Show: The Agency

Title: The American Family

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TAF… YOU'RE ONE YEAR OLD!!!

A/N: Thanks for last chapter's comments. I apologise for the delay, by now you should
be more shocked by early postings than late ones. Don't forget to review!

To note: I live in the Caribbean, so I have no idea how far behind Virginia is from
Barbados, so I'm saying one hour, meaning that Irish time will be just about five hours in
front of Virginia. I have absolutely no idea what colour Joshua's eyes are, so I guessed.
CIA Headquarters is in Langley, right? Is that an actual city or what?

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Hey."

Stiles looked to up to see Terri poised at the threshold of his small kitchen. It was just
after seven, but she was already dressed for work. Stiles hid a small smile of appreciation
as he took in her cream coloured slacks and lilac shirt with tiny cap sleeves. Her wavy
hair was tamed into a bun at the nape of her neck, a far cry from the messy French braid
it had employed for the most of the weekend.

It was Monday now and inwardly he frowned, thinking of the hard week that was sure to
come.

"Morning," he replied, lifting up his coffee mug. "Coffee?"

"Sure." Terri ambled further into the immaculate kitchen and poured herself a cup of
coffee. He'd already dressed for work – long-sleeved Tee, jeans and boots – and was
flipping through the morning paper. As she took a sip of the surprisingly good java, her
mind took her back to how they'd gotten to this point.

After leaving the park, he had driven her and Alex back to their house. The moment she
stepped through the door, the feeling of uneasiness that had bothered her before had
developed into a full-fledged plague. She had visibly begun to shake and felt like retching
when, after he'd sent Alex up to his room, he'd found the first bug nestled between the
folds of the curtains.

It didn't take a genius to know that there were plenty more where that one had come from
and his decision had been spontaneous: "Pack a bag," he'd said. "You two are staying
with me."

Just over twelve hours later, they were undertaking their first exercise in twenty-first
century domesticity.

"How'd you sleep?" Stiles asked, struggling to make small talk.

"Ok," she answered. Truthfully, she hadn't slept more than two hours at a time, waking
up more than once choking on a maternal instinct of wondering if her child was all right.
A.B.2 had slept on blissfully unaware as Terri lay spooned behind him listening to the
steadiness of his breathing and inhaling the sweet scent of his shampoo. This morning
when she'd taken a look at her drawn and pale face she'd given thanks to the wonderful
invention of concealer.

Stiles nodded, knowing she was lying but probably not wanting to give testament to the
fact.

For some reason, her conscience wouldn't let it rest at that. "No, that's a lie."

Stiles arched a brow. "I figured as much."

Terri smiled ruefully. "What about you?" she asked softly.

Stiles pursed his lips in thought. He hadn't gotten much sleep either. "The same."

Terri heaved a huge sigh as Stiles drained his coffee cup.

"You want some breakfast?" he asked, looking pointedly to the fridge. "I went to the
market," he continued, reaching for the pot and pouring himself another.

Terri shook her head, just short of wrinkling her nose. The thought of food made her want
to vomit. "Coffee's fine."

The two continued in silence, Stiles pretending to be interested in the sports section of the
newspaper, Terri slowly sipping her coffee, drawing warmth from the heat radiating off
the mug. After about ten minutes of silence, Terri checked her watch; it was just after
seven-thirty. "I should go wake Alex up for school."

"I can do that, Terri," Stiles started to say.

"No!"

Stiles' eyes widened at her outburst and Terri just barely managed to set the mug on the
countertop before it slipped from her weakened fingers. "God!" she exclaimed, burying
her face in her hands. Stiles stood up and, grasping her by her shoulders, pulled her into
the shelter of his arms.

"Shhh, Terri," he crooned softly, stroking the wispy hairs at the nape of her neck. "It's all
right," he continued, not knowing where this sudden ability to give her comfort had come
from. Cupping Terri's face, Stiles wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes. Her lips
wobbled and the tears streamed more profusely.

Not knowing what governed his actions, Stiles pressed a kiss to her forehead and then to
each corner of her eyes, drinking her tears. In the midst of her breakdown Terri could feel
the tingling awareness of her truest femininity that always arose when she was around
him.

