Moving Forward
The Great ReclamationIt was like looking into the past as Namjoon and I sat together, side by side on my bed, discussing a horrendously ambitious plot to get our friends back. "At least if this plan fails, we won't die or something," Namjoon broke the silence with a bout of nervous laughter.
"Look," I began with a little sigh, "I just want you to come with me to this meeting I got scheduled." I had spent the past several days communicating back and forth with the California senator I had met during my debrief once I had landed back in the United States. She didn't seem particularly keen on revisiting the subject, and had told me that it was going to the Senate floor for a decision on whether or not any US military presence would be seen in Korea again any time soon. Regardless, I insisted on allowing her to see me one more time so that I might give her all the information I had available to me in order to convince her to make my case. I had been put on the spot during that first interview, and since then, I had spent a good deal of time thinking about what to say properly. I need Namjoon there will me to add another level of urgency and humanity to the cause.
He wasn't convinced, "My English is good, but it's not that good," he whined, using the same argument he had already thrown at me multiple times.
"I'll translate, just speak in Korean," I countered. Again.
"Why does it have to be me?"
Once again I let out a long, low groan, "What, do you want me to bring Taehyung in to a meeting with a United States Senator?"
"No," he conceded, his shoulders slumping, "And before you ask, no I know Jimin is a horrible choice, too. Why not Jin?" He asked, looking up at me hopefully, his wide face breaking out into a little grin.
I couldn't help but laugh, "Wow, I didn't expect you to throw Jin of all people under the bus."
"But he would be so good at it," Namjoon continued to attempt to weasel out of my plan. I wasn't exactly sure why he was so reluctant.
I finally decided it was time to pull the trump card. "You owe me," I spoke with an uncharacteristic air of authority in my voice. "Plus, you were the one working with the government, so you're the one with the most information!" I was starting to get a little bit agitated, and I think he knew it, his narrow eyes turning away from mine. "Maybe Hobie if he were here, but why are you fighting me on this so hard?" I finally cracked, asking the question I was trying most to avoid, my voice raising into a child-like squeak.
At long last he met my gaze, his dark eyes shining under the bright lights of my bedroom. "Zoey," he started, his tone falling flat, "I don't want to mess this up."
"What?" I almost wanted him to repeat himself. More than anything, I hoped I had misheard him. My face fell into my hands as I shook my head, "Not this again," I murmured, more to myself than to him.
Warmth from his large, heavy hand spread over my scalp as he repeated the friendly gesture. Trying to lighten the mood, he even gave my head a teasing little shake, "I'm sorry," he soothed, "I just," he paused for a long moment, "don't want to let you down again."
I had to twist to get out from under his hand, reaching to take it in my much smaller ones. "Namjoon," I tried my best to keep my stern voice on, "You haven't let anybody down." He held my gaze, but his eyes wavered slightly, so I continued, "If it weren't for you, I doubt the seven of you would have been able to stay together in Korea. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here. I know you wish it was you who was back with Jungkook. I know you feel guilty that you got out first." At last he looked away, shying away from under my stare. He tried to pull his hand out of my grasp, but I only tightened it. "Please," I finally resorted to pleading.
"Fine, fine! Just stop looking at me like that," he relented, a small smile tugging at his large lips.
It was easy to get clearance for Namjoon to come along with me to my meeting with Senator Feinstein. In fact, she seemed rather keen on meeting him, and arranged for her own translator. I had very deliberately omitted Namjoon's English ability, mostly just because his rhetoric when he spoke was not exactly proper, and I figured things would be easier if he just stuck to Korean. I decided to drive us, considering the drive to the state office was only about thirty five minutes. We left rather early in the morning, leaving the rest of the boys back home asleep. Namjoon himself was rather weary, his bleach blonde hair leaving slightly oily streaks against my car window as he leaned his head to rest. Thankfully, the time passed quickly with quiet music playing over the radio. "We're here," I murmured quietly, giving his shoulder a gentle shake.
We timidly approached the brick office, noting that there were already people everywhere, cars occupying most of the parking spots, and bodies rushing in and out of the building. Weaseling our way through the busy crowd, we made it inside, and I followed the little signs on the wall towards The Senator's personal office, where she had instructed us to meet her. Hesitantly, I knocked at the door, already slightly ajar. A soft voice called for us to enter, and we stepped inside, the lush navy blue carpet pristine under our feet. The office was large, but scarcely decorated. The familiar old, but well put-together woman stood as we entered, her slightly sagging face wrinkling into a warm smile, her light blue eyes squinting just slightly. "It's pleased to meet you," she spoke slowly to Namjoon, offering her small hand. The translator, a small young woman, spoke immediately. I made a mental effort to ignore her, else I might confuse myself. "It's good to see you again," Senator Feinstein greeted me, gesturing for us to sit. She wore a simple back pantsuit, her lightly greying brown hair styled in a rather dated, voluminous bob.
“Thank you, Senator,” I greeted quietly as we slipped into the chairs opposite our host. “We are grateful that you agreed to see us.”
“Well,” she started with a little sigh, glancing at the translator quickly, “I wish I could say the same, Miss Yoo. The pretenses of this meeting are cause for concern.” When my brows raised slightly, she lifted a hand to stop me before I could speak, “You have to understand, what you’re asking for is essentially an act of war.”
I hesitated, slightly blindsided by her blunt words. Ellen had said something similar last time I had seen her, but still, it sounded so foreign. “My apologies,” I finally managed to speak, trying my best to hide my emotions, “I just wanted to put forth all of the information that I could. I was still in shock that day when we first met.”
“I understand,” she sounded almost dismissive as she motioned for me to continue, “I have a voice recorder going for security and record-keeping purposes. Go ahead.”
Feeling a great sense of pressure, I took a deep breath before diving into the speech I had prepared for the past several days. “Ma’am, I know that it is a top priority to shut down Korea’s genomics program, and the strike carried out at the same time as my rescue certainly slowed it down,” I was beginning to feel nervous, my hands squeezing each other to try and redirect some of the tension. “However,” I continued quickly, “I feel that until we remove Jungkook, the ge
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