Chapter 11: Radioactive Love
If the radiation monitor alarmed again, he was just going to walk out. This was his fifth time in the monitor and it had alarmed every time. The radiation technician was being frustratingly unhelpful in telling Lucas anything that would speed up the process. Good at his job, Lucas had to admit, but the tech was the only thing standing between him and Celia.
After her fall into the fuel pool, the world had descended on the fuel deck – radiation technicians, more security force, plant officials, engineers, operations. He had spoken with so many different people about what happened, only able to watch as Celia got out the pool, swarmed by radiation techs. She was the only person he wanted to see and she was taken away for decontamination before he could even get close.
His eyes dropped closed, lips pursing in a thin line of annoyed frustration as the now-familiar alarm bell sounded.
"The contamination is moving. So, that's a good sign…your right shoulder this time." The tech, Jonah, beckoned him out of the monitor back over towards the gale force wind from the ventilation fan.
"How much longer?" Lucas shouted over the roar of the air, knowing he ought to cut the tech a break; the kid was just trying to do his job, after all.
"It just takes time - the ventilation is dispersing the radon. Your count gets lower each time we measure." The tech looked at him as he stood, coiled tight with frustration. "The longer you stand in the ventilation, the better. Non-cotton fabrics attract radon. It's just a fact." Lucas huffed an annoyed breath, glancing out to the radiation-free boundary to where Celia was sitting, waiting to be taken away. He had to get to her before that happened. "We are already going to get a shit ton of attention from the regulators over this, and I am not about to let an MI-5 officer out of here when he reads off the charts for radon contamination." Lucas' eyes shot deadly bullets, his frustration morphing into tense anger as he stood in the forceful downdraft, hair plastered to his scalp.
"Here, I'll just give you my shirt. I'm done with this bloody radon." His fingers rose to the buttons on his dress shirt, popping them open to reveal the dark undershirt beneath. If he missed Celia because of this, he would find some way to shut Windark down himself.
"I can't guarantee you'll get your shirt back." Jonah held up a bag marked with purple and yellow contamination stickers, nodding his head in the direction of the portal monitor. "Let's see how you count out."
"You can keep it for all I care." Lucas crossed the small space and stepped up into the radiation monitor, inserting his arm into the groove, snugging up to the machine. The countdown started with the flashing light signal as the machine measured the superficial contamination on his clothes. He stared the flashing light down, silently daring it to alarm again and incur his wrath. 4…3…2…1…0. Count complete and the light stopped flashing, a soft chime ringing in his ears instead of the blaring alarm.
"Congratulations, Lucas. You're free to go." Jonah offered up a weak smile, sealing up the bag with the shirt.
"About bloody time." Lucas huffed as he stepped out of the portal, across the radiation boundary. If he never had to deal with radiation or nuclear anything ever again, it would be too soon.
He walked down the hallway to where Celia sat, her hair still wet and head hung low, hands bound in front of her. He couldn't detect a note of regret in her downtrodden shoulders, only sad resignation. An ache in his heart was starting to undercut his anger the more he looked at her. She was dressed in navy scrubs that hung loose and misshapen against her body after having gone through decontamination. He kneeled down silently beside her, dying to see her eyes that always told him so much.
"Is Jonah always that strict about his job?" He tried to keep his voice soft.
"Like he told you…it's his job to ensure all radiation stays behind the line." She could barely bring herself to look at him, but she felt his eyes heavy on her. He licked his lips, loosing a small sigh.
"I can understand breaking into the vault," he started softly, contemplatively, "all the classified security information; the one room that contained all the secrets about how to bring Windark down."
"Even with the drawings he wanted, I don't think that would have been enough to make control of the plant fall into the wrong hands. And that's even if we would have made it out of the plant without getting shot."
"We'll never know now, will we?" He idly speculated, his anger flaring back up inside him. She swallowed hard, exhaling a shaky breath. "Look at me, Celia." There was something heartbreaking in his voice that she couldn't ignore. She turned her head, lifting her gaze, tears glistening in her eyes the minute she met his.
"If you're going to ask me if I regret it, the answer is no. The bad guy was stopped without risking the life of the good guy. Can't say that happens every day."
Frustration tightened the lines of his face. "There would have been a way—several ways that we could have reached the end by a different means, without either one of us losing our lives. You should have trusted me." He shook his head, forcing a hard swallow. "I cannot help you now."
