A/N: So I just wanted to quickly note a change for any of you who had read the previous chapter before I updated it. I the orange haired guy's hair color to dark chestnut brown since I tweaked the story line a little bit. And I wanted to warn anyone who doesn't like blood that there's going to be some semi-graphic descriptions of it, though nothing that I believe would make you sick to your stomach. Okay, enjoy!
The standard black GMC Denali shook slightly, siren blaring and internally built lights flashing as it swerved between lanes and tipped dangerously as it took corners. Rose was curled up in the middle seat, knees pulled tightly to her chest and hands clutching at the black leather upholstery of the seats. Her eyes dashed around the car wildly, but the only thing she could really notice was how the car smelled of pine because of an unnaturally green colored cardboard tree hanging from the rear view mirror. The fake tree swung and shook and bounced with each turn, the string worried and stretched from the jostling of the rough ride. The elastic began to fray, the pressure placed on it becoming too much until it finally gave an audible snap!, flying through the air to hit Rose's knee and clunk to the floor where it still continued to slide across the carpeting.
She reached for it, legs extending from their curled position and hands cramping slightly from being held in such a tight grip. She didn't want to focus on the blood that stained her black jeans, dyeing them as dark as the void of space, or the metallic, rusty scent of them that would never wash out. It curled through her nose, making her want to gag. Her clothes were heavy and her body didn't want to move. It felt like thick, freezing salt water surrounded her, slowing her movements and weighing down her limbs. The tips of her fingers were numb and her feet were tingly, as if thousands of tiny needles were stabbing them over and over again.
The sight of her blurry hands brought her to a halt; they were painted a shocking scarlet, the red standing out starkly against her almond toned skin. The painting continued up her arms, looking as if a careless, unpracticed artist had used her body as a canvas. The brushstrokes were uneven and calloused. The reds across her arms varied from a deep crimson in the thicker areas to a soft, watered down pink where the blood was barely spread. The artist had created splatters against her neck; she could feel the crusted half-dried blood and scratched at it, abandoning the tree to be bruised and knocked around on the floor.
Once she started to pick at the blood along her body, her mind seemed to wake up. She realized that shouting was ringing through the car, that the two agents sitting in the front were caught up in their own argument.
"…supposed to be guarding the door, you idiot!" The one in the driver's seat pounded his left fist against the window, his straight dark hair seeming to stand on end in his fury. "How the fuck did she get past you?!" Rose would've been offended by his tone if she wasn't still half focused on picking blood off of herself. It gathered beneath her fingernails, her blue nail polish invisible beneath the layers of grime.
The one in the passenger's seat held his head in his hands and his voice was muffled. Rose had to strain to hear his words. "There was a fight going on in the club. I thought one of the guys had a knife!" He lifted his head now, his expression apologetic. "You know the code, whenever you see a crime taking place you have to try to stop it!"
"The code doesn't apply when you're an undercover agent, Ashford! Your one job was to make sure nobody got into that back alley. You couldn't even do that right! The bureau should send you back to Quantico!" Rose was pretty sure that if he hadn't been driving, his hands would have been around the other one's throat.
"Look, I'm sorry that I fucked up," The driver snorted, but put his left hand back on the wheel. "but nobody had tried to get through that door all night. It was a rookie mistake, I admit it." The car was silent except for the sound of its siren. L.A. traffic at three AM was as thinned out as it was ever going to get, so the Denali didn't have too much trouble maneuvering around the cars that hadn't pulled to the side of the road in time.
Rose was about to speak, try to get some sort of information as to where they were taking her, but the guy named Ashford beat her to it. "Why were there so many guys anyway? It was just supposed to be a quick meet between our agent and one of their higher-ups. He wasn't supposed to bring back up."
The driver hesitated. "Somebody gave his name to the Dashkov cartel." He growled, voice menacing.
Ashford's mouth gaped like a fish out of water. "But… that means… shit."
"Yeah. The FBI has a mole." His voice was tinged with regret, but it didn't seem as if he was surprised. "Not everyone is a crime-fighting, FBI loving person, Ashford, not even the ones that work for the Bureau. You'd best learn that now."
