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revnah1406 · 7 months

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Mason's Legacy

Chapter 6: Solitude

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David's fist hit the Hyena soldier's face hard. The man shook his head trying to dispel the pain, his hands were tied to the armrests of the chair. He smiled, showing his bloody teeth.

"That was a good one." He mentioned it as if nothing had happened, as if David hadn't ended up breaking his nose with a single blow. "I have to admit, you're getting better at this. Is it because of the fury? Is it getting bigger and bigger as time goes on?" The Hyena tried to keep his eyes up, observing his tormentor.

David's eyes sparkled with anger. It had been a tough few days, knocking down every Hyena control center and base throughout Washington door by door, and they had finally found the Hyenas' main base. They killed everyone except one soldier, who was now tied to a chair, being interrogated. Still there was no sign of the leader.

Harper was in the corner of the room, his back against the wall and his arms crossed. Waiting for David to finish his turn or get tired. But he had been beating that son of a bitch for hours and he didn't seem tired. Harper was starting to get worried about his best friend. Dave wasn't sleeping, he wasn't eating, and yet he didn't show any signs of tiredness. It was as if he had become Section again, that perfect soldier who accomplished his goal no matter the cost. But David's eyes were not the same as before, they radiated anger, but Harper knew that those emotions only hid sadness, heartbreak and guilt. David's relationship with his daughter was very close, Harper could even say that it was vital for David. Abby was practically the only thing keeping David afloat after his wife and Woods died, if Abby had died the day Menendez shot her. Harper feared for what had become of his friend.

He didn't blame him, he felt the same way. The possibility that Abby would never be found broke his heart. Maybe he was better at hiding it than Dave. Harper took refuge in work. Now that the President was missing someone had to organize the Wolves.

Another blow hit that Hyena's face. This one was so strong that it even knocked over the chair. The man laughed again. "This one was even better!"

David was starting to get fed up with that psychopathic man, he even started to think that he was a masochist or something like that. He spent hours hitting him and he would just laugh or make worthless comments.

Section approached him and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket.

"Where are they?" Mason spat angrily.

"Do you know… the true definition of insanity?" He asked the same question he asked Abby before Varl, his boss, threw her into the river tied to a rock. But David ignored him and hit him again. His knuckles were bloody, he didn't even know if that blood was his or the Hyena's.

He turned to Harper "Bring the wires and the battery."

Harper nodded and walked away for a moment, leaving David and the Hyena alone.

The man tilted his head and smiled sideways. "I like that sparkle in your eyes. Despair suits you my friend." He sighed without removing his smile. "But it's okay, I will be kind to you. I will show you that I can be a kind person too. Since you are such loyal soldiers to your country..." the man spoke mockingly. "Alright, puppy... you better put your ears up because I'm only going to say it once." The Hyena began to say "You're wasting your time. The president is found wrapped in a bag and rotting somewhere in the sewers of Washington with a hole between her eyes. So... You're welcome... I've saved you a lot of time."

David's eyes were wide, processing the information. That asshole was saying that they had killed the last president of the United States of America. David cursed silently, they had arrived too late. That was a complete disaster.

"Motherfucker..." David punched him with all his might, this time, some teeth bouncing on the ground. "And what about the girl? Where is she?!" David grabbed the man by the neck and shook him hard.

It took the man a few seconds to realize who David was asking. His smile went from mocking to evil.

"The little girl? Oh! I remember. She held on like a champ... She was tied to this same chair for two days, she didn't scream at any time, she has my respect... Why are you asking about her? Is she someone? important? Is she the president's daughter? Or maybe your colleague's over there?" The tortured man studied David's expression. "No... she's your daughter..."

"Where is she…?!" David repeated, growling as if he were going to rip out his jugular with a single bite.

"Why don't you start looking at the bottom of the Potomac River? Maybe you'll find it–"

The man couldn’t finish the sentence, the sound of a gunshot interrupted him as well as a hole between his eyebrows. Harper still kept the gun pointed at the now corpse. The barrel of the gun was still smoking, the room fell into an abysmal silence. Harper killed him, without second thoughts, his emotions took over and he couldn't help but pull the trigger. He had a terrifying look and heavy breathing.

Section remained silent, he was surprised by Harper's sudden action. It reminded him of when Harper killed Salazar for betrayal.

"We'll send a squad of drones to scan the bottom of the river. We'll search the shores and the bridges. We'll find her..." Harper patted his friend's shoulder and left the room.

David spent some time looking at the corpse, wondering if he would have been capable of reacting like that. For Abby? No, he would have done something worse, if what that asshole said was true, he would have tortured him for weeks, as payment for what he did to his daughter, or simply to satisfy his anger. But that was no longer necessary, Harper was faster this time, so he ended up leaving with his friend. They had to hurry.

Without wasting any more time the search party began. Underwater drones began scanning the entire bottom of the Potomac River. They began to find corpses of soldiers who had disappeared for quite some time, so the Wolves could finally bury their fallen comrades properly. But Abby's body still hadn't turned up.

David was tired, the cold seeping through his wet boots. He had spent hours pulling bodies out of the water. Always hoping to find his daughter's body. Although in a way he was grateful that they hadn’t found her yet, perhaps he couldn’t bear to see her that way, with a blue skin from the cold, stiff hands, and a chest that had no heartbeat.

He sighed and nodded to a couple of soldiers who asked him for help pulling a rather large body out of the water. David looked at the corpse floating next to the two men who were dragging it to the shore. No, it was too big to be Abby. He also helped them get him out of the water, they dragged him along the shore until they handed him over to the team of medics, who would be in charge of a quick autopsy and identifying the body.

David closed the body bag once the entire process was over. He wanted to take a break, his back hurt and the years were beginning to weigh more and more on his shoulders. He sat on the snow, observing the panorama. There were search teams going from one side to the other, some drones flying over the surface of the river and others diving below. It seemed incredible to him that the great network of resources and contacts that the Wolves had throughout the country, in just a few days Harper had managed to contact and bring reinforcements from the bases of operations closest to Washington DC.

Delta lay down next to him. The German Shepherd didn't leave his side at any time. The dog could sense David's concern and sadness.

"Hey buddy..." David stroked Delta's fur and forced a smile.

The animal rested its head on David's lap.

Some soldiers passing by looked at David for a longer time than normal. They probably asked themselves why spend so much resources and effort on finding just one girl. But David didn't care, he ignored them and tried to keep his agitated mind calm.

He took something out of his jacket pocket. It was Abby's butterfly knife. The one she got after the fight in that mall. God, it felt like it happened years ago. He unfolded the knife, showing the metal blade. He had to affiliate it a little. David decided that as soon as they reached the base he would sharpen it well so he could return it to his daughter–... His thoughts stopped instantly and a feeling of loneliness swept him like a wave against the rocks. It felt so strange not having her presence there.

A pair of boots were heard approaching, crunching the snow below. David slowly looked away from the knife and looked at the newcomer.

Harper nodded. Delta's ears perked up as he recognized him.

"Something new?" David asked.

Harper nodded. "Let me tell you"

David frowned in confusion, but stood up, followed by his dog.

They both began to walk along the shore towards the bridge, moving away from the rest of the soldiers and convoys. Delta walked ahead, sniffing the stones and snow.

"What is it about?" David asked, resting both hands on the straps of his vest.

"Yesterday the first guard shift came back." Harper began to explain "I've read the snipers’ reports. They reported seeing a convoy of Hyenas heading towards that bridge." Harper pointed his chin at the aforementioned infrastructure.

"Do you think Abby was in that convoy?" David frowned at him.

Harper tilted her head. "If we calculate the day and hour correctly...It's a possibility. I don't rule it out. We'll send the drones to search the area under the bridge."

They walked a little further.

"Hours later, when the sun began to rise, they saw a light transport helicopter hovering in the area. It had the insignia of the Chicago Wolves. I don't know why they were here."

"You said the CIA was in Chicago after the Perseus attack on Langley."

"That's right... A couple of CIA agents were in the White House but they left before the Hyenas attacked. After that we lost communication with the Chicago Wolves and the CIA. We also can't afford to fix the communications. If Perseus manages to listen to our conversations on the radio, he could find them again. They are still recovering from the blow."

"How long ago did Perseus attack?"

"Maybe a week and a half ago."

David's stomach turned, knowing that they were moving forward gave him a little more hope. But suddenly Delta's barking took away his thoughts.

"Hey, what's wrong with your dog?" Harper asked strangely.

Delta barked, looking at both men and then somewhere in the distance. It kept its ears up high and its tail moved from side to side. And it began to run until it reached a certain point on the shore.

"I don't know..." David grabbed his rifle. Delta didn't tend to bark for no apparent reason. "Keep alert…"

Harper did the same. And watching their steps, making as little noise as possible. They followed the dog for a few more meters until they found a pool of old blood on the snow and stones. It seemed surprising that that blood was still there.

Delta was sniffing the blood, circling around, wagging his tail, seeming to be excited. The German shepherd barked at David and then went back to sniffing at the blood.

It took David a few seconds to connect everything. He looked at the bridge, then at the river, then at the blood.

"She managed to get out of the water…" He looked at Harper for a few seconds. "That blood…"

His friend opened his eyes when he understood. The blood would have to be analyzed and compared with David's to see if there was a match but... there was the possibility...

"Is it…Abby's?"

"Is she alive?"

__________

Abby complained in a low tone as the nurse bandaged her ribs again.

"done." The woman commented when she finished with the bandages.

For Abby, the bandages were too tight, it was difficult for her to move, and her ribs hurt when she breathed. She was sitting on the hospital bed where she was unconscious for two weeks.

"Next time, try not to remove the bandages. They will keep the ribs in place and prevent more serious injuries," the woman advised without even looking at her face. She simply dedicated herself to storing the medical supplies.

Abby could hear the resentment in her tone. Maybe the nurse was still resentful of Abby attacking her from behind, sticking a syringe full of anesthesia into her leg. She had to admit that she felt a little guilty.

