June 2004: Surrey

I grimaced as my footsteps echoed on the aluminium staircase. It was agonising; far too loud to get away with. No matter how delicately I treaded down those steps, the sound still occurred. It hurt my ears to listen, but I traipsed on.

            Father's work had always been shrouded with the unknown. Before mum passed, his project was a simple thought in the back of my skull – a fact irrelevant to the growing mind of a child – but in recent weeks, the work came to me first. Deliveries often arrived during the night, and meetings were held in line with school hours, but not anymore.

            This change began with one visitor – a middle-aged round man donning a white coat and tiny spectacles – arriving unannounced at the dinner table on a Monday evening to discuss a matter of great importance with father. I didn't dare open my mouth to protest when he excused himself from the table and headed downstairs into his lab with the stranger. I was comfortable enough eating on my own, but found it odd that work would slot itself in the timetabled hours dad and I would spend quietly together. Even if only complimentary, these rare times were met religiously. It was his sole opportunity to check my grades, critique my homework and slam a textbook in front of me to repeat any studies if necessary.

            His work often dragged on into the late hours of the night, but he was always alone. So, when I heard the shouting that shook the walls of the house, I couldn't just turn over and go back to sleep. I pulled myself out from the warm yet rough blankets and set out down the cold, dark staircase.

            The shouting had come from father. He was a man of few words, favouring a quiet and bitter lecture over a roaring rant, so I was startled when I heard him.

"The funding was to be delivered weeks ago! And here we are building another site, running on pennies."
The victim in question was a young woman; tall and slim, dressed head to toe in a beautiful designer tan trench coat. She kept her head held high, back straight but her brown eyes glinted in fear from the lecture some may have called a threat. "I made a mistake, alright? People make them! It won't happen again."
"Our organisation does not tolerate mistakes." The hissing of the voice caught me off guard. It was white-coated man I had seen visiting dad on occasion.
Father's voice levelled. "Maybe we should find a more reliable benefactor."
The woman crossed her arms, hugging her torso tight. "I can fix this! Just give me more... time. Knight?"

            Her arched brows knitted together as she angled herself towards the short intruder. Father spun around in a single motion as the white-coated man nodded his head in my direction, not possessing a single care for the sleepy-eyed little girl.

            "Father...?"
The woman's frown deepened. "You have a child, Marcus?"

            Father stormed over, shoving passed his two associates with a twisted expression. I had been told time and time again to not go downstairs. I should never have gone.

            "Amber, what the hell are you doing?"
"I-I heard shouting." The only sentence I could throw up from the mess of words shooting around in my head. "I wanted to see if you were alright."
"I've told you countless times to stay away from here, no matter the circumstance. Yet, you choose to disrupt my work."
"That's not what I—I'm sorry."

            His sigh strapped an anchor to my heart that never really detached.

            "Your incompetence is disappointing. I wonder if you can do anything right."

***

I fell back into reality as another explosion fired in the distance with the same unbearable lump in my throat I had that night in the lab. Marcus did not care for the whimper that left my lips, nor the quivering of my hands as he gripped my shoulders and marched me back to bed. I cried alone for hours in the dark and returned to school the next morning with nothing short of my usual demeanour. If I could do that back then, I could do it now without the stain of tears down my cheeks.

            He spoke to me as if I was nothing that day. I was not his child, not his family – not even a person. I was simply nothing. Another added frustration putting strain on his lifetime dream to change humanity.

            The words cut deeper than any other blade could, but I would prove him wrong and Alistair right. I was something; not the scared little girl confused as to why her own father could be so cruel, but an agent willing to do what was necessary for those she served. I could do something right, and that would be to find Barnes.

            My shoulder throbbed as I skulked through the woods, gun hanging lazily at my left side. I didn't call out for him once; if I did, there was nothing stopping him from running away in the opposite direction. Alistair may have had some criticism waiting for me when I returned to the agency for unlocking Barnes's handcuffs, but I had no choice. It was impossible to open a parachute without the use of your hands, and the Director wanted him alive.

            I hated putting my faith in a traitor – a traitor that got to live when my best friend didn't – but what other option was there?

            I clenched my jaw as I pressed on. Barnes had to be useful somehow. Because if Scotty died for the life of a deserter—

            "Agent Knight!"

