Ghosts That Haunt—5
As it turned out, Mariah didn't go to the Buy More the next day. She woke up feeling unwell, and when she went downstairs to make coffee, she wound up bent over the toilet. She threw up another three times, and after the third time, she decided to just go back to bed. She called Chuck and told him she was sick, and then she called the Buy More to tell them she wasn't well and wouldn't be in.
Every time she got up to eat something that day, she was nauseous. Ellie came over to check on her and bring her some soup, and Mariah was embarrassed that the second she smelled it, she had to rush for the bathroom. When she came back out, she swallowed down the nausea the scent caused, puzzled because the soup was, in fact, one of her favorites. Ellie took her temperature, which was normal, and then suggested perhaps she'd eaten something that gave her a tummy bug. She left Mariah the soup, told her to heat it up and eat some when she felt better. Then she left her after making her promise to call if she needed her.
When she woke the next day, Mariah felt fine and wrote it off as just something she ate after all.
It happened again three days later, and this time Mariah noticed it was smells that set her off every time. That seemed very odd to her. She made it to work, but when Jeff and Lester's lunch delivery order showed up, she shoved away from the Nerd Herd desk and ran, barely making it to the bathroom before she vomited. She made the run another three times that afternoon, and Chuck, apparently noticing her pallor, asked her if she was okay.
They had ridden in to work together since they worked the same shift. Chuck drove them home, and Mariah closed her eyes, feeling worn out and a little nauseous. Chuck tried to make her go home with him so Ellie could check her out. By then, Mariah had suspicions about what kept causing her bouts of illness.
She had called her aunt Lydia when she first started sleeping with John, had gone to her for an exam and a prescription for birth control pills, and Mariah knew she should call her now. She decided to find out if what she suspected was true before she did so, so she dressed as though she were going for a run and left the apartment. Ellie was on her way over, so she stopped, waited for Mariah to reach her.
"Chuck said you weren't feeling well."
Mariah shrugged. "No, I haven't felt very well today, but I feel better now. I thought I'd take a short run before dinner."
They made a little small talk, and then Ellie let her go. Mariah wasn't going for a run, though; she was headed to the local pharmacy. She walked slowly when she left the apartment complex, wanting to draw this out long enough to look like she had done what she'd told Ellie she intended. When she reached the store, she took her time finding what she wanted, read the labels more thoroughly than was necessary, chose what she wanted, stood patiently in the longest line, and then made her way slowly home. She considered herself lucky not to have met anyone from the Bartowski household when she let herself in the apartment.
Upstairs in the bathroom, she removed the box from the bag, read the instructions inside, followed them, and waited. Then she sat there on the side of the tub, stunned, and stared numbly at the white stick that claimed she was pregnant.
Her reaction seemed odd to her, perhaps because she felt like she was looking at herself from somewhere outside. She knew it was just shock. She seized for a moment, afraid she'd have a panic attack, and she did what she had been taught to try and ward it off: breathed carefully but not too deeply, focused on happy thoughts. She had an uptick of panic for a brief moment when she realized the idea she was pregnant was a happy thought.
When she felt under control once more, she considered what came next: facing her parents and telling them, though she didn't look forward to dealing with her mother given the circumstances; telling Emma, which would go relatively well; and then there was telling John.
Or not.
Mariah closed her eyes. John was a whole separate layer of fear. He had made it perfectly plain he didn't want her to get pregnant, yet she had managed to do it anyway. Now he was gone without having left a single word for her. There were other emotional layers: the selfish layer where she feared what this meant to her career, the layer that doubted she could do this on her own, the one that worried she'd make any child of hers a bigger mess than she herself was.
She needed to talk to her aunt. Lydia would help her decide what to do, and, best of all, she wouldn't be judgmental, would simply listen while Mariah sorted through her mess. When Lydia picked up, she asked if she could come see her.
Her aunt paused before asking why. Mariah found she couldn't get the words out. "Mariah, are you okay?"
She heard the concern in her aunt's voice, and she burst into tears. "We're coming over," Lydia said, and Mariah felt relieved until she realized what her aunt had said.
"We?" she asked cautiously.
"Your mother's here."
