AN:
1) It's time to move on, it's time to get going…
2) And on the topic of Tom Petty, you might want to listen to some of the songs mentioned later on so the Ella/Alex dialogue makes more sense.
3) Yes, this chapter was named after the Pink Floyd song. Bite me.
4) Follow my tumblr flowersforzoe11 for the occasional I Spy post and also up-to-date maps of this road trip.
Chapter 33: On The Run
Interlude #6 (take 3)
Red Roof Inn
New Stanton, Pennsylvania
I wake up to a shrill noise. Is it already light out? No, the hotel lights are on. Alex is still in the bathroom? Wait…
I run my tired eyes and glance over at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It's been twelve minutes since I last saw the clock. I got to sleep for a whole twelve minutes tonight.
The noise belongs to Uncle Johannes's flip phone, and Alex comes out of the bathroom as I answer it. I yawn into my fist and motion him over to me.
"Ella," a gruff voice whispers. It's Oliver again! Alex and I have to lean in closely to hear him at all. "I literally have a minute, but your dad found you. He's tracking you somehow and knows you're in New Stanton, Pennsylvania. We've gotten him away from the computer for a while, so get rid of the tracker now and get the hell on the road."
The line clicks, and Alex and I exchange worried glances. "Holy shit?" Alex exclaims.
"He must have put a tracker in my stuff back at Camp David!" The realization dawns on me with horror. "Alex, I am so sorry I didn't check my stuff better," I put my head in my hands, "I never thought he would do something like this."
"Hey. This is not your fault," He looks me in the eyes.
I climb out of bed, and every bone in my body yells at me for it. "I'll start by checking my backpack for anything suspicious."
"Don't do that."
"Why not? We need to find and destroy the tracker and get out of here!" How is he so calm right now?
"Because, Ella, I got us covered." Alex walks over and takes something out of his own bag. It's a small metal box. "This," he explains, "Is a portable RF inhibitor. It's a gadget that MI6 gave me for my mission. Once I turn it on, it'll jam every radio frequency, surveillance system, GPS, and Bluetooth signal. Smithers said this one works for up to 30 meters. I can turn it on once we're back in the car, and we should be covered."
I want to hug him. Screw it. I do hug him. "Alex, you just saved us."
"Smithers always comes through," he smiles, "But I do think we should get back on the road. You okay to drive? The rain has slowed down a little, but it should still offer us a cover. I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to practice behind the wheel."
I sigh. "Yeah, I can drive. I saw a coffee maker downstairs-and I will have to grab a cup-but I can keep going."
"If you need me to switch, just let me know. We'll find a parking lot to practice in for a few minutes, and I can take a turn. I just need to get myself reacquainted with the controls."
After grabbing our bags, we race out of the bedroom and run down the stairs. Even taking the elevator feels like a waste of time.
Alex fills two styrofoam cups with coffee while I check out at the front desk. "Please," I beg, "Can I just get my security deposit back? We barely even spent any time in the room."
"Sorry," The woman working at the front desk said. It was a different person from before, "We aren't able to check the rooms until 9 am tomorrow. What's got you in such a rush anyway?"
I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. "Our baby boy is sick. The babysitter is taking him to a hospital in Pittsburgh, and we need to leave right now."
"Ma'am, I'll ask you to please calm down," she says flatly.
"My infant son Oliver just threw up blood, and you're telling me to calm down?"
"Ma'am, please," the desk worker sounds as tired as I feel.
Alex comes up beside me and presses a styrofoam cup to my lips. "Sip. Take it easy." The bitterness of the coffee hits me like a ton of bricks. It's lukewarm at best and tastes like it has been sitting around all day. "It's just money. It's not worth it. Let's go, Honey."
He has to drag me out of the lobby. We stand under the awning for a moment while he fiddles with the umbrella. "You cool?"
"I was a dick back there."
"Yeah. But it's okay. You're stressed."
"I can't believe I brought a tracker with me. I'm always so careful."
"Hey. We're going to be okay." Alex finally opens the umbrella, and we both huddle underneath it. It's awkward, to say the least.
We shuffle over to the car, $100 poorer, and for the millionth hour of today, I sit back in the driver's seat.
I shuffle through the bags in the trunk until I find what I want-powdered gold. I tear open five Pixy Stix of varying flavors and pour them into my coffee. I swirl the liquid to let them dissolve before taking another sip. It's certainly unholy…but not terrible? The sugar certainly cuts into the bitterness. The list of things I will have to confess to Noa, my therapist, and probably God is getting worse by the hour.
"Ella, out of respect, I'm not going to ask any questions, but are you sure you're okay? I'm sorry I didn't just let you sleep."
I take another sip of the sugary monstrosity. "New rule: we have a lot of car time to talk, so next time we're at a hotel or a campsite, we shower and sleep, and that's it." I reach my fist across the console, and he bumps it.
"Deal."
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, and my phone rings again. "That's weird," I note but pick up the call anyway.
"Elsje, Alex!" The voice greets us. Yuri? "Are you two doing okay? I just spoke with Oliver. That's how I got this number."
"Hey, Yuri," I sigh with relief, "Yeah, we're not the best. Turns out the CIA is able to track us now. Either way, we have something to block the signal, so we're hoping for the best."
"Yeah, I have no idea how they are tracking you," Yuri pauses, "Wait, what do you have?"
"An RF inhibitor," Alex replies.
"Oh," I hear Yuri perk up, "That is good news. After this call, turn it on, and I'll try to track you from this phone. If you hear nothing from me, it worked."
"Thanks, Yuri."
"I've tried hacking into the computer at Camp David, but I can't seem to remove the tracker. The best I can do is scramble your signal for a few minutes at a time. I think your best bet is to keep that RF inhibitor on at all costs and keep moving. In the meantime, I can make it look like you're traveling in the opposite direction. You're still headed north?"
"Yes," I reply, "Maybe you could make it look like we're traveling towards Chicago?"
"I can do that," Yuri assures me. "Full disclosure: I have invited my friend over. Her name is Kyra Vashenko-Chao, and she usually works with me on contracted assignments. I have barely slept a wink since you've left, so I need someone to take shifts with." I open my mouth in a panic, but Yuri doesn't let me get a word in. "Oliver told me this would probably freak you out, but please stay calm. She doesn't work for anyone and has no ties to the American government.
"Uh, just a sec," I mumble. Alex takes the phone from me and mutes us for a moment.
"Hey," he makes eye contact, "This is okay. Yuri wouldn't sell you out."
"How can you be sure? I don't want anybody else to know about this."
"Yuri wouldn't betray you because he knows Oliver would kill him in cold blood. He looked like he wanted to strangle me just for being in your presence, and if something actually happened, I think he'd go berserk."
I hate it when my fears are comforted by rationality.
"And furthermore," Alex continues, "If Yuri was working for your father, why would he go through all that trouble to help us in the first place? It would have been easier for him to keep us in the safe house until your dad got to DC. Yuri was the one who put us on the phone with Oliver when he called to say your dad found out you had escaped. He is undoubtedly on your side, Ella."
"I know," I say softly, "I just hate unknown quantities. I wish I knew I could trust this Kyra. What the hell kind of a name is Kyra?" I sputter. "Is Yuri trying to collect people who sound like my exes?"
Alex laughed. "I'm going to unmute us now." He clicks a button on the flip phone.
"We're back, Yuri," I say into the phone.
