Sorry for the delay. I actually finished the first draft of this last weekend, but a weird work schedule prevented me from performing necessary revisions. But here's Chapter 17. It's a long one. so I don't want any lip, my little wombats. Except, of course, for how it ends. I think it's really gonna piss some people off. And, judging from a few reviews, make a couple people kinda happy. Weird.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: SCARS AND SOUVENIRS
SOMEWHERE ALONG INTERSTATE 40, HEADING EAST...
Devon stared out the window of the Crown Victoria and idly drummed his fingers against his leg. Man, this was one boring road trip...
For starters, John Casey wasn't the most brilliant conversationalist. In fact, most of the vocalizations he emitted were grunts, which Devon classified under three categories: Bite me, Shut up, and I don't care.
Then, his music. Sinatra. Lots and lots of Sinatra. A ridiculous amount of Sinatra. Devon considered himself an easy going guy, but he really wanted to punch Old Blue Eyes in the head.
"So..." Devon drawled, deciding to give conversation one more chance, just for the hell of it. "I was wondering why we can't just fly to Miami. NSA obviously has use of private jets, given our trip to Roswell."
As expected, Casey grunted in reply. But wait— It didn't fit into any of the three proven categories. It was almost like a grunt of... acknowledgement. As if the question he'd just asked was – for once – not completely stupid.
"Cos if I call the General asking for transport," Casey started, "I'll have to explain why. And I can't without disclosing the fact that Walker and your missus have vanished and that we're no longer following mission objectives. Frankly, none of us need that."
Devon paused a moment, phrasing his next question very carefully. "Sarah said something similar. These objectives, in regards to Chuck and Rachel... Are they what I think they are?"
"Depends what you think."
"I think you're supposed to kill them."
The Crown Vic swayed slightly in the lane, the only indication of reaction from Casey. But it was enough to confirm his theory. While he would never admit it, Casey was highly impressed he figured it out.
"You may be some bad ass government agent, but if you touch my future bro-in-law..."
Casey couldn't help it. Laughter bubbled out of him. The glare Devon shot him only amplified the effect.
"Aw kid. Look at you. Take out a couple second rate lackeys and suddenly you think you're bad."
Devon turned away and glanced out the window. Very casually he said, "Last time I drove? You nodded off for about ten minutes." Looking back at Casey, he wore the slightest of smiles. "Just saying."
Once more, Casey grunted. And this time, it bore the slightest hint of respect.
-------------
MIAMI, FLORIDA
"So, Mr. Nerd Herd supervisor, how are your illicit computer skills?"
Rachel's face gazed at him through the Cherokee's rearview mirror. Somewhere in Mississippi, both agents had purchased a ridiculous amount of makeup. Chuck wasn't quite sure if it was their CIA training or simply the fact they were women, but both managed to fix themselves up to look like something beyond car crash victims.
As for the other agent, while Chuck shared the backseat with Sarah, they certainly didn't share any space. Chuck purposely put distance between the two, breaking said distance only to check on her physical injuries. Sarah's only solace was his similar reaction to Rachel. Obviously he was still disappointed in both agents for their actions in that Mississippi parking lot.
"By illicit you mean...?"
"Exactly what you think."
For the first time in the past day, Chuck actually managed to smile at one of the agents. "I don't condone or participate in any such activities."
Rachel smiled wryly in return. "Riiiight."
----------
SUNSHINE STATE BANK
The Cherokee sat parked outside the bank. Three occupants waited patiently for the fourth to return.
Chuck, Sarah, and Ellie sat in awkward silence. The only sound was the crinkling of a pretzel bag being passed back and forth between the siblings.
Finally, Ellie could take it no longer. "So, Sarah... Do you do this?"
It took a few moments to get over the shock that Ellie was actually initiating conversation with her. "Uh, do what?"
"Set up safety deposit boxes like this."
"Most agents do," Sarah admitted. "In case of emergency."
Chuck sighed. His comment was soft, but Sarah picked it up. "The patented Sarah Walker non-answer answer."
Before Sarah could begin to mope too severely, Rachel returned. Sliding into the jeep, she tossed a small bag into Chuck's lap. "Got it," she declared.
