It was too quiet.

There was something very unsettling about the fact that there were no whispers resting just beyond the edge of consciousness, no emotions just out of reach threatening to simmer over, and no foreign sensations that brushed teasingly and lingered on the skin. There was nothing, save for silence, emptiness and solitude. It was lonely. It was torture.

Most of all, it was strange to think that this was the way that most normal people lived their lives. It was like they were forever confined to the limitations of their own bodies, their own minds, and they would never be able to experience something outside of themselves. Those poor souls were damned to live an existence of constant aloneness.

A fate too cruel to speak of, a woman thought solemnly, walking unsteadily through the dense trees around her. My fate now too…

It had been a few hours of tripping through the woods. She had lost track of just how long she had been wondering, stray branches clawing at the loose tendrils of her dark hair, mud clinging to her bare feet and staining the fabric of her white nightgown. She had only the sporadic silver rays of the moonlight peeking through the sparse canopy to guide her steps and it was a hazardous journey. She was almost there though. She could feel it.

The woman stumbled unexpectedly over an uplifted root. It was not the first time this had happened, but it was the first time that the ground swiftly approached. She reached out to catch a nearby tree in front of her to stop the sudden descent, but her reaction times were off and she came up inches short. She hit the ground hard instead, feeling not even the slightest twinges of pain, the small tin box she'd been carrying clattering down beside her.

For a moment there was only stillness, though eventually a dazed laugh escaped her at the ridiculousness of it all. She was a grown woman running away from an invisible enemy, trying to get to the one place that had always felt safe and even nature was against her. Her laugh rapidly dissolved into a whimper when it became apparent that there was no one here to pull her back up and set her right again. No one was coming.

Alone… she thought miserably, and even like this it would probably never quite sink in that she too was damned to be on her own. The medications thrumming throughout her bloodstream ensured that. She despised the way the treatments turned everything to fog, the silence surrounding her like a shroud, excluding everything that she had become so reliant on over the past six years.

This was definitely not an indefinite solution. She had determined that after the first night alone, body feeling light as a feather and sight a prism of color, the syringes and stolen medicine abandoned beside her in the decrepit apartment she'd been squatting in. It clouded her mind just enough to make everything disappear, leaving her isolated and suffocated all at once, while leaving her with just enough mental capacity to stay hidden away from everything.

This was no way to live. She was not strong enough to survive this loneliness… not like the others, what few of them remained. She had let them talk her into this, but it had quickly become too much. She could never live this way indefinitely. She had been trying so hard for the past few months, but every second submerged in this numbed state had eroded the resolve that it was worth it bit by bit. The most this disconnectedness gave her was time… time enough to come here. To see them… it had been so long.

She was almost there.

It took some effort, but the woman managed to rise onto her knees, making sure to pick up the small tin as she did. She felt suddenly grateful to find another use for the copious amounts of pain medicine in her system when she discovered that her wrist had been crushed beneath her in the fall. It looked swollen already, perhaps a sprain or maybe even a fracture, but that was only a guess. She hadn't felt anything.

Standing wearily, the world turned over unexpectedly, and she blinked several times to clear her vision, body threatening to fall over again. She breathed out when the wave of dizziness passed. She still felt as though there were butterflies in her stomach even with her equilibrium regained. She resumed her walk resolutely, knowing that time was running out. She imagined she would have to dose again soon.

The others would know what she was planning as soon as her head cleared.

They would try to stop her. As much as she longed for them all, their good intentions would only leave them all more vulnerable for the real enemy. Her presence was placing them all in danger. She could continue to hide and live in this wretchedness or do something worthwhile that would protect them all. She had never been the brave one. She had never been the clever one. She would have come back here sooner if she was, but now was the time to be brave and clever and protect the people she loved.

Eventually the moon retreated and the darkness gave away to the first golden rays of sunlight. She did have to stop at one point to nap against a boulder and again to dose when everything began to clear, but by that point she knew she was only a few more miles away. She let the sun warm her face as the trees began to thin out, uneven mounds of dirt and leaves and roots giving way to the flattened roughness of asphalt and concrete.

It was the first sign of civilization in days. She took a moment to catch her breath, feeling wary and elated at the same time, and then resolutely forced her feet to move down the street. It didn't take long to come across a familiar sight, the old wooden sign depicting a large tree lush with foliage above the bold words. The last time she had seen it had been six years ago, looking over her shoulder regretfully as the car sped away, leaving everything and everyone behind.

Beacon Hills, the sign proclaimed, and never before had two words caused the amount of grief and regret she felt at the moment. She was home. She had dreamed of this, of returning, ever since making the decision to leave. Coming back felt different than she thought it would, no welcome sense of belonging after so long away or relief at being back. She only felt desperation and defeat, knowing this was her only chance.