"Good. Kyra is booking you decoy plane tickets from Chicago to London right now. They leave in five days. What are some fake names to use for you that would be obvious enough to tip off your father?" Yuri asks.
"Oh, smart! One sec," I mute us again, "Alex, what was the name you used on your first mission with the CIA? The one with Troy and Carver?"
"Alex Gardiner," he says slowly, "How do you remember that mission? We talked about it for like a minute over a year ago."
"I remember lots of things," I brush him off, "Okay, you're going to be Allen Gardiner, then. A combination of your first CIA mission and the one in Texas we did together. It's enough of a puzzle that my dad will feel super smart when he figures it out. At the same time, it's not so recognizable that it's a clear red herring, nor is it completely randomly generated. We need this to be convincing enough for him to think we'll actually be in Chicago."
Alex nods. "So what will you be, then?"
"April Gardiner. I was born in April, and us having the same last name will piss him off."
"And do you ever get sick of playing these twisted mind games with a grown man?"
"Why do you think I'm running away?"
We relay the names to Yuri and hang up the phone. Alex turns on the RF Inhibitor, and thankfully, a second phone call from Yuri does not come through. Even though it's dark and drizzling, and my eyes are so heavy, I breathe a sigh of relief.
"Wait, before we take off, I have something for you," Alex says, handing me something plastic. It's a CD case.
"Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers Greatest Hits," I look up at him, "You remembered."
"Of course, I remembered."
"Where did you find this?"
"Well, yesterday, I saw that Cracker Barrel sold CDs. I checked them out to see if they had anything you might like, but they literally just had country music and more Elvis. There was another woman nearby, and she asked what I was looking for. I listed some bands, and we made a trade. This bad boy cost me both the Grease soundtrack and Elvis Presley: The Classic Christmas Album."
"You did good work, Rider," I salute him solemnly enough to piss off ancestors on both sides of my family, "I'll miss Good Old Elvis, but to be honest, you fleeced her."
I do not deserve this CD, nor do I deserve Alex's kindness, but I push those thoughts to the back of my brain, insert the CD, and take a sip of my now-cold coffee as the opening notes of "American Girl" fill up the car.
Interlude #7
Camp David
Frederick County, Maryland
An hour went by and Oliver Baker was mercifully not harassed by any Cornells or Bermans. Every cell in his body wanted to grab Fenna's hand and get the hell out of the States, but he couldn't leave his mother, Clara, or especially Ella. He had to stick it out until she turned back up.
There were still four full days of this campground bullshit, and Oliver very selfishly hoped that Ella would be en route back to Europe by then. As much as he loved Yuri, didn't want to spend the next unknown number of days trading sleep shifts and stressing over Ella's whereabouts with the guy.
Oliver wanted to get on a plane back to London with Fenna and get back to work.
The couple split their time between London and The Hague. Between the SAS, AIVD, and their other commitments, the two were always picking up odd jobs. They were glorified mercenaries, working alongside the British and Dutch governments and some private entities, as well as picking up some special side-projects (cough, Revengers). Jobs came frequently and Oliver and Fenna wore many hats.
In fact, after spending a few days of downtime in their North London apartment and hopefully catching an Arsenal game, Oliver would be heading to Wales. More specifically, he would be returning to his short-lived home of the Brecon Beacons. He had been hired for a three-week stint to return as a parachuting instructor for the SAS. Fenna, meanwhile, would remain in the city. She would be a private security guard for a certain movie star coming to London that month.
Lots of Fenna's jobs were in the private security sector. Her dazzling looks combined with her affinity for firearms made her highly sought-after by Hollywood stars, socialites, and fashion designers alike. Most of the time, she was assumed to just be another rich woman along for the ride. No one ever suspected Fenna until they felt the cold unforgiving metal of a Glock against their temple.
After these jobs wrapped up, it was back to the Hague where they would stay in their second flat (funded by the very generous Hendrick van Dijk who ostensibly wanted his only daughter to remain close to home, at least half the time) where Fenna would pick up some fieldwork for AIVD and Oliver would tie up some loose ends with the Dutch Underground from their partnership this summer.
Oliver loved his and Fenna's arrangement. It was a messy, beautiful collision of two worlds. He had two homes where he regularly saw his two families. He could work as much or as little as he desired. He was never in one place for too long (after only two months of stagnation, Oliver could already feel himself unraveling) but he always had his partner by his side. To Oliver, home was a person, not a place, and boy, did Oliver love his person.
It was next to Fenna where Oliver sat in bed. She was crocheting the same top from earlier. It looked more like a scarf to Oliver, but he kept his mouth shut. It was good that Fenna had a hobby. He rested his head on her shoulder basking in the quiet of their bedroom. He knew that the next few days were going to be especially hard on him, so he enjoyed this moment of peace with his partner.
Interlude #8
Camp David
Frederick County, Maryland
Two cabins over, Noa Yaron was sneaking out of a window. Ella's uncle had let her and Roee off really easily, and she and her brothers had raced back to their cabin. In case Ella's uncle changed his mind about telling their parents, the Yaron siblings needed an alibi.
Now, once she was sure everyone was asleep, Noa climbed out of her bedroom window. Being the only sister did have its perks, namely always having her own room. Noa had beaten her brothers outside and sent off a quick text.
Me:
hey, Ellie, i know you won't be seeing this for a while, but i want you to know you're still on our minds here. hope to talk to you soon. love you.
It was far from the first text like this that Noa had sent, and it would be far from the last. She hated that Ella was exclusively talking to Oliver back here at camp.
Usually, Noa loved Piper weeks because she got 7 uninterrupted days with her best friend, but this year was really bumming her out. As much as she enjoyed getting into trouble with her brothers, she could do that anytime. Ella was supposed to be here. She slipped her phone back into the pocket of her cargo pants and took a steadying breath.
Noa heard a thump! and looked over to see Roee climbing out his and Oren's shared bedroom window. Her twin was already on the ground, having landed in a deep crouch.
"So, what's the plan?" Noa asked softly.
"We've got a new mission," Oren waggled his eyebrows, "Operation: Save Ferris."
"We can't save Ella. She's on some adventure from hell, and there's nothing I can do about it," Noa kicked a rock towards the cabin.
"She's not Ferris, ya tembel. You are," Roee replied. "Ella isn't my problem. You are, and you look like you need a little saving. Ferris."
"We may not be her, but we wanted to try and recreate some of the things you guys do at Piper events. Might make the next few days a little easier on you," Oren added on.
Noa's heart swelled. She loved her stupid brothers. "Well, the first thing she and I do is make out with tongue, but we should probably skip that one since we all shared a womb."
Roee and Oren froze for a moment. "Wait, you're serious?" Roee balked.
Noa left them hanging for a second, and it was already the most fun she'd had all day. "No, Ksil, of course, I'm not serious. She and I could both do better," she quipped.
"Chachmolog," Roee muttered. Smartass.
Hour 11
New Stanton, Pennsylvania
The song plays, and I use the pen I took from the hotel room to trace out a route on the paper map. That way, even if I fall asleep, Alex will still know where to go.
It's a heinously indirect route, favoring smaller state roads instead of main highways. Soon, we will enter the expansive farmland of Central Pennsylvania before hitting tens of hours of forest between Northern PA, New York State, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. It's mountains all the way up, and then we're off to Canada.
It certainly adds a lot of time to the drive, but avoiding the major cities will be worth it. If it all goes right, we will hopefully make it across the border in the next three days. By my estimation, the route will take between 30 and 40 hours without stopping, which is entirely doable. If at all possible, I want to be on a plane to Europe before Piper ends, so no one feels any obligation to stay in America.
