169 Shades of Grey(Abeiya, Toph13139, and CS123)

"Okay... I'll be right there," Lane replied. It didn't take long to arrive on the streets of Mono. Transportation was hard enough to find there. The bus wouldn't be fast enough for where Callan was and whatever she was doing there; he knew the area. She was definitely at or outside that bar. The sidewalks were even greyer at night, and though the people dressed brighter, they certainly wouldn't help him find a cab.

Even so, on those questionable streets, there was always someone. The rate was high. Still, he anxiously awaited his own arrival to a place he'd thought he'd never visit again.

"I'll be right back," he promised, the lights on the street of the run-down building became visible. So too, did the girl.

"Hey... Callan?" he said, as he approached her. The scent of alcohol upon her was overwhelming, but not unfamiliar.

Callan's emotions were going haywire. The lack of control over her own body and mind only heightened her feelings of panic. This had never happened to her before. She saw Lane and attempted a smile as he approached, unsure of its success. "Lane!" Her breath hitched as if she was going to burst into tears, but she forced herself to keep it together. "Th-thank you for coming... I-I need help getting home. I don't feel very well."

Lane could tell she'd either been there a while or had too much with whatever time she'd been there--or worse, drank with something else in her system. Granted, he couldn't be entirely certain with merely seeing her now.

"You're welcome... I can help you to the cab I have waiting, just over here," he said, offering his arm. The streets preceding Little Palette were shrouded in darkness, consuming the alleyways and covering even those dressed in the attire of other schemes; but tonight, it seemed that everyone out was rich and had an affinity for black . He didn't like to assume, but if he were to do so, whatever was happening in the area this night was not open to anyone who didn't understand what those colors represented when they were together.

It worried him only vaguely that Callan seemed to match that uniform. At the cab, he opened the door for her, hoping she would be able to make whatever drive they were about to; going "home" was not likely to be the best option for her. Yet this situation was more complicated than he knew.

"Are you going to be alright?"

Callan took his arm, leaning on him for balance as the sidewalk swelled and threatened to drop out from underneath her. The walk felt too long.

Lane's question sounded like it came from somewhere behind her. "Are you going to be alright?" She swallowed, "I don't know. This h-has never happened before.." Her stomach churned and she slowed her breathing to keep it from rejecting its contents. She closed her eyes. The way the world around her was pulling in different directions was making it worse.

Max frowned as the woman stumbled her way out of the bar. He didn't understand what he had done wrong exactly. He was basically inviting her to stay over for the evening, but she refused the invitation. For a moment though, Max was certain he could see fear in her eyes. Her body suddenly became stiff with terror as she tried to suppress her trembling. Something was going on inside her head and Max... Didn't really feel like figuring out, honestly. He just thought the girl was crazy and he didn't like her anyway. The Red Eye leader still believed it would be wise t alert Ares, though. Not about his girlfriend being in Mono but about the gathering.

Ares was his only nexus to the other gangs. Ares was the only nexus between gangs, actually. He was not only a dealer, but he was a messenger. One everyone could trust since the man himself wasn't associated to any organization. But the third party contacts he held in his power were of interest to every single group associated with criminal activities in Mono, and Max knew that there was no better moment than now to buy the man. Yes. Buying was the proper term to call what he was trying to do.

The albino pulled the cellphone from his pocket and walked out of the bar. He could see the girl stepping into a white cab with a man he recognized as Kameran's older brother, but didn't give it too much thought. He dialed Ares' number at least three times before he gave up on trying to contact the man. For some reason he wasn't picking up, but Max wasn't one to beg. He'll see the missed calls and know that it's important, he thought to himself. And the night swiftly began as the first group of new recruits approached the old building, followed by another group and soon a swarm of people were entering La Rue. Max greeted them all with a court nod, hiding his eyes behind black shades and certain that none of them recognized them as their future leader. Kev, on the other hand, was writing down every name that was given to him with a furrowed brow in concentration. Max could hear Aria begin her number from outside and the sound of bottles and glasses being served.

