<i>Author's note: The following story should not exist. It is the result of a drunken dare (literally), and a mind with way too much time on its hands. If you detest it, keep in mind that the author probably shares your opinion. If you actually like it or are curious, keep in mind that the author may tire of this dare and cease writing at any time. If you have no idea what's going on, than you are supremely lucky. The author envys you, and would like to possibly trade places. </i>
Prologue:
        As her limo sped through the car lanes past armies of biking Chinese workers, Lynn Kresge meditated on how much she loved Beijing. She loved it because it was everything Washington wasnt. People walked through the streets with their heads down. In Washington, everyone was always watching each other, looking for some opportunity.
In Beijing, you very rarely had to make small talk when you met people you know. They either didnt have time, or you could easily pretend that you just didnt speak Chinese (even though Lynn knew the language fluently).
       
Most importantly, in Beijing you never had to worry that the Chief of Staff was plotting against the President of the United States. No concern existed that he might lock you in a storeroom, and then have a member of the secret service push you down a flight of stairs, so you spend the next two years in rehab learning how to walk again. That was the part of Beijing Lynn liked the best.
       
It had been three years since then, two years since she settled with the former chief of staff Mick Novick out of court for enough money to let her live comfortably. The problem was that there was no way to get back into Washington after that. David Palmer was long gone from the presidency, and the Republicans had little interest in her skills given her political affiliation and her now widely publicized history of sueing her superiors.
Naturally, in private anyone in Washington would admit that if they were paralyzed by the chief of staff, accidentally or not, theyd sue too. But among those who work in the government, lawsuits are a scary thing, and anyone who ever sued the government is persona non grata, especially if they belong to the opposite political party.
Lynn couldve just taken her settlement, bought a condo in Miami Beach, and given the rest of her money to a Wall Street investment firm to ensure that she remained independently wealthy for the rest of her life. She was tempted to do just that a few times in that first year out of the coma. Until she realized that unless she had something to work on, shed go absolutely crazy.
So here she was in Beijing, working as the personal representative for Dynosoft, the worlds largest software company. It was a hard job. She had to deal with frustrating beurocrats, self-important military officers, and politicians who were communist true-believers. She had to convince them that technology could work in China, and that they were better off letting information flow freely than suppressing it.
When she was feeling particularly egotistical, she saw herself as the strongest force for freedom in the country. Then she realized how bombastic she was being and laughed at herself. Thank God she had a job where she could feel self-important, or she would go insane.
The limo pulled up in front of her house. This area was sometimes called Americatown, because of its close proximity to the U.S. Embassy, and because of the presence of small duplexes were the families of American diplomats and businessmen lived. These small two-three story brownstones clashed in comparison to the mostly grey gigantic apartments that seemed to cover Beijing like a concrete shawl.
Thanking her driver with a few words in Chinese, she proceeded up the steps, unlocked the door and entered the house.
As she locked the door behind her, she turned and came nose-to-nose with an upside down stranger silhouetted against the darkness of her townhouse.
Instinctively, she pushed herself back against the door, and was about to scream, when she realized the stranger was no longer in front of her. She hadnt seen him move, but now she realized that that was not the door she was backed into as a hand came around and covered her mouth, stifling the noise from her throat.
Shhh.. she heard from behind her. The stranger uttered some soft words which Lynn recognized as Japanese. She didnt speak the language, but that wasnt what surprised her. The voice was young, and couldnt be more than sixteen years old. She felt herself being pushed forward, while at the same time released from her captors grip. She stumbled forward a few minutes than stopped, wondering why the young stranger had let her go.
Not taking the time to fully consider this conundrum, she ran into the kitchen, where she kept a loaded lady derringer just in case of such a situation. She had bought the gun after the whole Mike Novick situation, but she couldnt carry it around with her because it would make the Chinese nervous.
She ran into the kitchen, flicking the lights on quickly and tugged out the drawer where the gun was kept.
The gun was gone, and in its place was a series of photographs. They had obviously been in a stack, but had been scattered by Lynns opening the drawer. Two of the photos were of Asian looking children, one a boy with very large eyebrows, and the other a girl with her hair tied up in opposing buns. There was a third one, an Asian man who looked like an older version of the boy. There was also a bald black man who looked like he had just been beaten rather savagely, as his right eye was swelling. All appeared to be wearing some sort of grey prisoners uniform and holding up a series of numbers for the camera.
But it wasnt those pictures that caused Lynns shock and kept her from wondering what exactly happened to her gun. It was the fifth picture, one of an American man with shortly cropped hair who was glaring at the camera severely.
She knew this man.
Jack Bauer? Lynn said aloud.
She heard a brief noise behind her and whirled around to briefly see a long-haired Japanese boy. He had heavy scarring on his forehead, but more disturbingly, the veins flowing through the skin around his eyes were extremely pronounced and throbbing against the surface of his skin.
He was wearing the same grey uniform as the people in the picture, and his mouth was implacably neutral.
Who Lynn began to ask, but in a flash of eye, the boy was gone once again. are you? concluded Lynn, as he left her with more questions than answers.
