34 : Meet Your Maker
Friday morning for Stark could easily have been eleven years earlier. She walked into the Criminal Investigations Division, back to the desk opposite her partner's (easily recognizable by the Baltimore Orioles desk caddy Victor had bought her years ago), and folded her jacket over the back of her chair.
"There's a sight for sore eyes," her partner said with an honest smile.
She smiled back at him. "Thank you. I missed you too. Can you catch me up on whatever it is you're working on?"
"Sure. But I think the principal wants to see you in his office," John said.
She rolled her eyes. "Very funny," she replied, but she had expected this. She nodded slightly, soberly. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Stark crossed the room to the open door of the Special Agent In Charge's office, and knocked.
Vince McCall jerked his head up when she entered. He was also sans jacket, in a neatly pressed dress shirt with a bold tie. The first impression Stark had of him was that he was smaller than she expected; once he moved away from the desk she figured him for about five-ten. Dark-haired, with one of those 'either disarming or misleading' smiles, he eyed her for a long moment as if trying to figure out who she was.
"Agent Patrick, sir," she said with the barest hint of a smile. "I was told you wanted to see me."
"Yeah. Yes, I did. Please, come in," he replied, watching her as she stepped into the office and shut the door behind her. "Agent Keller told me about your...unique situation. I have to say I respect someone who's that committed to another person. I'm sure my wife would appreciate it." A dry laugh escaped his lips. "I only hope you're half as committed to your work as you are to your partner."
"There won't be any doubt about that, Assistant Director," she assured him. "I..."
"...You can call me Vince," he interjected.
"Vince," she corrected. "I'm sure Agent Keller told you that what...missteps are on my personal record were a result of deliberately sabotaging myself to gain the required transfer, and not because of my own misconduct."
"He did explain that to me, yes. It was why I've agreed to have you here, as long as he takes responsibility for it. You understand, I have to cover my own ass to a degree," he explained.
She laughed, a little startled. "At least you're honest about it."
That was more than she would have expected from his predecessor. Deputy Director Kara Exstead had been Stark's boss on her first trip through Criminal Investigations. She had been much more formal and much more of a bureaucrat, which was how she had risen to the post of Deputy Director. Exstead had always been the boss, rather than trying to be everyone's friend. She had always been fair, at least, in that she had sussed out Stark's plan to self-demote pretty quickly, and though she'd tipped the young agent off to the fact that she knew, had given and kept her word that she wouldn't stand in the way.
"Isn't really any other way I know how to do business, Miss Patrick. Do you mind if I call you Stark?" McCall asked, rifling through more papers on his desk.
She shook her head. "I don't mind at all, sir. Is there anything I should know...?"
"No, there's nothing significant going on right now. I just wanted to get to meet you if you're going to be working in my department. Set the record straight between what I've heard and what's the truth."
"Well I appreciate the consideration, sir." She eyed him. "If you don't mind, where are you from?" Because she knew they didn't turn out bosses like this anywhere that she had ever worked, which wasn't saying much.
"Miami."
"Hmm." Now it sort of clicked into place. "Sun, sand, surf..."
"...Plastic, Geritol, humidity." He waved a dismissive hand as he gathered his paperwork. "Not that I'm knocking it. Because I'm not. But it isn't exactly the beachfront paradise that everyone makes it out to be. It's hot, the women are mostly plastic, and the beaches are packed with retirees."
"Not exactly someplace I'd ever considered for a vacation spot, but I'll keep that in mind." Stark had to laugh.
"Do that." McCall moved for the door, nodding for her to follow. "Where do you vacation?"
"I...don't, actually. The last one I took was probably years ago. I can't honestly remember." Which was the truth. It hadn't been while she was on the X-Files, so it had been at least eight years. And she imagined it had probably been completely unspectacular, or she would have remembered it.
"You should take one. Anywhere but Miami."
"I'll talk to my partner about that, sir."
"You can stop calling me that any time. And you might want to take him, too. I'm not sure he's had one either." McCall turned then, and handed her a file. "I've prepared you a briefing on some of the recent happenings around here. If you need anything else, let me know. Otherwise, you do your job, I'll do mine, and everything's fine, we clear?"
"Like crystal. Thank you." Tucking the file under her arm, she made her way back toward her desk, shaking her head. She tossed it on the desk and leaned back into her chair, eyeing John. "That guy...is a real piece of work."
