Redemptio Animae

by Sydney Gibson

  I leaned back in the chair I was pushed into by the female paramedic, slipping my hands under my thighs to continue hiding that I had lost it in the bathroom. “His backpack and the way he clutched it with a purpose. I knew it was a bomb or something. I figured if I took him outside with it, the blast radius would be less damaging.” I rolled my head against the wall I had it leaned against, looking towards Claire and Rebecca, “If anything, he would have only taken out the two of us.” I waved my hand around the room, “If you look around the room, Rebecca, you will see that this room was a bomb shelter leftover from the cold war and recently converted into a safe room up to the suggested specs of the Department of Homeland Security.” I let out a sigh and found myself staring at Claire, “It was safer to keep her here than stay by her side.”

  I closed my eyes and rolled my head back, I was tired. I was exhausted and tired of having to answer a million questions for something that took me less than five minutes to deal with.

  I heard the small brunette huff, another one of her tells. Letting me know I had proven her wrong once again. I smiled to myself, relishing in another tiny victory of the aggravating woman.

  “I will be taking Claire home now.” Rebecca repeated, “You can take the rest of the day off and return in the morning after you speak with the authorities and get your injury taken care of.” Rebecca's voice was irritating me. I nodded and said nothing, keeping my eyes close. I was still trying to fight memories and the need to throw up again.

  I heard a few whispers that I didn't bother to focus on; I was focusing on other things, like a nice glass of scotch with three ice cubes. I heard the side door was open, footsteps shuffling across the carpet tile signaling that they were finally leaving. I let out a breath when I heard the side door click closed.

  “Kit, will you please call me when you leave the hospital?” Claire's voice was softer than I had ever heard it in the short time I knew the woman. My eyes flicked open, meeting her blue green ones.

  I shrugged and leaned forward in the chair, my hand escaping its hiding place under my thigh to settle on the arm rest, “It's just a scratch.” I had done worse to my body in late night drunken stumbling’s.

  Claire's hand suddenly covered mine on the arm rest, the warmth of her hand spreading through my body and sending calm through my entire being. “Kit, I don't want to have to order you to do so.” She looked down at the floor, “Forgive Rebecca, she is still listed on the contact sheet for when...” She drifted off.

  “You don't need to explain, I’m getting used to her tearing me a new one every time I fail to meet her standards.” I wanted to pull my hand away from hers, but at the same time I didn't. “You should go Senator, she is waiting and it would be better if you went home and got some rest.” I glanced at our hands and gently slid mine out from under hers, “It's been a busy day.” I immediately missed her warmth as the cold air hit my hand, making it shake again.

  Claire hesitated before finally turning back to the side door. When she pulled it open, I called after her, “I will see you in the morning Claire.”

  She responded by smiling tightly at me, “Yes you will, Kit.” She paused, “And thank you.” She turned and walked out the door, met by Rebecca whispering god knows what.

  But in those three words, I knew it was just more than a simple thank you. It was Claire's way of reaffirming that she had made the right choice in choosing me to be her bodyguard and assistant. What made my heart sink was that I was about to do something stupid in the next few hours, because it was the only way I knew how to chase away my demons.

  ____________________

  Five hours later, after giving statements to the FBI agent who showed up shortly after Claire left and after getting six stitches to close up my cheek, I went home. Walked right into the kitchen, setting down the brown paper bag Tito handed to me after dusting off the bottle of Dewar's, I wasted no time in spinning the cap off the bottle, pouring myself a large glass of scotch, I flopped down onto my couch.

  Drowning my vivid memories that had been chasing me the moment I heard what was in that black backpack with every large sip of the amber liquid. My body eagerly welcoming the scotch, I slowly abandoned the glass, taking drinks straight from the bottle as the sounds of Mozart’s Requiem in D minor took me further away.

  I passed out halfway through the bottle into a numbing drunken sleep highlighted by dreams of penguins swimming in time to the music that permeated into my dreams.