She panicked. "No!" She didn't want anyone at the NSA to know just yet, and she could hardly take her mother and her aunt upstairs to have this conversation. Even if she did, she suspected her mother's outrage would be loud enough for the downstairs surveillance to pick it up. "Let me come to you."
"Mariah—"
"Lydia, the apartment has eyes and ears. I don't need an audience for this."
A long silence followed. Then Lydia gave her instructions for how to find her apartment.
It was Ariel Taylor who opened the door and hugged her when she burst into tears, and it was her mother who sat with her on the couch and held her while she cried. Mariah had told no one in her family that John had left, but she supposed her father surely knew. Apparently, he hadn't shared the information with her mother. Ariel asked her about John, asked if he'd done something to her, and Mariah cried that much harder when she did. When she finally cried herself out, when she finally had herself under control, she sniffled and then baldly told her mother, "I'm pregnant."
She felt her mother stiffen. "Oh, Mariah," she said softly, and hugged her tightly. "Does Casey know?"
Mariah shook her head, and more tears came. "He's gone, and I don't know where he is."
Ariel pulled her close again. "Mariah," she said softly. "What do you mean he's gone?"
She explained, told her mother that things had been going well, and then he was just gone, his things not long afterward.
Lydia handed her a glass of water and sat down on the other side of her. "I assume you took a home pregnancy test?" Mariah nodded. Her aunt said, "You'll come in early with me, and we'll run some tests, check a few things out, okay?"
"I have to work tomorrow," she said, despite knowing the Buy More was the least of her worries at the moment.
"I promise to have you to the job on time," Lydia said with a gentle smile. "Mariah, do you have any idea how far along you might be?"
She tried to count back, but she couldn't remember when she'd last had her period. Lydia asked questions, and Mariah answered them. She told Lydia about what she now knew was morning sickness and about how her clothes were beginning to get a little snug. She told her she tired easily, especially in the afternoons.
When Lydia finally quit asking questions, her mother, who had largely been silent, asked, "Have you thought about what you want to do?" Mariah looked up at her and shook her head. She was still getting used to the idea that she was pregnant. She hadn't had time to think about whether she wanted to have a baby or not. As soon as she thought it, though, she knew she did and said so. "Unlike a lot of women," her mother said, "you can at least afford to raise a child on your own. It'll mean significant changes in your career, and you should consider that. If you don't want the child, well, there are options."
"I need to think about it, Mum," she said. There was no thinking about, though. She said what she did solely to placate her mother.
Ariel hugged her and kissed her cheek. "Whatever you want, Mariah. We'll help you."
And that, Mariah thought, was why despite how rarely her mother had been there when she was growing up, despite how often she lectured her about what she should do, despite how her mother disapproved of so much of her life, Mariah loved her. When she absolutely needed her, her mother was generally there, generally supportive, generally protective.
Lydia suggested she spend the night with them. Mariah nodded, suddenly too weary to go home, and she put on the pajamas her aunt found for her and crawled into bed. She called Sarah Walker and told her she was staying with her aunt since her mother was visiting. Mariah nearly panicked when the other woman asked how she was feeling, relaxed only when Walker went on to say Chuck had told her she hadn't felt well lately. Mariah said she seemed to have some low-grade flu or something.
For once, she went right to sleep and stayed that way until morning.
The questionnaire Lydia had her complete seemed endless. It also drove home the fact that she knew very little about John when she was unable to answer much of anything other than date of birth, race, and occupation. She listed his military service there rather than his NSA affiliation since she had no idea who might see her paperwork in Lydia's practice. She knew nothing of his medical history, knew nothing of his family history other than his father was deceased.
Lydia confirmed her pregnancy, talked to her about diet, about exercise, about taking prenatal vitamins, and she talked to Mariah about the changes her body would go through, about what would happen emotionally, and about the need for regular checkups.
When Mariah left, she had a lot to think about, so she remained distracted most of the day. It didn't help that her father called midmorning and told her to phone him on her break. Her mother had, apparently, lost no time calling him. When she talked to him, confirmed she was pregnant, he offered to find John for her. She told him no. One thing she had decided was that she didn't want John coming back solely because he felt responsible for her condition. If he came back, she wanted him to do so because he wanted her.
