A/n: I am on a roll! Hope you are all enjoying yourselves. Let's see if our dear Noelle escapes, shall we? Also a fair warning: prepare for feels you did not know you could feel. That is all.

Chapter Four: Freedom and Fletcher Morrison

I ran alongside the building, using the shadows to hide myself. My goal was to make it back to the taxi. I was unsure if the keys had been taken out after Jonathan had pulled in front of the building. My escape would be much faster if I could drive off in the taxi and find some help, help for Jonathan, who was murdered, and the people locked up here. Those people that helped me, I would never forget. Human trafficking was a disgusting and inhumane thing to deal in. How could someone tear down a person's humanity in such a way without feeling any remorse? It was beyond my comprehension why anyone would perform such a heinous crime.

Outside the front of the building was empty. The taxi sat there and I knew if I ran out there, I'd either have to get in the taxi or keep running. Fletcher had not thought to send his men to keep an eye outside the building, something I had not anticipated. It was a relief, though, and I dashed out into the open without looking back. This was the final stretch and I could practically taste sweet freedom on my lips. My mind screamed at me to run harder and I pushed myself forward, wanting nothing more than to get the heck out of dodge.

I was nearly to the taxi when I heard the shouts of men behind me. Their footsteps seemed to thunder behind me and I did not want to waste any time. I opened the passenger side door and climbed in, scooting across to the driver's seat. A wave of relief washed over me at the sight of the keys still in the ignition. I started the car, shifted into drive, and slammed on the gas. The car shot forward and I drove off, praying that Fletcher would not have his men follow.

My heart thundered in my chest as I headed for the busiest road in the area. Panic was still fresh in my mind and I kept glancing in the rearview mirror to see if I was being followed. At last, I came to a busy road and waited to turn and merge. If I could disappear in this traffic, there was no way Fletcher's men could easily follow. As I pulled out into traffic, I slowed down and took a deep breath. Breathe, Noelle. You can breathe now. The car behind me honked and I pushed on the gas, inching forward only to stop a few moments later. Waiting to get moving again was agonizing. I expected something bad to happen, be it someone shooting at me or crashing into me at a high speed. Even though I had taken deep breaths, the trick did not work and I was on edge.

It took me a good twenty-five minutes to find my way back to a part of the city I was familiar with. Now it was a matter of finding a police station. Why I hadn't memorized where I could find one if I ever needed, I did not know. It would have been extremely helpful if I had. At last, I found one, but would have to circle the block to find a parking spot. As I turned past the 9th Precinct station, a black van followed, unbeknownst to me. When I found a parking spot, it was along the street behind the one the station was on. I would have to walk all the way around to get to it and I hated the idea of walking by myself. The sun had set and I wanted nothing more than the entire street to be lit. If I wanted to get help, I would have to brave the barely lit sidewalk to go to the station.

Shutting of the taxi, I glanced through the window to the back to see if my bag was there. It wasn't. Swearing under my breath, I remembered dropping it when Fletcher had grabbed me outside the building. My cell phone, wallet, a text book, and that barely touched muffin were all inside. If Fletcher was smart, he could use any of those things to track me down. Joes Coffee Stop was known for those raspberry vanilla muffins. My phone and wallet were his best bet at finding me. The text book told him I was a student and it wouldn't be hard to monitor the multiple schools within the city. Crap! I really goofed. I felt like an idiot for forgetting about it entirely, but was sure if I had attempted to retrieve it I would have been caught.

I climbed out of the car, bringing the keys with me. After all, this taxi was not mine and the company t belonged to would be wanting it back. Tucking the keys into my jacket pocket, I began my walk to the station. The temperature was starting to drop and the light breeze was only helping it. I moved to wrap my arms around myself, but my dislocated right shoulder screamed in protest. Hissing with the pain the movement brought, I remembered that it was injured. Another thing I would have to get help for. I pressed forward, knowing that I would get help very soon.

