THE BURNER

An In Plain Sight/The Vampire Diaries Fanfiction

I own no part of The Vampire Diaries or In Plain Sight.

This story begins at the start of the Vampire Diaries Season Two, but really skips a lot of what happens. Klaus and others will be involved, but this story will follow "Narcissa", a mute nihilist having spent her formative years in WITSEC. What happens when everything she believes she is is proven to be a lie, and she is forced to open up her cold, lifeless heart?

Chapter One - Emancipated

They tell me my name is Narcissa. I don't have a regular last name – and by that, I mean one given to me by my parents. My last names are given to me every six years by Witness Protection. I often wonder if my first name was given to me by WITSEC.

Not many people can claim to have spent their lives under the thumb of Federal Witness Protection. Most people come in after seeing a crime, or criminals trying to rat out fish that are bigger than them. I, on the other hand, have another story…one much different.

Mary Shannon, the only woman that I have ever loved strongly enough to call my mother, tells me that the story goes something like this: My father, an English occultist and a chemist, was studying something in a secret underground lab (she couldn't tell me where it was; classified information) that the Albanian mob wanted…and they wanted it bad enough to kill him over it. When they didn't find what he had been studying in his lab, they went after pregnant, soon-to-be-in-labor wife, a fellow Albanian. She did what she could, and her physician tried to fight them off…but it didn't end well. Thinking that I, the baby, was dead, they left me. I, still barely alive, plunged into this world an orphan, tended to by Albanian cops.

Knowing that I would not survive in Albania, the police secreted me, a silver-haired baby…off to the United States of America. The police then said I was dead, and falsified my papers – which means I should be an illegal alien. I tried to do the right thing in getting my citizenship, but that almost got me located for the second time, (read: killed) by the Albanian mob, so I had to drop that.

Ever since being slipped into the United States, I have been bounced around like a ping-pong ball from family to family, most of them not knowing what to do with me because I am mute and part of WITSEC. That's right – in my entire life, I have never spoken a single word. Not even so much as a sound has ever left my mouth. It makes people think I am dumb, but I know sign language and I let them think what they want – I never lasted longer than a few months with any of the families, most of them so worried about themselves that they dropped me as soon as the words "Albanian mob" left a WITSEC agent's mouth.

Finally, at age sixteen and fed up with the constant chaos, I asked Mary to help me get emancipated minor status. She didn't like it – said I needed a family and I needed to finish school – but I told her, in writing, that I had made up my mind. That's one of the advantages of mutism – you can choose to either sign in ASL or write, and either one you choose seems to carry lots of weight. I stick to signing when I deal with everyday life, but I write down the vast majority of what I tell Mary. Mary is my mother – one of only two people in the world I care about.

"I will finish school," I had said in the follow-up letter I wrote her. "School is not the issue. This whole family thing is what is pissing me off. There is nobody out there who wants to be my family – nobody, that is, except you, Stan, and Marcus. I am tired of switching schools and homes…being bounced around in the hopes that maybe some Albanian might stand trial someday for murdering people I don't even know. I know I have told you that I am a nihilist – but I need some stability now. I want a place to call my own…if only for a moment."

I remember the look on Mary's face when she read the letter – a lot of aggravation, but a sense of understanding. She often came to me to vent her personal troubles with her mom and sister, and I didn't mind. The blonde, tough-as-nails Marshall often called me "her favorite witness," remembered my birthday, and always told me I would make an excellent shrink – even though I prefer electrical work, carpentry, and working on old cars.

"Narcissa," she had told me in her Albuquerque office – she would always have me come to New Mexico for the week of my birthday, August 19th – "you've really thought this out, didn't you? You're ready to give up childhood, aren't you?"

"Mary," I signed. "I tried it…for you. But…I am tired of running around and putting people in danger, existential nihilist or not. I am sick of running from the Mob…running, hiding, lying…the whole bit. I want a place to live, not just survive until the next move…even if I have to make it on my own. If this is what childhood is…I hate it."

Mary nodded. "I…I get it. If I didn't have my mom and Brandy, I'd do it too. But…that's not going to change the fact you are still in the program. You have about twenty states you can't live in. You've been an excellent member of the program…although I still don't like the fact that your sixteen and you own more pistols than shoes, and enough knives to make a serial killer jealous."

I smiled and flapped my hands – my signal that I was laughing. In one of the five suitcases that had followed me in my sixteen years (one so large I had Marcus carry it), I had a cache of weapons. The Feds didn't like it much, but it had saved my life on two occasions (one mob-related, the other on my thirteenth birthday with Mary in the car), so it stayed.

Mary laughed with me. "Okay, I'll start your paperwork, put out a good word for you and see if I can't get you a work permit. It'll be your sixteenth birthday present. I know it's not a car, but I couldn't find you your 1973 Oldsmobile."

I flapped my hands again.

Two weeks later, I was in Mary's car, a new flip phone in hand, as Mystic Falls, Virginia came into view. "Welcome home, Cissy," she said, tousling my silver curls. She had told me that I looked like an ancient queen from a bygone time, with sharp silver eyes, sharp nose, creamy white skin, and a strong jawline. My skin, however, was usually stained with oil or covered in dust, and eternities forbid I wear a dress. "I'm proud of you."

"I told you school wasn't an issue – they're all the same, just different faces," I signed back. "Beside, Marcus suggested this place for the tech school, so I really just need to take another year…and I'll be living my dreams."

"Automotive program?"

"No. I can't stand these modern cars – pretty soon, you'll need an IT guy to fix them. I…I need older things. Things that are old…I require something that needs my own two hands. I…I am going to see if I like carpentry or electricity more."

Mary smiled. "I think…electrician will give you a better chance at a job. Both are good…but you'll need the money."

"And the second occupation, in case this all goes to hell again."

Mary nodded as we turned down a dirt road…to the most wonderful little house trailer I had ever seen. As a young girl…let's just say I am not very girly. I am drawn to house trailers over palaces, old vehicles to carriages, and woodcarving to makeup. I think…that's what Mary likes about me. We, even though neither one of us admits to it, understand each other. We trust each other…even though Mary Shannon trusts almost no one.

"I remember the day I first met you," Mary said calmly. "It was…just after I first started in Witness Protection – you were a small child, three years old, in a day care. All the other kids were busy playing with their toys…and you were sitting there with your speech cards on the floor, all alone. You still had that pretty long hair…and I sat down on the floor with you. I…told you who I was…and then, you asked me a question. Do you remember what it was?"

"No."

"Are you…coming to take me home?" Mary finished. "Back then, I told you I wasn't. But…I think its time for me to say that my answer is yes. This…so long as you don't screw up or have any more medical problems…is your home from now on. Life…from now on, is truly going to be what you make it. It doesn't get rid of the Mob…but…"

"They can come for me if they want," I replied. "They know me…I know them. I have always been pretty sure I will die like the parents I never had…but, if they come for me…I will make sure they remember my name on the way out."

Mary nodded. "Come on, let's get you moved in…I see a great big garage…perfect for your workshop and your car!"