"Yeah, he is." He just laughed at the look on her face. "But he stays out of my way and he isn't trying to hug me, so I don't complain."
She chuckled. "I don't think I will either. So. Where do we start?"
"There's a sight for sore eyes," her partner said with an honest smile.
She smiled back at him. "Thank you. I missed you too. Can you catch me up on whatever it is you're working on?"
"Sure. But I think the principal wants to see you in his office," John said.
She rolled her eyes. "Very funny," she replied, but she had expected this. She nodded slightly, soberly. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Stark crossed the room to the open door of the Special Agent In Charge's office, and knocked.
Vince McCall jerked his head up when she entered. He was also sans jacket, in a neatly pressed dress shirt with a bold tie. The first impression Stark had of him was that he was smaller than she expected; once he moved away from the desk she figured him for about five-ten. Dark-haired, with one of those 'either disarming or misleading' smiles, he eyed her for a long moment as if trying to figure out who she was.
"Agent Patrick, sir," she said with the barest hint of a smile. "I was told you wanted to see me."
"Yeah. Yes, I did. Please, come in," he replied, watching her as she stepped into the office and shut the door behind her. "Agent Keller told me about your...unique situation. I have to say I respect someone who's that committed to another person. I'm sure my wife would appreciate it." A dry laugh escaped his lips. "I only hope you're half as committed to your work as you are to your partner."
"There won't be any doubt about that, Assistant Director," she assured him. "I..."
"...You can call me Vince," he interjected.
"Vince," she corrected. "I'm sure Agent Keller told you that what...missteps are on my personal record were a result of deliberately sabotaging myself to gain the required transfer, and not because of my own misconduct."
"He did explain that to me, yes. It was why I've agreed to have you here, as long as he takes responsibility for it. You understand, I have to cover my own ass to a degree," he explained.
She laughed, a little startled. "At least you're honest about it."
That was more than she would have expected from his predecessor. Deputy Director Kara Exstead had been Stark's boss on her first trip through Criminal Investigations. She had been much more formal and much more of a bureaucrat, which was how she had risen to the post of Deputy Director. Exstead had always been the boss, rather than trying to be everyone's friend. She had always been fair, at least, in that she had sussed out Stark's plan to self-demote pretty quickly, and though she'd tipped the young agent off to the fact that she knew, had given and kept her word that she wouldn't stand in the way.
"Isn't really any other way I know how to do business, Miss Patrick. Do you mind if I call you Stark?" McCall asked, rifling through more papers on his desk.
She shook her head. "I don't mind at all, sir. Is there anything I should know...?"
"No, there's nothing significant going on right now. I just wanted to get to meet you if you're going to be working in my department. Set the record straight between what I've heard and what's the truth."
"Well I appreciate the consideration, sir." She eyed him. "If you don't mind, where are you from?" Because she knew they didn't turn out bosses like this anywhere that she had ever worked, which wasn't saying much.
"Miami."
"Hmm." Now it sort of clicked into place. "Sun, sand, surf..."
"...Plastic, Geritol, humidity." He waved a dismissive hand as he gathered his paperwork. "Not that I'm knocking it. Because I'm not. But it isn't exactly the beachfront paradise that everyone makes it out to be. It's hot, the women are mostly plastic, and the beaches are packed with retirees."
"Not exactly someplace I'd ever considered for a vacation spot, but I'll keep that in mind." Stark had to laugh.
"Do that." McCall moved for the door, nodding for her to follow. "Where do you vacation?"
"I...don't, actually. The last one I took was probably years ago. I can't honestly remember." Which was the truth. It hadn't been while she was on the X-Files, so it had been at least eight years. And she imagined it had probably been completely unspectacular, or she would have remembered it.
"You should take one. Anywhere but Miami."
"I'll talk to my partner about that, sir."
"You can stop calling me that any time. And you might want to take him, too. I'm not sure he's had one either." McCall turned then, and handed her a file. "I've prepared you a briefing on some of the recent happenings around here. If you need anything else, let me know. Otherwise, you do your job, I'll do mine, and everything's fine, we clear?"
"Like crystal. Thank you." Tucking the file under her arm, she made her way back toward her desk, shaking her head. She tossed it on the desk and leaned back into her chair, eyeing John. "That guy...is a real piece of work."
"Yeah, he is." He just laughed at the look on her face. "But he stays out of my way and he isn't trying to hug me, so I don't complain."
She chuckled. "I don't think I will either. So. Where do we start?"