Unbroken Wings (Unbreakable)

[Misty]

Author: me
Fandom: Unbreakable
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or stories.
Publish Date: 2-18-04

Chapter 1/4

It had been one year to the day since David Dunn had exchanged that fateful hand-shake with Elijah Price as he sat so coldly in his wheelchair, the hand-shake that had revealed Elijah's evil machinations in searching for the very man whose hand he touched: that of David Dunn's.

David had known the inevitable, that even though he and his wife had supposedly worked things out, it was only temporary. He did end up moving to New York. He felt alone, but there was no longer that "sadness" that had plagued him so before. For he now knew his purpose in life. Even though he didn't see or talk to his son as often as he'd hoped, he was still filled with a sense of peace that his life had taken this final turn, for the better.

Last year, David had been the only survivor of a train derailing in Philadelphia. This was the event that had led him to Elijah, who at first, seemed as though he really wanted to help David. Elijah ran an art gallery and was very into the mythology of superheroes and villains. He lived it. He was a comic junkie. It was his life. He'd spent most of his childhood and adolescent days staying closed inside his house, for he had a rare bone condition. His bones broke quite easily, even from minor things like stress fractures. In fact, when Elijah was born, he'd exited his mother's womb with broken arms and legs. Somehow, miraculously he'd managed to survive into adulthood. But, he was always searching for the one who was opposite him, the one who was Unbreakable, the one who could give him a purpose in life.

Unbeknownst to David, Elijah had staged many accidents and tragedies, always in anticipation of what the news would say... "sole survivor." That was how he would find his Unbreakable checkmate. It was not until David had shaken hands with him in the end, that the images of Elijah's past actions had entered his mind and haunted him. David had walked away in tears that day, feeling somehow responsible for what Elijah had done to all those innocent people.

Elijah had spent some time in a mental institution upon being found guilty of genocide, but because of his weakened medical state, he was given time off for early behavior and clemency. "Most times, the hero and the villain are friends, like us," Elijah had spoken that day. "Now that we know who you are, I know who I am. I'm not a mistake, David." The words still echoed in the Unbreakable one's mind. "I should have known a long time ago by the kids; they called me Mister Glass."

Mr. Glass and Mr. Unbreakable. Friends, ironically. Arch enemies, without a doubt. As he ventured to begin his new job as head of security at Giants Stadium, David knew he would inevitably see Elijah again, and have to be reminded that he was now in fact a "superhero."

David's life had been somewhat of a mystery to him for many, many years. He'd never felt he had a purpose. He'd never been injured, never been sick. How could this be? Why hadn't he put the puzzle pieces together before this? The only thing he had in common with Elijah Price was that they both reacted the same way to water. It was David's weakness. All superheroes had one. It was the design of the mythology.

David met one of the venders on the street outside the stadium. He was wearing his usual dark-colored rain smock. There were clouds about today. He didn't want to take any chances. He bought a cup of coffee and entered the stadium proper. He entered the locker rooms and suited up for work. He took a swig of java. He sighed. The coffee was too hot against his tongue, but it didn't hurt. It didn't burn. It never did. This was David's life. He wondered if anything had ever truly hurt him, physically or otherwise? He wondered just how long would he live, since his bones never aged, his organs never failed. Would he have to kill himself to meet a final rest... drowning by water?

David left the locker rooms, coffee in hand. He prepared to start the day and met the first eager spectators at the gates.

[Misty]

Chapter 2/4

David allowed his extra sensory perception to flow as he concentrated on each spectator entering through the gates and metal detectors. This practice had become the norm, and he'd been able to pick out more than one gun-toting psycho on occasion. Something caused David to wince and break his concentration when a particular female casually strode by. She did not appear distressed or off-kilter in any way. Yet, something was odd. She was burying some kind of secret deep inside her. David knew one thing. This woman was not here to watch the Giants play.

As she passed by him, he held out his hand to touch the sleeve of her pink windbreaker. He immediately detected a vivid mental flash, which momentarily blinded him. It was the woman, sitting in a court room. She was well-dressed in a Valentino-type ladies' suit. Her soft blond hair was pulled tightly in a bun. The judge sat austerely upon the bench, explaining his ruling about custody and restraining orders.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but I have no choice but to grant a permanent restraining order against you and to award your estranged husband full custody of Mark. Given your history of prescription pill addiction, it seems best for the time being. You are further hereby remanded to attend a rehabilitation program."

The flash grew fainter until it totally escaped David's reach, when she was gone. He reared his head to catch a solid glimpse of her back as she entered the stadium. She was carrying something. She had something underneath that jacket, some kind of weapon. Why would a single woman attend a ballgame? There was only one explanationl, well, perhaps two. Perhaps she was meeting her drug dealer here, or, perhaps her husband and son were at this game and she wanted some sort of justice.

