"Hello, Agent Walker," Graham greeted me, his voice deep and rumbling, almost hissing, reminding me of how a snake might sound if one could talk. He sounded irritated and impatient. It took a few moments for me to understand that my presence was suddenly the reprieve from that, and it had been Bryce getting under Graham's skin.
I masked my shock at seeing Bryce again well, keeping my face stoic and my voice even. "You wanted to see me, Sir?"
"To be honest, I'm surprised Agent Larkin made it back to D.C. before you…considering you left Lisbon before he did," Graham said, a thinly veiled suspicion in his voice.
I didn't tell him so, but I was surprised too. Did he take the supersonic jet? Or just not sleep all night so he could go straight from the airport to report here? My mind started racing, concocting hundreds of different possibilities and motivations for his sudden appearance and his need to beat me here.
Bryce turned and smiled at me, glancing back to Graham, smiling like a used car salesman. "What can I say? I couldn't wait to tell our Director here about how successful that mission was…thanks to all your help."
"We knew there was a leak, coming from the inside. Temmer was just the tip of the iceberg. You not only kept all of that data from falling into the hands of the North Koreans, but you managed to stop the leak and save the hostages. I don't need to tell you, keeping that information out of the hands of the North Koreans was a top priority of this administration. The president himself noticed," Graham said. His tone didn't match the words he said, not at all, although I wasn't sure he even noticed. He wasn't proud, or even congratulatory. He still sounded irritated. It was so odd, but I kept my poker face and ignored it.
"As you may or may not know, Agent Larkin's partner was recently killed. Thanks to the success of your mission with Agent Larkin, the president himself suggested the…association…between you two become permanent. You and Larkin…as partners. Stationed in Mexico. Bryce and Sarah Anderson," he added, sounding like he was apologizing to me rather than merely explaining.
"Our cover is a married couple?" I asked. I had literally a thousand questions, but that one made it to my lips first.
Bryce flashed a quick wink, so quick Graham missed it, and then smiled that movie star smile that I struggled to keep from affecting me in front of Graham. "Surprise," he said quietly, still smirking. "I sort of already established that cover…turns out, we're running with it."
"You and Agent Larkin leave for Mexico City in three weeks," Graham added flatly. "You have some leave saved up, don't you, Agent Walker?" he asked.
I nodded, wondering why it mattered at all to him. Was he trying to send me on one last assassination first? Some other mission that he needed done before I was out of his direct influence?
"I suggest you make use of it. The mission the CIA is sending you two on is long-term…and involved. You could use a little R and R. The both of you," he added, tilting his head towards Bryce.
I was even more dumbfounded, but I kept my wits about me, and stayed neutral. Now Graham was insisting I take a vacation. He had always been diametrically opposed to me having time off, though it was an actual benefit of my job and something he legally couldn't deny me if I'd asked. I think he knew if he left me with long bouts of inactivity that my resolve would falter. Too much time to sit around and think about what he was having me do. He never came right out and denied requested time off–no, that would have been too obvious for him. He was a master manipulator. Truth be told, I didn't want to take it any more than he didn't want me to take it, all for the same reason. Working kept me occupied, ignorantly oblivious to the damage the work was doing to me, each moment I sat alone and thought making it more real to me, hence something I worked to avoid.
He dismissed us just like that. I couldn't shake the feeling that he was irritated somehow…that Bryce and I becoming partners was the last thing he wanted, but something he hadn't been able to maneuver in his favor. I was still sort of walking around in a daze, slowly making my way out of the building, wondering what I was going to do with three weeks of leave.
I heard hurrying footsteps behind me, the sound of shoes clicking rapidly on the gleaming tile floor. By the time I turned, Bryce was beside me in the corridor, panting as he had obviously hustled to catch up to me. "Where's the fire, Walker?" he teased.
"I could say the same to you. Did you teleport here from Portugal?" I countered, still keeping my brisk gait.
"No, I took the red eye," he explained. "I'm beyond jet-lagged."
"You were racing back here to set this all up, weren't you?" I accused.
"Whatever do you mean, Agent Walker?" he asked, with mock indignation. At my glare, he added, "I just wanted to make sure Graham heard the whole story first-hand. Results are undeniable. We made a good team."
