A So-Called Emergency ((Closed))

[Mackenzie Holden]

Bloody hell. Mack was so looking forward to the stay at Hogwarts during the break. But, no, that was unacceptable. Pamela had sent an owl to Mack, telling her she was to catch the next train home and she would be picked up as soon as the train was at the station. Mack found that hard to believe. She figured her mother would be drunk by noon and would forget about picking Mack up, and Mack would have to hail a taxi and make her way to her apartment on her own in the wild streets of London, England. For once. Mack was wrong. As she pulled her luggage off the train - she didn't bother to look around. But something caught her attention. A frantic arm waving. Mack's jaw dropped without being signaled to, and she stood in one place. How...? She blinked, pulled her jaw up, and sighed. She was wrong. How was that so? Pamela Holden stood, a purse on her shoulder, and her right arm waving frantically as if to catch her attention - which was already caught.

Pamela floated through the sea of people to get to her daughter, and when she did, she grabbed both of Mack's hands, squeezed them tightly and kissed her on both cheeks; "Darling! I'm so glad you're here! I've missed you terribly!" Mack's eyebrow rose as if it had a will of it's own and she looked at her mother suspiciously, "How much have you had to drink today?" She hissed through clenched teeth. Pam shrugged off that question with a roll of her eyes and a dismissive wave with her left hand. She linked her arm with Mack's and strolled through King's Cross Station, Mack pulling her luggage roughly behind her. Obviously her mother cared not about her arm being disassembled from her body. Pam kept on rambling about how simply gorgeous the house looked. House? Mack chewed on the inside of her cheek and finally got her luggage caught up with her; "House?" She asked. Pam stopped and beamed. Mack had never seen her this happy...since...ever. She held out her left hand.

"YOU'RE WHAT?!" Mack shrieked 5 minutes later in the car. Anger boiling out of every crack in Mack's body. Her blue eyes which were normally quite lovely, were now raging fire and hatred - sending beams of death toward her mother. "Don't sound so angry, Mackenzie. I'm engaged. And you're going to be my maid of honour. In a lovely dress really. Oh, Mack you'll adore him. I'm sure you will. He's simply the best man ever." Mack scoffed. Her mother was a ninny. She hated her. She hated her for everything she ever put Mack through. And she hated her for not telling Mack about this "engagement." She cast a sideways look at Pam; "I will not take part in any such thing. Your wedding or not." Pamela looked hurt, but only for a second. That goofy smile was plastered on her face again, "Of course you will! You're my daughter." She stressed the d word. Mack hated when she used that against her. It wasn't her fault she was related to Pam. I was forced from Hogwarts for this? Mack thought, bitterly. She wished she had never agreed to come.

It was now that Mack decided to take in her surroundings. They were in a part of London Mack had never been in before. It wasn't the cramped city space, it was wider. Broader. Houses were larger here. And it was then that Mack realized her mother wasn't driving, but they were in a limousine. Oh. So he was rich. That explained everything. Hills rolled by, they were covered in snow. A large building that looked lank stood off in the distance - Mack wondered what it was used for. It looked abandoned. Maybe, if they made her leave the house because she wouldn't participate in her mother's second wedding - she could live there. She was sure the rats wouldn't mind the company. Dixie. Somehow, rats, reminded her of Dixie. Mack wondered if her mother had told her beloved about her insane daughter in a loony bin who had nearly starved herself to death. If she had, this man must really be idiotic or under some form of spell to still want to be with Pamela.

The road went from smooth to strangely bumpy, and Mack found herself jostled in her seat as they made their way down a dirt road toward a very large house. It was more of a palace, really. As far as Mack could see at this moment there were 5 floors, and two towers. A castle. Mack's breath caught in her lungs, even though she didn't want to be impressed. There was a courtyard, which was locked behind iron gates. When they swung open the beauty was revealed. A fountain stood in the middle, trickling white water from the mouths of babes and although it was winter the trees were as green as ever, and there were lights on each one - plus a star on the top. There was untouched snow on the lawn - which was what Mack loved to see. She hated how little kids trampled on it every chance they got. That's not how it was here. It was simply beautiful.

