Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Formerly

When Darlene's powers manifest, WWII is at their doorstep. There's a trepidation in the air and while the country had been watching Europe with a weathered eye, it still takes everyone else by surprise when the announcement of war comes. Darlene herself is from a decent family, they're not rich, but they're not poor either. Mama still has her health, and while Papa has to sit more often than not, it doesn't mean that they won't endure, won't persevere. But then Darlene, who really wanted that blue dress on the window sill of Macy's, is stubbornly looking at her own hand-me-down brown dress and wishing for it so desperately. In a blink, her dress is no longer too long, a bit worn at the sleeves, or even a ruddy brown. It's that soft periwinkle blue, with that same soft finish that was highlighted by the display lights. With buttons like little pearls and embroidery that must have taken ages, Darlene's hands are moving all over the dress. It feels new, looks new, it possibly is new.

Then her mother calls her name from the kitchen and the illusion breaks abruptly, as if she's been slapped. For days, she wonders what that was, if it was only wishful thinking that had created that illusion, or if it was her.

In the days following, she'll try it on smaller things. A small smooth pebble can turn into one of her mother's favorite buttons. The dull fork in their kitchen drawer she can make gleam and glisten into fancy silverware she's seen in the pictures. Her small toy doll she can turn it to look like Lucy's own new one, with the ruby red slippers and the cheeks that have a perpetual blush.

In her mind, she was putting a little cover on everything, like how mama wrapped up the bread when not all of it was eaten. Just covering it up just to make something look new again, like painting over a house or a picture. She didn't know how long they would take, so one day she made the pebble into the button and left it in her room all day, didn't even think about it when she was cobbling the other kids at hopscotch. When she came back, breathless and dirty, she frowned when she saw that it was a pebble again.

No matter, next time she'd keep thinking about it. And so she practiced, again and again, longer and longer, until she could keep up the pebble cover for a good day and a half, even if she wasn't looking at it, and she only kept half a mind on it.

Mama caught her changing the rock to the button. It had just taken shape in her hand when her mother sucked in a frightful breath, rushing over to her. She's never seen her mother so scared, looking at her like the world might swallow her up.

"Don't you do it in front of anyone, y'hear?" Mama had whispered harshly, taking Darlene's little hands into her own.

"I haven't- I won't I promise." Then Darlene started crying because this type of unadulterated fear was something no child should have to see on their parent's face.

"They'll do bad things to you baby. Bad, bad things. They'll take you away and we'll never see you again." Mama was crying too, her hands shaking. Darlene doesn't know how her mama knew things, but she accepted it without protest. Like most things, parents seemed to always have an abundance of knowledge, whether it be trivial or pertinent. It's not for years yet, where Darlene will look back at this moment, and wonder how in the world her mother knew that someone would take her away. Why didn't she say more? Why didn't her mother warn her?

But Darlene wouldn't cover anything again, not for a good long while.

-x-

When World War II comes, her life is thrown into turmoil. Suddenly her papa has to go overseas, it doesn't matter that his leg wasn't as strong as it used to be after the accident at the factory. Any man can be used in war, so they took him too.

Mama started to take extra shifts as a switchboard operator, going later and later into the night. It often left Darlene to her own devices, and even though she never did again make the pebble into a button, she kept it in her pocket all the same. Then mama started to get sick and working more and more did nothing to alleviate the illness. Darlene was twelve, but she was determined.

She started to collect old things, things people wouldn't care for or remember, and she would cover them. She'd cover them and she'd concentrate so hard, until sweat started to bead at her forehead, hoping beyond hope that these covers would take, maybe take enough to become permanent. Then she would go around town, a bit farther than mama would ever be comfortable with, and she'd sell these bric-a-brac, covered so effortlessly and so seamlessly. Some of the adults looked at her suspiciously, a devious look in their eye.

"Where'd you steal this, then?" An elderly gentleman asked. But he didn't frame it like an accusation, only with the same nonchalance often used for asking where did mama get her dress or her shoes.

His shop was filled to the brim with other such things, old or new, used or worn down, he had it all. She'd seen other kids, sometimes with things closer to trash, come in and leave with a penny. She wasn't stupid, it was likely he took the things, gave them the penny, only to throw them away again. That's why she knew it was safe to come in here, at least then he'd look at her wares without too much suspicion.

"I didn't steal it." And she didn't, everything she picked was trash, things people purposely tossed aside. So at least she had that working for her conscience.

"Hm." But he didn't look too hard at the silverware in his hands, just gave her the money.

For days she'd keep the image of these objects in her mind, the silver pocket watch, the silverware, the nice fountain pen, and even a few doilies she made from scraps of cloth. She kept them up as much as she could, kept them fresh in her mind for days and days.

Until mama collapsed in the kitchen and her mind went blank with panic. She lost the memory of how the fountain pen felt in her hands, how heavy it was when she wrote with it. The delicate lace of the doilies became harsh in her memory, back to the dirty fabric she used.

Darlene didn't care, not for a good long while, not when she was using the money she got to buy mama medicine. But she knew if she went back to those places with new things, she might be tossed aside, and they'd wonder where in the world she managed to get a pocket watch that was nothing but a cheap piece of metal.

Mama started to get better, started to sit up, and eat more food. She always had a small smile for Darlene, even when she started to cough her lungs out, even when her handkerchief became spotted with blood. Darlene would flit back and forth from their small kitchen to the bedroom, keeping her mama comfortable. Mrs. Meroni next door, who had three sons in the war and a husband who had died in the first one, would sometimes come over to sit with mama while Darlene would go out and fetch more food with what little money they had.

Mrs. Meroni, whose hands were always moving to keep busy, would look at Darlene and pat her cheek.

"Your mama is getting better, don't you worry." She'd reassure. But they couldn't ignore the way her lungs sounded. For all the money they had, they couldn't afford a doctor, and they didn't know how long she would last.

Then papa's letters stopped coming.

The sound her mama made when they received the telegram was something Darlene didn't want to remember, but it was seared in her mind. Mrs. Meroni, who had yet to receive a telegram but knew it was inevitable, only held her mama while she cried, hoarse from coughing, and weak from grief.

It wasn't long before mama passed too.

Presently

For the past few years she had been jumping all around Europe, identification at the ready and a small smile on her face. Most waved her through, didn't bother to check too hard. When things started to become automated, it made things both easier and harder. Sure, she wasn't a leading expert on technology, but she knew her way around a computer, could typically blunder her way through them until she found what she needed. Her needs, of course, differed on the day. One day she might need to see what the new designs looked like on a German passport and on another she might need to recount how many curls Queen Elizabeth had on a twenty pound note. 

She's graduated from turning pebbles into buttons and can now shift an entire car within the space of a breath. Not that she would do that, something that big would only bring attention to herself, but she could do it. Her feet were always on the move, migrating from place to place, each country with a new face or body structure, a new accent or skin tone. There were times where she wouldn't be Darcy for days if not weeks, instead she'd be Dominic or Millie or Lotte. When she felt it was safe enough to be Darcy, it was always with blacked out curtains and an area that had at least three possible escape routes.

Then one day Cecil contacted her through the old channels, telling her they needed another one to get out, a Watcher that was too powerful for her own good. Darcy had her own reservations, knew that being in the same room as a Watcher that good was just asking for a quick death, but she also knew they only called her in dire circumstances.

So she packed her things and left Buenos Aires, the pebble secured in her pocket.

She knew Division would cum in their pants if they knew she was so close to HQ. Darlene Lewis, Division's pride and joy, and their biggest disappointment.
Cecil's base of operations was in the middle of nowhere Utah, which was good for the other Specials hoping for some solitude, but it was always a pain to get to him. But Darcy had the trail committed to memory, to turn left at the creek and to keep going straight until the bushes turned grey.

The cabin was far stronger than it looked and small hints gave away that it was still well taken care of. As Darcy grew closer, she could hear the shouting coming from inside. Cecil must have sniffed her approach because he opened the door before she even made it past the gate. He was getting on in age, every single wrinkle on his forehead like a collection of tally marks, each one indicating a year Darcy didn't show. It must have given him a start, seeing her, by the way his back stiffened and his mouth pursed. It's been twenty years, give or take.

The Watcher, one spitfire known as Cassie Holmes, looked at her with intense loathing once she made it inside, not that she blamed her.

"I said not her!" Cassie snapped.

Cecil gave Darcy a briefly apologetic look before shrugging at Cassie. "You said you had to get to Hong Kong, this was the only way I knew how."

Darcy waited patiently, knowing there was nothing she could say or do that could truly convince Cassie short of shooting herself in the head. She had a feeling that even if she did, Cassie would only look at her body in derision.

She knew of Miss Holmes, she had been on Division's radar ever since she had her first vision at five years old. There were plenty of other Watchers on Division's radar, but Cassie was in the top ten of the watch list before she had even hit puberty.

It took a few more long stifled sighs from Cecil and a few pointed looks at Darcy before Cassie made an aggrieved noise, one only a pre-teen could make, and rolled her eyes. "Whatever, let's get this over with."

Cecil and Darcy brainstormed on a few routes they could use to get Cassie to China, but most of Cecil's suggestions fell flat and Darcy didn't want to risk using any means that might have worked previously. She knew about repetition, how it would just make it easier for Division to find them. Eventually they come up with a game plan, Darcy would get Cassie on a boat to Hong Kong, get her some documentation that will hold for a week, some money, and she'd be on her merry way.

Cassie gave Darcy an acidic look when she was handed a fake passport. An actual passport, mind, not one that was shifted.

"I thought the old man called you because you could do better than some fake papers." The young Watcher waved the passport about, as if it were nothing more than a prop.

