#efingfanfics

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.

Mason looked over his shoulder so he could narrow his eyes at Woods.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Mason said. He had that knowing look on his face. Then Mason added, “Yeah, Park and I handled them- because we were on time .” 

Woods ignored the dig. 

Mason was fishing.

 He knew something was up. 

Hard to keep secrets from someone you’ve known for decades. But this wasn’t exactly the time. 

Woods got on the radio and let everyone know they were in position.

“See anything?” He asked as he leaned on the back of Mason’s chair.

“No,” He flicked through the feed on various rooms, “Park and I haven’t been able to find anything on the cameras.”

Woods surveyed the screens as well. It looked like a good time, not necessarily his cup of tea, but it was always fun running missions with Mason at one of these fancy parties. 

They could always find someone easy on the eyes to swing around the dance floor for a minute too. 

“You ever miss being on the inside of one of these?”

“Ha, no way. Though the view is usually nice,” Woods said as the camera panned over the ballroom. 

“Yeah, lots of beautiful people,” Mason looked at the screens again. He pointed to a group of dancers, “The dancing, now that’s what I miss.” 

“And the food.”

“Oh yeah, the food,” Mason smirked, “Remember that time walked out with a whole tray of hors d'oeuvre?”

“Needed to keep our energy up,” Woods grinned.

“Oh, those were good,” Mason patted his stomach, “Maybe Bell can sneak us some.”

“The only problem is the portions are too small.”

“Yeah, well, if you had a fancy party, you’d probably get Burger Town to cater. And Bubby to do the ceremony.”

“What are you getting on your high horse about?” He punched Mason in the arm, “Remember I was at your wedding.”

Mason laughed at this. 

“You know I’d actually pay money to see you in one of these getups again.”

“You’d pay money?”

“Yeah, it’s always so funny, and they get you to comb your hair and trim your beard. You clean up good, Woods.”

Woods chuckled.

“Whoa, wait, a second, speaking of cleaning up good,” Mason adjusted the camera, “Is that our Bell?”

“Looks like.”

“What do you mean looks like? Didn’t you drive her here?” Mason hit Woods in the chest with the back of his hand, “Woods- is that why you were late?”

“She needed some help.”

“Help with what ?” Mason’s eyes were wide and questioning.

Woods groaned. He knew Mason wasn't going to tell anyone, but it was Bell’s business, and he thought it best to not explain it. Anyway, it was one of those things that had seemed like a good idea at the time, but maybe he shouldn’t have been so hands-on . Maybe he shouldn’t have told her so much about his personal experience. Probably made her think he was another asshole who fucks around. He didn’t mean it like that. 

But then, in the car, when she had seemed like she felt so out of place, he wondered if his words had something to do with it. She looked stunning, in his opinion, better than most of the people there, and he was surprised she couldn’t see it. 

“Look, she needed help. I helped her. She’s not-” Woods waves his hand in the air over the screens, “-she’s not one of these people. She’s used to sitting behind a desk.”

Mason gave him another look. 

“Mason, come on.

“So what,” Mason narrowed his eyes at Woods, “You had to give her a pep talk?”

“Something like that.”

“And you couldn’t tell me because-”

“If Park had been there, Park would have helped her.”

“Woods-” 

Bell came over comms, “Can you check the ground floor, southeast side, corner.”

“Hang on,” Mason flipped through the cameras as Woods scanned the rest of the screens. He looked at Woods, who shook his head, “Coming up with nothing over here, Bell. Just looks like an office.”

“Then I think I’ve found the room.”

“Meet you there.”

Mason and Woods used the surrounding trees and greenery for cover and began moving to the location. 

They positioned themselves just under the window.

Bell came back on the radio coughing, “I’m opening a window for you. Wait, hang on. Patrol. Stay low.”

“All right, they’re gone. Quick.”

Mason and Woods made their way through the window and into the room where Bell was pulling the window coverings closed. Her hair was disheveled, and her mascara was running. Blood splatter across her chest.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, just had a run-in with a guard,” She pointed to a body on the ground, “You know how it goes. Glad I’m wearing black.”

Mason picked up the body and hauled it to a closet. 

She rubbed her neck, “He leave a mark?”

“You’re good.”

Woods handed her his medkit, from which she grabbed some gauze. She peered at her reflection in one of the glass bookshelf doors and cleaned herself up. 

“I think the access panel is hidden,” She said, looking over the bookshelves, “But it would have to be easy to get to in an emergency.”

Woods pulled out a blacklight and scanned the wall. The top edge of a book lit up as well as a painting. Mason pulled the book aside to reveal a button, which he pressed. Something behind the painting clicked.

“Elaborate setup,” He said.

“Should I leave you both to it?” Bell asked. Bell made her way to the door and opened it a crack. Then she closed it. She put her ear to the door. There must have been a guard patrolling just outside.

“Yeah, I think we got this,” Mason moved the painting, revealing a panel. Fingerprints glowed bright blue under the light. A metal plate with six grooves on it, and a pin in the center was just behind it.

“What is this?”

“I’ve seen this before. Biometric scanner,” Mason frowned, “We need his hand.”

“How the fuck are we supposed to get his hand? Cut it off?”

“Park, Adler,” Mason radioed the rest of the team, “We need Desjardins’ hand.”

“His hand?” Park’s bewildered voice came over the radio. 

“We’ve got a Biometric scanner here.”

There was a momentary silence on the line.

“Easy enough,” Adler’s voice buzzed, “Someone’s going to have to make friends with him.”

“Sounds like a job for Bell,” Park added quickly.

Bell turned her head towards the room, looking stunned. 

“Ok, I’m on it,” She said with a wooden voice. And then to Woods and Mason, she said, “She just told me to do it because she doesn’t want to do it.”

“Seems like.”

Bell’s mouth was a line. 

She paced in front of the door, thinking things over. She was clearly frustrated.

Woods empathized with her. Bell was already way out of her comfort zone with this one. 

“Are you going to be ok?”

“Of course, I’ll be ok,” Her tone was sharp, annoyed, but she quickly softened it, “I’m sorry. I’ll be fine. I just have to figure this out.”

“You mean you don’t come to fancy parties and hit on arms dealers every day?” He nudged her shoulder, “Could have fooled me.”

She gave him a small smile, “Please, I couldn’t even get dressed for this on my own.”

They both laughed at that. 

“Bell, what’s the status?” Adler’s voice buzzed in their ears. 

It wasn’t really a question, more of a get your ass moving, Bell . 

Or a- what was it he always said to her? We’ve got a job to do.

Had to be some kind of inside joke. Adler said it to her so often.

They both knew he had finished his part and made his way to the van. He was looking at them through the cameras. 

“Duty calls,” Bell’s shoulders dropped, and she sighed, “On my way Adler.”

“Still holding it together?” She held her arms out to the side for assessment.

“Yeah, you still look great.”

Bell took in a deep breath and checked the hallway, and left.

Now there was nothing to do but wait. 

Mason and Woods sat behind the couch, hidden from view from the door.

“Are you going to be ok with this?” Mason teased.

“Ok, with what?” Woods looked back at him.

“Bell coming in here flirting with another guy-” 

“You like this?” Woods looked at Mason doubtfully.

Mason shook his head, “No, of course not. But sometimes, it’s part of the job. It’s not like she has to do anything. Anyway, we’re here to make sure things don’t get out of hand.” 

“Yeah.”

Mason kicked Woods’ boot, “But don’t think we can be friends for as long as we have, and I can’t tell when you’re interested in someone.”

“Yeah, well,” Woods rolled his eyes, “I may have already screwed a few things up today.”

“What when you were helping her ?”

“Mason-”

“All right, all right,” He threw his hands up, “What did you do?”

“I may have,” Woods paused, “ Overstated some things.”

“What things?”

“I may have implied ,” He flipped his hand over, holding it palm out, “That I’ve been with a lot of women.”

“You told a woman you were interested in that you’ve been with a lot of women ,” Mason said, his tone completely deadpan. 

Woods sighed and leaned his head back against the back of the couch, “And then I told her that I found her attractive- in a friendly way. ”

“In a friendly way?” Mason was incredulous, “Like as a friend? ”

Woods nodded. To his surprise, his friend was quietly laughing.

“Wow, you really pulled the wool over my eyes,” Mason shook his head, “I was over here thinking you just thought she was hot. Should have known after that Burger Town date.”

“That wasn’t a date.”

“So you’ve said.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look, I knew Bell had a thing for you-”

“You what? ”

“But you,” He pointed at Woods, “I had no idea. You usually steer clear of workplace romances. Unlike everyone else.”

“Things get messy,” Woods interjected.

“But,” Mason went on, “You also have a habit of saying the wrong thing when you’re interested in someone. It’s almost like you’re trying to destroy your chances before anything even happens.”

Woods exhaled heavily, “I don’t know if it’s like that.”

“Okay, say you didn’t completely blow it-” Mason grinned at him now, “Would you kiss her?”

“What? Mason-”

“Come on, if you got the opportunity , would you?”

Woods said nothing.

“Yeah, there’s your answer,” Mason pointed at him again, “If you weren’t really interested, you would have laughed that off.”

Woods considered this. Maybe that’s why he had been so quick to help her. She had always seemed so reserved and guarded. It had surprised him a bit when she was so open to letting him touch her. Especially so intimately, standing there in her underwear while he ran his hands over her legs, her hips. In that button-up that just hinted at what was underneath. Her attitude about It threw him off, and that’s probably why he had been so eager to joke around. 

Would he kiss her? Hell yeah he would. 

“Bell’s on the move,” Adler’s voice crackled in his ear, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

Through the door, he could hear somewhat exaggerated laughter. The kind that women usually used when a guy wasn’t really all that funny but always worked to stroke an insecure ego. 

No one had ever used it on him, of course. He was just familiar with it.

The door to the room burst open, and Bell and the arms dealer, Maximilien Desjardins, walked in.

“This doesn’t look like a bedroom, Max,” Bell said, laughing. She might be playing a little tipsy. Her voice was higher than usual.

“Astute observation, it is not.”

Woods peeked over the couch. Desjardins made a twirling motion with his finger implying that Bell should turn around. She complied.

“I wanted to show you something. You said you were interested in new tech,” He confirmed Bell wasn’t looking before pulling the book off the shelf. Then he pressed the button to open the panel behind the painting. 

Woods and Mason exchanged looks, both ready to jump in. 

Bell signaled them to wait. 

She had this.

“Ok, turn around now. You don’t want to miss this.”

Bell turned and leaned against the desk, letting her leg casually slide out from the slit in her dress.

With a hydraulic hiss, one of the bookcases began to move along the wall revealing another room. 

Bell put her hands to her mouth in awe. Woods knew it was put on. 

She wasn’t impressed. 

She saw cool stuff like this all the time.

“Wow, it’s like a movie.”

Laying it on thick, Bell?

But Desjardins only chuckled. He stood in front of her and placed his hand on her exposed skin.

What a creep.

“Isn’t it something?” He was looking over his shoulder at the opening to the room, “It’s a panic room. State-of-the-art. ”

“Oh wow,” She smiled at him admiringly and touched his upper arm, causing him to turn back to her. Then she leaned in, and in a conspiratorial tone, she said, “You wouldn’t- let me see inside, would you?”

She flirted with this guy with surprising ease. Gone was the discomfort. She seemed to have settled into this role. But of course, she had. She was a professional. Desjardins looked her up and down while tracing circles with his hand along her thigh. She made a soft sound at his touch. 

He cupped her face in his hand, bringing it up to meet him.

“Just a peek?” She said softly before he kissed her.

“Yes, all right,” Desjardins said after pulling out of the kiss.

He placed a hand on her lower back and led her into the room.

In the panic room, their conversation was muffled. 

Woods felt a tap on his knee and looked over at Mason.

“Would you chill out?” Mason mouthed.

It was then he realized from Mason’s perspective that he looked like he was about to pounce. Of course, he hadn’t been, but he hadn’t realized how tense he had gotten watching the interaction between Bell and the arms dealer.

“I just want to be ready.”

“She’s fine. She’s got this.”

Woods nodded. He knew. He just didn’t like the way Desjardins was pawing all over her.

“You know I don’t like it either,” Mason said as if he could read Woods’ mind.

Bell’s laughter traveled from the panic room to their ears.

“We should move up.” 

And just as they did, the door to the panic room closed, locking Bell inside alone with Desjardins.

“Fuck,” Woods hissed, “We can’t even get her on the radio while she’s in there.” 

“Adler,” Mason got on the radio, “Can you see inside the room?”

“No, that’s on its own system,” Adler said, “We just have to wait it out. Bell can handle herself.”

Just then an alarm blared through the mansion. Large shutters slammed down over the windows. They were trapped. They had expected triggering the panic room would set off alarms. Which was why the plan had been that they would be handling it, and Bell was supposed to be on her way out by now.

“Shit, shit.”

“Hostiles heading straight for you,” Adler said, “Park, leave with the other guests.” 

Mason tipped over one of the bookcases in front of the door. Then Woods wedged the desk on top of it. They tossed another bookcase on that and propped the couch up, waiting for the door to be breached.

“That’ll hold them off for a minute.”

“Hopefully, we have a minute.”

They could hear the door begin to splinter as it was fired upon.

“Good thing rich folks love their hardwood.”

Woods chuckled. 

“Hope they don’t have a battering ram.”

He looked over at the bookshelf that hid the entrance to the panic room. Bell could hold her own, but why hadn’t she exited the room yet?

“They have a battering ram,” Adler said, “There’s six of them. But it looks like more are on their way.”

“There were two in the security room trying to override the window shutters,” Park’s voice this time.

“ Were? ” Mason repeated, grinning.

“Good work, Park,” Adler said, “You should get out of there.”

Something heavy slammed on the main door to the room.

The battering ram.

The door began to bend under the force being applied to it.

They both readied their weapons and aimed at the door. In an instant, the door broke off its hinges, and the force sent the furniture braced in front of it back a few feet. 

They had breached the door.

Woods and Mason both fired. 

Shell casings littered the floor. 

The guards returned fire. 

Woods ducked behind the couch to reload. At that moment, the panic room door slid open. The doorway was empty. 

“I’ll cover you,” Woods said to Mason as he reloaded and returned fire. Mason took the opportunity to slide to the open door firing as he went. 

“Woods, come on!” Mason shouted as he fired from the doorway of the panic room. Woods unloaded another round and dashed for the door. Bell was sitting on the floor, leaning her arm on a desk just inside the room. Her finger poised over a button just on the desk.

“Mason, move!” Bell wheezed as she hit a button on a computer console, and the door slid closed. Then it was quiet except for a fan and a computer hard drive whirring.

They all took a minute to catch their breath. 

“You ok?” Woods asked Bell. Her face and neck were bruised. Lipstick smeared. One strap of her dress was torn, and the skin of her knuckles was scraped.

“If you could see yourself, you wouldn’t be asking me that,” She laughed. It had a bit of a cough to it. And then, using the desk as support, she stood up. 

“What the hell happened?”

Bell kicked something on the floor, “This fucking creep.”

That’s when he realized it was Desjardins’ body. 

He looked over at her. She was tying the two pieces of her shoulder strap together. That’s when he noticed a scrape on her shoulder. 

“Asshole tore my dress. I don’t know when he figured out who I was. Must have given myself away somehow.”

She touched her chin absently. Three tiny red cuts contrasted against a forming purple bruise. 

“He tried to knock me out, but we got into it. I shot him. Good thing I had that gun, huh?” She gave Woods a soft smile, “Anyway, we gotta get out of here.”

Mason said, looking around, “How? Unless you’re hiding a door in that dress- it’s a dead end.”

Bell shook her head and pointed at one of the camera monitors set up just inside the panic room.

“No, look. That’s an elevator. But I think it will only open to this room with a command from this computer console,” She pointed on the monitor to what looked like a tiny closet. It could easily have been an elevator. Then she moved her finger down to another monitor, “And I think that’s an underground garage. Look at all those fancy cars. Might be our way out. Might also be how they got in to do the upgrades on this room without us noticing.”

She grabbed a book that had been sitting on the desk and flipped it open. It was the same one that hid the button for the access panel outside. Desjardins must have brought it with him. 

“Then what’s the book for? Doing some light reading?”

Bell grinned, “It’s just a hunch, but I think this is how we get in there.”

She pointed to a blank space on the wall.

“Are we supposed to be seeing something?”

“I think it’s another hidden door,” She flipped open the book and placed it on the desk just below the security cameras, “Desjardins was paranoid. He wouldn’t just trap himself in a room- he’d have a way out. And said he just had the room updated, right? State-of-the-art . Maybe he changed some security codes and needed to keep a reminder around just in case.”

“Suppose you don’t want to be waiting on the line with IT support in one of these,” Mason joked as he looked around. 

“Exactly,” Bell chuckled, “Hey, Woods, do you have your blacklight?”

He stood next to her, switched into the blacklight, aiming it at the open book. Bell started flipping through it.

She stopped when a page lit up with fingerprints. 

Placing her hands on either side of the book, she studied the page intently. Her face was so serious. He liked watching her work, her brilliant mind putting the pieces together. It was like she was in her own world. It was amazing some of the things she could do in her head.

As she reviewed the page, she unclipped her hair and combed it with her fingers.  She gathered it in the back in a low ponytail and put the clip back into place. 

Then she glanced at him briefly and grinned before she sitting down on the stool and sliding the book over to the computer console. She started typing furiously.

“Got something?”

“Yeah, I think this book has the code or is the key to it. If you need to move the book to gain access to the panel, it’s easy enough to bring it with you,” She continued typing, “Or this could just be a favorite book and a favorite passage.” 

She shrugged. 

“Long password,” Mason observed.

“Yeah, it’s good and secure. I mean, he’s not going to use password for his panic room,” She laughed, “Could you imagine using password as your password? Sure would make my job easier.”

Woods gave Mason a look, but his friend pointedly looked in another direction.

A hydraulic hissing sound filled the room, and a door popped open from what once had been an empty wall.

“Damn, this is right out of Star Trek,” Woods said in awe. He touched Bell’s shoulder, “Good fucking job.”

“Thanks. I’ll grab the list as well,” She began typing at rapid speed again. Mason studied the monitors above her head. 

“Looks like they’re making their way downstairs.”

“They’re going to be waiting for us.”

“Nothing we can’t handle, right?” Bell said optimistically as she read through the files.

Woods exchanged a look with Mason. She wasn’t supposed to have been here with them. The plan had been for her to leave as a guest. She had no gear and a tiny gun with minimal ammo.

He removed his pistol and set it next to her.

“You’re gonna have to be careful down there.”

Shooting him a look, she said, “Do you expect me to be careless?”

“Bell-”

“Which one of you has the disk?” She interrupted, holding her hand out.

After copying the list to a disk, they took the elevator down. It was an uncharacteristically quiet elevator ride. It’s not like he and Mason had never had to escort someone who was under-armed before. Bell was capable, but she was likely annoyed at the idea of being considered a liability. 

The elevator opened up into a small room. Double doors lead out into what they thought would be the garage. Mason opened one door lightly, looking around the room. 

He crouched as he entered the garage. Woods approached the door to watch Mason’s progress. He signaled to Bell to stand close to him and stay low. She exhaled heavily, not hiding her irritation, but complied. Woods couldn’t blame her. He would probably feel the same way. 

The room was a giant garage filled with rows of cars. All of them were bright and gleaming under the garage lights. All well-maintained. Some Woods would have very much liked to drive under different circumstances. 

As they entered, Woods noted that the garage floor sloped upward into the ceiling as they entered. 

It was a strange design, but this wasn’t exactly the time to critique modern interior architecture.  Just in front of them was some kind of maintenance setup. It looked like some of the cars were being serviced. A large van stood in front of these.  

Someone fired on them. They dashed to cover behind the van. Bell reached for a rolling cart and searched through the drawers as Woods returned fire. The van lurched as the tires, riddled with bullets, deflated.

