Disclaimer: None of this is mine. It's all the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The characters are mine, mostly. Actually, I don't think I've ever seen any of these characters anywhere in the universe or in Fandom, so I guess the characters kinda are mine.

Chapter 6:

"Stop." The voice, just barely over a murmur roused Élodie from her sleep in the next room. She and her twin had moved into Adèle's room, freeing up their room for their mysterious houseguest. It was tight, but Élodie was close to her sisters, probably due to the closeness in their ages. She had, surprisingly, not heard Maria enter that night, apparently the woman was being careful not to attract any attention.

"No more." The voice was almost pleading in nature. Not the harsh, brutal sound she'd heard from her earlier this afternoon. She listened intently for any signs that her sisters on either side of her had awoken, but she heard nothing. No change in the tempo of their breathing, no rustling of the covers that suggested they were stirring.

She gently pushed herself to a seated position, allowing her feet to step to the cold floor in the narrow space between her bed and Genevieve's. It had taken her a little while to get the geography of her new room figured out, but now she could make her way around it quite confidently. She gently walked along the edge of her bed, placing her feet carefully as not to make any noise. Her right hand slid smoothly to the foot of the bed. From the bottom left corner, she knew, she had only to stretch both arms out from her body, keeping one hand on her bed, and she could just touch the bedroom door. She rested her fingertips on the wooden surface of the door, using it as a reference point, then stepped forward until she stood a few inches from it.

The door opened silently, and she slid into the living room, feeling the slightly cooler air against her skin. She shivered, suddenly wishing she was wearing more than a flimsy nightgown. That was one of the advantages of sharing a confined space with two other people: it was always nice and warm inside.

Five paces from here to my room, her mind dutifully informed her, in spite of the fact that it wasn't her room anymore. She counted off the paces, knowing that she would come to rest centered in front of her ex-bedroom's door. Reaching out, she gripped the cool metal doorknob, softly pushing the door open. She slid gently into the room, closing it behind her.

It was only after the door closed that she realized that she no longer knew how this room was laid out, largely because her right side was now pressed against what felt like a dresser which hadn't been there before. It had been on the opposite side of the room, next to one of their beds. When she and Geenie (Élodie's nickname for her twin) had been in this room, Élodie had practically been able to run around this room full tilt without running into anything. Now she barely knew which direction was up, and her cane was folded under her pillow.

Great foresight, dumbass, Élodie admonished herself.

Maria was still murmuring. Whatever she was going on about, there was a vulnerability in her voice that she'd never shown before. More importantly, for the moment, it gave Élodie a direction to move in. She gently folded her left arm across her chest and stretched her right out in front of her, her fingers splayed as she gently slid her bare right foot along the carpet in the direction of Maria's voice, ensuring the few feet in front of her were devoid of obstacles.

"No more, please. I won't tell anyone."

The toes of Élodie's right foot bumped hard into something and it was only through remarkable self-control that she was able to prevent herself from yelping in pain. Gently crouching down, she felt the object, identifying it as the small chesterfield that had stood about six feet to the left of its current position. A gentle search revealed Maria's form, curled up under a thin blanket.

"Maria, wake up," Élodie hissed, gently shaking the woman out of her slumber.

Under her fingertips, Élodie felt Maria's shoulders tense up as, gripped by whatever terrors danced behind her eyelids, she drove a fist directly at the creature which was attempting to shake her out of them.

Half awake, Maria's blow was clumsy and projected. Élodie could have dodged it with half the time to react that she did. She smoothly snapped her head to the left, gently guiding the fist past her right ear with her left hand. With her right, she drove a punch hard into the cluster of nerves under Maria's armpit, causing the woman to recoil from the blow.

"Who are you? What do you…" Maria's voice was panicked, frantic as she sat up.

"It's me."

There was a moment of silence before Maria spoke again, "you're the blind one, aren't you?"

Élodie frowned, her voice developing a hard edge, "I'm Élodie, and I happen to be blind."

"Jeez, sorry. Didn't know that was a sore point for you."

"And how's our death-row inmate feeling this morning?"

"Okay, I see your point. Down, girl." She heard the young woman flop back on the couch

"You wanna talk about it?" Élodie sat down at Maria's feet.

"What?" Maria's voice became defensive, Élodie could hear her pulling the blanket up tightly under her chin.

"Well, whatever it was that made you try to knock the head off of a 12-year-old blind girl's shoulders." Élodie leaned closer, "and while we're on the subject, how about what made you throw a 12-year-old blind girl across the living room?"

"You don't want to go down this road, kid."

"Maybe not. But when I get bruises, I like to know why I got 'em."

"You can't see anything at all? No bright lights, no motion, nothing?"

Élodie shook her head, "nope."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Anything. How do you take a shower in the morning? How did you block my punch just now? How do you function?"

"I wasn't given a choice in the matter. I accept that I'll never see a sunrise, or a rainbow, or a cloud. If I ever get married the guy could be a butt-ugly troll and I'll never know about it. I'll never watch a movie, I don't know what's happening on TV. But that's just the way it is. I can't see, and that's never gonna change. So I keep going."

Maria was silent, as if digesting this for a moment. "You're sure you're only twelve?"

"Yeah, why?"

"'cause you sound a lot older than a lot of people I've known."

"Well, death row may not be the best place to look for the gems of society."

"Touché."

"So, you wanna talk about it?"

"Why so eager to hear my problems?"

"I've got eyes that don't work. Might as well see what my ears can do."

Maria was again silent, breathing deeply "You'd better go."

"Avoiding the subject?"

"No, I just don't think your mother would approve of you talking to me."

"I think my mom would approve of my helping someone who needed my help." Élodie smiled. Maria could only just make it out in the darkness of the room. In about five years, the kid would be breaking hearts wide open; that was for sure.

"Let's jut say that we both have to accept something that's never gonna change." Maria told her. Élodie was certain she could hear a note of sadness creeping into the woman's voice, "will that be enough of an explanation for now?"

Élodie nodded, "for now. Someday I'd like to hear the whole story."

"Someday, maybe. It's not a happy story."

"If it were, it wouldn't be so hard for you to tell it." Élodie stood, turning towards the door.

"Élodie," Maria called out.

"Yeah?" Élodie didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry." Maria seemed to be forcing the words out, "about yesterday, I'm sorry."

"Tell you what: someday, you tell me what happened to push you to the point where you'd beat up on a twelve-year old and we'll call it even."

Maria smiled, "deal."