LFN: Do You Remember (2/9)
Title: Do You Remember (2/9)
Series: One Line (1/26)
Character(s): Michael Samuelle, Walter, OC, Birkoff
fanfic100 Prompt: 47 - heart
Length: 1,210 words
Rating: PG-13 overall
Disclaimer: I don't know you. You don't know me. Let's keep it that way.
Summary: Walter wants to know what happened.
Notes: this is a pre-S1 story. I have a rudimentary timeline for the series. If you would like to read the other stories in this series or the other fanfic100 stories, my prompt table is here. You can read the other parts here: part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9.
§§§
Her shoulders ache from holding her hands up in surrender. Her knees ache from being on the cold concrete. Her arms burn from the strain. If she looks up she will see the world taking on a sharpened reality as endorphins are dropped into her system to compensate for the extended pain. As her breathing begins to synchronize with her captor’s she changes her focus to these things: the aching knees, the aching shoulders. And so it is still with a distant ear that she hears: “Did you hear me?”
“So…?!”
Tired, beat up, a little bloody and more than a little smelly, Amana knew that Walter - who had met the returning team at the airlock - wasn’t talking about the experimental sights he’d put on her and Thorne’s rifles. At least that wasn’t all he was talking about.
“Need some more research Walter. And sleep.”
“And debrief,” Thorne called out as he trudged wearily past them.
“Mmm, that too.”
§§§
He saw her fidgeting on her feet, waiting for something from Birkoff, as he passed Central. He watched Birkoff turn to look at her over his shoulder and speak. She stopped fidgeting.
As they moved out of his peripheral vision he saw that she was in motion again.
Michael wondered what she’d told Walter.
§§§
“Don’t you ever stop moving?”
Amana paused midway through rocking on the balls of her feet. She lowered herself slowly. “Just when I’m on a mission,” she drawled.
“Well let’s pretend it’s one of those.”
“If you’d get me the information little bit sooner, Birkoff, then you could get rid of me.”
He snorted. “Trust me. I’m working on it.” He deigned to glance up and over his shoulder at her. “This isn’t exactly common knowledge you’re looking for, Amana.”
“I know,” she said, slowing swaying from left to right.
“Why couldn’t Walter just ask for this himself?”
Amana was certain that the bespectacled genius wasn’t talking to her, but that didn’t stop her from saying, “He probably wanted deniability. Field Ops are a dime a doz. I get found out with something I shouldn’t…Operations will either chalk it up to curiosity and have me reprimanded or just have me shot between the eyes. If Walter gets caught with some-”
“It was a rhetorical question.”
“I know.”
Shaking his head, Birkoff spun around in his chair, a mini-disc held out between two fingers. Amana turned her head slowly, the angle sharp, first to the left then to the right, cracking the bones. She took the disc. “Thanks.”
§§§
Walter watched Amana over the rim of his stark white coffee cup wondering if he was seeing a true reflection of her personality in the set of her dark eyes and the tension in the fingers holding her own stark white cup. In his limited dealing with her, he had seen many faces of her personality. She could be flighty, impetuous and mouthy…quiet, calm and considerate. He wasn’t sure yet if one character set was a cover for the other, or if she was simply a complex person. Walter was hoping it was the latter. There were too many cookie cutter operatives in Section in his opinion. Not enough life.
“Like I said, he says he’s fine,” she said, fingers tightening on the handle of her cup. “Or, not really. He did tell me to get out.”
Walter’s eyebrows rose. “And why was that, Sugar?”
“I mentioned Simone-”
He groaned. “What are you, nuts?! She’s only been dead a few months.”
“I was offering condolences!” she said quickly. Realizing just how loud that was considering the paucity of people, she gave the cafeteria an appraising visual sweep. There were four other operatives, not including various service people, scattered across the room.
Walter smiled. “Don’t worry, Sugar. Nothin’ you said should raise any flags.”
She snorted. “Call me paranoid.” Sighing she went on: “Anyway I didn’t get anything useful out of my encounter with him which I’m sorry for.”
Shrugging, Walter said, “Not your fault. Michael’s good people. Or he was until Simone was lost in that mission.”
“So I hear from the ops I’ve been sounding out. That Michael was a decent guy, a good leader but after that…” Amana shook her head. “I bet there’s no chance of getting Madeline and Operations to give him some down time to deal with his grief.”