The van from earlier had driven past me as I parked and had found another parking spot along the sidewalk I was on. As I passed it, I glanced into the window and felt all the blood drain from my face. Lloyd and Reed, Fletcher's thugs, sat inside talking. Reed, who was in the passenger's seat, looked over and saw me. He was quick to alert Lloyd next to him and they reached for the doors. That is when I broke out into a run. Propelling myself forward, I heard them slam the van's doors but their footsteps didn't follow. They weren't going to follow me? What were they going to... Bang! The last thing I remembered was hitting the hard gritty cold pavement.

…

Fletcher Morrison was a wicked, wicked man. His heart was a block of ice and his head a home to many dark thought. He was a ruthless criminal with no remorse for the dastardly actions he performed. Anyone who crossed his path learned that he was a force to be reckoned with. The ambitions the man had never failed to work in his favor, except for the few times when someone interfered. Even then, the interference only served to delay his devious plans. More often than not, those that got in his way were never seen again. Fletcher was dauntless, independent, and greedy, but what'd you expect from somebody with his terrible past.

He had not always been the cruel and unfeeling man he was today. No, he had been quite the opposite once upon a time. He grew up in a gated community, wanting for nothing. His parents were the head of a publishing company in New York City and gave their son anything he asked for. The boy attended a private school and was as normal as any other in attendance there. He had friends and was quite successful in his studies. His teacher's often spoke about how far they felt he would go in life. How could they have known the disaster that would befall the boy and change his path forever?

His parents lost everything when they put their trust in the wrong employee. Said employee drained the company's accounts and the personal accounts of Fletcher's parents. Not a penny was left behind. The employee escaped the city, leaving everything they owned behind. To this day, authorities haven't found the no good thief that ruined the lives of the small family of three. The investigation of the mass robbery went on for months, but nothing turned up and nothing has since.

In the meantime, Fletcher's family moved in with his mother's parents. They sold everything that they no longer needed from their own house. With little to their name, they couldn't afford to pay for him attend private school. Fletcher was withdrawn from his private school and taken from the friends he made there. Anger and loneliness filled the child when he started at a public school. It was nothing like what he was used to and he despised every aspect of his new school. His peers and teachers had once challenged him, but now there was no challenge to learning. When he asked his parents to return him to his old school, they explained that they couldn't. Fletcher grew bitter towards his parents. They still had their company for the time being and he knew they were making some money. Why they weren't using it to put him back in his school, he did not know.

When the case for them was put aside, his parents did nothing to keep the search going. They let their enormous loss slide of their shoulders and continued to live as if nothing had happened. Their company flourished, yet Fletcher did not see a dime of the money they were making. He blamed his parents for being greedy and demanded that they take him back to the life he loved. The boy, who was now a teen, kept making this same demand until, one day, they did something with the money they had saved. Fletcher was left in the care of his grandparents, while his parents moved away. They had decided to move their company elsewhere and did not want to uproot their son again. To the West Coast they went, not caring to ask what their son wanted.

To spite his family, he ran away. He left the safety of his grandparents' home in the middle of the night, taking what little he had with him. The streets of New York City are known to be dangerous and unforgiving to those on their own. When the good people of the city go to bed, those who are less than reputable come out to play. Fletcher was warned not to go out on his own, but he couldn't care less about the warnings he was given his entire life. Blinded by his anger and feeling of abandonment, he did not care if anything bad happened to him. If he were found, maybe his family would see the fault in their decisions.

Something bad did happen and that is where Fletcher started to become the man he was today. He was walking toward the center of the city when some men grabbed him off the sidewalk. They were strong and did not care for his protests to be let go. Tossed into the back of a moving van parked in an alley, Fletcher banged on the doors they had closed on him. His fists began to hurt and he sank down to his knees, burying his head in his hands as hot tears poured down his cheeks. When a hand was placed on his shoulder, he jumped and looked to see who had done so. It was a little girl in her pajamas, her own face streaked with tears. And behind the girl, there were a handful of other people that had been kidnapped too. The girl introduced herself as Molly and invited Fletcher to sit with the rest of the kidnapped group. He reluctantly accepted and scooted across the floor, Molly following him. She stuck to Fletcher's side until they were separated when their kidnappers moved them from the truck.

