The bartender left before we did.

            Despite our joking, we did not intend for the drinking to turn into a game, but it spiralled into one. Nor did we anticipate our competitiveness to rival one another so fiercely and yet it did.

            I did not dare glance out the window to check, but the waves must have been harsh. I rocked back and forth in my chair, watching the empty bar sway side to side where, astonishingly, nothing fell from it.

            "A-Agent," slurred Barnes. He took a step to the side and stumbled over his own feet. He gripped the edge of the bar just in time, and fell into a fit of laughter by himself. "Up for another round?"
I snorted and leaned back in my seat, grabbing the base of the chair. "You couldn't take another round." I frowned as I rocked. "Is the room spinning?"
"More like... what's it called? Rotating! That's it."
"That's the same thing you... you stupid!"
"I'm not a stupid. You're a—! Whatever you said, I can't remember."

            I forgot as well. I rested my chin in my hands, running over the words that had just let out my mouth. Barnes laughed and hit the table so hard he wobbled. He failed in steadying himself, body slapping against the ground. We both cracked up in laughter.
"Just... give me a minute," he said, still laughing. "Then another round!"

            The buzz of my phone anchored me in.

            Reading Collins's name on the screen made my stomach lurch upwards.

            I was trouble. I was in serious, serious trouble.

            I inhaled, closing my eyes to let out a long, steady exhale to scrape some sobriety from my brain. It only made me dizzy.

            I answered the call. "Rollins. No—Collins!"

            We were off to a dazzling start.

            "Collins, um..." I coughed, trying to give myself time to string together a reasonable excuse. "Sorry about that. I just had something stuck in my coat."
Throat, Amber. Throat!
"Amber Knight are you... are you drunk?"
"Me drunk? Of course not! Why would I willingly drink myself into such a state that I can't even manage one simple conversation while working with a traitor?" I bit my nails, cursing my entire existence. This was not Barnes's fault – I only had myself to blame for how I had acted. Why had I done it? I was not the impulsive type, calculating the consequences of an action before partaking in it, but I gave in so easily. All it took was a joke from Barnes and I cracked.

            Collins sighed heavily. It was not judgemental or patronising; Collins was never like that. All I could sense through that single breath over the phone was disappointment and I did not blame him one bit for feeling that.
"I won't tell Alistair."
I sighed in relief. "Collins, thank you."
"But you owe me an explanation when you get back tomorrow."
That was not due to be pleasant. "Done."
"Good," he said. "These past few days can't have been easy with the loss of Agent Williams. It must have felt different working this time, and I understand that missions such as this can be trying on their own."
I forced a meaningless laugh. It had certainly felt different to anything else I had faced. "That's a severe understatement."

            My eyes brushed over Barnes. His laugh had subsided into subtle remnants of a smile; he could hear my conversation with Collins.

            I stepped back from the table. "Did you need something?" I asked Collins.
"Oh, right! Yes." He cleared his throat. "You recall how I mentioned Alistair becoming rather vocal about the agency's powers?"
"Of course," I replied.
"Yesterday, Alistair had Gabby clear his schedule from the fifth of November onwards, after a meeting" he explained. That was odd for Alistair – the Director's schedule had been full since the day he accepted the job. "I asked him about it," he went on, "and he said we will need a lot of free time after that date, and a lot of it, because we are going to be promoted."
"Do you think they are really considering Alistair's request?"
"Request is a gentle word for it, but yes. I think they really are."
My jaw dropped. Alistair's relationship with the Government had been rocky from the day I met him. They had failed him, he had said – failed this country. After what happened to his family, I did not blame him for thinking that way. "Wow," I said. "Will the meeting be at Westminster?"
"No," he sighed. "But I don't know where it will take place. Unfortunately, agents are not allowed to attend the meeting so Alistair can have an external defence to show the agency from an unbiased perspective."
The gin I had drank tickled my courage. "Why not turn up and be a little dramatic?" I suggested, my mischievous smirk mirroring that of someone else.
"That's reckless for you, Miss Knight."
I smiled, a small laugh escaping my lips that made Barnes look up from his giggly trance. "Think that might be the drink."
"Maybe," he said. "Goodnight, Agent."
"You too," I said, then ended the call.

