Insert standard disclaimer here: The one that reminds everyone that this is a work of fiction. No one is real and any resemblance to someone who is real is purely coincidence, honest. This is also a Fan Fiction set in the Whateley Story Universe. No Canon characters were permanently harmed in the making of this story. I hope. :)

Note: Well, this was supposed to be the final chapter, but it is not. Sorry. I know you all wanted it to end. This one took a LOT longer than I expected due all the usual excuses. Thanks go out to my beta-readers/editors/sanity checkers as well as djkauf for his magical editing.

** Chapter 40 **

“Yes, yes it is, but I just started there. Well, I actually start on Monday, so I don’t know if I really qualify as a ‘Sister’.” I think that I manage to cover my tracks rather well. I feel kind of pleased with myself. Maybe I am finally getting the hang of this subterfuge thing that my sister does so well.

“Oh, pshaw, young lady!  That just makes our meeting each other even more fortuitous. You, your Aunt and your Uncle simply ‘must’ attend my party. It would provide an excellent educational opportunity for you.”

Okay, maybe I am not getting the hang of it.

Aunt Julie comes to my rescue. “Umm, sorry, Mrs. Grantson, but I am not sure if Chloe can attend. She is flying home Saturday morning and we already have plans to celebrate her final night with us.”

“Well, you simply must change them my dear Julie!  Everyone who is anyone will be there.  The Virginia Attorney General and even the Governor will be attending.”

Okay, maybe not.  This is starting to turn into a tennis match. She serves, she volleys, oh! Smash! Wait, she makes an amazing save!

“Welll, I don’t know Mrs. Grantson. I will need to run it past Jim, and Chloe didn’t bring anything suitable for a formal occasion. How about if we think about it?” Aunt Julie retreats a little and gives Mrs. Grantson an opening.

Visions of one of those formal military ball things that I have seen on TV run through my head.  Dudes in elaborate military uniforms with lots of awards on their chest and swords strapped to their sides walk about with cigars and glasses of brandy.  Ladies in fluffy gowns gossiping about who did what with whom.  Followed by some waltz style dancing where the love smitten woman stares dreamily into the handsome officer’s eyes as he twirls her around the room.  Finally, the terrorists burst on scene and the heroic officer uses his sword to thwart the plot.

Okay, maybe not that bad.

Mrs. Grantson appears to take that as a yes. “Excellent! Well, I must be on my way, but I will send some invitations over to your house first thing in the morning.” She turns to me with a victorious grin. “And you, young lady, I cannot wait to introduce you to my nephew! You two will have so much in common.”

*panic*

I don't think she took Aunt Julie’s “think about it” the way that Aunt Julie intended it to be taken.  I glance over at Aunt Julie, and she looks almost as dazed and lost as I do.  Mrs. Grantson is almost a force of nature the way she bowls right over all resistance in her path.

I cannot believe that this kind of stuff keeps happening to me! What are the odds that some old lady who is putting on a formal party and knows Aunt Julie would run into her at the grocery store and then, have gone to the same school I am using as my cover?  Even more amazing, she is hosting the party for Captain Howard’s boss and I would need to wear some formal gown, dress thing and dance with her nephew.  Scenes from that movie with the Beast and Belle dancing around a fairy tale ballroom with dancing teapots flicker through my head.  I am not going to be some Belle of the ball!  No way, no how.

Why can’t some super-villain attack the store because he needs hot dogs for his minion party? That would be so much easier to deal with.

“Well, that was unexpected, where were we?” Aunt Julie shakes her head once to clear her confusion and returns to the feminine hygiene production selection as if nothing is wrong with what just happened. “Oh yes, here you go dear. I recommend that you try this brand.” She hands me a sort of pink colored box for me to inspect.  

It is not pink. What color is it?

>Analyzing color spectrum....
>#FF00FF

Oh, that helps, not.  What color is that?

>Magenta/Fuchsia

Isn’t that the same as pink?

>#FFC0CB = Pink

Oh, how silly of me to even ask and I thought that magenta and fuchsia were different colors.  Oh man, what am I doing?  It is freaking red!  Well, more red, but I guess it has some purple in it too.  

*sigh*

After that waste of processing time, I almost wish the box would cause an allergic reaction so I would have an excuse to drop it like a hot potato, but I do not.  “Umm, I am not sure if I like the idea of, you know...” I glance down. “...but is it true that I could use these for dressings if I get shot? Because if so, I think these might be useful.”

Aunt Julie’s eyes widen with surprise. “Chloe! What in the...” She pauses as if she cannot believe that someone would even think of using tampons as dressings. “You ARE definitely not a typical girl!”

“Umm, yeah...hello?” I hold my arms in supplication to draw attention to my body.

She giggles at my display before becoming serious again. “But yes, I have heard them being utilized for that purpose by the military.” She turns back the tsunami of options, grabs a blue box and hands it to me. “Here, a medium strength panty liner will probably be a bit easier for you to adjust to, but you may still need to think about a regular tampon if you have a high flow.”

I now have two boxes of ‘feminine hygiene’ products in my hands. It has gone from bad to worse and I am not allergic to the second box either. I also do not like the sound of that ‘high flow’ thing because, gross; I don’t even want to think about it.

“Actually, I probably won’t need either of these. After the last time my clothes were wrecked, I programmed my...” I glance around to see if anyone is paying attention to us. “...stuff to just clean up any excess ‘flow’ that may occur.”

Aunt Julie does not look convinced. “Hmmph, well, you should still have some on hand, just in case. Put them in the cart and let’s get out of here before anything else happens.”
 

**

MCO Special Agent Lanier felt more frustrated by what should have been a simple mutant hunt than he could ever remember feeling before. He had nothing and the fucking target slipped through his hands, again.  All the leads turned out to be false and he had squat to show for all the resources that had been placed at his disposal.  He has had mutants get away from him in the past, but this one was different.  Whisper was different because he still did not have any proof that she even existed.  She appeared to be aptly named, but Ghost would have worked just as well.

The only bit of physical evidence he had to support her existence was a crappy picture and a few eyewitness accounts from the H1 incident.  The genuine fake U.S. Government issued MMID card that the fucking DARPA Deputy Director with delusions of grandeur flashed in front of his face only pissed him off even more.  

The latest incident or sighting only added more confusion.  The initial reports seemed to confirm Whisper’s existence, but now evidence was emerging that indicated it was all a hoax. A giant H1 plot designed to expose the danger that mutants presented to society. A plot that backfired on both the H1 and the MCO.  The MCO’s justified strong response only seemed to raise public sympathy and sentiment for mutants. The pro-mutant movement was becoming like the pro-gay movement.  

Everyone loved to help the minority freaks these days.  What was next for the American public to approve of, gay marriage? Lanier shuddered from that revolting thought.  He found it almost as repulsive as mutants allowed to run around without any MCO oversight.

He had bits and pieces. Fortunately, he had enough bits and pieces to show his bosses that he was onto something, but not enough to actually use in a court of law to justify the actions the MCO wanted to take with this mutant threat.  He was not worried about any action the MCO deemed reasonable making it to a court. The treaty and the fear of the public were very effective weapons against any filthy mutant making a case stick against the MCO. No, the real problem was the simple fact that he did not have anything for the MCO to act upon, and that was the problem.

