Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.

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[=]

Ralph's shoes hit the pavement in steady, smarting steps. He hopes that taking a detour through the park at this late hour at night will discourage anyone from following him. The thing he needs least at the moment is any curious idiot trying to examine him more closely. He does not plan on letting his parents find out and he thinks he disappeared from the scene fast enough not to have anyone really take a good look at him.

About ten minutes ago, he was hit by a car.

About ten minutes ago, Ralph Castilian felt his ribs break as he stepped out to cross the street, the crossing sign flashing green, and a car rounded the corner, reckless as life, and smashed right into his side. He tasted blood in his mouth as he had the momentum of what he was going through flash in his mind; I'm getting hit by a car. The car stops immediately, thankfully, and he flies forward from the force, scraping his elbow and getting rattled as his body hits the road.

Everyone who sees, which is everyone who is walking around at the time, rushes over to him. The driver gets out of the car, worried for the sake of a lawsuit, and crowds around him. Frantically, Ralph tries to assure them he is fine as he feels his ribcage repair itself. Swallowing the blood back down, he gets up and says that he is fine, the car just brushed him, it wasn't as bad as it seemed. Since he can walk around and has his bearings, they float away, marveling at the miracle. But Ralph is unnerved; here, now, everyone can see if they look closely, that everything has healed itself. He believes in all sorts of strange things, but he knows it is not natural for a body to construct itself back together.

He glances over his shoulder and quickens his pace when he notices that someone is following him. He did not think anyone had been too interested in him (the driver rushed off at once) but when he continues home, he had seen that someone was constantly tailing him. In the park, he realizes stupidly that it was a bad idea; if something happens, no one will know. What if this person is from the government? What if they noticed he was not all he seemed? Fantastical situations whiz through his head.

"—ait, wait, I can't run too fast…"

Although Ralph is not ashamed about his talent or whatever it is he has, he has not planned on having the whole world find out. If there's something he's learned from reading comic books, it's that superheroes cannot let the entire planet know of their skills and identity. And anyway, he's watched enough movies to know people like him can get kidnapped, used, or dissected. He must keep his powers a secret!

"Really now…! I don't mean to hurt…to hurt you! Stop walking so fast…!"

The voice does not sound malicious; in fact, it's really out of breath. Ralph turns around despite himself; a fat boy around his age is struggling to catch up with him. At the very least, Ralph assures himself, if anything happens, he can knock the kid down and run away. He slows to a stop and waits for the boy to jog up to him.

"Goodness!" The boy bends over and takes several deep breaths as Ralph watches amusedly. When he straightens, he gives Ralph a dirty look. "With the way you were walking, you would think I was going to eat you or something!"

"You look like you could," Ralph says, before realizing he shouldn't have said that. The boy looks affronted but undeterred.

"You were just hit by a car," the boy says, clearly, despite his previous breathlessness. "And you're completely fine. I saw what you did there. You were hit square on."

Ralph starts to walk away fast.

"H-hey! Don't go so fast! I can't run…on account of my asthma…"

"Sucks to your ass-mar," Ralph scoffs, jumping on the defensive and seizing the opportunity to divert attention from him with the boy's panting words. After a moment, he feels a little bad and slows down again. The boy looks seriously inconvenienced and offended, but he carries on.

"You healed yourself, didn't you?"

Ralph feels a fresh wave of panic. "No, it wasn't that bad."

"I saw it. I was right there. You were hit and you healed yourself." The boy stares at him through thick glasses. "I am not an idiot. I know with that kind of impact, you probably broke a few bones. But you're fine. Leading me to believe that you have some sort of…power?"

"Of course not!" Ralph cries hysterically. "That's ridiculous. It was dark. You probably didn't see right."

"Denial usually hides the truth."

"You're crazy!"

