Title: De profundis (part 2/?)
Author: That'd be me. *grins* Andrew, Obsidian, call me what you want. But only if it's nice. ;)
Rating: I think this'll end up staying somewhere along the T/PG-13 area.
Comments: Wow, I didn't think this would be my first D.E.B.S. fic. But the idea just wouldn't leave me alone, so... Well, hopefully, someone will enjoy it. It is just a bit dark, so be warned.
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own 'D.E.B.S.' That belongs to the fabulously talented Angela Robinson.
De profundis - Up from the depths (of misery)
Max froze. Amy wasn't... No, she couldn't be doing what Max was thinking. Of course, that had to be it. Amy wouldn't try to kill herself. That just... wasn't Amy.
Was falling in love with Lucy Diamond an Amy thing to do?
Max tried to hang on to her rationalization, but that one thought blew most of it away. No, falling for a criminal - and a female criminal, at that - had not been in character for Amy.
At least, not in the character that she usually presented to the D.E.B.S.
Do you think, after Endgame, Mister P. might let me have some time off?
Usually.
There's this art school in Barcelona...
"What do you think you're doing?" she blurted suddenly.
Amy looked back at her again, that same mix of sadness and relief on her face. "You know."
"No, I don't." Her voice was getting louder, as if sheer volume could make what was happening suddenly untrue. "I obviously don't, because you wouldn't do something like this!"
Amy laughed, but there was no real humor in it. "And you think you know me so well?"
"What if she really loves her? If you were [b]really[/b] Amy's best friend, you'd probably let her go."
"Well, maybe I want you to say it. You're really gonna do this, you look me in the eyes and tell me so."
Amy did just that. "I'm going to jump. Or, you know, fall, really. But the end result's the same, no matter what you call it."
Again, Max froze. She realized that despite everything she'd been seeing, and hearing, part of her had still been hoping that she was wildly misinterpreting the situation, that she was wrong.
She'd never thought that she'd ever hope to be wrong about something before.
"Why?" she asked, hoarsely.
"Well, it seems a bit easier then shooting myself, not to mention less of a hassle to cle-"
"Dammit, you know what I mean!" she interrupted angrily.
Amy didn't seem upset. It was as if she'd moved beyond little things like getting annoyed when Max shouted at her now. "I told you. I can't... I can't do this anymore. I can't live like this. I won't."
Okay, Max thought, swallowing hard. Okay, you have to try and talk her down from this. Yes, it's not your field, and you're really not that great at dealing with emotional issues, but you're the only one here.
Damn, but she suddenly wished Janet was there.
"If you really hate the job that much," she began, "why not just quit? You could go to that art school you talked about."
Amy just shook her head, sighing, and leaned back against the railing. A little too far back for Max's comfort, but even she knew better then to make any sudden moves. "When was the last time you saw me drawing anything? At all?"
Max thought about that. After most missions, when they were on plane heading home, Amy always had a sketch pad... Except that lately she'd been listening to music, reading something, or sleeping. But when they were in L.A., Amy would... No, she'd also spent that time reading. And her off duty hours were filled with tv shows, movies, time on the internet, clubs... Sometimes, clubs with Dominique, though Amy would inevitably come home alone (the French agent would eventually turn up much later, looking rather satisfied).
Amy saw Max's hesitation and nodded. "Eight months," she filled in for her. "I haven't been able to draw anything for the last eight months. I've tried, but it just won't flow. I couldn't go to art school now if I wanted to."
Max winced. She may not have been the most sensitive person in the D.E.B.S., but she did know how much her art meant to Amy. It was her outlet, her stress relief, the valve that she poured all her frustration, happiness, anxiety, sadness, and all the other excess emotions she felt into. Without that...
Well, without that, things tended to build up. Case in point...
"And you never considered therapy? Talking to someone?"
"All anyone would have done would be to try and convince me to set everything aside, to concentrate on being the perfect agent. I don't want that. I never did."
"You seemed to like it well enough before."
"I... did like the feeling of helping people. I was good at it, too. Not perfect, though. Never perfect. And... the charm wore off, I guess. Now, there's... nothing. Max, when I wake up in the morning, I have no reason to get out of bed. None. Oh, I did it anyway, because people were counting on me, but it meant... It means nothing. There's nothing to look forward to. Nothing to live for."
