A/N: Sorry a little bit later than usual. My partner has COVID...I feel like a ticking time bomb (how appropriate for this chapter lol.) All of Imported Hard Salami in one chapter, a bit long, but it flowed better as one rather than break it. The next episode is much more involved, as is more than one. Hopefully I stay upright to write it later this week. Fingers crossed.
If you count both real and fake break ups, Chuck and I broke up four separate times, actually five if you count the time I left him for two weeks when my memory was affected, although technically, we didn't break up then…Chuck just thought I had left him for good. That's another part of the story, but the only time of any of them that it was me doing the breaking. Of the four, two were fake and two were real, even though we were never officially together during any of it, as weird as that is.
Once we were together, we were together. We started dating for real in April of 2010. We moved in together after three months. Five months after that we were engaged and then in another four months we were married. Door to door…11 months. On the day we were married, however, I had been in love with him for almost four years, as he was with me.
It's easy to say that looking back. Nevertheless, at each bump, each problem, I was quick to conclude that however I thought he felt about me wasn't true, that I had misinterpreted it based on assumptions I had made. When Chuck fake broke up with me that first time, he still loved me. I know now that he did. He asked me what he asked me while we were dosed with truth serum because he did. My words and my actions directed him, gave him a reason to make his decisions. He wanted a real relationship, a normal desire for a man of 26. The fact that he had gone so long without one was the abnormal part. Perhaps in some way, our fake relationship gave him that boost of confidence he needed, so that he knew what Lou wanted when she was flirting with him, instead of dismissing it, thinking no one as beautiful as her could ever be interested in him.
He had no idea how badly he hurt me when he did that. None. In his defense, how would he know that? I told him there was nothing between us. My silence acted as confirmation of what he'd concluded–I was just doing my job, and I was very good at it. Normal people talk about their feelings with each other. That predicament forbade me from doing anything other than what I did. The repercussions of that silence caused everything else. It still hurt worse than anything I knew.
Chuck and I were, as his best friend once told him, crap communicators. One hundred percent accurate. I don't know where Morgan got all his wisdom, considering from what Chuck had explained, Morgan's home life was only slightly better than Chuck's when they were growing up. Normal people learned from watching other people…most often, their parents. Parents in a healthy relationship teach their children how to have healthy relationships. Start at zero, like I did, or maybe slightly above zero, like Chuck did, and the difficulties started. Ellie had Devon, who had grown up in a relatively normal home, and she worked hard to build that relationship with him into a healthy one as well.
My entire life I had spent hiding my feelings, pretending to be however I needed to be in the moment. There was no down time, no break from that. Every day of my life was that way, even when I wasn't working, even when I was with my so-called friends. I was barely aware of my own feelings, or what they meant. At 26 years old, I had never really known joy, or love, or even something as simple as happiness, as sad as that sounds. The first time I ever felt jealous was over Chuck. The first time I was ever nervous, it was to do with Chuck. The first time I was overcome with sorrow and heartbreak, it was because of Chuck.
Of course, the first time I was ever truly happy, full of joy, it was because of Chuck. He is the only person I have ever genuinely loved with all my heart and all my soul, not counting our children. But getting there from here…that was quite a journey. And the first step was us learning to communicate. He talked much more than I ever did, but he also was always very anxious about our relationship. He tried too hard to protect me sometimes, not telling me things that he thought would be too difficult for us to handle. My default setting was to act, not talk, but it often left him guessing. As much as we honestly loved each other and being together, becoming a good team took work. There is no fairy tale, no happily ever after. Life is hard…marriage is harder. Love just makes it all possible, and bearable.
As a couple in love, we still struggled with communication. We slowly learned how to talk to each other, a way to ensure the health of our relationship. It took time, and even after we were married, it wasn't all smooth sailing. Our relationship was the most important thing in my life, so I worked hard to keep it together. So did he.