She didn't want to admit that his paranoia about the chance of her getting pregnant made her want to keep him away until it was too late to do anything other than have the baby. It wasn't fair, she knew, but it was how she felt. John had made it very clear that he didn't want children. Mariah did, though she admitted this wasn't the way she wanted them.
Mariah tried hard not to think about the possibility that if he knew, she might never see or hear from him again.
A pounding headache plagued Mariah most of the day. Lydia had told her to scale back her caffeine intake, so she had cut out coffee. On her afternoon break, she went to the coffee place down from Orange Orange where, after beating back temptation, she ordered a vanilla bean smoothie. She sat at one of the tables and read her morning newspaper.
"Hi."
Mariah looked up to see a blond, blandly handsome man in a Large Mart vest. She returned to her reading.
"Mind if I join you?"
She looked up to say she did, only to find he'd already taken the chair opposite her.
"So you work at Buy More?" Since the clothes and her name badge made that obvious, she ignored his question, kept her eyes trained on the page in front of her. "I'm Tom, by the way. Tom Baker."
She snorted at that. "As in Doctor Who?" she asked, but kept her attention on her newspaper.
"Ah, you do speak," he said.
She ignored him.
"So," he tried again, "I'm new here, and I wondered if you might like to show me around, maybe go to dinner."
"I have a boyfriend," she said, taking care to sound bored beyond belief, and turned the page. "He's six-four and could kill you with his thumb—would, if he knew you were pestering me."
He put a finger on the top of her newspaper and bent it down. "I don't see a boyfriend."
She stole one of John's grunts and slipped the newspaper out from under Baker's finger. She folded it and tucked it under her arm before she picked up her purse and cup. She stood and walked away, hoped he stayed seated because she wasn't about to look around and possibly encourage him.
That evening, Chuck bummed a ride home with her, but she didn't mind the company. What she did mind was seeing the man from the coffee shop entering an apartment across the courtyard. She made a mental note to find out when that apartment had changed tenants.
After she had changed and eaten a light supper, she settled on the couch with her aunt's book. Several years earlier, Lydia had written a bestselling pregnancy book, and Mariah had swung by a bookstore and bought a copy. She had removed the dust jacket and left it upstairs to help hide what she was reading in case she was being watched. She flipped on the television to one of the twenty-four hour news channels to provide a little noise, but she set the volume low enough it was simply a murmur.
She was engrossed in her reading when she heard a knock on the door. She figured it for Ellie or Chuck, so she didn't drop the alarm panel and look to see who was outside. When she opened the door, she wished she had. "Mr. Baker."
He gave her a chagrined smile. "I just realized we're neighbors."
Mariah chose not to reply.
"I was serious about dinner, by the way," he said, and he gave her what was probably a charming smile, though it did absolutely nothing for her.
"I was serious about the boyfriend," she retorted, and moved to close the door.
"Wait!"
She stopped, waited, and was disgusted that she did so.
"We got off on the wrong foot," he said. "Maybe we should try again."
Mariah gave him a hard stare. "I don't think so." She closed the door, ignored his further protests.
She called Sarah Walker, explained that there was a new tenant in the complex and asked her to check him out. She gave her Baker's name and description, and then she ended the call.
Two days later Mariah was bent over a laptop at the Nerd Herd desk. Anna Wu, who was also at the desk, said a soft, "Wow." Mariah looked up and then followed Anna's line of sight. A woman with a huge bouquet of roses approached the desk. Mariah felt a stab of jealousy that the other woman had someone who thought enough of her to send such gorgeous flowers. She wondered who that was since the Taiwanese girl and Morgan Grimes were currently on the outs.
"Mariah Taylor?" the woman asked, and Mariah blinked, shocked. Then warmth spread through her. They must be from John, she thought.
She tipped the delivery woman, and then she stood there, smiled like an idiot. They were beautiful, big, deep red blooms just beginning to open. Chuck walked up and said, "I see you heard from Casey." Her smile broadened.
Jeff Barnes raised the first doubts for her, though, by asking, "What's the occasion?"
