The world census had percentages for everything—population, ethnicity, gender, genetics, disease, you name it, but they couldn't tell you about the Gifted. How many were there? Few, extremely few, but what percentage? What was the statistic? Those who ran the census never stopped and wondered hey, maybe there's a supernatural population—should we measure it? When it comes to terms of unbelievability, think of it like this: what are the odds you're going to meet someone who looks like you, talks like you, and has the same name as you? Slim—those were the same odds of two or more Gifted, who were rare enough to not have a statistic, meeting for longer than a passing-by moment.

So it was a bit of a miracle when two of them ended up at a 24/7 diner together in the middle of the night.

__________________

Maya realized too late that the bottle she'd grabbed was honey and not maple syrup, and she watched it trickle all over her waffles with a wrinkled nose. It was too late to fix it, so may as well. He had both hands wrapped around a mug of black coffee and was staring out the window, the glass slick and blurry with rain. The cars in the parking lot—there were more of them than there should be at this time and with this weather, in her opinion—were little more than dark, bulky, shapeless figures, and the people resembled wiggling shadows rather than humans. One waiter and one waitress took orders, the lone cook called out completed dishes, and the two of them were completely silent. For all her hoping to finally find him, she'd never really figured out what to say. Shut up, please, seemed kind of rude now, considering he'd almost just died.

Maya put some waffle on her fork and waved it in front of his face. "Do you want any?" she asked. There'd been a lot of blood on the floor of the alley when they left—he really should eat something.

It took him a few seconds to look away from the window and shake his head.

Who drinks coffee at midnight? she thought. How are you going to sleep? Then she remembered that she was willingly eating breakfast food in the middle of the night with a stranger, thousands of miles from home, while a pile of ash that used to be a human was being washed away into the rain gutters. She was no one to judge.

"You came all the way from Colorado," he said finally, swirling the coffee around, "just to see me?"

Maya almost let a yes slip out when it hit her that she'd never told him anything. Even though she'd figured out that he was like her, able to do unnatural things, it still managed to catch her off guard. "You know that because you're like me."

"If by like you, you mean that I can do things most people can't, then yeah. I'm like you."

Maya thought of all those books lining her shelves in her room, the ones about witches and fairies and goddesses. When she'd first discovered her power, she'd honestly thought that an invitation from Hogwarts was on its way to her mailbox. She was a Muggle-born, just like her favorite character Hermione. She moved on to think she was a fairy, and then the daughter of a goddess (pretty please let it be Athena), and then she wondered if she was the only one in the world with this weird, special talent—a freak of nature.

And now there was another freak of nature sitting in front of her, and the world got a little brighter. Even if he might turn out to be an ax murderer in the end. Innocent until proven guilty.

She found herself grinning as she chewed on her waffle. "So we're special. That's incredible!"

He choked on the coffee.

Maya's smile wavered, fork hovering in the air. "What?"

"Nothing." He cleared his throat. "Your name's Mia?"

"Maya."

"Maya," he repeated. "I'm Jack. Why did you want to see me?"

"You can't read that?"

"I only get bits and pieces," he said, "and privacy's important. I'm not going to go digging through your head."

Which implied that he could. It sounded cool, and Maya drank her orange juice thoughtfully, wondering why she couldn't do things like that. Or maybe she could and simply didn't know it yet?

"Before I get to that," she said, "I want to know more about us. What are we called?"

"The Gifted."

"How many of us are there?"

"Few, and fewer who are powerful enough to even realize they're different. You're the first I've met in..." he paused. "A year. Maybe two."

You're the first one I've met at all, Maya thought. That made twelve years. If she didn't live where she did, would she have come across more? Would she even have been able to tell?

"There's no communication," Jack continued. "Most of us don't know others exist, and I doubt they call themselves Gifted. It's just the term I'm used to."

"That woman in the alley," Maya said. The one you killed. "Was she Gifted, too?"

Jack's gaze wandered back to the window. "No."