"That will hold longer than anything a Shifter can make. Even I know that. And you're going to need it if someone starts asking questions you don't have the answers to." Darcy explained patiently. Cassie isn't the first one to look at Darcy with disbelief, especially not when the name Darlene Lewis was still spoken softly with fear and awe.

The pre-teen didn't say anything, just scoffed lightly. She flipped open the passport, looking at her with even more skepticism (if that were possible) when she pointed at the photo.

"I look nothing like this." A turquoise nail pointed at the photo of a young brunette with a small smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose. And she was right, Cassie Holmes was a natural blonde with streaks of magenta, blue, and hot pink and piercing blue eyes.

Darcy blinked, "Now you do."

The change was instantaneous, all of her features immediately shoved away under a veil. When it came to hair it was much simpler to keep it the same length as the original, so she didn't bother to shorten Cassie's already long strands. It was much less wispy than her blonde, the hair straight and falling softly at mid-back. Her skin had a healthy looking tan, which did the job of also highlighting the freckles on her face.

Cassie paused, looking at her curiously as her hands went slack. There was obvious doubt in her eyes, which Darcy expected, but the lack of disgust was a nice change of pace, regardless of how brief it was. Then Cassie raced to the bathroom, eager to see what Darcy had done.

Cecil came up to her side, hands in his pockets.

"I wouldn't've called if-"

"I know, Cee." Darcy reassured.

"I mean, I know it's Hong Kong and I know how you feel about it, but she's an insistent little thing." Cecil knew what had become of Hong Kong, just as much as Darcy did. The defunct Chinese Division branch had been relegated to a Triad, led by the Pop family. The details were always fuzzy about how it happened, but Darcy's money was on that Division HQ grew too greedy, had taken the Pop matriarch because of her renowned ability to Stitch. Then the Pop family retaliated in the only way they knew how.

Darcy closed her eyes in thought, "I'm not gonna get on the boat with her."

She didn't need to be a Watcher to know Cecil was looking at her in shock.

"What- but how-"

"Cassie is a smart girl. She doesn't need me to hold her hand, she just needs to get there." Putting yourself in a Watcher's clutches, no matter how young or small they were, was just asking for trouble and Darcy had gotten good at avoiding it.

When Cassie came back from the bathroom, her now hazelnut eyes were brimming with doubt, insecurity, and the slightest glimmer of hope.

Darcy's plan is simple. Get Cassie to the boat that will take her to Hong Kong, give her $1,000 US dollars which was give or take HK$ 7755 Hong Kong dollars, and the direct number to Hook Waters. He was her protegee before she went AWOL on Division. Unlike her though, when he tried to retire with a "by-your-leave", they took out his wife. Numerous times she had told him that if he wanted to move on from this life, he had to cut and run, don't even bother with the any kind of formal process, that would just be a farce. Division did not let go of their own.

She knew about the fallout that occurred with her departure, and that was some ten odd years ago. Maybe Hook was just trying to circumvent that same fallout. Maybe if he had shifted with less precision, was mediocre instead of immaculate, it could have worked. But he was one of the best, second only to her, and Division did not take his leaving with good grace.

Now he lived in Hong Kong, shifting his way through life so that he could bury himself in women and alcohol. Division was willing to leave him alone, but the moment he so much as stepped a toe back in the waters, they'd tear him apart.

The boat is a freighter in Florida, captained by a Shadow who would take on anyone for the right price. It's a good day's drive from Utah to Florida and the white Chevy that Darcy lifted becomes a blue Toyota when they hit Missouri.

"Memorize this number then destroy it. Only call it if you're absolutely screwed." Darcy handed Cassie the small slip of paper with a hastily scrawled number on it. The girl is curious, it's obvious by the way her eyes light up at the sight of it, but Darcy is willing to give her more credit when Cassie doesn't bother.
"His name is Hook Waters." Judging by the way Cassie's eyes squint, she's heard of him.

"He's on the other side now." Darcy informed her.

"Like you?" Cassie isn't truly derisive, but she has a hard time of hiding the venom in her voice.

Darcy's smile is imperfect and self-deprecating, "No. Not like me."

For some odd reason, with Cassie's new features, her curiosity only highlighted how young she really was. The actual-fax-Cassie had old eyes, ones that had seen too much and had tried to look away only to be scarred. Now she watched everything and everyone with a paranoia that left her hurting.

"I don't like looking into your future." Cassie said bluntly. It takes Darcy aback, how blase her admission is, as if she were commenting on something trivial, like the color of her shirt or the weather.

The former-Division agent wants to question her, but she knows what happens when you question Watchers. Been there, done that, had a dozen scars to prove it. She needn't have worried however because Cassie went on.

"It's too fucking confusing," the girl snorted, "and I know how that sounds, coming from a Watcher. But your future is like, so focused on the past. Other people, normal people, they have so many different threads that lead to so many different choices and decisions. I can follow a person's thread if I really wanted to, the headache isn't worth it, but I could. I could pull at that thread for days and months and years. But you? I tried to follow one of your threads once, and you know where it got me?" Cassie looked to her then, expecting an answer.

Suddenly Darcy is terrified, her skin gone cold. "Where?"

Cassie's expression is grave. "Nowhere. It's one of the reasons why I didn't want you."

What's unsaid are the other reasons Cassie holds over Darcy's head. That she was a murderer, a liar, a con-artist, a Shifter with unparalleled abilities, and ex-Division. Any one of those things would typically spell death for a Special in this world, but for Darlene Lewis they were burnt on her skin like a brand, no matter how many times she changed her face.

They don't talk for the rest of the drive, which is a blessing, because no one needs a thirteen-year-old looking them in the eye telling them their future went nowhere. Said thirteen-year-old has a sketch book on her lap, its black blank pages inviting and supple. Darcy's hands tighten briefly on the steering wheel, thinking on Cassie's words. What she won't tell her, what she intends on taking to her grave, is something so abhorrent to a Watcher and it'd only lower Cassie's estimations of her.

Ten years ago, when she had walked away from Division, she had found one of the best Wipers and had gotten her memories wiped. There are now gaping holes in her memory, stretching on decades, in her mind. She can think of a handful of reasons why she did so, the number one reason being that the actual Watchers in Division could track her through specific threads that were hinged on the past. But now with those gone, they had to stretch themselves thinner to grasp at something. Which only indicated Cassie's own skill, that she'd been able to pick at a thread Darcy had tried so hard to burn out.

She also knew that it was her own damn fault she got wiped. That it was a decision she had made beforehand, and not some lucky punks getting a one-up on her. When she had woken up, in a motel room in Helsinki, the pebble was a button in her hand. Enough to tell her that prior to the wipe she was awake and coherent enough to do so. The button was perfect, meaning it was her who did the shift, and it was just as cool as her mama's.

Of course, Darcy hadn't thought on what wiping would do to her future. Or if the wipe was even the root cause of Darcy's indecisive future, but whatever the case was, it left her with a cold feeling in her stomach.

Cassie's drawing took shape, a brown ambiguous blob that looked vaguely familiar.

"Is that a chicken leg?" Darcy asked.

"Yup," Cassie popped the "p".

-x-

When they finally get to Florida, Darcy parked the silver Nissan and shook Cassie awake. The girl is upright in seconds, wiping at her eyes and looking at her surroundings carefully.

"We're here." Darcy announced, getting out of the car.

Cassie gets out too, stretching her back and legs, rotating her torso side to side to get the feeling back. When she met Darcy at the front of the car she did a double take. Darcy is no longer Darcy, her features are more of a Hispanic descent and her eyes a pale green.

"I..." Cassie doesn't move to get closer, but she scuffed a foot on the ground. To be frank Darcy doesn't know what to offer here, she's never been good at consoling and kids had always given her the heebie-jeebies. But it seemed disingenuous to call Cassie Holmes a kid, like she was any run of the mill thirteen-year-old. At most, she wanted someone to tell her she'd be fine, that she could do this. At worst, she needed someone to lie to her, which Darcy could do.

"You'll be fine, Cassie." Darcy kept her arms crossed in order to restrain herself from touching the Watcher. A simple pat on the shoulder would send the wrong message to her.

"You don't know that." Cassie groused.

"I don't. But you do." It's that surety in her voice, that tilt in her head, that finally gets Cassie to release the tension in her shoulders.

"Yeah." Then the pre-teen shifts the bag strap on her shoulder, and with a hasty wave she's making her way to the freighter. Darcy had already transferred the money to the Shadow, it was just a matter of Cassie walking up to one of the crew.

It was just so simple, wasn't it? A car ride to a boat ride. If it were any other Special trying to transport Cassie here, they'd be screwed. Division Sniffs on American soil had the advantage of home turf, they could detect new scents from states away. She had done a meticulous job of destroying anything with her scent or touch before she had been wiped, and now she was just as paranoid as Cassie, never touching anything for longer than a second.

Division Watchers, well, they were another story. No Watcher ever willingly goes into Division, they're caught. Darcy is not proud to admit at least three Watchers are in Division because of her, and of those three only one of them is currently still alive. They're kept in secluded rooms with padded walls, high on enough drugs that they have to be spoon fed. The only Watcher that's lasted the longest was Cassie's mother Elizabeth, who still had the uncanny ability to maintain eye contact while swimming up to her gills in morphine.

She didn't often risk coming back, not for every call Cecil might make. This day, though, was special. When she was still in Division, when she was more automaton than human, she had been approached by a young Elizabeth Holmes, who was a waif much like Cassie, and had blonde hair that was a touch darker.

"When they scream purple, run." Elizabeth had said. Darcy's instincts screamed at her, but something else kept her from shifting her go-to weapon into her hand.

"What- what are you-"

"When they scream purple, that's your chance to run." Elizabeth's hands were cold and stiff, clutching at Darcy's own forearm until it started to bruise. Her eyes, much like Cassie's, too old for her years, looked deep into her own. A brief scuffle from behind her had Darcy's eyes briefly look away, then a Porter, an honest to God Porter, had appeared then teleported Elizabeth away.

