Story- Rumored to be True (R.t.b.T.) One-shot series: The Intentionally Forgotten.

Author- Amethyst-Blood Crimson-Tears -Alasyn-

Genre- Hurt/ Comfort

Characters- Derek Souza

Summary- Even the strongest of barriers can be broken in a human's most vulnerable hour. Sleep. What dreams haunt Derek's unconscious escape from a reality that renders his conscious life a tangled mess? Perhaps, something that had been intentionally forgotten.

Type- AU/AH- No Powers, One-shot.

Dedication-This One-shot is dedicated to suzi1811 for her continuous support throughout my Darkest Powers fics. I love all her amazing reviews, and anyone who has received them can understand why.

Author's Note- Okay, so this is the first one-shot I've written by a given idea/ prompt. It tags along with Rumored to be True- it particularly fits in with chapter 7, so if you have not read it, then I suggest doing that before you read this- as that is what the receiver requested. Also I started off with a little bit different style in the beginning. It was kind of difficult, but I hope I did pretty well on it. Enjoy!

Disclaimer- I disclaim the idea, as it belongs to suzi, and I disclaim Darkest Powers as it belongs to Kelley Armstrong… supposedly. But, Rumored to be True is mine- the story that is, not the characters or anything like that.

Dark memories I've always been trying to escape. That's when I lose the moments that truly matter.

The Intentionally Forgotten

He was in the dark, musty, dank closet again. Hiding. He always hid here. He knew they were looking for him, the other boys had told him so. They taunted him with this knowledge, boring it into his mind that registered panic and fear. They relentlessly berated the fact that he was a target today.

So soon? Why so soon? He had already been punished. Punished for asking for more food. He was always hungry. Always, always, always. But they never gave him more of that soggy cereal. Why not? No one else ate it? If he were willing to, why couldn't he have more?

He was selfish, they said. He was selfish and insensitive to the fact that there was no money to buy more food for the rest of them if he had more. Not for the rest of the boys, but their owners. How could they take care of him, they asked, if he was so selfish and didn't care for their health and energy? They asked him why he was so special, while the other boys got the same portion, why should he get more?

He had never meant to be selfish. He was hungry. Always. Even while the slushy goop filled the other boys, he was left unsatisfied. He had never meant to disrespect those who provided for him. But that didn't matter, he had. And he was punished for it.

He winced at the memory, arms and legs burning and twisting with scattered bruises and cuts.

He had been good since then. Since that morning. He hadn't done anything wrong. So why were they looking for him again? What did he do?

He didn't speak for the rest of the morning, vaguely remembering how he was never punished when quiet. Here the rules were different. He was not to speak unless spoken to. But before, he was not to speak at all.

He couldn't remember why, it had been so long ago. The distant flicker of familiarity was faint. The boom of a thunderous voice, ordering him to remain silent, and the pitched shrieks of agony that followed if he disobeyed tugged at the back of his mind.

He hadn't meant to hurt anyone when speaking; even knowing the danger that followed once words escaped his lips. But the screaming and the begging… He never wanted to speak again.

The rules here are different. If you did not speak when spoken to, there was a punishment. Arrogant and cocky, they had called him. The disrespect of either speaking or not speaking confused him, sometimes he didn't know what to do.

But he hadn't been addressed, and he had remained quiet. What else could he have done? He finished his chores, he stayed in his room, staying completely quiet as he looked through his book-

Had they found his book? The one with the pictures of the forest and the wolves? The one he liked to secretly pull out when no one was looking and attempt to read what was lettered across the elegant pictures, and count the different trees, plants, clouds, wolves, whatever he could find in multiples for he loved to count?

They weren't allowed to have books. They weren't allowed to have toys or belongings. But, he had found it in this very closet, he couldn't resist his curiosity, and he kept the book a secret.

But what if they had found out? Was that why they were looking for him?

