Looking up at the mansion as he arrived in his taxi, he knew this was going to suck. A lot. Their last meeting had ended particularly badly for Kendra and he hadn't heard anything from her since then. It had taken him a couple of messages and a phone call to make sure she really was fine after the drug bust and now, now he had finally managed to find time to meet her in person again. Artair probably wasn't the best person for heart to heart talks, but he was the only person who had been there that night. If anyone needed to talk to her about that night, it was him.

After cleaning up as much of her blood as possible and trying to find the piece of s--- who'd shot her, his own plans after the botched vigilantism had been to discover the bottom of a bottle as quickly as he could. He'd killed someone. In fact he'd probably killed multiple people and he wasn't sure he was ever going to be the same again. The excuse of self defence didn't even feel valid. He'd walked into there knowing what those people were, what they'd do. He had asked for it.

Shaking his head, thanking the taxi guy and paying with a decent tip, he moved onwards towards the front doors. Right now, he wanted to gauge Kendra's state. He could deal with his baggage on his own, in his own way, but she had been shot. She'd nearly died. That was traumatic enough to anyone, he had no clue how it would have effected the lass. She had never struck him has the most mature person to begin with.

Getting to the front office, he was a bit at a loss of what to do. Sending a quick text that he had arrived and would be waiting in the living room, he headed in that direction. Nodding at the few people he recognised and having a short chat with the passing Doc, he eventually found himself alone in the living room, dreading the next few minutes. He was hardly the best equipped for this, Christ thanks to Kendra he knew how bad his anger issues were, he shouldn't really be trying to help others with their problems.

Sighing and pulling out a book, he was half hoping she wouldn't come out. Yeah he'd be upset but still, he'd be lying if he said he wouldn't be a little bit relieved.

It didn't feel real. Everything that had happened to her just didn't feel real. From moving out here to New York.  Finding Emily, going on yet another vigilante run with Artair. All of it just felt like some crazy dream. Not that she would know. Kendra couldn't even remember her last proper dream. Ever since her power activated dreams were a luxury.  She did have a tendency to daydream.  Her over taxed mind would space out from time to time and she would simply have very vivid, very lucid daydreams.

Kendra stood in her bedroom.  She felt her phone buzz in her pocket as she stared out the window.  There was a taxi out front.  She saw the young Scotsman step out and she didn't have to check her phone to know who was buzzing.  He had concerns.  That was to be expected.  When she last left him she was nothing more than a bloodstain on the floor and a soft reminder that the world was filled with people willing to hurt others.

Kendra hurt now.  Her shoulder was still sore.  It might have been stubborn or childish, but she didn't want Doc Professor's help.  She had the bullet removed the old fashion way and refused any magic healing to ease her pains.  She deserved the reminder.  It was less than she deserved actually.  She had broken a promise to Emily.  For the life of her she couldn't even begin to remember what had possessed her to take on a drug den.  Rash actions of someone not in their right mind she supposed. 

Kendra wasn't always the most clear headed thoughtful individual.  She was actually quiet childish and free spirited in nature.  She didn't think about the consequences of her actions or how it might affect others.  She wasn't doing it out of selfishness, but a lack of accountability.  She had be on her own for most of her life, and she was used to doing things her own way.  It was her defense mechanism.  She usually tried to cast people out.  She figured it'd be easier to be alone than to be hurt.  That was before she moved here.  That was before she met people who cared about her.  Now, all she could do was try and change.  It was hard though.  It wasn't going to happen over night. 

Emily was still pretty pissed about the gunshot.  Kendra couldn't really blame her.  She knew that she deserved the scorn for what she did.  Why did I do it though?  She wondered somberly as she watched the young scot make his way up to the mansion.  Kendra's finger released the curtain she was pulling back and let out a soft sigh.  Her injured shoulder was in a sling.  She was stiff and aching, but each breathe reminded her of what a fool she had been.  Kendra fished her phone out of the pocket of her hoody and unlocked it.  The text said that he'd be waiting for her in the living room.  That was it. 

She didn't know what to say.  The simple fact was they had done a good thing, but they had nearly gotten hurt doing it.  They crippled a large portion of the thugs cash flow and put the fear into them, but she wasn't sure how much had changed.  Mostly Kendra had stayed secluded in her room refusing to see anyone.  It was too hard to look people in the eye right now.  So mostly she sat in her room and moped.

Now she had to face the one person she didn't want to face.  Artair.  He didn't have a very high opinion of her.  At least, that was Kendra's estimation.  She didn't have a very high opinion of herself at the moment.  It was for all these reasons this was going to be difficult.  Kendra chewed on her lower lip for a moment deciding what to do.  The sunlight pushed through the curtains and cast a warmth on the back of her neck as she sat at the edge of the bed.  She was mulling it over.  She could simply wait in her room until he got tired and left.  No, she thought.  No more being childish.  This was going to suck, but she had to face it.

Standing up she moved over to the door and grasped the handle.  Kendra took one final look at the sanctuary that guarded her against harsh judgment for weeks and slipped out into the hall. It felt weird being amongst people.  Some kids moved past her; fully engaged in their own conversation.  Kendra watched them as they rounded the corner.  She envied them a little.  They were going about their lives, carefree.  They didn't struggle with a sense of identity.  Kendra's thoughts were so jumbled, her moods so unpredictable sometimes lately that she wasn't even sure who she was or what she really wanted.   She wanted to help people, but beyond that she had no real sense of self.  She had no idea why people should give a damn. 