Mariah's smile faded a bit. It was a good question. John had only sent her flowers once, and she suspected that had been more about telling her he was coming to take her to dinner than for her birthday. She plucked up the envelope with the card, and her face hardened when she tore it open and read the enclosed card: What does a guy have to do to get you to go to dinner with him? It was signed Tom. She made a disgusted sound and scooped up the flowers. "Right. I've had more than enough of this."
She stalked out of the store and headed toward Large Mart. She walked in and headed for the customer service desk. "Where can I find Tom Baker?" she asked. She strode to electronics where she saw him leaning against the display case holding MP3 players. He straightened as she bore down on him. She shoved the flowers at him and bit out, "Do the words restraining order mean anything to you?"
He grinned at her. "I take it you didn't like the flowers."
She narrowed her eyes. "Leave me alone," she ground out. "For the last time, I'm taken."
His grin broadened. "Really? You don't wear a ring, and I haven't seen you with anyone."
"Dude, remember when we told you about that big, scary guy from the Buy More?" someone squeaked to Mariah's left. She didn't turn to see who, kept her furious stare on Baker, who turned to set the vase of roses on the counter behind him. "That's his girlfriend. You really don't want him pissed off at you."
"Frankly, you don't want me pissed off at you, either," she said tightly. "Leave me alone. Got it?"
"Going to sic your invisible boyfriend on me?" Her temper ticked up at the taunt, especially since she couldn't send John after him. He crossed his arms, clearly not in the least intimidated. "You can't blame a guy for trying," he said, and a hint of a smirk crossed his features.
"Oh, but I can," she ground out and turned to walk away. She saw that Chuck had followed her, but she ignored him as she walked past him. Sarah Walker was there, too, and Mariah got the feeling there was something going on here she ought to know. She was too angry to question it then, though.
She seethed the rest of the day. After a couple of days, she began to relax, thought he had finally gotten the message, but he caught her on her way to break one afternoon, and cornered her against the concrete wall. "Look," he said, "you and I both know there's no boyfriend, so why don't you be a little more friendly." He raised his brows. "Let me take you to dinner tonight."
Mariah felt her chest tighten, knew it was partly panic at how he crowded her and partly pain that it was true there was no boyfriend. "Approach me again," she said through gritted teeth, used the anger she felt toward John to lend some weight to her words, "and I'll file a complaint."
He gave her that All-American smile, and she had an almost overwhelming urge to hit him. He stroked her cheek, and she flinched. "I like a woman with a little fire," he said, and she was certain most women would find that voice of his sexy. It left her cold and more than a little tense. "You're pretty when you're angry."
"Leave me alone." She hoped that came out with authority. At least he backed off, let her go where she was headed, and she decided she'd spend future breaks in the Buy More.
A few days later, she came home to more flowers and a note on her doorstep. She opened the note only long enough to see his name at the bottom before she picked up the daisies and walked to the dumpster, shoved them inside before returning to let herself into her apartment. Chuck, who had been with her, followed her. "Mariah," he said. "What's going on?"
Turning to him, she snapped, "Our new neighbor, the one who works at Large Mart, keeps hitting on me."
Chuck's mouth worked a second, but no words came out. Finally, he said, "About that."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Awesome likes him. Apparently, they're both into extreme tiddlywinks or something." He bit his lip nervously. "I know Ellie invited you to dinner tonight, and he's going to be there."
She ground her teeth a moment. "Tell your sister I'm not feeling well."
Chuck took her by her arms, but she jerked away from him. "Mariah, please come. I don't like him any more than you do, and neither does Sarah. Ellie certainly doesn't like him."
Mariah sighed. "Really, Chuck, I'm tired, and I don't want to sit at the same table with that man."
"I get it, Mariah. I get that you miss Casey, and I get that Tom's persistent—and maybe a little creepy—but Ellie's worried about you, and she'll only worry more if you don't come."
That was certainly true, Mariah thought. Ellie was her self-appointed watchdog, and if she didn't show for dinner, Ellie would come over after her. "You don't play fair, Chuck."
He grinned at her. "Does that mean you're coming?"
