Ghosts That Haunt

by Adderlygirl

AU / Sequel to Forging a Life. Casey is assigned a foreign female operative to pose as his girlfriend.

6. Chapter 6

Ghosts That Haunt—6

The next morning Beckman's face filled the large screen on the wall while Mariah sat at the table eating breakfast. She set her fork down and acknowledged the General. She had some trepidation, certain Baker had reported back what she'd said to him and that she'd been uncooperative.

"Miss Adderly," the woman said tartly. "I understand you met Agent Baker last night."

"I met him a couple of weeks ago," she corrected just to be pissy. "For the record, had he identified himself to me then, he might have found me a bit more accommodating. Also for the record, General, I am quite happy to leave this apartment and even Los Angeles. We can say John's going back to military service permanently, and I'm moving to base housing where he will be stationed. I'm certain ISI would be pleased to have me back with them rather than seconded to the NSA."

"That will not be necessary," the General said, her voice taking on a more neutral tone which raised several suspicions for Mariah. "I would, however, like to hear more about why you refused to assist Agent Baker."

Mariah considered her words. It would do her no good to be snotty about it, and that was certainly her first instinct. If she played this right, she might even get Beckman to tell her more about where John was. "I had only his word for who he is and what he's doing here, General. John would not appreciate, nor I assume would you, my simply opening up his home and access to NSA equipment to someone without verifying his legitimate need to do so."

She saw something spark in Beckman's eyes. She wasn't sure what it was, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know. "He has a legitimate need, Miss Adderly, but your point is well taken." The General leaned forward. "I think, for the time being, that we will continue to deny him access to the apartment. However, if you are asked for surveillance feeds, supply those to him. If he needs anything else, we will let you know."

Reading between the lines, Mariah considered the possibility that Beckman wasn't at all comfortable with Baker. Then she reconsidered. He wouldn't be there, presumably, if the General didn't trust him. She nodded an acknowledgement.

When Beckman sat back, the General reached out to a keyboard. Mariah saw that the cameras in the living area of her apartment powered down. She assumed the audio went off as well. "Unless there's surveillance I'm unaware of, Miss Adderly, your location is now secure. We need to talk."

Mariah did not like the sound of that at all, especially not when she considered what the likely topic of that conversation might be. She'd been less than discrete when she and Chuck had spoken of her pregnancy in this very space.

"I have spoken to your father," the other woman said.

It occurred to her that her father had suddenly turned remarkably chatty with the Americans, and it irritated her that apparently he felt compelled to talk to everyone but her. Mariah sat and waited for the General to continue.

When it was clear she would make no response, Beckman spoke. "You should be aware that I had your apartment searched a few days ago."

Her chin lifted. "And what did you find?"

"The team who removed Major Casey's personal belongings reported that the two of you were sharing a bedroom. The more recent search revealed some rather interesting reading material on your night stand and prenatal vitamins in your kitchen. Is there something I should know, Miss Adderly?"

Instinctively, she nearly denied it. Instead, Mariah sat back and stared at the other woman's image. "I assume that question is rhetorical since you clearly know the answer."

"Are you pregnant?"

She stared back at the other woman. There had to be a reason she was asking, given she had as much as admitted she knew, and it interested Mariah that she had shut down the surveillance before doing so. She wondered why the General didn't want anyone to know they'd had this conversation.

"Let's assume that you are," Beckman finally said as the silence stretched. "Let's also assume that the Major is responsible." Mariah said nothing, not even when the other woman lifted a brow. "Does Casey know?"

Face impassive, Mariah considered her options and weighed possible responses on the General's side. If she told the truth and the General wanted to permanently separate her from John, she could get the equivalent of a deportation order. That, however, would not necessarily prevent Mariah from finding him and telling him. If she seriously wanted them apart, Mariah might be going home in a box—or simply disappear, her knowledge that Chuck Bartowski was the Intersect serving as justification. If she lied and said yes, then there were other possible scenarios. She breathed in slowly. Then there was always the possibility that the General didn't care one way or another. Yeah, right, the sarcastic little voice in her head said. John was her pet agent. Anything that potentially distracted him from the job was a danger to the General and to her projects.

"Your father requested I have Casey call you. I presume that means he doesn't know."

She already knew her father had meddled, and while she considered options for responding, she watched General Beckman relax her posture. "You've served us well, Mariah," she said. "I realize you uprooted your life, I know you've had difficult issues to deal with, and you've managed to maintain your professionalism." Mariah heard the unvoiced but, and she wondered about the General's use of her first name, something she almost never did. She was also surprised the other woman singled out professionalismas something she had done well. Surely getting personally involved with the team leader was a mark of less than professional behavior, not to mention opening up the possibility for both her and John to be dismissed for an inappropriate personal relationship.

When Mariah remained silent, the General continued. "Major Casey is needed elsewhere, and I need him focused on the job at hand, not on what's going on in Los Angeles. You thought fast and preserved his ability to return to Operation Bartowski when it becomes necessary, and for that I am grateful."

Considering she had removed John's belongings—Mariah was now certain she had ordered it done—she wondered if the woman thought she was genuinely stupid. Then, she reconsidered. Probably John was coming back but she was leaving. This was beginning to sound like a dismissal, and it pissed her off, not least because she was just labeled a distraction for John. She decided then not to fight it despite the instinct to do so. "When should I be prepared to leave?"