Bell fired at the lights surrounding them, dimming this section of the garage. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Getting us out of here,” She put her arm up as the van window exploded a few feet above her head. 

“Trust me, ok?”

She shot out a few more lights just behind them.

“You don’t have any C4, do you?”

He stared at her, mystified, but handed her his bag all the same. 

Mason began to fire on the guards from behind a car up ahead.

“Come on!” He shouted. 

“Distract them, ok?” Bell said and ran in the other direction. He debated following her, but Mason kept the guards occupied enough that it didn’t seem like they had noticed her. And him running in the same direction might only serve to draw their fire to her. So Woods headed for Mason.

He stayed low and moved as quickly as he could. Shattered glass rained around him as windshields were torn apart by bullets. 

“We need to get the hell out of here!” Mason shouted, “Where’s Bell?”

Suddenly one side of the ceiling began to open up like a hanger door turned on its side. 

A black Pontiac GTO Convertable peeled up the ramp stopping short just beside them. At first glance, it looked like it was driving itself.

“Get in!” Bell shouted from the driver’s side. She had slid down deep into the seat to avoid getting shot. 

“You hotwire this car?” Woods asked as he jumped in back. 

“What like it’s hard?” Bell laughed.

Woods and Mason continued shooting at the guards from the backseat. Bell gunned it, but the large door had begun to close again. 

“Oh fuck,” Mason exclaimed when he looked over his shoulder, “Don’t look ahead, just don’t.”  

“Bell, the door-”

“I got it! I got it!” She attempted to assure him.

Though neither of them seemed to feel particularly comforted by her words. 

Just behind them, an explosion rocked the garage.

“The C4?”

Bell grinned. 

The door still loomed ahead. It was a tight squeeze, but she was able to get the car through before the door slammed down on them. As they drove into the night, Bell pulled herself up into a sitting position, and both Woods and Mason settled into the backseat.

Mason looked around the car, “This was a convertible before, right?”

____________________________________________________________________

They met Adler and Park at the exfil point and hopped into the van. 

“I’m still sad we couldn’t keep the car,” Bell said, looking out the window at it as they drove off. 

“First the APC and now this?” Woods settled into his seat across from her.

“It’s a souvenir.”

“You can’t pin that to Adler’s evidence board,” He joked. For a moment it was quiet. The sound of hushed conversation floated to the back of the van drawing their attention. Mason, was up front leaning over the seat and talking to Adler and Park. 

“You know,” Woods tapped Bell’s knee, “I was pretty impressed back there.”

“With what- my driving skills?”

He laughed, “Yeah, you’re a little crazy, but you got the job done.” 

She made a dismissive sound and shook her head. 

“No, I mean,” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and spoke quietly, “You were so nervous before. I knew you had it in you. And then getting Desjardins to show you the panic room-” 

“Oh god,” She ran a hand over her face, “Yeah, that was- I think I’d have preferred you both not see that.”

“The flirting? Yeah, you did great. It surprised me.”

“Oh well, one-on-one isn’t so bad,” Bell tucked her hair behind her ear and looked around before speaking again. 

She had a strange look in her eyes. She seemed to be debating something in her mind.  

At some point, she was on the ground, and her foot had landed square in the middle of his bad shoulder. If he hadn’t known better, he would have taken it personally. Just a lucky strike, he had to guess. Had to hope. Woods hadn’t had time to dwell on it because she had taken off running.

She was heading up the stairs before he knew it. Why up was anyone’s guess. It didn’t really matter. They just had to get to her before she did anything stupid. Likely she was hallucinating and thought she was somewhere else. Things could get dangerous real fast.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he found Mason there catching his breath at the door.

“Look,” Mason said, “She’s probably hallucinating. I don’t want to startle her. Hell, she might not even be able to see us.”

“Oh, she definitely could see me,” Woods said, thinking about the pain in his shoulder.

“Mason gently pushed the door open. Bell was standing only a few feet away. Her back was to the roof ledge. Hands in the air, she looked like she was talking to someone. Trying to stop them from doing something. But no one was there.

“Mason held up a hand telling Woods to stay back as he carefully approached Bell. She didn’t seem to notice him. Her gaze was fixed in front of her. The wind began to pick up, and her hair swirled around her. She didn’t seem to notice that either.

“-did everything you asked of me!” Bell wailed.

He didn’t have to wonder who she thought she was talking to. Adler. He had always had the impression that she hadn’t had time to negotiate with him. Beg for her life. That Adler just shot her, maybe even in the back. But he had faced her. After all the shit he put her through, he actually looked Bell in the eye and did it. 


“Bell," Mason said as he approached cautiously, "Adler's not here.”

Bell blinked. She turned her head slowly to look at Mason, still holding one hand up to keep the Adler, who wasn’t there, at bay. The other hand, she used to hold Mason back. But she stared at him as if he had materialized out of nowhere.

“He’s not real, Bell. I know-“

“Fuck you!” Bell exclaimed. She looked between Mason and the empty space where she likely thought Adler was standing. In a quieter voice that Woods could barely hear over the wind, she added, “You’re the reason why I’m like this.”

“He couldn’t tell who it was directed to, Adler or Mason. But then he realized Bell was staring hard at him.

Did she think he was someone else?

Bell took a step back. Even though she wasn't near the ledge, Woods knew she could bolt at any time. And if she didn’t realize where she was, she might end up accidentally propelling herself off the roof.

“Bell," Mason started again, "Even if you don't trust me. Just look around. There are always gaps where reality slips through. It's hard. It's fucking overwhelming-“

“Shut up," Bell choked out. Her voice was strained, breaking. Woods was too far to see, but he had a sense she might be crying.

“You think I’m an idiot?” Bell continued, “Maybe you were able to fool me once, but there’s no way. No way Mason and Woods would come for me. That's the reality."

“Mason’s shoulders dropped. He couldn’t hear it over the wind, but he was sure his friend just let out an exasperated sigh. Not that he’d ever let up. But the two of them were so damn stubborn they could be out here for hours.

"You don't have to believe me. But what's under your feet? Grass and dirt? Or dried rooftop tar? You know what you really feel, Bell."

“Bell muttered something in response that Woods couldn't quite catch. He saw Mason shift his weight impatiently. Mason knew what she was going through. He could commiserate with her, but his patience was always a little thin, even in the best situations.

Slowly, Woods stepped forward. He chose to head closer to where she seemed to think Adler was. As he moved, he wondered what Bell was seeing.

How many times had she imagined this?

She had so few memories she must have run through them over and over again in her head when she was alone in that prison facility.

When you’re locked up in a cell, sometimes all you have to think about is your past. And escaping. And those people who worked for Perseus had seemed intent on torturing her. They had drugged her recklessly too. They hadn’t cared a bit if she lost her mind.

Did they have her run through this over and over again? Just to torture her? What she had done to make her former pals hate her so much that they would devote so many months to torturing her. Even that blonde, Ivanova, played her part in the torture. But on that prison train, she and Bell had worked together.

What made them turn on each other?

Bell definitely saw him approach. She seemed to have forgotten about Adler and Mason. Her hard gaze was fixed on him. Woods was careful not to get too close. It was then he was sure; she thought he was one of those guards at the prison facility. She wasn’t seeing him as himself, just a hallucination meant to fuck with her.

“No,” Bell said, shaking her head. She pointed at Mason. “Him maybe, but you?” She shook her head again. Bell was looking Woods dead in the eye. “No, fucking way. Woods would-”

"Don't tell me what I would and wouldn't do," He interrupted her. His voice was firm, and she seemed taken aback by it.

Bell bit her lip. She kept her feet on the ground, but he could see her hips move as she shifted her weight. Her toes curled as she felt the rough texture of the rooftop. Her eyes widened briefly. Woods could only make an assumption about what might be running through her head. That what she felt under her feet didn’t match what she saw around her. That seeing him may have made her begin to doubt things.

Bell took a step back.

Fuck.

Woods exchanged a look with Mason.

“Lost so many people. Do anything to get them back. Mason coming back-“ He shook his head. He still wasn’t quite ready to talk about that one.

“And you? After everything you did? You’re-“

A hero?” Bell spat.

“Nah, that’s what-” Woods started. He waved his hand to indicate the city. “That’s what they say about- about people like us. But they don’t fucking know.”

They really don’t, do they? Civilians? No, fucking clue what it’s like.

If they weren’t calling him a baby killer, they were calling him a hero. He was neither. Why she thought he was going to say that was interesting. Maybe it was a word they had used, a way to try to pump her up, get her to believe them.

“After all the shit that was done to you. You could’ve- but you didn’t. Everything you went through. You’re one of us-” He said finally, gesturing between himself and Mason.

It was strange to admit. He couldn’t explore the feelings behind it at the moment, but it had been hard to say. Even though it was the truth.

Bell’s expression softened just slightly. Her hands lowered. Maybe her defenses were finally coming down.

“Look, we’re not stupid. We know everyone doesn’t see us as the good guys, right? Everything we’ve done hasn’t always been on the level, right? So, yeah if I’d have known who you were, what happened to you. If Mason had known? We’d have still come for you.”

“You’re just saying what you think I want to hear,” She shot back. But it was halfhearted.

“Bell, look, you really think they’d stand around having a conversation with you?” Mason interjected, “They wouldn’t just try to tackle you and bring you back? If you don’t believe us, fine. There are gaps where reality bleeds through.”

He could see Bell set her jaw, but she was definitely thinking it over. Allowing herself to be convinced. She was seeing the world around her for what it was, finally. He saw her toes curl up again. The way her eyes scanned the tarred roof. She looked up at the dark sky. Her eyes were focused when her gaze fell on the buildings around them. Bell turned. Carefully, she walked towards the ledge.

“Go slow. Put your hands out,” Mason warned.

He moved towards her, careful not to crowd her. Woods had to fight the urge to tackle her. Save her. But she had to see it for herself. They couldn’t force her and lose the little trust they had just built.

He watched from an unnerving distance as Bell put her hands out and touched the ledge. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding as she knelt down and leaned over the ledge to look down. Bell let out a small cry as she looked at the city around her.

It must have been unsettling as the hallucination melted away, and a whole city appeared before her. Woods moved closer. He could hear her clearly.

“West Berlin,” She said. Then she looked over her shoulder at Mason. “You came for me? I live here now?”

“Yeah, sorry we stuck you with that old man,” Mason said, thumbing toward Woods.

Woods made a derisive sound in response, drawing Bell’s attention to him. She looked at him like she was seeing him for the first time. Her eyes were suddenly clear and focused. It almost made him uncomfortable to be looked at like that.

“You good?” He asked. She nodded.“All right, can you get the fuck away from there?” He said, chuckling a little, “You’re gonna give me a damn heart attack.”

Woods helped her sit on the edge of the tub. He leaned over to run the water until it was warm and placed a stopper in.

“Put your feet in there,” He directed.

The soles of her feet were practically black. He wasn’t even sure she realized how dirty her feet had been as he had stopped her seconds before she attempted to hop in bed.

Wordlessly, Bell complied. She hadn’t said much after the roof, just followed along with him, her hand in a vice grip on his shirt. Making sure he was still there. It was something he was familiar with.

Occasionally, Mason would need a reminder as well and just reach out for his friend to give him a tap on the shoulder. Or a shove. Whatever helped to ground him. Woods knew to respond in kind. Reach out as well. It had taken some getting used to at first. Not something he was used to. His family had never been affectionate that he could remember, but he grew to like it.

The tub began to fill with water. He stopped it when her feet were submerged. The water began to turn gray and swirled around her ankles. She leaned forward to watch it change color. He knew her fascination with it was because of the drugs and that she might actually be seeing something more interesting than gray water. At least part of this evening wouldn’t be a complete nightmare for her. He grabbed a washcloth from the top of a pile of towels and dipped it in the water, then picked up a bottle filled with pinkish liquid and poured it over the wet cloth. It had a soft floral scent to it.

Woods sat on the edge of the tub. Bell was gently kicking her feet in the water, watching with fascination at the ripples created by the movement. He looked her over. The hair on the back of her head was wild, tangled by the wind.

Woods reached out a hand to comb it smooth with his fingers. He wasn’t sure how she would react, but Bell closed her eyes at the touch. Her kicking slowed to a stop. When the tangles were gone, he dropped his hand. Woods thought he heard Bell sigh, but when he looked back at her, her face was neutral.

He then leaned over the tub and reached for her ankle. She curled her toes under, likely trying to hide the fact that she was missing toenails.

“What are you, embarrassed?” He chuckled a little. Bell didn’t respond. Then he picked her foot up a few inches out of the water he scrubbed at the sole. Even her calves and shins were streaked with dirt.

“With all the shit I’ve seen- Don’t you remember jungle rot? Hell, you should have seen me when I-“ He paused. He was trying to be reassuring. Let her know he didn’t care about a few missing toenails. But he wasn’t sure it was landing.

“I just can relate, is all.”

His feet had been in worse shape than this when he crawled out of that camp at Da Nang. He hadn't even thought to be embarrassed. And really, she was just missing a few toenails. His comment seemed to relax her. She uncurled her toes, and she watched him continue his work impassively.

Soon, the towel was nearly stained black. Woods dipped it in the water and squeezed it out, dripping dirty water into the tub. When he looked back at Bell, he caught her scrunching up her nose in disgust and smiled.

So there was some of the old her in there somewhere.

Then he picked up her other foot and started to scrub.

“Why?” She blurted out. This made him chuckle.

“Maybe because you were running around barefoot?”

Bell shook her head but seemed unable to complete her thought. He gave her time to think as he finished working on her other foot. Then he drained the tub and used the sprayer on her feet. Woods washed his hands.

Then he grabbed a towel and sat back on the edge of the tub laying the towel across his lap.

“Come on, gotta dry them now.”

She didn’t move. Instead, she stared intently at her feet and the last few streams of water heading down the drain.

“I hurt you,” Bell said finally. He blinked in surprise. He supposed she had, but it didn’t hurt anymore. Stung like a bitch when she had done it.

“You just did what you thought you had to.”

She gave him a look that seemed to say she wasn’t buying that.

“You still got a lot of fight in you. Never lose it,” Woods said. He patted his thigh and she complied, propping her ankle up on the towel.

“I could have just taken a shower.”

“Thought you might have had enough of showers.”

She actually laughed then. It wasn’t a great laugh, an exhausted one if anything, but he’d take it. And after everything that happened? Good to know she could laugh. And that she wasn’t pissed off at him. Or at least not yet. Maybe when everything settled in, she would be.

He dried off her other foot in silence. When he was done, he stood up next to her and offered his good arm to help her stand. It surprised him how unsteady she was on her feet now.

Was this the same woman who had just outrun both him and Mason on the stairs?

"Come on, I know you've been sleeping for a while, but you still gotta be exhausted."

"How long?"

"About a day, brought you back yesterday morning. Early.”

She nodded. Whatever she did with this information, he couldn't tell.

Woods brought her to her bed, lifted the edge of the blanket, and helped her in. Then he pulled the covers over her.

“I’ll be right back, ok?”

Bell sat up then. She made a noise in protest.

"I'm just gonna get you something to eat," He said, thumbing over his shoulder at the door. Her eyes darted to the door. She gripped the blanket in her fists, knuckles going white. Probably an effect of the drugging making her anxious.

"I won't be gone for long, ok?"

She nodded, but he could tell it made her uncomfortable. He left the door ajar so she could hear him working away in the kitchen. Keep her connected to reality.

Mason was in the kitchen making himself a sandwich. He looked as exhausted as Woods felt.

“Want one?” Mason asked, keeping his voice low. Woods shook his head.

Mason nodded towards Bell’s door. “How’s the patient?”

"She's ok. Getting her some toast."

Mason looked at the open door.

"She might still be having trouble telling the shit that's happening in her brain to reality," He said, "It doesn't just switch off. Even when she's not on the drugs."

Woods nodded as he put two bread slices in the toaster. He knew it, but he also knew Mason needed to say it. He was the best advocate for Bell’s situation. He’d be the voice he himself had needed. A gap Woods could have filled if he had been around back then.

"We gotta stop them from drugging her,” Mason said firmly.

"Already on it. Got Park on our side too."

"Hudson?"

“He called. We had a conversation."

Mason nodded. He knew what that meant.

"Adler?"

That made them both chuckle. Adler would have to go along with it whether he liked it or not at this point. Woods had managed to be somewhat civil in his conversation with Hudson. He needed him to understand the gravity of the situation, and now he and Park were looking into alternative solutions.

Mason yawned loudly, he picked up his plate, and began moving toward his room.

"Hitting the hay?"

"Yeah, might as well, right? You got her, right? No more late-night roof excursions?” Mason joked, then he glanced at the clock, “Fuck, early morning, I mean.”

"Yeah, I got her."

The toast popped up. Woods piled the two pieces on a plate and cut them in half diagonally. Filling up a glass with water, he took both to Bell’s room and set them on the nightstand. When he entered, he noticed that she was still sitting straight up, her wide eyes watching the door, waiting for him to come back. He sat on the edge of the bed and tapped her hand, then pointed at the plate. Finally, her posture relaxed, and she picked up the toast.

“Not exactly exciting. Not sure what kind of condition your stomach is in. Last thing you need is to feel worse."

Bell nodded and took a few tentative bites of toast. She seemed to decide her stomach was fine, and in a moment, the toast was gone.

“Nothing about your appetite has changed, huh? Get you a steak next.”

One corner of her mouth turned up at this comment.

“Don’t forget to drink your water, ok?” Woods said as he took her plate and stood up to leave. Bell tensed again, and her eyes widened.

“Frank-“ She started to say but didn’t continue. He knew she didn’t want him to leave her.

It was how it was going to be with her until she felt comfortable.

“Yeah, all right, hang on,” Woods said. He left and set the plate down on the kitchen counter. He went to his room to change into shorts and a t-shirt.

“The hell are you doing?” He muttered to himself as he pulled the shirt over his head. But he knew the answer. She wouldn’t be in this situation if he had just checked his ego and come for her earlier.

But it wasn’t just the guilt, was it?

He tucked his pillow under his arm.

When he came back into her room, he stood by the bed.

“Scoot over.”

If Bell seemed surprised by this, she didn’t show it. She just shifted closer to the wall making room for him. He pulled the covers back.

“This is only to keep you connected to reality," He said, tossing his pillow against the headboard next to hers. Then he got in. There wasn’t a lot of room on the bed, so he threw his arm around her and pulled her into him.

“I’m sorry,” She said quietly. Her voice had a distant tone to it like she was drifting to sleep. Woods wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for this time, maybe everything.

“Yeah, so am I,” He said. But he could tell she was already sleeping.

Careful not to disturb her, he settled in. And soon he was asleep, too.

It was mid-morning when Bell exited her room. Woods was actually surprised to even see her up this early. He had almost expected her to sleep off the day.

But there she was fully dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. She had pulled her hair into a short ponytail. And if she hadn’t looked so pale it would almost be like the past few weeks hadn’t even happened.

“I’ll get you some coffee,” Woods said.

He folded his paper in half, laying it over the arm of his chair. Standing he walked into the kitchen. The pot he brewed that morning had long gone cold. He dumped the water and started a fresh pot. In the meantime Bell had wandered into the kitchen. She was looking at everything around her like she was seeing it for the first time.

The coffee pot made a gurgling sound as it finished brewing. Woods grabbed a mug for her from the cabinet and after pouring the coffee in handed it her. He refilled his own cup and moved back to the living room. Bell, on the other hand, was hovering between the living room and the kitchen. He could sense some hesitation in her, like her first day here.

"Come on, this is still your home."

Bell nodded and took a seat on the couch. She looked around at the stacks of books piled up on the floor.

"What are all the books for?"

"I uh-" He paused, "Thought they might help you figure out a name for yourself. If that’s, uh, something you're still interested in."

She set her mug down and slipped off the couch onto the pillow on the floor. Bell looked down at the pillow as if she just noticed it.

"You never moved it."

"Nah, I knew you'd use it again."

