The fluorescent lights on the ceiling above mixed with the natural afternoon light streaming in from the window, creating a strange mixture of homely and clinical in the Assistant Director's waiting room. A young woman sat with a sense of forced stillness on a faux-leather chair next to the door to the office proper. She kept her face neutral and inscrutable, a practiced expression born from years of FBI work. All that betrayed her nervousness was her repeated attempts to push the left side of her shoulder-length brunette bob cut behind her ear, despite it being too short to reliably stay there. It was a nervous tic that she never could seem to break.
A small beep came from Secretary Ward's computer. She looked at it a moment before facing the young woman. "Agent Caulfield?"
Young Agent Caulfield jumped slightly in her seat, then tried to make it look natural by turning it into a lean on the arm of the chair. It did not look natural. "Yes Dana?"
"The Assistant Director will see you now." Agent Caulfield nodded once and thanked the Secretary as she got up and walked to the door. After a deep breath, she braced herself and entered the office.
It seemed like A.D Madsen wasn't as much of a fan of fluorescent light as the rest of the FBI. His office was primarily lit by the line of windows on the outer wall, the rest from a small lamp on his desk. The desk itself was a gorgeous mahogany thing, it dominated the room from just a little away from the outer wall, which meant that on a bright day like today Madsen was terrifyingly backlit, which didn't do much for Caulfield's already shot nerves.
She closed the door and promptly froze at the doorway as he finished up whatever paperwork he had been working on. She stood there for a moment before starting to gingerly step into the room proper.
Madsen glanced up and spoke over his bushy mustache. "Just come in Maxine, you're not in trouble."
She smiled and busied herself with making her way to the chair on the other side of his desk. Sitting down was awkward, she only wore flats, but she suspected that even in heels her feet would just barely touch the ground.. "Just Max, sir, if we're going to be so informal."
"Hm. Good point. Agent Caulfield, you're being reassigned." He said bluntly, not waiting for her reaction before continuing. "Are you familiar with the S-Files, Agent Caulfield?"
Max paused, wracking her brain for a moment. "I think I remember them being mentioned to me… sir."
"Well, I'll jog your memory then." He said, his mustache following his mouth down slightly into a frown. "They are a collection of cold cases, unexplained phenomena, and overall silly B.S that the Bureau couldn't be bothered to throw out. The S in S-Files stands for Strange. Strange Files, you understand?"
Her brow furrowed as she considered this. "Yes Sir, but what does that have to do with me? I'm not aware of anyone currently working any cases like that."
The Assistant Director sighed and leaned back in his chair. "No, I thought not. There is one Agent currently assigned to the S-Files, though for reasons you'll understand shortly we haven't made a big hubbub about her findings."
He rubbed his forehead in apparent frustration before continuing. "That Agent is Chloe Price. She started at the Bureau shortly before you, a real Rising Star around here, along with her partner. The two of them cracked some big cases, did some real good work for a long time. But a year ago that all changed. Agent Rachel Amber, Agent Price's partner, disappeared during an investigation in Oregon. She's officially MIA but… it's been a year, the MIA is only still in effect on Agent Price's insistence."
Max nodded. "So Price hasn't given up on her yet?"
He sighed. "No, and here's where it gets complicated. When questioned about Agent Amber's disappearance, Agent Price consistently has claimed it was some kind of… supernatural force that they were investigating that had taken her."
"Supernatural? How so?" Max asked, leaning forward now.
"I'd rather not get into it, besides, you'll get a chance to ask her yourself." He smiled wryly.
"Pardon?" Max's eyes widened.
"That's right, you're Agent Price's new partner, effective immediately you are being reassigned to the S-Files." He said, watching for her reaction.
Max narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brow. "But… why sir? Is the Bureau unsatisfied with my recent work?"
He shook his head. "On the contrary, Caulfield, I've found it exemplary myself. Frankly, the one they're not happy with is Agent Price, she's very close to losing her job if she keeps up the way she is. Her work with the S-Files has resulted only in inconclusive reports purporting wild theories with little or no evidence. Your assignment with Price will be threefold. You are to take over the writing of S-Files case reports, you are to assist with Agent Price's investigations, and you are to attempt to debunk or bring down to Earth Agent Price's theories whenever possible."
