Disclaimer: I don't own anything except plot and OCs.

I knock on the door a second time and wiggle in my jacket from the nipping air. Just as I reach for the door again I hear noise inside. Footsteps—half-asleep and clumsy footsteps.

I glance down at Annie, for reassurance, and nod to myself.

The door swings wide open. "Oh Jackie I knew you'd be…" Carly opens her eyes completely and frowns after studying my face. "…Not here."

"Do you know what time it is?!" is what she yells next.

"I know…I know and I'm so sorry for waking you up—"

"It's two by the way," she rambles. "A.M."

"Again I'm sorry."

She shakes off the apology. "It's okay. Come in."

I nod and walk past her. The room is pitch black, reminding me more of why I came. Carly flicks a switch somewhere on the wall and it floods the room with an off-colored brightness, more orange than yellow. She gestures to the table in the middle; it's cluttered with books and paper along with her camera and laptop.

I sit across from her and we don't say anything for a moment. The least I can do is let her wipe her eyes and slap herself awake.

"Sorry about the mess," she yawns. "Uh, what's up?"

My mouth twists to withhold the stupidity that is about to spew. "I-I just…have a bad feeling."

Wow. Much dumber than I expected.

"You sure it's not week old sushi? Because that's happened to me and let me tell you—"

"It isn't rotten sushi." My hands smack against the table when I stand. Carly squeaks and glances down. My hands come to my sides as balled fists when I say, "I may not know what it is but it's bad."

I stare at the tips of my shoes, kind of hoping she won't say anything when she does. "If your gut is telling you that then you've got to trust it."

"That's what I've been struggling with." I slouch back in the chair and stare at the ceiling. "I'm hoping it's wrong."

"Maria?" I hum to let her know I'm all ears, but remain all eyes with the ceiling. "I heard about what happened at Martha's. How's it going?"

"It's been boarded up. Everyone's convinced Sector Security has given up, too."

If they were trying in the first place.

"You can always try Ushio. He loves Martha and the kids."

"I bet he's busy."

"What about you then?"

"What about me?"

I know what she means but clarification never hurt.

"Still having those dreams?"

"Yeah."

"When was the last time you had one?"

"Almost a week ago." The ceiling and I aren't quite finished with our showdown but I know a glare when I feel one. Carly's face is deadpanned behind her chunky glasses. "What?"

"When's the last time you slept?"

Dammit, she's on to me. Guess I have to give those journalism skills of hers a big kudos. We hold each others eyes for a minute and I'm the first to cop out, pouting off to the side.

"Early morning makes you grumpy."

She smiles proudly, then switches gears. "Seriously, have you not been sleeping?"

"I can remember little things about the last one I had, but it's the big picture that isn't there," I state. "I just feel like I'm missing something. It could be important."

Carly stops for a moment, eyes clouded in thought. Abruptly, she plants her feet to stand and almost too dramatically, says, "In the Gut we trust."

She leaves the room and I ask her where she's headed. "I have an idea!"

There's lots of rustling paper and lids being popped open that comes from another room. She reenters soon enough with her hands behind her back.

"Hold on," she says, facing her back to me. "No peeking."

After finishing she shuffles toward me and outstretches her arms. "Ta-da~"

A brown moleskine is clutched between her fingers. I take it by the bottom corners and run a thumb over the bumpy cover.

"You may not remember everything," Carly shrugs, "but, this way, you can write down what you already know."

I glance at the notebook, then back to Carly. I lay the notebook on the table and try to go about this as casual as possible.

"Thank you," I whisper, arms gripping her shoulders loosely.

She returns the hug, pulling me in tighter than what I aimed for. Then we let go and I heave out a breath.

"Now go sleep."

"It isn't that big of a deal."

Carly shoves the moleskine back in to my hands and just when I think she's about to push me out the door, she turns us to the hall. The city apartment isn't very large; we come to her bedroom in a few steps.

"No no no no no," I say, pushing back.

"I know it's messy. I'll fix it up!"

She starts with the papers on her floor, scraping up one after another in to a shoddy pile.

"That's not what I meant…"

I should go back to Martha's.

"Is it the pictures?" Carly points to the walls. I hadn't even noticed them, but looking at them now, I see they are newspaper cutouts ranging from crime sprees to duel tournaments. Most of the dueling ones show Jack's smug face beside his bright D-Wheel. "Do they bother you?"

My head shakes no. "Aren't you going to sleep?"

"Huh? Oh, no," She grins, wide and sheepish. "I fell asleep writing an article that's due tomorrow. So I guess it's good you came knocking."

I eye the bed, still uncomfortable about taking it. "I can sleep on the couch."

