Audrey Lynne
You've always been the life of every party we go to, partner. I see the way the whole room lights up when you walk in. Word spreads that you've arrived, and everyone finds a way to say hello. It doesn't matter who throws the party, or what it's for, you manage to bring something special to it, even if you don't want to be there. I can admire that in a person.
We certainly can't forget about the women! I have to admit that there were times I wonder if you're really interested or just enjoying the attention your dark good looks got you. Maybe the women like your job description. Maybe there's just something about a man in uniform, never mind that we don't wear uniforms. Let me in on your secret sometime, okay? I mean, I know I'm not exactly bottom of the barrel in the looks department, but I've never heard anyone describe me as "adorable". Okay, so I'd probably hate it if anyone described me as adorable. Still, my social life could never rival yours, not even in my wildest dreams. You've got brains to match that beauty, too, and it does wonders for you. You can easily flaunt your intelligence without looking like an egghead, and it makes you a chick magnet. Better that it's you and not me, I suppose. One broken marriage per lifetime is enough for me.
Let's have a word about those looks of yours, shall we? I know, you're probably thinking I'm going to bitch about your hair in the shower drain again. Well, no, I'm not. I know that'll get me nowhere. Why do you think I bought one of those cover traps? But the hair is part of the issue. You spend HOURS preening, literally. My ex-wife didn't spend as much time on her hair as you do. I know you like to look your best, especially for the ladies, but give it a rest already. You're good looking enough without all your special gels so your hair can be just so. Besides, I smell them on you for hours afterwards. Can't you buy something non-scented? You know, until we decided to share a place, I never realized how vain you really are. I always kind of figured it went with the looks, but let's be realistic. You can't walk into a room without looking at your reflection in something.
I bet you think that this letter is about you. Well, it's not. It's about me, dammit. For once. I think you've forgotten about the whole partnership sometimes. I mean, yes, I'm glad to help you when you need it, but come on! I hate feeling like I'm always being studied; I hate having to worry about how what I decide to do when you're not around will affect you. You came into my life, and I'm glad you did. I have actually treasured our friendship. I still do. It's about friendship, though, not partnership. God, this is hard to say (write, whatever). I don't think we should be partners any more. Don't get me wrong. I still want to be friends. (Why does this sound like a 'Dear John' letter? We're not a couple... much as I'm sure our co-workers have speculated otherwise). I can't even pretend to understand the enigma that you are. I've come to understand that we have vastly different interests. I don't like 'the show'... you're the one into flamboyancy. Hell, remember our time in Peru together? (Of course you do. You're always talking about it.) I just wanted to get the hell out. You would have been content to stay forever. I was a loner before we met, and in many respects, I still am. You, however, have never had a problem making or keeping friends. And friends can be different. I understand that.
I just think that partners should maybe have some common ground. In our line of work, a partner is nice, but not necessary. Backup can come in many forms.
We even have different agendas! I mean, I just want to go in and get the job done. End of story. My training is probably why I like the anonymity. You leave your fingerprints all over everything you touch, and -- hell, you WANT them to know it was you! There's nothing wrong with that, but it would be nice to work all the time with someone who agreed with me, at least sometimes.
Let's face facts. I like you, but you're driving me nuts.
I talked to Jack, and he told me all about you. I know that you're planning to eventually be someone big, and how the hell do I fit into that? Tell me, please. Millions of dollars and worldwide recognition would be a dream for you, but you know me. I told you at the beginning, I do NOT want the whole world to know who I am! So how do we handle this? Please; I'd love to know. I want you to be who you want to be, but I'm not changing who I am.
I noticed you're packing some of your things (hey, you're not the only trained observer). Are you leaving? Were you planning on telling me? Or will you be gone next week, leaving me to wonder where the hell my partner has gotten off to? I understand that you hate staying in one place too long. If you want to leave, that's fine with -- aw, hell, I'm gonna miss you. Couldn't you at least give me some notice? Or is this just you wanting to move some things into storage? Can you see why it drives me crazy not knowing what you're up to? I know, right now, you're chuckling to yourself and muttering about what a control freak I am. We all have our own issues. Only my issues and yours don't seem to go very well together.