"But why sir? If she's lost it a little, which it sounds like she has, isn't it for the best that she's let go?" She stalled for time as she tried to think of a way to get out of the order.
He sighed and spun his chair around, looking out at the bright day, and casting a long shadow over Max's seat. "You see Agent Caulfield, I've worked with Price on a few cases, and she truly is a brilliant Agent. She has such a keen mind for solving problems, I suspect she'll surprise even you, 'SuperMax.'"
She frowned and sat a little taller in her chair. "Sir. I am not a fan of that nickname."
He turned his chair sideways enough to glance at her, after taking in her more serious body language he shrugged and turned back. "Hm, alright. In any case, I, and some other powers that be, don't want her terminated, and this seems like the best solution to get her back on track. You're a trusted Agent, Caulfield, we'll take your word for Price's mental state and capabilities."
She kept her position for a second, holding Madsen's gaze before dropping it and slumping in her chair slightly. "Alright sir." She sighed. "Where can I find this Agent Price?"
The mustachioed man suddenly beamed at her. "Very good Maxine! I suspect you'll enjoy yourself with this assignment much more than you're expecting."
He stood up and walked to the door, prompting her to rise and follow him. "The S-Files office number is B04, you should be able to find your way there."
She stood outside his office and looked at him momentarily before comprehending what he said. "Wait. The basement? You're actually reassigning me to a basement offi-"
"I look forward to your reports Agent Caulfield!" He spoke over her as he closed the door.
Max worked her mouth up and down a few times, then gritted her teeth as she considered the wisdom in bursting back into his office. Whatever. She thought. It doesn't seem quite right to be upset at him for this, it sounds like he's had me in mind to do this for a while, may be a chance to get in his good books. She sighed and gave a small wave to Secretary Ward, and left to pack up her office.
Click
Not bad. A shot of her pile of boxes sitting on her desk, filled with various files, stationary, reference books, and other personal belongings. Max had always liked midday lighting. She sighed and plopped onto her chair one last time. At least this chair could be set low enough to rest her feet on the floor. She liked this office, it reminded her of the first office she'd ever worked in, back on the west coast. Smiling, she thought about all the friends she'd left behind there. Warren had always pined after her, but he was her closest friend back home, and he wasn't a bad person, just… awkward. When she explained her intentions on quitting journalism to him he was quite aghast. He didn't understand, and probably never would.
Max shook herself out of her reverie and stood back up, taking one last look around. Nodding to herself, she took her camera off of her desk and put the lanyard loop around her neck, took her boxes, and made for the elevator.
Ding
The elevator ground to a halt as it reached the basement level, and the doors slowly opened. Max peered into the dark hallway a little nervously. Wide-eyed, she started to make her way to the fourth room down. You'd think in a basement they'd make the lighting more of a focus than upstairs. Shrugging, she squinted as she tried to make out the room numbers.
B01, B03… ah it'll be behind me. She turned around and, in the process, nearly collided with a woman coming out of B04.
"Hey, watch it!" A voice, deep but still feminine, reprimanded her as she narrowly avoided dropping her boxes on the floor.
Max stumbled a bit while she tried to keep her footing and grip on her boxes. "I-I'm sorry!" She finally looked up at the person she had nearly run into, her eyes now having adjusted slightly to the dim lighting.
Ho-ly shit. That was all Max could think, her mouth hanging open as she looked at the other woman. She was gorgeous. And not in the way that you'd expect a woman at the FBI to look gorgeous, this lady looked more along the lines of "high school drug dealer I had a crush on" gorgeous. Her hair was dyed a bright blue, not quite common for the FBI, and her plaid dress shirt that's sleeves had been carelessly bunched up just below her shoulders revealed a large tattoo that wound it's way down her right arm.
Realizing she had been staring, Max closed her mouth and tried to regain a bit of control over the situation. "Uh, h-hi!" She squeaked, a blush making it's warmth felt on her face as she in no way gained any control at all.
