FIC: Hijink (DWP, Miranda/Andy, Get Smart 99/Max) 11/14
Title: Hijink 11/14
Author: Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada / Get Smart Movie (Cross-over)
Pairing: Miranda/Andy, 99/Max, 99/Miranda
Spoilers: Both movies
Archiving: Eventually it'll show up at my own woefully outdated archive
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Summary: Worlds collide when Agent 99 and Maxwell Smart chase Rogue Agent 23 to a charity auction, and discover the inspiration for Agent 99's new face: Andy. Now, a case of mistaken identity has Andrea kidnapped, Max befuddled, and Miranda Priestly pissed off.
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CHAPTERS
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen
--
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PART ELEVEN: Sugar, We're Going Down
Tut, tut, child! Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it.
- Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
It wasn't that Emily didn't consider morality. She knew there were people who were inherently 'good' and people who were inherently 'bad'. At the very least, she understood that there were two extremes, but to be honest…
Emily never really understood the fuss about morality.
Between black and white were all the colors of the rainbow, and if there was a reason why Emily loved fashion, it was because she loved color.
The idea of a villain and a hero… it all seemed so superficial and pointless to her. What mattered weren't morals but deeds, and by deeds, she meant success.
And the world was painted with hypocrites regardless. People like Andy Sachs, who thought they were such saints, but swept into her office with her fat clothes and horrid hair and stole her job and her place, and more than that, stole Miranda Priestly.
Added to these charges was almost certainly murder. The jury was out as to whether or not Andy and her stupid face would actually get Emily killed, because although Dwayne had yet to kill her, he had made the threat with enough blasé carelessness that led Emily to believe he was capable of it.
Was it odd to enjoy the company of the man who would murder you?
Was this when morals would have been a useful thing to have?
It occurred to Emily that she was thinking about this all a little late in the game, but in her defense, she had, after all, been knocked out by an Andy Doppelganger, been tied up and left in a closet, been kidnapped, forced to do accounting and expenses, and on top of all that discovered that Andy Sachs had been carrying on with Miranda Priestly for months, claimed to love her, and the entire outside world knew about it.
Her role as a hostage had long since been muddled with hysteria, hunger, blind fury and sex, and in the wake of actually eating something and having some of the wound up energy screwed out of her, Emily discovered herself coherent and calm in a way that seemed … abnormal.
She had her world outside. She had her life, and yet… it almost felt as if a Miranda-colored veil had been lifted, and Emily was finally seeing herself.
Ironically, it had been thanks to a sociopath who would more than likely put a bullet in her head after having opened her eyes so readily.
There was something seriously wrong with her.
She was drifting hand in hand to a security room with the killer who had just fucked her into near unconsciousness, silently moving with him as he prepared to overtake whoever it was that had gotten into his security room.
And she was doing this willingly.
"I feel like I should be telling you not to kill anyone."
The glare he sent her clearly insinuated that she shut up.
"I'm just saying!"
"And you said it," he snapped, a harsh whisper. "Now will you shut up on your own, or am I going to have to do it?"
The threat should not have been the turn on it was.
One look at his face told her he agreed.
Biting down the smirk, she quirked a challenging eyebrow, but kept quiet.
Dwayne let go of her hand and raised his gun, broad shoulders braced against the wall as he moved away from the door, taking care to keep as quiet as a mouse.
For a man of his size, she had to admit, it was impressive.
Ten feet from the door, there was a dresser which a frame on it. Gun in position, he reached for the frame with his free hand, and maneuvered it like a lever.
Emily heard a click, and with a swish an entire section of the wall slid into itself, exposing the security room.
Without hesitation, Dwayne swiveled into the room, gun pointed at the unseen intruder.
"FREEZE."
A secret entrance. And he had let her see it.
That sealed it. He would kill her. Resigned and numb about it, Emily wondered if he would allow her to kill Andy first.
Just to see what it felt like.
Because chances were they got out of this alive, and Miranda found out she had attacked her precious Andy… she was more than likely fired.
It wasn't like she had much to lose.
Sucking in a shaky breath, Emily peeked inside, ducking in just before the secret door slid shut behind her, locking her in.
Eyes widened, Emily's mouth dropped open when she discovered it was Heather, his tomboy daughter, seated in her father's chair, staring down the barrel of a gun with a look that looked to be frozen in a mixture of fear and annoyance.
"Dad? What the fuck?"
The gun did not waver, but the hardened expression on the agent's face did soften. At least for a second. "Heather?" An angry scowl stretched across the angry face. "What are you doing in here?!"
"If you didn't want me in here why the fuck did you let me have access?!"
Emily was a master of details. Years under Miranda's tutelage had not been in vain. In her oddly sated state, she found herself noticing little things that seemed to present a picture that was out of focus - incomplete. Heather, little tomboy Heather who, up until twenty or so minutes ago, had appeared careless and bored, now sported beads of sweat on her forehead. Red eyes.
When little lost eyes took in her father's state of wrinkled shirt with the lapels tucked out, the manhandled dress with the noticeable rip on Emily's shoulder, lower lips began to pout, and Emily feared she was going to be in the room for a full on tantrum.