The limo came to a stop and Pam waited patiently for the chauffeur to open the door. God. What a snob. Mack didn't wait. She wanted to make her mother feel as if she didn't care about her stupid wedding. So she swung open the door just as the chauffeur was coming to open it and slammed it shut with such an attitude that she made him jump. She didn't bother to send him a sorry smile. He wasn't worth it. Probably a muggle. Then it dawned on her. Was her mother remarrying into the wizarding world? Before she could even ask, a tall man came out from the front door. He had his blond hair combed to the side that made him look around the age of 40 and he wore glasses that covered sparkling green eyes. He was well toned and he wore a casual suit. Mack raised an eyebrow. The two adults embraced and then kissed. Well..kissed as in forever. Mack had to choke back a gag. Get a room! She thought fiercely at the two. She crossed her arms and casted her eyes away. But they stopped on another figure in the doorway. Oh so, the devil had a son. Well she couldn't wait to meet the spawn of Satan.

"Ah, Hank, this is my other lovely daughter, Mackenzie. Mackenzie this is Hank, my fiance." Pam introduced the two. Other daughter rang in her ears. So Hank knew about Dixie. Or knew there was a Dixie. Hank extended his hand to shake Mack's but she kept her arms crossed. He smiled, slightly embarassed, and let his arm fall to his side.; "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Mackenzie. I dare say, you look nothing like your mother or your sister. Where do you get those piercing blue eyes?" Mack sent Pam a glare before answering him, "By a woman named Kristie Hanner." Pam's eyes grew wide and she had to hold on to Hank for support. He grasped her hand and looked at her, worried; "Are you alright, darling?" Gag me! Pam nodded and smiled; "Do you mind if we take this inside? It's a bit chilly out, and I'm sure Trevor is dying to meet Mack." Ah. So the spawn of Satan had a name. Mack followed the two adults inside sulkily, her head lowered and watching her feet crunch against the snow. Bloody hell.

[trevor]

His father had sprung this upon him, as if it were no big deal that he was remarrying for the third time in three years. No. Of course it wasn't. It wasn't a big deal, the fact that Trevor would have a stepmother (again) and two stepsisters, was something that didn't concern him or let alone have to deal with him in any way. Or at least, that's how he felt. His father was foolish. Diving into an engagment when he had only known the folly woman for no longer than three months. But when Trevor had risen to argue this, his father had simply said it was love and you couldn't control it. Bollocks. It wasn't that Trevor didn't know what love was, he did, and he had lost someone because of it - and he was slowly dying from it, but he couldn't make himself believe his father could fall in love with anyone but himself. Hank Bradshaw always came first in his father's life, and always would. Trevor couldn't help but wonder how the hell this Pamela person had seduced him.

They better as hell be pure blooded. Trevor thought, of course Hank wouldn't pick anyone who wasn't pure blooded to be his new wife. But Trevor also hoped they weren't tainted. Hank often socialized with the wrong people. Fell for the wrong women, especially if they weren't pure. He wasn't known as the best man to judge who is who in the world. People often said that Hank was a disgrace to the pure blooded wizarding society, but that Trevor made up for most of Hank's wrong doings. One of the major flaws was not supporting the Dark Lord. Trevor had every intention to once he became of age. Being only the age of 15, he wasn't near old enough to serve the one person he thought worth serving. Hank had never served anyone who wasn't himself. The selfish git. Speaking of, Hank entered the room where Trevor was sulking - trying to do his tie up nicely. He stopped pacing the room and muttering to himself when he caught sight of Trevor; "Now, now son. It isn't terribly bad. I'm sure you'll get along fine with Mackenzie."

Trevor snorted at this, "Just like I got along "fine" with that woman's other daughter, Ditzy is it?" Now he had done it. Hank sent Trevor a glare that could kill if it were able to and crossed his arms, giving up on his tie for the moment. "Her name is Pam. And I expect you to treat her like a human being. Her daughter's name is Dixie." Trevor shrugged. "She seemed ditzy enough. Why else would she be in a God damned looney bin?" Clearly agrivated with his son, Hank threw his hands up in the air and walked out of the library, doing and redoing his tie again. Trevor shuddered after he sent his father a harsh glare. They had met Ditzy Dixie only a week before, and she wasn't in the right mind in any way. Pam had gotten emotional, bloody woman needs to keep her emotions undercheck - and Dixie had been muttering something about locking the door. She was nutters. And Trevor was in no way willing to meet this other daughter, Mackenzie. She sounded stuck up. Apparently she had let an album out the summer before - and she went to Hogwarts. Respectable, but he perferred Durmstrang. Which was where he attended. Where he couldn't wait to get back to.

