Show: The Agency

Title: The American Family – Chapter 20

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

A/N: First off, let me apologise for this atrociously long delay between chapters.
Needless to say that life and school especially intervened. That said, thank you very much
for last chapter's comments; I really appreciated them so, please, keep them coming.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Stiles was surprised to see Terri's curious brown eyes peering intently at him. Only when
the blush starting to suffuse her cheeks, did he realize why. Terri was perched in his lap,
her fingers tightly gripping his shoulders. She embarrassedly cleared her throat and
climbed off his lap. "You were tossing in your sleep," she explained. "I tried to wake you
up."

"Sorry," Stiles replied, his voice hoarse with the remembered dream. His body was
soaked with sweat and his breathing was laboured. He swallowed heavily and stood
up, still reeling from his realization.

"You said her name in your sleep," Terri said softly.

Stiles whirled to face her. "What?"

"Fiona. You said her name in your sleep. Were you remembering the shootout?" she
asked, her voice filled with concern.

Stiles shook his head, but he wasn't about to tell her he was thinking of the night he took
his bestfriend's sister's virginity.

"Oh," Terri replied, not comfortable with the spate of jealousy that was gnawing her
stomach. Somehow she knew there was much more between Stiles and Fiona than he let
on.

"I know why Michael O'Leary's involved in this mess."

At the mention of the man's name, Terri paled and looked away hastily. "Oh? What is
it?"

"He was Fiona's husband."

"What?" Terri asked incredulously. She hadn't known Michael had been married, much
less widowed. But then again, she hadn't known much about either Michael O'Leary
she'd been acquainted with.

Stiles wiped away the lingering fatigue in his eyes. "How could I have been so blind,
Terri? I mean, I looked at this man's file and it was *there*." He of course was thinking
back to when he'd pulled Michael's file after his argument with Terri after her first date.
He hadn't batted an eyelid at the name of his deceased wife – Fiona and O'Brien were
common names, after all. But now, he could see it clearly in his mind's eye:

** Name: Michael Patrick O'Leary

D.O.B: August 10th 1965

Birthplace: Boston, Mass.

Marital Status: Widower – Deceased wife: *Fiona O'Leary nee O'Brien*

Next of kin: Jason O'Leary (brother); Liam O'Leary (uncle)

Occupation: Advisor, U.S. Department of International Relations

Bio… **

"Damn it! I remember now! When I went back to Ireland I distinctly remember the line
of where the ring was supposed to be on her finger. She gave me some cock and bull
story and I believed it, but I'd heard the rumours that she'd been married…."

John-boy had not been pleased whenever he'd seen Stiles and Fiona together… now he
knew why. Fiona had still been married and now her widower was out to seek revenge.
And, from the way Terri paled when his name was mentioned, apparently he was well on
his way to doing so.

"You and Fiona weren't just friends, were you?" she asked, voicing her opinion.

**Was her tone just a bit accusatory?** Stiles couldn't help but wonder. "What ever we had
was over long before I went back to Ireland, Terri," he finally answered after a pregnant
pause.

His diplomatic answer gave her all the proof she needed – Stiles and Fiona had been
lovers. Had he been an unknowing accomplice in an adulterous relationship? Inwardly,
she shuddered; she didn't want to think about it. She checked her watch instead. It was
approaching five-thirty and she was beyond exhausted.

"Goddamn it!" Stiles spat. "This is all such a frickin' mess!" He wished he could just
press a magical rewind button and do it all over again. He would never have touched far less
slept with Fiona; he would have told Quinn to go to hell… but then, he thought, he would never
had joined the CIA, never have met Terri, never have been given a son… so maybe it all
meant something.

"Do you think Michael blames you for Fiona's death?"

Stiles heaved a sigh. "Yes, that's more than likely."

Terri swallowed and she realized she been absentmindedly pulling on her ear – a sign of
nervousness. "Do you think," she paused and actually started scratching the inside of her
wrist, her sharp nails agitating the sensitive skin, " do you think he used *me* as a means
to get back at you?"

Her question had only reconfirmed what he'd been thinking – she'd slept with him. He
asked her.

For the longest moments Terri didn't say anything, but her scratching became even more
persistent until Stiles had to reach out and capture her hand and stop her from puncturing
the skin over her wrists.

"Did he *rape* you?" Stiles' incredulous question was only barely a whisper.

