CARLA TOOK OFF HER GLOVES, placing them gently on the floor. Her umbrella was laying closed next to them, the statue of headless Ben now upright next to the plinth it stood on, the metal head clutched in her arms.

     It was still raining, and she was getting wet, and it felt fucking awful, but she hated the thought of leaving the statue broken and forgotten.

     Her hair was clinging to her forehead, eyelashes clumping together slightly as she looked down at the head in her grasp. Then, she outstretched her right hand, palm facing upwards, and within seconds it was glowing a bright orange, the heat radiating off her flesh, a stark contrast to the miserable weather.

     Slowly, she used her index finger to trace the line of his neck, watching the metal turn bright orange and soften to a molten liquid. Stretching on her tip-toes, she placed the bottom of the head's neck onto the rest of the statue, trying to align it as best as she could.

     Carla held it in place for a few seconds, until the hot metal had cooled, before stepping back to admire her work. There was a small line where she had re-joined the neck, causing an influidity in the sculpture-work, but overall it looked pretty good.

     Satisfied, she nodded to herself, before tugging on her gloves again, and picking up her umbrella. She then glanced towards a window and saw the briefest flash of a face before it disappeared out of view.

     "God, this place creeps me out," she muttered, before heading inside, and looking around to try and deduce where Klaus would be.

     Of course, he would probably be where there was the most amount of noise, and sure enough, she heard a strum of a dreadfully out-of-tune guitar, followed by some vacant mumblings of lyrics not quite remembered.

     Carla walked into the basement, where Klaus was sitting in a chair, Five rummaging through the various cupboards.

     "Ah, Carla!" Klaus greeted, before holding out the electric guitar in his hands, "Can you tune this for me, my dearest?"

     "Sure," she smiled slightly, before taking the guitar and perching on the edge of the table, beginning to pluck the E string, tweaking the tuner until she was content.

     Growing up the way she had, living with Klaus in and out of rehab all the time, meant that there weren't too many things a fifteen-year-old could do without supervision. Picking up music was one way she tried to pass the time.

     Klaus frowned slightly, "Why are you wet?"

     Carla rolled her eyes, "Because it's raining, dumbass."

     "But you had an umbrella," he pointed out.

     She paused, listening as she tuned one of the strings, before replying, "Yes I did. But I put the umbrella down."

     "Why?" he crossed his arms over his chest.

     "Because I wanted to fix Ben's statue," Carla said as though it were obvious, and was aware that Five was listening intently.

     A part of her wanted to ask what was going on, how he appeared to know her and how, but then again, she thought it better not to ask.

      Sometimes ignorance was bliss.

     Plus, they had time. Her gloved hands awkwardly navigated their way around the fretting of the guitar, and she cursed as she played the wrong string.

     Klaus looked at her strangely, "Just take them off."

     "Yeah, no thanks," Carla muttered through gritted teeth, "I can do it with my gloves on."

     Clearly unconvinced, Klaus just nodded, lips pursed, teetering on the back two legs of his chair. There was a silence, in which the only only sounds were Carla tuning the guitar and Five going through the drawers and cupboards.

     Then Allison walked in, "Where's Vanya?"

     Carla briefly looked up, before strumming the guitar once and handing it over to Klaus, who strummed once, singing a dreadfully out-of-tune, "Thank yoooou! "

     "Oh," he then turned to Allison, answering her question, "she's gone."

     "That's unfortunate," Five said, holding an empty coffee pot, "An entire square block, forty-two bedrooms, nineteen bathrooms, and not a single drop of coffee."

     "Dad hated caffeine," Allison reminded him.

     "Well he hated children too," Klaus muttered, holding the guitar to his chest, "and he had plenty of us!"

     Klaus let out a bitter chuckle, and there were a few seconds of silence, before Five shoved his hands in his pockets, "I'm taking the car."

     "Where are you going?" Klaus sat up straight.

     Five turned to face him, "To get a decent cup of coffee."

      "There's a place ten  minutes away, called Griddy's Donuts," Carla offered, and Five looked at her, before nodding.

     "Griddy's it is," he said, before jerkily averting his gaze, an unreadable expression on his face.

     Allison crossed her arms, "Do you even know how to drive?"

     "I know how to do everything," Five told her, confidence dripping from every word, before turning on his heel and teleporting.

