CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #1: Hello everyone! The last chapter had a great response, with many of you liking Chuck's actions to resolve the situation with Molly. To be honest, Chuck had been such a passive character in this story, I felt it was right that he became the master of this situation. Resolving the Molly situation wasn't exactly essential to Sarah's arc, so it felt right that it allowed Chuck to step up and take action. This chapter, the final one before the epilogue in a few days, is where Sarah's arc concludes.
CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #2: It would seem that Smith's death would be the logical end, but this is the government, D.C. politics, the world of spies... death is only the beginning. Below you'll see the aftermath of our spy adventure, including all of the fallout for our heroes. Many of you had thoughts on the resolution to the Graham situation, I think you'll like what I do there. This chapter is the longest of the story by far, because I had a lot of ground to cover to wrap this up. I hope all of you enjoy this chapter!
CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #3: Thanks to Nev AKA nevr for beta reading this story. I'm getting better at catching mistakes, but he checks me on my storytelling just as much as he finds my mistakes. Thanks Nev!
The Monster You Made Me
A Story by
CharmingCharles2896
Chapter Eleven
Legacies
Room SH-216 - United States Senate Select Committee on Intelligence
"Hearing about illegal activities at the Central Intelligence Agency"
United States Capitol Building, Washington D.C.
September 10th, 2023
11:25 A.M. EDT
As Sarah listened to the Senator from California, Constance Jiménez-Brown, grandstand about Sarah's actions as an Enforcer, Sarah couldn't help but tune her out and think back to the last month of her life. Sarah had wanted to move out of her D.C. apartment and begin her move across the country to Burbank, but the DOJ had other ideas. It had all started with a classified briefing in a SCIF, or Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility. Attorney General Neil Caldwell had granted Sarah immunity in exchange for testimony against the laundry list of corrupt D.C. politicians that had helped Graham over the years. Because of that immunity deal, Sarah had been in and out of DOJ meetings, committee hearings for the House of Representatives, committee hearings for the United States Senate, and countless others. Sarah was marooned in D.C., under constant surveillance for her protection, even though she was likely the most feared woman in America.
Sarah and Chuck hadn't spoken much since the two days they'd spent on the lamb together. As far as Sarah knew, both Molly and Chuck had begun seeing people about PTS, which Sarah could understand. Chuck hadn't had to testify before congress yet, but she knew he was scheduled to do so eventually. Even in spite of Sarah's temporary layover in D.C., she'd still done some work towards settling her affairs out east. CIA equipment that Sarah had in storage on the east coast had been turned over to the agency, even as she'd kept the money, identities, clothes and other personal items she could ever need to go underground. Sadly, this meant she had to give up her XM7, as well as all of her body armor, NVGs and other such equipment. For personal reasons, Sarah had hidden her bodysuit, her knives, and her pistol, wanting to keep the items for personal reasons.
Today's hearing promised to be the last one for Sarah, at least that's what Senate Intelligence Committee Chair Mel Fischer promised her. Senator Fischer was a nice enough man, not to mention he was a close friend of Director Beckman's. Senator Fischer had done his best to contain leaked information, but it wasn't long into this process that most of Sarah's redacted file made its way to the press. Names, locations, and other sensitive information was hidden, but people got the gist of her time in the CIA. In other words, two-hundred and five pages of blood, death, and destruction were dissected by the press for days and days and days. The furor over her past split right down party lines, interestingly enough. The GOP held her up as a hero who found the courage to face terrible odds in an effort to expose D.C. corruption. This in spite of the fact that half of the forty-eight GOP senators voted to approve Graham's nomination for Director of Central Intelligence years ago. D.C. Democrats, many of whom also used to be allies of Graham in some form or fashion, went out of their way to tear Sarah down as a monster who did the bidding of an evil man. The bizarre cognitive dissonance that was on display in America's capital was all very predictable for Sarah.
"Ms. Walker, am I boring you?" Senator Jiménez-Brown asked, snapping Sarah out of her thoughts. Sarah sat up straighter in her seat, which was still painful a month later due to her bruised ribs.
As Sarah looked at the California Senator, she found that she was tired of being patronized and insulted by idiot politicians. "Considering you have nothing of worth to say, I'd have to admit that you are boring me, Senator." The entire room gasped after hearing Sarah's shot. Senator Jiménez-Brown looked especially surprised that Sarah had snapped back at her.
Sarah continued speaking, knowing that it was high time to state her own case. "I find it insulting that someone like you would lecture me about morals and doing the right thing, when Graham ordered me to intimidate the whistleblower who was set to expose you for your graft on the side, or does Lendl Global mean nothing to you?" The crowd gasped once again. "In fact, Senator, I believe you were the one who put forward the appropriations bill that gave the CIA access to almost fifty-billion dollars in covert funds; funds that Graham used to operate his Enforcer Program!" The cameras of the press in front of Sarah all began taking pictures of Sarah's fury.
"Order, let's have order people," called Senator Fischer as he banged his gavel.
"Do not condemn me when half of this town is responsible for Graham's reign of terror in the first place." Sarah bellowed into her microphone, ignoring the Majority Leader.
"Order, let's have order!" Senator Fischer called as he continued to bang the gavel.
Sarah ignored Senator Fischer and continued her emotional words. "I wasn't born this way; I didn't grow up with dreams of being a killer. I had dreams when I was a kid. Growing up, all I wanted to do, more than anything, was read books and learn about the world. I wanted a normal life, with a house and a family, but Graham took that from me!"
Sarah couldn't stop the tears in her eyes as weeks of taking abuse from everyone, finally overwhelmed her. "Graham cornered me in a small room in a county jail, Senator. He'd just arrested my father, so when he offered me a new life, I had no choice but to accept. How was I supposed to know that he'd turn me into a monster? I was only sixteen years old when Graham sank his claws into me, yet nobody in this stupid town batted an eye when he turned me into an emotionless killer! Before you ask me how I could be a part of Graham's schemes; ask yourselves what part all of you played?" Sarah said before she pushed the swiveling microphone away from her face and sat back in her chair. Sarah quickly set about wiping her eyes to prevent her tears from ruining her makeup.
The press was going wild, cameras flashing everywhere while the Senators from both political parties sat back and talked to their various aides. Sarah hated losing her temper, she hated it when she wasn't in control, but it was so hard to ignore when everyone was calling you a monster. The last month had felt like before Sarah had met Chuck, back when everybody feared and hated her.
"Chairman Fischer," called Ohio Senator Roy Olsen Jr. "I believe Senator Jiménez-Brown's five minutes are up and would like my time." Sarah closed her eyes in an attempt to find her calm once again, even though all she wanted to do was leave the damn hearing and go crawl into bed for a thousand years.
"No, Ms. Walker has answered enough questions," Senator Fischer said amongst the chaos of the press and those in the gallery.
