so…I’ve seen you write something for Hei from Darker than Black, and if it’s not too much trouble I WILL request more of him in the future, there needs to be more DtB content out there.
BUT
I also saw a note about November 11, and I wanted to ask if you might be willing to do something with him with a femme civilian reader? she’s very shy, not very outgoing and not prone to going many places on her own unless she has to go to a store or feels daring enough to go to a café, but wound up affiliated with a contractor and November’s job is initially to just get rid of said contractor, but as he gathers intel he winds up very interested in the reader. at first curiosity, but it blooms into something he just can’t quite put his finger on. meanwhile the reader just sees a very friendly Jack Simon, and falls for him too.
but he has a very icy secret, can he keep it or will he be forced to choose between his profession and what he knows is in his heart?
…also mild Dadvember because he’s very much July’s dad and I will hear nothing to the contrary
KNITTED WITH SECRECY
Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!
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Fandom(s): Darker than Black
Pairing(s): November 11 x Reader
Word Count: 6k (PLS READ IM BEGGING YOU)
Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Civilian!Reader, Reader is described as smaller than November 11, Reader is also implied to have longer hair
Notes: THANKS SO MUCH FOR THIS REQUEST
I LOVE NOVEMBER 11 SO MUCH
(This also takes place outside of Japan, just FYI)
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This whole day was a mistake.
It was supposed to be simple. Go out, get groceries, and then go home. Maybe. Just maybe! You could stop at that cat café you had been dying to try on your way home.
Maybe Al wouldn’t be too upset about smelling other cats.
Who were you kidding? He was always upset when he smelled another animal on your clothes. It was part of what made having the little bobtail so much fun.
You stifle a sneeze and rub at your nose as people mill through the grocery store. There had been a sale on shrimp and vegetables, hence why you ventured out of your apartment in the first place. But it seemed that you were out of luck. You had yet to find said shrimp or even the veggies on sale.
And you were looking forward to eating healthy for once, too!
Oh heavens… You were turning into your mother.
You end up ducking out of the grocery store without having bought anything except for some cat treats and wet food and slowly make your way home to your little dingy one-bedroom apartment.
Only to run straight into the one person you don’t want to talk to the moment you get into your apartment complex. You hear your name from a shrill voice and cringe internally.
“Hello, Mrs. Ellis!” You say cheerily and pour all your fake happiness into your words. You wave ‘happily’ to the old woman outside on the bench near your building. She’s knitting something that looks vaguely like a scarf? She had made you something last year for Christmas, and you had just given it to Al as a plaything because it was so itchy.
Of course, you didn’t tell her.
“How are you doing, dearie? Are you eating well enough?” She asks, and you nod, pointedly ignoring the fact that you still didn’t have groceries for the week. She didn’t need to know too much. She already knew way more than she let on, and you blamed it on your ability to never shut up when you were nervous.
But she didn’t need to know that either.
You make aimless small talk for a few minutes until you are positively dying to go upstairs and see your beloved cat. Al’s probably getting close to yowling at the empty apartment by now, and you can’t afford another noise complaint.
“I really gotta get upstairs, Mrs. Ellis. Al’s waiting for me and all. I need to give him his daily treats, y’know?” You say quickly, and the woman nods happily, curls bouncing, before returning to her knitting.
Your assumption was correct. You could hear Al screeching his lungs out like a child possessed as you made it to the third floor of your apartment building. However, he quiets down when he inevitably hears your keys jingling in the lock. The second the door is open, you can hear his heavy paws on the floor as he tries to get out and see what you have. So, you stick your foot in the crack to stop him, nudging him back with your toes as you squeeze in through the door.
The little (big) bobtail cat chirps, meows, and weaves between your legs as if trying to trip you. He can surely smell the treats in your grocery bag and, despite already being rather hefty, is begging for more.
“I know, I know, I’m coming!” You say to your cat and set the bag on the countertop in the kitchen. Al doesn’t bother trying to jump up; he’s too heavy for that. And while you had tried several times to put him on a diet, it never seemed to stick.
It was clear that Al had you wrapped tightly around his paw.
But it was a routine you enjoyed, and routines were good, so you really didn’t complain too much.
