Few heroes in literature have a following like the late Vince Flynn's Mitch Rapp. Everyone associated with producing this remarkable series and deciding to carry on Vince's legacy of Rapp with Kyle Mills deserves commendations and genuine thanks for not wanting to leave this amazing series behind.
So it's Friday, my fun day for Fan Fiction where I've written the female character I've chosen to capture the heart of this hero. Not sure how many more "episodes" I'll devote to this, but here's the latest with a recap from last Friday's edition.
She tossed her purse to the floor and sat down hard on the chair, pushed off her shoes, folded her arms and crossed her legs. She forced back the tears and grief and frowned at her behavior. Completely at odds with how she’d conducted herself in front of Mitch Rapp, she admitted to herself that in person he personified the previously ill-defined cliché “larger than life”. Now she knew exactly how the expression translated in real time.
Over lunch, it had been easy. He, as expected, didn’t want to discuss himself and preferred she speak freely about herself which was easy to do on a surface level. Admitting her Christianity got the response she anticipated. Not negative. A moment of surprise quickly concealed.
A light knuckle tap on her door brought her abruptly to her feet giving a quick glance at the wall clock, knowing she had nothing expected for the rest of the day. She walked across the room to answer it after seeing Rapp on the camera image mounted beside her door. She quickly opened it wide for him and saw his dessert box and the two letters in hand. He walked in and she closed the door.
“We didn’t finish our lunch,” he said, continuing to the chair he’d adopted.
“You’re right.” She took her box off her desk, kicked her shoes out of the way, and once again sat across from him. “I have trays in the closet if you think we need them,” she offered.
“I’m good,” he said, placing the letters on the arm of his chair and opening his box.
It took him no time to unwrap the napkin and fork inside, taking a bite. “Wow. This is as good as the rest of the meal.”
She quickly sampled hers. “Mmmm.”
After a few bites, Rapp said, “So, Raven, I read both letters.” He looked directly at her, watching her startled expression.
Something happens inside a woman when a man she admires or is attracted to uses her real name and says it with deliberation, firmness, and just a hint of affection. Whether it’s actually chemical or some kind of romantic hit-piece to the heart, the sound taps a target, strikes its mark, and causes an unscheduled emotional reaction close to an inflamed melt-down – all of which must not appear visible to his naked eye.
With an extreme effort to keep her voice and expression neutral, she responded, “And . . .”
“Your assumption regarding your father’s intent in writing the letters is correct.”
She struggled hard to compose herself while he finished his dessert.
“If he was presumptuous in any way, I—”
“Don’t.” He said it without hesitation. “I get it. And if you know anything about me, you know I get it.”
“I do know that,” she responded quietly.
He put his fork and napkin inside the box and held it up as a request for where to deposit it. She turned in her chair and pointed to the waste basket beside her desk.
He returned to his chair and looked at her. She forced herself to meet his gaze.
“So you want to be friends.”
A statement. “I do.”
“I don’t know how good at it I’d be.”
She kept quiet for a moment as she pondered how to respond. “I have no demands,” she finally said.
He stood. She stood, set her empty box on her desk, grabbed a business card and a pen, wrote her private Sat-phone number on the back of it, and handed it to him.
He examined it. “Can I call you Raven?”
“Yes,” she forced out, knowing her voice sounded unsteady.
“Thanks for some ‘normal’ time,” he said.
“Thank you.”
He made it to the door as she followed him before turning back to her, pulled a scrunched piece of paper from his jeans’ pocket and wrote something on it against the door before handing it to her.
“I plan on honoring your dad’s request.”
With that, he gave her a final nod and walked out, once again quietly closing her door. As she walked back to her desk, she noticed he'd left her letter on the arm of the chair.
Father, only you know hearts and minds, only you save souls. Thank you for saving me. Apart from you, I can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.