Previous Entry Share Next Entry
Partial Pay Back; Faceless Fic
matching clothing
rogoblue
I did this as an exercise to see if I could capture the essence of something with only one episode available. And to get Laurence Dominic out of my head for a little while. I’ll be interested to see how folks think I did.

Story: Partial Pay Back
Rating: R (language and violence)
Author: rogoblue
Summary: Marcus Ambrose (Reed) gets a call from Eddie Prey (Sean Bean) that demands action.
Words: 2,100
Spoilers: The basic premise and such of the pilot of Faceless
Disclaimers: The toys are John Carnahan’s (I think). The idea is mine.





Marcus Ambrose leaned back in his chair, feet on his desk, reviewing the latest reports filed by the field agents assigned to Diana Palos’ project. Rubbing tired eyes, he committed even the smallest of details to memory. Focused, he almost didn’t register the ring tone of his cell phone. Muttering under his breath at the interruption, he said, “Ambrose.”

“If you care for Diana at all, be quiet and listen.”

Startled into silence, Marcus did as he was bid.

“The man providing her police protection is the one who shot me, Marcus.”

“John?” Marcus murmured.

“Not anymore,” Eddie said. “They wanted to know what she knew about their organization, what leads she had, where she might turn her attention next. I’m not sure what she’s told or not told them, but they’ve decided she’s just a loose end to be tied off. Today. Tomorrow. Soon. Go, Marcus.”

“But how do you—.”

“She’s at home,” Eddie said. “I can’t get there, Marcus. It has to be you. Go!”

Marcus rose before the call was terminated. He checked his sidearm, grabbed his suit jacket and stepped out of his office.

“Boss man wants to see you, Ambrose,” Juanita called from down the hall.

“You didn’t see me, sweetheart,” Marcus said, aiming his best boyish smile her way. “I was already gone.”

“You in trouble, Marcus?” Juanita asked.

“Not yet,” he replied. “I was already gone, Juanita, ok?” Her nod freed him to sprint for his car.

* * *

Taking a deep breath, closing his eyes to center himself, Marcus knocked on Diana’s door. Answer it. I’ll pull you out here, hand you my car keys and get you out of fucking harm’s way. C’mon, Diana. Give me what I want, for once.

“Who is it?” Diana called.

“Marcus,” he said. “The guy you land on when you take your falls, because he usually gets his ass kicked first.” Her laughter drew a smile, despite what he’d come here to do.

“Come in, Marcus.”

Damn. He tried the door, hoping in vain for it to be locked, requiring her to come to the door. It wasn’t. Fuck. He instinctively dismissed the idea to pretend it was locked as too unpredictable. “Diana?” he called, opening the door slowly. “Where are you?”

“The kitchen.”

Uh oh. “Um … are you … cooking?”

“Yes.”

Marcus winced. Diana was many things. She had myriad talents. Cooking wasn’t one of them. John had once described her homemade pizza as ketchup on a cracker. “Is it safe to join you?” he asked.

“Ha, ha, smartass,” she said. “There’s no smoke, so there can’t be fire.”

He paused at the threshold of the kitchen, eyes searching and not finding officer Mayles. “Where’s your bodyguard?” he asked.

“Here, sir,” Mayles said, voice cheerful, confident, sounding from behind Marcus.

Maintaining a relaxed posture, Marcus turned, staying in the doorway to the kitchen to take away Mayles’ sightline to Diana. Hard blue eyes met and locked with Mayles’. The alleged cop’s eyes widened. He knows I know. Marcus’ hand flew for his gun. Mayles drew as well. Peripherally aware of Diana’s scream, Marcus raised his sidearm and fired.

Pain flared in Marcus’ left thigh and shoulder, as he watched Mayles fall. Marcus wasn’t sure what damage the two bullets to the chest had done—they’d served their purpose of throwing off Mayles’ aim. The bullet to Mayles’ throat sealed the deal. Something major had been severed—the carotid, maybe—because blood sprayed from the wound around Diana’s living room. She’s probably going to have to replace most of her furniture. Damn, Diana’s going to be pissed. The thought sent Marcus into a slow spin.

Diana stared at him like she’d never seen him before, frozen with a ladle raised half way to her lips.

“Are you all right?” Marcus asked, voice sounding odd to his own ears.

“Marcus!” Diana dropped the ladle into the pot. “My God, Marcus.” She came around her kitchen island with speed. “You’re bleeding.”

