To anyone out there who is not from the United States, can I just say: Please come get me. I am scared and I don't want to be here. Frankly I haven't wanted to be here for the last four years, but this week has been so much worse than I thought it could get.
I'm sorry if this is upsetting to anyone. I process things through creative outlets.
It's just after 2:30 in the afternoon when the calls and the texts start coming in.
It's Natara's day off, and so far it's been spent catching up on errands and spending time with the boys. She finally managed to put Evan down for his nap just fifteen minutes earlier, and Blaise is in the backyard poking at things with a stick. She's enjoying the moment of calm. She's not expecting it to be broken by the news she gets.
Her sister is asking if she's heard. Her mother is asking if she's safe. Her colleagues are telling her to turn on the television. Her boss is asking her to come in.
Her first instinct is to call Mal. Though she knows his promotion to Lieutenant has largely taken him off of the front lines, she also knows that an event like this will demand all available hands on deck.
Her next instinct is to grab the boys and hold them close. She doesn't know what the day will bring, but she knows she doesn't want them to be as terrified as she feels right now.
She thinks about disobeying the order to report to work.
In the end, she runs next door to ask their neighbor if she'll watch the boys. Mrs. Tepper has done it a handful of times, when Neha wasn't in town and they couldn't get ahold of their usual babysitter. She's more than understanding, for which Natara is grateful. She hugs Blaise tightly, makes him promise to behave while she's gone. She wishes she could wake Evan up to tell him goodbye.
"Don't let them near the TV," she tells Mrs. Tepper as she grabs her bag and runs to her car. She shoots off a quick text to Mal, asking him to call or text when he can and telling him she loves him.
She doesn't bother taking the time to change her clothes. No one will care today if she shows up to work in jeans and a sweater.
It takes her 58 minutes to get to headquarters, far longer than the usual 23 minute drive. The scene that greets her when she walks in is absolute bedlam. People are calling orders out across the offices and halls. SWAT teams are gearing up and preparing to ride to the Capitol building. She pulls her hair up into a ponytail to keep it out of her face and makes a beeline to her boss's office.
There's a lot to process.
There is a mob outside the Capitol building.
There are armed rioters inside, endangering the safety of the government's top officials.
The Capitol is under lockdown.
DC Metro police are trying to get things under control. Officers from the surrounding areas have been called in to help.
Tear gas has been set off inside the building.
A woman was shot inside the building.
Bombs have been found at several locations.
The National Guard has been called in.
She has not heard from Mal.
Her orders are to stay at headquarters and help direct and command agents. Again, her initial reaction is to resist. She is a field agent. She is not a deputy director, not even a supervisor. She does best with her feet on the ground.
Her second, stronger reaction is to do as she's told. She has her sons to think about. They don't know what is going on. They won't understand if she… doesn't make it home that night. She doesn't know where Mal is, if he's safe, if he'll return home that night, either. She cannot go charging out into the field and put herself in danger.
So she stays put. She assists her boss in assessing where their agents are needed most. She helps give orders to other agents going out into the field. She briefly talks with agents in charge of gathering digital information about persons of interest and asks what she can do to assist them. She forces herself to stay in the moment, and gets so far into the zone that she isn't aware of time passing.
She hears news of other world leaders condemning the actions of the mob. She's told that many politicians in the country are speaking out against the violence inside the Capitol and demanding that the rioters leave. She notices which ones haven't denounced the violence.
Occasionally her thoughts turn to Mal. When she hears that more officers and federal agents are being called to the Capitol building, when she hears that some officers have been pepper sprayed by rioters, when she hears that multiple agencies have stormed the building in an attempt to drive the mob out, when she hears that the rioters are trying to regain access. When she hears that a Capitol police officer was assaulted by the mob and had to be transported to the hospital. Each time, she prays that he's safe, and that he'll be able to come home to her and their children.
They work late into the evening, far later than she typically stays at work. She manages to sneak away to a quiet corner shortly before the boys go to bed and calls the house. She tells them she loves them again, and promises to be there when they wake up.
By the time the bulk of the chaos has died down, it's well after the curfew has taken effect. They are told that 13 people have been arrested, with more to be expected in the coming days. Though there are still rioters in the streets, the Capitol is secure, and the police are working on clearing everyone out of the area.
Her boss tells her she can go home; she's done all she can for today, and there will be plenty to do tomorrow. She nods and turns to leave. A quick glance at her phone tells her she has no missed calls or texts.
Her stomach ties itself into knots. It's going on nearly 10 pm. Almost eight hours have passed since she texted Mal asking him to respond when he could. Fourteen hours since she last heard from him, when his partner picked him up to go to work. She should have heard from him by now.
She knows it won't do her any good to dwell on those thoughts so she quickly texts her sister and parents letting them know she's safe, shoves her phone deep into her purse, gets into her car, and heads for home. She has her FBI ID badge at the ready, just in case she gets stopped for being out after curfew, but no such thing happens. She navigates the streets on autopilot.
The house is dark except for the living room light when she gets home. She is exhausted down to the bone, though she was not actively in the fray. And yet, her mind is buzzing, wondering if she'll have to explain to her kids that their dad isn't coming back, wondering how the hell she'll get through that conversation.
She takes a moment outside the front door to brace herself. She has to be strong for her children' sakes. Then, she opens the door.
She is immediately grabbed into a familiar embrace, and her eyes prick with tears as she tries to get her arms free so she can throw them around Mal. His hold on her is nearly bone crushing, but the only thing she feels is overwhelming relief.
"Thank God," he's repeating over and over into her ear. "Thank God, thank God, thank God. You're safe. Oh my God, Nat. Thank God."
"Are you okay?" she asks him, feeling strangely detached. She pulls back to get a better look at him. He's disheveled and dirty and sweaty, and his face is peppered with scratches and cuts. She thinks he might have the beginnings of a deep bruise on his cheek. But he's very much alive and in front of her. "What happened? Where were you?" Mal crushes her against him again.
"I got home and Mrs. Tepper was here," he mumbles against her hair. "She said you had to leave around 3. God, Nat, I was so worried. I didn't know what to think."
"I didn't either," she says, winding her arms around him. "Why didn't you answer me? I texted asking if you were safe. When you didn't answer I thought…. Mal, I swear to God if you ever scare me like that again-"
"I lost my phone," he clarifies quickly. "They needed everyone on the scene, and I had to go. The rioters were getting out of hand again, pushing back against the police line and we had to force them back. They were hitting us and grabbing at us. I don't know where it went, it's probably broken by now anyway."
She realizes tears are streaming freely down her face, so she pulls him tighter against her. "I thought-," she gasps out. "I can't- I didn't know if- I couldn't-"
"I'm here. You're here. We're safe. We're fine. I'm fine."
She knows tomorrow they'll have to go back out and continue doing their jobs. She knows they'll have to talk with Blaise and Evan, and do their best to explain what happened today. She knows tomorrow could possibly be even worse. But for now, all she can do is hold Mal close.