It's early morn... (open)

The second they'd handed Lily back to her Maggie was off like a shot. Her ipod, named Lily after Mila Kunis's character in Black Swan, was in her hands, seemingly as shiny and purple as the day she bought it. Maggie had loved Black Swan, at least what she saw out of it. Her mother had deemed a few parts inappropriate and fast forwarded. But Mila Kunis was something of a role model to Maggie so Magdalena couldn't let her miss it. Beautiful, talented, Ukrainian. Everything Maggie was and all of what the world would see in her soon enough.

Recently, Mila Kunis had helped Maggie over another issue. Her black eyes. So hideous, so obvious. They needed to be hidden, distracted from. Maggie had brought to mind Mila's signature look as she stood before the mirror. A dark, sultry, smokey eye had it all look like it was on purpose. Or at least distracted enough to hide it. Enough that the beauty queen could leave her dorm.

Her dorm was where she rushed first. Stripping off her clothes as soon as the door closed behind her. She pulled on thick grey tights, a deep purple leotards, then a floaty little slip dress on top and a lavender wrap sweater over top that. Her dance shoes and a sheer wrap skirt went in a bag with her ipod and she was off again. Heading for a classroom, unused on the Saturday morning. Quickly she started moving desks as much as she could. Picking them up to keep the noise down. She needed to clear a space, to stretch out. She felt like she needed that like she needed air suddenly. This house was suffocating. Once she was there her shoes were swapped and her excess clothing was scrapped. Once her legwarmers were slipped on she looked every bit the dancer. So far from the mental patient she supposedly was.

She sat down in front of her speakers and began flipping through songs. It had been so long, or at least it felt that way, Picking a song to start with seemed daunting somehow. Like each beloved sound was fighting for dominance. Little clicks sounded as she scrolled through. Eenie meanie miney moe...

Finally, she picked what called to her. The first notes acapella 'aaaaah-aaaah' sounds quickly joined by slow thoughtful notes. She stood and turned on her toes. A little pivot to face the front of the room. She so strongly wished she had mirrors but blackboards would have to do. The melancholy sweetness of the singer's voice wrapped Maggie up like a blanket against a storm. "All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go. I'm standin' here outside your door. I hate to wake you up to say goodbye"

She started to dance. Un-choreographed, just improvised as she took in the sounds. She bounced high on her toes. Her arms moving gently and gracefully, like a mermaid underwater. Her face quickly softening to match the tone of the song. She began to sing along as she danced. All part of her training of course, though more emotion showed than usual. That beaming pageant smile was missing. Instead the gentle heartbreak of missing family filled her face. A little bird in a big wind and too far from her flock. From a flock that planned to loose her all along.

Saturday mornings in Wayne's home had never really started for him until midday, and that was usually because one of his little brothers wanted to play his xbox with their mates. How very different it had been then to be woken at an ungodly hour, and forced to get up. When woken from his sleep Wayne often found himself in a foul temper, and a mood that would last most of the day.

The young man had finally found his feet among roommates he still hadn't spoken a word to, and made his way to the showers. There was nothing more important than cleaning yourself up after you'd spent an untold amount of hours lying in your own sweat. Wayne wasn't a clean freak, but you can't beat the feel of warm water on tired flesh.

On his first day Wayne had been forced to listen to the 'regulations' and 'code of conduct', having heard every word of it he stored it in the 'who gives a crap' part of his brain, and decided to follow not a word of it. To prove this point, and of course ignoring the fiasco with the broken window, the fifteen year old pulled on a pair of jeans which hung loosely around his hips and didn't cover as much of his underwear as would have been preferred. He then grabbed those trainers he still so desperately needed to replace, their battered soles were on the verge of peeling away; and finally a black hoody that read across the front: TALK SHIT, SPIT BLOOD.

Pulling his hood up over his head Wayne knew the chances of being told to change were high, and the chances of never seeing the hoody again were also pretty high. He was a strong, stubborn kid though and they'd have to take it from him, he wasn't gonna give it up. Wayne Cross loved any excuse for a fight.

The walk down the stairs and onto the floor below consisted of students walking either toward or against him. Wayne had not bothered going to breakfast, which was odd for him because usually he loved to eat. Instead he had used the time to stroll the campus, if you chose to use such informal words for the institute he begrudgingly called home. One good thing did come from this decision though, and as Wayne was turning to head off and see what his chores actually consisted of he caught sight of a young woman disappearing in another direction. Enraptured by curiosity Wayne glanced round to ensure no-one would follow him and started down the corridor after her.

Pausing at the classroom door Wayne peered through the small window, he watched as the girl stripped off some of her outer clothing until she was barely dressed at all. She was a dancer. Leaning into the door Wayne watched her start stretching, she was probably warming her muscles up much like you're supposed to before any exercise. There were two things Wayne observed. The girl was all alone in the classroom oblivious to anything and everything going on around her, and she was stunning. Dropping his hand to the door handle, Wayne gave the one thing that separated them a gentle shove. The door swung open easily and Wayne quietly closed it behind him – there wasn't a lock.

