This is a direct sequel to my previous story Red In Tooth and Claw
if you haven't read that, then the chances are very little of this will make sense at all
All rights held by the usual suspects
Story can not be reposted without authors written consent
With thanks to Terradyne for proofreading

A Life More Ordinary
Chapter 1: Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot...

To an outside observer, the office would have seemed somewhat contradictory.

The furniture was laid out with near geometric precision, from the desk and chairs right down to the computer terminal and stationary. The dull, light brown carpet was the kind often picked for civil offices because it was stain resistant and hard wearing, cutting down the number of times it had to be cleaned or replaced. The twin, battered, battleship-grey filling-cabinets wouldn't have looked out of place in any office for the last six-hundred years, if not longer. Each was topped with extra folders that simply refused to fit into the draws. The walls were painted a soft, lifeless beige intended to have a calming influence but more likely to suck the will to live from anyone who spent any time looking at them. Aside from the window that took up half of one wall, the only lighting came from a pair of fluorescent strips hidden behind a cheap plastic cover that did a poor job of looking like frosted glass.

Yet for all that, there were unmistakably warm touches. A child's finger paintings hung on the wall amid the commendations and certificates, a framed family portrait sat on the desk opposite the computer display, and a well-used mug bearing the title WORLD'S BEST DAD in big red letters sat atop a handmade coaster. Of the two jackets that hung from the hooks by the door, one was a green padded wind-breaker with the word SHERIFF printed on the back in large, golden letters, while the second was a black leather bomber-jacket that looked like it had seen more than its fair share of use over the years.

None of this mattered to the room's only occupant, who sat behind the desk with a resigned look on his face, his eyes fixed on the computer terminal. Organising the weekly staff roster to take into account the long overdue vacation of one of his deputies shouldn't be so difficult. He'd been a deputy himself for fifteen years before bowing to popular demand and stepping up to take the position of county sheriff when his predecessor retired. For the last five years he had been responsible for the safety of twenty thousand people. Not exactly the most taxing position he had ever held, but still something that was starting to turn his already greying hair white around the edges...

"Hello, John." an unexpected voice called from the doorway.

He couldn't help but be amazed at just how sharp his reflexes still where, even after so long. He had his side-arm drawn and at the ready even before he realised what he was doing. It was only his equally sharp instincts that stopped him just short of actually pulling the trigger, but it had been far closer than he would have liked to admit. His keen eyes quickly took in the situation; the woman standing before him was dressed in civilian clothing that was just a little too stylish for somewhere as far off the beaten track as Wolf Lake, but not enough to make her stand out in a crowd. Her jacket was tight enough that his well-trained eye could detect the faint outline of a holstered side-arm, but her slender arms were folded across her chest as she leaned against the door-frame. Her hair, much like his own, was starting to go a little grey in places, and there were more than a few lines around her mouth and eyes.

"You going to point that thing at me all day, or are you going to invite me in?" The woman asked, amazingly relaxed for someone with a gun pointed at their head, "Because I've come a very long way to see you, and I'm not as young as I used to be, so I could use a seat."

The sheriff remained perfectly still, his senses reaching out as far as they could. He could hear the chatter of the CB radio out by the desk and the clicking of keys as the deputy on duty there went about their work. The low rumble of a truck carrying freshly cut lumber along the road outside mingled with the songs of the local bird-life. His nose could detect the first faint hints of a fresh pot of coffee on the boil in the small break room down the hall, rich with promises of cinnamon and hazelnut. Nothing at all seemed out of place, aside from the woman standing before him. A woman he hadn't seen in a little over twenty years. A woman who should, by all rights, be on another planet thousands of light-years away, believing him to be long dead. She should not, under any circumstances he could think of, have been standing in his office doorway.

"Kendra..." he almost croaked, his mouth suddenly almost painfully dry, "How...? Why...?"

"That is a very long story, and if you don't mind I will sit down to tell it." the woman closed the door and crossed the room to sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk, seemingly unconcerned about the gun that tacked her every move, "Five days ago I was back home on Kobol, sitting in my office, going over some very boring reports for anything the other analysts might have missed, when I was visited by an old friend of yours. I was more than a little surprised to see him, even more so when he explained just what had really happened back on... well, the last time we saw each other."

"Edward." John's eyes narrowed as he lowered his gun, "Why? After all these years, why now?"

"Because your daughter did something that, under other circumstances, might be considered admirable: she donated blood while on a school trip to a hospital, despite the fact that you had specifically forbade it." Kendra rolled her eyes, "Kids today, huh? Never listen to their parents. Anyway, the hospital A.I. ran the regular tests to determine blood type and to check for any diseases, and, well, you can imagine what it found. Fortunately Edward had left one of his little friends to keep an eye on you, and they were able to clean up the mess before it got any further, but The Conclave came to the consensus that someone needed to come talk to you in person. Someone they knew you would listen to. So they chose me. Turns out being a spy-master gets you a reputation for being good at keeping secrets."

"Miranda...we've never told her." The sheriff closed his eyes, "Beth and I felt it was best not to burden her with the truth."

"As a mother myself, I can understand that. I know my own children have enough trouble coming to terms with the idea that their parents took part in some of the events written about in the history books." Kendra nodded in agreement, "I take it you've at least heard of some of the films and TriVee shows about, well, what we got up to, back in the day? They never get it just right, no matter how much research they do."

"I've never taken much of an interest in what others have to say." John shrugged, "I was there, I know what happened: that's enough for me."

