V: The Series Fan Fiction
 
 
"Postscripts"
 
"Like Father, Like... "
by VJ Wurth and Narrelle Harris
 
 
A group of boys stood a respectful distance from the solid eight year old with dark hair.  Joe Taliotti was new to the school, had been there just a week, but he had soon asserted his natural dominance.  He had always been the biggest, strongest, fastest, and meanest of his age group, and at this particular Seattle primary school he had usurped Colin Bryant as the class bully with ease.  Now he was looking about for some new way to demonstrate his prowess, and had espied the lone figure sitting beneath the sprawling oak tree in the yard.  David Tyler, a lim light-boned boy from his class.  Bookworm.  Wimp.

"Look at him, will ya?" sneered Joe with disgust.  "Little punk.  Thinks he's just it.  Teacher's flaming pet is what he is.  I'm going to teach him a thing or two."

Young Tommy's eyes widened with alarm.  "Hey, Joe, you don't want to mess with him.  Honest."

The taller boy glared down at the pale Tommy.  "What's the matter -- chicken?"

"Hell, no, Joe... but... "

"What's the little worm gonna do -- hurt me?"  Laughing, Joe stalked across the playground to confront the solemn boy, busily reading a young reader's edition of 'Pinnochio' in the shade.  Tommy and the other kids followed less confidently, shaking their heads.  Boy was this kid going to be sorry.

"Hey, squirt."  Joe stood, hands on hips and legs braced apart, before the small lad.  David Tyler glanced up.

"Can I help you?"

Joe bared his teeth in a mean grin.  "You could say that.  I want your book."

"But I haven't finished it yet.  I'll give it to you tomorrow."

"But I want it now."  And the class bully knocked it to the ground.  David looked at him, a little puzzled.

"What did you do that for?"

Joe didn't answer -- he shoved David roughly and the boy tumbled backwards off the bench.  David landed jarringly on his shoulder, but curled around the fall and rolled back onto his feet.

"Neat trick, wimp."  Joe didn't let on that the kid's agility had surprised him.  "See what you do with this one."

"I wouldn't..." warned Tommy, a little more urgently.

"Shaddup, you girl."  Joe was getting fed up with the wet crowd he'd been hanging out with.  This little twerp might be fast, but he still wasn't going to be good enough to get away from Tough Joe Taliotti.  Bunching his hands into fists, he threw a punch at David, who, surprised as he was at the unwarranted attack, still managed to duck.  Joe, who had been taught boxing by his father, however, followed with a rapid left to the stomach and David folded up over the fist.  Joe grinned.  "Come on, wimp, can't you take it?"

"Joe, I think you'd better leave it, or you're gonna be in real trouble."  Tommy and the others were backing away a little.  Joe scowled at them.

"What is this guy gonna do to me, huh?  Why you all so scared of him?"

"Not him," Tommy corrected, "his sister."

"His sister?"  Joe was disgusted.  "Jeez, what a bunch of... "

"Hi David.  Got a problem?"

David looked up and smiled.  He picked himself up from the dirt, still a bit winded.  "I'm okay."

CT frowned.  "You don't look it."

Joe stared in disbelief at the athletically but solidly built girl, about two years his senior, who stood surveying the scene with a critical eye.  As David started to step clear, he reached out and pushed him down again.  David stumbled against the bench and fell heavily onto his side.

"Jeeeezus Christ!" he muttered as the wind was knocked out of him for a second time.

Joe barely knew what hit him, but his erstwhile friends shook their heads.  They'd warned him, but if he was too stupid to listen, it was his problem.  Even Colin Bryant had learned the golden rule early on -- whatever else you do, don't touch the Tyler kids.  CT could cream any kid on any block in Seattle.  And if you picked on David, you dealt with her.
 
 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *
 
 
Christine Tyler sat in the corner of the Principal's office, scowling.  She was perched on a chair too large for her, and she swung her legs back and forth in sharp angry movements.  The sleeve of her dress was torn and on the collar there was some blood.  Her hair sprang in all directions, her face was grimy and she had a black eye.

Opposite her sat David, solemn as every, nursing a bruised hip.  The staff had found it more expedient to put Joe Taliotti in another room to wait before his father collected him.  The Tyler girl, apparently, scared him.

Mr. Reading, the principal, glared sharply at her and she glared right back before dropping her ferocious gaze to the ground.

There was a quiet tapping on the door and a secretary announced that someone was here about young Christine.

Reading's expression of disapproval as Tash Petersen entered the office was not missed, but the woman chose to ignore it.

"Where is Mr. Tyler?" asked Reading primly.  "I would have expected him to take care of his own daughter."

"Mr. Tyler," responded Tash evenly, "is in Quebec on business."

"And Mrs. Tyler is with him?"

"Dr. Bailey-Tyler," she correctly, "has her hands full of horse intestines at the moment.  You don't expect her to come out in the middle of a very delicate operation, do you?"  Tash handed over a note.  "This is their authorization to leave CT and David in my care."

In her chair, CT smiled slyly.   Mr. Reading didn't scare Tash.  Didn't scare her either.  She slid off the seat and padded over to stand by her father's employee.  She indicated for David to follow and he limped over beside her.

Tash glanced down at the dishevelled pair and a small sigh escaped her.

"Miss Tyler," Reading began.

"Ms," CT muttered.

"Was found brawling in the school yard with a young boy... "

"He hurt David," the girl protested.  "Look, he's all bruised."

"You should have reported it to a teacher, young lady!  It is not done to brawl with boys in the playground."

"But... !"  The child was silenced by Tash's firm hand on her shoulder.

"If there are any more incidents of this nature," the man said with great restraint, "You may inform Mr. and Mrs. Tyler..."

"That's Doctor Bailey-Tyler," Tash said it with such cold firmness that Reading stopped himself.

"Mr. and Dr. Tyler," he compromised, "That their daughter will be expelled from this school."

"I'll tell them," she said, and taking CT by one hand and David by the other, left the room.

"We showed 'em, didn't we Tash?" CT announced cockily as they emerged from the building.  Petersen's glance was quelling and the child wilted.

"Your father won't be pleased if you get expelled," Tash told her as they went out to the BMW in the lot.  It was Tyler's transport, on loan for a few days.

"But he was beating up on David!" CT protested once more.

"Yeah -- see?" David concurred, pulling up his shirt to reveal gravel rash and part of the hip bruise.  He pulled a tragic face.

"I don't let anyone pick on David," and to prove it she hugged him crushingly until he struggled to escape.  Tash opened the back door and the children climbed into the back seat of their father's navy blue, bullet-proof, souped-up BMW-styled transport.  Petersen paused, looking in at CT who was bouncing on the seat and encouraging David to do the same.

"You're a mess," Tash observed.

CT grinned.  "You should see the other guy!" she quipped, and laughed.

Tash shook her head and went around to the driver's seat, hiding a smile.  That girl was definitely her father's daughter.
 

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