Chapter Text
I tilted my head back against the bookshelf behind me. The sun cast a golden glow across my legs from the window on the other side of the store, as I sat on the carpeted floor.
The sun was a lot warmer now that it was summer.
School was getting out soon. Yay for me.
But that made me have to be around my father a lot more. So this little corner bookstore was going to have to become my second home.
I didn't like being home. It didn't feel like the home everyone else at school described.
The home they described was safe and happy. They looked forward to going to it.
I felt the opposite.
I didn't feel safe, nor happy. So an escape was nice.
That escape was this store.
I could browse through books as I blasted music in my ears, pushing away all my thoughts and feelings like they were nothing.
I liked to read, because writing down words felt easier than speaking about how I felt. My feelings could bleed through the ink of my pen and transform into words on the paper. Literature, I tell you.
Recently, though, my little coping mechanisms - or whatever you call them - weren't fully working.
Thoughts would still slip through.
My mother. I was only three.
Lily Beck. I was thirteen.
Two people, and two absences.
People who were… no longer in my life.
Sometimes, they were all I could think about.
I groaned and rubbed my fingers on my eyes until my vision grew blurry. I hated thinking about them. It made my chest feel heavy, and like the world might crash in on me.
I pinched my wrist and forced my attention elsewhere. My chest was starting to feel tighter. I needed a distraction.
And boom, just like that, an older woman walked into the store.
I snapped into a trance-like state as I studied her, almost subconsciously putting her into little boxes.
She was sixty-two. I was sure of it.
That was the number that popped into my mind, and it felt right.
As she walked to the front desk to speak with the employee, I immediately noticed that her right shoulder was slightly higher. She also had a small tan line across her ring finger, which told me there must have been a wedding ring there for decades.
On her left shoulder, she had a large bag. There was purple glitter scattered across her cardigan. A few wrinkles on her forehead.
She was a grandmother of at least two grandchildren.
The conclusion arrived before I could stop it.
I couldn't make out the words she spoke, but I could easily read her expressions from here.
Her smile was small, but genuine. Crow's feet.
She was more than likely your average nice old lady next door.
I snapped out of my trance when I heard the bell ring above the door.
My head turned to see who walked in, and I was slightly shocked to see a man in his late twenties, early thirties walk in. He wore a casual suit and pants outfit, his hands shoved into his pockets. His dark hair was combed over; not perfect, but not completely messy.
His suit jacket had tiny creases in the elbows. He must have worn it often.
By the way he stood and just his overall vibe, it made it feel like he wasn't here to buy books.
His gaze swept across the store. He was assessing, not browsing.
His eyes were sharp, and eventually, they landed on me. He had found what he was looking for.
I gulped as he nodded and took a few heavy steps toward me.
"I assume you're Elizabeth Nelson?" He asked once he reached me.
Wow, not even a hello? He must want to get down to business.
I just barely narrowed my eyes. "Yes, I'm Ellie. Just that, though."
He nodded. "Tanner Briggs."
He held a hand out and smiled politely.
His smile had reached his mouth, but not his eyes. It's not like it wasn't genuine, but he was guarding something.
Not exactly lying, of course, just hiding.
People did that all the time. Even me.
I took his hand and stood up.
Before I could ask any questions, he continued. "You're probably confused why I'm here."
"I mean, yeah. A random middle-aged man walked into a bookstore and just approached me. A serious looking buisness man." I looked him up and down with narrowed eyes.
He scoffed. "I'm not that old."
I raised an eyebrow.
He waved his hand. "Alright, whatever. I'm here because, well, I'm on an FBI-issued mission."
Briggs' mouth perked up a bit when he saw whatever dumbfounded expression I must have exhibited.
"I- FBI? Seriously?" I questioned.
"Yes, I go by Agent Briggs."
"Uh-huh, right." I crossed my arms. "And I truly believe that some random business-looking man is an FBI agent."
Briggs sighed and pinched his nose. He wasn't frustrated or annoyed. No, he seemed like a man who'd had a conversation like this before.
"You don't believe me?" He looked back up at me.
What he presented to me was very believable. I just didn't fully trust him. "What gave it away?"
He shook his head and reached his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a leather badge and showed it to me.
I stared at it. My eyes searched the whole thing.
It was definitely legit.
"I thought you would have believed me, you know, with your ability and all." He flipped the badge closed and placed it back in his pocket.
I tilted my head in curiosity. "Ability?"
"Ah, yes, my whole point in coming here." Briggs placed his hands back in his pockets and stood up straighter. Whatever he was about to say must be important.
"Aw, you didn't want to have a fun chat with me?" I smirked.
He sighed and decided to ignore me. "I'm the head of the Naturals program. We gather up teenagers who exhibit… special abilities."
"So… I'm special?"
