A/N: I'm going with the theory that Max and Isabel started school in the 3rd grade and that is when they will be entering my story, while Michael and Raelyn have been going since they moved in with Hank.


Chapter Four: Defining Moments

August 17th, 1991

Last night he had broken the kitchen table, the loud crash awakening them from their slumber. They had found each other in the darkness and waited until all the noises were gone, then crept quietly out of their room and through the shadowed house. They found him passed out on the kitchen floor next to the remains of the wooden table they had eaten dinner on just hours before.

It was then that they implemented their plan; combining Lyn's powers with Michael's cleverness, they managed to get all the bottles out of the cabinet and wash them down the sink, before silently opening the door and depositing the empty bottles into the neighbor's trash can and creeping back to bed, hoping that the new day would bring about new changes in their lives.

They did not notice the one lone bottle that slipped out of Lyn's arms and into the scraggly bush by the front door.

His bellow of rage woke them later that morning, sending icy chills of terror crawling down their backs. Without a word they left the room and grasped each other's hand with a desperate need as they approached the rectangle of light that led to the kitchen.

He was standing next to the fridge, the door to the cupboard they had emptied was open, and he was holding one of the empty bottles in his hand.

"What did you do?" he growled, anger mottling his face. They darted fearful glances at each other before looking back at the towering man, not knowing how to respond. He stalked towards them, his fingers white around the neck of the bottle as he loomed over them, glaring down with bloodshot eyes. "Did you do this?" he asked once more, shaking the glass bottle in their faces.

Michael tightened his grip on Lyn's hand before reluctantly nodding, his eyes widening in shock a split second before a fist collided with his head and he fell to the ground, stars in his eyes.

"No!" he heard Lyn cry as she flung herself on him, looking up at Hank with fury in her eyes.

The man merely glared down at both of them. "Don't ever touch my things again." His voice was low with menace and his eyes promised worse to come. Then he turned away and headed for the door, never seeing the glass bottle come flying at his head from where he had left it on the counter, Lyn's eyes pale and icy with rage.

'No!' It was Michael's turn to cry as he raised his own hand and halted it in midair, waiting with baited breath until the door closed behind the dark-haired man, and then letting the bottle fall with a crash as it hit the floor.

His sister turned towards him, anger radiating from every bit of her tiny form. 'Why did you stop me? He deserved it!'

'We can't use our powers Lyn. People will hurt us. Remember the orphanage?'

She slumped as the anger left her, replaced once more by fear. Tears welled in her eyes as she reached out and touched his face where he knew a bruise was forming. 'He hurt you. What if he does it again?'

He sat up and took her hand in his. 'I'll be okay. You have to make me a promise, Lyn.'

She looked at him with newfound wariness. 'What?'

'You have to promise me that if he ever hurts you, you'll tell me. I will stop him.' His mental voice was iron hard with determination.

She stared at him for a moment, understanding even with an eight-year-old's grasp of logic that that was wrong. Hank hurting her was the same as Hank hurting Michael. It was bad and wrong and it was not supposed to happen. But Michael loved her and he wanted her to be safe and to him it was not the same, so arguing with him would not help.

So she nodded her acquiescence as she reached back up to touch the already purple mark on his face, silently making her own promises. She was not the only one who needed protecting and even if she could not tell him, she could protect Michael, both with silence, and when they were older, with revenge. No matter what the nice teacher had taught them last year, sometimes people needed to pay for what they did.

February 14th, 1992

The teacher watched the two students sitting at the corner table with concern. The two had never been what you would call social butterflies, but there had been a marked decrease in the amount of time they spent socializing at all over the past few months, and it had become a rare occasion indeed if she saw either of them speaking to anyone other than each other.

Michael especially seemed to have no friends outside his sister while Lyn did talk to Liz Parker at recess, a little girl in Mrs. Bogue's class. The other teacher had suggested separating them and putting one in her class, but she had a feeling that would make the situation worse, not better.

She was worried about their home life. She knew they were foster children and their teacher the year before had given their foster father decent marks for participation and genuine caring, but she had yet to see that reflected in her class. He had only managed to make it to two parent teacher events, and both times something had seemed off about him, somehow fake.

And she was sure that she had seen a bruise on the little boy's arm that he had tried to cover up when he caught her looking. It could have simply been the result of a schoolyard fight, but it felt like more than that. She determined to go to the principal tomorrow and lodge a formal report.