For years it haunted Darcy, the girl whose fingers left bruises and a stare so unnerving it burned into her mind. Then one day, her and a team were trying to pick up a couple of Bleeders for Division. They had chased them down to a market place in India, full to the brim with people but enough were disinterested for them to keep up the pursuit. Darcy was the fastest, she was always the fastest, practically within an arm's reach of a girl when one of the Bleeders screeches hard, the sound of it piercing and enough to cause several stands to collapse. It had brought Darcy to her knees, hands to her ears with pain erupting all over her head. One of the stands had been a vegetable stand, and several of the purple yams had burst at the sound, staining both her and the kid.

A Mover on her team waved a hand at the kid Bleeder, and it sent him flying into a building. Said building, unfortunately, shook at the impact, already unsteady from the sonic screeching. The words, screaming purple and the urge for her to run, come back to her.

With her torso stained purple and knowing that her team couldn't see her, she ducked down, running towards the building right as it collapsed.

Chapter Text

Formerly

When mama died, Mrs. Meroni did her best to take care of her. Always looking out for her, keeping her fed and watered every day. Darlene is in a bit of a haze for a while, her eyes can never focus on one thing for long and her hand constantly fidgeted with the pebble. Her fixation with it never made much sense to her guardian, but she forgave the girl for her proclivities, especially while she was still grieving.

Mama didn't have any siblings, and any relatives she might have had were dead and buried. Same with Papa, who had come from nothing and had hoped to begin again in another part of the country. There was no one who wanted little Darlene Lewis, save for Mrs. Meroni. A few months passed in this fashion, where Darlene would go to school, learn a few things that seemed inconsequential to her, only to go back to Mrs. Meroni's apartment.

This new place wasn't home, despite it being only a few steps away from her old one. She knew that eventually, her new caregiver might tire of her. After all, they were both just using each other. Mrs. Meroni had already received a telegram which left her listless for hours, to the point where Darcy made dinner for the two of them. The next day she was back to her normal self, if a bit more reticent. She was more liable to talk about her sons too, how they were all so strong and so brave, how they knew they had to do what their daddy did. To go out and fight a war that needed to be fought.

A lonely old woman and a lonely little girl.

One day, in a fit of grief, Darlene covered the pebble into a button. It was her mother's favorite shade of turquoise, smoother than anything she'd ever felt and shinier than any store front windows. Her small fingers toyed with it endlessly, looking at it with doleful eyes. Her mama had always held off on putting it on a gown, saying that the dress would have to be perfect and match just right. Now she would never get that chance.

Darlene and her parents had no photos, it wasn't anything mama or papa thought was immediately important, and there always the thought that they would get photos soon, why the rush. Now that they're dead, it irks her so much for a couple of reasons. Mrs. Meroni has photos of her children and husband, either in photo albums or in picture frames, and they're cherished beyond belief. Darlene can't begrudge her new guardian her slight obsession with them, especially when she's constantly wiping at the glass covers or handling them with delicate hands.

But grief does things to people, it makes them ache and moan with a pain that can't be remedied.

Mrs. Meroni had a picture of her sons, Ed, Carlo, and Tony, where they're up against a wall, looking disinterested and their eyes looking directly into the camera. It's one of the smaller ones she owned, the picture no bigger than both of her little hands.

Darlene's fingers smudged the glass immediately, peering at the picture, analyzing the Meroni boys and what made each of them different. Ed is the oldest, with a full head of hair and a grim line for a mouth. Tony is the middle child and the only one whose shirt is untucked. Carlo, the youngest, has the beginnings of a smile on his face, before the picture was snapped, his face a frozen image of uncertainty.

Before her eyes Ed disappeared, the only thing left is the wall he was leaning on. Next Carlo became taller while Tony became shorter, the youngest adopting her father's looks and Tony grew long hair.

In a matter of moments Darlene was holding a picture of her parents, both of them smiling, their faces joyous as they were leaning against a wall. They were younger, the lines that were apparent on mama's face from working too hard not apparent. The picture couldn't capture papa's limp, which was for the better, because the memory of papa always pausing to catch his breath still made Darlene cry.

"What are you doing?!" Mrs. Meroni screeched.

Darlene jumped, her fingers smudging the glass even more before the older woman snatched the picture frame from her. For all of her surprise, Darlene still wasn't quick enough, didn't dissipate the cover she had put on the photo, and Mrs. Meroni looked at it in horror.

"What did you do?!" When Darlene didn't immediately reply, the woman grabbed her upper arm and shook. "What did you do?! Fix it! Fix it right this instant!"

Darlene did, and when she did, Mrs. Meroni retreated back to her room, shaken and holding the picture frame to her chest.

-x-

Mama's warning, of bad people coming to do bad things to her if they knew what she could do, pinged back and forth in her mind, and Darlene knew it was better for everyone involved if she had just left. Quite possibly she could survive on covering alone, get things to make them look like money, buy enough to get her comfortable and then keep on going with her life. The decision was solidified when Mrs. Meroni couldn't look her in the eye the next morning, and she only made Darlene a quick breakfast before leaving for work.

The young girl didn't blame her. She couldn't, not at all. Darlene wasn't Mrs. Meroni's daughter, there was nothing that obligated her to like the girl, especially not when Darlene could do things that were inexplicable. So Darlene took what she could, mostly things that had already belonged to her, packed them in a bag and left.

She picked up a few things along the the way, some scraps of metal that she could turn into coins, and even slips of paper she could turn into dollars. She was never too daring though, she didn't change her appearance or cover her dress any differently than before, didn't make her shoes shine or her hair glossy. No, she was smarter than that, so she kept to her dark hair in permanent pig tails, a look that could pass off for a girl her age, and kept on walking.

The nights were the hardest because she didn't know where to go or who to trust. So she made a few dollars and only went to questionable motels that willingly took the money from twelve year olds. She had tried over and over again to change her face, to make her eyebrows thinner, her eyes a bit bluer, make her cheeks more grown and mature. But nothing ever stuck and she'd just end up with a headache for her troubles.

She saw Luca three weeks after she left Mrs. Meroni. He was a lanky one, more knees than boy, and he had a tendency to cock his head to the side as if he were measuring you up in some way, and ultimately found you lacking. He fascinated her. From the brown strands of his hair in the light, to the way the light seemed to curve and bend around his cheeks. There was no true way to define what it was she found so enthralling about him. Maybe it was because she had never seen someone be so unapologetic about who they were. After all, she knew a thing or two about constantly having to be something you weren't, and it was exhausting.

Luca was often in front of the same corner store every morning, waving about newspapers and each headline was more dire than the last. His voice was what caught her attention, the way it seemed to grab hold of you almost immediately, kept your attention until you felt compelled to listen to everything he had to say.

She watched him for a few more days, the way he haggled with the other boys and kept his head down when the police would walk by. At the end of his shift, one day, she followed him, kept a few paces behind him and watched as he turned around to face her.

"You're that girl ain't you? The one that's always under the lamp post?" He doesn't look surprised at her following him, so Darlene held in a breath.

"Yeah." He took in her appearance. Everything about her seemed decent, not starving, but definitely not the best, especially not when parents seemed to be dropping like flies.

"You got a place to stay?" He asked. Darlene shook her head. The last motel had kicked her out after she had made too many excuses about where her parents were and why they never seemed to come 'round.

He judged her for a few more minutes, the tell-tale tilt in his head, before he nodded towards the direction he was walking, indicating she could follow. She quickly moved her little legs, keeping pace with him.

"So what's your name?" He peered down at her.

"Darlene." She didn't offer her last name.

"Yeah? Well hey there Darlene, name's Luca."

-x-

She later found out that she wasn't the only one watching. Luca had noticed her too, the pretty little girl with serious eyes. He told her that something about her eyes made him both sad and unnerved.

"My grandpa had the same kind, ya'know? I never knew what he did or nothing, but he had them eyes too." Luca had the gravity of someone far beyond his years, but if the need called for it, his very smile could induce levity. She didn't know anything about him though, not if he had brothers or sisters, or where this grandpa was. What about his life before he started selling newspaper on the corner?

"What about your parents?" Darlene asked. Luca shrugged, and that was as much as she ever got out of him. He was 15 to her 12, and he took care of her, making sure she was fed, had a roof over her head, got the extra blanket in case it was too cold at night. He had a place, a bit rundown and more of a halfway house filled with some other fellas, but they were all good people who didn't look twice at the stray that Luca brought in.

He seemed to know that she was just as lonely as he was, and that was enough. Then, of course, Darlene had wanted to help pull her own weight. She wanted to contribute, maybe give a few dollars, just enough that no one would truly suspect. She had grabbed bits of old newspaper, from the ones that Luca or the other boys hadn't managed to sell, and made two dollars from it.

Luca was furious.

"Where'd you get these?" The dollars easily crumbled in his fist, as they should, Darlene had worked hard on making them just right. But now watching them being mistreated made a sour note rise in her stomach.

"What's it matter? I got 'em, right? We can get food now and Bobby can rest his leg, he wouldn't need to work tomorrow!" Darlene had bit back, almost snarling like a cornered dog.

"That don't make this right Dee-Dee, you don't steal, we don't steal."

"I didn't steal it!" She screamed back.

It's too much, she's never had to defend herself so ardently before. And then, without warning, the cover slipped. She felt it lose shape in her mind before she witnessed the cover melt away and then Luca is only holding pieces of old newspaper. He doesn't realize what's wrong, not at first, but suddenly Darlene is deathly silent, looking at his fist with mortification. That alone prompted him to look.

