Wordless and uncomfortable, we made it back to the cabin without another incident. I slumped straight into the velvet, wine seat, sinking into the cushion, enjoying the warmth of something that wasn't a person. Barnes closed the door and leaned against it, tapping his foot.

            "How long's left of this train journey, anyway?" he asked.
I failed at masking the anguish in my tone. "Seven hours," I said.
Barnes groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Perfect," he sighed.

            'Perfect' indeed. Seven more hours of unpleasant silence with Barnes in a single boxy room. What could have been better than that?

            He eyed up the long stretch of velvet. "We might as well get comfortable."

            He swung backwards, falling into the cushions beside me. I shifted to the side in an instant.

            "What are you doing?" I asked.
"What I said: getting comfortable," he explained as though it was obvious. This was not the comfort I was content with.

            Exhaling in frustration, I put my hand on the seat to shuffle to one side. As though silently replying, Barnes leaned his head against the darkened train window, putting his feet up on the seat – across my lap.

            I flinched and shoved his legs away.

            "What?" He gawped at me.
"There's a perfectly good seat over there," I snapped, emphasising the gesture I directed at the seat opposite us.
"Really?" said Barnes, raising his eyebrows, acting oblivious. "Good. You should go sit there."
I scoffed. "Me? I was here first."
"Good for you. I'm here now."

            He tried dazzling me with a smile as he leaned back to rest his legs, eyes fluttering closed. I was having none of it. With a scowl, I threw them off me again.

            Barnes growled. "Can you not?" he snapped, forcing his legs over me again.
"Can you not?" I retorted, more vicious in throwing them away. His feet hit the floor with a thud and Barnes glared at me. "If you want to put your feet up," I hissed, "go sit over there."
"But I want to sit here." He pouted.
"Why? What's so special about sitting here?"
He shrugged. "Because you want to sit here."

            Barnes draped his feet over my lap again, the right side of his mouth stretching to a smirk. This was why I didn't want my boundaries to be crossed. He now thought he had the right to do things such as this.

            I sighed – he believed that I had given up. However, I felt something in the left pocket of my coat; something that made my lips curl into a cruel smile.

            "What?" he asked, fearful. "What are you smiling at?"

            I slipped my hand into my pocket and brandished the taser in the light of the hanging wall lamp.

            "How would you feel about—?"

            He leapt from the seat and smacked against the floor, scrambling to his feet and throwing himself on the opposite sofa.

            "I've gone! I've gone!"

            My smile grew and I put the taser back, making myself comfortable. When I adjusted my position, hands pressed into the velvet, I looked up. Barnes was studying me with intent eyes.

            "You're a unique one, Miss Knight," he said.
I leaned back in my seat, peering at him through my lashes, letting out a laugh. "I could say the same thing about you, Barnes."

            I shuffled towards the arm of the chair and rested my chin on a closed fist, taking small pleasure in the crisp air creeping through the gaps in the glass. Although I looked out onto the silhouettes of the French countryside doused in rain, I could see the Barnes's tight-lipped smile from the corner of my eye, which faded as the feeling of joy he held onto wore off.

***

With close to six hours left on the train, my eyelids had become heavy and sore, weighing down my will to stay awake. Staring out the window could only entertain you for so long, and watching over a resting Barnes had become a strenuous task. It had been a long day. From walking, to fighting, to travelling, the both of us had exhausted ourselves. I didn't blame him for taking a moment to sleep – in fact, I envied him.

            Resting the temptation to give into the tiredness drained enough energy alone, and the rhythmic drumming of the train rumbling along the tracks made me drowsy. The warmth did not help either.

            Heat resided on my perspiring forehead and cheeks. I wiped it away with the back of my hand, but it only came back a moment later. Every muscle in my body ached, and the fight in the maintenance cart had catalysed the throbbing pain in my shoulder that struck even when I fidgeted about in an attempt to distract myself from it.

            I locked my eyes on the dark glass of the window as I leaned my head against the cabin wall. Finding something to focus on, I picked two raindrops that paused their run at the same point on the glass; the same starting line. Then they were off. The two raced down the glass and I made an internal bet on the left droplet. I lost.

