Author: Bastille Kain

Title: Come As You Are

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters of any show or other medium; comics, movies, and books that are unfortunate enough to be used here all belong to other people. Again I own nothing and make no profit from these writings.

Spoilers: Anything and everything.

Buffy has a new name, and no it has nothing to do with Joan. I am not saddling her with a martyr complex. At seventeen with superpowers and no chosen destiny that comes with an early expiration date Buffy would have a blast. Saw it on several occasions: Telepathy/ Invisibility/ Amnesia. Kara (I Forget if Supergirl/Powergirl is Buffy's Favorite Comic Book Character or SMG/not that this Buffy knows who Kara Zor-El is. Those memories are gone, maybe never to return. She just knows she likes the name.) Celia (Buffy's cousin that died as a child, killed by a demon if I'm not mistaken.) Walker (The woman that has generously opened up her home to a total and complete stranger.) Birthday: August 5, 2000 which would be seventeen years before Patricia Walker finds her outside her door. As far as the languages go, her increased fighting skills, even her preferring to go barefoot all stem from the amnesia and her almost intuitive reliance on her connection to the slayer collective (For lack of a better term). She possess skills and knowledge that have been lost to antiquity. Shoes are a relatively modern invention when compared to how long the slayer line has been around and for most of that I'm assuming Slayers, like most people, went barefoot.

I know in the comics the hand is often referred to as demon ninjas or ninja demons or something and in the NetFlix Marvel Universe their five elders resided for a time in the mystical city of K'un Lun before they were banished so they, and possibly Danny might ping on her supernatural radar but nowhere near what a being like Thor would or Dr Strange, Ghost Rider, Blade or any other vampire or demon. Their regular foot soldiers I don't know. Food for thought.

Summary: Buffy/NetFlix Marvel Universe/Marvel Movie Universe Crossover. Starts a few days prior to NetFlix's Defenders. Patricia Walker discovers a young girl, 15 to 17 years old, just outside her apartment who has suffered a severe neck injury. Accompanies her to the hospital. When she wakes up it is discovered she is suffering from amnesia.

Pairings:

Rating: MA-18. Just to play it safe. Eventually there is going to be adult themed subject matter, gratuitous violence and explicit sexual scenes not to mention strong language.

Feedback: Is always appreciated.

Archive: If you like it that much, sure. Just be sure to let me know where it's going, and give me the credit, good or bad, for my work.

Musical Note: I like to use song titles or lyrics for story names and chapter titles. Come as You Are: Nirvana. LongWayToNeverLand: Headstones

Author Note: Not a big fan of author notes.

Enjoy the Story,

Kain

Come As You Are

Chap Two: LongWayToNeverLand

Kara, as she had legally changed her name to yesterday morning, smirked at the ease in which a person could adopt a new name. All that she needed to do was tell people what she wanted to be called and she was done.

She squatted on the concrete lip of Trish's balcony and easily maintained her balance. She didn't know where the names Kara and Celia came from or why they resonated so deeply; in her very core, but they had when she stumbled over the pair while researching names. Walker, well that one was easy.

Shoving her off into the New York foster care system… It would have been the smart thing to do; the easy thing, but that wasn't Trish. Instead she opened her home to a complete stranger. There wasn't a better way to honor someone so giving of themselves except to try and live by the example they set.

While adopting her new name had been easy, if she wanted to do more than skate by; like get a job, attend school, apply for credit or take out a home loan, get a passport, she needed a social security card and for that there were forms that needed to be filled out and filed.

Jessica had put Trish in contact with a really good law firm; Hogarth Chao & Benowitz and then warned her that Jeri Hogarth was a grade A Bitch but she was one of the best attorneys in New York. Trish had contacted the firm and her case was handed off to one of their midlevel lawyers, a Marci Stahl.

According to Marci, it could take months for the Social Security Administration to pull their collective heads out of their ass, but that was normal for any bureaucracy. The simplest work around might be if Trish simply adopted Kara and then filed the necessary paperwork for a new social security card, the other way would involve Doctors and Psychiatrists; not to mention Judges and Court Orders.

Looking up into the night sky the sliver of moonlight provided enough illumination for her to see by, as if it were an hour before dusk instead of two hours before dawn. Kara closed her eyes and simply allowed the cool air to wash over her, caress her skin as she breathed in deeply. The scents of the city filled her taste buds even as her ears filtered through the myriad sounds; sorting, identifying and cataloging.

With a bit of a sigh Kara opened her eyes. She could sit there all night and never scratch the surface of all the information bombarding her. Dialing back her senses Kara glanced at the phone Trish had bought her and the video she's spent the last several minutes viewing.

