Dressing up for someone like the Queen was something I had done before, but the dress code still surprised me.
I wore heels with an enclosed toe and heel, a black and white pleated dress that fell past my knees. It had been in my wardrobe for months without having an occasion to wear it to.
Two weeks had passed since my kidnapping and the death of Chester Hargraves, my biological father. The occurrence was still visible on my jaw and my bandaged arms and wrists. The bandage had been taken off my neck a day earlier, and really bugged me. Despite all that, I had put some effort into doing my hair and putting some makeup on my face.
The Queen had sent over a car to pick me up. The car included a driver.
"Miss Fulton?" The man asked when I opened the door. He wore a complete suit with one of those long backs tuxedo jackets. " Yes," I replied.
"I'm here to pick you up on behalf of the Queen," he said. I nodded, and followed him to his car, closing the door behind me. The inside was as luxurious and clean as the most expensive hotel rooms on this planet. It even smelled lovely.
The driver wasn't a blabbermouth. He was probably used to it, considering he chauffeured the Queen and her entourage around the city.
"May I ask your name?" I asked him. He looked at me in his rearview mirror. A flash of disbelief flashed on his face. " Jerry," he replied.
" I don't mean to be rude or to sound ungrateful, but I could've driven to Buckingham Palace myself."
Jerry snickered. "I don't doubt that, miss. The Queen, however, thought it was only fitting to pick up our guest of the day."
" And no one goes against the Queen," I finished his sentence. Jerry smiled and nodded once. I stared out the window, at the passing people, shops and lovely houses.
"If I may be free to ask, how are you doing miss?" Jerry asked. I turned my face back to him.
"I'm still alive, in contrast to my biological father," I replied and shrugged.
"I'm sorry for your loss," He respectfully spoke. His face was so honest, that I couldn't bear to hurt him. I just nodded once and shifted my gaze back out the window.
The trip had been quite short when I received the Victoria Cross. It was shortly after I had landed, after one of the most difficult missions I'd ever been on. I still couldn't talk about what happened, so I was grateful the mission had been deemed classified. I joined Six only weeks later.
We passed the gates of The Bucket after we'd been checked by security. Jerry then drove me up the front steps of the Palace and had even helped me out of the car. I flashed him a genuine smile. "Thank you, Jerry." He just nodded slightly, eying my Victoria Cross. He swallowed and walked back to drivers' side of the car to park the car somewhere else. I followed the car until it went past the corner.
I gazed around the courtyard, gathering my guts to walk inside. I took a shivering breath and then turned to walk up the steps. A woman was waiting for me at the entrance.
"Mercer Fulton?" She asked though I could tell she recognized me. "That's me," I said and took my identification out of my clutch and showed it to her. She told me to follow her.
Normally there'd be several people who'd be receiving their cross. But this time, I was all alone in a small, but still heavily decorated, Royalty-like room where the Queen would meet me. The woman told me to take a seat and offered me something to drink. I asked for a bit of water and watched her walk off.
I looked around. There was barely anything on the walls, indicating no one really 'lived' here. Quite logic, if you'd know Buckingham was only the place she worked. I knew she spent most of her time in Windsor Castle.
I looked down to the Victoria Cross that'd been pinned on my dress. The George Cross would be next to it in a few minutes.
There were two people no one could find out who'd received the Victoria Cross. I was one of those unknown people, which had been done with a purpose.
I had killed a high placed terrorist while serving the army after the man abducted me when our convoy got hit by a roadside bomb. And I hadn't left it with that.
In that moment of cold, blind rage I had killed him and his entire team and helped the thirteen other prisoners escape. Nine of those were my own people, who we thought had died, an Irishman and two Americans.
No one could ever find out I did this, or the remaining of the cell would come after me.
The thirteen people had been forced to sign a silencing contract, which they had to take with them to their graves. If they'd spill anything, it would be followed by severe punishment.
I had seen some of them again. The amount of respect and thankfulness they'd offered me refrained me of seeking contact ever again.
