WHO: Roxy Fisher
WHAT: Resigning from the FBI
WHEN: Backdated; about 2 weeks ago
RATING: PG-13 for some imagery?
OPEN?: Nope! Narrative




Getting dressed felt...odd. After spending so much time around Niccy's place, mainly in the most comfortable clothes she had, which consisted of jeans and oversized t-shirts. She didn't talk much, and though she'd eaten enough to regain her strength, and enough that her face no longer looked gaunt, she didn't much enjoy anything.

The woman at the hospital had been kind, patient and soft spoken while she rattled off the questions she had to answer. Even in her then numb state, Roxy had been careful what she said, other things just having the answer of "I can't remember". Roxy, who had always hated needles - barely even flinched when it took the nurse two times to get a vein. The blood tests had thankfully come back negative of any disease that may have been passed on to her, but that did very little to put her mind at ease. Nights were the worst, and she hadn't allowed Niccy to turn off the lights in the bedroom once. The dark brought the shadows, and whoever was looming in them a chance to take her again. She would wake up screaming, her body drenched in a cold sweat while her entire body shook in fear. She couldn't seem to keep the demons away, no matter how tightly she tried to hold onto reality.

It had been a month since she'd been home, a month since she'd been rescued. Her mother was hysterical when she finally called, but not because of what happened. No, Roxy wouldn't tell her mom what had happened. Her mom had been more upset that Roxy hadn't called in months, or even so much as written an e-mail. Roxy barely spoke as her mother rattled on, but simply explained she'd been out of touch. When her mom pressed for more information, she lied and told her she'd been undercover on assignment. The last thing her mom needed was to freak out over her well being. Roxy had gotten away from her alcoholic mother, and wasn't about to have her hanging around all the time because she was terrified about something more happening to her. It was enough to have Niccy and Zeke hovering around, she didn't need anyone else, especially her mother.

Leo had been...supportive, from a distance anyway. He seemed to be one of the few people who was actually in her life that gave her space. She assumed it was because, who the hell knew how to deal with her like this? Niccy tried, and as much as she wanted to just hold onto him and let him in, she couldn't get past everything that kept her so tightly wound up in her protective ball.

Today, she had to leave the apartment. She had to get herself dressed in clothes that felt foreign to her. Her designer tags meant so little to her, when before she took such joy in such simple things as her closet full of clothing. She had waited until Niccy left, needing to do this on her own, for once. Taking the keys to her car, she almost laughed when she wondered if she remembered how to drive. She drove the few blocks that would take her to the highway, and though she felt a little nervous driving again after so long, she got on it, knowing it was only a few exits until she'd be at her place.

When she finally arrived she felt...detached. It was the first time she'd been home, alone, and while she was grateful for the reprieve from constantly being looked after like she'd break at any moment, she was afraid to go in by herself. The quiet scared her more than it ever had before. Walking into her apartment, she flipped on the light and stood in the long deserted front room. She looked around, and couldn't even think enough to remember the girl who used to live here. Everything about that girl seemed childish and frivolous. She smiled more often now, even indulged in a laugh or two, but she still felt...raw.

Walking into her bedroom, she avoided the bed. Beds seemed to scare her a little, and it was odd because she had gone so long without the luxury of one. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face, and the twisted way he used to sneer at her. Her body would shake at the memory of his hands pressing into her, her body too weak to fight him off. His fingers twisting so hard into her skin that she'd yelp with pain, in which she could only assume in his fucked-up mind, he fooled himself into thinking she was enjoying it. She remembered the way he'd leave her crumpled on the floor, her entire body shaking as silent tears rolled down her face before she could hold them back.

She wanted to scream at the memory, but instead bit down hard on her teeth, grinding them together as she walked past her bed and into her closet. She pulled down a skirt suit, one she wore so many times to work before, but that looked like something she'd never wear. It was a long ways away from her usual attire of oversized t-shirts and sweats. Pulling them on, her brow furrowed a little as she smoothed her hand down the front of the pink blouse she wore, the ends of it seeming to hang a little looser than they had before. She frowned, but pulled on her jacket anyway. She had an appointment in less than a half hour.

