Dynamics of a Human Heart

Mother

Tell your children not to hold my hand

Tell your children not to understand

Oh mother

Father

Do you wanna bang heads with me

Do you wanna feel everything

Oh father

Not about to see your light

And if you wanna find hell with me

I can show you what it's like

Till your bleeding

-Danzig "Mother"

Everyone believes that fear comes in the night. That midnight is the time to be afraid.

It isn't; fear comes in the dark hours of the morning. The day begins as inevitable as the progression of a disease.

This is the time to be afraid.

Miranda was afraid. For the first time she could remember; mortal fear and dread settled into her body like cancer.

What are we going to do? What happens

tomorrow

?

She looked over at the clock; it read 2:15 in the morning.

Today.

She mentally corrected. A spasm of anguish wracked her body causing her to shudder.

Oh Grey, what have you done?

She heard Sam whispering quietly in the dark and she strained to hear.

Her movement caught the other girl's attention and she felt Sam's hand grip her own; it was slick with cold sweat but still firm. "Miri..." It was a sound between a whisper and a sigh.

"Sam," Miranda breathed, "What are we going to do?"

The other girl gave a sharp exhalation of breath, "I was just thinking that," she said without any humor. "Do you want to know what I was doing just now?"

"What?"

"Praying," she looked over at her lover; her profile painted in the digital crimson light of the clock, "do you think that's weird? That a math nerd is praying?"

Miranda gave her hand a squeeze, "No baby, of course not," she smiled a little despite herself, "Your faith is actually one of the things about you I've always envied."

"Really? Why?"

Miranda sighed, trying to put it into words, "Because faith isn't like science; it doesn't require proof or computations, it simply

is

," she sighed, "I wish I could do that. Be that brave, to believe in something greater than myself."

"You believe in science, in the mechanics of the universe," Sam gave Miri's smaller hand a squeeze, "You believe in the Big Bang, the birth of the cosmos and how it might all play out."

"I don't

believe

, I

know

."

Sam frowned, "What's the difference?"

"Faith."

Sam thought upon that and then, astonishingly, began to chuckle quietly.

"What?" Miri asked

"Leave it to us, in our deepest, most despairing moment, to somehow go from supportive pillow talk to ridiculously over-intellectualized debate in less than a minute."

The other girl smiled a little at that. "There is one thing," she murmured, "One thing that I can claim both knowledge and belief."

"What's that, sweetie?"

"You. Us," Miranda turned her head to face her lover, "Whatever happens today, I want you to know how proud I am of you. And no matter what they try to take from us, they cannot take away the fact that I am insanely in love with you and I am going to be marrying you as soon as I can make it happen." Miranda moved to her lover's side, and propping herself up on her elbow, she bent low and kissed her softly on the mouth.

"They will never take that away from me."

Sam's eyes were shimmering as she took Miranda's head in both her hands and kissed her fiercely.

"I love you so much!" the blonde girl hissed fervently.

"I know."

Miranda settled back down, resting her head on the other girl's shoulder.

A beat, and then,

"There is still one, other factor," Sam said sounding dreadful.

"Don't say it," Miranda begged, squeezing her hand tightly.

"Grey. What are we going to do about Grey?"

Miranda barked a humorless laugh, "The last time he felt provoked, he castrated someone with a piece of glass," Miranda covered her eyes with her free hand, "And from what I hear of it, he was in perfect control the whole time."

"I'd say he's not in control anymore," Sam repressed a shudder of revulsion at the memory of Grey's face, rugged and cold one moment, exploding into a convulsing mass of violence and madness.

Sam turned her head to look down at Miranda; the other girl lifted her head to meet her gaze,

"When we told him what...what those people are going to do to us," the girl shook her head, "I've never seen anything like it and I sure as shit hope to never see it again. Screw the Hillsgroves, I'm worried about what he's going to do," she exhaled hard, "That family, the worse they can do to us is fire us, cost us tenure, make sure we never work in our fields ever again. But if they provoke Grey," she exhaled hard, "Oh, man. It's possible that not everyone is going to be leaving that room upright."

"Do you really think he'd go that far?" Miranda whispered, stunned at the idea.

"For us, yeah I do. Especially you, Miri," she kissed the top of her head, "He's as fascinated with you, as you are with him."

"What do you mean? He seems to like you more than me; me he just laces into whenever the mood strikes him."

"He likes me," Sam admitted. "I think. At least as much as he can 'like' anyone, especially a woman, or had you not noticed that all his so-called 'friends' are of the male persuasion?