  Chapter 5

  I didn't want to leave Kit. I wanted to make sure she went to the hospital and was examined; I wanted her to be taken care of. She had kept up her brave exterior in front of Rebecca and I. Going so far as to sit on her hands to hide the shakes that were flooding her body. It made me worried and afraid of what she was going to do next the second I left her in the copy room. I knew the incident had rattled Kit more than she expected.

  It also rattled me in unexpected ways.

  It had been five years since the last close call and almost six years since I began funneling my own money into private protection, resulting in my life becoming almost impenetrable. In that period of time I had slipped into a small bubble of ignorance, ignorance that nothing would happen to me again. But I knew as the further my work went with the Criterion Centre and the more public it became; the more I would be met with black backpacks on the backs of strangers wanting to end my existence.

  I was lost in my own struggle of keeping my emotions in check, to bother to listen to Rebecca prattle on about which agents from the FBI and the Secret Service would be meeting us back at the house for an impromptu after action report. I was only focusing more on Kit and how I was worried about her more than I should. How her hand only stop trembling when I covered it with mine.

  "Claire, I want to debrief Kit in the morning and have her go over the specifics of what she saw. This threat will continue and I want to make sure we are prepared for it. Better prepared for it." Rebecca was being smug and had given me strange looks from the moment she rushed into the copy room in a panic.

  I rubbed my forehead while the side of my head rested against the deep window tint of Rebecca's car, "She was prepared." I was exhausted and every time I closed my eyes I could see the look in Kit's eyes when she came back into the copy room, bloodied and battered. She looked for me first and only me.

  "Kit shouldn't have left you. She should have called the campus security and let them deal with it." Rebecca's jaw clenched, "I can see why she failed in the Secret Service."

  I had enough and snapped at her, "Rebecca stop! Just please stop!" I turned to glare at the pale blue eyes that widened as my voice continued to rise, "Did you even hear Kit when she said that if anything at least her and the young man would have been the only victims if the IED was detonated? She was willing to sacrifice herself to keep me safe, keep me alive." My hand curled up into a tight ball when I began to have quick flashbacks of hearing the sounds of Kit and the young man fight outside, meshing with the yelling of the campus police.

  Rebecca tore her eyes away from mine. I kept on, unable to stop as the dam was cracked. “Did you also hear her explain that the room she left me in was the safest place? What do you want her to do? Stand by me and let some manic take out the supporters that were there, but stay by my side, keep me safe and only me?"

  Rebecca shifted in the driver's seat, I was making her uncomfortable, "Claire, you know that I worry only because I care about you." Her tone was softer and the smugness was missing.

  I took a deep breath, bringing down the tone in my voice, "Kit has proven herself." I dropped the rest of what I was going to say. Returning to my view of the traffic, I clenched my jaw when I began reviewing the incident in my mind. What Kit said and what she did. She admitted she would have sacrificed herself as plainly as if she was asking for a glass of water. Telling me that Kit really had a little value in staying alive, but would do anything to keep those she protected safe. It upset me to see that in the woman who had just saved my life
without hesitation.

  Rebecca began talking again, softer and slower. I knew why Rebecca was overprotective and cautious about Kit. She had been by my side for a long time and at one point I cared for her as much as she still cared for me. But, that was years ago and things had changed between us when I saved her life. I had to make a difficult choice that day and it forever altered our relationship into just the close friendship we had now.

  I barely paid attention to Rebecca and whatever it was she was talking about, and closed my eyes. Seeing Kit walk in with the blood on her face placed more than just worry of my employee from in the pit of my stomach. I had the urge, the instinct to run to her, grab her and take her to the hospital myself. Sit with her, take her home and stay with her for however long it took.

  I let out a sigh and pressed harder against the cool glass, welcoming the sting it brought to my pounding headache. There was something about Kit that made me care more than I knew I should for a new bodyguard. I hoped it was just a deep-rooted desire to save her from herself and not anything else.