She nodded and glanced at the clock. "I don't suppose you'd wait for me to change and then walk me over?"
He dropped onto the couch and picked up the remote control.
She flipped through the clothes in her closet, realized she was going to have to buy new ones before much longer, and to hold the panic that thought induced at bay, she finally pulled a French blue cotton blouse from its hanger. She buttoned it and pulled on a pair of jeans that used to be loose on her but now were snug in the waist, realized that when she had to start wearing looser clothing, it would be harder to hide that she was pregnant. She fished through her jewelry box for a pair of cufflinks, located a set of plain gold ovals, one slightly bent, from the turn of the twentieth century that she had bought in a vintage clothing store several years earlier. She threaded them through the French cuffs of the blouse and stepped into a pair of simple sandals, and considered how to get her father to recall her before she had to reveal that she was having a baby.
Downstairs, Chuck sat looking at a book, and Mariah froze on the last step when she realized what he held. He'd heard her on the stairs and stood, the book in his hand. He lifted it but said nothing. She walked to him, took it, looked at the spine, and said, "My aunt is Lydia Pentangeli."
"So you're reading this because she wrote it?" he asked. Mariah could hear the plea to confirm his conclusion behind the words.
"In part," she said. She studied him a moment. She could read his face plainly, could see concern, could spot a slight panic in his eyes. She wondered at that panic, wondered if he'd do something foolish, wondered if he'd tell John, and for the first time it occurred to her that he might know where John was. She sucked in a breath, felt tears well, and made herself not ask. Then, she felt her own panic, closed her eyes tightly a moment, and said, "I don't want anyone to know, Chuck."
"So you're . . . ?" he asked, waving a hand at her abdomen. She nodded. "And Casey?"
She shook her head. Then she chewed her lower lip, thought carefully. "I don't know where he is, Chuck, and I have no way to get in touch with him. Even if I could, I'm not sure I would."
"Wh-why not?" She could read the confusion on his face, in his eyes, and she wished she had simply said nothing.
"He doesn't need to worry about me if he's deep undercover, and he is, or I would have heard from him by now." It was a lie, she acknowledged, but until she was told otherwise, she would maintain the cover. "In the meantime, I'm not ready to tell anyone, so I'm going to ask you to keep this to yourself. Don't even tell Sarah, okay?"
"Ellie—"
"Not even Ellie," she cut him off. "I'm still getting used to it myself. I'm just not ready to share it, especially since I can't tell John. He really should have been the first to know."
When she had his promise not to tell anyone, they went to the Bartowski apartment together. Ellie gave them an odd look when they walked in, and even Sarah Walker's look was speculative. Mariah had clearly changed from work, something Chuck was now on his way to do. Mariah asked if there was anything she could do to help Ellie, and she was put to work finishing setting the table. As she placed the last fork, Devon and Baker came in, laughing. She was suddenly tense, and she wondered why her reaction to Baker was such strong dislike.
Devon introduced the two of them, and when Baker held out his hand and said, "Call me Tom," she gave him a placid stare and ignored the hand. She didn't much care that she was being rude. She watched his smile fade, and he dropped his hand. She joined Ellie in the kitchen. The other woman looked at her oddly, but she gave Mariah a task to keep her in the kitchen while the others sat in the living room. Once a conversation was underway among the others, Ellie quietly asked what was wrong. Mariah sighed, dropped her shoulders and shook her head. She told Ellie, "I know I was rude, but the guy has been hitting on me for a couple of weeks."
Ellie grimaced and told Mariah, "That's tacky. It's a shame John isn't here to set him straight."
Mariah fought back tears a moment. She wished desperately that he was there, wished he would at least call so she could hear his voice. As time passed, she knew he had left her, but while her emotions see-sawed all over the place, she could use some reassurance. At this point, she would settle for a confirmation that they were finished just to get rid of the uncertainty that gnawed at her.
They sat down to dinner, and Mariah was glad Ellie had put out water glasses in addition to wine glasses. It made it easier for her since she wouldn't have to drink the wine, which would lead to questions she really didn't want to answer. She was seated between Devon and Baker, but at least Chuck was across from her.
