Disclaimer: I do not own pokémon. I do however own the OC's in this fic.

Author's Note:Not much to comment on. Summer has begun, and I plan to hop from fic to fic…whatever perks my interest. It strikes me that that's probably what every other fic author does, but heck, I've always been slow to notice the status quo. I don't know how productive this summer will be…my available hours on the computer have been reduced to a repulsive three and a half hours a day. To give you an idea of how short that is for me, well…two years ago, I had a grand total of six hours…then, more recently, five. Now this. Supposedly, it's going to get me out of the house more, but the truth is, I really don't want to go out unless I have a reason. I want this summer to gather myself up again…not get pushed into a situation that just arouses more discomfort.

(Sighs.) Well, enough of my ranting. You all came for the story, so here it is! Things are becoming clearer, slowly but surely….

Previously:Inviting herself along for the trip, Cassandra accompanied Mewtwo on his errands. These trips quirked some more intriguing notes of Mewtwo's personality, but in the end, the girl was only so interested. Finding her way into a bar, she tried to stab Mewtwo once more. However, her attempt failed, and while the clone was occupied, she called Giovanni, extending the amount of time she had to murder the creature. Once that was complete, the chase went on to catch her as she rode through the streets. Meanwhile, back in her own apartment, a man visits, musing on what will indeed happen to the girl and her mission.

CHAPTER 6: AMBIVALENCE

Shadows crossed under Cassandra's door, the steps silent and uncertain. The night's angel watched them warily, stiff from emotions she didn't care to analyze. In an attempt to ignore them, she turned her body away from the flickering bar of light, closing her eyes, trying to beckon sleep to her, taunting it with the willingness to forfeit all of herself to it. Yet, it refused to be seduced, and her mind ran with the possibilities of why that male might lurk outside her room, making her stomach clench and churn. Her breath caught with apprehension as the doorknob began to turn…only to be released in a relieved, soundless sigh as it stilled.

He would not enter to this room.

…Would he?

Mewtwo forced himself to stop, not allowing himself to enter the room that no longer belonged to him. He wrestled away the craving that ate away at the edges of his reasonable mind, retracting his paw from the spherical handle that permitted such. This desire to go in was utter idiocy, foolish as a child's curiosity, yet somehow worse in how lacking in innocence it was. The clone convinced himself it was mere wonderment on how the human slept. Was she so hostile when she slumbered, so prepared to lash out at anything she found threatening? Bitter laughter rose in his mind. Well, certainly, if he walked in on her as she rested,hewould surely be considered such! He doubted his own comfort with such an invasion. In fact, in honesty, it would quite disturb him!

With that thought, that warning, in mind, he stepped away, common sense reasserting itself. He could not surrender to what a lesser piece of him wanted! He was above that type of action, beyond it! No. If he had to resort to darker methods to quell this transient insanity, then he would do so. Still, the thought gave him little comfort. Instead, his mind continued to stir chaotically, and he gazed back at her door…hating the man who had ordered his creation with new depth. Had it not been for Giovanni, this perverse situation would not be occurring! Things would be so different…so altered. Recalling something that caused him great pain, he stared at her door, seeming to notice for the first time the way the grain seemed to form a cruel face, mocking him with silent laughter. Aggravated, he teleported into the dawn, merely wanting to be anywhere but his once-haven. Anywhere but home….

There was only so much any being could stand in one day. In chasing after the assassin, his veins flooded with something alike to exhilaration, and in finally catching her…suffice to say that Mewtwo had reached that point. From the roof of a distant cathedral, crouched among the gargoyles, he watched the sun climb above the horizon, attempting to will away his metaphorical heart, hating its beating. It had no use to him, or to anyone else for that matter! Hadn't he learned that well enough? He did not want to be fettered with it…not when it had caused him so much suffering in the past. If he could tear that piece of him from himself, he would gladly do so. Surely, it was the source of what had harmed him. He had expected too much from others, and had paid the price. Solitude, numbness, was always better…!

Still, the sun rose, ignoring his mood, shinning brightly onto the world. His only victory against it was that its warmth and light was unable to penetrate him. He was not supposed to walk in its golden glow anyhow…that too, had only burned him. He belonged to the shadows…to the cold. To nothingness….

Hours later, his so-called "guest" awoke. The clone, her target, was yet absent…as she emerged from the room she had been given, it was something she could not only see, but feel as well. There was an emptiness to the air, making it somehow clearer, yet disturbing in what it implied. It was noon now. If he wasn't here, it meant he was outside.In the daytime.He was deliberately nocturnal…so why would he leave? Why would he break that habit?

