Taylor flexed and curled her fingers, trying to bring feeling back to them. The tips were numb and the feeling was slowly spreading downward. She sat huddled on a fire-escape, staring across the way to a window in which she could see Vincent sitting on a barstool.

Rain cascaded from the sky in endless sheets, drenching Taylor. Fifteen minutes of remaining in her current spot had given the rain sufficient time to worm its way through each layer of clothing. Still, she didn't move.

From her perch, she could see the way Vincent continually scanned the bar, the eager tapping of his leg on the stool rim. He was waiting for someone and Taylor was determined to find out who. This time she wasn't going to make the same mistake as last time, she was going to stay where she was and get the information her brother needed.

At the start of the night, as she waited, she had let her thoughts turn over the argument with Clint from earlier. The fight seemed to be the end of their training sessions, but she still needed them.

The idea of asking Dominic for help flitted through, but she hesitated since he was already helping her. No solution was landed on because as the cold crept into her body, she had only been able to focus on remaining where she was instead of retreating to somewhere dry.

She wrapped her arms tighter around her, wishing her jacket was more waterproof, instead of the sponge it seemed to be. Shivering, she pressed her back against the building as if it could offer more shelter than it already had. When she feared she would have to leave or else freeze, Vincent stood. He nodded to a man that paused before him, then the two of them walked out of the line of sight.

Taylor stood, using the wall to stabilize her wobbly legs. With a thought, she transferred herself to the roof of the bar and peered over the edge. The rain beat a chaotic rhythm on her head, droplets falling from the edge of her hood.

Below her, Vincent and the man exited the bar and got into an SUV. As it drove off, Taylor followed, jumping from one rooftop to the next. The bursts of teleporting began to wear on her, but she kept pushing, not willing to give up just yet.

By the time the car stopped outside of a warehouse, Taylor felt exhausted and it took everything she had to remain upright. If it weren't for her knees being frozen with cold, she figured she would have collapsed.

The men climbed out and entered the warehouse through a side door. After checking no one else was around, Taylor popped up on the ground by one of the windows. Though covered in a layer of dirt, she could make out the interior.

It was a large, dimly lit space with concrete floors and walls dotted with grimy windows. Besides a white van, a dozen wooden crates and tarp-covered mounds along the wall, it was empty. As Vincent and his companion approached the van, a man with slicked-back hair, a hawk nose, and a greasy smile appeared from around the back. He waved his arms out to the side in greeting, his words stolen by the rain and the glass.

Knowing she had to hear what was going on, Taylor searched for a way to listen while being hidden. The tarp covered mounds were an option but she worried they would make noise and expose her. She spotted a crisscross form of beams near the ceiling. The fluorescent lights cast the niche in shadow.

Shaking with cold and with no other option, Taylor vanished and reappeared. She landed on the dinner-sized plate cross-section. The sole of her shoes were slick and she slipped. Taylor gasped and reached for a slanting beam overhead as one of the men let out a loud laugh, covering her entrance. She clung to icy metal, heart beating wilding against her ribs.

When she realized she wasn't going to plummet to her death, she looked down at the trio. The men were still talking, her near-death incident gone unnoticed. Trembling, she slowly lowered herself down to the small section and sat. Nerves rattled through her body, zapping away what remaining strength she had.

Though the warehouse was dry, it was chilly and Taylor clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. At that moment, she didn't know which was harder to feel, her lips or her fingertips.

From where she was positioned across the width of the warehouse and high up, Taylor was only able to make out every other word. There was a ledge directly above the men, but she knew with her stiff limbs she wouldn't be able to make there and not fall.

Instead, with aching slowness, she teased her phone out of her pocket. The one thing about her that was impervious to the rain. She clutched it, only knowing it was still in her grip because she could see it, even if she couldn't feel it. If she couldn't hear what they were saying, she figured she could at least record their faces.

"Showtime!" the slick-haired man said, his voice bouncing around.

When the man lifted the lid of one of the crates with a flourish, Taylor nearly lost her balance. Head pounding with a building headache, body frozen and numb, bone-weary, it was all worth it.

For in the crate lay a row of automatic rifles. The man hoisted one from its place and pointed it in the air. Instinctively, Taylor hunched, even though the muzzle wasn't aimed in her direction at all.

"A thing of beauty, gentlemen," the man said, voice raised again.

