She stepped out of the shipping container and was submerged immediately in explosions of light, the ticking of flash bulbs almost drowning out a voice that ceremoniously called out her name. Dark silhouettes were on both sides, lining the narrow aisle between containers. More flashes of light, blinding her. It all happened too fast that she had no time to worry about messed-up hair, the bed marks crumpled onto her face, or the flush in her cheeks from the most amazing orgasm of her life. She was sweating, still, her legs shaking slightly as they strained to work, to hold her up as she walked unsteadily toward the refracted lights of what appeared to be a camera crew. Boom mics and tripods and wires everywhere. Men in uniform, watching.

“Macy,” they called. “Macy Chandler.”

She suddenly felt panicked without him. She turned around, looking for her man, finding him right behind her, his hands gripping onto her shoulder. His calm voice: “It’s okay. You’re okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

“What?” She stopped, turning to face him again as the flash bulbs lit up his beautiful face. His cheeks still crimson with her love, his glow just like hers. A smile—thank God—that relaxed her. With him she felt more relaxed, but still utterly confused. “What is this?”

More yelling behind her, men calling her name. Questions she couldn’t make out.

Tucker’s eyes were still locked on hers. “Should I tell them to take a hike?

“Who? Who are they?!”

“Macy?” came a voice behind her, louder and more distinct than the others. She turned to see a man in military uniform staring at her. “Macy Chandler, welcome to international waters.”

She didn’t know what to say, or feel, or think, or do. She finally said, “Why?”

And it got a roaring laugh from the crowd.

Tucker waved some of the cameras away. “Can we give her a little room, please?”

“Can we have her step up to the mic?” one of the reporters asked, pointing to a temporary stage. The backdrop looked to be a wall of containers. A perfect photo op, Macy realized.

The man in the uniform smiled at her. “Could you follow me, please?”

“It’s okay,” Tucker said.

“What is it?”

“A press conference,” Tucker said. “At least, that’s what I think it is.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” Uniform said, guiding Macy up the stairs. “And there’s someone up here that wants to meet you.”

The flood lights turned on, and standing atop the stage was a woman in a dark-blue dress. Her hair and makeup looked like a Hollywood production, the results of a team and of multiple laborious hours. Looking at her, Macy felt like she was staring at a foreign species.

“Hi,” the woman said with a smile. Bright white teeth against the glare. “I’m Audrey Adams.”

“Secretary of State, Audrey Adams?”

She nodded, shaking Macy’s hand.

“I’m not exactly up to date with our new government,” Macy said. “I’ve only heard about you.”

“I’ve definitely heard about you,” Audrey said. “We had to keep it a secret during the campaign. But absolving people like you is one of our highest priorities. Agents in your situation that have been so poorly mistreated. It’s horrific. It’s criminal.”

Macy was inclined to distrust her, a reflex learned from too many broken promises—especially the slippery promises of politicians. There had been far too many of those. So here, for Aubrey, and for the cameras, she would stay polite, civil, and she would welcome the help. But she’d keep her guard up. It was exhausting. She’d had it up for so long, a fortification against the outside world—and especially against her own government. It was such a standard fixture that she surprised herself at the sudden weakening of her guard. It happened in the warmth of Audrey’s smile. Or was it Tucker’s hand touching lightly against her lower back, calming, reaffirming? She had learned by now that his touch could do wonders. But could it restore her faith in humanity?

Audrey and the United States had some work to do.

“And we need to tell these stories,” Audrey said into the microphone, continuing her little speech. “Macy’s story, and the stories of all other Americans that have suffered for so long at the hands of a crooked and corrupt administration.”

Two minutes ago, Macy was naked and sweaty with sex, well on her way to her second orgasm. Now she was up in front of the lights and the cameras and the professional smiles of politicians. She couldn’t believe it.

Was she on TV, too?

“Is this live?” Macy whispered off-stage to the uniformed man. And then the sound of her name again from Audrey drew her attention back to the speech.

“For too long,” Audrey said, “for four years too long, this brave American has received zero support, zero news coverage, zero humanity. She was a nobody, a shadow, a victim like so many of the previous administration. I am here today, at the behest of our new president, to officially welcome Macy Chandler out of the shadows, and back into the light of the United Sates.”

She felt dizzy.

“As part of our president’s ongoing commitment to right these wrongs, we stand here today to apologize, and to begin, together, the long and hard process of her recovery.”

With every word of it, Macy’s knees felt weakened.

Aubrey turned to her. “I know it’s been quite the whirlwind, including this surprise here, but, well, what do you say, Macy? Any words for us?”

She couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped her lips, or the camera flashes popping off in a strobing frenzy. Voices from the behind the glare poured in, overwhelming her: “Macy? Any comment? Anything for the public?”

She shrugged. “No.”

Another wave of strobe lights and excited chattering. Macy turned around, expecting to see Tucker. But he was gone.

“She might not have anything to say today,” Audrey said. “But we still do. The president will be remain outspoken on this issue, and will remain diligent, because the job is not yet done. In order to assist the other the victims, American heroes just like Macy Chandler, the president has assigned a special task force of agents and prosecutors on the case.” Audrey paused to reach over for Macy’s hand, holding it loosely and saying to the cameras, “We will put a stop to this.”

Despite the cameras, and the roaring crowd, Macy had looked away again, off-stage, for Tucker, eventually finding him standing among the crowd below. He was staring up at her, clapping furiously. He mouthed something that Macy couldn’t understand. And then he smiled.