Griplines: Part Two

by BJ Carlson

Part Three

The first thing she was aware of - the leading hint that something was off balance, came by way of a small body enthusiastically flinging itself against her legs. "Gwama Jean!" A small voice chortled - the sound sending her gaze flying downward in shock - and Jean Summers found herself staring into a pair of what were quite possibly the intentest, and darkest purple eyes, that she'd ever seen in her lifetime.

<What on earth?> Was her first thought, as the child tightened his death-grip on her thigh. Uncertain what else to do, she smiled weakly and patted her three foot admirer on the head. Her little tyke-sized attacker didn't seem to notice her surprise at seeing him, however: he was simply too busy radiating joyous elation at her presence, as he cuddled up closer and leaned a chubby cheek against one of her pant legs.

"Who's that at the door, Kieran?" A feminine laugh sounded from above her. She looked up to see a young woman carefully making her way down the wide stairway situated to her left. Just as the little boy had been, this approaching stranger seemed totally undisturbed at her appearance: actually greeting her with a affectionate squeeze when she reached the bottom stoop.

"Oh, hey there, Jean...I didn't know you were coming. Sorry, but you're too late if you're the latest recruit in operation 'distraction.' Mom's finally reached her tolerance limit; she flew the coop this afternoon. Seems she left a short note saying that she was going to pick up a drop off. I'll give you a free guess as to how a certain someone responded to *that* news.

The girl had stepped back from the embrace as she concluded her amused report, and it was all Jean could do not to gape openly as she received her first clear view of the speaker's ivory features. <Domino?> No, it couldn't be: this woman was at most twenty-five - probably younger. <And besides,> an inner voice intoned as she gazed into unfocusing lavender eyes, the last she'd heard, her son's best friend wasn't *blind.*

"Gwama, come with me!" The boy had continued chattering at her excitedly - obviously oblivious to his older visitor's state of confusion. He'd finally let go of his chokehold on her leg, trading it instead for a firm grip on her hand. "Come with me - pwease, Gwama, I show you something *really* cool..."

"Kieran, give her a minute." The sightless youth was laughing at... her brother? Her smile was patently affectionate as she swooped the squirming toddler up into her arms. "Let Gran take off her coat and put her shoes in the closet at least, 'kay? I promise your 'treasures' aren't going to go anywhere."

Buzzing the boy's belly noisily after he nodded in acceptance, she snuggled him close for a moment, then set him back on his feet with a gentle pat on the bottom. *Can you tell who's excited?* The telepathic query was tinged with dry humor. The girl's psi-sense was warm, but still it was all Jean could do not to jump at the unexpected contact of their minds.

"Kieran got a big surprise yesterday," The girl had resumed speaking as she handed Jean a hanger. "And he's been showing it off to everyone who comes through that doorway ever since." It was becoming apparent to Jean as she tucked her coat into the open closet that neither of her companions were really sensing her emotions. Instead it was more like she was filling the role of a character in somebody else's dream.

<Just play along, for now.> Comprehension was still miles beyond her. Some might have tried to say this was a waking dream - but by her understanding if that were the case, it would have ended the moment her conscious mind recognized it as such. Mimicking a sense of normalcy seemed the wisest course of action at present: True, she didn't know where she was - or *when* she was for that matter, but since she didn't sense she was in any danger, it seemed best to proceed by just observing her surroundings for the time being.

"Course I *told* him this would happen if he didn't give her some space - he of *all* people ought to know by now how Mom responds when she knows that people are trying to humor her." The dark haired girl shook her head and blew a loose strand of bangs off her forehead in disgust. "I just hope he gets that temper of his in control before he and Sam track her down, because if he doesn't, the odds are pretty good that he and Dresden will be fighting for rights to the doghouse for the next two months or so."

By this point, she'd been led into what Jean could only assume was the living room, where the now labeled Kieran abruptly abandoned his grip on her hand. He was heading straight toward a box in the far corner by a large sunken couch: "Look Nana - it's a bunch o' baby kittens!"

He bent over the makeshift crates to retrieve on of the mentioned creatures, and then thrust it unceremoniously into her hands, as if trying to prove himself. "They're beautiful honey." She ventured, unsure what else to say in response. Luckily, it seemed adequate praise for the moment, since Kieran nodded eagerly as she examined the ball of sleepy fur cradled in her palms.

