Title: Twinning.
Disclaimer: I don't own Batman Beyond.
Warnings: Some liberties are taken here, but that just makes it interesting.
Summary: "You take the left, I'll take the right. You'll be the Red Queen, I'll be the White." –Identical twins cannot stay that way forever; especially when coming from a legacy paved in blood and secrets. A look into the point of view of everyone else as the Deeds' move on in different directions. These will be a collection of one-shots through various points in the lives of the twins and anyone they come to have in their lives.

These chapters will fall in and out of time as I see fit. Everyone else is doing it, why not I?

Blue Silver-:-

The mushrooms and green onions were cooking pretty evenly in the pan. Once in a while, Deidre would have to move some of the thicker ones around via the long metal chopstick she used for these sorts of things. The grease used to boil the vegetables had already burnt the ends of her fingers and she was getting reasonably annoyed with all of this.

The roses in the vase behind her, so small being set on such a large dining table in such an empty house, gave a little rattle when she set the chopstick back down. The food would be done soon so she wouldn't need it for a while.

The kitchen she stood in, trying to cook for her only blood relatives, was actually fairly small, but the dining table was meant for a large family. It stood in the middle of the room like a reminder of something long ago. All faded wood with a black table cloth meant for restaurants and lovers in the woods and, of course, the yellow roses she'd bought for Nanna a week ago in the glass vase.

Absently, the bright eyed blond picked up the liqued seasoning for the vegetables and added more. When the cold liquid hit the food and the burning pan, some smoke rose into the air, but it didn't last more than a second and she was back to just looking at her surroundings. Waiting.

She had been in the house for the last couple of hours, trying to avoid thinking about the heist she and the others were supposed to commit that night. Her Nanna was out, picking up her own groceries with that rundown old car, so Deidre had decided to clean the place and cook some food for the old woman and maybe a little for her gang.

Giving a little shrug to loosen up her shoulders, Deidre turned from the food and walked around the house to stretch out her legs after standing in the same place for so long. Her feet were bare and made no noise, but if there was a safer place to be without wearing something to protect the soles of her feet, she didn't know where it was.

The house wasn't exactly large, but it wasn't small either. It had a living room, a small dining room in the same area as the kitchen, a second floor with Nanna's consistently locked door and two other bedrooms meant for Deidre and Delia. Though, of course, Delia hadn't actually stayed in the room for more than a year. There was also a trapdoor somewhere in the small laundry room that was nailed shut sometime during the twins' childhood. Nanna Harley said that there was nothing beyond the nailed wood besides piping and electric wires that she didn't want the girls getting into.

The tiled floor beneath her feet was cut off in the living room by a soft blue carpet and she took a seat on the old dark blue couch, hands setting into her lap and fiddled with the hem of the yellow apron she had put on for cooking over her one piece green dress with the white sleeves. The room was her favorite, even above her own. It was like a memory from her Nanna's life, no technology and several shelves nailed to the walls filled with hundreds upon hundreds of mercifully paper books. Some of them were even older than Nanna and Deidre had spent her early years reading as many of them as she could reach, grateful for the Dewey Decimal System they were organized by.

It was a pity that Delia kept trying to convince Nanna to sell them all off, but then, Delia had never appreciated history.

Her big, silver blue eyes settled onto the clock hanging in the archway and her features seemed to sadden a little. It was almost time for her to leave, the little black arm of the hour hand trying to touch the rim of seven, and the minute hand with its tiny red heart set in a gem inside of it was steadily moving down for the six. She'd spent days waiting for the right time to go and see Nanna and now all that would happen was that she'd end up leaving her a cold plate of the still sizzling food, wrapped in foil and a little greeting card saying she had been in the house.

Oh well. At least she had proof that she'd actually been to see the old woman.