Jacklyn Buela Burkhart-Foreman was so many things. Insanely beautiful, his best friend's brother. His chick. Fashionable. One thing he didn't love about her?

She was shallow.

Residual, maybe not like she was, and definitely not like the cheerleaders. However, she had a love for material things that he could not give her. Diamonds and pearls, and when Valentines Day rolled around... It was his rebel side's worst nightmare. Capitalism was going to destroy the planet, and he was all over the definition of. Well, maybe not.

He was sitting in the basement, glaring a hole into the stereo system on the wall, when the basement door swung open. She stood there, hair a mess, eyes glazed over with tears in her eyes, and a piece of paper in her hands. "I hate the United States Government!" She wailed, lip jutting out and quivering. He snapped his head over in her direction, as he watched his normally bad-ass, brick wall of a chick crumble before him. She walked over and collapsed in his lap.

That would have been the best statement he ever heard come out of her mouth, had she not been sobbing. He felt his heart crack in his chest.

"What's wrong Jackie?" He asked, voice full of concern and uncharacteristically soft. She opened her mouth, wiping tears away, before falling back into hyperventilating. "My-my-" She tried, but shoved the paper into her boyfriend's hands. He folded it up into his pocket, and stood, guiding her towards his bedroom, and closing the little wooden door behind them. He turned on the twinkling string lights that lined his bedroom, and sat down beside her on his little cot that was covered with sheets and a down comforter.

He pulled the paper out, as she sobbed into his lap. The front was addressed to her and was written out in a typewriter format. He gingerly opened the envelope.

Dear Ms Burkhart,

He cringed at the name, knowing she would have too. It simply brought the past back into her face, waving it about like a taunt.

This letter is to inform you of the reasonable suspicion that John and Pamela Burkhart have reenteredthe Continental United States of America. Due to your ties with these very dangerous criminals, I wanted to inform you that this may pose as a threat to your safety.

Please give us a call as soon as you receive this letter.

Very Truly Yours,

Sarg. Andrew Tuckerman, FBI

He swallowed thickly, running a hand over the signature and phone number, before laying an awkward hand on her shaking body, and pulling her upright into an embrace. She cried dry sobs into his chest.

"I worked so hard to detach myself from them." She cried. "And, now, now-" He soothed her sobs, and stood. "Let's go tell your Ma. They'll handle it."

"It's not that." She told him, as he guided her upstairs. "They think I'm in danger, Steven. That means they'd wanna hurt me."

"Jackie, I doubt they would ever hurt you." He tried to reassure her, in the same voice as earlier. She sobbed. "Stop talking like I'm made of glass." She demanded, but her voice cracked, and her cheeks were red like the color of blood. The chatter of the busy kitchen was silenced when the two entered, Jackie sniffling and choking on her sobs.

Laurie dug through the cabinet for a paper bag, as Eric pulled a chair up to the table. Kitty took the paper from her, and read it over with Red and Eric, as Laurie instructed Jackie to use the paper bag, effectively eradicating her sobs, and her hyperventilating.

"They should have directed this letter to us. I'm sorry sweetheart." Kitty gingerly hugged the petite girl, and she broke into tears again.

Bea and Burt yelling at each other in the living room became white noise as the family of six consoled the crying girl in the kitchen. And, maybe it had seemed ridiculous to anyone else.

But to her, it was life shattering. Memories of dishes crashing in the kitchen as her mother drunkenly destroyed things, paper files burning in the fireplace and smelling the house for days after. Her father's face scratched up from her mother's perfectly manicured nails.

Every time she looked in the mirror she saw her mother's petite frame and what seemed to be her father's face. Her mismatched eyes one her father's and one her mother's. Not noticeable unless you looked, but once you saw it was hard to unsee. It was hard to look so much like what you were trying to run away from.

And now, an FBI agent believed that she was in danger, because the people who left her in a house alone with strangers they barely knew, the people who missed birthdays and holidays, the people who absolutely destroyed her, were back. Who knows where, but they were back.

Briefly she wondered what her mother looked like, and if the bottle of alcohol had withered her away. If she looked old for forty-three. If Jack Burkhart had finally killed her. They were wanted because he was one of the biggest drug pushers in the country, and he kept Pamela hooked on Blow as collateral. She knew. She knew and they knew that she knew.

She looked up at Red once her sobs had quieted, and he rested his large hand on her knee. "Jackie, nothing is gonna happen to you. I promise." He reassured her, attempting a small smile. His voice was softening with age, but he was still the same old solid oak tree they'd all come to know. She stilled, before she stood, and looked at Steven with desperation. Bea entered the kitchen.

"Dear, you look terrible." She told the teenager. "You should really go clean up, this is no way for Steven to see you, now." Jackie looked at her in disbelief, eyes narrowing, and a frown setting deeper into her features. She looked downward at her feet.

"With all due respect, Bea." Steven said, linking his arm in Jackie's. "Your advice sucks."

"Excuse me?" She cried.

"Jackie can feel however she wants, whenever she wants. It ain't nineteen twenty, and she doesn't need to hide from anyone. Especially not the people in this room." Bea looked taken aback, her lips forming a pin line, as she darted her eyes over towards her daughter.

"Katherine, are you going to let this little street rat talk to your mother like that?" She snarled at the blonde, who scoffed.

"Our Steven is not a street rat, he's one of our kids, and he's my daughter's boyfriend! You will not, I repeat, not ever disrespect one of my children in their own home." She stepped closer to her mother. "If you don't like that, you are more than welcome to stay in the motel up the street." She glared into her mother's eyes.

"Katherine!" She cried. "I can't believe you're siding with this delinquent! Look at his parents! Look at what he'll turn into, sweetheart." His stomach flipped at the words being thrown out.

"Well, I guess it's great that I didn't turn out like you." She told her. "At least my children actually like me."

"How dare you speak to me like that? I am your mother!"

"Well, you suck. I'll drive you to the airport tonight. Pack your shit, you aren't welcome here until you can respect my children!" Kitty yelled.

"Alright Mom!" Laurie cheered, a grin spread from ear to ear, blue eyes looking up with brightness from the kitchen table.

"Kitten, be quiet, let your mother be powerful in silence." Red said with a smile on his face, watching as his wicked mother in-law storm out the swinging door.