Credit for Michele Walker goes straight to Panda8785. This has been an idea we've been sharing for a while, and I though I'd at least start writing this.

Wash was never really interested into delving into other peoples' problems, but this... he seemed to have troubles ignoring. On his way to his own room, hoping to heal after the whole "Him trying to take Epsilon, failing, and being taken in by the reds and blues" thing, he walked by an electric blue and black accented door. On a normal day, he'd ignore the silence of the other side of the door, but no one has seen the girl behind the door since they returned to Valhalla.

"Hey, Walker?" He knocked on the door, but there was no response. He attempted to turn the handle, but it was locked, "Hey, can you let me in?" There was no response. After a while he walked to the opposite wall and charged toward the door, removing the body of pine from it's hinges, "God dammit!" He cursed, holding his damaged appendages.

He looked up, still clutching his sides, to see cold, dead, blue and brown eyes staring at him. The owner of such empty eyes held half of a sandwich in her mouth as she had her bare feet on top of a miniature refrigerator and a rusty knife and polishing cloth was held in her hands. There was a pair of headphones around her neck, obvious that they had previously been resting on her head. She wore a sports bra and short shorts, showing off her more obvious scars (both new and old). He looked around the room, able to see the patches of dried up blood that look as if they had repeatedly been tried to have been scraped off.

"I...I'm sorry for intruding." He stood up, looking down at the now shattered door. She held out her hand, as if she wanted him to hand her something, "What?"

She set the knife down on the desk next to her and pulled the sandwich out of her mouth, revealing the giant gashes along her wrist, "You're going to have to pay for that." She growled under her breath as the dark circles under her eyes became more visible.

"Listen, I though you were dead." He protested as she kept her arm held out, "I'm not paying for an honest mistake."

"You're gonna have to." She sighed, "Unless you want me to take your door. I have some leftover paint in my closet." She motioned to the shattered sliding mirror door that somehow managed to stay attached to the wall.

"I'd rather you not." He grumbled under his breath.

"Then... you gotta pay me back."

"Um..." He examined to room once again, barely taking notice of the bloodied handprints that stained the wall, "I'm sorry... I don't quite have the money right now."

"Alright." She sighed, taking a blanket off her bed, "Pay me back when you can... now get out."

He gave off a spasm as he backed away to the other side of the door way. She stumbled to stand up, the blanket still in her hand as she opened the closet, revealing an array of old (about 21st century) power tools. She pulled out the nail gun and walked up to where the door once was, "You're not going to hurt me, are you?" His voice was shaky as she punched a nail through the corner of the blanket, attaching it to the top of the door way.

"Trust me, if I wanted to, I would've a long time ago." She growled as she held her free hand close.

"You alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She hissed as she punched one more nail and walked to the opposite side, punching one last nail through the blanket and into the wall.

"You sure?"

"Yes." She sighed, but kept the anger in her tone, "Just... go to your room and recover."

"... Alright." He finally gave in as he made his way to his own room.

Walker waited for a minute as finally heard the door down the hall close. She then looked at the nail drilled into her not so dominant hand, "Tch... that's not gonna do it either."