Reaching out hesitantly, her fingertips extended to brush against the letters carved into the wood as if they might disappear any moment, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall when she felt the solid permanence beneath her skin. Her brown eyes looked beyond the weathered sign, swallowing the thickness lodged in her throat when she noticed some of the taller buildings visible over the treetops.

"You said you would stay in Florida," a sudden voice came from behind her, the quiet accusation cutting through the quietness. "You said you would stay hidden."

The woman felt as though everything was crashing back to the ground at the familiar tones. He came out from behind her, walking around to look at the sign with a disapproving frown, before turning to look at her with that same look. Even with the critical gaze, he was a sight for sore eyes, and her heart leaped for joy at seeing him after so long apart.

It had been months since they last saw each other, but her initial delight faded almost immediately. He was here with her. He was in Beacon Hills, California… when he should have been in Ontario, Canada. She drew in a shallow breath, blinking rapidly, and turned around. She could see shadows hovering there, blurred and transparent, and not entirely formed yet. Her head felt less heavy. How long had it been since the last dose? She couldn't remember. She thought it had been moments ago, but it was difficult to keep track of time like this.

"I lied," she said blithely, unrepentant even as the blurred phantoms before her began to take familiar forms, their own judgmental gazes mirror the one now aimed at the back of her head. She ignored them all, focusing instead on opening the tin box clutched in her shaking hands, revealing the single syringe inside nest to the small vial. She closed her eyes with a grimace. There was only enough for one dose left. "I'm not strong like the rest of you, Alan. I can't do this."

"You are the strongest of us all," he said, voice imploring and earnest. He rested his hand on her shoulder. She could feel the heat of it warm her chilled skin and it made her body shake. "We have a plan. You just need to give us more time."

It actually sounded as though Alan believed that, but it just made a bitter laugh catch in her throat. "You said that when we they first found me and we came up with this ridiculous plan. It's been months…" Her voice cracked on the words, hot streaks falling down her cheeks. "It's been months, Alan, moving from place to place, being alone and helpless… drugged out of my mind." She shrugged his hand off and brought the nearly empty vial up, finally turning to meet his eyes evenly. "I'm out of time."

Alan shook his head, reaching out to stop her as she prepared the injection with practiced ease, but she pulled away from him decisively. "Please, just wait a few more—"

"I know what has to be done," she interrupted, tapping on the side of the plastic and depressing the plunger a bit to get the air out. She clenched her eyes shut tightly and pressed the needle into her skin. "I just need to do one thing first."

"No! Cla—"

"Goodbye Alan."

Alan cried out her name in protest, but it was too late. She had already injected herself and his voice grew fainter as the moments ticked by, the medicine forcing him far away until eventually there was just quietness. She wasn't sure just how long she stood there, but her eyes felt heavy when she finally opened them. Even everything came back into focus, Alan was gone and she was alone again. She wiped at her face silently and abandoned the tin beside the sign.

There wasn't much time now.

…oOo…

Beacon Hills was almost exactly how she remembered it.

It had always been a relatively small town, but it was a busy one with a decent population. It certainly lacked a lot of the usual amenities that larger cities possessed. There were no commercialized retail stores, almost no food chain restaurants, and there was practically no form of entertainment beyond a bowling alley and a movie theater, but that was all part of the charm that had endeared it to her to begin with. It had grown a bit over the last six years, but it still felt the same as she wondered further into town, navigating through the familiar streets with ease.

It still felt like home.

The only disadvantage was the fact that it was difficult to go unnoticed. She imagined it was hard not to look at the crazy looking woman faltering along the sidewalk, dark hair wild and unkempt with stray twigs and leaves, nightgown torn in various places, and body caked in dried mud from her hazardous journey through the woods. She must be a sight. She could even feel the suspicious frowns and curious gazes of the gossiping old women who peeked out from their floral curtains as she passed their houses, most likely moments away from phoning the sheriff soon to report a suspicious looking character in town.

Years ago her husband had been a deputy. She wondered if he still was and if he would be the one to respond to any of the calls about her. It was still early though. He would probably still be at the house, still getting ready for the day. He never could function without copious amounts of caffeine. Just as well, she wondered if he could handle the shock of coming to investigate and quite possibly even arrest the wife he thought he buried long ago. It would probably be safer for them all if no one else saw her. She wanted to hold him again though. To cling to him and never let go. She sped up, walking faster, turning down the familiar road.

The house looked a bit different.

The home had been an older one when they purchased it, but a little love and care into replacing the siding and the ramshackle shutters had done wonders back then. She paused at the mailbox, taking in the faded paint of the house and the unmowed lawn, a sudden ache in her chest at standing in front of after so long. Her garden had grown a little wild in her absence, the flowers alive and healthy but untended to, though the swing her husband had built and hung on the front porch one anniversary was still in pristine condition.

