CHAPTER 74
Before I begin posting the final chapters, I have to tell you what happened along the way while I was tweaking. It wasn't quite flowing as smoothly as I would have liked and I realized that if I wrote it according to the original outline, it was going to end up with an ending that I don't think I would have been happy with. But, if I went where the characters were begging to go, it was going to end up being nearly twice as long.
That's when you ask yourself, what's a girl gonna do?
Well, self came up with an answer, after pondering it for a night. The cast of available characters to play with is fantastic and the possibilities almost endless. The avenues still unexplored, a playground just screaming to be used. And trust me, when my muses scream at me with that much voltage, well, earplugs are useless.
There is only way to do this.
There was only word that came to mind.
Just one, I can assure you.
You guessed it.
I can not ignore the muses.
This is what they said:
………. SEQUEL! ……….
So yes, dear reader, you will notice some intentional loose ends and you might find yourself still looking for some answers.
So will our beloved cast.
But, sometime in the near future, To Catch a Silent Killer will premier, complete with flashbacks, action, romance, angst, and some payback!
Yeah, I know, that's insane, even by Twisted Sister standards, but I have learned you gotta do what the muse wanna do! Besides, when do I conform to conventional, boring old standards?
Well, enough of that, for now. I have a few other words to share with you before allowing you to see the ending.
When I originally drafted this out, I never anticipated it taking on the kind of life that it did and growing into what it eventually became.
I have to thank you for allowing me to take our cast and toss them into this plot, because it was not only a joy to write but also a wonderful chance to take them out of the usual SMK environment.
It was a challenge to get into the heads and the backgrounds of so many different characters, exploring their personalities and pasts, and then to attempt blending it all together with the plot. I can only hope that I stayed as true to them as possible, given the circumstances I threw them into.
My apologies for the shorter chapters, but I wrote it the way my mind visualized it. For me, it was taking what I could see play out and then write it so that you too might see it the same way.
One of my friends compared it to seeing the scenes, as they would play out rather than just reading a book. For me, it was more of a visual story, despite all of the getting into the minds that occurred throughout.
I have to thank so many of the Wicky girls who took time out of their busy lives to "appear" within this one as well.
And a special thanks to Ana's Homer as well!
Thank you, one and all!
If you didn't find yourself appearing in this one, never fear, I think I've acquired a new trademark style.
Along with those cliff hanging endings that just drive you nuts, I think including "cameos" is a wonderful way of paying tribute to the friends who have been so supportive, not only when it comes to me sharing my writing, (which, by the way Blue Leader, I still think sucks!), but in real life as well.
And a big thank you to those involved with SMK originally. All of the little references that are sprinkled throughout this fiction would not have been had it not been for their fabulous work that we all know and love, even to this day.
Thank you to all who've reviewed, encouraged, and even shared a few of your literary spices with me on this journey. It has been, truly, a wonderful journey and I hope you have enjoyed it as well.
If you did enjoy it, well then you can thank Kate Jackson for it. It was her fault, she did that plague movie and I had to watch it and well, this is what happened. (If you haven't seen it and if you like Kate, I recommend giving it a looksee.).
If you didn't like this story, well, I've decided that you can blame Bruce for it.
Why, I don't know, but it only seemed logical. (By the way, my Dad still owes me a copy of Bruce's pandemic movie, seems he didn't set something right when it was on. Dad!)
Of course, as they say, no copyright foul was intended and the only way that I profit from this one is the personal satisfaction and writing experience that I've obtained.
Reviews and suggestions are always welcome and if you noticed anything along the way that needs correcting, please let me know and I will edit accordingly. I've tried to catch all the errors but when you end being in the writing mood at two in the morning or dealing with RL, which for me was so darned crazy that it is a wonder that I ever got this thing off to the launch pad, yet alone in the air, well, you can sometimes miss something.
If, for any reason, you would like to obtain the NC-17 portions, which were written exclusively for the Wicky group, please let me know. As long as you're of age, I will share with you or give you info if you'd like to join Wicky (They are the MOST supportive bunch of friends I've ever been blessed to have!)
