LFN: Do You Remember (8/9)
Title: Do You Remember (8/9)
Series: One Line (1/26)
Character(s): Michael Samuelle, Madeline, Walter, OCs
fanfic100 Prompt: 47 - heart
Length: 1,131 words
Rating: PG-13 overall
Disclaimer: I don't know you. You don't know me. Let's keep it that way.
Summary: Michael gets new material.
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 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 9.
§§§
There are tears in her eyes. Whether from the gun-whipping or the threat he doesn’t know. But it’s too late to determine causes. He’s already weighed the outcome and no one has won. Their life has a certain harsh economy that is undeniable, implacable and unforgiving.
“So congratulations are in order.”
Amana turned from the window and watched Madeline climb the stairs into the Perch. “You just missed Operations. He- Well, you probably passed him the hall.” She frowned. “And I would have assumed you knew I was being promoted.”
Inclining her head in acknowledgment, Madeline joined Amana at the window. “That doesn’t mean congratulations aren’t in order,” she said as the new Cold Op turned away. Cocking her head to one side, she studied the young woman standing next to her. Through Elsa she had the girl coaxed out of denim, t-shirts, sweaters and boots into slacks, camisoles, blazers and…boots.
Madeline followed Amana’s gaze out onto the comm. floor. “You don’t much like Michael, do you?”
Amana cut her eyes in the older woman’s direction. There was a reason she was referred to as “The Den Mother.” So long as she remembered that it was a viper’s den, the moniker made sense. “I don’t think I’ve ever made it a secret.”
“May I ask why?”
“Why I don’t like Michael?” Not waiting for an answer, she said, “I’d think that’d be obvious.”
“Because he was instrumental in your beginning training as a Cold Op?”
Amana nodded.
“That hardly seems reasonable. Elsa also lobbied for your promotion. The two of you have always gotten along very well.”
“Elsa…cares.” Amana crossed her arms under her breasts. “She honestly felt like I was being wasted as a Field Op, that I’d do better and you’d get better out of me as a Cold Op.”
“And Michael…?”
“And with Michael I’m just a number. A bunch of figures.” She gestured to the comm. floor. Frowning, she drawled, “A statistic,”
Making a non-committal sound, Madeline turned just enough to see the op’s profile. “Elsa was doing much the same.”
Amana twisted around and graced Madeline with a wide smile. “Yeah, but she did it nicer. Even if it was a lie, Elsa made it seem like she was concerned about me personally and because of that I’d do anything for her. And she knows it. But Michael?” Her smile turned into a decided frown. She shook her head. “I bet you could not find one op, Cold, Field or otherwise, that would go out of their way for Michael. Not unless they were getting something out of it for themselves.”
“That’s more than enough for most people.”
“Not when life and limb are at stake.”
Madeline inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. “So your problem with Michael is not related to your aversion to being promoted to Cold Op.”
“Haven’t exactly been keeping that secret either, have I?”
“Subtlety isn’t one of your strong suits.” Madeline smiled. “As Michael’s material you’ll have plenty of opportunity to work on that.”
§§§
“Hey, look,” Birkoff murmured, gesturing with his chin.
Michael pulled his gaze from sim results marching across the screen in front of him and turned his gaze toward the Perch where Madeline was holding court with Amana Reyes. His new material. It occurred to him to wonder how she felt about the change in their “relationship.” She had, after all, been giving him a wide berth for the better part of two years.
“What do you think Madeline’s telling her up there?” Birkoff asked.
Michael brought the weight of his stare to bear on young man beside him.
Coloring, Birkoff quickly returned to the date before them. “Right...”
§§§
Walter rounded the corner, a stack of inactive panels in his hand. “So I guess this means congratulations are in order.”
“Oh don’t even say that,” Amana grumped, elbows on the high table in front of her. “Madeline used almost those exact same words about four hours ago.” But behind her there were murmurs of assent. Someone even patted her back. Amana whipped around. “Eric Helmsly, don’t you even start.”
The lanky Field Op raised both hands, backing away slowly. “Haven’t even been a Cold Op for one whole day and already you’re giving orders.”