Feeling a sense of urgency about the situation, David immediately pulled out his walkie-talkie and requested a replacement at the gates, so he could pursue the blond woman. He had to intercede. It was, after all, in his nature. David waited impatiently for his back-up to arrive. He didn't want to allow an opportunity to save a life escape him. He would have failed his life's mission then.

Another security guard arrived onsite to relieve David. David nodded to the man and tore off like a bat out of hell into the bleachers, searching for the woman. He sensed that she had known just what seating area to approach. He stopped and shut his eyes for a moment, holding out his arms like divining rods. Which way had she gone?

Another image entered his mind. He was back in the court room as a spectator once again. "But Your Honor, this man has physically abused me and my son! This is a travesty of justice!" the woman cried out in tears as her husband's lawyer simply smirked smugly. David's urgent feelings increased tremendously at this point. The woman meant to kill her husband and take her son back. She had been concealing a gun underneath that coat!

David suddenly felt dizzy as more images and flashes plagued him. He saw glimpses of the woman again, this time in an orange suit, facing another judge. She was in handcuffs. Then, he was startled by how vivid the image of her being brutally sodomized in the women's penitentiary was, in his mind. Fearing for this woman's life, he grabbed hold of her location in the bleachers above, and began the rapid trek upward.

[Misty]

Chapter 3/4

David made his way quickly up the bleachers, taking each seat in a leaping bound as he approached the blonde, who was now facing a dark-haired gentleman and a red-headed boy who looked to be about twelve.

"Mom!" the boy exclaimed as he attempted to break free of his father and run toward her.

"No, Mark! She's not allowed contact with us!" the man reprimanded harshly, pulling his son back.

"But Dad! Please!" Mark persisted, tears in his eyes. "She just wants to watch the game with us. She just wants-"

"Quiet down now, son, or the cops'll come! Just stop it, Mark!" the man scolded, evilly eyeing his estranged wife. She was reaching into her pink jacket.

"Ma'am, no! I have to ask you to step away from the bleachers!" David found himself interjecting, as though speaking in tongues. He was operating on sheer instinct at this point.

He accosted her from behind, a move that would usually be considered stupid when approaching an assailent, but David could not be injured. He would most likely survive a shotgun wound with no problems. But then again, the clouds above were thickening, and in a rainstorm, David could be weakened.

Presently, he wasn't considering that possibility at all as he methodically secured his hands around the woman's wrists, guiding her backward.

"Lady, this isn't the way!" he whispered against her face. "It's not. You'll go to prison. Trust me!" he protested. He backed the woman against the wall facing the outdoor aisle. Their altercation was beginning to draw a crowd.

Onlookers who did not understand the situation began to voice protests. "Hey, leave her alone, you pig!" shouted one of the spectators as he hurled a bottle of beer in David's general direction. He ducked as it smashed against the wall. The blonde screamed.

"Get off me, man!" she hollered, starting to writhe and struggle against him. "That's my son and I want to see him!" she added with a fiery roar.

David immediately secured her in a baskethold and pressed his mouth against her ear, hissing, "I know you have a gun. Now, listen to me! You use that fuckin' thing, you lose all chances of ever being happy again. Do you understand? Do you understand me?" he growled breathlessly.

The woman, obviously stunned that David knew her dark secret, ceased struggling and sank down a bit in his arms, beginning to cry profusely. "I just wanted to see my SON!" she bellowed incoherently.

"I know, I know you did," David whispered in an attempt to hush her. "But, there are other ways. Just talk to your husband. Maybe you can come to an agreement," he suggested, loosening his grip on her.

The man stood up, guarding his son behind him. He scowled and pointed angrily at his wife. "This woman's crazy! Take her away!" he insisted.

"Now, sir, I'm not about to do that just yet. Try to calm down," David placated to no avail.

"YOU are security, asshole! I SAID, take her away from me! She's dangerous!" the man spat viciously.

"Jason, please! I just want to see Mark," the blonde again insisted. "Please?" she asked softly, her tearful broken voice quivering with the hushed silence of the onlookers.

Jason looked around him, frowning. "You never change, Faith. Always making a spectacle of yourself! This what you call a good example for our son?"

"Good, that's good," David began. "You're talking. You're both talking. Now..." he looked toward the blonde. "Faith? That's a beautiful name." He turned his focus back to Jason. "And Jason, and... Mark?" he verified, looking down at the frightened boy. He nodded, still hiding behind his father.