Being in that room had made her depressed.  Not because she was self loathing, but because she wanted what everyone else had.  Purpose.  If she wasn't going to use her powers to help people then what was her life about?  It had seemed so simple at first and now..... Well, now she just didn't know anymore.  Kendra walked quietly down the hall.  Her own disquiet seemed to surround her in a silent shroud.  Her face was devoid of any smile and sorrow seemed to slow dance around the edges of her eyes.  Making her way down the stairs she could feel her heart speeding up.  She was anxious to see Artair for only the second time in person.  So much had happened.  She was a destructive influence in his life.  Kendra wasn't even sure why he wanted to see her, but the fact that he did gave her an uneasy feeling.

Moving through the halls she feigned polite smiles at passers by who gave her a sympathetic look.  Everyone had heard.  It wasn't easy keeping a gunshot wound secret in this place.  She smiled politely but secretly hated the well wishing.  She didn't want pity.  She wanted understanding.  She wanted at least just one person to know what she was going through internally and tell her that they understood.  That alone would lift a heavy burden.  Kendra took a deep breathe as she rounded the corner into the living room.  She saw the red haired man sitting there on the couch. 

Kendra stood in the doorway.  Her presence was yet to be noticed.  Leaning on the doorframe on her good shoulder Kendra watched him for a moment before speaking up.  She wasn't even really sure what she was going to say, but before she could mentally process she was already speaking up.  "Catching up on your reading?"  She asked glibly.  A joke?  It was the best she could offer.  The situation was weird and she still wasn't sure how he felt about it.  So she spat out a joke.  Another defense mechanism.  She was full of them.

The voice snapped him put of his reverie. A joke? Interesting. That's not what he'd been expecting from her, but it made sense. Jokes tended to be a good way people protected themselves, especially when anything real was too painful. It was a tactic he had used in the past. Slowly standing and turning towards the door, he took her in. She looked pretty run down, obvious injuries aside. Christ did she really refuse Doc's treatment? That was not a good sign. People tended to not want help when they thought they deserved the be hurt, like extra pain was something they needed.

Next thing he noticed was her generally haunted look and slightly paler skin. Chances are she'd locked herself away after what had happened, just not dealt with the outside world. Artair couldn't blame her for wanting to hide after that nights events. Anyone would have been shaken by it. "I'd ask how you are lass, but that's probably a wee bit moot considering the circumstances." Bit of an understatement. Leveling his gaze and looking her directly in the eyes, he continued with, "Sit down lass, we need to have a chat."

Gesturing to the sofa, and returning to his seat, he'd need to carefully consider his next words. This wasn't his area of expertise, dealing with peoples emotions, but he had to know some things. Had to get a wee bit of closure for himself. "I know I'm the last person you'd want to talk to right now and that you'll have had enough lectures and shouting in the last few days to last a lifetime. That's not why I'm here, or what I want to talk about." It was a marvel that he, the broken Scot, was the one trying to help someone else through a traumatic experience.

"I want to find out how you are, how you're feeling after that night. I don't care about what others have said to you, or if anything has happened between you and 'Em', I just want to talk about you." He realised it might come across as callous, but when it came to mental health, he'd learned a long time ago you had to be selfish from time to time, had to think about yourself. "Ignore all that for now, OK lass?"

"First things first, that," he motioned at her shoulder brace. "Whatever twisted reason you used to justify refusing Doc's healing can stop now. Trust me when I say I know why you did it and I know how much you'll regret it in the future. Never let your inner demons stop you getting medical help. It's never worth it," his voiced got bitter at the last statement.

"You've seen my scars, Kendra. You know I understand how you're feeling right now, how you felt just after." Few people nowadays had an intimate understanding of actual life and death situations, of the kinds of things that did to a person. Hearing it from someone who'd been there might help the lass. "We all have our own scars, lass. Some are small, some are big and some are easy to see," Artair punctuated that with a level stare. "It's the ones we don't get to see that do the most damage, screw people up the most. So when I ask my question, I need you to be honest, to really look at yourself for it."

"Kendra, are you OK?" he asked gently.

Kendra seemed to internalize it. She chewed on the question a moment as his words still hung heavy in the air. Her fleeting eyes doing their best to avoid direct eye contact.  She wasn't ready for that. It was such a simple question and yet, it brought bubbling to the surface all these things she couldn't describe. Instead of fighting back a quivering voice and a wave of tears Kendra nodded and sat down. Her body language, her actions her demeanor almost seemed emotionless. Robotic. Like she had flipped a switch and suddenly didn't feel the things that were screaming in her chest.

Kendra wasn't trying to be cold or distant, she wasn't trying to ease his guilty mind. She was simply protecting herself. She had been locked away in that room for days and she had a great many hours to think. But had she processed? No. She hadn't processed it yet. Not fully anyways. She had found things to distract her like her blog or taking up a noble cause. She found any reason to avoid looking at her own reflection because she didn't want to see the person that looked back. That person made her feel helpless.  Despite her abilities, despite her good intentions, she was shot, and that was her own fault. 

