Libby was in pain; her breaths were becoming shorter and more gasps than anything, a stitch had started up in her side, and her lungs were burning as though someone had set fire to them. The most annoying thing was the shrill whistling that was constantly filling her ears and messing up what little concentration she had left. Her goal was blurry and too far away to even contemplate at the moment, heat lines wavering under the unforgiving sunlight. To put it bluntly, she felt like she was dying.

Yelling replaced the whistle now and only made the teen's legs work harder against the pull of exhaustion. After what felt like hours she finally reached her goal and collapsed on the hard, burning asphalt, sucking in deep breaths as her gym coach continued his rant.

She didn't see why he was so pissed, it wasn't like she'd signed herself up for the half mile race she was practicing for. If she had her way, she wouldn't even be on the track team, but her case worker was firm in her doing extra curriculars to keep her occupied. Gym and Libby Marks didn't mix well.

"Get up and try it again, Marks," the coach growls, bringing his whistle to his lips. Libby groans, but gets to her feet nonetheless. Her case worker would kill her if she ended up getting detention for not listening to her elders. The whistle blows and she starts running, wishing she were anywhere else but there.

Why couldn't I have taken art or some other blow off class? I probably could've joined one of those after-hours science clubs and smoked pot with the teacher.

Sucking in a deep breath, she tries to speed up at least a little bit to shut up her coach, the third one this year. Her gym class was particularly good at making coaches they didn't like run for the hills, but Aaron didn't seem to be going anywhere fast unless her friend dropped some weed in his office. She smiles at the thought of Coach Aaron getting put in the back of a police car, his face beet red and the little vein in his forehead throbbing. God, how she'd love to actually see that happen, but she wouldn't dare inform her friend of the idea.

"If you're in such a good mood surely you can speed up," Aaron shouts from his spot on the bleachers, a bottle of cold Gatorade clutched in his hand and the whistle hanging from a chain around his neck. She says nothing and speeds up a bit, much to her lungs' protest that she does otherwise.

She only stops again once she finally reached the chalk line drawn on the track, hands on her knees and panting for breath. She was definitely going to lose some serious weight by the time the year was over with, something she would be proud of when it actually happened.

"Jog back to the gym and get ready for your next class." She nods, jogging until she was well out of his sight and then slowing to a walk.

Libby never noticed that there was someone watching her, too busy quietly swearing at the teacher she'd left behind. The man's brown eyes glint with triumph; after years of searching, Cyrus had finally found the girl he was looking for. The seventeen-year-old wasn't very attractive, he'd admit; her blonde hair was in a bun as usual, and she was dressed in a pair of loose shorts and an oversized tank top that said Surely Not Everyone Was Kung Fu Fighting in bold white letters.

She might be easier to look at once she's lost some weight and tried to look presentable and not like someone who just crawled out of the gutter. She had a power in her, though, her entire family did, but she was at the age that was ripe for corruption. It helped she was gullible and innocent to most of the ways of the world. Yes, she would do nicely until he no longer needed her.

After all, she wouldn't be missed by many.

/*/Libby/*/

Libby takes her seat at the last row of tables in the chemistry classroom, putting her things down on the space in front of her. At this point in the day, she didn't much care whether or not she even glanced at her classwork, she just wanted to finish her bottle of water and cool down. Her face is still tinted red from her earlier exertion and it made her best friend have to stifle a giggle. She glares at the brunette, holding up the finger she was proudest of.

"I take it gym went well, Libby," Diana asks with a grin, pushing Libby's hand down.

"Well, Aaron didn't threaten to have me filleted alive today, so yeah." Libby looks around the classroom, wondering when their teacher would make his grand entrance. Cook was often late, but never quite this late. She takes another long drink from her water bottle before setting it on the floor beside her chair, feeling a little less like death warmed over. "How was computer science and, more importantly, was Richardson in a bad mood again?" Diana shrugs, cool blue eyes surveying the room.

"She wasn't too bad today, must've gotten a coffee fix or something." Or something alright. She might be buying a costly little something from one of the other foster kids. "Anyway, have you heard the latest basketball gossip?" Libby shakes her head, steeling herself for the inevitable wave of so-called 'news' that was about to hit her. "Apparently Jade and a sub got caught in the middle of doing the dirty and he got fired, but here's the best part, she's pregnant and her parents are trying to sue the sub." With a soft laugh, Libby opens her chem book and begins to look over last night's homework for any mistakes before Cook came in to pick it up. "You actually did your homework last night?"