Your routine was obliterated that next week.
And it all started with a knock on the front door.
You look up from your Nintendo Switch from your parents and frown, pausing your game and heading toward the entrance of your humble abode. Al was hot on your heels, his collar jingling as you opened the front door.
“Mrs. Ellis? How can I help you?” You say hesitantly and yelp as she pushes something into your hands. Your heart sinks as you look at what she has given you.
It’s another scarf.
By the looks of it, it’s the one she was knitting last week. It’s horribly long and rather lopsided, with horrible colors of yellow and green that burn your retinas.
“Just a gift for you, dearie! For always working so hard!” She chirps and abruptly leaves you alone in the doorway.
You look down at your feline companion, who is on his back, batting at the end of the scarf. He trills and chuffs as he plays with the long knitted garment.
“Well, Al… looks like you have a new toy.” You mutter and shut the door.
That evening, you get another knock on the door. You look back up from your Nintendo Switch—you hadn’t moved since you sat down—and grimace. Two people at your door in one day? It could only be your landlord. Maybe you had gotten a noise complaint that you didn’t know about? You glance at your snoozing feline wrapped in his newest toy and shrug.
Hopefully, it wasn’t a burglar or worse. Your landlord. Or even worse than that, Mrs. Ellis with yet another scarf.
It’s none of the above.
You open your front door just a crack and come face to face with a chest. You blink and look up.
Styled blond hair, gray eyes hidden behind sunglasses, dressed in a white suit, purple button-down, and matching tie. He’s handsome, exceptionally so. And looks to be around your age, too. You feel your ears burn and your heart speed up.
Calm down! He was way out of your league anyway!
Besides… You shift your gaze and realize the man isn’t alone. A woman and a child are with him. The woman has dark skin and beautiful golden eyes. She’s dressed in a fuchsia coat with a fur trim. The boy wears a button-down and bow tie with shorts, suspenders, and loafers.
What an… odd group of people…
“Uh… Can I help you?” You hesitate before remembering your manners at the last second. The man dips his head as if tipping an imaginary hat, and his lips quirked into a dashing smile.
“Good evening, ma’am. My name is Jack Simon. Might we come inside?” His accent is incredibly attractive, and you feel your ears burning again.
But… You don’t know any of these people… So you close the door just a smidge. Jack Simon’s smile falters just the tiniest bit.
“Why should I? I don’t even know who you are.” You say, and the woman chuckles,
“She’s got you there.” She turns her attention to you and grins, “My name is April. This is July. We’re here on official business from MI6. We’re hoping to speak to you about a neighbor in your complex?” She says kindly, and you mentally take note of their strange names and open the door a crack.
“Which neighbor? There are like fifty in this building alone.” You say skeptically and narrow your eyes when Jack Simon reaches into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a photo.
Is that…?
“It’s been some time since this picture was taken, but do you know—”
“That’s Mrs. Ellis.” You blurt, effectively cutting him off as you look at a photo of your much older-looking neighbor. The picture looked like it was taken about sixty years ago when she was in her mid-teens. But the slope of her nose was the same, as was the shape of her eyes.
Jack raises an eyebrow.
“Does she have a first name?” At this, you shrugged and bent down to pick up Al, who had woken from his nap and was currently trying to escape. April lets out a quiet gasp of glee and lets go of July’s hand.
“Oh, look at the cute kitty! Might I ask their name?” She asks and extends her hand to let Al sniff. A deep rumbling purr is heard as she scratches under his chin. You let out a tight laugh.
He’s getting heavy.
“His name is Al Pawcino. He’s an eight-year-old bobtail and incredibly overweight, but we’re trying to work on that.” You say quickly, and she lets out a loud laugh.
“Al Pawcino! You’re kidding!” Jack tries to step in, but you are emboldened by the interest in your feline friend.
“Al Pacino was my dad’s favorite actor.” You say, and even July steps forward to pet Al. His eyes creep you out a bit. They’re blank and empty like that of a doll.
“If we could get back on track, please,” Jack says, exasperated, and you nod.
“I don’t know her first name. I'm pretty sure she doesn’t know mine, either. She lives… actually, I don’t know where she lives in this complex. She mainly sits downstairs and knits.” You reply and shift Al in your arms.
