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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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"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?"

"I said 'hit me,'" Sawyer repeated, tapping his chin with his finger. "Right here. You got attacked by some dickhead in the dark. He took away your control. Ya got it back by fightin'. Now some slimy @$$ snails just took it away again. So, I figure ya got two options: One, run away like some pansy-@$$ little girl and pretend it didn't happen. Or, two, you can take back...again."

Balling up his fists, Sawyer took up a--really amateur by Kate's standards--fighting stance. "Now shut yer yap and f#*#in' hit me already!"

Kate's expression darkened at that, and she had barely got into a much better trained fighting stance.

Then there was one smooth right hook punch sent straight to his face, intending to knock him out.

One minute he was standing, egging Kate on, the next he was lying flat on his back with bright spots flashing before his eyes.

"Hot damn!" he called out, laying still for a minute while he waited for his brain to stop rattling in his head. Once the room began to stop spinning, Sawyer climbed to his feet, his lip bleeding but he had a rather impressed and proud smirk on his face.

"Not bad. Not bad," he complimented. "Now how 'bout you try 'n hit like a big girl?"

She was still feeling the effects of the whiskey, and probably wouldn't hold up much longer at this rate. Still the goading fueled her attack.

Kate launched two more punches, quick and hard, plus a kick to the side of his leg.

And he was down...again. Only, this time he was in no rush to get up. Sawyer had just gotten knocked on his @$$ by a seventeen-year old girl. And it wasn't entirely because he'd 'let' her...although whether he would admit that was debatable.

"Woooooooo-WEE!" he hooted, followed by a deep-belly chuckle. "How ya feel?"

Kate panted, and wavered on her feet. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and the crash from it along with the alcohol nearly made her fall over to pass out.

"Ooog.... ok I think? Next sparring? No drinks." She wavered again, and fell over on the ground. Still awake, but clearly tired.

"Next time?" Sawyer repeated, still laying flat on his back with his arms stretched out perpendicular to his body. "Sorry, Robin Hood, there ain't gonna be no next time."

"That works too," she wearily replied, still laying on the grass with her blue eyes closing.

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