Ellie had prepared three courses, and as the first was being replaced by the second, Baker said, "Well, Mariah, I finally get to have dinner with you."
She gave him her own version of John's Death Glare and said nothing.
Ironically, it was Devon who told him, "Whoa, dude. Not cool. Mariah's taken."
Baker smiled, "So I've been told, but I haven't seen the guy."
"He's serving his country," Mariah tersely explained.
Ellie, who was returning to her seat, detoured to the bookcase and took down a picture frame. There were four photographs in the frame, one of Ellie and Devon, one of Chuck and Sarah, one of Ellie and Chuck, and one of John and Mariah. She hadn't seen that picture before, but she recognized the day it was taken. About a month before John had left, they had gone to the beach. Ellie had apparently caught them when they walked away from the others for a little privacy. John leaned down toward her, had been about to kiss her, his hands at her waist and hers on his chest. There had been a picture of just Mariah from that day in her living room, but it had vanished when John did.
Baker nodded at the picture and then gave Mariah a sly smile. "You weren't kidding about him being a big guy."
She gritted her teeth and checked her temper. He'd made it sound like John was fat, and that picture was evidence that he was anything but.
Ellie took the frame from him, and Sarah started talking about a customer who had brought a set of triplets into the Orange Orange that day and the mayhem they had created. Mariah pushed the food around her plate, missed John even more, and wondered if Ellie would give her a copy of that photograph.
The rest of dinner passed a bit more pleasantly, and Mariah began to relax. Unfortunately, Baker noticed she wasn't drinking the small amount of wine she'd allowed Devon to pour in her glass. The man pointed it out, asked what was wrong with it. Mariah's jaw locked, and she bit out that there was nothing wrong with it. She had a moment of inspiration and said, "I take antidepressants."
Chuck came to her rescue, or at least she thought he was coming to her rescue, but he blew it by asking, "Have you heard from Casey?"
She wished he'd asked anything else, especially since he knew she hadn't, and her face likely showed it. She supposed it was better than him having said something that exposed her secret. She shook her head, made a half-hearted comment about how John couldn't easily call.
Baker, of course, slid in, "These days soldiers can call home pretty easily, what with Skype, satellite phones and all. Then there's e-mail, Facebook—but I suppose you know that."
Mariah turned to glare at him. She knew that, and she was sorely tempted to stick the steak knife Ellie had had her set the table with in him. She'd had more than enough of the man, and it didn't help that he seemed determined to taunt her about John. She focused a moment on her breathing, willed herself to calm down, wondered, briefly, why her emotions ran from one extreme to another and nearly beyond her control. "I'm well aware of that," she finally said. "John's job is such that it isn't possible."
There was a look in Baker's eyes that made her want to hit him. She studied the even, non-descript features of his face, and those stereotypical blue eyes of his laughed at her. There was something about him she was missing, and that look, all hidden amusement at her expense, told her there was something else going on there. She'd known there was something off with the guy, and now she had warnings signaling all over the place. Admittedly, she had been the first to bring John up in their encounters, but Baker hadn't backed off. She took a closer look at him: he was arrogant, fit, deceptively muscular, and he had the bearing she should have recognized the moment she met him.
She was staring at John's replacement.
Tearing her eyes away from him, she was glad the conversation had moved on without her. She fought back the stabbing sense of loss, struggled against the impulse to burst into tears, and then she caught Chuck's attention and raised an angry brow. Chuck flushed dark red, and she knew her guess was right. With everything else, she had been too distracted to pick up on what Baker's presence meant.
Suddenly very, very tired, Mariah couldn't help but wish dinner had reached a stage where she could easily excuse herself and go home. She refused dessert when it was offered, told Ellie she couldn't possibly eat any more. She helped Ellie serve, though, in part to move away from Baker who had taken to leaning toward her as he spoke to Devon. Mariah's claustrophobia was rearing its head, and being able to get up and breathe freely felt good. She also helped Ellie clear the table to keep from having to sit with the others in the living room where she suspected Baker would maneuver it so that he was seated next to her.