You've got a hell of a lot of charm, kid. I've seen you use it. The looks, the charm -- you could probably get away with murder. See, me... I get what I want through fear. People are afraid of me, whether I want them to be or not. They're enchanted by you. Even our boss likes you, and he doesn't like much of anyone.
Now you're probably thinking that I'm going to tell you what to change and how to change it. No, I'm not. Oddly enough, I like you just the way you are. As a friend. We're coming back to this partner issue... I'm too much of a coward to say this to your face. I'm going to leave this letter in your office. You're going to come home in a fit over it. We're probably going to have a fight, with you going to sulk in your bedroom. I don't know how long this fight will last. I don't know if our friendship can survive the termination of our partnership. I hope to hell it can.
Out of an intense personal curiosity (while you're still speaking to me), what's with all the research on lethal viruses and security measures you've been doing lately? Something in mind? Thinking about an old case of ours? I'll never forget that one. Or... well, we've had a few hairy ones, haven't we? I don't regret our time together; I just think it's gone on long enough.
I'm doing this for your own good. I'm cutting you loose, so you can BE that someone you wanted to be. Write a book about your adventures (you WILL change my name, right?). Have fun. Maybe you'll even get a mention in that new book Jack's working on. I hope my name stays out of it, but that's just me. Then again, I might be in his old one for all I know. Haven't read it yet. Maybe when it comes out on tape. I'll play it in the car, while you're bitching about how I drive. It's not that bad, really. (My driving, I mean. Wouldn't know about the book. I have a copy, somewhere, though.)
They say it's all part of a show for the public, this work we do. I think the public hasn't got the first clue. If only they knew.
Of course, if they knew, they'd probably become a cynic like me. It's hard not to be one after so many years viewing the underbelly of humanity, working under the cloak of darkness because so-and-so says that no one should know what we're up to.
Whatever happens, take care of yourself. Try not to piss too many people off on your way to the top. Hopefully, I'll be able to see you on the news one night, turn to the guy next to me at the sports bar, and say, "I know him. That's my old partner."
I have no doubt that you will find your fame through whatever means necessary. It's the only thing I am sure of sometimes. It's like you've always told me... one day, the whole world will know the name of Lee Brackett.
Just try not to do anything TOO terribly damaging to national security, okay?
--Mike
P.S. This message will self-destruct in 5 seconds. (Just kidding. Sorry, more of that CIA humor you hate.)
P.P.S. That anthro student's paper you were looking for, the one on tribal guardians? It's in my desk, top left-hand drawer. I'm not sure what you want with it, but it's there.
The End
Notes: Got this idea when listening to Carly Simon's "You're So Vain"... it was the "You're with some underworld spy..." bit that really got me to thinking. Why, I don't know. I stopped arguing with the muse. I wrote this to appease her. Now maybe she'll chill long enough for me to get through all my lectures tomorrow without being sidetracked by her! It makes my friend Amy happy, since she wanted some Brackett fic. Granted, she was talking about Emergency!, but... hey, when the muse speaks, I listen. This was also another excuse for me to watch Rogue again ("Oh, not the bad milk, Jim!"), and admit that Brackett IS damn good looking, despite his bad-guyness.
You didn't really think Jim would let Blair go that easy, did you?:-)
You're So Vain
Carly Simon
You walked into the party
Like you were walking onto a yacht
Your hat strategically dipped below one eye
Your scarf, it was apricot
You had one eye in the mirror
As you watched yourself gavotte
And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner
They'd be your partner, and
You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain
I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? Don't you?
You had me several years ago
When I was still quite naive
Well, you said that we made such a pretty pair
And that you would never leave
But you gave away the things you loved
And one of them was me
I had some dreams they were clouds in my coffee
Clouds in my coffee, and
You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain
I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? Don't you?
Well, I hear you went up to Saratoga
And your horse naturally won
Then you flew your Lear jet up to Nova Scotia
To see the total eclipse of the sun
Well, you're where you should be all the time
And when you're not, you're with
Some underworld spy or the wife of a close friend
Wife of a close friend, and
You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain
I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? Don't you?