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"You said earlier that you think a lot about your kidnapping during the Juniper incident. Does it bother you?"
"I guess."
"Are you upset that you didn't pick up on the impersonation of your Handler? It's not your fault, Juniper fooled the entire planet with that same mask."
"It's not that, no... Can I have a moment to think?"
"Of course. Take your time, Phoenix."
Jamie Meyers, the agency's only member of staff actually trained in mental health and psychiatries, sat back and watched with a close eye as the Agent in front of them fidgeted with their gloves.
"It's more the fact that I could tell. I knew it wasn't Reginald right away. At the time, I didn't think he'd care that much. He must have so many other agents he's in charge of, I thought. Why would he take time out to talk to me in hospital? And I know now that he'd do it because he cares, but back then? I barely knew him."
"So you could tell. How come you left it so long to escape?"
The agent went quiet, and stared out the window.
"Because I wished it actually was my handler. I wished that the trust I had in him would have extended that far. And I guess I convinced myself that it really was him, because for a little while, I could live in that world."
"How long do you think you would have stayed if Juniper hadn't revealed he wasn't your handler?"
Phoenix took their right glove off. Their fingertips were tinged a permanent shade of blue, and as they opened and closed their hand, they reflected on the question.
"Until he killed me," they said.