"Trevor! They're here!" Hank poked his head, a grin on his face, and bounded off again. Bloody hell. Trevor stood from the leather armchair slowly and made his way to the window, looking down as the limo pulled up. The damn windows were tinted. He moved his blond hair out of his green eyes and walked out of the library, following his father to the door which was already opened and revealing a winter wonderland. Pam was let out first, her brown hair gleaming in the sunlight - and then a girl threw open her door in anger and slammed it shut. Causing Marcos to jump. Trevor couldn't help but let a smirk cross his face. She was a fiery red head, though he was certain that wasn't her actual hair colour, and she had fair skin. She wore jeans and a jean jacket with a pair of chuck taylors. Muggle style clothing - but it fit this girl rather well. Hank was wasting no time in snogging his fiancee, and then he turned to Mack who didn't shake his hand. Another satisfied smirk crossed Trevor's face. Pam then looked as if she were to faint, unfortunately she didn't. They then led the girl into the house. And in a moment they were all gathered in the foyer. Hank and Pam beaming, Mack and Trevor glaring at eachother. This was going to be fun.

[Mackenzie Holden]

It was strange. Being in a house that she was supposed to feel comfortable in, but feeling as if she were a foreigner. Well, in a way, she was. The house was huge. A castle. Never had Mack lived in a larger house. Not even when she lived with her father, had she lived in this large of a house. She spent the remainder of her afternoon wandering through the castle, looking through rooms - trying to choose the one that was furthest away from the soon to be newlyweds room, but apparently it was already taken. She turned the knob and pushed on the wooden door to reveal Trevor leaning against his headboard of his bed reading a book. He looked up; "Ever hear of knocking?" Mack smirked.

"Yes, but I wonder, with those big ears could you hear something so little as a knock?" Mack closed the door, leaning against it, both hands behind her back. Trevor looked up with a raised eyebrow; "Big ears? Well, aren't we the greatest person ever at insulting people?" Mack smirked and walked over to a desk that was near her. On it was a paperweight in the shape of a ball. She smiled as she threw it up in the air and caught it again. Trevor stood up from his place on his bed and caught the ball as Mack threw it up in the air again, "I would like it if you didn't touch my things, thanks." Mack smiled innocently, and perched herself on the edge of the desk. It appeared that if Trevor hadn't just met Mack, he would grab her and pull her off the desk. But he had just met her, but he was still awfully close to her. Mack breathed in and let the scents of cinnamon and spice fill her head, "Yes, well, I would like it if your father kept his paws of my mother."

"Do you think I like my father marrying a Holden has been?" Trevor asked with an arch of his eyebrow. Mack's jaw dropped and she stood off the desk, glaring at him - their faces inches apart. They were around the same height, so Mack didn't have to tilt her head to look up at him in the eyes, defying him. "I would like you to remember, I am still a Holden." Mack told him sharply. Trevor smirked and leaned in close, so his whisper tickled her ear; "Are you? I heard you were a Hanner. Fine group of wizards, the Hanners. I used to love their daughter. Then she died." Mack didn't know what was more surprising, the fact that this man could love someone and she died and he could just...say it without feeling; or the fact that he knew or secret and the Hanner's were still living. Trevor gave a satisfied smirk before he pulled away, tapping the side of his head and nodding; "I know just about everything, Mackenzie." Now Mack was starting to think he was mental.

"Ah, there you are." A voice interrupted the silence between them, a male voice. Mack didn't need to look up to know it was the jovial Hank. She rolled her eyes and looked at him, parading a fake smile on her lips; "I'm sorry, were you looking for us?" She asked with an innocence in her voice that could fool anyone. Hank smiled, as if he had just been rewarded something. The love of a daughter he would never receive; "Supper's ready." And he opened the door wider for the two to walk through. He stopped Trevor, however, and there were harsh whisperings. Mack couldn't catch a word of it, much to her dislike. In a moment Trevor joined her and said; "My bloody father. Said being locked in a room with you wasn't becoming of a young man. First he wants me to get along with you, now he's afraid we're going to get along too much." Mack grinned at this, and winked; "We'll have to put on a show at supper then, won't we?"

