The buzz of the streets continued in its normal fashion as Kendra pulled her jacket tighter about her neck. It was chilly. She kept her head down, hoping no one would see her tear stained face and the dark circles under her eyes from getting next to no sleep the night before.
She practically jumped inside the door to the coffee shop, instantly warmed by the heat and smell of brewing caffeine. Taking a seat at the closest table, she waited for the queue to shorten before getting in herself. With a quick rubbing together of her hands for warmth, she pulled out her phone.
The door opened and another customer came in. She ignored the distraction and found the weather application on her device. It was to be cold all week. With a groan of frustration, she put her phone away and looked up. There was only one other person in line and he was just finishing paying, so she got to her feet and went to stand behind him. Once at the counter, she ordered a black coffee, her eyes barely open, and soon after, she received her cup and went to sit back down. But someone else occupied her seat.
"Excuse me?" she said, tapping him on the shoulder. "I was sitting here."
The man looked up and pushed his blue "London" cap up a bit, his big brown eyes meeting hers.
"I'm sorry," he said, smiling. "I didn't know."
She nodded. "That's alright."
The man got up from the booth and let her in, then slid onto the opposite bench, resting his elbows on the table as he looked her over.
"Now you have your seat, and I have my own," he said, turning back to his phone. "I'm Jim, by the way."
"Kendra," she replied, trying not to look at him. He was rather cute, but she wasn't in the mood for flirting this morning.
"Kendra? I guessed as much," the stranger said, not looking up from the device in his hand.
"Sorry?"
Jim shifted in his seat to find a comfortable position.
"You look like a Kendra, what with your hair and your eyes, your shoes, even."
She looked down at her feet. "My shoes?"
"Yes. The style coupled with the height of the heels points to your personality. You're actually rather short and try to hide it with high shoes. Mostly Christy's, Nicole's, and Kendra's have this character trait."
She looked at him in amazement. "You sure know a lot," she laughed.
He was brightening her mood and she could feel the weight of last night's terror lifting off her weary body. Flirting might just be what the doctor ordered.
Jim looked up at her with a short chuckle. "It's my curse."
Sipping back the last of her coffee, she said, "Well I drank that quickly!"
He nodded absently, looking at his phone again.
"You know," she started. "I live alone. I haven't had any...er...guests lately. Would you like to come over sometime?"
Jim just about sputtered his drink away. "Umm... I suppose?"
She smiled. "Good. You should finish your coffee first. You'll need the energy."
A chuckle escaped her when his eyebrows went up.
"Well," he began. "Now is the only time I have today. I've got a full schedule."
"So do I," she agreed with a grin.
They looked at each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to move. After what felt like a lifetime, Jim stood and took her cup from her to toss it in the bin with his, and they set off.
Kendra unlocked the door to her flat and let him inside, locking the door behind them. Before she could say anything, he had her up against the wall, pulling her jacket from her shoulders. She reached up to take the cap from his head and tossed it somewhere into the interior of the room. Next, her shirt was lifted over her head. She kicked off her shoes, no longer taller than him, and he leaned in for a kiss.
She had just managed to get his shirt off, her hands wandering over his chest, when his phone rang.
They stopped, the mood mercilessly killed.
"I need to get that," he said apologetically.
She nodded and he stepped away to answer the call.
"Yes?" he said to the person on the other end.
Kendra picked up her shirt and held it to her chest, feeling awkward standing in the corner by the door.
"What do you mean?... It's ready now?... All right. I'm on my way."
Jim turned to her, his eyebrows pushed together in regret.
"I am so sorry. My meeting got moved up."
They began gathering their clothing and pulling it back over their bare skin.
"Might I walk you to your meeting?" Kendra dared to ask in the deafening silence.
Jim placed his cap on his head. "Probably not."
"Well, I'm coming anyway, whether you like it or not," she replied, trying to sound playful, not desperate for human interaction.
He looked at her, puzzled, then walked out the door with her close behind.
"Will there be time after your meeting?" she asked once they got out onto the street.
"Probably not," Jim answered, looking at his watch.
He stopped to pull out his phone.
"What is it?" she pressed, looking over his shoulder.
He pressed a button and a message popped up on the screen:
Destroying Bank
A gasp escaped her mouth, but it was lost in the noise of the explosion three blocks down. She covered her ears, flinching. She could feel the shockwaves hitting her chest. The rumble of the building falling in on itself was deafening.
After a moment, she opened one eye to look at the man in front of her. Jim was standing on the sidewalk, arms outstretched, a malicious smile across his lips as he listened to the sound of destruction.