Kendra sat at the edge of the couch putting as much physical space from her and Artair as she could.  She was on the couch across from him and her eyes seemed suddenly very interested in the wainscoting.  Suddenly that little precious boarder on the wall became the most important thing in the world to her.  She couldn't tear her eyes away from it, because that meant she might accidently steal a glance of his disappointment and she couldn't have that.  No, it was much safer to admire the wainscoting.   Kendra's lips started to quiver a bit but she forced herself to swallow and the swell of tears quieted for just a moment.  She was putting on her brave face when she felt anything but.  His words still echoing in her head.  Kendra are you ok?

Finally, when she felt she had herself under control and her emotions in check she did look at him.  What he saw looking back at him was a woman who was strong and capable.  He saw a woman who had walked through fire and felt it's sting but came out unburned.  She looked as if she could battle titans on mount Olympus, but it was just a brave face.  A porcelain façade masking fragile insecurity.  Deep down she wasn't ok.  But it wasn't in her nature to reach out for help.  She was kind and compassionate, timid and shy; but she could also be stubborn, childish a bit bossy.  She had so many conflicting personality traits that it really just depended on her state of rest how she was feeling.  Right now she was tired, but not so tired that she wasn't thinking straight.  She knew what she was doing.  She was throwing up more walls.  Defense mechanisms, they're just old habits that die hard.

Kendra didn't want Artair to see that she needed him.  Didn't want him to see that she hurt.  Instead, she just wanted him to know that she was ok and satisfy his obligation to her.  She didn't want to become anyone's burden,  anyone nightmare.  Maybe he had a guilty conscience, but she wasn't his responsibility.  Hell, it was she who asked him to go there not the other way around.  If anything she had owed him more!  She was the one who was going to flat out leave him there if he got hurt.  He did make her promise after all.  The two of them had stepped into a crackhouse and walked away with blood on their hands and the whole damn place nearly burning down.  That's progress right?  It didn't feel like justice, but the whole thing did make her breathe a shimmering smile for a few moments.

The smile didn't last when she got shot.  When Kendra was shot she simply stopped living.  She didn't die and she didn't even really come close.  She had lost a little bit of blood but she got back to the house so quickly when she woke from her dream that her medical attention was almost instant.  That was the beauty of her mutation.  Her astral projecting gifts were a blessing as well a curse.  She still wasn't sure quiet how she felt about it.  It was a weird thing to suddenly feel proud to be a mutant, but she was standing on her own to feet.  That part was important to her. 

After what seemed like an eternity she dared to catch his glance.  She saw deep lines of worry running across his forehead and light wrinkles running through his tired face.  He looked like crap.  She wondered how badly he beat himself over her.  And there it was that twinge of guilt pulling at yet another loose string in her busy mind.  She didn't want that unraveling all over the carpet so she spoke up.  "I'm fine hun.  No need to worry bout me.  I was taking care'O myself long before I met'cha and I can take care'O myself now."  Her words almost seemed cold and heartless, but the tone of her voice was a sweet Melody.  Kendra's lips were slightly parted.  Her hands fidgety and restless in her lap.  Kendra's eyes moved along the man before her. 

She was sorry for what she had done.  For the pain that she had caused him.  Kendra didn't even know about the emotional damage she had done.  She had caused him, in a way to kill someone.  That was going to stick with Artair for a long time.  That was because of her.  That was because of the beautiful seductive dream who had the big brown eyes.  Artair wasn't easily swayed by her looks or her pouty lips, but he had agreed to her favor just the same.  Why he did she wasn't quite sure.  The question bit at the front of her mind like a ravenous flea.  She ringed her hands silently in her lap as he diguested her answer.  Before he could speak Kendra had came back with a question of her own.  A question that had sat on her mind for days now..... "Why did you agree to do it?"  She asked.  Her soft voice chilling the thick morning air with uncomfortable overtones.

She was doing everything she could to avoid looking at him. Sitting as far from him and playing every kind of distracting game a person could were all pretty solid signs to him that Kendra was still pretty shaken up. Looking at her, really seeing her for only the second time, she was just a kid. Yeah she might be about the same age as him but her reactions, behaviours, they were all immature. As if she wasn't quite the adult she seemed to be. If he was reading her right, she hadn't had an easy life either.

Smiling at her sadly, at the way she was trying to be flippant. She wasn't fine, worse she was doing everything people in situation shouldn't, even if they usually did. Pushing people away, refusing help and isolating themselves from the world. Strange to see it from the outside though, rather than being at its centre.

Staring at her squirming and hearing her voice, it was so weird. It was like he was looking in a mirror. True, it was a better looking mirror, but there were the signs there, the actions he'd done when he'd been hurt. Maybe she should know, know how well he understood her pain and feelings. Maybe it would help bring her out of the shell she was building around herself. God, who would have guessed all those years ago, all those painful experiences could turn out to be helpful. At least in a way. Artair still struggled with his own demons.

"Why?" It was an easy question so how did it trip him up so much? He couldn't quite explain the choices he'd made that night. Afterwords he'd been trying to deal with the fallout to really think about that. "I suppose its more complicated than one reason. I did it because they needed to be stopped, their victims deserved justice and the cops certainly weren't hurrying to help them. I did it to stop more people having to suffer, to cut out an evil from the city." Shrugging, he barreled on, "Mostly I helped you because at the end of everything, all the violence and blood, it was the right thing to do."