Reaching into the bag, Chuck first found a dummy ID with Rachel's likeness. There was also a passport and a couple credit cards. "Nicole Graves. Nice to meet you."
"Likewise. Now let's go shopping."
---------
BUY MORE
As they entered the Miami Buy More, each was struck by an eerie familiarity. The interior was a near spot on copy of the Burbank branch. And the employees...
The Green Shirts were lost in their own little world and completely ignoring the lines of waiting customers. The Nerd Herders were gathered behind their desk watching UFC fights on YouTube. And in the midst of this very familiar insanity, a voice bellowed:
"Kowalski! Will you do something with your damn Nerds?! And when you're done get down to the Convention Center! They need tech support! Get going, Kowalski!"
A tall, gangly man dressed in Nerd Herd garb hustled by, in his hands the standard Nerd Herd metal repair case. "On it, Big Stan!" he shouted on his way out the door.
The four stared after the man. "Huh," they vocalized in harmony. The moment over, they simply moved on.
"What do you need, Chuck?" Rachel asked.
"If I were to explain the technical specs, would you understand?"
"Good point. Off you go."
"What's my spending limit?"
"There is none. Spare no expense, Chuck."
Chuck's eyes glazed over. His breath came in quick pants. Almost like he were...aroused. "'Kay, bye," he said as he rushed towards the computer section.
The women watched him peruse the equipment like a kid in a toy store. Ellie leaned towards Rachel and said, "You just turned my brother loose in an electronics store with no spending limit."
"Mmm hmm," Rachel smiled.
"Huh," Ellie said again. She spared a glance at both agents. Saw the content smile upon Rachel's face. The grim expression upon Sarah's. This...thing...wasn't over. Not by a long shot. "I need to use the restroom," she said, excusing herself.
Sarah said nothing as she too turned away.
---------
THE SUNRISE PALACE
One of Miami's elite hotels. Five stars, located a stone's throw from the beach. The place to stay for rich and the good.
"Shoulda booked ahead," Chuck quipped. "This place is packed."
"It's always is," Rachel said. "That's why we stopped at the Buy More first. How's it coming?"
Across the street from the hotel, the four gathered around the hood of the Cherokee. Chuck's fingers flew across the keys of his brand new TG-3800 laptop. After singing a song about his new toy – and caressing the device in a manner that made his female companions blush – Chuck set to work hacking into The Sunrise Palace's operating system.
"Bit slow. It's tough to pick up wi-fi on this street corner."
"Pick a nice room," Rachel instructed. "A suite if you can."
"Okay."
"And something with a view. Preferably eastern exposure. I like a nice sunrise and ocean view."
"For someone who last picked a hotel with leopard print sheets, you're awful picky."
"Watch it, boy-o. I can take away your new toys."
Chuck simply grinned in response. For Sarah, it was merely another punch to the gut.
With a final keystroke, Chuck declared, "Sorry Mister and Missus Richard De Palma. Your reservation has been lost."
----------
A few minutes later, Rachel led the group inside the building. The desk clerk sized up the ragtag group, prepared to alert security. But when Rachel smiled and slipped her black no-limit credit card across the counter, the clerk's tune shifted immediately.
"Nicole Graves plus three. I believe we have a reservation."
--------
To call it a suite was an understatement. It was more a penthouse loft. And to Chuck's surprise, upon entering the suite, instead of marveling at the sheer opulence of their surroundings, each of the women called in rapid succession—
"Bathtub!"
They made a mad dash for the nearest bedroom. To Chuck's complete lack of surprise, Ellie won, even delivering a few elbows to beat the agents away from the door.
At the exact same moment, both agents turned across the large common room, towards the other bedroom. Both ran at breakneck speed. Sarah hurdled a couch. Rachel slid across the dining table. But as they approached the door, at the very last instant, a common thought crossed both their minds:
The loser would be left alone with Chuck.
Both skidded to a stop. "After you," Rachel insisted.
"No no," was Sarah's answer. "Age before beauty."
"Yeah, like I said, after you."
With a hard shove, Sarah pushed Rachel into the bathroom and shut the door. Latching onto the knob, she held the door shut, preventing Rachel's escape. She smiled sheepishly at Chuck.