Bell raised her eyebrows at this, but said nothing. Instead she focused her attention at the closest stack of books. Picking one of them up she brushed her hand over the cover. It was red, old, with a linen cover. The spine had long been broken and some of the pages were falling out. Carefully, she opened it.

"You got these for me?” Bell asked, not looking up from the book in her hands, “When?"

It was a funny question since she was clearly examining the check out card.

"Been a week or two,” Woods said with a shrug, “Who can keep track of the time?"

This time she looked up at him, again she studying him with that strange expression on her face. As if she was trying to see through him. It was like she expected him to turn into something else. Or to tell her he's fucking with her.

In fact, she probably was thinking that. Still unsure about what was real around her. Still unable to trust that he was being honest with her. At first it made him angry- how could she think he was like that? But there was nothing he could do to fix it. The uncertainty was internal. It wasn't a reflection of his character. The only thing he could do was be consistent. And maybe she’d grow to trust him again.

"Hey," He said as he leaned forward placing a hand on her shoulder to help ground her, "You hungry?"

At first, she tensed at his touch, her shoulder flexed as if she wanted to shove his hand off. But it only last for a moment before she relaxed again.

Finally, she nodded.

They both headed to the kitchen. Woods opened the fridge.

"Shit, that's right.” He said as he peered in remembering now that no one had bought food in some time. There was some deli meat, maybe an egg, but not much else.

"I can make myself something-" Bell started. She stepped in front of him and looked through the fridge herself.

"What did you eat?" Bell asked.

"Uhhh," He stammered. He hadn’t actually eaten anything, yet.

"Frank-"

"What I was worried about you!" 


Bell sighed and got out a frying pan.

"Hey, you should be taking it easy."

"I'm fucking sick of taking it easy, I want to do something that isn't just sitting on my ass. What else do we have here?" She opened the pantry.

"Don't you have any food in this apartment?" She asked, though she definitely was not expecting an answer. “Get the eggs and milk,” Bell ordered him.

”Yes, ma’am,” Woods said with a chuckle. He placed them on the counter.

From the pantry he saw she picked up some cinnamon and sugar and she placed those on the counter with the authority of someone who knows what they're doing.

Bell grabbed the milk, giving him a look when she saw how the container was nearly empty. She poured it into a bowl. The eggs she cracked and added to the bowl, whisking them together with the milk.

"Is Alex here?" She asked as she sliced up bread.

"Yeah." He was trying to suppress a grin, but she must have caught him.

"What?"

"Just haven't seen you like this in a while."

"Oh, get out." She said as she shoved him out of the kitchen.

He took a seat on one of the stools and watched her work. Bell plopped the slices of bread into an egg and milk mixture. As she watched the liquid quickly soak through the bread she sighed.

“What?”

“Just not the bread I’d use for this.”

“We could go to the grocery store later. Get better food. We need food anyway.”

Bell didn’t respond. Her mouth was a firm line. She plopped some of the soaked bread into a hot frying pan. She probably wasn’t looking forward to finding herself in a crowded store full of people. It had been overwhelming for him hadn’t it? That’s why when he did go, he always shopped at night. As late as the store would let him. He wasn’t the only one.

”An all-night grocery store,” Woods added.

“Yeah? They have those?” Bell asked, her tone hopeful. She did not look up from the pan.

“Y’know, it’s only hard at first,” He said. He too was staring at the frying pan, watching the bread cook. Whatever she said, it smelled great to him.

“Getting used to being around people again. People who don’t want to hurt you.”

Bell blinked a few times. She kept her eyes on the pan. Then she flipped the bread.

“It- it gets easier?” She asked the pan.

“It gets easier.”

Bell let out a soft sigh. He watched her plate the first few slices and sprinkle cinnamon and sugar on top.

“It would be better with syrup and powdered sugar,” She said, making it clear to him that she didn’t approve of the food she made. He knew Bell wouldn’t ordinarily stand for sub-par French toast.

“And better bread. Butter.”

All the same, she cut the slices in half diagonally and served them to Woods. The next batch she wrapped in foil and put in the fridge for whenever Mason got up. Woods was nearly done with his when she finished making hers. It was still pretty good food. Nice to eat anything that wasn’t takeout for once. But he didn’t tell her that. She would probably remind him how much better it could be with decent ingredients. Some of the personality she had before, when she was Bell, when he first met her, was coming out again. Assertive and stubborn. She liked things a certain way. He wondered if this is how she had been before.

Probably.

She plated her own food and sat down next to him. She took a bite of it and made a face.

“It’s not that bad.”

“I make better food than this,” Bell insisted.

“I’ll go grocery shopping.”

She took a disdainful bite of her French toast and chewed slowly. Woods had to hold back a chuckle. She was acting like it was something truly distasteful.

“I can order something,” He offered.

“No, I’m not wasting food.” Bell stubbornly stabbed her fork at a piece of the toast, then another, stacking them on the tines. He understood what she meant. Food was still food, you don’t just throw it out because you don’t like it.

“I’ll go with you,” She said, determinedly.

“Yeah?”

“You’ll be with me right?”

“Won’t leave you alone for a second.”

“After everything that’s happened you’d think I wouldn’t be nervous about something as simple shopping.”

“It’s different. A guy pulls a knife on you; you know what to do. A crowd of people? You’re just not used to it.”

“It gets easier?”

“It gets easier.”

When she finished he grabbed her plate and his and began washing the dishes. As he scrubbed the pan, he looked over his shoulder and said, “Take a look at those books ok? You don’t have to pick a name today, but I gotta have something to call you.”

Bell only nodded in response and left him to finish the cleaning up.

When he emerged from the kitchen he found Bell sitting on the pillow. Her legs were bent, shins resting on the edge of the coffee table, and her back against the couch. She had a book resting on her knees. Next to her was a pile of books she had already gone through.

“These are some interesting books you picked,” Bell said without looking up.

Most of the books were collections about famous women. Some biographies, in case she wanted to know more about who she was naming herself after, and then baby name books. The librarian had given him an odd look when he requested those, but he wasn’t worried about what she thought.

“Just wanted you to have all the options. Or I could just call you Vicky.”

“Vicky?”

“Yeah, short for Victoria.”

“Oh.” He had only been joking, but a look crossed her face like she was considering it. Sometimes she took things so seriously it made him want to laugh. But then she might think he was laughing at her. As she thought he settled back into his chair and grabbed a book off the top of a pile.

“No,” She decided, “I can’t use her name. I’m not her-“

Bell trailed off. He gave her a curious look and so she continued.

“I had a dream about her.”

“Thought you always dreamed about her.”

“No, I mean I do, but-”

Bell was looking at him now. Her brown eyes wide, shining.

“This time I wasn’t her.”


“You want to tell me about it?”

She shook her head and looked back to her book.

”You never have to tell me anything but if you ever feel like talkin-“

She had raised her head again, thinking it over. At least she was considering it, but in the end, she said nothing.

They read silently together and new piles of books grew around them. At least they were getting through the task fairly quickly. Occasionally, Woods would read a name aloud. She would take a moment to seriously consider it, then shake her head and go back to reading. A few names they even tried out, but eventually they were all rejected. Some she said out loud, but the moment they left her lips she knew they were wrong. He thought some of them had been pretty nice. But she had to be happy with them, that’s what mattered.

They read in silence for a while. Eventually Mason got up. He grabbed his French toast and ate it cold, much to Bell’s annoyance. He did try to tell her it was good, but Bell gave him an earful.

“All right all right,” Mason relented, his hands up, “You’ve convinced me. I’ll let you make me some good food sometime.”

“So is this what you’re doing today? Can’t wait to hear your brand new name. How about Alexandra? No?”

Bell gave him a look.

“Not helping,” Woods said without looking up from what he was reading.

“I’m kidding, I’m sure whatever you come up with will be great.” He left soon after. Mason had been away from Em and David for the past few days. Em was definitely accustomed to it having been on the job herself. But it didn’t mean she had to like it. And that she didn’t worry. But Woods was glad he had called him in for help. He’s not sure he would have been able to get Bell down from that roof on his own.

Woods flipped through his book. He wasn’t sure if he was really helping her by reading too, but it felt like leaving her to do it all alone might be too overwhelming. In fact the whole idea of it was overwhelming.

How do people pick out names?

Bell shifted on the cushion. She stood up, still holding open her book in her hands and did a slow paced lap around the apartment. Having her back completely changed the feeling of the apartment. It felt warmer, more inviting. And the idea of not having to come back to a cold and empty space again? He could definitely get used to it.

“How you doin?” Woods asked, looking up and watching her pace. He considered standing up himself. He set his book over his thigh and tilted his torso forward to give his back a good crack. Bell sighed.

“That sounds good.”

“Yeah?” Woods asked, a grin spread across his face, “Want me to pick you up? Crack your back?” He wasn’t actually sure he could do it with his shoulder still healing.

“Mm tempting,” She said as she completed another circuit. She rested one of her hands on her lower back. “How do people figure this stuff out?” She groaned, “All these names none of them seem right.”

“Maybe when you find the right one you’ll know.”

“I hope so.”

“What about in those books you were reading for fun? Any good names in there?”

She stopped walking to think it over.

“Not unless you think Meg suits me. Wendy? Mercédès?”

“Nah, never mind.”

Bell continued her reading and walking. As she did another lap he heard the floorboards creak behind his chair. And then stop. She had paused just behind him. He felt her fingers rest just on the skin at the base of his neck. It made the hairs on the back of his head stand on end. With one finger she pried his shirt away from the shoulder revealing his healing skin.

“This was the thermite?” Bell asked quietly.

“Yeah, the molinya.” Woods turned to look at her.

She let his shirt fall back into place, but let her hand linger for a moment before continuing her walk.

“Can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.”

“How could it be your fault?”

“If I hadn’t said anything about Duga-“

“Hey, it was a good thing,” Woods insisted, “Hell you even warned us. It wasn’t you. It would have been worse without you.”

Bell came around and sat down on the arm of the couch just across from him.

She could never just sit could she? Always had to be on the floor, or with her feet up, or like this, on the arm of the couch.

“What you found there- the recording. That’s what I saw in my dream. I saw Victoria record it.”

He watched her closely but said nothing. Bell looked away from him, her eyes narrowed. She tucked a loose hair behind her ear. He knew that gesture, she was thinking something through, gathering her thoughts.

“She seemed like she was, um, at war with herself. Maybe the gravity of the situation was hitting her.”

“What do you think she was doing?”

“Nova-6.” Bell sighed, “There were those sleeper agents right? And all that unaccounted for Nova-6. At least at the time.”

“But you don’t know for sure.”

“What else could it be? Victoria cracked the programming. Драгович.” Bell looked down at her hands in her lap.

“At the very least it’s good to know she hesitated. Some humanity left,” She said with a sigh.

“Never went off, though, did it?”

“What?”

“You think she was trying to use Dragovich’s sleeper agents in the states to activate those old Nova-6 stockpiles on civilians? But that didn’t happen.”

“Right, but that was 13 years ago. What’s even the half-life on that stuff?”

“A lot longer than 13 years.”

“How do you know that?”

“Just one of those things.”

“Frank, why doesn’t it bother you? Even if it failed, she still tried it. She broke the code-“ Bell stopped short, her eyes widened, and she jumped up from the arm of the couch. “Fuck, the notebook!”

“Notebook?”

“Yeah, she had all her stuff encoded and written in a book. She put it into a safe at Duga. Fuck. If I had fucking remembered sooner-”

“Oh, we got that.”

“You did?!” Bell threw her hands up. “Why the fuck was I trying to reverse engineer the recording if you had m- Victoria’s notebook?”

“Adler, took it.”

Bell’s shoulders slumped, and she took her seat again. But she accepted this answer. They both knew that it would be difficult to convince Adler to give her anything from her old life. Especially if it contained secrets, it wasn’t completely unreasonable. Adler, personally, had good reason not to trust her. He thought Woods and Mason were being naive.

“Did you get anything else?”

“Yeah, actually, I did. Hang on.”

He stood up and went to his room. From the nightstand drawer he pulled out a photo. He hadn’t been certain when he found it, but if there was any possibility that it was hers he wanted to make sure she got it. Who knew what Adler would do with it. When he came back to the living room he handed it to her.

It was a small black and white photo. Faded. And a little burned on the edges. The photo was of two girls. The younger one looking like she wanted to run off and play. The older had a serious expression on her face as she stared down the camera.

“They look familiar to you at all?”

Bell took the picture. At first her face showed no expression. Then she passed a finger over the smaller girl in the photograph.

“Where did you get this?”

“In the barracks. There was a private room. It looked like someone had tried to torch the place. Like they were really pissed off at whoever was supposed to be in there. Everything was wrecked. But this was tucked behind the nightstand. Hidden. Like someone knew it might get destroyed.” 


Bell clutched the picture to her chest. Sensing she might need a moment he stood up.

“I’m gonna get some more coffee. Want some?”

Bell nodded.

There was no telling when that fire had occurred. It could have easily been after Solovetsky. But it nagged at him. Victoria, had tucked it away for safekeeping for whatever reason. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part but her hesistation about the recording just added to his suspicion that she may not have been a willing participant in everything. And setting fire to her room? That was an act of rage. That maybe at the end she had a change of heart. That she betrayed Perseus. He poured the coffee into their mugs and headed out to the living room. Bell was just exiting her room.

“I put it in there for safekeeping.”

“Yeah, it’s yours,” He said with a shrug. It was funny now to have confirmation that the photo was actually hers. Seeing her as a kid. Hard to think that anyone he ever worked with were kids once. Hell, they probably had the same trouble with him, imagining him born with a full beard and tattoos. ==

Bell took the mug and curled up into one corner of the couch with a different book. He took his place on his chair again, picking up where he left off.

The stack of unread books was getting smaller. They’d have to make another trip to the library at this rate. Or find some other method for name-choosing. Woods could feel his eyes glazing over. It was a lot of reading for anyone. Even Bell seemed to be losing stamina. They had depleted the coffee again and she was in the kitchen making another pot.

In his lap he had a book open about famous figures from World War II. A name jumped out at him that made him chuckle. He sat up straighter to read the passage. At that moment Bell had come back in and was setting his coffee on the table.

“What’s up?”

“Just a name I recognize.”

“Old friend?” She asked, leaning over to look at the book. He caught a whiff of something floral in the air when moved closer to him.

“Nah, no way. Come on, I was just a kid then.” He pointed to a photo of a young woman in uniform. She was smiling and standing next to Eleanor Roosevelt.

“Russian sniper. Did a tour with Elenor Roosevelt, uh the First Lady, in the 40s after World War II. I remember seeing it in the papers when I was a kid. She killed so many they nicknamed her Lady Death. What I remember is how much the papers liked to talk about how she didn’t wear pretty clothes and makeup. Kind of funny, did all that and what do the papers care about? How good she looks in their photos.”

Bell perched herself on the arm of his chair and looked at the photograph. He caught another whiff of that floral scent. It was nice. Then he realized she must have taken another shower this morning. He hadn’t really noticed until now. But he could understand it. Imprisonment kind of has a smell that sticks with you, even if other people couldn’t smell it.

“That’s her?” Bell asked, shaking him from his thoughts.

“Yep.”

“Lyudmila Pavlichenko,” Woods said.

“I’m sure I heard of her at some point,” She said. Bell placed her hand on the book moving the page to read it better.

“Probably.” He looked up and watched her read. She at least seemed interested. It gave him the spark of an idea.

“What about that for you?”

“Lyudmila? You think I look like a Lyudmila?” It was a genuine question.

“I dunno,” He shrugged,” Tough gal, tough gal. Maybe use a nickname. Lyuda? Lydia?”

She raised her eyebrows and glanced at him. Then she looked back at the page. With her thumb she covered part of the name in the headline.

“How about this?”

He looked at the remaining letters.

“Mila?”

She looked back at him searching his face for a reaction.

“Mila,” He said again to her.

“Mila,” She said back. He nodded.

“Yeah, it suits you. At least try it on. If you don’t like it, we’ll pick up where we left off.”

“No more, Bell?”

He shook his head. She was looking at the book again. Skimming Lyudmila Pavlichenko’s bio again.

He tapped her knee to get her attention.

“So what do you say tomorrow that we take your name out for a spin?”

“What does that mean?” She asked brows knitted.

“Didn’t I promise to take you to a record store?”

Mila looked uncertain. As she wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

How nice it had been to come home to find Mason and Bell cooking something in the kitchen. 

Or sitting by the window smoking and having deep conversations. 

To wake up to a hot pot of coffee that someone else made. 

But now he was alone again. 

Spent most of his life alone, hadn’t he? 

How could it feel so foreign to him now?

The elevator halted at his floor, and he pushed the security gate aside to step out. 

Then he pulled it closed again, careful not to catch his fingers in the diamond-shaped webbing.

Woods opened the door to the apartment and kicked his shoes off. Carefully shrugging his jacket over his shoulders, he hung it on the empty rack and finally turned on the lights.

He looked around the apartment. It was already showing the signs of his solitary lifestyle.

Not that it wasn’t clean. 

There were takeout menus and disposable silverware scattered across the counter. 

Beer bottles waiting to be taken to the recycling depot. 

The empty space in the living room where a comfortable chair had once sat. Empty because he had dragged it over by the window.

What was the point in keeping the living room setup intact when he was the only one living there? 

Didn’t matter anyway. He’d be leaving this place soon. 

No need for one person to occupy a space meant for three.

Woods walked across the apartment to his room. The creak of the old wooden floors was magnified in the quiet space. 

When he opened the door, the hinges squeaked in protest, the sharp sound filling his ears. 

Not wanting to make more noise, he gently placed his wallet and keys on the nightstand. Woods unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on his bed. He then went back into the main room, heading towards the kitchen. 

Mason’s door was open, as it had been since the last time he was here. For the most part, Woods wasn’t concerned with how people kept their personal spaces. And he wouldn’t disturb their things to suit himself. Mason hadn’t closed the door, so Woods hadn’t closed it. And he must have passed it several times without giving it a second thought. But this time, he paused in the doorway and looked around. 

Mason would be clearing it out soon. Right now, it was a mess. Decades of being forced to be tidy had Mason rebel once he finally had a space of his own until, of course, Em came into the picture. 

Woods chuckled to himself, thinking about his friend and the woman he chose to marry. 

How much things had changed, and how much they stayed the same. 

Mason might clean up at home, but deep down, he didn’t mind the mess. 

Hell, maybe he even thrived in it. 

He was about to turn to leave when he noticed a days-old coffee cup sitting on the floor next to the bed. 

Well, food and drinks lying out would be the exception. Can’t have bugs crawling around the apartment. 

He walked in to pick it up. 

It was a good thing Mason only drank black coffee.

Woods stepped back out into the main room.

He passed Bell’s room, as well. Unlike Mason’s, her door was closed. No one had been in there since she was last in the apartment. 

How long had that been?

He placed two fingers on the knob, intending to open it. 

But for what? 

Bell always kept that room neat as a pin. There weren’t errant coffee cups to be collected. And she hadn’t asked for anything. 

Hadn’t needed anything.

He thought about all the things in there he had bought for her. He still felt a bit stupid about it. 

Walking into that department store, he realized he was completely out of his depth. Woods should have just let someone else handle it. But he knew they’d only buy her second-hand crap that didn’t even fit. Like they had before. 

And he couldn’t stand for that. He knew what it was like. When it wasn’t your choice, they always felt like other people’s clothes. 

Things were going to be shit for her. He thought she at least deserved some nice new stuff. 

But he overdid it. 

He knows he did. 

And she didn’t end up wanting any of it.

He dropped his hand away and continued towards the kitchen. 

What the hell would he do with all that stuff?

Let Mason give it to Em, probably. Though if Em found out Woods had been the one to buy it-

He laughed to himself at the thought.

Woods set the mug down in the kitchen. 

Then he looked at Bell’s door again. Drawn to it. He scoffed. 

Getting sentimental, Frank?

