After receiving a nice review from an anonymous reviewer by the name Keeziles, I decided to take her advice in changing the original script story of Watch Me Burn to this. My plot bunnies immediately started hopping about on this idea and already started their evil plotting. Thanks again, Keeziles. I hope this fits to your (and others) liking compared to what it original was.
Disclaimer: Naughty Dogs owns Uncharted: Drake's Fortune/Among Thieves. That also means they own the characters that made an appearance in said games. The title came from the song by The Devil Wears Prada. All I own is my OC, Catherine 'Cat' Henderson, and any other OCs that are simply making small cameo appearances. Any similarities of physical descriptions or names to any real person, may it be living or dead, is purely coincidental. Thank you.
Note: This is my first story that's being in a First Person's Point of View. After all, Keeziles had given my plot bunnies the idea and they could only comply. I prefer third person, so I'm iffy about how this came out.
"Leaving already, Cat?"
I snatched my Michael Kors double-breasted trench coat from the back of my chair, slinging it over my arm and turning the monitor off on my computer. Across from my desk I didn't need to look up and see the disappointed glint in Jack's eyes as he knew the answer to his question. He seemed determined to stop me; he stood from his seat and placed his hands on my arms, staring down at me since he was about eight inches taller than me. Curse my shortness!
"Come on, Cat, don't be such a party pooper." He tried with a pout.
"Jack, I'm tired. I haven't been home for those past four days and I really need the sleep." I tried to pull away from his grip, but he held me in place knowing it was simply an excuse to not have to hang around a certain someone. In truth, I got along with everyone at the station, but that woman: Madison Leroy. Since the day I had started on the force, she had it in for me. "Look, maybe next time I'll join you all next time, but right now: I'm going home."
Breaking from his hold, I quickly exited the office with Jack on my heels and pressed the button to summon the elevator. Throughout the five minute wait, I could still hear him babbling about changing my mind and whatnot. But I wasn't listening, I knew no matter how much he begged and pleaded for me to reconsider in joining them. And there was no way I would be changing my mind unless Madison Leroy wouldn't be there, it was apparent to everyone that she and I both held a loathing for each other. Even Davis, the head boss, knew he couldn't team the two of us up during a case.
"Are you sure you won't change your mind?" He asked as he put his hands together and head tilting to his side, lips quivering in a pathetic pout. I stood in the middle of the elevator, hand placed under my chin, and this seemed to give him hope.
"No." His face fell and I pushed the button to head down, watching as the doors slide close.
I put my coat on and started rummaging through my purse to find my keys, briskly exiting the elevator as it let me off in the parking garage. My car was parked at the end, a brand new black Audi R8 that I had purchased a week ago. It was one of my dream cars since it came out, the style catching my eye.
"Going home to eat a bucket of ice cream as you watch TV, Henderson?"
"Leroy." I didn't even bat an eye as she came around the corner of a Honda CR-V with a knowing face. Ugh, was what went through my mind as she decided to block my path, what is this, junior high school all over again?
"You know, I was going back through old cold case files." She told me with a wave of her hands, gazing off in thoughtfulness. During these times I felt the urge to ram my fist into her face. Never had someone gotten on my nerves like she did… actually, that was an understatement. There was another who got under my skin just as easily. "And I came across a few photos printed from the security camera and I could swear the robbery at the Metropolitan Museum of Art… screenshots of the masked fugitives, one of them looks about the same height as you even in body structure."
I rolled my eyes though I felt my heart starting to pound harder against my chest. "Honestly, Leroy, is that all? You know, there are other people who are five feet and two inches tall. And how can you even tell how tall this fugitive is?" I crossed my arms over my chest and watched as she narrowed her eyes at me.
"I'm just saying… it's pretty suspicious, is all." She snidely remarked as she put a hand on her hip.
"You sure it's not you and you're simply covering your own a-s?"
Madison's eye twitched and I knew I hit a nerve. Good, an eye for an eye. I nodded my head back to the elevator, walking around her as I told her she may want to hurry up so Jack, Davis, and the others wouldn't begin worrying about her sudden disappearance. My tolerance for her was starting to already thin, the sting ready to break. My hands were clenched tightly, the keys in my right hand making an imprint into my palm.
