Pantheon - Chapter Sixteen (05/23/2007)
I thought it best to get this chapter done as soon as I could, so everyone wouldn't freak out about Dom's fate. *grins* Somehow, I don't think anyone will object to that. ;)
Title: Pantheon
Author: That'd be me. *grins* Andrew, Obsidian, call me what you want. But only if it's nice. ;)
Rating: R, or MA, whichever you understand better. ^_^
Comments: Obviously, this is an AU, but it'll be a bit more alternate then most, as this fic's Amy has something of a hidden past, which is in the process of shaking quite a number of worlds as it surfaces. And if you thought there was angst in my last fic... *evil chuckle*
Well, I didn't make you wait quite as long between updates this time, right? So hopefully, everyone will be able to forgive me for everything in this chapter. *very, very quiet evil chuckle*
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own 'D.E.B.S.' That belongs to the fabulously talented Angela Robinson. 'The Pretender' was created by Steven Long Mitchell and Craig W. Van Sickle. (No idea who owns it now, as I don't think it's TNT anymore...)
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Chapter Sixteen
The 'transporter' used by the D.E.B.S. was a singularly unique experience. It felt vaguely akin to freefall, with a dash of zero-g inversion thrown in for good measure. If he spent much time in Africa it would also give him a whole new definition for the term 'jet lag'.
Despite all that, though, Jarod had to admit that instantaneous transportation had definite advantages, especially in situations where time was of the essence.
As it was here.
They'd traced Dominique's comm signal to a fortified complex in northern Libya, which was located in a desert scrub-littered plateau which would make sneaking in virtually impossible, and the sweltering temperature made sure that anyone who ended up eluding their security patrols and fleeing out into the barren wasteland that went on for miles and miles in all directions would not be long for this world. It didn't look like much aboveground, just a cluster of small, squat, unpainted rectangular concrete structures.
Underground was another story. He'd hacked into the database of the construction company that they had used so long ago - and kept using whenever they needed something updated or repaired - and found that those three buildings were only the entrances and exits for a massive underground complex that could easily rivel The Centre - aboveground AND sub-levels - in size, and likely had just as many personnel.
Of course, that also meant that they would have plenty of people coming and going, as there certainly seemed to be now. It would be an easy enough matter to find an appropriate vehicle to stow away in, especially as the D.E.B.S. had been thoughtful enough to drop him off in what they'd managed to determine was one of the transfer points for equipment heading to Triumvirate headquarters.
He just hoped that he'd make it in time.
**********************************************
Had it been ten minutes, yet?
It was so hard for her to keep track of time. Whatever it was that they had given her was making her head swim, and she had no idea if that was supposed to happen or not.
Well. Technically, from her point of view, none of this was supposed to be happening, was it?
Dominique stifled a moan, though doing so was getting harder. Damn. That meant that the... whatever... was taking effect. And it had to at least been more then five minutes, she was fairly certain of that, at least.
Could she perhaps mislead them with answers that were still true? She pictured White asking again Who are you? Perhaps she could answer that she was a college student? It was true.
My name is Dominique Bucher.
She blinked, uncertain why she'd thought that. Well, unless they had mind readers, it didn't matter. She typically didn't mention her surname at all, given how often she would be asked what kind of name it was, or what it meant.
Bucher. Pronounced Booshay. A wood-house; pile of wood; pyre; funeral-pile.
Yeah, that wasn't really something she wanted to dwell on just then. If he bought the college student line - and it was true, he'd know that if only because she'd been able to give it as an answer with his damned drug pumping through her veins - he'd next ask who she was working for. Trickier, but perhaps she could claim to be working with Jarod? That was also more or less true, and she didn't think he'd buy that she was working for The Centre, even though she technically had been-
I am an agent of the United States government, and a member of the D.E.B.S.
O...kay, this was not even remotely good. If she couldn't even lie to herself in her own head, then she'd never be able to do so aloud. Which meant that the drug had well and truly taken effect, and that meant that it had to have been close to ten minutes already. She sighed, wishing she'd at least had a chance to say goodbye to her friends before she'd gotten on the plane. Because she'd rather kill herself then tell him anything.
She was slightly heartened by the lack of any traitorous refutals of that in the back of her head. She also wondered what Max would think, when she learned of this. She'd be hurt that someone she considered a friend was gone, true, but would there be anything more? They didn't even have a relationship, didn't even really have anything beyond the daytime equivalent of a one-night stand.
I'd like to try, though.
The thought startled her, but she had little time to dwell on it before the door to her room opened again, admitting White. Oddly enough, the lights in the corridor behind him were dimmed, and there was a periodic red flash, as if...
She inhaled sharply. As if there was an alarm going off! And the only thing that she could think of that would cause that was a rescue attempt. If she could just hold on a little longer...
He shut the door behind him, cutting off the mildly encouraging view. "Are you ready to talk now?"
She told him, in French, to go choke on his own excrement.
His eyebrows raised. "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but I'll take that as a 'yes'. Let's get down to business."
This time she said that she would rather cut his head off with a penknife. He looked mildly frustrated, which, given his earlier expressionless mask, she took to indicate that she was really annoying him. Good.
She thought she might just have hit on a winning strategy. If she ignored his questions completely and just kept insulting and/or threatening him, eventually the drug would wear off. Sure, he could just reinject her, but it would buy time, which was what she needed most if a rescue attempt was, in fact, underway.
"Be quiet," he told her firmly. Her mouth snapped shut as if on a spring.
Merde. So it wasn't just a truth serum, but also a compliance drug? Well... that, as Janet might have said, really sucked.
"You're going to tell me what I want to know, now," he informed her. "Do you understand?"
Of course she understood. She understood that she was in a LOT of trouble, and everything Amy and the D.E.B.S. had been working towards for four years was in dire jeoperdy just because she'd gotten careless and overconfident. Though, in all fairness, there had been zero indication that anything was amiss, or at least that anyone had any hint that she wasn't who she claimed she was.
"Tell me you understand."
"I... understand..." she ground out, the words being forced from her despite her best efforts.
"Good. Now, tell me-"
That was as far as he got. So intent were they on her interrogation, neither had noticed that the door had reopened behind White.
Dominique did, however, notice when his head disappeared in a red cloud, bursting open like an overripe fruit and spraying blood, bone fragments, and pieces of his brain all over. Thankfully, her mouth opened in shock after she was splattered by the gore.
As his now headless body dropped to the ground, and her ears recovered from the near-deafening report that had to come from a heavy-caliber Magnum of some kind, she caught sight of the figure standing in the door.
It was hard to make out features in the dim light in the hall, but the lithe, graceful curves indicated that whoever it was, she was clearly female. Then she stepped into the room, and Dominique had the crazy thought that maybe she'd been safer with the Triumvirate people.
The dark-skinned woman looked down at her with such a dispassionate, pitiless gaze that there was only one person she could be. "You're Kali," she said, telling herself that her voice only shook because of the drug.
That isn't true.
Shut up, she told the annoying voice. Just shut up.
Kali inclined her head in agreement, then stooped down near White's corpse, and, heedless of the carnage she'd just created, searched him until she found the key for Dominique's restraints. And evidently even the cold-blooded killing machine couldn't resist some lines when the perfect situation came up, because once she'd freed Dominique from the chair she stood, held out a hand, and with the barest trace of a smile said only one thing.
"Come with me if you want to live."
**********************************************
Amy sat in the hospital director's office, looking as calm and relaxed on the outside as she did NOT feel on the inside. She hated having to be away from Lucy so soon, and for who knew how long, but it couldn't have been avoided.
Jarod had, thankfully, agreed to go attempt and rescue Dominique, and after a conversation with the higher-ups in the D.E.B.S., had gone off to do just that. But he had been in the middle of something important in Des Moines, and it wasn't fair to just expect him to simply drop that just because she'd asked him to. So she'd volunteered to take his place.
It was almost refreshing, in a way. So long had her skills been used in either espionage or assassination, that a chance to just be a normal Pretender was certainly welcome. Granted, that meant she'd still have to deal with at least one killer, and it was certainly possible that Parker and her team would show up during their pursuit of Jarod, but in comparison to some of the other threats she'd faced in the past, those two were almost laughable.
