DG can never remember not having it, the ugly thing on her shoulder. It's dark brown, a perfect star in a perfect circle, perched right on the edge of her clavicle. Her pediatrician poked and prodded it on a visit when she was eight.

"Well..." he says, sliding back on his rolling chair, "we could biopsy it..."

"Oh it's just a birthmark. I'm not worried," Emily chimes in with a wave of her hand.

"I don't like the look of it," he says, again leaning forward for a repeat examination, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

"Yeah, me neither, " pipes up DG on her mother's lap.

"It won't be necessary, " says Emily, pulling her sleeve back in place.

The doctor, still unsure, writes the name of a pediatric dermatologist on a piece of paper and hands it to her, "Well, in case you change your mind. She's young so you've got plenty of time to decide."

As soon as he leaves the room, Emily chucks it in the bin.

"Now, how about some ice cream?"

Popsicle likes to call it her guiding star and tells her it'll protect her.

She just rolls her eyes.

Pops always like to talk in riddles and stories. She's ten and getting a bit old for that kiddy stuff.

She is eleven and at her first pool party when a girl her age frowns at her.

"What's that?" She asks, pointing to her mark.

"A birthmark."

"It's gross."

"So?"

"You shouldn't go swimming without a shirt. No one wants to see that."

DG shrugs before lunging forward and shoving her into the water.

She is thirteen and in class when her shoulder starts to ache. She rubs it absently, trying to focus again on her English lesson. She is just getting to the part on gerunds when it starts to burn. She yelps, falling out of her desk, patting at the mark furiously as if trying to put it out. The lights in the room sputter and die as she hits the floor. She crawls back into her desk, already forgotten by the rest of the class, and mutters a small thanks for the lights going out. She's already thought to be strange by the other kids.

She swears the damn thing aches for years from that day on.

DG has just about had her fill of weird for the day... flying through a tornado, kidnapped by a Disney attraction gone horribly wrong, and then meeting a man with half a brain. She just wants to find momster and popsicle, but right now she is hammering bolts on a metal suit to free whomever or whatever is still inside.

He is terrifying, tall, and has eyes that stare right past her. He moves robotically on limbs that she suspects haven't been used in years to rip the projector from the post before disappearing into the house.

She and Glitch stare at each other uncertainly, debating on checking on him when he marches out again, this time moving much more fluidly with a bundle of items in his arms.

"Go over there," he growls in a voice that brokers no argument and points to the forest. She and Glitch settle against a tree facing away from the house as they hear a splash.

DG wants to laugh at the insanity of it all and doesn't notice her shoulder is pain free for the first time in years.

She doesn't know what to make of him. He grumbles and growls, never smiling. But still, he looks after her, even doing things she would go as far as to call kind.

And then he just leaves.

She tries to push back the fear and sadness she feels at his departure but just can't shake the feeling of being completely vulnerable in this strange world.

I still have Raw and Glitch. It'll be fine, she tells herself, getting into the ill fitting dress Milo provides.

He keeps looking at her and she would be lying if she said it wasn't both pleasant and unnerving. He only does it when he thinks she won't notice but she can feel it every...damn...time.

It's been happening ever since he found her at the witch's prison and she unthinkingly hugged him.

It was so stupid of her...the man hadn't been touched in a decade and she had just completely plastered herself to him. She felt the stiffness of shock run through his body and though he tried to return the hug, his arms quickly fell away. Her shoulder started to ache and she had to push herself back, confused by the impulse to just sink into him.

Way to make it weird, DG she curses herself.

What's even worse is that she can't seem to stop looking at him either.

It could be her imagination but he seems nicer, more attentive and he hasn't avoided her touch since that first time in the tower.

He pleads with her to do what she can to save herself.

Then he holds her.

For her life, she cannot figure out why this man she barely knows feels more familiar than anything or anyone else she has encountered since she got here.

Azkadellia's eyes widen as she catches view of her sister's shoulder when part of the neck line of her shirt slips down.

"I had forgotten..." she says motioning to her arm.

"What?" asks DG spinning in a circle, "Oh that? I've always had it. Do you have one too? Is it a genetic Gale thing?"

Azkadellia's eyebrows draw together as she shakes her head. "No, DG it is not. It's the mark of a soulmate. It represents the person you are destined for."

DG snorts out a laugh,"Right. So an astronomer? Astronaut? Does the O.Z. have a bustling space program I'm not aware of?"

She turns back to her sister when she doesn't hear her laugh.

"Oh god, you're serious."

"Let me see it. I don't remember what it was."

DG pulls down the neckline of her shirt and doesn't miss the immediate look of surprise on her sister's face. She sees her mark with new eyes and is ashamed she didn't recognize it, the meaning now painfully apparent. After all, she had seen the same shape not that long ago in a trinket left at a grave.

"Oh that bastard!" she says clenching her fist, "He knows!"

"Everyone deserves a choice," he says looking at the ground while twisting his hat in his hands.

"And this is yours?" she asks, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice.

"I'll protect you as it is my duty but this is the right thing to do."

DG scoffs, folding her arms over her chest, her fingers digging into her triceps.

"I'm too old-"

"You didn't age in the suit."

"I still lived those years, DG. Besides, I'm a commoner."

"Exceptions are made for soulmates."

He sighs in frustration, twisting his hat so viciously she swears it will tear.

"You are the light of the OZ and have your whole life ahead of you. You deserve so much more than I can give you from a forced bond created by magic. You should be loved of someone's free will."

He looks as if every word has to be forced from his lips.

"And if I choose you?"

He looks up at her then and she can see it all: pain, uncertainty, longing, but they are soon shuttered behind the look she knows best.

Resolve.

"I won't let you."

And with that he leaves.

She doesn't speak to him for weeks but he is always there, watching her back, as promised.

She decides she will be patient. He is right about one thing: she is young and she's got plenty of time. But that is no balm for the sting of his rejection when he holds her away at arms length whenever she gets too close.

She felt it. The unmistakable burn of the bullet as it streaked across the skin of her temple. If Cain hadn't been so fast... the thought of dying in such a violent way shakes her to her core and she can't help but envision her brains on the ballroom floor, her mother's horrified expression, and Cain covered in her blood.

She rushes into him, seeking out comfort and relishing how with a simple touch he can drive the fears away. But then he steps back and she remembers his rules... always the damn rules.

"I'm sorry, Cain" she says, showing her hands to prove she has herself in check. She feels cold and empty. "I didn't mean to... I know you don't like me to touch you." She is surprised by the warm feel of his hand on her wrist and is even more shocked when he presses her palm over his heart. Her mark tingles.

"I'm sorry, DG. I never meant to make you feel unwanted or unloved. Neither could be further from the truth."

She has to be honest about the pain he's caused but she sees the remorse in his eyes.

It will take time, she knows, to completely forgive him. But, hey, she's young and she's got plenty of that.