CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #1: Welcome back everyone, it's Tuesday, which means it's time for another chapter of Desire! This chapter further explores Nora Rogers, her past, her career, and who she is as a person. I know she came off rather coldly in chapter thirteen, that was the point. This chapter will do much to help people understand her as a person. I anticipated that the reaction to the previous chapter would be somewhat concerned or nervous and I was right, I assure all of you that nothing is changing, i'm still me, this is still a charah story.

CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #2: A big thanks to my wonderful friend and beta reader Nev Rawlins, AKA nevr, he's slogged his way through my insanely long chapters for five months now as i've worked on this second story arc. I could not have done this without him and his feedback. Thank you Nev, this is only possible because of your pushing me to continue Desire.

CHARMING'S ADDITIONAL AUTHORS NOTE: If you go back, you'll see that i've deleted all of the song lyrics from this story, I know that some of you liked that part, but I wanted to make this story more compliant with the rules of this website. This story means too much to me to have it taken down by some asshole white knights.

Desire

A Story by

CharmingCharles2896

Chapter Inspired by the Song

Heroes by the Wallflowers

Chapter Fourteen

A New Day

Office of the Director of National Intelligence

Washington DC

Thursday, May 14th, 2009

7:45 AM EST

The last several hours of Nora Rogers' life had been very strange. After she'd terminated all seven other people onboard Marcus Leota's yacht, Nora had decided that she deserved to get drunk, so she had. That was the best tequila she'd ever tasted, and she'd ended up consuming a lot of it. The flight from Key West to DC was a blur for the blonde CIA agent, her being too drunk to remember it. She remembered a team of burly men arriving via helicopter. Part of Nora knew she should feel embarrassed that they'd found her topless and blackout drunk with dead corpses lying all over the place, but after what she'd been through, she was beyond such things. At this point, all Nora Rogers was interested in was giving whoever pulled her out, a piece of her mind. They'd yanked her out of her mission right as she'd been about to make the entire thing worth it. Then, her treatment once she'd landed in DC had left much to be desired. The plane they'd put her on in Key West had been a CIA plane, so it had shower facilities and everything else an agent could need to clean up after a mission. All Nora knew, was that those bastards had tossed her into that shower and turned the water on freezing cold. She'd sobered up very quickly after that, but they didn't seem too concerned.

All those men seemed concerned about was staring at her chest through the flimsy white tank top they'd given her to wear off the ship, which was now soaked through, the sexist pigs. After they'd landed in DC, she'd been escorted, by the secret service no less, to her apartment on the corner of D Street Southeast and Kentucky Avenue, where she'd been confined, per orders. When she'd asked whose authority the orders came from, the men standing in her living room simply told her that it was from someone more important than her. She'd been instructed to go to bed, she had an early start in the morning. At six in the morning, the secret service agents had awoken her, telling her to shower and get into her best attire for a formal meeting with agency brass. Nora decided on her best charcoal grey pencil skirt suit. She paired the suit with her favorite pair of Christian Louboutin heels and a white silk button front shirt. She completed the look with some makeup and striking red lipstick. Before she'd left her apartment, she'd inspected herself one last time, and the only thought that passed through her head was, "Yeah, I'm dressed to kill."

Now, as she passed through the front doors of the DNI building, and walked towards the security checkpoint, the gravity of the meeting started to set in. She'd been pulled from her last assignment and nearly frog marched to the Director of National Intelligence herself. The way everyone had seemed to urgently move her from Florida to Washington DC told Nora that something big was going down. Still, as she headed towards the metal detectors, nobody seemed to be in any kind of hurry. As she walked up to the metal detector, she dropped her purse into a bucket and pushed it through the conveyer belt. Next Nora unbuttoned her jacket and opened it to reveal her shoulder holster and the pistol that rested within it. Nora held up her CIA ID and watched them look at it, and then her, before motioning her to step aside. Nora sighed and stepped aside as they looked her up in their files on the computer one of the two men was sitting in front of. The computer had a list of those agents known to be coming in today. Sure enough, her name appeared on their list, her agency picture popping up on their screen. Nora saw the man who'd initially waived her off to the side, walk back over to her and hand her back her ID.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, Agent Rogers," the man, whose own ID tag said Gerald remarked. Nora gave Gerald a smile and tucked her ID back into her left interior jacket pocket.

