He stood in the doorframe for a long time before he actually went in. Sierra was sitting cross-legged on the bed with her back to him, shoulders hunched over some drawing. Her hair, for once, was untangled and straight, hanging halfway down her back in an unbroken curtain. It was shorter than when he'd last seen it; still sort of long but the ends didn't look all gross anymore. How she could have sat through a whole hairdressing session with the enemy breathing down her falsely scarred neck, he did not know.

At lunch, when she had first laid eyes on him, her expression had changed in a matter of seconds from surprise to anger to hurt to what he could only describe as yearning before she settled her features into a perfect poker face. It was as if she'd managed to stop herself from caring in that short period of time. This made him feel... he didn't even know what he felt about that. An angry or hurt or yearning Sierra was something he could handle, but a Sierra that didn't care was new and unmanageable.

Max moved forwards so that he was able to see what she was drawing. It was weird, as usual, of an old woman clutching at her neck, with horrible monstrous things oozing between her fingers. He only got to see it for a second before Sierra snapped her sketchbook shut, yanked her earphones out and turned to glare up at him from behind un-smudged, glittery eye shadow.

"You could knock, you know," she said in a voice that was completely lacking any warmth.

Without answering, he sat across from her. Visibly, the muscles in her neck tensed.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"You said to put my stuff in the -"

"Because I wanted to know why it was you to come pick up Jumbo and Junior." She was no longer looking right into his eyes; but he could almost feel her gaze burning a hole in his collar. "Instead of someone else."

Astonished, he stumbled over his short answer. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You tell me."

"SiSi." She flinched at the use of the nickname that he'd started. "You're here is why. I missed you."

"How many girls have you slept with since I left, Max?"

Her words stabbed him, but he swallowed the bile in his throat. "Does it matter?"

"No. But I want to know."

"You don't need to."

She huffed out an annoyed sigh and looked away.

"I tried to become a soldier like you again," Max said.

"Do you have your results?" Her voice was the way it had been earlier: lacking any kind of emotion.

"Yeah. I'm still too volatile."

"Of course you are."

"You're no saint yourself!" he said angrily.

"Better than you, obviously."

Part of him wanted to punch her. He had never hit a girl but sometimes Sierra's attitude reminded him of every guy that had pissed him off. They had always been beaten to a pulp, and she annoyed him more than they did. Maybe walking away would be better... he thought, but somehow he was already kissing her, as usual.

Back in the living room, Ryan was spinning on a breakfast bar stool between the kitchen and the lounge. On one side of him, Caitlin was seething away, and on the other Charlie and Ryan were delightedly rifling through a huge DVD collection that people from the safehouse had rescued. The four of them had decided to watch a decent horror film and the boys were now deciding which one was the best. Caitlin seemed to be angry because the soldier, Max, had immediately volunteered to warn Sierra about what they were watching (because apparently she didn't like them or something) and had dashed out of the room before Caitlin had even opened her mouth to protest.

"Unbelievable," Caitlin said now.

It seemed that she was talking to Ryan. He kicked out his foot to stop the stool from spinning. "Does he... have a thing for her?"

"I don't know," she spat. Ryan couldn't help but marvel at how she was still beautiful with a face contorted with fury. He forced himself to listen while she briefly explained Sierra's relationship with Max. Really, what Caitlin needed to do was wear monster makeup or something to actually look normal and not have a face that was so distracting. He decided not to express this thought aloud. "... and she says she can handle it," Caitlin finished, giving Ryan a helpless look.

"Maybe she can," he said. "She seems pretty tough to me."

"You've never shared a room with her," she answered darkly.

"What do you mean?"

"She gets nightmares. More since we've left the safehouse." Caitlin looked over Ryan's shoulder at Ben. "Was Sierra alright the other night?" she called.

Ben, who was holding several DVD cases in each hand, looked up. "Huh?"

"When she was asleep," Caitlin prompted.

Colour rose in the boy's cheeks but he spoke calmly. "Well, she didn't move or talk or anything..."

"Yes, but did you look at her face?"

"Uh, was I supposed to?"

Rolling her eyes, Caitlin turned back to Ryan. "Well, she has nightmares. Trust me."

"Don't we all?" Caitlin's eyes flashed and he continued with haste. "What does having nightmares have anything to do with it, though?"

"He messes with her head!"

"Look, I wouldn't worry about it. You're overreacting."

He'd said too much. Caitlin glared at him and turned away. "You're as bad as her. And she and I aren't talking."

Ryan slid off his seat and walked around the kitchen bench. Hesitating for only a moment, he wrapped his arms around Caitlin, letting her share his calmness and press her face into his broad chest. They stood this way for a moment, an unbreakable being, before Charlie interrupted with a highly important question. "Saw, Psycho or Paranormal Activity?"

Immediately, Ryan and Caitlin let go of each other, but she smiled at him to show that she wasn't mad. Relieved, he moved to join Ben and Charlie. "Psycho," he said. "Vintage is classy and Hitchcock's a genius."

After two decent horror films, Caitlin's anger had ebbed somewhat. She detangled herself from Ryan's arm and headed back to the kitchen.

"Aw, Caitie, don't cook something. We can have freezer food." The use of her nickname coming from Ryan's mouth seemed odd, but she liked it.

Charlie, who had scored the best seat, stretched and spoke through a yawn. "You know what I feel like? Hot chips."

"I can do that," she said, pleased that they were asking for easy food.

"Did somebody say hot chips?"

Sierra had just entered the room, with Max trailing behind her. The circus makeup was gone and her hair was curling slightly. Max's cheeks were slightly red – the same colour that was starting to border Caitlin's vision. She forced herself to speak. "Yes. We're having them for dinner."

Sierra's expression was even more vacant than ever. "Spiffing," she said coldly.