"Chairman Fischer, this is most unorthodox," Senator Olsen Jr. declared as things seemed to happen all at once.
"This hearing is officially adjourned," Senator Fischer called as he gaveled once again, clearly ignoring Senator Olsen Jr. Sarah's eyes shot open as she heard his words. "I would like to thank Ms. Walker for coming and answering our questions. This committee will reconvene in one week to begin its next scheduled hearing." Sarah stood from her seat as the press resumed taking their pictures. In that moment, Sarah just needed to get away. She was tired of being ridiculed, cross-examined, dissected like an alien. Sarah grabbed her purse, straightened out her jacket and made for the door, even as the press followed her.
"Ms. Walker, Ms. Walker," called several reporters as they followed her into the hallway. "What's it like to be America's most notorious killer?" Sarah stopped, panic and sadness flipped on their head in an instant.
Spinning on her heels, Sarah rounded on the reporters with steel in her eyes. "Who said that?" Sarah said in a tone that would strip flesh off of bone and extinguish the sun itself. The reporters froze, silenced by the ice in Sarah's words. "Who said that?" Sarah hissed as she stepped towards the reporters. A trio of reporters pointed towards a man behind them. Moving the reporters for CNN, Fox News, and MSNBC out of the way, Sarah moved towards the reporter in the tacky jacket, who looked exceedingly nervous.
"Understand something, you pathetic vulture," Sarah hissed as she grabbed ahold of the stupid reporter's stupid, rumpled shirt. Sarah saw that he was recording with his phone, but she didn't care. "I am ashamed of almost everything that I did in the CIA. It will be a long, long time before I am ever able to leave that period of my life, in the past." The reporter swallowed nervously as sweat began to appear on his brow. Sarah could feel the reporter trembling, but the potent mixture of shame, guilt, and rage that was coursing through her veins wouldn't let the fire calm within her.
Sarah let go of the reporter, who stumbled as she let go of his shirt. As Sarah's emotions continued to rage within her, she pointed her finger at the man's chest and continued. "You want to know what it's like to be a killer?" she asked, the man nervously nodding his head. "People used to avoid making eye contact with me in the hallways of Langley. They'd get off the elevator if they saw that I was getting on with them."
Taking a breath, Sarah found her body shaking as she tried to resist the urge to hurt the reporter, whose I.D. tag read Scott Westmore from ABC News. "I killed people, Mr. Westmore; I killed just about everything that ever lived or breathed. My soul was drowning in blood that I couldn't wash off no matter what I did. Every single day, I wake up wishing I could take it all back, but I know that I can't. Have you ever wished for something your entire life, only to find that when you can finally have it, you no longer feel worthy of it?" As Sarah's guilt began to overwhelm all other feelings within her, it began to show in her eyes.
Sarah saw the reporter's body language shift, her own tone softening to a guilty one. "The only thing I ever did that I am truly proud of, is the one time I chose not to take a life. I didn't do it because I wanted to get famous, I didn't do it to call myself a hero, I did it because that last, tiny shred of my soul, refused to remain silent any longer. A little girl and her loving father are alive because I chose to be a human being, instead of the monster that Graham made me." The reporters around Sarah were stunned, but Sarah ignored them as she tearfully walked past them as fast as her ace-wrapped ankle would allow her to go.
~X~
Sarah Walker's Apartment
Washington D.C.
September 10th, 2023
5:00 PM EDT
"The monster that Graham made me," Carina said over the phone as she read the headline on the New York Time's website. "Catchy headline," she said as she began to skim the article.
"I did so well in all of the other hearings and meetings. Fifteen times I was able to keep it all inside, until today," Sarah groused on her end of the phone call. In that moment, Sarah's entire body seemed to sink deeper into her cheap couch.
"What do you expect, Walker? The whole world knows your story, now. You're going to get those same questions and remarks for the rest of your life." Carina's words made the dread in Sarah's stomach even worse than it already was. "Just be glad it's over," Carina said as she looked at the picture of a tearful Sarah walking out of the committee hearing. "You're officially done with that life, which means you're coming to see me. I want a chance to see my best friend without the tranquilizer-induced hangover afterwards. A normal hangover is perfectly fine, but that tranq dart was wicked!" Carina exclaimed as she remembered the splitting headache she'd had when she awoke several hours after Sarah had shot her with it.
"I'm not done with that life," Sarah said quietly, slamming the brakes on Carina's positive attitude.
"What does that mean?" Carina said, more seriously.
"I still have one last loose end to neutralize, Carina," Sarah said quietly, hating that she had to do what loomed later in the evening.
"You're going after Graham, aren't you?" Carina asked, already knowing the answer. "Capture or kill?" she asked as a follow up.
"Kill," Sarah said plainly. Carina paused for a long moment, unsure of exactly what she should say. The silence dragged on and on for long moments until Sarah spoke up once again. "Graham is vindictive to the extreme, which means Chuck and Molly aren't safe as long as he's alive. So far, the FBI has been watching them like a hawk, but that's no way to live, long term."
"Whatever happened between you and Chuckles?" Carina asked, wondering why Sarah was still so focused on the two civilians that she saved from Graham. The sigh that Carina heard on the other end of the call wasn't annoyance, nor was it embarrassment. If anything, the sound that Carina heard was one filled with want, saddened want.
"Chuck is my friend. I am moving to Burbank, closer to him and his family," Sarah said softly as she looked out the window of her apartment, down towards the street. A part of Sarah was waiting for the joke, the wise crack that Carina always seemed to have in her back pocket for times like this.
"I'm glad to hear that," came Carina's voice, shocking Sarah.
"What?" Sarah replied without thinking.
"He's good for you, Walker. A genuinely good man like him might just be exactly what you need, when you finally walk away from this shit for good." Carina was a little shocked that she had to even elaborate on that point. "We both know that you care for that daughter of his, and from personal experience, it helps to have a support system around you when you finally do make the transition back to civilian life." It was moments like this where Sarah was grateful that she had a friend like Carina, someone who understood.
"How did you do it?" Sarah asked, having never actually broached the subject.
"My brother," Carina said nonchalantly.
"You have a brother?" Sarah replied, completely shocked by this revelation and a bit hurt that she was just now finding out.
"Yeah, his name is Nathan, he's six years older than me. Miller Aviation was originally our father's business. Nathan reluctantly took over when our father died almost ten years ago. I went to work for Nathan, if only to keep myself busy between nightmares and flashbacks. Eventually, about a year ago, Nathan turned Miller Aviation over to me when his wife, Meredith, had a job offer down south. Nathan chose to leave the business that he hated, so that she could chase her dreams. Nowadays, Nathan is a stay-at-home dad for their two children, while Meredith is the executive of some international animal rescue organization based in Miami. It worked out best for everyone." As Sarah listened to Carina speak about her family, she felt conflicted. On the one hand, she was happy that Carina was telling her this stuff, but on the other hand…
"Why haven't you told me any of this over the years?" Sarah said with a hint of hurt in her voice. Carina merely sighed, one filled with disappointment.
