Author's Note
I do not own The Gifted.
Darkness stretched out around her, the land swallowed by the night.
A pair of pinprick lights found her eyes, slowly getting larger.
Some unfamiliar song was playing, echoing around the inside of the car and her head, upbeat and strangely electronic. She could feel her brother, half-asleep, at her side, his place, and reached for his hand, resting hers atop it. He startled a little, but didn't pull away.
She smiled. Peace, for a short amount of time. These were the only times they got it, these days. The rest of the time they always needed to be parted or testing, always testing, always training.
Those lights were moving wrong.
She straightened a little, reaching to adjust her skirt, but it was too short to be decent.
The lights were coming towards them, too large, too close, too fast.
The song was too loud.
And the world tasted like car.
This was another test.
This was real.
She tightened her hand around his, and he grumbled as he stirred. "Wake up," she whispered. "Look left."
He looked – and had he always been that young – the scream dying in his throat.
The truck barrelled down on them.
Their driver screamed, wrenching the wheel to the right, and the car skidded.
She reached out, throwing up a shield to deflect the truck. Escape attempts were useless if they died too. The truck spun sideways, twisting and turning across the road. She flung up more shields to keep it away from them as she waited for the driver to stop. They skidded to a halt a little further down and looked back at them. A woman, old enough to be her mother, with tears in her eyes. "Are you ok? Lauren? Andy? Are you hurt?"
"No," said her brother, and she startled, yanking her hand away. "We're fine. It didn't even clip the car."
"It's a miracle," whispered the driver.
Andrea only frowned.
Lauren awoke in a white room.