Chapter Text
August 2018
“Higgins… I need you to contact your old MI6 buddies… get me access to a GCHQ satellite. I know you’re former British intelligence… I can only assume Robin owes you too.”
*************************************
Somewhere in the past… maybe around 2010
The invitation came in the mail, presented on thick card stock, the expensive, fancy kind that makes someone glance twice at it before reading it. Juliet read it once, then twice and then slid it back into its envelope as if she wanted to intentionally insult the paper. It was for a dignitary’s reception at a restored palace. There were high ceilings with sparkling chandeliers and people everywhere dressed to the nines. It was an embassy crowd and a donor crowd that assured the night would be filled with everyone smiling with their teeth and not with their eyes. It would be perfect cover and perfect noise. It would also be the perfect place to take the measures of strangers.
Juliet stepped out of the car near the entrance and handed her coat to an attendant and then proceeded into the reception area with the ease of someone who had learned how to enter rooms without announcing herself. Vienna does this to people. It’s a place that can convince someone that because everything is orderly, nothing is dangerous and Juliet knew better.
This was neutral ground. There were intelligence officers, diplomats, NGO heads, defense contractors, journalists… all pretending this was just culture and conversation.
Juliet scanned the room while she continued to smile with her glass of wine untouched in her hand. She was not there to talk. She was, however, there to listen.
She noticed Robin standing in an area where people didn’t need permission to stand. She noticed him because he wasn’t with anyone. He wasn’t with the press cluster near the side table comparing notes or with the officials who were rehearsing the same anecdotes they’d told hundreds of times before. He was near a tall window that was overlooking the gardens. His drink was also untouched and his posture was relaxed but alert. He was observing just as much as she was.
Juliet took note of the details almost instantaneously. He was wearing an ordinary suit that didn’t stand out. His eyes were tracking movement, not status. She didn’t recognize his face, which was fine but she did recognize his restraint. She walked over to him by the window and pretended to admire the view as she angled herself just enough to keep watching him without staring. A nearby official launched into a long winded explanation of ‘regional stability’ while Robin listened politely and nodded once out of politeness. The official paused to wait for affirmation as Robin offered a neutral, measured response, neither agreeing nor challenging. It was just enough to move the conversation along.
Juliet approved. Most journalists would have pounced just then. Robin didn’t. He never did.
She turned slightly toward him.
“Do you always look this entertained at receptions or is tonight special?” Juliet asked.
It was far from flirtation. Robin glanced at her, recalibrating himself, then answering dryly, “I’m trying to pace myself. Too much enthusiasm early on ruins the illusion.”
Juliet’s mouth curved slightly. “The illusion of what exactly?”
“That I am thoroughly enjoying this,” he replied.
She gave a quiet laugh that was soft enough it didn’t draw any attention.
“I’m Juliet.”
“Robin,” he said. “Robin Masters.”
She gestured toward his glass. “You’re either suspicious or very disciplined.”
“I believe I’m both,” he replied.
“Good answer,” said Juliet.
He studied her more closely. “And you?”
Juliet tilted her head. “Depends who’s asking.”
A smile quickly appeared on Robin’s face. It was rapid and genuine and also fleeting. They stood in silence that was actually quite comfortable. That alone told Juliet something important. Silence tended to scare people who needed to prove themselves. Robin didn’t.
“This city,” Juliet said lightly, “is very good at convincing people that neutrality equals safety.”
Robin considered it for a moment. “It’s also good at convincing people that politeness is protection,” he replied.
Juliet’s eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.
Robin could have pushed and asked her what she meant, but he didn’t. Instead, he added, “Neither holds up under pressure.”
Juliet decided that she liked him.
A senior cultural attache glided over with a practiced smile.
“Jules,” he said warmly, pleased to spot someone he recognized. His eyes shifted over toward Robin. “And who is your companion?”
Companion was an interesting choice of words. Juliet chose not to correct him. Robin stepped forward and stretched out his hand.
“Robin.”
The attache waited. Robin did not fill the pause with credentials. The attache eventually nodded. “And you’re…?”
“A journalist.”
There was no apology or bravado, just fact. The attache’s smile tightened, recalibrated and then smoothed again. Juliet watched it all carefully.
Robin chose not to chase approval. He just let the room decide what to do with him. As the attache moved on, Juliet caught something else. Two men crossed the room. They were wearing suits that fit too well. It was attention that lingered too long. Too long for her liking.