"I… in a sense, I guess. But the point is, these teenagers have abilities that can aid the FBI. They have abilities that agents work years to achieve - and they just come naturally to adolescents like you."
I nodded, giving him the sign to keep going. I was genuinely interested.
Though he didn't continue. He just nodded to the front desk.
"The woman who walked in earlier. What can you tell me about her?"
Ah, the grandmother.
"I mean… she was obviously older," I answered the obvious.
"Specifics."
I stared at Briggs. "Fine. She was definitely a grandmother. A wife to someone for many decades, maybe a widow."
Briggs nodded slowly. "Why? How do you know?"
I didn't expect that.
"Well," I stared over at the front desk, digging back up all the observations I had made of her. "She had a tan line on her ring finger. Left hand - which is the hand you put an engagement ring on. She also had glitter scattered across her cardigan; she seemed to wear it often. She was very comfortable talking to the employee."
When I looked back over at him, I could just barely see his mouth twitch. Satisfied.
His eyebrow raised slightly. "Anything else?"
I glared at him. "You're testing me."
His posture got slightly more comfortable. "Correct."
"And why is that, Agent?"
He cleared his throat. "I wanted to see if the reports were correct. To see if the system did indeed flag you for a reason."
"So… did I pass?" I placed a hand on my hip.
"I'll have to find out." Briggs leaned on his right leg.
I tilted my head to the side and waved a finger. "Uh-uh, you just lied."
He raised an eyebrow. "Did I?"
I scoffed dramatically. "You just tested me again, didn't you?"
"Correct, Ms. Nelson." I could see the smallest hint of a smile reach his lips.
I crossed my arms and stared at him.
"What?"
"Did I pass? Yes or no?"
I could see Briggs' expression gain some of its seriousness back. He took his hand out of his pocket and pointed at me. "Tell me something, Ellie. Have you always done this? Profile people or places subconsciously. Spot lies if you pay close enough attention. Remember things other people would just forget. Crawl into people's heads?"
I drew back slightly. Only one person in my life had ever noticed this… part of me.
My father.
I cleared my throat. "I guess you could say I have, Agent."
He nodded and placed his hand back in his pocket. "That's what I'm looking for. A past that's different from others can shape how a Natural thinks and acts. They develop their skills at an earlier age, and don't realize how different they are from other people."
Yikes. I inhaled a quick breath. I knew my past was different. Most children hadn't been at the scene of a crime at the ripe age of thirteen, and had to deal with an abusive father right after.
I started to feel my chest get tighter. My last day with Lily Beck…at her house…my father had brought me over for a play date…
No, don't go there.
"So, I am special," I smirked, concealing the fact that Briggs had hit a nerve.
"Don't let it get to your head."
I raised a hand to my heart. "Ouch."
Brigg's shook his head. "Ellie, there are other teenagers like you."
I straightened up. Other teenagers?
"I- What?"
"They're not exactly like you," he clarified. "But they also spot things you don't. Ellie, you know how I said you had abilities?"
I nodded.
"They do too. They have their own abilities. Meanwhile, you have a mix of abilities."
People like me…
I subconsciously bit my fingernail.
"How many?"
"Five. Five other Naturals."
I looked down at the carpet.
These people might be able to understand me. Nobody else has.
"So, is that why you're here?" I looked back up at him.
He nodded, looking me over quickly before continuing. "I already spoke with your father. He said the program could be good for you. He said you should be able to use these abilities to help with cases."
"So… FBI cases? You want me to use these… abilities to solve cases?" I filled in the blanks Brigg's had been avoiding.
"Cold cases. Unsolved crimes. Killers."
I felt Lily Beck slowly creep up in my mind, and I had to push the thought deep, deep down.
I stared at him. "You want a bunch of teenagers solving crimes?"
"You'd be surprised what these teens notice."
Fair.
"We've already gathered all of your stuff."
"I- Wait - What?"
"Yes, your father packed all of it up a few hours ago."
That was weird.
My controlling, abusive father had packed my things.
I just chalked it up to him wanting to send me away.
"You've already collected my things?" I formulated an actual question this time.
Briggs raised his hand. "If you'd like to actually come to the program, of course."
I leaned back on my heels. "I am quite interested in this program."
Briggs smiled. "Amazing. We'll be heading to Quantico, Virginia."
"Ah, three hours and forty-five minutes in a car with an FBI agent."
Briggs raised an eyebrow smugly. "See? One of your abilities in action."
I waved him off. "So, when will we be leaving?"
Virginia.
Quantico.
Teenagers like me. People who can understand me.
A chance to breathe, many miles away from home.
Far away from my father.
Tomorrow, I'll be in a new home.
I can finally get away from everything. My past. My father.
Surprisingly, this was one of the easiest decisions of my life.
"I'm in."