Chapter Text
It’s too early when her phone rings.
It’s always too early when her phone rings.
Chloe squints in the unfamiliar dimness, dragging herself out of the bed and fumbling on the ground for her pants. Her phone rings, again, sharp and shrill, and she winces, the noise rebounding inside her skull.
In the bed, Megan stirs, muttering something about damned alarms.
Chloe blinks at the screen. 7 AM. ‘R.’
“Yeah?” Chloe mumbles, before R’s curt and clear voice suddenly cuts into her ear.
“Agent Price. New assignment. Report to HQ as soon as you can.” Her boss hangs up, and Chloe’s left listening to the end dial tone.
Right. R was never a person that liked to beat around the bush.
Chloe sighs and starts pulling her pants on, using the light of her phone to find the rest of her clothes, trying to clear her mind. But even in the tiny light from the screen, she winces, feeling the burn at the edges of her eyes. She might’ve gone overboard with the drinks last night -- it happens -- and goddamnit, when she gets to work, she knows Brooke’s gonna give her that smug asshole smile. Only Brooke enjoys it when she looks like a piece of shit.
“Heading out?” Megan asks, drawing the blanket up her bare chest and glancing over at Chloe.
“Yeah, work. Thanks for last night, Meg,” Chloe says, stepping into the bathroom and turning on the light there. It blinds her, for a second, but she needs to get herself awake anyway.
“Sure.”
The water from the faucet is cool, and she can hear Megan moving around her room, opening her closet.
“You interested in doing this again?” Megan calls out to her.
It was fun. Chloe admits that much.
But it’s just like all the other hookups. A one time thing.
“I’ll let you know.”
Chloe comes out to see Megan’s on her bed, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, scrolling through her phone. She glances up, running a hand through her short, blonde hair when Chloe starts picking up her discarded clothes.
“You always dress in suits?” Megan asks.
Chloe shrugs, buttoning up her shirt, flattening out the collar in the reflection of the mirror on the wall. Then she buckles her belt before straightening her suspenders; her shock of blue hair stands out from her ‘business’ uniform.
“Be seeing you,” Chloe says, heading out the door.
“See you.”
---
When she slams the door to her truck and revs the engine, she already feels tired. A glance in her rearview mirror is enough to tell her that the bags underneath her eyes are a sign of lack of normalcy.
Normal.
As if she’s ever been able to recognize normal.
She stops by her apartment to take a shower and put on a new suit. Her place is empty, except for a few necessities. Bare walls. A table, a chair. A bed. Clothes in the closet. Handguns in the space below the loose floorboard in the kitchen.
She doesn’t need anything else.
When she slides her PPK into its holster at her hip, she looks at herself in the cracked bathroom mirror; she reaches her fist up, holds it right up against the spot where she’d punched it so long ago.
When she’d picked the glass shards out of her hand later that night, she hadn’t felt any pain. After a couple of bullets a month for the last...shit, how many years? The physical pain feels like nothing, just small pin-pricks in her skin that bleed and tell her she’s still alive.
She leaves the apartment and gets into her truck again, driving that same route to headquarters, the one that never changes.
When she gets to work, she doesn’t even look at the elevator button when she presses it, doesn’t look at the floor number either. Muscle memory’s enough for her to go on.
When she gets to the top floor, she’s greeted by Dana Moneypenny’s award-winning smile.
She knows Dana’s always grateful for time off from the field. Dana’s never been one for field work. She prefers her desk job in front of R’s office, prefers being a glorified secretary over the hail of gunfire that usually happens when she’s paired with Chloe. Not that Chloe blames her.
Even if the two are total opposites, she knows Dana’s always got her back. Dana’s saved her ass multiple times.
She hopes it’s not Dana that ends up finding her dead in a ditch someday.
“Hey, beautiful,” Chloe says, grinning and winking as she steps out of the elevator.
Dana rolls her eyes, gestures with her coffee mug at the set of double doors to her right. “C’mon, Chloe. You’ve been here long enough to know that complimenting me won’t get me to soften up R for you.”
“‘Course not, I know that,” Chloe says, placing her palm flat on Dana’s desk and leaning forward. “You look fucking amaz-”
“And you’re late, so you better haul ass and get inside, hotshot,” Dana says, taking a sip from her mug.
“She said to get here as soon as I could, so here I am!”
“You know as well as I do that R expects you to show up at ten for new assignments, and oh, look at the time,” Dana says dryly, pointing a finger at the clock on the wall. “It’s eleven. You could at least try sometimes, Chlo.”
“I try. I try all the time when I’m out there, you know, shootin’ up the bad guys,” Chloe says, miming two finger guns and making small ‘pew pew’ noises under her breath.
“Shootin’ up? Chloe, you literally blow things up every mission,” Dana says pointedly, pulling up on her computer a series of images of cars on fire, buildings demolished, helicopters and planes smashed into the ground. “And let’s not forget your last mission--”
“That kingpin started firing at me with a fucking grenade launcher! What was I supposed to do, just stand there and let him blow me up--”
“No, but your plan was to take a rocket launcher and blow him up instead,” Dana says, almost slamming her mug on the table. “You almost died - you took out the entire cliffside, him and you with it.”
Chloe looks away from Dana’s sharp gaze, chewing on the inside of her cheek. It takes her a moment, and she swallows before answering.
“Yeah, but I got the job done. Kingpin came out alive, even though his legs were all fucked up, and he was arrested for his crimes,” Chloe says, brushing some dust off her shoulder. “Done and done. Mission accomplished. That’s what matters.”
“You matter too, Chloe,” Dana says, her voice a little softer. She leans back in her chair, reaching behind her to tighten her ponytail. “I care about what happens to you, you know. And as much as Q’s an asshole to you, I know she cares too. You need to take care of yourself.”
“I am taking care of myself,” Chloe says automatically, but even she can hear the hollowness of the words. And she knows it doesn’t fool Dana, from the way Dana purses her lips, the way her jaw tightens, just slightly.
“I know this might just seem like work to you, Chloe,” Dana says, picking up her mug again. “But we’re your friends. Honestly, we’re just trying to look out for you.”
“Dana,” Chloe starts, looking her in the eye this time. “I'm literally one of the best agents in the CIA. I can look after myself.”
Maybe it’s the way she says it that gets Dana to drop the subject, but Dana just shakes her head and waves a hand at the set of double doors again.
“Right, sure, Chloe. R will see you now.”
Chloe lets out a huff of breath before shoving her hands in her pockets and sauntering over to the set of double doors.
Same old, same old.