Chapter Text
Bart was slouched in his chair, sitting as still as his desk, as he wallowed in the chaotic office around him. Telephones were ringing every second, fellow agents drummed away at their keyboards and someone was eating a bologna sandwich that they really should have left at home. Discovering who that insensitive jerk was, would have been the most interesting case Bart would have had come across his desk in months.
Moments later, he was pulled from the dual lines of thinking about his dwindling career at the CIA, and the desk fan beside him keeping him irritatingly cool.
“Agent Allen! Get in my office!” Director Drake shouted.
Tim had used to be a happy man, but years of being in a position of prestige, power and the let’s face it, a prodigious amount of responsibility, had worn him down. Not that he was the only one, most people in the office were feeling the affects of the budget cuts their department was suffering from.
“Yes Director!” Bart shouted back before springing up out of his swivel chair with more vigor than when it was quitting time. Bart paced around the maze of desks of fellow agents before entering the busy man’s office.
“Sit down Allen!” Tim barked with an unjustifiable amount of irritation.
Bart did as he was told without saying a word.
“I have an assignment for you if you’re interested.” Tim raised his glasses to stare at Bart with a stern expression.
“What’s the assignment sir?” Bart asked respectfully. He was the kind of agent who liked to be thorough, do his research and make informed decisions. Well… he wanted to be. Sometimes he would make impulsive decisions on cases, which is why he usually more often or not got stuck with desk duty. Which whilst in itself was its own kind of hell, it did provide for a nice break from the field which was fraught with the risks of drama, danger and sometimes, death.
“There’s a successful bar owner in El Paso. We’ve got enough evidence to arrest him for money laundering, however, this looks like a classic case of a frame job. I think he’s innocent.” Tim spared a pitiful glance at the Venetian blinds painting his room in the same bleak situation Jaime was facing, “We don’t have any other agents. You’re his only hope.”
“So I’m assuming it’s an undercover assignment then?” Bart lightly drummed his hands on his kneecaps as he asked the question.
“Yes.” Tim pulled his glasses back down and rose to hover over his desk like a bee, before searching through a dizzying assortment of vanilla folders, all containing sting operations. “Here it is!” The director took a moment of glance over the case file to refresh his memory once more in the off chance Agent Allen had more questions, a likely scenario.
“I don’t know…” Bart mused unsurely as Tim thumped back down in his chair with a groan.
He didn’t like undercover missions. He always felt bad getting close to his targets, and then disappearing from their lives without so much as a goodbye. It almost felt like being surgically removed. And the whole time, Bart had to hide behind a smile, whilst he knew that the scalpel of cessation of the assignment, inched closer and closer as time progressed.
Luckily Bart had never had a target in which he was required to get acquainted with the suspect via the lie of being their lover. He had only ever had to become the best friends or trusted right hand man, before vanishing from the lives of sometimes genuinely good and innocent people, without a trace.
“What’s the kind of relationship I’m expected to forge?” Bart asked as he accepted the vanilla folder being handed over to him.
“Look honestly Allen, you can marry the guy for all I care. Just get close enough to find out whether he is innocent or not!” Tim whined in that repressed, masculine tone.
Bart’s eyes widened at the director’s discourteous manner and coarse choice of wording.
“Sure.” Bart peeped, repressing the urge to not say something disrespectful.
Bart decided to distract himself by flipping the folder open for a rapid skim read. The first thing Bart’s eyes always sought out in any case file he was given, was the picture of the suspect. It wasn’t a very large picture, but Bart’s eyes stumbled across it in the research eventually.
Tim was busy fidgeting with his sleeve’s cuff to notice Bart’s eyebrows jump ever slightly. Based upon a first glance, Bart could tell the man was innocent. That definitely had nothing to do with the immediate attraction Bart felt looking at the handsome man in the picture. There was something about the man’s smile that screamed innocence. Bart took a moment to falter in the despair that would come dancing into the debonair man’s life before briskly waltzing out it.
“So are you taking the assignment or not? If not, I’ll get on the phone with the El Paso authorities and they can book him.” Tim sighed. He hated this part of his job, but he was paid a big salary to do it. He also had his wife Cassie to support, so he didn’t have much choice in the matter. A job was a job to him.
