It came as a great shock for Mrs Livingston when she opened the front door one morning to find her eldest daughter Kaitlyn standing on the front porch. On recognizing the slim, dark-haired figure Mrs Livingston clutched her hand to her heart and stumbled back a step, uttering a small squeak of surprise and fright.
"Hello mother," Kaitlyn said. "Long time no see."
Mrs Livingston leaned forward, her eyes wide with disbelief. "K- Katie...? Is that really you?"
Kaitlyn smiled. "Yeah, it really is."
But as she moved towards her mother with her arms outstretched in a warm greeting, Mrs Livingston stepped back, turning her head away in sudden fear.
With a pang of guilt Kaitlyn saw the faded burn mark on her mother's right cheek. Even after all this time it was still visible, a physical reminder of the incident that had started this whole mess. She hesitated in the doorway, arms falling limply at her sides.
"Mother..."
Mrs Livingston sniffed, wiping a hand across her face as she straightened and turned to face Kaitlyn properly, managing to put on a brave face in spite of everything.
"Well, you can't stand out here all day. Come in."
She let Kaitlyn enter, though giving her a wide berth as she shut the door behind her.
The house was almost exactly as Kaitlyn remembered it. The pale walls, the plush furniture. She could hardly believe it had been five years.
Mrs Livingston led Kaitlyn to the dining area. "Please, have a seat," she said, gesturing to the dining table. Her eyes slid away from Kaitlyn as she moved past and sat down, coming to rest on the linoleum. She seemed to want to say something, opening and closing her mouth several times, glancing at Kaitlyn nervously then quickly looking away again. Finally she seemed to compose herself, and strode purposefully behind the kitchen bench.
"Would you like a drink? Some tea perhaps...?"
Kaitlyn watched silently as her mother realised what she was saying.
"Or...maybe not...actually. I - I think we've run out of tea bags anyway...sorry."
Kaitlyn smiled reassuringly, though she could clearly see the tin full of tea-related items on the shelf behind her mother. "It's ok."
Mrs Livingston nodded and smiled back at Kaitlyn, but continued to stand in the kitchen space, seemingly unsure of what to do next.
She was trying so hard, Kaitlyn realised with a rush of sympathy. Trying to be the good host, hoping things would be ok from now on.
But how could they, when something as simple as a hot cup of tea put everyone in the room in danger. Everyone, that is, except for herself.
Kaitlyn sighed. "Please, mum, come and sit down. You don't have to do this to yourself."
Still hesitating with each step, Mrs Livingston came towards the table and slowly sat down. Even more slowly she raised her head, finally meeting her daughter's grey eyes, and stayed there.
"Do you know what's happened?" Kaitlyn asked.
Her mother nodded, licking her lips nervously. "Yes, of course. It's been all over the news these past few days. I- I didn't know quite what to think at first. This corruption...in the middle of the D.U.P. Everyone thought...well..."
"What?" Kaitlyn urged.
"You must understand," her mother implored. "We weren't given much information. It seemed like some sort of rebellion at first. The D.U.P. were made out to be the good guys, rounding up the bioterrorists and locking them away..."
Too late, Mrs Livingston stopped herself. She seemed to shrink away from Kaitlyn, gaze once again drifting downwards.
Kaitlyn stayed perfectly still. "Conduits." She said calmly. "We're called conduits, mother. And... I've changed my mind about that cup of tea." She leveled her gaze at the woman opposite. "I know you would never run out of tea bags."
Her mother nodded hastily, almost stumbling as she got up from the chair and moved back into the kitchen, putting the kettle on the boil.
Kaitlyn leaned back on the chair, letting her eyes fall shut. She could feel the steam rising from the kettle as the water boiled, making her fingers tingle.
She knew she probably shouldn't frighten her mother like that. It was unreasonable, selfish even. A small part of her felt justified however, but she couldn't say exactly why.
The sound of heels on floor made her open her eyes again as Mrs Livingston placed a steaming cup of white tea in front of her. Kaitlyn murmured a 'thank you' as her mother sat down again, noticing that she had not made a cup for herself. Kaitlyn wrapped her hands around the ceramic mug, feeling the tingling warmth spread from her fingers and up through her arms into her body.
She took a sip of the hot liquid. The steam enveloped her face, and she breathed in deeply.
Mrs Livingston placed her hands on the table, leaning forward slightly.