"But there is another big reason I went in after you. If I hadn't, you'd be dead and I knew that. Had i refused, your blood would have been on my hands. You weren't ready for it, that much was b----- obvious and someone had to be there and have your back." Thank god he'd read her well enough for that much. If he'd been in a worse mood, or if his conscience had been quieter they wouldn't be sitting having this conversation. "I had a feeling you were too nice, too naive to know when some piece of scum was playing you." Gesturing to the arm, "I'm guessing that's how that happened."

"It's a fair thing to want to know, so here's my response. Why did you go in Kendra? Why go in knowing you weren't ready for it?" He was still speaking softly, more to control his own emotions than anything else. Artair needed an answer though, had to know what had pushed her to act. At the end of the day, if she was their for the right reasons, she'd have done a good thing. A stupid, selfish thing, but a good one.

Kendra hadn't expected the question to be fired back to her. It almost hit her like a slap in the face. She was stunned. As the words left his lips she took in a deep gasp and let out a soft sigh. Why? Her reasoning wasn't so cut and dry either. She had her reasons, but for the life of her she was struggling to put them into coherent thought. Kendra looked at Artair, right in the eyes. Her stoic mask began to crack. Soft lines cut into her face as her expression changed. Her face grew tired. As if she was tired to from the effort of trying to not break down.

Kendra's eyes slowly lowered until she was staring at the floor. Her voice wasn't full of flippant bravado. It was meak and unsure. As if she wasn't just trying to convince Artair but herself as well. "I needed...." She started before quickly growing quiet. Kendra chewed at her lower lip as she found the courage to look him in the eyes again. Looking at his concerned face she continued. "I needed to know that I could make a difference." Sounded stupid when she said it out loud, but for the most part that was it. She allowed her words to settle in the tense room. She spent most of her life in fear. Fear of being discovered as a mutant, fear of her father. She feared life in general. It was demoralizing to feel such constant fear.

When she discovered she was a mutant she didn't do anything to help anyone. Mostly she just walked around at night. Exploring the lonely surroundings of her impossible isolation. She didn't try to use her powers for good, she used them to entertain herself. It was the only thing she could do to keep her sanity. Most people just didn't understand what it was like to be constantly awake. It changes you.  When she first started dream walking Kendra fell head first into a self destructive path. She broke into people's houses to rummage through their personal things; just wanting to be nosey. She would go through photo albumns and locked drawers. She found herself in restricted areas. She did whatever she wanted. And for awhile it was kind of freeing.

That was the old Kendra. Sure, she's been known to be a bit of a prankster still from time to time, but she was no where as bad as she had been in her teen years. Kendra thought that she had grown up quite a bit since then. She still didn't believe that she could make a difference, not until she came to the mansion at least. Being around all these mutants who used their powers to change the world really inspired her. It made her self reflect and wonder why she wasn't doing more. She had her job at the magazine that promoted mutant rights but that was slow change. Kendra just wanted to feel like she could do something, anything that would help someone. At first she went on crime patrol looking for crime to stop in her astral form. That first experience with muggers had left her with strangulation marks and some broken ribs.

Then why did she keep trying? That was a question she didn't have an answer. At least not one she could put to words. Kendra was still staring at Artiar. The moments between when she spoke and now only made the tension thicker. "I've done nothing with my powers but be selfish with them my whole life. I wanted to try and use them for positive for'a change." She felt her chest tighten as she knew judgement was coming next. That bitter poison that swam into people's eyes when they were disappointed in you. She didn't know why, but she hated disappointing Artair especially. Something about him made her want to be better. Be a better person. He was far from role model, but he was someone she aspired to be.

Someone strong. Someone confident. Someone who didn't take sh*t from anyone. He was the anti-Kendra. Her polar opposite in almost everyway and yet here they were. They found themselves tangled in each other's lives like a couple of flies in a web.  Yes, it was true that for the most part Kendra was forcing her way into his life. She was becoming quite good at sucking people into her crazy, but it didn't change the fact that he followed her into that crack house of his own free will.  Kendra looked back down and processed everything he had said. His words stormed through her mind as she spun it every which way til Sunday.  He thought she was foolish, but he was also worried about her.  It was a strange feeling to have a near stranger worried about you.  Kendra wasn't used to anyone being worried about her at all.  Except for Emily. 

Emily's name was another dagger twisting in her injured shoulder.  Emily was just one more person she had disappointed.  Kendra had also become very good at kicking herself when she was down; and you know what?  Kendra kicks pretty dang hard!  Kendra leaned forward.  The distance between them was much less now. 

 Without warning Kendra's hand reached up and seized his.  His hand was soft and clammy.  He was nervous.  She felt the warmth of his fingers brush against her skin.  His rough hands caressed in her much softer ones.  Kendra lightly squeezed the tips of his fingers and drove herself to look at him once more. This time she didn't care about the disappointment.  She didn't care about his judgment.  Kendra just wanted to make one thing clear.  "I guess the biggest reason I did what'I did was cus I was just tired.... I was tired of being afraid."  Her voice trailed off as a few students wandered through the living room.

