CHAPTER 25 #2
"Calvaire, sérieusement? (You've got to be kidding me)." Ellen looked up and watched Roxy. The vibration terrified her, growing stronger the longer they ignored it. "I guess you have to answer it?"
Roxy swallowed hard and breathless. Ellen rolled slowly onto her side, her chest rising and falling. Roxy got up and took the phone out of her purse as if it were cursed.
Because, to be fair, it was.
Ellen stepped away from Roxy to give her space to look at the phone, and wiped the corner of her eye as if she already knew she was going to be abandoned once again.
Roxy looked at her phone, and at that moment, her face completely fell with dismay and distress.
London Operational Centre - 8:58 PM GHOST PROTOCOL ACTIVATED. Report to the station within the next ninety minutes. Instructions will be provided on site. All external communications must be ceased and are prohibited until further notice.
Roxy panicked as her throat tightened, and her legs went limp like never before in her life.
"No, no, no, no..." Roxy whispered, "I thought I could do it. I really believed... FUCK." She had to become Roxanne Powell again, the MI6 spy.
The one who wasn't allowed to be happy with Ellen, or even Charles.
The one who'd stolen her friendship with Meredith.
The one who'd been created by Roxy and the Service.
The one who should never have given herself that right.
And Ellen? She stood frozen, her lips parted, her body still trembling from the previous moment. She looked at Roxy as if she had just seen a ghost—or a demon.
"Roxy… Did I do something...?" She tilted her head slightly as she asked, completely bewildered.
Ellen stared at the phone in Roxy's hands, and her confusion undoubtedly stemmed from the importance Roxy attached to that phone.
"No. It's not you. It's me. SHIT. I really shouldn't have..."
Roxy couldn't finish her sentence. She couldn't even look Ellen in the eye, knowing full well she deserved that much consideration.
But Roxy was ashamed. Her every desire to speak was thwarted, evaporating just as it reached the threshold of her mouth.
They were both trapped in this mess that Roxy had created all by herself.
Roxy grabbed everything—her bag, her coat, and the fragments of her dignity she could still find. Ellen watched her, still half-undressed, still open, still here. And as if it had become a nasty habit, Roxy wasn't able to meet Ellen's eyes.
"I'm sorry, Ellen," she whispered, "I'm so fucking sorry."
Roxy pushed through the door and into the street, but there was nowhere to run from what she had just done.
Bonnie's words continued to replay in her mind, accompanied by the sickening understanding she was, unfortunately, correct. Roxy'd been fooling herself, thinking she could live in both worlds, and now she hurt the one person she was supposed to protect.
***
An hour and thirty-eight minutes later, Agent Roxanne Powell found herself in a hangar at RAAF Base Richmond. She still knew nothing about her assignment, except that the next step was to board a British Royal Air Force aircraft for an undisclosed location.
Everything happened so quickly from the moment she received the text message announcing the activation of a "Ghost Protocol." The drive from Ellen's home was a blur. She couldn't say which streets she had taken or which lights she had run. Maybe she ran a red light. Total blackout.
Before she could even process what just happened with Ellen, she was by the Airbnb door.
She traded her clothes for a black tactical suit, which featured a cleaned gun prominently displayed, grabbed her pre-packed emergency bag and stuffed two more firearms, four of her passports, and a thick wad of cash from her safe.
Ten minutes inside and she was out.
As she stood waiting for boarding instructions, she had time to think. Perhaps even too much time.
How long would the Ghost Protocol last?
Where were they going to send her?
Bangkok?
Hong Kong?
Berlin?
Tehran?
Every choice was more frightening than the previous one.
Roxy finally kissed Ellen and touched her. She had allowed her to see her as she really was. And worse, she still wanted her. Perhaps even more so now than before she had caught a glimpse.
"Roxy, what did you just do?" she muttered to herself, her voice sounding rough.
Roxy could now only hope for a quick, precise intervention so she could go back to Ellen and explain. Surely, forty-eight to seventy-two hours won't be enough to jeopardize the relationship, right? Yes, she posed the question, already possessing awareness of its response.
And at that moment, Roxy hated herself. Her body still remembered her. The heat. The thrill. The way she had moaned into Ellen's mouth without even meaning to. The way her own hips moved. The way Ellen's fingers… Fuck.
Now, everything was much too calm, but active at the same time. She moved like a soldier during a deployment, ready for orders.
Roxy had survived operations that never made it to the records, lived through assassinations, extractions, and betrayals. Yet, surviving the loss of 'Prodigy' was beyond her capabilities.
Suddenly, Roxy realized the obvious: she didn't want to be Roxanne Powell anymore.
Thing is, it was too late. A distant voice called out to her: "Agent Powell, we're ready to proceed."
A faltering sense of duty propelled Agent Roxanne Powell forward as she started moving forward on instinct and resumed that pathetic role, brazenly lying she was still in control.
But that wasn't the case. Not anymore.