Climbing up the front steps slowly, she tailed a hand along the familiar coolness of the wrought iron bannister behind her. She sat down in the swing and breathed out slowly, the pressure in her chest easing little by little as she rocked. It was still too quiet, save for the distant sound of traffic and birds chittering in the nearby trees, but it felt different here, as if the loneliness was more bearable in this setting. She supposed it had to do with the fact that this was home.

That made all the difference.

Reaching beneath the armrest, she smiled as her hand encountered the little notch in the wood. She scraped her dirty fingernails against it until it loosened, grinning faintly when the thin sliver of wood fell into her open palm along with the hidden key. She stood up, blinking leisurely as the world spun briefly, and then made her way to the door. Her hands shook as she pushed the key in and turned it, feeling more uncertain than ever as the lock clicked, and she grasped the handle and twisted.

The door swung open with a soft creaking noise.

It was dark inside, curtains drawn and no lights on. Her heart fell with the realization that no one was home. She might have been wrong about the time. It was probably later in the morning, maybe even sometime in the afternoon, but none of that mattered because she had missed them either way. She stepped inside anyway, closing the door behind her and leaning against it, and the first real thing she noticed was the smell. Sandalwood, whiskey, and gun oil… her husband.

Tears welled in her eyes again and she pressed a hand to her cracked lips, a broken laugh escaping her at the familiarity of it all. She never would have guessed that she would miss that particular smell. She used to complain so much about how pungent the gun oil was, especially when John would lay out each weapon on the dining room table and clean them there where it would linger for days, but now it made her want to weep.

The house was a bit more cluttered than she remembered. There were new pieces of furniture in the living room, boxes of paperwork piled high along the floors and folders strewn about, though there were a lot of recognizable things as well. Her antique side tables still adorned either side of the sofa, that old vase her aunt had given them as a wedding gift was beside the new flat screen television, and even the longcase clock her grandfather had left her stood tall, still ticking away opposite of the staircase. John had threatened to turn the clock into fire wood almost every night when it went off, but it was still here and still working.

Everything was still here. It was a bit overwhelming to be surrounded by it all.

There were unfamiliar pictures on the walls too. She recognized some of them, having placed them there herself. Their wedding photo was still where she hung it in the family room, as was the collage of their European honeymoon. Various pictures of her son still adorned the staircase walls, everything from the first ultrasound to his first Halloween dressed up as an adorable pumpkin. She smiled at the one of his fifth birthday party, when he had demanded everything to be in orange and blue in honor of the Mets. She recognized everything up until he was about ten.

That was where the wide, perpetually happy smile on his face seemed to dim a bit in the pictures. She had never seen that look on his face. Her son had been an enormous ball of energy with a thousand different smiles for every occasion. It took several moments of looking to realize that she was probably the reason he looked so unhappy, her eyes lingering on an older one of him clinging to her ankles. She forced herself to look away, continuing her ascent up the stairs, and she paused at one that must have been taken when he was thirteen or fourteen, dressed in the maroon colors of the Beacon Hills Lacrosse Team.

It was the first photograph from after she had left that his smile appeared genuine. The sight made a smile form on her own lips, proud of him and how much he had grown. Her son had grown into a young man while she was away. He looked so much like her, his eyes the same shade of brown, the same bowed lips quirked to the side in a sort of mischievous way, and he even had her slightly upturned nose. He seemed to keep his hair shorn close to his head, and his face still held traces of youth, cheeks still round and soft with baby fat, but he had inherited his father's strong jaw. Her baby had grown so much… and she had missed it all.

Tears fell in spite of her efforts to contain them. She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes as the sob welled in her throat. She had missed everything. His last day of middle school, his first day of high school, his first school dance… she wondered if he had good friends, if he had a girlfriend yet, and what his grades were like. She had so many questions. He had always been incredibly smart. She liked to imagine that he was the top of his class. That he was enjoying high school.

Everything seemed to still when she encountered a photograph of a woman she didn't recognize at the top of the stairs.

Something akin to panic kept her immobile for several seconds, unable to look away from the woman that seemed to be dressed in purple hospital scrubs, curly dark hair pulled back out of her beautiful face. It seemed like a recent photo. Oh… she thought, suddenly aware, possibly for the first time, that her family had thought her dead for the past six years. That was long enough to move on. More than enough even. She stumbled away from it, freezing in place when she found herself standing outside of the master bedroom; she backed away from the door, not sure that she wanted to enter a space that her husband might share with another woman.

It was not as if she could blame him if he did. She might have remained loyal all these years, but she was the one who abandoned him. She was the one who had essentially died, leaving him to raise their son on his own. Her reasons were irrelevant, because she knew what it must have done to him. He was allowed to find comfort and love, even if it was with someone else. Her tears were flowing freely now and she made no move to stop them. She had brought this pain on herself after all.

