Bullets
Disclaimer: Nope. Alias still isn't mine.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
"Laurie, what was all the yelling?" Brandon asks me.
"We had an unexpected visitor," I mutter.
I still hold the gun, but I manage to keep it hidden from Brandon. If he was scared before, he'd be hysterical if he saw the gun. But the gun has the opposite effect for me; it's comforting to know it's there.
Suddenly, there's a loud noise in the hall, like a fight had started. The man I once knew as my reclusive, but pleasant, neighbor Mr. Milner comes racing down the hall and out the front door. I come to the door of the den just as Daddy comes barreling down the hall. He runs to the door as though to run after the man, but instead he turns around and comes back to the den.
"Damn," he mutters. "He's long gone now."
We stand in the doorway of the den for a long time in silence. Brandon wanders over to stand with us.
"Daddy?" I say finally. "What just happened?"
He shakes his head.
"I don't know," he mutters. "I better call Kendall." he wanders off in search of his cell phone.
I lead Brandon back to the couch.
"Try to go to sleep. It's too early to be up."
"But I'm awake now! I can't go back to sleep!"
"Please, Brandon. Go back to sleep."
"But I wanna know what happened! Why is Daddy mad?"
"Please, just go to sleep. I'll tell you in the morning, I promise."
He pouts, but as soon as he lies down he falls asleep. I go to look for Daddy. Brandon was right, he did look upset. And…distant. It was weird. Unfortunately for me, he met me at the door.
"We have to talk about this," he says, leaning over to snatch up the gun off of the table I laid it on.
I nod and follow him out of the den. He must expect our discussion to get loud, because he leads me down the hall to his bedroom and shuts the door. His room is further from the den than the kitchen is.
"Daddy, please…" I try to explain.
"No!" he snaps. "You're a smart girl, Laura. You knew I didn't even like you knowing about guns, yet you grab one and chase after what was most likely one of Sloane's hit men! You could have been killed! You…"
"No!" I shout. "*You* could have been killed! After all this time, I get to see you again," I say, trying to keep my voice lower. "I'm not about to sit by while someone kills you and not do a damn thing about it!" I rarely curse, and this is definitely a bad time to start. "Daddy," I cry, "I was careful! I could have protected myself! If I hadn't found the gun, I *never* would have come after him! I…"
"Stop it! I don't want you playing with guns! I'm a trained CIA field agent, I can take care of myself! I don't need a thirteen year old girl who's never handled a weapon before trying to protect me! What you did was stupid, Laura. You could have been killed!"
"I don't care!" I shriek. "I had to do something!" Hot tears flood my eyes. "if he'd killed you and I'd sat by and done nothing, knowing that gun was there, *it would have been my fault*!" Tears pour down my face.
******************************************************************************************
"What if you'd gotten hurt? Don't you think that's how I'd feel?" he asks, pleading for the hysterical girl to understand.
"But I didn't!" she cries.
"And neither did I," Vaughn says, suddenly much calmer than before.
Vaughn puts his arms around his daughter and she turns to wrap her arms around his neck. Then she steps back and stares up at him.
"I'm sorry," she says softly. "I just couldn't sit by and let something happen."
"I know," Vaughn replies guiltily. "That's the same reason I got so mad. I don't want you to get hurt."
"I can take care of myself, you know," she says, with considerably less conviction than she would have used only days earlier.
******************************************************************************************
"Laura, I'll make you a deal," Vaughn says over lunch. Once they'd gone to sleep, they'd slept until 11:00.
"What?" she asks, glad to break the tense silence.
"You swear to me that you'll let me handle things like what happened last night from now on unless absolutely necessary…" He paused, letting that sink in. "And I'll take you to the CIA shooting range and we'll see what you know."
"Really?" Laura asks in disbelief. "You will?"
Vaughn nods.
"I promise! I only want to be able to protect myself! And then I'll know for sure if I can shoot…"
"That's what this is. I want both of us to know exactly what you're capable of," Vaughn says seriously.
"When?" Laura is excited, even though she knows this is serious. She's always had an interest in guns, even though her mother lectured her endlessly about how dangerous they were. Probably *because* she lectured her endlessly.
"As soon as possible," Vaughn replies. "Today, if I can make the arrangements. Which shouldn't be a problem since Kendall knows what you did last night," he adds pointedly.
******************************************************************************************
Now that we're really here, I'm pretty nervous. I've never shot a gun before, never even handled one until last night. May be Daddy's right. May be I was stupid to mess with that gun.
