Confidential [ON HOLD]

12. The Miserables

"Do you really have to see your boyfriend?" Benjamin asked C.J when they were finally parked in front of the café C.J had wanted to go to. "Can't you just call him?"

Streaks of sunlight escaped through the early morning fog. It was still foggier and colder when they reached Quantico the next day. As decided, Benjamin and C.J had driven to the FBI Academy that day and C.J had finally handed in her leave application. Not that it would matter whether or not she was granted a leave—she'd have no choice but to take one.

Quantico wasn't a town known for its civilians, but some still managed to be out for a run in the empty streets. Marines and FBI recruits would usually be having breakfast by the time civilians decided to go out for a jog.

C.J took the seat belt off and reached for the door, "No, I can't call him," she said, mockingly. "And for the last time: he's not my boyfriend."

Benjamin rolled his eyes, but watched her as she stepped out. He lowered her side of the window, "I would still prefer it if I could come with—"

She turned around and lifted her shirt just enough to show him the gun holster that she had picked up from her apartment. Benjamin didn't reply, only nodding in response, he slid the window up and pressed on the pedal and drove away.

Straightening her clothes, C.J moved to the glass door of the café and pushed it open. Technically, it wasn't a 'café'; it was by brand, a bar. Famously, a 'Marine Corps bar', but most people didn't like going to bars before sunrise and so, the local bar was often referred to as a café.

C.J knew most of the people from the Quantico base. Out of the few people that were here, she recognized some from the Marine base. Small lamps hung over the tables and booths and counters of the bar-café. The few in the space weren't talking. There was complete silence besides the occasional rustle of paper or clatter of plates and steel.

He didn't tell her where she would find him, but he told her what he'd be ordering and as soon as she saw the two tall glasses of something green being placed on the table at the back, she discreetly made her way to the dimly-lit booth.

"Well, I'm happy to see that you're not dead," the unusual light-skeptic tone of Soren Thierry said, eyes not lifting from the book in his hands. "—Yet."

C.J made an unappreciative face at the tall glass of green, Soren pushed towards her when she was finally sat in the booth. A black military jacket zipped to the neck hid the silver chain that held his dog tags. His Marine haircut had grown just half an inch longer than it should've been and Soren seemed to be aware of it. He laid his book on the table and leaned back in his seat, gesturing to the glass.

"A Greene novel? I thought you were done with all his books," she turned the book towards her by her finger and read the title aloud. "You know, Thierry, I'm surprised you haven't read this yet. I finished this—"

Soren held up a finger, "I'm halfway through. Don't ruin it." A few seconds passed when both of them were silent. When Soren was finally sure that no one was listening in, or close to hearing what he was about to say, he spoke: "The Quantico base gossip travel is much faster, you know. I found out that you and a certain ex-FBI—now Blind Spot agent—arrived at about five-thirty in the morning."

"Don't look at me like that," she said defensively in a hushed voice. "I didn't come with a parade. I came as discreetly as anyone entering a town could. I'm not the one who's falling behind—"

Soren glared at her, "You are not the one that's falling behind, Meyer, however is catching up. You need to learn to be careful, C.J. Did you hear what happened to Steve—?"

"Stevens?" she asked, rolling the glass around in between her hands. "I know. Did she come by or was there something else you were so eager to tell me?"—her voice caught as she immediately leaned forward, her forehead creasing in confusion and worry—"You're not being deployed now, are you?"