Instead of dwelling on it, she turned to find out more about her son.

Finding his bedroom was easy. It was the same room, painted in the same soothing blue tones, and only the furniture was different. A twin bed situated in one corner and a desk and dresser along the other wall, with the built in bookcases near the closet. He had posters hung up on the walls, bands and movies she had never heard of, and homework laid out on nearly every available surface. She let her eyes scan a few lines of one paper, grinning when she noticed a test that showed he had received a grade of a hundred percent on it.

Every little thing revealed a piece of the young man, be it the books and comics lining the shelves or the heart healthy recipes that had obviously been and pinned to a cork board. Her son was a stranger. She regretted that most of all. There was not a day that had gone by without thinking of him. He was never far from her thoughts. There was no question about whether he thought of her or not. There was a picture of her on his desk, the frame and glass smudged with fingerprints. He touched it often. She reached out with a smile to pick it up.

"There you are," a soft whisper came from behind, cruel and taunting.

Fingers stopping mere inches away, the woman whipped around with wide eyes. The phantoms were back again, vague shadows growing closer and slowly taking form, but one of them was unwelcome. One of them, the one who spoke, was a specter that haunted her. The reason she had been subjecting herself to this half-life, the reason she abandoned her family… she was running out of time. She sidestepped them all and raced back down the stairs.

The phantoms began to follow.

…oOo…

It was well after midday when the woman finally stopped running.

Everything was alight with a startling clearness as the effects of the medications wore off, working themselves out of her system even faster with the physical exertion. She was alone, but not entirely. She could feel them hovering nearby, keeping their distance yet still there. She felt grateful for their presence after the scare at the house. She would rather not be alone when it happened anyway.

There had been no clear destination in mind earlier, but even moving one foot in front of the other blindly had brought her exactly where she needed to be. She wondered into the parking lot, idly observing the many vacant vehicles parked in the spaces, and made her way to the far end nest to the woods in order to wait. There were a few parents milling around in wait for their children to be released from their final classes, but unlike them she would be keeping her distance. She just wanted to see him.

…One last time, she thought. Then I can let go.

Hiding beneath the sigh that stood tall in support of the Cyclones, she waited patiently, no longer feeling the same urgency as before. She really was out of time now. She could even feel the danger growing near, but she refused to hide any longer. It was too late to hide now anyway. Alan had said she was the strongest of them all and he had been wrong, but right now she had to be otherwise they would all suffer for it.

Four of them had already perished. They had been picked off, one by one, slain by bullets, scorched by fire, and cut into pieces under the guise of surgery. The last had been lost to them all since the beginning, denying them all, and even working with the enemy… he may as well have been dead. She refused to bring the rest down though. Alan and Marin were all that she had left beside her family. She had already set the wheels in motion and now there was no possible way to stop what was to come. She would protect them. She would protect them all.

"I knew you would come here," Alan said from beside her. He no longer sounded condemning about her decisions or even urgent. He sounded resigned, even defeated though, like he was already grieving. He knew there was no chance of stopping her. He knew how stubborn she could be once her mind was set. "He should be sixteen now, right?"

"Sixteen," she confirmed, nodding her head. She allowed herself to lean alongside him slightly, taking comfort from his presence warm against her. "You should see him, Alan, He's so big now, so handsome, just like his father…"

"Yes," Alan hummed in agreement. "He has your eyes and your smile though."

"I am so proud of him."

Alan nodded. "You should be," he said, dark eyes roaming over the parking lot just as the shrill sound of the bell signaled the end of school. He spotted a familiar vehicle and nudged her gently, gesturing to the front of the school where it was parked.

"I can't believe that John let him have that old rust bucket," she laughed, but Alan only smiled, one eyebrow raised. They both knew she loved that old blue Jeep. It was only right that her son had inherited it. Her breath caught in her throat as people began flooding out of the building. It seemed like hours had passed instead of minutes by the time she spotted him, a smile working its way onto her face at the sight of him.

The pictures had eased some of the pain even as it hurt to look at them, but those could hardly be comparable to this feeling now, knowing that he was physically tangible and right in front of her and she couldn't get to him. Every part of her ached to cross the distance between them and take him into her arms, but Alan placed a grounding hand on her shoulder. She would only be putting him in more risk, exposing herself to the world by approaching him in public. If she had made it in time to the house, that would have been different, but this… this was a risk.

The smile began to fade seconds later when something became apparent. There were other people everywhere, the sea of teenagers laughing loudly among themselves and chatting as they moved leisurely toward their own vehicles… all but her son. He moved slowly with his head down and shoulders drawn, seeming to take care not to interact with anyone else. He was alone even when surrounded by a crowd of people.

