Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
By
E. S. Young
Chapter Thirteen: Startling Realizations
Woo hoo! The bold, italics, and underlining is working for me! Correction. They're still (look! I used italics just then!) working for me! D!!! I've been at for almost two years and not once has that worked for me. And now it suddenly does . . . . (looks around nervously) Geh, I don't wanna jinx myself so I'll just end this here, write this chapter, then thank my reviewers, and be happy that you guys can finally read my stories the way I wanted you to read them. )
"I hope you don't have allergies, Fusco," Sands said to Liam. He entered the back door of their house, pulling off his false facial hair as he strode through the kitchen.
"Why?" the younger agent asked, perplexed.
"My sister's decided she wanted a pet."
Liam only blinked in confusion.
Sands rolled his eyes at this but pointed outside nonetheless. Coming up the small walkway were Zebbidy (her bemused stare in place as always), a slightly exasperated Lynné, and a little girl with pale blonde curls and huge brown eyes. What struck Liam as strange was not the fact that his partner had brought a child home but the fact that the little girl swung a long wooden cane around in front of her as she walked.
"What . . . where did she . . . how??" he stammered, looking to Sands for help. The other agent shrugged before ducking inside the refrigerator.
"She's Alphonse Poisson's niece, making her Édouard Poisson's granddaughter. See where I'm goin' with this?"
Liam nodded distractedly, saying, "Yeah, I see, but how did Lynné find her? Did she kidnap her or what?"
"From what Lyn said in the car," Sands' somewhat muffled voice drawled, "the kid had run into her twice before on coincidence. Then she met her again today at the Louvre and, ah, informed her that the Poissons knew alllll about her."
While all of this worried Liam a great deal, Sands seemed strangely unperturbed by the sudden turn of events. He emerged from the 'fridge smiling in satisfaction at the pineapple in his hand.
Thought she bought one of these.
And just what are you gonna do with it, smart-ass?
Wellll . . . I'm gonna wail it at somebody's head, that's what I'm gonna do, he snickered sadistically.
That's insane, you know, the voice informed him, It doesn't make any Goddamn sense. . . . are you drunk?
'I might have had one or two shots, what're you getting at?'
The voice let out a disgusted sigh.
You ass.
"That ass!" Lynné cussed as she stormed through the back door. The little girl followed suit, whacking Liam with her cane in the process.
"Ah!" the agent gasped, his hands flying to his left kneecap as he cringed in pain.
"Désolé!" (Sorry!) the little girl exclaimed, her eyes wide with fright. She was in a room full of Americans who were trying to destroy her family – if one could call them that – and she hadn't a clue as to where she was. Worst of all, she couldn't see. She had lost that sense when she had lost her parents. But did these people know that? They had to; they worked for le gouvernement américain. The American government.
From what she had heard Uncle Alphonse say, the government knew everything about a person, even if they chose to deny it. They took in regular people who had what was called 'potential,' trained them up a bit, then sent them out on missions. And when those people emerged from training, they were changed; they had been turned into machines that would kill innocents without a second look. What was stopping them from doing the same to her?
"Je suis désolé tellement," (I'm so sorry,) she stammered apologetically, "Je ne pouvais pas vous voir . . ." (I couldn't see you . . .)
"It's okay, um . . . honey," Liam assured her uncertainly. Zebbidy found herself wanting to laugh at the scene before her but succeeded in stifling the sudden urge. Leaning back against the kitchen counter, Sands was having a harder time hiding his amusement. Lyn, however, found no humor in any of this as she was having an agitated conversation with someone on her cell phone.
"I'm not saying that the Poissons know, Cat, just that it sounds that way. . . . . Catherine, you're getting too worked up over this. . . . . . If you start to cry, then you'll be turning into Grace. Do you really wanna go there? . . . . . I thought not. Now listen, all I gathered is that the Poissons know of me, all right? And they want me 'taken care of,' so to speak. What I need you and your bumbling team of incompetent schnooks to do is go out and find out as much as you can on the Poissons. What they know, what they don't know, how close they are – well, then we need an update, Cat," Lynné spat, vehemence prominent in her voice. "Contrary to popular belief, I can't do all of this by myself. . . . . Fine. . . . Fine. . . . All right . . . 'Bye."