I pull the map away from my face to admire my handiwork. The route is perfectly crafted by a madwoman. We're about to get very used to being one of the only cars on the road.
"This song reminds me of you," Alex broke the silence. "American Girl" was fading out.
"Astute observation, Alex," I tease, "I am indeed American and I am indeed a girl. This must be why MI6 keeps you on their payroll." I chuckle as the opening drums of "Breakdown" take over the car.
"No, seriously," Alex continues, clicking the reverse button. We sit in silence through the opening instrumentals and as Tom Petty's voice fills the space between us.
Alex pauses the song right as the 'Oh yeah!' marks the start of the chorus. "Don't you see how that is literally you?"
I pause for a second, letting the lyrics clarify in my brain. "Well, she was an American girl/Raised on promises/She couldn't help thinkin' that there/Was a little more to life somewhere else/After all, it was a great big world/With lots of places to run to/And if she had to die tryin', she/Had one little promise she was gonna keep," I recite, "Fuck, that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."
Alex grins. "Well, that can't be true."
"Seriously. Tom Petty is the best. And this greatest hits album was released like a year before his magnum opus, Wildflowers. I'm no patriot, but when I hear his voice, the whole Americana thing makes sense to me. It's all sprawling roads and beaches, raw emotions, and self-reliance. Yeah, this country has a lot of problems, but Tom Petty makes them feel a little smaller."
Alex and I lock eyes, and I catch myself leaning in again. I pull away and clear my throat. "Sorry. We should…we should really get on the road." I take another sip of my coffee, and it's just the gritty dredges of undissolved pixy stix. I gag on the sugar, and Alex laughs at me. He hands me his cup, which is still fleetingly lukewarm.
"You need it more than I do. We'll stop and get some hot coffee as soon as we can," he pats my shoulder. I tip the styrofoam cup back and pour the remainder of the coffee down my throat. It tastes pretty terrible, but drinking it quickly helps me ignore the bitterness lurking in the back of my throat.
"There's a Sheetz right up the road. That's a gas station," I clarify. "We'll get two coffees and get the hell on the road."
I order myself the largest coffee that Sheetz is willing to sell me and a chai for Alex. Fucking Brits, I think a little more fondly than I'd like to.
I also pick up a package of minty breath strips. The stale coffee has caused my breath to smell more like mustard gas than roses.
The drinks are done, and I bring them both out to the car. There are only a handful of other vehicles in the lot, and I see Alex at the wheel of Rikki. Standing under the shadowy cover of the Sheetz entrance, I take a sip of my coffee and watch him. He backs out of my parking space slowly, and I notice him bite his lip while he concentrates on the controls.
The parking lot circularly surrounds the Sheetz, and I watch Alex until he disappears behind the building. I sip my coffee again, grateful the rain has stopped.
Alex and Rikki round the corner again and come back into my field of vision. Without stopping, Alex begins another loop around the Sheetz. I know we need to get on the road, but I've barely had ten minutes of alone time in the past few days, and I relish in the peace and quiet.
For a few moments, it's just me, my coffee, and the breath strips against the world.
I'm startled by the screech of tires. Alex skids into view and drifts perfectly into the parking spot in front of me. He flicks the headlights at me with a smirk. I sip my drink to hide my smile and walk up to the driver's seat window.
He rolls down the window, and I hand him his chai. "Thanks, Ella. I can drive for a little while," he offers, "I think I'm getting the hang of driving on the wrong side of the road."
"You and your English Exceptionalism," I smile down at him, "And thank you. I really could use the break." I walk around the car towards the passenger side, stifling a yawn.
I can feel my body unraveling at the seams, and hopefully taking a break and drinking some coffee will make me feel a little more human. Right now, all I want is a hug and eight hours of sleep, but a short break from driving and some Tom Petty will have to do.
I navigate Alex out of New Stanton and back onto the road. He is driving maybe 5 under the speed limit, and it's surprisingly steady. My mind flicks back to him driving us around back in Austin, but that was so long ago.
I'm thankful that the road keeps changing. We quickly maneuver from US-119, to PA-31, to PA-981 in just the first few minutes. Switching between reading the map and giving Alex directions is great because it forces a very easy conversation. I can just tell him to keep left or to turn at the next light, and we don't have to think about this evening at all. We never kissed! I am normal about my childhood! Turn right at the church up ahead!
PA-981 turns back into US-119, and before I even realize it, an hour passes by. One down, somewhere between 29 and 39 to go.
Microscopic Western Pennsylvania towns pass by the window slowly. I settle into my seat, trying to ignore the heaviness behind my eyes. I focus on the steady rumbling of the car, the glow from the roadside reflectors, and the opening notes to "Into the Great Wide Open."
Ella," I hear, forcing me to open my eyes. Visions of Eddie feeling disenfranchised by the record industry fade away as I struggle to focus between Alex's voice and "Last Dance With Mary Jane."
"Mmpfh," I reply, rubbing my eyes. It takes me a second to realize that we've pulled over on the side of the road.
"Hey," Alex says softly, "I know you're tired, but I need you to stay awake a little while longer. At the very least, you need to give me the next few steps."
I yawn into my fist. "Sorry," I say slowly, "I just need a minute. I can stay up."
"You have any coffee left?" I shake my head. "Here," Alex hands me his tea, the cup still a little warm.
"Alex, I'm not going to drink that."
"My tongue was in your mouth earlier today but you won't share a cup with me?"
"No, klootzak, I just don't care for chai," I say irritably, and he immediately flinches. "I'm going to step outside and do 50 jumping jacks. Then I'll be more awake." I unbuckle and step out of the car, making a point to slam the door a little. A girl can't even dislike tea in peace.
I stand between the car and the guard rail. There's a bridge crossing a river maybe 50 feet in front of us, and I'm reminded of some unfortunate earlier events that happened just before a bridge.
We're the only signs of human life as far as I can see. The shoulder barely fits half of our car's width, so that's fine by me.
I begin doing jumping jacks to get my blood flowing. I need to finish them quickly in case another car drives by. These roads are rural but don't feel completely isolated. Nevertheless, it's nice to get out of the car for a second. It's tense in there.
75 jumping jacks later (I needed the extra minute to myself. Sue me.) I'm back in the passenger seat. I buckle in, pull out the map, and study the route. "Okay, so I assume that is the Conemaugh River up ahead," I say, getting my head back into the game, "US-119 will turn into US-22 in about," I measure the map key with my little finger, "5 miles." I pause again, tracing the route with that same finger. "That's about 8 kilometers. We're going to stay on US-22 for…about an hour, maybe less. Then, around a town called," I pull the map closer to my tired eyes, "Hollidaysburg, you'll switch to I-99."
"So are you just going to give me directions for the rest of this trip?" he challenges.
It takes a metric ton of willpower to not kill him in cold blood. He's lucky I'm bone-tired. "Alex, you asked for directions," I say through my teeth, "If you have something to say to me, just say it. No more passive-aggressive bullshit. And either way, I think we should get moving, so either start driving or switch seats with me."
Alex pauses for a second but starts the car up anyway. He must have paused the music while I was performing jumping jacks on the side of the road because the car is completely quiet. I'm exhausted and don't feel like explaining myself, so I exercise my right to remain silent.
I can tell he's waiting for me to say something. I can feel the tension radiating off of his skin. I see his fingers squeeze the steering wheel, and he's biting his lower lip again.
