Missed Connections (31 page)

Tony wouldn't have the name for the rest of his life, at least he hoped he wouldn't, and he liked his real name more, even if that was the only thing he'd kept from his old life. His real name and the guy that had made him learn to appreciate rain and find life hilarious. Because that's what it really was, one big joke, and it continued to be so even if the little ordinary humans didn't see the humor of it. But Tony wouldn't get to repay that debt ever, so the importance of the guy’s behavior that day was known only to him. That made him appreciate it all the more.

Contrary to his parents' opinion, Tony had it all, or at least a lot more than they assumed he would get his hands on, and he had made it through life with his 'indecent' brain. That was his major strength and Tony had known he had to hone his talent with computers, because he was going to bet everything on it. A make-it-or-break-it type of thing, and, though the situation was less than ideal–because Tony was the guy who still had a plan after the first five, after all—he had had to take the risk and get away from his parents.

It had worked. Against all odds, it had worked, and now Tony had almost all he needed. Independently wealthy, doing what he enjoyed, and being out of his parents’ reach. That was more that he had planned on. But, somewhere along the way, he changed and it wasn’t enough anymore.

Tony could probably stop with the money gathering considering he had cops swirling around and he had more than enough. But he had a few plans which still needed financing and to be honest the temptation was too large. The temptation to make fools of so many different badges running around like headless chickens trying, in vain, to stop him. The temptation to show he was the best, even though his family would never know it. And, even if by some miracle they managed to find out, they wouldn't understand the sheer magnitude of all Tony had proven to be capable of time and time again. The temptation of being in danger one more time and managing to get off scot-free. The temptation to win more money.

It was too much for him to resist. Tony knew he would get burned if he kept going, because he wouldn’t be able to fool the badges indefinitely. Nonetheless, until they did manage to stop him, Tony couldn't. He just couldn’t. His only hope was that when it happened, it wouldn't be too bad. 

Here Tony was in some sort of café—Cherry Coke on the right, M&Ms on his left, and laptop front and center with the whole world for general background noise—as he sat there thinking about doing some money transferring. He knew that the Feds were monitoring this bank. They
must
be, with how it practically winked at him and smiled with the promise of never-seen-before security. The question was: to take the bait or leave it dangling so seductively? He could siphon off a bit. The Feds would notice only afterwards, he gets points for making them feel like idiots, but there was enough money there to complete all his plans. And he needed to stop.

Better said, Tony needed to be stopped.

 The temptation was too much. But that wasn’t the main problem. Tony had noticed the change creeping up on him, had observed its effects in his behavior and his feelings. His hacking wasn't all about survival anymore, it wasn't even about the high—it was just about the money. Almost all he did now centered on it, and as with any addiction, he couldn't stop. Tony always felt it wasn't enough, though it was a lot more than he had ever imagined, and if he were to think clearly, he would realize it was more that he could ever spend while maintaining a pretty high standard of living.

However, it simply wasn't sufficient. It was like a weight a settled on his chest that wouldn't budge when he tried to rationalize his twitchiness away, only to lessen when he got more money. Even then, the relief never lasted for long and with each time, that brief period of respite shortened. Two weeks, then a week, then a few hours, then an hour, then… who knew? Maybe it would settle at a few minutes, then again maybe it would disappear completely and he'd be left with this hunger for more as his constant companion.

The situation didn't truly hit him until Tony had gotten mad at some firewall or another, instead of acknowledging its beauty. Any other time, he would have laughed at seeing the surprisingly crafty security defeat his code. The victory would have tasted sweeter when he finally managed to convince it to work for him.

But that almost hadn’t happened. After he had answered testily to a man's apologies for bumping into his seat, he had begun to comprehend that this angry persona he'd become if anything stood between him and his money was in no way similar to the man he'd promised he would be that rainy day. With that particularly painful discovery still smarting, he had shut his laptop, suddenly uncaring of the big pile of dollars hidden in the uppity bank's accounts and had remained sitting, sipping his drink, lost in thought.

