A/N: Wow, okay, I procrastinated on my homework (whoops!) more than I thought I would and here's Chapter 10. If things feel a bit confusing (Sarah's job, the mission), I promise to clear things up in future chapters.
"Mark!" she says, recognizing him as a colleague of Nicholas's. The skirt of her dress spins around her knees as she swivels to face him.
"Yeah! Hey, I was afraid you didn't remember me!"
"No, of course I do, I was . . . a little distracted, that's all." She turns to Chuck and Amy. "We were just going –"
"Just finished up a business meeting," Chuck jumps in, offering his hand to Mark. "Charles Carmichael," he says.
"No way!" Mark says ecstatically, wringing Chuck's hand. "The Charles Carmichael? Of Stolen Weekend Games?"
Chuck tilts his head, squinting against the surprisingly bright October sun. It's well into the evening now, and the sun is low enough on the horizon to be in his direct eye line.
Amy smiles. "That's the one."
Mark, still grinning like a fool, hasn't let go of Chuck's hand. "I'm so honored. Hey! How are the new games coming?" He finally drops the handshake, but only to slap his forehead. "Oh! I'm Mark Bergman, by the way. I work with Nick."
Chuck looks at him blankly.
"The guy Rachel's been seeing?"
Chuck straightens his shoulders, and Sarah can't help noticing how nicely the suit fits him, how nicely the green shirt goes with his brown eyes. God! Even now, two minutes after she almost blew her cover, she's still completely focused on Chuck. "I wouldn't know," he says, only the slightest hint of anger behind his tone. Either his acting's improved or he's channeling his pain into his performance. With a pang, she recognizes that it's the latter. "It was just a business meeting," he continues. "We didn't talk about personal matters."
Mark, who can't seem to shake that idiot grin off his face, nods but says, "Wait, I thought Nick said you were in political science and foreign policy, Rachel, our kind of stuff."
Amy shifts on her feet, clearly confused. Sarah ignores her, though, and her mind starts working furiously. "I am," she stammers, trying to formulate an excuse for a young 20-something who's interested in politics and international relations to be having a business meeting with a video game developer.
"Do you know anything about video games?" Chuck asks, and Sarah stares daggers at him. The question is so random that she's certain Mark will see it for the red flag that it is.
He smiles confidently again, "I like to think I know a little about everything."
"Well," Chuck responds, "We use a technique called motion capture for the graphics of our role-playing games. So for the characters you see in the game, for the characters you utilize as a player, we have stunt people, martial arts experts, and the like, come in. They get hooked up to all sorts of wires attached to computers, and they do all the motions you see. Then the computers record those motions, and we can put them in the game." Mark starts to open his mouth, but Chuck cuts him off. "I know, we usually don't meet one-on-one with people. But Amy here," he puts an arm around her shoulders, "is friends with Rachel, knew her from back home, you see, and it turns out that Miss Meadows is quite the martial arts expert on the side. And Amy insisted that we use her in our next game."
Chuck stops speaking, and he's greeted with stares from all three of the people surrounding him. Sarah's shocked that he could spin such a tale so quickly and so easily, and all to protect her cover, to protect her. She feels her heart lift as she realizes that he's not entirely unreachable. If he could do something like this for her, he must be able to forgive her eventually. All she needs to do is show him that she's worthy of being forgiven.
Sarah recovers first, shooting Mark what she hopes is a convincing smile. Amy looks slightly sick to her stomach, like she wants the ground to swallow her.
"Well, hey! That's great, Rachel!" Mark says excitedly. "I'm just about to meet Nick for a drink. Why don't you join us? We can celebrate!"
Sarah quickly shakes her head. She's finally starting to feel comfortable again, realizing her job requires all her concentration. "No, Amy and I were going to spend tonight catching up." She puts a hand on Amy's arm and gives her a friendly smile, hoping the young woman will be astute enough to play along. She smiles winningly at Mark. "But tell Nick that I'll see him tomorrow night, okay?"
"Sure. I'll see you around, okay?" Mark asks.
She nods, and he walks down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Before she can breathe a sigh of relief, though, he turns and jogs back to her.
"Hey, I almost forgot to mention it. Has Nick said anything about the ambassador's dinner coming up in a few weeks?"
She shakes her head, but her interest is immediately piqued. An opportunity like this is just what she's waited for. At a dinner party, she'd have ample opportunity to study people, learn their motives, see if any underhand deals are being dealt.
"Oh, shoot. Okay, well, forget I said anything about it. But he'll probably ask you about it tomorrow. Just, keep your schedule clear, all right?"
She nods again, and he smiles widely, turning back down the street. Sarah watches his retreating form closely, her mind frantically searching for a way out of the quandary she's found herself in.
"What," Amy says, her voice low and deadly, "the hell was that?"
Chuck looks at her, his animation suddenly gone, and tries to calm her. "Amy, please, you won't understand, and it's better if you don't ask any questions."
She turns in a rage to Sarah. "Who are you really? Are you Sarah? Or are you Rachel? And you!" she exclaims, turning back to her boss. "How long have you been in on it? This whole time I've trusted you!" Though obviously angry and confused, she immediately looks as if she regrets her words, maybe thinking she'll lose her job for them.
Chuck, regarding her sadly, reaches for her arms. "Calm down, Amy. Let's go someplace where we can talk."