Randall woke for the third time in the small, human bed. The first thing that he noticed was that he didn't feel disoriented this time. He remembered exactly where he was, even though he still didn't like it. The human, Faye was her name, must be nearby. He once again noted the sound of purring. It was coming from the very warm spot on the chair next to the bed. She said it was a cat. The creature looked at him when he raised his head, then bolted out the open door without warning. Yep, that's a cat alright. Randall chuckled, amused that some things never seemed to change. He also noted music coming from somewhere else in the house. It sounded very much like the jazz that he had heard back in the monster world.

Jazz? There's no way these dumb animals invented jazz music. They had to have stolen it from the Monster World. But how? For a moment, he questioned if there had been humans in the monster world before Sullivan had stolen the child. No way, there would have been a record of it somewhere. Someone would have noticed. Randall pushed the question to the back of his mind for later, and looked towards the door. His next thought was to get to a mirror. The image that he had seen the other day in the zoo bathroom still haunted him.

He lifted himself gingerly from the bed, remembering the state he had been in before he fell asleep. A sudden memory of Shadow's warmth against him flashed across his mind. He shook his head and told himself to forget it. She was a stinking human, not a female monster. Randall suddenly felt that he didn't want the creature to know that he was awake yet. He blended himself, then remembered that his legs were covered in bandages. But these creatures don't notice things above them, like when I was in the city. The ceiling, it's perfect. He smiled to himself and, happy with his plan, he went to the doorway and observed.

He could smell her scent everywhere, mixed with the smells of the strange, scented smoke and the other animals in the house, but she was not within eyesight or heat sense. The floor was still barely warm from where her bare feet had touched maybe a few minutes ago. The prints led into the room half-way down the hallway from him. That door was open too. He had to pass that door to get to the bathroom, so he climbed the wall and looked into the room while upside-down. He saw the human, her black hair held behind her head, and a multicolored garment hanging loosely around her shoulders. She was perched on a stool in front of an easel and had a hot beverage of some sort in her hand. He watched her take a sip of it while staring at whatever was on the easel. He couldn't read her expression from this distance, but he guessed that she was studying the image before continuing her work. Good. She'll be busy for a while. He caught himself wandering if she was working on something similar to her work at the zoo. Why do you suddenly care about human things? He addressed himself in an accusing tone.

He stayed blended, and kept moving toward the bathroom. He noted with a little pride that even though he wasn't healed from his injuries yet, he could already move silently again. He de-blended when he reached the bathroom and very carefully closed the door. Silent again. Perfect. He saw the mirror, and suddenly felt a sense of dread at the thought of seeing himself. He took a deep breath and brought himself close enough to get all the details he wanted.

He had been prepared for something less than beautiful, but the site still made his heart sink. He looked like a stranger. He looked pitiful. He looked like a monster that Randall would have no patience or pity for. Where did all your strength go? He asked himself. He put that though away to assess the damage.

The injury to his head was obvious. The cut over his eye from the shovel was still angry, and red, but it looked clean, and the stitches were holding well. The other side was swollen and a horrid shade of greenish-purple that meant he was bruised and would be from some time. Did the car do that? Or the sidewalk? It was clear he had been hit very hard. Duh! I got hit by a car! I had a concussion. No wonder Shadow was surprised when I got up yesterday! I can't believe I tried to move before my brain had time to heal. What was I thinking? Then he reminded himself that he wasn't thinking, that he had been concussed, and was thinking food. He looked back at the damage. Luckily, the bruising was towards the back of his head, and had not affected his other eye. He could see clearly through both of them now, or as clearly as he ever could.

His fronds weren't as pitiful as they had been. They still drooped a bit, but the color was coming back. He tentatively ran his fingers over them, prepared for pain from the touch. It did hurt, but not enough that he couldn't ignore it, and he felt himself relax from the gesture, just a little. What still bothered him most was his expression. He saw that his eyes had a forlorn look to them, and his scales had completely lost their luster. I look like a monster that lost everything. The look angered him. Yes he had lost everything, but he hadn't given up. This pitiful monster before his eyes would not make the cut. He was better than that. He resolved to have a more determined expression the next time he saw himself.

The rest of his body was a series of cuts and bruises all the way to his tail. One side was sore to the touch from the car, but no bones had been harmed. And he noticed that the bandages on his legs had dwindled in number. The shallow scrapes had healed over, and the smaller cuts had been given stick-on bandages in place of the cloth ones. It looks like I'm on the mend, but I should definitely take it easy for a few more days. He continued to stare and process his poor face for an unknown amount of time. When he had finally had enough of his own self-pity, he decided to go and see what the human was doing. He could not stand there feeling sorry for himself forever.