            The one on the right had a sudden spark of energy and dropped, stroking the glass with a watery trail over where my opaque shadow of a reflection watched the event. When I caught sight of it, I turned my head to the side, reaching for the warm, orange wall lamp just to darken the cabin a flicker.

            As the light diminished, I was able to admire the scenery with more clarity without my reflection disrupting the view. I could only spy faint outlines, but it was enough. Spiked spruce silhouettes bared their branches around the blanketing hills that tucked themselves into the ground, folding warmly around the countryside. Between them all stretched a winding lake. It twisted and turned through the hills like an ebony ribbon of silk as the waning moon casted a shimmering, ethereal glow on the placid waters.

            I blinked, my eyes fluttering shut for longer than I intended. It was moments such as this that made me love my job. The moments of calm bliss that let me bask in the environment I had been assigned to. It was easy to forget about all the good in the world when your job thrust you into the worst parts of it.

            While travelling for work, I only experienced the dark thread of secrets woven underground every country, from the violent hired muscle to the corrupt politicians sitting beside world leaders. As I had told Barnes, it was rare for me to have the time to explore thoroughly the jewels of every state, diamonds hidden beneath the streets of towns and cities. I never had the chance to gawk at the famed Mona Lisa, wander the winding halls of the Vatican or shop on the bustling street of La Ramblas. Not once had I felt the sugary bite of Rome's own gelato or sunk my teeth into the flaky shell of an authentic Parisian pastry. Never had I ever been offered the time to reflect in front of Santorini's sunset with nothing but the crushing of the waves and melody of a gentle breeze.

             But that was life. I had my place in it, and that was not among those mundane wishes. My purpose was to serve my country and the lives within it. If I had to give up my own desires to do that, then so be it.

              I shivered and closed my eyes, giving in to the fatigue with those final contemplative thoughts.

***

When I woke up two hours later, my body was both stiff and toasty warm. When I glanced down at my legs, feeling a weight pressed against me, I noted the soft black coat covering them, trapping the heat. I pushed it off me gently with a frown, leaving it on the seat, and stretched.

            I hissed in pain as my shoulder was hit with a stab of intense heat. I swiftly rubbed it in a hasty attempt to numb the pain, wincing as my hand touched the skin.

            Perhaps the wound was deeper than I thought.

            Sighing, I glanced up to check on Barnes, then froze.

            I was alone.

            My entire body shot up in an instant, pain ripping through my shoulder so viciously I had to bite down on my cheek to avoid crying out.

            I grabbed the head of the seat, holding back a whimper. My arm turned numb, and I dug my nails into the velvet to will feeling back into the limb. If only it was my shoulder that lost feeling instead.

            The pain calmed to a bearable level. I let go of the seat and straightened up to tear off my coat. I moved the neck of my top down my shoulder, wincing as the threads of cotton tugged on the jagged, open wound.

            It looked bad. An area the size of a fist surrounding the wound had turned a deep crimson, with the skin feeling both hot and tender. Within the cut was a sickening mixture of red and yellow that made my head spin at the sight of it. I swallowed, letting out a breath as I worked up the courage to poke it.

            I regretted it instantly. Pain shot across my shoulder, arm and neck as though I had been shot.

            "Agent."

            I yanked back my top, covering the torn and battered skin. I grabbed my coat and threw it over me to ensure nothing could be seen.

            "Barnes," I said, pulling the coat over my shoulders.
He lowered his brows gently. "Are you—?"
"Where have you been?" I snapped. He wiped off his concern and grinned proudly.
"M'lady." He tossed me whatever he was holding: a book.

            I turned it over in my hands, scanning the blurb with a frown. It was a crime novel. A new one by an author that I had not heard of, but I was sure I read the title on a poster back at the train station.

            "What's this for?" I asked.
He shrugged. "For buying me food."
"Why would you get me this?" My voice broke. "I'm dragging you across two countries to lock you up. If Alistair gets his way, you'll never be free again."
He opened then shut his mouth, contemplating. "I may be on the wrong side of your boss, but that doesn't make me a bad person." My loyalty to Alistair disagreed, but the flutter in my chest protested that thought. "I can be nice sometimes."

