How I Met Your Mother Ch. 08

How I Met Your Mother: Shattered Glass

76 Burrow Street

The low tonal quality of the sound was the most frustrating part of it. The droning noise slowly pierced the veil of sleep, tearing through the fog that surrounded the synaptic relays. Eventually the noise reached a crescendo, forcing her into action.

"For God's sake, you're snoring again Andrew." Leah said as she jabbed him in the ribs with her fingers.

"Uhmm, what? Sorry." Andrew mumbled as he rolled over in bed.

****

New York

January

She could tell by the way the old waitress behind the counter eyed her that she was worried a health inspector had just walked in. And she should have been, Leah mused as she slid into a booth. The plastic squeaked under her. She wiped the table lightly with a napkin and wished she had waited another freeway exit to find food.

The night was sinking in around the windows of the diner, stunted by the harsh orange glow of streetlamps that gave deep shadows to the already unwelcoming visages of the industrial area. It seemed a place where everything and nothing was possible, where the dark could hold your deepest nightmares or the absolute emptiness of solitude. The thought made her bones hurt.

She felt as if she were in a transit station for the universe, the only place where one could feel completely alone; yet hold in their hands any ending they desired. Despite the silver lining, she would be glad to get on the road again. The diner sat like an old Formica music box stuffed in a forgotten dark closet of the world, shining unearthly white in the despair. The buzzing of the florescent lights fed her growing anxiety. She eyed a jukebox in the corner but couldn't get her legs to move.

The old waitress squeaked over timidly. Clearly intimidated, she flopped a smudgy menu on the tabletop and asked if Leah wanted a beverage. She ordered coffee and the woman scurried off, returning with a beige cup and saucer and a steaming pot. Leah watched her fill it, cleared her throat and ordered the Monte Cristo. Wrinkles formed as the waitress forced a smile, swiped the menu and walked away.

Leah watched her behind her coffee cup, a twinkle in her eye and a smirk on her lips. Projection was an amazing attribute of the human mind, she thought. Everywhere she went she became everyone's greatest fear without trying or even knowing what he or she was scared of. She would have been lying if she said she didn't take advantage of it.

Leah hadn't had time to appreciate the diner being completely empty; she regretted this when the sound of the tarnished bell echoed off the tile as the front door swung open. She looked up from her black coffee and felt her legs tense. Her hands around the ceramic cup gripped like iron claws. Jaw muscles ached. Yet her face remained painted stoic; unsurprised, unimpressed, and unafraid.

The poor old waitress nearly fainted. While it was clear her new arrival wasn't the health inspector, he held even darker promises than her current customer. His leather coat creaked as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared across the restaurant at Leah. The mass of facial hair surrounding his face served as a hint at just how long it had been since she saw him last. From the right angle, they appeared as two gunslingers sizing up the enemy before a firefight.

Finally he acquiesced. Without any air of defeat, he began to walk over to her booth. He slid across from her without a word, dropping his rough hands on the tabletop and giving her a full once-over with his dark eyes. Leah did her best not to noticeably stiffen when the ends of his lips curled in a nearly invisible smile. Instead, she parried with her own smirk.

"Look what the cat dragged in." His smile widened substantially. He scratched an itch on the side of his scruffy visage and seemed to be remembering some old memory as he looked away and continued smiling. He almost looked happy as he appraised her.

"You're a hard woman to find."

"And I would have been impossible to find had I known you were ghosting me Andrew." She said with a quirked eyebrow. Andrew's smile turned condescending.

"Leah, we both knew I would come looking for you." Leah compromised with a nod. "Never underestimate stupidity or insanity, yeah?" His smile faded. She sipped her black coffee as the waitress crept over like a mouse walking through a viper's den. She set the sandwich before Leah and handed the stranger a menu. He gave her one of his most charming smiles that could have melted the coldest heart and asked for a soda. She hurried away.

The two remained silent until the soda had arrived. He reminded Leah of a child as he sipped it loudly through a bent white straw. She chastised herself for the sympathy. Andrew man sighed.

"So how long have you been after me?" Leah continued to ignore her sandwich, choosing instead to pick at her short nails.

"Two or three weeks." She replied. "Where did you put it?"

