Part One

Disclaimers in Prologue.


She is dreaming.

It is raining outside, a thunderous summer storm, drenching the green countryside. Lois is sitting in a bay window, knees drawn up to her chest, watching the rain patter the leaves of the large oak just outside.

Her mother won't let her go out, she says the lightning makes it too dangerous. Lois waits, patiently, for the rain to stop, before darting outside. She stops on the steps of the house, inhaling the fresh, sweet wetness and looks into the sky. The clouds have cleared with the incredible swiftness of a summer rain and there in the sky hangs the most vibrant double rainbow she's ever seen.

Rainbows are promises, her mother told her the first time Lois ever saw one.

Lois watches a ten-year-old Yves chase the rainbow. She runs, trying to catch it, attempting to put her hands in the evanescent colors, to see if they feel as liquid as they look, but she can't reach it. No matter how far or fast she runs, she never catches up to it.

She turns to her companion standing beside her and says, "She'll never catch it, will she?"

The blond man answers, "Not if she keeps running, Lois."

She asks, "Do you think she ever will, Jimmy?"

He replies, "Gotta stand still to catch rainbows."

Yves opened her eyes. The only light in the room came from the moonlight shining soft silver against the walls, and a clock with a faint red glow of numbers.


"Got everything, Mom?"

"Of course, Michael," came a voice from behind the open trunk door of a burgundy Chevy Cavalier. She slammed it down, the escaping air ruffling her shoulder-length ginger curls. "Thanks for looking out for me." She chucked the ten year old under his chin.

He said, disgusted, "Aw, mush." He looked up, way up, at the man standing beside him. Michael said, "Your turn, Uncle Jimmy."

Jimmy folded his sister in a hug that she practically disappeared in. He released her and said, "Come back soon, Jess."

"I'll only be gone for a few days, Jimmy, you know that." Jessica smiled, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the nose.

He rubbed his nose. "Jess!" he protested, in a tone not too different from Michael's.

She winked at him and said, "Now, try not to feed him too many pizzas, okay?"

"Who me?"

Michael shuffled back and forth, kicking up the melting snow. He complained, "It's cold out here. I'm going back inside."

Jimmy grabbed him, pulling him back as he started past him. "Hey," he said, "get back here. Give your mom a hug."

"Oh, all right."

He hugged Jessica, who bent to kiss him on the cheek. "Love you," she said.

"Love you too, Mom." Embarrassed, he ducked his head and darted back into the house.

Jessica said, "I'm gonna miss him."

"Hey, he knows you gotta go do this. He'll be all right. You know, you could have done this without having to go to him."

"Stop worrying, Jimmy. Yes, I could have, but that's not what Bonds do, do we? We face up to our mistakes, stare them in the face."

"I wish I could go with you."

"Then who would look after Michael? You have to stay here." She gave him a swift poke in the chest. "Besides it will give you a few days to coach with him, without me hovering."

He nodded.

Jessica waved at the house, where Michael had pushed back the curtains and was watching them. He waved back.

Jimmy picked up the only remaining piece of luggage, a small black bag and placed it on the backseat of the car. He slammed the door shut and said, "There you go. All set."

He opened the driver's side door and she slid in, slamming the door. She rolled down the window and looked up at him.

"See you later, Jimmy."

"Promise you won't let Sean--"

"I won't. Promise. Bye, Jimmy."

She rolled up the window and drove away.


"You'd do this to your own father."

Abner Runce turned from gazing out the window of his study to face his daughter. It was raining outside, cold water on the verge of sleet. He was a tall man, with hair gone salt and pepper, pale skin, and a sharp-angled face. His ice-blue eyes only added to the first impression of hardness.

Yves gritted her teeth. "You ceased to be my father a long time ago."

He raised his eyebrows. "I tried to be a good father. I wanted you to be my daughter."

She shook her head. "I didn't want to be yours."

He inclined his head. "I remember. Your mother always said I'd lose you. But, you've made me proud, in your own way. Strong, independent, as lovely as your mother."

"You made my mother's life a living hell," she said with quiet precision, "and I refuse to have you ruin mine."

"That's why they're out there?" He gestured past her to a thick, carved wooden door. "Couldn't do it alone, could you?"

"Enough. It's time to go."

He nodded and gathered his coat from where it had been hanging on the back of a heavy wood and leather chair. He swung it around, threading his arms into the thick woolen folds.

Yves opened the door leading out, revealing a group of armed men wearing dark jackets, the yellow initials of F.B.I. standing out in sharp contrast.

She said, "Agent Perkins, he's all yours."

Agent Perkins, a middle-aged man with carrot red hair, moved forward and behind Runce, binding his hands with handcuffs.

He pushed Runce forward, walking him forcefully through the door. Yves followed after them, gathering her coat around her in preparation for the cold.

The freezing wind tore at them all, the thick coats they wore providing little protection. Yves unfurled her umbrella, using it as a shield against the rain, which had finally turned to blinding sleet.

Runce called back to his daughter, "Lois."

She struggled through the rain to walk beside him. His attending agent walked a few paces ahead, leaving Yves to hold her umbrella over herself and her father.

"Yes?"

He looked at her, and she puzzled over the sudden softness in his eyes. He said, "Bury me beside your mother."

She said, "What?" but the word was drowned by the sound of a single gunshot.

The sounds of the agents' shouts faded, as Yves fell to her knees beside her father, his blood staining the snow-covered ground, seeping warmly into her dark clothes.

"Daddy?" she whispered.

All she heard was the ragged in and out of his fading breath.

Her voice was harsh, "Who? Who was it?"

Abner's eyes closed.