Besides, she'd already demonstrated that The Centre's minions couldn't harm her. So she'd gathered up everything she thought she might conceivably need, reskimmed any medical texts that she hadn't read in a while (not that she'd forgotten anything, but some of them had been republished with new information), and set up an appointment to talk with the administrator about taking over for "Doctor Jenner".
Then she'd called Kali.
She'd made a show of turning off her comm first, so that Lucy would know she hadn't been lying to her before when she'd said she had no idea how to get in touch with the assassin. They'd developed a few alternate means of communication back during their Centre days, and now that she actually knew that someone else from Pantheon was alive and would be able to get any messages, she'd quickly blown the figurative dust off of one. Fortunately, Kali had already been in Africa, preparing to strike against the Triumvirate. Rescuing Dominique might complicate that a little, but only to a negligible degree, while having plenty of positive effects.
For which Amy was very thankful, because she was under no illusions that Kali would have agreed to do it out of the kindness of her own heart.
She was just glad that Lucy had understood. She hadn't been thrilled that Amy had had to leave so soon, either, but Amy had promised to make it up to her. And it was for a good cause.
Phillip Jenkins, age thirty-five, husband and father of three. He'd come in for a routine appendectomy, only to suffer a series of suspicious "complications" that had spiraled out of control, until he lay dead on the table in front of a baffled team of surgeons.
Ordinarily, she would have instantly investigated the performing surgeon, a doctor Willis Jake (temporarily on leave during the hospital's investigation as a precautionary measure - Jarod had actually taken his place), but evidently Jarod had already talked to him, and seemed to think he was innocent. The frustrating thing was that until she figured out just what had actually happened to Mr. Jenkins, she couldn't narrow down the list of those who could have been responsible. And since she was, technically, being brought in to replace the man who'd replaced one of their trusted colleagues, she wasn't sure how much cooperation she would get from the rest of the staff.
Dr. O'Neil ("That's with one 'L'"), the administrator, didn't much seem to care if she was accepted or not, just if she knew her stuff. By the end of her interview he'd seemed to be satisfied, and asked when she could start. Naturally, she'd been ready to start immediately, but if she was going to be taking Jarod's shifts, she had a few more hours to wait.
That was fine with her. It would give her a chance to go back to Jarod's rented apartment and go over his notes. If she could figure out who he'd already considered and rejected, she might save herself a bit of time.
And anything was better then just sitting around and worrying about Dom.
**********************************************
"Why are you helping me?" Dominique asked as Kali helped her to her feet and supported her as they walked out of the room.
"You're of much more use to me undercover in The Centre," Kali replied flatly, not even seeming to notice the three other bodies in the hallway unless she had to steer them around one.
Dominique didn't have that luxury, and winced at the looks of terror on their faces... the two that still had faces, anyway. She was actually grateful that White hadn't given her anything to eat even during the plane ride, because she would have lost it by now. "What do you know about that?"
"Probably more then you do."
She huffed. "I do not think-"
"No, you obviously don't," Kali interrupted. "There were other ways that you could have found out where the Triumvirate was based, Dominique. This was foolish."
She couldn't really disagree with that - she wanted to, but the drug still in her veins wouldn't let her - and something else caught her attention first. "How do you know my name?"
"Se- Amy told me."
And that raised a whole new batch of questions, but those could wait until they were safely out of there. Ideally, they could wait until she was face-to-face with Amy, with Kali long gone. "Where are we going?"
"Express elevator to the surface. It's the fastest way, and will let us avoid the gas."
"Gas?"
"This floor operates with its own separate life-support systems. Ironically, it was intended so that, in case of prisoner escape, just this floor could be gassed, while the rest of the complex was unaffected. Reversing that was a simple matter."
"So you hit everyone else with sleeping gas?" Well, that would make things much easier.
Kali shook her head. "Sarin."
Dominique stumbled in mid-step. "You what?!"
Kali heartlessly tugged her along until she had recovered her balance. "You say that as if you think I routinely carry around massive tanks of sarin gas. It was theirs. I just used it."
Dominique got the feeling that she wasn't defending herself so much as she was clarifying a point. If she had brought the sarin herself and used it, she probably would have readily admitted it. "You... you're..."
"I am what they made me," she said as they reached the elevator and she swiped a security card through the reader. "Nothing less. In a very real sense, they did this to themselves."
And while she may have thought there was a certain poetic justice to it all, this was still horrifying. "How many?" Dominique asked, leaning against the back wall as the elevator began moving upwards. "How many were there?"
Kali studied her for a moment, then replied, "I don't think you really want to know, do you?"
"No," she admitted before she could stop herself. "But I feel like I should." It had to be in the hundreds, at least, she realized, her stomach churning.
"There were no innocents here. In fact, many of the higher ranking Triumvirate members that had recently arrived had done so because of you, to witness your torture and questioning firsthand. I suppose I should thank you for that; it would have been much harder to get them all, otherwise. Not a single person here so much as lifted a finger to help you. They would have squeezed every possible bit of information out of you, then tortured you more, just for fun, then finally killed you and disposed of your body like so much trash. Do you really think I was wrong to kill them?"
Of course she did, she wanted to say. She was a government agent, she couldn't just sanction casual mass-murder. But no sooner had she opened her mouth to say so then she again said, "No."
A flicker of surprise crossed Kali's face. "That must be one hell of a drug they gave you. Pity you don't really have any information I might want." Dominique had a moment to feel relief before she added, "Except for one thing." She tensed back up. "What do you know about the relationship between Amy and Lucy Diamond?"
Dominique blinked. "What?"
"You heard me."
"Oui, but why do you wish to know-"
"Because I do." A faint look of annoyance ghosted across her face. "Now answer the question."
Dominique tried to fight the compulsion, but again failed. "I know zey are involved, and zat it must be serious for them to have each taken the risks that they have for ze other."
Kali was silent for a moment. "So Diamond loves her, too, then?"
Love? Amy was in love? "It would not surprise me."
Kali again fell silent, making Dominique wonder just what it was that she was thinking about, what had prompted this line of questioning.
And just how far down she'd been, because the elevator was moving along at a fair clip, and they still weren't at the surface yet.
They must have finally been getting close, though, because Kali abruptly snapped back to reality. "I couldn't take care of many of the guards on the surface without running the risk of someone discovering me and what I was doing," she said. "So while there shouldn't be too many of them, we are going to have to fight our way out."
"Oh... joy."
Kali actually smiled. "That's the spirit."
Dominique got the depressing feeling that she was serious.
Kali threw Dominique's right arm back over her shoulder, pulled out a gun, and dragged her forward the second the doors started to open. There was only one guard in sight, and he'd been facing away from them until the ding of the elevator. Kali barely spared him a look before she shot him.
Absently, Dominique wondered if this was a different gun, or if she'd just blinked and missed Kali putting a silencer on it.
A second guard jumped out at them from behind a pile of crates, making Dominique take notice of their surroundings for the first time. This building was probably just used as camouflage in case of visitors. It was dressed up as some kind of storage area, with a couple of trucks in varying states of disrepair, as if they were in the middle of maintenance. She wondered if any work was ever done on they beyond occasionally dusting them off.
As she wondered, Kali slipped out from under her arm, deflected the guard's clumsy attack, slammed the butt of her gun into his head knocking him back several steps, then shot him in the face - which, Silencer or not, was messy - and was back under her arm before she could do more then wobble a bit.
The next two attacked in conjunction, and Kali swung around to kick one away. She twirled around fast enough, in fact, to take Dominique with her, and Dominique caught on just in time to add as much force of her own - which wasn't much - to make the kick that caught the second one across the jaw that much harder. They were both taken down with headshots in rapid succession. "Kali?" she managed to pant out as they continued across the rapidly shrinking floor space.
"Yes?"
"Ze plan?"
