Prologue
A/N: To read this story, you might want to go read chapters 13 through the end of my other story, The Telling Told. It's based on some stuff that I put in there, but you can understand this without reading it, I think. What it basically comes down to is whether you know what happened to Laura when she was a baby or not. If you do go back and read my other story, you may have to back as far as chapter 8 to make sense of it, or you may not.
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I am Laura Emily Vaughn. I sit quietly in my plane seat, watching my younger brother, Brandon Daniel Vaughn. He's scribbling on a sheet of paper. We are moving. Again.
My mother woke us early this morning so we could finish our packing. Even though we've been planning the move for a week, I haven't been allowed to tell anyone, so I couldn't have missed the whole week of school to pack. Six-year-old Brandon was kept home from his kindergarten class this week, and I know my mother told his teacher he had chicken pox.
He's almost the same age I was the first time.
*******FLASHBACK*******
"Mommy, why are you putting my toys in that box?"
"We're going away," Mommy says.
"Like a vacation?"
"Almost."
"Where's Daddy? Isn't he coming?"
"No, Sweetie, Daddy isn't coming. He has to stay here."
"Is Brandon staying too? He cries too much, he's too little."
"Brandon is coming. Now be a good girl and finish putting your toys in here, okay? You're seven, practically grown up."
*******END*******
I didn't get to say good-bye to Daddy. I wasn't awake when he got up to leave for his job at the bank. I was in bed when he got home the night before.
Brandon doesn't even remember Daddy. He was too little.
I remember him. He would always play with me when he was home. He went on trips for the bank a lot, so there were times when he wasn't home.
I wasn't allowed to tell anybody good-bye, like every other time. I won't be able to talk to them later, either.
Mom told me when I was only seven that I could never mention Daddy to Brandon, and I could never tell anyone Grandpa's name, and I could never tell anyone that my name used to be Laura Vaughn.
I'm Laura Jones to the world. I have been since I was seven. Brandon is Brandon Jones. And Mom is Sydney Jones.
"Mom, where are we going this time?" I ask.
"California," she replies.
That's where we *used* to live! In LA!
"Are we going home? Are we going to see Daddy?" I ask, excited now.
"No. I've told you about mentioning your father!" Mom says sharply.
"Sorry, Mommy." It is a phrase I've used since I was seven, every time I mention something or someone I'm not supposed to. I always sound so little when I say it.
"Mom, why do we keep moving?" This is our fifth move since the first one.
"Someday, I'll tell you, Laura, but not now. I know you think you're grown up at thirteen, but you've got a long way to go," Mom teases.
"When, Mom? I'm old enough to hear some of it, I'm sure. If you don't tell me, I'll find out on my own," I threaten.
"Not here," she says, looking around the crowded plane. I know she hopes I don't notice, but I do. "We'll talk about it when we get to the house," she promises.
"But Mom…"
"Laura, I will, I promise. But Brandon doesn't need to know any of this."
"Okay," I relent.
I take one of Brandon's coloring books and start coloring a picture of one of the Ninja Turtles.
"Hey!" he cries. "That's Michael Angelo! His headband isn't Pink!"
"I don't care. It is now."
"Mommy!"
Why does he have to drag Mom into this?
"Brandon, it doesn't really matter. May be Michael Angelo got tired of…the same old color," Mom says, realizing she doesn't know what color his headband is supposed to be.
I laugh softly.
"What?" Mom asks, hearing me anyway.
"Mom, what color *is* his headband?" I can't help it. Mom makes it so easy some times.
She throws one of those little airplane packets of peanuts at me.
"Are we there yet?" Brandon whines. He's tired quickly of his coloring books, and they've been thrown on the floor.
"Soon, baby," Mom says, giving him a picture book to look at.
"How long?" I ask quietly.
"An hour," she mumbles.
I pull out my CD player and choose a particularly loud Dixie Chicks CD.
******************************************************************************************
Sydney pulls into the driveway of the little house in the rented BMW that Laura likes so much. She makes sure to inform her that their sedan will be there tomorrow.
The house is less than an hour from LA, but that is why it is the last place anyone expects to find her. Michael, as she'd finally become accustomed to calling him after Laura's homecoming, would never think to look for her here.
Sydney notices that Laura seems more upset by this move than by the others. She is afraid to tell her daughter too much about her past life, but she has to tell her something. She won't lie to her daughter. She's sure Laura's first question will be about her father.
As she forces Brandon to help unpack his clothes, she worries about what Brandon heard his sister say.
"Why did we have to move?" he asks suddenly.
"Mommy got a new job. I'm going to be a teacher at *your* school," she says, hoping to deter any further questions. It works.
"Wow! Really! That's so cool! Everyone will be so jealous!" he cries. Brandon commences to question her about the school until she tells him to go play.
Having completed the task of organizing her son's room, she goes to help Laura unpack her things. The first thing Laura says when her mother walks in is, "Can we talk now?"
