"I'm driving." I sharply informed Mark when we got to his black 2006 Chevy Impala.

He opened his mouth to protest, but I was quick.

"Or…I could just go back and wait for John…that's what I was planning to do anyway-"

I turned and walked off; he rushed up, stopping me. "Alright, alright." He ushered me back to the car, handing me the keys. I smiled, triumphantly.

We drove smoothly and silently on this autumn day, almost 10:00 am, it was nearing Thanksgiving. Children kicked piles of leaves on their sidewalks, orange and brown decorations were stuck up on store windows, turkeys and pilgrims. No Native Americans, which I thought was inexcusable. The air held a chill; the atmosphere of the car was far colder. Mark stared out his window; I kept my determined eyes on the road. I'm in control. I told myself. My emotions will not control me. I was sure of it.

I turned onto a street; the diner was on the left side. I double parked; something I hated doing, but was forced to as there were no available spaces nearby. I was also now too hungry to sit around and wait for someone to leave theirs. "What are you doing?" Mark, clearly irritated questioned me, "You can't double park, I hate to state the obvious, but that's illegal."

I blinked. "So?"

"I'm a cop…" He looked as if he was embarrassed. He should've been.

I pointed, laughing at him, "says the Jigsaw apprentice!" I broke out in fits.

He groaned, getting out on his side, slamming the door in frustration. I followed his lead, for now. We walked into the diner; I, struck by the upbeat feel of it. The waitresses, all young and beautiful, serving people who looked the equivalent. Whitney Houston's 'I Wanna Dance With Somebody' was fading from above, followed by something I didn't recognize immediately, but was obviously by The Beatles. It wasn't until Mark and I were seated and looking at menus, that I realized, "Hey Jude."

"What?" Mark gave me a look.

I shook my head, "No, nothing."

He ordered a cheese omelet, coffee, water.

I had French toast, milk, water, with lemon.

During the meal, I asked him why we were here. He gave me a blank stare, chewing mutely.

Ten minutes dragged on, and then he was paying the check. I was gazing blankly out the window. Something snapped my trance.

"Sir?"

I saw a regular looking guy, another waiter perhaps. He was talking to Mark.

"That your car out there? Black Impala, right?"

"Yes…"

"Well, it's getting towed."

-

This is all your fault.

Lets go.

Mark and I walked three blocks to the bus stop. The police had towed his car, ironically.

"Just wait until they realize who owns the car." I scoffed. Mark walked fast; I had to give some effort to keep up.

He stopped, "You do grasp the fact that you're the one who parked illegally?"

I rolled my eyes. We rode the bus for twelve minutes and got off approximately six blocks away from the warehouse. It was drizzling; the real rain would be coming in any moment. I made no effort to shield myself from the water flecks; I simply walked in a straight line, making myself as nonchalant as ever.

He opened the large front door for me and then we walked through the maze of tunnels to get to the workroom. We found it empty, and dark; but I could tell that people had been here since we left. Mark's hair was damp, he didn't seem to notice. He put his jacket behind a chair and sat in it.

I shook my head, greatly disappointed over John. And it wasn't what he did; it was exactly what he didn't do. He came back, but he didn't wait for me. I so I did; I fell down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening to Mark rustle his papers. Eventually I settled into a mid-day nap. There really wasn't much to do around here, as John kept me in the dark about many things. To protect me I suppose. Unbeknownst to me, as I sighed tired breaths in my sleep, John returned, with another guest.

-

Mark shook me about fourty minutes later,

"Get up." He ordered.

I pulled out of his grasp and rolled onto my side, my back to him. "Leave me alone."

"John's here."

Still half asleep, I hopped up; rushing past him and out from behind my divider, hearing John's voice but not connecting it with the sight before me.

Suddenly, I took it in. I stopped short, skidding to a halt. My breath caught sharply in my tightened throat; my skin seemed to be too hot for my body. I could've been having an allergic reaction. At least that's what it felt like.

