AGENT | Anonymous

seventeen

SEVENTEEN

SIX MONTHS LATER

THE DAYS WERE BEGINNING TO get colder and colder, Christmas time being right around the corner. Scarlett walked down the sidewalk clutching her chest, her mouth chattering and her body shivering. The woman knew she should have worn something warmer than a thin dress with a jacket that was made purely for decoration, but she hadn't expected it to get this cold by the time work had ended.

The Agent raised her hand to hail a cab, watching was the driver pulled over quickly to receive her business. She got in the backseat, buckling her seatbelt and telling the man her destination.

As they drove — Scarlett found herself lost in thought as Christmas love songs played softly from the radio.

Lucien Romano had gone missing shortly after his arrest. Six months. Six long months of nothing but paperwork stacked on her desk and nothing to look forward to in the night. Many of his colleagues were stuck behind bars, or dead. And thinking back about how excited she was to finally complete a mission and receive credit for it, every part of her screamed that what happened to the Anonymous hackers in New York was wrong.

Scarlett had spent a month searching for him and the others. A month of nothing but dead ends.

In the beginning upon her return, she began to call everyone in the building the wrong name. When someone surprised her, she would yell out, Lucien, stop that! Sometimes when other women visited for job opportunities she would slip and say something like That's great Natalia! Or, Ayana, I think you're a great candidate for this position.

Everyone blamed it on PTSD. She now had minor PTSD at the sounds of gunshots or screaming, but nothing that would make her mistake one person for someone else. The brunette missed them, if that made any sense at all.

Lucien was now at the top of the FBI Most Wanted List, and most likely in hiding. Scarlett also considered that he might be dead. A lot could happen in a six month period of time. But she had pushed the possibility of his death to the very back of her mind.

Lucien was smarter than that.

The taxi stopped with a jolt. "We're here."

The brunette payed for her fare, exiting into the cold air and entering her home. It was cold and empty as Scarlett had bought it two months back. She hadn't felt the need for furniture or lavish things. A bed, clothes, food and maybe a couch would do her fine. The woman placed the keys on the counter, leaning against the kitchen counters.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She got it out, looking at the number that was not yet in her contacts. The brunette answered it anyways, holding the phone up to her ear. "This is Scarlett speaking."

"And this is Lucien speaking. I'm at your door, could you let me in?"

•••

LUCIEN STILL WORE HIS MASK, as Scarlett had expected him to do. She had many dreams over the last few months of how they would meet up again. Maybe he would appear at work and make his presence known, or approach her in a crowded street and tell her that he had been looking since that day. But those dreams and hopes faded the more that time went by.

Scarlett had thought that Lucien would never come back. And she had been fine with it, up until now.

At first the brunette had almost passed out. All the memories had rushed back to her in a flash, her senses overloading, shock filling her body. Lucien was able to calm her down enough to the point of stability. And now here they sat, looking at each other quietly in the living room.