Disclaimer: I do not own the JAG characters, but I do own any original
characters that you see here.
Shout Outs:
gHeTtOnErD: Hey thanks for the review and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
et-spiritus-sancti: I am glad it made you tremble, that was the exact reaction I was hoping. Hope you like this chapter and sorry it took longer than I thought, damn computer problems.
Hermiine: I am glad you like the first chapter and hope you enjoy the second. Thanks for the review.
CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur: Yeah, I am glad you are hooked and I hope you stay hooked. Keep reviewing.
DD2: here is the next chapter and I hope you enjoy.
Lauren: Harm and Mac will be involved, don't' worry and thanks for the review.
Bubbles: Here is your chapter tow, enjoy.
Isabel did not feel like going to school the next morning. She knew all to well that it would be too difficult and everyone would talk about her behind her back. So to her, the only decision would be to stay home.
It was around ten when she finally heard the front door slam and the sound of her stepfather's old pickup start. She stretched for a minute and crawled out of her bed. Her pair of red pajama pants with penguins and long black shirt with the name of her favorite band, plus her favorite pair of toe socks, they had monkeys she changed from her normal sleeping cloths. She like to lounge in these and she figured now was as good as time as any to lounge.
She slowly crept down the hallway and stairs and made her way to the kitchen. She took out a bowl, spoon, milk, and cereal in almost complete silence. She had gotten a lot of practice over the years. She could get around her house in almost complete silence, for she had always feared her stepfather, after he beat her one time for waking him up. After that she practiced when he wasn't home getting around her house quietly. Now it seems more like a habit then a precaution.
After she finished eating she climbed the stairs slowly. She was going to go read in her room, but her feat seemed to stop automatically at her mother's door. Her mother and stepfather had slept in different rooms for the last year and a half.
Taking a deep breath she slowly pushed the door open and stairs at the room. It is exactly as her mother had left it, tidy and smelling of flowers. Pictures lined the wall of her. From when she was very young to this years school picture. She moved towards her dresser and touched the cloths tenderly.
Isabel moved towards the closet and opened the door slowly. All of her mothers cloths were hung neatly by size and color order. She touched the cloths gently moved her fingers across them, causing them to sway. She smiled when she reached her mothers favorite dress and took and laid it on the bed.
She opened the drawer to her mother nightstand and noticed a small box that she had never seen before. She pulled it out and noticed it was locked. She reached her hand further back into the drawer until her fingers clasped around a small key. She prayed that this was the key and a small smile crossed her face when the lock let go.
She opened the box gently, making sure she didn't break it. She found dozens of letters that were written by some man. However the part of the letters that caught her attention the most was name of the guy that it was from. She had always known that her mother had, had a short fling with a guy, in which she came about and her mother had given her, her fathers last name, but that was the extent of what she knew.
She read each letter and they were all signed by a man named "Master Chief Bud Roberts." Each letter seemed to be offering money for what she could only assume was her. She also learned that he was a married man and had two boys of his own. She began to shift through the letters until she found a sealed envelop with her name on it.
She turned the letter over and over, trying to figure why there was a letter addressed to her among all these letters by her father. She took a deep breath and opened the letter slowly, trying to make it look as clean as she could. Inside was her mother's favorite stationary and covered in her mother's elegant handwriting.
My daughter,
If you are reading this letter before your eighteenth birthday, then I can only wonder the circumstances in which you have found this box. There is no doubt in my mine that you have read all the other letters and I am glad that you have.
That man, who wrote to me, is you father and he does know of your existence, but you two have never met. However, recently I have tried to find him again and I think I might have. I've found out the man by the name of Bud Roberts is working at the JAG offices in Falls Church, Virginia.
Whether or not this man is your father I am not sure, for I have never been able to find out more than that. Yet here is a start in finding the rest of your family.
Under my mattress is an envelope full of money. How much is in there I can not tell, considering I am not sure how long after I wrote this letter that you have found it.
I love you my daughter and I am always proud of you and if I am no longer there with you on earth, know I am forever watching over you.
Love always,
Your mother
Isabel read this letter again and again. She reached under her mother's mattress and her hand found a thick envelop. Pulling it out she found more money then she had ever seen in her entire life. She began to wonder how long her mother had been saving and she put it into her back pocket.
She put all the letters back into the box and closed it and placed the key into her pocket. She once again began to look around the room and there were so many memories. She got her mothers robe and wrapped it around her and laid down in her mother's bed. Being by herself, Isabel did not try to hide the tears that now flowed freely from her eyes. She held the robe close to her and longed for her mother to be in it so she would not longer be alone. She fell asleep crying and thinking of her mother.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING IN HERE?" Came a voice from the door. Isabel jumped awake and looked up in shock. "HOW DARE YOU COME IN HERE."
"I'm...I'm...I'm sorry...I was...I...I...just...just..." Isabel stammered, pushing the box and robe behind her.
