Author's Note: Will's turn.
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Room 52 of the Shady Daze motel. I feel like I'm in the middle of a bad episode of the X-Files. But this is life, this is real. This is my life, anyway. Sometimes it doesn't feel real at all.
I pick up the cell phone lying on the bed for the fifth time in six minutes. I check for missed calls. I check the battery. I make sure it's set to ring. It doesn't ring. I continue pacing.
One time the paper published a report on this study where they found that the pitch used for ring tones is the same level as squealing tires. Which is probably why I jerk to a stop and almost trip over the bed when the cell phone finally does ring. Damn Nokia. My hand is shaking when I pick it up. Syd's number flashes on the screen. Thank God.
"Hi, Syd?" At the other end, she lets out her breath so quickly that I hear a loud sigh. It didn't hit me she would be as worried about us as I have been about her.
"Will, where are you?" I glance over the tiny room, which is painted a lovely shade of avocado green.
"At a very sketchy motel a couple hours west of there. Syd, what's going on?"
Her voice sounds distant for a minute, like she's turned away from the phone.
"I'll be there in just a minute…Will and Francie…I will...thank you." She turns back to the phone. "Is Francie with you?"
"No, she's –"
"No?" Her tone tells me I'm about to face the wrath of Sydney. Not a good thing. I continue before she has the chance to.
"She's okay, I just talked to her like, ten minutes ago." I hear another loud sigh.
"Where is she?"
"In her car, on her way here. She left L.A. not long after I did."
"What happened?"
I shake my head, but realize that probably doesn't communicate much over the phone. "I don't know; it was kind of weird. As soon as I hung up with you, I called her at the restaurant. I just told her she needed to come back to the apartment, quick, that we had to get out of town and that I would explain everything when she got here. She didn't want to come at first, she sounded kind of panicked. For a minute I thought – " My voice stops working on me. Eight months, and I still have a hard time saying it out loud. "– that maybe she thought – "
But I'm talking to the one person who understands.
"Will, I'm sorry."
"No, no it's okay. She's okay, I mean." My voice is back. "I told her not to go anywhere, I was coming to get her, but then she called back like, two minutes later, all calm, and told me it was ok, she was leaving straight from there and she would meet me wherever I asked her. So I told her what highway to take and that I would call her when I found a place to stay. I checked in with her just a few minutes ago. She'll be here soon. Syd?"
"Yes?"
"What the hell is going on?"
She pauses for a moment, like she's not sure what to tell me. I wonder if that's because she can't tell me. I hate the CIA.
"It's over." She says it in one breath out, like her voice is about to crack.
"What's over? Are you sure you're ok?"
Her voice does crack a little as she answers.
"Yeah, I'm great. It's over. SD-6, Will, it's gone. And the whole alliance – we raided the office an hour ago. All the offices. There were teams all over the world, we have all the reports in – it's over."
I sit down on the bed. Hard. I'm hearing things. This is what the CIA does to you. I'm hearing voices.
But it's the voice I don't hear that reassures me. Sydney is still on the other end of the line, but she's stopped speaking, and I hear the soft, unmistakable sounds of a woman in tears. She's serious. She's really serious. They're gone. It's over. They're gone. It's over. The words repeat in my head, like a song I just can't get rid of. Like hearing them enough I can make it real. About a minute goes by before I can finally speak.
"Are you serious? I mean, they're gone, just like that?"
Her voice is almost a whisper. "Yeah, just like that. Pretty unbelievable, huh?"
"Yeah, unbelievable." My voice is flat, and I'm numb. Gone. Over. Unbelievable. "So, this – you're – we're done then, we're free?" I'm asking, but I'm still not sure I comprehend what those words mean.
"Yeah, I think we are."
"Wow, I don't know what to – just, wow." There's silence on both ends for a minute, like we're both just trying to make sure this is for real.
"Look, Will, I've to go, there's a debrief – "
I snap back to reality. "Yeah, yeah, definitely, go ahead. Call me back when you can."
"I will."
"Hey, and Syd? Thank you. For everything. Thank you." For a minute, I think she's going to start crying again.
"You're welcome. And call me when Francie gets there. I want to make sure she's okay."
"Okay." The phone beeps and goes silent.
Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. I'm frozen in place, trying to make myself believe what I just heard. SD-6 is gone. I've dreamed about hearing those words, not for as long or as often as Sydney has, but I've dreamed them. Everything I've given up. Everything that's happened. And it's gone. It worked. It really happened. They're gone.
I couldn't tell you how much time passes before there's a knock on the door, and I jerk back to reality so quickly I almost fall off the bed.
I cross to the peach-colored door and squint through the tiny peephole. I gasp in relief myself when I see who's outside. I slide back the chain and jerk open the door. She doesn't have time to respond, or speak, or even step inside before I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her hair.
"Francie, I'm just so glad you're okay."