Chapter Fourteen: Spare Some Change

"What kind of idiot downloads YouTube videos on their computer?" John burst out angrily.

"Well, 'idiot' might be a relative term. Under different circumstances, he could be a genius," Charlene objected thoughtfully.

"Ha-ha," John replied mirthlessly. "This is a disaster! How am I going to deal with the students? Their parents?"

"Just tell them what you had planned to tell them. We're not at fault—we didn't breach our contract. The media found out because of some kid who doesn't quite understand the way the Internet works," argued Charlene. "None of that was the Institute's fault."

Only a day had passed since the news broke out that the students at the Barden Institute were more 'exceptional' than they were letting on. Thanks to the one lucky (or unlucky) insomniac who had downloaded a YouTube video showing what was happening in Saint John's Island mere minutes before the site was hacked and the video deleted, and posted it on his blog with the descriptive albeit inaccurate title, 'Monsters Swarm Mexican City But No One Remembers—WTF?!' most of the world now knew about the Barden students.

"Gotta admire his flair for writing though," Charlene muttered sarcastically as she scrolled through the blog post for the nth time. They hadn't bothered taking it down after it went viral, since that would only attract more attention to the matter. "'I thought it was a dope new movie teaser from Marvel—you know, guerrilla marketing shit'," she read aloud with a shake of her head. "And he spelled it 'gorilla' like the animal."

"If only his tragic spelling was enough to distract from what he just unleashed," sighed the Professor.

Despite the alarm with which the people at Barden dealt with their discovery, the existence of people with special powers was not exactly earth-shattering news. It had been known for quite a few decades in the United States—although 'known' might be too light a word to describe the experience.

Since the first attempt at regulating them, fewer and fewer people with powers were inclined to make themselves known. And with conspiratorial rumors of secret experiments in underground laboratories, to play it safe they dropped off the radar completely, leaving no explanation of their powers. As such, over the years their existence gradually devolved into an urban myth. That is, to those who were not in the loop.

While majority of the public lost interest in chasing fantastical stories of superhuman beings, some—like John Smith and the U.S. government—had never completely let it go. So years later when strange things started happening again, rather than create another missed opportunity, they kept things under wraps. The rumors of powerful humans being experimented on in secret labs still continued, but for over a decade there had been peace (Chloe's case notwithstanding).

So, while it was a surprise to find that the rumors were half-true, the real earth-shattering news was that there were institutions like Barden that organized and trained these people. And that frightened a lot of people.

John was brought out of his thoughts by a knock on the door.

"Professor?" said Luke. "We're all ready."

John looked up and nodded wearily. It was a scene reminiscent of the one just a few months ago, when Luke had popped in to say that the team had made a decision to rescue Chloe. He remembered being anxious that they wouldn't want to, but considering everything that had happened recently—not just with the media but pretty much in the past few disappointing weeks, he would have gladly encouraged them not to take on the mission if it meant creating an alternate universe that didn't end up here.

His chair creaked as he rose from it and prepared to address his students. When he entered the antechamber, all the students looked up expectantly. A few of them were bringing their luggage, which the Professor had already expected, while the others (the Alpha Team in particular) were sitting comfortably—well, as comfortably as they could look given the situation—on the couches.

"Thank you all for coming," he began sincerely. "I know yesterday must have been a stressful time for you and your families so I appreciate that you chose to hear me out today."

Not everyone had, though. For instance, the dark-haired pixie, Alice, had packed up and left at dawn the day before, narrowly avoiding the news crews gathering at the gates.

"I will be giving you your options this morning and whatever your decision will be, the Barden Institute will respect it," he said, looking at each of them. "Let's deal with the easy ones first, shall we? To those who weren't seen in the video...

"Because the institute itself was implicated, you may want to leave Barden and simply claim that you had no idea what was going on in the school—whether they believe you or not is, unfortunately, out of my control but it is nevertheless an option. Or you choose to stay. But if you do, I cannot promise that you won't be faced with a lot of the same scrutiny as your classmates.

"To the students who were clearly seen in the video," he continued, "you may also choose to leave and return to your families. But if you are in any way rejected by your peers or find your safety jeopardized, please know that there is always a place for you at Barden. Or, again, you may choose to stay. Times will be tough, but I promise to do everything in my power to keep you from any difficulty.

"To students whose parents were previously unaware of your powers," he glanced toward Beca and Jesse, "I would be happy to personally address any of their concerns, but if things don't turn out favorably, I repeat: Barden will always be a safe place for you. In my ten years as headmaster of this institute, we have tried to recruit countless young men and women whose parents have despised their children's gifts. We obviously feel differently about that."

John observed the small crowd of students as they considered their options.

"I also spoke to my lawyer," he added. "I think it's important for you to be aware that there should be no reason for our government, or any person for that matter, to detain, or refuse service to, any one of you on the basis of your powers. You do not have to answer any questions that you don't want to answer without a lawyer present—you are still protected by the law. But if they try to use force to restrain you, I must ask you to resist retaliating with your powers. You may block and avoid, but do not give them a reason to see you—to see all of you, collectively—as a threat."

John took a deep breath. "I cannot stress enough how difficult the next few days, maybe the next few months, will be for people like you," he said sadly. "In the coming days, you should expect a lot of people discriminating against you, or fearing you. But this, too, shall pass. Thank you for the time you've spent here, and the service you have done protecting the world from Heartless. Charlene and I will make ourselves available if you ever want to talk."

With those parting words, most of the students filed out the antechamber, either to go back to their rooms or to head out the door. As John expected, the Alpha team stayed behind.

