GOING HOME
Author: Cover Girl
Rating: PG-13
Chapter 1/?
Disclaimers: GI Joe and Cobra are the property of Hasbro, Marvel, Sunbow, and Devils Due Publishing. This is purely fiction. Please read and review, flames will only lead to 'smores
Author's Note: Thanks to Annie O, Roguedoll, and Beck for reading this for me. This is a rewrite of a work in progress. I took some time off from writing and came back to it with a fresh eye and a need to develop more of the plot.
Chapter One The Runaway Bride
"This is a disaster," Alison mumbled to herself, unable to shake the feeling that this was not going to be the happiest day of her life. Her eyes drifted to the heavy, ornately carved mahogany mirror standing across from her, wondering, "Why?" even though she already knew the answer.
"Mademoiselle, please?" Alison felt the seamstress' hands, guiding her waist to turn from behind and complied but not before looking back at herself in the mirror. She was reminded of the importance of this marriage right down to the last minute detail. Her mother had made sure that everything, including the gown, was handled to perfection. The gown itself had been designed as a one of a kind original. A white, duchess, satin gown with its fitted bodice carefully embroidered with pearls overtop lace; the fitted sleeves were slightly off the shoulders and the full skirt of the gown delicately embroidered as well. Her mother had allowed Alison's request not to have a train dragging along after her. She wanted her daughter's beauty to shine through to all in attendance.
Alison's long auburn hair was done up in a French twist accented with a few diamond and pearl studded hairpins to hold it in place. A few tendrils had been carefully loosened and curled to frame her face; her make-up meticulously, yet, lightly applied for a natural effect with just a touch of color added. The effect was simply stunning. Absent-mindedly, she smoothed the folds of her gown with nervous hands. "Why?" echoed in her mind once more.
She watched her bridesmaids fussing over each other's gowns. Each bridesmaid wore a soft lilac chiffon gown with the short cap sleeves resting off their shoulders, their only jewelry, a single strand of pearls as her gift to each. She smiled sadly and shook her head. She had to put a stop to this. She had to.
"All of you look beautiful." She heard her mother's voice and looked towards the doorway. Dressed in a cream gown with a shawl collar, Ellen Hart-Burnett stood poised, almost regal, looking onward to the young women with her warm brown eyes, a striking contrast to her daughter's cool green. Alison watched her mother reach up with her fingers and pat her own auburn hair back into place, a sure give away that her mother was also nervous. Could she sway her mother's mind? Could she put a stop to this, now?
"Excuse me," she said, pushing past Melissa, her maid of honor. "Mother?"
The other women stopped what they were doing, curiosity urging their undivided attention. Ellen raised a dismissive brow towards the others in the room, willing them to fall back and remain silent.
"Alison, you look exquisite." Her mother replied, carefully studying her before turning back to the others in the room. "Could you, please, excuse us?" She commanded more than requested with her chin held high, nodding towards the door. Pausing until the last bridesmaid had exited the room, she walked to the vanity, lifting Alison's short bridal veil from the table. "Alison," she chided her gently, "you shouldn't simply toss this to the side. What's the matter, dear?" Ellen gingerly coifed the veil, arranging it as it fell in her hands. "Sit down." She waved her free hand over in a roll, gesturing towards the vanity's bench.
"I can't go through with this, mother," Alison cried, taking her seat.
"Tsk...tsk...it's a simple case of last minute jitters," her mother reassured her, lifting the veil up to pin in her hair.
Alison closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts. "I don't love him. You know I don't love him." She slowly opened her eyes to see her mother's pursed lips and instinctively braced for a lecture. The older woman relaxed her expression, turning her lips inward and releasing them along with a weary sigh.
"Now, Alison, you know how your father and I have planned for this day," Ellen started.
"You're not the one marrying him," Alison quickly interrupted. "I can't marry him." She abruptly stood from the vanity and walked towards the window where she pulled the edge of her drapes back to gaze out over the garden below, taking in the richness of the summer blooms below. She searched within for the strength to tell her mother she couldn't, no she wouldn't go through with the ceremony.
"Alison, this is a wonderful match. Don't be foolish." Ellen pleaded, resting her fingertips on her daughter's shoulders from behind.
