Ch: 15 Keep Your Head

Hey peeps.

This one is kind of dark to me. I'm not sure where this darkness is coming from. But, one thing I do know is that I don't want to be Mary Sue. I sure don't want everything in this fic to come naturally to my main characters. They all have faults and they all screw up. Nothing is handed to them on a silver plate.

Forgive me if it's too dark. But this was striking me, guiding me, prompting me.

And this chapter is what came out of an incredibly pensive, jumpy mood.

Enjoy.

;]

MWJ

A large number of useless, frustrating days passed. As she sat under Jean's wrist examinations her emotions seemed to dip into a hot, boiling furnace. Kim kept her eyes locked on the bandages twirling around and around on her arm; pale and obnoxious. They might as well have shouted, "Look here! I have an injury! I'm vulnerable!"

She did not see the apprehensive attention that Jean focused on her. She did not realize how reserved she became with each passing day.

She did not see Logan in the backdrop, watching her with narrowed eyes.

The simple act of gazing after her peers as they left the mansion for school, somewhat pining the school life herself, fueled Kim's quiet depression. Self-pity loomed over her head like a cloud. Kim tore her eyes away from the window of her room and threw the curtains shut angrily. She scorned this helpless, self loving act that threatened to overcome all of her thoughts. Her mom had taught her to find a solution when life slammed a predicament down. To fall into the act of pitying oneself was to fall into a depth-less well. Never to return...

Cool, moist air found its way into her burning lungs as she jogged in the early hours of dawn.

Millions upon millions of unresolved thoughts spiraled in her mind.

Sometimes...she thought she was going crazy.

Get a grip, Kim. The Professor cannot see this. Nor can Logan. You are tougher than this. Soon they WILL put you back in school! You know you will find respite there...

Even these pep talks grew smaller and smaller.

One day, they stopped all together.

One day, late in the evening she retreated to her room. Kim couldn't stand mutant company another second. As the distance between her room and the others lengthened, Kurt's nervous laughter followed her down the hall like a ghost. Her white door, pale in the sunset's glow, appeared on her left. She crossed the rug, opened it, and slipped inside. She listened to her door as it clicked close.

Finally. She was alone.

Kim breathed in silently.

But this was not enough.

A strong feeling of frantic desperation burned inside her. At first, she simply stood by her door, taking deep breaths. It's okay. Calm down. Just calm down.

Who was she kidding.

Like a mad woman, she threw herself next to her unpacked luggage and rummaged through them. The moment her fingers touched the sides, she pulled the spiral notebook out. It was one of the few empty ones she owned, in case of emergencies. The written art was a past time she enjoyed. But this notebook would be re-purposed differently. She snatched a pen off her dresser, wincing as the unnatural fold of her fingers caused her skin to stretch. With a hiss, the pen dropped soundlessly to the carpet.

Then, a pregnant silence permeated the room...

I hate this, she thought to herself. Her throat suddenly ached and tightened.

I freaking hate this.

A hot, pulsing tear ran down her cheek.

With a plump, she sat down on her floor and gripped the pen again with her tired, left hand. Across the strict lines, her dashes and letters looked terrible. Huge and bulging.

But they will have to do.

For the next four weeks, approximately the amount of time she had left before going back for a new semester, she mapped out a new work out schedule. Jean said previously that she could go back to school within a week, but after this was discussed with the Professor and school principal, they decided that because she was so behind in her classes already. It wouldn't be worth the effort to catch up on a testy wrist. One that she could no longer use.

Her new routine became almost triple the work load that she was used to at the present moment. More time for cardio and weight training. Physically, she knew she could handle more. A bigger challenge. Yes.

She needed that.

She also knew she practiced Yoga in the evenings anyway. Yoga would help lift the pain from her sore, taught muscles, and would give her a time to refocus.

This new schedule would be grueling.

It would be mind consuming.

It would drive her to the ground.

Kismet closed the notebook and threw it on her bed, getting down on her floor to begin another set of three limbed pushups. Her left side would become stronger.

This routine would be perfect.

Three weeks into her new schedule, Kim numbly hiked deeper into the glade surrounding Xavier's haven.

She ached for a moment of solitude. Back in Pennsylvania there wasn't much greenery to enjoy as in the outsources of New York. Nature belonged in its own time frame; it possessed its own will of feeling things, doing things, accomplishing things. Perhaps that is why she repeatedly found herself in it; there was a peace to be had, a clarity to be found. No ultra hyped chatter bothered her. No whispers and side glances rubbed against her soul. Every living object around her watched silently. Contemplatively..