Moments later, the little boy had snagged a kitten of his own to cuddle with, and Jean could see by his careful movements that someone had warned him about handling it gently. "Watch out there, Kieran....their bellies are still full of their dinner." Well that at least identified the just mentioned 'handling educator.' She watched the young woman sink carefully to the floor herself, then reach out to find her brother's charge with searching fingertips. "They're just little babies, Kieran...and they don't like being jostled....so don't be too rough with them, okay?"

"I know that Ema-lee...*I'm* not a baby ya know." The little boy's nose wrinkled with a look of long-suffering as he batted his sister's hands away. "But Mama says they're lonely - that they prob'ly miss *their* Mama. Besides, *everybody's* wanted ta hold em 'cept Dresden."

<My, word, this one's darling.> Jean couldn't hold back a smile at the boy's petulant reply. <It's a good thing that there isn't such a thing as a child being too adorable.> He was well loved, for certain, but most likely also fiercely independent - as was seen in both the haphazardly twisted gray overalls that he'd clearly fastened himself, and the fact that while did he have on matching shoes, he was also wearing two different colored socks.

"Nate found 'em yesterday." 'Emily' had snagged two of the kittens for herself, after her brother's rebuff. She was currently trying to free one from its grip on her sweater while keeping the other from wandering off her lap. "They were in a box by one of the drop-offs - abandoned as far as we can tell. Apparently Liz was with Papa when they found em, and she guilted him into bringing them home."

<Nate. She means *Nathan*.> As in her time-displaced son. Surprisingly, she realized the connection wasn't that big of a shock to her. It had been lurking in the back of her mind since she'd gotten her first look at Kieran's face. Perhaps this child had a bit more baby fat, but then Nate had still been fighting his TO infection - so he'd been naturally scrawnier when he was that age.

<And his eyes look just like...oh my gracious.> She couldn't stop the gloating grin that formed at *that* resemblance. <Now I can put in a decent bet in the couple's pool...*finally.*> "Emily, what day is it?" She felt slightly guilty even asking, but tried to justify the act by telling herself she wouldn't have been brought here like this if there hadn't been call for her to know.

<Besides, Jean...what's the point of telepathic precog if you can't cheat a bit, occasionally?> Considering how many times she and Scott had played fate already in regard to their son, it would be a pay back of karma to stack the deck just a little. She wasn't abusing the time stream any more then she ever had. She was just fulfilling her rightful role as overly-nosy mother.

"January 15th, the last time that I checked." Emily raised an eyebrow in surprise at older woman's question as she nodded her head toward her brother subtly. *Two and a half more weeks exactly till a certain someone's next birthday...and here you swore to me that after all the work we put into assuring his conception, you'd be even less likely to forget that event then you would be to reveal where you and Kai hid the now-famous padlock...*

********

She'd never been much of one for fairy tales - hadn't been able to see herself as a fairy princess, or even as the slightly dim-whitted Red Riding Hood. <Haven't been the wide eyed listener in years - and hey what do you expect...> Most women dreamed of falling for a Prince Charming in shining white armor... <And you Dom?> Well, she'd been half-adopted by the overmusled woodsman, who'd correspondingly thrown a royal fit worthy of a king when she left him in favor working for - and later falling in love with - what would probably most accurately be described as the 'Big Bad Wolf.'

The pressure in the water pipes was unstable at best, but at least the sheets of liquid falling on her bare were pleasantly warm. <I guess I should be greatful - I mean with my luck these days, avoiding Logan could have easily included getting hypothermia... Lucky me.>

How in the world *had* he found her, anyway? The more she thought about it, the more she was forced to wonder. And the more she wondered, the less she really wanted to know. Because the way that she saw it, there were really only two options:

<Either he went through outside sources, which I'll have to find and kill,> Or he'd actually spent most of last night checking local motels. Logic pointed to the latter, but she was disturbed by the idea - mostly because while thought should of irked her, like it would have back when they first met, right now a part of her was finding the concept almost disturbingly....sweet.

<Dom you've spent WAY too much time playing 'big sister/teacher.'> This sensitivity thing was getting *way* out of hand. Holding grudges was something she'd always done with a *relish* - so why was it lately she had neither the heart nor the energy to engage in what Logan used to teasingly claim was her favorite pastime?

<Blame it on the hangover...> It seemed the most appealing option. A little self delusion never hurt anyone - assuming it was used at it's proper intervals. The way she saw it, things could have gone far worse today, Nate could have found out *why* Logan had decided to drop by and insisted on coming along on the search to find her.

