Title: One Way Street
Disclaimer: Warehouse 13 belongs to Jack Kenny and David Simkins.
A/N: These drabbles won't always be in chronological order.
A/N 2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

She wanted to slam open the door as she came in, stomp, around, and fling her back pack to the ground. But Leena knew she wasn't allowed to do any of that. This might be her home but it was also a place of business and that was something that had been drilled into her since she was old enough to remember. Before she was even old enough to understand the constant feeling of wanting to help the people who came into the B&B, of needing to fix them. To do anything possible to make them happy again.

So, it didn't matter that Aaron had completely blown off that agreement to meet her at the library and work on their history project together although she knew how important it was to Leena. How she needed to do a good job on this to keep her grade average up. How- how much she had just been looking forward to just spending time with her, just talking and goofing around.

And Aaron acted like it meant nothing. Like it was just some little thing she forgot.

But none of that meant she could yell, scream, stomp, slam doors, and throw things like she wanted to. She wanted to do anything really to get her frustration out. But that's not how her family was.

Instead she closed the door calmly behind her, and walked quietly into the kitchen where her Mom was preparing dinner.

"Leena!" her Mom's head turned a soon as she entered but she never stopped chopping vegetables. "What's wrong? You're blazing honey."

Leena sighed, rolled her eyes, and dropped her back pack in the corner – the only real outside signs of rebellion she allowed herself. It didn't matter what she did anyway, any outward signs were really superfluous for them, and it's not like she could hide what she was feeling from her family even if she wanted to.

"I'll deal with this," her grandmother who had been sitting at the counter said pushing her stool out, with that horrible noise it always made as it screeched across the floor. "You mind the soup."

"Mother," her own mom narrowed her eyes warningly.

"Mind the soup," she repeated. And Leena allowed her Grandma to grab her arm and lead her into the living room area, there were no guest occupying it at the moment.

Her grandmother took her time to settle herself on the couch and by now any of Leena's initial anger she still had when she got home had already moved into melancholy.

"Leena, baby," Grandma started abruptly and Leena jumped a bit, she had been so wrapped up in, what now seemed to be, her own silly teenage angst. "There is one thing ya gotta understand. One thing I want ya ta learn from me even if ya learn nothin' else ya gotta learn this, hear?" she paused, squinting at her for a moment to make sure she was really paying attention. "No one is ever gonna understand ya," she said bluntly.

"Mother!" her own mom said in a scandalized tone, having come to stand in the doorway. "Don't tell her that," she scolded, "she's upset enough as it is. You know that, you know how hard it was for us, especially at school with-"

"Hush, Sherry," her Grandma snapped back. "That's why I know wha' I'm sayin'. Just mind the soup."

"I'm Shannon," she mumbled but left again to do as she was told.

"As I was sayin'," Grandma continued with a belabored sigh, "no one is ever gonna understand ya'. Ever. So it's just best to get that nonsense out of your head right now."

"But-" she started. She had friends, good friends, sure they didn't always get along but she knew that they...

"No buts about it Leena, baby," she smiled gently. "Were different. Ya know that. Ya know that you feel that pull towards people. That ya can feel them – what they are, what their feelin, what they need."

She nodded blankly.

"What ya got to remember," her Grandma continued, "is that that ain't a two way street. Not everyone is like us, honey. They're not feelin' ya – all they're gettin' from ya is what their eyes and ears are tellin' them. Nothin' else.You can't fault 'em for that."

"I-I know," Leena said quietly looking down at her hands.

Her grandmother placed her wrinkled hands on top of hers. "But it's hard to remember all that time, hard to remember that they're not really seein' you like you're seein' them. Ain't it, baby?"

"Yeah," she whispered leaning against the shoulder that smelt like cinnamon and flipping her hand over and intertwining their fingers, instantly feeling the steady connection of warmth and comfort that always flowed through all of her family, "it is."