*Hatchet*

"You sure you don't want to see your parent?" Hecate asked for the tenth time since she got back.

"For the last time! I don't want to see those crazy bastards."

"Are you suuure?"

I let out a loud yell before stalking back into the van, slamming the door behind me.

Ever since Hecate got back, Quin carrying her on his back, she'd refused to leave me alone. What the hell is up with her and wanting me to meet my parents?

I sat in my grumpy silence for a minute before the door slid open and closed, trapping me and Jacin alone inside.

Great.

He slid into the seat next to me, making me scoot a little so our shoulders weren't smashed against each other.

"What's up with you and your parents?" He asked.

"Ugh, not you too."

"Sorry, just curious."

I rolled my eyes, leaning back into the chair with my arms crossed.

"I'm an only child, like Quin, and I come from a long line of soldiers. And I mean long. I think one of my don't-know-how-many great uncles was a founder. So, as you can guess, everyone was excited when I officially became a Black Hand. My parents threw me a little party and everything. But, we didn't always agree on everything. Tuthfully, being a soldier was my eight in career choices. I honestly don't even remember what the rest are anymore.

"Anyways, my parents, of course, gave me this speech about my family. They told me about all my ancestors being great soldiers and about how it was my destiny or something to do just as great. So I did it. I thought, maybe I don't get to be selfish about this one. Maybe-maybe this is what I'm meant to do. So I did and I-"

"Do you love your parents?"

"What?"

"Do you love your-"

"No, I heard you, it's just...why?"

"I told you, didn't I? My parents were killed by Black Hands." He looked at me, his deep eyes keeping me from looking away. "I would give anything to get to talk to them for ten more minutes. Anything. But I don't get that back. I don't get a goodbye."

"My parents probably wish I was dead after what I did. I doubt they'd want to say goodbye to me."

"But do you?"

"So what if I do?" I yelled, my temper snapping. "Of course I love them and of course I want to say goodbye to them but..."

"But nothing. You'll never get an opportunity like this again, so take it. Even if they don't want to see you, you want to see them. So go be selfish."

"But what if-"

"No."

"They won't want-"

"No. Go."

I nodded, pulling myself out of the cab to find Hecate smirking at me.

Damn them both.

---

I looked at the small house I grew up in. Like every other house in the neighborhood, it was a tannish brown color with a single garage.

"Hm," I heard Hecate him, even though I couldn't see her, "I thought you'd be richer."

"My uncle is," I answered, tugging her towards the front door, "but we're not all that rich."

Hecate took the lead, pulling me through the front window. Literally through.

I shook it off, seeing as how this kind of thing was becoming normal. As horrifying as that was. Although, the thought of being able to do that someday was becoming less and less horrifying.

"You can put down the invisibility."

With no real way to tell whether she did or not, I let go of her hand and started walking to the dining room.

Six thirty. About dinner time.

I tuned the corner into the dining room. Both my parents were staring at me, wide eyed.

My mothers perfect lips were parted, terror clear in her eyes.

"Michael," she mumbled. "You're-" her eyes found Hecate next. "You."

My dad jumped, grabbing hold of the gun he usually kept strapped to his waist and aiming it at the queen.

My body moved instinctually to step in front of her, but her fingers already snapped.

The gun ripped out of my dads calloused hands and landed in hers.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Hecate said, her voice clearly exhausted, "I'm only here for him."

Both my parents turned to me, their glares set.

"Unless you're here to grovel," my mom said, standing, "and beg for forgiveness, I don't want to hear what you want to say."

"I'm not."

"Then get. Out."

"No."

I grabbed whatever courage I had in me and looked at them, both of them. They were standing, my moms hand resting on her waist. Their eyes switched between me and Hecate, like they were deciding who to shoot first.

I took a breath, and then I spoke. "I know you probably don't care, but I guess this is kinda my goodbye. I probably won't be coming back again, so this is it.

"Mom, Dad. I love both of you so much, even if you didn't. Um, I wasn't forced to join the magicians, and I didn't think I was going to when I saved Hecate. The only reason I did was because Quin asked me to help. And no, he didn't force me either. It was my own choice. And it became more than that."

I looked at Hecate and held my hand out, using the little focus I'd trained whenever I could to get, and made the gun float.

I looked back to my parents to see them glaring but shocked.

"If I stayed as a Black Hand, I probably would've been killed. She saved me and's teaching me to protect myself. She's teaching me to...to love myself."

The room was silent as my parents and my own eyes followed the gun down to the table. It dropped when I wavered, landing with a silent thud.

They looked at me with what I thought was love. So deep and full and trusting. Because they were my parents, and they loved me.

Call it wishful thinking.

Because I was wrong.

My dad lunged, grabbing the gun and aiming it at, not Hecate's, but my own head.

The gun fired and I closed my eyes, ready to take the hit.

