Los Angeles, CA – October 2014
Henry watches the sky start to brighten as her building causes a shadow on the beach. He doesn't know how long he's been holding her sleeping body against him on her bedroom floor. But at some point, her tears stopped, her breathing slowed, and her exhaustion took over. He's held her as if it's appropriate as if he isn't married to another woman. And his heart is a mess. It's torn between two worlds, and he doesn't know where to go from here. But his children have to come first. Their safety, their happiness, is his main priority. And the thought that Elizabeth might be his second causes a pang of guilt so strong in him that he has to stop himself from physically shuddering. He looks down at his ring finger. The titanium band that he's worn for years feels so heavy on him. That's never happened before.
His phone rang three times. It's downstairs, but he refuses to move. Elizabeth is so peaceful in his arms. Her face is relaxed, and her body is slack. And he can't bring himself to disturb her. He knows his phone is probably ringing with questions from his wife. He's three hours behind her right now. And with the thought of Jess, his guilt wins out. So, he carefully moves Elizabeth off his lap. As he lifts her to her bed, her body jerks and she gasps.
"You're okay." He soothes. But her eyes are wild, and they search his face. Her face reads of confusion, as if he is the last person on earth she expected to see. She looks at him like a stranger.
"Hey," he says, his hand running along her jaw. "Everything is okay."
"Henry?" She finally focuses on his face. She has a look in her eye, a look he's not familiar with, "It's all real, isn't it?" Her voice is soft but not quiet. It's as if she's afraid that if she says the words too loud, they will be true.
"Yes." He nods. He watches as the pain reappears on her face. He wonders what it's like for her to have been through so much. How does someone function like this? But then she shakes her head. She sits up. He hears her shoulder pop as she uses her arm to push herself up. He winces a little, but she seems unalarmed.
"It does that all the time." She mumbles as if she read his mind. And he nods. His mind flashes back to a different time when he always had her six, and she didn't have to explain her pain. He observes her as she closes her eyes and retreats into her mind.
She lets her mind spin uncontrollably for a moment. Then takes a breath. She lets it out slowly. When she opens her eyes, her gaze is sharp. She is finding the determination she needs.
"What time is it?" She asks, her voice strong.
"Um, I think 5 am," He answers. And he watches as she nods and stands. Sleeping on the floor has done nothing for her body, and it aches. Her back pops loudly when she stands, her muscles pull tight, and her legs feel wobbly. He watches as she stretches so expertly, and he has more questions about her injuries. But those can wait. She rolls her neck, and then it's as if a switch flips.
"You gotta go home." She says, her voice full of authority. She stands with her back straight as she used to as if she's had a sudden confidence bestowed upon her. He wants to object. But he begrudgingly knows she's right. He does have to go home. He has to tell Jess what's going on. He has to get Stevie home from DC. He has to pack up his family and get the hell out of dodge so Elizabeth has the sense of security she needs to fight the good fight.
"Yeah." He agrees. He doesn't move because, though they seem to be on the same wavelength, he can't help but think there is something she's not saying. "Elizabeth, what are you going to do?"
She opens her mouth to answer but is cut off by his phone ringing downstairs once again. The sound is shrill, and he cringes at the noise.
"That's your cue." She says, motioning for him to go. She doesn't want him to answer his phone, but he has to. He rushes to his phone, not wanting to miss a fourth call.
"Hey, Honey." He says, faking a yawn so it sounds to her as if this call woke him.
"Henry, thank God." She sounds panicked. "Did you get my messages?"
"No, I'm sorry, I've been asleep. I haven't checked my phone since last night. What's going on?"
"I need you to come home... I can't explain right now. Please?" The tone of her voice makes Henry's stomach drop. He hears fear in her voice, and he's immediately worried.
"What happened?" He asks quickly, letting out a breath as if he had been punched in the diaphragm.
"It's... I'll tell you when you get home." Her voice is shaky. And Henry looks at his watch.
"I... I can be at LAX in an hour... Um... Okay? Yeah, I'll be there."
"I love you, Henry."
"Love you, too, Honey."
The call ends, and Henry runs his hand through his hair. Elizabeth stands in the shadows of the room and listens. She doesn't like the look on Henry's face. There is something about it that doesn't sit well with her.
"Everything okay?" She asks, her voice neutral. She doesn't want him to know that she heard their conversation. But the look on his face makes her nervous. He looks sick, and she doesn't like that.
"I... don't know." He looks up and meets her eyes. And at the same moment, they realize it's begun. Elizabeth gets her bearings, and her brain goes through a checklist of what needs to happen. It's as if, all at once, she's able to piecemeal a plan. She feels the weight of her grief and the fear, but she can't let that stop her. She can't. She won't. She thinks about her children and the man standing in front of her. She would do anything for them. She becomes more determined to tear Conrad Dalton apart piece by piece. And she is nothing if not single-minded in her determination.
She walks to her closet and grabs her emergency cash; once a spy, always a spy. She separates it into two piles of money, one for her and one for Henry. She looks at him, and for a moment, she wonders if he's prepared to do what she's going to ask of him. She knows Henry was a Marine, a fighter pilot. She knows Henry worked for the NSA. She knows he is not a stranger to espionage or the dark side of life.