“Fuck! This is so frustrating!”  His desk boomed as he slammed the palm of his hand against the flimsy file containing all his evidence. Somehow, the U.S. Government was successfully keeping Whisper’s existence a secret and with all the friends the MCO had in Congress and in Law Enforcement, secrets like that should not be possible.  

He knew that the CIA had been involved, but again his only evidence of that hypothesis was the sighting of the CIA’s pet mutant, Mirage, at the mall.  The FBI was also involved and the fact that they were involved and he still did not have any additional data on Whisper added even more frustration to his plate.

His “Message for you sire!” email alert drew his attention.  At first, it appeared to be junk email due to the random appearing sender address, but the content of the message lowered the temperature in his office by a few degrees.
 

>I have some information to whisper in your ear.

> 

>Meet me tomorrow to discuss our mutual career goals.

> 

>09:30@Caribou by your apartment.

It took him a few minutes to fully process the implications. “Holy, fucking shitballs!”

It looked like he had a source that could blow the lid wide open on the case.
 

**

Aunt Julie and I manage to make it home without any further drama or excitement.  Rush hour traffic kinda sucks, but Aunt Julie is able to avoid the worst of it by taking the back roads.  After helping her carry a few bags into the house, I am finally allowed to change into more comfortable clothing.  I am definitely a jeans and t-shirt kind of gir-person!

Helping Aunt Julie in the kitchen proves to be much more fun than I expected.  My mom’s meals are good, but very simple. Aunt Julie’s recipes are very complex with tons of prep work involved, but the stuffed salmon turns out so yummy and I cannot help feeling some pride by the fact that I helped make it.  Maybe I should have taken a Home Economics class instead of Electronics, you know, so I could meet chicks.  Funny, but if I had done that, I probably would still be a boy.

While we are eating, Aunt Julie brings up Mrs. Grantson’s invitation with Uncle Jim.  “It would be interesting, but we can’t go, right?” She finishes, sounding suspiciously hopeful that he will find a reason that we could go.

Uncle Jim pauses mid-bite, and then reflects on the idea as he enjoys his food.  I try to telepathically gain his attention and tell him, “No, no, no. ‘We’ can’t go. It’s much too perilous.”

“Hmm, I am not sure, Jewels...” Uncle Jim glances over at me. “It could be rather risky to have Chloe there and if her identity was discovered, a very embarrassing situation for everyone involved.”

Aunt Julie sits back in her chair, exhales and takes a sip of her wine to try and hide her disappointment. “I know, but, I was kind of hoping that you would see a way because it has been a rather long time since we got invited to one of these events and it would be good for your career.”

Now I feel bad. “Umm, you two could go. I could just stay home and watch TV. It’s no big deal.”

Aunt Julie beams an award winning smile at me. “Thanks Chloe, but Jim is right, it would be too risky and I would like to plan something for us to do together on your final night here. I mean, it is not every week that my niece comes to visit, now is it?”

Phew! I feel relieved and Uncle Jim relaxes a little more.  Aunt Julie is suspiciously silent for what feels like the longest time, 5.23 seconds. She sighs and puts her wine glass down. “Still, it would have been nice to find a dress for you so you could dance with that boy...”

I think she purposely timed her hope filled lament for when I was taking a sip from my glass.  “What?!?!” I manage to gasp out between coughs as my water finds its way down the wrong pipe.

“Gotcha!” Aunt Julie points and giggles at me.

“Ha, ha, very funny.” I look over at Uncle Jim. “How do you put up with her?”

He reaches out, grabs her hand and then, stares at Aunt Julie with a love smitten look in his eyes. “Because, I love her.”

Then, they kiss each other. “Helll-lo, kid in the room...” I mostly pretend to be all grossed out by the display of affection, but it is kind of heartwarming too.  I feel my eyes start to get a little extra lubricated, darn it.

They both laugh at me, but Aunt Julie gets up and gives me a quick ninja hug. “We love you too, dear!”

Now, I have to use my napkin to blot my eyes.  Dang excessive lubrication problem.

The rest of the meal and dessert is almost like being at home with my parents, except not.  Uncle Jim and Aunt Julie talk about their day. At first, I can tell that Uncle Jim is a little uncomfortable with me there.  Neither one of them is used to having someone else at the table with them, but he warms up to me after we get into a spirited debate about GEO, much to Aunt Julie’s chagrin.

Well, initially Aunt Julie rolled her eyes and got up to refill her wine glass, but Uncle Jim wanted to learn more about what caused my transformation and that brought her back into the discussion.  Especially, when we started talking about medical stuff and the nanites. I showed Uncle Jim the medical monitor and played the videos back to him.  That got him more than a little pissed at the CIA, followed by the Navy for ‘invading’ his private property.

We end the evening by starting “Independence Day” in the home theatre, but at 2100 hrs and just when stuff is starting to blow up, Aunt Julie grabs my arm. “Chloe, I need your help upstairs for a few minutes, do you mind?”

Uncle Jim glances over at her as his hand hovers over the remote. “Do you want me to pause it for you?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay.” Aunt Julie says while I nod my head yes.

I want to watch stuff blow up, even if I have already seen it a few times already. “What?” I ask her, feeling a little confused.

Aunt Julie gives me the ‘come on’ look while Uncle Jim looks back and forth between the two of us with a confused expression.  Reluctantly, I follow her while trying to catch a few more seconds of the action that I am going to miss.  I have no idea what is going on when she leads me into her bedroom.

After a few seconds to confirm that Uncle Jim is not following, Aunt Julie shuts the door and turns me with a hopeful expression. “Can you give me that makeover you did earlier today?  I kind of want to surprise Jim...”

Lightbulb...

I am more than a little surprised by her request and what it really means. I may only be 15 years old, but I do know a little bit about the birds and the bees. “Aunt Julie!  That was just a joke, but it was kinda cool. Are you sure?”

She blushes and looks down for a second before she looks back up with an evil grin. “Oh yeah, I wanna surprise Jim and I think that your little trick will, umm, do the trick.” She giggles.

I am not sure how to handle this situation. I have never had an adult admit that they were even thinking about what I am pretty sure she is thinking about.  I almost wanna cover my eyes and ears, and run screaming from the room.

TMI! TMI!

But, I don’t because, well, I don’t know why.

“Well, okay, but try not to get into too much trouble tonight young lady. I am not going to bail you two out of jail again!”  I sternly scold her with my hands on my hips as if I am the parent in this situation.

Aunt Julie has the nerve to laugh at me, but she straightens up and tries to look all prim and proper.  Yeah, I think I am going to have fun with this.  I pull up the image of her from before with the long, slightly wild, raven black hair and the nose stud, but this time I make a few extra tweaks.  

