Who: Shailee and Callum, part 1 What: Routine missions come apart at the seams Where: Sarmiento, Argentina When: This past weekend. Timelines are fuzzy. Warnings/Rating: Some minor violence, nothing serious
Growing up in Montana should have prepared Callum for the cold of Argentina, but too much time spent in more temperate climates had softened him. Thermals and wool helped, but not enough, and whatever anxiety he was feeling just then over everything that was happening was eclipsed by the cold. He was just a tech guy, someone to get people in, to monitor, and do very little else, and as such, he wasn’t always kept in the loop when things changed. But Callum had been in the business long enough to smell the fear in the air, the shift of the winds that spoke of something bad happening in the near future. No one told him anything, though, leaving him pacing the small room in the back of the ramshackle building, alone with the equipment he had brought and his own thoughts, a dangerous combination that had him riding a razor blade edge of anxiety.
It was one of those ‘worst case scenarios’ that Shailee had told him, time and time again, to stop bringing up. Everything had seemed cut and dry in the plans, or at least the little he was given information on considering his position with the group of career criminals that had travelled down to Argentina. Routine, he was assured. Stop worrying, he was instructed, but he had been doing this for far too long not to worry. A healthy sense of paranoia, of caution, that’s what got a person living for more than a handful of years doing this, and nothing his handler had to say was going to make those kind of thoughts and feelings go away.
His thoughts and worries were interrupted in a handful of frightened shouts, the sound of gunfire unmistakable far off in the building. Thakkar, he thought to himself. Shit’s hitting the fan.
Callum looked dubiously at the small amount of gear that had been given to him by the agency, shooting a look towards Shailee that was equal amounts unimpressed and annoyed. “What, no bullet proof vest for your favourite pet?” he asked as he rolled one of the many thermal shirts he was taking with him into a tight roll, shoving it down into the duffle bag with rough fingers. “That just doesn’t seem fair to me, y’know? Dangerous situation at all.” Though so far, everything had gone smoothly. No hiccups, no apparent suspicion of Callum through any of the meetings before he had been given location information and enough cash to secure transportation there and back. He wasn’t a positive thinker, though, and even though there was nothing to complain about yet, he was a mass of pessimism as he packed. “And explain to me, again, how you’re gonna know if shit goes down?”
Shailee had looked up from petting the dog to shake her head at Callum. “You’re going to be around these men for days, Westerberg. A bulletproof vest would draw too much attention. There’s enough in there for you to protect yourself if things do go wrong, and I’ll be outside with firepower.” She had packed her own bags earlier that day, and was there to give Callum last minute instructions and answer any final questions he might have. “And if things go wrong, you tell us with the watch.” Audio was too difficult to make work in the middle of Patagonia, but a simple distress beacon that was completely undetectable until activated was the perfect safety beacon. “I’ll come in first, but the rest will be close behind.” The team going with her to Sarmiento would be hanging back, trying to lay low and not attract attention as a group of Americans. Shailee would be closer, in the guise of an Indian journalist doing a feature on the area. “The first sign you get of things going south, you press that button, and I’ll come get you out. But you won’t need to, I’m sure.”
He had really hoped it wouldn’t come to this, things going south, but the gunshots were only increasing in intensity, and by the sounds of shouting out in the rest of the building, things weren’t getting any better. “And you said you were sure this wasn’t needed,” Callum muttered as he thumbed the button on the watch, activating the distress beacon. There was no indication on the watch that it had been activated, and he almost wished there had been. Something to reassure him as he grabbed up the bag he had brought with him, already breaking his gear down, shoving it back into the bag with gloved hands that were too clumsy to be precise. Fucking cold, he thought to himself, but the complaint lasted only a heartbeat. And you better fucking hurry, Thakkar.
The firefight had moved closer and Callum stood, his bag in hand, a sight in cargos and woolen sweaters, a knit cap pulled down over his ears to ward off the cold. Too close for comfort, far too close for comfort.
Shailee had been camped out in a small restaurant a few blocks away from the building, close enough to have a direct view through the glass front, but far enough not to suggest surveillance. She knew something was wrong the second the pick up trucks rolled up to the building. They were too loud, too close for something that was trying to keep attention at bay. She was on her feet, shoving her laptop and equipment into her bag before the gunfire erupted. By the time the panicked patrons dove under their tables for cover, Shailee was out the door.