At the same time, he found himself striding over to it and once again, placed his hand on the doorknob. But this time he turned it. 

As expected, it was neat. Bed made. Everything in its place. Even though they had left in a hurry, she still managed to keep things tidy. Maybe, like the things in it, she didn’t see the room as her own. Or maybe that’s just how she was. 

He didn’t know which it was, and he felt a sense of loss at not knowing. 

And maybe never knowing. 

Woods sat on the edge of her bed and looked around. He hadn’t been in here in some time.  Neither of them had realized that when they left for Duga, it would be her last time seeing the room. 

Would she have packed more if she knew? 

He thumbed through a dog-eared book from a pile on her nightstand. 

Did she even bring a book? 

As he was flipping through the book he felt something soft hit his hip. He was too late to catch it and it rolled off the bed. Woods rescued it from the floor it was the Bubby doll he had bought her.  He clutched the doll between his hands, looking over its manic little face.

“Weird little man,” He said to it, echoing Bell’s words from what seemed like a lifetime ago. 

So much had happened since then. At that time, he thought she was just new to the team and a little lonely because of it. 

But she said that she felt like she was being held at a distance. 

That hadn’t made sense to him, then. Bell had seemed friendly enough, capable enough. 

Maybe if he had listened to her, he would have noticed that something was wrong earlier.

And then what would he have done?

Couldn’t save her from Adler. 

Couldn’t save her from her own mind. 

And now what? He was just readily abandoning her? 

Because another version of herself had said some things, he didn’t like?  

“You know, one of these days, you’re going to hear something you don’t like, and then you’re going to realize that this is all that I’m good for.”

And she had been right.

He sighed and stood up. Placing the doll back on the bed, he leaned it against the wall so it wouldn’t fall over again. 

Why the hell had he thought something like that might cheer her up? 

A stupid toy. 

After everything, she’d been through. All his gestures seemed so hollow to him now. 

Woods gave her room one last glance before closing the door. 

He walked to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. Opening the fridge, he discovered they were out of just about everything. 

At least it meant less stuff he’d have to move. 

He grabbed the remains of a brick of cheese, a pack of ham that was surprisingly untouched, and some mustard. Tossing two slices of bread on a plate he assembled his sandwich.

From the fridge, he grabbed another beer and carried that and the plate over to his chair. Slumping into it, he balanced the plate on his knee and ate as he looked out the window. The beer he set on the floor. 

As he sat and ate alone, every sound he made felt amplified in his ears again. 

The silence around him was oppressive. 

And it was as if his presence, his very existence in this place, was disturbing it.

What are you doing here?

He placed the plate on the windowsill and stood up. Then he opened the window to at least allow some of the street noise from below in to fill the apartment. 

West Berlin was never really quiet. 

Someone was always out having a good time. 

Or a bad time. 

Either way, the sound of other people was welcome. He settled back into the chair with his sandwich and his beer. 

After popping the last bit of sandwich in his mouth, he leaned back into the chair and just listened to the sounds of the walled city.

_______________________________________________________________

The plate hit the floor with a clatter. Jerking awake at the sound, Woods looked around, alarmed.

It took a moment for him to realize where he was and that he must have fallen asleep. He debated staying in the chair because it was fairly comfortable except for the ache in his shoulder. Shaking his head, he resigned himself to getting up. Woods braced his hands on the arms of the chair to help himself up. 

“Too young to be dozing off in chairs,” He muttered to himself, “Or too old.” 

One of those. 

Woods rubbed his head and looked at the floor to assess the damage. 

The plate had completely shattered. When he set his feet on the ground to stand, he had just missed landing his foot right on a particularly nasty shard of glass. 

“Lucky.”

It was still a fucking mess, though. 

That he’d have to clean up. 

Woods cursed himself and carefully stepped over the glass.

He grabbed a broom and dustbin from the kitchen and began to sweep it up. 

While he was working, the phone rang. 

Who the hell is calling this late?

He didn’t feel like talking to anyone. If anything, he just wanted to clean this glass up and go to bed.

There was nothing urgent going on. And he wasn’t on call. So this time, maybe he could just let it go to the machine. If it were pressing, he’d pick it up. Though that would mean it would be Hudson on the other line, and he definitely didn’t want to talk to him, right now, urgent or not. 

After a few rings, the answering machine beeped, and the cassette tape whirred to life. 

The default recorded message began to play, a woman speaking German with a robotic voice instructing the caller to leave a message. 

Woods pulled out the trashcan to dump out the contents of the dustbin. 

“Frank?” A soft voice called out to him from the speaker on the machine. 

He nearly dumped the dustbin on the floor. 

“I hope it’s ok to still call you that,” Bell said. 

It sounded to him like she was having trouble talking. Her voice was raw. She spoke slowly like it was difficult for her to get the words out.  Might have just finished a session.

How the hell did she get access to a phone?

Woods set the dustbin and broom aside and leaned against the kitchen counter. He folded his arms across his chest and listened to her message. 

A part of him wanted to pick up. But he didn’t move. He felt frozen in place, stunned by the sound of her voice. The other part of him didn’t want to interrupt her, rush her. Bell was probably exhausted, and he knew she could easily lose her train of thought. Or that maybe even picking up the phone might make her hang up. That talking to someone directly was different than just leaving a message. And he wanted to hear what she had to say, unfiltered. Or as unfiltered as she could get after an hours-long LSD-induced mind trip. 

“I just wanted to-” 

She paused, and the static feedback from the tape blended into the sound of her breathing.

Thinking? 

Catching her breath?

“I know I’m not gonna see you again,” She continued. 

That ache of loss hit him again. He felt the urge to pick up the phone, to argue with her. 

But no, he couldn’t because what she said was the truth. 

They weren’t going to see each other again, were they?

He had said it, thought it, but he hadn’t expected her to say it, too. There was something final about that.

The fact that they both knew.

“But I wanted to say- thanks for trying.”

Deep static-filled sigh.

“Tell Alex too, ok? And Frank, I-”

There was a very long pause. No static sounds. For a moment, he thought the call had disconnected. Then it sounded like something was moving against the receiver, and her voice carried through the speaker again. 

“I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to- I’m not giving up. This isn’t giving up-” 

Woods nearly dove for the receiver. But he wasn’t fast enough.

He was met with dead air when he finally got it to his ear.

The machine beeped, and he heard the whirring sound of the tape rewinding.  

This isn’t giving up. 

After a moment, an annoying sound blared through in his ear, alerting him that the call had disconnected.

_______________________________________________

“Look, Woods, she’s in trouble.”

Mason had warned him. He had told him that Bell was in trouble, that they were losing her. That in a rare moment of lucidity she had questioned Mason about him. Why was Mason alone trying to help her? Where was Frank? 

And the fact that he wasn’t there, in her mind, meant she was irredeemable. 

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change.

If he had listened back then-

“Goddamn fucking stubborn-” He cursed himself again. 

And he had lied to Mason, hadn’t he? 

Maybe not lied, but omitted some of the truth.

About the notes, the ones Bell left in the margins of her decryptions. Some of it was just venting.

But- 

This isn’t giving up.

She was such a tough gal, wasn’t she?

It was easy to tell himself that she’d hold out. Something like this wasn’t enough to break her. 

And he hadn’t been on board with this whole thing anyway. She must have known that, too, deep down. Bell wasn’t really waiting on him. No matter what she said, she was tough as hell, had gotten through worse, and would crawl her way out, right?

But why him? Why was he suddenly the moral standard? Why was his judgment so important to her? If Bell had just left it up to Mason, let him give her the forgiveness and acceptance she needed, she would be home already. 

Woods wasn’t this fucking unbiased judge. She was wrong to think he was. 

The very fact that he couldn’t put those deep-seated feelings, the pain of rejection, aside just to help this woman. Just to help his- his friend. That should have been enough to know he shouldn’t be in the business of judging anyone.

Easier to pretend he just didn’t care.

Easier for who?

But you do care, you idiot.

That’s why it bothered you so much.

When he got back, it had been hard to hear shit like that from strangers.

That this whole time everyone thought he had been the bad guy. 

So he did what he did best. Developed a thick skin. Isolated himself from strangers. Easy to do when his appearance intimidated people enough that they avoided him. 

But coming from her, it was different. 

And yes, they had been enemies at the time. Not that they had known each other.

But to think that at some point those words had crossed her lips?

That a person he cared about would have at one point thought he was a monster. Worth killing indiscriminately. Lumping him in with some of those pieces of shit.

And so what did he do? He pushed her away before she could do it to him. Because he didn’t want to see that judgment on her face when he looked at her. And he decided, without talking to her, that was the reason why she didn’t want to see him and Mason. 

Because it was easier. 

“Fucking-” Woods exclaimed, slapping the leather of the steering wheel in irritation. 

The light finally fucking changed. And from there on every light was with him. And soon he found himself turning into the dirt parking lot in front of the Safehouse. 

Park was there. He had called before he left. Half hoping Bell was still by the phone. But Park had picked up.

He never thought he’d like to hear the sound of her voice. But he did because at least she wasn’t Adler. Hudson he could at least get to check on Bell. Adler, stubborn bastard. 

Well, actually, he’d probably check on her, too. All that info in her brain was fueling his obsession, wasn’t it?  Couldn’t lose the last bit of intel he had.

Park had sounded relieved to speak to him.

Glad he was coming for Bell. 

Take her home. 

Is that what he was going to do? Hell, he didn’t even know what Bell wanted.

Would she even come back with him?

Woods stepped out of the van. 

Something about being this close made his stomach twist in knots.

Park was waiting for him inside.

“I told her you were coming. She’s just taking a shower.”

“You think she understood you?” 

Park shook her head, “Hard to say. I find, more and more, that she’s just going through the motions.”

He sighed and took a seat at the workbench. That’s something they’d have to work through. But maybe if she weren’t being drugged and held in a cell, she’d get better. Maybe if she was around people- though was he much company for anyone?

He had to hope that it wasn’t too late.

“You said she called you?” Park asked after a moment of silence.

“Yeah, you give her a phone?”

Park shook her head.

“Huh.”

Hadn’t she escaped from that facility more than once? Enough to piss everyone there off. And take out a few guards? 

And her memories. Hell, she had run from a hospital when she was a kid.

He frowned. Maybe she slipped out of her cell. But to what? Make a phone call?

“What about Adler? Hudson?” He craned his neck to see if either of them were around.

“They’ve gone.”

Woods nodded. He was glad they weren’t here. Park would help him get Bell out. Hudson could chew him out later. Like he cared. 

“How long has she been in there?” 

Furrowing her brow, Park checked her watch. Her expression told him everything. Before she could respond, he was up and striding toward the locker room. 

When he opened the door, he could hear the water running. 

“Hey?” Woods called as he stepped in. 

No response.

Maybe she couldn’t hear him over the water?

He walked over to the entrance to the showers and called again, a little louder this time.

“Hey, you in there?”

Still no response.

“Come on, it’s me,” He said, even louder this time, “Not one of those assholes here to torture you.”

I’m taking you home. 

He had finally decided. Whatever it took to convince her, he’d figure it out. 

A thought crossed his mind, and he looked up to the small frosted ventilation windows lining the room just under the ceiling. 

Could she get up there? 

Fit through one of them?

What if she had run? 

A part of him almost hoped she had. That she got out. She was smart enough to take care of herself. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with all of this bullshit any longer. 

You’d miss her though, wouldn’t you? 

You already do. 

“Come on, answer me, or I’m coming in.” 

He really didn’t want to just walk in on her. Scare the shit out of her. 

Or make her angry. Especially if she really couldn’t hear him.

Woods set his jaw. Of course, she might not be responding because she’s not herself.

“Shit,” He muttered to himself. Then he grabbed a towel, just in case, and stepped into the shower room.

He could just make out a figure slumped against the wall through the steam. Dark wet hair curtained her face. Bell was still dressed, in shorts and a t-shirt, but everything was soaked through. Woods turned off the water and knelt down beside her. The water on the floor seeped into the knees of his jeans. 

“Hey?” He said, hoping she would look up. And when she didn’t a rush of nervous energy coursed through him. Woods shook her shoulders in an attempt to rouse her. But her head just lulled back resting against the tile wall. Her eyes were half open. Lips parted and moving only slightly in the way someone does when they are working something out in their head. 

“Come on, don’t talk to them, talk to me,” He said more urgently. Trying to get her to ignore the voices in her head. Look at him. Acknowledge him. 

Fucking recognize him. 

“We need Adler,” Park said, “The trigger phrase will rouse her.” 

She was standing in the entryway. She must have followed behind him. He wondered if she paused to call Adler. 

“That’s the last fucking thing she needs,” Woods shot back. He wrapped the towel around Bell and pulled her close to him protectively. He was not going to let Adler anywhere near her. 

Ignoring Park, he said, “Come on. You gotta wake up. I can’t lift you with my shoulder like this.”

The sound of wet footsteps echoed in the room. Park walked up behind him.

“She doesn’t need him,” He said, this time speaking to Park. Preemptively countering the argument, he thought she was walking over to make. “Should have never let him come back.”

Gently he moved a few wet strands of hair away from Bell’s face. He combed them back, so they fell neatly into place. 

“Come on then, we need to at least take her out of here. Dry her off.” 

“Can’t.”

“I can.”

She knelt down with her arms outstretched waiting to take Bell from Woods. He reluctantly let her go. It’s not like Park was going to run off with her. 

Park scooped her up easily. Woods walked behind. Feeling useless again.

What could he even do for her?

Keep Adler away. Stop the fucking drugging. 

Park carried her back to the room where they had been holding her. 

It was a disaster. The complete opposite of her room at the apartment. 

The second cot in the room had been turned on its side. A large gash cut through the canvas so no one could use it. Papers scattered everywhere. 

Writing all over the walls. Some encoded. Some resembled the rants he had seen on her notes before. 

There were dark red blood stains on the wall and door.

He helped Park as best he could to dry Bell off and get her changed. 

When they were done, Park left the room. He had gotten her to agree to let him try to get through to Bell without intervention from Adler.

Woods pulled a blanket over Bell and tucked it under her to keep her warm. Then he sat on the ground next to her cot.  

“Park thinks you need Adler. I think you’re tougher than that,” He said as he stroked the hair around her face. It was still a bit damp. 

“Finally got it together and came here. Because I heard you were asking about me. And yeah, I know you said you didn’t want to see me, but I don’t believe that for a second. But now you’re not going to even wake up for me?”

Woods studied her face for any sign that she could hear him, but there was none.

“I know I took a long time. You can give me shit for it when you wake up. Call me an asshole.”

He took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. 

“Hell, I’ll let you take a swing at me. A freebie.” 

In the quiet, he could hear the soft sound of her whispered conversation. 

The conversation she was having with the person or people in her head. 

Mason had those sometimes. Talking to a long-dead Reznov.

Who were you talking to?

“Come on. I still owe you. I said I’d take you to the record store. All that sad shit you were listening to? You need to know the classics, too.”

He thought about how he had found her in the living room listening to damn Dust In The Wind. Of all the songs to listen to. Though Woods supposed he could understand why it might resonate with her now. Especially if it was her first time hearing it. But no, she needed to know other songs. Expand her music catalog. Maybe find stuff on her own and develop her own tastes. 

Things that might- what? Make her happy?

He cleared his throat.

“Got all these books, too, from the library. So we can get you a name. Unless you want to be called Victoria,” He chuckled, then added, “But if you don’t wake up soon, I’m gonna start calling you Vicky.”

Woods could just see her making a face at that. Scrunching up her nose. He looked hopefully at her like maybe she was doing that already. That maybe the joke would stir something in her. But nothing. Just the constant whispering.

He sighed. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Leaning his back against the edge of the cot he looked around the room. 

“Never should have left you here. Should have taken that cot over there if you wouldn’t come with me. I can be just as stubborn as you, too, you know.” 

He kicked the damaged cot. 

The same one he slept on the last time he was in this room. He wondered why she destroyed it.

“I’m sorry.”

The room was quiet then. Quiet because Bell had stopped whispering.

“Oh fuck,” Bell sat on the edge of the hotel bed in her underwear. She stared at the strange lacy thing Park left for her. Running her hands over the material, she lifted one of the four thin straps and inspected it.

“What the hell is this?”

Included with this was a fabric band that, best she could discern, would go around her thigh, and an attached sleeve meant to hold a small handgun.

But the rest of this was a mystery.

“Maybe I can just,” Bell stood up, slipped the band over her leg, and pulled it into position on her thigh.

“Ha! There!” She said, placing her hands on her hips in triumph. She didn’t need the fancy torture device after all. Tossing the whatever-it-was aside, she looked through the other items Park left out for her.

Earpiece, of course. Gun, of course. Some sort of hair thing that she would figure out, makeup, the dress hanging on a hook, two pairs of stockings (one for backup), and a box likely containing her shoes.

Grabbing the makeup and hair thing, she went to the vanity and began to work. The makeup was simple, foundation, red lipstick, mascara. And the hair thing turned out to be a clip so she easily fixed her hair up in a half-up half-down style with a bit of volume at the top.

“Ok, you got this,” She said to her reflection. It was way more makeup than she was used to, but she thought she did a good job. And she hoped the feeling of the makeup on her face would either go away or she’d get used to it as the night progressed.

“You’ve infiltrated and escaped from way more dangerous places than a mansion ballroom. This isn’t a big deal. You just need to make your way across a dance floor, break into a room, let Mason and Woods in, and you’re done. You’re done. No one is even going to notice you.”

Bell tipped open the shoebox and gasped in surprise. Reaching into the box, she removed one of the shoes. She had expected something understated and black, but these were covered in silver glitter.

Surely they were the wrong shoes.

Someone had mixed up the boxes.

She sat back down on the bed, holding the shoe carefully in her hand as she looked it over.

Definitely a mistake. She would have to call Park and maybe they could find the right shoes in time.

But she didn’t make a move towards the phone. Instead, she placed one shoe on the floor and plucking its twin from the box, she set that down next to it.

Bell had never been a person who was particularly interested in shoes. She spent most of her time in boots and while she kept them clean and in good shape, she chose them first and foremost for their practicality.

In fact, overall, she preferred more practical attire and avoided dressing up if she could help it. Up until she started working with Adler again most of her work was done behind the scenes. Decryptions, encryptions, and translations consumed her daily life with the occasional fieldwork here and there as necessary. Jeans, boots, and leather jackets were more her speed. Also much easier to run in.

Did she even own a pair of heels, herself? She couldn’t remember.

She for sure didn't own anything quite this pretty.

She slipped her feet into each shoe. And then she stood. Park had given her some tips on wearing heels, but she still felt very awkward. Bell walked to the mirror to take a look. Standing in her underwear, she was able to observe how the heels improved the definition of her leg muscles and lifted her butt.

Right, this is why people wear these.

Fashion.

She laughed to herself.

“Ugh I feel so stupid,” Bell said to her reflection, “I’m not this person.”

Then Bell reached out for the dress.

“Time to complete the clown costume,” She muttered to herself as she took the dress off the hanger. It had a high back, necessary to hide her scars, but a sharply plunging neckline, tailored in such a way that it covered her healing chest wound.

Bell unzipped the tiny side zipper and was about to slip into the dress when the garter band around her leg fell to the floor.

“Shit,” She slipped it off her foot. If it wouldn’t stay up on its own it definitely wasn’t staying up with a gun in it. And there was nowhere else to hide it in that dress.

Enough of this nonsense.

With a twinge of regret, she removed the shoes, and put them back in the box, ready to trade them for a simple black pair. Or maybe she could even convince Park and Adler that she needed to do this mission with Mason and Woods. Trade the black dress for a black turtleneck.

She dialed Park’s room.

The phone rang and rang.

“Damnit,” She exclaimed hanging up.

Would she have to go into this without a gun?

That’s when she heard a knock from the adjoining room.

“Hey,” Woods’ voice traveled through the door, “Bell, you ready?”

“Ummm, I am-” Bell crossed her arms over her chest, “I’m having some trouble.”