Kali raised an eyebrow as they approached another pile of crates near one of the big doors. As she looked for the button to raise it - making Dom wonder just how she'd gotten in - she replied, "According to Amy, Jarod should be getting here any- duck." This was said with no particular urgency or visible provocation, but still Kali fell to one knee, taking Dom down with her.
A series of shots punched through the air where their heads had just been into one of the crates. Kali absently aimed her gun behind them without bothering to look and fired three quick shots. There was a shout of pain, a loud chittering as the gunman squeezed the trigger inadvertently, though the shots ended up nowhere near them, then there was silence, broken only by the sound of yet another body hitting the ground. "Any minute," she finished. She dragged Dominique behind the crates, setting her down on the ground.
For the French girl's sake, Jarod had better get there soon. While it would be a waste to go through all of this just to let her die, and she had been serious about the benefits of her infiltration of The Centre continuing, there would eventually come a point where the costs outweighed the good that would come of it.
Or more simply put, she was not worth dying for.
**********************************************
Kathleen winced as she adjusted the sling around her neck, trying to keep her cast-covered arm as still as possible. The doctors had done what they could, but she knew they were overwhelmed at the moment, and could only do enough to make sure she was stabilized. Further work on reknitting the bones in her arm.
It was a good thing she was right-handed, she decided.
With a sigh, she leaned back in her chair. The Imfirmary was finally starting to quiet down, with most visitors being kicked out to let the patients that needed to stay overnight - or longer - sleep, but so far she'd escaped notice. Or maybe it was just that no one had the heart to ask her to leave Monica's side. Their other two squad-mates had been by to check on her - well, on both of them, she supposed - and had even taken a moment to sign Kathleen's cast.
She thought that maybe the doctors weren't too upset. They probably would have wanted her to stay, but they'd begun to run out of beds, which was rather depressing. There was only one left over, and rumor was that it was being kept open for Dominique, who was allegedly being rescued from some bad guys. Who was doing the rescuing was a popular subject of debate, given that most of her team was either indisposed (she could see Max's bed from where she was), helping strengthen their defenses (though what Amy would know about computers was anyone's guess), or too busy trying to keep things running smoothly around the Academy (which was probably just something to keep Janet too busy to freak out, or something). Some people said Amy had finished her work already and left, but no one could seem to confirm that.
She barely cared. But she had nonetheless been continuing to relay all of that to Monica, speaking as quietly as she could while still able to be heard. The doctors had said that it might help, after all, and that studies showed that people in comas could often hear what was being said to them. It was such an ingrained habit to talk to Monica about anything and everything, though, that she probably would have done it regardless. She took a sip of water from one of the glasses on the small table next to Monica's bed to soothe her increasingly sore throat and paused. She was slowly but surely running out of things to say, but the thought of leaving Monica alone in silence, of giving up, for some reason brought her near the edge of panic. Monica wouldn't want her to exhaust herself - or injure herself - just to keep her company, but...
She couldn't help herself. "Wake up," she finally pleaded quietly. "Please wake up." For three years they'd been inseparable, no matter what fresh hell had been tossed at them. There had even been vague - very, very vague, not to mention completely unconfirmed - mutterings about them replacing the current members of Sector 1 next year. But for that to happen, Monica had to wake up.
She reached out with her free hand and squeezed Monica's, not even noticing the tears that had - again - started to fall. "Please don't leave me," she begged, voice breaking. "I can't do this alone." She really didn't care who would say what anymore.
She wept.
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It had taken seemingly forever for the truck he'd stowed away in to reach the Triumvirate facility. Jarod could understand why they needed transfer points. Otherwise, vehicles would run out of gas on the way to or from there. Rather then begin unloading right away, though, the two men from the cab began shouting about something, and were quickly silenced by gunfire.
As if to emphasize that all wasn't well, something exploded.
Cautiously, he edged to the doors of the truck and opened one a crack. He winced as he caught sight of the body of one of the drivers several feet away. Single shot, right to the heart. There was more gunfire off in the distance, as if there was a war going on.
And from the sounds of it, they were losing.
There didn't seem to be anyone in sight, but he had no idea how long it would stay that way. There was another explosion, much more muted this time, and he recognized the sound as a smoke grenade. The gunfire became more erratic as the gunmen seemingly lost track of their target. Most of the noise sounded like it was coming from concrete structure closest to him, an idea further supported by the smoke that was beginning to seep out of the rapidly rising door. Well, Amy had said she would try to recruit additional help in rescuing Dominique. This certainly seemed to fit the bill as far as that was concerned.
Taking a chance, he dashed over to the building, flattened himself against the wall, then quickly darted around the corner, through the door, and inside.
Almost immediately, there was a gun pressed up against his head.
After a beat, there was a vaguely disappointed, "Oh. It's you." Whoever it was sighed, and lowered her gun. "What kept you?"
"Blame the guys driving," he said cautiously, turning to squint at her through the hazy air. Fighting down a sudden urge to cough, he felt a by now familiar thrill of shocked recognition. "I remember you. Kali, right?" In retrospect, he knew he probably shouldn't have been as surprised as he was. After all, if Amy was still alive, why not her, too?
"Yeah. Can we save the reunion for later, though?" She disappeared behind a stack of crates for a moment, then reappeared nearly carrying a weakly coughing Asian girl that had to be the missing Dominique. "We have to go. Now."
Dominique muttered something in French, then quietly asked, "What 'ave you done now?"
Ignoring the question, Kali shoved her at Jarod, withdrew a second gun from nowhere that he could ascertain, and turned to face the smoke-filled room. "Are the keys still in that truck out there?"
Dominique was growing too weak to stand, whatever exertions she'd undertaken before he got there evidently growing to be too much for her, so he just scooped her up into his arms. "I'm not sure."
"Do you think you could find out?" There was a fair trace of acid in the question, and she punctuated it by firing off a shot into the smoke.
There was a thud as something - or someone - hit the ground.
Deciding not to waste time by answering, he carried Dominique outside and over to the truck, opening the passenger side door and carefully putting her inside. From there he could see that the keys were indeed still in the ignition. "We're good to go!" he shouted, moving around to the driver's side and getting in. There was a sudden increase of gunfire, then the sound of running feet, and the passenger door opened again to show Kali finishing tucking her guns away, moving Dominique over with surprising gentleness, then getting in and closing the door. "Go," she said flatly.
Jarod didn't really need further encouragement, starting the engine and peeling out just as Kali finished belting herself and Dominique in. "We're not going to make it back to the transfer station," he warned.
"We don't have to. There's a privately owned airstrip not far from here. Where you landed, actually." This was obviously directed at Dominique. She looked at Jarod. "Think you could fly a Concorde? It should be done refueling by now, and I know you have flight experience."
He gave that serious consideration. "Probably," he decided. "You want to fly their own airplane back?"
"Good. And yes. It'll help support the illusion that they didn't find anything wrong with her and sent her back to continue doing the task that they sent her to The Centre for in the first place." She looked back at Dominique, who more or less focused back at her. "Your bag should still be on the plane, as well as some medical supplies, so we should be able to get you cleaned up once we're in the air. And then you can figure out what you're going to do with this." She took something out of a pocket and held it up.
Dominique blinked. "My comm? Where did you-?"
"I had to do a bit of looking around before I found you." She put it back in her pocket, then took out something else.
"What makes you think they won't catch up with us before we can get there?" Jarod asked, keeping one eye on the mirror to make sure they weren't being followed. Which they thusfar weren't, but who knew how long that would last?
"Trust me, they won't," she replied with a faint smile, then pressed something on the object in her hand.
There was a sudden flare of light behind them, soon followed by a boom that shook the truck.
Kali gave a satisfied sigh as she put the remote detonator away. "Don't you just love C-4?"
"Imbécile," Dominique muttered, leaning back into the seat and closing her eyes. Who the statement was directed at, exactly, was unknown.