"Well, look. The game hasn't started yet. What do you say we go back to the concession area here and work this out?" David posed.

Mark looked up at his father, who then looked at Faith, and she back to Jason.

"I think you three can discuss this calmly," David added, eyeing them all carefully. He could feel he was winning them over.

"This, this is crazy!" Jason interjected. "You, buddy, are a security guard, not a fuckin' psychoanalyst!"

"I'm a mediator, Sir. It's part of what I do. And right now, I'm mediating, so either join your wife and me back there or I'll have all of you removed!" David barked, startling the boy a hair. "I'm sorry," David immediately digressed.

"Whatever! This is fucking pathetic!" Jason bellowed as he reluctantly followed David, who led the way for the others.

"Back to your business, folks," David instructed of the onlookers.

[Misty]

Chapter 4/4

Jason, Faith, and Mark followed David to the concessions area. They stood in a circle, the three family members eyeballing one another with much emotion.

"Can you hurry it up, buddy? I don't wanna miss the game," Jason complained bitterly, staring his estranged wife down like a vulture over his prey.

"The name's David, buddy," David mocked slightly, "and I'll take as long as I have to." Then he turned to Faith. "What were you thinking?" he asked cryptically, not wanting to reveal the fact that she'd brought a gun to a public place.

Faith simply shook her head. "I just wanted to see my son. You don't know what the damned system's done to me! The judge won't let me see him..." she cried.

"Because you're a god damned drug addict, Faith!" hissed Jason. Mark then started to cry.

"I don't care if she does drugs. She's still my mom and you shouldn't keep me from her! Dad, you lied to me. You told me she was in jail and that's why I couldn't call her!" Crocodile tears were streaming down Mark's face.

"You told him what, Jason?" Faith exclaimed. "Dammit! I was not in jail. I was in a place to detox!" She looked to David. "YOU tell him! You seem to know everything," she pleaded.

"Um... so are you completely clean, then?" David interjected, eyeing Faith strongly, as though demanding her to be truthful.

"Well... I still have my bad days but everybody falls off the wagon. I'm trying. I got a sponser from NA and everything," she declared. Then she looked at her husband. "While we're playing the judgment game here, are YOU still beating up women?" she glowered.

"I never meant to hurt you Faith," Jason replied defensively.

"That's not what I asked! Besides, it doesn't matter what you meant to do; it matters what you did!" she protested.

David looked toward Jason. "She does have a point," he acknowledged.

"Oh great! So both of yous are against me. Who is this clown, Faith, your boyfriend or something?" Jason demanded, elevating his voice.

"I've never seen him before in my life! You think because we're separated I would do something like that?" she balked.

David was then reminded of how he and Audrey had lived together, but separated all that time, how Joseph had managed to remain loyal to both of them. He realized that, despite his tribulations in the past, he'd really had it good compared to this family.

"If you hadn't accused me of cheating in the first place all the time, and beating me up, maybe I wouldn't have needed drugs to forget!" Faith added hostily.

"Oh, so this is all MY fault?" Jason shouted.

"Stop fighting! Stop fighting!" Mark objected. "Can't we all just be a family again? Look. Dad's in a group for his problem..."

"Mark! Hush up about that!" Jason fumed.

"He's in a group and Mom's out of rehab," he continued, ignoring his father's plea. "Maybe it's time to go back to the judge and make him throw out that piece of paper!" he exclaimed tearfully.

"Are you?" Faith questioned, somewhat shocked and hesitant. "Are you in a... therapy group?"

Jason frowned and nodded once, looking away. He was obviously abashed over being in "therapy." Blue collar ego.

"And a child shall lead them," David commented calmly, smiling at the boy. He then looked at Faith and Jason. "Sounds like the two of you might have some things to discuss," he suggested.

"I don't know, man," Jason stated ambivalently.

"We have to figure something out, Jay. At least allow me to have supervised visits with Mark. That's a start," she began.

"You can't be high!" Jason instructed. "You wanna see him, you do it sober."

"I can live with that," Faith concurred. Then the family of three looked to David for further instruction.

"All I can say is... I had a family once. I let things slip by, ignored little problems, until they became too big. We aren't together anymore. Don't let that happen," David said sadly.

"Don't let it happen," he repeated under his breath as he turned to walk away. During his short journey back to his post, he was struck with a vision once again, only this time, it was much more pleasant. It was the three in the court room, and the judge was delegating the new terms... joint custody. David smiled to himself.

He thought it rather funny. He hadn't needed to use brawn, bravado, or force to make a good thing happen and save three lives today. He merely had to be there... to be someone objective who would listen, who actually gave a damn about three complete strangers. Perhaps that, in itself, was the real definition of a hero.