Thankfully, they were saved from such embarrassment when Dwayne lowered his gun deliberately, sucking in a breath that she could only assume was an attempt to keep control of himself.
"My mistake," he snarled. "I was going to bring you in here eventually to teach you how to use this, but apparently, you just helped yourself."
Emily blinked at the presence of his backbone. Apparently the pep talk had worked.
"Well, what the hell did you expect me to do, Dad? You were too busy getting it on with Little Miss Tuffet over there to realize that your fucking hostages are getting away."
"What?"
A thumb was thrown to the direction of the monitors. Emily's breath caught, and she found herself conflicted and unsure what to feel when she looked upon the very real image of Andy and her spy stumbling through Dwayne's maze.
"Great spy work, Dad," Heather added idly. "Super observant. No wonder you got your face blown off."
But something had obviously clicked in his head. There was no hesitation as he moved forward, placing the gun back in his belt and turning the keyboard away from the child, typing into his own commands. "They're on the second level, right above us."
Emily came forward, arms crossed as she bit her lip and leaned forward, searching the screen he pulled up.
"Here," she said, pointing at a moving dot on what looked like a digital blueprint of the building. "It looks as if they're going in circles."
"That's Dad's plan," Heather responded drolly. "Like rats in a cage, right Pop?"
A muscle in his cheek twinged, as he glanced from monitor to child, back to the monitor. "So you came in here to find them for me. Because you thought I had lost them." He paused, thinking this through. "You were trying to help me."
The insinuation was clear, and Emily's eyes narrowed as Heather's eyes drifted away, moved to the floor, an obvious attempt by a teenager to deflect.
"Geez, Dad, relax!" Heather muttered, flushing across her cheeks. "I was just bored."
She was lying.
What was she lying about?
Before Emily could even ask, her lover and kidnapper reached forward with his massive arms and pulled his skinny daughter into such a fierce hug, he nearly choked her, making her squirm.
"That's my GIRL!" he said hoarsely, and pressed a kiss against the scruffy brown hair.
"Don't touch me," shot back the girl. Dwayne immediately let go, leaving a girl with a flushed, unreadable furious face. Dark eyes jerked to meet Emily's. "Wha'd you do to him?"
She could only shrug helplessly.
Thankfully, she was ignored in favor of the giddy father chucking at his girl's chin, causing another shiver of revulsion from Heather that would have been amusing had Emily not been so confused.
"No, I just… I gotta tell ya, when your mom said we should do this… I had my doubts. But… to see you in here… doing your thing… helping your old man…" He grinned like a loon. "I've never been more proud." Squatting down, he grabbed hold of Heather's hands and pulled them into his lap, the smile idiotic. "I mean, if you're not lying. Tell me you're not lying, Heather. Because I love you honey, and Daddy would hate to have to hurt you."
He said it so sincerely, matter-of-fact, and yet Emily herself did not want to think about what his method of punishment might be. When Heather once again glanced in her direction, she found herself shaking her head minutely for the girl's own good.
"I'm just kidding!" he burst, laughing out loud before he pressed a kiss against Heather's cheek. Then the smile dropped just as quickly. "But I'm serious about the lying part."
Uncomfortable silence filled the room, and Emily bit her lip, unsure why she was so relieved when Heather chuckled helplessly and pulled her hands out of his grip, wiping them on her jeans.
"Chill out, Dad. Why the hell would I lie to you?"
Good question. Crossing her arms, Emily narrowed her eyes and once again glanced at the monitor tracking Andy and Max's movements.
She sucked in a breath, and let it out noisily. "Perhaps someone should go after them?" she asked pointedly.
"Don't worry." Dwayne grinned, lost in his own narcissism. "Houdini couldn't get out of there without help." Rising to his full, imposing height, he gripped his gun and checked the charges. "Heather, you see that radio? Daddy's going to be wearing an implant. You keep me posted, okay?"
"Sure, Dad."
"Good girl." Another scruff of her hair, and he was moving. To Emily's surprised, he gripped her arm, and dragged her with him, until they were out of the room and away from Heather's line of sight. "Did you see her in there? She's a natural, isn't she?"
Conflicted, and unsure why, Emily glanced again at the door. "She's lying."
"Of course she is." He grinned. "Emily, come on. I'm a secret agent. You think I can't tell when someone is lying to me?"
Tension dropped into her stomach like a rock. "Of course," she muttered stiffly.
"But… she's got such a natural talent at it, don't you think" He sighed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he frowned. "God, it's a pity that she's done this. I really am proud of her."
And then she saw him. The killer. The sociopath. The bad man. The same man she had been with this entire afternoon. He had never changed.
And yet she was standing here… listening to him and his implications…
"You can't kill her," she blurted. "I realize I am in no position to tell you that, but she is your daughter."
"But torturing and killing Andy Sachs is okay."
"Andy Sachs is an adult," she snapped. "And there is a difference."
"Gotta love shaky morals." He grinned. "Tell you what. You watch my daughter, make sure she doesn't completely fuck this up for me, and I won't kill her. How's that?"
