A/N: Thank you so much for all the positive feedback, I really appreciate it! I decided to update a little early this week, so expect the next chapter in the next few days.

This chapter does some time jumps, so just be aware of that. Enjoy!

Brenda awoke that morning with a strange feeling in her stomach. She knew she should go outside and check her mailbox, but something was holding her back.

She glanced around the rooms in her apartment, taking notice of the boxes that consumed a good majority of the floor beneath her.

The boxes were still empty, which meant she could still pack her things and move back to Atlanta.

Or she could go check her mailbox.

She decided not to do either, just for a moment. She knew what was inside of her mailbox, she just wasn't sure that she wanted it.

Someone had left instructions in her mailbox. It was probably in some sort of code that she would have to decipher, but the instructions would tell her where to go and who to look for.

They just wouldn't tell her what to expect.

Brenda decided that the first thing she needed to do was get out of bed. The last time she had made a decision in her bedroom, things didn't exactly end well for her- or him for that matter.

She really should call him. Not that she would know what to say.

Brenda walked into the kitchen, practically tripping over all of the empty boxes that were silently mocking her, and poured herself a cup of coffee. Standing on her tippy toes, Brenda reached up into the top cabinet, grabbing the bottle of honey that she kept on her top shelf.

She needed something new in her life, something exciting, something that would make her want to wake up in the morning.

Brenda picked up her cup of coffee and walked into the living room, kicking an empty box as she walked.

She decided that she had to do something with these boxes, whether it be moving them or filling them up. She just had to get them out of the way.

Brenda picked up the biggest box that her mother had sent, moving it to the far corner of the room. She picked up box after box, moving each one to the corner, and slowly clearing up her cluttered living room.

As she was moving the boxes, she realized just how happy she was that the boxes were indeed empty, that she didn't necessarily have to go back to Atlanta.

She had options.

After she had cleared all of her boxes out of the way, Brenda slipped her shoes on and walked outside. She opened her mailbox and pulled out a single piece of paper, which, to her surprise, had simple instructions.

Brenda,

Meet me today at 3 pm in the park. I'll be sitting on a bench, but if I'm right about you, which I would like to think I am, you will recognize me when you see me. Come alone, and it would be appreciated if you didn't speak of this meeting to anyone else you may be in contact with. I hope to see you soon.

A.W

Brenda must have read the piece of paper a thousand times before she retreated back into her home.

It was only noon; she still had roughly two and a half hours before she had to make an actual decision.

If there was ever a time for a ho-ho, it would be now.

Brenda opened the top cabinet, where she also kept her honey, for it was the furthest out of reach. She had learned that the only way to practice self-control was to keep sugar as far away as possible.

This sounded like a good idea at the time, but it never really worked out in the end. Whenever Brenda wanted something, she usually got it.

And that certainly wasn't limited to sugary desserts.

February 1996

Brenda sat in a cold, dark room. She had been here before, many times actually, and was familiar with the tactics that someone was about to employ on her.

There was a single light in the room, which shone through a dangling light bulb that hung from the ceiling.

Brenda watched as the light bulb swayed back and forth, waiting for it to drop to the floor and shatter around her.

She was silent as she sat, waiting patiently for someone to enter the room. She had a lot of questions, questions that she needed answers to.

This time however, she wasn't asking the questions.

She was answering them.

Brenda arrived at the park about fifteen minutes before three. She glanced around the park, trying to find this A.W character. He knew who she was, so he had to have been following her at some point.

Which means she should recognize him.

Brenda sat down on the nearest bench to her, taking another quick glance around the small park. Across from her, she noticed a man who looked to be in his late thirties, sitting on a bench with a newspaper in hand.

He wasn't reading the newspaper, simply holding the rolled up item in his hand. He had dark hair, wore glasses, and was wearing dress pants and a simple dress shirt.

He looked like a normal businessman.

Brenda thought back to everywhere she had been in the past three days, trying to place just one of the faces that she was met with in the park.

There were two other people that could be the man she was looking for. One man was seated at a picnic table, talking on his cell phone and eating what appeared to be a sandwich of some sorts. He was dressed in khaki pants, a dress shirt, and a matching tie.

The other man was walking across the pathway talking on his cell phone, but Brenda couldn't get a good enough look at him to see his actual face.

Brenda crossed her legs and continued to scan the park for a familiar face.

Then Brenda was hit with a sense of déjà vu. She glanced at the man sitting opposite from her on the bench, and went back in her mind to two days ago.

Georgetown. Graduation. The Quadrangle.

She remembered that she was not the only one who didn't enter Mass that afternoon; there was another person there.

And he was reading a newspaper, one that looked like it had been previously rolled up for a good amount of time.

She looked up once again. The man was still there, with the rolled up newspaper in hand. He was there that day, she was sure of it.

Brenda got up form the bench, slowly making her way over to him. When she was about ten steps away, the man got up from the bench and began walking along the pathway that lead to the exit of the park.

Brenda followed him.

They walked for about five minutes and were now in a fairly deserted part of the park.

"Brenda, I see you were able to follow the directions," said Andrew

" Why yes, they were fairly simple," Brenda said, halfway taking the compliment that was being offered to her.

As of right now this was her only real job offer, so she was glad that this A.W was impressed with her so far.

" I assume you know who I work for at this point."

" I have an idea, yes," said Brenda, not wanting to come off to strongly.

" The Agency likes to invest in new blood and, trust me when I say this, we need someone impartial to pull this thing off."

Brenda's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

" Pull what off, sir?" asked Brenda, not quite sure what she was getting herself into.

" Oh I can't even begin to tell you that right now. The only reason I set up this meeting was to see if you would actually come," Andrew said with a vote of confidence in his voice.

He knew she would come, people like her always did.