"Shh. Stop fighting." Carly exits, then peeks her head back in. "Goodnight."

The door shuts softly.

There's pressure on my foot. It's Annie pressing her paws to my toes.

"Sorry. You have to stay on the floor tonight."

I give her an extra glare to make sure she stays put. I lay my shoes at the foot of the bed and pull off my jacket. Rummage through my pockets until the crisp paper falls in my hand. Out comes Mom's picture, crinkled and more worn than I remember.

The newspaper too, I guess.

I stare at it for some time, and lay it down beside me. This way, the wall of local convicts and self-proclaimed kings doesn't seem so intimidating.

Carly is nowhere to be found when I wake up. I hobble out from her room to find a note on the table:

Had to turn my article in ASAP. Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge and cupboards. Be back soon.

PS the mark is a dead-end.

—Carly

She had looked it up, most likely while I was asleep. What did she see? How could she be sure she didn't miss something? I consider waiting for her, whenever she decides to return, and bombard her with all my questions.

What will I do until then? Loiter around? I'm too awake to sleep again.

Reluctantly, I pull a pen from my jacket pocket and write:

Thanks for everything.

—Maria

The spare key isn't hard to find; I lock the door and place it back above the frame.

Martha's seems far away, and when I finally make it to the familiar, greenish patch of grass I round the house to look for a certain spot. I'd found it one day when playing hide and seek with the kids, a sectioned off opening between the walls of the house. I can fit in as long as I bend my knees.

Annie slinks under them and rests comfortably.

Voices trickle through from the other side. I try to solely concentrate on the notebook in my lap and the pen in my hand.

Part of me is screaming not to do this. I'm as edgy as I was a month ago and just as unconvinced. Once this pen touches paper, everything might as well be real.

I can't decide if that is good or bad. Both are horrifying.

When I open the cover, I see that I was fretting over nothing. The first step had been taken for me. On the first crisp white page is the mark in bold ink.

"Carly," I murmur.

She turned away from me for a second, that must have been when she did it.

A muffled yell seeps through the walls, shocking me out my daze. I inch closer and press my ear against it for clarity.

Something about old people? Or, specifically, an elderly man?

I take my head away since it isn't a conversation to be concerned over. What I should be concerned over is right in my lap. I open it again and trace the V shaped mark, even the little circle hovering it. Then I shut it after who knows how long and stomp up to the door.

A flash of white meets me as the door opens and for a split second I think of the night Annie left the scar on my hand, to chase the wispy figure. But I snap out of it and realize it's just Jack solid white coat.

I jump on reflex and the moleskine drops from my hands.

Jack arches a brow in question.

"You scared me," I mumble, which doesn't seem to matter. He turns out the other way, Crow and Yusei following after.

"Think you dropped this," says Yusei as he bends over.

"No," I say, louder than I should. "I mean, it's fine. I got it."

I lift the notebook from the wood planks and place my hands behind my back. My eyes avert away from their, knowing full well how suspicious I must seem, and pass through the door. I shut it, and inhale as much oxygen as possible before sighing.

"And where have you been?" Martha asks before I reach the stairs.

"Out."

"I noticed." I notice the edge in her tone. "You weren't at breakfast."

Martha wouldn't be upset about me leaving. If she had known it was at two in the morning, maybe, but I'm sure I was as silent as a mouse. What is it I'm missing?

I gasp, "A note—I forgot to leave one didn't I?"

She nods, lips firming into a straight line. "Mhm."

"I'm sorry. I completely forgot." I ask next the one thing that comes to mind: "Will you ground me?"

"Do you want to be?" she counters, face softening, almost like she's about to laugh. I shake my head. "You've got one more strike."

"Yes ma'am," I murmur, then run up the stairs to my room.

I rest on my bed sheets, holding the notebook to my chest, and try summoning the courage to begin.

I sit up, mind suddenly occupied with a different resolve.

"I have to take a shower," I say aloud, like I need to convince not only myself but every object in the room.

When I come back from the bathroom, the only decisions in my skull are about which way to dry my hair and what baggy shirt to wear.

Lunchtime comes around.

The kids ask me to play outside.

The guys and Saiga return as the sun sets, strolling up to the door with a boney old man.

At dinnertime we welcome him with a chair; he is now crowned as the newest guest, kicking me from my spot.

I return to my room and see that the moleskine is where I left it. It takes forever to decide, the moon is already past its peak and into routine descent when I do.

…prepared…be prepared…

I write this across the next two pages in bulky letters.

The voice echoing in my head sounds nothing like mine.

I hope I can write more Maria and Carly moments in the future~

Any comments, questions, or concerns? Why not drop a review! You might (or might not) just get a cookie o.o

TTFN