The moment he saw the old bits of newspaper she knew what it meant. That she would have to leave again, start making more and more money, maybe go to a new state. Tears welled up in her eyes and she doesn't know what to say or do, not when Luca is still carefully picking at the worn paper in his hand. When a small whimper escaped her does Luca finally look up, his obvious confusion morphing to concern.

"Hey, Dee-Dee don't cry." Then he pulled her close, his arms holding her to his chest. She couldn't form words, she didn't know up or down, only knew that the comfort she felt in that moment was something she hadn't experienced in so long. It was almost foreign, this kind of warmth that wrapped around her body and held her just to comfort her. 

"P-please don't make me go." She hiccuped. "I only wanted to h-help."

"Now who said anythin' about makin' you go, huh?" Then he wiped away at her tears, that same calm and serene state of his easily comforting her. He wasn't angry, or at least he didn't show it, from what Darlene could tell.

"But I-I changed the paper."

"So? That just means you're different. Doesn't mean you're going anywhere." But it's obvious she's unconvinced, as if he's suddenly going to change his mind in the span of a few seconds. His face scrunched up briefly in deliberation, looking at her own tear stained cheeks before looking back down at the pieces of paper in his hand.

"I'm about to show you somethin' okay? Somethin' not everyone knows about me either." It's took a moment for the words to process through Darlene's ears before she nodded, interest obvious in her eyes.

His crooked smile showed clearly on his face before he looked down intently at his palm. The two pieces of ripped up newspaper were crumpled innocuously, before one of them slowly started to drift up and then the other one followed. Pretty soon they were both suspended in mid-air, nothing touching them or keeping them up as they slowly started to rise. Darlene felt her jaw drop and her eyes widen, this was something she'd only heard of in stories, of people being able to move things without touching them.

Finally, the two pieces of paper drifted back down, landing softly on Luca's outstretched palm.

"See? You ain't got nothin' to-" his breath escaped him when Darlene lunged forward to give him a hug, her tiny arms doing their best to wrap around his entire body.

Luca didn't say anything after, only held her to him just as tightly.

-x-

They're careful, real careful with how they cover things or move things. It became apparent that Luca wasn't as skilled as Darlene was when it came to his own powers. Oh sure, he can lift a few pounds up a few flight of stairs maybe, but then the strain became too much and he'd have to sit down for a bit. Darlene had no such trouble when it came to her own covers. At this rate, if the object she was covering was going to stay on her for the whole day if not more, then it'd stay exactly as she wanted. Luca had been blown away, marveling at the way the button felt in his hand after she had made it to that turquoise color. 

"Huh," Luca's brow furrowed.

"What?"

He held up the button to the sun, "The light doesn't go through the holes."

It was true, they didn't. While the button had four holes in the middle made for sewing, when held just so in the light, the shadow reflected didn't have four equally small holes on the ground.

"Of course it doesn't dummy. I'm just changing how it looks, not changing how it is." It made sense in her head, how just because something looked different didn't mean it was completely different.

Luca seemed inclined to agree because he nodded his head in agreement a few moments later. "Yeah, okay."

After all, it may look like a button and feel like a button, but it was still a dumb rock.

Unfortunately, they're not completely careful. Darlene was back at the house, practicing how to change more bits of paper into dollars when Luca blew the back door wide open, panting and wild-eyed.

"Hey! You know that door doesn't work right every time you do that." Darlene reprimanded. She's never had to scold anyone before until she had met Luca.

"We gotta go Dee-Dee." He said hurriedly, grabbing her hand. She looked at him in astonishment, only now realizing the harsh scuff marks on his shoes and the way his hair looked more disheveled than usual.

"What's goin' on? Luca, what happened?" She fired back.

"No time, we gotta go." And then they're moving through alley ways, in the side streets and ducking behind cars. They don't draw much attention, after all they're just a couple of kids, and in this part of the neighborhood there were kids wandering around all the time.

"Luca," she hissed, "I don't like this. You tell me what's going on right now." She tugged fervently at the hand he had yet to let go of, bringing him to a sharp halt. Finally he turned back toward her, his eyes still wild and a bit unfocused in his panic. Luca was in a frenzied state, one she had never seen before. He was typically calm and people were immediately drawn to that aspect of him. But this? This was new and it was frightening her.

He looked up in case anyone was around them, then hustled her over to an alley. When he deemed them secluded enough he leaned in close, enough for her to count each of his eyelashes, and he spoke softly.

"I moved somethin'," he choked up a bit and cleared his throat, "somethin' I shouldn't've but I did because I knew if I didn't this old lady would've been killed. There was this car, and it was just driving so fast 'round the corner and before I knew it, it was jumpin' the curve and it would've hit her."

Darlene's mind worked quickly, deciphering what else it was that Luca wasn't telling her. He had moved the car to save a woman's life, but at what cost?

"Who saw?" Darlene whispered back.

"Too many." Luca closed his eyes with a grimace. "And there was this man."

"A man?"

"Yeah, he was just- I don't know what it was about him Dee-Dee but I didn't like it. So I hightailed it out of there and I know, okay? I know what I did was stupid. Especially after the whole talk we had, about how we needed to be more careful and everything, but I couldn't let that lady die, not when I could do something about it."

Then he looked at her, with a pleading look in his eyes, begging her to understand that what he did was necessary. It was good. That saving a life, no matter the fact that it might have risked his, or hers, was worth it. Of course, in that moment Darlene wanted to do nothing else but rage at him, punch him in the shoulder, tell him what he did was stupid. Her mama had warned her about this very thing, to never ever let anyone know about what she could do, because then they would do horrible things. Now where were they gonna go?

But something else made her shut her mouth, made her look at the boy who had taken such good care of her for the past few months out of the goodness of his heart. If he hadn't taken her in, where would she be now? Maybe, at this point in time, she could help him instead.

"No," her voice shook briefly but she steadied herself, "what you did was good. Of course you couldn't let her die."

That was all she needed to say, because then he was holding her close, pulling her in and it's this overwhelming surge of comfort and reassurance. Except this time it's not her who needed it, it's Luca.

He seemed to realize, though, that time was of the essence because he released her all too soon. Something grim overcame his face, a determination that made Darlene's skin crawl.

"We need to get out of town while we still can."

-x-

They don't make it. They're not sure what it is that gave them away, but they get caught right before they reached the next town over. Luca had asked her if she had any knowledge on covering faces, but she had explained that after a lengthy trial and error she found that it wasn't something she was capable of. He had shrugged it off but it was obvious that it unnerved him, that he was hoping for anything that could help them.

They're thinking of hopping on a train, making a few dollars would be easy, when they're grabbed and stuffed into a van. Luca doesn't eve have the ability to even move them aside, or kick the van with enough force to make it crash, before four men are upon them, shoving a needle in Luca's throat and covering her mouth before she can scream. Luca collapsed easily under the drug's assistance, and for a split second Darlene feared that they had killed him. She kicked with more earnest, but rough hands grab onto her harder, leaving bruises on her pale skin, before they're hustled into a van.

Presently

Darcy is inherently glad that Cassie couldn't look into her past, never mind her future, because she's sure that their meeting would have been so much worse if the young Watcher had known Darcy was the one who brought in the great Elizabeth Holmes. Unlike her other acquisitions, like Pushers who made her weep and scratch at her own face or Movers who threw her off buildings, Elizabeth's was uncomplicated.

Elizabeth Holmes was at the top of every Division watch list, no matter the branch and no matter the country. It didn't help that her husband, Jacob Holmes, was a Porter, one of the only ones Division even knew existed.

So imagine her surprise when Elizabeth had come in willingly. When it happened, she was still Darlene and not yet Darcy, and hunting a Phaser, so close to catching the first one Division has ever had, and Elizabeth had found her first. The Watcher knew what she was doing, that putting herself in Darlene's path would guarantee that they would stop chasing the Phaser, but it wasn't just that.

Elizabeth still looked waif-like, but now she had the grace of a Queen. Everything she did had purpose, the way she turned her head or flexed her fingers, and Darlene wasn't ashamed to say she couldn't look away. She had a simple request, if they stopped hunting her husband she'd go with the Division agent quietly.

The Shifter knew how this would play out, down to the letter. Division wouldn't hesitate, when it was a choice between a Porter and a Watcher they'd take the clairvoyant, especially if it meant having the most powerful one they've ever seen. But Darlene wasn't stupid, she knew that there was a reason Elizabeth wanted them to lay off Jacob, but knew she wouldn't get an answer out of the young woman.

Division had sent three Bleeders, two Movers, a Shadow and Agent Henry Carver when Darlene had made the call. To this day she can still recall the way Carver had looked at her, a mixture of respect and disgust.

There was no love lost between Carver and Darlene. He loathed her because she had the respect he so wanted and the reputation to back it up. While Darlene couldn't stand the sight of him, a Special who willingly joined Division, who was so eager to lock up their own kind. They handled Elizabeth like a porcelain doll, after Darlene had given her a tranquilizer that would have put down a small elephant. 

"How did you do it?" Carver had accused.

Darlene had only given him an enigmatic smile that left him seething.

From there it was just another tick that got underneath Carver's skin, the fact that the resident Shifter was able to do something no one else in Division had been able to do, no matter how hard they tried. She never told anyone, not even her superiors how she had done it, only that an opportunity was presented to her and she took it.

For years after Darlene made any information on Jacob Holmes sparse and incomplete. All too soon, the interest in him died out too, before it was determined that he had died somewhere in Turkey some years later. It was the same year Cassie Holmes made it on the watch list. 

-x-

The first news to come out of China arrived in snippets. Division is religiously chasing after a girl and they're calling her the new Darlene Lewis. It sent chills down Darcy's spine, that there was another Special that had survived the augment drug. While they had both survived, it was odd when Darcy heard that the survivor, a girl named Kira, is a Pusher. Her contacts didn't have much to say in terms of how powerful Kira was, but there was no doubt that the augment drug had amplified it, possibly by ten fold.