That was the last time the need had almost overwhelmed him. It had gotten too close to making him everything he was not. He didn't think he could do it again like that, to stand tall in the face of this enormous hunger and say 'no' without flinching, without hesitation. Not anymore.

Not without powerful incentive.

Well, this was him, admitting he had a problem. Most people would have probably gone to a help group or a meeting. Tony even imagined himself standing in front of a room full of people, saying that he had a problem. Cheerfully declaring his addiction to money hidden by shiny security systems, which he broke into, naturally, and end the story of his addiction with a plea not to call the police—as the whole thing wasn't exactly legal. They'd look at him like he was insane and call the cops anyway. It wouldn’t be his choice or on his terms

It wouldn't even be his choice or on his terms.

Tony mentally shook his head. That would never work. What he needed was the mother of all 'when shit happens' lessons. He wanted to be thrown off his tall throne, to be broken and bloody, to be forced to learn so he wouldn't ever get into this situation again.

Smiling, Tony hit the bank with all he had, no subtlety, no cent left in the accounts. His smile morphed into a smirk when he suddenly felt a presence next to him, pose screaming authority. Tony wasn't that hard to find, he was the guy with his laptop not opened on Facenote. He leaned into his seat and took a sip of the drink. Was it truly the last one he would ever take? He shrugged mentally. Possibly. But then again, maybe not.

Tony had heard the stories; people like him were used as future employees, under constant watch, made to do what they did best, not serving as padding for uncountable prisons. That was one hell of a 'freedom'. Nevertheless, this not-freedom wasn't the compulsion to stay away from the world that he’d get otherwise and he'd take it. After all, it was something he got himself into. And if the opportunity presented itself, he had all those backup plans. He would be just fine.

"I like the whole stealth thing you were trying out. No sirens, huh?" Tony popped a few M&Ms into his mouth and said, "Unfortunately, that plan went to hell in a basket when you stepped in here. Did no one tell you that walk like a cop?"

The lady detective seemed unmoved. "You're still here, aren't you?" She continued, a bit skeptical, "Why are you still here?"

Tony frowned. "I'm not Superman; I can't fly over all the cars, nor am I bullet-proof. What did you expect? Take my chances in front of," he turned towards the window and raised his eyebrows appreciatively at the sheer number of cars waiting outside, "half the cops in this town, make a desperate dash for freedom and die heroically in a hail of bullets?" He looked at her pityingly. "Not my style."

"I'm placing you under arrest." She smoothly ignored his comment.

"You better or else your superior will have your head for wasting so many resources. Serious overkill."

She shrugged. "The Feds get the tab." The detective smiled slyly.

Tony smirked and stood. "I think I like you," he said while turning around and offering his hands. "I think you are my favorite detective to ever arrest me."

"Doesn't mean much. You haven't been caught before."

 "And I promise you will be my one and only." Tony whispered in a mockingly sweet voice. He felt her pause at the self-assured tone, but she closed the metal bracelets quick enough. She thought he was planning something and would be up all night trying to see where she went wrong. All the while Tony was in jail, so he should be excused if he thought this was a fair scenario. Honestly, he had no plan, but who knows what might come up? Life was full of surprises.

"Let's go," she ordered, visibly thrown and trying to catch up.

*~*~*

Tony didn't look up when the cell opened, choosing instead to retain his daydreaming position as he thought about how exactly he had gotten himself in this in the first place. Chin propped on his knees, hand circling his feet, head turned away from the door even if he was facing it, there was nothing about him that showed he was willing to have any kind of discussion. Tony couldn’t bring himself to say a quip or to summon a pleasant smile; what he really needed was to try to examine his thoughts.

He wasn't regretting his decision, but Tony had expected something to be different. Anything. But he found himself unfazed. First, the plan was Tony was never going to let himself be caught. Who, him? No. Then he decided it was for the best if he did get burnt for some things. Still, his reaction to the problem revolved around the words: so what? So what if he got caught? So what if he got arrested? And once he was prison, so what? He heaved a silent sigh. What was wrong with him? Did he not comprehend that he was in jail, as in, the place he never wanted to be?

