Chapter 1: "Belle Versus the Intersect"

Belle Delacour was completely average. She was of average height, with an average hair colour, and she lived in an average part of town and had an average job at the bookstore on the corner of Third and Park. Nothing exciting ever happened to her. Every day, like clockwork, she got her tea from the shop across the street, did the morning inventory, and then sat down at the front desk to check her email.

On May 3rd, 2017, her life got far more interesting – and all because of one unfortunate, improperly sent email.

The second she opened her account, she noticed it flagged at the top, with a large bold heading:

URGENT. OPEN IMMEDIATELY.

Now, normally Belle was far more cautious with what she did and did not open. As was said before: nothing exciting ever happened in her life, partially because she was so cautious. But this was her work email address, set up through a private server, and only a select few people had it. For all she knew, it could have been an email from up top about a thief to be on the look-out for who was scamming copies of John Green books to sell online at half-price. So, being the diligent employee that she was, Belle opened it.

Seconds later, she was in an immobile trance. Images and words and symbols of all sizes, shapes, languages and colours were flying before her eyes at the speed of light, like in some sort of hypnosis driven horror movie, and she couldn't move. She couldn't even blink. Information was being dumped into her brain at an impossible speed, and in less than a minute it was over. So, unfortunately, appeared to be her laptop's life; once the images ceased, everything on the screen went dark. Then, a few seconds later, a single flashing message appeared on the blank screen:

ACTIVATION COMPLETE.

Once her trance was broken, Belle gasped in a sharp breath of air and nearly fell backward out of her chair, gripping the armrests as she quivered. What had just happened? Had she had some sort of a seizure? That was the only logical explanation that she could come up with. The sudden, unexpected, flashing images had to have triggered some sort of epileptic fit. But what the hell was that? And what had it done to her poor computer?

"Oh, no…" she whimpered, pressing repeatedly down on the power button with her trembling fingers in an attempt to get it to reboot, but it didn't work. The screen remained stuck on ACTIVATION COMPLETE. Then, after a few more tries at restarting it, the screen went dead and the keyboard sparked. Gasping with fright, Belle lurched back, positively screaming when her laptop spontaneously caught on fire. What demented sort of computer virus did that?

"Oh, no, no, no!" she pleaded, making a mad dash to the back for the fire extinguisher and putting it out as quickly as possible, but it was too late. Her hard-drive was completely melted. Kaput. Destroyed.

Taking her entire 500-page manuscript with it.

Agent 004 was in the middle of wiping blood from the knife in his hand with a silk handkerchief when the burner phone in his jacket pocket rang. Rolling his blue eyes at the dreadfulness of the timing, he answered it.

"I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment," he stated plainly, his gaze locked on the man tied to a chair a few feet away, bloodied and groaning pitifully. He'd been assigned to crack down on a European drug cartel and get their prime stash-house locations out of one of the many mob bosses in Paris – by any means necessary. That was his mantra. Agent 004 was the man that the agency called whenever they needed someone unafraid to use lethal force or… questionable methods. They didn't all call him 'the Beast' for nothing.

"We have a situation in Charlbury," the female voice on the other end stated and Agent 004 made an indignant noise.

"Charlbury? What in god's name could be going on there? And did I not mention that I'm busy?"

"This is a very serious matter, 004," the voice responded, leaving no time for the agent to object again, "Project 97 has been compromised."

"What?" he asked, his eyes widening, turning his back on his captive for the moment. "You can't be serious! That program holds-"

"Every agency secret, password, codename, launch code, and agent location," the woman responded and Agent 004 gritted his teeth.

"It's also got how-to guides for every known combat style and lethal weapon ever recorded. In the wrong hands, the person who possesses Project 97 could be a potentially undefeatable threat to not just national security, but the safety of the world as we know it!"

"We're aware of that, 004," the woman quipped impatiently, causing the agent to bite his tongue despite his building anger. "It appears that the email containing the program was intercepted somehow and it fell onto a private server. We managed to track down who received it, but not before it was opened. The Intersect has been activated, 004, and we need it terminated."