Soon enough he'll be the one on that stage, making history.

---

Completely clean? I... I didn't ask for this. I just... They just... I was pretty much literally dragged here, and... I mean, you don't even know me. You are... making assumptions about me. That may be inaccurate.

Ditte only looked at him with pursed lips and a hardened eyes. Ditte gave that look to several people, several times a day and it seemed like she would never end soon. It was a look that screamed "are you an idiot?" and simply that. It did not need to be answered. It was also a good way to express her obvious annoyance at something or someone, and Damir was already reaching her limits in the first night of their encounter.

You see, I understand keeping him away from the drinks, but seriously. I won't ask for much, and significantly more illegal things have happened in this place. I can handle it. Really

And Kameran wasn't making things easier for the Frenchwoman either. The girl was gonna fight Ditte in every step in the way, wouldn't she? Ditte sighed and turned towards Kameran. "No is no. And if I see you drinking, I promise, you're out of the bar." And with that, the redhead woman turned on her heels and walked into the kitchen. She yelled a few orders in her native language and a line of waiters and waitresses stepped out of the kitchen and arranged the tables. Aria stepped from the stairs in the far back, dressed in a red formal gown and with her equally colored hair pulled up, exposing her neck. It was the very same style Ditte has favored her entire life.

The regular pianist took his spot in front of the instrument and the music began to flood the bar as people began to come in. Ditte soon enough became to busy attending the costumers to listen to anymore of the petty complaints from her new employees.

---

Allan smiled in contentment as his friend started to follow behind him. He could see a ghost of a smile on Gale's face and it was enough to make Allan's heart leap inside his chest. Every second, every moment he spent beside him was enough to make it memorable. Allan wasn't sure he'll ever gather the courage to tell Gale the truth, but he felt deep within himself that he had to do it soon. He remembers vague whispers from men in power that the city was about to fall onto the hands of dangerous men. Whispers hidden in the back of his mind while he wasn't himself.

Ah. That was another issue as well. About that other side of him that he wasn't sure he liked. He was almost afraid to ask Gale. Yes, Allan was certain that Gale has seen that side, but is too nice to say anything about it. Gale is too nice to actually leave him to himself as he so rightfully deserves. The walk to the Tuxedo, unlike their way to the Toucan, was filled with a dreadful silence. Allan was submerged too deeply into his own thoughts to notice if Gale had even attempted to speak to him. The more they walked, they closer Allan got to Gale's side. The smaller man needed to feel the other's warmth close to him, to his side. Suddenly, months of lonely cold nights in his apartment, and crushingly silent afternoons of doing absolutely nothing downed on him in a single night. Where had he been all this time? It was as if a big chunk of his life was missing and Allan was scared. He wanted and didn't want to know what was happening.

The Tuxedo, unlike the Toucan, was a small place in the good side of Mono that followed the color laws to a tee... Until the Prismas weren't looking. But even then, they only used toned down colors, and small, brightly colored table decorations. They even were able to get their hands on real flowers. Allan entered the establishment with much less confidence than he should've and took a seat at the table in the furthest corner from the entrance. He stared at the table cloth as he waited for Gale to take his own seat.

---

Emilia's breath caught in her throat as she remembered the events from that evening. She could still trust Ginevra, however. Their lasting friendship, even after high school, a good example of how strong their bond was. Sadly, she thought the same of Amira. Emilia's voice trembled as she answered.

"Oh, Ginny... You have no idea what just happened to me. Like, an hour ago. Not even! Like fifteen minutes! I wanted to spend a nice day with Amira at the shore, and then we just went through Mono and this men started harassing us! And the worst part...!" Emilia was already crying at this point. "Amira left me on my own in there!"

((Emilia. :l Shut your mouth. Brief break from rereading Mr. White-is-Not-Cool for my essay to keep my head.))

