Page 10 of Welcome to the Friendzone

Until she saw a shimmer of red. A shimmer she couldn’t ignore.

Marta knelt down to look at what had caught her eye. It was the gaps between the beige-colored parquet. Although the clean-up team had done their best to get rid of the blood particles, some of them had gathered in between the gaps in the wood, staining it a slightly pinkish color. Nothing that would make it necessary to change the entire flooring but enough to catapult Marta back to the nightmare of last Christmas.

“No. No. No. No.”

She was panting, every blink of her eyelashes bringing back the picture of dead Frank lying in front of her knees.

The blood, his lifeless gray eyes, the shocked look on his face, and then she felt the pain again. The searing, hot, burning pain of the gunshots that entered her body. Pushing through tissue, muscle, and bone. Leaving a crust of ashes and stains of blood. All of it was happening again.

Right here. Right now.

Marta began to cry again. Her tears slipped down her face and onto her shirt. She was sobbing, her body shaking uncontrollably. There it was. The mental breakdown.

Suddenly, a large hand appeared on the upper part of her back making her shrink back while she tried to defend herself. She tried to kick and beat the intruder, scared that the mafia found her again and were trying to finally get their revenge.

“Hey. Shh. Shhhhh. It’s me. It’s Oliver.”

She heard a voice but her panicking brain wasn’t able to process the words.

With all the strength her still weak body contained, she boxed out at the person close to her. She felt her fist hit him multiple times but he didn’t even try to get away. He knelt right next to her, enduring her punches, until her body was too exhausted to defend herself anymore. The adrenaline faded and with it Marta’s ability to land any hits. Oliver was surprised at how much her punches had hurt him and he was sure he’d have some bruises. It was the first glimpse she’d given him of her true strength, of the bad-ass Agent she’d been before whatever happened in this house. He didn’t know and he didn’t ask. Not her, not Director Burns. She’d tell him if and when she was ready, and if not, then that was okay for him too. He’d already been through all that with his best friend Butch. He had experience with someone reliving their horrors all over again.

When Marta finally stilled he carefully wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug. Maybe he was crossing a line here but he had a huge urge to help this poor woman. To hold her and make her feel better. To be there for her.

Marta crawled on his lap, straddling him, while he pressed her close against his chest. Was this strange for two colleagues who only knew each other for a day? Absolutely.

But it felt right at that moment.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’m here. You are safe.”

Christmas Sweater

THEN

December 24th, 2019

The colors of their wedding picture had already faded, way more than they should have after only two years, but after Frank’s death Marta had had the picture between her fingers more often than usual, diving deep into the memories of the happiest day of her life. Seeing their first dance in front of her eyes, both of them not knowing any kind of dancing, just swaying to the music while laughing so much that their abs hurt afterwards. Frank had always made her laugh.

That night she had dreamed about waking up in their old house and when she had turned her head around Frank was snoring beside her. Marta had always been annoyed by his very loud snoring, which stole her sleep way too often, but in her dream all she could do was smile and cry when she heard his snores. She’d missed him so much. Marta had cuddled by his side, carefully slipping underneath his arm, and placed her head on his chest. His steady heartbeat and the rumbling snores had made her feel happier than she had in the last 365 days.

When she really woke up in the CIA headquarters, alone, her heart broke all over again. Exactly a year had gone by since the day the intruder killed Frank and it felt like only yesterday that she found him in their bedroom. This morning the first thing she did was grab her purse and get the folded wedding picture out of it. She’d been carrying it with her ever since his death. They hadn’t been the classic ‘I carry a picture of my partner in my purse’ couple before, but grabbing her favorite picture and placing it in her purse was the first thing she did when she woke from the coma. A nurse from the rehab hospital had negotiated with the CIA that they bring Marta a few personal items while she was recovering from her severe injuries. The nurse had been very convincing in saying that Marta needed something to hold while she went through all the different stages of grief.

Marta saw a tear fall on the picture in her hands before the liquid exploded into tinier drops. Before she could dive deeper into the carousel of her mind, she heard a knock from the door.

“Come in!” She shouted, trying to dry her eyes to not look like a zombie but she was sure she’d failed miserably. She hastened to her door and opened it.

With a big smile on his face Oliver held a self-made Christmas cookie up to Marta’s face. It was in the shape of a Christmas tree and someone had tried to put some green icing with sprinkles on top of it. You could see that said-person was not used to working with icing as it looked like it had been flowing off the cookie, taking most of the decorations with it.

“Cookie for breakfast?” He asked while tilting his upper body behind the cookie so that Marta could see his face.

She wasn’t in the mood for anything to do with Christmas but Oliver’s wide smile and the absolute happiness in his eyes made her lips twitch until she was smiling too.

“That’s what you call a healthy breakfast, Agent?” She chuckled a little.

“We can be healthy the other 362 days of the year but not the three days of Christmas!” Oliver responded, still holding the cookie towards Marta.

She sighed and grabbed the cookie out of his hands. Oliver looked at her with expectation in his eyes and Marta knew he wouldn’t go away before she at least gave it a try. As carefully as possible she took a small bite of the cookie and the moment the dough melted on her tongue she couldn’t help but moan a little.

“Wow it’s amazing,” she commented before taking a bigger bite.

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