There wasn't a lot Wayne knew about dancing but as he watched her he couldn't help feeling a little mesmerised. The way she twisted and turned with a grace he might have compared to Pelé, something she might have not seen as a compliment. Wayne swallowed, he didn't want to give himself up just yet, he wanted to remain a hidden unnoticed observer. Just for a few more minutes. In his mind Wayne turned her dancing into struggling, he imagined trapping her between himself and one of the desks; his much greater weight crushing her. He could picture her screaming for help, heard it in the back of his mind. He pictured forcing something down her throat to shut her up, digging his fingers into her tender flesh and taking what he wanted - his heart rate quickened.

As the girl danced Wayne moved closer to her, the mesmerised state that had claimed him had faded. Coming up behind her Wayne pulled his hood further over his face, then reached out and grabbed both the girl's arms, spinning her to face him. “You know, I've always liked dancing.”

As she danced, all she could see was visions of her family dancing through her head. Mamo, tato. Myla, Peter, Lyuba, Basil and the others. Visions of sunny California instead of the cold English country-side that lived outside. This time this year, Maggie and the family would have set aside the time for the seasonal celebrations. Feast of Jordan- Iordan to Ukrainians- was the last important celebration in the old calendar. They'd put on their Sunday best and head to the Orthodox Church, they'd see the Holy Water blessed and have a sip. Hoping for good fortune and blessings over the coming year. Later the priest and his wife would stop by the house. Enjoy some food with the family and bless the threshold of each door. Maggie thought about sitting in church and having her mind wander this was and that. Bored but content. Now she longed for that. The blissful normality of her family and their rituals and routines.

But more than that, she sorely missed the feeling of the stage: bright spotlights caressing her skin-instead of the cold cruelty of this home and how it seemed to flaunt everything that was wrong in her life. She wasn't supposed to be here, in her own personal nightmare. The thought of it made her feel ill, like she was empty inside. Or that might have been due to her skipping breakfast. She was a hollow-girl. She mentally insisted that the music, the spirit of dance would fill her up. She never needed anything more than that.

Still, she'd learned a few things since she'd arrived at Highgrove. Her blue-grey eyes slowly opening up to the real way of the world. Outside of her training and her tight-knit, mission-oriented family. Mostly she'd learned that looks were deceiving and that so many of her peers only touched the world in a violent way. Not pleasant lessons to learn certainly, but that seemed to be all the home had to teach the tiny dancer.

Just as she was realizing there was another body in the room-just as she was coming to a stop and her head whipping around-that was when hands closed around her slim arms. Maggie's heart jumped into her throat. That black hood pulled up over his face was one step away from being a cartoon grim reaper. It was immediately obvious his intentions weren't pure.

"Let me go!" She shouted it immediately. Because that was a girl was supposed to do right? That was how one dealt with unwanted touching. Maggie's face creased into a scowl. The glisten of tears living in her eyes, the aftermath of the emotional moment of homesickness she'd just been having. After seeing all the violence living in Highgrove house, after being it's victim once after her run in with Harry in the stairwell. Maggie wasn't about to be it's victim again, not if she could help it. She pulled sharply against the arms and pulled her leg back and shoved her heel forward fast. Aiming to slam her heel on top his foot. Although she never had much agression in her, there was certainly a strength in a dancer's legs. She could do some damage if she had to luck to land her strike.

((Sorry for crapness I've hurt my hand and can't type properly u.u))

A grin spread across Wayne's lips as he saw the look of fear on the girl's face. His grip tightened and he started to direct her backwards toward one of the tables. He'd taken the lithe dancer by surprise, and that in itself excited him. The tears brimming at the corners of the girl's eyes made his grin broaden. Then she cried out.

There are three phases Wayne expects from girls, the first phase is muted fear when their brains are trying to make sense of what they know deep down is about to happen. The first is always the most interesting, for some girls they never quite get past it. They try to but it's as though their brains have shut down completely. The second phase is a scream or cry of sheer panic, desperately trying to get the attention of any passer by. It's the phase most men worry about, and one that can mean the difference between getting off and getting caught. Wayne kind of liked the danger. The second phase was where this girl was right now. Like the first phase some girls never got past phase two, and from the look of her Wayne didn't expect she would either.

It was as Wayne was ready to accept victory that the girl tumbled into phase three, an escape attempt. It wasn't Wayne's favourite phase but it had its use, and that was to fuel his own desire.

The girl's heel came down with the full force of her body weight right onto Wayne's toes, fortunately the boy's trainers took the brunt of the attack, but it still hurt. With a low grunt the teenager drew his foot back and shifted his balance onto his other side. Stupid bitch.

“I wasn't gonna hurt you” Wayne drew back his hand aiming to strike her squarely across the face, “too badly.” Grabbing her shoulders he used his greater body weight to drive her backwards, “Now you're gonna shut your gob,” he moved one hand up to brush hair from the side of her face. “Or I'm gonna shut it for you, understand?” Wayne's intentions were clear, and had no desire to hide them from here. Nor did he believe, in any part of his being, that what he intended to do to her was wrong. She didn't know it now, but in the long run she'd enjoy herself.