She heard an exasperated sigh on the other side of the door.

“Woods, is Park still around?”

“No, she left already. Remember we were staggering arrival times,” He paused, “You and I needed to be out of here 5 minutes ago.”

“I know, I know, I just-” Bell looked back at the items strewn on the bed.

“What do you need?”

“Hang on,” Bell pulled on the white button-up she had been wearing earlier and opened the door.

“You’re not even dressed yet?!”

And now she was pissing Woods off.

“I don’t know how to-” Bell sighed and picked up the stupid lacy thing holding it up to him.

To her surprise, a smile broke over Woods’ face.

“What?” Bell could feel her frustration growing, “Come on, Woods! I don’t do this girly stuff!”

Woods shook his head, “I can help you if you want.”

“Can you?” She looked at him doubtfully.

“Look,” he said, taking the garter belt and kneeling in front of her, “You take enough of these off- you kind of know how they work.”

“You take a lot of these off?” Bell bit her lip.

She’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t like this position they were in.

Woods looked up at her and winked.

He lifted her shirt enough to wrap the belt around her waist, his hand brushing against her stomach. She flinched and could have sworn she saw the corner of his mouth go up. Then he carefully pulled it into place and gently straightened the straps over her thighs. His knuckles ran over her bare skin sending a small thrill through her.

“Ok, sit on the bed,” Woods said, and she complied. As she sat he dragged a chair over and began unraveling the stockings.

“Foot, please,” He patted his leg expectantly, and she placed her foot on it. Bell watched as he gathered the stocking together and slipped it over her foot and up to her ankle.

“Think you can manage from here?” His eyes met hers. There was humor there. He was teasing her.

Bell nodded, though she would have liked to have an excuse to feel his hands on her bare skin again. Traveling up her thighs. Maybe further. Fuck this mission-

Bell shook the thought from her head and she grabbed the top of the stocking. As she pulled it up, one perfectly manicured nail went straight through the nylon.

She groaned.

Woods laughed, “Wow, you really aren’t used to this, are you?” He reached for the second pair, “There's an art to it. Can’t tell you how many replacements of these I’ve had to buy-”

“You can’t tell me?” She said in a deadpan.

Internally her stomach was twisting in knots.

He laughed again though she thought she could detect some awkwardness. Maybe he felt like he had revealed too much.

“You just have to be careful. Go slow,” Woods took out a fresh stocking and once again gathered it together. He slipped it over her foot, then he pulled it up her thigh. Her leg twitched involuntarily when he reached for the strap on her garter belt and lined it up with the top of the stocking. Then he did the same to the back. And finally, he helped her with the second stocking. They sat there for a moment, Bell’s feet on Woods’ lap, Woods’ hands still resting on her thigh.

She was surprised how comfortable she felt with him. Even if her stomach was doing backflips every time she saw him.

She entertained the idea of sliding down from the bed and into his lap. Straddling him on that chair. As that thought crossed her mind their eyes met again.

Yeah, as if he’d be interested. He clearly had his pick of women.

Probably why he mentioned it, twice. Didn’t want her to get any ideas.

So she dismissed the thought from her mind.

“I guess I should-” She dropped her feet to the carpet.

“Uh, yeah,” Woods seemed to shake himself out of his own thoughts, “You got the, uh, band right?”

He scratched the back of his head and looked away from her.

“Yep. Oh, what should I do about these?” She pointed at the heels.

“Those go on your feet, Cinderella.”

“I know, but they’re so shiny.”

Woods shrugged, “You’re just going to have to wear ‘em, I guess. Come on we don’t have a lot of time before I turn back into a pumpkin.”

Bell laughed at this. Woods winked at her before stepping out of the room.

She took off the button-down and picked up the dress again, stepping into it. Bell reached for the zipper but it wouldn’t budge.

She groaned.

“What is it, now?” Woods poked his head in through the door.

“Zipper’s stuck.”

“What would you do without me?”

“Go to this thing naked I guess.”

He chuckled and zipped her up.

“Might blow your cover.”

Bell looked at herself in the mirror. She traced the neckline of the dress with a finger.

Why couldn’t she shake this discomfort she felt while wearing these clothes? What the hell was the matter with her?

It’s not like she was shy.

“Something wrong?”

“I just- I feel like I look ridiculous.”

Woods studied her face.

“You’re kidding right?”

“This isn’t me and people are going to know right away,” She balled her fists, “I know it shouldn’t matter and I need to shake it off for the mission- and I will. I just feel like a child playing dress-up. I’m going to stand out like a sore thumb.”

“Oh, you might stand out, but not for the reason you think,” He leaned against the wall observing her for a moment then he checked his watch, “Hey, we gotta go.”

_________________________________________________________

With Woods playing the part of her driver they made their way to the party. She would enter as a guest and he would park the car and slip onto the grounds. There he would meet up with Mason who should have overridden the cameras with Park’s assistance. It was Bell’s job to find the panic room and get Mason and Woods inside. As well as subdue any guards who might get in their way. Routine stuff.

Woods pulled up in the large driveway and Bell watched in awe at the arrivals. Beautiful people made their way gracefully up the stairs. They were dressed to the nines and they all seemed so comfortable. Like they were born to play these roles.

Panic hit her again. She wished she didn’t have to do this alone. It would be a lot easier to blend in with someone else.

Woods reached over and nudged her arm.

“Hey, you gonna go?”

Bell placed her hand on the door handle but didn’t move.

“I just-”

“Hey, Bell, look at me.”

She turned her head.

“I’ve seen you do way more dangerous stuff than this without batting an eye, are you sure you’re ok?”

Bell didn’t say anything.

At least he let her redo her makeup before they went back downstairs. She’d get some looks with smeared lipstick and mascara running down her face, that’s for sure. Though she was still wearing the dress - with the straps adjusted to make them even. 

Luckily, she didn’t have to feel too overdressed, the hotel had hosted a wedding earlier, and from the looks of it some of the guests had made their way to the bar after the ballroom had closed.

Bell crossed her legs and took a sip of her beer. 

“God, those guys are having fun,” Mason, beer in hand, pointed to a group of wedding guests who were very overserved dancing and singing to music that wasn’t even playing. 

Bell looked over her shoulder and, at that moment, caught the eye of one of the guests. She noticed that someone was looking at Mason as well.

“Shit!” She hissed and turned back, “Think we’re about to have company.”

“Yeah, me,” Woods said as he walked up to their table and set his beer down. 

“Good timing,” Mason nudged him in the ribs, “Bell was gonna have to beat them off with a stick.”

At that, Woods turned to Bell and rested his hand on the back of her chair.

“That so? Should we leave you to it, Bell?” 

While he had a smile on his face, there was an odd look in Woods’ eyes when he said it. 

Was he upset ? Had she taken things too far in the van? 

Bell meant what she said, but she wasn’t so sure she should have said it out loud.

The adrenaline from their escape had still been coursing through her system, so she took a risk. 

And then Mason had interrupted them before Woods could respond. 

“One of them was checking you out, Mason,” Bell deflected.

“Don’t mention that. I even look in that direction, and Em’s gonna know.”

“You like to pretend you’re on such a tight leash,” Woods rolled his eyes, “Em used to be in the CIA with us. She knows how it is.” 

“Oh, how is it in the CIA, exactly ?” Bell asked with a faux innocent tone before taking a sip of her beer.

“How do you think she and Mason ended up together?” 

Bell pressed a hand to her chest, looking at Mason wide-eyed, pretending to be scandalized.

“ Mason. ” 

Mason sighed, “Not you, too. Come on, Bell, I bought you a beer.”

“That’s true you did,” Bell said as she leaned forward and placed both hands on her beer. 

Woods was still resting his hand on the back of her chair. She caught a whiff of his cologne. Unlike her and Mason, he had taken the time to shower and change before heading downstairs. That surprised her. Bell thought he’d be quick to grab a beer, or even something harder, after the night they just had. He had also changed into jeans and a sweater. He looked good and was getting his share of glances from the wedding guests around them.

Mason checked his watch.

“Oh, I told Em I’d call her tonight,” His tone was a little strange, “Guess I’ll go do that.”

Bell and Woods both watched him go.

“That was abrupt,” Bell observed.

“Yeah,” Woods took the seat across from her. He set his drink down close to hers. 

She began to feel nervous. 

He wouldn’t want to talk here, right? 

Or would that be better? 

Get it out in public, and she could hide in her room until morning.

Bell cringed at the thought of talking about it at all. 

But instead, Woods gestured to the wedding guests, “They seem like a fun group.”

“Very different from the party this evening,” She agreed but did not turn to look. Accidentally catching the eye of a drunken wedding guest again would only add to the awkwardness she already felt.

“Oh yeah, so after all that, what did you think of that party?”

“It wasn’t so bad. I was able to skirt the ballroom pretty easily,” She played with the label on her beer as she spoke, “I don’t know what I was so worried about.”

Bell glanced up at him, he had been looking at her face as she spoke, but his expression wasn’t revealing much. 

“I did manage to catch a waiter and try some hor d’eourves,” Bell went on, “I wish I could have gone back for more.”

Woods chuckled at this statement.

“Like you wouldn’t eat the food!” 

“Oh I definitely have. It’s just that Mason and I were joking about asking you to smuggle some food in for us.”

“In what?” She gestured to her dress, “This doesn’t exactly have pockets.”

His wide grin faded slightly as he looked her over, “Yeah, guess you’re right.”

“Though this dress is surprisingly versatile, isn’t it? Great for dancing, cocktail parties, late-night weddings, and shootouts at French arms dealer’s mansions,” Bell said with a smirk, “Would have been interesting to poke around that panic room, though.” 

Woods hummed in response. He had a strange look on his face.

“What?”  

He placed his hands around his beer as if studying the label intently. Then he took a swig, wiped his mouth, and cleared his throat before setting it down again. Bell looked at him expectantly.

“You shouldn’t have been in there.”

“Oh, come on, Woods-”

“You’re dressed like that because you were supposed to be a guest, so you could walk out with them when the shit hit the fan,” He said gruffly. His blue eyes flicked up to meet hers. 

He was serious . 

Bell couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was he scolding her? Yeah, she had told them to stand down, but she had handled it, hadn’t she? She did her job.

Adler certainly didn’t have a problem with it.

“Don’t tell me you were worried?” The side of her mouth turned up, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. 

When he didn’t respond, her smile faded.

“I thought you were impressed,” Bell shook her head in disbelief, “Isn’t that what you said in the van?” 

Fuck she didn’t want to bring up the conversation from the van, but he wasn’t making sense to her.

“Yeah, Bell, you did great. I keep running it over in my head. It was a huge risk-”

She could feel her ears getting hot, she barely heard what he said.

“I’ve taken risks before,” Bell interrupted, “You didn’t think I could handle it? I saved you and Mason twice.”

“No, Bell-” Woods put his hands up.

But she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. 

It was apparent to her that he hadn’t thought she could handle it. But why? They had gone on dangerous missions before. Hadn’t she proved herself? 

Maybe she didn’t have as much experience in the field as Woods and Mason- who did really? 

But she thought she had at least gained some of his trust and respect. 

“Is this because of what I said?” She didn’t wait for him to respond before continuing, “I felt insecure for a moment. I thought I was confiding in a- I thought you were someone I could trust with that.”

“Whoa, hang on,” Woods pointed to himself, “After everything, you don’t think you can trust me ?”

“I can trust you in the field. Sounds like that’s about it,” She wrapped her arms around herself and looked away from him.

Woods huffed and picked up his beer. He leaned back in his chair and looked anywhere but at her. 

A silence fell over them. Bell leaned back in her chair and pretended to scan the room as well. Conversation usually flowed easily between them, so the silence magnified the tension. 

She didn’t think he would judge her so harshly for telling him that she felt out of place. If anything, Bell had thought, based on everything she knew about him, he might understand. It sure seemed like he had. 

Well, that was a mistake. 

Bell stood up, “I’m tired. I should head upstairs.”

Woods looked surprised, “You haven’t finished your beer.”

Bell shrugged. 

“Fine. Guess I’ll see ya,” Woods took a drink from his beer and appeared interested in something on the other side of the room.

Bell set her jaw and turned towards the exit. 

She strode out of the bar and headed for the elevator bay. While Bell waited for the elevator, she felt her anger quell. Maybe she had reacted too quickly. 

She hadn’t let him speak. 

But did she need to? 

She had to admit she was a bit disappointed. But she reminded herself that she didn’t know Woods that well. There must have just been this idea of him in her mind formed from hearing all the stories people told about him- and Mason. Bell had only met them, what, a month ago? Maybe less?

Well, that’s fine. No one else on the team was particularly warm with her, so why should he be any different? Once this mission was over, she’d probably be back behind a desk, anyway. So who cares what he thought of her personally? 

It was her fault anyway. She knew she couldn’t be vulnerable with these people. She should have known they would have judged her for it. The only reason why she thought Woods might be different is that she wanted him to be different. And that was stupid. 

Her heels dug into the soft rug under her feet.

Bell sighed. 

It would be nice to get out of the dress and take a shower. 

Against her better judgment, she glanced back at the bar. 

Woods was still sitting at the table, but he wasn’t alone. Someone had taken the seat she had vacated. It looked like they were in conversation.

As much as she’d like to tell herself she didn’t care, she still did. But that feeling would fade if she could just stop focusing on it. 

Bell turned her attention back to the elevator, which was still making its achingly slow descent to the lobby.

Likely held up by wedding guests going back and forth between their rooms and the bar. 

Looking down the other side of the hallway, she saw Mason sitting in one of the private phone booths. 

Why didn’t he use the phone in his room? 

Maybe to give Woods some space, she realized. 

She shifted her feet, anxious to get upstairs. 

A melodic sound caught her ear. The elevator had finally arrived.

A crowd of drunken wedding guests flooded out of the elevator once the door opened. They parted to make room for her and immediately joined back together behind her. 

Bell stepped inside the elevator and leaned against the handrail, sighing. The doors were nearly closed when someone caught the bumper, triggering them to open again. 

It was a man in a suit. He had his arm around a woman in a cocktail dress. They staggered into the elevator and huddled in a corner. They were drunk. Thankfully, they kept their voices low, but occasionally the woman let out a soft sound.

Bell gritted her teeth and stared hard at the floor indicator panel, willing the elevator to move faster. 

The numbers lit up in turn as the ancient elevator slowly ascended.

When the elevator reached her floor with a ding, she felt relieved to finally be able to step out and head for her room.

“...should have asked her….” Bell could hear the woman say before she burst into giggles, and the door closed, muffling any other sound.

She turned her key and walked inside, letting the door shut before bolting it. Then she sighed and sat at the vanity.

Unclipping her hair, she shook it out and picked an errant piece of glass out of it.

Under the focused vanity light, even under her makeup, it was easy to make out the cuts and bruises on her face. 

“Ugh, aren’t you a mess,” Bell grimaced at herself in the mirror. 

Looking down, she inspected the shoes. They seemed to be the only thing still in good shape, which was a surprise. Running in heels was challenging, but she thought she managed pretty well. Though she hoped she’d never have an assignment like that again. Turtleneck, boots, and armor were preferable to heels, makeup, and nothing between her and a bullet but some silky fabric. The scar on her chest peeked out from under the edge of the dress. She traced her finger over it. 

“Armor didn’t help you much then, now did it?”

She had gotten lucky, then. She had been lucky tonight, too. 

Every night any of them came back alive was at least partially due to luck, wasn’t it?

A knock on the adjoining door shook her from her thoughts.

Rising from the vanity, she walked over and opened the door.

“Woods? I thought-” She stopped. 

What did she think? That he’d be spending more time at the bar? That he wouldn’t be going upstairs alone? 

Well, he wasn’t alone now was he?

“Place suddenly wasn’t so interesting,” He said with a grin, “Miss me?”

Bell studied his face impassively. She noted that he had removed his sweater and was only wearing his undershirt and jeans.

“Look-” He started but stopped mid-sentence. He was looking at something on the side of her head. Raising a hand, he touched- her hair? No, something was in her hair. When he pulled away, he showed her a tiny piece of glass in his palm.

“Oh, I thought I got all of those,” Bell frowned at the fragment in his hand, “Thanks.”

She raked her fingers through her hair to shake out more.

“Whoa, hang on,” Woods put his hands out to stop her, “You’re gonna cut yourself.” 

Woods stepped into her room and guided her to stand by her vanity. He placed the piece of glass on the countertop. 

“Lighting is better here,” He said as he raised his hands to her hair again. 

“I don’t need help.”

“Getting these out of short hair is impossible,” Woods shook his head, “I can only imagine what it’s like with long hair.”

“Yeah, well, normally I have my hair up and under a beanie, don’t I? It’s fine. I’ve got it.”

“Bell, not everything is criticism.” 

Tentatively he raised his hands to her hair again. When she didn’t push him away, he carefully combed through her hair with his fingers.

He still hadn’t said why he had knocked on her door. 

Bell should be annoyed. 

He was acting as if nothing had happened. 

Though she had to admit it was so much easier to pretend. 

Because she was still wearing the heels, her eye level was at his shoulders. Standing this close to him, she noticed that his white undershirt wasn’t hiding much. She could just make out his muscle movements under the fabric. Bell felt the urge to reach up and touch him, run her hands over the rough white cotton covering his chest, and feel his body heat on her skin. Slip her fingers under the hem of the shirt and pull it off him. 

But of course, she didn’t. Instead, she closed her eyes. The feeling of Woods’ hands in her hair was so soothing. She was surprised to be touched with such gentleness from this big man with whom she had escaped a shootout only hours ago. 

A shootout he thought she couldn’t handle. 

This guy doesn’t trust you. 

Remember?

And here she was, allowing him to take care of her again. 

Did he think she was so incompetent she couldn’t even clean herself up?

“All right, Bell. You’re good.” 

She opened her eyes again to Woods, giving her another unreadable look. 

Well, she supposed she couldn’t blame him. She probably looked like an idiot standing there with her eyes closed and mouth open. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He was still giving her that look. Then his hand went to her chin as he tilted her face up. Bell felt a thrill in the pit of her stomach. With their faces so close, she could smell mint on his breath. 

“Need help getting bandaged up?” 

Bell realized then he was examining the bruise there. 

“No,” She found herself saying as she brushed his hand away, “I’ve got it, thanks.”

She didn’t want any more of his help. Even if it meant feeling his hands on her again, it wouldn’t lead to anything except her wanting him more. And what she needed to do was to shake him from her brain.

But he didn’t leave, so she met his eye.

“What?” 

“Took me a while to learn,” Woods stroked the hair of his mustache with his thumb and index finger. She could tell he was thinking things through, being careful with his next statement. 

“But you know it’s ok to accept help sometimes,” He finished.

“Well, when I need it, I’ll ask for it,” She said in a tone that was sharper than she had intended.

“All right,” He said softly, tapping her shoulder as he moved to leave.

“Woods-” 

“It’s ok,” He held a hand up, “I was being pushy.”

Woods walked to the door and opened it. 

“You’re wrong about me, y’know,” He looked at her over his shoulder, “I’ll be honest, it pissed me off to hear you say it.  But I think I know why you did. You can trust me, Bell. I know you don’t believe me, but you really can.”

Bell kept her expression even. 

She’d like to believe it. It would be easier in the short term.

He let out a soft sigh and moved into his room, placing his hand on his door as if he were about to close it.

“Goodnight, Bell.”

“Goodnight, Woods.”

He gave her a little smile, “Frank. At least call me Frank.”

Something about his tone seemed a little sad. Disappointed.

She could have stopped him, but her heels were rooted into the soft carpet of her hotel room.

“Goodnight, Frank.”

With a soft grin he closed the door. Once she heard the lock slide into place, she moved to close to the adjoining door on her side. Even after it was closed, Bell held her hands against it as if she was bracing for something to burst through it. But nothing would. And Woods wasn’t going to knock on her door again. 

Quietly cursing herself, she roughly unzipped her dress and dropped it to the floor. She kicked it in frustration. The silky fabric skidded across the carpet but stopped short. 

