The Heir and the Thief (closed for FoxRoast41 & asetikish)

[FoxRoast41]

"I'm sorry, Grant..." The rest of the doctor's words became a buzzing blur, as Grant's head filled with the sound of his accelerating heart - its painful drum filled his head even as his chest emptied out, the pit in his stomach becoming infinitely deep,*his world falling out beneath him.*The last thing he saw before breaking down was the doctor casting his gaze to the ground, clutching his surgical hat to his chest. Mom was gone too.

The car accident that*had ripped Grant's parents from his fourteen-year old life, had also jettisoned him from that life into the life of his Uncle Jim and Aunty Laura. He would be living with them now. On his way to their estate, he sat in the back of the limousine, his normally sparkling green eyes sitting limp in his sunken*face as he stared out the window. That his Aunt hadn't even come to the hospital to commiserate the death of her own sister hadn't even crossed his mind. All he knew in that moment was that his parents were gone, along with his former life. He didn't have it in him to think about what might lie ahead.*Grant's tears dropped quietly down his cheeks, images of the three of them - Grant, Mom and Dad - at the dining table, planning their trip to Yosemite next week, going over the list of things they needed to take along for their highly anticipated backpacking trip. The Harrington's were an outdoors family. Grant's father was a teacher and his Mom a secretary at a law firm, but the two of them loved spending ever free moment outside - whether it was in the little garden of their one-story home in Northern California or out hiking or camping, they loved being with mother nature, and they had raised Grant the same. Grant was never seen in anything other than jeans and a t-shirt, and that too usually with dirt stains over the knees. The Harringtons had a simple life, the three of them together. The two earned enough to live comfortably enough, and Grant had never felt that he was wanting in anything. Instead of sitting glary-eyed in front of a screen, most of his childhood had been outside with his parents, or with other boys whose parents valued the same thing. Grant was doing well in school, was planning on going to college, maybe becoming a professor in something or the other, and spending the rest of his life hiking the world.

But that was 7 hours ago.

Now, as his parents bodies were being inserted into the freezer at the hospital for the night, Grant was pulling up to the grant iron gates of the Band Estate. James and Laura Band were the co-CEO's of Band Corp, a multinational business entity that produced everything from nail polish to parts for stealth bombers. Laura Band had never been able to produce a child, and so James and Laura Band always felt lacking in this very important sphere of life: until Laura's sister and her husband died.

"He's here, Jim." Laura pulled away from the curtains that overlooked their front drive. Jim pulled her in for a hug as she did. Laura quietly sobbed into her husband's shoulder. "I can't believe she's gone..."

Jim placed his hand on his wife's back. "I know. I can't imagine what it must be like for him."

Laura pulled back from her husband and looked into his eyes, wiping a tear off her cheek her deep brown eyes seemed to shine with an unnatural keenness. "But we're gonna take care of him, Jim. He'll be the son we never had. He'll be our inheritor. He can take over the business from us when we're done. He'll keep the money in the family at least."*

Jim nodded. "Yes, dear. As horrible as it is, there may yet be a silver lining to it all."

Laura agreed. The doorbell rang.*


* * *


Six months later, the grand double doors of the Band estate burst open, and Grant Harrington, clad in neatly pressed, hundred-dollar khakis and a light blue button-down shirt, bolted into the driveway and out of the iron gates just as they closed behind a car making its way into the property.

"Grant!" Jim Band scuttled out the front door, out of breath, "She didn't mean it! Come back!"

Grant could hear his uncle yelling something, but he couldn't hear his words, nor did he care to hear them. His legs carried him as fast as they possibly could away from that man and his wretched wife, His chest burning as it heaved, he ran down the hill, leaving the isolated estate behind him. Then it occurred to him that his uncle might send one of the servants after him in a vehicle. With this thought, Grant, with his scruffy, gelled up brown hair, green eyes and prep-boy costume, turned into the thick woods that lined the side of the road. He ran through the forest as fast as he could, leaping over a log here, ducking under a branch there, until he came to another main road. By this time he was drenched in sweat, but his mind was racing and his body, still following its command, ran down the road in the direction he thought was away from his so-called home.