For some reason Division Watchers can't get a good hold on Kira, so they had sent the best Sniffs they had, and Agent Carver. That in itself reflected the lengths Division was willing to go to in order to get Kira back.

Darcy hadn't heard from Hook, which could be a good or bad thing. Good, in that Cassie didn't need him and she was handling herself well. Or bad, because Cassie did contact him, but he was too preoccupied to call her back. Whatever the case may be, Darcy had kept her ear to the ground, waiting for someone to give away any hints.

Then it's an explosion of information. The Pop family had the augment drug and were willing to sell it to the highest bidder. Division was closing in on Kira, Cassie, and a Mover that didn't know when to quit (the name Gant made her tilt her head to the side in contemplation). Hook was in fact involved, as was Pinky, and a Sniff by the name of Emily Hu. Darcy knew of Emily, had been thankful that the Sniff was more inclined to sell her talents to civilians than to others who might have wanted a piece of Darcy's head.

And while Darcy was trying to decipher through the mess of info from every channel she's ever made, it just as quickly goes silent. Suddenly no one from China is talking, but there is one last thing that she managed to catch before everything went down.

The Pop family was dead, as was Carver.

-x-

Cecil is a fidgeting mess.

"You should have gone with her." Cecil had been saying that same thing ever since she had walked back to the cabin. She only clenched her coffee mug tighter, looking away from him. Maybe Cecil was right, maybe if she had gone with Cassie, things would have gone better. They wouldn't be sitting in a middling place with no information and no idea if Cassie and Hook were dead or alive.

"That doesn't matter anymore." She replied through clenched teeth.

"She was a child." Cecil said softly.

"You think she was the only one?" Darcy snapped back. "You think Cassie was the first child Division ever took? Or the last? Get your head out of your ass Cee. Division takes and takes and they'll keep taking, no matter how old you are, who you are, or what you are."

Cecil sat rigid in his chair, the harsh lines on his face outlined by his disgruntled appearance.

"You could stop this."

Darcy scoffed. "Don't start this again."

It was an old argument, stemming from Darcy's own contempt with Division some years ago and after she had allowed Cecil to slip through her fingers. He had been much younger then, a spry man with clever fingers who never looked twice at Darlene when she had shifted herself to look like an older woman, gray in her hair. He had tried to take her purse, but it was a small matter of pushing him up against a wall, a good kick here, a harder punch there, and then he was groveling at her feet.

"Please, I'll do anything." He had begged.

Sniffs couldn't do much in terms of an offense. Their power was just the ability to know. Darlene had looked at him, curious, before realizing that maybe this was her chance to help. After all, Cecil was the first Sniff she had ever been sent to capture, and no one would look twice if one Sniff out of the hundreds was just deemed KIA. So she had hatched a plan. Every time Division had assigned her to another mission, be it a Watcher, a Mover, a Bleeder, she'd be sure to give a sample of that Special's DNA to Cecil first. Then it'd be a matter of getting Cecil to find them first before she did, Division at her back.

As of right now, no one else was aware of the contribution Darcy had put in to saving as many as she could. They only knew of Cecil, one of the more powerful Sniffs out there, who would save them days if not hours before Division would appear.

"I've known you for twenty years," Cecil continued, as if he hadn't heard her. "And you didn't give a shit when Division rode you hard all your life. They didn't break you, mind, but you sure as shit did not leave. Then one day Elizabeth Holmes gives you an out and you take it. Now you can repay her, Darcy. You can repay her good and well by helping her daughter."

"Her daughter might be dead." Darcy pointed out.

"Then you best find out."

-x-

Darcy had every intention of finding Cassie, but like most Watchers, it's Cassie who found her first, or at least by way of a missive that came from Jonah Massey.

Jonah was a Stitch, and a mighty good one at that. Back when she was still Division, he was one of the top ten on the watch list, but when he continued to be extremely evasive, they had gone straight for the Pop matriarch.

When Darcy had left Division, after getting into one too many fire fights with their agents about getting her back, it was Cecil who had taken Darcy towards Jonah. Of course, the Stitch didn't work for free, but it was never money he wanted. Jonah worked for favors, and he had an odd way of calling them in. Last she heard, he had a few favors working for him from several top agencies. Out of all the Specials, Stitches were the ones that could possibly make a decent living, hiding under the radar enough to be inconspicuous as doctors or medicine men or women. Then again, being a Phaser or Porter would certainly help, but they couldn't use their powers without extreme censure.

But in terms of favors, he had three he could call on Darcy at any given time, which was actually pretty generous of him considering how often she had gotten hurt over the past few years.

"I'm sure you've heard about China." Is the first thing Jonah says when he walks right into Cecil's cabin. He looked the same from when she had last seen him some three years ago. Same dark hair that looked like he ran a few fingers through, same pale skin, and the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow on his jaw. He even still wore black in the god awful heat. He held himself like a man who had walked the world over in search of something, but hadn't quite figured out what it was he wanted. It was extremely likely with someone like Jonah Massey.

Cecil had probably sniffed him when he had gotten onto the path, but something in Darcy twitched at his sudden appearance. She looked to Cecil in exasperation, but he only gave her a wane grin. Maybe he was getting senile in his old age.

"Losing your touch there, Lewis?" Jonah smirked, his eyes taking in her appearance. She was sure she looked the same to him, as was often the case whenever she met up again with people who've known her. Cecil wasn't the first one to blink hard at how she hadn't aged, and he probably wouldn't be the last.

"What are you doing here Massey?" Darcy questioned instead. 

That sobered him right up, the smirk dropping from his face. "Miss Holmes sent me."

Cecil stood at the news. "She's alright? She's alive?" The Sniff asked.

"Yes, and doing quite well. Although I've never met a bossier ten-year-old." Massey made his way to the kitchen, bypassing both of them.

"She's thirteen." Darcy corrected before she could think about it.

"Didn't think you'd care." Jonah looked over his shoulder, giving her a discerning look.

Darcy schooled her features into something more stoic, but she knew she was caught. Even Cecil looked at her approvingly, which made her gut turn. It wasn't as if she didn't care about the punk, but it just didn't surprise her if Division had gotten her while she was holding the augment drug hostage. Messing with Division never ended well, especially for Specials. They had enough Pushers that could make most Presidents forfeit nuclear codes in a heartbeat. But Division wanted real power, true oversight over people and the ability to control all, and as far as they were concerned real power wasn't holding an entire world at gunpoint. 

In the meanwhile Jonah had made himself comfortable in Cecil's kitchen, which wasn't a surprise. Everywhere he went Jonah was a vacuum for food, and it wasn't as if Cecil ever had low stores in the cabin. He had the beginnings of a nice sandwich when he finally looked Darcy in the eye.

"She said that the debacle in China should keep Division preoccupied for another few weeks. Now, and I'm quoting her here, she says it's time for you to get off your ass, because it's your turn."

The words make Darcy freeze. He can't be serious, Cassie can't be serious. They don't have the man power or the information to go after Division as a whole. Sure, maybe China may have destabilized them for the mean time, but that doesn't mean they can just topple it overnight. 

"Oh don't look so shocked, it might give you wrinkles." Jonah mocked, his eyes teasing. Darcy couldn't understand how he could be so flippant about this, not with what Cassie was suggesting.

"About damn time." Cecil murmured to her right. Darcy turned to him in surprise.

"You cannot be serious. All of you cannot be serious. You do realize what she's asking for, right?" Darcy tried to get them to understand.

"The overthrowing of a corrupt agency that's been kidnapping, exploiting, and killing special powered human beings for years?" Jonah raised a sardonic brow. He didn't even falter when Darcy threw him a withering glare, only bit into his sandwich.

"That's not when I meant and you know it." Her fists clenched at her sides, the nails biting into her skin, then Cecil put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"We know, Darcy." He said softly.

She shook off his hand, "No, I don't think you do. Division is more powerful than any of you can imagine. They're not just gonna stop working because they lost what small influence they might have had in China. They still have Pushers, Movers, Bleeders, and a couple Sniffs there too. What's more, they'll expect something like this, a few Specials going in gun-ho. And yes," she shot Jonah a sharp look, "I know what they do to Specials. I've been there Massey, I was there longer than you've been alive. Don't you fucking forget that." 

"True," Jonah conceded, "but then there's one thing they won't be expecting."

That piques her interest. "What?"

"You, Darcy girl." Cecil said quietly. "They won't be expecting you."

Chapter Text

Formerly

It soon became obvious that Darlene was the favorite. There were about fifteen children there total, the oldest one at seventeen and the youngest at ten. Darlene was the second youngest at twelve, and she was easily the most gifted. The adults there numbered easily in the twenties, and they were constantly moving the children around. Luca and Darlene barely had any time for each other, instead they were forced to room with the other children, separated by gender.

There were eight girls and seven boys, each of them from different parts of the city. The other girls didn't like Darlene and would glare at her if she got too close. They knew she was the favorite too, it was apparent by the lack of bruises on her skin. The oldest girl, Margaret, was the only one who willingly spoke to her.

Margaret, or Marge as she introduced herself, could move things with her mind, just like Luca, but she was much better than him. Darlene had only caught her doing it once, she had separated two of the boys when there was a large tussle outside during recess. They were sent flying apart, and it was only a matter of time before the other adults came in, dragging them apart even further and taking them away.

"Why'd you do that?" Darlene had asked her softly right before bedtime.

"If they fight, it'll only make things worse for them. They keep you in isolation rooms if you're bad, and the kids never come back the same after that." Marge had whispered back.

By her estimation Margaret had been there the longest, followed closely by Sofie, and then Bernard. Sofie wore gloves at all times and she would never speak to Darlene, only glare at her and keep her distance. Bernard always had a smug look on his face, like he knew something you didn't.

