by A J Rivers
"He wasn't anyone the version of me you knew would be interested in," I clarify. "And that was the point. It had been years, but I was still convinced I could change. The person I was didn't have to be set in stone. I could decide who I was going to be, who I needed to be, and that meant creating the environment that person would live in. Does that make sense?"
"No," Sam says. "Why were you fighting so hard? What was the point of completely altering who you were? I understand you wanted to go into the Bureau, and I didn't agree with it, but what else?"
"Going into the Bureau wasn't something I ever thought about, and yet when I made the decision that it was what I wanted to do, it felt like it was always laid out for me. My father insisted I train in martial arts. He talked to me about current events and laws. It was something I was prepared for from the time I was a young child; I just didn't realize it. Then after he disappeared, it fell into place. But I never wanted to be in the CIA. That's what's strange. You would think if going into service was about avenging my father, I'd literally follow in his footsteps, I'd take up the role he left behind. But I couldn't. That didn't feel right to me."
"Because you couldn't bring yourself to think he was actually gone, that he'd left that role vacant," Sam muses.
I nod. "Even when everybody was giving me their condolences and talking about him like he was dead, I never believed it. That just wouldn't sink in. He was missing. He still is missing. And if he was just missing, then I didn't need to pick up his legacy and carry on. But I needed to do something. Living without my mother and not even knowing what happened to her was something that defined my life. It was a part of me from the time I was twelve years old. I never accepted it. And I never wanted anyone else to go through that. More than that, though, I never wanted another criminal to get away with what they did. That thought was something I couldn't cope with. Someone out there knew what happened to my mother. They killed her and were going about their lives like it never happened.
“Every time I thought about that, it just made me angrier. It was like every day they were alive took her life more. Like every day they were alive, it killed her again. I wanted to make sure that didn't happen. Becoming an agent was a way to stop it. But in my heart, I knew that wasn't the life I had planned. I was going to have to sacrifice who I used to be and who I could have been in order to fill that role. The woman I needed to be would have been interested in Greg. On paper, he was everything I should have wanted. Intelligent, successful, in the same industry, so he understood my career pressures and what I was going through."
"So, you played matchmaker with Greg and the person you were telling yourself you had to be," Sam notes.
“You could put it that way. It didn't even really bother me that I wasn't happy with him. It's not that I was unhappy. There weren't real struggles in our relationship. We didn't argue or make each other angry. Pretty much as soon as we started dating, we fell into a really easy pattern that felt like we could’ve kept it going on into perpetuity. And to be honest, that was pretty much the plan. It wasn't that being in a relationship with him fulfilled me, but it took a layer of pressure off. People expected me to have a relationship and get married. Attaching to Greg, I meant I didn't have to think about that anymore. I didn't have to deal with the idea of meeting people and getting to know them. I didn't want to let anyone in. I didn't want to share my past or wait for that inevitable moment when they would realize who I was and what I've been through and run.”
“Did Greg know your past?” Sam asks.
“Some of it,” I tell him. “It's hard not to know my mother was murdered or that I've been on my own since I was eighteen. And with as many connections with the Bureau as my father had, his name is known. But I never felt the need to fully open up to him. Not in a way that felt vulnerable, or like I was giving him any more access than newspapers and other people could give him. That was comfortable for me. He was just another piece of building the person and the future I thought I needed. I told myself that if I just kept going, kept reminding myself of that person; I would really become her.”
"But you're not."
"That's the thing, Sam. I am. Being an agent might not be what I thought I was going to be. It's not the future I envisioned. But it's what I am. Who I am. It gives me what I wanted it to, and now it's leading me down the path that brought me to it in the first place. Bit by bit, I'm finding out what happened to my mother."
He looks hurt, and I reach out for his hand before he can step away from me. "But that doesn't mean I was completely right. I didn't have to change everything about myself in order to be a good agent. I just didn't know that before Greg disappeared."
"Did you really see a future with him?" he asks.
"As much as I really let myself see any future,” I tell him. “It wasn't really something I thought about very much. I focused on the day to day, and that was it. But as far as our relationship went, I thought everything was going well. Like I said, we didn't argue or aggravate each other. We had a pretty consistent rhythm to our relationship and it just flowed right along. The ring he gave me wasn't an engagement ring. I was clear on that. But I also knew it meant he was thinking in that direction. Then it just ended. There was no build up, no tension in our relationship. No argument, no difficulties that might give me some sort of clue he was thinking about breaking up with me.”
“How did he do it?” Sam asks.
“He walked into my office like he did every day. But instead of asking if we were going to dinner or going to order something, he told me he'd been thinking about his life and had come to the conclusion that he needed to go in another direction. That's actually how he put it. Not that he wanted to see other people, or that we weren't working out. Just that he needed to go in another direction.”
“You didn't ask him what was going on or try to get some other explanation?”
