A/N: Here we go again, everybody! I struggled with this one, so please do let me know feedback/suggestions as we go along. Thanks! :)

Outlines of the Heart

Chapter 1

The darkness engulfed the run-down house and the young boy had to blink his chocolate-colored eyes several times to adjust his vision. The little light that peeked through came from the dim lamp posts outside, casting jagged shadows through the broken windows. The day was nearly ending out there.

Ma-Ti shivered a little and took a deep breath, covering his bare arms with clammy hands. The breeze that came in was sharp and he suddenly thought that the people who slept here would need heavy blankets to face the night. If there was anyone there, the Indigenous boy frowned to himself, sidestepping the pieces of turned over furniture on the floor.

"Hello?" he voiced, cupping his hand over his mouth so that his voice would project further. Ma-Ti blinked when there was no answer to his call. Maybe they had gotten there too late, and perhaps there was little they could do now. The more optimistic part of him told him to keep searching, for the Planeteers always managed to do something positive once they got on any scene. He was proud to be a part of the team, in fact. They were all such different pieces that made up the puzzle, but when they came together, they were unstoppable. Maybe that was the key to their success. His partners had been drafted from the various continents and each one of them contributed a different quality to the team. He, himself, brought the heart part. Growing up, he had always been extra attentive to others and their emotions. Things would affect him more deeply than the other children in the village, and he'd developed a sensitivity to suffering that was beyond his years. It could be a gift or a curse, arguably, but the ring he had received suited him perfectly, and he controlled it with ease. That, mixed with the traits found in the other members, composed the team in a way that was effortless. Leadership, logic, strength and perseverance. Naturally, these characteristics often became interchangeable between the five teenagers, who, in reality, were barely that anymore. Wheeler, the oldest member, was now twenty-two, and Ma-Ti was a month away from celebrating his eighteenth birthday.

His musings on the passage of time were cut short when he noticed two irregular shapes on the floor. Ma-Ti's heart picked up its beating when he realized it was people, lying unmoving by the dirty, dusty sofas thrown against the thin walls. How, then, had he not felt them? The answer to his own query caused his whole body to shake and he neared them. He wanted to flee, for he did not have a good premonition about this discovery, but he forced his legs to move closer for inspection, all the same.

The boy crouched beside the unmoving bodies, swallowing his anxiety. He moved the man slightly and gasped when he saw a perfect bullet hole in his forehead. Tears started to spring up in his eyes when noticed that the man was young, far too young for such a horrible fate. Beside him was a woman, and Ma-Ti turned her on her back with shaky movements. She had been shot in the stomach, and Ma-Ti felt a wave of nausea cloud over his vision. He became acutely aware of the smell of blood now, irony and sickeningly sweet. He was about to turn away from the devastating scene when he noticed the slightest movement from the blankets wrapped closely against the woman's chest. Ma-Ti breathed deeply through his mouth and gently reached his hand to the bundle.

With great surprise, he discovered a baby, slightly moving its tiny arms about, as if fighting off the thick circle of blankets surrounding it.

" Oh!" gasped the young boy, taken off guard. He met the child's eyes and saw the fine dark hair curling at the ends, but could see little else for the infant was crushed to its mother's lifeless chest.

"Come on, little one," Ma-Ti tried to put as much courage into his voice as was humanly possible, and he reached for the child, before cradling the bundle close to him. No wailing sounds or crying could be heard from the infant in his arms, just some soft babbling sounds now and again, and Ma-Ti nearly ran outside, turning his back on the death before his eyes. Nothing could be done there now, they were too late. The child was warm against his chest, diffusing hope throughout the young Planeteer, and he was glad for it. It helped him feel less useless, less lonely.

Linka was the first to spot Ma-Ti rushing out of the shabby building, and she let out a breath she did not know she was holding. The others were either talking to the police officers surrounding the scene (they'd become well-acquainted over the many emergencies they faced in the American capital) or offering the more elderly refugees a drink of water.

The blonde Russian girl bit her lip distractedly, almost missing the days when all they had to worry about was an oil spill or deforestation. The last year in particular had been filled with social problems of a more critical nature, and thus more trying for their emotions. Teen prostitution, gang activity, bullying, child poverty. There were days they were so tried and triggered they could barely exchange two words to each other, but the amazing thing about their group was that they were there for one another in all ways possible. Friends first and coworkers second, sort of a thing. Sometimes it was a mere look or a hug, or someone handing you your favorite candy bar that could turn the day around.

Linka smiled a little and hugged her arms closer to her lean frame. Even though her head hurt from the hours of research she'd synthesized to the others earlier, she was proud of her involvement in the group. She thrived on feeling needed and useful, and loved working long hours, for the exhaustion gave her that extra boost she needed to remain interested, connected.

That week, they were involved in a human trafficking ordeal the police was trying to crack. It was thought that organized crime had a little something to do with the group of illegal immigrants coming mainly from Romania. They were being used for shady dealings and some of them were being killed off mercilessly soon after, disposed of like plastic in the environment.

Linka neared Ma-Ti and was about to ask him what he was carrying when she noticed two things. One, the young boy looked distraught, his eyes wide and full of questions. He was not his usual calm self and this was worrying. Out of all of them, Ma-Ti was the least likely to panic or go overboard, and they all secretly drew strength from that. Look, you don't see Ma-Ti freaking out, they would repeat to themselves like a mantra, and it worked to ease their nerves more often than not.

The second thing the attractive girl noticed was a pair of small fists pounding the air from the bundle of blankets Ma-Ti was holding close to his body. The blankets were dirty and she noticed with horror they were slightly stained with blood.

Bozhe moi!, thought Linka in her native tongue, unsure of whether she'd said it out loud. With quick strides she walked up to her young friend, curiously peeking at what was occupying his arms. Impatiently, her hands moved the rough fabric aside and her green eyes met the striking blue ones of a small child.

Filled with wonder, Linka uttered a few more Russian words while immediately relieving Ma-Ti of the light package in his arms. She ran a careful finger over the child's cheeks, they were stained with light streaks of dirt, before caressing one small hand. The little fingers latched on to hers and Linka smiled warmly. The baby's little mouth was wet and plump and simply precious, too.

"Where did you come from, eh, little one?" Linka cooed, shaking her head a little. The child smiled for a moment, seeming content and not at all alarmed. There was a sense of peace surrounding that small creature, Linka noted silently, moving aside the heavy fabric to expose a too-small pink jumpsuit. The color was darkened with dirt, but on the left side Linka could still make out a teddy bear design sewed on, along with a name etched into the fabric below it. Anna.

Ma-Ti followed the Russian girl's eyes and opened his mouth to speak. "It's a girl!"

Linka would have laughed at his outrageous expression had it not been such a delicate, tender moment.

"Anna," she sighed, taking to rocking the child back and forth in her arms, ever so gently. "She is beautiful."

Linka was surprised at the awe in her voice. She had never been very good at dealing with unexpected rising emotion, so she added nothing more. Silently, however, she wondered at the immediate bond she felt to the unknown, little girl in her arms and what it all meant.