A/N: This is a story I came up with when I had another account, I can't remember name because I lost the password, but whatever. I'm hoping the updates will be a bit longer than the Charmed one, I just finished, but I don't promise anything. College is a life suck, and I teach four and five year old children, the last thing I want to do after work, is think. :)

I saw it. He was laying on the floor motionless. It could not be real. No, what was going to happen? I was an only child, my mother was already dead. How does not matter, all that matters is everyone who can help me is gone.

I sat in the police station with Aunt Mary Shannon, a United States Marshall for the Witness Protection Program. She was not my real Aunt, My mother and her were good friends and they made an unofficial pact, in every sense that, they just did not write it down on paper, that if something happened to one of them, the other surviving woman would take care of the child left behind. So, since they were as close as sisters, I grew up calling her Aunt Mary.

"Honey, can't you remember anything?"

"No. I was going into the kitchen to tell my Dad something, and the gun went off."

"You didn't see who did it?"

"No, I was more concerned with the fact my father is dead on my kitchen floor."

"Yeah. Okay."

"Am I going home with you?"

"I'm not sure yet. But for tonight, at least, yes."

I nodded.

Mary walked off to speak to her boss, Stan.

"Stan, no foster home in the WORLD is trained to protect a witness, especially not one like him."

"Does Rebecca know what her Dad was involved in?"

"I doubt it." She said "and I want her last memories of her Dad to be good ones."

"I agree."

Marshall stepped in. "It might be better for Mary to tell her, that way she doesn't find out from someone else."

Mary ignored the comment. "Stan, please, let me take her home, you can have social services visit, I don't care, right now, she needs family."

"Tonight, at least. Yes. Try to get something out of her, she may not remember because of the trauma."

"Stan, we all know Kevin did it."

"Yes. It's just a matter of tying him to a crime, again."

Mary nodded and sat down at her desk.

"Mary, go home. Take Rebecca."

I sat in Aunt Mary's car. Looking out the window, trying to hide the fact I was crying.

"Honey, if you want to talk about what happened, we can."

"No."

"It doesn't have to be now, but whenever."

"No."

"Alright. No worries. I'll just order a pizza for dinner, make it as simple as possible.

I nodded.

We got to her house. It was odd, nothing had physically changed about the house, and I would daydream about living with Aunt Mary when I had a fight with Mom or Dad, but now that that dream was becoming a reality, I was not sure if I wanted it.

I laid on my bed. Trying to remember the events that had taken place, but I could not. I did not want Aunt Mary being disappointed in me for not being able to remember, but I could not.

She walked into my room with pizza.

"Here." She said setting it on the nightstand.

I nodded. "Can...we...talk?"

She nodded.

I swallowed hard. "When I was going into the kitchen to talk to Dad, I was going to tell him..."

I stopped. I did not want her to be disappointed in me. But it was inevitable, Dad would have been to.

"What, sweetheart?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"It must."

"I don't want you to be mad."

"Well, I would rather you ask my permission, than doing something behind my back."

"No, it's nothing like that."

She put an arm around my shoulder. "What is it?"

"I'm pregnant."

"I know." She said simply.

"You do?"

"Yeah, your Dad found the test in the garbage can, he called me, he wanted me to talk you into telling him, but since you were already going to do that...I guess I didn't need to, huh?"

"Why didn't you tell me, you knew?"

"I wanted you to come to me."

"So, will this mess things up?"

"With what?"

"Me staying here?"

"We'll make it work. Okay?" She said. "Eat, honey." She walked out of the room.

She quickly called Stan on the phone.

"Stan, she has to stay here-She's pregnant-I know-my original argument still stands in place-fine, no Marshall cannot have dibs on naming the baby – no you can't either – I'm going to need a few days to sort everything out with her, okay – Alright." She hung up the phone. She sat on the chair in the living room. She put her head in her hands and sighed.

She's fifteen. She said softly to herself.