Of course he would exploit this. He was a bastard after all.
He was a brilliant bastard.
He stared at her, and then… she saw it. The moment of sincerity, the briefest moment of conflict.
He wouldn't kill his daughter. Not even after all this.
In this, even Dwayne Johnson had his own sordid set of acceptable colors.
Without thinking, she leaned forward and met his lunge half way, sucking in his tongue and clutching onto broad shoulders as he palmed her ass and yanked her tight against him.
Pulling away to pant harshly, Emily's heart pounded, her mind swam.
"Be back soon," he growled against her mouth, and then he was gone, moving down the hall with the grace and strength of a true killer.
She gave herself a moment, as she shakily smoothed down her skirt and sucked in a lungful of air, and then Emily was herself again, pasting on a scowl and wrenching open the door to the security room, closing it firmly behind her.
From the chair, Heather regarded her from underneath wild brunette bangs and swollen, moist eyes.
She looked like a child.
"Allright then," Emily began, in a tone, until recently, she had reserved for unruly assistants or unhelpful concierges. "You are obviously lying. You will tell me what exactly is going on, or your father will kill us both."
The smile on the child's face was shaky. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Heather turned back to the keyboard, clicked fast through the screens. "I'm gonna get those people out. I'm gonna put him away. I'm gonna put you away, and then I'm getting the hell away from him."
Shakily, Heather lifted her arm.
In her hand was a gun, pointed directly at Emily's heart.
--
99 knew that the wisest thing to do in a situation like this was to be like the ten men behind her, fitted with helmets, bullet proof vests, protective gear that would keep them as safe as possible during this operation.
But she had never become an agent because she was wise.
Yellow glasses, a bullet proof vest, her gun, and the small PDA that carried the schematics she had downloaded from Heather were the only things she carried with her, as she led the descent into Agent 23's twisted maze of tunnels.
Carefully, she pressed against the dank smelling wood, peering into the shadows beyond the flickering lights, keeping the men behind her with a fisted hand in the air.
"Chief," she whispered into her radio, "We're in. Engaging radio silence."
"Acknowledged, 99."
They were in a battle against on of their own; one of their best.
Head craning, she took in the faces of the agents behind her, clutching onto their semi-automatics, their magnums, looking scared as hell over the prospect of coming face-to-face with the legendary Agent 23.
There was no room for hesitation or fear.
Not when Max and the lives of two innocents were at stake.
99 had spent years without a partner. She had spent years fostering the idea that to truly be strong, she needed to be alone. Independent. Accountable to nothing but her country and the Chief. Her brief dalliance with 23 only proved that trust, need in someone else, only instilled weakness.
She truly had believed that.
But now, she was backed up by ten agents, and none of them were Max.
99 had never felt weaker.
Inhaling unsteadily, she got a hold of herself, nodding quickly down the hall, her fist shifting to a pointed index finger.
Quietly, quickly, they moved down the tunnels. 99 only heard the beeping in her ear, a homing beacon, bringing her closer and closer to Max.
--
Caroline had always liked things that moved. Remote control cars. Little robots. Her school project had been a hydraulic robotic arm made from wood and syringes filled with water. She had written a program for it and everything.
Andy had helped with it. They had even used food coloring in the pumps, making the water pink.
Hymie was just a bigger version of her hydraulic water pump.
It made for a welcome distraction.
The van they were stuck in seemed suffocating small, and her Mom, who normally looked so together and in control and… sure about everything… only sat in the corner, glasses on, looking more robotic that Hymie did.
Cassidy, on the other side of the van, wasn't speaking to her.
Not like it mattered.
So she settled on the bench and worked the controls, watching as the life size robot with the kind brown eyes and the plastic smile reached down to his shoes and tied his laces.
Behind them, the computers spurted to life with static, and then dropped silent again.
"Mom?"
Carline glanced up. Her sister was edging toward their mother, eyes brimming with tears, because Cassidy had always been a big crybaby.
"What is it?" Caroline had never heard her mother's tone so deep.
"Don't worry." Caroline frowned as she heard Cassidy speak, and looked back at her remote, fingering the controls and letting Hymie sit up and carefully began to see if she could work his fingers, signing the first few letters of the alphabet. "Heather's taking care of Andy. She's going to save her, you'll see."
The statement was so ludicrous, Caroline found herself jerking her fingers, and nearly causing the robot to punch a hole in the steel.
The force caused a bang loud enough to make them wince, flooding the van like a sonic boom, and when they both looked at her, she suddenly didn't care.
Her only focus was her own fury. "You're so STUPID, Cassidy!"
Her sister's eyes widened, because Cassidy was SO dense sometimes. "What?!"
"You heard them!" she hissed, tossing the remote beside her, swiveling to face her sister. "Her Dad is a TRAITOR, he's like … a total killer! You know what that makes her?!"
"It doesn't make her anything!"
"It makes her just like him!" she hissed, heart pounding hard in her chest, making it hard to even hear herself above the blood rushing into her ears. "It makes her not normal!"
"Shut up, Caroline."
"It's true!"