Carina spoke in a soft voice, one that Sarah knew was meant to soften a blow. "Sarah," Carina began, her use of Sarah's first name off-putting for the blonde. "You know I love you like a sister, but why would I tell Langston Graham's favorite Enforcer, anything about my family? Why would I ever put my family at risk by giving that kind of information to one of the most dangerous assassins on earth?" Sarah knew that Carina's reasons were good ones, she knew Carina was right, but it still hurt.
"Have you always been this afraid of me?" Sarah asked barely above a whisper, afraid to learn the answer.
"At first I was," Carina admitted. "While we were working together, your reputation scared the shit out of me. But, after a while, I knew there was good in you, deep down. That being said, until I saw you with those two civilians, a part of me wasn't sure there was enough good left to trust you with knowledge like that." That hurt, Sarah knew it shouldn't have, considering everything that had gone on during her career, but it did. Her legacy was one of violence and moral turpitude. Even if she could leave the spying and the killing in the past, could she really outlive a legacy as bloody as her's presently was?
Sarah stood from her seat on the couch and began to pace around the main living area of her apartment, sterile and lifeless as it was. "If you were so afraid of me, why have you been my friend all these years?" Sarah said after a long pause to collect herself.
"My mother used to say that if you see good in someone troubled, stick by them and help them see it too. I knew there was good in you, in spite of what Graham had you doing for him. A part of me, especially after I retired, was hoping that you'd see Graham for what he was. As time moved along, I saw a change in you, away from your blind loyalty to that monster. I had faith that one day, you'd finally wake up and realize what Graham had made of you. I feel my faith was rewarded, don't you?" Carina said with a hint of satisfaction, mixed with affection.
Sarah smiled a small smile. "Thanks, Red," Sarah said as she saw the clock on her wall, it was almost time to get going. "I need to get packed; I'll talk to you later," Sarah said as she made for her bedroom.
"It's nothing, Blondie, talk to you later," Carina said before the call ended. With the call over, Sarah tossed her phone onto her bed and turned her attention to her closet. Pulling it open, Sarah was greeted by an assortment of clothes, casual wear on the left, with clothes getting progressively more formal as she looked down the rack. Reaching into her closet, Sarah parted the rack of clothes like the red sea. There, against the back wall, was a small dent in the white, drywall. Reaching for it, Sarah pressed her thumb to it and heard a beep. With her thumb print confirmed, the back wall of the closet slid back and parted in the middle to expose something more sinister. Sarah looked at the item hanging in the secret compartment with contempt. Mounted like a trophy, stood Sarah's mission outfit, her evil twin as it were.
Looking at it now, after having gotten some distance from that life, she saw how much it intentionally accentuated or outright exaggerated her curves. Make no mistake, Sarah Walker was a knockout in anything, but in that outfit, she was a stunner. In hindsight, Sarah now understood how much Graham had used her; abused her in subtle ways, just small enough not to be noticed in the moment. Pulling the black catsuit out of the closet, Sarah could feel the Kevlar interwoven into the material to provide some level of protection from knives and small caliber gunfire. Beyond the function, holding it in her hands felt like shaking hands with the devil, a devil with blonde hair.
~X~
After arriving at Reagan International, Sarah was taken to a backroom that the NSA often used when conducting covert business. From there she was secreted onto a private NSA plane and flown to Miami. After landing in Miami, the plane moved to a special hanger off to the side of the airport, one the NSA often used in situations such as this. After disembarking from the plan, Sarah was lead to a room in the back of the hangar. Walking into the room, Sarah was met by a man in a Costa Gravan uniform. The man stood up; he was tall and thin of build.
"Good evening," the Costa Gravan man said with a suave, Latin-American accent. "Your Director Beckman tells me that you don't like being called Agent Walker, so I hope Ms. Walker is fine?" Sarah gave the man a small smile and a nod.
"That's perfect," she said warmly as she reached out and shook the man's hand. Looking at the man's official uniform, Sarah saw a nameplate that read, Castro-Neves. "What should I call you?" Sarah asked the man, who looked down at his nameplate, then back to her.
"I am Colonel Armand Castro-Neves of the People's Home Guard, the equivalent to your country's CIA. The Premier has sent me to act as your official liaison between our governments while this matter is resolved." Sarah gave the Colonel a confused look.
"Resolved?" Sarah asked with a raised eyebrow, cautious of trusting the man before her.
"Our governments have come to the mutual conclusion that Mr. Graham's stay in Costa Gravas is not in the best interest of my country. However, due to the politics between our countries, it cannot look like the Premier cooperated with your government," the Colonel said delicately, getting a nod from Sarah.
"We're neighbors who tolerate each other, but we are not friends," Sarah said with an understanding nod.
Colonel Castro-Neves nodded emphatically as an agreeable smile appeared on his face. "Very good, Ms. Walker, that is very good. Your Director Beckman tells me that you are the person best suited to resolve this." That twinge in Sarah's stomach from earlier in the day returned as she thought of the implications of a remark like that. Sarah put on a forced smile and nodded, even as she hated what he was implying.
"I have a plane waiting to fly us back to Costa Gravas. When we approach Santa Montero, you will parachute from the plane, northwest of the palace, but southwest of Santa Montero. You will hike the remaining distance to the palace, which you will find completely unguarded. Get into the palace, find the target, and kill him. His family will not be there when you arrive, so the target will be all alone. When you have completed your task, find a car at the palace and head due east on the main road. When you arrive at the coast, you will see a dock and a fishing vessel, waiting for you. The men on board will take you to the rendezvous in Miami, at which point your NSA will collect you." In that moment, Sarah was thankful for her incredible memory, because that was a lot to take in at once. Sarah nodded that she understood the Colonel, who nodded in return and motioned for her to follow him.
"Before we go, can I have a few minutes to make a personal call? I may not have the chance to do so for a long while. I promise I won't be long," Sarah asked, pleadingly. The Colonel nodded and motioned towards the door, leaving Sarah alone. No matter how much Sarah understood the righteousness of what she was being asked to do, she had misgivings. Sarah pulled out her phone and called the one person who she knew she could trust to have a good soul.
"Sarah?" came the smooth voice of Chuck Bartowski.
"Yeah, it's me, are you busy right now? I could really use a friend to talk to." Sarah hated how needy she sounded, but she needed to talk to him, desperately. The sound of movement on the other end of the call told Sarah that she'd caught Chuck at work.
"Sure, what's up?" Chuck replied, clearly in a much quieter location.
"I just…" Sarah didn't even know how to begin this conversation, but she persisted. "How are you and Molly doing? I've been so busy; I haven't had the chance to call you in weeks."
"Molly's made of strong stuff, like her mother was," Chuck began.