"Ah, sibling rivalry," Sands mused wistfully as he sliced up his pineapple, "No family relationship can be without it."
"Cat's not my sibling," Lyn muttered half-heartedly. She sighed and rubbed her eyes, feeling a sudden wave of fatigue hit her. "The Company's decided to worm their way into my operation again," she explained tiredly, "Apparently, they don't care for the way I handle things. And they were none too happy when I missed my meeting with one of the agents today."
"So they're pinning this on you," Sands stated rather than asked.
His sister laughed bleakly.
"As usual. I'm just surprised they haven't started on you."
"Oh, don't worry," Sands assured her confidently, "They will."
"Why would they do that?" Zebbidy wondered.
"Sands and I aren't exactly the CIA's favorite people," Lyn explained evenly. "I mean, let's face it, you can't see either of us being 'Agent of the Year,' can you?"
"There's an agent of the year?" Zebbidy questioned skeptically.
Sands and Lynné both paused in what they were doing (cutting a fruit into quarters and playing with a cell phone) to look Zebbidy's way and give her a 'yeah, right' expression.
"Lynné and Sands are sort of . . . well, nuisances at the CIA," Liam filled her in, his blue eyes darting nervously from his partner, to Sands, and back to Zebbidy again. Beside him, the little girl was wringing the hem of her lavender colored shirt between her fingers. Her brown eyes were large and fretful.
"They're excellent at what they do," Liam added hurriedly.
"Aww," Lyn cooed, a false smile on her face.
"I'm touched, Fusco, deeply." Sands told him before rolling his eyes and turning back to his pineapple. Liam shook his head at them.
"But, yeah, the Company doesn't care for how they go about things," he explained to Zebbidy, who nodded slowly in understanding.
"Well, that explains why they're stationed on the other side of the world, then," she said, grinning at the two agents in question.
Sands shrugged and tossed his diced pineapple into a small bowl. Having nothing to throw at Zebbidy that would contradict her comment, Lynné pocketed the idea and sat down at the breakfast nook. She fiddled with her cellular for a brief period; a second later, her eyes trailed away from the small black phone and landed on the child.
Yeeaah . . . almost forgot about her didn't ya?
She had. But she knew why she had brought the kid along. The little girl was useful and if her family was after them, then Lynné would do whatever it took to bring them down. Fast and hard.
"What's your name, kid?"
The child's head snapped up. Her sightless eyes started up at Lyn intently.
"Joséphine," she answered softly. "J'ai six ans, juste donc vous savez." (I'm six, just so you know.)
"And you're Édouard Poisson's granddaughter," Lyn said slowly.
"Oui."
"Niece of Alphonse Poisson," she concluded.
"Oui, et il me déteste!" (Yes, and he hates me!) the girl, Joséphine, blurted, suddenly finding her voice.
"Where would you get that idea, sweetie?" a sympathetic Zebbidy asked, gliding over to Joséphine and putting a consoling hand on her shoulder. To her surprise, the child gave a small jump. Her head whipped around, her dark eyes searching for something she couldn't see.
"It's okay, dear," Zebbidy said soothingly, trying her best not to startle the child. If what she said was true, then Poisson and his men could be on top of them as they sat around their kitchen leisurely eating fruit. Her bright green eyes flickered to Sands momentarily but they quickly honed in on Joséphine.
"Qui sont tous d'entre vous?" (Who are all of you?) the child breathed uncertainly.
"Oh," Zebbidy gasped, realizing something, "I guess it would lessen the confusion if you knew who you were dealing with . . ."
The girl nodded silently.
"You can remember us by how our voices sound, I'm sure," Zebbidy said.
Again, the girl nodded.
"Okay, well, Lynné --"
"She knows me," Lyn cut in, picking at a hangnail and looking completely bored the entire time.
"Oui," Joséphine murmured, pushing a light curl out of her face.
"Okay," Zebbidy continued, smiling gently. "I'm Zebbidy –"
The little girl's eyes expanded considerably at this.
"Grand-père – " (Grandfather –) she began excitedly, but Zebbidy quickly shushed her.
"Yes. But you can't tell anyone that."
"Je comprends," (I understand,) Joséphine told her sincerely.
