A/N- Part 7, people. Let's lock and load. Thanks to those who reviewed! This is officially my most reviewed story! Yay!

I want to point out that the shortness of this chapter is not due to planning. It's due to the fact that the last scene kinda stuck out like a sore thumb so I found a better place for it in the next chapter. Don't worry. It was kinda dull, anyway… As always, vega is my hero…R/R

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Jesse pulled open the tan wood bureau drawer. His hand wandered over the pile of clothes that had already been put away.

Their color and style were predictable: light beiges, whites, even a yellow here and there; sweaters, dress shirts, a few old, plain t-shirts. Each piece drastically contrasted the black bartender uniform he still wore.

The neatly folded jeans were in the next compartment. He'd found the old trench coats in the closet. They radiated the odor of dust and stale storage air.

He marveled in a way, the fact that they were still there in the same order he'd left them in. It felt like he was looking at a mini time capsule. He could even remember the moment he last looked at each.

"Hi."

He glanced towards the door out of the corner of his eye. Then he turned, leaning against the bureau, crossing his arms over his chest. "Hi," he answered quickly, board-line vindictive.

Emma smiled as she took one more step into the room. "How are you?"

"Good," he let himself say. Deep down in his chest, he burned to say more. He had so many questions to ask, so many things to say, but he waited. He waited for her to pour out her disappointments in him, to tell him off, to let him know how much he had ruined her life.

"Good," she nodded, looking around the bare room. "Good." Her gaze returned to his face. "Listen, I just wanted to tell you, I'm sorry for using my powers on you like that. I won't do it again, I swear."

He held his expression constant, eyeing her where she stood. "Okay."

"So…um…" she stuttered. "I haven't seen you in forever. What have you been up to?"

He shrugged. "Not a lot."

In silence, she stared at him expectantly, but he neither spoke nor moved. He stood defensively, arms across his chest like a barrier, just waiting, anticipating all the malicious words to spout.

"You know, it's hard to have a conversation with only monosyllable answers," her voice blurted out belligerently. She paused, taking in a breath. "Listen, Jess, I know you feel caged here and I know you feel like no one wants you here, but having an attitude isn't going to help things."

"Stay out of my head, Emma."

"I didn't have to go into your head, Jesse. I have eyes and ears and human intuition," she shot back. "And I guess it didn't help that she left."

Jesse looked away from her, hiding his suddenly hurt face. He wished the thoughts out of his heads, trying to ignore her words.

"Adam took her back in the Helix ten minutes ago." she pressed. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

"What's to tell?" he answered softly. "What woman likes to be lied to?" His eyes lowered to the floor. A soft chuckle rose from his throat and a small smile flickered on his lips. "You know what's funny? She's the only thing that's kept me sane over the past year, and it's only because she has more problems than I do. Kerry Parcell: a dark, gorgeous, dangerous, emotional mess." he paused, the smile quickly extinguished. "It's ironic how when I need her, she breaks it off. I guess I should have expected it though, Kerry's never been very good at the 'give' side of a relationship."

"If I recall correctly," Emma replied, "you were never good at the 'take' side."

"Yeah," Jesse answered. "I guess I just feel like I'm behind enemy lines. There's no one in my corner, so to speak."

"What about me?"

He met her stare and replied sardonically, "You mean Shalimar hasn't tainted your mind, yet."

Her face tightened into a stern, unpleased expression. "Nobody taints my mind but me, Jesse. I have no reason not to be the friend I always was to you, even if Shal or Brennan think differently."

"Good to know." He smiled as a strange comfort came over him. In that instant, he suddenly reflected over what he had told her, and grinned larger. "How do you always get me to tell you exactly what I feel?"

Emma reciprocated his smile with a playful shrug. "It's a gift."

* - Break - *

Kerry had walked down the solitary back road before. Between school and work, the path had been permanently etched into her brain. The broken window of the old furniture warehouse, the white spray painted gang symbol on the long forgotten trashcan, the tattered green wool blanket left by a vagabond just passing through -- each had its own homey quality that only she could feel.

Her arms bundled her coat around her tighter. The evening chill was beginning to puncture the angry warmth that flowed under her skin. The fight still had had her blood searing and her mind buzzing, but slowly, second by second, she could feel the winter breeze cooling the boil to a simmer and the tiredness of the previous night's worried insomnia setting in. Now she just wished to return to her home and sleep away the bad hand life had dealt her.

Passing the boarded up door that served as the buildings decoy entrance, she turned the corner into the small alleyway between the abandoned apartment building and her warehouse. Approaching the half ajar steel door, her throat released a scoff. If someone was going to kidnap you, the least they could do was to shut the door behind them.

But then again, what had she expected?

Her hand slid over the metal, pushing the door open farther, when a glint of gold caught her eye.

The rotting wooden door, not five feet away, closed off the back alleyway her mother had always joked was their yard. The former matron of the house had decided to padlock the pavement garden to keep bums away from their back door. That rusted lock now hung open on its golden hook, dangling helplessly.

With an almost animalistic quickness, she grabbed the small metal lock and scanned it over. There were no marks, no scratches.

Throwing it aside, she violently pushed passed the gate into the small back alley, barely big enough to store a car. All the fire escapes were up, trashcans fully upright.

Each weed was even in its place…

 But the door, the back door marked 'Authorized Personnel Only', stood barely open, gaping only enough to send a cold shiver up her spine.

Her movements turned suddenly cautious from a new elicited fear. Slowly, she crept to the door, carefully pulled the rusty doorknob to her. Her eye grew wide.

The hallway was destroyed. Her two small tables had been smashed to splinters.

Pictures frames torn apart, glass scattered all over the floor. Dirt from her small potted flower, the only one she'd managed to keep alive, mingled with the shards while the plant itself was brutally ripped apart, laying in its cold bitter death over the table remains.

"What the hell?" Kerry whispered tiptoeing through the hallway.

To her left, through the kitchen doorway, she could see the contents of her fridge splattered all over the floor. Dirty pots and pans scattered over the counters and on the linoleum. The metal legs had been bent on the bottoms of her chairs and the circular table knocked over in the fray.

She turned left and into her bedroom. The drawers had been pulled out of their slots, clothes ripped to rags. Her two bedside tables met the same fate as her hallway stands. Candle wax crumbled in bits along the concrete floor, below splashes of colors on the smooth wood walls.

Only the bed remained unscathed. She breathes a sigh of relief. It appeared as a lull in the storm of her belongings. Among the calculated and cruelly destroyed mess, it was calm and majestic.

Her eyes spotted the blemish of white on the blue sheets immediately. She rushed to pick up the piece of even paper, forgetting her slow pace.

Her skin grew cold.

'Dead men tell no tales,

          Neither do dead Mutants.

            - Ember'