Chuck just shook his head. "I'm gonna watch TV." He headed towards the couch and the wonderful flat screen plasma mounted to the wall. Sarah sighed.
---------
It was nearly two hours later before everyone gathered again around the dining table. Rachel and Ellie had long completed their baths. Sarah recently finished, still drying her hair.
She paused, finding the other women leaning over Chuck's shoulders as he typed away at the laptop. But as was the new custom, Sarah's focus wasn't on Ellie's interaction with him, but rather Rachel's.
The other agent leaned over Chuck's shoulder, watching the computer screen. She nodded as Chuck rambled about some technical aspect, genuinely listening to him. But it was Rachel's right hand that most concerned Sarah.
If Sarah didn't know better, she'd swear it was entirely subconscious. But Sarah knew better, she knew Rachel. And it was quite deliberate the way her hand rested against Chuck's neck, her thumb twirling through the dark curls of hair. Knowing how intent Chuck could be when working, Sarah knew he might not be aware of the touch. Or he might be hyper aware. There was an easy way to test both theories.
Sarah cleared her throat, drawing their attention. Rachel quickly removed her hand. Chuck, meanwhile, casually turned and spared a quick glance, then went back to work.
Right on both counts.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"Chuck's doing some research for us," Rachel explained.
"According to the hotel's database, there is no Alexander Harris booked anytime this month," Chuck informed.
"Not surprising," Rachel said. "Part of his deal with the government was to remove his name from the grid. Which means he must use aliases."
"A man like Harris," Sarah inserted, "will take precautions. Advanced security detail."
Rachel nodded. "And he won't be here longer than necessary. The game starts tomorrow at sunset. While his security may already be here, he won't arrive until tomorrow afternoon."
Sarah agreed. "So check reservations. Check-ins tomorrow, check-outs the morning after."
"Once you find matches," Rachel said, "check the neighboring rooms. Several rooms together with identical check-ins and check-outs."
"Why?" Ellie asked.
"His security staff will be in the neighboring rooms," Sarah explained. "Maybe even the rooms above and below. Standard procedure for the rich and paranoid."
Chuck typed in the parameters and hit enter. The results quickly displayed. "It looks like... Jacob Ryder. Room 708. It's a mid level suite."
"Not too opulent, but not down with the commoners," Rachel said.
"Perfect blend of comfort and camouflage," Sarah continued. "Just the sort of room someone like Harris would choose."
"Chuck, what about the hotel security systems?" Rachel asked.
"There's only so much I can accomplish using the hotel wi-fi," Chuck explained. "If we want access to security video and other systems, there needs to be a physical tap of their system, which can then be relayed to my laptop."
"Can you do that?"
"Uh..." Chuck stammered. "I guess..."
"Excellent! Do you have what you need to do it?"
"Yeah, I guess..."
"Fantastic! It needs to be done quickly as possible." Rachel stepped away from the group, lost in thought. After a moment, "Which brings about the next issue. We need cash. Fast."
"Why?" Ellie asked again.
"I need to get Chuck into the game."
"No," Sarah firmly stated.
"Sarah, be reasonable. I don't like it either, but Chuck needs to sit across from Harris tomorrow night. Who knows what he might say or do that could trigger a flash that will help us."
"Once we get security feeds online, Chuck can easily do that from the safety of this room."
"If he's up here, who's in the game? Not only will Harris have his own personal security, but this game will feature at least twelve players anteing up a half million each. That's a six million dollar jackpot. This hotel no doubt already has its own private security in place. And not just some old beat cops growing fat on their pensions. But trained security personnel. I need you to help me deal with that."
"You'll just have to improvise," Sarah said. "I'm the best poker player. I pump him for info, keep him in the game and out of his room to give you time to operate."
"What about me?" Ellie asked.
Everyone turned to stare. With a thoughtful expression, Rachel said, "That's not a bad idea," just as Sarah vehemently said, "Absolutely not."
Ellie turned a hard look on Sarah. "It's not your operation, is it? I don't need your permission."
"Ellie, be reasonable..."
"You should be happy, Sarah. This plan keeps Chuck out of harms way. That's what a big sister does."
"Ellie, I can do this..." Chuck started. But she would have none of it.