"Good. Umm . . . Liam, he's the one who you, uh –"
"Hit with your cane," Liam jumped in, smiling slightly. "It's okay, though. You just tapped me."
Joséphine gave him a look that said the obvious.
"C'est que j'essayais de faire, le monsieur." (That's what I was trying to do, mister.)
Liam held up his hands and retreated a few steps. Despite the fact that he knew the girl couldn't see him, he wanted the others to know he was backing off. Extending a small arm, Joséphine pointed in the direction she had heard someone's voice coming from. It was the sort of like the one the woman she had met, Lynné, had only it was blatant that it belonged to a man.
"Et lui?" (And him?) she wanted to know.
"That's . . . . Sands," Zebbidy answered, looking at said man questioningly. "And I . . . don't know him by any other name."
"And you won't," Sands stated plainly. He paused for a moment, considering. "Unless you and I ever danced the forbidden dance, of course," he added, grinning wickedly.
Zebbidy arched an eyebrow, her nose twitched, and she calmly reached up and covered Joséphine's sensitive ears.
"Even if you and I ever did go there, baby, you'd only learn my middle name. Hate to disappoint you."
"That's fine," Zebbidy replied coolly, "I like a man of mystery."
Now Sands raised his brows, taking in the woman as if considering her as a possible bedmate.
Don't go brushing that one aside, the voice warned, I'm sure she could be a real tiger-ess if she wanted. Grrr.
Oh you are sick, Sands cringed. Admittedly, I can be less than charming but at least sex isn't what I'm all about. What would you say if I told you that I would just like to lay in front of a roaring fire with her and talk the night away with discussions about our feelings?
There was a very long pause.
Time passed, and then Sands and the voice (mentally) burst out laughing. Meanwhile, at the kitchen table, Lyn was doing a fairly good job at hiding her own snickers. Liam, on the other hand, went through his normal routine.
'Which is: Blink in confusion, panic, rub right arm unconsciously, then panic some more,' Lyn thought with boredom. But her partner's antics humored her to no end, so she allowed her partner to perform his quirks and she herself watched them in her own perverse amusement.
Slowly, Zebbidy removed her hands from Joséphine's ears. The girl looked around at the four agents, her expression was both confused and questioning at the same time.
"Qui sont vous . . . ? Qui vous a envoyé ici?" (Who are you . . . ? Who sent you here?) she asked tentatively.
Liam, Sands, and Lynné all exchanged a dark look. Clearly, the thought of telling the girl that they were CIA wasn't high on their list of ideas. She may have told them that Poisson was aware of their presence and what they were trying to do, she may even let them in on some of the Mafia man's latest plans, but they couldn't take a chance in trusting her even if she was just a little girl.
So, what . . . ? You're going to kill her?
No! She didn't care for kids all that much – they bugged the hell out of her most of the time – but Lynné was outraged at the voice for even promoting such an idea. Murdering children was not her forte, no matter how much they got on her nerves.
What then?
We simply tell her were someone else.
I don't think she's gonna believe that, Lynnie.
I have to at least see if she's naïve enough to fall for something else.
Slowly, Lyn kneeled down until she was level with Joséphine Poisson. Since Lynné made no sound whenever she moved, she nearly scared the little girl out of her wits when she spoke.
"Josey – if you don't mind me calling you that – did anyone ever tell you who I was?"
The girl shook her head.
"Non, j'ai seulement entendu de vous la nuit dernière. Même alors ils n'ont pas utilisé votre nom, mais, comme j'ai dit, je vous ai entendus sur un enregistrement et j'ai reconnu votre voix." (No, I only heard about you last night. Even then they didn't use your name, but, like I said, I heard you on a recording and I recognized your voice.)
"Did they ever mention who I was working for?"
To everyone's horror, Joséphine nodded eagerly.
"Oui, pour le gouvernement américain. Je ne sais pas juste lequel." (Yes, for the American government. I just don't know which one.)
From his position at the counter, Sands slowly closed his eyes. This just wasn't his day . . . week . . . mission . . . Whatever it was, things were not going his way. Worst of all, the CIA knew it, and they were gonna be on his ass faster than the middle aged, wind suit-wearing women that tried to jam into K Mart on Black Friday.