Damir understood the look immediately, but it was the first time someone had honestly directed that look to his face. Granted, he didn't often open his mouth, because he had the tendency to either spill out idiocy or generally say the wrong thing at the wrong time. He was no conversationalist nor a man to voice any thought of significance outright. It took a certain degree of force to make him reach that point. Still, he remained at the table, watching as black-and-red-and-grey-swathed individuals began, at first, to trickle in, then flood, the bar. La Rue crowded faster with a higher density than any place he'd ever worked. And the sound of the woman's voice, her hair made redder from the vibrant crimson of her dress, was more pleasant than any stuffy soundtrack in downtown restaurants or the meaningless and grungy tastes of his former kitchen co-workers. For a moment, he tried to sit back at the table and take everything in; with the piano, with Ditte's mother's voice, the sense of anticipation from the other patrons, even tormented by their freedom to drink, the world seemed a different place. They were just a few blocks from Little Palette, the only place in Mono permitted to maintain color, but even that world seemed far away.

There was a sense that he'd entered somewhere even further from Mono, from Chrom. There was a feeling in the room, that something important was happening, a sense of purpose, but also that of distance, of escape. It didn't seem like the aimless grey world whose walls had threatened to consume him, the place that only amplified the pain of himself and all around him; no, this was something else entirely. Not only did Red Eye provide for those who wanted and needed refuge from any part of Chrom by drug and drink, but those desperate to see the world without Mono's smoke and iron filter. They dealt in color here. And at no time was this more evident to him than in these few moments.
---
Kameran glared one last time at the woman before turning away from her. She would find her way in this place at some point, but until then, she needed to calculate, to observe. The uniform of Red Eye was obvious, and she refused to waste precious moments resenting the drinking of the clearly young. She ignored her own youth and took it upon herself to learn all that she could about every person who could be remotely important in that room.

Though the view from the window struck her with a surge of anger when she spotted the familiar figure taking the girl from earlier into a cab. Why the hell was Lane here? It soon became obvious this wasn't a stalking mission for him, however. She sighed, wondering when he would ever stop his saint act, if he would ever realize just how pointless everything he did was. She never expected him to do the things she did, and she appreciated his efforts, but never believed he would truly be successful. That wasn't the world they lived in. It completely baffled her, his trust and his compassion and his over-involvement with everyone, but especially herself, aggravated her to no end. And how empathy (a concept which often escaped her in itself) and what looked like judgment could coexist so easily in one person never ceased to amaze her. Yet, in many ways, they were all the other had, so she felt she could never fully disregard him.

It would just be easier if he could see what she did--if he could look at these men and women around her now, and the purpose they served and realize it was the true system that beat the system of Chrom. That these were the first rungs on the ladder up out of the sewer that was Mono.

As interesting as the conversations were, and the music punctuating every word, and the faint calls of the woman to the people behind the counter, Kameran could not feel at ease. She wanted whatever this was to get started. The only people who seemed to matter were people she'd already met. As much as she loved the color that saturated the place, it failed to impress her; it was all show for the more important matters that went on in these headquarters. She turned the lighter in her pocket over in her hand, and wondered if she could leave and come back in time for Max's certainly motivating speech that would begin, in what she hoped, was very little time. The sheer population of the place only served to make her anxious, and not in the anticipatory manner that she found on a few young and naive faces.

Quickly, she pushed past a crowd and toward an exit without an alarm. The ground just outside was too damp and the pack in her jacket pocket had been low when she'd swiped it. She smelled the smoke already on that jacket, in her short, unnaturally light hair. With little thought, she pulled out her dirtied knife and sliced off a small lock, easily hidden beneath another layer of hair, and in almost the same motion, took her lighter and set it aflame. She set it on the ground, wondering if the horrid scent of hair burning was also tinged by the she'd put in a few days ago. It had been getting long.

The woman's voice still floated outside; the grey of the alley provided an ugly contrast to the beautiful brilliance within.

Sighing, she looked into the carton of cigarettes and decided to wait, in spite of her new "boss's" distraction. It wasn't worth it for just a couple of minutes. She returned to her place in the crowd and awaited the "leader's" return.