Seeing the rage, seeing the swing, Maggie saw everything flash before her eyes. The month and a half of mornings spent covering face with concealer. The begging for dark sunglasses and being denied. The constant fear and hushed conversations with Cecil. The looks she got. they were the worst. All this time she couldn't stand eyes on her. A feeling she normally craved. But now all she could think were the ugly things spectators might be thinking about her. That she was some kind of scrapper perhaps? A trailer trash fighter of some kind. Or maybe that she'd put herself in that situation: that she liked it like Cecil did or maybe that she was just the type of girl who stayed in a relationship like that. How Ellen had hinted towards her old life.

She did everything she could to get out of the way of the fist headed for her face. She tried to push away, tried to bring her hands up to protect her. The result was the strike handing somewhere between her neck and chin. Maggie choked. Coughed violently. Her head spun as her throat seemed to struggle to take in air again. He was pushing and she didn't have the strength to push back. She stumbled where he lead. Her rear end banging up against the table he'd aimed to shove her into.

Finally, as he swept the hair off her face, a strangled sort of sob left her lips. A kind of desperate hopeless sound. She couldn't be that girl again. As much as she wanted to hit him, to run from him. She couldn't risk her looks again. She couldn't be the maimed monster they all stared at and judged negatively. She pushed again but only slightly. Just trying to keep him from her face. The bare minimum.

"Okay... okay I promise." she said through a sob. One of those lurking tears finally broke free and slipped down the side of her face. Cheeks flushed from adrenaline. Her american accent cracking a bit with fear. "I promise, I'll do whatever you want. Just don't hit my face. Please don't hit my face... Not again. Please."

She was begging and she knew it but she didn't see another way out. Maybe with some pleading she could aim for a minimal loss. She was shaking, crying, begging.

Remi's weekend mornings weren't hard to predict. A warmup, a nice, long run, then he'd find an empty room somewhere and see about some pressups, chinups, or whatever else he felt he needed that day. The rec rooms were out, he didn't want to draw any attention to himself, just to keep in shape. The run wasn't difficult, even the frigid English weather wasn't so bad, compared with some places he'd been back in France anyway. This place wasn't the alps, even during the blizzard a few weeks previously. Once he was done running, he headed back towards the building, peeling off his jacket almost as soon as he was inside. Now, to find a nice, empty classroom and ge-

"Let me go!"

A panicked yell from a girl in one of the rooms he'd assumed was empty? That got his attention. Dropping the jacket he'd had draped over his arm, the t-shirt clad Frenchman darted towards the source of the sound, the runner's high he was already feeling mixing with a new burst of adrenaline. He had no idea what he'd be finding in the room, but there was a girl in apparent distress, and the gentleman in him just couldn't let that stand. It wasn't like she'd be dressed up for his little fetish anyway, so there was absolutely no way he wasn't going to get involved. What if he walked in on a rape? How many pieces would the other guy be in?

A solid kick got the door open, the kind of thing he'd seen in movies all the time, and that his dad had once shown him how, exactly, to do. This was not a time for subtlety. From the look and sound of what he was seeing here, that was exactly what he'd just walked in on, and with a loud curse in French, hopefully enough to get someone else's attention even if Maggie's screaming hadn't, he advanced on the pair. Seething, he reached for the boy's punching arm, intending to drag him back away from the defenceless girl. This was not right, wasn't this place supposed to be helping the kids? Where the hell were the staff?

Judo likley wasn't going to be a great help here, but Remi figured he'd be able to improvise well enough. Balling his other hand into a fist, he jabbed for the other boy's abdomen. The girl was one he'd seen around before. She was pretty, he doubted he'd be able to control himself if she was in the right attire, but she'd had those bruises at the dance, and she certainly didn't deserve more. Defending her was worth the time he knew it would get him in seclusion, and not just because he knew the other boy would get even more. "Salaud" he growled, jabbing again, hoping Maggie had the sense to run for help.

Wayne appreciated the sudden turn of submission, and her terms were not unfair. She was hot and it was reasonable to let her remain as such, he didn't need to damage her face anyway. What Wayne didn't appreciate was having to really work for what he wanted, so when he heard the door fall in and instead of staring at his victim he was staring at another boy he was far from pleased. The other lad looked strong and wouldn't have jumped in if he didn't think he could win, so Wayne wasn't going to take this lightly. The first confirmation of this was the hit to the stomach. Wayne doubled over and let out a grunt of pain, he wasn't much of a strategy fighter, relying mostly on his physical strength and the force he could put behind his punches. The fifteen year old didn't know any particular kind of fighting, he wasn't a karate or judo expert but he knew how to punch and he knew how to hurt people. Wasn't that all that mattered?

Doubled over Wayne knew he had to do something because right now he didn't have the upper hand at all. So instead of trying to find his feet and right himself the boy drove his shoulder forward attempting to his the other lad in the ribs. Physically speaking Wayne was probably stronger, he was shorter but they must have weighed around the same. So if he could judge it right Wayne's strength might have been his greatest asset.

When the other teenager spoke Wayne laughed. He was a dirty frog. French bastard. Needs to mind his own god damn business. Having aimed to force the boy back with his shoulder charge Wayne grabbed hold of the boy's shirt with one hand and drew his fist back ready to deliver a punch.