"It had not escaped my notice."

"But you, wow, I've seen the way he looks at you;" Sam struggled for the words, "He...longs for you, burns for you, no pun intended."

"What are you talking about?" Miranda demanded.

"I can't describe it, he looks at you—" suddenly, Sam closed her eyes and sighed as understanding came to her.

"Looks at me...like you do," Miranda finished.

"Yeah," Sam whispered, "Miranda, I think he loves you. Or what passes for 'love' in whatever wreckage of a heart and mind he still possesses."

"Love me?" Miranda whispered in shock; reality quickly slipping away from her grasp, "Grey...loves me?"

"I think so, yeah," Sam said quietly, kissing the top of the other girl's head, "Are you okay with that?"

"I don't know," Miri swallowed, "It's...impossible."

"Why?"

"Because love requires trust, commitment..."

"Sometimes lunatic passion and animal attraction can blow all of that to Hell," Sam took a deep breath, "Do you love him?"

"No."

"Do you want to?"

Miranda took a moment, "No. No, I don't think so. He's not well," Miranda tried to explain, "And he tends to cause a great deal of collateral damage and I don't want you or me getting caught in that."

Sam exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, "Good, okay. I know you're attracted to him."

"Unfortunately," Miranda muttered.

"But you see him for what he is and you're smart enough to keep your distance," Sam reached out and tucked a lock of the other girl's hair behind her ear, "Do you think we'll ever be free of him?"

"I really hope so. I want my old life back."

A beat.

"That's not going to happen, Miri. His involvement has been like a catalyst. I don't know what the future is going to be, sweetie," she squeezed the girl's hand, "But whatever it is, we'll face it together."

Miranda smiled and kissed her lover, "I can deal with that."

Sam smiled back at her before looking over at the clock, "Get some rest, lover, I think we're going to need it to be ready."

"Ready for what?"

"The worst."

There was little sleep to be had as the dawn soon arrived.

The girls got up and went about their daily routine.

"What does one wear when one is facing 'the Inquisition'?" Miranda asked.

"Something that nobody would expect," Sam replied instantly and Miranda laughed.

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" both girls called out.

"Maybe when all this insanity is over, we can watch some of that? I think we'll need some laughs," Sam put forth.

"Safe bet."

Then the doorbell rang. Both girls frowned. It was barely six in the morning.

"Who on earth...?" Miranda asked confused as she went to the door.

"I can think of someone," Sam replied, suddenly looking anxious.

"He wouldn't!"

Miranda opened the door.

"Good morning ladies."

"He didn't," Sam breathed with relief. Then Miranda stared past the man to the waiting town car behind him.

"No, he did," Miranda sighed,

Damn you Grey,

she thought to herself, "Hello Virgil, how are you?"

The Cajun smiled and nodded formally; he was impeccably dressed, a far cry from the bus driver he'd been just last night.

"Well, thank you

cher,

how are you and Ms. Adler?" he gave her an impish smile, "Though as I understand it, it may be 'Mrs. Inoue' in the near future. Congratulations."

Sam threw her hands up in the air, "We might as well have taken out an engagement announcement in the Star given how many people already know."

"Forgive me, it was not my intent to overstep," the man put forth contritely.

"It's not you, Virgil," Miranda explained with some trepidation, "It's your...friend. He's entirely too well-informed."

"He's a nosy know-it-all, pain-in-the-ass!" Sam roared.

"That too."

Virgil smiled broadly, "I do concur," then his expression changed, "I understand that you girls will be going through something very difficult today."

"Certainly one way to put it, yeah," Sam commented.

"Grey asked me to look in on you and see that you get to wherever it is you're headed safely and as comfortably as possible," he gestured behind himself, "that's what the car is for."

"Certainly homier than the bus," Miranda said as an aside to herself. She took a deep breath and threw her shoulders back, lifting her head high. She turned and gave Sam an expression full of love.

Screw the Hillsgroves', screw Grey, I am winning this fight.

Sam smiled at the sight of her lover transforming into the mighty woman with the burning eyes of amethyst that had almost brought the most frightening and intense man she'd ever seen, to his knees.

"Let's go get them,

Getseui,"

she raised her fist into the air, "

Banzai!

"

Miranda laughed aloud, "

Banzai!"

she reiterated.

"Vive La Revolution!"