Alison lowered her eyes and turned to face her mother. She was still searching. It wasn't an easy task to tell her mother 'no', not with her upbringing. Unable to find the words, she reluctantly nodded her head.
"That's my girl." Ellen smiled, placing her hand beneath her chin. "I'll send the others back to you. We must not keep the Shephards waiting."
She watched her mother cross the room towards the door as she found the words, ready to argue one last time and faltered. Her mother would never understand. "Mother?"
"Yes, dear?" Ellen paused, reaching for the door.
"I can finish dressing myself. Could I have a few moments, please?" She forced a smiled and stepped back to the window.
"Yes, of course." Ellen smiled and left, leaving her alone to her thoughts.
Alison pulled the drapes back and looked out past the garden to the sea beyond the garden's iron gates. The calm serenity of the sea pacified her. She could see sails in the distance and couldn't help but wish she was out there instead of here in her room, getting ready to marry him, her parent's choice, not her's. She found herself lost in her thoughts, recalling the events leading up to this moment. She laughed and dropped the drapes back into place before walking over to the mirror to study her appearance, all the while mocking herself. She raised her fingertips to her cheek, tracing them over her jaw while she searched for a valid reason.
"If only you'd put a stop to this that Christmas, you wouldn't be here now. Would you?" She asked her self and snarled. "Well?"
Christmas, Senior Year, Bryn Mawr
The party had been in full swing when her father had returned from his library with Nathan and Michael Shepard in tow. The three of them were laughing as her father slapped Michael on the shoulder and pulled him closer. It wasn't unusual to see the three of them together especially since Michael had just started working for her father in his New York office. The Shepards were usually found in attendance at her mother's parties and she'd grown up with Michael.
Jonathan Hart-Burnett had pulled her to the side, murmuring in her ear, "Alison, you know your mother and I have always looked to your best interests". Alison knew from experience that she was not going to like what was coming next. "You'll be graduating this summer. We thought it's about time you started to consider settling yourself down and helping your mother with her charity work."
"Dad, I told you before I want to go to Trinity and work on my masters. If this is about Michael again, the answer is still no. You've been shoving him at me since I was 17." She fumed, ready to walk away when her father replied. "Alison, your mother and I have always looked to your best interests. We believe Michael is best for you."
"Well I don't..."
"Alison, think of the family, besides most of the girls you went to school with are already engaged or married," he began.
"Dad, the family and the business are in great shape besides I don't want..."
"Alison, if I agree to let you go to Trinity, will you at least think about this?" He offered a compromise.
To get her father to drop the subject she relented. "Yes, I'll think about it."
If she had known what was to happen at the end of the evening, she never would have agreed. Jonathan and Ellen Hart-Burnett along with Nathan and Jessica Shepard called everyone's attention as they made their Christmas toasts to those at the party. Lifting his glass Jonathan toasted, "We would like to wish all of you a Merry Christmas, and would like for you to share our joy in announcing the engagement of our beautiful daughter, Alison, to Michael Shepard..."
Alison blanched unable to react as the shock settled in on her. She was oblivious to the guests clapping and cheering. Michael who had been standing near her came to join her, presenting a beautiful, flawless, 2-carat diamond solitaire. She found herself going through the motions while he slipped the ring on her finger. She some how managed to keep from flinching when Michael pulled her into a kiss to appease the taunts from the younger set. Crediting years of self-discipline, she suppressed her anger from the prying eyes of their guests. Her father had staged this well knowing she'd never embarrass the family in front of this gathering.
After the party, when all of the guests and the Shepards had left. Alison exploded. "How could you do this to me? I said I would think about this, I never agreed to..."
"You will do exactly as I tell you, Alison. Trust me, it's for the best." He dismissed any further discussion and turned away to pour himself a glass of brandy, leaving her frightfully aware that he was unwilling to listen.
That argument had been the first of many. She had even tried to send the ring back to Michael but her parents stopped the courier and placed the ring in their safe when she refused to wear it back to school. Alison returned to school to complete her Bachelors of Arts in Theater and Minor in International Studies before going off to Trinity as planned. She was so angry she didn't come home for the next two years and avoided Michael at every opportunity.
