Georgetown

Washington, DC

Oakwood Apartments

December 31st, 2015

2300 hours

Ben POV (flahsback)

After the fiasco with Erica, I actually stayed at the cafe for a little while. Over two hours, I drank hot cocoa and ate pastries—seriously, that French family is good at making this stuff—though it wasn't a great amount, just over a long period of time.

Thankfully, nobody commented on the outburst that took place, with the staff simply taking my orders without muss nor fuss. Though, the friendly old lady ended up putting an extra chocolate croissant in the pastry bag "by mistake," refusing to take it back because "it had already been touched by a customer."

Like my mother, she seemed to strongly believe in food being something with healing powers. That, or she really put in an extra croissant by mistake.

Chip and Jawa showed up at one point, saying that they too wanted more food and drink, and sat with me. They seemed pissed about something, but I wasn't in any mood to press. Honestly, as much as it would've been nice to be alone, I did enjoy their company. Though, after a little while, I let myself fade into the background, deep in thought and Chip relegated tales of redneck mishaps.

As I thought over my mother's words and what Erica said, it occurred to me that my idea of what to do next... well, it didn't exist.

My pondering was interrupted by the rambunctious brothers-in-arms, who insisted on carrying out some crazy actions with me in tow. Wait, scratch that, Chip was the one leading the charge while Jawa insisted that it was a "dumbass decision..." though he still went along.

We proceeded to walk to Book Hill Park, rent some sleds from the same sled-man we met in Chapter 24, and race each other.

You'd think it'd get boring racing down the hill over and over again, right? Well, not only did we sled down multiple hills, but Chip threw in several other elements of chaos—in particular, he threw snowballs at Jawa and I as we plummeted down the slope. At the bottom, Jawa and I teamed up on the large southerner.

Though, what we didn't realize was that some of his throws were so powerful, they ended up going far enough that they hit another group of kids. Before any apologies could be made, snowballs were hurling back at us, becoming a full-scale snowball fight between us and seven middle and high school-aged boys, who were led by a large, muscly jock in a Bruins jacket.

"C'mon, you wanna go, son?!?" Chip taunted.

"Finally, a worthy opponent! OUR BATTLE WILL BE LEGENDARY!" Hockey Boy had bellowed in a Bostonian accent.

"KEEP BACK, BOYS! THIS ONE'S MINE!"

Their snowfight was so ferocious, the rest of us called a truce and began cheering on our own titans. Finally, it came to a point where Jawa called for a ceasefire, suggesting a gentlemanly duel instead. Each boy rolled up a snowball, began back-to-back, and walked ten paces counted off by me.

Despite Chip being from the land of damn near no snow, he nailed Hockey Boy right in the sternum faster than anyone could blink. As cheers and boos erupted from the crowd, the titans laughed off the whole thing, shaking hands in respect. And right on cue, the seven had to leave, wishing us a Happy New Year before running back to their cars.

"Well, Chip ol' buddy, I think you may have just met your match," Jawa laughed as we walked back to the apartment. "You finally gave a northerner some respect."

"He wasn't bad at all," Chip replied with a shrug. "An honorable feller if nothin' else."

"Honor really is a big part of your code, huh?" I asked.

"It's a critical component to my ethos."

"Big words for the redneck son of crayon-eaters," Jawa snarked.

"Shaddap, taxi boy."

BACK TO THE PRESENT...

It was 11:00 PM, with just one hour 'til 2016 began. The adults were off doing their own thing while the rest of us—save for Erica, who was still nowhere to be seen—were trying to teach Chip how to play Mario Kart.

Mike and Zoe had already been informed of how shit hit the fan earlier in the day, but mercifully moved past it, with the five of us continuing to goof around some more, grabbing a late lunch and playing on the Wii while waiting on our jackets to dry (courtesy of a truck that ran through a pile of slush, splashing all five of us).

"GAH! Why am I so bad at this?!?" Chip groaned as Dry Bowser plummeted into the depths of Wario's Gold Mine yet again. "I've driven trucks, ATVs, even a dirt bike, but I can't drive this?!?"

"You'd be surprised how many professionals have trouble executing the video game version of their professions," Jawa said, giving our resident redneck a sympathetic slap on the back. "A buddy of mine back in Coronado once invited his SEAL dad to play Call of Duty with him, and he said that his dad was the single worst CoD player he'd ever seen... and that man's a freakin' platoon chief!"

"Huh, that explains why my uncle sucked at playing SWAT 4 with my brother," Zoe said with a tone of realization.

"Your uncle... the NYPD SWAT cop?" Mike asked.