Sydney sighs, then sits on the bed and directs Laura to do the same.
"I want to know about Daddy," she says instantly. "Why can't I talk about him? Why didn't he come when we left LA? Why did we change our name?…"
"Whoa. One question at a time." She is silent for a moment, deciding what to say.
"Someone threatened us. It was, in a way, because of your father, and I thought at the time that I had to get away from him to keep you and your brother safe. I thought the only way to keep you safe was to run away," she explains.
"Did Daddy do something wrong? Was he in trouble? Was he a criminal?" she cries, alarmed.
"No, no baby. Your Daddy was a good man." She pauses. "He was in the CIA. The criminals were threatening us." In actuality, it had been Sloane. But if she told Laura that, she'd have to tell her about her own involvement in the agency, and she wasn't ready for that yet.
"Daddy was a…a secret agent? But he worked at a bank!" Laura protests.
"That was his cover, honey. Your dad and I learned the hard way that it's not smart to tell people things like this," Sydney says, thinking of Danny.
"So…They threatened us, and then you found out he was an agent, and you left?" Laura asks, trying to understand.
"No, I knew about that a long time before that. I left because I didn't think you were safe there anymore," Sydney says. Her voice shakes slightly, but not so much so that Laura doesn't notice.
"Are you sorry? That you left, I mean?"
"Sometimes. But other times, I think, you might have been hurt if I'd stayed. And I don't want that, so I feel like I had to leave. I miss him, yes."
"If you miss him and we're this close, why don't you go see him?"
"You remember living in LA?"
"Yeah. Of course."
"But you were so little…"
"I was seven. Practically grown up," Laura quotes with a smile.
"Okay. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I remembered being that young."
"What did you remember?"
The innocent question makes Sydney's blood run cold. She can't tell Laura about Project Christmas, but she refuses to lie to her daughter.
"That was right after my mother died," Sydney says instead.
"What was her name?"
Sydney almost gives her mothers real name, but gives her alias instead.
"Laura Bristow."
"Am I named after her?"
"Yes. You are named after the mother I lost when I was six years old," she emphasizes, hoping Laura will remember this if she ever discovers that her grandmother is Irina Derevko. Laura gives her a strange look, noting her mother's tone.
"Mom? How *did* you find out Daddy was an agent?"
Strike Three.
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So, what do you think so far? I hope it's not going to be too weird, telling part of the story in first person and the rest in third…
Anyway, tell me what you think! Constructive criticism welcomed!
A/N: To read this story, you might want to go read chapters 13 through the end of my other story, The Telling Told. It's based on some stuff that I put in there, but you can understand this without reading it, I think. What it basically comes down to is whether you know what happened to Laura when she was a baby or not. If you do go back and read my other story, you may have to back as far as chapter 8 to make sense of it, or you may not.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
I am Laura Emily Vaughn. I sit quietly in my plane seat, watching my younger brother, Brandon Daniel Vaughn. He's scribbling on a sheet of paper. We are moving. Again.
My mother woke us early this morning so we could finish our packing. Even though we've been planning the move for a week, I haven't been allowed to tell anyone, so I couldn't have missed the whole week of school to pack. Six-year-old Brandon was kept home from his kindergarten class this week, and I know my mother told his teacher he had chicken pox.
He's almost the same age I was the first time.
*******FLASHBACK*******
"Mommy, why are you putting my toys in that box?"
"We're going away," Mommy says.
"Like a vacation?"
"Almost."
"Where's Daddy? Isn't he coming?"
"No, Sweetie, Daddy isn't coming. He has to stay here."
"Is Brandon staying too? He cries too much, he's too little."
"Brandon is coming. Now be a good girl and finish putting your toys in here, okay? You're seven, practically grown up."
*******END*******
I didn't get to say good-bye to Daddy. I wasn't awake when he got up to leave for his job at the bank. I was in bed when he got home the night before.
Brandon doesn't even remember Daddy. He was too little.
I remember him. He would always play with me when he was home. He went on trips for the bank a lot, so there were times when he wasn't home.
I wasn't allowed to tell anybody good-bye, like every other time. I won't be able to talk to them later, either.
Mom told me when I was only seven that I could never mention Daddy to Brandon, and I could never tell anyone Grandpa's name, and I could never tell anyone that my name used to be Laura Vaughn.
I'm Laura Jones to the world. I have been since I was seven. Brandon is Brandon Jones. And Mom is Sydney Jones.
"Mom, where are we going this time?" I ask.
"California," she replies.
That's where we *used* to live! In LA!
"Are we going home? Are we going to see Daddy?" I ask, excited now.
"No. I've told you about mentioning your father!" Mom says sharply.
"Sorry, Mommy." It is a phrase I've used since I was seven, every time I mention something or someone I'm not supposed to. I always sound so little when I say it.
"Mom, why do we keep moving?" This is our fifth move since the first one.