He left the bathroom, still in a pretty dismal mind-set. He blended, and went into the room where Shadow was painting. She was focused intently on the image in front of her, and the brush moved slowly across the canvass. Curious, Randall went behind her to look over her shoulder. He had to stand on his hind legs in order to get a good look, since she was taller than he was, standing normally. He saw an image of a human-like creature with the wings of a butterfly. The beauty of her wings was breathtaking, and the creature looked very delicate, like something you would have to handle very gently if you were to touch it. Randall couldn't help but feel like this winged girl was something to be treasured. There was something very not-human to her, something that elevated her from the animal that created her. She was looking up at he viewer of the painting with a look in her eyes that cried for someone to protect and treasure her, an expression of helplessness.

What confused Randall was that the creature was obviously injured, covered in bruises, and had been painted in a position on the floor like she had been pushed or fallen down. A human shaped shadow loomed over her with it's fist raised. Randall realized that the helpless cry for protection was aimed at her attacker, whoever that was. The image wasn't finished. There were many places where color and shadow still needed to be added, but it was obviously an emotionally charged piece. Randall's main question was why? Why would someone attack something so fragile? More importantly, why was Shadow painting her like this? It didn't occur to him on a conscious level, but it's likely that he felt sympathy for the winged creature because her injured and helpless state mirrored his own.

The human had stopped working and was taking another sip of her beverage, which had cooled by now. Randall forgot for a moment that he had come in while blended and that she wasn't aware of his presence. He wanted to know about the painting.

"What exactly is this?" He didn't even think before he spoke.

Shadow jumped from her stool and made a short, high pitched yelp. Is that what an adult human's scream sounds like? As she jumped, she spun around and knocked over the stool and the stand that her paints and brushes were sitting on. The sudden movement startled Randall and reminded him to de-blend himself. The human put a hand to her chest and breathed heavily for a second before exclaiming, "What the hell?"

The look on her face was priceless, and it dawned on Randall that he had scared her, really scared her. Randall, you've still got it. He felt a mixture of relief, pride, and amusement welling up in his belly. The pain of dealing with his reflection seemed to lift, and he cracked a smile in spite of himself.

"It's not funny, Scales, now I..." she looked at the mess around her. "Damn it, what were you thinking?"

"I didn't mean it. I just.." She looked so silly, standing there surrounded by splashed colors and her hand over her chest. He chuckled. "It was an accident."

"I said it wasn't funny. Stop laughing at me!"

Her scrunched up face was even funnier, and he laughed out loud.

"I mean it! Please?" She took a step back, and nearly stumbled after stepping on paintbrush.

He couldn't help but laugh again.

"I can't... I mean... Will you stop? I have to... are you going to help me clean this up or not?"

"Sure, Shadow." He could clearly see that she was becoming distressed, but the elation he was feeling made it nearly impossible to maintain his composure. He tried. But soon chuckled again, despite his best efforts. "But you have to admit it's pretty funny." He chuckled again.

"SHUT UP!" She threw her paint brush at him and missed, hitting the wall. Then a look of terror crossed her face and she ran out the room.

Hearing the brush clatter behind his head sobered Randall up in a heart beat. Oh no! I'd better fix this before she really does hurt me with something. Randall ran after her. "Shadow! Shadow, stop. I didn't mean it." He rounded the corner into the living room and she was opening the door to run outside. Oh man, what was her real name? Faye, it's Faye! "Faye wait. Please!" Hearing her name made her pause. She looked over her shoulder at him and waited for him to speak.

"Look, I'm sorry I laughed, okay?" It hurt to apologize to a human, but he did need her to forgive him. She was his caretaker. "I didn't mean to startle you, really, it's just something I'm uncommonly good at." It wasn't a lie. "Please, come back in and talk to me. I can't chase you out there."

Shadow continue to stand with the door open and spoke in a grave tone. "That was the point."

"What?" What does she mean, the point to what?

"I'll come back in if you promise you don't want to hurt me." Her eyebrows became raised. "I'm sorry I threw the brush at you. I wasn't thinking. Please don't be too angry?" Her voice cracked on the 'please' of the last sentence.

She didn't run to get a weapon. She ran because she was scared of me. He pondered the thought for a second before deciding it was a good thing.

"I'll behave if you will." He said. He watched her take a deep breath and slowly step back into the house and close the door behind her. She looked at him with an unreadable expression, but when she didn't speak, he guessed that she expected him to speak first. "Okay, now, will you tell me what's wrong? I honestly didn't mean to scare you." He decided to try to be patient with the frightened human.

Faye stood with the unmistakable posture of someone who felt cornered, one arm hung down with it's fist clenched, the other hand gripped that arm above the elbow. She kept her head down and seemed to be avoiding eye contact. I've seen monsters that looked like that, like Fungus when I yelled at him. That's one more thing our species have in common. Hmm. She looked up and spoke.

