I had previously posted this but decided to delete the other version and fix a few things so the next few chapters would make more sense...I will be posting the second chapter as well. I do not own any of the Sanctuary characters or even the show itself, I'm just playing around... only my OC if of my creation. Enjoy! :)

I had always thought that my so-called "episodes" were what drove my mother away from me physically and emotionally, but I can't help but feel that I was wrong. She never wanted me, never even entertained the idea of having a child let alone one when she was just a child herself.

I guess I can respect that, the things that must have constantly ran through her mind…she must have been frightened. I'm not consciously trying to make excuses for her, trust me I lived the horror she put me through, but she had to have some sort of emotional connection to me, felt at least something akin to love. Or maybe I'm way far off on that mark as well.

More often then not this is where I would find myself, sitting in the back corner booth, concealed from everyone but open to my emotions. The world outside the diner window seemed to fade into the background as I continued to ruminate on my life.

Why didn't she want me?

How did it come to this?

It's just another cold and gloomy day in Old City, it had rained throughout the night, off and on into the afternoon. The streets were vacant, just about as dead as it was inside the diner, not a soul was out on the prowl on a day like today. The weather in this city always seemed to be unpredictable; one moment it would be cold and wet then the next sunny and humid. Soiled and rat infested, the city had definitely seen better days, but then again so had its residents.

I pulled away from the window as my focus shifted from the world beyond the and came to rest on my own reflection. My unruly curls were swept into a loose ponytail at the base of my neck, a few stubborn strands falling to rest on my prominent cheekbones. My lips are drawn into a pale line, a common occurrence when in deep thought, my cheeks hollowed.

God, I look like death warmed over, I thought.

I hate how sick and frail I always look, as if I never eat enough or never have enough sleep. My clothes hang off me, draping my frame, desperately clinging to my spindly limbs, trying to keep me warm.

Finally my eyes lock with their counterparts and I see just how much this session of self-pity has affected me. My normally grey-green irises are glowing an icy blue as I feel the sadness well in my stomach, churning violently. Looking down at my lap I can feel my emotions surrounding me like a warm embrace, subtly changing as the sadness slowly converts to an intense anger…a resentment that after all she put me through I still let her get to me. I quickly glance upwards and now see that my eyes are no longer blue with grief but a vibrant green with rage.

"Finn," I heard my name called gently, "Do you want me to finish the dishes?"

I turn slowly from the window to come face to face with one of my greatest friends. His name is Roberto, but I call him Berto for short, and he was…is my savior. Without him I'm not exactly certain where I would be, but I'm sure it wouldn't be here with him.

While I stand five foot six Berto towers over me at an impressive height of six foot two. His tall and lean frame may fool some people, but I know exactly how much strength those muscles possess; gentle enough to cradle me in a hug yet strong enough to pull some street urchin off me, bouncing them against the wall for good measure. His hair is darker than mine, almost black, but oh so soft to the touch; occasionally we'll sit on his couch watching movies, his head in my lap while my fingers absentmindedly run through his strands. He was the only person I had ever told about my "episodes," he knew everything.

Our relationship wasn't exactly easy to define…there were definite feelings on both ends, I couldn't walk into the same room as Berto without being enveloped in a warm feeling of assurance and love, as if sinking into a warm bath. We had talked about our feelings and our situation, where we could go from here and how we would accommodate our new relationship; we were trying to take it slow.

"You ok?" he asks tentatively and I know instantly that my eyes are still green.

I had warned him about the changing colors and what each one seemed to lead to, so he would at least know ,what type of a mood I was in when he approached me.

I smiled at him, "No worries, just thinking." I felt my eyes return to their normal color.

"Good then finish the dishes," he joked as he threw towel towards me.

As I caught the towel I stuck my tongue out at him playfully, rising from the comfort of the booth. I made my way behind the counter; just as I rounded the corner the bell over the front door dinged, signally some one had entered. I turned towards the sound, seeing an attractive couple standing just inside the doorway. I glanced at Berto, who carefully took the towel from my hands, nodding for me to see to the customers.

I greeted them cheerfully, "Welcome to Rudy's, my name is Finley and I'll be your server…go ahead and sit wherever you'd like and I'll be right with you."

The couple seemed to size up the diner conspiratorially; they were starting to make me feel nervous. The woman was about my height, with straight blonde hair, I couldn't see her face yet but a niggling feeling in the back of my mind said I knew her from somewhere. She was wearing skinny jeans tucked into black knee-high boots; a plain white shirt and black leather jacket completed the look. The closer I got to the table, the more prominent her feelings became, a kind of excited energy was hidden just below the surface. I could see her head moving slightly, constantly be scanning the place, looking for ways to escape I suspected; this made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I could see the face of the man sitting across from her, he seemed much more calm and collected; he was leant back in the booth with his arm casually draped across the back cushions. He was dressed in light wash jeans with a navy blue long sleeved t-shit; his dirty blonde hair seemed to be in casual disarray and the eyes that looked back at me though his glasses were a serene sky blue. Calm and reassurance rolled off of him in waves as if he knew what I was thinking…like he knew I was nervous.