Hot tears of anger and fear and confusion started pooling in Terri's eyes. "I don't know,
Stiles. At the time, it seemed like *my* choice… I *never* said 'no'." she pulled her
wrists away. "The next morning, I realized I'd been drugged…."

"Sonofabitch!" Stiles exploded. "I'll kill him!" he ranted. "If I see him, I'll kill him! To
hell with what John-boy thinks!"

"No!" Terri broke in. "You can't go off on some pissing contest with Michael, Stiles!
This is *my* fault; I let myself be taken in by his lies!"

"No, Terri, can't you see? This whole mess is *my* fault. I should never have let Quinn
talk me into betraying the best friend I ever had. I could've just said no," he added,
though he wasn't quite sure he believed it.

The two fell silent. All around them, they could feel the sleepy neighbourhood waking
up. Somewhere down the hall, a door slammed and footsteps could be heard hurrying
down the corridor.

"So what now?" Terri asked. The weekend was soon over and the deadline for Archer's
assassination was coming sooner rather than later. They had to formulate some type of
plan.

Stiles, now resigned that he could not go through with the assassination without Terri's
help, sighed. "Tomorrow, we go into work. Act *normal*, whatever the hell that word
means. My instructions on the when and where should come by the end of the week," he
went on to explain. "After that we'll have another week to decide how to get out of this
mess."

Terri knew he'd added that for her benefit, but the CIA Agent in her knew that it would
never be that easy.

"I'll take you and Alex back home today and I'll swing by the lab with his vomit sample
to find out if they gave him something to make him forget."

Terri nodded and then thought back to that night not so long ago when she'd had the
strangest feeling that she was being watched. "I think my house is bugged."

Stiles looked stricken but he wouldn't put it past John-boy to have been watching Terri's
every waking – and sleeping – mood. "I'll pick up some equipment on my way back."

The particulars discussed, they lapsed into silence again. Terri's French braid was
walking out and soft tendrils of hair framed her face and fell into her shadowed eyes.
"It's still early out," Stiles began, tucking a strand behind her ear. "You look exhausted;
you should try to get some more sleep."

"What about you?" she asked.

"I'm fine."

Terri's eyes narrowed. "You're exhausted, too. Admit it, Stiles."

"I'll be *fine*. Go get some sleep. I'll grab a shower and head to the office."

Terri knew pushing would only lead to a wall being thrown up so she nodded in
compliance and headed upstairs to her son's bedroom.

Stiles sighed heavily. How the hell was he going to get himself out of this mess now?

*~*~*~*~*~*

He'd actually dawdled over breakfast – dry whole-wheat toast and a cup of black coffee –
before he went upstairs to grab a shower. As he passed Alex's bedroom, he couldn't help
but push the partially closed door open. Both Alex and Terri were fast asleep – Terri
spooning her son's body, one arm around his waist and her chin resting against his baby-
fine dark hair. As he looked at them, he felt that fierce protective lion that resides within
every good man with a family, roaring. He'd be damned if John-boy hurt his family again
– he'd see his 'friend' in hell before he let that happen again.

Now, he'd just stepped out of the shower and pulled on his underwear and his jeans and
was towel-drying his hair as he stepped from the steamy bathroom into the hall when
Alex's bedroom door opened and Terri popped into the hall.

Stiles' hand paused in mid-stroke as Terri abruptly paused when she realized she and
Alex were not alone as expected. They took silent stock of one another and Terri could
curse herself for the tingling awareness that pooled low in her stomach at the sight of
him. But what red-blooded woman wouldn't when six feet of delectable half-naked Celt
God was standing before you? She could feel the flush rising in her cheeks again and she
looked away before memories of how just delectable he was started barreling through her
mind.

"I need to use the bathroom," she finally spoke up resuming her short walk to the
bathroom.

Her words snapped Stiles from his temporary stupor and he dropped his arm. "Sure," he
stepped aside but not soon enough as she just brushed against him, all soft curves and soft
cotton, as she popped past him into the bathroom and closed the door in his face.

Thank God she was going home today!

*~*~*~*~*~*

If the guards were surprised to see him come into the office that morning, they did a good
job of hiding it. Stiles kept his trademark stoic, calm and aloof military bearing as he
headed towards the elevators and pressed for the floor to OTS. He was hoping Lex was
the one who'd drawn the short straw again for weekend duty; it would be easier to bully
him into keeping his mouth shut. Joshua, on the other hand, would be a damn sight harder
to 'coerce' or to fool.