Gritting his teeth, Agent 004 clenched his fingers around the base of the knife in his hand. Of course he would be assigned to take out the most dangerous threat ever known to mankind.

"Send me the description and a location. The threat will be dealt with before sundown tomorrow."

"No, Agent 004, the threat will be dealt with immediately, before she destroys us all. I don't care what it is that you're doing right now; drop everything and get on a plane."

"I can't just drop-" he attempted to interject, but the line went dead. Cursing with irritation, he shoved the burner back in his pocket and returned to the man tied to the chair. Shooting him a cold look, 004 walked around behind the chair. Gripping his sweat-dampened hair, he pulled his head back.

"I'm afraid it appears that I have to cut our conversation short. Hopefully the rest of tes amis will be more useful. But I can't have you tipping them off."

With that, Agent 004 slit the man's throat and left him in the abandoned warehouse to bleed out, cleaning his knife once again with the handkerchief as he made his way out to his car, no trace of emotion on his countenance.

They didn't call him 'the Beast' for nothing.

It was all terribly strange. After her seemingly epileptic experience at work that morning, Belle had gone to the hospital to have herself checked out but the doctor at the emergency room found her to be in perfect health. There were no visible signs that she'd had a seizure. Just the same, he had agreed to do MRI testing to ensure there was nothing wrong internally.

When Belle left the hospital that night, she felt just as normal as ever. A part of her had begun to wonder if she'd somehow dreamed the whole thing – but the fried remnants of her laptop in the backseat of her car told a different story.

That was her next stop after the hospital; the computer repair shop on Main Street. But, when she reached into the backseat to take it in with her, Belle realized with a jolt that her laptop, a very noticeable chunk of melted metal and plastic, was… gone.

Frantically, she got out of her car and began checking it over in the dim glow of the streetlamps for any signs that it had been broken into, but there was nothing. Not even a scratch on the yellow paint. It was as immaculate as ever.

So where the hell was her laptop?

After taking a quick flight from Paris to Birmingham, Agent 004 had acquired a car and headed straight for the small town of Charlbury. He'd been informed by Director Thompson, via an encrypted text message, that he would find the target there; she was a twenty-seven-year-old female, 5'4", brown hair with brown eyes, and went by the name of "Belle". When Adam reached Charlbury, he had expected to find some sort of master hacker or someone working for a rival agency, out to steal their most prized program – one that could change the fate of humanity as they knew it.

Instead, he ended up following a skittish young woman to the hospital, of all places, where he discovered that she was having herself checked for epilepsy. This young woman, who had just had the most powerful computer program in history uploaded into her brain, thought it had been a seizure. He could only imagine what her reaction had to have been when her computer self-destructed after receiving the Intersect.

That was another aspect of the mission that he was expected to carry out; retrieve the computer that had transferred the program, and ensure that the evidence of the Intersect never fell into anyone else's hands. So, he had expertly picked the lock to her car with a device capable of short-circuiting the alarm system, snatched the laptop from her backseat, and made it back to his own car to wait her out - all while she was getting some sort of MRI scan done.

For whatever reason, Agent 004 actually… pitied this girl. He had absolutely no idea how she ended up having the Intersect emailed to her, but all signs pointed toward it being a freak accident. Something that she had never asked for. A burden – potentially a lethal one – that had been thrust upon her by some unknown perpetrator.

He followed her from the hospital to her next destination, only to feel even worse when he parked down the street and saw her stop in front of a computer repair shop. When she got out of her car - evidently having noticed her missing laptop and fearing that she'd been robbed - and proceeded to have a meltdown, he cursed softly under his breath and got out of his car, leaving any and all potential weapons behind.

He wasn't going to kill her. There was no possible way that this girl was really a threat to anyone – she certainly wouldn't be one on purpose. The only person in danger in this scenario was her. If anyone were to find out that she had inadvertently become the Intersect – primarily whoever had hacked in and attempted to steal the email in the first place – she would undoubtedly be kidnapped and forced to do dreadful things. That, or other people would try to kill her. Most less skilled than he, which would mean a slow, painful death.

