(no subject)
"I'm sorry but there's nothing more I can do."
She could read the frustration and maybe even the glimmer of sympathy on Director Paige's face. There was nothing he could do, Chris couldn't blame him for it and she didn't. That didn't make it any easier to hear.
"I understand, sir," Chris said softly, jaw clenched and her lips barely moved leaving the words to force their way out of her mouth. She was lucky, she supposed, that word about the mission had reached CTU. Lucky that Palmer had called in on her behalf even if it did rankle to accept his help, even is she didn't (and never would) ask.
"Yeah, well..." Paige's gaze traveled to his computer screen and he scratched his mustache absently and for a moment she remembered talking to Tony about something and watching him absently scratch his jaw as he spoke. It was so vivid.
"You can clean your stuff out today, Buchanan doesn't expect you at CTU-LA till tomorrow."
"All right." When he nodded she knew this meeting was over, Chris mumbled 'good-bye' and left.
Nearly seven years of faithful service -- even staying on the day her dad died, just to see the last vial secured, even coming back after she found out the truth about his death -- seven years of accolades and promotions all undone. CTU didn't fire people, like most government jobs it was difficult to be fired. No, CTU transferred people, suspended them and when the transgression was egregious enough - demoted them.
She'd just been bumped several rungs down the ladder.
"You can't tell me." There's a dry scoff but no humor in her brother's voice. "Are you kidding me?"
Chris watched the woman disappear behind her office door before she hissed, "It's classified."
The other end went silent, it stretches on for so long that Chris looked at her phone and wondered if the line had gone dead. Or maybe he'd hung up on her.
He hadn't. "Classified." A brief pause and she could almost imagine Ryan's face. "What the fuck are you doing? I thought you worked behind a desk!"
"Something came up," she said, clenching her jaw so hard she can hear the creak of bone and muscle as she does. The woman steps out of her office and gave a nod of her head towards the door down the hall. Chris followed, half-listening for her brother to speak again.
He did. "You're going to have do better than that. You disappear for days without telling anyone and won't tell me what happened?! Caiti had to cancel her vacation because you told her your plans had changed and she couldn't even get a refund for her tickets --"
Whatever he said next, she doesn't know, she stopped listening as soon as the door opened. The presence of the two women caused the dogs to become excited, barking and jumping. Some of the dogs growled and she heard the click of claws against the floor, reminding her of the smell of burnt flesh and the feel of cold mountain air.
"Miss?"
"Chris, are you listening to me?" Her brother's voice broke through her memories and Chris looked up at the woman, then away.
"I'll call you back, Ryan." She snapped the phone shut before he could protest.
"Sorry."
The woman nodded and walked down the row, Chris following though she felt lightheaded and out-of-breath.
"This your dog?" She pointed toward the black-and-tan chihuahua that hopped around in one of the top cages.
Chris sighed audibly, relieved to see Coco again. "Yes."
The woman didn't say anything, didn't move, simply nodded and wrote something down on her pad.
"... Can I take her home now?"
The woman looked up at Chris, her expression dispassionate. "After you abandoned her at the kennel she was turned over here --"
"I didn't abandon her! I left her at the kennel. I was out of the country and couldn't get back."
"You'll have to go through the adoption process again --"
"She's my dog!" This was a nightmare. If her sister was upset about the trip, she didn't want to know how Caiti would react if she lost the dog.
"We can talk about this in my office."
Slack-jawed and disbelieving, Chris just stared at her. Finally, she closed her mouth and straightened her posture, refusing to make a scene. "Fine. Let's talk."
It took a few hours for her to fall asleep. Even after running a few laps to burn off some of the nervous energy, Chris still felt restless both in body and mind. It didn't matter if her body felt fatigued, her mind ran with list of things she had to do (talk to Michelle) and memories she wanted to forget.
She had tried calling Michelle twice, both times she got a busy signal and was bumped to voicemail. Chris knew she could have stopped by the house to see how she was doing but she kept finding reasons to put it off till it was too later. She'd have to go tomorrow, after work.
Sleep came for a few hours, dreamless and fitful. She had forgotten to pick up sleeping pills and she wasn't used to being away from everyone. Alone.
As she slept, the door creaked open and she could hear crying --
"Xǐng!"
Chris was wide awake, heart pounding and frozen in the bed as she listened to the silence. Even when she realized where she was, that she was home and safe, the feeling of terror didn't dissipate. She turned on the light and leapt out of bed, going through the apartment quickly and checking all the locks on the doors and windows.
She didn't have her gun anymore and she hated that. She couldn't remember what had happened to it, she assumed the guards took it when she'd been captured and the only thing worse than how vulnerable she felt now without it was that it had been a gift from her father.
In lieu of that, she took a large butcher knife from the kitchen and one of the chairs from the dining room table. The chair went up against the door, right under the doorknob. The knife went on the night table, right in arm's reach.
She left the light on and curled into a fetal position on the bed, watching the door. This wasn't normal behavior, she knew that, but she decided she could allow this for tonight. Just so she could sleep. Tomorrow she could talk to someone. After... Her stomach turned as she thought about tomorrow, about seeing Michelle and all the ways that conversation could go.
Eventually, sleep came for her again and she slipped into the darkness. No dreams, just a flash of blue light and the spray of red blood.
