Buckle Bunny...

Chapter 1

"Again," I scream! I've probably said it 20 times today, but it feels like once or twice. I resume my boxer's stance and prepare for another round in the FBI's practice ring. I'm thankful for a place to burn off some energy. I've been here every day this week sparing with Jackson, my 6'4, 250 pound colleague while I'm technically on "administrative leave." Secretly, I think he likes having his ass kicked by a woman, but I don't care about his weird kinks. I'm just thankful he's here today. I'm taking an absolute beating this round, but it feels good. More accurately, it's making me feel something. I lost Missy four weeks ago and while I've attended her funeral and numerous required counseling sessions, I don't feel any better about losing my best friend and my partner at the FBI. We were working seperate assignments when she died and I can't help but feel that if I had been on this particular assignment she wouldn't be dead. I also can't shake the feeling that something is off with the investigation. The bureau called her death an "unfortunate accident" with "no foul play suspected." I don't buy it. 

I'm finally starting to wear Jackson down...That's the thing about big guys like him. Lots of power, but not a lot of stamina. Basically every man I've ever met, but I digress. I take a solid left hook, but I retaliate with a 1-2 on his ribs and he starts to crumble. I'm about to go in for the kill when I hear, "Amos. You're done. Now" Pissed that I was about to take Jackson down and still frustrated with the outcome of Missy's investigation I throw my gloves down in the ring. I'm quietly cussing my SAIC (special agent in charge), Hanes, as I climb out of the ring. She throws a towel at me, "Shower. Then my office in 5." A chorus of "ooohhhssss" resound in the gym, but with one look she cuts them off.  If Hanes wasn't such a pain in my ass, I'd actually really like her. She's hands down the best and toughest boss I've had during my 7 years in the bureau, and she is definitely a force to be reckoned. Unfortunately, I can tell by her tone that I'm in some shit. I hit the showers immediately and my mind starts to go through every possible scenario. I'm definitely getting kicked out of the FBI. But, my rational brain catches up and realizes, they have spent too much time and money in my training to let me go so easily. Probably another month of desk work. Fuck. I hate sitting inside all the time, but whatever. At least I won't lose my position. I'm still just a "baby" in FBI years and I really need to keep advancing. Losing Missy has been a big hit, both personally, and professionally. I just want to keep working and find out what happened to my best friend. 

I quickly dry off, throw on my standard all black everything uniform of black turtleneck, trousors and jacket and stomp over to Hanes office. My hair is still wet and slicked back in a low and tight bun. I wear no makeup and try to keep my look as no nonsense as possible. I'm self-aware enough to know I'm traditionally "pretty", but pretty doesn't get you far in law enforcement. It takes hard work, training and a lot of grit to get by in a world of alpha males. I'm thankful Hanes doesn't seem to mind what I look like, but I still aim for low key. "Have a seat, Amos,"  she says as soon as I rasp lightly on her door. I mumble a quiet "Yes Ma'am" and find the closest seat. "Listen," she begins, "I don't have a lot of time today and honestly, watching you beat the shit out of Jackson everyday this week isn't helping my cause." She looks up and smirks, and I know we share at least a little bit of comaradier that most of these assholes need taken down a peg or...ten. 

"Callie, it's time to take a break. I open my mouth to protest as she holds up her hand. "Wait. Just listen. I know you'll have a rebuttal, so first," she takes a deep inhale and briefly closes her eyes, "Just. Listen." I stop. I'm frozen by this normally no nonsense woman in front of me closing her eyes and taking deep, meditative breaths in front of me. I'm caught offguard--which rarely happens--and I'm not sure to continue my stare or start breathing along with her when she says, eyes still closed, "Callie. Shut your mouth. It is annoying to feel you gaping at me in that way." My mouth plops closed as she begins, "I know you loved Missy. I know how hard it is to lose a partner and a best friend. But, I need you to stop beating the shit out of Jackson and start truly healing." I sigh. I know. I know. I know. "My therapist at the bureau says..." I begin. Her eyes flash open and she stops me again with the hand. "Yes, yes, I know. But, I also know you need more. You need a break. You've been working yourself thin for years now. Ever since you left West Point, and probably before that too." I glance sideways and down. She's got me there. "I want you to do something for you for a bit. Learn to surf, go to the spa, see your family?" She asks, her voice hopeful. "No, ma'am. I'm afraid I don't like to swim, I can't relax with folks touching me and I...I don't have much family left anyway." Now, it's her time to sigh. "Okay, fine. But, let me see," she flips through my open file on her desk, "Ahh, yes, you used to ride horses...like Missy." Well, not exactly. Missy was a world champion barrel racer. That's how she got her last assignment. She was the only one who could fully pass as a regular ol' cowgirl. I rode English style. My dad sent me away to summer camp every year to learn. I think he hoped I'd be an Olympian. Or, he just couldn't think of anything else to do to with me after boarding school was over each year and my grandfather died. Either way. Very different. "Er...I...What I mean is that yes, I like to ride horses, what Missy did and what I did are very different things." I begin to clarify, but Hanes interrupts me with a smile. A large, terrifying smile. "No matter. The bureau has already paid for you to spend a month in Colorado at the same ranch Missy was working undercover at while you recover...up here," she says as she lightly taps her temples. "Your flight leaves in two days. Maybe you can find some closure and come back to us. Good luck." I open my mouth again to protest, but she keeps her head down and simply says, "Dismissed." I mumble a quiet "Yes, ma'am," as a I stand and leave. 

I keep my head down as I exit our field office in Chicago. It's early November and the lake winds are picking up. I hurry to the parking garage and jump in my new BMW. If I'm honest, I get more grief for this car than it's probably worth, but it is a gift from my dad and his newest wife. I think they just felt bad that they were leaving, again, to visit the south of France and missed Missy's funeral. At least it is reliable and fast. I make it home in record time to collapse on my bed. Hopefully, this is just another weird nightmare...