The Past Never Dies Quietly
By Didi
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters and don't know anyone that does. Suing me will probably get you the 38 cents in my pocket now and nothing more than that.
Summary: Tasha takes steps to confirm a rumor.
Note: Okay, I knew that it was a bad idea to start a new fan fiction when there are other ones that I haven't finished yet. Can't devote enough time to any one exclusively. (sigh)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Two
Distractions are the way of normal life, but for those whose lives are not what the average citizen would call normal, distractions could be killers. So it was with great apprehension that Quick Williams approached a very distracted Tasha as she sat staring out the window of the V.I.P. main office.
"Tasha?"
When there was no answer, Quick frowned. There was definitely something wrong when Tasha was so out of it that she could ignore or simply not hear her name being called.
"TASHA!"
Hair swung as her head snapped toward him, eyes still far away seeing some unknown memory deep within the recesses of her mind. "What is it?"
"I think I should be the one to ask that," Quick asked of his friend. He had spent most of the morning watching her completely not her usual alert self. She even allowed one of Val's usual chirpy morning greeting go by without so much as a rolling of the eyes. "What's up?"
She forced herself to lie through her teeth. "Nothing. I'm not liking the prospect of this new job we took."
A quicksilver grin came and went. "When have you ever liked anything Val picked? But that's hardly something that would put you in such a funk and we both know it. What is really going on?"
Perhaps had it been anyone else, Tasha would have merely snapped an answer and walked away. But this was Quick, her friend and often confessor. "I've got a problem that may turn out to be more trouble than I'm willing to put up with."
Years ago, Quick had decided that he would never ever under any circumstances try to dig into the darkly shrouded past that Tasha would never talk of. It was perhaps that he too had secrets in his past that he would not care for his friends to know that of that merely accepted Tasha as she was. "Whatever it is, I've got your back on it."
"Thanks," and she meant it. "But this is something I doubt you're going to be able to help me with."
"Nothing is so bad that your friends can't help you deal with," Quick pointed out quietly.
"In this case, I'm afraid that it is," she patted his hand in thanks. "I'll let you know if there is anything that I may…"
"TASHA!" Kay Simmons had a loud ear grating voice when she was either irritated or surprised, something Tasha had long since learned.
With a sigh and a resigned look for Quick, Tasha stood up to intercept the company tech specialist as the petite blonde woman was practically skipping over to them with a large box in her hands.
"This just came for you," she handed over the box but wore the most curious expression on her face, eagerly awaiting the opening of the mysterious package. Tasha did not usually get parcels, heck she hardly ever got mail at the office. And as far as Kay knew, Tasha didn't have any family or friends outside the V.I.P crew. "What is it?"
Tasha glanced down at the large white label with her name and the office address on it written by a thick black marker in bold solid block letters. *David.* She could only guess that kind of equipment her ex- husband has decided to provide for her and the kind of reaction she was likely to get from her co-workers. "Nothing, just some tapes on American military history," the reply came easily from her lips.
"How boring is that!" Kay muttered and left.
"If that's tapes of any kind of any kind of history," Quick said quietly as he watched Tasha's troubled face, "I'll eat my brand new Armani suit covered in ketchup."
She grinned. "That's almost worth opening this box in front of you."
Dark eyes went serious. "Tasha, we're here if you need any kind of…"
"I'll ask if I need any help," Tasha replied before picking up the box and her coat. "Listen, I need some time off. You think you can keep Val from totally humiliating us in front of our clients while I'm gone."
"I think I can do that," Quick smiled quietly. "It's a babysitting job with a few fringe benefits and no real risk. I'm more worried about the fact that you appear to be taking some vacation time."
"I am," she shook her head. "I need to do something that I don't want V.I.P. dragged into it."
"Danger has never stopped us from jumping in where we may be belong."
"Yeah, but this is personal and I want to handle this alone," she purposely left out the part where she'd be working temporarily for the CIA once more. That last thing she needed was for her friends to dig into the missions that she's been in over the past decade. "I'll call once I've returned."
Quick didn't like this, didn't like it one bit. "And if you don't?"
"Then I'm dead and someone will be around to inform you of it," she replied and pushed open the door with the small of her back against the handle. "Don't worry, I'll be careful."
"You better be," Quick said to the closing door. He sat there with his back against the conference table.
"Hey, Quick," Johnny called out as he stepped in. "Want to go a couple of rounds with me on the floor mat?"