             I shoved the phone back into my pocket, slumping into the seat at the table near Barnes. My brain was a mess. I thought I could be professional and get this last job done before a break at home to mourn Scotty properly, but apparently that was not happening. Collins was right: I had grown reckless around Barnes. I'd seen it several times over the past few days – when my mind slipped from that of an agent to a careless, grieving friend searching for any substitute to numb the pain.

         "Who was that?" Barnes asked.
"Collins," I replied.
"Again?" He raised an eyebrow. "Are you on his emergency contact list, or something?"
I kept my eyes on my hands, feeling sick. "No."
"Well he certainly likes calling you." He did not even try to mask his harsh undertones. When he caught me looking up at him, he turned away, scraping at a layer of cardboard off the beermat sitting on the bar beside him.

            Resting my elbows on the table, I sighed, running my hands through my hair and clutching my scalp, cursing myself.
"I shouldn't have done this," I whispered.
"Sorry?" said Barnes, dragging himself to his feet, staggering as he walked.
"I shouldn't have done this." I let go of my hair. "Drinking, playing pool, talking to you and having... fun."
"What's wrong with that?" Barnes asked with a frown, falling into the seat opposite me. My stomach flipped, throat stinging. He was too kind to me for what I was – too kind that it was sickening.
"It's having fun with you that's the problem."

            Barnes's face fell, and guilt struck at me again. "I'm sorry, that's not what I—" I shook my head, groaning out a sigh. "This is the problem. You're my target. I am not supposed to feel anything about you but I do. I can't even help it. Tomorrow I'm expected to send you off to Alistair without a second thought and I feel guiltyabout it! I feel guilty for being a good agent and doing my job when I shouldn't be. Because believe it or not I actually—" Stop it. Stop it now.

            I swallowed down the words, looking away in the hope he would forget. He wouldn't. I knewhe wouldn't. Alistair told me that Barnes was manipulative but all the training I possessed said he was genuine. His smiles were meaningful, his laughs honest, his words real... I detested it. I detested how it contradicted everything Alistair had told me. Was I to trust his words or his training?

            "You actually... what?" Barnes quizzed.
Like you. But I couldn't say that. "I actually... think you're alright." Not the truth, but not a lie either.
A smile tugged on his lips – he accepted that answer. "Well, I think you're alright too."

            There was nothing else for me to say. I knew what I wanted to, but I could not do that to either of us. I trusted Alistair completely, but if there was a chance that Barnes was innocent, perhaps it was within my power to convince him to look at Barnes's case again. If he was guilty, I would rest easy knowing I had not condemned a man to a life of incarceration without knowing the full story.

            "Agent," Barnes said, "there's... there's something else I need to tell you." I straightened up in my seat, ready to hear what he had to say.

            "I've wanted to say this for a while and... well, I didn't know how well you would react to it." He rubbed the back of his neck, brow low in thought. My chest tightened in anticipation. Was I finally going to learn something about this mission?

            "The reason Alistair wants me brought in is because I know something. Something that others before me knew and were killed for."
"Killed for?"
"A few other agents and I discovered that Alistair did not just plan on requesting more power for the agency... He was just going to take it."
My blood turned cold. "How?"
Barnes licked his lips, one final debate spinning around in his head before answering, "He's going to kill for it," he said. "He's going to put an end to the Government and seize control over the military."

            I forced a deadly laugh and stood up.
"That's not funny," I said.
"Of course it's not funny. People have died for this – people I knew," Barnes hissed. "That's why he wants me back and not dead; to see who else knows about this."
I shook my head. It was too outrageous. Too out of character to be real. "No. No he doesn't." He was lying – he hadto be lying!
"Yes, he does. You know what happened to his family. He thinks this Government doesn't fit."
"That's why we have a democracy, Barnes. We vote them out, not kill them!"
"Agents have died fighting wars in the shadows for an oblivious Government," Barnes snapped. "Do you not think Alistair's had enough? That he isn't ruthless enough to kill for what he misguidedly thinks is right? A war can take out the country that has destroyed the lives of agents and their families."
"A war?" I echoed. He was making this up. "Bloody hell, it just gets more outlandish by the second."
"I'm telling the truth!"