"Any word from Gail?" Cynthia Rose asked, when they had the antechamber to themselves.

The illustrious founder and CEO of AMG had avoided contacting them since the news broke, out of caution. Though she personally wasn't seen in the leaked video, if the government agency behind the Project found out that she had been involved with Barden, it could spell trouble not only for her and the Professor, but for all the students as well.

The Professor shook his head. "No, but I'm sure she's furious on your behalf," he said with a small smile. "Have you told your parents?" he asked Jesse and Beca.

"I wasn't clearly seen in the video," said Jesse. "So I can still lie, but Beca…"

"My mom doesn't really have time to watch the news," the brunette shrugged. "But I think I'll tell her. She'll make the connection when she hears that it's Barden anyway... if none of her gossipy co-workers tell her first, that is."

The Professor looked confused at Beca's nonchalance but nodded.

"But speaking of our families," piped up Aubrey. "You said there would be a lot of discrimination. Do you think our families are going to be affected by that, too?"

"That depends on how much of your identities the media will have fished out by now," the Professor answered with distaste. "I've made sure your records here and at the University are kept confidential. I guess it would depend on whether you can trust your old acquaintances not to sell you out, and how public your lives are on social media."

The students exchanged looks. They had already deactivated their accounts the moment they heard the news, but they couldn't do anything about the potential rats they had in their contacts.

The Professor rubbed his face wearily. "Well, I'm off to meet another lawyer in D.C.. Charlene will be staying here, for once," he added, waving a hand at the door to his office. "I've instructed her to get rid of the media circus and increase the privacy around here." He gave them one final nod in goodbye before retreating to his private chambers.

On their way out, the six friends gave each other reassuring looks or pats on the back. Not all of them had been seen in the video—Jesse and Cynthia Rose weren't—but despite that they each knew that they were going to go through the coming shit-storm together. No matter what.

"What do we do now?" Jesse asked aloud as they walked down the hallway.

"D'you mean right now, or…?" Beca waved her hand to indicate the inexplicable situation they were in.

"Right now," he answered quickly. "I don't even wanna think about what we're gonna do about the situation we're in."

"Maybe we should relax?" suggested Cynthia Rose. "You know, have some fun before we aren't able to anymore."

"You're making it sound like we're dying or something," Stacie said amusedly.

"Luke! Aubrey!"

They turned around to see Charlene poking her head out of the door they had just exited. "Could I borrow you two for a few hours?"

Though surprised, the two blondes nodded at once. There was no question that they were free that day, since everyone at Barden had collectively decided not to attend their classes until things settled down. Aubrey, Luke, Bumper, and the other college students didn't go to Barden University, and the high school homeschool teachers that didn't outright quit were asked not to come to work.

"I guess we'll see you guys later," said Aubrey. She and Luke then turned around and followed Charlene back to the Professor's office.

The rest of them continued walking until they reached the landing that opened to the grand foyer. They leaned against the banister railings and watched as yet another of their fellow students carried her luggage out the door and into a large black car with heavily tinted windows.

"There goes Lana," Cynthia Rose hummed wistfully.

"Did you really think she'd stay?" snorted Beca, watching as the blonde girl entered the car without so much as a glance back at the mansion. "Frankly, I'm surprised she didn't hightail it outta here with Alice yesterday."

"She wanted to but her parents were too busy to pick her up," murmured Jesse, once again bringing them news from the grapevine. "Also, I heard she's planning on getting plastic surgery and changing her identity."

"Won't work. She'll still be identifiable by that bitchy personality," came a voice from behind them. For the second time that morning, they all spun around in unison.

"Bumper," Beca greeted with a smirk. Only nowadays it was a kinder smirk—sort of a half-smile. Her eyes scanned around him and she noticed the lack of luggage. "I guess you're staying?"

"Don't get your hopes up yet, Mitchell," he replied, waggling a stubby finger at her. "I'm still undecided."

"What do your parents say?" asked Cynthia Rose.

Bumper made a face and shrugged. "They let me do whatever I want." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and they stood around in silence for a while. "Whatever. I think hanging around you losers is affecting my awesomeness so…" Without another word, leapfrogged over the railings, landed on the ground floor, and strutted his way to the kitchens.

"You know, that may have been the nicest interaction I've ever had with Bumper," mused Stacie and the others chuckled in agreement.

"I think he's kinda sad, though," Jesse said with a sympathetic twitch of his mouth. "Uni's packing his bags."

The girls expressed their surprise at the planned departure of Bumper's long-time crony, whom they only knew by the nickname 'Unicycle' because he always rode one around, even indoors.

"Luke will also be bummed to hear that he's leaving," remarked Beca. "Those two were practically gym buddies."

Uni had the superhuman ability of adoptive muscle memory—the term Luke used to describe the ability mimic any action or movement after only a brief observation of it—as well as the natural ability to multi-task. Both of these made him an excellent training partner whenever Luke wanted to try out new combinations of fighting techniques.

Stacie shook her head lightly. "I don't get it. Why are they all leaving? I mean, Barden is the safest place for any of us, right?"

"Some of them don't have a choice, Stace," shrugged Jesse. "Uni's parents asked him to come home so…" He trailed off and gulped, realizing that he might be asked to go home very soon. He exchanged knowing looks with Beca, who sighed.

"All right," she said, pushing herself off the railings. "I've put it off for too long. Everyone follow me."

"Where are we going?" Cynthia Rose asked curiously.

"Library. You guys are gonna help Jesse and me figure out what to say our parents."

