I told her because I wanted her to know, I wanted her to know everything about me.
I grabbed my second favorite pair of jeans, pulling them on before moving to the dresser. Opening the drawers I picked out one of the few non V-neck shirts I owned, an old t-shirt from a favorite pub from my days at Oxford. I tossed it on the bed as I dug around in the other drawers for a bra.
Slipping on the bra, I caught myself in the reflection of the floor length mirror I kept next to the closet, I scanned my body, noting the small pockets of fat that were thickening from the teenage diet I had been on for the last two weeks. I smiled and shook my head, noting that near the end of next week I would have to hit the treadmill.
I ran my hand over my flat-ish belly, looking away from my reflection as my fingers grazed the thin white scar that traveled from one side of my belly button to the top of my left hip.
When I had acquired this scar, I was far from close to developing the healing serum. Even after I had, it would not work on scar tissue, only circling around the thin white line and healing whatever other issues residing in my body. I was still diligently working on a serum to eliminate the only memory I really never wanted to keep.
"I think I left my phone in your bathroom, Claire."
I turned suddenly to the sound of Kit's voice entering the room, retracting me from my thoughts. She was dressed in jeans and the deep purple scoop neck shirt I had left in her closet. She was scanning the room looking for her phone when her eyes settled on me, standing semi-topless in front of the mirror, my hand resting on the edge of the scar right above my hip.
Kit blushed instantly, and before she turned away from scanning the length of my body, stopping to stare at certain key areas, I watched her eyes drift to the obvious scar on my abdomen, staring at it for a moment longer than she had my covered breasts.
Kit ran a hand through her hair, turning her back to me, "I should have knocked, I kind of freaked out when I couldn't find the phone and was in a hurry." She glanced at me from the corner of her eye, taking another look at the thin white scar.
I smiled, grabbing my shirt, yanking it onto end Kit's obvious self-imposed torture.
As I tugged the bottom of the hem down, I spoke softly, "I'd never shot a gun before that day, well, seriously shot a gun. I had gone to gun clubs and historical re-enactment events while on the campaign trail for my senate seat, but that was for publicity photos, me holding a shotgun and smiling at the camera, or pretending to take out a British red coat on the shores of New York."
I walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, leaning on my elbows as they rested on my thighs.
"I was a target then. Not for the reasons I am now, then I had revealed that I was taking over my parents chair seats with the Criterion Centre. Continuing to help fund-raising efforts as a ruse to be able to explain away why I was in Geneva more than any normal person should be."
I looked at Kit, standing on the other side of the bed listening as she stared at me. I held out my hand to her, I wanted her closer for some reason.
She took my hand and I gently led her to sit next to me as I held onto her hand. "I will always remember The Perfecting Church, even if they were disbanded by the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security shortly after my attack." I half smiled as I set Kit and I's hands on my thigh. "They were the most creative and I took them for granted."
Kit squeezed my hand, moving closer to me, so close our legs and arms touched, "How did they get to you?"
I took a slow breath, "I was ignorant and ill prepared. This house was not locked down as it is now, I trusted basic security systems that were defeated by a few snips of cables and a well-placed fake service call." I looked up from my thigh, focusing on the one spot on the wall where all the plaster had to be replaced, stained with blood. My blood.
"It was meant to look like a breaking and entering gone wrong. Two members of the Perfecting Church, who were also skilled hunters, broke into the house while I was asleep.” I stared hard at the spot on the wall, “I had gone to bed early to prepare for my flight to Geneva the next morning, Rebecca went to the gym and left me in the house alone. There had been no major threats aside from the usual hate mail, so I felt there was no reason to suspect someone wanted me dead to prove a point or further their own agenda."
