A/N: Hey guys, just a quick note here. There were some weird typos/mistakes in the last chapter, and I want to apologize for that. There are probably a few here too, because I don't know how this is going to end up looking. But anyway, sorry about that!

Chapter 2 – Ames

Where has the time gone?

"Wake up, Reese's cup. You don't want to miss your first day of third grade do you?" Those words, spoken quietly and gently rang throughout Reese Ames' ears first thing in the morning, causing her slumber to cease. She could feel sunlight softly spilling over her pale skin, heating up the coolness that comforted her slumber. As the eight-year-olds eyelids parted, to reveal two glistening blue irises, she was pleased to see her mother leaning over her, a smile along her pink lips. Reese smiled back at her mom, and then sat up in her bed, stretching and yawning before hugging her knees.

"You excited?" her mother asked, covering her daughter's small hand with her own.

"I'm nervous." Reese admitted with a grave look on her face. Her mom only smiled before gingerly caressing her daughter's cheek with her thumb, holding Reese's face with her palm and other four fingers, and then brought herself and her daughter angled correctly to place a kiss upon Reese's forehead.

"You'll do great, sweetie. I know you will. You always do." Her mother reassured, with an imploring look into her daughter's innocent and curious gaze. "Get dressed and ready for breakfast, all right?"

Reese nodded before crawling off her bed and taking her school uniform in hand. Her mother, who was still seated on the edge of Reese's bed, watched her daughter with affectionate eyes, thinking back to the day Reese was born to the day she started school for the first time, crying to be by her mom's side. Now she was eight years old and dressing herself, and heading into her classroom without looking back.

Smiling at her daughter for the last time, Marcella Ames walked out of Reese's room and closed the door behind her, but pausing before taking any further steps. Marcella had absolutely loathed being like others and therefore had a problem with saying things that she would consider generic or cliché, but hell. Her little baby was growing up.

Phoebe and Reese have been closely acquainted for as long as they can recall. One of Reese's most earliest and vivid memories were of the day Phoebe moved in the vacant house three dwelling's to the right of Reese's residence. Reese remembered barely being able to speak, uttering that broken English adults found so cute, and taking Phoebe's hand to show her the swing-set near their houses. Now that most of the kids on their street—Sherwood Avenue—were grown and in either high school or middle school, the swing-set belonged to mostly Reese and Phoebe, and the two became best of friends that very day they swung on the swings together, laughing and giggling under a setting sun.

Reese knew Marcella wasn't fond of Phoebe's father—Dr. Gallagher—but she opted not to stand in front of such a sweet and innocent friendship, and allowed the two young girls to familiarize with one another between sleepovers and visits around town… as long as Marcella didn't have to step in Phoebe's home, she was content with their relationship. As far as Mrs. Gallagher went, Marcella never spoke to her, other than waving and the casual "Hey, what's up?" every now and then. There was a mutual respect between the two, though neither attempted taking it to any higher levels, almost…afraid to. At least, on Marcella's part she seemed fearful.

Despite the rocky relationship between Marcella Ames and the Gallagher parents, they had worked a deal that Marcella drove the girls to and from school during the colder seasons, because Marcella was always on the way to their school; she was the fifth grade English teacher.

Phoebe and Reese had clung onto each other such as twins do, and were most anxious about losing each other to other people throughout the course of their third-grade year. However, when they discovered they were in the same Math, English, and Science classes, they were relaxed and relieved by the end of the day. They had both phoned their parents and confirmed with them that they would be walking home together, and as they walked side by side on Olde Brookewood Road, books in hand, uniforms on backs, they were discussing what they so far liked and disliked about their third grade year at St. Marin's Academy.

"I like Mrs. Kentfield. She seemed nice, right?"

"Yeah, I think Mrs. Kentfield seemed okay," Reese agreed, the Religion teacher's face flashing in the back of her mind. "Mr. Leandro was my favorite though."

Phoebe giggled. "Yeah, he was funny. Didn't you think the bus driver was weird, though?"

Reese looked at her friend and nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. I'm glad we didn't take the bus. It made me feel… weird." Reese used weird for lack of a better word, although it made her feel uncomfortable more than anything.

The two decided to take the bus to school, to get a good feel of it. Marcella had offered the girls to drive them home; however they declined her offer, admitting to have wanted to spend as much time as they could outdoors before it got chilly.