Later that night, after spending the rest of the day composing a script that she would read to her mom on the fateful moment of revelation, Beca was surprised to find a slim blonde sitting on her bed when she entered her room.

"Gail?" Beca wondered aloud, closing the door behind her.

"Sorry to ambush you in your room like this," the woman apologized nervously, pulling her hand back from Beca's bedside table. "I'm lucky you're alone."

"Is everything all right?" asked Beca, taking note of the way Gail was fidgeting. She assumed her bed wasn't the problem because she had made sure that her bed was as soft as a cloud, after personally experiencing what it was like to lie on one.

"Yes, yes, of course. The more important question is," Gail fixed her with a piercing stare, "how are you?"

Beca shrugged noncommittally. "Still kind of numb to it all. I think the Professor's keeping his hand on the wave of shit that's about to go down soon so… we're all kinda just waiting at this point."

The woman's shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry I couldn't—"

"Gail, it's not your fault," assured Beca. "No one blames you. We all blame that kid who downloads YouTube videos," she added, rolling her eyes. "I mean, come on, why waste disk space like that?"

She walked over to her desk chair and sat on it, waiting for Gail to explain the reason why she was in her room. But Gail did not seem to pick up on Beca's body language and, instead of explaining her clandestine visit, she pointed at the funny picture on Beca's bedside table.

"I was looking at this before you came in."

Beca glanced at the picture and chuckled in embarrassment. "Yeah, I have no idea what I'm doing there either. Some sort of chicken dance, maybe? Jesse must have—"

"You were giving Chloe a piggyback ride."

You were giving Chloe a piggyback ride.

No other combination of words could have been more alien to Beca than the ones that were just uttered. She echoed them in her head a few more times, deconstructing each word, stringing them back together, and processing the visuals that came with that piece of information. Then, a series of emotions went through her in this order:

First was surprise at the level of friendship she must have had with Chloe, since she wouldn't (not to mention couldn't) give any of the five other members of the Alpha team a goddamn piggyback ride. Not while wearing that goofy smile.

Next was embarrassment over why she'd had something like that framed and placed on her bedside table—especially in this day and age when almost nobody goes through the hassle of developing photos anymore.

That was followed by a throb of sadness at the realization that Chloe really must have meant a lot to her if she was willing to do both the act and the framing of it—which didn't seem to make sense to Beca, who couldn't even picture Chloe in her mind. Someone that close to her couldn't possibly have disappeared so easily from her memory...

Each rationalizing thought she added on top of every emotion banded together to form the final one: suspicion. "How would you know that?" she asked slowly, narrowing her eyes.

"This isn't my first time in your bedroom, Beca."

Beca made a face.

Gail put up a regretful finger. "Wow. Okay, let me rephrase that," she said, shaking her head. "I walked you back to your room the night of the fight with Chloe's Heartless. There were still traces of Chloe's Nobody's existence that night, one of which was this picture."

"Huh." Beca frowned. "I guess that's one of the things I don't remember… Chloe's Nobody is the empty one, right? The one with no heart... so then," she licked her lips, "this is what you meant about all traces disappearing? Pictures, videos, letters—all gone? She just vanished from existence?"

Gail nodded and paused for a moment before asking, "How do you remember those three months? The months leading up to the fight."

It was a fair question. When the Professor and Gail had filled them in after their battle in Florida, they only talked about what the students didn't remember, but not so much about what they did remember. And because of that, Beca was having a difficult time answering the question now.

"I haven't thought about it, really." Beca rubbed the back of her neck. "I may have mixed up what I actually remember with what you and the Professor told us."

Gail crossed her legs. "Humor me."

"Um, well," Beca leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. "Maybe it'll be easier if I retrace my steps. How about I start when we all met?"

"You and Jesse were on a treasure hunt but instead found Luke, Aubrey, and the Heartless at the abandoned mansion. Is that correct?"

"Right. Jesse and I sort of knew the Aubrey and Luke from our younger, uh, delinquent days," said Beca, "so we kinda got into a bit of an argument. Then we were interrupted by the Heartless and ended up fighting them together. After that, while Jesse and I looked for the treasure, Aubrey and Luke searched around the mansion for more Heartless. But now we know," she added hastily, "that they were actually looking for Chloe."

Gail nodded and let Beca continue.

"So anyway, Jesse and I didn't find anything but I guess Aubrey and Luke did because I remember being asked to fetch the getaway car—oh, wait, I didn't know it was a getaway car yet." Beca frowned. "See, I told you, I get things mixed up... Uh, I was just driving the car for some reason, and next thing I know, we were headed for Barden, where Luke introduced us to the Professor and he offered us a scholarship in exchange for helping Luke and Aubrey out."

"What were the first few weeks at the institute like?"

"Fine, I guess," shrugged Beca. "Having fewer classmates and living on campus made schoolwork easier… but the highlight of my weeks were trainings with Luke."

"Did you make friends with everyone easily?"

Beca opened her mouth to say that she wasn't really an outgoing type of person, but it didn't seem to add up to her situation now. She had never been popular in school yet the Alpha team was practically an exclusive clique at the institute; she had always thought her attitude was a turn-off for people yet she had made four times as many friends in her first three months at Barden as she did for six years.

"I guess?" Beca answered uncertainly. "Well, I was already friends with Jesse… and then Luke and Aubrey—well, Luke is easy to get along with. Aubrey just… sort of got more tolerable."

"How about Stacie and Cynthia Rose?"