Marge told her his screams could make people bleed, which froze Darlene's little heart. He was one of the kids that spent too much time in isolation, which was why he had tiny scars all over his face from scratching at his own skin.

The facility was well guarded, with men in uniform circling the perimeter every so often like clockwork. The scientists, because that's what they were, always took a few children at a time to conduct experiments.

Darlene learned everything she knew from Marge, who whispered things to her right before she slept and answered every question Darlene threw her way.

"They like you because you're the first one who can do, well that." The older girl doesn't have to elaborate, Darlene knew exactly what she meant. When they had initially grabbed her and Luca, their captors didn't know what exactly she could do, if she even could do anything. They prodded at her, they bruised her some more, threatened her when she remained silent. Then they threatened Luca and her mind broke, and she sobbed against her restraints.

With no other choice, she covered a man's gun to look like a fork. It was easy, so very easy, and it was with amazement everyone in the van took to look at the new object in his hand.

There was a large buzz in the facility when she had arrived, Margaret had told her. She was the first one they've captured who could cover things like she did. Although they didn't like the word she used to describe her abilities, covered, and they had opted for another moniker. Shifting.

It was why she didn't get hit as often as the other kids, or shuffled to the isolation room. They wanted to keep her in her prime for as long as they could to get as much information as they could.

Margie told her the other names they've developed. For her and Luca, they were called Movers because they could move things with their minds. Sofie was a Sniff, because all it took for her to know stuff about things and people was to get a delicate whiff from an object. The gloves also protected her from over-stimulation, as she could take in information through her hands too.

There was another girl, one who could repair injuries with just her fingers, they called them Stitches. Most of the boys though? They were Bleeders, like Bernard.

"There's another boy," Margaret looked around to make sure she wasn't overheard, "they keep him separated from the rest of us. I've only ever seen him three times, and I've been here two years. He looks off into space, doesn't really say much, but I've heard him screaming."

"Do they hurt him real bad?" Darlene asked.

But Marge shook her head, "No. It's never them. He'd be the only one in the room and he'd scream and scream like he was being murdered."

Darlene never found out the boy's name, but on her fifth week there, she heard his screams. Heartbreaking things that made her cover her ears and screw her eyes completely shut.

The next morning Margaret had large black circles under her eyes, indicating she had as bad a time at sleeping as Darlene did.

"I know what he's screaming," Margaret said blankly.

Darlene blinked owlishly, "What is it?"

"The future."

-x-

Luca is sporting a black eye the next time Darlene sees him at recess. It's not much of a recess, considering that they're still being monitored by at least ten guards at all times, and it wouldn't take much for a bullet to go through one of their heads.

Margaret went off to the side, picking up a book as she does so. Bernard and a bunch of the other kids take over the meager jungle gym, while Luca goes straight for her.

Her skin, unlike his, remained unblemished. They had yet to hit her, only asked her to cover things, the more elaborate the better. When there was something she couldn't do, she was asked to explain why it was she couldn't do that.

Most of the times it had something to do with the volume of a thing. No, she couldn't make a dime into a tin can. Why? Well the dime was far too small and the tin can was far too big. She could change a brick into a tin can easily enough, but the weight of it never changed.

"How you holdin' up?" Luca asked, licking at his split lip. Darlene watched with something akin to grief welling up inside of her. She doesn't want to tell him that she's constantly terrified, that she doesn't know when their last day will be. Already they've watched as one of the boys, another one that could move things, was taken away. He was too rowdy and didn't settle down after numerous times to stop.

"M'fine." Darcy mumbled. Luca took her small hand in his, squeezing it tight. He knew.

-x-

The girl who can heal with her fingers was returned back to the girl’s room with stitches up and down her arm. It's a grotesque sight and all of the other girls either turn away or stare in morbid fascination. Darlene threw up at her first glimpse of it, and it's the first time she's hit.

One of the orderlies grabbed her by the arm, and made her grab a rag and a bucket of water to clean up her mess. When she moved too slow, she was struck across the back.

"Quickly now." He said gruffly. Darlene could already feel a bruise forming, her back smarting at the impact, but she didn't complain, only cleaned up her lunch that was now in a wet pile on the floor.

The Stitch, Katherine, she didn't move from her bed. Margaret went up to her first, sitting next to her, pushing her hair out of her face and whispering to her softly. The other girls kept away, but they watched Darlene with something like satisfaction. Finally the new girl gets hit, maybe then she could get with the program.

"What's wrong with her?" Sofie asked when Margaret walked away so Katherine could rest.

"They wanted her to fix every cut on her arm, but she was too tired and couldn't concentrate. So they patched her up the best they could and sent her back." But there was obvious worry in Margaret's voice. Katherine was as still as death, her skin horrifically pale and she had yet to move an inch after talking with Marge.

She was pronounced dead the next morning. Darlene knew because one of the girls started to weep quietly when Margaret tried to shake Katherine awake. The adults, the scientists, the orderlies, the guards, they didn't care. They just took her body away and then the girls were sent down for breakfast.

-x-

When they hit a roadblock in Darlene's powers the scientists started to get frustrated. She didn't know any of their names, only that they stood prim and proper and never touched her unless they absolutely had to. There were two men, one with salt and pepper hair and the other with a brown mustache.

"Now Darlene," Salt and Pepper tried to go for consoling, "it'd be best if you just tried as hard as you can."

"I am trying," she said through gritted teeth. There were electrodes on her forehead, measuring things she didn't know. Tears started to grow on her eyes, her pounding headache coming in full force.

It had started when they had asked her to change her appearance, anything about her. From her nose or her eyes, maybe her hair? Anything at all. She had shot them down quickly enough, had told them in no small manner that any time she had tried to change her appearance before had resulted in nothing short of disaster and a rather large headache.

Salt 'n Pepper and Mustache looked at each other then, a deciding look in their eyes. Darlene didn't like it at all. That's when they had brought out the machine, a weird looking thing that was supposedly meant to measure things going on in her head. The thought of it scared her but she kept quiet, only looking down as they placed the nodes on her scalp and forehead.

Then it was hours upon hours of questions, demands, "Make your hair blonde Darlene," "Your eyes, make them green, how about brown?" But nothing worked. Just as she said. When she had snapped at them, she was given a sharp smack to the cheek as a warning.

Said cheek was now red and smarting painfully but she remained quiet, even though they demanded more and more. When none of that helped, and her head ached painfully and her tears were no longer kept at bay, they let her go.

Margaret gave a sympathetic hiss at the sight of her cheek, and had taken a cold cloth to it to help it go down some.

"I hate it here." Darlene whimpered through her tears.

"I know." Marge hushed, running a hand through her hair.

The next time she sees Luca, it's after several more sessions with Salt 'n Pepper and Mustache. She had a cut on her other cheek, not on the same one they had smacked, and there's a harsh bruise on her chin from when Mustache had shaken her and she had hit the table.

Luca looked murderous, his eyes darting over every new injury on her face.

"I'll kill 'em." He had said solemnly. Luca, her sweet Luca, who was more prone to laughter than to anger, who looked so furious that his fists were clenched so tightly she feared he might break his own fingers.

"No, stop it. Luca, it's okay." She had to whisper softly so he wouldn't hear how hoarse her throat had gotten from screaming.

"Don't kill 'em. It's not worth it. What would happen if you tried? Have you thought of that? It'd just be me and no one else. I don't want to be alone Luca, please don't leave me alone." She was babbling now, and soon her pleas turned incoherent. Luca shushed her quietly, taking her in his arms.

He never spoke of killing anyone again, but it was obvious that whenever a fierce frown overtook his face that he thought of it, often and intensely.

-x-

The facility nearly goes still when Dr. Ross arrived. Nurses straightened their caps, doctor's their lapels, and each and every child was sternly warned that if they so much as stepped a toe out of line, it was a week in the isolation room.

Dr. Ross was a friendly looking man, which made him all the more dangerous. He corners of his mouth were constantly ticked up, as if he was smiling, and everything his eyes touched was amusing. Darlene didn't like the look of him, and neither did any of the other kids.

Marge turned pale immediately at the sight of him and immediately kept her head down and never met his eyes. Darlene, the perceptive one, followed suite, and only looked up when she was sure he wasn't looking at her. He inspected each and every child, whether they were new or old. Staff at hand kept their postures straight and were quick to answer any question he had. Darlene hoped and prayed he would bypass he. Unfortunately, she found that she was the reason for his visit.

The orderlies had taken her aside and pushed her to the library, a meager hall that only had about two or three shelves of books. The good kids were given an hour a day, or more if they were especially obedient. Darlene had yet to actually earn so much as a minute there.

Dr. Ross entered the moment she had sat delicately on a chair next to a window. His eyes looked dead, but he still had that oddly small smile on his face. It terrified her.

"You must be Darlene. I've heard so much about you." He started, slowly walking towards her, his stride even and smooth. It almost looked unnatural to Darlene's anxious mind, so she only nodded dumbly.

"Everyone here has spoken highly of your talent." With equally smooth movements he pulled the chair opposite her and sat, never taking his eyes off of her all the while.

She remained rebelliously silent, both out of fear and in an attempt to remain obtuse. No matter who this man thought he was, he wasn't going to break her.

"Well," he twined his fingers together and placed them on the table, "there are a few things I'd like to get to know about you, Ms. Lewis."

Again, she didn't answer, but she felt her head tilt in confusion.

"For example, how did someone so young end up on the streets? And with a boy no less." There was something in his voice she didn't like, something presumptuous that made her bristle.

"Did your parents find out about what you can do? Is that it? You wouldn't be the first, you know. There are many here who've been abandoned by their families simply because they were different." But that wasn't the case for her, not at all. Mama still loved her deeply after watching her make the button, and as far as she knew Mama would still be here with her if she hadn't died.