"Keep right," I finally say, "You want US-22." Alex nods and follows the instruction.
"I don't think we should drive all night," he blurts out. "We have a lot we need to talk about, and exhaustion isn't helping us be civil."
I nod. "Agreed. I'm mean when I'm tired," I concede. "And I really don't want to chug a Red Bull and stay up all night." I pause for another heartbeat. "However, I do think we should put a little more distance between us and the motel." I glance back at the map, following the route with my eyes.
"How much longer do you think?"
"One sec," I reply, searching for a specific town name. Bingo. And it's right on the way! I measure the distance with the length of my little finger again. It's crude, but it's good enough. "Maybe two hours? I think I know someone we can stay with."
"Who could you possibly know 2 more hours into Pennsylvania?"
"Someone my Dad would never think of," I grin, "But I need to call him real quick. Can you turn that thing off?" I ask, gesturing at the RF inhibitor. Alex blanches. "Just for a minute, I swear."
"Fine," Alex replies and flips the switch. I pick up his flip phone–it's still unused–and begin punching in a series of numbers.
The line rings thrice before he picks up. "Hello? Who is this? "His voice is soft.
"Antonio!" I announce, "This is Ella."
"Ella Cor–" he begins.
"Yep! It's me, I say, cutting him off before he can finish my last name. You truly never know what is being listened to. At the same time, my phone rings. "Actually, hold on a sec, sorry." I mute Alex's phone and answer mine. "Hello?"
"Hi, is this Elsje?" a deep female voice responds. My face pales. "I'm Kyra, Yuri's friend. Just wanted to let you know that we're able to track you guys again." I sigh with relief. I focus on Kyra's accent. It's hard for me to place. It's definitely Eastern European but sounds distinctly non-Russian.
"Yeah, I'm Elsje. Thanks, Kyra. I just have to make a necessary phone call really quickly but we should be back offline in 5."
"5 minutes? I can try to scramble your signal for that long. And maybe you can tell your friend Oliver to distract the people tracking you? Yuri said you would know what that meant. I can wake him up if you need, but he just fell asleep."
"Yes to scrambling our signal. Yes, I know what that means. No to waking up Yuri," the pseudo-sentences come tumbling out of my mouth, "I have to hang up on you to call Oliver, but call me back in 7 minutes if you can still track me. Thank you." I hang up on Kyra, silently cursing Yuri for even telling her that much, and dial the last number Oliver called me on.
"Hello?" A voice picks up immediately. It's Fenna.
"Fenna!" I exclaim. "Is Oliver there?"
I hear a loud smack! followed by a groan. "Olls! It's Ella," Fenna hisses.
There's some shuffling over the line and I take a second to mute myself on my phone. I unmute on Alex's. "Antonio, are you still there?"
"Yeah, what's up?"
"I'll be one more minute. Don't hang up." I switch which phone I'm muted on and pull Oliver back up to my ear. I hear shuffling sounds and then the loud pounding of the shower.
"Ella, are you okay?"
"Yeah. Can you make sure my dad isn't tracking me for the next 5 minutes or so? We had to turn the RF inhibitor off for a moment–don't ask–and I need you to distract him."
"What time is it?" he asks. Unhelpful.
"It's like midnight," I glance at the car's clock, "Look, Ollie, I'm sorry if I woke you up, I just need–"
"Ellie, shush. Your dad has been passed out for a few hours now. You have Noa, Roee, and Oren to thank for that. There's no way he'd be awake yet, but please, hurry."
"Holy shit, did they pull a 'sleepy time tea' with my Dad?" I exclaim. Alex shoots me a very curious look.
"Sort of," Oliver says gruffly. "Now hang up unless you need anything else. I need two consecutive hours without encountering a Cornell."
I stifle a laugh but shut the phone, thus ending the call. I toss my flip phone onto the console and return to Antonio.
"Hi, Antonio, sorry about all that."
"Why are you calling me, Ella? We haven't spoken in how long?"
"Yeah, that's my bad. It's just that my friend and I are driving cross-country right now and we're maybe two hours from Lock Haven. We're reaching a point of exhaustion and wanted to know if we could crash at yours for the night? We'd be out of your hair by the morning, I promise. I know that this is super last-minute-and kind of weird-but we can't really afford a hotel tonight and I'd really appreciate it." It's an onslaught of words and I speak quickly. It's much easier to get people to agree to things if you talk faster than they can process.
"Woah, Ella, slow down," Antonio pauses. "I'm actually not in Lock Haven right now. Our semester doesn't start for a few more weeks so I'm home with my family."
"Where is home, again?" For some reason, the name of the town escapes me.
"Allentown," he replies. I quickly search for the name, and it's way too big of a city, way off course, and way too close to Philadelphia. Besides, we would never be able to make it all that way tonight without nodding off behind the wheel.
"We're coming in from the North," I lie, "So we're nowhere near there, unfortunately."
"Ella, are you sure you're okay? You sound weird."
"Yes!" I say, way too quickly, "Just exhausted from driving all day. We're coming from Boston and it feels like I've been in the car for a century."
"Why were you in Boston?" Stupid, inquisitive Antonio.
"I'm helping my friend move from Boston to Atlanta," I breathe more oxygen into the lie, "We wanted to stop along the way at a hotel, but everything is way over budget and we're panicking a little bit. I really don't mean to bother you, but you're the only person I know who lives in the middle of Pennsylvania."
What the fuck, Alex mouths at me. I brush him off.
Antonio stalls for a second. "Ella, I'm going to call you back. Give me two minutes." The line clicks and I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding in.
"Context in a second," I mumble to Alex, fishing around for a plastic water bottle. I take a swig in an attempt to cool down.
Every second that Antonio doesn't call me back makes me tense up even more. I'm a huddled ball of flailing energy. I'm on a collision course. I am a satellite, I'm out of control! No. I'm an American Girl raised on promises. Wait. There's someone in my head, but it's not me. And yet. Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts!
Alex pulls the car over again and grabs my chin, making me face him. "Hey. Ella. You're going to take a deep breath, okay? Ella!" I nod quickly. "In for four seconds. One. Two. Three. Four. Now hold it in. Two. Three. Four. Now exhale. Two. Three. Four." I do the breathing exercise again, and wouldn't you know it!? Oxygen helps!
"Ella, I know you're stressed but I need you to pull it together. I know that everything is really intense–and really tense–but this whole thing is going to fall apart if you don't keep your head on straight."
"Alex, I think I'm losing my mind," my face crumbles. He's still holding my chin in his right hand. "I don't know what's going on with me. I swear I'm not usually this much of a mess on missions. I don't know why I can't just be normal."
"Hey," he says, pulling me in for a hug. He holds me tight in his arms and I tuck my face into his neck, willing myself not to start ugly crying. I'm mostly successful, but a tear or two escapes onto Alex's shirt.
"I'm sorry," I whisper into his skin. He holds me even tighter. I don't deserve any of this.
My phone buzzes again and it's Antonio.
"Deep breath," Alex instructs, letting go of me, and I breathe in again.
I exhale and take a second before picking up the phone. "Hey, Ella, it's me again," Antonio greets, "So I just called a couple of friends to see if you could stay with them, but no one is back in the Haven yet." My heart drops. "You said you're like two hours away?"
"Approximately."
"I can get there in maybe 2.5 hours. We're halfway moved into my apartment, but we have a couple of couches you can sleep on for the night. I guess I'll have to steal some blankets from my parents' house, but I can make this work."
