A/N: artemis shows up in ch3. the first two chapters are an introduction to my character reddler croft.

Departure

"Wake up, kiddo. I want you to meet someone," said Mr. Croft, gentling shaking his thirteen -year-old daughter.

"Mmm-hmmm..." mumbled the curled mass on the pillow, pulling the covers up over her head.

"Hey, kiddo. Kiddo? Come on now, be a sport."

No reply.

Mr. Croft sighed, crouched down and easily lifted the mumbling, muttering mass from the bed. The covers were still on her head, although she was forced into a sitting position. He gently lifted the covers and stroked the dark burgundy hair, smoothing out the unruly quills.

Very slowly, annoyed blue eyes opened.

"Dad, it's a Sunday. Gimme a break." She started for the pillows again, but this time she was bodily lifted and placed on the carpet.

"Oh no, you don't," said Mr. Croft, laughing." Put on your slippers and come down to the hall. There's someone I want you to meet."

He turned to leave. "Right now, kiddo."

His daughter rubbed her eyes and groped the floor for her slippers, but could find only one of them. She put on her sneakers instead, and laces trailing, she followed her father downstairs, yawning.

Even before she reached the hall, she could make out the silhouette of a man appreciating the latest addition to her father's Monet collection. As she neared him, her first thought was: oh, god. Is he tall.

Mr. Croft called out to him, and he turned around. He must be…what, a six-foot-six?

He was lean, but elegantly dressed in Armani, and had a military air. His fine-toned crew cut made him seem like he was almost bald.

"Kiddo, I would like you to meet an old friend of mine. This is Jeffrey Martin." said Mr. Croft, his hand on Jeffery's shoulder. "And Jeff, this is my private angel, Reddler."

Jeffrey Martin's cool brown eyes pierced into hers. He gave a small nod.

Reddler noticed that he wore driving gloves.

Quickly noticing that her silence would be considered awkward, Reddler smiled. Jeffrey remained silent.

"OK, kiddo. You've done your bit. Go get dressed. I'll tell Helga to get breakfast started." Mr. Croft turned to the kitchen, and Jeffrey silently followed.

Reddler stood there, her heart pounding. Jeffrey Martin was one of the weirdest people she had ever met. The moment his intense brown eyes met hers, she could feel him reading her mind like a book. And that was the last thing she needed right then.

Especially after what had happened to her in Ireland.

Half an hour later, Reddler came back to the kitchen, freshly washed and dressed. She had on a crisp white shirt and ecru pants. The 'Classic Reddler' look, as her friend Dan Blandish put it. She poured herself a glass of juice and stood near the French windows of their enormous kitchen.

"So, where's Jeffrey?" she asked, taking a small sip.

Mr. Croft looked up from his paper and shrugged.

"He had to 'pick up a few things'. His words."

Reddler opened the window and the cool morning breeze wafted in, bringing with it the smell of the woods.

"What's the big deal about him anyway?" said Reddler, looking out of the window.

Mr. Croft sighed.

"He's going to look after you when I'm gone."

Reddler looked down at her juice. She had been expecting that. Her father was a geologist. One of the very best. His expeditions carried him all over the world—the Caucasus, Bolivia, Patagonia, the Seychelles—to name a few. He was gone for days, even months at a stretch.

His latest stint would be on a top-secret location in Siberia.

For three entire years.

Reddler watched the drops of moisture on the glass in her hand.

"Dad, don't go…"she said softly. "Forget this entire thing. Let's just go back to Montréal. This is too…complicated."

Mr. Croft sighed again. They had been over this a dozen times.

Marcus Croft had been a freelance geologist back in Montréal. Then came the big break. A huge multinational company got wind of his impressive credits, and invited him over to their R&D department. By virtue of his expertise, he was quickly hoisted to their bureau of top-notch scientists.

After his rapid promotion, he bought an enormous estate in the New Jersey suburbs, complete with a nineteenth-century chateau, golf greens and a quiet little pier.

The funding was so massive; it seemed unbelievable at the time, if not stupid.

A few years later, he quit his job and with his private funds, started his own company. He gave it a soppy, inconspicuous name- GRI or Geological Research for Industries, and threw his expertise in geology into full swing.

They specialized in almost every other thing, from coal mines to offshore oil rigs, from diamond polishing techniques to heavy metal industries. His company began expanding on a stupendous scale. His former employers staked out an alliance, urging him to combine their efforts with his.

When you've got a contract for fifteen billion dollars under your nose, it's a little hard to resist.

