Author's Notes: It's like six-thirty in the morning and I haven't slept in eighteen hours.

Dan Vs. The Reveal

Huddled up in the corner, knees to her chest and arms around her legs, Elise could think off well over two hundred and sixty eight different places she'd rather be then where she was now. That is snowed in a cabin on a disastrous ski trip with the living example of why humanity was slowly circling the drain.

"And it's not like I like giving up my weekend to go demolish some esteemed writer career over some completely contrived plot that's full of holes big enough for Chris to fit through."

Namely Dan.

In her long line of assassinations, covert ops, and counter intelligence she'd never quite met someone with the same egotism, hatred, and temper. Dear god, did he have a temper. It seemed he found something new that annoyed him to the point of revenge by extreme property damage and copious amounts of irreversible trauma every other day. He was a menace to society that should've been locked behind impervious steel walls and wrapped in layers of straitjackets and muzzled. And chained to the wall. And maybe a crippled limb or two, just to be safe.

"I don't like being this angry."

Of all the people in the world, of all the low-life, two-bit scum that deemed fit to crawl to the surface and pollute the face of the Earth with their foil existence, none came close to inducing the same irritation, aggravation, and sheer rage that Dan could bring about in her.

"I just can't help but notice the flaws in every little thing."

Yes, she would rather be in Pakistan gunning down revolutionary with a broken arm, six bullets and a bright red target shirt than suffer the torture that was Dan for a prolonged period.

Dan was saying something, but she was only half listening. She was currently half-way buried in cards after all. A product of Dan's boredom. His latest card came whizzing and she snatched out of the air without looking. She was angry. Oh yes, she was shaking with rage. She raised her head, eyes narrowed and a flurry of retorts and insult built inside her, begging for release.

She glared at Dan.

He stared back with half-lidded eyes, the verdant pools softening even now to a warm, liquid jade. They were snowed in and there was the very likely chance they might die. And for the first time ever she realized something.

Dan…was actually human.

Underneath that thick, clotted layers upon layers upon layers of violent pettiness there was a normal human being. And they had accepted that they were going to die and that waxing out their life's story and inner woes was of no consequence: the listener would be dead soon too. Dan had lost will to fight. The fire fed by hatred and vengeance had been smothered.

And he had called her Perfect.

And he said it sans the token sarcasm. And he only did that when he was speaking what he believed to be the truth. He thought she was perfect. She, Elise Jr., first-born and studious and out of an acclaimed university who was polite and good-natured and caring with a perfectly normal job and terrific husband, was perfect. She, Dancing Shadow, who'd been singled out early for excelling and been trained at a front school who was cold and efficient and heartless while on her job which she kept her loving and devoted husband ignorant of.

And he called her 'Perfect'.

"Actually, Dan, I'm not so perfect either."

She expected the conversation to end at that, for the little troll to huff or spout some insult like he'd normally do.

"Yeah? How so?"

The cold must really be effecting him.

"I've been keeping a secret from everyone. About my job."

He'd made some flippant response.

"My real job is…"

Her first thought was to throw out the most outlandish thing she could think of. But then she looked at Dan. He was smiling. Heck, he looked almost…giddy. Like a little kid when they were about to be told one of the great mysteries of life. Or like Chris when she mentioned she be making bacon. His emerald eyes shone with anticipation. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to hear whatever it is Elise had to say. She opened her mouth, ready to spit out her choice answer.

"I work for a quasi government agency."

And they were going to die anyway, so why not throw the guy a bone, just this once?

DDD

This was stupid.

It is necessary.

With ease born from years of practice, she darted down the alleyway, bounding her way up the wall and to the roof. Her long, scarlet scarf blew mystically in the moonlit night. Her vision swept over the still walls before falling onto an open window.

This was an overreaction.

It is within protocol.

She was a streak as she whished forward, landing deftly on the window sill. A shape moved in the darkness and purred curiously. She reached overhead and slowly redrew a long edge of tempered steel: a katana. The shape caught the light and hissed. A pellet smacked into its face and it tumbled to the floor in a heap. She crept down inside, blade at the ready.

This was being petty.

It is to retain status quo.

With a lithe hand she pulled back the sheets, revealing her quarry half dressed in the same shirt and striped boxers. He mumbled something in his sleep and shifted, exposing his neck. This would be easy. A clean cut and it'd be over in seconds. He wouldn't even feel much pain. He wouldn't suffer.

This was wrong.

It is no different from what you do every week.

The katana was raised and poised. Without hesitation, it swung down.

"Whaargh!"

The blade gleamed a sliver away from his neck. From his frightened eyes and the way they darted from it to his would-be assassin they'd known how easily they could've been killed. She reached up and pulled down her neck wear, gaining a look of shock in return.

"Dan."

And if I won't do it?

We'll gladly find someone who will.

"We need to talk."

Author's Notes: It is now seven-forty-four and I am so exhausted, I can barely see straight. I think this was pretty decent for my first dip into Dan Vs. TTFN!