Interagency Cooperation

Agent Regina Fell's temples throbbed as she opened her eyes, her lids so heavy she nearly gave up halfway. It was only when her vision stopped swimming that she noticed the ache in her shoulders and the burn in her wrists.

"I don't believe this."

"Good. You're awake." The blurry form of Agent Sasha Campbell stopped pacing to take a step closer.

"What was that, chloroform? Classy."

Sasha's voice was strained. "I'm doing you a favour."

"You call breaking in, knocking me out, and cuffing me to a water pipe in my own home a favour?"

Sasha crouched in front of Regina, her face finally coming into focus. She looked awful. Her long, black hair, usually slicked back into a low bun, was barely contained in a frizzy ponytail. She was paler than usual, which made the bags under her eyes that much darker. "I'm trying to keep you alive. You have to believe me."

But there was a pang in Regina's heart that was far worse than any ache in her body. "After everything we've been through…" Her eyes prickled. She blinked hard. "I thought we had something. I thought you cared about me."

"I did! I do—"

"I should have seen this coming. It's my own fault for trusting you."

"I don't have a choice—!"

"Was any of it real?"

Sasha recoiled. "What?"

"Any of it." A tear slid down Regina's cheek. She took a shaky breath and ignored it. "The past six months. Everything we did. Everything you said. Was any of it real?"

"Regina…" Sasha's hand twitched, and for a fleeting second, Regina thought she might be about to brush away the tear…

Sasha turned away and stood up, snapping Regina's heart in two.

"Listen. We can talk about this afterwards, okay?"

"Didn't realise there was going to be an afterwards."

"I'm trying to keep you alive so there can be an afterwards—!"

"You really think that if we both get out of— whatever this is— alive, that we'll just go back to the way things were?"

"Regina, please, we don't have time for this—"

"Fine. Let's talk business. What does the FBI want that's so protected they couldn't have just asked? Whatever happened to interagency cooperation?"

For a moment, Sasha just stared at her, a hangdog look in her eyes. Then she deflated, pulled up a stool from the kitchen counter and sat down. "There's a flash-drive. They won't tell me what's on it, but apparently the FBI needs it, and they don't think the CIA is just going to hand it over."

"So the FBI wants me to steal for them? From my own bosses?"

"You successfully stole from the FBI, remember? That's how we met—"

"I remember. I also remember you breaking into my house to arrest me." Regina swept her gaze around her living room. "Look how far we've come."

Sasha turned away, but not quickly enough for Regina to miss the quiver in her lower lip.

"You've stolen from a federal agency before," Sasha declared, her voice flat. "You can do it again."

"I don't need a pep-talk, Sasha! Stealing from the CIA isn't stealing from the FBI."

"But you're a spy—"

"Trained by the CIA!"

"If you don’t they'll kill you and have my badge!"

Regina leaned back, water pipe digging into her spine. "So that's what this is about."

Sasha frowned. "What?"

"This isn't about protecting me. It's about saving your own ass."

Sasha leapt to her feet. "This wasn't even my mission! I took it from my boss to protect you!"

"So you could torture me instead?"

"Because I knew Hartford would kill you if you didn't cooperate!"

The air stilled as they stared each other down, then Regina sighed, tearing her gaze away. "Fine."

"'Fine' what?"

"Fine, I'll cooperate."

"Just like that."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because," she said, meeting Sasha's gaze, "the past six months may not have been real to you, but they were to me."

A look of such utter devastation crossed Sasha's face that Regina had to turn away. "I never said—" She paused. "This isn't some sort of trap, is it?"

Regina smiled sadly. "No, Sasha. I'm not you."

*****

At 11.53pm, a door on the third floor of the George Bush Centre of Intelligence clicked open. Regina tucked away the little piece of tape bearing the thumbprint of Special Agent Michael Ashfield, which she had taken from his coffee mug that afternoon whilst he'd been at lunch.

"After you, Agent Campbell."

Sasha sighed, slipping through the door. "I'm 'Agent Campbell' now?"

