If they're not Marvel's, they're mine. No money. Don't sue.

Specifically, Kai is mine. Don't use her without permission. Ever seen 'Terminator 2'? Y'know that part where the bad guy sorta shoves his metal arm through the guy's throat? And the body's twitching a little, and there's milk spilling down all over the floor...? That'll happen to you. And milk spoils, so it'd smell all nasty in there after a day or so.

Now then. I love dedicating stories to the people who've made me feel as if these stories are worth something to them, or to people who've just made my day, or to people who willingly listen to me ramble, etc. I usually like to dedicate one story to one person. However, in light of diminished productivity on my part lately, as well as the spirit of the holiday season, I'm going to change that procedure a bit. I'm listing some of the people I'm grateful to for some reason or another, and this story is dedicated to all of them.

To Kielle, for long ago saying that she wanted to see much more of Kai. (Well Kielle, something like twenty stories later...are you regretting that yet? ;) To Luba Kmetyk, for giving my kids a home on the 'net, and for encouraging me with a few words here and there that always mean a helluva lot. To Poi Lass, for being my bud and making me laugh. To Amanda Sichter, for understanding and making me cry. To sevenall, for inspiring me and tolerating my rambles. To Indigo, for offering hugs and chocolate when they were needed most. To Shera, for Kai & Jack Anonymous. To Jaya Mitai, who shares a name, and who has a bigger heart than the little assassin'll admit. To Matt Nute, for asking how things are going. To James, whose mail always brought a smile to my face. To Laersyn, for giving me hope that there might be a chance to really do something with my scribblings. To Alara Rogers, for public praise and private encouragement. To Lee Donovan, who I always know is out there reading. To Christine Gibson, for her enthusiastic support and kindness. To Dan Heaven, who's one of few people who can say "m'dear" without it sounding condescending, and who's given me a heap of confidence. To Carlie, who was the first to ever use "Kai" and "fan" in the same sentence. To Celendra, for making me blush. To Brooke, whose empathy is her true beauty. To DuAnn Cowart, for saying she liked it. To Alicia McKenzie, for saying a cameo is enough reason to snag a story. To Dex, for leading the way in Cyke appreciation, and for managing to be flattering to every female he meets. To Daniel Martin, Alec Wire, Wolvester, sevenall, Mitai, Dyce, BJ Carlson, and Kielle, for liking Kai enough to give writing her a shot.

To my family: my brother, John Mason, for letting me see his humanity; my sister, Kendel, who's risen so far above and beyond the call of duty that I stand in awe; my father, Donald, whose been an example in gentleness, and who's reminded me in so many philosophical debates over waffles and coffee that I'm still a young'un, and I've still got a long way to go for wisdom; my mother, Carol, who gave me my red hair, my temper, and my stubbornness...who wasn't always there, and so taught me how to stand on my own two feet...who let me develop my own individuality rather than a clone of hers...who taught me so much about life and death by letting me walk with her through the former and to the latter...and who has earned my undying respect and awe with her strength and courage-- things I never knew she had until now.

Enjoy!

By Kaylee

"Westview Nursing Home, this is Ellie."

"Ellie. Hi. I, uh, met you there a while ago. I mean, I was there to see Mam--Francis. Francis Harper. And you were there, and you took a picture..."

"Um hm?"

"I... Sorry, I'm not being very clear, I guess. I'm Kai."

"Oh yes! Hi there. How are you?"

"Just fine, thanks. Um. You?"

"Great. We've got the home decorated for all the tenants, and we've had families coming nonstop."

"That must get tiring."

"Well yes...but in a good way. It's so nice to see the tenants' faces light up when their children remember them."

"... I'll bet."

"And Mama Francis' kids have been filling us to overflowing. Every one of them wants her to come home with them for the holidays. I think she finally agreed to Tammy's place, since it's right here in Orlando and big enough for lots of visitors. Not sure how soon she's leaving, though..."

"That's...great for her. Not to be...alone...over the holidays."

"Alone? Mama? You must be kidding. No one would ever leave Mama Francis alone at such an important time."

"That'd be a pretty scuzzy thing to do, huh?"

"Got that right. So...when can we expect you to drop in? Should I get her for you?"

"I'm kinda...busy. At the moment. But I'm sure I'll be able to come by. Sometime. Yeah."

"I see. I'll go get her so you can tell her yourself."

"No! I mean...don't bother her. I've gotta go anyway. I'll call back whenever I have more time to talk."

"You sure?"

"... Yeah. Thanks, Ellie."

"No problem. I'll tell her you called."

"Bye."

*Click.*

"Damn damn damn...I am such a coward!"

***

As Logan would put it, I don't have "religion." The hereafter to me is something better left for figuring out after all the figuring for here is done. Which doesn't end 'til the last breath leaves the body...at least I don't think so. Coming up on the "holiday season" that everyone was so excited about meant very little to me.

Or so I told myself. Repeatedly. Every night as those special days drew nearer.

The mansion was a vision of light and green and tinsel and those cute little stuffed animal ornaments they sell at fast food restaurants for four ninety-nine with the purchase of a large drink. Not everyone got into the spirit, but those who did went overboard. I could understand it in a sorta distant way: Given the lives we live, grabbing onto the now and celebrating it means something more than it does to your average Joe taking a couple of days off of work to drink eggnog and be woken at dawn by giggling children squirming across the bed to remind their parents that Santa came the night before, and those presents weren't gonna open themselves.

Or maybe it didn't mean more. Perhaps the only difference lay in the fact that they could count on that day of peace with family, whereas we could only cross our fingers and enjoy every second of quietude.

It was mid-morning. Logan was still zonked out in bed after a rather long night spent reminding me of a good part of the reason I stayed with him. I'd woken early; restless for some reason I didn't fully understand and needing to move around, yet not knowing just where the anxious energy was trying to push me. Attempting to cook wasn't appealing. The last time I woke Logan up with the unmistakable odor of burning eggs he made me promise to leave breakfast, at least, to him. I wasn't hungry anyway.

