Goodbye, Mom. (AH/Closed)

Allen pulled on the velcro strap attached to the wrist of his glove, bringing it around and pressing down gently. He pulled on the glove to his other side as well, sitting down in the basement, alone. It had been several weeks, well over a month, since his mother died. Longer than that, since Phoebe was taken. His frustration had been growing for a long time- with the other gangs, with Leon, with Aaron and with the inaction regarding RIOT. With this idea of appeasement. Yet...he stomached it. Otherwise, LG was seen as a group that fought with it's heart instead of it's head. That's what Hyperion said, right? What they meant when they said they couldn't let emotion rule everything they do? That pride got in their way?

He stood, shirtless and in shorts, walking over to the bag. He stretched his arms above his head, then swung them from side to side, trying to ease out the soreness from yesterday. And the day before. He threw a light jab at the bag, it's thud seeming dull and far away. His next punch sounded in his ears like a drum, but still dull, and as he started punching his eyes drifted far away.

"Allen, C'mere and give me a hand, would you? Get the step ladder from beside the fridge. Aughh biiig strooong man."

Allen picked up the ladder and waddled over next to his mom, who stood at the counter kneading bread. There was poweder everywhere, and Aaron and Phoebe had gone out to practice her boxing. Allen was never brought along for these trips- not that he cared. Fighting wasn't for him. He always got scared when he watched his sister punch out another kid her age- at only 7. She seemed so determined and strong and just so young. He would lean against his mothers arm at times like that, moving his Skeletor and he-man into their epic confrontations. He could see Aaron sitting down at the front, cheering her on, letting out a howl as she KO'd some insignificant kid. Allen turned his face away. No...he would never do that to someone.

Allen set up the ladder, crawling up. He was maybe four years old at the time, and some of his favorite things was helping his mom put smallter things into the blender. She would laugh and tickle him- it was one of the few things he actually loved to do with his mother. He reached out, and could feel the thick smushy dough. His mom grinned and brough up a hand, brushing a bit of the flour off on his nose, caughting him to blink and jerk back just a little, eyes going cross-eyed as he stared at the powder. He looked back to her and giggled, clapping his hands and haunching over a bit before standing and pressing a hand to the outside of her left arm, leaving a small handprint. She gasped in mock surprise.

"Heeeeeey! You-!"

She bent and kissed-blew raspberries into his neck, causing him to burst out into a loud fit of laughter, hands coming up to either side of her neck. She gently rubbed her nose (eskimo kisses) over his, some of the powder brushing off on her.

"Come on little man, lets you and me cook up a storm!"

Allen giggled and nodded again, hands moving back to the counter to-

WUMP.

The punching bag snapped, flying off the stand and rupturing against the far wall. Allen turned and grabbed the metal frame, lifting it and hurling it into the window, missing and smashing it against the wall and sending it crashing to the floor. His teeth were clenched as tears started pouring down his face. He dipped into a crouch, hands coming up into his hair as he took several steadying breaths, trying to calm himself down from going into full sobbing. He stood and slowly walked over, picking up the stand. He walked it back over and stood it up, then grabbed the duct tape from a small broom closet and walked over, repairing the rupture....again. Lifting it with one arm, he hung it back up and started punching again, throwing in a light kick as sweat started to roll down his form. Aaron....Phoebe...he stuck clear of them now. Stuck clear of everyone, for the most part. It was easy to laugh and put on a smile- to pretend all was right with the world. Phoebe was bandaged and barely healing from her events, and Aaron always thought he should grow up and be a man about things, to stop letting his feelings get in the way. Allen didn't let them get in the way- he let them drive him.

Perhaps that was the problem.

Perhaps his drive to do what was right for his friends and his family was the weakness that Riot was looking for. Maybe Valo saw that too late, like him, and had to learn that tough decisions meant sacrificing the moral integrity you hold dear. Allen didn't know if he could do that. If he could just forget everything his mother and father taught him. What Phoebe and Aaron held dear. If he did, would they understand? If he were to set aside the good person he wanted to become, he knew he was deep inside and be a little monster...just for a while....would they be able to come to terms with that? It would eat phoebe alive, he knew. She would constantly worry. Aaron wouldn't care as much. Would his mother agree with his methods? Would she be able to take her hands and put them on either side of his face and say "I'm proud of you?"

Would she be proud?

"Allen....could you find your sister, please?"