It was a news clip of one of the masked vigilantes that roamed the city. Spider Man the media had dubbed him. He was fast and acrobatic, was able to cling to the side of a building, he had some sort of mechanical web spinners attached to his wrist, good thing he hadn't gone the anatomically accurate route, and was strong enough to catch a car before it could splat a kid.

At three thirty in the morning, she had managed a few hours of sleep but she was restless, bursting full of pent up energy. The only time she felt calm, at one with herself was when she rescued that girl from the gang of thugs that had abducted her and were in the midst of brutalizing her.

This was different though— like there was something she needed to do.

Turning her phone off, Kara dropped the device into one of the pouches of her back pack and then cinched the pack up tight, securing it on her back. No need to risk it falling off as she performed a field test.

Springing up, she cleared at least fifteen feet, twisting and spinning and flipping before she landed on the fingertips of her left hand balancing herself for more than a minute. Becoming bored she fell backward letting gravity take over and pull her to the street below. Reaching out she caught hold of a security bar over a window and bunched herself into a tight ball. Her feet hit the brick and mortar and she propelled herself across the alley where she caught hold of the fire escape and hurled herself upward clearing twenty feet with each jump… Each leap becoming more and more intricate as she began to add in complex acrobatics before she landed on the roof, a broad smile plastered on her face as the hood of her blue sweatshirt fell back and she quickly raced across the roof covering the hundred feet in a single blink. Her foot touched the concrete lip and she launched herself into the open air with a carefree shout and not a care in the world.

/ / /

Trish padded out of her room on bare feet and blink at the soft light emanating from her living room. She frowned for a moment until the aroma of freshly brewed coffee reached her nose and the events of the past four days crashed upon her. A head of soft blonde hair just peaked over the back of the sofa where Kara sat, her tablet easily balanced on her knees as she searched the internet. What she was looking for Trish didn't know.

"I left you a cup of that Double Dark Mocha you like so much," Kara called out without so much as a glance in her direction. Despite the ear buds Trish was more than positive were in her ears the tiny blonde had heard her. Or perhaps she had seen the light spill out of her room when she opened the door. Kara was aware of just about everything going on around her. What did Simpson call it…? Situational awareness?

"Thanks," she said in a voice barely above a whisper as she made her way into the kitchen.

"Welcome," Kara called back as she plucked her own over sized mug of dark hot chocolate from the table.

The light from her tablet changed several times as Kara quickly went through series of web pages. Trish poured her cup of coffee, added milk and sugar before making her way into the parlor with a quick glance at the websites Kara was perusing. She took a small sip of her coffee, allowing the warmth to spread through her body. "What are you researching this morning?"

With a, "I promise I haven't done anything yet", expression plastered on her golden, sun bronzed complexion Kara glanced up from the tablet. "I was just researching accessories I might need," Kara said in a tiny, "please don't be mad at me", voice.

Trish wanted to do nothing more than march back to her room, climb under the covers and wait another five minutes before starting her day all over again. She pushed down the urge to vent her frustration at whatever deity might be listening. "Kara, I thought we agreed…?"

"We totally did," the teenager affirmed. "And it's not like I want to go back on my word to you, but…" She stopped and appeared to be on edge; as if she had a reactor full of access energy she needed to burn off. "I did my morning calisthenics…"

Trish didn't even want to know what Kara considered calisthenics. The teenager slept maybe three hours a night, ate enough food to feed an offensive lineman. Aside from covering fifteen blocks up town and fifteen back she had no clue about her morning exercise routine except that it occurred in the predawn hours before any civilized human being was awake.

Running a hand through her blonde hair Kara finally said, "It's not enough Trish. Like there's something more I should be doing…" Trish set her mug on the coaster. "…There's this entire city out there and I've got these abilities…"

Kara stopped as Trish moved from the parlor's comfy chair to sit on the sofa next to the tiny teenager. Putting her arm over the girl's shoulder Trish pulled her into gentle hug, knowing that if Kara didn't want the embrace there was no way she could have budged her but one of the few things Trish had figured out over the last couple of days was the fact Kara relished the affection, practically soaked it up like a sponge, almost as if someone had withheld any sort of emotionally support for a long time.

