Three.
They don't think she's sane enough. Good enough. Trustworthy enough. Maybe that's the worst part too. That she did all this for her country, her Agency, and they say thanks but no thanks.
She gets a generous severance package and a plane ticket out of D.C. It's implied that she shouldn't return.
"Mr. Michaels, what is your overall opinion on Operative Anne Walker?"
"Annie. Her name is Annie," Calder countered seriously.
"What is your overall opinion on Operative Annie Walker?"
"Sir, we have been here all day. I have already told you this once and I will tell you this until my dying breath: Annie Walker is the most capable agent I have ever encountered. Yes, her methods are unconventional, but that is what makes her so good," Calder sighed in annoyance.
He had been in Polygraph for several hours now, and all the bronze haired Poly Tech wanted to know was what went down in Hong Kong and his thoughts on Annie Walker. It seemed that after being dark for so long, not many at the Agency believed she still had the ability to be a good enough spy for the CIA. Total bullshit, in Calder's high opinion, because Annie singlehandedly took down a terrorist inside the ranks of the CIA, when she herself wasn't even inside the CIA. Or reportedly alive, for that matter.
"Yes, you did mention that before. Now we will move in to questions that should be answered with a simple affirmative or negative. Do you think she's ready to come back in from the cold?"
"She's hardly coming in from the cold, you know. She is coming back from the dead. I, personally, have never had the pleasure of experiencing that. Have you?" Calder quipped with a pointed look at the tech.
"Do you think she's ready to come back from the dead?" The tech clarified with an edge of exasperation, the first hint of emotion that this man had shown all day.
"Whether or not she's ready, she's coming back. But I do believe she is ready, yes. Annie Walker can roll with the punches with the best of them."
"Would you work with her again?"
"In a heartbeat," Calder affirmed.
"So, yes?"
"Yes," Calder drew out and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.
"Do you trust the lives of your other operatives in the hands of Operative Annie Walker?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe she is physically capable of returning?"
"Well, she didn't go blind, but it's not like the CIA has a tendency to turn away capable operatives," Calder glared pointedly again.
"Mrs. Campbell, you have been overseeing Operative Walker since she began at the Agency, correct?"
"Yes." Joan knew how these polygraphs would go. If she answered them with a solid 'yes' or 'no', they usually went a lot quicker. Of course, she had had her fair share of angry quips, snarky comments, and outright lies with the Polygraph folks, but in this case, she just wanted to get the whole ordeal over with as quickly as possible.
"There was a period of time where Operative Walker was under Lena Smith, correct?"
"Yes."
"Lena Smith turned out to be a double agent, correct?"
"What are you implying?" Joan's voice lowered with a dangerous edge.
"Answer the question, ma'am."
"Yes, Lena Smith was a double agent for the Russians."
"So, it wouldn't be too out of line to wonder if Operative Walker picked up any of the associations or behaviors of Lena Smith–" Joan swore she saw the Poly Tech smirk– "correct?"
"No," Joan ground out.
"No?" The Poly Tech raised his eyebrow skeptically.
"No, as in you are wrong. It would be out of line to wonder if Operative Walker picked up any of the associations or behaviors of Lena Smith. It is way the fuck out of line. Annie is not a traitor. She did what she had to do to keep Henry Wilcox from destroying even more of the CIA."
"She was dark for a while. She probably had to do some things that the CIA, and the American government, would frown upon."
"That wasn't a question, correct?" Joan snarled at him.
"Do you trust Operative Walker?"
"With my life. With my husband's life. With my son's life. Yes," Joan tried in vain to suppress the anger that must have been visible on her face.
"That's pretty deep trust. You would trust Operative Walker with your newborn son's life?"
"Absolutely."
"Would you trust her with the deepest secrets of America?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe she will be easily swayed? Say, to turn in to the next Lena Smith?"
"Annie Walker is not a traitor."
"But could she become one?"
"Mr. Anderson, do you believe Operative Annie Walker is mentally and emotionally capable of returning?"
"Yes."
"Are you absolutely sure?"
"Check the fucking polygraph line. Yes, I'm absolutely sure," Auggie snapped.
"Do you believe Operative Annie Walker will be impeded by her PTSD?"
