Chapter 1
"Davey, wake up." The voice floated on the outer edge of awareness, but I did my best to ignore it completely. It was hopeless, I knew. I'd have to open my eyes and face reality again, but I didn't want to do that.
"Davey, I'm not going to say it again, get your butt out of bed!" The deep voice was filled with a dangerous tone now, but I still wanted to pretend it didn't exist.
By the end of the year two-thousand and four, I was physically thirty-six years old. Thanks to my participation in a mad scientist's time-travel experiment, I was mentally sixty years old. The first time I'd reched the age of thirty-six I'd been thrown back through time into my twelve-year old body and forged a new life from the one that I'd known originally.
Instead of being single and near-broke by 2004, I had managed to fall in love and build a happy marriage to the man of my dreams. We were as happy together at thirty-six as we had been at fourteen, and we'd managed to create a successful business that earned us millions in the nineties. Together we owned, and ran, a franchise of more than sixty movie theater complexes world-wide. I was also a Captain in the United States Naval Reserves, and that had led me to this situation now, where I did not want to open my eyes and face reality.
"David Ray Jones, get your butt out of bed this instant!" The voice roared and I let out a sigh before pulling the covers down from over my head. Sunlight filtered into the room from the window to my left, and I looked at the doorway where Dad stood, an angry look on his face.
"Sorry, Dad." I said swiftly, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed. The mirror on my closet door showed me the sight I knew would be there, and I stifled a groan at my twelve-year old body. It wasn't the slight amount of pudginess or the pale skin, or general lack of conditioning when I was use to being very much in-shape; it was the fact that I was twelve again when I had no desire to be here or be this age again.
"What is the matter with you this morning?" I could hear the concern in Dad's voice and I had to suppress a shudder. Even in this second 'do over', I couldn't help feeling the urge to try to make my relationship with him better. I'm sure a psychologist would go on for hours about the need for parental approval.
"I had trouble getting to sleep last night." I answered after a long pause. Dad paused in the doorway for a few minutes before nodding slowly. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get up."
"Don't worry about it, but you only have fifteen minutes to be ready for school and it's a long walk." Dad said with a nod of his head before shutting the bedroom door. Naturally it didn't occur to him that he could drive me there, or even partway there to make it so I wouldn't have to run all the way. Then again, this body could really use a good run. In either case, I had to hurry to get ready. Carefully avoiding any thoughts about my husband of the past twenty-two years, I got ready for a day of sixth-grade school. It was Monday, March 30th, 1981 and I had sixth-grade to attend, and a world to save.
Jeans and a basic t-shirt were the best selections I could find in the closet, after tripping over the Millennium Falcon and Star Wars action figures strewn all over the closet floor. I could hear my sister yelling for me to hurry up, and my breath hitched in my throat. I wanted to run out there and hug both her and mom. In my first life, they'd both died before me, and in my second they'd died before I reached eighteen. They were alive again, though, and that hurt enough. Maybe if I interacted with them as minimally as possible I wouldn't have to attend their funeral again.
"What's up with you?" Jenny's voice was full of sarcasm. "Did you forget to do your homework again?"
"Shut up." I retorted with a flash of anger. I had no idea why the anger burst out like that, I mean this was my sister and she had died twenty years ago in my memories. I should be hugging her and crying over her being here, but her words had made me angry. I grabbed the folder of homework off of my desk/dresser combination and sighed with relief when I opened it to find that I had indeed done my homework.
Okay, the world's in danger again and I'm here back in the past to fix things, again, and I'm worried that my twelve-year-old self did his homework. Jenny just shrugged at my comment and led the way downstairs. This was the same townhouse we'd lived in all the way through junior high and the first few months of high school in my first life, and through until my family split up over Brian and me in my second life. That thought nearly brought tears to my eyes, but I pushed thoughts of the man I'd married aside. He was effectively dead, and my love for him was not going to do me any good at all in this new situation.
"Your mom's already gone to work." Dad said as we came downstairs. He looked… exasperated was the best word I could think of when he looked at his watch. "I'll drop you two off at the corner of Calwell Street. You can walk the rest of the way there if you hurry."
