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More new arrivals but her business was elsewhere, and she figured she would be meeting them soon enough anyway.

The Sensoriums were set to look like Central Park as a pleasant spring day. Gentle breeze blowing while Kate lined up her shots toward the targets 50 feet away. It was very nice and pretty. A nice contrast from the ugliness of late. She had been feeling so mixed lately. Between being angry at Paco, nervous about Brenda's arrival, and then that whole last moment as the Yeerk died, it's been a very confusing time mentally and emotionally. She took her shots.

Still off. She went to go fetch her arrows, but then paused before find a place near a tree to slump down. She drew her knees up to her chin, and set her bow on the ground by her. She then lowered her head face down, and drew in slow shuddering breaths. She wasn't crying at the moment, but only because she wasn't sure how to feel at the moment.

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That smile dropped away to an annoyed look in no time flat.

"How do you think? The pool's probably gone, or I'd suggest going for a swim yourself and find out."

"No thanks," Sawyer said. "I'd rather keep my deep, dark dirties to myself. At least, for now anyway." He took another swig then offered the whiskey to Kate again.

"Ya ask me, it looks like the snails did a number on ya."

"It tried," she allowed, and accepted the whiskey again before handing it back. The burn wasn't as noticeable this time.

"Oh yeah?" he said, apparently unwilling to let the conversation drop any time soon. He leaned his back against the trunk of the tree he was propped against and then slid down until he was squatting at the base.

He puffed on his cigarette. "How?"

"Digs out all of your worst memories." She found a patch of grass to flop down on while she spoke. "Over and over again."

"Like what?" Isn't he the nosy one today...

Kate eyed him, "Bad ones, I don't need to explain anymore about it."

"Sure ya don't," Sawyer answered in a tone that said he just was not buying it. "That's why you're hidin' away in an imaginary park and gettin' drunk with a total stranger." He downed another shot and, again, handed the bottle to Kate.

"Because I got control over this," Kate remarked, taking another swig and handing it back. Her voice was steadily getting more slurred as the conversation continued.

"Can turn it off whenever I want. Not like before where you can't turn the mental ipod video from hell off."

Sawyer eyed her quietly for a few seconds before replying. "How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen? What memories you got that are so painful?"

"Seventeen, and even kids can have painful memories. Some people don't care about hurting kids."

"Oh yeah?" Sawyer snaked another drink, handing the bottle to Kate. "We talkin' 'perverts and pedophiles' kinda people or 'beat ya with a car antenna' kinda people."

Kate's expression stiffened a little, more so on the first part, but she just had another drink instead of answering. The buzz was helping.

Sawyer nodded when she didn't answer, automatically assuming he'd hit the nail on the head with one or both of the options. Taking the bottle back from her, he downed three or four huge gulps of whiskey, wiping his mouth off on his sleeve before handing it back to her.

He ashed his cigarette in the fake grass.

"When I was kid, my daddy killed my mom right in front of me. I was in my room with my mom and dad was downstairs, outside, tryin' to get in. He beat in the front door. Then my mom left to take care of it and he beat on her for a while before he finally got pissed off enough that he shot her in the chest with a twelve-gauge shot gun," Sawyer paused to take a drag of his cigarette.

"Then he came up to my room, lookin' for me. I'd hid under the bed and he was drunk--even layin' on the floor I could smell the alcohol on him--so he didn't even think to look for me there. Then he sat down on my bed, put the barrel in his mouth, and blew his brains out."

Kate stared in shock at that. She wasn't completely surprised, what with her charity work in the shelters. It was still a horrific thing for a child to go through.

"God...I..." She had lost her mother too, but her dad loved her dearly. Was devastated when Eleanor Bishop was killed.

"Don't tell me you're sorry," Sawyer interrupted, giving her a cautionary look. "You and I both know it don't mean $h!t. It's just somethin' people say to make themselves feel better. So, let's just make a deal right now: you spare me the bull$h!t sympathy act and I won't give it you either."

He sucked in another drag. "Funny thing about bein' a screwed up kid, you can spot another screwed up kid from a mile away. It's like radar."

Kate hurriedly replied, "I wasn't going to say that or even that I understand. Because I don't, even though my mom was killed too. They never caught the one who did it though. My dad's ok, even if he's too busy expanding the family empire."

She gave a rueful glance back, "Yeah, guess it's obvious if you know where to look. And sure it's a deal."

"Good."

He took a sip then handed the bottle to Kate.

"So what's your story?"

"Superhero, well a Young Avenger. Or was one. Kind of hard to be one here without a costume. Least I got my weapons still."

She added, her voice clearly slurred now after another sip, "Figured even if I couldn't feel safe again, I could make sure others can be."

"That's not what I meant," Sawyer replied. "I'm talkin' about the deep, dark dirties that the leech rubbed your nose in."

"I..." She sighed and glanced away.

She then pointed in one direction, where the trees were thicker along a path of the park.

"See that path there. They added a few more lights after that night. Wasn't until a year or two later though. Too late for it. Just wanted to get home, and was volunteering late at the shelter. Didn't even see him until he grabbed me. Didn't matter how many times I said no. Was just a thing to be used and discarded."

"Makes ya feel pretty helpless, don't it?" Sawyer said. He didn't look directly at her as he spoke, as if he were attempting to prevent her from feeling on the spot. Yet, his tone still carried a definite edge to it.

"One minute everything's peachy keen. You're life can't get any better...and then the next, some @$$hole's turned all that upside down. Ripped it to pieces. And you can't even begin to figure out where all the pieces landed, much less work out how the hell they're all supposed to fit together."

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, and nodded slowly.

"Yes, exactly." She wiped her eyes again, and made a sniffling sound. Best therapy money could buy to help get herself back on track, but even better than that? All the fighting training she pushed herself through with different instructors and trainers.

"Why I don't want anybody else to go through something like that again."

Sawyer nodded slowly. @$$hole exterior or no, there was a part of James Ford, deep down, that knew what it was like to lose control of one's life. He knew what being powerless felt like and how weak it made you feel. And he also knew how, sometimes, the only way to feel like you had any power was to lash out at someone. Preferably at the person who hurt you but, sometimes, anyone would do.

Finally, he capped the whiskey and set it on the far side of the tree, took one last drag on his cigarette before snuffing it out, and climbed to his feet.

"Hit me," he ordered.

Kate was still buzzed so that order caught her off guard, and she wobbled a step.

"...What?"