"I promise you Kara," Trish began as she gently rubbed the teenager's upper arm. "Someday you'll get to help them all, but for right now you need to concentrate on you." She managed to get a good look at the tablet, the image on it. Some sort of grappling gun if she had to take a guess. A sister that didn't want to acknowledge that she was a hero and now a dependent… Daughter, a small voice whispered in the back of her head. A small smile shining in her eyes at the thought. …That simply couldn't wait to make a difference and her worried about both of them, if for completely separate reasons. "You're sixteen years old, maybe seventeen if we push it. What you need is to be concerned with is school. Maybe even getting your license, unless you never plan on going outside the city in which case public transportation is fine. Finding you a job, something part time…"

"The Avengers hiring?" Kara asked with a broad smile then went on to add, "I could so take Arrow Dude or Miss Red Head With An Attitude. Maybe even Col Popsicle and don't even get me started on Mr. Philandering Knight."

Trish couldn't help the smile even though she wasn't quite sure if Kara was serious or not. God, I really hope she's joking. The thought of her interview alone was enough to make her cringe. "So, high tech grappling gun?" She asked with a nod toward the screen.

Kara shrugged at the question before she said, "Safety precaution."

"Safety," Trish prodded.

"We know I'm strong," Kara said. "Maybe not Jess strong, but still… I can juggle your weights blindfolded. So strong, good hand eye coordination, wickedly fast with like hyper acute balance and amazing acrobatic skills. My senses are off the chart and I heal really fast. We can't forget the killer fashion sense, not that I put it to that much use. Still don't know how well I can take a punch and it's going to start getting cold, what if I slip on a patch of ice. Rather not find out if I can survive a five story," she shrugged and then added, "or a ten story fall after I hit the ground."

Trish closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She so did not want to think about this incredible young woman lying in an alley someplace. Safety was a good word. Kara's strong arms pulled her close. Like Jess, Kara didn't feel like sculpted marble or steel or anything else super hard.

"I was watching this news clip of Spider Man, and he has these web shooters thingies and I was thinking to myself… Self, I said and I actually said that," Kara said with a hint of a smirk in her voice and Trish couldn't help but smile as she opened her eyes. "Self, that is a mighty fine idea."

Trish shook her head slightly. She could so see Kara having that conversation with herself. "So you're planning on buying yourself a grappling gun?"

Kara frowned as she looked down at the image. "I think I might be able to build something along these lines, barring an accidental meeting…" Trish could almost hear the air quotes surrounding Kara's phrasing. "…with the web-slinger and getting him to spill the ultra, super secrete blueprints to his web shooters and the even more secrete chemical formulae to his web-goo. Maybe I could convince him to go into business together. Just think of what the cops would be willing to pay to get their hands on a non-lethal…"

"Kara," Trish cut in. Sometimes it almost took a super power to bring Kara to a halt when she got on a roll. "You're not going to arrange," she emphasized the word, "a meeting with Spider Man." She could almost see the wheels turning in Kara's head as she tried to figure a way around Trish's proclamation. "Now what do you mean you think you could build a grappling gun?"

Looking back at the tablet Kara offered her a shrug. "It's like with the languages or the fighting," she said with a bit of a frown. "Only it's a little different. When I look at the grappling gun I can see how to build it, build the pieces, how they'd go together but it's more than that. Like I can see how to improve it, the equipment I'd need to make the pieces. I'd need to draw up a set of blueprints and it's not like I want to go around shooting holes into people buildings which is why I so need to get a hold of Spider Man. He's already come up with a chemical formulae for the filament he uses." She glanced at Trish with a hopeful gleam in her eyes and asked, "Do you think he'd answer a personal ad?"

"Kara," Trish ground between clenched teeth. "You are not taking out a personal ad to meet Spider Man," she informed the teen in her best this is not going to happen voice that her own mother often used on her as a teenager.

"But…"

"No," she said with finality. Kara pouted. If she hadn't seen similar expressions on her own face when she was even younger than Kara from years of practice in front of the mirror it might have been enough sway her but as it was she found herself largely immune to Kara's pout. "Go, shower and put something nice on. We're meeting Marcie at the courthouse this morning. She was able to get your hearing pushed up."

"Really?" Kara murmured with a bit of hesitancy.

"Today we begin the process of turning you into a real girl," Trish said with a smile. Then just because she couldn't help herself she added, "And tomorrow we get to enroll you in a real school. See if that'll be able to burn off some of this boundless energy you seem to possess."

Sticking her tongue out at the older blonde Kara informed her, "You're evil," before lightly slapping her in the head with one of the tiny throw pillows.

Trish laughed softly as she deftly took the pillow from Kara and gave her a mildly playful shove to get her going. Finishing off her extremely caffeinated cup of coco Trish stood up and grabbed Kara's mostly empty mug and made her way around the island countertop and placed both mugs into the sink. Stepping into her home gym she groaned slightly. Kara hadn't been lying, the thought came unbidden as she took in the minor mess.

