Date: Fri, 16 Jan 2004 14:45:02 -0800
From: RC in Sacramento <sacwriter@hotmail.com>
Subject: Becka the Beast, final chapter

This is a work of fiction from a first time author. It depicts acts of sex
and sexuality between two teenage females. If such content disturbs you, or
you are under 18, get out and stay out. As always, this story can only be
reproduced by consent of the author.

Becka the Beast
by SacWriter

Chapter 27***

	They stood there, brother and two sisters, witness to the sounds of carnage
coming from the little bungalow. Becka hugged herself and shifted her feet
nervously, her anxiety obvious. By contrast Bobby and Gia seemed unnaturally
calm, listening to the banging and shouting with an almost professional
detachment. They were totally silent, except for once right after a
particularly large crash that signaled the abrupt ending of the television
noises.
	"There goes the TV,' Gia said, as calmly as if she were commenting on the
weather.
	"Was it a big screen?" Bobby asked.
	"Yeah. 42 inch plasma. Really nice."
	"Damn, what a waste."
	Becka listened to the exchange, and felt like shaking her head. What was
wrong with these two? Didn't they realize what was going on in there?
	The back door suddenly burst open, and three figures scrambled out, falling
over each other in their haste to get away. The one in the lead was nursing
an injured leg, and when he tripped and fell to the ground his fellow
escapees trampled him in their headlong rush. But he was back up and
following right behind in an instant. Halfway across the overgrown yard, the
two in the lead ran into Bobby.
	Becka blinked in surprise, she hadn't even seen her brother move, he was
just suddenly there. Instinctively she took a step forward, but Gia gripped
her arm and stopped her. She shook her head in the negative.
	"No, don't. You'll only get in the way."
	Becka hesitated, and in a few seconds realized that Gia was right. She
would have been in the way.
	The first man to reach her brother charged right at him, trying to barrel
over the slight young man like a freight train, but  Bobby was no longer
there. He stepped to the side and his right arm shot out, and as the much
larger man tried to pass it was as if he had run headlong into a
clothesline. His feet rose up and for a fleeting second his entire body hung
parallel to the ground, before gravity pulled him back down with stunning
force. Even as that happened, Bobby was rushing into combat with his next
two opponents.
	Later on she would decide that it was like watching a dance, a set of
choreographed moves performed by a professional. Or more like Baryshnikov
meets the Three Stooges. A punch would be thrown, and Bobby would lean back
or sway gracefully, avoiding it by inches. Then suddenly her brother would
strike back with a blow or a kick so smooth it looked like a tap, but his
target would jerk as if hit by a two by four. It was a Kung Fu movie but
without all the flash and the screaming, just the sounds of three guys who
had run into a human chainsaw. All in all it was a short performance, with
only one possible outcome.
	Becka stood with her mouth open, stunned, staring as the last of them
collapsed at the feet of her brother. The same quiet young man who had been
giving her tips on drawing architecture, and taught her how to play chess.
The brother who was breathing a little faster than normal, but was otherwise
unmarked by the incredible fight she had just witnessed.
	Gia was grinning hugely, enjoying the look on her face. She nodded towards
Bobby, her face glowing with pride.
	"Told you so. Dad, Jorge and Juan, they're like big old wrecking machines.
But `Berto... `Berto is a Matador!"
	Gia started forward then, and a bemused Becka followed, shaking her head.
	"No shit," she muttered.
				* * *
	Bobby looked up as his sisters approached. Gia was grinning at him so he
smiled back, then nodded at the three figures on the ground. "Recognize any
of these guys, Sis?" he said to the newest member of his family.
	Becka nodded, a strange look on her face as she stared down at the first
guy he had hit. The man was dressed like a biker, and had long greasy hair
that was going bald in front, and a beard to match. He was big and brawny,
and his forearms were covered with jailhouse tattoos. He was also holding
his jaw and groaning, and a trail of blood was snaking out of one nostril.
	"Yeah," Becka said, in a strangely disconnected voice. Bobby could almost
see the ghost of memories passing behind haunted eyes. "This one, he's Mikey
Pintauro, one of Ralph's crew. He used to get off by screwing me in front of
the others. Last year at Ralph's Super Bowl party, it was his idea to make
me the prize for the football pool. He kept throwing potato chips at me
between plays. Everybody thought that was funny."

On the ground Pintauro had rolled over onto his side and was staring up at
the blonde girl standing over him, repeating his sins in such a detached
tone. He spat blood on the overgrown  weeds when he recognized her, then
raised himself up onto one elbow and snarled.
	"You! You're Ralph's little cunt! You damned bitch, you're the one
who---achhhh!"
	Pintauro's vindictive rant was instantly cut off as he found himself
knocked back onto the ground, with that damned Mexican guy's foot grinding
down on his face. All the fight and false bravado suddenly left him,
replaced by the overwhelming need to breathe. The drug dealer tried to
struggle, to claw at the foot that was slowly smothering the life from him,
but it was like trying to move a telephone pole. Blackness was starting to
swirl around the edges of Mikey's eyes, when the pressure was suddenly
released, letting him draw in a ragged breath.