**********************************************
Amy frowned in concentration as she looked down at the notebook on the table in front of her. The apartment was decorated in the typically spartan appearance that most of Jarod's hiding places enjoyed, with just the bare essentials in furniture. Ordinarily, there would also be a DSA player, complete with a large cache of DSA discs, but since Jarod understandably couldn't just leave those unattended for who knew how long, they'd been relocated to the D.E.B.S. academy for safekeeping for the duration of the emergency. All that was left to show he'd been there at all was the notebook he'd been keeping (complete with cut out newspaper articles), several pez dispensers (which he assured her that she could help herself to), and a Mr. Potato Head.
Honestly, she didn't even want to know about that last one. Those things had always freaked her out a little, for some reason she'd never quite been able to grasp.
Jarod had narrowed the list of suspects down to six. Unfortunately, his notes didn't let her narrow it down any further. Not that she'd really expected it to be that easy, but it still would have been nice.
Suspect #1) Dr. Elliot O'Neil ("That's O'Neil with one 'L'"), the administrator. Allegedly had a gambling habit. If Dr. Jake found out about that reported him, he would run the risk of losing his VERY well paying job, as well as the status it afforded him.
Suspect #2) Mike Halsey, assisting surgeon. Constantly critical of Dr. Jake, he was the first to point the finger when Jenkins died. Unfortunately, Jarod hadn't been able to turn up any evidence he'd done anything wrong.
Suspect #3) Carol Fairbairn, attending nurse. She seemed to be on the list just because she was in the room, but that didn't mean Amy could discount her.
Suspect #4) Dennis Gower, resident surgeon. Freshly out of medical school, he was reportedly very ambitious, and a sudden opening in the surgical staff would allow him to rapidly rise through the ranks.
Suspect #5) Lee Hoffman, patient. According to witnesses, he'd threatened Mr. Jenkins during his admission. Hoffman had been high on a number of drugs at the time, though, and had been restrained later on. Still, it was possible he'd either slipped his leash during Jenkins' operation and done... something, or that the whole thing had been staged.
Suspect #6) Regina Roorback, desk clerk. She didn't seem to like anyone, and was rumored to have slashed Dr. Jake's tires once. Unfortunately, no one seemed to have any idea why, and nothing was ever proven.
She sighed and closed the notebook. No getting around it, then. She was going to have to do this the hard way, and go undercover. Ordinarily, that wouldn't have bothered her at all (and from a purely mental point of view it didn't now, as doing so was second nature to her now... almost first, really), but just then she sorely resented the entire situation for taking her away from Lucy.
But looking at the photo of Phillip Jenkins' family in the newspaper article... She couldn't walk away now. Those three children had just lost their father, and dammit, she was going to find out why.
Just as soon as she threw that malformed potato thing out the window so it wouldn't stare at her anymore.
**********************************************
Dominique buried a wince as the nurse removed the IV from her arm. She felt much better now that the drug had been cleansed from her system and she'd had something to eat, but they still wanted to keep her there for overnight observation.
That was just fine by her, really. She needed time to decompress, and process everything that had happened. After that, she would speak to her superiors about her reinsertion into The Centre.
Maybe it might seem insane to some that she would want to go back after what she'd just been through, but the whole point of going through it had been so that she could go back. Because her job wasn't done, yet.
It was like what Kali had said to her on the plane as she cleaned her up to the best of her ability - and become one of the very, very few people that Dominique could honestly say did not arouse her even remotely while running their hands over her body; Kali's touch had been almost painfully emotionless and clinical - and she'd asked her why she was doing all this: "You get a job, you do the job, and you do it right."
Kali had, understandably, declined her half-hearted invitation to accompany them back to the D.E.B.S. academy, instead vanishing into the crowd upon touchdown at LAX. If anyone at The Centre asked why 'Diabolique' had gone to L.A. first instead of flying back to Blue Cove, she would tell them that she'd been ordered to check up on Sekhmet before she did anything else. Hopefully, no one would discover that Amy wasn't actually there at all.
She waited until the nurse had left the room, then carefully slid off the bed and levered herself to her feet. Her legs still felt like they had the consistency of tapioca, but she managed to make it several beds down to where Max lay, then collapsed gratefully into a chair on the left side of the bed. The only other D.E.B. doing something similar was a girl she thought was named Kathleen who'd fallen asleep in her chair, holding her teammate's hand. Very sweet, she decided.
Jarod would at least be sticking around for a while, which would no doubt relieve Amy once she got back. And the chances anyone from The Centre would notice were exceedingly slim. Selfishly, she was glad, because that meant that Petrie and Phipps would be debriefing him about the events in Africa first. She'd already filled them in on the basics over the comm, then for a little while before the medical staff had chased everyone who didn't have to be there out - for which she was grateful, because Janet's hugs had threatened to dislodge the IV.
"Hey," a voice said softly. She blinked, not having noticed that Max had woken up. "'ello," she replied just as quietly.
"Heard you had a bit of a rough time."
"You could say that." Really, it was all she could do to keep from climbing into the bed and joining Max, and not even for sex. She just needed physical contact. Comfort.
Despite how badly she knew it would surprise the nurses in the morning.
"Sorry."
"For what? You could not have prevented it. Though I perhaps could have, by being more careful."
"I would have done the same thing."
Which was Max-speak for 'you did the right thing', she knew. Dominique nearly smiled. "I do not wish to seem that I am glad you failed in your attempts to stop Kali, because I have seen the damage she did. But... It is ironic that, if you had, I might well be dead now, no?"
Max gave a short, humorless laugh. It was more of a huff, really. "Trust me, I'm well aware of the irony. And the fact that if it weren't for her, I could have come for you myself, with significantly smaller body count."
Dominique shrugged. "I am not happy about it, either. However, what is done is done. They are the ones who made her into a weapon." Yet Amy was the one who pulled the trigger. It was the one thing that she'd left out of her report, and she'd made Jarod promise not to mention it, either. As far as anyone else was concerned, Kali had only known she was there because she intercepted a Centre communication that had mentioned that fact. She wanted to talk with Amy first before she decided whether or not to change that story.
God, she needed a cigarette. Or an orgasm. Or something, dammit! Giving up, she performed the herculean task of getting out of the chair and climbing up onto the bed to lay next to Max.
Who, naturally, was somewhat surprised by this. "What the hell are you doing?"
Dominique silenced her with a kiss. "We must speak of this later," she said, noting with dismay that Max had suddenly tensed up.
Well, that wouldn't do at all. Max needed to be more relaxed if she was going to heal. Dominique trailed her fingers over Max's thigh, listening to the sharp inhalation of breath. "Vous êtes trop tendu," she informed her. "Vous devez détendre."
"What?" Max asked, eyes widening as Dominique's fingers moved further up her leg with a feather-light touch, vanishing under the hospital gown that was all Max was wearing. She gasped loudly as Dominique's questing digits found their destination.
"Vous avez besoin de cet puis I," Dominique assured her, settling into a steady rythem that she knew from experience should make quick work of Max. Not something she usually did with her lovers, but this was a unique situation. And indeed, already Max was fighting down a moan.
With a smile, Dominique flexed her fingers upward, and Max's body quickly followed suit, nearly leaving the bed completely. Dominique seized Max's lips with her own, and Max moaned into her mouth. Thankfully, that muffled it enough that she didn't wake anyone up. Several more rapid-fire moans followed, then what might have become a scream if it had been allowed. Max collapsed down on the bed, limp with exhaustion.
And, Dominique noted with pride, an utter lack of tension. She cuddled up next to Max, waving off the latter's vague attempts to insinuate that she wanted to return the favor. "C'était pour toi. Je garderai pour maintenant." Finally, taking pity on Max's confused expression, she added, "Go to sleep, now. I will be here when you wake up." She laid her head down on the pillow next to Max's and closed her eyes. After a moment's uncertainty, Max did the same.
They did, in fact, surprise the nurses.
________________________________________________________________________
Wow, that wrote a lot faster then I expected. I hope everyone liked it (and that the ending wasn't too explicit, as I tried to be careful about that). If I made any mistakes on the French translations, keep in mind that I speak no French at all, and thus was relying on an online translator. So if there are any grammatical errors, I apologize.
Next time - "Dr. Bradshaw" zeros in on the killer, while 'Diabolique' begins implementing a new strategy in getting closer to Sekhmet - seducing a certain D.E.B.S. team leader.
