Author: Penny

Title: Redux

Disclaimer: I will neve be JJ Abrams. Perhaps, I might be the "Next" JJ Abrams one day, but I will never be JJ Abrams.

Rating: PG/PG-13

Redux: Prologue

Frankly, life has been a bitch since Mom died four years ago, leaving me alone the world at the age of sixteen when I needed her the most. She missed it all: prom, gradutation, acceptance letters, saying goodbye, marriage, kids. It hit us hard, Mom could do anything; she was intelligent, talented, beautiful, and healthy. She was a walking, talking, living Diana Prince. She was suppose to live forever, not die in a house fire.

Vaughn -- I call my Dad, Vaughn, because that´s what Mom called him; and by the time I realized I should address him as daddy or dad or father, it was too late. He was Vaughn. However, he never seemed to mind; he would just smile, kiss my forehead, and gently pull my pigtails.

Vaughn and I went skiing at Killington for the weekend, just the two of us, and had an amazing time. Perhaps too amazing because when we returned home the house was gone and Mom was dead. The two cats, Westley and Buttercup, survived.

Vaughn worshipped my mother. When she died his spirit died with her. The two of us got throught the funeral and wake with façades and civil conversation, but it all fell apart afterwards.

I have a feeling he always liked her better than me. He loved me and was the best father I could have hoped for, but there was something about mom he never felt about me; it´s almost as if he loved me, but he liked her. I do not exactly know, but something always felt off.

Everything was off after the accident. Vaughn worked long hours at the State Department and drank scotch behind the close doors of his office where he believe I did not know what he was doing. But, I found the empty bottles.

I was in pain too, for God´s sake. I wanted to scream at him: I loved her too, but I just started to ingore him. Sometimes I would want to talk, but all he wanted was Mom. Finally about a month later, I told him to fuck off; after that our dinners were slient.

Despite the systematic destruction of our relationship, he agreed to pay for my college education at George Washigton University. The day he dropped me off at the freshman dorms he told me he loved me and was proud of me. Clinging to him, I wanted to cry and tell him she is not coming back and we need to get through this together and I want him to stop being stupid because I still love him and someday it will all be okay.

Pride and pessimism stopped me. Why should I crack? He was the one being an asshole, plus he probably only said it because he knew he was going to be alone in that apartment and was only reaching out for his own selfness needs. He could go to Hell for all I cared. I did not tell him I loved him back. Instead I told him I planned on interning, and I would only be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas (even though we lived in the same city).

A quarter of the way into my first semster Alex Peterson and I started dating. I spent holidays with his family until we broke up a couple months ago for one reason: I didn´t want to get married. He was a couple years ago and wanted the whole nine yards. I wanted a career, so we went our seperate ways. What can you say, it was not meant to be (not to mention growing up with my parents, I wanted what they had, and more).

After breaking up with Alex, I was just a sophomore at GWU, double majoring in political science and intentional affairs and minoring in economics with no boyfriend, no father, no roommate, and no job. I just had a lot of papers to write and coffee to drink.

On the week of first semester finals a man I have never met before asked I was Alicia Vaughn. I nodded and he handed me his card. Having my quarter-life crisis five years early, obviously I was going to accept the offer from the man in the black trenchcoat and sunglasses claiming to be CIA.

First, I thought it was a joke; next, I thought it was an elaborate hoax to get me alone and rape me; then, I realized he was serious after about five hundred questions (ranging from the stupid, if you are CIA, who is the current DCI, to important, why the hell are you asking me? I did not apply. Aren´t I a little young?).

I fit a Profile. Whatever the hell that means.

But as I stared at the business card with the address, musing about my father´s job at the State Department, it didn´t seem so crazy. Plus not all CIA was James Bond, lots of the employees were analysists and I wanted to work for some branch of the government to begin with. Why not the CIA?

And, I bet they have great Dental.

I went to the address. After months of tests and waiting and background checks, I got the phone call saying I was being shipped to The Farm. Perfecting time, too, classes just ended for the year. So, I am going to be a CIA officer, if I pass training. There are worse jobs in the world.

And Vaughn? I haven´t told Vaughn yet. Let him find out when I´m field certifiated.

TBC...