     "I feel like we should stop him," Klaus said vacantly, unsteadily getting to his feet, "But then again, I just wanna see what happens."

     A moment later, the sound of tyres squealing on tarmac was heard, and the three of them listened intently.

     "He has balls," Carla admitted, "More than me, I'll tell you that."

     It was then Diego walked in, "Alright, guess I'll see you guys in ten years. What, when Pogo dies?"

     "Not if you die first," Allison said simply.

     "Yeah," Diego mused, a bitter smile on his face, "Love you too, sis. Good luck on your next film, hope it turns out better than your marriage."

     Carla's eyes went wide, and she exchanged a look with Klaus, both holding back laughs.

     "Are-Are we leaving?" Klaus asked Diego.

     "No, I'm leaving-"

Klaus clapped his hands, excited, "Oh, fabulous! I'll get my things."

     "When are you gonna be back?" Carla asked, still perched on the table, knowing that he was going to get his fix of drugs.

     "I have no idea," Klaus grinned, "Just don't wait up for me."

     "Trust me," she teasingly rolled her eyes, "I won't."

     "Bye, Carl, I'll see you later! Feel free to sleep in my room!" He blew her an exaggerated kiss, before flouncing out of the room, leaving Carla alone with Allison.

     "So, uh, how long have you been  fifteen again?" Allison asked after a few seconds of almost painful silence, trying to start up any sort of conversation.

     "Fifteen years," Carla answered simply, trying to hold back from mentioning that she was sure she had already told Allison this.

     The woman nodded, before asking, "If you don't age, does that mean you're immortal? That you're going to stay fifteen for the rest of time?"

     "That's something I think about a lot, actually," she confessed, "And honestly I don't know. Maybe one day the Universe will be sick of me and I'll just drop dead. I definitely think I'll either be killed or kill myself before I become some sort of eternal being. Holy shit, imagine that, being stuck as a fifteen-year-old forever."

     Allison couldn't hide the smile that formed on her face, "It would majorly suck. What's it like, though? Being fifteen for so long?"

     "I mean, I know I often tell Klaus I'm the same age as him and stuff, but I don't think I really am. Sure, I've seen the same stuff a thirty-year-old has seen, but I feel fifteen, and I think that's because I literally haven't aged as I should. Like, mentally and stuff."

     "Really?" Allison asked, clearly interested, "Is that what's gonna happen to Five?"

     "I have no clue. If so, I cant even imagine what it must be like for him to go from being fifty-eight to fifteen again," she answered.

     "It must be hard," Allison noted quietly.

     "Exactly," Carla got up, looking around the basement, before turning to Allison, "Your dad really doesn't have any coffee in the house?"

     "Nope."

     "Shit. I should have asked Klaus to bring some back for me," she huffed.

     "How did you become friends with Klaus?" Allison asked, sitting down in a stool.

     Carla grabbed the half-empty bag of marshmallows from a shelf, sitting back down again, "He kinda stumbled into the alley I was sleeping in, I almost killed him, and then he took me under his metaphorical wing and gave me a place to stay."

     "You live with each other?" The actress was unable to hide the surprise from her voice.

     "Well, it was either that, or I stay on the streets. A teenager can't go up and just buy a house."

     "Right, of course," she chuckled awkwardly, "I, uh, what's it like to live with him?"

     "Ugh," Carla groaned, playfully rolling her eyes, "He'll sometimes go missing for a night, then arrive the next morning saying he had a hook up with someone, he tends to pass out on the kitchen floor a lot, and he's fucking awful at laundry. But then again, he is the one who gave me a place to stay."

     Allison laughed, "Oh, you must be saint for managing to live with that."

     Carla chuckled too, "Yeah, I guess. But enough about me. Tell me about yourself."

     "Tell you what?" Allison looked taken aback.

     "Anything. Everything," she shrugged, "I really don't mind. You're the famous actress here, entertain me."

     Several hours later, the woman and teenager bid goodnight to each other, before settling into their separate rooms for the night, Allison feeling a lot warmer towards the girl, and Carla feeling like she had finally made an aquaintance. And with the Allison Hargreeves, no less.

     However, neither got much sleep that night, and spent most of their time in bed tossing and turning, minds whirring, hearts heavy.