In November of 2007, even if somehow the circumstances of the situation could be put aside, I had no idea how to talk to him, not like that. Add in the asset-handler dynamic…the only outcome after that situation with the truth serum was exactly what happened. Chuck would never have hurt me on purpose, ever, even here…had he known. He didn't. He couldn't read my mind, and expecting him to be able to…that's where communication breaks down. Once he knew everything, including how to read me like a book, he understood what had happened in the past. We chose to go forward and leave the past in the past. Part of that is walking that fine line…knowing he could almost read my mind, but never expecting him to know something I didn't tell him straight out. For someone like me, that was harder than it sounded.
In the present here, all I felt was pain…pain that had nowhere to go but deep into that hole in my chest, where I could hide it from myself. I went home to my hotel room that night in a daze. It was the first time in three months that Chuck was with someone other than his family, Morgan, or at work with either the Buy Morons or us. I tried to tell myself that it was just because now my job was more difficult…keeping him safe and under surveillance when he was potentially out with someone else we hadn't vetted. Factually, it was all relevant.
And yet, as I sat down in front of the camera to do my video log, so weary I stayed in my stupid hot dog uniform, I was a wreck. I basically used the log as a self-help session. I even forgot to add the "fake" to the break up announcement at first. In my heart, it felt real. Because I had been pretending it was real all along, though I had also been denying it to myself. I got ready for bed, but I didn't sleep. I didn't have the energy or the desire to use my vibrator, feeling like it was wrong somehow…knowing I would be thinking about him and he was now with someone else.
What had happened at the end of that little chat? Did he kiss her? Make plans with her for another night? It was worse than any torture I'd ever endured. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was his smile…directed at her while I stood on the sidewalk, suddenly invisible to him. I was still crazed with jealousy and desperately trying to rationalize myself to sleep. I convinced myself I would have to talk to him to change his mind. I don't know why, in the middle of the night, that sounded possible, but I convinced myself that it was.
I woke up, sort of, got dressed for my hot dog shift, and went straight to the Buy More, where Chuck was already working. I already looked like I hadn't slept a wink, which was good for the cover, I told myself. My hair was a mess and I had very little makeup on. Looking the part, I told myself…the heartbroken ex-girlfriend. It was closer to the truth than I was willing to admit.
I saw him the moment I walked in and motioned for him to meet me in the Home Theater Room. Once we were alone, I told him I didn't think the break up was a good idea.
"Miss me already, huh?" he said, teasing. I know he was just teasing, because he had no idea what I was feeling…but god, did that hurt. It almost took my breath away. I missed him. It burned like a bee sting inside my heart. It deflated the solid argument I had rehearsed all the way from my hotel to the plaza in my car. I tried, rather weakly, to convince him. He didn't budge.
I apologized to him, sorry that he thought there was something between us. I even said it was common in situations like this, to perceive a connection that wasn't really there. What did I know? I had never felt connected to anyone, not the people I had slept with, not even with my own father. Even as I said it, I knew, I had felt a connection to Chuck…and I was talking him down, like he was a child. He looked away from me, and when he looked back his facial expression had changed. He had pulled a bit inside himself, something I had never known him to do with me before. It was like grinding salt into that wound.
He was glib and dismissive, of course, because he saw a way out of the difficult situation I had placed us in. I looked down and away, that look on his face too painful to see. I was crisp in reply, telling him I had to sell it. Fake tears.
Some women, maybe even some men, can cry at the drop of a hat, but not me. I had spent my life learning to not feel, certainly not feel something deeply enough to be brought to tears over it. My fake crying was harder than it sounded, harder than I made it look. Deep down, part of it was real. Even actors, when called on to cry, have to summon sad thoughts from somewhere, immerse themselves in them to elicit those feelings. The thing here was those emotions, my fake emotions over my fake break up, were real. I made the face in front of him, which got a small reaction out of him, but when I was darting out of the store, the tears burning in my eyes were real. I ran, afraid Casey would see and think something worse than what he already thought.
I went to work. I almost burned myself twice on the deep fryer and I know I got a few orders wrong. My mind was not on hot dogs…my mind was on Chuck. I worked hard to keep my back to the window where I would have seen across the parking lot into Lou's. Casey let me know Chuck had a date with Lou that evening. I was anticipating seeing him in her deli, picking her up, waiting for her. I didn't want to see it. Casey also told me in that same conversation that we had a meeting with Beckman after our shifts, so I got changed and headed to his apartment. I made sure no one saw me, like Ellie or Devon, not sure how Chuck had explained what was going on with us.
