A/N: Not Completely Edited.

Chapter 1 - It's the Truth, but I Like the Lie (Walsh Pomme POV)

"That's all-" the Director ended the debrief, standing, "See you in a week, Walsh," the Director says, distracted as he piles his documents together, I myself doing the same. Holidays were rare. It could easily be taken away by the time I wrap up and am walking to the elevator.

Writing my report of the latest case trip and once completed and I'm at my desk I flip through my messages, merging my calendars, and glancing specifically at the handwritten note I wrote nearly two months ago. I look at the note I made myself longer than normal. It's an odd feeling that comes over me, different.

Check Out Coordinates.

Week after week since May, since the last time I heard from my friend, I moved the reminder, not having the time space to go to wherever Dmitri was leading me. 

Before, my schedules free, I'd jump, do much more when Dmitri calls me.

Now however, I had responsibilities, yet, it was the tone in my friends' voice, the tightness. Still he's done this before. Head in my hands, the relentless unease grows now that I have the week coming free – especially since Dmitri hadn't called me back. Emailed. Sent a text – anything. Packed quickly, I throw my filled documents on the filing desk and head out, stopping at our tech analysts two floors below.

"Wally," Fred greets when I enter his domain, "Coming to check on that thing you had me look into?" I nod silently turning to the television screen that he normally threw his screen onto. Arms crossed against my chest, I wait, though my heart pounds – that gut feeling I've always trusted, it's not feeling too great right now. "Okay – so what I found..." Fred clicks away, "Okay so without going too far, Walsh, as far as I can see, there is nothing but forest land there-"

"Not even a home? Hidden? Nothing? Just land?" I cut him off. Why the hell would he – I stop the thought completely, dread and what I didn't want to face was now smacking me in the face. I give Fred a clipped thank you, and stride right out of his room, heading right to the elevator, it's not until I've gotten into my car and I'm on my way home  to Patricia that I undo my tie.

Damnit.

Damnit.

I shake my head when the traffic light turns red, beating my palm against the steering wheel, but as I flex my hand, and the light turns green, I do not accept what I've not really seen with my own eyes. Something that Dmitri had always pushed me to see.

He always showed up for me – Dmitri would travel half way around the world if I called him and the guilt of being a terrible friend, settles. We'd sleep – Patricia and I – before leaving to where Dmitri was sending me. I worked for the government and the things I had witnessed Dmitri doing, there were lines he crossed that sometimes I could not. Even craving a nights sleep in my own bed with my woman didn't sit right with me at the moment – though the both of us hadn't seen in nearly two or three weeks, much less setting foot in our home.

Twenty minutes later, I arrive home, heading inside, but I only make it to the foyer before I see Patricia just sitting on the stairs leading to the second floor of our townhouse – her face positively mournful. Patricia was the only one I trusted with my involvement with Dmitri, that he also did not have a problem with being around as far as I knew.

"He left a message here as well... I don't think..." she shakes her head as I easily read her face, "he called the cell but – babe he called here after, he didn't, I'm sorry," no sooner do the words fall from her lips, do I feel her arms wrapped around me in a comforting embrace, my mind trying to catch up to the horrible gut feeling I had at the office. We say nothing for a while but silently, I stumble – I never thought Dmitri would ever die. It's been years since I just accepted that he would forever be around.

And now? He's just- I stop myself again.

"Do – do you – would you mind terribly if we went straight away?" I ask Patty, resting my cheek against the top of her head, as she sways us.

"Of course not! Dmitri is..." she doesn't finish her mumbled response stumbling first, "that's your friend."

Never knowing what to expect when it came to Dmitri, especially when we landed and I had informed Patty of what Fred was able to get satellite images of, we went prepared, though in all honesty, I knew that somehow Dmitri had hidden what he wanted me to find. It wasn't the first time that something was physically shown to me, but the evidence on the other hand clearly stated it did not exist. Patty and I handled everything we could, and decide to leave the place with the coordination given last.

What was Dmitri hiding in the Appalachian Mountains?

I had laughed just nearly manically on the airplane, receiving more than my fair share of arched brows and glares, but the question I should have been asking was this was only one location. How many different things was Dmitri hiding in various areas of the Appalachian Mountains? Hell any mountain for that matter.

Not bothering with getting directions from town, we manage, finding what was not shown in the images Fred procured for me. Shaking my head I throw the car in park, Patty and I scouting our location, before deciding to get out at the gate, the two of us immediately looking for signs of we don't know what, but still, we process. "There are things that no matter how or what you study Walsh, you'll never catch," he told me once cryptically; he hadn't truly trusted me then.

His own words.

