Long lost face

If the earth would have opened up right there to swallow him, Kip would have let it. Karla's words struck him to his very core, even though it was all his own fault. Her tears hurt like nothing else...yet he was helpless to comfort her...not when he'd been the one to cause her pain.

Realizing she really was going to walk away without giving him another chance, his hand slipped from her shoulder as she left and didn't even turn around. Though everything in him wanted to continue begging, the burn in the pit of his stomach told him that it would only make things worse. She was gone. And this may very well have been the last time he'd ever see her.

That thought alone sent new tears into his eyes. He'd just lost the best thing that had ever happened to him. He'd just lost his best friend. All because he was a wretched loser. There was no going back. No fixing it. No second chance. He was alone.

He didn't know how long he stood on the porch, but the image of Karla walking away would be burned into his mind forever. At some point, he ended up back in his room, curled up on his bed as his tears fell silently into his pillow. And for the moment, he was sure that he'd never be able to forgive himself for what he'd done.


“Yes…yes, we’ll have the designs sent right on over to the printers. Uh-huh…sure thing. Right.” Levi nodded, even though the client on the other end of the line couldn’t see him. He jotted down another note on a piece of scratch paper. “Yep. It’s all taken care of…. Right, I’ll get those other bids to you this week… Okay… Have a great day… Goodbye.”

After hanging up, he stood from the cluttered desk and pinned his note – which looked like it was full of chicken scratches – to the cork board on the wall. “Mr. Hollingsworth is pleased with our progress, and wants those bids on the business cards and posters as soon as possible.”

“Nicely done.” Keith nodded to his son before continuing to clean the two large windows that overlooked the street. “How are we doing with the designs for that pet store?”

“Great! I…think.” Levi turned to stare at the desk. “It’s somewhere between the Hollingsworth job and the….oh, shoot, do I need to call the newspaper today for the Jackson event?”

“Um…” Keith paused his work. “I think so. Didn’t we write it on the calendar?”

“Yeah…” They both looked at the wall calendar which was full of handwritten notes – most of them barely readable. Levi grimaced. “You mentioned a couple weeks ago something about hiring a secretary…”

Keith tossed his dirty paper towels into a nearby trashcan. “Evidently we need an extra set of hands.” He grinned sheepishly. “Guess that’s what happens when you outgrow your basement.”

“Guess so. Progress, right? I looked at the books last night…we can’t afford to pay too much, but if we find the right person, it would be nice to have someone to at least keep track of our deadlines. Maybe handle the phones.”

“Agreed.” Keith walked over to the second desk and woke up his computer. “Let’s not advertise too widely yet. How about just putting a sign in the window and seeing if anybody bites?”

“Sure. If nothing happens and this place gets worse, we can put an ad in the paper.”


Though he didn't say so, Jared was glad for Grace's reassuring arm as he stared down at the porch steps. Fumbling his way around inside the house was one thing. Going down stairs - quite another.

It took all his strength to balance on his crutches as he slowly took it one step at a time. Four steps never seemed so tall. Once on the sidewalk, the rain pelted his face, and he took a moment to just breathe in the warm, wet air. They'd both be soaked in minutes, but he didn't care.

Eyes glued to the sidewalk, it was slow going. He remained quiet, still tucked safely back in his own little world, while also requiring most of his concentration just to get his muscles to cooperate. Each crack in the pavement could have been three-foot hurdles. Each slick spot, a trap for his crutches. A few times, he had to rely on Grace to keep him steady as his legs tried to buckle.

The length of one block. And he was absolutely exhausted. His hands ached from holding all his weight on the crutches, and his back had gone almost numb from the pain. Any strength left in his legs was just about gone. Soaked to the bone, his t-shirt and jeans clung to him as he turned around and stared back towards the house. The block may as well have been a mile. But Grace couldn't carry him. Walking was the only way back.

Only a few more steps, and Jared's legs had had enough. Unable to lift his foot anymore, his toe caught on an uneven spot in the sidewalk. With weakened arms, and too much weight for Grace, falling was inevitable. Hindered by the crutches made it even worse, and when it was all over, he was sitting in a heap on the wet sidewalk, one hand with scraped knuckles, and a tear in the knee of his jeans where blood was already showing through.

The physical pain hurt. The emotional pain hurt. And it was all he could take.

Yelling a curse into the wind, he took one of his crutches and sent it flying where it landed quite a ways away, narrowly missing someone's mailbox. Sitting on the wet ground as the rain continued to fall, Jared ignored his bleeding knee. He was sick of hurting. Sick of needing to rely on everybody else. He knew he was on blood thinners and shouldn't risk even a little injury like this, but he just didn't care anymore.

"I can't take it anymore!" he shouted angrily. "I can't do this!" His eyes glared up at Grace, even though she really wasn't the target of his anger. "It's stupid to keep trying! I'll never be the same again! I have no life anymore, no job, no future, and it sucks!"

Tears mingled in with the rain that ran down his face. "Why me?! Why didn't I just die?!"