Somehow the idea hit me to call Francis Harper; to at the very least wish my biological mother a merry Christmas, even if she barely knew me from a stranger on the street.

Not true. She knows you. She accepted you as one of her "daughters"...and she did it without knowing what you are to her.

A kind, giving woman who'd spent her life helping others.

What would she think of her daughter?

Almost human, but not quite...

I tried to call, but...

Fine. My nerve failed. I chickened out. My stomach got all tight and knotted...my throat clenched...my lungs felt painful...

And I ran.

Maybe.

That I'm terrified, and that I need to face that fear.

I'll get around to it. When I'm ready.

Yeah. Then.

Whenever that is.

Pathetic. Fifty years ago that woman lost her daughter...lost you...and what did she do? She went on. She found other people -- kids -- who'd suffered, and she took them in. She did something with the grief. And you lost your Sensei and did what? Ran like a rabbit. And you dare to claim 'courage.'

Not really. Courage is something I'd never choose as a label.

But as for the rest...

Musings were interrupted -- thankfully -- by the sound of feet coming quietly up the slightly rickety stairs. I recognized Candy's tread easily and wondered if I'd somehow missed a "problem" that she might've needed my help on. Candy's not a morning person, seeing as she works at night. All night. Every night.

I wonder if that includes Christmas.

I opened the door before she knocked; a habit that disconcerts her every time I exercise it. She gave me a slight glare out of eyes rimmed by dark shadows set in a face too thin and hungry.

"I hate it when you do that."

"I could always close the door and let you knock."

"Forget it." She didn't ask to come in, but it was there, in her eyes. A silent 'please' conveyed by nothing more vocal than a glint of desperation shadowing plain blue irises. Candy doesn't like to ask -- few people who've fought as hard and sacrificed as much to be self-sufficient do -- and I can't stomach making her.

So I stepped aside and inclined my head at her in invitation, and she walked through wordlessly, thin shoulders set in a stiff line of tension and exhaustion.

"Can I get you something?"

She shook her head and took a seat on the worn couch, lighting a cigarette and dragging an ashtray closer to her. I dropped down across from her in a chair and brought my knees up, looping arms over them loosely. For a minute there was nothing, not even small-talk. She just watched smoke escape and followed its progress with her full attention.

When she finally spoke her voice was lower than usual and somehow grating. "I've gotta get out, Kai."

"Out?"

"Of this life." She gestured to the air, presumably meaning to point to 'this life.' "I can't go on this way anymore. I've got no self-respect...no real friends except JoJo and you and Logan...no prospects. It's not gonna get better. It's not just something to pay the bills anymore. It's all I have." Her eyes fixed on me; pale and blue and haunted. "It's not enough."

I cocked my head to the side. "You're gonna stop turning tricks?"

"Yeah. I think. I hope. I mean...god, Kai!" Oh shit...her eyes were tearing up. How was I supposed to handle this? "It was just supposed to be for a little while! I thought I could...could make it somehow. I didn't plan to get lost in this life, I really didn't. But every night I wake up, knowing I'm about to hit those damn streets 'til my feet hurt and there're no more horny men out slumming. And...I mean..." The tears welled over. I tried not to look uncomfortable. "You can't imagine what it's like...giving your body away...'til it doesn't mean shit anymore. 'Til even if you could love someone, it just wouldn't mean anything to be with him after that, and..."

I cleared my throat and worked on keeping my face blank and not averting my eyes. Seeing a person in emotional pain like this...it always makes me feel like a voyeur. Like I'm witnessing something I shouldn't.

"So if you want out...get out." It was such a simple answer. I didn't understand how she found it so difficult.

Or I didn't want to admit that I understood. Because that would mean calling up memories of KI-5, and exactly what it took to break free of that life. And that's the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, bar none.

Well...bar maybe the struggle afterwards while I tried to find myself...and maybe facing Creed in the holding cell Xavier had set up for him, seeing too much of what-might-have-been in his snarling face and furiously desperate eyes...and maybe admitting to myself that perhaps there was a little more between Logan and I than great sex and affection...and maybe--

Well, it was damn hard, regardless.

But I still wouldn't accept that a life trapped a person so that she could never escape. There are always choices, if only choices in perception. The only prison is the one you let yourself be put in.

Believing any other way is self-defeating. And I had quite enough of that as KI-5, thank you.

"I don't know how," Candy whispered. "I thought it was so simple...just decide not to do that anymore, and all was good. Y'know, I'm not the smartest woman in the world, but I think I could get an okay job waitressing somewhere. Might not pay as much, but I wouldn't have to sell myself anymore."

I heard -- and she didn't -- the whisper of cloth in the bedroom. Logan was up, then, and hearing this. He was probably wondering if he'd be intruding by walking out.

Either that, or he just didn't wanna be in this any more than I did.

"Waitressing sounds good," I temporized, willing him to join us. "Why don't you just do that, then?"

She snorted, tears still making her cheeks glisten. "I tried. No one's hiring right now. At least that's what they told me. And I don't have any transportation or references or anything, Kai. I'm just a hooker who's too old and thin to make the dough anymore. Not exactly prime material for managers to grab."

"How old are you?"

"I'll be thirty next month."

Oh yeah...you think you're old?

She was so young...yet ancient for a prostitute. The most successful hookers were all in their teens. "You're young enough to make a fresh start, Candy."

"Am I?"

"Sure you are."

She shook her head slightly. "I thought that last year...and the year before...and the year before..." Dropped her eyes and dragged on the cigarette. "No, Kai. It's a dream. A dream I have every fucking year right around Christmas, and I haven't been able to do anything with it yet."