That's when I donned on me…I froze as one of my episodes took over. I felt my body go ridged and my stare turn inward, suddenly seeing things that hadn't happened yet, but if the two people in front of me had their say, soon would.

It was a flurry of moving limbs and emotion; I could see the woman reaching under her coat and removing some type of a gun, her familiar blue eyes gazing through me. While pointing the gun at me she would defer to her partner who would attempt to calm me down, make me agreeable. In a flash of blue light I felt a sharp pain in my chest and then blessed relief as my body suddenly became weightless. I imagined my self tied up on the floor as I watched a figure I knew all too well approach my prone form, bending down to come to eye level with me.

I suddenly snapped out of my vision to see both individuals staring at me intently, both sets of eyes burning with separate types of intensity. The blonde's head was cocked slightly to the side and my eyes consciously flicked to the rather large lump under the her coat, and then back to their faces; I watched with amusement as realization and horror crossed the woman's face, she knew I knew who she was.

I felt my eyes shift colors to what I now expected was a blood red, something people didn't see very often…Berto had only seen that color twice. We still didn't know what it meant exactly but as I shifted on my feet preparing to run, I knew it would help me. I could feel my senses become heightened, my mind becoming more in sync with my physical body.

"BERTO," I shouted hysterically, "RUN!"

And with that I ducked behind the counter, barely missing the hit from the eery blue light coming from what I assumed was the blonde's gun. I saw him from the corner of my eye slip from the side door of the kitchen running down the hallway and towards the exit I knew would be located next to the restrooms.

"Will radio Mom and tell her we've got a runner!" I heard the woman growl as I took off through the kitchen, confirming my suspicions, heading straight for the back door. I could hear the heavy pounding of the blonde's boots on the linoleum as she was hot on my heels.

I burst through the back door, not paying attention to the loud cracking noise I was sure emanated from my wrist. I tried to turn the corner and slipped on the wet asphalt, clawing at the ground trying desperately to gain my footing. Finally gaining my momentum again, I took off down the alleyway, towards what I knew would be a high fence, hoping against everything that I would have the strength to climb it.

I chanced a cautious glance back to see if my pursuers were still with me and the only one I could see was the young blonde, slowly gaining on my position. I watched as she drew the weird looking gun from its holster once again and took aim for me, slowing slightly. I turned back around and darted through a line of clothes, as I watched the line of blue streak past me, barely missing my shoulder.

As I rounded the last corner I knew I was home free, all I would have to do was make it to the end and scale the fence. But as the last stretch of alleyway came into view, I stopped dead in my tracks, my chest heaving as I stared wide-eyed at the occupant at the other end.

She was dressed similarly to that of the blonde, but instead of a white shirt she wore one of dark purple. Her facial features were close to the blonde's as well, only softer and less strained. Her hair was secured back into a silver clip, wisps of it hanging into her face as if she had been in a hurry, her chest moving rapidly. My ears perked up as I heard what I assumed was Ashley stopping a few feet behind me, cocking her gun slightly. When the brunette spoke to me the calm and reassuring voice I knew so well yet hated passionately washed through my body.

"Finley," she drawled in her proper British accent, "we mean you no harm, and you know this."

I felt my eyes shift again, watching her face…her dark blue eyes for some sort of reaction, but all I got was her calm tones yet again.

"I know you're angry," ah so my eyes were now green, "but please be reasonable…"

"You swore you'd leave me alone," I interrupted her heatedly.

She took a tentative step forward, but my body tensed slightly which made her stop. She held out her hands as if to reassure me, to stall the fury I felt; I could feel the sincerity that surrounded her person as well as the remorse for bothering me. Then the feeling that always hung over her like a cloud reached my senses; no matter what state of mind she was in she always gave me this underlying feeling…and if I had to guess I would say the closest feeling would be love.

"I know darling,' I cringe at the endearment, "but I'm afraid we need your help."

I look back towards the blonde who still has her gun trained on me, and see that the man from the restaurant and whom I can only guess is Biggie strolling down the alleyway a little farther back. My eyes shift resting on hers and I see her imperceptivity release the breath she had been holding.

My eyes must be back to normal then.

I sigh heavily, and make the conscious effort to relax my body, sensing everyone's emotions calm at once.

"What can I help you with, Helen?" I ask defeated.