Aaron slowly opened his eyes, trying to bring everything back into focus after being knocked out by Garret. Seeing someone standing over him, he lurched against the restraints in his bed.

Justin didn't flinch, but simply remained standing, his arms folded as he observed this angry and desperate man. "Ya know - you're not gonna break loose. I mean, I don't care if you keep fighting, but honestly, there's no point unless you're trying to build up your muscles or something."

Aaron glared at him. "Who are you?"

"Why does everybody always ask me that?" Justin sank down in a chair and grabbed his notepad. "Aaron, huh? Heard you were a pretty good agent."

"You the one that's brainwashed Garret?"

"Why do you think he's been brainwashed?"

"That's the only reason he'd be trying to keep me here instead of going back where we belong." Aaron pulled against the straps again. "But I'll never give in," he growled. "You can try all you want. I'm not going to stay here. I'm not going to give anybody any information, so just give up now and leave me alone!"

Justin smirked. "Really? That's all you got?"

Aaron's glare remained, but he stopped struggling. "What do you want, anyway?"

"Nothing, really. Just wondered what kind of material you're made out of. Garret speaks pretty highly of you."

"Garret's a traitor, and obviously far less intelligent than I ever gave him credit for."

"Ya think?" Justin cocked his head. "What if he found something better than being a soldier for the Agency?"

"There's nothing else for guys like us," Aaron hissed.

Justin made a note. "How'd you wind up in the Agency anyway?"

"I was recruited 'cause they knew I'd make a good agent. And I didn't disappoint." Aaron flexed his wrists once more against the restraints.

"Mmm. And Garret? How'd you end up with him?"

"I was good enough to be on his team. Period."

"So he's one of the best."

"He was," Aaron muttered. "Now he's just a nobody who's lost all my respect."

Justin nodded and made another note. "You wanna get out of those restraints?"

Arron frowned. "Of course I do."

"Good." Justin turned to Rick. "Hey, Rick? Wanna come help me a second?"

Rick had been listening, and now gave him a very leery glance. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

Justin shrugged. "He didn't get very far the last time."

Aaron pulled again and threw him a new glare. "Just give me on second and I'll have you flat on your back."

"Oh yeah?" Justin set his hand on his knee and squeezed, making Aaron writhe back in pain. "I...kinda have a feeling you and I are gonna get along alright." With Rick, he freed Aaron's wrists and ankles.

Aaron didn't try to get up, but just flexed his joints, confused at Justin's behavior. "You can't expect me to stay in here."

"What are you gonna do? Walk away? From what I hear, it's gonna be a while before you're gonna walk straight again. So if I were you, I'd just cool my jets and chill out. Can't beat laying around all day and getting three square meals for free."

"It's not free when I'm a prisoner."

"Ya know...maybe if you really respected Garret as much as you did, you should take a second look at what he's done. You might be surprised at what you find."

"I doubt it."

"Suit yourself." Justin made another note before wandering over to the phone and dialing. "Hal, listen, we could use some eyes for a while... Yeah. Just to make sure Rick and Misty don't get bushwhacked by this maniac... Okay, thanks."

Aaron rolled his eyes. "So you think I can't run away, but you're still gonna put a guard on me."

"Only because if I didn't, Reese would have my hide. I don't think you're going to run away again, and I don't think you're going to hurt anyone. There's no point."

Aaron fell silent, and the short session was over. Justin would digest their interaction and give his report to Reese in due time. And surprisingly enough...Aaron wouldn't try again that day to escape.


A small, black pickup pulled into the ranch driveway and slowly approached the main buildings. It was an older truck - evident through the rust around the edges, and a dent in the side that had never been fixed. After parking, the driver sat for several moments, just scanning the area before he exited. Squinting out from under his old cowboy hat, he silently took in all the sights. He appeared to perhaps be in his forties, though one might believe life had not been easy on him. He held his tall, lanky frame with confidence, while weariness laid behind eyes of deep green that seemed to speak a thousand languages of emotion.

He shed his denim jacket and tossed it through the truck's open window before making sure his t-shirt was tucked into his jeans and wiping the dust off the top of his worn cowboy boots by using the backs of his pant legs. Though it would seem he was a stranger, he aimed towards Angel's office rather than the main house where most people would go. The eyes that glanced his way from the barns and paddock didn't interrupt his steady stride.

Reaching the porch, he started to knock, then realized the door was already partway open. Only then did he hesitate. For a moment, his hand simply rested on the doorknob as if he couldn't decide if he really wanted to be here or not. Eventually though, he quietly opened the door and stepped inside. Letting his eyes adjust, he spotted Angel at her desk.

A melancholic sort of smile creased his lips, and he took off his hat. "You haven't changed a bit," he mused quietly. Coming a few steps closer, he swallowed hard, the emotions churning in his gaze. Did she recognize him? Would she remember him? It had been so very long. Twenty years? He'd lost track. His driver's license said Lane Lachey. But those here from his past might know him only by Mississippi. "I know I prolly shoulda called first..."