John stood next to a pallid, fragile looking woman with short, brown hair and defeated eyes. Eyes that were similar to my own, once upon a time. They resembled the expression I once possessed when I stared into the mirror at the newborn staring back. The reality of her kept spinning around my head.

She's been reborn-

She's been reborn! Like me…

Forcing myself not to stare at her too long, I glanced at my shaking hands, willing them to stop, I began to wring them.

John cleared his throat. I caught the message.

I choked out- "Hello." Our eyes met for barely a second. I wanted to go back to sleep, where I wouldn't have to face my demons.

John sat; the woman looked around anxiously. She looked like the walls were closing in on her.

"Amanda. Meet Rivielle. Rivielle, meet Amanda."

Awkwardly, I shook her hand. Not knowing what else to do, I, standing directly in front of her, studied her. That must have made her feel very uncomfortable, but I didn't care. All I wanted to do was find some logic behind this. With John, everything was just another test. He would keep experimenting with me until there was no longer an imperfect soul behind my eyes, until I was ready to be set free.

Apparently, Amanda was just one more guinea pig. I should've known that one subject alone would have never satisfied his thirst for knowledge.

-

"Aren't I good enough, John?" I inquired sharply.

Amanda was asleep on a futon that Mark prepared for her. Mark, now politely waited outside the workroom, giving John and I some privacy.

"You know as well as I, that you've always been good enough." John spoke smoothly, no tense edge in his voice, like mine.

"You've surely been doing a good job of proving that to me. I mean, that little outing with Mark wasn't enough to make me forget that you had just disappeared for four hours and then you just pop up with… her! Just….JUST prove it to me!" My voice broke. I trembled, fiercely fighting my emotions.

"Be honest with yourself. What is this really about? Prove something to yourself." John stared wearily at me.

Determination fueled me. In an instant, time stopped and I was a thermometer, being heated to the breaking point.

I walked around the table, sitting so that I was at level with him.

"John." I looked away. I decided I was right in being honest. After all, he'd asked me to be.

I buried my face in my hands, partly in embarrassment, partly in fear.

"I'm in love with you."

Fear, that is, of rejection.

-

"What the fuck happened in there?" Mark had reluctantly followed me after I stormed out of the warehouse.

I tried to break into a jog, but that didn't serve me as I had no idea where I was about to go. I heard his approach, and I quickly spun around to face him. We were now four blocks away.

"You wouldn't understand! Nobody does! Not even John! It's like he doesn't care about how I feel about him!" I shoved him in teary frustration. He was strong, and therefore, didn't budge. He simply snatched my wrists and held onto them firmly, staring me in the eyes as if he were looking for something beyond them. Angry that I had no noticeable effect, I pulled myself away, turned and started speed walking to the next block.

"How do you know that?! Do you think you're the only one who's ever loved someone so much that it hurts all the time? I'm sick and tired of your bullshit!" Mark continued following me.

"I opened myself up, and all he can say is, 'This is neither the time nor the place'-" I mocked his serious tone. "It's not as if we have all the time in the world!"

I stopped walking, and turned to Mark again. "You have no idea how that feels, I don't think you know the meaning of rejection, Mr. Big Important Detective!" The wind was fierce; I regretted not bringing a jacket.

He scoffed, "Yes. I do."

"Sure, whatever you say, Mark." I started walking again. Slower now.

"Look. Don't act as if you haven't rejected me." His words were careful, he sounded like he had been thinking it over, what he would say.

"What?" I came closer, to face him. We stood on the sidewalk, in the bitter cold, the sun was disappearing gradually. I could only read the intensity of his expression. I thought back apologetically to my extreme contempt for him.

"I worry about you everyday. Ever since John first told me we were going to help you. I had only ever seen you in pictures, though...but then I met you in person and was able to speak to you. The living breathing version. The one who was reborn, no longer a slave to society. I had the greatest expectations for you, the way you handled every situation that was thrown at you. You reminded me of my sister, except you weren't my sister…"

Before I could retort, he leaned downwards swiftly and grabbed my forearms, holding them tightly, not painfully, but restraining me effectively, and long enough for him to crash his lips down upon mine.

-