Behind me I heard her huff angrily before storming away, already picturing her sprucing herself up and ready to flirt away with Jack; that was half the reason he wanted her to stay whenever they went out for a drink. Madison would constantly be flirting with him, batting her eyelashes at him and her tone hushing into a whisper. Poor guy, I felt extremely sorry for him. Even he was totally oblivious to her antics.
I unlocked my car, tossing my purse in before climbing into the driver's seat and slamming my door shut. My wits were becoming frazzled by Madison's approach about the cold case, happening over three years ago. I shut my eyes and took in a breath, knowing it would do the trick to calm me.
"What a bloody pikey she is."
"Holy!" I shouted and swirled towards my right, pressing my back against the door and reaching behind me to grab my Glock 19 only to freeze as he pointed a Desert-5 at me, his choice of weapon. He gave a 'tsk, tsk' as he shook his head at me, clearly disappointed when he had no reason to be. I grounded my teeth together in agitation that he was here. "You have one second to get out of my car—"
"You're still not mad at me, are you?"
I think my face told him all because he sighed. "Cat, it's not as if I meant to. I got this great offer and I couldn't turn it down. The bloke was offering thousands and it would be wrong of me to refuses him. I meant to call—"
"Get out."
"Now, don't be like that."
"Get out of the car, now."
"Do you really think I'll listen to you when I'm the one holding the gun?" He asked and waved said item about before relocking it on me. Unfortunately, he had a point. There wasn't much I could do except listen to him at the moment, no matter how much I didn't want to. I had managed to cover up my tracks and now it would be as if for not.
"Now," I blinked as he buckled himself in with one hand and gave me one of his sweet grins, "why don't we head back to your place to get reacquainted?"
Why, the slimy son-of-a—, I started thinking as he patiently waited for me to start the engine and drive to my house. Then again maybe I would be able to gain the upper hand, it was risky, but worth the try. There wasn't much I could do in the car being held at gunpoint, now was there?
The purr of the motor erupted softly and I put the gear into reverse, pulling out of my parking space and started to head up towards the surface. I could see the captain, Jack, and the others piling out of the elevator and hurriedly made my turn. If Flynn, that's right 'the' Harry Flynn was sitting in my car and looking bemused, was seen with me, it would look highly suspicious. Because then they would take it as if I had a boyfriend, which he was not, or the fact that if he was ever caught pulling off one of his heists and discovered he had partaken in the robbery of a few arts from the Metropolitan Museum, I would be in so much sh-t.
Yeah, that's right. Flynn had pulled the job off, with me being a loyal sidekick.
I scowled. He was truly a fine piece of work, knowing how to smooth talk any girl to do whatever he pleased. That's what he did with me. I had been off in college during the time, at a small café my friends and I had found. And that's where he came in with his charms and sweet talk. If only I had a boyfriend at the time, then I wouldn't have gotten involved with him. And it wasn't my fault, just partly mine. Samantha, Sam for short, had so desperately wanted me to be in a relationship to partake in a double-date with her and Robby. She also liked him for how sincere he was.
Ha! What a joke that was.
Why was I so naïve back then? If someone had invented a time machine I would pay millions simply to go back into time and tell my naïve self not to listen to the jerk. But until whoever that someone was that would make the fated machine, I wouldn't be so lucky.
No matter how much I hated Madison, I started to wish I had gone off to the bar to celebrate.
Because then I wouldn't be stuck in my car, with Flynn being my passenger, and driving home.
Could today possibly get any worse? I wondered as I started forward when the light turned green. Beside me, Flynn was fiddling with my radio, the damn a-s, and flickering through stations in search of finding one suited fine with him. I gripped the steering wheel tightly until my knuckles turned white.
I was getting the faint urge to make the car crash.
"Don't even think about it." It was almost as if he could read people's minds.
"Yeah, yeah…" I grumbled. He sighed and I didn't bother looking at him. In a few minutes once we got to my house, I was about to discover that yes, it could get worse, a whole lot worse than what I could possibly hope for.
"This sure is a nice place you managed to get yourself." Flynn commented as he ventured in after me. I tossed my purse on the table counter and started planning how I could turn the tables. I knew he had a weak spot for beer and wished I had some stored in my fridge. Even though I was naïve for following him, I wasn't that naïve enough to get drunk. And smoke, I couldn't stand either of the two.