	 Bobby Cameron habitually wore the facade of a quiet, self possessed young
man. His nickname in the family was `Mr. Cool', but he had always known just
how false that handle was. Bobby was anything but cool, and in reality he
was a deeply passionate person. So passionate, in fact, that it often scared
him. He loved deeply, and hated even deeper, and he had no doubt that under
the right circumstances he could take someone's life with his bare hands. He
knew what he was capable of, knew in his heart just how easy it would be for
him to lose control if he ever let his temper get the better of him. The
knowledge was with him so much, that over the years he had developed a will
of iron just to keep that hot passion inside.
	But today Bobby had to fight harder than ever to master himself, to keep
the blood red fury from boiling over and making him do something he would
regret. What Becka had just told him about this guy, what he had done to
her, was tripping every emotional switch that he had. It would have been so
easy to let this degenerate piece of filth keep on breathing shoe leather
until he just wasn't breathing anymore. But he knew it probably wouldn't be
such a good idea, so instead he shifted his foot down to the bastard's
throat, applying just enough pressure to keep the guy honest. Bobby had to
swallow several times before he could allow himself to look in his sister's
eyes.
	In the end it was shame that saved Mikey Pintauro's life. Bobby Cameron
just couldn't stand the thought of ever showing that side of himself to the
people he loved.

	Gia's phone had chirrrped a minute ago, and she had stepped to the side to
answer it. She was obviously trying to concentrate on the conversation, so
she didn't witness what happened next. And Bobby and Becka were very careful
never to tell her.

	Becka nodded at him, and Bobby reluctantly took his foot off of Pintauro's
neck and stepped back. The hapless excuse for a human being rolled on his
side and made retching noises, but he didn't try to escape. Bobby looked
around and checked on his other two opponents, but they were also thoroughly
cowed and just cringed at his glance. He turned so that he could watch both
them and Pintauro at the same time, but otherwise dismissed the two from his
mind.
	His attention turned completely to Becka, who had stepped forward and was
squatting on her heels in front of Pintauro. She looked at him now, only
inches away, one of the men who had used her as an obscene little sex toy
for years. And yet here she crouched across from him without the slightest
sign of unease, without a sign of, well, of anything. Curiosity, perhaps,
like a scientist trying to classify a bug. But nothing else.
	Bobby knew that look. He had seen it on Becka's face before, in the
hospital. When she was in the prison ward facing down Ralph Danning. And
like Danning, it seemed to be having an affect on Pintauro, too.
	"You heard what happened to Ralph," Becka said softly, making it a
statement, not a question. The tone of voice she used was just like the
expression on her face, totally unreadable. It was as if she was saying `go
away or die, it's all the same to me'. Completely indifferent to him as
anything human. Pintauro was having trouble looking at her.
	"I said, you heard what happened to Ralph," Becka spoke again, and this
time Bobby saw the man twitch, but also nod. "I'm the one who did that to
him."
	Pintauro looked up, startled, but Bobby's little sister continued. "He
raped me with a beer bottle. I took it and broke it over his head, and then
I took the broken piece and stabbed him in the face. I stabbed him a lot. I
heard he lost the eye.
	"Then yesterday Mojo came to my school, and I did the same thing again.
Only that time I used a hunk of concrete on him. And I didn't just cut him
up, I smashed in the whole side of his face."
	Pintauro was gaping at her now, in shock. It was obvious that he couldn't
have been more surprised if she had said she was from Mars and ate babies
for lunch. When she reached out and slowly drew a fingertip across his
cheek, he cringed, and drew away. Bobby knew that she had been trying to
grow her nails out since she had moved in with them, and under the present
circumstances it was easy to imagine what that nail had felt like on the
other man's face.
	"Please," Pintauro whispered, almost sobbing. And Bobby knew that the big,
tough, baby raping drug dealer was broken.
	Becka continued to stare at him for a moment longer, and then abruptly rose
to her feet, taking a deep breath and looking away. When she finally met
Bobby's eyes he saw that `the look' was gone, and she was her old self
again. She returned her brother's gaze warily, as if unsure what his
reaction would be to the way she had handled Mikey Pintauro. But when he
nodded and gave her a tight little smile, she visibly relaxed. She even
managed to grin back.
	Gia stepped up at that moment, oblivious to what just happened. She was
closing her cell phone and slipping it into the pocket of her jeans.
	"Daddy says everything's all right inside, and that we can come in if we
want. He also says to let any of these guys go if Becka doesn't recognize
them. Babe?"
	Becka shook her head at the other two prisoners. "I don't know these guys.
They're just riff-raff, they probably heard that this was a good place to
crash and just showed up. You can let them go, Bobby."
	Bobby nodded, then turned a hard eyed stare on the two beaten men. "Go" he
said, simply, and they went. As fast as they damned well could.
	The young Latino then reached down and hauled Mikey Pintauro by the collar
and pulled him to his feet, at the same time grabbing him by the wrist and
doing something clever to it that made the man gasp in pain. He kept the
hold in place as he marched his prisoner across the yard and towards the
house, his sisters following close behind. He grinned when he heard their
conversation.
	"Jeez, Becka, I cannot believe you actually used the term `riff-raff' in a
sentence. That has got to be the dorkiest thing I've ever heard you say!"
	"Yeah, well, I can't help it. I've been picking up some bad habits since I
started hanging around with you."
	"ME! I've never used those words in my entire life!"
	"No, but you say dorky stuff like that all the time."
	"I do not!"
	"Do too. Last week you said Donald Warren was a goober. Who the hell uses
the word `goober'? What is that, some kind of peanut?"
	"Hey, that is a perfectly good and politically correct term. Besides,
Donald Warren is a total goober."