I add purple streaks to her hair and make her eyes a bright purple color, but I stop at making her makeup too Goth. Subtle eye shadow and blood red lips, but I add delicate vampire fangs. She nervously shifts back and forth and I grin as I come up with another idea. Instead of going full Goth on her, I add a full body dragon tattoo, but it is under her clothing so she won’t notice it until she looks in the mirror.

“Okay, I think I have the, umm, makeover ready. Are you ready?”

“I’m not sure now, I noticed you grinning there and now I am a little nervous...”

“Hehe, don’t worry, I think you’ll like it, but if not, I can change it.”

Aunt Julie cringes expectantly and closes her eyes. “Okay, I guess I am ready.”

It takes a bit more juice than the last time, but it is also more complex than it was last time.  I added a lot more details. As the spell activates, I gasp at the sight of her transforming before my eyes. She looks absolutely amazing and I feel my body responding in ways that I find extremely embarrassing to even think about.  She is my make-believe Aunt and I cannot believe that I find her attractive.  No, attractive does not cover it. Hot. Hot is the word I am looking for.  Actually, she kind of reminds me of Sara.

Oh...

Aunt Julie misinterprets my reaction and looks down at her body, almost like she expects to find a third arm or something. “Chloe, what’s wrong?!”

“Umm, nothing. You look awesome.” I manage to squeak out as I open the door and look back at her. “Umm, I’ll just go tell Uncle Jim that you want him to come up, in...10 minutes?” I close the door behind me and race down the stairs before she can tell me no and discover the tattoo.

“Chloe!” I hear Aunt Julie yell over the roar of the movie just before I make it back into the basement.

“What’s up?” Uncle Jim asks as I smoothly vault over the back of the couch to land back in my seat with a light, plop.

I am too embarrassed to look at him. So, I focus on the movie in the hopes that he will not see notice. “Umm, Aunt Julie wants you to come up to your room in 10 minutes, or so.”

Uncle Jim pauses the movie. “Did she say what she needed?”

I do not have to lie, but boy do I feel myself blushing. “Not exactly...”

Uncle Jim leans forward with the remote to restart the movie, but pauses and starts to stand. “Maybe I should go up now?”

I surprise us both when I grab his arm to stop him. “No!”  

He slowly lowers himself back into his seat. “Chloe, what’s going on?”

“Umm, Aunt Julie is changing and wants to surprise you, or something...” I find it very hard to look at him.  This is so awkward.  Old people are not supposed to be all young and stuff.

Uncle Jim sits back in his seat with a surprised gleam in his eyes. “Hmm...”

I cannot take it anymore. “Can you restart the movie?”

“What? Oh! Sure, sorry...” Uncle Jim points the remote at the TV and hits play.

Phew!  Stuff blows up!

We are both enjoying the movie and I think Uncle Jim forgot about Aunt Julie.

>Alert!  
>Friendly Target [ Aunt Julie ] Entering Engagement Range!

I look over my shoulder and what I see causes me to almost panic.  Aunt Julie is sauntering down the short flight of stairs wearing a black, mostly sheer negligee with a pair of red high heels and a smirk that exposes her fangs.  Yes...red high heels, not pink or fuchsia or purple, red.

OMG!  The tattoo turned out even better than I expected.  I try not to stare. Okay, I think about trying not to stare, but I cannot turn away from her as she glides over to Uncle Jim.

“Jim? Can you come upstairs and help me?” Aunt Julie says seductively in his ear as she wraps her arms around his neck from behind.

Alert! Alert! Movie! Stuff blowing up!

I manage to force myself to watch the movie. I figure that if I stare at the screen hard enough, maybe I will not even notice Aunt Julie and Uncle Jim.  Oh god, what did I do? Why did I make Aunt Julie look like that and why did she come downstairs?  She knew I was down here. Aren’t old people supposed to be more reserved or something?

Uncle Jim does not say a word as he lets Aunt Julie lead him up away.  Aunt Julie pauses at the bottom of the stairs. “And Chloe?”

“Yes?” My eyes remain fixed on the movie.  She is not going to trick me into looking at her that easily.

“Thanks and we have more movies in the cabinet.”

“Okay...” My mouth feels dry and I can use a glass of water right now, but I guess that it will have to wait.

After “Independence Day” ends, I follow Aunt Julie’s suggestion and hunt for another movie.  There is no way that I am going upstairs right now. Holy cow, I find “Smokin’ Aces”!   My parents would never let me watch that movie, but I need a good distraction right now.  Wow, there are some really cool guns in that movie and my system is able to identify each and every one of them. I am going to have to try some of those in my VR firing range tonight.

After the movie, I sneak up to my room and find the upstairs blissfully quiet.  No evidence of, well, you know...

1.53 hours later...ding!

I am awake again, but I hear some unidentified action emanating from Aunt Julie and Uncle Jim’s room.  I have zero interest in identifying said action so I retreat into my VR space.  It is a good thing that Aunt Julie has the day off, but I think Uncle Jim is going to need a lot of coffee in the morning.

I try out the Barrett that the dude in the movie used.  Wow, a .50 cal sure can pack a wallop.  I am having a lot of fun blowing stuff up when someone taps me on my shoulder.

“Ahhh!” I jump and spin around to face the enemy.  The Barrett is not all that great for close range stuff.  I make it most of the way around before I realize that it is Sara who snuck up on me, ‘again’.  How does she do that and why?

Okay, I guess I know why, but how is she sneaking past my alarm system?

Sara giggles and pushes the barrel away from her as she jumps forward to give me a hug. “Oh, that is a mighty large, umm, rifle ya got there, Bree. Are ya happy to see me or what?”

Oh man, not Sara now too, but I guess I should expect it from her. “No, I mean, yes, I am happy to see ya, but would you please stop sneaking up on me like that?”

Sara has the audacity to pout. “Oh, poo, that’s no fun...”  She perks back up. “So! What kind of trouble did you get into today?”

“Sara!  I do not ‘get’ into trouble, trouble finds me and this time it was some old lady at the grocery store-”

“Yeah, gotta watch out for those old ladies...”

“Sara!  Anyway, Mrs. Grantson, wife of Admiral Grantson. She ran into us at the store and would you believe that she went to the same school that I am supposed to be going to?”

“Wow, what are the odds?” Sara says without surprise.

“Exactly!  Because of that, she invited me to some ball or promotion party thing for Admiral Jensen so she can introduce me to her nephew.”

“On the plus side, no one shot you today, right?”

“Ha ha, no, but I did...umm, never mind.” I blush and stop myself before I admit to making Aunt Julie sorta resemble Sara.

Sara pounces on both my slip up and me, literally.  She tickles me mercilessly while ‘interrogating’ me. “What did you do? Come on, you can tell me...”

I fold before she waterboards me. “Okay, okay...” I pause, gasping for air.  

Sara stops with the tickle torture and holds me at arm’s length as I furiously attempt to gather my thoughts and figure out a way to lie to her about Aunt Julie’s make over.  “Don’t make me kiss you...” She growls.  “...because I don’t have all night. I have some other...” Her eyes narrow in anger. “...‘business’ to attend to as soon as I am done here.”

The way that she said ‘business’ gives me the shivers.  The temperature in my VR space literally seems to drop by a few degrees. I want to know, but at the same time, I don’t want to know.