It was during this time that she met another master's candidate student by the name of Scott Mullens in her applied linguistics classes. Like her, he was another American studying abroad; however, unlike her, he was a CIA operative sent abroad to develop Intel sources and infiltrate a questionable student organization with alleged links to the IRA. When his supervisors learned that the Hart-Burnett heiress was also at Trinity, he was ordered to gain her confidence and keep an eye on her.
Initially, it seemed a strange twist of fate when she kept running into him outside of class. Only, now, could she laugh at the initial awkwardness of their first meeting. He had approached her in need of assistance with translating a Gaelic text assigned for one of their classes.
Scott and Alison struck up an easy friendship, talking about their different backgrounds. She learned that he had graduated with a Bachelor's in Political Science from Georgetown and wanted to join the State Department some day while he eagerly became a sounding board for her problems with Michael.
She wistfully smiled to herself as she recalled the night he suggested she become a linguist for the government.
"You know, Allie, you should seriously consider becoming a linguist for the government." Scott had joked one evening she had asked him for assistance by accompanying her to a formal dinner being thrown by an old family friend in London. The guest list had read like a 'who's who' of European society and he had watched in awe as she conversed with several other guests, easily switching languages and matching dialects. "Why if I didn't know, I'd have pegged you for a French national, or a Russian...then again with your talents you could fool any one in nine different countries." He had complimented her with a winked and offered her his arm as he led her onto the dance floor.
"Sure, Scott." She gave him a dismissive laugh as she slipped her arm through his. She was prepared to follow his lead when he stopped. He caught sight of two men he had been told would be present entering through the ball room's main doors and heading for the terrace. They were a plant to test her skills. The CIA had developed a keen interest in her talents from his observations. "Seriously, Alison, what could you tell me about those two characters?" He nodded to the pair over his shoulder as they passed.
"Scott, I'm not going to…"
"Just for fun. What are they speaking? Whatever it is, it looks interesting." He raised a quizzical eyebrow, challenging her. The taller of the two men was more animated, gesturing his hands wildly at times to emphasis a point while the shorter man appeared to have little interest in his arguments. They lingered by the terrace doors for a moment before slipping outside.
"This is a piece of cake for you. Come on?" Scott plucked the last glass of champagne glass from a tray of a passing waiter and pressed the stem gently into her hands. "I'll fetch a glass for myself and meet you on the terrace." He smoothly suggested, gliding her around to face the doors ahead. "Now, don't get yourself caught." He whispered softly so that only she could her and fell back.
"S..cott…" She stammered, realizing he was nowhere to be seen when she turned back to face him. She released an exasperated sigh before casually wandering over to the terrace.
Certain false information was to be planted by the pair and the CIA wanted to know if Alison could pick up the information accurately.
Scott silently observed her wait outside the doors. She was smiling and making small chat with a few of the other guests, waiting for an opportunity to slip outside undetected. She locked eyes with him as he casually tipped his champagne glass towards her and turned to respond to another guest.
"Men." She snorted under her breath. 'Fine, we'll see." She muttered to herself and slipped outside.
Alison carefully strolled along stone railings of the terrace, appearing to others to be aimlessly wandering, stopping here and there. She slowly sipped her glass of champagne as she stopped to gaze out across the illuminated, topiary gardens below her. She smiled to herself above the rim of her glass and carefully listened to the two men. The taller man was rambling on and on in French about something he was sure the shorter man had to have and cringing inwardly. The man was an impossible fraud.
Alison shook her head and dismissed the rest of the conversation before the sound of voices below drifted up to her. Two other men were in the shadows below discussing a business deal. One voice in particular caught her ear, a deep rich Scottish burr resonated upwards. His tone and inflections reminded her of one of her professors who was from Aberdeen, Scotland. The other man spoke with an Australian accent. She stepped back away from the rail, chiding herself not to listen but the entreating voice beckoned her to. The sudden peal of laughter from a young couple returning from the topiary gardens prompted the men to switch from English to French. She couldn't see either man. She fell back to the shadows and listened intently.
She glanced towards the doors of the terrace for Scott a few times and didn't see him. The strains of music playing inside drifted out, filling the night air and calming her nerves as she watched the pair below her. From her vantage point above, she was hidden from them.