There was a sudden commotion of rhythmic thumps above him as someone descended the stairs that sat on top of the closet. He cowered deeper, pushing himself back into the corner, retreating behind moth eaten coats. He held his small plump arms to his chest as he pulled his knees closer to his tiny frame. Long, dark locks fell into his wide, green eyes.

They wouldn't find him. They never did. Not until later when he thought it was safe to escape to his room, but it never was.

The footsteps continued to thud upon the landing and cross the hall just outside the closet door. He released a shaky breath when they retreated into the kitchen, the kitchen door making an audible 'thwip, thwip," noise as it swung back and forth in its intruders wake.

They were going to the other side of the house now. If he was quiet, he could sneak out of the closet and make a run for his room, where the footsteps had just come from.

He pushed himself off the dusty floor of the closet, brushing his shaking hands against his torn jeans, he took a step out from behind the coats, slowly putting himself in front of the door. He touched the golden knob with his fingers, icy cold to the touch, and pressed his ear to the door, listening for any life on the other side. Concluding that there was none, he lightly twisted the doorknob, pushing the rotting wood open to see into a dimly lit hallway. The coast looked to be clear.

He quickly slipped through the door, only opening it as far as he dared, and quietly pushed it back into its frame before letting the knob go. The greater feat would be the trip up the stairs without disturbing the termite infested wood. He turned, ready to venture up the stairs as silent as possible, but released a raspy yelp and jumped back against the door instead. There, standing right behind him, was the person he was trying to avoid since the other boys told him that he was being scouted.

Marcel Davidoff.

"Found you. You think you're cute, running around playing hide and seek like life is a game," Davidoff sneered, his cool colored eyes flashing with frustration and impatience.

"I-I didn't do anything," he said in a small, rather rough voice. His throat burned in the process of speaking, from lack of hydration and speech altogether.

"No matter what, I want you to keep your mouth shut. Understand? Now, come with me." When he didn't move, Davidoff roughly grabbed his arm, fingers falling perfectly in line with the purpling of his skin, and yanked him closer, eyes ablaze with a frightful light. He swallowed a fearful whimper as Davidoff dragged him along to his office.

"I promise, I didn't do anything!"

Derek shot up, the air a smack of cold against his hot, sweaty face. He could feel the beads of salt drag down every inch of his flesh. His finely cut jaw, his thick neck, his broad shoulders and his exposed chest. The sticky, damp perspiration stuck his dark hair to his chiseled cheeks and full lashes. His sheets tangled themselves up his legs and across his fairly defined torso. His breath escaped him and he panted, desperately trying to relieve his lungs while his eyes were wide, slowly registering the intentionally forgotten memories. It was still dark, so dark it felt like it was swallowing him whole.

"Derek?"

Said boy winced. Why? Why was it that every time this happened, Simon had to wake up?

There was a ruffle of movement, a silhouette produced in Derek's peripheral vision as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. There was no need to at any rate, for Simon had reached for the lamp, clicking it on and filling the room with a sudden brilliant light. Derek growled, eyes dilating and blurring due to the unwanted shine.

Simon- shirtless, with groggy amber eyes, and bed head blonde spikes- gave him a sheepish, sympathetic smile before it fell and his eyes fogged with worry.

"You okay?"

The chains of tension that had been held between them over the past couple of weeks seemed to drop effortlessly at his sincerely, anxious tone.

Derek looked away, staring at the opposite wall, ashamed of having to look so weak in front of him. So vulnerable. He wasn't supposed to be like this anymore.

"Do… Do you want to talk about it?" When Derek said nothing, only sitting there, clenching and un-clenching his fists in his covered lap, Simon proceeded to throw his legs over his bed and stand, clad with gray sweats.

"I can go get dad-"

"No," Derek snapped. He always did this. Simon knew that Derek wanting to talk to his dad about the nightmares was the last thing on his list, therefor he would pull up the suggestion knowing Derek would automatically extinguish the idea.

