Call Me Gray Ch. 04

Gray woke from a heavy, dreamless sleep with seemingly nothing more than the weight of blankets restricting his movement. His vision was blurred, yet he could tell he wore no restraints. He groaned as he sat up, straining sore muscles in his back and shoulders. As he rubbed at his eyes, he found a tender bruise on his forehead. Strangely enough, the spot felt colder than the flesh around it.

His hands dropped to the comforter and he stared at the dark, angular designs of the print gradually coming to recognize that it was the pattern that he and Amanda had purchased for the new bed. In fact, he was in the very model of bed they had chosen from the store showroom. This was their master bedroom with the medium gray carpeting and the new paint job, only now it was furnished.

Gray was baffled, but slowly pulling his faculties together. He threw back the covers and slid his legs over the edge of the bed. Both actions emphasized the discomfort in his muscles. He pushed ever-so-carefully to his feet, a motion that seemed to take forever with his limbs feeling weak and was accompanied with some dizziness. Doubt rose in his ability to pull off an escape, but he pushed aside such cowardly, undermining thoughts.

What the hell did she inject me with?

Bracing himself against the bed, Gray tried to focus and listen to the sounds of the house. There was a hum of conversation somewhere on the ground level, which he barely managed to detect through the low whooshing of his own blood circulating through his head. At that moment, it was impossible for him to determine who was in the house with him. He needed confirmation, but also protection. In his current state, he couldn't trust his fighting skills to be enough to take down multiple assailants. He needed a gun, which he obviously had not carried on his person since starting the assignment. His personal sidearm, a Glock 22 .40 caliber, was stashed in the guest bedroom closet behind the vent cover on the wall. That was his first priority. If he couldn't contain this situation himself, he would have to attempt escape or at least find a way to notify the agency that he needed help. Acquiring clothes and his cell phone were the second priority.

Gray shifted his weight back onto his own feet to test his balance. He felt some improvement, but distrusted that he would make it as far as the bedroom door without tumbling over. He couldn't afford to let a fall tip them off downstairs that he was awake. Perhaps there was even someone on guard outside the bedroom in the hallway.

He decided it would be necessary for him to crawl to the door, and was about to get down on all fours when a loud creak from the distant staircase caught his muddled attention. Having spent a lot of time here in the house, Gray knew that the fifth stair from the top creaked. Possibly Amanda hadn't noted that fact consciously; or someone less familiar with the house was coming up.

It was best to look as non-threatening as possible since he couldn't get into a good position in time for a surprise attack. Gray's eased back onto the bed and pulled his legs up under the blankets, which he then used to recover himself.

Momentarily, the bedroom door opened and Amanda stepped in. She wore trim black jeans with a matching tank top, but no shoes or socks. Gray noted that she was not armed; though she held a small ice bag in her hand, which she pitched onto the bed between Gray's legs. "Here. Fresh ice for your bruise," she said, not looking all that surprised that he was awake.

Gray picked up the bag and placed it gingerly on his forehead. He chose not to thank her for it, instead he countered with an unwavering glare.

Amanda shut the bedroom door and walked over to sit silently in the cushioned rocking chair between the window and the entry to the bathroom. She tucked her bare feet up under her and started to rock. Her posture was stiff and her attention split between him and what she could see through the adjacent window.

"I see our furniture arrived," Gray said a few moments later, pretending to take in the room again, though his attention never really left Amanda.

"Yesterday."

That meant it was now Sunday; and from the amount of light shining in the curtained window beside the rocking chair, Gray figured it was going on ten in the morning. "Mr. Green help with all this?" he asked in a hard tone and making a sweeping gesture at the furniture.

"Yes. He was very helpful," she said.

"Oh, I'm sure he was," Gray commented with a hint of amusement. She would probably realize that he was referring to the syringe. Mr. Green was the obvious culprit and therefore accomplice.

Gray felt deceived and angry. He was one of the better operatives at the agency. How could he have messed up so badly? Of course, the blunder hadn't made much change in his situation- other than releasing them both from the obligations of the marital roleplay. It was turning out to be a very different kind of capture than he'd ever seen. "What are we still doing here?" he asked with curious agitation.