"You mean you don't know?" Andrew answered. "I take it you've looked in all the usual places?" She shrugged and ran her fingertips under her tired eyes.

"It's not every day that an agent goes rogue and steals three canisters of experimental CN-20 nerve toxin from a research laboratory, so you can understand that this is a little wider than whatever our issues were." She paused. "Besides, I've had nothing to do with the main operation Andrew. All my information is second hand." Andrew immediately scoffed, slumping into the booth.

"Please, Leah. The entirety of the Department is mobilised to track me down and you expect me to believe you had nothing to do with it?" Leah challenged him silently, giving him a look with her deep brown eyes that dared him to find a lick of dishonesty on her face. It was close enough to a signal of submission that Leah felt uncomfortable with her decision. Andrew sat dark and confused, a frown furrowing his brow. He stared at her face, searching intently. He quirked his head finally, tapped his fingers on the tabletop.

"I knew it! I bloody knew it! I thought all along you had been behind the search." Leah shook her head softly, long hair shuddering over her shoulders. She entwined her fingers and rested her chin.

"Believe me, my involvement was simply peripheral. Besides, you of all people are aware I'm not the only one who considers you a weed in the garden." A cocky smirk crossed Andrew's face, but he shrugged humbly nonetheless as he raised an arm to rest on the back of the booth.

"I suppose -- if I'm honest -- I had an inkling that I wasn't exactly considered to be the head boy in our class." Leah picked up her cup and slurped coffee loudly; she found her stomach turning at his ego. She licked her lips and offered bitingly.

"So, are you at least going to do me the courtesy of telling me why you did it?" Andrew's face sat unreadable, however the anxious habit of rubbing his silver ring was not lost on Leah. His pride could have smothered them both. However, he managed to do something he hadn't achieved in nearly a decade; he surprised her. Taking his arm down, his voice floated over, in a tone she had not heard him use in what seemed an eternity.

"Honestly, the offer was simply too good to pass up." His reply was direct and too the point. "Plus things between us were hardly going swimmingly, so I thought I should start planning ahead, you know, like filling up my retirement fund." Leah flinched; Andrew looked up with pain and met her eyes. The moment was brief; before they both inhaled, they were back on guard with steeled expressions.

The waitress made a timid appearance to refill their drinks. Leah was grateful for the interruption. After she vacated, Andrew sighed dramatically and leaned his forearms on the table, "Well, seeing as I'm now a marked man I suppose I should count my blessings that you agreed to meet -- once more for old times sake." He looked around the diner. "I suppose it's too late to roll back the clock?"

"Just a little." Leah agreed sarcastically with a sip of coffee. Andrew's eyes hardened; he hadn't expected a fight.

"So, does the condemned man get a last request?" Unabashedly, Leah's harsh laugh ripped into the air.

"What? Let me guess, you want me to call them off?"

"Bingo!" He relaxed confidently and sucked down soda. She shook her head, incredulous, holding her coffee above the table.

"That's not going to happen." He acted as if he'd expected her answer.

"C'mon, Leah. I know you've got more power over there than even you will admit. Pull some strings and get this whole thing dropped."

"You've got to be kidding me, Andrew."

"We both know you would be miserable with me dead." The dark humour fell like a stone. The line was a slice through her heart, and an ignition of long-lingering animosity. Immediately Andrew's eyes betrayed his worry that he made a mistake, however brief the thought was. He didn't waiver again, but sat cocky and calm, half a grin threatening the borders of his lips. "Who else would you have to chase around the globe after I'm gone?"

The air hung thick with murderous lust. Leah bored daggers into him, embers burning in her gaze. He held it steadily. She attempted to swallow her rage with a sip of coffee.

"I'm not calling this thing off, Andrew," She hissed tersely in a voice that sounded not her own. "Sleep in the bed you made." The metaphor seemed to amuse him.

"The bed you almost slept in next to me?" Leah rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"You never quit, do you? That card no longer grants you the upper hand, Andrew. In order for that to work, I would have to give a shit."

"And we both know you do."

"Then you've got your head up your ass." Andrew's face darkened, and it was clear the plan in his head had a much different outcome. He leaned forward on the table and lowered his voice.