I decide to stick to the topic on hand. “Okay, I kind of sorta made Aunt Julie sort of resemble you, except, not.”

Sara’s eyes widen with surprise before settling into amusement. “Show me...”

Like an idiot, I make the mistake of showing her what Aunt Julie looked like when she came down to fetch Uncle Jim.  Sara whistles with appreciation before she inspects my holographic model of Aunt Julie from all angles.

“Wow, hubba, hubba. Your Aunt Julie is hot and that tattoo is wicked cool.” Sara looks back to me with a slight bit of concern. “You did that with your magic?”

Now I am worried that she will be mad at me. “Yes, but it is just an illusion...”

Gone is the wicked and playful Sara. She walks over and studies my face. “How hard was it to cast? Did you have to force it?”

I shrug my shoulders. “No, it was pretty easy.  The tattoo caused a little extra essence drain, but not too much.”

Sara studies me for a few more seconds to see if I am lying to her.  She has a way of looking at me that makes me think she really can see into my head. Which is kind of funny, since she is in my head.

“Well, okay, but please take it easy.  I worry about you and don’t want you to accidentally burn yourself out.” Sara gives me a quick hug and a sisterly kiss on my forehead before she pulls back.

Even after she is done, I feel the sensation of her soft lips on my forehead and it makes me tingle all over. I almost forget that she was talking to me. “Oh!” I snap back into the present. “Thanks, I will. I mean, I’ll be careful.”

“Good, you better be! Don’t make me come fetch ya!” Sara stabs her finger into my chest to help drive home how serious she is.

Oh man, she could do that?  Why does that seem even worse than it sounds?

“Based on your encounter at the store, I take it that you got Paige’s present?”

“Yep, how-” I try to ask, but she holds up her hand and shakes her head.  “Okay, got it. It’s a secret...”

“Smart girl, but don’t worry; Paige plans on taking you under her wing.” Sara saunters seductively past me, her fingers trail across my jaw line on her way to my firing station.  She glances down range, inspecting my targets. “Looks like ya had some fun and I would join ya, but sadly, I need to go have a little chat with someone.”

Once again, I get the feeling that whoever she is going to ‘chat’ about ‘business’ is not going to be happy. “Umm, what are you going to-”

Sara stops me with a tight shake of her head. “You don’t need to know.”

“Oh...” Now I am really worried about her.

Sara presses her index finger against her lips. “Shhh...” Then, she gives me a warm hug. “I’ll be fine. It is you that I am worried about.”

“Oh, okaayy...” Now I am even more worried about her.

Sara steps back, gives me a quick appraisal. Her lips quirk into a grin that scares me. “You know, you should try that tattoo on yourself sometime. With your bod, I bet you would totally rock it...”

“Sara!”

“Ha! Well, gotta go...ta ta!” Sara waves and fades away.

As usual, I am both relieved and saddened by her departure.  I briefly debate playing a sniper scenario with my new toy, but I cannot bring myself to go through with it.  Shooting at target silhouettes and watching an actor in a movie is not the same as shooting at a person. I know that it would be more like playing a First Person Shooter on my console at home, but my system is too real. I sigh and shut down my big ass gun, or rifle as Sara euphemistically referred to it.  I don’t feel like blowing stuff up any more.

I am feeling kind of bummed for some reason. So, I spend the rest the very early morning hours reading books and watching TV from the comfort of my living room.  I decide to wear something simple, comfy and not girly. Sweat pants, dark blue, with a simple t-shirt. No Jacuzzi bikini romps, tattoos or dress up playtime for this girl, I mean, person.

<Thursday, 22-Feb-2007 06:00:00>

Uncle Jim’s alarm begins trying to wake the dead. So, I decide to put some comfy clothes on and make some coffee for Uncle Jim and Aunt Julie. I am pretty sure they are both going to be somewhat tired this morning.  Of course, I will officially deny all knowledge of the reasons for that condition.

Wow, I am starting to sound like a secret agent now.

Uncle Jim surprises me by greeting me with an energetic smile and a spring in his step as he ignores the fresh cup of coffee I set in his normal spot at the kitchen counter.  Instead of sitting down and sipping his coffee, he gives me a quick hug and a fatherly kiss on my forehead.  “Thanks.” He says as he releases me.

I am not sure how to take that. “What was that for?”

“Oh, for making coffee...” Uncle Jim airily gestures before taking up his normal spot in front of his cup.

“Okkaaay...” I do not believe him for second, but I also do not want him to really tell me the truth either. Some things are best left unspoken.  “Do you want me to make you a bagel again?”

Aunt Julie decides to make a surprise appearance. “I can do that. Chloe, why don’t you go ahead and relax. Do you want anything?”  

Both of our gazes snap to Aunt Julie.

Uncle Jim smiles with appreciation while I am pretty sure that I look like a deer caught in the headlights.  I know that her punk rock, Goth, sort of Sara appearance should not surprise me, but it does.  She is wearing a fluffy bathrobe, but unlike my mom’s full length robe that almost reaches her ankles, Aunt Julie’s stops mid thigh. Holy crap, she still looks hot. My eyes don’t know what to respectfully focus on.

Her face would normally be the safe target, but the sultry vampire smile she is directing at Uncle Jim is, distracting. Adding to the ‘distraction’ is the tattoo on her legs. I cannot help it; my eyes are drawn down to them. She has such nice legs and except for the tattoo, they are all her own. The glacier melting kiss she bestows on Uncle Jim only adds to my confusion.

Adults are not supposed to act like this with a kid, I mean, a younger person in the room. Well, I guess I have seen my parents kiss each other like that, but my mom never looked like Aunt Julie does right now either.  “Umm, No thanks, I can just go downstairs and watch a movie or something...”

I am a little surprised to see that my illusion is still active on her, but after I switch over to magic sight and inspect it; my illusion appears to be fraying around the edges. I guesstimate that it might last another hour or two, but until then, her hair and makeup will look perfect.  Hmmm, maybe I can use illusionary disguises to make getting ready for school easier.

“Do you want me to cancel the illusion or just let it-” I stop with that line of questioning when Aunt Julie and Uncle Jim decide to give each other a steamy kiss.

Awkward...

I make my retreat, but halfway down the stairs, I hear Aunt Julie giggle. “Jim, not now...”

la la la la!

After Uncle Jim leaves, Aunt Julie makes her way down to the theater room. She leans over and gives me a motherly kiss on my forehead.  What is it with the kisses this morning?  Geez, a little late night, umm, nevermind. I cannot help it, but I catch sight of her cleavage through the gap in her robe. I blame the tattoo for how it wraps around and...well, draws the eye.  

“Thanks Chloe, last night was...magical...” She says as she straightens back up.

“Do you want me to cancel it now?” I somehow manage to ask without my voice betraying the intense mix of confusion I am now feeling.  She is my Aunt, but not my aunt. She is old-er, but not ‘that’ old. I am a girl...

“Sure?” Aunt Julie glances down at her chest as she opens her robe to peek at herself.