The General's face went tight. "You aren't leaving. At the moment, Chuck trusts you far more than he does Agent Kavanaugh."

"Who?" Mariah asked, thoroughly confused since she thought John's replacement was Baker. Then she realized Baker was an alias. She could tell Beckman was upset by her own slip with the name, and Mariah thought it rather telling that the other woman, who never made a verbal misstep, had done so.

"Tom Baker is really Robert Kavanaugh, Miss Adderly. Be that as it may, I would like you to remain where you are for the foreseeable future. If you prefer, I will have requests for your cooperation come through Agent Walker rather than Agent Kavanaugh."

"I would far prefer that."

Beckman gave her an assessing look. "Are there issues with Agent Kavanaugh, Miss Adderly?"

Mariah sighed. She thought a moment and then decided diplomacy might be her best option. "I think he and I got off on the wrong foot. At first, I thought he was trying to hit on me. Now, though, perhaps he was only trying to gain access to the apartment."

"Describe 'hit on' you?" The temperature of the General's voice was arctic. Mariah did, from the coffee shop to the flowers, all of it, as objectively as she could manage. "Is there anything else?"

She wondered if she should say it. She finally decided discretion was the better part of valor. "No."

The General gave her another appraising look. Silence stretched, and Mariah waited. Finally, the other woman said, "I will inform Agent Walker that your status in this operation will change." She sat back and looked through the monitor at Mariah. "I need Chuck Bartowski protected at all costs, so I think we will make you a fully operational member of the team."

Mariah sat straighter, thought hard. She was not an American agent, and this was their operation. She wondered if she was being bought off—made a part of the team only to be kept as much on the periphery as she had previously been to buy compliance. She knew the General was pragmatic, would do whatever it took to get her way, and if that meant bringing Mariah into the operation to keep her from telling John she was pregnant, Mariah suspected the General wouldn't be above offering what she thought might be an appropriate bribe. The problem was Mariah really didn't want to be an operational member of Team Chuck, especially not now. She breathed in and then released the breath. "Ma'am, I may not be the best choice for this. I'm having some," she paused, chose her words carefully, "physical issues, and they sometimes keep me off the cover job. I have limited usefulness to the team when I have physical limitations that could interfere."

Beckman's brow shot up again. "Before you and Casey made your relationship personal, his professional assessment of you was that you are capable though sometimes overly cautious. He admits you are not quite as skilled at personal combat as Agent Walker, but he says you think well on your feet. He believes, and I concur, that we can trust Mr. Bartowski with you despite your limited experience compared to himself or to Agent Walker. Was he wrong?"

John was loyal, almost blindly so, but it made Mariah feel good to hear the General's words. Despite her certainty that she was making a mistake, that she should simply ask to be sent home, she told the General, "I will do what I can."

"That's all I ask." The General's face was replaced by the Department of National Intelligence seal.

Mariah was distracted at the Buy More, returned again and again to her morning conversation with General Beckman. She would do her job, but she would feel much better if she discussed this latest wrinkle with her father. On her break, she found a quiet place and made the call. Her father, predictably, saw a golden opportunity. Having Mariah more fully part of the NSA/CIA team was a potential boon to ISI, and he was more than willing to exploit it. Mariah balked. "Dad," she said quietly, "I don't think I can do that."

There was silence on the other end. "Mariah, it's what we do."

She bit her lip. There was truth in what he said. Most agencies exploited what they learned from one another, but she felt dishonest and disloyal. She was relatively certain John had passed on what little he had learned about ISI from her, but she had not done the reverse. She had never revealed that Chuck was the Intersect, had only mentioned, when asked, that he appeared to be an analyst. She knew her first loyalty was supposed to be to ISI, but, increasingly, she found her loyalties had shifted. She felt the need to protect Chuck, but most of all she felt the need to protect John. That troubled her.

"I know, Dad, but if the Americans want to make me part of the operation, I presume that means I'm subject to their rules about disclosure."

"There's disclosure, Mariah, and then there's disclosure." She heard a grim humor in her father's voice. "Listen, honey, do what you have to do."

When the call was over, she wondered at the disappointment she felt. Somehow, she realized, she had hoped her father would bring her home. He was clearly not going to do that, so unless she wanted to quit—and she had never quit in her life—she would simply have to deal. She did a fast check of her e-mail and found Beckman had sent her access codes for Castle. She sat and stared at the screen a moment. There was something about this that made her very, very nervous.

When Agent Walker came over just before Chuck was due to go to lunch, she approached Mariah. "Why don't you join us for lunch?" the blonde asked.

Jeff had walked up behind Walker and said, "I'll join you. You haven't lived until you've experienced the Jeff Barnes sandwich."

Mariah eyed Walker, who barely disguised her disgust. Mariah had to admit the nausea she felt probably was not pregnancy-related. "I think Lester was looking for you." When Jeff had disappeared, she looked back at Walker.

"Have you read your e-mail?" Walker asked.

She nodded at the CIA officer.

"We'll need to take a retinal scan and feed it into the security system," the other woman said softly. "If you can come now, we'll take care of it."

