Disclaimer: CoD does not belong to me, and neither do the main characters of which I'm writing about. One specific section of this story with the words "gift of confidence" is also not mine, because I was inspired by one awesome author, David Nicholls. I didn't put in the whole quote because it doesn't fit, but that was a big inspiration this time 'round.

A/N: Well, it hasn't been that long since I last updated... less than a month! Hahaha. Don't expect this too often though. :D Anyway, thank YOU again, so much, for your awesome reviews. They never fail to make me smile. I'm really glad you guys are enjoying the story so far, and I hope you don't mind me dragging it out. More reviews are always appreciated and thanks for reading!


THREE

Effervescence

And if it all goes crashing into the sea
If it's just you and me trying to find the light
Like ships in the night

She felt like she was falling. How could this happen? How could everything be taken away from her just when she felt she was rebuilding her life once again? How many times would she have to keep fighting to sustain her mental security and peace of mind? Was this going to be a never-ending prospect for her because of the choices she made – to become an FBI agent, get involved with psychotic criminals, leaving the comfort of a normal (or at least as normal as she could get, being the daughter of Raj Mansingh) life? When was she going to feel okay again? Never? Would she ever find someone whom she could trust to be with anymore? Did she even really fully trust people these days? Was she going crazy, for real?

She is always trying to get to me, isn't she – well, she can keep trying in the meantime, but I will lock her behind bars and she will not have the last word… I will. She will never get to me.

Mal.

I need to tell Mal.

I have to go back to Washington.

Somewhere, somehow, this black hole in her life seemed gigantic, almost enormous. If not for the fact that she was so occupied with figuring out the minds of perhaps-innocent-or-guilty suspects who stepped their foot into the cold imprisonment of the interrogation room, or finding the correlation between victims who endured physical torture and grotesque violence of a very disturbing level, she would perhaps be admitted into a mental hospital herself. She conceded the fact that although many would praise her intellect and observational skills, she was the one who doubted herself the most, particularly during the times when she was alone.

She realised long time ago that she needed someone in her life, who could not only understand her but know her beyond what she probably knew of herself, and for once was able to actually convince her that she was someone worthwhile, in a different perspective.

Because she could do all she could, steeling herself in front of reckless, cruel-minded citizens, and even in front of her bosses and work colleagues in the law enforcement – even in front of people she cared for and loved, but when she had no one around her, the confidence that embodied her seemed to shatter like a thousand pieces.

It was as though her personal life was actually in such a huge mess that she did not know how to repair everything that had been damaged. In fact, this was the reality of her life – the side that no one saw.

She knew that if there could be someone who gave her the confidence in such a way that it would not be her own, but the confidence of someone else's… and that confidence would in fact sustain her, change the way she saw herself… then he would, really, be the one for her.

Her past relationships had done nothing of that sort – Shawn Mallory was amazing for quite some time, but she realised at the end of the day that he loved her more than she loved him. And that realisation shocked her so much that she knew she could never go back as close as she was with him before. Oscar Santos was amazing, too. But she had barely begun with him. She actually didn't even know why she was drawn to him in the first place – not fully, anyway. And again, he was far more taken with her before any romantic thought of him even crossed her mind.

If there could ever be a situation whereby she would love a man first, even for this one quality, before he loved her; she was sure that she would have finally found him.

She picked up her phone after staring straight into space for a good fifteen minutes, thinking more than necessary, as usual.

She was about to bolt out the door and drive direct to the precinct when the headache from last night's aftermath came pounding. She held the door, grinded her teeth and turned back inside, slamming the front door of her apartment shut.

Walking slowly into the kitchen while pressing her fingers against her temple, she opened her medicine cabinet and looked for aspirin. She was never one to resort to medication with the exception of dire circumstances, but this was a dire circumstance to her. She wanted to talk to Mal and tell him what Chief Blaire had told her. And she had to leave tomorrow – her flight was at 7PM sharp. It gave her just enough time to recover, pack as much as she could, inform the SFPD, and then leave. It didn't give her enough time to talk to Mal properly.

And Oscar – oh gosh. Oscar. I have to talk to him too. Especially after what happened last night. I need to get this done.

The pain of the headache seared through her head and she realised she would have to lie down and rest, even for a short while. It wasn't too late – it was just about 8:34PM. She could sleep for an hour and still head down to the station. She was sure Mal would still be there.

And so she lay her head down on the couch in her living room, and let herself curl up with the small pillows. Within minutes, she fell asleep, tired and still exhausted from everything that had been happening within the week.

There was a cold, dark cellar. Blackness was everywhere, the pensive, eerie feel of it all. There was no way of escape. Just dirt and four walls. Inside it sat a girl, with fiery reddish-orange hair. It was tied back in a ponytail, and she had fair skin. The girl looked like she was innocent and lost, almost as though she was a victim… but when she looked up, her eyes were empty, emotionless. She had no capacity for conscience. There was no hint of beauty at all.

Her mouth curved up into an evil smirk. Shockingly, the voice that came out of her mouth was not that of a young girl's, but that of an old woman.

"You will give in… sooner or later."

The image dissolved and, as though a slideshow was playing, another image crafted itself.