"Yep."

"Huh... neat."

"Uh, Ben?" a female voice asked to our right, revealing none other than a nervous Erica, fidgeting under the gaze of the five of us.

"The hell do you want, Hale?" Jawa asked gruffly. "Haven't done enough damage—"

"Jawa, relax," I interrupted, cutting off his diatribe before turning back to Erica. "Erica, what's up?"

"Can... can we talk?" she stuttered, seeming to shake a little—especially with the hostile looks from the other four.

"Okay...?"

"In private, I mean. Outside."

"Bad idea, man..." Mike muttered.

"Fine," I replied. This whole issue needed to be ended, once and for all. If going outside to talk with her in private is what it took, then that's what I was going to do. "Five minutes," I said before I stood, leaving the room to get my clothes.

Though, judging by the passive-aggressive attitude of my friends, I probably had to hustle up before they tried ripping Erica to shreds...

Mike POV

"What's your game, Erica?" I asked as soon as Ben was out of earshot. "Come to screw with Ben's head some more?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mike," Zoe scoffed. "This bitch a manipulator of the heart, not the head."

"Stay out of this. It doesn't involve you," Erica shot back warningly.

"Oh no? You're a damn cat, Erica, and Ben is your ball of yarn. I hate intervening in this sort of thing, but I am now," Jawa countered.

"You didn't have the same attitude a week ago."

"True, but you revealed your true colors today. I should've seen it coming, but I didn't. But you screw with him any more and I'll kick you where the sun doesn't shine, you stupid broad," Zoe threatened.

"And I'll back her up," I agreed, staring the girl down.

"Simmer down, you two," Chip ordered before I could continue ranting. However, he wasn't without warnings himself. "You've got less than an hour to settle this, Hale. That's all you get."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll come get you myself."

"Okaaaay, Chip. Please do not go full Devil Dog on her," Ben said nonchalantly as he walked back into the room, zipping up his coat. "That's gonna live with you for a while, isn't it? Y'know, legal troubles and all?"

"Trust me brother, I've got bigger issues comin' up on Judgment Day than puttin' a manipulative turd in her place."

"Whatever you say, bro. C'mon, Erica. Let's get this over with," Ben sighed as he flashed us a "hang loose" gesture before walking to the door, with Erica quickly following.

"I can't believe I ever—" Zoe began before I nodded morosely, gripping her shoulder.

"You and me both, Zo... you and me both," I sighed.

"Yeah... what a bitch."

Ben POV

We ended up walking over to the same park where the Christmas festival was held days ago, considering that the adults already decided to take us there for the fireworks show. It was a silent trip as we trudged on the sidewalks to our destination, through the chilly breeze and puddles of slush and ice.

Finally, we arrived at the park where—like at the Christmas festival—many of the same vendors had set up, with some people already lighting sparklers. In the background, I could see a couple of local firefighters and cops on duty, watching over the spread-out crowd.

"Okay, let's do this," I sighed as I led Erica to a more isolated section of the park—coincidentally enough, the same section where I escaped to and talked with Cyrus during my panic attack days earlier. Hopefully the outcome would be as okay (or possibly better) than the situation in Chapter 26.

"Well... thank you for coming to talk," Erica said, fidgeting as we sat on the ground.

"Cut to the chase, Erica."

"I wanted to apologize..."

"Let me guess: 'it's complicated?'" I mocked.

"Well... yes. But I haven't been completely honest with you," she sighed with a tone of regret.

"... go on."

"Over the past several years, I've manipulated you into my schemes. Hell, I'm pretty sure you never would've been on SPYDER's radar if it wasn't for me. All the bullshit in your first year—Jackhammer, Pinwheel, and beyond—well, I dragged you into that."

"You turned me into shark chum."

"I... yes. And that was my fault."

"Uh-huh. You also caught me up in the beef between you and your dad."

"Yes, I did."

"And then all the bullshit with SPYDER's school—"

"Yes," she interrupted. "Are we going to go over everything?"

"Why, you have somewhere else you need to be?!?" I shot back, angered. "Erica, you've gotten me caught up in so much bullshit over the past four years that I've lost count! And 'for the mission?' We're not meant for this crap, neither one of us! Your parents have had their asses saved by real soldiers several times, and they're pretty darn formidable! You've only been doing this so that you could one-up everyone else, particularly your dad—who, keep in mind, is the reason I didn't die in Mexico or his office!"

At the end of my tirade, Erica was silent, taking in my words and offering no reply.

