((ooc: Kealey and Calley first met in Burned Into Her Mind.))

It was a stupid idea. Calley pivoted on his socked heel, and started back towards Cafas’ room. Stupid, stupid, stupid idea. But he had to do something. He about-faced, and strode resolutely back towards her door. She’d let him go; she wasn’t going to turn him in now.

She’d given him five minutes to run. Five minutes, that expired many a day ago. The brown-haired young man hastily turned back towards Cafas’ door.

Calley hadn’t officially been back to the Mansion since then. Since... yeah. That wasn’t to say that a cat or two hadn’t demandingly been found sitting outside Cafas’ closed window, or that they hadn’t spent a few sullen nights sleeping in the teenager’s spare bed; he just... hadn’t officially been back. Hadn’t announced things with neon signs, for instance. Or wanted posters.

She would have told. There was no doubt. He hadn’t given her his name, but he hadn’t been wearing a ski mask, either. She must have told.

The cat in Cafas’ room hadn’t heard any real fuss going on outside the door, though; hadn’t seen any signs of an investigation. Calley swiveled back towards her door. He didn’t know her name, either. But he was going to find out. Maybe.

Before he could stop himself again, he raised his hand to the door and knocked. His other arm curled uncertainly around its meager package. There was still time to run.

But he wanted to know her name.

The radio Kealey had brought from her apartment to her mansion room was playing softly in the background. Sometimes music helped distract her when emotions were running too high around the mansion and that was something that seemed to be more and more commonplace as summer got into full swing. The sketches laid out on the small desk were all of costumes for X-Men and Kealey was trying to work out some of the details. She’d known when she took the job on that it was going to be a big project, she hadn’t really understood all the variables though. Besides the usual problems that had to do with sizing, material, and design there was also the fact that Kealey had to consider the power that went along with every costume. Sam’s had presented a problem that had been easily solved with cold weather gear, other suits…not so easy.

Kealey sighed and leaned back in her seat, pushing stray curls that had escaped from her ponytail back behind her ears. She didn’t feel bad taking a “scholarship” from Sam anymore, Kealey was definitely earning her keep.

Yawning and stretching helped some, and Kealey leaned forward again, humming along with the radio. She was just about to put pen back to paper when there came a knock on her door.

Kealey looked at the door for a moment, head tilted to the side in confusion. She usually didn’t get many visitors. Up she got, padding across the room in a pair of sweats and a tank top. Hand on the door knob, Kealey stopped, brows knitting together at the emotions that could only be coming from the other side of the door.

It wasn’t that they were bad they were just strange. There was reluctance there, along with eagerness, gratefulness and some guilt. Who was it , and what were they doing?

Kealey opened the door, then stood, absolutely riveted to the spot.

A lot had happened in the few minutes she’d spent with the young killer the night he’d stumbled upon her in the hallway. One thing was sure though, she’d never forget that face, those eyes, and here he was again.

There were people moving around, and for a moment the blonde’s first reaction was to call for help. Something stopped her though. Something in those emotions, maybe the fact that the furthest thing from this young man‘s mind was violence. She stared for another moment trying to figure out what it was, then spoke.

”I hadn’t expected to see you again….can I help you?”

She was going to yell. She was definitely, definitely going to yell. Students and older hangers-on walked past behind him; people were all around. The Mansion was a lively, cheerful place this morning. Her face, her pause, her stillness said it all: she was going to yell. Then he was going to have to run. Quickly.

Stupid, stupid, stupid idea.

She was drawing in a breath; her mouth was opening. Calley reflexively cringed back.

>> “I hadn’t expected to see you again….can I help you?”

“Oh. I... ah. No, it’s just that...” Restart. “I made you cookies.”

He offered the little round tin to her, finding its own cat-patterned lid a lot more interesting than he remembered. He’d just... stare it at. For awhile. “Sorry. Some of them got a little burned. They’re better than the first batch, though.”

“Sorry.” It bore repeating.