"What about us?" The question was asked in a quieter tone then anyone had ever heard Max Brewer use before. "Janet and Dom and me. We care about you."
Amy smiled warmly, but Max still felt chilled by it. "I know. And I want you to know that it was the three of you that made this last year even remotely bearable. Without you, I don't think I would have lasted the first two months. I really did like working with you, Max. And I don't blame you for what you did. You only wanted to help me, after all, and Lucy showed just how important I wasn't to her." She paused. "I'm glad you're here, actually. I mean, did write a note - it's in my suitcase - but I did kind of want to say goodbye in person. I love all three of you. Always remember that."
"Amy, you can't DO this!"
"Yes, I can." She shook her head in a horrible parody of amusement. "Do you remember that mad scientist, Mack, that we ran into three months ago?"
Confused by the sudden subject change, Max nodded warily. "Of course I do. That was one of the first times we got to use the transporter unsupervised."
"Then you should also remember how the next time he caught us, he reprogrammed out comms to block the transporter's targeting scanners." Amy held up her left wrist and tapped the watch face. "Because I did."
Damn. She'd been hoping that she could manage to have Ms. Petrie or someone beam Amy away from the edge and into a nice, safe, ground- level room.
Trust the Perfect Score to be one step ahead in that department.
Casting about for something, anything, that would make Amy come inside, she suddenly hit on an idea that was so crazy, it just might work. "Amy," she began, but was immediately interrupted.
"Stay back!" Amy shouted, gripping the railing tightly. The unspoken message that she could hurl herself over the edge long before Max could reach her was sent and received all to clearly.
Max winced. She'd unintentionally taken a step closer when she'd started to speak. "I'm staying back," she said, keeping her hands where Amy could see them. Really, all she wanted to do was lunge across the distance separating them and drag Amy inside, but she knew it wouldn't work. Still, restraining herself was extremely hard. She clung to her desperate idea, hoping against hope that it would work. "But if you want to say goodbye, shouldn't you say it to all of us?"
"You can tell them for me," Amy said, half her attention drifting back to looking contemplatively down at the street.
Oh, God, please let this work... "And just what do you think I'll say?" Seeing Amy's hesitation, she pressed on. "This is ME we're talking about, Amy. If you leave it up to me, what do you think I'll tell Janet and Dom?"
Amy bit her lip uncertainly, then reluctantly nodded. "Okay. You can go get them. But just them." She hopped up to sit on the railing, making it clear that if someone tried to shoot her with a sedative, she'd just fall anyway. "And I won't wait forever."
"Okay, that's fine," Max assured her, trying to keep her voice level and calming. It still wobbled a bit. "Just... give me a little while to find them."
At Amy's nod, Max all but ran out of the room.
Janet had just finished packing up her suitcase - complete with the tracking device for her gun, thank you very much! - when Max burst into her room explosively. Janet yelped and fumbled her gun, but fortunately for all concerned, the safety was on, and she managed to catch it before it hit the ground. "Geez, Max!" she began, but broke off when she caught sight of the wild-eyed look on her squad leader's face.
"Do you still have Scud's phone number?" Max demanded.
Janet blinked. Then she frowned. "Are you still on about that? Look, I know he's-"
"DO YOU HAVE IT?!"
Janet jumped. "I- Yes. Why-?"
"Call him. Now."
"Max, what's going on?"
Max hesitated, her face looking... Janet blinked. Max looked scared.
Max never looked scared.
"Amy's threatening to jump off the balcony."
Again, Janet blinked in surprise. "That really isn't funny, Max."
"Do I look like I'm fucking kidding?"
"But... But she's... What's...? Amy wouldn't..."
"Apparently she would, because she is. The only reason she hasn't yet is because she wants to say goodbye to the three of us in person, and she did something with her comm to keep us from beaming her away. I tried to talk to her, but it didn't work. I can't get through to her now. There's only one person who can, and we both know who that is. So I don't care what you have to do, or how many regs you have to break to do it, but get Lucy Diamond here now!"
To Be Continued...