"No, it's not!" Her sister launched to her feet, glaring at her with blazing eyes, because Caroline dared to speak about her stupid precious girlfriend. "You're just jealous. You've always been jealous."
The remark hit her in a place she hadn't expected, and it made her wince, words choking in her throat before she shook herself vehemently. "No I'm not. You're just stupid."
"No, you are! You're stupid because you expected us to be like… together all the time, and you wanted me to be just like you! You've always thought that because we're twins we had to be the same - we're NOT the same, Caroline. I'm different. I'm different than you. But you never listened, and so I stopped trying to share it with you. And now you're just jealous."
"Girls…"
But Caroline didn't care about her mother now. She was too infuriated. "Of what? Your stupid gay girlfriend who looks like a boy? A freak with a terrorist for a dad!? Why would I be jealous of that?!"
The slap that jerked across her face came so hard and so fast Caroline nearly reeled from the shock of it.
She stumbled back, palm smacking to the abused cheek, eyes watering as she stared at her own sister. The look on her sisters face: shock, horror - it could have been her own.
And then there was no time to fight back, no time to respond, because a cruel hand closed over her wrist and Caroline was yanked, along with Cassidy toward their mother.
She had never seen her mother so upset. Her eyes were wide, and her lips were trembling. Veins throbbed at her temples and the grip on her wrist was so tight she nearly whimpered in protest.
"That is enough." Her mother spoke in a low, unsteady hiss, so full of rage her voice actually wobbled. "Obviously I haven't been paying attention to what has been brewing between the two of you and that is my fault, but at the moment there is NO room for bickering. At this moment there will be nothing but quiet, do you understand?"
Lips pinched together, eyes wide, chest heaving, Caroline tried to swallow down her emotion and nod.
Beside her, Cassidy whispered a barely audible, "Yes, Mommy."
Their mother eased her grip, fingers slipped free before the head lowered, and long fingers slipped into her beautiful white hair, mussing it as her mother buried her head in her hands before them.
Her mom was crying.
Heart jumping into her throat, Caroline's eyes widened, jolted to Cassidy in panic.
Andy.
Cassidy blinked, gaze shifting wildly from her mom to her, and then without a second thought, just nodded.
Immediately, she and Cassidy launched forward, tore her mother's hands away from her face and buried herself into her embrace.
"No, Mommy," Cassidy breathed beside her.
"Don't cry, Mommy," she whispered, devastated at the very thought. "Don’t. We're gonna find Andy. We promise."
"We will," Cassidy whispered beside her.
Blindly, Caroline flailed with her free arm, until she caught hold of Cassidy's arm. Immediately, her sister slid down, and together, their digits tangled, wrapped around their mother and each other.
--
The tears were burning in Heather's eyes, and she tried to blink them away, keep her concentration on the woman in front of her, and the gun she held between them.
"Heather," came the British voice, unsteady and scared. Good. Good. "Heather, please put that gun down. I want to help you."
"You want to help me?" she whispered raggedly. "You don't want to help me! You just want to bang my dad!"
"Look, I don't claim to be perfect!" the woman snapped, and after a moment, added, "Though God knows I'd love to be…"
"Yeah, I don't care," Heather snapped. "This is my only chance."
Emily's arms were up, staying put. "Your only chance for what?"
"To keep her."
"To keep who?"
"Cassidy." Emily's eyes widened, and Heather managed a shaky smile, nodding unsteadily. "Yeah. You know her. And you know what her mother is like. When she finds out - she already knows… she's never going to let me see her again." She blinked, unable to help herself, and the tears spilled over, sliding down her cheeks silently. "She's the only person who's ever loved me."
Emily's mouth opened, closed again. "Sweetheart, Miranda is not someone who can bought, not through deeds. Not through actions."
"Everyone can be bought."
"That's your father talking."
"He's my dad!" she snapped, unable to fight it. "I am what he made me." When Emily stepped forward, she launched to her feet, struggling with the safey. "Don't move! I mean it!"
"Okay." Emily stayed put. "But sweetheart, you need to listen to me. Your father is aware that you're lying. He knows you're planning to betray him."
The statement was said quietly, and the gun in Heather's hand shook.
She was suddenly so scared.
"Is he going to kill me?"
"No." Heather sucked in her breath, and the gun shook harder. "He's not. Do you know why?"
Heather kept silent.
"He loves you."
"I don't believe you."
"He was proud of you. He's proud of you no matter who you are and what you do. Even if he's a despicable murderer who deserves to rot, the plain truth is that he loves you." Emily's eyes were dry, her voice was quiet, and she sounded nothing like the screechy woman she had encountered before. Heather was now shivering from all over, and the fucking tears wouldn't stop.
"You're lying."
"I'm not," Emily whispered. "I don't lie. I never have. And I've lived my whole life under the belief that you can earn love. You can't, Heather. No matter what you do or how hard you try."
"STOP!" She squeezed the trigger.
The shot went wild, skidding over a monitor, the sound so loud she dropped the gun, hands clapping to her ears as she yelped.
Immediately, arms came around her, holding her, reeling her in.
Heather, starved for affection, crumpled into Emily's embrace and sobbed.
