Reconnoiter || Guns N Roses, David Bowie, Bon Jovi

Reconnoiter: One

-1988-

Sit like a lady. Stand up straight. Don't play with your hair, Callie.

Eat salad with your salad fork, eat soufflé with your dessert fork.

The music was surely gorgeous and extravagant; I was staring straight at the thin little pianist, skillfully playing her cadences, but I didn't hear a thing. I was surely done up like the pretty little doll I was for the occasion, set on display for all guests to see and talk with. I was staring straight at their pretty-painted lips moving, but I registered no sound.

And it wasn't like they were strangers, Cap would never allow anyone I didn't know to come within a ten-foot radius of me. They were all people I'd seen before, somehow, and I always knew I wasn't one of them. I was desperate to be, the way a drowning sailor yearns for land.

Don't skulk, it's unbecoming of a lady, Callie. Smile, your teeth are gorgeous, darling.

Media is nothing but a bad influence. Stay away from men, Callie.

They were all smart people, the smartest the world had to offer. They weren't dangerous or frightening to me, I told Cap. He responded that their work was, and that the CIA was no place for a young lady. I wanted to tell him where to shove that shit, but Cap says it's foul for a lady to use profanity.

Maybe I didn't realize it, but before my seventeenth birthday, my life was extremely limited. I was always to stay in the apartment building, whether I was on Cap's floor, or my own. Television for forty-five minutes a day, if I could get the old piece of crap to pick up a station. No interaction with anyone but Cap, or perhaps a maid. Tutoring five hours a day, except for weekends. Bed by ten o'clock.

The only privilege that wasn't limited? The two thousand dollar computer system in my bedroom.

Don't open any windows, Callie. You must stay hidden.

Don't go near the telephone, dear. You never know who's listening.

It was all I wanted to do most days. I was a skilled hacker, I had nothing else to do but learn to wiggle my way into every blocked database, sneak through the most secure of firewalls... hack into CIA files. That skill would come in handy, down the line.

I never asked Cap for anything, because I didn't need to. He gave me everything I could possibly desire in his mind, as long as it could be stored on my floor. Cap was a rich man, a handsome one, with plenty of assets. I had a lady's clothing, dresses and skirts, makeup and hairbrushes, scented lotions and perfumes. I had more than any child ever should.

The only thing I ever opened my mouth to ask for was a position by his side- at CIA headquarters, of course. He really was The Captain, and while the CIA's forces had been substantially diminished by the 1978 attack on the White House, Cap lead the strongest resistance against the Rebel Underground.

The people who had my Jess.

So at my seventeenth birthday party I couldn't hear the pretty piano music, and I couldn't hear the undercover agents spewing about trivial things. I could only see the outlines of their badges under their clothing, see their identification cards hidden among their purses, I could only see the life I wanted slipping away.

And I could hear Cap's voice in the back of my head. Listen to what I say, Callie. I only want what's best for you.

Cap didn't give me everything I wanted, truly. I wanted to wear jeans and t-shirts, I wanted to have messy hair, I wanted to eat cheap pizza with friends-if he'd allow me to have some. I wanted to spend all night watching television, I wanted to go to school. I wanted to be an agent, in the field, interacting with the RUG, I wanted Jess back.