This wasn't to say that Kit didn't know about the nightmares. He just didn't know how often they happened. More often now- nearly two to three times in the past few weeks- since Derek had his first run-in with Liam. The vibes he was getting from that guy were so vaguely familiar, even before his time in the orphanage.

It brought back the hazy reminiscent fog of Derek's birth parents, which, when thought of, surfaced distant screams and pleas that Derek only wished- wished with all his might- that he had imagined.

"Remember-" Derek paused, never quite the one to talk about this. He never liked to think about it either. For so long, since Kit had adopted him into this disfigured family, Derek pushed everything back. Memories, pains, scars. They weren't a part of his life anymore. But they still followed him. They still haunted him. And if there was anyone out there to talk to about it, about his past, it was Simon. Derek didn't want to worry his dad, though Kit insisted he be told if anything were to surface.

But usually all Derek needed was someone to confide in. Someone who was going to tell him that everything would be okay, that it was okay.

"Remember that closet? The one I told you about when we were younger? We used to play hide and seek, and I would always hide in the closet."

"Right." Simon sat back onto the side of his bed, propping his arms against his knees. "You said no one could ever find you in there. Even though I found you every time, claiming victory in the epic game of hide and seek," Simon mused, eyes swimming with memories of their childhood. Derek released a soft, rumbled chuckle.

"Yeah. I dreamed of me hiding in that rank closet."

"What were you hiding from?" Derek knew that Simon already knew the answer. But the answer could go both ways. The other boys, or the management at the orphanage.

"Davidoff. One day, the other guys said he was looking for me, so I went and hid in the closet."

They remained silent, Simon holding back the sympathy he knew Derek didn't want. What he actually wanted had been gained though. The chance to lift that weight off his chest, and Simon was just the kind of guy to let him do that.

That day rushed back to Derek so vividly now, like it had just happened the day before. He had done nothing wrong. He hadn't even been in any trouble; yet, he had been warned. Derek silently laughed again, wondering how he could possibly let that day slip his thoughts.

"What," Simon asked, a crooked smile pulling at his lips to see his brother smiling at a time like this.

"I just remembered. That was the day dad adopted me."

"Yeah?" Simon's smile grew brilliantly, using that power of his to make someone smile back. And Derek did, remembering the happiest, and possibly the scariest, day of his life.

"Derek, I ordered you to keep your mouth shut," Davidoff hissed, gripping tighter on Derek's arm. He closed his mouth, hoping the punishment won't be as bad if he were to be obedient. But, the closer they got to Davidoff's dreadful office, the more Derek's heartbeat picked up, racing and staggering as anxiety and fear became overpowering.

Just before opening his door, Davidoff gave Derek one more threatening glare, and loosened his grip until he was barely holding his short sleeve. If Derek wanted to, he could break away and run. But he didn't want to. He was afraid of what might happen if he were caught.

Davidoff pushed the door open, an awful creak sounded from the rusty hinges, abruptly disturbing a figure inside. It was a man with light brown hair, and when he turned to greet his visitors- for his back had been to the door, where he occupied a seat in front of Davidoff's rather pristine desk. The rest of the house may have been old, out-dated and filthy, but Davidoff had a thing for sanitation in his own space. He practically lived in this room to escape the disgusting reality that lay behind his door, leaving the others to watch over the boys- the man's eyes lit up in acknowledgment upon seeing them. Their amber depth fell onto Derek and a wide friendly smile spread across his face.

Derek wanted to smile back, but hesitated, suspicion and uncertainty lighting inside his conscience.

The man stood, his build quite thin but tall, and he approached them. He hardly seemed to notice Davidoff standing next to him as his eyes never left Derek. He knelt before him, bouncing his weight on the balls of his feet, that friendly smile welcoming and beckoning Derek to react.

He refrained.

"Hello Derek," he whispered smoothly. His voice was much different from the ones he heard around the house, from ones he remembered from when he was younger. The tenderness was alluring, nearly promising all the safety in the world to Derek's ears.