Maya suddenly noticed that his eyes were brown. She blinked hard. Still brown, but she could've sworn they'd been green when they first walked in. The diner lighting must've been playing tricks on her, and she pushed the strange observation to the side. "Who was she? Why was she trying to kill you?"

She didn't need to be a mind reader to know that he didn't want to answer. Jack looked out the window, down into his mug, at the waiter passing by—everywhere but at her. It was the same thing Mom and Dad did when they were trying to figure out how to answer a difficult question, or how to politely say they weren't going to answer it at all, but she didn't come all this way and save his life just to be left hanging.

Maya cleared her throat loudly. "I asked you a question."

"There's this group," he said, twisting his hands together. "A cult. Called the Enhanced."

"And?"

"And," Jack repeated, dragging out the word like he didn't want to finish, "they eat...people like us."

Maya's mouth dropped open. Under different circumstances that didn't involve discussing murder, it would've been comical. She thought the woman was a crazy serial killer or a drunk creep or maybe a cop, even, if Jack actually was the bad guy in the situation, but not a...not a cannibal. That was not what she expected.

"They're not cannibals," he said quickly. "Sorry—it just jumped out. I didn't mean to invade—"

"It's okay." Maya tried to look unfazed, but she stabbed her waffle with more force than necessary, her appetite lost and her mouth suddenly dry. "But you said they eat us?"

"Not literally—bad wording, sorry. They absorb our Gift."

"And that...kills us?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yes," he said in an equally quiet voice.

"So." Maya set down her fork. "There's a murderous cult out there that kills the Gifted."

"Your power signature is weak," Jack said, not sounding worried at all. He must've known about them long enough to stop being scared. "And if you really live in the middle of nowhere, they won't find you. Don't worry."

His reassurance didn't help, but Maya nodded anyway. How special and happy she'd felt just moments ago, finding out about the existence of others. How scared and weak she felt now, knowing that the very thing that made her special also put a target on her back.

She wanted to leave, and as soon as she thought that, she realized she'd forgotten the reason she was here in the first place. It momentarily pulled her out of her misery over this cult of the Enhanced. "I need you to stop screaming."

Jack blinked. "You can hear that?"

Maya nodded. "I need it to stop. Please."

Jack went silent for a moment that stretched into a few minutes. Maya glanced longingly at the door. She got what she wanted, didn't she? Find the man who screamed in her head and tell him to stop. Was it unfortunate or fortunate that she'd also learned about a murderous cult on the loose? Would she have been better off not knowing?

"I can't stop," he said finally. "But I know someone who might keep you from hearing it. Sever the connection somehow."

"Can't you sever it?"

"No."

"Alright. Where is this person?"

"Louisiana."

The thought of another long road trip made Maya queasy, and she shook her head. "No. I can't do that."

"It will work with or without you," he said with a shrug. "I'll go by myself."

Maya frowned. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Jack looked kind of guilty. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you could hear it."

She mumbled under her breath that it was okay and waited for him to say more. Maybe about just what the screaming even was, why it happened, why he couldn't stop it, but he was silent, sipping from his cup and watching her over the rim.

She stood up. "Well...bye, then."

"Bye."

She put up her hood and walked out the door without giving him another glance. There was a bounce in her step as water soaked into her shoes and up her socks—she was going home, and she couldn't wait.

What if he doesn't do it? What if I keep hearing it?

Maya stopped walking.

What if the cult follows me home and kills my parents before killing me?

The panic settled in. She'd been out for almost two days; what if someone from the cult had already noticed her Gift and was following her right now? What if they followed her home, slaughtered Mom and Dad, and absorbed her power and killed her?

How could she let that happen?

Maya turned around and ran toward the diner. She needed to stick around a little longer. Learn more. Make sure he did what he promised. And maybe, just maybe...

Find a way to get rid of this little cult problem.

She burst into the diner and saw that Jack was already gone. She made a high-pitched noise of panic and pivoted on her heel to run outside again, looking left and right in the parking lot. The radar in her head had shut off completely—it was as if, now that she'd found him, it had served its purpose and died merrily content, though she knew somehow that the connection was still there. It just wasn't useful.

