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Maybe a week after the police haul Strange away, Sylvia appears in Colin's bedroom while he's doing something not-too-private--studying, maybe, or playing with his camera.  It's near bedtime, so she's wearing her PJ's and sitting at his desk.  "We need to talk," she says.  The furrows on her forehead mean trouble's afoot.

OOC: I'm assuming she appears ethereally. Oh, and there's a 'Chapter' missing from the title of the thread. :)

"Ok." Colin says with a sigh, reluctantly putting away the geography homework.

"What did I do this time?"

Sylvia gives the stuff on his desk a nosy once-over.  "It's not what you did.  It's what you didn't do," she says, turning to look at him again.  "You put Alicia through one of your holistic healing sessions, didn't you?  You messed with her head a little?"

Colin's eyes go wide.

"Sorry, what? When? Is there something wrong with her?"

His anger is mounting at someone who's not Sylvia.

"Wait. You were there when I tried to help her. Define 'mess'."

"You waved your magic wand.  You tried to fix her damage.  Well, I'm here to tell you she ain't fixed.

"There's something building in her, something mean.  We're going to have to do something about it."

"Well, considering something tried to kill me there, I did my best. What makes you think she can't deal with what remains?"

He looks at her, frowning a bit.

""Did she ask you to do anything?"

"I have no idea.  I make it a policy not to try to fix the things I don't understand."  But she realizes that was a snotty thing to say, and she relents.

"Thing is, there's something in Alicia.  It's fierce, bloodthirsty, mean.  It was there when she and Donnie were fighting all the time--and I mean out-for-blood fighting--and it's coming back.  You seemed to have fixed her for a while, but I don't know.  It didn't take.

"We need to look into it, and I don't want to do it by myself, or she's probably going to kill me."

Colin lets it slide. If he did nothing until he perfectly understood things, she wouldn't even be alive, and that's enough validating for him he doesn't need to make a retort.

"Sylvia, we faced someone who could make people do what he wanted, without them even knowing. That strikes so very close to home for Allie, that as soon as she got time to think about it, something was bound to happen. Of course there's something fierce in her, it's part of her nature, especially, when the anger for what was done to her comes out. But I know she's working with Jack also to learn to keep her cool. What happened to makes you think she's losing it, and with you specifically? What did you see? Have you talked with her, or with Jack about it?"

"Colin, I'm a telepath.  One of my stone-cold strengths is reading emotion.  Are you asking me to prove that there's something wrong with Alicia?  What do you want me to do?  Goad her into a fit?"

Colin clings to his patience.

"Ok. So you read her emotions and noticed she's terribly angry and is waiting for just a pretext to take it out on someone. And you think that if you, not as a telepath, just as friend, went to her to talk, she'd jump at you?"

He sighs. "Ok, I'll do the talking. Did you want me to go right now?"

Sylvia considers what she saw, the state of things.  The thing in Alicia is a menace, a bomb waiting to go off.  Colin just doesn't understand.  "Sure.  But wait for me.  And be careful.

"I wouldn't have come to you if I thought she was just PMS-ing, Colin.  That I can fix.  There's something in her that reminds me of the traps Strange left."

"Oh." Well, that's different.

Colin's expression quickly shifts from 'patient friend' to 'man with a mission'. He retrieves his shoes and his phone.

Allie, are you busy? I'd like to talk.

Alicia sits perched on a brownstone roof, her eyes tracking the movements of the various drug dealers plying their trade on the street below. The resemblance to a lion patiently lying in the grass observing the grazing herd beyond is stark.

She absently fishes out her phone without looking and glances down to read the text message. With a chortle, she pecks at the keys with needle-sharp claws.


nothin that cant wait. wassup?

I'm not sure. Let's meet at Jack's?"

Ok. See you there.

"She's going to meet us at Jack's. I figure it's quiet enough there." he says, turning to Sylvia's projection.

Sylvia nods.  "I'll see you there."

And then she's back in her bed, rolling out from under the covers and pulling on something more substantial than Hello Kitty flannel.

Alicia snaps her phone shut with a quiet click. She looks down at her potential prey (another time) and glides silently away into the night.

OOC: Someone else can establish the scene at Jack's. Puh-puh-puh-leeze? :)

The house where Jack is living has an almost scary visage at night.  the lights from upstairs give the impression that someone might be there, but the gang also knows the house tends to play light games as part of it's security system.  Once inside and having entered the code to keep the police from descending on the place, they discover Jack is no where to be found. 

Even with the house lights on, there are still many places where the shadows pool like discarded cloth.

Sylvia can sense that Alicia is out there in the darkness, waiting and watching the two of them as they arrive. The flow of emotions curling around her is mostly curiosity with a slight coloring of anticipation and a splash of mischief.

Sylvia asked Carolyn to drop her off--still mildly embarrassing after all these months.  She hopes it won't be like this forever, one of her parents driving her to crime-fighting gigs.

She trots up the front steps to join Colin at Jack's door.  "Hi," she says, and adds, She's here.  She's out there somewhere, watching us.  She's all right, though, for the moment.

"Hi Syl. I would have never bet on you arriving before Alicia. I guess we just wait for her now." he says loudly.

OOC: I modified my entry to change the scene to outside. Darren's post led me to assume we had all entered the house already.

Sylvia can almost hear Alicia's mental chuckle at Colin's comment. There is the sensation of movement and she can place her friend's location just before Alicia speaks.