Bart continued reading the file in a desperate last sprint to make a final, informed decision based on his qualifications. But Bart knew deep down he was going to base his answer off of that photo.
He tried justifying it in his mind for sound, logical reasons. He got as far as, if he didn’t accept the case, this poor innocent man would go to jail for something he hadn’t done, before his eyes settled upon that charming smirk in the mans picture.
“I’ll take it.” Bart conceded to the decision confidently, shutting the folder with a whisper in one hand before tucking it protectively under his forearm.
“Good. I’ll arrange your transportation down to El Paso. You leave in an hour.” Tim noted nonchalantly.
“An hour sir?” Bart choked before swallowing to regain his professional composure.
“It’s cheapest to fly you out in an hour.” Tim stated looking down at his watch with disinvestment at Bart’s seemingly disrespectful protestment.
“Oh.” Bart scratched his forehead as he remember the reality of what budget cuts meant for missions like these. Historically, he would have had access to a lavish budget, that would have allowed for nice accommodation, food allowance and more. He was not looking forward to seeing the fatigued figure in his assignment’s finances.
“Do you have a wife Allen?” Tim asked with derisive cheek, Bart knew where this was going.
“No.” Bart responded omitting the user of the proper title of ‘sir’ or ‘director’ as he didn’t appreciate this line of logic.
“Do you have kids?” Tim continued pushing the bar.
“No.” Bart was struggling not to walk out of the office before the punch line.
“Well then you’ve got nothing to attend to. Ergo, leaving in an hour shouldn’t be a problem.” Tim opened up the next folder as he mentally began preparing for the next agent unlucky enough to be summoned into his agent.
“No sir.” Bart rolled his eyes as he turned and walked out of the room, reminiscing on the days when Tim used to be untroubled, and actually smiled. Although if he was being honest, he wasn’t as happy as he used to be either.
Bart was soon distracted from dwelling on his drab life (no thanks to Tim), as he dashed around madly collecting his fake ID, badge, gun and other essential items. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use the gun on this mission anyway. He would be forced to keep it concealed wherever he was accommodated.
Bart approached his last stop which was the fake ID department. The tired woman operating the desk asked for his assignment number and credentials, per standard protocol.
“Alright Mr Allen. From now you’re Matthew Malone. And your friends occasionally use the nickname ‘Matches’. Here is your driver’s license, passport, and other legal supporting documents.” The woman multi-tasked and spoke to Bart as she handed over artifact after artifact.
“Thanks.” Bart smiled in amusement at the admittedly silly sounding name.
Bart walked off with a grin, the first one he had worn at work in years. He continued finalizing a few more details and gathering digital keys to resources and databases he would likely need access to during his assignment. He wanted to conduct some background research since the information provided in the case files were never infallible.
Bart wanted to do his job, and he wanted to do it well. He walked back to his desk to pack it up. As the snow colored desk fan began brushing his skin again with impractically cool air, Bart decided that would be the one thing he wouldn’t miss most on his temporary vacation.
Bart received word his taxi had arrived. This certainly hadn’t been how he had been imagining his day to go. He strolled out of the building and hopped into the cab. Thankfully the cab driver wasn’t too talkative, allowing Bart time to rehearse and become intimately familiar with his new persona on his way to the airport.
“Good afternoon, Mr West. Business or pleasure?” A friendly airport check-in receptionist asked.
“Business.” Bart smiled but looked to his side thoughtfully as he wondered whether it might actually both. He certainly wouldn’t complain if he got some pleasure out of this trip. Especially if it was with that bodacious bartender. His mood was admittedly beginning to improve as he could almost smell the spice of adventure coming his way.
Unsurprisingly Bart was stuck in economy, but he had pleasant and tolerable people in the seats either side of him. The flight was relatively peaceful, something Bart was very much grateful for. Once getting off the plane, he strolled casually through the El Paso airport taking in the intriguing new sights. It wasn’t anything like he had imagined it to be. It was charming in a quaint way.
Bart hailed a cab with ease and provided his driver with the address of his stay according to his documentation. He wasn’t sure whether to be eager to see his new digs or not given the drastic budget cuts. He wasn’t sure what to expect.