"Yep, Davey said that he'd give me a later curfew if I passed chemistry with a B." Davey is her case worker, an awesome guy for the most part, but a real hard ass when it comes to school. Diana nods, pulling out her worksheet and frowning down at it; she was great when it came to the math part, but hopeless when it came to the periodic table. "One should be aluminum." She tilts her head to the side, scribbling it down just as Cook walked into the room, slamming the door behind him as he always does to get the class' attention.

Libby slides her worksheet in front of her for Cook to pick it up, absently chewing on her pen cap. Diana continues to scramble to get her work done even though she knew Cook would help her with it after school when she came to his shop to work. She kept him organized, not to mention satisfied.

"Ladies," Cook greets when he makes it to their table, taking up Libby's paper and sending Di a wink. Libby snorts, shaking her head and sending her teacher a smile. He grins back, knowing she would keep his secret for the simple reason that she considered him one of her favorite teachers. "Alright, everybody, face the smart board. Time for our weekly video!" The video turned out to be the newest episode of Criminal Minds, his favorite show and the bane of Diana's existence. Di groans and rolls her eyes, sick of the episode already. "Diana, you can sleep later, that's why you have a bed at home!" Her head snaps up from the table, scowling at her lover.

He'll be suffering from blue balls for a week because of that little comment, Libby muses, doodling on the margins of her textbook. Unless he does a strip tease, then she'll jump him before the song is over. That had been embarrassing to walk in on, Libby expecting them to be arguing over how to organize his robotics equipment and not dry humping like a pair of pre-teens at a school dance.

She shudders at the memory, nose scrunching up as she glances sideways at her friend. Diana was still working on yesterday's homework, chewing on her thumbnail as she did. The blue polish there was starting to chip away, another manicure down the drain because of a childhood habit she couldn't quite kick.

The classes for the rest of the day passed by quickly, bleeding into one another until the bell rang for the final time and Libby was allowed to sprint out of her drama class. With the last class of the day over with, Diana and Libby made their way to the student parking lot. It had been a long day and all she wanted to do was pass out in her bed, but don't let it be said that she'd ever caught a break.

Parked beside Diana's jeep is a fancy car that looked like it cost more than Libby's old house. Standing at the passenger's side of it is Davey and the standing at the driver's side is some dude in a suit, both men looking out of place in the crowd of teens. The new guy was handsome, pale blue eyes and cheekbones that looked like they'd been crafted by Zeus himself. He also reminded her of her old lawyer, too full of himself to notice the two girls walking towards him.

"I didn't think Davey made enough to have a car like that," Diana says.

"He doesn't," Libby mumbles, her stomach tying itself into a knot as they get closer and closer to the two men. Davey looks anxious, something big is obviously on his mind and, judging by the way he keeps looking at the other guy, it's nothing good. "Hey, Davey, what's going on?" He gulps, his eyes now focused on the ground and his hands stuffed into his pockets.

"Libby, I've got some big news for you," he starts out with a slight stutter. "This man with me is a lawyer and he's come to me with all the proper paperwork of adoption." The other man looks at Diana with obvious interest, taking in her curves and large breasts. It was obvious what he was thinking about and Libby couldn't blame him. Diana is beautiful and makes a lot of guys look her way with sighs and fantasies; Libby, on the other hand, seems to repel them. She's too awkward around people and she's lucky to get laid once every few months while Di gets it every other Tuesday as long as Cook's wife is out of the shop. "Mister Moss, this is Elizabeth Marks."

The man's gaze lands on her now, intense and cold as he gives her a quick once-over. She meets his gaze head-on, not letting on to the nervous butterflies in her belly. His light blond hair is slicked back and he's dressed in a designer suit that fits his firm build perfectly. He would probably make Libby a blubbering mess if she didn't have to see those eyes, there's no warmth there, only distaste and disinterest. She crosses her arms over her chest, hiding the bit of cleavage that her shirt reveals.

"Ben Moss," the man says, stepping forwards and holding out a hand for Libby to shake "I'm your future father's lawyer." She shakes the offered hand, sending Diana a look that spoke volumes of how much she wanted to be somewhere else. The brunette picked up on it, holding onto Libby's arm and pulling slightly in the direction on her jeep. The sight of Di holding onto to Libby seemed to perk Moss' interest, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly in a smirk.

"Sorry if there's an inconvenience, Mister Moss, but Libby's mine for the day. We have all sorts of fun things planned, no men allowed." Di's tone had changed from playful to sultry in point five seconds, a new record. Moss' eyes darken slightly, licking his lips as he continues to stare at the two of them. Libby quickly catches onto Di's hint, wrapping one arm around her waist and resting her head on Di's shoulder. "Surely you won't keep us from having fun before my best friend has to leave?" Moss swallows, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Of course. What kind of man would I be if I separated you two young women before you had a chance to say your goodbyes?" Di giggles, playing with a lock of Libby's hair before pulling her away to the jeep and speeding out of the parking lot. It doesn't take the girls long to dissolve into laughter, the look on Moss' face enough to make the giggles uncontainable. He'd looked hopeful, as though he'd thought they'd invite him along for the ride.