"You pushed for this…partnership, didn't you? What if I wanted something else?" I asked sharply.
"Do you?" he asked, stopping his forward motion and grabbing my arm to hold me from walking as well. It wasn't rhetorical. He really wanted to know what I wanted. I hated to admit it, but the idea of being his partner was more appealing than any other potential I had before me. I think it just irked me because I knew he had manipulated it…one more thing in my life that happened outside of my own ability to decide for myself. I learned later, as time went by, that Bryce's initial motivation for it had been to save me, the same way he had already saved Chuck, by working out of sight and engineering the outcome for what he thought was best. He did save me by doing what he did–forcing Graham's hand and promoting our partnership, forever after protecting me from the assassination missions that had become my only work since leaving the CAT squad.
"No," I answered sincerely, looking into his eyes and holding his gaze. "We are a good team," I said softly, smiling ever so slightly.
He visibly relaxed at that point, his gait becoming more casual as we walked together. "So…any plans for your leave?" he asked, cutting to the chase.
I didn't want to come right out and tell him I was almost frightened to have that much time on my hands without plans. So I countered, "It sounds like you do, though."
"Cabo," he said, sighing blissfully. "Come with me," he coaxed hopefully.
I could only look at him questioningly.
"Sun…sand…relaxing by the ocean with a tropical drink in your hand…sounds delightful, doesn't it?" he sighed.
It sounded like a dream…something I had never imagined I could ever have for myself at all. Did he see some vague shadow of longing in my eyes? I'm pretty sure he did, because he leaned close to me, and whispered suggestively in my ear, "We can practice…for the cover. You know…newlyweds…on their honeymoon…"
I know I blushed, because I felt the heat from my cheeks radiating towards my eyes. "Sounds nice," I replied, the sexy lilt of my voice unmistakable, though it happened almost without me consciously doing it. And just like that…I was spending my leave on vacation…with my partner. With my boyfriend, technically, although I didn't think of him like that before we went. I did, however, think of him like that once we left Cabo.
It is very important here for me to talk about Chuck again. Mostly because this part is so hard for me to talk about when I know he has the potential to hear it. As I have stated before, almost when I started telling this story, Chuck knows all of this already. He's not learning anything new when he hears me say these things. Even knowing all of that, the specifics of me and my experiences with other men…I never got that specific with him. It was easier for me to tell him about Sam…because he never knew Sam. All Chuck knew of him was what I told him…and he's been dead for 20 years. Chuck knew Bryce. They were close friends.
Chuck had been a sometimes accidental and always unwilling witness to Bryce with girls while they were in college. The whole sock on the doorknob…the clue for Chuck to know Bryce was having sex in their room and he needed to find someplace else to hang out. Drunken nights, fraternity pranks, and impatience had all caused incidents where Chuck had seen more than he had ever wanted to know about…heard enough that he never wanted to ever hear again. It was too vivid…and somehow adding me to that imagined picture was just horrific enough that it was akin to torture.
I think part of it was the misconception that Chuck had about Bryce and me when Chuck and I were just cover dating. It was always such a complicated dance during that time…keeping my feelings for Chuck hidden to protect him and the cover, fighting those feelings when they compromised my ability to do my job, all the while being bombarded by Chuck's feelings for me that he almost never tried to hide from anyone. I intentionally downplayed my involvement with Bryce when Chuck asked, then to be later exposed when Carina blurted it out to Chuck. Chuck showed up at my hotel room one night to find Bryce there with me, staying in my room with me. Chuck asked me to go away with him right before his sister was supposed to get married, and I turned him down because I was due to leave with Bryce in the morning.
Once, Chuck even just came out and told me that he felt he would always just come in second to Bryce. By that point, I knew all the mixed feelings he had about Bryce. I was still doing that dance…trying to ease Chuck's concerns without giving too much away about how I really felt. I was never able to just tell Chuck the truth, the plain and honest truth. That Bryce had been my partner, we were together…and then we weren't. I thought he was dead, and he returned. He kissed me once…almost kissed me a second time. He left…and I stayed…because of Chuck. On the best day Bryce and I ever had, it was just a shadow, compared to the feelings I had for Chuck…feelings I had never acted on or even told him about. The one kiss Chuck and I had shared at that point meant more to me than the hundreds of times Bryce and I were intimate. Even after Bryce died, I still never explained all of this to Chuck. It was only once we were together, talking for days on end on the train from Paris to Switzerland, that he finally understood.
