Max knows Mouse likes (muchness) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-08-25 14:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | dormouse |
Who: Max
What: Narrative: Leaving Langley
Where: Langley → Henderson
When: Recently
Warnings/Rating: None
It took six days altogether, and by the time Max walked out of Langley she was leaning so heavily on the cane in her left hand that she almost couldn't make it out on her own steam. But she grit her teeth, and she bit her cheek bloody, and she refused to ask for help. She was exhausted, the intense questioning showing in the circles beneath her eyes and the way her fingers were damp and paler against the cane than their normal tan. But she looked ahead, straight. She didn't drop her chin, and she didn't tip it defiantly. She'd at least get into the waiting car with her pride intact, because that was how she handled things. No one would see her break, even if each step she took felt like knives being jabbed into bone. And no one would see her cry, even if she wanted to screw her palms against her eyes like the kid she'd never gotten a chance to be.
The flight felt endless, and her hips protested the straight and unforgiving seats. Pacing the aisle didn't help, and it only made the officers on the supply flight agitated, so she spent the agonizing hours convincing herself that Beth, at least, was fine. Cerise would burn the last rope on her bridge with Corvus if she hurt that baby, and Max was sure the woman was still holding a torch that wouldn't let that happen. She didn't trust Cerise, because trusting murdering junkies wasn't high on Max's list of things to do, but she believed the woman loved Corvus, and she was counting on that to keep her niece safe. As for Ella, Max couldn't even think about her sister, not without becoming angry, and anger wasn't going to do a bit of good for anyone just then. She knew Ella had to be going through hell, but Beth was the victim, as far as Max was concerned, and Ella hadn't listened to anyone's advice, which had put Beth in danger. For Max, the kid came first, always.
She'd talked to her father once while she was at Langley, but she hadn't told him about Ella and the baby. Max knew that he was probably already aware of all of it, but the General didn't bring it up, and Max didn't push it. Instead, the call had centered around him getting her pulled for his team, if things went bad. If, which Max thought was just hysterical. But she didn't want to go back to the Army and Defense. Leaving the Army to join the CIA had been the one decision she'd made for herself in her entire life, and she didn't want to go back to being the General's arm, especially not while the truth about Lin's parentage was still up in the air. So, when the CIA made their offer, she didn't take the General's bait, even if that bait was so much more appealing than the slap the CIA had handed down.
At least the slap would keep her from ever having to look at Reed again. That was the only positive.
The new training facility in Henderson was close enough to Nellis AFB that you could smell the airplane fumes, and Max went there before going home, despite the aches and pains, despite the fact that she could barely walk, and despite the fact that she knew familial protocol demanded she go and hold Ella's hand. But Max was terrible at hand-holding, and she was physically unable to sit in her truck and drive around looking for her niece. So she went to the facility, which was large and hidden behind layers and layers of barbed wire, so far into nowhere that she'd have to drive over an hour to get there daily. But it was a good facility, and if she had even the slightest interest in training new, green paramilitary officers in how to kill people, she would have been in Heaven.
But there was a tiny silver lining. She had clearance for one thing - other than training - and one thing only: Dhaka. It was a suicide mission, but if she could get the official sale lists and the sale runners, she could get a clean file, a commendation, something other than this desert obstacle course. She wasn't up to it, not yet, but she'd get there. In the meantime, this was better than the office. And it was better than the General and his constant assignments that needed to be completed without question or opinion or thought.
Too tired and hurt to go home, she sent the driver away, and she found her office, intending to get in touch with HQ and Davis after a few minutes of rest. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow on the functional bunk that was tucked into the backroom.