The Hellion (collateralshot) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-05-19 16:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, agent carolina, dan smith |
Who: Mr. and Mrs. Smith (Dan Smith and Agent Carolina)
When: This morning
Where: Dan's Apartment
What: Carolina tells Dan she's been recalled & he's going to be investigated by the FBI.
Rating/Warnings: Mediumish for cursing and talks of murder
Status: Complete!
Carolina could count the number of times she had visited The Double Tap before February on one hand - for good reason. The bar had a reputation. A very deserved reputation, if the clientele and the nearby Slater Slums were anything to go by. Also one the current owner seemed to enjoy perpetuating. Still, it had been the only bar within walking distance of her old dingy apartment, so it had by default received her patronage whenever she had not felt like driving. Now, her dark green station wagon had practically become a regular fixture of the bar’s parking lot.
That’s what happens when you return from Vegas married to the owner.
Pocketing the keys, Carolina grabbed the stereotypical nondescript brown bag and headed to the back of the bar. The rickety stairs announced her arrival better than any doorbell. On a normal day she would enjoy the challenge the Ghetto Nightingale Stairs provided. Today, she barely noticed the creaking beneath her feet.
There was a lot to do before she reported for duty. A mountain of paperwork that had made California divorce papers look like cliff notes was waiting to be filled out and sorted on her laptop. A lot of those papers depended on the man living at the top of the stairs. A man who was about to find out exactly what it meant to be married, even temporarily, to a Marine officer.
Carolina was not under any illusion that this would be an easy conversation to have with her husband. Which was why she came prepared with a gift to ease the inevitable. The bag crinkled around the expensive bottle as she shifted it to her other hand. Any bottle would probably have eased things, but the sudden appearance of a top shelf whiskey was bound to make Dan more suspicious than grateful. Even though he’d get a kick out of how it came into her possession.
I guess I’ve learned something about him too. The ghost of an amused smile vanished as she reached the door. Carolina let out a slow breath, mentally preparing herself for the battle to come. Hopefully more figuratively than literally, but with them, one never knew for sure. She knocked on the door.
It was still several hours before the bar was supposed to open, and at least another two or three hours before Dan had to start doing any prep work – checking taps, replenishing bottles, cutting lemons, that kind of mindless chore work. Despite this, he was still awake fairly early. He’d gotten propositioned for a job a day or so ago, and was using the morning to go over the particulars to see if it was worth his time.
He was seated at the round metal breakfast table clad in his boxers and having his morning coffee and cigarette and looking over the file that had been handed to him, when he heard the creak on the stairs, the tell-tale sound that someone was on their way up. It grabbed his attention instantly. The only two people who knew where he lived were Ezio and Carolina, and he wasn’t expecting either at this hour – or at all.
With a grunt, he got to his feet. Cigarette placed between his lips, he retrieved his gun from his bedside table and cautiously made his way towards the door. The floor in his shitty apartment creaked just like the stairs, but the person on their way up was making enough noise that Dan doubted they’d hear him moving around. And even if they did, Dan didn’t really care. He wasn’t in the mood for this shit this early.
The person outside was making their way down the hall towards his apartment. They weren’t stopping at any of the other doors. There were no sounds of them attempting to jiggle any knobs or trying to gain access to any of the other apartments, so it wasn’t some transient inviting themselves in to get out of the sun. And it was also apparent whoever it was knew exactly which of the units was occupied. Dan pressed his back against the wall next to the door, gun at the ready, smoke trailing up from the cigarette clasped between his teeth and listened to the creaking footsteps as they made their way towards him.
Just as he had expected, the footsteps stopped outside his door. There was only a few sheets of plywood and ugly wood paneling between him and whoever was on the other side. He kept his eyes on the doorknob, expecting someone to attempt to jimmy it open in hopes of catching him unawares. The knock…well, that came as somewhat of a surprise. Carefully, Dan moved to peer through the peephole. The last person he expected to see on the other side was his wife.
“Jesus,” he swore under his breath, then called, “Yeah! ‘Ang on.” Then it was a hustle to collect the file on the table and squirrel it away along with this gun in the drawer of the bedside table. And Christ could his floor be any louder?!
It was a moment later when he opened the door – still clad in just his boxers and cigarette still in his mouth. “Mornin’, darlin’,” he tried to grin, but it was somewhat forced. “Whaddya doin’ ‘ere this early?”
Given the part of town Dan lived in, Carolina had expected her arrival to be challenged from somewhere to the side of the door itself. Possibly with some form of firearm or baseball bat. But Jesus, what the hell was he doing in there? There was a flurry of squeaks leading away from the door, a pause, and then another flurry that eventually made its way back to the door. Huh.
By the time Dan actually appeared, there was a look on her face. It was obvious from both the hurried cover as well as the not-quite-smile on his face that her arrival was ill-timed. Or well-timed, depending on how you look at it. Carolina had many memories of that exact same smile on her teammates’ faces. Those hadn’t fooled her either.
“Am I interrupting something?” Carolina arched an eyebrow, gaze passing over his shoulder and into the small apartment. Not that she expected anything to be there. Dan was many things, but careless was not one of them.