            With a swift movement, I drew my gun and pointed it towards the trees, aiming it at the skull of Derek Barnes.
"Woah!" His hands shot up for me to ceasefire. "I surrendered, remember?"

            I burned at the way his lips quirked at the violent reflex, but not in the way I had burned up when I first laid eyes on him in the casino. No. This wasn't just burning. This was an incineration from the inside. A flaring pain that needed cleansing.

            I raised my chin and held my breath as Barnes stiffened, not daring to open his mouth. I was boiling over with both hot and cold anger coursing through my veins. My finger twitched over the trigger. All it would take was a single tug to cash in a debt I was owed. An eye for an eye, a life for a life.

            Then the agency would become blind.

            If I acted on emotion and yanked back the trigger, Barnes failed to be of any use to the agency and the mission would have been pointless. Scotty's death would have been pointless. I would not for one second have allowed any moment of his life to be considered a waste.

            My arm grew heavy and I let it drop with a quiet groan.

            When he thought he was safe, Barnes let out a sigh. "You had me there, agent." He almost laughed at the fear. He laughed.Bastard. Cocky, inconsiderate bastard. "Now what do we do?"

            That was enough. I snapped like a dry, dead branch.

            I dropped the gun before temptation corrupted me entirely and channelled all that pent-up anger into the strongest left hook I could bare to swing.

            A bone cracked in my hand as my fist connected with his sharp jaw.

            Barnes groaned in pain, taking a disoriented step back as he held his head and winced. I was desperate to let out a cry as pain fired up my hand and wrist. The lunge was strong but uncontrolled, likely damaging the tendons somehow. I refused to show him any weakness. Instead, I grit my teeth and watched him wallow in his own pain, not letting him see that I had suffered for it almost as much as he had.

            "That,"I spat, "was for Scotty."

            His face softened, something coruscating in his eyes that I mistook for genuine pity. I had hit my head as I burst through the clearing. I was deluded, my brain too fogged to read emotions as I usually did.

            His hand dropped from his jaw, revealing the red mark that would bruise overnight. Good.

            "Look." He sighed. "I'm sorry about your friend. I really,trulyam. But this wasn't my doing. I didn't think anyone would come after me again when you caught me."

            I shook my head dismissively and pulled the handcuffs out from my coat pocket, gesturing for him to hold out his hands without meeting his eyes.

            The cuffs locked. "I don't want your pity," I choked, tightening the handcuffs.
"Then what do you want?" he asked.
His eyes lingered on mine, waiting for me to look as I let go of his wrists. With all my willpower, I forced a look to make him see it; the pain and the grief. He led those fighter jets to us. Without him, we would never have been intercepted and shot down.
My voice was barely a croak as I willed the words out.
"I want my best friend back."

***

Silence hung over the two of us as I guided Barnes through the woods. He only opened his mouth twice to ask how much further it would be until we reached our destination, then pressed further to question where it was we were actually going. Even if I knew the answer, I wouldn't have told him. He didn't need to know that my control over our situation was hanging by a thread, waiting to be broken at the slightest inconvenience. I'd tried more than a few times to contact Alistair for an emergency retrieval, but the signal was poor in the area, and the storm was not helping matters.

            Thunder crashed again when we started our trek, and rain battered our backs heavier than before, soaking our hair and clothes all the way through. I shuddered as the wet fabric stuck against my back, clinging to the sore skin. We needed shelter as fast as we could get it. Even without the rain, it was dangerous to be outside. The bolts of lightning overheard cracked through the sky like shattering glass, waiting for the right moment to cut through us.

            I signalled for Barnes to turn a corner and he followed obediently. For the extent of our walk, he had grown grouchy, scowl deepening as his hair matted to his forehead, droplets falling from the tips as he let out a sigh. I stifled a chuckle at the comical scene.

            "Do you not like the rain?" I mocked. As he looked up through his fringe, I clamped my mouth shut. I shouldn't have sparked a pointless conversation with a target.
"I don't like getting wet." He faked a smile. "It feels disgusting."
I nodded and watched my step. The rainwater was running through the dirt, pulling it into its current and carrying debris and clutter with it. I trudged forward, almost slipping in the mud. My hands were growing stiff with cold and began to ache. Barnes wasn't going anywhere. I reminded myself he surrendered, and shoved my hands into the pockets of my coat, keeping my fingers brushing against the hilt of the gun just in case.
"What about you?"
I stopped and turned, surprised. "What?" I furrowed my brows; not in disapproval but just... confusion.
"What do youthink?" He chewed on his cheek. "...Of the rain, I mean?"