"I made you what you are, Leah. You almost joined my side, remember? You were ready to drop everything and travel the world, killing with me. You would have done anything for me. I'm sure your employers would be none too pleased to know how close you came to becoming one they would be hunting." Leah scoffed.

"Are you blackmailing me?" When he didn't answer, but remained staring, she laughed again. "My dear Andrew; desperation does not become you."

"You think I won't do it?"

"Not at all; I'm sure you would. The key to blackmail, however, is that you actually have something to leverage against me. Which you don't."

"Oh, so telling that fat, fascist prick of a boss you almost became a contract killer isn't leverage? What, are you fucking Benedict now?" Andrew spat. His remark earned another eye-roll. "You presume, dear, that they don't already know."

"Bullshit." She shrugged flippantly. "Try it and see, then." Andrew fell silent. His jaw clenched in anger. He pushed his index finger on the table like a pointer, as if to validate his words.

"You're a hypocrite, Leah. You were almost there, becoming me, and now you hunt me like you're the mighty hammer of God. You're no different than me. You kill just the same as I do."

"Almost isn't close enough Andrew. And now I spend my life doing what I was meant to: taking down people like you. In the end, we both sleep well at night, and that's really what matters isn't it?" Her tone rang bitter and merciless as she dropped her coffee cup into the saucer loudly.

"So self-righteous, aren't you? Tell me then, why are we talking? Why haven't you pulled your piece and blown me away?" Leah hesitated. A telling shadow flickered over her face. She looked away from his stare and out into the night, watching a cat skirt around a building corner.

"I came here to warn you -- to tell you that it's not too late to turn yourself in." Andrew could see her swallowing hard. "That's the reason I asked to meet you" It was Andrew's turn to laugh out loud. He slumped back in the booth.

"You're a fucking piece of work." Leah recovered quickly, a sarcastic glint in her eyes. They both knew she had the upper hand, despite her not using opportunity to take him out. It was he who was the weaker at this moment; he, the dark stranger able to flip his conscience off like a switch who was now more or less begging for his life, and from someone whose strength he continually misjudged. The thought enraged his entire being; this was not a man accustomed to being below anyone, much less his former student. Andrew slowly began to lose control.

So he attacked the only part of her he could think of as vulnerable.

"It's not my fault you loved me, you know." He suddenly blurted. "It's not my fault you got your heart broken. One cannot deny the very nature of their essence." Leah swallowed laboriously, but scoffed with a dangerous half smirk.

"I don't need a history lesson. And in this instance it's irrelevant. If I wanted to avenge the years you took from me, you'd have been dead long before now." He sneered, a gesture to show his disbelief at such a possibility.

"And yet you will do nothing to stop these others from coming after me. The gun might as well be in your hand."

"No, Andrew. I won't stop them, but I won't help them either. This matter has nothing to do with me. I'm not saving you this time." The finality in her voice startled them both.

"What about your men? I don't exactly have a reputation for throwing tea parties. You wouldn't save them from a fate they will most likely be given for coming after me?" Andrew countered. Leah smirked disgustedly at his arrogance.

"They took the job with full knowledge of its risks. They're grown-ups, they made their own decisions."

"So Saint Leah washes her hands of the entire affair?"

"Now you're getting it." Andrew paused, flustered. He clenched his jaw and looked out the window, watching a truck lumber by in the inky night. Pain and hatred clawed at his mind, and he felt his heart begin to beat faster. He didn't know if he could break her. Andrew turned back to Leah and locked her stare with black eyes. He leaned over the table towards her, painfully slow, like a panther stalking his prey. He said in a voice icy enough to freeze rivers.

"You know I could kill you any time I wanted." Leah didn't blink, didn't waver. But her face softened as she answered him truthfully.

"Probably, yes." Her answer forced Andrew to swallow, to hesitate. He was silent for a long moment.

"You're the only person I've ever known who isn't afraid of that threat from me." His cracked voice betrayed his confusion that rode the reverberations unguarded.

Leah considered, her expression revealing, but without shame, "I suppose that comes from the satisfaction of knowing that even if you kill me, one day, someone else will kill you too." She took a sip of coffee and added, "If they haven't already."

