A/N: I know this is shorter than usual, but it felt nice to end there. I also learned during this chapter that legit anger is a lot harder to write than sadness. Not sure how it turned out... Also, I think Mitchie might be a little too cheesy here. Eh. I'm not terribly sure.

I am completely floored. I don't even properly know what rape even means: I know that God punished the citizens of Sodom and Gomorrah for raping the angels, and that it involves some form of sex, but since I don't really know much about sex, that doesn't help much. All I can really distinguish from her horrified gaze is that it is probably one of the most terrifying, torturous experiences on this planet. Probably even worse than the whip.

"Mitchie... I don't know where to start with this," I confess, ashamed to be so out of my league when it comes to helping her understand all this.

I get a sigh in return, but I keep waiting. She has more to say, I can tell, though it might take her a while to spit it out. This experience is what pushed her into silence to begin with. She stares at me, eyes wide, like she so wants to speak to me but can't quite manage it. "It's OK- whenever you're ready, I'll be here. Unless of course I've already left for Cascadia to fuck up the ass of every single guy there."

She giggles happily at my sentence in a complete change of pace. "I like it when you curse."

Now I'm giggling, too. This bipolar conversation is almost perfect for the emotions we've experienced over the course of our relationship. "No one's ever said that to me before. Usually I get stony glances."

"No, really." Mitchie's still giggling as she says this. "It reminds me that you're not like everyone else around here. And especially not like... not like Rodney." Rodney. The name makes me upset all over again. I wish I could get a face on this guy, something to identify Rodney. Something I can picture when I pummel my fist into my pillow tonight.

I hug her close to me, hoping to never stop. "Rodney, huh? I think I can kick the ass of some pansy named Rodney."

"I know you're trying to help, Alex, but can we please... can we just be quiet?" she almost begs of me. "For a while, at least?" In response, I just scoot even more into her body, adjusting our position so that she's sitting between my legs, head resting peacefully on my chest. I look down at her, beautiful with her eyes shut and breathing deep. Pressing a kiss to her temple, I allow my own anger to calm down with the slow tapping she's doing on my hand that's under hers, both of them resting on her stomach. She falls asleep in my arms after a couple of minutes, but clearly isn't having peaceful dreams.

Mitchie twitches like a rabbit and squirms like a baby as she continues to drift off into this slumber world. I can guess what's going on in her mind, but I can't do much about it except restrain her and whisper in her ear, which seems to work some of the time. I know she wants me to be quiet. I just can't help it when it comes to her; every nerve in my body screams at me to do something for her, anything at all. I'm trying, I'm trying so hard. But somehow I know it's not enough; there should be something more, I think. Another level to make her feel more comfortable. I just don't know how to get there, and it brings me back into an intensely frustrated state again. Everything is so monumentally fucked up because some idiots decided that torture and brainwashing was a good start for a society.

And then I start to get profoundly outraged at every goddamned thing in this worthless, piece of shit compound: Rodney, Rosslyn, Todd, the Shepherds, the Mother, the Father, my parents, Justin, Nate-

It takes everything in me not to just scream out at the top of my lungs, not to punch the living daylights out of everyone here. I can't stand it anymore. I can't fucking stand it! Mitchie and Max don't deserve all this pointless, worthless shit they've had to deal with their entire lives; it's all gone to fucking hell, though I don't think it really was anywhere else. I feel the world crashing down on me, two painfully different experiences tearing this night to pieces and I'm not sure how much more of this I can handle. I desperately want to be there, stronger than what we're fighting against, for them. How much longer I have the ability to do that is a mystery. This place is finally taking its toll on me- I've been able to get by because I care about nothing. But now I have two people to look out for and this is just too goddamned fucked up for me! Where does Alex Russo fit into all this shit, all these lives? What the fuck am I to these people? A lover, a protector, a sister, a friend? Well, that's just dandy, but then what am I really? How much am I worth? Shit, is what. Max, Mitchie- they'd be better off with someone who understands humans as more than just things. I don't know how to deal with any of this! All I ever manage to do is screw shit up; that's it. I don't know how to help well enough to make a difference. I can't be all those things- I've never been anything but an unsuccessful rebel. Useless, pointless, worthless.