I heard the door open and looked up to see Logan walking towards us. "We'll help," he said without preamble. "Whaddaya need?"

When she turned to look at him, I allowed myself to give him a smile -- a slightly warm one that hopefully told him 'thanks.' His eyes flicked to mine. The skin at the corners briefly crinkled in that expressive way of his that conveys so much, then he looked back to her.

She sniffed wetly. "I don't know! That's the whole problem, Logan. Every time I get up the drive to quit, I spend days thinking about how...and then nothing comes to me and I forget I ever wanted out."

"Is it the money?" he asked. "You know we'll give ya dough if you need it."

It was rather touching.

She shook her head vehemently. "No. I won't take charity. That's why I started doing this in the first place. I have to pay my own way, Logan."

I almost snorted, which woulda ruined the atmosphere and probably got me lynched. Pride. It can be so damned foolish...

Oh? And you wouldn't know anything about--

Shut up.

"Then get a job," Logan said simply.

"I've tried!" I almost flinched at the raw desperation in her tone. "There's nothing! I can't even get a damn job at Taco Bell!"

"Candy--" I started, not sure of what I was going to say but wanting to ease the pain in her voice. She cut me off by standing sharply and violently stubbing out the cigarette, tears tracking freely down her face to drip from her chin.

"I'm sorry, guys. I do this every year. Forget I said anything...I didn't mean to burden you..."

"Candy, wait--"

"No, Kai. I was wrong to hit you with this. Just...please. Forget it. Please."

I stood, but she was already at the door and not looking back. Logan was standing rock-solid. His face when I glanced at him was impassive. 'Let her make her own decision,' his silence said. 'It's her life.'

Her life. I'd heard that line from him enough to choke on it.

"Stop, Candy. Ignoring this won't do you any good."

She paused, not turning. "Nothing will," came the hoarse answer.

Then, without another word, she was through the door and closing it behind her.

I stared after her for a few heartbeats. Shouts and screams from nights past echoed in my memory...all the times Logan or I had gone down to tear an overeager man off of Candy or Jo. The blonde had always put a brave face on the hazards of her profession, covering pain -- mental and physical -- with some sort of strength that I could only wonder at. How could she still be the kind, caring woman who'd gone out of her way to welcome Logan and me to this building? How after spending her life selling her self-worth?

A mercenary's every bit as much a whore as a prostitute, some cold corner of my mind reminded me. And you've certainly been that before. Don't you dare look down on her.

I wasn't. I was just wondering how she'd stayed so human when she saw the worst of humanity night after night after night.

"No," I said aloud. "Not happening this way. She's not giving up."

"Her choice."

"Fuck that." I took a step towards the door, fully intending to go after her and talk some sense into her. Logan caught hold of my arm in one strong hand.

"Let her go."

I froze, then slowly looked down at the fingers gripping me. "Let. Go."

He did, but didn't back away. "When're you gonna realize that you can't make her decisions for her?"

"Maybe when you realize that she just needs a helping hand."

He snorted. "Yeah. Right. An' you're gonna give her the magic advice that fixes all her problems, are ya?"

I scowled. "Maybe."

"An' just what do ya plan on telling her? She wants a normal life, darlin'. What the hell do you know about that?"

"I..."

"Nothin', that's what. This ain't a team thing. This ain't somethin' you can call up your buddies at Three Eyes for."

"I know that."

"She's gotta figure this out for herself."

I shook my head, staring at the door and wondering if she was down in her room crying at the moment. "That doesn't mean I can't help."

"Then think about whatcher plannin' on doin' for her, 'stead o' just runnin' off half-cocked and not knowing what t' say."

My head shook again, but I didn't have words to put with the denial. He stepped closer and put his hand on my arm; gently this time.

"I hate seein' her like this too, Kai. Y'know I wanna help her."

"It's just..." It's just that I hate feeling so fucking helpless. I can't stand seeing her cry. She came to me for help, and I didn't do a damn thing for her. "I dunno. It hurts, y'know?"

"Yeah." He moved to stand behind me and wrapped arms over mine. Lips briefly pressed against my neck, evoking a shiver even under the circumstances. "You sound surprised."

The words bounced around in my head a moment before they settled. "I do, don't I?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. "Dunno. I'm still figuring you out."

"When you finish, lemme know. I've got a lot of questions." In the circle of his arms I turned to face him, still feeling troubled. "She's not Jo, Logan."

"Right."

"There's gotta be a way."

"Prob'ly."

"It's almost Christmas. Isn't that when everyone says amazing things're supposed to happen?"

"Supposedly." He'll only take so much of the deep stuff, Logan. That oh-so-familiar half-smile caught his lips and he leaned in to give me a peck that instantly became a deeper affair. He pulled back first, grinning fully. "Now then. If we're gonna eat, I guess that means I gotta cook. Turn on the news or somethin', darlin'. Getcher mind off things for a bit."

"Sounds like a plan." Not. I'd turn on the TV, sure. Watch the usual stations that warned of various troubles we might have to put ourselves in to solve.

But my mind was gonna be on a hooker crying in a shoddy room downstairs. Sometimes the problems of the world take second place.

***

She looked like an angel or a goddess or some sort of mythological being...something that belonged in a time and place far from the here and now. Her back was to me, white hair whipping around her shoulders -- bare shoulders?? -- like a miniature, self-contained snowstorm. Everywhere around me the air was still, but invisible, ghostly hands caressed her and tossed her hair and clothing in an anxious dance. Sunlight sparked off of snow around her. She glowed in its light; luminescent, warm earth-brown.

As always when I saw her this way, something deep, deep inside stirred -- an instinctual...almost animal awareness of this woman's connection with the earth, and of my insignificance on the planet she communed with as an old friend.

But because I am human, not animal, the feeling is always something I can barely grasp, barely feel, and it passes the moment I begin to understand it.