From his position Wayne had left his back exposed to attack, but his face was buried and protected. His stomach was accessible but only by the other boy's knees, and an attack like that would likely take them both off their feet leaving Wayne in the advantageous position of 'being on top'.

Whilst the boys scrapped Wayne couldn't help his mind drifting back to the girl and what had recently been interrupted. If he lost this fight he'd have to fight the other boy on another occasion to prove it was simply the fact he'd got him by surprise; and if he won he could go back to what he'd been doing – presuming the girl didn't do a runner in the mean time. Damn it.

Maggie squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to see what happened next. Whether her begging only egged him on and there was another punch to the face coming or if it made in smile or anything else. Maggie just wanted to be else where with every inch of her. She tried to think of someplace else. Her old home, or Hollywood Blvd, or even just her quiet little bunk in Dormitory four. As much as she tried to cast her mind out, her body remained so wholly there and alert with the fear in her blood. She seemed to feel every inch of her skin as every revolting bit of this boy touched her.

A crash made her eyes snap open as Remi came barrelling through the door. Maggie had seen him around certainly. His tall dark frame and that accent were extremely hard to miss. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut again and made a mental thank you to the God that blessed her enough to put her in the business of being saved. Between Remi and Cecil it seemed she had guardian angels here at Highgrove as much as she seemed to have boys after her blood. She held her breathe until Remi handed a punch, the attacking boy doubled over, letting go of her arms.

For a moment Maggie felt frozen. She was free, but was she? She'd promised. If she ran away she was breaking that promise. She didn't care what this boy thought of her obviously, but there was a part of her scared stiff. What if that made him angry? As in really angry. It was such a small place where they were living. In no time he'd find her again, he'd learn her name, where she slept. What if he came back for her even worse than before? With Vengeance.

But as the boy engaged, a full-fledged fight beginning, she knew it was now or never. Maggie ran for the door as fast as she could. Her slippers gripping the floor and barely making a sound as she moved. She glanced behind her quickly as came to the door. Partly scared the boy might have followed her. Then through the door and she opened her mouth wide.

She was a dancer, an actress and a singer. With a singer's lungs. She screamed without words at first. As if she were sounding a siren, letting as many people as possible know that something was wrong. Then she used her words as she moved down the hall further and further from the violence.

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME! THERE'S A FIGHT HERE! HELLO! SOMEONE HELP!"

Victoria's Saturday morning had been going fine, lonely, filled with a good book and a cup of tea. Okay, more like five cups, but who was really counting? Victoria had a problem regulating her caffeine intake, but it was her only vice these days, or so she liked to think to placate her chiding conscious. This one was very like all of her Saturday mornings for as long as she could remember, particularly since she had begun to work here. She had not anticipated a trip to her classroom, but there were tests to grade that she had forgotten to bring back to the house with her. With a sigh, she cursed her failing memory, got dressed in clothes decent enough to be seen in public in, and made the trip to the main building and through the near abandoned corridors. Shivering from the chill wind that lingered on her skin, Victoria was just starting down the corridor that lead to the little room that had been allotted to her when she heard an absolutely piercing scream and saw a girl running out of her classroom, still screaming. Her heart speeding up, she hurried her steps to meet the girl, whom she now recognized as Maggie Luchak. Gripping the girl's arm for a moment to assure her attention, she said,

"Did you say there's a fight? In the classroom? Are you okay?" She fumbled with the walkie talkie she was now glad she'd remembered to bring and swallowed, continuing with a voice that had gotten a little higher in pitch, "Just...stay here and calm down, Maggie. If someone comes, point them in the right direction. I'll go and see what's going on." Releasing the girl and walking swiftly down the hallway, the teacher brought the walkie talkie to her mouth and said,

"This is Victoria Larkin. There's a fight going on in my classroom...I need some help, please. Right now." There was more confidence in her voice than she was feeling.

She entered the classroom with as much authority as she could muster. Two boys were brawling, just as Maggie had said...well, fuck. This was what Victoria had been afraid of all along; she could hardly step into the middle of the fray. She was a little thirty one year old woman; there was no way she was going to pry these two teenage boys off each other. Instead, she used the tactic she had used on stray dogs that got into her garbage.

"Hey!" Victoria screamed as loud as she could. Without thinking, she picked up the big lesson book from her desk and brandished it threateningly, continuing, "Stop it right now! Security is on the way. You two had better separate and chill the fuck out."

In honesty, Remi most likely would have jumped in if he thought he was going to lose. He was far more interested in helping Maggie get out than anything else, trusting in the staff to break this up before it got too far. Even the consequences of his little charge didn't matter to him, so long as the attempted rapist got what he deserved. His blow seemed to have had the desired effect, the boy let Maggie go, and turned his attention to someone who could defend themselves. Probably a first he supposed, and judging by the reaction, certainly the first time he'd fought someone who actually knew what they were doing. Perhaps Judo wasn't wasted after all.

The fight likely wasn't going to go the way Wayne was expecting it to. He might be stronger, but that didn't worry the Frenchman in the slightest, one of the basic principles of Judo was to use your opponent's strength against them after all. He might be ready to punch, but when that punch came, Remi was perfectly ready to use it's momentum (And Wayne's arm as leverage) to throw his opponent over his shoulders and onto the floor, hopefully hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He'd practised similar moves for years back home, and even over here he'd managed to get into a class or two, before he'd got himself arrested anyway. Rusty or not though, he was confident.

