Sorry bout the same fifty-thousand grammatical errors (and spelling) it should be fixed.

A/N : alright, i'm just gonna get into it right now cuz its a long one.

HAPPY READING!

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*Song of the Chapter* : Hometown- Twenty Øne Piløts (woooo)

Moriarty POV

- Past-

Meeting a revengeful client at bar isn't necessarily my way of doing business, but then again...I'm in America.

I guess in all honesty, I wasn't surprised.

I opened the door to a bar called 'Five O Clock Somewhere' which was the only bar in rural Salt Lake City. In an instant, my nostrils were full of cigarette smoke, making me cough slightly into my fist.

There was some sort of...Hawaii themed dance floor in the middle of the bar. There was even a DJ tabletop.

I raised an eyebrow, ready to leave and keep my reputation that I had left in myself. There was a single bar table with a mixer shaking drinks for absolutely no one. They were all on the tables on the other side, eating mozzarella sticks and french fries.

The strong stench of grease, invaded the cigarette smoke, making me gag.

This guy better come fast or we'll have a problem.

I sat myself down on one of the stools that were lined up with the rest. Where I was seated, the smell wasn't as bad. I mean, I could breathe, but it was still threatening to make me throw up.

The bar-tender put down the random drink he was mixing and slid it toward me.

"Thanks." I cautiously said, peering down at the drink in disgust. "Could I just get a water?"

"Once you drink that gone." His accent penetrated me. It was so thick...and American. Like...southern and foreign and gross. I really hoped he wouldn't break into a song about freedom, trucks and beer.

He turned his back, and I threw the cup's contents over my shoulder. I have to admit, I expected it to burn through the floor in a liquid-y mess of steam and burning wood. All it did was sit next to me.

The bar-tender turned around and gave me a look. I smacked my lips as if I had just drank the mix. Dang Americans, and their peer pressure.

"Could I have the water, now?" I politely asked. He raised an eyebrow, and pulled out a glass and nozzle. The nozzles had buttons with an assortment of carbonated and alcoholic drinks. He pushed the small one at the bottom with a handmade label reading 'Wuss Water'.

Great. Now the USA thinks I'm a wuss.

I checked my watch. It was almost nine at night and it was obvious my client was running late. I'm pretty sure I had specifically told him I prefer punctuation when I'm meeting someone. Especially when it has to do with revenge, that's a hearty topic.

The man had called me up on my business phone. Some police officer in Salt Lake City, had killed his brother under the orders of a famous politician who was staying in the area, for exploiting his plans for a nuclear bomb with the president. That politician got away with both murder and the plans for the nuclear bomb.

He would pay me millions, all for my men to go and track down the politician and police officer and simply kill him. Plus, I'd get those plans for the nuclear bomb. Just for decoration of course. Building a nuclear weapon such as a bomb takes money and work. Of course, I wipe my nose with one-hundred dollar bills, but I'm simply to lazy. Although just building it would keep the world on its toes, wouldn't it?

I told you, revenge is a hearty topic.

The door opened, I had gotten no message on the intercom placed in my ear to leave.

No one has ever gotten to me, and I intend it to stay that way.

I have spies stationed around the entire building. If they have any sign of him, I was to leave his line of sight, and call him. I was to arrange everything on the phone, at least sixty feet away from my client, Joseph Beaumont.

Three girls made their way over o the bar-tender. Two of which, were obvious regulars and blonde, as they said greeted almost everyone by name and might I add, extremely ugly. The other looked uncomfortable. A permanent look of disgust was plastered on her obviously beautiful face, such as I had.

The two girls who were regulars wore extremely short shorts, and flimsy shirts. Their blonde hair was done up in messy-buns and obviously was poorly died. The other wore jeans, a black sweatshirt and had her brown-almost black hair hanging loose, in a professional way.

The two girls had plastered make-up on their faces, which made them look like clowns. The other wore nothing fake on hers but reading glasses.

They grew closer and closer, and the timid woman's disgust grew less and less, as she sat down a seat away from me, as there were only five. She pulled put a book and was instantly drowned in her pages. I was snapped from my phase, when I heard something on my intercom.

"Cautious 419. We can't confirm it to be subject." The tiny voice rang. Another one as picked up.

"Cautious 419, access denied, false alarm." I groaned internally. He still wasn't here.

The bar tender stood in front of me.

"It's not everyday you see that." He indicated towards the girl. I half-smiled for a second.

"I find it quite admirable." I replied.

"Of course you do." He gave me a look, and pushed my water closer to me. Something about her intrigued me. It may have been the concentration of her face, or the way the light shined on her, but whatever it was, it kept messing with my head.

The buzz I normally felt always in my brain, calmed. I scoffed, the buzz returning, when I had cleared the thoughts out of my head. I was growing impatient and I let that emotion take drive.

Until a calming voice spoke,

"You wanna leave too, huh." The voice was strong, and melodious. I turned my head to look at the girl who was still reading her book. I looked to my other side, and all around to see if she was, in fact, the one talking to me. No one was near me. I looked back at her.