"You should know better by now, Col," Alicia purrs, as she steps out of the shadows next to Colin, a Cheshire grin adorning her features.

She turns to Sylvia. "Hey, Syl," she says happily. "This must be important if it brings out the two of you. Here, let me take care of that."

She moves to the door but ignores the prominent keypad on the doorsill. She runs her fingers across the frame and examines the glass.

"Humph. The old fart added a secondary line so I can't cut in the circuit. Oh fine," she pouts. She punches the code and satisfies herself with picking the lock instead of using the provided key.

"He's such a spoilsport sometimes," she says ruefully.

"It might be because it's not his house, and maybe the owner wouldn't like the door to be constantly forced." he says with a smile.

"I'm afraid it is important, Allie. We might have to go back to the wood. Remember the wood?"

Sylvia shoots Colin a look.  Oh, boy.  More of this hokey bullshit.

She reminds herself that just because Colin can't do any of her mother's tricks doesn't mean his witchcraft is any less valid--just less yummy.

Alicia makes a point of looking offended. "I'll have you know I never 'force' my way in and I make a point of leaving everything the way I found it." At least anything incriminating. Sylvia catches the thought scurry by in Alicia's mind.


As Alicia opens the door and holds if for them, she looks at Colin quizzically. "You gotta stop the 'inscrutable' schtick there, Col. That sounds awfully suggestive and the last thing I need is Sarah getting jealous on me. What wood?" There's a slight twinge of interest in Alicia's thoughts that makes her concern for Sarah ring not quite true.

It's weird. While the tumult of emotions still roil in Alicia's mind, the sensation is more like a rushing river than a mad whirlpool, as if previous obstacles disturbing the flow have been removed. The water's a lot darker and scarier, though, with dimly-seen shapes swimming around below the surface.

Colin tried to be gentle, but there's not much gentleness to be had when telling someone something might be wrong with her mind.


"The one with the strawberries." he says, serious, and bites his lower lip. "You see, Strange put post-hypnotic suggestions in his pat- victims. Such a thing has a structure, a shape that a telepath can see. Sylvia was able to see it and defuse it before it went off. Once she learned what it looked like from Vincent, it wasn't too difficult to find it and take it apart in the others as well."

"It doesn't take hypnosis. A mind-controller could do it as well. It's something I didn't think of. We should go back to the wood, so we can check if... well, if you're all right, Allie."

Alicia's looks expressionless at Colin, her eyes dull. For a moment, it's as if a totally different person is looking back at him.

Sylvia knows about photography in the pre-digital age enough that the image comes to her. Alicia's thoughts, for a moment, are like a multiply-exposed film. Separate emotional states flash, imposed on each other but not mixed. Anger/relief, fear/excitement, sadness/joy. There's no distinction as to the sources; they're both Alicia, but it's like two songs by the same singer playing at the same time.

Alicia's eyes flick over to Sylvia, and the emotional panoply on the surface of her mind shrinks into a white dot, like an old TV being turned off. She takes a deep breath and looks away, hugging herself.

"No, I'm not all right," she says, her voice toneless yet filled with emotion. "Before you helped me out, I was walking around doing things without thinking, reacting to stuff that I hadn't even realized was there.

"After you showed me the truth of what that pendejo had done to me, it was better. I was thinking clearer. But it's coming back. I'm doing it again, acting like I'm another person, like there's someone else in my head taking control. And she's not a nice person."

She's avoiding eye contact as she rubs her arms. "The thing is, I never saw Strange. Never even met him on the hall. So he couldn't have f**ked with my head, you see. Maybe I'm just too broken to be put back together."

Sylvia has been keeping mostly quiet, a little worried that, if she pokes Alicia the wrong way, she'll get a face full of claws and spit.  Now she speaks.  "We can try again.  Last time Colin went through with his magic Tylenol, trying to fix everything without knowing what it was.  Maybe it's something he and I can fix together."

"I didn't mean Strange did it. I mean the bastard who messed up your mind could have left traps I didn't think to look for. Hence the specialist here. This time Sylvia is coming with us, and I'll wake up Sarah too if that's necessary. I've seen broken, Allie, and you're not it. And you're not Humpty-Dumpty either. Let's just look if there's anything wrong, ok?" he says, taking her hand and smiling at her. A sincere friendly smile.

Alicia looks at them miserably, her hand squeezing Colin's tight enough to remind him he's not fully healed from the burns.

"Okay," she says, a slight tremble in her voice. "How do we play this?" Her mind is awash with apprehension. There is an unconscious fear of returning to the strawberry grove, but no clear cause for it.

"I take you to the wood. You're safe there. We take a look around if we missed anything last time we were there. In the meanwhile Sylvia takes a good look at you while you're relaxed. If she
needs our help, she can meet us there, I'll leave a passage open for her. Like last time, you only need to lie down and close your eyes. Ok?" he asks to both the girls.

"Okay," Sylvia says with measured assurance.  "But would it be weird if I asked you to let us tie you up first?" she asks Alicia.

Alicia swallows. "Yeah, I guess so." There's a double-image flash again in her mind of conflicting emotions, dread/anticipation.

"We could go over to the gym at least. I'd rather lie down on the mats."


Alicia stares at Sylvia for a few seconds, then can't help but grin. "Kinky. I didn't know you had that side to you, Syl."

The humor is a thin attempt to hide the obvious trepidation at Sylvia's suggestion; not of the act, but the perceived need for it.

