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ELEVEN

Perko's Café
Brewer, Maine
Friday, August 4, 2006
11:15 PM

It had felt odd showing up to work at four in the afternoon as opposed to six in the morning, but thankfully the extra time allowed Amy to sleep in and clear her head. John had been there the entire time since she had woken up at noon, buzzing from one end of the motel room to the other as he went between checking the articles he had tacked to the wall against something in a heavy book he refused to pick up and carry with him. As she watched him, sitting in bed with the television on mute until three, Amy could see that John was in some kind of frenzy, seeming panicked about something he appeared to be in the middle of. Whatever it was, though, it had to be some fact he had learned while away, probably something that would explain his hectic behavior and the bruises he had attained.

Since his return earlier that day, John had apparently forgotten about Amy's existence, ignoring her as she sat beneath the covers, watching him like a bemused cat as her eyes followed him back and forth. The only time he noticed her presence was when she had kicked back the sheets to head for the shower, shutting off the television and accidentally ramming right into him as he went for the wall again. Apologizing, she crossed the room to pause in the doorway to the bathroom, taking in John's repeated motions as he went through his hazy routine once again.

However, all of that had been forgotten as soon as she entered the Perko's Café. It seemed, as a testament to Amy's disbelief of Sarah's story that she actually had a job interview and was instead going on a date just like she had when she claimed she was waiting for a babysitter, the girl appeared to be lip-locked with a man twice her age, squeezing Sarah's backside as they continued to maul each other's faces. Even as she made as much noise as possible upon entering the diner, the tinkling of the bell over the door going unheard, nothing she could do would break them apart until the alarm on the digital clock by the register buzzed at four. Separating, Sarah had wiped her smeared lip gloss off of her face and pretended as though Amy hadn't walked in on her and her boyfriend nearly going all the way. Handing over the apron they shared, since there were only the two of them working there, Sarah had skipped off out the door with the man, not even bothering to clock out as she went.

Unfortunately, only minutes after her co-worker's departure, the diner had begun to fill. While Amy knew that during the day the place was deserted, it seemed the true was opposite of the evening shift. As people trickled in from outside, the handful of parking spaces becoming slotted with cars, Amy was soon up to her neck in customers. Thankfully, as she went through the practiced motions of taking orders, delivering food, and picking up used plates, feeling swamped when she realized the table next to the one she was standing at was also ready to eat, the place began to fall into a rhythm after five, slowing down to the point where Amy didn't feel as though she was swimming in quicksand trying to make sure every customer she had was settled.

By the time the dinner, and way-after-dinner, crowd had trickled into a manageable stream before settling into just a few tables of people, Amy had already made a pledge to never agree to take over Sarah's shift again. While she didn't mind the hard work, or even the customers who had been a bit rowdy when they didn't get their food timely, the fact that she wasn't back in the motel at this time of night bothered her. Almost every time, including when John had come to retrieve her from Northbrook, John had left during the evening to head elsewhere with her riding shotgun. Though Amy had no idea when John was likely to leave, she didn't want to know what he would do if she weren't back in time for him to abandon ship. It was possible, based on the way he had been acting earlier, that he would forget her altogether, checking out without a backwards glance at the girl he had left behind.

Frowning, Amy looked at the clock just as the bell above the door tinkled again, noting that it was only an hour before their midnight closing. Rolling her eyes at the sound, ready to shut the place down prematurely, while she reached for the plates that had been placed on the stainless steel counter between her and the kitchen, Amy turned to distribute the meals, setting the pair of hamburgers down on the table in front of two men who appeared to be truckers. Grinning at them before turning, she glanced at the customers who had walked in, her heart almost stopping when she recognized their shapes. On the other side of the restaurant, Dean took a seat across from his partner, his eyes on the other man as the taller of the two wiped absently at his face. A moment later, the bell above the door rang again, this time to allow Sarah's thin form to enter, her eyes appearing swollen and red.

Suddenly, Amy's sympathies overflowed the irritation she had for the girl as Sarah made her way behind the counter, rubbing at her eyes as tears leaked out of the corners. Biting her lip, Amy sighed quietly as she watched her co-worker pretend to reach for her abandoned order pad, keeping her head down as she looked anywhere but upward. After a long minute, the sound of a whistle diverted Amy's attention, causing her to look away from the distressed girl in front of her and toward the truckers she had just left, both of which holding up empty soda cups and shaking them to rattle the ice.

Bunching her jaw, Amy headed for their table, collecting the glasses and turning toward the machine against the back wall. While she refilled them with Coke, she kept her eyes on Sarah, who seemed to be gathering herself slowly as she wiped away the last of her tears. Not wanting to bother the other girl by asking what was wrong, thinking that she didn't want to be disturbed, Amy rounded for the truckers, depositing their drinks and turned for the men who had just entered. Before she could get there, however, Sarah reached over the counter to stop her, startling Amy and causing her to jump in surprise.

"Kelly, can we talk?"

Furrowing her brow in confusion, Amy nodded and leaned against the Formica between them, listening as Sarah talked quietly.