A month ago, the idea of even stepping out into the cold, dense woodland didn't appear attractive. Yet, she was delighted to find the cool shadows comforting. The quiet landscape, reassuring. Instead of doing laps in the pool downstairs, she completed cardio by jogging over the uneven terrain. Leaping over fallen trees, avoiding mud holes, and keeping her balance when she slipped on wet moss. Since its inception, every night she collapsed fully into bed. Not even dreams could claim her. This, in itself, took a lot of weight off her shoulders. She had been having a lot of nightmares lately.

Another tear leaked down her cheek. Kim skirted a prickly bush, and pulled herself up another hill.

The progression of the three weeks with working out in the morning, in the afternoon, and in the evening until she dropped? Was proving to add more strain on her sessions in the Danger Room. Contrary to mutual assumption among the mutants (who thought she'd be steadily improving) Kismet's skills seemed to worsen. Disappointment bloomed inside her like a sour grape. The bruises earned through power combat normally wouldn't affect her negatively. But since she honestly could only master the martial art aspect of DR training (her powers became a hindrance when she was tired) Kim wanted to scream. She found that training harder, when she was by herself, was an excellent way to push down regurgitating frustrations.

Those around her reacted according to their personalities. Scott didn't really notice and continued to dish out the same treatment he gave anybody. Kitty raised her eyebrows but kept her questions to herself. Despite her blazing curiosity. Jean gazed towards Kim in worry as the younger ones gleefully took advantage of her numb slip ups. Privately, she had brought this to the Professor more than once. Her inborn nursing instincts kicked in right away and she didn't like how pale her charge had become. Spike only looked confused and spent less time engaging her in power combat. He didn't see the point and he must have had a tinge of sympathy. He wasn't the type of guy to fight someone weaker than himself. Amara grit her teeth. Ever since Xavier announced her 5 week punishment, she'd avoided Kim. She never truly hated anyone, but Kim was close to being one of her firsts. As the weeks flew by, however, some of the old Amara slipped back into her heart. She did feel concerned about the other girl, but she refused to show it. Kurt was the only one who immediately acted upon his feelings. More than once, he raced to her side to ward off her opponents, scolding them shrilly. Can't you see how tired she is?

Storm, up in the observatory, watched all of this expressionlessly. More than once she looked over to Xavier. He didn't return her unvoiced questions but his eyes couldn't leave his newer charge. He thought about all of those evenings he'd invited her into his office to aid in her meditations and help her produce stronger mind control. Her concentration seemed to waver more now than it did a month ago, but she continued to impress him with her dogged determination and leaps in her learning. The inner workings of the mind, he discovered, was one of Kim's strengths. Yet, he wasn't sure if what he understood to be a nervous, anxious to please student could actually be a young, terrified, withdrawn woman. Incredibly withdrawn. Secretive. Xavier's lips thinned as Kim took yet another bad fall. The time she took in getting up lasted longer than the previous. Her eyes burned, though. Determined. Stubborn. Xavier closed his eyes.

Just like her aunt…

Wolverine rumbled. His voice startled Xavier and drew an appraising glance from Storm. Like a volcano becoming restless with alarming activity, Wolverine's silence didn't fool anyone. He was mad.

"Logan," the professor began. The jagged thoughts emanating off of Wolverine were a flashing beacon to the Professor. He glanced over at his longtime friend, seeing the darkness brewing in the other man's eyes. Logan shoved his hands further into his pockets as he looked deeper through the glass. Xavier knew he was attentively watching one student. Just as he opened his mouth to ask him what was wrong, Logan's upper torso pivoted, his eyes locked with the Professor's.

"-Charles," he said gruffly. "This has gone far enough. We should have stopped her weeks ago. She's working herself to death. Why? She's scared out of her mind that's why. I'll stake my life on it. She needs to be talked to. The longer this continues, the less of a Kim we'll have."

Storm waited. Xavier dropped his eyes. The anger behind Wolverine's words only punctured his guilty conscience. A sigh slipped from his lips, loud and defeated.

"I've noticed, Logan," he spoke slowly. "I know. In my own stupidity, I left her alone. I thought she'd come around and open up to me if I gave her enough time. But...I was wrong."

"Xavier-" Storm interrupted worriedly. She stepped forward but Xavier shook his head.

"No. I mean it. I was stupid. I should have approached her sooner. There is a dark memory that is hers and hers alone. She continuously leads me away from it in our sessions. I'm afraid that...this is something we should have broached the moment she came to stay with us."

Wolverine muttered an indecent oath. With clenched fists, he walked away from the window and turned to face the opposite wall. Dark memories? This couldn't be good. Not good at all. His back and shoulders heaved with every new breath. Fighting for calmness, he gazed at the wall before him. Xavier watched him attentively, studying the tension in the other man's shoulders.

"She does not trust me enough," he said, his heart sinking. "No. Her trust in me isn't deep enough. And I? I have let her down."

Wolverine spun around. "Now wait, Xavier. I wasn't blaming you-"

Xavier held up his hand, silencing him.

