Title: Sealed with a Kiss (C&K, an author's cut)

Author: Stress

Summary: Layna Kotliar is a girl with a secret so big that she doesn't even know it herself. Will she be able to trust David with it or will she continue to rely on the only friend she's ever known, a simple leather-bound journal?

The translations: As you will see as the fiction begins (and continues), Layna is a French immigrant. Therefore, much of what she says is in French. When the dialogue called for it I tried to include a translation but not always. However, I will include translations at the bottom. Hopefully it will add to the experience of the story.

Author's Note: This fiction piece was first written in the summer of 2002 and called Cowboys & Kisses (the original is still archived on As the years have progressed, and I have grown as a writer, I have gone back over my fiction and cleaned up/edited/rewritten many parts that I didn't like anymore. However, with Cowboys & Kisses, I decided that an author's cut was the best solution to reworking that piece. I am much happier with the new characterization of Layna and I hope you all agree. I stuck to the main plot of the original story, but with many tweaks and additions. I hope you guys enjoy – Stress.

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I. LAYNA

Cowboys and kisses
Gotta find myself every time you go away…

12 August 1899

Mon journal,

It happened again. I was sitting with les jumeaux Lynchez – the Lynch twins – by Kayla's bunk this afternoon when it happened. I don't know why it happened but it did. One moment we were talking and it happened. Again…

"Oh, Layna, you're such a joker," Kayla Lynch said in her Irish brogue. She flipped her long red curls over her shoulder and grinned at dark-haired girl sitting on the bunk in front of her.

"Vraiment, Kayla? I had no idea that you felt that way," Layna Kotliar's blue eyes gleamed with mischief as she basked in the attention she was receiving from Kayla and Ryan. The twins, two of her friends in the 5th Street Orphanage, were listening to Layna reminisce about her early childhood in Chalosse, located in the southern part of France. Well, friends was a very strong term; they were more like her companions, really. Layna hadn't had any real friends or confidantes, apart from her battered diary, since that day when she was seven years old. That day, almost eleven years ago.

"And you're such a pretty joker, too," Ryan added, his green eyes twinkling as he winked in her direction.

Layna blushed and turned her head. Ryan had been acting very different with her for the past few weeks and she was getting a little bit nervous. She had asked Kayla about her brother's actions and was worried to hear that he was trying to make her his "mot". Kayla found it quite humorous when Layna had to ask what exactly a "mot" was; she laughed harder still when Layna paled to learn that "mot" was, where the Lynch twins grew up, slang for "girlfriend." Despite her reputation, Layna was afraid of guys and barely knew how to act around them. "Merci, Ryan," she answered, not quite meeting his eyes.

Ryan got up from the bunk from which he was perched and approached hers. "No problem," he whispered before taking a seat beside her. When she didn't move away from him, he leaned over and slung an arm over her shoulder. No one could accuse Ryan Lynch of being shy.

Once she felt his arm's weight settle on her Layna grew rigged and stiff. It was happening again…

"Hello, there. What's a little girlie like you doin' out in the big, bad Manhattan streets by yourself?" The man, old, dirty and, by the look and smell of it, extremely drunk, slurred in the seven-year-old Layna's direction as she stood on the street in front of her parents' apartment building.

"Excusez-moi, monsieur I'm waiting for Papa." Though her mother and father always warned her not to speak to strangers, Layna was never one to listen. As it had only been a few months since the Kotliar's moved from their small farm in Chalosse to America, her parents had not been able to impress the importance of avoiding strangers in such a big city.

"Really... And where may this Papa of yours be, my little Frenchy?" The man walked over to Layna so that she was standing directly in front of him. Despite the summer heat Layna shivered.

"He's just inside the apartment an–" Layna's words were cut off when the man placed his hands over her mouth and enveloped her in a tight bear hug. Despite the dirt and odor of the man's hand Layna did the only thing she could do – she bit down on his hand and hard.

"Why you…," the man cursed as he moved his hand from her mouth giving her the opportunity to shriek one word: "Papa!"