"Why, Mackenzie Holden, I haven't the slightest idea of what you are going on about." Trevor replied, a similiar glint of mischeif in his eyes. They grinned at each other and strode into the dining room. Time for dinner theatre.

[trevor]

Mack was a mystery. Yes. Trevor knew who she really was. The story of the youngest Hanner child being kidnapped was well known amongst the Bradshaw family, or at least to those who wanted to know it. Trevor shot his father a quick glare from over his salad. Hank was too busy sending googly eyes at Pam to notice his own son's hatred. Pam sent a high-pitched girlish giggle, and in unison Mack and Trevor rolled their eyes. The giggling stopped immediately and in unison; "Don't roll your eyes!" This caused the two adults to laugh heartily, and Trevor swore if there wasn't a table between them they would start to snog again. Wait. What was that? It came again. A tap on his foot. He tapped back. And then there was a harder kick. Trevor looked across the table at Mack who was sending him a look.

"So, Mack, you go to Hogwarts, eh?" Trevor asked her with a charming smile as he speared a tomato with his fork. Mack smirked and took a drink of her water from the wine glass. Absurd that Hank thought this was occasion enough for the good dishes, "Yes. I'm actually in the Slytherin house. My sister, Dixie, is as well. I'm sure Mother Dearest has told you as much." She looked at her mother from the corner of her eye, and Trevor doubted anyone but he noticed it. Mack realized this as well and continued talking; "Dixie, she's a spirited person. Surely you've met her? If not, I must take you to Bethlem to see her. She's not herself when she's around certain people." Mack sent him a look, saying not to judge Dix just yet. If he had met her, than it was probable he had gone with Pam, and that meant Dixie hadn't acted herself. But how "herself" could she be? She was nutters! Trevor nodded politely; "I shall like that." He said, playing along. Mack grinned down at her salad, before continuing; "She wasn't always...as she is, you know. She has friends at Hogwarts, we both do." Mack looked up at Trevor, as if she could read his thoughts. How could this girl be anything but a social leper? But here she was, proving him wrong.

"In fact, my boyfriend is Jack Rendel. Perhaps you have heard of his father? Roger Rendel? His younger sister, Padme, is Dixie's...well....I don't quite know what to call Padme. She isn't a friend, she's much more to Dix. I suppose she's like a younger sister. One she always wanted but could never have." Was that sadness Trevor saw in Mack's eyes? No. Well, whatever it was, it was gone as soon as it came. Trevor tapped Mack's foot, lightly, letting her know he was sorry. She looked up sharply, and kicked him back tenfold. If that's what he got for trying to be nice to the wretched soon to be step-sister, then he wasn't going to do it again! "Yes...Rendel. I dare-say, not a very good name to carry around is it?" Trevor said with a smirk. Mack's eyes. God. When they were angry, they were the deepest blue.

"Neither is Bradshaw!" She nearly hissed at him. Trevor smirked again, raised his glass in recognition. "Touché." He took a sip, "Although, I'm sure - I at least show some respect to my name, is that right Father?" Before Hank could say anything, Mack was jumping down Trevor's throat; "Are you calling Jack an unworthy acquaintance?" She asked haughtily. Trevor appeared to think this over for a bit, before nodding slowly and saying; "Yes, I think I am." Mack glared at him from across the table, "Jack Rendel is far better an acquaintance than you shall ever be!" Hank cleared his throat, and Mack sent him a glare - that shut him up. Trevor was impressed. How could a 15 year old girl, have so much power of a nearly 40 year old grown man? Well, Hank wasn't really acting mature because of the whole "love" thing. But no matter how much power Mack appeared to have over Hank, it was nothing compared to how much she had over Pam.

"Mackenzie, that'll be enough!" Pam hissed just as deadly as Mack had hissed at Trevor. She was clearly embarrassed of the way her daughter was acting. But Mack wouldn't have any of it; "Don't get me started on you! You who didn't even think it a good idea to tell me I was going to have a step-father and step-brother! You who have ruined my life! You who married Derreck, who let him harm me, you who are weak to everyone! Don't get me started on you!" Mack stood up from her seat, shoving it hard across the floor, threw her napkin down on her salad; "I wish to be excused." Trevor watched all this, impressed, in awe, and slightly frightened for Pam. Pam lowered her head, and stared at her hands which were wringing themselves in her lap. Mack started to leave the room, when Trevor saw it coming before anyone did. The booming voice of Hank came from his seat at the end of the table.

