AN: This chapter went through so many iterations, but I am finally happy with how it turned out.
Chapter 30: Powder Keg
Hour 9:
Morgantown, West Virginia
(But we should probably get moving again)
It's heavy and messy, and we're both breathing hard. I make one of the hardest decisions of my life up to this point and break the kiss. "To be continued," I whisper, locking eyes with Alex before climbing back into the driver's seat.
The officer is walking back up to my window and looks pissed. It's time to go. I move the car forward maybe five feet. I hear the officer yelling at me to stop. When he's almost caught up I do it again.
"Alex, take out a gun," I hiss, "I'm going to whip this car around and you're going to shoot the radio out of his hand. Nothing lethal, just some broken plastic," I promise. "I'll turn around and slow down for you."
Alex starts nodding. "You don't need to slow down," he says simply and my brain fills up with static. I watch as he slips the guns out from under his shirt where I'd hidden them before I kissed him. There's definitely a joke about loaded guns to be made here but I'm a little busy at the moment.
"Brace yourself," I warn Alex. I step on the gas pedal and the car flies forward leaving the officer in the dust after I had drawn him as far away from his car as I could. I make a tight U-Turn and all of a sudden Alex is face-to-face with the cop. "Now!" I shout.
Alex is leaning out of the window when he draws his gun and fires once. The gun is shockingly loud and I hear him swear as it goes off. My ears are ringing but I resist the urge to look over and keep my eyes on the road. I hear a second gunshot and then a third, followed by the sound of glass exploding.
"What was that, Alex? Did he just hit us?" I ask as I gun it out of the parking lot, not looking back.
"I hit his radiocomm in one shot, but I still had an angle. I used a second shot to shoot out one of his tires and a third to shatter his windshield," Alex says cooly, "Harder for him to catch up to us." I almost choke on how hot that is.
"Great," I clear my throat, "Good thinking." My voice is strained.
I take a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to slow my heart rate down from one thousand, but it doesn't help.
"What's the plan right now?" Alex asks.
"Where'd you learn to shoot like that?" I ask at the same time. "Uh, you first. Yours is more important," I decide. Another deep breath. "Short answer is we need to cross the border into Pennsylvania right now. How far away would you say we are?"
"So I have to sit here and look pretty, I have to navigate with a paper map, and I also have to shoot bad guys?" he smirks, "You're not a damsel in distress. Start mapping, Ells."
Despite the situation, I laugh into my fist, gently biting the knuckle of my index finger. "Learn to drive, Mr. Left Side of the Road, and then I shall map." I glance over at him, and he is indeed unfolding the map.
"Looks like we're just under 10 miles away. You want the fastest route across the border?" I nod vigorously. "Turn right in like 15 seconds." I speed up and veer the car right at the last possible second. "You did not need to cut it that close!" Alex exclaimed.
"John Cornell School of Driving Like a Lunatic," I reply, "Someone has to be following us, and it's time to be a lot more annoying about it."
Alex shakes his head. "Just follow the road and we'll be in Pennsylvania soon."
"Is there anybody following us?" Alex turns around and I take my eyes off the road for a second to check too.
"Don't think so."
"Good. We're crossing this border then we're ditching this car as soon as we can," I slow down to just four over the speed limit, "Do we think it's better to slow down and plan our next moves carefully or to just gun it up to Maine tonight? We'll have to take shifts, probably, and I might need to start guzzling coffee like yesterday," I trail off.
"You're actually asking me?"
"Yeah, I want to know what you think. You're also in this car."
Alex smiles. "Well, I think our first order of business once we cross the border is to switch out the license plates on this car."
"I agree. Is there a truck stop or something nearby? There won't be too many people around, and I feel like truckers won't ask us too many questions."
"Actually, there is," Alex says, flipping through the pages of the map. "It's in Pennsylvania, maybe 20 minutes from here. It's called Mt Morris."
"Alex, you're a genius."
Unfortunately, we have to cut through Morgantown proper. I feel uncomfortably exposed and I make a silent vow to stay away from any and all cities until we get to Bar Harbor. It'll likely add multiple hours onto our journey, but I feel safer tucked away in the mountains and the country roads.