--
Lane observed the young woman as best as he could; she seemed a little beyond "normal" intoxication. She'd either had a lot to drink, or had drank while on another substance, or any treacherous combination of the two situations.

"Callan... do you remember if you took anything before you came here?"

It was a bad situation, regardless of what combination of the those things had resulted in her current state; he had a feeling there was another factor involved, and this thought made him feel sicker than the thought of the potentially dangerous level of toxin in her organs.

Ginevra sat up straighter, “Oh, darling, that’s terrible! I’m so glad you’re all right, that place is so, so dangerous! You’re very brave, I would be an absolute quivering mess if I were in that situation. Why would Amira do something like that? She knows there’s safety in numbers in those kinds of places!”

Ginevra hadn’t spoken to Amira since just after high school, really. Perhaps she truly had changed that much. It wasn’t like the Amira she knew to abandon a friend, especially one as dependent as Emilia, in a situation like that. The both of them had been aware that Emilia needed to be coddled, even when they were younger and more sheltered themselves.

“Terrible, just terrible. I’m so sorry that happened to you!”
-----
Gale walked along in silence, as was the usual for him. Gale was not verbose by any means. It was a part of his mien to speak only in response, and even then, his replies were markedly brief. But he liked to listen to others and make them feel significant and listened to. Because he knew that it felt good to have someone to tell his thoughts to when he felt like sharing them.

The Tuxedo was a foreign place to Gale. He didn’t often go out to eat or party because he worked overtime at the garage when he could for the extra money. And there was always work to be done. This was a welcome luxury. Upon walking in, the first thing that struck him were the flowers. He remembered how his mother and sisters loved flowers back home. He remembered buying them flowers on special occasions. He breathed in the delicate, musky scent of the blossoms and was transported out of Chrom for a moment. Back to a place where you couldn’t get arrested for bleeding.

Gale waited for Allan to sit before taking his own seat and laying the pastel colored cloth napkin across his lap.
-----
Callan swallowed hard, leaning her head against the window. Part of her wanted to recoil at its coldness, but her head refused to do anything but loll around suspended from her neck. Lane’s question came in warped, like the sound from partly melted vinyl.

“Me? Yeah... I-I took a few extra painkillers.” Idiot. You’re an idiot. Her brain formed the thought slowly, but she knew that it was her own fault that she was like this. She hadn’t thought any part of this night through.

Panic continued to threaten her. It caused her back to stiffen.

Painkillers. Implying that she had been in pain, and clearly, a lot of it. There were plenty of reasons this might occur, but considering the way whatever she'd taken interacted with the alcohol she had also drank, those hadn't been "ordinary" painkillers.

He'd seen two other people in this state before; neither situation had gone well.

And Lane felt something dark churning within him, when he thought of the most likely source of Callan's pain. However, the situation's nucleus was unreachable without navigating through the many parts that kept the cell of her current life functioning as it was.

"Callan... I think we might need to take you to a hospital."
---
Amira was silent the entire ride back to her apartment, wanting to sleep but she felt the rawness of brick wall's scrapes and a large hand's bruises and the adrenaline of her fight preventing her from having any rest. She did not tell John what happened, even when they arrived at the apartment, where she rushed almost immediately into the bathroom. She knew her strongest memory's image had followed her in, even as she cried, even as she gasped for breath.

She welcomed his hand now, though any touch made her shudder. The anxious voice of the man beyond the door as distant as a slow car traveling miles behind her. Gradually, she pulled herself from the floor, the boy's eyes worried and his voice startled her.

"I wanted to protect you."

"It's... i-it's... it's okay," she replied, several moments after seeing and hearing the boy speak. "I... I'm okay."

The woman paused to allow him to reply, but he did not do so audibly; rather, he looked at the ground, guilt in his face that she typically saw upon hers.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She'd repeated it so many times. To him, herself, her family. He could never absolve her, never forgive her, but he reached out again, as if to embrace her, but she backed away, toward the shower doors. In response, he turned away from her.

"Amira?" the voice continued to call. "What's going on?"