"But I should be blamed. Am I not the headmaster of this school? Are not the children under MY care and supervision?"

"Charles," Storm commanded evenly, her voice ringing steady and strong. The Professor glanced back at her. "If that is your reasoning, then we ALL deserve to be blamed. I am a leader here, and I myself could have taken Kim aside and questioned her about her health. Offered help. Let her know that I was here for her. But I didn't. And you know what?"

With this last sentence, her voice kicked up a notch. Wolverine crossed his arms and gave her his full attention. Storm nodded to him appreciatively, before saying in a firm voice-

"In all of her four months that she has stayed with us, gentlemen, I noticed that she didn't make an effort to become friendly. With anyone. Yes, some of our students are particularly introverted. Some have gone through terrible trials. Such as Kim. But I don't believe this girl to be an introvert. Not for one second." She paused, staring off into space. Logan didn't interrupt her thinking. Neither did Xavier. Continuing in a more revered tone, she finally said, "However, the times where I was could interact with her one and one, I loved her. Kim is one of the more mature students that we've taken on. It's almost as if she has been in the same level of Scott, Jean, Rogue, Kitty, and Kurt since their training began. She has a beautiful, tough spirit. Caring. Respectful. But, even as our students each pried for my attention, the fact that she wasn't exactly molding into our student's society should have set up a red flag in my mind. Jean is the only other female she talks to. Jean, gentlemen. And even she doesn't know much about Kim's past."

A tight, rippling tension sucked in the occupants of the room. A long moment of time passed in tense silence. Storm gently broke it again.

"Remember," she said quietly. "She isn't in contact with her best friend. I think that keeping Brianna's predicament from her wasn't a very good idea. And, I don't know if you know this Wolverine, but a woman's best friend is her anchor...Kim doesn't have that anymore."

A loud, audible horn blast sounded in the room below. A warning for the next training sequence. Some of the younger ones sat down on the cold, metal ground, gaining respite from the back breaking training. All three adults waited until the sequence began before returning to the conversation.

"This can't continue," Xavier said slowly. "We will never force her to reveal everything. Her past is her own. But, I won't have any of my students working themselves into oblivion before their first year."

Logan bit his tongue. Kismet very much reminded him of himself. He wanted to speak to her, engage her, maybe even help her. Yet, a woman to woman chat would be Storm's area of expertise. He wouldn't mess with that at all.

Another loud horn sounded, but this time, with two sharp interludes. Their training was done. Breakfast would be waiting invitingly in the kitchen. Storm reached down towards her unoccupied chair to grab her notebooks and training tools. The meeting was apparently over. But what was going to happen to Kismet? Logan glanced at both of them, but Storm answered his queries. As she straightened, she stepped lightly around him, giving him a calm glance over her shoulder.

"Logan, whatever you do, be gentle. Don't eat the poor lamb."

Logan's mouth dropped. "Wait...me? Storm!"

With an encouraging smile and a simple,"You have to admit, she bonded with you first. She trusts you the most out of everyone here,"- she gracefully sauntered out of the observatory to gather her charges for their much deserved breakfast.

Xavier turned his chair around and followed suit.

"Good," he said. "That's settled. I hope we get to the bottom of this."

XXXXX

Logan approached her in the kitchen after dropping the kids off. He was fully awake, ready to tackle whatever she might throw at him. Kim slowly feasted on yet another bountiful breakfast. Beneath her eyes sat visibly dark circles. Incriminating evidence to her poor condition. Logan, without confirmation, knew that her sharp, intelligent look had vanished. A vacant, emptiness dripped from her eyes.

And, by the God above, did he hate that.

He clenched and unclenched his hands, his resolve even stronger than before. Kim was shutting herself away, and that could be dangerous. Communication was incredibly important within their sanctuary. A lot of their mutant teenagers had family issues. Without Xavier's humane and caring counsel, Logan knew this mansion would have fallen apart years ago. But this time, their worry of Magneto's vengeance had caused them all to overlook Kismet.

I will help you, little one, he thought, gazing at her. And that is a promise.

At that moment she noticed his huge presence. She swore she could almost feel his breath sweep her hair and her fork froze halfway to her mouth. Kim felt way too tired to lift her head, and too afraid to see what sat within her mentor's eyes. She put her fork down.

"Morning," she said quietly.

"Morning…" Logan repeated. Without a care, he sat down straight across from her. Kim found his quiet inspection of her, unnerving. She refused to fidget but she couldn't help but wonder at his sudden attention. Was he still thinking about the food fight? Was there something about Amara that needed further discussion? Fighting for time, she decided to fold her arms comfortably on the counter-top.