She could not say. However, she didn't doubt it had something to do with the previous night. She recalled it vividly, his appearance before her as she flew along the narrower backstreets on the motorbike she'd hijacked, how she's had to swerve away to avoid him, nearly falling off the vehicle, before finding herself being pulled from it into the air. Without a rider, it continued to veer, within seconds crashing into the nearby stone wall, the front noisily bashing its front into the solid surface, the wheels yet spinning as it collapsed on its side. It was totaled, a marred paint job the least of the damages. She had lamented the loss, before realizing that Mewtwo was holding her, his arms wrapped lightly around her.

Automatically, she had struggled to make him release her, disturbed by his hold, mindless that they were hanging twenty feet in midair. He had done as she'd asked, letting her fall, which had not frightened her until she realized that her wings were still tucked away by her high-tech collar. She let out a short shriek before his powers had caught her again, and then let her fall the last foot to the pavement with a thud. She'd glared up at him, but he didn't appear to see it. Still, she could have sworn his eyes were gleaming in the silent smirk he sometimes wore.

Jerk.

(Ready to return?) He had asked her.

"Whatever…I suppose I don't have any choice in the matter." She growled, brushing herself off, grimacing at the throbbing of her jarred bones. It was a good thing she did not bruise easily.

(No,) he said flatly, though he still seemed amused. She crossed her arms, irked that she had apparently been the source of his entertainment. Even worse, though, she admitted to herself that she had enjoyed the chase…and had known, even as she'd tried to escape, that she would fail….

Between walking and teleporting, they'd arrived back here…he'd put away the stash of products he'd picked up, while she had retreated to her room, drifting off…only to awake a few hours later to the sounds of someone outside her door. Cassandra shivered at the memory, wondering why he had stood there for almost ten minutes before turning away. He'd almost come in…and what would she have done if he had?

She honestly didn't know. And that made herverynervous.

Yet, a new thought arose from those that aroused discomfort and anger…he was not here. He was god knows how many miles away right now to avoid detection, and unless this was an experiment, a test, which she doubted, she was alone, left to her own devices this day. She had no idea when he would arrive back; but most likely, it would be hours from now, when he could move around freely in the murk. Dangerously, her eyes began to drift to the door that led into the stairway…Mewtwo's warning coming to mind. But how strong could those pokémon be? How strong could their anger be? They had not attacked her before…and most would be asleep now….

This was best chance she'd had for a true escape in over a week. Once she was back to her hotel room, she was as safe as she could be. She could always move from there, and rethink how she could go on with her mission. If she was stuck here however, nothing would be done. She had to find a way out of here, for many more reasons than one. After all, she had no desire for Mewtwo to someday decide to visit her in the dead hours of the night, and do god knows what to her as she slept.

Swiftly, ignoring the questioning gaze of Psyche, she got her things and strode purposefully towards the door.

"Espeon? Es-!" the creature yelped in surprise, "What are you doing? They'll kill you-!"

Cassandra swept her gaze onto the little being, and said, "That's hardly your concern. I have a chance to leave, so I'm taking it. You may tell that clone that like him, I hate being caged."

I'll be back though. I still have a purpose here…a task I must perform before I can return to where I belong.

This she added silently. Considering the feline was psychic, she had no doubt that her message was heard. With that, she pushed open the door, stepping into the shadows and the dust…and closed it behind her. It 'snicked' shut quietly, but the lilac creature who had watched the woman go heard it well enough. It sounded like the second hand of a clock, but instead of keeping track of the time, it seemed to take on an ominous feel, alike to that of a countdown to lethality.

The human never would make it out of the building.

Several hours later, a weary Mewtwo returned, his fur hot from the constant glare of the sun, making him feel ill, his eyes aching for the dim light of evening. He might have teleported back at any time, but he had needed that time to contemplate his situation, to slip into sleep and calm. Immediately, his brow furrowed as he picked up shuffling from the lower floors; and the odor of…blood, was it? At first, he supposed some of the pokémon of the lower floors were perhaps fighting over some inconsequential thing. Then, he spied Psyche by the exit to the stairwell…staring at it silently, still. Sensing his arrival, she turned to him…her expression immediately alerting him to the fact that something dire had occurred.

