Who We are Meant to Be

1- We All Fall Down

Disclaimer- None of the original story or characters are mine. Only my changes, Mia, and Dietrich belong to me. Also- cross posted on AO3 and FF.net

Sort of a fix it, but also a continuation- the original is so moving and impactful, I've been afraid to touch it. This doesn't mean that I think this fic is anything compared to the writing of the film or the deep emotional impact, it is my way of finding closure with the events of the story (as the sequel has been stalled out for quite some time; if anyone has any new info I'd love to hear it). I have read some amazing 'sequel' stories on AO3 and have finally given in to writing my own.

With this in mind, be kind. I used to write frequently but have not had the opportunity in recent years. If there are errors, please point them out politely and take note if someone else has already pointed out the error so as to avoid repetition. Also- I am in no way German (except maybe a number of generations back) and as such have no idea how the German police force works outside of my own meager research. If you notice inconsistencies, please point them out.

For context- this will begin between the party/key return scene and Marc finding the empty apartment.

Kay

I understand the struggle Marc has, with his new family and not wanting to lose them, but he seems to be letting me go in the process. There has to be a better solution, one where everyone is okay in the end. Right?

I went home after the party. I didn't want to cause more dissonance in Marc's family. In that aspect I was lucky- my family was understanding that I wasn't the same as everyone else and my parents taught my sister and me to fight for what we want. That is what I intended to do.

It was dark out by the time I got home. Too many memories were floating around that dark apartment, floating around and making the urge to avoid them strong. I had no idea where we stood anymore, and it was a frightening feeling.

Suddenly I was blindsided. A hit to my temple had me down on the rough concrete, scraping my hands and knees as I tried to catch myself. Before I could bounce back up, another blow landed, this time on my exposed midsection. This had me careening to the side and I knew there would be some major bruising if not sprained or broken bones. More blows kept coming, some falling on my already sore ribs, others on my back, and still more on my arms that tried to protect anything vital. Punches and kicks kept coming and I found my own limbs not responding. No matter how hard I tried, I could not get my body to respond or fight back.

I could only tell that it was one person, no idea as to whom. They had only gotten me down because of the surprise factor. They were quick enough to keep me down. Clearly they were of similar strength and seemed to have combat training similar to mine if the direction, strength, and technique of the blows was anything to go by. All of this came to my mind after the fact of course, as one final blow had me unconscious, still on the ground outside of my apartment building.

I must have returned to consciousness not too long after- not that I had known the time, to begin with. It was still dark and I didn't see any bystanders or hear any sirens to tell me that someone had called an ambulance for a man passed out and obviously beaten on the ground. The last thing I remembered at the time was seeing floppy dark hair and a seemingly familiar large nose. Add that to the other information I had subconsciously gathered and I had a pretty good idea of whom and what had happened. There was a splitting pain in my head and all over my body, there was pain. Slowly I rose, making my way carefully and painfully upstairs.

Once I had rested and treated some of the lesions I had a couple of choices before me. Report him and face backlash from a lot of different angles. Don't report him and it would probably keep happening.