"Did you need something, Mr. Logan?" she asked in a conversational tone. His reaction wasn't what she expected. Abruptly, he leaned back and unleashed his claws. The metal shing sound rang through the kitchen, echoing in her ear drums. He inspected them gently… contemplatively. With anyone else, she felt sure they would have jumped and edged back. However, Kim was happy to find that she hadn't flinched. It could be that she was physically just too fatigued, her reflexes dumbed down. But she liked to think that she was brave.

Concentrate on the matter at hand, you dolt, she told herself.

Logan re-sheathed his claws of destruction and sighed. The sigh seemed brotherly, like he was exasperated with her. Kim blinked.

"Kid…I'm going to be frank. What's going on? Are you seriously trying to kill yourself out there?"

Kim's eyes widened and she sat speechless. Instantly, she knew he was talking about her...new routines. She hadn't considered the implications her extra training could have on the older mutants. They might even protest to her grueling exercise. Was Xavier mad at her? But wait…why should it matter? Who were they to tell her that she couldn't train as hard as she wanted? Honestly, they should be happy she was putting 110%. In a sense, she was preparing herself for the world.

Kim found herself frowning and relaxed. Now wouldn't be the time to snap.

"I intend to live longer than 18, Logan Sir," she replied. Her voice had a hard, warning edge to it, something that Logan didn't miss. Kismet kicked herself. So much for not snapping at him. She took a deep breath. "And no," she said slowly. "I'm not trying to kill myself. Not to be disrespectful, but that's ridiculous."

Logan's eyes gazed toward the side and then back at her again, like he'd processed her words but had lain them back on the table. Like...he didn't believe her.

"So…you're…what?"

"Training," she said firmly.

Logan raised an eyebrow.

"Training…"

Kim swallowed the anger constricting in her chest. Logan's gaze was understanding…but sad. She didn't want his sympathy. And she had a hunch (an unwelcome one) that he knew what was really going on. She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. The tentacles of irritation were beginning to pinch her insides, but she fought them.

"Training. Working out. Cross country training. Whatever you want to call it."

Logan regarded her mutely. For a moment, they stared at each other. Then he shifted, getting off his chair.

"Come with me, Kid."

Kim didn't move.

From centuries of working with broken kids, lost kids, misguided kids, he sensed her stillness at once. There were no footsteps on the linoleum flooring; he knew she hadn't gotten off her chair to follow him. He stopped at the entrance, and gazed back over his shoulder. Something in her eyes stopped him from threatening her to follow him, or be taken away kicking and screaming. He took in how pinched she looked, how low she sagged. It was then and there that he agreed with Storm. Already she was clamming up. There was a stubborn will burning in her eyes, underlined with fear and exhaustion. He lowered his tone.

"Please Kismet."

Something like impending doom settled in her heart. Kim didn't think Wolverine was the type to ask nicely. She wasn't, unless she was talking to her mother. Or Bri. Or Jean. Or the Professor. Or a handful of people. She couldn't deny that she felt flattered. He actually asked her politely, hesitantly. But her stomach twisted while her heart pumped happily for a few beats. She wanted nothing else than to avoid him. She knew what type of conversation they'd have. And she wished desperately to fight it.

Yet. Decorum bade her to listen when a teacher called for her.

This was no exception.

She didn't notice his sigh of relief. She slowly got off her chair, her creaky limbs protesting. Her dishes were dirty. She wanted to wash them, but a pair of hands suddenly appeared to take them from her. She looked up into the kind eyes of Beast. He smiled.

"Go ahead. I'll get these."

Kim felt her heart warm a little, even as ice drew around it. Without looking at Logan, she turned around walked out of the kitchen.

After she changed into warmer clothing, Logan escorted her down the halls. Riding the elevator down was awkward, but Kim was too tired to care. The basements that held the pools, indoor soccer and basketball arenas, gym, and a score of different things, they avoided. Instead, Logan led her down another corridor, instantly taking a left. The passage wasn't long and soon she found herself in another garage. One she hadn't seen before. Different cars were parked inside; heavy duty ones that ranged in power and speed. She studied it all with a single glance, wondering and questioning at the same time. But they stopped at the very front, next to a sleek motorcycle.

She'd heard about it; his baby. His one pride and joy. No-one was allowed a ride on it. That alone didn't keep her fellow mutants from drooling at the thought. He wasn't meaning to…?

Logan left her next to the bike as he walked to the other side of the room, stopping at a large cabinet built into the stone walls. He rummaged inside and came back with another helmet and a dark black leather jacket. Her size.

"If you are afraid of bikes, then I apologize. But I'm too impatient to drive one of those humungo vans."

Kim caught the helmet he threw to her, its weight and size very real in her hands. She turned it over, her apprehension mounting.

"I thought you didn't allow students on your mortorcycle, Mr. Logan," she said tartly.