Making his way down the street in her direction, quickly darting across to be on her side, Agent 004 stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets as he approached her. He could hear her crying, and it only made him feel even worse.

People may call him 'the Beast', but he only directed that side of himself toward those who truly deserved it. This girl? Belle? She didn't deserve it.

"Miss?" he asked tentatively, playing himself off as merely a concerned bystander. It was Main Street, after all; well lit and with plenty of people in the surrounding buildings. He doubted his appearance would startle her all that much. "Are you quite alright?"

Still, she jumped at his sudden appearance – he was all too good at approaching quietly. When she turned quickly to face him, tears smattered across her cheeks, he offered her a small, apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I was just down the street and I noticed that you were crying," he explained, gesturing vaguely behind them before returning his hands to his pockets.

"Oh," she sniffled, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater, hiccupping quietly as she blushed. Even in the dim light from the streetlamps, he could tell that she was embarrassed. "Yes, yes, I'm fine, I've just… had a very rubbish day. My computer got fried this morning by some sort of email virus, and I think I might have epilepsy, and now it looks like someone's broken into my car but I don't know how, and I…!"

Her bottom lip quivering, Belle whimpered softly and quickly looked away. She normally wasn't one to cry, but today had just been all too much. The worst part wasn't even that she may be epileptic; she was sure that sort of thing could be managed. No, the worst part was her computer. She'd been working on a book manuscript for over a year and a half now, and when her hard-drive got fried she'd been certain that it was all lost forever. She'd allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, someone at the computer repair shop might be able to retrieve the data from what was left of her laptop, but now it was stolen. All of that hard work, gone. Down the drain. For naught. Choking on a sob, she quickly covered her mouth and turned her back fully on the stranger who had approached her.

Agent 004 felt the twisting in his gut worsen.

"Would you like me to call someone for you?" he asked her, his fingers brushing over the burner phone in his pocket. "If you've been having epileptic fits, you probably shouldn't be driving, should you?"

"Oh, God!" she gasped with horror, turning to face him as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "I didn't even think of that… What if I'd…? I could have killed somebody!"

If only she knew just how capable the Intersect residing in her head actually made her of killing somebody, and not by accident. Shaking his head, Agent 004 frowned slightly, trying his best to be reassuring.

"You haven't hurt anyone, Miss. Everything's alright. You needn't cry," he said comfortingly, but she shook her head and leaned against her car, hugging her sweater tightly around herself.

"Everything is as far from 'alright' as it could possibly be," she whispered and he swallowed roughly. He wasn't used to dealing with situations like this. Dangerous thugs and screaming vigilantes? Those he could deal with. But comforting a crying young woman who he had been sent to kill? That was a very foreign situation, indeed.

"Can I call someone for you?" he repeated, figuring that was the least he could do, and she sniffled after a moment, shaking her head.

"No. No, I'll be alright. I've got my phone; I can do it…"

"You're sure?" he prompted and she nodded, drying her eyes once more. Pulling open her car door, she took a wavering breath and sat down, looking up at him afterward.

"Thank you. It was… It was kind of you to stop. Most people wouldn't," she stated, fastening her seatbelt, and he nodded, offering her a small smile before she shut her car door. Making sure she really did call someone, rather than trying to leave on her own, Agent 004 only made his way back to his own car once he saw her pick up her phone.

Once he was seated in his own car again, he did the same.

Director Thompson answered before the first ring even finished.

"Is it done?" she asked and Agent 004 pursed his lips, frowning deeply as he kept his gaze locked on Belle's car.

"No, it is not done," he snapped, viciously gripping his steering wheel. "You failed to mention that the target isn't a hacker, or a mobster's moll, or a vigilante – she's an innocent girl who thinks that she has epilepsy!"

"That's likely just a cover story," Director Thompson responded curtly, and he could hear the frown in her voice. "Did you engage with the target, 004? That wasn't authorized."

"I wasn't going to engage," he snapped in return, keeping a close eye on Belle's car to ensure she didn't drive off. Epileptic or not, she still had the Intersect inside of her head and it was an unpredictable and entirely untested piece of software. That email had been intended for a highly trained agent on an op in Tanzania, not a twenty-seven-year-old girl.