I pulled out a SoBe Pina Colada from the fridge. By the time I had turned around with the cap unscrewed, Flynn had already seated himself on one of the barstools placed on the other side of the kitchen counter, staring at me with the Desert-5 lazily aimed at me. "Would you put that away?"
He shook his head at me. "No can do, love. Don't want you trying to pull a fast one."
Damn, I quickly took a few sips from my drink to keep the disappointment clearly showing on my face. An eyebrow rose as I nearly drowned more than half of its liquid and greedily taking in the refreshment. Everything was silent with the exception of my neighbor's dogs barking outside. As soon as I got out of this predicament, I was buying a dog and training it to attack a certain British a-swhole.
"Where's the hospitality?"
"Being hospitable is to guests, not to a-ses."
"Come on, Cat. Give me a break. If it were the other way around, I wouldn't be holding a grudge against you leaving without a trace for a year."
"It's been three."
Flynn blinked and muttered, "That long?"
"…" I decided to take a few more sips of my drink. But what I really wanted to do was punch him square in the jaw. My attention snapped back to him as he dismissed it, saying he still wouldn't hold a grudge against me for now matter how long I went missing. "Then again, if that were true, I wouldn't have gotten into your, as you people call it, 'business'."
Speaking of which…
"Why are you here? And don't even say it's to get 'reacquainted' because we both know that isn't it."
It was truly tempting to throw the near empty SoBe bottle at him. Why? Because he stared at me, lips in a small form of an 'O' and eyes staring at me like a deer caught in the headlights. I don't know how long we stayed like that until he finally sighed and sat up on the stool, acting professional.
Ha, another good joke.
"And be truthful." I thought to myself, For once in your life.
"Right," He grumbled and gave me another trademark grin of his, "I've got this client—"
A shiver ran up my spine and I knew I wasn't about to like where this was going.
"—who is willingly parting from his money, so long as I find what he's looking for." A sly glint entered his eyes as he leaned forward and smirked at me. I definitely didn't like how, and where, this was going. I didn't like it one bit. "Only, I've encountered a small problem."
I finished the rest of my SoBe and placed it in the sink. I would wash it out later after Flynn left.
"And if I remember correctly," I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, "one of your majors was ancient history, wasn't it?"
"That was long ago." I stated, reminding him that that was a fact. It had been long ago. And because of him, I never was able to finish my two majors I had wanted to be in. Both were crushed by him when he pulled him into his heists operatives. He had known I wasn't allowed to miss so many classes, but with his sweet talk he managed into bending me into his will and go along anyway.
My parents are still angry about me not finishing. Mom didn't take it quite as hard, I suppose, seeing as she still talked with me. But dad was a whole different story; he acted as if I didn't even exist. Including the holidays when the family would gather, he'd never acknowledge my presence.
But overall I think he was disappointed with the fact that it was because of some guy I had listened to.
And I was, still am, too. Disappointed in myself for letting some smooth talker jacka-s to have easily wrapped me around his finger and help assist him in his thefts.
"Tell me, Cat," I jumped when his voice was spoke gently into my ear, "how well can you read thirteenth century Latin?"
I tried to spin my body around in an attempt to shove him back, but his hands had slide up my arms and kept me in check. My heart had gone into overdrive once again and I jerked a little when he wrapped his arms around me. Oddly enough I liked it, liked the way he held me in his arms as if it were in those apparent 'good old days'. And I hated it.
"Let go."
"Cat, why do you have to be so defensive?" He murmured. "Look, I know I can be a-s—"
"That's the understatement for the year."
"—but I'm telling you, if I had a chance to write you a note or tell you I had to leave ASAP, I would have done so. And," His voice seemed to crack yet I dismissed it as part of my imagination; Harry Flynn did not get choked up with words, "I'm sorry, Cat, I'm completely and utterly sorry."
Though part of me wanted to believe he was sorry, another part didn't. He did seem sincere about it, but how could I know that it was sincere? He could easily make it seem as if he was when it could simply be that façade he placed on in attempted to get someone to do whatever he wanted. How could I be positive he meant it? I couldn't, that's what. He wanted me to read whatever's in Latin, thirteenth century Latin. All I knew was that he could be saying things he didn't mean and hope I'd help him.
"If I don't know what this thirteenth century Latin says," I paused and he gave me a small squeeze, "you get out of my house and never show up again."
