Hey, guys. It's been wayyy too long. No, I'm not dead, just lazy :'( Anyways, thanks for all my lovely reviews! I love you all, heheh. Anyways, this chapter is dedicated to Tinuel, whose helpful and thoughtful reviews have been one of the reasons I look forward to putting a new chapter up (though I'm sorry she had to have such a lame chapter dedicated to her :P). Thank you:D

Oh, and by the way, I changed all the titles of the story. I've decided to make it a theme…tell me if you can figure out what it is and what the reason is. I'll dedicate the next chapter to whoever figures it out first.

t.I.G.r.E.S.S.

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I woke up because I felt like there was someone watching me. Almost instantly, my eyes were open and I was wide awake, jolting up and off my stomach like the pillow had become a pile of snakes. Almost as instantly, however, pain shot through my wings and back at the sudden movement, and I gasped at the unexpected flare. Apparently the medicine had worn off a bit.

"Take it easy," a gruff voice commanded. The hairs rose on the back of my neck, and I gulped. Whose face was I forced to see first thing in the morning in the hospital? One of my friends? A doctor? A nurse, maybe?

Nope. The one who'd put me in the hospital in the first place.

"You're going to hurt yourself even more."

I tried to say something along the lines of "Wow, thanks for that innovative suggestion. You obviously care so much about my wellbeing because you charbroiled my wings into something reminiscent of fresh off the grill. I appreciate your concern!" Instead, thanks to having just woken up and a sudden lack of courage, I grunted, "Hnnnh."

I felt my face heat up at this nonintellectual sound that would've made a caveman proud, and the facts that my hair was all messy, I had yesterday's makeup on, and I was in a frickin' hospital gown just added to my joy. It's not like I really cared that Warren had seen me like that…it was just that no one should have seen me like that, period. Crap.

I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed to let my tense and throbbing wings unfurl a little. I was feeling a little dizzy, and the pull of the nasty tubes in my arms stung where they entered, making my stomach roll queasily. I took the time to look at Warren. He was dressed in his typical cheerful attire, black jeans, a black T-shirt with a red eagle design on it, and a black leather jacket. His hair hung down in front of his face, all emo-like as usual as he eyed me eyeing him. There was something in his hands that were sharply contrasted amidst the sea of black and red: a small bouquet of white, pink, and yellow flowers. It looked something like a scene from one of those little kid shows: "Okay, kids, what doesn't belong in this picture?"

Clearing my throat once or twice, I clenched and unclenched my hands under my thin sheet nervously. "Um, what are you doing here?"

Warren held up the flowers, looking a little discomfited. "Well, when someone is sorry that they accidentally caused another person harm, they usually go see that person and tell them that they're sorry."

I nodded, still feeling a little apprehensive. It was an accident and everything, I knew that for sure. But I still couldn't quell the feeling of having a loose cannon sitting in my room, watching me and waiting for me to mess up so he could do worse than just scorch my wings. I knew the hospital people wouldn't let anyone malicious in, but all the same…

"Well, apology accepted." I didn't know what to say from there, really. Uneasily, I started finger-combing my hair, something of a nervous habit. It's actually really straight, so it's not that hard to work it into order without a brush. That's beside the point, though.

There was a few moments of uncomfortable silence- during which I wished myself in any other position than the one I was in- while we both chose to look at anything but each other, and then Warren sighed. He crossed to the other side of the room and opened the cabinet under the sink.

"How are you feeling?" he inquired mildly as he produced a large plastic vase that the hospital apparently provided complimentary. I absently noted that it seemed like he knew what he was doing…like maybe he'd done it before a couple of times.

"Ah," I said, taken by surprise by the conversation's focus on me, "um…as well as can be." I answered as truthfully as I could, not wanting for him to feel sorry for me.

"Eh…I'm glad," he said, the words sounding a little awkward. Warren filled the vase and unwrapped the flowers. He placed the plants in and came back to my bedside to deposit them by my nightstand. I was startled even more when he pulled up a chair and sat down. The solitary hawk in me tensed warily, and I fixed cautious eyes on him.

Warren visibly looked as uncomfortable as I felt, but it seemed like there was something in him that wouldn't let him leave just like that. He played with the black, fingerless glove on one of his hands before speaking again.

"They look bad, you know," he said frankly, not meeting my eyes.

"Huh?"

"Your…your wings."

Self-consciously, I pulled the aforementioned limbs closer to my body automatically, ignoring the twinges of pain in them as I did so and looked away. He looked so…sorry. There was something of juvenile tragedy in his large, dark eyes, and the way he sat, hunched over and vulnerable…for an inexplicable reason, my previous anger melted away like it had never been, and I just felt like I had to reassure him and comfort him.

"Uh…well…it's all right, I-"

Unexpectedly, Warren cut me off. "No, it's not," he said sharply, looking at me intensely. So intensely that I felt my heart squeeze. His gaze locked with mine, and I found that I couldn't look away, that the air was heavier, that it was harder to breathe.

"I…" he started, then it seemed like the fire went out of him. He let out a long breath. "It's not the first time I've done something like this. Put people in the hospital, I mean. It's…it's not all right."

"But you…you don't mean to, I'm sure." I fought to find words to tell him that I wasn't angry anymore. He was forgiven.

He let out a dry, brittle-sounding laugh, as if it was pressed too hard it would break like a dried leaf. "You know," he said, pseudo-changing topics all together, "if you hadn't interfered when you did, I could've put Kevin and Layla in the hospital, too."

I blinked. I did know that. The knowledge was a slight salve on my painful burns.