This elogy was meant for everyone to hear, and I know that Chuck told me that I shouldn't hold anything back, least of all to ease his sensibilities. But at the same time, I will never intentionally cause him pain or discomfort, and I know graphically describing what Bryce and I did is too much for him, so I've done my best to temper it. It is very similar to how I process the knowledge I have about him and Jill.
Chuck told me that Jill was his first. Before that, there was merely something he referred to as "getting to third base" with his Junior Prom date, something prompted by a little too much underage drinking and something he was not proud of, considering his date wasn't even his girlfriend. If that sounds a little incongruous, well, that's Chuck. It makes me sound like a prostitute in comparison, but not once, ever, did he ever make me feel that way, once he knew everything. He never judged me or my actions. Instead, he always found a way to understand, and then forgive. Even now, sometimes I wonder how he is even real, as he seems like a dream.
Getting back to Jill. There was an incident, about a year and a half after I met Chuck, where he reconnected with Jill and they started dating again. I knew generalities only at that point. When Chuck and Jill had sex again for the first time since they had reconnected, Casey and I were in Castle, decrypting a list of Fulcrum agents we had acquired from Jill's old boss, while still monitoring Chuck on surveillance. Jill covered the camera with her blouse and I turned down the audio, but Casey…well, John Casey, he was a constant thorn in both of our sides when it came to how Chuck and I felt about each other. He would be the perpetual rubber-in of salt to our wounds. Deep down, Casey knew how we felt and thought we were wasting time denying our feelings, but that was too emotional for Casey to ever admit to himself or anyone else, so he teased us instead. Sometimes they were harsher than others.
Like this time. He thought it would be fun to fiddle with the audio while we were working. I think later, once he understood the complete truth about Chuck and me, he regretted how harsh this ended up being, but here, he was just needling me. I had been jealous of the other girl Chuck had dated while we were protecting him, Lou Palone, the deli owner. But that was short-lived, and hadn't progressed beyond a couple of dates and a few passionate make-out sessions. Listening to Chuck and Jill like that…it went beyond jealousy. It made me sick, worse than any kind of torture I had ever endured at the hands of evil doers.
I got over it in the moment, but I carried that with me into our relationship. He had let it slip that she was aggressive, dominant when they were like that, and part of what I had heard in Castle confirmed that. I had to consciously force thoughts from my head in the beginning…wondering how much of what he did to me…touching me, kissing me…he did because he had learned from her, done what she had told him to do. It was a dark place to descend to…believing the pleasure I experienced was owed to the woman who had almost destroyed the man I loved before I had ever met him.
Fortunately, I also got over that quickly as well. It didn't take long for me to understand that Chuck was different. He didn't learn "moves" per se, he learned how to pay attention. Jill may have spent their time together bossing him around…because she didn't trust him. I know she didn't trust him. She kept Fulcrum a secret from him…she lied about Bryce to him…she believed that he was cheating in school even when he told her he hadn't. Left to his own devices, Chuck studied me like an electrical engineering text book. He had a 4.0 in electrical engineering. It didn't take him long to earn his 4.0 in me, if you will. I never had to say a word to him…other than his name, shrieked out loud in amazement at how easily he pleased me. Getting ahead of myself again.
Back to Bryce, though. He made the reservations and all the arrangements. We were meeting at the airport, but we were together after that, almost every day, until he disappeared in August of 2007. I realized I needed to go shopping, as I had no clothing appropriate for a tropical vacation. I had never been on an official vacation in my entire life, not even a quick trip to the beach when I was young. I did own a bathing suit, used for missions when I was with the CATs, but I wanted something new.
