A/N HOLA ME 'LIL AMIGOS! Crash Baby here, and I have been editing this chapter for FOREVER. I'm Sorry it took so long, but I uploaded it intending to edit it, but somehow ended up rewriting it. What you're re about to read is the way my very best and damn near professional writing sounds. When my writing isn't crammed in a small space of time and I have the chance to really think deeply about what I'm writing, this is what tends to be the outcome. But guess what…LAST WEEKEND I WENT TO MY FIRST EVER CONCERT AND IT WAS MCR! I SWEAR TO GOD IT WAS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING! Since then my muse really sparked up again, and viola! Another chapter has been born! Anyway, this chapter is a real rollercoaster, so buckle your seatbelt! It's gonna be a bumpy ride!

Disclaimer: as much as I whine and plead *whispering* I don't own My Chem.

ENJOY!

I flicked my bangs from my eyes. That haircut I had wanted had worked out in the end, and my locks were shorter than before, but still long enough that they reached my chest. I had wisps of hair dangling over my eyes, which were, by the way, focused on the punching bag in front of me. Little beads of sweat formed on my hairline and around my neck. With every swipe at the weighed down bag I became increasingly strong. My strength had heightened dramatically since my introduction to the gym, and my hunger to physically be as capable as I was mentally was being fulfilled, leaving satisfaction (and soreness) in its stead.

My friendship with Ray/Jet had tightened despite all odds. I'd thought he would resent me because of my persistence during out little chat. But the fact of the matter was that we were a bit closer because of that one bit of knowledge we now shared. There were moments of tension and slight friction as we were reminded of what it had taken for us to gain that common ground, but at the end of the day, we were friends, constantly having deep discussions about the morality of the world around us, and debating what could have been.

My ponytail swished, and some of my hair hit me in the face and even ended up in my mouth. Another punch. I thought of Bea and her old sassy aura. The Dracs, and their emotionless masks. The punching bag swung feebly as my fist just barely made contact with it. Bea, with her dirty blonde hair and amber eyes. Her spidery eyelashes, angular face and seemingly fragile figure. I swiped at the Drac decoy desperately. I couldn't hit it. I couldn't focus if my life depended on it. God, how I was letting Bea down.

My back slid down the nearest wall, and I cupped my face in my hands. I can't do it. I can't keep up the charade. I'm no warrior, I couldn't take down anyone for my life, let alone people like the BL/ind who I have history with. Tears welled up in my eyes as I chastised myself. I can't. I'm fucking weak.

Tears fell down my cheeks uncharacteristically, and I hated myself during every seconds of it. 'Weakling, weakling!' taunted the voice of my conscience. Normally I would have ignored them, but at that exact moment they were all that I could hear. What was the use in fighting it when they were right? I let the tears fall. No control, no pride, no dignity, and no sugarcoating. And in that moment of complete darkness, I questioned all that I had, and infect the only thing I had: my family. My killjoys.

Did I believe I actually belonged here? With people so brave, unlike me? How could I actually believe I belonged here? The questions came at me and found no end, and each of them I could not answer without trembling increasingly violently. I cried harder than ever: I was considering my validity among the only thing I had, and the only people in this world who I loved. And the more I thought about it, the more outrageous I seemed in this picture. Just a common house cat among white tigers.

Just when things were about to plummet to a whole new low, a voice spoke. I didn't even need to look up to know that voice.

"What's wrong Crash?" asked the voice, saddened at even knowing I was upset. When there was no reply, a pair of feet made their way to me. I sighed, and it rasped in my throat.

"Crash…what's eating at you?" Poison asked. His hand landed on my shoulder, and tears welled up in my eyes as I considered the idea of leaving him behind. Packing my bags and sneaking out in the middle of the night, and never risking a second glance. Never being able to look into his hazel eyes again and fear I'd disappoint him or let him down.

"It's nothing…," I whispered hoarsely, which visibly contradicted my statement, "I'm fine…"

I sounded insistent. Like I was trying to convince someone other than him.