"Thanks." I said while Jenny just nodded. She was nibbling on a pop tart and I almost asked for one before realizing I wasn't really hungry. Dad led the way out, locking the door behind us and then moving quickly to lead the way to the car. It was an older brown Buick that he'd bought from Nanny and Papa, my mom's parents. Jenny piled into the front seat, and then turned as if she expected me to protest. I didn't, and just got into the back without saying anything.
"You sick?" Jenny asked as dad pulled out of the complex's parking lot.
"I'm just not feeling well." I said with a shrug. "I'll be fine later."
"You sure?" Dad asked and I just grunted in the affirmative. He pulled up to the stop sign on Calwell and motioned for us to get out. He drove off rather quickly and I put down the urge to wonder what trouble he was going to get into today. I'd already decided I wasn't going to do anything about things this time around. There was a mission to complete, and completing that mission would effectively end my life. I knew that this might happen when I boarded that plane, and I'd volunteered for this mission. He'd known this might happen as well, and I'd seen that when I looked into his eyes before leaving. He'd kissed me oh so gently, and not said a word as I left. He'd wanted to give me a last memory filled with love, not harsh words, and he'd done that.
"We're going to be late." Jenny's plaintive voice brought me back to my current reality and I looked at her sharply. It was good to see her again, but I knew that could change at any moment no matter what I did. That's why I just nodded and took off at a pace that made it hard for her to keep up.
My breath was burning in my throat by the time we reached the school, and Jenny was panting heavily. She gave me a dirty look as we entered the schoolyard. I just shook my head, and ignored the feeling of guilt that rose in me at her stare. She couldn't be expected to understand that I wasn't really twelve, and I'd lost enough for one lifetime, much less two or three.
My first 'do over' had been unintentional on my part. This new one was intentional in that I'd made the decision before going into that facility that I might have to go back in time again. That fact only made this worse, because I was giving up everything I'd worked so hard to hold on to, and to build, because duty required that I do so.
It all came down to duty as I walked up to the front of the elementary school where the pay phone was located. We still had five minutes before classes began and I could use those five minutes to start the ball rolling. A little voice whispered in my head that I could not make the phone call, I could just go about my life, and maybe keep my sister and mother alive while rebuilding my relationship with Brian. If no one knew I was from the future, and I could keep that secret so much better this time, I could find Brian easily and build a friendship with him. That's all it would take, being his friend and I knew as he got older he'd eventually fall in love with me and we could be a couple again.
Sure, it wouldn't be the same. He would not remember the last time around, and our love from there, but we'd be a couple again and that was what was important. He'd been an important part of my life, the other half of my soul, really, and if I made this phone call the chances of us repeating that wonderful marriage was slim. I reached the pay phone and was relieved to see it was empty. If I hesitated I knew I wouldn't pick it up.
In sixty years of remembered life, I'd never been so split, so torn in what to do. In both lifetimes I'd taken an oath to protect and defend this country, and right now that oath required me to give up the love of my life. Many people would have turned their backs on that, not given up their love for a country that in 1981 hated people like him and would sooner spit on him than welcome him.
Still, those things could change in time, and more than likely would. In 2004, the second time around, fourteen states had either full, legal marriage for gay people or civil unions that held almost all the rights and responsibilities of marriage. Eight states had constitutional amendments banning such relationships, but the federal government recognized them fully. That was so different, so much better than the first 2004, and of course 1980, so I knew things would change.
Even if I didn't make the phone call, I knew that I was not necessarily safe. HE was alive and could be present in this time frame right here and now. He was the reason it had become necessary for me to give up my life and come back here, and he knew where I lived in this time period. With the right resources, he could kill me easily, and I knew he would. Also, if Sean was right, my dead nemesis Alexei Shevardnadze would still appear in two years and he'd make sure I was dead, although he wouldn't know about my second life time of experiences.
Okay, I had to chuckle as I picked up the phone at that thought. The intricacies of time travel were complex enough to give anyone headaches. As I put the receiver to my ear, I began punching buttons on the phone. The first number was an access code that allowed anyone who knew the code to call from any pay phone without putting money in first. It was a secret that such codes existed, but I'd memorized all the codes from the late 1970's to the mid-1980's just in case. After the dial tone clicked back on I dialed another number that I didn't have to memorize. I'd known this number for years and it never changed, although it was never found in a public phone book.
