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Eric told himself that this was ridiculous and stupid, not to mention foolhardy. It was also completely unnecessary -- but he'd already signed himself up to do this and backing out now would require more explanations than just going through with it would. It wasn't like supervising a flight for one of the Outcome agents was anything unusual; he supervised different aspects of the entire project, popping in on researchers, support, as well as the agents now and then to see how everything was coming along.
He'd watched Outcome 5 no more closely than any other -- except for the weeks following that massive fuck-up six months ago, when he'd reamed the liaison for lousy intel and spent sleepless nights covering their tracks and making sure their PR team spun it every which way to Sunday to make sure that the score of dead civilians was under-reported and blamed on local militia. Making sure one of their best Outcome agents kept his focus was all part of the job and one he didn't actually care for.
Someday they'd get rid of all the unnecessary crap and they wouldn't have to hand-hold their soldiers. They could just point and fire and all the world's messes would just get cleaned up the way they needed to be.
He'd put it all behind him, kept an eye on Outcome 5's status reports and mission debriefs and everything was going smooth as could be expected. There was no reason to think Eric needed to show up personally to supervise anything about the agent's work, no reason at all to even think about him when Eric legitimately had thousands of other things vying for his attention.
He'd seen the flight re-certification roster and had signed it off, knowing it was probably pointless. Normal pilots had to keep their hand in to keep sharp, had to practice in order to not lose track of all the details. Normal flight hour requirements simply didn't apply to Outcome agents, and as much as they could forge the necessary certification, there was always the slightest chance. Checks and balances, failsafes were all part of the Outcome program. As good as it was, no matter how much they'd refined things sine Treadstone, it wasn't perfected yet. Re-certification gave them a chance to look for any degradation and, at least this time, it gave Eric a chance to indulge himself in something he so rarely let himself have.
It wasn't exactly time off -- a man in his position couldn't afford a vacation without the whole fucking world falling apart. He made do with hours stolen here and there -- like now, scheduling himself to sit in the co-pilot's seat of a prop engine plane watching someone else do the flying.
Eric didn't even have a license himself, had almost no clue how to fly anything. He could hold a joystick and had a basic idea of how to bring a plane down without killing himself, but nothing more than that. But it meant getting out of Washington for a couple of days and if it wasn't exactly a vacation, it was the closest he was going to get until he retired.
Anything else he was thinking about was just daydreaming, something he rarely allowed himself to indulge in, but once he got into the plane and strapped in, and Outcome 5 was taxiing them down the runway, he let himself glance over.
There was nothing more than wishful thinking to be had, but Eric closed his eyes for just a second, felt the pull of gravity as the plane picked up speed. The frame shook and the roar of the propeller made it easy to avoid talking and Eric leaned his head back and just took a deep breath.
He'd even left his phone in his car, something he might regret later because he didn't really trust any of his subordinates to make exactly the right call every single time. But they'd be gone only a hour or two, and surely Eric could give himself this damn much. He worked hard to clean up everyone else's mess, sacrificed his life and well-being to make sure the actions of a few power-mad psychos and the idiots who were in the wrong place at the wrong time didn't destroy the world.
He thought about how much he'd wanted to save the world, back when he'd been in college. First year law student, losing sleep and sacrificing his social life to learn all he could. He'd devoted himself to the law and he'd believed, in his youthful naivete, that if he just argued hard enough he could save anyone who needed saving.
It hadn't taken long for him to discover just how the real world was run, but luckily he'd managed to put himself into the right places at the right times, and he'd worked his way up into the position he found himself now. He had all the power and influence he needed to make sure that those who needed saving were saved.
He still had to deal with the politicians who cared only for their own careers, and the journalists who didn't care who they hurt as long as they sold a good story. No matter how much he did there were always meetings, and reports, and budgets to argue over and -- Eric rubbed at his forehead and opened his eyes. They'd been in the air for several minutes now and Outcome 5 hadn't said a word.
Glancing over, Eric saw the other man staring out ahead, no expression at all on his face. Eric wanted to ask what he was thinking, surprised at himself for the interest. There was a flicker of an eye and Eric knew the agent was aware of his staring, but it took several moments before he turned his head towards Eric, though he still said nothing.
"Sorry," Eric said, forcing himself to look forward, out at the sky. "It's been a long week." He tilted his head upwards a little and all he could see was blue sky and white clouds. He had a flash of memory: his grandparents' farm, running through the fields as a boy, lying on the small crest behind the barn and watching the clouds. He could smell the manure and dirt and hear the pigs in their enclosure, could almost hear his grandma calling his name from the back porch.
They'd died when he was eight, and the bank had taken the land, claiming they'd defaulted on their loans. Eric's parents had tried to fight it, but the bank had had lawyers and Eric's parents were poor children from a small town, a few years of community college didn't prepare one to argue in court that the bank was lying and the board of directors were thieves.
