Disclaimer: Refer to first chapter.

Not canon but canon-compliant.

This chapter was suggested by The real world is scary, so to them I send thanks for their review. This chapter is also dedicated to said author.

Rachel had never been for WICKED. They had kept her alone from children of her own age for as long as she could remember, which, admittedly, was only five or so years, but was still horrific nonetheless. In all that time, Rachel could not remember a single meeting with another child of her own age. Or a child in general for that matter. Older or younger. So when she was rather rudely awakened by the sound of her door creaking open, Rachel was not a happy camper. The sound was soft and creepy, just a soft whisper in the quiet of Rachel's room. Upon hearing the sounds, Rachel, previously asleep, awoke with a unseen jerk beneath her warm pile of blankets. Her eyes snapped open as breaths whispered into the air of her private room.

"Who's there?" Rachel mumbled sleepily, deciding to role over. "This is my room. I will defend it!" The effect was ruined by her wide yawn, half-closed eyes and messy hair. Through her half-lidded eyes, Rachel could see a girl a year or so younger than herself. The girl had tar-black hair that hung in waves to the girl's waist. Her eyes were a brilliant and startling blue that seemed to bore into Rachel's tired form. The girl's skin was as pale as the soft, fluffy snow that Rachel had seen only in photos before. Standing in the dim light of Rachel's room with the orange lights streaming in from behind her, the girl looked sinister. Yet lit upon her face was a smile so wide that the girl looked like one of those smiling dolls that Rachel had seen in photos. Rachel had seen very few real things, just the old photos from years long gone and times before the Flare.

"My name is Teresa Agnes," the girl replied calmly, watching Rachel. "I apologize deeply for intruding your room. I will leave now." The girl, Teresa bowed her head and began to back out of the room. That intrigued Rachel as she sat up, stretching sleepily.

Through a wide yawn, Rachel spoke. "No, stay. I want to speak to you, at least for a bit. My name is Rachel No-name. How old are you, Ms. Agnes?" WICKED had long since driven manners into the ever-polite Rachel. Along with manners were grammar, eloquence, tactic, fighting skills and several other 'survival' skills. Yes- the first thing that Rachel had learned from WICKED was manners. Followed by grammar and eloquence. Then and only then came the survival and fighting skills. She mentally tsk-ed. Oh, WICKED. Never having their priorities straight. That was a major flaw of the organization that had raised Rachel since she was a little girl. The considered manners more important than survival. You could survive without manners but you could not survive without survival skills. It was simple logic, though Rachel was not at all surprised that WICKED did not understand the nature of simplicity. Nothing about WICKED was simple.

The girl looked up curiously, her blue eyes bright and cheerful. "I'm seven!" She said softly. "I believe that... th-that W-W-WICK-CKED is b-b-b-ba-ad!"

"Holy Fate!" Rachel whispered softly. "You just said that! I'm not hearing things, right? You just spoke out against WICKED? Oh my Fate. I can't believe this." She eyed the younger girl before her. "You, Teresa Agnes, are a very brave young girl. I envy that in you." And Rachel meant it, too. She was eight already and had lived in the WICKED Headquarters since she was three and still hadn't spoken out again the powerful organization that had raised her, no matter how much she disagreed with them. Upon her arrival at the Headquarters, a child slightly older than she, a fair-skinned boy with light brown hair and freckles dashed across his nose, who had welcomed the scientists back with a wide grin and bright eyes. He had offered to give Rachel a tour of the Headquarters only to be told that he was 'too immature' to give anyone a tour and that he should 'remain silent' and that he should return to his room before anyone got hurt. All in all, Rachel had learned never to cross anyone from WICKED. It would be a very bad idea.

"But how old are you?" Teresa asked, clearly not having learned the same lesson as Rachel.

"I'm eight, but don't you understand? What they would do if they found out you said that?" Rachel looked at the slightly younger girl with mature, sad eyes. "Teresa, listen to me now. You have to listen. Are you listening?" Teresa gave a solemn nod of understanding. "WICKED is good. Always remember that. If you are asked what WICKED is, you always say good. WICKED is good. What is WICKED, Teresa?"

Dutifully, the younger girl replied. "WICKED is good." But her voice was empty and sad, dead of life.

Despite her sudden and lifeless demeanor, Rachel smiled at the seven-year-old. "I think you'll be just fine here, Teresa. You'll be just fine. Now can I sleep? It can't be two AM yet, can it?"

Teresa shook her head vigorously after tapping her watch. "It's two oh one, actually."

"What's the difference?" Rachel asked, growing ever sleepier by the minute. "It's still late."

Teresa was grinning wildly, very happily, seeming to have forgotten what Rachel had told her as she started to babble away. "I can't believe I'm finally meeting someone else! Can you believe it? I've been here for two years and I've still only met the scientists! Do you have any friends? Are they nice? What do they look like? Can I meet them? Please, pretty, pretty please can I meet them? I swear I'll be good, please, please, please? Oh, what are their names! I like the name Lizzy. I wish my name were Lizzy. Do you wish your name were something else? What is that name? What's your favourite name? What's your favourite colour? Do you like unicorns?" Teresa blinked over at Rachel with wide eyes. "Do you believe in Santa?"

Happy New Years! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and are going to review me more ideas! I'll choose the first review to come in and may use other ideas for future chapters!