            Russian spies tortured and killed what was left of Alistair's family: his wife and newly recruited daughter. I never met them – they were lost not long before Alistair found me – but I knew of them well enough to know that their deaths could have been avoided if the Government stepped in to negotiate. They didn't, and the bodies were not recovered until months after their disappearance. It came as a surprise to no-one that Alistair changed after that.

            He changed. But he didn't become a monster. A monster wouldn't have saved me from the clutches of another.

            "Do you have proof?" I snapped.
"Not anymore."
I laughed again. "How convenient."
"He had it destroyed. You know he can cover his tracks well!"
"This is just... no." I shook my head. The Government, the agents that knew, the civilians who would be trapped in a war... "This is crazy. He wouldn't do this. Alistair would not end lives that did not need ending, especially agents."
"And who decides which lives need ending? Alistair."
He did what was best for us. This was not it. "He would never do something like that. I don't believe it."
"Alistair's insane," he huffed. "It's obvious."
"You don't know him."
"No-one does."
"I do. I've known him since I was thirteen, Barnes. Thirteen! He saved my life."
"And I saved yours, but you don't show much trust in me."
"This was different."
"How?"
"Why should I tell you?"
"So maybe I can understand." I took a breath, gulping it down. No way would I tell him. There was no way. Barnes shook his head. "Christ, Agent. Just tell me!"
"I can't!"

            It all came back. Every pain, every cry, every scream – everything. Doctor Arnold's voice, the news about mother, the woman that came to visit, and Marcus's stare. Marcus's cold, sharp stare that pierced my chest every time I failed at anything.

            Marcus hurt people for his own gain. He tortured, he killed, and he damaged countless individuals all in the name of his work. Alistair saved me from that. He was unlike Marcus. In no life did I believe him capable enough to assassinate our leaders and wage war on a scale so massive that thousands could die... all for his lack of faith in those that led us. For his... revenge.

            Barnes's voice calmed. "Just think about it, Amber—"
"I've told you not to call me that."

            His face fell, lips parting in disbelief so I turned my back on him, not wanting to look at his sad face any longer.

            "Think about it," he corrected. "Alistair has lost faith in the Government. With them out the way, the only power left for at least a few weeks would be the agency. If he can blame the assassination on Russia, he can wage a war to end our fights in the shadows all in the name of false justice. No more agents will die, but both Russia and England will fall to chaos and anarchy. He's blinded by hatred and he'll take both countries down with him thinking he's saving us all."

            Alistair was logical and had to know this plan would not work. He had been hurt by foreign Governments and his own. That pain kept him going, made him ruthless in protecting his country but protective over his agents. It was true that he had changed in recent weeks, but the man was stressed. He wanted more power for the agency, but he was an agent – a silent soldier forced to play politician – not an anarchist consumed by hatred of a past wrong-doing.

            I glanced at the space between us, unaware of how close we were until now. To Barnes's regret, I had backed off, pushing him further and further away with every step. I had let my guard down and gave the impression that I was willing to believe a man I barely knew over one I respected and valued, owing my entire life to. I wanted to defend him to Alistair, convince him to re-open Barnes's case and examine whether his crime was worth a life of imprisonment. But, after hearing what he had to say, I realised it was impossible. I could not free Barnes without condemning Alistair. One was innocent where the other was guilty.

            My loyalty to Alistair came first.

            His eyes turned glassy as mine froze over.
"When the boat docks, I will hire a car to take us to headquarters." I looked at the image before me; he thought I would believe him. He really did. "Then you're Alistair's problem and I'm done."

Derek Barnes
Even if she wanted to, Amber Knight would not accept that Alistair had lost his mind. She could not see it – wouldnot see it – and pushed away the thought without acknowledging it, acting as though the facts would fade from existence if she rejected them.

            But facts were facts. Alistair may have wanted his agents safe, but blaming an entire country for his pain was not reasonable. Repeated failings from our Government tore him apart so much he believed it was his duty to abolish it completely and take swift action against those who he believed threatened us, even if it destroyed himself and two countries, setting fire to all that lived within them, guilty or not.