"Like her father as well," Sarah added, needing to correct Chuck's slight against himself.
Chuck ignored that and continued. "She's had a few nightmares, mainly about the urgent care clinic." Sarah's heart lurched in her chest as she thought about poor Molly Bartowski, battling demons that no child should have to battle.
"What about you?" Sarah asked, feeling like Chuck was dancing around her question a bit.
"Going back to work's been… difficult. Every time something makes a loud sound, I duck and cover. The two of us are seeing counselors, so things are in flux, to say the least." Sarah hated that Chuck was struggling, especially because she wasn't there to help him like she wanted to be.
"I'm sorry," Sarah said softly.
"It's nothing," Chuck said to assuage her worry. "What about you? Something must be on your mind to prompt a call like this," Chuck's perceptiveness was Sarah's weakness, as was his incredible ability to help her open up.
"Remember at the hospital, when I told you that we'd play the Graham thing by ear?" Sarah began.
There was a long pause on the other end of the call before Chuck's unsteady voice filled her ear. "Don't tell me he's after Molly and I, again. We can't do all of that again, I just can't do it, Sarah." Sarah winced, cursing her lack of skill where talking to people was concerned.
"It's nothing like that, Chuck, relax," Sarah said soothingly, before her friend had a full-blown panic attack. Sarah heard Chuck take a deep breath, obviously calming down. "That night with Agent Smith," Sarah said, not knowing any other way than to simply dive in.
"Yeah?" Chuck answered with a cagey lilt in his voice.
"Before we left for Brooklyn Park, I gave Beckman the number to my burner phone, just in case. While I was waiting for Molly's test results, Beckman gave me a call." In that moment, Sarah called upon everything within herself as she screwed up the courage to say what she knew had to be said.
"I'm following you, so far; what did Beckman say?" Chuck asked, giving Sarah the gentle push that she needed to finally say the quiet part out loud.
"As long as Graham is out there, he is a threat to you and Molly. Graham is an extremely vengeful person and he will never stop trying to make you and I pay for what happened. This is why those FBI agents follow you and Molly all the time."
"I knew those guys were feds!" Chuck said to himself, as if he'd given it a ton of thought. Sarah felt a small smile make its way onto her face, Chuck's exuberance intoxicating.
Sarah took a deep breath and said what had been on her mind constantly for the last five days. "Knowing that my time with the CIA is finished, Beckman has asked me to go to Costa Gravas and terminate Graham, off the books of course." Sarah waited, unsure exactly how Chuck would take what she'd just admitted to him.
"I don't want you to think less of me, Chuck. I'm really trying to leave all of this behind me, but I can't seem to escape it," Sarah admitted. Since Sarah had accepted Beckman's invitation to resolve the Graham situation, the lingering doubt about Chuck's reaction had haunted her.
"I hate that you have been asked to do more killing, especially for Molly and I," Chuck finally said in a soft voice. "I've seen the news, read all of the stories. You've been asked to give so much of yourself, to endure so many horrible moments. You've never gotten much, if anything in return for those moments." The real emotion in Chuck's voice did a bit to calm her worry about what he'd think of her.
"You're not going to think less of me for killing again?" Sarah's self-conscious question had come from deep within her, from a place she didn't often like to visit.
After a pause, Sarah heard Chuck's voice once more. The tone of his voice was wholly different than before. "My father was never the same after my mother's death. He never accepted the story they gave him. Her death broke his heart and he stopped being a father after that. My father just… existed, in the years following her death."
Sarah listened to Chuck, curious as to where he was going with this. "Ellie had to pick up the slack in his pseudo-absence, acting as both a parent and sister at the same time. My father died of a stroke at the age of forty-eight. He wasn't even fifty years old and I think it was almost a relief for him to finally be free of the pain of his loss. Langston Graham killed both of my parents, the day he murdered my mother." Sarah heard the change in Chuck's voice, the festering anger, the decades-old rage that burned deep within his heart.
"Molly isn't safe as long as Graham is at large; none of us are," Chuck said as his voice seemed to build in strength. "I will never get the satisfaction of Graham paying for his crimes. I will never get to see him drug before God and everyone, to be brought to task for all that he has done. I have had to make my peace with that disappointing reality. If I can't see Graham face his crimes, then I want you to go down there and kill him for me, Sarah."
Sarah was shocked by the turn in Chuck's words, as well as the tone of his voice. Chuck wasn't a vengeful person, so to hear this from him was unnerving. Chuck's voice cracked as emotion welled up within him. "Please, just end this horrible mess once and for all, so that my family can finally move on."
Hearing the pain and sadness in Chuck's voice from all that had gone down, Sarah's own shame over the idea of killing once again, vanished. What had been guilt and shame, became a determination to end the suffering of the Bartowski family once and for all. Sarah was going to do this for Chuck Bartowski, so he never had to feel the sadness that haunted him ever again. Langston Graham's Enforcer was about to become his executioner, something Sarah now understood was long overdue.
~X~
The Skies Over Costa Gravas…
3.6 Miles Northwest of Palacio Del Conquista
September 10th, 2023
10:47 PM EDT
Wearing her mission outfit felt strangely foreign and comforting at the same time. The feeling of the bodysuit against Sarah's skin was familiar, but gave her no solace. Wearing this outfit once more felt like wading back into the darkness after weeks in the light. For many, long years, Sarah Walker had stared into the abyss, even diving into it on more than one occasion. This felt different, wrong, like the abyss was calling to her. The seductive siren song of the horrifying abyss wouldn't leave Sarah's brain alone. Having all of her equipment by her side once again was almost dissociating, as if the feeling of her silenced pistol in its thigh holster was pushing Sarah Walker, the person, back inside the horrifying depths of Agent Walker.
Sarah wasn't particularly sure how all of this was going to turn out. Her orbital bone had healed well enough, as had her bruised ribs, but her ankle was still sore. The walking boot had served its purpose for two weeks, but eventually, Sarah had moved on to ace wrapping her ankle instead. The idea of landing with a hurt ankle after parachuting from a plane was not the most reassuring idea. Then again, the long, uphill hike that awaited Sarah after she landed wasn't going to be easy on her ankle either.
"Are you ready?" called Colonel Castro-Neves as he made his way to the rear of the private plane. The plane itself was small, a twin-engine propeller driven aircraft best suited for private flights. Sarah looked over at the Colonel and nodded, though her face looked anything but confident.
"At the base of the mountain, there is a small clearing beside the main road, which winds its way up the mountain. That clearing is your best landing zone, it is illuminated by a lone street light." Sarah nodded to the Colonel to continue. "When you land, it will be tempting to walk the main road up the mountain to the palace, but too many cars travel that road, even at this late hour. Once you're on the ground, make for the trees to the southeast and hike up to the palace. With the way the plane is pointed, you will see Santa Montero on your right, about three miles away."