"Chuck, hush. I'm your big sister and you'll do as I say."
Chuck knew that tone. So he did the only reasonable thing. He hushed. And Sarah did what she seemed to do with greater occurrence. She silently fumed.
"Well, Eleanor Bartowski," Rachel smiled. "Looks like you get a crash course in Secret Agent 101. However, it will be a moot exercise if we can't wrangle up the buy-in fee."
"Didn't have another retirement package in that bank?" Chuck asked.
"Just petty cash," she said. "A few thousand. Enough to get me somewhere else in event of emergency. I can't generate the funds we need. Not in twenty-four hours."
"I can," Sarah said quietly. Suddenly everyone's focus was on her. Sarah shuffled nervously. "Just, uh, let me make a call." She grabbed one of the prepaid Tracphones they bought and disappeared into one of the bedrooms.
Chuck turned to Rachel. From the look on her face, he knew that she knew what was going on. "Who's she calling?" he asked.
Her nervousness made him suspicious. "Probably a man called James Craig," Rachel informed.
"And who is he?"
"He's, uh, well he's an old friend. A mentor to, uh, to both of us actually."
Chuck didn't like the way she said mentor. "A mentor?"
"Yeah. He was, uh, you know, a big shot back in the day. Took us under his wing."
Chuck nodded tightly. "So they're apparently close enough that she can ask him for half a million dollars. Close enough that she believes he'll simply give it to her, no questions asked."
"Well, there's a bond between mentor and protégé," Rachel weakly said.
"Has he ever given you half a million dollars?"
"Well, no..."
"Would he if you asked?"
Rachel scratched her head, trying to come up with an answer. But all she could offer was a lame, "I don't know..."
"But she thinks he'll give it to her." Chuck nodded, having reached his conclusion. "Okay then."
A few minutes later, Sarah returned, a fake smile plastered upon her face. "We should have the money by tonight. He's transferring the funds into one of my secret accounts."
"Who is?" Chuck asked.
The fake smile faltered momentarily. Sarah had really hoped he wouldn't ask. Silly really. After all, he is Chuck...
"My former mentor. I explained the situation in vague detail. Said it sounded like a worthy cause and that he would send the money."
"Right. I'm going to watch some TV," Chuck said and began to move off.
"No you don't," Rachel said, grabbing his wrist. "You have work to do. You and Sarah." Both snapped their attention towards her. "You need to work on tapping the security system. And you can't be left alone. Sarah should watch after you."
The only person more puzzled by Rachel's declaration than Chuck was Sarah. She gazed quizzically at her fellow agent, only to receive a slight head quirk in return. Don't blow it was the message.
"Besides," Rachel continued, "Ellie and I need to go shopping."
It was Ellie's turn to look quizzical. We do?
------------------
When Rachel said shopping, Ellie didn't quite expect this. Rachel drove to the high-class shops on Collins Avenue. Storefronts filled with designer clothing and accessories. Ellie was actually feeling quite faint at the prospect.
Currently they frequented a shop featuring designer evening gowns. Ellie stepped from a changing room, clad in a shimmering blue-grey gown. She examined herself in a mirror, awestruck by the beauty of it. Suddenly, a wolf-whistle sounded nearby.
"Damn. Look at you," Rachel said. "Doctor Babe-owski on call."
"I think it's a bit much," Ellie said, glancing down at her neckline. The dress certainly showed off her...assets.
"Nonsense," Rachel insisted. "Guy can't concentrate on his own cards so long as he's staring at your pair."
"That's...a little disturbing."
"Maybe," Rachel admitted. "But it's a lesson they teach all female recruits at Sparrow School. If at all possible, redirect a mark's blood flow south. If he's thinking with his little head, he isn't thinking with his big one." Examining Ellie's hair, she said, "You know, I'm thinking you should wear a French twist with this dress. A little loose and messy. What do you think? Something to show off your neck."
"I think I'm not quite believing that I'm discussing designer dresses and hairstyles with my brother's kidnapper."
Rachel froze a moment. But just as quickly, she resumed playing with Ellie's hair. "Yeah, well, I don't expect to be forgiven..."
"Good," Ellie responded. "It might be water under the bridge for Chuck, but not for me."