He ran until he ran out of steam, and then he walked until he ran out of daylight.

Grant plopped down on the side of this random, pot-hole filled road in the middle of nowhere, crossed his legs, hung his head and began sobbing.

After he stopped - out of sheer exhaustion - he looked up to see the bright headlights of a white van approaching.

 

[asetikish]

You make it in this world through lies and deceit. That was what Jenna grew up knowing. She never knew any other family, but the band of thieves who raised her. She didn't go to school, but the thieves taught her how to read, write and do numbers. Anything taught by school beyond that was unimportant. Instead, she was taught other more...manual things. Picking locks, casually stealing while walking, using a knife and a gun to defend herself, making sure she could climb and jump off buildings...

Things thieves couldn't do without.

The one thing they didn't count on though was her complete and utter love for knowledge. She stole books and food most of the time, and there were times when she stole library cards so she could read at the public library. While most of the gang would get pissed off at her, Scott, their leader, saw it as an opportunity. He had her study technology until she became a hacker good enough to get in and out of the Pentagon undetected, with a few files just for fun.

Jenna was hacking surveillance in rich people's houses to see where the gang would hit next, beside her Clark stopped the noisy sipping of his soda and pointed at her screen.

"Oh for the love of...Clark!" Jenna swatted his hand away. "You're getting sugar on my screen. Seriously!"

"No, look."

"So?" Jenna raised an eyebrow at him. "The kid seems to be upset and running away. Normal rich brat stuff. What's the big deal?"

"Yo Scott!" Clark shouted to their boss. "The kid's running away from home."

Scott twisted around the passenger seat of the van they were operating in. "Which one?"

"The Band estate," Jenna said. "We could use the commotion to break in. Or I could make more dist--"

"Screw that. We're holding the kid for ransom." Scott turned to Clark to give the driver directions and barked at the other two in the van for orders.

Kidnapping? Jenna blinked. Sure, they've broken in, stole from people...but they've never threatened a kid before. They've conned and lied and cheated, but kidnapping means exchanging life for money. The idea wasn't settling well with Jenna.

"Hey, Scott? If the parents don't give the money?"

"We off the kid." Scott rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't look at me like that. Kid's probably a rich douche anyway. We don't need more of those."

"But I thought you said, we don't harm kids."

"Kids like you, of course. You're poor and you don't need the extra shit. Besides, you have your use. This kid is only good for the cash." He paused. "What's the Band kid's name again?"

Jenna scrolled quickly on her computer. "Grant."

"There!" Clark said, pointing straight ahead.

"I really think we should think about this first before--"

"Move out!" Scott barked and that left Ricardo, the driver and her in the van as everyone filed out.

They weren't gone long. In a few moments, they had the kid knocked out, a sack over his head, hands and feet tied. Jenna looked at him on the van floor as they drove away, pity knotted in the pit of her stomach. A nagging feeling telling her that this wasn't right.

"Scott, you sure about this? We haven't thought this through. What if they call the cops?"

"We call, you hack into the system and see if there's a wiretap. Redirect that wiretap and we break one of the kid's fingers if they continue listening in after a three second warning. Hack into a bank, create a new account and we'll have them wire the money there. Make several transfers, void the accounts and remove any digital fingerprint--"

"Footprint," Jenna interrupted to correct him.

"Whatever print. And we're gone."

"What about him?" Jenna nodded at the kid.

Scott shrugged. "Rough him up a little. Make him feel scared so he could talk to them all crying and helpless. The more emotions they have, the more we can manipulate him."

Jenna huffed and faced back at her screen. "Drop me off at the bank now. I need to check their networks. See if I can still do it remotely or if I need to have physical access."

-----

Jenna came back to the hideout in a warehouse near the docks finding Grant tied to a chair coughing and doubled over. She trotted toward him as the guys around her sneered cracking their knuckles. Her stomach clenched knowing exactly what happened.

"Are you guys nuts!" She pushed Ty away as he readied another punch at Grant.