The colonel reached for a bag that was stashed underneath one of the dozen or so seats. "It will be extremely dark in those trees, so you'll need these," the Colonel said as he pulled a pair of NVGs out of the bag. Sarah had been secretly wondering how she was going to make this work without her NVGs, the CIA having confiscated that stuff weeks ago. Sarah smiled at the Colonel and accepted the equipment.
"Thank you, Colonel," Sarah said softly as she checked the equipment over to make sure it was up to snuff.
"Just turn them over to the men on the fishing boat when you exfil," the Colonel said to Sarah, who nodded.
"Two minutes to drop point!" called the pilot. Sarah looked over the Colonel's shoulder to the pilot, knowing it was time. Sarah checked her altimeter, on her left wrist, her compass that was clipped to her utility belt, and then the straps for her parachute. Knowing that everything was as ready as any of it would ever be, Sarah moved towards the door. The Colonel opened the door inwards, sliding it out of the way. The buffeting air was unpleasant, but it couldn't be helped. The Colonel flipped the interior lights of the plane off as Sarah moved towards the door. Sarah slipped the night vision goggles over her head and switched them on, her vision turning various shades of green in an instant.
"Good luck, Ms. Walker," the Colonel said to Sarah as he extended his hand. Sarah shook the Colonel's hand and then refocused on the door. Reaching out with both hands, Sarah grasped onto the sides of the doorway and stepped forward.
"Thirty seconds to drop point!" the pilot called, prompting Sarah to move even closer, until she could see outside.
"This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy," Sarah mused in her head on a loop as she prepared to sky dive for the first time since her time at the Farm, seven years ago.
"Go, go, go!" Sarah heard over the sound of the buffeting. Without another word, Sarah hurled herself out of the plane and into the darkened skies over Costa Gravas. Looking around, Sarah saw Santa Montero to her right, resting cozily in a valley. The headlights of cars driving along the main road into the capital of the tiny nation, told Sarah exactly where the main road was. Looking to her left, Sarah spotted the mountain, standing some three-thousand seven-hundred and five feet tall. Atop the mountain was a large palace, Palacio del Conquista.
Looking at her altimeter, Sarah saw that she was at three thousand feet, having jumped from four thousand feet. Sarah was trained in the art of HALO jumps, also known as High Altitude Low Opening. This was the practice of jumping from extreme heights and opening the parachute at extremely low altitudes. The lowest Sarah had ever opened her chute at the Farm was one-thousand, four-hundred feet. While this wasn't a particularly high jump, she was still going to do a low opening. Periodically watching her altimeter, Sarah guided herself towards the small clearing that the Colonel had described to her. The Clearing was maybe two-hundred feet across, hardly enough for a safe insertion.
Knowing there was no use dwelling on it, Sarah focused on her altitude and doing her best to line herself up for her landing. When she saw two-thousand feet, Sarah pulled her chute, knowing she needed the extra time to guide herself in. In an instant, Sarah's entire body lurched as the parachute did its job and decelerated her quickly. Grabbing onto the little handles, Sarah guided her chute down to earth. As the clearing came into view, Sarah realized something.
"This is going to hurt…" Not long after, Sarah descended into the clearing and made to land. As her feet came into contact with the ground, her parachute carried her forwards, through the clearing, across the main road, and into the trees. Sarah felt her feet snag on a bush and in an instant, she upended and landed with a thud on the dirt. As Sarah looked up at the trees above her, she groaned.
"Yep, that hurt." Sarah sat up gently, looking around at her surroundings. She had come to a stop in the trees, but thankfully she wasn't caught up in them. Unclasping her parachute bag from her backpack, Sarah stood up. In no time at all, Sarah cut her parachute out of the tree branches that it was caught in and buried it and the bag it came in, under some brush. Looking down at her utility belt, Sarah glanced at her compass, pointed herself in the right direction and began hiking.
The hike itself wasn't the worst hike she'd had to do for an assignment, but her ankle wasn't liking the uneven terrain. In fact, Sarah was surprised by her slow progress up the mountain. What would have taken her forty minutes to an hour just two months ago, took Sarah Walker almost three hours. The need to stop every twenty minutes and massage her aching ankle, made things slow going.
"Thank god I don't have to walk back down when I'm done," Sarah mused as she spotted another clearing ahead. She'd had to cross over the main road several times on her way up as it snaked down the mountain to the valley below. This clearing was different, with no more mountain on the other side of the road. As Sarah came to the clearing, she lingered in the brush and surveyed what she saw ahead. The palace that she saw before her was imposing, with stone walls ten feet high and a wrought iron gate. The entire palace was dark except for a single room, with a dull amber glow emanating from a small window. As far as Sarah could see, there wasn't a guard in sight, exactly as the Colonel said.
Knowing it was time to get moving, Sarah left the cover of the trees and hobbled across the main road, coming to a rest against the stone wall. Sarah took a deep breath to slow her heart rate, the exertion from the hike, combined with nerves over facing Graham again, had Sarah all sorts of off kilter. Moving towards the large, iron gate, Sarah was surprised when it was already opened a crack. As quietly as Sarah could muster, she pushed one of the doors inward enough for her slip through, onto the grounds of the palace. Ahead of Sarah, was a large cobblestone driveway that looped around an impressive fountain, though the fountain wasn't active, the water completely drained from it. The closer Sarah got to the palace, the more she was noticing the sorry state of it. Windows were broken, shrubbery was disturbed or even outright ripped from the ground. The closer she got, the more this place looked less like a palace, and more like the prison cell of a monster.
The front doors, thick wooden doors that stood over eight feet tall and four feet across each of them, were open, revealing a dark, unkempt interior. Sarah pulled her pistol from its holster and flipped off the safety. As she gently pushed the heavy door open more than it was, she had but one thought; "once more into the lion's den." The palace smelt putrid, the scent of sweat and unkempt human mixed to create a horrid smell. The large foyer that Sarah walked into had a chandelier, but it wasn't on. The art adorning the walls had been torn down or destroyed, all in various ways. The effect of what she saw was the impression of chained up rage.
Sarah walked deeper into the massive, stone palace. Each of her steps was silent, like the whispering breeze against a hay field. Stopping to listen, Sarah heard a sound; voices, two women. Turning around to return to the foyer, Sarah looked up the stairs, listening as she did so.
Director Graham often gave me the impression of a man who wanted me sexually, though I always rebuffed him. I know for a fact, that angered him, made him resent me to a degree. His demands of me always grew, never diminished, to the point where he had me doing assignments that were impossible, suicidal even. Part of me has wondered if he was trying to kill me without having to actually send someone to do the job.
The sound of Sarah's voice from one of her numerous congressional hearings, made her heart race. Was Graham listening to her testimony? If he was, to what end? Sarah didn't know the answers to those questions, so she moved towards the stairs and ascended them silently. Each step up the stairway felt like one step closer to something that, in a sense, had always been inevitable. No matter how her career went, a part of Sarah had known it would end with a final confrontation with Langston Graham.
