Excerpt: Checkmate

The days turned to weeks and the effects of the medication upon her system were demonic. That and the fact that all evidence pointed to Pam and Windham moving closer to consummating their affair. More phone calls, emails, visits to their house when she was at work. Her tolerance of his presence waned with each passing day, and his continued dogging of her for intimate relations taxed her patience mercilessly. Her mood swings became more frequent, unpredictable and emotionally draining. Add to all of this the fact that she sank deeper into a manic depressive state and could only watch her world around her crumble without so much as the blink of her eyes. She was numb. Helpless. Couldn't defend herself.

She gradually found herself losing interest in just about everything that ever caused her joy. She wanted to continue to do all of theses things, but the demon that had taken possession of her forbid it. She tried to keep her interest up but it was futile. She began to care for her self less and less, finding that she was even unable to tolerate the clothing she wore. Buttons were infuriating as were tie shoes. Belts, socks, gloves, underwear. All were a great discomfort and she avoided wearing them. And then there was the sense of touch. She abhorred it. This included fabrics and even the natural air. Human touch became repulsive, nauseating. She felt trapped, caged, and was in a constant state of panic as if she had been caught on a battlefield unarmed and naked.

She paid less and less attention to running the household, paying the bills, doing the shopping. All she did was got to work and come home. To him. To herself. It was odd that the sole activity that kept her somewhat lucid for any length of time was her writing. She could sit and write for hours and hours, either in silence or while watching the games. She paid Windham less and less mind, and when they did engage in intimate relations she found herself becoming physically ill, barely able to endure the activity before she bolted for the bathroom to wash and, occasionally, vomit. Now she would rarely allow him to penetrate her, choosing reluctantly, to pleasure him with oral sex, just to shut him up and satiate him enough to leave her the hell alone. Either act was deplorable and abhorrent to her, it feeling like the act of rape, but the ruse had to continue until she could care for herself again. She felt defenseless, helpless.

Her thrapst was becoming useless to her. He didn't help her much these days. She continued to see him on the advice of her OBGYN but she tired of these visits with each passing month. At their last meeting he had again asked if Windham would seek counciling, and again she told him that he wouldn't. What was it with these idiot bastards? She had always found shrinks useless and a species that just used up perfectly good air. Her job was suffering greatly, her boss though still very tolerant and patient, was finding more and more errors in her editing. Her mind wandered, floated. She could no longer concentrate, or force herself to. She felt disjointed from her own body, feeling more like a puppet being tugged to and fro at the whim of some unseen puppeteer.

She withdrew into her self and her writing. Her dreams became more vivid, lifelike, controlling. Instead of occasionally thinking about the characters in her dreams and stories, they began to come to life, and she swore that she would hear them talking to her throughout the day and into the evening. She thought she was in a constant state of hallucination but the situation fed her writing habit with rich and fertile material for her prose. Tolkien became her best friend and the Lord of the Rings trilogy her crutch. Every night she would dream of elves and magic, then her fantasmic fantasies would weave and meld with them. Damn, she had some good stuff here.

Rachel snickered as she sat on the train scribbling into her journal. This shit she was writing could become a fucking best seller. She couldn't MAKE this stuff up! She shivered as she felt an emotional upheaval begin to wash over her. “Jesus fucking Christ! Not now! Not HERE! FUCK!” The tears started to pour down her face as she rummaged blindly through her backpack to find some tissue. This was insane! Maddening! AS she found a crumpled Kleenex at the bottom of the bag, she heard a soothing voice telling her that all would be well and to just hold on. She dabbed at her eyes and readjusted her sunglasses as the conductor came by her seat to check her pass. She nodded in good morning then took the pass from the seat holder and put it into her wallet. Where the fuck did that voice come from?

She looked down at her journal and her eyes widened. She couldn't believe what she had written. It was a piece of fantasy fiction! And the character that she had heard was Darval! It was his voice, plan as day. She could have sworn he was sitting right beside her!

“Get the fuck outta my head, you bastard!”She hissed lowly and snapped the notebook shut. When she looked up several people in the adjoining seats had glanced up at her. She rolled her eyes and gave them a dirty mind-your-own-business look. They looked away quickly. She thought that she had spoken quietly enough. She sighed, dropped the journal into her bag and rested her head back, closing her eyes. She had to get some sleep. The past couple weeks she had averaged about 3 hours a night with one night a week saved especially for fucking insomnia. Chronic fatigue was settling in fast but she restrained from taking anything for it. She had to remain in control of her senses. God knew she had very little of that but, add more medication to her plight, and she might as well be in an insane asylum. She grimaced with her eyes closed. She wished she were dead. Long dead...