"I won't ask for it; I didn't yesterday and I won't now." The conviction in her voice was unnerving. "I knew the consequences for my actions and I accept them." She drew a trembling breath, biting her lip. "I told you that I would cut ties with this place, one day, for the right guy," she tried to summon an ironic smile, "though, I had always thought I would do it with just a letter." She sniffed, looking down at her bound hands, unable to stand the hurt in his eyes that looked like betrayal. "The only thing I was naïve enough to hope for was that I wouldn't lose you, too. Even though I was – if not saving your life, at least eliminating one less threat – I knew I probably wouldn't see you again." A small, sad smile of softened the thin line of his lips.
"I can't storm another nuclear plant for you." The note of finality on his voice sealed the fate she already knew was unavoidable. The first tear rolled down her cheek as she nodded her head, her face otherwise unchanged as she looked back to his eyes. His soulful, glacial eyes that she had come to love so much. He couldn't stop himself from lifting a hand to her cheek, sweeping at the trail of moisture with the pad of his thumb. She leaned into the touch, savoring it for the last time.
"I like to think I actually had a chance with you." She said softly, her words more a breath than sound. If he were not so tightly bound by duty, the look in her eyes would have her sobbing against his chest, sweet murmurs of lies that everything would be alright passing his lips.
"I abandoned hope for a chance at a normal life years ago, Celia…but you convinced me that it might just be possible. You won't be easy to forget." She nodded her head slowly, knowingly in silent agreement, committing the feel of his hand to memory.
"You, too. If I had anything to forgive you for, I would, but I don't. You have nothing but my goodwill and love…I think you may always have that."
"Celia Gordon." They both turned at the authoritative voice, her heart dropping to her stomach as Lucas' hand fell away. Two men, armed and decked in plant security force uniforms, had entered from the corridor west door to join the other who was currently keeping watch. "Time to go. There's a vehicle here and police escort to transfer you to Millbank prison, awaiting trial for charges of subversion and nuclear terrorism." She sighed nervously, casting one last glance back at Lucas before gathering herself to rise. He followed her up, distant concern written in the lines of his impassive face.
"Goodbye, Lucas. Thank you…for everything. I know how it sounds right now, but…you saved me from drinking that bottle of wine all by myself." His mind instantly flashed back to that first night—the wine, the questions, the exciting spark of possibility. An overwhelming sense of loss ached his chest as he watched her turn from him, stepping forward to willingly submit to her escorts.
"Celia…," he looked after her, his gaze reflecting the love he couldn't force himself to hate, "vanilla or chocolate?" A smile cracked the sad lines of her face, lifting her cheeks, brightening her eyes through the unshed tears.
"Vanilla." Her smile softened as she gazed back at him over her shoulder, the guard taking hold of her arm to guide her forward.
"Chocolate." He answered, a soft grin on his face. She turned back around, still smiling as a tear slid down her cheek. All he could do was watch as the men lead her forward down the stretch of corridor, through the double doors and out to the world beyond.
He looked around the now empty space, wondering if there was anything else that he needed to do. He should probably check back in with Haynes in Security before leaving the plant. But what about the drive to London? One and a half hours to himself to think on everything, on Celia. A longing ache spiked in his chest on thought.
He huffed an annoyed breath, shaking his head as if to banish his thoughts and the frustration that threatened to return to the surface. Hadn't he been through enough already? Hadn't he suffered enough pain and loss? Did Celia really have to be just another entry on the list?
Maybe not. She broke his trust, yes, but she was doing what she thought best – protecting him. But protecting him at the risk of sacrificing others? That was something he couldn't abide. It was dangerous to love someone with that much conviction. He doubted anyone else would ever love him with such devotion, and maybe that was alright. Wasn't it? Maybe not.
There was too much unknown. Too much had yet to happen. He would be swept up in the legal process of it all – reports and interviews. He hoped to God he wouldn't be called in to actually testify in a courtroom. It seemed so likely that they would find her guilty. But maybe not. She was a victim, yes, but she let herself fall victim without even putting up a fight.
Celia knew the workings of Windark when she agreed to the demands of breaking in, and probably viewed it as low risk given how capable the force had proved itself from defending within. She would certainly lose her nuclear clearance and any future chance of gaining a similar level of access. Maybe that would be a short enough leash. Maybe that would be enough of a punishment.
He started for the double doors, on his way back to the security station to pick up his coat and return his temporary bade.
Maybe, just maybe it would be enough.
Fin
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Thank you for reading! -MidnightB