Just a silly little fic I wrote based on my own ideas for the character of Sarah and spoilers from the upcoming season. Episode 10, I think. So beware.
Life rarely goes as planned, Sarah Lisa Burton, aka Sarah Walker mused.
At 28 years old, Sarah was a seasoned and decorated CIA Agent. A veteran of numerous covert operations. She was the girl assigned to the jobs that absolutely had to get done. And because she always got those jobs done, her future was bright. Assistant Directorship bright, at least. Or so most everyone at the Agency thought.
That wasn't the case eleven years ago. Back then, Sarah knew exactly what her fate would be. And that fate was to spend a series of 12 to 24 month stretches at various women's detention facilities in and around Baltimore.
She could admit it now. She was a bum during her teenage years. Thanks mostly to her father, a career grifter and conman. Together, the duo made a great pair. Whether it was the time when she was 12 and got into an "accident" with an armored car so dad could lift a couple money bags, or when she was 17 and used to distract gas station cashiers with her wares so he could pilfer the registers.
Yeah, she did a lot of naughty stuff. Everything from boosting electronics from warehouses to stealing cars and delivering them to chop shops. Never drugs, though. Dad simply put his foot down when it came to drugs.
It wasn't a bad life. Sure, she did a few stretches in juvie. And yeah, there were times spent in foster care when dad went away (once when he took the blame for a crime she had committed). But he took care of her. His enterprises made enough to send her off to college (which she really didn't want to attend).
The University of Maryland-Baltimore County. It wasn't so bad. At least, the two semesters she actually attended before being expelled for breaking into the psychology offices, copying the tests, and selling them for 20 bucks a pop.
Well, her father had been impressed by her capitalistic spirit. Douglas Walker, UMBC psychology professor – and former CIA Agent – was interested for other reasons.
He stopped by her dorm room as she packed, ready to leave. He told her how impressed he was that she broke in cleanly and left absolutely no evidence of her presence. It was only bad luck one of her clients grew a conscience.
After telling him to piss off, he told her to sit down and shut up. He then proceeded to tell her exactly how worthless her life was going to be if she didn't shape up. He then referred her to an old contact at the Agency. Less than a month later, she was in Langley at the training academy.
To her considerable surprise, she didn't wash out. In fact, she enjoyed it. So much so that she barely even gave thought to stealing Deputy Director Calvin's BMW and selling it to the local chop shop.
Nope. Life certainly didn't go as planned. Ten years ago, Sarah never would have imagined she'd be in Los Angeles, protecting a high value asset. An asset, it should be noted, she was probably in love with. Nor did she imagine herself at said asset's sister's bachelorette party, sipping a mojito and watching a buff young man in a blue thong gyrate to some rock anthem from a 1980's hair band.
On cue, her cell phone rang.
"Hey Chuck. How's Awesome's bachelor party?"
"Fine, I guess. How are things there?"
"Good, good. Just terrific," she said as the attractive man waived his junk in her face. "The mojitos here are fantastic. What's in a mojito, anyway? Moe-heeee-toe."
There was a pause on the other end.
"Are you drunk?"
"Getting there, yup. Isn't mojito a great word? Moe-heeeee-toe." A pause. "So how are you?"
"I'm fine. Busy trying to keep Casey from pounding Morgan's skull open."
"Aw. Morgan. He's like a little pixie. With facial hair."
"Wow. You are sauced. Do you have a designated driver?"
"Yup. One of Ellie's lady doctor friends is driving. Moe-heeee-toe. I need another moe-heeee-toe."
"Yeeeaahhh. You're smashed. Just promise me—Wait. Morgan! Stop that! Don't touch the—" an ear piercing scream echoed from the phone. "Sarah? I gotta take Morgan to the hospital. He tried to touch the stripper and she broke his wrist."
"Aw. Poor Pixie. Well okay then, Chuck. Love ya."
About two seconds after she snapped the phone shut she realized what she said. Oh well, she was drunk. She couldn't be held accountable.
Sarah fished a c-note from her purse and flashed it at another of the club's gorgeous male employees.
"Hey babe! Fetch me another moe-heeee-toe. And give the lady of the hour a show, would ya?" The pretty boy took the money and smiled. To herself, she murmured, "Moe-heeee-toe."
Suddenly, a smiling and tipsy Ellie turned to her. "Thanks for coming, Sarah. It means a lot to me."
Sarah saluted with her drink. "No problem-o." She frowned. "Problem-o? I don't say problem-o." To Ellie, "Problem-o. That's a very Chuck thing to say, isn't it?"
"Yup," Ellie smiled. "I think he's rubbing off on you. Who knows, maybe one day soon I'll be planning your bachelorette party."
Sarah choked on her moe-heeee-toe.
Yeah, I know. That was stupid. But what are you gonna do about it? You don't know where I live.