She got off the hospital bed where she had been sitting while the nurse did a general check of her injuries and put on the rest of her clothes. She was putting on her sweatshirt as she left the infirmary but stopped before leaving.

"And I'm sorry." Abby mentioned. The nurse looked at her strangely without understanding what she was talking about "for…." Abby rubbed the back of her neck somewhat embarrassed.

The woman seemed to look at her without any expression. "It's not the strangest thing that's ever happened to me. You're fine, girl. Now go away, he’s waiting for you."

Abby was a little taken aback. Expecting? Who?

When the nurse saw the young woman's confused reaction. She pointed her chin toward Abby's back. She looked in the same direction and found Woods. He was there, with his back against the hallway wall and his hands in his pants pockets.

"Are you done, kid?" Woods asked.

Abby had to admit, it seemed extremely strange to see him fifty years younger. With a thick beard and black hair. He did have some gray hair though. At what age did he start to have gray hair? Maybe it made it even weirder to see him alive. She still couldn't fully assimilate it, it gave her the feeling that she was in some dream, that it was some trick of her mind and that she was still in a coma.

A few hours ago she was surviving on the streets of Chicago and now she was in a secret CIA facility. Woods mentioned that since the war started, the CIA made sure to create a safe haven away from Langley just in case. They weren't the best facilities, in fact it looked more like a Guerrilla headquarters in an abandoned hospital than a CIA facility. They must have been going through a bad time.

"Abs?" Woods' voice brought her out of her thoughts.

"Huh? Ah! Yes, everything ready, sir"

Woods looked at her for a few seconds, wondering what was going on inside that kid's head. There were probably too many questions and he wouldn't have the authority to answer them all.

"Let's go. They're waiting for us." Frank shook his head. Motioning for Abby to follow him.

"Who's waiting for us?" Abby followed the man through the hallways. She received no response, just a short look that Abby couldn't decipher.

There were other CIA agents hanging around. Some ignored them, others gave a quick wave to Woods. Abby swore some of the officers were looking at her with resentment or perhaps anger. Abby recognized some of the guards who were in charge of guarding her room when she was unconscious. They had their heads bandaged or some bruises on their faces. She had to admit that she felt guilty in a way. If she had known that they were the CIA, all that wouldn’t have happened. But it's not like she completely trusted them either. It was the CIA after all, they had too many secrets hidden under the mattress. Maybe the only reason she was still there was because of Woods. The only person she could trust at the moment. In fact she wasn't one hundred percent sure about that.

Abby looked at Frank's back. The shoulders were broader and he was even taller. She was still having a hard time getting used to seeing him walk on his own. It was as if he had never been in a wheelchair. Abby wondered what they had done to him, did they replace his knees? Did he wear a prosthesis? Or technology had simply advanced enough to be able to heal his legs. David always said that the greatest technological advances were always made in times of war.

Woods stopped and called the elevator.

“Hey.” Abby was confused “Where are we going?

Woods turned to see the young woman. "Do you want to ruin the surprise?"

"Is that surprise good?" Abby asked with a raised eyebrow.

The elevator doors opened and Woods entered. He tilted his head, considering his response.

"No."

"Huh?! What do you mean by that?!"

Woods put his hand in front of the elevator door to prevent it from closing in front of him.

Frank looked at the girl, he didn't know what to tell her what was going to happen, because he didn't know either. Things were tense at the CIA, they weren’t at the best of times. That's why he had gone to look for her, lately he couldn't even trust his own shadow.

"Worst case scenario you'll die of fucking boredom." He chuckled, hiding his concern.

Abby looked at him for a few seconds, not very convinced. That kid knew him too well.

"Come on, come in already. Or I'll die again just waiting for you."

Abby rolled her eyes, not sure whether to laugh at that joke, and entered the elevator.

"I hope you at least don't leave me alone in whatever you're getting me into."

A small smile peeked out from under Woods' mustache and he snorted through his nose.

"Not a single minute."

The doors closed again but a hand stopped them again at the last moment. When they reopened there was a man of some advanced age, perhaps the same age as Woods but he looked older. He had white hair combed back, wore aviator-rimmed glasses, and had a face that looked like he was bitter or angry with everyone. That man also looked like he was straight out of the eighties.

The man stepped into the elevator, took a quick glance at Abby and then at Woods.

"Woods" That man greeted, ignoring Abby.

"Black." Frank greeted without much interest or with little courtesy.

The elevator began to descend.

The place was small, and those two men were big enough to take up almost the entire space. Abby was in the middle and was starting to miss her bubble of personal space.

"You're late" Black broke the awkward silence by keeping his eyes focused forward.

"No Shit Sherlock" Woods' mood seemed to have worsened with the man's presence.

"It wasn't your job to bring in the interrogation subject." This time Black turned to look Frank in the eyes.

Woods put his hand on Abby's shoulder and slowly pushed her away. Putting the young woman behind him.

"What the fuck did you just call her?" Woods stayed inches from Black, imposing his intimidating figure. Woods was taller and bigger than Black, there was no doubt about that.

Oh no, Abby knew what that look meant. She never saw Woods fight or hit anyone. No, he was too old for that stuff, at least... five years ago. But she knew Woods' temperament and she had heard hundreds of stories about his youth.

Woods was a dog that bites first and barks later.

"You should remember what the situation is and what that kid has done." Black counterattacked without showing weakness. He remained calm in the face of the sergeant's provocations.

"And you should remember who that fucking kid is" Woods pointed at Black menacingly.

Abby watched them as if she were watching a tennis match. To one side, and to the other.

"A last name can't always save her ass, do you understand what that kid has done? I already told Hudson that it wasn’t a good idea to involve you and Mason in this matter. I recommend that you put your personal life aside and act professionally. Remember who you are talking to, my patience has a limit sergeant"

Suddenly the elevator doors opened. A man was waiting for them on the other side. He had a shaved head, sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose, and if Abby looked closely, a discreet scar crossed his face diagonally.

According to Woods, that man with the personality of an ice cube was Jason Hudson. Woods had talked to her about him a couple of times, he always liked to tell the story of how he met him.

Abby remembered that during all the way back to the CIA facility, Hudson barely spoke, and when he did it was curt and cold. Abby could feel his heavy gaze on the back of her neck the entire trip.

Apparently his presence interrupted the tense conversation between the two men. Woods clicked his tongue in annoyance and left the elevator. Abby didn't really know what to do so she simply followed Woods, but not before taking one last look at Black. The man didn’t give the young woman the happiest look. He definitely took her for an intruder.

"You're late, Frank." Hudson mentioned.

"Don't fucking tell me," Woods spat, walking past him.

Hudson watched Woods and Abby walk away. He knew there was something different about Frank. He wasn't his most precious person but he knew him well. Woods had his usual bad mood around Hudson… but something was different. He didn't know what yet, but he did know the reason. He looked at the young woman accompanying the sergeant. They seemed to be talking, Woods' expression always relaxed a little every time he looked at the kid. Despite the situation he was in.

When Hudson heard that story about Woods and the girl, he almost laughed. But now that he saw it with his own eyes, perhaps over the years Frank had unearthed his softer side. After all, he was the only one who lived to grow old.

"I don't trust her." Black mentioned staying next to Hudson. "We're being naïve, Hudson. We don't know her intentions, if our suspicions are true..."

Hudson took a while to answer, he was immersed in his thoughts. Many things were running through his head.

"We'll know soon."

Abby looked around. They seemed to have reached an underground level. It looked like a bunker, the walls were concrete, there were no windows. It was a boring hallway with doors on the sides.

"This looks like a fucking bunker," Abby mentioned looking around.

This time Woods didn't answer her. His mind seemed to be somewhere else, his expression was serious, he was frowning and clenching his jaw. Abby was starting to worry, where were they going? What was going to become of her?

They ended up reaching the end of the hallway, a large dark wooden door stood before them. Woods grabbed the doorknob but Abby stopped him before opening it.

"Sir."

He turned around.

"What's this all about?" Abby's face showed some concern, and it squeezed Frank's heart. Abby looked like a lost fawn disoriented in the middle of the road. But he couldn't do anything, just sit and wait for the fawn to be run over. The least he could do was teach her how to defend herself or maybe how to cross the road.

He sighed through his nose.

"Listen Abs..." Woods was about to give her a speech about what was happening and what he thought about this whole fucking disaster, in the end he didn't say anything. He didn't want to scare her any more than she already was. "Just don't let yourself be trampled on and choose your words well."

Abby didn't have time to answer, Woods opened the door and entered. When she entered she found a meeting room, it was similar to the one in the White House. A huge, long wooden table was in the middle, surrounded by chairs that looked quite comfortable. There were tons of documents scattered across the table. There was a three-dimensional hologram projecting from the center of the table, looking like classified documents. The hologram disappeared as soon as those present in that room became aware of the young woman's presence, so Abby could not see what it was about.

There were people sitting around the table, some of whom she already knew or had already told her their names. Abby recognized the man with the russian accent and the eyepatch, she didn't know his name yet but she remembered his face well, it was him who saved her life after all. She also recognized that man with the scar on his face, Adler, if Abby remembered correctly. His hand was bandaged because of the fight they both had a few hours ago. Abby didn't feel guilty for stabbing his hand, she was defending herself. He knew who she was and still decided to attack her like that, it wasn't his fault. Next to him was also that British woman, she didn't seem to belong there. She didn't look like she was from the CIA, MI6 maybe? If so, she was very far from home.

On the other side Woods sat next to Alex Mason. Abby's stomach flipped at the sight of him. If it was hard to believe Woods was alive, seeing Alex Mason alive was even harder. She was seeing her grandfather, her real grandfather. She hadn't had a conversation with him since the first meeting. It felt uncomfortable to talk to someone with whom you are so close and at the same time is a complete stranger to you. Still, Abby could see certain traits in Mason, which she also saw in her father, even in herself. The Mason family genes are strong. Abby didn't really know how to feel, her feelings were too mixed up.