Tearing my eyes way from the wall I looked at Kit, in those hazel eyes that seemed to steady me when I needed it most, "One of the men tried to strangle me in my sleep, crept into the bed but I woke up the moment I felt the weight shifting on the mattress. I assumed it was Rebecca since we had just moved into the beginnings of a physical relationship and sharing a bed." I paused, the flashes of the man's dark eyes glinting from the light reflected from the bathroom nightlight. "It quickly became a brawl. An all-out fight for my life."
I closed my eyes, seeing the incident clearly. The way I rolled out of the bed after punching the man in the bed in the throat. Managing to get away from the first attacker only to be scooped up by the second, who rushed me the moment I landed on my feet.
A gun was soon pressed to my temple and a statement issued by the first man. Irreverently spewing venom about my relationship to the Centre and supporting all the things their god frowned upon. Abortion, stem cell research, planned parenthood.
I kept my eyes shut, "I knew I was going to die that night so I threw everything I had left at them. I disabled the second attacker with the gun by hitting him below the belt so many times that if he did survive, he would never have children. I then picked up his gun and as I spun around to face my first attacker, he slashed at me with a gutting knife." I cocked my head at Kit, "The kind that has the slight curved hook near the end?" Kit nodded she knew what I meant; "It cut through me like nothing and I felt nothing but my body slipping away with every bit of blood that poured out of the wound."
I moved my eyes from Kit and unconsciously to the spot on the floor where I laid, counting away the seconds before death took me. "I still had the gun in my hand as I collapsed to the floor. The two men struggled to leave, injured and panicking that it had all gone wrong."
I pulled Kit's hand closer to me, covering our hands with my free hand. "All I could hear was the voice of the old man at the skeet range, telling me to just point, breathe and pull the trigger. So I did. I pointed at the two, took what I thought was my last breath and pulled the trigger until the ear-piercing pops turned into clicks. I dropped the empty gun and closed my eyes. Listening to the two lifeless lumps gurgle in the hallway."
I felt Kit's other hand come to the middle of my back, pressing gently to let me know she was still there. It made me smile and ease the clench I had in my jaw the entire time, "I only remember waking up in the back of an ambulance, Rebecca sitting next to the stretcher, looking at me as if I was a ghost. Surprised I was still alive."
I leaned against Kit, "84 is my lucky number."
Kit ran her hand up and down my back, "84?"
I nodded, laughing lightly, "The number of staples to close up the wound and the percentage of blood I lost. The doctors are still not sure how I survived."
I stood up from the bed and Kit suddenly, moving to stand in front of the dresser staring at the random jewelry I had in boxes, "After that night, I spent all the money necessary to secure the house, my work, and invest in private protection. To learn how to protect myself." I rolled my fingers over a pearl necklace, "I became a doctor to save lives, not take them."
I turned to Kit, "I know it's a morbid thought, hiring someone to protect and eliminate when the time came." I smiled tightly, watching Kit's face twitch at my words, "I have killed two people in my life. I didn't do it for survival or protection, I did it because I as I felt my heart slow with every last pump of my arteries, I wanted justice. Justice I knew the two men would never see as I died and they were hunted down. Face an exaggerated trial and sit in the prison system as taxpayers paid for their lifetime housing." I leaned my back against the dresser, "I never told anyone about this. But after I woke up in the h
ospital, I couldn't stop thinking about those last few thoughts. It bothered me and I had made a silent promise that I would never do it again. Seek a sort of vigilante justice."
Kit carried a strange look on her face, staring deep into my eyes. She had shifted from concerned listening as I told my story, to anger and irritation as I gave her my reasons why I sought out private protection. I was hitting a deep buried nerve, one I had no idea how to navigate around, because I had no idea where it was rooted. I wanted Kit to lash out and open up, pour out secrets so I could understand her better. I was opening up to her to show her that I trusted her and wanted her to trust me wholly.
Kit turned away after a moment, looking at the floor, at the same spot I had laid for what felt like an eternity in my own blood. "Is that what you expect from me? To eliminate? Take out the threats like a common street thug because you don't have the stomach or the training for it?" Kit's voice was edged with a building anger.
