A/N: Hi! Okay, uhm . . . this is my first "1-800-Where-R-U" fic. I usually do Charmed, but recently I began to reread the series (right after rereading the "Mediator" books) and I had the urge to write a fic that was something other than Charmed.

I haven't finished rereading the books, however. I'm 3/4 of the way done with "Safe House." So this fic is going to take place six months after "Code Name Cassandra" and the events from "Safe House" and "Sanctuary" never happened.

Summary: It's been six months since the Feds have trailed Jess, trying to catch her in a lie. But now Smith and Johnson are back and they need Jess to do something for them. If she helps them, though, she'll be admitting she lied and they'll know she's still psychic. Will she do what's right, or do what's right for her?

Sorry if it sucks . . . this was a spur of the moment thing and I'm not sure how good it'll be.

Please review, flames welcome! Just not to harsh, please? Lol.

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So, I'm sitting in class, completely minding my own business. Okay, and I'm spacing out. Can you blame me? I'm never going to use geometry – ever. Never ever.

So why am I being forced to take it? Honestly. And these teachers? Yeah, they suck. First of all, they act as if Geometry is the greatest thing since sliced bread. No joke. And second of all, they can't teach for beans.

So I started to space out. I stared out the big window on the other side of the classroom, listening to the soft ticking of the clock. And you know what? The teacher didn't even realize. She just kept on teaching, speaking with suck passion in her voice about how a line never ends and a point is an imaginary spot on a line. It was enough to make you sick.

Then someone knocked on the classroom door. I finally came back down to the planet earth long enough to see what was going on. Mrs. DeCarlo – the teacher – looked offended at being interrupted (I kid you not) as she walked to the door and opened it, just a crack. I couldn't see who was there.

I found out, anyway, a minute later.

"Jessica," Mrs. DeCarlo said, turning to look at me. "You're needed."

She opened the door wider and I saw who had interrupted the class: my good friends Special Agents Johnson and Smith.

Oh joy.

What now? What could I possibly have done now? Sure, I was still in cahoots with Rosemary, but we'd cut it down to one kid every two weeks, instead of every week. It meant we were finding less kids, but it kept the Feds from getting too suspicious.

Until now, I guess.

But it had been six months since I'd last spoken with them. They'd left me alone completely. They had even untapped my phone, stopped looking through my mail, and stopped parking in a white van outside my house.

So why were they back now? I had kept my secret hidden so well. How could they possibly still think I had my psychic powers?

Slightly shaky – well, you would be to if you were being chased by Feds for almost two years – and gathered by things. Everyone stared at me as I left the room and Mrs. DeCarlo closed the door on my way out.

"Come with us, Jess," Special Agent Smith said.

Whoa, what? No. No, no, no! I wasn't going anywhere with them. That always ended with me blowing up a helicopter or a van to get away.

"No," was all I said to them, though.

"We aren't taking you off school grounds," Special Agent Johnson croaked, his voice shaking.

What? His voice was shaking? What was going on? Was this how he got when he was really mad? Uh-oh.

"Then where are you taking me?" I asked, not moving.

"Somewhere where there aren't as many classrooms. Just outside the building. We just want to talk, I promise," Agent Smith said.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. I laughed out loud. "Right. That's what you guys always say. Sorry, but I'm not falling for it this time"

"Jessica, just come with us outside the building to talk. That's all we want," Johnson snapped. He had – wait. There were tears in his eyes! Were Feds supposed to cry like that?

I nodded that I'd come. How could I not? Something was really wrong.

So I followed them outside onto the steps of Ernest Pyle High School. I sat on the cement railing and they stood in front of me.

"Jess, we need you're help to find-"

"No way," I said, cutting Smith off. "When are you guys going to give up? I told you, I'm not psychic anymore. I can't do it. I thought you guys had realized that, too, when you stopped following me 24/7."

Smith glanced awkwardly at Johnson. He nodded, trying his best not to cry. He pulled out a picture from his wallet and handed it to me.

I didn't take it, or look at it.

"I told you, the powers are gone. I'm not psychic anymore and I can't help you. Won't you people just leave me-"

"Jess," Smith snapped. Wow. It wasn't like her to snap. "Listen to us, please? Just hear us out. Or, well, hear Johnson out."

I sighed, agitated. I'd rather be listening to Mrs. DeCarlo talk about Geometry like it was the love of her life then try to convince – for the hundredth time – Smith and Johnson that I was no longer in possession of my powers.

Even though that was a downright lie. But I wasn't going to let them know that, was I?

"Jess, please," Johnson said gently.

Okay, what's going on? Johnson has always disliked me, since the first time we met and I broke his nose. Well, he scared me, okay? I was simply making a phone call to Rosemary (though I didn't know who she was at first) and they walked up to me and demanded I go with them. You would have sucker punched him, too.

Special Agent Johnson shoved the picture, image side up, into my hand and I was forced to look down at it.

The picture was of a little girl. She was adorable, with wavy, chocolate brown hair, hazel eyes, and an adorable smile. She was wearing a cute blue dress and it looked like it was a school picture.

I winced. She was missing? Someone had kidnapped her? Did she really want to be found?

And wait, why were Special Agents Johnson and Smith giving me a picture of a little girl? Usually, they wanted me to find men who had, supposedly, committed crimes against the lovely US of A. The pictures they usually shoved under my nose were of traitors, they said, who needed to be brought to justice, or of murderers and dead-beat dads. So why were they giving me this picture of a little girl?

I looked up at them. "She's adorable. But I can't help you find her. To find her, I need my Lightning Girl powers, which I don't have. Sorry." I shoved the picture into Jill's hands and got up. "I have to go back to class." I turned to walk away – and guess what?

I couldn't move.

Well, not completely. I could move, I just couldn't walk forward because, I saw when I turned around, Johnson had his big bear claws on my wrist and wouldn't let go.

"Hey! That's assault, buddy. You can't just grab me like that!" I said, trying to sound brave even though my stomach was doing summersaults.

"It was also assault when you broke my nose, remember?" Johnson snarled. "Now sit back down and listen."

What choice did I have? So I sat on the concrete railing again. Jill passed the picture back to me and I tucked it into my jeans.

"That little girl? Her name is Tammie. She's five-years-old. She was kidnapped from her home two nights ago and there are no leads. There was a ransom note left, which I have a copy of for you to look at. It's imperative that she be found and brought back to her home ASAP," Johnson explained.

I felt bad. I did, really. But I couldn't say, Sure, I'll help! I'd tried so hard to keep secret the fact that I still had powers. And if I helped them, I'd be proving them right; that I had lied about the powers disappearing.

"I'm sorry, Agents, but I can't help you," I said, really trying to sound heartbroken and sincere. "I'd help if I had the powers, but I don't. You'll have to do it the old fashioned way."

"Jess-" Johnson said. He took a deep breath. Still trying not to cry? "We know you still have your powers, even if you won't admit it. That's why we finally gave up; we couldn't do anything if you didn't outright admit it. So we left it alone. And we wouldn't have come back, but this - this is different. We promise you, even if you don't believe us, that all we want you to do is find that little girl. Do that and we'll leave you alone, for good this time."

I stared at them. He was right. I didn't believe them. And why should I? They were always lying to me, or saying one thing and doing another.

"No. I'm sorry. But I wasn't lying. The powers are gone," I replied tonelessly.

Johnson took a deep breath. "Jessica, please. That little girl – she's – she's-"

I blinked. "She's what?"

Johnson looked me directly in the eyes. "She's my daughter."