I bark at Alex to both direct us and watch our back at the same time. I'm being a bitch, but my stress levels are at an 11 right now and I don't care. I take each turn at the last possible second and keep steady at three or four above the speed limit.
Not five minutes into the drive I hear sirens and they send a shockwave through my entire system. "Hey Alex," I ask, my voice shaky, "Might that be a car behind us?"
"Why yes it is," he responds, facing the back of the car.
"Talk to me," I raise my voice an octave, "Is there anyone between us? How far away is the car? Just keep fucking talking to me, Alex," I'm nearly shouting now.
Alex leans over and kisses my right cheekbone. "Hey. Calm down, Ells. You keep driving and let me handle our little friend." That in fact does not calm me down, and I swerve the car as his lips make contact with my skin. "Pull it together," his voice is steady, "Just listen to my voice and keep driving. Turn right up here," he directs. I see a river to my left: The Monongahela, a sign tells me. "Focus on the river, Ellie. Follow it for about 5 miles and you'll come across a bridge. Cross it. After that bridge, keep left, and stay on route 19. Then, you're going to follow that road all the way to Pennsylvania. You got it?" I nod rapidly. "Repeat that back to me," his voice remains so steady that it's somehow calming my nerves.
"Focus on the river 'til I get to a bridge. Keep left. Stay on US-19. Follow to Pennsylvania." I clench the steering wheel and take a deep breath, my eyes locked onto the Monongahela.
He pats my hair. "Good. You're doing great. Don't think about anything except for the river, the bridge, US-19, and Pennsylvania," he says slowly, "I'll handle the rest."
I repeat his words in my head. River. Bridge. US-19. Pennsylvania. I feel like I'm on some high-stakes episode of Dora the Explorer. I wish a conniving orange fox was the biggest of my worries. River. Bridge. US-19. Pennsylvania. River. Bridge. US-19. Pennsylvania.
Interlude #3
Morgantown, West Virginia
(And Getting The Hell Out)
Alex, meanwhile, was watching the police car on their trail. He took a moment after calming Ella down to reload the guns from the floor bullets. He watched Ella as he did: she seemed calmer now, but he assumed she was one misstep away from losing it.
Ella was a bit of a powder keg sometimes. After spending more time with her, Alex was a little unsure how she was able to handle stressful situations by herself in the field. While Alex had always been able to keep a steady head and actually preferred to work alone whenever possible, he learned quickly that was not the case with Ella. Having a more stable counterpart like Noa; Oliver when he wasn't being overprotective; and himself, even, seemed to remove her anxieties and actually help her (admittedly very impressive) skillset shine through. But that was not a conversation he ever wanted to have.
If Ella said she was good, then Alex would believe her. He would also take the extra seconds to assure them both of that fact because Alex's life had no room for uncertainties.
Despite all of this, Alex wasn't feeling much calmer. He elected not to tell Ella what he was about to do, because one, she would probably worry and two, he hadn't fully admitted it to himself yet. All Alex heard were those blaring police sirens gaining a little more ground on them every second.
He focused on the guns. He could probably load them with his eyes closed–thanks, Malagosto–but it felt necessary to put 100% of his focus into loading the creepy firearms.
He looked back up at Ella once they were loaded. "That's the bridge," he pointed about a mile up the road. It still felt weird to Alex that he was beginning to understand what miles were. "What are you going to do?"
"Uh, cross it?" Ella's voice was high.
"And what are you not going to do?" Alex needed her to be perfect if he was going to successfully do what he had planned.
"You didn't tell me that part," she whispered, "The only words I know are River, Bridge, US-19, and Pennsylvania."
"Right. Yes. What you're not going to do is change the speed of this car. I need you to be so steady for me. Can you do that?" Ella nodded. "Great. Now, no matter what you hear, don't look over, and don't stop driving."
Alex had made fun of Ella when he had seen her pack this dense army green ballistics helmet from the safe house. Now, it might just save his life. He reached into her backpack, which was between his legs on the floor, and pulled the thing out. Alex placed the helmet on top of his head and loosened the chin strap so it fit.
