"My God." The beggar's mouth dropped open in shock. "You… you what?"
"We've been looking for you," said Joss. "Tom Talbot sent us."
"Tommy?" The man wiped at his eyes, or where they should be.
Joss squatted next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Mr Marriott. We've come to take you home." The beggar was crying openly now, the tears spilling over the edges of his vacant eye sockets. Joss found it a deeply disturbing sight, although at least she didn't have to disguise her expression. Something large suddenly blocked out the bright sunlight.
"Excuse me, sir, madame?" A black-clad tourist policeman mounted on a camel was staring down at them. "Can I assist you?"
John stood up. "No, thank you. I think we're all right here." He gazed up at the policeman, who gazed impassively back at him for a moment and then nodded and turned his camel away.
"Let's get you out of here," said Joss to the beggar.
"I...I..." the man gulped several times and then said "Will you come to my home? We can talk there."
"Your home?" Joss's brows drew in.
"Yes, it's not far." Marriott was recovering. He got to his feet, picking up his mat and the upturned baseball cap which held his day's pickings. He groped around on the ground and located a long cane which Joss hadn't previously noticed. "This way," he said, and set off across the stony ground, locating a path with his cane and then following it with surprising confidence. John and Joss followed.
Marriott led them across the plateau, away from the pyramids, and then down a slope. He slowed as the incline became steeper. "I hate this part," he said conversationally. There was almost no-one about, just a few figures in Arab dress moving around some distance off. The path was heading steeply downhill with a stony bank gradually rising alongside it. Near the bottom Joss could see, incongruously, heavy metal doors set into what was by then the hillside. She moved forward and took Marriott's arm. "Thank you," he said gratefully. As they reached the bottom he stuck out his cane and let it trail along beside him, touching each of the doors as he came to it. At the fourth one he stopped. "Here it is," he said. He groped amongst the dirty white rags he was wearing and pulled out a large metal key. Groping for the lock, he inserted the key and turned it. There was a slight squeak as the door swung open, revealing a dark passage into the hillside.
"Do come in," said Marriott, strangely courteous.
"Um, it's pretty dark in there, Daniel," said John behind them.
"Oh, is it? Sorry, I never thought. I think there's a power switch there somewhere by the door."
Joss could see it, a big industrial type thing with heavy cables leading away from it. "What is this place?" she asked as John reached past her and flipped the enormous circuit breaker. There was a muffled thud as the lights came on.
"It's a tomb," said Marriott. He gestured them inside and pulled the door closed behind them. "One of the site guards lets me live here in return for a share of my takings." He led them along a passageway past peeling, damaged wall paintings of people reaping grain, herding cattle, marching to war… the passage suddenly widened into a chamber. The lights placed in each corner lit up a deep blue ceiling covered with painted golden stars. Animal-headed gods and goddesses, separated by columns of hieroglyphic writing, formed a stately procession around the walls. In a dark corner there was a small pile of neatly-folded bedding, topped with a tattered old army-surplus sleeping bag. "I have to be out of here by morning," Marriott explained. "But not many tourists make it down here, and no-one's ever complained about the sleeping gear. Anyway, make yourselves comfortable." He sat carefully down on the floor. Joss exchanged looks with John, and they joined him.
"So how did you get here?" John asked.
Marriott leaned back against a painted god and laced his fingers behind his head. "What do you know already?"
"We know you were illegally rendered from the US and ended up here," said Joss before John could say anything. "We were told you were dumped out in the desert. Apart from that, we don't know much for sure." She made herself look at Marriott's eyes again. "Though now I see you I can guess a whole lot."
Marriott's mouth twitched into which might be described as a smile. "The short story is, when I couldn't convince them I was innocent, they gouged my eyes out. And when I wouldn't tell them where I'd hidden my ill-gotten gains, they beat me half to death and, yes, dumped me out in the desert."
Joss glanced at John. His face was wooden.
"Luckily some people found me by the side of the road," Marriott continued. "I couldn't speak Arabic then, so I have no idea who they were or why they picked me up. But they kept me alive. We were living, I think, in a shack on the outskirts of Giza. After I had recovered a bit they used to take me to the gate of the pyramid complex and use me to beg off the tourists. I think they might have dyed my hair so I didn't look so obviously like a Westerner. I know they washed it a couple of times. Or maybe no-one looked past my eyes. I don't really know. I guess I was useful to them, but one day no-one came to collect me at the end of the day. By then I had a few fragments of the language and so I just kept on begging."
"Why didn't you..." Joss's voice trailed off.
