Arch 1 - The Lost And The Damned
Chapter 3 - Looking Glass, part 1

Her feet ached from the distance she had moved through, yet she forced herself to run faster than before. She could hear the heavy footsteps from somewhere in her back, and the way the man kept shouting her name, but she refused to glance back. She knew there would be no turning back if she were to fall down on the street.

A car's light glared deep inside her eyes, and she used the opportunity to dash into the alleyway she was passing by. There were no lamplights in the short path to the next square, nor were there any flashing lights in the buildings around, but the embrace of darkness didn't felt safe to her at all. That's why she made the dumbest decision of her life, and hid behind some big trash cans she spotted nearby. She was so relieved that the man had lost sight of her and ran ahead on the street, that she only noticed the torch's light when it hit her square in the face.

She shot up on the bed and paid no mind to the way she threw the covers away. Her head hurt and her world twisted around like a child's toy, and it was almost too hard a battle for her to fight down the bile that crawled up her throat. She managed it, though barely, and focused on getting her breathing back on control. Shame took hold of her cheeks when she noticed how close she had been to passing out from the heavy intakes of air she forced lungs to take.

"It was just a dream" she told herself as she laid back down and stared at the ceiling for the many hours to come. It was all too vivid, though, and for a second she felt true fear that it could have been something more than that - that it could had been real.

She didn't had the time to ponder about it, though, for her mother's words soon reached her ears. "Kiara..." She said from the other side of the door. She didn't knock on it, though. "We have visitors downstairs." She made a small pause. "Make yourself presentable and join us, okay? It is really important that you do so."

There was no underlying urgency in her movements as she wore her clothes. She took her time to feel the fabric of her jeans against her thighs and of her shirt against her chest. It wasn't entirely alien, but felt somehow soft at first, as if she was used to something rougher and far less comfortable. If she had to guess, she'd say the most familiar garment was her underwear...even if it's format wasn't all that comfortable. But, then again, that might be the exact reason why she found it so recognizable in the first place. She shook her head and put on a simple pair of shoes. Anything seemed fair game to keep her mind off of that dream, it would seem.

She risked a glance at the clock and was surprised to see it was about to strike nine o'clock. Had she really been staring at the ceiling for that many hours? If so, that was a bad habit she would have to work out of her life as soon as she could. Her sudden daydreams were problematic enough, that's for sure.

Her curiosity outgrew her apprehension, and she found herself walking down the stairs before she could change her mind. She eyed the people around the living room as the wooden steps cracked under her weight. Her mother was engaged in conversation with two police officers she couldn't help but notice were females. The fact raised flags in her head for some odd reason.

It didn't take long for one of the officers to notice her arrival. She turned her body to face hers and gave her a professional, yet warm smile. "I take it you're Kiara?" She nodded at the blonde and accepted her offered hand. "I'm Detective Clearwater, and that is my partner, Detective Mickelson" She pointed to the redhead, who offered her a small nod she wasn't shy to return.

"Look" The woman continued before she could ask her the questions that twirled around inside her mind. "I know you must be greatly confused and filled to the brim with questions, but we have a job to do here, and it would be easier for us all if you could cooperate with us. Do we have a deal?" She nodded. People seemed to tell her that a lot. "Great." The woman seemed relieved. Did she really expect her to throw a tantrum or something? She hoped that wasn't part of her personality. "Tell me, Kiara, what you think about we take a small walk outside?"

##

Their 'small walk' consisted in three blocks and a bunch of senseless conversation that only served to make her uneasiness grow bigger than before. She understood the blonde wanted to make her comfortable for whatever news she had in store for her - if any -, but her plan was backfiring in quite the specular way. Her fear of what was to come kept her from voicing her concerns, but she was almost certain the officer knew exactly what she felt. Her hypothesis was proved right when she guided her into a park and gestured for them both to sit on a crippled bench.

"Your doctor told us you have a major case of amnesia." She began as soon as they had settled down on it's wooden surface. "And that the last 'real' memories you seem to have are of being inside your room during a stormy night. Is that accurate?"

"Yes, officer" She bowed her head and stared at the grass that fought it's way up from the ground. Shame reddened her cheeks by the admission, and she could do nothing but try and hide it together with her face. She had thought about wearing a jacket, but her wardrobe held an astonishing total of zero of them.