"Everyone wants you to tell them the truth, I can handle it they say, but the minute they get it and it's not want the want to hear, somehow it's your fault for putting it out there." The gate area cleared, Patty and I enter, slowly and cautious. We find nothing amiss, yet we do realize that this is never a place that Dmitri has mentioned to either of us. Following his instructions, we head to his office, unlocking and further investigation as we go.

It was an ominous message left on my cell phone. Though he gave more details on the home answering machine, nothing prepared me for what I found in the journals he told me to find. What the hell was going on with Dmitri? I asked myself a million times while we invaded this home, the desperation in his voice, I was expecting... hell I do not know what, but not this.

There is a girl... and if you're reading this, Walsh, you need to protect her at all costs... he was never one to have fake pleasantries, I think frowning, my face morphing into horror the further I read.

Her name is Fatima Safiya Ashlynn and she believes that the air is poisonous – Patricia gasps, her hand covering her mouth as she herself read along to the letter that when we finally reach the end we find out was written three months prior.

"He's – oh God-" Patricia shakes her head from side to side, "it's – is she even – oh God – that poor – Walsh you have too," the cool, calm and collected woman I knew seemed to go right out the window right along with all of her verbal skills. Not that I blamed her. Still, I glance at the journal I'm holding, my hands shaking – if Dmitri wrote this... Dmitri didn't do pranks. If he wrote this... it was all the truth, I thought horrified.

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(Fatima Safiya Ashlynn POV)

Aghast, I sit at the table with this new man, says his name is Walsh Pomme... "I'm sorry it took me so long to come find you," his voice hoarse and brings me back to here. To Dmitri and mine safe haven. Only, there's no reason for a safe haven Walsh tells me.

"Dmitri is gone?" I repeat the words like a prayer, they didn't make sense to me, but inside I feel relieved, he Dmitri didn't forget me, "did a Loyalist get him?" I ask because Dmitri had told me plenty of these Loyalist types were hurting the Independents, trying to get them to conform to the Regime. I wait expectantly, as the man, this new man Walsh stares me down blankly. With a quick headshake, after a few moments later, he opens his mouth, "There are no Loyalists, Fati - Faith. I know you don't understand sweetheart, but Dmitri... this war you speak of – none of this is true Faith," I shake my head, I mean that couldn't - what he was saying couldn't be true. Of course there was a war.

"Dmitri would not lie to me, we loved each other, he saved me, after my parents were killed by Loyalists, he saved me," I nod as my vision blurs, and I jab my finger into my chest.

The man – Walsh, the second person I've ever met – pulls out a small device, he places it on the table and a red light switches on when he taps on one of the black buttons.

"Walsh," the voice played back is my Dmitri, weak though, his voice shaking, I wipe at my tears, see? He had been hurt, he did not sound I want to shout but I listen with great attention, "go to my home – home," a garbled noise, a whimper, followed by numbers, heavy breathing continues for a minute, before suddenly, the heavy panting tips off.

"Dmitri called me the third of May, but not understanding the urgency of his message I didn't schedule time off until a week ago, handling all his other assets leaving his other home, lower down until last. I'm so sorry," he apologizes while I am not understanding.

"Telephone service has been restored?" I hear myself ask and again, that pained pity look Walsh gives me is there before he can mask it. "It's never - Faith there was no war," but this doesn't make sense.

"Dmitri said that we couldn't communicate like before, like in the movies because it no longer... he would be gone for nearly twenty days and we'd have no contact because the Regime didn't want the Independents sub-camps to communicate..." he shakes his head at my words.

"When I arrived to the home - I learned why he had such urgency in his voice, so I followed instructions left, I've been traveling for a few hours."

"You didn't bring any supplies," I note.

Walsh taps his finger twice on the table, his eyes focused on the table as well, before he looks up at me, "Because... you can't stay here Faith, there is no reason why you have to stay here, Dmitri - he's gone Faith, and he doesn't want you to stay here – and not only can I not leave you here, I could never in good conscious leave you up here," I blink not understanding again.

Even if the war was over now, did Walsh not understand that there was no one in the world that wanted me?

I skip over the obvious problem going with another a bit easier to say, "I do not have a body suit, or mask," the words robotic. Said not because I need the body suit, Walsh came without one, "I don't know how," to live out there, I finish inside my head.

"I traveled with some people, we've been reading Dmitri's daybooks, his notes..." I nod woodenly, "Why did he... I mean... there was - is no war?" I can't bring myself to say lie, Dmitri never - and I can't finish that sentence, everything a contradiction.

