A/N: I'm thinking I'm going to condense this into one story rather than making sequels, so this story needed a name change. Title comes from a song by Tyler Blackburn.

Aiden drives me to school in silence the next morning. I can tell he's still upset about yesterday, and our drive is tense. He won't look at me. When we get to King High, we still have twenty minutes until our first classes, so I let my guilt convince me to grab his arm and stop his progress before we can get through the front doors of the school. I look around for Patrol guards but don't see any. "Can we talk?"

He fixes me with a glare and rolls his eyes. "I need to get to class."

"We're early. Please?" I give him the most pleading look I can muster and he grudgingly agrees, letting me pull him around to where a grassy knoll overlooks the parking lot where his car is parked. I sit down beside him and watch him survey the area around us with a tight jaw and tensed everything. I let out a sigh, noting the barely-hidden bruise on his cheek for what must be the tenth time since I got into his car this morning. "Are you mad because I got you hurt? Because I'm really sorry; I really didn't mean for-"

"No, Ash," he sighs out, shaking his head and still not looking at me. "You're fine. Stop apologizing."

"No," I counter forcefully. "I screwed up. I know that. I always screw up. I shouldn't keep putting you in situations like that, especially because you always take the bigger beating. So I'm sorry."

We fall into silence as I let him take in my apology, but he doesn't visibly relax at all. I don't know what else to say to fix things. I can't tell what's bothering him anymore.

Finally, he sighs and shakes his head again. "It doesn't matter how much you screw up. I'm supposed to protect you."

"You do," I point out. "I was half-dead before you stepped in, remember?" I tell him with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn't work.

"Exactly." He grits his teeth and if possible, his jaw tightens even more. "He had his hand wrapped around your throat and I couldn't do a thing about it."

I watch him silently. I don't know what to say to that. "Well-"

"It is what it is," he cuts me off, meeting my gaze with his own. He looks frustrated. "Don't try to make me feel better. Bottom line, I'm supposed to keep you safe. Forget the fact that we aren't a real couple like they try to force us to be; I'm still responsible for your safety. And I wasn't enough. I'm never gonna be enough when you're up against those guys. And the thing is, Ash… you don't stop. You keep coming at them, like you're not even afraid. What if one day you finally push too hard and I can't-?" He stops there, swallows, and then shakes his head one last time, getting to his feet. "You know… Sometimes I think I am where I am for a reason. Other times I wonder if neither of us should be where we are right now."

He starts to leave and I get up hastily. "Wait, what? What does that even mean?"

He doesn't answer; just leaves me alone in front of King High, confused and cold as the December wind whips my hair about my face.

Three days and several headache-inducing but disappointingly uninformative dreams later, Madison goes missing. It's a Friday, and given the way she only grew more shifty and fidgety as the days went by, it's not surprising logically. Emotionally, I feel like my heart's heavy and frozen in my chest, and my brain can't wrap itself around the idea that Madison was here and now she's just… gone. We weren't the closest of friends but she was a familiar face, and I liked her. I could talk to her, and that's special in itself.

Chelsea, Aiden, and I assume that it was Patrol at first, and that Madison got involved with something she shouldn't have, because any time someone randomly doesn't show up to school it's usually because they've been taken away to have who-knows-what done to them. That assumption changes by Friday afternoon, around the time I'm walking down the hallway and suddenly find myself seeing stars. I find out later I was slammed headfirst into a locker.

The same Patrol guard from the lunchroom is standing over me when my vision finally clears, and behind him stands a semi-circular crowd of stunned students who watch with wide eyes but make no move to help me. As usual.

"Care to explain what happened to your friend?" he growls, moving his face close to mine while I'm still trying to blink away the last few stars. "I know you know, little girl."

"What are you talking about?" I mutter, squinting at him as my head starts to throb. It's been extra-sensitive lately due to my dreams and I know this definitely won't help it. It'll probably ache for days now. "She was taken."

"Don't lie to me," he murmurs lowly. I find myself being hoisted to my feet and pressed against a wall as the smell of warm, rancid breath invades my senses. I try hard not to wince. He's disgusting.

"I'm not lying. Are you saying you don't know where she is? So she's safe, then?" I don't hide the pleasure in my tone and it only angers him further. He swivels away from me and his eyes land on Chelsea, who's standing amongst the students looking on. Without warning, he stalks over and yanks her out of the crowd and out into the open with me, drawing the gun at his belt. I recognize it immediately; it's one of the ones that can vaporize with one shot. He points it at Chelsea, who instinctively tries to move away, but he grabs her and holds it against her head.

