Awakening

[Amy Copperfield]

So surreal. So...unreal. It couldn't have happened, right? Come on...someone had probably screamed, but it couldn't have been her. No. It must've been some idiot who bought the wrong hair color by mistake, or maybe someone found their poor cat named Skippy lying dead in a gutter. It was a horrible thought, but it was far more plausible than her having screamed. And besides, even if she had...

No. That just wasn't possible. Not possible at all. Maybe someone set off a bomb. Except...well, she was pretty sure that car had been intact. Maybe it had been shockwaves from a bomb gone wrong? She'd heard about that...people making explosives blowing themselves to smithereens, while a half-mile away, someone's front windshield blows out. Sure, it was just urban legend, but it was more plausible than what her asthma-plagued mind had apparently come up with.

She allowed herself a mental laugh, which sounded (could thoughts have sounds?) weak and shaky to her, at the very idea. Her father...he was there, lying on his bed with the door open. It was the same old story, and she had to stick to that or she'd go mad. She was sure of it. Maybe she already was going mad, or was beyond-hope crazy by this point. Had she ever been truly sane? No. She couldn't think. Just...don't think.

Her hands pulled her father's blanket over him, trying to keep him warm. Her eyes drifted to the three-minutes-off alarm clock at his left shoulder. 10.19a. She took a deep breath - or as deep a breath as she could usually take, anyway - stifling a near-cough as she did so. She plodded out of his room silently, closing the door behind her. The girl's wet hair was still wet from the shower she'd just had. She could barely remember her nightmare now, the vaguest hint of three shadowy figures - maybe four? Five? Dancing at the back of her seemingly frail mind.

In her worn, bubblegum-pink slippers, her feet were almost completely silent. She managed to pour herself a glass of orange juice, but her hand shook as she held it. She stared at it for a moment, trying to will it to stop shaking. When that failed, she set the held it with both hands. Then she set the glass down, one hand upon it and the other flat upon the faded teal tiles of the kitchen counter, fingers splayed out as though to finger-paint a hand-turkey. She took a few breaths to steady herself, closing her eyes, trying to clear her mind.

She fumbled for her inhaler. She wasn't breathing normally. It was the stress. Yeah; that had to be it. Yesterday was just a really, really bad day. A bad fucking day, as Christian Kane might say. Her eyes snapped open as she tried to discern if she'd said that aloud, however. She looked around nervously as she shook her inhaler, used it as she glanced toward his door; if her dad caught her cussing, he'd lay into her but good. But no; she hadn't...she was sure of that, at least. Perhaps there was a bit of sanity left in her after all. Or perhaps not. As she looked down at her white knuckles, she released the vice-like grip on the base of her glass. Any tighter and she would've cracked it. She worked her hand a few times, getting feeling back into it.

The remote. It was just over there. The news...the news would prove to her that it wasn't her. It was a dream, or she hadn't been involved, or something. It wasn't her problem and if it did happen, it certainly wasn't her fault. She had nothing to do with it.

Nothing whatsoever.

But as she reached for the remote, she heard a sharp rap on the front door. She gasped as her head whipped around, her hand snapping back to her as though burned. Through the curtains, she could just make out the shape of someone...a lady...dressed in a suit? Her heart raced and she found herself using her inhaler again. Probably unnecessary, but...she wasn't home. No. She wasn't home. This was not happening. Nobody was home right now. The woman couldn't see her through the curtains; she told herself that to calm herself, but it didn't work. Well, it worked a little. Just enough, anyway. But maybe not as much as she'd like. Besides, she was probably just a cosmetics saleswoman or something like that. Except, she didn't seem to have a bag or case with her.

Amy found herself glancing toward the knife block, a present she'd bought for her father since he never seemed to remember where the cheese knife was. He was kind of ignorant that way...but it was just a minor annoyance. Amy honestly didn't know what she'd do if her father was...egad...normal. Geez. Normal people were so boring. They got good grades and had two parents that loved them dearly and spoiled them rotten, and they rode around in minivans or SUVs, watching their back-seat DVD players or listening to the latest CDs. Not her. Not Amy.