Chuck walked up, and Walker reached up to kiss him. Mariah envied them, even though she knew their relationship was a cover. It was clear to anyone looking at them that there was a genuine attraction between the two of them, but Walker had so far resisted letting things progress beyond agent and asset. Sadness knifed through Mariah as she thought of John, wondered again where he was.

The three of them left the Buy More together, and Walker mentioned she'd ordered lunch in for them all. Once inside, Walker began to explain how the security system worked. Chuck helped with the retinal scan. Then they sat at the large stainless steel table and ate the sandwiches Walker had ordered.

As she and Chuck were about to leave and return to the Buy More, Kavanaugh came in. She felt Chuck stiffen beside her, but she kept moving toward the door. Kavanaugh moved to block her way, but she simply stepped around him and kept going.

As they crossed the parking lot, Chuck asked, "Does this mean he's leaving?"

Glancing across at him, she said, "Unfortunately, no."

"But you're going to be working with Sarah, so he can go, right?"

"Not the way it works, Chuck," she said, and then she stopped. There was no audio out here, and they could talk. "This doesn't change my status—or Baker's."

"You know his name's not really Baker, right?" Chuck raised his brows. "I mean, come on, who chooses 'Tom Baker' as an alias?"

For the first time in what felt like a long time, Mariah laughed. "You don't suppose he was trying to get some geek cred, do you?"

That dazzling grin of Chuck's appeared. "If so, he's about thirty years out of date."

They were both laughing, their arms linked, when they entered the store.

Unfortunately, Emmett Milbarge served as a welcoming committee. Mariah caught his sour expression, and she looked at Chuck. They both grinned. The assistant manager's expression soured even more. "The two of you are," he checked his watch with exaggerated care, "exactly two and three-quarters minutes late. I expect you to make up the time."

"We'll be happy to, Emmett," Chuck said cheerfully. "Should we take that off our breaks or stay late?"

Mariah, unable to resist, added, "Or perhaps we should come in early tomorrow?"

"There's always lunch tomorrow," Chuck countered.

Emmett sniffed, and he ran his eyes over Mariah. "Perhaps Casey would be interested in knowing who you're spending your time with."

Her smile stiffened. "John knows."

"Really?" Emmett purred, and the note of triumph in his eyes was Mariah's only warning. "Then perhaps you could explain why he was here looking for you."

She felt the euphoria she'd felt the night before when John called wash through her only to have it crushed as she looked at the assistant manager. All humor died. "John was here?" she asked carefully as she released Chuck's arm. Perhaps the flight he'd caught as he spoke to her was one that was a first step to bring him home.

Emmett did that annoying little sniff of his once more and inspected his cuticles. "He said he only had a few minutes—something about being in transit. I must say he looked so much bigger in his uniform."

His words crushed her. John had been here, and she hadn't. She couldn't stop it. The tears started. It embarrassed the hell out of her, not least because Emmett was giving her his insincere smile. She knew part of her reaction was that because of her pregnancy, her emotions were all over the place. A few nights before, she had burst into tears because she couldn't find her fingernail clippers, but the idea that she had missed seeing John simply devastated her. She felt Chuck steer her toward the back of the store while she fought for control.

Chuck fished his phone out of his pocket. "Sarah?" she heard him ask. "Have you heard from Casey?"

Mariah found something to wipe her eyes on and blew her nose. Chuck stood and watched her, listened to whatever Walker said. "Take a look at the surveillance feed from the Buy More, would you?" There was a pause. "Because Emmett Milbarge says he was just here."

She cried harder when Chuck ended the call and told her Emmett had lied to them. It was cruel of Emmett to have told her that, and she didn't understand why he had done so. It was one thing to take verbal swipes at her, make snide comments about her cheating on John, but to tell her she had just missed him was more than she could bear at the moment. For his part, Chuck put his arms around her and let her cry on his shoulder.

"What's wrong with her?" she heard Morgan ask. She wasn't sure how long she'd been watering Chuck's chest at that point, but she was nearly cried out.

"She's missing Casey," Chuck said.

She tightened her grip on him a moment, thankful for his prevarication. Then she pushed away from Chuck, wiped at her eyes and cheeks. "You look terrible," Morgan said to her.

"Morgan!" Chuck hissed.

Mariah shook her head. "I'm sure he's right," she said. She wiped at her cheeks, absently noting that her hands shook as she did so.

Chuck told her to stay in the back and work on repairs. He was the one scheduled for that afternoon's cage duty, but she appreciated not having to go out and face the public with blotchy skin, swollen eyes, and a red nose.

She had a quiet afternoon, and the only problem was that it gave her far too much time to think. The things she thought about included why Beckman would suddenly make her part of the team. It made little to no sense to Mariah to suddenly choose to include her. She understood that Chuck apparently trusted her, but he had always trusted Sarah Walker more than anyone. John had been alternately frustrated and relieved that Chuck didn't trust him more than he did, and Mariah had never asked what his orders were when it came to an endgame. She had seen enough of General Beckman to know the other woman had a ruthless streak even her godfather couldn't match. She suspected John's brief was to kill the younger man when he was no longer needed.

The other thing she thought about was John's phone call. She hadn't noticed at the time that he repeatedly asked if she was alright, but as she mentally replayed the conversation again and again, he had spent most of it asking her exactly that. She had a feeling her father had given him enough to know something was wrong but hadn't told him what.