            My head fell to the side in a tilt. Was this a trick question? A... joke?
I wasn't sure if I should have even answered. "I... don't mind it."
"That's... nice"

            I was conflicted in what was more awkward: the never-ending silence of before, or this feeble attempt at a conversation.

            "What were you hired on?" he asked after we started walking again.

I couldn't let my mind drift back to Scotty again. He was not my first choice for a conversation partner, but he was what I had. "Hired on?"
"For the agency. What skill set did you offer?"
I chewed on my bottom lip. I never had an interview for the agency. My entire employment was based on Alistair's word and my test scores in training. Since I was a child, Alistair had trained me himself, carefully crafting every skill to benefit the agency in some way. From my fighting style, to my personality, Alistair had constructed me to become the best agent I possibly could be.
"I'm an all-rounder," I answered. "I do spying, infiltration, assassinations and all that."
Barnes nodded but didn't say anything.

           I pulled a thread inside my pocket and released a breath. "What about you? What did you bring?"
I looked over my shoulder to see the subtle smirk. "Athleticism and a handsome face."

           I groaned. He wasn't entirely wrong. It was no secret that the agency held a preference for high-ranking field agents possessing charm and desirable looks for the strategic advantage it offered in more high-risk missions. Still, that couldn't have been it.
"A handsome face will only get you so far."
He pursed his lip and nodded. "So you agree that I have a handsome face?"
My stomach flipped. "No, I—"
"Don't stutter!" He grinned. "Let me bask in this."
"You can't get far in the agency with looks alone," I retorted. "As far as I know, you need considerable intelligence to get in." I looked him up and down. "I'm not seeing that."
"Who needs intelligence when you're as adorable as me?"
Stunned, I walked on. "You're insufferable."

            He snickered behind me as we hauled ourselves up a steep slope, using the branches to not fall back into the mud. The stench knocked me sick, and crawling up the hill had me grimacing with my face so close to the earth.

           "So," Barnes panted, "what do you like to do for fun?"
I frowned. "Why are you asking me this? I'm dragging you through the mud in the middle of nowhere while handcuffed. We're not friends."
"We could be."
My brows tugged together. "No." I shook my head. "I'd much rather see you behind bars."
He snorted. "You can do that whether we're friends or not, sweetheart—"
"Don't call me that."
"—Butthis might be more pleasant if we can at least be civil."

            I scowled and trudged forward. Derek Barnes was a manipulator and a liar. I couldn't trust a word that came out of his mouth. If I allowed him to be 'civil,' I could let my guard down. To build up those walls, I reminded myself of Scotty, and the anger came back.

            Barnes stopped walking at the peak of another slope.
"I'd also like to remind you that you were the one who started this conversation."
I snuffed. "I only asked if you didn't like the rain because you were sulking like a child."
"You still started the conversation."
"I didn't intend for you to continue it and mention—"
"My stunning good looks?"
"Yes!"
"Was that a compliment?"
"No!" I almost shrieked, wincing at the headache forming at the back of my skull.
"I think it was."
"Well, it wasn't," I snarled.

            I turned on my heel to walk away, only to lose my footing and skid down the muddy slope.

            A pair of interlocked arms threw over my head and gripped my waist.

            My breath caught in my throat and I tensed.

            Barnes's cuffed hands held onto my waist, being the only thing keeping me from choking on the puddle of liquid dirt a few feet below us. Bumps ran up and down my arms as his hold tightened, backing up the slope to help me regain my balance. I dug my heels into the mud and I was secure on my own two feet once more.

            Barnes flashed me his signature grin as he turned me around to face him, robbing all potential gratitude.
"I knew you'd fall for me sooner or later."

            I scoffed and rolled my eyes, grabbing him by the handcuffs to lift his arms in the air so I could escape and catch my breath. I appreciated the act whether it was out of kindness or humiliation on my part, but I abhorred the tightening feeling in my gut it had created.

            As my cheeks turned warm, I reminded myself of what he was responsible for and they turned brisk again.

            We pushed on in further silence, and I found myself begging whatever omnipotent force willing to listen to make the journey back to London as short as possible.

            I had a sinking feeling that would not be the case.