Both Mason looked at each other for a few long seconds that seemed eternal. Until the last two remaining people entered.

Hudson sat next to Mason and Woods while Black stood at the head of the table. Abby didn't like the situation at all. Was this going to be an interrogation? The silence was very tense.

"You can have a seat," Black offered, pretending to be interested in the classified documents on the table.

"I'd rather stay standing, thank you." Abby replied with a dry tone. Implying that she wasn’t going to follow his orders no matter how simple they were. She wasn't going to fall for his game.

Black looked at her over his glasses, he didn't have a friendly expression. Abby didn't look away, she wasn't going to act like a scared kid.

"What is this all about?" Abby asked, looking at everyone present with a frown.

Adler left the cigarette between his lips for a moment to take out the flash drive and leave it on the table. He didn't say anything, just continued smoking and maintaining a neutral expression.

Suddenly Abby's insides twisted just looking at the flash drive. Memories of everything she had to go through to protect that flash drive came back to her mind as if a boxer hit her square in the stomach. She unconsciously stroked her fingers with missing nails. Her breathing became heavy, she even forgot how to blink.

Woods noticed Abby's sudden change in attitude. He took a quick look at Mason, who also looked at him in silence. Frank didn't have a good feeling.

"The USB device." Black spoke again. "Where did you get it from?"

Abby didn't take her eyes off the flash drive.

"And what does that matter...? You already have it, right?"

"That excuse doesn't work for us, kid." Adler took another drag on his cigarette and leaned his back on the seat. "Make things easier for all of us. And there will be no need to take any other type of measures" he looked discreetly at Woods and Mason.

Other types of measures?

Frank looked at him like he wanted to rip out his throat. It was funny, he and Adler used to be good friends. They had been through a lot of shit together, but now after all those years he didn't give a shit. Not after the decision Russ made.

"Is that a threat, Scarface?" Abby attacked, causing Adler to look back at her.

"Take it however you want kid."

"Abby..." Park tried to intervene. The conversation was beginning to get agitated.

"Did you steal it?" Adler insisted.

"Steal it?! I never asked to have that flash drive!" Abby laughed bitterly. She was starting to get nervous. Were they really accusing her? "Do you think I'm fucking capable of doing something like that?!"

"After seeing you try to run away from the CIA and knock almost all of the guards unconscious. Yeah, I think so." Adler took a drag on his cigarette. "Besides, you were the last person to talk to the President before she disappeared."

"She gave it to me!" Abby was very upset and started to get angry. Who was that idiot to accuse her like that?!

"You? Who in their right mind would give classified information to a girl like you?"

"Adler." Park tried to get his attention, if he kept pressuring the girl to talk, he wasn't going to achieve anything.

Oh but Adler ignored her. He was ready to break her to confess everything. He didn't believe a single word of her. He stood up and walked towards her.

"answer me."

"Fuck you."

"Adler, don't fucking touch her!" Woods got up too.

"Woods sit down," Hudson ordered.

Abby's breathing was beginning to become more labored. Her adrenaline levels began to skyrocket, her vision becoming blurry. The memories of those days she was tied in that chair. Abby could swear she still felt the pressure on her wrists, the wire around her neck.

"You know… the true definition of insanity…"

Varl's words repeated over and over in her head. She felt the hands of the rotting corpses at the bottom of the river grabbing her legs. If Abby looked down, she could even see those hands come out of the ground to pull her down with them.

Adler kept accusing her of stealing the flash drive, and other things that she didn't understand. Park had also gotten up trying to stop Adler.

"Adler! Abby is not psychologically recovered, you can't–!"

"Answer me! Where did you get the flash drive?"

Woods was ready to hit Adler if he kept pressuring Abby like that.

"Don't you fucking dare Adler!"

"Woods, that's enough!"

"Move over Hudson!"

Mason got up too, Hudson couldn't handle Woods alone.

The hands of the corpses began to climb Abby's legs, she was short of breath, her lungs began to fill with water and the wire began to squeeze her neck.

Black sighed, seeing the chaos that meeting had become. Weaver sat there not really knowing what to do.

Adler continued to approach Abby.

"Adler!"

"I doubt the president would have just given you the USB, kid. What did you do to Bosworth?!"

"THE PRESIDENT IS DEAD!"

Abby ended up exploding with anger.

"I fucking killed her!"

Suddenly the room was filled with a heavy silence.

Abby was getting dizzy, she felt her heartbeat in her ears, deafening everything around her. She couldn't breathe. She had to sit down, her blurry vision riveted to her trembling hands. She wasn’t able to stop the shaking.

She never thought much about Bosworth, perhaps because she didn't have time to. She was too busy trying to get out of there alive. In fact, she was trying to blame the president for what had happened to her, but if she thought about it... What would she have done in her place? Bosworth was between a rock and a hard place, save a girl or save the world. What would Abby have done in her situation? Maybe the same? She would never know. But what she did know was that Bosworth didn't deserve to die that way. If only Abby had…

Suddenly all the anger she felt turned into sadness, regret and frustration.

Fuck…

"Or at least… it was my fault she died." She shook her head.

Everyone looked at each other, in silence. Not knowing what to say.

"We were so close... If only I had held on a little longer. If only I hadn't let go of the flash drive... She..."

"Abs..." Frank was the first to break the silence.

Abby raised her head, her green eyes shining with tears threatening to fall.

Woods gritted his teeth. Abby looked defeated, hurt. And he knew he couldn't do anything. His chest tightened just remembering the state Abby arrived in when Weaver found her. God, he would have given the whole world to protect her. But now she was there, tossing pieces, unable to pick up all the pieces.

Adler pursed his lips and without saying anything returned to his seat to smoke in silence. He had done it, that was not what he expected but he managed to break down Abby's walls. And now information will flow like water in a river. Apparently that had been easier, the kid had too much temperament, it was very easy to get under her skin and press the appropriate buttons, the syringes wouldn’t be necessary.

"Are you saying... that the president... is dead?" Black couldn't believe it. This whole thing was a fucking disaster. He ran his hand through his hair and paced around the room trying to calm himself down.

Abby nodded without looking at him.

"What happened?" This time it was Mason who spoke. Clearly curious and worried at the same time. Abby was too young to go through that. Damn, no one should have to go through that. And Alex knew it well.

Abby simply held up a hand, showing the absence of nails. That was a sufficient answer.

"I hid the flash drive. Between the inside of the cheek and the teeth, it was small enough that they wouldn't notice it." Her eyebrows began to tremble. "I was tied to that chair for..." she closed her eyes trying to remember "umh..."

"Two days and eleven hours," Weaver suddenly said, "was how long it took us to find her after the incident at the White House. Truly a miracle, we found her on the shore of the Potomac River."

Abby nodded.

"Did they torture you both?" Black asked.

"No, just me. They made her watch."

"Motherfuckers." Woods swore into the air, shaking his head and gripping the armrests of the chairs tightly. More and more as he listened to the story.

"They believed that if they hurt me enough, Bosworth would end up telling the truth." Abby pointed to her neck, still marked by the wire. "In the end they got tired of waiting and wanted to speed things up. To prevent them from ending up killing me, Bosworth lied."

"What did she say?" Park asked this time.

Abby closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember. It was difficult since at that moment she was trying not to die.

"Huh... She said the flash driveDrive was still in the White House"

"But actually you had it." Adler pointed the cigarette at her.

Abby gave him a dirty look, she didn't like that man. He was hiding something, he wasn't acting sincere, it seemed like he was always one step ahead of everyone. But she sighed and answered.

"The president gave me the flash drive before the White House completely went to shit. They told me to give it to my father."

"Dave?" Woods leaned forward. He shared a quick glance with Mason.

Abby nodded.

"A simple intermediary, the flash drive was to be delivered to us" Adler spoke again.

"We need to process all the information inside in order to take our next step." Park added.

"If what you're worried about is the Black Out project. Yes, it's all in there. With... the rest of the files, the experiments, the laboratories, and all that shit"

"Did you open the documents on the flash drive?" Adler couldn't believe it. When he thought that kidl couldn't surprise him anymore, she always did. "Do you have any idea how serious this all is?"

"You think I don't know, asshole? I had to make sure I recovered all the data."

"Recover?" Park asked.

Abby sighed and continued telling her story.

"They used a wire around my neck. When Bosworth finished lying they let me go and I started coughing. The USB fell out. They realized the president had lied and killed her before she could do anything." Abby paused and shook her head, still feeling guilty about everything. But she knew they didn't want to hear her sorrows, only what really happened. "They wanted to get rid of me too but it seemed like they wanted to play with me some more, so they shot me in the stomach. They left me alone with a guard. That guy started processing the information in the central computer. I don't know if he ever sent the information to the rest.

"the rest?"

"Yes, um... I don't know very well, it was a group of Hyenas that tortured me."

Adler sighed through his nose as he massaged his temples with the hand holding the cigarette.

"The Hyenas are the dogs of Perseus..."

"Do you think they sent the USB data to Perseus?" Hudson asked.

"It’s very probable." Adler responded.

Abby didn't know what to answer. But she kept telling her story.

"I managed to untie myself from the chair and killed the guy. I transferred the data to the USB again and deleted it from the computer"

"We found the USB after performing several medical tests on you." Park took a look at some documents, they looked like the results of some blood tests and a CT scan.

"I didn't have much time to think. I removed the bullet from my abdomen and inserted the flash drive into the bullet wound. Then I stitched it up. I thought that if they caught me again at least they wouldn't find the flash drive so easily."

Woods' mouth twisted. He knew perfectly well how much it hurt to take out a bullet by yourself. And that Abby had to do it, even without knowing why she had to protect that flash drive. Without knowing the reason why she was going through that...

Damn, Abby's just a kid.

"And you managed to escape." Adler finished the story.

"No." Abby interrupted him. "I tried, but they found me. They thought it would be fun to tie me to a rock and throw me into the Potomac River."