"Just a little roughing up," Clark grinned.

"Come on, princess. It's just a little fun," Ricardo laughed.

Jenna growled at him and set her backpack down peering at Grant. He was sporting a split lip and a bruise bloomed at the side of his face.

"Scott didn't say anything about making him unrecognizable!" Jenna growled. "Where is he?"

"Checking out cop movements. He's hoping they don't have connection to the Feds. That's going to be a pain in the ass," Jord said hanging back.

Jenna sighed. "That's enough roughing up for now."

Ty laughed. "Yeah. Scott's gonna break his fingers later anyway. Hey, you guys up for a drink?"

"Sure," Clark grinned. "Jenna, you're on guard duty."

Jenna clicked her tongue and sighed sitting cross legged in front of Grant as the guys left them to go up to one of the rooms. Clark was second in command, and without Scott, they answered to him. And because of that, she was on guard duty even if she was going to be the most tired out of all of them.

In the back of her head, she still felt the wrongness of all this. They did not threaten, hurt and kill teenagers. The children were not the bastards who decide to get rich and take everything for themselves. That included Grant. Even though his family did basically own the country with their holdings. She opened her backpack and brought out a bottle of water. "Thirsty?"

 

[FoxRoast41]

When Grant had entered his uncle and aunt's house, he was greeted by a sobbing Aunt Laura who embraced him, pulling him tight into her. He had seen her once several years ago at a family reunion - they had pulled up in their company limousine, shook everyone's hand, gave Grant's parents a hug while everyone watched, and then left. They had fulfilled their duty.

And that was exactly how Aunt Laura's hug felt. Like she was fulfilling a duty.

The two of them had sat Grant down and spent - a minute? - commiserating - before moving on to all the things Grant would have now that he was "like our son". Grant's mind wasn't registering anything they had said - he heard a long list of words that buzzed in and out of his head - things like, "pool", "tennis courts", "the library", "personal tutor"... and when they were done, they peered in at him like an estranged wild cat in a zoo cage, waiting for him to do something.

Grant had been staring fixedly at the ground. He had only one question for them.

"Why didn't you come to the hospital?" He didn't move his gaze from the ground. There was no response. Grant felt anger rising within him. He raised his voice, this time glaring at his aunt. "Why didn't you come to the hospital?!"

Aunt Laura raised her eye brows and fluttered her lids, sitting up straight, caught off guard. "I... I, uh... my dear, I was just too... I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle seeing my little sister... like that." She let her head drop into her hands.

What a lying bitch

* * *
Over the next six months it became very apparent to Grant that his uncle and aunt had far less interest in him as a person as they did in his blood line and name (now changed to Band of course) and the fact that he would be the heir to Band Corp. Everything was about preparing for that "future".

"You must dress the part, Grant."

"Gotta learn accounting, Grant. It's the basics."

"Come, we're gonna teach you the art of the deal."

"Chin up, come on! You don't want to depress the people around you! You're gonna be a leader"

If Grant has spent his childhood living a simple, happy, outdoors life with his mother and father, the six months between their death and the chair that he sat tied up in now, had filled him with pent up rage. Having not had the chance to grieve his parents' loss, not knowing where else to go, he had felt compelled to stay with his uncle and aunt and abide by the life they had wanted for him. He had felt cornered. And he didn't know what to think or do.

He began to hate. He hated his uncle and aunt, and then he hated himself for hating them. He hated their wealth. He hated their big house. He hated the clothes they made him wear. He hated the personal tutors they hired to teach him so that he wouldn't have to be "spoiled by bad influences" in high school. He hated the prison they had kept him, until that fateful day when he had exploded, screaming at them, that they cared for nothing truly other than their damn company... and left.

And now... right now, all he knew was that he felt grateful that the pain in his lip stung enough that it distracted him from the ache in his belly.

Thirsty?

Grant nodded, and gratefully lifted his mouth to the bottle as the girl tilted its cool, refreshing contents into his mouth. One side of Grant's face had started to swell, making it hard to see from that eye. But the other eye was still good. And from that vantage point the girl in front of him was beautiful. Not that it mattered.