They say when Cortez arrived in the Americas, he burned his ships, so that there was no temptation to return home, no going back to what was before. Director Graham felt it best to fake my death and give me a new identity. My old life, as well as any family I had left, were taken from me in that moment. With no life to return to, I embraced the only direction I had left available to me, even though I was only sixteen at the time.
Every word that Sarah heard made that twinge in her stomach, roil just a bit more than before. As Sarah arrived at the top of the stairs, she was greeted by the sight of a long hallway, that stretched onwards towards eighter side of the palace, left and right. A dozen, ornate doors on either side. The hallway itself was littered with papers, clothes, furniture. It looked like someone had ransacked the place, torn everything they could find, to shreds in a fit of anger. To Sarah's left, she could see a lone light at the end of the hall, peeping through the space underneath a door. Sarah moved towards the door, silently listening to the sounds of her own words to different committees.
When did I begin to question Graham? I would have to say that the first time I began to question Director Graham's motives would be the first time he sent me to terminate someone. Up to that point, four years since I'd first met the man, he'd always assured me that I wasn't going to be a killer. When he ordered me to terminate someone for the first time, he promised me it was the next step in my career. I completed my assignment, no matter how much of my soul was torn out in that moment. Afterwards, Graham showered me with praise, something he'd never done before. In that moment, I began to wonder about things, though it would be many, many bloody years before that doubt would become strong enough for me to finally stand against him.
Sarah came to the doorway, a lamp clearly on inside the room. Sarah flipped up her NVGs and reached for the knob with her left hand. Slowly turning the knob, Sarah pushed the door open at a snail's pace, so as not to make a sound. The inside of the room looked… disturbingly well-put-together. The bed she saw in the room was made; the floor cleaned. Sarah walked through the door, seeing a large TV resting on top of a long dresser that spanned the entire wall. On each side of the TV there was small window, facing towards the front of the palace. Looking at the room further, Sarah saw a teddy bear on the bed, something a child would carry with them. After picking up the bear, Sarah sniffed it. The scent of children, joy and laughter and sunshine, was still on the bear. The bear must have been Graham's daughter's, they must have left not long ago.
"I'm glad it's you," came Graham's voice behind Sarah. In a flash, Sarah dropped the bear, spun around and pointed her pistol in the direction of the voice. The man Sarah saw was nothing like the Langston Graham she remembered from a month ago. Graham looked thinner than before, large bags under his eyes from a lack of good sleep. The general state of Graham was one of disorganization and intense, negative emotion. In his hand, Sarah saw a revolver, chrome-plated. Graham looked down at his pistol, then back to Sarah. "I'm assuming Beckman sent you here to finish the job." Graham's words weren't so much a question as stating a fact for confirmation.
"Yes, I'd have come here sooner, but I had to heal after fighting off the others," Sarah said in a clipped tone. Graham nodded his head and motioned for Sarah to sit, even as he walked around her and sat down in an old, wooden rocking chair. As he sat down, Sarah watched Graham switch the TV off.
"Watching my most trusted Enforcer speak about her career was enlightening. It would seem I misjudged you, Agent Walker," Graham said in a softer, more honest tone than any other time she'd spoken to him. Sarah sat down on the edge of the bed; her pistol still pointed at Graham.
"How so?" Sarah asked, wearily.
"I did not train your conscience out of you as much as I thought. Oh, my people did a great job turning you into the perfect Enforcer, but I misjudged the goodness in you. I thought that considering your criminal past, you had no scruples. Ordering you to kill that little girl was too far."
"You were ordering me to murder a little version of myself. You were ordering me to hurt an innocent little girl who never did anything wrong," Sarah said angrily as she thought back to that night so many weeks ago. Graham merely nodded in agreement, which seemed to anger Sarah more than anything.
"You made me do so many awful things," Sarah said angrily, even as other emotion boiled up within her. "I hurt so many innocent people because of you."
"Don't expect me to apologize for using you, Agent Walker. We both know I'd never ask for forgiveness and you'd never give it to me, even if I did ask." Sarah nodded in agreement.
"Before I kill you, tell me one thing," Sarah began, getting a nod from the tall, black man. "Why me? Why did you choose me? Why was I the one that you made into your ultimate Enforcer?" Graham sat back in his chair, thinking for a long moment.
Eventually, Graham let go of a deep sigh and sat forward once again. "I saw a lot of myself in you," Graham said to Sarah, who sat back in shock, clearly confused and horrified. "I grew up beyond dirt poor, lived on the street, lacking any semblance of structure in my life. Edwin Mathis plucked me out of an Alabama gutter in nineteen seventy-three and made me one of his Enforcers; I was only sixteen years old. In you, I saw raw potential. I saw a girl with a gifted mind, who had athletic talents that she didn't even know she possessed. I saw the perfect candidate for my Enforcer Program, a clean slate to mold as I saw fit, unlike the rejects and retreads that made up the rest of the Enforcers."
"You made me into a monster," Sarah said, interrupting Graham with a burst of anger.
"You're right, Agent Walker, I did make you into something less than human. I became the head of the agency because of that decision. I pushed you and pushed you, because at every opportunity for you to break, you overcame instead. Every time I leaned on you, you found more to give. I was hard on you, maybe even too hard, but you cannot deny that I gave you gifts that most people couldn't even dream of." Graham saw the fury in Sarah's eyes, explosive blasts of rage and hatred.
"I never wanted this life," Sarah began as she stood up from the bed, towering over Graham in his rocking chair. "I never wanted to be a killer, I only ever wanted to help people."
"You say that, but you only ever protested one time. You killed many people without even blinking an eye, and yet you want me to believe that you didn't want to be a killer?" Graham laughed at Sarah in that moment, belly laughed. "Don't kid yourself, Agent Walker, you are what you always were, deep down."
"I often wonder how anyone could see good in me after all that I have done. In the end, I have come to realize that I have to trust that my friends see the real me," Sarah said honestly as she tightened her grip on her pistol.
Graham eyed her pistol, even as she continued to speak. "Chuck Bartowski is a good man and he sees good in me," Sarah said. "When I walk out of here, I am going to leave all of this behind. I am going to have friends, I am going to live the life that I want, not the one that you designed for me." Sarah raised her pistol, pointing it at Graham's forehead. As she looked into Graham's eyes, her hand began to shake, tears welling up in her eyes.
After a tense beat, Graham smiled a sad, knowing smile and spoke softly. "I can see it in your eyes; you are not the woman that I once knew. You want me dead, but you don't want to do it." Graham raised his own pistol to his temple as Sarah's faltered.
