After stowing the hoverboard and helping Yates with his equipment, Arena maneuvered to Sterling. He sat in the back of the private jet, surrounded by equipment. He seemed absorbed into whatever his was doing, so she sat quietly for a while, studying the data they had been given about Sydney in preparation.

  “Before you say it, I think I could do this better from there. You will need someone who can do local traces.”

  “That wasn’t what I was going to say, Sterling.” She frowned at him. “But if any of this is about me, then you’re right, I can sit out. Yates and Sophia can go in.”

  His head whipped up.

  “You’re right. I’m not ready. I don’t feel ready. Or prepared.” She fiddled with the strap of her seat belt. “I need more training before I start doing this. I’m hoping that I can convince Yates to let me stay with you and help you track everything.”

  His shoulders slumped in relief.

  “But, before you say anything else, I’ve decided to pursue training. I want to be a CIA agent. I want to be in the Misfits.”

  Sterling let out a long breath. “Fair enough. But I think you should stay on the sidelines until you’ve gone through formal training.”

  Arena nodded, agreeing. “I think so, too. Yates is good enough at flying the hoverboards. Sophia isn’t too bad at it either. They don’t need me to do that anymore.” Then, she hesitated. “Do you really think I’d be a good agent?”

  “I think you’d make a very good agent. A brilliant one.” Then, almost under his breath, he added, “That’s what really worries me.”

  “Why?”

  She could tell he really didn’t want to answer that question. He typed a few words on his netbook and rearranged some of the equipment sitting around him.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Because a really good agent has to create some separation between themselves and the people around them, or they won’t be able to deal with the things that happen.” He grimaced. “I’m not sure I want to see that happen to you.”

  “Has it happened to you?”

  He laughed bitterly. “No, I’m not sure it has. I’m not a very good agent. I’m a good analyst. But I am way too attached to the Misfits.”

  Arena sat for a while, thinking. When Sterling stopped to eat the dinner left next to him by the flight attendant, she decided to share her thoughts with him.

  “I don’t believe you have to separate yourself to be a good agent,” she said. “I think maybe that’s what they tell you, but just because that’s the way it’s always been done, or the way the most ruthless agents work doesn’t mean it’s the only way, or even the best way. And I think you’ve proved that with the Misfits. The Misfits work, even though they do things differently. The Misfits believe in this, ADD Fieldhaven believes in it, and I think Yates does, now, too. You’ve shown them a different model, one that works as well as the one they believe is right. “

  As she spoke, he picked at the green beans on the plate with his fork, not looking at her, just listening. He put down the fork, carefully, and dotted his mouth with the napkin.

  “I hope you’re right,” he said softly. “Because I believe in them, too. Not ‘it’--‘them’.” He regarded her fully. “The Misfits doesn’t work because of the model. It works because of the people in it. It was never about starting a new model for a spy unit. I just wanted to keep doing what I was good at, and let Lorna and the others do what they were good at. It started with Lorna, because I could see nobody valued what she could really do, and in fact, they hindered her. But everyone else who has come to the Misfits has been the same way.” He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, even you. And Nate. And strangely enough, even Sophia and Yates, even if they are just temporary.”

  Arena nodded. “Maybe all along the CIA needed to stop looking at their agents as agents, and needed to start looking at them as people. With unique talents and strengths, and how they could put those together to do what needs to be done.” She smiled, lighting up her face. “The Misfits are misnamed, though.”

  He smirked, “How so?”

  “If the Misfits are the only unit that really works together as a team, then wouldn’t that make everyone else the misfits? Not really fitting in anywhere. Always going it alone? Never knowing who they could trust?”

  “Maybe. “ His smile lasted the rest of the flight.