Her thoughts then turned to Emmett Milbarge's cruel little joke. She desperately wanted to make the man pay for that, but she couldn't afford to jeopardize her job. It wouldn't stop her from looking for an opportunity and exploiting it if she got the chance.

- X -

Casey didn't get another chance to call Riah. He found himself and a carefully selected squad of his men hunting an Al Qaeda agitator whose men had been inflicting heavy losses on the coalition troops as well as the Iraqi police. To make a call was to risk detection, and for his own safety and that of his men and their Iraqi informants and partners, he didn't attempt to contact her. It was only during the moments when he had a chance to rest that he indulged in the luxury of thinking about her. As he drifted off, he pictured her, usually naked and in his arms. He could feel her limbs entangled in his, the heat of her, and he could taste her as sleep claimed him.

When they had completed their mission, after he had dressed down Miles for having killed the man before they could interrogate him, Casey tiredly considered making the call. Instead, he found himself writing reports, explaining how Miles had mistakenly assumed the man was armed and reaching for a weapon when he shot and killed him. Casey had his doubts but no proof, so he let the report reflect what Miles said and his men corroborated. There was no contradictory evidence, though the dead man had proven unarmed when his body was examined. Mistakes happened, he knew, but it was irritating when it cost intel.

Finished, he stretched. His bunk called to him, but there was one more thing he wanted to do. He opened an e-mail account he'd set up on a non-government system. He had never used it, but after he deleted the junk mail that had accumulated, he opened a message screen. He wrote Riah on her personal e-mail account rather than her ISI one or the one associated with her BlackBerry, told her what he'd said on the phone: he hadn't asked to have his things moved. He wrote that he had left her a note to explain that he was being recalled, but he didn't know why she hadn't received it. He wrote that Beckman had said she would tell Riah he was leaving, but he didn't know why she hadn't done that, either. He could have guessed, and he'd probably be right, he thought, but it wouldn't be productive to tell Riah that. He wrote that he wasn't sure when he'd be back, wasn't sure when he could call her again, and he told her he didn't know if he'd be able to check this account any time soon.

He stretched, exhaustion catching up to him, but he wasn't finished yet. He stared at the wall opposite him for a while, turned over words and phrases as he sought the right ones, and then he returned to the message. This time he wrote that he missed her, that he hoped she was alright. He wrote that her father had seemed concerned about her, and he told her that if she needed him, to tell her father. V. H. would find him, and Casey would do what he could to get to her.

Unbidden, he had that image in his head again, the one of her heavy with child. He rubbed his eyes and beat it back. His fingers were tempted to write something he knew he couldn't say to her, especially when he knew his agency frequently intercepted e-mail messages, so he used the touchpad and hit send before he weakened and let them. He closed the program, killed the satellite link, and shut down the laptop. He dropped on his bunk, unlaced his boots and removed them, and then he ran a finger over her image in the photograph before he rolled onto the cot and dropped into deep, dreamless sleep.

- X -

The chance to get even for his lie eluded her. It was almost as if Emmett Milbarge knew she was looking for an excuse. He stayed clear of her, and he only spoke to her about the job. To Mariah's amusement, the other job was pretty dormant, too. The only difference in her routine was to be present at briefings with the General.

When she attended the first one, Kavanaugh nearly exploded. He'd demanded to know why she was there. Mariah said nothing, and even Walker refused to say anything. When the General appeared on screen, he repeated his demand. The General gave him a hard glare and told him because she said so. It didn't take long to realize that Mariah would play a support position, and that didn't especially bother her. She was still fairly suspicious of why she had been included, so having limited responsibilities suited her.

Her life really didn't change much. She had too much time alone, and she was finding, as she had in Chicago, that that was dangerous. She had begun having minor panic attacks, most apparently triggered by planning for her pregnancy. Chuck walked into the middle of one, and she decided then this couldn't continue. She went to the beach on one of her days off and called Ben. She had a long talk with him on the phone, and that evening he e-mailed her the name of a therapist he thought would be good for her. The next day, she arranged to meet the woman and found she liked her. She stopped seeing Dr. Dreyfus, the CIA psychiatrist, and Beckman wasn't happy when she found out. Mariah explained that she needed to deal with some personal issues she wasn't comfortable talking about to the other man, assured Beckman she would not talk about the job, and when the General realized Mariah wouldn't give in, she capitulated with ill-grace.

And then, one night, Mariah woke up and was momentarily disoriented. She had been dreaming about John, and she automatically reached for him before she remembered he was gone. When she moved, she felt something wet and sticky between her legs, and when she turned on the light, she found she was bleeding. She had felt something akin to cramps throughout the day, but had dismissed them. She made a frantic phone call to her aunt who came over immediately. Lydia made her get dressed and took her to the hospital.

When Lydia had run tests and then rejoined her, her expression somber, Mariah knew something was wrong. She froze as her aunt explained she was miscarrying. The tears trickled as Lydia told her it wasn't anything she had done, that these things happened, but Mariah shouldn't feel to blame. Mariah quit listening. She closed her eyes, beyond tired. Lydia gave her something Mariah dutifully swallowed. She ignored Lydia's explanations.

Her aunt took her home when it was all over, gave her some instructions she didn't really hear, and Mariah went upstairs to crawl into bed. She was too tired to change the stained sheets on the bed she'd shared with John, so she went to her old room.

