Claire had been quieter than in the morning from the moment we left the museum, on. She was still a bit giddy and smiling at me, but I could feel and see her mind was absorbed into thought. I knew it would be the same topic I kept returning to as I pretended to care to look at the clothes and jewelry Claire pointed out.
Both of us doing our best to continue ignoring the elephant in the room, eventually waiting for when I grew the balls to ask her if we could go to lunch and talk. When I was close to blurting it out, an American couple, obviously tourists, walked into the small jewelry store we were in.
Claire was browsing the ring section with her brow furrowed in contemplative thought while I hovered in the back looking at necklaces for my mother. Claire and the one salesman were speaking in hushed French, both bent over a glass case, Claire pointing at random rings for the salesman to pull out for her to have a closer look. I felt my throat go dry and walked further into the back of the store, my brain going into overdrive at what she could possibly be looking at.
Claire was thinking about something, and had been for the last couple of hours, and I feared what that something was. It was a good fear I held, in a way. I only worried that if she decided I was the one she wanted to marry if I could be able to convince her to wait until we both could breathe easier without him lurking in the shadows.
At the same time, Marie's sage old advice rang in my ears, time was wasting away. It had been proven in the short time I had known Claire that all it took was a blink of the eye and everything could be changed, taken away. I knew I wanted to marry Claire, that was inevitable, but so much of my gut was screaming now wasn't the time. I had to keep her safe, protected, not try and find the perfect ring or the perfect moment to surprise her professing my eternal love and desire to seal it with a ring and a terrible pasta dish at the reception.
It was also my past sneaking up on me, the last time I was this close to a proposal, I had to kill him.
I was lost in my own ridiculous thoughts that I paid little attention to the loud Americans with east coast accents that dripped with money, until they immediately recognized Claire. It seems the rich man and his blonde trophy wife were some of her largest campaign contributors and two of her biggest fans. They cornered Claire and began asking her all about the shooting and how long until she returned to the Senate, would she be running for re-election, and if she would be interested in joining them for dinner at the Ritz.
Claire did well, sliding into the Senator easily and moving her arm in a manner that would show the nosy tourists she was still healing and unwilling to talk about that day outside of her office. In between fake smiles and politely declining the dinner invitation, she quickly motioned to the salesman to wrap whatever piece of jewelry the two had come to agree on with excited tones, right before the two Americans blustered in to the shop like small dust storm. Swarming and choking the air with their perfume and cologne. Upsetting the gentle silence and peace of the small shop. Oddly enough, I was grateful for the distraction, it pulled me out of my head and back into bodyguard mode.
Five minutes into the loud conversation, Claire gave me a look. A look that asked me to come to her rescue, immediately. I smiled, walking over to the three, politely interrupting the eager couple to inform them that it was time to get Senator Avondale back to her cottage for afternoon therapy.
The couple issued genuine apologies, thinking I was Secret Service. They stepped to the back of the store, still whispering loudly about meeting Senator Avondale, but allowing Claire and I to leave the small shop without any further questioning.
Outside the small shop and back on the cool cobblestone streets, I tugged my coat closer, looking at Claire as she came to my side. The Senator still in play, she looked very worn and as if she lost herself to deeper inside her head. I reached for her elbow, pulling her closer to me, "Do you still want to get dinner? Or would you like me to try and cook something for us?" I was hoping my voice and reminding her of our plans would shake her out of the Senator mask and her head.
Claire smiled tightly, running her hands over her hair as she let out a breath. The Senator going back into hiding, "I will order carry out from the restaurant, have them bring something up to us at the cottage." She pulled my hand free from her arm to hold within hers, "It was silly of me to think that I could walk freely here, or anywhere for that matter." She sighed, "I forget things when I am happy, forget the reality of the world I live in. Who I am in this world." Claire squeezed my hand, pausing as more thoughts pulled her deeper into an awkward silence.