Title: Pantheon
Author: That'd be me. *grins* Andrew, Obsidian, call me what you want. But only if it's nice. ;)
Rating: R, or MA, whichever you understand better. ^_^
Comments: Obviously, this is an AU, but it'll be a bit more alternate then most, as this fic's Amy has something of a hidden past, which is in the process of shaking quite a number of worlds as it surfaces. And if you thought there was angst in my last fic... *evil chuckle*
Well, I didn't make you wait quite as long between updates this time, right? So hopefully, everyone will be able to forgive me for everything in this chapter. *very, very quiet evil chuckle*
Legal Disclaimer: I do not own 'D.E.B.S.' That belongs to the fabulously talented Angela Robinson. 'The Pretender' was created by Steven Long Mitchell and Craig W. Van Sickle. (No idea who owns it now, as I don't think it's TNT anymore...)
________________________________________________________________________
Chapter Sixteen
The 'transporter' used by the D.E.B.S. was a singularly unique experience. It felt vaguely akin to freefall, with a dash of zero-g inversion thrown in for good measure. If he spent much time in Africa it would also give him a whole new definition for the term 'jet lag'.
Despite all that, though, Jarod had to admit that instantaneous transportation had definite advantages, especially in situations where time was of the essence.
As it was here.
They'd traced Dominique's comm signal to a fortified complex in northern Libya, which was located in a desert scrub-littered plateau which would make sneaking in virtually impossible, and the sweltering temperature made sure that anyone who ended up eluding their security patrols and fleeing out into the barren wasteland that went on for miles and miles in all directions would not be long for this world. It didn't look like much aboveground, just a cluster of small, squat, unpainted rectangular concrete structures.
Underground was another story. He'd hacked into the database of the construction company that they had used so long ago - and kept using whenever they needed something updated or repaired - and found that those three buildings were only the entrances and exits for a massive underground complex that could easily rivel The Centre - aboveground AND sub-levels - in size, and likely had just as many personnel.
Of course, that also meant that they would have plenty of people coming and going, as there certainly seemed to be now. It would be an easy enough matter to find an appropriate vehicle to stow away in, especially as the D.E.B.S. had been thoughtful enough to drop him off in what they'd managed to determine was one of the transfer points for equipment heading to Triumvirate headquarters.
He just hoped that he'd make it in time.
**********************************************
Had it been ten minutes, yet?
It was so hard for her to keep track of time. Whatever it was that they had given her was making her head swim, and she had no idea if that was supposed to happen or not.
Well. Technically, from her point of view, none of this was supposed to be happening, was it?
Dominique stifled a moan, though doing so was getting harder. Damn. That meant that the... whatever... was taking effect. And it had to at least been more then five minutes, she was fairly certain of that, at least.
Could she perhaps mislead them with answers that were still true? She pictured White asking again Who are you? Perhaps she could answer that she was a college student? It was true.
My name is Dominique Bucher.
She blinked, uncertain why she'd thought that. Well, unless they had mind readers, it didn't matter. She typically didn't mention her surname at all, given how often she would be asked what kind of name it was, or what it meant.
Bucher. Pronounced Booshay. A wood-house; pile of wood; pyre; funeral-pile.
Yeah, that wasn't really something she wanted to dwell on just then. If he bought the college student line - and it was true, he'd know that if only because she'd been able to give it as an answer with his damned drug pumping through her veins - he'd next ask who she was working for. Trickier, but perhaps she could claim to be working with Jarod? That was also more or less true, and she didn't think he'd buy that she was working for The Centre, even though she technically had been-
I am an agent of the United States government, and a member of the D.E.B.S.
O...kay, this was not even remotely good. If she couldn't even lie to herself in her own head, then she'd never be able to do so aloud. Which meant that the drug had well and truly taken effect, and that meant that it had to have been close to ten minutes already. She sighed, wishing she'd at least had a chance to say goodbye to her friends before she'd gotten on the plane. Because she'd rather kill herself then tell him anything.
She was slightly heartened by the lack of any traitorous refutals of that in the back of her head. She also wondered what Max would think, when she learned of this. She'd be hurt that someone she considered a friend was gone, true, but would there be anything more? They didn't even have a relationship, didn't even really have anything beyond the daytime equivalent of a one-night stand.
I'd like to try, though.
The thought startled her, but she had little time to dwell on it before the door to her room opened again, admitting White. Oddly enough, the lights in the corridor behind him were dimmed, and there was a periodic red flash, as if...
She inhaled sharply. As if there was an alarm going off! And the only thing that she could think of that would cause that was a rescue attempt. If she could just hold on a little longer...
He shut the door behind him, cutting off the mildly encouraging view. "Are you ready to talk now?"
She told him, in French, to go choke on his own excrement.
His eyebrows raised. "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but I'll take that as a 'yes'. Let's get down to business."
This time she said that she would rather cut his head off with a penknife. He looked mildly frustrated, which, given his earlier expressionless mask, she took to indicate that she was really annoying him. Good.
She thought she might just have hit on a winning strategy. If she ignored his questions completely and just kept insulting and/or threatening him, eventually the drug would wear off. Sure, he could just reinject her, but it would buy time, which was what she needed most if a rescue attempt was, in fact, underway.
"Be quiet," he told her firmly. Her mouth snapped shut as if on a spring.
Merde. So it wasn't just a truth serum, but also a compliance drug? Well... that, as Janet might have said, really sucked.
"You're going to tell me what I want to know, now," he informed her. "Do you understand?"
Of course she understood. She understood that she was in a LOT of trouble, and everything Amy and the D.E.B.S. had been working towards for four years was in dire jeoperdy just because she'd gotten careless and overconfident. Though, in all fairness, there had been zero indication that anything was amiss, or at least that anyone had any hint that she wasn't who she claimed she was.
"Tell me you understand."
"I... understand..." she ground out, the words being forced from her despite her best efforts.
"Good. Now, tell me-"
That was as far as he got. So intent were they on her interrogation, neither had noticed that the door had reopened behind White.
Dominique did, however, notice when his head disappeared in a red cloud, bursting open like an overripe fruit and spraying blood, bone fragments, and pieces of his brain all over. Thankfully, her mouth opened in shock after she was splattered by the gore.
As his now headless body dropped to the ground, and her ears recovered from the near-deafening report that had to come from a heavy-caliber Magnum of some kind, she caught sight of the figure standing in the door.
It was hard to make out features in the dim light in the hall, but the lithe, graceful curves indicated that whoever it was, she was clearly female. Then she stepped into the room, and Dominique had the crazy thought that maybe she'd been safer with the Triumvirate people.
The dark-skinned woman looked down at her with such a dispassionate, pitiless gaze that there was only one person she could be. "You're Kali," she said, telling herself that her voice only shook because of the drug.
That isn't true.
Shut up, she told the annoying voice. Just shut up.
Kali inclined her head in agreement, then stooped down near White's corpse, and, heedless of the carnage she'd just created, searched him until she found the key for Dominique's restraints. And evidently even the cold-blooded killing machine couldn't resist some lines when the perfect situation came up, because once she'd freed Dominique from the chair she stood, held out a hand, and with the barest trace of a smile said only one thing.
"Come with me if you want to live."
**********************************************
Amy sat in the hospital director's office, looking as calm and relaxed on the outside as she did NOT feel on the inside. She hated having to be away from Lucy so soon, and for who knew how long, but it couldn't have been avoided.
Jarod had, thankfully, agreed to go attempt and rescue Dominique, and after a conversation with the higher-ups in the D.E.B.S., had gone off to do just that. But he had been in the middle of something important in Des Moines, and it wasn't fair to just expect him to simply drop that just because she'd asked him to. So she'd volunteered to take his place.
It was almost refreshing, in a way. So long had her skills been used in either espionage or assassination, that a chance to just be a normal Pretender was certainly welcome. Granted, that meant she'd still have to deal with at least one killer, and it was certainly possible that Parker and her team would show up during their pursuit of Jarod, but in comparison to some of the other threats she'd faced in the past, those two were almost laughable.