            Every word I said plunged another dagger further into her back; a double-ended dagger that cut me too. I thought I knew better than to open my mouth to one of Alistair's loyal workers, but the explanations just fell from my lips in a desperate plea for her to listen. That was my fault for being stupid enough to believe she would.

            She shook her head, disapproval evident in her frozen eyes that sparked my anger. I kept still, knowing if I let myself go and kicked the threatening chair I was eyeing up, she would only think less of me.

            I never thought I'd care about that.

            Her face went blank when she said those words and, like the robotic servant she was, she followed the orders that did not even need to be said.

            She distanced herself from the problem, drifting through the bar like a cold draught to get away from me.

            A problem. That's all I had ever been. For Rick, for Jade, for Alistair and Alpha squad, Kieran and Kristina – even my own mother. And now for Amber. I had made so many mistakes in my life and, even as I tried to fix them, I still made a mess.

            Maybe it was the way I had strung together my words with Amber. I should have stormed forward, took her arm and made her listen, made her understand.

            But 'maybe' was an empty word. I didn't storm forward, take her arm and make her listen. All that word was, was a dead wish. And yet I settled for it.

            All I would have left of Amber Knight when I arrived in London would be thoughts that could never be real. She was more than what she believed herself to be; more than how I imagined her when we met in that casino. She was headstrong, sarcastic, capable and passionate with infuriating yet admirable loyalty. I both admired and abhorred how she could switch herself off as she did, disconnecting herself from those strong emotions in order to do her job. Maybe if I was like her, I would not have made so many mistakes.

            Again, that useless word. She was the agent and I was her target. Nothing could change now, no matter how much I wanted it to.

***

Amber had left me alone in the bar to go for a walk to clear her head. To diminish my boredom and cool off the anger, I created a game to play by myself back at the pool table. The main objective was to roll the balls into the pots by tossing them across the table. It seemed simple enough, but the balls kept bouncing off the corner cushion and darted all over the table so they missed their mark.

            The circulating sound of the rolls casted my mind back home – or the place I called home for a long time. Particularly, the day I had taught Jade how to play pool. She was so young then, only seven, and could barely reach across the table. We had gorged on pub food all evening and spent two hours trying to have a successful game. Jade whined that she would never get it as we left so I promised to teach her how to become the best pool player there was.

            I never did.

            Mum picked us up after her shift at work, hazel eyes tired with strands of her falling from her bun, but she smiled anywhere, beaming with joy at the sight of her son, step-daughter and new husband. She always had a light around her that I never inherited; a glowing smile, bright skin, and positivity that I loved. She always knew how to make someone happy – even a stranger.

            And then Kane blew that light out like it was nothing.

December 2006: Watford
Jade groaned as our eyes followed the ball into the socket. I snorted.
"Two shots to you. Again," she sighed.
"You'll get there soon, sweetheart," Rick said softly, patting his daughter on the back. She pursed her lip and frowned at the table. In her eyes, it was an impossible task. In mine, she was just too stubborn to even try.

            And she wasn't naturally gifted like myself.

            "Maybe I should find you someone else to play," I quipped, "like a five-year-old."
Jade stuck out her tongue and I copied. "Cocky!" she spat.
"Sore loser."
"Am not."
"Yes, you are!" I exclaimed through a laugh.
"Derek, leave your sister alone," Rick scolded.
My mouth gaped open. "She started it!"
"You're fifteen. She's seven," he said. "You should know better."
"But she called me cocky."
"I tell her to be honest," Rick replied. He shrugged and smiled when my throat made a noise. This man!
"Thanks, Rick."
"You're quite welcome."

            I leaned against the table, watching Jade as she huffed in the corner of the room, sipping her fizzy lemonade through a pink straw.

            An idea struck. "Right," I said, picking up the cue. "Why don't I show you how to play?"
She smiled brightly, bushy brows arching. "Please!"
"Good lad," said Rick, brown eyes gleaming as he sipped his lager. A fuzzy feeling at that made me grin, but I went on to show Jade how to hold the cue without comment.

