile for the camera. It comes easier now.

As they walk the San Francisco streets later, on the night when the whole world is supposed to be waiting at their feet, she takes his hand and he doesn't say anything and he doesn't pull away.

College was never in his plans, but it was always in hers, so they go. She's still the uniter, he's still the protector and it's been years since she trampled on his heart, but sometimes it feels as if they are still standing in front of her house as the words belong and we and together hang in the air between them.

He never seems very interested though; the empty glares he gives her classmates telling of his constant focus and resolve. Focused on protecting her; resolved on setting right those who have done wrong. It's a noble mission, but she hates the vacancy she sees in him, almost always.

He's still living, but not.

It takes a stupid "B+" on a paper she killed herself over for her to realize that it's her turn to save him for once. As she fights with her professor about the unfair grade, she decides that maybe it is time for her to retain some of her fire. Her heart may still be held together with band-aids and there may still be a gaping hole from the loss of her dear friend, but she is getting better. He isn't. And something has to be done.

She kidnaps him. He freaks out (naturally) and tries to fight her off, but she overpowers him and sedates him and loads him into the passenger seat of her car. He wouldn't have come otherwise and she knows he needs this. They both do.

"Mr. Friendly's Water Palace" was a lot more exciting when she was four, she realizes as she pulls into the parking lot, a giant, slightly maniacal clown greeting them. But they're there now and it will have to do.

"Alek," she says, gently shaking him awake.

He springs up when he realizes he is somewhere unknown and looks at her with terrified eyes, before realizing who she is and where he is and that he's safe with her. She closes her eyes and slowly opens them when she recognizes how tightly wound he is and how much she still needs to do.

"We're here?" she offers, quietly.

"Where is here, Chloe?" he asks looking around. "And why do I feel so awful?" He touches his head, rubs his eyes.

"Oh, I, um, sedated you. . ." she says.

"You what?" he begins before launching into a diatribe about the dangers of incapacitating her protector.

"Before you start in on what I did. . ." she says at the same time.

". . . can't believe you would think this was a good idea. . ."

". . . I just think we need some time away. . ."

". . . and what if something had happened. . ."

". . . everything's been so tense. . ."

". . . you could have been killed. . ."

". . . you always worry too much, maybe it's time. . ."

". . . then what would I have done, besides watch over you until you decide to lose another one. . ."

". . . and you never seem to just take a time out. . ."

They continue on for a few minutes, both talking, neither listening, words jumbling together.

". . . and I just needed you to do this." She says loudly, drowning him out.

"Do what exactly?" he asks, suspicious.

Twenty minutes later they are standing in front of two-foot long waterslide as several four-year-olds chase each around their legs.

"Let me get this straight. You knocked me out and drove me five hours to this?" he asks, incredulously, gesturing at the garden hose running water over one of the slides.

"This was one of my favorite places when I was little. It made everything in the world seem a little bit better," she says. "In my defense, I remember it being a bit bigger. And less sketchy," she finishes, eying a worker who is missing a few teeth. She hopes he'll find this whole situation humorous, but he narrows his eyes, mutters, "I don't have time for this" and stalks out of the room.

She follows him into the older kids' waterslide area. A fake tree house with water pumping from various angles sits on one side as he searches for the nearest exit.

"Alek. . ." she says, but he ignores her.

"Alek!" she shouts and he finally turns and looks at her.

"What?" he shouts back. In the corner of her eye, she can see a few parents watching them.

"Stop. I brought you here so that we could relax a bit and maybe try to have fun."

"Fun," he says dryly.

"Yeah, fun. That thing you and I used to have every once in a while before everything . . . went bad," she finishes, quietly.

He shakes his head. "No. We're leaving." He turns and looks around. "How do we get out of this place? It's like a maze. Unbelievable . . ." He starts walking again.

"No, we're not leaving," she says, resolutely.

"Yes, we are."

"No."

"Chloe," he says, impatiently.

"Alek," she says, mockingly.

He staring at her and the look in his eyes is different. Familiar, almost. How things were in the before.

She counts three breaths before leaning down and dipping her hand into the pool water. She swirls it around a bit before quickly raising it and splashing him.

He looks shocked as the water drips down his hair and onto his nose.

"You did not just do that."

"Yes, I did."

"Chloe. Please," he asks, his voice pleading with her. It's almost enough for her to give in, to give him what he wants, to do anything to make the pain disappear.

