Dean and Franky had been in the same home for 4 years. They were attached-at-the-hip close, the kind of siblings who knew each others business, schedules, everything. Two halves of the same whole and, without the space afforded by separate living spaces, dangerously co-dependent. They'd weathered a flood of foster siblings together, ranging from invisible to sociopathic. But they'd made it with the help of one another, and promised to continue to do so.

It happened unexpectedly, the two twelve-year-olds finding themselves trapped in Dean's bedroom by the two older boys currently residing in the house. Dean and Franky glared, recognizing a power play when they saw one, but before they could react the 15-year-old John had pinned Dean to the floor on his stomach, right arm twisted behind his back painfully and a fist holding his head down by his curly hair. 14-year-old Greg had Franky pinned on her back. She was spitting and snarling like the wildcat that she was, not above scratching and biting. Dean couldn't see her face around the corner of the bed, so he called out encouragement, earning a knee to his kidney. But he was gratified to see Franks redoubled her efforts.

Greg picked up Franky's head and slammed it against the floor. The crack made Dean's blood run cold. Franky's struggles stilled, her arms falling to her sides, either unconscious or dazed.

Dean reached his left arm out, trying to reach his Franky. The sniggering John maneuvered his leg from under himself, lifting it up and letting his heel fall onto Dean's hand. Pain lanced up his arm, and he still couldn't reach Franky.

She was too far. He had to get to her, had to help her, get away, something, anything, his Franky, had to protect his Franky.

Greg said, "I wonder if she's a ginger everywhere," and-

Two creatures circled one another in space, an interstellar dance spanning lightyears, eons, forever together, like him and Franks, always together, until-

Dean effortlessly stood, his movements so fast that in throwing John off, the older boy rebounded off the wall and crumpled, unconscious. Dean picked Greg up off a dazed Franky, punching him hard enough that his jaw broke. Dean threw him on top of John.

Franky sat up, a confused film over her eyes.

She understood what to do within a matter of seconds, if not what was happening.

"Don't tell anyone," she said.

Dean nodded.

…

They came for her when Dean was at the doctor.

A social worker and her assistant, a man clearly there to make sure no trouble arose. They knew when to hit, to make sure Franky and Dean were separate when they came to move her to a new house.

They'd been so good. Especially the past year, after Dean had gotten his powers. So why? What had they done wrong, had she done wrong? Was it just one of those things, like pushing paper around a desk? But with kids, actual individuals, as their quota? She was just another file that needed shuffling and she was certainly an easier target than Dean. They didn't know he had powers, but they suspected something was up, which was the whole reason for the doctor. They wanted Dean to pee in a cup to make sure his new bumbling strength wasn't steroids.

Per capita in the U.K, there were fewer capes than most of the world, barring the special cases like the C.I.U. It wasn't a first thought.

"Don't make a scene, Francesca. It's way past time we give you some breathing room from Dean Hayes."

"No, you can't do this. He's my family," Franky pleaded, but the assistant man was walking up the stairs, and Franky saw him start to pull a garbage bag out of his pocket.

"You two need space," the social said firmly, and the annoyance on her face made it clear that she didn't think of Franky and Dean as family at all. "Now follow Hector, he'll help you pack." The social herded Franky up the stairs, ignoring Franky's protests and pleas.

Franky raced to her room, putting her body in front of her side, the dresser and bed that had been hers for 5 years. "Don't touch my stuff!" she shrieked, panic fueling her.

The social crossed her arms, tapping a foot. "This won't help you. It's happening. Cooperation can only help."

It was happening. There was no stopping it. She'd started to feel safe, settled, and thought maybe- but she was being thrown back in. The neverending cycle, homes, fosters, kids, all the bad, all the evil, so much fear, uncertainty, danger. It wasn't ending. It would never end, not ever, and her safety, Dean, was falling away from her.

I need to fix this. I can't. I need to escape. I can't. There's nothing I can do, nothing, and I will always be in danger, always adrift, and Dean-

Two creatures in space.

-isn't here to save me.