"No," she whispered, recognizing the familiar solitude. She had been just the same way, always setting herself apart from everyone else, content to avoid social interactions because they all felt… wrong. She cried silently as she watched him climb into her old Jeep. She could feel it now as she concentrated, her senses reaching out to him as if to visit, and what little happiness she'd experienced at seeing him this last time dissipated with the knowledge that he was like her in more than just looks. He had it in him to be more than himself.

It scared her.

Alan obviously recognized it too. He watched thoughtfully as her son pulled out of the parking space and moved to join the line heading for the main road, but he maintained his silence on the matter. She knew it would not be long until he brought it up, but she needed to get out of here now. She would rather do this in the woods, where there was less of a chance at being found by and traumatizing some poor teenager… of traumatizing her own son even.

"It's time," she said, wiping her face and releasing a breath. She turned away from the school and into the woods that had been behind her, walking with more surety than she actually felt. She looked down at the nearly forgotten object still clutched in her hands as Alan joined her, the one thing she'd had enough mind to grab in her haste to get out of the house earlier. It had been so cold when she'd first taken it from the safe. The metal felt warm in her hands now though, but that was less than reassuring.

Alan glanced at her with grave eyes. "We can still try."

"… No."

"There is still—"

"No. You know as well as I do what has to happen now." Her voice wavered slightly, but she forced back the need to cry again. She had cried long enough already. She needed to be strong now. She had to be. "Marin with still need you, Meredith and Vincent too if you can find them. I saw them earlier, but…" She shook her head. "They're too far away. Find them."

"We will, Claudia," a new voice added, and suddenly they were not alone, Marin walking on her other side in a posh dress and heels. "We will find them. I promise you."

Claudia nodded gratefully, mouth trembling momentarily. "Thank you." She knew Marin would keep her promise. She always did. Marin would find their missing friend and their wayward charge, would help set them up with new identities and new homes, give them new lives away from all this madness, just as she tried to do for Claudia.

"You intend to go through with this," Marin observed, taking in the gun clutched tightly in her hands, her voice blessedly free of judgement. "There is no way to talk you out of it."

"I have been trying," Alan said. "She is being stubborn."

"… No," Marin shook her head. "She is being courageous."

Claudia felt something loosen in her chest. She knew Marin could have objected. She was probably the only one who could give a convincing argument to do so, but the other woman was aware of the dangers and understood. She knew what had to be done. They both did. They had put it off for too long already and there had been too many close calls. Claudia was only glad to have the chance to see her son again.

"I heard him earlier," she said quietly. "He is almost here." She had no need to elaborate any further. They all knew exactly who she was talking about. Instead they walked together silently, Alan to the left and Marin to the right, each moving deeper and deeper into the trees, and she took comfort in knowing that she had them at her side for this.

"Your son…" Alan said a few moments later. "You realize…"

Marin nodded. "Yes," she agreed. "He has the spark."

Claudia stiffened, her gait faltering briefly. "No," she said firmly, increasing her stride to an almost angry pace. "You imagined it."

"You felt it first." Alan reminded her quietly, and she whipped around to glare at him.

"No!"

"Yes," Marin contradicted, meeting her angry eyes calmly. "He has the potential. Given your biological connection as well as physical proximity, there is a more than likely possibility that the spark would ignite. He would most certainly be reborn just as we were."

The words hung in the air for a moment.

Claudia shook her head against what they were implying. "Do you know what you are asking of me?" she demanded brokenly. "I abandoned my family because of this. I have watched friends and loved ones die because of this… and you want me to condemn my own flesh and blood to this? I refuse to do that to him or to anyone… No. He can live a normal life, the life I should have had."

Marin and Alan glanced at each other.

"Can you honestly say that this life has been so bad?" Alan asked a small measure of hurt in his voice. "Does the bad outweigh the good?"

Claudia felt the anger dispel. She barely even had to consider the words to know what the answer was. These last few months had given her ample time to think about it all, to think about what direction her life would have gone without any of this. It had driven almost every decision since. She had torn her family apart to protect them from it, watched people be hurt and decimated because of it, and had endured more heartache and pain than anyone should ever have to endure… but she couldn't bring herself to regret a single moment of it.

Rebirth was not without its difficulties, though there was no denying that the moments in between had been worth all the hardship. Being reborn had given a certain purpose to her life beyond anything she could have ever imagined, given her everlasting friendship and bonds that she would forever cherish. Claudia had found belonging in the ragtag group of people that had become so intertwined in her life that they were essentially just another piece of herself. She loved them all dearly and could not imagine having ever lived without them.

"You already know the answer," Claudia said reluctantly.