He had certainly done more dangerous things with way less protection in his life, but they had the equipment, so he figured he might as well use it.
Alex took a deep breath, double-checked the guns, and prayed that if he got shot, it wasn't in his chest or his face.
He lowered the window and poked his head out, facing the police car. The sirens were even louder outside and he heard the officers–he counted two of them–yelling at them to pull over.
Pulling over was not on Alex's list of things he gave Ella to remember, so he was not going to let that happen. The police car was maybe two feet behind them now, and Alex assumed they were going to get rammed if he didn't put a stop to this right now.
Alex unbuckled his seatbelt–sorry, Ian–and opened the passenger door, careful not to let it open too far into the neighboring lane. To his left was a petrol station called 'Sheetz;' to his right was Ella with her eyes glued on the road; and the police cruiser was in front of him. With his right leg kneeling on the seat and his left in the accessory pocket of the car door precariously holding it open, Alex opened fire on the police car.
Gun in each hand, he shot out the front right tire and the windshield of the vehicle chasing them. He forced his head down, looking at the road beneath him moving at terrifying speeds, and awaited the returning gunshots.
After two heartbeats, he still didn't hear any return fire, so he braved a look back up at the car. Instead of gunshots, he heard a terrible shrieking sound. The car had lost traction when Alex shot out its tire and Alex watched helplessly as it careened over the sidewalk and towards a truck filling the gas pumps at the Sheetz.
Three things happened at once as the car made the final leap toward the tanker truck. One, Alex felt something grab him by his belt and pull him back into the car. Alex smacked his head against the side of the car as the door shut beside him, but the ballistic helmet did its job and he felt next to nothing. Two, Alex felt the car speed up. Ella put all of her weight on the gas pedal as she pulled Alex back into the car. Three, they both watched through Alex's window as the cop car crashed into the tanker truck and blew up on impact. A fireball consumed the cruiser and the tanker in seconds and the tanker was in flames.
"If you wanted my shorts off so badly, you could have just asked," he smirked at Ella as soon as their tires crossed onto the bridge.
Hour 9.1
Star City, West Virginia
"What the fuck," I breathe as I keep my foot steady on the gas pedal. We're pushing 70 as we get onto the Star City Bridge. "Did you just blow up a police cruiser and hit on me in the same breath?" I look over at him and smack him in the ridiculous army-green ballistics helmet atop his head.
"I more expected them to crash into a telephone pole than the petrol truck, but yeah I did," he says casually.
What happened to not wanting to kill people? One on hand, Alex may genuinely be a sociopath. On the other hand, "That was ridiculously hot, Mr. Bond."
"Finally someone who appreciates my craft," he smirks.
I'm thankful for the distraction of driving for our lives because whatever is going on in the passenger seat right now is too much for me to handle.
We're the only ones still driving west across this bridge. Everybody else stopped to watch the fire at the Sheetz, and that's just fine by me. For another moment it's just Alex, Rikki, and I against the world.
I slow the car down as we approach a point in the road where other cars are merging. We're cruising at the 45 mph speed limit. I'm less panicked now that we don't have the police on our tail. Morgantown does not appear to be a big city, so all of its emergency departments are likely focused on the gas station situation.
As soon as we get out of West Virginia and change our license plates, we should be in the clear. I relay all of this to Alex, but he continues to monitor the surroundings. "Please, take that stupid helmet off. It's immediately suspicious," I demand.
"Come on, you love it."
"I love not being pulled over," I shake my head, "Please, Alex? We can't be more than 10 minutes from the border now. We just need to keep it together until then." My hands clench the steering wheel and I'm starting to panic again. I take a shaky breath because this combination of running from the police; shooting out the tires of multiple cop cars (and completely obliterating the second car and its officers in a fireball); and Alex being so goddamn alluring in the passenger seat is doing terrible things to my mental stability.
"Yeah, I'll take it off," he says softly, clearly aware of the energy shift in the car. I don't know why he's being so calm and casual right now when we've just killed two cops and are on the run from both state and federal authorities. "You're okay," he assures me.