<And even if they'd managed to do *that* without killing each other in the process,> Which she *highly* doubted - no matter how stable they claimed this truce of their was supposed to be <...There's no *way* I would have gotten by without an explanation to Nate...> And she couldn't have lied to him even half as convincingly as she was going to have to try to when she made up a plausible story for Logan.

Nathan Dayspring was driving her absolutely crazy. <Well, actually, he's always done that,> but lately it seemed his weak attempts at not prying were making the intensity of it beyond even her capacity to stomach. <Okay - so maybe that's not quite the right explanation.> It wasn't prying exactly. It was just that he'd always been so blasted bad at masking his telepath's curiosity.

<It's been going on ever since his appearance Christmas Day.> Since he'd latched his eyes on hers after they'd accidentally brushed hands when she handed him the vegetable platter to pass to Terri. His left eye had flared brightly at the skin to skin contact...

<And then, suddenly, I was as much the prey to him as that blasted turkey.>

Nathan Dayspring was in his 'simmer stage'. And she was girding her loins in preparation for battle. The only thing that was more annoying then her best friend during one of his obsessive kicks was him during one of those down-periods in between runs, when he had the time to start overanalyzing life in general.

<He's adrift right now...unsettled.> Unsure what to do with himself. His messianic complex had forced to a stand-still, and now he seemed utterly lost on how to handle even the most basic functions of living. It was almost terrifying: the man had stopped the greatest threat known to the world, and yet now he was threatening to drive them both utterly *insane.*

Because he was incapable of dealing with his own *boredom.*

<Apocolypse is gone.> The whole thing seemed surreal. She'd heard the news when X-Force did, of course - and breathed a gasping prayer of relief to find out that the man was still breathing. She, however, hadn't asked for the details about the battle that had occurred: unlike the rest of the team, she hadn't *wanted* to know.

<The kids can try and wring the story out of him, or hear it from someone on one of the other X-teams.> She didn't give a flonquing damn about how he'd 'stormed the castle.' There wasn't an ounce of glory in it...just a life full of struggle. <Besides these guys are too damn young...they don;t realise yet...>

Sometimes she doubted that even *Nathan* understood that some stories never got the privilege of being over.

Her hands were going on auto pilot: wet, soap, scrub, rinse. The faint smell of cinnamon from the lather was mixing with the shower's hazy steam. Ducking under the spray again, she closed her eyes and let the water run down over her face. Reaching out blindly with one hand for the shampoo she'd set on the tub's rim as she did so.

<He knows something's going on - knows that there's a change in our link.> She was more then aware he was itching for answers about a lot of things. But she wasn't sure herself what was happening, <It's just so damn *complicated* even if I *wanted* to explain.> And letting him in on her newest suspicions wasn't exactly high on her 'I can't wait to do' list.

<One thing's for sure - he's gotten better at patience.> She was halfway amazed he'd held out against the silence this long. Nate did understand privacy, yes - so far as he was willing to tolerate it. And so long as he didn't think it was at least partly his business, too.

<Heck, a few years ago, he'd have lasted about 24 hours.> And then he'd have cornered her alone somewhere and asked her outright. And if *that* hadn't worked, he'd have tried to start a fight and literally kick the truth out of her. <But then I suspect he's ready to do that any day now -which is exactly why I'm never taken him up on the offer to revive our private morning exercise sessions.>

So he was biding his time, right now. He'd still demand explanations at some point. It was just against his nature for him to do otherwise. <Well no problem there, Nate...> Hell, she'd be glad to tell him everything. <All he has to do first is stop being a member of the Summers Family, dump the martyr complex, and start spending his afternoons at the mall.>

My, my - someone was a getting little bitter. <No - a LOT bitter, actually.> But then hey - she was entitled: to put it mildly, she'd had a bad year. A hand went to the back of her neck, finding a now well worn scar with rough fingertips. <Well you know what Dad said once: surgery was always bad for my temper....not to even mention what is does for my hairstyle...>

She sighed, <Relax, Neena.> There was no point in opening that scrapbook. At least the stupid thing was out of commission, now - thanks to Jesse. Her reflexes were better then they'd been for years, too - since she'd put them through such a run before the implant was switched off.

<So enough with the pity party. Now what do we tell Logan?> The key, she knew, was not to get in too deep. As she'd heard her mother say once - back when she was almost too young to remember - the key to an accurate deception was not just picking materials carefully, but all knowing how tightly to weave the strands.