He gave her the jacket in a more polite manner, not meeting her bait. Then, he straddled the bike.

"But think of the envy you'll create, darlin'... Popularity will be yours for at least a month. Give or take two."

Kismet rolled her eyes at his sarcasm, but something like a smile pulled at her lips... An extremely old move. She hadn't exercised her grinning muscles in a long time... Popularity? She sure didn't need this, either. However, traveling on a bike meant getting outside; getting outside meant seeing the world. Seeing the world meant a moment where she no longer felt trapped inside a convent. Not to mention cruising through some of New York.

Kismet jumped, thankfully only enough for her to notice, when he revved up his engine. The garage door was illuminated with light as it groaned, opening. The light brightened as it opened wider, causing her to squint. She looked at Logan sitting there, checking some vitals and temps. He leaned down to tighten a strap on his boot. Then she looked back outside. Red leaves swept down over the garage door. Light touched their membranes, shimmering red over the concrete floor. A breeze suddenly washed by and a few of the leaves danced. Kim actually felt the air tickle her face before it whisked away...The sky overhead was grey, but the sunlight was strong and incredibly inviting. Kim was suddenly struck with a powerful longing.

With a sinking conscience barricaded with wary defeat, she put the helmet down on the seat behind him, and pushed her arms into the heavy jacket, freeing her hood from the inside. She zipped herself up, fighting her panicked thoughts. She felt grateful for the warmth that wrapped around her. Then, working against her awkwardness, (Logan had turned around to help her zip and snap the jacket in correctly) she took the huge helmet and…squeezed it on over her head. Sound was immediately muffled, her sight instantly limited. She found she had to exaggerate her head movements in order to see carefully. Logan checked her over and gave her a thumbs up, turning back to the front. Kim stopped before straddling the bike.

Are you ready for this, baby girl? You know what kind of conversation is going to happen.

One leaf seceded from its branch, falling to the pavement below. She gazed at its forlorn form.

I can't very well avoid it. Let's just get this over with.

She got on the bike behind him, finding enough room for her short frame, and sat back. Logan's voice came to her from an earpiece inside the helmet. She applauded the genius. She wouldn't have been able to hear him otherwise.

"Okay kid. Hang on tight. I won't go too fast and I won't let you fall off. Ready?"

"How long are we going to be?"

Logan cranked the engine.

"Hopefully not too long."

The bike lurched and they sped out of the driveway.

XXXX

Downtown Manhattan was bustling. They brushed past it as they rode under another green light. There was something soothing about gliding so fast on the road that the yellow dividers were a simple blur below your feet. When the city buildings all looked the same, she watched these zip by. One. Two. Three. Four. ...Yeah. She soon lost count.

"Almost there," Logan said, his voice dragging her away from the ground. Soon they were crossing into a deeper part of town, taking a number of lefts and rights that she couldn't recount. Then, to her surprise, he announced where they were headed. She got off the bike the minute he parked. He was still turning down the engine.

So this is Central Park.

Kismet forgot about Logan. With wide, empty eyes, she looked into the concrete pathways. Complete strangers traversed them, their faces fresh from recognition, their identities unknown. Three months was a long time to be sheltered off from the world. Silently, she remembered her helmet and reached up to take it off. She was met with cold November air, and an array of sounds. A few dogs barked in excitement, and a baby cried from not too far away. Kismet shook her head.

"Come on, half pint," Logan said behind her. "I know you're dying for a stroll."

She turned to him to protest, but he was already walking down a path, his hands buried in his leather jacket. She glanced at the bike, seeing his helmet sitting out in the open. She tightened her hand around hers, unsure. Should she leave it there?

"Kid," he called back to her.

Kismet bristled. She wasn't a dog. Eyes sparking, she planted the helmet on the seat, uncaring if it was stolen. Then she strode swiftly up to this side, biting her tongue.

They walked like that for a bit. In tight silence. Logan didn't offer to speak so Kim finally had to.

"Alright," she said after a while. That word hung uncomfortably in the air as she waited for his reaction. "Why are we here, Logan?"

They began walking across a stretch of grass, their feet sinking into the wet mud. An old oak, sitting not too far from a vacant bench, bent and danced in the wind...

Logan didn't reply until he was comfortable seated. Kim knew she didn't to stand in front of him so she took the spot on his left, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

People passed them. Kismet observed them, sometimes wishing that their lives were hers.

Then Logan cleared his throat. Off in the distance, a pet owner wound his arm back and chucked a bright red ball for his dog. The animal gleefully charged after the toy, the grace of his strides capturing Kim's attention. She allowed Logan's words to soak in... He spoke gently.

"Before I say too much, I want to first state that I'm not here to be threatening towards you. At all. Or force you to do anything. Force breaks trust, and I respect yours."

Kim couldn't focus on the dog. Her concentration slipped.