"Listen, I'm having a really bad night. My boyfriend broke up with me, and just… everything is a mess," Sarah sighed, running her hands through her hair. "What do you say you get out of here when this crowd leaves and I'll close up behind you? I'm sure no one will notice if this place closes down a half an hour early."

"Yeah, sure. I'll take the side with the truckers and you can take the side with the suits," Amy grinned, nodding toward Dean and his partner and feeling relief at getting to avoid them. While she knew she could keep her eyes on them from a distance, she also knew that the closer she got to them, the more likely it was that they would recognize her. Not wanting to change appearances in case Sarah made a comment about it or it seemed weird, Amy hadn't tried to don a wig, glasses, or colored contacts, instead choosing to appear as normal as possible, removing the necklace Dean seemed to recognize from around her neck and placing it in her pocket to have it remain close to her. If they asked if they had seen her before, which they probably wouldn't, Amy could lie and say they had her mistaken for someone else. Then again, if they were wanted by the FBI, it was likely they would skip trying to figure out where they had seen her and go straight for making her confess to following them and working with a Fed.

Swallowing hard, Amy waited for Sarah to head to the other side of the diner before working the one she had designated herself. As she fluttered from the five tables making up the left flank of the small restaurant, keeping her head down whenever she had to face the direction of the two men, Amy waited for her area to clear before heading behind the counter. When she saw that it appeared more people were going out than coming in, she waited for Sarah to return, her section of the place just as empty as Amy's, though with Dean and his partner still taking up a booth toward the middle. Fortunately, though, they were one of the last pairs inside, the rest of their previous customers staying outside and mingling in the parking lot.

"You can go," Sarah said, smiling now. "I can finish up."

Nodding in thanks, Amy untied the apron from around her waist and placed it beneath the counter, reaching for her purse from where it had been stashed under the register. Bidding Sarah goodnight, she rounded to the door, pulling it open and listening to the bell. The breeze outside was cool and crisp, causing Amy to wish she had worn more than that thin, red University of Louisville t-shirt and skirt to work. However, before she could head out into the chill, the sound of a fork being dropped on a table preceded her name being called, causing Amy to freeze in place.

"Kelly! Kelly Taylor!"

Swallowing hard, Amy had a feeling the clatter of silverware in combination with the yelling had been the straw that broke the camel's back. After keeping her head down and staying a safe distance away while checking on the two men she had been asked to watch, Sarah had just accidentally opened the can of words what she had been trying to keep closed. For some reason, even though the name she had chosen had been common enough, she had the strange sense that at least one of the two men had remembered it. That, in combination with the taller of the two staring at her a couple of days before as though he knew her from somewhere, had probably just been the last thing they needed to piece together what was going on. However, it wasn't just guessing that lead her to this conclusion. Strangely, somewhere deep in her gut, she knew they were onto her. It was as though the atmosphere in the diner had changed with the call, like a cloud of anger had formed over the establishment.

Turning and attempting to appear oblivious, Amy gazed at Sarah.

"Don't want to forget your paycheck!" Sarah grinned.

"Seriously," Amy laughed awkwardly, staring at the white envelope the girl had handed her without truly seeing it. She could feel the men's eyes on her, burning into her as recognition dawned. It would only be a matter of minutes before they were after her, probably going to haul her off in a non-descript van to some undisclosed location to try to make the spy squeal. Nodding slowly, Amy let out a shallow breath and glanced at Sarah, her co-worker's eyes narrowed curiously. "Anyway, see you."

Pushing her way out the door, Amy wasn't sure what to do. The motel room she shared with John was at least half an hour away, and she hadn't taken the time to call a cab before clocking out. John would probably get there faster, but reaching out to him would mean she would have to explain her slip-up, probably resulting in a scolding and her being sent back to Illinois for her misdeed. While that wasn't all bad, especially since she had to find a way to get back home before school started anyway, she didn't want her transgression to be the thing that stopped her from getting to know John. He was her biological father, and though he didn't act very parental, she still wanted to have some sort of relationship with him. If this was what they had, her keeping eyes and ears out for him while he continued building a case for the FBI, then so be it. At least they had something. She had been curious over her real parents for years, and she didn't want to end any kind of ties after just meeting one half of the pair that had brought her into this world.

However, if time was of the essence, Amy needed to get out of there quick before the men caught up to her. Whipping out her cell phone, she sent John a text message, hoping that he had learned how to read them by now, and asked for his help by sending nothing but the address. While that wasn't much information to go on, she was sure it would be enough to get him to show up, if nothing else.

Unfortunately, as soon as the message was sent, she realized she had written it too late. As the tinkling of the bell echoed throughout the night, Amy could see Dean and his partner heading for her, both with sour expressions on their faces. Flattening her back against the stucco wall of the diner, as though doing so would protect her, Amy glanced toward the few milling bodies standing outside of the cars in the lot, hoping someone would notice anything weird should the two men try something. Stopping in front of her, Dean narrowed his eyes angrily, causing Amy to do nothing but smile naively as though she knew nothing.