"Espeon…," she murmured softly, "Mewtwo I…couldn't stop her. She went down there, despite my warning, and…."

Mewtwo did not hear her however. He already knew. Scanning the area, he'd found that the girl was no longer in any of the rooms on this floor. Too much was happening, moving, shifting swiftly in the levels below them to decipher whether she was still there. But the scent of shed blood once again reached him. Pokémon, some of it was, but mostly…human. Some buried piece of him stilled. Underlined with something bitter, he recognized the stench of Cassandra's vital fluid. Nausea and rage clenched his stomach, and he cursed aloud, an act which made his roommate's eyes widen. He rarely, if ever, used profane language, at least not openly spoken. Regardless of what he had said when briefing the teenager on her own situation, he started towards the door, passing Psyche by without a word.

"Espeon?" she asked, incredulous, "What are you doing? Mewtwo, she's probably dead by now! It's been hours since-."

The gaze her turned on her chocked the words from her throat. Deeper than simple stern fury, the expression on his face stilled her, made her inexplicably freeze and wish to back away…the sense of violent foreboding so potent from him that she felt afraid being lashed out at. He gave her no mercy from it; his features did not soften at her fear. Instead, something else other than kindness lurked behind his piercing eyes…something unidentifiable yet, strangely, familiar to her. But before she could try to identify it, he spoke, his voice colder than she could ever recall it being, ordering her to be silent.

(-On this point, do not argue with me. Whether I like it or not, right now, I need her.)

"Espe?" the words came as she recoiled, "But why? Mewtwo, she tried to-!"

(I will be back, Psyche. I cannot promise I will answer your questions then, but until that time, wait.)

Without another word, he left her behind…to go rescue the creature he had said he would never save….

The warning came in the middle of the night. Two naive illusions had ended, replaced fleetly with an unthinkable nightmare. A younger Mewtwo, his body covered in armor, flew to stop the horrendous thing from going as far as was intended…but he already knew it was too late. The messenger had taken far too long to reach him. Hope, such a fragile thing, yet had recently been so abundant, withered and died as a light went out in the dark.

Splatters of crimson fluid speckled the floor, numerous garnet eyes peering his way before darting away from him. The shadows fled back and forth, and he followed the trail swiftly, the echoes of howling and shredding growing louder. The sounds of whimpers and crushing blows seeped into his hearing, and ahead of him, down another few floors, he heard something crash. Shrieking from wild beasts and something, someone yet sentient, reached his ears. His pace quickened….

He arrived at the place, finding it a terrible mockery of what he remembered it to be. Sanctuary had been broken this night, and the floor beneath his feet was saturated by an almost black liquid. Crimson blood so dark it was no longer red. He had heard from someone that the darker it was, the deeper the wound. He searched for the one who held it desperately, trying to find the creature he considered a dear friend. Where…where…?

Where was she? His anger rose as frustration made him lash out at some of the creatures that surrounded him, their hisses scathing in his ears. He continued on the path, through the dust and clumps of torn fur. Floating swiftly down the steps, he threw off the pokémon that sought to tear him down as they realized his intentions. Their claws and teeth sliced down his flesh, making him snarl back at them, flares of psychic energy rebuking them, his tail whipping out to knock them away. Slowly, his mind began to sense the presence of the human girl he had come for. The young woman who had defied his warning and headed straight into a death trap.

Regardless of those who charged out at him from the murk, he pressed on, drawing closer to her. She yet lived…but she seemed weak. Exhausted. This was not surprising…she had spent hours down here, running, fighting, with what weapons to defend herself he knew not. As a dark wolf leapt onto the path before him, his eyes narrowed at its growl, its warning to not go any further. Arrogant beast…he would not be redirected by a creature who could not hope to even break one finger of his paw. As he stepped forward, the canine sprinted towards him. Without pause, the feline side-stepped it, bringing down his fist on its back. As its spine broke in two, it collapsed with a sharp yelp….

(You forget who is master here. You will not get in my way, any of you. The womanbelongs tome!)

The declaration was a betrayal to his present will…but in his haste, Mewtwo ignored the fact that he had meant each word. He left the fallen creature to likely die, feeling nothing. More attacks came, but to him, they all seemed to blur together. Detachment in battle was easily enough achieved for him when facing other pokémon…he had been trained as such, and had lead enough battles between them to make separation from it simple enough. Occasionally, the cuts on his body had to be healed, his body regenerating…annoyances that slowed him and drew other potential enemies with the scent of his blood. He cursed the dark attackers and their abilities, which could reach him with ease, despite his powers. He was thankful for his physical strength, which he had honed on the suggestion of another….