Allen rolled his eyes, crawling out of bed and heading for the door. He opened it and shouted at the top of his lungs. "PHOEBE!?" There was no answer, just a sigh from downstairs. He called down to his mom. "She's not here mom." and closed the door. He went back in and flopped onto his bed. It was their week to finally spend with mom, the one or two times a year she could actually hang around. Unlike Phoebe or Aaron, he wasn't about to hang on her every word. He was fourteen now! She needed to know that the friends she had stop by and the maids she had come to visit or clean weren't good enough to clear her in his book. She used to hang around for months at a time, but drifted further and further and further apart as her demands at work became more and more taxing. She talked all the time about wanting to quit, but that her patients would need time to find a new primary. It didn't matter to him- she could just stay away, for all he cared.

"Allen- I need you to find her so we can get going. We're gonna be late for the movie!"

Phoebe piped up.

"Oh, I'm here mom. Sorry, I was outside practicing."

There was a sigh, then footsteps coming up the stairs. His door opened, and his mom stared at his prone form, reading a book. She put a hand on her hip, noticing his shoes and socks were off and he was still wearing pajama bottoms. It was only six thirty. She would knock, causing him to remove the headphones that were in his ears to look over at her. He felt a pang somewhere inside, the look on her face said "well".

He waved her off.

"Go without me. I'm good. My stomach hurts and stuff."

A lie spoken as he put his headphones back in. His mom came over and sat on the edge of the bed, gently reaching over and gripping the top of the book and bringing it down. She looked him in the eyes and removed one of the headphones.

"I have to go again tomorrow- I won't be back for a few months. Possibly almost a year. But I've requested time off after- almost three months. I know I've been gone alot and I' am really sorry...I just want to spend a little time with you in one last rush before I go. Can you spare me just a little time?"

Allen would roll his eyes.

"Mom, you always say that. Once it happens I'll believe it. I'm good, I said my stomach hurts anyway. You guys have fun." He was obviously, overtly stubborn.

She sighed, and stood, heading back over to the door and gently closing it. He heard her calling out for Phoebe to head out to the car as he turned the page of his book. He didn't know it would be the last time he saw her. He didn't know that she would be dead just a few short months later. He didn't know she would never smile again or ask him to a movie again or do...anything again. He didn't know-

Allen snapped back. He rested his forehead against the bag and stared down at the ground. He'd been down here since what....three-thirty am? The sun was up now...he must have missed his first class. Still, his eyes were unfocused, his hair matted with sweat. Water bottles were littered about- he didn't even remember drinking anything. The bag was busted up and retaped several times. Aaron would have to buy another one. He wasn't sad now. Now, again, he was nothing. Just a quiet and calm anger.

He knew that he felt connected to his mother in a way most would probably call "mommas boy"ish, but he never cared. He liked being called that, because he was. His mother meant everything to him. Even though he was sometimes rude, and abrasive. Sometimes he was a downright spoiled little shit. But he sent her cards on christmas, gifts on her birthday....he called her when he could and told her he missed her. It was...just that once, right? Just one time that he disregarded her. Shrugged her off. Pretended like she meant nothing to him. He just hated to see her go. Hated to know that she would be away from them. Not able to cook or play boardgames or shout at them to clean their rooms. He was just....angry. That was understandable, wasn't it?

"Hey! Just calling from Germany. I did it! I've been approved for three months. I'll be back in July and staying for the whole summer you guys! I love you three very much, and I really look forward to getting to know my kids again. Tell Phoebe and Aaron I said hello, for the life of me I can't remember the home phone number. Anyway, see you soon!"

The voicemail was stuffed away in his room, on his old phone, with the charger in case he ever wanted to hear it. He wanted to...no...he listened to it every morning, just before coming down here. Allen lept back and then forward, throwing out a flying roundhouse that shredded the bag in half before he stood, fists clenched. He tore off his gloves and turned away, leaving it like that. Heading upstairs he grabbed another water bottle and downed it, turning to the door. Aaron stepped out of the living room, taking him by the arm and stopping him in his tracks. Allen looked down at the grip, then slowly turned his eyes up to Aaron.

"Hey! Hold up. What's going on with you? You haven't been to school for a few da-"

Allen slapped his older brothers hand off his arm.

"Don't touch me. You aren't my father."

He would swing open the door and walk out, walking over to the hose and filling the bottle, leaving Aaron standing there confused, scratching his head. Allen took off at a jog, trying not to focus on him. He had to focus on RIOT. On the Captain. On LG. On getting stronger.

'I'm sorry mom....I won't let them get away with it. With stealing everything you were from the world. I promise."

OOC: 2030 words not including markup or OOC comments.