Title: Revenge Is Complicated
Rating: M for language.
Summary: Sequel to 'The Other Apprentice.' Seven years later, Tegan Callahan is back with for her boyfriend. However, she'll have some unexpected help with her. Unfortunately, someone is plotting against her. Why can't these things ever be simple?
Disclaimer: I do not own Sorcerer's Apprentice, Disney, or anything remotely associated with it. I claim ownership of only my OC's, which I love. Don't steal. The government doesn't like competition. XD
A/N: This is my attempted sequel to 'The Other Apprentice.' DO NOT READ THIS WITHOUT READING IT FIRST, OR NOTHING WILL MAKE THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF SENSE! Also, for those who wonder, the names are pronounced 'TEE-gan' and 'EE-vee.'
Tegan liked Spain.
The language was easy and the people were nice, and it was easy to get by in her situation. She took a deep drag on her cigarette and looked out over the city of Barcelona, the tower-studded skyline ablaze with fiery clouds as the sun set. A light breeze blew a few loose strands of hair into her face, but she didn't bother to brush them aside. She exhaled, the smoke wafting away and to the left.
She'd only come to this place about three years ago. Before then, she'd just been drifting from one place to another, never staying too long for fear of being recognized. She didn't really have to worry about that, though.
She'd changed in the past seven years. Now twenty-six years old, she'd outgrown her angry scarlet hair and had simply let the dye wash out and fade away. She stood out less with her natural copper hair, but still made a striking first impression. The tattoos were still there, and she'd even added some new ones. She still retained her pension for sleeveless shirts and dresses, making her quite the head-turned as she walked down the crowded streets. She had toned down the make-up considerably, opting for light mascara and chap-stick in favor of raccoon eyes and black lipstick. She didn't look anything like the missing persons add pictures of herself she still occasionally saw on signs over drinking fountains. She sometimes drew moustaches on them.
She stamped out her cigarette on the balcony railing and folded her long legs back over the edge from where they'd been dangling, sighing slightly. It had been a very long day for her. A long week, in fact. She turned and headed back inside.
She glanced over at the back of the couch, the top of a head just visible over it. The TV was blaring, but she didn't mind. It was tuned to Discovery Channel.
"What do you want for dinner, Evie?" she asked in the general direction of the sofa. She was responded to with a grunt and the volume being turned up. Tegan smirked. Chef Boyardee it was.
A lot had happened in the seven years since she'd fled Washington. She'd gained weight, for one thing, as well as muscle. She was still lean, just rounder around the edges and could deliver a punch with enough force behind it to drop a 200 pound man to the ground. She knew, because she'd done it twice. She'd grown her hair out, too, letting it dangle to her middle back when down. It was loosely braided now, and hung limply between her shoulder blades. It suited her features better than the choppy, blood-red mop she'd had before, and showed off her eyes.
And then there was Evie.
Evelyn Penelope Callahan was born in India on June 17th in the middle of a thunderstorm that shook the very foundations of the small hospital she entered the world into. Her first breath had been expelled into a gut-wrenching cry of life, and didn't stop until she was placed into her mother's waiting, albeit shaking arms. The two had stared at each other for the longest moment imaginable, and then Evie had yawned widely, curled up, and fallen asleep.
Tegan smiled fondly, remembering the memory, and glanced back over at the back of the couch.
"We're having ravioli again, Eve. It'll be ready in about 10 minutes. Say goodbye to the spider monkeys and go get washed up."
There was a disappointed groan, but the TV was switched off and the little girl hopped off the couch and walked around it, lstaring at her mother with a look of indignation.
"They weren't spider monkeys," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "They were sugar gliders and they are adorable and I want one."
Tegan laughed and stirred the ravioli.
"I'll look into it, babe. Go wash your hands and maybe we can talk about it over dinner."
"Yeah, right," Evie said, slouching off towards the bathroom. Tegan smirked and made a mental note to monitor the TV guide for any shows about cute and/or fluffy exotic animals. After the disastrous rabbit affair, there was no way she was getting another pet. She'd had enough trouble with a goldfish.
She stopped stirring and bit her lip, memories flooding her mind of her shabby little apartment in Parkland. She wondered what became of Frodo the goldfish, along with the rest of her possessions. When she'd left that night she'd only taken the bare essentials and left everything else behind. She hoped against hope that Chris had gotten there first and saw the stuff put to good use. She had fond memories of that place…
She snapped back to reality, not willing to go down that side-street on Memory Lane just then. It still hurt too much.
She cursed aloud and began stirring again. The ravioli had stuck a little, but nothing too serious that they couldn't be eaten.
"You owe me a nickel," Evie said, coming up from behind her to sit at the counter. "You swore," she said in response to her mother's quizzical expression. Understanding flitted through Tegan's grey eyes. She fished through her pockets for a coin.
"Sorry, babe, I'm all out. I'll pay you back later, though. Did you wash your hands?"
"What do you think I was doing back there for three minutes?" Evie snarked, her dark brown eyes flashing with laughter. Tegan glared at her half-heartedly.
"With soap?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Evie made a face.
"If I didn't use soap, then it wouldn't be washing. Yes, I used soap, mother. Smell my hands."