Thankfully, a teacher arrived before the fighting could get very far, though from the sound of her, she wasn't going to be particularly effective at actually stopping the boys. Remi didn't even spare her a glance though, he was far too focussed on his opponent. At least Maggie had got out though, even if he did end up losing this fight, at least he'd done his good deed for the day. "It isn't me you want to worry about." he said, intinding his comment for the woman, but keeping his eyes on the boy. If he was dumb enough to try to rape Maggie, who knew what he'd do to a female teacher? Hopefully, security would be along shortly to put a proper end to things.

---

About the last thing Dr. Gunner Bjorgen wanted to hear over his walkie-talkie on a Saturday morning was that there was a fight commencing in the classrooms, not all that far from his office. Earlier, a couple of clean, crisp lines of finest Columbian had chased away his Scotch hangover, but his stomach was uneasy, and his tolerance for the day already thin, fragile. Weren't weekends supposed to be for rest? Not at Highgrove, they're not. You know better than that. Seconds ticked by in silence, as the radio went quiet again, and Bjorgen tried to concentrate on his morning newspaper. Any minute now. Security will answer that they're on their way any second... Oh, fucking hell!

With an irritated and impatient huff, Bjorgen folded his newspaper back onto his desk and jerked open one of the drawers -usually locked- to retrieve a couple of items which he stashed in his pocket before getting up to leave. Italian leather loafers beat an irritable rhythm against the antiquie tiles of the hallway as he headed off in the direction of the classrooms, and it wasn't long before he could hear the ruckus for himself. He couldn't overly blame the rather vapid hippie of a teacher for not wanting to physically intervene. By Bjorgen's reasoning, those who subsisted on fucking wheatgrass and rainbows would just as likely be knocked over by a feather. Besides, she was a teacher, not a psychiatric institution orderly. She wasn't trained to handle this. Not like Bjorgen, who had been working in places far more dire than Highgrove for a number of years now. He knew what he was doing, and he was impatient and irritated enough that he would not be satisfied until someone was drooling into a cup, up in seclusion. You destructive little shits. Couldn't you at least wait until after lunch time?

Coming upon the scene moments later, Bjorgen immediately assessed the situation from the doorway. Useless hippie teacher with a book. French fetishist. ...New boy. Ah, yes, sexual sadist and general pain in the ass. He read the files. He always read the files, even for patients who were not his own. It just so happened that the new boy was in fact his patient however, so he'd spent some time perusing and making notes. And now here they were, meeting for the first time. Gunner Bjorgen's voice was crisp and authoritative when it boomed from the classroom doorway. The edge on it suggested that any failure to comply would result in unpleasant side effects.

"Cross! Durand! Stop this immediately." He was kind to give them a chance, he thought to himself as he moved into the room a few more paces, thumbing a cap off of one of the items in his pocket. He missed the old days sometimes, the days back at Crane Pharmaceuticals when it had been like Russian roulette every time a cap came off. Would they drop like a stone, or would the medication have to go back to the drawing board? Lorazepam seemed tame in comparison, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

---

The grip on his arm took Wayne by surprise, he'd been in a lot of fights in his life but they'd always been with other boys who just did whatever it took to win. He hadn't fought someone who was trained – ever. So it was quite a shock to him to have his own strength and weight used against him, and to have a weaker opponent best him so easily. It would have been a lie to say Wayne had much time to think between being on his feet and lying flat on his back. The moment he realised he was down, the desire that had got him into the fight in the first place had all but left him. Nothing kills your sex drive quite like getting put down by another guy.

Disorientated and a little worse for wear it took Wayne a few moments to realise the ringing in his ears wasn't ringing at all, it was a woman's voice. The woman was shouting at them to stop and Mr. Knight-in-shining-armour was quick to turn her attention to Wayne. Prissy French twat.

Sitting up Wayne gave his head a quick shake trying to sort out his senses, and focus on what was being said. The woman wanted them to 'chill out' and French-boy seemed to be trying to play bodyguard to everyone with a pair of tits.

After a few moments Wayne pulled himself to his feet. He wasn't interested in getting in the woman's knickers, or making her any more afraid or nervous than she probably already was. In fact he didn't give a shit about her, right now Wayne's attention was on the Frenchman. He wanted to give seven shades out of the smug bastard, and in that vain Wayne pulled his hoody off and tossed it on the ground. One less thing for the other boy to grab hold of.

As Wayne started forward a man's voice rose from the doorway behind him. There was a moment at which he hesitated, he wanted to get just one more shot in, one more hit. At the same time something in his brain told him it wasn't worth the hassle, and on a further note the most idiotic part of his brain was prompting him to turn round and aim his aggression at the man. Fortunately, Wayne isn't as idiotic as his brain would like and while he wanted (badly) to exact a little revenge on his opponent for downing him so easily, he chose the more sensible route.