"But then I followed her to a hospital, and I overheard what she was saying to the nurse at the front desk. She had them give her MRI tests. She doesn't realize what's happened to her, Director. I'm not going to kill an innocent girl. She's done nothing to deserve to die."

"She's a threat, Agent."

"She's innocent!" he responded with venom in his tone, slamming his hand down on the dashboard. "I don't kill innocent people! I don't give a damn what you all call me – I am not a beast."

Director Thompson fell quiet for a long time on the line after that. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, she asked, "What do you propose we do?"

"Surveillance. Not termination," he stated, still watching Belle's car. "Set me up with an alias somewhere in town. I'll keep an eye on her and ensure she doesn't fall into the wrong hands. Until we can figure out a way to get the Intersect out of her, she needs to be protected."

"And how do you plan to do that, might I ask?"

Pursing his lips, Adam watched as a car rolled up next to Belle's, his eyes following her as she got out of her own and into the passenger's side of the new arrival. Once that car had driven past his and disappeared down the street, he answered, "By any means necessary."

"You had an epileptic fit and you didn't call me right away?"

In the driver's seat, Plumette Lavigne was bristling. Her very best friend in the entire world had almost died, watched her laptop catch on fire, and then tried to drive herself home! She was completely insane!

"I don't know for sure that it's epilepsy," Belle murmured, her cheeks bright red with shame, and Plumette shook her head, gripping the steering wheel tightly as she drove them both back to their shared courtyard apartment just off of King's Street.

"It doesn't matter if you don't know for sure! You saw a bunch of flashing images and lost consciousness! What if it had happened again while you were driving? You could have died, Belle! Died!"

"I know! Alright? I know," Belle sighed, massaging her temples. She still had a dreadful headache and she wanted nothing more than to go to bed. "I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking, I suppose. I'm sorry."

Her expression softening, Plumette sighed. She couldn't really be angry with Belle; she was fiercely independent. She would probably have driven herself to the hospital even if she'd just gotten her own arm lobbed off.

"Just call me next time, alright? Right away. That's what friends are for," Plumette told her in a gentler tone as she pulled into the lot outside of the courtyard and Belle nodded. She supposed that was the least that she could do.

"I will. But let's hope there isn't a next time," she prompted, taking a deep breath before stepping out of the car and making her way to their front door, unlocking it and letting herself in. She didn't care that she hadn't eaten since this morning; food was the last thing on her mind. She needed pain medication and sleep. She'd worry about everything else in the morning.

Plumette, however, wasn't about to stop worrying. She was very, very worried.

Thus, Belle shouldn't have been surprised when, upon waking up the next morning, she found her roommate's boyfriend in the kitchen making pancakes. She wanted to tell herself that it was just because Plumette had decided to have a late-night rendezvous, but Belle wasn't that dense; obviously Plumette had called him before she left this morning to make sure that Belle got out of bed and arrived at work today alive. Until the MRI results came back, she had a sneaking suspicion that Lou would be staying with them for a while.

"Let me guess; you're driving me to work today?" she questioned, stealing one of the warm pancakes that he'd turned onto a plate and tearing off a piece, popping it into her mouth. Lou glanced over at her, his usual charming smile in place, and remarked, "Considering you do not currently have access to a car, it only seems like the polite thing to do."

Pausing at his words, Belle blinked. Somehow, she'd managed to completely forget that her car was still parked in front of the computer repair shop. Knowing her luck, it had probably gotten towed.

"Oh, bloody hell!" she whimpered, pinching the bridge of her nose and walking over to sit at the kitchen table, and Lou shot her a pitying glance.

"Do not worry, chérie; I'm sure that your car is fine. Plumette and I will get it all sorted out."

Groaning, Belle resisted the urge to lash out at him. As much as she admired her best friend's Parisian boyfriend and his unflinchingly kind heart, it drove her crazy in moments like this. He was terribly optimistic.

"You're acting like I'm dying," she snapped, with a bit more of an edge to her tone than she had intended, deflating after a moment. "I'm sorry." Picking apart her pancake, she added, "I think I'm just tired. Yesterday was dreadful."