I nodded, wanting to say something, anything to comfort her. Claire shook her head when she saw the look in my eyes, "It's okay Kit, just take me back to the cottage." She wiggled my hand with hers, signaling that we should start walking before anyone else took notice of who the blonde holding my hand was.
We walked back to the car in silence. Gone was the silliness and giddiness of earlier, replaced by the harsh reality that came with being Senator Claire Avondale. Celebrity to some, prey to others. I left it alone as Claire sank into the plush leather seat of the small BMW, leaning her head against the passenger window, smiling softly as she clutched to my hand. It made my heart hurt to see Claire lose the happiness from this morning so quickly.
_______________________
We caught Davey and Rebecca walking down the front steps of the cottage as we walked up. The second she saw Davey her face lit up and she jogged slowly to him. Throwing her arms around him as he lifted her up, squeezing her. I stood back, watching the two friends greet each other.
Rebecca stood off to the side, smiling in her usual stoic and stale way. I looked harder at the smaller brunette and wonder if she was like that even when she was with Claire. Stoic, practiced, controlled and emotionally stifled. The only time I had ever seen the woman exhibit anything that hinted at emotion was when she and I were going toe to toe, or the far off doe eyed looks she threw Claire when no one was looking. I wonder if the woman ever genuinely smiled, laughed or emoted anything that could be recognized as a positive emotion.
As I walked up to the two friends hugging, I actually felt bad for Rebecca. To sit and have to watch the one person she loved open up to someone else in a way she never got to experience must have been hard to digest. It made sense why she despised me for as long as she did before it turned into a respectful distaste.
Davey set Claire down, looking over her shoulder at me giving a playful wink when we made eye contact. "Rebecca and I are on our way back down to the Centre, we dropped off the updated files you asked for. All of the complete CIA files they had on the two bees that escaped the lab accident, primarily Benson and Jessica as requested. We are still digging through the deepest corners of the internet Ivan and Rebecca can access." He shrugged, "There isn't much, but it will be some nice light reading before bed." He smirked, "If you two intend to actually sleep tonight."
I shook my head, slapping his shoulder as Claire turned beet red and Rebecca awkwardly cleared her throat and told Davey she would meet him at the car. "Davey, seriously. You are worse than a teenager."
He shrugged, still grinning, "That may be, but I still have a lot of payback to hand out to you girls. Letting me sit and lay on that couch after you two..." He shivered, disgusted as his mind roamed to places better left untouched, "Anyways, I'll leave you two alone." He nodded at Claire, "Oh Dr. Zehren called, stated Beth's scans are all clear. He wants you to take a quick look at them and then sign off on releasing the girl so they can return home in time for the holidays." Davey waved at the cottage, "They already signed the confidentiality agreement, willingly. That package is sitting with the other files." He grinned at Claire, "You did it Bits. I am so unbelievably proud of you."
Claire looked at her boot tops, smiling as she mumbled a thank you. The tough Senator and brilliant doctor falling away to that shy, bashful little girl that Davey grew up with. He slugged her shoulder playfully, "Go enjoy the rest of your day, call me if you need anything." He took a step, squeez
ing Claire's arm and winking one more time at me before he paused and turned back to Claire, "One more thing. Prahkan dal svoye pokrovitel'stvo. Vy na yego popechenii, yesli kogda-libo neobkhodimo." The words flew out in clipped, perfect Russian. I was only able to pick out the base words from the feeble attempt I made to teach myself Russian but gave up when it became a moot point after I left the Secret Service.
Claire's eyebrow raised as she stared back at Davey’s bright copper eyes, she nodded once, replying back in equally as perfect Russian, "Skazhite yemu, chto eto bol'shaya chest' I bol'shoye spasibo."
Davey grinned, "Alright, later girls." He hollered over his shoulder as he ran to the silver Mercedes sedan parked at the end of the driveway, Rebecca sitting in the passenger seat visibly clenching her jaw. "You two owe me lunch!"