'Tell them too much...and they'll think it's too easy. The best way to go is to give them just as many questions as answers, and hopefully they won't feel the need to prod much further.' She had to calm her mind. <That's the one thing I *did* finally get.> Her mother's training had centered on maintaining a kind of emotional balance. "Take the central things that you are - then mold the rest of the parts around it. Learn how to do that, Mayn...and you can be *anyone.*>

"Well it's not Tracking, that for sure." But it was close enough for now. Leaning back into the spray again, she drew a deep breath and shifted her shields, carefully. Ever since the incident three weeks ago, she'd been sure to keep her defenses around the psi-ink at maximum. "Cause if I can see his dreams then he might also be able to see *mine.*"

The extra blocking was holding firm with no leaking or cracking, and she sighed in relief as she tested it gingerly. Skills or not, policing her mind was still a draining function...

Which was why, later, she'd admit she never saw it coming.

********

She'd never, in all the fourteen years of her life, been so completely glad to see a toilet. Some people called this piece of plumbing the 'porcelain God' - and in her opinion the name definitely seemed to fit, considering that whenever she found herself in it's presence she also found herself on her knees.

At risk of stating the obvious, she *hated* throwing up. <Note to self, give up on eating entirely.> Sure, mashed potatoes with strawberry yogurt on top may have sounded good going down, but they were nothing less the *revolting* when they decided it was time to make their way back up.

*You're not being fair, you know.* Her hand rubbed her lower abdomen imploringly, *I mean, I know you're not intending to make me miserable....but really.* Assuming her unborn baby was making her sick just for kicks was a bit extreme in any circumstances - but in moments like this, when she was too tired to even move, it took all she had not to start pointing fingers in blame.

Another round of the heaves struck right on time as she reigned in the thought, and it was all she could do to brace herself with both hands over the bowl before they began. At least the intensity of the spasms were finally beginning to decrease - though even that itself was probably more truthfully due to the fact that after a half hour of this, her stomach simply didn't have anything left to come up.

"Mayna?" The worried voice followed the sound of a slamming door. She slammed her eyes shut and sighed in regret, allowing her neck to drop against the bowl as she recognised it's source. <Papa *doesn't* need to see this.> Her father had a large enough guilt complex already. The man worried too much about the stress of this pregnancy already - and besides, couldn't she be allowed to keep just a *little* of her pride?

"Mayna," Two black boots had come through the open doorway. She heard a frustrated sigh as her father went over to the main cupboard, pulling open the doors. "Jai'maena, your mom called me about an hour ago. Apparently Taryn contacted her to make sure everything was all right when you didn't make it for your studies this morning as usual." Chance Danton shook his head as he wet a washcloth with warm water, and then rung it out and bent to wipe her face gently. "You should have called us. Come on, how may times do we have to cover this? You are *not* supposed to be alone if it gets this bad. "

"Da...just be *quiet.*" She finally raised her eyes to meet him. And he didn't miss the look of exhausted irritability on her face. "I'm okay...all right? I just shouldn't have eaten what I did for breakfast, Now for goodness sakes, will you just stop hovering over me?!"

The spasms started again at the words...this wave more violent then the last had been. Chance's eyes widened sharply, and he stepped forward to brace his daughter's head and lower back as she trembled. ^^Oh that was just *great* love.^^ A sarcastic voice sounded in his head. ^^If if it's not bad enough that she's too sick to stand by herself, now you have to make her mad...mind if I join the party?^^

Karysha Danton had been standing in the bathroom door until then - arriving home herself just a few moments after her husband. Now she moved across the tile floor to kneel down beside her daughter - still frowning at her bonded's careless words.

*Jai'maena it's all right...take a deep breath and relax.* The psi-print of the mother was deliberately flooded with love as she simultaneously reached out to rub her daughter's stomach as she spoke. <Dammit Jai'm...what'd they do to you?> She wished again for more medical training. It was bad enough what those butcher's had done to her child's mind - but with her this sick, her doctor's phobia was nothing short of disastrous.

**Chance if she's not better by tomorrow morning, I don't care what it costs - we're knocking her out and taking her to the doctor.**

Her husband's eyes crinkled in worry as they exchanged look, and he reached out to rub their daughter's back. He clearly didn't like it, either, but he too knew there wasn't really any other choice.

