#Thanks for picking this story#

#Hope you like my Five, she may seam all over the place at times but really she's just confused and broken#

#And please review, love to hear what you'll think, good or bad, still love to know#

Chapter 2

"Two bacon and egg burgers hold the salad, double the hash browns," calls Dan halfway through the breakfast rush. I slip through the mass of tables and chairs to behind the counter. I sit my tray of dirty dishes on the window bench and stack the orders on a new tray and take them over to the two balding guys in the far corner booth.

"Here ya go gentlemen," I say, placing a plate in front of each man. They are definitely not gentlemen but I think gentlemen gets better tips then beer gutses that just stumbled in from the bar across the street after a few to many heavy nights. "Do you need more coffee?" I ask sweetly.

"No Dear, all good," says one man in a scruff, tired vice.

"Okay, just flag me down if ya change ya minds," I say, turning on my heels and going back to the counter.

"How the hell do you do that?" ask Bree. Bree is the newest waitress. She started three weeks after me. She's tall, pale with long black hair, green eyes and if she could learn to show up on time and stop sleeping around, she would be getting tips left right and centre with her rack.

"What?" I ask putting on another pot of coffee.

"Dan didn't even give you the number, and you know what table. I can't even remember the table when I get the number."

"Just good memory I guess." Try permanent memory. Saying I can remember every step I've ever taken might be a stretch but I can remember everything I've heard in the last month or more like it was two seconds ago. I shrug at Bree's pouted purple lips and go to take more orders. I walk to one of the larger booths that is chock-a-block full with teens. "Hi, I'm Mary and I'll be ya waitress today. Now what drinks can I get ya's?" I ask, clicking the pen to the paper and looking around at all their faces.

Blond guy, blonde girl that needs to re-dye her black roots, brunette girl, curly brown-haired guy, long black-haired guy, younger auburn haired girl, scraggly blond hair guy and- Mog, fuck, fuck, fuck! I take deep breath and look away from it.

"Just water for us all if that's, right," says the blond guy. He tries to keep his face covered with a menu likes he's a superstar trying to not be seen by paparazzi. I don't know where from but I do recognise his face…

"Sure thing darl', be right back." I spin and go back to the counter. As I get out two jugs of water and eight cups I wonder where I know that guy from… When the name hits me I almost drop the stack of glasses. JOHN SMITH! He was on news headlines the week I felt the charm break. I had told myself that he was Guard, but he couldn't be, he's with a Mog… and a bunch of teenagers that could be the other Guard. Oh fuck!

"You okay Mar? You look pale," asks Emma, grabbing a coffee jug in one hand and placing the other hand on my shoulder, bringing me back to reality.

"Oh, I'm fine Em, just caught in my thoughts for a second." I smile and pull away from her. I take the tray of water and glasses back to the table, I manage to keep my hands steady until I reach the table again and see the Mog look me up and down. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I didn't cover my scars this morning, of all days, fuck! I keep up the fake smile and sit the two jugs and stack of glasses on to the table. "So what ya's wantin' to eat?" I ask in the steadiest voice I can manage.

"What's good?" asks the black-haired guy, with what he must think is a charming smile but it so doesn't cover the fact he's staring at my rack.

"Worker's omelettes are the special today, they got tomato, mushrooms, shallots, bacon, everything but the kitchen sink in 'em, and it comes with a stack of hash browns." Somehow my fake southern accent gets thicker the more nervous I get.

"Eight specials then, please," says the trying-to-be-blonde girl with a quick glare to the black-haired guy.

"Sure thing, be back soon." I spin and go call the order back to Ben. I steal a quick glance back to the booth where the might-be Loric are and see them all whispering among themselves with a slight glance my way.

"Mar." I flinch and look back around to see Dan smirking at me, but I see worry in his eyes.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Mum says it's your break, burgers getting cold." I sigh slightly in relief and go through the push doors into the kitchen. "Here Mar," says Dan, handing me a plate with a tower of a burger on it.

"I might just take this out back and get some fresh air, 'kay babe?"

"You got ten minutes Mar, you spending that eating or talking?" snaps Trish as she marches past with a stack of plates in her arms.

"Okay, yell out back if I ain't back in time" I say as I practically run out the back door. I don't feel like I could stomach food right now and quick step upstairs to my apartment. I flick the keys from my bra and quickly go inside and slam the door behind me. I toss the burger on the small kitchen bench and start throwing everything into my duffle bags.

Why now? When I finally have something they find me? Maybe I'm over reacting? Or under reacting. That Mog was right next to me, it could have killed me! But it didn't, why didn't it? As I finish packing and zip my bags I'm brought out of my thoughts by a knock on the door.

I take a deep breath "Who is it?" Please don't say Mog, wait why the fuck would he call himself Mog? And why the fuck would he admit that to me if I asked?

"It's Emma, Trish says ta get your ass back downstairs." I breathe a sigh of relief and open the door to see Emma-Jay, just Emma-Jay.

"Okay, just got to lock up, get back before she has your head too," I say re-grabbing my keys from my bra and locking the door. Emma goes back inside as fast as her black stilettos will take her.

I put my keys away and ready myself for a fight as I walk back to the kitchen. It's only one Mog, I can kill him with my eyes closed, but if that was John Smith, and I'm pretty fucken sure it was, why the fuck was he with a Mog?

"Ah Mar eight specials are waiting," says Ben as I enter the kitchen.

"Right on it," I say on my way through the kitchen and out to the tables. The people and Mog in the booth haven't moved and instantly look up to see me, but I quickly turn to the serving window and start balancing the two large trays. I have to concentrate on keeping my hands steady with telekinesis so I can walk towards my impending doom. I look no-one in the eyes as I place the trays on the table edge and pass the plates about.

"Thank-you," says blond guy and I get a better look at his face and he is 100% John Smith.

I tuck both the trays under my left arm and pull out my notebook and pen. John Smith I write on one piece of paper and tear it off and stick it in between my fingers for a second, then on the next piece of paper I write Mogadorians. I take off the second piece of paper and put them both on the table.

#Hope you have a nice day/ or night, thanks for reading and please review#