You were starting to babble again.
Jack raises an eyebrow.
“Knits?” You frowned and nodded again, setting Al down and retrieving the new scarf on the hook by your door. Al tries to escape, so you nudge him back with your foot and step outside so you can shut the door behind you.
“Sure, all the time. Here, I’ll show you, they’re kind of bad, though. Al plays with the other one.” You say and hand him the horrendous article of clothing.
The man studies the knitted fabric and then to you.
“Do you know why she gave this to you?” He asks, and you shrug,
“She said she gave me this one because “I’ve been working so hard.”” You reply, and he hums before folding up the ‘scarf’ and tucking it into his trouser pocket.
It bulges awkwardly, but you don’t have the heart to tell him as you just let out an indignant cry,
“Hey! What are you doing?!” He looks pointedly over his sunglasses (who even wears sunglasses at night?), and your mouth snaps shut.
“We have reason to believe that she is not who she says she is. This scarf is evidence.” He says curtly, and just like that, the odd little trio left you alone outside your apartment.
You watch them leave, and when they descend the stairs, you turn and go to open the front door.
Only to find that it’s locked.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
The next time you see the mysterious Jack Simon is just the following week. He doesn’t have April with him, which is odd. Even with your brief first encounter, you had the feeling they were always around each other.
One hand is occupied with his cell phone, which is pressed to his ear. The other holds July’s hand. The doll-like boy simply stands there on the street corner with Jack and watches the world pass by.
You gulp down the last of your coffee at the café and head out, having already paid for your drink.
What are you doing?
Surely you aren’t—
“Mr. Simon! July!” You find yourself saying, and they both turn to look at you, almost in unison. You offer a friendly smile that you hope doesn’t look too awkward and come to a stop before them. Jack says a quick goodbye and ends his call, smiling that same dashing smile as before.
Again, you can feel your heart speed up.
He says your name, and you duck your head in greeting.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He says, and you fall in stride beside him and his… friend? Son? Acquaintance?
“Likewise, can I ask how your investigation is going?” You ask, and he pulls down his sunglasses to wink,
“That is confidential information, ma’am.” He quips, and you roll your eyes.
“I’m part of the investigation, right? Surely I can be told something.” You ask, unsure of where this excitement about the investigation into Mrs. Ellis is coming from. She was a bit obnoxious even though she meant well. But Al didn’t like her, so by proxy, you didn’t either. So, by all means, you shouldn’t have cared about what happened to her.
But there was something about this mysterious Jack Simon man that wanted you to keep him talking. He had a voice as smooth as silk that made tingles go from the tips of your ears down to your toes.
Said man sighed, looked both ways, and as the light signifies that you could walk, the three of you started crossing the street.
“I suppose you can know a little…” He muses and smiles as you give a quiet cheer. “But not here. We need to be away from prying eyes.” He continued quickly, and you blinked several times in confusion.
Just what was he about to tell you?!
The car you’re in has blackened windows and heated leather seats. The driver is separated by glass and keeps his eyes on the road. Save for the size, this seems more like a limo than anything.
“Might I offer you a sparkling water?” Jack says and you lurch awkwardly as you get buckled.
“Uh… No thanks… I’m not the biggest fan of fizz.” You say, and Jack shrugs, taking one for himself before closing the center console that held the drinks. He raps on the glass separating you and the driver, and the car rumbles into motion.
“Now… What to tell you about the case?” Jack mutters to himself. You glance at him from where you had been looking out the window. He sat across from you, with July at his side. The little boy was watching you, hands folded neatly in his lap.
He kind of gave you the creeps… He was so… doll-like…
“What do you know about Contractors?” Jack says abruptly, and you startle slightly. Then you frown.
“What like construction contractors?” You reply, and he shakes his head.
“I mean the ones that appeared when Hell and Heaven’s Gate appeared ten years ago.”
A shiver ran down your spine at that.
You had heard whispers. People talking in hushed voices over coffee about speculations about people with supernatural powers. About Dolls with no emotions who could see you through their medium.
Wait a minute…
Your eyes narrow at Jack Simon and his mysterious child acquaintance, July.