A tell-tale beep came through her headpiece as she was ducking around a home, on her way to the back of the building. Yes, Westerberg, I know. The cold wind slapped at her face as she ran, her knit wool hat and thick hair providing little protection against the biting frost. She paused across the street from the building pressing the button on her transmitter to contact the rest of her team. “Scott, you getting this? I’m going in to get Westerberg out. I don’t care how iced over those roads are, get your asses out here stat.
The gunfire was now going both ways, but still kept in check at the front of the building. No one had bothered to come around this side, which meant she might be able to get in and out with Westerberg without anyone noticing. If there was any time she needed her luck to hold, it was now.
Some people might have liked the adrenaline rush that came with these sort of situations, but Callum just found that it made him sick to his stomach. He wasn’t a man of action, he was someone who observed, who played his part in the background. No one wrote stories about what he did because they were too busy paying attention to the action movie star with guns blazing and biceps rippling because his shirt was inevitably tore in some spectacular way. No, Callum was just a man with a skill set that could be used. Where the fuck are you, Thakkar?
The gunfire stopped for a brief moment, and in that moment, Callum wondered if it was over. That thought lasted until the world flashed in shades of red, the explosion seemingly centered near the room he had holed up in, the shockwave that followed only seconds past throwing Callum back against the wall behind him near the window, shards of glass raining from the broken panes, throwing shrapnel and bits of building up into the air in a rain that drew blood where it landed.
Shailee had just made it to the edge of server room window when her world exploded into bright orange fragments. She was thrown against the pavement as windows shattered across the building, covering her in a shroud of glass slivers where she lay. Fire and ice ripped through her from head to toe, as the glass and metal cut through her layers and into her skin. She felt searing pain down her left side just under her ribs, but ignored it, pushing herself to her feet once the rain of metal and glass had stopped. Westerberg was still inside the server room, which had clearly been the target of that explosion.
“Westerberg?” Shailee climbed through the broken window into the haze filled room, falling hard as she landed. “Tell me you’re here, Westerberg.” She kept low as she looked around the room, her breath catching when she saw the unmoving figure by the wall. “Westerberg, Westerberg. Can you hear me?” She shook the man’s shoulders forcefully, unwilling to consider the possibility that he was anything but alive and well. “Come on, Callum. We have to get out of here.”
It was a dark place that he had sunk to after the blast, his ears still ringing from the sound, but Shailee’s voice still pushed through that haze though he was loathe to respond just then. His head hurt, his back hurt, and he just wanted to rest for a few. But then she was shaking him and that was harder to ignore, so eyes opened to look upon her face, his gaze unfocused and unsteady before he gave a weak shake of his head. “Give me a few moments, Thakkar,” he mumbled, reaching a gloved hand up to pat her on the arm as eyes fell shut again.
“Oh no you don’t.” Shailee caught the gloved hand that tried to pat her away and pulled the arm attached to it around her shoulders. Ignoring the pain still coursing through her side, Shailee slid her arm behind Callum's back, pulling him to his feet. She didn't know if he was concussed or worse, but she knew the longer they stayed there, the more likely they were to get hit again. “Come on, Westerberg, on your feet.” She pulled him up against her good side, taking as much of his weight as she could while still staying upright herself. “I’m going to take you to that window, but I’m going to need your help to get you through there. Do you hear me?”
Callum let out a groan as he was pulled up to his feet, but the movement kept him conscious and with her, though the world was still an unfocused thing. “I’m up, I’m up,” he mumbled at her, bringing a hand up to rub at his forehead, trying to bring the world back into focus. He could hear people in the distance, shouts and chaos, and though he wanted nothing more than to just lay down and sleep this shit away, he kept moving. Every step had him a bit more with it, and while he was hardly at peak performance, he had enough in him to get through the window, booted feet landing on the other side, a hand on the frame keeping his knees from giving out beneath him. The wall was a solid thing in front of him, and he reached through, offering his hand to Shailee to help her through as well. This was a team effort, no man left behind kind of shit.
The shock of landing on her feet once again traveled straight through her soles and up her sides, forcing her to let out a string of expletives. A burst of gunfire, closer, louder, cut her off before she could get to the really imaginative stuff. “They’re coming around this way.” She spotted an ice covered SUV parked further down the street and pointed towards it. “There. Quickly.” They hobbled quickly towards the SUV as the sounds of the gunfire got closer, before breaking out into an all-out run.