“East FUCKING Germany! Jesus...” Eric was mumbling under his breath as they entered the office. Rachel merely smirked as she headed to her desk and rummaged for something in her top drawer. Finding it, she grabbed the parcel of files, tucked them under her arm and made her way to the door. Eric cast her a snide sideways glance hissing, “Am I out of line if I simply ask where you are going?” He paused, glaring mercilessly at the woman. “Or is it none of my fucking business like every else that seems to be going on around here...”

Rachel didn't even stop to answer, “Yes and, yes...”

She could feel the boy's anger come off of him in waves as he slammed the cover of one of the steel film cases onto his desktop. The sound echoed off the bare corridor walls as Rachel made her way to her superior's office. This was going to be a very difficult journey as it was and she could not afford to have a trainee, okay, a nearly fully fledged agent, get romantically involved with her. HE was young, impressionable, and reckless at times. Well, not that she was all that much older, and she was known to be reckless now and again, but hell, there was nothing impressionable about her. That quality slipped away long ago, along with any naivety she had once been guilty of. She continued walking. She hoped the commissioner would keep him well occupied and out of trouble while she was gone. This last thought passed through her mind as she rounded the corner and knocked on her commander's door.

“Come!”

She took a breath and turned the knob, entering his office. She was not prepared for what was to be discussed at this meeting.

~#~

“What the hell do you mean he's coming with me?” Rachel glared daggers at her superior across the desk.

“Gary! He's a kid! HE hasn't even completed his training for fuck's sake! He 's a goddamn accident waiting to happen!”

“I didn't give you permission to speak freely Lt.”

Rachel scoffed and pushed herself away from the desk and further back in her chair, crossing her arms in anger.

“Eric is fully trained, Rachel. You know as well as I do that all we were waiting for were the academy results.”

Rachel gave him a pointed look. “I don't need anyone. I have never had a partner when I travel abroad and I sure a hell don't WANT one this time around.”

“He's going. He has been assigned and it will be good experience for him.”

“He'll get his ass shot off, Gary! He'll get himself killed! Maybe BOTH of us!”

“I will trust you to keep that from happening, Rachel. This is not that dangerous a sortie.”

Rachel's brows shot up at this. Not dangerous?

She leaned forward, her folded hands resting firmly atop Gary's desk. Her gaze bored straight through the man who wavered ever so slightly, not accustomed to having such aimed in his direction. He regained his composure instantly and waited passively for the verbal onslaught that was inevitably to come.

“Not dangerous. Okay then. What do you call flying to a communist country on fabricated credentials of a returning diplomat, eh? Having to speak the language as fluently as a native AND infiltrating the database of a highly sophisticated banking system?” She leaned back after making her point.

“It's very convenient for us that you look amazingly similar to that diplomat, Rachel. You've been in worse situations. I don't see it as a problem.”

She snorted in anger. “Don't see it as a problem....” She stood over the desk now and glared at the man who merely looked calmly back up at her. “I never had a fucking boat anchor to drag along with me, Gary! That's why I've never had a problem!”

“He's going.” Gary put his glasses on and bent his head to read a document that he had just picked up off a stack of files. That was his signal for her to leave. She gritted her teeth and made to respond when he said without looking up, “Deal with it. Discussion over. Have a nice trip. Oh, and you better brush up on your German while you can...” He smirked. That assuredly went up her ass sideways. He chuckled as the door slammed shut behind the woman with such force that the top pane of glass cracked across its face. He grinned as he returned his attention to the paperwork on his desk.

She stood there for a few moments in silent rage before turning on her heel and storming out of his office. “Fucking son of a bitch...” She left Gary's assistant looking after her in bewilderment, a string of expletives ringing in his ears as she stomped back to her office down the hall to a ringing phone.

Rachel awoke to the ring of the train alerts and the call of the conductor saying that they were at South Station. He was tapping her seat to wake her up.

“We're here, miss. “

“Uh, thanks.” Her reply was weak and slurred as she came out of her stupor, grabbed her bag and headed out the door. The wind whipped down through the platform and it looked like it was going to rain . Shit. She wasn't wearing any rain gear. She hefted the backpack over her shoulder and stepped from the station's steps to the street. Just as her feet touched the sidewalk the skies opened up. Fucking lovely... She pulled her collar up around her throat and then dashed across the street when the light turned. Another miserable fucking day. She hurried to the office cursing as had become the tradition nearly every day. As the elevator doors closed and started to rise it lurched sharply and the alarm went off.

She closed her eyes, leaned against the back wall and grimaced, cursing of course. She opened her eyes, pushed herself away from the wall and stooped down to open the emergency phone door. She punched the button below it and waited. A few moments later the phone rang and a female voice came over the line. Rachel explained the situation, gave her the elevator number and her name, department and supervisor's name. This was just great. A meeting at 9 and it was 8:45. Not going to make it. Even though it wasn't her fault, this was an important one. Her boss would not be pleased but even she couldn't blame this one on her.