But she decides against it. She's coming back alive and in order to do that, she needs him alive too. She knows that now.

So she shakes her head. "No."

His eyes flash angrily, but it's not the anger that is reserved for his brother or the Order or that stupid barista at the campus coffee shop who can never make his latte right. No, this is the anger that is reserved only for her.

She feels a fleeting jolt of hope when she sees it, but before she knows it, he is lunging at her and they both fall backwards into the pool.

They are completely clothed and he keeps trying to dunk her and she's wishing she hadn't worn her knee-high boots, because they are really quite heavy when wet, but she fights her way to the surface and jumps on his back as they tumble around in the crystal clear water.

She hears a noise she's not familiar with and realizes that it's coming from her own throat.

Laughter.

They get thrown out for "disorderly conduct." She's never been kicked out of a place before and it feels exhilarating.

Less exhilarating, however, is the five hour drive ahead of them, so they find a nearby hotel and check-in. He's about to ask for separate rooms, but she stops him and requests one room, two double beds.

She doesn't want to be alone and she knows he doesn't either.

They take turns showering and lie on their stomachs while they watch "Saved by the Bell" reruns and eat peanuts from the hotel mini bar.

As Zach Morris manages to outsmart Mr. Belding yet again, he turns to her and asks her why she brought him there. Really.

She shrugs. "You were dying. And I needed to save you."

He scoffs when she says that, but she holds up a hand and moves closer to him. "No, hear me out. That day when I was so messed up about Brian that I couldn't even get out of bed, but I had my AP History final exam, what did you do?"

"I woke you up and brought you coffee and started the shower for you and drove you to school."

"Right. Simple little actions. But in doing those, you saved me. You saved my future. It sounds kind of stupid, I know. One test in the huge, grand scheme of life, especially with everything we've been through, but you knew how hard I had worked in that class and how much it meant to my mom and you did what I needed, even though I didn't realize I needed it at the time. So this is me, returning the favor," she says.

He thinks about that for a minute and she thinks he's still angry with her, but he says with a smirk, "So you're the protector, now?"

She smiles back. "Something like that."

Hours later she wakes up to a television infomercial, her arm around his waist, her head buried into his chest as his rests on top of hers and she realizes that for the first time in a long time, they both slept soundly through the night.

They don't instantly fall in love.

It's not rainbows and butterflies and hearts scribbled in notebooks.

They're both too damaged for those things.

They still have battles to fight, both external (hers) and internal (his).

But they do come together eventually. It happens over an overdue library book.

She's frantically searching her dorm room, looking for "The Second Self: Computers and the Human Spirit," when he walks in (he doesn't knock, he never knocks).

She looks annoyed for a second, before he takes in her frenzied appearance and asks what's wrong.

"I can't find my library book. Can you look over there? I swear the librarian already hates me and I don't want to piss her off even more. . ."

"Chloe," he says.

"It's got to be around here somewhere. Unless. . . oh no, what if I left it the campus center? I'm never going to find it then." She keeps digging under her bed.

"Chloe. . ." he says again.

"What?" she says, finally paying attention, looking up from her position on the floor.

"I returned it for you. You left it in my room a couple nights ago and I knew you were finished with it and that it would be overdue soon, so I dropped it off."

She stands up and blinks. "But you hate the library. You said it smells like old feet and your Aunt Bertha."

He smiles then. "It does."

She looks at him for half a second before reaching up and kissing him.

He seems unsure at first, but then begins to respond, pulling her closer and not letting go.

She plays with the ends of his hair and presses even further into him, the kiss becoming deeper and more intense, to show him that she's not letting go either.

Six months later, he goes with her to visit Brian's grave. This was one trip she always made on her own, but now. . . well now things are different.

Now they are older and more mature and can maybe handle this whole thing better.

She places one daisy on top of his stone and lightly traces her fingertips over the engraved letters. He stands back and watches her.

As they walk away, she clears her throat. "I need you to know something."

They are at the car now and he opens her door, before heading around to his own.

"Okay," he says as they get in.

"I know you heard me say I loved him. And I did. But I have to think that no matter what happened, we would have landed right here. Don't you?"

He breathes out and smiles, genuinely smiles at her.

"Yeah, I do." He leans forward and kisses her forehead, as she reaches up and touches his face. As she brushes some of his hair out of his eyes, he asks, quietly, "Where to?"

"Home?"

He smiles at her and she knows that she's already there.

Thanks for reading and reviewing. Love to all!