Even Lovers Drown CH 42

Jocelyn’s idea was risky and held no guarantees, but as she had argued - it was worth the try. She also explained her reasons why and once Fitz had heard it, he agreed to let her try.

She hadn’t realized until she saw the women onscreen that she knew them. Two of them had been working in other regions besides East Sudan for a number of years - one of them had been a CIA operative, but of course, she hadn’t known that.

It was the newest member and the youngest one of the women hostages that had caught her eye.

“I was so concerned with the overall safety and recovery of the entire group, that I overlooked these things.” she’d said in apology.  Fitz watched a Jocelyn had shook her head, angry with herself. “Unforgivable.”

It was one more in more than Fitz could count and he told her so. “That’s nonsense, Jocelyn. What matters is that you remembered now.”

What she had remembered was an email she’d gotten not too long ago. It had been a personal one, which is why she hadn’t realized what impact that it had had in their current endeavors.

The email had contained several faces in a video email from her past work - several women that she’d known -  all laughing and smiling and shouting. Another former aide worker had sent it to her - it was a celebration for that youngest woman - Jenny - who had just found out that she was pregnant.

The other fact was that the senior agent among them, also a woman - was of the old faith - the faith of the leadership of the East Sudanese Force.

Jocelyn only knew it because of a conversation that the two women had had long ago, when Jocelyn was still a very active envoy overseas. The woman had expressed her concern over being perceived as something other than the general American public perceived, and was wrestling with the necessity of keeping her faith secret. Talking with Jocelyn had helped, with her telling the other woman that keeping her faith between her and her God was always a private matter. As long as she prayed in her heart, He would see and hear.

She closed her eyes for a moment and said a little prayer of her own.

It had taken some doing; Jocelyn had spent the next two days with very little sleep, too busy to worry about such things. Even now, there was a chance that what she’d proposed might not succeed, but with the president giving her permission to proceed, she’d given it her all. Fitz could see the tiredness in her eyes, but he said nothing, recognizing that she wouldn’t want the concern.

Recognizing it because he’d seen it too many times in himself.

Finally, all of her hard work was about to be put into action.

Fitz, along with Cyrus and Jocelyn, were escorted deep within the lower levels of the Pentagon. Their destination was a communications room so deep and shielded so that no unauthorized transmissions could get in or out.

Once they had taken their seats, a technician entered the room; swiftly he set up the secured communication modules and just as quickly excused himself when his job was done.

They were alone. Fitz, Cyrus and Jocelyn.

She looked at the both of them. “This is the point of no- return, so I ask you formally - do I have your permission to move forward?”

Fitz nodded. He trusted her - he didn’t know why - but he trusted her.

Jocelyn nodded and dialed the number she’d been given.

Even with all of the reception assets in play, the acoustics were grainy.

Jocelyn began with several lyrical phrases, polite yet with no subservience in her tone, no doubt invoked to set the tone of the meeting.

Fitz knew that there were protocols, customs she was wise enough to follow, but his patience had already being stretched to the limit. The glance Jocelyn sent him told him that she knew it just as much as he did.

Jocelyn made a point to translate as she went, repeating everything their opponents spoke in English so that they would understand.

"You would punish the Children of the Book?" she said, and from there the battle was begun.

The voice that answered her was badly distorted by both distance and dialect. And very much offended by the fact that he was dealing with a woman of authority. When he would have objected, Jocelyn shut it down with a few sharp words.

“Why does your president allow you - a woman - to speak for him?”

“My president has given me a great trust - because I know your ways. He knows that I seek the path of peace. Ask of me among the people you know and of the time I spent in your lands and all will tell you the same.”

Fitz watched in growing admiration as she brought all of her diplomatic training to her fight. She diffused every argument, in many points turning their own words back on them, using custom, belief and their own sacred words to press forward towards their goal.

“It isn’t all of what we want, of course.” she had explained earlier. “But we may be able to get the women out.”

“That region is not known for their regard of women.” Cyrus had pointed out.

“True - but there’s a chance that if I can persuade them to follow some of the lesser known tenets of their own holy book, they may relent just enough for it to work.”

It was worth the risk, Fitz had decided. If they could get them to release the women, it opened the door for the release for the others.

Now it seemed as though it might be working.

“America is a land of many faiths - including many of your own land - would you execute those as well?” Jocelyn was saying.

“Why should we believe anything you say?” Could it be that there was less anger in the speaker’s voice? It seemed to Fitz that maybe, just maybe that were true.

“You need not believe me, but ask this of them yourselves and see that there are those among you who share your beliefs and came to your land because of it. Would you prevent their return to share their views and speak on your behalf?”

Again she quoted a verse of their holy book, the one admonishing the true believer to protect the women and those weaker than the warrior as a sacred quest. And would it not be a good thing before not only their God, but before men, before other warriors of this world - that they too were capable of mercy?

“Ask those in your - care - and receive the truth.”

There was a long silence. The three of them looked from one to the other, silent.

At last there was a response.

“We will think upon what the words that you have said.” The line went dead.

Jocelyn had been standing throughout the phone call, arms braced on the table while she had fought her war of words. Now she sank into her chair, the tension evident in both face and body. She sank back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment.

“That went about as well as we expected.” Fitz said, meaning to reassure her. “At least they listened.”

Cyrus sat back in his chair too; he’d been on the edge of it during the entire conversation. “I might be inclined to say that it went better than expected.”

He turned to Jocelyn. “We may have been neglecting your talent by promoting you to a desk.”

With her eyes still shut, Jocelyn managed a smile. “Trust me, I like it just where I am. These are special circumstances and I’m happy to do whatever I can in them. But trust me,” she said as she leaned forward to pour herself a glass of water that had been left in a carafe for them - “I am quite content to play the role I’m currently enjoying.”

She looked first at Cyrus and then at Fitz and smiled. Fitz was somewhat startled to see a flash of pleasure in them; then he thought - everyone has their passion - and this was hers. A glance at Cyrus showed an expression of understanding; he recognized her drive as something he knew all too well.

Jocelyn saw Cyrus’ expression and smiled with acknowledgment on her side. “But I would be lying if I didn’t admit that that was something of a rush.” she admitted.

Fitz smiled back at her. “Jocelyn, there are no words for the amount of appreciation I have for you right now.”

She shook her head, her smile brightening. “I serve at the pleasure of the president.”