"You can call me Claire, you know?" Her voice was gentle and filled with warmth. It was enough to hold some of her anxiety at bay, and for that she was grateful. She showed her appreciation through a nod and a shy smile she wasn't surprised the older woman understood. "So..." She extended the word after an awkward silence befell their shoulders for a minute or so. "Remembered anything new since you left the hospital?" She shook her head and averted. "No?" She did it again. "Not even a tinny little bit?" She did it with a smile.

"I thought my clothes felt really weird this morning, if it helps" she offered hesitantly. There was no possible way it could help, but it was something she could share with her, and that had to be enough. She had a strange desire to be helpful to the woman she couldn't really explain. It was probably for the answers she could provide, so she paid no mind to it.

"Not much" the blonde admitted. "But we have to start somewhere, and that's a good place as any." She let out a puff of air and put her hands inside her jean's pockets. There wasn't anything else she could contribute with. "What about things from years ago, though?" She gave the woman her full attention. She hadn't thought about that before. Her focus was zeroed on whatever the heck had happened to her, that she lost track of the 'bigger scene'. "Do you remember anything from then?"

She gave it her best, yet it didn't seemed to be enough. Her memories were but inches from her fingers. She could feel them there, just waiting for her to pull them into their rightful places, but could never grab them, for they escaped every time they got close enough for her to touch. It frustrated her how fast it was for her brain to stop her from getting what she wanted - what was rightfully hers.

"I take it is a 'no', then?" She nodded and once more averted her eyes. "My face is up here, you know?" She did not responded. "You don't need to be ashamed of your amnesia - it isn't that different from a cold. What you need is to be easier with yourself, 'cause it's not by forcing your brain that your memories will come back." She understood that, she really did...but it wasn't fair. Every since she could remember things didn't go the way that would be good for her. From the hospital bed and her lack of answers to her parent's house and it's lack of 'home'. Was it really so selfish of her to want her memories back?

"Look, Kiara..." The woman took a long breath, as if to measure her own words. She seemed uncertain as to how to continue her speech, but she couldn't really blame her for it. "I'm not really sure if it's a good idea or even if it's safe at all, but I can try and talk about some...events that have been happening around the world these past years, and you could try and remember something about them. What you say? Are you willing to give it a try?" She nodded. She wasn't that confident on her own memory prowess, but there was nothing left for her to lose, anyway.

"Okay...let's start with recent stuff and try to go backwards, okay?" She nodded once. "Right." She waited for the officer to keep talking, but all she did was to point at the few kids having fun at the playground nearby. "What do you know about the mutants?"

"Nothing but what the doctor said to me after I woke up. That they have been found around for the last ten years or whatever..." The woman looked at her in a funny way. "What?"

"Oh, it's nothing. It's just that I didn't realized you had a British accent - that's all." It wasn't the first time someone had mentioned that to her. She couldn't really comprehend what they were talking about, though. She always spoke like that...or at least she thought so. Besides, people couldn't simply get amnesia and start speaking in different accents if they never spoke them before...could they? "Don't worry about it, though." She nodded. It was slightly unnerving how many times she had done so during their talk. "The mutants were officially found during the last fifteen years, but there were some 'anomalies' found on people before that. None of them had survived past their fifth year, though, so the 'anomalies' were labelled as a disease. Something happened - no one knows what - and now children born with that same 'anomaly' are able to survive and live like anyone else. Well...not really, since they can do some weird stuff, like producing iron from their hands and whatever. Anyway, it didn't stop people from trying to pursue a 'cure' for them, and to try and force them to take it. Wealthy people like Tony Stark-" She winced at the name, and the officer halted her words and gave her an apologetic stare. "Sorry about that. My sister's kid was born with that stuff in her body, so I tend to get carried away with it. Sorry if I bored you with it." She sighed. "I knew it wasn't a good idea, after all."

"No. It was quite interesting." She reassured the blonde, but could not take the wince out of her face. The pain in her head had resurfaced as soon as she had said that man's name. "You were talking about Tony Stark?"

"Yeah...well, are you sure you wanna hear the rest of it?"

"Yes. I think-" She coughed a bit to clean the dryness from her voice. "I think I remember him. Can you keep talking, please?"