Very unsatisfying.

Sitting down at the vanity in a huff, Bell frowned disdainfully at her reflection. She needed to shower and go to bed. She shifted her body to stand up again when something on the vanity caught the light and drew her eye. 

It was the glass Woods had pulled from her hair. Bell turned it over in her fingers, examining it. A flash of light reflected in the mirror, and she looked at herself again. Setting the glass piece down, Bell placed her hand on the garter belt she was still wearing. 

With her thumb, she traced the stiff top edge of the fabric. She fought the urge to rip it off.

She remembered how it felt when Woods ran his hand over her stomach as he put it in place, how the corners of his mouth had turned up when she flinched at his touch. At the time, she assumed he just thought it was funny that he got a reaction from her.

It was easier to pretend he didn’t care. 

To think of him as just some asshole. 

To push him away at the slightest perceived infraction. 

But she was the one who decided that he had judged her. 

Her snap reaction to her letting her guard down. 

He had seen her nervous and uncomfortable. She had let him in for only the briefest moment, which was terrifying. 

That’s what it was about. 

Woods had helped her.  

And he hadn’t deserved her shitty attitude. 

She should at least apologize.

Bell stood up. Not wanting to deal with the dress again, she picked up the button-down she had discarded earlier in the evening and threw it on. 

“Time to get this over with.”

She opened her door and stood behind it and raised her hand to knock. 

What was she going to say? 

Sorry for being a stubborn ass? 

Not the best opener, exactly. But Woods might like it. He might have a few adjectives of his own to add. 

“Fuck it,” Bell muttered to herself and rapped gently on his door. 

He didn’t say anything when he opened the door, and his expression was once again unreadable.

Bell opened her mouth to apologize. To say she misunderstood him. 

She was an idiot. 

But Woods spoke first. 

“I know you can handle yourself,” He folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe, “It wasn’t about that.”

“Then what was it about?”

Woods ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Me, Bell,” He stepped past her and into her room, “My own stuff.”

She gave him a curious look.

He sighed, “I- when you were stuck in that room. You didn’t have armor. You had that little peashooter some people like to call a gun -”

To her surprise, Woods sat on her bed. 

Was he expecting a long conversation? 

“You were worried,” She took a step toward him.  

“I was worried,” He agreed, “But you were great. I just keep thinking, because you weren’t prepared, I could have made a better call that didn’t put you in more danger. That’s it.”

Bell put her hand to her forehead, exasperated with herself.

“And then I got pissed off-”

“You didn’t even let me explain!”

Bell sighed and sat on the bed next to him, staring at her shoes.  

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I think I can sleep easy tonight,” Woods sighed, he sounded relieved, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 

He followed her gaze to her feet.

“You’re still wearing those shoes. I thought you would have kicked them off by now.” 

“Me too, if I’m being honest,” Bell stretched her legs out in front of her admiring the way the shoes sparkled, “But I like them. And I’m surprised they’re in such good shape considering everything. Anyway, they’re… uh….”

She trailed off, dropped her legs, and crossed her feet. 

“They’re what?” Woods asked. 

Bell glanced up at him. He was looking at her over his shoulder.

She huffed and tucked a hair behind her ear before responding, “They’re pretty, ok?” 

Then she braced herself for the teasing.

“So, you are actually a girl.”

She playfully shoved his shoulder, “What was your first clue?”

“You did look pretty good in that dress.”

Reflexively, Bell tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I seem to remember you telling me that- in a friendly way. ”

Woods looked away from her and rubbed the back of his head. The clean smell of the hotel shampoo wafted in the air around him. She remembered then that he had showered before joining her and Mason downstairs. That his breath smelled like mint. He had cleaned himself up. 

She had to wonder. 

“About that-” He turned his head to look at her again. Then he sighed as if he were rethinking what to say. A slight grin appeared on his face, “I think I like this outfit better.”

“Oh, you do, do you? Well,” She braced her hands on the edge of the bed, pushing her shoulders down and tilting her head back before continuing, “That’s good because I’m probably stuck in it.”

Bell crossed her legs.

“Stuck in it?”

“Well, yeah. I couldn’t get them on- so obviously, I have no idea how to take them off. Maybe you could help me?”

She was joking.  Once she had seen him put the garters on, it was easy to figure out how to remove them. 

“Oh, yeah?” Woods said as he leaned closer to her, “I guess it’s a good thing we made up, huh?”

Then he kissed her.  

After all that build-up, it took every bit of Bell’s willpower to not just pull him down on the bed on top of her. It seemed like he was trying to do just that as he leaned into her, but that’s not what she wanted to happen. Not yet.

And it wasn’t what she had asked him to do anyway.

Bell let him touch her lips briefly before placing her fingers on his chin and pushing his face away. 

“You said I should ask for help,” She said matter-of-factly.

Woods smirked at her, “I did, didn’t I?”

Leaning back on her hands again, she looked at him expectantly. 

He slipped his fingers between her skin and one of the straps and traced it down to where the clasp met her stocking. 

When he moved to undo it, she stopped him. 

“No.” 

And when he looked at her questioningly, she placed one heeled foot on his shoulder, guiding him down.

“Like before. On your knees.”

______________________________________________________

Sometime later in the night they found themselves laying in bed together, catching their breath.

Woods shifted and pressed his forehead into her chest.

“That was good,” He said.

“Yeah,” Bell agreed.

A contented silence fell over them. Bell could feel herself fading, but she needed to get up, get this lingerie off of her. Finally shower?

“Frank?”

“Mmm?”

“I need to get up.”

He groaned and playfully squeezed her, like he wasn’t planning on letting her go, then rolled off. 

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, she turned back to him. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I really need to shower. I didn’t before-”

“What you don’t like smelling like a battlefield? Smoke, grease, sweat-” He grinned at her as he settled into the pillows. 

She gave him a horrified look and sniffed at a lock of her hair. 

“Oh god,” She scrunched her nose up. She did smell like smoke. And after he had cleaned himself up too. 

“Bell, if those smells bothered me, I’d be in the wrong business.” 

She gave him a tired smile and moved to stand up. Then realized was still wearing the heels from earlier. She wanted to kick them off.

“Wow,” Woods said behind her. 

Bell turned to look at him.

“Your ass is amazing,” He offered by way of explanation. 

“Oh,” She sat back down on the bed, her calves were aching, “It’s the heels.”

He drew himself up and sat next to her on the bed, slipping her shoes off before she had the chance.

“Nah, I think you’ve just got a great ass,” He said, setting the shoes down on the ground, “Now come on, I said I was going to help you with this.”

“You know I don’t actually-”

He put a finger over her lips to stop her. Then he detached the garters from the stockings in turn. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he removed the belt and tossed it on a chair. Then he carefully slipped the stockings off her, tossing them next to the belt.

He looked her over. His fingers traced where the lingerie had made indentations in her skin.

“Shit, did I make it too tight?”

Bell looked down to see what he was referring to and shrugged, “Oh no, that’s just how it is. Binding. Gotta keep everything in.”

Woods frowned at the indentations again.

“They’ll go away,” Bell assured him as she stood up. 

“For the record, I’m good with everything out.” Then he grabbed her hips and turned her around, “Yeah, perfect ass. No torture devices needed for that.”

She looked over her shoulder at him and chuckled, “Can I take a shower now?”

Woods slapped her ass, “Now you can.”

“Hey!” Bell turned and placed her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down on the bed.

“Oh, change your mind? Looking for a round two?”

She sighed, shook her head, and climbed off of him.

Bell walked to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and waited as it heated up. Then she stepped in and let the warm water run over her aching body. She was so tired she felt like she would fall asleep standing up. Picking up the tiny hotel shampoo bottle, she stared at it, willing herself to wash her hair, but she couldn’t. Bell leaned against the cool tile and closed her eyes. 

“Hey,” Woods said from the other side of the shower curtain, “Room in there for one more?”

“Of course, but I thought you showered already.”

He carefully peeled back the curtain and stepped in.

“Some gal got me dirty since then.”

“Some gal?” She chuckled and turned to him.

“You ok?” He held her shoulders and tried to look at her face, “Oh wow, you are tired. Don’t fall asleep in here.” 

She made a non-committal sound in response.

“Guess you still need my help,” Woods chuckled. He took the shampoo bottle from her and pulled her into his chest. Then he started washing her hair.

“This is ok, right?”

“Yeah,” She sighed and wrapped her arms around him. He helped her clean up, and when they were done, he wrapped a robe around her.

“Ok all clean.”

“Great, want to get dirty again?” She asked halfheartedly.

“Don’t tempt me, baby” He turned her around and guided her to the bed, “You need to sleep.”

“Baby?”

“Yeah, what you don’t like it?” 

Bell considered this as she walked to the bed. She tossed her robe over a chair and pulled the covers aside. Then slipped between the sheets and settled in. 

“Maybe I could get used to it,“ Bell covered her mouth, “I mean- I didn’t-”

She started to speak when he got into bed and placed his arms on either side of her head. He looked into her eyes as he stroked her hair.

“Don’t tell me this was a one-time-only kind of thing.”

“Just didn’t want to assume anything.”

“Yeah, I get that. But we gotta do this again,” He rolled over and pulled the covers over himself, settling in bed next to her, “This ok?”

She nodded, “Yeah, I want you to stay.”

She wrapped one arm around him and placed her head on his chest.

“I think-” She paused. Then Bell lifted herself on her hands and looked him in the eye. Her long hair pooled on his chest. 

“I think I might like you, Frank,” She finished. 

__________________________________________________

With tired eyes, he peered ahead through dim lighting. He realized that he was looking up at a pockmarked unfamiliar drop ceiling. Woods closed his eyes again. His mouth felt like a desert. 

Woods realized then that he must have been sleeping but still felt exhausted. Opening his eyes a little wider, he attempted to take in his surroundings, but nothing about the unfamiliar gray room registered with him. His mind was still half asleep, just trying to catch up with his body.  

He could barely- could he move? 

He raised his right hand. Fingers brushed his forehead where his bandana should be. It wasn’t right. The fabric that was usually soft and worn felt rough and tight around his head. 

Was this a hospital?

Where was Mason? 

A wave of dizziness hit him as he turned his head to look around.

Closing his eyes, he let himself drift back to sleep. 

When he woke up again, everything was a little brighter around him. A long white curtain hung next to his bed. Woods could hear the soft beep of machines somewhere around him. 

And the smell. Woods recognized that smell- medicinal and slightly metallic. 

He was definitely in a hospital. But how long had he been here?

“Ugh,” His voice, unused for some time, managed to croak out. 

“Hey, you’re awake.” 

It took him a moment to register that it was Mason’s voice. 

He raised his head, and his body protested the movement. 

His neck felt tight. 

No, that wasn’t it. 

Something pulled on his skin there, limiting his movements. It extended down his shoulder and his upper arm.

As he moved around, a dull headache began settling in the back of his head. 

Mason, who was sitting in a chair by his bed, warned, “Careful, man. Your shoulder is bandaged up.”

That explains the pulling and the stiffness he was feeling on one side. 

He realized that Mason’s voice had sounded strange. Woods turned his head to look at him. 

“Are-” He started, his throat felt raw, his voice sounding rougher than usual, “Are you eating my Jell-O?”

Mason chuckled as he stood up to place the empty plastic container on the tray by Woods’ bed. 

“Can’t let good food go to waste.”

“Dunno if I’d call that good food.”

Mason shrugged. 

“Yeah, well, you know.”

He picked up a cup of water from the tray and handed it to Woods. 

Mason must have decided Woods was all right because he said, “You look like shit. Sound like shit, too.”

Woods chuckled. It was a dry, raspy sound that felt like it was tearing up his throat. 

He took the water and drank some. It was good but not as refreshing as he would have liked. He needed to brush his damn teeth. But later. 

“What the fuck happened?”

Mason sighed and scratched his head.

“That bad, huh?”

“You’re not gonna like it,” He leaned against the bed and gave Woods a sidelong look before continuing, “But Adler saved your ass. Saved both of our asses.”

Then he folded his arms over his chest.

“Fuck.”

Woods let his head fall back on his pillow.

“Flashbang hit us,” Mason paused, “-well, it missed, but close enough to fuck us up. Right while you were disarming that moliyna. Fucking thermite.”

“You’re telling me,” Woods grumbled. Even thinking about the heat and the bright lights made his head ache again. 

“You moved fast, though. Getting me out of the way and yourself. Just in time,” Mason sighed, “Anyway, you weren’t hit by the thermite directly-”

“Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Mason let out another sigh, “Second-degree burns. You gotta stay in the hospital. They want to monitor you. You hit your head, too.”

“You ok?” He asked Mason.

“Nothing too bad.”

“Well, can’t get any uglier,” He said with a smirk. 

Both he and Mason laughed at that. 

Woods scanned the room.

Shouldn’t Bell be here? 

The way she looked at them before she left. 

It was like she was sending them off to war. 

It’s not like he expected her to be weeping by his bedside or anything, but it was a surprise. 

And if she wasn’t here, he felt something was wrong. 

Woods looked back to Mason, who was giving him a sad look. His friend dropped his head. He already knew the question on Woods’ mind without him asking.

Sometimes it was like they could read each other’s thoughts; they had worked together for so long. 

“Is she-” 

Mason turned his gaze to the window.

“Is she ok?”

“She’s-” Mason hesitated, rethinking his words, “Adler locked her up in the Safehouse-“

Woods’ eyes widened in alarm. 

Adler? Goddamnit, if I hadn’t been injured she’d be- 

We left her alone, and now-

He shifted to sit up despite the pain.

“Locked her up?!“

“Use the remote, old man. You’re gonna hurt yourself again.” 

Mason grabbed Woods’ hand, placing the bed remote firmly in his palm. Woods begrudgingly used it. Once he raised the bed, Mason continued. 

“That numbers station recording we found-” Mason paused, “it was her voice on the tape. Bell even confirmed it.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the original- that’s not your-”

Mason shook his head, “Yeah, I know. It’s not. But Perseus had been trying to get his hands on Dragovich’s work, right? And the KGB denied his requests. So maybe, with someone like Bell on his team-”

“She could reverse engineer it?”

Bell was practically a genius at decryption. How he understood it, she had managed to unravel codes in half the time it took a team of CIA specialists. And it sounded like she had been doing it since she was a kid, so it made sense. 

From what he did know, numbers stations were just coded messages. You usually needed the right book, newspaper, or something to decode them. 

It sounded challenging, almost impossible. But for Bell, it might not be.

But why? 

Activate the sleeper agents in the US? 

Set off Nova 6 in American cities while they were nuking Europe?

Near global devastation. 

Mason shrugged.

“Can’t be sure. She doesn’t remember. At least not yet.” 

“Have you seen her?”

Mason shook his head.

“They just released me yesterday. ‘Em’s been all over me. She’s not used to seeing me so soon after a mission, you know?” Mason grinned at his friend. 

Then his face fell. He looked away again.

“I tried calling her, but she wouldn’t come to the phone,” He said softly. 

“She’s probably blaming herself.”

“Probably. You know,” He kicked the floor with the toe of his booth as he said this, “Whatever she was doing back then, I still think she’s different. We all have regrets. But-”

Woods interrupted him, “Sometimes I think you want her to be OK because it means you’ll be OK. It’s like you’re worried that there’s some part of you that’s going to fuck up or something.”

Mason’s mouth became a line. He swung his head around to stare out the window. 

What he said was true, and Mason knew it. It’s not like he was going to admit it. At the end of the day this was Mason’s vendetta. Fix things for Bell, and maybe he’d fix something about himself. 

“I did fuck up-,” Mason started, but his voice caught in his throat. 

Woods knew where this was going. 

How many times had they been over it? 

By all rights, Woods and that asshole, Kravchenko, should have been nothing more than bloody parts wallpapering that cave. Even he wasn’t sure how they both made it. 

Is that really Mason’s biggest fucking regret?

He can’t judge though. They never really talk about Cuba. Not in any kind of deep way. Just bitching about missing out on Castro. 

“Like you said, we all have regrets.”

Woods held out his good hand, and Mason slapped it.

“Now go get me some more Jell-O.”

Mason laughed and stepped out of the room.

______________________________________________________

Woods raised his bed. It was dark in his room, but he couldn’t sleep. His roommate on the other side of the curtain was using a respirator to breathe. The sound was meditative. Better than silence. Better than whatever crap was on tv in the middle of the night. 

He looked to the window. The night nurse had come through and closed the shades hours ago. But he could see the night sky through a tiny gap she missed. 

He couldn’t sleep. 

His mind wanted to work over his conversation with Mason and the past few days' events. 

As much as it was plaguing him, he could imagine how Bell felt right now. 

The kind of mental dressing-down she was giving herself for something she had done in her past that she couldn’t even remember. 

But really, what the fuck had she been doing? 

They always knew her hands weren’t clean. 

Hell, his and Mason’s sure weren’t either. 

But at least with everything they were doing, they were trying to help people, right?

Mason had him thinking about Cuba again. When they thought they had done it- killed Castro. But then that woman, the one who had been with the fake Castro, she had been completely unarmed. 

They wouldn’t have hurt her. But then she picked up a gun.

She was wearing a goddamn nightgown for fucks sake. 

He used her as a human sheild. 

And she still picked up that gun. 

Castro’s supporters are fanatical in their devotion to him. 

Isn’t that what Mason had said? 

But he never got her out of his head or the countless other faces of people who died for a cause they didn’t have to die for. 

Was it the same with Bell? 

Had she been indoctrinated? 

She thought Americans were responsible for killing her family, but who knew what the truth really was? 

Would that have been enough for her to feel justified in taking the lives of millions like that?

He realized that thought was probably killing her as well.  

It was that kind of realization that had helped him to warm up to her. She was so goddamn hard on herself he couldn’t not be kind to her. 

Feel a little bad. 

But they both knew that finding out more about her past would make it harder for him to empathize. 

Wasn’t she always waiting for the other shoe to drop?

“You know, one of these days, you’re going to hear something you don’t like, and then you’re going to realize that this is all that I’m good for.”

Was she right?

__________________________________________________

The clock radio blared. Woods groaned.

Right. Back at the apartment. 

They had discharged him last night. The nurses were probably ready to strike if they didn’t. 

Yeah, he wasn’t always the best patient. The night nurse was pretty pissed when she caught him smoking out the window in his room. He chuckled to himself. 

Woods sat up and swung his legs off the bed. Cracking his window, he lit a cigarette. 

He glanced at his nightstand, which was cluttered with all the crap he’d need to take care of his wound himself.

It was not pretty, but it looked worse than it was. At least, that’s what the doctor told him. He scratched his beard and let out a loud yawn before yanking on shorts and stepping out into the apartment. 

To his surprise, Mason was up and making coffee.

He had insisted on staying the night, and after being back home for several days, Em felt comfortable letting him.

Em had even suggested Woods sleep at their apartment, but there wasn’t enough room.

And it’s not like he could help with David, so what would be the point? 

He’d just be in the way. 

“Do you ever sleep in?” Mason asked, handing him a mug.

Woods took it and ran his fingers through his hair. He sat down on a stool and yawned again before taking a drink. 

Mason leaned against the counter and eyed Woods’ shoulder over his own mug.

“How ya feeling?”

“Like shit, but that’s nothing new.”

“Yeah, you look it too.”

Woods chuckled.

“What are you doing up so early, sunshine? Worried about me?”

“You know it,” Mason chuckled. He opened the fridge and pulled out some eggs and bacon.

“You go grocery shopping?”

“‘Em did.”

“Surprised she’s not over here already making sure we’re fed.”

“Yeah, she’ll probably be over later. I think she misses the job sometimes.”

“It’s hard to stay away.”

“Yeah, they’ll have to force you to retire.”

Woods spotted the day’s newspaper sitting on the counter and picked it up. He sipped his coffee as he read. 

Mason slipped a plate just under Woods’ paper. He had arranged the bacon and eggs into a smiling face.