I shake my head slowly at first but quickly pick up speed. I hold onto the steering wheel with my life.
"Woah, hey," he puts a hand on my shoulder, "What do you need right now to help you feel grounded? We are as good as captured if you can't keep driving, so we're going to figure out how to calm you down. Do you want music?"
"If I have to hear Elvis sing another Christmas song, I might drive off the road."
"Noted," he replies, "Does it help if I continue talking or should I be quiet?"
"Um," his words swirl around the inside of my skull, "Keep talking. I need a distraction or else I'm going to start spiraling." I glance at the mile markers indicating we're under 7 miles from the border. So close.
"Hey. How do you say 'car' in Arabic?"
Easy. "سيارة," Sayaara.
"How about Dutch?"
"Auto."
"German?"
"Also Auto," I roll my eyes.
"Yep, I was just testing you. Good job, Ells. What about French? How do you say 'car' in French?"
"Voiture."
"Great job. It's also Auto in Spanish, right?"
"Yep. And Italian."
"You're sharp. What other languages…Indonesian!" he exclaims, "What is 'car' in Indonesian?"
"Mobil."
"And remind me what it is in Russian?"
"Alex, I know you know the answer. Your Russian is great. Remember we spoke it with Yuri?"
Alex sighs softly. "Yes, Ellie, I know that it's машина, but this was more to get your brain to think about something else for a moment rather than me forgetting my vocabulary. I guess it didn't work, so I'll think of something else–"
"מְכוֹנִית is car in Hebrew," I interrupt him. What's that thing Clara Baker always says? 'To be loved is to be known?' Uh oh.
He smiles. "Damn right, it is Ells. You speak Chinese, right?"
"车," Chē.
"I'll take that as a yes. Now, full disclosure, I do not know if you speak any other languages, but I would love to hear 'car' is as many as you know."
I recite the word 'car' in Yiddish, Afrikaans, Portuguese, Japanese, Hindi, and Greek. We play the same game for the word 'music' and before I know it, we're cruising past the blue 'Welcome to Pennsylvania' sign.
I sigh with relief and choose to 'Pursue My Happiness' as the sign tells me. I finally take my eyes off the road and turn to face Alex.
I must have the dumbest, toothiest grin ever on my face because he chuckles and asks me "What?"
"Nothing. That was just really sweet. Fastest 10 minutes of my life," I say. I blush and lean over the center console and he meets me in the middle and we're kissing again. I don't know why I do it. He is so sweet and I just like the feeling of stubble on his upper lip, I guess.
It's Alex who pulls away after a couple of seconds. "Ella, steer!" he exclaims and we come up on a bend in the road.
I quickly correct the car, making sure we don't go flying off the road. "Sorry," I say sheepishly and he laughs, the noise filling up the car.
Interlude #4
Mt. Morris, Pennsylvania
Mt. Morris Truck Stop
In three minutes, we reach the truck stop and I park around the back. I press down on the gemstone of one of my favorite rings to kill the footage of any nearby cameras for the next ten minutes. That's all we'll need. Alex and I get out of the car quickly and get to work.
I fish one of the other license plates out from under the seat while he finds the multitool in the trunk. "I can make the change," I say, "You stand guard."
I am crouched behind the car, in the space where the asphalt of the parking lot meets the grass, using the multitool to unscrew the old, evil, license plate. Alex stands right next to me watching carefully. We're lucky the Lincoln Continental is such a standard vehicle and that the older model fits right in with these small Appalachian towns.
We're also lucky that there are only a few trucks and even fewer cars at this stop. There's a restaurant attached to the rest station, but I'm still full from the Popeye's, even after a high-speed car chase.
Changing the license plate only takes me two minutes. I rest the old one on top of the trunk and admire my handiwork. Alex reaches his hand down to help me stand up. Still holding my hand, he pulls me in close. "Hey," he smiles at me, "You did it."
"I'm a bona fide Suprawoman," I quote one of my favorite books, hyper-aware of the warmth of his hand around mine.