"Okay...but I'm gonna stop it if you get pain anywhere. Deal?" She gave the officer a nod. "As I was saying, wealthy people like Tony Stark had helped funding the researches on the gene, but they cut off their support as soon as the guys involved tried to force teenagers to try out their 'vaccine'. This caused a riot and..."

##

They spent half an hour browsing through different topics since they first started with the mutant one, but they didn't reach anywhere by the end of it. She knew that it was all due to what exactly they spoke about, and not due to the method itself. Tony Stark's name still echoed around in her head and brought up a varying arrange of painful stabs, after all. She needed to change the flow of their conversation, and she needed to do it fast.

"...And that's why they call those red fishes 'the real thing'...whatever they mean by that." They stared at each other for a little while and the blonde offered her an awkward smile. "I believe it didn't help you, after all, did it?"

"No-" She halted herself mid-speech. "I mean, yes, it did help me somehow."

"But?"

"But it wasn't enough." She admitted. "I think I need something...more." She gazed at the officer's face. "Could you tell me something else about that Stark person?"

"Y-yes, of course" The woman checked her watch and fumbled a few times with it. "But we need to be quick about it. I AM working on a schedule, after all."

"Thank you" She found herself smiling at her. There was nothing 'ultra rare' about the officer's willingness to proceed with their talk - even more so when she was clearly a blabbermouth -, but something deep inside her guts told her it was the right thing to do. It wasn't the first time something like that happened to her, too. "So..." She dragged the vocal long enough for her to form the perfect question in her head. "Who exactly is this 'Tony Stark' guy?"

"Well, Tony Stark was many things during the past couple of years, and he was never a 'small fish' before all that, too." She spoke as if reading it straight from a textbook. There was no familiarity in her voice. "I do believe he wouldn't be able to disappear if he wanted to, but it is really obvious that if there's something he really doesn't wants to do, it is to be out of the spotlight."

"He's that bad, then?" She could vaguely recall of someone like that. But, as far as she knew, it could be anyone else. The world was filled to the brim with people who didn't wanted to share the spotlight, after all.

"Not bad, just..."

"Eccentric?" She offered.

"Exactly." The woman nodded at her and made sure to shake her head to her next words. "Stark is always doing what everyone tells him he's not able to, and takes great pleasure in knowing he made it in the end. Though many judge him from his decision to 'be a guard dog', he is still kicking his Iron Man suit once in a while. They say a strange guy in a cloak took him through a portal or something these past days."

"Iron Man suit?" Now that sounded familiar. But, then again, it wasn't easy to understand exactly what each kind of pain was supposed to mean. If he was such a known figure around, it was no wonder his name wasn't alien to her...

"Yes. He used to build weapons and sell them to whoever had enough money to pay, but then he 'changed his heart' and began to make weapons for himself to use. Nobody knew it was him, at that point, of course, but the bastard had the guts to show his face and tell the world 'Truth is...I am Iron Man'." She made her voice deeper, as if that would help her recall it better. It didn't, but she wasn't about to tell her so.

"And was that and the mutant thing his only...magnificent moments?"

"Well, they say he formed the Avengers" She forced herself not to scream. The pain was so intense she sewed her eyes shut and gripped her head with both of her hands. "What's wrong?" She barely registered the woman's voice. There was a loud ringing in her ears and there was no doubt that she'd pass out if it kept going like that. "Shit, I knew this wasn't a good idea!" Arms pulled her back to the bench - when had she stood up? - and it was gone way faster than it took to begin. Only an uncomfortable headache remained as proof of it's existence. "Are you alright, Kiara?" She shook her head. Things were still too blurred for her tastes. "Kiara?"

"I'm fine!" Her eyes locked with the officer's, yet she refused to step back. She instantly felt bad for the harsh way she had answered to her concerns, though, and made quick work of averting her eyes. "I'm fine now, thanks."

"Are you sure?" She nodded, but didn't stared away from the grass. Where were those kids when she needed a good distraction? "Okay...okay." The relief on the woman's voice was palpable. She felt, ratter than heard the woman sitting back down on the bench. "I think it's best if we stop with this while we still haven't damaged your health."

"Shit. I don't think I can deliver you the news I was supposed to, now..." She wasn't meant to hear that part, that's for sure. But it picked her interest enough for her to gaze deep into the blonde's eyes. "Shit."

"Which news?"