"Yeah. I've never really been to one. By myself." I truthfully told her. It was true, I hardly ever went to bars in London. She nodded sympathetically and took off her glasses.

Her eyes were a stunning gray that resembled a stormy sky. The mixture of blue and a gray that overpowers every color. when he swaying light would turn towards us, her eyes became more of white rimmed with gray then the actual gray itself. They almost made me want to confess of all my sins like I was standing in the presence of God's head angel herself.

Almost.

"Well, why are you here?" The woman raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you here?" I challenged, raising an eyebrow of my own. She grinned at me, her smile radiant. Her teeth had a small (and I mean small) but noticeable gap which really suited her.

"Touché!" She laughed. When she laughed, it felt like fireworks were going off, also fireworks were going off. (an: sorry, just had to put the fireworks thing in, don't take it seriously. fireworks were not going off anywhere)

"I'm only here because of my friends. They literally dragged me out of my work." She rolled her eyes, playfully.

"Not meaning to be rude, but what kind of a place do you work at that allows jeans and a sweatshirt?" I gave her a look.

She put her hand over her heart and widened her mouth, teasingly. "I am astonished you would insult me like that!" She laughed. "No, its all good. I work at a book shop.' She shrugged her shoulders.

"Do you like your job? That's the important part."

"Surprisingly, yeah! I actually do! I've kept the same job since I was fifteen years old."

"Well, you must like it then!" I couldn't believe I was having a conversation with someone about jobs without getting disgusted by the human race.

"I'm mostly love it because I can read all the new books that stop by. We do this sort of Barnes and Noble thing with a built in coffee house, but us employees have to switch shifts there and I'm really the only employee. There's another one, but he's hardly there. His mother forces him to work there because he lives in their basement and plays video games all day." The woman laughed.

"That's unfortunate." I began to have to raise my voice over the music which was turned up because the two friends riled up the food-eating crowd and they were all dancing on the tired-looking dance floor that had a slight smell of vomit. "What's the book you're reading now?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Oh this is my favorite!" The stranger exclaimed. I half-expected it to be some kind of sappy-romance novel. This was not the case. "To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee. A riveting tale of racial injustice in a small town. Always a good one. I also really love John Grisham."

"So you like books about law and order?" I gave her a look.

"What? And you don't?" She teased.

"Law just isn't for me." And by for me I mean I don't have a good run-in with it.

"Ah." She nodded her, head, slightly smiling. "I went to law school for three months. I got in a really bad accident over break and just...couldn't handle school like I used to. So I went back home. I majored in financial justice, the one kind of lawyer lawyers didn't want to be." Her small laughter drowned out the sound of the music. The girl smiled at me as I chuckled at her humor.

"What about you, Mr. Talk-a-tive. Why are you here?" She interjected.

"I'm just supposed to meet someone here. Pretty sure they're not coming any time soon though. Let alone...at all." I looked around the bar.

"Aw, cheer up chap. You'll find someone else." She faked sympathy, smiling goofily.

"Oh, I'm not on a date with someone here. God, this a terrible choice for a date here anyways. Not at all romantic, in any way." I shook my head, as I outstretched my arms to indicate the bar.

"Well. I've heard their burgers are too die for. Literally, I think they hospitalized someone." The woman raised an eyebrow. I laughed for the second time this evening. I don't think I've felt this much joy with someone. It was...different.

A good kind of different.

Almost cliche-ily some of the girl's friends, stumbled their way over, it was obvious they were drunk.

"Greta!" They shouted simultaneously. Greta must be the woman's name. One of the skimpy girls made eye contact with me, and strutted over towards me. I looked away, hoping she would leave me alone.

That was not the case.

She began to play with my face. I looked around the bar for one of my spies to take he girl away from me. She began to giggle, and hiccuped.

"Your face is...-hiccup-...squishhhh..." I swatted her hands away. Greta tried her best to hide her laughs.

"Joanna! Leave him alone!" She interrupted while laughing. The girl just stuck out her tongue and continued to invade my space. I was beyond thankful when one of my spies had finally made his way over and invited her to dance. Joanna accepted, thank God.

"Greta!" The other girl whined, taking her hands and started to try and pull Greta off of her stool. "Come dance with all of us!"

"Um, no thank you." She politely declined. "I'm not very comfortable with all of those people there and-" she was interrupted by a finger on her lips.

"Shhhhhhh...heh heh..once you have a couple of shots, you'll forget they're even there! Besides, we've all talked, right?" She began vigorously nodding her head, and signaled for me to do the same. Greta looked over at me. "We've all..." she began to giggle which became a fit of laughter and then nothing, "talked, and we're okay...with the fa-" she burped, "-act...that you dress like a virgin! And we're okay with that. You can come out of your-hiccup- virgin closet and come daaaAAAAaance!"

"Well Renee, seeming that I am a virgin I think I'll stay right here-" she was interrupted by both her friends tugging her towards the dance floor. Joanna just stood at the edge of the floor where she had successfully drowned Greta in people and waved at me.