I find it very hard not to peek at her chest myself.  She is not wearing a bra and the tattoo looks incredible as it wraps its way sinuously around her upper torso.

Aunt Julie sighs with regret. “I do like the tattoo though...”

I do too, but there is no way that I will admit that to her without turning myself into a bright shade of pink.  “Okay...”  I cancel the illusion.

Her real hair and makeup is a total mess, but at the same time; she still manages to look absolutely sexy to me and darned if I am going to tell her that. What in the hell is wrong with me?

Thankfully, Aunt Julie does not appear to notice my confusion as she absently runs her fingers through her hair. “Oh geez, I must look horrible now...” She says, and then slowly makes her way up the stairs.

No you don’t...

It is hard, but I manage not to do or say anything until after she was out of the room.  

Whooosh!  

I exhale a large sigh of relief.  Holy cow, that was unnecessarily awkward.  

After Aunt Julie is done with the hot water, I decide to follow her example and take a shower.  I find that it is getting easier to deal with my body, but it is still a little strange. I mean, for one I have to wash and condition my hair. Two, the soap is girl smelly good and I have to use a washcloth because my smooth, hair free skin does not lather up as easily.  Finally, and it might be a little weird to view this as a negative, but, I just cannot bring myself to pee in the shower like I used to always do.  

Despite my mom’s protests, when I was a boy, it was not gross to pee in the shower. Just aim it at the drain and hardly a drop would fail to hit my target. See, that is not gross at all, but now? Yes, I know, technically, I could pee standing up like I used to, but then I would get pee all over my legs. I could squat, but that is not the same. Besides, I would still get pee on my feet and that is gross.  Can girls aim?

Even though I did not do anything other than ‘freshen up’, it still takes me almost 20 minutes to finish my shower. Okay, 18.24 minutes, but it might as well be 20 minutes.  No wonder why girls always take so bloody long in the bathroom.  Thank god I did not have to shave my legs or my pits. I do not have a hint of hair anywhere below my eyes and I am perfectly fine with that condition.  I think that I will consider not having to shave my legs as a minor reward for all the hassle of being a girl.

I dress casual in jeans and a t-shirt. Okay, top, sorry.  I wish that was all, but bra plus panties, plus taking some time with my hair, plus attempting to match colors takes me another 30 minutes before I consider myself ready to leave my room.  It is a good thing that I need so little sleep because if I had to wake up an extra hour early just to get ready for school I think that I would have to scream.

I find it a little disconcerting to see myself in the mirror instead of Chloe. I think I have been spending too much time as Chloe. It will be nice to finally get to that Super Mutant High School so that I can be myself. Well, my new self because being my old self would probably take too much essence to keep that kind of illusion active.

The delightful smell of breakfast greets me when I finally make my way downstairs. I follow my nose and as I enter the kitchen, a normal and non-sexy, but still attractive Aunt Julie turns and greets me with a smile. “Chloe, I mean Bree, perfect timing! I was just about to call for you.” She gestures to the pan on the stove. “I made you a mushroom, cheese and sun dried tomato omelet...”

I have never had a meatless omelet, but I practically inhale the thing. So, yummy and before I have a chance to ask, Aunt Julie starts a second.  After breakfast, I help her clean up the kitchen and I am just starting to wonder what we will do today when the doorbell rings.

We both look at each other, followed by the clock for a second before I realize that I am not Chloe.  It is 0950. Alarmed by both the time and by the fact that I am not disguised, I reactivate my Chloe disguise and anxiously wait for Aunt Julie to answer the door. If Mr. Reilly follows yesterday’s agenda, he could be calling any minute now.

“Mrs. Grantson?!?” I hear Aunt Julie say.

Curious about why she is here, I peek my head around the corner. As luck would have it, Mrs. Grantson spots me.

Her face lights up with a smile. “Chloe!”

Aunt Julie steps to the side and looks over her shoulder at me with a helpless expression. Mrs. Grantson takes that as an invitation and enters into the foyer. “Julie, I was in the area and I simply had to stop by and deliver your invitations myself.” She says as she hands Aunt Julie an expensive looking cream colored, I mean white, envelope.

It worries me a teensy tiny bit that I initially thought of the color as ‘cream’ versus white because it is white, just not all white.

*sigh* The things I stress about are truly mind boggling sometimes.

Without pausing for a second to allow Aunt Julie to counter-attack, Mrs. Grantson gives Aunt Julie’s house a quick inspection. “Lovely house you have here, Julie...”

Instead of being rude and pushing her out the door, Aunt Julie turns back to her. “Oh, thank you Mrs. Grantson-”

Mrs. Grantson holds up her hand. “Please Julie, Victoria...”

“Umm, okay, Victoria. You kind of caught me by surprise, but may I show you some more of the house?”

“Oh yes, why that would be delightful!”

“Chloe, would you mind taking Mrs. Gra-, I mean, Victoria’s coat and hanging it up for me please?”

“Umm, yes ma’am.”

“My, what a delightful niece you have, Julie. Such manners...” Mrs. Grantson turns her attention to me. “And, I cannot wait to see you at my party, young lady!”

I hang back as Aunt Julie guides Mrs. Grantson through the ground level of the house. As we pass the stairs that lead down to the home theater room, I cannot help thinking that somewhere down there would make a great hiding spot.  I find myself checking the clock almost constantly. It is 09:59 and Mrs. Grantson is not even close to leaving.  Aunt Julie and she are looking over the back yard and discussing what flowers should be planted in the spring.

>Incoming CDMA signal detected!

*ringggg*

My secret secure cell phone begins to ring from the kitchen counter.  Aunt Julie glances over at it with alarm. With all the chatting she and Mrs. Grantson have been doing, I think that she forgot.

I smile at her and answer the phone from inside my head before it can ring again.

{“Hello?”}  I hesitantly ask before I realize that I probably should have answered the phone more military-like with a “Whisper speaking, how may I direct your call sir or ma’am?”.  I blame Mrs. Grantson’s presence for throwing me off my game.

{“Whisper?”} Mr. Reilly asks.

I can tell that he is using a speaker phone again. He must be in the conference room with everyone else again.  {“Umm, yes sir, sorry. We have company and I am trying to not draw attention to the fact that I am on the phone right now.”}

{“Company? Should we send a team over?”} Captain Howards breaks into the conversation.

{“Ha-ha, umm, sorry sir, but no, that probably would be bad.  It’s Mrs. Grantson, you know, Admiral Grantson’s wife.  Is Admiral Jensen there?”}

{“What?!? I mean, yes, Admiral Jensen speaking...”}

{“Congratulations on your promotion sir. I’m sorry, but Mrs. Grantson ran into us at the store yesterday and now she is here with invitations to your party.  She seems rather insistent that I go...”}

I can practically see Mr. Reilly clutching his head in pain from the headache that I must be causing him right now.  It takes a good 10 or 20 seconds, 17.329 before anyone replies directly to me. During that time I hear some muffled conversion that boils down to, “Should she or shouldn’t she?”

