Check-In

July 16, 2018:

Michael checks in on Rami, and meets Simon.

Rami's Apartment

It's an apartment.

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

Most people cannot leave their work at work, but spies have it the worst. Sometimes home is the only secure place to do work, and that's what Parambir is up to. With the help from Foster back at SHIELD, she has an important key to an increasingly complex puzzle. Now, to see if it actually unlocks anything…

The hour is late — past midnight by the luminous clock on the oven. The door between her cover life as communications consultant Parambir Ghai and her spy life as Courtier is opened, leaving a clear pathway between her apartment's hallway and Bastion. She sits at the keyboard in sweats and a Swiss FIT t-shirt, typing away in one of her self-made programs, strings of code being linked together as she builds her needed algorithm.

*

Simon has no belongings in Rami's place. Hell, they're technically on their fifth date (or fourth if you don't consider pointing guns in a SHIELD armor a date). Still, he appears quite comfortable in her apartment, coming in from the kitchen with a tray of tea and cookies — sorry, biscuits. At least he's wearing his jeans and a Mets t-shirt, not anything truly embarrassing (unless you're a Yankees fan). "Your roommate have anything interesting to say, Rami?"

*

There's a soft buzz from Rami's phone and a tap-tap-tap on the door at the same time. The text is just an elipsis and the number is unknown. This time, Michael Carter isn't slinking through windows. He's going up to the door. Occasionally, entering places like a human is the least suspicious thing of all. He's looking a bit rough, but that's pretty par-for-the-course these days.

*

"Not yet… I haven't asked the right question." Rami starts to smile up toward Simon only to be interrupted by the synchronized signal. She looks beyond him after she spots the dot-dot-dot flashing on her notifications. She pushes back from the computer, getting quickly to her feet. "Shit." The word is said quietly under her breath. She steps forward to touch Simon's elbow. "Michael's here," she says in a whisper. She hesitates, glances around, and then points at the floor. "Stay here."

Argument from Simon or not, Rami turns to leave Simon inside Bastion, stepping quickly through the front room to the door. She undoes the locks, looking up immediately at Michael once the door is opened. Her expression becomes worried at the sight of him, but she doesn't fret over him. Instead, she nods him on inside, not speaking until the door shuts. "You're looking lovely as always," she says dryly.

*

The trio of taps on the door draws Simon's head up and turns him half around — Rami's reaction turns him right back toward her, ginger brows rising up his forehead. The whisper draws his curiosity and professional paranoia up a notch higher, and he glances once toward the living room, where his jacket holds his off-duty sidearm in an integrated holster, then just steps back into Bastion, mind churning. So there's a rogue spy coming to Rami's apartment — then again, Rami's a rogue spy herself if you ask some people. A faint frown settles into the corners of his lips, and he sets down the tray next to her computer, one hand lingering near the handle of the teapot as he waits for Rami to greet her unexpected guest.

*

"Sorry, I do hate to keep dropping in on you like this. But I imagined a debrief would be a rather good idea," Michael moves in quickly. His hand motion is subtle, but his fingers are never far from the sidearm under his light jacket. "I…" he spots the jacket in the living room. Faster than a blink, his weapon is in his hand and he's scanning the apartment for signs of movement.

*

While Michael makes his quick greetings, Rami secures the door once more. When he spots the jacket, she's already got her hands up in a placating gesture. "It's alright, Michael." Her words are calming — a common tone when a mission is about to go tits up. "His name is Simon… he's a field agent with SHIELD. I've brought him in." Mostly. "He's been helping me look over the files Warhorse wanted." Then she turns her head slightly toward the opened door of Bastion. "If you both would just settle down…" She directs this toward Simon, knowing he can hear her. "Bring out the tea, Si. And no guns." She says this to Michael.

*

Simon leans forward slightly, listening intently to the muted conversation out in the hallway. When Michael's words cut off, Simon reaches out for the handle of the teapot, grasping it and tensing, prepared to fling it side-arm. Rami does her placating thing, however, and he sets the teapot down on the tray again, "Coming right out." The words are low, ostensibly calm, for all that his system is flushed with adrenaline. He steps out of the handler's room with the tea-tray in both hands, making it clear that he's not holding a weapon — besides a full teapot and a pair of solid metal teacups (and a packet of chocolate-coated biscuits). His eyes flicker to the door, making sure it's shut, and then back to the other field agent, "Looks like I'll have to get another cup. A pleasure to meet you, Michael, I'm Green, Simon Green."