"Start talking or I'll shoot her."

Fear grips me and I open and close my mouth, watching Chelsea stare back at me with terror. If they won't believe that I don't know anything, I'll have to make something up, or else risk Chelsea's life.

Before I can answer, a commotion starts in the crowd and I see two more Patrol guards hurry forward to subdue what turns out to be Aiden and another boy -Chelsea's Mate- who evidently haven't taken kindly to the current situation. They end up being led into our little opening with their hands forcibly held behind their backs by men several times stronger than either of them. Aiden's face is beet-red and I know how much it must be killing him that he can't help me. Chelsea's Mate only has eyes for her, and he's breathing so hard it's all I can hear right now save for my pulse thundering in my ears.

"Well?" the Patrol guard holding Chelsea presses. "Turn in your friend at once or you'll lose the one you have left."

"Let her go," I demand, putting on a brave face as best as I can manage. "If you're gonna shoot someone, why not just shoot me?"

He stares me down wordlessly instead of answering that, and finally repeats, "Talk."

He doesn't budge. I guess it's time to wing it and hope that what I say sounds somewhat plausible. "She-"

"Clay!"

A third girl fights her way out of the crowd and over to us, and I can't help thinking that she must be incredibly stupid. She goes to Chelsea's Mate, who must be named Clay, and I hear him speak to her through gritted teeth.

"Spencer, stay out of this."

"What's going on? You haven't done anything, tell them to let you go…"

That makes four people that've managed to be dragged into this mess. Four lives I'm now responsible for. Great.

"Alright," I finally start, causing everyone to return their attention to me. I face the Patrol guard holding Chelsea, and for the first time, look at the name on the badge sewn into his uniform. "Officer Sloan… why don't we compromise? You let everyone here get back to their lives, and I'll tell you everything I know." He doesn't like that idea, if his grip tightening on Chelsea is any indication. I try to hide how much I'm panicking on the inside by remaining as cool as possible on the outside. "If you shoot her, you can forget me talking. That goes for you shooting anyone. C'mon, let's do this in private. I can't tell you what you want to know in front of all these people, anyway."

To my surprise, he immediately tosses Chelsea aside, but I quickly realize it's only so he can grip me instead. He nods to the other guards and they release Aiden, and then Clay, much to the relief of Clay's blonde friend. However, Clay quickly brushes her off to check and make sure Chelsea's okay. I can tell Aiden wants to come to me, but one glare from me tells him to stay put. Sloan speaks to me gruffly as his nails dig painfully into my arm. "Very well, then. Come with me. We'll go somewhere we can talk without prying eyes and ears, and the rest can stay here." He starts to lead me away, and then hesitates, turning back to the other two guards. "On second thought, grab one. Just in case."

The other two guards exchange looks, and then one haphazardly grabs at the girl I've never met before. Clay breaks away from Chelsea, then, shouting, "Hey! That's my sister!"

One of the guards laughs as he drags the terrified blonde girl away. "Sure she is. I can definitely see the resemblance."

"She'll be back soon, don't worry," the other one adds, a mocking edge to his voice. "Probably…"

I grit my teeth and let myself be led down hallway after hallway, three sets of footsteps just behind me as the other girl continuously insists that she hasn't done anything wrong. That's how it works with Patrol, I want to tell her. Everyone's in the wrong place at the wrong time.

We eventually come to an office that I assume to be Sloan's. The room is full of filing cabinets that look to contain student records, but I don't have any more time to observe my surroundings before I'm roughly shoved inside and the three guards and the girl join me. The door is slammed shut and both I and my fellow captive are given free roam around the room as the two guards move to block the closed door. Sloan draws his gun again, holding it casually. "Now, where-?"

"Let me out of here," the other girl demands, cutting him off with more bravado than I admittedly thought she had. "I'm not a part of any of this, and neither is my brother."

"Your brother has a Mate who has been involved with people she shouldn't have been," Sloan growls, clearly unappreciative of her interruption. "If he did not want to put his loved ones in danger, he should have better monitored their actions. Instead, he gave his Mate free roam to spend time with the likes of Madison Duarte and this one." He gestured towards me as though I'm trash.

"He doesn't even know her," the girl protests. "And neither do I."

I don't like her. "Ashley Davies," I inform her casually. "Now you know me. Oops."