Myself.

Far, far away from here…where no one knows my name. Where I belong. Where I am of the same magnitude as the people around me. Where there are no heroes.

Where I might as well be dead.

"Sure you are," he said sarcastically. He opened his arms to me, and welcomed me into a hesitant embrace.

It remained this way for a few minutes as I sniffled and tears mingled with hair that had since clung to my face. All the while Poison patiently stroked my hair, ready for whatever it was I threw at him. Even something like this.

"Crash, do you want to talk about it?" he asked, more than a little concerned.

I sighed. Did it make sense to try to explain something so complicated?

"I don't know…" I answered groggily as he ran his fingers through my matted hair, "it's kind of hard to explain," I concluded soberly.

"Hit me with your best shot."

"I…fuck…I…- Poison, do I really belong here?" I asked recklessly, my voice broken into shards. My question seemed to have caught him off guard, and stunned him into silence. He held me mutely and tears welled up in my eyes once again. Was that a "no"?

"Crash…," he sighed gruffly, rubbing my back, "why are you here?"

Chicken shit. Where is he going with this?

"In this room…?"

I forced my mind to recall the things I had long since packed away for safe keeping.

"What's going to happen out there?"

I let my mind grasp the memory, and it did so with additional bitterness.

"We're going to fight for what we believe in and hope we kick ass," he had smirked. The memory was slightly fuzzy in my brain.

"Yeah, um, in order to kick ass I need to know how to fight…," I had drawled like an idiot. And there it was: the prologue to my training.

"Well, because I wanted to be able to kick ass as well as you guys…," I croaked. Because let's face it, I suck.

He heard the broken note in my voice, and immediately seemed to correctly hunch at my thoughts.

"…So we could win the fight against BLI."

He frowned and refrained from straying the topic at hand.

"And what led you to that point?" he asked.

I searched through the filing cabinet in my brain.

"Have I ever told you guys that you are crazy?" I'd asked, my face probably as bright as my lipstick.

Jet smiled.

"Only a couple hundred times a day, why?"

I'd grinned.

"Because I've never been so happy to be surrounded by insanity," I had smiled honestly.

The silence had closed in on all of us like an envelope as I hated myself for saying anything. Poison had been the first to say something.

"You know what Crash?" he had asked me.

"What?" I had responded, while trying not to sound on edge.

"I love you, you little kook. We're just as happy to have you here as you to have us," he'd cooed.

"When I was talking to you, you called me a little kook," I smiled slightly through my tears.

He arched an eyebrow.

"I believe there was more to it than that," he said.

"I love you, you little kook. We're just as happy to have you here as you to have us."

I nodded solemnly. He patted my back.

"And how'd you come to that?" he asked. I reached into the depths of my memory.

"Ghoul explained to me what happened to the world, because Bea never did..."

"And before that, way before that," he urged. I closed my eyes.

"I ended up with you guys, and freaked the fuck out," I said tearfully. I'd had a bitch fit and pushed away the only people who could have understood me. 5 weeks of sneaking around in my own home and being an idiot.

"And where were you before that?" Poison asked. My eyes opened in a split second and I pulled away from Poison's embrace.

"You know this already! All of it!" I said incredulously. He closed his eyes and patted my back.

"Bear with me Crash. Where were you before you ended up with us?" he asked.

I looked up at him, a Zen and patient image. I imagined this is what the face of God looked like if he existed. I mean, if he existed, why would he let this happen to our world? But still, Poison was the face of something godly and optimal. Which is why it would have killed me to leave him like nothing else.

"I fought alongside Bea. We fought the Dracs and the BL/ind," I said plainly. He pulled me into a loose hug, and left me questioning what was happening here. What was I missing?

"You did the same as us. You fought the bad guys, and both of you were well known for it. Notorious," he said eyeing me, "Lad- Bea left you in our care because she knew that you belong with us," he said, rubbing my back. I shook my head, and my ponytail whipped against my neck. Tears of frustration and pent up secrecy burned in my eyes. I hate this, I hate this.

