Inner Demons

17

Emily walks back into the room, her lips pursed.

"I want to stress that this decision has been a long time coming, and had nothing to do with you.  I was offered a position as the head of the London office of Interpol, and I'm going to take it."
"Emily that's incredible, congratulations."
"I have contacts that can set you up with a new identity. We can shut down your accounts and remove your money so you have access to it. I'll get you to London safely."
"Thank you, really. I'm so sorry Emily, for everything. I know I lied about a lot, but I really did love-"
"Katya, don't. Thank you for what you did for JJ, but I don't want to hear it. I'll protect you for as long as you choose to stay in London, but it's not for you. JJ and Penelope seem to think you still deserve it. I don't agree."
"I understand."
"We're leaving now. I'll take you through the back."
"Can I say goodbye?"
"No." She walks out, not making eye contact with me. I follow quietly.

On the walk to the jet, I contemplate my decisions from the past few months. Letting myself fall for Emily was beyond stupid. I know better. Sex appeal only works as a tool for short missions. Despite my hatred for The Organization, I almost feel bad for letting them down. All the time they spent teaching me to be the perfect agent- unfeeling, precise, ruthless- cut to shit by an American. How the mighty have fallen. My mind flashes to Vanya. If she's alive, I can't even image what they'll do to her. Knowing the head of an Interpol office might be my best chance to find her, but Emily hates me. That hurts almost as badly as the knowledge I may never see my sister again.

As we walk through the parking lot, two men jump out of a black van. They rush towards us, drawing guns and shouting in Russian.
"It's them," I gasp as Emily turns around. She grabs my arm and hugs me against her chest, pulling out her gun and shooting with her free hand. They fall to the floor before they get a chance to shoot, Emily's aim precise even under pressure. We stand pressed together for a moment, her breathing ragged. We make eye contact and she steps away, brushing off her chest as she holsters her gun.
"Thank you," I begin.
"I'm just doing my job." She says bluntly, turning back and walking quickly towards the tarmac. I stand there in awe- both of how quickly they got to me and how quickly she defended me.
"Let's go," she calls without looking back.

She stands up as our plane touches down in London, stretching to reveal her toned stomach. I can't help but think of the rest of her, of what used to be mine. Fuck. We get off the plane to a waiting car. She climbs in to the driver's side, and I follow suit on the passenger side. We drive in tense silence, her fingers drumming the wheel. We reach a small neighborhood, where she parks on the side of the street. She hands me a set of keys and points across the street to a brick townhouse identical to the one we're parked in front of.
"That one's your's. I'll be across the street here, keeping an eye out. Interpol has been trying to crack The Organization for years now. That's the only reason we will be in such close proximity. I intend to lead entirely separate lives. If The Organization reaches out to you in any way, you are to tell me immediately. All your papers should be waiting for you inside. Have a nice life, Katya." Without waiting for a response, she exits the car and walks inside. I get out slowly and walk up to my door. I turn the key in the lock, pushing the door open. It's cold and dark inside, but it will do. I desperately want to talk to her, to tell her all the feelings I've never been able to tell anyone. She knows who I am now, and she's made it clear she's not interested. I need a drink.

I walk into a bar a few streets over and sit down, ordering a rum and coke. I've settled on using a british accent, hoping to assimilate faster. Noticing the "help wanted" sign, I request an application. I nurse my drink as I fill it out, turning it in and asking for a refill.
"Can you make a drink?" The sullen bartender asks.
"I suppose," I reply.
"Great, you're hired. Be here at 12:00 tomorrow."
"Thanks," I say, astounded by the exchange.
"It'll be nice to have a change of pace around here," a woman says from down the bar, moving closer. "Old Benjamin here is far from easy on the eyes."
The man grunts and passively flips her off as he rinses a glass.
"I take it you're here often?" I ask, engaging her.
"I wouldn't say often, but that might change. I'm Eleanor."
"Eleanor. Pleasure to meet you, I'm Katherine, Kate if you like."
"Pleasure to meet you Kate. Are you new here?"
"Yes, I've only been in the city a few hours."
"Well if you ever want a tour, let me know. I work for the Interpol office in London so I'm downtown often."
She works for Interpol, fascinating. Couldn't hurt to keep her around.
"Interpol, eh? Tell me more." I say, resting my chin in my hand as if I'm in awe. It feels good to play my game again, even though I'm not sure of my goal. A distraction is exactly what I need, and I have a feeling Eleanor will do.