“I didn't. Looking back on it, that probably says more than anything else. But I just let him walk out of the office. And I was sad. Genuinely, I was. Even if there were no violins and butterflies when it came to our relationship, it was still a relationship I'd had for a long time. Bellamy did everything she could to make me stop thinking about him and convince me it was better that we were broken up. He was boring and had pretty much peaked in his life. She didn't realize I didn't need her to convince me there was more out there than Greg. I just needed to deal with the change and move on. But I didn't get a chance to. Three weeks later, he was gone.”
“Just like that?” Sam asks. “He was just gone?”
“Just like that,” I nod. “And the first thing I thought was I should have asked him more.”
Chapter Six
Greg
Two years ago…
The self-checkout machine whirred and clicked its way through counting out the hundred dollars Greg requested, then dispensed the bills. He grabbed them from the slot at the front of the machine, folded them in half, and tucked them away in his pocket. Taking the few bags of items he purchased from the frame supporting the bags, he headed out of the store without making eye contact with anybody else. It was a process he had gone through several times over the course of the last three weeks. Combined with shifting money into new accounts and paying bills that didn't exist just so he could access the funds without it being traceable.
He didn't want anybody to be able to look at his bank account in the coming days and weeks and follow his movements. This had to be done carefully. It was one of the steps in the preparation Lotan warned him about during their first encounter in the parking deck. He'd gone into more detail during their second meeting the next day, instructing Greg about everything he needed to do in order to get ready for the mission ahead. For the last nearly three weeks, he had been carefully following each of the guidelines the older man gave him. Greg still didn't know exactly what he was doing or what to expect. Lotan said it was too sensitive to talk about until the time was right.
It still felt so strange to force himself to think of
him using that name. It wasn't the first time he was instructed to use a code term to refer to someone on a team, especially when preparing for an undercover assignment that could be dangerous. Using codenames doesn't just help to protect the identity of the people on the team and establish a sense of structure among the ranks. It also creates a certain sense of distance. That seems like a strange thing to want when you’re relying on others and working so intently together, but it could be critical to not only the success of the mission but the safety of everyone working together. It’s difficult to continue to refer to somebody by their given name while trying to see them as a different person. Giving them a new name or a title creates that distance, helps to blur the person they used to be, so it becomes easier to adapt to them fulfilling another role.
As much as he didn't want to think about it, he also knew it helps to provide a buffer in the event something goes wrong on the assignment. That isn't something any agent ever wants to think about. But it happens. Far more often than he wanted to admit, far more often than is acceptable. Of course, no loss of one of their own is ever acceptable. But when it does happen, the entire assignment becomes at risk. If the rest of the team allow the casualty to affect them too deeply, they only place themselves in more danger. Using a different name creates enough separation to lessen the blow. Operatives could contain the reaction, hold it back until the job was done, then allow themselves to experience their genuine reaction.
But that process always involves the Bureau. Operations with men and women Greg had worked with before. It was harder to get himself accustomed to using a cover name for someone he never met, someone he thought was dead.
Even though he knew who he was dealing with, Greg couldn't say the name Ian Griffin. Emma’s father. He couldn't talk about the man's disappearance years before. Over the last three weeks, he'd been given only a few sparse details to fill in his questions about where he’d disappeared to, and why he'd been gone for so long. It was just enough for him to know this man wasn't who everyone thought he was. And that was exactly his intention.
Though he was admired and respected as a top agent in the CIA, Greg learned Ian—Lotan—had another life, another career he had to keep hidden from others. He was also a special operative deputized by the FBI, responsible for top-top-secret operations only possible through the slight hint of overlapping jurisdictions the two organizations had. He worked simultaneously with both organizations to uncover large scale criminal conspiracies and put protective measures into place to manage and reduce the risk to public safety. It wasn't something Greg was even aware was happening, but that was the intentions of both agencies. Ian was one of a very select few individuals who held these massive responsibilities in their hands. And because of that, he was forced to shed his past, his life, and his name.
He became Lotan, and he worked diligently for years before he came looking for Greg.
This was the most intense thing ever asked of Greg. When he committed himself to the Bureau, he knew he might be put into difficult situations. He could be asked to sacrifice his safety, and more, for the cases he would help investigate. But he never anticipated something quite like this. Lotan came to him, asking for his help with something bigger and more important than he ever imagined. It would give him the opportunity to save countless lives and protect not only the nation but nations across the world. It was an honor and a privilege.
In exchange, he was being asked to offer up everything he held dear in his life. He would have to prove his devotion to the Bureau and to the oath he took when he became an agent. Wanting to do his part and make this vision a reality meant being willing to forgo everything. His daily routine. His home. His friends. Emma.