“Really?”

“Ah, come on, you’re injured.”

He recalled how delighted Bell had been when Mason made this for her. 

Mason must have been thinking along the same lines because he said, “I’m gonna call Hudson and see if she can come home.” 

Home. 

To Mason, this was Bell’s home. But Woods didn’t think she felt the same way. 

If you asked her, she had no home. Her last one burned down in a fire several decades ago.

He looked around the apartment.

Was this a home? 

Adler had called it playing house. And he wasn’t wrong. As much as they could try to make it comfortable, she was still being guarded. Just because the guards were them and not some power-hungry pieces of shit didn’t make this any less of a prison, right? 

That’s probably how she saw it. 

And maybe it would be better if they changed their mindset to see it that way too.

He folded his paper and was about to set it down on the counter when he stopped. 

The crossword section was in his hand. He must have pulled it out automatically. How many mornings had he done that without realizing it had become part of his routine? 

Woods looked over at the spot by the coffee table where she usually sat. The pillow she had pulled from the couch was still on the floor. It was almost as if he could see her kneeling there, hovering over a puzzle in deep concentration. Her coffee growing colder by the minute. And only moving when the hair in her face got too annoying to ignore. 

“Hey, foods getting cold.”

Woods glanced at Mason and then down at his food. Mason didn’t ask. He had probably figured out something of what Woods was thinking anyway.

__________________________________________________

When they finished eating, Mason grabbed the phone while Woods went to the sink to wash the dishes.

“I can do that when I’m done,” Mason said, cradling the phone with his shoulder while he dialed. 

Woods shook his head. It was slow work, but he managed.

His ears perked up when Mason started talking. He wondered if Mason was dialing the Safehouse or that stupid brick of a phone Hudson loved to carry around. That thing probably fried your brains if you used it too long. But it made Hudson feel important to use it. 

“Hudson?”

“So, can we come by to pick her up today?”

There was a long silence.

“I’m not gonna leave until he’s healed.”

More silence.

“What the hell do you-”

“What do you mean?”

The silence went on for so long Woods thought that maybe the conversation had ended. 

And then Mason said, “Oh.”

Then he heard the sound of the receiver being set down. And Mason didn’t say anything.

He grabbed a dishcloth, picked up a plate, wiped it down, and set it into the cabinet. Then another. And another.

And then, finally, he said, “Hudson didn’t think it was a good idea for her to come back while you’re injured.”

“What? I’m fine.”

Mason wiped down a glass, holding on to it for a little too long, before shaking himself out of whatever thought had consumed him. 

“Even if,” Mason took a breath, “Even if you weren’t injured, it wouldn’t be happening.”

Woods looked up, alarmed, “What? Why? Is she ok?”

“She’s fine. She refused.”

“Refused?”

“She doesn’t want to come back here.”

Woods placed his good arm behind his head and stared at the ceiling. It was night, a long day of doing a whole lot of nothing, at Mason’s insistence. 

Mason, himself, was still kind of in a state of shock. 

That Bell wouldn’t want their help anymore. 

That she preferred her current state of solitary confinement to living with them. 

Maybe what she preferred was not to pretend. 

Mason wanted to do right by her. They were part of an exclusive club of people who’ve had their minds fucked by someone they once called a friend.

But isn’t that where the similarities ended? 

It would be hard to know for sure until they knew everything, and that all depended on her and those sessions.

Mason had called Hudson back. He wanted to speak with her. Hear it from her, and maybe he’d believe it. But Hudson said she wasn’t in the state of mind to talk. 

They had her too fucking drugged up. 

It might even be a part of the side effects of the drugs that were causing her to withdraw. 

How much time did she have left before she was consumed by them? 

A psychotic break. That was always the risk with LSD. 

He wondered if she cared or if she was hoping to lose herself altogether. 

__________________________________________________

“What is this?” Nikitin asked. 

Bell looked at him through the reflection in the mirror as she tied her hair back into a low bun. He was holding up an old piece of blood-stained cloth. 

“First American you killed? I didn’t think you kept trophies.” 

He lit a cigarette and peered at her curiously. 

She finished her hair and sat down next to him, taking the small cloth flag from him. 

“No,” She said, turning it over in her hands, “First one who tried to kill me.”

Then she stuffed it into her pocket. 

She plucked the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag.

“Hey, now.”

Bell grinned at him. He shook his head at her and took out a fresh cigarette, and lit it. 

“So back to Vietnam for you. Ready for a little revenge?”

She should have known she wouldn’t be done with the war. After her injury and recovery, Perseus rewarded her by using his connections to send her to Moscow, but now she was on her way back. It wouldn’t be a long trip, in and out, if everything went to plan. 

Not that it ever really does. Then back here, ready for the next mission. 

“Cambodia. Weren’t you listening? And always.” 

“I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on some of those capitalist fuckers.”

It was a sentiment shared by their entire team. 

As their CO reviewed the mission details in the dimly lit briefing room, a spark of energy radiated through the place. They had all seen the photos by now. Read the reports. The disgusting and inhuman actions taken by American soldiers and on who- women and children. The elderly. Unarmed civilians.

And all for what? Because the Americans feared communism more than anything. Why not let these people be free if that’s what they wished for? 

What should have been a civil war was becoming something more—the American moral battle against socialism. 

Did they even care who they bombed? Who they killed?

Recent events seemed to suggest otherwise. 

And, of course, the reports had information that some of the Americans had tried to stop it. A helicopter crew herded civilians to safety. But they were a small team. 

Hadn’t she seen firsthand what they could do? 

The cruelty they could inflict? 

Fuck them. 

“Hey,” Nikitin said, pulling her from her thoughts.

She looked at him.

“Let’s go out. Get a drink.”

She nodded.

__________________________________________________

They reached the clearing. A warm wind blew red dust from the airfield in their direction. 

Wearing a fucking mask in this weather was a nightmare. 

The sooner they got this done sooner she could rip the stupid thing off. 

She scanned the area, knowing their teammates were lying in wait, concealed around the base, just waiting for their signal. It was up to her and Nikitin now. 

And they needed to move quickly, or they’d have reinforcements up their asses in no time. Every second counted here. 

“We’re headed there,” Nikitin said in a low voice. He pointed towards a concrete building with a short control tower on top.

“Take out comms; maybe we’ll find something interesting if we have time.”

She nodded at a nearby hanger.

“We can go through there. Should provide some concealment.”

They moved forward. The hanger door hung ajar when they reached it. 

Bell peered around it. A mechanic was standing nearby with his back to the door. He was in the process of putting his tools away for the day. 

The mechanic seemed to be muttering to himself about disorganization. He was displeased with his teammates' lack of attention to proper tool storage. He bent down to access the bottom drawer of his tool cart. 

Bell exhaled softly and stepped forward. She placed two fingers on the doorknob, gently pushing it open just enough so she could move inside. Holding her breath, she crept forward. The creak of the soles of her boots seemed so loud to her in the quiet hanger. She was sure he would hear her and turn. But he didn’t. The business of moving tools around was louder enough to cover any sound she made, and he seemed very focused on getting things right. 

She raised the butt of her gun over his head.  

A lug nut slipped out of his hand and rolled to her feet. The mechanic turned just in time for her to bring the gun down on the side of his head. 

There was a loud metallic clatter as his body hit the tool chest and jostled everything in the open drawer. 

Fuck, that was stupid.

She chastised herself. Luckily no one else was around, and the hanger was mostly dark. Anyone walking by couldn't see them, even if they had heard the sound. 

Nikitin dragged the body out as she moved towards the entrance taking cover behind a few stacked palettes of supplies.

The Bell AH-1 Cobras were parked just ahead but in the center of the base. No one on their team could get close to them without being spotted. 

A guard was weaving in between the helicopters while he smoked a cigarette. 

“It’s going to be fun to deprive them of their shiny new toys,” Nikitin hissed in her ear as he joined her.

Their target was just to the left. A single guard stood in front of the nearest door, illuminated by a small uncovered security bulb overhead. 

“See if you can take that guard. I’ll check if there’s a way around.”

Bell nodded, and Nikitin left. 

A parked Jeep provided cover as she moved forward. 

The guard shifted his feet, but other than that, he remained pretty still. 

There was nothing closer to him that she could use for cover. It would be difficult to approach without alerting the guard, and he didn’t seem to be moving anytime soon. 

Bell watched, feeling the minutes tick away when finally he ducked his head down as he fished through his pockets for something. She took the chance and drew her silenced pistol taking out the bulb over his head. He seemed to jolt at the sound of the suppressed shot but was almost immediately distracted by the shattered glass sprinkling onto his cap and shoulders. He looked up at the broken bulb in confusion. 

And that’s when she took her chance to swoop in quietly. 

She swiftly wedged her knife under his ribcage and covered his mouth with her hand. His cap fell off and rolled on the ground. With a gasp, he began to collapse; she slid her knife across his neck. Then she helped settle his body into a nearby metal folding chair, propping his gun next to him. 

Finally, she picked his cap up and placed it back on the dead guard’s head. 

Bell wiped her knife and sheathed it. She kicked dirt over the broken glass by the door before reaching her hand out to open it. 

A thin beam of light extended across the ground as she carefully cracked the door. 

She listened, and hearing nothing but the hum of electrical equipment, she opened the door wider and stepped one boot inside. As she moved her body in, she glanced around the door. Before she could process what she saw, someone pulled the door wide open. Then in an instant slammed it against her body, holding it there, wedging her against the door frame. With the wind knocked out of her and the edge of the door pressed against her chest, she couldn’t get a breath in. A soldier was pressing his body weight against the door.  She attempted to grab hold of it, and resist the force enough to make room to slip through. 

The soldier reached for the gun on his belt. He was still leaning against the door. 

Suddenly she stopped resisting, and the door and the soldier came forward onto her. The initial impact hurt, but it also set the soldier off balance enough that she was able to get through. 

And he had dropped his gun. 

She reached for her knife, but he kicked her in the chest, sending her to the ground. 

Bell kicked out, hitting his knee, knocking him down. He fell next to her. Bell reached for her knife, but he grabbed her wrist and managed to get on top of her. They wrestled control of the knife when the soldier let out a sound like a balloon releasing air. His grip on her wrist loosened, and she could now thrust her blade upwards just at the top of his throat. Before the body could drop, a pair of gloved hands grabbed it by the shoulders and tossed it aside. 

Nikitin stood over her and offered his hand. 

“You ok?”

She took his hand and stood up. 

“Yeah,” Her voice felt tight, and her chest ached, but it would pass.

They moved up a set of metal stairs, boots clicking on each step. 

Another door, and beyond that, a hallway. In the middle of the hall, embedded in the concrete,  was a metal ladder that led up a narrow tunnel. They approached the ladder and looked up. This was likely the entrance to the control room. 

Nikitin led the climb, moving slowly, and stopping just before the top. He peeked his head just over the edge before ducking down into the tunnel to signal her.

He climbed up, keeping low. Bell watched his feet disappear before she made her way up. 

Nikitin crouched behind a console. There were three operators in the room. Nikitin moved on the two in front, and she headed towards the back. 

Swiftly taking out her operator, she turned back to the center of the room.

“Good work,” Nikitin said.

She radioed the team as Nikitin took out communications for the base. 

Bell watched through the windows. The team swept through the base, taking out the lights as they moved. Soon the base was nearly in darkness. And they could just hear the chaotic sounds of confusion as the soldiers below scrambled to find out why the generators had gone out. 

But it was too late. 

“We should get out there.” 

They made their way down the ladder and headed towards the front of the building. A shuffling sound from the stairs ahead of them drew their attention. 

Someone tossed a grenade toward them. 

Nikitin grabbed it and lob it back at them, while Bell kicked in the door to a nearby office. 

Nikitin ducked into the office behind her, and they listened for the explosion. 

After a moment of silence, they were fired upon. 

Someone was still alive. Nikitin hovered by the door, returning fire. The tinny sound of shells hitting the tile floor.

Bell looked up. There was a large map on the wall across from the door with several locations marked on it. The map was primarily of Asia. One of the circled locations was in the middle of the Aral Sea. Another just north of where they were in Khammouane, Laos. 

She took a photo of the map. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Nikitin shouted at her as he returned to cover to reload. 

“Finding something interesting,” She said, echoing his words from earlier.  

He grabbed a grenade from his belt and tossed it down the hall. 

And the gunfire stopped. 

She scanned the files and folders on the desk below the map. 

What were they planning?

One folder, in particular, stood out to her. It had German writing on it. 

“Come on. We need to go. We don’t have time.”

Hastily she grabbed the folder and tucked it into her jacket as they left the building. 

They regrouped with the detonation team.

The charges were set. The other teams had made it back into the forest and were on their way to their exfil locations.

That’s where they should have been. 

And just as they went to move a giant spotlight switched on, beaming light almost at their feet. A truck with a mounted light and turret was rolling through the base. 

Looking for them.

They split up. Bell and Nikitin braced their backs against cement barricades, keeping their bodies low to avoid being spotted. After a few breathless moments, the huge spotlight trained over their hiding area, and someone opened fire. 

One of the detonation team had accidentally broken cover and had been spotted. He lay on the ground, blood seeping through his mask. 

“We’re fucking pinned down.”

What was left of the base was about to converge on them. 

“You can fly, right?!” She shouted over the sound of gunfire.

Nikitin stared at her. He looked at the nearby helicopter. Then back at the surviving member of the detonation team. 

“We’re going to miss our exfil. We have to do something!”

“That’s fucking crazy!” 

Quickly the three of them made their way to the helicopter. Bell held up the rear, returning fire, as the charges on their helicopter were disarmed.

She managed to hit the spotlight, shrouding the base in near darkness again. 

The helicopter engine started up, and she ran to it. 

Grabbing a seat and putting on a headset, she heard Nikitin muttering about “fucking insane.”

And then he said loud and clear, “Moscow is going to be happy with this new toy.”

One-by-one, the helicopters still on the ground exploded.

Bell watched them burn for a moment before looking up at the sky.

__________________________________________________

Woods closed the folder and set it down on his lap. He rubbed his chin as he thought about what he had just read. 

So that’s what she thought of them. 

Or had thought of them.

That other her.

So was there more to her not wanting to see him and Mason?

She’s started to remember these things, these feelings she once had, and now she couldn’t stand the sight of them. Is that it?

And after reading all that, could he feel comfortable around her, knowing what she did? 

Would he recognize some of the names if he looked into who she and her team killed?

It was starting to feel like it was asking too much. 

Woods had known so many guys who gave up their lives doing what they thought was right. Too many. Good guys. 

He had been stuck in a fucking shit hole prison, and after four years, he managed to crawl out of it. 

One of only two MACV-SOG POWs to ever make it out, and what did he get for it?

It’s not like he had been expecting a parade or anything, but what he actually got?

A fucking slap in the face.

Treated like he was the enemy. 

Like he was someone to watch out for and worry about. Like he was the bad guy. 

And he got pulled into his share of fights, mostly by stupid rich kids who never served in their lives. Just itching to start shit. 

It hurt. But he could dismiss them all. They didn’t fucking know the first thing about it. 

But to read that she might have thought the same thing about him as those people did? 

Didn’t she think that guys like him might have been disgusted by some of the things they’d heard too?

But she was just going to lump him in with that trash?

Just like everyone else.

Woods leaned on the window frame and looked at the city before him. 

He needed to talk to Mason. See what he thought about all this. Woods wondered if Mason would still hold on to hope for Bell after this. 

Could he still excuse it and say she’s atoning for her sins now? 

But still, even if he did agree, since day one, Woods had never been entirely on board with it. He liked Bell, but the person she was before was so different. 

And who knows who she would become once her memory came back?

Woods sighed.

Maybe it was time for his part in this to be done.

There was no way.

 She nearly bolted upright in bed. Bright loght streamed in through the open door behind him, beaming through the windows in the room just beyond. The backlighting made it hard for her to focus on his face. 

“Whoa, you ok?” 

He was holding out his hands as if ready to who knows what- steady her?

“Maybe you don’t need coffee,” He chuckled and reached for the mug on her nightstand as if he were going to take it away.

“W-” Bell shook her head and corrected herself, “Frank?” 

“Better be, I’m wearing his underwear.”

She could just make out a smirk on his face.

She looked around. She was in her room, in the apartment she had shared with Woods and Mason. 

 Frank and Alex.

 No gray concrete block walls. And real bed instead of a cold uncomfortable cot. 

“You’re still feeling a bit out of it, huh?” 

Woods reached up and pushed a hair out of her face, his hand lingered on her forehead. 

 Checking for fever maybe? But why?

 “I don’t,” She shook her head, “How did I get here?”

“You were kind of out of it.”

Not wanting to look at Woods she looked down at her hands and balled the bedcovers up in her fists.

“I wouldn’t take your calls,” She said shaking her head, “I wouldn’t see you.”

“Couldn’t just sit back and watch you self-destruct.”

“Frank, I-”

He patted her hand. 

“Look, you should just take it easy, ok? I’ll make you something to eat,” He paused, reconsidering,  “Or… I’ll make Al cook you up something. Yeah.” 

He stood up and left the room pulling the door closed behind him. 

Bell watched him go and sighed. 

 “You think I’m pathetic, don’t you?”

The marionette’s little laugh rang through the room before she materialized next to Bell. As soon as she appeared the laugh ended with a sickening gurgle. Bell had to suspect she was choking on blood again. A surprising feat for someone with a solid wood respiratory system. 

“No, not really. You could just stand to dream a little bigger.”

The marionette coughed. Blood dotted the blanket which began to steam as the air became cold. The bright light dimmed into darkness. And the blanket became white snow. They were outside. 

Bell shivered.

Just ahead of them a lump of snow rose and fell steadily. Small puffs of steam appeared in the air in time with the movement. 

Bell reached out to brush a layer of snow away. She uncovered a patch of gray woolen material. 

The arm of a coat. Bell tugged at it and the snow shifted to reveal a tiny figure.

“Save her,” The marionette urged. Her glass eyes were shining.

“I can’t.”

The ground began to rumble and small figure seemed to sink back into the snow.

“Save her!” The marionette shouted. She began coughing again.

Bell leaned forward reaching for the tiny arm, but the moment she touched it it was gone. Swallowed by the snow.

She began to dig, sending white flecks into the air, but the snow pile began to swell.

Standing, Bell stared at the growing mass. It seemed almost alive.

The marionette’s strings were pulled by the unseen hands that manipulated her, dragging her out of the way as well. She fell into her place, suspended in the air next to Bell. 

“Keep going,” The marionette urged. 

“She’s gone!” Bell insisted.

“She doesn’t have to be.”

Bell didn’t move.

“You don’t have to be Bell in here,” The marionette stared gravely at the ever growing snow. A strong wind picked up and the puppet began to rattle on her strings. But her face was resolute as she said, “Save her. Stay here with us. Rewrite your story.”

“It won’t change anything.”

“You think so?” 

A pair of wooden hands landed on her shoulders.

“You’re already losing your mind anyway. Why not go out on your own terms?”

And then she shoved Bell into the snow. 

The impact as she hit the snow was barely noticeable. A small puff and a rush of ice on her skin. And below that was nothing. 

So she fell. 

She had a point. If she was going to eventually lose herself wouldn’t she want to build a world where she could be anyone and anything? Where her sister could live and grow up? 

They could be together. She wouldn’t have to be a monster. 

No it was too easy.

There was someone out there with itchy trigger fingers who had already shown he was willing to nuke a continent to get what he wanted. And she had been a part of that. 

She needed to carry on, push as hard as she could to ensure that he was stopped before anyone else got hurt. Or died.

“No,” She whispered.  

Saving the world was worth losing her mind.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bell shook herself awake. Adjusting her eyes, she realized she was facing a gray cement block wall. A thrill of terror hit her gut as it took her a moment to realize she wasn’t falling into it.

Coming out of her dreams and adjusting back into reality was becoming more and more surreal by the day. The dreams themselves were more vivid and at the same time reality began to slip into gray. 