Amanda stopped rocking. She looked at him and her green eyes seemed to darken as her features tightened. Her words were biting. "Would you prefer a torture chamber and the confines of a hard, metal chair? Perhaps some restraints pulled tight enough to cut your flesh? I could start breaking your bones if you wish."

The contrast between her capture and his was too profound to dismiss. Despite his anger and wounded pride, Gray could sense her hesitation even with her harsh expression.

Gray had queries, suspicions and overall reservations about what was happening. He didn't know if he trusted her. Yet, he didn't completely distrust her either, which actually made complete sense in the intricacies of the spy world. Even the enemy sometimes told the truth just as a friend could lie to your face.

"I don't know who you are or what you want from me. Whatever your grievances with my firm, you must realize I will not betray my employers."

She shifted in the chair, placing her feet flat on the carpeting and leaned forward to plant her elbows on her knees. She rested her face in her hands and sat unmoving for several moments. It was a prime moment for Gray to make a move, whether to escape or to subdue her, but he calculated the distance, speed and strength required to be more than he could manage in his condition.

Finally Amanda took in a deep breath and sat upright again. Her tone was bitter when she spoke. "You knew me very well once; you just don't remember."

There was a flutter of thought and a pang of indecision that made his automatic, indifferent response die on Gray's lips. He lowered the ice bag, trying to read more into her features than what she was outwardly showing. The urge to touch the scar above his temple arose, but was squelched; and he remained silent

"Amanda?" Green's familiar voice called from somewhere downstairs.

This afforded Gray a distraction from the uneasiness caused by her last statement. "How long has Mr. Green been your man?" he asked coolly. It was another sore spot for Gray that he'd not discovered earlier that the agent he was mentoring had turned traitor.

"Aaron, he's awake!" Amanda yelled toward the door. She then switched to a much lower, yet still hardened tone to tell Gray, "He has been your man from the very beginning."

He knew they weren't talking about any sort of romantic relationship. In a world of hard-earned loyalties and constant distrust, an operative needed to figure out who'd support them when no one else would. In the six months since his hiring at the firm, Mr. Green had not proven to Gray that he was 'his man'. The recent discovery of Green's betrayal implied to Gray that his instincts about the man had been correct.

Mr. Green's urgent strides carried him up the stairs and down the hall to the master bedroom in no time. He came in, aiming his standard Glock 9mm and looking for trouble. As soon as he interpreted the scene as under control, he lowered the gun.

"Everything ok?" he asked Amanda, shifting his attention between her and Gray, who was still mostly tucked under the covers.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted to Green, showing a bit of softness in her tight features.

"Just tell him," Mr. Green said. His tone was hopeful and encouraging. "He'll start putting the pieces together on his own."

Gray jumped in, sounding more agitated than he really felt. "Someone had better start talking. My patience is going to wear thin soon; and if you really think the two of you can keep me prisoner with no restraints and a single 9mm, it just isn't going to happen."

Amanda scoffed, seeming to poke fun at his bravado. She likely knew the full effects of the drug and doubted his physical abilities as well.

Mr. Green chuckled briefly, shaking his head. "See. I told you he hadn't changed that much," he said, directing his comment to Amanda.

"No, believe me," she said, "he's changed quite a bit, at least in some ways."

"Hey," Gray called out, capturing their attention with his demanding tone. "What is going on?"

"Well... to put it simply," Green said with a grandiose, overly-pleased tone, "we're rescuing you."

Amanda groaned lightly. "Don't put it that way."

Her soft chastisement irritated her accomplice. Green came back with a sulky, "Why not? Aren't we? That was the original plan, you know."

Gray stared at them, watching their expressions and body language as they interacted. There was familiarity there beyond the relationship of colleagues.

Amanda saw him staring. Her expression grew taut again as she shook her head with either uncertainty or possible guilt. "Gray," she began slowly, pausing before tacking on the question, "how did you get that scar on the side of your head?"