The droning of the anchorman blared on, his bland voice boring all of them into a stupor. Needless to say, it wasn't long before Lynné decided to start a game of poker, Zebbidy joined her, Liam had retrieved his beloved laptop, and Sands pulled out a book he had been reading ('Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey into the Heart of the American Dream'). Joséphine had fallen asleep leaning up against him some time ago, much to Sands' chagrin, but Lyn and Zebbidy had reached what Sands considered to be a women's mutual truce. They had banned together and ganged up on him, both agreeing that he should leave the child alone, and thus, he was stuck. Stealing a quick look at the child next to him, Sands held back a grimace.
Snot-nosed little monkey, he thought blandly, At least she's clean . . .
Sands glanced up at the TV. Nothing stimulating; nothing thought-provoking. Nothing the news held grabbed at his attention. Back to the book, then. At least it sparked his interest.
A small chime echoed throughout the living room, alerting everyone that someone had just sent an Instant Message. Lynné and Zebbidy looked up from their game of poker to shoot irate glances in Liam's direction, or, more specifically, the direction of his laptop. He had set it up on the coffee table so he would not be separated from the other four.
"Who is it?" Sands inquired, not looking up from his book.
"Your si – step-sister," Liam amended with a small sigh. He wasn't too crazy about Catherine either.
"Why is that girl in the CIA?" Lyn asked no one in particular, splaying her cards between her fingers.
"Calmness, Lyn," Sands said, bored, "At least they gave her a desk job."
"True," his sister admitted, laying a card face up on the coffee table. Across from her, Zebbidy scowled at it. "They could've sent her out into the world . . . imagine what that would be like." Lyn shuddered.
"Don't want to," Sands replied.
"What does she have to say, Liam?" Lyn wanted to know.
A second chime rang before her partner answered.
"She says that she wants to meet you –"
"Not happening."
"—and Sands –"
"Nooo . . ." Sands moaned gravely, shaking his head.
"— at La Notre Dame. "
"So original," Lynné muttered.
"Tomorrow."
Lyn sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose and ignoring the strange looks Zebbidy was giving the three of them.
"Tell her we'll be there . . ." she said slowly.
But only if she makes sure she's absent.
Yeah, the voice agreed enthusiastically, tell 'er to send someone else.
Can't, darlin,' sorry. Knowing my stepsibling, Cat'd never go for it.
Ahhh, you're no fun.
Think of it this way . . . . If I do go and she's there . . . then I can at least show up looking as unprofessional as possible and feed her a few lines of bullshit that're bound to piss her off.
Hmm . . . tempting . . . . And I do so love to torment Cat. . . . . All right. Tell her you'll be there.
"Okay, I told her," Liam said brightly.
If it was capable, Lynné was sure that the voice would be making a horrible face at Liam right then.
"What are we gonna do about the kid?" Sands spoke up, motioning to the sleeping girl. As if hearing her name, Joséphine shifted into a more comfortable position, still using Sands as a pillow the entire time. Said agent rolled his eyes at her.
"We gonna tell her?" he asked.
"Come on, Sands, you know Cat. She'll wheedle all the information she can out of her and then dump her in an orphanage."
"And you suddenly care if that happens?" Liam asked, grinning.
"I just don't want Catherine to be the one pumping her for info," Lynné replied, narrowing her eyes at him. "If anyone's gonna do that, it'll be an expert."
"Namely you?" Zebbidy questioned, eyebrows raised.
"If you knew our stepsister, then you'd agree that she's no negotiator," Sands informed her before submerging himself in his book once again.
"Example," Lyn began. When she spoke again, her entire attitude had changed. Suddenly she now spoke in a high, friendly voice complete with feigned sweetness. "Ohhh . . . hi, Joséphine! May I call you Josey? Okay! Say, d'you think you can tell me alllll about your grandpa? Like how much he knows, what he's planing to do, what kind of hookers he likes – that sorta thing. Think you can help me out a little, honey? Huh?"
Sands smirked from behind his book, marveling at the Lynn's uncanny imitation of Catherine. Liam continued to type away at his computer but he too was biting back a laugh. A smile creeping across her visage, Zebbidy waved her cards in Lyn's face, indicating that she wanted to get back to their game.
We've been in this house together for too long, she thought absently, though she was surprised to notice that not a trace of regret lingered in her voice. Liam isn't as twitchy around me as he used to be, Lynn's all right, and I'm even beginning to tolerate Sands.