Amy got her music from YouTube and rented her movies from those $1 rental machines. They had one just up the road, at a gas station...about eight blocks away, an easy ride on her second-hand blue Airspring (an old bike that she wasn't entirely certain was stable). Heh. Bike riding. It was the one sport she could do without risking a blue face and an ambulance. Not mountain biking, oh no...just biking. Wouldn't want to crash because she couldn't breathe, huh?

She thought these things at herself with scorn, putting herself down by simple method of witty sarcasm. Yeah. Witty. That's it. Or just lame. Lame, like her. She was always so lame...

Back to the knives. Yeah. The knives. Her mind was wandering. Focus, dammit. Focus on the situation at hand. And then the second knock came, snapping Amy's brown eyes back to the door. Whomever the woman was, she wasn't going away. She glanced behind her at her father's bedroom door again, wondering...no. She didn't need to wake him. But as she looked back to the front door, she wondered: answer it, or keep pretending no one presently inhabited the two-bedroom house upon whose door the lady suit was rapping?

[Ella Tate]

Even before the cops in Iowa were briefed on what had happened, Ella was already slipping her passport into the pocket underneath her navy blue overcoat as she slid into the window seat of the plane. The two hour flight and an hour drive down to the new recruit's town hopefully wouldn't be much of a hassle for the recruiter. She was quite confident that this would be an easy in and out recruitment. No need to involve Dr. Campbell. She wasn't going to let her mentor down by coming back empty handed.

Fortunately, no fussy babies were on board, her traveling partner didn't talk much and the transition from plane to rental car had been smooth. Things were definitely looking up.

The drive hadn't been too bumpy and with little to no stopping for directions, Ella found herself parked in front of a normal looking house with a small swinging gate and an unattended garden.

Pushing the car door shut, Ella pressed the button on the car key to lock it up. She took her time walking up the steps, her hands smoothing down her crisp suit and skirt, her Mary Jane's barely making a sound on the wooden porch. Everything was silent. A little too silent for ten in the morning.

Especially since her powers had kicked in ten minutes ago. She pushed her powers down, wiping her eyebrows of the frown that had etched on her face due to the headache from having to suppress her own powers. The kid inside must be frightened enough already.

"Miss Copperfield, I'm not affiliated with the police in any way. If you could just open the door, I will make sure you won't have any repeats of yesterday."

[Amy Copperfield]

Seeming to herself almost half-mad, Amy's mind was now recalling the words of an old poem she'd heard years ago - The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe, a classic and favorite of everyone who read it (well, among those who read poetry, anyway):

Suddenly there came a tapping
as of someone gently rapping,
rapping at my chamber door...

...and the silken, sad, uncertain
rustling of each purple curtain
thrilled me - filled me
with fantastic terrors
never felt before...

She almost let out a nervous laugh for real this time. She drowned it by picking her glass and draining her OJ. Not the smartest idea, but as her eyes locked upon that figure standing just beyond her 'chamber door', her mind focused on the words issuing from between her stranger's lips rather than what was likely a hazardous method of downing one's morning juice. She let out a breath as she set the glass down again (probably a bit harder than she meant to). She didn't take her hand off of it this time.

Yesterday? Police? What...this isn't happening. It's not. I'm innocent. I didn't do anything! she thought frantically to herself. Still, she did not go to the door. Perhaps the woman would eventually leave. She just had to not say a word, and wait it out...

[Ella Tate]

Standing at the porch, listening to the slightest of sounds coming from inside, Ella sighed. It looked like this wasn't going to be the easiest of recruitments. Shifting her weight to one foot, Ella placed one hand on his hip while the other went to her forehead as her fingers smoothed out her furrowed eyebrows.

She knocked once more. "Miss Copperfield, my name is Ella. If you could just open the door, I wouldn't mind answering any questions you have." She called out to the girl who was either in denial of what happened last night or scared. Either one just didn't bode well for Ella, especially since she wasn't inside the house.