"That explains the severe hypothermia." Weaver mentioned.

"I managed to cut the rope and–..." Abby paused for a moment. "What's that?"

She looked at a document. It looked like someone's personal file. It had a small photograph attached to the documents. It was the man with the white eye.

Adler realized what she was looking at and removed the documents from the table.

"We didn't bring you here to stick your nose where you shouldn't." He was becoming increasingly suspicious of the girl's attitude. Maybe they should use syringes.

"Who is it?" Abby asked, not caring about Adler or Black's threatening glare.

"Abs..." Woods called after her as he discreetly shook his head. If Abby kept this up, things could end badly. Frank had to get her out of there as soon as possible.

But there was something in Abby that told her she had to insist. That man, she had to know who he was. After all, he was the one who authorized Varl to torture her.

"Do you know who that guy is?" Abby insisted.

Adler stood up. This was already too much. Woods and Mason could try to convince him of anything they wanted, but they would get nowhere. He could no longer trust that kid's word.

"Park, tell Sims."

"Adler!" Woods got up too, he was pissed.

"Time's up. Now we'll do it my way."

"This is not what we agreed to." Mason interjected.

Another argument was going to start but everyone fell silent when Hudson stood up without saying anything. He took that small photograph, separated it from the documents, and placed it in front of Abby.

"Do you know this man?"

Adler pursed his lips and looked away.

Abby took the photo between her fingers. In that photo the man was without the gas mask and hood. But that white eye is unmistakable.

"I've seen this guy." She muttered, frowning.

So at that moment he gained Adler's full attention.

"What did you just say?"

"He was wearing a gas mask and a hood but it was the same man. He came into the room for a moment. He seemed to be in charge or something."

Hudson sighed. "We're late then."

"Why? Is he perhaps an undead like you? Because he has a dead face?" Abby asked. But everyone's somber expression already answered her question.

Oh shit…

Black put both fists on the table. "Things have just changed"

"Have those assholes already used the Black out project?" Woods raised his voice.

"Fuck…"

"That means..." Abby looked everyone in the eye with a confused expression. "What I did was of no use?"

"Not at all," Hudson replied. "We still have the rest of the files. We can get information from laboratories, bunkers, and HQs. You name it, we know that Madam President added more vital data on the flash drive apart from the Black out project. We are still one step ahead"

"There is still work to do." Adler said, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray.

Abby could hear little more of the conversation. She was removed from the meeting room when she was no longer useful. Although the look behind Adler's sunglasses said otherwise. Alex offered to keep an eye on her. So now both Mason walked in an enormously awkward silence.

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

She lied, she was starving. She had spent two days on the streets of Chicago trying to figure out how to get out of there, after having been in a coma for a severe number of days. Abby was actually surprised how she could still stand.

"Where are you taking me?" Abby asked. Alex could be her biological grandfather but she still didn't trust him.

Mason turned to look at her for a moment and smiled slightly. "To eat something."

There was another long, awkward silence. Walking through the hallways. People kept giving Abby dirty looks. They continued to see her as an intruder.

"They keep looking at me like I killed someone," she muttered to herself.

"Well, considering you tried to run away with classified information and knocked out half the guard…" Mason tried to say it like it was a joke but earned a dirty look from Abby.

"I didn't even know you were the fucking CIA!" Abby complained "I was just doing what I was supposed to do." She walked with her hands in her pants pockets and looked at the ground.

"I get it kid"

Mason sighed. He understood her. She was just doing what she had been asked to do. And yet she had become the villain of the movie. He also went through the same thing in a way. Vorkuta, Reznov, Steiner, Dragovich, Kravchenko…

Flashes of red numbers blinded his eyes for a moment, his anxiety and adrenaline levels rose for just a few seconds until he heard his granddaughter's voice.

"Hey. Everything okay?" For a moment Abby noticed the sudden change in Mason's expression.

Alex managed to hide it well. "Yeah, don't worry. Side effects of being undead." He lied.

Abby raised a curious eyebrow. For a moment she put aside her defensive attitude.

"How long have you been alive... for the second time?"

"I'm afraid that's classified."

"Is everything classified here?" Abby complained. The lack of information made her nervous. She couldn't prepare herself for what the future was going to bring. She didn't even know what was going to happen to her in five minutes.

"Unfortunately yes."

"Even the shoe size you wear?"

Mason chuckled "you'd be surprised."

"That makes no sense! Why would the shoe size be classified information?! Is it that some terrorist is going to steal your boots?"

Eventually they arrived at a small, makeshift Dining Hall. There were a few agents scattered around the tables, eating and talking. It was late at night, there were a few soldiers.

"Sit wherever you want, I'll be right back." And Mason was gone in seconds.

"And where are you supposed to go-?!" Abby lost sight of him before she could finish her sentence. "And you call this keeping an eye on me?" Abby murmured as she sat at a table, away from everyone, but having a good view of the entire place, the people and the exits.

She still felt like an intruder. Everyone looked at her and whispered. It seemed like the rumor had spread like wildfire. Maybe the CIA wasn't so good at keeping secrets. She felt watched, small and helpless. She had the urge to grab one of the butter knives to use as a weapon in case someone approached.

"Good place" Finally she heard Mason's voice again, along with the exquisite smell of a meat stew. The smell of food was enormously familiar.

It smelled like home.

Mason put the plate in front of Abby and then sat down in front of her.

"Did you cook that?" Abby was incredibly surprised and bewildered. It was like when you smell a smell that reminds you of your childhood but you don't know where it comes from, and it gives you a huge feeling of nostalgia.

"It's my own recipe. Well, my wife helped me perfect it years ago. I cooked it this morning, I hope it tastes just as good."

Abby took the fork and didn't hesitate to take the first bite. When the taste hit her mouth, Abby could swear she almost melted right there. For a moment she felt like she had traveled ten years ago.

"And?" Mason asked curiously.

"It tastes like the stew Woods used to make." Abby answered with her mouth full. Gobbling down the food and forgetting about manners completely.

Mason snorted through his nose.

"That's because I taught him how to cook it. If it weren't for me, Frank would have lived on fast food all his life." Mason took another bite.

"Hey. Burger Town isn't that bad. I used to sneak out with the old man at two in the morning for a couple of burgers. Although my mom caught us a couple of times." She pointed the fork at Mason.

Alex chuckled and shook his head. "Why does it not surprise me?"

There was another long silence. This time it was more comfortable. Both Mason ate quietly, well, at least the eldest Mason, Abby devoured like there was no tomorrow.

Alex looked at Abby for a moment, she looked a lot like David. She had the same eyes, the same ears, even the same nose. Or at least what he remembered of little Dave. An inappropriate feeling of nostalgia and regret flooded him, but he knew how to hide it well.

"Hey…" Mason tried to start another conversation. "I realized what happened to you. At the meeting."

Abby looked up from her finished plate. Alex could see Abby's eyes harden again, frowning. She was raising her defenses again. Was Mason crossing a line he wasn't supposed to cross yet? Had the conversation become too personal?

"I know you saw things we haven't been able to see. You kept looking at your boots and the ground." Mason tried to sound as non-invasive as possible. He knew what Abby was going through, the post-traumatic stress disorder, the hallucinations, the dark circles under her eyes due to the nightmares, the constant twitching in her leg due to anxiety, the lack of breathing... And he knew that it was a delicate subject. Abby was too young to go through that alone. "You said they tried to get rid of you. In the Potomac River. You didn't talk much about it but... what happened in the river..."

Abby's hard look soon turned into a glare.

"With all due respect, sir." The tone Abby used didn't seem to hold any kind of respect, it sounded aggressive. "You and I may share blood. But that doesn't make us family. You are a complete stranger to me and I am a complete stranger to you." She narrowed her eyes as if she wanted to stab him with just her look. "So you mind your fucking business and I'll do the same with mine."

Yes, Mason had definitely crossed a line. That made Mason understand that what was happening to Abby was worse than he thought. But Alex wasn’t affected by the kid's warnings. She had the same lone wolf attitude as him in his youth.

"Mason." A third voice appeared.

They both turned when they heard their name.

Hudson remained silent for a few minutes, slightly confused.

Oh…

Then he looked at the older man.

"The helo is ready. You leave in twenty minutes. Gear up."

Mason nodded.

"Well, duty calls," Alex sighed, getting up from the table. "Adler is waiting?"

"And he doesn't seem to be in a good mood."

Mason looked over and gave a little smile. "I think I know what the reason is"

Abby rolled her eyes. "It's not my fucking fault he's a fucking asshole."

Mason chuckled.

"Be careful Hudson. The kid bites." Mason said goodbye and left, grabbing the plates to leave them in the kitchen and get ready for the mission.

"I'll keep that in mind," Hudson replied without any thanks.

There was silence.

Abby didn't like the bald man too much. Too serious, too much ice cube attitude. She also couldn't know what was going on behind those sunglasses. She couldn't predict it, maybe that's why she liked him less.

She didn't like being there. It might be the CIA, but it was still a hostile place for her. What was she? A prisoner? A hostage? A guest? All that uncertainty made her hair stand on end. And as much as it hurt to leave Woods behind, and maybe her biological grandfather too, she had to get out of there. If she stayed there, she would never be able to find her father. She was fighting against time. At the moment she knew that David was in Washington DC, but she didn't know how long he was going to stay there. Those thoughts flitted through her head ever since she set foot in the building again. She had to find some way to…

"Shall we go for a walk?" Hudson interrupted her thoughts.

"Do I have any other options?"

"No."

Reluctantly Abby stood up. They walked in silence, Abby didn't know where the man was taking her, or even what he was up to. But she took advantage of the trip to take note of the place, make a mental map of the rooms, hallways. Of the CIA personnel, the number of guards, the security systems. Everything that could make her escape difficult.

She, too, wondered where Woods was. Has the meeting ended?