"Colin can set up the web cam," Sylvia says drily.  "We'll make a mint.

"But, seriously, Colin and I are squishy, and don't take this the wrong way:  I've seen bad things in your head.  If something goes down, I don't think either of us can run fast enough."

The bleakness in her voice says it all. "Fine. I'm sure you can find something that'll work. Not handcuffs, They wouldn't stop me for very long."

"I have super glue in my bag.  And a bottle of nail polish remover for later."

Sylvia is content to start now that she's done her bit to avert disaster.

The 'keep the monster constrained' part obviously rubbed Colin the wrong way, and all the kinky imagery was lost on him. He'd never believe Alicia would do any harm to them, no matter what they find in her head. In the end it takes more time for him to regain the necessary concentration than for Alicia to relax.

Finally, they're all ready. He hums something to himself, and two symbols on his arms glow faintly blue, one roughly for 'dream', the other for 'burrow'.

He runs his hand over Alicia's eyes, and they're both gone.

Just like last time, she appears on the grove, and Colin perched on the largest tree. He stops to take a look around in the distance before climbing down.

Back in the gym, Alicia had instinctively curled up in a fetal position as they prepared for the trip.

Now in the grove, Colin can see Alicia still curled up on the ground, unmoving. As he approaches, he realizes that the form on the ground is an effigy of Alicia rather than the real thing. And not a very good one. There are visible cracks on the skin, like fault lines on badly cured pottery or seams in a plastic figure.

"It's about f**king time you showed up again, Boy Shaman," a mocking voice echoed through the grove. Up in a tree, comfortably sitting on a branch, is Alicia. Sort of.

The girl looking down at Colin is dressed in an outfit similar to what he saw Alicia wearing at the mall. Boots, fishnet stockings, leather corset, gloves. Her body, though, is criss-crossed with visible scars, matching the ones he's seen on his friend, but starker and more prominent. Her clothing is ripped, as if she'd just come from a fight with a pack of dogs. The fingertips on her gloves are ripped off, ragged, displaying her clawed fingers. She's not wearing shades; her golden eyes look tauntingly down at Colin, filled with savage glee. Her mouth is curled in a cruel smile, a prominent canine peeking out of one lip.

Meanwhile Sylvia gets to work.  Her weekend workshops with Rob have paid off, particularly their investigation into the boundless utility of cyanoacrylate.  She smudges super glue onto the palms of Alicia's hands and adheres them to the skin of her midriff.  Then, satisfied the bond has hardened, she starts to delve, sinking into Alicia's brain and searching its depths with the meticulous care of an underwater demolitions expert.

It's clear something here didn't exactly go as planned, so Colin here activates his ghost sight, for good measure. Which of the two Alicias has the aura he would expect from his friend?

"What do you mean?"

What Sylvia finds is interesting. She travels a few layers down through Alicia's unconsciousness and suddenly breaks through into a conscious layer again. It's like burrowing down into the ground and suddenly popping up in China.

The Alicia that she's been sensing, that has been walking and talking from the day they first met, is a facade, a complex construct laid over an already existing structure. And the underlying consciousness is not at all happy about it.

An image comes back to Sylvia, a memory from that first day. Alicia's face, savagely twisted and scarred, yelling "Get out of my head!" when she first tried delving into the golden-eyed girl's thoughts.

Tough, Sylvia replies to the memory, too hardened by what's happened over the past few months to be fazed.  There's something about the dry, bleak tone of her telepathic voice that reminds her of Smith, she thinks, and she's not sure that's a good thing.  Who are you?

The Alicia on the ground emits the familiar aura, but it is dim, as if an internal light was turned off. The Alicia grinning from the tree like a life-size portrait of the Cheshire Cat has a familiar aura too, but stronger, rawer, the colors roiling like flames on a campfire.


"Well, you come in here, do your mumbo-jumbo, and just like a boy, leave me hanging before I can get my release."

The Alicia-thing stretches her arms, her slim torso barely contained by the battered corset. She leans back with the stretch, which turns into a back somersault off the branch and down into the ground. She moves sinuously around Colin, keeping her distance, her glowing eyes regarding him as if determining his nutritional value.

She delicately plucks a strawberry from a bush, and, daintily holding it with two claws, she bites into it, the juice running down her lips and chin, the erotic nature of the act blatant enough even for Colin.

The answer comes back in a snarl. I'm the girl who's gonna kick your ass if you don't stop poking me, that's who. It's Alicia, for sure, but more intense, like looking at a naked light bulb after taking the shade off.

Colin pretends not to be impressed by that.

"I had some trouble last time I came here. You had an uninvited guest I had to deal with. Still, I remember telling you eating those strawberries in not a good idea, as well as I remember taking you home with Rhys. Not that you needed me to. This place is not much different from a dream. you could just wake up. So, what do you mean I left you hanging? Why did you split this way? Splitting is another not good idea."

Yeah, Sylvia says, accepting the bravado for what it is.  Sorry, but you invited me in, and now that I'm here, you can yowl all you want, but you can't kick me out till I'm done.  So let's get to it and cut the empty threats to a minimum.  How long have you been here?

Savage Alicia rolls her eyes and makes a quacking gesture with her free hand. "Blah blah blah. Jeez, you sound like an old man already."

Licking her fingers clean, she purrs, "Yeah, I remember that encounter. Thanks for taking care of him; not my kind of dancing partner."

She continues her circuit around Colin, her steps light, her body flowing smoothly with pantherish grace.