	Bobby chuckled softly as he and his prisoner mounted the back steps to the
door, feeling surprisingly good about the days' revelations. He had just
recognized a piece of himself in his new little sister, one of the dark
pieces, and he had found that it wasn't so bad after all.
	Becka was as capable of rage and violence as he was, she had proven that
twice now, but she had also passed on the opportunity to take revenge on one
of her abusers. In both of her fights she had fought back against the men
who had hurt her for so many years only when they had physically threatened
Gia, and then she had reacted as ferociously as a mother wolf defending her
cub. He understood her now. Becka was not into revenge but would do anything
she had to, no matter how violent or vicious, to protect someone she loved.
	Just as would Bobby.
	Okay, so maybe it was nice to have somebody else in the family with a dark
side.
				* * *
	The first thing Becka noticed when she walked into the house was the smell.
Dirty bodies and garbage, cigarette smoke and spilt beer, the general punge
that always hung over a place were the lowlifes had spent any time. She had
smelled it often enough in this house, usually after one of Ralph's drug
parties, but she'd never experienced it at this level! Damn, the stink was
so thick you could practically see it.
	Garbage and debris littered the back hallway, wrappers from fast food
places the most prominent of it. Becka glanced in her old room when they
passed by, saw the wreckage that had once been her whole life, and hastily
looked away. She stepped over an old pizza box as she continued on, wishing
she could bypass all the memories just as easily.
	When they entered the living room of the little house, it looked like the
mess in her room had grown up and taken residence out here. There wasn't a
single piece of unbroken furniture left, and the only spot on the floor not
covered in trash and debris was a hastily cleared area against the back
wall, where five battered figures huddled on the floor. Standing guard over
them were three strangers, three big strangers, who wore the work shirts and
denim of construction workers. From the way that they scowled at the huddled
group before them, it was obvious that they were willing to do a little
deconstruction, too.
	"Hey, Uncle Miguel. Where's Dad and the boys?" Gia asked, addressing the
largest man standing. Before the big man could answer Becka saw her father
first, coming out of Ralph's bedroom and talking on a cell phone. Even as he
looked up and smiled at her, she scanned his face anxiously, looking for
signs of injury. But other than a cut on his left ear her father appeared to
be unhurt, although she did see some other nasty scrapes. She didn't worry
about those, though. They were on his knuckles.
	"Your Dad's right here and the boys are out front, making sure none of
these rats is hiding in the garage. And I take it this pretty young thing
must be your new sister, Becka. How you doing, Honey, I'm your Uncle Mike."
	The friendly voice that addressed her was deep and rumbling, and perfectly
matched the man it was coming out of. He was huge, at least six foot six,
and built like an industrial sized refrigerator. But he had a twinkle in his
eye that matched her Dad's, and when he held out a hand big enough to juice
a coconut she unhesitatingly let him take hers. She felt calluses as thick
as a boot sole as they shook.
	"I never would have believed it," she said, looking up at her Uncle. She
had to lean back to do it.
	"Believed what?"
	"That Dad was the runt of the litter."
	Miguel Cameron roared with laughter, as he dropped Becka's hand and
enfolded her in a warm embrace. Becka was grinning as she hugged him back,
feeling herself once again being accepted wholeheartedly by the Cameron
family.
	Uncle Mike finally let her go, but he kept one arm around her shoulder as
he turned to face his sibling.
	"Hey Phil! You hear what your new kid just said? She called you the runt of
the litter!"
	"Godzilla would be a runt standing next to you, you big ape," he replied
casually, as he folded the phone and put it away in his pocket. He smiled at
his daughters briefly, and then nodded to his son, who still had a crushing
grip on his prisoner's arm. "That the guy who hurt Becka?" he asked, his
voice going harder. When Bobby said yes, Phil jerked a thumb at the huddled
group, and soon their number had increased by one. Pintauro seemed immensely
relieved to be there.
	"That blonde guy with the earring, your Dad says he's the other one we're
looking for."
	Mike gestured to one of the battered men on the ground, who sat there
eyeing them warily. Becka nodded when she recognized him.
	"Yeah, that's him. Clapper Gustav. I don't know these other guys, I never
saw them before."

Gustav, the object of everyone's attention, was now glaring malevolently
back at Becka. He had obviously decided that the blonde girl was the author
of all his problems, or maybe just the safest one to vent his anger on. He
cursed her now, hissing out the words through clenched teeth.
	"You fuckin' little whore, what did you tell them? You're in it now, bitch.
When Ralphie gets out he's gonna cut out your—AKKK!"
	"You stupid fuck, shut the hell up! You want to get us killed?!"
	The interruption had come from a completely unexpected source. Mikey
Pintauro had launched himself across the floor and punched Gustav viciously
in the face. Clapper lay on his back, stunned, while Pintauro darted fearful
glances up at Becka. Phil threw a questioning look at his daughter, but all
he got back was another one of studied innocence. He shrugged, then patted
the pocket with the cell phone in it.
	"I just finished talking to Danny Caruso. He was pretty pissed that we did
this behind his back, but screw him. We just did a citizen's arrest on a
bunch of trespassers. He's sending some cops down to pick up these two."
	"Good," said Mike. "Saves us the trip. But what about these other losers?"
	Phil shrugged. "If they never laid a hand on my daughter, then I've got no
beef with them. Becka?"
	"No, Dad. I never saw them before now. I already told Uncle Mike that."
	Phil nodded, and then turned towards the group of prisoners. His voice
snapped like a breaking bone when he addressed them.
	"Alright you dirtbags, listen up! This house belongs to that woman over
there, Rebecca Jackson. And she says—"
	"Cameron."
	Phil stopped, surprised by the interruption from Becka.
	"Rebecca. Jackson. Cameron," she said now, carefully enunciating each word.
She said her new name for the first time with pride, and Phil felt that same
pride when he heard it. For a long moment he shared a grin with his
daughter, then turned back to the business at hand.
	"Rebecca Jackson Cameron. She didn't invite you punks here, so you're
trespassing. And the only reason we don't turn you over to the cops is
because we got better things to do today. But if I ever see any of you
losers around here again, I will take you apart like a cheap watch. Now get
outta here!"