I laughed, finding Claire's hand as Davey revved the engine, beeping the horn as he sped off. "He surprises me the more I get to know him. I never saw him to be such a...boy." I glanced up in her eyes, "What did you two just say? I only picked up the words need and the."
Claire chuckled, "He will forever be an obnoxious boy to me." She glanced down to meet my eyes, "When he allows his own mask to slip away and let the silly out, it's because he feels safe enough around family to do so." Claire smiled tightly, "You are a part of this family permanently now, Kit. Get used to him being this way." She stared in my eyes for a second, something else she wanted to say radiating in her irises. The elephant barging back into the awkward pauses of another conversation, begging for one of us to say something. Anything, as long as it was acknowledged.
Claire turned away from me, walking us up the final few stone steps, unlocking the massive wood front door. Holding it open for me to walk into the cottage, dropping my hand when I entered the small foyer. "Davidek was just telling me that I have a few more friends on my side. Russian friends." She kept her head down, folding her arms across her chest. "I will call down to the restaurant, we can read over the files while we wait." Claire once again fell into her head, making me worried and wanting to pull out what was bothering her more over dinner.
I sighed hard, shaking off my coat and setting the small bags of items we did manage to buy, on the floor underneath the coat pegs. I wanted to contest that we both did agree to take the day off, but I knew Claire wanted to avoid whatever had been stuck in her head since the mineral exhibit.
I called after her, "Okay, but after dinner, no more work, Claire." I grabbed the small bags and headed up the stairs to set them in the bedroom.
I tossed the bags in the corner of the room by the closet. I hated putting away clothes, let alone new clothes. It was an organizational nightmare for me, especially when I hated buying clothes. I pushed one large bag into one the one from the jewelry store. Glancing in the small black bag with the gold logo of the jewelry store on the side, I saw a square black box with a silver ribbon wrapped around it, resting on the bottom.
A square black ring box. I sucked in a few ragged breaths, my heart pounding at the simple sight of a small box. I shook my head, "Stop jumping to conclusions, Witmer." I reached down and tied the bag closed, dropping it into one of Claire's larger ones that held a small quilt she purchased for her mother.
I grabbed my purple hoody from the edge of the bed and rushed out of the room, closing the door behind me as I jammed my arms into the sleeves. I took in a quick, deep breath, trying to steady my nerves as Claire called up to me, asking what I wanted for dinner.
This was going to be a long night.
Kit sat across from me on the floor, her brow furrowed as she read over the thick file in her hands. She had Benson's CIA file while I had Jessica's resting on my lap. Both of us sat in a tense silence as we read over the unedited version of how the two poor souls fell into Bourne's hands.
I was distracted every third word, looking up at Kit and wanting to ask her if she was okay. She had grown quiet at the last shop, more when she came back downstairs giving me her dinner selection. I knew she was following my lead, picking up on how awkward I became at the museum and then in the shops. I would catch in her eyes the small fear of what I was suggesting when I mentioned the tourmaline stones in a wedding ring. The small panic racing over her eyes, made me think maybe I was thinking far too ahead about everything.
The old woman in the museum had unnerved me when she looked in my eyes and I felt like she could read every one of my thoughts by the way she smiled at me knowingly. I only excused myself to the bathroom to get away from the hard stare of the gentle old woman. There was something about her that made me feel like I had to get away from her, even as she looked like a typical old French grandmother, there was still something about her and the way she asked Kit about me as I walked slowly to the bathrooms, that bothered me and flat out creeped me out.
Then I couldn't resist in the jewelry shop, finding the perfect ring. My way of overcompensating for the sudden tension brought on by my testing the waters and how the old woman made me feel. I ended up buying a ring, one with a square setting, and an oval diamond in the center. It was simple, yet elegant and it reminded me of Kit. The strong straight lines of the square setting surrounding the smaller rounded diamond. It reminded me of how Kit could be unbreakable one minute and then vulnerable the next. But only with me, no one else.