Admiral Jensen clears his throat. {“Yes, well, Whisper, I think that we are all in agreement that it would be a bad idea due to the current guest list. I am sorry, but if your identity got out during the party, it could be somewhat politically dangerous for everyone involved.”}  

He said that to me like I would be heartbroken over the denial. I am not. {“Oh, that’s okay with me sir. I understand and feel the same way. Yes, it would be much, much too dangerous for me to attend...”} I look back over at Aunt Julie and Mrs. Grantson.  They are now sitting the living room and chatting about what she plans on serving at the party. {“But, umm, Mrs. Grantson seems very determined...”}

{“Hmm...”} Admiral Jensen ponders the problem.

Once again, there is some slightly muffled brainstorming between the participants in the conference. It sounds like Admiral Jensen knows Mrs. Grantson well.  She is unofficially known as “Hurricane Victoria” because once she gets started on something, she is almost impossible to stop.  I find that extremely funny because I can see her flattening all resistance in her path.

{“What if she is in the Witness Protection Program?”} Mrs. Townsend asks, sounding a little hesitant to be speaking up with all the heavyweights in the room.

That idea is greeted favorably and it even makes sense with Uncle Jim being the prosecuting attorney, but Admiral Jensen feels pretty certain that Mrs. Grantson would simply call the Governor or someone in the Justice Department to see what they could do to help poor Chloe.

{“Whisper, can you put Mrs. Grantson on the phone?”} Admiral Jensen asks with some reluctance.

{“Sir! Yes sir!”} Is it wrong for me to feel so eager to see how Mrs. Grantson takes the news?  I briefly consider asking them if they want me to open up the monitor to allow video so they can see what I see, but decide not to because that could be kind of creepy.

I grab the secure phone and walk into the living room presenting the phone to Mrs. Grantson. “Ma’am, sorry to interrupt, but Admiral Jensen wants to speak to you.”

Maybe I should have opened up the video.  Mrs. Grantson’s reaction is totally priceless.  I don’t think that I have ever seen someone so shocked.  “What?” Mrs. Grantson asks incredulously as she accepts the phone from me.

Even Aunt Julie looks surprised, but I think she can tell that I am enjoying this a little too much. “Chloe...” She frowns at me.

{“Victoria, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it would be ill-advised for ‘Chloe’ to attend the party.”}

“Jack? What? How?” Mrs. Grantson sputters as she looks back and forth between me and Aunt Julie.

Admiral Jensen chuckles. {“That’s kind of a long story, Victoria and sadly, not one I can share at the moment. OPSEC, you understand, but I can tell you that Chloe’s anonymity is key to the current mission and it would be very risky for Chloe to attend the party due to the current guest list.”}

Mrs. Grantson’s shock and confusion ends pretty darn fast, too fast. “I see...” She pauses to examine me, her head tilted to the side as she studies me with far more intensity than she has before.

I almost feel like she has some super power and can read me like my mom does.  I dart a quick glance to Aunt Julie for reassurance. Aunt Julie is sitting very stiffly and giving the situation her full attention. She shakes her head once to signal for me to not do anything stupid. Well, either that, or something else.  I never have been good with non-verbal.

Mrs. Grantson nods once as if reaching a decision. “Okay Jack, but I expect a full report when and if it is safe to do so.”

{“I will see what I can do, Victoria, but it may take awhile. This one goes all the way to the top of the flagpole...”}

Mrs. Grantson’s eyes widen with shock and something else, recognition. I think she knows who I am. Maybe I am better at the non-verbal communication thing than I realized.

“Understood, is there anything else that I should know?”

{“Hehe, not at the moment Victoria, but I almost do wish that Chloe could attend. I would love to actually meet the young lady who seems to be as adept in getting into trouble as you are at finding it.”}

Mrs. Grantson smiles and her eyes twinkle with a mischievous fire. “Someone has to keep you men on your toes.  I swear that if the Navy didn’t issue you all uniforms, you all would be helpless!”

Admiral Jensen chuckles. {“Yes, maybe we should appoint you to the next uniform review board?”}

“Oh heavens no! I thought you liked me...” Mrs. Grantson shudders.

{“Well, we need to debrief ‘Chloe’ on a few more items. It should only take a few more minutes. Can you give her back the phone?”}

{“I’m here...”}

Mrs. Grantson appears surprised to hear me speaking on her phone while I am standing in front of her and not moving my lips.

Admiral Jensen sighs. {“I keep forgetting that little detail...Can you hang up your phone Victoria?”}

Mrs. Grantson hesitantly nods. “Okkaayy...” She fumbles for a second until I point out the red highlighted disconnect button.  “Well, that certainly is a surprise!”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry.” I take half a step back, expecting her to be mad at me.

She laughs and waves away my troubling thought. “Oh pshaw! Not your fault young lady, but, if you need anything; feel free to let me know. I am sure that the dashing men failed to properly equip a young lady for the rigors at hand.”

{“Captain Howards, was there any equipment that Whisper needed?”} Admiral Jensen whispers.

Crap. I kind of forgot that I had the audio routed so they could hear what I hear.

{“Not that I am aware of sir...”}

Mr. Reilly clears his throat to speak. {“She was kind of dropped on Mr. and Mrs. Stiles with only the clothes on her back.”}

I don’t know why I feel the need to be ashamed by the fact that Mrs. Grantson hit the nail on the head with that observation, but I find myself glancing down at my clothes.  The clothes that Aunt Julie bought me. “Umm, maybe a little...” I see Mrs. Grantson’s triumphant expression and it worries me because I bet she will want to take me shopping, or something. “But, Aunt Julie took care of that already!”

Mrs. Grantson turns to Aunt Julie with a smile. “You picked that excellent outfit she was wearing yesterday?”

“Yes, I wanted her to have at least one good general purpose professional outfit. I would have liked to get her more, but I only had a couple of hours.” Aunt Julie appears both relieved and proud about the praise she received.

I do not like the direction that this conversation appears to be heading. If Mrs. Grantson offers to take me shopping, I think I will scream. Why does everyone want to take me shopping?  What is it about being a girl that means I need to shop for clothes all the bleeping time?  Video game shopping, that I could understand.  They release new games every week, but clothes?  Clothes are just clothes, the only thing that is new about clothes are their colors, right?

I am jarred from my thoughts by Mrs. Grantson. “Oh my, Chloe dear, is everything okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“Oh, sorry, I was just, umm, thinking.  Please tell me that you are not thinking about trying to take me shopping-”

“Chloe!” Aunt Julie says.

{“Brianna Nicole!”} My mom says.

I cast my gaze down to the floor. I feel a little ashamed for my outburst. Well, maybe more embarrassed than ashamed. “Wellllll, sorry, but shopping and I do not mix.” My eyes begin to tear up and my voice catches in my throat. “Ever since, this...” I gesture to my body. “I can’t seem to go out in public without someone trying to hurt or kidnap me...”

Aunt Julie starts to reach for me. “Oh, dear...”

That ends it for me.  The dam breaks and my tears begin to flow. I hate all this crying. I hate all the people trying to kill me. I hate feeling so helpless and having everyone telling me what to do. I just want to be normal again.  “Why can’t everyone just leave me alone?”  I manage to get out as I lose all control of my emotions.  

