Typical. Cloudy skies, gray all around, just like a movie. Perfect weather to visit a graveyard. Although, if the weather was reflecting what's going through me right now, the sky would be a dark red and the earth in utter chaos.

Daises adorned the simple headstone, set there by a young girl who looked at the words inscribed with large soulful eyes. They were an exact replica of her father's, a green so bright they often took stranger's breath away. The rest of her features, however, reflected her mother so much Michael never needed pictures around him.

The girl had turned fifteen a few months before, a few weeks before Michael Craig died of cardiac arrest. No foul play was suspected, but Michael was healthier than most men his age. He had been an avid hockey player, which was what drew his daughter to the ice before the age of four. Hockey, however, was not her reason for gliding on the smooth ice. Michael let her watch the figure skaters practice, and the little girl was enchanted by the grace of their moments, blades catching light as they spun.

The girl now clutched at the silver skate charm on her necklace, a birthday present from her boyfriend of six months. Her heart was torn apart, split for the second time by the realization that her parent was no longer alive. It hurt less the first time and she knew why. She couldn't remember her mother because she had died on the girl's first birthday, and it took her six years to give up the pretense her mother would return. This time the girl was well aware of the reality of the situation, was reminded every second that she was utterly alone.

The daisies placed next to the headstone were a tribute to her mother, since she had been cremated and scattered over the ocean. Daisies were her favorite and Michael bought them for his daughter every year.

Tracing the words softly, the girl let out a shaky breath and sent her thoughts out, wishing her father was there to comfort her. A voice to her left made her spine straighten, and she turned quickly to view the speaker.

"Kate Craig?"

Who the hell are you? Kate's eyes narrowed in the direction of the hefty man facing her. He had a gray demeanor that reflected the sky and weather. His hand reached into his pocket as he approached, giving Kate the slightest apprehension. An envelope immerged from the inside of his overcoat, and he looked at her solemnly as he spoke. "Your father asked me to give you this if something ever happened to him. It explains everything."

Kate took the small white envelope and tucked it into her back pocket. The man turned to leave, but Kate seized his arm. "What did he need to explain? I know he loved me, and that's all that mattered." Her eyes glassed over as she realized what he had said. "He knew something would happen?" Releasing the man slowly, she backed away until her legs bumped the headstone. Kate slid down until she was sitting above her father's coffin, back resting on the cool marble. I don't believe it. "He knew."

The man came toward her shaking his head. "No Kate. He didn't know. He just didn't want to leave you with a life of lies." With that, he backed away and walked slowly from the green grass of the cemetery, leaving Kate to suffocate by the questions that choked her.

A few minutes later a young man approached, looking sad and thoughtful. He touched Kate gently on the shoulder. "Kate, I had to say it, but we have to go. Your plane leaves in two hours."

She looked up, the tears threatening to spill over the barrier she was trying so hard to build. She took his hand and pulled herself up. Their hands remained clasped together tightly because he could see the losing battle she was fighting. He stopped and looked her in the eye. "You don't always have to be so strong you know."

Kate threw her arms around his neck as the tears streamed down her cheeks. "Oh Chris, I don't want to leave. This is my home." I belong in Texas. Not Wisconsin.

Smiling a sad smile as he rubbed her back, Chris tried his best to soothe her. "It won't be so bad. You're moving to a place named Watertown. How bad can it possibly be?"

"Horrible."

"You don't know that."

Kate pulled away and crossed her arms over her chest. "You and Dad won't be there. That's all I need to know."

Chris took a step closer, a serious expression clouding his face. "You have to be open-minded or you'll drive yourself crazy. And I'm not visiting if you end up in the loony bin. Promise me that you'll look for the good things."

She shifted her feet. "Ok." Taking her hand again, Chris led her out of the cemetery. Kate took one last glance back to her father's grave, and let one last tear slide as she watched the daisies flutter in the breeze.