Besides, she'd already demonstrated that The Centre's minions couldn't harm her. So she'd gathered up everything she thought she might conceivably need, reskimmed any medical texts that she hadn't read in a while (not that she'd forgotten anything, but some of them had been republished with new information), and set up an appointment to talk with the administrator about taking over for "Doctor Jenner".
Then she'd called Kali.
She'd made a show of turning off her comm first, so that Lucy would know she hadn't been lying to her before when she'd said she had no idea how to get in touch with the assassin. They'd developed a few alternate means of communication back during their Centre days, and now that she actually knew that someone else from Pantheon was alive and would be able to get any messages, she'd quickly blown the figurative dust off of one. Fortunately, Kali had already been in Africa, preparing to strike against the Triumvirate. Rescuing Dominique might complicate that a little, but only to a negligible degree, while having plenty of positive effects.
For which Amy was very thankful, because she was under no illusions that Kali would have agreed to do it out of the kindness of her own heart.
She was just glad that Lucy had understood. She hadn't been thrilled that Amy had had to leave so soon, either, but Amy had promised to make it up to her. And it was for a good cause.
Phillip Jenkins, age thirty-five, husband and father of three. He'd come in for a routine appendectomy, only to suffer a series of suspicious "complications" that had spiraled out of control, until he lay dead on the table in front of a baffled team of surgeons.
Ordinarily, she would have instantly investigated the performing surgeon, a doctor Willis Jake (temporarily on leave during the hospital's investigation as a precautionary measure - Jarod had actually taken his place), but evidently Jarod had already talked to him, and seemed to think he was innocent. The frustrating thing was that until she figured out just what had actually happened to Mr. Jenkins, she couldn't narrow down the list of those who could have been responsible. And since she was, technically, being brought in to replace the man who'd replaced one of their trusted colleagues, she wasn't sure how much cooperation she would get from the rest of the staff.
Dr. O'Neil ("That's with one 'L'"), the administrator, didn't much seem to care if she was accepted or not, just if she knew her stuff. By the end of her interview he'd seemed to be satisfied, and asked when she could start. Naturally, she'd been ready to start immediately, but if she was going to be taking Jarod's shifts, she had a few more hours to wait.
That was fine with her. It would give her a chance to go back to Jarod's rented apartment and go over his notes. If she could figure out who he'd already considered and rejected, she might save herself a bit of time.
And anything was better then just sitting around and worrying about Dom.
**********************************************
"Why are you helping me?" Dominique asked as Kali helped her to her feet and supported her as they walked out of the room.
"You're of much more use to me undercover in The Centre," Kali replied flatly, not even seeming to notice the three other bodies in the hallway unless she had to steer them around one.
Dominique didn't have that luxury, and winced at the looks of terror on their faces... the two that still had faces, anyway. She was actually grateful that White hadn't given her anything to eat even during the plane ride, because she would have lost it by now. "What do you know about that?"
"Probably more then you do."
She huffed. "I do not think-"
"No, you obviously don't," Kali interrupted. "There were other ways that you could have found out where the Triumvirate was based, Dominique. This was foolish."
She couldn't really disagree with that - she wanted to, but the drug still in her veins wouldn't let her - and something else caught her attention first. "How do you know my name?"
"Se- Amy told me."
And that raised a whole new batch of questions, but those could wait until they were safely out of there. Ideally, they could wait until she was face-to-face with Amy, with Kali long gone. "Where are we going?"
"Express elevator to the surface. It's the fastest way, and will let us avoid the gas."
"Gas?"
"This floor operates with its own separate life-support systems. Ironically, it was intended so that, in case of prisoner escape, just this floor could be gassed, while the rest of the complex was unaffected. Reversing that was a simple matter."
"So you hit everyone else with sleeping gas?" Well, that would make things much easier.
Kali shook her head. "Sarin."
Dominique stumbled in mid-step. "You what?!"
Kali heartlessly tugged her along until she had recovered her balance. "You say that as if you think I routinely carry around massive tanks of sarin gas. It was theirs. I just used it."
Dominique got the feeling that she wasn't defending herself so much as she was clarifying a point. If she had brought the sarin herself and used it, she probably would have readily admitted it. "You... you're..."
"I am what they made me," she said as they reached the elevator and she swiped a security card through the reader. "Nothing less. In a very real sense, they did this to themselves."
And while she may have thought there was a certain poetic justice to it all, this was still horrifying. "How many?" Dominique asked, leaning against the back wall as the elevator began moving upwards. "How many were there?"
Kali studied her for a moment, then replied, "I don't think you really want to know, do you?"
"No," she admitted before she could stop herself. "But I feel like I should." It had to be in the hundreds, at least, she realized, her stomach churning.
"There were no innocents here. In fact, many of the higher ranking Triumvirate members that had recently arrived had done so because of you, to witness your torture and questioning firsthand. I suppose I should thank you for that; it would have been much harder to get them all, otherwise. Not a single person here so much as lifted a finger to help you. They would have squeezed every possible bit of information out of you, then tortured you more, just for fun, then finally killed you and disposed of your body like so much trash. Do you really think I was wrong to kill them?"
Of course she did, she wanted to say. She was a government agent, she couldn't just sanction casual mass-murder. But no sooner had she opened her mouth to say so then she again said, "No."
A flicker of surprise crossed Kali's face. "That must be one hell of a drug they gave you. Pity you don't really have any information I might want." Dominique had a moment to feel relief before she added, "Except for one thing." She tensed back up. "What do you know about the relationship between Amy and Lucy Diamond?"
Dominique blinked. "What?"
"You heard me."
"Oui, but why do you wish to know-"
"Because I do." A faint look of annoyance ghosted across her face. "Now answer the question."
Dominique tried to fight the compulsion, but again failed. "I know zey are involved, and zat it must be serious for them to have each taken the risks that they have for ze other."
Kali was silent for a moment. "So Diamond loves her, too, then?"
Love? Amy was in love? "It would not surprise me."
Kali again fell silent, making Dominique wonder just what it was that she was thinking about, what had prompted this line of questioning.
And just how far down she'd been, because the elevator was moving along at a fair clip, and they still weren't at the surface yet.
They must have finally been getting close, though, because Kali abruptly snapped back to reality. "I couldn't take care of many of the guards on the surface without running the risk of someone discovering me and what I was doing," she said. "So while there shouldn't be too many of them, we are going to have to fight our way out."
"Oh... joy."
Kali actually smiled. "That's the spirit."
Dominique got the depressing feeling that she was serious.
Kali threw Dominique's right arm back over her shoulder, pulled out a gun, and dragged her forward the second the doors started to open. There was only one guard in sight, and he'd been facing away from them until the ding of the elevator. Kali barely spared him a look before she shot him.
Absently, Dominique wondered if this was a different gun, or if she'd just blinked and missed Kali putting a silencer on it.
A second guard jumped out at them from behind a pile of crates, making Dominique take notice of their surroundings for the first time. This building was probably just used as camouflage in case of visitors. It was dressed up as some kind of storage area, with a couple of trucks in varying states of disrepair, as if they were in the middle of maintenance. She wondered if any work was ever done on they beyond occasionally dusting them off.
As she wondered, Kali slipped out from under her arm, deflected the guard's clumsy attack, slammed the butt of her gun into his head knocking him back several steps, then shot him in the face - which, Silencer or not, was messy - and was back under her arm before she could do more then wobble a bit.
The next two attacked in conjunction, and Kali swung around to kick one away. She twirled around fast enough, in fact, to take Dominique with her, and Dominique caught on just in time to add as much force of her own - which wasn't much - to make the kick that caught the second one across the jaw that much harder. They were both taken down with headshots in rapid succession. "Kali?" she managed to pant out as they continued across the rapidly shrinking floor space.
"Yes?"
"Ze plan?"
Kali raised an eyebrow as they approached another pile of crates near one of the big doors. As she looked for the button to raise it - making Dom wonder just how she'd gotten in - she replied, "According to Amy, Jarod should be getting here any- duck." This was said with no particular urgency or visible provocation, but still Kali fell to one knee, taking Dom down with her.