I push myself away from Aunt Julie, disconnect the phone and run up to my room with tears streaming down my face.  I throw myself onto my bed and scream into the pillow.  Sometime during my meltdown, the secure phone rings again, but I ignore it.  I simply grab my pillow and hug it to my body like it was a big fluffy teddy bear. I am not saying that I have used one of those objects because my mom carefully packed away Mr. Snugs when I out grew the silly thing two years ago.  It got too embarrassing to have in my room when my friends came over. I miss Mr. Snugs.

“Chloe?” Aunt Julie cautiously steps into my room.

I hug the pillow tighter to my body and press my face into it in the false hope that Aunt Julie will go away.  

Aunt Julie settles down next to me and sort of surprises me, causing me to flinch as she gently touches my shoulder. “Chloe, sweetie, it’s okay.”

I refuse to look at her. “No, it’s not...and I’m not Chloe. I’m not even me!”

“Oh dear...” Aunt Julie hugs me. “I know that it has been hard on you the last few days, but you do have people who care about you.”

Is that supposed to make me feel better? “Yeah, but I also have a lot of people who want to kill me.”

Aunt Julie hugs me even tighter, giving me an affectionate kiss on my forehead and then, releasing me with a sigh.  “I wish I had a way to refute that statement, but I don’t.  It’s true, but you don’t have to let those people run your life.”

“Well, they are and there is nothing I can do about it. I can’t go home, I can’t go to a mall, I can’t go to Amanda’s slumber party and I can’t go to Mrs. Grantson’s party even though there will be tons of military folks there.  What can I do?”

“Yes, right now all that is true, but it won’t always be. A couple of weeks from now everyone will have forgotten all about you and all this...” Aunt Julie waves her hands around. “Will seem like a bad memory. Heck, you might even think it was fun because how many people get to live through a spy movie?”

I cannot believe that she would make that comparison. I look up and spot her mischievous smirk. “Fat chance of that ever happening...”

“Come on, what about my disguise? You have to admit that you had fun sneaking that tattoo in, right?”  She sits back down on the bed and faces me.

I refuse to give in and agree with her. Even if she is right.  

“And, what about Amanda?  You liked hanging out with her and I won’t even go into the fact that you get to hang out with two cool older people like me and Jim!”

Dang it!  I want to keep sulking, but Aunt Julie is breaking past my defenses.  I accidently smile.

“There you go, dear, you’re so pretty when you smile like that.” Aunt Julie softly rubs the back of her finger under my eye, wiping away a tear.

I want to protest about being called ‘pretty’ because I’m not. Chloe is pretty, but she is just an illusion.  Then, I realize that my Chloe illusion is not active.  I bolt upright. “Oh my god! My disguise, did?” I look at Aunt Julie as my heart beats wildly in my chest.

She nods once. “Yes, it dropped when you left us and Mrs. Grantson felt so bad about causing you so much pain.  She asked me to let her know the next time you are going to in town so that she can throw a big fancy party for you and all your friends.”

“Ummm, I don’t really have friends here...”

“You have Amanda, and she has friends, the friends that are going to be at her slumber party. I am betting that they would love to meet you and go to a party.”

It sounds like it could be fun, but I am not convinced. “Maybe, if I didn’t get the party raided by the MCO or someone else...”

Aunt Julie laughs at me. “Oh Chloe, I don’t think that you would have to worry about that. Mrs. Grantson would defeat them with a single glare!”

I cannot help it. I can picture Mrs. Grantson doing that and that causes me to giggle because it is such an absurd idea.

“There you go dear. See, it’s not all bad.” Aunt Julie smirks and then suddenly becomes all business. “Now, I need your help getting the other guest room ready.”

Someone is coming to visit?  How can that be okay with me here? “What?”

“Your mom. Mr. Reilly decided that it might be a good idea if she was here with you. So, they are going to smuggle her out this afternoon.” Aunt Julie grabs me by my shoulders and looks into my eyes with a serious expression. “Well, unless you don’t want to see her...”

My eyes snap open and I gasp with shock that she would try to imply that I would not want to see my mom. “Aunt Julie! You know that I...”

She starts to giggle.

“You are so mean.”  I say as I struggle and fail, to not smile, happy with her news.

“Yep, but first, let’s go down to the kitchen. I think a mug of hot cocoa is just what the doctor ordered.”

“Ha-ha, doctor...okay, but can I have marshmallows in mine?”
 

**

MCO Special Agent Lanier was in a foul mood this afternoon.  All of his men were avoiding him as he sat, brooding in his office.  The meet with the anonymous source was another dead end.  Whomever he or she was, they never showed and he wasted two hours sitting around in the damn coffee shop when he could have been here getting caught up on all the f’ing paperwork.

This damn Whisper or whatever she was or might be called, was turning into a monumental pain in the ass.  He was frustrated, his boss was frustrated and because of that, he could tell that his boss’s boss was also frustrated by the lack of progress.  The MCO ‘never’ has had this much trouble finding a rogue mutant or any mutant before.  The MCO has never had the U.S. Government actively working against them and stonewalling them at every turn either.

He found that little fact the most troubling because MCO’s popularity and public support has never been so low.  “We are the good guys, damnit!” Agent Lanier slammed his fist down on his desk.  “Can’t the public see that we are the only thing keeping them safe from the mutants?”

His thoughts were interrupted by a polite knock on his open office door frame.  He looked up and spotted Agent Forester standing anxiously, holding a printout in her hands.  “Umm, sir, sorry, but I spotted this little article on the CIA news blog.”

His frustration momentarily forgotten by both the sight of the attractive Agent Forester and his curiosity piquedby her find, he smiled and motioned her to come into his office. “Come in, come in. What did you find?”

Reassured by the fact that her boss was not yelling at her, she cautiously entered his office and set the printout on his desk.  Agent Lanier quickly scanned the brief contents of the printout. “What the?” He looked up at Agent Forester.

“I think that he may have been involved with our little Whisper hunt. Director Falk surprised everyone by suddenly retiring from the CIA yesterday and this morning he was found dead by his wife. Apparently, he killed himself...or something.”

Agent Forester’s news made sense. It made a lot of sense actually, but why would he commit suicide if he was planning on meeting with him?  Was it really a suicide?

“Was there a note or something?”

Agent Forester shook her head slowly back and forth. “The article didn’t mention one, but if he did suddenly, as they say, retire. Maybe he was actually ‘burned’ by the CIA and maybe he was feeling depressed?”

“That’s a big ‘maybe’, but if he was planning on meeting with me...” Agent Lanier abruptly stood and paced back and forth as he considered the implications.  ‘If’ the late Director Falk was really the person he was supposed to meet and ‘if’ he was also forced to retire from the CIA instead of retired on his own and ‘if’ he really knew anything about Whisper, then, did the CIA kill him and make it look like a suicide?

If that was the case, then holy fucking shit, the U.S. Government was very fucking serious about keeping whoever this Whisper mutant is, a secret.  That idea scared the crap out of him, but at the same time, it made him even more curious about what the big secret really was.  Just who or what was this Whisper ‘thing’?

