It was one of those days that Cassandra Wyatt woke up with an awful feeling. She was not naturally superstitious, that had been her mothers main attribute in life, but today she was. Today she wondered which side of the bed was the correct one to get out of, which foot she should put through her trousers first, whether there were black cats or ladders on the path on her way to work. It was stupid, but she had a sneaking suspicion that she shouldn't tempt fate - not today.
To her surprise, work was as uneventful as it usually was. Patients would walk in, give a small smile as they delved into their daily tragedies. She allowed them to take the spot light as she feigned interest, catching the cues with natural ease. The 'umms' and 'ah yes' only helped them continue with their dramatic monologues as the hour-glass in the corner of her stuffy office passed its sand almost in slow motion, tantalizing her with the notion that her day may soon come to an end.
And as if by some miracle, it did end. Not a minute too soon.
Cassandra had yet to get used to this nine to five business. Having a routine was foreign to her. Not being creature of habit by nature, utter chaos was what made her days tick on by with the uneven trajectory that made her feel safe. But it was not by choice that she had fallen into this routine; it was an order, and although renowned for her rebellious nature, she would never dare disobey a direct order - ever.
The memory of the conversation still resonated within her mind as if it were yesterday, and not nine months ago tomorrow, not that she was counting. It still made her blood boil as she remembered being called up to the directors office. He was notorious for making a scene, with Cassandra as the unwilling protagonist. The others looked at her with curious eyes as she rolled her own and left the comfort of the bullpen and made her way up the flight of stairs, two at a time.
The folder in his hand put her on edge as soon as he closed the door behind her. With that, she became instantly claustrophobic. He looked at her with worried eyes and hesitated when he held the brown envelop towards her, tamper ribbon beautifully wrapped around its pins. The contents of this envelope was going to change everything, and probably for the worse. At least that is what his eyes said to her. Leon Vance was always so easy to read. All his attempts to hide his thoughts from her were thwarted by the tension in his face and the slight twitch of his lips as he asked her to open the envelope. She did as she was told, as always, and has regretted it every day since.
Cassandra was brought back to the present by the sound of a people screaming in the streets. It wasn't unusual for there to be a violent domestic on the streets of downtown L.A. so she simply raised her hood, continuing on her long journey to what she had yet to actually call 'home'.
It was a beautiful detached house on the outskirts of Griffith Park, over an hour walk from the office - but it was worth every minute. It was her only condition to this ridiculous assignment. She refused to be put up in a town house or a swanky apartment. Her time had been and come in the city and she couldn't be away from nature any more. Of course, he had agreed. The surprise in his eyes when this was her only condition almost amused her. It didn't though.
Leaving the familiar sounds of downtown L.A. behind, she strolled leisurely through Korea Town, her cold hands lost deep in the pockets of her Parker coat and her feet following the inertia as she was lost once again in her thoughts.
Cassandra had always been good a keeping secrets, so when Leon requested her silence and indiscretion, she was actually slightly insulted. Her disapproval must have been apparent as he immediately apologized before waving her to sit down, a gesture he knew was wasted on the agent. She had leant slightly against the conference table in his office, and delicately unwove the ribbon. It wasn't until she had pulled the ribbon off entirely did she realize that she had been holding her breath and from the lack of sound coming from the other side of the directors desk, it seemed that Leon was holding his as well.
She had been right, which wasn't surprising. The contents of this envelope was going to change everything for the worst. It would mean leaving Virginia. It would mean leaving behind the only people that she knew. It would mean having to lie - again . It would mean having to start over as someone new - again. It would mean being alone - again. And to top it all off, it would probably mean suicide.
She remembered not being able to speak, fearful that the tears that had begun to prickle her eyes would flow out into the open. She had never got into that nasty habit either, as much as Ducky insisted that she was human and showing emotions was healthy and talking about them was even healthier. Rubbish, in her not so humble opinion. She remembered placing the photos back into the envelope and re-weaving the ribbon with intricate accuracy. It hadn't been the first tamper ribbon that she had removed and replaced without anyone knowing. She was good at her job, after all, that was the reason she was leant against the mahogany conference table, staring straight at the man that she owed everything to.
But I still can't forgive you, Leon
Korea Town was all lit up, bustling with tourists travelling along to East Hollywood with bright eyes and wonder. She had never spent more than a few days in L.A. before and as much as people say how amazing this place was, she had yet to see the intrigue. Nine months of travelling along the same 7 mile stretch of streets, twice a day was already too much L.A. for her.