Virgil joined the laughter as he thrust his fist aloft and it was in that moment of shared laughter and defiance in the face of fear that the three of them became friends.

"Come on," Virgil beckoned, "Time to go."

"Bring it, bitches!" Sam growled.

"Amen,

mon cher

."

He escorted the girls to the car and opened the back doors for them, ushering them inside. Awaiting them inside was what appeared to be a small table and two covered platters.

"What in the fuck?" Sam asked bewildered. The platters were large, but not overly so and appeared to be made of brushed copper. The dome covering was made of carnival glass; it glittered like gems. Helpfully taped to each lid, were pieces of high-quality paper with their names written in a flowing copperplate style.

"Whoa," Miranda mumbled to herself, "What is all this?"

"Breakfast," Virgil answered helpfully as he got into the driver's seat. "

Bon appetite

."

The girls looked at each other and shrugged, refusing to let the weirdness that was Grey faze them.

Sam reached over and removed the lid from one of them.

"Grits!" she cackled, "Holy shit, he made grits!" she quickly took tally of what was presented before her, "And pumpkin cornbread!" she tore a hunk of cornbread free, ladled a large helping of grits onto it with the provided silverware and consumed it whole.

"And he used Pimento cheese, God help me if he had a vagina and could breathe through his ears he'd be perfect!" Miranda grinned and Virgil laughed at the other girl's enjoyment.

Sam was still discovering her breakfast, even as she began to ravage it. "And Hush-puppies! How the fuck does a fucking Englishman even know how to make good hush puppies?"

"I taught him, Ms. Adler," Virgil called back.

"'Sam' please, Virgil, call me 'Sam'," she instructed around a mouthful of grits, "And for the entrée, Country ham."

"Not just any kind, Sam: A homemade Jack Daniels glaze with of bit of Carolina dry rub," the Cajun informed her.

Sam almost squealed in delight as she tore into the meat. "Thirsty!" she called out with a very full mouth.

"Your manners are atrocious," Miranda observed.

"Fuck you; do you know how long it's been since I had a proper Tennessee breakfast?" She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and gestured at her lover with her fork emphatically, "The only thing that's missing—"

"There should be a sealed container near the tray," Virgil replied to her earlier inquiry. Sam furtively searched and found it along with a small glass.

"Oh please, oh please, oh please," Carefully Sam removed the lid from the spill-proof container and inhaled deeply,

"Sweet tea. I take it all back, the man is an angel."

"So was Lucifer," Miranda retorted.

"Miri?"

"Yes, Sammy?"

"Lighten the hell up. If this is to be my last meal, I mean to enjoy it," she poured the tea into the glass, "'and don't call me 'Sammy," she took a long pull, "Oh yeah, that's the stuff. Merry fucking Christmas," she gestured at Miranda's own covered dish, "You're not eating?"

"I'm not hungry."

Sam scowled at her, "Come on, please? I want to know what he made."

Miranda rolled her eyes but obliged the girl and removed the lid:

"A traditional Japanese breakfast: Broiled fish, steamed rice, miso soup—"

"What's that?" Sam interrupted pointing.

"That's

tamagoyaki.

It's kind of like an omelet."

"Oh," she gestured, "What's that, it smells weird," she wrinkled her nose.

"

Kuso

, I don't believe it," Miranda took hold of a pair of jade chopsticks she found resting alongside the disk and brought a helping up to her nose, inhaling deeply, "This is called '

natto'

it's a soybean dish, pretty popular as a breakfast food."

"Smells like another 'acquired taste'."

"Can't argue," Miranda said with a chuckle as she put the food into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully before swallowing, "Damn it, that's good. He could put my mother to shame."

"That I would love to see," Sam grinned impishly.

"So would I," she reached over to a sealed container, identical to the one that had held Sam's precious sweet tea.

"No, wait, don't tell me," Sam brought her fingers to her head as if in deep concentration, "It's...tea, right?"

Miranda gingerly removed the lid and inhaled, "What the--?" She poured the liquid out into the provided cup.

"It's...milk?" Sam asked puzzled as Miranda took an experimental sip.

"It's

mageu

."

"Okay, and what is it?"

"It's not Japanese by a long shot," Miranda took another sip and couldn't help but smile around the rim of the glass, "But it's a staple of a proper breakfast back in Johannesburg."

"Ah, so he did remember that you're a mutt," Sam had gobbled up all of the ham and the grits did not appear to be long for this world, "Clever little shit."