But no. He could not think of the outcome of thatnow!

Finally, the female shrieked ahead of him, a cry of mostly rage…but something alike to futility behind it. The clone raced towards the sound, his feet soaked in blood…much of which was hers. Flame brightened the area ahead, and he caught a glimpse of her in its scorching light. Her hair was plastered to her face, sweat and blood soaking her torn cloths, one arm wrapped about her stomach, clutching at her side. Dark fluid flowed between her talon-like fingers. In her other hand she swung a metal bar, cracking open the skull of the Persian that had leapt at her. There was no fear or despair on her face…just weary acceptance of what was happening to her. Out of the corner of her silvery eyes she saw him approaching, the sight of him distracting her long enough that she hadn't time to prepare before an Arcanine pounced, burying her beneath fangs and fur.

Cassandra screamed…for him.

He found his friend curled in a corner, carrying wounds that were hidden beneath torn folds of fabric. The now fragile creature lay trembling, cold, terrified, and beaten. His heart, not yet locked behind layers of protection, still not utterly betrayed by others, grieved. But anger took hold even faster. Still, even as he shook from fury, he was gentle as he asked who had dared to commit such a crime. The answer spelled out another's death, and after he had brought the being to the medical wing, he was told something that would haunt him for some time to come:

His friend had called to him for rescue from the pain. Of all those that had been pleaded to come, his name had been the longest cried. Though he was not blamed by the victim, he still felt that he had failed his companion utterly.

And later, when the bond between them was forcibly severed, he would do far, far worse to her….

Fury blazed in his muscles, and he tackled the giant dog forcefully off the Team Rocket agent, turning around and bringing down a powerful leg to crack its ribs. It roared in rage and pain, lunging at him, but again he dodged out of the way, the heat of the flames pouring from it jaws searing his fur. He aimed a paw at the creature; the fingers curled like extended claws…his eyes glowed. The surge of psychic-electrical power flashed over it, burning at its insides. It collapsed at his feet, its eyes pale and lifeless. The threat eliminated, he glanced towards Cassandra, crumpled and lying out before him, observing the scratches on her face, the deep gash in her side.

(Whatdo you think you are doing down here-?)

Something came up from behind him, charging into the clone and knocking him to the floor. He felt blades against his second neck, a thing that made the psychic shake with fury. Too late, the creature realized it had made a likely fatal mistake. Mewtwo was weary of having to fight this night, even more weary of being injured because a foolish girl had gone against his warnings like a complete moron, thinking his words unfounded. Rather pissed off, he rolled, twisting around, plunging his fist into the Scyther's insect face, knocking it out cold, crushing the jowl part of its exoskeleton. For good measure, he stood and flung the ball of his tail against its arms blades, cracking the steely plates.

He then stood and strode over to the girl, who was busy picking herself up off the stone floor. Her hand still clutched the iron bar, and he stared at it silently. He could hear other opponents approaching, their claws clicking on the cement, their wings battering the air. Sighing, he crossed his arms, closing his eyes for a moment, erecting a shield around them. Against some of those creatures, it would barely slow them. But it would buy a few more moments.

(Put that down, or I will leave you here.)

She glared at him. "And what makes you think I have any desire to go with you?"

(…Are you so eager to die?)

Cassandra didn't answer…but she did release the rod. Before it had the chance to clatter twice on the floor, he had taken her wrist and teleported them away from the hell that her presence had unleashed….

A young man sat in front of his computer, watching the recorded feed from his cameras, which rested all around the city. So far, he had spotted the creature only once, returning to its home, an abandoned shipping warehouse. From his research, he knew it to have once been a supply center for the local strip mall, before it had been sealed off for safety purposes. Not that it stopped anyone from entering the building, as had become well apparent within the last week or so.

The woman intrigued him, and he wondered vaguely what purpose she served to the freak pokémon. A pleasurable distraction from its dealings, or was she the tester for the being's synthetic drugs? Either way, he did not think she would get in his way. Undoubtedly abused by the creature, she was unlikely to put up much of a fight for its sake.

He felt for the Poke'Balls at his belt, smiling to himself, his pale blue eyes gleaming. He was almost ready to face that monster. His pokémon team was almost there. Soon, that psychic drifter would be no match for the dark beings he'd been training ever since his sister had died. Ever since that horrendous moment, he'd vowed to take revenge for what that freak had done to her.