Folding his arms across his chest Wayne shifted his gaze from the other teenager to the man standing in the door way. “You gonna do something boss? Or are you jus' gonna stand there.” One thing Wayne detested was bowing to anyone's authority, and though it pained him to let the fight end this way being able to cheek the man seemed to ease the blow somewhat. Even if there was the possibility of it simply trying the doctor's patience.

She exhaled. Finally. It seemed like ages before an adult came down the hall. But finally she saw one. One of the teachers. But Maggie's heart dropped a bit as she realized the teacher Miss Larkin was nearly the exact same size as her... was she going to be able to help at all? Though it had to be noted that Maggie was slimmer, of course. Maggie nearly ran into the woman.Leaning forward in her short stop.

She flinched as the teacher grabbed her arm, reflexively pulling away a little. The feel of hands on her right now was unwelcome at best, horrifying at worst. Why did everyone insist on touching her? It was like they were all constantly checking that she was still there, still with them. As if Maggie could simply disappear.

Still pulling away, she shut her mouth and nodded quickly to the teacher. Just wanting her to let go and do something. Maggie could follow instructions though, that was her specialty. She could stay in the hall. She could handle that. That was all she wanted to handle really. The hall was safe at the point right then. She didn't want to be anywhere else.

Maggie pressed her back to the wall to steady herself as the teacher rushed away. She was a little in shock, only barely listening to the kerfuffle continuing. Eventually she saw the good doctor that ran the place. Maggie managed a weak gesture in the direction of the classroom, but he didn't even seem to register it. He went into the classroom too. Maggie could still here her music playing beneath it all, though Leaving on a Jet Plane had wrapped up, now a instrumental ballroom number was playing.

More yelling. Last names now in the doctor's voice. Maggie's mind jump-started at the sound of Remi's last name. He didn't deserve to get in trouble. This wasn't his fault. He didn't deserve to get in trouble when he was just trying to do the right thing. Maggie stared out at the doorway to the classroom. She didn't want to go back. She wanted to run back to her bunk. Hide there under the covers.

Maggie squeezed up her face. She needed to do something. She couldn't just let Remi get in trouble for helping her. She had to do the right thing too. Even if it meant trusting that this home would do it's job for a change and actually protect the patients who needed some protection. She stomped one of her dance slipped clad feet in frustration and turned back towards the room. She slowly deliberately walked over. Hoping the chaos might die before she got there. She gingerly peeked her face around the corner. The boys where still fighting, but the adults between her and them gave her comfort. She spoke up, though her little accented voice sounded small.

"Please don't hurt Remi. He was just helping me...."

Victoria was strung so tightly by that point that she almost smacked Bjorgen in the face with her book when he arrived, but she controlled her muscles and instead set it down on the desk again. She was glad that someone had come, someone who knew what they were doing, because these boys obviously didn't intend upon listening to her at all. Not that she had really expected them to...but she had thought that if she screamed and cussed at them maybe they would at least look at her. No such luck. There had been fights at the schools she had worked at before, but those were regular schoolboys, just joking around. If you looked at them sideways and frowned they stopped and walked off to opposite ends of the courtyard to cool down. These kids were...different. She stepped back as the head of psychiatry stepped forward. The teacher was not needed here anymore, but she felt as if she should stay to defend her classroom and possibly Remi Durand. He had insisted that he wasn't the one she should be worried about, and she believed him. He'd always been very polite to Victoria. This new boy seemed...volatile. She'd never heard someone talk to the imposing man like that before.

"Please don't hurt Remi. He was just helping me...."

Victoria turned around to look at Maggie, whom she had forgotten about. A little rush of guilt ran through her -- she'd just left the poor girl out in the hallway by herself. That had been a dumb move. Victoria was useless at this sort of thing. She joined the girl outside the classroom, saying,

"I believe you, Maggie. Dr. Bjorgen will get this all straightened out and then you can tell him what happened." She hesitated for a moment, getting her breath, combing her hair off of her forehead nervously. This was not a good state of affairs; the teenage girl was more calm than she was. Finally, she continued, "Let's go off to the side here. Will you tell me what happened? That's assuming you're fine and don't need to the clinic or anything." She walked a few paces away from the doorway, assuming that she girl would follow. Victoria wanted to know what these three had possibly been doing in her classroom on a Saturday morning, and, almost as importantly, why there was music playing in the background of all this chaos.

Though it was tempting to make certain his opponent stayed on the ground for as long as it took for security to deal with him, Remi made no further aggressive moves. he kept his eyes on the boy though, ready to knock him back down if he did anything stupid, but thankfully, it wasn't necessary. Another staffer showed up, this one with some real authority in his voice. Stepping back from Wayne, he looked to the doctor and nodded, moving out of the way, but staying where he could be seen. He hadn't done any damage to anyone, he'd just put the boy on the ground and saved the girl. He'd be fine, a night in seclusion at most. Wouldn't he?

As Maggie spoke up, he looked over to the doorway and gave a smile. "I'll be fine." he said, before turning his attention back to the doctor. It seemed like the boy he'd thrown was determined to make an idiot out of himself, and likely get put down on the floor again, but Remi wasn't going to get involved unless it looked like the doctor was actually in trouble. Seeing no need to explain things just yet, he even stayed quiet. Statements and explanations would come later, once everyone had calmed down and they'd moved somewhere more appropriate than a random classroom.