"Probably a very healthy way to look at things." Kendra chuckled, "But the fact remains that you are going to have to talk to your daughter; she needs to understand the risks that come with simply being who and what she is. That's not something you can protect her from forever."

"Yeah, we know." The sheriff admitted, "It's just, well, it never seemed like the right time. And now she's getting ready to graduate and is talking about going to collage in the capital..."

"...and all it will take is one blood test or in-depth medical exam to set off every alarm bell between here and Caprica." Kendra frowned, "You had to know this day was coming; you've done a remarkably good job of hiding your tracks, but it's all just one big house of cards, and the wind has started to blow."

"I think you're mixing your metaphors, but your point is valid."

"So you'll talk to her? And soon?"

"Tonight."

"Good." Kendra smiled, "You know, having come this far, I wouldn't mind seeing 'Beth' again. It's been a long time, and she was a good friend to me when no-one else would give me the time of day."

"She'd like that. We don't talk about, well, 'back in the day', very much, but I know she misses you and Sharon."

"Yes, I did notice that a certain someone scored higher then I did when it came to naming your daughter."

"Don't take it personally; Beth tossed a coin, and it was always going to be Miranda if we had a girl."

"Well, I have a son named John and a daughter named... after Beth."

"You have photos?"

"Thousands; I'll show you later." Kendra nodded to the phone on the desk, "You going to call ahead?"

"No." John chuckled, "I want to see the look on her face when she sees you."

It was a short drive from the Sheriff's office out to the split-level, ranch style house at the base of one of the mountains that surrounded the town on three sides. It was far enough out to give a feeling of privacy, but close enough to be convenient. The sun was still high in the sky as the somewhat battered but still perfectly serviceable Warthog pulled into the gravel driveway behind a newer sedan. Even from that distance, and despite the thick, insulated glass windows, it was possible to hear raised voices from within the house.

John groaned under his breath as he locked his car and led his guest down the driveway towards the house, absent mindedly catching a baseball that had been aimed at his head with incredible speed and accuracy from somewhere out of sight. It hit the palm of his hand with a loud crack, but his arm didn't move so much as a single millimetre.

"Better luck next time." He tossed it back to a young man just emerging from the trees, who looked like a younger version of himself, "Sam, this is Kendra, an old friend of your mother and I. Kendra, this is Samuel, our youngest."

"Ma'am." The teenager nodded, surprised given that he thought he knew all his parents friends.

"Nice to meet you, Sam." Kendra nodded, "You certainly took after your father's side of the family."

What she said was true; even at fourteen, he stood over 170cm, broad at the shoulder and over a hundred kilograms. It was clear, despite the baggy clothing he wore, that there wasn't a gram of fat on his lean body. But it was his piercing, icy-blue eyes and stoic stance that most resembled that of his father. But there wasn't the hard edge that still remained behind John's eyes, the look of someone who instinctively calculated the quickest and most efficient way of killing you the moment they looked at you. It was a look Kendra had grown used to over the years of her interaction with the various SPARTANS who lived or served on Kobol. None of them ever lost it, but she had long since stopped taking it personally. Fortunately, Sam looked like any other teenager; teetering on the verge of adulthood, but still a child at heart.

"Mir's going nuts again." The boy cocked his head towards the house, "She got a D on her English Lit exam, and now mom says she can't go out with Devon tonight."

"Devon?" Kendra asked inquisitively.

"Her boyfriend." John replied gruffly.

"Brave kid." Kendra chuckled.

"He's a cocky little..." John took a deep breath, "He's a very self-confident young man."

"Aren't daughters just wonderful?" Kendra asked rhetorically, "Now come on; I want to see Beth and meet this Miranda who's gotten you so worked up."

John just grunted as he led the way towards the house, the shouting from inside growing louder with every step. They were only a few paces away when the door was flung open so hard it hit the wall and rebounded, almost colliding with the young woman who came charging out after it.

If Sam looked like his father, than Miranda definitely took after her mothers side of the family. She stood around 1.7 meters, with shoulder length blonde hair. Kendra had a mental flash-back to the first time she had seen her mother, decades before on New Caprica. She had the same inquisitive grey-blue eyes as her mother and grandmother, albeit right that moment with the righteous fury that only a young woman angry with her parents could muster. She was so busy glaring over her shoulder at someone in the house that she walked right into her father, bouncing off of him and falling over backwards. John's reactions proved to be as quick as ever, and he caught her by the arm and pulled her back to her feet.

"You got a 'D' in English Lit?" He asked, surprisingly calmly.

"Traitor." Miranda glared at her younger brother, who just smirked, "So what if I did?"

"You're not a 'D' student." John countered, "At least, not when you're studying rather than spending time with Devon Harper."

"God, just because you're so old you're practically a fossil doesn't mean that I can't enjoy my life." His daughter complained, shaking her self free of his grip, "I'm almost 18; you can't run my life forever!"

"Frak me!" A voice called form inside the house, stopping John before he could say something he'd regret.

"Hello, Elizabeth." Kendra smiled, "Long time, no see."

The years had been kind to her friend; her hair remained blond, with not hints of grey, and there were only a few lines around her face. But aside from that, she looked very much the same as they had the last time they'd seen each other. Beth strode over to her friend and embraced her in a tight hug, a deep smile on her face. Then, just as quickly, the smile faded and was replaced with a look of fear and anxiety.

"Wait, if you're here, then..." She looked around, keen eyes scanning the hillside and sky for any possible threat to her family, "How long do we have?"

"No one else knows, not yet." Kendra did her best to reassure the other woman, glancing at Miranda, "That's part of what we need to talk about. All of us."

To Be Continued...