The bastard would pay for killing her with his fucking life!

"Ow! Be careful you-ah!"

Mewtwo pulled the bandages tighter after cleansing the bite wound, letting Cassandra apply the ointment to ward off scarring and infection. He did not feel bad in the least for not making the process painless. The clone had been sorely tempted to cuff her across the head, to shout at her of her supreme idiocy, but had restrained himself. She was wounded enough as it was. Besides, his fists ached from the strikes he had forced them to make.

(You should have thought of how it would hurt before you tried to escape. Did I not tell you that you would be attacked?) The telepathic reminded, checking her for more talon marks. Of course, the deep slashes in her side had yet to be attended to. She was refusing to let him touch her there, and he was merely waiting for her to loose enough blood to pass out so he could bind it.

"Yes…," she admitted reluctantly, pausing at the thought…before sighing, reaching for the alcohol, lifting her shirt to pour it over her side. She hissed as the sting, wanting just to lie out on the pale, bloodstained sheets beneath them. Or course, that would just make her other injuries burn worse. The damn fabric was soaked with peroxide. Thankfully, the fumes dissipated swiftly in the large room.

(You should allow me to attend to that.)

"You really want to get my shirt off don't you? Figures…classical male curiosity, to see what's underneath," she commented wryly.

(You are human. I doubt you have anything beneath your clothes that would interest me.)

She couldn't tell whether he was lying or not, but after becoming entangled in bandages, she surrendered to his aid. Reluctantly, she peeled off her dark shirt, knowing it was beyond salvation. Setting it aside, she turned her back towards him. Giovanni would be ashamed. Like she honestly cared. Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore Mewtwo's touch as he wrapped the bandages tightly about her belly, the warmth of added psychical healing flowing into her wound, soothing the pain like anesthesia….

As he tended to her, Mewtwo gazed at the scars that flowed along her back silently, more evident than nearly anywhere else on her body. These however, were no doubt the pale badges of her occupation. His fingers trailed along some that were white and stark across her tan back, smooth or shallow, a few others being raised, going beneath the strip of her bra. She went rigid under his gentle probing, and asked him what he was doing rather colorfully. He merely stated he was checking to see if she had any deep wounds upon her back. There were cuts, but they proved superficial.

"Yeah right…you're a horrid liar," she told as she pulled what was left of her shirt back on.

Actually, he quite excelled at lying, but on this matter, he would not argue with her. It would do no good to tell her otherwise. He stood, with his work in binding her injuries complete, many of his own having healed during the process of recovering some of her worst wounds. A few running down his chest still oozed blood, and might even leave a scar if he neglected them.

However, he was not worried. His body's regenerative capabilities had always been astonishing to any doctor he had ever met with during his training in Team Rocket; and during the construction of his New Island fortress, his 'slave', Nurse Joy, had commented a few times on his quick healing whenever he had been injured in erecting internal parts of that castle. Even with his careful planning, accidentshadoccurred.

Yet, such thoughts were banished as he felt Cassandra's hand on his, reaching out to grasp his paw. He was certain his surprise showed as he looked back down at her. She had never touched him without the intention of harming him. It…confused him.

The girl just sighed, "Idiot…those wounds are going to fester if you let them run open like that. That's how people die of infection and gangrene. Honestly, do you want maggots crawling across your chest?"

(That will not happen. My immune system is far too advanced to allow that to-.)

"It's not really up for debate, clone. So sit your ass down and let me patch you up. Now, if you will," she sniped the order at him, not looking at all comfortable with the idea, but some sense of decency within her seeming to force her to.

For the first time in years, he obeyed a human's command. He plopped down before her, trying to understand her motives. She was supposed to kill him…would it not be in her best interest to ensure his wounds were infected, or infested, as the case might be? But she merely took a pale cloth and dumped some alcohol on the fabric, pressing it against his chest. He grimaced at the sting, but as it faded, he watched her wipe away the excess blood, wondering at what she was doing, at how gentle she was being. This did not make any sense. Why was she…?

(Why do you do this?) He asked as he stared down at her, her slender, soft fingers smearing the antibiotic ointment onto his wounds. The touch was painful, yet oddly, invoked some pleasure in him…. It had been a very, very long time since he'd felt true physical touch from another being….