"Then why are you helping me?"
"Because Chuck thinks you need help. And I trust his judge of character."
Short, simple, and sweet. Rachel's respect for the family was growing by the minute.
"Remember," she said, moving back to business, "you need to keep him engaged. Don't be afraid to use your feminine wiles."
"What if I can't keep his interest?"
Rachel spared at glance at Ellie's chest. "I don't think that will be an issue."
Ellie offered a wry smile. "Is that really how this business works?"
Rachel returned the smile. "A little leg and a little cleavage goes a long way. A man will tell a woman damn near anything to get her in the sack, even things that are state secrets."
"Seriously?" Ellie asked, not quite believing it.
"C'mon, Ellie, you're a babe. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know."
"I'm not in the business of seducing men."
"Business, pleasure, what's the difference?" was Rachel's answer. "You telling me you never took timeout from med school studies for a little stress relief? Get dolled up, find the cutest guy in the bar, and then...work your wiles?"
Ellie futilely turned away to hide a blush. Rachel laughed and smiled knowingly at her companion. "It's a trip, yeah? The right dress, the right move, the right word, the right touch. It's remarkable how easy it is to turn a man into a puppet on a string."
"You enjoy it," Ellie observed.
"I certainly used to," Rachel admitted. "There is something to be said for this job. The way it allows you to create an entirely new persona. It, uh, frees you. Because when you become someone else, the old rules fall by the wayside. You can do anything. Without regret, without ambiguities. It's a very 'in the moment' type existence."
"Sounds...interesting," Ellie coolly offered. But underneath was a definite hint of interest and curiosity. However, her rational mind regained control. "What about my brother? Is he a puppet on your string?"
"Of course not," Rachel answered, seemingly offended. "I respect him."
She said it so easily. Ellie couldn't be sure if it was the lie of a well-trained actress or an honest declaration.
"Forgive me if I don't trust your words at face value."
"Ah. You're really taking to these lessons I'm giving you. Good on you."
"I'm trying desperately to understand the dynamic between you three. What exactly are your intentions with my brother? And I swear to God, if you say 'It's complicated', I will..."
"We're both interested in him romantically," Rachel said. Off Ellie's shock, she asked, "What? You think us Secret Agent Hotties are out of his league?"
"Actually, I don't think either of you are good enough for him."
The comment didn't faze Rachel in the slightest. "Probably so."
After another moment, Ellie added, "And I'm not used to honesty when I direct such questions to CIA agents." Rachel nodded in understanding. "Of course, the question remains..."
"Your brother is sweet, smart, compassionate, funny..." A wanton look graced Rachel's features. "And God, that ass. I'd pay good money to hit that..."
"Okay! Enough! Good Lord, I don't need to hear that!"
Rachel grinned at her discomfort. But then, serious, "You're absolutely right to question our motives. It's what a good agent would do. But I want to assure you, both Sarah and I care deeply for you brother."
"Are you in love with him?"
Rachel contemplated the question. "Not yet, no. But...I think the potential is there. With your permission, I'd like to find out."
"With my permission?" Ellie replied, stunned.
"He is your family. It only seems proper. Besides, I did technically kidnap him. I hate to ratchet the tension up further by not announcing my intentions to court your brother."
"What about Sarah?" Ellie asked.
"She is madly in love with him," Rachel announced. "Though I have serious doubts she'll ever act upon it."
"Why?"
"Sarah still feels certain...loyalties...that I no longer do. Basically the CIA offered her a sense of belonging and she's afraid to lose it. Even for a chance at love."
Ellie considered this answer. "So, you're basically saying that she's an emotional invalid and you express romantic interest by kidnapping. Are all CIA agents as screwed up as you two?"
"Ha!" Rachel snorted, positively tickled. Other shop patrons turned to look. Rachel ignored them as she giggled. "Oh, you have no idea," she finally offered. "But really, don't ask unless you absolutely want to know."
After a moment, Ellie offered, "I want to know."
Rachel reacted with surprise. She spared a quick glance at her watch. "It okay if we discuss things over dinner? It'll be a long talk."
---------
It had taken remarkably little effort for Sarah to ready the necessary supplies for the job at hand. A couple quick bumps in the hallway with staff provided her with a couple employee ID's. Using her ever present lock pick set, she gained access to a staff supply closet and two uniforms.