"'Roro," I said quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she was doing something goddess-ish. I watched distastefully as breath turned to steam and drifted away in front of me. Unseasonably warm weather had vanished into the arms of a vicious cold front. Damn winter.

She turned and nodded. "Hello, Kai."

"Isn't it a little cold to be wearing a sun dress?"

She shrugged and smiled. "My body compensates for the temperature."

"Lucky you," I muttered. You'd think she could've taken pity on those of us less fortunate and made it warm for us... "'Roro, I need some advice."

Her eyebrows went up slightly. "Is Logan...how do you put it? 'Being an ass again'?"

I frowned. "Huh?" Then shook my head irritably. "No, he's fine. No more of an ass than usual. I want to talk to you about..." I had this sudden overwhelming urge to drop my eyes and shuffle my feet nervously. I suppressed it impatiently. "Well it's sorta...there's someone I wanna help."

She nodded. "Um hm."

"A...friend, I guess. Who's trying to get a fresh start in life, and she's having a helluva time doing it. She needs support. Emotional support, I mean. Encouragement. She had a shitty childhood that's turned into a shitty adulthood, and she just doesn't know how to break out."

"I see."

Restless energy took me to pacing, since I wasn't too comfortable talking about emotions or confusion or any of those things with other people. "I can't be the one. As dear sweet Logan pointed out, I don't know thing one about an 'ordinary life.' And hell...emotional support? Not my thing at all." I shuddered faintly as I walked. "I can't stand crying. Seeing it, doing it...makes me nervy as hell." Feet shushed to a stop and I pointed firmly at her. "And I'm not an emotionless bitch, so don't go thinking that."

She smiled again, eyes twinkling. "Oh no, my friend. I would never call you emotionless." The other part, however, she didn't comment on.

I glared for a moment, trying to get a feel for whether she was teasing me or not. Deciding 'probably,' I shrugged it off and continued pacing. "She needs someone who can listen to her and suggest things and just...just make her feel like she's worth something. But who the hell do I know who can make someone as lost and alone as Candy is feel special? It'd have to be someone who really cares about people, and who really can accept the hurt ones..."

'Roro hadn't budged as I spoke, standing there while her miniature whirlwind made her hair do fascinating things. Now she nodded once and said, "It sounds as if the woman could use the support of a family."

I faltered to a halt again. "What did you say?"

"It sounds as if--"

"A family."

"Yes."

For a moment, staring blindly at the ground, I forgot about hating cold and snow and things of that ilk. It was so simple...so elegant...

And yet...could I do this?

She met my eyes when I looked up. Her gaze was as level and serene as it usually is -- except when she's pissed, and then it turns to the kinda tumultuous maelstrom wise people run from. "You're brilliant," I told her sincerely, shoving down my doubts to nestle below the excitement. Then laughed. "Fucking brilliant!"

Before she could answer I'd turned and jumped into a sprint towards the mansion, feeling for the first time that there was something I could do...something even Logan couldn't argue with.

Then again, he probably could...but I wouldn't listen.

***

A dozen phone calls later and a good deal poorer, I threw clothes in my duffel bag without much concern for folding or matching up except to make sure I had more than one shirt and more than a single pair of pants. I'd rushed back to the apartment as fast as I could feasibly drive without having to engage in a meeting with the boys in blue. Good thing I'd hurried. The flight I wanted left in two hours, and I still had to break the news to Candy.

Please let her agree, I thought in silent plea to whatever watches over people like me.

Before I reached the door, it opened. I lunged back in surprise -- hadn't even heard feet on the stairs, which really meant it could only be one person -- and caught the yelp in my throat, turning it to-- "Logan!"

He looked a bit windblown, which meant he'd likely floored the bike after me while trying to figure out why I took off in such a hurry. "What's goin' on?" His eyes took in the duffel over my shoulder. "Somethin' ya wanna tell me?"

"I don't have time to explain. Gotta get Candy and get going." I moved to push past him. All in all, I'm used to people getting outta the way when I do that. Logan, however, breaks my rules all the time. I think it's a game with him.

"Make time," he suggested, not budging.

I muttered a few uncomplimentary things under my breath, but forced myself to explain. Quickly. In short words of few syllables that couldn't possibly be misunderstood, even by Logan when he's in the 'Kai's being an idiot' mood. It was momentarily satisfying to see his eyes widen in surprise, then hesitant approval.

"Y'know...it just might work..."

"I hope so. At the very least she'll get a vacation out of it. Now get outta my way."

"Are you sure you can handle this?"

The question almost gave me pause, since I'd been asking myself that the entire ride home from the mansion. But damnit, Candy needed this. It was the fucking holiday season. I could afford to be unselfish for a couple of days out of the year.

"I can handle it," I answered, almost cursing when it didn't come out as steady as I'd planned. "Get outta the way."

He did, but turned immediately to follow me out. I stopped sharply at the top of the narrow staircase. "What're you doing?"

"Comin' along."

"I don't have you a ticket."

"I'll call on the way."

"I only got tickets 'cause they had some cancellations, and I had to pull some major strings just to get those. There probably aren't any more."

"Then I'll convince someone t' sell me his ticket."

"You didn't pack."

"You're wastin' time, darlin'."

I wavered between being furious at his presumption and relieved that he wanted to come -- because I was, quite frankly, nervous as hell about this one. "You really wanna come? You're not just saying that 'cause it's almost Christmas or anything?"

He stepped aside and gestured towards the door. "Bah humbug. Now let's get goin' 'fore Candy heads out for the night."

***

We almost missed her. She was out the door and a good way down the street when we caught up, and more; she was in the middle of climbing in a Buick with a john. No one I -- or from the glance at Logan, he -- recognized, either. Which meant we weren't gonna waste the time being courteous.