Casey, in his usual charming way, told Beckman Chuck dumped me. He never minced words…and never missed an opportunity to twist the knife whenever he could. She was livid, or as close to livid as I had seen her. She thought it was highly suspicious that someone wanted to date Chuck, still believing that original CIA profile, since she knew little else of him. I gave a phony line about us agreeing for him to date a civilian–no one, including Beckman, bought it, but it was better than saying Chuck had asked me if there was something between us. Beckman wanted everything there was to know about Lou…before she got too close.
I had a feeling she was already closer than anyone knew.
After another fitful night of barely sleeping, Casey called me early in the morning to say we had another briefing. Turns out while Chuck was on his date with Lou, he flashed on something he had seen in her deli. Beckman gave us all the details about Lou's ex-boyfriend, whose father was a shipping magnate. They had intel that a dangerous shipment was on its way to the U.S. and they were somehow involved. Beckman wanted Chuck to get close to try and find out what and why.
He balked at the idea, saying he couldn't get close to his "girlfriend's" ex-boyfriend. His use of that word, so quickly, after what seemed like two dates, shocked me, but I gulped it down like bad tasting medicine. Chuck was not a casual date kind of guy. I knew that about him. He was interested in her…so he was with her. He was even trying to protect her, as the meeting went on.
Casey suggested a date at the club owned by said ex-boyfriend. Chuck wasn't happy about it, but he agreed. I left to go work at Wienerlicious and Chuck and Casey went to the Buy More.
Around lunch, I was alone in the restaurant when one of Chuck's Buy More co-workers, Lester Patel, showed up. Technically, Chuck was his supervisor, as he worked in the Nerd Herd. For some reason, Lester never wore his pocket protector with his name badge like the others did, even though it was required. I called him Larry, as this was the first time I had ever had a direct conversation with him at all.
To be fair, as far as any of them knew until what is now referred to as the Flu Bus incident, I was Chuck's girlfriend, and later, wife. I think the entire lot of them…Tang, Jeff, Lester, Big Mike, Emmett, Fernando and Skip…maybe once or twice in five years did any of them actually call me by my name. I was Blondie…or Chuck's Blondie…or the whorey blonde. The whole lot of them just gave me the creeps, but Chuck was used to them and their antics. He always defended their work, saying how good at their jobs they really were…when they felt like working. I didn't feel that bad that I got his name wrong.
He was immediately creepy, of course. A little too suggestively, he tried to be understanding, then asked me out in the next breath. I always thought that was some kind of bro code or whatever Chuck and Morgan call it…a guy wasn't supposed to date someone his friend had dated. Lester wasn't really a close friend, maybe just a work friend, but it was still weird.
I was feeling a little…off…I guess is a good word. This guy had been ogling me every day for two months when I was in that store and I was tired of it. My ability to read people was still as sharp as ever. He was all show, no go. I decided scaring him off was the best way to end that. I jumped up on the counter and pretended to be very aggressive with him. I wrapped my legs around him and tried to kiss him. He totally freaked out and practically ran out of there, never to look at me the wrong way again, at least not to my face.
I was charged up from that encounter when I saw Lou passing by the restaurant. I called out to her. She was very leery of me, not to say I blame her. It was a little forward of me, but I wanted to say my peace with her. I told her Chuck was a great guy. I surprised myself with those words, knowing I had always believed that, just never putting it to words before. I was unnecessarily sharp, and she was trying to be nice, but it was awkward. I told her, not asked, I told her not to hurt him. I was still protecting him, the only way that I could.
Losing Jill had sidelined him for years, I knew. I was worried about what she could do, how he would deal if something went wrong. It was a crazy thing to say, especially from me, who had probably hurt him in the time we were fake dating as well, if he had felt something was there beneath the cover and I'd had to deny it.
When we were done working, Chuck came to Casey's apartment to get ready for his date with Lou, where he would be doing spy work. He came already dressed…in a blazer over a t-shirt. I noticed right away, it was dressier than he had ever looked when he had gone out with me, but we had never gone to a club or a fancy party. I felt that jealousy flare, but I forced it down, pulling myself back to neutral, or at least as close to neutral as I could get. I gave him his mini-mic, which was in a very ugly and outdated pin, all we had available, and his earwig.