"And I don't want to do that behind a door. Could you please open the door?" Ella kept her voice reassuring and steady. No sense in sounding exasperated or desperate.

[Amy Copperfield]

Couldn't this woman just...go away? She didn't even identify herself. She was some strange woman who seemed to be fishing for information. Amy wasn't biting. At least, she didn't think she would for one, her father was sleeping. If this woman woke him up, he would not be happy and she'd likely get the brunt of it, as she was the cause. He needed his sleep so he could work tonight.

Besides...he didn't need the worry of his daughter being in trouble for something she didn't do. Amy wasn't going to put that on him. The more she thought about it, the more she found the need to protect her father from - whatever had happened last night. It was probably stupid, but it was a father-daughter thing. He'd raised her. She couldn't just let him deal with whatever.

Anyway, she hadn't done anything wrong. Even if she had somehow broken every window in that car and the small shop across the street - and the home she'd nearly been raped in front of - it had been self-defense. They had tried to rape her, for god's sake! How could anyone blame her for defending herself against a couple of idiots who couldn't keep it in their pants?

Finally, though, she moved. She went to the door, the empty glass and the abandoned remote forgotten. The TV just wasn't all that important right now. She didn't open it, but she didn't make herself known, either. The woman was waiting outside. She wasn't going to leave. Why couldn't she just leave her alone?

"Who are you?" she asked through the door.

She felt stupid as soon as she did that, but there was no turning back now.

[Ella Tate]

There were a million other things Ella could be doing now. Recruiting a more receptive meta was definitely at the top of her list. But she was here now. She had to at least make the most of it. Even if it meant knocking on the door a few more times.

She had remembered her own recruitment. Miss Aristea Panagos had been charming, and so damn convincing. Of course, Ella would have jumped into any old stranger's car back then who promised her a life away from her step-mother. Ella supposed other people wouldn't easily warm up to the fact that they had to drop everything in their current life to control something in them that might have catastrophic setbacks.

This girl was probably just confused as to why some stranger was knocking at her door to answer questions she was probably denying existed in the first place.

When Ella finally heard a small slightly muffled voice from the other side of the door, a silent victory smile etched on her face. "I'm Ella Tate. If you could just open the door," there was no way Ella was going to give away any other information from outside a door.

[Amy Copperfield]

Ella Tate. She had a name. But she still didn't know who the hell this was. Business suit or not, she was a stranger. Amy tried to think back to all the people she'd seen. It wasn't like she knew everyone, of course, but she definitely didn't remember seeing this woman before. Neither did she recall the name Ella Tate from another time or place. Granted, she didn't have photographic memory, but still...

And yet, the woman wanted to be let into her house based entirely on a name. She didn't look like a thief. She was wearing a suit. Thieves didn't wear suits, last time she checked. Someone wearing a suit might be a pimp or 'sell security', but they definitely didn't just break into people's houses and beat people up and steal things, did they? Then again, maybe she was mob. The mob did that from time to time. Hell, look at that fat guy in Eraser Schwarzennegger saved. He was mob...

But this wasn't a movie. This was reality. And reality...well, it kinda bites. Besides, she was less likely to wake up her father if she opened the door. Anyway, the door had the key lock; a second lock; a dead bolt, and a chain...this woman didn't look strong enough to bust a door down without taking a step back and slamming herself into it. She could be FBI.

But on that thought, she didn't open the door. Not yet.

"You can't talk to me without my parents."

She said she wasn't the police. Didn't mean she wasn't a fed, and they had that same rule. She was more into spy movies than cop dramas, but her father liked the latter and she'd seen enough when he was around to know a few things about how the law worked. You needed a warrant or probable cause to enter someone's place and search it, including their car. You needed to be read Miranda rights (though she didn't know who Miranda was; probably the one that wrote them) before you could be arrested. Once someone asked for a lawyer or one showed up, the cops couldn't ask you anything you didn't want to answer.

And parents had to be present for cops or feds to talk to minors.

So, no, she wasn't opening the door just. She might've been 13 - recently turned 13, even - but she wasn't stupid.