“Or someone?” The last came out in an amused drawl, eying his current state of dress. Or lack thereof. Fidelity had never been part of their agreement, but as much as she didn’t care if he was trying to hide his current bed partner from her, they needed to talk. Preferably without the bed candy within hearing distance.
Technically Carolina was interrupting something, just not what she thought she was. The look he gave her pretty much stated that. “Darlin’, if there was a lady in ‘ere, ya think I’d ‘ide ‘er from ya? Like alla sudden I’m worried aboutcha catchin’ me in bed wit’ another woman?” Moreover why would she care. They’d both agreed that they hadn’t expected the other to be faithful during this brief marriage. And it wasn’t as if she’d been concerned about whether or not she’d been interrupting anything before.
“Nah, there’s nobody else in ‘here,” he stated. He let the door swing wide so she could see for herself. He leaned against the door frame and his eyes fell on the bag she had in her hand. It was very obvious she was gripping the neck of a bottle through that bag. He raised a brow. Oh...kay. Dan liked his booze, but even he didn’t start off his morning with a liquid breakfast. Well, okay, sometimes breakfast consisted solely on a couple cups of coffee, but they weren’t Irish coffees. He wasn’t a complete walking stereotype.
Dark eyes moved back up to the red head. She looked very serious, even for her. Something was up and Dan was certain he wasn’t going to like whatever that something was. He sighed, rolled his eyes and pushed off from the door. “May as well come in,” he stated as he took the cigarette from his mouth and gestured her to come inside.
“Good.” Carolina stepped past Dan and headed inside. “We need to talk and it’s better if you can’t complain that I chased one of your darlin’s away.” Her eyes traced the room, noting the changes since the last time she had been in the apartment. If he wasn’t hiding a person, then paraphernalia was the next best bet. Dammit. This was going to be even worse than she had expected. Which was saying something.
The scent of fresh coffee lingered above the permeating smell of cigarette smoke and cheap wood. She debated asking him for a cup, but reluctantly decided that it would be a bad idea to add to the three cups she had already consumed that morning. Any more caffeine and she risked being too jittery to accurately aim her Beretta. Per usual, said pistol was tucked away in the purse she set on top of the breakfast table. The bottle soon followed, still snug in its paper bag. She would let him open that particular gift on his own.
Carolina turned back to face Dan, all traces of levity and teasing on her face vanishing like dew before the midday sun. She waited until the door was securely closed before speaking again. “I’ve been recalled to active duty.” Her words were quick and to the point; small talk had never been her style. Some things were beyond even Finishing School. “I report to Camp Pendleton at the end of the month.” After that, it was anyone’s guess where orders would send her.
Dan closed and locked the door behind Carolina when she entered. Originally his intent was to let her say or do whatever she felt she had to while he took a look at what was in that bag she’d brought. He’d even gotten so far as picking it up when she uttered the words “recalled” and “active duty”. Dan was no military man, but he had read enough in his day to know what that meant.
Carolina had stopped talking after making that statement, as if she were giving him the time to react. Dan felt a little on the spot. How was he supposed to react? Technically Carolina was his wife and he should have some reaction. He figured normal spouses would be concerned, maybe even upset to hear that their significant other had been called back to military service, especially in this time in which the world seemed like a powder keg just waiting for a spark.
As he took a moment to absorb what she’d said, he found that there was a part of him that was concerned. But he quickly brushed that aside. They were technically married, but not for long. Which brought up the question: what did that mean for their divorce?
“You don’ seem very ‘appy ‘bout that,” he observed. “So I guess it’d be outta line fer me t’ say congratulations.” He set the bagged bottle back down on the kitchen table and removed the cigarette from his mouth to flick ashes into the ashtray, “Are ya gonna report?”
“Of course I’m going to report.” The look Carolina gave him added the unspoken you idiot. That had never been a question. Well, at least not past the first few seconds she had received the orders. “Whether I’m happy about it has nothing to do with it.” She found it insulting that he would even think she wouldn’t. The military had always been her second family and until Vegas, she had figured the Corps would be the only husband she ever had.
“Not that you would care, but I have to resubmit the security application before I report.” Carolina paused, shifting to steel herself against the inevitable. “Since a few things have changed since I left, my clearance will likely be reviewed. Especially if they intend for me to have the same level as I did before.” Technically, she couldn’t tell him exactly what kind of clearance she had. Spouse or no. However, there was nothing that said she couldn’t insinuate just how little was not blacked out on her files.
“The part that you should care about is the fact that since the divorce won’t be final until the end of July, I’m going to have to list you as my husband.” Carolina crossed her arms, her stance almost daring him to challenge her. “Which means that your past is going to be investigated just as thoroughly as mine. Possibly more so, since I already have over a decade of service to justify my allegiances.” There it was. They lived in a post 9/11 world and there was no way the military was going to risk a security leak from a brand new husband of a Marine who’s mental health had been questioned for any reason.
Dan raised a brow at her. If she was at all pleased about this development, she sure as hell was doing a fantastic job of hiding it. It was a legitimate question to ask. As far as Dan was aware, she wasn’t exactly longing for the days she was in the service. But what really annoyed him wasn’t so much the way she was talking to him, but that he was bothered at all. Damn, this woman.