"I'm not scared. Well, I'm afraid that you might be angry at me for throwing the brush at you. But... Well, you startled me and then you laughed. I just... I normally wouldn't care, really, even if you meant it. Hell, startle me any other time and you can laugh all you want. I get it, it's funny. Just... It sounds so silly. In my head" She paused to take a deep breath. "I'm in a special frame of mind when I'm working. The project I'm working on puts me in an awful head space. It's, personal to me, this project. So I'm asking from a very vulnerable place, please don't do something like that when I'm in my studio. I won't be able to control my reactions." She looked him in the eye, and Randall squinted to read her better. She's pleading with me. Just how much does that painting mean to her? It can't be that important, can it? He decided to ask her about it.

"Okay, I can do that. I promise I won't bother you while you're painting. What is it you're making that's so emotional anyway. I saw it, but I don't think I get it."

"Come here, I'll show you." And with that, she walked past him, and around the corner to her studio. What is it with this human?They're all nuts! He rolled his eyes and followed her.

She asked him to wait in the middle of the room next to a table with an unreadable clutter of supplies on it. She opened a drawer and took out a stack of large, rectangular sheets of paper. She brought them to the table and cleared a space by shoving several things aside with one arm. She set the first one down.

"I normally don't talk about works in progress, but as long as you're staying here, I think you need to understand this." She pointed to the piece in front of him. He looked and saw the figure from last picture, a delicate, ethereal creature with captivating wings. This time, she was dancing with a male human and obviously in love. The joy in the posture of the winged creature was so infectious, Randall couldn't help but smile at her happiness. At the bottom of the image was a bit of writing. It said, "My dark past doesn't matter. You've changed me. It's like a fairy tale." What's the point of this? And what is the winged creature? It's too colorful and pretty to be a human, but it's not a monster either.

"What do you see?" It was Shadow who spoke.

"I see a winged creature that I don't recognize. She's happy. It looks like she's in love. Is the quote at the bottom something the human said?"

"The human? Oh, you mean the man, yes. It's his quote. The girl is a fairy, does the monster world not have fairy tales?"

"No, what exactly is a fairy supposed to be?" Then he remembered something. "That's what the dark human called you. You said it sounded like... something about eyes and glitter."

Shadow laughed. "Oh yeah, that's always been her nickname for me. I always tell her that I don't like it, even though I actually do, then she tells me she'll come up with something else, even though we both know she won't. It's the same interchange every time. But the short explanation of a fairy is that they are magical creatures known for their grace and beauty. In the stories, they grant wishes and make humans' dreams come true. They can be portrayed as being tiny enough to stand on my finger," she held up her finger for reference, "or as tall as a normal person. Most importantly, they all have wings to fly with, usually delicate ones like a butterfly's or in some stories, their wings are made of fragile things like flower petals, spider silk, or dried leaves."

"I see that she's supposed to be delicate, but in the picture you were painting earlier, it looked like the fairy was hurt, like she had been attacked. If the fairies are so delicate and special, why would someone hurt one?" He frowned, puzzled.

Shadow smiled grimly. "You're closer to getting it than you know." Then she put the next picture down.

It showed the fairy in a house. Her body was pointed towards the door and her wings were in mid-flap. She was turning her head back as if someone had called out to her as she was leaving. She had a smile on her face similar to the smile that she had when dancing. There was another text block at the bottom of this one. "I don't want you to go out tonight. If something happened to you out there, I don't know what I'd do. You're my world." That must be another quote from the human she loves. So, what's the story? Fairy falls for human man, human tells her things. He doesn't want her to leave the house? That's weird.

"So in this one, I guess they are living together. She wants to fly, but he just told her not to. Sounds kind of, controlling, but she obviously still loves him anyway. Maybe he really is concerned for her?" He looked to Shadow for some kind of confirmation.

"Yep." It was her only response before putting down the next picture.

This one was a close up of the fairy, with her face turned to a three-quarters view. There was a mark on the wall behind her where some kind of food had been thrown. Her eyes were enlarged and wet. Tears rolled down her face, but she still somehow looked beautiful. Randall wished his eyesight was better so he could see her eyes more clearly. They looked liquid. The text block said, "Please don't cry. I'm just stressed, and I can't handle you nagging on top of it. I'll do better, I promise. I love you more than anything."

I think I know where this is going, maybe? It wasn't common in the Monster World, but Randall had heard rumors of monster guys hurting their mates for whatever reason. He had never been sure why a girl would stay with a guy who did something like that. He himself could certainly be violent, especially towards stupid monsters, but he couldn't imagine hurting a female that he cared about. Girls were different, you just didn't hit them. A brief flash of his mother entered his mind, and he pushed it away.