"That's it, isn't it?" He leaned closer to her, watching her expression morph from curious to outraged.

"No." She replied mutinously, her vow of silence broken.

"Ah."

He continued to get a rise out of her, asking her questions about her past life, about what her mother was like, her father. Who was Luca? How did he meet her? Oddly enough they were never questions about her powers and mostly questions about her past. She didn't answer them, not willingly anyway. Sometimes he would say mean things about mama that would make her grip the edge of her seat so tightly she was sure there'd be a dent afterwards.

When the sun set and Dr. Ross grew weary instead of interested, did he finally let her go with a wave of his hand.

Marge cornered her first, took her aside as the other girls watched her curiously. None of them had been there as long as Marge had, and didn't know what the big deal was about Dr. Ross, but if the eldest girl said to avoid him at all costs, then they were wise enough to do so.

"Are you alright? He didn't hurt you did he?" Marge questioned, looking her over for any obvious injuries.

"No, Marge, m'fine." Darlene felt so tired, her eyes dropping. The interrogation had taken up the entire afternoon.

Margaret made a contemplative noise in the back of her throat but let Darlene sleep. There was still worry in Margaret’s eyes, even when it was obvious that Dr. Ross hadn't touched Darcy. But the good doctor didn't need to touch anyone to hurt them, not from what Marge remembered.

-x-

It kept up for a few more days, of Dr. Ross paying special attention to her and Darlene suffering under it. Marge continued to worry in the background, but she never offered an explanation and Darlene never bothered to ask. Luca being Luca worried incessantly, his eyes always categorizing all of her features for any new injury, but none ever came. Dr. Ross was polite, cordial even, with a deep voice and measured words.

That didn't make Darlene any less afraid of him. The entire ordeal didn't settle her nerves any either. With every session she had with him, every day for about three hours, she felt herself winding tighter and tighter.

Her salvation came in the form of Luca, as it always did.

"I got a plan." For once his face wasn't marred, no skin bruised or broken. There was a feverish look in his eyes as he looked at her desperately.

"What plan?" She whispered back quietly.

"Tonight. They're doing something for Dr. Ross. I think I heard 'em say that they're going to keep the orderlies away for a bit because he wants to hold a dinner or somthin'. That's our chance Dee-Dee."

Darlene was on board immediately. (later, she'll curse herself for being so stupid. So naive)

That night, when everyone was asleep and there weren't as many footsteps outside their door, Darlene snuck out. She couldn't make herself disappear, not exactly, but if she kept herself firmly against the wall she might as well have been a ghost.

She reached the boy's dormitory pretty easily (which should have been the first sign) and then found Luca hunched against the stairs. He grabbed her hand silently, urging them quickly but quietly to the floor below them.

Down more stairs and then a straight shot through the kitchen and they'd be free. No more tests, no more experiments, no more five laps around the yard, or sessions with Dr. Ross. This was their chance.

Then Luca stiffened, tensing hard against the wall as he pushed Darlene up against it.

"There's someone there." Luca whispered, nodding towards the kitchen.

Darlene felt a knot of trepidation take root in her stomach. Maybe this was a stupid plan after all, who knew what they would do to either of them if they caught them now. The orderlies might just make them disappear too, just like all the other unruly children.

Luca placed a finger against his lips, an indication she stay silent, as he moved quickly towards the man in the kitchen. Smoke was wafting up to the ceiling from his burning cigarette. There were more sounds coming from the dining hall, some laughter and the tinkling of silverware.

The man was fixated on a book in front of him, his cigarette dangling from his lips. Luca looked around, trying to spot anything that could render him unconscious. Finally he saw a stack of newly washed dishes on the drying rack, and all it took was a good silent thump from a pot that Luca levitated and the man collapsed onto the floor. Luca dropped the pot as quietly as he could, then grabbed Darlene's hand.

"Hurry, they might have heard-"

"Well, what do we have here?"

Both children turned in fear, anxiety etched onto their faces. Dr. Ross had walked into the kitchen, with two men behind him. All of them were still in suits, probably only walking in just as they saw Luca knock the other man out.

Dr. Ross blinked, a chilling smile on his face. "Get them."

The other two men lunged forward but Luca and Darlene were a good ten feet away, and they sprinted towards the door that led to the back. With a quick wave Luca moved one of the men into the kitchen island, the tile collapsing under the weight. The other man was quicker, more agile, and kept pace with them.

The back door swung open as they ran, their legs carrying them faster than ever before. But Darlene, Darlene (if only she had pushed him, kept him going, he would be fine-) was grabbed from behind, the back of her shirt stretched taut as the other man pulled her back violently.

"Lu-" His name was choked out of her, yet he turned all the same, ready to kill. He froze when he saw the gun her captor had against her head.

"Luca." Dr. Ross said patiently.

"Let her go." The young Mover growled, his fists clenched and looking at the doctor with murder in his eyes.

"Now you know we can't do that. Darlene here is everyone's favorite." Darlene kicked briefly trying to get her captor to release her, but he only held her tighter, his arm pressing against her neck in warning.

"What you're doing is sick! You can't do this, not to her, not to me, not to any of us!" Luca shouted back, daring to take one step closer to Dr. Ross.

The good doctor, however, just tilted his head, as if Luca was nothing more than a pesky little dog barking incessantly at nothing. It unnerved Darlene to her core, but she didn't have much time to deliberate when suddenly Luca threw up a hand, aiming it at Dr. Ross. A gunshot rang through the backyard, as one bullet grazed Luca's arm, after he was able to push it away from him at the last minute.

"You'd be good to stop this at once, Luca." Dr. Ross' voice hadn't lost its quiet intensity, which made the situation all the more unsettling.

The boy didn't respond of course, instead he growled, a low dangerous thing, and without even a hand to indicate his intentions the man who had such a tight grip on Darlene felt his head rotate harshly to the left, breaking his neck. Darlene pushed the now dead body off of her and rushed towards Luca, who took her arm and pushed her behind him.

"Sir!" The other man rushed forward but Dr. Ross held up a hand.

"Well," Dr. Ross started, looking at Luca with renewed interest, "I had always hoped that you would be special Luca."

Then Dr. Ross took the gun from the other orderly, slowly walking towards the pair. Then Darlene watched in horrid fascination when the doctor's pupils started to dilate sickeningly, overcoming the rest of his iris as he walked towards Luca. Darlene looked to her friend, only to find in horror that he wasn't moving, his eyes fixated on Dr. Ross' own.

"Luca?" She whispered, shaking his arm, but nothing happened. He remained standing, not moving, a slack jawed expression now on his face.

"Unfortunately, boy, we just can't have that kind of insubordination here." Then Dr. Ross presented Luca with the gun, who took it with an ease that terrified her. The other orderly then came from behind, taking her away while Darlene kicked and screamed at Luca.

"Luca! Luca snap out of it! Luca! Luca no!" She tried everything, she shifted the gun into a spoon, a daisy, a piece of wood, but it still held easily enough into his hand.

"Now Darlene, enough of that." And then the orderly smacked her harshly behind the head, enough for her to lose concentration.

"You know what to do, Luca." Dr. Ross said softly.

And Darlene watched in dismay, in heart-wrenching sorrow and pain, as Luca raised the gun to his head and-

-x-

"Darlene?" A hand shook her harshly. "Darlene?"

"Hmm?" Darlene said inarticulately.

"What happened to you? You're black and blue everywhere." It was Marge's voice, but she sounded so far away for some reason.

"What're you talkin' 'bout?" Darlene asked, her mouth working sluggishly to keep up with her brain. Slowly she started to open her eyes, finding them extremely heavy. Her body definitely did feel sore, like a giant bruise. Taking note of all of her faculties though she realized she had all ten fingers and toes.

She was in bed, but it was already mid-morning, far later than the nurses would allow them to stay in. But there was no one around to reprimand them, none of the other girls were in the dorm with them, only Margaret sitting on the edge of her bed looking at her worriedly.

"Everyone is saying you and Luca tried to get out of here last night. It's why you look like shit." Marge whispered, her hair tickling the sides of Darlene's face.

But Darlene squinted at her, her brain processing the words before finally asking.

"Who's Luca?"

Presently

Something Darcy didn't discuss with many people was that when the Division Branch in China had failed, when the Pop family had taken over, it unleashed a tidal wave of unease in every Division Branch in the world.

You see, Specials were often taken and forced into Division, that much was true. What was also acknowledged but mostly spoken of with censure, were the mass of Specials that willingly went into Division in hopes of being spared. Carver was one, and despite his eagerness to be acknowledged by the agency, he was just as scared as any other Special on Division's scope.

There were others, of course, who joined because they were absolutely terrified. They knew that if they didn't join their families would be in danger, their future would be rife with problems, and they would rather succumb to death than to be experimented on.

Then someone in Division fucked up. Stitches were difficult to spot, right off the bat. They could hide in modern society without much fear of danger or unease, not when they could heal at a simple touch, build up their credibility in their profession, or hide in a community that would protect someone that could heal. Skilled Stitches were especially difficult to get a hold on. Someone high up in the Division hierarchy didn't play their cards right, or were too high on their own power, because whoever decided to take Li Jing Pop fucked up real hard.

Suddenly every Special under Division's purview started to become restless and afraid. No one was sure if they would be next to be taken, to be experimented on. Division, after having realized their massive fuck-up, also realized it was far too late to make amends or to bother with reassurances.

Darcy had watched from the outside as some of her own contacts still within Division fled, going to farther and further parts. The other ones who remained were killed or pushed beyond measure. There was a massive overhaul of staff and Specials, and Darcy could only imagine what they had to do in order to recruit all the new Specials to replace the old ones.

Which made this all the better, especially with Division now having to scramble after the debacle that just happened.