"Someday, I'll tell you, Laura, but not now. I know you think you're grown up at thirteen, but you've got a long way to go," Mom teases.
"When, Mom? I'm old enough to hear some of it, I'm sure. If you don't tell me, I'll find out on my own," I threaten.
"Not here," she says, looking around the crowded plane. I know she hopes I don't notice, but I do. "We'll talk about it when we get to the house," she promises.
"But Mom…"
"Laura, I will, I promise. But Brandon doesn't need to know any of this."
"Okay," I relent.
I take one of Brandon's coloring books and start coloring a picture of one of the Ninja Turtles.
"Hey!" he cries. "That's Michael Angelo! His headband isn't Pink!"
"I don't care. It is now."
"Mommy!"
Why does he have to drag Mom into this?
"Brandon, it doesn't really matter. May be Michael Angelo got tired of…the same old color," Mom says, realizing she doesn't know what color his headband is supposed to be.
I laugh softly.
"What?" Mom asks, hearing me anyway.
"Mom, what color *is* his headband?" I can't help it. Mom makes it so easy some times.
She throws one of those little airplane packets of peanuts at me.
"Are we there yet?" Brandon whines. He's tired quickly of his coloring books, and they've been thrown on the floor.
"Soon, baby," Mom says, giving him a picture book to look at.
"How long?" I ask quietly.
"An hour," she mumbles.
I pull out my CD player and choose a particularly loud Dixie Chicks CD.
******************************************************************************************
Sydney pulls into the driveway of the little house in the rented BMW that Laura likes so much. She makes sure to inform her that their sedan will be there tomorrow.
The house is less than an hour from LA, but that is why it is the last place anyone expects to find her. Michael, as she'd finally become accustomed to calling him after Laura's homecoming, would never think to look for her here.
Sydney notices that Laura seems more upset by this move than by the others. She is afraid to tell her daughter too much about her past life, but she has to tell her something. She won't lie to her daughter. She's sure Laura's first question will be about her father.
As she forces Brandon to help unpack his clothes, she worries about what Brandon heard his sister say.
"Why did we have to move?" he asks suddenly.
"Mommy got a new job. I'm going to be a teacher at *your* school," she says, hoping to deter any further questions. It works.
"Wow! Really! That's so cool! Everyone will be so jealous!" he cries. Brandon commences to question her about the school until she tells him to go play.
Having completed the task of organizing her son's room, she goes to help Laura unpack her things. The first thing Laura says when her mother walks in is, "Can we talk now?"
Sydney sighs, then sits on the bed and directs Laura to do the same.
"I want to know about Daddy," she says instantly. "Why can't I talk about him? Why didn't he come when we left LA? Why did we change our name?…"
"Whoa. One question at a time." She is silent for a moment, deciding what to say.
"Someone threatened us. It was, in a way, because of your father, and I thought at the time that I had to get away from him to keep you and your brother safe. I thought the only way to keep you safe was to run away," she explains.
"Did Daddy do something wrong? Was he in trouble? Was he a criminal?" she cries, alarmed.
"No, no baby. Your Daddy was a good man." She pauses. "He was in the CIA. The criminals were threatening us." In actuality, it had been Sloane. But if she told Laura that, she'd have to tell her about her own involvement in the agency, and she wasn't ready for that yet.
"Daddy was a…a secret agent? But he worked at a bank!" Laura protests.
"That was his cover, honey. Your dad and I learned the hard way that it's not smart to tell people things like this," Sydney says, thinking of Danny.
"So…They threatened us, and then you found out he was an agent, and you left?" Laura asks, trying to understand.
"No, I knew about that a long time before that. I left because I didn't think you were safe there anymore," Sydney says. Her voice shakes slightly, but not so much so that Laura doesn't notice.
"Are you sorry? That you left, I mean?"
"Sometimes. But other times, I think, you might have been hurt if I'd stayed. And I don't want that, so I feel like I had to leave. I miss him, yes."
"If you miss him and we're this close, why don't you go see him?"
"You remember living in LA?"
"Yeah. Of course."
"But you were so little…"
"I was seven. Practically grown up," Laura quotes with a smile.
"Okay. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I remembered being that young."
"What did you remember?"
The innocent question makes Sydney's blood run cold. She can't tell Laura about Project Christmas, but she refuses to lie to her daughter.
"That was right after my mother died," Sydney says instead.
"What was her name?"
Sydney almost gives her mothers real name, but gives her alias instead.
"Laura Bristow."
"Am I named after her?"
"Yes. You are named after the mother I lost when I was six years old," she emphasizes, hoping Laura will remember this if she ever discovers that her grandmother is Irina Derevko. Laura gives her a strange look, noting her mother's tone.
"Mom? How *did* you find out Daddy was an agent?"
Strike Three.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
So, what do you think so far? I hope it's not going to be too weird, telling part of the story in first person and the rest in third…
Anyway, tell me what you think! Constructive criticism welcomed!