Beca scrunched her face trying to recall her altered memories. "I don't remember hanging out with them that much. Not until… oh yeah, the day things got weird. It was on the second mission to the abandoned mansion; we were asked to investigate more Heartless appearances. We ended up at your house that night, where we found out that Stacie and CR were actually working for you to investigate the Heartless, too."

"Did you remember anything else about the mission? Like how you acquired the Keyblade?"

Beca extended her arm to the side and 'summoned' the Keyblade. After so many battles with it, she supposed it had grown to trust her and obey her commands more fluidly, because she had never been able to make it appear at will before. It materialized in her hand with light clink sound. She tried to recall the first time she wrapped her fingers around the hilt, in that dark tower, hearing the non-voice, and stepping onto the colorful stained glass…

"I remembered a voice saying things about me being ready for something," she muttered, dismissing the blade and looking back at Gail. "That's how the whole 'chosen one' joke started, right?"

Gail nodded, motioning Beca to continue.

"I remember the mission ending with sealing my first ever rip, and then instead of taking us back to Barden, Cynthia Rose knocked us out with sleep bombs and brought us to your place."

"Straight to Westchester?"

"Yup," nodded Beca. "I know you said we had a stopover at a library to discuss everything about Chloe but," Beca lifted her hands, "nothing. My memory skips to waking up at your house the next day, and the Professor coming over telling us there was this big-ass Heartless running loose in Florida. I remember thinking that you and the Professor were old buddies who disagreed on how to deal with the Heartless," she continued. "And that in the end you both agreed that the Heartless in Florida was a way bigger deal and you needed me to save the world or something. But then later on, you guys told us about that fucked up science experiment you did, and that the Heartless was actually a girl named Chloe's and we needed to destroy it in order to restore her back to her full being."

Beca's frown seemed permanent at this point as she revisited the thoughts she had months ago when they were told the truth about Chloe. "But, the thing is, I don't know what it was like when I first met Chloe, or how we even became friends… just that I did and that we were. And you can't tell me either because you obviously don't know."

Gail nodded again. The memories of the little things, the everyday, seemingly unimportant events that formed the building blocks of unique bonds between friends weren't something Gail or the Professor had ever witnessed personally. So when the students lost their memories of Chloe's Nobody, so did they lose that unique bond.

"And I believe you guys, really, I do," assured Beca. "But like I told Charlene—it's hard to use Chloe as a source of motivation when we can't remember anything about her besides what you told us."

"I understand," Gail said with a small smile. "It was my fault for hoping that it was the same as remembering her personally."

Beca gave a reluctant nod, but the word 'personally' seemed to light a switch in her head. She got the feeling that there was something she should be remembering, something that Gail was holding back from telling them the first time.

Something that made that intimate photograph make sense.

So Beca asked. Gail studied her face anxiously before responding in somewhat of a tangent. "What happened recently with the news," she began slowly, as though careful not to sound accusing, "gave me a bad feeling that the mission will take a backseat while you guys sort things out."

The image of Aubrey insisting on completing the mission flashed through Beca's mind in a split second, and it made her wonder what it was about blondes and dedication. "Gail, we promised to get Chloe back—"

"I'm not worried that you won't do it eventually. I'm worried that it might be too late when you do get around to it." Gail swallowed nervously. "But if there's a chance it would give you a push, I feel like now is the best time to say it."

In the pause following Gail's vague statement, Beca took another glance at the photo and put the pieces together herself—Gail's nervous glances over the past few months, Charlene questioning her motivation when they left the Realm, and even that unusual feeling that something was missing…

"Was Chloe… Did Chloe mean something more to me?"

The words felt awkward coming out of her mouth. Even with the euphemism she used, the idea still seemed so bizarre. She'd even go so far as to say it was impossible for her to have a girlfriend—she could barely stomach the word in her own thoughts—given that she cringed at the idea of committed relationships in general. She couldn't be in one herself, could she? Let alone one that seemed to develop astonishingly quickly.

"I can already see you overthinking things, Beca," said Gail, in a calm tone that misled Beca, who looked up with hopeful eyes. But Gail bluntly shot her hope down. "But yes, you were a couple."

Beca's initial response was just a string of unintelligible syllables, so she cleared her throat and tried again. "I'm in a relationship? I, uh, okay. With Chloe—?" She exhaled heavily, begging her mind to calm down instead of trying to imagine a scenario in which that was possible. It failed for one very obvious reason. "I don't even know what she looks like!"

She stood up and paced the room, running both a hand through her hair and a Rolodex of generic female faces through her mind's eye as it tried to grasp the glaringly abstract concept of Chloe Beale. It felt like being told by your parents that you had a long-lost sibling given up for adoption—Beca sort of believed it because why would anyone lie about something like that, but she also couldn't fully believe it until she saw her in person. At least when Chloe was just her "friend" she didn't have to imagine being attracted to her…

"So now you can understand how upset I was when you asked who Chloe was three days after saying you'll always love her," Gail was saying, effectively snapping Beca out of her thoughts. But if Gail thought she was helping the situation, she was dead wrong.

"L-love?"

Beca's stomach fell. Up until this point she still could have believed a fraction of what Gail had told her. But love? She could practically hear the whirring of her brain going into over—before it activated its trusty fail-safe measure: complete and absolute denial. "Okay, I think you have me mixed up with someone else," she said with a stiff chuckle. "A-Are you sure it wasn't Jesse? I mean, I know he's with Aubrey now but he's more into this whirlwind romance crap. Or Luke, I mean, he could—"

Gail had certainly expected Beca to be surprised, even doubtful, but not quite so in denial. Realizing that she had approached the whole thing from the wrong angle, Gail zipped her mouth shut and let the young brunette continue her rambling and sort out her thoughts on her own. Gail's silence, however, was enough to answer Beca's question, and after a few mumblings of the words "no, no, no" and "oh God," the brunette ended up staring motionlessly at the framed picture on her bedside.