She told her brain to shut up, but Baker unnerved her. When the dishes were washed, dried, and put away, Mariah told Ellie she was tired and thought she would just go home. Ellie made a token protest, but she relented when Mariah told the other woman she wasn't sleeping well and thought she'd go home and go to bed. She sailed through the living room, saying a general good night as she made her way to the door.
Thankful Baker hadn't followed her, she let herself in the apartment and set the security system. She went upstairs to the room she had shared with John and just rolled into a ball on his side of the bed. She felt stupid when she burst into tears.
When her BlackBerry rang, she almost didn't answer it. She blew her nose on a tissue from the box she'd grabbed on the way up and, as it continued to ring, answered.
Mariah thought at first she was having an auditory hallucination. She could swear it was John's voice in her ear, but she was pretty sure that was impossible. "Riah?" he repeated, and she heard an anxious note and what sounded like the chop of helicopter rotor blades in the background.
"John?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"I don't have very long." She felt her heart pound, felt euphoric joy dancing through her. "Are you okay?"
She knew she was grinning like an idiot. "Fine," she said. "I'm fine. You?"
"I spoke to your father," he said, and her spirits plummeted. "He's worried about you."
"He always worries about me," she said. Surely, her father hadn't told John she was pregnant? "I'm glad you're safe." She was so relieved to hear from him, to know he was on the other end of the phone, and to know that, apparently, he'd thought of her—even if her father had prompted him.
"Riah, listen," he said, and she heard other voices in the background. "I didn't have my things moved out. I think there was a misunderstanding or a miscommunication."
She started to ask if he'd talked to General Beckman, but he cut in. "I have to go. I'm getting on a chopper. We need to talk, but I don't know when I'll be able to either call you again or see you."
Mariah barely had time to say okay let alone anything else before he had to hang up and go.
On the one hand, she had a ridiculous smile plastered on her face. On the other, her all-too-brief conversation with John had to be one of the most unsatisfactory discussions she'd ever had. She should have told him, but the reasons she'd given Chuck were valid still, very much so. He was clearly not coming home any time soon, and she'd bet he had been given yet another assignment. But he'd called her, and that had to mean something.
Mariah went downstairs for some water, and there was a knock on the door as she was headed back up the stairs. She'd learned her lesson, so she dropped the panel and looked at the screen it exposed. Baker stood on her doorstep, but she had no intention of opening the door to him. She was pushing the button to raise the panel again when he said loudly enough for her to hear, "Agent Adderly, we need to talk."
His reference to her status and her actual surname confirmed her earlier guess. She stood there, debated. Talking to John had been unsatisfactory, but she didn't want to ruin the bit of happiness it had given her by talking to Baker. On the other hand, if he was taking John's place with the Intersect, she would have to deal with him sooner or later. She sighed, and then she punched in the code to turn off the alarm system and opened the door. She stepped outside and closed the door behind her rather than invite Baker inside.
It didn't much surprise her when he said, "I think we should have this conversation in private." He gestured at her door.
She folded her arms over her chest. "I'm sure you're aware my living room is no more private than this. We'll talk here."
He eyed her for a moment, and Mariah was pleased that this time he appeared to be all business. "I'm here to take Major Casey's place."
Mariah nodded.
Baker seemed startled by her own lack of surprise at his announcement, and he obviously waited for her to say something. When she didn't, he continued, "I expected to move into the Major's quarters."
She gave him a hard stare. Over my dead body, she thought, though she immediately acknowledged that was a decided possibility given what she knew about Chuck. She maintained the stare.
"Alternate quarters were found for me."
Mariah nodded once more.
"I need access to some of the Major's equipment."
She lifted a brow. John's equipment was mostly gone, and she could think of no real reason why Baker would need access to what was left. Surely the General had provided the same to the man in front of her. "Give me a list, and I'll see you get what you need."
"It would just take a moment," he began, but Mariah cut him off.
"You're not coming in. Not now, not ever."
He frowned, and she noted he looked pissed off. That actually helped her regain some of the happy feeling John's call had given her. "We're on the same side here."
She gave him a "hmph."
