Chapter Nine

Although there was a healthy mix between victory and defeat for us, Whiskey and I safely landed back in the United States to meet with the president back at the main headquarters in Lynchburg, Tennessee. I didn't know what to expect there, but all I knew was that I had to tell the president of my decision.

Was I going to go with him back to D.C to join the Secret Service, or was I going to stay here and work my way up in the Statesman?

It was a tough decision for me to make. One of the toughest I've ever had to make, as a matter-of-fact. Whiskey had changed me for the better and taught me a lot, including a lot of Statesman workings and life advice that rivaled that of my daddy. My daddy always gave the best advice that I still follow to this day, but Whiskey gave me advice that made me consider adjusting my morals. That has never happened to me before. I never considered changing my own moral creed all because someone so charming gave me solid advice.

That just goes to show how special Whiskey is to me.

It shows how specially made we are for each other.

As Whiskey and I strolled into the conference room, there were only a couple witnesses there. They were mostly agents that also worked for the Statesman. Agents that came from different parts of America. Agents that I had never even met before in my life. However, there were some familiar faces there, including Ginger Ale and the president.

"Before we get started, agents, I have someone I'd like to introduce you to," Whiskey spoke up. "The president and Ginger, who—as we know—is going to continue doing her intelligence work in D.C, already know her. I thought that it'd be nice to introduce this new agent before we move on with the proceedings the president has laid out for us today."

He inhaled and started to introduce me to the rest of the agents. "Gentlemen, this is Veronica Crawford, whose primary nickname is Rocky. While we're within these walls and through any walls belonging to the Statesman Agency, you will refer to her as…Agent Blackjack. She's known for her unpredictability, ruthlessness, and impeccable adaptability and grit in the field. I am proud to say that she is the newest agent to join the Statesman, and she is the first female to be out on the front lines, like us, in a long time."

Whiskey then turned to me and introduced me to all of the agents that had come today. "Blackjack, these are different agents of the Statesman. Their code names are all named after specialty alcoholic drinks. Tequila, Cognac, Rum…you get the point."

I nodded, acknowledging the presence of the agents that were there. "It's a pleasure to meet y'all."

"As I just announced recently, agents, the Secret Service and the Statesman will work closely with each other to ensure not only the protection of the president but also the American people," the president then said. "Agent Blackjack, here, has the opportunity to join the Secret Service. An opportunity that has since arisen once again a year after the tragic death of her twin brother. I am unsure if she'll take this opportunity, but it's still out there if she wants it."

There was a brief silence as I glanced over at Whiskey, who—despite the heartbreaking bombshell of this opportunity arising—kept his face as serious as can be. So straight, in fact, that I was impressed he could hold it for that long.

"Now, let's get to the real business of why I summoned all the Statesman agents here today," the president continued. "As we know, we've been continuously tracking a threat. A threat in the form of a monstrous terrorist known as Balor Devlin, who's caused chaos, destruction, and ruin in his warpath. Luckily, we sent two agents to go after him. Unfortunately, we were tricked. The man they managed to kill wasn't the real Balor. Instead, he's a clone that the real Balor created. The clone's purpose…to distract agencies like us while the real Balor continued on with his wicked ways in private. But all hope is not lost. In fact, what these two Statesman agents did helped us get closer to Balor, and without their work, we might not be closer to winning the war than we are at this point."

He paused to inhale and continue on with his speech. "And now, it is my distinct pleasure to present the Congressional Medal of Honor to two of the Statesman agents that laid their lives on the line to fight back against Balor Devlin. I'd like to gladly present these medals to Agents Whiskey and Blackjack. Congratulations, agents."

The others applauded as Whiskey and I casually strolled up to the president, who later placed these medals around our necks. As it went around our necks, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, despite not winning the war against Balor. We may have won the battle, but we haven't yet won the war.

* * * * * * * * * *

The black Motorcade drove up to the front of the agency, parking itself a few feet away from the front door. The other agents had already started departing back to their stationed locations, which spanned all across the United States. Whiskey and I, however, stood in the driveway, being allowed to say goodbye to one another before I went off to D.C.