“I’ll show you orders,” she smiled, an eyebrow cocked. Suddenly they were grappling, good-naturedly pushing each other across the white and gray workspace, Amana trying to hook a leg around his and bring him down, as the other members of that night’s team cheered them on.
“What’s going on?”
The calm voice cut through them all like ice water on a fire. Amana had her back to the entrance - A tactical error I bet I’ll hear about later, she thought as she dropped Helmsly’s hands - and so couldn’t see Michael. She had, of course, heard him and opened her mouth to shoulder the blame.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Michael,” Walter said before she could. “They’re just horsin’ around. I got everything under control.”
Amana turned and stepped to one side so that Helmsly, behind her, could see. Everyone else in the weapons locker seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop. Would Michael report them to Madeline and have them all reprimanded or leave them to Walter. They watched as he collected his active panel and mission arms. When he turned, he met their eyes one by one: “Section One is not a schoolyard. Thinking otherwise puts more than your own life at risk.”
They all started talking at once - murmuring in hushed tones - as soon as he was gone. Walter gestured to Amana. Rolling her eyes, she strode toward the table. “And I’m supposed to be his new material. I miss Elsa.”
“Michael’s good people, Amana.”
“You’ve been saying that for three years, Walter. Are you even sure if that’s true anymore.”
He placed a warm, callused hand on her black sleeve. “Trust me. And you’ll get used to him.”
Raising her eyebrows, Amana let a sharp short breath. “I’m not sure about that.”
§§§
They rocked with the van, despite its state-of-the-arts shocks. Michael glanced around the crowded interior: Amana was crouched on the floor handing up rifles from the weapons locker, Birkoff was using Thorne and Helmsly to test the comm., Shinn had turned Birkoff’s laptop toward himself and was going over the mission spec with three other operatives, and Tissavel appeared to be sleeping but she took a rifle when Amana handed it to her.
Weapons handed out, she kneeled up and sat beside Michael. He studied her as she did her own appraisal of the operatives crowded into the mission van and saw none of that morning’s immaturity.
“We’re ready,” she murmured.
He nodded.
A half-hour later they were silently spilling out the back of the van.
Next Part
Series: One Line (1/26)
Character(s): Michael Samuelle, Madeline, Walter, OCs
fanfic100 Prompt: 47 - heart
Length: 1,131 words
Rating: PG-13 overall
Disclaimer: I don't know you. You don't know me. Let's keep it that way.
Summary: Michael gets new material.
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 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 9.
§§§
There are tears in her eyes. Whether from the gun-whipping or the threat he doesn’t know. But it’s too late to determine causes. He’s already weighed the outcome and no one has won. Their life has a certain harsh economy that is undeniable, implacable and unforgiving.
“So congratulations are in order.”
Amana turned from the window and watched Madeline climb the stairs into the Perch. “You just missed Operations. He- Well, you probably passed him the hall.” She frowned. “And I would have assumed you knew I was being promoted.”
Inclining her head in acknowledgment, Madeline joined Amana at the window. “That doesn’t mean congratulations aren’t in order,” she said as the new Cold Op turned away. Cocking her head to one side, she studied the young woman standing next to her. Through Elsa she had the girl coaxed out of denim, t-shirts, sweaters and boots into slacks, camisoles, blazers and…boots.
Madeline followed Amana’s gaze out onto the comm. floor. “You don’t much like Michael, do you?”
Amana cut her eyes in the older woman’s direction. There was a reason she was referred to as “The Den Mother.” So long as she remembered that it was a viper’s den, the moniker made sense. “I don’t think I’ve ever made it a secret.”
“May I ask why?”
“Why I don’t like Michael?” Not waiting for an answer, she said, “I’d think that’d be obvious.”
“Because he was instrumental in your beginning training as a Cold Op?”
Amana nodded.
“That hardly seems reasonable. Elsa also lobbied for your promotion. The two of you have always gotten along very well.”
“Elsa…cares.” Amana crossed her arms under her breasts. “She honestly felt like I was being wasted as a Field Op, that I’d do better and you’d get better out of me as a Cold Op.”
“And Michael…?”
