Chapter Four
Marcus Dixon escorted me to the clinic and sat with me while the doctor checked me out. He seemed like a sweet man; or at least, he was good at pretending to be sweet and genuine. He wanted to make sure I understood the truth.
"The only truth sir, is I broke. It doesn't matter why, because if this was real, I would be dead now, along with others I came in contact with. That is the truth." My eye were still bloodshot, but I had vowed I had shed my last tear about my father. He made his decisions and I made mine. That, also, was the truth.
"Alicia, if you want, I'll make in a call to Headquarters and try to contact your father."
"No." I said. My only weakness was my father; that was how they broke me. My weakness was unacceptable. From that moment on, I would act like my father was dead. If I started to think that, and believe that, then they couldn't use him against me. I was alone, and all I had was the Agency. The training strengthen my loyalties, I guess it wasn't a waste of my time. I looked at Dixon, "Sir, I have nothing to say to him. It was a moment of weakness, and I assure you it will not happen again."
"Alicia..."
"Sir, I appreciate what you are about to say, I really do. But I don't want favours. I want to make it in the Agency because of my skills, not my family history. Whatever you have to say, thank you. But, no."
He nodded, and I think I imagined admiration in his eyes. "Miss Vaughn," He slipped back into his professional guise, "I respect your decision. It takes a certain character to not accept the free ride; this Agency rewards hard work. Good luck with the rest of your training." He stood and I extended my hand to shake his. He had a good firm handshake, full of character. I smiled at him and drew in my breath.
"Sir...?" I started, but never finished my thought. We kept our hands locked for a minute, and didn't need to say anything. In a few seconds, we reached a mutual understanding, I treasured. I was glad he was just... there.
I felt liked I was back in high school again; no, high school was never this bad – I feel like I am in Middle School. I entered the mess hall and felt thirty eyes following me around, whispering when they thought I wasn't listening. What happened the last day of the torture and interrogation training was classified, meaning everyone knows about it.
I took my tray over to the normal table and sat down between Mitchell and Hughson. We eat in silence until Midge Atwood, walked over and sat her ass down right in front of me. Stella and Rebecca followed. The three women were busting to rip into me, they kept twirling their forks around and eyed each other, while they made forced conversation. It was uncomfortable for all six dinner guests, and I felt bad for Mitchell and Hughson, because they didn't need to sit through this.
Finally, I snapped, "Why don't you cut the foreplay and just ask?" Only Midge tried to play innocent. It lasted less than a minute. She dropped her voice and questioned with her typical tone, "I thought you said your father was dead."
"No, I said my father's heart collapsed after Mom died." I swallowed my annoyance, figuring it was best to discuss this now and move on.
"Well you insinuated definitely."
"No, you made a wrong assumption. Luckily, it was just about my family history, and not something work related. God knows, what could have happened."
She didn't like that comment, firing back with, "Well, this certainty changes my perspective on your abilities. It definitely explains why you are here."
"I don't like what you are insinuating and I suggest you stop."
"Fine. But I am wondering about your father..."
I stood up and told her, "You know what? I don't need this Sh-t from you. From now on, don't talk to me unless we're in class."
I got up and walked off. I heard her call out, "Sure, thing Protégé."
I stomped down the hallway in a manner I stopped acting when I was four. I heard Mitchell's voice behind me, and I allowed him to catch up.
"I know, I know, I shouldn't have snapped at her, but she is such a bitch, and I just needed someone to scream at and she was the perfect target, considering, I had wanted to bitch her out since the moment I –"
And then he did something that caught me totally off guard. He kissed me.
It was the last thing I excepted and a didn't know exactly how to respond. It made sense, it made a lot of sense. For the past six months we had been spending an abundance of time together, and he was the only person at the Farm, I actually cared about. All the others I histrionically cared for, but Mitchell, I would never want anything to happen to him.
What about that kiss before? We were just role playing, it was nothing. Right? But as I kissed him back, I realised I was wrong, it was not nothing, it was something and that scared me. I heard all the horror stories about CIA agents trying to balance a professional and personal relationship. And if I was really going to commit to the job, I had to remain emotionally unattached. I shouldn't be kissing him back, I should tell him, no, and give him about one hundred reasons why we shouldn't being doing this.
Instead I kept kissing him, all the time thinking this is just hormones. I was not in a clear state of mind since because of what Agent Ortiz told me about my father, and I am just reaching out for human contact. I am using him, and I value our friendship too much to ruin it. I....
He pulled away, and said, "I've wanted to do that for the longest time."
I smiled at him, realizing, maybe this didn´t have anything to do with my father. Perhaps, this was something all its own. "Mitchell..."
"I know..."
"But..."
"I know..."
"I..."
He chuckled, "I know. C´mon, let´s give Boy Scout and Mountaineer a run for their money."
If I hurt him, I would never forgive myself. I will not hurt him. I wil not hurt him. "Okay. But, I wanted you to know." I kissed him on the cheek. We awkwardly paused and gazed at me in a foreign way; it was like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He questioned.
"I know I should, but no."
He nodded, "Okay, well, if you change your mind, you know where I am."
I declared, "I want to take a jog."
He didn´t say any other word, and quipped, "You should hit the punching bag."
"Oh," I smirked, "I think that would be a little too obvious."
He smirked back, "Probably. I'm going to finish dinner."
"Alright. I´m going to go." We went our separate ways, and for once I didn't think about Vaughn.
