Show: The Agency
Title: The American Family: Chapter 6
Pairing: A.B. Stiles/Terri Lowell
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
A/N: Sorry about the delay folks, but I had a bad case of writers block, and I'm also coming down with a bug of some sort. But I got some inspiration from a great writer by the name of Kusuma, who is a fanfic author for "The Agency". Thank you for your comments, keep 'em coming please, and enjoy!
*~*~*~*~*~* The remainder of Terri's weekend had been pretty uneventful. She had finished some work, cleaned the house, then treated her self with a little shopping downtown, before coming back home to see her answering machine light flashing. It had been Michael, calling to apologise - he wouldn't be able to make it tonight - something had come up, but he would call her on Sunday.
Terri had been admittedly disappointed, but that freed up some time to check up on Stiles and Alex, but still no one had answered the telephone. She wasn't worried - A.B.2 would be safe with his father. If anything, she was more curious as to what they were up to than anything else.
He had finally called back Sunday afternoon to tell her he would be dropping Alex off later that evening. When asked where the hell they had been all weekend, he chuckled and replied he had taken Alex fishing with his downstairs neighbour Seamus O'Reilly and his grandson Matthew. Terri laughed along with him as he recounted how they had been practically marooned in the middle of the lake in Seamus's rickety old fishing boat for six hours, and all they had to show for it was an old boot and a rubber tire with a slow leak.
It had not been uncomfortable those few minutes - they had actually had a civil conversation that had not dissolved into a screaming match, and it felt *good*. Terri was happy. Things were finally going good it seemed.
She had no idea how wrong she was.
*~*~*~*~*~* CIA Headquarters, Monday morning, 8:30 a.m.
It was Monday morning again, time for yet another meeting with the OTS and IRT. On the agenda today was the elusive Sumac Cell, causing so much trouble in Northern Europe, particularly battle-scarred Northern Ireland.
"The Sumac Cell," announced Carl Reese, flipping on the video hologram before them. Gory images of mangled and burnt building and cars, dreary skies and streets filled with crying, shell-shocked people greeted their eyes. "Not much is know about them as you all know. they are quite reclusive. nothing is know about them but what they want us to know," he continued, as he scrolled through the images.
"They're Irish," spoke out Stiles. "Catholic. reformists. violent." he continued. "They limit their 'activities' to predominantly Protestant regions of Ireland and Northern Europe."
Gage nodded his head, and Stiles continued. "They've been fairly quiet in the past couple of years. ever since Northern Ireland elected a Catholic Prime Minister in the last election. What I don't get is what this has to do with us." He shot Gage and Quinn an expectant look.
Terri looked at the two leaders with the same expectancy.
Gage cleared his throat. "Well. it doesn't have anything to do with us. yet."
Terri lifted an eyebrow, curious about his cryptic answer. Joshua asked the question niggling at the back of her mind. "What do you mean, 'yet'?"
"What has the intelligence community worried is the fact that we know so little about them," Carl answered. "Like Agent Stiles said, we only know what they want us to know. All efforts to learn more have been 'eliminated'. No one can get close to them. That in itself is worrying - we have a potential enemy out there, but yet we know absolutely nothing about it. Also, where are they? They've seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth. no bombings, no kidnappings, no contact. nothing."
"What are you worried about then?" The question came Jackson.
Quinn turned to look at his colleague, "What might happen if they choose to resurface."
Terri was confused: she still didn't understand.
"Do you think they might have specific targets?" asked Stiles.
Carl nodded and flipped the hologram monitor once more. The image of Martin Archer, the U.S Special Peace Envoy to Northern Ireland, filled the screen. "Martin Archer," announced Carl. "You all know who he is. You also know he was part of the team that helped engineer the peace process in Northern Ireland three years ago. He was on hand at the election and it was well known in the intelligence community that although the esteemed Mr. Archer claimed to be fair and balanced, he is a devout Protestant. and had on many an occasion voiced his wish that the first Prime Minister of a united Northern Ireland be a Protestant.
"With Northern Ireland approaching its second election since peace was established, the President thought it prudent that we send an envoy to help oversee the proceedings and keep the peace between Sinn Fein and The Orange Brigade."
"Lemme guess," spoke up Joshua, "that lucky envoy is none other than Martin Archer?"
"The one and only," replied Gage, taking over for his deputy. "He has not exactly made friends with either side in Ireland, particularly the IRA and the Sumac Cell. We have reason to believe that if Archer goes to Ireland, The Sumac Cell might resurface and disaster might ensue."
"I don't get it, sir," spoke up a very baffled Terri. "If you think that sending Archer to Ireland is going to cause so much trouble, why send him in the first place?"
Gage rolled his eyes, "That's a question I've asked myself on numerous occasions. But the truth of the matter is, although 'privately' Archer may be a prejudiced bastard, 'publicly' he's among the best in the field."
"Seems to be more trouble than he's worth," muttered Stiles.
"What do you want us to do?" asked Joshua.
"Keep on them. Find out about the political atmosphere in Northern Europe. anything you can find. IRA, Orange Brigade. whatever you can find. Find our deep-covers over them, see what they can tell us. most of all, try to find out about that damned Sumac Cell!"
TBC.