“Ha! They weren’t exactly set on the marriage in the first place.”
“I see.” Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t like mysteries, Walter. I don’t like closed doors. I’m like a cat. I keep trying until the door swings open.”
§§§
It happened so fast.
One moment she was driving down the deserted suburban street, glancing over into the passenger seat looking for a rubber band to pull her curling hair out of her face. The next moment a small child was running in front of her car.
She slammed on the breaks so hard she was shocked the airbags didn’t activate. Her heart, on the other hand, was doing it’s level best to climb out of her chest. Perhaps to see if she had hit the child? Well she could help it along.
Get a grip, Amana. Can’t lose it now, especially if that kid needs a doctor, that always composed, always calm part of herself told her as a string of curses and prayers came spilling from lips. With trembling hands she tried to undo her seatbelt only to find that she was shaking too much. “Ai Dios Mio!” One jerk short of whipping out her sidearm and shooting the thing it released.
She was out of the car and around the front almost before she knew that she was free.
The child was still standing in front of the car, staring at it with the large doe eyes of the young. Clearly she wasn’t the only one feeling a bit shocky. Crouching next to him, she gently took his narrow little shoulders and turned him toward. “Are you okay, Papi?” she asked him, her voice hoarse with both emotion and the lingering effects of a cold.
He stared at her with those wide eyes, blinked, then flung himself into her arms wailing to the high heavens. Unprepared, she nearly fell on her rear but caught herself with one hand on the car bumper. “Ai, bendito, it’s okay. Shh, papi,” she soothed, steadying herself enough to stand with him in her arms.
One hand on his back, the other stroking his hair, she settled him on her hip and turned in a slow circle next to the car. “Where do you live, mijo? Can you tell me where you live?” she asked though she wasn’t sure he was old enough to say more than a few words. She even repeated the question in Spanish.
He sobbed against her neck.
“Okay. We’ll see who looks like they’ve lost a kid. Somebody’s got to notice you’re gone by now.” Shifting him a bit in her arms, she walked back to the car and locked the door, only mildly wondering when she’d had the sense to grab the keys out of the engine.
A sudden wind blew her hair around her head and, likely, into the boy’s eyes.
“ADAM!”
She whirled around. Hair blew in her face.
Next Part
Series: One Line (1/26)
Character(s): Michael Samuelle, Walter, OC, Birkoff
fanfic100 Prompt: 47 - heart
Length: 1,210 words
Rating: PG-13 overall
Disclaimer: I don't know you. You don't know me. Let's keep it that way.
Summary: Walter wants to know what happened.
Notes: this is a pre-S1 story. I have a rudimentary timeline for the series. If you would like to read the other stories in this series or the other fanfic100 stories, my prompt table is here. You can read the other parts here: part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9.
§§§
Her shoulders ache from holding her hands up in surrender. Her knees ache from being on the cold concrete. Her arms burn from the strain. If she looks up she will see the world taking on a sharpened reality as endorphins are dropped into her system to compensate for the extended pain. As her breathing begins to synchronize with her captor’s she changes her focus to these things: the aching knees, the aching shoulders. And so it is still with a distant ear that she hears: “Did you hear me?”
“So…?!”
Tired, beat up, a little bloody and more than a little smelly, Amana knew that Walter - who had met the returning team at the airlock - wasn’t talking about the experimental sights he’d put on her and Thorne’s rifles. At least that wasn’t all he was talking about.
“Need some more research Walter. And sleep.”
“And debrief,” Thorne called out as he trudged wearily past them.
“Mmm, that too.”
§§§
He saw her fidgeting on her feet, waiting for something from Birkoff, as he passed Central. He watched Birkoff turn to look at her over his shoulder and speak. She stopped fidgeting.
As they moved out of his peripheral vision he saw that she was in motion again.
Michael wondered what she’d told Walter.
§§§
“Don’t you ever stop moving?”
Amana paused midway through rocking on the balls of her feet. She lowered herself slowly. “Just when I’m on a mission,” she drawled.
“Well let’s pretend it’s one of those.”
“If you’d get me the information little bit sooner, Birkoff, then you could get rid of me.”
He snorted. “Trust me. I’m working on it.” He deigned to glance up and over his shoulder at her. “This isn’t exactly common knowledge you’re looking for, Amana.”
“I know,” she said, slowing swaying from left to right.
“Why couldn’t Walter just ask for this himself?”
