xp_logs | Last Sunday...

"Remarkable," Hank said under his breath as he examined Angelo. "Absolutely remarkable." He glanced over at the teenaged witch who stood obediantly - although not quite patiently - on the other side of the isolation ward's glass, and nodded. "You may come in, Miss Sefton. Your arts have sufficiently increased Angelo's own healing rates to a level where quarantine is no longer required."

"Doc, has anyone ever told you yer know too many long words?" Amanda said as she came in, carrying her equipment. Her words were cocky, but she was unmistakably tired - her face was paler than normal under the makeup and her posture had slumped.
"Frequently, but why waste all that education?" Hank eyed her critically. "Are you sure you're able to continue? Perhaps we should break for the day, to allow you to recuperate your energies?"

"I wouldn't mind, chica," Angelo chimed in. "You've done a lot already, and I'd understand if you needed to rest."

Amanda shook her head. "I'm fine. 'Sides, what am I gunna do with the rest of the day? Watch that nancy-boy shite you Americans call football?" She set her stuff - oil burner, bag of magical supplies, book - on the bedside table and pulled a chair over. "I'll have a break for a bit, an' then we can see how much more we get done, okay?"

Angelo eyed her dubiously, but he wasn't about to turn down the offer of more healing, since she said she was up to it. "Sounds good to me", he told her with a smile.

Once Amanda had sat down, Hank slipped quietly out of the room to attend to his own work, while still keeping an eye on the two in the isolation area, through the glass.

Once Hank had gone, Angelo pulled himself up a little higher in the bed and looked Amanda in the eye. "This isn't some kind of macho witch thing, is it? Proving you're better than medical science? Because I won't take it badly if you want to stop."

With just a touch of annoyance, Amanda snapped back: "I wouldn't say I could if I couldn't. You lot seem t' think I'm a lot more self-sacrificin' than I am. Get over it." Then she caught her tone and shrugged. "I'm tired, is all. Things have been pretty insane this week. THen again, you know what I mean." She nodded at the healing burns visible on his arms and the parts of his chest left bare by the hospital gown.

Angelo frowned. "Yeah, I do. Thought this place was safer than that. My mistake, obviously."

"You an' me both, mate." Amanda ran her hand through her hair. "Should have known there'd be a catch - this whole set-up was too good t' be true. Only I wasn't expecting military raids and whatnot."

"Don't think anyone was", Angelo told her sombrely. "Seemed to take the faculty by surprise, at least."

"An' they weren't th' only ones." Amanda winced at the memory of her injuries, although the cast on her right wrist was the only physical reminder. "Still, they won't catch me like that again."

Angelo nodded, jaw set in determination. "Me either. Or any of the others, if I can help it. Time I started sharing what I can do, with those that want it."

"An' what's that?" Amanda asked, immediately curious. Whilst she'd agreed to play by Pete's requirements of waiting until she was eighteen before asking him about training again, she fully intended to pursue it on her own. And anything she could add to her skills was a bonus, especially in the face of her near-fatal defeat.

Angelo eyed her for a moment, then decided it couldn't hurt to tell her. And he had just all but promised to share his skills... He started listing them off on his fingers. "Street fighting. Knifework. Some hand to hand, but you'd be better going to Logan for that. And I can shoot."

"Shoot? As in guns?" When Angelo nodded, she went quiet for a long moment, her face unreadable. Just as he was starting to worry he'd upset or frightened her in some way, she spoke: "You got yerself yer first student."

"They might not let me", he warned her. "Can't see all the faculty bein' crazy about the idea. An' it'd be hard to pull off on the quiet..."

"Then we find a way to do it. I'm not jokin', Angelo, I want t' learn how t' do this, so the next time I run across some armoured bastard, I can do more'n flash pretty lights in his face and try t' stab him with sporks."

"You find a way, and I'll teach you", Angelo promised. "I think there's a range in town..."

Amanda nodded, looking down at her hands which were twisting the hem of her t-shirt around in her lap. "I... I nearly got killed," she admitted at last. "An' I don't mean that in a melodramatic kind of way. The fucker had th' gun to me head an' was goin' to pull the trigger. Would have, if Remy hadn't happened along. An' th' thought of someone bein' able t' be able t' do that t' me..." She broke off abruptly, taking a deep breath. "Let's just say it's not a good feeling."

Angelo looked at her sympathetically. "Been there", he said simply. "So I know exactly how it feels."

She looked at him carefully, testing the truth of his words. A lot of people were quick to say they knew what such-and-such a sitution was like - she'd heard it from more social workers than she'd care to admit - but Angelo seemed genuine.

Angelo noted the careful look, and turned his hands palm-up to show her. "See these? Not from this last fire." He hesitated, then continued bitterly. "I begged those bastards for my life, my friends, and they beat me half to death anyway and left me to burn. And that part took effort."