Clumsily, she pulled off her clothes and stepped into the shower, trembling as if she had just been outside on the coldest of winter days. With great and sudden resolve, she turned the water to nearly the highest temperature and willed it to wash away the night.
---
"We'll try to be over there tomorrow morning... John, maybe you should call the authorities."

"I did..."

"What did they say?"

"Nothing. I called our doctor in Plum, he'll be available tomorrow afternoon."

"Is he also a psychiatrist?"

"I'll contact the college, they have excellent counselors on staff."

"...Alright. Just... make sure she gets some rest. Actually, we might stop over tonight."

"That's fine. Just... let me know."

"We will. Good night, John."

Nearly two hours after John had driven Amira and himself home, and when Amira was safe, and presumably asleep in their room, he ended a call with her parents and dialed a number he'd always dreaded seeing on caller ID.

He could not possibly begin to understand how the Meddler girl had landed them in the Grey Scheme, in what seemed to be a terrible situation. He had called the Prismas to begin to figure out the situation, but the Mono station had been of little assistance and couldn't track down the Meddler "officers" (the most ruthless of all) that had "pacified" whomever caused the distress.

John doubted the girl would give him any answers worth hearing, but any answer seemed better than no answer in this time.

Callan's eyes widened upon hearing the word "hospital." "Oh, no, L-Lane, pl-lease no!" She felt tears welling up around her eyes and felt shame as they slid down her face. "I-I just need to go h-home, please, please." Her shoulders trembled and she pressed herself harder against the door, attempting to hide her face.

She crossed her arms over her chest, gripping the shoulders of her shirt and trying to breathe.

"Shh... Callan, it's okay. We can take you home," Lane said, attempting to appease her. But he knew that he was not the only one considering the potential danger of returning her to the place that had originally pushed her out this night.

"I just want to make sure you're okay."

It wasn't in his power, nor entirely right in his mind, to in any way force her to go where she didn't want to go. There was terribly little he could do.

"I know you were in a lot of pain earlier... but you should never take more than a recommended dosage of a painkiller..." he began, as gently as possible. "Do you remember how much you took earlier?"

The gang leader exhaled the last puff of smoke that was left in his cigarette. He hummed pleasantly the very same tune that his once-mother-in-law was singing from inside. The street light flickered above him as the threw the white filter on the floor and into a small pond of water. It had been so long since he had done something do big. Or planned something so big. Max checked his cellphone once again in hopes that Ares would've stopped doing whatever he was doing in order to spare a few moments to return his calls, but no such thing happened and Max wasn't one to grovel for attention. 

Tonight was the night the Red Movement was beginning. Call it anything else, Max really didn't care. The flame he was about to ignite tonight wasn't one that needed a name to be recognized. That flame would be the light of Chrom, the one that would shine upon the poor and downtrodden and symbolize a new dawn for the city. A second chance for everyone to live in color. Max had worked on this since the very beginning of the gang. That is why they were the people's favorite; they gave color to the greyscale palette while the other two only served to spread misery and hatred. Blue Ivy was only good at getting and making drugs. And Black Dunes had made it very clear whose side they were on. Red Eye maintained their position and fidelity towards the people that lived in Mono and other washed out Schemes. 

Once the song was over, Max could already count in his head how many were left until his big 'debut'. At least 16 and a half, he thought to himself. He was about to get another cigarette when he noticed the novice standing not a few feet from him. He doubted she had seen him, why when he was wearing white clothes and standing against a white wall and an equally colored and bright light he might as well be invisible. He debated whether or not to tell her about her bothersome guardian having been there not too long ago to pick up Ares' girl. He also made a mental note to talk to the man about it later. 

Psst!

The girl was smart enough to not turn around when she heard sounds like that. Max smirked. 

"Hey, little miss," Bingo. "Shouldn't you be inside? It's dangerous out here. Especially at this hour."