And, if you're really interested in posting this elsewhere in SMK land, let me know; though I doubt that has about as much possibility as my meeting a handsome fellow at the train station. Although one can only hope, I should go to the train station this weekend.
As always, Blue Leader has custodial rights, in the event that I should get assigned somewhere like Iceland or the North Pole.
And yes, I have not maimed, dented, scratched, crashed, twisted, bullet-riddled, flame-torched, cliff-tossed, bomb-attached, tire blown, or transmissioned out, the beloved and revered Vette.
Won't happen in one of my fictions, of that I can assure you. I leave that one up to you know who and you know who. Who I still luv anyhow, despite their destructive tendencies!!
On that note, here we go, the concluding chapters of TSK – The Silent Killer.
Enjoy!
Part 1
With the approach of evening came even more rain, the showers staying fairly consistent over the DC area. It had been a long time since the residents had seen rain and felt temperatures that were actually comfortable. It was a much-needed release from the heat wave that had hung over them without mercy for entirely far too long.
But, while the normal denizens around the nation's capitol were enjoying the respite, the members within the intelligence community were still a long way from obtaining their own release from the silent terror that had been unleashed upon them.
There was still much work to do, there were still bodies that needed time to heal, and there were still battle scars that remained to be inflicted upon the innocent and unsuspecting.
Lives had been changed or, even lost. Promising careers had either been brought to an abrupt end or now held previously unrecognized possibilities of change. Those that lived, breathed, and died to protect their nation and her vital secrets now found themselves on a different path, very much altered from the one that they had been on a week ago.
Even the innocence of youth, the belief that everything within one's own personal little sphere of influence was nothing less than perfect, was about to be shattered.
The ramifications of the silent killer were still there, the nightmare very real, very dark, and still very deadly.
PART 2
Looking up from where he sat, playing yet another game of checkers with the boy, he saw who had entered the room. At that moment, he felt it, the old and yet still raw emotions from an earlier battle.
He sympathized with them, knowing what was to come and knowing that both of them would have given anything to change the fates, just like he had wanted to. He foresaw the demons that would come to plague them in the middle of the darkened night, could imagine their unshed tears and muted cries that accompanied a shattered heart.
He could see it displayed in the hazel of his friend's eyes and written on the kind face of the mother who would not be able to kiss away the pain of this wound like she had done with so many earlier ones.
Giving the boy a warm smile, he arose from his chair and promised to finish the game at a later time, all the while knowing the simplicity and enjoyment for such things would be a long time in returning.
As he moved towards them, still standing in the doorway and looking nothing like the confident team he had come to know and respect, he gave a sympathetic look towards the man and then, when he had reached them, placed a gentle hand on her arm, hoping to convey his respect towards this loss and to impart some extra strength that would be greatly needed in the coming days and nights.
And then, he silently left the room and closed the door, leaving them alone with the heartbreaking task that would shatter yet another innocent heart among the young.
He forced himself to move down the corridor and found himself face to face with yet another victim of this silent murderer. She had the slightest trace of visible tears in her eyes, her normally calm and almost icy persona broken down. The invisible fortress that she had surrounded herself within, crumbled. Crumbled from the invisible attacker against the mortar that had held it firmly in place.
He held out his arms to her and, not all that surprisingly, she accepted his silent offer of comfort in this moment where they shared the grief of their friends and coworkers.
Rulebook be damned, he thought. Although the wording upon the written page may have cautioned against the formation of and the continued participation in personal relationships outside the zone of work related matters, the human beings beneath that existed within the agents were still that, humans. Humans who possessed real emotions, sensations and feelings that could not be ignored, despite the damned rulebook.
Over the years, they had developed respect and camaraderie, quirky relationships that may have consisted of almost childish battles, emotionless behaviors and odd habits. Despite it all, they had become a family, of sorts. A family that had served as a substitute for the many who had not sought out one of their own or had perhaps lost theirs along the way as he had.
And so, standing together, they grieved silently. And then, when the time would come, they would stand behind those who needed it, supporting and sharing during the darkest of hours.
