Post by Maggie Lefebvre on Mar 25, 2015 3:08:55 GMT
Age 7
Maggie LeFebvre stumbled through Philadelphia International Airport, her pink rolling suitcase making a high-pitched "squeak-squeak" noise as she made her way from the plane to baggage check, escorted by a stewardess. It had been a long flight from Paris for a seven-year-old, though she was easily entertained by the pilot, in-flight movies, and the older women who were taken with the little blonde wth curls down her back and dressed in the height of Parisian child fashions.
She spotted her father, and smiled. She flipped up her sunglasses, and waved.
DADDY! she yelled, her English still lightly accented from having been raised in Paris by her mom. It wasn't for a few more years of steady visits, and an eventual move, to the US that Maggie would be able to soften her accent . She gave the man a hug, and then let him get her bag and then lead her to a waiting black sedan. She felt like such a grown-up girl, riding around in the luxurious backseat. She had known since she was little that her father had money while her mother did not, but she didn't yet realize exactly what that meant.
A bit later, she was at her father's home-a large, two-story Edwardian in an uppercrust neighborhood of Philly. She had her own room! And the tall, young, skinny blonde that greeted her and her father at the door was his fiancee. Maggie knew what that word meant; it was French, after all. It meant that her dad was getting married again to someone who was NOT her mother.
Maggie changed her outfit, from her travel clothes to her party dress, for dinner. They were eating out, and Maggie was excited to learn about Thanksgiving, a holiday she'd never celebrated in France, and what exactly turkey had to do with it.
A bit later, she was sitting in a fancy resturant, ordering "Traditional Turkey Dinner" from the Prix Fixe menu with a bunch of people her father worked with. She was seated next to another girl, the child of the lead attorney her father worked for. The girl, Mary Ellen, was telling her all about Thanksgiving. Apparently, British people called Pilgrims came to the US to find a new life. Of course they were British. The French liked their kings and queens. Turkey was plentiful in those days-wild birds, like the grouse that populated her own homeland. She learned from Mary Ellen that Thanksgiving was a holiday for the children in the US. This piqued Maggie's interest; she disliked school. It distracted from her daydreams. Then, Mary Ellen asked her what she was grateful for, because you had to be thankful for things on Thanksgiving. Maggie thought for a minute.
I am thankful for my mom. She raises me alone. I am thankful that Daddy sends me nice stuff in the mail. I am thankful that I have a home and stuff to eat. Is it bad to say that I am thankful that I am a pretty girl? The ugly girls have to work SO hard.
Later that night, as she fell asleep in her canopy bed at her father's new home, she thought again. What she was really grateful for was the fact that she had two worlds to live in, and a chance at happiness.
CLICK ME
17 Again
Maggie LeFebvre had a lot going for her-near the top of her class, one of the prettiest and most popular girls in school, a cute boyfriend, and parents who didn't look after her. That was how Maggie found herself at a Thanksgiving party instead of at home with her dad and stepmom, number 2. Her father was away on business, this time in Los Angeles, and her stepmother was seeing her family-and lover-in Detroit.
By now, Maggie was used to being left alone to do her escapades. She figured that, as long as she was doing decently in school, and didn't get in too much trouble outside of school, her father would never be the wiser as to what his daughter did outside of the home. To the world, the LeFebvre's had it all-a nice house, plenty of money, the perfect little family. But keeping up appearances had played a toll on Maggie, and she had fallen in with a not-so-good crowd, partying hard every time she got a chance. By now, she had a bit of a cocaine habit, and was exploring heroin, as well drinking like a fish. Both of her parents were smart, though, and so school was easy for Maggie. The fact that American schools weren't as challengeing as thier French counterparts helped, too.
She arrived at the party a bit late; her stepmother had left a list of chores for Maggie to do. Of course, she had no intention of actually DOING it, so she'd called the housekeeper, offering the woman double her rate of pay if she'd come over that day. The woman had been a bit late, and the same thing with the hairdresser.
Maggie settled in at the couch, and took the plastic cup of beer passed to her. She chatted and talked and sang and messed around with her friends, holding court like the princess she'd been raised to be. She did a few rounds of the white stuff and the music turned up. She found her boyfriend, and they danced together for a bit. They excused themselves to her car, and then headed for her house.
A little later, as she lay in her bed next to her boyfriend, she was both sad and happy. Sad that her father was so far away, but happy that she had a lot to be thankful for that Thanksgiving-that she was in good health, that she had the best-looking boyfriend around, and that she had a warm home and plenty of food to eat.
We like red
25
Enseigne de vaisseau de deuxième classe (Ship-of-the-line Ensign second-class) Maggie Lefebvre stepped off the small plane in London. She took a deep breath before taking in her surroundings-her first case as a fully-fledged Marine Nationale officer, doing recon. SO exciting. Yah, so she had to work over Thanksgiving. The French Ministrie du Defence (minsitry of defense) didn't exactly recognize the holiday, though, so she was dressed and ready to kick some butt. She smiled as she was introduced to her "Boss and partner" for this case, a tall, good looking man called Correlli. WELL. At least they were giving her holiday entertainment.