"I…I just…get that way," he admitted bitterly, looking fascinated by a spot on the wall just past my head. "I get so angry, it's like I can't see straight anymore…" Warren seemed to wake up suddenly, and he shook his head, looking chagrined at having said so much. I had to admit, it was astonishing. The most he'd ever said to me had been an average of single-syllabled words, with an occasional sentence thrown in. And before now, I had been very glad of it, him with his rough and uncouth ways and aura of intimidation.

But…but now…I wasn't so sure. There was more to him than just a hot-headed thug, I could see that now. He was a person, something that had never occurred to me before. He had a mind and a conscience and a heart, unlike my earlier assumptions. It was so…strange. To see him with his guard down like that, I mean.

"Anyways, when are you getting out of here?" asked Warren, as if he was in a hurry to get the subject off him (like I'd even brought it up, anyways).

"I'm not sure," I said, fiddling with the corner of my sheet that had been laying across my lap to cover my legs (the hospital gown didn't do that great of a job in that area). "Probably tomorrow…I don't want to stay here longer than I have to." I looked up as the words left my mouth. That sounded too much like complaining to me, too much like the topic we'd tried to leave behind.

But Warren just nodded understandingly. "Well…I…that is…just…um, get better soon," he finished lamely. He stood and headed for the door. Just as he was almost out, he turned. "If you, uh, need help with anything after you get back to school, just, ah, ask me."

I opened my mouth to reply with "thank you", but he left before I could speak. The offer had probably embarrassed him. Though, I might add, I thought it was very sweet.

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Compared with my interesting morning, the rest of the day was über boring. I was very thankful, however, when the nurse took out my IV. Though I thought I was going to throw up from just watching the needle slide out of my wrist. Even though it made me sick to think that the tube had been jammed in my veins, somehow I couldn't look away as it was pulled out gently.

There's one thing I can say for being in the hospital: it's the most boring thing in the world. Even one with the most state-of-the-art technology in the world. I got tired of watching the TV, doing homework, surfing the net on the hologrid, and playing the complimentary Gamecube. I wasn't even allowed to look out the windows and people watch or anything, on account of St. Crosswind's location being constantly teleported from one "government building" to the next to avoid evil bad guys shooting up defenseless supers.

I was left with a lot of time to think and sleep. Nurses came in every once in a while, but aside from that my mind just kind of went on automatic. Little flashes and images kept flicking through my head…Warren, looking like the flaming Grim Reaper, Amy, Kevin, and Layla's frightened faces, Warren looking so apologetic and innocent…that particular image seemed to be on repeat mode, because I kept wandering back to it.

You know, maybe I was on too much meds.

I was in the middle of starting a history report that kind Mr. Redden had thoughtfully assigned us when my mom came in. I was kind of surprised to see her; I'd lost track of the time and was startled to realize it was the end of the day. Homework had kept me preoccupied for a good three hours.

Mom looked tired. I greeted her quietly, watching as she made her way to my bedside. The way she sat reminded me something of a tired, little old lady who'd just taken a long journey that had been far too long for her weary bones. There was something on her mind. She was troubled.

"What's the matter?" I inquired, gently placing my hand on her forearm. Mom gave me a brave little smile and placed her free arm on my hand.

"It's nothing, Kes."

I eyed her. She was lying. Everything about her told me that, from her posture to the forced-neutral tone of her voice. But I wasn't about to press it. Mom looked like she had enough on her mind, and she'd probably tell me in time.

Changing the subject, I asked, "How was your day?"

"Oh, just fine, chica." Her mouth curved up lopsidedly. "How about yours?"

"Eh, fine," I echoed, pulling my hand away to touch the spot where the tubes had been.

Mom automatically moved my hand gently and touched the little pinprick herself. "Did it hurt when they took it out?"

"Nah, it just felt gross."

She smiled slightly at this, and we fell silent once more. I didn't think I'd ever felt this awkward around my own mother. Not even her drinking escapades had ever made me feel like this. What was she keeping from me?

After a few more moments of listening to the clock in the hallway tick away, Mom opened her mouth, then closed it.

I touched her hand. "Mom, just say it. What's wrong?"

She looked at me, and I could almost see the bags and wrinkles on her face, marked deep by worry and apprehension. The wheels were turning in her head, and at last, she decided I was grown enough to hear what she had to say.

She spoke, and I listened.

"Kes…what the school is willing to pay isn't going to cover your medical expenses."

I winced inwardly. Oh, no. Our narrow budget was going to be stretched to the limit, then. Are we going to be homeless? Sell our belongings? Is Mom going to have to work even more hours than before?

"What…what's going to happen?" I asked quietly, feeling my face mirror her worry. What does this mean for me?

"Kes…I'm sorry," she whispered, shame shadowing her face, "But I'm going to need you to get a job. Maybe two."

The knot in my stomach unraveled. It wasn't as bad as I thought. In fact, why had I never taken a job sooner? Mom had always objected to the idea, insisting that I focus on school and being a teen, but our finances should've overruled her fantasy of me leading a normal teenage life. I should've started working a long time ago. I felt humiliation well up in me that I was now only going to get a job because it was my fault that we had more money problems than before.

"Don't worry, Mom," I told her, my voice soft and reassuring. "I'd be more than happy to start working. Just…don't worry about it."

I knew it bothered her deeply that she had to ask me. It was compromising her maternal morals and parenting values, but sometimes in life, those things have to be gotten over.

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T: All right, guys. I've done my duty (finally). Time for you to do yours. :) And if you're bored, take a good look at the chapter titles and take a guess at what they have in common.

And hmmm…I wonder where Kessy is going to start working:D