Disclaimer: I am neither Agnes Nixon nor her Muse, great being that it clearly is. Hence I do not own any of these characters or places or flashbacks. However, I own the characters Micaela Kincaide and her father, Amy Cohen, Maxine Malone, Harley Jacobs and all related places like the Kincaide ranch and Amy's childhood home and her uncle.

Summary: 'Out of his greatest tragedy, a love story begins…' A single lie will forever impact that world in Pine Valley as the Chandler family searches for its roots and JR Chandler fights to deal. After finding the one thing he needs most, he will find himself something he never knew was waiting for him. Couples include JR/OC, Zach/Kendall, Tad/Dixie, Adam/Brooke; hints of Stuart/Marian, David/Greenlee, Bianca/Maggie; eventually Ryan/Kendall friendship.

A Love Story:

1)

On January 5, 2005, a memorial was held for Adam Chandler III. The child's father, JR Chandler, did not attend. He had, at the time, no way of knowing that the child he was mourning for was, in fact, on the run with ex-wife Babe Carey and one-time step-brother Jamie Martin.

About a year from then, the child would bring his father back from a devastating state of mind, reunite a family torn apart in the savageness of time.

A year after that would see Babe Carey scheming to get JR and her son back by any means necessary and Jamie Martin searching for some way to find his own redemption.

But that is another story.

The story today covers one year and four months of JR Chandler's life.

It is a story of the intricacies of Fate and the true deviousness of the Irony Gods. Yet, is "devious" really a bad thing when the eventual ending (if you can call it that and if we ever get there) is so bright and happy?

Is all the hurt and chaos and pain worth how well this story will eventually end?

JR likes to think so.

This story begins, like many long and exhausting stories begin, with a woman.

Or, to be specific, a bi-racial woman who, despite her best tries cannot stand higher than 5'3. A woman who carries a paperback copy of some Stephan King book everywhere she goes. A woman who, at age 21, started a foundation to help those who cannot help themselves.

A woman who cannot, and will never be able to, drive. This is not to say she does not try. This is to say that the car, in some demented vendetta against her, refuses to obey. When she instructs it to forward, it will go back. When she turns left, the car will turn right.

Somehow, in her 25 years, she has not killed, or injured, a single man or beast.

Sadly, a large assortment of parked cars, telephone poles, fire hydrants, walls, mailboxes, bikes, mountains of manure and/or dirt, bulldozers and a church would not agree with this statement.

It is not known how these objects and places were able to disagree.

This woman, Micaela Kincaide, is about to become a victim of both Fate and the all-powerful Irony Gods. She will start a chain of motions that will lead to the destruction, recovery, re-destruction and eventual full recovery of several beloved families of Pine Valley.

She, like JR, thinks that the eventual full recovery of aforementioned families was completely worth all the Hell that took over Pine Valley for nearly five years.

And, yes, it all began with her latest attempt at driving on January 6, 2005.


JR Chandler witnessed the complete and total destruction of his brand-new Mercedes-Benz from the step of the FUSION building, where he had gone to have lunch with Kendall.

One minute his new baby was waiting for him, shining and bright and happy to see him.

The next a blur of blue metal and clear glass hit his perfectly parked car with enough force to slam the Mercedes up the curb and into a telephone pole.

His baby never had a chance.

Seeing the small figure climb from the murder weapon, a 2004 blue Porsche, he stared, horrified.

A teenager! A teenager trying to play CEO in a skirt suit, her black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She bounced up and down, arms flying, and he could hear screeching very faintly across the parking lot.

She was going to jail.

JR made the decision in a fraction of a heartbeat before he exploded into a blur of movement, hoping he looked every bit as deadly as her now-totaled murder weapon.

The shrieking woman, who seemed to be getting smaller the closer he got, saw the pissed-off young male about three cars away.

Her reaction was instantaneous. If she had run over, apologized profusely and paid him back, he probably would have never thought twice. If she had jumped into her car and somehow managed to flee the scene of the homicide, he would have tracked her ass down and put her away.