She should have been yelling. Something inside of Kealey made that very clear. Maybe it was the feelings of the other person in the hallway. He was absolutely full of regret. Regret for showing up at her door? Regret for what he’d done? Kealey didn’t know, that was one of the many weaknesses of her powers. The feelings were there though, and as he held out a cookie tin, the only thing the blond could do was stare at it.

He’d….made…her…cookies?

Is that what people did when someone let them get away with murder? Kealey didn’t know, but apparently this young man thought so. There were people wandering everywhere, nobody found his presence strange. He was definitely a mansion resident. Kealey’s curiosity rose to replace her trepidation about this meeting. Slowly, she reached out and took the cookie tin from his hands.

”You don’t have to apologize to me…” she said, her words soft and thoughtful.

He’d made her cookies, twice when the first batch had come out poorly. Some of Kealey’s assumptions were being shattered here and the need to understand bubbled up thickly inside of her. How did one approach such a topic, though?

”Thank you, for the cookies. I….have to ask why, though? Should you even be here?”

Socked feet wiggled a little deeper into the hallway carpet; grounding.

“Probably not,” he answered. “You told, right? So... I should probably just stay at the Sanctuary, from now on.”

He knew he wasn’t the only murderer in the Mansion, but he was probably the most recent. And the most recently outed. The blood on his hands wasn’t distanced by some tormented past. His was still fresh, and dripping. She’d told. She said she was going to, and he believed her. The X’s were working with the police now. He’d heard it on the news, and at the station. And Cold Steel had already given him one chance already, after the brawl at King Pharmaceuticals.

His socks were green and stripped; he wondered who he’s stolen them from. Cafas, maybe? Or Katrina. They were a little small.

“I probably failed my classes already, anyway. My finals were last week.” He’d promised Kat he’d take them this semester. She’d made him study, even when he’d been training in fox form. Even after Ms. Dumonde had kicked him out of her daughter’s bedroom, he’d still had to take his book down to his dog bed in the kitchen.

But Kealey had given him five minutes, not a week.

“My name’s Calley.” The carpet was really, really interesting.

Kealey just nodded her head when he asked if she’d told. There was a little more to it though, ”I told Shin…I don’t know if he’s told anyone else, though.” The Sanctuary, he’d need to stay at the Sanctuary from now on? Kealey frowned slightly, wondering if she should call there and let Venus know exactly who was staying in their rooms.

The cookie tin was warm in Kealey’s hands, like it had been held onto for a long time. This had been a difficult decision for the younger man to make. Kealey couldn’t blame him for having trouble.

He started talking about his classes, how he’d probably failed his finals at the mansion and Kealey’s brows drew together more. Why was she feeling sorry for him? Why did she want to say something comforting. He’d killed someone. It had occurred to Kealey that there were probably lots of people in the Mansion who had killed people. They’d all committed acts of violence, necessary of not. Even Kealey herself had hurt people, hurt them intentionally. What made this young man any different? He was already tearing himself up about the whole thing…

”Maybe they’d let you retake them if you had a good excuse?” she offered up. It probably wasn’t that helpful though.

He offered his name. He’d given her everything she needed to send the police, the mansion administration…anyone after him. This was not a cold blooded killer.

”I’m Kealey.” she said softly, ”Are you sure I can’t help you?”

A good excuse. ‘Sorry, teach—long weekend. Tortured a girl, went on the lam. So. Can I reschedule for Monday?’

He could make something up, of course. He just... didn’t feel like it, right now. Lying about it felt like disrespect, somehow—like desecrating a grave.

Kealey. Her name was Kealey. It was a pretty name; more so in the accent in which she spoke it. He didn’t think it would sound nearly so musical on his own lips.

>> “Are you sure I can’t help you?”

His toes curled deeper into the safety of the carpet. “Can I just... talk with you? For awhile. Not about that, necessarily. Just... talk.”

She knew already. Every word out of his mouth wouldn’t feel like a lie, around her.

He wasn’t going to lie to his teachers in order to save his grades. Again, Kealey felt like she was stuck in some sort of paradox. She knew what he’d done, what he was capable of, yet here he was acting for all intents and purposes like a good kid. In spite of her instincts, Kealey’s heart went out to the younger man, Calley.