She heard someone pound on the door downstairs, but she opened her eyes only to shut them again. She wanted whoever it was to go away.

She heard her phone shrill, but she ignored it. When it quit, she turned it off. She was just numb, but it beat feeling.

Someone was shaking her, and she thought she heard her mother's voice. She knew that was unlikely, so she burrowed deeper into her bed. Whoever was managing to sound like her mother shook her harder, and Mariah surfaced, squinted in the light that washed the room. She was surprised to see the concerned face of Ariel Taylor above her.

"Mariah, you're getting out of this bed, and you're doing it right now."

She swallowed thickly and started to roll over again. It had to be her imagination.

"Oh, no you don't," her mother said. "You're going to get a shower, and then we're going to talk."

Mariah pulled the blankets over her head, not caring that it was childish, and the thought of being childish stabbed at her. No child. Her child was gone.

Her mother pulled the covers off and pulled Mariah into a sitting position. She looked at her mother and burst into tears. At some point, it occurred to her that this was where her pregnancy had started, with her crying in her mother's arms. Ariel held her, murmured comfort now and then, and when the sobs subsided, she told Mariah softly, "Come on. Let's get you up and in the shower."

She stood under the hot water and absorbed the warmth. She heard the door open and assumed her mother was leaving her clothes. She started to wash mechanically. She had to make a conscious effort to move.

Clean and dressed once more, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror brushing her teeth. Her head hurt, and she wondered how long it had been since she had gone to Lydia's office in the middle of the night. Long enough for her mother to arrive from wherever she had been, but Mariah had lost track of time. She felt weak, but that was hardly surprising since she couldn't remember the last time she ate something. It embarrassed her to realize she had let the blackness take over again, and then she wondered how her mother had managed to get inside the apartment.

She walked downstairs slowly. She felt lightheaded, and her legs shook slightly. She found her mother, her aunt Lydia, her sister, and her stepfather in the living room. Lydia sat her down and checked her over, fired questions at her. Mariah answered them as best she could. Her mother sat a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs and some fruit in front of her, and she picked up her fork, ate what she could. She knew from past experience it was better to eat something than listen to her mother's alternating orders and pleas.

To her surprise, the women left her with Ben. He watched her, clearly uncomfortable. That surprised Mariah given his occupation. Finally, he said, "I can call Danielle, if you prefer," he said, naming the therapist she had been seeing. She shook her head. She asked him what day it was, and he told her. She had spent four days hidden away in her bed. She told him she had a scheduled appointment the next day. He tilted his head, and she saw the clinician in him assert himself. "Will you keep that appointment?"

She nodded. She suddenly remembered all the problems her four-day disappearance might have caused, but Ben apparently knew what she was thinking. "Your father took care of your job," he said quietly. "They sent a blonde woman to let your mother in the apartment." He studied her a moment. "This place is a fortress, Mariah."

The last was more a question, and she blushed. "John's doing."

"Have you heard from him?" Ben asked. She shook her head, and then she told him about the phone call. Ben looked grave. "You will tell him about the miscarriage, won't you?"

Mariah hunched into her chair and stared at a patch of floor. "I don't know where he is or how to reach him," she admitted softly. She didn't dare look at Ben. She didn't tell him that John hadn't known she was pregnant. That was probably just as well, she thought. John had made it crystal clear he didn't plan on being a father. She sighed and covered her face with her hands a moment. When she dropped them, she looked at her stepfather and said, "I love you, Ben, but I don't want to talk to you about this."

He gave her his wide, sad smile. "As long as you talk to Danielle," he told her, "because this isn't healthy, Mariah, and I think you need to talk to someone."

"I don't want to go back on the drugs," she said and blushed when she realized that had been an automatic response.

"Then talk to Danielle, but she may want you to take them for a while."

She promised and then asked where the others had gone. Ben shrugged and admitted he didn't know. She knew he had been left to talk to her, but the truth was she would rather have talked to her mother or her aunt. She gave them the benefit of the doubt, assumed they had left her with Ben since it had been a long time since she had had an episode like this.

They talked about other things, including Emma. After a while, she began to get that trapped feeling she sometimes experienced, and she asked Ben if he would go for a walk with her. When he agreed, she went upstairs and put on her shoes before grabbing her keys. As she locked the door, she heard Ellie Bartowski's voice call her name. She turned, and she saw Ellie's puzzled expression as she studied Ben. Mariah introduced him, and Ellie smiled, told him she had read some of his work. Ellie then turned her attention to Mariah. "Chuck's been worried about you."

"I've not been well," Mariah said.

Ellie started firing questions at her, but Ben came to Mariah's rescue. He efficiently told Ellie Mariah would be fine and that they were on their way to meet her mother and sister. Ellie once more gave Mariah a curious look, and Mariah realized she had never mentioned her family. She told Ellie she would see her soon, and Ben settled a hand in her lower back as they left the courtyard. He let Mariah choose the direction they took, and he walked silently by her, speaking only when she did.

They made their way to a nearby park, and Mariah selected a bench away from the playground filled with mothers and their children. She closed her eyes and raised her face to the sun.

"You always did feel better when you could be outside," Ben observed.

