Body Count

Rage - red-hot, sudden, biased rage - coursed through her veins like wildfire. She ran from his disgusting presence, away from his greasy hair and his unrelenting smile, and into deafeningly loud seclusion and grief. How could he bring up the subject of her father's injury, so soon after she'd seen him in such a horrible state? How could he - as a human being, if not a remotely caring one - stand to see her break down again and again? The tears poured silently down her cheeks, mingling with the remaining sea water and sweat on her skin. Her hair, hanging limp and dripping around her furiously contorted face, stuck to her scalp. The white shirt Cliff had lent her clung to her body, showing every deep, gulping breath she took with the heaving of her stomach. The swim trunks that belonged to Stone were already dry. She shivered, her fists clenched, her teeth bared in an ugly snarl.

She threw herself through the warehouse, storming across the floor - which was empty - and into the locker rooms. There, she cast aside her bundle of sopping clothes and walked straight at the far wall.

Her snarl became a grimace of sadness, and her clenched teeth were now holding back sobs. Her eyes shut tight as she banged both fists onto the pale green tiled wall. A breath of pain escaped her lips.

At this moment, with harsh memories of her father and The Joker rushing through her mind, she felt completely unhappy. Not for the first time, and not for the last, she was sure. She couldn't see anything in her past that could bring a smile to her face - not even Matty, whose memory only reminded her of his early death - and she could see nothing in her future that looked anything like a future at all. Only death, madness, and insanity was waiting for her down that long and lonely road.

As she allowed the sobs to burst forth from her lungs, her scar stretched and twinged. Its' throbbing was nothing new to her, but this abruptly stinging pain caught her by surprise, and a louder gasp of pain escaped her. She could feel a very small, thin trickle of blood drip down her face.

The door creaked open.

"Oh," said a shocked voice, and she was glad to hear that it wasn't The Joker back to taunt her some more. "Oh, Shane, what's wrong?" The shock in Daemyn's voice turned quickly to concern. She heard his quick footsteps and felt his hand on her shoulder. "Are you ... are you all right?"

She didn't say anything.

His arm was around her shoulder then, but it felt cramped, awkward. She had a feeling that he, too, was feeling all of those weeks she'd spent never saying a word to him. She appreciated, then, that he still cared.

"Whatever it is," he said, moving closer and putting his other arm around her gently, "It'll go away. You'll see. You're too good to go through this much pain ... no one person should ever have to go through this much."

She laughed shakily. "I'd rather me than m- ... than someone else."

"Stop suffering for your father," he said quietly. If it had been The Joker saying that, or even Stone, Cliff, or Will, she might have grown angry. But it was Daemyn, and she knew he never meant any harm to her. "You've got enough burden to bear without shouldering his grief, too."

"But he doesn't deserve it," she argued feebly.

"And you do?"

"Yes," she said immediately.

He leaned over her protectively, and she felt his nose brush against her hair as he shook his head. "No, you don't. I promise you that. Any person who ... who can stand going insane, and living with an abusive guardian, and all that physical pain ... you don't need any more than that. You're strong, but even so, it's not fair for you to have to take on more than your share."

She sighed, and her whole body quivered with exhaustion. She turned, and as she did so, her arms wrapped around his waist. She buried her face in his neck.

His arms were tight around her shoulders. "Like I said, it'll go away."

She shook her head slightly. "If it could go away, it would have gone away years ago. When I was born. Before I was born."

"What do you mean?" he said, and she could hear a frown in his voice.

"I have a brain deficiency, Daemyn," she said, almost smiling. "How else do you think I could have turned into what I am?"

He squeezed her affectionately. "By hanging around with the wrong psychopathic clowns."

She laughed.

After a moment or two of standing in silence, he spoke up again. His voice was quiet, hesitant, and laced with embarrassment. "I've worried about you lately. I saw you walking around for a while, after you got your ... those three ..." He paused. "You were different. Like you didn't have any more emotion. It scared me. And then it changed again, and you were starting to be more ... you. I suppose that's still happening. But I still see it, Shane ..." He sighed, and put a hand on the back of her head tiredly. "Your eyes ... they're still sort of empty. The only way I can decipher your emotions anymore is through your voice. You still have a very expressive voice."

She sighed. "I know I changed ... I saw it for myself. I'm not me anymore, or at least I don't look like it ..." She stopped. "I wish I was."

"You'll always be you ... unless you really go insane. And by the looks of things, you're not going to. Most people would have been in a loony bin by now."

She blinked. "You still sound worried, though."

"Not about your sanity," he said gruffly.

"What, then?"

He paused for a long moment. "I wondered ... from time to time ... you know ... why you never talk to me anymore."

She pushed back from him a bit, but stayed in his arms. Her eyes gazed up at him, and she felt them spark with old surprise. "What, you think I've been avoiding you?"

He looked away.

She laughed, and he turned back, resentment in his bright blue eyes. "No, you stupid ... why would I be avoiding you?" She laughed harder than the situation called for, but the act of laughing made her so happy she laughed harder. "Daemyn, I thought you were avoiding me!"

"What?" he yelped. "Why would I?"

"Because of what I was. Same reason you were thinking, right?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Maybe."

She shook her head at him, still smiling. "That's a stupid thing to think."

He pulled her closer again, and sighed, happily this time. "You know," he said, his voice edging teasingly. "You're like a little sister I have to look after all the time. Except you're the premiere holy crap deal. You come with murder, insanity, and a Mercedes Guardian. I can't believe I managed to keep you alive all this time."

"Oh, yeah, because it was all of your immense skill that's kept me alive."

"I can't be doing bad as a friend, though, can I?"

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

They laughed at the joke, but Shane was sure they both caught the underlying seriousness in his voice. He kissed the top of her head and said, "I must be doing an okay job."