"Go to the Embassy? You're kidding, right? By the way, who are you?"
"Oh. My name's Joss Carter. This is John. Your, um, friend Tom Talbot sent us after you."
"Tom! Is he all right?" There was sudden eagerness in the man's voice.
"Yeah. Yeah, he is," said Joss.
"In fact, I think it might be safe for you to go back to the US, if you want to," added John. "Tom Talbot climbed the career ladder. He's in a position to protect you now."
A genuine smile lightened Marriott's face. "That would be Tom all over," he said proudly. "He always was the sharpest knife in the drawer."
"Well," said Joss softly, "maybe it's time you came home, then. He's waiting for you."
"Nothing would-" whispered Marriott. He stopped and cleared his throat. "Nothing would please me more."
POI*POI*POI*POI*
They got back to the hotel late that evening. Marriott was installed in a room down the hall, worn out and dazed by the afternoon's activities: a medical check at a discreet clinic, bathing and shaving and finding new clothes. And sunglasses. The clinic doctor had been horrified at the state of Marriott's mutilated eye sockets, and was gently pessimistic that prosthetics could be fitted to them, but Marriott was already speaking hopefully of second opinions at the best clinics in the US. In the mean time, he said, dark glasses would have to do. But Reese's heart warmed at the sight of the man already making plans as the future opened out before him. He could imagine what a good feeling that was.
A dinner at a café across from the clinic was seemingly Marriott's first full meal in months, maybe years. The man was practically unconscious when they'd steered him through the doorway of his room, helped him locate the bed and toilet, and then withdrawn with assurances that they were only a few yards away. He'd seemed torn between a desperate need to be alone to absorb his sudden change of fortune, and an understandable fear of unfamiliar surroundings.
Joss, too seemed at last to be unwinding. She curled up in the bed and Reese wrapped himself around her. They fell asleep at almost the same time, wrung out.
Reese woke during the night as Joss began to twitch and writhe in his arms.
"I don't know! I don't know..." She began gagging and snapped awake, sweating and shivering. "Oh, God. John. Sorry. Sorry. It was a dream," she mumbled incoherently. "I was back there… Jen..."
He pulled her in close. "Hey. You're okay now."
"Yeah. Yeah, I am." She lay still in his arms. "Thank you for coming for me."
"It's what I do."
"And thank you for not killing her. Even when I told you to."
There was a long silence. His fingers, tracing a looping curve up and down her arm, stilled. "Yeah."
They lay in silence, their breaths synchronising. His fingers resumed their stroking.
"I...I..." Carter began. He dropped a kiss on her forehead.
"You don't have to explain. She'd just been torturing you."
"Well, yes. But that shouldn't be an excuse. You arrest someone when they've been doing something wrong, you don't kill them."
His breath huffed out in a chuckle. "For God's sake, Joss, will you cut yourself some slack? No one else I know would even be having this conversation."
"Huh. I think we both owe Fusco, though. Big time."
"Not disagreeing with you, Carter. Not one bit."
She propped herself up on one elbow, stroking his hair in the dark. "So tell him some time, John. Okay?"
He pulled her close and began kissing her neck. "I think he knows," he said, his voice muffled.
"No, I mean it. You tell him… unghhh…." As he reached her breasts, her hands began roving deliciously.
"Anything…. you…. say….ahhhh..." he gasped the words out, before speech became impossible.
POI*POI*POI*POI*
Reese pulled the car into the underground parking at the Coronet and got out to help Carter assist Marriott. It had taken over a week, and a fake passport messengered from Finch, to get Marriott from his tomb in Giza to the hotel room in Cairo, to Cairo International Airport and then on to New York. But at last they were here.
Together they walked him across the echoing space to the elevator. Marriott was trembling slightly as they got out on the twelfth floor, and his trembling got worse with every step along the corridor. As they halted outside the door of 1212 he raised a hand. "Just give me a moment," he whispered. They stood there on either side of him as he breathed deeply. The shudders gradually lessened, and at last he nodded. "Thank you. Thank you both…. so much." He took off his sunglasses, raised a hand and tapped on the door.
It opened almost immediately. Talbot was there, his face ashen. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came; he simply stood there with his mouth working helplessly and tears starting in his eyes.
Reese gestured to him, and he stood aside as they led Marriott into the room. The door closed softly behind them, and then Talbot was there, reaching a shaking hand across to touch his lover's sleeve.
"Oh, God, Danny. Your eyes- what did they do to you?"
