Disclaimer: I do not own Lab Rats.

Flashback to many, many years ago

Hope squeezed her eyes tightly, reacting to the sudden bright light shone on her. She felt so groggy, so confused. The last thing she remembered was closing her eyes, hearing her husband's whimpers, the monitor going off...

"Mrs. Davenport," A cold voice stated, breaking her jumbled thoughts to get her attention.

"Wha-What's going on?" She asked weakly.

"How are you feeling Mrs. Davenport?" The voice asked.

"Who are you? Am I dead? Are you some kind of angel, or demon?" Hope asked, as her eyes began to adjust to the light. She could now make out the silhouette of a man, in some sort of dark clothing.

The voice chuckled. "Your not dead, and as for me, I would like to be a friend,"

"What kind of friend?" Hope asked carefully.

"The kind of friend who just saved your life," He replied curtly.

"My, My life?" Hope murmured, attempting to sit up. A burst of pain erupted in her abdomen, causing her lie back down.

"Take it easy, you may be alive but you are still in a fragile condition," The voice warned.

"Fragile Condition?" Hope repeated, attempting to take it all in.

"Yes. So you need to relax," He said.

"Then at least tell me your name," Hope snapped. "Tell me who you are, and why I am here!"

He smiled. "My name is Graham, and I need your help,"

Current Day Mission Creek, California.

Hope rushed down the sidewalk, clutching her jacket to her chest to protect herself from the wind. She finally reached her safe haven, the nearby connivence store, and stepped into the warmth.

Only a few minutes from her workplace, this little grocery had become her regular hot spot. Hope knew exactly where each of her regular purchases were shelf. White grape juice, peanut butter M&Ms, and S'mores pop tarts.

Muscle memory worked his magic, Hope didn't even think to look around when she reached for the nearest box. As a result, her arm collided with one of another customer's.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Hope sighed. "I wasn't paying att-"

When she looked up to face the acquaintance, Hope was shocked to see a teenage boy with spiky brown hair and familiar hazel eyes.

The boy looked back at her, confusion scribbled on his face. "Do I know you?"

Hope shook her head profusely. "No, No-"

"You just look so familiar, I'm sorry. My name's Chase," he said, extending a hand.

Hope shook his hand hesitantly, "It's nice to meet you Chase. Sorry about that. The box is your's,"

"No, no, you can have it. You obviously wanted some pretty bad," Chase teased.

Hope laughed. "Well, they are my favorite,"

"Same here," Chase said. "Although my sister always tries to steal them,"

Hope smiled. "Oh, I'm sure Bree isn't eating them as a personal vendetta against you,"

Chase's smile slide off his face and he looked at her, suspicion growing. "I never said my sister's name was Bree,"

"It was implied?" Hope squeaked. When she saw her son opened her mouth to reply, Hope panicked and dashed out the door.

She kept running and running, until eventually her condition wore her down enough that she was forced to stop. Hope leaned against the brick wall of the alley, gasping to take in as much oxygen as possible.

"Hope!" She heard someone yell. Hope's heart cracked when she realized it was her son; it broke even more when she remembered that she needed to stay away from him.

"Hope! That is you right, my mother? Where are you?!" Chase shouted, searching around the area.

"What are you doing out this late in this part of town," A chilling voice replied.

Chase did his best to stand tall, not wanting to show fear as three tall, muscular men approached him.

"You gonna answer him pretty boy?" A second thug asked.

"I was just looking for something," Chase murmured.

"Speak up boy!" A third one growled.

"I was just looking for something," Chase repeated, louder this time.

"Well I think we have a little something for you," A thug grinned. Chase bit his lip, trying not to scream the moment he saw the glint of a knife in the man's hand.

Chase stepped back as the three men formed a semi-circle around him.

"Get away from my son!" Hope yelled, stepping out from the shadows, revolver in hand.

The men turned to face her, laughing.

"Put that gun down little lady, before you hurt yourself," The second man chuckled.

Hope narrowed her eyes. "I am a federal agent, and you have three seconds to run before I start shooting,"

The third man howled with laughter. "Yeah, I'm so scared- AH!" he screamed, pain radiating from the fresh bullet wound in his right arm.

"Now leave!" Hope hissed; subsequently she watched as the men scurried away like rats.

Once she was sure they were out of eyesight, Hope rushed over to Chase and out her gun down. "Chase, are you okay,"

Chase looked up at her with large, hazel eyes. "I never told you Bree's name," he murmured.

Hope gave him a small smile. "I never gave you my name but you sure seem to know it,"

"So, so you are Hope. So you are..." Chase trailed off, not able to take his eyes off of her.

Hope put a hand on his shoulder. "I am your mother Chase," she whispered, continuing to wrap her arms around him. "I'm surprised you recognized me,"

"You look a lot like Bree. And Douglas showed us pictures," Chase told her, letting himself be absorbed into the hug.

"I'm so happy to see you Chase, and I am glad you are okay, but you really need to get home," Hope sighed, not wanting to let him go.

"But why? I just found you, and I have so many questions-"

Hope cut her son off. "Chase, I know you do. And so will the rest of the family. But I have to take care of something first, for your guy's safety. So please, promise me Chase, that you will go home and not come after me. When it is safe, I'll be home. I promise,"

"But-"

"No buts, Chase. Except for yours, heading home," Hope concluded. She took his hand and stuffed a 10 dollar bill onto his palm. "Take the bus home, the next stop is right around the corner,"

Chase opened his mouth, knowing that he had to say something- and fast, before she forced him to leave. There are a billion things he could have said, many things he wanted to say, but only one was appropriate in this setting.

"Thanks," he said curtly.

"Your welcome," Hope replied, the two of them expressing an entire unspoken conversation in three words.

Chase took a few steps towards the stop, but then decided to turn back to get one last look at her. But when he did, she was already gone. Since it was dark, chilly, and pretty creepy this late at night, Chase hurried to the bus stop. Tonight he may be going home alone, but it would soon be different. He hoped.

Ha, ha. Puns. I am so excited for the next chapter, and I am the one writing it! Until then, please review and tell me what you think! Thanks ~AzulaTano