"No problem at all, have a good day gentleman," Nora replied as she walked through the metal detector, which instantly beeped. The two men didn't stop her and simply watched her collect her purse and walk away, her hips swaying in her skirt. As Nora walked towards the elevators, she couldn't help but hear the two men she'd just left.

"Jeez look at the ass on her, I'd give up my left kidney for a night with her," one of them muttered.

"You know all of those CIA broads are total sluts, I bet she's amazing in the sack," Gerald replied quietly. Nora simply smirked to herself as the elevator door opened. While she walked into the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor, she spoke under breath with palpable disdain.

"Boys will be boys…"

~X~

Nora exited the elevator and began the long walk to her destination, she'd never actually met the DNI, but she'd heard about the woman. Director Beckman, formerly Brigadier General Diane Beckman of the NSA, was known as an unwavering stickler for the rules. She was known to be a stick in the mud, a woman who'd collect all of the facts and then make a decision. The thing was, that decision was always final; Director Beckman was known to never, ever, ever reverse course. Nora had heard rumors that she'd done some twisted shit over the years for the greater good, and never batted an eye about it. That was why she'd risen so high so fast. The woman was only in her fifties, she'd only been retired from the CIA for seventeen years, at which point she'd moved to air force intelligence, before moving back to the NSA.

Nora had no idea why they wanted to talk to her of all people, she wasn't even a senior field agent, let alone a special agent. Nora Rogers was still a junior agent, stuck sucking cock for the greater good. This then begged the question of what the hell Director Beckman wanted with Nora Rogers? The CIA agent knew she'd find out soon enough as she rounded the corner and Director Beckman's office came into view. Nora walked to the door, but stopped before she grabbed the handle, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

"Remember what Momma always said, you are strong, you are brave, you are powerful. You are strong, you are brave, you are powerful. You are strong, you are brave, you are powerful. Come on Nora, you've got this," she muttered to herself as she grabbed the door knob and opened it with a steady expression on her face. As Nora walked in, she saw a few chairs off to the left in case people had to wait on a meeting with the Director. There was a table with a coffee maker on it off to the right, with what smelled like a fresh pot of coffee in it. As tempting as the coffee smelled, the last thing Nora needed was caffeine coursing through her veins.

"Hello there, Agent Rogers, I presume?" came the small voice of a man off to Nora's left. Nora looked over towards the voice and spotted a small, mousy looking man, sitting behind a desk. His hair, what was left of it for a man as young as he was, looked to be light brown in color. The man was wearing a light blue button-down shirt that looked a tad wrinkled.

"Yes, I'm here to see…"

"Just head on in, they're waiting for you," the man said as he pressed a button on his desk and picked up the phone.

"General, Agent Rogers is here." Nora merely stared at the man, absolutely flummoxed by his behavior. She was so confused by what was seemingly happening all around her. The man looked back towards Nora and gave her a small smile.

"Go on in, Agent Rogers, they're waiting for you," he said as he motioned towards the door. Nora turned back towards the door that she knew concealed Director Beckman, the most intimidating woman in American Intelligence. The man watched Nora walk to the door and enter nervously.

"It's always the young ones who're the most nervous," he said as he turned his attention back to his magazine.

When Nora entered the office of Director Beckman, the first thing she noticed was the styling of the room. Everything was neat and tidy, but at the same time, the styling itself was very accessible and relaxed. This was nothing like the very imposing styling of her former mentor, Langston Graham's office. Graham's office had been cold, imposing; everything about it projected power. The second thing Nora spotted was the presence of Director of Central Intelligence Michael Hawthorne, her boss's, boss's, boss, if she remembered correctly.