I shook my head, even though Kit was not looking at me, "No. I hired you because after thousands of candidate files that passed through my hands, you were the only one that had a record of deescalating and disabling, not escalating and eliminating." I moved away from the dresser, standing next to the side of the bed. I went to sit down next her but stopped when she moved to the far edge, giving me plenty of space. I remained standing, "Rebecca's way of doing things is to secure and evacuate. It has made my enemies see me as weak and that is why I think they have charged hard at me lately."
I paused, "Do you want to really know why I hired you after less than five meetings after meeting face to face?" I needed to move the conversation somewhere else, to try to reclaim the listening Kit, not the one that was slowly shutting down with anger in front of me.
Kit craned her neck slightly as I moved closer to her, questioning me silently.
"I hired you because of what I saw when I looked into your eyes." I tried to get her to look at me, but she was resilient. Looking away from me and back at the spot on the floor she had bored holes in over the last few minutes.
Kit chuckled, "A drunk trying to hold back in the need to vomit all over your fancy rug? Is that what you saw in my eyes that day?" She was irritated and I was curious to know what I had said or done to set her off.
I folded my arms tighter across my chest, finally sitting on the bed close to Kit. I wanted to close the distance between us physically and emotionally. "I saw a woman who would do everything in her power to keep me safe and alive. That like me, you swore to save lives not take them. That you would push past the demons and the memories that haunt you, do your job in the best way possible to keep everyone alive to face the justice you swore to serve when you took on the badge of a Secret Service agent." I paused, trying to conjure up the words to tell her that when I looked in her eyes, she stole away my breath and my heart away in one hard stare. I reached out for her hand. "Kit, you are more than just that Secret Service agent in that file. You mean the world to..."
Kit flinched, standing up quickly, cutting me off as her voice rose when she spoke, "I am not a Secret Service agent anymore. You do remember that part of my file right? The part where I fucked up and killed two people and was let go?" She glared at me, "Now I am just a thug for hire. No agency other than Davey's would touch me with a ten foot pole attached to a twenty thousand dollar signing bonus." Kit laughed hard and stared at the ceiling, "Trust me I've tried, he's tried and no one will touch me." She dropped her eyes to mine, "I truly am a thug for hire who has the training and the ability where you don't for the times when you don't want to. I am nothing more than that and never will be, all because of the two deaths I have under my belt."
Kit threw her hands up at me out of frustration, "I have to find my phone." She stormed out slamming my bedroom door behind her.
Left alone in the room, I stood staring at the dent she had left from sitting on the bed. I would have to break down her walls to find out why Kit was so afraid and why she had lost her temper just now.
I dialed the pizza place up and canceled the delivery order I had placed ten minutes ago, lunch would have to wait. I swiped through a few emails until I found the one I had ignored over the last two days, quickly typing up a response. When I was finished I hit Davidek’s number, he answered on the second ring.
I smiled hearing my old friend’s cheesy greeting, "Can you set the range up for Kit and I? I would like to get her qualifications done as soon as I can today."
Davidek excitedly agreed. I hung up after telling him we would be down in a few hours. I then locked my phone, tucking in it in my back pocket as I moved to the closet, kneeling down and grabbing the black case I set there the other night casually. I opened it and set the gun from the bedside table into the soft padding of the interior.
Snapping the case shut, I knew I would have to prove Kit wrong about a few things, to get her to understand that she was much more than a hired thug to me.
I found my phone in Claire's office on the desk where I had left it when she revealed everything about her life as Dr. Avondale. I grabbed the phone and scanned the room one more time. The remnants of her work floating across her screen welcoming me in to the fold of this new side of the blonde. The woman was incomprehensibly brilliant and I fully understood why she had enemies, enemies who were envious of her ability to pull apart the secrets of life and give us all the freedom time restricts us with.
