*11 years later*

"An bhfuil tú cinnte gur mian leat é seo a dhéanamh?" Are you sure you want to do this? Jack asks, his voice carrying the Irish lilt from years of lessons from Kim.

"Uimh." No. Kim replies, keeping her gaze on the pot in front of her.

"Ní gá duit a." You don't have to.

"Is ea is féidir liom." Yes I do. Kim is now 15, Jack is 17. Her hair still falls to the small of her back in a honey waterfall, but she prefers to keep it braided over her shoulder. She has been told she is beautiful, that she takes after her mother, which she knows is true. Just not the mother that everyone else knew. "Ní féidir liom a choinneáil ar a bheith ina ar dhíthreabhach í." I can't keep being a recluse.

"Is féidir le Mam a choinneáil ag múineadh sa bhaile agat." Mom can keep homeschooling you. Jack's voice has taken a pleading edge, desperate to protect Kim.

"Tá mé cúig déag, is gá dom a bheith chaired." I'm fifteen, I need to have friends.

"You have me!" Jack abandons Irish in a hopeless plea.

"You're my brother, you have to like me. I need to know I can make my own friends." Kim follows him into English, her accent jumbling with the British one she has adopted before she corrects it to strictly British.

"Your adopted brother. You were my friend before that, remember?"

"Jack! I'm going to school whether you like it or not."

"Fine, but I'm going to protect you whether you like it or not." Jack too, has grown. His frame has filled out; hours in the fields, combined with hours of combat training, has made him a six foot one wall of muscle. He still wore his hair shaggy, the tips of it brushing the nape of his neck in the back and his eyebrows in the front. Kim grins and hugs him, her head resting on his chest.

"I know you will." She lets go and grabs the pot off the stove, pouring its contents into two bowls. "Bricfeasta a sheirbheáil." Breakfast is served. Jack grins and slurps down the soupy oatmeal that has been poured into his bowl. Kim is going to school with me.

*About an hour later*

Kim braces herself, staring at the school house as she pulls her lilt into the deepest parts of her mind and her British accent to the forefront. "Oh mo dhia." Oh my God. She breaths, scurrying to catch up to Jack. "What if they don't like me?" She murmurs, half to herself, half to Jack. "What if they hate me?!" Jack places a hand on her shoulder, rubbing her bicep like he used to when they were children. It always calmed her then, and it managed to calm her now.

"They have to like you, you're you." He replies, pulling her chin up to look at him. "Plus, I can kick their butts if they don't." He grins and pulls her to the school's front. "Now come on. I've got some people I want you to meet."

*A few minutes later*

"Jerry," Jack motions to a Hispanic boy of about 16, with raven hair, "This is Kim. Kim, this is Jerry. Milton," He motions to a bird-like boy, about his own age, with red hair that has been neatly trimmed, "meet Kim."

"Hola chica, tύ estἁs muy bonita." The Hispanic boy, Jerry, says in a sultry Spanish accent.

"Dude, she's my sister. You just met her and you're already hitting on her?" Jack cuffs Jerry lightly on the head.

"What did he say?" Kim whispers, her knowledge restricted to Irish and English only.

"Hi girl, you're very pretty.' Just a heads up, Jerry's a bit of a flirt." Blood rushes to Kim's face as a blush colors her cheeks.

"Inis dom rud éigin Níl a fhios agam" Tell me something I don't know. Kim shoots back with a playful tone, attempting to beat Jerry at his own language game.

"What?" Jerry's face is a picture of confusion as he looks to Milton.

"She said 'tell me something I don't know." Milton offers in a thick Scottish brogue. He offers his hand to Kim. "Milton McKrumpnic of the McKrumpnic clan. I'm this thing's," He motions loosely at Jerry, "tutor and translator, given that he doesn't like to obey authority or speak English." Milton shoots a pointed look at Jerry.

"Ay, Spanish is the language of love." He wiggles his bushes of eyebrows at Kim, warranting the punch in the shoulder that Jack proceeds to give him.

"Seriously, lay off. It's getting creepy." Undetected by the others, a hint of anger creeps into Jack's voice. She's MY sister. He isn't allowed to talk to her like that. One half of his mind snapped. But then a smaller, quieter part interjects, Neither are you.