Casey handed Chuck a red rose. I had no idea what that was for, if he had hidden something additional in the flower. I was fidgeting in the background, pulling on the pendant on the chain around my neck as I listened. Chuck made a wisecrack; Casey made one back, implying he was helping Chuck to score with his date. My stomach clenched when I heard that. Good old Casey once again.
Chuck went to pick Lou up in his Nerd Herder. Casey and I were staked out in a van outside the club. I felt awkward listening to him, since it was a real date, not just a spy mission. I watched them run across the street and to the entrance of the club. He was holding her hand.
I could tell by his voice he was nervous. She could barely hear him at all, the music was so loud in the club. She asked him to dance. He gave her a line very similar to the one he had given me when I had pulled him onto the dance floor on our first date, after I'd spotted the NSA agents. The weird nostalgia made me feel wistful. Right after that, Stavros was on the microphone. He had found them very quickly, it seemed. It was strange. Was he stalking her or something? I wondered.
Lou tried to excuse them quickly, but Stavros offered to buy them a drink. Casey told Chuck to accept. I can only imagine that causing a problem. Things started to get tense between Chuck and Lou pretty quickly. Stavros was disgusting and disrespectful, which made it even worse for Chuck to have to stay there and listen to that, when I know normal, non-spying Chuck would have left the minute her ex-boyfriend started talking like that to her, in front of her new boyfriend no less. Stavros got handsy with Chuck. I told Casey I thought I should go in.
Casey was munching on a sandwich, but in between bites, he felt the need to point out my habit of falling for guys I worked with. Really? He didn't know about anything…other than Bryce. One guy, and Bryce was a mistake, which I told Casey. I was very clear to say I didn't fall for Chuck. Casey scoffed at that, sarcastically pointing out that he wasn't interested either. I really didn't believe what I said to him, but I had to deny it, especially after all the evidence he had that I might be compromised.
Stavros' comments became more threatening. I ripped off my headset and told Casey I was going in. He protested, but he didn't stop me. He actually didn't put his sandwich down before he could stop me, but that's neither here nor there. I barged into the club, crashing Chuck's real date.
Fortunately for me, my looks got me straight into the club, for the line to get in was queued down the sidewalk. I'm tall for a woman, and even taller in high heels. I was about six inches taller than almost everyone I was standing around after I walked inside, which gave me a good view, but also made me stand out like a sore thumb. I'm sure Lou noticed me right away.
Did I intentionally sabotage Chuck's date? Intentionally? No. I didn't run into the club, touch his shoulder, and lean close to his ear because I was trying to end his date early. As much as I was hurting, I didn't want to hurt him any more than I thought I already had. Was there something else at work, something I wasn't even completely aware of that had taken control of me? Absolutely. The green monster again, the same one that had been whispering in my ear when I chose that sheer purple nightgown, was drawing me to him, when I should have just left him alone. I wasn't cognizant of that, however, until the next day.
Chuck told me to leave, and I did. But Lou took off on him too, and another flash and spy work stopped him from being able to go after her. He had moved past security and they wouldn't let him back in; thinking quickly, he threw his microphone pin into the tray of drinks headed back for Stavros' table, where his father was talking to him. We got the information we needed, or so we thought, anyway. After that, I saw Lou jump into a cab just as Chuck ran out to try and stop her. We pulled up with the van.
I told Chuck we succeeded. Mission accomplished. Casey asked him how his date was.
He was sarcastic when he replied, through gritted teeth, "Is it me, or does our government never want me to have sex again?"
I choked on my saliva, barely swallowing it down, when I heard him say that. More pictures in my head that I never wanted to think about. Pictures that stayed behind my eyelids when I closed my eyes, preventing me from sleeping. At this point, I was chronically sleep-deprived.
I saw him the next day in the Buy More. I came to apologize for ruining his date. I truly felt horrible. I had warned her not to hurt him…but it seemed I had done so instead, and I hated it. I hated the whole situation…but nothing was going to go away, so I forced those feelings down and tried instead to just be better.