A car was pulling out of its parking space, and Maya ran at it without thinking. It jerked to a stop just before backing right into her, and Jack twisted his head out the window. "Do you want me to take you to the bus stop?"

"I'm coming with you."

He didn't even take time to consider. The answer was a cold, flat, "No."

"I'm coming with you," she said again, more forcefully this time. "You said it will work with or without me, but I'm guessing it will work better with me, right?"

He didn't say anything.

"That's a yes." Maya straightened and crossed her arms over her chest, hoping she looked more like a defiant adult than a pouting child. "I'm coming."

He pulled back into the parking space and stepped out with a sigh. "Maya. I appreciate you wanting to see it through, but being anywhere near me is a bad idea. You're much safer from the cult if you're not with me."

"Why?"

The rain abruptly stopped. Maya blinked...was that the sun peeking through the clouds? At one am? Why was she standing on grass...weren't they just in a parking lot? And where did the diner go?

"Because I'm a very powerful Gifted," Jack said bluntly, "and the cult's always after me."

And suddenly it was raining again, and there was no unnatural light in the sky. The ground was once again pavement, not grass, and the diner was back, its pathetic neon sign flickering every few seconds. What had been there before was only an illusion, and Maya gawked "That was amazing!"

"It's not all great." Jack glanced to the side. "Do you see that?"

Maya looked at the empty road and squinted. "See what?"

Jack held out his hand. Maya took it tentatively. "See it now?" he asked.

Maya looked again and shrieked. Standing in the empty road was a woman with a curtain of stringy hair hanging in front of a pale, ghost-white face adorned by blue, fleshy lips and a missing eye. The empty socket was gushing blood that dripped down to her lopsided jaw, and she stood hunched with her arms held out at her sides awkwardly, like she was gearing herself to start running. Her dress was bright-white, and as raindrops poured down from the sky, not a single part of the fabric got wet.

Maya took her hand out of Jack's, and the woman vanished immediately. "Who...what..."

"That was Jeanine," he said, sounding unfazed. "She was murdered in a hotel in Vermont two years ago—that's where I met her, right after they cleaned up the place. Sometimes she follows me."

"You see ghosts," Maya said simply, somewhere between awestruck and horrified.

"I see lots of things. My point is, you don't want to be with me." He started back toward his car. "Sorry for scaring you."

"I'm still coming with you."

Jack turned around, looking surprised, but his answer was the same. "No."

"If you leave, I'll just follow you!" she exclaimed, trying to keep the desperation from leaking into her voice. "I followed you here, and I'll follow you to Louisiana, too."

His eyes narrowed. Please don't catch the bluff, Maya pleaded in her head, hoping he wasn't sifting through her thoughts right now. He didn't need to know that her radar had shut off and that if he left her behind, she wouldn't be able to follow him.

To her surprise, he sighed and jerked his head toward the passenger side. "Get in. I'll be right back."

_____________

Jack knew her name was Maya—he'd made the intentional mistake of Mia to not freak her out too much. He already knew a lot about her—loads of unwanted information were jumping out in his face. Her name was Maya Park, and she was from Colorado. Her parents didn't know where she was because she hadn't left a good-bye note, and the guilt was eating her up. No cell phone, but even if she had one, she wouldn't call them. On her fifth birthday, her now-deceased grandfather gave her the Mets cap she had on now. When she wasn't wearing it, it sat on the third row of her bookshelf in front of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series, books two-through-five because she'd rented the first one from the library.

The way her face drained of color when he told her about the cult had broken his heart. He didn't want to do it—it had taken so much effort to force the truth out of his mouth, because if he didn't tell her, who would? It didn't matter now, but in the future, when she might leave the middle of nowhere, Colorado, and raise the chances of getting herself discovered, she would need to know. What kind of careless jerk would he be if he let her leave without warning her?