Thinking that some physical exertion may help to clear some of the unease he was beginning to feel for Tasha. "Sure, sounds good."
~~~~~~~~~~~
Two handguns with extra clips, four gas grenades, two gas mask, two hands free wireless two-way radios, one tracking device with all the works, two audio bugs, a Russian-English dictionary, her old CIA credentials, and a pair of pink fuzzy dice. Tasha almost allowed herself a grin as she picked up the fuzzy dices again. It was a small reminder of her past with David. *I had wondered if you still remember that pair you won for me at the carnival all those years ago?*
Picking up her custom made suitcase with its hidden compartments, she began to load her arsenal of weapons. While she didn't plan on charging into Russian with guns a blazing, she certainly was going to go in there armed to the teeth and prepared for anything. It's been years since her days as a double agent with the KGB but she still remembered enough to know that in that country, one has to sleep with one eye open.
After the weapons came her array of clothes. On top of her usual dark clothes, used for maximum camouflage, she packed several extra thick sweaters and a long coat that will no doubt come in handy. With those, she added the other little necessities of life, including a variety of poison antidotes, first-aid materials, and toothpaste.
Shutting the suitcase and picking up her small travel bag, she paused in the living room staring at her bookshelf. The three photos sitting there were her own way of reminding herself not to make the same mistake three…four times in a roll. Four marriages, three wedding portraits, four divorces and three ex-husbands, that was enough for four lifetimes. Picking up the first portrait, she touched the face of the man she had married at such a young and naïve age.
He had been a handsome man. Those steely gray eyes were what attracted her and kept her coming back for more. Over the years, the face has changed but those eyes… Opening the back of the frame, Tasha pulled out the most recent of Peter's pictures. She gets rather regular updates of his plastic surgeon's work. Until that moment, she always wondered why he did such a thing. But now she was glad she at least has some idea of who she should be keeping an eye out for. She could only hope he hasn't done any more 'remodeling' since the last time he's come to see her.
Slipping the small photo into her purse, Tasha picked up her suitcase and opened the door to her apartment, pausing a moment to remind herself of all the reasons she was doing this. But none of them were good enough except for the first one. Cause he was Peter and she needed to know. Shutting the door, she pocketed the key and hoped that she'd get to come back.
By Didi
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters and don't know anyone that does. Suing me will probably get you the 38 cents in my pocket now and nothing more than that.
Summary: Tasha takes steps to confirm a rumor.
Note: Okay, I knew that it was a bad idea to start a new fan fiction when there are other ones that I haven't finished yet. Can't devote enough time to any one exclusively. (sigh)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Two
Distractions are the way of normal life, but for those whose lives are not what the average citizen would call normal, distractions could be killers. So it was with great apprehension that Quick Williams approached a very distracted Tasha as she sat staring out the window of the V.I.P. main office.
"Tasha?"
When there was no answer, Quick frowned. There was definitely something wrong when Tasha was so out of it that she could ignore or simply not hear her name being called.
"TASHA!"
Hair swung as her head snapped toward him, eyes still far away seeing some unknown memory deep within the recesses of her mind. "What is it?"
"I think I should be the one to ask that," Quick asked of his friend. He had spent most of the morning watching her completely not her usual alert self. She even allowed one of Val's usual chirpy morning greeting go by without so much as a rolling of the eyes. "What's up?"
She forced herself to lie through her teeth. "Nothing. I'm not liking the prospect of this new job we took."
A quicksilver grin came and went. "When have you ever liked anything Val picked? But that's hardly something that would put you in such a funk and we both know it. What is really going on?"
Perhaps had it been anyone else, Tasha would have merely snapped an answer and walked away. But this was Quick, her friend and often confessor. "I've got a problem that may turn out to be more trouble than I'm willing to put up with."
Years ago, Quick had decided that he would never ever under any circumstances try to dig into the darkly shrouded past that Tasha would never talk of. It was perhaps that he too had secrets in his past that he would not care for his friends to know that of that merely accepted Tasha as she was. "Whatever it is, I've got your back on it."
"Thanks," and she meant it. "But this is something I doubt you're going to be able to help me with."
"Nothing is so bad that your friends can't help you deal with," Quick pointed out quietly.
"In this case, I'm afraid that it is," she patted his hand in thanks. "I'll let you know if there is anything that I may…"
"TASHA!" Kay Simmons had a loud ear grating voice when she was either irritated or surprised, something Tasha had long since learned.