Dressed as a maid and concierge, respectively, Sarah and Chuck slipped behind the main desk and down the employee corridor. As they approached the room marked 'SECURITY', Sarah made to retrieve her lock picks once more. To her surprise, Chuck kept walking.
"Where are you going?" Sarah asked.
"To perform the tap," he explained, as if it were terribly obvious.
He pushed open the door marked 'BASEMENT' and went down. Sarah hurriedly replaced her lock picks and chased after him.
Moving quickly down the stairs, Sarah found Chuck already at work. Power screwdriver in hand, he was busy removing the paneling from a large metal cabinet hanging from the wall. When the panel finally came off, it revealed a tangled mass of circuitry so dense Sarah's eyes popped out.
"Are you sure you can do this?"
Chuck hesitated a moment. He mumbled softly to himself, but Sarah managed to pick it up. "You never used to doubt me." Reaching into his bag of supplies, Chuck began extracting the tools he needed and set to work.
As Chuck worked steadily in silence, it was Sarah who finally became unnerved. "Listen, Chuck..."
"Don't," he said.
"Don't what?" Sarah asked in surprise.
"Don't try to equivocate. That's the tone of voice you always use."
"I'm not trying to equivocate," Sarah defended. "And what am I equivocating about?"
"The phone call you made. Rachel gave me the scoop." Sarah's blood began to boil at that, but Chuck's next words put a damper on it. "She tried to skirt the topic out of respect to you, but I caught the drift."
"Chuck...it's complicated."
A humorless laugh filled the room. "Right. The standard answer. It's complicated."
"Well, it is," Sarah insisted. "My relationship with James isn't easily definable."
"But you've slept with him."
Sarah reacted to the blunt statement. Usually Chuck wasn't so forward. "We were lovers. Many years ago."
Chuck's muscles tensed at the admission, but he kept on working. "You know, I'm really beginning to see a trend."
Sarah really didn't like where this was going. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean is...James, Bryce. You were with them. You had relationships with them. And, you know, it's just suddenly so clear. For all your preaching about how we can never be together because I'm your asset, it just doesn't jive. Even the remarks Casey makes..."
"You're listening to Casey?" Sarah asked in disbelief, hoping to knock some sense into him. But Chuck continued on.
"He mentions your habit of becoming involved with your partners. And now, what I heard earlier, the facts become clear."
Sarah gulped, dreading the words he was about to speak.
"The fact that we work together isn't the reason we can never be. You obviously don't have a problem with office romance. The fact is, you just don't want to be with me."
Sarah closed her eyes tightly, willing the tears back. Her heart was ripping. But so focused on the task at hand, Chuck didn't even notice.
"Chuck," she croaked. "That isn't..."
"Like I said, don't," Chuck repeated. "This dance of ours...it's getting old. I get you're not good with people, with relationships. But I've given you so many chances to make just a little headway, but you never do."
Chuck paused a moment, hoping for a response. None came.
"Listen, we finish this job and go home. We can continue to work together. I'd prefer to, actually. You may not love me, but I trust you to keep me alive. I'll even continue our cover relationship. But you never again have to worry about me trying to blur the lines between cover and real."
For the first time, Chuck actually turned to look at her. Sarah's head was turned, eyes fixed on a point on the floor. He had hoped to see some sign, some indication of denial. Anything to give him some semblance of hope. Seeing none, and with a heavy sigh, Chuck turned back to the problem at hand. Never seeing the wetness building in Sarah's eyes. Or how her shoulders slumped in defeat. Deeply affected by his words, like a knife to the stomach.
With a few last adjustments, Chuck declared the job finished. Sarah held the panel in place for him to screw it back on. In silence, they climbed the stairs and returned to their suite.
----------
"I'm just trying to understand this," Ellie said. "What sort of people is my brother dealing with?"
The two women sat in the patio dining area of the café. All around were the spoils of their recent excursion, boxes and bags full of designers dresses, shoes, and accessories.
"To complete the ensemble," Rachel insisted. "If we're to hang around a high stakes poker game, we must look like we belong. You especially."
