Chapter Text
"My children are not being given the title of Project, Jane."
Carrie was barely 3 and already a handpicked Project.
"You really think you have a say in this, don't you, Maree."
"I'm their mother."
"That's never stopped this institute before. How much did my father have to pay for you? Oh, that's right, your mother handed you over without a cent of recompense."
She can feel electricity in her veins, the tears that prick at the edge of her vision begging to be used against this abominable woman.
Richie is only 7, 7 is too young. 7 is far too young (She doesn't think of the toddler girl Bright found all those years ago. Bright the bloodhound couldn't hide her from Jane, from Elias. What chance does she have?)
•-•-•-•-•
Richie is her oldest. Her fire starter. When he was 7 years old they were at a charity luncheon at the Renstalt Rose Garden and he set a topiary 20 feet away ablaze just by frowning at it. Her perfect opposite, who had her face and her eyes and hair. Nothing could be more perfect in her mind.
Carrie is her spitting image. The only thing ruining the illusion being that she had her father's eyes. She was so smart. Precocious really. She always looked to the future, that was her gift. She knew what would happen - sometimes moments, sometimes years - before anyone else did. When Carrie was a toddler, no more than 3, the little girl had looked her in the eye and said "Daddy's going to win the election." Two days later, Ludvig won in a landslide victory against the incumbent Representative Bates.
Her little Chris, her fragile baby. Who had no power of his own. She didn't know whether to hope he was a late bloomer or completely normal. Both were dangerous. If he was normal, Candlewood had no use for him, which was good indeed, but conversely, if he was normal he couldn’t protect himself from the danger seeking his family. If he was a late bloomer then he'd naturally be in Candlewood's sights, and the late development of his power would only intrigue them more. Maree doesn't know if she'd affected water since birth, all she knows is that she could by the time she was 13. Chris is a full year older than that.
Rusty was the youngest and the one who looked the least like her, that's why she gave him her maiden name as his middle name. So that she would have some ownership over him. If not in his hair or his eyes or the slope of his nose, then in his name. She can still remember him as nothing more than an infant, crying for a story, his tears turning to ice as he wailed. She hadn't needed to claim him by name, the universe sought fit to make sure he would always be tied to her, for all of time, they gave him her power.