I know most women love shopping for clothes, but I always hated it. I didn't understand why until I was shopping for this trip, though. The CIA gave us a clothing stipend, considering we needed to dress for a variety of different occasions and scenarios…from formalwear to swimsuits and everything in between. Using that money to shop I had to think about my job and what each thing I bought would be used for…where I would go, who I would be sent to kill. Lots of black items…because blood didn't visibly stain it. Clothing for my off time was exercise clothing or pajamas, for as I already explained, I worked as much as the hours in the day permitted.
That entire day I spent shopping, all I was thinking about was the beach. And Bryce. I bought three bikinis and a matching sarong, plus a pair of flip flops. One was white, one was black, and one was a deep blue that matched my eyes. I tried them on, twisting in front of the long mirror in the dressing room, imagining Bryce's hands rubbing in sunblock on all of the exposed areas of my back. I bought a gauzy coverup and a sunhat for the beach as well. I bought four new dresses with a pair of shoes that matched all of them–sexy, tight dresses that hugged my curves and enhanced my cleavage–not to distract a mark, but to attract Bryce. A few skimpy tank tops and short-shorts…and lots of lingerie. I even thought I was being excessive, but I never was at anything I ever did, so I let myself go. The argument that I would only be wearing each piece for a short time didn't detract at all from how wearing each piece made me feel.
It was taking what the CIA had done to my body and my appearance to a new level. I was a seductress…maybe even beautiful…not because I needed to be for my job, but because I wanted to be…for someone else. Every piece of lingerie I purchased, I thought about how it would feel when Bryce saw me in it, how it would feel when he took it off me.
That whirlwind day of shopping was the happiest I could remember feeling in such a long time. I was excited to go on vacation and just relax. I was on the way to the airport when it finally occurred to me that the giddiness from shopping had distracted me from the other feelings I was having about Bryce. I hated examining my own feelings. It was much easier to bury them inside and pretend they didn't exist.
What was I feeling about Bryce? I was excited to go on vacation…because I was going to be with him. We were partners now…sort of like Sam and I had been while we were training. Sam and I had been friends first, and we started having sex. I had barely known Bryce at all, but we had sex almost right away. Our working relationship started and the sexual relationship followed. They grew together. It was the friendship with Bryce that was lagging this time. It never quite caught up, not in all the time we were together. I once told Chuck Bryce and I were never friends…and I was telling him the truth. It was a strange dynamic, caused primarily because we were spies.
Everything was a jumble inside me, and I couldn't sort it out. I eventually just told myself to put it out of my mind, and just enjoy the time for what it was. As an isolated block of time, with that plan in my head, those two weeks Bryce and I were in Cabo were the happiest of my life up to that point. We spent our days on the beach, sunbathing or swimming in the ocean. We would eat an elaborate dinner in a fancy restaurant and then spend the rest of the night in bed. We rented jet skis, we went snorkeling and scuba diving. We ate five course meals and then burned off the calories in bed, in the shower, on the beach in the moonlight.
It was perfect, wonderfully romantic. But there wasn't really any romance involved, not like that. We were having fun. He could make me smile and laugh, talk to me for hours without getting too personal and not caring that I barely said two words to him at the same time.
One night, we had a few too many drinks with dinner and I was tipsy. He was apparently used to drinking more than I was, so he was still perfectly sober. I wasn't drunk–I made sure of it, after the crazy time with Carina and my vow to myself, but I was just loosened up enough that I wasn't in perfect control. It only revealed itself while Bryce and I had sex that night, my usual silent heavy breathing replaced by noises he had never heard from me before.
When it was over, and we lay side by side, he said, out of breath, "It's nice to know you actually enjoy having sex with me."
"I thought that part was obvious," I replied as I too was catching my breath.
"You're very mysterious, Sarah. You always leave me guessing," he added, looking at me out of the corner of his eye without turning his head.
"I'm here, aren't I?" I countered. That jumble inside me twisted again, poking at me in different spots, making me question myself and everything else.
"This is the cover…or is it?" he asked. Such a strange way of asking where we actually stood. I didn't get it at first, but that was in fact what he was doing.
"We're on vacation. No cover necessary," I told him, smiling slightly in the darkness.
He turned on his side and reached for me, resting his hand on my stomach. It felt very intimate, more intimate even than anything we had done up to that point. "So are we doing this, then?" he asked gently.