She looks to me as though I've betrayed her. I imagine she felt like we were in this together, and for a brief moment I feel guilty enough to shrug apologetically.

"Quit stalling," Sloan interrupts. "Where is Madison Duarte?"

"Dead," I say rapidly, struggling once again to form a plausible story. Sloan raises a disbelieving eyebrow and I realize I've over-fabricated. Shit. "Once you find her, I assume," I correct hastily. "She's decided to run."

"To where?" He looks concerned. There we go. I've hooked him. Now I just have to reel him in.

"I'm not sure. She got quieter, more secretive towards the end. But every now and then she'd bring up an idea…"

"Yes?"

"She wanted out," I tell him. "She thought there was more out there, than… than this. So she went looking for it. I think she'd have preferred to be anywhere else, feeling and seeing anything else other than this."

"She said this to you?"

"No." I shake my head. "But I could see it in the way she acted. She didn't like conforming. Always had hope that things might change one day. I guess she finally decided she should try to make her own change."

He looks displeased by my answer, but not unaccepting or disbelieving. "So she gave you no indication of where she could be headed. None at all?"

"No, but I'd guess it's somewhere she thinks you won't find her."

"Such as…?"

I struggle for an answer that would make sense. "…I'm not sure…"

Quirking an eyebrow, he raises his gun and points it in the other girl's direction. She shrinks back and I hastily step between them. "Wait! There was something… a man! A man who said he could take her to safety. He knew the route. There were people that would help her along the way. In the city. I'm not sure who but-"

"Are you saying there's a group of people helping to smuggle citizens out of the city right under our noses?" he demands furiously. I swallow hard, nodding, and he immediately swivels around to face the other two guards. "Morgan! Sanders! Report this to the Commander at once!" They leave without another word and Sloan looks to me and Blondie, his expression harsh. "I will ensure that this is investigated to the full extent of our forces. But if I hear about anything that was said in this room from anyone else, I'll know you two were the source."

"We'll keep it quiet," I assure him, giving his gun a fearful look for good measure. He hesitates for a moment, but seems to decide there are more pressing matters to deal with than two teenage girls, and hastily leads us out of the office, slamming the door shut behind us and locking it. Blondie folds her arms over her chest the second Sloan's disappeared down the hallway, and raises an eyebrow at me.

"You were completely bullshitting him, weren't you?"

She looks too proud for my liking and I answer sarcastically, "Whatever could have given it away?"

"Well, you literally just described the Underground Railroad, for one thing. The first part was good, though, with all the waxing poetic about wanting to see if there's something more than what's here. What'd you steal that from?"

"Me," I tell her curtly.

She doesn't seem to know how to respond to that. Finally, she gives me a scrutinizing look. "Ashley Davies, hmm? I think I've heard that name before."

"Unsurprising," I reply, unfazed. "You'll find Patrol and I have this little game we play. I annoy them and they hunt me down and then threaten me within an inch of my life. Then we wait a month or two and do it again."

"Right." She thinks I'm strange; I can tell. "Well, next time leave my brother and I out of it, okay?"

"Is he really your brother?" I ask her, disbelieving. "I don't know a lot about genetics, and I hate to break it you, but I think something might be a little off there."

"He was adopted," she tells me wryly. "I don't remember it actually happening; apparently we were really young, though. We grew up together."

"Fascinating." Satisfied that she isn't traumatized or otherwise injured in any way, I now know my work here is done and feel comfortable enough to leave her here. "Well, it's been great, whatever-your-name-is…"

"Spencer," she corrects. "Spencer Carlin."

"I didn't ask."

"Neither did I," she retorts simply.

"Yes, you did. You said, 'Ashley Davies, hmm?' I know our memories suck but yours can't be that bad."

"Very funny. And I meant the first time you told me your name."

"Whatever." I start to leave but she calls me back.

"Hey."

Sighing, I peer around at her, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"

She bites her lip, then gives me a short nod, serious now. "You stepped in front of me earlier, when he pointed that gun at me. Thanks for that."

I stare at her for a moment. I don't think I've ever seen someone show gratitude toward me so openly, and I've bailed a few people out of a few shitty situations in the last six months, to say the least. For a brief moment, I wonder if we'll run into each other again now that we've exchanged names. Maybe I could grow to like her.

"Yeah, okay. No problem." I nod at her and then disappear down the hallway, silently wondering how ridiculous it would be to even entertain the possibility that I've made a new potential friend today.