"We are working," Regina replied, closing the door behind them and switching on her torchlight. "And you did cuff me to a pipe this morning."

"You know, that interaction always played out far sexier in my head." She grinned over her shoulder, caught Regina's glare, and faltered. "Too soon?"

"Too soon."

"Sorry."

Regina slid open a metal cabinet, slipping a gloved hand underneath and in between beige folders stacked in alphabetical order. No flash-drive.

"Regina." She turned around. Sasha had opened the closet door and was on her knees, her torchlight illuminating the suit jackets hanging within. "His safe."

Regina knelt beside her. The standard-issue CIA safe was tucked neatly into the corner of the closet, almost perfectly hidden behind a wall of suits.

"Can you crack it?" Sasha whispered.

Regina met her gaze. "What do you think?"

*****

"See, I knew you could steal from the CIA," Sasha said, five minutes later.

"If you think you're going to flatter me into forgiveness, you're wrong."

"It was worth a shot."

Regina held up the blue flash-drive, inspecting it under the light from Sasha's torch. "You really don't know what's in here?"

"Apparently, it's above my paygrade."

Regina looked up; their eyes locked. Sasha's head turned, and Regina followed her gaze. The computer. They shared a sidelong glance…

They sprang to their feet, Regina sitting in the cushioned chair and plugging the flash-drive into the computer as Sasha hurriedly locked the safe and closed the closet door, then leaned over Regina's shoulder as she typed furiously for a handful of seconds—

"I'm in."

The flash-drive contained a single folder. Regina opened it, and Sasha drew a breath. It was a series of photographs, some in colour, some black-and-white, some from far away and some zoomed in. But there was one thing each photo had in common.

"It's us."

Regina and Sasha at a park, Regina and Sasha at a café, Regina and Sasha in Regina's apartment…

With each scroll, more incriminating photos zigzagged into clarity, and Regina felt the blood drain from her face.

"They know, Sasha. FBI and CIA. They've known for months."

She found the earliest photo. The date on the bottom left read September fifth 2010. Four months ago. Two months after Regina and Sasha had come to their arrangement: to share information if needed, with no need to tell either of their bosses. A strictly professional relationship. At least, at first. Over the next few weeks, a rather unlikely friendship had blossomed from it, another couple of months later, perhaps something more.

"This was a trap." Regina met Sasha's gaze, her own fear reflected back at her. "They knew I'd take this mission from Hartford."

"Because we knew you'd do anything to protect each other, including treason."

Regina and Sasha started. The door had opened, and in stepped Special Agent Ashfield, closely followed by Special Agent Hartford.

"Agent Fell," Special Agent Ashfield continued, his gun pointed squarely at Regina's head, "get out from behind my desk. And put your hands on your head. You're both under arrest."

*****

Five gruelling hours later, Regina was jerked to a halt in front of a grey door at the end of a long, white corridor, the barrel of a gun digging into the base of her neck. A silent exchange between the guard and Special Agent Ashfield, and Regina's hands were uncuffed, the door pushed open, and Regina shoved inside.

Heart pounding, she surveyed the room with quick glances— empty, except for Sasha, who was already hurrying over. White walls, white floor, white ceiling. Regina had only ever heard of places like this, but she'd never believed they were real.

"A torture room." To her right, Sasha tensed. "I thought these only existed in CIA myth."

Special Agent Ashfield smiled from the doorway. "You've always been naïve."

"I prefer optimistic."

"No cameras. No one-way mirror. And a very selective hiring process. In short, no proof if the UN comes a-knocking."

"Are you really so desperate to cover this up?"

"Traitors must be made examples of, Agent Fell."

He bent over, placing something shiny at his feet, before nudging it with the side of his shoe. It slid into the room, coming to a stop at Regina's boot.

A kitchen knife.

Regina stared at it, her breathing turning shallow. Beside her, Sasha swallowed audibly.

"Whoever exits this room alive gets their gun and badge back." He gave a little wave. "Good luck."

The door clicked shut.

For a moment, neither of them moved, then Regina, mind numb, bent over and picked up the knife.