She didn't answer for awhile, and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear when she did, "I…owe you, for saving me, and for helping me bind my wounds. This is the least I can do to return the favor."

She wrapped the bandages around his chest, firm but careful, almost too gentle, before she tied them off, sighing, "But this doesn't change anything. I will still kill you. You should be more thoughtful of who you save, kitty."

(Perhaps….) His thoughts were drifting…no, curse it…!

"And what about that? I thought you said you wouldn't bother to if I ran," she said quietly, honestly curious, wary of the answer, "Unless you thought I would give you more than I have as compensation. The whole damsel in distress scenario."

Amusement, (Ah yes…I rescued you to have the right to have sex with you. It seems I am made of glass.)

She stared at him, her mouth slightly gaping.

(What is it?)

"I thought you didn't joke…."

He leaned forward, his face inches from her, (And what makes you think I was joking, woman?)

She stiffened as he reached forward, taking her hands, slowly shifting his weight above her, pining her beneath him. His face approached hers, making her breathing still. What…what was he doing? While some part of her felt the stirrings of curiosity, fear suffused her, and she seemed to shrink. She attempted to move, to make him release her, but found she could not. No, that was wrong. That wasn't it. It was just…some tiny part of her didn't entirely wish her to move. The thought scared her, disturbing in the implications of what her body was willing to do even if her mind wasn't. Immediately her brain began to stumble from reasonable speculations of what he was doing, to the more extreme of whatcould happenif the situation suggested went further. The concept unsettled something deep inside her. For her, abstinence had long been a personal vow, ever since….

No! STOP!

Yet, even as she longed to fight, the ambivalence of the short moment made her freeze. He was a pokémon. Handsome yes, but there was no way that she could ever want him for such a trait. It couldn't possibly work anyhow! This was utterly insane, ridiculous! Still, even as logic began to form in her brain once more, another part of her felt something prickle in her mind at how it felt to look up at him. Something…something here seemed so…familiar? It made her wish to submit to him, his touch, and the potential kiss he would lay on her mouth. Some tiny piece of her wished to…no. Oh, no, no, no. That was both impossible and improbable, and…and….

Something glistened behind his eyes as she stared up at him, frozen inside herself, her body stiff with anxiety. Craving…was that what it was? She shivered, his mouth almost on hers…she felt ill, heated-.

Abruptly, he got off her, the only crime he'd committed that of holding her down.

(My, you are a gullible one, now aren't you?)

But Cassandra was not amused. All at once, everything inside her rebelled at what he'd just done, all in agreement of his repulsiveness. There was nothing attractive about it. "You…you-!"

She could not think of a curse strong enough to throw at him.

The assassin threw the bottle of alcohol at him, and rose, fleeing from him. The door to her room slammed shut before Cassandra could see the odd look that crossed his face. Was it…regret? Psyche, having hidden and watched the whole thing, was uncertain…but the expression was not one she'd seen before. He too, rose, sighing, picking up the mess, and went out for a flight to clear his head.

Mewtwo knew he had made a mistake, testing her tonight. But his suspicions had been confirmed by the way she had reacted to the mock advance. She was scared of something. And he believed he knew precisely what it was….

Within her room, the agent leaned onto the door, sliding down, not knowing what to think or feel. Barely noticeable, her limbs began to shake. She fought to control them, and dug into her deep pants pocket, taking out her pills. She gulped down four, looking at the remainder of them miserably.

She was going to run out…soon.

For the first time in this damnable mission, in years, she felt the icy twinges of true fear. She did not want this, not in the least! Yet, a part of her was laughing at her weakness. Mocking her from inside herself. Who was it? The agent…or the girl? As she repressed the latter, she almost seemed to hear the sound die. But…could she be certain her will was why that piece of her had quieted? Or was there another reason?

Did it honestly matter anyway? Sheknewthat she could do nothing anymore to help the situation. She could only hope, that after all this was over, she would not have done something unforgivable in her own eyes. And in her mind, she heard it then…no more than whispers….

The whispers of someone screaming….

Author's Note:Am I being too obvious? Hmm? Or is everyone still confused? Are things beginning to piece themselves together? Suspicion aroused?

ShrugsPleeeeeaaaaase review!Pretty please! (Give puppy dog eyes.) Speculation of what is going on is always appreciated. I hear 'this is great' or 'this sucks' much of the time (thankfully the latter far less of…I am doing something right, it seems). Your honest curiosity is always appreciated.

Thanks. See ya'.

- WiseAbsol