--
END CHAPTER.
Author: Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
Fandom: The Devil Wears Prada / Get Smart Movie (Cross-over)
Pairing: Miranda/Andy, 99/Max, 99/Miranda
Spoilers: Both movies
Archiving: Eventually it'll show up at my own woefully outdated archive
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Summary: Worlds collide when Agent 99 and Maxwell Smart chase Rogue Agent 23 to a charity auction, and discover the inspiration for Agent 99's new face: Andy. Now, a case of mistaken identity has Andrea kidnapped, Max befuddled, and Miranda Priestly pissed off.
--
CHAPTERS
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen
--
--
PART ELEVEN: Sugar, We're Going Down
Tut, tut, child! Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it.
- Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
It wasn't that Emily didn't consider morality. She knew there were people who were inherently 'good' and people who were inherently 'bad'. At the very least, she understood that there were two extremes, but to be honest…
Emily never really understood the fuss about morality.
Between black and white were all the colors of the rainbow, and if there was a reason why Emily loved fashion, it was because she loved color.
The idea of a villain and a hero… it all seemed so superficial and pointless to her. What mattered weren't morals but deeds, and by deeds, she meant success.
And the world was painted with hypocrites regardless. People like Andy Sachs, who thought they were such saints, but swept into her office with her fat clothes and horrid hair and stole her job and her place, and more than that, stole Miranda Priestly.
Added to these charges was almost certainly murder. The jury was out as to whether or not Andy and her stupid face would actually get Emily killed, because although Dwayne had yet to kill her, he had made the threat with enough blasé carelessness that led Emily to believe he was capable of it.
Was it odd to enjoy the company of the man who would murder you?
Was this when morals would have been a useful thing to have?
It occurred to Emily that she was thinking about this all a little late in the game, but in her defense, she had, after all, been knocked out by an Andy Doppelganger, been tied up and left in a closet, been kidnapped, forced to do accounting and expenses, and on top of all that discovered that Andy Sachs had been carrying on with Miranda Priestly for months, claimed to love her, and the entire outside world knew about it.
Her role as a hostage had long since been muddled with hysteria, hunger, blind fury and sex, and in the wake of actually eating something and having some of the wound up energy screwed out of her, Emily discovered herself coherent and calm in a way that seemed … abnormal.
She had her world outside. She had her life, and yet… it almost felt as if a Miranda-colored veil had been lifted, and Emily was finally seeing herself.
Ironically, it had been thanks to a sociopath who would more than likely put a bullet in her head after having opened her eyes so readily.
There was something seriously wrong with her.
She was drifting hand in hand to a security room with the killer who had just fucked her into near unconsciousness, silently moving with him as he prepared to overtake whoever it was that had gotten into his security room.
And she was doing this willingly.
"I feel like I should be telling you not to kill anyone."
The glare he sent her clearly insinuated that she shut up.
"I'm just saying!"
"And you said it," he snapped, a harsh whisper. "Now will you shut up on your own, or am I going to have to do it?"
The threat should not have been the turn on it was.
One look at his face told her he agreed.
Biting down the smirk, she quirked a challenging eyebrow, but kept quiet.
Dwayne let go of her hand and raised his gun, broad shoulders braced against the wall as he moved away from the door, taking care to keep as quiet as a mouse.
For a man of his size, she had to admit, it was impressive.
Ten feet from the door, there was a dresser which a frame on it. Gun in position, he reached for the frame with his free hand, and maneuvered it like a lever.
Emily heard a click, and with a swish an entire section of the wall slid into itself, exposing the security room.
Without hesitation, Dwayne swiveled into the room, gun pointed at the unseen intruder.
"FREEZE."
A secret entrance. And he had let her see it.
That sealed it. He would kill her. Resigned and numb about it, Emily wondered if he would allow her to kill Andy first.
Just to see what it felt like.
Because chances were they got out of this alive, and Miranda found out she had attacked her precious Andy… she was more than likely fired.
It wasn't like she had much to lose.
Sucking in a shaky breath, Emily peeked inside, ducking in just before the secret door slid shut behind her, locking her in.
Eyes widened, Emily's mouth dropped open when she discovered it was Heather, his tomboy daughter, seated in her father's chair, staring down the barrel of a gun with a look that looked to be frozen in a mixture of fear and annoyance.
"Dad? What the fuck?"
The gun did not waver, but the hardened expression on the agent's face did soften. At least for a second. "Heather?" An angry scowl stretched across the angry face. "What are you doing in here?!"
"If you didn't want me in here why the fuck did you let me have access?!"
Emily was a master of details. Years under Miranda's tutelage had not been in vain. In her oddly sated state, she found herself noticing little things that seemed to present a picture that was out of focus - incomplete. Heather, little tomboy Heather who, up until twenty or so minutes ago, had appeared careless and bored, now sported beads of sweat on her forehead. Red eyes.
When little lost eyes took in her father's state of wrinkled shirt with the lapels tucked out, the manhandled dress with the noticeable rip on Emily's shoulder, lower lips began to pout, and Emily feared she was going to be in the room for a full on tantrum.