"We need to talk to you," Dean muttered, glancing around as his partner blocked off Amy's path back toward the restaurant, preventing her from running. As the man's glare took in the same people Amy had been hoping would help in a sticky situation, he turned his gaze to the empty lot behind the diner, one with no lights and no visibility from inside the restaurant. "Maybe somewhere more private."

Following his eyes as she felt a strong hand grab her arm and pull her forward, Amy gasped in surprise and followed, not resisting or trying to run. These two had been described as dangerous and armed, and she had a feeling that escaping would do nothing but cause the pair to pull out whatever weapons they had concealed and start firing. Instead, she fell limply under his grasp, her heart beating a mile a minute.

"Who are you?" Dean asked, letting her go roughly.

Chest heaving, Amy glanced around before looking the two men in the eyes. While she could still see hardened anger beneath both of their glares, though a little less in the taller one's, she could also see extreme confusion and curiosity. Wondering if that could somehow be used to her advantage, that maybe telling the truth could get them to let her go and head back to John when he showed up, Amy swallowed hard.

"My name is Amy—Amelia. Amelia Mae."

"What are you doing here?" Dean fired off, clearing his throat.

"I don't—" Amy began, trying to keep her breathing even, but was cut off by Dean.

"What are you doing in Maine?" he asked, lowering his voice in a forced attempt to sound calm, despite the fact that Amy could tell he was anything but. "We've seen you all over the place; Kentucky, Arkansas, and now here. Why? Why are you following us? And what are you doing working with our dad?"

All of a sudden, Amy gasped while Dean's partner—brother, she amended—tried to appease him and slow the questions. Thankful for the pause, she turned her attention to the ground, her heart resuming its hammering as she tried to sort out her thoughts. Everything seemed disconnected and scrambled, her mind racing and her chest heaving. John had her following his sons? And if they were his sons, they were her brothers? But she already had brothers, Thomas and Tristan, though they weren't by blood. These two, in front of her, were related to her… by blood? But if that was the case, why would John make her watch them, and why not tell her the truth about them? Instead, he had just said they were dangerous and needed to be kept an eye on. Did he think that telling her she had brothers, that he needed them to be watched to make sure they were okay, or whatever his reason was, would prevent her from doing so? Did he think she would be so consumed with the thought of having actual relatives that she would just throw herself at them to find out what they were like, what music they listened to, what their favorite color was?

Head spinning, Amy tried to center herself, only coming up short. For some reason, she didn't care to know anything about the two who were standing before her. She didn't need a new family, she liked the one she had. Why were they suddenly throwing themselves into her life? Why couldn't they wait until she had graduated college to show up and present themselves to her? What was so special about now? Why were they intent on screwing everything up? Quickly, she was angry. John had lied, giving her the impression of so many things—that Dean and his brother were dangerous, that John worked for the FBI, and so on.

Letting out a shallow sigh, Amy closed her eyes for a minute before looking up at Dean and the unnamed brother. She could see it now, the color of the brother's hair and the color and shape of Dean's eyes being almost exactly the same as hers. Reaching up absently to twirl her own chestnut locks around her fingers, Amy breathed, still in disbelief.

"Your dad?" At Dean's curious nod, Amy answered him, the words spilling out of her mouth as she suddenly felt nervous and overwhelmed, "He told me you were dangerous, that he needed me to watch you and keep tabs, or surveillance, or whatever he said. He said it was part of his mission."

"Mission?" the brother piped up, suddenly jumping into the conversation. "Did he tell you what kind of mission?"

"Some FBI thing, I guess. I saw his badge lying around," Amy answered, bunching her jaw and clearing her throat anxiously. "He wouldn't give me any details. Just told me to tell him if I saw you do anything weird—which I haven't, by the way. I started to ask him about it, but he just kind of… got mad."

"Yeah, that sounds like him," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes at some secret irritation she couldn't place. "But why you? I mean, no offense, but you don't exactly look like the type of girl to get into this. And I doubt you signed up for the gig."

Sighing, Amy bit her lip again, answering truthfully. "I… I don't know."

All of a sudden, the low growl of John's truck engine sounded down the highway, causing Amy to sigh quietly in relief. As Dean and his brother's eyes turned toward each other, communicating almost telepathically, they nodded in unison before disappearing, leaving Amy alone for a minute to try to sort herself out. Heading for where she had been standing while placing the SOS for John's help, Amy leaned against the cold building as the truck bounced into the parking lot, stopping for a small second for Amy to jump into the cab. As soon as she was inside, questions began to flood her brain, things she wondered about John and why he hadn't told her she had been keeping surveillance on the brothers she never knew about. Instead, she remained silent, letting the inquisitions grow, along with a bubbling anger at being left in the dark to come up with her own conclusions about what was going on. All of a sudden, she doubted everything about John, from his job to his reason for picking her up and disrupting her life. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more furious she became, making a point of staying quiet until they got to the motel, where she would unleash every question that had piled up while on the road with the man.