"What?" he laughs.
"I'm immense," I reply, "But seriously, thank you for helping me keep a clear head out there."
"Hey, that's what mission partners are for," he says, tucking the single strand of hair that has fallen out of my ponytail behind my ear. He lets his hand linger against my cheek and it burns at his touch. "Ella, can I kiss you?" he asks, "Without a police presence?"
I swallow. "C'mon, Rider, it's only a matter of time 'til they show up. Might as well give 'em a show," I raise my eyebrows up at him.
He's leaning down, and I'm on my tiptoes, and we're kissing again, and has he always been this damn tall? He lets go of my hand and puts his arm on the small of my back, keeping me close. His other hand caresses my cheek and I lean into the touch. I rest one of my hands on his chest and my god, he's fit, and the other is in his hair. We stand there, lost in each other for the longest and shortest minute of my life.
I tap on his chest and we break the kiss. "How tall are you?" I ask, because what else do you say after kissing your mission partner?
"6'3," he smirks, taking my hand once again.
"Remind me to wear heels next time," I laugh, still caught up in Alex.
"Duly noted."
"I hate to ruin the mood," I start, "But I think we should go inside and change our appearances again. The one cop who actually saw us is probably still alive and we need to change."
I bring my entire safehouse backpack (sans-ballistics helmet) inside the truck stop with us. "This is not romantic," I hiss as I pull him into the bathroom. I give him a pair of green contacts and take brown lenses for myself. We've effectively switched eye colors, which might be funny under different circumstances.
"We need to change our appearances as much as we can. If we get pulled over for anything at all we're screwed because that cop took one of my IDs and now Alex Rider, Ella Cornell, and Megan Wilson are all separately on the run from the police."
"We certainly get a lot done together as a team," he quips.
I go first this time in changing my hair. Rather than cutting it again, I decide to mix it up. Alex helps me clip in hair extensions and I am thankful my hair is my natural color so they actually match. I am also thankful that I was able to wash my hair this morning so that the process is not completely disgusting for him. Ten minutes later, my light brown hair is down to my mid-back: longer than it has been in years. Lengthening my hair will definitely throw people off. Alex, on the other hand…
"Do you want your hair cut or dyed?" I ask.
He runs a finger through his black hair. "You are not cutting this," he says defensively.
"Then I'm dyeing it."
"What if you didn't mess with my hair every time we entered a new state?" he suggests.
"I didn't do anything to it in West Virginia. Do you want long hair? I think I have black extensions in here somewhere."
"I'm keeping it as is, and I promise you I'll wear a hat."
"Okay," I concede, "But stand still for a sec." I grab my liquid eyeliner from my disguise kit and motion for him to lean down closer to me. I dot in around his cheeks and nose, giving him maybe 50 freckles. "It's crazy how much your freckles come out in the summer," I laugh.
"I look totally different," he says as I give myself a couple of moles on my left cheek with the same eyeliner. "How did you get so good at disguises? The John Cornell School of Ruining British Boys' Hair in Gas Station Bathrooms?"
"You haven't seen anything yet, Rider," I grin, "And the John Cornell School had a guest lecturer that day. Australian professor Cloudy Webber taught me all I know."
"Holy shit," Alex replies, "I know her! She once turned me into an Afghan refugee boy."
"Sounds like Cloudy," I smile nostalgically. Of all of the John Cornell School Guest Lecturers, Cloudy was my favorite (except for the guy who taught me how to make Napalm. That was awesome). "I actually have the supplies to dye your skin if you like, but we'll need a bathtub."
"I'm good," Alex puts both of his hands up. I pop a retainer into my mouth to change my voice a little, but that is all that I can do in this gas station bathroom.
"Ready to go, Beckett?"
"You lead the way, Megan."
Hour 9.3
Mt. Morris, Pennsylvania
I brush out my newly long hair with my hands as we walk back to the car, trying to conceal as much of my face as possible. I'm wearing a pair of sunglasses I swiped from the convenience store (Alex frowned when I lifted them, but I chose to ignore him) and a plain red baseball cap that I pull down as low as possible.