I think he figured I would easily fall for his sincerity as he became still, tense.
"… fine," He grumbled and released me, allowing me to turn around and try to put as much space between us I could do, which wasn't that much. I watched as he pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to me.
Ignoring him as he turned towards the fridge to see if there was anything he could find for himself, I started out to the kitchen unfolding the paper as I went. When I opened fully I blinked. It was a journal entry copied onto a sheet of paper. And it wasn't just any old journal entry. It was Marco Polo's journal entry. Or one of them, that is.
"Where did you—? How did you—?" I sat down on the barstool beside the one he had taken a few minutes ago, staring at him with wide eyes. And it wasn't because he was giving a sour look at the SoBe Orange Cream either.
"'Borrowed' it," Flynn answered as he recapped the bottle and put it back in the fridge. Mental note: throw Orange Cream in trash. I thought to myself as he found a different beverage to try, "why?"
"Flynn, this is Marco Polo's journal. One of his many entries," I stared back at the copy and tried my best to read it. It had been so long ago since I took ancient history and we had studied ancient texts that I wasn't certain if I could read it or not. It didn't even occur to me that I should give up now and not even bother.
"In Trebizond… we were set upon by… thieves." Oh boy was I really rusty. "Father, Maffeo, and I—"
"Right, so you can read it!" He suddenly exclaimed with pure delight.
"With difficulty: yes." I answered not paying attention to what he was doing now. I was still trying to figure out the sentence…
… until it was snatched out from my hands.
"Hey—!"
"Oh," He gave me a sheepish grin, "don't try bothering to read the rest. I already know what it says."
I glared at him. "So why have—?"
"Because, there are others I'm having difficulty in deciphering." He smiled as he leaned across from me, holding a bottle of soda in his hands. But I noticed how his tone took a ninety degree turn. It became… suggestive. Almost as if—
"No."
"Cat, you don't even know—"
"Actually, I do."
"You know I have trouble reading that ancient gibberish—"
"Oh, really because if you could decipher that, I'm certain in due time you can decipher the others."
"I could barely make out the first sentence."
"But you made it out nonetheless."
"A… friend…" I noticed something flick over his face at the mention of this 'friend' of his "helped me with that."
"Then have your friend—"
"I can't."
"And why can't you?" I asked while I tapped my fingers in wait to hear what kind of excuse he would give.
"He's," Flynn started, "in jail."
I blinked. "Do I even want to know why he's in jail?" I lifted a hand to stop him from telling me the reason, knowing I didn't care to know what the reason was, is. Instead I asked why he couldn't bail the friend out. A frown formed on my lips when he gave a nervous chuckle. I swear, if he was going to say it was out of the price range I would easily comeback with that certain client who was willingly parting from his money and therefore he would be able to—
"He's in a Turkish prison."
"Oh," I gave after a while and for some odd reason gave a nod, "I see."
"Yeah, which is why I need your help, Cat."
"First, if your friend is in a Turkish prison that means traveling to part of the Eurasia—"
"Borneo actually," Flynn cleared his throat, "that's where we're heading off to…"
"Where you're looking for some treasure—"
"Turns out it's the Lost Fleet we're searching for…"
"And you want me to go with you?"
"Yes!"
"No."
Flynn's face fell and he came around, holding me in place, by the shoulders, as he sat on the other barstool. His features had become grim from having me decline. "And why the bloody h—l not?"
He couldn't be serious. It was like college days all over again. Only this time I wasn't naïve.
"I have a job." I reminded him. "I'm a detective. I can't call up my captain and say, 'I won't be coming in for a few weeks—"
"Actually, it may take a two months, but you never know…"
"—because I'm off helping a jerk, from my past, find the Lost Fleet of Marco Polo'. Yes, Flynn, I can see it now. I would be given that time of leave because it's so much more important than putting away murderers and kidnappers, robbers and—"
"Just say your grandmother had a stroke and that you're the designated person to be her caretaker." He shrugged and removed his hands, placing one on his knee and the other resting on the surface of the counter. I opened my mouth to argue yet he shook his head showing he wasn't finished. "And after a few weeks, maybe two months, she died. And you're completely heartbroken and the funeral is taking quite awhile because she always wanted to be buried somewhere in Denmark or something."