TBC...
Marcus Dixon escorted me to the clinic and sat with me while the doctor checked me out. He seemed like a sweet man; or at least, he was good at pretending to be sweet and genuine. He wanted to make sure I understood the truth.
"The only truth sir, is I broke. It doesn't matter why, because if this was real, I would be dead now, along with others I came in contact with. That is the truth." My eye were still bloodshot, but I had vowed I had shed my last tear about my father. He made his decisions and I made mine. That, also, was the truth.
"Alicia, if you want, I'll make in a call to Headquarters and try to contact your father."
"No." I said. My only weakness was my father; that was how they broke me. My weakness was unacceptable. From that moment on, I would act like my father was dead. If I started to think that, and believe that, then they couldn't use him against me. I was alone, and all I had was the Agency. The training strengthen my loyalties, I guess it wasn't a waste of my time. I looked at Dixon, "Sir, I have nothing to say to him. It was a moment of weakness, and I assure you it will not happen again."
"Alicia..."
"Sir, I appreciate what you are about to say, I really do. But I don't want favours. I want to make it in the Agency because of my skills, not my family history. Whatever you have to say, thank you. But, no."
He nodded, and I think I imagined admiration in his eyes. "Miss Vaughn," He slipped back into his professional guise, "I respect your decision. It takes a certain character to not accept the free ride; this Agency rewards hard work. Good luck with the rest of your training." He stood and I extended my hand to shake his. He had a good firm handshake, full of character. I smiled at him and drew in my breath.
"Sir...?" I started, but never finished my thought. We kept our hands locked for a minute, and didn't need to say anything. In a few seconds, we reached a mutual understanding, I treasured. I was glad he was just... there.
I felt liked I was back in high school again; no, high school was never this bad – I feel like I am in Middle School. I entered the mess hall and felt thirty eyes following me around, whispering when they thought I wasn't listening. What happened the last day of the torture and interrogation training was classified, meaning everyone knows about it.
I took my tray over to the normal table and sat down between Mitchell and Hughson. We eat in silence until Midge Atwood, walked over and sat her ass down right in front of me. Stella and Rebecca followed. The three women were busting to rip into me, they kept twirling their forks around and eyed each other, while they made forced conversation. It was uncomfortable for all six dinner guests, and I felt bad for Mitchell and Hughson, because they didn't need to sit through this.
Finally, I snapped, "Why don't you cut the foreplay and just ask?" Only Midge tried to play innocent. It lasted less than a minute. She dropped her voice and questioned with her typical tone, "I thought you said your father was dead."
"No, I said my father's heart collapsed after Mom died." I swallowed my annoyance, figuring it was best to discuss this now and move on.
"Well you insinuated definitely."
"No, you made a wrong assumption. Luckily, it was just about my family history, and not something work related. God knows, what could have happened."
She didn't like that comment, firing back with, "Well, this certainty changes my perspective on your abilities. It definitely explains why you are here."
"I don't like what you are insinuating and I suggest you stop."
"Fine. But I am wondering about your father..."
I stood up and told her, "You know what? I don't need this Sh-t from you. From now on, don't talk to me unless we're in class."
I got up and walked off. I heard her call out, "Sure, thing Protégé."
I stomped down the hallway in a manner I stopped acting when I was four. I heard Mitchell's voice behind me, and I allowed him to catch up.
"I know, I know, I shouldn't have snapped at her, but she is such a bitch, and I just needed someone to scream at and she was the perfect target, considering, I had wanted to bitch her out since the moment I –"
And then he did something that caught me totally off guard. He kissed me.
It was the last thing I excepted and a didn't know exactly how to respond. It made sense, it made a lot of sense. For the past six months we had been spending an abundance of time together, and he was the only person at the Farm, I actually cared about. All the others I histrionically cared for, but Mitchell, I would never want anything to happen to him.
What about that kiss before? We were just role playing, it was nothing. Right? But as I kissed him back, I realised I was wrong, it was not nothing, it was something and that scared me. I heard all the horror stories about CIA agents trying to balance a professional and personal relationship. And if I was really going to commit to the job, I had to remain emotionally unattached. I shouldn't be kissing him back, I should tell him, no, and give him about one hundred reasons why we shouldn't being doing this.
Instead I kept kissing him, all the time thinking this is just hormones. I was not in a clear state of mind since because of what Agent Ortiz told me about my father, and I am just reaching out for human contact. I am using him, and I value our friendship too much to ruin it. I....
He pulled away, and said, "I've wanted to do that for the longest time."
I smiled at him, realizing, maybe this didn´t have anything to do with my father. Perhaps, this was something all its own. "Mitchell..."
"I know..."
"But..."
"I know..."
"I..."
He chuckled, "I know. C´mon, let´s give Boy Scout and Mountaineer a run for their money."
If I hurt him, I would never forgive myself. I will not hurt him. I wil not hurt him. "Okay. But, I wanted you to know." I kissed him on the cheek. We awkwardly paused and gazed at me in a foreign way; it was like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He questioned.
"I know I should, but no."
He nodded, "Okay, well, if you change your mind, you know where I am."
I declared, "I want to take a jog."
He didn´t say any other word, and quipped, "You should hit the punching bag."
"Oh," I smirked, "I think that would be a little too obvious."
He smirked back, "Probably. I'm going to finish dinner."
"Alright. I´m going to go." We went our separate ways, and for once I didn't think about Vaughn.
TBC...