Alex does agree to a pair of fake glasses that I have on hand, and with that, it feels like we're officially on the run.
"I think there are two things we need to do before we just take off," I tell him as I slide into the driver's seat. One, we need to get you a little more confident behind the wheel. I don't mind driving a majority of this, but it's better if you can pick up some slack too," he nods, "Two, we need to set a route. I want to avoid pretty much every major city that we possibly can on the way up to Maine. It'll likely add several hours onto our journey, but I think it's worth it."
"Me too," Alex agrees.
"I think we should put as much distance as we possibly can in between us and the tanker truck you blew up before it gets dark. Then, we'll find a field or parking lot or something and teach you how to drive. We can camp again somewhere and fully plan out our route."
"I like it."
We take Route 79 for another fifteen or so minutes before beginning our journey east through the one-lane country highways of Southwestern Pennsylvania.
Interlude #5
Camp David
Frederick County, Maryland
Oliver Baker was conflicted. Before this week, he had always considered John Cornell to be his surrogate father figure. Now, he wasn't quite sure that he wanted that.
Oliver had lived with Cornells for a couple years in his early twenties and John was quick to assimilate him into their (admittedly strange) routine of training and learning. John Cornell kept his kids very close which made sense once he was honest to Oliver about what his job was. However, there was a big difference between homeschooling your kids and having a multi-state manhunt to find your nineteen-year-old daughter.
Before moving to DC, the Cornells had always been his sort of weird homeschooled cousins he saw two or three times per year. They were all significantly younger than him, and at those earlier Piper gatherings, he usually hung out with Johannes and the Van Dijks. Sem and Johannes were quieter guys, while Adriaan always sought out trouble. Before he mellowed out with age (only a little, Fenna loved to remind him) Oliver was definitely in that second camp. When he and the other guys weren't finding their own fun, Oliver would spend every spare second trying to get Fenna to notice him.
Until Oliver had moved in with the Cornells between 2015-17, he had really never given the younger Piper kids a single thought. Oliver was part of the older group–born between 1990-1994–with Adriaan, Johannes, Sem, and Fenna.
Part of Oliver longed for those old days. His father was still around, for one, but there was something he missed about playing capture the flag with Johannes, Sem, and Adriaan. The boys (and Fenna if she deigned to come with) would be turned loose in the woods and wouldn't come back until it started to get dark. All of the dads would be drinking beers around the fire, waiting for their return to make s'mores.
That was how Oliver learned Dutch. It was the first language of his closest friends in the world, and he picked it up quickly so he wouldn't get left behind.
He missed Adriaan often, though he could never tell Fenna that. He was her brother, after all. Adriaan was his best friend in the world until his tragic passing (gruesome murder) back in 2013 when Oliver was still at uni. It was usually to Adriaan where Oliver's mind traveled whenever he had a spare moment. He thought back to the rough and tumble kid he used to lose (miserably) to in footraces; the only other boy who would actually wrestle with him at these Piper retreats; the slightly older guy who gave him his first beer at fourteen and his first joint at fifteen; and his still and lifeless body in that casket–so perfect, save for the bullet hole in the side of his head. Oliver tried not to have too many spare moments.
Most of all, Oliver was overwhelmed. These Piper gatherings always made him nostalgic for the simpler days, but John Cornell was making that really fucking hard to enjoy right now.
It wasn't until 1997 when James Cornell was born and a ton more kids followed in quick succession and all stuck together. James was first; then came Roee; then Ava, Danny, and his sister all within 3 months. By the time Ella came around, and the twins a year later, Oliver had had it with babies and tended to stick to his own crowd.
It was Adriaan's passing that effectively killed the distinction between groups. The babies were a little older now, though Oliver largely kept to himself that first year, 2013, when Adriaan was gone.
That all changed when he came to America. John Cornell had offered him an internship in the CIA after he had seen promise in Oliver at the 2014 rendition of Piper. Oliver had just joined the SAS, following his father's footsteps, but had jumped at the opportunity to get more field experience. He packed his bags and moved in with the Cornells in May of 2015.