"So I have been told," Lou responded with sympathy, finishing the last pancake and turning off the stove before he walked over to take a seat next to her at the table. "When do you hear back from the doctor?"

"Sometime tomorrow, apparently," Belle told him, miserably finishing her pancake. She was still hung up on her lost manuscript; she barely even had room to be miserable over potential epilepsy – or a brain tumor. That thought had occurred to her last night as she lay in bed. Shuddering, Belle pushed herself to her feet, determined to stay busy. If she got to work early enough – and avoided checking any and all mobile devices – she just might be able to forget about this whole mess until she knew for sure whether she might actually be dying. Cringing, she quickly said, "Can you please drive me? Now? I just… I don't want to be late."

"Of course, chérie," he agreed, but Belle was certain that he saw right through her. Louis Mier was irritatingly perceptive. Belle was almost positive that that was the main reason that Plumette adored him so much; she never had to prod him to ask her if something was wrong. He just always knew, and he always knew how to make her feel better. Belle had given up on finding someone like that a long time ago.

This wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind when he'd told Director Thompson to set him up an alias. Agent 004 was now known to the world as 'Adam Walker'; a diehard bookworm and current employee at The Random Tea Room, which happened to be directly across the street from Belle's bookshop. It gave him the ability to keep an eye on her without her having any idea that she was being monitored. His living arrangements, however, were slightly less subtle.

It just so happened that there had been a vacancy in her courtyard apartment complex – whether it had genuinely been vacant or was the work of the agency, 'Adam' had no idea. But he was now living directly across the courtyard from Belle and her roommate, Plumette Lavigne, allowing him to keep an eye on her virtually 24/7. No one would hurt her. He would keep her safe until they had a way to get the Intersect out of her head.

As far as he knew, nothing had happened since she opened the email. After their exchange outside of the computer repair shop, she had gone home and went straight to bed. No signs of unusual activity. Perhaps the Intersect would remain latent in her head.

He could only hope.

Glancing up from behind the counter when the bell above the door tinkled, Adam paused in the midst of frothing milk, unsurprised to see that it was Belle herself who had walked in. Right on schedule. According to the cellphone records the agency had tapped into and provided him with, she stopped by the Tea Room at exactly 7:45 every morning, fifteen minutes before her eight-hour shift at The Corner Bookshop began. It coincided with his nine-hour shift here perfectly. Not that she needed to know that.

Yet, anyway.

"Welcome to The Random Tea Room," he greeted her as if they had never met before, flashing her a charming smile as she approached the counter. "What can I get for you this morning?"

"Oh." Belle blinked with surprise when she realized it wasn't the usual morning barista behind the counter, smiling sheepishly and hugging her purse to her side. "I was going to say 'my usual', but I suppose you don't know what that is, do you-" glancing down at his nametag, she asked, "-Adam?"

"I'm afraid not," he confirmed, leaning against the counter, his blue eyes soft and twinkling with playful mirth. That was the sort of person that Adam Walker was; gentle, playful, kind-hearted. Soft. Easy to befriend. "But I'd be more than happy to make your usual if you'll tell me what it is."

Of course, he already knew what her usual was. Director Thompson was incredibly thorough.

Smiling, Belle tucked her hair behind her ear, quickly informing him, "Peppermint chai tea with just a pinch of sugar, please."

"No milk?" he clarified and she nodded.

"No milk."

As he went about preparing her requested drink, Adam could feel Belle's eyes following him inquisitively. Finally, she asked, "I'm sorry – aren't you the man who offered to help me last night? In front of the computer repair shop?"

Furrowing his brow purposefully, Adam turned to look at her again, making his eyes widen with faux-surprise and embarrassment.

"Oh, God! I'm so sorry. I feel like a fool - I didn't recognize you in the daylight."

She actually laughed faintly at his apology, offering him a small smile.

"I think you're just too kind to say that you didn't recognize me without a blotchy, tear-stained face," she countered and he quickly shook his head, hurrying to assure her otherwise.