With a sigh and a resigned look for Quick, Tasha stood up to intercept the company tech specialist as the petite blonde woman was practically skipping over to them with a large box in her hands.
"This just came for you," she handed over the box but wore the most curious expression on her face, eagerly awaiting the opening of the mysterious package. Tasha did not usually get parcels, heck she hardly ever got mail at the office. And as far as Kay knew, Tasha didn't have any family or friends outside the V.I.P crew. "What is it?"
Tasha glanced down at the large white label with her name and the office address on it written by a thick black marker in bold solid block letters. *David.* She could only guess that kind of equipment her ex- husband has decided to provide for her and the kind of reaction she was likely to get from her co-workers. "Nothing, just some tapes on American military history," the reply came easily from her lips.
"How boring is that!" Kay muttered and left.
"If that's tapes of any kind of any kind of history," Quick said quietly as he watched Tasha's troubled face, "I'll eat my brand new Armani suit covered in ketchup."
She grinned. "That's almost worth opening this box in front of you."
Dark eyes went serious. "Tasha, we're here if you need any kind of…"
"I'll ask if I need any help," Tasha replied before picking up the box and her coat. "Listen, I need some time off. You think you can keep Val from totally humiliating us in front of our clients while I'm gone."
"I think I can do that," Quick smiled quietly. "It's a babysitting job with a few fringe benefits and no real risk. I'm more worried about the fact that you appear to be taking some vacation time."
"I am," she shook her head. "I need to do something that I don't want V.I.P. dragged into it."
"Danger has never stopped us from jumping in where we may be belong."
"Yeah, but this is personal and I want to handle this alone," she purposely left out the part where she'd be working temporarily for the CIA once more. That last thing she needed was for her friends to dig into the missions that she's been in over the past decade. "I'll call once I've returned."
Quick didn't like this, didn't like it one bit. "And if you don't?"
"Then I'm dead and someone will be around to inform you of it," she replied and pushed open the door with the small of her back against the handle. "Don't worry, I'll be careful."
"You better be," Quick said to the closing door. He sat there with his back against the conference table.
"Hey, Quick," Johnny called out as he stepped in. "Want to go a couple of rounds with me on the floor mat?"
Thinking that some physical exertion may help to clear some of the unease he was beginning to feel for Tasha. "Sure, sounds good."
~~~~~~~~~~~
Two handguns with extra clips, four gas grenades, two gas mask, two hands free wireless two-way radios, one tracking device with all the works, two audio bugs, a Russian-English dictionary, her old CIA credentials, and a pair of pink fuzzy dice. Tasha almost allowed herself a grin as she picked up the fuzzy dices again. It was a small reminder of her past with David. *I had wondered if you still remember that pair you won for me at the carnival all those years ago?*
Picking up her custom made suitcase with its hidden compartments, she began to load her arsenal of weapons. While she didn't plan on charging into Russian with guns a blazing, she certainly was going to go in there armed to the teeth and prepared for anything. It's been years since her days as a double agent with the KGB but she still remembered enough to know that in that country, one has to sleep with one eye open.
After the weapons came her array of clothes. On top of her usual dark clothes, used for maximum camouflage, she packed several extra thick sweaters and a long coat that will no doubt come in handy. With those, she added the other little necessities of life, including a variety of poison antidotes, first-aid materials, and toothpaste.
Shutting the suitcase and picking up her small travel bag, she paused in the living room staring at her bookshelf. The three photos sitting there were her own way of reminding herself not to make the same mistake three…four times in a roll. Four marriages, three wedding portraits, four divorces and three ex-husbands, that was enough for four lifetimes. Picking up the first portrait, she touched the face of the man she had married at such a young and naïve age.
He had been a handsome man. Those steely gray eyes were what attracted her and kept her coming back for more. Over the years, the face has changed but those eyes… Opening the back of the frame, Tasha pulled out the most recent of Peter's pictures. She gets rather regular updates of his plastic surgeon's work. Until that moment, she always wondered why he did such a thing. But now she was glad she at least has some idea of who she should be keeping an eye out for. She could only hope he hasn't done any more 'remodeling' since the last time he's come to see her.
Slipping the small photo into her purse, Tasha picked up her suitcase and opened the door to her apartment, pausing a moment to remind herself of all the reasons she was doing this. But none of them were good enough except for the first one. Cause he was Peter and she needed to know. Shutting the door, she pocketed the key and hoped that she'd get to come back.