Shrinking back, away from him, she watched as he began dancing around on his toes, eyes closed and singing, waltzing down the pavement as he went.
"What the hell, Jim?!" Kendra shouted over the sirens bellowing by. "What is wrong with you?"
He turned to her, opening his mouth to speak, and she unstopped her ears to hear him.
"Everything," he whispered.
A black car pulled up to the curb and he opened the door, setting his left foot inside.
"It was fun, Kendra," he said in a sing-song voice. "But my meeting has started. Buh-bye!"
Kendra's mind flashed with a thousand thoughts in that instant. What was going on? Who was this guy? Why did he just destroy one of the biggest banks in the whole of London? She wanted to run away, to hide in darkness from this mad man, but in the back of her mind was the thought that she shouldn't let him get away, and she decided to listen to it.
Before he could get the door closed, she threw her foot in the opening and forced her way inside.
"What are you doing?!" Jim cried as the door slammed and the car began to move.
Kendra slapped him across the face, knocking his cap off.
"That's for lying to me! I've seen enough already to be a key witness at your trial! And I told you I was coming whether you like it or not!"
It was a dumb excuse for sure, but Jim still threw his hands up in defeat.
"All right. You can come. But only if you do exactly as I tell you."
She nodded as the car stopped again.
"Stay here," Jim said softly.
Another nod, as she was unable to do anything else, what with the fear crippling her movements.
"No." He leaned close to her, an accusing finger staring her down. "Stay. Right. Here." He tapped her nose, smiled, and left the car.
Once he was gone, Kendra took a breath and rubbed her hands together, this time from nervousness, not the cold.
What am I doing here? she thought. I shouldn't be here. He'll kill me without hesitation. What was I thinking?
The door opened and Jim slid into the seat next to her, slamming the door shut before the chill could make its way into the car. But he was different now. He was dressed in a suit and tie with dress shoes and an overcoat. Not only had he changed clothes, but his whole character-the way he carried himself, the way he observed the world passing them by-was different.
He held something out to her but it took a moment for her to shift her focus away from his new demeanor.
"Lose the heels, honey," Jim commanded. "And the up-do. It's unbecoming of you."
"Excuse me, but where do you get off-"
He turned his head lazily in her direction, his skull rotating disinterestedly, a look of total indifference on his face.
"Remember our agreement?"
She swallowed around the lump in her throat, the momentary bravery slipping through her grasp.
"I thought so," he said. "If you're going to be around all day, I want you to at least be presentable. You look like a hooker as you are now."
He turned away, his movement just as disinterested as before. His hand was still extended toward her, two shoes dangling from his fingers. She shrank away from him, but followed his instructions. She slid the shoes off her feet and slipped on the new ones, cute ballet flats. She tested them, bending her foot this way and that, and determined that they were no good for running. But maybe that was the point.
"I guessed your shoe size to be about a seven and a half."
Jim rolled down the window, taking her seventy-five quid pumps, and tossed them out of the opening, causing a few cars to swerve behind them. At this, he smiled.
It's as if he likes making people suffer, Kendra thought.
What had happened to nice, sweet, little Jim at the coffee shop? Now he was a sadistic psychopath, dressed up as a man.
"The hair?"
Kendra just about jumped out of her skin at the two words. He was looking at her again, his face uncomfortably close to hers.
"Sorry," she apologized, clutching her chest to quiet her pounding heart. "I forgot."
She reached up and pulled out the pins holding the neat bun she had worked so hard on that morning. Her red-gold hair fell from its place in cascades of wavy silk over her shoulders. Her hair was the one thing she liked about herself, the one thing she allowed herself to be proud of.
"That's better," Jim said, grinning. "Now you look pretty."
Kendra's jaw clenched and something in her mind snapped. Rage built up inside her diaphragm until she took hold of his collar, pulling herself around in front of him.
"You have no right to say that to me, you bloody asshole!"
She was shaking him, her hands trembling in anger. Her eyes glared down into his face, her teeth bared like a lioness going in for the kill.
His grin slowly grew bigger. "Very good, Kenny! You'll do nicely."
"What in the bloody hell are you stammering about?!" she shouted, giving his collar another fierce shake.
Jim lifted the console between the seats and glanced down into it. She followed his gaze, catching a glimpse of a Glock 30SF resting inside. Slowly, she let go of his collar and backed away. He closed the console and she took her seat again.
"I like you, Kenny. Really I do. Just don't go threatening me like that again." There was a silence as he straightened his shirt and adjusted his tie. "So which division was it? Special forces? Snipers?"
