More Questions Than Answers (Kealey)

Meld's entire known world had been turned upside down. Not only had she learned that Lori and Aura hadn't been entirely honest with her as pertained to her status as a member of The Order, or more particularly regarding the fact that she had left the Order, but she had come to the realization that the self control she had prided herself on so highly was starting to slip. The former, at least, she could understand. When Meld had returned to Sanctuary, lost and confused with her memory of most of the last three years of her life gone, Lori had taken advantage of it and Aura had followed Lori's orders. She didn't much like it but she understood it and, when it came down to it, both had proven themselves willing to help Meld anyway. Sure she didn't appreciate the dishonesty, but she couldn't' honestly say that she wouldn't have done the same thing in their places. Besides, they were the ones who were most in a position to help her anyway.

It was the latter point that was the real disturbing fact. Meld had lived a life of violence through most of her life. When she still believed herself to be human, that violence had been channeled through acceptable routes of martial arts competitions. When she had discovered her mutation, her violent skills had been put to more shady uses, first in being hired to help out crime families in various shady endeavors and later to help support the mutant cause. Meeting Aura and discovering her mutant cause had been inexorably intertwined and, among other things, had resulted in a sharp increase in the amount of violence she committed. It was, in fact, in support of her cause that she had committed her first murder and the countless murders to follow.

Always, however, Meld had been confident that the deaths she inflicted were just ones. Her acts were nothing personal, they were merely what needed to be done and there was no one else willing to do them. If someone was a threat to the mutant cause, they had to die. If someone tried to incite violence or hatred against mutants, they had to die. It was business, the furthering of a position, nothing more and nothing less. She had gained no pleasure from the kills, although she didn't regret them either, they just were. It had to be done so she did it, simple cut and dry black and white.

At some point, however, that had changed. Meld wasn't entirely sure when or how, much of that time was still missing from her memory, but she now knew it to be fact. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, her memory was returning but there were still sizable gaps in it and many hazy cobwebs. She knew, however, that now her kills went beyond simple business. She had begun to gain pleasure from the kills, although that wasn't the most disturbing factor in her mind. The real problem, was that she had begun craving the death she was so adept at causing and, if she didn't indulge it, that craving would build and build until it took over her thoughts and she had to act. Her careful self control, reasoned choosing of who had to die and who deserved to live, shattered by a force she neither chose nor seemed able to control. She needed help but didn't know where or how to get it.

For the time being, however, Meld wasn't concentrating on her own problems, or at least she was trying not to concentrate on her own problems. She had a goal in mind and that goal was to help a little 9 year old girl that lived at Sanctuary and had an unfortunate tendency to blow things up. She had met Kaitlyn very recently when she had accidentally caused a car accident with her explosions, resulting in a man attempting to kill her. She probably would have been dead if not for Meld's intervention, but more long term problem related to her uncontrolled powers and the fact that there was no one in Sanctuary equipped to help her. Meld was hoping to be able to persuade someone in The Mansion to assist the little girl. Whether or not she was still welcome at The Mansion (she really had no idea) would hopefully not detract from the fact that the child needed help.

As Meld made her way up the street towards the Mansion, she paused a moment at the sight of a blond woman, a little shorter than herself. Something at the back of her mind said that she had met this woman before, some vague sense of familiarity. She squinted, trying to work through her fragmented memories to place the face with a name or a situation.