*

Michael keeps his weapon up probably a breath longer than would be considered polite. Only when he confirms that Simon is holding tea and not a semiautomatic does he lower his gun arm. He doesn't stow it immediately, but with the way his life has been going lately, it's hard to blame him. "Forgive me. There was a time that the words 'SHIELD agent' would cause me to relax, but I've had a couple of pedigreed agents try to kill me lately." His body language is notable. He's still subtly between Simon and Rami, though not in an obvious guard dog way.

*

"There will be no killing of anyone in this apartment tonight." Rami almost breathes the words, but there is a notable tension there. She touches Michael's forearm very lightly and then nods to the couch. She does not make an effort to convince Michael or Simon that the other male is safe and can be trusted. She just pushes onward, demonstrating her trust. "A third cup would be good." Then she pivots slightly to Michael. "Warhorse isn't talking. He insists on speaking to 'a Carter,' and I get a sense you are part of that select bunch. I did make some progress on the files that he had me fetch for him."

*

There, the gun's down, how much nicer is that? Simon still doesn't offer a hand, at least not right away. Instead he shifts the tray into his right hand and leans his left shoulder against the wall of the hallway. It's a pose that looks casual and at-ease, except for the fact that his legs are still coiled under him, "I'd let you know I was on the team that helped bring in Warhorse, but if you're paranoid enough," that doesn't sound like an insult, coming from Simon, "that wouldn't mean anything." Instead, he nods to Rami as she pivots back to face the Carter in the room, and steps past the pair and moves into the kitchen. There's nothing particularly exceptional about the movement itself, except that it shows Michael his back for a good full second. "I'll go get one. Don't worry, my sidearm's in my jacket, and I haven't figured out if Rami keeps one in the kitchen yet."

*

"If she's remembered her training, she most certainly does," says Michael. He watches Simon's movement, then very slowly puts his weapon away. He's fast enough to draw it again in a heartbeat, but at least it's not in an imminent firing position. He eyes the kitchen, "If it were me, it would be holstered beneath the counter in the corner near the kettle. Just under the lip."

Then he looks back to Rami. "I am more or less assuming my connection to the Carter family is known in the intelligence community by now. And Warhorse certainly knows my history. What's in the files?"

And then, a bit more quietly, he murmurs, "Your parents set you up with this one? Doesn't quite seem their type."

*

"You're telling all my secrets, Michael." The chiding is gentle as she settles down onto the couch, crisscrossing her fingers together while her weight leans gently into her elbows on her knees. She looks up at the Carter, letting Simon move freely without her concern into her kitchen for a third cup. The first question from Michael is stalled by the second, her brows arching before a soft scowl distorts her otherwise serene expression. "No. Not entirely. Yashminder did, but he didn't know Simon was SHIELD. I didn't know Simon was SHIELD until the night of the sting. And you know he isn't their type, but they were starting to ask after 'that nice Michael chap I've mentioned before,' so I think they are widening their net of possibilities." Then she shakes her head, and returns to the second question, no longer whispering.

"The facility in Ablution is most certainly a pre-Rebirth site… alpha-testing for certain. With some help at the SHIELD HQ, I'm confident that there's part of the facility that doesn't show up on the blueprints." Rami's lips thin. "I met another program participant… James Buchanan. The Winter Soldier."

*

"The first place to check for a British or Indian operative," Simon agrees with Michael's suggestion. "Or behind the cookies." He's an unrepentant — nay, a proud American, "Saves me from having to go digging in the sugar or flour containers yet." He opens the cupboard and pulls down a third cup, adding it to the tray, buying the other two a few moments to discuss him privately-ish, a few moments for Rami to reassure Michael. And then he comes around the corner again, tray first, held in both hands again. He might as well add his own reassurances, after all. "He's shorter than I expected." A hint of a grin touches Simon's lips, as well it might, considering that Bucky isn't what most people would consider short. He looks Michael over from foot to crown, grinning broadly, then sets the tray down on the coffee table, sitting down cross-legged opposite the couch. It's not a quick-moving position, and it's well out of arm's reach of his jacket, so he's still working on the soothing.