Vincent and his partner both nodded, but didn't share the man's fervor for the weapon. Whether it was a buying technique or they were used to high powered guns, Taylor didn't know. All she concentrated on was recording as many details as she could.

The phone began to waver and that's when Taylor realized it wasn't just the phone. She shook with cold. Carefully stowing away the phone, she held fast to the beam under her. The storm was now inside her head and she struggled to think through it. With the last bit of energy, she focused on two things: dry and bed.

When the world reformed around her, she was still in the seated position as before but there was a thick carpet beneath her. She reached up to her hood, removing the sodden thing from her head.

Unsteady, she pushed herself up to her feet. The world tilted and she stumbled, banging into the edge of a bed that was not supposed to be there. Grabbing hold, she managed to keep herself from falling over.

She blinked, trying to understand how her bed had moved places. On top of that was the strange feeling that her room didn't smell like her room. Before she could break through the thunder in her mind to the answer, the light flipped on. She shielded her eyes, momentarily blinded.

"Taylor?" a rough voice said.

Lowering her hand, Taylor stared at Dominic. She swayed, blinking at him.

"Why...are you in...my room?" she asked.

Dominic rubbed his eyes and glanced at his phone, checking the time.

"What are you talking about? You're in my room."

It was then that Taylor gazed around, seeing that she wasn't where she had thought she planned to be.

"Sorry," Taylor said, pressing her palm to her head, wishing the pounding in her head would go away so she could think.

"Are you drunk?" Dominic narrowed his eyes, taking in her soaking clothes. "Wait, why are you wet?"

Taylor shook her head, but that was about as much as she could offer on the subject. Dominic stood, looking her over, confused, his gaze stopping at the floor. Part of Taylor knew she must be dripping onto his carpet.

"Follow me," he said.

Unable to form her thoughts, Taylor did as he said. He led her into a bathroom. On the other side was a second door and he locked it.

"Come on," he said. "You need to get out of your clothes."

Realizing what he said and how it might be interpreted, Dominic backed away. Taylor didn't notice, she was unzipping her hoodie - that had molded itself to her body - letting it drop to the floor with a wet plop. Her shirt soon followed.

As she reached for the hem of her undershirt, Dominic stopped her with a hand on her arm. What he planned to say was stolen when he snatched back his hand.

"Jeez, you're freezing."

Taylor knew she must be, but all she felt right then was a crushing numbness. Dominic reached into the shower and flipped on the water. As Taylor stepped out of her squelching shoes, steam filled the bathroom.

"I'll get you something to wear." He faltered. "Huh, if you need me I'll be outside."

Taylor managed a nod. Her jeans were plastered to her legs and she teetered as she yanked them off. Leaving a pile of her clothes on the tile, she ducked under the water. The heat burned her skin as it forced its way through the numbness of her body. She stood huddled, shaking from cold and exhaustion.

Once the chill had been taken away, she was left with fatigue that dragged on her. Turning off the water, she grabbed a towel and wound it around her. Dominic knocked on the door.

"Are you done?" he asked, voice muffled.

"Yeah." The answer gave out as a rough croak.

"I have clothes for you."

Taylor cracked the door open and Dominic handed her a stack of sweats. She changed, having to pull the drawstring as tight as it would go to keep the pants up. The socks pooled at her ankles and the shirt and hoodie drowned her, making her feel like she had shrunken somehow. When she stepped out of the bathroom, Dominic stood waiting.

"I need to get home," she said.

She rubbed her eyes, her head taking a beating. Before she could disappear, Dominic stopped her.

"You can't teleport."

She frowned, but in her tired state, it barely registered.

"Why?"

"You showed up in my room, who knows where you might accidentally go."

"But I need to go home."

She pressed her hand against the wall to keep herself from falling over.

"Then we'll do it the old fashion way. I'll drive you home."

Taylor nodded and let Dominic take her arm.

"Come on. I'll deal with your clothes later."

The world went still as Dominic opened his door. As they walked, Taylor staggered, falling towards Dominic. When this happened twice, he finally put his arm around her, keeping her steady with his body. His house was a blur, the only thing Taylor was conscious of was putting one foot in front of the other and even that wasn't always successful.

When they stepped into a garage, she shivered, the concrete floor cold through her socks. Dominic led her to a large, silver pickup truck with mud caked on its wheels. He helped her into the passenger seat, buckling her in, and she curled up, resting her head against the center console.