The report never made it in; instead of writing it that night she was hit by a drunk driver on her way home from work. She survived the accident but by the time she returned to work, the children were no longer in her class, and all thoughts of them had long since passed.

September 1st, 1992

Raelyn stepped off the yellow bus, shading her eyes from the hot desert sun as she watched the children milling about the schoolyard. There was something almost electric in the air and she knew Michael could feel it as well. In fact, he had been feeling it longer than she had. The entire past week he had been tense and edgy in a way that had nothing to do with Hank's continuing drunken rages.

She slipped her arm through his and they walked towards their new classroom, both silent as they watched the laughing, happy faces surrounding them. As usual the teacher had seated them next to each other and they made their way to the small desks quickly, avoiding the chatting groups of children catching up from the long summer.

After a few minutes the teacher gently cleared her throat and the children scattered to their seats, all eyes falling expectantly on the figure in the front of the room. She had opened her mouth to speak when a knock on the classroom door interrupted her.

A few minutes of quiet conversation with the person on the other side of the door followed and then they were led in - A small blonde girl and a dark-haired little boy who made her skin tingle - and when she glanced at her brother she could tell that his reaction was much stronger; his hands had tightened on the edge of the desk until his fingers turned white and his warm brown eyes were wide with shock.

Two pairs of eyes, both dark brown, turned unerringly towards the two of them, time standing still as a forgotten bond snapped to sudden life. The teacher's voice broke through the barrier between them and the rest of the world as she introduced Max and Isabel Evans, their new classmates.

The shock of recognition ran through her brother's body like a jolt of electricity and she felt his sudden joy as if it were her own, accompanied by the image of an outstretched hand and two bright lights. The teacher seated the two across the room and she could feel the tense energy radiating from all three of them as the long hours passed before they were dismissed for recess.

Michael practically flew to his feet when the teacher opened the door, his hand grabbing hers and pulling her to her feet just as quickly as he practically dragged her towards the door and to the secluded corner of the playground where they usually sat, lost in their own private world while the rest of children played and laughed. Somehow the two were already waiting for them, the connection, though newly formed, already strong enough to lead them there.

It was a silent meeting, not filled with the loud exuberance you might expect at a reunion of that magnitude but rather silent gestures and meaningful looks, a wealth of information exchanged in a few long minutes.

The small dark haired boy was the first to speak, his tone holding all the familiarity of a long friendship."I'm Max. This is my sister, Isabel." He finished his short speech with a faintly questioning glance towards her brother, followed by an uncertain one towards her.

She could feel the confusion that the two felt about her presence and for the first time she wondered if her brother would still want her for a sister now that he had his real family, and they were his family. As if sensing her distress, his grip on her hand tightened and he pulled her forward so that she was standing right next to him. "I'm Michael and this is my sister, Raelyn."

The other two exchanged cautious glances and then the blonde spoke, her already beautiful, expressive face conveying her concern. "Your sister?"

He nodded firmly, leaving no room for dissent. "She's family now; I changed her." He raised their joined hands and turned them over, revealing the matching scars that crossed their palms, the only wounds he had never been able to erase.

Isabel relaxed, giving Lyn a friendly glance, clearly glad to have more family, but the boy, Max, looked even more worried. "Have you told anyone else?"

They both shook their heads in instant denial and then Raelyn spoke up, hoping to reassure him that she would never do anything to hurt any of them. "We would never. People, they would get mad and try to hurt us. We made a promise to keep it a secret forever."

The boy nodded, a sharp decisive gesture, and put his hand into the middle of the small circle formed by their bodies, all of them instinctively drawing closer. "Let's all promise."

They all placed their hands in the middle, the physical contact strengthening the connection between them and drawing her completely into it until she was one with all of them and not just Michael.

"Never tell," they all swore in quiet solemn voices, their determination strong despite their youth to protect each other from the unfriendly world around them.

For the rest of the break, they all sat on the ground, conversing sometimes silently, sometimes aloud. Friendships formed between all of them and between the two girls and two boys respectively, all glad to have someone to talk to besides each other, someone else who knew.

The day was all too quickly over, but they knew that they would always have each other from there on out, the bond between them too strong to break with time or distance, and tomorrow they would see each other again, their family reunited.