  Back at the house I instructed Rebecca to deal with the waiting agents, to ultimately send them away until the morning. I was not eager to discuss the threat on my life and hear them discuss wanting to provide me with more protection details, conversations had a multitude of times over the years. I wanted to shower and sit on the patio in my bedroom until night fell, not sit amongst stuffy agents all trying to save the world.

  After a scalding shower I dressed in a floppy grey sweater and linen pajama pants. Walking to the large chair on the patio, I went to my secret stash under the large bookcase I had in the side study next to my bedroom. I wrapped my fingers around the slender bottle of gin I had tucked away and only to pull it out when the time called for it.

  Now was one of those times.

  I poured two fingers in a tumbler, tucking the gin back into its hiding place before I sat in the wooden chair on the patio, taking deep breaths of the evening ocean air. Curling my legs under me, I stared out towards the ocean and let my nerves take over, giving them the release we both needed.

  I swallowed hard, wiping away the tears that slid silently down my face. I had held back all of my emotions from the minute Kit's hand sat on the small of my back, guiding me into the copy room. I had to hold back, I couldn't show weakness in front of anyone. Not even my brand new bodyguard.

  Now there was no one, just me and my expansive view. I could cry and let go of the thin strings of strength I had clutched to for most of the day, the ocean, the trees and the sand in front of me to be the only witnesses to a moment of weakness.

  I wiped my cheek with the sleeve of my sweater and went to sip the gin. I suddenly stopped as the edge of the glass was at my lips, pulling it back I stared at it. For a minute I felt hypocritical. Chastising Kit for every drop of liquor she pushed past her lips when rough seas hit, and here I was seeking the same comfort. I leaned over the side of the chair, setting the glass on the stone tile. I tucked my hand back into my sleeve, curling up tighter into a ball as I stared out into the horizon.

  Every other second thought drifted to Kit and the feelings she was starting to bring out in me. I was again, hoping it was not a result from her saving my life.

  I checked my phone and saw there were no phone calls or messages from Kit. It was five hours later and my heart began to sink slowly. I tapped the phone on my leg, debating, I would give her the rest of the night. Hoping that she was caught up in interviews and statements and not something else that could be poured in a glass and used to numb the day away.

  The sun setting made the air around me too cool to remain outside. I picked up the untouched glass of gin, dumping it down the bathroom sink, checking my phone one more time as I set the glass off to the side near the patio. My phone still had nothing from Kit. It was now ten o'clock.

  The sinking feeling I had from earlier was growing stronger, my stomach starting to turn in fear.

  I gave in, tossing my phone on the bed before walking down to the kitchen to find something to eat. Now that the anxiety and stress of the day was almost gone, my stomach was begging to be filled.

  I dug around the fridge to make a sandwich when Rebecca shuffled in to stand behind me.

  “Claire I can make you something." She was in her pajamas, looking at me softly. The earlier irritation from the car came back as I glanced at her. I had to get Rebecca on the same page I was with Kit. If she didn't, we would all continue to fail in moving my work forward and Kit would never find her way out of her past.

  I waved absently at her, "It's just a sandwich, I can manage." I picked at the package of tomatoes and bread in front of me. I stilled my hands, leaning them on the counter I looked firmly at Rebecca, "I need you to put aside whatever it is you think about Kit and focus on her training."

  Rebecca took a step closer to me, reaching for my hand when she paused, instead folding her arms and hands to lean away from me, "Claire, I told you. I can't help it. There is something about her I don't feel confident about."

  I hung my head down, staring at the counter. I repeated myself, "I need you to put it aside. You are not making it easier on her; you are only making it worse." I stood up straight and stared, "Please. I need you in Geneva."

  Rebecca flinched at my even tone, "I understand, Claire." She went to turn away and leave the kitchen, speaking over her shoulder, "I will see you in the morning."