Molly screamed and cried, reaching towards the boy she had attached herself to in such little time. The girl flailed in a brutish looking man's arms, hitting her small fists against his back. Fletcher stepped out of the line the kidnappers had put them in and ran at the man holding Molly. He let out an angry cry and started to beat on the man. The man shouted and dropped Molly, the girl hitting her head against the hard concrete. Fletcher was easily restrained by the large man, but it did not keep him from struggling. Molly laid unconscious on the floor, her blood pooling around her head where it had cracked open.

"Let me go! Let me go!" Fletcher shouted, watching helplessly as Molly laid there injured. The man behind him chuckled darkly, only angering the 15 year-old even more. All eyes were on the teen fighting hopelessly to break free. No one else dared to step out of line, wearily eyeing the guards with guns at their hips or in their hands. Fletcher did not know why he was so protective towards the child. They had just met, but he cared for as he had for the close friends he had lost. "You bastard! She's going to bleed out! Help her!"

"Let the boy go, Paul." a man, who looked unlike the others standing around the room, said as he walked over. He was not muscled or menacing. In fact, he was actually quite welcoming. There was also an air of importance about him, like he was the mastermind behind this whole operation. Fletcher would come to know that he was the head of this awful scheme. The man restraining Fletcher let him go and Fletcher went straight to Molly. He lifted her into his arms and cradled her head, trying to rouse her from her unconsciousness. A hand suddenly appeared before the teen's vison and he looked up to see the man that had demanded his release. "Come with me. We can take care of your sister elsewhere."

"She's..." Fletcher glanced back down at Molly. He never had a sibling. His parents were content with only one child, though Fletcher had wished for a brother or sister. Perhaps this man would treat her better if he thought Molly and him were siblings. "Okay." Fletcher lifted the young girl, finding that he could lift her easily.

The kind man led them out of the warehouse and into a well-furnished office. Before he let Fletcher, set Molly down, he laid out a plastic sheet over the loveseat in his office. Fletcher set her down as gentle as possible and quickly found where her head was split open. When he turned around to find the man, he saw him rummaging through a drawer in his desk. Upon noticing the teen watching him, he smiled. "Take a seat somewhere. I'm just finding my first aid kit. I'll stitch her up, alright?"

"Why are you doing this?" Fletcher asked. "Helping me?"

"I like to keep my assets in as good a condition as possible." He paused and made a sound of success, pulling out a small box from the drawer. Taking the first aid kit with him, he joined Fletcher by the couch. Kneeling down next to Molly, he set to work threading a needle to stitch her up. "This may be a disreputable business, but I am not a monster."

"Business?"

"You didn't understand what was going on in there?" the man asked, honestly surprised.

"You kidnapped a bunch of people." Fletcher answered. "Why?"

"I'm a human trafficker, boy. I take people and sell them to anyone that wants some. Doesn't matter to me what they do, as long as I get paid." He had threaded the needle and was now pulling the wound on Molly's head closed. "You must be pretty sheltered if you didn't know what was going on."

Fletcher grunted unhappily. "Sheltered. That's one way of putting it."

"What's your story?" the man asked. Fletcher begrudgingly told his tale, up until the moment he was grabbed by those men. When he finished, the man was cleaning up around Molly's now closed wound. He tossed the bloodied disinfecting cloth into the trash after washing his own hands with it. "That's pretty awful kid. That must mean that she's not your sister then."

"Yes, sir. She just..." Fletcher held her hand, not wanting to let her go. "She liked me for some stupid reason."