She asked what she could do, and he responded. He wanted to talk…not about what had happened. Kealey was relieved by that, she didn’t know if she could handle it still.

”Sure” she said, backing into her room and moving towards the desk to sit down. ”I’d appreciate it if you’d leave the door open though.”

Just because she’d decided he wasn’t a psychopathic serial killer didn’t mean Kealey wasn’t going to cover all the bases she could.

”What did you want to talk about?”

“Yeah,” Calley agreed to her open door terms, with a brief flicker of a smile. “That’s fine. Sorry about last time, if I scared you. I really wasn’t thinking straight that day. I didn’t... mean anything by it.” Like ‘I’m going to kill you, too’. Yeah. He hadn’t been thinking of what a closed door might signal, to a woman who knew what he’d done. He probably had an alchemist he should apologize to, as well. Something about a finely shredded chest, and late night improprieties.

He glanced around briefly as he entered, curious, but putting a clear effort into not looking too curious. Too curious might be creepy. He’d already imposed upon her enough, in that regard. She seemed to have been working at her desk before he’d interrupted—fabrics and sketches were laid out. Weird fabrics, and weird sketches. It had never occurred to him to wonder where all those super hero get ups came from.

Calley took a discrete seat on her floor, leaning back next to the bed with his arms crossed over his knees. It was a comfortable spot.

So. What did he want to talk about.

He wanted to talk about fixing this, but in the absence of a time manipulator, he couldn’t. So there really wasn’t much to talk about, there. He went to the next available topic.

“So... you make costumes?” He asked. Right up there with the weather, and that local sports team.

Kealey shook her head when Calley said he was sorry for scaring her the last time, she really didn’t want to think about it. The apology was genuinely given, though so something needed to be said.

”It’s alright…the paranoia is a side effect of what I do. You were every bit as scared as I was.” she said, brows drawing together as she frowned. ”A lot of things were bleeding over. I’m not usually hysterical.” she wasn’t. That whole experience was uncomfortable in hindsight, running to Shin after Calley had left, all the crying and talking…people didn’t know all that about Kealey. They looked at her differently when they did.

Calley asked about the costumes and Kealey looked to the work that was slightly overflowing her desk. She nodded her head, ”Yeah. At least right now…I’m actually still in school. Sam wanted me to give it a try, though, and things are going better than I could have hoped.”

”What do you do?” Besides kill people. He wasn’t one of the X-Men, so completely justifiable homicide in the heat of battle was seeming more and more far fetched.

“So you actually feel other people’s emotions? You don’t just sense them? That has to suck.” Cue a rising red flush and a hurried retraction. “I mean... it sounds like a cool power. Very cool.” As opposed to one that sucked, clearly. All Calley knew was that he was happy to stick with just his own emotions. He didn’t think he could deal with any others piled on top of that.

He looked up at her with baby blue eyes, suddenly understanding. “You must be strong, to handle that.”

No wonder she was a good person.

“So you’re the X-designer in training?” A hint of a smile flashed again. “Careful. Make sure to veto any short skirt uniforms for the girls, before Sam gets his rear handed to him.” He could picture the X-Leader ordering that. Maybe as a joke, maybe not. They could try asking his corpse later, after the girls found out.

...Calley needed to not make jokes like that, even in his own head. He swallowed down bile.

“I guess I’m just a student, now. Mostly.” Except for his Order involvement. He’d kidnapped a Mansion student, before all this. Odd how little fuss that seemed to have caused, even if it had been a catch and release operation. Why hadn’t the X-Men followed up on that? Why hadn’t they caught him, and locked him away somewhere? He couldn’t hurt anyone, then.

“Before this, I... I guess I don’t want to talk about that. It’s part of the rest of this.” He waved his hand in the air, managing to encompass murder in the simple motion.

She knew the truth. He didn’t feel like lying to her, but he was too tired to fill her in on the rest of it. Did the rest of it even matter? Did Hunter really make him kill that girl?

Yes. He had to. Calley wasn't like that. He didn't kill people. He didn't.