---

Again, silence. And Allan had no idea what to talk about or where to start. He had already forgotten what they had been talking about in the first place. They could talk about the weather, of how strangely big the moon looked that night, about the few stars that were suddenly visible, about the stolen Digital News Station from the 56th Street, or the other thousand of broken ones, the one traffic light whose second number is no longer working as well. So many topics and Allan didn't feel like talking about any of them, because he didn't want this evening to be so trivial. 

"Pretty flowers, right?" And to hell with it. He couldn't stand the silence any longer. Before Gale could answer a waiter dressed in black and white vertical stripes, from head to toe, approached them and gingerly places two black menu cards in front of them. Allan absentmindedly listened to the man as he mentioned tonight's specials and chef recommendations. Allan was more interested in how they had gotten away with finding red ink and making each capital letter and price on their menu to be of said color. 

After he was done not really looking at the menu, Allan folded it and placed it further away from him. He then proceeded to look at Gale. "It's on me tonight, so you can order whatever you want." He then turned to the waiter. "I'll have whatever he's having."

---

Emilia wiped her face as she nodded, pressing the phone further against her ear. "It was awful, yes. I don't know what got to Amira but she, like, she was like 'Emilia, don't you dare call the Prismas here!' and I was like... Well what the hell am I supposed to do then?! Three men or four I don't remember either... They were ready to take us both. And then her ex boyfriend appeared. The kid from Bloom. Damian, I think was his name. I guess he lives in Mono now that his parents died. But he was there and I think he was in it too!"

Kameran tightened her grip on her lighter as she heard the sound behind her. She likely stood out like a grey chalk smear against the ivory walls of the alley. It was most likely a poor decision to come out when she had, in the place that she was, but staying there for as long as she would have been required was not an option.

"Shouldn't you be inside? Don't you have a revolution to start?"

Max smiled at the young girl and finally pulled out that cigarette. He held it between his lips for a while, remembering he had left his lighter inside. "You are really smart. Able to catch things that others can't, probably because you are sober and you are thinking with the head on your shoulders. Care to lend me that lighter? And if you must know, my turn will not be until a few minutes. What are you doing here?"

Kameran hesitated momentarily before handing the lighter to Max. She watched a little too attentively as he lit his cigarette and handed it back to her.

"Well, considering I am sober, and the main attraction has not yet begun, I figured I could have a couple of moments."

The albino man took a long drag out of his cigarette and closed his eyes momentarily. He didn't want to spoil the surprise for the little girl even if she already knew half of what it was all about. "And you should stay sober," he finally said after a few moments of silence. "Ditte was very clear with her orders, wasn't she?"

---

Emilia frowned. "Ginny, hold on a sec, I have a call on hold." Emilia pressed the button absentmidenly but she was able to catch a glimpse of the number. She pursed her lips and prepared herself for the confrontation but decided to play the role of bigger person and appear unaffected. "Yes, who is it?"

(("What the ****, Emilia?!"))

Kameran decided to pull out one of her last cigarettes, in spite of, or perhaps, because of, the timing and followed the previous actions of Max.

"Eh. I'm sure you've noted the 'rebellion against authority figures' aspect of my misguided youth persona."
---
"Emilia? This is John."

Max threw his head back as he let out an obnoxious laughter. He was amazed by this girl's sassiness, but even more so by the fact that he was actually telling her to be safe. As if her safety mattered in the grand scheme of things.

"Yeah, that's true. Forgot about that tiny detail. Why are you in this business anyway?"

---
"Oh. Hello, John. How's Amira doing?"

"We all have our reasons. Why did you get into this business? That question probably has a far more interesting answer."

Kameran exhaled, closing her eyes momentarily as she tried to keep her bearings in the alley. The walls were so strangely clean compared to the rest of the building, and had the daylight remained for longer, they would have been the color of untouched, new-fallen snow. But in the night, streetlights left an orange tint upon the otherwise poorly-lit space.

---
"That's exactly why I called, Emilia. Amira is not doing well. Tell me exactly what happened when you guys were out tonight."

It had been possible that Emilia had endured whatever traumatic fate Amira had faced when they were in Mono... until he'd heard the girl's voice. She was either very good at hiding how she felt, hadn't gone near whomever had hurt his girlfriend, or hadn't understood the situation in any significant manner.