She smiled her sweetest smile, and lowered her gaze just enough to be respectful. She really should've worn her leather skirt, but at least she got to wear dress blues was . She stepped forward, right hand extended.
Ensign Maggie LeFebvre.
Later, she found herself in a diner, across from Mike, playing the picture of perfectly in love couple. Of course, she had noticed that his attention remained on HER for most of the mission-she'd ensured that by "accidentally" shortening her skirt. She'd shone today; wheedling information out of one of two targets by flirting and acting like the dumb girl she was nothing close to.
Now things were a bit awkward-they were done for the day, and she had nothing else to do but eat dinner and turn in for the night. But first, she figured, if she had to work on one of her favorite holidays, she might as well enjoy her fish and chips and turned her full attention to Mike.
She wasn't exactly sure how it had happened. Well, ok, so she had planned the whole thing, but a couple of hours later, she was in bed, curled against Mike's body, smiling. THIS Thanksgiving? Well, she was thankful for her job, her wit, her mom, and most importantly, she was grateful for the hope that a new obsession brought.
Maggie Meets Mike Top
A Cosmic Thanksgiving (see "Party Time")
Ensigne de Vassieau Priemere Class (Ship of the line Lt.) Maggie Lefebvre suddenly found herself on a strange planet. Mike had said it was for her "well-being." Right. What kind of man sent his lover a few million lightyears away to keep her "safe?" She knew he was on thin ice-ready to divulge secrets that would tumble the entire American government-about to blow the whistle on corruption that ran so deep that it made the Mafia look like child's play-but really. She should be THERE, to help him. Because she had very little business in the Navy, and even LESS playing Star Wars on foreign soil. She'd said her goodbyes, and she wasn't one to stay steady-they had an understanding-Mike knew she wasn't going to wait for him to screw up his life..AND hers unless and until there was a ring on her finger or a baby in her arms (hopefully the former instead of the latter).
She STILL had her pick of men, a pretty red dress, and the promise of at least some kind of holiday fun. Christmas was coming, and, after that, New Years. A time for change. Maybe she'd finally get to go home. She could HOPE, right?! A part of her wanted to go, but a bigger part wanted to stay, wanted to SHOW them. Show them what she was ACTUALLY made of, that she was smart, and brave, and driven. She HAD gone to the Sorbonne, after all, and all she needed was someone to give her a chance. Why was that so hard?! She meant well enough, after all.
She smiled as she left the party. At least she had the comforts of the fact that she wouldn't be alone to be thankful for.
Party Time!
Maggie LeFebvre stumbled through Philadelphia International Airport, her pink rolling suitcase making a high-pitched "squeak-squeak" noise as she made her way from the plane to baggage check, escorted by a stewardess. It had been a long flight from Paris for a seven-year-old, though she was easily entertained by the pilot, in-flight movies, and the older women who were taken with the little blonde wth curls down her back and dressed in the height of Parisian child fashions.
She spotted her father, and smiled. She flipped up her sunglasses, and waved.
DADDY! she yelled, her English still lightly accented from having been raised in Paris by her mom. It wasn't for a few more years of steady visits, and an eventual move, to the US that Maggie would be able to soften her accent . She gave the man a hug, and then let him get her bag and then lead her to a waiting black sedan. She felt like such a grown-up girl, riding around in the luxurious backseat. She had known since she was little that her father had money while her mother did not, but she didn't yet realize exactly what that meant.
A bit later, she was at her father's home-a large, two-story Edwardian in an uppercrust neighborhood of Philly. She had her own room! And the tall, young, skinny blonde that greeted her and her father at the door was his fiancee. Maggie knew what that word meant; it was French, after all. It meant that her dad was getting married again to someone who was NOT her mother.
Maggie changed her outfit, from her travel clothes to her party dress, for dinner. They were eating out, and Maggie was excited to learn about Thanksgiving, a holiday she'd never celebrated in France, and what exactly turkey had to do with it.
A bit later, she was sitting in a fancy resturant, ordering "Traditional Turkey Dinner" from the Prix Fixe menu with a bunch of people her father worked with. She was seated next to another girl, the child of the lead attorney her father worked for. The girl, Mary Ellen, was telling her all about Thanksgiving. Apparently, British people called Pilgrims came to the US to find a new life. Of course they were British. The French liked their kings and queens. Turkey was plentiful in those days-wild birds, like the grouse that populated her own homeland. She learned from Mary Ellen that Thanksgiving was a holiday for the children in the US. This piqued Maggie's interest; she disliked school. It distracted from her daydreams. Then, Mary Ellen asked her what she was grateful for, because you had to be thankful for things on Thanksgiving. Maggie thought for a minute.
I am thankful for my mom. She raises me alone. I am thankful that Daddy sends me nice stuff in the mail. I am thankful that I have a home and stuff to eat. Is it bad to say that I am thankful that I am a pretty girl? The ugly girls have to work SO hard.