Amana was certain that the bespectacled genius wasn’t talking to her, but that didn’t stop her from saying, “He probably wanted deniability. Field Ops are a dime a doz. I get found out with something I shouldn’t…Operations will either chalk it up to curiosity and have me reprimanded or just have me shot between the eyes. If Walter gets caught with some-”
“It was a rhetorical question.”
“I know.”
Shaking his head, Birkoff spun around in his chair, a mini-disc held out between two fingers. Amana turned her head slowly, the angle sharp, first to the left then to the right, cracking the bones. She took the disc. “Thanks.”
§§§
Walter watched Amana over the rim of his stark white coffee cup wondering if he was seeing a true reflection of her personality in the set of her dark eyes and the tension in the fingers holding her own stark white cup. In his limited dealing with her, he had seen many faces of her personality. She could be flighty, impetuous and mouthy…quiet, calm and considerate. He wasn’t sure yet if one character set was a cover for the other, or if she was simply a complex person. Walter was hoping it was the latter. There were too many cookie cutter operatives in Section in his opinion. Not enough life.
“Like I said, he says he’s fine,” she said, fingers tightening on the handle of her cup. “Or, not really. He did tell me to get out.”
Walter’s eyebrows rose. “And why was that, Sugar?”
“I mentioned Simone-”
He groaned. “What are you, nuts?! She’s only been dead a few months.”
“I was offering condolences!” she said quickly. Realizing just how loud that was considering the paucity of people, she gave the cafeteria an appraising visual sweep. There were four other operatives, not including various service people, scattered across the room.
Walter smiled. “Don’t worry, Sugar. Nothin’ you said should raise any flags.”
She snorted. “Call me paranoid.” Sighing she went on: “Anyway I didn’t get anything useful out of my encounter with him which I’m sorry for.”
Shrugging, Walter said, “Not your fault. Michael’s good people. Or he was until Simone was lost in that mission.”
“So I hear from the ops I’ve been sounding out. That Michael was a decent guy, a good leader but after that…” Amana shook her head. “I bet there’s no chance of getting Madeline and Operations to give him some down time to deal with his grief.”
“Ha! They weren’t exactly set on the marriage in the first place.”
“I see.” Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t like mysteries, Walter. I don’t like closed doors. I’m like a cat. I keep trying until the door swings open.”
§§§
It happened so fast.
One moment she was driving down the deserted suburban street, glancing over into the passenger seat looking for a rubber band to pull her curling hair out of her face. The next moment a small child was running in front of her car.
She slammed on the breaks so hard she was shocked the airbags didn’t activate. Her heart, on the other hand, was doing it’s level best to climb out of her chest. Perhaps to see if she had hit the child? Well she could help it along.
Get a grip, Amana. Can’t lose it now, especially if that kid needs a doctor, that always composed, always calm part of herself told her as a string of curses and prayers came spilling from lips. With trembling hands she tried to undo her seatbelt only to find that she was shaking too much. “Ai Dios Mio!” One jerk short of whipping out her sidearm and shooting the thing it released.
She was out of the car and around the front almost before she knew that she was free.
The child was still standing in front of the car, staring at it with the large doe eyes of the young. Clearly she wasn’t the only one feeling a bit shocky. Crouching next to him, she gently took his narrow little shoulders and turned him toward. “Are you okay, Papi?” she asked him, her voice hoarse with both emotion and the lingering effects of a cold.
He stared at her with those wide eyes, blinked, then flung himself into her arms wailing to the high heavens. Unprepared, she nearly fell on her rear but caught herself with one hand on the car bumper. “Ai, bendito, it’s okay. Shh, papi,” she soothed, steadying herself enough to stand with him in her arms.
One hand on his back, the other stroking his hair, she settled him on her hip and turned in a slow circle next to the car. “Where do you live, mijo? Can you tell me where you live?” she asked though she wasn’t sure he was old enough to say more than a few words. She even repeated the question in Spanish.
He sobbed against her neck.
“Okay. We’ll see who looks like they’ve lost a kid. Somebody’s got to notice you’re gone by now.” Shifting him a bit in her arms, she walked back to the car and locked the door, only mildly wondering when she’d had the sense to grab the keys out of the engine.
A sudden wind blew her hair around her head and, likely, into the boy’s eyes.
“ADAM!”
She whirled around. Hair blew in her face.
Next Part