I don't even notice that there are tears streaming down my face until Mitchie stirs and asks, "Alex? Why are you crying?"

"I'm not good enough," I find myself saying. "I'm not fucking good enough."

"Not good enough for what?" she prods quietly.

I can't quite contain my emotion. "For you! For Max! For everybody!" She knows exactly what to do, rolling away from me so that I can stand and pace. "You'd be much better off with someone else, someone who knows what's going on, someone who knows how to give a shit about other people-"

"Alex!" Her voice is louder than I've ever heard before, and even though it's not as loud as mine, it feels like a sweeping clap of thunder has just passed through the room.

I turn around quickly, my movements flashing like the lightning. "What? You can't tell me that you or Max wouldn't be better off with someone else! I don't know a fucking thing about this kind of shit, nothing! There's sure as hell someone who could be doing a better job than this! Hurting Max for nine years, freaking you out, getting you whipped! Yeah- that's a hell of a job I'm doing. I'm just a rebel, and I'm bringing you both down with me."

She keeps her distance, looks at the floor, assumes a very defensive body position, but her voice resounds loud and strong with the tone of a bell. "Rebels always have the biggest hearts... otherwise they wouldn't keep fighting. And you always know that whatever they do, they're going to fight for it because they know nothing else. You know nothing but to keep fighting, and I know that that's what I want, what I need: someone to fight for me when I can't. There is no one more suited to that than you, Alex."

I turn away as she lifts her head; I still feel unworthy of the praise, and there are still unanswered questions. "But then what does that make me? A rebel? A guardian? A warrior? There's so much I can be, so much. I just don't know which one it is!" I angrily lash out, kicking at the bed and ripping the sheets off it. I chuck them at the floor where they land in a noiseless, tangled heap.

"Maybe you're just indescribable." I check her face to make sure that she's not joking, that this is a serious request. "Really... you're something else, Alex. Different. But different, in the end, is what allows you to keep on going."

"You think so?"

She smiles a watery smile, and I know that she realizes how important this is to me. My identity has been so warped in these past months that Mitchie has been here, with everything from friendship to romance to a real sibling bond. "I guess I can't be only one thing anymore. Or rather I'm discovering that there's more to me than I thought there was. It's scary."

"Trust me; you're not alone." We don't say anything more to each other as our eyes slowly lift off the carpet and meet. While the general motion is gradual, the actual connection is such a snap that it feels like we both know the exact moment to lift our heads subconsciously. Mitchie's not smiling anymore, but actually looking rather broken, and a pang of guilt pierces me like a sword at how self-centered I've been all night.

"Mitchie, I'm sorry I gave you all of my issues. I know tonight was about you and Rodney and what he did to you, and not about me at all-"

"Alex. Tomorrow is about Rodney- I know I can't talk about it tonight. It's... too much." And in the dim light of a waning moon, I watch with bated breath as one single tear flows tragically down her cheek. The indication that she's too far gone to waste a full session of tears dwelling on this rips my heart out harder and more thoroughly than a total breakdown would have done. "Alex?"

"Yeah?"

She's almost holding her breath, I can see, like she knows it might make it worse if she says what's clearly on the tip of her tongue. "I really want to kiss you right now, but-"

"I know." Without another word (because we've had enough of those for one night), I grab her hand, squeezing it tightly and then let it drop after about five seconds. I don't want to hurt her anymore. Carefully and slowly, I make my way over to my bed, and I know that when she doesn't follow, something in her that had been mending the entire time she was silent has fractured again and is on the verge of shattering. I see it in her face, her eyes, her shakes as she goes to her own bed silently and slips in without a noise. For a while, I watch her slowly drift off to sleep and only after it has become painfully apparent that she's not coming back to me tonight do I let my eyelids droop, making sure to leave half the bed open just in case.