Rose was hesitant to continue now, afraid she would break Agent Ashford due to the shocked, almost heartbroken expression on his face. But, being Rose, she decided to interrupt the pregnant silence anyway. Her throat felt clogged and she had to clear it, startling the two Agents. "So, seeing as you two decided to drag me across some pavement and throw me into this car instead of letting me go on my merry way, I suspect you have a certain destination in mind?" Despite attempting her usual devil-may-care attitude, her voice shook and cracked; she could tell that both agents picked up on her nervousness and fear as they looked at each other. "And could you possibly turn the siren and lights off now? They're killing me."
She immediately regretted her choice of words as the sight of the limp, bleeding body of the dead agent entered her mind. His blue eyes were so clear in death, but Rose could still remember the wrinkling of crow's feet at the corners that belied the pain he experienced right before he left. She choked, her chest feeling as if it was going to explode. Her breathing became heavy and labored; Rose could only manage short pants as she stuck he head in between her knees. Her legs became a small cave and she closed her eyes, letting darkness envelop her.
"You heard the woman, Adrian. Turn that shit off. I don't even know why you had it on in the first place." She heard a seatbelt unbuckle and jerked away when a warm hand landed on her knee. "Don't touch me." She managed to bite out quickly, trying to regulate her breathing. After the night she'd had the last thing she needed was the feeling of someone else's hands on her. "I'm fine. I'll be fine." She chanted between breaths.
"We should've let the paramedics take a look at her. She's in no condition to be taken in for questioning right now."
"She might not be in good condition, but we had to get her out of there. We don't know whether Caza or the Dashkov Cartel saw her. Besides, she's strong. Most civilians would be doing a hell of a lot more than having a slight panic attack by now." Rose lifted her head, breathing better for now, and met the driver's brown eyes in the review mirror. She saw the corners of his mouth lift and his eyes flicker back to the road before meeting hers again. "There she is. Sorry if I scared you earlier in the alleyway, sweetheart. You just surprised me."
"Rose. My name is Rose." She said, feeling a little more normal since this man made no attempt to treat her like she was breakable.
"What, you don't like sweetheart?" Rose thought the man would've gathered that form the practiced glare she was sending his way. "Okay, no sweetheart. How about just Rosie?" She was surprised her glare hadn't burnt a hole through the mirror by now. "Okay, not one for nicknames obviously."
"Obviously." Rose growled sarcastically.
Adrian chuckled and moved his line of vision fully to the road. "Oh, I like her! Told you that she'd be fine, Ashford." He took his right hand off the wheel to punch Ashford not-so-lightly in the shoulder.
"You can call me Mason." He said while rubbing his shoulder and giving Adrian a disgruntled look. "Ashford's my last name."
Now that she got a closer look at him, Mason looked to be about her age; she thought that most undercover FBI agents were much older. Adrian, however, looked to be in his early thirties, though Rose had to admit that he was an attractive early thirty.
"Hey look kiddos, we're here!" Adrian practically bounced out of the car, as if they had just arrived at some long-anticipated vacation spot.
"I don't appreciate that nickname either." Rose said while she unbuckled and looked out her window. They had pulled up to a tall, black, nondescript square building. She knew the type instantly; it was exactly the type her mother worked out of in D.C. and Virginia. She hated buildings like this, they only reminded her of the mother that she lost to the CIA. It wasn't the FBI that she hated though, so it's not like she wasn't willing to cooperate.
Despite it being so late, many of the office lights lit up the sides of the buildings, highlighting the other cars in the lot. Almost all of them were some sort of standard cop car, ranging from Crown Victorias, Camaros, and more Denalis, and painted in either white and blue or plain, midnight black.
Mason hesitantly opened the door for her, holding his hand out for her to grasp onto. She ignored it as she stepped out, still disgruntled that they had taken her here while giving her no information.
"C'mon Princess." Apparently Adrian wasn't going to stop with the nicknames. He prodded her from behind, making her stumble towards the building.
"I have rights. You can't hold me if you don't think I'm a suspect in a crime case." Despite her words, she kept walking.
Adrian snorted. "You'd be right on that account, but I'm guessing you don't want to be found by a drug cartel and taken hostage and/or shot on sight. If you'd rather do that, you're free to leave." Well, he had her there. Rose crossed her arms and continued to follow Mason while Adrian walked beside her.