"White House Security Desk, Special Agent Williams speaking, this is a non-secure line." The male voice was brisk as it spoke the standard phrase on most government or military phones.
"This is David Ray Jones." I said slowly and as calm as I could. My voice was a lot higher-pitched than it would be after I finished puberty, but at least it wasn't shaking or cracking. "I am calling from El Vista Elementary School in Modesto, California. The President will be leaving for his speech at the AFL-CIO luncheon in the Washington D.C. Hilton at approximately 1:45. He will finish the speech at approximately 2:20 and exit the building. When he exits the building a twenty-six year old man named John Hinckley Jr., who is of medium build with sandy blond hair will open fire hitting the President, a Secret Service Agent, a local police officer, and Press Secretary James Brady. His weapon is loaded with Devastator bullets, but the one that hits the President will fail to explode. John Hinckley arrived in Washington yesterday, on a bus from Los Angeles and stayed at the Park Central Hotel. Last October he was arrested for possession of a handgun at a campaign stop for President Carter."
"Is this a joke?" The voice sounded horrified and amused at the same time. "How did you get this number? How old are you?"
"This isn't a joke, how I got this number is not something I will state on a non-secure line, and I am physically twelve years old." I answered his questions succinctly.
"Okay, who put you up to this?" Agent Williams said with a gruff laugh. "Did Colmes put you up to this? Kid, you better be part of a joke that's being played on me because making crank phone calls like this will land you in jail no matter how young you are."
"Agent, this is no joke." I said as the bell for classes rang. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have classes to attend. I'm sure you'll want to send some officers to question me whether you believe what I've told you or not. Don't worry, I'll be class until then."
"Wait!" The agent exclaimed but he was too late. I hung up the phone and walked into the school. My class was on the far side of the school and I moved quickly, but still walked into my sixth-grade classroom two minutes late. Mr. Lietz was taller than I remembered, and he seemed much more frail and elderly as well. Still, he had the characteristic frown on his face and it looked like he'd just finished leading the pledge of allegiance when I walked in to the room. He turned and frowned at my entrance and for a moment I was flummoxed as to where my desk was. I vaguely remembered that I was assigned to the back row and found the only empty desk there, in the middle row. I moved to it quickly and sat down as the rest of the class took their seats. They were all looking at Mr. Lietz and at me, waiting for the eventual dressing down that would be coming my way. I looked up at the chalk board, and the familiar phrase that hung above it, and actually relaxed a little.
"Mr. Jones, you are late." Mr. Lietz said severely, frowning at me from the front of the class. He was standing in the exact middle of the classroom and the phrase "What You Ask For Is What You Get" was perfectly centered behind him.
"Yes sir, and I have no valid reason for being late." I agreed with him, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. He stared at me for a few moments and I had to work hard to suppress the grin that threatening to break out on my face. He was a strict disciplinarian in the classroom, but he respected honesty.
"Two laps at recess." Mr. Lietz finally said and I could see my classmates reacting with surprise. He usually gave four when people were tardy. They could accept the laps and he would not mark the tardiness on the roll sheet, or they could refuse the laps and they'd be marked as tardy.
"Thank you, sir." I replied with a nod of my head and his eyebrows rose again.
"Very well, I see Mr. Smith is not here again." Mr. Lietz said with a heavy sigh and I remembered the kid he was talking about. I had known the kid vaguely in both lifetimes. At twelve he was already smoking pot and had dropped out before finishing his Sophomore year of high school both times. "Since he was the first person to be giving the oral report today we'll skip him. Ms. Huffer, please start your report."
Melissa Huffer was another girl that I remembered. In my first lifetime, I'd had a crush on her brother, Jason, but they'd moved away over the upcoming summer and I never saw them again. Melissa was the only other person in the class whose grades rivaled mine, and we'd been quite competitive. As she spoke, I had vague recollections of her report and remembered that I hadn't started mine yet and would have to give it tomorrow - assuming I was still in this school.