Thankfully, the teacher moved to take care of Maggie, and after shooting another smile to the girl, he just stood back and let whatever the doctor was planning happen. No sense in resisting whatever it was, he'd broken the rules too, and he was fully prepared for the consequences, whatever they might be. Hopefully, once this was all over, he'd get to chat with Maggie away from all the crazies she seemed to attract. he'd seen her around, and while he'd intended to talk to her, and to ask her to dance back at the Christmas ball, he'd never got a chance to. That all relied on him getting out of seclusion in the next few months though, but how bad could it be?

---

You gonna do something boss? Or are you jus' gonna stand there?

Of all the people at Highgrove to bait and to jeer at, Dr. Gunner Bjorgen was probably the very last one that most of the residents would have picked. But then, they'd heard the rumours already. They'd seen him at the head table every dinner, hawk eyes scanning each and every face for tiny signs of trouble. They'd seen the boys and girls carted off to seclusion, and witnessed his quick-draw hypodermic needle talents. He hadn't dedicated this many years of his life to psychiatry without learning a thing or two, and compared to some of the places he'd been and some of the patients he'd handled over the years, the children of Highgrove proved something of a vacation for him. Breaking up a classroom fight and sustaining the verbal jabs of an unruly brat seemed to pale in comparison to trying to take down a full grown paranoid schizophrenic during a bad medication reaction. All Wayne's words earned from Bjorgen was a slight lift of his right eyebrow, a tiny little warning, a precursor to the potential storm looming just beyond the horizon. The fighting had stopped, and he intended now to find out what had started it before he made any decisions, or paid any mind to the brat who didn't know when to keep his face-hole shut.

Ignoring the baiting, he glanced between the boys and listened to Maggie's fearful murmur before Ms. Larkin escorted her out of the blast zone. There were a number of conclusions he could jump to, given the files of both boys, but his gaze settled on Wayne Cross' face, glacial and probing. If this egotistical young man wanted to keep a fight going -directed now at Bjorgen- he was welcome to try. it would be a valid excuse to jam a hypodermic needle squarely into his thigh. Not that he really needed an excuse. For now he would play Switzerland though, and get to the bottom of this.

"What happened here?" He demanded, his hands still in his pockets, his pose casual, confident. He was not intimidated by either of them, which was flagrantly apparent, and he would not feed Wayne's overinflated ego by rising to his little jeers. If Wayne wanted to ruffle the head of psychiatry, he'd have to do better than that. His words brushed by like leaves caught on an autumn breeze. He'd been called worse by far better. "Mr. Durand, do you have an explanation, or do you both need some alone time to think about it?" Alone time being seclusion, of course. Remi would probably understand the subtle threat, even if Wayne did not yet.

Wayne was no psychologist, he wasn't trained to read people's every expression of gesture but he could pick out a man who thought he was the King of the world, and despite what they might expect he wasn't going to be intimidated or walked on. The man hadn't given Wayne any reason to feel anything but disdain for him, and frankly the teenager was on the verge of simply grabbing his hoody and making for the door. What were they gonna do about it?

Now, as I said, Wayne has no real understanding of body language beyond basic instinct and the innate understanding we develop through years of basic interaction. However, he recognised the other boy's reaction as – perhaps not submission – but certainly not defiance. There was something to the man before him, and Wayne was interested to discover what exactly that was.

Leaning back against one of the tables, Wayne hauled himself up to sit on the wooden surface. His legs hanging a few inches from the floor. The boy studied his new 'foe', watching the doctor as he turned to face him sending a rather cold stare his way. Wayne responded with a smirk.

It wasn't long before silence was broken – or rather the silence between the men. The female teacher and the girl had been talking off to one side. Wayne hadn't really been paying attention but he suspected their conversation consisted of much of what this one was about to; and there it was. The man wanted to know what had happened, and Wayne could tell from the way he was staring at him that he didn't think it was a gathering of minds.

There was a moment when Wayne was about to speak but then the older man addressed the other boy. Was his opinion worth more? Or was it a simple fact that the Doc didn't think Wayne would tell him the truth? Either way Wayne leaned back on his hands, allowing himself a more relaxed posture. Briefly Wayne considered not saying anything at all, he'd just let the other guy do all the talking it wouldn't end up the same either way; it wasn't like Wayne was gonna lie about it. Of course it would sound worse coming from the other two, 'cause hell other people always make it sound worse than it is.

Changing his mind at the last minute Wayne decided to share his opinion. “Hey Boss, don't you have cameras?”

Maggie nodded quick again. She retreated into the hall for the teacher to follow her. She didn't want to stay in that boy's line of sight. Maybe if he didn't see her any more there could be a chance that he might forget her face. Was that a possibility? Maybe if they gave him one of those heavy drugs she heard some kids complain about. She certainly hoped they did. If anyone deserved to be drooling into a cup kids like this and like Harry, they did.