The interior had a strangely pleasant smell of fresh dirt, oil, and wood. The world started spinning again as Dominic rounded to the other side. The engine rumbled to life and Dominic turned every vent on her, blasting the heater.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

Taylor tucked her fingers into the oversized sleeves and pinned them to her chest.

"Dos Pecos park," she said. "The street before it, Valley Street. Yellow house."

Metal ground together as the garage door lifted and the truck retreated onto the road. The rain beat against the roof, the sound soothing. Streetlights flashed overhead as the truck ate up the pavement.

"What were you doing in the rain?" Dominic asked.

It took a minute for the words to process in Taylor's brain.

"Tailing bad guy," she murmured.

Pieces of what she had seen poked through the dense fog in her head.

"I need my phone," she said.

"Where is it?"

"Pants."

This time Dominic took a moment to understand what she meant.

"Don't worry, I'll get it to you."

"Important. Evidence," she breathed out.

Dominic had no response. The engine died down as they pulled up to the curb. He jumped out and opened Taylor's door. She knew that she should sit up, and get out but the strength to move was gone.

Still, she urged herself to open her eyes, to lift her head, do anything other than lay there. But her body wouldn't listen to her promptings. Dominic leaned over her and snapped the buckle open.

Gently, he slid his arms under her knees and around her shoulders, lifting her. The warmth of him felt so comforting and solid, Taylor curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He smelled like his cologne, the scent doubled due to her own set of his clothes.

"You smell like a forest," she mumbled.

Dominic paused but ignored the comment.

"Do you have a key?" he asked, nudging the door closed.

She shook her head.

"Gate. Back door is never locked."

Taylor rocked in Dominic's arms as he crossed the front lawn towards the side gate. The pain in Taylor's head was gone. It was unexpected and she opened her eyes as if that could help make sense of why the storm had suddenly stopped. What she saw froze her in a different way than the cold had.

The air shimmered with a million raindrops hanging motionless. The street light behind her glinted off them, turning them into diamonds. Awed, she raised her hand and popped one of them. It exploded into a hundred small drops that all stayed suspended where they had formed.

"Wow," Taylor whispered.

"Yeah, it's cool," Dominic said, his lack of emotion contradicting his words. "I have to reach the handle, can you hold onto me?"

Still transfixed by the paralyzed scene, Taylor wrapped her arms around his neck. He got the gate open and followed the stone path to the back porch. Taylor dropped her head back to his shoulder, the darkness stealing away the world of droplets.

At the back, Dominic let them into the house and followed Taylor's directions to her room. He lowered her to her bed and she crawled under her blankets, kicking aside the pillow man she had made before she left.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

She sank into the soft mattress, asleep before she could hear his reply or see the second he vanished from her room as if only a dream.

**********************************************************************

"Not a great plan."

Jeez someone needed to tell Taylor this! That girl has got to slow down or she gonna die from exhaustion. What are your thoughts of all of it? 🦹🏼🦸🏿‍♂️🦸🏽‍♀️

I must say, gotta love Dominic for stepping up to the plate and helping her out. I thinking he's edging forward. Especially after the debacle with Clint!

I have proof for you of my complete and utter oddness lottie watty tottie odd-ie-doodleness!

You can stop smiling so loud, yes I know you already had a ton of proof, but this is real real proof!

So lately when my sister (murphnturf) and I take our dogs for a walk we pick up the trash that it all around the neighborhood.

As you know trash is gross, sticky and sometimes drips on you and ewwwww! So! To fix the problem we got one of those trash picker grabber upper things that have little claws and a handle so you don't have to touch the gross nasty stuff.

Us buying it is not what makes me odd, what makes me odd is the sheer happiness I feel with knowing we now own the picker grabber upper things! Woohoo!! We can't officially look like complete weirdos as we walk our dogs and pick up trash.

But hey I don't think anyone should have the right to complain, we are picking up their trash for them after all!

What do you do that's strange to someone else but you don't care because it makes you happy?

Also I'm thinking of dropping the Fun Facts, I don't think anyone likes them. Let me know.

Lastly, would you be able to bear the burden of a double update next week? Look! I know it's going to be a challenge to read two chapters in ONE day but I have faith in you. Do you have faith in yourself?

Vote, comment, follow but only if you stand for a cleaner environment!