"Regina?" Sasha's eyes were wide and rimmed with tears.

"I think we both know what needs to be done."

Sasha took a small step backwards. "Regina, I'm sorry. I know you're still mad at me. And you have every right to be. I got us into this mess—"

Regina thrust out her arm— Sasha froze.

"Take it."

Sasha ogled at her. "N-no. Regina—"

"Sasha, please." Two hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with her free hand, shaking the handle of the knife in Sasha's direction. "Take it. It's over. We're done for. Just…" She took a steadying breath. "Do me a favour and make it quick."

Sasha backed all the way up against a spotless, white wall. "I'm not going to kill you!"

"If you don't, we'll be stuck in this room till we dehydrate!"

"Then we'll dehydrate together!"

"Dammit, Sasha!" Regina cried, tears flowing freely down her face and dripping onto the sparkling white floor. "Just get it over with! Go get your gun and badge back!"

Sasha's jaw dropped. "That's not— they won't give either of us our gun and badge back, Regina! Ashfield was lying!" She shook her head, taking a few steps forward. "He was right! You are naïve! We're traitors now. We can't be trusted. Whichever one of us walks out of here is getting a bullet to the head!"

Regina swayed on her feet. She'd always tried to believe that the CIA was misunderstood, that they couldn't possibly still be waterboarding suspects in secret and evading the UN…

The glare from the white floor pierced the back of her skull, forcing her eyes shut.

Sasha was right. She was naïve. And neither of them were getting out of this alive.

She opened her eyes, steadying herself against a wall and lowering her knife arm. "Right. Okay." She looked up at Sasha, who was watching her from a safe distance. "What do we do?"

Sasha gave a tiny shrug. "Surrender?"

"They'll just come in here and kill us both."

"At least I won't have to kill you."

But Regina shook her head. "Sasha, look, if we're probably going to die anyway, you should just kill me and try to plead your case—"

"Wh— No!" Sasha threw her hands up in the air. "Why are you so adamant that I kill you?!"

"Because maybe killing me can save you!"

"Then, you kill me! Plead your case—"

"You really think I could kill you?" Regina cried, striding forward until they were nose-to-nose. Sasha's mouth fell open, her eyes taking on their characteristic hangdog look. Then she leaned in, her breath hot on Regina's face, and Regina's gaze flicked downwards to land on Sasha's trembling lip—

"You really think I could kill you?"

Regina ignored the tugging at her heartstrings and willed herself to stay angry. "You've already knocked me out and cuffed me to a pipe—"

"To save your life!" Sasha cried. "I had to make it convincing—!" She froze, wide eyes snapping up to meet Regina's. "That’s it!"

Regina stared at her, anger forgotten. "What is?"

"I've got it."

"Got what?!"

Sasha's eyes gleamed. "I know how we can get out of here." She grabbed Regina's arm, carefully repositioning the knife in her hand so the blade hovered over Sasha's middle. "You have to stab me."

Regina's mouth went dry. "I'm sorry?"

"Stab me. Don't kill me though—"

"Wasn't planning to—"

"—Miss all my vital organs and the like. I'll play dead. You get them to open the door, and when they come to check on me, I'll attack the one closest, and you get the other, capiche?"

Regina's jaw slackened. "I do not capiche. I'm not stabbing you, Sasha."

"It's a good plan—"

"It's— a plan, but I'm not stabbing you!"

"Well, I don't want to stab you!"

"Then I guess we're back to no plan!"

"Regina!"

"Sasha!"

A long moment passed as they stared, in silence, then—

"I already knocked you out and cuffed you to a pipe. It's your turn to wound me—"

"You've got far steadier hands than me. What if I start shaking and nick an artery—!"

"You won't—"

"What if I do—?"

"Regina—"

"I don't want to kill you—!"

"Alright!" Sasha cried. "You win. Your hands are already shaking at ninety miles an hour."

Regina looked down, and true enough, her hands were shaking so violently that the knife had nearly slipped from her grasp. She handed it to Sasha, and despite her taking a shaky breath, her hand remained perfectly still.

