The Invisible. Andrew Britton
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her over. The white cashmere sweater she was wearing was one of her favorites, as familiar as her snug, worn jeans and clunky heels. Her shimmering black tresses drifted around her face and over her shoulders, her bangs sweeping from left to right across her forehead. It was a slight variation on her usual style, and it served to conceal most of the pale, crooked scar that bisected her right cheek. It was the only mark on her otherwise flawless caramel-colored skin, which only made it that much more noticeable.
Most of all, he was struck by her posture, which was hard to read. She looked aggressive and defensive all at once. Her arms remained folded across her chest, and her jaw was clenched tightly shut. It was almost as if she were daring him to question the choices she’d made since their last conversation—the choices she’d intentionally kept from him for months on end.
Kealey couldn’t tell how much was show and how much reflected an actual change in her personality, but he didn’t think that her recent training at “The Farm”—the Agency’s main training facility near Williamsburg, Virginia—could have changed her this much. It was more likely that the trials she had gone through the previous year were really to blame. It was strange to see her this way, stripped of her innocence and naiveté. Mostly, though, it was just good to see her again, to know that she hadn’t succumbed to her inner turmoil.
“I’ve been doing okay,” she finally responded. The words caught Kealey off guard; he’d forgotten he’d asked the question. “Better since I went through the course at Camp Peary, anyway. What did Harper tell you?”
“Nothing, really.”
“He must have told you something,” she pressed. “What did he say?”
“He said you wanted to train.” Kealey hesitated. “Is that what you were doing at Peary? Training to go into the field?”
She nodded slowly. “You may not believe this, Ryan, but it was the right decision. The best thing I could have done, really. I needed a change, but it wasn’t just that. I needed to…”
“To what?” he asked, once it became clear she wasn’t going to finish.
She shrugged and looked away. She was trying to project a degree of determination, but she couldn’t seem to pull it off. It was just as he’d thought; she might have changed on some level, but despite her best efforts, she hadn’t been able to fix what was truly wrong. It didn’t surprise him at all. From personal experience, he knew that the wounds inside—the ones that didn’t bleed and couldn’t be seen—were usually the worst, if only because there was no clear way to repair them.
“I can’t really explain it,” Naomi said, “but trust me, it was all for the best. It wasn’t about you, by the way. That’s not why I left, but…look, that’s beside the point. I’m here because I wanted to talk to you. To tell you in person. I think I owe you that.”
“Tell me what, exactly?”
“That I’m ready to go back to work.” She paused for a second to gauge his reaction. “Harper offered me this assignment himself. He said I was perfectly suited for it, given the Pakistani angle. There aren’t too many people who speak Punjabi in the Clandestine Service.”
“Surely more than one, though,” Kealey said, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice. Although he cared about what she was saying, she had yet to bring up what mattered most, at least to him. He was trying to push down his bitterness, but he couldn’t hold it back entirely. “Interesting how you were the first person he thought of.”
She looked at him sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I don’t—” He stopped himself abruptly, not wanting to continue down this road. The last thing he wanted to do was start an argument. He desperately wanted to know what was going on in her mind, but he couldn’t force it out of her. If he pushed her away, she might disappear for another six months, and he didn’t think he could bear to lose her again. “I know you’re capable, Naomi. That isn’t the issue here. I just…”
“What?”
“I don’t think you’re ready.” She started to interrupt, but he held up a hand to stop her. “Just hear me out. You’ve done more in the past couple of years than most field operatives do in ten, and you deserve the chance to do more, if that’s what you want. But you have to give it time.”
“I have given it time.” She looked away, as though gathering her strength, then turned back to him, a hint of frustration rising to the surface. “I’ve given it nearly a year. What do you think I should do? Just quit? Harper picked me for this himself. He thinks I’m ready. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“He doesn’t think you’re ready, Naomi. That was a lie. Don’t you see what’s going on here?” He shook his head angrily, wishing he could make her understand. It was all coming up, all the frustration and pain of the past six months, and despite his best efforts, he could no longer hold it back. “It’s all bullshit. He’s just using you to get to me. I’m sure you—”
“That’s so arrogant,” she said, bolting up in her seat. Her dark green eyes were wide with anger as she punched a finger across the table. “I should have known you’d say something like that. You may not believe it, Ryan, but I have changed, and I’m more than capable of doing what needs to be done. Ask the instructors at the Farm if you don’t believe me. Ask them about my scores on the range. I’m not an analyst anymore, and I’m not going to step aside. If you don’t want any part of this, there are plenty of qualified people at Langley who’d love to fill your shoes.”
“Look, I’m not trying to say you don’t have what it takes,” he said, backpedaling quickly. Then he caught himself and stopped. He couldn’t keep playing it safe; he had to tell her what he really thought. He desperately wanted to keep things civil, but she was the one who had walked out without saying a word. She was the one who’d left him hanging for months on end, and now she was dropping another bomb-shell: the fact that she’d just taken on another, much more dangerous role at the Agency, barely ten months after a lesser role had nearly taken her life. It was just too much to take in at once, and her aggressive attitude was only making things harder. “I just don’t want you to jump into something you can’t handle.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward, imploring her with his eyes. “Have you really moved past it, Naomi? Do you really believe what you’re saying right now? I was with you when you went through the worst of it, remember?”
Her face darkened as she stared across at him; clearly, she wasn’t prepared to back down, much less admit he was right. “Ryan, you haven’t seen me in six months. I don’t care what you believe. I’m not the same person I was back in January, and you know what? I’m not entirely sure I want to work with you on this. Especially if you’re going to fight me the whole way.”
Kealey looked at her in disbelief, at a complete loss for words. It was clear she’d been expecting an argument from the very start, and she wasn’t about to deprive herself. In short, she was telling the truth. She was acting like a completely different person, so unlike the woman he’d known six months earlier. So unlike the woman he loved.
“What about us?” he asked quietly. He deeply resented being forced to ask the question; it felt too much like he was pleading with her. But he had to know, and she was clearly unwilling to broach the subject. “I thought we had something good. Is that over now? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
She didn’t respond for a long time, but a familiar look crossed her face, and for a split second, she was the same person she’d been the last time he saw her: hurt, scared, and vulnerable. When she finally spoke, it was in a low voice, her eyes aimed down at the table. “I don’t know, Ryan. Please don’t make me think about that right now.”
He hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. “Naomi, I—”
“Look, I can’t think about it,” she repeated, snapping her defenses back up in a heartbeat. She looked annoyed, as if he’d tricked her into giving something away. “Besides, that isn’t the issue here. I just