"Sit back down, young lady!" Mack turned on her heel and raised an eyebrow at him. Trevor stood as well, "May I be excused, Father?" He asked innocently. Hank didn't move. He didn't speak. Trevor took that as a yes, and dashed out of the room. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, and waited to hear this out. Pam's voice could be heard next; "You're right. I'm sorry. I should've spoken to you about this fi-" "DAMN RIGHT!" Mack shrieked. Trevor smirked. "You will not curse at your mother!" Hank boomed at her. Trevor could practically see Mack's scoff; "Do you think you have any right to tell me what to do? You aren't my father, you shall never be my father, I have a father." Yeah, one that doesn't care. Trevor thought. What father actually cares though? What father was ever really there? What father really ever loved their child?

"May I be excused?" Mack asked, and for a moment - Trevor thought he heard a waver in her voice. "Yes, of course." Pam said hastily. Mack had started crying. She walked out of the dining room - wiping her cheeks, Trevor grabbed her elbow and pulled her into a room. The lights were out. This was his favourite room. The only room in the house that wasn't modernized. He found the gaslight and turned it up, soon the room was illuminated; "Are you alright? I'm sorry about what I said, about the Rendels. You're right. He probably is a far better acquaintance than I shall ever be. I just didn't like hearing it. You are the first person aside from Madilyn that has ever put me in my place. And for that, I am grateful."

Mack wiped her eyes again; "Madilyn?" She asked quietly, sitting down on a couch that was covered in a sheet. She pulled her legs up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. Trevor sat down on the other end of the couch and draped his arm over the armrest. His green eyes looked at Mack and sighed; "The Hanner girl I told you about." Mack nodded. He continued; "Madilyn Hanner, you probably thought you were the youngest Hanner. But there was someone...close to your age. Madilyn. Oh she was...she was everything. The bluest eyes, the blondest hair. She looked like you - only no red hair." He reached over and pulled on her red locks. Mack smiled, "Please, do go on." He smiled in return and leaned back. He closed his eyes as if imagining her. How was it possible? That he could remember her so well?

"Well..." But before he could say anything more there was a soft snoring from the other end. Trevor smirked, lifted Mack up - she was surprisingly light - and walked to a room near to his. Her bags were brought up, and he placed her on the bed. He then returned to the room, and pulled out a leather bound book. He opened it and began to read where he left off.

Dear Diary,

I don't know what to think anymore. My vision has begun to blur, and everything seems to be going wrong. I love him, I think. I must be. Why else would I be...like this? The only other thing I can think of is witchcraft and Trevor isn't a witch. He couldn't be. I love him so. Father says I mustn't. People like Trevor bring bad into the world. He's still sad about Molly. He shouldn't be. That was nearly 9 years ago. Molly...they have me. Why aren't I good enough for them?

Must go.

Love always,
Madilyn

[Mackenzie Holden]

God, what a horrid dream. Mack thought groggily as she sat up in the bed. Which was softer, larger, than usual. No! Mack opened her eyes and threw off the blanket, which was made of the nicest silver coloured velvet. She put her feet on the ground, shuddering from the cold hard wood. No! She stood and walked to the window, looking down at the winter wonderland. "No! Dammit!" Mack hit her head against the window and shook from rage. Why hadn't it been a dream?! Why couldn't it just....be a dream?! Mack found herself hitting her head against the window repeatedly until she was certain she would have a raw bump on her forhead. She sighed, put her back to the window, and leaned against the windowsill. The room was bare but furnished. It had no...emotion. No personality. The hardwood floors were of a deep chestnut colour as was the rest of the house, and the walls were a cream. The bed was probably the most extravagant thing in the room.