            I read the blurb again and skimmed a four-star review from an author I recognised above the barcode. "You know I like to read."
"You give that impression," he replied with a smile. "And I saw you looking at the books in the station."
I chewed on my lip to hold down a smile. "Alright, Sherlock. Can I expect this to blow up in my face when I open the cover?"
Barnes scoffed. "You wound me." He clutched his chest, trying his best to sound hurt. "You really do have a low opinion of me. Even after I just saved your life."
That one hit. But I had to know— "You didn't have to do that. But you did." He saved my life when he could have easily escaped. "Why?"
He did not anticipate the question. His lips stretched into a forced half-smile feigning confidence. "I guess I just really liked the steak here. Felt like I owed you for it."

            Then it clicked. The moment in which he pulled me away from the hostile had overridden any other questions I had stored away for a post-fight conversation between myself and Barnes. After what happened, I couldn't bring myself to speak to him. Now that I had passed that feeling, I remembered what I needed to know.

            Barnes had barely reacted to being hunted. Almost as if he was not surprised by it. He didn't think anyone would come after us in the helicopter, but his attitude had changed.

            "Who attacked us?" I asked. "It's not the agency, so don't say it's us."
"I can't tell you that," he replied. So he knew. Even if he didn't anticipate it before, he expected it now. Alistair knew but, like Barnes, he did not care to tell me.
"I'm not taking that as an answer."
He scoffed, even laughing a little as he turned his head to the side. Then his smile faded. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. But I'll tell you this—" He took a step forward, took close for my liking. I held my ground. "—I have more enemies than you can imagine, reaching far beyond your agency. And I don't doubt that if you truly knew what the organisation you serve has become, you would share them."
I narrowed my eyes. "Then tell me. Tell me what the agency has become."
"And face more punishments from Alistair because I fed my own poisonouswords to his pet? Don't look at me like that. Everyone knows he favours you."
I wiped my expression, clenching my jaw. He was assuming how I would react. Maybe I wouldn't have believed him, but I still deserved to know. "Don't act like you know me. You know nothing about me."
"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "Because I know that you hate my guts only because Alistair says you should. I know you think the worst of people, maybe because that's what you've seen, so you sleep with a gun under your pillow. You didn't do that back at the inn because you were guarding me. You're far too comfortable with it for that to be a one-off." I fell back on my heel. "I know the agency is your life. You trust it more than others because you are, and always have been since you joined, Alistair's favourite."

            I took a breath.

            "Now Miss Knight, answer me this: if I told you to question everything you hold dear, everything you stand for, would you? Because from what I've seen, Alistair comes first. Your own integrity is second."

            No. No it didn't. My morals aligned with Alistair's – they didn't challenge them. All he was doing was showing me why I had to get a grip on myself. I had let my guard down for a brief moment of weakness and forgotten how manipulative Barnes must have been to stab the agency in the back so easily. Alistair was right.

            I opened my mouth, a squeak leaving my throat as my body turned hot. I blinked and stepped back, the room spinning.

            "Agent," Barnes said, his voice low and quiet as he ducked his head down to reach my height. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine!" I snapped, rubbing my forehead. "I'm just tired. That's all."

            He opened his mouth to protest, being cut off by the shrill chiming of my phone. I ignored his face as I answered the call.

            "Collins," I said.
"Thank God you answered." He let out a sigh.
I tensed. He was never nervous. "Collins, what's wrong? Is everything okay?"
"Yes! No. I... I don't know."

            He paused and hushed his voice. "There's something wrong at the agency," he said. "Agents have been going missing."
"Missing?" I stepped back from Barnes. "How many?"
"Fourteen in three months, including Barnes," Collins explained. "A friend of mine, Agent Davis, told me a friend– another agent – hasn't been seen in a month. No check-ins, no calls or reports – nothing. I asked Alistair about it and he said it was classified information, but another agent questioned me, rather viciously in fact, on where her friend was station. So I, uh, I told Gabby that Alistair had granted me permission to access his account."
"You lied to Gabby?" I asked in disbelief.
"She won't like it. But I was desperate. So many are missing. On Alistair's computer, there is a list of names. Those I was looking for were on there, with Barnes at the bottom of that list."
I frowned at Barnes, who cocked his head at my look. "Is there any indication as to why they've gone missing?"
I could hear fast tapping on a keyboard. "No. Nothing. All I know is that thirteen other agents have vanished without a trace, leaving Barnes as the only connection left."
"Well what else can we—" Barnes and I were attacked. Twice. Barnes refused to tell me who by, but Alistair knew as well. The link between the list and our attack was Barnes. Maybe this group that tailed us was the reason for so many agent's disappearances, and a greater conspiracy threatened many others.