The boy stops, and Ralph takes a step forward before turning to him. Before his eyes, the boy suddenly shrinks within himself and lengthens; as Ralph's eyes widen, the boy who has followed him suddenly stretches and morphs into a skinny, basketball-height teenager with the same thick glasses. With an almost deflating sound, he shrinks back to the fat stature of before. "Maybe I am. But I'm going to go out on a limb and say we've got something in common."

"Wow!" Ralph feels all traces of fright and apprehension flow away. "So…so you…could touch that tree if you wanted to?" He points to a tree a few paces away. The boy rolls his eyes and extends his arm enough to wrap around the trunk twice before snapping it back. "Wicked!"

"What's your name?"

Ralph beams. "I'm Ralph Castilian. I've got the power to heal myself!" The boy waits but when Ralph doesn't respond, he looks a little more offended.

"I'm Pygmalion Stout," he says. "And I can stretch my body like no one's business."

Ralph nods excitedly. "But I don't get it," he says slowly. "Why do you stay like that when you could be really tall and skinny?" He gestures at Pygmalion's stomach. "Seriously…you're not making things easier on yourself…" As if leaping on an ingenious idea, he raises a finger in the air. "You probably have nicknames like 'Piggy' or something! Oh! And it fits with your name too!"

Pygmalion, who had looked extremely displeased at Ralph's character, looks even more disgusted. "For your information," he says icily, as Ralph realizes yet again he has spoken out of turn, "I am trying not to draw attention to myself. I do not think it is smart to have everyone find out what I can do. I don't jump in front of cars."

Ralph sulks. "Fair enough," he grouches. "But I didn't jump in front of it…"

"Whatever it is that lets us do what we do, it's not common. Therefore, I think we should be allies." Pygmalion extends his hand in a handshake. "Whatever happens, we have to make sure we don't let the general public know about this."

Ralph is a personable boy. He takes Pygmalion's hand. "Okay," he concedes. "But only if I can call you Piggy. You brought it upon yourself."

[=]

Sam fidgets across from them in the booth seat. Jack orders them all drinks and when they come, he stirs the straw around the soda until he bursts out, "Whoever took Eric, they sent something to the house."

The dark haired boy, Simon, does not look surprised. "What did it say?" he asks, instead of inquiring what it is.

"The letter," Sam babbles, "was written by some obscure company. It had a letterhead and logo and stuff. It said that while it appeared that Eric had been seized against his will, he was taken by this government corporation that was studying the habits of growing adolescents or some crap like that. It gave all sorts of credentials and said it was all top secret so they couldn't have contacted the family sooner. I thought that was major sketchy but my parents seemed convinced it was okay. They're firm believers of The Island, you know. I'm sure if they needed us drafted to fight for it, they'd make us enlist."

Jack nods and Sam drives on. "I tried to explain the situation but my parents were completely sold by that bogus whoever had written. They were instructed to destroy the letter so I couldn't get my hands on it. I tried to search the company name on the Internet but I never came up with any real evidence about it. I kept getting sent around in circles. Top secret or not, I don't buy any of it."

Simon glances at Jack and nudges him. Jack clears his throat. "You wouldn't happen to have any part of that letter, or the envelope it came in?" he asks.

"Actually, I do!" Sam grabs the bag he brought with him and fishes through it to find a miniscule scrap. "Funny you should ask. The way they had to burn it afterwards, I was a little suspicious about, so when I saw this tiny part of the envelope, I picked it up before they could see." He slides the tiny sliver across the table. "I mean…I don't know what you could do with it…" He ogles Jack. "Can you…maybe create a duplicate of it or something?"

The situation is this: a couple days ago (three, to be exact), Sam had witnessed the kidnapping of his brother by a mysterious dark figure. After recovering from a physical shock from an unknown source, he tried to seek help, but discovered he had no way to contact his family. He tried to flag someone down and saw Jack and Simon by the riverside. Explaining his situation, although knowing they probably could do nothing, he was surprised when Simon studied him carefully and introduced himself. Per Simon's instructions, he went home and saw his parents reading some mail they had received. A day later, he contacted Simon and scheduled a time to meet.