Ginevra nodded, "All right. I'll talk to you later, Emilia." She put the cell phone down. Again, Callan visited her thoughts. She hadn't spoken to her sister in over a year. And now she would be married in a few months. Ginevra and Callan had never gotten along as children or teenagers, but that didn't mean that Ginevra never wanted to see her sister again.

The truth was that she missed Callan. The family had never quite been the same without her. The wound never truly closed, it was merely bandaged and hidden away. There wasn't a stitch in the world that could do a thing for it.

And it would just get deeper and more painful if her only sister did not show up to her wedding.

---

“Thank you.” Gale had no intention of letting Allan pay for him, but he wouldn’t let him know just yet. Gale smiled up at the waiter, “I’ll have a glass of ice water and the fettuccine alfredo, please.” He folded his menu and handed it to the waiter, smiling brightly with his usual, somewhat enigmatic charm.

----

Callan pressed her cheek against the cool glass, her slow and deep breaths causing fog to race over it. She closed her eyes, Lane’s voice coming in warped. It was frightening. She jumped at the distorted sound.

“M-Me? I... I think,” the memories were hiding from her. And somewhere deep inside that comforted her. For once, the things she ran from couldn’t find her. The lack of control somehow gave way to exactly what she had always wanted. All it had taken was some mixing.

“Three... maybe four?” she slurred, sounding unsure. It might have been more. But definitely not less.

"Callan... I know you don't want to go to the hospital, but I think you may have gotten yourself pretty sick. You might need to visit a doctor," Lane ventured gently. He wanted to ensure she would enter into the safest situation she could tonight. It could require more than what he had the resources and relationship to do, but he needed to know she would be safe at least this night.

Callan panicked again at the word hospital the previous feelings of serenity were gone. "L...Lane please," she began, begging again, "I can't go there. I c-can't go to a doctor." No one can see me... The shame of her physical condition started to sink in. Her newest bruises were on her cheek and lower back. Sitting with her back against the seat was painful and she scooted forward, hugging her knees.

She carefully wiped her eyes, making sure that the tears didn't fade the think foundation covering the dark mark on the right side of her face.

Lane noted the manner by which Callan wiped the tears from her eyes, the caution she had around particular areas of her face, the way she kept her back away from the seat. He knew exactly what was going on.

"Callan... why can't you go to a doctor?"

Callan sniffed, covering her face with her hands. Even through the thick veil that shrouded sounds and made the world pull off to the right on occasion, she could sense suspicion in his voice. He knows... What if he knows? But her mouth formed words faster than her brain could form thoughts.

"I c-can't... let them see."

Her eyes snapped open wide after that. What if Ares found out? She was never supposed to tell anyone. Never supposed to let anyone see.

"Callan... I want you to know that you can trust me. You can tell me anything and it will be safe with me. You're safe here, Callan."

Lane could no longer debate whether it was the proper timing to tell her what he'd just said. He could only hope that she would be able to accept it. He was only catching small glimpses into the complicated tapestry he was certain the young woman's life was; it would take more than drunken cab ride to gain the trust, to extend the hand that he or someone else would need to be even a remote part of the catalyst that could take her from the situation that he knew she was in.

It was harder than he could imagine, to endure the kind of treatment she was enduring. The challenge of this precipice was both familiar and vastly new ground for Lane. But with the knowledge he now was certain he had, he could not wallow in complacency. He wished he'd known Callan better before this time, but he still meant every word he'd just said to her.

Callan could not bring herself to look at Lane. She could not believe that she deserved to feel a bond with someone. That she deserved to trust or feel safe. Ares had taken those feelings away from her, snatched away her ability to connect. All she had left was her commitment to him. Loving him, taking care of him, and becoming the object of his emotional releases.

But it touched her that Lane, a boy she had hardly known and only spoken to in passing, would try to offer her this comfort. She managed a weak smile, "I... Thank you, Lane."