In the end they went up to the last floor, this time up the stairs, to the floor where Abby was hospitalized during the time she was unconscious. At the end of the hallway was a small seating area, with a couple of couches, a coffee table, and some plants. The windows were wide open, a soft cold breeze drifting through the room. Abby felt that this was the coziest place in the entire building.

"It's not very convenient to have the windows open considering how much it costs to heat an entire building, in the season of the year we are in, and the limited resources there are," Abby mentioned, approaching the window.

"It's good to get fresh air from time to time"

"That's true. Knowing that there are still people who smoke indoors..." Abby remembered the smell of tobacco that filled the meeting room. She wanted to make Adler swallow his own cigarette.

Abby leaned out the window, resting both arms on the edge. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the cold air from outside. It was like a reward after having been stuck inside that prison with four walls.

It was night, so she couldn't quite make out the Chicago skyline. But she could see the military camp that had been set up right in front of the building. Huge spotlights illuminated tents, helicopters, trucks, soldiers... It reminded her of the bases of operations or camps in the Vietnam photographs that old Woods showed her from time to time. It also resembled the exterior facilities of the White House.

Were there also Wolves in Chicago?

Abby took note of everything she was seeing. She planned possible escape routes in silence.

Suddenly a helicopter was heard starting its engines. Abby looked over there. Sure enough, there was a helicopter that was preparing to fly. There was a small group of men nearby. She recognized Mason and Adler, and the woman. They seemed to be getting ready for a mission.

"Do they have a mission?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Where are they going?"

"It's classified"

"Of course it's classified…" Abby sighed.

The young woman realized that Adler had found them. He was staring at her, Abby didn't look away either, trying to figure out what was going on behind those sunglasses. It was a long-distance staring fight. Abby knew that Adler was going to be the main problem for her escape plan. She had to take advantage now that he was leaving on a mission.

"I know what you're up to." Hudson spoke without looking at her.

Abby broke eye contact with Adler to look at the man next to her.

"What are you talking about?"

"You look at every corner of the ceiling every time you enter a room. You don't take your eyes off the guards or the exits." Hudson ended up looking her in the eyes. "You try to escape."

Abby swallowed and looked away at the tents below again. He had caught her.

"And what are you going to do? Lock me up?" Abby spoke in a low, serious tone.

"No." Hudson crossed his arms. "I’m going to help you."

That really caught Abby off guard.

"What?" Abby blinked in confusion.

"You heard me"

"Why would you do that? What's in it for you?" Abby was stunned.

"One less worry. That's what I get. I know you're smart enough to understand that this isn't your place, you don't belong here." Hudson spoke in a serious and stoic tone. "You've done your job, you're of no use to us anymore. You have to get out of here before things get too bad for you."

"What are you going to do to me if I stay? Shoot me and bury me in a mass grave? I'm a loose end after all, right?" Abby joked without any humor.

"I'd rather leave this loose end than tie it up." Hudson's cold expression indicated that it could be much worse than a simple shooting.

"And why do you care about me? I'm just an interrogation subject, right?"

"I don't care about you. I care about the mission. You'll cause too much trouble if you stay."

"Are you saying that because of Woods and Mason?" Abby looked back at her grandfather who was talking to Adler.

"Partly yes."

There were a few seconds of silence. Abby didn't know what to say or how to feel.

"And also because you must return to your father." Hudson took off his sunglasses. "That's what you want, right?"

Abby sighed and looked down. She began to play with her fingers and the nails that still remained.

"That's right…"

"A small convoy will leave tomorrow at midnight to send supplies to the surveillance perimeter. This will be your chance to get out of Chicago without being seen. Sneak into the back of the last truck among the cargo. Weaver will help you. The convoy will make a stop in a guard post just before leaving Chicago. Once you have left the city I will not be able to help you further. I will leave you a backpack with weapons and supplies for the trip." Hudson explained walking away from the window.

Abby tried to memorize everything the CIA agent had told her.

"Why go to all that trouble? Just help me out of this building and that's it." Abby turned to Hudson not really trusting his plan. It could very well be a trap.

"Because they will find you once you set foot on those streets alone. There are hundreds of eyes watching from the rooftops." Hudson rested both hands on her hips. "And when Russ finds out you've escaped, he won't hesitate to hunt you down, kid."

"Russ?"

"Scarface."

Abby looked back at the helicopter. Adler was looking at them again, it seemed as if he was able to hear the conversation from a distance. But those were just Abby's imaginations.

"You seem very confident that I will obey your plan. What makes you think that I won't take advantage of it to steal the flash drive and give it to that white-eyed fucker?" Abby crossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

"I don't trust you. I trust our mutual interest. And…" he looked away for a moment, putting on his sunglasses again, always with that cold countenance. "As much as it's hard for me to say. I trust Woods. I know he did a good job on you."

___________

The sun was beginning to set between the buildings to the west. The air gradually became colder as the sunlight diminished. The snow was enveloped by the orange tones of the sunset.

Abby sighed, she had been there for hours, sitting on a ventilation shaft on the roof. Trying to calm the nerves. There were a few hours left to start the escape plan.

If she let anxiety win she would already be crossing the frozen Lake Michigan on foot. But she decided to trust Hudson. Maybe it was a terrible idea. But what else could she do? It was the only plan she had to escape.

She took a deep breath, trying to undo the knot in her stomach. She looked down, looking at her arms, she rolled up her sleeves, so she could feel the cold a little more. It could even be pleasant, it was nothing compared to the cold she felt on the bank of the Potomac River, that was like billions of needles sticking into her skin.

On that roof, Abby felt alone, she felt the loneliness crushing her shoulders. As if she was really the only one who understood her situation, that she was the only one who could help herself. Maybe that was the best way.

Solitude.

She caressed her forearms. She still had the wire marks on her wrists; the nurse had removed the bandages from her arms that same morning. Showing the now darkened burns, the skin was tender but no longer painful to the touch of clothing. Her ribs still hurt, they were still a few weeks away from fully healing. She tried to ignore the throbbing pain all the time, sometimes it was easier than others.

"You almost died of fucking hypothermia in that river. And you're not covered well. Don't you learn, kid?"

Someone covered her head with a jacket.

"Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?!" Abby got upset.

When she took her coat off her head she realized that Woods was next to her watching the sun go down while lighting a cigarette.

"Put on your damn jacket, you're going to catch a cold." Frank ordered, placing the cigarette between his lips.

Abby reluctantly obeyed.

"Bad habit never dies,huh?"

"What?"

"You keep smoking."

"Abs... From all the love I have deep in my heart... mind your fucking business." He responded seriously, taking another drag on the cigarette.

Abby chuckled.

"Yes, Sarge."

They were silent for a while. Abby watched as the sun set on the horizon and Woods watched the young woman's nervous hands, which were playing tirelessly.

"I've been looking for you everywhere. What are you doing up here?"

"I needed to be alone for a while."

Frank sighed, exhaling all the smoke. "Come on, spit it out."

Abby looked at him again, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Woods ended up sitting next to her.

"You've got too much shit in your head," he tapped Abby's temple a few times with his finger. "What's wrong Abs?"

Abby looked down and thought about what to say for a moment. Woods waited patiently.

"Have you ever felt like if you hadn't done a certain thing everything would be very different?"

Oh Woods knew it well. There were so many things he wanted to change about the past.

"Abigail…" Woods called after her. "It wasn’t your fault."

"But it could have been different if I had–!"

"If you had done what?!" Woods interrupted her. "You were being tortured, for something that didn't even concern you. There is no 'I should have done this or that’"

Abby looked down at her hands, not knowing what to answer.

Woods realized that perhaps he was too direct. He smoked a little more and looked at the sun.

"Listen Abs... no one prepared you for what you had to go through. There’s no way you were prepared for that. No one is, not even me, or your grandfather, or... bowman."

Silence.

"Do you miss him?" Abby looked up again.

"Whom?"

"Bowman"

Woods sighed "with each passing day."

Another silence.

"I've missed you too kid."

Abby smiled a little. Now leaving that place was going to be more difficult. It pained her to leave old Woods behind again. But each one had to take their own path.

"You've changed a lot since the last time I saw you." Woods stood up. He finished his cigarette, threw the butt on the ground and put it out with his boot.

Frank smiled and without warning Abby began to ruffle the strands of her hair.

"When did you cut your hair?!"

"Woods!" Abby was surprised by the sudden weight of his hand on her head.

She started laughing harder and harder as Frank continued to ruffle her hair.

"What are you doing old man?!"

Woods smirked as he heard Abby laugh again. Frank chuckled and decided he had bothered the girl enough.

"It suits you. I like it."

Abby smiled.

"Thank you. I had gotten tired of having long hair, it got in the way too much."

"How long has it been since you cut it like that?"

"Three years."

"And what did your father say?"

"He was confused for a while, but he ended up accepting it."

Woods smiled "rebellious girl huh?"

"I have a reputation to uphold"

The sun ended up hiding completely. Only the last rays of sun remained, a last vestige of light, giving way to the long night.

"It's getting late. We should go in." Woods commented looking at the horizon. "Are you hungry?"

"Oh fuck yeah."

"Then let's go inside."

The hours passed terribly slowly, until finally the moment arrived. It was now or never. Abby managed to mislead Woods, losing sight of him. As soon as she could, she slipped away and headed to the armory, according to Hudson. Weaver would be waiting for her there.

When she entered, a sniper rifle was tossed towards her. Luckily she was able to catch it on the fly.

"Is this the one you stole?" Weaver's russian accent echoed through the empty armory.

There was a huge amount of weapons on the middle table. All the walls were full of weapons of all kinds, on shelves, hanging on the walls, displayed... It looked like a museum dedicated to gunpowder.

"Huh… yeah. I think so..." Abby answered looking at the hunting rifle in her hands.

Weaver paced the room, grabbing a pistol and several magazines, both for the rifle and for the pistol.

"A 9mm will be good for you." Weaver put everything on the table. "Which one do you prefer? A Glock G19 or a Sig Sauer P226?"

"Eh… I don't know much about weapons. I was just taught how to use them."