She froze, eyes wide and hands trembling. "How...how did you know?"
He turned his gaze back to the window, his voice droning on in a monotone as he listed off the little details that he noticed about her. "You're fit for a woman of your caliber. Just now, when you attacked me, you lost control of yourself and acted on instinct rather than intellect; traits of a special ops soldier. So which division was it?"
Kendra stared into her shaking hands, her memories crippling all natural functions.
"Interpol," she finally managed.
"I see."
The car stopped again and Jim prepared to leave.
"Same as before," he instructed, eyes drilling into her skull. "Don't move until I say so."
She nodded, silenced by the villainous look in his eyes.
"Barry, you know the drill," Jim tossed over his shoulder as he got out.
"Yes, sir," Barry acknowledged as he turned on the radio. Static filled the car's interior.
Kendra watched Jim walk round the back end of the vehicle and enter the warehouse they were now parked in front of. The static in the speakers eventually cleared and she could hear what sounded like footsteps, then a voice.
"You finally made it!"
"Had a small diversion," Jim's voice replied.
She rolled her eyes. A diversion? That's what he was calling it?
"You got my money?"
Jim hesitated. "Not all of it."
"Come on! I held up my end! Where's my goddamn money?"
Jim tried to calm the man.
"I have twenty-five percent with me now. I didn't think you'd go through with it like last time, so I don't have it all. If you had done it right the first time-"
"Shut up! Collin, get rid of him!"
Kendra's eyes widened. Instinctively, she reached for the gun in the console and jumped out of the car, taking the silencer that was laying beside the gun as well. She heard Barry's protests, but ignored them. She screwed the silencer into the end of the barrel and stood at the entrance to the warehouse, peering around the corner.
The one named Collin held Jim stiffly as the other guy tapped the butt of a gun to his palm.
"One last time, Moriarty. I know you have quid stashed all over this city. Where is it?"
Jim stood silently and stared his adversary down, his eyes narrowed like an angry feline.
The man raised his gun, pulling the hammer back.
Instinct kicked in again. Kendra raised the Glock, one hand under the magazine well, the other wrapped firmly around the grip, just like in training. It felt so familiar that she didn't even have to think about it. She aimed carefully at the man with the gun, and tapped the trigger.
He went down silently, and she had about two seconds to shoot the other one before he would turn, using Jim as a human shield. But her reflexes were still quick and she planted a bullet in his brain before he even had time to shift his weight.
Jim shook the thug off his shoulders and turned to find his savior.
"Didn't I tell you to stay?" he asked, walking angrily toward her.
She hid the gun inside her jacket and waved him on.
"Let's go before the police arrive!"
Jim followed her and they slid into the car just as Barry pushed the pedal to the floor, and they were gone.
Kendra unscrewed the silencer and placed it and the gun back in the console.
"That really should be cleaned," she said timidly.
Both she and Jim were trying to calm their breathing. He inhaled deeply before turning to her with that criminal smile.
"I knew you would be useful."
"Yes. Well, I'm glad." Kendra looked around, feeling like she was going to vomit. She couldn't think. She couldn't was no oxygen in the vehicle. She needed out.
"Stop the car!"
They came to a halt as she jumped out, running for the nearest building. Jim got out and followed her inside to the stairwell.
"Stop, Kenny! Wait!" he shouted.
She didn't listen. Instead, she ran up the stairs to the roof. Once there, she ran to the edge, gripping the block that served as a railing, and finally stopped to take a breath. The air ten stories up was much clearer.
"Kenny, what are you doing?" Jim called, coming to her side.
She turned on him, eyes narrowed. "Stop calling me that!"
Jim flinched, but recovered his smooth demeanor with a grin reminiscent of the Chesire Cat. "Oh, my dear! I like it when you're angry!"
Kendra threw her hands up with a frustrated scream and turned away from him. "You're insane!"
Jim laughed. "Really? I didn't know."
She took a few more deep breaths of the air, then turned around on her heel which was now firmly planted on the ground, thanks to his choice of shoes.
"You don't understand, Jim. That was the third time I've taken a life, and I still haven't recovered from the first two."
Jim paused, squinting sideways at her. "Really?"
She breathed deeply again, calming her heart rate. "Yes. Even though I was Interpol, I only ever needed to shoot someone twice. Most of the time, people quailed at the mere sight of my gun."
Jim looked down at his feet, his eyes glancing up at her every few seconds. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Kendra crossed her arms defensively, looking him over. He seemed sincere. Strange.
"Maybe," she managed.