Eric kept staring at the clouds and he felt the plane begin a gentle climb. He glanced over and Outcome 5 was simply looking ahead, glancing down occasionally at the controls. Soon the ground below was a maze of color, squares and triangles drawn by roads and broken in half by creeks and tree lines. Eric looked upwards again at the clouds and soon enough lost himself within them.
"I could do a barrel roll," Outcome 5 said, long moments later. Eric shook himself out of his reverie, realizing suddenly just how long they'd been flying in silence.
"I don't think that's required for your re-certification," Eric managed. He wasn't exactly sure if the agent was joking or not -- nor did he know if his stomach was ready to handle such a thing.
There was a flash of a grin. "I don't think being re-certified by someone without a license really counts as official." He gave Eric a side-long look, the grin still playing at his mouth.
Eric coughed. "Technically you only need to log the hours," he began, then realized his mistake.
The agent grinned at him then, widely. "Then you're here to make sure I sign the paperwork properly, sir?"
Eric just laughed once, and shook his head. He didn't bother to reply; there was nothing he needed to say to explain why he was here, not when he couldn't really explain it himself. There was too much to lose by simply leaving the office for, what, a joyride? But he'd seen the roster and he'd picked it up, seen the scheduled flight and the small, nondescript airport the project would be using. He'd written his name down as flight supervisor without allowing himself to think it through.
The agent's voice was softly apologetic when he said, "I'm going to have to head back in another half-hour, sir; we didn't fuel up for a long flight."
"Understood, Agent." Eric leaned his head back and looked out the window, keeping his focus on the clouds filling the sky. For the next hour he sat, watching even as he first felt the plane begin to descend. He kept his eyes locked up the clouds, looking upwards as the plane banked and they came around, only letting his gaze come down when the wheels hit the ground and his entire body was jerked forward.
He glanced over, confused by what seemed like an unexpectedly rough landing.
Outcome 5 shrugged. "Sorry about that, sir. Landing one of these is always a bit tricky." There was a pause, and with a blank expression, he added, "I usually need a couple of goes to get it right."
Surprise kept him from answering right away. It surprised him further to realize that it was on the tip of his tongue to say 'yes'. To indulge himself again, to go up into the sky and leave everything behind. But guilt was clawing at him and he knew he couldn't afford the luxury. There was work to be done, and every minute he stayed away increased the chances that something would be screaming for his attention.
With a sigh, he shook his head. "It'll be fine. I need to get back."
With a faint, "Yes, sir," the agent brought the plane back to the hanger. The maintenance man on the project's payroll was standing just inside the open doorway, waiting for them. Eric knew the man had no idea who they were or what they were doing; this far down the ladder he would only know they were government men who'd needed a plane for a couple of hours. Chances were he wouldn't even know who owned the planes he took care of, with the number of dummy accounts and fictitious names between the planes and the Outcome Project.
Eric looked over as he began to undo his harness. "That's just fine," he said, and he felt himself mentally stumble. Outcome 5 was busy switching controls and making notations in a logbook; he acknowledged Eric with merely a nod.
Eric swallowed, and could already feel himself itching to get his phone, find out what messages had been left. He'd made a reservation for a small motel in town, but he knew he'd be canceling it, finding a flight instead back to Washington.
He looked up into the sky, saw the deep blue broken by high white clouds. For a moment he thought about learning how to fly, something small and simple like the one they'd just gone up in. But there was no point; he wouldn't have time to fly it even if he learned.
When he looked down he saw Outcome 5 watching him. Eric just nodded. "Thank you, Fi-- Aaron."
There was a moment when the other man didn't react, then slowly he returned the nod. There was something in his eyes as he said, "You're welcome."
Then Eric made himself climb out of the seat, down the few steps to the tarmac and headed directly for his car, ignoring both Outcome 5 and the man at the hanger. He unlocked his door and sat down, pulling open his briefcase and digging out his phone.
He startled when he heard footsteps hurrying towards him, and he tensed as he looked up to see Outcome 5 coming towards him.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir," the agent said. "But you know this was just the single engine flight. I have to re-certify on the multi-engine prop plane as well."
Eric's thumb was on his phone's power button, mouth open to point out that they both knew he wasn't actually re-certifying the agent on anything. Outcome 5's expression was guileless -- but Eric had seen tapes of all their Outcome agents at work, had seen how charming and persuasive they could be. Undercover work, Eric knew, and he honestly had no idea if he was being played.
Except he was being invited to go up again, for no other reason than Eric had enjoyed it.
He slowly put down the phone, and Outcome 5 -- Aaron -- smiled at him.