  I said nothing as she left me alone in the kitchen. Things had changed between her and I, and in the last few days, it was changing more. I knew it was partially because of Kit and her explosive, unsteady appearance into our lives.

  I let out a sigh, finished making the sandwich and ate it in bed. I curled up into the soft pillows and blankets of my giant empty bed, hoping that at seven thirty I would see Kit pulling into the driveway for her second day of work.

  __________________

  Seven thirty came and went. Rebecca did her best to hold her tongue when she came into the sitting room to inform me that Kit had yet to arrive and was not responding to any of the many phone calls Rebecca made.

  "What would you like to do? I can drive to her house and retrieve her, or I can call Davey and have him check on Kit." Rebecca swiped through the tablet in her hands, "I have no resignation letter from her, but I do have the FBI statements. She was interviewed an hour after we left. Checked out of the hospital shortly after that." Rebecca glanced at me with questioning eyes.

  I clutched the hot cup of tea in my hands. I stood up and faced her, "Is the Cadillac still in the garage?"

  Rebecca nodded, immediately understanding why I was asking, "Of course." She tucked the tablet under her arm, "I can drive you or you can take my car." She was less aggressive in her tone, meaning she was now respecting my request to put things aside.

  I shook my head, "I can take the Cadillac. I will need you to pick up some things while I am out." I grabbed a pad of paper from the side table in the sitting room, scribbling a list quickly. I tore the sheet off and handed it to Rebecca, she scanned the sheet, nodding in approval, “It will be ready when you return, Claire."

  I smiled, "Thank you." I brushed past her and moved to my bedroom, pulling on boots and grabbing my leather jacket. I was back in my vacation uniform of old jeans and V-neck shirt. My hair was back down and I had forgone makeup. I was still exhausted from the day before and cared little about my physical appearance.

  I stepped to my closet, bending down to reach into the back; I removed a black plastic case. I clicked open the case, picking up the custom P99 Rebecca also had made for me, and slid it into a holster, tucking it into the back of my jeans before putting on the leather jacket. The jacket did a fantastic job of completely concealing any trace I had a weapon on my person. I had not worn it in years nor felt like I needed the weapon until now. Now I had to be careful, more careful than I had been in the last few years as the whispered threats became well-spoken ones, materializing sooner than I expected. I sighed, slowly realizing this would
be the path my life would continue to take as I progressed with my work.

  I took a moment to steady my nerves and mind before standing back up to walk downstairs to the garage.

  Rebecca met me outside on the gravel drive path, having moved the Cadillac out of the garage for me. She smiled, handing me the keys, "I programmed the GPS to take you directly to her house. I attempted a few more calls, and still no answer."

  I grabbed the keys from her and went to sit down when Rebecca grabbed my forearm, "Be careful Claire. There is still a high threat alert issued against you."

  I nodded and smiled, "I am prepared, but I'm sure I won't need it." Rebecca nodded, dropping her hand from my forearm. We were always able to communicate silently, regardless of what our feelings for each other were.

  I sat down in the driver’s seat, closing the door and wasted no time driving away from Rebecca. I glanced back at her in the rear view mirror. I could see her jaw clench in worry and frustration as I took the right turn away from the house, leaving her behind.

  _____________________

  The small house was cute from the outside and seemed to be well taken care of from a distance. I parked the Cadillac behind the Lincoln in the driveway, somewhat relieved that Kit had at least made it home, or at least the car made it home safely.

  Walking up to the front door I tucked the car keys into my front pocket, taking a deep breath before taking off my aviators. I had a sinking feeling of what would be waiting on the other side of the door when I knocked and I wanted Kit to recognize me easily at first sight.

  Holding my hand up to the dark wooden door, I hesitated for a moment. Wondering if I really did want to see what my gut was telling me would be in the house. I shook my head, nothing ever moved forward unless chances were taken, a lifelong mantra that had lead me successfully through my entire career and beyond. I lowered my hand and when it made contact with the door, the door creaked, open under the slight pressure my knuckles applied.