As they entered the building, Rose heard her shoes squelching. She looked down and froze. The imprints of her black keds were written across the white tile flooring in blood, showing every ridge and circle etched into the shoeprint. The image of the gun firing and the man falling to the pavement entered her mind again. A small noise involuntarily escaped her throat, though she didn't notice. "Don't worry about it, happens all the time. The janitors will get it." Adrian's voice was soft in her ear as he placed a firm hand on her back, leading her forward gently.
The tile changed to short, practical gray carpeting as they entered the room at the end of the hallway. Rose was grateful that all of the blood had seemed to leak from her shoes by now. A secretary sitting at a desk was the second thing Rose noticed. Her mouth fell open as she saw Rose. "Hello Karen, could you please get some new clothes for this lovely young woman and notify the janitors that there is a, uh, mess to clean up." He looked behind him. "You may also want to tell them to bring the heavy duty cleaners. And close your mouth, Karen; you're going to catch flies." With his comment the secretary shook her head, closed her mouth, and scurried off towards the closest elevator. Adrian sighed melodramatically. "Good secretaries are so hard to find these days." Mason just shook his head and led them towards a room with a large oval table and several chairs scattered around it. The walls and door were glass, so everything could be seen. This comforted Rose for some reason.
"Here." Mason pulled out a chair at the closest end of the table. It was one of the nice ones with wheels and comfortable padding. It had dark blue upholstery with black leather armrests.
Rose hesitated. "I'm pretty sure you don't want me staining a perfectly good chair." She said, though she was dying to sit down again; it felt as is her body was made of lead.
Adrian waved his hand in the air and pushed her down into the chair. "The good taxpayers of California can afford to replace one chair." Rose just shrugged and settled into the chair, thanking Adrian and the good taxpayers of California as she did.
Mason and Adrian also took seats at the opposite end of the table. Rose appreciated the space but also felt like this was going to turn into an interrogation. She sat up straighter, squaring her shoulders and wiping her face of emotion. Mason checked his watch impatiently, waiting for something. "They'll be here soon. I notified them before we left."
"Who? Who'll be here soon?" Rose questioned, keeping her voice even but desperate for information. She already knew that they didn't consider her a suspect in anything but she also knew that they would want information.
"That's not the most important thing at the moment." Adrian spoke, his playful air now gone. He opened a small drawer attached to the belly of the table and retrieved a notepad and pen. "Rose, I'm just going to ask you a few simple questions, okay? And I need you to cooperate; no withholding information and no lies. Just answer the questions as fully as possible."
"Okay. No problem." Rose could do this. She was always taught that law enforcement buildings were some of the safest places in the world. So why didn't she feel it?
"Full name?"
"Rosemarie Hathaway." She hated having to give her last name in case they discovered her relation to her mother.
"Birthplace?"
"Washington D.C."
"Place of work?"
"Mazur's…" Rose was getting a little peeved. "…can't you get all of this information if you put my name into the FBI database or one of your magical people finding programs?" Rose questioned, realizing now that when Adrian said simple questions, he really meant simple questions.
Adrian chuckled and Mason rolled his eyes at his antics. "Well, you're a quick one. I'm just stalling for time and trying to make you a little more comfortable. Plus we'd like to give you a chance to tell us about yourself before your life is stripped bare and we find out everything about you and everyone who's ever been involved with you in any way shape or form." Adrian shrugged and gave Rose a slick smirk.
Rose smirked right back, unphased by this man. She'd grown up around her Uncle Stan who was probably the most intimidating person currently living. "Go look up my name if you want. My record is squeaky clean, not even a speeding ticket. Unless you count a couple of suspensions in High School for fighting." If you counted breaking an arm and two noses as just plain fighting. "So how about you shove your FBI intimidation tactics up your-" Rose was cut off by Karen entering with a pile of clothes and five bottles of water.
"Why thank you, Karen. The water is much appreciated, though the delivery could have been a bit more timely." Karen nodded and scurried away, seemingly scared of Adrian.
"Why are you such an asshole?" Mason asked, but Adrian was cut off from answering as the door opened again.
