"The waitress is… you're RedRover?" I asked incredulously. "Honey, how'd you—"

"God Auggie," Annie scoffed, cutting me off. "We're not still in our covers. Try, for a moment, to be the spy I thought I knew."

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"Dammit, Annie," I shouted, no longer able to contain my confusion at her snarky comments. "What does all this mean, huh? How are you hurting? What am I so blind to?" She didn't respond. Then again, none of these were the question that I was so burning to ask. "Why didn't you just go for the package?"

There…. It was out.

She didn't answer for the longest time. Then, she took in a deep, shaky breath.

"What would you have done?" she asked me quietly.

Wait, is she… crying?

Annie Walker never cried. Yet here she was, crying. Because of me—or at least because of something I said.

Annie Walker. Crying.

What would I have done? There wasn't a rational answer to that question; Annie never would've been in my situation in the first place.

But what if she had? I asked myself.

I didn't even have to think of it. Of course Annie would be more important than any mission. She was my mission: get Annie home. Always.

"I guess I already knew that," she whispered.

Wait, what? Can she read minds now? Did I say that out loud?

Then she cleared her throat.

"I won't make the same mistake again," she said stiffly.

Again, what?

"Look," Annie said, clearly putting her back to me. "I'll spare you the whole patriotic, doing-good-feels-good speech. I know you don't really give a crap about any of that, and to tell you the truth, neither do I right now. So how about this: we'll pay you double what you're making now."

"Triple," the waitress/hacker fired back.

"Done," Annie said. It sounded like they shook hands.

Never in my life had I felt as blind as I had on this trip with Annie. Everything was falling apart, and I had no idea how to stop it.

"…and anything else you might need," Annie was saying. "We have to get out of here."

"I'll be ready in five minutes," RedRover replied. Then she was gone, soon followed by the sound of drawers being opened and shut quickly.

"Annie—" I began, but she cut me off.

"Look, I get it, okay?" she snapped. "You don't have to explain it to me. You would've gone for the package and left me on the steps."

"What—" I sputtered.

"It's fine, Auggie," she sighed. "I get it. I shouldn't have expected anything else. But for what it's worth," she dropped her voice to barely a whisper, "I don't regret it. I could have a million re-dos, and I'd go to you every time."

I opened my mouth to tell her that I would go to her, too. Always to her, but RedRover chose that moment to reenter, and Annie's 'Super Spy' act was back up. Now she was Annie Walker, CIA; not Annie Walker, my suddenly vulnerable best friend.

"I'm ready."

"Great," Annie responded. In the span of three seconds, she was on the other side of the room. "Let's go."

There was a tangible stillness in the room.

"No regrets," Annie said softly. For a moment I was sure she was talking to me.

"No regrets," RedRover responded. Was it just me, or did I hear a slight smile in the shady hacker's voice? The door closed, then there was a hand on my arm, but it wasn't Annie's.

"This way," RedRover said softly to him. "You're with me now. Annie went ahead to make sure we're in the clear."

"Wait, Annie's out there… alone?"