I had killed nineteen people. I did not want to be thanked or receive a ribbon for what I did. But yet, I had ignored the hatred I felt for it and pinned it on out of respect for the Queen.
The door opened, and I nearly jumped up. The old woman came walking in. I bowed for her.
"Your Majesty,"I greeted her. A smile donner her wrinkly face.
"Mercer Fulton. It's a pleasure to welcome you back to Buckingham Palace," She said, her gaze shifted to my chest for a second. She smiled when she saw the Victoria Cross there. "Please, do sit down."
I did as she asked me to, and sat down on the chair again after the Queen sat down on the chair opposite of mine.
"You look worse for wear if you don't mind me saying," the Queen spoke with grief in her voice. "I have read this has been the work of your father?"
I nodded. "Yes, your Majesty. My biological father did this to me. The bombs in Dover, my kidnapping... All his work," I spoke with shame and regret.
"I have been reading the file. I'm so very sorry this has happened to you. I wish to tell you that I do not blame you for what happened."
"Thank you, Your Majesty. It means more than you might believe," I softly smiled.
"And your wounds? Did they heal?" She asked as she looked at my bandaged arms.
"Oh, yes," I nodded quickly. "Nothing a plastic surgeon cannot fix if it won't heal properly." The Queen laughed at my joke, which lifted half the weight off my chest.
"I remember you well, Mercer," The Queen thought. "When you walked into the building in your uniform, it shocked me to see how battered you were. Most of the time, when people walk in their suits, faces or dresses are nice and clean, but of course, it had been me who ordered you here." She looked at my dress. "It surprises me you've decided to put on a dress today. You didn't strike me the person," she joked.
"I've never worn it," I admitted. "And I'm not really a dress person." The Queen eyed The Cross again. "It also surprises me you put the Victoria Cross on," She admitted.
"I am too. Killing eighteen people who might've been innocent isn't something I'm mighty proud of," I spoke.
"Weren't there nineteen you killed, back then?" She asked, as sharp as she was. I nodded. "Yes, there were. But he wasn't innocent. He was known for molesting little girls and using them like a horse for breeding." I was shocked to hear myself say that out loud. I never ever had talked about it. The Queen nodded.
"Then I presume you think you don't deserve the George Cross, either," she stated. I nodded slowly.
"I don't mean it as an insult to you or this country. It's just that I haven't done much other than endangering others. I wouldn't call it George Cross worthy," I spoke honestly.
"Perhaps that's what you think, but the rest of the United Kingdom begs to differ. As do I." She looked at me with a different type of fierceness in her eyes.
"You should have gotten it when you lost your mother and testified against your father. Second, you fought the biggest enemy in your personal life. Maybe not in literal sense, but you have been kidnapped and strung up for one and a half day. You also saved those people in the restaurant when you found out about the bombs; The personnel, the two Doverian girls, and of course, Niall Horan. Let's not forget the event at the O2 arena, where you spared hundreds of possible casualties." It was strange to hear Niall's name coming out of her mouth. And it surprised me she actually read the entire report.
"We're not lousy people, Mercer. If we think a person deserves it, we are certain of it."
She turned around and grabbed a little box from behind a pillow. It was the exact same box like the one I had received with my Victoria Cross.
"As you know, we've got a ceremony for these kinds of things. But I think, considering the circumstances we keep it a little more informal once again," the Queen smiled and took the pin out of the box. She got up, to which I followed her lead.
It took her a few minutes, but she managed to pin the George Cross neatly on my chest. I noticed she had taken the Victoria Cross off.
"Here. I only want you to wear it if you're comfortable with it. I don't want you to wear it if you don't. And please, you don't hurt my feelings if you don't wear it." She handed me the box where she put the Victoria Cross in.
"I expect great things from you, Mercer Adelaide Fulton," The Queen smiled widely, and continued to walk to the door.
"Thank you for the driver," I blurted out before she left the room. The Queen turned around before she walked out, and chuckled. "Of course."