TEN YEARS AGO, AGED 15:

     Carla was sat in an alley, shivering slightly, sitting on a pile of crates as her gloved hands fumbled with the bag of crackers she had managed to snatch from a shop.

     She shoved one in her mouth greedily, eating it and letting out a small groan of satisfaction, her stomach grumbling its thanks.

     The past five years had been tiresome and far too long, a constant struggle Carla found herself on that never seemed to end or ease.

     The sound of footsteps made her flinch, looking upwards to see a figure standing there, "Why, hello."

     Carla instantly dropped the crackers, barely noticing as they scattered across the dirty floor, leaping to her feet in alarm.

     The figure was tall, lanky, a mass of wild hair on his head, but she couldn't quite make out his features.

     "What do you want?" she asked cautiously.

     "I just want to know what a youngster like you is doing on the streets," he said, taking a step forward.

     Carla stretched her arms out defensively, washing up gloves and all, "You need to leave me alone."

     She had invested in the gloves after Sarah's death, realising how easy it was for a person to lose control of their powers.

     He took another step forward, and now she could see his face a bit better: dark eyes with slightly smudged black eyeliner, sharp cheekbones, a curious expression on his face, "Why the washing-up gloves?"

     "That's none of your business," Carla snapped.

     The man took another step forward, before eyeing the crackers on the floor, "What a waste of decently good food."

     "What do you want?" Carla shot him a filthy glare, "Leave me alone."

     Klaus stepped forward again, looking at her this time, "You're kinda young to be on the street."

     "I'm not on the street," the teen said, too fast and too insistent, "I'm just waiting for my mom."

     "And your mom is where exactly?" the man asked, clearly not believing her.

     Carla's eyes darted to the first store she saw on the other side of the street, "That café over there."

     "Bullshit," he said, moving forward again.

     Unsure of his motives, and growing alarmed at how close he was getting, Carla begun to panic, and said, "Stay away from me."

     "I'm not going to hurt you-" the man said, before yelping and stumbling back. The teenager had taken off one of her gloves, exposing a hand that was glowing a fiery orange, staring at him menacingly, "Stay. Away."

     Klaus was breathing heavily, staring at her in awe and shock, before a large grin wove its way onto his face, "No fucking way!"

     Carla's hand lit up again, flames licking at her skin, "Fuck off, before I burn your balls off!"

     The man put up both hands in surrender, "Woah, woah, woah, hold your horses, Firecracker! I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm like you."

     The teen faltered, "What?"

     "I'm like you," he repeated, "I have powers too, but they're not as badass as yours."

     Carla stared at him, trying to deduce if he was taking the piss or not, "Are you serious?"

     "Yeah... I can talk to the dead," he said slowly, and Carla frowned, the information seeming vaguely familiar.

     She gasped, "You're the Séance!"

     The man sunk into a low bow, "Klaus Hargreeves at your service."

     Carla cautiously lowered her hand, looking at his appearance, and she frowned, "What the hell happened to you?"

     Klaus let out a bark of laughter, "Too much. May I ask for your name, or will you 'burn my balls off'?"

     She put on her washing up glove, "Carla Jenkins."

     "Well, Carla, I have to confess that I believe you're homeless," he said, sitting on the crates she was just perched on.

     Carla glared at him, before begrudgingly sitting down next to him, "And what if I am?"

     "Well, I think you would appreciate a place to stay," Klaus said, legs swinging slightly.

     "Very funny," she said bitterly, but Klaus looked at her in confusion.

     "Why's it funny?" Klaus asked, "I'm being serious. I know what it's like to be in your situation, and I have a place a few blocks away."

     "You can't be serious," Carla said simply, "You've known me all of five minutes."

     "And I'm willing to give you a place to stay. It must be hard for a teenager to get a place to stay unsupervised."

     She let out a chuckle, "You have no idea."

     A fifteen year old simply couldn't get a place for herself by herself. Ever since Sarah's death (and when she realised she had stopped aging), she had moved from place to place, sleeping in alleys.

     "Then come stay with me," Klaus said, "My place is kinda small, I guess, but the landlord owes me, and I know he won't ask any questions."

     Carla looked at him for a solid ten seconds, before letting out a quiet, "Holy shit, you're serious."

     "I thought we already established that!" Klaus said.

     She shook her head, "I can't, I'm sorry. I don't know you - you could have any sort of motives."

     Klaus gave her a look, "First of all, who the fuck says 'motives' in this day and age; secondly, I could be saying the same shit about you; you threatened to burn my balls off!"

     Carla had to admit: it was a solid point.

     She paused, "Okay."

     "Okay?"

     "Yeah, okay. I'll stay a night or two."

     Klaus grinned widely, "Nice. That's my good deed of the year done."

     Carla hopped off the crates, picking up her bag, "It's only for a few nights."

     "Whatever you say, Firecracker," Klaus got down too, beginning to lead the way out of the alley, a skip in his step, "Whatever you say."