"Beca?" Gail prodded tentatively after a full minute of her not moving. "Are you okay?"

"Look, Gail," Beca cleared her throat, "I don't know how to explain—how to convince you—that this is impossible."

"What's impossible?"

"What you just dropped on me!" Beca hissed indignantly. (She had resisted yelling throughout the entire conversation since Stacie's room was just beside hers—who knows where that girl's ears could be right now.) "That I love Chloe!"

"And why would that be 'impossible'?" asked Gail, complete with air quotes.

Beca did not reciprocate the woman's levity so she formed the words as maturely as they could be before saying them out loud. "Because I would never be in a relationship in the first place, hence the impossibility of all the things you said. The piggyback rides, the lo—" Her voice caught in her throat. "Just no, okay? Trust me. It's not possible."

"Oh, come on, Beca." Gail crossed her arms and frowned, clearly not buying it. "Don't sell yourself short, you're a beautiful girl—"

"Not for that reason," Beca interjected through gritted teeth. "But because I don't... Argh, okay, this will sound stupid but hear me out."

Beca never would have imagined that she'd be in this situation; sitting in her room, convincing Gail that she . She had no way of knowing how convincing she would be. "Because I don't believe in getting into relationships," she said. "At least not the kind that you're implying Chloe and I had."

She refrained from telling Gail that the kinds of relationships she did get into, though few in her young life, were more of the 'casual fling' type. But Gail's pursed her lips and sweeping look suggested that she got the gist. "That's the problem with kids these days, they're so melodramatic—"

"Hey! I'm not!" Beca insisted, shaking her head vigorously. "I hate drama. This was a legit, conscious, mature decision I made when I was eight."

Gail raised an eyebrow.

"I was mature for my age, okay?" Beca said with a glare. "But my point is, this isn't just some angsty reaction to my dad leaving; I'm not trying to make excuses or anything. I just honestly don't see the benefit of those kinds of relationships. Is it companionship? Affection? Love I can understand, but I've had my mom and Jesse all these years so I know for a fact that I can live without romance."

Beca settled back in her chair and softened her tone so she wouldn't sound too unreasonable. "But having to care about what someone thinks of you, or having to worry about saying the right things to make the other person feel a certain way—who needs the aggravation, seriously? I can live without it," she said firmly. "And this has pretty much been a fact of life for me for the past ten years, which is why I'm finding it extremely hard to believe that, for three months of my life, it suddenly wasn't."

At this point, Gail wasn't sure what to make of this mess. Beca didn't seem like an irrational teenager spouting angsty post-breakup clichés, but at the same time Gail didn't feel right believing her. "I still don't understand," she confessed. "How you can be so against this relationship—?"

"I'm not against this relationship," Beca said quickly, to which Gail threw her an even more confused look. "I don't particularly like that it happened," Beca clarified, "but the fact that you said I was in a relationship with Chloe is not the reason I'm—for lack of a better term—freaking the fuck out."

"You're not making it easier to understand you, Beca."

"You said I loved her," Beca said in a serious tone. "Look, I'm not stupid. I know—like, super deep down—it's possible to have healthy relationships, and not all of them end up screwing you for life. But I also know, in my heart, I would never tell someone I had just met that I loved her. I understand why you thought it might motivate me if I knew about the relationship, but for the sake of honesty—and for the sake of my conscience—I think you should know."

Beca looked up and Gail was finally able to read the expression on her face. It was guilt.

"I lied to this girl."

Gail wasn't easily rendered speechless. Her professional life often required conducting interviews and giving important presentations to stakeholders, and she got through those by planning ahead and preparing for anything that might be asked of her. Over time, as she climbed the numerous ladders of the business world, that skill grew intuitive until everything felt effortless.

But that moment, a simple move made by an eighteen-year-old—and that any rational human being could have predicted might happen—completely blindsided her. She was utterly unprepared.

What if Beca didn't believe you?

Beca was undoubtedly being honest and reasonable about her reaction to everything—after all, Gail could not deny that even she was surprised when she first heard of their relationship. But there also no denying that her own memories didn't lie. Gail could clearly remember the first time she had met Beca because, incidentally, it was also the first time she had been angrily yelled at by someone two decades her junior, ever since she had teased a much younger Chloe for being a Hufflepuff.

Beca's tone that night at the library, stubbornly demanding for Chloe's whereabouts, had had that familiar mix of anger and protectiveness that only surfaced when you believed someone's life was in danger and you were helpless to do anything about it. And although the Beca currently in the room with her, devoid of any personal memories of Chloe, might argue that those weren't signs of love, Gail had a lot more memories than that to back her claim:

There was Beca focusing all her energy on keeping a slumbering Chloe comfortable; placing her soft kisses on her forehead as she slept soundly in her arms en route to Westchester; their 'practically-married' banter over breakfast the next morning; and the promises they had made to each other later that day, when the time had come to fight Chloe's Heartless and say good bye.

Beca loves Chloe.

Gail was absolutely certain of that. But there was a reason she wasn't saying any of this out loud, why she wasn't insisting that Beca believe her. It was the same reason she didn't tell Beca about the relationship in the first place: to avoid causing either of them any more pain than necessary. She hadn't told Beca before now to save her the heartbreak in case Chloe was already gone forever, or if it turned out that Chloe didn't remember anything from her time as a Nobody either.