“Are you a Contractor?” You ask hesitantly, and his eyebrows shoot up.
“What makes you say that?” He asks, but his tone has changed. Something icy cold, like frost glazing over a window and dropping the temperature. You can’t help but shudder.
“Your vibes. And July, too. I’ve heard about Dolls, and it makes sense that he’d be one of them.” You say, and Jack Simon stares blankly for a moment.
Then he begins to laugh.
A deep body-shaking laugh that has him covering his mouth. You feel your face heat up.
Eventually, Jack gets his emotions under control and takes a deep breath.
“You’ve got me. July is a Doll. I’m a Contractor. April is as well.” He says, and you freeze.
“But I thought Contractors worked for the black market? You said you worked for the United Kingdom and MI6!” You blurt, and he nods his head to the side,
“Not all Contractors work for the black market. Many work for corporations like PANDORA or secret services like MI6.” He explains, and you hum.
“So you’re like a super secret spy?” You say, almost teasing, and he chuckles at that, making your heart stutter for the umpteenth time that day.
You like the sound of his laugh.
It is then that you remember why you’re in the darkened car in the first place and snap your fingers.
“Mrs. Ellis! Why are you investigating her, and what does she have to do with Contractors?” You say, and Jack grins,
“Why, she’s a Contractor herself.”
You choke on your saliva and erupt into a coughing fit.
“She’s a what?!” You gasp as soon as your hacking subsides. Jack shrugs, adjusting his violet tie.
“MI6 has reason to believe she’s a part of an enemy organization. We don’t know her power, only that she’s encoding messages in her knitting.” A jolt runs through you.
Her knitting?
“But why give it to me?” You ask, almost scared of the answer. Jack glances out the window as buildings pass briefly before looking back to you.
“To hide her messages? Who knows. But—”
A phone goes off, playing a jaunty little tune, and he whips out his cellular device.
“Talk to me.” He says, and you hear someone female speaking on the other end. Maybe April? She chatters on momentarily, with Jack humming to show he was listening. But it isn’t long before he hangs up and looks at you seriously. All traces of his sense of humor were gone.
“It seems someone has broken into your apartment.”
Your apartment had been ransacked.
The dining table was overturned, and the chairs were pushed up against the wall. Your bedroom had been ripped apart, and drawers from your dresser were thrown about. Hell, they had even gutted your mattress!
Al squeezed himself out from under your bedframe the second he heard your voice. He came yowling down the hall and cannonballed into your legs, causing you to stumble back against the ever-so-sturdy Jack Simon. He holds July’s hand as you scoop up Al and make your way into your abode in a daze.
The remaining scarf is gone.
As is your Nintendo Switch.
And your journal.
And probably something else, but you don’t care to check. How had no one heard the noise? The walls were thin enough that the floorboards creaking could be heard next door.
April is already there as well. She looks at you sympathetically, pulling you into a one-sided hug.
“Don’t worry, love. We’ll find out who did this.” She says, and you snort.
“It was Mrs. Ellis’s “enemy organization” wasn’t it?” You mumble, and April looks at Jack sharply.
“Just how much did you tell her?” She inquired, and Jack shrugs,
“She’s very persuasive.” That is all he says.
July approaches you as Jack steps out to make a call, and you sink onto your gutted couch with Al still in your arms. Tears start to burn your eyelids, and you bury your face in Al’s fur as July begins to pet his head.
“What do I do now? I can’t stay here, can I?” You mumble to April, who has taken a seat across from you, dragging one of the chairs over to sit down and cross one leg over the other.
“Most likely not. That’s what Jack is calling about. We can house you at an MI6 safehouse in the area.” She said, and you nodded with a sniffle.
At least you have that going for you. Jack comes back into your apartment and surveys the room.
“The car is still waiting outside. Pack a bag.” He says, and it spurs you into action.
You hand off Al to July, whose expression doesn’t change but seems happy to hold the overweight cat nonetheless. Then, you head to your destroyed bedroom and track down a duffel bag you had purchased when you swore you were going to start going to the gym.
Ha, that didn’t last long.
