Grace watched as anger warred with confusion on Drew's face. Her brows drew down before she barked out, "Oh, so that makes it all okay?"

Silence beckoned, but Grace knew the end result of that path. "No. It does not. But it means there are others who have been where you are. There are others who have felt what you are feeling now, as much as any human being can feel what another feels."

"How would you know?"

There were moments to speak, and moments to use silence as the tool of communication. Grace stared at Drew as the taller woman's anger grew, moment by moment. She saw the exact moment comprehension took hold, and the anger twisted in on itself to become shame. She slumped back to lean against her desk.

"When?"

"I was still a girl. Even then, my musical talent was obvious. I spent more time in the company of my instructors than my parents." Buried pain surfaced, but Grace had come to terms with this long ago. "One of them kept me after class one day. He explained how without proper mentoring, my talent would never blossom. This would, of course, reflect badly on my parents and the rest of my family.

"I took him up on his offer of additional tutoring, of course. I had no idea of his intent. After I'd spent every night in his company for a week, he told me the price of his assistance. He... used me."

Drew looked up at that. "What did you do?"

"What could I do? I cleaned myself up and went home."

"You didn't tell anyone?"

"He was right. I needed his knowledge."

"But... but you could have gotten someone else!"

Grace shook her head once in negation. "He was scum, but to this day I've not met another instructor capable of driving a music student as he did. Or maybe that's what I tell myself, since at the time I didn't know how many other teachers had applied to be my mentor."

Drew just leaned there, shaking her head slowly as if she couldn't control her own motion, her own emotions. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't do it. You were a world away, years younger than I. You could not have prevented it."

"I wish I could have. No one should have to feel like this."

Grace shrugged again. "How do we know if we feel what anyone else feels? When I arrived at his office at the end of his next school day, he claimed I liked it, made it a frequent component of our sessions. He wanted to open each lesson with such activity, but I told him I was too tired after. In truth I couldn't keep my hands steady."

"How long?"

"Two years after our first lesson, I came to realize he'd begun repeating himself. When I pressed him for more, he demurred, threatened to reveal our relationship, use it to destroy my reputation."

"What did you do?"

"I did it myself. I informed my parents, my other teachers, and the police. By then everyone in my hometown had some inkling of my talent. Given the choice of losing a has-been music instructor or one of the greatest musical prodigies of her generation, they chose to believe me."

Drew's posture had grown stiffer and stiffer as Grace's tale wound on. Now she snapped. "Yeah, you got support. It's not the same here."

"Is it not?"

"Your friends believed you! They didn't sell videos of you banging your music prof for profit!"

"No. They did not. Instead, they watched me, placed me under constant surveillance, for 'my safety'. What little personal life I'd managed to have evaporated like spit on a griddle. My old mentor went into psychiatric care; it turned out his own mentor had done much the same to him. Of course, that meant I was watched all the more carefully whenever circumstances forced me to be around music students younger than I, lest it 'happen again'."

"Yeah, it's still not the same!"

Until now, Grace had kept her emotions in check, holding them back with the same iron discipline that had let a twelve-year-old remain functional when a man twenty years her senior raped her. Drew's anger finally broke through that reserve and sparked her own lurking fury.

"Why? Because you are American? Because you are a policewoman? Because you are not a child? Why? What makes you so special?"

"I'm not special! I just... I don't... This kind of..." Anger rose, peaked, and vented in a scream which shook the walls, "I'm not a victim!"

"Why not? What makes you so special, so much better than me?"

"I didn't say I was better than you!" Drew paused, scraping to rescue the right words from her fury. "I'm... I've trained, my whole life, to be one of the people who stops this kind of thing. I promised myself I'd never be one of those women weeping in the station, battered after being abused time and again by some man."

"You've succeeded there. Unless she is more adept than most cross-dressers, your molester was definitely not a man."

The monitor shattered against the wall next to the door. Grace didn't flinch. Flinching never helped. "That's not what I meant!"