[Ella Tate]

The victorious smile crumbled and Ella had to restrain from the exasperated sigh that was begging to be let out.

Well, the girl knew her rights, that was obvious. But Ella wasn't a law official was she? Hammel was practically above the law. At least when it came to metas. Oh Ella could kick the door down right now if she wanted to. But she wasn't some hooligan looking to pay for a damaged door out of her salary.

Her professionalism denied her the comfort of banging her head against the door so she cleared her throat and kept her smile, just so if Amy were looking at her through the peephole, she wouldn't think there was anything wrong. "I'm here to talk to both you and your father, Amy." Ella made sure to use the girl's first name. To establish a more personal connection, she supposed. She just hoped the girl won't get freaked out or anything.

[Amy Copperfield]

Her and her father? Okay, this woman had to have been some kind of authority. Cop, fed, whatever. Didn't matter. She didn't have a warrant and honestly, if she wouldn't even tell Amy who she was, Amy didn't like the idea of letting her into the house. For one thing, her father would be pissed when he woke up. That was exactly why he wasn't going to find out about this, however - if Amy could help that. Whatever the woman wanted, she wasn't going to get it.

"He's asleep."

That he was, and she wouldn't have woken him up even if a cop came to the door in uniform. She didn't want to lose the only person she cared about because he was too tired to notice the gun sticking out of a guy's belt. Her father might only be a security guard, not a cop, but that didn't mean the job was any safer than riding around in a cruiser all day long.

"I don't know you. Go away."

Okay...so, probably not the most mature thing to say. But, hey, she was 13. What was she going to say? Something straight out of Shakespeare?

[Ella Tate]

Ella had an exceptionally high patience and tolerance quota, which in her line of work was pretty damn valuable. But this was ridiculous. For all intents and purposes, Ella looked like she couldn't even hurt a fly. Her voice was welcoming and her appearance was sweet though a little businessy with her suit and pants. But generally, she had the appearance of a personable and demure young woman.

But this girl is making it difficult. Although Ella's got her powers suppressed, it didn't make much difference if she can't even go through the front door. For all Ella knew, the girl could even go through the back door. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't very well kick the door down, that part had already been turned down in her head. A different approach now would be to leave and try to get to the girl tomorrow.

However, Ella was no quitter. She liked to see things through in any means possible. There was no way she could leave now without going in the house and talking to this girl. "I can't go away, Amy. I'm here for you." Ella continued. "I don't want to discuss what happened last night behind a closed door. And I'm quite sure your father would want to know if anyone had hurt his daughter in any way possible." It was her last gambit. It could work both ways to and against her advantage.

She just hoped it was the former.

[Amy Copperfield]

There was no getting rid of this woman, and now it was as plain as day that this woman was well aware of what had happened last night. She had to be. But how could she know? She hadn't even thought that kind of thing was possible. I mean, one little scream, and now this woman was here 'for her'? What the hell did that mean? Was she going to kidnap her?

"What do you know about last night?"

The woman was right. Her father would want to know. But the last thing she needed was for him to go to jail because he beat the crap out of a bunch of seniors on her behalf. The police were the reason chivalry was dead. And anyway, she was bound to get in trouble; she was pretty sure those guys wouldn't just let this go, and she was equally certain that it was illegal blow out their ear drums - whether it was an accident or not. She was thirteen. Couldn't she be tried as an adult at, like...ten?

She couldn't go to jail. She just couldn't. Not with her asthma. Besides, the place was filthy and filled with cockroaches (and not just the kind with six legs).

But she couldn't very well give herself away, either. If this woman didn't know anything, she wasn't going to tell her anything.

[Ella Tate]

She was still calm. She was still collected. She was not going to blow her cool just because this girl was scared of whatever consequences that might lead to her inevitable capture. Ella was certain the girl must have enormous doubts about Ella's identity and how in the world she knew about the city block damage. And her question verbalised that doubt.

But damn it all if this was what was going to happen the whole damn morning! Her on the other side of the door speaking to Amy who was safely tucked in her house. This is completely ridiculous, it was making Ella nuts. But her work ethic dictated that she remained outwardly calm despite whatever situation she was put in.