I knew I was going to ask her to marry me, whether it was this weekend or in a few months’ time, I wanted to be prepared and the ring I found, was everything I felt about the strong redhead. The woman who captured my heart, my soul and gave me the clear vision to see what I always wanted, but ignored. A family, a wife, and a love that made all the fighting I had done over the last decade and a half, worth it.
I sighed softly, returning to the boring federally written diatribe in my hands, I would ask Kit over dinner her thoughts on marriage and children. Something I probably should have asked instead of suggesting we read over these files. Falling back on bad habits and I had successfully made things awkward and chilly between us.
I crossed my legs as I sat in the large chair next to the fireplace, another small fire warming up the room and chasing away the chill in the air and between Kit and I.
I ran my hand over my hair, leaning my chin on my palm and returned to reading about Jessica. In the first few words of the next paragraph, it was clear this file was to only be an internal document, passed amongst the inner circle of the Beekeeper project scientists and backers. There was no thick black marker crossing out names or editing out critical pieces of sentences.
How Rebecca and Ivan got their hands on it, I suddenly didn't want to know.
"Ensign Cornwell has been remanded to the care of the Agency's primary research and development physician. Dr. Evelyn Bourne. The USN has approved of this transfer under the guise that Dr. Bourne is a specialist in the field of burn wounds.
Section Chief Cramer has asked that the USN is kept in the dark on what will come next with Ensign Cornwell. He, himself selected Ensign Cornwell based on her prior work with the Agency. (Operation Helix. See file #445-099-KL)
SC Cramer believes in Dr. Bourne's ultimate agenda and has begun to hand pick the next handful of candidates she needs. He also believes that since Ensign Cornwell is familiar with patient codenamed "Honey" it may be beneficial for Dr. Bourne to expand on the symbiotic unity she continues to suggest. That if the patients are familiar with each other, they will bond and possibly increase the genetic mutations she is creating through a new serum she has begun to develop from a stolen formula the failed Malibu attack was able to generate. (See file #723-LL)"
I cringed, knowing that the Malibu attack was my attack, the one that left me on the edge of death. I knew my mainframe had been compromised during the attack. Ivan told me later all that was taken were garbage files I had deleted but not yet encrypted after dumping them. The old serum formula the CIA stole was one that degraded muscle tissue instead of repairing it. An utter failure on my part, one that frustrated me for almost a year before I had a breakthrough that lead me to the crea
tion of my pink serum.
Even as it was a failure, the stolen formula would still give Dr. Bourne a foundation to create her own. I felt my jaw twitch at how ignorant I was to everything back then. How lax I was with my own security. I flipped a page and continued on reading.
"SC Cramer has also asked that patient codenamed "Honey" has all personnel files and attachments to the other patients scrubbed, “Honey" is to be burned now that Dr. Bourne is aware of the connections to the other patients. (See file #KR-3422, file Operation Morocco, and the recruitment files "Honey" generated.) All files will be destroyed after the last patient she has requested, has been handed over to Dr. Bourne."
I read on, swallowing the need to throw up as I read the stale, uncaring words of the CIA. Treating Jessica and her husband like cattle to slaughter. I picked up a pen, scribbling down the file numbers at the bottom of the page I was reading. I grabbed my phone, calling Davidek as Kit looked up at me. I smiled lightly, holding up the page to show her my notes and file numbers.
She furrowed her brow more, glancing back at her page and then back up, holding her hand out for my pen. I handed it over to her as Davidek picked up, "Coming up for air, Bits?" He groaned at his terrible joke, "Never mind I said that, I just grossed myself out. Anyways, what's up?"
I rolled my eyes, "Are you with Rebecca and Ivan?"
"Yes, we are scrubbing the IP addresses for any hiccups before we go hunting again for more information on Benson. We ran his DNA map through all the databases we could, hoping that some of the cold case crimes in the FBI, DEA, CIA, etc. would ping back with more information that could lead us to a possible identity on our boy Alistair." Davidek spoke quickly.
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