He sat on the edge of the block railing and patted the stone beside him. She slowly lowered herself down, taking another breath.
"Just one question before I continue," she said.
"Hmm?"
"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "Letting me talk?"
He looked at his watch, then down the height of the building, his lips turned down in a thoughtful frown. "Because I have half an hour before my next meeting...and I'm bored," he shrugged.
She waited for a moment before allowing herself to tell him her tale.
"That first day I started," she began. "They put me with the snipers. At first, I loved it. I'm a good shot and I like high places. I feel safe up here, in control. I guess that's why I wear those shoes." She thought back to the pair that were now lying in the road, probably getting ruined. "I think I need to be high up to feel alright, to breathe."
Jim nodded, listening intently as she spoke to the air just left of his shoulder.
"That day, I was in position, had the target in my sights, and I was given the order to pull the trigger. It...it was the first life I had ever taken.
"I went into a serious depression after that. I was transferred to different departments every week until I landed in special ops. There, I found my home...for a while."
Jim glanced down at his hands, almost afraid to ask. "What happened?"
"I had to kill a friend. My partner was a turncoat and I was the only one who could get close enough to stop him. After that, I left Interpol. Got a boring desk job as a temp." She stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I still come up here sometimes, though. Just breathe the air up here, Jim."
Jim breathed in, his eyes closing as he pulled the air into his lungs. "It tastes good."
"Yes. Yes it does."
Jim thought a moment, then opened one eye to look at her. "So then, if you don't like killing, why did you shoot the Johnson brothers to save me?"
She paused. She didn't really know. Her body had acted on its own, the familiarity of the situation making it easy to slip back into old habits.
"Reflex, I suppose," she answered. "I responded to the situation the way anyone would."
"But you know that I caused the explosion at the bank, killing lots of little ordinary people. You could have very easily let the Brothers carry out justice. Yet, you still risked yourself for me."
She turned to him, her eyebrows furrowed in contempt. "What are you suggesting?"
He smiled and leaned close to her ear, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"I think you like me."
She jumped to her feet, backing away, trembling in confusion and rage and disgust. "That's...that's insane!"
He stood and came close to her. Too close.
"I know attraction when I see it," he said quietly.
She stared at him, part of her afraid, part of her enraged.
"How do you get off thinking these twisted-"
"Your eyes, honey." The words abruptly cut her sentence short, throwing her off. "They're dilated, even now. That's sexual attraction. Secondly, the act of saving my life. That should be obvious, even to you."
Her body wouldn't stop shaking. Still, he stepped closer, his lips just brushing her ear, his voice dropping to a whisper once more.
"It's not wrong, you know, to fall for a psychopath like me...when you are one yourself."
Repulsion took her, and she stepped back, preparing to strike if need be. Somehow, she managed to stop herself before injuring him.
Maybe he was right. Maybe she was a psychopath, a sociopath, even. She felt no remorse for the lives she'd ended just moments ago. Maybe he was right. She hadn't felt quite human since... Maybe she was sick. Like him.
Jim pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling through pages to find the particular application. One tap of the screen, and violins began to play from the speakers. He placed it back in his pocket, humming to the tune and moved closer to her.
"It's okay to like me, Kenny, because...I like you too," he said softly.
He slipped a hand behind her and rested it on her back, lacing the fingers of the other hand between hers. She tensed, started to back away, but he held her to him.
"Shhh... It's okay," he soothed her. "You're sick like me. It's okay to like this. Just let go."
She hesitated, her head turned away from his face. Part of her wanted to run, but the other part was slowly melting under his touch. Maybe she was sick. Maybe. Just maybe...
Her muscles loosened and she placed her free hand on his shoulder, letting herself be pulled closer until their bodies were touching. She slowly turned her head back to him, laying it on his chest. After a moment, he dropped his face down, a cheek on her soft hair.
And they began dancing on the rooftop to the violins playing from within Jim's pocket.
After a few more stops, Jim dropped her off at her flat.
"Will you be alright by yourself?" he asked as she tried to unlock the door.
"Yes. I'll probably go right to sleep," she laughed as the portal opened.
"Well...good night, then."
Jim gave her a curt nod before sliding back into the car and leaving. For a moment, Kendra thought she saw a trace of Jim from the coffee shop come back. His voice had gone soft again and the way he walked back to the car made him seem more approachable than he had been before. She watched the car drive away, wondering just who Jim Moriarty was.
Once inside, she threw herself onto the sofa, slowly drifting into sleep. The last thought to enter her mind before losing consciousness was a question, one that would haunt her for a long time afterward.
What have I done?