"The entire world has learned about what I've done. My wife and children think I'm a monster. Only one move left to make it would seem," Graham said as his thumb pulling back the shinning hammer. "Go live your life, Ms. Walker; I can see no Enforcer left in you," Graham said before pulling the trigger.
Sarah looked away as the thunderous crack of Graham's revolver ended his life, the monster of a man going out on his terms. As Sarah's eyes peered back over towards the dead corpse of her boss, a tremendous swelling of emotion overwhelmed her. Acting like a zombie, Sarah slid her pistol back into the holster, and walked out of the room. Sarah walked down the hallway in silence, finally coming up on the last room in the hallway before the stairs down to the ground floor. Sarah pushed the door open, seeing an empty bedroom. Sarah flipped on the light in the room, closed the door behind her, and stood there for a long moment.
Emotions were swirling around inside Sarah, each one more powerful than the last. Eventually, the dam holding back the flood of water that made up Sarah's broken heart, gave way. All through the house, Sarah's heartbroken wails could be heart. Tremendous screams of grief, guilt and regret poured from the former assassin. Eventually, the years of pent-up emotion had waned, leaving Sarah feeling empty, lifeless. Knowing there was more left to be done, Sarah pulled out her burner phone, one number programmed into it. Hitting the contact, Sarah dialed and brough the phone to her ear.
"Ms. Walker?" came the voice of Diane Beckman, likely at her home at this late hour.
"It's done," Sarah said emotionlessly.
"Make your way to the extraction point. Once you're back in the States, there will be someone there to fly you back to D.C.," Beckman said calmly, her voice sounding tired.
"Thank you, Ma'am," Sarah said numbly.
"With this matter finally behind us; what's next for you, Ms. Walker?" Beckman asked Sarah, her question seeming to pull Sarah out of her emotional fog.
"I want to buy a house; a house with a red door and a white picket fence like my grandmother's house used to have. I want to get a real job and have real friends that trust me as much as I trust them." Beckman was struck by Sarah's simple, almost innocent desires. Then again, as she thought about all that she'd learned about the former Enforcer, could Beckman really blame someone for wanting what they'd never had?
"I hope you get everything you want in life, Sarah," Beckman replied softly. "If you ever need help, give me a call."
"So long, Diane," Sarah said softly, hearing the call end. In that moment, it felt like a chapter of Sarah's life had finally, mercifully ended, as if the unceasing cavalcade of guilt and horror was finally over. Setting her phone down on the dresser, Sarah quickly shed the backpack designed specifically for her bodysuit, setting it on the ground. As Sarah untied her boots and kicked them off, the feeling of her feet against the floor felt freeing. Next, Sarah unzipped the skin-tight bodysuit that adorned her body. As the bodysuit began to give way, it felt like Sarah was shedding an unwanted skin, like a part of her that corrupted all around her, was finally leaving her for good. As her bodysuit gave way and slowly slipped down her long legs and onto the floor, Sarah set about removing everything else. As strange as it sounded, Sarah removed her underwear as well, as if all of it was tainted by the damned bodysuit. Standing bare, reborn, a newborn Sarah Walker, she reached for her bag. Opening up the backpack, Sarah pulled out brand-new clothes. The simple, black, women's tee shirt had a movie poster on the front. Looking at the poster, Sarah had to smile a small smile, she knew Chuck would appreciate it.
The Land Unknown
The shirt was hilariously on the nose, as bizarre as that was. With Graham's death, Sarah found herself in a strange new world. Everything that was keeping her chained to the world she'd previously inhabited, was now gone. Sarah Walker, the much-feared Enforcer, was free at last. Sarah didn't know how to feel in that moment. The lingering dread of the life she'd been living had hung over her like a black cloud for years. Even in moments where her past life wasn't at the center of her thoughts, that lingering dread was always there, like a steady drum beat in the distance.
Sarah continued to looked at the shirt once more and laughed at herself. One of the things Sarah remembered the most about Chuck's apartment was the movie posters for fifties science fiction films. When Sarah had seen this shirt on Amazon, she'd known she had to have it. Setting the shirt aside, Sarah pulled out a matching bra and panty set; new, lacy, perfect for a new her. Finally, Sarah pulled out a pair of snug-fitting blue jeans and a pair of flats, much like the ones she'd worn on that most trying day. Before Sarah dressed, she made for the bathroom, needing to wash the blood and god knows what else off of her.
After a quick shower, Sarah returned to her clothes and began to get dressed. As each garment went on, more and more of the old Sarah seemed to turn to ash and blow away in the wind. As her shirt went over her head, Sarah remembered the last of her things to put on. Reaching for the bag, Sarah looked into it and found the tiny white envelope that she'd slipped into the bag. Opening the envelope, Sarah poured a gold necklace into her hand. The gold, crucifix necklace was old, the last piece of her mother that she had left. The simple necklace was something Sarah had always had with her after she'd left with her father, though she hadn't worn it in almost fifteen years, never feeling worthy of it. Slipping it over her head felt therapeutic to the extreme, as if her mother was back with her once more, instead of a distant, painful memory.
Now fully dressed, Sarah set about packing up her mission gear. With her new clothes on, Sarah felt reborn, completely separated from that monster that she once was. With her old life now packed into her backpack, Sarah felt ready to step out into a brand-new world. No longer seeing the need to be discreet, Sarah pulled out her burner phone and flipped on the little flashlight. The light wasn't great, but Sarah made it work as she made her way downstairs. Opening the door to the garage, Sarah felt around for the light switch, eventually finding it. As the lights came on, Sarah saw a black, Mercedes Benz e-class. Beside the Mercedes sat a rusted jeep with a canvas top and muddy tires. Beside the Jeep, a baby blue, nineteen sixty-three Chevrolet Impala convertible sat proudly. Smiling to herself, Sarah found the keys to the Impala and took off into the night. The smile on her face as she drove down the dark road was one of peace at long last. The midnight sky was one filled with stars, brilliant displays of celestial wonderment. It was a long drive down the coast to the boat that was waiting to take her back to the United States, but Sarah was in no rush, she had a whole lifetime to get where she was going.
When Sarah did arrive at the coast, she saw the fishing boat, exactly as the Colonel had described it. Sarah parked in the small lot beside the dock and grabbed the NVGs and her backpack. Walking to the dock, Sarah was greeted by three men, all of them standing around smoking cigarettes.
"Who are you?" one of them men asked in a thick Latin-American accent.
Sarah held up the NVGs and smiled as she spoke, "a certain Colonel Castro-Neves, told me to leave these with you." The man nodded in understanding, took the goggles from her, and motioned for her to follow.