She did neither and in that single act, as he would later come to realize, she had completely and utterly captured his heart. In that single moment she owned him, Chandler and Cooney sides both, something never done before.

For the first time in his long and tiring existence, Cooney and Chandler agreed: "This was his woman."

However, this understanding would not come until months later, when his defenses were lowered by a fever and a strangely horrifying nightmare.

On that morning, JR was simply pissed.

The little teenager froze, eyes growing wide, arms stilling in mid-fling, suspended, for a heartbeat on one foot, in mid-bounce. And then, she screamed.

And he lunged at her.

And she darted away, screeching again, as she ran around her car to avoid him.

And he realized that she was no teenager. Oh, she was young, probably not older than 23. But she was no teenager, which was proven by more than the generous curves.

As she bounced on the other side of the wreck, babbling about insurance and God knows what, he realized why she looked so little.

She was little. Even in the two-inch heels, she was an itty-bitty thing.

Glaring at her over the remains of her car, he studied her more intently.

Small, curvy, skin the color of cappuccino. Skirt suit and heels, both black.

"Look, Miss CEO, gimme your name."

She just shook her head, long ponytail whipping. "It was an accident."

The Chandler half unsheathed his claws; his blue eyes seeming to darken as his face tightened. "Accident?"

A smile curved her lips and the change was startling, though no one would have able to pick up any hint of surprise in his eyes. He put the quick swing of emotion in a box marked "Miss CEO" and carefully set it aside, to use it later, before he again focused on her.

The panic hopping, flinging and screeching changed gracefully to a calm coolness. She stood straighter, with one hip cocked slightly to the side, the smile curving her lips with a surprising grace. Even her eyes changed, the brown depths calming and he thought, with not just a bit of irritation, that the shift resembled nothing so much as cooling chocolate.

The sudden burst of metaphor didn't please him, only caused his anger to flare further. Struggling to remain calm, had enough bad blood pressure from Dad, he leaned forward and set his hands flat on the hood of the Porsche. "My car was parked, Ms…?"

"Kincaide."

Growing up with chronic liars, both Martin and Chandler, he felt his instincts flex in warning. The name was vaguely familiar, but he was too irritated to think about it now. Instead, he watched her carefully.

Still, her voice wasn't horrible to hear, soft, elegant, but not overly rich, something that always made him scowl.

"Ms. Kincaide, my car, my brand-new car, was parked. Had been parked for the last hour and a half."

No answer and he clenched his hands across the hood. And then he saw the bag.

So did she.

She lunged, flinging open the door of the other side, but the door on his side was still open from when she had come flying out. Before she had even reached the right side he had scooped up the black beaded bag.

And slammed the door in her face, getting a screech of "son of a bitch!" from Miss CEO.

Ripping open the zipper, he dug around, cringing slightly at the tampon. Pen, cell phone…

"Give me my bag!"

… some kind of book, small silk bag of what must be make-up…

"Hey!" He spun when she launched herself at him, turning his back on her Screeching Highness.

… wallet!

And Miss CEO jumped onto his back with yet another screech, small fists pounding his shoulders.

With a grunt he flung her off, dropped the bag and tore open the wallet, thumbing through credit cards and pictures, searching for the… driver's license!

Smirking, he glanced down at her, sprawled on the asphalt, legs flung out, strands of hair loose and stuck to her face. "Well, Micaela Kincaide, you are going to go to jail. For killing my new car!"

Which was when, of course, the Martins showed up.


Okay, the guy who picked her up wasn't bad. She shoved him away, stalking shakily back to Mr. Purse-Stealer. He seemed to be calling the police, looking extremely angry.

"Hey, buddy, just tell me the name and I'll just pay you back!" Yeah, let's be nice to the Loony-tune.

He just gave her an extremely rude gesture and she couldn't fight her annoyed "Ugh!"

