Ok, I'm in way over my head, but I have to write on this one before it runs out of my head… it's a big long involved one, but hopefully well worth it. Just a warning: I'm taking a lot of liberties with their history, but that's kind of the whole point of this storm…
I'm going to permanently ditch "Journals", and finish up "Where Are You?" and "We Named the Dog Indiana." Bear with me… it should be a fruitful summer…
Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with CI, though I wish I could at least own Bobby…
Chapter 1An 18 year old Alexandra Eames was sitting on the wooden floor, reading a book. She kept periodically changing positions, trying to get comfortable so she could read her book.
Hours and half a dozen positions later she heard the garage door open and the sounds of her father and several of his friends from work came echoing down the hallway. She immediately jumped up, dropped her book on the floor, and ran running down the hallway to the mudroom.
Alex lived in comfort… really, really good comfort. She was in a large, dark wooden house about half an hour outside the edge of New York City, where her Dad worked as a cop. They were by no means rich, though. The house was a family heirloom that came with no money ("What the hell?" was her mother's reaction when she found out), and the only help they could afford was a gardener.
He was a poor, hapless, and often drunk man that was in way over his head. The yard was expansive and there was an actual hedge maze that was in the back. It was small, but still plenty big enough to be a hassle. Alex's mother, Anita, complained everyday that she was "this close" to ripping the whole yard up and putting in astro-turf.
So, never-the-less, the garden looked like it had a drunk looking after it (which it did), and the house itself was kind of like a smallish, dark wood, looming manor in the New York countryside, though the light pollution of the city reached the night above it.
"Daddy!" she shouted as she flung herself onto him.
"Hey, Alex- How's my girl?" he asked, releasing her.
"Stiff," she said, rubbing her lower back.
"Hey, Alex," said the man standing next to her father.
"Mike," she said slickly, holding out his hand, sliding it past his and then butting fists. "John, Dan…Larry," she said slyly, giving them all the slide and butt with her hand. "You guys here for dinner?" she asked.
"Yep- gonna catch some TV with your old man and have a couple beers," Dan answered.
"Sweet- Daddy, can I have a beer?" she ask innocently.
"Not a chance, sweetie," he answered just as sweetly.
"Damn," she said.
"Alex! Come help me and Ursula with dinner!" Came her mother's cry from the kitchen.
"Later loosers," she said as she bolted down the hallway towards the kitchen.
Her dad shook her head as he watched her run in the opposite direction. "She acts like she's 3 sometimes…"
"She's Daddy's little girl, that's for sure," said Mike as he and the rest of the men made their way towards the den.
Alex, her mother, and her sister Ursula came into the living room bringing handfuls of plates of fried chicken and a 6 pack of beer.
"Ah, Servants," Mike joked as he took a plate and a can of beer from Alex. She stuck her tongue out at him.
When they were all settled on the sofas and chairs Alex asked. "So, what did you do at work, today, Daddy?"
"Nothing exciting, sweetie, I promise."
"Yah right- I know what you guys do all day, waving your pieces around to compensate for the fact that you're not hung like horses-"
"Alex!" her mother scolded.
Mike, Dan, John and Larry were in fits of laughter. "You just wait, Alex. It'll soon be time for you to wave your piece around simply because you've not got one at all," John said through his almost uncontainable laughter.
"See?" Alex asked her mom, smiling with victory.
"That's nothing exciting, Alex, trust me."
She ignored her mother's remark. "Come on Daddy- you had to have done something cool. Who was your idiot of the day?"
At this, her father smiled. The guys all gave each other knowing looks. "He was mine, today," Mike chimed up. "Big fat fellow- tried to rob a news-stand, but the clerk tripped him. Rolled like the Pillsbury Doughboy for almost 10 feet. Then got up and tried to go back for more…"
"Oh," John interrupted. "But that wasn't nearly as good as that one chica who tried to…"
They continued to laugh, drink, and tell stupid criminal jokes into the night. Alex managed to snag a 6-pack of beers un-noticed (several packs had been opened and everyone had lost count by then) and after her dad's co-workers had left for the evening, she grabbed the pack and headed off into the back yard to the hedge maze to drink her prize.
She was sitting in the very center, next to the raggedy little fountain and coy pond, when Randy, the gardener came wandering up.
"Ah, Randy," she said, holding up a can of beer. "Here, managed to snag a few." She held out an unopened can for him. He took it with a word of thanks. "So, how's it been going? I haven't been out here in a while. I think the maze has changed pattern, you've let it grow over so badly."
"Sorry," he said roughly.
"Eh, it's not that big of a deal," she said through the breath of her third beer. "Anything else good going on?"
"Not really. Son's coming back from a stint in the army- should be here a couple of weeks."
"Good Lord, Goren- I didn't know you had a son! You never say a damn word to me… What's he like- I bet he's cute if he's got your genes." She bumped her shoulder to his.
Randy Goren was unmoved. He was far past being giddy when he was drunk. He had passed that age quite some time ago and was now just an unmoved, depressed drunk. "He's 22, uh… some special unit- nothing to do with fighting, uhm… CIU, I think…"
"What's CTU? Uh, CIU, sorry…" She hiccupped.
"Something like an Army cop… I don't know..." he said, and it sounded like he wasn't all that interested either. He took another swig of his beer, emptying the can. "Thanks for the drink." He set the empty can on the bench, got up, and left.
"What's his name?" Alex called after him, but her words were either unheard or simply not acknowledged.