A/N: Oy, I hate this chapter! R&R, please, but please be nice.
A/N: Sorry about the delay folks, but I had a bad case of writers block, and I'm also coming down with a bug of some sort. But I got some inspiration from a great writer by the name of Kusuma, who is a fanfic author for "The Agency". Thank you for your comments, keep 'em coming please, and enjoy!
*~*~*~*~*~* The remainder of Terri's weekend had been pretty uneventful. She had finished some work, cleaned the house, then treated her self with a little shopping downtown, before coming back home to see her answering machine light flashing. It had been Michael, calling to apologise - he wouldn't be able to make it tonight - something had come up, but he would call her on Sunday.
Terri had been admittedly disappointed, but that freed up some time to check up on Stiles and Alex, but still no one had answered the telephone. She wasn't worried - A.B.2 would be safe with his father. If anything, she was more curious as to what they were up to than anything else.
He had finally called back Sunday afternoon to tell her he would be dropping Alex off later that evening. When asked where the hell they had been all weekend, he chuckled and replied he had taken Alex fishing with his downstairs neighbour Seamus O'Reilly and his grandson Matthew. Terri laughed along with him as he recounted how they had been practically marooned in the middle of the lake in Seamus's rickety old fishing boat for six hours, and all they had to show for it was an old boot and a rubber tire with a slow leak.
It had not been uncomfortable those few minutes - they had actually had a civil conversation that had not dissolved into a screaming match, and it felt *good*. Terri was happy. Things were finally going good it seemed.
She had no idea how wrong she was.
*~*~*~*~*~* CIA Headquarters, Monday morning, 8:30 a.m.
It was Monday morning again, time for yet another meeting with the OTS and IRT. On the agenda today was the elusive Sumac Cell, causing so much trouble in Northern Europe, particularly battle-scarred Northern Ireland.
"The Sumac Cell," announced Carl Reese, flipping on the video hologram before them. Gory images of mangled and burnt building and cars, dreary skies and streets filled with crying, shell-shocked people greeted their eyes. "Not much is know about them as you all know. they are quite reclusive. nothing is know about them but what they want us to know," he continued, as he scrolled through the images.
"They're Irish," spoke out Stiles. "Catholic. reformists. violent." he continued. "They limit their 'activities' to predominantly Protestant regions of Ireland and Northern Europe."
Gage nodded his head, and Stiles continued. "They've been fairly quiet in the past couple of years. ever since Northern Ireland elected a Catholic Prime Minister in the last election. What I don't get is what this has to do with us." He shot Gage and Quinn an expectant look.
Terri looked at the two leaders with the same expectancy.
Gage cleared his throat. "Well. it doesn't have anything to do with us. yet."
Terri lifted an eyebrow, curious about his cryptic answer. Joshua asked the question niggling at the back of her mind. "What do you mean, 'yet'?"
"What has the intelligence community worried is the fact that we know so little about them," Carl answered. "Like Agent Stiles said, we only know what they want us to know. All efforts to learn more have been 'eliminated'. No one can get close to them. That in itself is worrying - we have a potential enemy out there, but yet we know absolutely nothing about it. Also, where are they? They've seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth. no bombings, no kidnappings, no contact. nothing."
"What are you worried about then?" The question came Jackson.
Quinn turned to look at his colleague, "What might happen if they choose to resurface."
Terri was confused: she still didn't understand.
"Do you think they might have specific targets?" asked Stiles.
Carl nodded and flipped the hologram monitor once more. The image of Martin Archer, the U.S Special Peace Envoy to Northern Ireland, filled the screen. "Martin Archer," announced Carl. "You all know who he is. You also know he was part of the team that helped engineer the peace process in Northern Ireland three years ago. He was on hand at the election and it was well known in the intelligence community that although the esteemed Mr. Archer claimed to be fair and balanced, he is a devout Protestant. and had on many an occasion voiced his wish that the first Prime Minister of a united Northern Ireland be a Protestant.
"With Northern Ireland approaching its second election since peace was established, the President thought it prudent that we send an envoy to help oversee the proceedings and keep the peace between Sinn Fein and The Orange Brigade."
"Lemme guess," spoke up Joshua, "that lucky envoy is none other than Martin Archer?"
"The one and only," replied Gage, taking over for his deputy. "He has not exactly made friends with either side in Ireland, particularly the IRA and the Sumac Cell. We have reason to believe that if Archer goes to Ireland, The Sumac Cell might resurface and disaster might ensue."
"I don't get it, sir," spoke up a very baffled Terri. "If you think that sending Archer to Ireland is going to cause so much trouble, why send him in the first place?"
Gage rolled his eyes, "That's a question I've asked myself on numerous occasions. But the truth of the matter is, although 'privately' Archer may be a prejudiced bastard, 'publicly' he's among the best in the field."
"Seems to be more trouble than he's worth," muttered Stiles.
"What do you want us to do?" asked Joshua.
"Keep on them. Find out about the political atmosphere in Northern Europe. anything you can find. IRA, Orange Brigade. whatever you can find. Find our deep-covers over them, see what they can tell us. most of all, try to find out about that damned Sumac Cell!"
TBC.
A/N: Oy, I hate this chapter! R&R, please, but please be nice.