"Then what did you mean? Make it very clear to me, Drew Williams, so I can understand this thing you claim I do not."

"I'm not weak!"

Silence reigned. Drew stood, panting, in the middle of the room. Grace stood, shrugging the leather jacket on backwards for the little protection it provided. She walked over to her angel, her newest friend, and without warning slapped her across the face.

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"What?"

"Never call me weak again, Drew Williams."

"I didn't..."

"This thing which happened to you also happened to me. It happens to others, each and every day. It happens to one in three women in the civilized regions of the world. In the rest of the world, when they even care it's not considered worth surveying. It's just part of being a woman."

"But..."

"Be silent, Drew Williams. This thing that happens to so many, are you implying it only happens to the weak? Think carefully. Whatever you think about the victims of this crime, know you are thinking this about me."

Drew stood there, mouth working, her shoulders slumping until she reached out blindly for support. Grace took her hand, guided it to her own shoulder, and left it there. She did nothing else, silently waiting for the other woman to speak. After an eternity, tears started leaking from Drew's eyes. She blinked them away without noticing. Her left hand clenched into a fist, her right lay listless on Grace's shoulder.

She finally spoke, her voice tiny, "What am I gonna do?"

"You will go on. You will remain strong. You will heal." Grace shrugged, and Drew's hand fell from her shoulder to hang listlessly by her side, a strange sight with her other hand clenched so tight her bones squeaked from the strain. "Or you will not. You will hide, and flinch when faced with strength, and lash out to vent your frustrated anger when faced with weakness."

"I wouldn't! I couldn't... I..." Drew slumped back to the desk, her clenched fist opening just in time to catch her. "Fuck me. I just did, didn't I?" She slid to the floor, framed by rich, dark mahogany and slate on the floor.

Grace stepped up to her, the difference in their heights emphasized by how close to her waist Drew came when seated on the floor. "You will again, I am sure. You have no more control over that than you would over flinching when you put strain on any other injury. What makes you strong isn't a lack of flinching. It's moving again after you flinch."

Grace reached out her hand. Midnight, still blinking her eyes free of moisture, reached out and took it.

***

Jack slipped carefully off the back of the rental truck, massaging his back as he did. Steve hadn't hit every pothole in the road, but Jack's back felt like he had.

"You okay back there, Hammer?"

"I'm fine, Axe. You feeling any better?"

The young smartass sauntered around the end of the truck, the ragged ends of his coat flapping around his legs. He had the thing buckled in front, because his pants hadn't grown back when his legs did. His axe hung from a strap in the bed of the truck. He reached in to grab it, flashing his ass to the entire garage.

"C'mon, Axe, I don't need to see that."

"You could have grabbed it for me."

Jack just shook his head and walked toward the base entrance. Before he got there, the doors slid open, and a vision of leather clad fury stormed out.

"Where is he! Where's Charlie!"

Before Jack could even open his mouth, Steve replied. "Hey, rich girl! What's shakin'?"

Drew changed course in midstride, one hand reaching out to point at Steve. Jack stepped toward them to intervene, but a hand on his arm stopped him. A small Chinese woman stood beside him, her head shaking. When she saw he'd stopped, Grace removed her hand and stood, watching.

"I do not have patience for your bullshit right now, Steve."

The young idiot showed no more caution than he had when he leapt from the Skycar. "Yeah, well. What else is new? Any chance I could get you to buy me a new pair of pants?"

She stepped up to him, getting right in his face. "I swear to god, Steve, if you don't shut it and tell me where Charlie is, I'm going to break it off and shove it up your ass."

"Hey, whoa, unlike some of us, I'm not into that whole same gender thing."

Faster than Jack could follow, she grabbed the remains of Steve's coat collar in one hand and lifted him off his feet. "One more word, asshole..."

"Hey, look, I don't judge. You do what you do. I just wish I was..."

Jack didn't even see her fist move. One second, she held Steve in front of her, the next he flew backward, a few shreds of his coat still dangling from her grip. The fireman tumbled away, limbs limp, and rolled to a stop halfway across the hangar. Grace stepped forward, but Jack lay a hand on her shoulder, stopping her as wordlessly as she'd stopped him.