Wrenching the door open, Shailee crouched low and and reached under the seat, looking for the keys she had stashed there a few days previously. The SUV had been planted there by the CIA for use in an emergency, just old and tattered enough to not arouse any suspicion while still being fully functional. Shots rang out against the back of the vehicle right as she turned the key in the ignition, coaxing the ice cold engine to turn over and get them the hell out of there. “Come on, come on, come on! You still with me, Westerberg?”
Orders were easy to follow once they were both out of the crumbling building, and Callum moved as quickly as he could against her side, putting his focus in keeping both feet moving and his brain from thinking too hard about what was going on. When the gunfire grew louder, closer, it was easier to run and to think of nothing else. As Shailee saw to the SUV, Callum detached himself from her side and came around the other side, ramming his shoulder against the side of the SUV to break the ice from the door, the metal hinges protesting as he pulled it open and hauled himself into its relative safety. The gunshots echoed in his ears, and he sank down in his seat, making himself a smaller target. “Still with you, Thakkar,” Callum muttered, peering around the edge of the seat towards the source of the gunshots, cursing under his breath. “You can get this thing going anytime now. I can see them heading in our fucking direction.” There weren’t many in pursuit, but the use of firearms meant that small numbers could be very threatening, and Callum was in no hurry to challenge them and tease Death that night.
Shailee turned the key in the ignition four, five, six times before the engine finally turned over, its rumble small and harmless amidst the ruckus of gunfire and explosions. “Attagirl.” Shailee eased her foot onto the gas, praying the ice at the wheels wasn’t too thick to break. The car slid a fraction sideways as the wheels tried for traction, but the ice over the chains must have finally shattered, as they began to move in the direction she wanted. “The engine’s still cold, but we’re moving.” Just in time too, because she could hear shouts behind them, followed by a spray of gunfire that was definitely aimed at them.
The rear windshield shattered in a spray of glass as they pulled away, but that was the extent of the damage to the car. Shailee kept looking over her shoulder as they drove through the frozen streets to the edge of town, worried that some boss might decide the fleeing SUV was worth pursuing. Ten minutes, then fifteen passed, and the only thing following them through the frozen terrain was the icy wind. She flicked on her transmitter once again, updating her team on the situation through thick static. “We’re out, but I’m not sure whether Westerberg’s been compromised or they’re going to give chase. I’m taking him to the safehouse.” She paused, nodding along to whatever she heard coming through the other end. “Yeah, the blizzard might knock comms out, but we’ll touch base as soon as it passes. Yes. Okay.” A laugh followed by a grimace, as she clutched her side with her free hand. “Yes, you keep warm too.”
Her transmitter turned off, Shailee turned back to check on Callum. His eyes were half shut, the sound of the wind and rocking of the jeep probably having lulled him back to sleep. “No, Westerberg! Stay awake.” Keeping her eyes on the road, she reached towards him, patting his face with her gloved hand. “Callum? Callum, wake up!”
It was a combination of the concussion and the rock of the jeep that had him losing his grip on awareness, dimly aware of Shailee talking to someone on the other end of the transmitter before again the darkness claimed him, at least until her hand was patting at his cheek. Eyes opened slowly and Callum glanced over towards Shailee, giving her a long look before he rolled his eyes and shifted to sit up straighter in his seat. “I’m awake,” he grumbled at her, peeling off one glove to rub at his eyes. “We still being followed? Guessing not since there’s no gunfire going on.” He was hazy at best, but awake, watching the unfamiliar terrain pass by them as they bumped along the rough road. “Where are we going? They- fuck. My gear. I left it back there.” This had gone worse than he had predicted, even with his normal state of pessimism, and now they were fleeing whatever the hell had happened back in town, going god knows where, flurries of snow starting to fill the air as they cut through the countryside. Rubbing at the back of his head, he glanced towards Shailee again, doing what he could to keep himself awake and going. “You hurt?”
“It’s been quiet the whole ride. But we’re going to be easy to follow, one set of tire prints leading right out of Sarmiento and into the desert. We won’t be safe until the blizzard rolls in and covers our tracks.” She turned sharply to look at him at the mention of the forgotten gear. “What was in it? Anything that might give you away? The team will try to sweep through once things quiet down, but they can’t do anything until the storm passes either.” She shrugged in answer to his question, trying to ignore the sticky slickness coating the glove still clutched at her side. “I was by the windows when they exploded. It’s probably just glass. You, on the other hand, are concussed and need to stay the hell awake.”