However, before Dan got the chance to brush off her tone calling him an idiot without actually having used the words, she dropped the bomb that he as her husband was going to be investigated. She was right. He did care about that. Very much. He resisted the urge to glance towards the drawer where that file was. He made a mental note of what his face was doing as well. He’d been doing this contract work for a while now and he was very good at covering his tracks. He would have been dead and buried in a lonely unmarked grave somewhere in a dump site, and that would have been the very premature end to Dan Smith, the Contractor.
So Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Awright,” he said. “Thanks fer the ‘eads up, I guess.”
“Alright?” Carolina arched a brow. “I tell you that you’re going to be investigated and interviewed by the military and the FBI, and that’s all you have to say?”
Carolina had watched Dan’s face carefully. First, to see if he gave away anything that would indicate what he had tried to hide from her. Second, to judge his reaction and see if whatever he was hiding was more embarrassing as opposed to illegal. To his credit, his stance gave nothing away. She was surprised to find herself oddly pleased at that. Proud, even. Still, she had been at enough card tables to know a poker face when she saw one. Even one as good as Dan’s.
Unfolding her arms, Carolina carefully rested her hands on the top of one of the chairs. “If there’s...anything, anything they might find…” A denied clearance level could ground her to an exceptionally boring or simple assignment overseas. Somewhere that didn’t require her to know anything beyond what direction to point her weapon. On the other hand, if she passed, there was a chance that she could petition for something that would keep her close to home. Close to her brother. “You need to tell me now.”
Dan arched the other brow. “What d’ya expect me t’ say?” He asked. “I’m not ‘appy ‘bout it. No one’s ‘appy t’ find out the feds are gonna be all up in their business. But it’s not like I can do anythin’ about it.” The idea of sitting in an interview room didn’t make him feel any better about this, but what was he going to do? Say no?
She was pressing him pretty hard. It reminded him a lot of when his father knew Dan had done something wrong, but didn’t quite have what he needed to prove it. Dan rolled his eyes. “Look, darlin’, I know we don’ exactly know each other that well, but relax. I’m not gonna do or say anythin’ that’s gonna fuck up your clearance, ok?” He gave her a smirk, “‘cause I’m sure you’ll kill me if I do.”
Calloused hands tightened against the chair. God, he was infuriating. Sure, she was worried that he would say or do something to mess up her clearance, but didn’t he have any sense of self preservation? Did he think that the FBI was going to be as accepting as she was that he had blatantly squirreled something away so that she wouldn’t see it? They would tear the entire bar to pieces if they even suspected that he was trying to hide something.
She shouldn’t care. If he was going to be so damn stubborn, she should just leave it at that so that if and when they did find something, she could truthfully say she had no idea. That would be the smart thing to do.
The internal debate continued for a long moment before Carolina finally gave in. Dan had accepted everything she had thrown at him and had even promised not to mess up her clearance on purpose. That meant a lot to her. For that alone, he deserved to see the rest of the cards in her hand. The last time she had looked into someone close to her, he had flipped out and gone into hiding. She had needed to threaten Wash’s comics in order to even get him to talk to her again. Still, it would have been stupid for her not to look into the person she had drunkenly married in Vegas.
This time she had made sure to keep the search quiet. To be fair, she had not found very much on the man named Dan Smith, but there had been one thing that had stuck out to her about his life before arriving in Orange County. A detail so innocuous that anyone else, anyone who hadn’t seen how accepting he had been about saddling a friend with thousands of dollars worth of debt out of spite, would likely have passed it off as mere coincidence. Carolina knew better. She knew how revenge could change a person. How far someone could have gone to see it through. She’d lived it. Twice.
“Dan,” Carolina began, the soft tone awkward against the tenseness of her shoulders. “I know about your father. How he was killed.” Green eyes met his, steady and without pity or judgement. “And what happened to the guy who killed him.”
Dan did not respond right away and his expression did not outwardly change. Inside, however, he was absolutely flipping his shit. Red alert alarm bells were practically blaring in his ears. She knew. Fuuuuuuck! Well, of course she would have had him checked out. She was former military -- only now not so former -- of course she would check him out! Idiot! Fucking moron! He should kick his own ass for letting himself get into this situation in the first place.
“That so?” He asked, his voice not so much as giving away the slightest hint about what was going on internally. He folded his arms across his bare chest, closing off his posture. He side eyed her purse and counted how many steps he needed to take to get to his gun. He would never make it before she placed a bullet directly between his shoulder blades. He’d have to take her down first and he did not relish having to make the attempt. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised ya’ve been doin a little homework on me. I don’ know what you think you’ve found out. So why don’ you tell me?”
Oh, he was good. Carolina grudgingly admitted that his reactions were on point with someone who honestly had no idea what she was talking about. An innocent man affronted with the idea that his soon-to-be-ex wife had been looking for skeletons in his closet. That was until she caught his attention shifting to the table. Specifically, the purse where she kept her gun. It wasn’t so much of a glance as a shift in his posture, defensive yet ready to move at a moment’s notice. A fighting stance.
“You wouldn’t make it.” She confirmed, ignoring his question for the moment. Shifting her weight, Carolina let her muscles relax completely. If he wanted to fight, she would damn well make sure he regretted that choice. She had a lot of frustration to work out and a part of her relished the thought of a good, no-holds-barred fight.
