Author's Note: I'd just to like give a quick reply to all those who reviewed and showed supported for this fiction. But I know the best way to compensate readers would be releasing another chapter, so without delay, here you go =)
CHAPTER FOUR
"Charlie where did you learn all this stuff about assassination?"
Charlie gave a weak smile. "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you."
Amita laughed. "Seriously."
His smiled died. "Seriously."
. : - : .
One of the convenient things about going to England and when he moved in with Susan had been being able to slip away easier. Susan had her work and research and Charlie had his work and research and his consulting that he never mentioned to her. Charlie would leave sometimes for days, weeks, and in the days nearing the end of their relationship, months, telling her he was going to an academic conference, giving presentations and consultations, leaving her names and numbers of other scientists who were going to be there with him. When called the other civilian consultants would answer and give carefully worded speeches about the conference, always better than Charlie could. It became easier to fend off his mother about monitoring his life, as she gave the new couple space to have time alone, and it felt nice, to not have to lie to his mother as often. Susan hadn't known how rarely Charlie taken those sabbaticals, to her they had always been a part of his routine, so when the number increased exponentially in a year she didn't notice except to remark that his career was really taking off. And it was, if you counted the doctorates the government awarded him for the work he achieved. It was also easier to hide from Susan because her own career started taking off and she was often busy and out of the house on research trips of her own.
Eventually the strain got too much, too many stressful events coinciding, by the time Charlie walked away from his Operative status to try and save the relationship, it was too late. Moving back home with his parents were therapeutic, something that he had really needed, even if his parents hadn't know. The life of a regular civilian was shocking and disconcerting after life in the field, but he had been so raw and vulnerable, being with his family was a balm to his soul. His parents marked his behavior off as having his relationship with Susan not working out, and he never corrected them. He couldn't, so he let them make their assumptions and just held on to them with everything he had.
He didn't go to a psychiatrist, couldn't, not with what he had seen and done, he would be breaking national security. He also couldn't go the military provided one, because he couldn't explain that to his parents. He was finally getting better, stabilizing, accepting there were some things you couldn't change and some things you just had to forget, when his mom fell sick; diagnosed with cancer. Incurable. It broke him all over again, that death could touch those he loved in the normal life just as easily as it did in the field. No matter where he went, he couldn't save them.
Don came home but it was too late. Charlie had waited for Don to save him from things; bullies, fire, bullets, fear, despair; for years now but he hadn't ever come. When Don finally came back from Albuquerque, Charlie had stopped expecting him to.
. : - : .
"Announcement from the higher ups." Krythan said when asked what her meeting had been about.
Vahn stared at her collar. "You got promoted, a Major now."
Krythan smiled. "Knew you'd notice right away."
"That's great!" Charlie congratulated.
"Yeah it was a surprise." The new Major told them fingering the stripes, "But that wasn't what I went to talk to them about." She reached into her coat pocket and withdrew something, reaching for Charlie's hand she placed the pin in his hand. "You're an operative now."
Charlie's face drained of all blood. "No, no. No, I'm, not I'm not. I'm, I'm just a consultant."
"Yes." Krythan confirmed calmly in the face of his panic. "You're a civilian consultant. But now you're certified to be part of the Frynd-Sign company instead of attaché. You're truly one of us now, no one can bother you about that."
"But, but."
Vahn gripped the young man's shoulder in comfort, "You'll always be a civilian consultant. You're operative status will be secondary, we'll make sure it gets buried somewhere in your file. You won't ever have to be an Operative. It only means, to others, that you are truly ours now."
"Everything will be alright baby boy, nothing is going to change." Krythan said. "But you said you wanted to come with us on missions, to be there on site for data. This will allow you to do that."
Charlie breathed out, "Alright. Alright."
. : - : .
Except things did change. Charlie left the base now sometimes to go with the team on missions. He would fly from and to home more often, taking sabbaticals from his research but still earning a doctorate a year, but unable to tell others why and what project he earned it on. He earned honorary degrees in biochemistry, genetics, organic chemistry, human biology; collaborated many papers with the other scientists. Larry would often rave about how Charlie found time to be part of all these breakthroughs, when Charlie had to hold his tongue and not tell Larry how the discoveries came at the cost of human lives, human lives that they had sent out into the combat zone never to be seen again, or watching the people they ate dinner with just the other night dying in the infirmary because of a biochemical warfare weapon you helped decode but not in time to save everyone.
The gun was a constant weight on his body but Charlie had never fired a shot, never ejected a bullet from the barrel outside of a shooting range. Until the time came when he had no choice.