	As Becka watched the last of the squatters scramble out the front door,
escorted by her father and her uncle, she felt a familiar hand slip into
hers. She looked to her left and met a pair of sparkling brown eyes and an
impish smile. Gia squeezed her hand and said, `It's got a nice ring to it."
	"Yeah, it does," Becka answered, suddenly feeling very light. Not as if a
weight had been lifted off of her, more like she had just dropped some
excess baggage.
	Gia gave her hand one final squeeze, then said "C'mon, I want you to meet
the twins."
	Gia introduced her to Mike's two sons, Hector and Tomas. They were typical
Cameron men, tall and handsome, although neither of them would ever reach
the dimensions of their father. They were also identical, and except for the
color or their shirts Becka found it impossible to tell them apart.
	But after the introduction Becka did find one difference between the two
brothers, and it cast a pall over the whole meeting. While Hector was open
and cheerful and seemed happy as a puppy to meet her, Tomas was just the
opposite, cold and distant. He was polite, and his manners were impeccable,
but the lack of warmth was obvious. She recognized that reaction, and knew
that her new `cousin' was barely tolerating her.
	Inside Becka let herself sigh, feeling a poignant sadness, but not totally
surprised. After all, it was kind of a lot to expect to meet this many
people, and not find a single homophobe in the bunch.
	Gia must have sensed the same tension from her cousin, because after an
awkward few minutes they left the twins to guard the two prisoners and went
looking for their Dad. They found Phil and their Uncle Mike outside on the
front lawn, peering under the porch with a flashlight. The first thought the
girls had was that the two men were looking for more escaped trespassers,
but that was quickly dispelled when they got close enough to hear the
conversation. They were talking about the foundation!

"It'll need a proper inspection for termites and dry rot, but so far bro, it
looks good. They really built to last in those days. There's a little water
damage over by the kitchen, but I think it's minimal. Replacing some floor
boards and that one joist should do it."
	"You're the expert, Mike. Speaking of the kitchen, what about that puke
green linoleum? Replace it all with tile?"
	Mike crawled out from under the house and stood up, dusting off his hands.
	"Damned straight. Tile in the bathrooms and the laundry room, too. Add
another five to seven thousand dollars onto the value, for less than a grand
in materials. Replace those worn out fixtures while we're at it, too."
	"Hey, Dad! What're you two doing down there?" Becka called. Phil looked up,
saw his daughters leaning on the porch railing, and gave them a grin.
	"Just checking out your house, Hon. If you want to sell this place, we're
gonna need to do some serious repair work if we expect to get top dollar."
	Becka grimaced. "Don't bother, Dad. I don't care what it sells for, I just
want to get rid of it. Even with all you guys here, this place still creeps
me out."
	But Phil was adamant. He wasn't going to let his newest throw away her only
heritage from her first parents, even if it did `creep her out'. He started
to shake his head, but his brother beat him to it.
	"What, are you crazy? You try selling this house as is, you'll be lucky if
you get $95 thousand. But with a little sweat and about five or ten grand in
materials, we can get you another 60 to 70 thou for it. Damn, girl, you
better think hard before you throw away that kind of loot."
	Becka looked stunned, her mouth open and her gone eyes all big and round.
"Is that how much houses cost?" she asked.
	Mike roared out his big man's laugh, delighted. Phil thought it was funny
too, but he managed to answer Becka's question without any more than a
chuckle.
	"Yeah, that's how much houses cost. And that's why they have thirty year
mortgages. Someday when you feel like having a heart attack, I'll show you
the paperwork on our place."
	Becka was still looking a little bemused when she and Gia climbed off the
porch and joined them. Mike suggested that they check out the garage next,
and Becka led the others around the to the side where the detached building
was. But when they came around the corner, the sight there made Phil scowl.
	"HEY!" he barked, loud enough to make the girls jump. "Just where the hell
have you two been?"
	George and Johnny, who had been squatting over a large object in the
driveway right in front of the garage, jumped to their feet with identical
expressions of guilt. Both young men had their sleeves rolled up and grease
all over their hands, and George was gripping a wrench, which he was self
consciously trying to hide behind his back. The way they shifted from foot
to foot and tried not to look him in the eye, reminded Phil of the time they
were kids and he had caught them with a six pack of shoplifted beer. And
from the way they were squirming beneath his glare, there was a good chance
they were remembering that day, too.
	Good!
	"So you wanna tell me what the hell you've been doing while your cousins
have been inside, guarding the two lowlifes that molested your sister? Doing
what should by right s have been your job? Well?"
	Both of his sons looked shamefaced at the rebuke, and George started to rub
the back of his neck, almost hitting himself in the head with the forgotten
wrench. He hastily shoved the tool into his back pocket and tried to answer
the question.
	"Sorry, Dad. We weren't goofing off, honest. Johnny and I came out here to
look for stragglers just like you said, but we didn't find any. And then
this thing in the garage, well, it kind of distracted us."
	" `Distracted you', huh? Oh, this better be good."
	"Yeah, well. See, we checked out the garage and saw there was no one in
here. So we were about to leave, but then we saw this dirty old tarp, and it
looked like it was covering a motorcycle, you know?"
	"Yeah," added Johnny, his voice beginning to rise in excitement. "We were
curious, we just wanted to take a look. But Dad... it's an Indian!"
	"Yeah, a 1953 Blackhawk Chief, and it's in great condition. I mean, it's
filthy, it looks like somebody bought it at a junk yard and just hauled it
here. And there's dirt and cobwebs all over it, and the tires are flat,
looks like the rubber just rotted."
	"Right, and the front fork's bent, and the seat's all torn to hell. But the
serial numbers on the frame and the motor match, and it looks like all
original equipment on it. Shoot, Dad, we could probably have her completely
restored in two months!"
	"Restored? Are you two out of your minds?!" Phil snapped, suddenly
reminding his sons that they were still in trouble. "That bike belongs to
Danning, you pinheads. Remember him, the guy we just put in jail? So what
are you going to do, see him on visitors' day, ask him if he'd like to sell
you the damned thing? Jesus, I don't believe you guys. Fiddle farting around
with a beat up old bike when you're supposed to be hunting dangerous
scumbags. Un-freaking-believable."
	"Sorry, Dad," they both muttered, hanging their heads. Phil snorted in
disgust.
	Mike, meanwhile, had wondered over to the motorcycle in question, and was
now squatting down beside it. He seemed totally unconcerned by his brother's
tirade, and if anything was amused. He spoke now, after taking a cursory
inspection of the vehicle.
	"You know, I'm not the expert you are, Phil, but I agree with the boys.
This sure was one sharp looking bike when it was new."
	Phil gave his sons one last parental look, and then moved over to stand
beside his brother. He looked down at the partially disassembled motorcycle,
and grunted in agreement.
	"You're right, you're not an expert. Sharp doesn't begin to describe these
old Indians. I always thought they beat the hell out of the Harley's back
then. And the '53s were the last models they ever built. Hmmm... matching
serials, you say?"

