Chapter 2

That Sunday when things started to go off the rails began sunny and warm with a tinge of humidity that guaranteed the battle of the beds would be both unpleasant and short that afternoon. By now the coffee pot had been on for awhile, and Jackson was dozing in his improvised hammock on the covered patio outback. It was a serene spot with just trees and patches of green lawn slowly coming into focus as the shadows of the morn were giving way to bright sunshine.

Rita was in the basement on a secure line with the co-leads from Group B within Drawer 7. It was just one of three groups still operating under her control. The mission came from the Associate Director. Disrupting foreign networks was their specialty. Rita was briefing them on the key objectives and trying to round up the best staffing for the mission they were tasked with completing. Unfortunately, the conversation had turned contentious. Rita was not buying their recommendations. Rita could have insisted, but that was not her style. Her long years in the field had taught her to rarely, if ever, countermand recommendations from teams tasked with getting the job done.

While climbing the stairs into the daylight, Rita heard the thud of daily paper landing on their rather skimpy front entryway. They were episodic readers of most daily editions, but Sundays were different. That edition was much larger with a whole section devoted to human interest stories that all her subordinates would be surprised to learn she very much liked. Jackson knew of this very odd quirk and just muttered something profane whenever he observed her so avidly engrossed. In a relationship that had lasted as long as theirs, there were foibles one had to accept.

On that particular day the lead story was of particular interest. It was a lengthy and very flattering account of the birth of Lilly Joanna Castle. The newborn and mother, Captain Kate Beckett of the NYPD, were expected home within a day or two of delivery. The delay was expected since Kate was an older first-time mother, and the public was reassured nothing was amiss. The article contained an abnormally large number of family pictures, and she guessed someone in Rick's publishing house was getting high marks for getting all this free publicity.

They all looked enthralled by the new arrival, and that surmise left her wondering how Jackson would take his new status as granddad. They had never discussed starting a family. Their mutual career choice was not one where children would have been a priority. Over the years, they had lost many good agents to the family bug as they called it. It wasn't meant to be derogatory; it was just a fact of life. Almost all married civilians, and the secrecy implicit in their professional lives did not mix well with building a lasting relationship.

Rita and Jackson were a rare exception of coworkers in a long lasting relationship. She was well aware he was far from celebrate before they met. It didn't bother her. She was no prude herself. College and her twenties had been a time to experiment, and she was not bashful about indulging her carnal passions as the opportunities arose.

They had bonded over their extraordinary dedication to the job. Remarkably, neither had strayed since their first serious conversation about a possible future together. It occurred after a harrowing joint op where both saw the very real possibility of their untimely demise flash before their eyes. It was a profound experience that tempered much of their youthful exuberance. Now, many years later, they had settled into a life that valued routine over novelty every time.

All those observations were percolating in her thoughts when she made one of the dumbest comments of her entire life. Jackson was within earshot pouring out the last dregs of the coffee pot when she interrupted his efforts by saying, "God Jacks, your son looks so urbane, and your such a cowboy. Are you sure the two of you are related?"

Seconds later, the look on his face told her she had ignorantly opened a subject she shouldn't have. She was well aware that Jackson's liaison with Martha Rogers was not a subject to be referred to flippantly. His time with Martha Rogers was tinged with an enduring pall of regret. Her decision to become a single mom was an outcome he was not prepared for. His answer was to mostly ignore it and brood privately when his remorse got the best of him. It was an part in his life she was not privy to.

She had a similar niche with Allen, her only true love from college. If things had worked out, she would probably be on a farm herding a couple kids and even more dairy cows. Fanciful notions of that life popped up infrequently now. Allen, like most, had chosen a normal life in the light. She, on the other hand, has chosen to reside in the shadows and even the abyss on occasion.

Her rise in the ranks allowed her to put alerts in the system with hardly any oversight. The alert on Allen was silent except for once. That alert reported he had been in a nasty scuffle with a local bully that sent him to the ER, and the harassment did not stop there. Unfortunately, the local cops were slow walking the investigation because no corroborating witnesses had come forward to counter the alibi presented by the accused.

Rita understood the cop's dilemma. She, on the other hand, was not bound by any of that and opted for a familiar solution that found her on a fake solo vacation in the same town as Allen's nemesis. At the inevitable intervention, she adopted her best menacing persona and strongly suggested that play time with Allen was over. The guy ridiculed her warning and sarcastically dared her to do anything about it.

As a female field agent, she got that alot. The ensuing melee was both brutal and short. All who knew her would be surprised to learn that her opponent got in some punishing blows at the outset. That was intentional. The lesson she intended to convey had both a mental and physical component. Her failure to wither under his barrage would upset his male chauvinistic expectation. The painful smackdown to follow would leave bruises he could not deny.

With those goals in mind, she pounced with a flurry of connecting punches and painful kicks. Soon all that bluster was reduced to a puddle of whining cries professing his total change of heart. She was familiar with such expedient conversions and made sure he understood they would meet again if his actions ran counter to his assurances.

On the trip home, she had plenty of time to research the resort and the weather she supposedly enjoyed. By the time she landed, her summary for Jackson was pretty much committed to memory. Jackson didn't believed that for long. In their bedroom both were not fans of robes, pajamas, or anything else that would hide what God had given them. New marks were hard to miss though he felt no compunction to discuss them. Everyone has secrets, and this was an instance where acceptance was prudent and full disclosure ill-advised.