"So I guess this is goodbye then?" Whiskey asked.

"For now," I answered in a hopeful tone.

Some tears started to roll down Whiskey's face, as I could feel his heart shatter all over again. I felt bad, especially considering that there wasn't anything I could do to make him better in this spur of a moment. As I placed a hand on his cheek, he leaned into my touch, acknowledging that I was trying to comfort him.

"I don't want you to leave," he said.

I fought back tears before speaking. This heartbreak pained Whiskey as much as it did me. "I can't turn back now, baby."

Both of us embraced each other tightly, not wanting to let each other go. I didn't want to leave him, even though this big opportunity awaited me. I had to do what was best for me, and I felt that this was the way to do that. Whiskey was the best thing to ever happen to me, and to let him go was like letting go a part of myself. Naturally, I started to cry because I knew my time with Whiskey was waning. It pained me so much to leave him.

"Promise me you'll keep in touch with me," I said through the heartsick tears.

Like he's done before, he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tears that soaked my cheeks.

"Of course, sugar. I'll talk to ya every day."

"Video chat?" I asked.

"Yes, with video chat," he confirmed, chuckling lightly.

He glanced down at my lips before meeting my eyes once again. Even though he didn't directly say it, I almost definitely knew that he was thinking about kissing me before I left.

"If I don't see this beautiful face every day, I'm gonna miss it. And I'm not even gonna consider missing ya, sugar."

"You better not miss me 'cause I'll miss ya more," I joked.

We shared a chuckle and made our shattered hearts heal just a bit. They weren't fully healed yet, but they were sent on the right path to such. Despite that fact, I don't know if my heart will ever heal from leaving Whiskey. He was the person that changed me for the better. The unexpected person that I didn't think would waltz right into my life like he did.

"I have to go," I regretfully said as the Motorcade honked its horn.

Whiskey's face dropped, his regret for me leaving becoming more evident. It pained him for me to leave, and I didn't want to. But this opportunity was too good to pass up, and I felt that I had to do what was best for me. Even though it pains me a lot, I had to do what was going to help with my future. A future that I secretly hoped had Whiskey in it.

Locking with my eyes one last time, Whiskey soon gently placed a soft kiss on the top of my forehead, holding it there longer than usual. I remained frozen in my place, not wanting to ruin this core memory that was being embedded into my brain. I could even feel it when one of Whiskey's tears rolled off his face and onto mine. Immediately, my stomach dropped like a balloon getting shot out of the sky. And with regret riddling me down to my bones, I turned to the Motorcade and started to walk toward it, our hands slowly drifting apart like they did in the operating room.

Before I could get even one foot away from Whiskey, he reached out and grabbed onto my wrist tightly with authority. I was very confused. If he wanted me to go, why did he grab my wrist like that?

Well, I quickly found out why.

He pulled me close to him, once again allowing me to feel every part of him once again. That familiar sense of security overwhelmed me, but it was in a way that could be considered the best way possible. Before I could even think about what to do next, Whiskey gently placed his hand on the side of my jaw and leaned in close for one more parting kiss. Time froze in its place, as I was swept off my feet in almost an instant. Now, an overwhelming part of me screamed at me, begging me not to leave Whiskey.

Don't leave him, that internal voice screamed. Don't do it. You'll regret for the rest of your life if you don't stay.

As tears streamed down my face, I eventually slid inside the Motorcade, joining the president for the journey back to D.C. Not being able to say goodbye to Whiskey quite yet, I rolled down the window and stuck my head and shoulders out, waving wildly to Whiskey, who was waving back and blowing me a kiss. Of course, I caught said kiss and continued to wave, despite crying incessantly.

"Don't worry, Whiskey. I'll be back," I shouted. "I love you!"

"I love you more," he shouted back.

The Motorcade drove away, and I soon lost sight of Whiskey. Now, a big feeling of regret washed over me, making me regret my decision to leave for D.C. Whiskey changed me for the better, and if I could ever return to him, I'll most definitely do it. I'll do whatever it takes in order to get back to him.