	Within minutes the four Cameron men were huddled over and dissecting the
old road machine, totally oblivious when the two girls made their exit.
Becka was shaking her head in wonder.
	"Are they always like that?"
	Gia grinned. "Ohhh, yeah. They'll be hovering over that thing like buzzards
on roadkill for hours. It's an X chromosome thing, so you better get used to
it."
	Becka's reply was lost, though, by the sound of a car pulling into the
driveway. The two girls looked up, to see the arrival of Detective Caruso
and a squad car. The cops had finally arrived.
				* * *
	Between Uncle Mike and the twins, they had two pickup trucks available at
the house, so it was decided to take advantage of the situation. The rest of
the day was spent emptying the bungalow out completely, from top to bottom.
First every stick of broken and unbroken furniture was taken to the trucks
and hauled off to the local dump. Then everything else was shoved into black
plastic garbage bags, to be taken away to the same fate. Even the items in
Becka's room were bagged, as the blonde girl announced that there wasn't a
damned thing in there that she wouldn't gladly see burned. It had seemed
like such a huge job, but between the eight of them it was over and done
with in just a few hours.
And all the time it was torture for Becka.

Memories seemed to stir like a flock of gnats, so thick that she felt as if
she were choking. Everything she touched seemed to raise another one, to
dive and to sting and then dart away maddeningly, only to come back again
from a different direction. Tension knotted her belly the same way it always
had, once again causing the ache that she used to live with every day in
this house. Loud noises kept making her flinch, until she thought she would
leap out of her own skin.
	She tried not to let it show. She hid it well, putting on a brave front,
doing her share of the work, even laughing at the dumb jokes that her
brothers kept making. But finally she just couldn't take it anymore, and as
the last pile of plastic bagged trash was being loaded into the pickups, she
quietly slipped out the back door.  She heaved a sigh of relief as her feet
took her across the lawn and back to the little copse of trees, the only
place here where she truly felt safe.

	Gia had known all the time what Becka had been going through, partly
through that strange connection they both shared, but also just because she
knew her so well. She had seen the muscles bunched around her lover's
shoulders, and heard the brittleness in her voice. She knew the other girl
was on edge whenever she stepped inside the house, yet she also knew that
Becka was trying to prove something, if only to herself. So Gia had followed
her all day with her eyes, but out of respect had kept quiet, and let
herself be satisfied with just staying as near as she could.
	She saw it when Becka finally slipped away and gave her ten minutes, until
their Dad started looking around and wondering where his other daughter had
gone. Gia had a few low voiced words with him and explained the problem,
which caused him to raise his eyebrows in sudden comprehension. He squeezed
her shoulder gently just before she left to go find her other half.