“Not as much as him,” Marcus felt the need to point out, gesturing behind himself, looking over his shoulder at the mess in the living room. “Not nearly.”

Diana stepped into Marcus’ personal space. Framing his face with her hands, she focused his attention. She looks awesome in blue.

“What’s going on, Marcus? What just happened?” She looked past him and blanched. “Why do I have a dead man in my living room?” Frowning, she asked, “Is he dead?”

His eyes slid to the mess of Mayles on Diana’s floor. “Yeah, or nearly,” Marcus said, walking to the edge of the spreading bloodstain, surprised by the sudden desire to step closer and take out some of his frustration and anger on the body. He took a deep breath. Feeling slightly dizzy, he took another. Here’s partial payment of the debt I owe you, John.

“Marcus,” Diana whispered. “Talk to me.”

“He killed John’s family,” Marcus said, tone flat, almost robotic.

“Excuse me?”

“This … this …” The desire to do something more to Mayles … something worse … welled up within him again. “This piece of shit shot John and killed his family.”

“How can you possibly know that?” she demanded, taking his hand, drawing his eyes with her intensity.

“John told me.”

“I need to sit down,” Diana said, wind clearly knocked out of her sails.

“Me too,” Marcus said, swaying slightly. “Do you have a towel or something?”

“Do you seriously think this carpet is salvageable?” she countered, sinking down onto the floor, drawing Marcus along with her. Staring into his eyes, as if to determine if she still knew him, she said, “I’ll be right back.”

Marcus watched her race into the kitchen. She emerged moments later with several towels and two glasses with ice in them. Placing the glasses on the coffee table, she pressed a large towel onto the wound on his thigh. “You should keep pressure on that,” she advised, moving to her liquor cabinet. “It’s bleeding quite a bit.” Staring at her liquor selection, Diana said, “What’s our story?”

“He threatened to kill you because of your involvement in John’s RICO case and was about to carry out that threat when I arrived. Shots were fired. It was all very confusing. You were just grateful that the guy you’ve known and secretly loved for a long time was the one left standing.” Marcus suspected Diana did him the courtesy of not letting him see the roll of her eyes.

Handing him a glass containing an amber liquid, sitting back down next to him, she asked, “What’s your part of the story?”

“I got an anonymous tip that something bad was going down with you. I arrived in time to see Mayles manhandle you and threaten to kill you. Speaking of which,” Marcus put down his glass and grabbed Diana by the upper arms. “This is going to hurt a bit,” he said. “Try to pull away,” he commanded, squeezing hard enough to bruise.” Diana struggled and almost broke his hold. Noting tears of pain forming in her eyes, Marcus released her and whispered, “Sorry, Diana.”

“He did that to me?” Diana asked. “Is that believable?”

Nodding, Marcus said, “He and I are similar enough in height and build. Hands are close to the same size as well.” To her obvious surprise, he said, “I shook his hand. Remember?” Diana nodded. “The evidence will track well enough.” Marcus stared at the glass in his hand. “What’s this?”

“Single malt scotch.” Diana smiled and kissed Marcus on the cheek. “I thought we’d have that drink you wanted to buy me.”

He laughed. “The lengths I’m forced to go to to get a beautiful woman to have a drink with me.” Smirking at her, he said, “You’re an especially hard sell, Diana. I’ve never had to take two bullets before.”

“Two?” Diana asked. “Jesus, Marcus. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because the one to the left shoulder’s nothing.”

“Let’s make sure,” she said, helping Marcus out of his suit jacket. “It’s a good thing I brought extra towels. Carefully folding one, Diana placed it on Marcus’ shoulder. He adjusted it slightly. Feeling her eyes on him, he met hers. “Are you seriously playing the tough guy card now?” she asked, smiling slightly, settling in closer to him.

“Whatever it takes, Diana,” he said, but Marcus was unable to suppress a grunt of pain. Taking his cell phone from his jacket pocket, he offered it to her. “It’ll be better coming from you.”

“What?” she asked.

“The call to the Bureau letting them know what happened.”

“What should I say?”

Marcus put his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t over think it, just talk. Generalities not specifics. Keep it simple, stupid. If they suspect anything, they’ll hammer at the details, separate us and try to hang us on the minutia. You were scared, so you can get away with not remembering much. Me, I’ll rely on it all happened so fast.”

“You’ve thought this through,” Diana said.

“I’ve conducted more than a few interrogations in my time, Diana. I know the drill.”