"Vamos," one of the other men said as he made for one of the ropes that tethered the boat to the dock. After Sarah boarded, the boat took off into the night, the late-night air cool against her skin as they made for the American coast. As the minutes wore on, the men seemed to ignore Sarah, which was fine with her. Sarah was standing at the back of the large fishing vessel that smelt of fish and work. The backpack in her hands felt heavy, the contents like a weight on her. So much death had been caused by the contents of that backpack. Looking up at the moon, Sarah wondered what her future would be like. Would she have a family of her own? Would Chuck's family accept her? Would she be able to find work, with so many people knowing who she used to be? With so much left outstanding it was appealing for Sarah to get down on herself, to give up and sulk. Looking at the ocean trailing behind the boat, Sarah got the feeling that she was seeing time itself retreat into the distance.
Knowing that she wanted her past to remain in her past, Sarah looked down at her backpack. The contents of her backpack were things she'd never touch again, things that had no more use to her. If they had so little value, why was she keeping them?
"I am not the monster that you made me," Sarah mused silently as she brought the backpack up and set it down on the ledge at the end of the boat. Unzipping the main pocket, Sarah saw all of the items that Agent Walker used to value so much. Reaching in, Sarah started with the utility belt, so many of the items were things she'd accumulated over the years, little tools that she'd though were useful. Without thinking, Sarah tossed the utility belt off the back of the boat and watched it disappear into the inky-black darkness. Reaching in again, Sarah pulled out her boots. The boots in her hand had walked on six continents, been to countless countries and had accompanied her on most of her assignments. If anything, as Sarah looked at the bottoms of the boots, she was looking at the footprint of Agent Walker. Sarah tossed them into the ocean as well, each one making a splash.
Reaching in a third time, Sarah's hand was greeted by the feeling of cold steel. Grasping ahold of her pistol, Sarah slid it out of its holster and looked at it in the moonlight. Sixteen people were killed using this pistol. No singular item had done more damage when Agent Walker was working. Sarah tossed it away, watching it spin and twirl through the air before disappearing under the surface, gone forever. Reaching in again, Sarah pulled out the physical manifestation of Agent Walker. Sarah had to set the backpack down at her feet as she held her bodysuit up.
Looking at the suit, Sarah was assaulted by emotions, guilt chief among them. When Graham had given her the first version of this suit, he'd told her it was to keep her safe. In truth, it was a way to further separate Agent Walker from the person she used to be. The outside of the bodysuit was black like Graham's wicked soul, cold like his demeanor, and filled with ill intent. "I will never let myself be like you, again," Sarah said softly, tearfully as she tossed the black garment into the ocean, watching it float in the surface for long moments before finally disappearing for good.
Sarah grabbed her backpack once again, searching to see if there was anything left in the main pocket. Finding the main pocket empty, Sarah opened the front pocket to check, only to find something she'd made herself forget about long ago. Sarah pulled an old photograph out of the backpack, tossing it over the side as well, the backpack forgotten. Sarah looked at the photo of her on a Blackhawk helicopter, an M4 in her hands. The smile on her face seemed strained, forced. Flipping the photograph over, Sarah saw handwritten text on the back.
Proof that Agent Walker knows how to smile!
Karachi - February 14th, 2022
Sarah looked miserable in the photograph, even though Sarah distinctly remembered feeling good about the work she'd just finished accomplishing with the Deltas. With emotional peaks so low, it was no wonder Chuck's inherent goodness felt beyond anything she'd ever known. In a final goodbye to the woman that she used to be, Sarah kissed the photograph and let it gently slip from her fingers, lost to the briny depths.
"Goodbye, Agent Walker," Sarah whispered as the last vestiges of her old life disappeared beneath the waves.
Sarah watched her past disappear into the distance. A voice behind her called out to her. "What are you doing all the way over there?" Turning around, Sarah saw two of the three men looking at her, waving her over. Sarah thought for a beat, before stepping away from the back of the boat and making her way to the front. As she arrived at the bow of the boat, the shorter of the two Costa Gravan men offered her a cigarette, which she kindly declined.
"You're a lot taller in person than you look on television," one of the men said to Sarah, who chuckled at that remark.
"Most people are intimidated by my height," Sarah admitted, both men nodded in understanding. "You have a beautiful country," Sarah said softly, looking over towards the man on her left who'd made the comment about her height. The man nodded, pride in his smile.
"Things are changing for the better in Costa Gravas," the man said happily, before the shorter one chimed in.
"The people don't know it yet, but Premier Goya is getting ready to announce free elections for his successor, next fall." The look Sarah saw in the man's eyes, the look of joy and excitement, made her smile.
"It's a brave new world out there," Sarah said as she looked ahead to the coast in the distance which grew closer every second.
"What you did was very brave," the man on Sarah's left said, shocking Sarah, who looked over at him. "Standing up against someone so powerful, it has inspired my people to demand more from our own government. So many people call you a killer or a monster, when they should be calling you a hero." Sarah looked away, shocked and flattered by his words.
"Trust me, I'm no hero," Sarah said quickly.
"To the people of my country, that is exactly what you are." In the face of this man's words, Sarah didn't know what to say. Unable to form words, Sarah tearfully nodded appreciatively to the man, the smile on her face genuine.
"Thank you," Sarah managed to say after several moments. Looking ahead once again, Sarah was filled with saddened optimism that things would be better going forward, no matter what life had in store for her. With friends by her side, Sarah was going to build a real life for herself, one filled with love and joy, instead of misery and guilt. Since the day she'd left home with her father, Sarah had been wandering in the wilderness, desperately searching for a way home. Looking at the approaching lights of Miami, Sarah Walker found herself arriving at a new world, just as so many others had so long ago. With a heart swelling from nervous excitement for the future, Sarah Walker knew in her heart that she had finally completed her twenty-year journey. Battered and scared as Sarah's heart was, she had finally made it back home.
CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #4: The Enforcer is dead, consigned to the briny deep, hopefully to be forgotten forever. The road ahead for Sarah Walker is unclear, but she knows where she'll begin her long journey. I know many of you have wanted more charah in this story, but as I was writing, it just felt weird to shoehorn it in when the story didn't naturally give me opportunities for it. I've left hints here and there, inklings of the growing connection between Chuck and Sarah, but having outright Charah fluff wouldn't have been tonally consistent.
CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #5: I really love how I wrapped up Sarah's arc in this story. She's completed her journey from the darkness to the light and now it's about moving forward. I wanted to leave everyone in a fairly realistic place after such an ordeal. Chuck and Molly are in therapy from the traumas the entire thing inflicted upon them. Sarah's been consumed by the D.C. circus, her entire life picked apart by the vultures in the press. You can imagine the scandal this thing would become if a shadowy death squad was discovered to be operating illegally in the CIA.
CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #6: Thanks to everyone who has favorited, followed, and left reviews on this story, all of you are wonderful. If you enjoy this story, leave a review and share your thoughts, I love reading them. We only have one more part to go, the epilogue to wrap this thing up. Christmas is coming up in only a few days, so tune in on Saturday, December 23rd for "The Monster You Made Me: Epilogue."
Until Next Time :D