"And the kiss in Colorado? What the hell was that? 'Making my last moments happy' or some crap like that?" I continued. "Erica, that is not in your playbook. Not now, not ever. Why did you do it? Why—"

"Because I loved you!" she blurted out, cutting off my raving. "Because... I loved you. I did for a while... I just didn't know how to say it."

"You... you did?" I replied, shocked.

"Yes. I did. I still do."

"That was 'complicated?'"

"Yes."

"Good grief," I muttered as I rubbed my forehead. "Then what was with the cold, apathetic, conceited attitude? All that bullshit of yours? Why couldn't you be honest with me, or at least not screw with me like you did?"

Once more, she offered no response. I tried rationalizing the situation myself: a bad childhood and such. And to be fair, I do think that stoicism has its uses. From what I heard in the Mexico debrief, Alexander defied Cyrus's orders to get the high-value targets to the consulate, handing the responsibility to Catherine before basically going full Rambo and saving the lives of Cyrus, the British commandos, and myself. He didn't sit around and get emotional, but simply acted in a semi-logical manner.

I say semi-logical because he ran in alone—a tactic that conventional wisdom has generally found to be foolish.

But in the end, no matter how many devil's arguments I ran in my head, I couldn't exactly justify her actions. Maybe some of the ones relevant to our ops, but nothing else. It's like what my father once said: "a bad past may explain present wrongdoings, but it far from justifies them."

"I... don't know," she finally replied, her shoulders drooping. "But what I did was wrong. I don't expect you to forgive me... but I wanted you to know that I'm sorry."

Now it was my turn to be silent as I processed the turmoil within me. The part of me that would've been ecstatic at Erica's declaration of love no longer existed, so all that remained was suspicion, disbelief, and hate. It would be so easy to despise her forever. And yet... I wasn't sure I could do that. It didn't feel right in any respect.

"Erica... I forgive you," I finally replied.

"Wh-what?"

"I forgive you. As pissed off as I am, I don't feel inclined to hold on to my... dislike of you. All it's gonna do is mess me up further. I'd rather just move on."

"'Move on?' That's it?"

"Erica, I don't love you... not like I used to," I sighed. "Hell, I'm not sure I'm ready for any sort of relationship now. I'm still messed up in the head from what went down one-and-a-half years ago. Working past that and advancing forward... that's what I need to do right now."

"Oh..."

"Hey, I'm not going to give you that 'we can be friends' schtick because it's pretty stupid for the most part. If anything, we gotta spend some time away from each other and... well, fix ourselves before getting into any sort of romance."

"... is that what you want?" Erica asked as she looked down, her voice almost a whisper.

"Yeah," I replied firmly, but with as little aggression as possible. I remembered what Dad said: that I would "have a job, make friends, love a woman, raise a kid." And I had a feeling he was right—even regarding the last two points. It was definitely going to happen... but not now, as a teenager that knows both too much and too little at the same time. And not with Erica who was... well, problematic, to put it politely. "We both have a ways to go."

"I... I see," she murmured, sounding about as wistful as I felt. We sat in silence after that—not an awkward one, but it wasn't a comfortable one either—for once again, neither of us knew what to do.

"Besides, if anything happened between us, you'd have the FBI breaking down your door in a couple of months," I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Why is that?" she questioned with a frown.

"Don't you turn eighteen in a few months?"

"... ha-ha."

"Erica, the best thing for us to do right now is focus on our own lives. Truth be told, I do care about you. Despite my problems with you, I genuinely hope that you can bring out the best in yourself and be a better person. And sure, maybe something's gonna happen between us... but not yet."

"... right."

"Just promise me one thing."

"Yes?"

"Learn from your mistakes and maintain a balance between your head and heart. Don't follow either, follow both," I urged, recalling the life lesson my mother told me many years ago. "Please."

"I... I will. I promise," she replied after a few moments.

"Shake on it?" I asked, extending my hand. She looked at it for a few moments—not in contempt or shock, but somewhat numbly—before reaching out and shaking it, nodding silently.

"Okay... well, the gang's gonna be here pretty soon for the fireworks. Ready to go?"

"I... I need a few minutes."

"Sure thing," I replied as I stood, brushing the snow off my pants as I walked away. However, there was still one nagging thought within me, making me turn back. "Erica?"

"Yes?" she asked, looking up.

"Remember to smile and laugh. Not only does it improve your image, but it'll help your own soul. Trust me." And with that, I turned back around and walked away from Erica Hale. Did I have any doubts? Any private traitorous thoughts? Perhaps, but none of them manifested in my head or heart.

Could something happen between us? Was love inevitable for me? Maybe so.

But not today.

Zoe POV

"Stop it, Zoe," Mike sighed as we arrived at the park with the rest of the group.