Three days ago she had been planning on a workout and stepped into her gym only to stop in her tracks as she witnessed Kara, blindfold firmly in place as she juggled a quartet of forty-five pound weights. She had turned around and walked out without saying a word, but somehow Kara had sensed her presence and a few minutes later the teenager had found her sitting on the sofa, a lost look swimming in her eyes. "Are you alright?" Kara had asked her with so much concern straining her normally carefree voice that it was almost physically painful to hear.

How do you tell a teenager that no, you are not alright. That your entire world view had just shifted irrevocably. And then tell her it was all her fault. Intellectually she had known Kara was like Jess, but Jess never seemed comfortable with her powers. Not like Kara. If anything the tiny blonde reveled in her extraordinary abilities.

Jess had tried to be a hero once…

But then Kilgrave sunk his mental claws into her.

How did she prevent Kara from suffering the same fate? Could she? Kara was so determined, convinced that it was her place to save everyone. How did she get through to her? Make her understand that right now the only person she owed anything to was herself.

/ / /

Keeping her eyes moving Kara attempted to watch everyone close to her as Trish, Marcie and herself made their way from Judge Richmond's private chambers, or Percival as he insisted they call him after their business was finished. He was youngish, for a judge, not much older than thirty-five, forty tops with light auburn hair cut short and kind, almost grandfatherly hazel eyes, a bit on the short side with more of a stocky physic from the fifteen or so pounds he just couldn't shed. Probably from the bear claw and extra sweet cappuccino he couldn't resist on his way into work each morning. There was also the week old scent of cannabis lingering on his fingers.

All in all Kara liked the man, a family court judge and the minor article in the Tribune had caught his eye; Amnesia Girl Found By Local Celebrity. He even admitted that when he spotted her case on the docket he had arranged for it to wind up on his calendar, he would deny any such claim they might make but if he could arrange something close to a happy ending he would.

They had spent nearly an hour going over the finer points of the case and what was going to be required of them, such as her staying out of trouble, keeping a low profile and so on. He suspected, but didn't actually know, nor did he want any sort of confirmation, that Kara possessed superhuman abilities. So long as she didn't make a spectacle of herself there shouldn't be any sort of mob clamoring at her door with torches, chains and pitchforks.

"Is everything alright Kara?" Marcie asked noticing the tiny blonde's almost hyper-vigilance.

"I'm not…?" Kara began as she shifted her gaze to the mezzanine above them. "I keep getting this feeling like somebody is watching… us," she told her attorney. It's not an us but a me, she told herself. If Trish and Marcie were of interest to whoever was stalking her, it was because they were close to her. "I'm going to go use the washroom before we get going… No telling how bad traffic is going to be," she told the pair and then added, "last thing I want is to be stuck in a taxi doing the potty dance," as she vanished into the press of people. "Meet you on the front steps in ten," she called back over her shoulder.

Marcie tried to track the teenager with her eyes but blonde was so tiny and she barely disrupted the flow of traffic as they moved from place to place. "Is it all right for her to just, vanish like that if she thinks someone is watching her?" Marcie asked Trish.

Trish gave the lawyer a slight smirk as she headed towards the front of the courthouse. A small twinkle shining in her eyes as a bit of early morning sun caught them. "If someone is stalking Kara, I almost feel sorry for them," she confided to the lawyer.

A speculative gleam flashed across Marcie's face as she stepped close to the other blonde. There were rumors floating around Hogarth Chao & Benowitz about Jeri Hogarth's special investigator Jessica Jones. That she was one of these special people and the man she killed a few months ago possessed powers as well, that he was in fact responsible for the death of Wendy. Not that the police did much, they wanted everything connected with Jessica Jones and the man known as Kilgrave to simply disappear. She didn't want to take the chance of someone overhearing the next part of their conversation. "So, what Judge Richmond said is true?" She asked. "That Kara is…?" She let the second part of her question hang there.

"I thought we could call him Percival? You know, while he wasn't being all official," Trish said as she managed to avoid answering the question.

Marcie flashed Trish a tight smile as they moved across the lobby floor. Keep moving and keep the smile in place so no one suspects you're anything more than a pretty face. "Don't let Richmond's little charade fool you. The man has political aspirations and he needs a hot button soap box to make his platform and there's nothing hotter right now than super-humans. It's a little risky on his part but he's using you and Kara, testing the waters as it were and you make the perfect chum. Especially for a shark like him."