Four months ago, Gail didn't even want to consider the first possibility—Chloe had to be alive, waiting for them somewhere beyond the darkness. They followed the literature and did everything right. So instead Gail fixated on the second possibility and did what she thought was best for the two girls—she kept Beca unaware, because having both of them lack memories of their own relationship was painless, and if it turned out that Chloe did remember, then the only wrong Gail had committed would be delaying their inevitable coupling.

Because of course Beca would fall in love with Chloe all over again, right?

But decades of professional success had prevented Gail from being taught this lesson earlier on in her life: that not every decision she makes, no matter how well-intentioned, was right.

She had taken the team's retreat from the Realm as her first sign of being horribly wrong. As the days after their return ticked on without much progress, the first possibility weighed heavier and heavier on Gail's mind, right until the media outbreak, when it reached critical mass. With yet another distraction, the chances of the team getting back into the Realm were pitiful, so Gail was pushed to change her strategy.

By finally telling Beca, she had hoped to speed up the process and settle her fears about Chloe's safety, but at a higher risk of causing Beca pain. Because in two of three possible outcomes—Chloe's death or her own memory loss—Beca would come out as the loser, after going through the rollercoaster of emotions Gail had just strapped her on.

But once again, Gail was dead wrong. Because with Beca's unprecedented denial of ever being in love with Chloe, neither of Gail's two expected scenarios would even play out:

Beca would not have fallen in love with Chloe again, because she never loved Chloe in the first place. Beca would not have been heartbroken if Chloe didn't remember, because then she'd just be off the hook. But now, thanks to Gail's blunder, if Chloe came back safe and sound, memories intact, then both girls would have an uncomfortable, and certainly not painless, conversation.

Gail had to hand it to herself. She had managed to elegantly create this giant cluster fuck, when all she wanted was to accomplish with Chloe what she hadn't been able to with her husband: bring her back from the darkness. Meddling with people's hearts was not part of the plan.

"Can I sleep on it?" Beca croaked after the longest pause in their conversation.

"I didn't ask you to decide anything, Beca," Gail reminded her gently. And a little sadly.

"I know. But I still have to think about… all of this."

Gail nodded and rose from the bed with difficulty. It seemed the weight had doubled since she first entered the room. "Oh, hang on." She paused on her way out and took something out of her coat pocket. "I thought this might help with the remembering... I had to break a few laws to get it so please keep it safe."

Beca reached out to take a small photograph from Gail. Looking down at it, she couldn't help but smile at the bright, happy face of a little toddler in pigtails. She's a redhead, Beca thought amusedly. She hadn't even considered that. But what captivated her the most were the girl's large, beautiful, blue eyes, very different from her own dark and stormy ones. The photo was a little old and grainy but even then Beca could tell that those eyes lit up the room.

"Thanks for this," she muttered, still not taking her eyes off of the girl.

"No problem," smiled Gail. "Well, you know how to contact me when… if..."

Beca nodded understandingly and moved over to her bed after Gail had left the room silently without finishing her sentence. She inserted the picture of Chloe in the corner of the picture frame that supposedly contained the photo of her and the grown-up Chloe.

She stared at it for one more moment, hating herself for inadvertently contributing to the eventual crushing of this little girl's heart. But what made things worse–even worse than the deceit–was the fact that, if it were all true, then Chloe must have been waiting for months, probably thinking that Beca was doing everything in her power to get to her.

Sure, as a friend she should have been doing the same thing, but being in a relationship with the rescuee certainly warranted more effort from the rescuer.

Beca turned the lights off and lay in her bed with her eyes closed. The hollow feeling in her gut grew worse as the unrealistic, almost plastic, images of herself being openly affectionate and romantic, accompanied by the quiet self-loathing and blame over the very inability to picture them, made it so that it wasn't until much later that sleep finally gave her peace.

"May I remind you, John, that your students are adults?"

"Just because they aren't minors, doesn't mean their right to privacy is less important," responded John. Despite his calm demeanor, he was walking fairly briskly toward the hired car service, desperate to get back to his hotel as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the crowd of reporters and cameramen that followed him from the lawyer's office to the car didn't make it easy. Neither did the FBI Special Agent closely trailing him.

"You're not going to win that argument, John," the agent warned smugly. "This is an issue of National Security—at least, it can be if I wanted it to. We're going to build our case and your students are going to have no choice but to spill everything."

"Yeah, well, fuck you very much, Paul," dismissed John, getting into the car and slamming the door in the FBI agent's face. He let out an angry huff and took out his phone to call his assistant.

"Did the lawyer have good news?" was her greeting.

"Not enough," he growled. "Our defense can be blown away by a technicality, although he says the same could be said for the opposition. And because of the unique circumstances and surrounding controversy, he predicts that the media will play a big role in the decision," he added bitterly.

"Is he suggesting we steer into the skid?"

"It's our best option."

There was a pause while Charlene considered John's statement. "Do you want me to tell the students?"

"Let me get in touch with Gail first, maybe she can refer a publicist that could help us attack this the right way."

"All right."

John hung up and immediately dialed Gail's number. While waiting for her to pick up, he pondered the road ahead.

He had ended up staying in D.C. longer than he had wanted to, but meeting with the best federal lawyers in the country was absolutely necessary if they were to quell the growing movement of dissent against 'mutants,' as his students and their kind were now being called. He thought it was quite a distasteful term that implied there was something wrong with them when indeed what made the mutants special made others envious.

Although, John would say that those youngsters had no one to blame for the media zeroing in on that term but themselves.