Juliet shifted closer to Robin, her voice light enough to sound like social advice. “If you were planning on leaving early,” she said, “this would be an excellent moment.”
Robin blinked. “Why is that?”
“Because you’ve already made the rounds,” she said smoothly. “And because conversations get worse after this point.”
Robin followed her gaze subtly, then he saw the men. His instincts kicked into high gear. Stay, observe and learn.
Juliet added in a quieter voice, “Nothing important happens at the end of parties. Only mistakes.”
Robin let that advice settle. He nodded once. “All right.”
They drifted toward the exit together slowly to not make it obvious. At the door, Juliet veered away into another conversation without breaking stride. Robin paused and looked back.
Juliet met his eyes from across the room and gave the smallest nod.
Go.
And Robin left.
Outside, the cold air cleared his head.
She didn’t flirt. She didn’t warn him explicitly. She didn’t even explain herself. Yet, she managed the room. That was rare.
He waited near the coat check until he saw her slip free again.
He approached without blocking her path.
“Juliet.”
She looked at him mildly, as if she was surprised he still existed.
“You didn’t take my advice,” she observed.
“I did,” he said. “Then I realized you gave it for a reason.”
Juliet studied him and measured whether it was ego or awareness. Robin continued quietly. “You helped me. I don’t know why, but I don’t forget that.”
He offered her his card.
“If you ever need anything,” he said, serious now, “anything at all… call me.”
Juliet took the card and looked at it as if it weighed more than paper.
“That’s a rather dangerous promise,” she said.
Robin shrugged. “I’m careful with my words.”
Juliet slipped the card into her clutch.
“All right,” she said.
Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she added, “Next time… drink your drink. You looked like you were being punished.”
Robin laughed softly. “Duly noted.”
They parted.
To Juliet, it was a footnote.
To Robin, it became a reference point.
*************************************
Over the course of the next few months, the two did keep in contact for various reasons. Robin called to ask for advice on things and Juliet gave her opinions on things freely. It was a professional type relationship but the seeds of friendship were planted and continued to grow as time went on.
Robin was four paragraphs into the draft when the feeling hit him. It wasn’t panic because panic was loud. This was quieter than that. It was a tightening just behind his eyes… a sense that something had shifted just a fraction to the left while he wasn’t looking.
He reread the paragraph. Nothing was wrong with it. The sourcing was clean. The quotes were accurate. The documents were verified twice over.
And yet.
He swiveled in his chair toward the window of his temporary flat, watching the rain streak the glass in thin, uneven lines. The city was grey and orderly and very good at pretending nothing bad happened inside it.
His phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. He decided to ignore it. Then, it buzzed again. He answered.
“Robin,” a man said, breathless. “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
That alone told him everything.
“Slow down,” Robin said. “You’re safe right now. Where are you?”
“I… I don’t know,” the man said. “Not here. Not anymore. They reset my access logs overnight. That’s not supposed to happen. Someone is watching the watchers.”
Robin closed his laptop gently.
“Listen to me,” he said. “Have you told anyone else?”
“No.”
“Good. Don’t. We’re going to put a pause on everything.”
“But… the story!”
“The story can wait,” Robin said firmly. “Your life can’t.”
Silence crackled on the line.
“Okay,” the man said. “Okay.”
Robin gave him careful instructions. It wasn’t anything dramatic. He just told the man to leave the phone behind and to take a train, not a car. He told him not to go home and not to contact family yet. When the call ended, Robin sat very still.
This was the moment where journalists got people killed. Not out of malice but out of momentum.
He looked at the draft again and then minimized the window.
He knew exactly who to call.
*************************************
Juliet answered on the third ring.
“Robin,” she said, already alert. She never answered the phone casually.
“I need a sanity check,” he said.
There was a pause. It wasn’t hesitation, just calibration.
“Talk.”
He kept it high level. He didn’t provide names or locations. He just explained the shape of the problem.
“A source,” he said. “Mid-level. Clean record. Access to internal systems. They noticed unauthorized log changes overnight.”
Juliet exhaled quietly.
“That’s not good,” she said.
“I know. He’s spooked.”
“As he should be.”
Robin leaned back against the counter, the chill of the stone seeping through his shirt.
“I haven’t published,” he said. “I haven’t even filed.”
“That was the right call,” Juliet said immediately. There was no judgement or hesitation in her voice.
Robin closed his eyes briefly.
