A/N1 I said some of this would be experimental. There's been a little of that so far. Psychologist reports, emails, etc. Now there's more of it.

This chapter shifts into Sarah's voice, first-personally. I have tried to capture her studied attempts to 'depersonalize' her own inner life, and the limited success she has at doing that.

Don't own Chuck.

The (Mis)Education of Sarah Walker

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Girls Will Be Girls (Part Four)

Snake's Blood

And I'm taking up serpents again
And I'm speaking in tongues unknown to men
I thought the cracks through that heart were finally on the mend
But I'm taking up serpents again
- Curtis Eller's American Circus, Taking Up Serpents Again

I was silent on the cab ride home. Amy was leaning on me. I didn't know what to do for her. Her pain was too real. Too close to pain of my own. Different cause, maybe; but the same job. Compromises. I had never had to fight my way out of the dark intent of a mark's embrace, and maybe Amy had pushed too fast, too hard, trying to impress me - me and Carina and Zondra. Maybe she let things go too far on the dance floor, said her pretended yes too emphatically. Seductions done right require never letting the mark be sure, sure of you. But this was not her fault. It was the job's fault. Ricky's fault.

I called Graham. He was unhappy with the results of the evening. He did not blame me - but I did. He dispatched a team to the hotel, to check their records and their videotape, and to check the room again. Maybe something about Ricky could be gleaned that way. I was doubtful, but that was the right call. Graham told me to tell Carina to get back to work with her Miami DEA contacts, to see if we could find another strategy for finding out about this group. If Ricky was representative, then they were bad news. Careful, smart, brutal. Before I could suggest anything more, Graham told me that he had a mission for me.

Malaysia. A CIA agent, an important one, had been taken in Malaysia, somewhere outside Penang. He was being held hostage by a gangster who enjoyed governmental protections, and so diplomatic solutions were off the table. A murky situation and very dangerous. The agent was being held in a mountain estate, limited ingress, limited egress. A bottleneck crammed with heavily armed guards. A small private army.

I was to go and get him out. It was crucial that it be done secretly. I had to get him in and out without creating any kind of incident. Quick, quiet, no mess.

At least it was not the sort of mission I expected when he started telling me about it. As he briefed me, it became clear that it was a mission that would work best with two agents, not just one. I had undertaken missions like that before and survived them, but I had just gotten to Miami, just become part of a team. The team made me uncomfortable, but I did not want to leave and then come back and start over.

I asked him if another agent from the team could be partnered with me for the mission. Carina had work to do in Miami to find another lead. Amy needed time to recover. So...

"I'd like to have Zondra go with me, if possible."

Graham was silent. He had not expected that request. We were nearly even; I had not expected to make it. But I had worked alone for so long - since Leipzig. And although it felt strange, and although I would not have admitted it aloud, certainly not to Graham, I trusted Zondra.

I filled the silence. "It's really a two-agent op, sir. One to go inside and make the extraction, another to oversee the extraction from the outside, to make sure...that I can get the agent from the scene."

I wasn't sure what Graham was thinking. He remained silent. Finally, just as I was about to provide more detail, to justify the request, he answered, relented (at least that was how it felt, how his tone sounded). "Ok, Agent Walker. But she needs to know that you are going in without any kind of diplomatic protection. If the mission goes wrong, becomes an incident, the two of you will rot with the agent. The US will deny all knowledge, all involvement. The story will be that the op was rogue. Is that clear to you, and will you make it clear to Agent Rizzo?"

"Yes, clear; I will explain it to her. I will talk to her, then call you back. Is transportation arranged?"

"Yes, you will fly commercial to Montgomery, Alabama - then be taken to Maxwell AFB. You will hitchhike on a transport that will get you from there to Malaysia. I will wait to tell you more until you have talked to Agent Rizzo. That way, I won't have to repeat myself. Flight to Montgomery leaves in four hours, Agent." Graham ended the call. I left my room. Zondra was in hers.

"I was on the phone with Graham. He has a mission for me. Malaysia." I told her about the mission and then told her that I had asked Graham if she could be my partner. I made sure she understood how exposed we would be, how dangerous the mission was.

She smiled at me and shrugged. "Understood." She smiled even more. "Really? I'm going to be partnered with Graham's Enforcer?"

I didn't answer the question in that form. Not exactly. "Is that a yes?" Zondra nodded. She grabbed her suitcase and started to put things in it. I went back to my room. I felt strangely elated. Strangely: because I was facing a mission that could well be my last, and because I was going to do it with a partner. Neither of those things should have left me any emotional space for elation. Dread made more sense. I could die. I worked alone.