"I'm not sure you remember me. Probably not, huh?"

Honestly, Derek didn't recognize him, and even if he were supposed to he felt guilty for not being able to. The strange man was nice.

Unfortunately, instead of replying, Derek said nothing, knowing all too well what would happen to him if he disobeyed Davidoff.

The man's eyes dimmed, and for a split second they flashed Davidoff's way. He gave Derek a reassuring look before speaking again.

"Derek, do you mind if Marcel and I talk in private for a moment?"

Why would he mind? It would delay the punishment Derek was brought to this office for in the first place. Besides, since when did the grown ups ask him permission or care what he would mind or not.

Still, Derek didn't answer, just stared at the man, unknowing of what his features gave away.

"Derek, the hall. Mr. Bae and I will only be a minute." Derek nodded immediately, not failing to catch the underlying threat in his tone. He quickly fled the room.

The door closed behind him, leaving Derek by himself in that dark hallway. If he looked hard enough, squinting to see down towards the entry way, he could see his closet waiting for him, inviting him to hide. But he didn't dare. He had already been caught hiding once.

There was the sound of talking behind the door, and Derek's curiosity burned through him. Who was that man anyways? How had he known Derek? Why should Derek remember him? Derek glanced around himself, unable to take his burning desire to know any longer, before he stepped closer to the door, pressing his ear against it like he had done in the closet.

"- and how do you want to explain Derek's current condition? He's been here for two years, those marks are supposed to go away, not increase," The man- Mr. Bae- hissed, his tone icy.

"What can I say Kit? Boys will be boys," Davidoff sighed. "They always start rough-housing around, especially Derek. The boy likes to pick a fight.

Derek started. That was an absolute lie. Derek didn't want to be anywhere near the other boys, let alone start fights with them. He had seen them get into plenty of miniature wrestling matches while Derek kept his distance. Why would Davidoff lie to this man?

"From what I can see, Derek doesn't have much of a social reach. I doubt he's starting farces with the other boys."

"Why have you come to see Derek in the first place, Kit? I thought the trial against his father was over. It took long enough, I'd of thought you'd have your bags packed a long time ago."

"You're right. The case is over. In which case, that man is no longer legally his father. Not that that man was ever psychologically correct as a father anyways. Trialed for child abuse and first-degree murder of his wife? To say the least, I'm relieved the case is finally over. And since my job is done, my contract fulfilled, I no longer have to remain professional and un-biased. I'm here to adopt Derek."

Derek's heart skipped a beat, and once it started again, it fluttered with excitement and disbelief. Granted, Derek didn't really know what they were talking about with his parents. He didn't remember them, and was always told that his father was a bad person. When he asked about his mother they said he was too young to have done anything about it, let alone protect her from his dad's monstrosity. Derek didn't know what any of that meant, but he knew it hurt.

But this- he had never seen any of the other boys being adopted, though, they were constantly told that one day they will be. That a family would want them. Only, they shouldn't get their hopes too high. Derek especially was always told this.

"Come now, Kit. Think this through rationally. Do you really want this kid after the mess he has been through?"

"That's exactly why I want to take him in. After everything he has been through, he belongs in a nurturing, child-friendly environment. He deserves to grow up like a kid, a right that has been neglected of him."

"This case is different. You have to understand that Derek isn't like the other boys. What he's seen whether he remembers it or not can make him unstable in the future. Do you really want him around your boy, or your daught-"

"Marcel, I'm pretty close to the law and justice. If you want to continue to dissuade me, then be my guest. I'll just be forced to sue you and your entire organization. And I know you don't want that, considering the current state of this premises and the boys here. Filthy and scarred. I'll have you reported so fast you won't even realize the transition between this dump and the street." Mr. Bae's threat sent more shivers down Derek's spine than Davidoff's ever had. They were thrilling.

Davidoff made some kind of sputtering noise and Derek could only imagine the look of disbelief on his face.