“Here’s what I need,” he said. “If I proceed carefully, does this end with exposure or with someone disappearing?”
Juliet didn’t answer right away.
Robin imagined her somewhere quiet with her phone pressed to her ear, her eyes unfocused as she mapped possibilities faster than he or anyone could follow.
“Both are possible,” she said finally. “But only one is acceptable.”
“Which?”
“The one where the person lives.”
Robin nodded even though she couldn’t see it.
“Tell me what to do,” he said.
Juliet’s voice sharpened. “You’re going to stop behaving like a journalist for the next forty-eight hours,” she said. “No curiosity. No follow-ups. No testing reactions.”
“Done.”
“Good. Now listen carefully.”
She laid it out clean in unemotional steps. He was to remove all digital traces linking him to the source. He wasn’t to erase it, just disconnect it. The source was to become boring, predictable and invisible. He was to avoid encrypted messages for now because those attracted attention when someone was already flagged. And she told him public behavior should continue as normal. No sudden absences.
Robin scribbled notes even though he knew he would destroy them afterward.
“And the story?” he asked.
Juliet’s tone shifted into something soft but heavier.
“You can publish,” she said. “Eventually. But not like this.”
“Why?”
“Because right now, the systems are watching for confirmation,” she said. “If you move too cleanly, they’ll know they were right.”
Robin swallowed.
“And what happens if I ignore this?
Juliet didn’t soften it. “Then the source gets questioned,” she said. “Then the questioning becomes leverage. Then the leverage becomes compliance.”
“And after that?”
Juliet is silent for a moment.
“After that,” she said, “there is no story worth what it costs.”
Robin gripped the edge of the counter.
“Okay,” he said. “I trust you, Juliet.”
Juliet exhaled slowly.
“Good,” she said. “Now tell the source one thing… and only one thing.”
“What?”
“To breathe,” she said. “Fear makes people visible.”
The next forty-eight hours stretched thin.
Robin kept to the routine with the utmost discipline which surprised even him. He went to meetings he already had scheduled. He filed a different piece with his paper and he drank coffee in public places where nothing interesting ever happened.
The source did the same thing.
There was no contact and no panic. And slowly, so slowly that Robin almost missed it… the pressure eased.
The log anomalies stopped. The sense of being watched faded to just background noise. On the next night, the point after the forty-eight hour period… Robin’s phone rang again. It was the same number.
“I think it worked,” the man said. His voice seemed steadier now. “Everything feels… normal again.”
Robin closed his eyes.
“Good,” he said. “That’s what we wanted.”
“Does that mean we’re done?”
Robin hesitated.
“It means we’re safe,” he said carefully. “For now.”
After the call, Robin didn’t move for a long time. He didn’t celebrate or feel victorious. He just felt humbled.
He called Juliet the next morning.
“Juliet,” he began, “I owe you,” he said immediately.
Juliet snorted softly. “No.”
“You saved him.”
“I merely prevented a bad outcome,” she said. “That’s not the same thing.”
“It is to me,” Robin replied.
Juliet’s voice turned dry. “You journalists and your dramatics.”
Robin smiled despite himself.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Within reason,” she replied.
“Why did you help?”
There it was. The question that would define everything.
Juliet didn’t dodge it.
“Because you stopped,” she said. “Most people wouldn’t have.”
Robin frowned. “Stopped what?”
“Stopped pushing,” she said. “You didn’t ask how to get around the risk. You asked whether it was worth it.”
Robin leaned against the window, watching the city around him wake.
“Truth matters,” he said quietly.
“Yes, it does,” she replied. “But people matter first.”
Robin nodded. “That’s the rule I try to live by.”
Juliet was silent for a moment.
“Then we’ll get along just fine,” she said.
The story ran months later. It was careful, responsible and didn’t include any names that would ruin lives.
It did cause ripples but they were quiet ones. The kind that move systems without splashing blood across the floor.
The source was able to keep his job. He was also, thanks to Juliet, able to keep his family and his life.
Robin never told anyone how close it came.
Juliet never asked.
From that day on, something was settled between them. It wasn’t a spoken agreement or a pact, but more of an understanding.
When Juliet called, Robin always answered. And when Robin asked whether someone would get hurt, Juliet told him the truth.
That’s how the trust formed… not with any type of promise but with restraint. Once it was formed, it wasn’t going to break. Juliet knew Robin was a good man and Robin now owed her and he would one day pay back that debt in a way Juliet would never expect.