Never in his wildest dreams did Marcus Croft ever think a geologist would be a billionaire. It's idiotic, he had thought.

Now that he was a billionaire, he still thought the same.

But although he hadn't given it much thought at the time, he paid a heavy price for his rise to glory.

His family.

His wife had been dead for years. She had died almost a month after Reddler was born.

And in the years that Reddler grew up, Marcus Croft tumbled upon stroke after lucky stroke.

He doted on his pretty little daughter. His lucky mascot, as he called her. He gave her the best of clothes, books…whatever she wanted. But lately he was so wrapped up in his work; he couldn't give her the one thing she wanted most—his time.

And at times like these, when she looked at him with sad eyes and begged him to stay, he was overcome with guilt.

"I have to go, kiddo. You know how it works." He paused. "Come here, though. I want to tell you something important."

Reddler went over and sat on the counter top, her legs dangling.

"Listen carefully. When I'm gone, Jeffrey will look after you. But let's make one thing clear—he's not your butler, he's your guardian."

"Why don't you just say 'substitute father'?"

"It's hard, I know. But I can't leave you alone in this huge house."

"So you're throwing in a babysitter? I can take care of myself!" she stated indignantly, eyes flashing.

"Jeffrey is not a babysitter," went on Mr. Croft in a calm tone. "And don't get me started on what happens when you're left to look after yourself."

In spite of her anger, Reddler could not hold back a snicker. When Mr. Croft had been away for a few weeks, he had left Reddler, then nine, with a housekeeper. Reddler had rebelled outright. One week later, Mr. Croft received a call from the poor woman, almost in tears, who said that she was quitting as she felt that a few psychotherapy sessions would do her good.

"Jeffrey is my friend, kiddo. I want you to respect him as if he were me," Mr. Croft emphasized his words as best as he could.

He's not you, thought Reddler. She half wanted to voice it out loud, but instead, asked: "Dad, who exactly is Jeffrey? I mean, doesn't he have a job or something?"

"Well, he's ex-foreign legion, ex-navy…I suppose. But I do know that he used to spearhead almost all the search and rescue operations of his battalion. Heaven knows what he's doing right now—says it's classified—but he must be employed by someone big. Really big. He's on a year-long paid vacation."

"Paid vacation?" said Reddler. Whew, whoever's employing him must be dipping in the big bucks.

"Anyway, that's what he told me."

Reddler shook her head. "Whoa, whoa, wait…how come this gun-trotting military guy agreed to climb down and be a housekeeper?"

"He's not a housekeeper," stated Mr. Croft, ignoring Reddler rolling her eyes. "He said that a year of relaxation would almost be unbearable for him. All he wants is to get away from his work, but not the excitement. What with you and those queer field trips of yours…to goodness knows where, I figured that it isn't all nice and quiet here. So I invited him here."

Reddler chuckled. "You really think he can handle me?"

"He's better than an electrified fence."

"Is he now?" said Reddler, easing herself off the counter.

Mr. Croft squinted at her. "I'm serious."

Two days later, as Reddler sat in the airport lounge watching her father shake hands with Jeffrey; she wondered what was so special about him that he shouldn't be fooled around with. Most of her life Reddler had got her own way, mostly because there were so few people standing between her and what she wanted. But now, as she watched this tall, calm stranger, she seriously doubted herself.

She snapped back to the present when someone touched her lightly on the shoulder. She heard a soft ding and the announcer's incomprehensible voice. Mr. Croft smiled at her, taking his day-bag which Reddler had been holding for him.

"That'll be my flight, I guess."

"And you're still going." Again, that heartbreaking voice and sad eyes.

"Cheer up, kiddo. I don't want this horrendous face haunting my dreams. How about a tiny smile?" he said, laughing.

Reddler smiled, but somehow that made her looked even sadder than before. She hoped she wasn't going to cry. After all, this was the last she would see or hear of him for three years. No e-mail, no calls, because they didn't want any traces on this project. Damned bureaucracy.

What if he died in this expedition in two months? She'd hear about it only after three years. Reddler choked on this thought.

She hugged her father. Mr. Croft kissed the top of her head, and turned to leave.

"You'll see me after three years," she said softly, as he walked away.

"Then I'll be happy," he replied.

"I'll be sixteen," she said, and gave a shaky wave.

Reddler watched the plane take off, her fingers clutching the fence warmed by the sun. She suddenly became aware of a presence behind her. She slowly turned around. Jeffrey Martin stood by the car, with an impatient look in his eyes.

