"I've seen a lot," Griffin said, "Been through a lot. But I have never been that scared in my entire life." Griffin laughed dryly, "He was – dangerous." He had a look on his face that expressed the irony of the last statement. Anyone would think that of any member of their organization, but the fact that Griffin thought so….
Lex was sitting across from Griffin, each on their respective couches. Each of the men had a glass of scotch and they were sitting in relaxed positions. One looked far more comfortable than the other.
"This Bishop…" Lex led. The man sounded like a tyrant. He couldn't believe that Rhone talked about him like he was some kind of saint.
Griffin took his cue, "Things with Bishop were…. Normally, Bishop was a good guy. When things were good – which was a majority of the time, they were really good. …But when they were bad, they were really bad. He did his job well – almost to a fault."
"You followed him," Lex pointed out. He wondered why there was never some sort of mutiny.
"It was rare that Bishop got – angry or disappointed. He always won. He had very high expectations and was very accustomed to them being fulfilled," Griffin started.
Lex could tell that Griffin was either picturing the man or having some memory that heavily involved him.
Griffin continued, "He was charismatic and a brilliant tactician. He was like Rhone – could see so many moves ahead…. He was like Rhone in a lot of ways, but so different. …Well, I guess technically, Rhone would be like him."
Lex didn't like that statement. Was Rhone that kind of person when she wasn't around him? No, he wouldn't believe that. She wasn't that cold person she pretended to be for cops. Lex tilted his head to indicate that Griffin should elaborate on that last statement.
"They both had loyalty in way, Bishop led in a way that I really can't explain. Maybe everyone was just fascinated by what he was capable of. Rhone leads more through trust – faith – friendship even. I really can't explain that either," Griffin thought about that for a moment and smiled, "I never thought things could be like they are now. I woke up to a klaxon everyday for most of my life…"
More than once Griffin had mentioned his life. Lex asked, "How long have you been doing this kind of work?"
Griffin leaned forward and set his glass on the coffee table between them. He grabbed the rim of the glass and turned it a little, watching the way the light was refracted on its surface. "I thought you wanted to hear about how I met Rhone?" Griffin avoided the question.
"You have yet to mention actually meeting her," Lex pointed out.
"Well, I needed some set up," Griffin smiled, "Besides, this part of the story – I wasn't really there for. It's kind of what people told me – people that were there."
Lex grabbed Griffin's glass as well as his own as he stood. He made his way over to the decanter of scotch. "It seems like everything regarding her is a story," Lex said – more to himself than his companion. He was about to pour more alcohol into his glass but thought better of it. He picked up both glasses and the decanter before he headed back to his couch.
"More like an epic," Griffin said under his breath, but loud enough to be heard.
Bink, bink, bink, the noise was repetitive.
"What is that, D?" Rhone looked away from the screen she and Bishop were studying.
D pressed a few buttons, "…Oh, shit."
The noise stopped suddenly. Rhone got up and went over to D's monitor.
"Rhone, we are in the middle of something," Bishop pointed out. He had been training her on the system, specifically how to set up a red flag. He slowly turned in his chair to look at her back.
"Bishop," D began, "There was a distress call from the R-9." D tapped a few more buttons, "I couldn't get a lock. It disappeared over the desert."
"That's ours, right, Bishop?" Rhone asked as she turned to face him. Her face looked concerned.
"Who was on it, D?" Bishop stood.
"As far as I know, just Griff – he was the last one there," D informed him as he turned in his chair.
"So, what are we going to do to save him?" Rhone asked.
"We aren't doing anything," Bishop emphasized the word we. He had told her more than once that she couldn't do anything along those lines until she was put on the active roster. She was too new to be doing that sort of thing, despite the fact that she trained faster than anyone he had ever seen – including himself.
Rhone inhaled deeply, "Ok, what are you doing to save him?" She emphasized the word you. She understood there were rules and protocols to be followed, despite the fact that she knew she was ready – had been ready.
Bishop's face got hard – like he was recalling something that displeased him. "Nothing," he said simply. At the look on Rhone's face he continued, "If the plane went down, there's nothing we can do."
"Yeah, but if there was a distress call, maybe it was a controlled decent…." she started.
"Acceptable losses, Rhone. Get used to it – shit happens," Bishop raised the volume of his voice slightly.
"Am I missing something? Isn't he one of our guys?" she turned to D.
D looked at Bishop and looked down, "He's the one you haven't met."
"He probably didn't survive," Bishop said. He pointed to D's monitor that displayed the last known coordinates of the R-9, "And if he did, the desert has him now."
"Deploy a fucking plane. What the hell is wrong with you?" she said forcefully.
"All of our transports are deployed!" his voice was getting louder.
D was attempting to blend in with his ops console. Don't argue with him, Rhone…
"And you can't get another military transport? As the highest person in The United States Military, that gives you access to, what, a Volvo and a squirt gun?" she stood her ground.
"This discussion is over! My orders are final!" Bishop spun around and left a chill in his wake as he made a loud exit. No one ever disagreed with him.
D looked at the woman that was left in the room with him, almost in awe. Rhone waited a moment with a look on her face that indicated she wasn't afraid or even moved by Bishop's anger. But she had never been sent to the hole… Actually, she was extremely lucky she wasn't there right now. …It was unbelievable that she wasn't.
There was a swift knock on her door. Thalia turned from looking in the mirror to the door, "Come in."
She never thought she would see Rhone Chade walk through her door, not after what happened. But she did. She also closed it behind herself, indicating that she was going to stay a while – or just didn't want to chance being overheard.
Thalia was immediately defensive, "What?" She turned back to the mirror, and looked at the evening gown she was in. Perhaps she should go brunette with this one.
"I need your help," Rhone said.
Thalia looked at the other woman in her mirror. "I thought you had some kind of problem with the way I do things?" she said with more than a little distaste.
"You'll either help me help your lover or you won't," Rhone returned, "Just decide; I've got shit to do."
Thalia felt like she had just done a shot of liquid nitrogen but kept her demeanor steady, "Lover? What are you talking about?" She had had so much practice with this – denial.
"I see the looks you get when people talk about this Griffin guy – the way your posture changes. It's hardly there, but it is. You must be used to hiding it – not that I can blame you," Rhone was obviously talking about Bishop.
Thalia cracked. She turned around and walked towards Rhone, "If you tell my father about us…!" How did she know?
"I don't care about your little – whatever it is. Are you going to help me?" she asked again in a flat voice.
It occurred to Thalia for the first time that Rhone had mentioned Griffin needed help. She was so blinded by her wounded pride, by Rhone Chade, by the way she -- that she didn't even realize what she was asking. "What happened to Griffin?" she asked, worry taking over. …If something happened to him…
"Finally, we're getting somewhere," Rhone began, "Your father has put a freeze on anything we could assume control over easily and in the amount of time we have." Bishop knew her – how she would react to his decision to not help Griffin.
"What do you mean?" Thalia asked.
Rhone shook her head, not in the mood for story time, "I need you to do what you do best."