Logan yanked the door open before Candy even realized he was there. She cut off her half-scream as soon as she recognized him. Give her this; she trusts Logan and me both to a fault. Worries me, sometimes. Worries me a lot. It's too...unconditional. I believe in conditions, particularly when handing out faith.

Though it comes in handy, given some of the things she's seen; like the time the john had a gun, and Logan went in too fast...or the time a guy made it to a kitchen knife just before I laid hands on him...

She's never asked, but she knows there's something different here.

"C'mon," he said simply. "We got a plane to catch."

I circled around to the driver's door to make certain the man didn't drive off with her in the car. Guy's attention was on Logan, so he didn't see me 'til I opened it. His eyes were wide when he jerked his head around to face me. I almost felt a little sorry for him. Almost.

"Listen to him, Candy," I added. "You don't have to do this."

The john -- I guess he thought being faced with a five foot nothing woman wasn't as much of a threat as an equally short but considerably more menacing-looking man -- moved as if to shove me back, presumably to slam his door and floor it outta there. It was plenty of excuse, so far as I was concerned. I grabbed him by the collar and hauled him out bodily, more than a little pleased at his blurted shout of surprise. He struggled a bit as I shoved him up against the car. Not too much, though. By that time I had fingers wrapped around his throat.

"Find a porn movie," I suggested amiably. "Forget her."

His breath rattled a bit around my hand. Out of my peripheral vision I saw Candy -- standing now -- watching with an unreadable expression.

"I'm...a...cop..." he gasped out, hand fumbling for a pocket inside his jacket. "My badge..."

Candy's breath caught audibly. Logan said something ugly. I batted the guy's hand away and reached into his jacket myself.

"Nice badge." And it was. A very nice badge. Oh yes. And doubtless this fellow was a very nice Vice cop. I hoped.

I let him go, of course, and handed the badge back to him. He sucked in a few breaths unsteadily -- I think he was exaggerating in order to make me nervous or something -- and tucked it back into place, eyeing me balefully.

"Hartley. Vice department."

I nodded. "Kate Smith. Sorry for the misunderstanding."

He straightened and jerked his clothes into order. Hazel eyes, black hair, chocolate skin, sculpted face... A little too good looking to be trolling this area for hookers. Candy shoulda known better.

"You have some ID, Ms. Smith?" A wary glance at Logan. "And you?"

Logan said nothing. I wondered if he'd remembered to pocket his 'Jim Logan' driver's license.

I handed him mine -- thankful once more that a Three Eyes alias is about the hardest thing to crack this side of titanium -- and waited a half-minute while he perused the information and compared my face to the photo. He handed it back, sending another glance Logan's way. I waited for him to press for information. That might get ugly if Logan wasn't in the mood to cooperate.

Instead Hartley looked back to me again. "You people typically make it your business to interfere with a hooker's living?"

"Who says she's a hooker?"

Hazel eyes narrowed coldly. "She was about to close the deal."

Logan -- standing over across the other side of the car beside Candy -- put just a bit of warning in his voice. "Don't think so, bub. Looks like ya made a mistake."

Hartley looked back and forth between us, something sparking in his eyes...something almost like recognition. "Know something? We've been hearing rumors about the action in this sector. Rumors about somebody pounding on the street scum and watching out for the working girls. You all know anything about that?"

Logan answered. "Nope."

Guy looked at me. "You?"

"What he said."

He looked suspicious -- rightly so, of course. A hand went to rub at the marks my fingers had left on his neck. "You're pretty strong. Got a good grip for a little woman like you."

I raised an eyebrow, then pulled back a sleeve and flexed an arm. Taut muscle rolled neatly. "I work out."

"I've been grabbed by big muscle-guys weaker than you."

"I work out a lot."

"Hm." Again he looked back and forth between us, hardly even glancing at Candy; which was just as well since she looked ready to bolt. Almost caught by a cop two days shy of Christmas. What a way to spend the holidays.

Course, we weren't outta the woods yet.

Logan spoke up suddenly, frowning a little. "Hartley, ya said?"

"That's right."

"Jeff Hartley?"

The cop's head cocked sideways in consideration. "Yeah..." he confirmed warily. "What of it?"

"You worked Homicide with Charlotte Jones for a while."

Hartley blinked, expression changing to something less hostile, yet still cautious. "You know Charlotte?"

"She's a friend." Having established a connection, Logan gave an almost friendly nod. "Jeff, what say you go on about your business, huh? Candy here ain't hurtin' nothin'. We got a plane t' get her on, and it'd be real disappointing to my gal there if we missed it."

Hartley slanted another glance at me. I tried very hard to look as if I'd be just crushed if we missed this flight. I wouldn't, of course. I'd be pissed. But then a crushed expression is very like a pissed expression-- you just have to widen the eyes a bit more and unclench the jaw-- so I thought I managed it fairly well.

He finally fixed his gaze directly on poor Candy, who looked very much as if she wanted to sink into the pavement. "You have anything to say?"

She shook her head vehemently, backing a step behind Logan, who managed in that way of his to project an aura of threatening protectiveness without even taking his hands out of his jacket pockets.

Hartley nodded as if to himself. "Y'know, we got a guy in a while back…fellow someone worked over real good. He was drunk as hell and saying something about a hooker he'd tried to pull some S&M crap on. Said she got scared and screamed, and next thing he knows there's this man and woman in there beating the shit out of him. Came from this neighborhood, if I remember right."

Logan didn't even blink under his assessing gaze. "That so?"

Hartley tried the look on me. I was still practicing the crushed expression, though, and wasn't about to let it slip now.

The cop nodded again, more firmly. "Bunch of the boys decided the people who'd pulled that one off deserved a medal. You see 'em around here...tell 'em they've got some friends in the PD. Just as long as they remember to keep their attention on the scum and not the badges. Got me?"

"I hear ya," Logan said mildly. "Watch your back out there, Jeff."