Trish kept a discrete eye on Marcie as they walked and wondered what game the woman was playing at. As far as she was concerned there was only one way to find out. More than one way but she so didn't do subterfuge. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Unlike popular depictions not all lawyers are evil incarnate," Marcie told her earning a soft laugh from the radio host. "You're a good person and Kara seems to be cut from a similar cloth," she said before entering the security checkpoint. While the officers did their jobs she kept an eye out for Kara but the tiny blonde still hadn't appeared. As Trish stepped up to her she went on, "As you might imagine, I don't actually get to meet a lot of good people in my line of work…"

"Then do something else," Trish said. She couldn't imagine doing anything other than what she was doing. When she had started acting that had been fun but it hadn't taken very long to shatter her illusions. Acting was work and lots of people depended on their paychecks which meant they had depended on her.

"I like my job," Marcie told her. "I'm good at it. I get to compete in a man dominated field and because I'm smarter than the majority of my peers, I win far more often than I lose."

"I can see modesty and humility got left on the cutting room floor," Trish noted with a friendly grin.

Marcie matched the smile with one of her own. "Highly overrated if you ask me," she replied.

/ / /

Kara slipped out of the vent, landing in a crouch on the courthouse roof. There were plenty of hiding places up here, lots of little nooks and crannies but her stalker was up here, of that she was sure. Their little game of hide and seek had led her all the way up here, from one floor to the next. Just as she'd get close he, and she was positive it was a he… Or maybe an it. Could definitely be an it, just like that Pennywise character King did that god awful TV movie about. He would vanish only to reappear a few seconds later but always above her until now.

Standing up she called out, "I know you're up here. No sense hiding," she added striding confidently to the center of the roof.

From behind her a man began speaking, "Who…?"

She spun around at the very first sound of his voice, just managing to keep the surprise from her green eyes; he hadn't made a sound getting behind her. He had some way of making himself completely silent, or invisible to all of her senses because she hadn't smelt him either and with the amount of cheap liquor wafting off him she would have definitely noticed that, especially with the irritatingly erratic wind that insisted on blowing her hair around. Or he had some way of instantly transporting himself from place to place.

"…said I was hiding kiddo?"

He was wearing a cheap rumpled suit and leather fedora that should have stayed buried in the sixties. There was a bit of extra meat on his bones which probably meant he didn't miss very many meals and there was a sort of boyish quality to his face but his eyes… His eyes were older than old but they were filled with an abiding sadness; a deep pain he tried to hide behind a mask of forced cheerfulness. He looked broken. He lifted a brown paper bag and took a long pull from the bottle that was almost hidden within the bag.

"Who are you?" She demanded in something close to a growl.

Lowering the bottle he took her in from head to toe. "Always were one to go right for the jugular," he said with a smirk as he lifted his bottle and took a quick sip.

"I asked…?"

"Good to see you made it one piece," he cut her off. "More or less," he added with a cryptic lilt to his voice.

Kara scowled at him. "You know who I am?" She questioned. She so wanted answers out of him. Maybe a good beat down would convince him to give her what she wanted.

"Who you are," he took another pull from his bottle as he turned slightly putting her out of his direct line of sight as he looked towards the sun. "Haven't really got a clue Kiddo." His voice was filled with the same pain she had seen in his eyes earlier.

"Then you know who I was," she countered.

"Need to know," he answered as he walked toward the ledge. After a couple steps he stopped and added, "And sorry to say… You definitely don't qualify. 'Bout the only thing I can tell you is that you made some very powerful people, and when I say people I don't actually mean people, nervous because of something that happened to you. You no longer fit in with their plan so they decided it was time for you to go."

"Could you make that any more vague?" She grumbled softly as she took a couple steps closer to him, trying to keep him within lunging distance in case he decided to pull a runner. "If you know who I am why won't you tell me? It's tearing you up, and aside from a desire to turn your ribcage into a fashion accessory I don't know you from spit."

He laughed at that. It was a deep rich sound. "Trust you to remember that," he said with a bit of a chuckle.

She took another step closer. If he was unnerved in anyway by her nearness it didn't show as he continued to gaze at the sun. "Why won't you tell me anything?"

"Sometimes Kiddo not knowing is a blessing," he answered. "Telling you what I know, you'd lose everything again and this time… There wouldn't be any coming back. Not for you, probably not for me either." Turning around he took her in again as if locking the image in place. "You have a shot at a good life here Kiddo. Better than you were going to have. Do you really want to risk what you have now for something you can never have again? Risk the people you care about here? Trish and Jess… That sexy little lawyer that's helping you and her boyfriend. Who the hell actually lets people call them Foggy? There's even that Judge and his niece and nephew, don't drop your left when you're dealing with him."