The blue haired agent responded. "Uh, hey?" Oh God. That voice just made her melt. Why am I so gay? She thought despairingly.
"I-I'm Agent Maxine Caulfield!" She winced as she heard her voice much louder in the quiet basement than she'd intended it. As the other woman smirked at her she suddenly was very thankful for the boxes in her sore arms. She didn't want the other agent to know how sweaty her palms were.
The taller agent's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh! That makes more sense. Here, I was just heading out but I can stay to help you get settled." She moved to grab the boxes from Max's hands. "Let me just help you with those."
Max handed them off and looked on in slight awe as the other agent easily carried her belongings that she had struggled to heave through the rest of the building to the emptier of two desks in the room beyond. She's… ripped. Max quickly set the thought aside before it dominated her thinking. I'm being so unprofessional. Shape up Max! The brunette agent surreptitiously wiped her hands on her pants and entered room B04.
"I guess Madsen probably already gave you the briefing, but I'm Chloe Price, currently assigned to the S-Files." She finished setting down Max's boxes and turned around, grinning. "And you're my new partner!"
Max smiled back as naturally as she could. "Y-Yeah, I guess so." She looked around the office. It was cluttered, but less in an academic way, and more in a homey way. The clutter was eclectic too, on the desk that commanded the room it was mostly papers, but on the walls and various shelves throughout were maps, reports, huge file folders, strange diagrams, something that looked like a picture of an autopsy, and many trophies for various contests and tournaments fighting for space on top of the room's many filing cabinets. On the wall behind the main desk there was also what looked to be a custom printed poster. It looked like a picture of a thick grove in an old growth forest. In the center of the grove and, consequently, the poster, there was a small ring of mushrooms that Max recognized as what people called a fairy circle. On the bottom of the poster in block white lettering was the phrase "Belief is Truth."
She tore her gaze away from the room's décor and looked back at Agent Price. "So what type of work do you… actually do with the S-Files?" She asked. The tattooed agent looked thoughtful for a second before responding.
"I mean, the same work anyone in the FBI does right? I keep an eye out and an ear to the ground for reports relevant to the content of the S-Files, and when there's nothing I mess around with cold cases." She smiled a little wryly at Max. "Only difference is, the content of the S-Files isn't always stuff that less open-minded agents would take seriously." Max nodded slowly and kept looking at punk looking agent, who sighed.
"You're wondering what's with the dyed hair and the arm tattoo, right?" Caught, Max looked away and coughed awkwardly.
"Uh, the thought had crossed my mind, yeah. It's not exactly protocol." Chloe smiled and shook her head, then made her way towards Max while pulling up her sleeve.
"My last partner and I were part of a bit of a deep cover op on the West coast. Biker gang that had been getting more into drug trafficking than most do, no local cops were willing to try and earn their trust so they asked the FBI." She sighed and looked away, reminiscing. "I've got my motorcycle license, plus job experience in a mechanic's shop, so I was a natural choice. Plus at the time me and my partner were a package deal so..." She sighed, and tried to shake her head clear of thoughts of her missing partner. "Anyway, we needed to look the part, so the bureau paid for this sweet-ass tattoo, and covered the cost for the hair dye. They don't cover it anymore, but I'm kinda fond of the look, so I got permission to keep it up."
Max examined the tattoo, it really was gorgeous. A red ribbon traced it's way around and through a bushel of leaves and flowers that were just starting to bud. Blue butterflies flitted around the tops of the plants, while brown roots dangled from the bottom. Nestled in the center of the piece was a yellowed, aging human skull, a morbid, leering grin among the natural beauty of the rest of the piece. Inadvertently, Max found herself touching the tattoo slightly along the curve of the toned agent's muscles. She suddenly felt the warmth of Agent Price's skin very, very acutely. She jumped back and looked up at the taller agent apologetically.
"Hey, hey, it's okay Caulfield, I get it." She said. Her delicate eyebrows were raised in amusement though, and her mouth was once again in the shape of that damn smirk. God… that expression is going to be the death of me. Max despaired once more.
