The Capitol Building, Henry, 2014
I watch her intently on the screen. She is telling their story, in her words. The story of murdered and maimed civilians. She sounds strong, her voice never wavering, never pausing. She oozes of compassion and humanity. She slowly articulates every crime committed by the President that she knows of. She tells them the details of exactly how she knows about them. She is completely competent, and truly trustworthy.
But then it comes, the big question. The question that's about her, and her story. The normal everyday American citizen would not notice the flash of fear that crosses her face, but I do. I notice as she allows herself one tiny fidget of the ring that she no longer wears. The ring that reminds her of the home that she has in me. I press my own hand onto my chest, willing God to send her the strength to keep going. She takes a sip of water, the first one since she started, takes a deep breath. And then, she starts again, just as strong, just as confident. She doesn't back away from the R Rated details of the IED explosion, or the horrors of experiencing it. She explains her injuries in gruesome detail.
I move from watching Elizabeth to watching Stevie. I sent the kids away to eat some lunch while Elizabeth testified. But Stevie wouldn't go. She gave me the look that Elizabeth always did when she was resolute in her decision. But, now as I watch the shock on my little girls face, I wish I wouldn't have backed down. I wish I would've protected her more. I see her fists clench, as Elizabeth recounts waking up in the trunk of a car. Tears fill her eyes and she grabs her wrist with the opposite hand when she hears her mom tell the world of her almost disabling injury.
"It's okay little one." I move to put my arm around my little girl, and for a minute she's so small and fragile. Just as she was, that time she fell out of the tree.
The Capitol Building, Elizabeth, 2014
I try not to think about the TV cameras surrounding me. I don't want to think about people huddled around TVs as I am the subject of the breaking news that interrupted their normally scheduled program. I try paying no attention to the reporter behind me who must be live tweeting this. Seriously, who can type on their phone that fast? But I can't quite ignore the pain that starts at my wrist and radiates into my shoulder, one of the everlasting physical effects from my time in Iraq. But, it's all going smoothly, and right now I'm grateful that my voice isn't shaking as I tell the world about my first night in the room.
But then, a universal gasp and all of the cameras turn and flash at once. I catch the surprised look on the committee chairman's face and I know. I slowly turn to meet eyes with Conrad Dalton for the first time in nearly ten years. His face bears a small smirk, reserved just for me, one that tells me he is here to win.
"Please go on everyone." He puts on his best political smile. As he makes a show of sitting in the hearing room. In the very last row of seats. I turn my attention back to the chairman who, is quietly chatting in a small huddle with the others on the committee. They are trying to decide how to proceed from here. They must come to a decision, as they all return to their seats.
"Agent McCord, are you okay to proceed?" The chairman's voice is softer than is has been for the last hour and half we've been in this hearing room. I almost admire his compassion.
"Yes." I find myself nodding and reaching for the glass of water again, taking a small sip. I will not let myself be intimidated by that man anymore. Even if the pain is now throbbing up my arm and into my head, my body screaming for my brain to recognize the danger. Even if my voice shook slightly. Even if the TV cameras captured my fear of the President. And I go on, this time trying not to notice the way that every congressperson on the committee glances to the back of the room, evaluating Conrad's reactions. I go on, one word at a time, pulling my strength from somewhere in the universe.
The Capitol Building, Russell, 2014
I'm pacing the hall right outside of the hearing room. Waiting for the contingency plan. Waiting for the guy, who I know will have absolute proof that everything Elizabeth McCord has said today is the absolute truth.
And finally, I hear it. The fast carefree sauntered steps mixed with the four paws that hit the ground in time with his master.
"Did you have to bring Gordon?" I ask Mike Barrnow as he comes into my view.
"Yes." He says as he passes his leash over to some staffer, who he clearly does not know. "Watch him for me, protect him with your life." I shake my head, never understanding the bond that man has with his fucking dog.
"Let's save the world, shall we." He rises up a blank file folder, clearly filled to the brim with all of the proof we need. Another thing I don't understand, everything is always a joke to him.
We enter the hearing room quietly, not drawing attention, not yet. She is continuing to roughly detail the year she spent with Samuel Rodriguez. We need her to finish. Once she is done, Conrad will make his move. He will call her a liar and turn on the charm. He will fall back on making the American public fall in love with him. But I will cut his grandstanding short, as I produce proof of McCord's story. This will be finished, and the good guys are going to win, they have to win this one.