Thankfully, they were saved from such embarrassment when Dwayne lowered his gun deliberately, sucking in a breath that she could only assume was an attempt to keep control of himself.
"My mistake," he snarled. "I was going to bring you in here eventually to teach you how to use this, but apparently, you just helped yourself."
Emily blinked at the presence of his backbone. Apparently the pep talk had worked.
"Well, what the hell did you expect me to do, Dad? You were too busy getting it on with Little Miss Tuffet over there to realize that your fucking hostages are getting away."
"What?"
A thumb was thrown to the direction of the monitors. Emily's breath caught, and she found herself conflicted and unsure what to feel when she looked upon the very real image of Andy and her spy stumbling through Dwayne's maze.
"Great spy work, Dad," Heather added idly. "Super observant. No wonder you got your face blown off."
But something had obviously clicked in his head. There was no hesitation as he moved forward, placing the gun back in his belt and turning the keyboard away from the child, typing into his own commands. "They're on the second level, right above us."
Emily came forward, arms crossed as she bit her lip and leaned forward, searching the screen he pulled up.
"Here," she said, pointing at a moving dot on what looked like a digital blueprint of the building. "It looks as if they're going in circles."
"That's Dad's plan," Heather responded drolly. "Like rats in a cage, right Pop?"
A muscle in his cheek twinged, as he glanced from monitor to child, back to the monitor. "So you came in here to find them for me. Because you thought I had lost them." He paused, thinking this through. "You were trying to help me."
The insinuation was clear, and Emily's eyes narrowed as Heather's eyes drifted away, moved to the floor, an obvious attempt by a teenager to deflect.
"Geez, Dad, relax!" Heather muttered, flushing across her cheeks. "I was just bored."
She was lying.
What was she lying about?
Before Emily could even ask, her lover and kidnapper reached forward with his massive arms and pulled his skinny daughter into such a fierce hug, he nearly choked her, making her squirm.
"That's my GIRL!" he said hoarsely, and pressed a kiss against the scruffy brown hair.
"Don't touch me," shot back the girl. Dwayne immediately let go, leaving a girl with a flushed, unreadable furious face. Dark eyes jerked to meet Emily's. "Wha'd you do to him?"
She could only shrug helplessly.
Thankfully, she was ignored in favor of the giddy father chucking at his girl's chin, causing another shiver of revulsion from Heather that would have been amusing had Emily not been so confused.
"No, I just… I gotta tell ya, when your mom said we should do this… I had my doubts. But… to see you in here… doing your thing… helping your old man…" He grinned like a loon. "I've never been more proud." Squatting down, he grabbed hold of Heather's hands and pulled them into his lap, the smile idiotic. "I mean, if you're not lying. Tell me you're not lying, Heather. Because I love you honey, and Daddy would hate to have to hurt you."
He said it so sincerely, matter-of-fact, and yet Emily herself did not want to think about what his method of punishment might be. When Heather once again glanced in her direction, she found herself shaking her head minutely for the girl's own good.
"I'm just kidding!" he burst, laughing out loud before he pressed a kiss against Heather's cheek. Then the smile dropped just as quickly. "But I'm serious about the lying part."
Uncomfortable silence filled the room, and Emily bit her lip, unsure why she was so relieved when Heather chuckled helplessly and pulled her hands out of his grip, wiping them on her jeans.
"Chill out, Dad. Why the hell would I lie to you?"
Good question. Crossing her arms, Emily narrowed her eyes and once again glanced at the monitor tracking Andy and Max's movements.
She sucked in a breath, and let it out noisily. "Perhaps someone should go after them?" she asked pointedly.
"Don't worry." Dwayne grinned, lost in his own narcissism. "Houdini couldn't get out of there without help." Rising to his full, imposing height, he gripped his gun and checked the charges. "Heather, you see that radio? Daddy's going to be wearing an implant. You keep me posted, okay?"
"Sure, Dad."
"Good girl." Another scruff of her hair, and he was moving. To Emily's surprised, he gripped her arm, and dragged her with him, until they were out of the room and away from Heather's line of sight. "Did you see her in there? She's a natural, isn't she?"
Conflicted, and unsure why, Emily glanced again at the door. "She's lying."
"Of course she is." He grinned. "Emily, come on. I'm a secret agent. You think I can't tell when someone is lying to me?"
Tension dropped into her stomach like a rock. "Of course," she muttered stiffly.
"But… she's got such a natural talent at it, don't you think" He sighed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he frowned. "God, it's a pity that she's done this. I really am proud of her."
And then she saw him. The killer. The sociopath. The bad man. The same man she had been with this entire afternoon. He had never changed.
And yet she was standing here… listening to him and his implications…
"You can't kill her," she blurted. "I realize I am in no position to tell you that, but she is your daughter."
"But torturing and killing Andy Sachs is okay."
"Andy Sachs is an adult," she snapped. "And there is a difference."
"Gotta love shaky morals." He grinned. "Tell you what. You watch my daughter, make sure she doesn't completely fuck this up for me, and I won't kill her. How's that?"
Of course he would exploit this. He was a bastard after all.
He was a brilliant bastard.