"I…I can't ask you to do that. It's fine. I'm sure we can find a campground or something and sleep in the car. Seriously, Antonio. I'm sorry to bother you."
"I'm packing a bag now. I'll get there as soon as I can." Antonio recites his address and the line clicks.
Alex flicks the switch on the RF inhibitor. I sit still, the phone still in my hand.
"Ella, you're catatonic. Please talk to me."
"Antonio was my childhood friend," I finally find my voice, "My first kiss," I remind him.
"Ah, Cheetos," Alex remembers somberly.
"Yeah," I whisper.
"Can you talk to me?" he asks.
At the same time, I say, "I need a hug."
Alex pulls me back in and I take another shaky breath. "Alex, I'm losing my mind," I say into his shirt.
"I think you're exhausted and over-caffeinated."
"You're a genius," I pull away, "How did you know that?"
"I'm not some savant. I could just feel you twitching with excess energy yet you're still falling asleep in your seat."
"This must be why MI6 keeps you on their payroll," I repeat.
"Love the sarcasm," Alex mutters, "But we need a game plan. You said we stay on US-22 for another hour?"
I double-check the map. "Yeah. Then between Duncansville and Hollidaysburg, you'll merge onto I-99."
"What's next?"
"You'll be on I-99 for a while. Just under an hour, I'd say. Then, you'll get onto I-80 near a town called Bellefonte."
Alex sighs. "Okay. US-22 until Duncansville, then merge onto I-99. Then, in Bellefonte, merge onto I-80?"
I nod. "You'll be on both roads for just under an hour."
"Okay," Alex considers, "I can manage that. Why don't you sleep for a little while and I'll wake you up when I see signs for Bellefonte."
I shake my head. "Alex, I need to stay awake. It's late and you shouldn't be driving alone in a foreign country."
"Ella," he says carefully, "I've done much more insane things than driving at night. You need 90 minutes of sleep more than I need a buddy."
"Seriously, I can stay up." I yawn, betraying my earlier statement.
Alex smirks. "Get some sleep."
I pull my hoodie over my head and shift around in my seat. It's so warm. I lean my head against the cool car window and–
Interlude #9
Camp David
Frederick County, Maryland
Noa was incredibly grateful for her brothers. However, she could not resist the urge to mess with them just a little bit.
The Yarons were raised around the military. It was a very practical, no-frills environment.
For that reason, Noa decided to make her brothers frozen strawberry margaritas while they watched 10 Things I Hate About You. Noa stood by the movie choice–it was one of her and Ella's favorites–but the drinks were pure psychological warfare against Roee and Oren.
Ella and Noa shared similar sentiments about drinking. Liquor got the job done fastest, so there was no need for too many embellishments. They just slowed you down. However, it was up to Noa to challenge traditional masculine ideals one pink frozen margarita at a time. Besides, she had to admit they were delicious.
Roee and Oren had rolled their eyes at the drinks, but to their credit, they kept quiet. They were even engaged in the movie (though Noa would have thoroughly appreciated it if Roee stopped thirsting over Heath Ledger while she was in the room).
Noa placed her glass against her lower lip, tasting the sugary rim. On the screen, Kat and Patrick were playing paintball together. Noa wished she had a paintball gun right about now.
She was sitting between her brothers on the couch of their family's cabin (the siblings had no need to hide watching a movie from their parents) when there was a knock at the door.
As the eldest, Roee got up to answer it. It was a very disheveled Oliver. He wore black-and-red checkered pajama pants and a beat-up University of East London t-shirt. Noa smiled when she noticed a small hole forming in the fabric under his arm. He wore glasses with thick black frames and his messy hair was much more 'bedhead' than 'playfully tousled.'
Oren paused the movie as Roee and Oliver descended into the living room.
"Oliver, I finally understand what Fenna sees in you," Noa smirked.
Oliver made a gruff noise and took her drink out of her hand. He took a sip and immediately shuddered. "Christ, that's strong. The drinks you make violate every law set forth during the Geneva Convention."
"As if you care about that," she grinned.
"What are you doing here, achi?" Roee asked.
Oliver walked into the cabin's bathroom and turned on the faucet. He motioned for Noa and her brothers to follow him, and they all squeezed into the space. "I just got a call from Ella," he started, speaking lower than the faucet.
"Ella called you?" Noa brought her hand to her mouth.
"You had to bring her up?" Oren sighed.
"What's his problem?" Oliver asked Noa.
Roee spoke up. "You're actually crashing a very important cheer-up-Noa-because-her-best-friend-ditched-her party," he explained, "You okay, Ferris?" he asked Noa, putting his arm around her. She nodded.
"Sorry to crash the party," Oliver replied, cleaning his glasses frame with the bottom of his shirt. Noa caught a glimpse of his abs and immediately understood what Fenna saw in him. Noa may not be into men, but she could appreciate a six-pack as well as anybody.
She exchanged glances with Roee who looked like Wile E. Coyote ready for his next meal. She did her sisterly duty and punched his shoulder to make him quit staring. Her older brother gave a withering look, but by that point, Oliver had his glasses on, and his shirt was back down. Noa swore she heard Roee sigh.
Shut the fuck up, she mouthed at him in Hebrew.
Oliver spoke again. "Ella called and needed her father to stay asleep a little longer. Just a little insurance for the rest of the night," he clarified. "I thought it would be best to come straight to the experts. We want something that will last a good," Oliver glanced at his watch, "Few hours. And nothing remotely lethal," he added quickly.
"You've come to the right man," Roee puffed out his chest. "Give us ten minutes, and we'll meet you outside."
Oliver turned off the faucet, and the three siblings hightailed it to Roee and Oren's shared bedroom.
Oren was the first to speak up. "Are we as a group going to address the fact that Oliver is hot?" Noa snorted. "Like, I'm the token straight one, but those abs had me questioning everything," he shook his head. "I mean, they were chiseled."
"Ashkara!" Noa and Roee exclaimed together.
Oren nodded solemnly. "I'm glad we're in agreement because otherwise, I might have had to do some soul-searching."
Roee laughed and went searching around his bag. He pulled out a lighter and a small bag of blue pills. "Noa, get me a spoon. Oren, get me Ima's medical kit."
Noa and her twin left the room to retrieve the items. She ducked back into her room to sneak out the window (again!) to steal a spoon from the kitchen cabin. Oren certainly had the worst job: entering their parents' room to take their mother's medical kit unnoticed. Noa did not envy him. She tied back her hair and began the sprint to the kitchen cabin.
Noa was unsure of what Roee was plotting. Most of his antics involved brewing "sleepy time tea" or baking drugs into food, but for some reason, this all felt a lot more serious. There was a growing pit in her stomach as she entered the cabin.
Noa grabbed a metal spoon and rinsed it off in the sink before turning back around. She wished they were baking together instead of whatever this was. In her eighteen years, she had never once doubted her older brother's intentions, but she swallowed her feelings and ran back to Roee like a good little soldier.
Noa returned to her brothers and found them both outside of her bedroom window. Oren was holding out the medical kit and Roee held a bag of crushed pills and a water bottle. It was opposite the front porch where she presumed Oliver stood waiting.
"Ach," she whispered, trying to hand Roee the spoon.
Roee opened the medical kit and removed a pair of nitrile gloves. "Keep the spoon and hold it steady for me."
He poured a little water onto the spoon and about half of the pill dust. He slipped the lighter out of his pocket and held it under the spoon, causing the liquid to bubble and crackle.