"If you think," Grant coughed on some blood that trickled down the back of his throat, "if you think that those two pricks will give you money for me, you're right. They'll give you anything. They'll want me back no matter what." Grant paused.

"I'd rather you kill me."

Grant paused for a moment and thought it out. This girl was the only one that seemed to have a soft side to her. Might as well ask, you got nothing to lose...

"But, please, just try to convince them to make it quick. I don't mind the breaking the finger bit, but when my time comes - can you just put a bullet to my head?"

 

[asetikish]

Jenna tried to be gentle pouring water into his mouth, but in their situation, water still spilled from his mouth down to his chin. She stopped as he pulled away and she stared dumbfounded at the words that spilled from his mouth. Well, at the water that trickled down his neck disappearing under his shirt...

Um...yeah, Jenna. Not the time.

She forced her dark eyes to stare at his as he continued to ask for death. It wasn't what she expected. Rich people lived good lives. They were pampered. Given the best life has to offer. He wore branded expensive clothing while she wore a dark tank top from a thrift shop and a pair of jeans that she cut into shorts to fit her as she grew up.

"I...don't understand..." she looked at him with pure confusion. "You have everything. You can get anything you want. Do whatever you want to do without being scared of the law every single waking moment. You have the finest education the world has to offer so you can make your life into something one day. And you have the money. You don't have to resort to...well...what we're doing right now, just to make sure you don't go hungry or to feed your family. Why would you want to die?"

Jenna shook her head. "You have a family who would want you back. I never even had a family. These guys took care of me so I can do what they can't. And the code is, one of us gets caught? Goodbye. You know, if I could just have a normal life, I would. But..."

She paused, realizing she was rambling and then peered at his eyes, oozing hatred about...something.

"Maybe I don't have the answers. And maybe I don't have any right to say anything, but..." She took a deep breath. "You're a Band. Well, your uncle and aunt are bands and you're their kid now, which makes you a Band. You can change the world with your empire. So I'm sure you hate us with what's going on right now, but..."

She looked up at the room where the rest of the gang were laughing and drinking. The light in the room steady. Taking out a knife, she hesitated, the sharp edge of the tip pointed at him. Maybe he hated them for kidnapping him. Hated them for hurting him. And hated them for the pain they were causing him. His parents would take him back, and there was no way Scott was going to kill him if he was going to get money from them. So maybe that hatred was a boiling pot of tar he would pour over their heads once he was out of here.

But still...why did he ask her to kill him?

Maybe he didn't like getting hurt? She sighed and thought about what she was going to do. Getting him out would be easy. Especially without Scott to run the ship tightly. Clark wasn't that a good leader yet. And he didn't plan for contingencies. Which makes this instance the perfect time for her to let Grant go.

This was all just wrong. Hurting someone. Threatening to kill them. They stole. They broke in. They impersonated people. But they don't hurt anyone unless they fought back. That was what Scott's predecessor, Nick, taught them. The less people hurt, the less complicated things were. And that was why they were still doing well and safely out of the radar of the cops.

Finally, she moved the knife away from his face and cut him lose. "I'll take you to the nearest precinct. There's one a few minutes walk from here--can you walk?" She shook her head. "No, you have to walk. I can't take the van. Key's still with Ricardo. No one's going to get killed tonight. Or hurt any more than they need to be. This isn't who we are..."

Jenna sighed and stood up, offering her hand. "Lean on me if it hurts too much. And we have to hurry. I don't want Scott seeing you leave. You will really be in trouble. I'll be fine though," she smiled. "They need me."

Well, not really. They would hurt her really badly, but he didn't have to know that.

 

[FoxRoast41]

You don't have to resort to...well...what we're doing right now, just to make sure you don't go hungry or to feed your family... You can change the world with your empire.

Those words echoed through Grant's mind, but before he could correct her for calling him a Band, and before he could realize how much those words would change him, he was on his feet, his hands free, his one arm draped around the pretty (and strong) girl's shoulder. One of the gang bangers had kicked him hard in the shin, and so he limped along with her, his legs carrying him as he tried to process what was happening. Somehow - and he had no idea why - he felt relieved. Just a moment ago he was imagining one of the brutes in the back lifting a gun to his head and ending his misery, but now...