Weaver nodded.

"Then the Glock."

He placed the gun along with a backpack that was also on the table.

Abby approached the backpack curiously.

"In there there is ammunition, provisions, water, warm clothing, a flint and a hunting knife." Weaver explained. "Will you need anything else?"

Abby thought about it for a moment, trying to remember everything she carried when traveling with her father.

"Do you have a bow and arrows?" Abby asked. She was not yet very skilled with the Bow, but it would serve her well if she had to hunt.

Weaver pointed his finger at her. "That's a good idea. I'll bring a silencer for the gun too."

The man looked for them, found them and added them to the rest.

"Let's add this, in case things get complicated..." Weaver placed a Tomahawk on the table.

Abby opened her eyes in surprise.

"A... Tomahawk?"

"Do you know how to use it?"

"It's not very complicated."

Weaver chuckled.

"Well, I think everything is ready. Come on, arrange things however you want. There isn't much time, the convoy will leave soon."

Abby started putting everything into her backpack. And she began to tie the long weapons with the straps on both sides of the backpack.

"Why are you doing this?" Abby asked. She still didn't really understand what was happening.

Weaver looked at her for a moment.

"You better get out of here before Adler gets back, girl." The somber tone of voice Weaver used didn't sound like a threat, more like advice. "He doesn't believe your version of events, and he won't hesitate to find the truth, if there is another one."

"Is he going to drug me or brainwash me?" Abby joked trying to hide her nervousness.

"Don't doubt it for a second." He answered very seriously. Abby's nervous smile fell, as if she had been hit in the face with cold water. "Your family and Hudson have managed to avoid it for a while by arranging that meeting, to give you a chance, to give you the benefit of the doubt. But I'm not sure what will happen if you stay any longer."

Abby swallowed. Shit, she was really fucked.

"But first let's get you out of here, huh?" Weaver patted Abby's shoulder.

Abby nodded, staring at her backpack.

She ended up putting on her leather bomber jacket and slinging her backpack over her shoulders.

She sighed.

"I'm ready."

Sneaking into the convoy didn’t seem like an easy task. Abby hid behind a cargo box. The line of vehicles was already waiting, ready to hit the streets of Chicago. Weaver stood next to the boxes, arms crossed, acting as if nothing was happening, as if there was no one hiding behind them.

"I'll distract the guards. Act when you think it's the best time. But don't think about it too much, I won't be able to talk to them forever."

"Understood." Abby nodded.

"From there you will have to go alone. No one else will be able to help you." Weaver sighed.

"I know."

Abby glanced around the building. What would Woods be doing? Would he be worried? Would he be looking for her? Wondering where Abs was? A feeling of guilt tightened her chest. She wished she could say goodbye to him. Do it right, and don't sneak away without saying anything.

"Hey." Abby called to Weaver, "Thank you. For helping me and…" she took a breath, "for saving my life."

Weaver understood what she was talking about. "I won't accept your thanks until you've returned to your father. So you better not die. Otherwise it would have been a waste of time to get you out of that river."

Abby smiled and nodded.

"It's time. Good luck girl"

"Good luck to you too."

And Weaver left, arriving with the drivers and soldiers waiting for orders next to the convoy. He started talking to them. Meanwhile, Abby made sure there were no prying eyes nearby and when she thought the time was right, she came out of hiding.

She snuck into the back of the last truck, among the cargo, just as Hudson told her. And she waited. After a while she heard voices and the engines started. The truck began to shake and shortly after hearing a guard give permission for the convoy to move forward. The truck started to move.

Abby took a deep breath. There was no coming back. She left Woods behind, she left Mason behind. Although she didn't know him well, he was her biological grandfather, and although she didn't consider him family yet, a feeling of sadness overwhelmed her.

What would he think of David? Or what would David think of him?

Maybe that was a question that could never be answered.

Abby didn't know how much time passed. Hours? Surely so, how many? She didn't know. Her body ached from being in the same position for too long, cowering between boxes of supplies and weapons.

She sighed, hoping that this would end soon, when suddenly the truck stopped. They must have reached the guard post. Just outside of Chicago. Abby hurried out of the truck. Surely they were going to do a check, check that what they were carrying was correct and that there were no unforeseen events.

After Abby made sure no one was around, she jumped out of the truck. The boots crunched on the snow, She had to walk slowly and carefully so as not to make noise. Everything was dark, except for the huge spotlights of the guard post, the light blinded Abby's eyes, it was really annoying.

Voices were heard approaching, they were approaching from both sides of the convoy.

"Shit." Abby whispered.

She couldn't escape anywhere. So she did the first thing that came to mind. Hide under the truck. She lay down in the snow, right under the truck. She tried to keep her breathing slow and quiet as she watched a pair of boots approach the back of the truck. They carried flashlights.

"Damn, it's cold..." a guard cursed.

"The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can get back to warm up. So you take care of checking the last one, I'll talk to the driver" The second guard ordered.

Abby watched the two pairs of boots separate. She had to hurry and–...

But suddenly someone grabbed her leg and pulled her. Dragging her out from under the truck.

Abby struggled, trying to hit whoever was dragging her. A huge hand managed to immobilize her wrists and another covered her mouth so she wouldn't scream.

She thrashed around trying to free herself from his grip until she finally looked her captor in the eyes. Abby pulled away and opened her eyes in surprise.

How?!

The distant light of the spotlights illuminated only one side of his face. But she could still see the blue glint in his eyes.

"Don’t talk." Woods ordered, removing his hand from Abby's mouth.

He grabbed her hand and helped her up. Abby didn't know what to say. How had he even managed to find her?!

He helped Abby up, made sure no one had seen them, and led her away. He dragged her through other streets until they finally left the border post. They reached a road that led to the outskirts. There was a truck waiting, alone, there wasn’t a soul.

Woods didn't speak until he reached the car and opened the door.

"Let’s go Abs, come in."

"I'm not getting into that truck." Abby took a couple steps back.

"Get in the fucking truck, Abigail." Woods ordered with a more enraged tone.

But Abby didn't move from her spot.

"What are you doing here?" Abby tried to hold her ground.

Woods sighed, he understood that Abby wasn’t going to listen to him just like that. As usual. She hadn't changed one bit. So he closed the door.

"Guess."

"Are you going to bring me back to the fucking CIA?" Abby growled.

"Do you really think I'm such a son of a bitch?" Frank frowned.

"No." Abby bit her tongue. No, Woods would never do that, he would never allow a single hair on her head to be touched. He promised her after all. "How did you know old man?"

"I asked Hudson when I lost sight of you. You know I can be… very persuasive." Woods forced a smile trying to lighten the situation.

But Abby didn't smile.

"You shouldn't be here." Abby murmured.

Woods' smile faded.

"No? And where am I supposed to be then?"

"I don't know. Saving the world?

"They can do it without me Kid"

"You're lying… You always said that you were the CIA's workhorse. You were the one who always did the dirty work." Abby made a pause "you've got a job to do. I don’t belong to that job."

"Do you really think that's more important than you?"

"Saving the fucking world? Stopping Perseus?! Yeah! I think that's more important than me!"

Woods took a breath and walked with determined steps towards the young woman. Imposing his large figure, making Abby take a couple more steps back.

"I didn't spend the last thirteen fucking years of my life taking care of you and raising you. For you to die alone in the middle of nowhere because of your selfish decision." He spoke in a serious tone. "You're better than that. Don't disappoint me, kid."

Abby was silent for a long time with her eyes lowered.

“Sorry sir…"

Frank sighed and put his hand on the side of Abby's head.

"Let's go find your father."

_____________________________________________

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efingart · 2 months

Text

Just What I Needed - Chapter 25

Word Count: 5043

Frank Woods x CoD Bell

Frank and Mila go on something that looks a lot like a date, but it isn't a date.

The plastic groaned in protest as Mila pressed the speaker closer to her ear. The record store fell away as the synth beat took hold of her. It was unlike any music she had ever heard. She could become lost in it. She was used to holding in her feelings, not giving away much that was on her mind. But the sound inexplicably made her want to move.

But how would anyone dance to this?

Mila’s eyes flicked up to the woman behind the counter. She was the one who had set up the tape player for her to listen. The counter was much higher than the floor, likely so she could quickly spot if anyone was pocketing one of the tiny cassette tapes. But for the most part, the woman looked bored. She flipped through some kind of booklet. Like a magazine, but there was a homemade quality to it—splotched black ink across its neon paper cover. The title hand written in black permanent marker. The woman tossed her head to get her pink-streaked bangs out of her eyes before ducking her head back down to read. The pink-streaked bangs fell back into her face.

Mila felt tension on one side of the headphones, drawing her gaze away from the woman. Frank tugged on one of the speakers, pulling it away and leaning into her, turning the speaker towards his own ear to listen.

“You like this?” He asked. His voice was loud as he tried to talk over the music thrumming in his ear. He listened for another moment before turning the speaker back around.

She pulled the headphones off and let them dangle from her neck.

“Yeah. You said I should pick something happier. Can’t get happier than that.”

Frank’s eyes traveled over her face, then he shrugged and turned to the woman behind the counter.

“This one, too,” He said. She didn’t respond, not even a nod. Still, she popped the tape out of the player, putting it back in its jewel case and adding it to the stack of music Mila had already accumulated.

“Anything else?” Frank asked Mila.

She shook her head and neatly placed the headphones on top of the tape player, then pushed the player towards the woman.

He dug into his back pocket for his wallet. Then, he shifted his attention to something behind the woman.

“One of those, too,” He said, pointing to a box on the wall behind her. In her bored way, she turned to the wall, picked up the box, and held it up to verify that it was what he wanted. He gave her a nod, and she began to ring up the items.

“Come with batteries?” He asked her as he studied the box. She shook her head. He sighed. “Course not.”

Mila watched this exchange with some curiosity. She couldn’t quite read the box, and the product name wasn’t giving anything away—something to do with walking. Frank counted out the bills and change, and the woman bagged their purchases.