"Honestly? An unpleasant sort," Rachel informed her. She then lit a Marlboro and took a deep drag. "Oh man. Been forever since I've had a smoke."
"Those things will kill you," Ellie said.
"In this business, a lot of things could kill me."
"And I'm meant to be comforted?"
"Try not to fret," Rachel advised. "Chuck has Sarah Walker and John Casey guarding him. There's none better." Then, with wry amusement, "A fact everyone reminds me of at every opportunity."
"So why'd you even join the CIA? Why did Sarah?"
"People don't become deep cover operatives when they grow up well adjusted. It's, um, it's the reason so many join the military. It offers a sense of belonging. Or an escape from less than stellar childhood circumstances."
Rachel visibly shuddered as some memory overtook her. She quickly shook it away.
"But, like I said, the CIA isn't without its appeal. Especially when you're an impressionable kid. You'd be surprised how much of the Bond stuff actually comes into play. Exotic locals, the seductions, the gun play. It can be a thrill living on that razor's edge."
"Sounds exciting," Ellie said, intrigue again in her voice.
"There is a certain appeal to the power we wield over others, whether it be physical, psychological, or sexual. But then, uh, it changes. They change you."
"The CIA?"
Rachel nodded. "Emotions are frowned upon. If you have them, they teach you to shut them out. Which, you know, for some of us was easier than others. It was a lesson I was taught long before the CIA got me."
That faraway look appeared once more in Rachel's eyes. For an inexplicable reason, Ellie found the need to save her from those memories.
"And Sarah?"
Rachel snapped back to reality. For a moment, she appeared out of sorts, trying to remember the question. "She feels emotions intensely. That's never been her problem. In fact, the one knock on Sarah has always been she's too emotional. She just doesn't know what to do with them."
"How can such a lovely girl..." Ellie began.
"Lovely girls," Rachel began, "well adjusted girls, they become schoolteachers, or lawyers, or doctors," she finished with a pointed look to Ellie. "I said before, you don't get our job by being well adjusted." Derisively, she added, "Wouldn't be much use to them otherwise." Rachel took a deep drag off her cigarette. "This job, it may allow you to create a new persona, but after a while...you forget what it's like to be you."
After a few moments of consideration, Ellie finally said, "I don't know what your feelings are. Frankly, at this point, I'm not even sure of mine. All I do know is the one person whose opinion does matter isn't sitting at this table."
Ellie thought the melancholy might return as Rachel contemplated her words. But to her infinite surprise, Rachel plastered a wide smile upon her face.
"Enough with the dour talk," she insisted. "We gotta get you mission ready. Ellie Bartowski, I'm gonna teach you how to work a mark. Being a hottie, you're likely familiar with many of these tactics. So let's begin. Pretend I'm Harris and show me what you got."
For the next hour, Rachel helped prep her for the mission. And to Ellie's incredible surprise, she actually...enjoyed herself.
---------
It was nearly 9 pm before Rachel and Ellie returned to the suite. After tipping the bellhops for their assistance in carrying their bounty of shopping bags, both noticed the uncomfortable silence that permeated the room.
Sarah sat at the dining table, absently poking at a Caesar salad. When the other women entered, her gaze shifted down to her food, unable or unwilling to look at them.
Chuck, meanwhile, was busy working with the plasma screen TV. His laptop was wired in, and by the looks of things, his tap into the security system was working.
"Hey!" Rachel said excitedly. "You got it!"
"Yup," Chuck said proudly. "We now have full access to security feeds on all thirty floors. Plus I'm wired into everything from the locks on doors to the fire safety systems. This building is under my control."
Ellie was positively stunned. "Chuck, you really did all that?"
"Sure. It's easy enough which wires to cross and what buttons to push."
He made it sound so ridiculously easy. "Wow," was all Ellie could offer. But it was enough to convey just how impressed she was.
"I told you how impressive your brother is," Rachel reminded. "Some of the mission reports I read...stealing a building is child's play in comparison."
"I always knew he could do big things," Ellie proudly offered. "And now, I think I want to go to bed." She frowned. "How are we handling the sleeping arrangements?"
"Rachel and I, you and Sarah," Chuck immediately said. Only Sarah was unsurprised by the announcement. Though Rachel didn't know whether to be thrilled or confused.