Pa was going to kill her. Especially if he had to fly in to Pennsylvania just to pay her bail. Micaela doubted Amy would be able to. Amy, wild child that she was, would probably just decide to break her out by use of helicopter.

God, the image was so clear. Even down to the 'Mission: Impossible' theme in the background.

"Come on, who hasn't hit a parked car!"

No answer as he addressed some guy called Derek. Maybe she should jump back onto him, get his attention.

What if you break your ass again, Micaela?

Okay, not a good idea. Her ass, her favorite body part, was already sore, probably already bruised.

Micaela, deep in thought and patting said ass painfully, nearly had a stroke when a cell phone was shoved into her face, followed by a male hand. A rather attractive male hand, her libido added thoughtfully.

"You are going to jail! And you are going to pay me back!"

"No, not jail! My Pa will kill me! Come on, I'll write you a check!" Oh God, she was going to jail.

"Come on, JR. Give the girl a break!"

"Yes, listen to Mr. Blue Eyes here… JR? Geez, why don't you just wear an 'I love Dallas' shirt?"

When his only answer was to get even angrier, she gave a single squeak and darted back to the older couple by Mr. Blue Eyes. Shoving her things back into her bag, she watched him as he advanced forward, seeming to grow bigger with each step.

"Tad is not involved in this!" A furious gesture toward Blue Eyes. "You hit my parked car, you totaled it! You are going to spend, if I have my way, your life in prison!" This so stated, he flung the license in her direction, getting yet another squeak from Micaela.

For long moments, they simply glared and all three of the strangers, "Tad" included, seemed to catch that any word would be dangerous.

Just don't run girl, dogs can smell fear.

Micaela wholeheartedly agreed with her brain, never broke his eye contact.

Until she saw the police car entering the parking lot.

"For God's sake JR, it was an accident! Just let her pay you back!"

Micaela leaped up to stand beside the speaker, Tad, and gestured at the wreck. "You have no idea how incredibly sorry I am, really! Just let me write you a check."

The police car turned, coming closer, and she uttered another squeak, clearly imagining the conversation with her father. "Please!"

Her clothes were ruined, her hair stuck to her face and her three tampons were scattered across the parking lot; she was truly a pathetic sight, begging someone not to get her arrested. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

JR watched her, face emotionless as the police car pulled up, parking at the curb. The black man who got out stared at the wreck in open-mouthed amazement for a moment before heading over, shaking his head in disgust.

He greeted the older couple as Joe and Ruth, nodding to Tad before turning his attention to JR.

"What is this, Chandler?"

"No!"

All attention shifted to the small woman who had let out the cry. Running up to the officer, she grabbed his arm. "Chandler? Please, oh please, tell me I didn't just total a Chandler car!"

The officer gave her a look of deep pity, nodding his head at first the wreck, then the young man. "You did Ms… "

"Kincaide," she supplied, dark eyes latched onto the now-smiling Chandler. Too smart. Way too smart.

"Ms. Kincaide, could you please explain what happened to Mr. Chandler's car?"

She stared at Chandler. If he wasn't jumping in with his story, than he knew he had the case. Which, yeah, he did. Micaela shifted her gaze to the officer. "Well, Mr.…"

"Frye."

"Mr. Frye, this accident was entirely my fault. See, I just happened to hit Mr. Chandler's car. However, I will be paying him back… with interest!"

Frye nodded, sighed and turned back to Chandler, "Accidents happen Mr. Chandler, just let her – "

"My car was parked, Derek."

And just like that, Micaela Kincaide found herself behind the bars in Pine Valley jail, contemplating how to break the news to her father and who exactly she should call in a new town.


And so it started, soon spiraling out of control, turning Pine Valley upside down.

Unfortunately, Pine Valley wouldn't be the only place to hit the fan before it was over.

A familiar town called Llanview would soon follow suit and a family grieving for decades would discover painful truths long hidden and family members long lost.

You are now entering the little town called Pine Valley. Buckle your seatbelts and hang on tight.