Later that night, as she fell asleep in her canopy bed at her father's new home, she thought again. What she was really grateful for was the fact that she had two worlds to live in, and a chance at happiness.
CLICK ME
17 Again
Maggie LeFebvre had a lot going for her-near the top of her class, one of the prettiest and most popular girls in school, a cute boyfriend, and parents who didn't look after her. That was how Maggie found herself at a Thanksgiving party instead of at home with her dad and stepmom, number 2. Her father was away on business, this time in Los Angeles, and her stepmother was seeing her family-and lover-in Detroit.
By now, Maggie was used to being left alone to do her escapades. She figured that, as long as she was doing decently in school, and didn't get in too much trouble outside of school, her father would never be the wiser as to what his daughter did outside of the home. To the world, the LeFebvre's had it all-a nice house, plenty of money, the perfect little family. But keeping up appearances had played a toll on Maggie, and she had fallen in with a not-so-good crowd, partying hard every time she got a chance. By now, she had a bit of a cocaine habit, and was exploring heroin, as well drinking like a fish. Both of her parents were smart, though, and so school was easy for Maggie. The fact that American schools weren't as challengeing as thier French counterparts helped, too.
She arrived at the party a bit late; her stepmother had left a list of chores for Maggie to do. Of course, she had no intention of actually DOING it, so she'd called the housekeeper, offering the woman double her rate of pay if she'd come over that day. The woman had been a bit late, and the same thing with the hairdresser.
Maggie settled in at the couch, and took the plastic cup of beer passed to her. She chatted and talked and sang and messed around with her friends, holding court like the princess she'd been raised to be. She did a few rounds of the white stuff and the music turned up. She found her boyfriend, and they danced together for a bit. They excused themselves to her car, and then headed for her house.
A little later, as she lay in her bed next to her boyfriend, she was both sad and happy. Sad that her father was so far away, but happy that she had a lot to be thankful for that Thanksgiving-that she was in good health, that she had the best-looking boyfriend around, and that she had a warm home and plenty of food to eat.
We like red
25
Enseigne de vaisseau de deuxième classe (Ship-of-the-line Ensign second-class) Maggie Lefebvre stepped off the small plane in London. She took a deep breath before taking in her surroundings-her first case as a fully-fledged Marine Nationale officer, doing recon. SO exciting. Yah, so she had to work over Thanksgiving. The French Ministrie du Defence (minsitry of defense) didn't exactly recognize the holiday, though, so she was dressed and ready to kick some butt. She smiled as she was introduced to her "Boss and partner" for this case, a tall, good looking man called Correlli. WELL. At least they were giving her holiday entertainment.
She smiled her sweetest smile, and lowered her gaze just enough to be respectful. She really should've worn her leather skirt, but at least she got to wear dress blues was . She stepped forward, right hand extended.
Ensign Maggie LeFebvre.
Later, she found herself in a diner, across from Mike, playing the picture of perfectly in love couple. Of course, she had noticed that his attention remained on HER for most of the mission-she'd ensured that by "accidentally" shortening her skirt. She'd shone today; wheedling information out of one of two targets by flirting and acting like the dumb girl she was nothing close to.
Now things were a bit awkward-they were done for the day, and she had nothing else to do but eat dinner and turn in for the night. But first, she figured, if she had to work on one of her favorite holidays, she might as well enjoy her fish and chips and turned her full attention to Mike.
She wasn't exactly sure how it had happened. Well, ok, so she had planned the whole thing, but a couple of hours later, she was in bed, curled against Mike's body, smiling. THIS Thanksgiving? Well, she was thankful for her job, her wit, her mom, and most importantly, she was grateful for the hope that a new obsession brought.
Maggie Meets Mike Top
A Cosmic Thanksgiving (see "Party Time")
Ensigne de Vassieau Priemere Class (Ship of the line Lt.) Maggie Lefebvre suddenly found herself on a strange planet. Mike had said it was for her "well-being." Right. What kind of man sent his lover a few million lightyears away to keep her "safe?" She knew he was on thin ice-ready to divulge secrets that would tumble the entire American government-about to blow the whistle on corruption that ran so deep that it made the Mafia look like child's play-but really. She should be THERE, to help him. Because she had very little business in the Navy, and even LESS playing Star Wars on foreign soil. She'd said her goodbyes, and she wasn't one to stay steady-they had an understanding-Mike knew she wasn't going to wait for him to screw up his life..AND hers unless and until there was a ring on her finger or a baby in her arms (hopefully the former instead of the latter).
She STILL had her pick of men, a pretty red dress, and the promise of at least some kind of holiday fun. Christmas was coming, and, after that, New Years. A time for change. Maybe she'd finally get to go home. She could HOPE, right?! A part of her wanted to go, but a bigger part wanted to stay, wanted to SHOW them. Show them what she was ACTUALLY made of, that she was smart, and brave, and driven. She HAD gone to the Sorbonne, after all, and all she needed was someone to give her a chance. Why was that so hard?! She meant well enough, after all.
She smiled as she left the party. At least she had the comforts of the fact that she wouldn't be alone to be thankful for.
Party Time!