"Right! Yeah… sorry." She said as she blushed made herself busy unpacking her office supplies. Chloe suddenly jumped as her gaze happened to land on the clock.
"Oh shit! I'm gonna be late!" She quickly gathered up the backpack that she had had on when she first ran into Max. "Make yourself at home, I'm done for the day, so we'll get started tomorrow morning, sound good Caulfield?"
"Yeah, of course! And, uh, j-just Max, please. Unless we're with, y'know, Madsen or some-… something." She just managed to get a reply out before Chloe reached the door, on hearing Max's request though she stopped and looked back over her shoulder.
"And you can just call me Chloe, I'm not big into the whole formality thing. Later Max." She gave a small wave and left, letting the door swing closed beyond her. Max sighed, releasing the tension that she'd been unconsciously holding in her shoulders. This partnership could prove… difficult for her.
Well. I better unpack. She thought, and got to it.
Max sipped on her light brown coffee. Three milk, three sugar, she'd never been one for bitterness. She sighed. I probably should've asked Agent Pr- Chloe when exactly morning was for her. The brunette let out another sigh and pulled out her phone, pulling up a sudoku app to pass the time. Seven medium difficulty sudoku puzzles later, she closed the app in frustration. I guess she's used to keeping her own hours, being the only person working this desk. Didn't stop it from frustrating the hell out of Max though. Struck by a sudden impulse, she pulled up her phone's browser, and then opened Google.
"Rachel Amber FBI." The search results showed a few articles about noteworthy cases that her and Chloe had been relevant on, and an article about the press conference where her disappearance was revealed three months after it happened. She tapped on that, curious what was revealed. It turned out to be very, very little. She scrolled down and stopped at a random point and started reading again. "The Arcadia Bay native had moved to the East coast to-" She stopped reading, her eyes wide. Arcadia Bay? There was no way…
Sure enough, a few minutes later she sat looking at the top of the list of members of her high school year's graduating class. Fourth from the top, "Rachel Amber," eight names afterwards, "Maxine Caulfield." She leaned back in her chair and exhaled. What an incredibly odd coincidence. She looked closer at some of the pictures that her google search had wrought. She didn't recognize her, which was... surprising. Even if she had convinced herself for most of her life that she was straight, it didn't stop her from paying very close attention to other women. Plus she didn't have a particularly large graduating class... Weird. She thought, then locked and pocketed her phone and took another sip of her coffee.
The better part of an hour later, Max was jolted awake from the light nap she had fallen into by a thump and a muffled "Ow! Fuck!" from outside the office's door. She heard keys being fumbled with and worked out what was going on.
"It's unlocked!" Max spoke up, immediately sound outside the door ceased.
Max strained her ears a little nervously before the silence was broken by the agent on the other side. "Oh, right!" And with that Chloe barged in. "Morning Cau- Max." It quickly became apparent what had been causing her difficulty. She carried two large pairs of thick treaded rain boots in her arms.
Having resolved to keep her cool today, Max just leaned back in her chair. "Morning, Chloe." She casually took a sip of her now cold coffee. Ew. Hearing her tone, the blue haired agent shot her a look of confusion and- was that worry?
"I, uh, hope you weren't waiting too long, right?" Max looked at the clock, now showing 11:49 AM, and then back to Chloe.
"At the drugs desk we got in at nine AM sharp." She let her flat tone imply the rest of her thoughts on Chloe's tardiness.
The her credit, Chloe laughed sheepishly and tried to take it in stride. "Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore, right?" She looked up at Max apologetically.
Those eyes… The brunette agent blushed and looked away, a smile coming to her face unannounced. "N-No, I guess not." She shook her head clear. "So, what's the plan today? And what's with those boots?"
Chloe grinned at the shorter woman. "I've got these boots because we are going to Louisiana!" Max stared at her for a few quiet moments. And then a few more. The smile on Chloe's face became strained.
"Why, exactly, are we going to Louisiana?" Max asked, thinking about the massage therapy that she had booked two days from then.