Of all the possible questions they could be asking him, that one momentarily stumped him. It wasn't that he didn't have a response. He wondered what the significance of the scar was to her. He considered if he should answer truthfully, if at all? He decided to take the chance. "I got shot- a deep graze," he admitted. He kept his tone cold and rather flat. "It was a long time ago."

"Is that what caused you to lose your memory?" she continued to question. In her green eyes there was a knowing spark that seemed to indicate that Amanda knew how he would respond.

Gray started to nod, but stopped himself and froze up, casting his gaze downward to the bedspread. He didn't want to be talking about this. He didn't want to ponder how she knew that about him. Most of the time, he managed to overlook that he was living off roughly three years of experiences and precious few flashes from his childhood. Being reminded of his memory loss didn't help him feel more secure about the current situation.

The words that suddenly flooded out of his mouth were laced with anger despite being mostly controlled. "I don't need rescuing! I don't care who you people are, but I'm perfectly happy with my life as it is now." He looked up to see their reactions and was surprised to see that Green was more stunned by this outburst than Amanda, who hardly flinched at all.

"Really?" she asked, sounding sarcastic. "Are you truly happy, Gray, not knowing who you are?"

"I won't listen to your lies," he shot back and threw aside the covers. Green gripped his Glock, but didn't aim it since Gray fell back against the bed as soon as he tried to get his footing. Apparently fast movements were out of the question.

Amanda stared at Gray for awhile before she stood and reached out to touch Green on the shoulder in passing. "I guess we should go," she uttered. "If these past months haven't triggered any memories, we're simply out of luck."

"But... Amanda..." Green stammered, glancing between her and Gray with a look of wide-eyed disbelief. "You haven't even mentioned..."

"Aaron!" she jumped in, silencing him with her agitation. "Not now. Let's go. Just give him the damn files." She pushed past him and strode out of the room with such fervor that her dark ponytail swayed behind her.

His curiosity still peaked, Gray listened to her descend to the ground level, his eyes never leaving Mr. Green and the gun. "Do you always let her order you around?" he asked, jesting with his tone and expression. He wasn't sure why he suddenly wanted to talk with Green other than the opportunity to gain information could be lost.

"It's just in her nature." "Who is she to you? You're more than coworkers."

He fidgeted a bit, crossing his arms and letting the barrel of the gun rest against his left bicep. "She's my half-sister. So, I guess you can say that we take care of each other." It was only then that Gray began to recognize the similar features between Mr. Green and Amanda. They had the same shape of nose and mouth.

"Is Aaron you're real name then?"

"Yep."

"And you're not afraid of me tracking you both down?"

"You haven't any reason to. Amanda's letting you go with practically no fight."

"Since you've gone to such efforts to infiltrate the firm, steal files and have her captured, why would she walk away?"

Aaron fidgeted again, looking toward the doorway as if seeking out an indication of her current location in the house. "She wants you back, but only if you're willing to come. That's why we didn't cart you off home to do this all back there."

Gray listened to the young man's words and observed his relaxed posture. Any other day he'd have downed Green by now and thoroughly taken pleasure in it. His inability to fulfill his wish did little to sway his emotions away from aggravation.

"Where are the files? She said you had them."

"I've got them downstairs. I'll leave the flash drive where you can find it."

Green had access to several sensitive systems back at the agency. Who knew what else he had tampered with or taken during his six-month employment? "Did you manage to break the encryption?" Gray asked tentatively, shifting his legs closer for stability as he sat on the edge of the bed. He was still considering taking a chance at rushing the younger man in hopes of knocking him down.

Aaron was keen enough to recognize the signs of danger. He uncrossed his arms, pointing the Glock at Gray. With a determined expression, he answered, "We only wanted your file; and even after I got into it, I couldn't find anything helpful. There's nothing in that file beyond the last three years. Your head wound isn't even mentioned in there. Doesn't that seem strange to you?"

With the gun directly on him, Gray wasn't moving just yet. He let himself indulge in the conversation a bit longer. Green's point was thought-provoking. Had Gray even thought to ask to look in his own file? He knew a file existed because all agents had one and Black made mention of his file on occasion. Gray had made some rather critical notations in Mr. Green's file since taking over as his mentor.