Gia had found her sitting with her back against an old oak, facing away from
the house, slowly shredding a leaf with her fingernails. She didn't even
bother to look up when the younger girl sat down next to her, but leaned
back farther so that their shoulders brushed. She had known her lover was
coming, sensed it even before Gia had walked out the back door. Their
connection had become so much a part of them that neither girl bothered to
question it anymore.
	Still concentrating on the plant she was dismantling, she said, "Was Dad
getting worried about me?"
	"Naaw. You haven't been gone that long. Besides, I told him what was
happening with you, and he understood."
	Becka snorted ruefully. "What, you told him why his newest kid was freaking
out over an empty house? Did you tell him I'm afraid of open spaces?"
	"No, I reminded him how you once called that place a box full of bad
memories. Then I pointed out that you had been locked inside that box all
day. I told you, he understood."
	Becka was silent for awhile, her eyes going unfocused as they stared at
things best held at a distance. She felt a warm, soft hand touch her on the
arm, stroke her hair, then heard Gia say gently, "Too many ghosts?"
	"Yeah," she muttered, then shook herself. "Yeah, way too many ghosts. But
also... Gia, I don't know what to feel. I saw the cops take away Mojo and
Ponyboy yesterday, and today I saw them take away Mikey and Clapper. And
tomorrow they're gonna arrest the Gallego brothers, too. That's everybody
who ever laid a hand on me, locked up for the rest of their lives. You'd
think I'd be, you know, all happy and jumping around and stuff. But all I
feel inside is kind of, empty, I guess. And kind of queasy, too."
	Gia nodded. "I know. Like somebody scooped out all the bad stuff inside of
you, and now it's all hollow, except for maybe a bad taste around the edges.
Right?"
	Becka smiled, a small thing that failed to show her teeth. "Quit that," she
murmur.
	Gia raised an eyebrow, asked innocently, "Quit what?"
	"You know what I'm talking about. Quit acting like you can crawl inside my
head and tell what I'm thinking."
	"Oh, like you don't do it to me? Face it, little girl, we are inside each
other's heads. Like an old married couple. And we probably always will be,
too. Is that so bad?"
	Becka smiled, for real this time, and reached for the other girl's hand.
They twined their fingers and leaned a bit closer, just enjoying the moment.
After awhile, Gia broke the silence.
	"You remember me telling you about our Aunt Jesseniah?"
	Becka frowned, trying to. "You mean your Mom's sister, the one who owns a
beauty shop?"
	" `Styling Salon'. Don't let her hear you call it a beauty shop, she'll get
all huffy. But yeah, that's the one I'm talking about.
	"Anyway, once when I was little I was over at her house playing with my
cousin Elvia. We ended up in the kitchen where Aunt Jess kept this pet
canary, in a cage on the counter. We knew that we weren't supposed to touch
it, but hey, we were only eight years old. I was feeling pretty bad for the
bird, too, I didn't think it should be locked up in a cage anyway. Besides,
I really wanted to see it fly, you know? So I opened the door and tried to
let it out.
	"Well, it didn't want to come. So I reached inside and tried to, you know,
shoo it towards the door or something. It took a long time, but I finally
got it to jump out of it's cage. I expected it to fly all over the room but
it didn't, it just sat down on the counter and froze. It wasn't moving or
looking around the way it did in the cage, it was just sort of hunched up,
like it was terrified. We finally got worried enough that we went and got
Aunt Jess, and she picked the bird up and put him back inside. And in a
couple of hours he was okay, hopping around and singing and doing all these
birdy little things just like he always had.
	"Becka, that canary had been brought up his whole life inside a cage, just
like you. And when he was finally let out his whole world changed, and he
just didn't know what to do anymore. I think you're feeling the same thing,
you're finally out of your cage, but you don't know what that means yet.
Just give yourself some time, you'll figure it out."
	Becka was silent, thinking about what Gia had just told her. The canary
thing was a pretty dumb story, but she had to admit it did feel right. And
it also made her feel better. She decided that she'd do what Gia suggested,
just take her time and get used to being free.
	"Okay, I get your point. And thanks. By the way, whatever happened to that
canary?"
	Gia shrugged. "It's buried in Aunt Jess' back yard, along with about half a
dozen others. Aunt Jess never was very good with pets."
	Becka broke up in laughter, then reached over and pulled the grinning girl
into her arms. They kissed for a long time, and it felt really, really good
to be out of that cage.

Eventually they separated, and climbed to their feet. They were turning
around, heading back towards the house and their waiting family, when Gia
suddenly thought of something and stopped.
	"Oh, hey, I forgot to show you this! I found this when we moved the couch.
Here." Gia reached into her shirt pocket, and pulled forth a shiny length of
silver. Becka saw it and gasped.
	"Gia, that's your Mom's bracelet! Oh my God, I can't believe you found it!
Is it alright?"
	"No, it's broken, but Dad says it can be fixed pretty easily. I found all
the charms, too, except for the Jack `o Lantern."
	"The pumpkin? Oh, no, that was the charm that meant you, wasn't it? Gia,
I'm so sorry."
	"Well don't be. That charm didn't represent me, it represented my birthday,
remember? I'd much rather have lost it than any of the others. But hey,
that's not all I found. Here, this is for you."
	Gia was grinning as she reached into her pocket again and brought out a
shiny object, which she held out in the palm of her hand. It was small and
square, about the dimensions of a Chiclet, and covered in gold. On one side
the word `Love' had been carved out, to show the white enamel underneath.
	It was Ralph Danning's tooth.
	Becka could only stare, looking at the symbol of her worst nightmare,
resting in the small brown palm of her lover's hand. Tentatively she reached
out, poking at it, and finally picking it up between the tips of two
fingers. She held it for a long time, and then slowly her mouth split open
in the widest grin she had ever had. She spun around and threw the last
piece of Ralph as hard as she could into the woods, laughing as she did so,
knowing she was throwing away a lot more than just an ugly bit of jewelry.
	She took Gia's hand and said, "Let's go home," s they walked away from the
past forever.