Without another word to us -- but with a lingering look -- he climbed back into his car. Logan rather politely shut the door he'd opened for Candy. The engine rumbled to life, spitting dark smoke out into the freezing air behind the Buick.

Then Hartley won himself some points from me by rolling down his window and telling Candy, "Merry Christmas, ma'am," before driving the heavy car off slowly into the night.

"How did you do that?" Candy asked in a small voice. "He...he listened to you."

"Ever heard o' the 'Blue Curtain,' darlin'?" When she shook her head he continued, putting a hand on her too-scantily-clad shoulder to turn her back towards the apartments. "Just means that cops have two codes; one for badges and one for the rest of us. You just gotta convince 'em to give you the badges code."

"That man he was talking about...the one who got beat up..."

"You were out that night," I supplied. "Jo brought home a rough one."

"Oh god..." She kept walking -- Logan's hand still resting on her shoulder lightly -- but dropped her eyes to the ground. "She could've been killed..."

"So could you," I pointed out quietly. "Any time, any night. Logan and I can't be here twenty-four/seven, Candy. This life puts you at risk all the time. And not just from moody customers, either." I wasn't about to take the time to emphasize all the diseases raging around the world and in assorted horny men. She knows all about that. "I have a plane ticket for you. I wanna take you outta here...somewhere where you can get a fresh start. You can do better, Candy."

She shook her head, still looking down. "I can't...I won't know anyone..."

"We're gonna take care of that."

"JoJo..."

I hesitated, unsure of how to answer that. Logan picked up the slack. "We're gonna watch out for Jo like we been doin'. You don't gotta worry 'bout her."

We'd reached the building by then. She stopped in front and looked up, eyes taking in the faded shutters, the crumbling brick, the air of hopelessness that it held for her and people like her. She'd been here for years. Had probably started thinking she'd never leave. It wasn't comfortable and it wasn't safe, but there was something reassuring about being able to count on the wood to keep fading and the bricks to keep crumbling. When change was a predictable downward spiral, it somehow offered the illusion of security. That was a very, very hard thing to abandon once a person was entrenched in it.

"How long do I have to pack?"

She hadn't even asked where we were going. My heartbeat picked up a few racing notches. "About ten minutes if we're gonna make the flight. Just take what you can't live without. We can ship the rest to you."

She nodded. Didn't look at me. "Are you sure about this, Kai?"

There was a silent plea in those words, and for that alone I would've answered yes, lie or not. Fortunately for the both of us, I really was pretty damn sure. For her at least. "Yeah, Candy. I've got a good feeling."

She looked at me. Looked at Logan. Looked back to the building that'd been her home and her office and her prison for years.

"Okay then."

***

Logan was able to 'charm' a man out of his ticket by spending pretty much all the money in his checking account. He shrugged at my raised eyebrow and brusquely shouldered Candy's bag along with the small duffel he'd packed during that hurried ten minutes, ignoring the silent question of just why he was willing to spend so much for a trip on which he was little more than an accessory.

But considering where we were going and what I'd be facing, I was strangely glad of his presence. Didn't tell him that...but I was.

Candy'd never been on a plane before. Seeing the way she glued her face to the window at the moment of takeoff, I started feeling something warm and tingly settle down in my chest. She looked so excited...as if the years were slowly peeling back and retracing their steps to a place where her road had branched, and a chance to take the other path opened up before her.

Logan was a few rows back, snoozing. An hour into the flight, when most of the passengers had pulled out laptops or books or pillows, I twisted in my seat and looked back at him. His worn cowboy hat was drawn over his eyes and shadowing his face. I didn't need to see it anymore to know every line.

He was coming along to support me. There wasn't any other reason I could think of. He knew where we were going, and he knew how rough this might be for me. Well...he knew most of it, anyway. And he'd spent a small fortune...canceled anything else in his plans...left off Christmas preparations at the mansion...all that, just to be there if I needed him, and all with his typical no-fuss attitude.

I heard Candy's soft gasp as she saw something else out beyond the thick window. She was utterly enraptured by the city lights moving and fading below us. I rested a cheek against the seat as I stared back and smiled faintly -- at her, at myself, at Logan. He raised a hand and tipped the edge of the hat up, meeting my eyes with his as if he'd known I was looking at him. Knowing him, he probably had.

His smile didn't touch his lips, but gathered in the skin around his eyes. He touched a finger to his hat brim as if in salute. I bit down on my lower lip to keep from laughing. The recycled, claustrophobic air of the plane held too many thick scents for me to tell anything specific from his, but if looks were to be believed he didn't appear irritated or annoyed or any of the things I woulda been if it'd been his crazy idea sending us flying southward the night before Christmas Eve.

"Kai, look at this," Candy whispered in an awed voice. Before I turned to see, Logan half-smiled and winked at me, then firmly tugged his hat brim down again.

I brought my head around and moved to look out with her, understanding better than she knew the excitement she felt at the sparkling lights below. Didn't glance back again, but I was suddenly sure that if I did I'd find that hat once more pushed back and the dark eyes watching me.

Felt oddly good to have that to count on.

***

Hours on the plane, then the bother of renting a car, then driving somewhere near the destination we'd reach in the morning, then renting a couple of motel rooms...

All in all, it was a very long night. Everything looks brighter in the morning though, they say, and on waking to the Florida sunshine come dawn I had to agree with them. It was still cold, of course, but Florida's version of 'cold' is considerably more tolerable than Manhattan's. I was even able to loan Candy one of the sweaters I'd had layered on the night before, since none of her wardrobe was really suited for frigid weather. In Manhattan she'd just coped with the chill. Here she hesitantly accepted the clothing that would make her more comfortable.

We set out early to beat the traffic. I was driving, Candy was in the passenger seat, and Logan fake-snoozed in the back. He'd been doing that a lot. I thought it went with his image of complete nonchalance on this trip. We didn't talk much: Candy was nervous as hell, and I wasn't really all that much better. She was facing a new life.