"Shut up bitch." Her stepfather said slapping her across the face. Isabel's hand went up to protect her face. "Get the hell out." He grabbed her by the back of her hair and pulled her out the door and threw her into the wall outside the door. She had been able to grab the robe and box.
Her face now began to swell, a hand mark on her left cheek and a cut above her right brow where she had hit her head on the wall. Her stepfather had locked himself in her mother's room and she occasionally herd sounds coming from behind the closed door. Once she even thought she heard crying.
She knew she could no longer stay here and the money that her mother had left her, plus the one clue she had to finding her only family left in the world was all she needed to giver her that push to go. She grabbed her duffle bag and filled it with two extra outfits, underwear, and socks. She also put in a small blanket her mother had made her called a no sew. Pictures of her friends and of course her mother were also put into the bag. The robe and box as well. She closed the bag slowly and threw it in her closet. She wouldn't leave until she could get back into her mother's room one last time.
That time finally came around one when she finally heard her stepfather drag himself back into his own room. She opened the door as quietly as she could and didn't even bother turning the light on for she knew where everything was. She grabbed her mother's jewelry and favorite hair clip. She also grabbed her mother's favorite book that lay under her pillow. Its pages were torn and worn from many hours of her sitting up and reading.
She grabbed a few of her baby pictures from the wall as well as her birth certificate and security card her mother had in a picture frame in her top drawer. Her mother said she framed it to keep it dust free, but didn't show it because no one was to know of her father. She grabbed a few other things and walked towards the door. She turned on the light and looked at the room carefully. She felt like crying and she knew she needed to be going. She shut the light off and went back into her room. She dropped the items onto her bed and the opening of her door made her turn.
"I thought I told ya to stay out of her room." Said her stepfather drunkly. He staggered towards her, his fist rising. Isabel backed into a corner and waited for the punch to come. It finally did a few seconds later as did a second, third, fourth and fifth. Her body aced from the punches, but after the fifth he backed off. "Next time listen to what I say." He staggered back out of the room.
Her stomach now had a large black and blue where four of the punches had hit and her face turned bright red form where the other had hit. She finished packing the last of her things in her backpack and waited another hour before finally getting the courage to walk out the door.
Her body ached as she walked down the street and the cold air froze her nose and ears. She pulled the hood to her sweatshirt above her head and felt some of her body heat return. She had brought two of extra large sweatshirts, one in which she was wearing and one in her bag. She made her way slowly towards the bus station and did not arrive until sunrise hours later.
Shout Outs:
gHeTtOnErD: Hey thanks for the review and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
et-spiritus-sancti: I am glad it made you tremble, that was the exact reaction I was hoping. Hope you like this chapter and sorry it took longer than I thought, damn computer problems.
Hermiine: I am glad you like the first chapter and hope you enjoy the second. Thanks for the review.
CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur: Yeah, I am glad you are hooked and I hope you stay hooked. Keep reviewing.
DD2: here is the next chapter and I hope you enjoy.
Lauren: Harm and Mac will be involved, don't' worry and thanks for the review.
Bubbles: Here is your chapter tow, enjoy.
Isabel did not feel like going to school the next morning. She knew all to well that it would be too difficult and everyone would talk about her behind her back. So to her, the only decision would be to stay home.
It was around ten when she finally heard the front door slam and the sound of her stepfather's old pickup start. She stretched for a minute and crawled out of her bed. Her pair of red pajama pants with penguins and long black shirt with the name of her favorite band, plus her favorite pair of toe socks, they had monkeys she changed from her normal sleeping cloths. She like to lounge in these and she figured now was as good as time as any to lounge.
She slowly crept down the hallway and stairs and made her way to the kitchen. She took out a bowl, spoon, milk, and cereal in almost complete silence. She had gotten a lot of practice over the years. She could get around her house in almost complete silence, for she had always feared her stepfather, after he beat her one time for waking him up. After that she practiced when he wasn't home getting around her house quietly. Now it seems more like a habit then a precaution.
After she finished eating she climbed the stairs slowly. She was going to go read in her room, but her feat seemed to stop automatically at her mother's door. Her mother and stepfather had slept in different rooms for the last year and a half.
Taking a deep breath she slowly pushed the door open and stairs at the room. It is exactly as her mother had left it, tidy and smelling of flowers. Pictures lined the wall of her. From when she was very young to this years school picture. She moved towards her dresser and touched the cloths tenderly.
Isabel moved towards the closet and opened the door slowly. All of her mothers cloths were hung neatly by size and color order. She touched the cloths gently moved her fingers across them, causing them to sway. She smiled when she reached her mothers favorite dress and took and laid it on the bed.
She opened the drawer to her mother nightstand and noticed a small box that she had never seen before. She pulled it out and noticed it was locked. She reached her hand further back into the drawer until her fingers clasped around a small key. She prayed that this was the key and a small smile crossed her face when the lock let go.