"Who said she had PTSD?" All of Auggie's training came into play at that moment. He knew his microexpressions would be monitored for any sort of reaction.
PTSD allegations were serious. Any operative who returns from extended operations were checked and rechecked to ensure mental stability. If they didn't pass muster, they didn't return to field work, possibly not at all. PTSD was a big red flag against returning to field work, in the CIA world.
"Answer the question with a yes or no."
"I'm not answering that question because I do not have proof that Annie has PTSD."
"She does."
"Was that a question?" Auggie mocked and forced himself to stay seated. It would only be worse for all of them if he let his emotions get the best of him. So, until he was dismissed, he could only dream of flipping the polygraph table and storming out of the room.
"Fine. We can move on. Do you believe Operative Annie Walker can be trusted?"
"Yes," Auggie muttered between grinding teeth.
"What is the nature of your relationship with Operative Walker?"
"Professional."
"Really?"
"Am I lying?" Auggie almost smiled; he could beat a polygraph in his sleep. But this time he was mostly telling the truth. They had no personal relationship, the last time he checked. So, technically, yes, they were professional together.
"The polygraph does not indicate that you are lying. In that case, let's proceed as if you are telling the truth."
"Because I am telling the truth," Auggie actually smiled genially in the direction of the Poly Tech at this.
"What would happen if Operative Walker were to return to the CIA?"
"If?" Auggie spit out in disbelief. "Is there any doubt that Annie can return? Where the hell is this doubt coming from?"
"Answer the question to the fullest details, please, Mr. Anderson."
"Answer mine first," Auggie contended defiantly.
"That's not how this works, and I believe you know that. What would happen if Operative Walker were to return to the CIA?"
"The Agency would re-gain a useful, resourceful, brilliant operative and we would all live happily ever after," Auggie snarked.
"And if Operative Walker were not to return to the CIA?"
"Then you're really fucking yourself over. As an Agency, not just you personally. But you can personally go fuck yourself."
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Anderson. You are dismissed."
Auggie forcibly ripped off the necessary nodes and tubes strapped to him and stalked out of the room and into the nearest bathroom. Auggie didn't bother to pull the punch he launched into the wall in the men's bathroom on the floor of Polygraph. The resounding crack of his fist through the drywall did nothing to alleviate his anger.
This was bullshit. All of this was bullshit.
Annie walked out of the office of the Director of the CIA in a daze. She knew logically that she would have to speak to him eventually, but she expected something a little less shitty. A lot less shitty. In fact, in the scenarios she expected, getting a generous severance package and a plane ticket out of D.C. was not even in the top ten of possible scenarios.
Annie was so absorbed in her thoughts that she ran almost square into Calder's chest. He steadied her with his hands on her shoulders. "Walk you out?" he offered. She just shrugged.
"Take it you know all about this, huh?" Annie half-heartedly waved the ticket voucher. It had explicit instructions to leave the city limits by midnight tonight. Three hours. It could go national or international, the Director explained. How kind of the CIA to give her a choice in her own exile location.
"Annie, this isn't how I wanted things to turn out. You know that, right?" Calder murmured carefully.
"I know. I know you did everything you could," Annie replied, any emotions carefully removed from her voice. "Thanks, for that. Thanks for everything, Calder."
"Do you want to say goodbye..." Calder trailed off uncertainly. "I know that ticket voucher says you need to get out of D.C. by tonight at midnight, but maybe I can–"
"No," Annie asserted. "No, my affairs are in order. I've been dead for months, Calder. There's nothing here for me anymore."
Calder disagreed with this. But he was smart enough, or selfish enough, to keep these thoughts to himself. Blatant disagreement with the higher-ups wouldn't be good for anyone. He cleared his throat, suddenly thick with emotions. "Take care, Walker. Wherever you are, take care of yourself. Thank you for your service with the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States of America."
Annie nodded, blinked away the sudden mist in her eyes, and adjusted her duffle bag on her shoulder. She doesn't know where she's supposed to go next. But she was right. There's nothing here for her. Maybe this is the worst part too. That she did all this for her country, her Agency, and they say thanks but no thanks.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading and reviewing! I can't wait to hear your thoughts.