Callum was quiet for a while, and for once, he found himself hoping the blizzard would get here sooner rather than later, if only for the concealment it would offer their tracks out of town. “Nothing in there that was personal. Just- just pissed I didn’t think to grab it. I took precautions, like you all but insisted I did.” He glanced towards her at the mention of the glass, looking at her closely, for any signs of severity in her expression. “I’m awake, Thakkar. I’ll pinch myself to stay awake, all right? How far to the safe house, assuming there is one.” Twisting around, he glanced in the back of the SUV for anything they could use, spying the most basic of first aid kits shoved under one seat, but he grabbed it and pulled it into his lap, tugging his glove back on moments later.
“Good, then it’s okay. It wasn’t exactly your fault you left it back there. You were both blown up and unconscious, so give yourself a pass.” She let out a small smile at the image of him pinching himself, the bare gesture all she could manage between focusing on the drive and the throbbing in her ears. “You do that, because I don’t think I can drag you all the way inside if you pass out.” She watched him reach for the first aid kit, glad that he was alert and mostly functional once again. “It’s about a mile away. We’ll be there soon.”
As promised, they pulled up by an abandoned looking home a few minutes later. Shailee jumped out of the car while keeping hold of her side, pulling the folded fabric through the broken rear window. “Help me get this over the car.” She didn’t think the cover would do much to help the car through the blizzard, but they had to try if they wanted to drive away from here once it passed. The car covered, they moved through the side door of the house into the kitchen, which was a sight better than the outside would have suggested. The CIA safehouse was stocked with enough amenities to get them through two weeks of being holed up, but she hoped they wouldn’t need to stick around that long. She dropped into the first chair she saw, her fingers curling against her side reflexively due to the pain. “Welcome to Casa Frozen Ass Desert, Westerberg.”
The rundown house was a welcome sight, a feeling of appreciation he didn’t expect washing over him. As the SUV was parked, Callum hauled himself out moments later, unsteady for a brief moment before he got his legs beneath him, tossing the first aid kit towards the house as he helped her with the cover, tugging it down over the SUV even as the wind whipped around them and the snow started to fall heavier. Grabbing up the kit, Callum was close on Shailee’s heels as they entered the house, and as she sat down, it was Callum who locked the door and pulled the shades down over the windows. “Next mission, I’ll find something in a warmer climate,” Callum muttered as he grabbed a nearby chair and hauled it towards him, sitting down just as heavily and taking in the way she protected her side with one hand. “We need to take a look at your side, Thakkar,” Callum murmured, putting his own injuries to the side because a bump on the head wasn’t him bleeding out. Her, on the other hand, that was a different story.
“This place have heat, or do I have to use that fireplace over there,” Callum asked, hooking a thumb towards the ashed thing that took up part of one wall.
“Please do that. The sun’s a lot better for my skin than this fucking wind.” She tugged the wool hat off her head, waving her free hand at him. “I’m sure it’s not bad.” She reluctantly pulled her hand away under his watchful eye, finally forcing herself to look at the shiny film of blood visible on the black glove. “Okay, maybe you’re right. Get the heat on first though. There’s central heating, but the generator is outside. The fireplace is a better bet until that wind dies down.” Her words were a lot slower and softer than they had been at the building and in the car, the adrenaline rush finally wearing off, the pain becoming a more prominent factor with every passing second.
He didn’t bother with words as he went to the fireplace to get it started, ducking outside to grab some of the wood he had seen piled against the outer wall, hauling in several armfuls before he got the fire going. It was soon crackling in the fireplace, filling the air with warmth, and it was then that he turned his attention back to Shailee and the first aid kit he had dragged in with him. He didn’t like the sight of the blood, never had, but he put aside his own likes and dislikes, instead reaching out to help her with her jacket. “Be glad I got some courses in first aid while I was still in DC,” Callum muttered to her, tossing the jacket to the side, eyes narrowing at the blood soaked fabric that clung to her left side. “Shailee...” Callum murmured, and there was concern in his voice, genuine worry. “Let’s get you to the couch. Or the bed. Easier to check this out.”