“And with Michael I’m just a number. A bunch of figures.” She gestured to the comm. floor. Frowning, she drawled, “A statistic,”
Making a non-committal sound, Madeline turned just enough to see the op’s profile. “Elsa was doing much the same.”
Amana twisted around and graced Madeline with a wide smile. “Yeah, but she did it nicer. Even if it was a lie, Elsa made it seem like she was concerned about me personally and because of that I’d do anything for her. And she knows it. But Michael?” Her smile turned into a decided frown. She shook her head. “I bet you could not find one op, Cold, Field or otherwise, that would go out of their way for Michael. Not unless they were getting something out of it for themselves.”
“That’s more than enough for most people.”
“Not when life and limb are at stake.”
Madeline inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. “So your problem with Michael is not related to your aversion to being promoted to Cold Op.”
“Haven’t exactly been keeping that secret either, have I?”
“Subtlety isn’t one of your strong suits.” Madeline smiled. “As Michael’s material you’ll have plenty of opportunity to work on that.”
§§§
“Hey, look,” Birkoff murmured, gesturing with his chin.
Michael pulled his gaze from sim results marching across the screen in front of him and turned his gaze toward the Perch where Madeline was holding court with Amana Reyes. His new material. It occurred to him to wonder how she felt about the change in their “relationship.” She had, after all, been giving him a wide berth for the better part of two years.
“What do you think Madeline’s telling her up there?” Birkoff asked.
Michael brought the weight of his stare to bear on young man beside him.
Coloring, Birkoff quickly returned to the date before them. “Right...”
§§§
Walter rounded the corner, a stack of inactive panels in his hand. “So I guess this means congratulations are in order.”
“Oh don’t even say that,” Amana grumped, elbows on the high table in front of her. “Madeline used almost those exact same words about four hours ago.” But behind her there were murmurs of assent. Someone even patted her back. Amana whipped around. “Eric Helmsly, don’t you even start.”
The lanky Field Op raised both hands, backing away slowly. “Haven’t even been a Cold Op for one whole day and already you’re giving orders.”
“I’ll show you orders,” she smiled, an eyebrow cocked. Suddenly they were grappling, good-naturedly pushing each other across the white and gray workspace, Amana trying to hook a leg around his and bring him down, as the other members of that night’s team cheered them on.
“What’s going on?”
The calm voice cut through them all like ice water on a fire. Amana had her back to the entrance - A tactical error I bet I’ll hear about later, she thought as she dropped Helmsly’s hands - and so couldn’t see Michael. She had, of course, heard him and opened her mouth to shoulder the blame.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Michael,” Walter said before she could. “They’re just horsin’ around. I got everything under control.”
Amana turned and stepped to one side so that Helmsly, behind her, could see. Everyone else in the weapons locker seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop. Would Michael report them to Madeline and have them all reprimanded or leave them to Walter. They watched as he collected his active panel and mission arms. When he turned, he met their eyes one by one: “Section One is not a schoolyard. Thinking otherwise puts more than your own life at risk.”
They all started talking at once - murmuring in hushed tones - as soon as he was gone. Walter gestured to Amana. Rolling her eyes, she strode toward the table. “And I’m supposed to be his new material. I miss Elsa.”
“Michael’s good people, Amana.”
“You’ve been saying that for three years, Walter. Are you even sure if that’s true anymore.”
He placed a warm, callused hand on her black sleeve. “Trust me. And you’ll get used to him.”
Raising her eyebrows, Amana let a sharp short breath. “I’m not sure about that.”
§§§
They rocked with the van, despite its state-of-the-arts shocks. Michael glanced around the crowded interior: Amana was crouched on the floor handing up rifles from the weapons locker, Birkoff was using Thorne and Helmsly to test the comm., Shinn had turned Birkoff’s laptop toward himself and was going over the mission spec with three other operatives, and Tissavel appeared to be sleeping but she took a rifle when Amana handed it to her.
Weapons handed out, she kneeled up and sat beside Michael. He studied her as she did her own appraisal of the operatives crowded into the mission van and saw none of that morning’s immaturity.
“We’re ready,” she murmured.
He nodded.
A half-hour later they were silently spilling out the back of the van.
Next Part