"And this isn't a split. A better way of putting it would be, oh," she tosses her head as if seeking the right words in the air, "coming out of my shell. And let me tell you, that's one uncomfortable shell to be stuck in." She rubs her leg just underneath her crotch. "It chafed in all the wrong places."

Sylvia is the recipient of the mental equivalent of a razzberry. In an affronted tone, the inner mind answers, How long? What are you talking about? I've always been here. There's a stream of dark amusement at Sylvia's seeming lack of comprehension.

Okay.  Let's put it another way.  Who's that other girl?  How long has she been around?

You mean her? There is the impression of a finger pointing upwards to the external consciousness. Some f**king pendejo brought her in and let her take over, the whiny bitch. God knows how you people can stand her.

"It's because I am old. A part of me is. A place like this draws it out." Colin says in a deep voice slightly different from his usual one.


"His kind infects wounds. Now you make me wonder if the wound has healed well."


Colin starts sweating, but he tries to remain impassible.

"You're not a hermit crab, Alicia. And though you're beautiful, you're not a butterfly either. You can change. It's a healthy thing to do. What you're doing now is not. You're leaving a part of you in what you call your shell. You're going to miss it."

She's nice to people, sometimes.  She doesn't threaten to kill us much.  I understand she's good in the sack.  What's not to like?

Sylvia is the detective in the interrogation room--good cop for now.  So when did this happen?  Weeks ago?  Months ago?

"Really? And is your older self... experienced?" The appraising look becomes a wee bit more inquisitive.


"That old thing?" she waves her hand dismissively at the broken effigy. "Please. I was doing quite fine until it came along. I mean, really, did you think I was always as weak and pathetic as her?"

She rolls her eyes again and stretches, luxuriating in her sense of freedom. "It just feels soooo good to be out. No binds, no restrictions, no annoying guilt pangs. You can't imagine what it's like."

She stops and her eyes glow dangerously. "But then, you probably do. You've always been such a goody-two-shoes. Always proper and considerate, so kind and understanding. I bet there's someone in you who wouldn't mind coming out and having some fun." She sensuously licks her lips.

She resumes her circular stalking. "This is a dream place, like you said. What happens here, stays here, right? You could fulfill a fantasy, make a dream come true, and it wouldn't matter out there, hmmm?"

I can be nice. If I wanted to. And what makes you think it's not me who Rhys sleeps with at night? Some rather pornographic images flit across the mental landscape.

Y'know, I bet your sweet baboo's a good roll in the hay too once he gets a good head of steam. You might want to take advantage of that. Before someone else does...


Do I look like I have a watch down here? I know what you're getting at. Yes, the mind-f**ker did this. I guess he decided I wouldn't feel guilty enough about what I did to suit his fancy, so he made me all weepy and whiny and angsty. Yecch! There is the sound like a cat coughing up a hairball.

Sylvia shrugs that off with aplomb.  This is her world, where she is like unto a god.  The mean Alicia's kitty-cat swipes are nothing more than the paddle-pawed blows of a clawless kitten.


I'm sorry, Sylvia says wryly.  You're going to have to be more specific.  Which mindfucker?

Oh my. Could it be that the great mind-sifter actually doesn't have all the answers? Here, I'll give you the ten-cent tour. Make sure to keep your limbs inside the vehicle at all times.

A series of mental images in full Sensurround bombard Sylvia's awareness. Her happy life as a juvenile delinquent with Marco as her mentor, leader, and lover. The brutal and merciless training under the Master. The job, a kaleidoscope of adrenaline, sweat and blood, crashing into slivers at the end. The severe beating, held immobile by ropes and the mind-f**ker's control as an angel with white hair gleefully pounds her to a pulp. The agony as her mind, her self, is kneaded and twisted like so much dough to the mentalist's whims.

Happy now?

That touches a nerve.  Sylvia's mind replies with its own welter of fast-forward images:  the witches, Torrance, an explosion, Strange.  Hatred.  Anger.  Deep and unfiltered.

Her control reasserts itself like an ice floe, but the Master's face stays.

So what do we do?  Do we obliterate the Alicia we know and like and let you out to rip up everything around you?  I know you.  I remember you.  And let's face it, you're kind of a bitch.

The consciousness facing Sylvia laps it up, reveling in the unfettered emotion. It's not that the inner Alicia is masochistic; she seems to accept any and all sensations with equal fervor. There's a thread of increased respect that appears at seeing that Sylvia has been tested and tempered.


Inner Alicia divines the intent behind the image. Wrong one. He's not the mind-f**ker. He's... the Master.

The weight given the name carries some disturbing elements. His presence is like the other side of the coin to Jack's. Sylvia now recalls the reasoning behind Alicia calling Jack sensei. It's her way of differentiating the two in her mind.

There is no memory of the mentalist's face in Alicia's mind. Just an impression that she instinctively shies away from, like a hand avoiding a flame.


Musical laughter peals across space.

Takes one to know one, chica. The point is, what are you willing to do? Free the real Alicia, or perpetuate the violation done to me, and show your true colors as just another mind-rapist?

"It does feel good to be true to one's self. But you see, here's the catch. While you were her you've grown into her a bit. Cutting her out now, it's a bit like cutting your left feet to lose weight. It works, sure, but we both can think of better options."

He takes a good look at the nearly empty shell, then back at the more lively Alicia.