Nor would she insult him by holding back or underestimating his skills. Only once she was ready to defend herself did she answer properly. “I found an article about your father’s death. Several, actually, although it was obvious someone had tried to bury them. One made the mistake of mentioning the car used was owned by a mob boss’ son. Not that they implied he had anything to do with it, of course.” Carolina watched to see if her words garnered any response in the man.
“You left the police force not long after that. In fact, you practically disappeared off of the face of the earth.” Carolina’s foot inched forward. The chair would be good to block the first strike, but she would have to be careful not to let it block her line of sight or he would be able to get the jump on her. “It wasn’t until after the boss’ son had drunk himself to death that you seemed to magically reappear on the grid. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots.”
Unfortunately, her research was incomplete. There simply hadn’t been enough time for her to do a thorough check. It was more speculation and insinuation than hard evidence. Additionally, she had not had enough time to delve into what he had done after he left Chicago. The FBI, however, would not be as limited as she was in terms of contacts and resources. Nor would they care if it destroyed not one but two lives in the process.
“Now let me be clear. I don’t give a fuck whether you killed the guy or not. From everything I could find on the ass, he deserved everything that came to him.” Besides, it wasn’t as if she had any ground to stand on. She had killed a lot of people, both here and in the dreams, and for a lot less. “But if I can connect those dots, someone looking specifically for things just like this might catch it as well. So I’ll ask you one last time: is there anything for them to find?”
Dan’s back was pressed firmly against the proverbial wall. Who was this woman? Just who was she? For all Dan knew this was some kind of sting elaborately orchestrated by the very feds she was attempting to “warn” him about. The way she was pushing him, not accusing him, but trying to cajole him into a confession. Make sure you speak loud enough so the mic can hear you, Dannyboy.
There was no way anyone could convict him on the evidence (what little there was) surrounding the death of Pedro Montoya – That good for nothing P.O.S, who’s only accomplishment was that he was the son of a powerful man. But if Dan gave a confession and that confession was recorded, the good state of Illinois would have him locked up for good. Then it would only be a matter of time before he found himself at the wrong end of a hit.
Dan’s eyes narrowed as he went over his current options. Where would the wire have been? She wasn’t wearing a watch or any jewelry. So it was either a recorder in her bag, or under her clothing. He could have kicked himself for not thinking of putting on a pair of pants so he could have at least had his gun tucked in the waist band. Goddamn, but he was an absolute fool and he deserved everything that was coming to him.
He wasn’t going to go down without a fight. No way. He didn’t have a gun as leverage, but what he did have he hoped would be leverage enough. “Before I tell you anythin’, I want ya t’ empty your purse an’ let me take a good look at what’s inside. Then take off yer shirt and pants. If not, then you kin jus’ walk right on outta here, an’ we’ll both take our chances with what the FBI thinks they kin find.”
Carolina gave Dan an incredulous look before her glare was back in full force. There was only one reason why he would make those particular requests. He thought she was wearing a wire. You’ve got to be kidding me. Granted, she was more familiar with interrogation than in more surreptitious means of obtaining information, but if she had been looking for a confession, she would have at last tried to get him to let down his guard first.
“Fine.” The word was ground out as she slowly reached for her purse, careful not to startle him into doing anything stupid. “But if you try and aim one of my firearms at me, I can’t promise you will live to regret it.” Carolina opened her purse, pulling out her Beretta and an extra magazine. Both of those items were placed significantly closer to her than to him, for obvious reasons. After that came her wallet. The rest of the items were unceremoniously dumped onto the table before she tossed the empty purse at Dan.
Dan was patient. He met Carolina’s look with a firm one of his own. He wasn’t budging from his ultimatum, it was the only card he had in this very dangerous game. He nodded his head in understanding though. He wasn’t going to attempt anything unless she gave him reason. He snatched her purse out of the air, but didn’t do anything with it. He reached an arm out, then stopped, his eyes still on her, “I’m gonna check it, then I’m putting it back. I’m sorry, Carolina,” and in an odd way, he really was. He truly hadn’t wanted it to come to this. “but ye’ll forgive me if I’m not willin’ to make any assumptions.” He picked up the Beretta and ejected the magazine. He inspected both the mag and the gun for any modifications that did not improve the gun’s primary function. Finding none, he put the mag back and placed the gun back on the table.
He then turned his attention to the rest of the contents of the purse, quickly going over each item: lipstick, cell phone, wallet, folded bits of paper, anything that a small, but sensitive, microphone could be hidden in. Satisfied he moved on to the purse itself, turning it inside out and giving the lining a thorough inspection. There was nothing sewn into the lining or wedged into the pockets. He looked back at her. “Shirt and pants,” he reminded her.
Carolina understood caution. Contrary to the look she was giving him, she even approved of it. That didn’t mean she had to like her motives being questioned. Worse, considering how paranoid he was being, he definitely had something big to hide. Fuck. Hopefully she would be able to convince him to let her help make sure nothing came up on this background check. Or any check, really. “Let’s just get this over with.”