"Stop what?" I questioned, confused at what I was doing.

"Thinking of ways to kick Erica's ass. That's my job. Your job is to execute them."

"Uh-huh. And why's that?"

"Because if I do it, I'm going to be labeled as a female-hating turd. If you do it, you'll be hailed as a hero."

"Ah, good point," I assented with a nod, remembering something I'd argued with Chip about my first summer at Spy Camp: when those stupid Brits were screwing around, the only reason he didn't counterattack was because the perpetrator was Claire, a girl. If it was a boy, he probably would've beat his ass.

Which is a real shame, considering that Chip can kick the crap out of just about every kid I've ever met (except for maybe Hank), and I would've loved to see that dumb British broad get her teeth kicked down her throat.

"Hang on, so does that make me your lackey?"

"Nah, you're my right-hand man... woman... thing," he replied. "Personal assassin? Which is ironic considering that your primary skillset is communications."

"I can hurt her with my words and my nails!" I joked.

"... 'nails?'"

"Makes sense," Jawa cut it. "It's only a catfight when hair-pulling and nail-slashing are present."

"Also, both parties need to be female, Jawa," Mike added. "Y'know, women? Girls? Gals? And depending on the age group, there will be excessive use of the word 'bitch.'"

"Did you two just pull this crap from the dictionary or something?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

"Nah, I have sisters," Jawa replied with a shrug.

"And I know girls," Mike said. "And witnessed plenty of catfights in normal school... plus a couple at the Academy."

"Well, that's one way of doin' it," Chip interjected. "Though, nothin' beats a good ol' grapplin', punchin', or straight-up wrasslin'."

"Thank you for your redneck input, bro."

"Don't mention it."

"Oh, hello Ben!" Catherine said waving over to my good friend, who was walking towards us. He didn't look sad nor happy, which I wasn't sure was a good sign or not. "Where's Erica?"

"She said she'll catch up," he responded quickly before turning towards us. "Hey guys. What's up?"

"Everythin' good, man?" Chip asked almost immediately.

"Yeah... you guys can stand down now. There's nothing more to do."

"But—" I began before Mike discreetly grabbed my hand, shocking me enough to make me stop.

"Well, we're glad to hear that, bro," Mike replied with a grin. "You resolved the situation like a boss. Ain't that right, guys?"

"Er, sure. Glad to know everything's taken care of," Jawa replied, trying not to disrupt the mood with further questions. "Eh, Chip?"

"Yeah, sure... but you ain't Canadian, brother," the southerner deadpanned, making us all freeze for a moment before Ben burst out laughing, the rest of us quickly following.

"Uh, kids? I think Dad has a bright idea," Alexander interjected, pointing over at Cyrus, who had just purchased a rather large quantity of fireworks. Coincidentally, the man running the fireworks stand—which popped up out of nowhere, mind you—was the sled-man from Chapter 24. One helluva businessman, I guess. "And potentially explosive."

"Let's goooooo!" Jawa cheered as he began booking it towards the old man, with the rest of the gang quickly following. As for me, Mike still hadn't let go of my hand as we hustled on over to Cyrus... who was grinning a little too much in retrospect.

Catherine POV

"Oh, hello dear!" I greeted as Erica finally arrived, walking from the same bit of area where Ben had come from earlier.

"Hey Mom," she replied... sullenly?

"What's the matter, kiddo?" Alex asked, concern dawning on his face.

"Well... I screwed up."

"Uh... how?"

We sat down in a more private area and for the next few minutes, Erica began explaining everything: from the failed date-that-wasn't-a-date, to Jawa's ranting, to the talk with Ben, and finally his decision. And through it all, Erica was practically mumbling, and seemed quite close to the verge of tears... but she never shed one.

"Damn," Alex said after pondering Erica's words for a moment. "That's... rough."

"Alex!" I hissed, tapping his arm.

"What? That's the truth!"

"It is," Erica sighed, her shoulders drooping further.

"Well, some adjusting is necessary on your end... it's not the end of the world or anything," Alex suggested.

"Alex, could you give me a moment with her?" I asked. While my fiance (it feels weird to say that once again) was undoubtedly correct, he was a little too blunt with his words.

"I'll go make sure Dad doesn't go 'Nam-crazy or anything," he sighed before giving Erica a side-hug and walking away. In the distance, I could make out the kids messing around with the sparklers and a few of the smaller fireworks, with Cyrus joining in on the fun... surprisingly.

"Okay, what's your advice?" Erica groaned, sounding as if she anticipated this.