She could read the frustration and maybe even the glimmer of sympathy on Director Paige's face. There was nothing he could do, Chris couldn't blame him for it and she didn't. That didn't make it any easier to hear.
"I understand, sir," Chris said softly, jaw clenched and her lips barely moved leaving the words to force their way out of her mouth. She was lucky, she supposed, that word about the mission had reached CTU. Lucky that Palmer had called in on her behalf even if it did rankle to accept his help, even is she didn't (and never would) ask.
"Yeah, well..." Paige's gaze traveled to his computer screen and he scratched his mustache absently and for a moment she remembered talking to Tony about something and watching him absently scratch his jaw as he spoke. It was so vivid.
"You can clean your stuff out today, Buchanan doesn't expect you at CTU-LA till tomorrow."
"All right." When he nodded she knew this meeting was over, Chris mumbled 'good-bye' and left.
Nearly seven years of faithful service -- even staying on the day her dad died, just to see the last vial secured, even coming back after she found out the truth about his death -- seven years of accolades and promotions all undone. CTU didn't fire people, like most government jobs it was difficult to be fired. No, CTU transferred people, suspended them and when the transgression was egregious enough - demoted them.
She'd just been bumped several rungs down the ladder.
"You can't tell me." There's a dry scoff but no humor in her brother's voice. "Are you kidding me?"
Chris watched the woman disappear behind her office door before she hissed, "It's classified."
The other end went silent, it stretches on for so long that Chris looked at her phone and wondered if the line had gone dead. Or maybe he'd hung up on her.
He hadn't. "Classified." A brief pause and she could almost imagine Ryan's face. "What the fuck are you doing? I thought you worked behind a desk!"
"Something came up," she said, clenching her jaw so hard she can hear the creak of bone and muscle as she does. The woman steps out of her office and gave a nod of her head towards the door down the hall. Chris followed, half-listening for her brother to speak again.
He did. "You're going to have do better than that. You disappear for days without telling anyone and won't tell me what happened?! Caiti had to cancel her vacation because you told her your plans had changed and she couldn't even get a refund for her tickets --"
Whatever he said next, she doesn't know, she stopped listening as soon as the door opened. The presence of the two women caused the dogs to become excited, barking and jumping. Some of the dogs growled and she heard the click of claws against the floor, reminding her of the smell of burnt flesh and the feel of cold mountain air.
"Miss?"
"Chris, are you listening to me?" Her brother's voice broke through her memories and Chris looked up at the woman, then away.
"I'll call you back, Ryan." She snapped the phone shut before he could protest.
"Sorry."
The woman nodded and walked down the row, Chris following though she felt lightheaded and out-of-breath.
"This your dog?" She pointed toward the black-and-tan chihuahua that hopped around in one of the top cages.
Chris sighed audibly, relieved to see Coco again. "Yes."
The woman didn't say anything, didn't move, simply nodded and wrote something down on her pad.
"... Can I take her home now?"
The woman looked up at Chris, her expression dispassionate. "After you abandoned her at the kennel she was turned over here --"
"I didn't abandon her! I left her at the kennel. I was out of the country and couldn't get back."
"You'll have to go through the adoption process again --"
"She's my dog!" This was a nightmare. If her sister was upset about the trip, she didn't want to know how Caiti would react if she lost the dog.
"We can talk about this in my office."
Slack-jawed and disbelieving, Chris just stared at her. Finally, she closed her mouth and straightened her posture, refusing to make a scene. "Fine. Let's talk."
It took a few hours for her to fall asleep. Even after running a few laps to burn off some of the nervous energy, Chris still felt restless both in body and mind. It didn't matter if her body felt fatigued, her mind ran with list of things she had to do (talk to Michelle) and memories she wanted to forget.
She had tried calling Michelle twice, both times she got a busy signal and was bumped to voicemail. Chris knew she could have stopped by the house to see how she was doing but she kept finding reasons to put it off till it was too later. She'd have to go tomorrow, after work.
Sleep came for a few hours, dreamless and fitful. She had forgotten to pick up sleeping pills and she wasn't used to being away from everyone. Alone.
As she slept, the door creaked open and she could hear crying --
"Xǐng!"
Chris was wide awake, heart pounding and frozen in the bed as she listened to the silence. Even when she realized where she was, that she was home and safe, the feeling of terror didn't dissipate. She turned on the light and leapt out of bed, going through the apartment quickly and checking all the locks on the doors and windows.
She didn't have her gun anymore and she hated that. She couldn't remember what had happened to it, she assumed the guards took it when she'd been captured and the only thing worse than how vulnerable she felt now without it was that it had been a gift from her father.
In lieu of that, she took a large butcher knife from the kitchen and one of the chairs from the dining room table. The chair went up against the door, right under the doorknob. The knife went on the night table, right in arm's reach.
She left the light on and curled into a fetal position on the bed, watching the door. This wasn't normal behavior, she knew that, but she decided she could allow this for tonight. Just so she could sleep. Tomorrow she could talk to someone. After... Her stomach turned as she thought about tomorrow, about seeing Michelle and all the ways that conversation could go.
Eventually, sleep came for her again and she slipped into the darkness. No dreams, just a flash of blue light and the spray of red blood.