She kept a sharp eye on him as he checked her Beretta. Considering he was a former detective, she was not surprised that he was familiar with firearms, but the lack of trust went both ways right now. There was a slight lessening of tension in her shoulders when Dan finally returned the Beretta to the table. One down, one to go.
Carolina waited for him to finish inspecting her purse before moving on to the stripping part. At least he couldn’t tease her that it was flannel this time. Her fingers were steady and methodical, almost clinical, as she unbuttoned her shirt. She didn’t bother removing the garment completely since her dog tag chain, bra, and a women’s hip-hugging waist holster were in plain sight. Just to be thorough, Carolina pulled on the chain to reveal the dog tags that had been tucked away in her bra, even though he knew very well what they were.
As for the holster, well, that was a bit more tricky. “I’m going to pull out another pistol and magazine.” She warned, making sure to keep one hand open and raised while the other pulled out her backup sidearm, a M1911, as well as the extra magazine. One gun was usually sufficient for most people and most situations, but this was Orange County. After all the invasions that had occurred one after the other this year, Carolina had opted to start carrying a second if she was going to venture far from her armor or into dangerous territory. Visiting her husband had apparently qualified.
The hip holster was unhooked and thrown on the table. Boots were unlaced and set beside them. Her pants followed shortly after. “Anything else?” Carolina crossed her arms again. She was too angry and this conversation too important for seduction. Besides, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already seen her naked plenty of times already. The faster they got through this the faster they could actually get down to business.
Dan wasn’t enjoying this anymore than Carolina was, but he had good reason to be wary and he had to be 100% positive that this wasn’t some kind of trap. She was the one who had come to his apartment and interrupted his morning with this freaking bombshell.
As she disrobed, he checked the brown paper bag on the table and it’s contents. All that was inside was a bottle of whiskey, and damn fine and expensive one at that. A peace offering, maybe? Dan had little time to question. Once it was clear there was nothing else hidden in the bag, his attention was back on the marine.
There wasn’t much left on her in which a microphone or wire could be concealed. He could have told her to remove the bra and underwear, but both of those articles weren’t leaving much to the imagination. Anything hidden within them would have been seen without having Carolina shed them as well. “No,” he told her. He was sure to step around her to be sure nothing was strapped to her back or under her arms. Satisfied there was nothing literally on her person, he turned his attention to her clothes.
He inspected them as thoroughly as he inspected the lining of her purse. No wires, no bugs. Good. Once he was done he handed her back her clothes. It was doubtful she’d want to remain mostly naked during the next part of their conversation.
As Carolina got dressed again, Dan sat down in one of the chairs at the table. He took out a new cigarette and lighted it. She had done what he’d asked, now it was his turn. “I killed Pedro Montoya,” he told her after a drag. There was no hint of remorse for that fact in his voice. “He ran my father down one night while he was on his beat. There was a witness who ‘ad seen it. Shop owner ‘o knew my da. ‘E told the investigatin’ officers what ‘e saw once. Jus’ once an’ then he clammed up. But we ‘ad the license plate number, a simple run an’ we knew ‘o the car belonged to. But that was as far as it got. I pushed, but all I got was pushback until finally I was forced to resign. So, if my brothers in blue weren’ gonna do anythin’, I knew I ‘ad t’do it myself. So I did. I drowned that son of a bitch in his daddy’s pool.”
Carolina’s fingers did not pause at Dan’s admission, but her eyes did jump up to judge the look on his face. “I’m sorry about your father.” She said after he finished. And she was. There may not have been a very good relationship between her and her father, but if someone had killed the good doctor, she would want to make sure that justice was served as well. Even if she had to serve it herself.
Pants, waist holder and Colt back in place, Carolina sat down at the table across from Dan. “And I’m sorry to bring all of this up, but if they’re going to be looking into your past, then we need to make sure that there’s nothing for them to find. For your sake, as well as mine. So let’s go over it before they do.” She rested her arms on the table. While her squad was usually the one doing the killing, not the cleaning, there had been a few times when both had been necessary. “Was it a forced drowning or assisted suicide? What about witnesses? Those guys are never without a guard or two at all times.”
Dan laughed, although the sound had little humor behind it. “I was the bodyguard, darlin’,” he said. “Took me over a year to worm my way into their ranks. I ‘ad to give up everythin’ I thought I stood fer. I ‘ad t’ stop bein’ Dan Smith. It was ‘ard, at first, but I got used t’ it. An’ it was all worth it. That evenin’ when I ‘ad ‘im alone I got’im drunk. Easy t’ do. The only thing the kid was good at was gettin’ drunk. Then it was jus’ a matter o’ gettin’ ‘im inta the pool. Easy. An’ once ‘e was there,” Dan held his hands out as if simulating pushing someone down, “all I ‘ad t’ do was hold’im under. It took a lot longer’en I thought it would, but ‘e stopped strugglin’ eventually,” Dan let his hands fall back to the table, “an’ ‘e jus’ floated. Course that was the end o’ my career as a bodyguard. Got the shit reemed outta me fer not keepin’ an eye on the little fucker, an’ it was right back to bein’ an errand boy. After’at, I jus’ faded away.”