"You know I won't force anything on you. It's not what I came here for. I came here to help you. As a friend, I have to warn you of something you might come to regret."


Colin's eyes get a little sad.

"I've got my own problems, Allie. You see the surface of me, but you don't really know me all that well. But I don't split myself. I'm not a person here and another outside. I'm just one guy. A dumb guy if you want, but one. So nothing is going to happen here that it wouldn't happen outside."

I'll have to get back to you on that, Sylvia says and then absents herself from Alicia's mind.

In the sparring room she opens her eyes and regards the unconscious Alicia, feeling as curiously empty as she always does after looking too hard at someone's soul.  Pity.  You get to know and begin to like someone, only to find out the part you liked was just a sham.  Sylvia learned her lesson months ago:  don't look too hard at anyone around you; the secrets people keep are for your own protection.

She sighs, feeling old and sick.  She takes off her cardigan, folds it into a pillow, and makes a comfy spot for herself, head on Colin's legs, feet on Alicia's.  A triangle:  heart, mind, body.  She launches herself into astral space and chases them down.


"Thank god for that," Sylvia says, materializing beside them.  She always looks older here, heavily scarred and with all the perky bounce of childhood wrung out of her.  "I see you've met the other one," she tells Colin.  "What do you think we should do?"

Colin thinks about it, then goes to Alicia discarded shell. He drives his hand through her chest, to reach at the bubble of faint light still there. He takes it out, and the rest of the statue crumbles into dust.

"We should let her decide." he says, holding the bubble carefully in his hands.

"Allie, this is what you're leaving behind. The good part. All the rest, the part you've grown to hate, it's there to be swept away by the wind. This is what you're giving up. I think you shouldn't, but I'm not going to force you to keep it if you decide that's not what you want. I'm not even sure I could do anything about it. Would you please give it just a look before you decide?"

Alicia examines the arrived Sylvia with an arched eyebrow, and nods in respect. They both carry the marks that life has laid on them, and Alicia now knows Sylvia's scars are as well-earned as hers.


Alicia looks mulishly at Colin. "And what happens if I say no? Will you just walk away and leave me in here again?" She glances at Sylvia as she says this.

"I already told you, I can't leave you here. I can't lock this place, it's more yours than mine. I'm going to help you get out, if you really think you can't do it on your own. You should wonder, though, if you say you can't, if that's what you really want."

"And I can lock you in here," Sylvia says.  "But if you want my opinion?  We fix you and let you go.

"Of course, if you go back to who you were, you won't be able to count on anyone to stand by you or put up with your shit.  That's not a threat.  That's an observation."

Alicia's mouth peels back in a mirthless grin. "Never say 'fix' to a cat, Syl."

Her face flows back to its stubborn set. "And what makes you think I need any of you? Who says I can't get out of here on my own?"

For all the bravado in her voice, it's paper thin. As raw as this Alicia is, it's hard for her to hide her true emotions.

Sylvia does her best Tommy Lee Jones impersonation.  "I don't care.

"This is your call, honey.  I don't know about Colin, but I've been blamed for your trauma one time too many.  You make the decision; I'll carry through.  But it's all on you, mami.  It's all on you."

"You don't need us. And you're strong enough you could face your whole life counting only on yourself."

He smiles. "But that's not what you'd like, is it?"

Sylvia's statement seems to satisfy some point in Alicia's mind. There is only a slight lessening of her obstinate stand, though.


The barb strikes home. Alicia crosses her arms to hold herself as she looks away. "So you're saying I have to be weak to be accepted?" she asks, bitterly.

"Weak?"  Sylvia throws Colin a look.  She can't believe the shit that comes out of Alicia's mouth.  "Lady, you're the definition of poor impulse control.  You do whatever you want, whenever you want, and screw the people who try to be nice to you.  For fuck's sake.  If I behaved like that, I'd be lying in a fucking asylum with Torrance fucking Shipman."  Sylvia's an angrier person than she thought.  She'll have to watch that.

"Self-control isn't weakness.  Consideration for others isn't weakness.  'Cause anyone can kill, Alicia.  Anyone with a gun can be a two-bit bullying hood.  But it takes balls to fight like a hero."

Alicia cocks her head at Sylvia's outburst. It's as if the emotion charged into the words give them greater weight in her estimation.

"I don't do whatever I want, I do what needs to be done," she counters. "Life is a battle, and anyone telling you different is just setting you up for the sucker punch. You have to fight for your place in it, and for whatever else you need to survive. Compassion can be a weakness, because it makes you vulnerable, gives away control to someone else. And, in the end, who can you trust?"

The words carry the weight of a lesson beat into her, taken as an article of faith by the constant battering against her will.

"You can't trust anyone," Sylvia agrees.  It was never in doubt for her.  "We're all wormy apples, down deep.  But that doesn't excuse us from trying to trust and trying to live up to trust.  You give that up, and you might as well be an animal in the jungle--eat, fuck, die.  And enjoy your pointless, selfish life.  Just stay the hell away from me."

She's seen too much of that.  It's like poison, so much direct exposure to the squirrelly, private lusts of the human heart, and Sylvia's pretty sure it's going to kill her someday.

"But it's easier for you. You can peel the layers and look inside, see the worms and tell who you can trust. All I have is the catch in their voice, the skip of their heart, the smell of their fear, to tell me when they are lying.

"And we are all rotten underneath. We cheat, steal and lie, tell ourselves that we're doing it for the right reasons. At least I don't try to hide that. Even if I agreed to... take that back," she points to the glowing bubble in Colin's hands, "that's not going to change."