Two more reports followed hers before the morning recess bell rang. I was slightly surprised no police officers had shown up yet, but knew they would eventually thanks to that phone call I'd made. For recess I jogged the two laps of the school's large playing fields I'd been assigned at the fastest pace my out-of-shape twelve-year old body could manage. Mr. Lietz was visible in front of the classroom where he stood leaning on the golf club he used as a cane. After my second lap, I continued for a third, and then a fourth before my body declared that it had had enough for now. I came to a stop near Mr. Lietz and tried to get my breathing under control. I was sweaty, but for the first time since I'd woken in this body just after midnight, I wasn't feeling totally depressed.
"I said two laps, Mr. Jones." Mr. Lietz said sternly, but without condescension.
"Yes, sir." I agreed with him quickly. "The last two were for my benefit."
"You usually hate having to run laps." Mr. Lietz observed. "I almost hope you'll improve your handwriting next."
"That, sir, is not likely to happen." I answered with a smile. I'd missed seeing Mr. Lietz the last time I went back in time, and had forgotten how much I liked and respected this man. He was among the best teachers I'd ever had, and the fairest. It was a shame that the public school system couldn't clone him and put him in every classroom. When they were his students, kids feared him, but when they were adults, almost all of them looked back with respect and gratitude towards him. He gave tough homework assignments, firm discipline, but he'd also stay after school for hours if a student asked for his help on an assignment.
"Anything is possible if you put your mind to it, young man." Mr. Lietz's voice was filled with amusement as I got my breathing under control. "Are you prepared for your report on the Revolutionary War?"
"I'm not finished yet." I admitted with a shrug. "It will be, though."
"Good, I expect you to do at least as well as Ms. Huffer." Mr. Lietz replied. The bell ended the conversation and I headed inside and back to my desk. Several classmates looked at me oddly, but besides Melissa Huffer and Dennis Smith, I didn't really remember any of them, so I didn't say anything before class began again and we turned in our math homework. The math was far too easy for me and I was bored during the lesson. Still, I knew better than to daydream out the window. Mr. Lietz would not appreciate that. I kept waiting for the Principal to arrive with a police officer or two in tow, but he didn't. Things were quiet all the way through the rest of the morning lessons, and I even managed to beat Melissa on finishing the in-class math work. Of course I had forty-eight years on her and had completed far more math than her sixth-grade brain had been exposed to yet.
It was only after lunch that the Principal arrived with the expected officers. He at least could have saved me from the wretched gunk that passed for food here, but such wasn't in the cards for me. Mr. Lietz frowned at the interruption to his class, but nodded for me to leave. I stood and left the room, while the officers waited for the door to shut before speaking to me.
"Are you David Jones?" The first officer, a man in his mid-thirties asked with a huge frown on his face.
"Yes, I am." I answered evenly.
"Did you make a phone call to the White House at seven fifty-five this morning?" The same officer asked me.
"Yes I did." I admitted calmly.
"We have some questions we need to ask you." The officer stated with a very stern look at me. "You'll be coming downtown with us."
"You can't do that!" The Principal stated with shock. "I can't let you take him off school grounds unless you're arresting him and a prank call to the White House isn't something that should get him arrested him."
"We've been told to hold him until the FBI arrives." The first officer said sternly.
"It's okay, sir." I spoke up, directing my comments to the Principal. "Just give my Dad a call at the house. He should be back by now."
"Are you sure, son?" The Principal asked and I almost bristled at the term 'son'. I was far too old for that, but he didn't know that.
"Its fine, sir." I said, then nodded to the first police officer who started walking towards the front of the school. They didn't handcuff me, but I did ride in the back of the car to the downtown police station. I wasn't surprised that they took me to one of the interrogation rooms, or that there were two men in dark suits waiting when I was brought inside.
"This him?" One of the agents asked. He was tall and built like a linebacker. I guessed his age to be around his late thirties. The other agent was of medium height and in his mid-forties at least. Both were frowning at me.
"It's him." The first officer stated before closing the door and leaving.
"Have a seat, young man." The second agent said, pointing to the table. I moved quickly to sit in the chair. It was one of those old metal chairs, and the table was of cheap wood. My back was straight and I waited for the two men who looked at me with appraising glances.