Alison finally heard the men close their business deal and panicked for a brief moment when one of the men started to climb the terrace stairs. "Major," she heard the Scottish man call out to him and heard him stop. She prayed a silent 'thank you' and stepped away from her hiding spot but not before catching a glimpse of the Major standing below her. The Scottish man reached for his cell phone and placed a call while the Major glanced up towards the top of the stairs to his left to watch a couple at the top. His had slipped inside his jacket for a cigarette case. She watched him light up and noticed he had his head angled towards the stairs, watching the couple. If he was distracted, she could slip away, and with a pent up sigh, she did just that.
"Alison, I've been looking for you everywhere." Scott smiled warmly as she approached him. He was standing with their host, an older man who was an old friend of her uncle's. Scott held two champagne glasses.
"I needed a breath of fresh air," she replied, fanning herself with her free hand as she accepted a glass in the other from Scott. She felt a fresh breeze caress her back and cast a furtive glance back towards the terrace doors hoping the two men would not emerge…thankfully, the couple from the stairs entered before they did. She stole a glance back to see the men go their separate ways.
"Are you feeling all right?" Scott asked with genuine concern, closing the distance between them.
"I am sorry but I am feeling tired. I have been working on my thesis." She smiled apologetically.
"Maybe we should get you home," Scott suggested, attempting to wrap a supportive arm around her shoulders. She stepped away. The last thing she needed was another lecture coming from her mother on her decorum. "Alison?"
"I'm fine, just a little tired." She responded, noting an approving nod from an older woman. She bit her tongue before she could render a retort and wondered if she had made a mistake bringing Scott.
"Learn anything?" He glanced over his shoulder while opening the car door for her.
"Not from that fraud," she mused, stepping inside the car.
"Fraud?" Scott raised a brow and rushed around to take the driver's seat.
"The man was an imposter. His accent was flawed so I know he could not have come from where he said he did. "If it's any consolation, I did hear a rather interesting business deal. A man representing an Earl from Callendar, Scotland was negotiating a trade agreement with an Australian Major below the terrace. I figured they were much more interesting and followed their conversation. They switched to French to discuss a weapons shipment. Before the Major left, the Earl's representative placed a cellular call. The shipment's sailing out on a barge tomorrow night from a cove in Northern Scotland." She went on to give him the exact details and took note of his change in demeanor. He looked frantic.
"You're sure that's everything?" Scott pressed, starring at her directly in the eyes.
"Scott, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, I have to get you back." He replied hurriedly and started the car. She grabbed his hand, blocking him from the gear stick before they could move.
"What the hell is going on?" She pushed, clearly annoyed by his odd behavior.
"Nothing---"
"Don't lie to me, Scott."
"It's nothing. I got a big day tomorrow. I have to---" He saw Major Bludd in his rear view mirror, standing outside, waiting for his driver and paused.
"Fine, I'll just call a hack..." Alison snapped and reached over to unlock her door.
Scott grabbed her wrist, pulling her back sharply so she had no choice but to face him. "Don't!" He snapped. She fought him, pulling her wrist back.
"Let go of me, now!" She hissed, bringing up her free hand to claw his hand to release hers when she couldn't pull free. He deftly caught her hand, turning it back.
"Alison, listen to me…" He sounded desperate and the look in his eyes softened, but not his grasp. He wasn't letting go.
"You're hurting me."
"Just wait…let me explain." He pulled her closer, blocking her face from Bludd's car and shielding his own with his arm as Bludd drove past. He sighed a deep breath and loosened his hold. "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? What the bloody hell is going on? Who the hell was that?" She yelled at him.
"I need you to talk to someone." Scott gulped. He had no idea she would run into Major Bludd. "Come with me, please?" She gave him a skeptical look. "Alison?"
"What's going on?" She asked, again, dreading the look in his eyes as he reached to his inside jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet and badge to show her.
"Scott Mullens, Central Intelligence Agency. You bastard!" She hissed, drawing her hand back to slap him. He caught it in his hand.
"Alison."
"Did my parents put you up to this?" She immediately regretted the question but couldn't help herself. "How many times did her father have someone or some agency follow up on her?" She reminded herself. "Well?"
"No." He answered, meeting her angry glare.
"Then who damn it?"
