Gertrude "Trudie" Ellis had been a member of the S.A.B. (Special Activities Branch) since she was nine years old. There was little wonder that she was their top operative. In fact, there had been a lot of speculation over the years that she would soon move on to O.W.C.A.: the Organisation Without a Cool Acronym. That was what seemed to happen to most of the S.A.B.'s top operatives; they moved on to O.W.C.A., a fact that Trudie found rather annoying. Her two best trainees had done exactly that, leaving her reluctant to take on any more trainees, lest they left her as well.

But there WERE a few trainees who either didn't leave or left but didn't join O.W.C.A. either. The latter was just as bad in Trudie's eyes; if someone went through the four-year training period to become an S.A.B. officer, why would they just leave to pursue another career?

Although…one of Trudie's favourite trainees HAD left the S.A.B., but she had used the training she had received there in order to further her career as a lawyer. Trudie HAD been proud of that trainee.

After all, the S.A.B. didn't just train recruits to fight and be spies. They also trained the recruits to be detectives. Most of the trainees described the S.A.B. as "halfway between O.W.C.A. and the police force", which was exactly how Trudie herself would describe it. They gained valuable fighting experience, but at the same time, recruits were taught to hone their mind and become a great detective.

Like Trudie.

As she stood backstage, she couldn't help feeling a small pang of annoyance that so much trouble had been gone to in order to arrange this. This whole ceremony was JUST for her. This year was her twenty-fifth year of being an S.A.B. officer. This had never been achieved before, as most agents either died or moved on before they even hit TWENTY years. As such, the leader of the S.A.B. had had a special medal forged and a ceremony created JUST for this occasion. As an introvert, Trudie disliked so much trouble JUST for her. She hated being the centre of attention. She knew she would hate being onstage, with over four thousand people watching her accept a piece of metal that didn't really mean anything.

"Hey, Trudie! How you feeling?"

Trudie glanced up, eyebrow raised, at her former protégé as he entered the room.

"Sick," she muttered back. "I want to leave."

"Trudie, this is all for you," protested Bjørn Larsen. He took a risk and placed his hand on his mentor's shoulder. "I know you don't like it, but it is."

"How did you even get in here?" Trudie snapped. "And why?"

Bjørn frowned. "First of all, ouch. Second of all, I came because you're still my mentor."

"I WAS," Trudie corrected angrily. "You made it perfectly clear that you don't care about me anymore."

"Look, Trudie, we both said things we didn't mean, okay!" Bjørn snapped. "One of those things being I don't care for you anymore. Of COURSE I care about you, Trudie. You were my mentor for years. I wouldn't be the agent I am today without you."

Trudie shut her mouth and glowered.

Bjørn rolled his eyes. "THIS is why you have no friends."

Trudie ignored that comment because she knew it was true.

After a moment's hesitation, Bjørn removed his hand from her shoulder. "I'm sorry. Trudie, I'm really sorry for everything I said. I wish I could take it all back."

Trudie didn't reply for a while. Then she said, "You reminded me of my father."

Bjørn blinked. "What?"

But before he could ask what she meant, the leader of the S.A.B. called her name. Giving Bjørn a rare smile, Trudie headed up onto the platform.

Immediately, the bright lights almost blinded her. Blinking furiously against the glare, she focused on making her way to Mallory Curtis, the S.A.B.'s current leader, who took over several years ago. The wheelchair-bound woman smiled as Trudie approached her.

"Congratulations, Trudie Ellis," she said.

Her heart pounding in her chest, Trudie stood to attention.

"You have completed twenty-five years in the S.A.B., an unprecedented feat. Therefore, we have gathered here today to bestow upon you a medal of commendation."

Mallory received a small box from another agent, who had rushed on to give it to her. She beckoned to Trudie, who awkwardly approached her and knelt down in front of the wheelchair.

Smiling, Mallory pinned the medal to Trudie's lapel. As Trudie stood up straight, Mallory saluted her. Trudie saluted back, feeling as if she would melt under the lights and the stares of the four thousand agents watching her.

Then they started applauding.

As Trudie stood at the front of the stage, she forced herself to look at the very back of the hall. She couldn't see any individual faces in the audience, which relieved her slightly. But not by much; EVERYBODY in the entire S.A.B. knew who she was now.

She hated it.

But she forced herself to stand still, hands behind her back, puffing her chest out to display the medal, while everyone continued to applaud her.

It was torture to her. Her pulse was quickening, she was beginning to sweat, her legs were turning wobbly, her heart was still pounding. At one point, she was scared that she was about to faint. Thankfully, after what seemed like hours, Mallory dismissed the auditorium.

Trying not to appear too eager, Trudie hurried off the stage and almost collapsed once she was out of sight. Bjørn hurried up to her and supported her as her legs buckled. "Whoa, Trudie! Are you okay? Do you need a medic?"

"NO!" Trudie snapped quickly. "Just sit me down."

Bjørn obediently drew up a chair, which Trudie dropped down in, closed her eyes, and covered her forehead. Bjørn stood still, observing his mentor. Her body was trembling, her skin was glistening with sweat, her chest was heaving. Bjørn hadn't seen his mentor in several years, but he knew this wasn't normal.

"You have anxiety."

It wasn't a question, but Trudie still felt the need to clarify, "I have a special type of panic disorder that is brought on by being looked at by or amongst too many people."

"In other words, you have a cross between anxiety and claustrophobia."

Trudie hesitated. "I guess so."

After a brief pause, Bjørn drew up another chair and sat down next to his mentor. "Does anyone else know?"

"No, and it's going to stay that way," Trudie snapped at him. "Got it?"

Bjørn sighed and got up. So much for getting her to open up, he thought.

At that moment, they heard the door to the room open. Bjørn automatically glanced up, then his eyes widened and he turned to Trudie, who also looked up. She prepared to snap at whoever came through the door, but the sight of the person standing there was so shocking that she could only manage to gasp one thing.

"P-PERRY?!"