Clothes are stuffed in the bag, and you also pack some of Al’s toys and treats and pull out an unopened bag of food. It should last you a month or so. After all, you aren’t sure how long you’d be staying at this supposed safehouse.
Al is corralled into his carrier and then, you are all loaded into the car and off to the next destination.
Weeks pass.
The safehouse is secure, and Al acclimates easily enough. He happily thunders through the halls after jingle balls that July tosses for him. However, you don’t acclimate as quickly.
You’re left with nightmares of people breaking in to murder you, and the tiny little safehouse does nothing to quell your fears. It’s all cement walls and cold floors. Your room is barely big enough for a twin-size bed and a dresser. There’s a crack in the window that lets in the frigid air at night, and the dining table is barely big enough for the four of you.
Not that the four of you eat together or something. Both Contractors and July are rarely home. Well… that isn’t entirely true. Usually, April is home with you while Jack Simon is out doing who knows what with the Doll.
April wouldn’t tell you what they were doing. She just said it was ‘reconnaissance’.
But things change three weeks into your little hiding stint.
You look up from the book April had lent you as Jack and July come in through the front door. July looks as bored as ever but makes a beeline for Al, who perks up at the sight of his friend. Jack, however, seems stressed. He holds an envelope in his hand, running his other hand through his hair and mussing it up.
It looks… really good like that.
“Any news?” April asks, and Jack simply tosses the envelope and collapses onto the sofa next to you, kicking his feet up in what seems like relief. His head leaned back, and you quickly looked back at your book before he could catch you staring.
“Read the envelope.” He grunted, exhaustion thick in his voice. April shrugs and opens the envelope.
You set your book down in interest as her eyebrows shoot up, and she looks vaguely alarmed. Well, as alarmed as a Contractor can look, you suppose.
“Is this real?” She asks, and Jack lolls his head to the side to look at his companion.
“Took it right out of Ellis’s mailbox. So, unless they planted it—which there might be a chance of that—it’s real.” He said, and you held out a hesitant hand.
“Can I see?” You ask, and April hands you the envelope and contents.
You stare blankly at the glossy piece of parchment. It’s an… invitation? The paper is shiny and black, with neat writing in gold lettering. There’s a time, a place, and Mrs. Ellis’s name—which her first name is apparently Ava—all embossed on the front.
It looked ridiculously expensive.
“And this is important… Why?” You ask, confused and more than a little worried. Jack finally sits up and plants his feet on the floor,
“It’s a gala. And Ellis is likely to be there. But there’s an issue. And that’s because this organization—and Ellis by proxy—already knows April’s face, which is why she’s been here with you.” He said, rubbing a hand down his face. It was as if a lightbulb went off in your mind,
“So you don’t have a partner to get inside, do you?” You say, and Jack nods an affirmative. April pipes up then,
“She could go with you.” She says and gestures to you. You blink dumbly before it registers just what she has said.
Go with Jack Simon to a gala?
“Absolutely not!” You and Jack say in unison, and it would’ve been funny had you not panicked at the idea. Though you are panicked likely for a different reason than Jack. April throws her hands up,
“She’s perfect! No one at this organization knows her face!” She tries, and you are already shaking your head.
“Mrs. Ellis knows my face! Won’t she be there?” You say, and April visibly pauses before her shoulders slump.
Jack, however, seems to be considering the idea despite the outburst. You jab a finger at him in your panic,
“Absolutely not!”
“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” You grumble, fussing with the strands of hair hanging by your ears. The rest of your hair has been swept up into an elegant chignon at the back of your head. Jack reaches over and moves your hands away from your face.
“Stop touching it. You look stunning.” He says, and you have to turn your head to hide your embarrassment.
He looks handsome, almost excessively so. Dressed in a pitch-black suit with a plum tie and matching pocket square, he might as well have been a statue at a museum for people to ogle at. You were dressed in a matching plum dress with a low back and cascaded to the floor of the car. The windows were tinted black as always, and you were pretty sure it was the same driver chauffeuring you everywhere.
The two of you looked for all the world like a couple.
“Have you arrived yet?” April’s voice crackles to life in your left ear, and it takes all your power not to flinch. She’s just outside the gala event with July, keeping an eye with the Doll’s spectre and the earpiece hidden masterfully in your ear. Jack wasn’t able to have one on account of his shorter hair, so it was up to you to relay any information he or she told you.