AS she stood there waiting for the elevator company to arrive, she began to feel strangely. It began as an annoying ache in her lower right abdominal area. Within 10 minutes it had bloomed into a dull throb and became painful to the touch. She started to break out in beads of sweat followed by a wave of chills. What the fuck?

Suddenly the doors opened and two very nice looking guys helped her out onto the floor. The elevator was 8 or so inches above the 5th floor. She thanked them and made her way quickly to the bathroom. There she looked in the mirror and saw a ghost looking back. She was pale as death. And in excruciating pain. She threw cold water on her face and toweled off as she made her way out and into the main office. She signed in and told her boss what happened then went to go to her desk when XXX called her into her office and closed the door.

“Rachel ! What's wrong? You look terrible!”

Rachel dropped into a chair now gasping in pain. “I th...think it's a ruptured ovarian cyst. You know...what I went to the ultrasound for last week. I think its blown...”

I'll call the medics.” XXX reached for the phone when Rachel halted her actions. “No. No. I'll be okay. I think. I just need to stay here and not move for a few moments.”

“Rachel...”

“K, ok...” Rachel was in no condition to argue and XXX called the paramedics. They arrived within 10 minutes and bundled her off to the hospital. She called her boss and told her what was happening then had to hang around until the last lab tests came back. Sure enough it was a ruptured cyst. Once medicated, Rachel asked for her phone so that she could call her OBGYN. XXX Told her to continue treatment and that she was scheduling her in for an appointment tomorrow morning. Next she called Windham who, surprisingly, sounded very concerned.

'How are you getting home?”

“I'll take the train. Once the pain is less I can get out of here. I'll be home in a few hours.”

“So you want me to come and get you. Leave the car at the train station?”

“Nah. I'll be fine by then.”

“Ok. See you then. Think you'll be ok to go to the diner for dinner?”

“Yeah. Sure. Bye.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

Whatever... She hung up and then lay back in the bed. This was just wonderful. Not only was her mind controlled by demons, now her body was all fucked up to boot. Just as he began pondering the easiest way to cut her own throat the doctor came in with a prescription for pain meds to get her through the night. He said that she was fine to leave if she was not in discomfort. She thanked him and made to get up out of bed after he left. She was slightly bent over as she made her way to the clothes closet, the pain still having her in its grip, but she dealt with it and dressed as quickly as she could. She signed out and then made for the street. She pulled the train schedule out of her pocket and studied it for a bit. With any luck she could catch the 2:15 if she hurried. Damn...She was in that damn place for four hours?! Jesus. She was growing tired of medical shit.

That afternoon, she was feeling well enough to go out to eat but the pain still stayed with her. She tried to sit up and watch the game but she had to lie on the couch most of the time. Windham really showed some concern, trying to make her comfortable, getting her water, pillows, even her woolly socks.

“What does your doctor say?”

“She wants me to have another ultrasound and to see her in the morning.”

“So you want me to drive you? I mean, are you supposed to drive?”

“I'm fine to drive now. I'll go myself. I though you had to meet Craig tomorrow morning anyway?”

He thought a moment then said, 'Shit! I forgot!” He shook his head. “Ok then. If you say you'll be ok...”

“Yeah. I will.”

They watched the rest of the game and went to bed. In the middle of the night she was hit with a vicious panic attack that woke Windham for the first time since she had been in this condition.

“What's wrong? What's the matter?”

“Pa...panic attack...” Her breathing was labored as she clutched her chest and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. Before he could react, Rachel bolted from the bed and headed out to the deck where she usually went when one of these struck. It was the third week of February and this was the coldest night of the week so far but she didn't seem fazed by the cold, Windham noted.

“For Christ's sake! Put on some shoes!” He hollered after her, seeing her run out onto the frozen snow from a fall two days before.

Rachel grimaced as her chest heaved, trying to breathe. He didn't have a fucking clue. She even took off her robe, it now lying in a heap beside the bench she sat on. She was naked as usual and sweating profusely. Windham stood in the doorway hollering to put on her robe but she paid him no mind. She had to discuss this with XXXX. She couldn't take this shit anymore.

“Sweetie, come in, please...”

“I can't. Not yet. It's not over yet.”

“Ah Jesus...” He mumbled as he closed the door and ambled back to the bedroom. When it finally passed, Rachel started to shiver violently. She grabbed her now nearly frozen robe and ran into the house. She sat at the counter for a few moments as she warmed up and heard Windham come down the hall.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah. Now.”

“Has this happened before?”

“Yeah. Many times.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

Usually Rachel would bite her tongue instead to tell the SOB what she really felt but this time she let loose.

“Because you don't seem to give a shit about what is happening to me.”

Before he could respond, Rachel stood and walked down the hall to the bedroom, took off her robs and crawled under the covers. Windham didn't say a word as he climbed in next to her. She felt his arm drape over her waist and she nearly retched. But, she was too exhausted to complain further and drifted off to an uneasy sleep.