It was a sign of how much pain Shailee was in that she not only let Callum get her out of her jacket, but also let the couch and bed suggestions pass without comment. She had even thought up a lumberjack comment to make about Callum hauling in the wood, but the moment had come and gone, and she couldn’t remember what was so funny in the first place. “Couch’s closer” was all she said as she let him pull her to her feet, moving the few feet closer to the fireplace before slumping back heavily against the couch cushions. “First aid’s good. Glass shouldn’t hurt so much.” Her vision was starting to get a little hazy, due to either the heat or the pain, she was no longer sure which. She blinked away the fog, forcing herself to stay awake, annoyed at herself for being so weak because of a little glass. “How bad is it?”
Callum didn’t say a word as he helped Shailee to the couch, settling himself on the floor beside her as he laid hands that were surprisingly gentle against her side. “Just shut up,” he murmured as he peeled away the layer of thermal she had donned, pushing the fabric up her chest, the fabric sticky and soaked with red. “You’re fine. Just a flesh wound,” Callum lied, because that much blood wasn’t a good thing to see, and he could see the shards of glass that had embedded themselves, through the fabric, into her flesh. “I need to clean it out, though,” Callum said as he rocked back. “And you’ll probably want something to drink. I’m going to go wash up. Find booze.” It was a testament to how concerned he was that his voice had softened, his mannerisms smooth and easy. A blow to the head was one thing, but it wasn’t going to kill him. If he didn’t stop her bleeding, that very well could, and that scared the shit out of Callum.
Even though his voice gave away nothing, Shailee knew it wasn’t just a flesh wound. For one thing, she had had flesh wounds before, and none of them had felt quite like this. For another, Callum’s voice had gone soft, and if was walking on eggshells around her while suffering from a head wound, she must be fucked. Pulling the gloves off her hand, she swung her legs with effort onto the couch, scooting her back up against the armrest.
Callum was only gone for a few moments, and when he returned, it was with a bottle of cheap vodka and hands that smelled of generic soap, a glass clutched in his fingers. Pouring two fingers worth of vodka, he held it out to Shailee, making sure her fingers were wound firmly around the tumbler before he released it. “Drink that,” Callum ordered her, and there was no room for argument in the tone of his voice. As she did so, he picked through the first aid kit that, while small, was surprisingly well-stocked. Gauze, tweezers, some antibiotic salve. He didn’t even want to think about attempting stitches with how he was feeling at that moment. But that was something he could figure out later, once he felt more in control.
Shailee took the glass without question, throwing it back as though she were an 18 year-old at her first club. To her credit, she barely grimaced, despite the distinct jet-fuel taste. “It’s going to take a lot more of that to make stop feeling that ‘flesh wound.’” What she could feel was his fingers, warm, gentle, against her blood-soaked skin, trying their best not to increase her pain. She interjected with random groans and curse words as he worked, but even that proved to not be enough to keep her awake for long. When the pain became too much to bear, Shailee fell into black unconsciousness, deep and dark, dead to the world for all the good she could do for it at this point.
It was somewhat of a relief when she passed out, because Callum was having a hard time listening to her being in pain and working at the same time. Shailee was supposed to be the leader, the strong one, the one in control who knew what she was doing, not him. And seeing her vulnerable and nearly bleeding out on the couch, it churned something in his stomach, made bile rise and his hands shake. So when she quieted, he felt some relief because now he could focus.
The worst part of the wound was the piece of window frame that had impaled itself in her side. Old wood, contaminated with god knows what, splintered and jagged, it took several minutes for him to work it out, and as it came out, so did the blood. Callum could feel his heart rate increase, adrenaline kicking in at an alarmingly high rate, and in the moments that followed, he was a creature of pure instinct and reaction. It was just him and her in that safe house, a blizzard howling outside with snow beating at the pane glass windows, and there was no one else he could rely on to make this situation better, not even Shailee whispering instructions in his ears to reassure him that everything would be fine.
Callum wasn’t sure where he found it in him to haul out the needle and sutures he had found in the field kit, and his stitches weren’t perfect, ugly things that looked out of place against her skin, but they held her together and they stopped the bleeding, and for the longest time, Callum simply watched her as she lay there stretched out on the couch, silent. The chunk of wood and other pieces of glass he had dug out of the wound lay on a paper towel nearby, and he just prayed he had gotten everything, that he hadn’t sewn something up in her that would kill her in the end. That was the worry he had, incompetence, an inability to do this thing when she needed him to. And it was those thoughts, that worry chewing on his nerves, that had Callum clambering to his feet and running to the bathroom, where the little he had eaten over the past few days came up in a mixture of mostly-digested food and bile, the sour taste in his mouth a hard reminder of what had happened.