Lies are a Spy's Best Friend

Chapter 2: Going Back

I was beginning to fidget. We had flown out of the mountains the day before, but the flight from Colorado to Virginia wouldn't have been possible in the mid-range heli Dad had borrowed from his friend. Once we returned the helicopter we boarded a red-eye to D.C. where we grabbed a rental car from the airport. We had been in the rental car for about an hour, and while the long drive was perfect for thinking, it was starting to sink in that this would be my last year at Gallagher. I'd be a graduate soon, and I needed to think about and plan for life after school. Thus the fidgeting.

I hate fidgeting.  I absolutely loathe it. It's a horrible tell for a spy, and I'm usually very good at preventing myself from doing it. I almost broke myself of the habit when I started CoveOps training my sophomore year but, obviously, I wasn't completely successful.

Apparently, trying to break yourself of a nervous habit during the most stressful academic year of your young life is not ideal. 

When I'm focused and on a mission it's never been a problem, but put me in an enclosed space with someone I trust for an extended period of time? Leave me to my own thoughts? Utter disaster.

Dad looked over at me while we were at a standstill in traffic and saw me bouncing, so he turned down the 90's hits playing on the radio but didn't say anything. I continued to stare out my window while he just sat and waited, knowing I'd start talking when I pulled my thoughts together.

"What if I'm not ready to be a spy?" I whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. "What if I'm not good enough?"

He didn't say anything and after two long minutes of nothing, I turned my body to look at him. I expected an answer from him. I expected him to say I'm right, and that I was definitely not ready to be a spy. I did not expect him to be laughing at me.

That's right, he was sitting there laughing at me. He was laughing so hard he wasn't even making any noise!

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped for a brief moment before I schooled my facial features like I'd been taught and looked back out my window. I couldn't believe he was actually laughing at me. I mean, maybe I wasn't the best spy in the world but I thought I'd probably make out alright; for a few years at least. I would never be as good as my parents, or even my grandparents for that matter but nobody was that good. Those spies are typically few and far between, but lucky me had an entire family tree full of them. If it's genetic, I'm pretty sure the gene skipped my generation.

So I didn't have the "super-spy" gene everyone else I'm related to had. No big deal. I don't have to be a super-spy, I could just be a good spy, right? Wrong. When you come from a long line of the CIA's best, everyone and their mother thinks that you're destined to be the next James Bond. It's impossible to live up to their expectations.

Dad finally saw that I noticed his laughter and refused to look at him, and his silent laughter turned into a low chuckle before he finally answered me. "Mads," he started, "nobody is ever truly ready to be a spy. Nobody is ever good enough."

"That's not true! You and Mom were, you were both better than good enough!" I argued.

"Oh Mads, no. No, we weren't. Your mom and I were thrust into this world before either of us were ready. Neither one of us was able to finish training before our first, albeit unsanctioned, mission. We were nowhere near good enough, and the only reason we succeeded was because of all the help we had. So much help. Sweetie, we're still playing catch up. The life of a spy is one of constant observation and learning. You will never know everything you need to, especially when you're just beginning. Your mother and I have been at this for over two decades now and we still don't feel that we're good enough."