Kendra had said what she wanted to get of her chest though.  She even smiled a little as she nervously looked over at the new person in the room.  She didn't want to pour her soul into Artair's guilty conscience if there was some evesdropper sitting within earshot.  Knowing Artair's temper she suspected he would run the kid off.  Heck, she knew about his temper even in the limited time that she knew him.  It was fairly noticeable as a defining trait about the fellow redhead.  Kendra's hands let go.  She pulled them back into her own lap and leaned back on the couch.  For the first time, in a long time; she felt unburdened by her choices.  After stating her reasons out loud, she actually felt a little better about it.

Some genuine emotion started to shine through. Good, it was harder to hide reactions than voice patterns, and Kendra wasn't particularly good at keeping hers hidden. It was what he was looking for at least, some honesty, an actual look at her mental state. She was a lot more hurt than she wanted to show, but he'd already been expecting that, and she was obviously struggling. Even with that, he knew she'd be fine, she just needed time and patience and might even come out of it all a stronger person. At least she'd survived the incident and probably wouldn't suffer any long term effects.

Her reasons were good though, which at the end of it all was all he actually cared about. Christ he'd be a massive hypocrite if he was too angry with her, he'd done something nearly as stupid not too long ago, with less backup as well. Artair had only walked away from that thanks to a massive coincidence that had put a much better trained friend on the scene. He could understand her motivation, heck he'd had the same in the past. Not that it ever ended well, at least most of the time. There were times it was really worth the pain, the misery. One smiling kid made everything better.

What was it with some people and being touchy feely? More than one of his new acquaintances seemed to need to reassure themselves, more than it really did for him. But he kept his irritation under lock and key, she obviously needed the reassurance right now. His hands weren't shaking at all, and that wasn't his sweat making his hand clammy. Nope, couldn't be his.

"Nothing wrong with being afraid lass, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid of anything. It's fine to admit it, and better you can recognise when you should act despite it." Fear wasn't new to him, he'd grown up afraid that any and every action he took could wind of killing him. Every surgery, every single time he moved at anything more than a leisurely pace was him gambling with his life. Years of this was the only reason he could afford to be blasé with his own life.

Glancing at the student who walked through and annoyingly stated put, his temper kept trying to flare. Not now, not like this dammit. He couldn't let it out of control, not while Kendra was in such a fragile state. Maybe the lad would listen to reason. "Excuse me mate, do you mind? Trying to have a private conversation here." He kept his voice pretty level, but he very much had a no nonsense, brook no argument on his face. That one he was good at and most people wouldn't mess with him while he wore it, expect maybe the occasional annoying teenager. One of them had nearly gotten a sword through the chest so yeah, it's success rate wasn't amazing but still.

The kid seemed to contemplate a rude or particularly unhelpful response, but seemed to think better of it and just shrugged, picked up his stuff and left. Sighing deeply, he returned his gaze to the girl in front of him. "Sorry about the interruption, but we should be fine now." Artair didn't quite know what to say now, she'd let the truth out, would now be a good time to push for a bit more?

"Feels better when you let the truth out doesn't it. Freeing, in a way. Makes your problems more real, easier to deal with. I've been down the same road Kendra, I'm just a lot further down it and trust me, it's not a good one to stay on. Might be too late for me, but you have a decent chance of escaping it, but you need help, proper help. Talk to someone, someone who can help you deal with the issues." Yep, his own experiences could be helpful, if only avert people from the same fate. "Just don't get it in your head that pain's a good teacher, that letting yourself suffer makes you better, or that you deserve it. Feel it for too long, have it there eating at you doesn't make you make you strong. It just strips away everything you are, tears you down until nothings left. Trust me lass, I know."

Kendra stood up and crossed the room. She was fighting back the need to shut down. She was trying to be open and everything in her head just screamed at her to close up shop. She knew that she needed to talk to someone. She wasn't foolish, yet she would steadfastly refuse the notion just out of spite.  She had never needed someone's help her whole life.  Her life had been tough, but somehow she always managed. The fact that she needed people now more than ever was a knife digging in.  She felt like Artair had taken her ego and kicked it down the street until he got bored with it.

It wasn't easy for her to admit that she was struggling.  She had her pride.  She might not be tremendously confident most of the time, but she did pride herself on her ability to take care of herself.  Though Kendra's version of taking care of herself was living stupid and reckless and hoping for the best.  She couldn't process everything all at once.  It wasn't just the gunshot or the disapproving looks.  It was the fact that she couldn't trust herself that bothered her the most.  The fact that her own judgement had been poor enough to allow for this to happen in the first place.  She had been foolish on that front.  An ill conceived attempt at trusting a drug dealer?  How stupid could one be.

Kendra stood in the doorway, her back to Artair.  She thought she could feel his eyes moving over her as she stood there.  The light from the window in the hall cast shadows along the wall.  The shadow was of the tree outside and it seemed to dance happily in the window.  Her eyes were sleepy as she watched the lazy motion of the branch swaying in the breeze.  Her eyes even began to close a little.  Kendra was leaning against the wall and silently letting Artair's words sink in.  There was the longest moment of just dead air.  Words that needed to be said put on hold so she could stare a a shadow and contemplate how nice it would be to slink away back to her room and just sleep. 