"You're bluffing, Kit Bae. You aren't that high in the world of law. You're barely beginning you're career."

"Well, I'll say by my most current case, my status as a rookie is already pretty high," Mr. Bae chimed innocently. There was a dramatic pause between the two. A minute passed, then two, then- the door swung open. Derek jumped away from it instantly, eyes wide with guilt for being caught eavesdropping. But he was greeted by Kit's soft grin, as he once again knelt down to his level and hesitantly placed a hand on Derek's shoulder.

The boy couldn't help it, as much as he wanted to trust this man he still couldn't help but flinch away from his touch.

"Listen, Derek. I want to take you home with me, okay? You won't have to live here anymore," he whispered softly, so soft it was as if he was trying not to scare Derek away. When Derek didn't reply, Kit quickly added, "Oh and don't worry. I have a son. You two can be pretty good friends." Derek scrunched up his nose at this, knowing he didn't care to much for the other boys he already lived with. But he wasn't about to be picky, not when something so wonderful, and yet, so terrifyingly unbelievable was happening to him. Kit chuckled at Derek's given face.

"Trust me, you two will get along just fine. If you want, Simon will do all the talking. He's quite the chatterbox."

Derek stayed silent, partially still from fear, but partially from shock. He was being adopted. Someone wanted him in their family. Him.

"Of course," Mr. Bae's eyes clouded in slight worry, like something was on his mind and the idea bothered him. "It's all up to you, Derek. This is your choice. Do you want to come live with me, son?"

Derek really didn't have to consider. He already knew his answer. It was working up the courage to finally nod slowly, but firmly, that was hard for him. And he was so glad that he did, because deep down he knew- he knew- it would be the last time he saw Davidoff's disapproving, ghostly eyes.

Derek strongly believed that he had never been outside before. The windows in the house had always been boarded up, holding the mysterious outside world out of his reach while he remained in the dark. He knew that if he had been outside- which Kit assured him, with a biting tone of disdain towards Derek's small confession of never having done so, that he had when he was much younger- he would have remembered it.

It was brilliant. It was the most beautiful, extravagant masterpiece he had ever laid his eyes on. He had seen pictures in his book, but the insignificant ink didn't do the real deal any justice. The gray clouds blanketed the sky, and Derek knew from the book that this meant there was a storm coming. The air was surprisingly warm though, as it whispered past Derek's frame. The light gave everything a more vibrant color, even the dying straw-colored grass below his feet as he stepped onto the lawn. Derek was sure it was even better when the sun was out.

Mr. Bae lead Derek to a beat-up green van, ushering him into the front seat. Derek staggered himself in with all the anxiety and uncertainty in the world. He had never been in a car before. Or at least he never remembered being in a car before.

And once Mr. Bae had pulled away from the decaying, white, two-story house- whose exterior Derek hadn't recognized before- and was actually having the vehicle move down the freeway, Derek realized he never wanted to be in a car again. The ride was frightening. Everywhere Derek looked there were cars and buildings heading straight for them, but Mr. Bae did his job and maneuvered around each obstacle as if it were second nature.

Derek wasn't too sure about where they were exactly. For too long he had been stuck in isolation and the outside was entirely too overwhelming. Feeling physically and emotionally exhausted, Derek let his eyes droop.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up to complaining cries and screams.

"Ow, Tori! Get off of me!"

"Not until you give me my gamepad back!"

"It's broken!"

"I can fix it!"

"Guys, guys!" Derek heard Mr. Bae shout, his own body seemed to vibrate from the sound. He peaked his eyes open, first taking note that he was propped against Mr. Bae's back in an awkward piggy-back ride. Then his surroundings swallowed him, some kind of warm entry way that opened wide to a small living room where on the rug, Derek was met with an odd sight.