As soon as we walk in, the man running the place walks up to Daddy. He gives the two of us those protective earmuffs, and Daddy shows him the CIA issue gun he's going to let me use.
Before we start, Daddy explains that the targets are on tracts hanging from the ceiling. They're made of cheap wood, so they show where the bullets hit. He won't tell me anything else. He's really testing to see how much I know. I suppress a grin as he watches me go through checking to be sure the gun is loaded and everything. I know he expected to have to help me. The look on his face says plain as day that he's surprised. I can't help a cocky grin in his direction.
Daddy stands behind me while I watch for the first target. When it swings down, I shoot. The grouping is terrible. Four of the shots were embedded in one or the other shoulder, while two missed altogether. And the target was nearly on top of me before I got off all six shots.
I watch Daddy out of the corner of my eye as I reload. He's not at all surprised that my accuracy is really bad. He does seem impressed that I manage to reload without help, even if it did take nearly five minutes with me fighting the whole time. I wouldn't have asked for his help if it had taken hours, and he probably wouldn't have offered, either.
The second time, all six shots hit the target, at least. Only one is in the chest, and then only just barely. By the fifth round, though, Daddy is definitely impressed. Five of the shots hit in the chest, and at least two of them would have been fatal.
I admit it, I'm proud of myself. To have never even touched a gun before and have five chest shots on the fifth round fired must be pretty good.
"So?" I ask, removing the ear muffs.
"You're better than I expected," he admits reluctantly. "You're fairly accurate, very accurate for an amateur, and your time is good. A lot of people have trouble getting the shots off fast."
"And?" I prompt.
"And…I'm impressed," he sighs.
"Thank you," I say smugly.
"That doesn't mean you can carry a gun," he says sharply. "Your promise still applies, even if you could get a tight grouping in under three seconds, which you can't. This is still a last result."
"I promised, and I'll keep my promise," I say defensively.
He holds my look for a long time before he finally looks away, satisfied that I mean it.
"Come on, Weiss and Brandon will tear the house apart if we don't get back," he says.
"Let me shoot one more round. Please?"
"Okay. One more. I don't want you getting too cocky," he agreed.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Cute, no? Please review!
Disclaimer: Nope. Alias still isn't mine.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
"Laurie, what was all the yelling?" Brandon asks me.
"We had an unexpected visitor," I mutter.
I still hold the gun, but I manage to keep it hidden from Brandon. If he was scared before, he'd be hysterical if he saw the gun. But the gun has the opposite effect for me; it's comforting to know it's there.
Suddenly, there's a loud noise in the hall, like a fight had started. The man I once knew as my reclusive, but pleasant, neighbor Mr. Milner comes racing down the hall and out the front door. I come to the door of the den just as Daddy comes barreling down the hall. He runs to the door as though to run after the man, but instead he turns around and comes back to the den.
"Damn," he mutters. "He's long gone now."
We stand in the doorway of the den for a long time in silence. Brandon wanders over to stand with us.
"Daddy?" I say finally. "What just happened?"
He shakes his head.
"I don't know," he mutters. "I better call Kendall." he wanders off in search of his cell phone.
I lead Brandon back to the couch.
"Try to go to sleep. It's too early to be up."
"But I'm awake now! I can't go back to sleep!"
"Please, Brandon. Go back to sleep."
"But I wanna know what happened! Why is Daddy mad?"
"Please, just go to sleep. I'll tell you in the morning, I promise."
He pouts, but as soon as he lies down he falls asleep. I go to look for Daddy. Brandon was right, he did look upset. And…distant. It was weird. Unfortunately for me, he met me at the door.
"We have to talk about this," he says, leaning over to snatch up the gun off of the table I laid it on.
I nod and follow him out of the den. He must expect our discussion to get loud, because he leads me down the hall to his bedroom and shuts the door. His room is further from the den than the kitchen is.
"Daddy, please…" I try to explain.
"No!" he snaps. "You're a smart girl, Laura. You knew I didn't even like you knowing about guns, yet you grab one and chase after what was most likely one of Sloane's hit men! You could have been killed! You…"
"No!" I shout. "*You* could have been killed! After all this time, I get to see you again," I say, trying to keep my voice lower. "I'm not about to sit by while someone kills you and not do a damn thing about it!" I rarely curse, and this is definitely a bad time to start. "Daddy," I cry, "I was careful! I could have protected myself! If I hadn't found the gun, I *never* would have come after him! I…"
"Stop it! I don't want you playing with guns! I'm a trained CIA field agent, I can take care of myself! I don't need a thirteen year old girl who's never handled a weapon before trying to protect me! What you did was stupid, Laura. You could have been killed!"