She sighed softly as Stiles kissed the tip of her nose and instinctively, her lips lifted to
his. Stiles' rapidly darkening blue eyes questioned Terri's equally turbulent brown eyes;
his head slowly dipped to accept her unspoken invitation. Light as a butterfly, Stiles' lips
brushed over Terri's tasting the saltiness of her lingering tears. His lips lingered over hers
for a few seconds, enjoying the supple softness of the flesh until he slowly pulled away,
millimeters at a time, their breath mingling until they hovered scant inches above hers.

Terri drew in a shaky breath. It had lasted less than ten seconds in total, but the warmth of
his large callused fingers cupping her face, and the latent power of his fleeting kiss had
her knees quaking and forgetting her name. Stiles pressed another gentle kiss to her
forehead and, drawing on the force of will that halted from committing the sheer lunacy
of grabbing her and kissing her senseless, stepped away.

Stiles cleared his throat as a blush crept up Terri's neck to her cheeks.

"I'll go wake up Alex now," she muttered turning tail and hurrying from the kitchen.

*~*~*~*~*~*

CIA Headquarters (10 a.m.)

Terri absentmindedly twirled the silver pen expertly between her fingers as she stared
unseeingly at her computer screen.

Joshua, noticing her distraction, called out. "Ms. Lowell?"

No response.

Joshua frowned. This was unlike Terri. He reached out and touched her shoulder lightly.
"Terri?"

At the touch of his hand on her shoulder Terri started, unnecessary fear gripping her
system. She was filled with a sudden seemingly foolish urge to scream but, realizing who
had touched her, she visibly relaxed. "Joshua…."

Joshua's frown deepened. "Are you ok?" he asked, knowing something was not quite
right.

Terri's eyes dropped from his shrewdly assessing gaze. "Just a little distracted."

**And more than a little freaked out.** his mind couldn't help but add. "Are you getting
enough sleep?" he asked, his eyes taking note of the violet crescents under her eyes; her
concealer hadn't done as great a job as she'd hoped.

For some reason, Terri didn't hold her tongue. "Not really," she replied, heaving a heavy
sigh. "I've been losing sleep worrying over this Sumac Cell catastrophe," she continued with the half-lie.

Joshua's lips flattened as he regarded the woman who he loved like a daughter. He didn't believe what she said about the Sumac Cell entirely. Terri was off her rocker a bit, not in a crazy unbalanced way, but that special light that shone in her
eyes had noticeably dimmed. "Tell you what, why don't you take the rest of the day off, huh?"

"What?" Terri practically sputtered. "I only just got here," she continued, knowing
without even looking at her watch that it wasn't even eleven o'clock yet.

"No, Ms. Lowell, your body's here; your mind's probably still at home sleeping. You've
not been much of a help this morning. Go home, get some sleep. You look like you need
it. I promise I wont tell Quinn."

Terri's brown eyes met Joshua's gray ones. The concern she saw swimming there was
touching. She could feel her pride egging her to refuse his offer to go home and buckle
down and do some work. But, heavens, she was tired! So fricking tired. "I'm not so sure
that's a good idea…."

Joshua smiled tightly and squeezed her shoulder. "Bright and early tomorrow, Ms.
Lowell."

Terri tiredly returned her supervisor's smile. "Of course." She settled her purse over her
shoulder and headed for the door where she paused. "Thanks, Joshua," she said softly.

Joshua's back was turned to her and he impatiently waved her off.

Terri smiled; it was nice to know he cared.

*~*~*~*~*~*

(half an hour later)

Stiles stuck his head through the door of OTS and scanned the office. His eyes landed on
Lex and Joshua and a few other nameless techs hunched over their workstations but
Terri's terminal was empty.

"Hey, Lex," he called. "Have you seen Terri?"

Lex opened his mouth to answer but Joshua cut him off.

"I sent her home earlier, Mr. Stiles," Joshua said, coming towards the other man.

"Is something wrong?" Stiles asked, his mind jumping to worst-case scenarios especially
after the weekend's events.

"She looked tired, distracted. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" he
asked pointedly, lifting a silver eyebrow.

It was funny, Stiles had been a Marine for over fifteen years, a CIA Operative for over
five, had undergone high-jackings, interrogations and sustained numerous gunshot
wounds and he quaked under the knowing gaze of a fifty-something techie like a fifteen-
year-old-boy waiting on the door step to take a girl out on her first date.