"Doing what?" I asked, my mouth suddenly dry.
"Us. Under-under-cover," he explained.
Carina had never had a male partner, but if she had, I was sure that was what he was describing. We were pretending to be a married couple. Actually having sex and then pretending on the outside about everything else. Using each other for sex while we were working. It made me feel…empty…in a way I wasn't prepared for at that moment. But he elaborated.
"The CIA doesn't care what we do when we aren't working, so long as it doesn't affect our work. Kind of don't-ask, don't-tell, you know?" he expanded. "There are even real life married couples who work for the CIA. Us in a relationship wouldn't be the first time that's ever happened."
The word relationship scared the hell out of me, making me almost want to jump out of the bed. But as scary as that was, it was even scarier realizing that empty feeling had dissipated at the same time. "Relationship?" I parroted, keeping my voice neutral.
"You. Me. Together. A couple. That's what I mean," he said bluntly.
"That's not–"
He cut me off, probably sensing my trepidation in my voice. "I don't mean…like…like you think I mean." Serious, emotionally involved…whatever else flashed through my mind in my panic. "I mean us…exclusive. Working together and…being together. However that looks to you."
"Like…your girlfriend?" I asked.
"That sounds…I don't know…juvenile. I had a girlfriend when I was in college. I've had…relationships since then. No one…for a while. But you–"
I cut him off. "I've never had a boyfriend…or a relationship. Only sex. Like Carina I guess, when I hear myself say it."
"Is this just sex to you?" he asked me bluntly again, cutting to the center of that jumble inside me like scissors through tangled hair. He wasn't accusatory, only curious.
"No," I replied, the word spilling out before I had time to think, which was a revelation to me. This was different with him. It started with pleasure, the need for release…but it ended somewhere else…with his laughter breathy in my ear, his fingers tracing patterns on my skull under my hair. I mattered to him…as much as I was allowed to matter to anyone in the world I lived in.
I heard that laughter then, deep and sexy in his chest. He slid his hand from my stomach around my waist and pulled me close to him. It was a slow build up, because we had just finished, but we had sex again, the only time I ever remembered us doing that more than once in a night. It was different this time, and every time after. The alcohol and my tipsiness had worn off, but I let the noises come out, refusing to bite my lip to dampen the experience, or what he was perceiving. No more guessing. I let him know when it felt good, when I was satisfied, and understood for the first time that it was important to him to know, because how I felt mattered to him. I kept everything else guarded, but in those moments, I let it show. It worked for us, for a long time. Until he stopped trusting me. But that happened later.
We stayed in Cabo for two weeks. There was a selfie on my cell phone that Bryce took of us, cheek to cheek and smiling into the camera. That was the morning after we were officially together. I would look at that photo often, when I was troubled or stressed out. Even later, after I was sure he had betrayed me, I would look at it and wonder how I could have been so stupid, so naive to believe all of that. It hurt worse than it should have, considering the situation.
When we returned to D.C., right before we were to be given our assignment for Mexico City, we learned quite a bit. Graham had been promoted to Director of the CIA, a direct appointment by the president. Obviously a direct result of the work Bryce and I had done that made him look good. Our mission was still under his direct supervision, but he was busier and less involved than he could have been. Bryce and I had both decided to keep our personal relationship from Graham. Bryce wasn't all that concerned, but I worried that somehow if Graham knew, he would be even more opposed to us working together. Some sick, strange sense of possession he seemed to have concerning me. I didn't want to go back to being Graham's fixer.
Bryce and I were on the plane back to Mexico when we ended up seeing it on the news. North Korea admitted to possessing nuclear weapons capability. The world was shocked, or so the newscaster said, after all the work former President Clinton had done in Asia to keep this from coming to pass. Bryce and I were shocked as well, but for a different reason. We knew exactly where the information had come from. We had secured it, and yet somehow, North Korea had obtained it anyway. The only thing Bryce said to me: You were right not to tell Graham about us.
My trust in Graham had been questionable at best, but now it was gone. Bryce finally agreed with me. We would have to watch our backs, because apparently the only thing keeping us working together was the good favor of the president. Graham was all in for himself, and god help us if we got in his way.