***

The woman at the check in counter eyed Kate suspiciously, asking her twice if her parents dropped her off. Yes, lady, I'm a freaking runaway. Call the police. She chose the blunt response and told her the truth; that her parents were dead. The woman shut up after that, only saying to Kate as she left, "Have a nice day!"

Kate and Chris sat outside the gate holding hands and not speaking. All too soon her plane was boarding and the tears were once again sliding down her face. Wrapping her in a tight embrace, Chris kissed her hair and rubbed soothing circles on her lower back. He looked into her eyes to memorize the hue of green before kissing her. Then came the hardest part, letting her go.

Kate walked slowly through the line, slowly down the boarding ramp, and slowly to her seat. My legs feel full of lead. The government had been nice enough to give her a window seat, and as she settled down she felt the envelope in her back pocket. Standing up awkwardly she pulled it out, sat back down, and smoothed the rumpled edges.

Inside was a letter, and judging from the musk and over all feel, Kate figured it had been written a long time ago. The writing was familiar oh god I know that writing, and she recognized it as her father's.

Dear Kate,

If you're reading this, it means I've either disappeared, or I'm not alive. I trust Eric Weiss with my life, so I know this letter will get to you safely. There is something I was planning on telling you when you were older and better able to understand, but if you're reading this, then that means we're not there to protect you anymore.

Sweetheart, your mother did not die of natural causes, and as much as I would like to protect you from the truth, I can't.

She was murdered.

The job your mother had was dangerous, and created many enemies. I wasn't able to save her, but what I can do is save you.

I was not born Michael Craig, and you were not born Kate Craig. My name was Michael Vaughn until 10 minutes ago, when I signed the papers putting you and myself in the witness protection program

You are Emily Brigitte Vaughn, named after two women your mother and I loved. You have to take care of yourself, be strong and stay alert. And if I didn't make it to your sweet sixteen or prom of any of the special moments that you remember your whole life, I want you to know that I will always be watching, and I hope you keep me close to your heart. You don't know how much I regret that your mother and I can't be there to watch you grow. We love you so much.

Love you forever,

Dad

"Excuse me Miss, would you like a pillow?" The flight attendant's voice startled Kate out of the comatose state she had been in. Unable to work her vocal cords, all she could manage was a slight shake of the head.

The captain's voice came in on the speaker, jarring Kate again. What's with the loud voices? "We're ready to begin taxi down the runway. This is a nonstop flight from San Antonio International to Milwaukee International. The estimated flight time is four hours, and I hope you enjoy your flight with American Airlines."

Kate was still in shock, and spent the whole four hours rereading the letter, not really believing that those were her father's words, My name is Emily? and wondering about her mother's job, What the hell could have been so dangerous?

Scenarios flew through her mind, each more laughable than the previous. She was in such a state of shock that the four hours passed without her knowledge. Only once the captain announced that they were getting reading for landing did she notice the time.

Kate had been on few planes in her lifetime, but one thing her father always told her to do was to wait for the other passengers to exit first. So she waited as the entire plane shuffled along the narrow isle, bumping each other with their carry ons and sneezing into the back of another person's jacket.

I hope you keep me close to your heart was the sentence that repeated itself in Kate's mind, and she groped for the picture she always kept tucked in the waistband of her jeans. It was the only family picture she owned, with her mother and father beaming over the bundle of blankets holding her. This is the closest I can get Dad.

Tucking it back in, Kate grabbed her backpack and followed the last of the passengers out of the plane. The boarding ramp was stuffy and it was hard to breathe, so Kate hurried out quickly, not noticing the family waiting with her name on a card.

She sat down on a metal and leather chair, glancing around for her foster family. Not seeing anyone, she pulled out her ice skate charm and fiddled with it, her stomach clenching. I'm all alone.

The family didn't see her exit, but the little boy turned around and saw Kate, and pulled on his father's jacket. They all walked towards her, and Kate only looked up when she heard a startlingly familiar voice.

"Kate Craig?"

Glancing into the features of the woman that would be her foster mother, Kate held back a gasp. It was like looking in a mirror, except the woman's eyes were a rich brown, not piercing green.

Mom?