The first was not good news, of course, but it was old news. I had been reconciling myself to my fate since Graham installed me as his Enforcer. I would die on the job. A knife, a bullet, an explosion...torture. No one but Graham would be sure what happened to me, if even he was. But I had never been anybody in particular. There was a dark appropriateness in the thought that my grave would be unmarked. My life was too. Unmarked. Unnamed. I would become the corpse I kept dreaming myself to be. But I did not want to die. Not on the job. Not at all. I had never lived. Not as somebody. Not as me. There were so many things I hoped...No. No, No margin in letting myself start that list.

So, why elated?

Because I was not working alone. The thought of a partner panicked me. I was not sure I could do it. But it cheered me too. I realized I wanted to try. I had been alone for so long, really since the Farm, since James got in that taxi. The last few days were the first time I have felt any kind of connection to anyone since Sebastian and Christiana, and that was false, unreal, an attachment from within a cover. They never knew me. But with Zondra...Maybe I already have a friend. (Maybe with Carina too, although I can't tell if she will ever get over sharing that secret with me.) I doubt Graham will let me have a partner for long - I know he has already said the team is temporary. But maybe I can make friends that can outlive the partnership or the team.

I called Graham and told him the news. He told me he would brief us during our layover at Maxwell. It would be long enough for him to do it. They would have a room set aside in one of the hangers where we could have a conference call. He promised to make the necessary changes to the mission specs so that Zondra was accommodated - weapons, gear, tactical items. He ended the call. I grabbed my suitcase. It was already packed. It was never really unpacked. I could not remember the last time it had been empty for more than a few minutes. It had the necessities in it at all times. But never anything of mine, really, nothing personal. I had nothing personal to put in it, not even a picture or a piece of jewelry. I traveled light more by necessity than by design. I had nothing to carry of any real weight, certainly nothing of emotional weight. I had nothing with sentimental value. Nothing with a meaning beyond its utilitarian purpose. The closest was my Porsche. But it was in DC, in storage, as it mostly was, since I was rarely there to drive it.

I called a taxi. Then, I pulled my suitcase into the living area. Amy was sitting on the couch, an ice pack against her eye. The eye was turning purple. Her lip was swollen. She looked like she wanted to cry, but she had not been crying. Carina was sitting beside her. They both looked at me, Amy with her one good eye.

"Leaving so soon? One bad night and you're done with us?" Carina's banter had an edge to it.

"No, but Graham has a mission for me. A couple of days. Zondra's coming with me." Both women did a brief double-take.

Amy got her question out before Carina. "I thought the Enforcer worked alone." Carina glanced at Amy - they had the same question - and then she looked at me.

"This is a two-agent op. I might have been able to do it alone, but it would have been far more dangerous. Carina, you have work to do, DEA work, to get us another lead. Amy, you need time to recover from tonight."

"No, no, I don't." Amy's voice rose.

Carina put her hand on Amy's arm. "Yes, Amy, you do. And Sarah is right. I have work to do here. Zondra makes sense. You and I will need to keep the cover going while they are gone. What happened tonight ought not to endanger the cover. But if we ever find that bastard, Ricky, I will separate him from his potential to father children…"

Amy looked at Carina and then at me. Finally, she looked at the floor, nodding.

Zondra came up the hallway. I gave her a look and she followed me outside. The taxi was already there, waiting for us. My strange elation was still tagging along. I knew it was crazy, but I felt like a teenager who'd convinced her folks to let her friend come with them on vacation.

But this was no vacation.

And Graham was not my father.

ooOoo

I spun the wheel of the jeep, fighting the mud and the rain. The only way to get to the mountain estate, other than by air, was by this one road. And a long, drawn-out rain, days long, evidently, had rendered what was normally an easily passable road a brown, spongy challenge. Heavy vegetation and trees lined the side of the road. The rain was a pain now. It would be an advantage later.

We drove. The only sound was the engine and the rain. We hadn't spent much time talking on the plane. We'd gone over the plan we formulated with Graham, utilizing the suggestions of the analyst who had 'gamed' the op. (The analyst had recommended that it be a two-agent op. Graham let that slip. He had known from the beginning but would have sent me in alone.) But once Zondra and I were in agreement, at least in theory, about how to get the agent out, we had fallen into a companionable silence. I had not felt so much at ease around another person since Gale. One part of me kept whispering obsessively that this was a bad idea: an increase in complications, an extension of vulnerability. I was going to rely on someone else. Someone I liked. Someone I could not simply abandon to her fate if that was what the mission required. Still, I liked not being alone.

We stopped the jeep about two miles from the estate. Graham had supplied us with a set of radio-controlled mines. I got out of the jeep and grabbed the short, military shovel in the back. Zondra had gotten out too, and grabbed the box of mines. She put it on the ground carefully and began to unwrap the first one. I dug a hole. The rain made the work easy but messy. We planted three mines in a line across the road. Although I had not used the ordnance before, I knew something about them. (I knew something about almost any weapon or explosive. I made myself know.) They packed a serious bang. Together, the three of them would open a crater in the road. There ought to be enough interference to allow us to get away, if we could make it this far.