"Well, it's hard to have a real relationship in this line of work," I told him. That was the stark truth.
"Apparently, it's hard to have a fake one, as well," he said with a sigh. He pressed his lips together, a wordless apology of sorts…for what, I wasn't sure.
"Well, if it's any consolation, I never felt like our time together was work," I said. That was probably the most honest thing I'd said to him since the beginning. There was something in his eyes when I was looking at him that pulled me in, made me feel comfortable enough in that moment to tell him that. I turned away quickly, before I had to look at his face and how he reacted to my words. I left by telling him I had found out Lou's favorite flower. My peace offering…my surrender.
Later that afternoon, Casey and I reported to the pier where the shipment Stavros and his father had been discussing at the club the night before was due to arrive. LAPD was originally in charge of the scene, but the FBI as well as the bomb squad were called as well. There were about 20 people on the scene when we breached the shipping container. We had to do a lot of waiting around while they used blow torches to open the container.
The lieutenant in charge of the bomb squad called us over when the container had been opened. Inside the container, all that was there was a video camera, actively recording. The tip was compromised, and they had both Casey and my face on camera before the video feed was disabled. Casey and I were at the pier for over 12 hours, dealing with the bomb squad and the FBI. Endless interviews, debriefing, and reports to be filed. There were always endless hours of processing after any mission that we worked on. We also combed through surveillance footage of the dock area, searching for clues. Shockingly, Lou showed up on the footage, time stamped after she left the club in the cab, with Stavros. Casey thought it was a very real possibility that the tip was compromised because of her.
We went to Chuck's apartment first thing in the morning, after another sleepless night spent working. Chuck was mooning in the bathroom mirror, which made me think he had patched things up with Lou, maybe even seen her again. We had to show Chuck the information we had found out.
Chuck got snippy when we accused her. He made a comment, seemingly accusing us of making things up to keep him from dating. He even said it was beneath me, like I was intentionally interfering with his relationship. That really irritated me. Maybe that had been true before, but I had apologized. These pictures didn't lie. I felt almost triumphant presenting those to him, wiping that smug look off his face. I felt awful afterward, because I knew he was upset. He made excuses, of course, not willing to believe it. We left without any more words.
I went back to the hotel, exhausted just enough to get a few hours of sleep before we had to take Chuck on a stake out, as Lou was due to meet Stavros. Chuck was still in denial…until she showed up, right as we had expected.
Casey got snarky again. Chuck snapped back at him, and then charged out of our car to confront her. I tried to get him to stop, but he was already out of the car and running. Casey grabbed me, telling me they had our faces on tape, that they could ID us. I was irritated, but he was right. I stayed in the car with Casey.
Chuck confronted Lou after Stavros walked away. We heard it all on the surveillance feed. It turned out Lou was meeting Stavros because he was procuring illegally smuggled deli meat, apparently imports that were often spoiled while waiting to clear customs. I know Chuck suspected worse, and his behavior made him seem crazy, potentially stalker-like. The discussion crackled and fizzled out on my earwig, and then the line was broken. (It turned out Chuck had dropped his watch into a stray glass of iced coffee because he was afraid Lou was incriminating herself on tape…but I didn't know that.) I gave up waiting and told Casey I was going in. He argued again, but I insisted.
I approached the same way Chuck had snuck up on Lou and Stavros. I emerged from the door with my gun drawn just as Lou was walking away. She never saw me. I asked Chuck what had happened. He was frustrated, and he gave me this almost angry look, like he blamed me for what had happened. Deli meat or not, his predicament had nothing to do with me personally, and it irritated me. He did say he blew it, but the accusatory tone was still directed at me. I never got a chance to answer him.
Great spy that I was, I allowed myself to be completely distracted by Chuck, and his attitude towards me, and I completely missed Stavros and his henchman approaching from behind us. I actually startled when I heard his voice, something that almost never happened to me. They had us both at gunpoint.
Stavros' man handcuffed us both. He forced Chuck into the trunk of Stavros' vehicle. Then he pushed me inside as well. Without my hands for balance, I fell awkwardly into the small space. Stavros adjusted my legs before he shut the lid of the trunk.
