I saw our newest member settled in a little bit, then wandered past the kitchen and saw Lucky having a sandwich, for all the world as if nothing at all bizarre was going on. I paused at the door and then went on to my own room, wondering as I did so if that wasn't too subtle, if she would understand what I was trying to say without speaking. I guess she did, because a little while later a quiet knock sounded, I said, "Come in," and she did.
    I don't think she's ever been in my room before; she took up most of it, even sitting very still at the foot of the bed, fidgeting a little with her gloves the way she does. She looks awful, by the way—she's hard to hurt, but falling a thousand feet, through a building, into some guy's basement, after fighting it out with an overarmed titanium arachnid isn't light duty.
    We'd never really talked before this. For most of the time I've known her she's been pretty touchy about revealing anything personal. For the past couple of months I've probably been worse. Anyway, she told me some things about herself. I found out a few about me, too. Wish I felt better about any of it.
    One or both of her parents were involved with the Mob in New York, I'm still not quite sure. They're both dead. She went into the family business when she was fourteen, and spent her career there as an "enforcer." She tortured and killed people for them. She was really good at it.
    I can't honestly say I was surprised, not after the past two days, but I'm... shocked, I think. Hearing her say that makes everything seem more real, somehow. More serious, if that's possible. And it's pretty damn weird, to say the least, to look at the woman I've been sharing a home with for the past couple of months, who's watched my back when I'm not watching hers and has actually saved my life a couple of times, and then try to reconcile this person with... with that. I don't quite know how to react even now, when I've watched the clock tick through two hours since the door closed behind her.
    Change hurts. I know that, I've spent enough nights lately staring into the abyss of the future, trying to see a signpost somewhere. I can't even really imagine what she's already gone through, and it looks like there's still a ways to go. Chandler's been helping her, I guess. She actually apologized for driving me nuts these past couple of months—"I'm sorry about all that stuff about your family and how you don't have one and stuff." Like I didn't feel guilty enough already about what a bitch I've been lately. I allowed that I could have been nicer to her than I was.
    She didn't go into a whole lot of detail. There was a lot I didn't ask. For one, I didn't ask her how the hell, if as she says she actually does care what I think of her—and that's something I can't really fathom, I mean, when she's not being overbearingly protective she's just plain rude. I would never have dreamed she had any interest in anything I thought, witness this afternoon. And a million other examples I could mention. If she cared, how the hell could she pull a boneheaded stunt like she did earlier today, setting Aliese's place on fire?
    I also didn't ask how in the name of all deities she expected me to figure out what was going on with her, when she hasn't breathed word one about herself since we met, when her mood swings can make just living with her feel like being in a Poe story. And does she remember that the one time I did ask her about her past, she retorted that I should be glad I don't have one, and left it at that?
    I didn't ask, one because I really could have done more than I have lately to at least try to figure out what was up with her, and two I think I know what she'd say—she doesn't know herself. It doesn't occur to her that her direct approach to getting Aliese might have elements a normal person (ha, ha) might consider a little extreme. She still thinks like one of them. If I'm any judge of her reactions to the subject, the law is this vague, and vaguely irritating, abstraction that I'm always bitching at her about. As for the second question—well, she's obviously none too skilled at dealing with her own emotions, let alone anyone else's. I wish I had some ideas on how to get her to think a little differently. It looks like she might be starting to, at least.
    Forget me, we should have had Daedalus dig around in her skull for a while.
    I'm still angry. Knowing that the way she is isn't entirely her fault, doesn't make dealing with her much simpler. Did I think it was easy, she asked at one point and sounding as defensive as I've ever heard her, trying to rebuild your entire life in two weeks? What the hell does she think I've been doing lately?

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