Colin points the bubble of light he's holding around as a flashlight, and images start forming around them.

Colin and Alicia on a roof, rain falling everywhere but on them.

Laney hammering some history into her.

Jack rebuking her attacks, appealing to the woman within the beast.

Rhys in angel form, flying her to safety from the explosion around them.

And finally her mother, in several poses, laughing with her, kissing her as she's falling asleep, waiting for her worriedly when she doesn't come home, slapping her in a burst of anger and immediately regretting it, and holding a little Alicia close in a nice warm hug.

"Nonsense." he says, shaking his head. "Life might be a war, but wolves have packs, birds have flocks, lions have prides. Humans have their comrades. One can fight alone, but it's far from the only way to fight."

"Fighting is also a calculated risk. You open yourself to strike. So can be trusting people. It might be worth the risk." he says looking at the scenes around them.

Sylvia, cynicism roused to full height, bites back the urge to tell Colin he's like an after-school special.  She presses her lips into a line and watches Alicia.

Colin is about to get really angry, if the strawberries around his feet mean anything.

"Ok, I'm going to let you on some deep secret of the universe, you seem to have forgotten. Nothing is perfect. Nothing. The world is not built that way and wherever you look for something rotten, you'll find it. If you don't take a shit every now and then, you die. You can't take shit out of life. But don't come and tell me life is only shit. You both know you've been deeply loved, and for no selfish reason, other than it felt good to do so. So, not everyone is nice, and we all have our flaws. Of course we have. But if you think even for a moment there's only that, don't dare to say you're going 'deep' or 'underneath'. You're just two emo girls posing at being depressed."

Sylvia narrows her eyes at Colin.  She knows what he's steering for, but she doesn't think acting the part will help any more than maintaining the fraud of Alicia's shell personality.  "You're a jackass in so many ways," she says, and leaves it at that with a profound exertion of will.

"And you," she tells Alicia, "make up your goddamned mind already.  Trust me.  Even if you take what Colin's got there, it's not permanent.  You're not stuck with it.  All it is is a bundle of good memories, good feelings, happy, shiny thoughts.  It's all stuff you really did and felt and had, and it comes with a money-back guarantee.  We can take every bit of it out later."

"Oh, not at all. It's not the memories. No one touches your memories. It's not like if you say you don't want it tomorrow you won't remember this stuff. It's your life, and you can't run away from it, at least not without cheating, and even then not really."

He takes a step closer to Alicia. When he does, she sees the bubble is more a ball of string.

"It's the bonds. That's why you feel it weighs you don't and it doesn't let you feel free. It's what you feel ties you down to these memories, to these events, to these people. You can cut it all away, you can sever it. Any time you want. And sure, you'll feel really free."

Alicia nods. "You said it, girl."


Alicia jerks as the beam of Sylvia's barrage points back at her.


"But," she says uncertainly, "How can I be sure they're really mine? I've been stuck in a lie this long, how can I be sure I'm not just being a sucker again?"

"They'll only be what you make of them. If you want them to be true, make them true. Or discard them."

Sylvia looks up at the deep, starry sky and groans.  "Don't you think, if we wanted to spin you, we would've done it by now?  Don't you think we could do it any time we wanted?"  All right.  That's dodging responsibility.  "I mean, don't you think that, if I wanted to fuck you in the head, it'd take about a blink, and you'd be purring in my lap, asking for catnip?

"Why start now?"

Alicia looks at Colin with narrowed eyes. "So I'll be in control of them, no matter what."


"Because seeing your victim embrace her doom of her own free will is so much sweeter," Alicia replies absently, staring at the glowing ball of yarn (for that is what it looks like now) in Colin's hands. There is something chilling in the matter-of-fact way she says it.

"Well, just as much as we all are. But yes."


"No, I'm not into that. I'm a male." he says, apparently serious.

If Sylvia's telepathy worked better in this part of astral reality, she'd know what Colin was talking about, but as it is, she can only keep her mouth shut and hope Alicia takes the bait.  Or not.  Either way she's not sure what difference it'll make.

"You got that right, Y-chromosome," Alicia mutters, still studying the cause of all the commotion.

Her golden eyes swirl with the reflection of her memories, wrapped up with string like a Christmas present. Whatever thoughts cross her mind as she looks down at the shining bauble lying there are her own. And maybe Sylvia's, if she decides to peek.

With a grunt, she brings up a hand, claws extended. Slowly, she reaches down and plucks the ball of yarn from Colin's grasp. She lets out the breath she was holding with a sigh, whether in relief or resignation is hard to tell.

She bounces the ball on her hand, looking askance at Colin. "Now what, Medicine Boy?"

The loose ends of the strings begins to unravel and to wrap gently around her wrist, her neck her waist, until she's inside the ball of yarn and the ball of yarn is inside her again, together with the significance of what her memories are to her. Of how she fits into them and they fit into her. And of how much her life has changed in the last few months.

Colin waits outside with a smile. "Now nothing. You took your choice and are one again. I hope you'll feel better now. You'll probably have some adjusting to do, but I trust you'll be all right. You got out of worse messes and something tells me you'll keep on doing that in the future."

"I think we can all go home, now."

If the girls don't object, the sun start getting brighter and bigger and so does Colin's shadow, until they blink and their eyes open in Jack's gym.

