Z8

Defenders of the Earth: This Is Their Story

By Marzena

Plot: Season 2, Episode 33

Chapter 8: The Prodigal Daughter

She got out of the cab and paid the driver after he'd unloaded her luggage. He glanced at her, clearly noticing her nervousness and discomfort.

"Shall I wait, Miss?" he politely asked.

She shook her head. Him waiting would give her the perfect opportunity to turn around and leave again, and that wasn't something she wanted to do. She needed to do something. She had a plan. She wouldn't give up now, and because she knew herself, she'd make sure that she didn't even have the opportunity to turn away.

"No, it's okay," she said, trying to sound confident. "I'll be fine."

"Visiting friends here?" he cabdriver asked, eying the tremendous mansion and apparently finding himself greatly impressed with what he saw.

"Family," she answered shortly, hoping he'd get that she wasn't interested in smalltalk.

He nodded again, looking back to the house once more and then finally getting back in his smelly cab.

"Must be some kind of family," he commented, and when she ignored that, he finally drove way, leaving her behind on the sidewalk, right next to her two suitcases and her backpack.

Yeah, some kind of family who didn't even know of her existence. At least she didn't think they did. Or rather, he did. As far as she knew, her mother had kept her a secret for quite some time. But her mother was dead now. Times had changed. And little Amy O'Connor was all grown up now. Or at least, 14 years old. That was old enough to make some decisions about her future.

Watching the cab driving away made her realize once more that she was totally on her own now. Well, not that that talkative cabdriver would have been much help anyway, but at least he'd provided the opportunity to turn back. Which I'm not going to. That's why I sent him away in the first place, she reminded herself.

If only that house wouldn't be so big and so intimidating. If she'd been standing in front of a small house with a tiny front-yard or even an apartment complex, it wouldn't have been so bad. But she hadn't expected, well, this. Her mother had never once told her that her father was loaded. Living like this, he surely would have to be loaded. If it was his own house. Other people were living here as well. Maybe the house belonged to one of them.

It was surrounded with big gardens, and a high brick wall secured the place from curious looks from the outside. The wrought-iron front gate however was open, and a long winding driveway led straight up to the mansion, three stories tall, with it's white walls, big framed windows and the wooden double-doors where a flight of steps led to. In front of the house was a wide open space where several cars were parked, and a rather big building, assumingly a garage, had been built at the other side of the big courtyard. Two big and heavy stoney gargoyles seemed to watch over the house and surely made it look a bit creepy when walking towards it in the middle of the night.

Grabbing her suitcases, she started to walk towards the house, not really knowing what to expect. She half expected the gargoyle-statues to turn into real gargoyles, flying towards her, chasing her out, telling her that she had no business being here, that she was not welcome and nor would she ever be. You're not family! Wrong. I am. I'm going to belong here. I have a right to be here. This is where I should have grown up in the first place.

Trying to concentrate on something else, she looked further around, studying the big mountain off to the right of the mansion. This must be the volcano Google Earth had mentioned. It was apparently still active, but there hadn't been any volcanic eruption in this area for many, many years. Still, how weird was that, living next to an active volcano?

The closer she got to the house, the more she slowed down. When she reached the gargoyles, she nearly turned and ran. But somehow, she gathered enough courage to keep walking over to the steps that led up to the wide wooden doors. Finally. She was here.

But of course, standing in front of the closed door didn't help. She had to make a move before someone discovered her standing out there with her luggage, thinking she was a crazy stalker or something.

Hi. My name is Amy, and I am your daughter.

Hi. You once knew someone named Cathleen O'Connor. I'm her daughter.

I'm Amy O'Connor. Guess what? I'm your daughter.

The more she thought about a decent introduction, the more she felt the pressure building up. Biting her lip, she put both suitcases down. She had to act now, or she'd drive herself crazy. Her hands were all sweaty and she felt hot, although it was a rather cool day. Nervous, she tried to put her messy black hair back into the ponytail but gave it up after a while and decided to leave it falling down her shoulders. It wouldn't matter anyway.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked at the door, half expecting it to remain closed. But it only took half a minute before a little asian-looking boy opened the door, eying her curiously.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely.

"Ummm, kinda," she replied, nervously shoving her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket to prevent them from shaking. "I'm looking for someone, actually."

"Well, odds are probably in your favor, since quite a few people are living here," the boy grinned. "Wanna give me a name? Or, let me guess, probably Rick or LJ? Did they forget a date or something? Or are you a friend of Jedda's from school? A friend of April's from Space Academy?"

The names did all sound unfamiliar and didn't ring a bell. Amy shook her head. No, she didn't know any of them yet. But they were probably her age or younger, since school and Space Academy had been mentioned by the boy.

"I'm looking for Mandrake the Magician," she finally managed to get out.

The boy looked surprised. "Mandrake, huh? He's somewhere in his study. Who can I tell him is looking for him? He's not going to subscribe to another newspaper or something." His gaze dropped to her suitcases. "Or whatever else you're selling."

"I'm not selling anything," she assured him. And, taking a deep breath, she looked the boy in the eyes, afraid she'd back off as soon as he was gone fetching Mandrake. "He and I have a common acquaintance. My mother, actually."

"Your mother?" the boy asked, sounding confused.

"Cathleen O'Connor," she managed to get out, her gaze still fixated on the boy.

Suddenly, all color seemed to drain from his face. He took hold of the doorframe, staring at her, probably seeing what she saw everyday when looking into a mirror. A pale face which would have made Snow White jealous, dark eyes, very long, dark, curly hair, full red lips. She looked like a younger version of her mother, and apparently, the boy had known Cathleen, because he seemed to realize that now, too.

"Woah," he whispered. And then he suddenly stepped away from the doorway. "Please, do come in. I'll go get Mandrake."

She nodded, carrying her suitcases into a great marmoreal hall from where a big, broad staircase led further upstairs and heavy wooden doors led into other rooms.

The boy closed the doors behind her. "I'll be right back," he said. And then, after giving her another glance, he turned and ran away.

Hi, I'm Amy O'Connor. And I am your daughter.

----------

Article

Author

Chapters

1: Death

April and the other Gordons face a tragedy.

2: Beautiful

Mandrake is reunited with a romantic interest.

3: Peace and Quiet

Flash is thrown into an unexpected struggle.