            "Collins, Barnes and I were attacked on the train."
His tone changed. "Attacked?"
"Someone tried to poison us then pulled a knife out. No civilians saw, don't worry, but what if this attack is connected to that list?"
"Alistair would not tick names off a kill list and take you down as collateral. I do not believe for a second that he would do that."
"That's not what I'm saying," I replied quickly.

            Alistair valued his agents, and he trusted me to get the job done. He specifically ordered Barnes to be returned to him alive, therefore anyone wanting to silence the rogue agent had labelled themselves an enemy of either Barnes or Alistair. With the knowledge of that list and other missing agents, it was hard to imagine any random enemy of Barnes tracking us down. Only agents had the resources to find those names.

            Meaning they were within the agency itself.

            Breath hitched in my throat. "Collins, what if we have a traitor in the agency?"
A pause. "It's plausible," he admitted. "Perhaps those on this list have been working together, and those hostile to you both want to silence them, including Barnes."

             It made some sense. Barnes and the other thirteen agents knew something that sent them into hiding, and each agent found themselves wanted by two parties: the agency and the group following Barnes and myself; the group with the traitor. If that was the case, Alistair needed Barnes to determine who the traitor was. Perhaps his reasoning for turning himself in was to save his own life as opposed to anything else. Knowing crucial information was not enough to be deemed as rogue – something else must have happened – but the story fit well enough for me to lean into it.

            "If what we believe is true," Collins went on, "then we have to be careful. We still have a traitor among us."
"It could be anyone."
"...Yes."
"But those other thirteen agents... I don't believe fourteen went rogue in the past couple of months."
"No, neither do I," he replied. There was a sigh. "Thirteen lives unaccounted for. Even if they were traitors, Alistair should have that on record."
"What do we do?"
"I... I don't know. What would you suggest?"
I blinked, mind blank for a moment. He was my superior. He should not have been asking for help, but I supposed he was under a lot of stress. "Take this to Alistair," I advised. "Maybe he can give some insight into the group we are dealing with."
"And find out what happened to the others," he added. "No-one harms our agents and gets away with it."
"I agree," I said.
"Take care, agent," said Collins.
"You too."

            I ended the call.

            For a few seconds, I stared at the blank screen, then turned the device over in my hand a couple of times, every revolution bringing back thoughts about that list. Every agent that had vanished had their name on it – all of them were missing apart from Barnes. Alistair's explanation for this had to be good, because it had left his closest agents – Collins and myself – absolutely stumped. Barnes knew something that Alistair wanted to know. The hostiles that followed us had to be working against the Director. Both had a dislike of Barnes, evidently, but chose to approach it in different ways.

            Alistair would tell me the whole story, I assured myself. I just had to be patient and trust that he was ready to give me the answers I needed.

            "You look uneasy," said Barnes. I wondered for a moment if he was mocking me or showing genuine concern.

            Without replying, I sat down to flick through the pages of the book he handed me earlier. I stopped turning them when I passed the acknowledgements and title page, and reached the first chapter.

            I felt Barnes's face draw near. "Has it exploded yet?" he asked, his mouth inevitably stretching into that amused smirk of his.
I forced a smile. "I regret to inform you; your plan has failed."
"Damn it!" he cursed as he jumped up. "I really thought that would work." He rested his hands on his hips like a diva, shaking his head in disapproval. "Maybe I'll try exploding waffles next time."

            I lifted the book to hide my amused smile. My eyes flickered upwards after reading the first short paragraph, catching Barnes frowning at my shoulder, despite it now being covered.

            "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked.
I nodded. "Of course," I said as I resisted the urge to rub my shoulder, easing the prickling pain that ran across it. Every mention or thought of it made the wound flare up in anger, only making the matter worse. No good would have come from making a fuss.

            Barnes bit his tongue and folded his arms with a slouch back down into his seat. I turned back to the book, ignoring his perplexed stare as I willed myself to stay awake, pain cumulating in my shoulder by the minute and draining every ounce of energy I had left.