Madi here. Sorry for the lateness. I've been busy. A lot of stuff has gotten out of hand and I'm really, really trying to figure it out. On another note, I've watched Rise of the Guardians! It's amazing! I'm in love with Jack Frost, and I regret nothing!

~ THEMESONGS ~

I am Not a Robot ~ Marina and the Diamonds

Bleeding Out ~ Imagine Dragons

.M.I.W.

16. Willing it Away

I glared at my bleeding knuckles, wiping my face with my free hand in order to force away the wetness of remaining tears. My body was still shaking with pent-up anger and fear and sadness and any other emotion that couldn't be placed into words.

I didn't know what I should have been more terrified about: the fact that the dream had become so much more real and inviting that I'd woken up with every intention of ending my life, or the fact that Claire had seen me in the… state I had been in.

She was only trying to help. Something I would have done with any character in distress. Was that what I was becoming? Another angst-case that was going to be forced into the spotlight of feelings and emotions?

God, what the hell had I done? What the fuck had I become? This wasn't me. I wasn't the real Madison Verdantia. I wasn't the Madi a year or so ago that had swung a rusty tree-limb cutter at a demon and dove into a portal. I wasn't the same naïve girl that had laughed with werewolves and whacked off the heads of vampires. I no longer felt the lightness that I did when soaring through the air with wings that seemed to have sprouted from my own soul.

I felt heavy, dark, horrible. I felt like I was dying.

And I shouldn't feel like that. I should feel grateful for the days I have left, because there aren't going to be a lot of them.

I pulled myself to my feet, finally finding the strength in my legs to carry me to my bathroom. I walked into the small room, grabbing a washcloth hanging innocently on one of the towel racks. I turned on the faucet and put the rag underneath the arctic water.

After effectively soaking the rag, I pressed it to the split knuckles on my right hand, the relief from the constant burning instantaneous. After clearing up the bleeding, I would get the gauze under the counter and bandage myself up properly. Maryse would be pissed if I got blood on her carpet, which (knowing her) would probably lead to some sort of brawl. That would be a little hilarious.

On that note, I should be enjoying the sight of battle like I used to – not feeling pointless like I had in the Church of Talto (seriously, what was that shit?). I should be making Jace as happy as possible (because that kid has issues, and doesn't deserve me piling on more from my end), drinking chai tea with Magnus, teaching Alec the fundamentals of music and Isabelle the fundamentals of cooking.

I should be telling Claire about my adventures instead of hiding them for myself. Because, seriously? Who is going to hear about them besides her? I should be teaching her how to punch properly, because even if she isn't going to be a Rogue, self-defense is important.

My death isn't going to be a bunch of bull shit and melodrama. None of my friends deserve that. I don't deserve that.

For living seventeen years, I've had a great run. I had lived in three states and traveled across half of the country for the sake of it. I knew how to break dance, and could dance better than my fellow Caucasians. And then, let's not forget becoming a Rogue. It's not every day you can say you've traveled worlds, wielded magical swords, and chopped the heads off of vampires and demons. I did things that I realized I loved – something most people would never really get the chance to do.

After wrapping the gauze around my hand, I walked out of the bathroom and into my room. All of the lights were off, only the lights outside in the city filtering through my window and lighting my dark room.

With a frown, I noticed my swords were lying in a clattered heap near the foot of my bed where I'd thrown them earlier. I kneeled down and scooped them up. This wasn't how you handled fellow comrades – even if you were pissed and sad and scared. And even with their crappy treatment, I could still feel their hum of life at my touch.

"I'm sorry." I said, setting them on the trunk at the foot of my bed.

I walked towards my rucksack sitting innocently on a small wire chair near the window. I reached in and pulled out my carton of cigarettes (the last) and my lighter. A Russian brand of cigarette – menthol – that had given off a bitter yet smooth flavor with every drag. High quality, expensive stuff that made me practically starve for any chance to grab a smoke. I had become addicted since coming to this world, even though I tried to pretend I wasn't.

A weak way to mask my fear. There had to be a better way to deal with it.

Because of that, I dropped it into the small garbage bin next to the chair, and decided bed was the next best course of action. It was almost four in the morning now.

And if I had to deal with another nightmare, it would give me an excuse to experiment my newfound source of enlightenment.

.M.I.W.

Fwuuahh-snip!

The practice dummy's neck was snaked within the silvery grasp of Claire's whip. The girl jerked the taught cable back before charging past the falling mannequin, giving another harsh tug that severed the poor thing's head off.

Not bad.

"A little clumsy," I noted, "but it'll do when you're in a jam."