Dan took a drag from his cigarette. He’d said this much, may as well say the rest. “I learned somethin’ ‘bout myself. I learned I could kill an’ I learned I was good at it. My career as a cop was over, so I thought, why not make a livin’ outta it?” He looked at Carolina carefully. “That all the skeletons ya wanted t’ know?”
“It always takes longer than you think.” At least, the first time. Carolina nodded absently, picturing the scenario. It wasn’t difficult. She had to admit it was a good plan. Granted, it required that he compromise everything about himself, but the act of killing tended to do that anyway. “What about bruises from where you held him down? Any defensive wounds or accidental scrapes against the side of the pool? Any audio bugs the FBI might have planted?”
HIs next words finally registered and her head snapped up. “Make a living out of it?” It didn’t take a genius to figure out what Dan meant. God dammit. Out of all Lee’s friends, she had to end up married to not only a Dreamer, not just a vigilante, but a fucking hitman for hire. Suddenly the name of his bar took on an entirely new meaning. God fucking dammit.
Carolina’s scowl reappeared once again. To be fair, it had never really left for very long. “Please tell me you don’t have any active warrants. If there’s a file on you sitting on some government agent’s desk, so help me…” She trailed off with a growl.
Dan blew out a cloud of smoke. “Fuck, I ‘ope not,” he said. “It’s not good customer service leavin’ a trail o’ breadcrumbs leadin’ right back t’ my door. I make sure there be no connection t’ me or t’ my clients. Ya know ‘ow many crimes go unsolved in a single year, darlin’? When I’m on a job, I think like a cop, I jus’ don’ ‘ave the conscience o’ one.”
He leaned back in his chair and took another drag off his cigarette. “As fer bruises an’ shit, I wasn’ very practiced back then, so there were probably some. I dunno, I was outta there before the body was even in tha ground. But I kept an eye on what was goin’ on. Ya think a mob boss is gonna report a murder t’ the local police? Even if they were on the take -- an’ make no mistake, they are -- that’s jus’ openin’ themselves up fer all kinds of scrutiny they don’ want or need.”
More smoke was exhaled from his lungs. That wasn’t to say that the Montoya Family hadn’t figured out who he was and had a hit out on him. It had been years since Pedro’s death, but memories could be long and the FBI wasn’t the only entity Dan had reason to be wary of.
“The house was routinely swept fer bugs,” he finished. “None were ever found while I worked directly fer the family.” He eyed Carolina very carefully. “So now ya know. What ‘appens next? Ya gonna turn me in?”
“Do you want me to turn you in?” Doubtful. Not many people would willingly turn themselves in without a good reason. Somehow she doubted ‘doing the right thing’ was a good enough reason for Dan. With a sigh, Carolina leaned back and took a moment to think. Even if she did turn him in, her judgment could still be called into question for marrying him in the first place. Hell, if anyone ever put two and two together and realized that the two of them hadn’t even met before Vegas, her judgment would be called into question anyway.
One hand came up to rub her temples. A headache was forming and she doubted it was going to go away anytime soon. The last thing they needed right now was some gung-ho investigator pulling up the coroner’s report and looking into possible foul play. Hopefully Dan had managed to stay out of any pictures. Besides, he had a point. It was far more likely that the mob would be the one with his name on their hit list as opposed to the police or FBI.
Carolina eyed his cigarette before looking back at Dan. After a long silence, she finally came to a decision. “No, I’m not going to turn you in. I know you didn’t ask for this any more than I did, but what’s done is done.” Her shoulders squared off as she fully accepted the decision. She never did know when to walk away. “You’re my husband, so as long as you’re not aiding terrorists or actively acting against the country, I’ll do my best to protect you and whatever skeletons you have hidden away.” It was her fault he was going to be investigated anyway, so she would suck it up and take responsibility for it. God help her.
Dan stared at her, legitimately surprised at her answer. Was she insane? If she turned him in she could have easily claimed that she had married him in order to gain his trust and turn him over to the proper authorities. Who were the feds more likely to believe, a rogue cop, or a decorated veteran?
You’re my husband….I’ll do my best to protect you… Dan’d had plenty of clients who’d wanted their spouses dead. Not one of them had ever been concerned about protecting the person they had once confessed to love. And here was Carolina...she barely even knew him.
God help them both.
“I’m not aidin’ any terrorists,” he felt compelled to say, “an’ despite what I do fer a livin’, I’m still a patriot.” Dan did have his standards. Along with not involving children, Dan wanted nothing to do with anything that went against the country he called home.
He was quiet a moment, cigarette burning between his fingers. He looked at Carolina carefully, as if trying to make up his mind about this surprising wife of his. He was probably just as crazy as she was. A match truly made in heaven. He set his cigarette down and took the class-like Flame Ring ring from his finger. He looked at it carefully before he held it out to the woman across from him. “Take this,” he told her. “I know marines don’ wear rings, but havin’ somethin’ that shoots flame with a thought may come in handy if yer gonna be on active duty.”
Carolina looked at the ring in Dan’s hand. Her face had gone completely blank at the sight of it. To say that she was surprised would be an understatement. “We do, actually. Just...not very many of them. Or out in the field.” She replied automatically, her brain trying frantically to figure out what was going on. “Officers typically wear their class rings. Some have promise rings or wedding bands. Granted, I’ve never heard of anyone wearing a ring that shoots flames.” Was this his way of thanking her for not turning him in? A bribe to keep her quiet? Did he not trust her to keep her word?