"Katie...there's something else I need to tell you."
Kaitlyn lowered the mug, grey eyes questioning.
Her mother drew a breath, and smiled, the first genuinely warm smile she had made that day.
"You have a sister." She said simply.
Incredulous, Kaitlyn could only stare.
"Her name's Rosie. She's just turned four years old." Her mother looked down at her interlocked fingers, then up again. "Would you like to meet her?"
Would she? Was that even a question? Kaitlyn nodded, and her mother stood.
"She's upstairs at the moment, I'll get her."
Kaitlyn turned back to her tea as her mother left. Several emotions were running through her at once, and she didn't know which one to focus on.
It had been five years. Five years since that terrible accident happened and she had been taken away by the D.U.P. Five years of imprisonment, experimentation and ruthless training, of not hearing anything from the outside world. Torn between believing what she was told and what she was feeling inside. But now she was free, she had come home, and she had a sister.
So much had changed, and yet she had a hope that everything would be alright from now on, now that she had returned home.
Her head snapped up as her mother re entered, a small figure skipping beside her, red curls bouncing.
"Rosie, this is your sister, Kaitlyn."
Rosie's small round face peeked out from behind her mother's legs, staring wide-eyed. Kaitlyn felt a smile creep on her face.
"Go on, Rosie. Go say hello."
The child slowly came towards the dining table and climbed up onto the chair next to Kaitlyn.
"Hello."
Rosie looked up shyly. Her eyes were a bright, vivid blue, the same as her mother's.
"Mummy said you had special powers." Rosie whispered.
Kaitlyn darted an angry glare at her mother, who had retreated to leaning against the kitchen bench and was watching carefully. Kaitlyn sighed, turning back to Rosie.
"That's right," she said, a little too brightly. "What else has mother said about me?"
"Will you show me?" Rosie whispered eagerly.
Kaitlyn hesitated. There was that nagging worry in the back of her mind again, painful memories surfacing. What if it got out of control?
But as she looked into her sisters eager eyes, the fear melted away. She had learned control during her years of exile. She could do this.
Kaitlyn leaned in close, grinning mischievously.
"Ok," she said. "Watch closely."
She placed her hands around the mug of tea in front of her, frowning in concentration.
The steam rising from the mug condensed and formed the image of a butterfly, pearly white and slightly translucent. It flittered delacately through the air towards Rosie, circling her once, twice, before softly dissipating into the air. Rosie gasped and clapped her hands in delight.
"Again! Again!" She cried.
Kaitlyn glanced behind her, at her mother who was standing by the kitchen bench. Mrs Livingston had her arms crossed against her chest, one hand held up towards her mouth. Her eyes were dark with fear and suspicion. Kaitlyn knew it was only for Rosie's sake that she hadn't interfered. With a sigh she turned back to her small sister.
"No, I think that's enough for now."
Rosie's face fell. "I wish I could do that," she mumbled. "It was so pretty..."
Suddenly Mrs Livingston appeared behind her, whisking the half-drunk mug away and pouring it down the kitchen sink, calling back over her shoulder.
"Rosie, why don't you go watch some tv in the lounge room?"
Kaitlyn watched her sister bounce up from the table, excited for this unexpected privilege. Something clicked inside Kaitlyn, sudden realization dawning on her. This house had been her home for most of her life, yet she no longer belonged here. She had been foolish to believe she would be welcomed back with open arms. Her mother, for all her attempts at making things as they were, would never fully accept her. She would always be treated with suspicion, as a danger to those around her. There was no point trying to explain that things were different now. They knew already; they had seen the news. But some memories could never heal. No matter how hard they tried, she knew the past could never be rewritten.
The sound of the tv echoed down the hallway as Mrs Livingston continued to watch Kaitlyn from the kitchen. She could feel her mother's eyes on the back of her head, could feel the unspoken demand. To leave, please, and never come back.
She looked down at her hands. The tingling warmth that had filled her limbs a moment ago was gone, replaced by a feeling like cold mist creeping through her veins. Her mother didn't want her here; perhaps she would find a share house, live with other conduits in the same position as her. She would build her life up again from scratch. She would give herself a purpose.
This house now, and all its memories were just that - memories, destined to fade and crumble away like a photograph in a newspaper.
There was silence in the house as Kaitlyn sat unmoving at the dining table, feeling the raw cold energy pulse through her limbs.