Silently, Amanda reached out and touched the old burn scarring, seeing it through senses altered by her healing magic. "I could..." she began, and then shook her head. "No, I couldn't. 'S too old. Too deep."

Angelo shrugged. "Don't think I'd want you to if you could. They remind me."

A wry grin twisted her lips. "An' I can tell yer I know how that feels." She shrugged. "Something's yer meant to carry, I s'pose."

"Yeah", he agreed. "Keeps me remembering why I wouldn't go back, even if I could."

"Fuck, yeah." She laughed, appreciating the irony. "The only time I ever want to see Rack again is in small, messy pieces."

Angelo hesitated, then asked carefully, "Rack?"

"Arsehole bastard cunt of a foster father," Amanda said with some venom. "Somethin' of an adept in th' Black Arts who used me as his personal mystical battery. Remember when I was explaining me power to you, mentioned having the energy sucked out of me? That was Rack."

Angelo nodded, face blank. "I see. Can see why you'd want him dead, too."

"That's not even the half of it." Amanda shivered slightly and changed the subject. "So, is there anythin' else you want t' keep? Wouldn't want t' heal the wrong thing," she said with another wry smile.

Angelo grinned wryly. "Here, easier if I show you. There's quite a few things", he told her, standing up to push his gown back off his shoulders and holding it at his waist, revealing his much-scarred chest and back.

Amanda was silent, taking in the myriad old scars underneath the new burn tissue. "Which is which?" she asked at last.

Angelo looked round at her, then indicated each scar as he spoke. "This one's the initiation mark. This one's where I got pointlessly shot. The rest were mostly from fights. Some are from the day I manifested."

She stood and moved behind him, touching the initiation mark gently. "Someone did this t' you?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. "Yeah, and I let them. Without painkillers. I was fourteen. God, the things we go through for respect..."

"Least you had the choice," Amanda said bitterly.

Angelo glanced at her. "Yeah, I did. So, there's somethin' you didn't get to choose?"

She looked at him steadily, as if deciding whether the risk was worth it. He wouldn't be disgusted, that she was sure of, but she didn't want him to see her as a victim, not entirely. Making up her mind, she nodded, slowly. "No-one knows about this," she said, "'Cept a couple of people."

Angelo just waited, letting her take her time with whatever she had to tell or show him. "I won't say a word."

"I just hope Paige don't walk in right now - could be hard to explain," Amanda said, and, turning her back, pulled her t-shirt over her head. Her bra eclipsed some of the ritual scarring, but the rest was harsh and ugly in the medlab's florescent lighting.

Angelo hissed involuntarily at the sight of her scars, his hands clenching. "Who did that?" he asked, voice low and dangerous.

"Rack. I was eleven. There was... a ritual, some kind of summoning. I don't really remember. Being sliced up with a bone knife tends t' do that do yer." Amanda turned and dropped the shirt she was clutching to her chest so that Angelo could see the rest. "There's others on my legs, but I'm not giving yer the full monty here."

"Eleven", Angelo said flatly. "Well, I'll tell you now, if you ever find him, I'll gladly help out. Man who'd do that to a little girl doesn't deserve to live."

"Finally someone who sees it my way," she said, pulling her shirt back on - it was cold down in the medlab. "I'm not looking for pity," she warned. "Just thought... you'd understand. An' I'm sick of hidin' because people can't cope with it."

"No pity here", he assured her. "God knows I don't show many people my scars - I think not more than five people have seen them, all by accident. And one of them was Paige."

"How'd she deal? Seems like somethin' Little Miss Sunshine wouldn't have experience in." Amanda said the nickname without malice, more amusement.

"Not too bad, actually, or not when she'd some time to get used to it", Angelo replied. "She even asked for one of the stories."

"Well, I don't think I'll be changin' me habits any time soon - I get dressed in the bathroom, with the door locked," she explained, at Angelo's quizzical look. "I doubt the stories behind this are somethin' anyone wants t' hear."

Angelo nodded, understanding. "Don't think many people here'd want to hear my stories, either", he told her, before warning, "Watch out for Kitty, though. Locked door won't necessarily stop her if she wants to get into a room. Though I'm sure she'd knock first, since it'd be the bathroom an' all."

"I'll remember that. An'... if yer feel up t' tellin' me, I'd like t' hear it. Your stories, that is." She smiled, actually smiled. "It'll give us something t' do whilst I work on yer."

Angelo smiled back. "Think I will, at that. Any particular one you wanna hear first? They mostly come with the scars, so just pick one."

Amanda pointed at the initiation scar. "That one, I think. But first you get yer arse back into this bed so I can do this without you falling over an' the doc blackbanning me."

Angelo grumbled jokingly, but obeyed, pulling the gown back over his shoulders. "That one? Okay, then. I was fourteen, been runnin' errands for the gang for years, and they'd finally decided I was old enough to join officially..."

fade to black for more off-screen bonding