Roxy couldn't even really remember the drive. But suddenly she was in the elevator at the FBI building in downtown Boston. She glanced up when the elevator dinged her arrival on the top floor. Her hands felt sweaty and her throat dry. She glanced around, and though she was sure she was just being paranoid, it seemed to her like everyone was staring at her as she walked past them. Clearing her throat when she got to the receptionist's desk, she was met with a guarded smile from the woman there, one who would usually chat Roxy up anytime she came by. Not today. Not after the reports had been filed and everyone knew, for the most part, what had happened to her. There were thousands of secrets within these walls, and but this wasn't one of them.

She only had to wait a few minutes before she was escorted into the Director's office. She stood when she was left in there, standing with her hands clasped behind her as he looked over the folder she had slid onto his desk. Agent Fisher, you are one of the most promising agents we've had come through these walls... He began, his 'go get 'em' pep talk that she could only assume was coming. She inhaled deeply, keeping her shoulders squared and her chin strong as she fought against the urge to scream at him exactly what the report had left out. You're a lucky woman that your brother found you before that gas explosion went off. Roxy simply nodded, finding it hard to speak. "Yes, I am sir." She said, her teeth then gritting together as she bit back the urge to tell him exactly what had happened there. The self control and resolve she'd spent months cultivating was gone. But she knew any mention of who had found her just a little sooner, of who was the one to fire the gun that killed her captor, all of that was kept in her own chest of secrets, as any mention would bring down the entire FBI not only on herself, but to a family she had sworn her loyalty to.

Roxy said nothing when he had finished, just tried to keep her resolve as she stared back at him. He seemed to search inside of her stare, looking for something that he could pick at. But she knew there was nothing there. The strong and independent woman who had walked into the bureau was completely sheathed by the broken woman she had become. You're absolutely sure about this, Agent Fisher? It is very hard to get back into the bureau once you've left it. His voice was a little more stern this time, as if to scold her into staying. Roxy simply nodded and plucked her badge from the lapel of her black jacket. She stared at it for half a second before she gently placed it on his desk. "Yes sir, I'm positive."

The two exchanged a look, and he simply nodded, standing and offering his hand to her. It was a pleasure working with you, Ms. Fisher. Roxy bit down on her lower lip and reached forward, shaking his hand as firmly as she could before she pulled it back. "Thank you for everything, Sir." She said, bowing her head a little in a grateful nod. She felt like the most traitorous person in that very moment, and had always figured she'd go down in a blaze of glory, and not the cowardice of resigning her position. She just didn't have it in her anymore. She couldn't get herself up in the morning to come to work, pretend to be okay, on top of pretending to be faithful to the FBI. It was too much, and after she left, she'd be free. Tony will escort you out. I wish you the best of luck in the future. Roxy nodded and thanked him. She would never darken this doorstep again.

Walking out of the office, she was escorted to a room where she signed confidentiality papers, along with debriefing papers, resignation papers, and after nearly an hour in that room, her hand was sore from how many times she'd signed her name. She barely even read the typed words on the page before she signed it, wanting to leave as soon as possible. She was escorted down to the parking garage and said good-bye to the security guard who had always been so nice to her. She walked quickly to her car, getting in and sitting in the seat there for a long time before she actually turned it on. It wasn't until she was out of the building and stopped at a red light that she noticed she was having a hard time breathing, as ragged sobs choked their way out. She pulled onto a side street and to the side of the road before she bowed her head against the steering wheel and allowed herself to cry. She had never felt so much like a failure before. She'd left her post at the FBI, left Leo and his family without an "inside man", her life was falling apart, and she just had no idea how she was supposed to put it back together. Just one day at a time, she supposed ... if only the days were not excruciatingly painful.