VANESSA

After the movie, we talk for a while, and everyone goes to their rooms except Ethan. He stays back because I insist that I'm not leaving until he lets me give him a mental health assessment.

Him and I are leaning against the couch's armrests and facing each other. Our legs are tangled together under a blanket, and I have my file resting in my lap.

His lips curve upwards. "We really have to do this now?"

"Yeah." I tell him. "We can't put it off any longer. Plus, what's it going to hurt?"

He sighs. "Okay. I'm guessing you want to start off from my childhood..."

I nod with a gentle smile as he continues. "Well, I had a pretty normal childhood compared to everyone else. I went to school, got dropped off at daycare, had a sister to hangout with..."

I nod. "Both your parents worked?"

"Yeah. They loved us, but they didn't have much time to show us. They both work in the CIA." He tells me. "Jerome was always there for us, though."

Sounds like that's a reoccurring theme: Jerome being the steady rock for all of the team but me.

"Was your sister... always blind?" I question, honestly wanting to know the answer.

Ethan shifts his weight. "No, she wasn't. She became blind after my whole family was taken hostage and tortured for information."

I stare at him, his gray eyes softly peering back into mine. I say, "Was that the time that your back was burned?"

"Yeah, but the CIA came after their agents and saved us from that hell." He informs me. 

He hesitates. Then he says, "They inspired me to want to be in the CIA. When those men came in and gave me hope, I wanted to do the same for others."

I jot down this information, giving him time to sort out his thoughts before I ask another question. "You said your whole family was tortured?"

"Yep." He says with the shake of his head. Fog rolls over his eyes and I can tell he's being sent back to the memory of the torture.

"What happened?" I pry.

"My father was electrocuted, mom raped, sister blinded..." He tells me, gaze lost. His lips create a firm line, his jaw working. "And you know what? When the agents came in and shot the men who tortured us, I thought they got off too easily."

I write that down, and Ethan blinks. He says, "And after that, our lives changed, my sister's more than any of ours. She became someone new. We weren't kids anymore."

I remain silent as he blinks a few more times. After a minute or two, I reply. "How did your parents handle it?"

"They divorced." He explains with a furrowed brow. "Fell out of love and into a blame war. But, I guess blaming someone helps people cope with bad situations sometimes."

What he says reminds me of Ajax, creating room for a new conversation. "So, you grew up and made this team?"

"I don't really like taking the credit." He informs me. "It was Jerome's idea. I just helped him a bit."

"Okay." I shrug. "Then, what do you take credit for?"

He laughs. "Um, I guess keeping us together."

"I can see that." I reply. "Any of the team members have disputes?"

"Oh, yeah." He grins. "I am pretty sure Drake has had a falling out with every single one of us at least three or four times. But, that's what he does. He pushes people away when they get close."

"Don't you think that's exactly what you tried to do earlier today?" I ask him with narrowed eyes.

He glances at me and nods slowly. "That was for your own benefit. I didn't want you to get hurt."

"That's probably what Drake thinks he is doing when he pushes people away as well, don't you think?" I query softly. "I mean, he thinks he isn't good enough for love, and he's scared he'll be destructive to others, so he pushes them away."

Ethan pauses a moment. "Yeah... That sounds about right."

"And what do you think of Drake's want for pushing people away?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"That it's bullshit." He grins, glaring into my knowing eyes. "Yeah. Okay. I see what you're saying."

I can't help but smile at him. "Yeah, well, you realize now that pushing me away would be a mistake anyway, right?"

He nods. "Definitely."

I think back to earlier, us skin on skin. Then, we were vulnerable, and for some reason, I feel that we're just as vulnerable right here talking.

We sit in silence for a moment until I say, "So, tell me more about what you give yourself credit for."

"What?" His eyebrows drop. "I already told you..."

"Keeping the band together is the only thing you give yourself credit for?" I nearly lose my marbles.

"I mean, yeah." His words poison the air and cause a frown to surface on my lips. "Why?"

"You should be given more credit, E." I explain smoothly. "I mean, what about all those successful missions, huh?"

"We worked together." He says shortly.

"Yeah, but you lead them." I remind him. "You made sure your plans weren't faulty, and you made sure they were carried out the right way. I mean, without you, your team wouldn't be able to function."

"Oh," He chuckles, and I cringe. "I doubt that."

"Ethan," My words catch in my throat. I have to take a second to calm myself. "You need to give yourself more credit."

"We all share the credit." He says, rubbing the back of his head.

"No. You're giving your team most of the credit, and you, none." I say, and he doesn't argue. "What about the mistakes? Who takes the fall for them?"

"Well, when mistakes are made, I allowed them to happen, so I take the fall." He says after a moment of hesitation. His gray eyes are cloudy, his gaze distraught.

"You take the fall for every single mistake?" I query, imagining how much weight he must wear on his shoulders every day.

His lips fold into his mouth. "It's my duty as a leader to take care of my team."

"E, you can't do that to yourself." I pity him and all of the weight on his shoulders. "What about when I was first kidnapped and nearly froze? You think that was your fault?"

