FicWad

A/N: M'kay. Hi guys. I've actually been a member of FicWad for a while now, I just haven't really gotten around to posting any stories or anything just yet. But I'm finally putting something up! Oh my God! This is just a collection of oneshots, but I suppose they have a bit of a plot line...but whatever. The songs are for the most part chosen randomly, as I just put my iPod on shuffle and use the first couple of songs that show up to create a story. That being said, realize that the meanings of the lyrics are the way I interpret them.

Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics to "Sweet Revenge".

Song Used: BarlowGirl's "Sweet Revenge".


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Beat of Their Own Drums
A collection of songfics by Tommi Girl


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One: Sweet Revenge
Puppet: Cormac O'Kane


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Did you see that I was hurt?
Did you know that you had left me crying there?
Now I'm holding all your words close 'till you feel this pain too,
But you live on so unaware...

“You've always been the soft one.”

I glared at him through vision blurred by boiling tears of frustration, my chest tight with the perplexing, unfortunately familiar blend of fury and hurt. I stood still and painfully rigid as if he had just slapped me across the face, knees bent slightly as I bristled and thought about springing toward him. My hands tightened and loosened spasmodically at my sides as I contemplated the pros and cons of using them to smash his face in.

Interestingly enough, I couldn't think of a single reason why I shouldn't.

So why the Hell didn't I?

Maybe it was because he was my twin; my brother; my kin; my blood...my best friend. I loved him.

Brothers were supposed to fight from time to time, weren't they? That's what siblings did, after all...

But he knew. He knew I was upset. He had to. When we were only half the size we were now we had discovered we shared intense emotions. Hatred, love, pain, joy...one of us could be sicker than a dog and the other, though seemingly healthy externally, felt just as bad internally. We usually ended up liking the same girl; disliking the same jackass; got ecstatic over similar things.

But we were different. Oh, so very different...

He was going to switch schools. He was going to move away. He was going to abandon me.

He didn't even pretend that he felt bad about it. He wanted to leave me behind. I was nothing but a simple-minded nuisance to him; too at home with where I was and what I was doing. He liked doing things the hard way, even if it meant cutting himself off from his brother.

“Where're you going?” I demanded, hating the way my voice quivered weakly after my steadily receding mirror image. I wasn't done with him...not yet.

I wasn't sure which hurt more; the fact that he didn't even acknowledge my question or the fact that he was still walking away.

He disappeared, his heavy footsteps slowly and deliberately ascending the stairs. I shivered, suddenly feeling very cold and alone. There was silence then, allowing a single thought to flash across my mind.

We'll see who's the real soft one soon, brother.

While I thought somehow this hate would heal me,
But this hate is never ending and it's only killing me,
Oh sweet revenge you've lied again,
I find I can't get free 'till I release this vengeance that I seek...

Hours went by; I cried for a long time. I couldn't put into words how deeply he had wounded me when he said he wanted to leave because I was starting to get on his nerves. He irritated me, too, but that didn't mean that I would just up and leave him on his own! We were 19 years old and had never been separated before; surely he could feel this powerful sense of betrayal, of abandonment...but he had shown no remorse for the massive, gaping wound he had so suddenly ripped in my chest.

Days passed; I cried in my sleep. He looked at me, but he never smiled or actually talked to me. He was intentionally ignoring me; making sure I knew that I was weak for depending on him. I couldn't let him know that I was still shedding tears over it, because I knew that by allowing myself to become that vulnerable would assure him that he had won; like waving a red flag in front of a bull or dangling a carrot in front of a horse's nose.

But I still felt belittled and unwanted. The hole he'd left in my heart didn't want to heal.

Two weeks came and went; I stopped crying. He kept ignoring me. He obviously didn't care what he was doing to me, and I felt my heart harden toward him. Since when had caring about your kin been considered a weakness? Why should I have been ashamed that I wanted him around? Well-contained rage replaced bitter anguish, and I found myself glaring at him with such contempt that I frightened even myself with my hatred.

Months crawled by; I stopped pretending that I cared. I fought and argued with him over everything; told him he was worthless; insisted his dreams were unattainable; shattered his hopes with a sarcastic remark and airy wave of my hand. Why not? He'd done the same to me.

Our mom could sense the tension between her sons, but didn't have the guts to ask what the matter was. He did as he threatened he would, leaving his home in New Jersey and moving to a little town in Colorado so he could finish his police academy work there. I closed my heart to him, just as he had done to me.

I didn't say goodbye before he left.

A whole year slipped through my fingers; I lost so much precious time. My brother and I didn't talk at all, and to my dismay the people I loved noted a turn for the worse in my behavior. I became reclusive, quick-tempered, defensive...everything Keefe had been before he left. I didn't even realize how horrible of a wrong turn I'd taken until it was almost too late.

The girl I loved almost left me.

Good God, I couldn't survive if I lost her on top of losing Keefe.

There had to be a way to make these feelings go away.

But what was it?

Forgive you, the only thing I want to live I'm ready to be free,
Maybe you've been wounded too,
Maybe all this is your self protection,
All the hurts you thought were hidden...

I needed to forgive him.

At first, the prospect of allowing him to get away with creating such a huge chasm in my very soul seemed so ridiculously stupid that I almost laughed at myself.

My brother would expect forgiveness, no matter how long it may take.

That was the problem with having someone who knew you inside out. They knew all your secrets, all your fantasies, all your wishes...all the things more precious to you than any material things could ever be. They knew exactly what made you tick, and when that information got into the wrong pair of hands...

I couldn't count the number of times that the war-mongering scorpion that was Keefe O'Kane had taken advantage of his knowledge and stung viciously at the softest, most vulnerable place in my heart.