"I don't care!" I shriek. "I had to do something!" Hot tears flood my eyes. "if he'd killed you and I'd sat by and done nothing, knowing that gun was there, *it would have been my fault*!" Tears pour down my face.
******************************************************************************************
"What if you'd gotten hurt? Don't you think that's how I'd feel?" he asks, pleading for the hysterical girl to understand.
"But I didn't!" she cries.
"And neither did I," Vaughn says, suddenly much calmer than before.
Vaughn puts his arms around his daughter and she turns to wrap her arms around his neck. Then she steps back and stares up at him.
"I'm sorry," she says softly. "I just couldn't sit by and let something happen."
"I know," Vaughn replies guiltily. "That's the same reason I got so mad. I don't want you to get hurt."
"I can take care of myself, you know," she says, with considerably less conviction than she would have used only days earlier.
******************************************************************************************
"Laura, I'll make you a deal," Vaughn says over lunch. Once they'd gone to sleep, they'd slept until 11:00.
"What?" she asks, glad to break the tense silence.
"You swear to me that you'll let me handle things like what happened last night from now on unless absolutely necessary…" He paused, letting that sink in. "And I'll take you to the CIA shooting range and we'll see what you know."
"Really?" Laura asks in disbelief. "You will?"
Vaughn nods.
"I promise! I only want to be able to protect myself! And then I'll know for sure if I can shoot…"
"That's what this is. I want both of us to know exactly what you're capable of," Vaughn says seriously.
"When?" Laura is excited, even though she knows this is serious. She's always had an interest in guns, even though her mother lectured her endlessly about how dangerous they were. Probably *because* she lectured her endlessly.
"As soon as possible," Vaughn replies. "Today, if I can make the arrangements. Which shouldn't be a problem since Kendall knows what you did last night," he adds pointedly.
******************************************************************************************
Now that we're really here, I'm pretty nervous. I've never shot a gun before, never even handled one until last night. May be Daddy's right. May be I was stupid to mess with that gun.
As soon as we walk in, the man running the place walks up to Daddy. He gives the two of us those protective earmuffs, and Daddy shows him the CIA issue gun he's going to let me use.
Before we start, Daddy explains that the targets are on tracts hanging from the ceiling. They're made of cheap wood, so they show where the bullets hit. He won't tell me anything else. He's really testing to see how much I know. I suppress a grin as he watches me go through checking to be sure the gun is loaded and everything. I know he expected to have to help me. The look on his face says plain as day that he's surprised. I can't help a cocky grin in his direction.
Daddy stands behind me while I watch for the first target. When it swings down, I shoot. The grouping is terrible. Four of the shots were embedded in one or the other shoulder, while two missed altogether. And the target was nearly on top of me before I got off all six shots.
I watch Daddy out of the corner of my eye as I reload. He's not at all surprised that my accuracy is really bad. He does seem impressed that I manage to reload without help, even if it did take nearly five minutes with me fighting the whole time. I wouldn't have asked for his help if it had taken hours, and he probably wouldn't have offered, either.
The second time, all six shots hit the target, at least. Only one is in the chest, and then only just barely. By the fifth round, though, Daddy is definitely impressed. Five of the shots hit in the chest, and at least two of them would have been fatal.
I admit it, I'm proud of myself. To have never even touched a gun before and have five chest shots on the fifth round fired must be pretty good.
"So?" I ask, removing the ear muffs.
"You're better than I expected," he admits reluctantly. "You're fairly accurate, very accurate for an amateur, and your time is good. A lot of people have trouble getting the shots off fast."
"And?" I prompt.
"And…I'm impressed," he sighs.
"Thank you," I say smugly.
"That doesn't mean you can carry a gun," he says sharply. "Your promise still applies, even if you could get a tight grouping in under three seconds, which you can't. This is still a last result."
"I promised, and I'll keep my promise," I say defensively.
He holds my look for a long time before he finally looks away, satisfied that I mean it.
"Come on, Weiss and Brandon will tear the house apart if we don't get back," he says.
"Let me shoot one more round. Please?"
"Okay. One more. I don't want you getting too cocky," he agreed.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Cute, no? Please review!