"No, no. That's not it at all. You're lovely," he quickly responded, making himself blush when he 'realized' how forward he'd just been. "That is… Well, no. That's the gist of it, I suppose. You're lovely now, and you were lovely last night. Just a bit shaken, is all," he told her softly, prompting her to blush. His responding grin wasn't entirely an act.

"You're just being kind," she disagreed again, cutting him off before he could further praise her so-called 'loveliness'. "I don't think I've seen you around town before. It's quite a small place; I'm sure I'd remember you."

"Oh, yes," Adam agreed, nodding and returning to the task of making her drink. Thankfully, the shop wasn't too busy this early in the day. "I just moved in yesterday, actually. I've been searching for ages for a quaint place to work on my book."

Perking up, Belle found herself immediately asking, "You're a writer?"

Grinning, Adam shrugged as he added her requested pinch of sugar as the teabags steeped.

"An aspiring writer, really. I've yet to finish anything worth reading."

"Same here," Belle agreed, deflating just a little. "Actually, I'd almost finished something, but my laptop, it… it sort of… caught on fire?" she said, although she phrased it like a question because it really did sound ridiculous aloud. Adam gaped at her.

"No! Oh, that's dreadful. What could have caused such a thing?"

"A computer virus, I suppose. It must have fried it enough that it… actually fried," she explained, grimacing slightly, and Adam offered her a sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry," he said and, truthfully, it was genuine. He was sorry that she'd gotten dragged into all of this so unfairly and that it was having such a dreadful impact on her life.

"Oh, well…" Belle sighed, taking out her wallet when he placed her to-go cup of tea on the counter. "You say you just moved in yesterday? Where at?"

"The vacant apartment in the courtyard complex off of King's Street," he informed her and she looked up quickly, gaping at him.

"You're joking," she said in a rush. "I live in that complex!"

"Truly?" Adam asked, laughing.

"Yes!" she gushed, unable to help laughing as well. "My friend and I live in apartment 1A. That's so bizarre! I knew that the Fosters moved out a while ago, but I had no idea that someone new had rented the place."

"It's a small world," Adam stated, taking her offered change and putting it in the register, handing her the cup. As he did so, he flashed her yet another charming smile, certain his alias was working from the way her cheeks flushed. "Perhaps we can be friends. It would be nice to know someone around here, and it seems as if fate has brought us together."

"Well…" Belle said, returning his smile with a small one of her own, "Who are we to defy fate?"

"Accept the things to which fate binds you," Adam quoted, and Belle's eyes widened. As quick as a flash, she continued, "and love the people with whom fate brings you together-"

"-but do so with all your heart," the two finished in synchronization.

Her cheeks flushed and a bright smile pulling at her lips, Belle asked, "You know Marcus Aurelius?"

Shrugging, Adam leaned against the counter again as he grinned at her.

"I took a Roman Philosophy course while I was at university. Some of the things stuck," he explained, finding himself just a bit charmed by the twinkle in her eye. How could a girl with the weight of the world upon her shoulders still shine so brightly?

"I think we're going to be fast friends, Adam…"

"Walker," he finished for her and she smiled, nodding. She'd been about to turn and walk out when he called, "I didn't catch your name, love."

Blushing, but whether it was out of embarrassment or due to the term of endearment Adam didn't know, Belle looked back over at him with a soft smile.

"Belle," she told him, clutching her teacup. "Belle Delacour."

Nodding, Adam smiled at her and watched her walk out, returning to his previous task of heating the milk for the lattes people were bound to start requesting any minute. Without thinking much of it, he tasted her full name on his tongue.

"Belle Delacour…"

A pretty name for a pretty girl, whose first name quite literally meant 'beautiful'. Chuckling to himself, Adam shook his head. Perhaps this surveillance op would be more interesting than he had anticipated.

Ultimately, the goal was to make her fall for him. If they were in a romantic, intimate relationship, he would be able to protect her at a closer distance. He'd be able to monitor her more diligently. Sharing her bed while she slept would make protecting her much simpler than keeping watch from across the courtyard all night.

