"Can't you see that I'm sick of this
Chances are that you're oblivious
To how I feel
Sitting on your throne."
- Aaron Lewis, Please
The Commissioner read the official statement about the shocking events the day before, when a federal fugitive from Lawrence had taken over a dozen hostages at a coffee shop downtown. Before him, the avid lens of half a hundred cameras were stuffed into the conference room, while reporters took notes and waited for their chance to ask questions.
Standing at the Commissioner's right, displaying his confident poise, King Gillian kept his dark blue eyes on the door, expecting it would open to let his daughter in.
Francine sneaked in instead. She met his questioning look and shook her head. Without even blinking, King Gillian breathed in to control his irritation, and stepped up when the Commissioner invited him to address the press.
Francine sneaked back out, taking the phone to her ear yet once more. Voice mail. She'd already left a dozen messages over the last hour. Gillian wasn't picking up the phone, nor calling back. All Francine had gotten from her was the letter a messenger had just delivered, lucky her after the press conference had already started. Because it was a resignation letter, issued by Gillian hardly an hour after the hostage crisis was over.
Now Francine knew that on her way back home, Gillian had stopped by the station to return her Glock at the front desk—she'd already 'returned' her badge to her father in person—issued her resignation and disappeared. Her phone was off, she didn't pick up her home line and not even her son took the calls. At least not theirs.
And King Gillian still expected her to show up and join him for the press conference. Francine didn't want to even imagine his reaction when he saw that letter.
She checked the time and hurried down the stairs to the fourth floor. There she pressed on down the hall toward the glass doors to the SCU office. And halted sharply at the doorway.
Part of the team was there. Packing?
"Can I help you, Francine?"
She spun around to find Aldana with an empty box right behind her, clearly meaning to walk in.
"What's going on here?"
Aldana raised her eyebrows at Francine's tone, so like King Gillian.
Francine showed her Gillian's letter and insisted, a hysteric hint echoing in her voice. "What's this?"
Aldana looked down at the piece of paper and replied in her flattest voice, "That would be Reg's resignation, if I'm not wrong." She dodged Francine and walked in, handing the empty box to Tanya, who took it to Kurt in the storage.
"And what's all this? Why didn't you attend the press conference?" Francine asked, following Aldana into the office. She saw the full boxes on one of the desks. Fred was taking the framed posters off the wall.
Aldana turned around to face her as if she were a slow child. "As you can see, we're clearing the office. Our own letters should be arriving soon."
"What!?" Francine would've liked to scream, but the word came out as a hoarse whisper. "What the hell, Miles! Can you at least tell me what this is all about?"
"Ask the King," Aldana replied. "Now if you'll excuse me."
Francine fell the floor move under her feet, and a bucket of cold water washing over her head. She was still able to set her jaw, spin around and stalk out. On her way back to the sixth floor, she thought she would have to choose carefully the moment to deliver the news. She tiptoed back into the conference room and stayed against the wall, almost hiding behind the reporters.
She saw King Gillian's confident, pleased smile as he answered the questions, and she noticed they were making him the hero of the day. Good. That would keep the press focused on him, while they came up with something to stop the whole SCU from quitting.