Trip down the memory lane: Part 1: Past and the prologue
Hi. My real name is not important and if I told you... I would have to kill you. It sucks I know, but that's company policy. Can't do much about that. Oath on my part, courtesy on theirs. For your own safety and my convenience, you should refer to me by my current legal name, Sarah Walker.
I am a spy and former conwoman. During my high school days I joined the CIA to save my father from the clutches of the law and the myriad enemies he made in his brief career as a white-collar thief... or to be honest, our career since I was his accomplice for numerous cons.
After my father was arrested, I've never cried because of a person. Life taught me that when two predators meet, there isn't anyone who doesn't fear. Everyone is afraid. However, it is the one who shows fear first that will lose their life. Therefore, if someone is coming after you… you attack them first before they can discover your weaknesses. That is how you survive in the animal kingdom. That's why I never hope for anything from another person. The things I hate the most in this world… are a human's understanding and attention. Because that makes you vulnerable and susceptible to manipulation. From the time I was left alone until now… I never expected anything from anyone. Still don't. So I am okay. Whether someone misunderstands or understands me… it doesn't matter to me at all. I am like that.
My time is interwoven with the past. Everyday I struggle… and try to move on. But on days like these, inevitably and in a matter of moments… I go back… to that time again.
My time is stuck in the past. That's why there is no tomorrow for me.
The time when I met him.
...xxxx...xxxxx...xxxxxx...
The door to Redwood Bar and Grill swung wide open. A beautiful blonde dressed in a blue hoodie, dark skinny jeans and converses dashed in. Most of her face remained hidden beneath a scarf. She immediately braced herself as she stepped in, holding her breath as her instincts were right on the money. Her mother had escaped from rehab. For the twenty-seventh time this year.
Sarah nodded in greeting to Arthur Folley, the bar's owner and one-time ally of her father. A former conman himself, he – unlike her father – knew when to quit and was smart enough to not get his family involved in the 'business', which she respected. Nowadays, he was happy to make an honest living.
"Your mom has been out for the last few hours and I didn't know who else to call." Arthur remarked in an apologetic tone as he motioned towards the unconscious middle-aged woman. Emma's head was buried in her arms and she looked a total mess. "Some guys were about to call the cops but I stopped them. Didn't want your company to learn about her."
"Thanks Arthur." Sarah nodded in gratitude. She leaned on the table and put a hand on the woman's back. "Hey, Emma. Wake up!"
After a few pats, the woman began to stir awake and stared at her. Even in the midst of her gradual awakening, she recognized her daughter's eyes right away.
"Wha... Sam, why... are you here?" Emma asked.
"You ran away from rehab. Again." Sarah shook her head with a sigh, as she wrapped her arm around her mother and helped her out of her seat.
"I... don't... remember."
"Yeah, I know." Sarah said, "Let's get you home and cleaned up before we talk."
"I... am sorry." Tears welled up in Emma's eyes. "I... know I failed you... If I had gotten my shit together then... Jack..."
"Mo... Emma, please." Sarah bit her lip, barely holding back her own tears. "Don't start. Not now."
"Just don't do this. Not for him. If you agree to this... you will cry forever." Emma choked with emotions.
"It's a price I would happily pay for my father. After all, he took care of me while you were busy with sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll." Sarah's expressions hardened as she led her towards her car. She searched for the car keys, found them in Emma's purse, then unlocked the door.
"Why? Why... can't we just run away? You still have a lot of time ahead of you. I know you don't want this life. I promise... I will get sober. Just give me a..." Emma pleaded once more before she fell unconscious on the passenger seat.
"It's too late, Mom. Even if I wanted to run, destiny has already begun." Sarah whispered softly as she drove off. She looked at her mother only once or twice throughout the drive. For the most part, her eyes were fixated on the road, with occasional glances at the city around her.
This is my life and it's pretty obvious I haven't exactly led a charming life.
All I ever wanted to have was a normal childhood. Instead, I got a drugged-up mother who didn't do anything for me except to send me away with my father, a conman who taught me nothing except to lie to and steal from people.
And yet, despite my issues with them, I can't abandon my parents.
I hate that I can't bring myself to hate them and perhaps I won't be able to pull this off in the future either. They are the only connection I have with reality. I need them and I still love them.
I will do anything to keep them safe.
Anything.
...xxxxxx...xxxxxx...
Chuck Bartowski nearly passed out on the rough cotton in his dorm room, which was somewhat similar to his Stanford residence. A messy, white-walled, two-bed lodging... not something he expected when he accepted this one-month internship in Harvard. A number of boxes – both opened and unopened – were scattered across the room. Some belonged to him; some to Cole Barker, his mysterious roommate. The young Bartowski didn't know what to make of the Englishman who claimed to be an exchange student from Oxford University, having spent most of his day out working at the nearby Large Mart outlet. He seemed reasonably friendly and compassionate, but after the whole incident with Larkin, Chuck just couldn't find it in himself to befriend another ladies' man.
There was a small chance for him because many people still believed in his innocence. He had a glimmer of hope that things would work out in the end, which helped him to keep moving forward. His kind-hearted Head of the Department gave him this assignment despite the cheating allegations and a few senior faculty members actually forced the provost to launch an official investigation, delaying his potential expulsion by two months.
