A/N: Rated for language and some violence.
"The Recruit"
by: the archduke
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
He was tired. Traveling for over thirty hours with minimal sleep did that to a person. He should have been used to it by now. The constant moving and irregular hours had been a part of his life for so long that he didn't really remember any other way. He should have been asleep, catching up on all the missed hours so that he would be ready for the next day. Plans had been made and it seemed that the next week had been scheduled down to the minute. But here he was, suffering from jet lag that caused him to be up at three in the morning, wandering around the living room, tired but wide awake.
Not wanting to disturb those people who had been able to fall asleep, he left the overhead lights off, thinking that the table lamp would be enough. But he couldn't figure out how the damn thing turned on, and after ten minutes of fumbling with it in the dark, he gave up and pulled out the tiny pen light he kept on his keychain. With it's weak illumination, the living room transformed from the whimsical living space it had been in the daylight into a sort of house of horrors. Giant robots, randomly blinking lights, the occasional squeak or hum coming from different parts of the room all combined with the otherwise silent night to give him goosebumps. He must have been really tired for his mind to go into such a ridiculous direction.
Abandoning the living room, he made his way to the breakfast bar. He lifted the objects lying on the countertop, examining first the textbook open to a page filled with equations. Pre-calculus. Then he picked up the tiny box that he had been shown earlier, once again marveling at the tiny latches and springs that held it together. He was so proud of them both.
Looking at the clock and doing some mental calculations, he realized that he was probably still awake because this was the time he had eaten lunch for the past three months. Maybe a quick bite would settle him and allow his body to relax so he could finally get some sleep.
He was just opening the refrigerator door when he heard it. There was a slight scraping sound coming from the direction of the front door. He had gotten the refrigerator door closed when there was a slight click and then the knob was turning. Someone was opening the door, and all the people who had permission to open that door in the middle of the night were currently inside. Instinct took over and he crouched down and out of sight behind the bar. His heart was thumping and he was no longer tired.
Gathering his training, he let his mind go into that clinical mode that was so important when he did his job. He sharpened his hearing, listening to footsteps and trying to determine in which direction they were going. He heard the door close, three soft steps, a rustling, then silence. He waited, counting the seconds in his head. He got to thirty seconds and there was still silence. Whoever had broken in was good, a professional, and he cursed himself for losing track of the intruder. They could be anywhere, doing anything, and he was sitting and hiding like a coward.
He tensed his muscles, readying himself to slowly make his way around the left side of the bar so he would have a view of the living room and front door. He was hoping that the intruder hadn't left the living room area, thinking that there would be some valuables among all the knick knacks and brick a brack.
He edged his head around the bar when his face exploded in pain. He lifted his hands to clutch at his nose, where all the pain was concentrated. But before he could even get them to shoulder level he felt hands at his collar, presumably the same hands that had broken in and punched him in the face. He was jerked up and off balance from his crouch, and then he felt his body flying through the air, tumbling head over feet. He landed on his back, too disorientated to know his exact location. His arm was then twisted in a way that forced him onto his stomach, his tendons and muscles and bones straining against the unnatural way his arm was being pulled.
He felt a surprisingly small shoe against his face, and he must have made some unconscious noise because a low voice said, "Shut the hell up, fudge nugget, or I'll snap your arm clean off." He became perfectly still even though the pressure was causing hot pain to travel all along his arm. This had all happened in a matter of seconds.
There was yelling, the intruder was calling for Spencer and telling him to call the police, but how did this professional criminal know Spencer? His nose was throbbing and his arm was on fire and he couldn't think straight, which was the most upsetting. He was trained to maintain his wits in any situation, but his mind was racing and sluggish and Jesus, his arm was killing him!
Then he heard Spencer's voice, sleepy and confused, but he couldn't make out his exact words. The overhead lights came on, and Spencer's voice became clear.
"Sam, let him go! That's my dad!"
Immediately, the shoe was taken off his face and his arm released. He groaned in relief, the burning lessening, but he would definitely feel the pain for a few days. Spencer was by him now, asking if he was okay, and helping him to turn over onto his back. He felt wetness on his upper lip and realized that his nose was bleeding. He let Spencer prop him up against the coffee table. He had been thrown halfway across the living room.
He blinked his eyes a few times and when they came into focus, he saw the intruder. A slip of a girl, smaller than his own daughter, with golden curls and wide eyes stood before him. He saw her swallow and her face turned bright red.
"Hello, Sam. It's been awhile," he croaked. What else could he possibly say? This was maybe the most embarrassing moment of his entire life.
Sam opened her mouth and a breathy expletive escaped. Then she was gone.
A/N 2: Sam performed a jujitsu throw on Mr. Shay. I had to think back to when I was taking jujitsu (I had a colored belt!) and I think it's pretty accurate - though I did keep it vague to be on the safe side. It's been a few years. The twisting arm thing definitely hurts. This will be a multi-chapter, so there will be more coming up.