I was facing an old one.

More than one, I reminded myself. One I knew and one I didn't.

But even without conversation the trip went fast, and before either Candy or I had a chance to chicken out we were pulling up into the driveway of the conservative-but-sizable brick home that had a dozen other cars scattered with cheerful randomness over the wide drive.

"There sure are a lot of people here," she murmured.

"Popular lady," Logan supplied from the back seat, interrupting his snoring. I hate how he can do that.

"Are you really sure...?"

I answered as honestly as I could. "I'm sure you'll be just fine."

Dunno about me, but you'll be fine...

We walked to the door. The only reason I didn't hang back was because Candy already was, and Logan wasn't about to lead the way. No...he'd say this'd help me build fortitude. He'd say I needed to be the first one. He'd say...

He'd tell me that I'm not a coward, and I'd be forced to make it true.

Heart pounding, I knocked. The answer came swiftly. The roundish little woman who opened the door beamed at us as though we were her new best friends. Something told me she greeted Jehovah's Witnesses the same way.

"And which one are you?" she asked me without preamble.

I cleared my throat. "Kai."

"Oh!" Her smile -- which didn't look as if it could expand any more without cracking her face -- spread wider. "Come on in! I'm Tammy. It's so nice to meet you! We told her you'd called. She's looking forward to seeing you."

"Okay," I managed. Candy crowded in beside me, looking very much like a child surrounded by intimidating strangers. I took a breath. Worked on making my feet move forward to follow the smiling woman into the house.

A warm hand suddenly pressed gently at the small of my back, supportive and calming. He didn't say anything; just stood there with me, understanding what Candy didn't know. I pulled in another breath; more slowly this time.

I followed her in. Most of the visitors in the house were still asleep. I could hear snores and deep breathings behind the closed doors off to the right. The odors of a hearty breakfast drifted out from the kitchen somewhere ahead of us, along with the friendly domestic sounds of pots clanging and voices and laughter from several chests.

She led us into a spacious living room. Women and men paused in what they were doing to look our way. I gathered every nerve I had in me and walked forward, missing the feel of Logan's hand on my back as he stayed behind.

"Kai," said Francis Harper in a warm, welcoming voice. "I'm so glad you came."

I swallowed hard and found a smile. "It's good to see you again," I told her, walking over to where she was nestled in numerous blankets on the couch. "I'm sorry I didn't contact you earlier..." Oh my-- I could see me in her face. I could see me...

She waved it off, brown eyes twinkling. "You're here now, sweetie." A look past me. "And hello, Logan."

"Ma'am," he said with a smile and a nod.

"And who's this?" she asked with an inquiring look at Candy.

Candy came to stand beside me, looking nervous and uncomfortable. "I'm...Candy. And you're...Ms. Harper, Kai said?"

The old woman laughed. So did most of the people in the room. I even found myself grinning a bit.

"Francis, Mama Francis, or Mama," she corrected gently. "Whichever you're most comfortable with." She was still smiling, but I glimpsed a sharp alertness in those gentle eyes. Breath halted in my chest with a hopeful pause. Did she see...?

"Come here, dear," Mama Francis said, holding out a hand to Candy. "Why don't you sit down and tell me a little about yourself?"

The room was full of Mama's children -- the people she'd seen this need in and taken as her own. Daughters...granddaughters...hell, she might even have great-grandchildren by now, for all I knew. But these people had all once needed someone to give them a little guidance, or maybe a home, or maybe just a comforting hug. And she'd given it unselfishly, offering herself as a mother for fifty years.

I could see it in their faces; all of them. When Candy reached out and took the thin hand, small smiles graced almost every set of lips. They recognized one of their own.

As Mama Francis once told me, there are a lot of motherless daughters in the world.

And when Candy sat down beside her -- smiling tremulously and radiating nerves -- I saw the look on Mama's face and knew what everyone else in the room except for Candy had probably already figured out.

Candy didn't have to be one anymore.

***

"You look happy, darlin'."

"I am."

"'Cause Candy decided to stay?"

"That's part of it."

"'Cause Tammy's takin' her on as a housekeeper?"

"That too."

"What else?"

I smiled blindly at the road. "I got to wish my mother a Merry Christmas."

He went silent for a moment; in understanding, I thought.

Then, softly-- "You didn't tell her."

"Nope."

"Thought ya wanted to."

I raised an eyebrow and glanced sidelong at him, eloquent in silence. He grinned.

"Thought ya'd worked up the guts to."

I watched the darkened highway slide by, musing. "I'm...getting there."

He grunted. Didn't sound too skeptical, though, so I didn't bother taking offense. "Where we goin'?"

"We're almost there."

"Almost where?"

The eyebrow arched higher. "You said you're along for the ride. Changing your mind?"

"'Course not. Just wonderin' how you seem to know you're way around here so well."

Didn't answer him right away, being busy watching for my turnoff. He waited with remarkable patience. Lit a cigarette after a minute, and when I stole that from between his lips he didn't even complain before hauling out another.

The turnoff came. My expression was still mild enough, but my heart was kicking it into overdrive. I knew he sensed it; an inquiring glance from the dark eyes told me so. But he said nothing, perhaps realizing that all questions were about to be answered.

I drove past the gate, parking around the far side under the shadows of some almost-bare oaks. He'd straightened when he saw what this place was, and now he looked at me more intently.

I sat back in the seat and dragged off the cigarette. Blew smoke out and watched it escape through the cracked window. Gathered nerve and voice with an effort.

"I used to live here."

"Used t' live lotsa places, I thought."

A nod. "Yeah. But here was different. This is where...I mean, not far from here is where I trained."

Dark eyes shifted to the concrete wall separating us from my destination. "The dojo you talk about."