Reaching out, she cautiously took the ring from him. “Never been given one before, though.” Carolina murmured, mostly to herself. She’d bought her own class ring from the Academy and while her father had given her the Church family rings, it had been closer to the passing of an heirloom than the receiving of a gift. Besides, those were Wash’s now.
Dan was right, though. Regardless of his motives, something like that could be incredibly useful out in the field. Might even save her life. “Thank you.” Green eyes were sincere as they looked back up at him. It was a man’s ring, likely too big to stay on her finger. Not wanting to risk losing it, Carolina pulled out her dog tags. Moments later the ring was hanging beside the stamped tags, all three cradled in her hands. Speaking about her life… that was another thing to consider. She ran a finger over the surreal looking jewel.
“As my spouse, you’re automatically listed as my primary next of kin. Otherwise, that would fall to my father.” Not her brother, regardless of how much she would rather he be notified first. “You’d also be the one who would receive my survivor’s benefits if I don’t make it back.” Carolina had a track record of never getting hit, but no one could tell when that kind of luck was going to end. She’d never had to have this conversation before, nor had she thought she would ever have to. Aw hell, might as well get it all out now. She was absolute crap when it came to matters of the heart, so what was another awkward conversation?
Carolina let go of the dog tags so that she could give Dan her full attention. “I don’t have much - you saw that in the assets section of our divorce papers - and maybe I’m getting sentimental in my old age, but I wouldn’t mind being able to leave something like my benefits behind for someone.” She was not going to beg. It was hard enough to try and ask without asking. As long as Wash got her flag, she shouldn’t care what else happened. Shouldn’t. “You don’t have to answer right now. In fact, you don’t have to answer at all. Just... think about it.”
Dan was going to get whiplash with the way this visit was going back and forth. “Wait, wait, wait,” he held up a hand. “Are you sayin’ ya want t’ stay married? To me. After everythin’ I just told you.” He could understand the desire to want to have someone waiting at home, or even having someone to receive survivor’s benefits, but god damn, there had to be someone better then him to leave anything to. Someone safe, someone secure, someone who didn’t run the risk of getting her security clearance revoked, or worse yet, fucking court martialed.
“I’m saying I’m giving you the option. You’re going to get investigated either way.” There wasn’t really anyone else she could ask, either. She wasn’t about to let the military or FBI get anywhere near Kanan and marrying York would be...complicated. For both of them. “Look, I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with, much less be married to, so I understand if you’d rather wait out the last few months of the divorce and then part ways.”
Carolina grit her teeth. God, she probably sounded desperate. Wanting to stay married to a hitman. She couldn’t blame him for being incredulous. The truth was she didn’t care. He may have been paid to kill, but she was willing to bet that bottle of whiskey she had brought that she had done everything he had been paid to do and more at the behest of the US government. Unfortunately, there was not really a way to explain that without giving away exactly what her missions had entailed.
Desperate? No. Lonely? Yeah, maybe a little. Jesus Christ, what kind of life had this woman lead that being married to a “contractor” seemed like an option at all, much less an option she was ok with. And the fuck was this talk about her not being the easiest person to be married to? It was as if he hadn’t just made her strip and gone through her stuff like some paranoid psycho.
Aww, hell. Now Dan felt like an ass. He didn’t pity Carolina. He actually empathized with her. If their positions were reversed, Dan couldn’t say he wouldn’t be any different. He sat back again with a grunt. He took a drag from his cigarette and waved a dismissive hand. “Ya gotta be kiddin’ me,” he said through a puff of smoke. “Bein’ married t’ you ‘as been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Minus the ‘ole showin’ up ‘ere outta the blue an’ tellin’ me I’m gonna have the FBI and the U.S. Marines up my butt. But that’s ‘ardly yer fault, darlin’.”
The cigarette was placed between his lips so he could reach for that bottle of whiskey she had brought, now obviously some kind of peace offering. “Ya didn’ go all psycho bitch on me when we woke up in Vegas,” he went on as he uncapped the bottle. “Ya ‘aven’t killed me,” he smirked a little teasingly, “yet. And yer gonna keep me little secret a secret. So the way I see it, it’s actually t’ my benefit to stay married. And the tax credit? Phew, that’ll help us both.”
He drained the rest of his coffee and poured two fingers worth of the whiskey into the mug. “So I’ll tell ya what, Carolina. We’ll put the kibosh on the divorce, at least while yer still on active duty. When the Marines decide t’ letcha go again, we’ll revisit the issue. And if, God forbid, somethin’ does ‘appen t’ ya, I’ll make sure that brother o’ yers gets those benefits.” He slid the mug towards her. “That sound good t’ ya?”
Now it was Carolina’s turn to give him a suspicious look. The easiest thing he’d ever done?! Sure, the two of them didn’t live in the same apartment, nor did they have to see one another every day, but since they had returned from Vegas they had fought every time the two of them had been in the same room. She had the urge to ask to record the statement because she was certain no one who knew her would believe it.