Mariah nodded. She wished she had chosen a different place as the high-pitched voices of children reached her. Still, she couldn't hide from them the rest of her life. "Ellie seems nice," Ben said.

She nodded and opened her eyes. She took the distraction he offered, found herself telling him about the other woman and her brother. When she wound down, Ben observed that she was lucky to have such neighbors. Then he asked, "She didn't know you were pregnant, did she?"

Mariah shook her head and then scrubbed a hand over her eyes. "I didn't tell anyone here. I just—I just thought John should know first."

They talked a little more about her life in Los Angeles, and eventually they decided it was time to go back.

When they walked back to the apartment, they met Chuck coming home from work. He got what John called a flash face when he saw Ben. That made Mariah more than a little curious, but she curbed the desire to ask, especially with Ben present. Instead, she introduced the two men, explained that Ben was her stepfather. Chuck mumbled something about a date and that it was nice to meet Ben and headed for his apartment.

Ben stared after him and said, "What a strange young man."

Mariah said nothing, led him back to her apartment. After Ben made himself at home, Mariah told him she needed to go get her mail. She left him looking at a book in the living room and went and knocked on Chuck's window.

"You flashed on Ben," she said before he could say anything. "I want to know what."

She could tell he wasn't sure he should tell her.

"Look," she said, "let's just skip the part where you tell me I'm mistaken and the part where you tell me you can't tell me, okay? They made me part of Team Bartowski, so spill."

Chuck leaned forward and put his hands on the window sill. "He worked on the Montreal Project."

Mariah felt lightheaded, and Chuck looked alarmed. "What do you mean he worked on the Montreal Project?" she asked faintly. Dr. Houston, not Ben, had tested her. She had never seen Ben before her father took her to him after her abduction—long after the Montreal Project had ended.

"I didn't get any details other than that, Mariah," he said. "He's a child psychiatrist, right?"

She wanted to correct Chuck, tell him Ben saw adults as well, but his specialty had been traumatized children. Who had been more traumatized than the children in the Project? She began to see Ben's research in an entirely different light. "Thanks," she said, and as she returned to her apartment, she wondered if Danielle Monahan had worked with Ben then, knew about that part of Mariah's life. Mariah had not talked about her childhood with the other woman, had focused mainly on Gray, adult traumas, and John. She sighed. The last grownup person she still truly trusted may have betrayed her she realized as she let herself in the apartment and looked at him.

"No mail?" Ben asked from his seat on the sofa.

Mariah had forgotten that was the excuse she had used to go see Chuck. She shook her head, knew she couldn't go check it now without arousing Ben's suspicions. There were bills she would have to retrieve later and deal with, she was sure, but at the moment she needed to think. She desperately wanted to ask Ben about his work for ISI, but she didn't think she should expose him there where the Americans would know. She couldn't do that to Emma.

She asked if she could get Ben anything, but he declined in the absentminded way that told her he was absorbed in his book. She moved into the kitchen, took down a glass and got some water. She decided to check her e-mail, maybe send her father an encrypted message to ask him about what Ben had done for them all those years ago.

Using her own computer, she logged on and systematically opened her e-mail accounts, beginning with her ISI account and finishing with her personal one. She skimmed the messages out of habit, deleted some obvious junk, and paused when she saw an unknown address. She stared at it a moment, torn between laughing and crying. Clicking the message from GIJohn, she avidly read John's e-mail. It was a unique kind of torture for her, especially when he confessed in the second part of the message that he missed her. She did cry then. She tried not to make a noise so she didn't alert Ben, but she must have made a sound of some sort because he asked, "Mariah?"

"Sorry," she choked.

He stood, set his book down, and started to cross the room to her. "Bad news?"

She gave him a watery smile and closed her laptop. "No. Good news."

Ben cocked his head and looked expectant.

"It's a message from John," she said. Suddenly, she was tired of the pretense. She shut the surveillance equipment off. "Ben, what did you do for the Montreal Project?"

He paled. She could tell he debated whether or not to tell her, but she hoped he would. He sighed. "Clean up, Mariah." She felt the color drain from her face. "Not that kind!" he said in disgust. "Clack hired me to interview the children on the list to see which had—well," he said and gave a nervous cough. "A little hypnosis, a little memory alteration." She looked at him, horror-struck, and she suddenly wondered what else had been done to her as a child. "No! No!" he said quickly, stepping toward her, his hand outstretched. "It kept them alive, Mariah. Not all of them were that fortunate."

She well knew that. Before she could say more, her mother and Emma came through the door, and Mariah turned the surveillance equipment back on.

They stayed a week. Emma and her mother took turns staying with her. Mariah liked it best when Emma stayed, and as if her mother sensed that was the case, Ariel soon started returning to her Malibu beach house at night, leaving the sisters together. Emma took a liking to Chuck, and Mariah was very nervous about that until she realized that it really was just a liking and not a crush. She supposed it could have been worse. Emma could have decided she liked Morgan Grimes. Mariah shuddered. Chuck was nice to her sister, and Ellie, curious about the first members of Mariah's family she had met, invited them all to dinner. Ben, by that time, had returned to Chicago, but when the three women turned up at the Bartowskis', Ellie nearly fainted when she realized Ariel Taylor was on her doorstep.