            Mum picked us up after an hour, still dressed in her work uniform with her fawn hair falling from a loose bun. She stood outside the pub, shivering with her navy cardigan folded across her chest, her car keys in hand, still holding a smile.
"It's December, Mia. You look freezing!" Rick exclaimed, taking off his coat to hand to his wife.
"Rick, it's twice my size!" She laughed as the fabric engulfed her.
"Honey, everything is twice your size," Rick joked. He pulled her close, planting a loving kiss on her cheek that made Jade grimace. I cackled at her reaction, getting an elbow in the stomach for it.

            I frowned at her. "Where's your hat?"
The four of us started to walk, my sister and I behind the parents. "In my pocket," said Jade, the cold air forming in a cloud of mist before her big eyes.
"Well put it on. You'll freeze." I rubbed my arms together, already feeling the biting chill. It was due to snow throughout the night.
"No way!" she argued. "I look stupid."
"You're seven. You're supposed to look stupid."

            I smirked at the orange wool hanging from her pocket and swiped it, planting it on her head with a few adjustments so it stayed on. I snickered to myself at the hat dropped forwards, covering her eyebrows.
"There," I said between the laughs. "Cute as a button."
"I hate you."
"Liar," I replied, tapping her on the head. She stuck out her tongue, and I did the same.

            "Derek," said mum, making me promptly shut my mouth, biting my tongue. "Did you finish that history essay you mentioned?"
Just. "All done."
Jade frowned. Or that's what I imagined – I still couldn't see her eyebrows. "Is that the long piece of writing you copied from the—"
I pulled her oversized scarf up, covering her mouth. "Poor dear! You must be so cold. Keep that mouth covered or you'll catch your death."
Mum sighed. "Derek, you can't keep taking shortcuts."
"It's just an essay, mum. I can't stand reading – it's so boring. And those books we're set to read..." I shuddered. Skimming the notes on the novels was a far easier task than reading the whole thing for myself, and it still got the job done.
"You'll learn to love it one day," she replied, holding Rick's arm closer.
"What reason could I have to love reading?" I retorted. "Nothing can make me willingly stare at hundreds of words on a page for hours on end."
Mum rolled her eyes, smiling. "You never know; someone might inspire you to think differently."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
Rick laughed. "I think your mother is saying it is not a question of what can make you read, but whocan."
"Rick!" I exclaimed. My step-father chuckled, apparently finding my humiliation humorous. Jade giggled.
"Don't you start," I hissed as mum and Rick chatted between themselves. She shrugged her small shoulders, the movement barely visible within the thick fabric that saved her from the biting air.

            She beamed as Rick's eyes sparkled at the sight of mum.
"I'm glad they got married," Jade said quietly.
I agreed, but never heard her voice her opinion on them as a couple before. I did not like the idea of mum remarrying at first, worried about how letting someone else into our lives would put us in harm's way, but I grew to like Rick. He was... normal.
"Why?" I asked her.
Her brown eyes glinted, the streetlamps reflecting them with gold. "Because I wouldn't have a big brother like you if they didn't."

            I smiled warmly, opening my mouth to reply, only to be shut up as I bumped into Rick, Jade walking into the back of mum.
"What the f—?" I stopped myself from cursing in mum's presence and frowned, straining to see passed Rick's curly head of brown hair and shoulder-padded parka.

            A voice cut through the cold air.
"I am looking for my son," it said. I recognised it; the deep male timbre that growled at me to leave him alone when I wanted to talk. I shivered at the sound then burned off the fear, straightening up to push in front of Rick.

            He was both tall and slim, shoulders wide with arms built heavier than his legs, his tan natural, stopping at the t-shirt line at his neck, and hair a brown so deep it was almost black. His mouth stretched into a smile, a relieved laugh forcing through.
"There he is," he breathed. "Derek. I've missed you so much, my son."

            Five years it had been since I looked my father in the eye, and no deep-rooted love for him resurfaced in seeing him again. Hell, the seeds weren't even planted. He claimed to be a man who sacrificed for the good of his family, but he only sacrificed them for the good of himself. He functioned on nothing but greed and nicotine, burning the fuel in self-serving criminal acts.

            "You don't have the right to even look at him," mum snarled, stepping in front of me as Rick reeled me in with a slow movement of his arm, both parents maintaining a protective stance.
"Mia," whispered Rick, "get back."
"He's my son," Kane snarled. "I have the right to do as I wish."
"You have the right to walk away," Rick snapped. "You've hurt this boy enough – leave him alone!"