She wished she could sleep.  She wanted to locker herself back in her room and pull the covers over her head.  She wanted to close her eyes and escape the guilt, but that would do her no good.  She'd still be awake, conscious and replaying the gunshot in her head over and over.  The way a athelete might review a bad play.  She just wanted an off switch!  Was that so much to ask for?  Hell, if she had that maybe this wouldn't be so bad, maybe she could compress her trauma and lock it away in a box.  For pete's sake she just wanted a moment of normal. 

Kendra sighed and turned back around.  Her eyelids were heavy and she had to consciously keep her eyes open.  She felt drained, emotionally, physically.  She just wasn't sure that talking to someone was going to help her particular case.  What would it change?  The more she thought about it the more she rejected the idea.  She was stubborn as much as she was reckless and the idea of sinking into a couch and telling someone her deepest darkest fears just sounded stupid.  Kendra wasn't goin to do that.  Instead she smiled lightly at Artair and nodded.  "I'll talk to someone hun.  You don't have to worry."  A lie.  She wasn't sure if he would buy it, but she didn't stare into his eyes to give him a chance to read her.  Instead she moved across the room again and picked up a lighter that had been left on a desk. 

It was a zippo lighter.  Perhaps some student with pyro inspired powers left it there, or maybe one of the older mutants here.  Either way, she was jonesing for a smoke.  Kendra reached into her pocket and pulled out her cigarettes.  She didn't care that she was probably not supposed to smoke here.  She put one between her lips and sparked the flame.  She breathed a deep breathe of 'calm your nerves' and cast her eyes at the sofa she had been sitting on.  Still avoiding eye contact.  She wasn't sure what else she could say but she hoped that he would yell at her.  Scream at her, something.  Anything was better than trying to help her.  She didn't want help.  She just wanted to deal with this the only way she knew how.... By being alone with her thoughts like she always seemed to be.

Damn, two steps forward one step back thanks to their little interruption. He wasn't cut out for this, for the slow careful guiding people needed, the caring. That just wasn't him. Watching her in the door way, seeing all the little twitches and protective behaviours, it was all familiar, all the same. She needed help, someone kind and caring, someone with a big heart to help draw out the pain and help her deal with it and for some reason she had him. The cold man with a broken heart.

Why was he here? Really. Did he want to help for good reasons or was he being selfish. See if she can be helped, if she can be saved. Because if she could, maybe it wasn't too late for him, not too late to fix whatever was wrong with him. It was a pretty poor excuse, if that was the reason he gave himself. Hell even if was for purely altruistic reasons, it's not like he was qualified or even experience in this kind of thing. What she really needed, no what she deserved was proper help. A person capable enough to get her through this trauma.

She turned back to him, with that fake and those tired eyes and she lied to him. Again. Hot anger flared up and it took more than a few deep breaths to rein it back it, pull it back into line. Artairs expression hardened though, set in a solid look. "Lass, scream, shout, cry or storm out. Do something, but don't lie. I've earned at least that much haven't I?"

Sighing and waving away the smoke she was breathing out, she needed a shock, or at least a reminder he wasn't that alone. "You want me to play this role again? Fine then. Sit. Now." Time to tell this tale again, God he wasn't looking forward to it. Clenching his hands until they went white and taking long breaths he readied himself for all the fun times of explaining that incident was.

"It's time I told you a little story, Kendra."

Artair thought she needed help. Hell, maybe she did. She hadn't really processed anything. Mostly she just tried to shut the emotional pain out and just wallow in the physical pain. The pain she thought she deserved, but that wasn't healthy. It wasn't healthy for her body or her mind. Kendra had never been shot before. She was handling it the best she could. 

Kendra took another puff of her cigarette and moved back over to the couch as he said he wanted to tell her another story. Why does he want to help me so bad? She wondered. He was nice enough she supposed. He had a temper. She could attest to that. She honestly hadn't been sure if he was here to yell at her or check on her when she first came downstairs. Now it seemed more he was intent on trying to save her. From what though? Herself? Kendra had never been one for making great choices. 

She lowered herself down on the couch. The way her body twisted caused her shoulder to jostle and she winced in pain. Gritting her teeth her eyes squeezed shut instinctively. Like that would somehow lessen the pain she was in. Kendra honestly wished he would blow up on her. Just scream in her face, call her a child. She much preferred that side of him than this caring 'save you' nonsense. At least yelling she was used to.

Her mind started to wander a bit.  She didn't catch the first part of his story. She accidentally tuned it out when she thought about her father. He was a rough uncouth man with the perpetual smell of drink about him. He was never really a kind man.

 Thinking back, she couldn't remember a single happy memory shared with her father. He hated her from the day she was born. Her mother died during childbirth. If that wasn't bad enough, her father despised the fact that he lost his wife giving birth to a mutant. She knew emotional pain..... She knew plenty of physical pain too for that matter.  The abuses of a drunk hateful father.

Kendra grew up mostly making her own choices and staying out of his way as much as possible. She never had guidance in her life.  So when someone offered her advice and she turned her nose up at it, it wasn't her being bratty. It was the only thing that she knew. She thought she knew better. Then again, thinking she knew better is what got her shot.

Kendra looked up when she realized that Artair had started talking, and had been for a while. She had been staring at him the whole time her mind shut off and checked out. He probably thought she was listening intently. She felt bad that he was spending so much time trying to reach her. She wasn't sure she wanted to be reached. All my choices, all my life.... I have been alone.  What a strange feeling to suddenly have people who care. She thought quietly as she actually did begin to listen to what he was saying.

