That Girl

"Making friends?"

Finley glanced over at her father, not missing how they both shared the same stoic look. She shrugged casually. "Not really. The kid hasn't left me alone since first period."

Robert looked over at his daughter. He would be a fool to not realize how well he had prepared his daughter for the world. But he would be an even bigger fool to rest solely on her skills. Fathers always need to protect their daughters, and he knew that. "Anything you want me to take care of?"

Finley smiled softly. "I think I can handle this kid on my own, daddy. But thank you for offering."

"How did your first day go?"

"Have you talked to Marshall Walker yet?" Finley asked, evading her fathers question for two reasons; one, he didn't really care about her first day of school (and neither did she) and two, there were more important matters to discuss.

Robert sighed. "No news is good news, right?"

"Not in Witness Protection," she muttered.

"Aria--"

"I go by Finley here, okay? For…just a little bit of normalcy."

"Fin, are you sure it's a good idea to use your real name?"

"Fake last name, dad, we've been over this. Besides, you still use your real name," she pointed out.

"Because Robert is common--"

"I'm not changing it," she snapped.

Robert nodded. "Okay, Finley, I know this is difficult at a new school--"

"New schools are relatively easy. Until I get shot in homeroom again," she muttered bitterly.

"That wasn't--He wasn't supposed to get that close," Robert assured her.

Finley sighed. "I know. And it's not about that. It's about finding whoever is targeting us so we can move on."

"I know I've asked too much of you, sweetheart--"

"It's what family does," Finley interrupted quietly.

She was not in the mood to go down the road that conversation led to.

Not at all.

+

When Finley and her father arrived at their modest one story house that didn't stick out in any way, she resigned herself to her room. She still had a few boxes littered against the wall, but she wasn't in the mood to unpack.

She pulled her iPod out of her messenger bag and put in her headphones, turning up her music. She laid down on her bed, pulling a pillow over her head. Even with so many things running through her mind, she was still able to get lost in the music. It was the only thing that she found comforting.

It all started when her mother died.

She had been 12, still relatively young but old enough to know the truth. Her father had told her that it was a car accident, but Finley knew better. She had been targeted because she had been an FBI agent. It wasn't like it was in the TV shows, at least, not for the most part. Her mother had simply had a desk job, until a colleague out on maternity leave had thrusted her into the field. Finley didn't know the specifics of the case but she knew enough to know that the killer had targeted her mother because she knew too much.

But her mother wasn't the only one.

The FBI had a strict code of secrecy. Agents were not supposed to talk about cases, but her mother had. She had shared too much information with her father. Robert was a special man in his own rights--a retired Navy SEAL who gave up his career for his family, he settled for owning a karate studio. And when his wife was killed, he wanted to take matters into his own hands.

But the FBI knew that was a possibillity, so he and Finley were entered into Witness Protection out of fear that the killer would go after them. It had been five years and Finley had gone to four different schools. After the incident in Texas which resulted in Finley getting shot in the chest, the FBI took more extreme measures, choosing to move them to the east coast and give them new identities entirely.

Robert still didn't know how they had found them. And he really didn't know how the man who killed his wife was able to sneak into a high school and shoot his daughter. But he refused to have it happen again. After she had healed, he immediately threw her into more self-defense and karate classes than she had time for. His argument was that her safety was more important than her education.

And Finley would agree, no natter how much she actually loved school.

She had changed since Texas, though. She had let her guard down because she had been comfortable there. That wouldn't happen again.

+

Alex decided not to bring up Finley as Jack drove him home. Or course, his best friend always had other ideas.

"So, how did it feel getting punched by a girl?" Jack asked, sending his best friend a look in the rearview mirror.

Alex rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up."

"I mean, at least you recovered well," Luka told him.

"You guys are having way too much fun with this," Alex told them.

"Well, yeah," Jack said, "it's rare for you to be embarrassed in from of people."

"I hope it stays rare."

"It won't. I can promise you that everyone will be talking about it tomorrow," Luka assured him.

Alex groaned. "Maybe if I'm nonchalant, no one will care."

"Yeah, you're not an actor, Alex, you're a singer," Jack told him.

He sighed. "Until you keep annoying me and then I'm going to leave the band."

"No, you won't. It gets you more girls. You're not gonna give that up until you're dead," Luka told him.

Alex didn't reply, mainly because he knew that she was right. He kept silent for the rest of the ten minute ride home. He muttered a soft "later" as he exited the car, but he really wasn't paying attention.

The only thing on his mind was Finley.