"Here." She says, handing him the cash. "Don't use a card of any kind once you get your family. Get out of Pittsburgh. Take a gun. Don't take any current devices. No phones, no tablets. Nothing has ever been connected to the internet. Change the plates on your car. Ethically, I know you won't like this, but literally, take plates off of a random car in a parking lot and trade them with yours." She pauses to allow his brain to catch up and grabs him an in-the-box tracphone. "Once you get your family, call this number and let the phone ring three times. Then, hang up. Don't leave a voicemail. I will keep you updated through texts, okay?" She hands him one more thing: a book. "Page 302, line seven."
"A book code?" His brain is working hard to understand the words that are coming out of her mouth.
She nods and then repeats, "Page 302, line seven. For the texts." She studies him. She feels as if this whole thing got very real and very dire very suddenly. She can't completely wrap her head around the changes of the last twenty-four hours. She got to talk to Henry. She got to see a photo of her kids. She lost George. She got her good cry. She got some sleep. And now, her determination is fueled by her anger. Her anger at Conrad and his threats. Her anger at him for making her feel powerless. The amount of time it took to change the trajectory of her path has her feeling dizzy. It's as if, one minute, she was walking in one direction, and the next, the path beneath her feet changed, and she is going another way entirely. But that's happened to her before. She knows life is made up of moments. Some are good, and some are not. And the way forward is sometimes clear, and other times, not. She's not sure how she ended up on the path she's currently on, but she's going to see it through.
Henry opens his mouth, and no words come out. So he closes it again. HE runs his mind through his part of the assignment. Keep his family safe. And that's all. Keep them safe. His thoughts turn to the kids. "Where do I take them?" He asks her helplessly as if his mind can't catch up. His eyes are wide, and he looks terrified.
"That's up to you; I think it's safer if I don't know, actually. I can't give up intel I don't have." She says. He looks at her. They both know what she's dancing around. If they get to her, if they torture her, if they get her high, they'll break her. She's scared that she won't be strong enough to stay quiet.
"Okay." He breathes. His mind goes into a different gear. He looks at her as if it could be the last time he ever does. He wants to commit every detail of her to his memory. He looks at her face and tries not to think about all the pain she's suffered. He looks at her lips, and he has the desire to kiss her, to show her his love. And then, "I love you." He whispers. He doesn't mean to say it. He's not even sure he did until the words hang between them. She blinks at him. She doesn't reply. She doesn't say anything. She lets the moment be. She wants to tell him. She does. She wants him to know. But the time doesn't feel right. Instead, she smiles at him, and she tries her best not to look sad.
His hands cup her face, and his lips land on her forehead. There is something so powerful about the moment, so intense, that they both feel a little unsteady on their feet. But the kiss is brief. He pulls back and looks at her.
"Take care of yourself." She whispers, "And be safe. And get going." She smiles a small, encouraging smile.
He nods. "I'm going." He finally lets her go. He has a job to do, and he's got a plane to catch. And he's got a wife to convince an impossible story. But the kiss lingers on his lips, and his head is cloudy, and he's not sure if he can think straight. "Just... Don't die on me. Okay?" He looks at her. He wants her promise. And he's not sure he can make it without hearing the words from her.
"You too," She says, her eyes locking with his. They hold each other's gaze for a moment, neither wanting to part, but both knowing the importance of doing just that.
"I'm not saying goodbye." He says. He couldn't say goodbye to her, which was the most painful thing he had ever done. And he couldn't do it again. He doesn't know what's going to happen next, but he's certain he will never have the strength to walk away from her again. He will never be able to leave her behind.
"Then, it's a see you later." She offers, not letting her heart hurt.
"See you later." He repeats. He looks at her one last time, and then he turns on his heel and walks away.
She turns to the windows. And the sun is fully risen now. And she's standing alone in her loft. She sighs and grabs her computer. It's time to get to work.
Washington, DC – October 2014
Andrew Munsey sits in his office and watches his screen. He can't stop watching the surveillance. He needs to know who Bess is now. He watches the security footage of the 777 tower. She's a prompt employee. He's noticed she is always walking in the door at the same time every day. In fact, she's committed the mortal sin of a trained spy. She has a routine. A predictable routine. And a predictable destination. It is the same gym, the same grocery store, and what he assumes is a therapy appointment. He's almost disappointed. Bess used to be great. Now, she's boring and predictable. It's sad. It truly is a waste of talent.
Unlike Jessie, Andrew knows Elizabeth never did what Conrad accused her of. And he doesn't believe, even now, that she is a traitor. He's known her for years. She has her flaws, but he believes she is a loyal operative. Elizabeth truly is a good person, and he has mixed feelings about killing her. It will be necessary, though. If she had turned and told Henry where she was, the whole game would have been up. He wants her to cooperate and stay dead. She's already been dead once, and she can easily disappear again. But he has Jessie to consider. He loved her once, and he still cares for her deeply. He would kill Bess in order to preserve Jessie's happiness.
"Alright, Bess. Time to play." He says.