"The Secret Service arrested a John Hinckley at the Washington Hilton at exactly two p.m. eastern time." The first agent stated flatly. "He was armed with a pistol and we believe he was intending to shoot President Reagan. The Secret Service was looking for him based on a phone call placed from outside your school by someone claiming to be you."
"It was me." I answered the unspoken question evenly and without hesitation.
"How did you know what he was planning, young man?" The first agent asked intently.
"I'm sorry, I didn't get your names." I stated with a slight smile. "I'm David Jones."
"I'm Special Agent John Ford." The older man answered my challenge with a smile and a polite nod. "This is Agent Meyers. We're from the Sacramento office of the FBI."
"It's a pleasure to meet you gentlemen." I said calmly and politely. The FBI of any year had a well-earned reputation for getting upset when their questions weren't answered and I wanted to prevent that from happening as much as possible. "I'd like to answer your questions regarding how I knew this information, but to do so would be a violation of the National Security Act. I know hearing that answer from a twelve-year old is not something that good Agents like you are likely to accept easily. I'm not refusing to answer the question you pose, but until I can be certain you have clearance for this information I cannot give you a full answer. I will state that the methods of acquiring the information on Mr. Hinckley's intentions is highly classified, while the information itself would not be classified. If you can get Mr. Harold Jamison of the Central Intelligence Agency to clear you for Alpha-three level information, I will answer your questions, or if you can get another interrogator with that clearance I will also answer the question at that point."
"Just who the hell do you think you are?" Agent Meyers exclaimed angrily while Agent Ford looked at me intently. I turned to face Agent Meyers directly.
"I am David Ray Jones, Jr., Agent Meyers." I answered him softly. "I live at 564 Pirinen Lane, Unit Number 36. I am a sixth-grade student at El Vista Elementary School. This morning, by phone, I informed the White House of a direct danger to this nation's security and am cooperating with our government's investigators to the fullest extent allowed by the laws of this nation. I am not your ordinary twelve year old, and while it would be far easier for me to answer your question, to do so would violate the laws of this nation."
"How did you know the number to the White House?" Special Agent Ford asked in a neutral tone, cutting off the angry retort that Agent Meyers looked ready to deliver.
"I'm sorry sir, but that information also falls into the same category as the answer to the previous question." I stated as politely as I could
"Who is this Mr. Jamison?" Ford countered, taking a different tact. Meyers fumed quietly and loomed over the table while Ford stayed leaning against the wall. "I don't recognize the name."
"I doubt you would, sir." I answered quickly. "You'll have to call the Langley switchboard to reach him. He works in the Analysis division. When you get him, tell him you have a Blue Knight situation and then tell him what I've told you so far and the basics of the situation. He'll either clear you directly or send someone pretty quickly, I'm sure."
"You're sure of that, are you?" Meyers sneered and I barely kept myself from sighing. Ford moved forward off the wall and put a hand on his partner's shoulder before moving out of the room. Meyers fumed silently while leaning against the two-way mirror and glaring at me. Ford was gone for fifteen minutes before he returned with a huge mobile phone that more closely resembled a World War II portable radio than the small technological marvels I was use to in 2004.
"I have Mr. Jamison on this phone." Ford stated flatly as he entered the room. "Meyers, go make sure the locals aren't observing. Young man, Mr. Jamison would like to speak with you. This is a secure phone."
"Thank you, Special Agent Ford." I said as I rose to my feet and took the heavy phone from him. "This is David Jones."
"I'm Harold Jamison." The voice on the side of the call said breathily. It seemed he was excited, as might be expected. I knew he'd worked in a department of the CIA that was made fun of by the other analysts, and that the office was being shut down in May of this year. For thirty years they'd come up with scenarios for every situation from how to recognize agents sent back through time by the future United States to aliens landing. While none of them had really happened since the office was opened in 1951, their old files had proven useful for this situation. In my first 'do over', the office had been closed for four months by the budget cuts the government went through. Ironically, they'd gone all that time without any of their 'events' happening, and a few months after they'd been shut down, the real thing had happened. Their work was classified beyond 'Top Secret' and never released to the public, mostly to keep the media from making fun of the government spending tax money on something that would never happen. After I'd become known to the government during my first 'do over', they eventually remembered the obscure division and I had gotten a look at their protocols on dealing with a time traveler. Mr. Jamison was the sole employee in this department, and the only living person who'd ever worked there. In a year, he'd die in a traffic accident and only two active CIA managers would know the work had ever existed. Neither of them had heard about the scientist who'd followed me back in time until after he'd already died, and when they heard about me, they'd mentally kicked themselves in the butt for every shutting that department down. All that flashed through my mind as Jamison paused before continuing to speak. "Can you give me the password for Alpha Three?"
