Page 102 of Pride, Prejudice, & Pretense

On a whim, Lizzy convinced her doctor and Charlie to let her go with her two agents to the children's ward on Halloween. She helped the nurses distribute candy and arrange a small costume party for the children who could participate. It gave her something to do, and it also touched a part of her.

She had always enjoyed children but had never considered having any. Working for the Agency made becoming a mother unlikely, given her almost non-existent dating life. And the danger to which she was routinely exposed made it imprudent, even if she had a prospect to father them.

Fitzwilliam and her resignation had changed all that. For the first time in her life, Lizzy interacted with children while actively imagining that someday she might be a mother.

The problem was that she had no clue where the father she imagined for them might be. No one had heard anything from Fitzwilliam. Charlie promised her he would tell her if Fitzwilliam contacted him, but Fitzwilliam had not. Every day, she hoped the mail might bring her something, but it did not. She was deeply worried about him, frightened for him.

It had taken a few days for her head to clear, to think straight and know she was thinking straight, and it finally occurred to her that if her cover had been compromised, it was almost certain that Fitzwilliam’s had been, too.No more Ned.She was unsure what he was planning, but another undercover ploy to get the Wicker Man seemed impossible.

The final Wicker Man agent, the one at whom Karen had shot when she first found Lizzy, was never found. No one reported a body. Charlie assumed he had managed to escape. Unfortunately, Frank Northup’s interrogation had not been completed when he died, so the name of the last team member who had been on the mountain that night remained unknown.

With Lizzy's discharge pending, Charlie made arrangements through the Agency for them to fly back to D.C. Other agents in Chicago broke down Fanny's apartment?no more Fanny?as well as the apartment across the street that Fitzwilliam and Charlie had used.

Her final mission was finished.

On the first day of November, Dr. Williams told her that she would be released the next day with a clean bill of health. Her ribs were still sore but manageable, her blistered feet were healed. All the tests from the rape kit had finally come back negative.

"You look rested—or well on your way to rested," Dr. Williams told her during their final visit before Lizzy was to be discharged. She was standing by the bed, chart tucked under her arm, staring above her reading glasses. "I hope you don't mind, but I was talking to Charlie—Agent Bingley—and he told me that you’ve resigned. Is that all there is to it? You're done? Walk away?"

"No, not all. I am done, but I have to go back to Langley. There are exit interviews and training sessions. When your work has been all or mostly deep cover, it's not easy to construct a normal resume. Or resume a normal life. So there's a retirement class, as it’s called, and exit interviews, NDAs."

"Oh, non-disclosure agreements? Right, I guess I can see how those would be necessary. So you retire from your past with almost no evidence of your past?"

Lizzy shrugged carefully, protecting her ribs. "Lizzy Bennet, the real me, only existed now and then since I joined the Company. Like a strobe light."

Dr. Williams looked at her steadily. "Speaking of that, you’d told me that too-blonde hair of yours was necessary for your last mission. You might feel better going back to being a brunette again."

Lizzy hadn't thought about it. She had been blonde for long enough that seeing the color was no longer any shock. But Dr. Williams was right; she missed seeing her own hair in the mirror.

"It'll be good to be me again…if I can remember how."

"That's the great thing about being yourself. You do it simply by not pretending to be anyone else."

Lizzy fixed her eyes on the doctor. "Simply?"

Dr. Williams pushed her glasses up, although she continued to look over them, and she smiled wistfully. "Well, call that word choice the triumph of hope over experience."

***

Tuesday, November 3

There had still been no news of Fitzwilliam when Lizzy and Charlie left the hospital to go to the airport.

In conversations with Charlie, Kellynch had offered to provide the plane for them. Lizzy had not talked to the director since she’d told him she was resigning. She suspected he was hoping to ingratiate himself before she returned and perhaps inspire her to a feeling of indebtedness. Lizzy, still tired, still a little sore, was glad to be saved from the effort of a commercial flight, but she felt no twinge of remorse or irresolution.

The only regret she felt was leaving Karen behind at the hospital. At least Karen seemed to be doing well. She had begun physical therapy and was able to hold Ricky for short periods so long as he was not too squirmy. She made Lizzy promise to get into contact as soon as she had finished in D.C. and settled somewhere.

But that was the problem. Beyond Langley, Lizzy still had no idea what her future held or where it might occur. She began to realize that her first post-D.C. destination likely would be Rochester, her childhood home.

She had talked to her mother briefly the day after her first visit to Karen's room. She hadn’t told her mother any of what happened, only saying that she was still traveling for work and had not been feeling well. Characteristically, Mrs. Bennet had minimized it. "Well, you know no one dies of a cold, Lizzy. You're probably just working too hard, like always. I don't understand why you do it. You've looked tired for years. It's no wonder you've never found a man. Hard to bag a man with bags under your eyes."

Lizzy had let the last comment go, but the one before it caught her attention. "Tired, Mom? I looked tired? Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I tried, but sometimes you are like your father. You tune me out. Ihavementioned it to you."

As Lizzy thought about it, she realized that it was true. Her motherhadmentioned it to her repeatedly almost every time they saw each other in person. Lizzy had always ignored it, taking it as more of her mother's general complaining, trying to get her daughter invested in her own perpetual hypochondria. But now Lizzy knew it was true; her mother had been right.

Burning the candle at both ends. It was easier when you were not sure which end was real and which end was fake, which was you and which was a cover. Light both and let them burn away.

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