Dad, Mom, Uncle Abe, Manning, and Trevor all sat around the small table in conference room one. Dad had his left arm around Mom, holding her protectively by his side. "When did it happen?" he asked, his voice void of emotion.

"Just after her high school graduation," Uncle Abe said softly. "At a party; she had been with some friends, but they left without her. Andrew offered her a ride home, but she declined, because she knew that she shouldn't let him know where she actually lived, and she didn't want to go back to her friend's house because she was upset with them."

Mom made a sound, a strange, mangled mix between a hiccup and a gag, as she covered her mouth. "I shouldn't have let her go," she said through her fingers.

Dad gently rubbed her cheek with the back of his stone finger. "It's okay, you couldn't have known." He turned his attention back to Abe. "What happened to him?" he asked, venom dripping from the sentence's subject.

Trevor stood up from his seat and walked over onto the other side of our mother. "She killed him; she lost control of her fire, and his whole car went up in flames. After that, she said that she walked back here, and snuck in and into her room." Trevor took Mom's left hand in both of his and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Blair's going to be okay; talking with Uncle Abe really helped. After their talk, she went to her room and went to sleep without any medication."

Mom nodded as Uncle Abe spoke. "She has taken a big step today. Red, Liz." Once the couple had looked up at him, he continued. "What's most important now is that we all help her and support her. Now that this is all out in the open, we can all begin healing."

Dad nodded as Mom relaxed a little, leaning into him. "I still don't understand the cutting though," he said, looking to his blue counterpart for an answer.

Uncle Abe sighed with a slight shrug. "She wouldn't say, but I get the feeling from her that it was how she kept control of her thoughts. Every time she thought about it, she would cause herself pain; it was a negative reinforcement system."

Manning finally made his presence known by clearing his throat and standing. "As much as I hate this whole situation, we have work to do." Everyone directed their attention to Manning as he opened a manila envelope which sat before him on the table. "Our next assignment is up in Maine, where there have been 'vampire' attacks." Manning did the in air quotations with his fingers. "The local authorities seemed to think it was just local teenagers playing pranks, wanting to be vampires, but just goofing around. Then, a week ago, three bodies turned up, dried of blood. We'll be sending in agents to try to infiltrate the local 'vampire' club scene, try to see if there are any connections."

Mom looked up at Manning. "I don't think I should go; I want to stay here and make sure Blair is going to be ok."

Manning sighed, and ran a hand down his face. "Liz, we need agents that can be in public. If you're so damn worried about the kid, take her with you."

"Okay."

Everyone's eyes turned toward the door; I stood there in my pajamas, Dad's blanket wrapped around my shoulders. Dad began shaking his head, and opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "No Dad. I want to help. I know that I haven't been…the best of anything lately. But…" I stopped, unwrapping the blanket from my shoulders. I folded it over my arms, which were bare, my many cuts and scars catching the lights. Mom closed her eyes when she caught sight of them. "I want to be better…I want to get better."

I had to do something to make this up to all of them. What better way than to help them in the BPRD field work? Trevor stood up from his place beside Mom and came over to me, slapping me gently on the back (although the 'gentleness' wasn't very evident on my part.) " 'Bout time you started using your brain, Pipsqueak."

He gave me an impish grin as Mom came over to us. "Are you sure, Blair? I mean, you're not even a qualified agent, and…" she paused, smoothing back some of my messy black hair. "I don't think you should go."

I opened my mouth to protest when Manning spoke. "It'll be easier for her to blend in."

Mom and Dad both looked at Manning with sarcastically inquisitive looks; it was times like these when you could really tell how much they hated the man. Manning held up his hands as if that would stop the onslaught of glances. "What? If she's not trained as an agent, she won't have to worry about trying to not act like one while in the field."

Dad held his stone hand up to Manning. What if she gets into trouble?" He gestured to me with a sideway's nod. "She doesn't know how to defend herself."

Manning looked at my father as if to say, "You really are stupid, aren't you?" He then held up his right hand, palm up, and waved his left hand over and around it in what I'm sure he thought was an impressive, mythical looking way. I smiled despite myself, thankful for Manning's comedic way of going to bat for me. I could tell from the look on my Dad's face that the argument was over (because if he continued, he would end up finally killing Manning, like had always wanted to.) I was going to Maine to help my family. I was finally going to start making things good with them.