Evie stuck her hands out, palms up for the sniff-test. Tegan shook her head, smiling despite herself.
"Nah, I believe you. What shall we have for dessert?"
"We haven't even had dinner yet! Gosh, aren't you supposed to be scolding me about these things?"
Tegan laughed, looking over at her sarcastic seven year old with a fond grin.
"Yeah, I suppose. Then again, we could be one of those families that never has dessert ever and just eats healthy food like spinach and broccoli and Brussels sprouts and-"
"Ewww! Alright, I vote for crème brûlée for dessert."
"What? Babe, that'll take hours to chill. It'll be bedtime before it's ready to eat."
"Not if you cook it with magic," Evie said, her eyes sparkling. Tegan let the spoon rest inside the pan and turned around, eyebrow raised and hands on her hips.
"Evelyn," she began, using the dreaded first name, "we've been over this. I don't use magic for stuff like cooking because it can get out of hand and cause disturbances, which normal people tend to notice. We have to be careful. No-"
"No shortcuts, yeah I know," the girl said, cutting her off and pouting slightly. "But what's the point of having magic if you're not going to use it?" she asked earnestly, searching her mother's young face. Tegan gave her a stern look over the top of her glasses.
"I don't have to explain my reasons to you, young lady. You'll find out in good time, but not a moment before then, understand? Now… How hungry are you are?"
"Medium hungry," Evie said, looking put out. Tegan felt a little bad for taking a harsh tone with her, but she was still too young to understand. She wasn't going to take away her childhood. Not just yet.
Tegan sighed slightly to herself and dished up a little more than half a plate of ravioli, sliding it across the counter to Evie. She scooped some up for herself and fished some forks out of the drawer, then walked around the counter and sat down. Mother and daughter ate in comfortable silence.
As Tegan lay in bed that night, she couldn't help thinking back on the past and how she had ended up in this situation.
The vow she'd made that night so many years ago still bound her to her quest, and she had a feeling it would keep her from aging if she didn't complete it in a timely manner.
When she'd run off that night, she'd had no idea she was pregnant. That changed everything. Her original plans were to lie low for a month or two, then sneak in under Balthazar's radar and steal the Grimhold back. She'd had to reconsider when Evelyn came along.
With a shock of orange hair and the darkest eyes the nurses had ever seen, Evie was the perfect mix of her mother and father. She inherited her mother's nose, hair, and slender bone structure, but she had her father's eyes, lips, and height. The girl was only seven and already the top of her head met Tegan's shoulders. Evie had shot up like beanpole and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Tegan had given up on buying her new clothes and now simply went to bargain shops or handed down her own things.
Tegan rolled over in the enormous king-sized bed and was disappointed, not for the first time, that she was the only one in it.
If it weren't for Evie, Horvath would probably be lying next to her. Or she would be lying in the ground, having died in her attempts to free him from that blasted doll. She balled her fists and curled her arms tightly around her pillow, hating Balthazar Blake and Veronica and the Prime Merlinian. She hated them from taking him from her, away from Evie, and for making her do it all by herself. It had been unimaginably difficult to raise a child on her own at the age of nineteen, on the run no less. If she hadn't had magic, she probably would have died long ago.
Lying in that hospital in India, cradling her baby daughter in her arms with tears pouring down her face, she promised herself that she would never expose this perfect little creature to anything magical or dangerous until she received a sign that the time was right. Evie was all she had, and she wasn't going to compromise her for the world.
Horvath would just have to wait a bit longer than expected.
Tegan bit her lip and blinked rapidly, wanting for the thousandth time for him to just open the door, walk over, wrap his arms around her and tell her that everything was going to be okay.
It would be a total bullshit lie, but it'd still be nice to hear him say it.
A memory of the week before flashed into Tegan's mind, of sitting with Evie on the couch and working on her book report. Evie was home schooled, of course, but that didn't stop Tegan from giving her 'homework'.
Evie had turned to her out of the blue, and asked why she didn't have a dad.
Tegan had been caught off guard. Evie had never said anything about fathers before, or ever shown any indication that she wanted one. She'd always been content with it just being her and Tegan, so Tegan was completely unprepared on the subject. She stuttered and spluttered and gave some story about her dad being away somewhere and unable to come home. She made it clear that he was alive, just not there. Evie asked if it had anything to do with magic. Tegan hesitated only a moment before saying yes. Evie had simply nodded in understanding and gone back to what she was writing. Tegan was in shock.
She knew she'd have to tell Evie soon. But telling her would doubtless mean she'd have to go and fulfill her quest. She wanted to, of course, but she didn't want to put Evie in any danger. She'd thought, more than once, of training Evie to fight and use her magic, but had talked herself out of it each time. But as time ticked on, Tegan knew that she'd have to learn sometime, and it would be easier at a young age. Just… not this young…
Tegan rolled over fitfully and clicked off the lamp, too tired and too stressed to think about this now. She'd deal with it in the morning, after she'd had breakfast and some coffee. And a cigarette. God, she needed a cigarette before she even started having this conversation with herself…
The song 'One Less Bell To Answer' was forcefully and unhelpfully shoved into her head. She sighed in frustration and buried her face in the pillow, yanking the blankets up over her head and drifting restlessly to sleep.