1See part one for disclaimer

A.N. I am taking free reigns in this part with both Janet and Faith's histories. I looked around but could find no real info on what their pasts were like, so I am going to use things that were hinting at or mentioned briefly. Hope you all enjoy

Snapshots of Life


Surrounded by both friends and family, 21-year-old Janet Lehane watched as the small white casket was lowered into the ground, flowers draped over and around the grave in colors of white, red, and violet. She had thought she was all cried out over her daughters death, knowing in her heart that if Michael could not have survived the crash into the icy choked waters of the lake, Jennifer had no hope. But life proved her wrong as tears ran unchecked down her face.

The small apartment was all she could afford to rent with the money the woman sent her to take care of the screaming brat she was now saddled with. A moment of carelessness had landed her in this mess, and to stay out of jail, she had agreed to pass the girl, the woman said her name was Faith, off as her own. She had moved to Boston, getting away from the life she had been living in Chicago as a lowly street walker, living in fear of the johns and her pimp. One night her pimp had tried to beat her and she fought back, killing him, but she had been seen. Now she was being blackmailed into something else.


The envelope trembled as Janet turned it over in her hands, her entire future hinging on what was inside. Four years of heartache and worry packaged up in one small letter. Would she be graduating from medical school, or just have wasted the last few years? She had filled the void in her soul, buried it under anatomy books and chemistry. Taking a deep breath, she ripped the edge, pulling out the papers folded inside.

The officer looked around at the squalid apartment, seeing dirty dishes and clothes scattered on and around the sagging furniture, all of it splattered with blood and other body fluids. In one corner he saw a large box and could hear muffled sobs coming from inside. Moving slowly, stepping over the bloated body of the dead prostitute, his gun held in a trembling hand, he reached out and pulled the limp cardboard back, reveling a small, dirty, dark-haired girl.


She pulled the door closed behind her, hearing the lock click, signaling the end of another chapter in her life. Three years of long hours and hard work that she had loved, the fast pace set in the emergency rooms and surgeries left her feeling like she had accomplished something and not just gone through the motions of life. Two years wasted on a marriage that ended in a drunken rage and the call to the nearest lawyer she could find. Now there was only one more stop to make before she moved into the next chapter.

Running down the alley, she ducked around a corner trying to escape the boys chasing her, only to trip over a wino laying against the wall, his legs sticking out. The scrapes she received were nothing compared to what she knew was coming as she felt two pairs of hand's grabbed her, hauling her back to her feet. The oldest boy was ten, and he was looking for some payback for the prank she had pulled on him, landing him in the principal's office. The last thing she remembered was her foster brothers' fist as it struck her, knocking her head back against the brick of the building. Her last thought, she would be moving again soon.


The grey walls seemed to match her mood as she sat in her office. The Air Force had, in its infinite wisdom, seen fit to place Cassandra with a family that was not equipt to deal with the young orphan. She had tried not to get attached, but the part of her heart she had closed with Jennifer's casket had been broken wide open and the youngster had barreled right in, filling a void she had not even known was there. With a determined look, she picked up the phone, calling in all the favors she could.

Juvenile Hall. Not as bad as some of the homes she had suffered though, but not the place she wanted to be either. A careless moment while watching her semi boyfriend as he tried to boost the old mans car had gotten her a one way trip, do not pass go, do not get $200. With a sigh, she laid back on the thin mattress, staring at the cracked grey ceiling above her, wondering what would happen next. A while later she heard someone calling her name, looking up to see her social worker, court appointed, calling her. Beside the short woman was another, more elegantly dressed yet with an air of competence. With nothing better to do, Faith dropped to the floor and unknowingly dropped into the best thing she had ever gotten.