But there was a plink and then a thud. When I opened my eyes, a liquid green shield was barrier was floating in front of my eyes, and the bullet was laying on the floor.

I turned to Hecate, who was already grabbing my hand.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I'd give you more time but I can't. I'm so tired."

I knew we were invisible when we were out the window, but that didn't stop me from feeling Hecate stumble. She caught herself, but I didn't need her falling.

I pulled her to a stop before having her lean on my back.

Surprisingly, she don't complain of whine, but just jumped on. Her body was hot and sweaty against my back, and I wondered why she put so much effort into this. All of us were just ants to her, but she pushed herself so far as to pass out, if Quin's story was right.

*Jacin*

"They're taking forever," I told Quin. "Why're they taking forever?"

He didn't answer, and I knew he was just as worried as I was. After all, both of us were victims of the same disease. Unrequited love.

Heather yelled out, grabbing my attention. "They're coming."

I was already running to them, same as Quin.

Hecate was laying on Hatchet's back, sweating and nearly unconscious. Quin pulled her off and tried to fit her into his own arms. She tried to fight him off but wasn't quite strong enough.

Poor guy.

I, however, was saving the majority of my worry for Hatchet.

He looked...broken. His normally bright eyes were a whole new shade of sad. He didn't even have the strength to blush and look away when I caught his gaze. Instead, it lingered for a bit before he said, "We should get going."

Hecate was nodding in Quin's arms. "Yeah, probably. I don't think were in any condition to fight Black Hands. Let's make a stop in New York an see if we can't get Winny to heal me up. I'll drive."

"The hell you will," Heather said. "I'm driving. You'll more likely drive us into a wall."

Hecate smiled. "Going in style?"

"Uh-huh. No. Get in the back, I'm driving."

---

It was late. I'd pulled Hatchet in the back with me. Actually, he willingly followed me. Isn't that weird? Quin sat by Hecate in the middle row and Heather was driving. Well, she had been. She pulled over to stop for the night.

I glanced at Hatchet. "I know you're awake."

He turned, glancing at me. "I wasn't pretending to be asleep."

"I know, but you looked dead. Just had to make sure you weren't."

He gave me a half smile before looking out the window.

I scooted closer to him.

"Wanna tell me what happened?"

"No."

"Hat-"

"Michael."

"What?"

"I told you before, right? Didn't I? My names Michael, call me Michael now."

"Alright, Michael, then tell me what happened."

"I don't want to."

"I don't care. Tell me."

"What don't you understand about-"

I grabbed his cheeks, forcing him to look me in the eyes. His cheeks were red and puffy and he looked like a mess.

"Tell. Me. What. Happened."

He looked like he was about to start crying and I was scared I'd pushed him to far, but then he started to speak.

"When we got there...they're were eating dinner. Same time as always. Um, I thought everything was okay at first. Then Dad pulled a gun on me. Dad? Mom? I-I can't remember. One of them pulled a gun on me. I-I showed them my magic. I thought that if I did, they'd understand. And I think they might've for a second too. Cause I looked at them and I thought-I thought they loved me. Then-th-"

He stopped. Tears pouring down his face. His lip was pulled into a pout.

He looked so...broken.

*Michael*

He was watching me cry. I knew I should probably feel embarrassed, but I didn't. Not around him.

I tried to wipe my cheeks, but it was like trying to stop a faucet with broken handles.

"Then there was a gunshot," I finished. "My parents tried to-"

He grabbed me, pulling me into his chest.

"Don't," he whispered, while one of his hands rubbed up and down my back. "Just...stop."

He was crying. Even if I couldn't see it, I could hear it in his voice. He was crying. For me.

I don't know exactly what came over me in that moment, but it was a feeling I knew, but stronger. It's like what I've been feeling for the past few days was suddenly amplified by ten times, and if I didn't do something it'd tear me up from the inside.

So I did.

I pushed my hands against his chest and moved so we were face to face.

And then I kissed him.

*Jacin*

It was sloppy and tear filled, but everything felt right when he kissed me. The way his lips moved against mine.

My hands moved first, locking on his hips and holding him close to me.

And then my tongue slipped out, licking his lips, asking, worse, begging for entrance. And there wasn't a seconds hesitation before I was in his mouth, feeling every sweet nook and cranny of my beloved little magician. My beloved little-

"Michael," I said, moving him away.

He looked confused.

"No, I'm sorry, that I was bad," I stuttered, still tasting his sweet flavor on my lips. "That was really bad. I can't-I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

"You're not."

"You don't know that. You're sad and tired. You won't be like this in the morning."

"What if I am? What if I still feel exactly the same way?"

"If you do, the kiss me in the morning. After you're rested and after you feel better. Just not now."

He rolled his eyes but nodded anyways.

---

In the morning, I groggily recognized someone's lips against mine, instantly loving the sweet flavor.