AN: Well…I don't know this section very well, and I haven't really read any of the fics. All that I know is that I am in love with the Ocean's movies (and the men :) ) and I would REALLY love to write a nice long fic about them. I write mostly Beatles stuff, as I am a HUGE Beatles freak, but I thought I'd try something new for once. So…here goes?

For a long time, I grew up thinking that my name just meant that I was 'Little and Womanly'. I actually thought Caroline was a pretty good name, to tell you the truth. It could be shortened and made cuter, and it could also be long and full and pretty. Little and womanly…yeah, I could definitely live with that. Not bad at all. It wasn't until I was…er…I'd say a junior in high school, probably, when I came out of my naïve little shell and realized that it was never my FIRST name that I should be looking at. Rather, it was my LAST name.

As far as last name's go, Ocean is pretty solid. Oceans are usually peaceful, beautiful, serene. And while those aren't exactly words I would use to describe myself, I guess I never had any complaints. But what I never really took the time to notice, was that that name had little to do with ME in the first place. And the trouble that came along with it certainly didn't apply to me, right?

Wrong.

My father usually referred to Uncle Danny as That Man, and I hardly ever saw him. But on the few rare occasions that he DID manage to stop by my house, he always brought the best surprises. A karaoke machine on my seventh birthday, a pretty lady that I got to call Auntie Tess on my Communion day, oh, and definitely the BEST one was the pony he brought to what my father had warned would be my last birthday party ever. In my family, it was commonly known that my father was the cheap, worrying, boring brother, and my uncle was the fun, hilarious, handsome one.

In short, my mom got the shit end of the stick.

So, lalalala, Uncle Danny's so great and rich and we love him and all that good stuff—and then he goes and lands himself in prison. And boy oh boy, do I remember that night well.

…

Dad put his phone down, huffing and staring at the wall. It was regular for him to answer phone calls during dinner, and I had learned to accept it a long time ago. I mean, it's not like it was disrupting the conversation flow. It was just me and him, so there wasn't really much to say.

"What's up?" I asked, taking a forkful of steak and making it hover just before my mouth. I was ready for him to launch into a full, detailed description of the phone call that I had already heard part of, but he still said nothing. Concerned, I put my fork down.

"Dad—seriously, what's wrong?"

He sighed, pushing his plate away from him and staring down at his long, dark fingers. What was he thinking? That was something I often wondered about David Ocean, a man so serious and blunt that I wondered sometimes how he was able to function. The only one who could EVER make him laugh was Mom, and that…well, that was history, as they say.

"Caroline…it's your uncle."

Immediately, relief washes over me. Now if there was a line I had heard often in my life, it was that one. Uncle Danny craved trouble, or so it seemed, and was always getting in mild forms of it. Now that I thought about it…where did he work? The subject had never come up, but he was pretty wealthy and I KNEW that wasn't something that just happened overnight.

"Oh, man. What's he done this time?" I asked, grinning, and leaning on my elbows to get more into the conversation. Dad casts a scathing look at my position, and keeps staring at my arms until I slip them back to my sides.

"He's in jail," Dad said slowly, as though I'm five and don't have a very clear picture of what jail is.

This statement is a little bit worrisome. The way Dad said 'jail' instead of 'in trouble' is a little bit more than ominous. It's like saying dead instead of sick, divorced instead of separated, cancelled instead of on hiatus.

"Permanently?" I joked feebly, chuckling lightly and trying to lighten the mood. In reality, I feel a little bit betrayed. Uncle Danny had promised me HIMSELF that he would never get into serious trouble. But hell, this isn't about me at all.

Dad picked up his fork, speared a green bean, and chewed rhythmically while I awaited his answer. "Possibly," he finally uttered, wiping his mouth gently with a napkin.

I tried to smile, hoping to God that my dad would smile back and tell me everything thing was gonna be alright. That was how it usually worked. But my smile faded when he continued to munch slowly on his dinner, the silence surrounding us like a thick, wool blanket. Frustration started to mount in my head, a million different thoughts colliding with each other. What had Danny done?

"Dad—" I tried, putting a hand on his forearm. He just knocked it off casually.

What if he killed someone? What if he killed someone in the MOB or something? What if Dad was so quiet because he didn't want to say the unspeakable crime that my uncle had committed?

"Would you PLEASE just tell me what the FUCK is going on here?" I finally burst, pounding my fist soundly against the table. The silverware rattled, knocking into the plates, and my father stopped mid chew.

His head slowly swiveled to look at me, his eyes distant and his expression blank. "I told you," he began coolly, "your uncle is in jail. There's nothing I can do—or even WANT to do—at this point." I saw the look of disgust creep onto his features, though he tried really hard to hide it on my part. It was only then, I think, that I realized just how much my dad really disliked Danny. But then again, there always has to be someone who secretly hates the loved one.

"What'd he do?" I asked bravely, staring down Dad straight in the eye, determined to get an answer.

"It's not up for discussion," he answered with equal fervor, his voice a deep monotone.

That was the last straw. I whipped my chair back, nearly knocked over the table with the force of my ascend to my feet, and stormed out of the dining room. I made sure that I pounded EXTRA hard on the way up the stairs, and I even took the time to call, "I HATE you!" back to my still seated father.

…

Ah, how I remember that fateful day. See, if it hadn't been for that, I might never have gotten suspicious and looked into Danny's happenings on my own. I was confident that he had only ever told my father of what he did, seeing as Dad seemed to be the only one who despised him. But the internet was a useful place. In fact, I would venture so far to say that if it wasn't for the websites that I pulled up that night, I might never have started dabbling into the hobby that is currently my career.

It was that night—the night of the fight—that the knock came at the door. At the time, I was just a little bit pissed off that someone had come to the door so late. But my father, always the night owl, was up, and he answered with his usual, "Hello, Ocean residence." I didn't think anything of it.

But I definitely should have.

AN: Okay, so I KNOW that right off the bat, it's an OC and the actual characters aren't even in it yet. Which is probably a major no-no. But you know what? Screw it. I have a plot somewhat in mind, and I'm gonna keep on that track for the most part (and yes, it WILL most definitely include the main characters) but if you guys have any suggestions, I would LOOOOOVE to hear them. In…I dunno…a…review, perhaps?