Thanks to everyone who read this story, especially to LaylaaSkiesOfBlue, Darkness. Reaper and mozzi-girl for reviewing, I was so happy when I saw them that I decided to write another chapter as soon as possible! Hope you guys like it!
Agent Natara Williams was awoken from sleep by the same dream that had plagued her the night before. And the night before that. And every night since it happened. She was on the roof again, staring at the crossbow and knowing what was about to happen but remaining completely powerless to stop it. She sat up, unclenching her fists and slowing her breathing again. Rolling back onto her pillow, she cried bitterly into it, angry with herself for her lack of control. She was an FBI agent, for God's sake. Every morning she promised herself it wouldn't happen again, and during the day she could just about convince herself that she was ok, that she had stopped blaming herself, but every night she proved herself wrong. How could she stop feeling so guilty when it was all her fault?
Forcing her eyes shut, she willed herself to go back to sleep, but she knew from experience that that was unlikely. After a few minutes of lying in the darkness, eyes closed tight but mind racing, the phone began to ring. At three in the morning. Swallowing nervously, she remembered what had happened the last time the phone had rung in the middle of the night…
"Natara? It's Ken… sorry to wake you, but something's happened. Can you get down to the precinct?"
Natara felt the blood drain from her face. "Mal? It's not Mal, is it? He isn't…"
"No, Nat, it's not Mal. It's Blaise. She's missing. She said something to Amy about following a lead and she's been MIA ever since. We need you here, Natara. If it's to do with the Russian Mafia investigation, she may not have much time…"
"Right, yeah," Natara replied, completely lost for words, "I'll be there in ten."
Throwing on yesterday's work clothes, Natara hurried to the precinct, her mind racing. Where could Blaise have gone? They had barely had anything to go on, just a few name and- the code. Suddenly Natara realised what she was missing. The code unlocked everything. It wasn't a cryptogram, as they had first thought. It was an Acronym. A.Z.T.C. The Alexander Zvetnev Trading Company. Whipping the car around, Natara pushed her foot down hard on the gas. If Blaise were found at the factory, she would almost certainly be killed…
A few moments later, Natara was creeping round the back of the factory, shining a meagre torch beam in front of her that barely made a dent in the dense, black darkness. Suddenly, she heard movement behind her. Spinning around and reaching for her gun, her eyes landed on Blaise Corso, who was crouching behind two oil drums.
"Natara!" she hissed, "get down! What are you even doing here?"
"What am I doing here? I'm here looking for you! More to the point, what are you doing here without back up? Are you even wearing a vest?"
Blaise said nothing, simply glaring back at Natara and pulling her flimsy, cotton cardigan tighter across her chest. They stared at each other in silence for a few moments, before Blaise suddenly leapt to her feet, gun raised, and headed towards a back door.
"I'm going in." she whispered to Natara, and before she could even try to stop her, Blaise had slipped inside the factory.
Shocked, Natara took a moment to process. Part of her wanted to run in after Blaise, to get a share of the glory for once but years of training and a level head persuaded her not to. She immediately called for back-up, following protocol, and waited. But she could not just stand there while Blaise was risking her life inside. So she crept in behind her.
Inside the factory, Natara could hear voices coming from the small office to her right. One of them was that of Blaise Corso.
"Please," she begged, sounding uncharacteristically afraid, "I can explain! I'm not a cop I-"
Then there was a gunshot. The voices had stopped. Quickly ducking behind a stack of boxes, Natara managed to hide herself just in time to avoid the three burly Russian men who emerged from the office. As soon as they were out of earshot, Natara ran to the office door, throwing it open and almost slipping on some spilt liquid as she stepped into the room. The liquid was blood, Blaise Corso's blood, which was still spilling from the gaping hole where her face used to be. Natara checked for a pulse, but there was no point. Blaise was clearly dead.
Shaking the memory from her head, Natara picked up the phone.
"Natara Williams? It's Jacob Fallon. Sorry to call so late, but I need you to help me sneak into the hospital."
Mr. Fallon, I-"
"Please, Jacob."
"Jacob, you're a convicted felon on the run from the police. I'm an FBI agent. I don't think I can-"
"Please," he asked, his voice suddenly growing husky, "I know I'm putting you in a difficult position… but I have to see Mal. I have to see my son. If I never went to see him, and he…" his voice trailed off, leaving nothing but the static on the line to break the charged silence.
"But why now? Why wait ten years?"
"I didn't know," he responded sadly, "I- I only found out yesterday. I've been lying low, Africa, South America… no one told me. If I'd known, I-"
"Ok," Natara replied, moved by the emotion in the old man's voice, "I'll help you. Where are you right now?"
"Outside your apartment building."
