DS #9 A Life for a Life (Prologue)

By Carol M.

Summary: A feared colleague from the Official's past comes to collect on a favor. Will it end up costing Darien his sanity or his life?

Spoilers: a little TDYK, BC, Reunion

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Keeping my fingers crossed for a new owner!!! I'm not ready to give up yet!

Devil's Silver Stories: Devil's Silver, Gilligan and Mrs. Howell, Follow the Breadcrumbs, Brother to Brother, A Tale of Two Brothers, Wicked Game, A Wedding Story, Uninvited (all available at Fanfiction.net under Carol)

Note: So here it comes again, the next Devil's Silver story. From what I can tell this one is going to be quite long and full of angst, Darien torture, romance, sweetness, drama, cliffhangers, the works. Did I mention Darien torture and angst? I suggest packing up a little DS survival kit which should include the following: ropes, tissues, a barf bag, maybe a little extra rope. Anyway, I'm kind of exploring the Official's past and present in this one, so I took the liberty of making some stuff up concerning his career background. Hopefully it will seem somewhat accurate. Also, I know nothing of pregnancy and babies, so if I mess up some details, I apologize. Other than that, sit back, relax and buckle your seatbelts, it's going to be a very long and bumpy ride. Enjoy!

1955

Twenty-two year old Charlie Borden looked himself over in the mirror, trying to detect if he did indeed look like a proper CIA agent-in-training. His black suit had cost him nearly all of his savings, but he quickly determined that it had been worth every penny when he saw the suave and sophisticated man looking back at him in the mirror. His brown hair had been neatly trimmed only the day before and still had that fresh, just been cut look. His crisp blue eyes were glowing with muted excitement against the blackness of the suit and the neatness of his hair. He looked young, agile and very prepared. Prepared for what he wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it was sure to be exciting.

He stepped out of the bathroom of Poncho's Taco Shop and absently wondered how long this dive would last. Of course, it was a favorite meeting place for local intelligence agents. The laid back atmosphere and frequent surfer customers always guaranteed privacy. A couple of suits in the place was enough to drive the surfers back out onto the beach, the sandy blonde wave heads not wanting to get anywhere near something that might say nine to five yuppie.

Charlie strutted back to his table and sat down, sipping on the large watered down Coke he had ordered and grimacing in disgust at the taco sitting on his plate. He memorized the faces of every person who walked in and out of the restaurant; mentally cataloging every detail about them, looking for things that just weren't right. Doing just what a good little CIA agent should. He glanced at his watch and the trace feeling of nervousness tore through his stomach. His new partner would be here any minute.

He reached into his pocket and brought out a pack of cigarettes. He took one out and lit it with a match from the Poncho's Taco Shop matchbook sitting at his table. He took a deep drag, letting the smoke fill up his lungs to their capacity. He blew the smoke out, watching as it made circular, floaty patterns in the air. Through the smoke, he saw a tall man dressed in a sharp looking navy blue suit march into the shop. Charlie gave the dark haired man who could've only been a few years older then himself his full attention.

"Royce McClellan?" he asked as he sat up and extended his hand.

Royce ignored him and sat down in the chair opposite Charlie. He looked him over and gave a slight shake of his head. "God, you practically scream first day, kid," he said, looking down. "Damn partner, I told them I work alone. But they stick me with you anyway," he said under his breath.

Charlie did his best to ignore the slight insult and took another drag off his cigarette.

Royce nodded towards the cigarette. "Those things will kill ya, you know."

Charlie exhaled his smoke and flicked ash into the ashtray. "I've been told that lots of things in this business can get me killed. I figure smoking is the least of my problems."

Royce smiled and emitted a hearty laugh from his throat. "Son, you have no idea what you're talking about." He leaned forward and looked at Charlie expectantly. "Have you ever killed a man, Charlie? Have you ever watched an entire family gunned down by a loony terrorist? Have you ever smelt the burnt flesh from the victims of a bombing? Huh? Have you?"

Charlie put out his cigarette in the ashtray and shook his head. His face was noticeably paler then it had been seconds earlier. "No, I can't say that I have."

Royce stood up from his chair and gave him a cool grin. "You will. Come on, were going to go do some exciting spy stuff."

Charlie nodded and stood up, throwing a few dollars on the table. He followed Royce out the door, all the while scanning the crowd for suspicious characters. He was led to a sturdy looking black government issued car "Get in," said Royce.