"I'm not sure I should tell you right now." It was the woman's turn to avert her eyes. "I'll come back later and then-"

"Miss Clearwater..." Her begging sounded pitiful to her own ears, but she couldn't muster enough strength to care. She didn't meant to reach for the detective's idle hand, but didn't bothered to leave it alone after she noticed it. "Please. I have the right to know."

"I never said you didn't, but-"

"Please, Claire. Ever since I woke up on that hospital bed I've been trying to remember who I am - what I am -, and nothing ever makes sense. When I think I finally have it figured out, something else happens and I'm back at that bed. Please-" Her voice broke. "Please, don't take this away from me, too."

"I..." She saw her hesitate, and was surprised when she snaked her arms around her neck and pushed her against her side. It was comforting and warm, yet lacked something she couldn't really place. It was her troublesome mind's work, no doubt. "It will be alright, sweetie" The woman whispered against her ears.

"Tell me." She begged her again, and her eyes widened when she finally did.

##

[TW: Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse]

She eyed the mirror with a blank stare. The red towel she threw over it was still present. It perfectly covered it's reflective surface, yet couldn't hide it's borders. Her eyes traced the intricate decorations carved all along the wood, and desperately tried to notice something to remember them by.

Sheer irony swallowed her whole as the clock ticked by on the bedroom's wall. It was fascinating how fast her plans had morphed with the uttering of a single word. She had gone all the way from "desperate to remember any scarps from her past" to "desperate never to remember anything about her past ever again", only to settle with "desperate for the hollow to leave her be".

"Kiara..." The blonde started. Her voice still echoed perfectly in the depths of her mind. "We found undeniable evidence that you were a victim of sexual abuse." She remembers the way the woman's arms had held her right then. It was almost enough for her to feel safe. Kiara...we found evidence that you were raped."

The memory made her shiver in the most disgusting of ways. What fuelled the hollowness in her core wasn't the realization of what regaining her memory would entail, though. It was the realization of how small her feelings seemed to be in comparison to what happened to her. She didn't knew if it was her lack of memories that prompted her not to fell what she thought she should, or if the severity of the situation was yet to sink in, but it didn't really mattered, after all. All that mattered was to feel something - anything that would make the hollow go away. Unfortunately, it never left.

She shook her head and focused on the extra memories she had. Many things had happened since her conversation with the detective. Her mother had hugged her tight and cried on her shoulders long enough for the officers to leave unnoticed by her; they ate the best lunch she could recall, even though it didn't meant much for her to say it; they talked about some silly things and she held her mother for a little while longer, as she emptied her eyes once more; and when the sun settled down and the moon rose up in the sky, they dined with surprisingly lightness in their hearts. Most - if not all - of it was due to her father's absence, but none had the courage to say it out loud.

Her eyes closed tightly as she ripped the towel off the mirror's glass. It slipped away from her grasp and she felt it brush against her bare legs as it tumbled down to the floor.

It was with a shaking pair of knees and a bunch of gritted teeth that she forced herself to gaze at the mirror's reflection for the very first time. The lights were brighter than she remembered them, but they didn't obfuscate the figure staring back at her. If anything, they painted it with ethereal contrast.

The vision was utterly breathtaking and more than enough to captivate the depths of her core. She observed the way the young woman's short black hair cascaded down her neck to form the tiniest of spikes, and was mesmerized by the way her dark blue eyes stared straight at her own. They looked so hollow that her hands reached for them, only to be blocked by a shield of glass. It took her quite a while to escape the turmoil of her thoughts and understand who exactly she stared at - to understand that it was her, and no one else but.

She used her other hand to touch her short hair, and watched as her reflection duplicate her every move. It was a perfect copycat of herself, and, even thought she understood full well that it but an ordinary thing, it also felt too alien for her messed up brain to comprehend. She didn't held any form of dislike for her appearance. No. She rejoiced at the colour of her skin, the brightness of her eyes, the shortness of her hair, and even at the small scar that cut down beneath the supports of her black bra. But it still felt overbearingly awkward for her. It was like staring at the face of a twin - so familiar, yet so different at the same time.

Her reflection's eyes blinked when hers did not, and she knew that it wouldn't end well. She touched both her palms to the mirror's image and was surprised when all it did was to stare at her own eyes in return. Suddenly, it's lips curled back and six words echoed from the depths of it's glassy mouth: "I think we need to talk."