Kealey had to laugh a little bit at Calley’s reaction to her powers, ”Don’t apologize…it does suck. I don’t want to know all those things. I really don’t. I hate knowing things about people, things they may not even know about themselves. It’s not right.”

He said she was strong and the laugher faded, Kealey shook her head, ”I’m not strong. Not at all. I’m an absolute mess half the time, and the other half I’m getting myself into situations I can’t get out of on my own.”

Why was she telling all these things to a person who was not only an almost complete stranger, but a killer to boot? Because he probably wouldn’t argue with her. Shin always argued, as did most of the other people she came across and voiced her self-disapproval to. Maybe he’d just nod his head, it would almost be a relief…to know she wasn’t the only one who felt that way about herself. Besides, nothing Calley could learn about her would be as bad as what she already knew about him.

”And don’t you worry about the skirts…each team member is having a heavy hand in their own costume. I know all about Sam and his roving eye.”

Suddenly, Calley was disgusted with himself, and Kealey wrinkled her nose in shared distaste. ”What’s wrong?” she said, swallowing hard and shaking her head a little to clear it.

He was a student, for the most part, but as Calley’s silence stretched after the answer his emotions veered more and more towards that self-loathing slight panic from the first night they’d met. That was bad, he suggested they go somewhere else with the conversation. Kealey nodded enthusiastically.

He was so doubtful, but at the same time, so confused and vulnerable. What had happened that night? A part of Kealey didn’t want to know at all…but another part wanted to know everything that had contributed to the powerful emotions that had torn her up so badly.

”What about your power? What do you do?” she asked, trying to keep away from emotions or that night.

Silent footsteps padded down the hall. An odd comment met his ears.

>>”And don’t you worry about the skirts…each team member is having a heavy hand in their own costume. I know all about Sam and his roving eye.”

Shin stopped. He glanced towards the origin of the comment. That had been Kealey's voice. Who was she talking to? And just how in the heck had she learned about Sam's roving eye!?

He didn't just get jealous there for a second. No. That hadn't happened. But he'd investigate the conversation, all the same. Shin popped his head in on Kealey's final comment, hair a mess.

"Did somebody say miniskirts?"

His eyes fell on the boy by Kealey's bedside. "Who's your friend?"

>> ”I’m not strong. Not at all. I’m an absolute mess half the time, and the other half I’m getting myself into situations I can’t get out of on my own.”

“That’s nice,” Calley said. Which... sounded less sincere than it had in his head. “I mean, that’s nice that there are people you can count on to get you out of those.”

He just shook his head when she asked what was wrong. Internal monologue blip: he’d rather not explain. His mutation, now. He could handle telling about his mutation. “I’m a shifter,” he started.

At which point Shin entered the room. Calley recognized him from the last King Pharmaceuticals fight, and nondescript path crossing incidents around the Mansion since then.

He recognized him as the person Kealey had told.

>> "Who's your friend?"

The shifter stayed where he was, back against the bed, looking up at Kealey. That answer rather interested him, too.

Calley was stumbling a little over his words, pointing out that she was lucky to have people who cared enough to pull her out of situations she got herself into. He hadn’t disagreed with her. Kealey let out a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t exactly agreement, but it was probably the best she was going to get.

He explained that he was a “shifter” and Kealey grew confused, trying to puzzle out exactly what that meant. She was just about to ask when…

>>"Did somebody say miniskirts?"

…Shin appeared.

Kealey’s first instinct was to laugh and shake her head. Leave it to Shin to walk by right at that moment in the conversation. The first instinct wore off, and Kealey had to work to keep the smile plastered on her face. Shin knew what had happened that stormy night, knew all too well and here Calley was, sitting in the middle of her room…looking at her.

>>"Who's your friend?"


”This is Calley…” Kealey said, ”I was just telling him about the costumes I’m designing and their lack of miniskirts.”

Kealey’s eyes flickered to Calley for a moment and she grinned all the brighter, ”He was telling me about his powers. He said he’s a shifter, and I was just about to ask for clarification on that when you walked in. Maybe he’ll tell us both.”