"Director Beckman, Director Hawthorne, Agent Nora Rogers, reporting as ordered," she said at attention, unsure of the meaning or decorum of this meeting.

"You can cut out that Director Beckman crap, call me General Beckman," Beckman replied as she turned away from her large window overlooking DC.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good morning, Agent Rogers, I hope your flight back from Florida was comfortable?" Director Hawthorne said politely. Nora blushed from embarrassment, she knew she could lie, but she'd made a promise to herself to never lie to her superiors unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Actually, Sir, I don't exactly remember all of it, you see…" she began, but Director Hawthorne simply stuck up his hand to stop her.

"I heard about the yacht, and the state you were in. If I had known what Clyde Decker had you doing down there, I'd have pulled you weeks ago. My predecessor may have believed in that stuff, but I don't and I fear I let you down, Agent Rogers," Director Hawthorne said honestly. Nora simply waved that off, struggling to make eye contact as she thought about herself critically.

"It's okay, Sir, I know my role," she said quietly, suddenly ashamed of what she'd allowed herself to become.

"Your role is about to change," General Beckman said, cutting into the conversation. Nora gave her a confused look.

"I don't understand, Ma'am."

"Have you ever heard of the Intersect Project?" General Beckman asked, pivoting the conversation to the real topic at hand. Nora simply shook her head, a look of confusion and bewilderment on her face.

"What's your security clearance?" General Beckman asked.

"5A," Nora replied, only to see the short, red haired woman face palm.

"You aren't a Senior Field Agent, are you, Agent Rogers?" General Beckman asked. Upon seeing the embarrassed shake of her head, the General spoke angrily. "Damn that bastard Graham, I don't know who he had leverage on, but it had to be someone important to keep his crooked ass out of prison." Agent Rogers simply looked at the DNI in shock, she's never heard the woman talk like that. "We're fixing this today," the General said as she walked back to her desk and grabbed her phone. As the General dialed, Director Hawthorne spoke up once again quietly.

"Would you care to sit down?" Nora saw him motion for one of the two sofas or the chair, Nora chose the chair that had the best view of the window. The view out of the window was simply breathtaking.

"Thank you, Sir," Nora replied as she sat.

"Harold, I need forms 2638-A5 and 5291-B312, and I need them within the hour." Without another word, General Beckman hung up and joined Director Hawthorne and Nora around the small coffee table.

"Okay, Agent Rogers, it's time to put our cards on the table," General Beckman began. "I've got a new assignment for you, and it's the most important assignment you've ever been given." Nora sat up straighter at those words, this sounded big. "I've got a team out in Burbank, California that needs a new agent. Their previous female agent is stepping back from field work due to some changes that have happened in her life recently. The team is the best this country has to offer, and when given the choice of any agent in the intelligence community, they picked you to be their new agent." Nora's eyes grew as huge as saucers at the implications of that revelation. Somebody hand-picked her? Somebody actually wanted Listerine Girl on their team?

"Why me?" Nora asked without thinking, realizing how disrespectful that sounded, she blushed and rephrased. "Pardon me, Ma'am, but why did they choose me? I'm nobody, I'm a junior agent, who's done nothing but sleep around for the last three years, I… I don't…" Nora trailed off as her brain struggled to understand what she was hearing.