"Well, I must admit, I'm a bit disappointed... not in Ben, however," I sighed, shaking my head. "But I'm not going to bemoan the past. Ben has to figure some things out on his own, and so do you. It's probably for the best, like Alex said."

"I know it is... but why does it hurt?" Erica coughed out, a few tears leaking from her eyes, prompting me to pull her into a hug.

"Rejection stings, darling," I soothed as my daughter trembled, letting out a few more tears. For a few minutes, I continued to hold her as she cried, spewing regret and loss of hope. "The best thing we can do is move on."

"But... why? Why did I treat him—" she hiccuped before I shushed her.

"Whatever the reason, it's best to close the matter. Now come, let's have a spot of hot cocoa."

I released her, letting her dry her eyes while I purchased two hot chocolates from the French vendors. When I came back to her, her eyes were still red and her face was flushed, but she had stopped crying. As I handed a cup to her, she didn't react beyond a light hiss at the beverage's heat when she sipped it.

"Got it all out, Erica?"

"I dunno... but I do recognize my mistakes. All of them."

"That's good, dear. That's very good."

"I just... I just wish I didn't do what I did. He's a good guy."

"He is indeed, dear. But like your father said, it's not the end of the world."

"Yeah..."

"Here are some words for you to live by: those that do not learn their history are doomed to repeat it."

"That's all there is to it?"

"Indeed, darling," I sighed as I gave her a side-hug, gazing at the children from afar. "That's all one can do."

Mike POV

"THIRTY SECONDS!" someone bellowed, initiating a countdown among the people present in the park. "TWENTY-NINE, TWENTY-EIGHT, TWENTY-SEVEN..."

"HEY, MIKE!" Zoe shouted over our friends counting. "QUICK QUESTION!"

"SURE, WHAT'S UP?" I responded.

"... TWENTY-ONE, TWENTY..."

"ISN'T IT GOOD LUCK TO HAVE A KISS ON NEW YEAR'S EVE?!?"

"WHA—YOU'RE A BOLD ONE, AREN'T YOU?!?" I exclaimed over the raucous crowd.

"I'M A NEW YORKER, BREZINSKI! IT'S WHAT I DO!" she cheekily replied.

"... SEVENTEEN, SIXTEEN, ..."

"A BIT EARLY, ISN'T IT?"

"YOUR POINT, MIKEY?"

"TEN! NINE! EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX..."

"Oh, what the hell..." I muttered as I grabbed her hands. "Y'know, I really do like you. This isn't just for fun."

"FIVE! FOUR! THREE..."

"Don't worry, I like you too," she replied with a grin.

"TWO! ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!" the crowd bellowed as dozens of fireworks went off—both from the crowd and the professional fireworks display guys further away. But the biggest fireworks of all was when Zoe kissed me. It wasn't a makeout or some dumb romantic kiss like in a rom-com or idiot book, but it certainly was an affectionate smooch.

"Happy 2016, Mike," she whispered, giving me a hug.

"You too, Zo," I replied, smiling as I bent down to return her embrace.

"MIKE AND ZOE SITTING IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" Jawa began singing behind me.

"FIRST COMES LOVE!" Ben joined in.

"THEN COMES MARRIAGE!" Chip laughed.

"AND THEN COMES A BABY IN A BABY CARRIAGE!" the boys finished, howling like hyenas at the end of the playground ditty. I suppose this is what I got for mocking Ben with it during our game of Two Truths and a Lie.

"You're all imbeciles," I groaned as Zoe and I broke apart, though I could feel myself and see her blushing. Making the whole thing worse was Alexander—who was laughing at the whole thing—and Cyrus, who grinned as he launched another firework into the sky.

"Hey, kids!" the old man shouted over the chaos. "Remember: leave some space for Jesus!"

"Amen!" Chip agreed. "We don't need mini Brezinskis and Zibbells running around just yet!"

"Dad! Chip!" Alexander scolded, though any admonishment was ruined by his continued laughter. "Don't tease them!"

"Hey, someone needs to give 'em advice!" Cyrus laughed.

Someone's not gonna be happy about the way I've ended this, and it's understandable. Especially when considering the earlier chapters, this certainly seems like a bait-and-switch. However, like I mentioned in the prior chapter, my thoughts on the entire matter have changed so much, I had to change my original ending.

But Mike and Zoe? They're a couple of yahoos... I'd say they're good together (based on my poor understanding of romance, of course). Alexander and Catherine are engaged again, and Chip and Jawa are... well, Chip and Jawa.

Be sure to leave a comment. Thanks for reading, and check out the epilogue!

See you there,

- ADF-2