Noa watched on in horror as her older brother removed a needle from the medical kit and used it to suck up the dissolved pills in water.
She and her twin exchanged troubled glances. "Roee, what have you done?" She asked as he put the cap back on the syringe and slipped the lighter and the spoon into his pant pocket.
"It's the only way to keep him sleeping without needing him to ingest any food or liquid."
"I'm really not sure about this," Noa voiced her dissent softly.
"Me either," Oren agreed and Noa felt a little better to have him on her side.
"Well, what do you suggest we do?" Roee's voice hardened. "I'm trying to protect your best friend here while she's off on some joyride."
"You know there has to be more to the story than that," Noa whispered. Oren closed the medkit and put his arm around his twin.
"Roee, maybe we could just leave some sleepy time tea next to his bed or something? Or even a glass of water with an extra ingredient?" Oren continued, "Achi, what is your plan? Inject him with valium and hope he doesn't OD?"
"That is exactly my plan."
Doubt crept into Noa's brain. There had to be a better way to handle this.
She jumped as she heard a branch snap, but it was just Oliver.
"What is taking so long?" he demanded.
"Roee wants to knock John Cornell out by shooting him up with valium," Oren blurted out.
Oliver's eyes darted over to the syringe in Roee's hand. "Didn't I tell you nothing lethal?" His voice is icy and Noa was grateful for the warmth of Oren's arm around her shoulder.
"It's only 10 milligrams," Roee protested, "That's a standard dose."
"That is not where your mind should immediately go," Oliver fought back, "You and I need to have a conversation. Noa and Oren, why don't you two destroy his computer? Don't let anyone hear you, including Ella's siblings. We're scrapping the 'roofieing' plan, and you two are going to destroy government property. And make it look like an accident," he hissed.
Oliver frogmarched Roee back toward the Baker cabin.
Noa and Oren exchanged glances. "That was fucked up," Noa finally said.
"I've never seen him take something that far," Oren agreed.
Roee was being weird, and Noa was grateful for Oren's lucidity. As much flak as she gave him, they were usually on the same page about the important stuff. They were Noa Aviva and Oren Aviv. Together in birth and middle name.
The twins hurried over to the Cornells' cabin, peeking through the same window Oren watched through earlier.
Interlude #10
Blairsville, Pennsylvania
Ella had fallen asleep against the car window immediately. Alex, meanwhile, repeated directions in his head. US-22 until Duncansville, then merge onto I-99. Then, in Bellefonte, merge onto I-80.
Alex Rider was feeling many complicated things about Ella, but in order for them to get through this stretch of the trip without murdering each other, Ella needed an hour of sleep and Alex needed an hour alone with his thoughts.
Their conversation in the hotel ended badly, and Ella had been a basket case ever since.
Alex just hoped that an hour of sleep would be the solution to most of her problems, because he, too, was on the precipice of his own emotional breakdown.
Alex was no stranger to an outburst of his own but ever since Oliver's phone call about the tracker he has been in Ella Mitigation Mode.
He truly had no new or novel thoughts about their situation. In order to actually make any progress, he needed to have an adult conversation with a better-rested Ella.
Alex just hoped that this Antonio was a more normal old 'friend' of Ella's compared to Derek or even Tai.
Hour 13
Bellefonte, Pennsylvania
"Ella!" The shout of my name startles me and I nearly hit my head on the ceiling of the car. "Sorry to scare you," Alex says, "But the last time I tried to wake you up by shaking you, you karate-chopped me." I smile a little at the memory.
"I stand by that," I say sleepily, rubbing my eyes.
"We're about to pass Bellefonte," Alex stated.
"That's good," my brain stalls a little, "Thanks for getting us here." I pick up the map to reorient myself. "Okay, you're going to stay on I-99 for a few more minutes, then merge onto I-80 heading east."
"Got it," Alex said. His driving has gotten noticeably smoother in the past couple of hours while I was asleep.
We're silent for a moment. "You feeling any better?" he asks.
I pause for a second and then nod. "Yeah. Sorry for acting weird earlier. I think I was so tired and overwhelmed I was bordering on insanity."
"I think that too," Alex says softly.
His voice trails off and the car is filled with dead air. I sift through something–anything–to say but come up short. Nothing feels good enough. I clear my throat and hope he takes the hint to speak, but the vibe has certainly shifted for the worse.
I look over at Alex and his eyes are laser-focused on the road. "Merge up here," I say after a couple more minutes as the sign for I-80 comes into view.
"Got it."
If he has nothing to say, then neither do I. I pour all of my energy into studying the map and perfecting the directions for when they come up.
Interlude #11
Camp David
Frederick County, Maryland
They climbed back inside the Cornells' cabin: Noa first and then Oren. Oren had always been good with machines, so Noa left him to do his magic.
She, meanwhile, locked the door to the office and watched into the hallway through a tiny hole caused by a natural warp of the wood.
"What's your plan, Ori?" She whispered to her twin in Hebrew. She opted for their native language for two reasons: one, it was more comfortable and two, she knew John Cornell had never bothered to learn it.
It was pretty fucking interesting to Noa that he spoke so many languages and claimed her father to be his best friend, yet couldn't speak more than a few words of his native tongue. As the singular person of color on the original Piper team–Noa's father was Mizrahi and had ancestry from both Israel and Syria–he spoke both English and Dutch, but only Ella's uncle had any understanding of Hebrew. While Johannes 2 had learned the language going to Hebrew school as a child–Noa still counted this–not a single other original member had even tried.
When the Cornells, Bakers, or Brookes hosted their yearly gathering, the dads all spoke English. When the Bermans or Van Dijks hosted, they spoke Dutch. When the Yarons hosted in Israel, everyone just reverted back to English.
Noa wasn't here to make any accusations. She just had a lot of observations.
Ella had been trying to learn Hebrew as early as Noa could remember. It wasn't for religious reasons. Despite having a Jewish mother, Ella never attended Hebrew school. Instead, it was because, at the Piper gathering when Noa was 3 and Ella was 4, they couldn't understand each other. There's a video of little Ella trying to engage Noa: she spoke English, Dutch, German, and a little Spanish, but Noa was monolingual. Their mothers constantly had to translate between them, and it made Noa and Oren (Roee had already begun picking up bits of English at school) feel left out.
At the next year's Piper gathering, Ella came armed with more Hebrew phrases. She was in no way perfect, but it was enough to break down the communication barrier between them. The two girls had been best friends ever since.
Again, Noa wasn't one to make any accusations, it was just interesting that a four-year-old Ella was more culturally aware than a bunch of high-ranking adult men.
Since then, Noa has learned English and Arabic in school, picked up a little Yiddish with Ella, and taught herself Russian. She refused to learn more than the basics of Dutch. It might be her best friend's language, but it was a damn unserious one.
Noa shook her head and focused on the task at hand.
"I'm going to melt his computer," Oren responded back in Hebrew.
"How do you plan to do that?"
Oren pulled a multitool out of his pocket and flipped over the laptop. He unscrewed the bottom, exposing the motherboard. Noa watched on as he scraped away at some hardened glue (Oren explained that it was a thermal paste used to keep the laptop cool). He then unscrewed another tiny screw from the motherboard and wedged it into the processor fan.
Oren booted up the laptop and downloaded his favorite game: Red Dead Redemption 2. He opened up the game and left the computer to run it. Last, someone had left a sweatshirt on the desk, and Oren placed the laptop on top of it.