Claire smiled a little, pulling the whip back into its coils. "That's the plan. Just wait, I'm going to be so awesome during this fight."

I smirked. "I'm sure you'll try to be at least, Rookie."

"Hey, this is my second world." She said. "I think we can skip the 'Rookie' business, can't we?"

I pretended to think about it, walking around her towards the training dummy, flipping my swords to find my balance. "I don't know… The nickname's growing on me."

It was like I could hear her roll her eyes. I let out a slight laugh before kicking up the dummy to its upright position. I pulled back my swords, getting accustomed to their weight in my hands again, before flying forward –

"Look, you're going to the Ironworks party, right?" A strong, female voice spoke up. It echoed throughout the training room.

And threw off my focus.

I ended up with a finished, pathetic clip at the dummy's chest as I stumbled past it. Claire snickered behind me, and I turned to glare at her, then focused on whoever had just started driving the plot of this story.

Isabelle was trotting into the room, nodding to both Claire and I. She began to move towards us, a phone at her ear.

"We can meet there and talk next steps." She continued with her phone conversation. "And I'll tell my mom about what's been going on with you. They're already investigating the Church of Talto, so they can add that to the info pile."

"Info piles?" I asked. "I do love a good info pile. Is that Simon? I say hi."

Isabelle nodded to me, then focused on the call. "And bring Jordan with you. You can use a bodyguard. And Madi says hi."

"She'll also be on guard duty." I said a bit louder so Simon would hear me over the call.

Isabelle suddenly frowned. "I'll talk to her. See you there."

She hung up then, looking at both Claire and I.

"What did Simon need to talk about?" Claire asked.

"Simon bit some mundane, and then she turned out to be kidnapped by someone and killed later. Apparently they did it because he didn't go to the Church of Talto."

Claire gave me a look that I knew very well. A look that said that the end was hurtling towards us without any warning whatsoever. I knew that look because I sometimes saw it on my face whenever I looked in a mirror during any given escapade. Books. They really are a roller coaster if you read them carefully enough. All rise, and then at the last possible second, a steep fall.

I decided to keep my voice neutral. "Simon bit a mundane?"

Isabelle huffed. "Yes. The idiot didn't even realize he could've broken the Law."

"I'm sure he didn't mean to." Claire defended.

"Well of course not," Isabelle snapped, "but he's still an idiot."

I nodded in agreement (hoping both sides would take it as me agreeing with them), carefully putting my twin blades back in their scabbards. "Oh well. That's over now. He's not going to do it again willingly. I don't even think he did it on purpose this time."

"Of course he did!" Isabelle snapped. "He bit her!"

"He's not human, Iz." I responded coolly. "He's a being that's going to live on pure instinct forever. The desire to feed will always be his first priority. And he was running out of supply. I can't believe you of all people didn't notice he was suffering."

The Shadowhunter gaped at me, anger sparking in her eyes.

I shrugged. "Just saying."

Claire took a nervous step nearer behind me, probably as a precaution. Or she generally thought a fight between Nephilim and Rogue was about to break out. At that point, I kind of wondered as well.

"I don't know where you come from, but this is how our system works." Isabelle retorted. "I thought you knew that when you came here. We're warriors, not peace negotiators."

"Fine." I replied shortly.

"Anyways." She said, continuing to give me a wary look. I looked away. "I was wondering if you guys wanted to go dress shopping."

I perked up at that, a smile beginning to grow.

Claire looked genuinely distressed. "But we don't –"

I bumped my shoulder against her upper arm, effectively tipping her a little off balance and shutting her up.

"I like this idea." I said. "Claire, I think we can take this opportunity to relive Arizona."

"Arizona…?" Her face lit up with realization. But not exactly in a good way. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me –"

"He who does not prevent a crime only encourages it." I replied loftily, walking towards the door.

Claire sighed wearily. "Seneca."

"Correct."

"What are you guys talking about?" Isabelle demanded.

"Just old memories." I grinned, looking at Claire. "So, Rookie? Are you going to try to prevent me?"

She gave a small, daring smile at that. Small, but daring.

.C.I.W.

Aside from barking orders and pushing me harder than ever in training, Madi hardly had spoken to me since the nightmare, or what could've been a nightmare. It was hard to tell, since I was still kept in the dark about most things.

I trusted Madi, but I couldn't deny that I wished she'd be more open with me. After all, I was dragged into this. Like it or not, we were now partners in crime, brothers in arms, a team, you name it. It was time we got off the need-to-know basis.

