Chapter 10
Don looked up from the paperwork he had to finish before the weekend, surprised.
Since taking over as Assistant Director, he had moved his office to a former conference room just off the bullpen and maintained an open-door policy to the Agents. Others still had to schedule appointments with his secretary, who continued to work on the Administrative floor, but the Agents always had direct-access. Even so, he and Archie had managed to steer relatively clear of each other since he'd had her in the office a few weeks ago. He hadn't heard any bad reports about her work, and he knew he had no place in whatever she and Charlie were doing to each other.
Now, though, she stood in the door, paper in hand. Maybe David had sent her in with something he wanted Don to see.
"Agent Travis."
"Assistant Director, a moment of your time?"
"Of course." He indicated the chair in front of his desk. She came closer, but did not sit down. She placed the paper in front of him. He looked at it, then quickly back at her.
It was a request for transfer.
"I…I was under the impression that you enjoyed working in the L.A. office."
"I have, Assistant Director. I hate to leave my team. But I've found that it's…necessary to make a clean start in another location. I know this will take some time, and there are others on the transfer list ahead of me. I want you to know I'll take the first opening. I have no geographical preference."
Don picked up the piece of paper. He laid it back down, again. "As Assistant Director of this office, I'll be sorry to lose a good agent. But you have the right to make this request, and I will process the transfer, Agent Travis."
"Thank-you, sir." Archie turned to leave. Don stood quickly and rounded the desk, followed her into the corridor.
"We're not in my office anymore," he said quietly behind her, and she stopped, but did not turn around. "As your brother-in-law, I want to ask you to give this more time. You guys rushed into marriage. Don't rush out of it, too."
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Charlie sat in the lightest place in the bar, at the bar itself, and contemplated the drink before him.
When he had received Archie's last e-mail, just before Alan picked him up for dinner, he had been shocked. Had she made her decision already?
Then, Don had joined them in the restaurant, and he was definitely avoiding direct eye contact with Charlie. It could be anything. A case. Wanting to ask for Charlie's help on a case, and trying to keep himself from doing it, yet. Assistant Director paperwork. Something non-work related, even. It could be anything, it didn't have to be about him and Archie.
But he caught the looks, when Don thought he wasn't paying attention, and somehow, he just thought it was.
He should be feeling better about things. The first week of his new schedule had gone well. He was already sure he would be able to handle two classes next session. So he should be happy. Instead, he was sitting in a bar at 10 o'clock on a Friday night, staring at a drink.
He took a sip and saw her reflection in the mirror behind the bar as she approached him. She was beautiful. Stunning. She carried herself as if she knew that. She wasn't tall, but was wearing a short skirt, and had the most incredible legs he had ever seen.
She was next to him then, indicating the stool beside him. "Is this seat taken?"
He shook his head and looked into blue eyes. Even in the dim light of the bar, he could see that.
She settled on the stool and crossed her legs. She looked at his drink and smiled. "You're kidding. You came to a hotel bar for a chocolate milkshake?"
He smiled back. "I wanted the atmosphere. Besides, bartenders make great milkshakes. It's the blending technique, I think."
She looked at the cast on his arm. "Broken?"
He regarded it contemplatively. "Not exactly. Did you know there are physical therapies you can do, even while you're still in a cast?"
She shook her head. "No. But I'll bet they hurt."
He shrugged. "It's better. I'm hoping to lose this, next week. Or at least downgrade."
"May I?" She suddenly reached over and slid the milkshake down the bar so that it was in front of her. She leaned over and took the straw into her mouth. A lock of hair loosened and blocked her face from his view, but he heard her make a low sound of appreciation in her throat, saw her tilt her head back and close her eyes. He swallowed at the same time she did.
She pushed the glass back and his hands clutched convulsively around it.
"You're right," she purred. "That's good. What sort of work do you do? I'm in…customer relations."
His grip tried to tighten on the sweaty glass, and he stammered a little. "I…I…I teach," he finally said lamely.
She reached out suddenly and touched his face, so lightly that he could barely feel it; so lightly that he couldn't feel anything else. Her fingers slowly traced his jawline and slid off his face. She stepped off the stool and leaned into him, spoke breathily into his ear.
"I have a room upstairs. In case you're interested."
She walked away from him.
Charlie slid off the stool and followed.
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The sex was fierce, and primal, and when it was over, and they lay facing each other in the bed, Charlie reached out a hand and brushed a damp lock of hair off a sweaty forehead and smiled.
"I've missed you, Archimedes."
Her smile in return was so infinitely sad that he felt his own fade. "As long as one of us pretends to be someone else and we're having hot hotel monkey sex, we seem to be all-right," she said coldly. She rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed. She continued speaking with her back to him. "We both deserve better than that, don't you think?"
She stood and walked naked into the bathroom, came back out fully clothed a few minutes later. He had rolled over to face the opposite direction, and hugged the pillow to him. "I requested a transfer today. To anywhere." He heard her heels clicking, muffled against the carpet, and heard the door open. "Lock the door when you leave," she said.
He lay there, disgusted with his own body for bringing him here.
He lay there, and knew that it wasn't just that Archimedes didn't really know him, he obviously hadn't known her, either.
He lay there, and wished that the bullets had killed him, swift, and sure.
He lay there, and muffled his sobs with the pillow.