"I assume from your expression that you haven't seen your file. It's pathetically bare, aside from the abundant praise for your contributions to the agency."

Did Gray detect a note of a wounded pride? Perhaps his wasn't the only file Green had been reading. Gray also wondered where they'd found out about his memory loss if it wasn't in his file.

"Black and Gold will have me track you down if they feel their identities have been exposed or their loved ones are at risk. You might do best to shoot me right now, Aaron." It was honest advice because that was very likely to be the situation once Gray made his report. They weren't going to believe that Green hacked the system, stole classified information and only read the one file. Gray assuredly didn't.

Green flinched, but held his tongue. The gun was still pointed at him, but Gray was starting to realize that the young man wouldn't shoot unless pressed. There was Amanda to consider. She appeared to want him alive. Therefore, Aaron's hands were figuratively tied.

Taking a chance, Gray stood on shaky legs and took a few unsteady steps away from the bed. It took a lot of control to keep standing, any loss of focus and he'd immediately lose is balance. "Amanda thought this would work, didn't she? You two slip me a few details to put me off my guard, and then my brain starts fabricating memories and feelings that didn't previously exist?" Gray feigned some sympathy for Green, which was difficult.

Green was still and silent, searching Gray's dark brown eyes for some form of understanding. "We aren't lying to you. As you said, we've gone through a lot. My sister was captured and tortured because of you; and yet, she still hopes that you'll remember her."

"No," Gray said, having only partially listened to what Green was saying. "She was captured because of you." He pointed his finger at the younger man, looking stern. "If it's your job to protect her, why didn't you come forward?" It hadn't been Gray's intention to press Green on his moral obligations to Amanda; yet somehow, it was an avenue he was eagerly pursuing. It was so much easier to cast the entire blame on the siblings rather than face the pile of shit he'd accumulated while dealing with this case.

Aaron was on the defensive, but managed to keep his cool. "I promised my sister I would do whatever it took to find out what they did to you in that place. I didn't have the security clearance to see your file. There was no choice but to steal it. If only you'd gone home when you were supposed to then the hand-off would have gone smoothly; and I could have blamed the alarm on a computer error or something. But noooo... you had to stay late. You had to be the company watch dog."

Aaron's ramblings were starting to make some sense to Gray. "She didn't ever have the files did she?" Gray speculated. "And you weren't trying to help me catch her and bumbling miserably at it. You were trying to thwart the chase and let her get away."

Green's strong demeanor continued to crumble under the weight of his emotions. "Since I joined this firm, you've never shown any trust or pride in my abilities, Gray. It was far easier to act a fool and be reprimanded than to blow my cover entirely. That night was the longest of my life, knowing and not knowing what Mr. White was doing to her."

"Still you chose to do nothing," Mr. Gray further reproached. He was actually enjoying the torment he was inflicting, partly because he did have so many criticisms for the young man. Plus he'd always resented being ordered to mentor Green when he just wanted to do his own work and be left alone.

"You might as well stop," Aaron said, using his gun hand to gesture dramatically at Gray. "Amanda knows it was too dangerous for me to attempt a rescue. I did what I could. I played on the faults and assumptions of our colleagues to get her out of that place- to get her with you, which is where she wanted. A few well-timed suggestions and I got the ball rolling on this whole fiasco. Tell me you could have done better, Mr. Super-Spy."

"You make it sound so impressive," Gray said with an air of berating amusement. "The truth is you failed miserably. You should have known me well enough to realize none of this was going to work. You two should have fled while I was unconscious. Actually, not killing me is going to be the worst mistake you've ever made."

"We didn't fail. You do love her." Green's face flushed an angry pink; and his eyes betrayed the hurt he felt. "Could you really kill her if Black asked?"

Here he was, faced with the same question that Dr. Brown was so fond of asking. Steeling himself, Gray threw out exactly what his bosses would have expected to hear if they were present. Perhaps if he hadn't still been so stung by Amanda's betrayal, he would have answered differently. "I do my job to the best of my abilities and within the parameters of my orders. Nothing about how I feel will effect my actions."