. : - : .
James was bleeding, but so was Greg. Krythan was all scratched up and Vahn was streaked with dirt. This wasn't the first time the team was in these conditions from a mission but this time there was no mission, and this was on their home turf. Someone had infiltrated the base's security and had opened the way for enemy troops. There were gunshots and screams and people Charlie knew were bleeding to death in front of him when the infirmary was only three levels down.
"Keep the pressure on that wound Charlie!" Krythan shouted at him and he pushed, pushing down on James' sides and the soldier hissed in pain.
Blood, red and staining were spreading over his hands and Charlie was shaking. "You're going to be okay, you're going to be okay." He kept blabbering.
"Your new doctorate just happens to be medicine?" James joked weakly.
"Not funny Iverson." Greg said sharply when he saw from the side that the comment had upset Charlie even more. The soldier fired more shots at the enemies with the other before ducking down behind the upturned tables and pillars, then repeating the pattern. "Did we get a signal out for back up?"
"The message was sent but don't know when they'll get here." Victor crawled up to them behind the connected furniture.
Charlie knows that with the constant pressure he's applying James will have another hour before he bleeds out, half an hour if he doesn't. Charlie also knows that if back up doesn't arrive in the next 10 minutes, moving James would become an issue.
A buzz sounded from Krythan's hip radio. "Infirmary is secured." Vahn's calm voice tells them.
"Okay." Krythan nudged the soldier next to her, "you and Victor take James to the infirmary. Most of the hallways should be secure. Greg I need you here with me." Greg nodded from where he was tying a tight double knot on James. "Charlie go with them, you're on point."
Charlie was ashen. "P-point?" He questioned, unable to comprehend the statement.
Victor sent him a sympathetic gaze but refocused on lifting James carefully with the other soldier. There really is not other option, Charlie was not strong enough to carry James to the infirmary and Greg needed to stay to keep the enemies back so that they had the time to get to the infirmary. Someone needed to be point guard watching for stray enemies as they made their way down the halls.
"I can't, I can't do it Krythan." Charlie pleaded.
"Charlie," Krythan said quiet, "you haven't missed the bull's-eye ever since your second week on the shooting range. You can do it: you have a gun on your hip, now you can make the choice to use it not to kill others but to save James. You might not even have to; other teams have gone ahead already. You might not run into an enemy soldier."
Charlie nodded and lead the way, hoping, praying feverishly that Krythan was right.
They weren't that lucky.
. : - : .
The first time Charlie shot a man was also the first time Charlie killed a man. Bull's-eye every time. Krythan had thought him to aim for the head and the heart.
. : - : .
"You aim here and here Charlie." Krythan instructed gesturing to holes forehead and torso of her paper target that she had pulled up for example. "Instant kill. If they come close enough to you for them to be a danger, I don't want them getting up to have a second chance at hurting you."
"They also wouldn't want to be alive when Krythan comes for them." Vahn said quietly behind him.
"Wh-why?" Charlie looked between his two friends nervously.
"I was in the CIA," Krythan told him coolly, "but that's a story for another day."
. : - : .
"I'm being monitored." Charlie spoke into his cell phone, pacing the floor of his bedroom. "There's no way I can lose the bodyguard, and even if I do manage to ditch the federal agent, Don will get notified right away. I can't go with you Greg."
Gregory Williamson stared out the window of the motel room he rented. "Charlie, we need to establish contact with the rest of the team. We need to find x and n."
"I know, I know that," Charlie pressed the heel of his palm over his eyes. "I can tell you where they'll most likely have left messages for me, if they did. You can bring me the data here and I'll work on it."
"No, Charlie this is more serious than that," Greg took a breath; he had hoped it wouldn't come to this. "You need to check in with the team, the team needs to hear from you. You're the Third in Command Charlie."
"No." Charlie whispered, "No, that can't be."
"You remember when the soldiers stopped bothering you? You think that just showing them that you can shoot at a paper target gets their respect?" Greg challenged. "They're military men - and they follow orders. You passed the firearms training, allowing you to be certified as an operative, and Krythan makes you her Third. No one touches you after that, they wouldn't dare."
"But, but that was years ago. And I left the service." Charlie argued.
"It doesn't matter, a technicality. The team knows the chain of command. Krythan and Vahn never retracted your rank. You know how Frynd-Sign works. It didn't matter because in active and field missions when the First and Second commanding officers are indisposed, whoever has the highest rank present will step up. But we're not on an active mission. We need your orders to move out. You need to establish contact Charlie."
When he exhaled, the mathematician's breath was shaking.