He had written off the Cornells as little kids and expected to spend most of his time off meeting people in DC clubs, but a fifteen-year-old Ella threw a wrench into that plan.
From the moment he had begun unpacking his suitcase in the Cornells' basement, she had been right there, begging him to hang out. Oliver had turned her down repeatedly, wanting nothing to do with an over-energetic teenager. As always, Ella persisted and wore him down. May turned into June, and when Ella and her siblings went to the Netherlands for the summer, Oliver actually found himself missing her.
When they all got back to the States, Oliver found himself spending more time with Ella. He had realized how much of a hardass her dad could be; how pompous James behaved; how silent Michelle was about everything; and how precarious the energy in the Cornell home could be.
Oliver's home life certainly wasn't perfect, especially for his younger sister Clara. While Oliver had followed in his military-man father's footsteps, Clara had always been a sensitive and artsy kid. Their parents had absolutely gone too far with Clara on occasion, but at least she had Oliver to back her up. Whenever Ella would butt heads with her father, no one ever came to her aid.
Oliver filled that role easily–it made him miss his own sister less–and the two had acted like real siblings ever since. To this day, Oliver told people he had two younger sisters. As frustrating as he found Ella sometimes, he would (and has) kill for her, but that's just what having a little sister is like.
After becoming closer with Ella, Oliver got to know the other younger Piper kids too. His and Ella's newfound alliance had essentially merged everyone together (except for little Christopher and Lilia) and made the Piper reunions fun again.
Last summer, he was so happy to learn that she was coming to England for uni. John Cornell had a way of dragging people back in, and Oliver was glad to see Ella show some self-awareness and get herself out of that house.
Ever since Ella had taken off from Camp David a few days prior, the entire gathering was in disarray. Everyone had stayed out of loyalty to the Cornells, but Oliver could see everyone's patience running incredibly thin.
Johannes 2 was absolutely complicit in wherever the hell Ella was. Oliver could see right through him and was shocked that no one else did.
He had managed to escape the presence of John Cornell nearly an hour ago. He had found Fenna sitting on his bed crocheting a top. She put the hook down and stood up to greet him.
"Oliver, schat, you look stressed," she observed, smoothing out his forehead wrinkles with the tip of her thumb.
"I am, Fen," he said, leaning in to kiss her. Fenna was tall–5'11 just like him–and Oliver quite liked that.
"Any sign of Elsje at all?" Fenna whispered into his ear, careful not to be overheard.
"Not here," Oliver whispered back, "Come with me."
Oliver led Fenna into the attached bathroom and turned on the shower. "I don't know what is or isn't bugged, so we're having this conversation in the shower."
Fenna raised her eyebrows. "Is it really that serious, or did you just want to get me na–"
"Fen," he hissed, "It really is that serious."
She nodded and began to undress. Oliver did the same, and in a moment, the two of them were standing under the world's smallest showerhead. She kissed him on the cheek. "What's up, Olls?" she asked, still staying quiet.
"No sign of Elsje, and it's for the best," Oliver replied, "I trust she can take care of herself, but what her dad is doing is weird. He's not looking for her in a 'concerned parent' way. It feels a lot more like a manhunt than a lost child."
"She's nineteen," Fenna considered, "And I'm sure he knows she can handle herself. Did those two have a fight or something?" She began rubbing shampoo into his hair.
"I wish I knew," Oliver shook his head, sending soap flying across the shower, "She didn't say anything before she left and didn't tell anything to Yuri either. He is keeping an eye on them though. I don't think he's slept for more than a couple hours total since they met up."
"Wait, 'them?' Is she with somebody?"
Oliver swore under his breath. "Promise to keep this between us?"
"Of course, schat."
"Well, I told you that John Cornell interrogated Johannes 3 and me pretty heavily about whether Alex and Ella were dating." Fenna nodded. "Well, I guess Alex was in DC for whatever reason and she ran away to go find him. That's what John Cornell said anyway. Johannes 2 is feigning innocence and everyone else is just pretty sick of this whole charade. Michelle is very upset that she ran off, but clearly doesn't know anything more than that."