"This thing will be unusable within the hour," he explained to his sister, "It will overheat quickly and start melting the motherboard. My gaming PC can barely handle Red Dead, and without a functioning fan, this thing is toast." Noa could already hear the whirring of the laptop. "Feel it, Nomi, it's already heating up." He was right. The laptop was already warm to the touch.
The twins escaped back out the window, shutting it behind them. Oren had also (almost evilly) turned off the two box fans that were running in John Cornell's office to speed up the process.
They didn't hang around. They were lucky not to be heard by any Cornells. The two raced back to their family's cabin under the cover of darkness.
"Hey Ori," Noa whispered as he helped her through her bedroom window.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for doing this the right way. I know destroying government property is bad, but melting a laptop feels a whole lot better than drugging him the way Roee wanted. I'm just glad we're on the same side."
"Yeah, I'm with you, Nomi. I don't know what's gotten into him. I'm glad we're on the same side too." He pulled his twin in for a hug.
Interlude #12
Lock Haven University
Lock Haven, Pennsylvania
35 minutes later, we finally arrive in Lock Haven. It takes maybe ten additional minutes to find Antonio's apartment building once we get into town. We're operating off of highway maps and vibes, and finding anything local is certainly interesting.
Alex turns the Rf inhibitor off again and this time, I call Kyra first. "Kyra, it's Elsje. We're going to be visible for the next 5 or so minutes. Can you cover for us?" She says yes and I hang up.
I dial Antonio again and learn he's still 45 minutes out.
For the next 45 minutes, it's just me, Alex, the Rf inhibitor, and the consequences of my actions.
"I have something to say," I manage.
At the same time, Alex offers "You know, we can just listen to music."
"Nope, you first," he corrects himself.
I suck in a breath. "Alex, I think I need tonight to process my feelings a little bit. Can we just be civil tonight and I promise we can talk tomorrow? We will have hours together on the road. I just need to collect my thoughts a little bit."
"What could possibly be so complicated that you can't just tell me now?" Our dads knew each other. My entire group of friends you're jealous of is also your birthright. I'm so into you but after learning a very significant fact about my parents I can't fathom getting into a relationship. We're getting way too close way too fast. I'm a mess. I can't let you get too close to me. I just wish I had someone I could talk to about this.
"I miss Noa," I whisper.
"That is seriously all you can say?" he is exasperated, "You just go quiet for a minute and then say you miss your friend? How did we get from Point A to Point B?"
"It's all I can verbalize!"
"You're going to have to do better than that."
"I will tomorrow. I promise."
"Why should I believe you?"
I ignore him and press play on the car's CD player. The CD starts over and I sit back and listen to "American Girl" without saying a word.
"Breakdown" begins again and Alex finally speaks.
"Must every song on this album have a direct application to my life?" he muses. "Say there ain't no sense in pretending/Your eyes give you away/Something inside you is feeling like I do/We said all there is to say."
"Welcome to the universalism that is Tom Petty," I respond slowly, "And that is a very selective reading on our situation here."
"How so?"
"My eyes don't give a damn thing away behind these contacts," I smirk.
"Listen to Her Heart" comes on next, and Alex says, "I'm not sure who I'm supposed to be in this one. Because you're definitely a 'she' who 'need(s) a lot of loving,' but I still haven't figured out if you 'don't need me' or if I'm going to be the one singing this to Antonio."
"Wow, lots to unpack there. First of all, it's not like that at all with Antonio. You have no reason to believe that after meeting Tai and Derek, but he's honestly just a childhood friend. I haven't seen him in 5 years. Second, if anyone, you should be singing this song to the Capital 'C' Circumstance. It has more of a hold on me than any romantic interest. Third, I don't 'need a lot of loving' and I'm a little offended you think so."
"What do you mean 'sing it to the Circumstance?'"
I reach out my hand and shake Alex's. "Hi, nice to meet you! I'm Ella Victim-of-Circumstance Cornell. Also, Alex, sometimes a fish is just a fish. You're the one who found this album. I thank you, but I'm not trying to send you any messages through it."
"If only you would actually talk to me so I could read into that instead," he mused.
"If only," I repeat, obstinately.
"I Need to Know" comes on next, in all of its rock-and-roll glory. "See, this is an easy one to make about yourself, Alex," I snark, "It's almost like you 'need to know' every single one of my secrets to understand why I don't want to date you." He gives me a withering look and is silent through the rest of "I Need to Know," all of "Refugee."
"Okay, now this one is definitely about me," he says about "Don't Do Me Like That."
"Best case you've made so far," I consider, "With the exception of me being 'American Girl,' of course." This game is beginning to be mildly entertaining, so I need to shut it down. "Alex, you know how we were talking earlier about how our dads weren't the main characters of our stories?"
"'Course."
"What makes you so sure you're a main character in mine?" The line is so profoundly bitchy that it even makes Alex reel a little.
"Whatever happened to 'sometimes the universe gets things right,'" he challenges.
"Sometimes people get things wrong," I shoot back.
"Ella, what exactly is your end goal here?"
"My end goal is talking about this tomorrow," I puff out my chest.
"Seriously?"
"John Cornell School of Stonewalling," I reply.
That effectively ends the conversation, Baruch Hashem. We sit through five more songs, including a very tense "Here Comes My Girl," before Antonio finally arrives.
Interlude #13
Camp David
Frederick County, Maryland
Oliver didn't realize he'd have to parent on top of everything else he had going on.
He frogmarched Roee away from his shaken siblings and into the woods. He needed somewhere with no witnesses.
Oliver and Roee ended up in that same little clearing where he and Johannes 2 had buried the rugelach earlier.
He pushed Roee onto the tree stump in the center of the clearing. He heard an owl hoot nearby.
"Achi, what's your damage?" Roee exclaimed.
"You listen, I talk." Oliver left no room for debate. "I recognize that all of what we're doing here is illegal, but things exist on a spectrum. Drugging those pastries was technically amoral, sure, but it was a much safer way of achieving a noble goal. We all want Ella to be safe, but I will not have the blood of her father on my hands." Oliver didn't know the extent of Roee's knowledge about John Cornell's job, but he sure as shit wasn't going to be the one to call for the death of the CIA's second-in-command. "He is a US government official at Camp David and you are a foreign national. I'm pretty sure killing him is called terrorism."
"I wasn't going to kill him!" Roee fought back, "I was very careful with the dosage."
"Are you a chemist?" Oliver challenged.
"No, but this is something I was actually taught how to do. I'm not as reckless as you seem to think I am."
"You never know how somebody is going to react to you injecting them with something! And what if you damaged a vein or something? I understand that we all laughed about the rugelach, but this is so much more serious. Can't you see that?"
Roee was silent.
Oliver continued on. "I know you think you're some hotshot because you're young and already shooting up through the ranks of Mossad, but you cannot let it get to your head. I was in your position once. I was one of the youngest guys in my class to make it through SAS basic training. It's a different skill set than you have, but no less prestigious," Oliver continued, trying to relate to this 21-year-old kid who was training to be an assassin. "My father was also a bit of a legend in my field, and it could be heady. The expectations were high for me and I kept meeting them. I was earning a ton of respect from high-up people who should never have even known my name. Any of that sound familiar?"
Roee hesitated for a moment but nodded.
"Good. With all of my achievements putting a spotlight on me, the pressure was mounting. I was being pulled in all of these different directions by people with flashy job titles. I may have even entertained a few of them…" Oliver trailed off and Roee looked on expectantly. "Fine. I even accepted one of them and it brought me to a dark place."
