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The texts had gone from every hour, to every two hours. Eventually, they'd become erratic, coming only when there was nothing distracting her. A couple of hours here. Five hours there. She'd lost herself in spar after spar and tried desperately to get some sleep, but after that night, it was nearly impossible for more reasons than one.

She punched her bed and hated it. Hated it to it's core.

Finally, after the longest pause of all, she sent out the same text he'd been getting from her so many times in the past few days.



And he always was. With or without her, he always was.

She typed out a second one, the words I miss you written on the cold surface, and then deleted it before she could hit send.

Several things came to mind, but none of them seemed like rational ideas, when she thought about them alone. She kept them to herself, and her grip on the phone tightened.



She deleted the message before even completing it. She wasn't going to guilt trip him. This was not about him. It was not about them. And it definitely wasn't about food.

Her stomach grumbled the moment she even thought of it. How did he have that power?



That was all she was going to allow herself.

Lucky for him, she was - her room was the only place she felt safe anymore, though really there was no reason for it. It was just where she hid when the world frightened her, and this was no exception.

She had to get up off of the bed to open the door, because she'd locked it as well as propped the chair up against the knob. The scrape of the furniture was audible as she moved it, and unlocked her door. Then she opened it, and saw him standing there.

It hurt so bad to look at him. Her expression showed none of the pain within, only the exhaustion, the malnutrition, and the desire in the bite of her lip.

"Thanks." She breathed out, leaving the door open for him to come inside so she could curl back up on her bed. "Lock it behind you, please."

She didn't expect him to put the chair back, but she looked just a little relieved that he'd done so without her asking. His hands were filled with candy, and it was probably the only thing palatable enough that she'd actually eat it. Another good choice.

"The Hersheys, please." Anything with nuts was going to do her the most good, right now. She reached out and took it from him, unwrapping it immediately and taking a giant piece off. "The Kingdom of Grace extends a warm thank you to Baysimento for it's offering."

She chewed with delight on the chocolate, and then let another piece melt in her mouth before swallowing that down as well. "You know, if we were like, in that Harry Potter book, this chocolate would help me feel better." Perhaps it was, and she just hadn't realized it yet.

The moment he sank onto her bed, she felt it bow to him, and her entire body tilted in that direction. She didn't fight it; it was all she wanted, and falling was just an excuse to get it. Her head and shoulders banged into his, before she finally slid down and rested on one of his legs. Without reacting to the fall, she twisted her body so she could look up at him, and continued eating her chocolate as if nothing had happened.

"It's good for my womanly figure. That's about it." It was nourishment, at this point; anything would be. She licked her fingers; the first bar was already gone, destroyed in desperation. When he offered her another, she plucked it from his fingers as if it was her divine right to have it.

"You sound surprised." She murmured up at him, while tearing open the new chocolate bar. "Why? We're supposed to be the strong ones, but there's something stronger, and deadlier, just living in our midst right now. I feel like we're a bunch of pigs in a pen with a wolf in the middle. One by one they go missing, but we don't do a damn thing, because as long as it's not our bacon on the line.."

She put down the chocolate, resting it against her chest. "I wish they would give us orders."

Maebe's eyes widened in surprise. "The russian's okay?" That actually did make her feel a touch better. The smaller the clone's potential kill count was, the better. She still didn't think Taym was dumb enough to fall for it, which meant he was either out in the world trying to find America, or already dead.

She forced herself to believe the former, and pushed it out of her mind.

"Of course I trust you." She muttered, a little annoyed by the sudden doubt of it. "I wouldn't be so close to you if I didn't. I don't trust people easily, Dawson. The list of people I trust can be counted on one hand."

She held up her hand to his face, and childishly smiled. "It's a very small list."

She picked up her chocolate once he assured her, and took another big, desperate bite. She listened with trusting eyes as he began to explain - no, excuse the clone despite what she was. The trust bled from her expression, and her eyes deadened as she stared at him.

She listened. God help her, she listened, because she needed to understand exactly what that thing was telling him that had him so convinced. She'd been sent and she was questioning her ~evil plan~, because she had a mind of her own. She wasn't a monster. She was different.

Dawson started to make Maebe's stomach churn. She knew she was going to throw up if she listened to another word, so she lifted her hand, and placed it against his mouth to hush him gently. Then she got up off of his legs, stood carefully, and brushed the crumbs off of her chest. When she was clean, she finally looked straight at him, lifeless and monotone.

"Please get out of my room."

The life came back into her eyes, but only as flames of anger. She grabbed his hand by the wrist before he could actually touch her, and pressed her fingers against the soft inner workings of the wrist. "It's not you I need to believe, Dawson. I would believe anything of you. And right now, I believe that that thing has fully convinced you of it's good intentions. I get it, now. I ******** get it. I should have realized it the first time, but I didn't. She's using you and she's really good at it."

She let go of his hand, and folded her arms. "I will always be afraid of them. I've seen what they can, and will, do. And you know what? I'm not even saying that I don't believe half the s**t she's feeding you. So she was sent here on a mission? Likely. She's second guessing it? Possible. Questioning? Maybe. But guess what, Dawson. That doesn't change the outcome. Even if she isn't sure she wants to kill all of us now, something will snap. Maybe you'll piss her off. Maybe Lawr will stop ******** her. Maybe she's already snapped. I DON'T ******** CARE WHAT IT IS."

It was Maebe who'd snapped, vividly obvious in the raise of her voice. "Whatever it is, WHEN it happens, she WILL turn on all of us. And YOU will be the reason why people fell for it. People, but not me."

She sat down in the chair she never sat in, crossed her legs, and glared. "Having America's memories just means that America, THE REAL AMERICA, is still alive somewhere, alone, and probably suffering. And do you know why? Because this one needs to exist. So keep defending her, Dawson. Keep saying she deserves a chance. Keep convincing yourself that this is okay, this is fine, everything and everyone is fine."

Her anger faded for a brief, flickering moment. "If we ever get America back, and she finds out how easily you've replaced her.." She wasn't thinking about America. She was thinking about how easily a clone could have replaced herself. She could see it all, as plain as day, just as it was happening with America. She knew no one would care. If people weren't mad at this clone for keeping the real America away... they sure as hell wouldn't do it for Maebe.

Everyone would probably feel like they were better off.