I rolled my eyes and got off my seat, going to the bathroom.

"I'll wait for you!" She cried. I shook my head, and kicked open the door to the bathroom where all I wanted was to splash water on my face. I turned the rusty faucet but all the water that came out was brown and at times would stop all together.

I figured I didn't want face-salmonella so I turned off the water, and just tried to wait the crowd. Maybe Joseph Beaumont would show up while I'm in here. I sighed. Then when he s up I'll strangle him with my bare hands or poison his drink for making me stay longer here than I originally wanted to, which mind you was zero minutes, let alone hours.

My dreams of many ways to kill Beaumont were interrupted by a scream from the dance-floor. I cautiously made my way outside the bathroom, I had a good view of the dance-floor and while no one else was shaken by the blood-curdling scream, I sure was.
A tiny blob sat in the middle of the floor, legs crossed and hands over her ears, I recognized the brown hair and the jeans with a sweatshirt.

Greta.

I pushed past people to get to her. Her friend, Renee was in the opposite side of the bar, and Joanne was sitting on my stool. Not one of her friends were going to take Greta from her state.

But someone had to. I don't know what came over me, but something did. I touched Greta's shoulder. She was unresponsive and began to clutch her chest. Her breathing was shortened.

"Greta? I'm getting you out of here!" I said, as softly as I could over the music. I grabbed one of her hands as she continued to use the other to clutch her chest. She stood up with me, and slowly began to take tentative steps towards the glass door of the bar.

I pressed a button on my intercom and spoke into it. "Abort." I simply said, as I was able to get Greta out of the very place we both hated.

Outside was a good idea, until people decided they wanted a smoke. I had to get Greta away from the smoke as her breaths were already short.

It s uncomfortable for me to just stand there, as I had never really helped someone like I had helped Greta, and to be honest, I liked being around her.

I sat her down on a bench before an open cafe. Her breathing slowed and became less shallow.

"Alright. There. Now no one can get in your space. You can breathe now." I tried. I didn't dare sit next to her, just so she could feel she had space. Plus, I was technically a stranger. She began to slowly nod her head.

"Yeah. Okay, thanks. My heart just hurts a little." She winced, then somewhat laughed. "a lot." She fixed. "Do you know where my book is?"

"It's inside, but I hardly think I should leave you alone out here." I shook my head, looking back to the wild bar.

"Yeah. That's probably not a good idea. It was nuts in there." She continued to chuckle. "What time is it?" She suddenly asked, jumping in her seat, but winced, clutching her heart again and sitting back down.

I checked my watch, it was still in England time so I had to subtract it to American.

"10:30...ish?" I wavered. She sighed.

"I was not planning this whole ten thirty bar thing." She huffed, her breath becoming fog in the air which danced along our heads. Greta tucked her sweatshfirt in closer. I could tell she was trying to not shiver.

As if I wasn't even controlling myself, my coat was off. "Here." I said, softly. "You can wear it. I mean, it's almost...ah, what is it called...it's almost thirty degrees Fahrenheit, and you only have a sweatshirt!"

"You're not American? Oh duh, the accent!" She slapped her forehead, still not taking the coat.

"U.K." I clarified, and outstretched my hand, insisting she take the coat. She looked over at it, almost sizing it up and hesitantly took the coat, losing the battle against Mother Nature. She wrapped it around her sweatshirt, and the overcoat seemed to be her style.

"Thank you. For everything. And yet, I don't know your name!" She teased, and outstretched her hand for me to shake. "Greta Levine." She nodded, as I happily took her hand in my own shaking it once. Her hand was warm and soft, and our hands almost seemed to fit well with each other...wait a minute...what am I getting at?

"I'm James." I introduced myself, thinking it best to leave out the last name.

"I like that name!" She exclaimed. "It seems very...British!" Greta teased.

"And I like yours! It seems very...American." I joked back. She laughed, and her laughter was a it contagious as I seemed to find myself chucking.

"Hey Greta!" A voice yelled from across the street. As the door opened, you could hear a small bit of Eye of the Tiger and then it slammed shut, leaving the streets quiet except for Renee's, Greta's friend, heels that clacked on the pavement as she crossed it over to us. "I brought your stupid book!" She hiccuped when she reached us, throwing the book at, but I caught it before it could reach her, nicely handing it back to Greta. She smiled gratefully.

Renee turned towards me, and poked her pointer finger into my chest. "I know you," she slurred. "You're the guy from the bar-ar-r. Ha! Ha ha! You my friend...know it...mhm...you...you get it! Ha! He gets it!" She began to laugh and walked back to the bar.

When she was out of earshot, Greta and I began to laugh hysterically. Greta was almost wiping tears out of her eyes. Her face suddenly went serious,

"I really need to get new friends, James."

AN: WOOP THREE THOUSAND WORDS! and double woops for drunk Renee!

This is how the book is formatted. It weaved in and out of present and future. Past is more of the love story of Greta and Moriarty, and present is more of the original story line

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