Spoilers: This takes place sometime in Season Two.
Pairings: JavaJunkie/Literati
Special thanks goes to Encarta for help with writing this chapter.
Beautiful Disaster
She was an ordinary women; she had a job and a conscience. She also had a seven-year-old child without a home. She felt bad about this whole situation, having to find this Luke Danes and tell him that he had daughter, a daughter he never even knew existed, and a dead ex-girlfriend. Sometimes she wished that her conscience would disappear, it would make the job a whole lot easier.
She knocked on the door and straightened out her tie. She was too old to care about fashion and her twenty years on the job had told her one thing, wearing a tie meant you were serious about your work.
"I need to speak with you…" She sighed. The diner was dark and contained no sign of life. She fidgeted. It was getting damn cold out there and just as she was about to turn around and leave, she spotted the dark haired teen as he came down the stairs.
"Young man!" She shouted as she saw him walk by the unopened door. "Young man, please open the door."
"We're closed." Jess stated simply. He wasn't in the mood; all he wanted was a cigarette and chances were he wouldn't get one.
"Is there a man by the name of Luke Danes located at this residence?"
"Who's asking?" Interrupted Luke as he stepped into the Diner and rubbed his eyes.
"Patricia Write, Child Care services."
"It's about time." Replied Jess as he pointed accusingly at Luke. "This 'Luke Danes', if that's even his real name, has broken every child labor law in the book. He forces me to serve tables during school hours and refuses to let me smoke in the house."
Luke looked at him, annoyed. "Jess."
"Hey, I've got no excuses. I'm just a kid."
The women sighed as she watched the two bicker and cleared her throat loudly. "I'm sorry to interrupt but I'm here on important business and if you'd let me in I'd greatly appreciate it."
"Yeah, fine." He replied numbly as he fumbled with the keys and let her enter.
"Okay, the news regards a Ms. Rachel Gambridge, mother of a Madison Gambridge, who recently died in a car crash outside of Denver, Colorado on September 5th of this year."
"What?" He had heard it, but it hadn't registered. This couldn't be happening, he hadn't talked to Rachel in over a year.
"She's dead Mr. Danes, and she left you her daughter."
"Her daughter? She has a daughter?"
"It's your daughter Mr. Danes, and she has no more living relatives. So being that your name is on her birth certificate, you are given full custody of the child."
"This is a joke right? This has go to be a joke."
"It's not a joke. The girl is seven years old, and has no guardian at this point. So I have no other choice but to give the child over to you until we can find her a more adequate home."
Luke remained silent as he took the cap off his head and ran his hand through his hair. This couldn't be happening.
"Sir, I will bring the girl by tomorrow morning. That should give you enough time to think this over and decide what's best for the child. Good day sir." She said as she walked out of the diner.
Mission accomplished.
"How could this have happened?"
"You sure the kids yours?" It was the only thing Jess could think to say. He wasn't good with the touchy feely stuff.
"I have no idea. How could she not tell me?"
"She's dead now." He reminded him. It wasn't meant to sound cold but somehow Jess had grown used to the idea of death and it wasn't so foreign to him. He had lived in New York and it was a common occurrence.
"I'm going to get some air." Jess just nodded as he watched his Uncle head for the door. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes.
"Hey, Luke?"
"Yeah?"
"Take these, they'll help." He replied as he though the pack to his Uncle. Luke nodded and walked out of the Diner.
The bell rang loudly on his way out.
A/N: This is kind of a prologue and very short but it's my first story and I have hard time typing with my broken keyboard (the keys stick and the space bar stops working constantly). Please give your honest opinion on my characterization. I live for constructive criticism.