Sequence II

Man Research

25th December (Christmas Day), 2007

6:12 PM

"Christmas Day. Do I regret that I can't spend it with a family? Well, if what I'm doing will end up saving the world – then no, of course not. All's well that ends well is what my father used to tell me. Of course there are times when I wish I could change, or erase the past. Times I wish I could forget. But then I wonder why I'm complaining. I'm only nineteen years old and my work could end up saving the world. I have my whole life ahead of me to make mistakes in, so why regret what has already happened. We can't change our past, only embrace it. Our past shapes who we are and what we become. Besides, I have no time to reminisce.

Today, Murdoc offered me some egg nog in the morning, but I didn't drink it until later. All I seem to be doing is work and I'm not getting anywhere. The team isn't much help either. Murdoc is usually too drunk to interrogate, 2D is too damn stupid, Russel is eating or sleeping and has no time for talk and Noodle just doesn't say anything or I can't bloody find her. I'm sure they are keeping something from me. They can't keep this façade up – I will get the information out of them. I promised Bill that much when I left."

I'd considered moving my journal entries to the computer I was borrowing from the team, but that was even more unsafe than keeping them written in a book. Plus, I always kept it on my person, so it was unlikely that they would be getting their hands on it anytime soon. I turned around from my chair just in time as I heard the door creaking across the room behind me.

"Ah, Noodle." I said, tracking her movements as she shut the door behind her. "Can I help you with anything?" I asked her politely, while pushing my journal off the desk and against my back, then I leaned against the back of the chair hiding it from her view.

"What's that?" She replied, pointing straight at me. I swallowed deeply, but situations like this were what I was trained for, but it wasn't like I didn't have to completely hide it from her. She was my teammate, I could at least tell her what it was.

I smiled, then answered; "It's a journal. I only use it to keep track of my movements." I took the book out from behind my back, being careful to shut it, then held it up, but not out.

"Can't you do that yourself?" She asked me instantaneously, moving away from the door to the book shelf that was kept in the room. I felt a little uneasy that she was asking me so many questions, but it was the most she had said to me since arriving, so I dismissed the thought of nervousness and concentrated on talking to her. Maybe I'd been looking at it all wrong; maybe I had to wait for her to come to me before I started asking questions.

"Well, yes. But that's not the point. It's for my supervisor really." I watched as she lifted her hand to brush it against the spines of the book with a delicate interest I'd never seen anyone inhabit before.

"What's that?" She continued to ask questions, not even turning to look at me. I sighed under my breath, but didn't deny that it was nice to talk to her – it felt… Calming, almost.

"My supervisor? He's just a guy who watches me – he's supposed to be responsible for me. But everyone is responsible for themselves in my eyes, live with your own mistakes kinda thing." Noodle had stopped and turned to stare at me by the time I'd finished, I caught her gaze with mine and smirked slightly. She ignored it and went back to scanning over the books.

"You can't watch yourself?" She expressed eventually and it made me slightly disheartened to think that she thought of me like that, so I was quick to correct her.

"Of course I can!" I answered sharply, to which she stopped her movements for a slight second, then continued. "The journal is just something I have to do… We all have to do…" I explained softly, my voice trailing away at the last sentence. If she was one of us, why wouldn't she know what my journal was for? Surely she would have had to write them herself…

She simply nodded in reply and slid a book out from the shelf, then, as she was walking towards the door, she stopped for a moment and looked at me.

"I used to write a journal, when we were on tour…" I smiled, her words soothing any doubt I had. Of course she would have, all Assassins were punished if they didn't write log journals while touring to their next destination. I took the silence to read the title of the book in her arms.

"The Art of War?" My eyes narrowed to her, I was surprised that she was interested in a dusty old book some dying General had written. "I wouldn't have thought it was your style." I expressed my opinion openly, and then received an icy stare from her.

"Don't judge people by the things they read." She said, as if she was insulting me, or disciplining me. Then she turned back towards the door and I had to dive across the bed to hold it shut.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." I apologized softly, I didn't want this conversation to end – I had come so far and didn't want it to be a waste of time when I could be interrogating someone else. She had been looking down, but turned her head up to face me when I had touched the door.

"How did you mean it then?" She said, taking me completely by surprised. She dropped the book on the floor and stepped straight into me – I had to step backwards sharply to avoid touching her, I was sure that she would have hit me with the book if I did. She continued walking and I eventually fell back onto the bed as there was no more room to stand and she stood over me with a vicious look in her eyes (I could see them now that she was stood above me, her hair usually covered them).

"Well… I…" I stuttered incomprehensive sounds after that, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. Luckily (or unluckily) she hadn't taken me seriously since she walked through the door and just laughed coldly at my stutters. It was insanely adorable, and I found myself purposefully trying to find faults in her consciously so I didn't have to admit that I found her attractive.

I was an Assassin. Right now, I didn't have time to be fooling around.

After this, she leaned forward over me with her mouth an inch from mine, her hand over mine, her eyes locked against mine. "Don't fuck with me, or my friends. You'll regret that." Then, she just smiled, stood, picked up the book from the floor, and left.

I felt crushed, and hated her for that. Plus it didn't help that I could still smell her, even though she had gone. A gentle, sweetly floral scent. I'm not sure whether it was her perfume or her, which was making my mind race.

Shaking her from my mind, I turned back to my journal and replaced in onto the desk, picking up my pencil.