AN: this is sorta a response to Lady Phoenyxx's bunny to chronicle the events running up to SIC. I'm not entirely sure I like all of it, and it's definitely not as funny as the others, so apologies in advance if this disappoints you. Maybe inspiration will strike and I'll rewrite some of the scenes one day. And ObsessivelyOdd - I really hope I manage to keep you as a convert...

Alex stopped and took a deep breath, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She certainly didn't look any different, unless you counted the tired smudge marks beginning to appear under her eyes and the fact that her hair was still mussed from bed: it was, after all, three in the morning, and it had been an hour ago that she had suddenly woken, an epiphany fresh in her mind, and before her more rational side had even contemplated getting dressed – or even managed to get her to put her shoes on – she had been out the window and racing down the dark street to the closest 24-hour pharmacy, where the cashier had taken in her appearance – pale, wild-eyed, barefoot, clad in thin pyjamas – and given her a look full of female sympathy and understanding that made her wonder how many other half-crazed teenagers had made this same desperate run. It's going to be okay, she tried to convince herself. What were the chances, anyway? Extreme stress gave similar symptoms, she knew that, and god knew she was under enough stress at the moment… It's just the stress. You're paranoid… She carefully avoided the reminder that it tended to turn out that it wasn't so much paranoia as extremely good instincts. You think God/Fate/whoever-the-hell-is-pulling-the-strings-up-there is out to get you too, now?

She exhaled slowly, and, in one smooth movement, brought the stick up to eye level.

Blue.

Blue was bad.