"Cassie said there's someone we have to pick up." Cecil informed Darcy a few days after Jonah had explained what the Watcher's plans were.

Darcy was still adamant on not attacking Division, insisting that none of them were ready, but did anyone listen to her? Of course not.

It's the Pusher that killed Carver. She had the plane land somewhere in South America and had been traveling north. Cassie didn't have a fixed spot on where she was, but the Watcher had sent Cecil a bead that would help with finding her.

Jonah raised an eyebrow at a Push being on the team, after all most Pushers were less eager to go head first into a fight and more willingly to be on the side lines. Darcy was inclined to agree, after all Carver didn't go anywhere unless he had a retinue of Movers, but Cecil remained firm.

-x-

Kira made it to the Texas-Mexico border but she's on the other side of the fence, in the city of Piedra Negras. Darcy doesn't bother with even contemplating, she knows she's the only one who can get to her. So far Kira is biding her time, fully aware that she could just push her way through the border but she also knows that Division would have her head on a platter if she shows up on American soil.

Cecil and Jonah were going to stay in Texas while Darcy went to fetch their girl. Cecil, the worrywart, rung his hands over and over, looking at Darcy in trepidation while his feet remained glued to the carpet. Jonah, of course, had less reservations.

"You ever gonna tell us your secret?" Jonah asked. Her secret being that any Pusher that has tried to push her usually end up getting punched in the face. Oh sure, the push might stick for a minute or two, but the augment drug had increased a lot of things, including her tolerance for bullshit.

Her smile was wane, "If I did I'd have to kill you."

The walk across the border was easy. This time she used a shifted passport, with a bland smile at the border patrol. They let her through easy enough and she moved seamlessly with the rest of the border crossers.

Cecil had said Kira was staying with a woman she had pushed, had made the woman believe Kira was her youngest niece. It would be a topaz colored house with a green roof and a red windowsill, easy to spot.

While Darcy had to act with some urgency, she also made sure to dally. She had no idea how many other people Kira had pushed to watch the place and after all, paranoia was what kept Specials alive for so long.

The house was at the end of a street, as Cecil had said, and looked welcoming with the setting sun in the overcast.

It was made easier by Kira sitting on the porch, her eyes looking far and away. She looked good, for having just escaped Division and killing another man. Her knuckles were bruised and she looked deathly pale, even from where Darcy was standing. The Shifter knew what the augment drug did, it made you burn inside and it would twist and twist until it settled. She didn't know how long the drug had been in Kira before she had made her escape, but it was obvious that it wasn't very long.

"I can see that the weather here doesn't agree with you." Kira's eyes dilate just the slightest when they meet hers, but Darcy is sure to keep an affable smile on her face. Darcy doesn't look like Darcy, she looks like a petite unassuming Latina.

For a moment, Kira rapidly searched her face, but when seeing nothing Kira smiled back.

"I suppose I'm just not used to it yet." But Darcy isn't a fool, she saw the way Kira's hands had tightened into fists and it would only take a moment for the young woman to dart away.

"How long have you been here? If anything you should probably stay inside." Darcy doesn't move a single inch, but it's the way Kira straightened that knows she has her attention.

"Are you here for something?" Kira asked, going straight to the point.

"You can say that," Darcy inhaled, it was now or never, "Cassie sent me."

Kira, thank God, doesn't so much as blink. "Not Nick?"

"Oh Nick too, I'm sure. But y'know it's really Cassie calling the shots." Darcy said, blasé.

This time, Kira huffed, rolling her eyes and looking away. To be honest Darcy is rather surprised that Kira hadn't just shot her in the head yet. Then again, she doesn't know just how powerful this Pusher is now, it's quite possible she's not the first person to approach her, and Kira had merely just sent them away with a look.

"Of course she is." The Pusher muttered, then looked back at Darcy once more.

"And who are you?" Kira asked.

Darcy didn't hesitate. "A friend."

Kira looked largely unimpressed. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Look, it's either you trust me or you don't. I mean, you can always just push me to kill myself. I hear that works well for you." Darcy said blandly.

This time, Kira's once stiff back seemed to relax just a tad, as if yes, she could do just that if she truly wanted to.

"Alright." Then Kira proceeded to stand up, not looking back at the house.

"Anything you need to get?" Darcy asked.

"Nothing important." Kira replied.

With a shrug Darcy turned back towards the border, Kira at her back. Darcy knew that Kira didn't trust her, and was only following her long enough unless something presented itself as a threat, namely her.

Darcy dug into her back pocket, producing two passports. Kira took one curiously, but was obviously skeptical about the process, the same kind of derision on her face that Cassie once had.

"I hope you realize I look nothing like this." Of course Darcy knew, and she rolled her eyes, they never failed to tell her.

"Who said you didn't?" Darcy asked, not once turning around to acknowledge her.

Kira, possibly quite accustomed to the oddity of other Specials, only tilted her head, and then she did a double take when she witnessed her reflection on a store window. She looked to the window, lighted by the setting sun, and then back to the passport photo.

"How did you- I thought Shifters could only work on objects?" Kira's eyes couldn't look away from her new features. Now she was a blonde with a short pixie like cut and had bright blue eyes.

"Normally, yeah." Darcy said, but didn't bother to elaborate further.

Kira's eyes narrowed, sussing her up, mentally calculating what it was that Darcy wasn't telling her.

"What's your name?" Kira finally asked.

"Darcy." And then realizing it would probably be best to bite the bullet. "But Division knew me as Darlene Lewis."

Realization quickly dawned on Kira's face, and it was a sharp contrast to the intense distrust that was aimed at her earlier. Her new bright blue eyes looked at Darcy in shock, taking her in before looking back at the passport. Darcy was preparing herself for a confrontation, for Kira to suddenly turn back and avoid her or worse for her to push a simple killing command into her brain.

"You're the one, aren't you? The one that escaped, before me." Kira asked, sucking all the anxiety out of Darcy. The younger woman looked at her, not exactly with wonder, but something that was bordering on curiosity.

"If you count running like hell as escaping then, yeah. That was me." Darcy knew she had taken the coward's way out, had simply escaped instead of trying to fight for her species, but when the opportunity presented itself, she knew it was better than nothing.

"They said there were trying to make me like you." Kira said softly. Her new acquaintance didn't answer her, just continued to move through the crowd in order to cross the border. Her back, though, was tense, certainly more so than their surroundings warranted.

"Do you think they succeeded?" Kira continued, looking at Darcy's retreating back.

This time, the Shifter only shrugged. "Only time will tell."

-x-

The Division HQ was in Washington D.C., secured away under unmarked buildings that had permits and signs saying NO TRESPASSING and NO LOITERING. Innocuous enough to be ignored and imposing enough to be avoided.

Even then, however, D.C. is a large community, with Sniffs sequestered away at every five mile marker in the event of escapees, like Kira. Whatever miracle that occurred that allowed for her to escape, Kira wasn't willing to say, but there was also a chance that she just didn't remember. Cassie had warned that Kira had met a Wipe prior to the events in Hong Kong, and bits and pieces were still blurry in her mind.

Jonah winced under Darcy's glare, "Well why didn't you say that before I went and got her, dumbass?"

But there was more, something Jonah had to say under hushed whispers, ensuring that both Cecil and Darcy were paying attention.

"Elizabeth paid off some guards. I don't know how, but she did." He detailed that on November 5th, the Sniffs that are typically on constant guard will be gone, and they wouldn't be detected.

Cecil whistled lowly while Darcy's mind reeled. This was several years in the making, this wasn't just a young girl getting lucky and finding her way out of Division, this was- when they scream purple, run.

Darcy blinked, but then pushed forward her plan. Cassie, Hook, and their straggler one Nick Gant, were still keeping an extremely low profile. The Watcher hadn't contacted any of them for a while, so the small team that consisted of Darcy, Cecil, Jonah and now Kira, were on their own now.

Sure, there were surely more Specials out in the world who would love to do nothing more than hurt the organization bent on eradicating and experimenting on their kind, but no one knew enough of them who were willing to commit to something that was near suicide.

-x-

Phil Coulson gets a rather unusual phone call at 2:30 AM. Not to say he wasn't already awake at the time, but that the call itself was unusual. It was from a secured line that was supposedly in-house so that didn't arouse any suspicion, but not enough people in SHIELD knew of his private number.

"Hello Agent Coulson." Whoever it was, she sounded like a young girl, with a far huskier voice than an average teenager, as if she smoked a pack a day. That instantly eliminated every person who he had given his private number to.

"Hello." A pause. "May I ask who this is?"

"You may." The girl on the other end of the line was smiling, surely. "But that doesn't mean I'll answer."

Well, he's willing to let this phone call play out. Then the next few minutes were spent with him listening to an elaborate plan that goes way over his head. With words like "Specials" and "Division" being thrown at him but without context. He's not entirely sure what he's meant to do with this information, until she finished it with-

"You might hear some interesting things from D.C. in the next few days. I wouldn't worry about that. It'll blow over soon." It's too flippant for him to just brush aside, so he's sure to keep his ear to the ground for anything involving D.C.

"Right, well, this has all been rather informative." Which it hasn't, not in the slightest. She seemed to pick up on that, because her laugh is bright and mirthful.

"It'll all make sense, given time." Then Coulson can here another voice whispering something urgent, but it's too muffled for him to decipher.

"Sorry to cut our conversation short. And I know, you won't understand any of this right now, but believe me, something big is about to happen. When it happens, let it run its course. Oh and say hello to Darcy for me." Just like that the line goes dead. Coulson blinked once, twice, then slowly closed his eyes altogether. It was entirely possible that whoever that was had managed to hack into a phone line within SHIELD so that he would feel compelled to answer. The questionable thing, however, was how they managed to get his private number.

Questions upon questions without any answers in sight.