"Yeah," Miranda drank and was reminded of simpler, if not better, times. She was unsurprised when her thoughts turned to Grey.

Show off.

"Sorry to interrupt," Virgil called out, "But there's a package under the seat that he asked you examine when you had finished eating."

"Dibs!" Sam called out as she dove for the package. It was a long box, surprising light, "What do we have here?" She removed the lid slowly.

Blue flowered plants resting upon a bed of white flowers with long green stems and flanked by what appeared to be thyme. Resting upon it was a small folded up piece of paper. Sam frowned, "What the hell?"

"The blue flowers are called 'borage', the white ones are called 'edelweiss' I think, and the rest is thyme," Virgil informed her helpfully.

"But what does it all mean?" Sam scrutinized the flowers as Miranda removed the card, "I mean, it's Grey, it has to have a hidden message."

"All I know," Virgil replied, "is that flowers stand for certain things, like how roses mean 'love' and all that."

"So what do these flowers symbolize?" Sam asked.

Miranda read the card:

Don't be afraid.

She closed her eyes, bringing the note to her lips and smiling.

Thank you, Grey.

Virgil brought the car around to the faculty parking lot.

"Courage."

The girls braced for the worst.

It wasn't enough.

"I don't care who they are or whatever ridiculous politically correct bullshit policies you choose to run this piss-pot of a school with, I want their heads!"

Miranda and Sam exchanged a grimace; the voices were audible from down the hall.

"Whatever your feelings are regarding my policies and their political correctness," Vega replied with the calm of age and iron, "You are in my school and you will keep a civil tone. I do not brook bullying or intimidation amongst the student body, I certainly do not tolerate it against my person or those, to whom I represent, are we entirely clear?"

A beat as Sam and Miranda approached the threshold.

Abandon all hope ye who enter here,

Miranda reflected forlornly.

"Have it your way," the other voice growled, "When do the little dykes get here?"

"The 'dykes' can speak for themselves."

Several pairs of eyes turned to regard the pair as they entered the office.

"My name is Doctor Miranda Inoue," she gestured, "And this is Doctor Samantha Adler. You will address us in that manner."

The man opposite them was tall and whip-thin, with angular features that reminded her uncomfortably of Grey for a moment. He was dressed in a three-piece suit the color of ash and was accompanied by a thin, nervous looking woman that could only be described as 'plain'.

Then the man's features twisted in disdain, giving his eyes a distinctly "piggy" appearance that reminded Miranda of the first time someone had called her a "gook" when she was eleven.

"Don't you dar—"

"You will address them with respect, Edward, or we can discuss this manner in a formal and very public trial, understood?"

Edward seethed; his face flushed and hateful.

"Whatever," he reached into his suit pocket, jerked out a cigar and lit it with a chrome lighter, taking a long pull and blowing a cloud of noxious smoke towards the two girls.

Miranda chose to ignore it and instead focused on Dean Vega and Isabel standing behind him. Both of them dressed as formally and somberly as she had ever seen them. Under other circumstances, they would have looked elegant. Here, the president's black suit and Isabel's dark brown blouse and slacks simply looked grim. Their expressions matched and Isabel sent Sam a long, suffering, look that tried to convey all the sympathy she could whilst remaining silent in the presence of these monsters.

Edward wasted no time, "Where is the man who tried to kill my son?"

"If he had been trying to kill your son," Miranda replied evenly, "he would be dead."

"Watch your mouth, missy, I can grind you and your little girlfriends careers into mush like

that!

" he snapped his fingers, "Now, where is he?"

"He isn't here," Sam replied simply.

Edward stepped towards her and Miranda slid easily between them.

"Step back, Mister Hillsgrove. Now."

The man looked like he was ready to take a swing at the woman. Miranda held him in a look for burning violent.

"I said, Step! Back!"

"Or what?"

"Or Grey will mutilate you," Sam wheeled herself around Miranda to face the enraged man.

"Am I supposed to be afraid?"

"You should be, we are," Sam replied simply, "What, you thought we were his friends? The man's psychotic, he doesn't

have

friends. He doesn't care about us, we amuse him. He considers us entertainment, a trained pet to dance to his tune," Sam dropped her voice to growl, "But if you fuck with that, he'll make

you

his newest source of fun and believe me, he plays rough with his toys. Just ask Jeffrey," Sam swallowed past a lump in her throat, she'd be damned if she was going to show a shred of fear in front of this bastard, "Your son intended to pass me around his friends like a joint."