"They are already being hunted, born or unborn," Alan said gently. "You were found out by chance, a routine medical examination. That is all it took. We might not be able to talk you from following through with this plan, but at least think about giving eight individuals a fighting chance. They will be vulnerable either way."

Marin nodded. "Let them have what we do."

"… You cannot ask me to do this," she whispered, but her resolve was already wavering at their urgings. She knew they were speaking the truth. Her own experiences had shown exactly how easy it was to be caught unawares and even without this connection they still possessed the potential. All it would take was one simple medical procedure, something that people had done every single day, and then they would be hunted.

Claudia turned back around and continued on, trying to find a way to dispute their argument even as her own mind rationalized it. They were right and it was futile to continue to deny it. She would be leaving several people completely helpless if she did nothing. She could give them a chance. It was just difficult to admit that it had to be done.

The three of them emerged in a large clearing soon after. It was as good of a place as any and Claudia moved toward the center, immediately collapsing down onto the stump of what had once been a large tree, legs unable to support her any longer. She was exhausted. Her body was already weak from weeks of malnourishment, living off little more than pain killers and even more so now from the physical exertion, but the emotional and mental toll of the past few months, the past few years even—it was all just too much.

"We have gone through hell and back just trying to survive," Claudia whispered, licking her cracked lips. "You realize you are asking me to condemn my own son to that."

Marin knelt down in front of her. She took her hand in reassurance. "If you're going through hell," she said heavily, trailing off and staring intently as she waited for the other woman to finish the thought.

"Keep going," she agreed, frowning as a thought occurred to her. "You will do it yourself if I refuse." It was not a question and Marin met her eyes unflinchingly. She would. It was the only way. They would be in danger either way and doing this, kindling that spark already inside of them, it would give them the opportunity to protect each other. "… Okay."

The pain came as soon as Claudia made the conscious decision to do it. She had never done this before, though she had witnessed others enact it. They treated it like a celebration, a ritual even, but it came suddenly and without warning the second she made the choice. It began as a burning pressure behind her eyes, but it grew rapidly stronger and spread as the moments passed by.

Claudia gnashed her teeth together against the pain. "It hurts," she gasped out, allowing Alan and Marin to guide her down onto her back. She reached out blindly, clutching for their hands, and then cried out weakly. There was a strong and painful tugging sensation, as if her very soul was trying to rip itself from her body, yet the sensation of the rough stump beneath her and the warmth of Marin and Alan beside her never faded, assuring her that she was still there with them in the woods.

They were speaking to her in soothing tones, but it all went unheard over the sudden roaring in her ears. Her body was motionless, lying there seized with an unbearable agony that rattled her bones and set fire to every nerve ending even as ice chilled her veins. The pressure continued to build, growing stronger in her head and in her chest until she was writhing and crying and wishing for it all to end. She screamed when it all became too much to bear.

Gone were the trees in that instant, fading away from her mind even as the bark scraped against her skin, because one moment Claudia had been staring up at the sky and the next she was everywhere all at once. She lifted herself up and stared ahead unseeingly, heedless of the other two, because she could see them. There were eight of them, a cluster of beautiful and strong individuals, and they were all connected in this one moment.

Claudia was on the porch of her home. She heard the door of the Jeep slam shut and the pain eased a fraction at the sight of her son walking up to the door. He faltered on the last step, realizing that he was no longer alone, and he stared up at her in disbelief and wonder. The keys fell from him hands, clattering down alongside his worn backpack, mouth hanging open a bit. She was glad to see him this close, able now to see the many freckles and beauty marks that adorned his skin, just like hers. He was beautiful.

"Mom?" he asked, voice sounding shattered at the sight of her.

Claudia smiled at him comforting just before her mind flashed away again. She could feel the connection between them, a strong line of invisible energy creating a bridge between their hearts, their minds, and their souls. Her son had many more now though, seven more to be exact, each one extending out of him and to different places in the world. She followed one to the driveway of a small home. She felt the heat of the sun on her skin as she observed a young man crouched down in front of an old dirt bike. He stiffened slightly, hand tightening on the wrench, and turned to look directly at her.

Scott, the name came to her unbidden. He had sort of shaggy black hair that fell into his dark brown eyes and curled a bit, and his jawline seemed to be a bit crooked, but there was gentleness to him that most boys his age lacked. He was loving and stubborn and he cared about people a little too much. She smiled at him, knowing already that her son would probably most connected to him. He scratched at his chin in surprise, leaving a small trail of oil along his sun kissed skin, and smiled back up at her hesitantly, as though unsure but unable to keep from smiling back.

