The Heart Stoppers

THE SHORTCOMINGS OF HEROISM

"And now from the most prestigious and upheld mission of the year, Agent 1942 and Agent 333." Zack and I move onto the stage of the Quarterly. "They have exhibited great strength, intelligence, and honor in their duties. More than many agents ever present. We are truly grateful for these two."

Buchanan gives us the rings, both holding the face of an alien: Zack's white with black eyes, and mine gold with small diamonds for eyes. "Thought these would be fitting," he whispers to us as he places them on our pointer finger on the right hand.

I haven't earned too many Honor Rings like this; they are uncommon. Most agents only receive two or three throughout their AFO career. But in situations when agents are faced with tragedy or extreme conflict, and they hold their honor in the AFO, really anything to make these people proud, they receive an Honor Ring. I have four now: one from earning my Full House Award by going through each branch of the AFO: Club, Diamond, Heart, and Spade, one for the breakthrough of graphene skin, one for defeating Peter Saige--or so we thought, and now this one, for defeating his gang again.

Then, Zack and I go to sit at our classic back table with the boys. Zack seems to be gathering the bubbliness of the tipsy boys surrounding us as they laugh and giggle and make more puns than necessary.

"And now for everyone's least favorite part of the night," Buchanan attempts a joke on the stage which is followed with laughter. "The annual rerankings."

So he goes on for forty-five minutes listing agent numbers and their new places on our scale before he gets to an important one.

"And our new ninety-nine, Agent 1942," Buchanan announces with eyes on Zack.

The boys at our table cheer excitedly like their football team just got the winning touchdown, standing up to bump chests and spill their liquor filled glasses as they do so, yelling and screaming and cheering all the while. I smile in pride at Zack who can't wipe the grin off his face in excitement and astonishment. Hartle passes Zack the bottle of champagne, still shouting wildly, and I stand to snatch it from him, rolling my eyes and repeatedly tell him no.

As I sit back down, I place a hand on Zack's shoulder, "I'm proud of you."

He thanks me, a sweet smile appearing on his lips as he hears the sincerity in my voice. And Buchanan continues to rattle off the rankings and agent numbers.

The other three boys around me don't change in their rankings; they haven't changed in years, like me. And we're almost finished now.

"And number four, Agent 252," he says.

"What the fuck?" I whisper to myself. It's not... It's not me. I've been number four for ten years, hell fifteen. And 252, that's not me.

"Number three, Agent 369." That's Freeman; he's stayed the same.

"Number two, Agent 284." Johns. Johns is number two. Johns has been number one since 1995. And now he's number two. What the fuck is this?

"And our number one agent of 2011, Agent 333," he finishes.

"What. The. Fuck," I gasp, shocked.

My whole table is yelling louder than ever, with shit tons more excitement, with pride. Freeman's eyes meet mine from across the chaos of the room, a relieving smile gracing his face. The commotion of the room still has not died down as Buchanan dismisses the agents to the drinking portion of the evening: whether for celebration or mourning. The ballroom clears out quickly as people hurriedly rush to the alcohol, but before I can hit the bar, I make my way to Gale who is walking toward me.

"Congratulations, Hayden. You've deserved this for some time now," he says as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"Thank you, Freeman. Number three isn't so bad either," I smirk at him, making the first move and pulling him closer to me by his jacket.

"I'm in love with you," he whispers to me in the nearly empty banquet room.

"I know," I murmur as I make his lips meet mine.

But our rekindled love is cut short by Zack yelling from across the vast room, "Hayden! Tigger's kitty door has been open for hour--oh."

I pull apart from Freeman, who looks at me in awe and pure joy. I haven't seen him this truly happy in so many years.

"What, Zack?" I ask, eyes not leaving Freeman's.

"Tigger's door. It's uh been open for two hours or so now. I think something's up," he admits. "I got the alert on my phone."

After Saige had broken into our house and put the note on Tigger, Freeman had set up multiple sensors that alert us when any door or window in the house opens. And now Tigger's cat door had been open for hours.

I nod my head. "I'll be right back," I kiss his lips one last time before following Zack to occur.

"I love you, Hayden Alice Rain!" he yells after me.

"And I love you, Freeman."