Agent Lanier looked up and was startled to see Agent Forester still in his office.

“Sir?”

“Good work with spotting this.” He looked over and smiled at Forester. “Notify Special Agent Billings and have him pull back all the surveillance teams.  I’ll update leadership and advise them to drop our active investigation, but also to keep an eye open in case Whisper shows up somewhere else, like that fucking Whateley place.”

“Yes sir, but if it shows up there, what can we do?”

“Well, not much, but the MCO still has the right to interview and access any newly registered mutant. Whateley may be a cesspit for mutants, but they still have to follow the law!”

Agent Forester took that as her cue to slip out of the office. Her boss probably didn’t want to know that the last MCO interview team at Whateley had been kicked out for attempting to conduct an illegal, off the record interview.
 

**

I help Aunt Julie straighten up the other guest bedroom and eat another excellent Aunt Julie prepared lunch. Sadly, she has to leave for a few hours to visit her patients. Before she leaves, she reminds me to reactivate my Chloe disguise. I am not sure how I feel about that. It was kind of nice to not have it active for a few hours.  While I was in Brianna mode, Aunt Julie used my new real name and somehow, I found that comforting. As strange as it may sound, I even enjoyed helping Aunt Julie clean and prep my mom’s room.  I ‘never’ would have thought that kind of chore to be fun before.  What in the heck is wrong with me?  Did I get infected with some girl cleaning instinct?

My mom arrives, promptly at 1500 hours, escorted by Captain Howards and two of his men.  I did not know what time she was due to arrive, but since the doorbell rang at exactly 1500 hours, I assume that 1500 hours was the plan.  

As soon as I open the door, my mom bursts forth and scoops me up into a bone crushing hug. “Oh my god sweetie! Look at you!” She pulls away to inspect all of me. “You look so...different!” She resumes squishing me to death. “I was so worried about you!  Is Mrs. Stiles here?”

I make a show of coughing a few times to refill my lungs after she releases me. “Geez Mom, and I thought that the bad guys were bad. You could have killed me with that hug!”

She laughs and gives me another squishy hug. “But, I missed you so much!”

Feeling uncharacteristically buoyant, I pull her towards the kitchen to help make room for Captain Howards and his men to enter the house.  We were kind of blocking the doorway and they have both my mom’s suitcase and my suitcase in their hands.  My suitcase is pretty light, but I know my mom’s is not so light.

“Sorry, but she had to visit her office to check on some patients and I think she was planning on picking up some more food at the store, or something. She’s an awesome cook, Mom!” I notice that my mom looks a little upset by my praise. “But, not as good as you...”

My mom waves away my praise as she takes in the kitchen. “Brianna, you don’t have to defend my cooking. I’m just grateful that Mr. and Mrs. Stiles were willing and able to take you in under such short notice. Especially under the conditions...”

Captain Howards steps forward as his men take positions that give them maximum visibility of both the front and rear entry ways. “About the ‘conditions’...it appears that the MCO has given up trying to find you.  I was notified that they pulled away all their surveillance teams on our way here.”

“Really?!?” I glance between him and my mom in an attempt to see if he is trying to pull my leg. My mom nods with agreement.

“Yes, but I am not sure why.” Captain Howards frowns. “I thought that the MCO was more determined.”

I helplessly shrug my shoulders. “Maybe they realized that I wasn’t a threat?”

“No, I doubt that.” Captain Howards slowly shakes his head. “The spooks are probably going crazy trying to figure it out but, they appear to be out of the picture, for now.”

Oh wait, if the MCO is not looking for me. “Oh, so does that mean that I might have to go to Mrs. Grantson’s party now?” I cringe a little because I kind of expect him to say, “Yes.”

His eyes twinkle as he chuckles at me. “As delightful as it may be to have you attend, I don’t think you have to worry about that. Even without the MCO, all the other reasons as to why it would be a bad idea still exist.”

“Thank god...” I whisper with relief.

“Brianna!”

I grimace and turn back to my mom. “Sorry Mom, but I just don’t think that I am ready to get all dressed up for some stuffy formal military thing.” Belatedly, I realize that I may have just insulted Captain Howards. I turn back to him. “Sorry! I didn’t mean...”

He laughs with genuine mirth and even his men break into a quick smile before wiping all the evidence away. “Oh, you’re right. They can get kind of ‘stuffy’, but the food is excellent and as much as I hate to admit it, they can be good for your career.”

“Oh, good...”

Captain Howards purses his lips with consideration. “But, it could be fun to have you there. Just thinking about all the trouble you might cause makes me smile because a fire fight in the middle of a formal ball would certainly be memorable!”

I know that he is joking, but I don’t know how to take his idea of fun. I helplessly glance to my mom for support, but all she does is smirk and shrug her shoulders as if to say, “it could happen.”  Well, that is what my rudimentary body language interpretation skills come up with for a translation.

“He-he, I’m kidding, but, honestly, I cannot wait for you to join the Navy and have you under my command. I think that you will make a fine addition to the Navy.”

“What? I thought I had to join the Army?”

“No, Whateley is an Army JROTC, but that doesn’t mean you have to join the Army. Besides, have you seen anyone from the Army trying to help you?” Captain Howards glances around the room as if looking for a hidden Army dude.

“Umm, no?”

“He-he, see?” Captain Howards’ posture returns to his relaxed and ready for action stance. “Anyway, I do hope that you will seriously consider the Navy when it is time for you to make your decision.”

I glance up to his eyes and meet his gaze. “Okay, I will. Thanks for your help!”

Like the professional he is, he raises his hand to initiate a handshake. Instead of shaking his hand, I feel the urge to hug him. I decide to succumb to my girl instincts for two reasons. One, because I want to and two, because it will probably surprise or embarrass him in front of his men. I give him a ninja hug before he can react and I follow my sneak attack up with a tippy toe kiss on his cheek. After all, that is what Chloe would do, right?

“Yes, umm, well, it has been a pleasure meeting you...” Captain Howards blushes a nice shade of red.

I cannot help feel a deep sense of satisfaction by his reaction and by the fact that both of his men grin at their boss’s reaction.  I find it even more amusing when their faces return to blank slates as he turns to face them.

I will ignore the fact that I kissed a guy and the slightly rough texture of his clean shaven face against my lips. I will also ignore the fresh, subtle spicy scent of his aftershave and how nice I think it smells on him. I never noticed how handsome he is before. What a minute?!?! What in the heck am I thinking?  

As I drop back down from my tippy toes and spin to face my flabbergasted mom, I feel my face heat up with what has to be a bright shade of red.  Oh man, I really hope that my Chloe illusion is not showing my blush right now.

What is wrong with me? Camouflage, yeah, yeah, that’s the ticket.

Since Aunt Julie is not home and I am officially her niece, I see Captain Howards and his men out. All is quiet until I arrive back in the kitchen and my mom giggles at me. “Oh my god Bree, that was pretty funny how you got him to blush, but even more was the matching shade of red your face displayed!”

“Mooomm!”