Claudia was in a quaint little restaurant now. She could see people everywhere, but her eyes were instantly drawn to the young woman laughing brightly along with a couple of other teenagers until her head turned. They smiled at each other and Claudia notice the way it lit up her features and made the deep dimples even more prominent. Allison. Her hair was dark and wavy and she had a fair complexion with rosy cheeks, but there was a strength there as well, a determination that would eventually kindle into something fiercer. She could be a strong protector when the time came… or their greatest enemy.

Just as suddenly the restaurant faded away, leaving purple walls decorated with photographs and oddly enough a large chart of the periodic table. There were books laid out on the bed, a notebook filled out with equations in neat, curly handwriting, but there were also clothes laid out on nearly every surface available. She watched as a young woman with strawberry blond hair turned to throw another shirt down onto the pile and their eyes met. Lydia. She was fiercer than even she knew, but it would take time to prove that to herself. A scream echoed throughout the room just as the walls faded away.

There was a soft breeze on the wind as Claudia walked along the sandy beach, observing the people sunbathing and splashing in the water, but she approached the area designated for a game of volleyball. She caught the eye of a young man just as he broke away from the game to take a drink of water. Jackson. He was athletic, his features strong and expression proud, but she knew he would need them all the most. He was lost and alone and desperate to find belonging. He stared at her guardedly, mouth downturned into a suspicious frown, but she just smiled at him.

It was quiet in the small room, the wooden floors barely creaking even as the young woman moved swiftly, spinning around with a large staff in hand with practiced ease. Kira. She was going to be a great warrior one day, another protector to help them through all the trials that awaited them. She was a bit awkward in social environments, but the others would all definitely help instill the confidence she needed. The girl paused in her routine as their eyes met connected briefly, hers unexpectedly flashing with a visible inner fire.

Claudia was standing beside a gift kiosk in an airport then. She looked sadly upon the young man with curly hair that tugged restlessly at the soft woolen scarf around his neck, trying to ensure that the thick rings of faded purplish green bruises were covered. Isaac. Her heart ached for him, because he had been hurt for so long. He would need the others for comfort, but he was resilient after taking care of himself for so long. He would recover eventually. She smiled kindly when he turned to look at her, but he ducked away shyly just as quickly.

The sweltering heat of the jungle was offset by the soft patter of rain as the gray sky opened up. People cheered all around Claudia, gathering in a circle beneath the canopy of the tropical trees, and she watched as a young woman was thrown to the damp ground by a man with glowing red eyes. Cora. She had been alone for so long that she had forgotten what it was like not to have to take care of herself. She had lost so much already and even now everything seemed against her. She barely recalled what trust was.

Claudia reached down and the girl looked up, her snarl faltering as the unexpected golden glow faded from her own eyes. She accepted the offered hand with confusion and Claudia pulled her back onto her feet before the man could kick her. Cora immediately whipped around and tried to fight back once more and all at once Claudia was back in the woods with Alan and Marin, even as her mind stretched across the globe. Her body slackened back against the stump as the pain faded entirely. It had dissipated little by little until they were all connected and now she just felt tired.

"You did it," Marin told her softly, pride in her voice.

Claudia smiled widely, feeling a strange sort of peace now even with how weak the experience had rendered her. "Yes," she whispered to them, her own voice hoarse from screaming. "You were right. He was the first to be reborn."

"Your son will never be alone now," Alan said. "We will watch over him. We will watch over all of your children."

The words were as oddly warming as they were strange. Others had claimed a cluster as their children before, but she never realized just how true it was. Claudia had seven new children that were as close to her heart as her own biological son. She knew their hopes and dreams, their doubts and fears, their greatest strengths and utmost weaknesses, and she loved each and every one of them. It was a powerful sensation and Claudia knew they would protect one another to the best of their abilities.

"Thank you," she said, squeezing both of their hands gratefully.

Marin suddenly looked over her shoulder. "They're here."

Claudia looked as well and noticed movement in the trees. She swallowed down the last of her reservations and looked around, finding the gun lying there beside her. She picked it up carefully. "You should both leave," she said shakily. "You shouldn't have to see this."

"Are you sure?" Alan asked.

Marin nodded. "We can stay."

As much as Claudia wanted them here, neither of them had ever been present as one in their own cluster had died. She had and she would never wish that on either of them. "I can't do this if you're here," she said, glad when neither called her out on the lie.

"Goodbye, Claudia," he said remorsefully.

"Farewell, sister," Marin added. "… Until we meet again."

"Protect them," she requested, breathing out a sigh as their arms came around her. She closed her eyes for just a moment, enjoying the comfort they were offering her, but they were both gone when she looked again. She gripped the gun tighter.

It was time.

"I love you all so much," Claudia whispered, openly speaking to them all as she began to raise the gun. She froze as a calloused hand landed on her arm to stop her and suddenly found herself looking up into piercing blue eyes. She stared at the newcomer, both startled and uneasy, because this was the one who had always kept himself apart. He had never considered himself one of them, ignoring their presence and refuting them. She had never expected to see him again, not after their last encounter.