Just part of the drug trip.

Side-effects. 

Reaching her hand out, she touched the painted-over pockmarked concrete. The cracked callouses on her palm caught on some of the rougher texture, and she pulled her hand back to examine them. 

Reality always felt like reality. There was pain yes, but also there was no mundanity in her technicolor dreams. And it was that that always assured her realize she was no longer in a dream. Dry and cracking hands with thick and sickly yellowed flesh covering her upper palm? That didn’t exist in her dreams. 

“I don’t know why you don’t just stay there,” The marionette said. Bell knew she only existed in her mind, but she still felt her presence during her waking hours. She hovered in the dark corner of the room always just out of sight. But refusing to be left in her dreams.

 She sat up and cracked her back. Another night of discomfort on the cot made the padded gurney in the lab feel like a damned feathertop. 

Bell placed her bare feet on the cold floor and looked up at Adler, sitting on the other cot watching her. 

“What are you watching me sleep, now?” 

Adler said nothing, only smoked his cigarette and stared.

“At least give me one of those.” 

He nodded to the pack sitting on the table just across from her. Bell was sure it hadn’t been there a moment ago, but she wasn’t interested in thinking about it. 

Instead, she picked it up and shook it. Dipping two fingers into the pack, she pulled out one of the cigarettes. 

Lighting with a lighter that hadn’t been there until she thought of it, she took a long drag. 

It made her cough.

Her throat was dry.

“Did you at least bring me a coffee?” She asked him, her voice hoarse. 

Adler didn’t answer, only stared.

The door rattled. Someone was knocking.

She kicked Adler and the apparition dissolved in a puff of cigarette smoke. 

It was easier to talk to real people without an audience. Though he would likely just reappear again. They always did what they wanted to do, nevermind helping her out for her own sanity.

“If you’re going to live in my mind, at least bring me fucking coffee.”

She flicked the imaginary cigarette across the room. 

“Bell, are you all right in there?”

Park.

Bell sighed and looked to the door. It was covered in dried blood where someone had slammed their hands against it until they bled.

Begging for something. 

She absently picked at the tough skin on her hands.

The echo of herself screaming for Adler reverberated in her mind. 

It had been her, of course. It was her blood decorating the door. 

Screaming for Adler to tell her anything, anything about Woods and Mason. That’s all she had wanted. 

They had left her there for days without a word. Unlocking the door to allow her access to the bathroom and shower, of course. And bringing her food. 

They weren’t monsters, after all. 

She was the only monster here. 

“Bell?” Park’s voice called again, more urgently this time. 

“Yeah?” Bell sat back down on her cot. Adler was back, sitting across from her, smoking his cigarette. 

No fucking sense of privacy. Bastard.

The door creaked open, and Park walked through, holding a food tray in her hands.

She set the tray down on the cot, then grabbed a chair and dragged it near to the cot across from Bell.

 Close, but not too close. Never too close.  

 Bell looked at the tray of food. Some toast, fruit, cheese, and coffee. 

Nothing particularly exciting. 

Whatever they could make in that kitchenette. 

No one was spending time or money on making sure she was fed. 

Picking up the steaming mug she hoped to herself that Park hadn’t made the coffee.

Park was shit at making coffee. 

She took a sip. It tasted terrible, but she drank it anyway. Drinking it down in a single gulp, allowing the burning hot liquid to coat her throat. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. 

It was good to feel something. 

Park was staring at her. 

Bell raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you have more important things to do?”

“Mason called for you again.”

“What, are you a secretary now? You need to get better at making coffee if that’s the case.”

Park sighed.

“You’re slipping.”

Bell frowned. Of course she was. She knew that. Adler knew it. The girl knew it, and the fucking thing in the corner knew it. 

“So you better hurry up and pump info out of me while you’ve got the time,” Bell said with a shrug. As if she didn’t care. 

Bell picked up her toast and chewed on the corner. 

Park swallowed. She thought Park had gotten over feeling uneasy around her. But it looks like not. 

But of course, Park didn’t know how many times Bell had broken out of this room. 

How many opportunities had she had to kill them all? 

Park. Hudson. Adler. 

Of course, that was if she was actually breaking out. Supposing it wasn’t just in her head.

Bell glanced at the thing in the corner. As usual it had jumped out of the way before she could catch a glimpse of it. 

But she could hear it chuckling.

Bell sighed and tossed her half-eaten toast back on the tray.

“You really think you’re doing something here, don’t you? This remorseful shit?” Bell scoffed, “At least Adler has the sense not to feel ashamed for what he did. Don’t fucking insult me. Stop pretending you’d do it differently if you had the chance.”

Park tossed her head back, shaking the hair out of her face.

“You saved my life.”

“Oh right you owe me,” Bell threw Park’s words back her voice coated with disgust, “Yeah, well, maybe if I had the chance to do it again, I wouldn’t. Save Lazar instead. Or neither of you.” 

The memory of Lazar reaching out to her. The tips of his gloves just brushing against hers. And then she was ripped away. Leaving him to die alone on that fucking rooftop. 

It still hurt. Even when she found out he was part of their little conspiracy. There was a deep ache in her chest when she thought about it. 

Besides he was dead, so he got a pass. 

“I think you would.”

“You were supposed to be covering me,” The feelings of regret were bubbling up inside her. Even if she had just been a colleague of theirs, Park hadn’t held up her end. She said she would provide cover and she fucking failed. Bell had put down her weapon to put on the harness. She trusted Park to watch out. And she fucking chose Park over Lazar. 

“If you had done your fucking job-”

“I replay that moment in my mind every day,” Park interrupted. Her tone was dark.

Bell stared her down. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you think. You have a guilty conscience, and you’re here why? You think this-” She indicated the tray and Park sitting in the room- “atones for that?” 

Bell flipped her hand under the tray throwing it at the opposing wall. Adler ducked.

The thing in the corner laughed.

Park was unmoved. 

When Bell looked down again she saw the tray was sitting next to her unharmed. 

“You think whispering through my door in the middle of the night that Woods and Mason are in the hospital makes any fucking difference to me? Fuck you. At least have the decency not to be ashamed of what you did.” 

She hadn’t intended to lose her temper with Park. But the anger felt incredible. It was empowering to have it coursing through her. To lay into someone. Anyone. And Park goddam deserved it. And for once Bell wasn’t turning it on herself. 

“Should have killed them all,” The thing in the corner hissed. 

“Not Mason and Woods,” Bell spat back.

It laughed.

“Who are you talking to?” Park asked, snapping Bell from her spiraling thoughts.

“Don’t worry about it.”

But Park looked distinctly worried. 

“You’re right,” Park said. 

“What?”

“What you said a moment ago. If I had a chance to do it over again, I would do it. Exactly the same,” Her voice was firm. She meant it.

“Finally, some fucking honesty.”

Park pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Bell. And for a second, she considered shaking her head. Being stubborn. 

But the addiction nagged at her. And it quieted them.

She took one, and Park stood up to light it for her. Then she sat back down and lit her own cigarette.

She took a long drag before speaking again. 

“Mason called for you.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“Bell-”

“Let him come visit, see what a head case I’ve become. See how dangerous I am.”

She knew why Park wanted Mason here. He could talk to her. He went through something similar. Seeing and talking to people who weren’t there. 

And. What did they call it in his file?

Disassociating? 

He could talk her down, maybe. Give her advice.

Maybe even try to convince her to go back with him. 

But she needed to stay here, contained. Somewhat. Hadn’t she already hurt them enough?

Frank and Alex.

She had sent the people she thought she cared about most on a doomed mission that nearly got them killed. Who does that?

Even if she wasn’t conscious of it she still felt the fear that maybe deep down a part of her still wanted them dead. And set them up. 

Bell would rather go crazy in this gray room than risk that. 

And Hudson and Adler seemed to agree anyway. At least they saw her for who she was. 

Park opened her mouth to say something else, but Bell cut her off.

“Park, just take what you need from me. And let it go.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bell found herself in an unfamiliar small bedroom. The room was dim, lit by sunlight diffused through soft curtains. Across from her was another soft-looking bed. The room was small enough that she could reach an arm over to touch the edge of the other mattress.

Someone had covered her with an old quilt. She pushed it away and swung her legs over to get out of bed. 

“виктория!” A woman’s voice rang down the hall just outside her door.

Bell looked to the doorway, which was covered with another quilt to keep in the heat. She placed her socked feet on the floor and stood on unsteady legs.

Looking down, she realized she was wearing some kind of shift nightdress. Lifting the bottom edge of the garment she examined the hem. Someone had sewn this for her. She dropped the hem and looked towards the door again. Pushing the quilt aside she stepped into the hallway. 

The scent of eggs and sausage frying in fat in some nearby kitchen wafted down the hall. 

He stomach growled and it was then she realized she was so hungry that she wanted to swallow that scent in large gulps. 

Behind her she heard thudding footsteps which caused some of the floorboards to creak. A girl in a matching nightgown ran past her.

“виктория?” Bell asked the girl who stopped mid-run, turned, and wrapped her arms around Bell’s waist. 

The girl stepped back and grabbed Bell’s hand, pulling her further into the hallway. 

They came to the kitchen. A woman was standing by the sink washing dishes.

Steaming plates of food awaited them at the table. 

But this was a shared kitchen. She moved to turn back, realizing that she should be dressed before sitting at the table. But when she looked down again, her nightgown had been replaced by a dark gray wool dress—her socks with opaque tights. 

The other girl, her sister, had taken her seat at the table and looked at her expectantly. Her clothes had also changed. 

Bell reached for the back of her chair, grasping the polish wood. But when she pulled it out she instead found a gray wool coat in her hand instead. 

Now, she found herself standing by the stairwell. The girl was beside her, dressed to go out. 

It didn’t look that cold out, but their mother had insisted they wear their hats and coats. 

Bell shrugged her coat on with a sigh. Her mother smiled inuldgently at her.

Then her face fell and her head snapped back to the direction of the kitchen as if she heard something. Her sister had a fearful look on her face and buried her head in Bell’s coat, wrapping her arms around her.

Her mother turned back to the girls stretching her arms out in front of her. Bell’s first thought was that she was going to hug her. She stepped in. And was surprised when her mother’s hands hit her hard in the chest, and she and her sister were falling through the doorway backwards.

They were going to fall down the stairs!

Bell tried to look to her mother, ask her why she would do this, but she only saw the night sky and falling glass. 

Her sister slipped out of her hands. 

Bell hit the ground; the wind knocked out of her. 

Warm wet droplets pattered on her skin. Above her the marionette hung on twisted strings.

“Stay with me,” She pleaded, “Save her.”

The glass eyes of the marionette stared at her from behind a curtain of limp dark hair. Cradled in one arm was a bundle wrapped in dark gray cloth—a coat. A red stain blossomed across the gray.

Bell raised herself up on her hands, fighting against the pain in her body. Against the sharp sting of the fresh lacerations on her back. Hot blood pooled on the ground around her.

But she ignored it. It was too much blood for one person to lose. But here she could ignore it. 

Bell stood up and reached a hand out her fingertips touching the cold dead fingers of the marionette. 

But quickly, violently the puppet was yanked away disappearing into the night sky. 

Two droplets landed on her cheek.

She wiped them away leaving a smear of blood on her face.

“She’s dead, Bell.” 

 God Adler.

A red door slammed down in front of her with a metallic thud, embedding itself in the earth. 

Adler wanted her to move forward. 

Pushy bastard. 

She turned her back on the door and sat cross-legged on the soft earth. 

The ground was cold, sending a chill through her.

Red doors fell around her, and she shut her eyes, ignoring them. One nearly clipped her, but she refused to move.

Adler could bring them down on her head if he wanted to, but she wasn’t about to move.

A soft wind blew past her. She opened her eyes. The doors had turned to stone.

No. 

She was in a cemetery. 

Those were gravestones. 

She touched the letters etched into the freezing cold stone, running the tip of her finger through each one.

It was a sort of ritual she indulged in each time she came here. A meditation.

The closest thing she may ever have come to prayer.  

Pulling her hand away, she wrapped her coat tightly around her body as an icy wind rolled through the cemetery.

She sat there and contemplated. Asking herself the same question she asked every time she had come here. 

Why her and not me?

Why had she made it? 

By all rights, she should have died. Bled out in the snow. Or be shot by that American.

Fate had other plans for you. 

The cold air made her tired, and her head drooped as she began to doze. 

Rest here with her family. 

If only for a moment. 

“You’ll freeze to death out here,” A gently voice said. She was slow to register it. Slow to react. 

He picked her up and carried her out of the cemetery and she fell back asleep in his arms. 

When she woke, she found herself in a warm room. The only sounds were a ticking clock and a pencil scratching over paper.

He was sitting at his desk, writing.  She was curled up on his green couch. His long coat draped over her. Bell pushed it off. 

“You’re lucky I knew where to find you. You could have died out there.”

She gave him a dull look in response. 

“You’re such a serious child.”

Her expression turned to disgust. 

 She was 16. 

Probably.

 He turned his chair to face her.

“You were visiting your family again.”

An annoyingly obvious statement that she didn’t feel the need to respond to. 

“Have I ever told you that your father and I were friends?” He continued, “We worked together once.”

He hadn’t told her this before, but she kept her face even. She’d spent enough time around him and the people he worked with to know to not reveal anything if it can be helped. If he had caught her off guard, she wouldn’t let him know. And the old man would get to his point eventually.

“I knew what they were planning. Your parents.”

 He knew. 

 She felt a rush of fear. Her parents had warned her to never tell anyone. And she held to that. No one needed to know, especially now that they were dead.  

He opened a drawer on his desk, and her eyes followed the movement, wondering if he had some evidence stored away there. But when he produced a cigarette, she relaxed. He lit it and smoked. He was going to let her sit with her thoughts. Maybe to see if she would reveal something. But she knew to wait. 

 “Get their children out. Provide them with a better life in America,” He waved his cigarette as he spoke those last words. 

“I never thought they would buy into that nonsense. And turn their backs on their country,” He took a drag and eyed her. 

She had been holding her breath. 

He knew. 

Had he known this whole time? 

What was he going to do to her now?

“People will do what they can if they think they are protecting their children.”

It was then that she realized she hadn’t blinked, so she blinked now. It was the slightest movement, but his eyes flicked to hers. He had caught it. 

“But what if the Americans didn’t want you there? They’re afraid. They think everyone is a spy.”

“How-” She cleared her throat, “How did they know?”

“The Americans? Well, someone told them.”

There was no controlling herself. She leaped from the couch and onto her feet. 

“You?” She accused him in dark voice.

He stared at her and chuckled.

That fucking sound.

She was seething. 

He stood and shoved her back down onto the couch. Bell sputtered at this like an angry cat.

“Of course not.”

He looked her over. His denial hadn’t done much to calm her anger.

“What if I told you I found the man who betrayed them?”

“What would you do?”

“I’d kill him.”

 “-memory lane-”

“It’s a process.”

 Somewhere outside of her head the gods were fighting. 

Bell continued, ignoring them.

 They were standing in front of a door in the basement. A single ugly utility light illuminated the green painted metal door. Two guards stood on either side of the door. 

“He’s here?” Bell asked, staring hard at the door.

“He is.” 

The man placed a hand on the latch of the door and pushed it open a crack. 

Then he handed her a pistol. 

No one had given her a gun before. Outside of the shooting range at least.

Those were his orders. She was too young. And what did she need a gun for anyway? She was only breaking codes and providing translations. 

She took the gun and looked it over. 

From beyond the door she could hear heavy breathing. 

Who was behind it? Who had betrayed her family?

She had to know. And it would seem that the last thing they’d see was her face before she pulled the trigger.

Would they recognize her?

Bell stepped forward and pushed the door open.

There, in the center of the room, tied to a chair sat an old man.

Not the menacing figure she had expected.

He looked frail and starved. Beaten and bloody. 

Her breath caught in her throat as the man lifted his head and looked at her. Green eyes just barely visible underneath thick gray brows. 

“виктория?” The old man croaked. 

His voice dry. His face was so pale it seemed transparent. She could make out the blue veins spidering just underneath his skin. Blood dripped on the floor behind his back, his restraints cutting into his wrists.

Tears threatened to breach her eyes. But she wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of these people.

Not in front of him.

“We found him hiding out in an abandoned building. Living with the rats-”

“No!” The tutor rasped. 

The old man put his hands on her shoulders. 

“He betrayed your family.”

“Why?” She asked, her voice was soft. 

“To save his own ass. Coward,” He spat, “He was helping you to leave. Teaching you and your sister English. Idiot. Americans already have targets on their backs.”

“But the Americans were the ones who came for us-” Bell started. It didn’t make sense. Shouldn’t it have been the KGB then?

She looked up at the old man wide eyed. 

“He must have got a sense that the KGB was watching-”

“You!” She shouted, “You were watching! You asked all those questions!”

Bell raised the gun pointing it at the old man. 

He put his hands up, but signaled to the guards to stand down.

“Yes,” He admitted, “It was my job to look out for those who weren’t as committed to our cause. Imagine the pain I felt when I found out that my old friend, someone I trusted, was among them.”

 He took a beat before continuing.\.

“So I watched your family. And the people who lived in your building. We tapped into all communication. We followed everyone. And when I found that this man had betrayed you all, I came running. That’s why I was there that night. To warn you. To save you. But when I saw that building on fire, I thought I had lost. But then you were there, just barely clinging to life in the snow. I had to take you in.”

 He was right, he had saved her. She would have bled out if he hadn’t been there.

If his aim was to kill her, wipe out her family, then why would he have saved her? 

Bell shifted her stance, pointing the gun at the tutor now. 

 “Pretty speech. What a hero,” The tutor chuckled bitterly. 

“Funny coming from a man who sold out children. You contacted the Americans to get yourself out. Because you realized as soon as her family left we would start looking for anyone who helped them. But the Americans wouldn’t have bothered with an old nobody like you. However, they were interested in a scientist who had ties to the KGB weren’t they? That piqued their interest. And they could pick you up while they were here. Nevermind the family. Isn’t that what you said?”

Nevermind the family. 

Bell felt sick.

She thought he was her friend. That he was helping them. He had seemed so kind.

“They hadn’t expected a fight from the mother, had they? But she was just doing what mothers do best. Protecting her children.”

“Do what you need to do, виктория. I can’t weave tales the way he does,” The tutor said with a sigh. 

“If you don’t do it, I will,” The old man said matter of factly, “He will die tonight either way. Justice needs to be served.”

His words lit a fire in her. 

If anyone was going to do it it was only right that it be her. She couldn’t bare the shame of not acting. 

And so she fired.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bell turned up the handle on the shower. The lukewarm water quickly turned hot. But it wasn’t unbearable.

She placed her hands on the cool tile wall in front of her, letting the water run over her. It created rivers in the deep scars of her back before rolling off her skin and going down the drain.

She had killed a man and she hadn’t been certain about it. She had acted on an impulse. Because the idea of not acting had been unbearable. 

The memory felt fresh in her mind. Another regret to add to the list. Her chest felt tight with it. 

She could have asked more questions. She could have fired at Perseus. Which would have resulted in her own death, but wouldn’t the world have been better without them in it?

As these memories came to the surface wasn’t she realizing more and more that her existence only caused more suffering?

“Come with me,” The marionette called to her.

What would be the harm if she just quietly slipped away into her subconscious? 

Who would miss her? She hadn’t given the CIA any good information today. Perhaps she was reaching her expiration date. And they were only delaying the inevitable. 

“That’s just the drugs talking,” She whispered. 

She wasn’t thinking clearly. Bell turned up the hot water again. Her skin began to redden. 

Maybe the pain would bring her to her senses.

She leaned forward, placing her forehead on the tile.

“You don’t have to suffer like this. Haven’t you paid for your sins already?”

 Was she right?

 “We’re waiting for you. Come with me.” 

Bell slumped against the tile, slipping down the wall until she kneeled on the shower basin. Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“Ok,” She relented.