Oboy, thought Reddler, as she walked to him, her jacket flapping in the wind. Why was this guy so…prim? He was so neat and affected in his manner that she suddenly felt very untidy and out of place. She had done her best to do her hair as neatly as she could, but the wind had screwed it up. She unconsciously ran a hand through the burgundy strands, trying to smooth them into place.

Burgundy hair that glowed red in the sun.

His voice. Reddler felt like she was choking. Not now, she thought, forcing a deep breath. Quick black and white flashes of Ireland scenery whipped by. She felt very faint.

"Are you all right? You look ill," said a voice.

Reddler jumped, her heart doing a double take.

Jeffrey Martin watched her as she stood by the fence. Slowly, she turned to face him. Jeffrey frowned.

He had been watching her closely for the past two days, and her face troubled him. Actually, he had felt it the very first moment he met her. He smothered back a smile, remembering the sleepy, dark-haired girl in her pajamas, obviously annoyed at being woken up so suddenly. But when he met her eyes, he was taken aback. Behind the annoyance and surprise, there was …sadness. Real sadness. And it was always there, even when she was smiling. It was undeniable. He had felt it only too often in his career.

In trauma victims.

In airplane crash survivors, in kidnapped hostages, homicide witnesses.

He wondered what had happened to her. He watched her lazily sift a hand through her hair.

Suddenly, she froze. Her expression changed rapidly and her face contorted.

He quickly walked towards her, but she didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were blank, and the dark quills falling over them didn't bother her.

Jeffrey looked at her closely. She looked very pale.

"Are you all right? You look ill," he said quietly.

She snapped back to reality, almost jumping. Staring at the concrete below, she wordlessly moved to the car.

He could almost see the emotional scars trailing in her wake as his eyes astutely followed her movements.

He felt a bit sorry as he sat down in the car and revved the engine. Reddler sat next to him, her head leaning on window.

Jeffrey drove out to the freeway.

She's so young…

Reddler took deep breaths, resting her warm forehead on the window. She looked at Jeffrey's reflection on the glass, and although he wasn't looking at her, she knew that he was watching her.

Does he know? No, that's impossible…

She straightened up, adjusting the seat belt.

"So, where are you from?" Her voice was even. Will he even consider listening to me?

After a moment's thought, he answered in the same, even tone.

"I travel a lot. My work carries me to different places."

"Ok...Where were you before you came here?"

Jeffrey glanced at her. "Mostly Europe…I was in Tuscany."

"Tuscany…" mused Reddler, chewing her lip. "It must be beautiful."

"Dangerous, too, if you're careless enough to let your guard down." His tone meant business. Reddler wondered what she should talk about next, when he interrupted her thoughts.

"You'll be having school tomorrow, I suppose."

She raised a brow. "I don't go to school," she said.

"You don't?" he said, in an amused voice.

"Well, you can't really call it a school, it's a…institution," she paused. "I'm in Symbiosis."

Jeffrey's amused smile vanished, and he frowned.

"You work for Richard Brent?"

Reddler snorted. "I don't work for him. I…learn stuff, I guess." Seeing his frown deepen, she turned to him and said in a brighter tone. "It's not that bad. Most of the stuff they teach us is really cool."

"It's a dangerous place."

"That contributes to the fun…I guess I like recklessness."

"Not recklessness. That's foolishness," he said simply.

Reddler pursed up her mouth, and said nothing. She knew, deep down, that his words were true. The Ireland heist had been reckless, she had thought. But it was foolish nonetheless. She had narrowed escaped with her life, but had left her sanity behind. She wondered if telling Jeffrey about Symbiosis was foolish. She hardly had any faith in her judgment lately.

She had left that behind in Ireland as well.

Knowing that thirteen-year-old Reddler was affiliated to Symbiosis told Jeffrey two things. One, she had to be incredibly intelligent. Two, she had no idea of the danger what she was putting herself in.

He had little doubt over the first one. He had observed her astute behavior with an eagle eye, and knew that her pretty face hid a remarkable brain. He could see through her cover-up without much effort.

But he doubted the second one. Her face told him that she had been through a lot. So she might have a vague idea of the trouble that being tangled up in Symbiosis brought.

"He's a dangerous man," he said quietly.

"Brent's not that bad," said Reddler, mildly surprised.

There was a long silence.

"I'm not talking about him," said Jeffrey.

Reddler nodded slowly. She knew exactly what he meant.