That seemed to fire Chloe up again, now determined to prove it was worth going, she dumped the boots onto the floor beside her desk and quickly unslung a laptop bag from around her shoulder. She pulled a sleek looking laptop from the bag and set it on her desk. She reached around it in a practiced movement and snatched an HDMI cord that came down from the ceiling and connected it to the computer. Turning on the projector with a remote. She logged in, and as the desktop loaded Max regarded her background picture.
It looked like her graduating FBI training class from Quantico. After a moment Max recognized Chloe, tattooless and blonde haired, standing near the front center. In the front center was Rachel Amber. Max glanced at Chloe who simply sat, lost in thought in front of the machine.
"Chloe?" Max prompted. The taller agent gave a start and looked down.
"Sorry… just thinking about… you know, neverm-" Max cut her off.
"I'm so sorry about Agent Amber, Chloe." Max said impulsively. She immediately regretted her decision as Chloe's expression hardened. The tattooed agent looked at Max, her steely blue eyes piercing into her.
"Did Madsen already give you the official stance on Rachel?" Chloe asked, her deep voice infused with a forced evenness.
Max nodded once, startled by Chloe's sudden intensity. The blue haired agent suddenly got up and stalked over to the side of her desk that Max was sitting near and leaned back on it. Now much closer, she held Max's gaze with a frightening intensity.
"If we're going to be partners, I need you to understand something."Max nodded, wide eyed. "I'm not interested in denial, or delusions, or lies or fantasies. I only want the truth. That's why I asked to be assigned to the S-Files. And I need you to believe that I'm not crazy when I say these things. I have some ideas that a lot of people here think are outlandish, to put it mildly. But even if you disagree with me totally, I need you to understand that I'm coming from a place of rationality based on my experiences." She sighed suddenly, her shoulders drooped, and the fire in her eyes dimmed as if all the oxygen in the room had been used up by their burning.
"Rachel is still alive Max. I don't know where, I'm not entirely sure who took her, but I know she isn't dead." Max nodded, she… kind of understood actually.
"It would just be… hard to go on if I have you behind me rolling your eyes every five minutes." Max started to nod again, but Chloe's voice rang out. "Don't just nod again, please say something." The taller woman looked almost like she was curled up as she leaned over, her eyes averted from Max's face. Her expression looked nervous, even vulnerable.
Max stayed quiet for a moment as she considered how to phrase her response.
"I believe you Chloe." She began. "I can't guarantee I'll always agree with your conclusions but… no matter how 'outlandish' I promise I'll consider them seriously." She paused again, scrunching her brow as she made her decision. "And… I believe you that Rachel is still alive. You were there, you were her partner, you know her strengths better than anyone. And I think eventually, you'll find her." She paused one last time. "And… if it's in my power, I'll do whatever I can to help make that happen."
She looked up to gauge Chloe's reaction. Chloe had a large, genuine smile gracing her face, it radiated thankfulness and relief. Oh my God… dimples… Max looked away, suddenly very self-conscious of her earnest proclamation. I do really mean it, I just… I really hope that Rachel is actually still alive… I don't want to impede Chloe from moving on.
"Thank you." The words were quiet, they came from the lowest part of Chloe's vocal register, and they rang in earnestness.
A few minutes later, the pictures Chloe wanted to show Max had been set up. Max noted as she watched the screen impassively that they were located in a folder dropped on Chloe's desktop (one of… many) simply titled "swamp…. sutff."
The series of pictures inside was noteably more mature than the misspelled name implied. Clicking through at a fair clip, Chloe started to explain.
"I've been interested in these incidents for a while now, long enough that I've got some contacts in the town that keep me updated." She stopped at one particularly gruesome photo of a man who's torso looked… shredded, essentially. Max paled slightly, but kept looking. There was something odd about the crime scene.
"You see it too, huh?" Chloe grinned at her and clicked on to the next picture. In this shot, it was clear that the crime scene was on the second floor of an observation post of some kind, the floor was only accessible via ladder.
"Officially ruled as an alligator attack. And I don't know about you, but I haven't seen many alligators able to shimmy their way up a ladder." Max's eyes narrowed as she examined the photo.