"Yeah."

He got out of the car. More slowly, I did the same, tossing the cigarette absently.

"So this is where they laid 'im."

My heart beat a little faster. "This is." My voice managed to stay level...somehow... "It's been four years now. This wall wasn't here then. I stood under these trees -- it was fall, but the leaves hadn't started turning yet...it was too warm -- and I watched the funeral from here. All of the other students and his friends were right there by the gravesite, but I couldn't...couldn't..."

His eyes were on me again. "You ready for this?"

It was a challenge; words that intentionally evoked the memory of what he'd told me just weeks before-- "You're not a coward."

I am. But even a coward can face the fear when she has to.

With determined strides I started for the wall. Ten feet away I started running, and a stride out I sprang up. Hands caught the top easily and I pulled myself up.

I swung a leg over and looked back at him. "You didn't come down here for this. I won't ask you to come with me."

He jogged forward and jumped up smoothly. "Just so long as you don't ask me not to."

It brought a smile, but I didn't let myself pause to share it. My leg hiked over and I dropped into a crouch. Another thud sounded beside me as he landed.

"Know where it is?"

"I'll never forget."

We wound through the tombstones, respectful of those resting beneath. I almost stopped noticing he was there entirely, caught up as I was in the storm of emotions inside.

Wrong. I wasn't sure just what it meant yet, but it did mean something.

And then we were there, and Logan was stepping up beside me to read what little was marked on the stone. A name. Two dates. The inscription, "Gone, but never forgotten." It was as simple and to the point as he would've wanted it to be. John must've been the one to come up with it. Senior black belt -- his prize student until I came along, and even after that one of the best. As much a son to the man as I was a daughter.

I wanted to say something. I didn't know what.

Yesterday and tomorrow. The only things I feared. And tomorrow was still a damn unsettling thing-- all that could happen...all I could lose...

And yesterday still hadn't stopped hurting. Probably never would.

But this was today. And today was all that mattered.

"I loved you," I told him. "I still do."

And then I waited. For what? Oh, for the world to explode...the sky to fall...the stars to plummet to the earth... Little things like that. That's the sorta stuff I half-expected to happen when those words came outta my mouth.

But they didn't happen. Wind whispered through the bare-branched oaks and fully-clothed pines. A bird or two that'd fled south for the winter sang to the night.

I blinked at the stone, wanting some reaction I couldn't get.

I said it.

Still nothing. The chill was starting to seep beneath the sweater.

Why don't I feel anything??

"Logan."

"Yeah?"

"What's supposed to-- Why don't I--" I cleared my throat. "I don't feel anything."

Grass whispered his approach. "Give yourself some time," he said gruffly. "It'll come."

"What if it doesn't?" That'd be even worse...finding out I didn't even care about him enough to cry over his grave...

Hands found my shoulders and rubbed at the tension. "Just tell him whatcha came t' tell him."

"I did."

"'S that all ya wanted to say?"

No. No. Damnit, there was so much more... I wanted to tell him I missed him. I wanted to tell him that I hadn't forgotten him. That he might just be proud of me, now that I was actively out there fighting for a dream he would've understood. I wanted to scream at how stupid he'd been...getting in a fucking car with that much alcohol on board. I wanted to tell him I'd never forgive him for dying before I let him know how much he meant to me. I wanted to beg him to forgive me for waiting too long...too late.

And I had to tell him that I'd be okay. He was always worried about me. Worried at first that I'd be too unstable to make it on my own...then worried that I'd lock emotions away and always stay apart from the world...

That much, at least, I thought I could put into words.

"Sensei, you don't have to worry about me." I put a hand over one of Logan's...felt his fingers lace with mine. He squeezed my hand gently. You're not a coward.

Maybe I'm not.

"I'm not alone anymore."

Notes from Kaylee: This story goes out to everyone who's touched my life in some way or another, but most of all it's for my mother. Personal note follows...leave now if you can't take it.

My family thought that this would be the worst Christmas ever. About five months ago my mother was diagnosed with cancer-- the kind you don't get better from. My sister flew back home from Germany...I came from school in Florida. We were here to support Mom and Dad while she underwent treatments that the doctors hoped would give her more time, since a cure was out of the question.

It did give her more time. A "two months if she's lucky" prognosis stretched out considerably longer. When she finally reached the point where the treatment was worse than the disease, we brought her home from the hospital and started hospice care, during which my sister and I took over from the nurses and did everything we could to make her comfortable. She had ups, she had downs, and she had nights during which we stayed up past dawn because we thought she'd stop breathing before sunrise.

Two weeks ago the doctors told us that she wouldn't make it 'til Christmas. That'd been her goal, y'see, because she didn't want us grieving instead of celebrating over the holiday season. On the advice of the nurses we celebrated an early Christmas-- had a slide show, a dinner, family flying in from across the country. We were determined that since she wouldn't be here on the holiday itself, our faux Christmas would be so damned cheerful she'd be convinced it was the real thing.

That wasn't good enough for her.

On twelve o' clock AM this morning-- Christmas morning-- I went to her bedside and said the holiday greeting, and for the very first time in my life my entire heart went into it. "Merry Christmas, Mom."

It doesn't matter what happens later today, tomorrow, the next day or the next. For all our planning for tomorrow, we only live in the now. And even someone as stubborn and thickheaded as I am can come to realize the importance of this moment.

This is the best Christmas ever; all because one fire-haired lady is just too damned pig-headed to understand the words, "Give up."

I'm telling you all this for any number of reasons, but the main one is this: You can never know what tomorrow will bring, so take the now, this moment, and let the people in your life know that you care. Hug a family member, call a friend, or just give Fido an extra-large-beef-flavored-rawhide bone. Unload the baggage-- you can do it for one day, believe me-- and tell them.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and all my best wishes to each and every one of you.

Jaya