A/N: so this story has been hunting me for some time now and I figured it was better to get it out of my system before it kills me.

If you're following any of my other stories, not to worry, updates are on the way.

I would also like to leave a warning right now: while this story won't have the heaviness of Inevitable, these characters are full of grey areas and I won't have it with people complaining about them not being lovable or cheaters. This is fiction and I like to write characters that are not perfect. So consider yourself warned.

Credits for the title go to PeachieBaby05.

Finally thanks to the amazing Kwills 341 for beta this. Hopefully she'll have the patience to stay with me for this journey.

The day I met Siobhan Sadler could've gone down as one of the worst in my life, but instead, it marked the day I found a purpose in life. It was the day I was given the opportunity to be the ruler of my own destiny and that was no small feat, given the fact that I had just turned 18 and had been kicked out of school; being caught smoking pot at boarding school are two elements that don't go well together.

In their defense the school administration had shown an admirable amount of patience with me. My consistent tardiness to classes and habitual absence from the mandatory church prayers were often overlooked. Come to think of it, maybe the pot was the last straw; the push that made them realize I was too much trouble to keep around. Perhaps they'd reached the conclusion that I was a bad element, prone to adversely influence sensible young minds. So it was with no surprise that after Sister Martha found me smoking on the floor between two benches inside the church - oh, yeah… kinda forgot that detail - she sent me packing.

A semester short of graduating from high school and with a half empty duffle bag at my feet, I watched the heavy, forged iron gate close before my eyes. I didn't panic until the moment I heard the loud metallic sound of the latch sliding into the lock, then yes; that was the precise moment the notion of it all finally sunk in.

I was 18 and had no one to turn to. Orphaned since I was 2 years old, the only thing I had to remember my parents by was a worn out photograph. I was told my parents were blue-collar workers, living paycheck to paycheck and had had nothing to leave me when my drunken father slammed himself and my mother into large, concrete truck. Instant death. Gramma, my mom's mother took me in and did what she could. She loved me, and while she couldn't give me everything I wanted, she did give me everything I needed. Until she couldn't.

I was 9 when I attended her funeral, a ridiculously empty church for such a great woman. My gran's last hours were spent with a priest, two neighbors - equally old and there to see their not so distant future - and a child who refused to cry in public.

That same stubborn child reemerged in front of the boarding school's old gate; refusing to cry, but feeling just as lonely and lost. It was 9 years later and I had the exact same thing I had back then: a little money in a bank account from the sale of my grandmother's house and my mind. The latter had assured my admission to a prestigious school, and had seen me kicked out. The money would support me for no longer than two, maybe three years. It's a sad, sad world we live in.

Finding a job would be my first priority, of course. Although I really didn't have time to think about it. For someone who'd been on the wrong side of luck her entire life, that day, ironically, marked my turning point.

With a deep breath I bent over to grab my laughably light weight bag and turned away from the gate; swearing to myself not to lay eyes upon it again, and began my trek in the direction of the bus stop.

"What are you going to do now, chicken?"

I turned to see a woman, red scarf around her hair, leaning against a lime green, 60's convertible Thunderbird. Except for the vintage sports car, I would've thought her a mother of one of my former classmates. She was wearing one of those summer dresses, pink and bright yellow. The car and the her genuinely relaxed posture completely separated her from the women picking up their perfect little girls for a forced weekend. She lacked the stiffness that always accompanies the need to always look impeccable.

"What's it to you?" I roughly replied, not stopping.

"Well, aren't you a feisty one!" She laughed. "That's good! I could use some spark!"

I stopped in my tracks and turned around to face her completely. "Listen lady, I don't know what you're into, but I'm not looking for a sugar mama!"

The woman's smile disappeared. "Good! Because what I'm about to offer you won't be for free."

I scoffed. "And what makes you think I want something from you?"

She uncrossed her ankles and took a few steps in my direction. "I have the feeling we could help each other out, Cosima."

I remember my heart starting to beat much faster than it's supposed to and gave a few steps back, preparing myself to make a run for it, if needed be. "How the fuck do you know my name?"

With an easy smile on her lips she answered me in a calm voice. "Ways and means, chicken."

"What do you mean by that?" Alarms were still sounding inside my head, but for whatever reason, they were not as loud as a moment ago.

"That's my special skill, you see." She answered cryptically and approached me carefully. "And it just so happens that I could use someone with your special skill."

"I think you have me mistaken with someone else." My answering laugh was too loud, as it is when someone is unnerved. "I have no special skill."

She chuckled and went to rest a hand on my shoulder, but dropped it quickly as I shifted away from her. "Everyone has a special skill, Cosima; something they're really good at." She raised her hand again and this time I let her rest it on my shoulder. "I can help you develop yours, so that you can use it to your benefit."

I squinted, suspicion filling me. "Yeah? And what would I have to give you in return?"

She took the bag from my hands and threw it on the backseat of her car. "Why don't you get inside?" She said, opening the door on the driver's side and climbing behind the wheel. "I'll explain on the way?"

I snorted and made no move towards the car. "Do you really think I'm getting in the car with someone I don't even know?"

"I'm Siobhan Sadler, but you can call me Ms. S."