Now, Rose wasn't really the kind of girl to be attracted to any member of any sort of law enforcement agency, whether it be a low-level cop or Adrian's kind, but hell, the man that just entered the room was an exception if she ever saw one. Her eyes widened as she took in his height, at least a foot taller than her already 5" 7' frame. His eyes shone a deep chocolate brown and his hair matched them. The long, chin-length locks looked messy and ruffled, as though he had just rolled out of bed. Rose decided that the look suited him as it accentuated his chiseled jaw line. His dimpled chin led to perfectly proportioned lips. He did have a crooked nose, as if it had been broken one too many times, but it just made her want to run her fingers along the bridge of it and into the stubble of his unshaven face.
His chocolate eyes flickered quickly over her blood stained form before moving to Adrian. "Do you have her file yet?" Adrian looked imploringly at Mason, who sighed and moved to a computer outside of the room.
Rose was just a little bit insulted that he didn't give her any more thought. "What, no "Hello, my name is so-and-so, what's yours?"
The man's mouth lifted at the corner briefly before settling back into a straight line. "Well, I can learn that from Adrian here, can't I?" His voice was deep and musky, and it gave Rose goose bumps along her arms.
"C'mon, not even a "Sorry you saw someone get shot and die, that must've ruined your evening?" Rose was trying to seem unaffected by what she saw, but all it earned her was more gruesome images flashing through her head. She screamed internally, trying to ward the images off, and almost didn't mind them when she saw that her commentary had given her a full blown half smirk from mister tall dark and handsome.
"Sorry you saw someone get shot and die, that must've ruined your evening. My name is Agent Dimitri Belikov, what's yours?"
His joking manner made Rose relax slightly. "Rose Hatha-"
"Sorry I'm late, I had to deal with a, uh, family issue." A tall, black haired man strode in, his ice blue eyes locked on the phone he was currently texting on at lightning speed. "So what exactly happ-"
"Christian?!" Rose shouted, utterly shocked that her best friend's boyfriend had just entered an FBI building. That, apparently, he was an FBI agent according to the badge that had been carelessly tossed around his neck. "When did this… How did this… What the fuck?!"
He looked up at her, his eyes widening. "Well, shit. This is a problem." He said, his voice completely calm as he stared at her.
"Yeah, it's a problem!" Rose shouted, rising from her chair and stalking over to him. "You've been with Lissa for over two goddamn years and you haven't told me that you're in the FBI?!"His face finally started to show more signs of panic, his cheeks flushing a deep pink. "Oh my God have you even told Lissa?!" Christian's eyes flickered to the floor guiltily. "You haven't even told her?!" Rose placed her chest right up to his and stood on her tiptoes to look him in the eyes. "So help me God, Christian, if you break her heart with this," She gestured wildly, noticing that Adrian and Dimitri had moved closer to their little powwow. "even your precious FBI won't be able to keep you safe." She hissed, and flung off the restraining hand that Adrian had placed on her shoulder.
"Threatening an FBI agent can get you quite a few years in the slammer, sweetheart." Rose stalked away from Christian to the other side of the glass room, glaring out the window and choosing a Crown Victoria to take her anger out on.
"I don't see any of you making a move to arrest me." She turned around and saw that Dimitri now held a manila folder in his hand; one that most likely held anything they wanted to know about her life. He flicked through the papers, his face betraying nothing. She also noticed the car keys that dangled from Adrian's hands and that all of the agents looked ready to go. "We're leaving already? Don't I at least get to change and shower first? I was just starting to get used to the hospitable atmosphere."
"Yeah, we can't stay here no matter how much you like it. And turns out we don't have a shower." Rose was prodded towards the door, Mason and Christian in front of her and Dimitri and Adrian following.
"So bringing in blood-soaked witnesses "happens all the time" and you don't have a shower?"
"So I lied, shoot me. Besides, you can shower at the safe house."
"Safehouse?"
A/N: Just wanted to let you guys know to not expect such quick updates in the future. I just had two free days and was able to write this and like how it turned out without a ton of editing. I would also like reviews on whether or not you think that anyone is OOC? I think that I'm writing everyone pretty well but I like to hear what you guys think. Until next time!
Edit: Also, for anyone who is still clueless as to who Preppy Boy is, if you want a hint, it's a genderbent character if you would still like to guess.