The rest of the journey only added to the uneventful day, and as she opened the front door, she couldn't help but smile at the irrational paranoia that had flooded her mind that morning. Why on earth she had allowed her thoughts to be invaded by superstitious nonsense, baffled her.
With her coat hung on the owl shaped peg in the hall way, she found herself greeted by the soft sound of her new housemate.
"Evening Tiger" bending down to swoop the turtle shell in her arms, where he nuzzled and purred in contentment. "Yeah yeah - you only want me for the tuna" She rolled her eyes at him as she slipped off her shoes and walked just a few feet into the kitchen.
As pristine as the day she had first walked into the kitchen almost nine months ago, it looked like it could have come out of a holiday brochure or something of that sort. The only two appliances that showed any sign of having been used was the percolator on the centre island and the electronic tin opener in the far corner. One could speculate as to what was in the cupboards by these two items, and they'd be right. Tins of tuna and filter coffee were the only two items that were purchased from the convenience store in Los Feliz, and tuna was something she'd have never thought to buy, in the past.
The sweet little turtle shell followed her home one day about a month after she had moved in and had yet to leave. A small part of her had been a little sceptical about having to take care of another living being and had anyone that knew her well been asked, they'd have laughed at the idea. She found it hard enough to look after herself, let alone anything that would depend on her for survival - hence the void of greenery in the house. Everything she touch ends up dead, or at least all but Tiger.
She placed Tiger on the side and reached up for the last tuna tin. She made a mental note to walk into Los Feliz tomorrow and buy some more for this fussy little kitten. She couldn't help but smile as she recalled buying copious amounts of cat food that he simply turned his nose up at. 'Snobby little kitty' She'd always say to him as the tuna was put down for him, but just as she was about to say those three little words, a phone rang.
The Un-familiar sound of the mobile ringing in a box on the bookcase startled her. It took her a moment to react and pull the box out from behind the Canterbury Tales. Staring blankly at the screen: 'Unknown Caller'. Partial amusement came over her as she analysed the ironic caller id. She knew exactly who it was. This particular number was known by one man and one man only –
"What do you want?" she barked down the phone, injustice and malice slipping through each word.
"Just checking in." He paused, most likely sifting through his taught etiquette to further the conversation. "How are things?" He was obviously a slow learner.
Cassandra couldn't help but allow a wry smile to creep upon her lips. He had never been good a talking to her. It really was no surprise after all that they had been through but, still, it amused her a little. Moving out of the kitchen and into the living room she allowed him to stew in the awkward silence that she had created. It was the least she could do on this fine L.A. evening. "Things are as they always are" she finally replied, taking a seat in the centre of the antique sofa that came with the house.
"Good" His reply was direct, and with that she waited. Waited for him to get to the point of the conversation. Pleasantries between them had fizzled into unallocated space years ago, but there was some sense of admiration that he still tried, despite everything. "Miss Wyatt I -"
"No need for formalities Leon." Lifting her legs up upon the sofa, she stretched out into a laying position, readying herself for the night ahead where she would pick her own brain until it was physically impossible to stay awake. "What is the real reason you've called?". It was late and she had no inclination to entertain the directors call.
"That is all agent. Just a check in". He was lying, of course, but the spark of interest was vacant in her mind. There was very little that could be said to her these days that would instigate a response. With boredom, she yawned before replying.
"Well that's just great Leon. Thank-you for your concern. Now if you don't mine I-" The sound of the grass blades crunching outside caused her immediate stop. Slowly, she reached in between the sofa cushions and pulled out the semi pocket pistol.
"Cassie?" she ignored the director, but left the phone occupying the place she had been laid just moments before. It would be nice to have some sort of witness, even if it was someone over 2000 miles away.
Creeping silently along the floor, she listened out for further noises. She leant up against the window frame and peered outside to see the origin of the suspicious noise, but to her surprise - there was nothing. Relaxing her body, she rolled her eyes a laughed silently to herself. Superstitious, paranoia idiot. She paced back to the sofa and grabbed the phone, a small smile still upon her face.
"Don't worry Leon, false alarm I g-"
Cassandra caught the light before the sound began to resonate. She had not seen the explosive device being thrown through her front room window, let alone had time to react. Her body flew forcefully into the sofa, that turned upside down over her body, protecting her from any shrapnel that was begin scattered through the air. The phone, however, had not been so lucky, shattering as she had fallen, cutting the call short, leaving the director shocked silent in his desk chair in NCIS headquarters as he rang of the dead tone and quickly dialed another number.
"Get Wyatt Now!"
