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“Yeah. Apparently she only hit him twice. Both in the shoulder. Congratulations on not throwing him to his death, by the way.”
“It was a struggle,” Ella lied. “But I remembered what you told me. Don’t throw anyone off anything high.” Ella felt her phone buzzing but chose to ignore it. It was probably the director and he’d have to wait. She’d write up her reports as soon as she wasn’t buzzing with every medicine under the sun.
“You did well. But next time, just shoot him and be done, yeah?”
“I know, I know. It wouldn’t be an Ella and Ripley case without a little lecture now, would it?” she laughed.
“You got that right. But honestly, I get why you did it. I’d love to have punched him too.”
“You still can. No death penalty in West Virginia. He’s going to be in a cell for the rest of his life.”
An announcement told passengers for the one PM flight to Reagan International Airport will begin boarding in five minutes. The agents collected their things and held them in their laps, ready for the long journey home.
“No. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, you gotta let things go. Don’t dwell on these scumbags. A lifetime in jail is worth a thousand punches.”
Sound advice, she thought. “Put that on a t-shirt,” Ella said.
“Wisdom’s my thing. If you need any help writing up your reports, let me know. I’ve got nothing else to do when I get back.”
Ella couldn’t deny that her relationship with Ripley had been turbulent. They’d had more disagreements than she could count, even a brief rivalry at one point. Ella had seen herself as equally capable as the FBI legend sitting beside her, and that had stemmed heated arguments that left them exhausted, furious and neither of them parading the best versions of themselves.
It had taken a year, but Ella saw it was all from a place of love. Mia Ripley was a friend first, teacher second, and the two standings did not overlap well. When Ripley scolded her for not checking the corners or diving in recklessly or deserting her weapon, it was because she didn’t want to see her friend get killed.
Then there was this darkness Ripley always talked about. The growing darkness, the same darkness that had clouded many of Ripley’s own years. It wasn’t some outdated notion that had no place in the modern world as Ella wrongly believed. It was real.
Ella didn’t want to do it. She hated moments like these. But she owed it to her partner to show her gratitude.
“Mia,” she said. “Thank you for being by my side.”
Ripley looked at her partner like she was insane. “Don’t do it, Dark. Don’t get sentimental with me.”
Ella refused to accept the refusal. “I have to. You kept telling me about the void this job leaves in your heart. I thought it was nonsense. I thought I knew better. I didn’t. You were right.”
Ripley’s face lit up with a warm smile. “Well smack my ass. If it isn’t Miss Dark admitting I was right.”
“Drop it, woman. You know that’s exactly what you want to hear.”
Ripley shrugged off the compliment. She reached over and gave her partner a hearty hug. It stung Ella’s back but she didn’t care.
“Thanks, Dark. You might be a nerd, but you’re the shot in the arm the FBI needs. You’ve got everything you need to go far. I just want you to retire without a broken spine and more good memories than bad. Listen to me and that’s exactly what you’ll get.”
“I will. One day, I hope to be the next you. I don’t just mean the accolades or that massive house. I mean the heroism, the knowledge that I did what I could to make the world more bearable.”
Ripley wiped away a little tear. Ella had rarely seen the woman betray emotion before, even on the multiple times they saved each other’s life. This was new territory for both of them.
“Don’t be the next me,” Ripley said. “Be the first you.”
A serene tranquility settled between them. Both agents sat back, letting the silence do the rest of the talking. Ella always believed that true friends could sit in absolute silence without it being awkward. One year in, they’d reached that milestone.
Ella had one more thing to say. Something that she’d felt fraudulent holding back.
“Mia, want to hear something funny?”
“Always.”
“Remember when you said I was a literature fetishist?
“Yeah. You’re not?”