"You have history books?" I nod quickly, standing I run to the book shelf bringing the two I used for my lessons, "It's a world history book, and American history book, but they both stop at 1994 just two years before the regime took over in-" I stop abruptly - lie. All lies. Walsh wouldn't be impressed with my knowledge of the farce I now know I believed. With this one single thought, I look away, glaring at the table, at the two books I placed on the counter before him.

He reaches, inches his hands toward mine, but pulling it out of reach, his hand freezes in its spot, "I'm so sorry, Faith..." his words mean nothing to me as twenty years of stories, lies all need to be erased from my mind. Things that never happened, I close my eyes and the tears finally fall, I'm left bitter inside.

The device on the table rings and I wince when I think of knowing all this time - all the lies - Dmitri he left me alone each time... no way to contact him. Hours spent worrying, uselessly.

"Yes, I'll let her know, after packing we will be on our way." He ends the call and sits again, while everything settles inside me. I'm not going to be staying here, I'm not - I've never left. Dmitri said it wasn't safe. "Why?" I mumble looking at the granite.

"Why did - why did he lie? Where did I come from?" did Walsh know this? Did Dmitri leave this information for me? Was there a family looking for me? After seventeen years, I doubt they were still looking. They'd have to have given up.

"Are we even in Switzerland?" I force myself to ask, my eyes close as my heart falls, sinks down to my belly and my throat constricts. When Walsh clears his throat, that's my answer before he used his words. The moment the words fall from his lips, a blow after blow, and stab after stab.

"You're in the western mountains of North Carolina, Dmitri bought nearly five thousand acres of land, and you're three hours from the larger house, on that property, and another two or three hours to a small town-"

"I've never seen anyone-" I can barely hear myself.

"Anyone but Dmitri." The correction feels stale and I've only just done it.

"You're on private property," I nod, that makes sense. It doesn't but what else am I to do or say? Below the counter, my legs shake, weakly and out of my control, I try focusing on that, stopping that lancing pain that's taking hold of them. "We can - I've brought boxes... we can fill the car up, uhm you - I'm not sure how to deal with this to be honest Faith, I wasn't expecting this but I can't in good conscience leave you here..."

My head bobs, even while thinking that Dmitri left me alone plenty, maybe I could stay here and get supplies on my own, have Walsh show me how, and continue on my own. Yet as soon as it becomes an option, it feels wrong, when I believed that the world was in turmoil I wanted to seek outside of my safe haven. Now I learn that it's not, there are no Loyalists, there are Independents, this Regime is fictional. Just something Dmitri made up, something he made me believe.

Eyes closed, my reason bounces back, it had been nearly three months since I've seen Dmitri... my thoughts overwhelming chaotic as I try to fit what would need to happen for the air to be breathable. 

"Where am I going next?" I open my eyes and stare at Walsh, "Dmitri was a... a friend," he's lying – or withholding the truth – but I don't contradict him, I let that lie pass. What's one more from this stranger?

"He left you his belongings," I just blinked, Dmitri didn't have much, everything in the house was mostly mine, he had a bed, a draw of clothes, but everything he brought here were my things, "he left me his clothes and bed," I mumbled and Walsh blinked tilting his head to the left.

"Everything in the house is mine, all gifts, things he found or traded work for..." I swallow the rest of that lie, wanting it to be true.

"No... Faith I mean, he left you everything he owns, this estate, money, vehicles... Dmitri didn't have any family-" he doesn't mean to hurt me, but the words take my breath away and my bottom lip trembles. It can either be one of two ways, Walsh is Dmitri's friend or Dmitri was my family, we were each other's family. At this point it can't be both, and the answer is standing right in front of me, painfully. In the form of a man with short black hair, nothing like Dmitri's blonde. Nearly six feet two inches, just three inches shorter than Dmitri with sad pity filled brown eyes.

"Sorry," he mumbles, but thankfully pushes through, "You're going to be okay financially, you'll have quite the nest egg to help you adjust," I read between the lines of what is said and a part of me wants to say that money isn't what people use anymore, they barter, trade work for items but it's a lie. I know it's a lie. I don't need to say the words out loud for the look of utter pity to be caked on Walsh's face.

"I'm not sure but Dmitri said you excelled at the math, sciences and that you play piano well?" I nod, Dmitri liked to play and teach me. "I have a regular residence, I'm not there much, but I'm known in the town, there is a school I thought you might apply too, you'd live in the dorms there... I know - I mean - I'm always on business and so that school would be a good safe place for you, you wouldn't have to be alone..." I lift a brow and my eyes dart around the room, I've spent more time in my life alone than I have with company.

Thankfully, he doesn't apologize. He has enough though, more than Dmitri ever will have the chance too, and I'm split in three. It happened quickly, I'm numb, I'm angry and the third piece misses my family. I'm lost and found.