"Any particular reason..." Rachel began.
"Because I'm not ready to trust you and Sarah alone," Chuck offered. Though unspoken, the palpable tension in the air indicated why he and Sarah wouldn't be sharing. "In fact, I'm off to bed myself."
He approached Ellie and kissed her cheek goodnight before disappearing into one of the bedrooms.
Rachel sent a look Sarah's way, one that clearly said: I set you two up together and you blow it? What the hell did you do now? Sarah shook her head and resumed playing with her food.
Then Sarah and Ellie locked eyes. With a heavy sigh, Sarah said, "I'll take one of the couches out here.
Ellie nodded and went into the other bedroom. Suddenly the two agents were left alone. Rachel was obviously frustrated by her counterpart's attitude.
"I gave you a shot," Rachel informed her. "Just remember that."
And with that, Rachel followed Chuck into the bedroom.
-------------
In the darkened bedroom, the moonlight flooding from the window and basking the room in a soft hue, Chuck lay on the king sized bed. The only bed in the room.
Despite the fact he would shortly be sharing a bed with a gorgeous woman, Chuck was utterly calm. He merely stared up at the ceiling, hands folded across his chest, a thoughtful expression upon his face, his mind trying to wrap around his current situation.
"Are you okay in there?" he finally called to the bathroom.
"Yes," was his answer. "I'll be there in a moment."
True to her word, Rachel appeared a few moments later. Chuck breathed sharply in response, for as Rachel stepped out of the bathroom, he bore witness to a vision he didn't expect. But he was witness to just that: a vision.
Once more, Rachel's hair was returned to its natural color. It hung loosely about her face, still a bit damp from the recent dye job. So enraptured by the sight of her dark red hair, it took a few moments to realize another fact.
Rachel wore absolutely nothing. Her pale skin practically glowed in the moonlight. But surprisingly enough, it wasn't the near perfection of her figure that drew Chuck's attention.
Chuck could plainly see the evidence of her life as a CIA operative. There was the freshly stitched bullet wound adorning her shoulder. But there was also another similar wound, older and scarred over, marring her otherwise flawless stomach.
Chuck sat upright, entranced. As he moved closer, his gaze poured over her body, examining each and every bit of evidence. And Rachel merely stood there. Momentarily he was distracted as she shyly tucked a stray wet strand of hair behind her ear. He noticed how the pinky finger was slightly crooked, evidence of a bad break and improper healing.
There was a straight wound along her inner right bicep, about two inches long, possibly from a knife. Then there was a scar on her right leg, below the knee running along the shin. A surgical incision.
Rachel slowly turned, revealing her backside. Again, after taking note of her exquisite form, Chuck's eyes were then drawn to her back, just behind her right ribs. Evidence of burns. And then, along her left side, above the hip, what looked to be a puncture wound.
As she continued to slowly turn for his examination, he noticed a myriad of other small nicks and scars, souvenirs of her occupation. And as she once more faced him, Chuck saw how she made no effort to cover the bruises of her fight with Sarah. Her face was dotted in green and purplish blotches.
She looked absolutely beautiful.
"I'm damaged, Chuck," she finally whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And not just because of the CIA. My life has been..." She laughed, completely devoid of humor, but filled with a lifetime of pain.
"I've done things," she continued. "And I've had things done to me. Things that I'll never fully recover from. But I..."
Her eyes sparkled from unshed tears. She so desperately needed to convey what she was feeling, but words seemed to pitifully woeful. Chuck waited patiently for her.
"If there's one thing Heinrich tried to teach me it's that when you're in love, you should never have to hide who you truly are. You should never have to hide your scars."
Then, in an instant, some semblance of the empowered agent was back. She met his gaze. Chuck shivered at the sheer intensity and heat. "I wasn't good enough for Heinrich. And I'm not good enough for you. But if you'll have me, I will make you a solemn promise. I will never hide my scars from you."
Chuck closed his eyes as Rachel leaned in and softly brushed her lips against his.
END PART
Oh yeah, that's how I end it. What are gonna do about it? None of you know where I live. Seriously folks, please review. It'll probably get Chapter 18 completed faster.