"Uh... thanks... I guess," Grant was able to mumble as they hurried past a stack of crates to move out of the warehouse from a side door. Grant couldn't help himself. "I'm not a Band. I'm a Harrington. And those people I live with..." Grant wanted to call them fakes; he wanted to call them selfish, self-absorbed pricks... but the girl's words echoed in his mind...

You don't have to resort to what we're doing right now, just to make sure you don't go hungry or to feed your family... You can change the world with your empire.

The two hurried along to the edge of the warehouse's property, where there was a chain-linked fence. There was a small cut in a section of it, enough for Grant to squeeze through and into the woods on the other side. He stopped and slid his arm off the girl. She was beautiful. It was a pity that-

"Hey! Where the hell is boy!? Where's Jenna?!" He heard the yelling off in the distance.

"Thank you for saying what you did..." Grant could see there was not going to be time for a long goodbye. He reached out and held her hand in both of his and looked deeply into her beautiful brown eyes. In what must have been the first moment he had seen anyone through something other than hatred since his parents had died, he leaned in, whipsered, "thank you," and then squeezed through the break in the fence.

 

[asetikish]

Grant was just as heavy as he looked, but Jenna was stronger than she looked. She might be a slender geek, but she wasn't an emaciated technophile. She unlocked the door and tried to drag him off as fast as she could with how he obviously hurt.

"I'm not a Band. I'm a Harrington. And those people I live with..."

Jenna waited for the rest, but he didn't continue. Band. Harrington. It didn't matter. He was the heir to the Band family fortune. The sole heir. He was a Band to the eyes of the world no matter what he said. She wanted to tell him that but she kept her mouth shut. He seemed to have a lot on his mind and she needed him to concentrate on walking.

They reached the little hole in the fence and she kicked it open to let it fold over itself. She was about to put him down gently when he pulled away from her. She looked at him surprised. He still looked like he was going to keel over as he stood hunched before her, still obviously in pain. She opened her mouth to ask but she was cut off as her gang finally noticed her gone.

A shiver ran down her spine. Scott was back.

She looked back at the warehouse her mind reeling. She could stay here and stall, but would he be okay? In his state he--

Her thoughts stopped as he spoke to her and held her hands. She felt a strange warmth course through her, and a tingling that went down to the tips of her toes. And his eyes...they changed. He leaned in and whispered her thanks and she held her breath, a little stunned at what was happening. And as quickly as he held her, he was gone, squeezing through the fence by himself.

She wanted to call out to him, but any louder than a whisper and they would find him out. Instead, she whispered, "good luck" and went around the fence to the other side before heading back to the warehouse and bumping into Ty.

"There you are you little--Scott!" Ty shouted as his large hands held her wrists together behind her. She winced as he pulled them up causing her to go up on her toes.

Scott trotted up to her, glaring at her, her knife and the cut up ropes in his hand. "You let the brat go." It wasn't a question. There was no bluffing her way out of this. He had the evidence in his hands. "Where is he?"

"Nick didn't want us to hurt anyone!" Jenna glared back. The next thing she knew, her vision swam and she tasted blood on the inside of her cheeks as he backhanded her. Her shoulder screamed as she staggered to the right, twisting her arm even more. She righted herself to put a little weight off her aching shoulder.

"Nick's dead. I'm in charge now. Do you know what you've done?" Scott spat. "That brat saw out faces. He knew our names. Once he reports all of this, we're all done for. I should kill you...But no...Death is too good for you. We rot in jail, you rot along with us, but you won't be with us anymore. You're on your own. After I'm done with you." He turned to his other lackeys. "Look for him. He shouldn't have gotten far."

Jenna couldn't help the cold weight in her gut as Scott grabbed her hair and dragged her back to the warehouse. But even so, the only thing she could think of was Grant.

Please be safe. Please make it. At least one of us will.