Seven years had passed. Nothing eventful ever happened. In fact, everything around Naomi seemed to simply tone down. The tests and experiments stopped. Genevieve's visits were not common, and when she did visit, it was very brief. As she grew older, she accepted that she was no longer an experiment, but a burden. Armacham was too afraid that her new connection with Alma and Paxton was too dangerous, so the project came to a close. She was forbidden to ever see Paxton again, yet she somehow felt connected to him, the same way she did with Alma. They could not release her; there was too big of a risk that her story would somehow make it to the media and send the company into the ground, as well as the Armacham officials being locked up, just as she was. They did not want to kill her; they did not want to waste her power that had the chance of becoming useful in the future. Instead, they finally gave her normal clothes and put her on a shelf to gather dust.

She knew that Paxton remembered nothing of the synchronicity event. She could just feel it, just as if it were a presence. She could feel his presence, just as he did hers. They could not communicate, which devastated them both. All they had was the connection that Alma provided.

Alma, however, was a different story. She always seemed to be watching Naomi's every move from the usual corner of her room. Naomi didn't mind. In fact, her presence was a comfort to her. She cured her loneliness, even though she did not provide much company.

"Harlan, I am still paranoid."

Harlan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed out of frustration. He looked over at Genevieve, who did not break eye contact with the strangely curved window in front of them. They both sat alone in the dead silent observation room, where scientists and researches watched the two brothers interact in their prison-like cell. They sat in the back row, as if to keep a safe distance from the single man who sat in the back of his room, back and head flat against a wall filled with the scrawlings of an insane child that was scribble on the wall years ago. Paxton was now completely alone. He no longer had the company of his mute brother, who had disappeared long ago. Naomi was out of his life due to the synchronicity event he knew nothing of. If it weren't for the heavy breathing visible in his chest and the occasional blinking of his cold, lifeless eyes, he would look to be a corpse. This is what he did all day. He simply stared off into the distance, yet not ever at anything. He was lost in his thoughts and his loneliness.

"Genevieve," Harlan said, clearly impatient. "The synchronicity event was seven years ago. He has no signs of having contact with Naomi OR Alma. If something were to happen, it would have happened by now."

Genevieve did not take her eyes off of Paxton. "Project Perseus is a very risky project due to past circumstances. If he is able to make a psychic link to our replicas, how do we know that he cannot with Alma or Naomi?"

"If he could have, he would have by now."

"We don't know that."

Harlan huffed, getting angry. "Well what do you propose, Genevieve?"

"I propose that we break any bond or trust that Naomi and Paxton may share."

Naomi lay down on top of her bed, staring at the ceiling, doing absolutely nothing as usual. She looked down at her left arm and felt the raised scars that covered her arm like tattoos. It never healed correctly. The cuts stayed red and irritated. They were permanent, deep reminders of Paxton and Alma. She grew to love them, just as if a normal teenaged girl would grow to love a new haircut.

"Naomi." Naomi looked over to see Genevieve standing in her doorway. She didn't even hear the heavy iron door slide open. "Get your training clothes on. You are having a surprise work out session today. Bring your fighting gloves."

Naomi gave her a puzzled look as the iron door slid shut, giving her privacy as she changed. She went over to her wardrobe as she pulled out a tight, black tank top and matching work out short-shorts that were almost too short for her comfort. She sloppily pulled her hair long, so-blonde-that-it-was-almost-white hair into a sloppy ponytail as she walked over to the large iron door. Before she could knock to be let out, Genevieve opened the door. She was accompanied by four of the Armacham soldiers that aggravated Naomi so much. When she was younger, they intimidated her. Now, as she grew older, they simply annoyed her. They assumed position as she approached the group and lead them down the hallway in their usual formation, all eyeing Naomi.

"So, what's with the posse, Aristide?"

"Ms. Aristide to you. They are simply a precaution," Genevieve responded half-heartedly. Ever since the synchronicity event, Naomi was treated like a convict, guilty of horrendous murders. The fear that she could sense from her peers amused her.

"What, you afraid of a seventeen year old girl, old lady?" She also enjoyed the power she had over them because she could be as condescending and rude as she wanted and they wouldn't do a thing about it.

"You aren't just a seventeen year old girl. I don't think I need to remind you of that." Naomi smirked as they made the trek down the winding hallways to the training room.

Naomi wasn't particularly fond of the training room. It was as harshly lit as the hallways and was just as boring and baron as her room. Right in the middle of the room was your average boxing ring, surrounded by folding chairs for observers. She hated all the times she was forced to prove her worth on an unsuspecting soldier while standing in that ring. In the back of the room, a large mirror was positioned. It was undoubtedly a one way mirror.

Genevieve and her yes men led her into the room then left her alone. She looked around letting the memories flood back to her. She hasn't been in this room in years. Everything about it had an awkward, unwanted nostalgia, yet everything seemed so foreign.

She sat down on a folding chair that pointed directly at the one way mirror stationed behind the ring on the opposite wall. She sat impatiently, bouncing her leg as she always does. She was sick of waiting for any instruction that may walk through the door behind her. Her deep purple eyes darted from empty chair to empty chair. There was somebody undoubtedly watching her behind the mirror- why not remind them why they are scared of her?