Kendra's eyes were soft and pitiful.  Docprofessor, her girlfriend Emily, now Artair.  All of them were trying to reach her, trying to change her mind about being so reckless.  It was what would eventually probably get her killed.  Somehow though, the thought of disappointing Emily was all she could think about.  She didn't care that she might've been killed.  She didn't care that she got shot and her shoulder hurt like a bugger.  All she cared about was that disappointment on Emily's face.

Kendra could listen to a thousand more lectures and not feel as bad as she did when she saw that.  Kendra cared about Emily.  Maybe more than she cared about her own safety.  Emily was the one person in her life that loved her.  Not concern, that was different.  Honest love, pure and beautiful.  Emily was disappointed because Kendra put herself in danger and she was worried not out of guilt, but love.  Kendra wondered what reasons Artair had for wanting to reach her.  He said some things that hinted at redemption or guilt, but what was the real reason he cared?  Kendra wondered as she listened to his story....

Well, this was not something he thought he'd be doing when he'd moved here, telling his most painful memories to a girl. A girl who'd gotten shot on his watch, while he was happily beating thugs in a red misted haze. So he just opened up to her, explained everything that had happened, from the moment he'd woken up in the hospital to the long painful recovery he went through. He went through all of it hoping maybe a little bit would get through to her.

"When I say I understand lass, I'm not being nice or caring, I'm saying it because I understand." He was probably one of the few people who could really say that to Kendra at the moment. Near death experiences changed a person and almost always, it wasn't for the better. That dread, that fear sank in, affected the way you saw the world, how you interacted with it. Worse still, when you lived with it for too long, even the fear was pointless, until the only thing left was numbness, blanketing everything. Christ the only way he'd survived it so long was the anger. It kept him lucid, focused at times. It held him together at this point. The only price was when it broke free.

looking her over, it just wasn't reaching her, it was like she was just a shell. It was so damn frustrating! Hardening his voice, staring straight through her, he began again. "Lass, if you're not going to give me anything, not going to even try, I cannae do anything. Aye, you went through something pretty s---, but damnit lass pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start moving forward! If you want to help people, really want to make a difference do you think you'll do it sitting here feeling sorry for yourself!"

She was just so damn childish. Everything was a fight with her, every meeting was him getting annoyed at her. Kendra or Daydream, whatever the hell she called herself, she needed to grow up.

Moving over to her and kneeling down to eye level, her fixed with a no nonsense look. "You don't want my help? Fine, you look me in the eye and tell me that everything's fine, that this experience hasn't fundamentally shifted who you are. You do that and I'll go. But if you lie lass, we're done."

Threaten her might work where everything else had failed. If not, if she still pushed him away, she wasn't his problem at that point. He'd tried.

Kendra stared at him for a long moment. The cigarette between her fingers dropped to her side and hung there. Her mouth was a twisted expression of bottled up emotion. Her eyes softened and her tough girl, the world hasn't changed me attitude; faded away. Kendra was afraid. She was afraid to face everything she was feeling. She would much rather turn away from the pain and sweep it neatly under the rug.

He seemed intent on getting her to admit that she was struggling. It wasn't easy for her, to show weakness. Weakness is what she hated. She had her quirks sure, but she had never seen herself as a weak person. Shy, and timid, a bit out of her element when it came to navigating social conventions....

Those were her flaws, but not weakness. She saw herself as strong. She was strong enough to weather the storm of her father's life time of abuse. She was strong enough to forge ahead in the world without the guidance of a sweet and loving mother, or a family for that matter. She was strong enough to push past the heartache of rejection from the first girl she ever admitted that she loved.... Libby. She thought quietly as the tears welled in her eyes.

Deep pools of brown began to shimmer. Her hand absentmindedly and without realizing reached over and put the cigarette out in an ash try. Kendra was trying to keep the damn from flooding. She didn't want to break down, not in front of someone she looked up to. Artair was courageous and brave, caring in his own way. 

Kendra had come to admire his stance on being a model of what a mutant should be within the community. A pillar of strength and conservation. She was the complete opposite, she was brash and show boaty. She was immature and stubborn. She helped the mutant cause in her own small way, with her magainze, but she wasn't the model of citizenship.

Is this what he wanted? To see me break down and wither? To crumple under the stress of what I've been through and not be able to stand on my own two feet? She thought. The thought of even asking for help seemed like bitter poison in the back of her mouth. She was prideful, and stupid. She didn't like to admit that the world could break her. She had fought her entire life to be independent and that was the one thing that no one could take from her until now.

Kendra leaned forward and buried her face in her hands and began to sob. Her face turned red with embarrassment. Her shoulders lurched with every sob, and she just wanted to shrink away and disappear. What would the viewers of her blog think to see her this pathetic way.

 The truth was she was sinking. Everything she tried to accomplish lately seemed to backfire. She tried to help; tried to take a bigger role in making a difference in the world. It was ill advice. She wasn't cut out for hero'ing. Kendra was just a simple girl from Georgia in over her head. She nearly broke her ribs her first night as a vigilante. She had gotten herself shot on another excursion. For what? For someone she looked up to judge her, to think of her as a child.  That only made her sob harder. The way she saw herself, the way others saw her.... That mattered to her. Though she wasn't likely to admit it.