"You keep your grubby hands…"

"Not my hands you gotta worry about Kiddo."

Kara wanted to lash out, wanted to beat this irritating person, thrash him to within an inch of his miserable, misbegotten… She wanted to watch his life slip away, just slowly ebb out of him one heartbeat at a time. "Get away from me," she told him in a soft, menacing voice.

"I wish…" He started but stopped himself from finishing his desire. The sadness and misery were back and for the briefest of moments she thought he was going to relent and give her all the answers she wanted. Between one instant in the next he was gone. Simple vanished as if he had never been there.

She dropped to her knees and wanted to scream. Wanted to vent and rage. Wanted to know if her decision had been the right one or if she had simply taken the easy choice? The known instead of the unknown.

/ / /

"Any idea where she went?" Jessica asked.

Trish frowned slightly at the implication in Jess' voice as she sat down at the table on her balcony to enjoy the cool august air. "There's an under twenty-one club a couple blocks away. I pointed it out to her a few days ago but she didn't seem all that interested in going until tonight."

"You mean after you let her confront a stalker at the courthouse? How'd that go by the way?"

Settling her cup of tea on the glass table top, Trish shrugged slightly despite the fact Jessica was somewhere across town. "Not as well as I expected. With how you went on with how well she could fight and how she's almost as strong as you…? I don't think this was your typical type of stalker. By the time she reached us she seemed, I don't know… Withdrawn. Like there was this weight dragging her down."

"I was more asking about the court thing not the stalker thing," Jessica comment and Trish could almost hear the amusement in her voice.

"Good," Trish said. "Richmond signed off on getting her a social security card. He went through the medical file, well had a doctor give him the pertinent information. The same with the shrink's evaluation. Then he spent about half an hour questioning Kara. Did you know she made the paper, Amnesia Girl or something like that?"

"You mean the one that goes on about local celebrity Trish Walker who's quick thinking and profound selflessness helped save a severely injured girl?" Not for the first time Trish would have liked to possess the ability to reach over the phone and throttle her best friend. "Nope, haven't read a single word of it."

"Just in case you've forgotten, don't ever go into comedy," Trish reminded her.

"So before the whole stalker thing Kara seemed fine with getting one step closer to you officially adopting her?"

"I think so," Trish answered. "She seemed excited. We were talking about checking out the schools in the district. It would be easier if we could narrow down her field of interest…"

"You ever think a plain old high school might be best? Let her discover herself. I mean it's only going to be a couple of years and then you're talking collage," Jessica pointed out.

"Christ," Trish swore. "I didn't even give that a thought. We're supposed to be doing some sort of high school placement test this weekend. Eric, Dr. Holirveind did some sort of IQ test the other day, he said it was very basic and not up to the modern standard they use when studying someone's intelligence but it would give them a starting point."

"So, Eric…?" Jessica teased her best friend. "Is he cute?"

"He's Kara's doctor Jess," Trish replied with several levels of eew in her voice.

"That's a hell no, he's butt monkey ugly then?" Jessica interpreted Trish's response.

"God no," Trish corrected Jessica. "He has got an ass you could bounce a quarter off of," she said extolling one of the doctors best physical attributes. "And his eyes. They're these ocean blue color with tiny little flecks of green."

"So does Kara know you got the hots for her doctor?"

Trish scowled at her phone for all the good it did her so she went with a rather simple but still effective, "Shut up. And try to get some sleep tonight. Real sleep; not that passed out, drunk thing you do so well."

"Night Trish."

"Night Jess," Trish replied hanging up her phone. Slipping the cell into the pocket of her robe she took in the New York skyline as she took a deep breath. Shifting her gaze slightly she stared in the direction of the club Kara should be at right now. It wouldn't take much effort on her part to find out if she was there but she restrained herself, she needed to trust Kara and Kara needed to know she could trust her. At least this time she had left by the front door instead of some Olympic level gymnastic routine that involved fire escapes, security bars, drain pipes, and the occasional flag pole.

She had given her a time to be home by and instruction about picking up guys or as Jess suggested girls. She wasn't naive enough to believe Kara was a completely innocent teenager, the girl's favorite song was, "I Touch Myself", from the Divinyls. The song was thirty years out of date but she knew the lyrics by heart. At least now she was delving into more modern music and movies, almost like she was attempting to catch up on the last twenty years that had somehow passed her by.