"Please," the man said heavily, looking down to the gun briefly before lifting his head and turning away as if the sight hurt to look at. His jaw clenched. "You can't."

Claudia swallowed slightly, heart pounding in her chest. "I have to."

"No." He shook his head adamantly. "I can protect you. I can help, just give me the chance. We're almost here, just let us take you and I can—"

"Use me to lead you to the others?" she interrupted, and it came out more accusing than she intended it to, but Claudia refused to rephrase it. He drew away, hurt flashing across his features, and she swallowed down the twinge of guilt that welled in her chest. He brought it upon himself. He was the one who was ashamed of them, who had betrayed them, and she had nothing to be guilty about.

"… I'm sorry," he said quietly, the sincerity of the words ringing true. She could feel the truth of it as well, his own culpability prominent and present in his eyes. "It was my fault. This is my fault, the others… and now you. You're doing this because of what I did."

Claudia pressed her lips together. Her silence was answer enough. His inability to accept them had resulted in not only the death of one of their one, but the near annihilation of an entire family and several more deaths to follow. She understood his reasoning and his beliefs, but that could hardly make up for the fact that he was responsible for what had happened. She despised his part in it all. She wished she could despise him.

"It was an accident," she told him, unable to force herself to be angry any longer. She was too tired to pretend to hate him. "I know you never meant for this to happen. I know the fire and the surgery and everything else was out of your hands. You still led them straight to me and Julia though. You're the reason I watched her die." Her voice caught. "I'm not sure I could ever forgive you for that."

"I know. I would never ask you to." He was silent for a moment. "We're here."

Claudia stiffened as a hand brushed along her back, the wrongness of the touch surging through her body. "So is he," she said quietly. He was here, the man who had single-handedly ruined so many lives in his own selfish pursuit was directly behind her, and it would not be long until he was standing in front of her too. She refused to turn around and look at him though. She would never give him the satisfaction of knowing just how terrified she was of him.

"Hello Claudia," the voice drawled tauntingly, a hand resting against her shoulder now. "Just how have you been hiding from me?"

"Fight him."

Claudia shook her head, pressing her lips together. "I can't."

"… Does he know?"

It took Claudia a moment to process the hesitant question. Her breath caught. Everyone nearby must have felt the surge. He knew. He had to know. The vile man was the one to reply first, as if following the conversation, drawling the words out provokingly.

"You've given birth," he said. "It must have been painful."

Claudia took in a shuddering breath, trying to ignore the gibe, focusing instead on the man before her. "Yes," she nodded slowly, and she saw him clench his jaw again.

"I can see you," he said, grim and urgent. "You have to do this soon if you're still going through with it. Ignore him. Focus on me."

"You should leave," she suggested, but he merely took a seat beside her. He took her hand and she felt another tear fall in spite of her efforts. "Please leave."

"No, Claudia," he told her. "I have left you all alone for too long already. I'm going to witness this either way. I would rather be with you when it happens."

It was selfish but Claudia was glad for his presence. She might have sent Marin and Alan away, but they had never been as strong as him. He had been there as Julia died as well. He could get through this. She leaned her head down against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body soak into hers. She looked ahead and could see him walking toward her as well, standing tall and face impassive, blue eyes locked on hers. There were others with him, but they hardly mattered now.

"Is that Alan?" the man behind her asked, sounding interested, but thankfully ignorant of the identity of her companion. "Or perhaps it is one of the others, Marin or Vincent perhaps? Tell them that I look forward to meeting them."

Claudia closed her eyes and lifted the gun.

"Oh, come now my dear," he said chidingly. "How many times have you made this threat? We both know that you will never do it. We have so much more work to do. We still have to find the others. You are one of us after all."

"I'm not like you," she said firmly, addressing him for the first time. She glanced up at the approaching group, staring at the man leading the charge. He moved much more swiftly than his age should allow. She could see her companion just behind him and focused on him instead, drawing strength from him. She had to do this now.

"Yes you are," the old man scoffed, tugging on her hair. "You are just like me. You will be coming home tonight too. With me."

"No."

"Give me the gun," the man in front of her demanded, even as the one behind her whispered, "Put the gun down." He was in two places at once, essentially ordering the same thing, but that only made her twice as determined. She glared at him defiantly.

"No," Claudia repeated, rising the gun the rest of the way and opening her mouth. She breathed in the smell of the gun oil, tasting on her tongue as she closed her lips around the metal, and closed her eyes for the last time. This was it. She could hear shouting, feel horror and grief assault her from all over the world in the split second it took to pull the trigger.

"Stop her!"

The gunshot rang through the clearing.