And I couldn't count the number of times that I had accepted his abuse with quiet stoicism; how many times I'd graciously forgiven him.

I stood idly on a bridge in the dark, unsure of what I was doing there or why. I folded my arms and rested them on the railing, peering thoughtfully into the softly gurgling water below, and was suddenly struck with the remembrance that, had it not been for the numerous battle scars overlaying my face, I looked exactly like him.

A sudden memory from when we were small came flooding back to me before I could stop it.

“I wish we were still able to make people confuse us for one another,” a younger Cormac said with a sigh, staring unhappily at the bathroom mirror as if he could make the scars disappear, “remember when we used to do that to our 1st grade teacher?”

An equally young Keefe nodded slowly, putting down his toothbrush and gazing at his brother with reptilian dark eyes. “Yeah. Neither of us ever got in trouble because she was so afraid of accusing the wrong twin.”

Cormac looked away from the mirror and at his brother, blinking once and frowning lightly. “It just makes me sad that we don't look like twins anymore.”

Keefe smiled what was a startlingly grim smile considering his young age of eight years, putting an arm comfortingly about his brother's shoulders.

“We do. My marks are just on the inside, that's all.”

He felt just as left behind as I did, if not more. Our dad died when we were three, mom married some guy who ended up in jail, his friends never proved to be true, and he had never fallen in love...

Are the ones now hurting me,
So who will make this pattern end?
I find I can't get free 'till I release this vengeance that I seek,
Forgive you, the only thing I want to live I'm ready to...

Perhaps it was just the sheer memory itself and my characteristic nostalgia that made the stone my heart had cemented itself in shatter; maybe it was the recollection of just how seriously Keefe had said those heartbreaking words at such a young age. I'll never know.

But I do know that the realization hit me like a thunderbolt. So intense, so drastic of a revelation was it that I nearly staggered over backwards, knocked off balance by the utter force of it.

Not only did I need to forgive him, I wanted to.

Yes, he'd hurt me time and time again. He had dealt me spirit-crushing blows before with information I had trusted him never to use against me; taken my words and twisted their meaning into something that would never even enter my mind; let me down when I needed him the most.

But he was my twin. My brother. My kin. My blood.

He'd been there to wake me up before the nightmares I had about the day I got the scars became too scary. He'd been there to listen to me when I felt as if the world's goal was to make sure I never got a word in edgewise. He'd been there to teach my how to play my old guitar. He'd been the one who urged me into taking a chance with that one special girl who I was now getting ready to propose to.

He wasn't perfect. He was moody. He was conniving. He was obsessed with power.

But he had gifts, too. He was determined. He was clever. He was loyal.

He was human, just like I was. He had feelings; he was just afraid to show them because he'd been deeply hurt and didn't want it to happen again. He had hopes; he just never voiced them in fear of having them smashed by someone who could care less. He had secrets; he was just extra careful with them because the world had beaten most of the trust out of him.

He made mistakes, just like I did.

When we were kids we'd been inseparable. We had stuck together no matter what happened. He was so much more than just my brother.

He was my best friend.

Then, just as suddenly as the first wave of emotion had hit me, a wave of guilt crashed over my head and engulfed my mind.

How could I have been so foolish? Did I really think I would've been able to last the rest of my life like this? How could I have held onto this hatred...this thirst for revenge for so long?

Had I really not talked to him for an entire year?

Break these chains,
Won't see this through,
'Cause setting you free,
It means my freedom too...

I could fix this.

I could finally get rid of the wall of petty grievances and senseless vengeance I'd built around my heart and love again. I could help Keefe get rid of the one around his own so perhaps he could learn to trust humanity again. I could get my old self back and would never have to worry about her abandoning me because it didn't seem like I loved her anymore.

With a jolt I remembered I had a cell phone in my back pocket.

This circle of hurt could end right now.

Without wasting anymore precious seconds I brought my cell out into the open, my mind racing with what I was going to say to him when he picked up the phone.

My heart wrenched and my mind came to a screeching halt when it occurred to me that I may not have his number. Mom had given his new one to me, but that had been a long time ago. What if he'd gotten a new one?

But I pressed on. This was too important to let a little thing like that stop me. I opened my contacts list and with trembling, bumbling fingers found the one titled, 'Keefe O'Kane'. Praying it was the right one, I decisively pressed 'call' and brought the phone to my ear.

It rang for what seemed like an agonizing eternity, and for a moment I thought that perhaps he was asleep and wouldn't pick up.

Static. I hoped.

Then a familiar voice cut through. “Hello?”

Tears welled up and I almost dropped my phone into the swirling water below when I realized I hadn't heard his voice since that day he had left the house for the airport. That seemed so long ago...was I sure it had only been a year?

“K-Keefe?” I managed to stutter.

Silence. I thought he'd hung up on me, but he spoke again as if he couldn't believe who it was. “Mac?”

I couldn't help it; I cried. Salt trickled down my face and eroded away what was left of my stony heart.

“I'm sorry,” I choked out, unable to find any other words, “I love you and forgive you, brother.”

I find I can't get free 'till I release this vengeance that I seek,
Forgive you, the only thing I want to live I'm ready to be free.


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A/N: Yeah. There you have it! The first entry. I really like Cormac and Keefe. Keefe is sort of a male characterized version of myself, while Cormac is more of who I'd like to be (except, ya' know, minus the being a guy part). Keefe is really super introverted if you couldn't tell, and has the tendency to hurt the people who love him the most, much like I pick on my closest friends and even my family. Cormac, on the other hand, is just a big teddy bear; he's so sweet most of the time...I wish my boys lived next door. Life would be much more interesting.