"I'll go get the boxes," Walsh announces, leaving me in my place. When he brings them in, I know I'm leaving this place, this is happening, wobbly I shakily walk and pick up one of the flattened box in even shakier hands, my vision blurs.

"Do you - can I help?" He wants to leave, I can tell from his voice. "I - I want to take - I - want to take my records, the wall is filled, I know I can't take them all," heaving, holding myself together, "the whole third shelf, those are my favorites, four boxes worth," I tell him and turn, leaving him and walking to my room. I don't make it to my bed, before I fall to my knees, my small broken on the inside body wracked with sobs as piece by piece the truth shattered the lies.

I didn't care that Walsh could hear me, that I was supposed to be packing my life up, enough to last his car, that I was terrified of this world I was entering, Walsh was helping but I would be on my own and while I was used to that, being on my own, frightened me. I convulsed on the ground, curling into myself, "Fatima? Fatima?" a knock sounds and in my blurred line of vision I see his boots.

"Oh Faith," the fog that settles over me is like a blanket of protection. I shake my head and Walsh sits against the wall, not speaking, not touching me, and just letting me have this moment. "I know it doesn't seem like things make any sense right now, but once we get you settled again, once you have some time to get accustomed and make a place for yourself..." words, words like Dmitri gave me, but look at those words I had? Lies.

"You have every reason not to trust me, but there is this whole world out there that you're going to experience, and I know that it may seem scary but Faith, you survived here on your own. What your life has been, and this isn't me trying to blacken what you've lived, but that - being so isolated is my worst fear.

You're a young girl, you've survived this, what's coming isn't going to be easy, it's going to be scary but you can endure that too." His voice strong, authoritative, holding such a distinctive promise.

I'm not sure how long I stay in this position, my muscles hurting, my skin covered in goose bumps, I stretch out, finding a bit of strength for what had to be done. When I rub my face and meet Walsh's eyes, I flush, my face burns, but he shakes his head, "No, you're entitled to what just happened," he says patiently.

"I'm okay now," I whisper, I don't mean the words but I feel like it's what comes next and I find when I do that, think of what comes next, my heart slows. So I say the words, because that's what comes next. I'm not sure if Walsh believes me, but he leaves and I move from the ground, I look around my room, wondering what to bring along.

I pack my books, two boxes.

I pack my portable vinyl record player, I pack my clothes.

I walk around the room in a daze state until item after item the place looks bare, the last thing I want to bring, my Polaroid camera. I hold it in my hands, against my chest, my case of photo's I've already packed. I wasn't sure I could look at them just yet, but if I was leaving this place, if I wouldn't be here for a while I wanted them with me.

"Anything else?" Walsh asks when I enter the living room. He's already carried all the boxes to the car, I've been afraid to cross the decontamination chamber that I saw Dmitri come and leave in all my life.

Always in a body suit. Always with a mask.

Walsh has had neither.

My throat raw, my face splotchy and my hands shaking and crying silently, "Can you..." I clear my throat, to try again, "on my birthday, Dmitri would take a photo of me, against the window, can you take it please?" he nods, and we go up the stairs, and even messy, and my heart breaking, I stand in the same spot I have since I could stand still, and I look at a different man behind the camera for the first time.

We go down the stairs, and Walsh lifts his hands to enter the code but drops his hand at the last minute, "You do it, the code is zero - seven - zero - three."

Stepping forward, I tap the buttons and to my left the door opens, Walsh enters, and with weak shaky legs, I stumble along. The air from below flies upward around me, my hair flying, and the final door opens, and I inhale deeply, for the first time, the air around me the scent tickles my nose. It's different than inside, the air in my safe haven was all filtered and controlled, but sometimes the items Dmitri brought me they had their natural scent. Pine, a woodsy, full and strong, musky and thick, the warm scent with a cold twinge burns my throat when I inhale and the air chills my tongue.

It's all very overwhelming, the air on my skin, on the tip of my tongue and the slight breeze carries my hair, my curls wrapping around my neck, tips tickling my back. I shudder as I exhale and when I finally remember that Walsh is with me, I glance in his direction. I see the questions in his eyes, but he doesn't ask, and I don't offer to tell him. The silent tears start all over again, and I take one step away from safe and one towards the frightening unexpected. Then another, until I'm in the car, and safe is a house in the side mirror, getting smaller and smaller until it vanishes. 

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© 2016 roxann_season All Rights Reserved

Hey everyone thanks for reading, if you've already voted, THANK YOU. If You haven't and you're enjoying Loving Ashlynn, please do... that's all I ask. Oh... and maybe sharing it... that too. Geez, I'm greedy! Sheesh. 

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Which do you like? A or B? 

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