They all, of course, had established that they were not ordinary people.

"No…" Jack says, staring at the envelope piece. "But I can tell you what happened before your parents got the letter." He extends a finger and presses the shred against the table.

Fast, flashing images pulse through his head. A shadowy figure from the shoulders down; an unknown individual writing the letter; close up of the address on the envelope, to the Riordan household; the same unknown individual, staring intently at the letter, at the envelope, irises turning violet –

Jack is brought back to the restaurant by Simon's soft grip on his shoulder. "They were influenced," he says slowly, as Sam gapes at him. "Whoever wrote this letter had intended the readers to be brainwashed. I assume since you were not given the letter, you did not feel its effects."

"Bastards," Sam curses lowly, the direness of the situation finally settling on his shoulders. Simon had vaguely explained some end-of-the-world scenario, but really, the biggest issue on Sam's mind is not the destruction of The Island – Eric is his twin brother, and to be separated involuntarily is not sitting well with him. Whoever had taken Eric may as well cut off his arm and run off with it as well. Deep in thought, he looks up and realizes both Simon and Jack are watching him. They are sitting quite close.

"Are you two…" Sam raises an eyebrow. He has been wondering this for a bit. "…maybe…involved together? Mucking around in the river together…"

The reaction this causes is actually pretty hilarious. The two flush like just-caught troublemakers and scoot apart. Simon glances at Jack again (see, telltale, Sam figures, as no one should be giving others meaning-laid looks like that without having something going on); Jack blinks rapidly.

"No, that…we…no!" Simon shakes his head too. Sam would love to get down to the real point of this problem, but there are bigger fish to fry.

"I'm getting my brother back," Sam says resolutely. "And since you guys seem to know what you're doing, I want you two to help me."

"That was a good way of asking us," Jack scoffs. "It just so happens that your goals coincide with ours."

"I think," Simon says, "if my vision is right…that whoever kidnapped your brother is involved with the same person who wants to destroy The Island. If preventing this from happening means we save your brother too, I think we can join forces." All this talk is reminding Sam of the good role play video games he and Eric used to play. He can't end high school without at least playing them again with him.

"In your visions," Sam starts, wanting and not wanting to know at the same time, "does anything ever happen to my brother?"

Simon looks apologetic. "I didn't see that far yet…but hopefully, I might see something in the future. He seems alright so far…"

"I've tried to mentally connect with him," Sam muses aloud, "but I've never been able to get through. We've never really been apart, so we never had to communicate long distance. I don't know if I know how to. But I'm also sensing this weird disruption. I can't really place a finger on it."

"Does your ability only cover you and your brother?" Jack asks, before clarifying. "I mean, can you read or speak to other people's minds, or is it just your brother's?"

Sam's face is scandalized. "I've never tried it before," he admits. "I didn't think I could. We've always been able to do it…I didn't think it was too big a deal until you mentioned it." He nods at Simon. "I thought it was completely normal. Twin intuition, you know."

Jack scoffs again and Sam glares at him. They arrange another time to meet and exchange important phone numbers. As they leave the diner, Sam studies the two; it is rather unusual they are together, if they are together. They are so different. As he stares at Simon, as if a door is opened, he suddenly hears the boy as if he is speaking, although his mouth isn't moving. Stupid Jack; sleeping together isn't nothing, you prat.

Sam blinks and smirks to himself. He will have to ask Jack about this later.

To be continued

[=]

Note: Let me clarify from last time; I didn't mean to continue this story at all. Seriously, I was cool with just letting it stay as a oneshot. But of course, I was pretty invested in writing more, so…and I don't hear any complaints, so I'm going to guess this is okay with you all. I feel like Ralph would be mean. I'm not actually sure why Jack goes around with Simon. Hmm. I've just gotten on break so I'll have some time to keep writing. Thanks for reading, all!