I closed the office door, walked back upstairs and out the back door. I didn't want to be in the house right now. Claire's story about her attackers hit me to the core and I was already getting angry at the attackers for getting as close as they did to her, almost killing the woman. There was also anger at Rebecca for not being there for Claire when it all went down.
I trotted down the side of the hill, the soles of my converse molding to the bumpy grass and dirt mixture that made up the hill. What made me lose my temper was listening to Claire explain why she went the route to severe private protection. I couldn't think past the few key words that set my temper off, the words that made me feel like I was a hired thug, a glorified bouncer to pick up the dirty work the Senator didn't want to do. When Claire could have easily spent her endless millions on her own training and defend herself.
I didn't want to sit and listen to the reasons why I was better suited because I was trained to kill but opted not to, instead valuing human life no matter the evil that life held. I had tuned her out to try to control my bubbling anger, even when I slowly began to realize I was angry because I had yet to face what I had done and accept it.
Claire had, she accepted that what she did was out of a need for deathbed revenge she couldn't change that night, nut possibly only change the future. It pissed me off that she was so easy about it as she spoke of killing those two men.
I knew Claire was slowly pushing for me to open up, I saw it in the way she suddenly told me the story and the secrets of how she felt after the fact. She expected me to turn around and spill my heart out, let her in deeper and reveal why one day in Montreal continued to control every inch of my life for the last two years.
It was her self-righteous tone when she mumbled that as a doctor she was meant to save lives and not take them. I gritted my teeth, if only she knew the half of it. I had also killed two people, only two people but it was more than enough. Those two deaths haunted me every minute of every day and when Claire explained her need to hire someone to eliminate threats for her when the time came, I stopped listening. I never went into the Secret Service to eliminate, I went in to protect and serve. Just like all innocent fresh-faced kids with big hopes and dreams for the world around them.
I walked until I could no longer see the edged rooftop of the house, seeking out a rock to sit on so I was still able to look down as the rest of the hill fell into the rooftops and the ocean. I propped my feet up on the edge and huddled against my knees. Letting the wind whirl around me, I let out slow breaths to release the stress, irritation and anger that came from nowhere. Sparking up like a mid-s
ummer brush fire.
Claire made me feel like an upgrade for Rebecca, that Rebecca was no longer making the cut, personally and professionally. I had seen it that day at the university, Rebecca only wanted to get Claire out of the area and deal with the threat later or have someone else do it. It was clear that personal feelings and a past where beginning to cloud the job set before the smaller brunette.
I swiped at the hair blowing around my face, I could deal with being a replacement but I was beginning to wonder if the feelings between us were real or a rouse to get me to throw all of my chips into the pot, buying in completely with both sides of Claire. What bothered me the most was when Claire tried to tell me that she still saw the agent who I had been in my eyes, not the failed human who became a drunk and gave up believing in the greater good after I had signed on the dotted line of Secret Service.
I failed just like Rebecca but on a bigger picture, Claire lived. Robert and Callum didn't.
I continued to sit on the rock, rolling the cell phone in my hands trying to figure it all out, sifting through memories, feelings and realities. I was hired to do a job and I was falling in love with a complex and brilliant woman who could easily manipulate me with the flick of her finger if she so chose to as such. I was confused more than ever of what Claire wanted from me, if she wanted a repeat performance of Rebecca, if she wanted a hire thug that did her dirty work but shared her bed at night, or if she was really searching out what my heart was beginning to crave from her. A chance to feel whole again with someone. A chance to stop chasing the past and leave the agent I was in the past.
The wind settled down to slow breezes, carrying up the ocean air for me to breathe in, each breath reminded me of Claire. Making me squeeze my eyes shut with the turning of my stomach. My father always told me that no matter how humans tried, history repeated itself, that it was our ignorant curse in life. An inability to take the lessons we learn and properly apply them. Those words never rang truer in this moment. I was on the verge of repeating history with Claire. I groaned and leaned on my elbows.
Redemptio Animae Page 22