“All right, come on,” He said, throwing an arm over her shoulder as he guided her out of the store. “Gotta make another stop.”

He pointed to a camera store across the street. In the wide front window, there was a large cardboard display. As they approached, Mila realized it resembled a camera. But not like one she had ever seen. There was a lens and a viewfinder, but the camera's base was long and flat. The design of it was so clunky she couldn’t understand why anyone would want to carry it around. Someone had cut a large slit across the base, and a flat sheet of cardboard with a photograph on it repeatedly slid in and out of the base.

Maybe it was advertising a new kind of development process?

But as she scanned the display she saw that the large camera was surrounded by boxes of the real thing.

She turned to ask Frank about them when she heard a click and a whirring sound. A man was standing in the shop doorway, one of the strange cameras in his hand.

“Just got the brand new model in today. Come in and take a look.”

Having a business owner so invested in speaking to them was odd. But the camera shop likely got its fair share of tourists, which may have motivated him to be friendlier. He handed her the paper that had come out of the camera.

She stared at it and turned it over—blank white on one side and black on the other. However, something was happening on the front of the paper. A splotch of brownish yellow was slowly developing.

“You’ve never seen an instant film camera before?”

She shook her head and tried to hand the paper back to the man, but he waved her off. “It’s yours, keep it.”

Frank interrupted their exchange and asked the man, “You got any batteries?”

The man led him into the small store. Mila stayed outside, watching the display continue its methodical movements.

After a moment, Frank stepped out again and dropped a pack of batteries into the paper bag.

“How’d it turn out?” He asked her, nodding towards the paper in her hand.

She looked down, and to her surprise, she was now holding a photo of her and Frank looking at the display.

“What-”

“Instant film, don’t ask me how it works. Em’s got one of those. She’s constantly taking pictures,” He said, shaking his head. “I’ve gotta have about a hundred of me holding David for the first time. I’ll show you.”

“Instant film,” She repeated and looked longingly at the display. She’d love to have a camera like that. She had enjoyed taking and developing pictures for the various missions the CIA had sent her on. And with her memory, it would be nice to have some kind of physical evidence of her life besides that old photo Frank had found. Feeling Frank’s eyes on her, she blinked and turned away from the display. The nice thing about Frank is that he never asked too many questions. He seemed to know that if she wanted to talk, she’d talk. He plucked the picture from her hands and tucked it into his front shirt pocket, giving the pocket a little pat.

“For safekeeping,” He said. Then he threw his arm back in a wave, gesturing her to keep it moving. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

“Burger Town?” She joked.

“You know I’ll never say no to that. One of these days, we gotta take you somewhere nice, I guess.”

“Not today,” She said.

He chuckled, “Not today.”

They sat at one of the outdoor tables in the sun. She couldn’t remember the last time she spent so much time in the sun. The bag of food was between them, and she watched him reach into it to pull out a burger. His knuckles were turning red, and a smattering of freckles had appeared on his hands. She hadn’t realized he freckled in the sun, but it made sense with his complexion. It gave her a warm feeling just to know something more about him. Something that wasn’t related to his job or military life.

Frank Woods freckles in the sun.

She cataloged the information away in her mind.

Mila reached into the bag for her burger and placed it on the table before her. Then she carefully peeled the wrapper away, smoothing it out on the table and creating a placemat for herself. She thought she heard Frank let out a soft chuckle, but when she glanced up, his soft gaze was focused behind her as he chewed his burger. Mila picked up her burger and was about to eat when a thought occurred to her.

“What’s that thing you bought? That needed batteries?” She asked, nodding towards the paper bag set next to him on the bench.

He held up a finger and reached for his drink as he chewed. Grasping the drink by the lid, two fingers on either side of the straw, he took a long sip. Then, he set his burger and the drink down and wiped his hands off in his jeans before he opened the bag.

“I figured if you’re gonna have your own music, maybe you don’t want to be tied to the stereo in the living room,” He said. Then, while looking at her pointedly, he added, “You can use the stereo in the living room anytime you want, though.”

When he said that, her eyes moved from the bag next to him to his face. Frank seemed to notice everything. Or maybe he had recognized one of his own habits in her. He knew she was trying to leave the smallest footprint in their apartment. A strategy she employed in the hopes that if he never felt like she was in the way, then her place there was safe. She shifted in her seat, somewhat uncomfortable with the feeling of being so seen by someone else. There was something else, too: comfort.

She ignored it and instead turned her focus back to Frank, who was moving his burger aside so he could place the box in front of him. He pulled out a pocket knife to break open the thick tape, holding the box shut. Then he opened the flap and grabbed hold of what was inside while tipping the box so that gravity would help him ease its contents out.

Inside was a smaller black box surrounded by styrofoam packaging and a small pair of black over-ear headphones. Frank flipped the styrofoam over onto his hand. He tossed the packaging back in the paper bag and dusted off the smaller black box. She could see it was made of heavy plastic. There were buttons on the top. Frank reached back into the paper bag, feeling around momentarily, before producing the pack of batteries. He popped off a panel in the back and put in four batteries. Then he took out one of the cassette tapes, popped its case open, and slipped it into a slot in the front of the box.

He plugged the headphones into the box and handed them to her.

“You can listen anywhere now.”

She put the headphones on. The sound wasn’t as good as in the record store or at the apartment, but it was nice to be able to listen anywhere. She noted he had put in the tape he recommended, Pat Benatar.

You’ll like this one, he had said at the store.

And he was right. She took a bite of her hamburger as she listened. She knew she could definitely enjoy listening while in her room at night. And maybe even between sessions.

“Like it?”

She nodded.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

He waved his hand, dismissing her comment.

“You might as well have some music wherever you want it.”

He stopped the tape.

“Thing drains batteries, though, I’ve got more for you, but just know that.”

She nodded again and removed the headphones. Frank gathered everything up and placed it in the bag.

“So what’s next?”

“I have an idea or two.”

Mila tilted her head curiously at him, but he didn’t elaborate.

Frank seemed to have his destination in mind, but occasionally, he would take them one way and have to backtrack. Then, he’d check the street name and head in the opposite direction. The place he was looking for must have been tucked away. Mila didn’t mind so much. It was good to be out and walking in the city. It had been some time since she had just walked around without purpose or hurry. She glanced around at the other people around them. This is what they did. She had yet to conjure up something more mundane from her adult or teenage years. Always running and fighting. Not being able to show her face in her home country meant long strolls in the park were risky. She had vague memories of spending time in what looked like East Berlin. But had the sense she was still traveling by night, working.

“There,” Frank said in a low voice.

He led her down a narrow side street. On the corner was a small building. Garage-style doors had been installed on either side and now, on this pretty day, they were flung up. She could clearly see the entire establishment from front to back.

She stopped.

“It looks like-”

“Yeah,” Frank said. Then he shrugged. “I kinda got the feeling you wanted to look around that place. And I know you like computers.”

He scratched the back of his head, suddenly seeming uncomfortable.

“Well, these are kind of like computers,” He added.

She nodded, and they walked into the arcade. Inside, the sounds, which were tinny and muted on the street, completely filled the space. The room itself was kept dim, lit by the sunlight outside and the glow of the screen on each machine. Every cabinet was painted with brightly colored characters. As she looked at the displays, she realized that these were what the players were supposed to imagine the tiny pixelated characters to be. Again, it was like nothing she had ever experienced before.

Being in the arcade brought back memories of the fake American town, and she wondered if small towns in America really did look like that. Many small towns in the movies she watched looked similar as well. The cinema, Burger Town, and arcade all together around a tiny town square. She knew it would be unlikely she’d ever get to see a place like that. Unlikely, she’d ever leave West Berlin, unless they were shipping her off to some prison to lock her away forever.

Mila pushed the thoughts from her mind and approached a free cabinet. She watched the looping demo of what must have been a car racing along a track that never seemed to end. Several cars whizzed by the player's car until one crashed into it. A computerized grinding sound filled her ears. The screen went black.

“You ever play one of these?” Mila asked Frank.

He shook his head.

“Heard it rots your brain or something,” He joked. “Come on, let’s go get some tokens.”

As they waited in line, he pointed to a game that involved a sloped wooden track with numbered holes at the top.

“Now that’s more my speed. Skee-ball.” When he was met with her blank stare, he clarified, “It’s like bowling. You do know bowling, right?”

She shook her head.

“I’ll show ya.”

Then he turned his attention to the man behind the counter. Frank handed over a few bills to exchange for tokens.

He was spending so much money on her today. She felt uncomfortable unable to contribute. Of course, no one would give her money, nothing that she could potentially use to escape.

Not that she had anywhere to go. Beyond the walled city was a dangerous place for her. Outside the city was Soviet-controlled Germany. Even if she attempted to leave through the subway tunnels as she and Adler once had, she was an enemy of the state. Sure, they had thought she was dead, but likely that had been proven wrong when her face showed up all over the KGB cameras as soon as someone had reviewed the footage. And hey, why is a dead woman working with Russell Adler anyway?

If caught, the KGB would make sure she was dead this time, but not after grilling her for all the information she had about the CIA. Or if Perseus got hold of her again. The blonde- Ivanova went to great lengths to ensure she could hold her and torture her freely. She was sure the entire organization wanted her head for what she did in Solovestky.

“Hey,” Frank nudged her. The collection of dull coins jingled as he moved them from one hand to the other. “So, what do you want to play?”

She walked around studying each machine. The arcade wasn’t busy, so she could get a good look at the games.

One in particular caught her eye. It was one she recognized from the fake America town.

She approached the cabinet and watched the preview play before her of a small character dressed in green jumping over black blocks on the ground. She realized that the blocks were meant to be open spaces through which the player could fall. After watching the demo play, Frank handed her a coin, and she started up the game. He tucked his hand in his jeans pocket and deposited the remaining tokens.

“Got plenty of ‘em, so you can try all of the machines if you want,” He said, patting his pocket, causing the coins to jingle again.