"You're sure about this?"

"Not really."

"If you've got any better ideas—" Regina opened her mouth to protest— "If you're about to say kill you and plead my case, I'll…"

"Kill you?"

Sasha's cheeks flushed. "Shut up. Say you capiche"

Despite it all, a smile tugged at Regina's lips. "I capiche. At least this way we'll die fighting."

"Or we'll live."

"If you say so."

Sasha took a tentative step forward and put a hand on Regina's shoulder, then raised the knife, the tip of it hovering over Regina's middle. She looked up, and their eyes locked. "Ready?"

Hardly daring to breathe, Regina nodded, then squeezed her eyes shut—

"Regina?"

She opened one eye. "What?"

"If I successfully don't kill you right now," Sasha's voice was shaking, her gaze glued to the knife "and we make it out of here alive, will you give me one more chance?"

Regina opened her other eye. "That's even crazier than you suggesting stabbing me."

Sasha's face fell, and there was a pain in Regina's heart as though Sasha had sliced it open. Sasha nodded, then took a deep breath. "Fair enough." She sniffed. "I'm really sorry, Regina."

Regina's voice came out as a strangled whisper. "Me too."

"For the record," Sasha said, a tear falling from her lashes and landing on Regina's boot. "The past six months were real for me too."

Something fluttered in Regina's chest—

"Ready?" Sasha tightened her grip on the handle of the knife—

"Sasha, wait."

Sasha's gaze snapped up. "What? What's wrong?"

Regina drew a shaky breath. "You really mean it?"

Sasha lowered the knife and inched closer, her eyes flitting between Regina's. "More than you know. I-" She let out a shaky breath. "I guess now's as good a time as any… to say…"

Regina held her breath. "Say what?"

"I'm in love with you, Regina."

Regina's heart stopped.

"And I know I've been awful this past day, but I swear, I didn't want to betray you yesterday. And I really don't want to stab you now. I'm just trying to keep you alive."

Regina's breath hitched. "I know."

Slowly, carefully, Sasha cupped her cheek, brushing away a tear with her thumb. "Do you trust me?"

Regina gazed up at her, all wide, pleading eyes and quivering lips, and she nodded. "With my life."

Sasha let out a breath, a tiny smile playing at her lips. "Okay." She raised the knife and took a deep breath—

"Waitwaitwaitwaitwait—"

"Dammit, Regina! What now?!"

"I just-" Her breathing turned frantic. She held up a finger, catching her breath. "I just— wanted to say…"

"What—?!"

She surged forward and crashed their lips together. The knife clattered to the ground as Sasha cupped Regina's other cheek, Regina grabbing the lapels of Sasha's jacket to pull her closer. It was a long, frantic moment before they pulled away, faces wet with tears, foreheads pressed together.

"I'm in love with you too," Regina whispered, catching her breath.

"Really? I never would have guessed."

Regina laughed, pressing another kiss to Sasha's lips.

"Does this mean…?"

"Yes, I'll give you another chance. But if I even get a whiff of another betrayal," Regina continued, raising her voice over Sasha's breathless laughter, "I’m leaking your location to Hartford and disappearing without a trace. Do you capiche?"

"Yeah. Yes. Regina, thank you—"

"Say it."

"I capiche."

Regina smiled. "Good. You can stab me now."

*****

"You know," Regina began, two months later as they sipped hot chocolate from the same side of a booth in a little café, a vase of tulips on the table before them, "if you'd told me this time last year that you stabbing me would land us living a quiet life in the Netherlands, I'd probably have shot you."

Sasha smirked. "Darling, if I'd known the only thing standing between us and a happy ending was me stabbing you, I'd have done it the day we met."

Regina laughed, hot chocolate forgotten as she shuffled closer. "You know what they say, don't let them kiss you unless they at least offer to stab you first."

"Is that what they say?" Sasha whispered, leaning in. "Does that mean I'll need to offer another stab every time I want to kiss you, or…?"

Regina rolled her eyes and pressed their lips together.