Sure, Maggie seemed. Composed for a girl who was damn near raped only moments ago. But Maggie was trained in hiding in plain sight. She knew how to compartmentalize when she needed to. She might not have been smiling her pageant smile at the moment but the shiny veneer was the same. Later, when she was trying to sleep, that was when she'd feel every bit of it over and over again. She'd shake, cry, panic. She'd pray that she'd just fade away in her sleep, just to avoid seeing that face again. So she wouldn't have to think about the feel of his body heat through the thin barrier of her dance-wear ever again.

"I'm okay," it was the truth but it felt like a lie. She was intact: not broken physically or bleeding or anything. There was a part of this that almost felt scarier to Maggie than the time Harry attacked her. Harry had been beyond violent. Thinking back on it, Maggie felt like there was a chance he could have killed her. Slamming her head into the wall like that. But for a while, before Wayne had touched her. She felt safe. Sad and homesick certainly. But she was dancing and there was something about that act that comforted her. She for a moment felt happy, healthy, whole. Like the girl she felt she was, even if everyone else was telling her she was sick in the head. That dancing girl wasn't sick, she was barely human. She was a vision. Wayne shattered that vision in a second. That was the thought that really chilled Maggie to the very bone.

"I just got my ipod and speakers back, so I wanted to dance. I tried to practice before but without music it... well it wasn't great." Maggie shrugged, wrapping her arms around her middle. Eyeing the door between statements. "So I came here because I figured I could move the desk around. I was going to move them back when I was done. He snuck up on me. He grabbed me... and he hit me... right here." She ran her fingers along the inflamed area of her neck and chin. Hesitating to go into more detail. "Remi saved me." she finished. Not really wanting to tell the teacher anything Wayne said or seemed to want....

Well, that explained the music and what Maggie was wearing. Victoria could see how the abandoned classroom would seem like a good place to practice on a Saturday morning -- she didn't blame the girl for anything that had happened. The teacher just felt intensely bad for her. She wanted to give the student a hug, but she doubted that was what the girl wanted just then. Judging by the way she had pulled away before, she didn't want to be touched at all. Victoria reined in her maternal impulses and instead said,

"You did the right thing by yelling for help. I'm just glad that you're okay." Victoria was impressed inspite of herself with Remi's gallantry. She didn't approve of fighting in any form, but it took some real bravery to jump into a scuffle with an obviously belligerent person for the sake of someone else. She intended to thank the boy later for saving Maggie from what could have been catastrophic injury or even death, assuming that Dr. Bjorgen didn't just throw him in isolation with the other boy. She didn't really know the policies towards violent offenders here, even if they were protecting a third party, but she guessed that they were somewhat less than tolerant.

Victoria peered at the red area on Maggie's neck; it looked like it had hurt, but no skin was broken, nothing out of place. Except probably the poor girl's nerves. She didn't seem that flustered, but the teacher was willing to bet that she was pretty freaked about all of this. Victoria wasn't a psychologist and she wasn't all that good at consoling people; she didn't know what to say next. She imagined that there had to be correct words to say in this situation, but none were coming to mind. She had just wanted to grade her damn tests...

"Hey, let's talk about your dancing. That's what you came here for, not to be harassed by some mean spirited boy. Have you been doing it for long?" Maybe distracting the girl would be the best tactic. Who wanted to talk about these unpleasant things for longer than they had to? Talking about something that she liked would hopefully pass the time until the doctor had sorted out the boys in the classroom and come out to presumably deal with Maggie in whatever way he so chose. Victoria was out of her element here -- she hoped that she'd get used to this sort of thing soon. Every day was going to be a new crisis until she did.

Remi wasn't all that surprised by the doctor's reaction to events. If he told the truth, he should be able to avoid giving his official statement from seclusion, assuming the doctor was fair. This far, Remi hadn't seen anything to suggest otherwise, despite what the rumours about the man might say. If he was as cartoonishly evil as some of the other kids here said, he'd be at broadmoor, not in a place like this working with kids who needed help. Disney villains just didn't get jobs working with vulnerable children, not as far as Remi was concerned anyway. It was probably best he remained clueless about exactly who was running this place.

"Well, sir," he began, glancing to the other boy, then to the doctor. "I was looking for an empty room for part of a workout." he continued, figuring he'd be best telling it from the very start. "While I was walking down the corridor, I heard a scream from in here. When I came in, I saw him," he nodded to Wayne, "pushing Maggie up against a table. He was obviously hurting her, I thought, based on what I could see and hear, that he was about to rape her. I know fighting is against the rules here, but I wasn't going to let him hurt her. I intervened, shortly before the arrival of Ms Larkin and yourself." His side told, he glanced over to the other boy again, then back to the doctor. The cameras would back him up, so would Maggie, but it was going to be interesting to hear what Wayne was going to say about things.

Whatever happened now though, the important thing was that Maggie was safe, and the attempted rapist was caught. "I took care not to injure him at all, I only acted in defence of Maggie and Myself." he continued, keeping his gaze on the doctor. Every bit was the truth, he knew it, Wayne knew it, and Maggie knew it. Hopefully, his assumptions about the fairness of the administrative staff were going to ring true and this would never happen again. He'd probably have to watch his back for a while though, but that didn't bother him much at all. Brief thought he fight was, it made him rather confident he'd win round two as well.