"I mean," he continued, "I couldn't. Charles wouldn't let me number one, but somehow…I don't think I scare you that much."

"No. Not really," she blurted. Her face flushed at her sudden declaration. Great. Like he needed to know that!

Then, to her surprise, Logan laughed. This calmed her somewhat. She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Nah, Kid. You are too plucky for that. I don't aim to scare anyone. It just happens. But what I am here for is to help. To guide. To protect if need be. Protection isn't always necessary, because we train you all to protect yourselves. Charles isn't going to be here, one day."

Kim stomach twisted into a knot.

He won't…and it's not like I know him that well. But I already miss the Professor. Wow girl, get a grip. You're getting emotionally torn, now?

"But... I'm also here as someone to talk to. In case you need to get something off your chest."

Those words stopped her heart. An ice, the same one that had captured her in the kitchen, began sliding down her body. Her heart hammered in her throat as she felt the world around her waver.

No…I'm not going to talk about that. Anything but that. And especially not with you.

Kim! He doesn't even know! Why are you freaking out?

What if he does know? Those bruises weren't exactly hidden when I regained consciousness!

The Professor himself said he personally didn't intrude into your memory. He RESPECTS you, so does Logan. Both of them wouldn't force anything out of you.

"Kim? Are you alright?"

A flash of terror seized her body when she realized that a few tears had escaped and were sliding down her cheeks. Kim forced herself to take a deep breath. She desperately wished she could go back and time and erase all of this! Logan would be thinking about her now; he'd know she was upset about something. But what else was there to do?

She shook her head, the words pouring out of her before she could single them out and consider them. Deliver them.

"No. I'm not going to talk about this right now. With you. I can't. Maybe some other time. But I just can't. I'm sorry."

She got up and started walking feverishly. In a second, Logan was by her side, keeping pace. Kim didn't go back to the bike. Instead she rounded the bend and began the trail, walking so fast that she was forced to breathe quickly. The wind dried her tears, making their trails icy against her red cheeks. She reached up a shaking hand to brush them away. Kim felt chaotic. She was never this extreme with her emotions, unless something pissed her off. She could always keep her head. Maybe personal issues went deeper in the heart. Or maybe she was due for her monthly blessing. Either way, she didn't consider her fatigue, her loneliness, her pent up frustration, her fitful sleep, and her long separation from her previous family.

Logan didn't bother her. In fact? She realized that he was only concerned for her well fare. Kind of like a dad. A dad she never had. Physically, he was giving her enough room to say that she wouldn't hear anymore from him. What he said back there was it. Zilch. Zoop. Nothing. Obviously, he discovered a raw nerve. Now he knew something was truly bugging her. And yet...she had a feeling that he wouldn't step on that forbidden place unless she herself, instigated it. All of this didn't destroy her panic, however. They passed another bend, and Kim switched paths. She wanted to get a grip over herself before she opened her mouth. If she found a bathroom, she'd plead bladder issues and hunker down until she had the grace to appear normal. Maybe then, she could convince him to take her back to the mansion. She didn't want anymore questions, and she didn't want to talk.

But it wasn't meant to be...

Her instincts cautioned her way before it happened. So much so that she slowed down, balanced her stance and actually gazed over her shoulder. All of this was habit. She didn't even realize she was following muscle memory until she saw him.

John.

Briefly, his razor sharp smile and black eyes filled in her line of sight. That moment of recognition gave her heart a terrible jolt. In another second, she also realized that he jogged too fast for a simple work out. He was hunting. And he'd found his target. John unsheathed two daggers and dove at her.

Kismet didn't have time to panic. She jumped away from his tackle and rolled onto her side, coming up in a stronger position. She faintly heard screams in the background and Logan howling in rage, but adrenaline blocked out everything except survival. They circled each other, eyes for the other alone. He dove in more than once, in complex maneuvers that sought to destroy her. Or weaken her defense. She tried to call upon her powers, but they reared away from her tired command like an obstinate horse. She had to do one or the other. Only years of judo training kept her from losing it. His dagger shot out to puncture her heart, but she deflected his hand with the stronger part of her arm. He kicked her on the thigh, stealing a gasp from her lips. The pain shot up her leg, but she remained on her feet, pushing to the other side. Then, she countered him with one of her own kicks and jabs. Her techniques didn't quite catch him off guard. But, she saw a tiny bit of annoyance spark in his eyes. He didn't figure her to have a back ground in martial arts. Kim moved back again, glaring at him. Didn't expect that, huh? You son of a ...

Yet, John was older than she was. He possessed more experience, and Kim found just able to keep up with him. Another one of his daggers caught the edge of her jacket, stealing away her oxygen. If it punctured...but it did not! Kim realized how padded down she was. The dagger didn't even reach her skin, but cut through the top layers, letting cold air inside her clothes. He realized it the moment she did, his eyes ablaze in hate. Bless Logan for forcing her to wear multiple layers! He growled and dove in more quickly, clearly infuriated.