Sprawled across his stomach was a small boy whose shoulder blades were straddled by a dark-haired girl about his age. Her fingers were twisted and knotted into the disarray of blonde atop the boy's head. They both struggled and shrieked until Mr. Bae's voice caught their attention. They both froze and glanced his way.

They instantly forgot whatever it was they were fighting over- which was held in the boy's outstretched hand- and quickly staggered up, colliding into each other in the process. The girl shoved at the blonde half-heartedly, both their eyes locked onto the stranger perched on Mr. Bae's back.

"Simon, Tori," Mr. Bae said sternly. "Where is the babysitter?"

They both looked at each other then shrugged, eyes moving back to the boy. With a sigh, Mr. Bea maneuvered Derek off of his back and gently placed him on the floor, the other two stared at him curiously.

"While I go find that poor girl, you guys can get a little acquainted before we have dinner. It's Thursday after all. Tori, Simon. This," Mr. Bae gestured to Derek who was slowly moving his way back into the entry way in nervousness. "Is your new brother, Derek. Derek, this is Simon and Tori." The man nodded before retreating behind a door that Derek assumed to lead to the kitchen.

Tori was the first to react. She bounced up to him, nearly a head shorter than himself, her short hair flipping this way and that. She sized him up with her eyes before wrinkling her nose.

"You smell like a dog," she sneered. With that, she turned back to Simon, wrenched the gamepad from his hands and stormed after Mr. Bae.

That girl was supposed to be his sister? Mr. Bae hadn't mentioned a sister.

Simon approached him much slower than Tori had. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes that mirrored his dad's lit up with excitement.

"How old are you?"

Derek glanced around, unsure as to how to interact. He had never talked to the other boys, but that was because they were always mean and pushing each other around.

"I'm four, and three-quarters. That means I'm almost five. Dad says that next year, I get to start kindergarten, and that all the girls are nicer than Tori." He said all this with a cheeky grin, but he held Derek's eyes expectantly, waiting for him to answer his original question. How could he resist such an inviting smile. It scared him how warm the smile made his insides feel, but he liked it.

"I'm five."

"So you're already in kindergarten," Simon asked credulously. Derek hesitated, he knew about school, but they had always told him it was a waist of time and money they didn't have. Derek resorted to teaching himself. He shook his head.

"Really? Well then, we can just start kindergarten together. Right, Derek?"

Derek couldn't help it, Simon's smile was just so addicting and friendly, and Derek was sure he was different than the other boys. So he nodded, and he smiled back sheepishly, beginning the greatest friendship he would ever have.

"Right, I remember. You really did smell like a dog, bro," Simon said. He fell back against his bed, resting his arms behind his head. Derek rolled his eyes and snorted.

"And anyone is still nicer than Tori." Simon laughed at that, then sent his brother a questioning look.

"So, you alright?"

Derek glanced out their window, the wind had picked up in their sleep, swaying the trees that scattered their grand yard. Every shape was shadowed, leaving any who looked at them uncertain, but more aware of their world. Where as before, Derek had never known what was possible of the outside world.

He hadn't been aware of the possibilities of his dad, of Simon, hell, even Tori. Possibilities like- like Chloe.

If Derek was uncertain about anything now, it was that girl.

Was she just as uncertain about him?

Derek sighed, too tired to delve into his regular mind-reeling obsession. He glanced back at Simon, knowing one thing was for sure.

"Yeah-" he paused, feeling uneasy to continue. "Um, thanks- Mph!" Derek was cut off by a mass of white smacking him across the face. He glared at the perpetrator playfully, who scowled back just as animatedly.

"Come on, man. No need to get a gushy and sentimental about it."

Derek snorted. Yes, he knew one thing for certain. His past was his past, and no matter what, he had Simon there to watch his back. Even as corny as it sounds, Derek wouldn't have it any other way.

Okay, honestly, this was really hard to write. If it shows, please let me know- especially suzi and Lauren. Other than that, you guys know the drill. Comments, questions, concerns, critic, requests? Leave me a review!