Larkin must have spent a while planning this and considered every possibility. That's why no matter how much Chuck's friends tried to help they couldn't find a single thing which could point towards his innocence.
Such was the potential fallout that he was even having nightmares about the whole debacle. This assignment could very well be his last. The last HOORAH of a bright and promising student in a prestigious institute before they forever branded him a cheater.
On the plus side, Chuck had some peace and quiet. Sure, he'd clocked in after midnight (earning his beer money), completely exhausted and feeling a bit down from both work and the nasty break up with Jill, but he could finally get some good night's sleep.
Or at least, that was the plan.
The door to his room slammed open and the first thing he noticed was a girl, straddling his roommate and making out with him quite passionately.
The entwined twenty year-olds fell back onto Cole's bed, then the Englishman took charge as his long, messy brown hair flattened against the unmade mattress. Chuck froze, unable to think. This never happened to him at Stanford. What the hell was he supposed to do? Awkwardly, he looked away from the girl, focusing on the wall instead.
Just as Cole began to reach under her shirt, the girl took notice of Chuck and pulled away mid-French kiss. Cole flinched in annoyance.
"What?"
"Uh…" The girl awkwardly pointed towards Chuck, who looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. "Roommate."
Cole turned to look at Chuck. An odd mix of pleasure and embarrassment lit up in his eyes. "Oh hey, Charles. I thought you were going to pull an all-nighter."
"It's Thursday. I have to work with faculty stuff on that router. It's why I was sent here from Stanford to start with." Chuck deadpanned, now looking at Cole.
"Well…" Cole sat up, causing his lady-friend to stand up, "I definitely forgot to take that into consideration. Umm... so do you... want me... us to go?"
"No." Chuck stood up. What the hell was he doing? "I was just thinking I could use some fresh air." No, he wasn't. Why was he saying this?
"You sure?"
"Absolutely." Not. No way. God, this couldn't get worse. Damn! Sometimes, he took the nice guy status quo too far. He really needed to learn how to say no.
"Well, thanks, mate. I really owe you one for this."
Chuck grabbed his backpack, then filled it a few books and his pillow before leaving the room. He resisted the urge to slam the door shut on his way out.
Fresh air. Fan-fucking-tastic! Where am I going to sleep now, at nearly two in the morning? In a tree? My last name is Bartowski, not Parker.
Closing his eyes, he took a long breath. A big light bulb went off in his head as a certain quote returned to his memory.
Widener Library. Open 24 hours for the hardworking students of Harvard University to aid them in achieving excellence in their studies.
...xxxxxx...xxxxxxx...
Sarah walked dazedly down Harvard's campus, ignoring the uncomfortable glances of the security guards and drunken students she passed by. She should have just gone back to her apartment but after her mother's sudden 'visit' she felt really disturbed from deep inside and wanted to occupy herself with some work.
Perhaps finishing that project on economics might put my mind at ease.
The blonde shrugged for a moment before having a mild stare down with the only person in sight – a grumpy old librarian who obviously hated his job. She waved him hello but it seemed that the old man mastered the art of sleeping with his eyes open. Wonderful to know Harvard always hired the best and most efficient in the business.
The walk inside was enough to make her feel tired. There were three separate floors; each one half the size of a football field. Tens of thousands of books were sorted and shelved. Now all she needed to do was find the book on Investment Project Design written by Gary Becker.
I remember where I found it last time.
She immediately headed for the basement floor. She tried opening the door to it, only to discover it was locked. Sarah let out a sigh. This meant that she needed to find the book the hard way, by exploring the library. Eventually, after searching through countless shelves, she found herself on the top floor, near the back of the library. As she passed by a particular shelf, her feet came up against something slippery and she fell over.
Sarah quickly bounced back up, blinking in confusion as she looked down at the floor. The offending object was a sleeping bag, hidden extremely carefully. She gulped as the bag slowly opened, exposing a guy around her age, with slightly messy hair and brown eyes.
"Oh my dog... I mean God! Sorry... I really thought the librarian caught me." He stammered with a goofy smile, before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and sitting up. "Chuck is me... Uh, my name is Charles Irving Bartowski and I am from... Stanford. Not that you need to know... that... I mean my middle name isn't..." Chuck let out a sigh, rubbing the the back of his head in embarrassment.
He looked at the pretty blonde who gave him a blank look for a moment before offering her hand, a small smile appearing on her face.
"It's alright. You are probably just tired. My name is Sarah."
"Yeah, not having a great day. I just got back from a late shift and I couldn't sleep in my assigned dorm because my roommate is getting funky with someone."
"No way!"
"I'm serious!"
Unable to restrain her amusement any longer, she burst out in a fit of giggles.
...xxxxx...xxxxx...xxxxxxx...
Fumbling, awkward and walking with a perpetual slouch, he was quite possibly the most unnoticeable individual on the entire campus. Even when in a crowd, he never quite seemed to be part of it.
But he had the kindest eyes I have ever seen.
...xxxxx...xxxxx...