"Was he a hunter? Maybe a kill he thought was dead wasn't? Or did he maybe have a pet gator he could've brought up there that went berserk for some reason?" Max asked, trying to get a logical angle on the death.
"Nope, he was a maintenance worker for the Coast Guard." Chloe said. Max sighed.
"You said there's been other incidents?" Chloe nodded and started clicking further through the slideshow. Max would grow used to these briefings eventually, but this time her eyes grew wider and wider as she saw death after death that defied explanation. Some were also on a largely inaccessible second story, some were behind unbroken doors, some were both. Yet all shared the same M.O, the chest completely shredded and partially consumed.
"These incidents date back to 2000, the first was actually on New Year's Day of that year." Chloe said.
"The turn of the millennium…" Max muttered, trying to piece things together.
Chloe smiled at her clear interest. "So! More interested in hopping down to Louisiana with little old me now?" Her smile turned into a cheeky grin as Max sighed.
"Let me just call my massage therapist."
The plane shook and bumped in the turbulent, stormy air over North Carolina. Max's hands ached from the white knuckle grip she had been maintaining on the handrests since they had entered the stormy weather. Max glanced to her left. In the window seat beside her Chloe sat with her knees up on the back of the seat in front of her, her body curled low in the chair, obliviously playing some mobile game.
Feeling Max's gaze, Chloe glanced up at her. Max blanched as she unintentionally imagined how it would feel to have her head at such a weird angle in the turbulence.
"You doing okay Max?" Chloe asked, pausing her game and wiggling up out of her slouch.
"I don't do well with storms." Max replied flatly, staring intently at the headrest directly in front of her.
Chloe nodded sagely and squinted as if trying to remember the details of something. "My partner- my last partner also had issues with storms. I think she said there was a really terrible freak storm around her hometown when she was a kid. I always meant to look into it more but…" She looked away suddenly, almost guiltily, before continuing. "Anyway, her house and the one next door were totaled. Her mom didn't make it, was never able to deal with storms since then." The blue haired agent looked up at her partner.
Max's eyes were wide with shock, and tears were threatening to crash over the dam of her eyes to flood the rest of her face.
"I'm…. gonnathrowupgottagotothebathroom" She managed to choke out, all in one breath, before forcing herself up and stumbling to the rear of the plane.
What the fuck? What the fuck? Max's thoughts were a blur as she splashed cold water on her face and tried not to think about the wind twisting and pulling around them.
What were the odds? Not only were her and Agent Amber from the same hometown but…
No, she didn't have to think about that. She'd been doing so well. She tried the deep breathing exercises that her therapist had taught her in the years after the incident, but her breath kept catching in her throat. She sunk to her knees and leaned her forehead against the plastic sink and desperately kept trying to calm down. Outside, she noticed on the bare edges of her consciousness, she heard annoyed voices and grumbles, and then… Chloe's voice?
"Sorry about this, my bad, ya, no, my partner's in there. No, not my wife, we're FBI I- ugh, never mind, just move." Then a couple light knocks at the door.
"Max, you okay in there?" Max sighed and hefted herself to her feet.
"I-I'll be fine, Chloe." She turned the taps on again and splashed her face one last time before turning to open the door, revealing Chloe's worried face.
"Look I'm so, so sorry, I should've realised that that maybe wasn't the best story to tell someone who's afraid of storms, uh, here I can help you back to your seat." She reached out and grabbed Max's hand. Nodding mutely, Max did her best to settle her stomach, keeping her head down and trusting Chloe's lead.
When they got back to their seats, Chloe draped her leather jacket over the shivering Max, less queasy from the flight now, and more simply terrified of the weather.
"Hey Max… I uh, shouldn't be sharing these, probably, but I have some pretty strong sleeping pills that were prescribed to me. I could, uh, lend them to you, or something, if that would help… I'm sorry, again." Max thought for a moment, then turned and gave Chloe a small smile and nodded.
"Thanks Chloe." The taller agent's whole demeanor seemed to brighten, and she quickly turned to dig through her carry-on knapsack.
A few minutes later, Max had taken the pair of large white pills, and had fallen into a thankfully dreamless sleep.