She smiled at him and then directed her focus back to the machine. She bent down to deposit the token, and the music on the cabinet changed.

Frank leaned an arm over the cabinet and watched her play. It took her a moment to learn the controls. Her character died a few times, but it was easy to identify the gameplay patterns after that.

“Hey, you’re not bad at this,” Frank said.

She shrugged.

Then she made a silly mistake, and the timer ran out on the game. She managed to convince Frank to play a round himself. They spent much of the afternoon at the arcade. Occasionally, they’d find a game they could play together. Boxing was entertaining because Frank would tell her about his brief experience as an amateur boxer as a teenager. Though with some of the stories, he’d end up distracting himself enough in the retelling that she could get several punches in at once.

After losing another round of boxing, Frank yawned and checked his watch.

“Getting late, we should head out. I wanted to get some things at the grocery store anyway,” Frank said. Then added, “Someone keeps complaining we don’t have any good food.”

“We don’t!” She said, following him out the door. He stopped short at a cabinet where a group of kids were gathered and rooted through his pockets for the remaining tokens. Then he dumped them into the hands of a girl standing on the outskirts of the group.

It was dark when they returned to the apartment, each holding one grocery bag.

She placed her bag on the counter and unpacked it, putting pantry items away as Frank stocked the fridge.

“Should I make us something?” She asked.

“Nah, I got an idea for us,” He said but didn’t elaborate. Mila wasn’t sure what to make of the smile that slowly crept across his face either.

“You, cooking?” She teased him.

“Hey, I can cook some things,” He said, feigning offense.

Mila chuckled. She wasn’t about to insult him if he was willing to make dinner for them. And she was a bit curious about what Frank would cook up. She leaned against the counter to watch him work.

“Let me know if you need me to do anything.”

“I got it. You gotta be tired after today anyway.”

He was right; she was exhausted, and she yawned as if on cue. She stretched her arms over her head and let out another long yawn. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the message indicator on the answering machine was lit.

“Oh hey, Frank, you’ve got a message,” She said.

“Hit play for me, will ya?”

She depressed the button, and the tape on the machine whirred to life.

“Woods-”

Mila recognized the voice immediately.

“Is that Sims?”

“Shh-” Frank hushed her.

“- in town, and I’ve got some ideas for you. Well, for Bell. Come by tomorrow.”

The tape stopped, and the machine beeped. Frank continued his work without explanation. He had pulled out a fat tomato and was in the process of cutting it into slices. Mila watched him, waiting to see if he would elaborate.

When he didn’t, she asked him, “What was that about?”

Frank’s back straightened, and he cleared his throat before answering.

“Sims-” He paused, “He’s gonna help us.”

She bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from interrupting. She could tell Frank had more to say, but why was he taking so long to say it? He placed the knife on the cutting board but kept his other hand around the tomato as he turned his head to look at her.

“I’m not letting them drug you anymore, Mila,” He said firmly.

She hadn’t been expecting that. In fact, she wasn’t sure she understood him clearly.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I told them. All of them. They need to figure something else out.”

Frank turned back to the tomato and finished slicing. He moved the slices to a plate.

“All of them,” She repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Park, Hudson, and Adler. All of them,” He said as he opened the fridge and pulled out a pack of bacon wrapped in butcher paper. He placed it on the counter. Frank then sprinkled some water on the pan, and it sizzled.

“Nice and hot,” He said quietly.

It was surreal watching him work. The conversation and the actions were incongruent. Frank was just making her dinner and casually telling her her entire life was about to change. That he- Frank Woods- of all people had made a decision about her life without talking to her about it.

This couldn’t be happening. Frank couldn’t do this to her.

Mila rubbed her forehead.

“Is that why you-” She stopped. She didn’t want to think that Frank took her out today to soften the blow of what would happen tomorrow. Mila ripped her hand away from her forehead and slammed her fist on the countertop.

Frank had just been about to place a slice of bacon in the pan, but he stopped and stared at her.

“Frank, if they’re not drugging me-” Mila started. She shook her head. The kitchen was a blur. She couldn’t make eye contact with him. She didn’t want to face the reality of it.

“If I’m not useful to them-” She tried again.

No, no, don’t say it.

“We almost lost you-” Frank said, his voice surprisingly calm.

“Frank!” She interrupted, “This is my life. And you’re what, just making decisions for me?”

“What do you want me to do?” He said. He tossed the bacon back on the butcher paper. It made a wet slapping sound when it hit the paper.

“You were gone. You didn’t see you. Lost in your head. It’s the fucking drugs, Mila. You want me just to step aside and let them do that to you?”

“I told you that’s what I was good for,” She said.

“So you think you deserve this?”

She said nothing to him then. The answer was obvious to both of them. He stepped towards the sink and washed his hands. As he dried them, he turned back toward her.

“Sometimes I think you’d rather lose your mind,” Frank said sadly. He tossed the towel on the counter before reaching out for her, but she slapped his hand away.

“Mila-”

“Controlling my life. Just like Adler.”

“Hey!” He raised his voice then.

It wasn’t fair. She knew she wasn’t being fair. Frank wasn’t Adler. But the roaring in her head wouldn’t stop. She stepped away from him and swung around, heading to her room.

She didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to hear his reasoning. He was probably right, but the prospect of it not working, of her being imprisoned forever. She’d rather be dead. Because it would be forever. Held in solitary confinement with no hope of ever leaving.

She changed into her t-shirt, leaving her day clothes on the floor.

On her bed was the bag from the music store. Frank must have put it in here for her. She placed her headphones over her ears and popped a tape in. Somber music did its best to drown out the sounds of Frank cooking in the kitchen.

And eventually, she fell asleep.

She had a dream of meeting a man in a bar. He was a stranger to her, but they sat and talked as if they were old friends. After exchanging pleasantries, she leaned closer to him.

“Please. Frank Woods. It must be him.”

“Why?”

“Because I believe he is a good man. I believe he will understand.”

Mila woke up hungry. She was no stranger to the feeling, but somehow, paradoxically, it was harder to ignore now that she was getting food regularly. Easier to let the feeling fade into the background and have sleep for dinner when there was never any dinner or breakfast to look forward to.

The bedside clock told her it was the middle of the night, and she wondered if Frank would still be awake. Her anger had died almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. She felt guilty for blowing up on him and knew she needed to apologize. And that he’d probably chew her out for it. Frank wasn’t manipulative. He wasn’t trying to control her. He’d likely be more angry that she’d even suggest that than anything else. But first, she needed to eat something.

Swinging her feet around, she carefully got up from the bed. She avoided a particularly creaky floorboard and made her way to the door. She placed her ear against it and listened, but with the exception of the usual sounds of the building, it was quiet.

Even still, she opened the door as quietly as she could. If Frank was in his room snoring away, he would never hear her, but she couldn’t be too careful. Mila made her way to the kitchen. She could assemble a sandwich quickly and bring it back to her room. Though she hated eating in her room. It made her feel like she was in a prison cell. She opened the fridge, and there on the top shelf was a plate with a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper.

Frank had made dinner for her after all. Of course, he had. She picked up the chilled plate and turned to bring it to her room. But that’s when Frank emerged from the bathroom. A fleck of toothpaste dotted his beard. They caught each other’s gaze before he walked past her and through the kitchen. He was just on the threshold of the living room when he stopped. He raised his arm and leaned against the doorframe.

“Should have talked to you about it, but I wanted you to have a couple of good days before we had to figure things out,” He said. His hand formed into a fist, which he tapped against the frame before turning around.

The guilt crept in again. He had just been thinking about her again. His insistence on her rehabilitation had changed his living situation, his job, and his life. How much time did he spend thinking about her?

Mila set the sandwich down on the counter and stepped toward him.

“I’m sorry, Frank,” She said. It felt weak. After everything.

To her surprise, he nodded. He leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his bare chest.

“Yeah, me too,” He said.

She waited, she didn’t have much to say, everything that came to mind just sounded like an excuse to her.

“I’m not like him,” Frank said.

“I know, Frank,” She said.

“I’m not trying to control your life. Not interested in that,” He said.

He took in a deep breath. She shifted her weight on her feet. It seemed like he had more to say.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” She said when he said nothing.

He gave her a sidelong glance, and then a characteristic smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth. He threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him.

“I’ve had worse,” He said with a chuckle. Frank reached over with his other arm and grabbed her plate. For a brief moment, she found herself enveloped in his arms. Face pressed against his chest. The scent of his cologne and the toothpaste filled the air around her. And he was warm, as always.

“Come on,” He said and guided her towards the couch. “No reason to eat alone. Unless you want to?”

She shook her head. They both took a seat on the couch.

“Thanks for the sandwich,” She said as she did. She sat down somewhat close to him, bending her legs and letting her feet dangle off the couch. She balanced the plate on her thigh and unwrapped the sandwich. Then she took a bite.

“Want some?” She offered to him. He shook his head. She covered her mouth with her hand and nodded, “It’s really good.”

“I thought so. Better warm, though.”

She wolfed down half the sandwich. In part because she was very hungry, but also to avoid conversation. However, when she finished, instead of picking up the second half, she said, “I’m sorry, Frank.”

“You said that already.”

He reached out and put his hand on the back of her neck, pulling her into him. He had to grab the sandwich plate before it slipped onto the couch, and he set it next to him on the armrest.

From behind her, he pulled down a blanket and draped it over her. She felt a strong desire to tell him everything that was going on in her head. Her worries, her fears, and even her hopes, however small, for her future. Mila looked up at Frank. Her eyes traveled over his face, the way the hairs of his beard curved to the contour of his jawline. The deep wrinkles that lead up to his eyes, his eyes, bright blue, so much hidden behind them.

Frank thought about her enough. She didn’t need to dump her feelings on him.

He must have sensed her watching him because he glanced down. He made a soft questioning noise to match the look on his face.

Mila rose up, allowing the blanket to fall from her shoulders, and pressed a hand to Frank’s chest before kissing him.

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