“Not yet. Almost.” You said it, and it was then that the vehicle rolled to a stop. You looked out the window to see couples walking into a large building where the gala was supposedly held.
You suddenly felt very underdressed despite your extravagant gown.
Jack got out of the car first and extended a hand to you, which you took. His hands were smooth and cold as they always seemed to be. But he was strong and steady as a rock as you stood and settled your hand on his arm. He leaned down until his lips brushed your ear,
“Smile, darling, we’re on camera.” He whispered, and you shivered.
Did he know the effect he had on you?
He had to. You were rubbish at hiding it. Hell, even April had picked up on it and teased you about your little (ginormous) crush when doing your hair.
The two of you make it to the doorman, who accepts your (fake) invitation without any issues, and you are allowed inside.
It’s very quickly that you have to refrain from gasping at the sheer size and magnificence of the interior. There’s a massive crystal chandelier in the center of the ceiling, surrounded by murals of angels and demons and everything in between. Couples are already mingling and dancing on the dance floor, and a small string orchestra is set up in the corner, playing soft music. There are tables with white tablecloths set up around the dance floor where more couples and potential donors are chatting.
Jack leads you to the dancefloor,
“Shall we dance?” He asks, and you can’t bring yourself to say no.
But it isn’t long until you realize you are very out of your comfort zone. You step on Jack’s feet at least twice before he speaks to you again,
“Keep your eyes on me. Let me lead. There’s a good girl.” He murmurs, and you nod, keeping your eyes up and focused on his face. He offers you a charming grin that has your heart thundering in your chest.
“The target has been spotted. She’s on the second floor.” Comes July’s voice in your ear,
That was quick.
You start gently steering Jack toward the spiral staircase leading up to the second floor.
“July found Mrs. Ellis. She’s on the second floor.” You whisper to your dance partner, and he nods without a word, effortlessly taking the reigns of the dance until you leave the floor and make a subtle beeline for the staircase. But of course, you have to make it look natural, so you stop and socialize when the situation calls for it.
“She’s headed toward the server room,” July says again. So, you relay that information to Jack, who takes the initiative and seems to know where he’s going. Or, at the very least, he’s walking with the confidence to make people believe he knows where he’s going.
The server room is the third door on the right after rounding a corner in the maze of hallways. Your heels are thankfully muffled by the carpet, but you also have to keep a hand on Jack’s arm to keep from toppling over.
“Why did April talk me into these death traps.” You mutter under your breath and hear Jack let out a breathy laugh,
“If it’s any consolation, you look lovely.” He replies, and you roll your eyes to hide how your heart has leaped into your throat.
“So you’ve said.”
Mrs. Ellis is hunched over a computer, typing at blinding speeds for a seventy-something-year-old woman. She’s dressed in a turtleneck gown with long sleeves and a thumb drive stuck into one of the servers, which looks very expensive.
“I thought you’d have more tact than immediately heading to the server room,” Jack quipped from the entrance, and both you and Mrs. Ellis jumped.
Why was he talking now?! Shouldn’t you have snuck up on her?!
“I danced with a few strapping young gentlemen!” She defended herself without turning and pressed a button. All the lights go out, and you can hear screams of surprise from downstairs. Mrs. Ellis turns and begins to glow blue.
So she was a Contractor…
What was her power? Her arm shoots to an impossibly long length and wraps around your throat, dragging you across the floor until she has you in a chokehold against her torso. Her other arm snatches the thumb drive and stuffs it down the front of her dress for safekeeping.
“Elasticity. Now, that’s a Contract you don’t see every day.” Jack says, but you’ve spent enough time with him to hear the tightness in his voice.
He’s worried about you.
He takes a step closer, and Mrs. Ellis’s arm tightens around your throat until you gasp for air.
“Any closer, and I snap her neck.” Mrs. Ellis snarls, and Jack stops. You can see the lines around his eyes, illuminated by the lights of the blinking servers.
Then… He starts to glow… That pale blue glow with red glowing eyes that you now associated with all Contractors.