He stared at her, and then… she saw it. The moment of sincerity, the briefest moment of conflict.
He wouldn't kill his daughter. Not even after all this.
In this, even Dwayne Johnson had his own sordid set of acceptable colors.
Without thinking, she leaned forward and met his lunge half way, sucking in his tongue and clutching onto broad shoulders as he palmed her ass and yanked her tight against him.
Pulling away to pant harshly, Emily's heart pounded, her mind swam.
"Be back soon," he growled against her mouth, and then he was gone, moving down the hall with the grace and strength of a true killer.
She gave herself a moment, as she shakily smoothed down her skirt and sucked in a lungful of air, and then Emily was herself again, pasting on a scowl and wrenching open the door to the security room, closing it firmly behind her.
From the chair, Heather regarded her from underneath wild brunette bangs and swollen, moist eyes.
She looked like a child.
"Allright then," Emily began, in a tone, until recently, she had reserved for unruly assistants or unhelpful concierges. "You are obviously lying. You will tell me what exactly is going on, or your father will kill us both."
The smile on the child's face was shaky. "What does it look like I'm doing?" Heather turned back to the keyboard, clicked fast through the screens. "I'm gonna get those people out. I'm gonna put him away. I'm gonna put you away, and then I'm getting the hell away from him."
Shakily, Heather lifted her arm.
In her hand was a gun, pointed directly at Emily's heart.
--
99 knew that the wisest thing to do in a situation like this was to be like the ten men behind her, fitted with helmets, bullet proof vests, protective gear that would keep them as safe as possible during this operation.
But she had never become an agent because she was wise.
Yellow glasses, a bullet proof vest, her gun, and the small PDA that carried the schematics she had downloaded from Heather were the only things she carried with her, as she led the descent into Agent 23's twisted maze of tunnels.
Carefully, she pressed against the dank smelling wood, peering into the shadows beyond the flickering lights, keeping the men behind her with a fisted hand in the air.
"Chief," she whispered into her radio, "We're in. Engaging radio silence."
"Acknowledged, 99."
They were in a battle against on of their own; one of their best.
Head craning, she took in the faces of the agents behind her, clutching onto their semi-automatics, their magnums, looking scared as hell over the prospect of coming face-to-face with the legendary Agent 23.
There was no room for hesitation or fear.
Not when Max and the lives of two innocents were at stake.
99 had spent years without a partner. She had spent years fostering the idea that to truly be strong, she needed to be alone. Independent. Accountable to nothing but her country and the Chief. Her brief dalliance with 23 only proved that trust, need in someone else, only instilled weakness.
She truly had believed that.
But now, she was backed up by ten agents, and none of them were Max.
99 had never felt weaker.
Inhaling unsteadily, she got a hold of herself, nodding quickly down the hall, her fist shifting to a pointed index finger.
Quietly, quickly, they moved down the tunnels. 99 only heard the beeping in her ear, a homing beacon, bringing her closer and closer to Max.
--
Caroline had always liked things that moved. Remote control cars. Little robots. Her school project had been a hydraulic robotic arm made from wood and syringes filled with water. She had written a program for it and everything.
Andy had helped with it. They had even used food coloring in the pumps, making the water pink.
Hymie was just a bigger version of her hydraulic water pump.
It made for a welcome distraction.
The van they were stuck in seemed suffocating small, and her Mom, who normally looked so together and in control and… sure about everything… only sat in the corner, glasses on, looking more robotic that Hymie did.
Cassidy, on the other side of the van, wasn't speaking to her.
Not like it mattered.
So she settled on the bench and worked the controls, watching as the life size robot with the kind brown eyes and the plastic smile reached down to his shoes and tied his laces.
Behind them, the computers spurted to life with static, and then dropped silent again.
"Mom?"
Carline glanced up. Her sister was edging toward their mother, eyes brimming with tears, because Cassidy had always been a big crybaby.
"What is it?" Caroline had never heard her mother's tone so deep.
"Don't worry." Caroline frowned as she heard Cassidy speak, and looked back at her remote, fingering the controls and letting Hymie sit up and carefully began to see if she could work his fingers, signing the first few letters of the alphabet. "Heather's taking care of Andy. She's going to save her, you'll see."
The statement was so ludicrous, Caroline found herself jerking her fingers, and nearly causing the robot to punch a hole in the steel.
The force caused a bang loud enough to make them wince, flooding the van like a sonic boom, and when they both looked at her, she suddenly didn't care.
Her only focus was her own fury. "You're so STUPID, Cassidy!"
Her sister's eyes widened, because Cassidy was SO dense sometimes. "What?!"
"You heard them!" she hissed, tossing the remote beside her, swiveling to face her sister. "Her Dad is a TRAITOR, he's like … a total killer! You know what that makes her?!"
"It doesn't make her anything!"
"It makes her just like him!" she hissed, heart pounding hard in her chest, making it hard to even hear herself above the blood rushing into her ears. "It makes her not normal!"
"Shut up, Caroline."
"It's true!"