A series of shots punched through the air where their heads had just been into one of the crates. Kali absently aimed her gun behind them without bothering to look and fired three quick shots. There was a shout of pain, a loud chittering as the gunman squeezed the trigger inadvertently, though the shots ended up nowhere near them, then there was silence, broken only by the sound of yet another body hitting the ground. "Any minute," she finished. She dragged Dominique behind the crates, setting her down on the ground.
For the French girl's sake, Jarod had better get there soon. While it would be a waste to go through all of this just to let her die, and she had been serious about the benefits of her infiltration of The Centre continuing, there would eventually come a point where the costs outweighed the good that would come of it.
Or more simply put, she was not worth dying for.
**********************************************
Kathleen winced as she adjusted the sling around her neck, trying to keep her cast-covered arm as still as possible. The doctors had done what they could, but she knew they were overwhelmed at the moment, and could only do enough to make sure she was stabilized. Further work on reknitting the bones in her arm.
It was a good thing she was right-handed, she decided.
With a sigh, she leaned back in her chair. The Imfirmary was finally starting to quiet down, with most visitors being kicked out to let the patients that needed to stay overnight - or longer - sleep, but so far she'd escaped notice. Or maybe it was just that no one had the heart to ask her to leave Monica's side. Their other two squad-mates had been by to check on her - well, on both of them, she supposed - and had even taken a moment to sign Kathleen's cast.
She thought that maybe the doctors weren't too upset. They probably would have wanted her to stay, but they'd begun to run out of beds, which was rather depressing. There was only one left over, and rumor was that it was being kept open for Dominique, who was allegedly being rescued from some bad guys. Who was doing the rescuing was a popular subject of debate, given that most of her team was either indisposed (she could see Max's bed from where she was), helping strengthen their defenses (though what Amy would know about computers was anyone's guess), or too busy trying to keep things running smoothly around the Academy (which was probably just something to keep Janet too busy to freak out, or something). Some people said Amy had finished her work already and left, but no one could seem to confirm that.
She barely cared. But she had nonetheless been continuing to relay all of that to Monica, speaking as quietly as she could while still able to be heard. The doctors had said that it might help, after all, and that studies showed that people in comas could often hear what was being said to them. It was such an ingrained habit to talk to Monica about anything and everything, though, that she probably would have done it regardless. She took a sip of water from one of the glasses on the small table next to Monica's bed to soothe her increasingly sore throat and paused. She was slowly but surely running out of things to say, but the thought of leaving Monica alone in silence, of giving up, for some reason brought her near the edge of panic. Monica wouldn't want her to exhaust herself - or injure herself - just to keep her company, but...
She couldn't help herself. "Wake up," she finally pleaded quietly. "Please wake up." For three years they'd been inseparable, no matter what fresh hell had been tossed at them. There had even been vague - very, very vague, not to mention completely unconfirmed - mutterings about them replacing the current members of Sector 1 next year. But for that to happen, Monica had to wake up.
She reached out with her free hand and squeezed Monica's, not even noticing the tears that had - again - started to fall. "Please don't leave me," she begged, voice breaking. "I can't do this alone." She really didn't care who would say what anymore.
She wept.
**********************************************
It had taken seemingly forever for the truck he'd stowed away in to reach the Triumvirate facility. Jarod could understand why they needed transfer points. Otherwise, vehicles would run out of gas on the way to or from there. Rather then begin unloading right away, though, the two men from the cab began shouting about something, and were quickly silenced by gunfire.
As if to emphasize that all wasn't well, something exploded.
Cautiously, he edged to the doors of the truck and opened one a crack. He winced as he caught sight of the body of one of the drivers several feet away. Single shot, right to the heart. There was more gunfire off in the distance, as if there was a war going on.
And from the sounds of it, they were losing.
There didn't seem to be anyone in sight, but he had no idea how long it would stay that way. There was another explosion, much more muted this time, and he recognized the sound as a smoke grenade. The gunfire became more erratic as the gunmen seemingly lost track of their target. Most of the noise sounded like it was coming from concrete structure closest to him, an idea further supported by the smoke that was beginning to seep out of the rapidly rising door. Well, Amy had said she would try to recruit additional help in rescuing Dominique. This certainly seemed to fit the bill as far as that was concerned.
Taking a chance, he dashed over to the building, flattened himself against the wall, then quickly darted around the corner, through the door, and inside.
Almost immediately, there was a gun pressed up against his head.
After a beat, there was a vaguely disappointed, "Oh. It's you." Whoever it was sighed, and lowered her gun. "What kept you?"
"Blame the guys driving," he said cautiously, turning to squint at her through the hazy air. Fighting down a sudden urge to cough, he felt a by now familiar thrill of shocked recognition. "I remember you. Kali, right?" In retrospect, he knew he probably shouldn't have been as surprised as he was. After all, if Amy was still alive, why not her, too?
"Yeah. Can we save the reunion for later, though?" She disappeared behind a stack of crates for a moment, then reappeared nearly carrying a weakly coughing Asian girl that had to be the missing Dominique. "We have to go. Now."
Dominique muttered something in French, then quietly asked, "What 'ave you done now?"
Ignoring the question, Kali shoved her at Jarod, withdrew a second gun from nowhere that he could ascertain, and turned to face the smoke-filled room. "Are the keys still in that truck out there?"
Dominique was growing too weak to stand, whatever exertions she'd undertaken before he got there evidently growing to be too much for her, so he just scooped her up into his arms. "I'm not sure."
"Do you think you could find out?" There was a fair trace of acid in the question, and she punctuated it by firing off a shot into the smoke.
There was a thud as something - or someone - hit the ground.
Deciding not to waste time by answering, he carried Dominique outside and over to the truck, opening the passenger side door and carefully putting her inside. From there he could see that the keys were indeed still in the ignition. "We're good to go!" he shouted, moving around to the driver's side and getting in. There was a sudden increase of gunfire, then the sound of running feet, and the passenger door opened again to show Kali finishing tucking her guns away, moving Dominique over with surprising gentleness, then getting in and closing the door. "Go," she said flatly.
Jarod didn't really need further encouragement, starting the engine and peeling out just as Kali finished belting herself and Dominique in. "We're not going to make it back to the transfer station," he warned.
"We don't have to. There's a privately owned airstrip not far from here. Where you landed, actually." This was obviously directed at Dominique. She looked at Jarod. "Think you could fly a Concorde? It should be done refueling by now, and I know you have flight experience."
He gave that serious consideration. "Probably," he decided. "You want to fly their own airplane back?"
"Good. And yes. It'll help support the illusion that they didn't find anything wrong with her and sent her back to continue doing the task that they sent her to The Centre for in the first place." She looked back at Dominique, who more or less focused back at her. "Your bag should still be on the plane, as well as some medical supplies, so we should be able to get you cleaned up once we're in the air. And then you can figure out what you're going to do with this." She took something out of a pocket and held it up.
Dominique blinked. "My comm? Where did you-?"
"I had to do a bit of looking around before I found you." She put it back in her pocket, then took out something else.
"What makes you think they won't catch up with us before we can get there?" Jarod asked, keeping one eye on the mirror to make sure they weren't being followed. Which they thusfar weren't, but who knew how long that would last?
"Trust me, they won't," she replied with a faint smile, then pressed something on the object in her hand.
There was a sudden flare of light behind them, soon followed by a boom that shook the truck.
Kali gave a satisfied sigh as she put the remote detonator away. "Don't you just love C-4?"
"Imbécile," Dominique muttered, leaning back into the seat and closing her eyes. Who the statement was directed at, exactly, was unknown.
**********************************************
Amy frowned in concentration as she looked down at the notebook on the table in front of her. The apartment was decorated in the typically spartan appearance that most of Jarod's hiding places enjoyed, with just the bare essentials in furniture. Ordinarily, there would also be a DSA player, complete with a large cache of DSA discs, but since Jarod understandably couldn't just leave those unattended for who knew how long, they'd been relocated to the D.E.B.S. academy for safekeeping for the duration of the emergency. All that was left to show he'd been there at all was the notebook he'd been keeping (complete with cut out newspaper articles), several pez dispensers (which he assured her that she could help herself to), and a Mr. Potato Head.