Kismet grit her teeth and began to reiterate a saying in her head. It was a short line of curse words, all against him. Every time she repeated it, she grew angrier. With her anger came bursts of energy. She paced herself with him, rising above her bone dragging fatigue, dodging again and again. Once his attention slipped Kim didn't hesitate. With a resounding verbal note that her teacher taught her, in order to gather the entire body behind the blow, she caught John in the stomach then upper cut into his thigh. She hit so hard, he retched and fell in a heap of limbs. She didn't leave him and began tackling his other vulnerable areas, forcing him to roll away from her attacks.

John bellowed in fury and faked a leap to one side. She backed off and rebounded, but he kicked through and up, throwing her in the air. She landed and rolled, catching sight of Logan. Two other men, ones she didn't recognize, held him at bay. This next moment would be pierced in her memory for a long... long time. It was the second their eyes met, she was hit with a few things.

First, Logan was infuriated.

He yearned to murder any of them that lay a finger on her.

Then, Kismet felt her heart lurch in a different way.

Not in fear.

But in understanding.

He was like her dad.

A dad that cared and loved his daughter with enough fierceness to wrap around the earth... a million times.

A dad that had never been there for her.

Logan screamed her name. Kismet could only see the movements of his lips as they parted and closed.

Would Logan die for her?

No. No. She wouldn't let that happen. Then she was back on her feet, on the defense. Her legs were shaking and her skull was pounding. To her horror, she didn't see John until it was too late. His arm snaked around, his body moving like water, and he cut through her defense to slash below her knee. Less padding, less protection. Precious, precious tendons that could easily be broken. The pain was indescribable. It couldn't be ignored. Kim only bit back part of the scream. It came through as a wailing howl. Swiftly, she backed away from his advance, leaning on her good leg. Fighting him off. She could feel the blood sticking her jeans to skin, oozing down her leg. That leg began to buckle.

Then John came up behind her and locked her into a submissive hold. Kim struggled against him, savagely cursing out loud. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"It's too bad Bri couldn't be here to witness this," he murmured. At the name of her friend, Kim wrenched particularly hard, dark spots covering her vision.

BRIANNA.

"She had such lovely, blue eyes. Beautiful as diamonds…but she was weaker than you. She even tried coming at me with her bare hands, the little kitten. Kept refusing to tell me what I wanted to know. What I needed to know about you."

His hand clamped onto her mouth as Kim began to scream. Hot tears burned in her eyes as she shook harder and harder, frantic to get him off. What did her master teach her? WHAT DID HER MASTER TEACH HER.

"It's funny, really. She died true to you. I didn't get one thing out of her. Not one bit of information. Amazing fealty. Total and without blemish. That must mean you were really…really good friends."

Kim snapped her head back, aiming for his nose, but he laughed. His lips brushed gently against her ears as he whispered the rest.

"But really. I must ask…what kind of friend leaves their buddy to die in the hands of a murderer?"

NOOOOOOOOOO.

Kismet called upon an inescapable, high wave that materialized from the ground. It rose up hundreds of feet in the air, glittering and undulating. Her body thrummed with power, absolutely rattling John's hold. Logan's shout was drowned in the surrounding screams around him. With a flash of lightning, and a crack of thunder, the wave came down with a vengeance, drowning only two occupants.

Kim and John.

XXXX

Mrs. Reid made a split second decision. She turned her TV back on. The second the screen cleared, the newscaster gazed at the camera with a resigned expression. He began to talk but she didn't hear him. All she saw were two convincingly clear pictures in the top left corner. Both held faces that she knew.

Her daughter's best friend, Brianna.

And her own.

"If you see this woman, call 9-1-1. She is reportedly armed and highly dangerous. DO NOT APPROACH. Accused of the murder of 18 year old Brianna McNida."

"THIS IS THE POLICE. MRS. REID, PLEASE OPEN YOUR DOOR AND COME OUT, OR WE WILL ASSUME ACTION. WE DO NOT WISH TO HARM YOU."

We do not wish to harm you, we do not wish to harm you.

We do not wish to harm you.

Mrs. Reid moved. She grabbed her coat off the back of her chair. She stared out the little slit of window as she passed into the hall, her mind on auto pilot. Two men from the squad were rounding quickly to the back, dressed in bombproof jackets and leading dogs. She could almost laugh. As if she'd shoot anyone.

She calculated exactly a minute before they broke open the rickety, kitchen door. That door had always needed to be replaced. She thought of its rusting hinges and changed her calculations. 30 seconds. Pop. She climbed the stairs two at a time, completely silent as she avoided the creaky spots, and ended up in her daughter's hall. It split into her bedroom to the right, or the bathroom on the left. She dove into the bathroom, and locked the door behind her.