            I would have smiled at Rick defending me as he did, but as Kane took a step a glint at his side caught my eye; he was armed with a pistol. My heart dropped.

            "He's not your son," said Kane. "Don't act like he is."
"Daddy, what's going on?" asked Jade, tugging on her father's sleeve. "Why does he want Derek?"
"Not now, sweetheart," said Rick with a softness unfit for the current climate. Jade's questioning eyes met mine, but I gently pushed her behind me, the tension lingering in the air growing so strong I thought I would choke. I did not trust Kane with that weapon, and I was perfectly aware of how well he could use it.

            So well he got paid for it.

            "Why now?" said mum, a fire burning in her green-brown eyes that only Kane could ignite. "It's been years. If you really loved your son, you would leave him where he's happy."
Kane scoffed. "If you really love him, you wouldn't have let your hate drag him away from his father."
Her brows arched, ready for war. "My son will not be within a mile of a murderer."
"He is not just your son, Mia. You've had five years with him. No more. I want him back."
"No!"
"Hand him over, Mia," urged Kane, a violent edge to his tone, his right index finger twitching over the trigger. I pulled Jade in closer. "The boy needs a father."
"He has one," said Rick, lifting his chin. "Please, if you care about him at all, let him live his life in peace."
"Why don't you ask him what he has to say about this?" said Kane with a tight-lipped grin, looking at me. "Come on, boy. Don't be shy."

            Shoulders back with an inhale of courage, I stepped forward, stumbling into Rick's outstretched arm.
"No," he muttered. "Stay here."
"But—!" I shut my mouth. I was fifteen, desperate to stand up for myself against the pathetic excuse of a father whose face haunted my mother for years, but Rick was being protective. His eyes flitted from the gun at Kane's side then back to me. He was unhinged for his career choice, and furious at us. Any move could be incorrect.

            Jade's big brown eyes pleaded with me to stay, and mother reached out with her hand, stroking my shoulder without taking her eyes off Kane.

            I didn't need to get closer to face him. I was angry, but afraid. All those insecurities of people joking about my absent father came back. "I'm not going anywhere with you," I croaked.
"But I'm your family!" he begged. "We're all we have. Please just give me one more chance."
I shook my head, slowly but effectively. I didn't dare move quickly with the weapon eyeing me up.
"No more," I said. "You were no father to me even living under the same roof. Just leave.Live for yourself like you always have, you selfish prick."

            Like a landslide, the weight of my words crushed Kane. His eyes widened, all sense leaving him as he snarled through his teeth as an animal does. He threw up his arm, brandishing his gun in the winter moonlight with one furious movement, eyes locked on Rick with experienced precision.

            I dragged Jade towards me, hugging her close with my back to Kane as she squealed. Mum darted for Rick, landing in his open arms as a deafening bang cracked through the car park.

            The lamps flickered, and the air stilled.

            A deadly silence took the air from my lungs.

            Then there was a female gasp.

"Jade?" I looked down at her glassy eyes. She nodded as if to say she was okay, a tear rolling down her cheek

            Then she looked passed me – towards mum and Rick – and her features drained, void of all emotion.
"Mia..."

            I turned around to see mum slumped towards Ricks, quivering hands clutching her chest, heaving rough breaths.
My heart sunk. "Mum?"

            As she glanced over her shoulder at me, she lost her balance, falling further into Rick's unstable embrace. His knees buckled and he laid her on the floor, muttering her name in a broken tone.

            Mum blinked and tears poured. I knelt beside her, shaking so violently I feared I would pass out and disarm myself in helping. She held out a red-speckled hand, scarlet seeping through her uniform, through Rick's coat, and gathered in a puddle on the shiny black tarmac, flashing white beneath the watching moon.

            "Derek," she choked, blood painting the corners of her mouth red. "Derek, come here darling."

            Bile stung my centre, my throat, and my mouth, draining it of the ability to speak. All I knew was my mother's bloody, outstretched and quivering hand that reached for me – nothing more. Not even words.

