KEN
“Watch her,” I instruct Tom before I go back inside and get dressed. It takes me no more than sixty seconds to yank my clothes on. They’re sixty long, furious seconds. I can’t believe Mary. She seems to make things worse for herself almost on purpose. I thought she understood that she was being given a second chance. A last chance. Apparently she understands nothing.
Tom is standing guard outside, still in his pajamas. He pulls me aside before I get into the car.
“I know you’re pissed,” he says. “And you have every right to be, but…”
“I don’t want to hear buts right now,” I growl.
“I know” he says. “And that’s exactly why you need to hear one. She’s a brat.”
“This goes way past bratty.”
“Agreed, but, Ken. She came here. Where she had to know she’d be caught. She ran away to home. She missed us.”
“So? Everybody misses their families. You think we can have a military or secret service where people just sneak off home mid-war because they need some snuggles?”
“She’s been through a lot.”
“I know. I know exactly what she’s been through. And I know exactly what she’s doing. She’s proved a point. We can’t hold her. She can get out whenever she wants. I’ve spent weeks working on this girl and it’s done precisely fuck all.”
I am beyond frustrated. I am angry. Deeply angry, because either I’m going to have to lie to cover for her, or she’s going to likely lose her chance to be rehabilitated at all.
Tom nods and steps back. “Okay,” he says. “Just know. This isn’t your fault. You did your best.”
His words are well intentioned but they just piss me off. This cannot be my best. Having the woman I love sitting in the car crying, waiting for me to take her back to a facility she hates to put her through training which makes me a brutal, cold taskmaster is not the best. I’d say it was the worst, but I know things can always be worse.
“I’m going to take her back, Tom. Don’t wait up.”
I get into the car. She’s sitting next to me quietly and she doesn’t say a word as I start it and get on the road. For about twenty minutes, we drive in silence, heading out of the city. As we get out of the suburbs, she tries one more time.
“We could just go.”
“What?” I snap the question, my eyes never leaving the road.
“You could just drive somewhere inland. We could go and hide in the mountains. We could be together. You could not have to hate me.”
Her voice is so small and so plaintive I almost feel sorry for her. But I can’t. She wants to run away to escape the consequences of her actions. It’s what she always does. She has no idea how to resolve trouble she finds herself in. She doesn’t even seem to understand that it can be done.
“I don’t hate you.”
That’s all I say. For the rest of the journey, we say silent. She can tell I’m taking her back, and I’m not in the mood to discuss the matter. My mind is on the near future, when we’re both going to face the fallout from this little stunt.
* * *
Sure enough, on return I find the place lit up like the Fourth of July. There are armed guards everywhere. The moment we come to a halt inside the gates, they swarm the car and they take Mary into custody. It’s like a zombie movie, except instead of brains, they just want her. She goes quietly, thank god, not that she has much choice considering how many people are on her. Took fewer people to catch Bin Laden.
I’m torn between wanting to kick the ass of everyone who dares lay a hand on her, and feeling a sense of satisfaction that she’s getting the treatment she deserves.
That satisfaction doesn’t last long. I’m next out of the car. And of course, someone wants to see me.
* * *
“How do you explain this, Ares?”
The Head is not pleased. When this woman isn’t pleased, you damn well know it. She’s not a tall woman, but she has a presence which can fill the room. And she’s not a particularly attractive woman by merit physical features alone, but she has a steel about her which makes her unique and in her time she has bought many, many men to their knees.
I’ve been called into her office and I’m standing on a small rug in front of her desk like a damn schoolboy. Her hair is down, because like almost everybody else currently on site, she was called in from sleep to deal with the breach. In other words, Mary.
“Well, ma’am. It would appear that the subject took it upon herself to escape after I had left the premises.”
“She stole a car.”
I clear my throat. “She left it at my home. It is unharmed.”
“Nevertheless, she stole a car.”
“Yes,” I agree. “She did.”
She purses her lips and looks at me. “I’m sorry.”
“Ma’am?” My heart sinks. What is she sorry about? Sorry she’s going to recommend Mary be cancelled out of the program? Maybe trade her to Russia? Or some of the other interested parties?
“You made us aware that she was a high risk inmate, and unfortunately she appears to have been handled in a lax manner in your absence. I know the work you’ve put into her, Ares. This is a setback you didn’t need. I think you should move to on-site quarters until her breaking period is complete.”
I can’t believe it. The Head is apologizing to me. I thought I was going to have to basically beg for Mary’s life.
“You still want her in your program?” I try not to let my shock show, but fail.
“I’m aware of the condition Miss Brown is in,” she says. “I’m also aware of how she came to be in that condition. She has rare qualities, Ares. They make her difficult to handle. I’m sure for many, utterly impossible. But you have formed a rapport and you have demonstrated control over her in a number of ways. We don’t deal with easy people here. We keep the challenges. The drop outs from other units. We keep the people who are too much trouble for others. Because they can do things other don’t - like break out in the middle of the night and take my car.”
“Your car.” Oh fuck. Her car. Of course it had to be her car.
“Yes, Ares. My car. I trust it will be returned in the same condition it left.”
“Yes ma’am, of course.”
“You’re dismissed, Ares. I suggest you go make it abundantly clear how unacceptable this evening’s activities were.” Her eyes twinkle. “By any means necessary.”
Holy hell.
I have a newfound respect for the Head. I don’t know her well, and that’s by design. Nobody does. But she’s the kind of woman who can provide a space for me to actually deal with Mary, and not throw her out because she’s trouble. I appreciate that more than I can say.
“Oh, and Ares?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“When you’re finished with her, send her to me.”