A boy was dancing around the living room, impatient. It was Christmas morning. A small Christmas tree with minimal decorations sat at the corner of the room. Below it was just one present, wrapped in red and green, with little Christmas trees all over its design. The box was rectangular, and there was no name on it, but the boy seemed to know that it was for him. A man sat on the couch beside the tree, and his face was somehow obscured, but clearly he was the father of this boy. He reached down to the tree and handed the present to his elated little boy. The boy hugged the man, and then sat down on the floor and began unwrapping the package – eagerly tearing paper away until he saw that it was what he wanted – a police car.

He laughed happily and took the toy out.

"Thank you, Dad!"

Again this image faded into the distance and the third image surfaced.

There was a giant, surreal field. Green grass and tall pine trees were in the distance, and stretched as far as you could see. Beautiful blue skies were ahead, and the weather was warm and sunny. Then, bursting out of the trees came a teenage girl, mounted on a majestic white horse. The teen had brown, straight hair and it was blowing along with the wind under her polo cap. She wore an equestrian outfit, complete with dark-coloured boots, peanut-coloured tights, crisp white shirt and black blazer. She skilfully rode her horse and it galloped with speed across the wide field. They kept going and the horse seemed to go faster as they reached a cliff. The girl riding her horse tried pulling on the reins, prompting it to stop, but for some odd reason, there were no reins. She was powerless to stop it, and before she knew it, her horse leapt straight down into the abyss below.

As she streaked through the air, she attempted to scream.

"H-h-help me! HELP ME!"

The sound was deafening, and the girl kept falling and falling and falling, in what seemed like forever…

Until she was caught in a man's arms.

Except when she fell into this brave, muscular man's arms, the girl wasn't a teenage girl anymore; she was a woman. She was a grown lady. Her brown eyes fluttered open and she tried to see the face of her prince, her hero – but the bright sun blocked her vision and she could not see who this man was.

His arms were strong and protective; he cradled her in his arms and gently let her down so she could stand, but still she could not see who he was. He had a respectably impressive build, not bulky but manly, and she noticed that he had somewhat a bit of stubble on his chin. He wore a suit, a dark greyish jacket and matching trousers. Inside it he wore a blue shirt with a black tie.

Suddenly she realised she had been speechless and not thanked him for saving her at all.

"Thank you… Thank you for saving me."

The man chuckled and smiled. "You're most welcome. Anytime," he said easily. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. But I feel like I just got hit on the head. I can't seem to see anything properly. I think I need water… I…"

"Hey, easy, easy…" the man reached out to grab hold of the lady's arm to steady her. "Don't worry. Here, let's sit down and wait, okay? The ambulance is coming to take you to the hospital."

"No! No, I don't want to go to the hospital! I just… I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?"

"I don't even know what I'm doing. I mean, you're a stranger, and I'm just talking like craz-"

"I'm not a stranger, and you're not talking like crazy. Just tell me. You know you can tell me anything."

"You're not?"

"No, I'm not."

"Okay. I think I've lost all my capacity to run ahead and fight. I feel I can't take much more."

The man was silent and waited for the woman to continue speaking, but she didn't. She just buried her face in her hands.

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"Well, here's what I have to say – you can do it. You're the strongest woman I know, honestly. Come to think of it, I don't know a lot of what you're facing deep down because you don't tell me, but if I can pull through, so can you."

She turned to look at him, and still she could not see his face. He seemed so familiar, so memorable… and she felt so comfortable around him.

"You have no idea how many times I feel incapable."

"You? Feel incapable? You mean you're not confident?"

"No. Not at all sometimes."

The man stopped to think before he continued, then he said, "Well, if it's confidence you need, then if anything, I would give you the gift of confidence."

"How? Why?"

"Because, you gave me the confidence to carry on and believe for the best."

Again it struck her and she turned to look, but in a flash he was gone, and everything faded to black.

Natara stirred in her position on the couch and slowly sat up, and realisation dawned upon her that she had fallen asleep for a long time – longer than she had planned.

She sat up straight on the couch and looked at her mobile phone for the time – 3:09AM. No, this was not good. She had slept for almost seven hours, and although the throbbing in her head was now gone, she still felt like she had wasted too much precious time.

She quickly went to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. After washing her face, she went to the small kitchen in her apartment and poured herself a large glass of water. She swallowed, then drank two more glasses before she felt fully awake. Remembering her need to talk to Mal about the urgent news, she took out her mobile phone and messaged him.

After two minutes, she received a reply from him.

Mal: What's up? Is everything okay? Can talk now.

Natara contemplated calling him and telling him over the phone, but she knew she could not explain everything to Mal properly over a telephone connection. She had to tell him everything in person. She hit reply.

Natara: Are you still at the station?

The moment she saw the word 'yes', she took her keys, locked her apartment and drove down to the station. She never liked driving out so late. Who did? But in about 16 hours, she was supposed to leave San Francisco. And she needed Mal's help before she left. Because if she didn't use the remaining time she had left in this city with wisdom, she could possibly never stop the cruelty from continuing. And worst of all, she may never see Mal again.

And, as though there was a jolt of electricity that went through her body, the truth was there, staring at her straight in the face – that possibility scared her more than anything else.