A/N: Short, but that's all I got. The next chapter is actually an outtake to a sequel to this story that will never be written. Maybe it's mean to preview a story that won't exist, but it's something fun. It's set in the future and is a scene from one of Sam's missions. Her most important mission ever.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
"The Recruit"
by: the archduke
One Year Later
He stretched out on the futon in Spencer's room, finally able to get off his feet. It briefly crossed his mind that it was a bit unfair that he didn't have a bedroom in the apartment even though he was the one who owned it. But he wasn't really around enough to merit his own bed, let alone a room. Anyway, the futon was pretty comfortable. He'd slept in worse conditions.
It had been a good day. Carly and her cohorts had graduated, his brilliant daughter in the top ten percent of her class and already accepted at Berkeley. Freddie was staying local at the University of Washington. After talking with Mrs. Benson for a few minutes, he was surprised she was even letting the boy that far out of her grasp. Spencer had insisted on taking way too many pictures, surreptitiously wiping at his eyes every once in a while. It was probably for the best his soft-hearted son had quit law school and taken up art.
Sam, though, had been strangely absent. He had seen her at graduation only when her name had been called. She had strutted across the stage, grabbing her diploma out of Principal Franklin's hand and giving him a seemingly bone-crushing hug. She had then turned to the assorted teachers sitting on the stage and said something that he couldn't hear but had made several of them gasp in indignation. Finally, she faced her classmates and the rest of the audience and let out a "Woo, hoo! Later, suckers!" She had treated her graduation as she had her entire high school career: with disrespect and disdain.
Sam had posed for a few pictures with her friends, but she disappeared before he had a chance to talk with her.
He needed to talk with her. When he had offered her the opportunity last year to make something of her life, he had refused to listen to her answer, telling her to think about it and give him her decision after she finished with school. A teenager's mind could change a thousand times during a year and he didn't want her to make such an important choice on a whim.
During that year he had tried to get information on her from Carly when he called to check up on her and Spencer. But in the last few months Carly had been wary of his questioning, wondering why he had taken such an interest in Sam. Since he couldn't tell his daughter it was because he wanted to help her best friend in becoming a world-class covert agent for the government, he mentioned platitudes about wanting to be more involved in her life. He didn't think Carly believed him. He was never much of a liar, a roadblock that had prevented him from becoming an agent and which relegated him to the roll of recruiter.
He sighed into the dark room. Sam must have changed her mind, maybe deciding that a life of crime suited her more than serving the common good. He toed off his loafers in an effort to get more comfortable, when he noticed a piece of paper fall out of his right shoe. He had no idea how it had gotten in there. He picked it up off the floor and unfolded it.
"Answer is yes. When do I get my gun?"
He smiled. He had high hopes for Sam Puckett.