Honestly, she didn't even want to know about that last one. Those things had always freaked her out a little, for some reason she'd never quite been able to grasp.
Jarod had narrowed the list of suspects down to six. Unfortunately, his notes didn't let her narrow it down any further. Not that she'd really expected it to be that easy, but it still would have been nice.
Suspect #1) Dr. Elliot O'Neil ("That's O'Neil with one 'L'"), the administrator. Allegedly had a gambling habit. If Dr. Jake found out about that reported him, he would run the risk of losing his VERY well paying job, as well as the status it afforded him.
Suspect #2) Mike Halsey, assisting surgeon. Constantly critical of Dr. Jake, he was the first to point the finger when Jenkins died. Unfortunately, Jarod hadn't been able to turn up any evidence he'd done anything wrong.
Suspect #3) Carol Fairbairn, attending nurse. She seemed to be on the list just because she was in the room, but that didn't mean Amy could discount her.
Suspect #4) Dennis Gower, resident surgeon. Freshly out of medical school, he was reportedly very ambitious, and a sudden opening in the surgical staff would allow him to rapidly rise through the ranks.
Suspect #5) Lee Hoffman, patient. According to witnesses, he'd threatened Mr. Jenkins during his admission. Hoffman had been high on a number of drugs at the time, though, and had been restrained later on. Still, it was possible he'd either slipped his leash during Jenkins' operation and done... something, or that the whole thing had been staged.
Suspect #6) Regina Roorback, desk clerk. She didn't seem to like anyone, and was rumored to have slashed Dr. Jake's tires once. Unfortunately, no one seemed to have any idea why, and nothing was ever proven.
She sighed and closed the notebook. No getting around it, then. She was going to have to do this the hard way, and go undercover. Ordinarily, that wouldn't have bothered her at all (and from a purely mental point of view it didn't now, as doing so was second nature to her now... almost first, really), but just then she sorely resented the entire situation for taking her away from Lucy.
But looking at the photo of Phillip Jenkins' family in the newspaper article... She couldn't walk away now. Those three children had just lost their father, and dammit, she was going to find out why.
Just as soon as she threw that malformed potato thing out the window so it wouldn't stare at her anymore.
**********************************************
Dominique buried a wince as the nurse removed the IV from her arm. She felt much better now that the drug had been cleansed from her system and she'd had something to eat, but they still wanted to keep her there for overnight observation.
That was just fine by her, really. She needed time to decompress, and process everything that had happened. After that, she would speak to her superiors about her reinsertion into The Centre.
Maybe it might seem insane to some that she would want to go back after what she'd just been through, but the whole point of going through it had been so that she could go back. Because her job wasn't done, yet.
It was like what Kali had said to her on the plane as she cleaned her up to the best of her ability - and become one of the very, very few people that Dominique could honestly say did not arouse her even remotely while running their hands over her body; Kali's touch had been almost painfully emotionless and clinical - and she'd asked her why she was doing all this: "You get a job, you do the job, and you do it right."
Kali had, understandably, declined her half-hearted invitation to accompany them back to the D.E.B.S. academy, instead vanishing into the crowd upon touchdown at LAX. If anyone at The Centre asked why 'Diabolique' had gone to L.A. first instead of flying back to Blue Cove, she would tell them that she'd been ordered to check up on Sekhmet before she did anything else. Hopefully, no one would discover that Amy wasn't actually there at all.
She waited until the nurse had left the room, then carefully slid off the bed and levered herself to her feet. Her legs still felt like they had the consistency of tapioca, but she managed to make it several beds down to where Max lay, then collapsed gratefully into a chair on the left side of the bed. The only other D.E.B. doing something similar was a girl she thought was named Kathleen who'd fallen asleep in her chair, holding her teammate's hand. Very sweet, she decided.
Jarod would at least be sticking around for a while, which would no doubt relieve Amy once she got back. And the chances anyone from The Centre would notice were exceedingly slim. Selfishly, she was glad, because that meant that Petrie and Phipps would be debriefing him about the events in Africa first. She'd already filled them in on the basics over the comm, then for a little while before the medical staff had chased everyone who didn't have to be there out - for which she was grateful, because Janet's hugs had threatened to dislodge the IV.
"Hey," a voice said softly. She blinked, not having noticed that Max had woken up. "'ello," she replied just as quietly.
"Heard you had a bit of a rough time."
"You could say that." Really, it was all she could do to keep from climbing into the bed and joining Max, and not even for sex. She just needed physical contact. Comfort.
Despite how badly she knew it would surprise the nurses in the morning.
"Sorry."
"For what? You could not have prevented it. Though I perhaps could have, by being more careful."
"I would have done the same thing."
Which was Max-speak for 'you did the right thing', she knew. Dominique nearly smiled. "I do not wish to seem that I am glad you failed in your attempts to stop Kali, because I have seen the damage she did. But... It is ironic that, if you had, I might well be dead now, no?"
Max gave a short, humorless laugh. It was more of a huff, really. "Trust me, I'm well aware of the irony. And the fact that if it weren't for her, I could have come for you myself, with significantly smaller body count."
Dominique shrugged. "I am not happy about it, either. However, what is done is done. They are the ones who made her into a weapon." Yet Amy was the one who pulled the trigger. It was the one thing that she'd left out of her report, and she'd made Jarod promise not to mention it, either. As far as anyone else was concerned, Kali had only known she was there because she intercepted a Centre communication that had mentioned that fact. She wanted to talk with Amy first before she decided whether or not to change that story.
God, she needed a cigarette. Or an orgasm. Or something, dammit! Giving up, she performed the herculean task of getting out of the chair and climbing up onto the bed to lay next to Max.
Who, naturally, was somewhat surprised by this. "What the hell are you doing?"
Dominique silenced her with a kiss. "We must speak of this later," she said, noting with dismay that Max had suddenly tensed up.
Well, that wouldn't do at all. Max needed to be more relaxed if she was going to heal. Dominique trailed her fingers over Max's thigh, listening to the sharp inhalation of breath. "Vous êtes trop tendu," she informed her. "Vous devez détendre."
"What?" Max asked, eyes widening as Dominique's fingers moved further up her leg with a feather-light touch, vanishing under the hospital gown that was all Max was wearing. She gasped loudly as Dominique's questing digits found their destination.
"Vous avez besoin de cet puis I," Dominique assured her, settling into a steady rythem that she knew from experience should make quick work of Max. Not something she usually did with her lovers, but this was a unique situation. And indeed, already Max was fighting down a moan.
With a smile, Dominique flexed her fingers upward, and Max's body quickly followed suit, nearly leaving the bed completely. Dominique seized Max's lips with her own, and Max moaned into her mouth. Thankfully, that muffled it enough that she didn't wake anyone up. Several more rapid-fire moans followed, then what might have become a scream if it had been allowed. Max collapsed down on the bed, limp with exhaustion.
And, Dominique noted with pride, an utter lack of tension. She cuddled up next to Max, waving off the latter's vague attempts to insinuate that she wanted to return the favor. "C'était pour toi. Je garderai pour maintenant." Finally, taking pity on Max's confused expression, she added, "Go to sleep, now. I will be here when you wake up." She laid her head down on the pillow next to Max's and closed her eyes. After a moment's uncertainty, Max did the same.
They did, in fact, surprise the nurses.
________________________________________________________________________
Wow, that wrote a lot faster then I expected. I hope everyone liked it (and that the ending wasn't too explicit, as I tried to be careful about that). If I made any mistakes on the French translations, keep in mind that I speak no French at all, and thus was relying on an online translator. So if there are any grammatical errors, I apologize.
Next time - "Dr. Bradshaw" zeros in on the killer, while 'Diabolique' begins implementing a new strategy in getting closer to Sekhmet - seducing a certain D.E.B.S. team leader.