"Come with me and I'll explain. I don't work for your father. We need your help." He said, showing her his badge once more. "The two men you heard are major players." She paused a moment and thought.
"You wanted me to follow those other two men and listen in on their conversation. Why?"
"We wanted to see how good you were." He bowed his head, shaking it in disbelief. "I never would have sent you out there if I had known the Major was out there."
A few calls confirmed Alison had discovered Destro's latest weapons shipment to COBRA. Scott and his supervisor had aggressively pursued her from that moment forward. The CIA desperately wanted her recruited because of her ability to grasp languages, her family connections, and their desperate need for fresh blood in her circles.
She sighed heavily recalling her several conversations with Scott just last week. She glanced back over her shoulder to the phone on her nightstand and found herself wringing her hands while she replayed their last chat in her mind. Scott had sat down beside her on a bench at a park nearby and began to fuss with his camera. He was really playing up the tourist part, rummaging his camera bag for a roll of film. He stood, ready to take her picture.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Scott asked with a chuckle, noticing her distant stare. He dropped his camera down to his side and planted his foot on the edge of the bench.
She blinked pulling herself back to her grim reality. "That's all? I told you, I don't have a choice at this point."
"Even if I guarantee we can make you disappear?" He tempted her once again even though he knew she didn't believe him.
"Right," she scoffed and leaned forward, clutching the edge of her seat tightly. "You don't understand what this means to my…"
"I never figured you for the type to roll over and…" He baited her.
"STOP!" She hissed, locking eyes with him. He knew the stubborn, haunty stare glaring back at him and smirked, instantly gaining her ire.
"You don't know a damn thing about me! If you think," she growled, forcefully poking him in the chest.
"No, I don't know. Where I come from, Mommy and Daddy don't tell me what to do." He fired back.
"Go to HELL," she spat and started to rise from the bench only to be halted by his hand firmly but cautiously grasping her upper arm.
"Don't, I'm sorry," he apologized, softening his voice. "I don't know what your parents are like. I just know how damn miserable you look. All I'm saying is, if you want to leave I can help."
"No, just go… please." She avoided his eyes, glancing away to a nearby fountain.
Scott sighed heavily and loosened his grip on her arm. "Fine, but here, take this." He pressed his business card into her palm. "If you should change your mind…"
She watched him leave. She let him walk off without another word.
Alison shook her head and walked over to her nightstand, opening the drawer she pulled out her day planner and reached for the card, running her fingers over the edges. Up until this moment, she believed if she had delayed this day, as long as possible she might be able to escape it. "I can't do this," she choked, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. "Why can't they understand…why won't they try?" She bit her lower lip as her eyes fell to the floor brimming with unshed tears as she recalled her return from Trinity. Her mother hadn't asked her anything but rather told her rather pointedly that she had reserved the church and the country club for the 17th, a month to the day she graduated. All the arrangements had been made sans her consent.
Still, Alison had tried her best to talk to her parents to make them understand this was marriage would be a huge mistake, but they kept telling her that she should be pleased with Michael for a husband. Her parents had a similar engagement and did well together; besides, Alison and Michael had known each other for years. They could build on their friendship. Alison had been raised to follow her parents' dictates and had always done as she was told. Well, she did until she left for school.
Talking to Michael had not been successful either; he laughed at her and asked her if she was joking when she asked him what he thought of canceling the wedding.
"I tried," Alison cried to herself, wiping away a tear that had escaped. She knew what she had to do and pulled her engagement ring off her hand before wrestling her way out of her cumbersome gown. Donning a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt along with her favorite pair of Keds, she hurried to pack a knap sack she used while hiking. "God, I hate heights," she groaned as she leaned on the open sash of her window. "Then again," she reasoned, weighing her options. Her dread at the thought of marrying Michael far outweighed her fear of heights." She swung her leg over and grabbed onto the trellis for support before shimmying down.
"Let's go, girl," she whispered to herself as she landed outside her father's library window. She crouched low at the sound of her mother's voice fussing over her father's tuxedo and swallowed a knot forming in her throat. "I'm sorry," she choked a whisper and slipped away from the window and her home, willing herself not to look back for fear she'd change her mind.
Alison raced to catch the last ferry. Once on board, she lost herself in the tourists and waited. She'd call Scott once she was on the mainland.