Kendra felt as if cosmic justice put it's boot on the back of her head and pushed her below the surface. She could feel her lungs slowly filling up with water as she struggled for breathe. She felt like she was falling apart on the inside, and through this meeting. This whole time she had ben trying to keep a brave face for Artair. To show him that she could be strong like him, but the mask was so heavy. It slipped when her grip weakened. All it took was a few stern words and some steady disappointment. Kendra was ashamed at how easily she was broken. She felt cheated, she felt small. She didn't want to ask for help. Deep down, she knew she needed it. 

Kendra continued to sob uncontrollably.  For the first time in her life she actually found herself wishing she was invisible. The one time she needed it, she couldn't turn it on. Kendra was just looking for herself, trying to carve out her identity.  She was trying to figure out how she fit into this new world she found herself thrust into. A world where mutants helped people and didn't have to hide who they were. It was exciting and scary and confusing and strange. She didn't know if she belonged in this world. Her thoughts took a turn for the morbid as she wondered if she belonged in this world at all.

Moving to sit next to her as she finally started crying, he draped an arm around her shoulder and just let her know she wasn't alone right now. Hopefully that would make it through the pain and fear, but he wasn't really sure now what how to go forward. Letting out the fear was a good first step but this was where he was stuck himself, how could he really explain to someone else what they should do, the questions they should ask? So instead he just sat with her and made sure she was okay, that this wasn't a bad thing to be doing.

"It's okay to be scared Kendra, to be frightened of yourself or the world or anything. We all are, in one way or another and we all have to deal with it somehow. If that means you need a helping hand to get through it, that's not a sign of weakness of lack of character. All it really shows is you can't do something on your own." He kept whisper to her gently, keeping his voice low and his accent even softer and more like water, the Gaelic sounds making it musical.

While he comforted her he couldn't help but feel guilty, guilty about hurting her more than she was doing to herself, guilty for forcing her to confront the problems and guilty for not stopping her going into that place in the first place, but most of it was tinged with the feeling that he'd done the right thing, no matter how badly it made her, or him, feel. He just hoped by the end of it she could forgive him for it all, or at least understand why he'd done it. Frankly in her position he not want to see the person who most reminded him of the accident again.

"You're going to be fine lass, in the end. I know right now it feels awful, but you've got people around you who care and who want to help. The mansion has great counseling opportunities and the teachers here all understand and genuinely care. There's all that, and when you feel better and just want to cut loose, have some fun and get drunk, you can always count on a certain Scot." That was his own brand of mental healing, get wasted and just enjoy yourself for a night. It was always hard to care about your problems when you have the mother of all hangovers.

Ignoring the sounds coming from outside and the occasional curious kid poking their head in head in them, he just sat there afterwords, giving her a chance to calm down and register what he was saying. The rest was up to her after all, he'd done everything he could conceive of.

But he was hopeful. She was through the worst, she'd survived and sure she'd been hurt deeply and the scars, physical and mental would take a long time to fade, they would. Maybe she was saved from turning out like him, that's all he really wanted. Artair was already broken, and no amount of help would fix him, but she could be helped.

Kendra's tears tapered before finally coming to a stop. She didn't want to look at Artair.  The embarrassment was there. Even if he was trying to tell her it was ok. She had let herself down.  Kendra wanted to be back in her room. To cast out what she was feeling, but instead she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Thank you." She managed.

Kendra wasn't sure what life had in store for her. Honestly since she got to New York, she wasn't sure of much of anything. All she knew was that in her heart she strived to be a better person. She wanted to be better than the girl that left Georgia scared and alone. She wanted to be someone more self assured and someone who knew where there place in life was. She wasn't sure if she was ever going to find that.

Kendra's shoulders were still slumped as she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. It had been a long while since she allowed herself to cry in front of anyone. She didn't even cry in front of her father. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. It was a weird feeling for her to be vulnerable in front of someone. She felt like all her power had been stripped away. She felt human.... For the first time in a long time she felt human. Not in a sense that she not a mutant anymore. She simply felt connected in a way that made her realize that she needed people.

Her thoughts returned to Emily. She fought the urge to let her face turn down in a frown. She lost that fight miserably. She knew what he was saying was right. This wasn't the end of the world. Honestly she had been blocking this pain our so long that she was just overwhelmed in the moment. She needed to talk to someone more qualified than Artair. She needed to see one of the counselors in the mansion.  She had already met one of them.  Her name was Gemma and she was nice enough.  Kendra supposed she could speak to her about what happened. She didn't know how much it would help, this talk had only made her feel worse.

Kendra was willing to try though.  She was willing to do whatever it took to deal with what she had to deal with.  She spent enough of her life afraid.  Afraid of her father, afraid of love, afraid of the world and the hateful people in it.  She wasn't going to let herself be afraid of healing too.  Kendra looked at Artair for a moment.  Her big brown eyes shrink wrapped in honest grief.  A smile briefly fluttered to her face.  He was so concerned about her.  She didn't know why.  He sometimes seemed to be appauled by her behavior, yet he still cared enough to try and open her eyes.  "You're a good friend Art.  A good man."  It was simple and cliché, but it fit so well.  It was all she had to say as she rested her head on his soft shoulder and sniffled a bit more.