Marriott put out a hand to grasp Talbot by the forearm. He pulled him close and raised his other hand to trace Talbot's hairline, ending with his palm to the other man's cheek. "It's okay, Tom. It's all going to be okay." He pulled him closer. Reese gave Carter a small smile and took her hand as they left the room. He have a last glance over his shoulder at the couple. They were holding each other close, foreheads pressed together, trying not to cry. The door closed.
As they strolled down the hotel corridor towards the elevator, he put his arm around Carter's shoulders and pulled her in against his side.
POI*POI*POI*POI*
They were back at the subway station. This time Finch was drinking his green tea with them, the computer, ignored for the time being, behind him. Shaw was rubbing her stomach absently as she sucked on a carton of milk, while Reese and Carter had their usual coffees. There was a remarkably mellow atmosphere in the station. Reese had passed around his phone with the photos of Carter on the camel.
"So you're telling me you went off to Egypt for a week, leaving me and Fusco to deal with the Numbers, and just went sightseeing?" Shaw pretended to frown at Joss.
"Yeah, well, maybe it wasn't quite what I expected. I thought we'd be, I dunno, busting poor old Marriott out of jail or something," said Carter.
"Though in the end if you hadn't had the impulse to play tourist, you'd never have found him," Finch pointed out.
"It all worked out in the end," said Reese comfortably. He was contemplating the concept of atonement. Just for once it seemed quite possible. He'd never given that 2008 mission a second thought; the guy they'd rendered had been a minor detail compared to his encounter with Peter Arndt in the bar when he'd been taking some R and R. He had thought about that plenty, and about Kara Stanton's words to him: "We're not walking in the dark, we are the dark." But he hadn't wasted a single thought on the guy in the black hood they'd rendered to Morocco the following day. It was funny to think that that guy had had his own story, that he'd been screwed over by the government just as thoroughly as Reese, and for as little reason. At least Reese had got out in one piece, kind of. Still… what would you have rather lost, your eyesight, or Jessica? Not much point going down that path. Maybe Marriott would consider it a fair deal, that getting his lover back would outweigh the loss of his sight. Of course it was a screwed-up world that placed people in situations like that, but still… he forced his thoughts away from such matters. However you sliced and diced it, he could go to bed tonight feeling that the world was just a little bit better for his efforts. That was worth a lot.
POI*POI*POI*POI*
ACCESSING AUDIO FEEDS….
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Talbot, Thomas XXX-XX-4098
Status: Non-Threat
Marriott, Daniel XXX-XX-9261
Status: Non-Threat
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Talbot: Oh, God, Danny. Your eyes – what did they do to you?
Marriott: It's okay, Tom. It's all going to be okay.
Talbot: I love you so much. I waited-
Marriott: It's okay. It's okay.
Talbot: But your eyes-
Marriott: Hey. Hey. No need to cry. I keep telling you – it's going to be okay. They never found the money.
Talbot: …
Talbot: What?
Marriott: The CIA never found the money. From the Chinese. It's all still there. We can go away, somewhere we never have to hide again.
Talbot: But you...but you… you were innocent. You never sold those secrets-
Marriott: But I did, Tom. For you. For us. We can go away now. Somewhere we can sit in the sun and drink good wine and laugh about all of this.
Talbot: …
Talbot: I waited. I waited for you, because I knew you were innocent.
Marriott: …
Talbot: [indecipherable]
[gunshot]
[gunshot]
ACCESSING DIGITAL SOURCES…
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PRESS RELEASE
CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY
The Central Intelligence Agency is deeply saddened to announce the death of its Deputy Director, Mr Thomas Talbot, in New York yesterday.
Mr Talbot over many years offered unstinting service to this agency and to his country. The Central Intelligence Agency extends its deepest condolences to Mr Talbot's wife Margaret, his son Daniel and his daughter Claire at this tragic time.
No further comment is available.
PRESS RELEASE ENDS
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New York Journal: CIA BOSS IN MURDER-SUICIDE
CIA Deputy Director Tom Talbot was found dead in his hotel room today with a so far unidentified man in an apparent murder-suicide. Neither the Central Intelligence Agency nor the Talbot family was available today for comment, although a source within the NYPD confirms it was Talbot who fired the fatal shots...
The End
A/N: Well, that's it for now, folks, although I do have some bits and pieces waiting to be joined up into another story... as some of you have correctly noticed, something's going on with Shaw. And Martin's out there with Athene - I'm not sure we've heard the last from them... But right now my muse is a bit tuckered out. Once she's had a rest we'll see what she comes up with. But in the mean time, thanks for reading, and please review if you liked it!