The environment was impossible to ignore. The vehicle was a regular sedan and the trunk was small. Chuck was very tall, folded almost in half in such a tiny place. I am also taller than average, so we were really squashed together. There was no space between us at all. My back was against his chest, my legs against his legs. I could feel his breath against the back of my neck. My anger and irritation worked to at least distract me from the closeness of him, at least a little bit.
He was angry as well, angry that I had come charging in, when he said he had the situation under control. He didn't, obviously, completely forgetting that Stavros was there and soon to return to the area where we were. My movement was a mistake as well, but losing contact with Chuck could have led to him being taken without a clue left for Casey. My biggest mistake was letting Chuck distract me from my job, which he seemed to be able to do better than anyone or anything I had ever contended with.
It was obviously dark in the trunk, the only light we could see the ominous red of the tail lights casting an eerie glow. The conversation between us was tense and angry. He snapped at me, saying he assumed I had a plan. I told him Casey would be tracking us via his watch. He told me he had taken off his watch and shorted it out, explaining the crackle I'd heard. I rolled over to face him, furious that he had now put us both in danger with his foolishness and inexperience. I realized after I had turned that I was too close to him, our faces just inches apart. It was as close to him as I'd ever allowed myself to get. I felt his breath on my face…when he told me he had only done that to protect Lou.
Too close…and my jealousy boiled to the surface with my anger. He called me out on it, which only served to infuriate me even more. He really thought the CIA cared about her contraband salami? He brought up Bryce, his lips very close to me, his eyes on fire in the dark. I couldn't help it and I lost control of myself, calling him jealous of Bryce for saying that. I was not in my right frame of mind; even now, that's one of those things I look back on and can't believe that I actually said. His reply went through me like a dagger.
"Me? Jealous of you and Bryce? Never." His voice dripped with acid. His lips were pursed and his nostrils flared. I could feel his hot, angry breath on my face. I hissed at him, then rolled away in a huff.
Usually in situations like that, it's wise to keep track of the vehicle. Counting turns and which direction, counting time while the car was moving and when it was stopped. It helped to ascertain a location if and when an escape route became available. Chuck had completely distracted me from that. I had no idea how long we had been in the car or where we could possibly be. Eventually, the car stopped.
We were dragged out of the trunk. The twilight of the day had faded all the way to darkness, which meant we were at least 45 minutes from where we had been. We were back at the pier Casey and I had been at earlier, only a different part. We were dragged inside one of the warehouses and tied to chairs. It was Yari, Stavros' father, who was in charge here. He had a group of henchmen there along with his son. They started questioning us.
I tried to motion to Chuck with my eyes, telling him to stay quiet. I wasn't really sure how he would stand up to a threatening series of questions. I knew he had not blown his cover when he had been threatened by Malena, but I wanted to make sure. He started blabbing, saying he would talk. I shouted at him to stop, but he brought up the salami again.
Yari threatened to torture me. He had a power drill in his hand. He turned it on and held it dangerously close to my head. I wasn't really afraid at that moment, but I was trying to prepare myself for the pain. That was part of how we were taught at the Farm…become one with the pain, so it couldn't control you. If he actually planned on drilling a hole into my skull, it was less torture and just death. His goal was to get Chuck to talk. He had become the poster child for spies without emotional attachments…this was the first time. Even someone like Yari, who had barely seen us interact and had no idea of our relationship to each other, knew threatening me was the way to get Chuck to talk.
Fortunately for me, Chuck flashed on something right before the drill was about to touch my face. It stopped the henchmen, and actually got them fighting amongst themselves. Chuck just blurted it out, hoping to stop them anyway he could. I was able to pull a knife from my sleeve while they were distracted, and I started cutting the rope that bound my hands. One pointed a gun at the other, and then Yari killed the one with the gun. Then another henchman interrupted with news about the dangerous shipment due to expire soon. Chuck flashed again, telling me, erroneously, that he thought there was a bomb or a chemical weapon in the package.
That brief reprieve, only a few minutes, was just what we needed. Casey had found us despite Chuck's inadvertent sabotage. I saw him approaching just as one of the henchmen Yari had ordered to kill us had his gun to my head. I was free…and I pounced. I kicked the gunman away, then kicked Chuck's chair away as hard as I could. I dove after Chuck, covering him from gunfire while I worked to free his bindings.
