By Absinthe Chapter 16: Just after midnight, the laden station wagon pulled up outside of a row of battered aluminum storage buildings. They were relatively isolated in the generally ignored countryside of NY state. "It never ceases to amaze me how different two places so close together can be." Sarah said, stretching and looking around at the frozen trees. "Mhmm." Maia noncommittally replied, striding confidently down the row of sliding doors, ticking off the numbers above them. She stopped at number 15 and twiddled with the combination lock on the door. She drummed her short nails on her lips. "What's the matter?" Sarah asked from behind. "Can't remember the combination?" "Its been five years." Maia defensively returned. "Whooee, you really paid ahead on your rental. Was it the one that came with the lock?" "No. Had it changed thank you." "Was it your birthday?" "No." "Was it your mother's birthday?" "Will you be quiet and let me think??" Maia commanded playfully. "Sorry." Sarah took to drawing in the dirt with her toes. She looked up at the sound of the door rattling in its rusty tracks. A click from inside heralded the flickering activation of a plain light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Sarah wandered into the dusty room. The cement floor held the temperature, and made the interior seem even colder than outside. Looking around, Sarah was first struck by the emptiness of the storage room. "Um. Excuse me for asking a stupid question, but isn't the idea of renting a big room like this to have stuff in it?" She held out her hands and pursed her lips, striking a mock-baffled pose. Maia walked to the back wall, scooped a duffel bag up off of a hook hanging from one of the raw 2 x 4s the composed the cheaply built structure, and bent down to rifle through a box on the floor. "There is stuff here. I'm sorry, but there's very little to be found in the way of storage space between two by two rental lockers, and these things." Maia tossed back over her aching shoulder. Over the counter painkillers my ass. she thought, They're not killing anything. Giving up, Maia hefted the box up onto her hip, wishing for the umpteenth time that night that she had the use of her right arm. Sarah frowned and wrapped her fingers around the bag's strap. "You'll hurt yourself worse." She chided, sliding the nylon strap off of Maia's arm. It was unexpectedly heavy, however, and she fell forward, dropping it solidly onto the concrete. Maia rolled her eyes. "It's my RIGHT shoulder." She sighed and handed Sarah the box, which was lighter, and hefted the duffel back up. "I'm not gonna ask what's in there." Sarah retorted, exasperated, and returned to the car. Maia put out the light and stood in the dark for a moment, the whole detour was making her uneasy. They say that history repeats itself. Maia cast a fervent prayer to whoever might be listening that it didn't replay to the letter. She tucked the lock into her pocket, its frozen weight pulled her ill fitting down on one side. Ignoring it, Maia left the door open to alert the place's owner to the new vacancy, and got back into the car. She felt more than a little guilty at making Sarah drive for so long, so late at night, but it had been the woman's own decision to come, and the Volvo was a standard transmission. Maia silently cursed her own helplessness as she watched the trees lining the road gradually block out the lamplight from the parking lot of the storage buildings. Trying to take her mind off of it, she rummaged through the bag now resting on the floorboard between her feet. Its contents smelled of leather and marijuana. She'd forgotten about that, though now the drug seemed tame and childish. Punching the button for the power window, she opened the little ziplock baggie and tossed the aged stuff out of the car. Sarah glanced over quizzically several times during the procedure, but didn't say anything for once. "What we're doing is wrong." Sean snapped. "Is it?" Maia asked deliberately. The stood facing each other outside of a small coffee bar on 22nd street. She started walking away from the shop, pulling him with her. "How can you be so sure about everything? What gives them eh right to set themselves up as judges and us as executioners? For all we know we're killing innocent people." "Read the papers." "You know as well as I do that they can be manipulated." "Well, then I can only assure that we aren't." Maia shrugged. "Sometimes we lose a few, but is anyone truly innocent?" "Maia, you're not really listening to me." The walked past a man playing a harmonica. Maia tossed him a dollar. "I'm listening to you all right. Do you think any of us haven't had these same doubts? Maybe there are no innocents or guilty, good or bad, only lesser degrees of evil." Maia gave him an intense look. It was important that they think you were sincere, and that you were sharing a piece of yourself that no one else had seen. She wasn't sure the was on the right tack though. Steve was her first agent to be so emotionally committed to his doubts. She was, however, known in Section for her ability to deal with her people and keep them under control. She had never had one freeze up on her. "We're murderers!" Sean nearly shouted. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't already a murderer Sean. That's why we're all here. And so are they. Or we wouldn't be going after them. We prevent further deaths. You can't second guess everything all the time. Just believe that we're working for the greater good." "People can change. Yes I did kill someone before Section, and I've regretted from the moment it happened. I'm not sure I can keep doing this." "Well, now you have no choice. Just try to stay alive Sean. Don't do anything stupid. Please." Maia turned on her best pleading face. He swallowed hard. "How can you be so blind?" He was whispering then, "It's not just about us. How are we worth more than the terrorists we kill? Isn't terrorist just the word the big army calls the little one?" "They're dangerous people. We're here to make sure they're shut down. If we have to do it by killing them, then so be it." Sean was unconvinced. Maia was perplexed. She had never been bothered by what they did. She'd made a living from death and destruction before Section, and continued to stay alive by using those same skills. Sean's arguments did not impact her at the time, but they waited, crouching in her brain to take root later. When Sean gave out on a mission and failed to do his part, Maia was forced to take the matter to Amanda. "I'm surprised Maia." The blonde had said, "Your track record so far has been flawless. You're usually so good with your agents." Maia merely shrugged, "He was listening to conscience, not to me. I don't think he's salvageable. He's been fighting me from the beginning really." "All right. I want him pulled. Tell him he's relieved until he can pull himself together." Amanda turned away, signaling the end of the interview. Maia turned on her boot heel and stalked out of the office. Sean had just signed his own death certificate. He would be allowed to live until Ops could set up a suicide mission. They liked to make other people to the dirty work of corpse disposal whenever possible. The mission came a month later. Maia headed it, taking with her four agents all slated for termination. One was a middle aged woman, another wore an eye patch. Each of them were marked in some way either by time or injury that made them useless to Section. Maia remained in the van with Control. When the agents had planted the explosives, she ordered them to hold their positions. "Maia?" Sean's voice was tinny through the headset, "Isn't this shaving it a bit close?" Jimmy, seated next to her at Control, opened his mouth a few times. He wanted to protest, but the look in Maia's cold blue eyes warned him that a word may take him one step closer to his own demise. There were 20 seconds left on the clock, but Maia had orders to speed things up a little. She hit the remote detonator. The van vibrated with the first shockwave from the explosion. A screeching noise filled the air. Maia rolled out of the bed and onto the balls of her feet, ready to fight if she had to. Her first waking thought was They're here.. Outside, a garbage collection truck stopped backing up and the noise ceased. Maia ran to the flimsy door and fumbled with the lock. She nearly fell through it when the door opened outwards. She stumble outside, barefoot, wearing the shirt she'd been wearing the day before and little else. Sarah sat up in bed when the cold, January air hit her face. She sleepily pushed back the covers, not waking fully until her feet touched the frozen cement stoop of the cheap hotel. "Maia? Are you insane?" She shouted, her suspicions as to the woman's mental stability were abruptly reinforced. Maia laughed throatily. She jumped back up onto the stoop and grabbed Sarah around the waist, pulled her close and lifting her off her feet, spinning them both around a few times ecstatically. Sarah held on for dear life. "It's over." Maia laughed, finally setting Sarah back on her own feet. Dizzily, the blonde gazed up at those baby blues, which were for the moment anyway, joyous. In front of a shabby hotel with sagging floors and an internal miasma of mothballs, Sarah realized that what she'd thought of as life before was nothing compared to what lay ahead. Coming to herself, she tugged Maia back inside. Rubbing her icy toes against the dubious carpeting in an attempt to warm them back up, Maia said, "Why don't you go ahead and shower, I'll," she glanced at the clock, "go find us some lunch." "Are you trying to say something?" Sarah teased, but tossed Maia her pants anyway. The art dealer looked around them in disgust. "This place looks a lot worse in daylight." She complained. "Yeah, well, it was better than you passing out in the driver's seat." Maia snorted. After a rather makeshift meal, Maia shook out the wrinkled articles of clothing that she'd packed away five years previously in anticipation of being on the run. She'd known then that Steve was up to something, and that it might have been years before she'd be able to get to the stuff. There were a few shirts, some jeans, underwear, and emergency cash, and "supplies." Everything was carefully packaged in sealable plastic bags. The most fragrant of the "supplies," Maia had tossed out the car window already. Taking the bag into the bathroom with her, Maia flushed nearly two hundred dollars worth of heroin down the toilet. That done, she struggled into some of the slightly musty clothes and re-closed the heavy bag. "Wow." Sarah appreciatively announced. "I'm just lucky they still fit at all." Maia turned around once to show off the old jeans and the skin tight t-shirt. "I think I like you in leather better though." Back to Chapter 15 Back to The Beginning Back to the fic page
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