"Mayna, I'm sorry. I know you feel cruddy. And I didn't mean to set either of our tempers off." She'd been leaning her against her mother's chest - wrapped in the comforting link, but she opened her eyes and lifted her head at the anguish in her father's words. The dark green eyes that looked back were overflowing with apology. "You know I just don't think to smart when I get worried about you. Running at the mouth is a family trait, I think."

She actually chuckled raggedly, struggling to maintain a weak smile. <Come on Mayna, pull yourself together, already.> He'd worked hard to give her an out. <...so don't waste it. already.> Taking the washcloth from his outstretched hand, she wearily wiped her mouth, then squared her shoulders, cloaking herself in what was left of her dignity.

"I think I'd like to lie down now...and maybe try and drink something. Hey Dad, could you manage to make us all some tea?" She winked exageratedly at her mother at that point, "On second thought, maybe you should make it mom, Mom. Ya know - to make sure that he doesn't get anywhere near the ketchup."

"Goodness sakes, I'm never gonna stop hearing about that one am I?" Chance seemed to pick up on her intentions, and had the good grace to play along as he gently scooped her from the floor. "Oh come on..it wasn't that bad...they say Ketchup's supposed to go with *everything.* And it's not like you got food poisoning or anything..."

"No, of course not Chance - you waited till you tried making raspberry chicken for that one." Karysha willingly joining in the exchange as she smiled at her husband glibly.... "Take her into the living room, Love - I'll get a deck of cards and the drinks. First round of Apple Cider tonight is on me...."

Raspberry Chicken. A failed broccoli, apple and cheese omelet.... "Oh come on girls....if I'm so bad at this then you should stop asking me to cook!"

'I'm a 'Code tech...for goodness sakes, I play with decryption codes and hack systems...Nobody knows everything, that's why we do this 'family' thing.'

And it all tore through his mind's eye: The sound of scattering gunshots. A five year old trying her best to walk on an a tall green-eye man's feet. "Papa, I'm coming too...This is my fight as much as it's yours." A flash of GW and Grizzly smiling at him from rickety card table. "Mom hold on...come on Mom. Please..you can't leave me here." A burst of light and a room that was always locked - but without keys. "I'm going to have this baby." The red face of a screaming newborn infant. "Welcome to the Six Pack, glad to have you..."

"Tell him that her name is Emily, *please.*"

He came upright, gasping. Breath nearly bursting from his chest. Beneath him, the cushion's of the couch were soaked in chilly moisture. The cold sweat on his skin was nearly enough to leave him shivering. And his eyes, though he knew they were open, still couldn't quite seem to focus.

<*Breathe* Dayspring, *inhale*.> That was right: heart keep on beating. <You're all right....> Nothing more then a slightly shell-shocked Askani here. <Now what in the world...?> His eyes raked through the room, finding only his coffee mug.

Both it and the room were just like they had been thirty minutes ago...empty.

<It was some kind of Psi -flash.> Another wave on the Psi-plane? He stretched his senses out: but no - the telepathic roadway was clear. In the grayness of the expanse he could pick out numerous other Psi-Shadows that were familiar. A few reached out in greeting, but none seemed to sense anything out of the ordinary.

<So a vision - or just a dream?> Flonq- maybe he was just having a heart attack. He drew a deep breath, allowing his 'sight' to turn inward to his own mind. The answer came when he brushed a familiar chord and all but screamed from the feedback.

<Domino!?!?> Oh Bright Lady.

She was *shattered.*

********

Now it might just be his own opinion - which Emily-Partner wouldn't have hesitated to say was heavily biased - but in his eyes, these human creatures seemed, well...rather dense. Bad enough they lacked the sense to keep ahold of their property like any half intelligent canine would...but when faced with a uncertain situation, like the one before them currently, they all also became so pathetically *flighty.*

"Guthrie, I'm tellin' ye...that dog's *staring* at me." The trepidation in the redheaded female's voice made him smile a wide doggy grin from his spot in the front passenger's seat. Both she and the other friend-stranger has been watching him uneasily for the past twenty minutes. Ever since he'd let himself into the front seat of the jeep that they'd brought his mistress to - by prying open the latch with a flick of his bottom teeth.

"Theresa, Ah'm sure that he was trained ta do that. It's just another way he was taught ta look after his mistress." The long-legged blond male spoke distractedly as he spoke, and Dresden could smell his growing concern as he looked down at the woman in his lap. He was growing anxious too -worried about Partner-Cub-Emily. She was still in the deep sleep, head passed out in this stranger's arms. She was too still for normal rest - with blood on her face, and she wasn't responding to his attempts to speak to her through the link.