This silent killer that had been unleashed among them may have taken lives but it had not destroyed the ability to still do one of the most important things that one agent could do for another. They would watch each other's backs, they would be there for another when the call to duty sounded its mourning wail and, when the day finally returned, they would be there to share in the sweet joy of laughter together.
Part 3
Colonel Thomas McJohn sat in the quiet of his office, in the dimness that he had created by turning off almost all of the room's lights.
In the envelope that he held in his hand, he knew what he would find. The Presidential seal served as a forerunner of the script within, the many questions that needed answers. He'd heard the hushed echoes of the rumors within the hushed walls and now, the seal only confirmed what he would find when he opened it.
How many lives had been lost and how many could have been saved?
What could be done against future reoccurrence?
Could and would it happen again?
And, even if it wasn't specifically written in there, the Colonel wanted to know if the culprits, the very instruments of the devil himself, had been located.
Lying the envelope down on his desk, he knew that it was still early days yet. A lot of work had yet to be done, once those who so bravely served their nation were back up and healthy enough to do so.
If he were a betting man he would bet on their side. The home team would play this game out and he pitied those who had participated for the other side.
The home team did not take kindly to fatal blows and far too many had been dealt. The NSC had lost a total of five individuals, the CIA had lost three, and the FBI had lost two. The Agency herself had been dealt a cruel hand with three fatalities. They'd lost not only their director, but one freshman agent candidate and one woman who had served them for years, steadfastly working her life throughout many positions until she had come to guard the Georgetown foyer with a firm hand and, from what he'd heard, an occasional smile.
But it was civilian life lost that bothered the Colonel the most.
A good man, a lawyer who had lived his life to uphold the rights for those who needed a champion to uphold them when they couldn't do it for themselves. A loving father who should still have been among them to witness the many achievements of his two boys who still had many goals to accomplish. A promising life snuffed out too quickly as far as McJohn was concerned. A promising life snuffed out because of the fateful connection to the Agency through one of her employees.
And so, yes, McJohn knew that he would accept the President's request. If not for the agents who had been lost, if not out of respect for the loss of civilians, if for neither of those reasons, he still had one that made it important to take on this new challenge.
It was for the two young sons who had been left fatherless; it was for the families of those who had died at the hands of something that they had not even been able to see. It was for the heartbreak and for the loss and for the tears that had been and still would be shed for those who had fallen.
His decision made, he placed the envelope on the top of the stack of other papers that sat in his incoming bin.
There was work to be done and once he was rested, once the members of the team were ready to play again, McJohn welcomed the opportunity to venture to the playing field. And, one by one, they would bring the devils down and score yet another victory in the name of the free and the brave.
Epilogue
Monday, August 10th, 1987 – Arlington, Virginia
He waited; leaning against the side of the car that was currently parked on the grassy knoll near the edge of the cemetery. Patiently, he stood and watched, surrounded by the grand old trees that stood silent guard over those who had left this realm for the unknown whatever on the other side. A light wind rustled the leaves that would eventually begin the progression of change that would highlight the world around them with the brilliant colors of the fall, leaving this summer to fade away into just another memory.
He stood there, because of change. Like the trees around them, their world had shifted, whether they had wanted it to or not. Like the weather, they had no control over it. They could only ride it out and pray for the best.
He knew that he had done far more praying this year than he had ever done in his life. And, as he lovingly gazed down at her slender form kneeling in front of the headstone that resided among the many others, he realized that change was because of her.
The woman that he had fallen hopelessly in love with, the woman who could make him smile so easily and who had the uncanny ability to calm the savage beast that still raged within him with merely the gentle touch of her hand or a soft look towards him from her beautiful brown eyes.
His wife, the woman who, in his personal opinion, had had far too many personal battles to wage and who should have run in the opposite direction from him a long time ago. Instead, she had given him her heart and soul, her love and her life.
A life which, even now, weeks after the devastation, was still in turmoil, a life which he longed to fix and make better but instead, still found himself floundering as to how to accomplish that.