"Bea - Lady Leach was the real hero. I was just her sidekick," I murmured. And in my heart I knew it was true. I'd only been an accessory, the perfect less than to my heroic older sister.

"No,no,no,no,no," he soothed, "you fought, you still did so because you knew it was right, while other people played along. You still do," he said, stroking my hair. I pressed my cheek to his chest, feeling safe and trapped at the same time: he saw right through me so much that is both scared and fascinated me

"Poison...when I see the damned punching bag I can't think straight...it's too much...," I said before slumping altogether. He brought his lips to my ear.

"No one talks about it - but that's normal," he whispered.

I let this confession sink in, but didn't let it go unnoticed. I pressed my cheek to his chest and shut my eyes for a second, trying to imagine my guys being overwhelmed at the thought at the Dracs/ BL/ind. It didn't seem possible, them being vulnerable. For me it was easily the norm, and I could accept that. Accept that at some moments I was weak, and open to fire. But these guys? Not a chance it hell. It just didn't seem like anything that could be possible. They were gun slinging, quirky and rebellious. They were the "we love you even if you are bizarre sometimes" family I'd always wanted, and could just as quickly fire their guns at you as they could flip a switch. So to hear they could be just as vulnerable as me, the weird, emotionally unstable girl with a thing about abandonment? That's about the biggest bombshell you could have thrown at me.

He rubbed my back as the occasional tear slipped.

"How do you know?" I asked. He shrugged, and took a moment in silence to think.

"It's just there, Crash. When we started off as this," he gestured to himself, "we didn't talk much. We practiced but gave up quickly. And we don't train as much because of it. You could just tell."

He buried his head into my shoulder, his fire hydrant red hair splaying and brushing against my cheek. In this moment he needed me just as much I, him. For once I didn't feel tiny. I treasured the moment as though it was the last I had to live.

Neither of us said anything. It wasn't an unsettling silence: it was comfortable silence. The kind that you could practically wrap around yourself like a blanket. The only person who I'd ever felt so thankful for was Bea. She'd been my guiding light, and my teacher as to how to survive this distorted world. But Poison was something more than just a teacher: there was nothing studious about how we treated each other. He was my guardian without the usual stiffness.

He patted my back, and I clung to him for dear life, because I knew if I let go I'd only collapse again. That was the way things had a tendency to go with me: depend on people, have them help me keep myself together. The moment they step away I'm back to being vulnerable. One big never ending circle that I knew was part of human nature, but felt made me weak. And in a world where one had to fend for one's self, it made me downright pathetic.

"Crash...it'll be okay. You can get through this. You might end up like us, and stagger a little bit every time you come in here, but you can do it. We'll help you if we have to. But don't give up on yourself," he said. It didn't come out sounding like an option; it came out sounding like a demand. A well meaning demand, yes; but still a whole hearted demand. I nodded, flattered that he was so worried about me. And at the same time I knew that I needed to hear it.

"Poison, I was thinking...Bea and I didn't come down here alone...you see, me and Bea were transported along with an Orphanage."

A/N CLIFFHANGER! I know you guys probably hate me for this right now but (famous last words) I'm going to try to update faster than this in the long run. I love writing for you guys and knowing that you guys can appreciate my nerdiness. Because let's face it, I think my creative writing teacher would look at me as though I were insane if she ever read this. I love you guys. I hope you haven't all abandoned me because I've been taking my time with this. I really never meant for this to get dragged on the way it did and being something I put on this back burner. I've been busy, but still. Sooo….what the hell do you think of this incredibly emotional chapter? Predictions? Thoughts on Crash and Poison's relationship? Anything you want to hear about or know about? (Like details of my world of California 2019). Crash need confidence? (I was like her when I wrote that and since have gotten better, just a heads up that I'm not mopey anymore.) Suggestions? I want to know, anything at all. Even if you don't have much to say, please post something, I could use some love right now because i want to know there are at least some people who haven't given up on this fanfic. sooo….REVIEW!