He was still a jerk, showing her Jeanine, but he needed Maya to go away. The determination was coming off of her in waves, so he did something drastic—and even a pale, bloody ghost standing on an empty road in the middle of the night didn't scare her away. He had respect for that, even if it meant he had to take a child with him to Louisiana.

But it was all out of guilt, and guilt was a very motivating thing. He had absolutely no idea that someone had been listening in on him. It had to be painful, and she didn't deserve it, so he would go to Jemma and hope she knew how to fix this.

Jack waited until Maya was inside the car before going back into the diner. If he was going to bring her with him, then he had to make sure she was safe, and thanks to Rina, he knew about a certain someone who was headed his way. A certain someone who he needed to get rid of, preferably now.

The bathroom was empty. Jack shapeshifted back to normal and then looked in the mirror and closed his eyes. It was hard, reaching so far east and so far into the sky, and the world felt like it was falling away as the ground under his feet disappeared and resolidified. He heard the gentle ping of a seatbelt sign, the cries of an infant, and the low, dull hum of an airplane's ventilation.

When he opened his eyes, a woman with red hair and a vulture ring stared back at him from the mirror.

__________________

The seatbelt sign pinged off, and Anna stood up from her seat and stretched, rising to the tips of her feet and reaching as far up as she could. Air sickness was a bitch—she felt a little off and wouldn't be surprised if she threw up.

If Anna had been stronger, she would've noticed that the reason she felt so suddenly off was not because of air sickness but because an intruder had just entered her mind.

Anna splashed water on her face in the bathroom and stared down at the sink for a few seconds, waiting for any bile to rise up in her throat, but none came. When she looked up at the mirror, she expected to see clammy skin and red, tired eyes, but what she saw instead almost made her scream.

A stranger had replaced her reflection.

"Let me guess," he said. "You're Anna."

"And you're Jack Parker." Anna wiped off her face with her hands, her skin prickly with nerves. She was supposed to find him, not the other way around. "How did you find me?"

"I used Rina."

Rina. The scout who'd located him in Portland, who was probably a pile of ash right now if he'd gotten away. He'd used Rina's head...to get into Anna's. She whistled. "Impressive."

"Turn around," he said, obviously not in the mood for compliments. "Don't come after me."

The audacity, Anna thought, cocking her head to the side. "Why are you warning me?"

He blinked.

"If you did this with every Enhanced who came after you, I would've heard about it, but I haven't. Which means you don't usually send out warnings...yet here you are." She smiled. "And that means I'm a real threat."

To her surprise, he smiled back. "Believe that if you want."

Anna believed it, she knew it. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'll get to you."

Jack Parker tilted his head to the side, too, and said, "Good luck."

Then the mirror shattered. She jumped back, letting out a curse. There was a shout outside; someone was telling a flight attendant that they heard a noise in the bathroom, and not a second later, there was a knock on the door and a trained-to-be-gentle voice asking, "Are you okay in there?"

Although she had a mess to explain, Anna couldn't help but be pleased. She wasn't the typical huntress, and Jack didn't seem like the typical prey.

This was going to be fun.

________________

Jack stared at the cracked mirror, gripping both sides of the sink in front of him. Anna was gone—now there was only his own distorted reflection, shattered into fragments. He wondered if he'd done the opposite of what he'd wanted to—if, instead of getting rid of her, he'd just encouraged her.

_______________

The Jack who left wasn't the same one who came back, and Maya stared. He looked somewhat the same but different enough that she was sure it wasn't just her mind playing tricks on her. "How did you do that?" she asked. "Was that just an illusion, too?"

He shook his head and said, "Shapeshifting."

Maya raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like a superpower."

"Gifts are different for different people," he said, laughing. "You can't shapeshift, I can't heal. It's just how it works."

Maya nodded. It made sense. "Do you like being Gifted?"

Jack's grip on the wheel tightened; just a little bit, but it was there. "It's...complicated, but yes."

He didn't sound like he meant it, but she chose not to ask anything else. Maya settled down comfortably into the seat as they pulled into the road, and she leaned her head against the window, wondering what complicated meant.