By the time we were done, darkness had crept in. The rain had not given way to it, however. It continued to fall. I ran my hands through the mud on the shovel blade and then smeared it on my face, down my arms.

Zondra gave me a shocked look. "Just blending in." She shook her head. We grinned at each other. We got back in the jeep and drove as close as we could. The rain was again on our side. It was loud and it was a sonic blanket, muffling noises. Sounds would not carry in it. I turned off the engine. Zondra sent the signal. Our escape ride was not really the jeep. It would take us part of the way. There was a knoll, reasonably clear, just past where we had buried the mines. A copter would pick us up there, get us away.

"Ok, I'm going in, Zondra. I will contact you once when I have him, and once when we clear the mansion. If he's mobile, I will try to come to you. If he's not, you'll have to come to us."

"Right. Let's hope he's mobile. And, hey, Sarah, just call me 'Z'. Partners, right?" She seemed as strangely elated about this as I did.

"Ok, Z. Let's bust this guy out."

She laughed. "The usual, huh? Helpless man depending on a woman to save him." I grinned at her, feeling the mud on my face. I hoped she couldn't tell that where men and women were concerned, I had little idea what was usual - although I appreciated the joke, the lightening of the mood.

I slipped on a vest and then the small pack I would carry on my back. I had knives and an S&W and an extra pistol. I had flashbangs. I had a couple of explosives. I had tools. I adjusted the cap on my head.

Zondra walked part of the way with me, to a high point near the road from which she could see the compound. She set up her rifle (with a night-vision scope) there. She would be able to watch the compound for me and provide cover, if necessary. The hope was to do this without that being necessary.

As I trudged on alone in the mud, I visualized the layout of the estate. Graham had sent a satellite photo to Maxwell. The place must have cost a fortune to build: getting workers out to the remote site, getting building supplies and there. It was really a small village. Several buildings. One main house. A nearby set of solar panels provided power. A nearby stream provided water. It was rustic, but not primitive. A safe retreat for a man with powerful enemies.

Graham had been vague about the agent, about his capture, about who he was or why he mattered. I was used to that. I was Graham's weapon but I never knew more than he deemed absolutely necessary about missions. I actually wanted it that way. I did not want to think about anything except what was necessary for the mission. I kept myself ignorant, as much as I could, of Graham's agenda. Who, what, when, where? - all in the barest possible terms. And never, ever Why?

As I got closer, my mind focused entirely on my surroundings and on the mission. This was why I wanted to work. Work occupied my head. Kept it from wandering, wondering. Work allowed me to sequester my heart. To not feel what I felt.

There was no fence or gate to contend with. But the estate was lit up, at least around the main building, a long, low affair. My first order of business was to prepare to leave. I worked slowly, the final twenty yards or so on my belly, slithering in the mud. I got to the small hut where the batteries that stored power from the solar panels were kept. Luckily, the hut was beyond the illuminated area around the main building. I found the power line running to the hut and I quickly attached an explosive to it, then grabbed handfuls of muddy grass and obscured the device. I did the same on the line running from the hut toward the main house. I had the trigger for the explosives in my pocket. If all went well, I could now turn off the lights.

That left me with my next task. Getting into the main house. Graham's analyst was reasonably sure (reasonably sure!) that one end of the house was used as living quarters, the other was devoted to operations, running the 'business'. The analyst thought that was likely where the agent was being held. I needed to get to the main building and inside it, but that was going to require that I be in the light for at least a few seconds. I had to risk it. I felt calm, as I almost always did on missions. Perhaps the truest testimony to how screwed up I was, my life was - the truest testimony was that this, prone in the mud, about to run into the light and perhaps to be shot, this felt normal. Everything else, everything non-mission, everything else felt non-normal.

I made myself stop thinking and I ran into the light. No one saw me. Lucky. Carina would find that funny.

The door I reached was at an angle from the lights around the main house, and so it was overshadowed. I was probably safe there for a few seconds. The door, surprisingly, was unlocked; the knob turned. I held the knob in place and pushed the door open. I sighed in relief: no lights. I slipped inside.

I stood blinking for a moment, otherwise unmoving, letting my eyes adjust. I was in a storage room. Crates of weapons. Boxes of canned goods. Rolls of toilet paper. There was a door opposite me, and I could see light beneath it. There was also a door to my right. No light under it. I moved to the door on my right. Instinct. As I got closer, I could see a padlock on the door. I unslung my bag and got my lockpicking tools out. A few seconds later, the padlock was unlocked. I pulled it out of place and opened the door. Inside, just barely visible in the dim light from outside, was a man. He was gagged and tied to a chair. He matched the description Graham gave me. The agent.