Casey came rolling in, firing his gun, and saying he would hold down the fort while we went to find the bomb. We ran out of the warehouse; Chuck lagged a bit behind while he was undoing the ropes on his wrists. I told him to go, get away from the area. He refused. I stopped running and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from running as well. I told him to stay away from a live bomb. He threw the Intersect in my face, telling me I didn't know how to defuse one without it. In a very basic way, he was right. My bomb defusing skills were rudimentary at best. But he ran towards the bomb instead of away, so I had to follow him.
It took him a while, but eventually he found the right location. There was an enormous wooden crate, about eight feet high, ten feet long, and six feet deep. The sight of it seemed to make him freeze. I quickly looked around and saw two crowbars on a rack. I grabbed one and tossed one to him, asking him to help me. Together, we pried the front of the crate off, to reveal a long gray, metallic cylinder that had a timer on it, counting down in flashing red numbers. There was a minute left by the time we saw it.
I went straight to the panel and pulled it apart, to see if I could discern which, if any, wires I could disconnect. I asked Chuck if he flashed, but he didn't. He started freaking out. I told him to go, that I would stay and try to defuse it. There was nothing else I could do at that point.
"No, I'm not leaving you here," he said defiantly. Not the same refusal as before. My senses were on overdrive, and my mind was racing, but those words, spoken that way, still registered.
I ordered him away, inexplicably angry. Why was it about me? I was no damsel in distress. And I didn't…matter to him, did I?
Strange what your mind will churn up when death is ticking at your ear.
He refused again, petulantly, like a spoiled child. All of my ability to rationalize was gone. I pulled my gun on him. He called me on the stupidity of that…shooting him so he wouldn't be blown up.
"Why are you so stubborn?" I hissed at him.
"Actually, I consider this a rare moment of courage. I don't know where it's coming from. I guess you just bring out the worst in me," he snapped. I tucked my gun away, realizing how stupid I was being. I hated that he said that. Did he honestly think that?
I took a threatening step towards him. "And you in me," I said hotly. Lie, I told myself. The exact opposite. He brought out the best in me, but I couldn't say those words, not while I was so angry.
The beeping of the timer, ticking away with ten seconds left, distracted us from our stupid argument.
"It was nice knowing you," he said, his breath heavy, but surprisingly calm, calmer than I thought he would be, facing death like that. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
Just a few days before this, Chuck had told me about his life flashing, or not flashing, before his eyes when we thought we were dying from poison. The same thing happened to me at that moment. What he had explained was almost the same for me. I had never been closer to death than eight seconds before a bomb was due to incinerate me. It wasn't my life in retrospect…it was a dark void of regrets, all my wishes and hopes never to be achieved.
Argument…whywasIarguingwithChuckwewereabouttodieIdidn'tcareaboutmebutwhatabouthimhowcouldIllethimdieandnotknowhowhemademefeel…howcouldIdiewithoutevenknowingwhatitfeltliketokisshim…Kiss…him…
Four seconds left. I stood on my tip toes, grabbed his face in my hands, and I kissed him.
I know I surprised the hell out of him, because he didn't respond right away. It took him a second, I think to realize what I had done, since his eyes were closed. I could feel his lips tremble ever so slightly, caused by his ragged breathing. But he pursed his lips and kissed me back, frozen and stiff melting to soft and supple.
I reached behind his head and grabbed a fistful of his shirt to hold myself up, stretching as I was to reach his mouth. I felt his arms reach around me, lifting me up off my feet to ease the strain, and crushing me against him.
He kissed me…well, like it was the last thing he was ever going to do on Earth.
There's a famous science fiction book from the 1960s, controversial in its time, called A Stranger in a Strange Land. About a man from Mars who comes to Earth. I remember a vivid description of how the man, Michael, would kiss women and they would faint because he was 100% focused on what he was doing, never allowing himself to become distracted. I sort of subconsciously equate that story to this in my mind. That kiss certainly qualified. I can't describe it other than to say…imagine how it would feel to be kissed by someone who thought they only had ten seconds left to live?