Alicia blinks slowly, her eyes adjusting to the dimness of the room. She lifts her head to look around, then rises to a sitting position, studying her glued hands with slight irritation.

She turns her gaze to Colin. "I'm torn between ripping your face off and kissing it," she says, conversationally. "So I'll just stick to saying... thanks."

Colin shakes his head. "I haven't done anything you couldn't have done or figured on your own. And Sylvia's the one who noticed you were in some distress. Your thanks should go to her."

Sylvia takes a minute to wake up, or so it seems.  She's picking through the mess Alicia's mindfucker left behind, loosening the sticky strands of his web and letting them blow away.  She gives his work a thoughtful inspection and takes notes, just in case she should ever run into him again.

Her eyes open, and she pushes herself up onto her elbows.  She fishes in her bag for the nail polish remover and a cloth with which to apply it.  "I need to talk to this Marco guy.  He's around, isn't he?  He was at one of Elrod's parties?"

Alicia looks at Sylvia and says, "Thanks," but there's a different level of context to the word, an acknowledgment of debt.


Alicia sits expressionless as Sylvia applies the remover. "Marco is mine," is all she says.

"I don't want to date him," Sylvia says with a touch of exasperation.  "I don't even want to hurt him.  I just want to see what he knows about the mentalist who did this to you."

"You don't need him for that," Alicia replied, keeping the same tone. "Jack's got the skinny on him and the Master. They've tangled in the past.

"The mind-f**ker's power only works on women. It might not even be psionic-based, which means you may not be immune to it. As for the Master... you can't take him on. Trust me."

She grimaces for a moment, then continues. "Jack's pretty much promised me he'll deal with the mind-f**ker when the time comes. When that happens, Marco will be fair game." The implicit promise in that last sentence is heavy with dark intent.

Alicia's face stretches into a feral grin. "If I'm a good girl, Jack might even let me have a whack at Angel." The implication in that statement makes Marco's intended fate sound almost pleasant.

Sylvia's frustrated urge to kick the crap out of Torrance Shipman is frustrated once again, by proxy.  She gets the last of the super glue off Alicia's skin and presses to her feet, wobbling a little from hunger and the late hour.  "I'm going to crash on Jack's couch."

Her eyes settle on Colin, and she remembers what he called them.  Emo.  Dismissive bastard.  He has no idea.  "Thanks."

Alicia studies Sylvia's face as she rubs her hands. Despite her lack of telepathic abilities, she picks up the vibe of her friend's thoughts. She flashes a grin of sisterly solidarity.

"I'm gonna work off some energy then head out," she explains, looking towards Colin expectantly.

"Have a good night, girls. See you tomorrow."

The nod he gives to Alicia is quite warmer than the one he gives to Sylvia. There's obviously something he's not saying there. But he leaves.

Alicia looks back at Sylvia after Colin's out of sight . A slight chortle escapes her lips.

"Want me to nuke a pizza pocket for you, Syl?" she asks, as she heads to the kitchen.

Sylvia should be wary, probably.  This new cocktail of old Alicia, minus some guilt, plus some pre-packaged emotional ties, could be a psychopath for all she knows.  But frankly, in order to worry she'd have to feel something, and the problem with picking through the floating concepts and fluid emotions that comprise someone's personality is that it's easy to see how everything she thinks and feels might be nothing more than a neurochemical illusion.  That thought always leaves her feeling a little empty and numb as if she could, with the burgeoning strength of her empathy, crush herself out.  That would probably be a bad thing, probably.

"Yeah, that would be great," she says, dragging herself down the hall after Alicia.  She sits at the kitchen table with its gingham oilcloth cover and puts her head down next to the porcelain rooster who guards the salt and pepper shakers.  Who decorated this place?  Martha Stewart?

"So you're feeling all right?  Everything as it should be?"  As she asks, she's like a doctor, taking the patient's pulse in oscillations of mood and increments of thought.

Alicia presses the buttons on the microwave oven and stops to think as the machine buzzes.

"I guess. Things feel... clearer, like I was looking at the world through a plastic sheet before."

Her emotional state is back to being the rushing river, smooth and sleek but with slight turbulences from small obstacles and vaguely-defined shapes swimming just under the surface.

She examines her gloved hands thoughtfully, then casually peels the gloves off, revealing her clawed hands. "I'm going through things in my head, things I've thought and felt and I'm wondering, why did I ever think or feel that?"

As she speaks, she stiffens and relaxes her fingers, causing the claws to extract and retract.

"You're worried that I may be a psychopathic killer now, that whatever held me back is now gone," she says conversationally. "What would you do if I was?"

"Die," Sylvia says matter-of-factly.  "Maybe scream once or twice.  Just don't leave me on the porch or in someone's shoe."

Alicia chuckles darkly, shaking her head with a grin. "Somehow I doubt that."

She leans against the counter with her arms crossed, the gloves tossed carelessly behind her. She lets the silence fill the space between them. Not an uncomfortable silence, but merely the quiet of two people to whom talking is not currently a need.

The microwave oven beeps, and Alicia reaches in to retrieve the steaming hot mini-pie, disregarding the heat of the plate as she handles it and deposits it on the table.

"I'm checking something out in the basement. Be right back."

Alicia glides over to the basement door and moves silently down the stairs out of sight.

Sylvia touches her fingertips to the pizza pocket, but it is, as per the label, 'Caution:  Hot.'  She decides she's going to let it cool--with her eyes closed, and a bubble of spit puffing softly from the corner of her mouth.