It was huge! On one side there was a wooden stool that led up to it, it was that big. The blankets were silver velvet, and there was a crocheted green throw blanket at the foot of the bed. The headboard was made up into a shelf which held many small trinkets and figurines. Crystals were hung above the window, and the light cast rainbows through them. Prisms. Mack sighed as she stepped away from the window and made her way into the conjoined bathroom. The marble flooring was cool beneath her feet, and it made her shiver once more. On her right there was a claw foot bath tub, it was large and she could possibly swim in it. With another deep sigh, which seemed to echo in the large bathroom, she drew the bath water. It poured into the tub, the steam rising. She stripped, and then stepped in and turned off the tap. She put her head under the water, and let her caress her. Kiss her. Swallow her whole. She pulled herself back up and breathed as she smoothed out her hair with both hands. The water was so inviting. So welcoming. For once in the past week she felt as if she were at peace. Too bad this feeling couldn't last forever.

Mack washed herself and her hair, and then got out and wrapped a towel around herself. She unplugged the drain and replaced the towel with a robe that was hanging on the back of the door. With the towel she massaged her hair gently as she walked out of the bathroom and back into her room. She wasn't alone. "Do you take long enough baths?" Trevor asked, clearly annoyed. Mack rolled her eyes and sat down at her vanity, looking at him by way of the mirror. She grabbed a brush from the vanity, which hadn't ever been used, and started to pull it through her hair. Counting as she did so. "God, what did you do in there? Flood it?" Trevor asked. He was trying to taunt her. It wasn't going to work; "24...25...26..." Mack responded, loudly, obnoxiously. He sighed; "How do you like your room?" Finally a question she would answer. "Fine." She didn't promise an intelligent one. Trevor sighed, annoyed. He walked over to her and threw something down on the vanity, "That might be of interest to you Princess. It's Madilyn's diary. Don't ask how I got in possession of it. It has some interesting things in it by the name of Molly Hanner." Mack looked up, her brush in mid-stroke. Immediately she grabbed the diary and opened it.

After a few sentences, Mack looked up at Trevor; "How the hell did you get this?" She asked, even though he had told her not to. Trevor smirked, "We were a couple, remember? Our parents were planning our wedding when we were 7. Come now, Mack. What does dear Madilyn say about her darling sister Molly?" Trevor sends her another daring smirk and nods as if telling her to look further. Mack, completely intrigued, opened the diary and continued to read. There was a lot of mushy stuff about how she felt about Trevor. Stuff about magic and how she might be under a spell. Mack snorted at that; "Was she?" She asked. Trevor smiled cockingly; "Does it matter? She loved me." Mack glares, "Yes it matters you selfish git! It isn't real unless it means something! And magic is not real, not for what you would have been using it for." Mack stood up and placed her hand on the back of the chair she was sitting in. Trevor loooks bored.

"Yes yes. True love. Blah blah. Continue reading." Trevor prodded. Mack did so, after she sat on the small couch that was against one wall. She turned the pages lightly, and delicately. She could feel Trevor's eyes on her, and it was something that made her a bit uneasy. But the pages, they held so many secrets. So many stories. Stories about Kristie. About Mack. Or Molly. But weren't they the same person? They had to be. Same blood. Same...history. They were not seperate, as Madilyn made quite clear in her diary. The entries were sometimes unbearable to read. Mack didn't want to hear about how deeply Madilyn loved Trevor. She didn't know why, but she felt herself jealous and would grow hot in the cheeks with embarrassment at what Madilyn wrote. This seemed to satisfy Trevor, "Alright. I can't read anymore. There's nothing more but her dreams about you, and frankly I don't want to read all that." Mack handed the diary back to Trevor and sprawled herself out on the couch.

He took the diary, slipped it into a drawer on a nighttable, "For future midnight reading." He said with a wink before he sunk down onto the empty cushion next to Mack. There was silence before he said; "I have to ask you something, Mack." She looked at him with suspicous eyes and waited; "Do you know anything about your family? I mean, your blood family? Not the Holdens." Mack thought of this. Not really. She hadn't wanted to go into the whole details. She didn't want to know. But now it seemed her past had caught up with her. She shook her head slowly, "If you found out you weren't who you thought you were your whole life, would you want to continue to find out who you really were?" She asked him back. Trevor thought this through. Good. She wanted him to think.

"No. I wouldn't. I understand." He answered quietly.