The agency had given him strict orders that the Intersect must be protected at all costs, but his own personal mission was a bit different. Belle Delacour had to be protected at all costs. Her life, innocent and pure and just barely beginning, was far more important than lines of code.

After work, because they 'just happened' to be getting off at the same time, he'd offered to drive her home. Apparently, her friend's boyfriend, Lou, was supposed to come and get her but had gotten held up at the car lot downtown, trying to get her car out of the impound. Adam had assured Belle that it was no trouble to take her. She had graciously accepted.

So far, much to his relief, everything seemed normal. No one else had stormed the town to take the Intersect for themselves, and Belle was living life as she normally would. She was a bit on edge (and reasonably so) given that she thought her blackout yesterday had been triggered by health problems, rather than having just uploaded a top secret database into her head, but other than that she was completely and utterly normal. Just as always.

Walking alongside her into the courtyard, Adam offered her a smile as she chatted away about all of her favourite books. Finally, she looked up at him and asked, "What's your all time favourite? Don't think about it – just say it."

"Dante's Inferno," he supplied simply, twirling his keys around his finger and smiling easily down at her. "I've always had a soft spot for Italian literature-"

His words, however, trailed off when he noticed the look that had suddenly come over Belle. Her eyes had gone severely out of focus and her lips were pursed into a tight line. Worst of all, he was certain that she wasn't breathing.

"Belle. Belle! Belle, are you alright? Belle!"

Grabbing onto her shoulders, Adam gave her a gentle shake until, finally, she snapped out of it and drew in a trembling breath.

"Are you alright?" he repeated once he was certain she could hear him, lifting a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, and she timidly nodded.

"Yes, I think I'm fine. I don't know what that just was, but…"

Her reassurances trailed off when she noticed how his brow had suddenly furrowed and his eyes had widened.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that? I didn't black out, I just-"

"Belle."

"-kind of went out of focus, and there were these… flashes? Like letters – or maybe the were words, but-"

"Belle!"

Frowning at his shout, she shrank back just a bit as he held onto her shoulders.

"…what?"

Gaping at her, he swallowed roughly before he asked, "Are you not aware that you're speaking fluent Italian?"

"What?" she squeaked, quickly covering her mouth when she realized that he was right, making a panicked sound. She'd never actively learned a single word of Italian in her life. She could barely even pronounce the Italian names on boxes of pasta properly. English and French were her two primary languages, not Italian.

So why the bloody hell was she able to speak it?

"Oh, my god," she whispered, trembling just a little, having to make herself speak English now that she was consciously aware of what she had been doing. "I didn't… I don't… I've got to go," she quickly whispered, hurrying across the courtyard and unlocking her door, disappearing into her apartment. She undoubtedly thought this was some terrible symptom of a brain disorder and Adam felt sicker than ever before.

It wasn't a brain disorder. It was the Intersect. The program was designed to make an agent field ready in a split second; if someone an agent was fighting knew martial arts, the agent would instantly know martial arts. If a contact spoke Italian, the agent would instantly know Italian.

The trouble was, the program had never been tested. They had no idea how well it functioned or even how it functioned. Belle was, as much as he hated it, their guinea pig of sorts. A guinea pig who had just properly experience the Intersect within her brain for the very first time.

So much for hoping it would stay dormant.

Making his way over to his own apartment, Adam relocked the door behind him, chucking his barista apron aside and walking over to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he reached into it and tugged open the concealed door at the back, opening up his armory and tugging the concealed rack outward. Among the arsenal of guns, grenades, knives and anything else he might need to fight a potential threat, was a tape recorder. It was analogue, so that nothing he recorded could be hacked into or traced. Walking over to the front window, Adam pulled aside the sheer white curtains, glancing over at Belle's apartment and pressing record before he started to speak.

"May 4th, 2017. 5:33pm. The subject has displayed the first signs Intersect activity. Trigger word: Italian. Subject began speaking the language fluently without conscious awareness of doing so. The subject then described the first encounter as 'flashes' of words. Further details to be recorded after closer observation."

Shutting the recorder off, Adam took a deep breath.

Things just got much more complicated.