Then again there was nearly a twenty year gap in what she knew. Between ninety-eight and now there was a vast void of, when she learnt the Twin Towers were no longer standing she demanded to know what had happened. She instantly got the Nine One One reference when they told her that a group of Islamic extremist had hijacked a pair of planes on September Eleventh Two Thousand and One and flown them into the massive buildings, the resulting fires causing the Twin Towers to collapse, killing close to three thousand people. She knew absolutely nothing about the Chitauri invasion that took place on May Tenth Twenty Twelve, or any member of the Avengers aside from information she's downloaded since her arrival. The X-Men, mutants, super-humans and the like were a complete mystery to her.

Yet she could close her eyes, meditate for a second and describe to you in aching detail the city of Berlin, the rising tensions in the city as an extremely charismatic Adolf Hitler rose to power. And she told the story in perfect German for the time period. She had checked, playing the recorded session to a noted historian at NYU. After that she had cancelled follow-up appointments with that psychiatrist, a borderline quack as far as she was concerned that went on and on about repressed memories and past life experiences. The last thing she wanted to do was expose Kara to that sort of thinking…

But what if it's true? A little voice nagged in the back of her head. What if she is some warrior woman reincarnation or constantly flung forward in time after each death she suffers? Doesn't she deserve to know that? The voice argued softly, insistently. In a way it made sense. It would explain the languages and the knowledge gaps.

Picking up her cup of tea she took a sip and frowned. It was cold. Somehow sitting out on her patio she had lost track of time. "Too much thinking," she tells herself as she stands and makes her way to the door. Taking a look back towards the club she hopes Kara is having a good time.

/ / /

"Amara," the taller blonde introduced herself to Kara as the pair waited for the bartender to make his way down to them.

Turning slightly to get a better view Kara flashed Amara a tight smile. She really wasn't in the right mood to hang out with a total stranger. Only she didn't want to be alone, but she didn't want to drag other people down with her which was why she came here when Trish broached the subject of going someplace with people her own age, instead of hanging around old people. Not that Trish or Jess were actually old, they were just older. This was her chance to kind of get acclimated to her own age group in a neutral environment and what has she spent the night doing…? Sitting at the bar, ignoring one cute guy after another and nursing a strawberry flavored smoothie.

"Kara," she said as the bartender, James if she remembered his name correctly, finally arrived. He was a tall young man, four or five years older than her suspected seventeen. Of Native American descent, Apache if she wasn't mistaken, he had dark brown eyes with a thick mane of long jet black hair. At a few inches shy of seven feet and the physique of a professional wrestler he was a mountain of a man.

Amara gave him her order; a cherry coke, a bottled water, and a virgin White Russian. While he was there Kara asked for a fresh strawberry whatever it was she had been nursing. "I'm pretty sure everything in this club is virgin," she told Amara as the girl waited for the bartender to return with her drinks.

"Quae non est virgo in clava," Amara said as she gave Kara a more than friendly appraisal.

Kara felt the temperature in her cheeks heat up at the other blonde's look. She was more than grateful for club's low level of lighting. "Ego certus non placebit sibi, si quid aut contumeliam fecerit?"

Amara frowned slightly as she stared at Kara. After a second or two her eyes lit up and a broad smile spread across her face. "You speak Latin?" She asked as a plan began to form in the back of her head.

James returned with their drinks, on a fake silver platter. Kara shrugged lightly as she said, "I have a thing for languages," without any further elaboration while she reached into her pocket to pluck one of the bills there out to pay for her drink.

Amara quickly waved her off saying, "I've got it," as she handed James her credit card.

"Um… Thanks," Kara said a little hesitantly.

"Don't thank me yet," Amara advised as James returned with her credit card. She tugged on Kara's arm a little surprised that it didn't budge. The petite blonde looked like a slight breeze might be enough to knock her over. "Grab the tray," she requested pleasantly.

Kara wanted to roll her eyes but instead she turned to James and said, "áho," as she grabbed the tray full of drinks.

James offered Kara a pleasant smile as she turned her back and followed the other blonde. He pulled out a towel and wiped down the counter. The little blonde had been decent company while she sat there; engaging a number of people in meaningless conversation. He kept a discreet eye on the two blondes as they made their way up a flight of stairs before disappearing into one of the private rooms.

Kara felt James eyes on her for a moment as she and Amara made their way up the stairs. "Don't worry about Guido and his twin Guido," Amara called over her shoulder as she led her to the top of the stairs. "My uncle owns this place so I think they get paid a little extra to make sure I don't have too much fun."

"Your Uncle…?"