"I gave them the pick of the litter, Agent Rogers. I gave them the files of Carina Miller, Zondra Rizzo, Daniel Shaw, James Kelvin, Sidney Price, Grace Monroe, Henry Bridger, and dozens of other elite agents, but out of all of them, they chose you. Don't think about the why; what you need to do is try to understand the magnitude of this assignment," General Beckman said, trying to pull the inexperienced CIA agent back from the full-blown panic attack that she was about to have. Langston Graham had really done a number on this girl. The Director of National Intelligence had looked into this Agent Nora Rogers and what she saw was the next Sarah Walker, but Graham had cast her aside and turned her into his own personal prostitute. Now the poor thing was so beaten down, that she couldn't actually believe that other people wanted to work with her. Maybe going to Team Intersect was the perfect thing for this girl, because if anyone could help repair this girl's shattered self-image, it was Chuck Bartowski and his wife.

Nora took a deep breath and nodded, mortified at her previous reaction. "Forgive me, Ma'am, I don't know what came over me just now," she said as she looked away.

"You've been in the field too long without a break, it happens. The good news is, your next assignment is like nothing you ever been a part of." General Beckman began as she stood up to retrieve a file from her desk. Nora watched the General, who if she was being honest, was nothing like what her reputation led Nora to believe she'd be.

"As she gets that, I wanted to explain my presence at this meeting, Agent Rogers," Director Hawthorne began. Nora simply nodded for him to continue. "My predecessor recruited you illegally, you and more than a dozen other agents. He used his tremendous political influence to get away with acts that are far outside the bounds of what is legal, let alone acceptable behavior." Nora swallowed silently as he continued. "That man made you do things that never should have happened. Red testing was discontinued more than fifteen years ago. The last three years, which saw you earn your nickname, saw you forced to engage in activities so vile and despicable that it makes me ashamed to be called an American. None of that should have been allowed to happen. It is illegal to order anyone to engage in sexual activity on behalf of the US government. So, on behalf of the Central Intelligence Agency, I'm here to offer you a formal written apology, for the horrible behavior that you've been subjected to by your previous superiors." As Hawthorne finished, he handed Nora an official document with a written apology on it, stamped with the seal of the Central Intelligence Agency.

With shaky hands, Nora reached out and grabbed the piece of paper. As she looked down at it, her hands shaking the entire time, she had to stop herself from crying several times. Nora simply nodded silently, unable to find the words to adequately convey how she was feeling.

"It never should have happened, and I know this doesn't make it go away, but I hope this helps you move past what happened," Director Hawthorne said with a soft seriousness that finally got to Nora. Michael Hawthorne, for his part, could see how much the blonde CIA agent was struggling, he couldn't blame her. This woman had been used and abused by her superiors for years. She'd earned a horrible nickname that suggested only one thing, and while everyone knew she tried to play it off, it was plain to see that Nora Rogers had been harboring a deep pain over what she'd been doing.

"I uh, need…" Nora began as she set the precious piece of paper down on the coffee table, her voice cracking with emotion.

"There is a restroom out in the hallway on the left," Hawthorne offered, Nora simply nodded, grabbed her purse, and silently left the room. Once the door closed behind Nora, Beckman and Hawthorne exchanged a look, the older man sitting back in his seat with a sigh. He ran his hand through his nearly white hair and couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor girl, she was only twenty-four, yet she was as emotionally damaged as some middle-aged burnouts.

"Poor thing, Graham really messed her up," Beckman began as she returned to the coffee table and set a large file down on it. Hawthorne simply nodded silently. "Sarah was another one of his projects," Beckman began. "Sarah and Agent Rogers are the only two still alive. Fifteen girls recruited at or under the age of sixteen into the CIA. All from criminal backgrounds, all with parents in legal trouble. All of them excelled at training, all brilliantly intelligent, but treated like tools by Langston. Those two are the only ones that lived longer than three years after entering the field. Even then, the psychological damage done to the both of them is clearly apparent when you talk to them. Having commanded Sarah for two years now, I can say with near absolute certainty that she was maybe a few months away from completely burning out and getting killed when he sent her to Burbank." As Beckman finished speaking, she reached for the official apology and looked at it. The piece of paper was such a simple thing, but it had meant so much to Agent Rogers, a clear sign of all she'd been through.