"Look—"
"No," she cut in sharply. "You look. I've always been a silent partner in this operation. It isn't my primary directive. I don't have to play nicely with you, and I won't, quite frankly." Why she thought Resistance is futile, she wasn't really sure, but she was just angry enough to hold a hard line. If nothing else, she was certain Baker would run straight to Beckman, and that just might gain her a few more explanations than she had so far been given.
He put his hands on his hips, and he looked seriously pissed off. Mariah didn't much care. "I was told you would cooperate."
"That depends on what you need." Perhaps she was being petty, but it felt good. She was mad as hell about John, and it was nice to have a convenient target on whom to vent her frustration. That she felt Baker deserved it for the games he'd tried to play with her absolved her from feeling guilty.
"I understand you were posing as Casey's girlfriend."
"It wasn't a pose."
He gave her a sort of crooked, knowing smile that made her want to knock it right off him. "According to Beckman, it was."
"I'm not John's cover." It might have been more accurate to say she was no longer John's cover, she supposed, but she would go with the truth as it stood. Beckman knew circumstances had changed, and Mariah wondered why she hadn't told Baker.
"And I suppose Casey whispered secrets to you at night?" he asked with what Mariah thought was a nasty tone of voice.
Her jaw went rigid, and her eyes narrowed. She was getting really tired of people assuming John spilled secrets when they were in bed. Anyone who knew him would know better. "Firewall," she said tartly. "I have to protect my agency as much as he has to protect his."
"Then why are you still here?" he asked. "They had to move someone else out of the complex to get me in. Frankly, this apartment has the better vantage point."
She shrugged, tired of this. It was going nowhere, and she wanted to go inside and close the door—with Baker on the other side of it. She was tempted to ask if the agent was jealous, but that would be juvenile. She decided not to answer his question, especially given she wasn't at all sure why she was still there herself. Beckman could have just had her moved out when she took John's things—and she assumed it was Beckman who had removed his things since John had disavowed any knowledge that it had been done.
In that moment, it finally occurred to Mariah that she didn't know how John knew what she had thought.
The answer was simple, though: Dad.
Her parents had clearly been meddling in her life again. Her mother had called her father, and John had admitted he'd talked to him. Her father must not have told John about the baby, though, since John had said nothing about it. On the other hand, it had been clear from the background noise that John hadn't been alone, and she doubted he would bring the subject up unless he was—assuming he actually knew.
"You can play the stone-cold bitch all you want," Baker said, cutting in on her convoluted thoughts. "You're going to have to cooperate with me, and that means I need access."
"Access to what?" she asked, choosing to play ignorant.
"I told you. Major Casey's equipment."
She gave him a hard glare. "Have Beckman make a formal request." With that, she turned and went inside. When Baker tried to follow, she put an elbow in his gut, and when he doubled over, she shoved him back. What she had wanted to do was plant an elbow in his face, black his eye or break his nose, but she didn't want to deal with the fallout from doing so. She closed and locked the door, set the security system once more.
It didn't occur to her until she was in bed that she had probably not only made an enemy but had just given Beckman a reason to send her home. She wasn't entirely sorry on either account.
Author's Note:
One of the reasons "Forging a Life" ended where it did is this and the next few parts. When "Chuck vs. the Tic Tac" aired, I went, "Crap!" This and the next two hundred pages were already long written, and I decided they were definitely not going to work.
The next morning, I had to leave for Louisville, Kentucky, and I got up still trying to figure out what to do with this monster story that now wasn't going to work. I had a five-hour drive to think about that, a couple of nights with some fine bourbon and my laptop when I wasn't in meetings, but I still decided that the way this plays out would be too much coincidence even in the realm of fiction. I confess, though, that when I left Louisville for Chicago and the second leg of the trip, I was still trying to find a way around the reveal.
Because this bit of the story line threads through the rest, when I decided to post this version, I intended to rewrite and edit the baby out. Then, I decided it was too much work to do so, and it was pretty pivotal to a couple of things that come up later on. I have, therefore, decided to be a lazy writer and leave it as it was originally written.
Throw things at me if you like. I have a very thick skin.
Having said that, we get back to Casey next week, but for the next several weeks you'll get both POVs since there are things in Mariah's that are important to know down the road and I can't figure out how to do it without having to add a lot of explanation later.