			EPILOGUE

	The arraignment for Ralph Danning and his crew went off exactly as
expected. They were all charged with sexual assault and abuse of a minor,
and held over for trial without bail. Additionally, Mojo and Ponyboy were
charged with kidnapping, and conspiracy to commit murder. The sound of the
judge's gavel was still echoing when their attorney approached the D.A. with
an offer to have his clients testify against Ralph as the instigator of the
plot.
	Also as expected, the Gallego brothers were charged but were granted bail.
The case against them was much weaker than that against the others. They
left the courtroom surrounded by their lawyers and sporting smug looks, only
to be confronted by LAPD Detective Caruso and DEA Agents Dobbs and
MacGregor, and two very large police officers with handcuffs. The Gallegos
were no longer smiling.
	The next arraignment was held a few days later, and those results were also
just as expected. The evidence against Peter and Benjamin Gallego was now
overwhelming, and since they were residents of another state and therefore a
flight risk, they were ordered held without bail. In public the attorneys
vehemently declared their client's innocence and their confidence that they
would be vindicated, but in private it was a different tale. Everyone knew
that it was highly unlikely that any of the defendants would ever see
sunlight again, except what was filtered through a set of iron bars.

The trial became a local media sensation, but by law the press had to keep
Becka and Gia's names out of it because of their age. But Sammie Waters had
no such compunction, and eagerly wrote the whole story up in the school
newspaper. The faculty insisted that she edit out the more lurid details,
but those were eagerly filled in by Justine and Kelly, who lived up to their
reputations as the top rumor mongers of Roosevelt High.
	The results of this media blitz was that Becka and Gia found themselves in
the unlikely roll of local heroes. The public response was immediate. There
popularity soared, and Becka's past history as a bully was completely
forgotten, she was now the local girl who had made good. They were invited
to countless parties by people they didn't know, and were asked to join the
local chapter of the Gay and Lesbian Student Alliance, a group neither of
them had ever even heard of before. They were also told repeatedly that they
were roll models.
	It was a little like being hit with a steamroller. Becka was sure that if
Gia hadn't been there to anchor her, she would have totally freaked and run
screaming down the halls.
	Not that the response was all positive. Their were many people, both
amongst the students and the faculty, who resented such an openly gay couple
in their school. Their were some incidents, but most of the detractors were
smart enough not to buck popular opinion and kept their thoughts to
themselves.
	Gary Harper did not. A week after the story broke he ditched his third
period class and used the opportunity to spray paint the word `DYKE' on
Gia's locker. Unfortunately for him Jeff Saxon, Sammie's boyfriend, was late
for class and saw him do it. During lunch he and two of his friends from the
wrestling team caught Harper and dragged him into the boy's restroom,
stripped him naked, and threw his clothes out into the hall. They then spray
painted the word `DICK' across his body, and Jeff told him that Gia's locker
had better be clean by the end of the day or he would hunt Harper down and
apply the second coat.

Halloween came around, and with it Gia's birthday. The Cameron family
typically decided to use the occasion to celebrate their newest member, and
threw a massive party. It was fortunate that their house was so big, because
at one time their were over fifty people within it's walls.
	Jessie Evans and Margie Dowd were there, as Bobby and Phil's official
dates, and were introduced to the rather extended Cameron clan. Sammie and
Jeff were there too, as were Justine and Becky, although the last two had
come stag. They didn't seem to mind though, as they both became instantly
enraptured by Johnny Cameron and his guitar. They ended up spending the rest
of the night following him around like two little puppies, much to his
embarrassment and the amusement of his sisters.