She yanked back the bath curtain and bent down to double knot her shoes.

Downstairs, the kitchen door slammed open.

Mrs. Reid opened the bathroom window. It was new, installed only six months ago. With her hand, she punched out the screen, and climbed onto his frame. It was too small for a full grown man, but Kim and she had always been on the small side. Looking down at the ten feet below her, where the thick grass grew, she smiled. The bush also planted there a year ago would curb her fall. As would the trash bags full of Kim's unused clothes. Placed there only months ago to be taken to Goodwill. Forgotten. Probably wet.

But cushioning.

She heard the pounding on the stairs as she leaped. The fall was over before it had even begun. At the last minute, she tucked herself into a rolling position, certain that if she died? At least she died trying to be Kim's mom, not some prisoner trapped behind a jail cell. Not some prisoner unable to help her daughter. Love her daughter. LOVE HER DAUGHTER.

She hit her shoulder and side, rolling too fast to catch her breath. But she scrambled up, mind spinning, realizing that she lived.

She picked up her feet and raced behind her neighbor's fence, effectively shielding herself from anyone's view. Then she ran across Marjie's yard. Marjie's Yorkshire terrier, Scott, looked at her plainly. Recognizing her, he let her pass without comment. He lay on the porch outside. But when the noise at her house escalated, and their dogs began to bark, he stood up and growled.

Mrs. Reid knew she needed transport. She raced to the other side of Marjie's house, thinking of stealing the older woman's Toyota. No. Gas guzzler. Too slow.

She passed the house and ran behind the next one, knowing that her other neighbor was out of town. His backyard was a mess, filled with old rotting junk. But she navigated it quickly, finding a path. Then she slid to a stop, almost running into the next neighbor's yard. His large, letter-man jacket (from his high school days) lay abandoned on his deck. It was dry, mercifully under the eave when storms hit. And it was alone. She stared at it, knowing she really only had minutes left before they found an empty house.

Then she snatched it, and threw it on. Heart pounding, she ran to the opposite side of his residence, also hidden from the street. There she pulled away the old wheelbarrow that blocked the storm cellar. There was no padlock as she let herself in, careful to shut the doors behind her. Her block of neighbors all knew each other and trusted one another. Block watch had pretty much kept thieves at bay. All of these little things rained into her conscious as she thanked them, over and over. They were blessings, every single of them. Helping her at this very moment. Then she climbed down the steep steps into total darkness, her eyes useless. She couldn't think about falling.

She placed her hand on the cold, concrete wall and kept it there as she stepped forward. Every second she took felt like an hour. By now, they knew she was missing. She continued onward, gritting her teeth a bit. Where was it? Was she a few inches off? Then, with a muffled gasp, she stumbled over a set of wooden steps and almost cried aloud in joy. She picked herself up and ran up, opening the door that led to the rest of the house. His keys lay in a wicker basket next to the sink. Without stopping to think she grabbed them and strode towards the garage. Sweat poured down her back…

She flipped the switch on and looked around. There. The bulky form under the brown tarp.

Tom's Ducati.

Her hands slipped more than once, the sweat soaking into the skin, and she bit back an unprofessional scream. What had she always counseled her unruly daughter? Keep your head.

She finally managed to reveal the Ducati. The heavy folds of tarp sank with a hiss to the ground. With knowing eyes, she gazed over its tank.

It was completely full.

Mrs. Reid was so scared, grateful, and pumped up all at once, that she felt like crying. She swung around to look for the garage door button and her heart sank.

It was nowhere in plain sight.

In the distance, a long wail of sirens touched the cold air.

A brick of doubt settled into her stomach...

Then, at that very moment, something inside her jacket moved. Linda fell. She had jumped so fast and had tried running backward without success. But she reached into her pocket to pull out the cretin, only to realize that it was her cell phone. It's screen lit up and vibrated again. She registered that it was a text. Then she saw who it was from. Her heart warming, her love overflowing, she slid her finger across the screen to unlock it and read.

I love you mom. I just wanted to tell you that. Hope your day is going well.

~K girl

It must have been sent earlier that morning. But her stupid phone caught it now.

But, it was all the encouragement she needed.

Linda took a deep breath and scanned the walls. She noticed something she hadn't seconds before. A broom handle was hiding the edge of a panel. Retracing her steps, she closed the door leading into the garage. Then she walked over to the broom, deliberately put it down, and pressed the button underneath.

The garage began to creak open. She settled on the Ducati in a flash, inserted the key, and found the helmet just in time.

With the letter-man jacket on, the helmet on, the garage door closing behind her, Linda left demurely as Tom Ranson.

Her neighbor.