"Julian Baker Romeo Three Six Four is the password." I stated clearly and could hear the deep breath he took when it matched the files he was probably looking at right now. When the word had first broken of the situation that was developing in the second 2004, a smart young CIA analyst had scanned most of the relevant files into his computer and sent them via encrypted e-mail to my Intelligence Officer. That man had printed them out and given them to me so that I could read them on the flight, along with a file history of this time period. "You will want to reference scenario one-one-six-three as the closest analog."
"I'm familiar with that one." Jamison said with a disbelieving tone. "It's the one involving time traveling extra-terrestrials."
"Nice verification, Mr. Jamison." I complimented the man. "You know very well it does not involve that. I'd say what it does involve to set your mind at ease, but there are two FBI agents here and while I'm inclined to trust them, you have not told me they are cleared for this yet."
"No, they aren't cleared." Jamison responded quickly. "They told me you are a twelve-year old kid."
"Physically that information is correct." I answered carefully. "Mentally you need to multiply that by five, and this is my second time in this situation."
"So you've gone back in time before?" Jamison asked excitedly and I suppressed a smile.
"Yes, I have." I answered. "Even over a secure line I'm not comfortable discussing such things."
"Okay, okay, I need to talk to some people here and get a plane out there for you." Jamison muttered and I could hear him shuffling papers in the background. "Give the phone back to Agent Ford please."
"Here you go, Special Agent." I said to the older man who was still in the room, watching the conversation with interest. He took the phone I extended to him while he listened to Jamison on the other line. Now it was my turn to listen to one side of a conversation.
"I don't think you understand, Mr. Jamison." Ford said with a hint of anger in his voice and a deep frown. "We can't take a twelve-year old into custody without charges and we definitely can't fly him across the country without his parents approval before hand. You said he isn't to be arrested, and even if he was, we'd have to get a judge to approve the transfer out of state. Why don't you just clear us for whatever is going on here and we'll pass the information along to you? No, that is not acceptable. Fine, if that's how you want to handle it, then you send them here. Okay, but what do we tell the boy's parents when they show up? Yes, I hear you. Fine, Jones, here's the phone."
"Thank you, Special Agent Ford." I said calmly as I took the phone from the agent and put it back to my ear. "This is Jones."
"Any ideas on how to handle your parents?" Jamison's voice was slightly exasperated, and I had to suppress another chuckle. It seemed like this problem was a constant one when you were an adult in a child's body. It took me a moment, but I came with a story that should work.
"Yeah, I have an idea." I said when I had finished thinking it through. "We might have to have one of them, probably my father come on the trip, although if we use what I'm thinking it'll also provide a good reason for him to not be present during any interviews you put me through. Let's run this through and work it up. I tell him that over the holidays I spent a lot of time in the library looking up books on nuclear engineering. I did go to the library a lot, although I didn't look at the books. Basically, I'll tell him while I was there I doodled what I thought a nuclear reactor would look like and how to make it overload, causing a meltdown. Someone found the paper and thought it was something done by a terrorist or something like that and they turned it in to the FBI who investigated. The NEA thought it was far too accurate and the CIA wants to talk to me about how I came up with the ideas. If you want, I can even sketch up something that's pretty accurate."
"I don't think that's necessary." Jamison said with a laugh over the phone. "We can work with that and I'll instruct the agents coming to pick you up to explain it to him along those lines. I'll tell the FBI guys to just tell him that we'll explain what's going on once our people get there. We'll work up the specifics so don't go overboard, just tell him that the FBI asked about a drawing you did in the library and act a little scared."