Steve pushed himself to his feet. "Damn. I didn't know you were into all that rough stuff."

Drew stalked toward him, heels striking the pavement. "Steve..."

"I guess that's a no on sex, then?"

This time, when she started swinging, she didn't stop. Over and over, she punched him in the gut, in the chest, and in the face. With each hit he flew backward, limp, only to push himself to his feet a few moments before she reached him. When he staggered, she hit him with an uppercut, flinging him into the air. She hit him a dozen times before he slammed into the far wall. He slid slowly down the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He slumped when he reached the floor, utterly motionless.

"What, out of snappy comments?"

Drew stalked over to where Steve lay, each step less determined than the last. By the time she reached him, she shook so hard Jack could see it from where he still stood next to the base door. She dropped to her knees next to his crumpled form.

"Oh, god. Oh, god, Steve, why the hell did you... what the hell did I do?"

Jack started across the bay, Grace by his side. Drew tried to touch Steve but couldn't complete the motion.

"God, Jack. Why did you let me... what did I do?"

"I dunno, Williams. What do you think you did?"

She turned up to him, fury in her eyes immediately extinguished by shame, but the words already flowed from her mouth. "I lost my temper. I beat one of my best, oldest friends to death in a fit of rage. And you... you didn't even lift a finger to stop me. Either of you!"

Grace reached out with one hand, brushed an errant hair from Drew's face. "Would that have served any purpose, other than to add two more bodies to the floor?"

"Oh, yeah. I can beat up mister special forces here."

Jack shook his head. "Honestly? Yeah, I think you could. I might slow you down, but I don't think I could stop you."

"So why didn't you at least fucking say something before I broke Steve's goddamned neck?"

Jack smiled. He'd realized Steve's intent late, but he had eventually realized. "As to that..."

Steve groaned, air wheezing from a hole where one rib poked out of his chest. Drew's head snapped around, but before she could do anything Jack leaned over and pushed the rib back into position. Steve let out a muffled groan and pushed himself up until he leaned against the wall. His eyes fluttered closed, but he drew in a ragged breath.

"So. Feel better?"

Drew slumped over, eyes fluttering closed.

"Ah, hell. Did she just faint?"

"Yep."

"Dammit. I had a great line about her not being as good at eating me as the bear all lined up."

Jack kept his gaze focused on the wall a few inches above Steve's head, carefully shuffling around the unconscious woman on the floor until he could lift Steve up and carry him toward the base entrance.

"Miss Chung? Could you wait here with Midnight until she wakes up?"

The little Asian woman just sighed and nodded, then settled down cross legged beside the sleeping angel. Jack clamped down on Steve when the young man tried to squirm out of his grasp, ignoring his pleas until the base door slid shut behind them. A few seconds after it did, Steve started laughing, the movement spraying bits of blood from his few remaining cuts.

"Steve? You okay?"

"Oh, hells yeah. I just realized something that makes up for the bear line."

"What's that?"

"Well, y'know how some chicks look passable when you're talking to them, but then you wake up the next day and realize why people say, 'she's got a great personality'?"

Jack set Steve carefully on his feet. He staggered a little, but with one hand on the wall managed to remain standing.

"I'm familiar with the phrase, yeah." He wasn't about to let Steve know how familiar he was with the phenomenon. Young body or not, those days were in the past.

"Drew's so hot straight guys and lesbo chicks literally can't keep their hands off her. Makes me wonder about you, by the way."

Jack just stared at him, waiting. He was also long past the point where minor insinuations could disturb his calm.

"Well, anyway, she's that hot, but only when she's unconscious."

"Your point?"

"She is literally irresistibly hot, but her personality is so bad nobody notices unless she's unconscious."

Jack left Steve leaning against the wall, laughing at his own humor. Old enough to ignore most trivial bullshit or not, he needed a drink.