Calliope had known who she was since she was very, very small. Around the age of five she told her mom-Kaitlyn-she didn't really feel like a boy at all.

And she smiled. And she asked her, "Do you feel more like something else?"

And she said that, when she was older, she wanted to be a mommy, like her. Not a daddy. And her mother nodded. She said, "Why don't you tell me about that?"

Calli felt safe. And after a short conversation, she was getting to be called as she was around the house. Around the same time, and not just as in coincidence, she also started speaking more with her aunt: Imogen.

Imogen was rarely around. In fact, she almost never was. She was always too busy. But she was good. She was kind. And she was someone like her-the only one such she knew. And she was the reason she grew to do the job she did. Kaitlyn was the first person she had come out to as well. And when she did, she was terrified. And twenty.

She didn't know how she would take it. A negative reaction to something like this could mean danger. It could be catastrophic. It could ruin one's life.

But Kaitlyn didn't react poorly at all.

In fact she smiled. Like she always did. And she said to her:

"Why don't you tell me about that?"

She was young when she had Calliope; the product of an arranged marriage she never wanted for herself. But, it was long since over, now. Her husband had fallen ill: emphysema-a relatively common cause. He died shortly after Calliope had turned one year old. After that, Imogen came out, and three years from then, Calli did, too.

Kaitlyn had a good heart-sometimes to a disadvantage. And she still hurt for the callous, cruel man after he parted. Even if he hurt her. But at some time, she reconciled to a begrudging gratitude. He gave her Calli.

And he left before he could hurt her, too.

Calli may have been a child she never truly had a real choice in. But she still made sure she always felt wanted. Never like she didn't belong. She was the one who named her Calliope.

The young girl came to her for suggestions. She was struggling trying to find a name that suited her-the one she'd been given simply wouldn't do. Cayden. While neutral-though uncommon for women-it felt wrong to her. Still too masculine, and, while rough and tumble, like her-something she had always been and was always proud of-it just didn't feel right. She wanted something. Something that belonged to her.

When Kaitlyn found herself to be pregnant, she had secretly hoped to herself that it would be a girl. Calliope was floating around in her mind. She loved the sound of the name. It seemed whimsical. The name of someone made of magic. Someone who brought positivity and joy to others.

But it was a boy. Or so she was told. And she wouldn't have gotten a say in the name, anyway.

But the doctors were wrong. And looking at the young girl there, pouting, long, black hair covering an eye and brow furrowed in frustration, the suggestion slipped from her mouth. And she felt tears pricking her eyes-seeing how fervently her daughter grasped hold of it. She was immediately fond. And she grinned at her, wide and brilliant.

She had her mother's smile.

Calliope. Her muse.

Calli didn't take the poignancy at the time. But she adored the name. And it became her. Fit and perfect for her more bruskish type of femininity; a rarity here. Just like her name.

Then one day, something happened.

Calli had been herself for a heavy handful of years, now. And her mother, she felt, did a good job of raising her, too.

She was twelve when it happened. Her mother had come home disheveled, dirty, and bruised. She had a look in her eyes. Like she had been broken. Like Hell was empty. And she had seen all its devils.

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She smiled at her little girl, shaking. Calliope met her with a worried look. But, Kaitlyn kept on smiling, hallow as it was. Like she was trying to convince her nothing was wrong. That she just tripped in the street. But Calli wasn't stupid. She could tell there was something more. Even if she didn't have the capacity, really, to know exactly what.

But when she asked her, she simply said she'd just had a fall. And while it was the most worthless response she could have given... Calli took it. Because she didn't know how else to ask.

It was around a month later that Kaitlyn was sobbing on the bathroom. Calli heard her. And she asked what was wrong. But she lied to her again, through her teeth. She cut her sound, and spoke in a tone that betrayed everything Calli had heard.

"Nothing for you to worry about, sweetness."

That week, she fawned over Calliope a little more than usual. Calli appreciated the time. Even if there was something heavy she could feel looming over them. Hanging over their heads like the smog outside.