I grabbed a knife and quickly cut his bonds. He had been beaten, but nothing seemed broken. He woke as I worked. He jerked.

"Quiet," I whispered. "We are here to get you out." He smiled in relief and I could see that he had lost a tooth or two. He looked a bit like a jack-o-lantern. "Can you walk?" He nodded, tentatively. I helped him stand. Yes: he could walk. I reached into my bag and retrieved the extra pistol. I handed it to him and he cocked it, practiced and sure, despite a grimace. I could see that his hands were battered. But he made no sound. He nodded at me and I led us out to the door.

"We will be exposed when we step out. I can cut the lights, but I don't want to do it unless I have to. I want to get out clean, if possible." He understood.

I contacted Zondra. "Got him, Z. About to come out. Clear?"

"Clear." I felt relieved, not just that we were clear, but that she was okay.

"Move quickly but don't try to run. It's raining. They won't hear us. Let's hope they don't see us."

We stepped out the door and began to move quickly through the light. I led him along the reverse path I had taken. We were on the edge of the light when I heard a cry.

Shit.

We then began to run. Shots were fired. Misses. I fished the detonator out of my pocket. Once we had gotten well past the battery hut, I clicked it. There was a moment of bright light caused by the twin explosions, then everything plunged into darkness and chaos. More shots. More misses. We were out of the estate grounds at this point, moving along the road. Zondra should have moved to the jeep at this point and should be ready to go. I could hear the yells behind us, but at a distance. More shots. Misses. No. I heard the agent gasp. I spun. He had his hand on his shoulder.

"Go, I'm ok."

I turned and led us deeper into the darkness. I knew that the bad guys had a jeep and a truck. They knew we had to use the road. They'd be after us soon. Very soon.

Ahead I saw the jeep, then heard it. Zondra was at the wheel. I jumped in the front seat beside her, and the agent got in the back. She flipped on the lights and lurched into motion. I turned to look back. I saw headlights turn our direction. They were coming. But we had a sizeable lead. Zondra drove the jeep expertly, getting as much speed out of it as she could. The headlights behind us were still at a distance. They had not gained.

After a few minutes, we passed the spot where we buried the mines. Zondra had that detonator and she clicked it. There was a bright explosion, and heavy thump, thump, thump; dirt sprayed onto the jeep along with the rain.

We had almost reached the extraction point, but we were going to have to do the last of the distance, up to the top of the knoll, on foot. I turned to the agent. He was unconscious. I got out and pulled him toward me, getting him up on my shoulder in a fireman's carry. Zondra shot me a look.

"I can carry him. Let's go." We plunged into the vegetation.

I didn't think that climb would ever end. But it finally did. A few moments after we got to the top, the copter arrived. We put the agent in and then got in ourselves. The copter lifted up and into the night. We could see the headlights below us. The bad guys had reached our jeep, but we had eluded their grasp. I turned to Zondra and she put out her hand.

"Nice job, partner."

"You too."

ooOoo

The copter flew us to a private airfield in Penang. Zondra and I tended the agent on the way, got his bleeding under control. A medical team met us on the ground and whisked him away. I had no idea who he was or why he had been captured. But the medics did tell me he would be fine.

There were facilities at the private airport for us to us to clean up some. Graham called. He debriefed us quickly. He was obviously pleased with the rescue. It had been louder than I wanted or he hoped, but there was no sign it would become any diplomatic problem. He had a hotel room for us in one of the nicest places in the city. We took a taxi to it and took showers, but we were both keyed up from the mission. Zondra had been in Penang before. She said there was something she had always wanted to try. Why not? We are celebrating. We headed out.

We found the place she had in mind: a bar that served snake's blood. They killed the snake at the table (and offered to let you bite out the heart - neither of us was that keyed up) and then they drained the blood into glasses of rice wine. I picked up my glass. She picked up hers. We clinked them together and then downed the shots of blood. For a second, my corpse dream, me-as-zombie, flashed into my mind. I pushed it away. Zondra grinned at me, a slightly bloody grin. I grinned one back. I looked at the bartender (snake handler?), waved my hand at our empty glasses.

"Another round."

A/N2 Sarah's studied but not wholly successful attempts to 'depersonalize' her own inner life give her voice here a simultaneous matter-of-factness and dream-like-ness. (At least that was my aim.)

Again, a tricky chapter to write. I need to tell the story of the mission, but that story actually serves as background to Sarah (and Zondra's) story.

Zondra mentions this mission in vs. the Cat Squad. Amy adds that this was not a mission of the full team but rather of Sarah and Zondra's. A rescue and shots of snake's blood. A little female agent bonding. Tune in next time as the team begins to fall apart. Chapter 12, "Girls Will Be Girls (Four): Heels?"

Drop me a line as you leave, please.