Phoebe and Reese were walking in the middle of the road, like they normally did. Most people walked in the road since people hardly ever drove their cars. That way, the Main Street and the neighboring ways—such as Olde Brookewood—were always busy and impossible to commit crime in without being noticed. The big downtown Hillsborough was made it all too hard to be dangerous and undesirable. It made raising children and comfortable living exceptionally easy and, although Marcella always dreamed of leaving at one point, she'd stayed for the sole purpose of her daughter.

"Hey look, there's the bus now." Phoebe pointed out, looking straight ahead. It was going a lot faster than it should have been, considering the legal speed limit and well, the numerous people walking on the road.

"Shouldn't it be stopping…?"

Just then, both Phoebe and Reese were thrown onto the side of the road by what seemed like merely an arm, and hit the ground with a heavy thud, their books flying out of their arms. Breathlessly, they watched a man in a long, red coat smirk at the speeding and raving bus, holding a dark gun forward and pulling the trigger, shooting the tires of the bus and stopping it altogether. The sound of the gunshot was extreme compared to the initial stillness of the town, and even compared to the sound of the speeding bus, it sounded completely amplified. This made both Reese and Phoebe cover their ears and squeeze their eyes shut. At the sound of human screams and another gunshot, the two opened their eyes and saw the man now with his guns down, and staring at what looked to have been a human before they closed their eyes, and now that they'd opened them again, it looked a monster of some sort.

Phoebe screamed the loudest, goddamn near raping Reese's eardrums, she found herself with her hands over her ears again, staring at Phoebe. When she blinked, she opened her eyes and saw Phoebe now standing, even though her legs were trembling, and a large hand now offered to Reese. Unplugging her ears, Reese laid her tiny hand in the gloved one and stood up wobbling, and slowly regaining her balance.

"You should start walking on the sidewalk," was all she heard before the red-coated man disappeared.

"Thanks for the ride," the blonde said, getting off the motorcycle.

"It was my pleasure," Dante replied, smirking her way. The blonde blushed in the soft moonlight, gently spilling over the two and adding color to her fair locks. Dante heard the clicking over her high heels on the maroon bricks echoing in the silence of the night, but when they stopped, Dante refrained from starting up the motorcycle. He watched her as she turned around, and tilted her head Dante's way.

"What's your name?"

"My name is Dante." He replied, before leaving.

Dante got a vibe from the girl that separated her from the others. The way she smiled so warmly at him almost relaxed him, and he could feel the pumping heart in his chest begin to slow. The way her fingertips pressed onto him on his motorcycle made him feel like she was weak and had to protect her, make her feel safe. The way she looked at him so curiously with her bluish-violet eyes made his heart race like he had to do or say the right thing. The way her soft voice sounded made him feel at peace for a moment; he didn't care if he was late or had to be somewhere. And so, with these feelings left inside him, he found himself angry for not asking the girl's name.

He was lucky though, when he found himself walking by the Hillsborough Christian Fellowship just outside Mission Avenue, where the university was, and saw a familiar fair-haired young woman exiting the doors of the church. She was yet in another sundress, more colorful and lively this time, and had some of her hair pulled up and let down. Very presentable church attire.

Instantly, the woman recognized Dante and as the two walked closer together, she warmed him with a kind grin. "Dante!"

"Hey there. You getting out of church?"

"Yeah," she answered, looking at the church and then back at Dante, a smile still on her face.

"You know, you never told me what your name was." Dante mentioned.

"I didn't?" She asked. "I swear I did."

"Babe, if you did, it'd be running through my head all day."

Talk about blatant flirting. Still, Dante appealed to the girl. Had this been any guy, she would have politely declined and rejected their harsh flirting techniques and walked away. She had little to no experience, because she was always so bound in her studies. But Dante, Dante was different to her, and he made her forget about her grades for a second. He made her feel different. He was so genuinely nice to her when he first met her in the field. She recalled the way her heart pounded against her chest when Dante held up that gun and she thought he was going to kill her, and how her heart pranced around within her when he left her at her doorstep. And how fast it was beating at the very moment. He had a way with words and just by the look in his eye, she could feel that he cared more about her than most strangers should. She admired his gunmanship and adored the quality of his voice, because every time she heard it, she had felt…protected.

The good vibes, and thoughtless judgments made the girl's heart jump with risk, and she had finally spilled out her name and revealed Dante's most recent mystery. "Marcella." She said.

Marcella.

Marcella.

He loved it, the way it sounded, the way it rolled off her tongue so fluently.

Marcella.

"Well Marcella," he said, testing the name out a bit himself. "You're not busy are you?"

"Well, I was going to go over my notes, but…it can wait."

"Come with me then," Dante said, offering her a hand. "I'm taking you out to lunch."