Lady Luck was, fortunately, with him for, as the elevator doors slid open, he caught sight
of the brown-haired man slumped over his desk amidst a myriad of Styrofoam coffee cups.
Stiles smirked; this would be easier than he thought.

"Lex!" Stiles purposefully banged against the metal table, causing the assortment of cups
to jump with the jolt.

The tech's head snapped up and he looked like a dear caught in the headlights as he tried
to establish firstly, where the hell he was and secondly, who had woken him up.

Stiles, aiding him in his efforts, waved a hand before the younger man's face and Lex
blinked rapidly, bringing his blurred vision to focus enough to recognize the man
standing before him. "Stiles?" he asked incredulously. "What time is it?" he asked,
looking down at his watch. His stomach flip-flopped and trying to read the tiny numbers
in the dial threatened to give him one hell of a headache.

"Seven-thirty," Stiles supplied before launching right in. "Listen, Lex, I need a favour." He took
the small vial from his pocket and set it on the table before him.

Lex's nose wrinkled as he looked at the suspicious orange liquid that looked strangely
like – "Is that what I think it is?" he asked.

"Probably. Listen, I need to get this analysed, ASAP."

"This isn't a lab, Stiles. Why don't you just go downstairs and get it…." He trailed off at
the fire that suddenly became lit behind Stiles' eyes. "Right!" he sped on, snatching up
the vial. "A couple hours fine?" Stiles' eyes narrowed. "One hour it is!"

Stiles smiled tightly and for a second Lex thought he strangely resembled Quinn.
"*Perfect*."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Forty-five minutes later, Lex strode back to his desk to find Stiles wearing holes in the
carpet pacing back and forth. Hearing the tech approach Stiles lifted a questioning brow,
not wanting to appear too eager.

"Well," began Lex, peering down at the graphs on the toxicology report, "you've got
your average stomach contents, they probably had chicken and potatoes for dinner and
whoever it is eats far too much candy… all the sugar…" he trailed off at Stiles' look.
"Right, everything appears normal except for this," he pointed it out to the other man.
"That's tripropylbutanoate - TPB."

"Speak English, Lex," growled Stiles.

"Well, Stiles, in small amounts, it makes a person relaxed and unresponsive; it's
sometimes used as a sedative for children with a medium to severe hyperactive disorder.
But in large amounts, for example the amount this person ingested, it can practically wipe
a person's memory. It's a mob weapon; highly effective I believe… forced amnesia for
the twenty-first century. Sure beats being clobbered over the head with a baseball bat."

"Lex!"

Lex immediately stopped his babbling. "So, yeah…. This thing, you can't just pick up off
the street. It needs to be prescribed and only by a neurological specialist."

"Is it dangerous?" Stiles asked, holding his breath and hoping for the best.

Lex shrugged. "Only side-effects from prolonged use are dizziness and runny-noses. For
excessive use, it can cause indigestion and vomiting and of course, there's the memory
loss. Other than that, it's relatively safe."

Stiles released a relief breath and snatched the paper from Lex's hand. "Thanks, Lex. Hey
I gotta go. Mind keeping this on the downlow?"

"Sure," replied a baffled Lex. "Mind me asking who –"

By that time, Stiles had already sprinted away from the room.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"TPB?" asked Terri incredulously. "Isn't that a sedative?" she whispered in continuation.

"Yeah," Stiles replied, shoving his hands further into the pockets of his leather jacket.
They were standing beneath a shady oak tree in the park just a block from Stiles'
apartment, just one set of parents keeping a watchful eye on their son as he played in the
sandbox with a few other children his age. "But Lex said the amount Alex ingested was
enough to wipe his memory."

"Yes," Terri replied in relief. "TPB is a 21st century drug fortunately – no dangerous side-
effects."

They lapsed into silence, watching as their son laughed with other children, oblivious to
the turmoil his parents' life was in.

"This relief we feel… it's only going to be short-lived isn't it?" asked Terri tremulously.

Stiles turned to the mother of his son. He felt that familiar tug on his heartstrings as he
looked down into her face. He gathered her closer to his side, seeking to give her some of
his strength. "Not if I have anything to do with it."

TBC…

A/N: Well, what did you think? Enjoyed? Well, drop me a line to let me know, you know
I practically live for those things. BTW: I have no idea what tripropylbutanoate is - I made it up, lol.