A/N: Things get stranger in this part. We go into an AU (although it's still as accurate as I can make it). If you're confused at the end, don't worry. The idea is for you to have more questions than answers, and there are answers (I promise). Feedback is very, very welcome.

* * *

The girl walked out of the large double doors and breathed in the dawn air. The sun was bright even though it was only six in the morning. She walked lazily across the large green lawn towards a line of trees. There was a tall oak on the edge of the wood and she smiled at it briefly, like someone greeting an old friend. The girl is tall, around 5'9". She is thin, overly so, but the thinness is all muscle. Something about her says that she doesn't get enough to eat. She is wearing dark jeans and a grey, long sleeved round-necked top. There is a gold chain round her neck, the pendant covered by the material. Her hair is light brown, the colour of milk chocolate. It is long and thick, falling in waves to below her shoulders. Her skin is tanned, probably from sitting in trees, but her cheeks - which look as though they should have a rosy glow, are lily-white. Her eyes are steely grey. They shine with an inner light. She has bags under her eyes - it seems as though she has not slept a full night in weeks - but her gaze also shows determination, a spirit that will not be put under. They suggest that she will keep going until she literally drops from exhaustion. She is carrying a notebook and a fountain pen in one hand. The girl lifts up her arms to pull herself into the tree and as she does so her right sleeve falls down. There are a set of cuts placed down the side of her inner forearm. We can see that there are at least six. There is slight scar tissue around each one, showing that they have been there for a while and are never allowed to fully heal. She looks around eighteen, but she is older. Her eyes show that much.

She settles herself into the nook between the main trunk and a weighty branch. Her tall frame fits it in a way that suggests she has been sitting there for years. She opens the notebook and takes the lid off the fountain pen. It is a very good quality one, pre-pulse, obviously long used, but well loved and well looked after. She sighed softly and started to write.

I'm not sure I see the point of this. He says to write down everything that happens, and that has happened. Everything that has frightened me or hurt me mixed in with the day's news. It could take some time, but if it rids me of the nightmares ... I'm willing to try anything. I've been having 'em for a month, after well over a year bad dream free. I think I'd be able to deal pretty quickly, 'cept I can't remember them. I've started sleeping curled up under the bed again; something I haven't let myself do since I was a child. Something I've never even wanted to do here. I turned up on the doorstep seven years ago, aged thirteen, and it's the only place I've ever felt safe. Mind you, that was only after I got them to make a number of changes to security. I like it here. The people are moral, honest, and they know all I'm going through which makes life a lot easier. Life is good here, almost idyllic. I don't think that I've ever been so contented. But outside these walls, outside this place, the world is dangerous and frightening. It is not a good time to be one of us. Not that it ever was, or perhaps ever will be. Monumental changes are taking place, and I am sorry to say that here we have nothing to do with them. It is, I suppose, my only shadow. Although not being able to see my pack …

The girl glanced up as someone called her name, and we see that the notebook is not covered with English, but instead with a mix of Breeding Cult script (Minoan) and Ancient Greek. The girl sighs again, shuts the notebook and flashes her watch across an infrared scanner on the front. The book locks with an audible click.

Jonathon. He's ... a friend, I suppose. He's calling me. I'd better climb down. He's going to see me anyway. The girl glances at her watch and her eyes widen fractionally in surprise. No wonder. Seven o'clock, it's time for breakfast. She tucked the pen and notebook in her pocket, and gripped the branch between both hands. She swung herself down and dropped the ten feet to the ground. Jonathon smiled at her.

"Still climbing trees? Are you ever going to grow up?"

"Evidently not," she replied, meeting his gaze and his challenge. There was no answering smile on her face.

"Come on. He wants to see you."

She was surprised, again, although she did not show it. "Before breakfast? Do you know why?"

Jonathon shook his head. "What were you doing?"

"Thinking," lying was technically against her code, but this was not actually lying; she had been thinking. She had also been writing. So this was … withholding information.

"About your pack again?" He waited for her to speak.

She nodded. This was also true. She had been thinking about them, among other things, but then how could she not? "I owe them. I care about them. They care about me. They got me out."

"I know. I miss mine, and most of them weren't that nice to me. It must be tough, to be as strong as you are and have to be away from them."

She nods again, this time in acknowledgement, although she does think that this question is somewhat redundant. He knows that it's tough, he's seen the affects of … She managed to cut that thought off before it overwhelmed her.

He reached down and brought her chin up so that she was forced to meet his gaze. Her pulse rate almost doubled, and pre-existing barriers were brought up as she used this as an exercise in controlling her pulse rate.

"Just remember that there are other people who care about you. Go see him."

With that he walked away. The girl stayed where she was for a moment. She shook her head slightly in a mixture of wonder and terror. No one did that to her. Jonathon. She sighed heavily and tapped the notebook. There is going to be a whole chapter about him in here. He frightens me. A lot. I wonder what He wants. Guess I'll have to find out. Then she smiled slightly to herself as she started walking across the lawn. As a plus point, I'm going to miss breakfast.

* * *

"You wanted to see me?" The girl asked. She did not say 'Sir', but that was implied. As she shut the door behind her, the pendant underneath her top slipped forward. We can see that it is the Lady of the Sacred Heart.

The old man smiled at her affectionately, but his manner when he spoke was all business. "Yes. Have a seat, my dear. Leah thought it might be a good idea if we had breakfast brought up. What would you like?"

Damn. She thought, but aloud said serenely, "Toast and a boiled egg, please."

Leah served the girl, the man and finally herself. Leah is twenty-eight. She is a slender woman of medium height, with light blonde hair, but large dark eyes. She can see very well in the dark. She, like the girl is dressed casually in black bootleg trousers and a blue turtleneck jumper.

"We were wondering," she began "what your thoughts were on the Seattle situation."

The girl is picking at the food on her plate, trying to decide how little she can eat without being caught. She respects both this man and his daughter, and had abided by their orders while living in their establishment. Finally, she had to answer.

"You know what I think." She would look neither of them in the eye.

"Only in general, my dear." It was the old man who spoke this time. "I'd like to hear it in your own words."

The girl remained outwardly composed, but in her thoughts she frowned slightly. This was unlike them. "I think that we should be helping them. I think that we should be there. I think that if we're not, then we will essentially be committing mass murder."

The old man tried, and failed to hide his smile from her. Although she doubted anyone else would have seen it. I've got him on side. Who's this being played out for? The girl shifted slightly in her seat, and looked around, very quietly, very surreptitiously. She saw a man standing behind her. Ah. That makes sense. When Leah spoke again, she met the girl's eyes and a flash of understanding passed between them. She's with me in this too.

"I believe you have pack there."

"One member. Many have more." You know I do. When I first arrived, he wanted me to bring her and the rest of them in. You were for it too. It was the man standing behind me who met the idea with forceful resistance.

"Yes … well … Yours happens to be ... quite influential. We think that the Council should convene to discuss this matter. We would like you to present the case for action in Seattle."

There was no reaction on the girl's face. Her thoughts however ...

Oh, my. Oh, my All coherency was lost for a moment, and the girl picked up her glass of milk and took a sip to give herself time to reorder her thoughts. They want ME to speak. They've never let me speak. This was because the girl knew people. She knew how to manipulate them and how to get what she wanted. She never used it here. People almost always obeyed her orders without question anyway (much to her annoyance), but she'd never been allowed to speak in Council. They must really want action in Seattle. I wonder though, why he let them pick me. It was folly. This does NOT make sense. And yet … if I were to give the speech … I could get the pack together again.

She smiled very slightly and said, finally, "I'd love to."