Andrew blinked. He felt the heat of flush rising in his face, heard his leather jacket creak under his weighted breathing. There were secrets in her words for no one else but him; secrets hidden behind semantics. Literal death did not suit the blow she was delivering; she was the messenger for something larger, for an oracle long gone from their world. It simultaneously infuriated him and saddened him to the brink of depression.

Leah watched him, jaw tensed tight and threatening. She gave not an inch. Her cold demeanour was unmistakable and not even the sight of his tear-wrapped eyes could thaw her. Pride at her own strength ran like warm poison through her veins.

Andrew finally dropped her stare. He suppressed a shudder as the realization of hopelessness travelled through him. Like a devil whispering in his ear, he could feel the cold butt of his .357 Magnum pushing into his ribs. His fingers itched at the temptation, but he couldn't force his hand to move as soon as he looked back at Leah's makeup-less face, watching him like the numb little girl waiting to be hit by her father. He swallowed and looked down, resigned. He reached in his other pocket, away from his weapon; he watched Leah tense immediately, unlocking her gun from its holster behind her back with smooth fluidity. He looked into her eyes calmly as he placed a large folded black knife on the table between them. She recognized it as one he'd had for years, but could not recall where he got it. She eyed him questioningly.

Andrew finished the last of his soda with a loud slurp and rose from the booth. Leah still had a hand on her back, ready to draw. She eased it as he zipped up his jacket. He dug into his pockets and fished out some tarnished quarters. He jingled them in his hand and looked down at the knife, and then back to her.

"If you kill me," Andrew said in a dark velvet voice. "Bury the knife with me. But if I kill you first, I'll be taking it back with me." He left the door to her imagination wide open and exited hauntingly with lost remnants of his dignity.

Leah looked down at the blade, and its flowing silver inlay. His eyes seemed to reflect its brilliance from somewhere deep within, as she looked back up to him and nodded. He returned it gently and shuffled off.

She watched his broad shoulders and shiny hair as he stopped at the jukebox and slid the quarters in with a clanking noise. He mashed the old buttons down and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Turning for the door, he gave her one last look from across the diner, then put his head down and disappeared into the concrete night.

Leah picked up the knife and held its contours in her hand. Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb began to float muffled from the jukebox. She couldn't hide her quiet laugh, and couldn't help the weight of sadness that drifted down on her from somewhere far away. It was heavier than the weight of the knife as she dropped it into her coat pocket, knowing full well she may have just sent the Grim Reaper his invitation.

The song was halfway through before she remembered her sandwich. It had already grown cold and hard; but so had her stomach. Her appetite would be gone for some time. She stuffed a ten-dollar bill under her coffee cup and, gripping the thick blade in her jacket pocket, stood from her table. She couldn't see the waitress anywhere as she pushed open the glass doors and heard the tired bell ring above her.

He watched her slip into her car from a dark alley down the street.

She pretended she didn't see him.

****

Sitting in the business class departure lounge at JFK Airport, Leah found herself tapping her foot nervously. The meeting with Andrew hadn't gone how she'd wanted it too and now she knew that things between them were only going to play out one way.

With one -- or both of them -- dead.

Did she really expect he'd just turn up and then turn himself in? Leah thought as she picked up a copy of National Geographic that was lying on the seat next to her, she felt the familiar buzz of her cell phone ringing in her jacket pocket. Sliding it out of the confines of its semi-permanent home, Leah scowled as she saw the name Benedict flashing up.

"Even on another continent I can't seem to get away from you." She hissed. "What do you want boss?" Even over a crackling cell phone connection her dismissive tone would be clear for him to hear.

"Enough with the pleasantries Bennett," Benedict retorted. "I need you back in Manhattan -- our American colleagues need your unique...skills to resolve a small problem they have."

"Let me guess -- that prick Spencer has managed to screw something up again right?"

"I don't have the details -- however he's waiting for you at the Hilton in Manhattan. I suggest you get there as soon as you can." The line went dead a moment after Benedict has finished speaking. Leah sighed as she dropped the phone back into her jacket pocket. She approached the check in desk and gestured to the company representative sitting behind it.