If I didn't know him quite well I would have guessed it was a joke. "You can't honestly believe anyone would fall for that. Besides, even if I did use that excuse, I'm certain someone would look into it." And that someone was Leroy. Besides after her declare of what she believed, it would only prove to her that she was right.
No way was I about to let that happen.
"Tell you what; I'll give you a third of what I'm being paid for. Huh?" A grin slid on his face.
"No."
"How about a fourth of what I'm getting?"
Didn't people usually up the bribe, not down? "No."
"A fifth of what I'm getting?"
OK that answered my question: Flynn is mentally challenged. "No, I am not going to up and leave just to travel to Borneo and help decipher more journal entries about where Marco Polo's fleet ended up. And that is final, now get out of my house and leave me alone. Never come back. I mean it."
I stood and started towards the hall, hoping to lock myself in my bedroom until his presence.
"How about if you do this, I'll make a personal heist in snatching that case that pikey is certain you're involved in."
Those words made me stop dead in my tracks. Not only had he broken into my car and bringing his sorry existence back into my life, but he had eavesdropped on the exchange happening between Leroy and I? Knew that Leroy, maybe, could solve the case and tie me with it? My body swirled back around, few strands of my hair lashing out from the bun I had put it in.
"You know perfectly well that she won't be able to solve that case." I growled trying to seem convincing. But a small part of me started to worry. Leroy was determined to prove herself right and, true she couldn't hold a photo of a masked fugitive connecting it with me, there was a small chance there was something else that could help give her that push to prove she was right.
"One never can be too careful." He tapped his temple and grinned. "Cat, trust me, it'll be worth it."
"Forget it, Flynn."
"If you're worried you'll be attacked by a tiger or something, relax. I'll be there with my trust Desert-5 and I'll keep you safe from danger." The grin twisted into a coy smirk. Ugh, I can't believe I was even having this conversation with him. "Plus there'll be over a hundred armed men posted about—"
"Whoa, whoa, time out. What do you mean armed men? Isn't that a bit over the top going into a dense jungle? I mean, it's almost as if you're expecting to run into an army out there."
"Like I said, my client is willing to part from his money simply to have the best." Flynn answered with a casual shrug and continued to watch me. I felt a sass retort wanting to fly out of my mouth, but thought better. If this guy wanted the best, why hire Flynn? I could hear echo in my head. "He'll even pay you, I wager."
I put my hands on my hips and shook my head. "This client of yours sounds like a wacko."
Flynn grinned. "I've been told that."
"Look, Flynn, I'm flattered," No I wasn't, "but I can't accept it. I've got work here and a life."
"Are you worried what'll happen being surrounded by thousands of men and being the only woman there?"
"No." Holy crap, how many times has that word come out of my mouth now? I felt as if I was repeating myself over and over again. Why couldn't he just leave?
"Because there'll be another woman there. I think you and her will get along."
"Did you not hear me, I said—oh, never mind!" I threw my hands up in the air and started down the hall towards my bedroom, quickly. However I hadn't expected my wrist to get caught and my body pulled backwards to land against another's. "Flynn!"
"I promise it'll go fine." He whispered and his lips lingered on my neck; I shivered. "You'll still have your job when you get back, as well as five hundred pockets full of cash. And I promise that I'll pull that heist off to take that folder from that pikey woman and, after this job's over with, I'll stay clear of your way. You won't ever hear from me again."
My mind found it hard to concentrate as he continued to press his lips against my skin in a soothing manner.
"You promise?" I mumbled softly that I believed he wouldn't be able to catch it. But he did.
"I promise."
Little did I know that it wouldn't be quite as what I had figured it to be.
I think I'll keep this as a oneshot for now unless I'm told otherwise. I mean, it could go either way, couldn't it?
Again, thank you Keeziles for giving me the advice on taking a different approach on the story. And I hope I did this First Person POV correctly (though I still prefer Third Person, haha).
Review?
(For additional information about Catherine 'Cat' Henderson, I decided to have her be twenty-five years old (don't know how old Harry Flynn is, but I'm guessing about twenty-eight). She's also five feet and two inches (where as Harry Flynn is six feet and five inches, I checked the Uncharted wiki and am going with how tall his motion captured/voice actor is). So when she and Flynn had first met, it was when she was nineteen. Therefore when he left without telling her to go off on another hunt of his, she was twenty-two. So yeah... just to give you a better sense.)