The streets, except for the man and the struggling child, were empty. Her yell echoed through the night sky. Mere moments followed before a man emerged from the apartment. He paused on the porch where a second figure – a woman—appeared next to him. Layna and her would-be captor were, at this point, just on the opposite of the street. Though the man had intended to get away with the child, he stopped when Philippe Kotliar ran forward and pointed at him. The shine of the moon glinted off the graying hair of the man and illuminated the terror on his face. "Arrêt, bâtard! Put my daughter down, you street trash!"

The man threw Layna easily to the side and ran at Philippe. He may not have understood the first part of the man's yell, but he sure understood that he was being insulted. "You shouldn't a said that pal," he yelled. Philippe had not time to lower his arm, let alone react to this advance, before the man withdrew a small knife from his pocket and thrust it into Philippe's side.

"Philippe, mon amour, no!" cried Marie Kotliar from her post on the porch. Without thinking she ran forward and threw her arms around her dying husband. "Pourquoi? Why? How could you?" she sobbed at the man who stood crazed in the moonlight.

"Just like this," he sneered as he plunged the knife, the same knife used to kill her husband, directly into Marie's backside. "Now, for my prize," he said to himself. Leaving the murdered couple on the dirt in front of their building he turned to grab the little girl.

But she was gone.

"Layna, are you alright?" Kayla's face floated before her eyes. It was a face feigning concern, with fear behind it. Fear. She was afraid of Layna.

Layna stumbled off of the bunk and fell to the floor. "Oui, je suis bien – I mean, yes, yes, I'm fine." She lifted her right hand to her head and tried to relieve the throbbing pain. Her head always hurt when the memories resurfaced…

Ryan slowly backed away from Layna, disgust written all over his face. "No she ain't, Kayla. This one's off her nut."

Layna looked up at the boy, shaking slightly. "Ryan..."

"You're gone in the head, Layna. Normal people don't just do that." He continued walking backwards, his hand reaching behind him to find the doorknob. "Kayla, let's go. I want to talk about Madame Pearson about getting this header out of our wing."

Kayla looked where Layna remained sitting on the floor. "Bye, mentaller." With those last spiteful words, Kayla followed her brother out of the bunkroom.

- - -

Mon dieu, I won't be able to ever face them again. I'm still shaking, though I don't know if it's because of the spell or their reaction to it. Every time I've had those spells, ever since the day I lost my family, I've been alone so no one has had to witness it. But that changed today. The two people who were the closest I've ever had to friends now think I'm an idiot, crazy. I can't live with people who know think that something's wrong with me. I've kept my past in the past ever since I came to live in this place – I don't think that anyone ever need no about my parent's death. And, oui, I know there's only a week until my eighteenth birthday. And I know that once I'm eighteen I could leave the orphanage forever. But I thought I might actually have people who wanted me to stay -- now I can't wait that week. It's just you and me, journal, just the way I like it. I--

"Merde," Layna swore, throwing down her pen on her bunk, as a sharp pain blinded her momentarily. She rested her head into her hands, letting her long, straight, black hair fall over her shoulders. It was happening again. For some godforsaken reason, it was happening again.

Layna panted heavily as she hid behind a box in a nearby alley. She trembled slightly as she held onto her knees and choked back a sob. Gone. Mama and Papa were gone

"Frenchy? Little girl? Where are you? Eddie don't wanna hurt you, he wants to be your friend..." From the sound of his voice the dirty man was getting closer and closer. And she had nowhere else to go.

Layna pulled herself to her knees and peeked out from behind the box. The man was out, standing in the dim moonlight, right across from the alley where she lay hidden. Layna gasped in surprise when she saw the man still brandishing the large knife that had just murdered her parents. This man wanted to be her friend? If he wanted to be her friend, why did he hurt Mama & Papa?

The man, Eddie, paused when he heard Layna's gasp. "C'mon, Frenchy. Eddie's gonna be your friend. You'll like Eddie, promise."

Layna curled back up into a ball and stopped breathing for a moment. She couldn't let the man find her.