"Do these paintings tell a story? Does it just get worse from here?" Randall asked.

"Yes." Faye sighed. "I still have several more paintings to go, but these are the first. It's a series of watercolors that are going in an exhibition in December, so I have two months, almost. I'll have ten images by then. And the story will be complete."

"But what is the story? I get that he's going to get worse, but why does she stay?"

"She believes him." Shadow began making herself busy by gathering the papers up and carrying them back to their drawer. It was obvious she didn't want to say much else.

"Why it hard for you to paint and talk about it?" Randall suddenly had a shocking thought. "This didn't happen to you did it? Are you the fairy in the picture?" He almost didn't want to ask, but curiosity got the better of him. She stopped moving.

"No, it's not me. The fairy in this story dies at the end." She went back to an almost frantic pace of organizing the clutter.

She lost someone! She's telling the story of someone she cared about. Oh wow! That's it! She's giving wings to the girl that died. What if it's because she couldn't save her? Do humans do that? Is this how a human works through grief? That's... it's so sad, but there's beauty too. I don't know how to feel about this. I've got to ask her about it. He made up his mind.

"Shadow?"

"Yes, Scales?"

"Was the fairy someone you knew?"

There was a long pause.

"Sarah. Her name was Sarah." She paused and seemed to muse to herself. "Saying it out loud still hurts a bit." She gave a weak smile and looked at her feet. "She always said that he was going to get better and they would be happy again. We all tried to do something about it. I called the cops twice. She always got him out of trouble. She told me she didn't want any help." Shadow stood the stool back up and sat down on it. "That creep had her so fucking beat down that she really thought she deserved all of it, that she could never have anyone better than him. Eventually, we stopped seeing her. He wouldn't let her leave the house." She had stopped her busy work and was now sitting on the stool next to the easel.

"I went over there one day when I knew she would be alone. I wanted to talk some sense into her. She was afraid that he would find her if she left, and he would hurt her for leaving. We came up with a plan that she would give him a few sleeping pills in his dinner and I would take her out to stay with my aunt after he went to bed. The..." She swallowed, her voice had been becoming strained. "The last thing she said to me was "I'll see you tonight. I think you just saved my life." She began to shake.

"He said it was an accident. He said that they got in a fight and she wouldn't stop screaming at him. He actually told the judge that all he wanted was for her to stop screaming, and that it was an accident. He got accidental manslaughter, and he'll be out in just a few years." She stood up and began moving her arms as if she were gesturing to a scene in front of her that Randall couldn't see. "He kept her prisoner for two whole years! He tortured her mind and beat her! Then he fucking killed her the night she was going to escape! He fucking strangled her so she would stop screaming! I..." She bit her lip and looked away for a moment. "She must have told him what she was going to do. She must have wanted to stand up to him, just once." She looked Randall in the eyes.

"I know that if I hadn't have gone over there and said what I said to her, if I have done it differently, she would still be alive. Sarah died because of my misguided," she spat the word, "attempt to help her. And because some people are just born sick." She seemed to smile for a moment. "You're right to be afraid of humans my friend, there are some good ones out there, like Carol, and my aunt, and Mr. Davidson, my college watercolor professor, but you can't hardly tell which ones are good and which ones are like Steve, not from looking at them. She thought that I'd saved her. I still remember the look in her eyes. It was like she was feeling hope for the first time in two years. I relive that every time I sit down to paint this project. But I have to finish it. I have to... I don't know. Maybe it's that I have to say good bye this way, it may be the only way I know. Does that make any sense?"

She looked up at Randall, who had been standing there, listening and trying to process the whole story. He had been right, but he wasn't prepared for the sudden burst of emotion coming from the human in front of him, or expect her to share the way she did. Maybe it was a form of catharsis. Maybe she just needed to say it all out loud to vent the pressure, and I just happened to be here at the right time. He decided that that was pretty likely. It still meant that humans were far more emotionally complex than he had given them credit for. He would have to dwell on that for a while before really accepting it, but consciously, he knew it was true.

"I think so. I won't bother you while you're working anymore. I think I'll leave you alone for a while, if that's okay?"

"Yeah, I need some time too. I'm tired now." She sat down on her stool and began staring at her work once more.

She must be emotionally drained from remembering all that. He felt a pain in his belly that he could only mean that he felt sympathy for the grieving human. If you had told me a week ago that I would feel this way over the sorrow of a human, I would have punched someone. What is my life coming to? He turned to leave the room, but a voice in his head stopped him to say one last thing.

"Shadow?" She looked up at him. "I'm sorry." He watched her head as she nodded and turned around again. I hope that was enough.