" What made you think I wouldn't?" asked Brenda, suddenly rethinking her position of being impressed with herself.

" I didn't say that, now did I?" said Andrew.

" Well you may as well have," Brenda scoffed.

"I like you Brenda. You have spunk. We could use someone like you," Andrew said, pausing for a moment and reaching into his pocket.

" You don't even know me, how on earth could possible think that I have, oh what did you call it, "spunk"? asked Brenda

"You have this way about you, I'm not sure how to explain it."

" Yes, well I've been told that before, and I do not take it as a compliment. So wherever your mind is going right now, I'd appreciate it if you would kindly stop it." Brenda crossed her arms.

" The point is, we'd like to use you, if you're interested."

Andrew's demeanor had changed in a matter of seconds. He seemed very focused, very determined.

This job, as this Andrew character put it, must be important.

But if it was so important, why was The CIA asking her for help?

She had just graduated from college, what could she possibly do to help them?

Andrew noticed the look of confusion that had set in on Brenda's face, prompting him to speak.

"I can't answer all of your questions now, but I promise you, they will be answered," he said.

Brenda began to dig the heel of her shoe into the ground. She was all of a sudden very nervous, almost agitated, a feeling she didn't experience very often.

She just didn't like being lied to, she never had. When she found out that Santa Claus wasn't real, did she let her parents have it. They didn't speak for an entire week.

She was eight years old at the time.

"How can I possibly trust you? You're in the CIA for heaven's sake," said Brenda, uncrossing her arms and giving off a smirk simultaneously.

" You'll learn soon enough, we're not all as bad as you think," he answered vaguely, handing her his card at the same time.

Brenda took the card from his hand, glancing at his name. Andrew Wyatt, Assistant to the Director of Clandestine Services.

Clandestine Services- maybe this was important. Brenda opened her mouth to respond, but Andrew had already begun to walk away.

Unbeknownst to Brenda, Andrew was about to confirm all of Brenda's beliefs.

That maybe you couldn't trust anyone, especially if they were in The CIA.

Sometimes, he could barely trust himself.

What had happened in these last few hours didn't quite register with Brenda until she arrived back home. She pulled Andrew's card out from her pocket, studying it until it physically pained her to continue.

Brenda took a deep breath before picking up the phone and dialing seven very familiar numbers. She waited as the phone rang about three or four times, before someone answered the phone.

"Hi Mamma," said Brenda nervously. Her mother had fully expected her to return home after college.

Willie Ray had even already started to redecorate a room for her.

"Mamma, I need to tell you something, and I need you to let me finish before you say anything, okay?"

" Well of course, dear. Your father and I just want you to know that it's not uncommon for recent graduates to-"

Brenda rolled her eyes in frustration and proceeded to interrupt her mother. "Mamma, I got a job," she said proudly, taking a seat at her kitchen table.

" You did?" asked Willie Ray with a hint of disappointment in her voice. "I thought you said you were having some difficulty finding work?"

" Well I was, but now I found one, so I'm staying in DC. I'm sorry Mamma, I know how much you and Daddy wanted me to come back to Atlanta."

"Oh, no honey, your father and I just want you to be happy, and if you think you're going to be happy there, with all that crime goin' on…" said Willie Ray, her sentence trailing off while her voice got higher.

"Mamma, I majored in criminology. What did you think I wanted to do, bake pies for a living?"

" I'm handing the phone to your father, he has some questions for you." She ignored Brenda's last comment.

"Mamma, no, I don't have time for this. Mamma, just hang up the phone. Mamma!"

Brenda sighed; she did not have the energy to deal with her father right now.

"Brenda Leigh, what's this I hear about you staying up in DC?" demanded Clay Johnson.

" Well Daddy, I got a job," stated Brenda

" Doing what? With who?"

Brenda could almost see the outraged look on her father's face. At this moment, however, she was mentally kicking herself for not being more prepared to answer this question.

She couldn't exactly tell her parents that she was working for the CIA, but Andrew hadn't given her an established cover yet, so she was just stuck.

"I'm working for the State Department Daddy. Listen, I don't really have time for this, I have a lot to do." Brenda wrapped a piece of hair around her finger, twirling it as her father let out deep breaths on the other end of the line.

"Fine, do what you want. Just remember to watch out for all them city folk, DC isn't like home you know."

"Daddy, I've lived here for the past four years. I know what it's like. Now I really have to go now, bye Daddy."

"Just remember what I said." Clay grumbled.

"Yes, yes Daddy I know. Bye, bye now." said Brenda, hanging up the phone in exasperation- her parents could be so exhausting.

That was the first time she had lied to the people she loved about her job, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. The problem was, would she be able to keep it up?

October 1995

It had been exactly two years since Brenda Leigh Johnson had joined the CIA. She spent the first year being trained by the best that the agency had to offer, Andrew Wyatt.

Andrew was the Assistant Director of Clandestine Services, but Brenda still was unaware of what exactly Andrew did on a daily basis. Andrew had acted as her mentor, teaching her how to "effectively communicate" with persons of interest.

In other words, she was being taught how to interrogate.

And she was loving every minute of it.

Currently, Brenda was sitting opposite of Andrew and Buckley Evans, the Director of Clandestine Services.

Brenda kept crossing and re-crossing her legs underneath the table, a habit that she had picked up from sitting in long lecture halls during her years at Georgetown.

Buckley Evans reached into his desk, picking up three rather large files and placing them on the desk in front of Brenda.

"What are these?" asked Brenda, glancing at the stacks of paper in front of her.

"These Ms. Johnson, are what we've been training you for. This is why we brought you in."

A/N: Thanks again for reading! The next few chapters will really focus on Brenda's time at the CIA, and what exactly it is that made her leave.

I hope you enjoyed it, and please review to let me know what you thought!

Alison