[trevor]

He gripped her hand tightly as he led her through the tall grass toward the abandoned building. She complained as her cloak got caught on a stalk, and he had to untangle the soft velvet before she allowed him to pull her further on. Their feet crunched in the snow, and their breaths came out in short white puffs of air. Mack started complaining again; "When you offered to take me on a walk, Trevor, I hadn't expected on going hiking to an unknown land." She whined from behind him. Trevor stopped and turned to look at her. She had curled her hair and had some woven some holly into her braid that lay nicely on her head. She looked like someone from the medieval times. His own messy hair was hidden underneath a hat, and he was sensible to remember to wear mittens and tennis shoes. Not boots and no gloves at all. He narrowed his eyes at her; "You're the one who agreed to it, Mack. You could have just as easily declined." He was right, and she knew it. Without another word, Trevor turned on his heel again and continued his trek to the building. She was still grumbling behind him. God he hated how much she reminded him of Madilyn!

"Not much further, Mack." He said huffily as he marched up the small hill. Past this hill was their destination. The Hanner mansion. It had been abandoned for nearly 12 years. Ever since the death of Kristie. Trevor had stopped walking, and he was looking at the house with a glimmer in his eye. Mack huffed up next to him and grimaced; "Suede and snow aren't a good mixture, you know." Trevor shook his head sadly, but didn't turn his attention away from the mansion. So many secrets lay in those walls. So many things could come unraveled if he took Mack in there. He probably shouldn't, but he felt he had to. He felt he owed it to her...to Madilyn. He grabbed Mack's hand and tugged her down the hill toward the mansion. She was complaining behind him, but he didn't hear a word of it. He tugged harder on her arm, and pulled her down faster. He wanted to get to the mansion. His feet carried him at a frightening speed, and within a minute they were standing on the front porch.

"God, Trevor! You nearly pulled my arm of it's socket!" Mack chided him. Trevor shrugged it off and pushed on the door. It opened slowly, and even the noise of Mack's constant complaining ceased. He stepped inside the house, feeling along the wall for the light switch. When he found it, he flicked it up and grinned at what he saw. The house looked the same as it always had. The only difference was it was coated in dust. There were no sounds coming from any of the rooms, it was a ghost town. It was sort of eery. But Trevor felt at home here. He grabbed Mack's elbow and led her up the stairs to the rooms. There was a long hallway of doors, and he chose the third one on the right. Once inside, he turned to Mack and said in a low whisper; "This is Madilyn's room. There's something you ought to see." Mack raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. Trevor thanked the Lord for this small favour before he got on all fours and started tearing up the hardwood floor. After ten minutes, he pulled out a bundle. Something was wrapped in the finest of blue silk. He unraveled the silk and handed the contents inside it, to Mack.

"What's this supposed to be?" She asked, as if this were all a joke and someone was going to jump out from behind the door screaming "surprise!" at her. Trevor watched as she sank to the floor and stared at the pictures, the ring, and the necklace. He crawled over next to her, and looked over her shoulder - laying his chin on it. He took the picture from her and pointed with his other hand; "Madilyn," He said, pointing to a baby on the left, "Kristie." He said as he pointed to a lady in the middle with a lovely smile on her face, "Molly." He pointed to the baby on the right. He looked at Mack, "You." He pointed to the actual Mack. She looked at the picture and shook her head before standing and shoving Trevor away; "No. It isn't possible." She muttered. Trying to reassure herself, "I don't have another sister." She whispered. She stopped pacing, and looked at Trevor; "I have Dixie. That's it! That's all! I don't...no." She shook her head again, trying to erase this.

"Not only are you her sister, Mack, you're her twin! You and Madilyn, born on the same day. Five minutes apart. To Kristie Hanner. You were kidnapped. Madilyn wasn't. Derreck only wanted you. Mack, this was what Madilyn and I had tried to understand and unearth for years. Years, Mack! And here you are - and you make everything so...easy to understand. It's so clear now. Why Derreck wanted you. He knew. He knew you would have the magic in you! He only kidnapped you. Just you. And he left Madilyn to live with her grandparents, and he killed Kristie and he killed Josh. You are Molly Hanner. Don't you see?" He approached her, putting his hands on her shoulders, shaking her lightly. Tears poured from her eyes. She shook her head, "No. It isn't true. It can't be." She whispered. Trevor shook her harder. "It is true, Mack! It is! What more proof do you need?" He glared at her. She looked up. That defiance back in her eyes.

"How about a birth certificate?" She asked with a sneer before she shoved him away and ran out of the mansion. Damn it. This was going to be harder than he thought.