Summary: After Six rescues Claire, there are no mission details to follow, no designated escape route, and no arranged extraction. However, Donald planned for the day Six would learn there is more to the Sierra Program than dangerous operations and battle scars.
Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, drink spiking, canon-type violence, flirting, murder, flashbacks.
W/C: 8.5k
Characters: Sierra Six, OFC, Claire Fitzroy, Lloyd Hansen, Donald Fitzroy.
Pairing: none. Platonic friendships.
A/N: first time writing for this fandom, please be kind. I know this is long but I didn't feel there was no good place to split it. I had to post before I lost the courage and decided I hated the whole thing.
Beta(s): @deanwinchesterswitch
Graphics: made by me on Canva.
Master Lists: Main // Other Fandoms
2021
The multiple yellow warning triangles that line the road should be redundant after the big, bold, capitalized lettering warning of RADIATION RISK. PRIVATE PROPERTY. DO NOT ENTER. TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT THEN PROSECUTED (if you survive). Yet Six continues to drive. He hopes the warnings are an attempt to keep people out because he has little in the way of choices. It’s either risk radiation poisoning or…well, he doesn’t know what other option they have at the moment.
The alarm sounds, pulling Carmen’s attention from her task of scrubbing the internet of any trace of the man who just trespassed on her land. The screen switches from the split view to track the vehicle as it crosses the property line. Shit.
Six wonders if Claire got the coordinates wrong. He’s been driving on an uneven dirt road for well over a mile, surrounded by nothing but trees to the right and chest-high grass to the left. He can’t blame the kid, Donald made her memorize coordinates and a random password during a stressful situation. He’d understand if she got confused or misheard him. But Six is not about to wake her to check the intel for the hundredth time.
The car isn’t speeding, so it’s not an emergency, but its occupant still shouldn’t be here. She rushes up the basement stairs, unclipping the safety button on the sheath holding the knife on her hip. The stairs lead directly into the sitting room, and she grabs the gun from under the couch, checking the magazine as she walks toward the front door. Before stepping outside, she plucks the baseball cap off the hook in the entryway. The car is on the horizon, a quarter mile out, and she tucks the gun into the back waistband of her jeans, making sure her oversized shirt covers it.
The sun is quickly descending, and Six doesn’t want to drive this uneven path in the dark. The dirt road finally gives way to gravel, and Six sees the house. A figure steps out onto the porch, watching his arrival. He didn’t see any cameras, but there must be surveillance because how else would they know he was coming?
Gravel crunches beneath the tire, kicking up a cloud of white dust as the car pulls to a stop a little too close to the porch steps.
The engine cuts off, and Carmen cautiously waits for the occupier to step out, wondering how he knows about this place. Fitz would have called if there was trouble because no one else knew of her existence here.
Six looks at the woman through the window. Her long brunette hair fans out from under a navy blue baseball cap, concealing most of the right side of her face. Suspicious in itself but not cause for concern. Yet.
The tall blond man, who she knows only as Six, steps out of the car and eyes her suspiciously before uttering, “Password: Portal to another world.”
Fuck. Her throat tightens, and her chest constricts, feeling heavy with pain. The spoken words mean one thing. But still, she asks, “Fitz is dead?”
Time zones and all that.