Work Text:
Dita Mandy’s first job with the government was that of an analyst.
In her years since first joining the Central Intelligence Agency then moving on to the National Research Assay Group, her job title has changed and her duties have grown, but at the core, she is still an analyst.
She watches, listens and collects data for collation, research and review. She compiles information and statistics, fact checks and summarizes her findings in detailed reports. She has long ago learned just what to put in and what to leave out of documents that would later be scrutinized and could be used against her.
Some details she leaves out of official record because it has no place in being there, other items are left out because she may have use for them later.
She’s not certain which of those is the reason why she’s never documented her observations regarding Byer and his Outcome subject. She knows that the subject is actually a man and that the man has a name – several, in fact – but she also knows that that identity is none of her concern because at her level of the program, they are just Operatives and Subjects; numbers One through Thirteen excluding the Betas.
Eric Byer, though, knows the name – all the names - of Number Five.
They’re walking from the conference room after the afternoon roundtable on the way to Eric’s office as the man prepares to leave for an extended “holiday” weekend. As they walk, Dita is running down the list of details not fully addressed in the briefing as those details pertain to Project Outcome and such things are not discussed around conference tables.
“The first round has been heralded as a success,” she scrolls through the data feed on her PDA. “Number Two succumbed to renal failure – there’s a joke there that I won’t make,” Eric looks at her sideways and they share the quick, easy grin of two people who’ve worked together for years now, “but the others have recovered beautifully and have returned to assignment. Foite’s been given the go ahead to proceed to the second group and the doses were administered without-”
They arrive at Eric’s office and Dita carries on into the room without pause until the door practically slams shut behind her.
“I did not authorize that.”
A muscle tics in his cheek and Dita blinks at that reaction from the man; she’s always surprised to see any reaction from the Iceman, as Byer has been referred to since his piloting days in the Air Force and before Val Kilmer claimed fame with the moniker in Top Gun.
“We have a very specific schedule and those doses were not to be administered until tonight,” his eyes flash before he turns to pace away to his desk.
“Morning or night makes little difference to our schedule so long as the subjects viral successfully off the green pills. The sooner we have their physiology enhanced the sooner we can devote focus to perfecting the psychological alterations,” she puts her PDA away and carefully takes a seat to observe as Eric opens his briefcase and begins to rearrange the contents with an air of aggression that she is unused to from him.
“When did Cross receive his dose?”
He flips open a cell phone from his case then closes it when he apparently doesn’t see what he’d been looking for. The phone is a basic prepaid model; a burner. The technology is worlds removed from the company issued Blackberry that Eric is never without and nothing like the IPhone that the man has for his personal use.
Dita makes note of these things and does not voice her curiosity as to why he has a third phone of that disposable nature.
She shifts to bring her Smartphone back out to retrieve the information sent to her by Dr. Donald Foite.
“Which one is Cross?” she asks, though she’s sure she already knows.
“Five. Subject Number Five,” Eric grits the words out.
She stares at him until he seems to realize what he’s revealing with his actions then he draws a deeply measured breath and sits calmly down behind his desk.
“Go through the list; times and locations for the administration on all operatives.”
“Four received her dose in Seoul at 5:15 am, Seven received his at 6 am in Damascus, Six was dosed in Kabul at 6:45 and Five did not check in as scheduled so his dosage was administered at 12:25 pm when his handler located him in San Diego. All Eastern Standard times,” she reports before looking up from her mobile. “He’s gotten in the habit of missing checks, Number Five. His file was flagged last week for a missed check-up with Dr. Shearing, he bypassed his assigned debriefing checkpoint on the Ireland assignment and this is the fourth time this handler has had to track him down for a check in. That rather defeats the point of having them check in.”
Eric rocks back in his chair at her reprimanding tone as if she’s lecturing him on his own behavior.
“Perhaps we should reconsider his -”
“He gets the desired results in the field and that is all that matters,” he cuts her off before she can suggest eliminating the agent that has ‘rogue’ written all over him. “If that was all, I need to finish up here and catch my flight.”
He dismisses her by uncapping an ink pen and proceeding to sign off on the stack of reports on his desk. He focus darts to the clock on the wall and she can imagine him doing the math; the time now is 4:15pm, the injection given to Five at 12:25 their time, a passage of three hours and fifty minutes.
“The worst symptoms begin to manifest six to eight hours after exposure,” she advises as she rises to move to the door. She feels his gaze, more guarded than shocked, upon her as she turns the doorknob; “Your flight should land in California just in time.”
She looks back with a knowing arch to her brow.
“Five was an excellent operative when the program began; when you handled him. Perhaps you can remind him of his reasons for volunteering and the consequences of trying to leave the program while you’re ‘on vacation.’”
His eyes are glacial at her words, but she keeps her own gaze careful and faintly caring because she finds that something in her does care about the man that has Eric so obviously worried.
“I’ll hold down the fort,” she assures him softly. “You won’t be disturbed this weekend if I can help it.”
Without another word, she slips from the room and files the meeting away in the back of her mind.
She usually doesn’t reveal so much of her hand, but, then, neither does he. She moves two doors down the hall to her own office and enters the familiar space to begin her own preparations for ending the official day at work.
Within five minutes, she catches sight of Eric striding quickly by her open door on his way out. Part of her wonders if she should have counseled him against acting on his concern for the Operative, but she knows that it would have been a wasted effort and just further overstepping of her bounds. The schedule for viralling the subjects off the green pills had been set months ago and Eric had planned this ‘vacation’ just days after that, right around the same time that an order was put in for Five to have his mandatory break between assignments to rest and recover for a week back in the States; this has been in play too long for Dita to think she could stop it now.
It’s funny how all those ducks lined up without anyone else seeing the very obvious intent of Byer’s orders.
Dita does not write any of these observations down, though. Far too many people were eager to find a crack in Byer's defenses to bring him down.
For now, whatever is happening between the two men hasn’t affected Eric’s judgment or ability to make the tough calls on assignments involving this particular agent.
For now, she’ll just keep her eye on them.
Because she knows that they work in shadows and deal in secrets; finding solace in their line of work is rare and to be respected.
She also knows the value of keeping such information secret for Byer because the day may well come that she needs him to get her out of some darkness and she’ll take anything she can get to make sure that he’s there to back her up or bail her out.