"Amy, do you really want your father to hear me yelling downstairs while he's sleeping? And do you want your neighbours to know what I know about what happened last night?"

It was the last resort. She didn't like to make threats. Not even the smallest. Especially to someone whom she needed to gain her trust. Little girl, please just open the damn door. Ella thought to herself.

[Amy Copperfield]

In the long, tense silence that followed that question, a car drove past. Amy could hear the squeaking of the axle as it turned a corner just up the road; it was Don, the gardener who sometimes sold fresh tomatoes to Amy's father. Through the curtain, across the street and down two houses, she could see James - a boy she refused to admit was cute, despite blushing lightly every time the subject came up - pulling his lawn mower out of the garage. He tinkered with every morning, trying to get it running so that he could finally mow his unruly lawn. His hair was just as unruly, of course, and his eyes...

She blinked that thought away as she glanced toward the far wall of her own house. In a moment, what's-his-face with the mole on his neck would be stepping outside to get his morning paper. He was always late about it, the sixty-something retired mechanic having grown lazy in his old age. She glanced toward the knives once more, but knew that she couldn't stab someone even if she wanted to. She'd heard that desperate people do desperate things, but she was no murderer.

Her would-be rapists were still alive, weren't they?

So, Amy set her jaw and slowly started undoing the locks. First, the knob lock...then the lock above that...then the dead bolt. But she wasn't undoing the chain.

The door cracked open just enough to reveal the face of a lovely thirteen-year-old girl with soft features and well-groomed (if plain) brown hair. She'd worn her coveralls today, just because they were on the top of the pile, and a pink tee proudly displaying the Backstreet Boys. She had no earrings, no necklaces, no bracelets, no rings...but, for a girl having just hit her teens within the month, she was pretty cute regardless. Soft, pale-red lips were pursed and her brow was furrowed as though she were the adult scolding the child (not the other way around).

"What do you want?"

[Ella Tate]

Taking a deep breath, Ella looked up and prayed to anyone who was listening to just make the girl see sense. And what did she know, the door was opening a crack.

Ella stepped back so give the girl some space. She wasn't about to enter the house by force. Not after the wait she was put through. And the girl looked impossibly young. Ella had thought she would be fifteen or sixteen. But no. The girl looked barely out of diapers...

Of course, she couldn't be any younger than Ella had been when she was recruited eleven years ago.

"What do you want?"

Ella planted a smile on her face and held up a hand in a wave. "Hi, Amy. Mind if I come in?" Ella was just short of pushing the door and slipping inside but really. No good could come of that. Amy just needed to open the door and let her in. Wasn't hard. Step aside, open the door slightly bigger than the hairline crack it was right then and let her in.

The neighbours won't know she was a stranger and nobody would be the wiser. All Amy had to do was let Ella in.

[Amy Copperfield]

Ella Tate was pretty, probably twenty years older than Amy, and seemed to be impatient. The way she was standing, she was clearly desperate to get inside. That didn't sit very well at all with the suspicious thirteen-year-old, but then, her father was a security guard and Amy was already nervous about the previous evening's events without having to deal with some lady suit on top of them. In short, she could care less who Ella was at this point, or what she looked like. Her father was asleep and this woman wasn't going to bother him or come inside without a good reason.

Of course, knowing she wasn't going to be arrested or something might've helped. But, the woman had said nothing of the sort and Amy didn't trust her. For one, she was wearing a suit; no one in this neighborhood wore suits (except for the old guy, Mr. Diddler or something like that, at the other end of the block - but he was, like, eighty and could barely remember his own name). For another, she was going on about 'last night' as though she knew exactly what had happened. How could she have? Unless she had a badge, of course. That wasn't just a small yelp, after all.

That was a blood-curdling scream that, it appeared, had done the impossible. It was completely surreal, like a dream that had sprouted from a distant memory. But this woman's presence here meant that it had in fact happened, and her aversion to Amy's question did not instill trust in the fresh teen. So, she repeated her question.

"What do you want?"