"Got it." I said quickly and then handed the phone over to Special Agent Ford. The man grunted a few times and then gave his acquiescence. He shut off the phone and put it on the table before looking at me with a very intense gleam in his eye.
"What are you, some kind of sleeper agent?" Ford inquired and I smiled.
"I wish." I admitted with a shrug. "Things would be easier."
"I'm going to have to explain why the CIA is taking over the investigation into an assassination attempt on the President." Ford complained.
"That's simple enough to handle." I said with a shrug. "Tell the locals nothing about what this was about. Just tell them you're under orders not to say anything."
"Just who the hell are you?" Ford grumbled before waving at me to ignore his question. Meyers returned to the room at that point and frowned at me.
"The boy's father is here." Meyers said grumpily. "What do we do with him? He's raising a fuss in the lobby."
"Bring him here, please." I answered for Ford who just nodded his agreement. Meyers looked displeased but left quickly. I looked over at Ford. "I'll need to speak to him alone, and unobserved, please."
"I figured you might say something like that." Ford answered carefully. "You seem use to issuing orders around here."
"Sometimes things are not always what they seem, Special Agent." I answered him cryptically, hoping he'd accept that. He seemed to as he stared at me for a moment and then left the room. I went to the far side of the room and stared at the wall until the door opened behind me and a very angry-looking Dad came into the room.
"Davey!" His voice was edgy and full of concern as well as anger. "What's going on here? Are you okay? Have they hurt you or anything?"
"I'm fine, Dad." I answered him, reflecting on the fact that he at least did seem concerned for my well-being. That was the naturally angry side of me reacting to our lifetime of disagreements though. "I made a stupid mistake though. Over the break I was studying nuclear reactors at the library and I drew a diagram of a reactor. I kind of tinkered around with it and figured out how to create a reactor meltdown. When I left the library, I left the diagram there and someone found it and turned it in to the FBI. I'm sorry Dad, it was stupid to do, and now they want me to go answer some questions."
"What the hell do you think you were doing?" Dad raged and his face turned red. For a moment he looked panicked and then he started at me with his hands balled up into fists. I almost thought he was going to hit me, but instead of flinching as I might have at this age, I stared him down coolly. Finally, he relaxed his hands and took a deep breath before speaking. "Are they arresting you?"
"No, they believe that I wasn't really considering it, but they want me to talk to some people at the Atomic Energy Commission about my drawing. I think it's because I got it right on the diagram." I answered him, giving him a small smile as I spoke. His anger slipped out of his stance and he looked slightly amused.
"I always did think you were smart." Dad said with a sigh. "Sometimes you're too smart for your own good, son."
"You're right there, Dad." I said with a sigh of relief. "The agents said they were sending someone to take us to the airport, if you think you can go. I know I have to go but, I think it's optional for you or mom to go. I know she can't take the time off work right now, but maybe you can."
"I'll have to talk it over with her." Dad said, taking the bait I laid out for him. With any luck he'd decide I deserved whatever I got and let me go alone.
"I'm really sorry Dad, I know you have things you'd rather be doing." I said slowly, looking down at the floor in mock humility.
"It's okay son, I was just very worried for you." Dad said. "I don't know if you heard it or not but someone tried to kill the President today and then I get a call from your Principal that two FBI agents came and picked you up from school."
"I'm sorry about that, Dad." I said carefully, modulating my voice so that it shook a little. He just waved off my comment.
"Stop apologizing, son." Dad told me sternly. "To be honest, I'm kind of proud of you. I never thought you'd be able to design a nuclear reactor."
"I didn't really design one, Dad." I said softly. "I just took what I found in books and went from there. It's pretty easy, really."
"Well, let me see if I can get a phone and call your mom." Dad said as he moved to open the door. Agent Ford talked to him quietly for a moment before leading him off after closing the door. I just let out a sigh of relief and sat back down in the metal chair. Manipulating Dad was so much easier than having a fight with him.
Now I just had to decide what to do about everything else and what direction I wanted to take in this new life, as well as what to do about Brian.
As with all my stories, E provides immeasurable input, grammar checking, and all those other lovely editing thingies that make the story so much better!
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