*

"I'm familiar with Barnes. We crossed paths in his…ah…Russian days. And again recently in Wakanda. I do sometimes wonder how many of us they created in pursuit of that serum." Michael watches Simon's movements, reading the other man as best he can. He is, however, Peggy Carter's brother. She would never have tolerated an overbearing big brother - not and retain such affection for him. So his protectiveness manifests in more subtle ways, and comes across more as general wariness than a guard dog. He keeps an eye on Simon, but his question is directed more to Rami, "Why do you think Warhorse wants to speak to a Carter?"

*

The grinning comment from Simon has Rami looking at him in exasperation. "A good spy is neither too tall nor too short." Then she looks back toward Ichael at his question. "Because it's a power move." Rami pours out the tea now that there's three cups. She offers Michael his, Simon his, and claims one for her own. "If we give him a Carter to talk to, it means we've given him some control of his situation… it might not be a bad move, actually. Right now, he's staying silent… like any of us would if we were in the same predicament. I shouldn't talk to him. I'll kill him."

*

Simon frowns in confusion, "Wakanda?" How cute, the SHIELD Agent has no idea that it's a hidden technological superpower. Shaking it off, he listens to the pair speak. There's actually a lot of 'horse-taming' to his body language, the intentional attempt to project calm to put the other part at east. "No, you probably shouldn't kill the source of information on whatever organization is working beneath MI6.5 and SHIELD, Rami." A hint of a chuckle underlies the words. He glances to Rami a moment, his lips pursing, and then he makes a hard call indeed for an intelligent officer, "Why don't I take another look at that data, Rami, so you two can catch up?" 'And you can talk freely and report what you choose to along to SHIELD' is the unspoken addition. Rising to his feet, he steps over to Rami's side, touching her upper arm momentarily, then collects a biscuit and his teacup and heads back toward her usually-locked room.

*

"Right," says Michael with a rough chuckle. "And if it happened to be me, who has something personal wrapped up in this business, it has the added bonus of finding my location. Where's he being held?" The unspoken addition to that is, 'and can you trust who's holding him?'

He watches Simon retreat, then looks back at Rami. In spite of everything, there's a little smile, "Another spy? Seriously, Courtier. You should know better. It's positively incestuous."

*

"The Triskelion, of course." The unspoken addition is not addressed until Simon is out of the room, the dark-eyed spy watching him go. She only speaks again once the door is shut. Now she sets down her tea cup, turning to regard Michael more seriously. "No, love… dating you would be positively incestuous." She smiles lightly then, tilting her head to one side. "I give you my permission to do a full run-through on him, but… I think we can trust him with this." Which is as close as she can get to saying 'I trust him.' She doesn't. Not fully, not yet. If the secrets Simon hold are big enough, she would cut ties. "As for Warhorse… your sister has him secured. I think that, for now, he's out of the way… but that just means that whoever Warhorse was working for might have gone deeper underground. We need to know what he knows… eventually."

*

"Darling, I avoid that whole business by not dating at all," drawls Michael. "I've tried it once or twice over the years, and it's never gone anywhere good." He eyes the door to the secret room with a slightly clenched jaw. "Thinking we can trust anyone isn't a particularly strong statement right now. People I was fairly confident I could trust shot at me."

Only after Simon has left the room does he reach for tea. "Do you have any more information about what this has to do with me, personally?"

*

"That's alright, love… if Simon doesn't work out, I'll marry you out of necessity." Rami's smile remains light, though there's a gentle shine of amusement in her brown eyes before she follows Michael's glance to the door. "I know… but we have to take a risk if we're going to get anywhere." Then she looks back to Michael. "If he ends up being a liability, I will take him out. Agreed?"

Then she breathes out a slow breath. "I think Warhorse is the connection to Switzerland… I don't have proof. Call it a gut feeling."

*

"Good lord. May you never be that desperate," says Michael in that dry manner of his. And then, as far taking out love interests? "Don't be silly. You're a terrible shot. You'd only wound the poor man." He sips the tea and then looks towards the door again. You have to have a dark sense of humour in this job. "You think Warhorse set me up. Which is a fair assessment. But the question of why remains."

*

Rami smirks toward Michael as she takes a sip of tea, speaking at the rim. "I'll just make sure it's point blank range." Then she sips slightly before she looks back to Michael, expression more serious. "If only we knew someone he wanted to talk to," the woman says dryly, and a bit pointedly. Then she takes another drink of tea.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License