Charlie did what he was told and quickly got in the passenger's seat of the car. Royce joined him on the other side in the driver's seat and instantly took out an expensive looking cigar from the glove compartment of the car. He lit and sucked at the cigar until the car was filled with thick smoke. Charlie raised his eyebrows as Royce took a wealthy drag and blew it out his nose.

"Hey, if you're going to kill yourself, you might as well do it the right way," said Royce as he started the car and pulled off into the street.

They drove for about a half-hour in awkward silence. Charlie kept glancing over at Royce, eager to ask him a ton of questions, but the expression on his new partner's face told him that now was not the time. Charlie looked at the scenery passing by his window and realized that they were out in the middle of nowhere. "What are we doing out here?" he asked.

"Meeting a very, very bad man, Chuck. Can I call you Chuck?" he asked in a sarcastic tone.

Charlie cleared his throat and nodded, not wanting to let Royce know that he detested the nickname Chuck. He let his hand caress down the sides of his torso and felt the generous bump of the service revolver in the holster under his coat. Brand spanking new, never even been fired. He wondered if all of that would change after today.

Without warning, Royce pulled off the road into what looked to be an abandoned field. He drove the car another 20 yards and then shut off the engine. "Out," said Royce as he himself got out of the car and nodded towards a blue car parked about a 100 yards away.

Charlie did what he was told and swiftly exited his own side of the car. He had to run to catch up to Royce who was already in a fast walk towards the other car. "So what's going on? Who are we meeting?" asked Charlie when he finally caught up.

"Just shut up and leave everything to me. I didn't count on having a tagalong when I made the deal with this guy. If you screw this up, you could get us both killed," he said tensely. "Just stand there and be cool."

"Okay," said Charlie as he eyed a tall man standing near the other car.

Royce sped up his pace again and effectively left Charlie in his dust. "Jimmy, baby, you got something for me?" he said as he walked up to the man standing near the car. The man was in his late thirties with light hair and a murderous gleam about him. Royce gave him a playful punch to the shoulder.

The man eyed Charlie suspiciously. "Who the hell is this?" he asked.

"Oh him, he's no one. Just my shadow," said Royce. "I didn't want to leave his green ass in the car cause I figured he'd get lost. Might as well let him out to play with the big boys."

Charlie was eyeing the light-haired man intensely, unconsciously doing the visual catalog thing again as Royce and the man became embroiled in a somewhat heated conversation. Something was definitely off with this guy. The man kept darting his eyes nervously between Royce and Charlie, fidgeting with something in his pocket. Charlie's eyes went to the pocket and saw the outline of something that looked suspiciously like a gun.

Instinct and survival skills took over and Charlie clumsily fumbled for his own gun. But Charlie was just too slow. He suddenly felt his body being snatched up by the man, a piece of cold metal coming to rest on his temple. The man tightened his finger on the trigger, seconds away from blowing the young agent's head into a million bloody pieces.

In a movement so fast that Charlie would still wonder about it 45 years later, Royce pulled a gun out of his holster and shot the man in one gracefully fluid motion.

The man's blood splattered all over Charlie's face as his head blew off and the body fell to the ground. Charlie's stomach heaved and he vomited all over the ground beside the body. When he was finished, he shakily got to his feet and glanced at the dead man. He then looked up at Royce with a haunted gaze. "Thanks," he whispered softly.

Royce sighed in disgust. "You just remember this, kiddie. You remember I saved your worthless ass the first freakin day on the goddamn job. Nearly got my own head blown off in the process, you freakin idiot," he shouted, eyeing Charlie with an intense glare. "Messing up my record because my damn partner is gun happy. Not to mention that fact that I just blew away a guy who had information that could have saved millions of lives!"

Charlie looked back towards their black car, wanting to run to it and drive away, pretending like none of this had ever happened. With hesitation, he looked back at the body lying on the ground and shook his head. This body was a first for him, but he suspected it was only the beginning of a long career filled with dead bodies. And violence. And torture. And bloodshed.

Royce opened the trunk of the man's car and then carefully picked up the body, tossing it in carelessly amongst a spare tire and old blankets. He slammed the trunk closed and kicked one of the tires. "You owe me, son, you owe me for this one," he muttered over and over again in a way that downright scared the hell out of Charlie.

The words seeped into Charlie's brain, knowing deep down inside that he had just made some sort of sick accidental deal with the devil. But it would be another 45 years until the devil would come back to collect his payment.

TBC