"Ah, the devils are still at the gates," muttered Stacie, her arm resting lazily off the side of Luke's convertible as the car made its way out of the driveway. She, Luke, Aubrey, and Jesse were on their way to the supermarket to pick up some groceries, since Barden's cook (and all the household staff) had been allowed to leave discreetly when the news broke.

The cameras started flashing nonstop as the reporters crowded around the car. Luke honked the horn loudly to get them to disperse but that still gave them plenty of time to get a clear shot of what they looked like.

"If you're going to take pictures, might as well get the good stuff," called Stacie, striking a provocative pose and grabbing her boobs with a wink.

"Stop that!" Aubrey reprimanded, grabbing Stacie's wrist and forcing it on the brunette's lap modestly. "We're not supposed to draw attention to ourselves."

"Oh, my goodies draw attention no matter what—"

A reporter unceremoniously shoved a microphone in front of Stacie's chest, rudely cutting her off to ask, "What are your comments on the ongoing effort to conduct a formal investigation into the Barden Institute's terrorist intentions?"

Stacie and Aubrey only glared at the man. Even Jesse from the front passenger's seat whipped his head around in disgust. Luke revved the engine threateningly to once again try to clear the crowd. Sensing that the students weren't open to answering questions, and that accusing a group of superhuman youths might not have been the smartest decision he'd made that day, the reporter backed away immediately.

But then another, braver one took a chance. "What about the growing pressure being put on Congress to re-enact the Superhuman Registration Act?"

Stacie opened her mouth to say something vile, but was again cut off, this time by Aubrey. "The SRA was repealed mere months after its enactment due to its unconstitutionality," the blonde countered sharply. "I'm sure whatever Congress cooks up next will not hold water either."

Stacie closed her mouth and pointed at Aubrey smugly. "Yeah, what she said."

The reporters were ecstatic over finally getting a response and felt encouraged to barrage them with more questions. Stacie heard the words "danger to society" and "necessary measures" and got riled up again. "First of all, we are not a danger to society. We fucking protect it, okay? And second—"

"Stacie—!"

"For the same reason you can't discriminate against race, gender, disability, or sexual orientation—you can't discriminate against us! We didn't ask to have our powers, but we have to live with them—and, honestly, we've been doing nothing but good with it so leave us the fuck alone!" With a final huff, Stacie crossed her arms and stared firmly ahead with her head held high. The reporters hurriedly turned to face their cameraperson to over-analyze and exaggerate Stacie's outburst.

Amidst their scrambling, Luke was finally able to drive away. Still keeping her steadfast expression, Stacie felt Aubrey's glaring eyes on her. "What?" she asked, confused. "Was that not good?"

The blonde shook her head. "Not good."

In just a few hours, the media had spun Stacie's 'born this way' rant and, along with the rest of the world, deduced somewhat correctly that it was a genetic mutation that caused their superhuman powers. As many more publications were reporting due to renewed interest, the origins of superhuman powers were never fully looked into during the first enactment of the Superhuman Registration Act; there were certainly many theories—alien abductions, radioactive exposure, etc.—but genetics was never seriously considered since they could never find volunteers.

John pursed his lips. He had not been pleased to hear about the media kerfuffle right in the middle of a meeting with the lawyers. He sighed when Gail still hadn't picked up after his third try to get in touch and supposed that she was busy working at her day job. So he made a note to call her later in the evening instead.

The sun was barely peeking above the horizon, bathing the sky in deep orange, when John's car pulled into the hotel. Wearily pushing the door to his room open moments later, he was greeted by the sight of a man he hadn't seen in almost ten years, though he wasn't all that surprised to find him in his hotel room.

The agency was, after all, incredibly stealthy.

"I'm surprised it took you this long," said John, placing his briefcase on a nearby armchair and shrugging his coat off.

"Well, we spent quite some time figuring out the best course of action to take," the man said with a light smile. "It's good to see you again, John." He extended his hand, which John shook. "Let's talk."

Gail pressed the sleep button on her phone to silence John's third consecutive call. When she looked up she saw Beca eyeing her curiously. "You sure you don't want to answer that?" she asked. "I can wait."

Gail shook her head. "This is more important. Are you sure you've created a long enough distraction for Charlene?"

"Hell, yeah. No Aubrey, plus some homemade slime, plus everyone's clothes sticking to the walls equal Bumper up against a lot of angry mutants," chuckled Beca. "I'm sure the all-out war that is about to happen upstairs will keep Charlene busy for a good couple of hours."

Gail laughed. "Mutants?" she asked knowingly.

Beca shrugged. "Might as well get used to it. It's pretty accurate, anyway."

"And you're sure you want to do this? I hope what I said last night didn't—"

"It did affect my decision, but not in a bad way," said Beca sincerely. "I was still in denial for a long time after you told me. In my head, it both made and didn't make sense that Chloe is someone special to me. But… that shouldn't matter, right? I said I would save her even if I had no memories of her, and I would still save her even if I didn't know she was my girlfriend." The word rolled off Beca's tongue with far less bumps than it did the previous night.

Gail shifted her weight awkwardly. "So you're… H-How do you feel about it?"

Beca took a deep breath. "I don't know yet," she said honestly. "I wish you'd told me sooner, though. Some part of me feels guilty now for not thinking about her more often. But a bigger part of me is feels guilty that I might have been leading Chloe on the whole time, and it kinda scares me."

"Is there some other part that believes you really were in love?" Gail asked hopefully.

"No offense, Gail, but my generation isn't wired to fall in love," Beca replied with a sad smirk. "At least not at this stage of our lives. We succumb to attraction and seek only pleasure. Then when we're tired of the game, pick the most tolerable or dependable player, and retire."