Right… You forgot he was a Contractor, too.
It seemed that Mrs. Ellis was not privy to this information because she backed up a bit, and you could hear the panic in her voice when she spoke next. He begins to walk forward and she is too panicked to follow through on her threat.
“Wait—Who are you?! Not the CIA?!” Jack grinned, and you cringed.
It looked so… sinister…
“Darling, I’m November 11 from MI6.” He said proudly, and by then, he was in front of you, grabbing ahold of her coiled arm around your neck. You watch as the skin darkens and frost creeps over the palm and fingers.
It’s getting cold.
Freezing even.
Soon, you hear a wheezing, rattling gasp behind you, and Mrs. Ellis literally shatters into frozen pieces.
Well, that didn’t take long.
You all but collapse with a choked inhale into Jack Simon’s—or is it November 11?—arms.
“Are you alright, love?” He asked, and you shook your head.
“I could’ve died. What do you think?” You snap, instantly feeling bad but also not caring.
He put you in danger.
You.
A civilian.
A regular human.
Someone who had a pet waiting for them at home.
Jack sighed, pulled you upright by wrapping a cold arm around your shoulders, and together, you started walking toward the server room exit. However, instead of bringing you back to the car, he took you to one of the balconies that dot the exterior of the second floor. You lean on the stone railing and rub at your still-tender throat. A cold breeze sweeps through the gardens, and you begin to tremble and cry.
You could have died.
What would’ve happened to Al had you actually died? Would he be given to the shelter? He wouldn’t be adopted. No one would want an overweight bobtail cat who was getting older and was as cantankerous as they came.
A suit jacket was draped over your shoulders, and you look over to see Jack, a lit cigarette between his lips and a sad sort of look on his face.
“I’m sorry.” He says around the cigarette, and you shrug,
“I agreed to this.” You reply, and he shakes his head,
“We more or less coerced you into it. And for that I’m sorry.” He says, and you give a watery laugh,
“Well then, I accept your apology. Thank you.”
The mission is wrapped up without any further issues. Jack, April, and July are summoned back to MI6 headquarters. You were gifted a brand new apartment with a few months off rent as a thanks for your contributions and an apology for the danger you were put in.
Part of you wonders if it’s Jack’s doing. You had a feeling that MI6 wasn’t usually this generous.
Either way, you weren’t complaining.
The trio is kind enough to help you move what’s left of your old apartment out of storage and into the new place. July isn’t much help, but he keeps Al occupied, and that’s all you could ask for.
“Will you be alright?” April asks as you heft the last box onto your newly assembled dining table. You turn and smile at her,
“I’ll be fine. Tell your boss thank you for all of this.” You say, and she cackles,
“You have Jack to thank for all of this. It was his idea.” She replies, and you blink.
So you were right!
Jack peeks his head out of the new guest bedroom where he had been building a bed frame.
“Are you telling her all of my secrets?” He teases, and April sticks her tongue out,
“Only because we love you!” She chirps, and you choke on the water in your mouth.
Love huh?
You actually liked the sound of that.
April decides to track down Al and July, leaving you alone with Jack. You meander your way into the guest bedroom, where Jack is lifting the mattress onto the box spring on the bed frame.
“And done!” He says, wiping the sweat off his brow and turning to see you. You grin at him and reach forward boldly to squeeze his hand.
“Thank you. For everything, I mean. Keeping me safe. All of it.” You say, and he dips his head in what you like to imagine is embarrassment.
“Don’t mention it.” He replies and squeezes your hand back.
The room is silent after that, but you don’t let go, and neither does he.
At least… Until…
“I should really get going. We received another mission this morning, and our flight will leave soon.” He says and your smile drops into a sad sort of quirk of your lips.
“Keep in touch, yeah? Come visit when you’re in the area.” You try, and he huffed a laugh.
“Of course.” He says and lets go of your hand.
You hold Al as Jack Simon, July, and April get into the darkened car on the street. Jack paused before he got in, turned to look up where you were standing, and waved. You waved back as best you could with Al in your arms and smiled until they were out of sight. Then, with a sigh, you head back inside to get Al some dinner.
You only wished you knew you’d never see them again.