"Olls, that doesn't sound like a full story," Fenna said meaningfully, "Elsje wouldn't just run away from here without good reason. Her best friends in the world are all in one place. It has to be bigger than 'she likes a boy.'"
"God you're smart. And beautiful," Oliver took a good look at Fenna.
"Don't I know it," she winked.
"Seriously though, what the hell do you think happened between John and Ella? Sure, she's messy, but she didn't even tell Noa where she went. I just hope she's okay."
The couple finished up their shower in silence. Oliver's head felt heavy and he just wanted to take a nap.
"Hey. You're all good," Fenna put a hand on his chest and kissed him.
"I'll be right out, Fen, I need to find some Paracetamol for my head." Oliver opened his travel case and started searching for the bottle.
She nodded and exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel.
"What the fuck?!" he heard Fenna yell. Oliver whipped around. "What the hell are you doing on my bed?" Fenna exclaimed.
It was none other than John Cornell sitting at the foot of their bed, staring into the bathroom. Oliver tied a towel around his own waist quickly before following his partner.
"This is Oliver's bed," John Cornell said simply.
"Yeah, and we've been together nearly four years. Obviously, we're sharing a bed. Now get the hell out." Oliver appreciated that Fenna had zero qualms about yelling at John.
"I was looking for Oliver."
"I'm right here, Sir. Now could you please let us get changed?"
"I can turn around if you'd prefer."
"Fuck this," Fenna mumbled, "I'll be in Clara's room." She picked up her clothes and walked down the hall.
Oliver turned to watch her go solely so he didn't have to look at John Cornell for a moment. He was overflowing with rage over the way John spoke to Fenna and about Ella. He clenched his fists and tried everything he could think of to slow down his heart rate.
"Oliver, you're like a son to me, you know," John started, "Which is why I came to find you."
"Can you just get the hell out of here, man?" Oliver blew up. The calming techniques didn't work. Clearly.
"I resent that, Oliver. I come to you in my time of need to find my daughter and all you do is yell at me. I've done a lot for you, you know. Housed you. Fed you. Paid for your father's funeral. Made sure that DUI you got the night of his funeral never saw the light of day."
Oliver didn't know what to say. He knew Ella would take the sarcastic route, saying something like 'Good to know that was all from the kindness of your heart.' Noa would scoff and just plain leave. Johannes 3 would apologize, probably. Fenna…Fenna would escalate things.
"Are you threatening me?" Oliver challenged. He cataloged the situation. Oliver wrapped in a bath towel could take John Cornell with one functioning leg ten times out of ten.
"Of course not, Oliver," John Cornell backtracked, clearly noticing the younger man's sudden interest in his cane, "I just wanted to talk. Go get dressed and meet me in my cabin so we can have a real adult conversation."
Oliver was speechless as John left the room. Yeah, he was definitely over the whole "surrogate father" business if this was how he treated his children.
He took as long as he could to find a change of clothes. He ran into Fenna who was waiting right outside the bedroom door. "Okay, Fen," he whispered directly into her ear, "I believe you. John definitely said something to Ella. I don't know what, but I'm going to find out."
Oliver used the three-minute walk between cabins to calm down. He was going to shove down his feelings until they were nothing. He was undercover now. He could figure this out.
At the Cornells' cabin were only John, Michelle, James, and both Johannes 2 and 3 Everybody else had removed themselves from this situation days ago. "Hi, everyone," Oliver greeted the group, a fake smile plastered on his face, "What did I miss?"
John motioned him towards a computer monitor with a blinking dot in the center of a map of Pennsylvania. "I've found her."
AN:
1) Oh, we are in it now. Leave a comment if there's anything you'd like to see/keep seeing/never see again.
2) Shorter chapter today. These 10k+ word chapters are getting a little out of hand, but luckily I'll have the next chapter ready for you soon.
3) The book Ella quoted was Catch-22. She def had her "war novel classic lit" phase because who didn't?
4) I'm becoming active again on Tumblr and have begun posting about I Spy. Follow me at flowersforzoe11 !