"Sending her to work with Bartowski is probably the best thing for her; god knows he worked wonders on Agent Walker," Hawthorne said as he stretched and relaxed back into his seat.

"It's Bartowski now, they got married last Saturday," Beckman said as she set the apology back down where it had been set down by Agent Rogers.

"Really?" Hawthorne replied in surprise, Beckman simply nodded. "Good for those two."

"She's pregnant as well, hence the need for Agent Rogers," Beckman mentioned as well, Hawthorne simply nodded silently.

"Never a dull moment."

~X~

Her mind was in a haze, her vision narrow and unfocused, clouded by wetness. She couldn't catch her breath, couldn't find her wind, her heart racing like Mario Andretti at the Indianapolis Five Hundred. Nora Rogers was presently in the women's restroom, in a stall, leaning against the wall in hopes that her feet wouldn't give out. She didn't even remember if she'd locked the door or not, her mind was gone, her memory lost in terrible emotion. Nora was fighting a losing battle, fighting to hold back the tsunami of tears that was banging at the floodgates. Her legs felt like they were made of tissue paper as her breath continued to allude her.

Finally, as she thought about her superior's words, her battle against the tsunami was lost and the tears came pouring out of her. She tried to silence her cries, tried to muzzle them with her hand, but she couldn't, she didn't have the strength. She broke down and let her anguish take her; Nora Rogers let the last three years of emotion pour out of her. Countless nights spent with nameless, faceless men that she didn't want to sleep with. Countless hours spent on her knees for warlords who hadn't even tried to win her heart. Never had Nora Rogers had the opportunity to give herself willingly, to give her body to someone who actually deserved that honor. And now the CIA was sorry, for all of it. She had a document that said unequivocally that the CIA had done her wrong, and they were sorry. That didn't make her forget the feeling of all those men on top of her, or the nights she'd spent in the shower scrubbing her body raw to get the feeling of being used off of her, always to no avail.

Nora Rogers wailed in anguish, her legs giving out until she was barely inches above the dirty floor. Her brain felt like it was slowly dying, her world felt like it was slowly slipping away. As her emotion swallowed her up, she wished for it to end, but she couldn't. She could see the sunlight, but she could not climb her way out of this pit that her soul was in.

"You okay, Hun?" came a feminine voice from behind Nora, who simply shook her head numbly as she continued to let her tears fall. There was the sound of footsteps behind her and then she felt a presence on her left. A hand touched her back, gently, soothingly. Nora could feel the warm of this woman against her, this woman's arm encircling her shoulders, pulling her in close.

"It's okay, Baby Girl, let it out," came that same feminine voice, her southern accent more pronounced this time. Nora did exactly that, her tears renewing once again. She knew she had people waiting for her, but she just couldn't wrangle in her crushing despair.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Nora mumbled through her tears. The feeling of a feminine hand against her head, cradling her against this woman's body, was steadying for Nora, who slowly began to quiet down.

"Don't cry, Baby Girl, everything is going to be okay," the old southern woman said soothingly as she caressed Nora's head, which was now cradled in her shoulder. "You're in pain and it's tough, but remember that every time we feel pain, we're letting it go forever." Nora sniffled into the woman's shoulder and nodded quietly, vulnerability radiating off of her like the heat of the sun itself.

"My heart is breaking, and I can't make it stop," Nora muttered pitifully, trying not to cry once more. The southern woman simply nodded and seemed to hold Nora tighter.

"I know, my dear, all you can do is let that pain go, and accept it for what it is," the woman replied as she helped Nora to her feet. Nora stood there, her shoulders sagged, her makeup a mess, her soul shattered, and all she could think about was wanting to go home and sleep. "I know you want to run away and hide from this. I know it is tempting to simply ignore what you feel and pretend like you are above this pain, but you can't do that this time, you hear?" The southern woman asked as she led Nora from the stall and over to the sinks, where she set down Nora's purse and grabbed some paper towels to clean Nora up. "We all go through pain, emotion pain, physical pain. All of us suffer, that's a part of living, my dear. What you've got to decide right now, is how you want to live. Do you want to surrender to the pain and let it run your life, or accept the pain and overcome it?" The southern woman said as she opened up Nora's purse and extracted the makeup that Nora kept in there for emergencies like this.

