Tristan's Decision [COMPLETED]

Where It Began

A crisp autumn wind scampered down the street, twirling hair and teasing exposed noses. Like cans on a newlywed car, leaves tumbled and rolled in its wake. Boston's city streets were strung with cars all breathing out white puffs of mist into the late afternoon air. Pedestrians hurried to and fro thoughts filling their minds like the beat of music in their ear.

Tristan pulled up the collar of his pea coat and leaned back in his chair. He reached for his cup and brought it to his lips. Steam curled before him twisting and darting away as he breathed out. The scent of coffee filled his nose and the blend of bitter and sweet rolled over his tongue. The sun's rays, though weakened by the season, still offered a small piece of warmth. Mixed with the heat of the coffee, Tristan was able to pleasantly tolerate his choice of outdoor seating.

Across from him, the Common was full of changing colors like a sunset had fallen into the leaves. Music played in his ears, a background to the scene before him. Figures swirled in his mind as Mozart directed their movements. He took a sip, the coffee a different type of melody. The phantom of dancers before him were reaching a crescendo when two figures walked forward, banishing the imagines.

It was a man and a woman in their mid-twenties. They made a striking pair in black suits. The man had black hair swept aside, high prominent cheekbones, and intelligent blue eyes. The woman looked about four years his younger with warm, bronze skin, keen midnight eyes and beautiful features that she did nothing to enhance. They stopped before Tristan and he had the feeling they weren't about to ask for directions.

"Tristan McKenzie," the man said, his deep voice holding a note of authority.

For a fleeting moment, Tristan mused over whether he wanted to know what those two people wanted. Eventually, curiosity won out and he removed his headphones.

"Yes?" he said, his tone edging on bored.

Without asking, they took seats across from him. The woman sank back in her chair as if this were a casual meeting and she merely wanted a cup of coffee. The man's posture was military straight, but not rigid, it merely showed the control in which he held.

"I'm Agent Keller," the man said. "This is my partner, Agent Owens. We work for the CIA."

Tristan raised his hand, stalling the next words. "If this has anything to do with what my sisters have done I take no responsibility."

The couple shared a look and Tristan thought he saw a smirk in the corner of the woman's mouth.

"We know about Cece and Elliot," Agent Owens said. "That is not why we're here. Well, not this time."

"We are here because your country needs you," Agent Keller said.

"I've ignored the country most of my life," Tristan said. "Why would it want me?"

He took another drink, eyeing the two Agents.

"You hold a high position in America and Europe as one of the most renowned choreographers," Agent Keller said. "We merely need you to use that position to attend the gala New York City Ballet is holding in a weeks time."

Curious, Tristan leaned back in his chair, appraising them.

"I'm assuming you didn't fly all the way to Boston from D.C. to ask me to simply be seen at some gala. What is it that you want me to do at this gala?"

Keller looked to Owens and she gave a nod as if confirming what he was thinking. When Keller focused back on Tristan, his blue eyes were serious.

"We need you to stop an assassination attempt on the President's life."

Silence.

What followed was a silence that held an insurmountable weight. A silence that was made up of three parts. The first part was the chaos of a city ignoring each other. The second was settled around the table that held three occupants all holding in their thoughts. The third and possibly the largest of the silence was in the man at that table, sitting opposite the two agents. He had brown hair the color of freshly turned dirt, brushed back. His silence was the heaviest of all because it held the unanswered response.

"If I say no?" Tristan finally asked.

"Then we will be forced to find someone of lesser talents," Keller said.

Owens leaned forward on the table, her manner straightforward.

"Tristan, I understand what we ask you to do is not a simple task, but your abilities have not gone unnoticed. We would train you for the mission and be on standby if anything were to go wrong. We need you."

The world seemed to slow around Tristan, what he had known before seemed of little consequence because before him was a decision that could alter his life forever. Both choices hovered around him, each holding a pressing weight.

"You have the right to say no," Keller said. "This would not be held against you. What we are asking you to do could be dangerous but we believe you are capable of handling it." He folded his hands on the table. "Well, Tristan, what is your decision?"

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