She blinked, and paths unfolded before her. 217 ways to escape. Narrow it down. 30 ways without hurting herself or anyone else. Narrow it down. 4 ways with no resistance. Down. Her eyes flicked around, noticing a lamp to turn into a taser, a bed to launch her out a window, choices, choices.

10 ways to escape with her belongings, all needing to incapacitate the two adults. Scratch.

She put her hand in her pocket. Her manikin was there. Dean would know what to grab, when he got back.

Franky moved.

…

Bella was a ruiner. It's what she did. Liv had always known this, but it had been easier to ignore, before.

It wasn't that Liv lived in fear of her older sister. That was pathetic. No, Liv just spent an alarming amount of time… avoiding her. Bella was like a caged tiger. She could be cute, even fun and playful, but if you forgot what she was, she'd rip off your arm when you went to feed her. Bella was the eldest, she was supposed to be the big sister. But she wouldn't, so the role fell to Liv. Sometimes she even followed through with it. Maude started to become absurdly self-sufficient, because of wayward mum and lethal Bella, and Liv let the job fall to the wayside. Stay out of the house, Bella's warpath, drugs and alcohol in place of a messed-up family.

Better away than there when Bella started to punch the wall and scream about dad leaving because of mum. Better away than see Bella linger while washing the dishes, cradling the butcher knife.

Then Bella finally stabbed mum with a fork, and Liv was there to drag Maude out of the room. Maude, being the mature one, had the presence of mind to dial 999. The police came, and Bella was arrested.

Liv waited for life to become what it was supposed to be. A happy family, good life, pastel colors. But it never happened. It was disconcerting, more than a little disappointing. Liv managed, shook of the disappointment and went on. Maybe her family was just too screwed up to become sunshine perfect.

And anyway, maybe it was a dumb thing to want.

So life went on. Mum was still mum, latching onto anything to fix her life, from tarot to crystals. Maude was still Maude, a little weird, coming home with old looking brass telescopes, with the helmet for a snowboard, with a flipping squirrel that one time. Always with impatient eyes, a somber scowl. Too old for her 12 years.

And Liv was still Liv. Drinking, drugs, fucking. Mini "leading", little Grace newly in tow. But life was better. It had to be without Bella around.

Then it happened.

The Malone family was having dinner, a rare sit-down dinner where all three were home. Mum made dinner, Liv and Maude set up the table. It was almost like they were a normal family.

Over dinner, mum turned to them and gave them a ghost smile. "Won't it be nice to have Bella back."

The sound went out of the world. Liv's eyes were frozen forward, her only view the pinched look on Maude's face.

Nothing. Nothing had changed. Not a single thing. Their tormenter would be back. It wasn't even that they couldn't be normal- it was that they were irrevocably broken. There was no escape. This was her life-

Two creatures in space.

-Liv closed her eyes.

.

Maude loved At-Bristol. She especially loved when they used the screens of the planetarium to play scifi movie marathons. The marathons were often 24 hour shows with a flat fee charge and you could go in and out all day. Liv would drop her off in the morning, pick her up by 11, sometimes joining her for a movie or two, and then they'd get a midnight snack before heading home.

Until the day Liv didn't show.

Maude, the forgotten, neglected Malone sister, triggered sometime around 3 AM in the morning, alone in a theatre.

She didn't know, at first. She saw the big, enormous... something, but she thought she had nodded off. She had, after all, been watching a 24 hour scifi marathon, and great big somethings fell into that category, though of course she didn't remember it. And when she was aware again, she didn't feel much different. Or if she did, the feeling was drowned out by the anger and resentment.

Maude headed home at 7 in the morning, when the 24 hour marathon was officially over. She felt a prickling in her awareness, like when you get spots in your eyes from the sun, only in her mind's eye. She ignored it, her tired brain deciding it was lack of sleep.

When she neared a mall the awareness bloomed and Maude paused, suddenly concerned. She wandered closer and the spots grew, until she was standing in front of a store display window staring at the clothing mannequins.

Maude sensed it, and she knew before she tried anything. Slowly she twitched a finger, eyes locked on the faceless mannequin.

The mannequin's arm moved.

Maude smiled.