There was no wave of desperation. No urge to run. No sudden drive to punch walls. He frowned. Again, what was wrong with him? What was his problem? Was he depressed or something? Because that's what all the MD sites said you had if you weren't in the mood for… life, basically. Didn't want to take responsibility for anything and just wanted to shut down, magicamboo, you were depressed. However, he took responsibility, so by his thinking, that should negate the amateurish diagnostic of an illness that no one said he actually had.

Tony blinked. Yes, he deserved all the points, because he had just managed to confuse himself. He was lucky he remembered that the bars of his cell were pretty hard before he made the brilliant decision of braining himself. Tony heaved another great sigh. He felt like he deserved at least that privilege, since nothing else was working for him.

He was fished out of his thoughts by a sharply indrawn breath, but mostly by the words that followed it.

"Kid. You're the kid," Tony’s cell mate said in dazed tone.

Tony’s head lifted and just as he was preparing some scathing reply about how he wasn't a kid, he stopped. He realized he knew the dark haired man and his painfully blue eyes—it was the guy. The guy with no name, who had made him love rain. Tony remembered those maybe three minutes yet again. With the same affection he did countless times before.

At first, Tony had only felt giddiness. But that's because he had been so small back then. They—afterwards he'd assumed he was with his parents, but never really knew for sure—had been on a trip to somewhere, doing something and there was someone's voice on the car radio. He'd kind of deleted the context, but he did remember he had been looking out the window, which had been hit with raindrops every couple of breaths, with his usual expression. Not really bored, not really entertained either. Not really looking forward to reaching their destination and not really being hesitant to reach it. Just, being, he guessed.

Apparently, Tony had looked sad, because there was this kid who had been making faces at him. Tony at first had presumed that he had been doing them for someone else, but the other kid had stuck in a parody of Tony's posture until they made eye contact. Then the guy had started making the most ridiculous movements and facial expressions. Remembering that always brought a smile on Tony’s face and an incredulous shake of his head when he recalled the meeting. Finally, with blue eyes sparkling, the other kid had got Tony laughing—silent and delighted. Tony had waved before the lights changed and they had left.

It wasn't until after the fact that Tony had thought about it with a clear head. And debt. He had thought about it for years on and off until he had finally got the full picture. How it was raining and the kid was supposed to be washing windshields. How the kid had probably been homeless and he had been making Tony—who had been out for a drive with his parents—laugh. The kid—who had probably been miserable in the rain—was making Tony laugh. And then the guilt came. How could Tony have been so stupid as to not realize what the other guy was going through? How could Tony have been so naïve that it didn't even compute to him that other people had it way worse?

After a few years and a truly astounding amount of shit Tony had been so 'fortunate' as to endure, he had finally understood that he could not blame himself for his ignorance that day. Yes, he had been naïve, but his eyes were soon opened and he'd never closed them again. All that remained after the storm of guilt had passed was this heavy sense of debt he had toward that stranger.

It wasn't a debt just because the guy had made Tony realize that the world was so unfair, it was hilarious. That the only way to still be sane was to learn to love the rain and find the humor, bitter as it sometimes may be, in everything he did. It was more than that, it was more than he could ever repay, because that kid hadn't known Tony, hadn't owed him anything and couldn't have expected him to reciprocate at any point. Yet he had still made Tony laugh.

Tony owed the guy a whole lot and had thought he would never meet the guy again. Tony had thought that the only way to repay the guy's actions was to make some kind of grand gesture in his ‘memory’.

But here the guy was, and Tony felt himself smile, gladdened by the opportunity to help the guy with something, anything. When the guy smiled back, as if he was conditioned to, perhaps without even realizing it, Tony made his decision.

It was as if all the puzzle pieces suddenly fit together and the image was easily understood. Tony might not ever be able to fully repay his debt, but he would do his damnedest to get this guy out of jail. No matter what he had done, no matter who paid, no matter how much deeper the hole Tony was digging for himself was going to be, he was going to get
him
out. To do anything else would be unacceptable.