Her mother set out to put Ellie at ease, and Mariah was proud of how her mother acted like a normal person. Ariel even dealt with Devon's hyperventilation and subsequent statement that one of her albums was his "getting lucky" music with grace.

At night, Mariah thought of John, thought of his e-mail message, and she was sorely tempted to answer it. He had written he rarely checked the account, though, and the truth was that though she desperately wanted to talk to him, her reason for doing so was gone. She couldn't bring herself to contact him just to say she missed him, mainly because she feared she'd pour all the rest out to him, and she couldn't do that, not when he was gone. She knew he had gone back to his special ops team. Beckman had finally told her that much, at least.

Alone again, she began picking up the pieces as best she could. She saw the therapist, and she went back on the antidepressants. All she had to do was hold it together until someone decided her fate, she thought one night. She suspected she'd be sent home soon, especially since it was obvious John wasn't coming back. That was what made his e-mail so seductive.

Then, just as she had mostly regained her equilibrium, an ISI operative knocked on her door early one morning, handed her a packet and left. Mariah had orders to return to Ottawa, supposedly for training, but she suspected she would not return to Los Angeles. She looked at the plane ticket. They were wasting no time. She had a flight out that evening.

The com equipment came to life, and General Beckman's face appeared. "I see your father lost no time," she said.

Mariah stared at the other woman. "I'll call the Buy More and tell them I'm leaving. Should I tell them what we discussed earlier?" She referred to her offer to leave and tell them John was returning to the military permanently while she was moving to the base where he would be stationed.

"No, Miss Adderly," the General said. "This is no more than what your orders say. You're to go to Canada for mandatory training. You will return when you've completed that training."

Mariah cocked her head and stared at the image on the screen. She was deeply suspicious now. She would have thought Beckman would be thrilled to be rid of her. "And how am I supposed to explain a six weeks absence to the Buy More?"

The General folded her hands. "We've thought of two options. Major Casey has leave but can only get to Germany. You're going to take unpaid leave and visit him. Or he's been injured, and you're on your way to him."

She wondered who we were. She chewed her lip. "The first option is better," she said at last. "If we say John's injured, they'll want details, and then John will have issues if—when—he comes back. Besides, any injury serious enough for me to go to Europe would be serious enough to keep him down longer than I'll be gone or get him discharged."

Beckman gave a curt nod. "If you have problems with the Buy More, let me know, and I'll arrange for them to give you the time off." The other woman closed the line then, leaving a bemused Mariah standing in the living room.

Mariah finished packing what she thought she would need, and as she set the case beside the door, she wondered if there was some reason they wanted her out of Los Angeles. She wasn't due for training for another two months, and it was unusual for an operative on assignment to be recalled early. It was possible, she supposed, that her father had decided to force the issue at last. It was also possible that Beckman had finally decided to move Kavanaugh into John's apartment, and this was the first step in cutting ISI out of the Intersect project. She packed her service weapon in its case. She'd run it over to Mona to send it back to Canada. It would be easier crossing the border without it, she knew, and Mona would have it there almost as fast as Mariah would arrive.

There was a knock at the door, and she opened it to Chuck. "Hi," he said. "Sarah said you're leaving."

They both had the day off from Buy More. "Temporarily," Mariah acknowledged.

"Mind if I ask why?"

"Training."

Chuck gave her a funny look. "They gave you a spy license, but they still have to train you?" he asked. "I wouldn't have thought they'd send you here if you still needed training."

Her lips twitched. "ISI has mandatory training for their operatives every three years," she told him. "I'm due, so I'm going home for about a month and a half." Actually, she was headed to a complex just outside Ottawa, but she saw no reason to complicate the explanation.

He asked about the Buy More, and she told him she was about to go see Big Mike. Chuck offered to go with her, but she thanked him and declined. She had other errands to run while she was at it. When he had gone, she collected her purse, car keys, and cell phone, and picked up her gun case.

She flashed her ID at the consulate guard and was amused when he insisted on inspecting her case. Anticipating the possibility, she had the paperwork from ISI ready.

It felt good when Mona hugged her, and even the whiff of some perfume Mona had probably read about in one of the spy romance novels she still devoured only served to remind Mariah of home. She explained why she was there, and it was soon obvious Mona knew she was going home.

Mona agreed to send her service weapon ahead, so Mariah locked the case and handed it over. They talked a few minutes about nothing much, and then Mona looked at her over her glasses. "Are you okay?"

Mariah realized the other woman knew. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Mona reached a hand out and covered hers, and Mariah very nearly burst into tears. "Some days better than others," she admitted a little thickly when she trusted herself not to cry.

"Oh, honey," Mona said, and her sympathy made tears come closer to spilling. "I'm so sorry."

She bit her lip and nodded, relieved when Mona's phone buzzed and she got up to answer it. It gave Mariah a chance to get herself back under control. She heard Mona say, "She's right here," and shot a look at the older woman. Mona held the phone out. "It's your dad."

Mariah crossed and took the handset. "Dad?"

"Change of plans," he said, and his no-nonsense tone told her he probably wasn't alone. "I need you to do an errand for me," he said before he went on to detail that errand. She was going to Europe, to southern France, to collect an informant. The man she was to meet had escaped Afghanistan only a step ahead of his former colleagues. Mariah was to see he safely got to Canada and to take him to a safe house in Ottawa where she would turn him over to ISI. "I'm sending the paperwork to Mona," he finished. "Give your ticket to Ottawa to her, and she'll give you the one for Marseille. You'll need to keep your weapon."