Diana nodded. “What do I do if I get into trouble?” she asked.

“Cry,” he said, “or go all bitchy prosecuting attorney on them.” Marcus shifted slightly to try and get more comfortable. “Anything to keep them off balance.”

Placing her hand lightly on his good thigh, nodding her head at his bad one, Diana asked, “Does it hurt?”

“Like a son of a bitch,” he admitted, head pounding with a startling possibility. “Are you ready to … to … do this?”

“What’s wrong, Marcus?” she asked, his cell phone idle in her hand, watching him closely, carefully assessing he knew not what.

“I … I just thought of something.” He fought the urge to bang his head against the wall. “Something disturbing.” Pulling Diana closer—to avoid being overheard, obviously, he whispered, “Just as I left to come here, I got word my boss wanted to see me.”

“So?” she prompted.

“What if that meeting or whatever was supposed to keep me occupied while Mayles did whatever he pleased? What if the Bureau is compromised top to bottom? How do I fucking work around that?”

“We,” she said.

“No, not we,” he said. “Damn it. I either play my cards closer to the vest than will strictly be safe for any of my agents or paint a big ass target on my chest. This just keeps getting better and better.”

“We don’t have to decide this today,” Diana whispered, handing him his scotch.

“Stop saying we,” he muttered.

“I thought you wanted me to think more in terms of we.”

“I do, but—.”

“Only when it’s convenient for you, Marcus?”

“Diana—?”

“Drink,” Diana said, raising her glass to her lips, smiling when Marcus followed suit.

He gestured to his cell phone in her hand. “Are you ready to call this in?”

She nodded. Planting a light, yet highly intriguing kiss on his lips, Diana said, “Thank you, Marcus.”

Looking away, shrugging and regretting it when his shoulder screamed in pain, he muttered, “Thank John or whatever he’s calling himself these days.”

“John didn’t take two bullets for me.”

Meeting Diana’s eyes, he grinned. “No, he didn’t. Two bullets have got to be worth more than a kiss and a glass of scotch. Right?”

“We’ll see,” she said, taking a breath, readying herself.

“Before anyone gets here, wash these glasses and put them away,” Marcus advised, pointing at her scotch, sipping his.

Diana gave him a breathtaking smile as she lifted his phone to her ear.

Her flustered call to the Bureau was a thing of beauty. Fuck that. Diana’s a thing of beauty--period. Suddenly, Marcus felt exhausted and knew blood loss was only the tip of that iceberg. Months of stress and very little sleep were taking advantage of his current weakened state. He fought a yawn and lost. A voice in his ear said, “Rest, Marcus. They can’t interrogate an unconscious man.”

“Might … miss some … something … fun,” he mumbled.

“Not a chance,” she whispered. “If I don’t date agents, I certainly don’t kiss or otherwise reward comatose ones.”

“Makes sense,” he muttered, eyes drifting closed.

“Keeping you at bay would be a whole lot easier if you weren’t so damn sexy,” Diana whispered, running her fingers through his hair.

Marcus smiled as he lost consciousness.


  • 1
Hee. I keep imagining Beckett and Dominic, which is so wrong, but so right at the same time.

I kinda thought that if they continued with the show, RD's character would have turned out to be working for the bad guys, but would flip sides because of Diana. Or something like that. (I'm actually sick and tired of seeing him being the good-guy-oh-no-he's-really-the-bad-guy role on him. He needs moar than that)

Beckett and Dom--I'll have to give that some thought.

I don't know what they'd have done with Marcus. But I think it would be more interesting to have the three go this way.

John--believed in the system and that justice would prevail. As Eddie, he clearly believes the system won't ever provide justice so he has to do it for himself.

Diana--believes in the system to the end.

Marcus--the man in the middle. Believes in the system but recognizes the flaws in it and is willing to go to certain lengths to correct those flaws that are not strictly law abiding. Just how far he would go would be an interesting thing to explore. I could see him as kind of getting pulled one way by John/Eddie and pulled the other by Diana. And he has to deal with the leak in the FBI somehow.

I so TOTALLY hear you on the good guy morphing into bad guy. I'd like to see Reed in something with some more depth and shading. Something where he can be a bit of everything, morally speaking, white, gray, dark.

One thing interesting about what Joss did was good guy b/c bad guy. Oh, but wait, corporation was really really evil, so the bad guy was really a good guy with some secrets and suspect methodologies.

  • 1
?

Log in

No account? Create an account