"No, it's not!" Her sister launched to her feet, glaring at her with blazing eyes, because Caroline dared to speak about her stupid precious girlfriend. "You're just jealous. You've always been jealous."
The remark hit her in a place she hadn't expected, and it made her wince, words choking in her throat before she shook herself vehemently. "No I'm not. You're just stupid."
"No, you are! You're stupid because you expected us to be like… together all the time, and you wanted me to be just like you! You've always thought that because we're twins we had to be the same - we're NOT the same, Caroline. I'm different. I'm different than you. But you never listened, and so I stopped trying to share it with you. And now you're just jealous."
"Girls…"
But Caroline didn't care about her mother now. She was too infuriated. "Of what? Your stupid gay girlfriend who looks like a boy? A freak with a terrorist for a dad!? Why would I be jealous of that?!"
The slap that jerked across her face came so hard and so fast Caroline nearly reeled from the shock of it.
She stumbled back, palm smacking to the abused cheek, eyes watering as she stared at her own sister. The look on her sisters face: shock, horror - it could have been her own.
And then there was no time to fight back, no time to respond, because a cruel hand closed over her wrist and Caroline was yanked, along with Cassidy toward their mother.
She had never seen her mother so upset. Her eyes were wide, and her lips were trembling. Veins throbbed at her temples and the grip on her wrist was so tight she nearly whimpered in protest.
"That is enough." Her mother spoke in a low, unsteady hiss, so full of rage her voice actually wobbled. "Obviously I haven't been paying attention to what has been brewing between the two of you and that is my fault, but at the moment there is NO room for bickering. At this moment there will be nothing but quiet, do you understand?"
Lips pinched together, eyes wide, chest heaving, Caroline tried to swallow down her emotion and nod.
Beside her, Cassidy whispered a barely audible, "Yes, Mommy."
Their mother eased her grip, fingers slipped free before the head lowered, and long fingers slipped into her beautiful white hair, mussing it as her mother buried her head in her hands before them.
Her mom was crying.
Heart jumping into her throat, Caroline's eyes widened, jolted to Cassidy in panic.
Andy.
Cassidy blinked, gaze shifting wildly from her mom to her, and then without a second thought, just nodded.
Immediately, she and Cassidy launched forward, tore her mother's hands away from her face and buried herself into her embrace.
"No, Mommy," Cassidy breathed beside her.
"Don't cry, Mommy," she whispered, devastated at the very thought. "Don’t. We're gonna find Andy. We promise."
"We will," Cassidy whispered beside her.
Blindly, Caroline flailed with her free arm, until she caught hold of Cassidy's arm. Immediately, her sister slid down, and together, their digits tangled, wrapped around their mother and each other.
--
The tears were burning in Heather's eyes, and she tried to blink them away, keep her concentration on the woman in front of her, and the gun she held between them.
"Heather," came the British voice, unsteady and scared. Good. Good. "Heather, please put that gun down. I want to help you."
"You want to help me?" she whispered raggedly. "You don't want to help me! You just want to bang my dad!"
"Look, I don't claim to be perfect!" the woman snapped, and after a moment, added, "Though God knows I'd love to be…"
"Yeah, I don't care," Heather snapped. "This is my only chance."
Emily's arms were up, staying put. "Your only chance for what?"
"To keep her."
"To keep who?"
"Cassidy." Emily's eyes widened, and Heather managed a shaky smile, nodding unsteadily. "Yeah. You know her. And you know what her mother is like. When she finds out - she already knows… she's never going to let me see her again." She blinked, unable to help herself, and the tears spilled over, sliding down her cheeks silently. "She's the only person who's ever loved me."
Emily's mouth opened, closed again. "Sweetheart, Miranda is not someone who can bought, not through deeds. Not through actions."
"Everyone can be bought."
"That's your father talking."
"He's my dad!" she snapped, unable to fight it. "I am what he made me." When Emily stepped forward, she launched to her feet, struggling with the safey. "Don't move! I mean it!"
"Okay." Emily stayed put. "But sweetheart, you need to listen to me. Your father is aware that you're lying. He knows you're planning to betray him."
The statement was said quietly, and the gun in Heather's hand shook.
She was suddenly so scared.
"Is he going to kill me?"
"No." Heather sucked in her breath, and the gun shook harder. "He's not. Do you know why?"
Heather kept silent.
"He loves you."
"I don't believe you."
"He was proud of you. He's proud of you no matter who you are and what you do. Even if he's a despicable murderer who deserves to rot, the plain truth is that he loves you." Emily's eyes were dry, her voice was quiet, and she sounded nothing like the screechy woman she had encountered before. Heather was now shivering from all over, and the fucking tears wouldn't stop.
"You're lying."
"I'm not," Emily whispered. "I don't lie. I never have. And I've lived my whole life under the belief that you can earn love. You can't, Heather. No matter what you do or how hard you try."
"STOP!" She squeezed the trigger.
The shot went wild, skidding over a monitor, the sound so loud she dropped the gun, hands clapping to her ears as she yelped.
Immediately, arms came around her, holding her, reeling her in.
Heather, starved for affection, crumpled into Emily's embrace and sobbed.
--
END CHAPTER.