The basement is cool and dark, but Alicia knows where to go and navigates the dim, cluttered room without problem.

The unassuming oblong cardboard box lies tucked into one of the many shelves. Alicia tugs it out and puts in on the nearest available horizontal surface. She opens it to study the object stored within.

One of the Master's blades, a souvenir of Jack's from a previous encounter with Alicia's former teacher. Even in the low light, the metal gleams with the promise of mayhem.

She slowly and carressingly runs a clawed finger along the extended leather-wrapped handle and then the cold steel blade. Her muscles twitch with the memory of countless painful training lessons, learning the deadly dance that the sword could evoke and which now was as familiar to her as breathing or walking.

With a weapon like this, she could scythe through her foes, snarling with savage glee as they fell before her in a tangle of blood and death. The Master's face fills her mind's eye, beckoning her to take up the sword and fulfill its destiny.

Her lips pulled back in a mirthless grin, she growls in a low voice, "Fuck you, asshole. I'm no one's bitch anymore."

With not a trace of reluctance, she covers the box back up and returns it to its storage place. At the foot of the stairs, her sharp ears catch the sound of Sylvia's rhythmic breathing. With a chuckle, she noiselessly floats up the stairs, ready to carry her friend and tuck her in the couch.

The front door opens, and the sound of two people coming in can be heard.  One is Jack, and the other is a woman.  She's laughing, "No, really.  There he was covered in the stuff and all he could think to say was, does anyone have any tobasco."  She laughs again and the pair come into the kitchen to see Sylvia at the table and Alicia emerging from the basement. 

"Oh, hello."  the woman says.  She's perhaps in her late forties, with a hair style that went out of vogue about twenty years ago.  Her skin is tanned, but shows the signs of age.  she shifts her self slightly away from Jack, as though her proximity had been somehow inappropriate in the presence of the girls.  She is bundled against the cold in a wool coat, which hides her figure.

"Kim, these are my daughters.  Faith and Goodness."  Jack says.  "Girls, this is Kim."  Kim waves with a shuffle of her fingers and smiles nervously.

"I should go.  I had a wonderful time."  She says, moving back towards the door.

"Stop."  Jack says.  He walks over to her and takes her purse and then starts to unbutton her coat.  "Through there is the living room, you go on and give me a few minutes with the girls."  She looks like she might object, which he counters with a finger to her lips.  "Go on."  at which she nods, pushing her lips into a flat smile.  A moment later she's gone and Jack is in the kitchen opening a bottle of wine.  "How are things with you two?"

Alicia watches the whole exchange with bemusement. She waves to Kim as she's introduced and manages to keep a straight face throughout.

At Jack's question, she shrugs. "Doing as well as expected," she explains with a straight face. "We had a three-way orgy with Colin in the gym and she," Alicia hooks a thumb at Sylvia, "was sleeping it off. Sorry for the cock-block there, sir. I can take Sleeping Beauty home if you want."

Jack chuckles in amusement.  "Cock block?  That's good, I'll have to remember that one."  He gets two glasses from the cabinet.  "So, Colin and Sylvia and you.  Am I to assume then that there was mental redecorating being done?"

Sylvia, still bleary, doesn't wake up to the sound of Jack's voice so much as she wakes up to Kim's presence.  "Curtains match the rug," she mumbles and swipes the back of her hand against her drool.

Alicia unconsciously resumes her earlier position, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. "Pretty much. Colin hadn't cleaned out all of the mind-fucker's toys so we did a little spring-cleaning. I'm feeling much better now."

There's a thread of tension under her relaxed stance. She studiously avoids drawing attention to the discarded gloves on the counter.

Jack looks at Sylvia, "Eat your pizza pocket before it gets too cold.  Those things are nasty cold."  he says, taking the glasses and wine he heads towards the living room.  "Close the door behind you when you leave."  he says as he disappears into the other room.

Alicia looks at the bleary Sylvia and whistles silently, waggling her hand as if shaking off sweat.

She snags her gloves and moves over to help her friend off the chair. "C'mon, chica. We are definitely a crowd right now."

Sylvia just puts her palms to her forehead and makes a face.  "Yes, please," she says, deadpan.  "Jack is thinking sexy thoughts, and it burns.  Oh god, it burns."

She grabs her bag and escapes into the night with Alicia.

On the walk home, Alicia is giggling like a loon.

"Did you see her face when they walked into the kitchen? Oh my God, when he introduced us as his daughters I was this close to saying, 'But Daddeee! You promised me tonight was my turn!'"

She dissolves into gales of laughter.

Sylvia shouldn't encourage Alicia, but she can't not grin.  "You have to cut him some slack, though.  He's so rusty he doesn't use KY.  He uses WD-40."

Sylvia's comment just triggers another bout of racuous laughter.

Finally, Alicia wipes tears from her eyes and sobers up. "OK, you look like you can manage the rest of the way on your own. I got a couple of things to wrap up before I hit the sack."

Sylvia says good-night and absents herself down the sidewalk.

Alicia watches her go, grateful Sylvia didn't push about her plans. After this night, she hopes that maybe their relationship will improve. It's not wise to get on the wrong side of a mentalist.

She calmly puts her gloves back on and replaces the goggles she had stashed in her bag back on her head.

There's a herd of drug dealers down on Austin that still needs some culling. Alicia's eyes gleam at the thought.

OOC: And I'm done.