“One might argue I was already a psycho bitch before Vegas.” Carolina arched an eyebrow. At least it seemed as if he had finally accepted her peace offering. In her mind, the strip search had been deemed necessary to have this conversation and proved that he at least had some semblance of self-preservation. She hadn’t thought about the tax benefit part, though. Considering the military already had a reputation for splitting family, as long as they weren’t applying for base housing, they wouldn’t care if they lived in the same place either.
It was also rare that he wouldn’t blame her for the fact that he was about to get his life turned upside down by the government. Sure, she had no choice in the matter, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t blame her anyway. She had met many, many military spouses who felt that way. On top of everything, he was even offering to give her survivor benefits to her brother instead of keeping them for himself. She narrowed her eyes. Hitmen were rarely this altruistic, but she couldn’t find the catch. Perhaps he felt like this was his way of paying her off for keeping his secret? She snorted. Oh, if he only knew.
“Alright. We’ll stay married. For better or for worse.” Carolina took the mug. It was too early for a drink, but this level of reckless insanity deserved a booze chaser. She lifted it in a form of cheers before taking a sip. Jesus, that was smooth. With any luck, the Colonel would want the second bottle even more than the owner of this one had cried when he lost it to her.
A sudden thought made her smirk a bit. “You do realize that you’re going to have to meet my brother now.” Carolina set the mug back down on the table. “You know, to make sure he doesn’t shoot you if you show up at the apartment without me.”
“Well, ya did tell me ya wanted a divorce without even sayin’ ‘good morning’ first,” Dan admitted with a smirk. “That was a bit bitchy.” He’d gotten to his feet to get another mug to pour another two fingers of whiskey in for himself. He came back to the table to see her eyeing him with suspicion. Dan raised a brow at her. “Whaddya lookin’ at me like that for? I toldcha that this is in my best interest too.” He sat down again and poured himself two fingers of alcohol.
He had the mug half way to his mouth when Carolina announced he would have to meet her brother. He made a face at her. “Do I ‘afta? I mean, I’m given tha man yer benefits. I don’t really have to meet’im, do I?”
“I did say ‘morning. That hangover of yours must’ve been worse than you thought.” Carolina insisted. Her fingers curled around the mug as she pulled it back to her. “How is giving away my survivor’s benefit to your benefit?” Especially since she had already agreed to keep his secret. Was it pity? God, she hoped not. This was good whiskey, but it wasn’t nearly good enough to smooth over the hackles that would be raised if she thought he was pitying her.
Carolina shrugged. “You might not have a choice. Can’t blame him for wanting to meet the guy his sister’s married to. I figure it’s better if I’m still in the country when that happens.” Her eyes gave him another look over the top of the mug. “No alcohol. Wash doesn’t drink.” At least, he had better not be drinking. She was not above getting York to shake him down or perform a spot check of the apartment if she wasn’t there to do so.
Dan looked at her incredulously. “You want them t’ go t yer brother, right?” He asked. “And anythin’ that keeps me alive another day is to my benefit.” He took a hit from the mug. It seemed as though he wasn’t going to get out of meeting the brother. He grunted in response. “What kinda marine doesn’t drink?’
“Of course I do, but keeping your occupation under wraps isn’t exactly contingent upon that.” Frankly, he was doing her a favor by indulging her sentimentality. Still. That didn’t mean she was going to let him get away with everything. Carolina’s eyes narrowed dangerously at Dan. “Wash is a damn good Marine. Drinking or not drinking has nothing to do with that.” He was free to insult her anytime, but her brother and her squad were off limits.
Not intimidated by the dangerous look, Dan raised a brow. “I didn’ say he wasn’ a good Marine,” he commented. “It’s jus’ strikes me as weird that he doesn’ drink. But if ya say no alcohol, than no alcohol. Prolly can’t meet’im ‘ere, then.” He reached for the bottle again. At least he could use the excuse of his bar to avoid having even one more person know where he lived.
“...Fine. You might as well come over to our place.” All things considered, it was probably best not to bring a recovering alcoholic anywhere near a bar. Carolina was not entirely pleased to host the get together, but the damn thing had been her idea so she might as well host. It wasn’t as if Dan didn’t have her address from the divorce papers. Plus, it would be easier to make sure that Wash wouldn’t be tempted by whatever spirits Dan had about.
And Dan had a lot of spirits about. Not just down stairs in the bar, but up in his apartment as well. The only bottle that was out was the whiskey bottle, but his fridge was extremely well stocked, as at least one of his cabinets.
He smirked at her a little teasingly, not enough to be mean, but to lighten the mood as best he could. “So I finally git t’ see where ya live?” He asked. It was only fair. Carolina had seen his place on more than one occasion and Carolina had insisted he meet her family. “Awright,” he shrugged. “Seein’ as yer insistin’, jus’ tell me when an’ where and we’ll do this thing.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. The bedroom is off limits.” Carolina didn’t like people in her room. In fact, only three people had actually been in her room, one of which was Wash. Wash. Before this meeting could happen she was going to have to break the news to her brother. And her boss. God, Shepard was going to laugh her ass off. Kanan would probably understand. York probably would not. Just as long as Lee never found out.
Carolina finished off the remaining whiskey in her mug and slid it down the table. “Do you cook?” Better late than never to get to know your spouse, right?