I should have known, though, that it wouldn't be that easy.
After I've released Lucy's head from under my hands, I half-pull, half-yell at her to get into bed with me, her hips and legs between mine, her head on my shoulder. She pulls the sheet and blanket over us. I stroke her hair and lean my cheek against her forehead.
After a few minutes of silence and warmth, I use my free hand to find the call button and press it. Almost immediately, a different nurse comes in. A male this time. He doesn't look surprised to see us snuggling, just asks what we need.
"I'm ready to speak with Mrs Smith now, if she's available," I say in my most professional voice. He nods and disappears.
"What was it like, getting deprogrammed?" I ask Lucy while we wait. She's quiet for a long time.
"I don't want to talk about that, to be honest," she says finally. I kiss her forehead. I'm sympathetic. Having been under the relatively benign control of Rowan, via the Loop, I can understand not wanting to think about having been mind-controlled to be a sex slave and then having to face that slavery once you're free. I can also understand wanting to take advantage of finally being able to keep some things to yourself.
By the time Rowan comes into the room, Lucy's fallen asleep. I've been enjoying listening to her breathing but too full of thoughts, myself, to do anything but sit and worry.
Rowan looks fine, well-rested. She's wearing a suit and her hair is up in a bun rather than the braid I've come to expect.
She smiles at me. I smile back. Whatever happens next, I feel we've come to a personal understanding of each other. What happens next won't be personal, though, but professional.
"I'm going to guess you rescued Ben while I was incapacitated," I say. Lucy wakes at the sound of my voice, looks at Rowan before snuggling in a little more and closing her eyes again.
Rowan nods, says, "My office contacted their office and did the whole bureaucratic, 'We won't tell Congress that your men were running a mind-controlled sex slave ring right under your noses if you return one of our men to us' negotiation."
"That's a common negotiation strategy?"
"Yep. And I've got another common negotiation strategy for you."
"The same one they used to rope you in, I'm guessing."
Her eyes widen slightly but her smile turns into a grin.
"Smart woman," she says, "The FBI could use more smart women like you."
"What's the FBI pay rate for smart women these days?"
"About seven-tenths of the going rate for smart men. Less if you're black or latino."
"Sounds kinda racist and sexist."
"Maybe we need more smart women of color in the FBI to change things from within."
"Maybe we need more smart women of color coming in and shooting things up."
"Maybe," she says, nodding her head.
"Let me guess the terms," I say, "All my past sins are forgiven, as long as I promise to continue to sin on behalf of my government. Benefits include a new name, a new home, health coverage for myself and my spouse, and a cat."
"A cat?"
"Lucy needs a cat."
"I see."
"And we need to be relocated to state that recognizes same-sex marriage."
"No you don't," she says. I arch an eyebrow. "Just have a destination wedding at the state of your choice and the federal government will recognize it," she explains.
"Fuck that. What if I end up at a hospital and they don't let Lucy in to see me because we're in a state that doesn't recognize the certificate?"
"What's your preference, if you end up on life support?" Lucy murmurs.
"Pull the plug," I say.
"You don't get a choice in relocation," Rowan says, trying to regain control of the conversation, "But I have a choice in who I work with. You're with me on the next assignment."
"I haven't even said yes yet," I protest.
"Say yes," Lucy whispers.
"Fuck you and fuck Rowan and fuck the Loop," I explode. I'm not ready to give in to the fact that I've been roped into working for the FBI, even though I saw it coming.
Rowan clears her throat before saying, "About the Loop -- part of the reason I had them keep you knocked out for so long was to give the Loop a chance to wear off. If you take the FBI's offer, it'll be of your own free will."
"There's no such thing as free will," I growl, but I feel less angry, more grateful and, I realize, I feel more loyal to Rowan.
"What's your next assignment," I ask.
"I can't tell you until you've accepted the offer," Rowan replies, looking hopeful.
"Fine. Give us time for our destination wedding thing."
"No."
"What? Come on, Rowan! Ugh!" I look around for something to throw and spy the paperbacks. I throw book after book in Rowan's general direction. Lucy's laughing. Rowan just takes two steps to her left and continues to stand, calm, cool, and collected.
"Like I said, I'm using the same negotiation strategy on you that they used on me."
"I need to see it all on paper," I grumble.
Rowan pulls a smart phone out of her suit pocket and thumbs at it for a moment. A young, male aide appears, hands her two folders, and disappears back into the hall. Rowan moves forward to hand me one of them, the thicker one.
"Standard legalese; basically says, 'work for us on our terms or you're totally fucked.'"
I leaf through the papers, say, "Yeah, whatever. I just want to know what the actual terms are so I can plan ahead."
Rowan snickers. I look up at her, confused for a moment, before smiling at the irony, myself.
"Today is Wednesday," she says, "Debriefing on the current assignment is set for Monday." She hands me the second, slimmer folder. "Top secret. Don't share with Lucy, or her cat, once she gets one. Between now and Monday office staff will contact you about relocation. A moving company has been hired to retrieve your belongings from your apartment. Don't go back there, yourself. We haven't quite finished our typical negotiation strategy with the local law enforcement agencies."
She stands there another moment. Our eyes meet. It's the first time I can admit to myself that I want her as my alpha, as my boss. I want to work not just with her but for her; she's obviously someone I can learn from.
I clear my throat and ask, "How are the kids?"
"Still totally freaked out," Rowan admits, "Though the average person wouldn't know it. Right now they're helping Ben start packing our stuff." She pauses before adding, "I can't wait to get out of that house and leave all that country decor behind."
"Wait," I say, "The rustic farmhouse look was part of your cover?"
"I was deep undercover, sweetie," she drawls, looking amused.
"Oh, thank God," I say, "I didn't think I could work for--"
"What do you have against country decor?" Lucy interrupts.
"Did you just interrupt me, cunt?" I ask, disbelieving.
"Did you just call her 'cunt?'" Rowan asks.
We all glare at each other in silence. The knock at the door seems impossibly loud. It makes Lucy jump.
"Enter," Rowan says, her eyes still narrowed on mine. I simultaneously want to explain myself and tell her to fuck out of my private life.
"Sorry to interrupt," the male nurse says, "But I need to check the IV and the meds."
Rowan breaks eye contact to nod at the nurse. She moves toward the door saying, "We'll talk about this later. I'll see you on Monday."
The nurse does his thing then disappears. The pain meds do their thing. I do my thing: brain slowing down, eyelids heavy. The last thing I hear is Lucy whispering, "I am your cunt, your toy, your slave. I love you, Rebecca." And I'm pretty sure it's her words, not the drugs, that make me happy.
-- The End --
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