Mariah sighed, handed the phone back to Mona. When the other woman had hung up, she turned to Mariah. "I've got to arrange my leave with the cover job," she explained to Mona. "I'll come back when I'm finished and pick up my documents."

Big Mike wasn't very happy when she explained what she wanted. He frowned, he blustered, Mariah, exasperated, finally resorted to tears, and as she left, she made a mental note that the big man couldn't stand a crying woman. Emmett Milbarge intercepted her. "You're needed on several off sites tomorrow."

"You'll have to reassign them. I'm taking six weeks unpaid leave," she said and walked away from him before he could respond.

She drove back to the consulate, picked up her documents and weapon, and then went home and collected her bag. She didn't really want to leave her car at the airport for so long, so she walked across and asked Chuck if he'd mind driving her. As they drove, she told Chuck to keep an eye on things for her and to call if he needed to. He nodded, wished her luck, and to her surprise, he hugged her when he got out to help her get her suitcase from the back. She hugged him back and waved when he drove away.

It felt good to have a win for a change, she thought as she left the quiet little man in ISI hands. It had been a relatively easy job, though they had had a few ugly moments on the way to the Marseille airport. Mariah grinned as she sat in the passenger seat of the car her father had sent. She looked forward to being in her own home, even if for only one night. Oddly, she couldn't help but think of John.

Perhaps that was why when she was inside she dropped her case in her bedroom and went to the kitchen, splashed bourbon in a glass and sat down before the panoramic view of Parliament Hill. She sighed and sipped the whiskey. Tomorrow she started training. Maybe that would take her mind off him.

- X -

Casey and his men were quickly sent out again. The mission was similar enough to the one they had just undertaken that Casey felt he was simply retreading the same ground. When the end result was pretty much the same as that of the previous mission, he allowed his frustration to show in his report. At least Miles had not been the one to pull the trigger this time, and the death had been justified. Casey had worked in the intelligence world long enough to regret the loss of intel.

His thoughts turned to Riah as he lay in his bunk afterward. He had checked his e-mail, but there had been no message in response to his. She had not tried to call him, and he had heard nothing further from V. H. Whatever the crisis had been, he assumed it was over. It bothered him, though. Something had made V. H. hunt him down. Chasing that thought was the idea that Beckman might have finally sent her back to Canada, and he was surprised by how disappointed he felt at the idea. Perhaps when he finally got back to the States, when he got some time off, he could go see her—or she could come to him.

The next morning he had new orders. His men were getting a new officer, and he was going to D.C. He decided to call Riah when he got there, but his plane was met in Germany, and he was hustled immediately onto another bound for the States. He was taken straight to headquarters, and when he faced Beckman, there was no time to ask about Riah. Beckman, assuming he wanted to know about Bartowski, let him quickly know the kid was still the Intersect and Walker had everything well in hand. There was no mention of Riah, and he had no opportunity to ask before she told him she was sending him to Afghanistan once more.

To his surprise, though, once she had explained the Afghan mission, the General continued with, "Before you go, Major, V. H. Adderly has requested your assistance."

Casey schooled his features. He would not ask about Riah, he promised himself. He had time enough to find out what he wanted to know. "With what?"

She gave him a tight, far-from-amused smile. "You will evaluate an ISI training mission."

That news wiped any thought of Riah from his mind. He was being punished, and he wondered for what. Officers of his status didn't do this. With notable exceptions, men who were burned out, who were no longer of use, or who had so screwed up a mission they could no longer be trusted in the field became teachers and evaluators. Casey failed to see in which of those categories he belonged. "With all due respect," he began, but General Beckman cut him off.

"Adderly was kind enough to loan us his daughter," she said frostily. "I've agreed to loan you to him this once." He started to protest, but she gave him a stony look. He bit it back, said nothing, and listened to her instructions.

Beckman had had someone in to clean and air out his house. While he was grateful, he still was uneasy with the idea that someone had been in his personal space, someone he had not approved. There was fresh food, and he supposed Beckman had arranged that as well. He ate and then began laundry. While he sat in front of the news, he thought about Riah. He dialed her number, but he got her voice mail. He hung up. He thought about e-mailing her again, but he didn't want to appear to chase after her like a lovesick schoolboy.

The next morning he travelled to Canada, his bags repacked. An ISI operative met him at the airport and drove him to the training ground. He was handed a file as he got in the car, and he read the scenario and studied the diagrams of the area where the exercise would take place. By the time his driver parked the car, he was pretty comfortable with what he was there to observe.

What he hadn't expected was to see V. H., but the other man waited for him when he climbed from the car. Whatever animosity V. H. felt was clearly gone as he smiled and shook Casey's hand. "I appreciate your doing this," he told Casey.

Casey grunted rather than say anything since he wasn't sure he wouldn't insult the man. He did, however, ask, "How's Riah?" V. H. gave him an odd look.

"Fine." Casey knew he didn't imagine the hard edge to the other man's voice. "When we're through here, you and I need to talk."

He looked at his old friend. "I imagine we do."

Before he could ask where Riah was, V. H. gestured toward the command post. "We're about to start."