Tear Stained (Whitney's Training)

[ITakeBribes]

It's rainy today. Clouds hang over the sky and a funeral just makes sense. Even better? Four funerals. Four people, found dead in their house, victims of robbery gone bad. What could make this better? They're daughter, they're sister. She's still alive. She stands at the edge of the caskets, rain pouring down around her. The umbrella shields her from the rain but even if wasn't there, she would never notice the water cooling her, or her clothing clinging to her body. She was as dead as the people in those caskets. 

A hand reaches out and touches her shoulder, this is nothing new for today, she's hugged so man, touched so many people. This hand though, it's warm, it's comforting. A small smile appears on her face, the first thing she's felt in days. As she turns to look at the body connected to the warmth she's feels, she see's a man, taller than her, in his late 40's. He holds the umbrella over her, yet she doesn't know him. He looks to her and smiles, his face shows age and wisdom, his hair wet and pushed back due to the rain. He has an umbrella, but he is protecting her. Why? Who is this man? Why does everyone seem to greet him as though they know him? Thoughts begin to flood through Whitney's mind, thoughts... Thoughts! She can thing again, her mind is free from whatever hell she's locked it into. 

No words are shared as the service ends between Whitney and her umbrella man, but she follows him to the car to leave anyways. They both sit in the back seat, and the man looks to her, his suit drenched in water. "I'm sorry, Whitney, but know that I am here for you. Please, feel free to ask me anything..." The driver begins his route, and Whitney begins her journey.

[WhitneyJezebel]

Whitney doesn't reply at first.  What's there to ask? To say?
The car rumbles down the road. Whitney notices as the city shrinks in the distance, trees rush by her in greater numbers.  The roads start to grow rougher.  Where are they going?
"Where are we going?" she repeats aloud, her voice barely above a murmur. Her gaze doesn't break from the outside world speeding by.

[WhitneyJezebel]

"Home," Reese replied, glancing her way even though she continued to stare out the window. "We'll have to get you settled in before you can get back into a routine of things."
Routine?
The word bounced around in Whitney's head, echoing off the back of her disorganized and blurry thoughts, eventually fading into the loud mess that was her unlocked subconscious.  One thought did occur to her though.  She wondered what her mind looked or sounded like to the man next to her.  The man with the umbrella propped against his soaked suit pants.
"I don't think any less of you right now, Whitney," he said, startling her a bit. "Your thoughts are yours alone.  Everyone thinks differently at different times and I certainly don't expect you to form cohesive ideas right after what's happened to you."
Whitney finally turned from the window to face "umbrella man".  He gave a small, sympathetic smile and placed his hand on her shoulder once more.
"You're safe with me," he said. "Your thoughts are safe with me.  As your mentor, it would be shameful for me to betray your inner most contemplations, your deductions, your secrets."
Whitney stiffened a bit at the last bit and the man let out a small short chuckle.
"That being said, you won't be able to get away with most of your charming little social tricks, pathological lying, manipulation, etc, with me as you have with your previous company."
"Because you can read my mind?" said Whitney, her gaze flickering to the hand that rested on her, but soon slid off and rested on the man's lap.
"Because I know how to do those as well." Another little smile crossed the man's lips. "The mind reading helps yes, but your aura gives you away very easily."
Whitney frowned at umbrella-man and took a deep breath.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Why don't you try to figure that out?" he replied softly. "Just as an exercise.  Don't give me that face, I won't try any tricks you can't handle."
Her frown grew.  She didn't want to do this right now.  She didn't want to perform stupid magic tricks or mind tricks or any tricks.  But her curiosity got the better of her and she concentrated on the mind next to her, trying not to push herself as she was already exhausted from fatigue.  A few of the man's thoughts popped into her head, but none telling her who this man was apart from her mentor, but she already knew that.  Finally, as she was nearly done holding her breath, a name materialized in front of her thoughts.
"Reese?" she breathed out.  The man nodded and, once again, gave a gentle smile.
"Good job," he said. "Although, holding your breath doesn't really help.  I know it feels like it, but it only wears you out faster. Keep that in mind."
Whitney nodded, and the conversation ended there, the car still rumbling down the road.

[WhitneyJezebel]

Whitney's shrill scream was enough to wake the dead, but the only one around to hear was Reese.  He'd leaped out of his bead and practically flew across the hall to Whitney's room where she sat up, curled up in a trembling ball, clutching at the messy black hair that shrouded her face.  Her unsteady breath was wracked with half-sob, half-hyperventilating.

"Whitney!" Reese placed a firm hand on her back and she jolted, falling over on her side, still curled up. "Whitney, calm down."

Her mind was flooded with shadows and flashes of other things, the remnants of horrifying dreams, nightmares, the severed connections that seemed to spark and flutter like an electric circuit to which someone had taken a crowbar.  Reese leaned over and lay a hand atop her head, shushing her in a gentle tone.

"Come on, calm down."

The sensation was sudden and very strange to Whitney.  Reese's words suddenly felt muffled, as if she were underwater.  Then her hysteria began to fade, the sensation of warm water rushing over her brain, pooling under her temples.  Just a calm, warm sensation, comforting, soothing.

"That's better," an audible statement from Reese that she finally heard. "Come on, sit up."

He first had to pry her tense white fingers out of her hair in order for her to help herself back into a sitting position.  She continued to lean over her knees pulled up to her chest, hiding her face, taking in gulps of cool air while Reese patiently rubbed her back.  This stranger, this man she'd only known for less than a week, was being so kind, so patient with the mental mess that was this pitiful girl.

"Thanks..." she mumbled, half a whimper.  She really was in a pitiful state, but what could she do about it? She was pretty much fucked up since the destruction of Genesis' castle, the screams of her family and other families, and then the surprise call to identify the bodies of her family that had been  "murdered".

"Do you want to talk about it?" Reese asked, readjusting where he sat on the edge of the bed, ready to listen.  Whitney shook her head, still buried in her knees.  He continued to sit with her in silence, working a little bit on calming her mind, putting her panic to ease.
This was going to be a little harder than he thought.

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