After the party had broken up, Phil and his kids held their own little
private get together, and presented Gia with her gifts. There was the usual
round of clothing and jewelry, followed by a surprise from her brothers.
Johnny, Bobby and George had pooled their money and bought the girls a new
bed, a bigger one meant for two people. The gesture was so unexpected, and
such a show of support for her and Becka's relationship, that Gia burst into
tears. She gave each of her brothers a kiss and a fierce hug, which almost
brought everyone else to tears, too.
	Of course, the boys had to make a big deal about the fact that it was a
`queen sized bed'. The jokes and innuendos flew briskly for almost ten
minutes before their sisters rallied and started conversing graphically on
how they intended to break the bed in. The enemy soon surrendered the field,
and beat a hasty retreat.
	There were more surprises in store, and they were all provided by Becka.
She gave her first present to Gia, a small sized jewelry box. The younger
girl opened it up and gasped. Inside was a silver charm for her bracelet, in
the shape of a tiny military medal.
	"That's to replace the pumpkin you lost, only this one really represents
you. It represents who you are to me. I once told you that you were my hero,
and I meant it. You saved my life, Gia. And I will always love you for it."
	Gia suddenly couldn't speak past the swelling in her throat, so she mouthed
the words `thank you' and spoke volumes with her eyes. Becka felt herself
blush at what those eyes were promising, and then hurried back to what else
she had planned on saying.
	"I know that Gia's the only one who's supposed to get presents today, but
I'm going to change the tradition a little. I have something to give to the
rest of you and, well, I just didn't want to wait until Christmas, okay?
	"George, Bobby, Johnny, you guys are my brothers now. You love me like you
do Gia, even though you've only known me for a couple of months. And that's
so special to me that I can't even put it into words. You've given me so
much, that I wanted to give you something that you'll love, too.
	"This is the pink slip to that bike you found over at the bungalow, the one
you couldn't keep your hands off of. It turns out that it belonged to my
first Dad, Hugh Jackson. He bought it the year before he died from a junk
yard in Kansas. I think he must've seen it while he was driving his truck
across country, and he wanted to rebuild it like you do. So I want you guys
to have it, because he loved it, and I know that you'll love it too."
	There was a stunned silence, followed immediately by a lot of yelling, and
even more hugging and thanks. The boys were so excited that they wanted to
go over to the bungalow and pick the bike up that very minute, but a stern
look from their father soon brought them back to earth. Still, they sat
huddled together and quietly made grandiose plans for the coming
restoration.
	Eventually the excitement tapered off, and Becka got everyone's attention
again when she brought another envelope to her father. Phil took it solemnly
and waited for Becka to sit down before he opened it up, and then a puzzled
look came over his face.
	"Honey... this is the deed to the bungalow, isn't it? The house that your
parents left you. Why are you giving this to me?"
	"Because I want you to sell it. I want you to sell it, and use the money to
help pay off the mortgage to this place."
	Phil looked at his daughter, stunned. He gaped like a fish, unable to find
the words to reply to this incredible gesture.
	"What... Becka, you can't mean this! This isn't just a house, it's your
heritage, it belonged to your parents. If you want to sell it, fine, I
understand why. But you were going to use the money to go to art school,
remember? Baby, that was your dream!"
	But Becka was shaking her head, adamantly. "Dad, I don't need to sell this
house to go to art school. I have plenty of money for that already. You
heard what Mr. Hudson said."
	Phil nodded, remembering. Their lawyer had called with the news less than a
week ago. The feds had been as good as their word, and had agreed not to try
and seize any of the property that had been listed in Becka's name. They had
released all claim they had to them, and neither the Gallego's or any of
Ralph's crew was likely to contest her ownership, when doing so would mean
admitting that they had broken Federal and state laws when they bought the
properties. When Becka turned eighteen in the summer she would take full
possession of the land and buildings, and be able to dispose of them as she
saw fit. Benny Hudson's best estimate was that they would sell for just over
2.4 million dollars.
	And that could buy a hell of a lot of art lessons.
	Phil sighed. "Okay, I'll admit you don't need the money. But why sell this
place and then turn around and put it towards our mortgage? I don't get it."
	"Because everybody in this family but me has put so much into this place
already. Gia told me all about it, about the blue prints, and the weekends
clearing the land. And about how you all pitched in last summer and helped
with the construction. Gia says you're all `invested' in this place, and
that's the real reason it's you're home. Well, I want to invest in it, too.
	"I don't know what my parents had to do to buy their house, but I bet they
must have worked really hard for it. I bet it was their very first home
together, and they must've loved it. But I can't keep it, it's still got too
many bad memories, so I have to sell it. And I can't think of anything
better to do with the money than to invest it in my own home. I think they
would have wanted that, too."
	Phil stared at her for a long time, but in the end he just nodded, and
accepted the inevitable. It made sense, he realized, if you looked at it
from Becka's point of view. He still felt uncomfortable taking the money,
but if this was what his daughter wanted, what she needed, than that's what
he would do.

	Later that night in their room the girls were lying on their new bed,
holding each other, just letting the emotions of the day sink in. Becka
leaned over and gave her lover a long, slow kiss, a tender one meant to
express love rather than passion. When they finally broke apart, she looked
Gia in the eyes and whispered, "Happy Birthday."
	Gia smiled. "It was. But you kind of stole the show at the end there,
didn't you?"
	Becka grinned. "Yeah, well, I was just getting tired of giving everybody my
sketches. I wanted to do something special. And it felt good when I did it,
too. It felt right."
	"That's because it was right. I am so proud of you, little girl. In fact, I
bought you a present, too."
	Becka's grin got even wider. "Oh, yeah? What is it?"
	Gia smiled mischievously, the rolled over and slipped from the bed. She
walked over to the dresser and opened a drawer, and then closed it again.
When she came back to the bed she was holding a small box wrapped with a
bow. She knelt down next to Becka and handed it to the older girl.
	"Great minds do think alike," she said, smiling. "My bracelet represents
our family, all the people who I love who are closest to me. I figured it
wouldn't be complete unless you were on it, too. This is who you are to me."
	Becka swallowed, and then held her breath as she untied the bow and opened
the box. Inside she found another silver charm, exquisitely made, and
majestic. It was the head of a lion, it's teeth bared, mouth opened in a
silent roar.
	Becka smiled wryly, feeling a sadness. So this was how Gia still saw her
after all.
	"Yeah, you're right. It is me. `Becka the Beast'. I get it."
	But Gia was shaking her head. She reached out and lay her hand on the other
girl's arm and squeezed firmly.
	"No, little girl, you don't get it. The lion stands for courage, for
bravery. You fought for me. You stood up to your worst nightmares to save
me. You are the most courageous person I have ever known.
	"And that's who you are to me. You're my Becka the Brave. And I will love
you and cherish you forever."
	Tears were running freely down her cheeks by now, but Gia took her in her
arms and kissed them away. That night promises were made, and hearts joined,
and a lifetime with a future started on.
	And the bed broke in just fine.

				end