"Haven't a clue," he managed to mutter before turning tail and heading back to his office.

Joshua frowned as he watched the former Marine beat a hasty retreat across the bullpen
and slam the door to his office shut. He had seen the lingering glances they, meaning
Stiles and Terri, had shot to each other when they'd stepped off the elevator… together.

Something was up.

But, why did he have a funny feeling it extended far beyond a rekindled affair?

*~*~*~*~*~*

(Ireland, 4:00 p.m. GMT)

Gavin Thompson closed the door behind him and heaved a huge sigh as he loosened the
cutthroat silk tie around his neck.

"Still don' like 'em, eh?"

Gavin didn't start at the sound of the familiar voice although he'd thought he'd been
alone in his private domain. A wry smile came to his face as he started towards the
shadows by his huge oak desk and the source of the question.

"D'ye even have t'ask?" he replied, slipping into his much preferred brogue.

Jonathan O'Brien stepped from the shadows and smiled at his PM.

"Yer blonde again," Gavin quipped, shrugging off his dark blue jacket and tossing it over
a chair. "Scotch?"

John-boy nodded his head and accepted a crystal tumbler when it was handed to him,
knowing this was a precursor delaying the inevitable.

Gavin Thompson was a shrewd man; he couldn't have not been and been elected PM of
the still hostile Northern Ireland. He turned sharp blue eyes on his visitor and lifted a
graying eyebrow.

John-boy had spent enough time in his company to know when he'd been given
permission to speak. "I've isolated th' threat?"

Both eyebrows shot up. "Have you?" Useless question. He knew John-boy wouldn't have
said anything if he hadn't. "And?"

"It was as ye'd suspected."

Thompson's eyes narrowed. "Hmmmm." He took another sip of his scotch. He didn't
relish dealing personally with these matters; or being involved in them at all. "What d'ye
inten' t'do?"

John-boy resisted the urge to roll his eyes and ask sarcastically, "What d'ye think?"
Instead, he replied. "We've found a way."

"Does it include a certain blue-eyed CIA Agent?" Gavin asked.

John-boy's silence was answer enough.

Gavin had seen the dossier on Stiles; had seen him whilst he was on duty protecting that
scumbag Archer. He'd known John-boy and he had shared some history, he could only
guess the extent of this relationship. "Are ye goin' to have the Agent kill Archer?"

"Who else would ye have do it?"

It was a slip of the tongue. They both knew that there were countless persons they could
call on to do the job. Gavin just couldn't understand what was to be gained by having
Stiles do the dirty job.

"Is this personal?" he asked pointedly.

"Of course, Archer is scum hiding behind good intentions. He doesn't deserve to live."

"I wasn't speaking about Archer, John-boy." John-boy's answer practically confirmed all
he'd thought.

John-boy thought long and hard choosing his words carefully. "Part of it *is* personal.
But I'm a professional, Gavin. There's always more than one part to plan A," he said
cryptically.

*~*~*~*~*~*

She still couldn't sleep.

So she sat perched on a bench facing a swing set on the other side of the street clutching a
warm Styrofoam cup of lemon-honey tea between her knees. She smiled absentmindedly
at the shrieks of joyous laughter of the children.

"Hey," came a voice next to her ear.

The voice sent shivers down on her spine. She compulsively took a deep sip before she
looked up to see Stiles blue eyes staring down at her. "Hey," she shakily replied.

Stiles sat next to her, his eyes straying to the other side of the street, watching what she
was watching. "What's wrong, Terri?" he asked after a few more minutes of silence
between them as pedestrians passed them by.

She tried to swallow the huge lump that suddenly became lodged in her throat. She turned
to him, his blue eyes swimming with concern for her; a look she'd not seen for so long
and, despite all the pain that came associated with letting herself feel for those blue eyes,
she felt oddly comforted. "Everything," she replied. "But you can always make it better,"
she continued, before she lifted her mouth and fused her lips to his.

TBC…

A/N: I know many of you are saying… FINALLY, lol. I hope you enjoyed. Don't forget
to drop me a line or two to let me know what you're thinking.