"Old world money and influence," Amara confided as they reached the top of the stairs and she led Kara down a short corridor. They turned right at the first intersection and then into the first room on the right. "Sorry guys," she said to the group of girls inside the room, "but I ran into someone I think can totally help us out with our problem?" She said with a hopeful smile on her face. "Roubpheap Sramol," a tall; dark hair girl of Asian American descent, "Theresa," a red hair young woman with striking green eyes and only a few inches taller than her nearly five feet three inches. "This is Kara, and she just might be the answer to our Professor Ramsey problem."

For a moment Kara thought she had walked into a really bad, really inappropriate joke. The kind that starts off; a Mick, a… Just go ahead and insert your racial slur… walk into a bar. "How's that," Roubpheap asked.

"That suites you," Kara said watching the younger girl. "Your name… Silhouette. I don't know. It just suites you."

Amara flashed her friends a smile as she said, "Kara here has a thing for languages. Finally we can beat Ramsey at his own game."

"Wait a minute," Kara interjected as she set the tray of drinks on the table. "Who the hell is this Ramsey guy you keep going on about? A professor of some sort, so he probably teaches some class the three of you take together. I'm not helping you cheat," she said folding her arms as a stern look creeps across her face.

"It's not cheating so much as tutoring," Amara argued. "You'll get paid and everything. And Professor Douglas Ramsey is this linguistic guru. I don't think there's a language he can't speak. He's the faculty head of the language department at our school. You'd think he'd cut some slack for two people that have spent their entire lives speaking their native language but if anything he's even tougher on Theresa and Sil, just because they don't speak like it's coming out of a text book or because they never learnt how to write it."

"Just because I can speak who knows how many languages who says I know how to write any of them… Khmer, Gaeilge, or Latin?"

A light seemed to spark in Theresa's eyes as something suddenly clicked into place. "I knew you looked familiar," she said pulling out her cell phone and quickly searched for the right site.

"What are you talking about?" Roubpheap asked as she quickly looked over the redhead's shoulder.

"Amnesia girl," Theresa said as she pulled up the video of Kara, Trish and Jessica leaving the hospital.

Kara snatched the phone out of Theresa's hand, moving fast enough that Amara hadn't even seen her move and Roubpheap had barely caught a flicker. "What the hell?" Kara all but snarled as she watched the image replay several times. The urge to crush the phone was overwhelming. She pushed it down as she drew a slow breath. Silhouette was tense, ready for a fight while the other two simply appeared confused. "I'm out of here," she said tossing the phone back at the redhead, just enough off that she had to track the phone and not her.

Amara glanced towards Theresa for a fraction of a second but by the time she turned back Kara was already out the door and Sil was barely on her feet rushing toward the door. She reached the door before Amara but her head swiveled back and forth as she checked the corridor. "She's gone," she said as Amara forced her way into the hall.

"That's…" Amara started as she looked left then right. She looked back at Sil. "I've never seen anyone faster than you," she told her best friend.

"Please," Roubpheap snorted. "We've all seen the footage of Spiderman in action."

"I think you're all missing the bigger picture," Theresa said taking a place just behind the two taller girls. "Amnesia girl is like us and we've all heard Dwayne going on about recruiting new members."

"We are so not recruiting Amnesia girl," Roubpheap said. "And can we please stop calling her that. We know her real name."

"Do we?" Theresa asked. "We know the name she gave us," she pointed out.

"It says she left the hospital with local celeb Trish Walker, a radio talk show host and a, "As yet unidentified woman"," Amara pointed out. "Trish Walker won't be all that hard to track down. I've got aunts that listen to her show."

"So Walker leads us to Amnesia girl," Theresa said with a bit of a smirk aimed at Sil.

Roubpheap scowled at the red head. Theresa was a total pain the ass, raised by her uncle. A man on Interpol's most wanted list. A list that was normally comprised by the worst of the worst, of course he was classified as a mass murderer and a mutant terrorist. "Then what?"

Theresa shrugged as she said, "Hadn't really thought it out that far. Probably have to take it to your boy and see how he wants to proceed."

Rough Translation using Google Translate (Try to keep them in the order they appear):

Latin: Quae non est virgo in clava – English: Not everything in the club is virgin

Ego certus non placebit sibi, si quid aut contumeliam fecerit – English: I am not sure if I should be flattered or insulted

Apache: áho – English: Thank you (Not sure of the accuracy. From an English to Western Apache online Translator. If it's inaccurate please let me know so I can correct it.)

Cambodian: Roubpheap Sramol – English: Silhouette (At least that's what the Silhouette Wikipedia page claims. If that isn't correct let me know.)