"And you say you're not dramatic."

"I call 'em like I see 'em, Gail."

They shared a chuckle and turned back to the matter at hand. "Are you sure about going in alone, though?" asked Gail, her voice full of concern.

"Honestly? I think I prefer it. It's easier if I only have to worry about myself. I'll be avoiding the Heartless as best as I can and going straight to the end anyway," Beca assured, and then pointed at the protective vest she had on. "This thing is guaranteed to ward off internal darkness for about two and half hours once activated, right?"

Gail nodded. That was the most AMG had been successful at producing since the team returned from the Realm a week ago.

Beca tapped the small backpack she had on. "And I have another here for Chloe. If I could carry her on piggyback then I can probably carry her in flight so… I think I'm all set."

They both stood inside the basement room where Beca would soon open the Corridor and make her way to the Realm of Darkness. She summoned the Keyblade and, as she had done countless times in the past, pointed it at the center of the room. A small rip formed and slowly began to split open, but unlike the ones from which Heartless emerge, Beca's Corridors were always a pleasant, ocean blue color.

Gail eyed Beca closely, only to see nothing but fierce determination on the girl's face. A part of her wanted to hold Beca back and say that it was too dangerous—because it truly was; though the plan was simple and theoretically doable, so many things could go wrong. And without the safety of numbers, Beca would be left to deal with it on her own. But another part of Gail—the part that was winning the moral battle—was giving her an ominous feeling that this was their last chance.

Beca, on the other hand, was feeling oddly calm. I'm the one who can keep the light on, she had told herself over and over again, while mulling over her decision earlier that morning. If she had been given the Keyblade to save Chloe the first time, then not only was Beca meant to do it again and again for as long as she lived, but more importantly, and regardless of Beca's true feelings for her, Chloe was someone to be treasured.

"Chloe... I'm coming for ya," she whispered. After a quick nod to Gail, Beca shifted her weight forward and flew straight into the Corridor.

With strands of her golden hair whipping around her face from the blowback of Beca's departure, Gail watched the tiny brunette disappear into the blue and let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding. She hoped Beca would only take a few hours. She calculated in her head that flying at an optimistic sixty-seven miles per hour would get Beca to the end of the Realm in about an hour and a half, and with Chloe on her back her return speed would probably be reduced to—

"Ow!"

Gail's head snapped back to look at the Corridor's entrance, from where Beca suddenly shot out, flying backwards, until she landed without grace and skidded on the white tiled floor. Gail had moved quickly to help her up that she didn't notice the other four figures emerge from the Corridor after Beca.

"Sorry. I didn't see you there," came an unfamiliar female voice that sounded distinctly European. "You were so tiny. I thought you were a bug."

"Or like a little mouse," added another foreign, but male, voice. "Like, um, how do you say… Mäuschen?"

"You just said it," a second man, definitely American, grumbled. He followed it up with, "idiot."

"Oh, no! Did you hit someone?" a younger, much sweeter voice asked worriedly.

Beca and Gail raised their heads at the same time. The first thing to catch Beca's attention were wide eyes, so strikingly blue they almost seemed unreal, sticking out from behind a towering figure. Her gaze then traveled up the all-black-clad giant of a woman, whose sleek blonde hair tied in an immaculate bun, wearing an intimidating smirk.

Gail scanned each of the newcomers' faces for a microsecond before her eyes landed on the man on the far right, who was busy smacking dust off the sleeve of his tuxedo, much to the amusement of the taller, darker-haired man beside him. Her heart leapt to her throat at the same moment her stomach dropped, leaving her in quite a numbing daze.

And just like that, Chloe and Jack were safe and sound, right in front of their eyes.

Response to reviews:

xcombixgirlx (Oct. 13) - Haha! Bumper has his moments, I guess. I think this is the point in the story where the X-Men influence is most felt, because they'd have to adapt to, or go against, society. And yeah! Contrary to what I wrote (LOL), I do wish Beca could just remember! But the heart is a complicated system in itself... you'll see for yourself in the next chapter. :)

Guest (Oct. 13) - Daaaaamn right it's going down! It's about time these kids learn what justice and freedom in the United States really mean. Haha.

Guest (Oct. 14) - Thanks! It was fun to make up their flaws haha. By the way, you must have psychic powers or something because I had scheduled those two Germans to appear at the very end of this chapter! (I wrote it about a month ago haha.) Please see A/N for comment on who revealed their powers.

Maggie (Oct. 14) - Thank you, Maggie! It's always great to hear from you. :) Please see A/N for comment on who revealed their powers.

twin192 (Oct. 16) - Well, I'm glad you decided to give this story a chance; otherwise, I wouldn't have received such kind words from you. :) I don't mind that few people read it, honestly, writing is a pleasure in itself! But I do love it when people take the time to appreciate it so a million thank you's from me! :) Character development is, like, my religion haha so I guess you should trust your gut when it comes these characters. Please see A/N for a comment on Chloe.

A/N: (On the YouTube downloader) You may think it's silly–or that I was too lazy to come up with a new antagonist for the team–but downloading YouTube videos is actually something my best friend does (to my great amusement) so he can watch them over and over from wherever, and it proved useful when a trailer leaked a few months back (I think it was for X-Men, coincidentally) and was taken down. I got to see it thanks to my friend haha.

I'd also like to apologize for Chloe's absence in the past few chapters. Although life in the Dark Margin isn't exactly exciting, you'll get to see what she'd been up to in the next chapter.