Disclaimer : I own only Ilehana. Blaze belongs to Lamby.

A/N : This is the direct sequel to Lamby's 'Open Your Eyes' and Corrinth's last piece of work. It has taken months to write and much courage, or possibly stupidity, to decide to share it with anyone.

SHADOWS, CHAPTER THREE.

If Charles had been concerned by his daughter's appearance the previous day, the lack of interest she showed in her appearance and appetite positively frightened him. Never had he known Ilehana to appear so dishevelled, as if she hadn't bothered even to glance in the mirror. What wolf-law had she once quoted to him? Something about washing daily from head to foot and not appearing unkempt. He couldn't remember the details. Yet here she sat opposite him, barely even picking at a full English breakfast – bacon, sausages, black pudding, mushrooms, hash browns, toast, scrambled eggs – looking as if she had just been pulled through a hedge backwards instead of climbing out of bed. The bottle of barbeque sauce that Moira had thoughtfully added to the table knowing her friend's love for it sat as untouched as the rest of Ilehana's breakfast. The only thing the Vixen showed any enthusiasm for was the coffee, which she drank three mugs of, very sweet and as black as night.

"I'm sorry." Charles offered softly when his only blood child had made her excuses and left the table.

"Not to worry, Charles." Moira replied with a reassuring smile. "She doesn't seem herself at all, does she?"

"Not at all." Concern ate at Xavier, what had happened to turn his daughter into nothing more than a shadow of her former self?

The grey wolf stood atop a grassy mound overlooking the wild, grey sea. Waves crashed upon the shore below her, water surging angrily back and forth as if the observer had deeply offended it simply by being there. Vixen stared out at the horizon, watching a flock of gulls in a V-formation. Their flight was as straight as an arrow, veering aside for nothing and no-one. Ilehana wished her life could be like that, simple and easy. Instead of being torn between so many commitments in her life – her father, Logan, her friends, her students, her research, the X-Men – as Vixen closed her eyes, she tried to remember the last time she had managed to snatch as much as a moment for herself and herself alone… but not a single instant in time sprang to mind.

Now that her anger was gone, Ilehana felt great swathes of guilt. Clearly, she had let Blaze down very badly, the fire-elemental couldn't have made that any clearer. But part of her was still frustrated by the whole situation – Blaze was one of her closest friends, knew Ilehana as well as anyone, knew her single-mindedness better than most. Why hadn't she simply told her the problem, given the Vixen no choice but to deal with it? The wolf shook her head, eyes still closed.

(How long have you been ill, Ilehana?)

In a moments lapse in concentration, Ilehana had let her barriers slip. Her father had managed to get past them to find the true source of the Vixen's weakness. Her instinctive reaction was denial, to draw away from his reaching – but the effort was too much and too futile to do so. (Long enough,) She answered bluntly, (long enough for me to not remember what being well feels like.)

(And you didn't think to tell me?) She felt his feeling of failure, the sense that he had let her down in some way so that she now did not trust him. (You know I would never…)

(I know.) She didn't need him to say the words, to tell her that he would never have called her out here if he had known, would never have sent her on that recon. mission three months ago if he had known she was ill. (Why do you think I didn't tell you?)

(I had thought that you might trust me…)

(My trust in you has never faltered. My pride is another matter. I could not bear to admit that my strength is less than perfect. My mind and body failed me when I needed them most…) She trailed off for a moment, then suddenly burst out (Dad, I'm so tired, and now Blaze is gone and it's all my fault…)

It was a child's plea for help, a terrified cry in the empty darkness, and Charles could almost feel the tears of shame, desperation, loneliness and self-loathing than issued forth from a wolf's eyes. Hot tears whipped away by the wind leaving only salt that stung the Vixen as she berated herself afresh for failing her friend. Instinct made him reach out and wrap her in a blanket of his love and support, and for the shortest time she accepted it, revelled in it, before pushing him away – as he had known all along that she would – to bury herself within her shell and punishing herself for her own misgivings and mistakes.

(Ilehana…) He begged her to let him back in, but her telepathic back was turned and she either would not or could not face him again.