"Is the lass still unconcious?" The female craned her head toward the backseat momentarily. She frowned deeply when the male simply nodded in answer, and then looked back to the road . "It's been nearly twenty minute, Sam...are ye *sure* we shouldn't have brought her to the ER? I mean we can treat her wounds, yea...but what about after? How will we ever go aboot finding her family?"

"Ah don't think they'd have any more luck then us at the hospital." He'd checked her pockets while she was still on the sidewalk, but hadn't been able to find any kind of ID. "She ain't carrying a wallet or purse...Ah can't even find anything ta tell me what her name is. Ah told the police that Ah was her fiancee, and that's Ah'd see she got to a doctor."

They exchanged knowing glances as Dresden watched them with interest: to anyone else, a person with no identification would have seemed fairly bizarre. To Sam Gutherie and Therese O'Rourke though, it seemed an all too familiar equation - the mark of someone who didn't really exist.

"Do ye think she's in some kind of bad trouble?" The female finally spoke after a long moment of mutual silence. "I mean - do ye think she might be on the run?" Dresden pawed his nose for a moment, then shifted so he could see the male better. He was curious what this human's response would reveal about them.

"It'd be hard to run too far...least Ah think it'd be if you were blind like she is. Look at her dog, Terri - he's got a harness on." So maybe these humans weren't as dense as he thought. "No - Ah suspect she's just not wantin' anyone to know much about her."

Sam had carefully lifted the compress he'd been holding on her forehead - checking to see that at least the bleeding had stopped. He now sighed in genuine relief when he saw it had. "Either way - we owe her ...the way her dog saved your purse for ya. Sides, it's a sad day when we can't help somebody in need."

In reality, Sam's motives smelled far more complicated then simple good-samaritanhood. Dresden tipped his head as he studied the southerner with interest. *....Ah think she's a telepath.* He caught a fragment of the boy's last thought and sat up a little straighter. Yes, there was more to this one than he'd assumed.

<She said Ah was a mutant...> But how could she have *known* that? Sam himself had been knocked speechless for several seconds after he'd heard her speak the words in his head. It wasn't like his mutation was obvious - he wasn't even in his fighting get up. Needless to say the whole situation puzzled him and he was anxious to get the woman back to base, where they could get her patched up and under Cable's watchful eye.

"Home's right up ahead, Sam." Dresden turned his eyes back to the front of the car as they pulled into an alley, following a narrow strip of cement to what had to be the main garage. Moments later, a wide door opened - the female pulled in, parked, and *flew* from the drivers seat. "I'll get Domino and Cable and fill 'em in on what's happened. Take the Lass, and meet us down at the infirmary."

Dresden leapt from the car, himself - barking anxiously as Sam shifted his load. The blond was obviously unsure how to open the door with his burden still in-arm. Reaching up, Dresden barked again, then bit down and released the car handle. Getting a strangled look from the male as he did so.

"Good job there, boy - Ah think. I mean Ah appreciate the help." Sam shook his head as he stepped from the car, girl in tow. <Ah take back what Ah said ta Terri, this dog really does seem ta read minds...>

And his friend had been right..it really was kind of...creepy.

If dogs could have laughed, he would have done so uproariously. As it was though, Dresden merely grinned again, and followed the young man swiftly bearing his partner inside. They passed together through one set of double doors, and then into a long, brightly lit hallway: there was a door standing open on the far end and Sam went through it quickly, lying his burden on a strange looking bed that was propped against one wall.

"Let's see what we got here?" Sam was muttering to himself as he moved the Shi'ar medical scanner into place. A few taps on the controls and an initial scan report came up. "Come on girl...says here ya just got a minor concussion. Ah know ya lost some blood, but ya really should be wakin' up..." He took a clean piece of gauze out and began wiping her face clean.

Dresden wasn't watching them anymore - his attention caught by something more pressing. Emily was being cared for, and there was something about the smell of this perimeter... He wander the room, sniffing carefully - the place was awash with scents. But it was a fairly recent one that caught his attention. <The Friend-Trainer?>

No. It just *couldn't be - the odds were too much. But then again, his nose had never lied to him. "Oh mah *gosh*..." the human exhaled, and Dreden turned to catch him staring down at Emily, jaw hanging.

He tucked under his tail. Yes - human's or not - things were about to get interesting.

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