            I took her hand, a thousand apologies strangling me.
"I—mum, I—"
"Shush, Derek," she whispered, forcing a smile even now. "Take—" She coughed, blood dripping down her chin. "Take care of the others. For me."
Breathless, I closed my eyes, holding back the dears. Jade was sobbing into my back – I had to be strong for her. "I will."
She sighed. "Good boy," she said. "You've... always been..."

            Her hand slipped through my fingers, streaking red across my palm. She paled, the rosiness of her cheeks vanishing and the glint in her eyes dulling into lifeless pits as she drew a fatal, final breath.

            "Mia?" whimpered Rick. "Oh, god no..."
"Mia," Kane gasped. I had forgotten he was there – he had faded into nothing, blending in with the shadows around him. "I didn't mean to— No, Mia! I—" He tossed the gun and strode back, stumbling over his own carelessness.

              I scowled at the man whose face was my own. His blood ran through, DNA staining my life like a vile poison I would have to live with, its very existence leaching off and draining me every single day.

              He claimed he loved me. He claimed he loved mother. But Kane had become so consumed in himself that everything he loved was doomed to die by his hands.

***

"Barnes. Barnes!"

            The voice was a safety net, saving me from my daze. Agent Knight had come back from her walk, face placid and unreadable. I tried not to get too excited at the sight of her returning, reminding myself that she returned to finish her job, not talk to me.

            The warmth I felt at her voice drained in an instant. "Agent," I said, straightening up from the table. My biceps turned stiff, and I groaned as I stood.
She took a breath, lips closing tightly as she exhaled. Thoughts vortexed around those storm-touched eyes of hers as she fought for the correct words to say, careful of what she let fall from her lips. "We've docked," she said, voice empty of the emotion her eyes gave away. She thought she held them back well, but you only needed to look – really look– to recognise she was not the empty husk others believed her to be.
I swallowed. "Oh." It was a mistake to let that out. It was just one word, but it told her that I cared, and that was unfair to both of us.
She held her head high, reinforcing the authority she held. "Let's go," she said.

            The emotionless figure I was looking at was the epitome of denial. Her words and efforts to become neutral again an anchor that dragged my heart to the bottom of the ocean, clutching at my chest so tightly I thought I would drown.

            She turned on her heel and headed for the exit, eyes on nothing but the floor.

            It was agonising watching her hold up that mask. So painful that I couldn't let her walk away without knowing.
"Agent!" I called, cutting through the silence. She stopped, showing she was prepared to hear what I was about to say, but straightened up her back, not looking at me.
"Do you—?" I choked on the word. "Do you hate me?"

            Her shoulders lifted then fell as she let out a breath, gaze staying fixed on the floor. She turned her head to the side as if to face me, and from the dim yellow light of the bar I could see the shine of her lips shift as they opened and closed, contemplating an answer.

            She shut them tightly. Her long exhale pushed away the long strand of hair that fell in front of her face, it landing in the exact same position on her nose.

            "Let's go," she repeated, hastily sweeping the strand away.

            Even if I dared to, there was no time to quip a joke, make a comment, or a pull a face to even get a glimpse of her smile, because she left the room just as swiftly and as silently as she entered it.

            The only explanation I could conjure was that she assumed I was lying. Perhaps she saw me as more than the deceiving, flirtatious and self-absorbed traitor Alistair told her I was, having faith in her own mind... and I betrayed that trust. Ironically, by telling the truth, she saw me as a liar again. And a traitor, but to her rather than Alistair.

            I groaned and rubbed my eyes. The truth always came out, even if it would not benefit me at all. I was entirely honest with her for maybe the first time since we met, and I could not regret that. All I regretted was that I spoiled our last few hours together. We had fun, got to know each other, and I thoroughly enjoyed her company.

            It was inevitable that I would return to Alistair, but his plan needed exposing, and the pettiest part of me once wanted to take Agent Knight's loyalty down with me. Just seeing the look on Alistair's face finding out his greatest pet was disloyal would be sublime, but that view had changed. All I desired now was for her to look at me as herself. If she still didn't trust me then so be it. But the only thing keeping her from really looking at her surroundings was her blind loyalty to Alistair, which broke me.

            It was out of my hands now. Nothing could change unless she acted herself.

            But just looking at her made me want to act in a way that would make me unrecognisable to even myself.