Kaitlyn had also started getting sick in the mornings. Her daughter heard her. And she changed. She became sullen and subdued. Quiet; distant.

She didn't smile like she used to.

And one day, when it became impossible to hide, she finally told her.

"Calliope, my sweet girl," she spoke softly, "I think you'll be having a sibling..." A hollow smile. Calli matched it exactly the same.

Then the worst.

Nine months later, her mother was in a bath-tub, screaming and crying and bleeding. It was all she could do. She couldn't go to the hospital; her skin was brown. And the nearest segregated one-the only for four districts-was an hour walking. She didn't have a car. She couldn't afford a car.

Calli didn't know what to do. But she was the only one there. So she did what she could. And she did what she was asked.

Calli's brother was born into the world, screaming. She had to cut him loose. She did the best she could.

At the end of it, Kaitlyn was exhausted and feebled. She could barely manage words. But her lips just managed to breathe, "Kit."

Calliope held, 'Kit,' to her chest, tightly. He was so small.

Kaitlyn looked at the two softly, as Calliope stood with her crying brother buried into her chest. She reached forth a feeble hand, and she brushed some bangs from one of her daughter's eyes so she could see the both of them. She brought that hand lightly to Calli's cheek. And she rasped:

"Drawer... Bed... Find Imogen." And, lastly of all, "I love you.... both of you."

And she smiled.

Her hand fell limp. Her wrist resounded with a thunk on the edge of the tub, before being limp beside her sprawled body. And Calliope just stared at her. Eyes wide. Lips parted slightly. Quivering as if wanting to scream, cry, say something. But in the end, not a thing could form together in her brain. Not one thought could come forth and tell her what she needed to do.

Until one finally came: 'Imogen.'

She wrapped her brother up in her own, old blanket the best she could. And she left right then, in the dead of the night.

It was so cold. She had only a tattered t-shirt on her back-one she still had-and a pair of loose sweatpants. Kit only had his sister's blanket. Which he also still had.

The Underground was not easy to find for her to find. And she was certain she had gotten turned around a few times. It took her almost until sunrise, dodging gangs and cops. Hiding in bushes and freezing and wanting to cry but not being able to mentally or otherwise. Until, finally, she made it to a large, rusted hatch in the ship floor. Right by the sea.

The sun was beginning to burn dimly through the smog in the air when she'd finally gotten there. Kit was cold against her chest, and frighteningly still. Her body was racked with chills, but she still managed to pull up the large, metal door there in the ship floor.

The hatch slammed back as she stumbled. She looked down into the pit she'd opened. Below was an old sewer tunnel, drained and out of use, if it ever was in use. And, while there may not have been water, there was, assuredly, a drop. And only a rickedy, rusty, old-steal ladder gapping it. She screamed into the tunnel a, 'Hello?!' Then she called her aunts name.

"Imogen?!"

But nobody came. Nor answered.

Then, her heart beating in her ears, body shaking, she straddled the ladder, a baby in one hand and a trembling other on the bars. And she began to descend. And for one reason or another-her nerves or the cold making her unstable or a sudden gust of wind from some nowhere-she fell.

Only saved by the swift grasp of strong arms.

Imogen stumbled as she struggled to hold the two kids.

She asked who they were, and what on Earth Calli thought she was doing. And as soon as Calliope said her name, she recognized her. But she said the old one, so, Imogen kindly corrected her. She introduced Kit as her brother, and Imogen frowned.

"... Kaitlyn never told me about any other kids..."

At her mother's name, her lip quivered. And she cried. Imogen felt her heart sink. Her own shudder almost gripped her, before better sense decided to get the kids safe. She said to the young girl, "Come on now, Cal. You're freezing. Let's get you home."

And Calli didn't respond as a gentle hand led the gasping girl through the tunnel to warmth and safety.

Calli and Imogen raised Kit together. Imogen was usually busy though, so, Calliope did most of it. And as he grew, she always tried to smile for him. Like someone once did for her, when she was young.

Kaitlyn Lucero. Her light, her hope. Her smile.