Tilting her head slightly down, she focused all of her energy on every empty chair in the room. With one, swift thought of the mind, they all went flying through the air, sloppily hitting the bullet-proof widow in the back of the room. She smirked to herself at the thought of the inhabitants of the room jumping frantically at her stunt or scribbling thoughts on their clipboards. Just as this happened, the door opened. Two Armacham soldiers led a man in. He was young, pale, and obviously fit. He wore the same Armacham fitness uniform that she did, just in men's style. He had an annoyed, somewhat concerned look permanently plastered on his face. His dark hair looked as if it were buzzed, but becoming overgrown once again. She looked deeply at his familiar facial features. Could it be…?

"Paxton?" Naomi croaked, feeling tears well up in her eyes. He looked over at her, his face softened in relief and surprise. Naomi didn't even think. She just got to her feet, ran over to him, and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck in a huge, tremendous hug. He hugged her back tightly, not wanting to let go. She let the tears fall down her face and on to his shoulder.

"I thought that I would never see you again," she whined into his shoulder.

"I thought the same," he replied. Naomi backed away, letting her hands lock together behind his neck, his hands still resting in the small of her back. She was now letting little giggles emerge from beneath her tears. He let his hand trail from her back to her left shoulder. His fingers brushed down her left arm as he observed the scars with a frown on his face. His attention moved from her mangled arm to her deep purple eyes.

"Naomi, what is this?" he asked with genuine concern in his voice. She pulled away from him, hiding her left arm behind her back as she let her attention move to her sneakers.

"It's nothing," she replied. She didn't know what he did and didn't know about the synchronicity event that happened seven years ago, and she didn't want to distress him.

"They match the symbols I drew on my-"he stopped mid-sentence and ran his fingers through his soft, delicate hair. "The synchronicity event?" Naomi nodded silently. Paxton sighed as he let himself collapse into once of the few folding chairs that survived Naomi's attack.

"I wish they would tell me." Naomi gave Paxton a puzzled look as he spoke. "I don't remember a single thing. Did… I do that to you?"

"No! No I… did it to myself," she said quietly. Before either of the two could continue their conversation, the door swung open and a man she recognized as Harlan Wade walked in.

"In the ring," he demanded firmly as he himself headed for the ring. Naomi gave Paxton a puzzled look. They never have been put in the ring together. For as long as they have been in the facility, they have been pushing the two together for companionship- now they want them to fight as enemies?

The two climbed into the ring. The faced each other, each on the opposite side of the square mat. Harlan sat in a folding chair stationed in a corner of the ring.

"Paxton gets first swing," he said lazily. Naomi gave Harlan a raised eyebrow as Paxton gave him a look of pure, utter rage.

"What is the meaning of this exercise, sir?" he said through clenched teeth. Naomi could tell that he was trying to restrain himself from unleashing unbridled hell on Harlan.

"Training," he replied, nonchalantly.

"Why can't I train with an Armacham guard as usual? And why are you determining who has first swing? That isn't how this works."

"I don't make the rules, Paxton. Now do as you're told."

"NO!" he screamed. The lights flickered along with the anger in his eyes. Harlan gave him a concerned, horrified look.

"Paxton-"

"I AM NOT GOING TO HIT HER, NOR AM I GOING TO FIGHT HER!" The entire room began to shake. Naomi's eyes darted from object to object. Everything in the room was slightly levitating.

"Paxton, calm down," Harlan said as calmly as possible as he stood up in his chair. Naomi noticed Alma staring at Paxton in the middle of the ring. Harlan did not seem to see her. Paxton seemed to be aware of her presence, but was too worried about Harlan's motives.

"Paxton, if you do not do as I say, I will have to-" Harlan was interrupted by being flown across the room, hitting a wall hard. He was out. Everything stopped shaking. Alma was gone.

Paxton's icy blue eyes darted around the room and then rested on Naomi's surprised face. He hastily walked over to her and took her into his arms. She hesitated, but returned the hug.

"I don't know when, let alone IF I will see you again," he whispered into her ear. "Guards will be rushing into that door any second now. I just… need you until then." Naomi pulled away from Paxton, just far enough so that she could look into his eyes. She never noticed how beautiful and deep they were until now. Just as they were beautiful and deep, they were also heavy and tired. In his eyes, she could see the sorrow, anguish, and pain that he deals with on a daily basis. It was no different from Alma's. She felt tears well up into her eyes, knowing that he will have to go through every day alone, without comfort. She then felt fear as she realized that she would suffer the same fate too.

"Paxton…" she whispered, as she let her hand move from his back to his cheek. "What has happened to you?" Before she could say anything else, his lips crushed against hers. His lips were soft and gentle against hers, yet she could feel his undying hunger for comfort and companionship as well. She felt heavy, forceful gloved hands on her shoulder. She didn't even hear the guards come in the room; she was too wrapped up in Paxton's company. Just like that, she was ripped from her only friend and companion.

She looked back at him as she was forcefully removed from the room. His head was down as two soldiers gripped both arms tightly. She was worried that this was the last that she would ever see of her beloved friend. She sobbed as she was led down the hallways and back to her cell. As soon as the door opened, she ran to her bed and collapsed, face first into her bed, sobbing. She thought of Paxton and her feelings for him. She thought of their embrace and the amazing kiss he gave her. Then she thought of how she will never see him again. Her room began to shake. Objects began to float. Light bulbs began to burst. Not only did she feel intense, crippling sorrow, she also felt a burning hatred and anger.

And she wanted revenge.