Oh, hell, I more than tolerate him, let's be honest.
She wasn't in love with the man or anything – such thoughts hadn't even crossed her mind until now – but, still . . . living with him wasn't so terrible. The idea even had its perks, though Zebbidy wasn't about to yield to any of them. Nor would she accept what some of them might be. Still, it was nice to know that she could now be in the same room with the man for over an hour without wanting to slap him silly.
From his position on the couch, Sands eyes hovered momentarily on his sister's and Zebbidy's card game. Cards was something their father didn't approve of, in fact, he had forbid it, so, of course, Sands and his sister had made sure they were experts in such games as poker, bridge, and gin rummy. Lyn was going to whoop Zeb's ass, no question.
Zebbidy wasn't half bad, though, he had to admit. But Lynn's sheer determination not to loose would make sure that she would defeat her opponent as she always did, whether it be in a simple game of cards or gunfight like one would see in the old Westerns, she would win. But something about the idea of Zebbidy beating Lynné intrigued Sands, and he was not sure why.
Oooh . . . rooting for the other girl now, are ya? the voice chided. Y'know what you should do? Wait 'til it rains really hard, and then go out into the back yard, and coax them into mud wrestling. Two gorgeous women covered in mud . . . God that would be hot –
One of those gorgeous women happens to be my sister, so if you'd kindly back off –
Oh, come on. Like you've never wanted to see Lyn na–
Christ, will you shut up!?
Zebbidy, then.
He could have just admitted it, and why not? It wasn't like telling the flat out truth was a new thing to him. He did it a lot just to startle people because they thought he would lie to them. But for some reason, he would not bring himself to acquiesce to certain things; it would feel as if he had given in, like he had lost to the voice. So much like his sister, Sands didn't like loosing.
At some point throughout this mental fiasco, Joséphine seemed to have sensed something wasn't right. Unsettled, she reached out in her sleep, and encircled her tiny arm around Sands' waist.
I
think I'm gonna leave off here. I originally wanted to throw a dream sequence in there at the end as a way to finish this chapter off. But then I couldn't help but find that ending scene very cute and gushy and all that jazz so I decided to leave it at that. Don't worry, I'll have the dream in the next chapter. (tauntingly) And it's a flaaaaashbaaaack . . . )
Author's Thanks and Review Responses:
Dawnie-7: Very happy to hear that you like the little girl. . Seems like everbody's been taken over by her cuteness save for Sands and Lyn, of course.
Lynné: (smokes carelessly) I know what kids are really hiding behind those cherub faces. -.e They make you think that they're completely innocent, then –
Zebbidy: -- they move in for the kill. u.u
Lynné: . . . . I was going to say 'they stab you in the back' but whatever. (blows a smoke ring) u.u
vanillafluffy: lol, really, if she isn't able to read Lyn or Sands' every thought, Zeb should be grateful.(pictures Joséphine with a wide-brimmed black hat and a shovel) o.o' I finally realized (about half way through the story -.9;;) that Sands hadn't worn any of his 'masterful' disguises! o Dunno how I could forget that.
The Gilatas Monster: ) Come on, I did that one on purpose and you know it! Heheheh . . . I'm so evil I need a stupid henchman . . . Hah, I love quoting. Anyway, I knew you'd go for the idea! You rock, Stephie! And I won't let anything happen to Stephan Damiano. . . . or, at least . . . I'll try not to let anything happen. Ya never know . . . D
morph: It's cool. My Internet used to be down all the time 'til I finally got MSN. (Note: AOL EVIL) Glad you reviewed, though, and that you thought that posing as the cab driver was something Sands-like. It's very relieving cuz y'know how I worry about keeping him in character. Good to know you liked the last two chapters, too – thanks!
DragonHunter200: lol, join the club; I'm never right either. .
Oh my God! I just realized this! It's Friday the Thirteenth! o And I'm posting the thirteenth chapter of my story tonight! Man, that's creepy. O.o;;
Sands: I guess this makes you Goth or something.
Sidney: Nah. I'm too worried about nature and the ozone to be Goth. FIGHT THE POWER!
Sands: (pumping his fist in the air) Legalize it! u.u
o