"It is still early, Baby Girl; today can still be a new day. Today can be the first day in a long string of brand new days." Nora nodded receptively to the woman's words, seeming to finally be getting a handle on her emotions. "Never accept the idea that today has to be anything other than what you make it. The past is the past, accept it for what it was, but don't let it shape the new day as it dawns. Okay?" the woman asked with a smile as she stepped back and inspected Nora approvingly. Nora looked to her left and saw herself in the mirror. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers in shock. Nora leaned in closer to the mirror as she admired the reflection she saw in the mirror. It looked like nothing had happened to her, like she'd never been crying. The cut on her head from the fight the day before was still visible just below her hair line, but other than that, she looked like a million bucks. Nora looked over at the woman who'd helped her and then at the makeup she'd had in her purse.

"How did you? I don't even have any of the correct stuff in here to fix this." Nora asked as she looked on in astonishment at this woman who'd helped her. The woman looked to be in her early seventies, with long grey hair. Her face was gentle, her skin tanned from time in the sun. The woman was wearing a white suit skirt, with matching shirt and shoes. Nora spotted the small Daytona 500 label pin on the woman's lapel and had to smile.

"Just years of practice, I guess," the woman said with a shrug and a smile. Nora smiled a little and nodded as she saw the woman turn to leave. Just as the woman in white pulled the door open and made to walk through it, Nora spoke up.

"Wait." The woman stopped and turned back to look at Nora with a smile on her face. "Thank you so much, I cannot thank you enough for helping me."

"It was nothing my dear, we all need a hand from time to time," the woman in white said. As Nora saw her turn to leave once more, she spoke once again urgently.

"Please, at least tell me your name." The woman seemed to smile to herself.

"Everyone calls me, Joy," Joy said with a kind smile. Nora smiled and nodded.

"Thank you, Joy," Nora said with a grateful smile on her face.

"Take care of yourself, Nora; you've got a big journey ahead of you," Joy said before leaving through the door. Joy's words left a stunned Nora to look in the mirror and wonder if she'd said her name at any point.

"How did she?" Nora muttered, before frantically shoving everything back into her purse and racing out of the restroom as fast as she could in her heels. When Nora burst back into the hallway, she looked to her left and found nothing, no sign of Joy. Looking to her right, Nora also found no sign of Joy. A feeling of confusion and unease fell over Nora briefly, but she cast it aside. Nora Rogers had to get back to her meeting with Director, no, General Beckman, and Director Hawthorne. As Nora walked back towards her superior's office, a sense of security and confidence welled up inside her. She was ready for this; she was ready for her next assignment. Today was a brand-new day and Nora Rogers was going to make the most of it.

CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #3: I told y'all we'd come back to Nora's actions in the thirteenth chapter! I told y'all that what she was ordered to do would come up again! LOL Trust me, what she was ordered to do by Graham and Decker will be a factor going forward.

CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #4: For those interested, I made a YouTube playlist with all 19 songs that inspired all of the chapters in this story so far! Just add this to the end of the YouTube URL!

playlist?list=PLp8GmTvT_x4h2ZKZBxNM_2OYgt-u1pieK

CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #5: So, what did you think of the chapter, liked it, hated it? Thoughts on Nora Rogers, now that we've gleamed a little more of what makes Nora Rogers who she is. I love hearing from all of you in your reviews, so please, please, please let me know what you think! Chapter fifteen will be posted next Tuesday, so tune in next week for more of "Desire," I hope to see you there!

Until Next Time :D