"The American government with Ella's dad?"
Oliver sighed. "Yeah, pretty much. I probably should have just stayed in Wales with my SAS Unit but the thrill of being wanted by John Cornell clouded my judgement. I will not share any specific details, but I will say that I was assigned to do some pretty reprehensible things." He took a breath. "I did some pretty reprehensible things."
"Now, I'm not preaching 'peace and love' or any of that bullshit. I'm certainly no angel, nor am I a pacifist. I think that in the world we live in, there is a place for people in our lines of work. I believe the ends can often justify the means. We just need to make sure we never stoop to their level. We can come close, but there's something to be said about knowing when to take the high road.
"If Ella were here, she would probably quote Nietzsche at us," Oliver paused to recall the quote, "'He who fights with monsters might take care lest he become a monster himself.' Am I getting through to you at all, Roee? You need to find out where your line in the sand is and hold true to it because, at the end of the day, you still have to sleep with your choices."
Oliver was pretty proud of himself for that one and paused to let it sink in. "Where's your line?" Roee finally asked.
That was not a question that Oliver expected. "Everyone's is different," he started.
"I know that. What's yours?"
He sighed. "I was taught to protect my own, fiercely. There are people in this world I would kill for, but not if there's a better option. Again, realistically, there sometimes isn't. But you have to take care to minimize harm where you can. Otherwise, you're really no different from the monsters you vowed to fight."
Roee nodded. "That…that actually makes sense. No one has ever cared enough to sit me down and be so…brutally honest about all of this."
"I'm not saying to change your career trajectory. Lord knows Mossad will always need its assassins."
"Hashem knows," Roee quipped.
"Right," Oliver fought off a smile, "I know this was a lot to throw at you, but I hope you'll seriously consider what I said. You're a part of the new generation of young men who are going to inherit the world. If you continue with this career path, you're going to have power and influence–and it can be intoxicating–but you need to start learning how to handle all of that now. The stakes aren't so high yet. You can have your fun, and you can excel in your field, and you can protect the people you love, but never forget your humanity, Roee. Promise me that."
"I promise," Roee said sincerely and Oliver actually believed him. The older man turned around to leave. His bones were aching to be in bed. "Oliver, wait," Roee stopped him, "Thank you for…how do I want to say this…thank you for having a real conversation with me instead of just yelling. I've been caught, uh, messing around before, but it was always just my parents or superiors yelling down at me. Thank you for talking to me man-to-man." He held his fist up to Oliver who bumped it.
"Thanks for saying that," Oliver smiled softly, "Not to be corny, but I believe in honesty. And I was raised by a military dad too. The yelling…" he shook his head, "It doesn't teach you anything except how to sneak around." Oliver reached out a hand to pull Roee up off of the stump and pulled him in for a hug. Roee tensed up at first but Oliver could feel him relax after a couple seconds. "You're a good man, Roee, I believe that."
"Thanks, Oliver," Roee smiled softly for the first time that night.
"What are you going to do now?"
Roee looked at his shoes. "Apologize to the twins."
The answer caught Oliver off-guard.
"They were uncomfortable earlier and I should have listened to them. Nothing is going to change immediately, but I can at least make this right."
Oliver smiled, happy he was able to get through to Roee, even a little bit.
Oliver lagged behind, letting Roee walk back alone. He saw a scary amount of himself in the guy. This macho, no-consequences-hypermasculinity was dangerous. A few years ago, he was so close to falling victim to all of it himself.
In a life that was influenced by the opinions of his father, John Cornell, and the male-dominated SAS, it was the women in his life that pulled him out of it.
It was his mother's kindness balancing out his father's hard stoicism. After Oliver would get yelled at particularly badly after disappointing his father, his mother would always come to check on him with a hug and some tea. She never minded when he cried.
It was his sister Clara's courage. She inherited every bit of their father's stubbornness and was the Baker sibling who actually challenged the status quo. General Edward Baker expected a son who joined the SAS. He didn't plan for a lesbian daughter with a septum piercing and tattoos who wanted to make piano her career. Clara never gave a centimeter when it came to being accepted by her father, and she and Oliver were both better for it.
It was Ella's commitment to seeing the good in people. Few had it as bad as Ella did in terms of their upbringings, but she always came out of it with a smile on her face. Despite everything, she somehow still saw the good in people, even when they probably didn't deserve it (and Lord knows Oliver was at the height of his arsehole phase when he moved to DC).
Last, it was Fenna's resilience. She joined the world of intelligence after losing her brother. She was constantly defying assumptions and used her past to motivate her future. Fenna persevered and never let the bastards get her down.
Any one of them could have written him off, but they stood by him through his journey of not becoming his father. It was Oliver's duty to take what they had so painstakingly drilled into him and impart it to others. Especially younger guys like Roee.
Oliver entered the cabin again, careful not to wake anyone. It didn't matter, because Fenna was up waiting for him. She was still crocheting that top. It had finally begun to take shape and Oliver could see a sleeve forming.
He walked over to the bed, leaned down, and kissed her. She slipped her hand under his shirt and felt his abs. Oliver jumped back. "Christ, Fen, not here. John Cornell already walked in on us once," he shuddered, remembering the shower incident earlier.
Fenna quickly pulled away and pretended to dry heave. Oliver relaxed, happy to be back in her company.
"Where were you? You were gone for a while," she looked him up and down. "Nice outfit," she teased. Oliver looked down at his legs, remembering his pajama pants, and groaned.
"Parenting," he shook his head.
"It's a miracle anyone takes you seriously," Fenna remarked, still laughing about his choice of pants.
"Fen, can we talk about this tomorrow? I give it 3 hours before John Cornell comes back to bother me and I could really use the rest." Oliver took off his glasses and placed them on the wooden table next to his bed.
"Oh, then £50 if you sleep naked," she teased. Oliver ignored her, climbing into bed next to her. He lay on his side, facing away from her. "Fine, 50 Euros," she compromised.
"God, you're so beautiful when you know exchange rates," he said wryly. Fenna put down her crochet project and flicked off the lamp. She snuggled up next to Oliver, putting her arm over his shoulder. She put her other hand in his hair and tousled the bedhead away.
"I just know when my country is doing better than yours. I can feel it in my blood."
AN: (long chapter so I have a lot to say)
1) Wrapped up this chapter a little earlier than expected due to its length (officially the second longest chapter by the skin of my teeth(and these author's notes)) Anticipate two more roadtrip-centric chapters.
2) The RF inhibitor is stolen from the creepy House of Dolls scene in Nightshade.
3) Chose to mix it up today with a (okay, two) Slaughterhouse 5 reference instead of Catch-22 reference. (When she has range)
4) I don't mean for every character in this story to have the same name…Kyla (Ella's ex) was named years before I ever saw the Alex Rider TV series (hello, Kyra). I'm also mixing a little book-canon and tv-canon now, but assume everything in this fic is book canon (until Never Say Die). Kyra Vashenko-Chao exists in this universe but was not at Point Blanc and this is the first time Alex (or Ella) has ever heard of her.
5) Let the record show that during the entire Oliver/Roee conversation, Oliver was fully in plaid pajama pants. If you can't tell, this section was influenced very heavily by recent events. Here's to the people who can have tough conversations.
6) Please, leave a comment on your favorite chapter if you're enjoying this! It's always so nice to hear from my readers:)