Or at least, I thought it would be. But then at one o'clock in the morning, I heard my door opening. I immediately woke up at that, only to see Madi walk briskly into my room in full gear. I raised an eyebrow.

I yawned. "Going somewhere?"

"Yes," Madi said, turning around and rummaging through my drawers. "And so are you. Put on your gear."

Without even waiting for my reaction, she threw the gear at my face. I clawed it off my head. "What, why?" I sputtered, scrambling out of my bed.

"Well, in case you've forgotten, we've been invited to the Ironworks party and neither of us have particularly formal wear." Madi explained, watching me with a slightly bemused expression as I hopped around on the floor trying to get my gear on.

Was she serious? I knew that she said we were going to steal dresses, but now? I thought she was kidding!

"Madi, it's one in the morning," I protested, tripping over a pantleg and falling over. I never said I was the most coordinated. Madi choked back a laugh. "Shut up, gear is really hard to get on. Anyway, I don't think any shops are open this time of night."

Don't say stealing, don't say stealing –

"Unless you have money for nice clothes, then we're going to have to steal –"

She said stealing.

"– and you're going to have to get over yourself. Gear makes it harder for us to be seen. It's harder for me to throw up a glamour over normal clothes."

Wait.

"You can use glamour?" I asked.

Madi shrugged.

I sighed in defeat. "Are we hitting up Pac Sun again?" I said, remembering our adventures in Maximum Ride.

"Please," Madi snorted. "This is New York, and it's a wedding party. We'll be classy as fuck."

.C.I.W.

About twenty minutes of scoping out promising stores (Madi was apparently a picky shopper), we had managed to pick the lock to a little shop full of vintage and Indie dresses. Well, Madi picked the lock, I watched in slight amazement as she did it.

Sometimes this just didn't seem real.

The sound of a door opening brought me back to what was happening, my eyes widening as the door gently swung open with a breeze.

"Ah, beautiful." Madi grinned, then ducked inside.

The store was a lot smaller than it looked from the outside. Dresses were everywhere, and there was only one dressing room in the back. The store was dim, the only light coming from the streetlamps outside.

Madi sauntered ahead of me, already pulling off dresses off of the racks. "Choose your weapon, Rookie." She called over her shoulder.

Ten minutes later, both of us with dresses stacked on our arms, I waited outside of the dressing room as Madi tried on her dresses.

It was actually pretty fun, veto-ing and maybe-ing the dress selections Madi had made as she came out in option after option. Out shopping with my friend. It was normal, almost disturbingly so.

"How's this one?" She asked, emerging in a blue strapless trimmed with lace. I cocked my head to the side, analyzing.

"It's a nice silhouette, but not your color. I vote no," I concluded. "Next!"

It took no less than eleven dresses to find the right one. When Madi pulled the door open to her dressing room, it was with a flare that made the dress twirl out, a daring grin on her face. Always the entertainer.

The dress was amazing, though. Strapless, a deep purple that reached just above her knees. She sashayed out of the dressing room to look in the mirror.

"I know, you don't have to tell me, I'm fabulous, right?" She said, striking her showstopper pose in front of her reflection.

I smiled. It was absolutely amazing.

Madi gently took the sides of her dress and fluffed them out, her arrogance fading as she looked at herself. Something about her face then looked like she was hiding something. What that something was, I didn't think I'd ever know.

"You better choose that one, because it's actually perfect." I said.

She turned then, shifting immediately out of her weird funk. "Oh I know, trust me," Madi said, ushering me into the dressing room. "Your turn."

Madi was blunt with her opinions, usually just making a face that seemed to ask why I'd ever even chosen to live when I came out with a dress she didn't like. When a dress was really bad she even made a slashing motion across her neck. So when I found my dress, I knew.

"Wow."

It was black and strapless, sweetheart bodice and a flared skirt. The really beautiful part though, was the embroidery. The bodice was covered in a gold, green, and red peacock with beaded accents. It was gorgeous, if I do say so myself. I'm usually not so vain, but hot damn. I looked good.

To hell with my moral compass, I was stealing this dress.

Once we made our 'purchases,' we left the store with everything relatively intact. Except for the lock. Instead of successfully unlocking the door, Madi had broken the lock. She had scribbled down a note that apologized for the disturbance, and something else I didn't see. Madi folded it quickly and jammed it in the crevice of the door and we started walking back to the Institute.

"Madi," I asked.

"Mm-hmm?"

"We're going to look so hot."

"Damn straight, Rookie."

.M.I.W.

Really missed the old Madi. Thankfully she's coming back, I kind of need a tough character right now.