Layna woke up in surprise, still laying flat on her belly, her right cheek glued to the page she had been writing on. "Oh mon, I must have dozed off there," she murmured to herself as she rubbed her head. The headache was slowly fading, but the memories would always be there.

She sat up on her bunk and tried to remember what had been happening right before she had fallen asleep. She scrambled to her feet and ran to the window. The sun had already begun its daily descent; she had only been asleep for a few hours. "Bien, it's still dark out." Grabbing a worn leather bag from under her bunk Layna shoved the few shirts and long skirts she owned and the ragged sheet on her bed inside and pocketed her journal. She left the bunkroom, pausing to look sadly at the row of bunks. No one was there to see her off.

She quietly crept down the three flights of stairs until she was in the lobby. Judging by the grandfather clock that stood in the center, there was still enough time to go outside before curfew. If you behaved enough to put yourself in the headmistress's good graces, Madame Pearson would let you go out as long as you were back by eight.

"Where are you going, Mademoiselle Kotliar?" Madame Pearson inquired, gesturing to the bag clutched in her hand. The eagle-eyed head of the orphanage let nothing get past her.

"Just to visit some of my friends, Madame Pearson. I'll be back well before curfew." Friends? What a lousy excuse.

"Of course, mademoiselle. Don't forget, though, curfew is only an hour away." Madame Pearson didn't really care what you were doing as long as you your answers were exactly what she wanted to hear her.

"Oui, Madame. Au revoir…" Au revoir, forever... Layna finished the thought in her mind, sadly, as she exited the doors of the 5th Street Orphanage for the last time.

Once she was outside, though, a faint smile came to her face and she breathed a sigh of relief. Freedom... It was like this every time she requested leave from the facility. She never realized how much the exactly the cramped orphanage crowded her until she went outside. She walked a good distance away from the orphanage before she lost her nerve and returned.

After a considerable amount of street stood between her and her the orphanage, she approached an old statue. "Now where do I go from here?" She looked all around the dim and dirty streets of New York as she leaned up against the brass structure. She hadn't thought about that before she left the orphanage, but she was not prepared to go back and face the horrified faces of Kayla and Ryan. Once was enough for a lifetime.

Her thinking was still impaired by a slight throbbing in her skull. Figuring that it would be better to sleep her faint headache off, Layna slumped down against the base of the stature, momentarily registering the name of the figure: Horace Greeley. "Go west, young man" the epitaph underneath read and she laughed. "Si seulement, if only," she murmured before pulling her sheet out of her bag. It was a nice summer evening and the thin sheet was sufficient to keep her comfortable as she leaned her head back against the plaque.

Layna stretched her arms and snuggled up against the base trying to find the softest patch of dirt on the roadside. She yawned and reached back into her bag, pulling out her journal. With a sigh, she opened her journal with the intent to finish her previous entry.

Mon cher, Layna,

Layna giggled in excitement. The high-pitched sound escaped her thin lips without her even realizing it. There was another message, a new message, in her journal just following Layna's earlier script. Her eyes raced through the childish scrawl on the page eager to see the signature at the bottom. Kisses. She did not know who this Kisses was, or how she was able to write in Layna's journal when it never left her side but the young author never failed to leave her encouraging little messages.

Mon cher, Layna,

Don't be nervous and don't be afraid. It's just you and me, Layna, just like it's always been. Those idiots were just holding you back, keeping you from yourself. Don't pay any attention to their hurtful words-- they don't know anything about us. Anyway, even if they did, they wouldn't understand. Nobody ever will. It's just you and me, Layna. I will protect you.

Kisses

Layna fell asleep under the moonlight, a smile on her face. Kisses' messages often had that effect on her.

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Translations:

Mon journal – My journal
les jumeaux Lynchez – the Lynch twins
Vraiment – Really
Merci – Thanks
Excusez-moi ­– Excuse me
Arrêt, bâtard – Stop, bastard
Mon amour – My love
Pourquoi – Why
Oui, je suis bien – Yes, I am good
Mon dieu – My God
Merde – Shit
Oh, mon – Oh, my
Bien – Good
Au revoir – Goodbye
Si seulement – If only
Mon cher – My dear