The first time Juliette looked into her daughter's eyes, she felt something strange. It was as if she was staring at a mirror, looking directly into her own eyes but still having that odd sense of unfamiliarity within the familiarity, however that was possible. Her bright, green eyes dazzled her from the moment she laid her eyes on the fragile human being (although she wasn't entirely a human being) resting against her chest. Her name was Jane Warner. And she had a gift.
Jane wasn't quite sure what was happening to her at first. She didn't understand why people gasped and stared in utter amazement every time her mother touched her. It all seemed so silly for young Jane. Was there a new law that banned mothers from carrying their own children? Were young girls considered dangerous? It wasn't until she reached the age of nine that she understood why. Her parents had kept the truth away for too long. Yes, she did know that there were people who had 'powers' or 'gifts' or whatever they were universally known as. But she didn't know that she had a gift, too. She had it all along.
"Mo-om," Jane sang, walking towards the front porch of their house. "Can I please go out?" She clasped her hands over her mother's arm and shook her violently, abruptly waking her up.
Juliette yawned and ran the side of her hand along Jane's cheek, and then said, "It isn't safe to go out, Jane. Maybe in the morning."
As a response, Jane groaned and stormed back into the house. It had been more than twenty years since it all happened. One would think that the mayhem was finally gone and peace reigned throughout the world, but there would always be people who'd try to reestablish the world that was once reestablished by others. However, things were definitely better. The Reestablishment was turned into a void of nothingness and replaced by a new kind of government run by the man himself, Aaron Warner. As much as he hated to take the position of his ruthless father, he had no choice. He had a vision and he was determined to turn that vision into a reality.
And especially with his family, the most precious thing in his life, he vowed to turn society from the mess it had been for years into a place of freedom and equality. He didn't want his only child to experience the horrors Juliette had gone through. He didn't want her to live that part of the past. He just wanted her to be safe.
Now Warner was sitting in the living room, talking to a few officials about his plans for the future. He watched her daughter storm by him, her long, brown hair draped over her shoulders like a waterfall, and her fists clenched and clipped to her sides.
"Jane," Warner called, motioning with his hand for her to come over. "I'd like you to meet some of my friends."
She stopped in her tracks and turned her head to forcefully smile at him. "Hello," she said, and quickly added, "Goodbye" before she slammed shut the door to her bedroom.
Warner quickly apologized to his friends. "You know how fifteen-year olds are," he said with a hard laugh. His friends laughed along with him, and Warner made it seem like he easily dealt with this every day, but his eyes kept darting to Jane's door. He had to check on her.
He stood, but was pulled back down when a gentle hand brushed behind his neck. He looked up. Juliette. She smiled at him quickly and nodded at his friends. To Warner, she whispered, "She hates me."
"No one can hate you, love," he murmured, landing a quick peck on the back of her hand. Juliette smiled brightly at this. He'd never stopped calling her 'love'. The word had stuck to her. Every time she'd hear it spoken from his lips, she felt like she was falling in love with him all over again.
"You want to go check on her?" she asked.
He nodded. "Excuse me," he said to his friends, and then walked to Jane's room. He felt like he was walking into a battlefield. Trying to cheer up his own daughter now seemed worse than the war a few years ago. Those wars were better because he was certain he would find a way to win, but cheering up a fifteen-year old did not guarantee anything.
"What do you want?" Jane snapped as soon as Warner entered her cozy bedroom and quietly shut the door behind him. She was sitting on her queen-sized bed, hugging her legs to her chest, and resting her head on her knees. "I think I made it clear that I'm not in the mood to meet people."
"Jane," he sighed as he ran her fingers over the pile of journals on top of her drawer. It was something that she and her mother had in common. They'd both be scribbling away whatever was they felt. "What's wrong?"
Jane looked up and stared in horror. She abruptly jumped from her bed and swatted her father's hands away from her journals. "These are private," she sneered. "You may have figured out Mom by reading her journal, but you can never figure out me!"
Warner felt like a dagger was pierced into his chest. He regretted that, but how else could he have fallen in love with her? "I'm not going to read those," he replied gently. "I just want to understand you, Jane. Tell me what's on your mind."
"And what, you're going to walk away and forget everything I've told you?" she said with a scoff. She dismissively waved her hand in the air and added, "Like you'd even care."
"But I do," he wanted to say. He did care. He cared about her as much as he cared for Juliette.
Something kept pulling him away from finally saying that he did. Maybe it was just because he wasn't quite sure how he should say it. Or maybe he was too ashamed of admitting that he did. He groaned and plopped himself down at the foot of her bed. He then rubbed his forehead in frustration and kept his eyes closed. He was doing a terrible job of being a father. He should stay home. He should talk to his daughter. He should spend more time with her…and Juliette. His work was serious and he was acting serious with his job, but he didn't appear to be serious about his family.
"Jane," he murmured. "I don't know what's going on in your head."
"Not my fault your gift is suckish," she replied, rolling her eyes skyward.
"I want to understand you," Warner said. "And I'm so, so sorry if I haven't been here for you. I want to be a better father. I want you to feel that."
"Is it because you're afraid you're turning out like your father?" she sharply said. "Because yeah, maybe you are."
"Jane -."
She held her hand out to stop him. "If you just wanted a life with Mom, you should've thought about that first before you two had sex and brought me into this hellhole."
"Jane, you know that's not -."
"Every time you come home, you're all 'Juliette, love'!" she exclaimed. "What about me, Dad? What do I get? I can't even get out of this house!"
"It's dangerous outside," Warner tried to explain.
"It's your job not to make it dangerous," she pointed out.
"It's my job to care about you," he groaned, clenching his fists.
"And you're not doing it very well." With that, she climbed outside the window and ran.
Warner shouted for her to stop, but once he looked out the window, Jane was already sitting inside the front seat of a pickup truck, now accelerating as it drove away. In anger, he pounded his fist on the wall, making the picture frames rattle and fall from their hooks. He shouted at the ceiling until Juliette came rushing inside. She took him in her arms and cradled his head on her lap as they both sat on their lost daughter's bed. She cooed him and told him it was going to be fine, even though deep inside she knew she was lying. Even Juliette, the girl who once felt the same way as her daughter, did not know how to find her daughter.
Juliette found herself her way. Jane had to do the same.