She opened the box gently, making sure she didn't break it. She found dozens of letters that were written by some man. However the part of the letters that caught her attention the most was name of the guy that it was from. She had always known that her mother had, had a short fling with a guy, in which she came about and her mother had given her, her fathers last name, but that was the extent of what she knew.
She read each letter and they were all signed by a man named "Master Chief Bud Roberts." Each letter seemed to be offering money for what she could only assume was her. She also learned that he was a married man and had two boys of his own. She began to shift through the letters until she found a sealed envelop with her name on it.
She turned the letter over and over, trying to figure why there was a letter addressed to her among all these letters by her father. She took a deep breath and opened the letter slowly, trying to make it look as clean as she could. Inside was her mother's favorite stationary and covered in her mother's elegant handwriting.
My daughter,
If you are reading this letter before your eighteenth birthday, then I can only wonder the circumstances in which you have found this box. There is no doubt in my mine that you have read all the other letters and I am glad that you have.
That man, who wrote to me, is you father and he does know of your existence, but you two have never met. However, recently I have tried to find him again and I think I might have. I've found out the man by the name of Bud Roberts is working at the JAG offices in Falls Church, Virginia.
Whether or not this man is your father I am not sure, for I have never been able to find out more than that. Yet here is a start in finding the rest of your family.
Under my mattress is an envelope full of money. How much is in there I can not tell, considering I am not sure how long after I wrote this letter that you have found it.
I love you my daughter and I am always proud of you and if I am no longer there with you on earth, know I am forever watching over you.
Love always,
Your mother
Isabel read this letter again and again. She reached under her mother's mattress and her hand found a thick envelop. Pulling it out she found more money then she had ever seen in her entire life. She began to wonder how long her mother had been saving and she put it into her back pocket.
She put all the letters back into the box and closed it and placed the key into her pocket. She once again began to look around the room and there were so many memories. She got her mothers robe and wrapped it around her and laid down in her mother's bed. Being by herself, Isabel did not try to hide the tears that now flowed freely from her eyes. She held the robe close to her and longed for her mother to be in it so she would not longer be alone. She fell asleep crying and thinking of her mother.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING IN HERE?" Came a voice from the door. Isabel jumped awake and looked up in shock. "HOW DARE YOU COME IN HERE."
"I'm...I'm...I'm sorry...I was...I...I...just...just..." Isabel stammered, pushing the box and robe behind her.
"Shut up bitch." Her stepfather said slapping her across the face. Isabel's hand went up to protect her face. "Get the hell out." He grabbed her by the back of her hair and pulled her out the door and threw her into the wall outside the door. She had been able to grab the robe and box.
Her face now began to swell, a hand mark on her left cheek and a cut above her right brow where she had hit her head on the wall. Her stepfather had locked himself in her mother's room and she occasionally herd sounds coming from behind the closed door. Once she even thought she heard crying.
She knew she could no longer stay here and the money that her mother had left her, plus the one clue she had to finding her only family left in the world was all she needed to giver her that push to go. She grabbed her duffle bag and filled it with two extra outfits, underwear, and socks. She also put in a small blanket her mother had made her called a no sew. Pictures of her friends and of course her mother were also put into the bag. The robe and box as well. She closed the bag slowly and threw it in her closet. She wouldn't leave until she could get back into her mother's room one last time.
That time finally came around one when she finally heard her stepfather drag himself back into his own room. She opened the door as quietly as she could and didn't even bother turning the light on for she knew where everything was. She grabbed her mother's jewelry and favorite hair clip. She also grabbed her mother's favorite book that lay under her pillow. Its pages were torn and worn from many hours of her sitting up and reading.
She grabbed a few of her baby pictures from the wall as well as her birth certificate and security card her mother had in a picture frame in her top drawer. Her mother said she framed it to keep it dust free, but didn't show it because no one was to know of her father. She grabbed a few other things and walked towards the door. She turned on the light and looked at the room carefully. She felt like crying and she knew she needed to be going. She shut the light off and went back into her room. She dropped the items onto her bed and the opening of her door made her turn.
"I thought I told ya to stay out of her room." Said her stepfather drunkly. He staggered towards her, his fist rising. Isabel backed into a corner and waited for the punch to come. It finally did a few seconds later as did a second, third, fourth and fifth. Her body aced from the punches, but after the fifth he backed off. "Next time listen to what I say." He staggered back out of the room.
Her stomach now had a large black and blue where four of the punches had hit and her face turned bright red form where the other had hit. She finished packing the last of her things in her backpack and waited another hour before finally getting the courage to walk out the door.
Her body ached as she walked down the street and the cold air froze her nose and ears. She pulled the hood to her sweatshirt above her head and felt some of her body heat return. She had brought two of extra large sweatshirts, one in which she was wearing and one in her bag. She made her way slowly towards the bus station and did not arrive until sunrise hours later.
