What was Lost and Found in the Fire

Ch. 35 Blender Mittens

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Leninora's POV
Location: Bureau of Investigation, Sacramento
Date: November 1st, mid-moring
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This kid is really going to make me shoot him. And I mean really, he did drink my nice booze; a bullet is the least he deserves....but really.

I stare him down, and mentally calculate what my chances are of getting out of a life sentence if I do shoot him...I don't have that great of a track-record. I'd probably go to prison. 

I could live with that, I guess. Prison's not that bad. Granted, I would probably have to become a prison bitch but...that might not even be that bad either. I hear prison hooch is pretty damn good. Now that I think of it, there really isn't any downside.

I hesitate though. There's something dark swimming under the surface of this boy and it resonates with me. I've been where he is right now. I've felt that dark call of the other side, the sweet voices of those passed over beckoning me into the sweet embrace of the afterlife and all that it entails. 

I remember that numbness....that deep nothingness in my heart that had taken over everything when I'd found Auroura. I remember the bone deep anger and denial I'd felt, holding her lifeless body in my arms. I remember the  months afterward, waiting for her to come home, and the dark hole I'd crawled out of when I finally came back to myself....when I came to accept that she was really gone. That was the worst part, at least for me; that realization that the love of my life was really gone and there was nothing, not a single god damned thing, that I could do to bring her back home. 

And this kid has gone through this twice. He's experienced that awful, destructive emotion twice. I feel for him. It's not an easy thing to go through.

That is the only reason I decide not to shoot him. Not even I'm that fucked up, to kick a man when he's so far down...even if the thing he's mourning over is moot.

"Her hand moved." I point out to him. I don't think he'll believe me, but it's worth a try.

He just stares at me. I do notice that the other boy, the big one with the thick accent looks up at me with the most wild, animalistic look in his eyes. 

"Are you really going to do this?" The European one asks me, with that vicious gleam in his expression matching his tone of voice. I raise my chin at the challenge he's so clearly trying to give me. 

"Do what?" I ask. I'm just trying to help them...and you know, point out that Cy is in fact, not dead. So really, I'm just helping Cy. They're just in the way right now.

"You come in here," He breathes out the words like an ogre, deep and raspy, "and disrespect us with your nonsensical games and expect us to just let you?" 

"I'm not playing a game." I try to explain. "I wouldn't joke around about something like this." 

"Wouldn't you though?" Bourne-to-be-a-stick-in-the-mud hisses at me. He's trying so hard to put on a brave face, but the evidence of his slip into human emotion is still apparent for all to see. "You live for these moments, don't you? Tearing people down when they're at the darkest points in their life." 

The punk kid with the pink hair and the potty mouth sneers at me, "We all know how much you like to tell us you do." I roll my eyes. I do talk a lot, that is true. But wasn't he and his friend the one that asked for my help? I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for them, and if I wasn't here for Cyan. I'm not a horrible person.

I've got some fucked up priorities, and I definitely enjoy a great punchline, but I know when enough is enough. Maybe my line of enough is a little farther than most peoples, but even I have a stopping point.