"It was." He says.

"It wasn't." I shake my head. "And the time you and I were kidnapped because of the thing that went down in DC?"

"My fault." He says without hesitation.

"That couldn't have been your fault. You did everything you were supposed to do." I explain. "And what about Felix, huh?"

"I was distracted. I was supposed to be by his side." He responds.

"Ethan, there was no way you could've known what was going to happen." I nearly shed a tear. "What about Nick? Do you blame the thing that went down with Nick on yourself?"

"Yeah. V, you could've died..." His voice trails off.

"Do you hear yourself?" My voice rises, and I have to bring it back down in order not to get everyone else's attention in the apartment. "I mean, no leader should have to carry all the weight of the world on his shoulders. You shouldn't take the fall for everything. Why not blame the bad guys for the bad things that happen? Why not give yourself some credit? At least sometimes?"

Ethan stares at me for a moment, his gray eyes contemplating. "I don't know. My... My gut tells me it's my fault... And it is."

"It's not." My voice is as soft as a cloud as it floats over to him. "Please don't blame yourself for every little thing. You're not the only one who makes choices. Or mistakes."

He shrugs. "The captain always goes down with the ship."

"The captain doesn't carry the damn ship." I point out. "The captain guides everyone. He helps everyone. He makes mistakes sometimes, but he learns from them and deals with them. He doesn't let them sit on his shoulders and weigh him down."

Ethan peers over at me with a funny look in his eyes. "You know, that's a really good analogy."

"Yeah, well my point is good as well." I tell him with a smile. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah," He moves and gets comfortable in a different position. "But,it's harder than you think. I can't just brush things off like they don't matter. I mean, I act like I do, but things stick to me. It's hard not blaming myself. Who else is there to blame?"

"Let's see..." I say shortly. "You can blame the people who kidnapped me... The people who took us hostage... The woman who shot Felix... And fucking Nick. Blame them, E."

Ethan lets out a huff, and he scoots forward, leaning his head back on the armrest. I watch his expression form a grimace, his eyes shutting. He sniffles, and I wonder for a moment if he is going to cry.

"You're right." He says while he lets out a breath. "I'll try to be better, but there's no promises."

My heart lifts. "You mean that?"

He tilts his head up so that I can meet his gaze. "Yeah. I'll try to let more things go."

"Good." I reply.

There's a few moments where we just glance at each other in remain in silence. Then, I ask him, "Did you like Mr. and Mrs. Smith?"

He shrugs, but he has a smile on his face. "It's a little unrealistic, but yeah."

I roll my eyes. "Do you see why I found our aliases so funny?"

"Yeah." He chuckles. "You know, you looked just as hot as Angelina Jolie in that red dress you wore that night."

My face grows hot as I blush. "I don't know about that."

"Hey, you don't give yourself enough credit." He mocks me, and I nudge him with my foot.

"Shut up before I pull an Angelina and go crazy on you." I warn, but his grin grows.

He makes me laugh when he says, "You know, I might like that."

--

I sit inside Jerome's empty office with Ethan's file in my hand, thinking about how the mental health assessment ended. I mean, it ended well enough, but we stopped on the topic of my father.

He said something about forgiveness, and I left. I left on a good note, but he got me thinking. Will I ever be able to forgive Jerome for walking out of my life?

I sigh. I don't think I ever will. And, I don't think he's even asked for forgiveness for that anyway.

"Hey, there." The man himself walks through the door, heading straight for his desk. I remain quiet until he plops down in his chair and scoots up to the desktop.

"Here." I hand over the mental health assessment, and then I rise to my feet. "I plan on getting Felix's mental health assessment later today, after their mission."

"Good." He says, and I make my way toward the door. He stops me, though, by saying, "Vanessa, I have news."

I turn, gazing into his brown eyes. He continues. "Since you're part of the team, you have to get a mental health assessment done as well."

"What?" My heart pivots.

"Yeah. I'll inform the rest of the team." He tells me. "I'm thinking that they could do the assessment. Does that sound good?"

I clear my throat, imagining all of their eyes staring at me when they ask me questions. "I guess so."

I turn my back to him again, but the sound of his chair bouncing causing me to halt. I glance his way, noting that he is on his feet, moving toward me. He asks, "How are you doing, anyway?"

"I'm fine." I tell him. As I say those words, though, I recall the conversation Ethan and I had after the run-in with James after the DC auction. I said that "I'm fine" is always an understatement.

My father gazes into my eyes, so I decide to tell him the truth. "Actually, I'm doing better than fine, but I don't really want to get into it because of our past, Jerome."

His jaw clenches, his brown eyes softening. "Can we talk about our past?"

"Talk about it?" I frown. "We already have. Actually more than once."

"Well, I want to apologize." He says, shifting his weight uncomfortably. His brown eyes fall to the floor.

"For what?" I stare him down. "Leaving me? Because you couldn't apologize for that earlier."

"No. I can't apologize for leaving." He says softly. "But, what I do want to apologize for is not being the father or the man you needed me to be. I am truly sorry for that. You deserved better."