Ending his relationship with Emma was painful, but he reassured himself, it didn't have to be permanent. It was only for as long as he was on this assignment, and it was essential. Maintaining a relationship with her would create more worry, would link him back to his current life, and stop him from being truly able to commit everything to the work he would do with Lotan. Their relationship was going so well. He was happy with her and saw her as his future. But that only made it more important to distance himself from her. He had to protect her. To keep her safe and to ease her reaction. If they were still together when the time finally came for him to walk away, it would be more difficult for her, and she would be more likely to dedicate her time and energy to trying to find him. If their relationship was over, she might be able to just let it go.
At least for now. At least until he was able to come back and explain everything to her. Greg looked forward to that day. This is what he needed to be doing, it was the right choice, and he took solace in knowing the person asking him to do it understood the sacrifice better than anyone. The man once known as Ian put everything behind him, including Emma. It was different, of course, but it was enough.
He only wished he better understood Emma's reaction. She barely gave a response when he told her their relationship was over. It was almost as if she didn't hear it or didn't understand what he was saying. But he couldn't double back. He couldn't stop and talk to her about it. If he did, it would threaten his resolve. Instead, he walked away from her and spent the last three weeks avoiding any contact so they would never have to have that conversation.
It got harder every day, and even as the anxiety about what was to come increased, it was a relief to get to now. It was finally over. This was the last night before he walked away.
Before he disappeared.
Greg got to the borrowed car delivered to his home that afternoon and put everything in the backseat. What was already there didn't look like enough to represent his entire life. But it was all he was able to bring. Too much would call attention. The point was to slip out of his life as if he was never there. He couldn't leave a trail or show that walking away was planned. They would trace his movements, and that wasn't something he could let happen. Of course, they would try. That was simply the reaction when someone went missing. Especially an agent. When the rest of the team noticed he wasn't following his usual routine and didn't show up for work, they would follow the procedure for trying to find him.
Check his home.
Search for his car.
Follow the money.
The last three weeks were spent ensuring all those details were managed so they would find nothing to lead them to what he was really doing and compromise the assignment. There would be no signs of him planning to leave his life. No signs of foul play. It would look like he simply faded away. And that's exactly what he wanted.
Chapter Seven
Now
"I felt so guilty after he disappeared," I tell Sam. "That's the thing people don't understand about it. They saw me trying to piece it together and figure out what happened because it only made sense I would be devastated by him being gone. Most of the people we knew thought our breakup was really sudden, and a lot just figured we would end up back together. Seeing us together was reassuring to them in some way. That sounds ridiculous now, but it was. In those days and weeks and months after Greg walked out of work and never came back, it was just expected I was going to be sad because my heart was broken, and I was so worried about him. But that's not what was happening."
"You weren't worried?" he asks.
"Of course I was worried. But I wasn't heartbroken. I was upset, sure. I was scared. I didn't want anything to happen to him, but there was never a moment when I really felt crushed by him being gone. What I was going through was guilt."
"Guilt about what?"
"That I didn't do anything else. That I pushed him away or didn't listen to him well enough so I could remember something he said that might tell us where he was. That I didn't ask more questions when he broke up with me or try to figure out what was going through his mind. That it was so easy for me to transition into life without him," I tell him.
"None of that was malicious. You can't blame yourself for things you had no way of knowing were going to matter. People end re
lationships every single day. That doesn't mean one of the people is going to end up disappearing in a few weeks. You couldn't have known anything was going to happen," Sam tries to reassure me.
"But I should have. One thing anybody who knew Greg would point out about him is his predictability. Routines and schedules. Patterns. Everything just so. That's actually one of the last arguments we had. I was a few minutes late leaving work, so we weren't going to get to the restaurant we ate at every Friday at the same time. He was so upset. It was like he thought the entire world was going to collapse around him because he wasn't sitting in the exact right chair, at the exact right time. That's why I should have thought about the breakup more. It didn't make sense, and it didn't sound like him. It should have tipped me off. If he was going to break up with me, he would have presented all the reasons why in a chart and provided evidence and research to support each of his points, then scheduled a check-in meeting to make sure things were still going well and we were adjusting properly after. That's just the way Greg was," I say.
"Is."
I turn away from the shadows lengthening across the porch and spilling down onto the ground in front of the cabin.
"What?" I ask.
"Is. That's the way Greg is. You said 'was'. He's alive, Emma," Sam points out.
I let out a short, mirthless laugh and nod.
"You know, in therapy, Katherine pointed out I never speak about my father in the past tense unless I'm talking about a specific memory from years ago. It's not that he was warm and loving, or that he was one of the best the CIA had to offer. Always that he is. I did the same for Greg. I defended the idea of him being alive every time I spoke to her about him. She wanted me to come to terms with it, but I never thought there was something to come to terms with. He was missing, that's it. Now I find out he's alive and suddenly, I've put him in the past. What does that say about me?" I ask.