"That was the best fake couple scheme we've ever pulled off!" Libby grins in agreement, pulling her shirt back up to cover more of her breasts. "God, did you see his face when I pulled your shirt down a little more?"

"The best part was when I hugged you back. His jaw would've hit the floor if we went any further." Diana giggles, bouncing in the driver's seat as they pull into the driveway of Cook's shop. They often hang out here in their free time, playing video games and watching TV while Cook builds shit. He is the biggest geek in town, building his own instruments and using his 3D printer to make Di a Storm Trooper mug and Libby a little Scooby-Doo figurine. "I'm gonna miss doing stuff like this when I'm gone."

"You don't know that your new daddy doesn't live in town."

"Did you even notice how fancy his lawyer was? There's no doubt that if my mystery dad can afford a guy like that, then he's bringing in the big bucks which means no small town trailer." Diana purses her lips as they walk inside, heading straight for the cabinet that Cook keeps the liquor in. "That is a very good idea. I'm gonna have to be good and drunk to put up with Daddy Warbucks in a few hours."

"And I need to give you a proper send off."

Libby groans as she climbs into Moss' fancy car, holding onto the seat so she didn't fall. The lawyer rolls his eyes, climbing into the driver's seat and giving her an annoyed you better not puke on my expensive leather seats look as he peels out of the driveway, heading back to the main road a few miles away.

"What the hell is wrong with you," he demands, sounding weirdly like a disappointed parent. Libby only giggles, kicking off her shoes and curling her legs underneath her in order to get more comfortable.

"I thought it was obvious, lawyer-person," she slurs. "I got drunk with my best friend and my science teacher, and then I made out with her, and then you showed up." She pauses a moment, trying to remember if that was the right order before nodding confidently. "Yeah, that's how it went. Ho-how'd you know where I was anyhow?" He clears his throat, giving her chest a pointed look. She glances down, wondering when her shirt had vanished. "Woah, push-up bras really are magical."

"We don't have enough time to get you completely sober for the court time, start drinking water." He reaches down and picks up a bottle of water from the floorboard, shoving it into her hands.

"Who needs to be sober when you could be having sex?" He lets out a surprised cough, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Not right now, of course. I'm not eighteen until tomorrow morning. Or midnight tonight…. What day is it, Benny?"

"Drink, Elizabeth."

"Only Davey calls me that. It kind of ruins the mood when I hear you say something Davey does. Do you know Davey? He's great, he's got this little wolf figurine—" Moss slams on his breaks, turning in his seat to level a hard stare in her direction. With wide eyes, she starts chugging the water and he makes a satisfied sound before driving again.

"Why the fuck would you go get drunk when you knew you had court today?" She opens her mouth to answer, but he just shoves some more water at her. "It was a rhetorical question. Keep drinking." She takes the new bottle and throws the empty one in the back.

"You're boring."

"And you're a pain in the ass." He's quiet the rest of the way to her foster home, white-knuckling the steering wheel as she continued to drink. The only thing keeping him from pushing her out of his car altogether was the massive paycheck that had his name written on it, Cyrus' pending until Elizabeth had been delivered.

Davey was waiting just inside the doorway once they arrived, holding the door open for them as Moss drags the blonde inside. It wasn't an easy task to complete, she was dragging her feet stubbornly until they reached the threshold. Impatient, he picks her up and settles her inside, jaw clenched.

"Davey," she whines," the lawyer won't have sex with me!" The frowning case worker says nothing, pushing her in the direction of the bathroom. "I'm not gonna be happy about it!"

/*/The Adoption/*/

"Are you going to change her name," the judge asks the man adopting Libby.

"Just her surname," the other man states. Up close and personal, the only real mystery surrounding Cyrus Kriticos was just how loaded he was. She glares as Davey over her shoulder for not saying anything about this in the entire two years this adoption had been in the works.

"Alright, you'll need to approach and sign this paper and then she's all yours." Cyrus moves forward, pulling a pen out of his suit jacket. He dressed sort of old fashioned; normal suit with a cravat and a cane that he didn't need. His hair is the same dark brown as his eyes and his skin is pale, wrinkles showing his age. Someone who doesn't get out much, maybe? He's obviously wealthy, his car alone worth more than anything Libby owns. "Well, you're free to go." And so she walked out of the courtroom a new person. No longer the grungy teen she woke up as this morning, but a high class young woman.

Elizabeth Kriticos, at your service.