Eeeps! I forgot the disclaimer. Just in case you were wondering, I don't own these characters:)

Merci pour le reviews!!!:):):)

Whit, Craklyn, I would never kill off Rick in chapter two...maybe in four or five...no, no, no, just kidding!

Dylan, you are such a sweetie! Everyone should click into her profile and read her stuff, it's fab!:)

Note: I'm sort of blending the two movies with the addition of Meela and Izzy, because I felt like it, okay!?!?

Also, I've never been to the White House, please forgive whatever technical errors I may have made.

Title belongs to Wes Craven.

3: "Movies Make Psychos More Creative"

Evelyn stood rooted to the spot, unable to move her legs no matter how much she wanted to follow his instructions and flee back to the car. That was just it...she didn't want to run.

"I'm not going to leave you!"

"Go!" O'Connell shouted, using one last bit of strength to shove her in the general direction of the jeep. "You think I'm the one they're shooting at?"

"I don't care!"

Evelyn felt the sickening sound of another bullet whizzing past her ear before another noise filled her senses. Cars, long, big, black cars, zooming through the alley straight at them. The lead one screeched to a halt in front of the pair and the door swung open. A man in a suit leapt out, hissed, "Get in!" and shoved them both into the car. He climbed in after them, gave the signal to the driver, and the car lurched forward, speedily passing the jeep, exiting the alley, and racing pell-mell through the streets of D.C.

"O'Connell," Evelyn cried, "are you all right?"

"I've just been shot, what do you think?"

"Quit acting like a baby, O'Connell," said another man from across the limo. "It's just a scratch."

"Issac!" Evelyn cried. "What are you doing here? Uh, I mean, hello Mr. President. Nice to see you."

Chuckling, he hugged Evelyn across the seat. His dark hair had begun to gray around the temples, the only indication amid his enthusiastic countenance that President Issac Parkes was finally growing older. "Hello, Evy. When was the last time I saw you? Five, six years ago?"

"At least! I'm sorry I couldn't come to the inauguration, the Museum wouldn't let me take off work--"

"Excuse me, people," O'Connell interrupted, "but there's the little matter of my bullet wound to think about!"

The agent who had pulled them into the car produced a medical kit from nowhere. "You need to get to the hospital, but this will do for now."

"Bey, if you think I'm going to let you--"

"Go and ahead and bleed to death if you want to, O'Connell," Izzy interrupted. "One good turn deserves another, eh?"

Rick rolled his eyes. "Oh for God's sake, Izzy, would you let that go? It was three years ago!"

"That's Mr. President to you, O'Connell. Some nerve you have showing your face around here."

"Jesus, you make one little mistake!"

"I got shot in the ass, O'Connell, you call that a little mistake?!"

"What are you two going on about?" Evelyn asked. "You know Isaac, O'Connell?"

"Sure I do," Rick said, grimacing as he lifted his shirt so Agent Bey could examine his wound. "Used to work for him."

"You were in the secret service?"

"He sure was," said Izzy, "'til I fired him for getting me shot!"

"It wasn't my fault!"

Bey snorted, and muttered something under his breath that only O'Connell caught. "Goddamn it, Bey, would you just--"

"Would you two stop that?" Izzy asked. "We have the matter of this assassination attempt to take care of..."

"Oh, please, it wasn't--"

"No, no, no, Evy, I am not going to let you talk your way out of this one. I'm assigning Agent Bey to stay with you at all times, I'm not going to take any chances."

"I don't need a secret service agent following me around! Besides, I've got O'Connell. He can protect me."

The president grimaced. "Your bodyguard seems to be incapacitated at the moment."

O'Connell wisely chose not to reply to that, instead glowering across the seat at the president as Bey taped gauze over the bullet wound. "Really, O'Connell," Bey said, "it just caught you on the side. Won't even scar if you take care of it."

"How did you know we were here?" Evy asked.

Bey answered. "Well, when Jonathan showed up without you, we sent out a bulletin across the area to see if we could find you. When the call came over my radio we were in the area, and the president, against my strongest advice, insisted on coming and getting you ourselves."

"Thank you, Agent Bey."

He sighed. "No problem. I swear, you and your brother are going to be the death of me."

Meela shook her head in exasperation. She was ending this relationship, and she was ending it now. Her idea of a fun date did not involve sitting in a tiny gray-washed government issue waiting room for four hours with strict instructions not to go anywhere. And she really had to pee, besides.

"Jonathan," she said sweetly, shaking him out of a slumber induced by the dredges of a drug binge. "Jonathan, wake up."

"Wha...what, Meela? Has he come back yet?"

"No. How much longer do you think your friend will be?"

Jonathan blinked, attempting to focus on the woman before him. "Uh...Well, he said he had to take the president somewhere, and then...he...disappeared."

"Yes," she said patiently, fighting the urge to smack him. "And that was four hours ago."

"Was it? Time passes so quickly these days..."

"Jonathan, we've been locked in a little room for four hours with no bathroom, no food and no contact with the outside world! I want out!"

As if the gods had heard Meela's plea, at that moment the door swung open, revealing Agent Bey. "Jonathan," he said, "I hope I have not kept you waiting too long."

"Course not, Ardeth," Jonathan replied cheerily, earning a nasty look from Meela, which he didn't notice. "Where've you been?"

"We just picked up your sister."

"Ah, Evy's in town?"

Bey also fought the urge to smack Jonathan upside the head. "Yes. You were supposed to pick her up."

"Oh." Jonathan scratched his head. "Yeah, I guess I was."

"I need to discuss something with you, Jonathan. Miss...uh..."

"Vasquez. Meela Vasquez."

"Right. I need to talk to Jonathan alone, so if you'd--"

"I really need to use the bathroom, is there..."

"Right next door, to the left."

"Thanks." She made for the door, but not before leaning in close to Bey's ear and whispering, "You have my full permission to beat Jonathan up."

"Thank you ma'am," said Bey, allowing a slight smile to break through his stern expression. "If I could, I would."

Meela slipped past him and made a beeline for the restroom. To think, it had been right next door all that time...she was going to kill Jonathan, she was absolutely going to kill him. Political connections be damned, that man was useless.

A few minutes later Meela stood at the counter washing her hands. She was about to reach for a paper towel when she caught her reflection in the mirror...no...not her reflection, it was...

She tried to scream but a cold wind wrapped around her throat, preventing any noise other than a strangled yelp. There was nothing behind her, she was alone in the bathroom, but there were two reflections in the mirror, and the one that was not her seemed strangely familiar.

He wore a plaid jacket (which he actually pulled off quite nicely, Meela thought) and ridiculous platform tennis shoes that looked like they'd come mint-condition out of the seventies. His head was bald, giving him an old-fashioned handsomeness that almost overcame the pure evil that distorted his face...almost. He spoke, and chills shivered up and down Meela like little mice nibbling on her spine...

"Annie...it has taken me thirty years, but I have finally found you again. You must set me free Annie, you must find me..."

With that, the reflection of nothing faded, and Meela was finally able to scream.

~*~*~*~

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