My breath catches in my throat, a lump forming. I don't know what to say back.

At first, I'm weary on believing him, but the sincerity that rings true in his tone and in his eyes has me doing a double take.

My heart skips a beat as I say, "Don't you think it's a little late to apologize to me?"

"Well, if you think it's too late, then go on." He tells me, gesturing to the door, frustrated.

I hesitate, my everything aching when I gaze into his sad brown eyes. My dignity, pride, and heart are on the line. I hold my breath. "I can't just forgive you. I mean, I won't let your one sentence erase all of the nights I spent crying with my mother over hardships without a father."

He sucks in a breath. "I know, I know. But, please. Let me make it up to you."

"That's impossible." Anger flushes in my words.

"Okay." He nods. "Then, let me make up to you anything I can because I am truly sorry for not being the father you needed."

He stands there before me with his arms wide open--figuratively--and the last thing I want to do is jump into them. There have been so many times I wanted those arms to be there, those hands to help me out when I needed it, but he wasn't there. He let me down countless times, and I can't do it. I can't forgive him. Not now. Not yet.

"I can't make any promises." I tell him as my eyes stare at the floor. "I can't say that our relationship is going to get better because truly I'm not sure if that's possible--if you can make up for the time you decided not to spend with me."

He bows his head. "Okay. I understand."

My heart twitches, urging me to say more, and that's exactly what I do. "But, father, I'll give you a chance."

He immediately peers up into my eyes, light shining through his gaze. He moves forward, his voice hopeful. "Would you? Please."

"One chance, dad." I say, hating the way my insides feel light and fluffy. "Don't waste it."

A huge grin spreads across his lips. "Would you like to get dinner sometime?"

I take a breath to calm myself down. I can't believe I'm doing this. "I would."

"Good." He nods happily. "Just let me know when you're free, honey."

"Nope." I shake my head and move toward the door. "Don't call me honey."

"Okay." He chuckles, his laugh being the last thing I hear on my way out of the CIA building.

---

It's after our mission and after dinner that I get Felix alone to complete the last mental health assessment. We decide to take a walk through the city, heading toward my apartment building from the restaurant where we had dinner.

I'm bundled up in one of my favorite white jackets as Felix wears a hoodie. The walking traffic is a little heavy on certain streets, so he laces his arm in mine, making our sleeves look sort of like a yin-yang symbol.

"So, where should we start?" He asks me. His file is in my purse hanging from my free arm, but I suppose I could do his mental health assessment without a pen and paper and jot down notes later from my memory.

"From the beginning." I tell him smoothly. "Just tell me about your childhood."

"Well, you already know about it." He shrugs. "Abusive father. Poor education. Got picked up by Jerome."

"Okay. Well, imagine that you and I are on a date for the first time and we barely know each other." I say to him casually. "What would you tell me about your childhood?"

He hesitates and actually ponders this question. "I guess I would say that I had a pretty crappy childhood that my brother helped me through."

"Tell me how he helped." I dodge someone who is running down the street, yanking Felix over to the slide slightly.

He sends the running guy a glance and then responds. "Well, he always took the fall when my dad got angry. He didn't want me to get hurt."

I nod slowly. "That's physically. What about emotionally?"

"He sat there and cried with me daily." He replies. "People would say that's unhealthy, but I don't view it that way. It was our outlet, and so was his hacking and my inventing."

"I see." My voice is as soft as my mushed heart. "So, tell me a little about yourself now. What's your favorite part about your job?"

"Ah..." His green eyes flicker. "Being with my brothers and being able to invent."

"What's your least favorite part of your job?" I say, causing him to clear his throat.

We both stop at the corner of a sidewalk, awaiting the green light of a walkway sign. He takes a second to tell me, "When things happen that my team can't control."

I wait for more, and he doesn't disappoint. "Like, the other day when I got shot. I mean, my team couldn't control that. But Drake got angry, Ethan felt the guilt, Tony was scared shitless, and my brother was ready to give up his life if mine wasn't included in his. I mean, I hate that with a passion."

I let out a shaky breath. "I get that."

"Yeah." He says. "So, getting shot wasn't the bad part. The backlash, the fear, the anger—that was the bad part."

I peer into his soft eyes, wondering how there's an angel like him on earth. I ask, "How have you been feeling recently?"

"Well the thing with Nick really sucked." He tells me with a shake of his head. "We didn't hesitate this time."

I tuck my lips in my mouth. "Sorry about that."

"Not your fault." He says dismissively. "What else is there to talk about?"

"Umm... I think we're pretty much done, unless you want to answer one more question." I explain as we near my apartment building.

"What is it?" He queries, gazing forward into the crowds of busy people.

"I'm just curious..." my voice trails off and catches Felix's attention. "Where do you see yourself in five years?"

"Right where I am." He hesitates only a moment. Along with his words, a shrug is displayed. "And if not, somewhere saving people. Or at least I hope."

"Felix..." I scoff, nudging him. "You're too perfect."

He blushes, smiling and bowing his head. "Oh, please."