Time, he had been told, would be the best healer. Time and love and patience, mixed with a little therapy from the Agency shrink who predicted that the things sent askew in the universe would be righted and that life would become more than just trying to get through one day at a time.
And so, on the advice of the very same shrink, they had come here today and he stood waiting, loving her even more for the courage that she had and knowing from personal experience how hard this journey had been for her to make.
He watched her fidget with the bouquet of flowers that she had brought, moving them as though their resting spot were the most important thing of the day.
He watched as her hand came up to her face. He knew, without seeing her face, that she was brushing away the tears. Tears that still fell, sometimes in the middle of the night or at times when she was with her sons, and even once in awhile when she sat at her desk.
Maybe, once upon a time, a long time ago, he might have been jealous. But not today, the jealousy was long gone. Today he simply wished that he could take away her pain, their pain, and make things right for the family that he now called his own.
Time and patience, Doctor Tootie-fruity had recommended. Those were words that once would not have fit into his personality description. But, again, because of her, that had changed. He would give them time and he would be patient, he would wait and one day his family would heal.
But right now, his patience was limited and he found his long legs carrying him down the knoll to stand behind his wife. He leaned over and placed his palms on her shoulders, pressing lightly to let her know that he was standing with her, hurting with her as well.
And then, she stood slowly and turned to face him, her brown eyes damp with tears but the faint beginnings of that beautiful smile upon her lovely face.
"Thank you," she whispered softly.
"Isn't needed," he replied as he leaned down and kissed her lips gently.
She rested her palms on his chest, rubbing them up and down slightly against the warmth of the man that she loved more than anything. The man who so unselfishly allowed her time to mourn the loss of the first who had held her heart before him. The man who would do anything for her and for her sons because he simply loved them, because they were now his family.
"I love you," Amanda whispered.
"And I love you, Mrs. Stetson," he replied.
Lee reached up and took her smaller hands in his.
"Ready to go home?" he asked her.
"Yeah, I think I am," she responded.
Together, hand in hand, the husband and wife walked back to the silver car that awaited them for the drive back home. And, while the journey along the road back to normality and healing might not be as easy to traverse, together, hand in hand, they were traveling it.
Together, she thought.
She looked at him and smiled and was promptly rewarded by one his dimpled grins.
She knew that things would improve; that in time their lives would be less complicated and filled with happiness instead of quiet sorrow.
Okay, maybe scratch the less complicated portion, she thought.
But, looking now at the man who held her hand, she was assured that they would get through this. As a team, as friends, as a family.
Amanda stopped walking and tugged his hand, pulling him close to her. And, for the first time in what seemed a lifetime, Lee was rewarded by a passionate sparkle in her dark eyes as she stood up on her toes. She covered his mouth with her own, giving Lee a kiss that reassured him that not everything had been lost when the deadly killer had taken so much from them.
Tuesday, August 11th, 1987 – An undisclosed location in Moscow
In the tiny room there was a table, an old but beautifully hand-crafted table that still gleamed from the love of the hands that had crafted her. Several matching chairs surrounded and they were occupied. Occupied by men who had long ago traded their souls with the devil and taken steps on a path towards a meaningless victory in the name of patriotism.
Tonight they celebrated, over food and vodka, drinking in honor of those who had paved their way and in anticipation of the glory that would be bestowed upon them.
But, as they drank and cheered their victory over the already fallen American soldiers and anticipated their still as yet to be divulged and finalized next plan of attack, they lacked one thing.
The knowledge that outside, lurking in the dark edges of the Russian night and, as quiet as the killer that they had unleashed, a new enemy awaited.
A new enemy that was hell bent on bringing their victory crashing down around their smiling faces and leaving nothing but fragmented remains.
Remnants that, when all was said and done, would resemble the shards that remained once the beauty of the crystal glasses were shattered.
The End, at least until the Sequel arrives :)
Respectfully submitted,
Twisted Sister - the totally unconventional and completely demented nun who has traumatized wicky like no other & they still haven't kicked me out, LOL