I had been dreaming about the way he tasted. I would continue those dreams after this evening, but forever after this moment the dream was vivid enough that I could taste him again. He was passionate, hungry, his tongue soft and hesitant until I opened my mouth and invited him in. No one had ever kissed me like that, no one had even come close. I had never kissed anyone the way I kissed him back, once we were both so engaged.
Time stopped moving forward. I forgot about the bomb, our impending death, maybe even my own name. My legs shook and almost gave out. Had I died? Had the bomb already exploded…and I was in some other place? Was this heaven?
I couldn't imagine heaven being any better than where I was…how I felt…right then and there.
Sometime…later…seconds or hours or…longer than four seconds anyway, he pulled away slightly to take a breath. It was like crashing back down to earth after soaring on wings you never knew you possessed. We stopped, almost at the same time. I pulled my lips away…reluctantly. I opened my eyes…to see him looking at me.
He was gasping for air, shaking. He was shocked, absolutely bamboozled. But the way he was looking at me…the emotion that radiated from his eyes…was like magnetism, holding us together. I let go of his shirt and settled back on flat feet. We both looked at the timer, set at all zeros…and nothing had happened.
I didn't realize how breathless I was, still, until I tried to talk. "Well, the good news is, we're alive," I gasped. He looked away. "And the bad news is that this is kind of an uncomfortable moment right now," I added, feeling the joy and the regret battling for dominance inside me.
My god, what did I just do? I screamed inside my head.
His chest was heaving as well, but he answered, looking down at me through his eyelashes, "It's completely comfortable on my end. Just saying."
Everything inside me felt like it had liquified, a familiar sensation yet a thousand times more intense than at any other time. He only said what he was feeling, I know. Whatever I had convinced myself about Lou and how he felt…I knew what he'd done. He wanted me, not her. Everything was a complete disaster now, as the walls of the warehouse started to feel like they were closing around me…but he was mine again, even for just those few seconds when he'd kissed me. Pushing that feeling back down inside me was like trying to push a balloon under the water's surface.
I don't know how long we stayed like that, barely breathing, inches from each other. It was Casey, running in with the tactical team, that broke the spell. I don't know where he was in that formation, or what he saw when he entered that space. I do know we moved away from each other like we had been caught doing something we shouldn't have. Chuck moved as far away from me in that crowd as he could.
More of the same with scene processing. Reports, debriefings, all of that. It took almost all the rest of the night. They ended up calling the bomb squad again. Standard procedure for when a device seems defunct or defective. It was after sunrise when the CIA released Chuck from the scene. I stayed near Casey and I didn't even see Chuck leave. I was afraid if Casey saw me interacting with him, he would know something had happened, something that I didn't want to explain.
I stayed while the bomb squad analyzed the device. They brought in explosive sniffing canines and deployed robots. They scanned the device again and again until they were sure it didn't pose a threat. While they were working, Casey explained what had happened while Chuck and I were with the bomb. Everyone but Stavros was dead, and Stavros was poorly informed about what was going on, in the grand scheme of things. Casey had seen a sniper take out Yari, later telling me whoever killed him was almost certainly the intended recipient of the package.
It was the same lieutenant from the day before who gave the all clear. They had determined the device was not lethal. It wasn't even a bomb. The timer was measuring an oxygen supply.
Which meant something alive was inside the metal container. It seemed strange, considering the timer had ticked down to zero hours before it was opened. I was anticipating us to find whatever was inside to be dead. It turned out there was a back up oxygen supply, an additional ten hours in storage provided as a buffer when the package was assembled. We found out that assemblage had been done in Finland.
Their analysis done, the team moved away as they motioned for the unit to be opened. I had an awful feeling of foreboding as I walked up to it as it was hissing open. There was a mist, like dry ice sublimation, that obscured our view for a few seconds as we approached. When the mist cleared, I finally saw what…no, who, was inside.
I felt like the floor beneath my feet had tilted, shifted, like I had been standing on a fault line during an earthquake.
It was Bryce Larkin, alive and breathing, almost two months to the day Graham told me he was dead.
Complicated just became much, much, more complicated.