"I see. Well, I'll tell ya what." Fletcher looked up at the man in confusion. "Kid, you seem promising. How'd you like to stay with me? You and your friend? I'm sure I can find something the two of you can do around here. You won't be paid much, but who knows." Fletcher thought this over. He did not want to go back to his grandparents' house. They didn't care about him as much as they said they did. This wasn't as far as he wanted to get when running away, but it was unlikely he would be found. "Hell, I'd even consider letting you go if you promised to keep your mouth shut. The downside to that, though, would be you couldn't take the girl with you. She'd probably blab to the first person she found and rat me out. So, what'll it be?"

Fletcher decided to stay and work for the man, not wanting to part with the child he had grown attached to. The man was the head of the business, as Fletcher had guessed. Morrison Bingley was his name and he was like a friend to Fletcher during the time he worked for him. Molly hated it at the warehouse, wanting nothing more than to return home to her parents. She tried so many times to talk Fletcher into taking her home, yet never succeeded. Fletcher cared for the girl, but knew that Morrison trusted him to obey, so obey he did. His obedience was also what earned him good money, something that he desired. His parents had given him very little since their financial crisis. Fletcher was tired of not having anything, so he decided that he would have as much as he could. More money also meant he could take better care of Molly.

For many years, Fletcher learned the trade that Morrison dealt in. Morrison was growing old and knew that he'd need to leave his business in good hands. He had no one else to train but Fletcher and the boy had showed promise from the first day. It wasn't long before Morrison sent Fletcher out on his own to do business. Now a young man, he was a brilliant and ruthless businessman. He could strike a deal with just about anyone without failure. Morrison's protégé was known to everyone on the streets and was feared by people as much as they feared his tutor.

Molly had too had grown and was now a blossoming young woman. She was about the age Fletcher had been when they found themselves under the care of Morrison. Her raven hair was long and cascaded down her back in waves. The innocent brown eyes of her caught anyone and everyone's attention. Fletcher still protected her as he had done when they first met. She had started to slowly come to despise the young man, knowing he would do nothing to return her to her parents. Molly missed her mom and dad, as well as her older siblings. She prayed ever night that they had not stopped looking for her and would find her. Or that she would escape to them.

One day, when Fletcher was out on an errand for Morrison, she decided she was done. If Fletcher wouldn't help her, she would help herself. She held her own room in the large building and had memorized all the routes that led to an exit. This was her chance to get her freedom back and live a normal life. Molly made it farther than she thought she would, but it wasn't far enough. When Fletcher had returned to find her missing, he gathered the help of Morrison's men and tracked her down. They found her wandering in an alley eight blocks away from the building. She was returned to the building and Morrison asked that she be brought to his office. Fletcher had yet to be alerted of her discovery and was still out looking for her.

When at last someone thought to tell him, he came back and planned to give her a good talking to. He went to her room, but she was not there. Fletcher wondered if she was somewhere else in the building and ended up looking all over for her. The young man decided to see if Morrison had her and went to his office. Morrison greeted him as usual and asked how the errand he sent Fletcher on went. Fletcher answered as quick as possible and then asked Morrison if he knew where Molly was.

"Fletch, you are like a son to me." Morrison answered, leaning back in his chair. "Since you came, the business has flourished and I believe it is time for me to move on. I'm getting old and you're no longer in need of a teacher. I've taught you everything I know. I made one last deal and I plan to leave for Europe in the morning." Morrison grinned and laughed to himself. "Fletcher, I want you to take over for me. You're going to be the new head of Morrison Mover's."

"One last deal? You're retiring?" Fletcher repeated to himself. Morrison had skirted his question, but had given him enough information to know what he had done with Molly. Fletcher was upon Morrison in a heartbeat, pummeling the man. "Bastard! You fucking sold her! Who'd you sell her to? Where'd they go?"

"They didn't tell me where they were going, Fletch." Morrison chuckled, blood spilling down his chin from a split lip. Fletcher threw another punch at the man's face. Morrison's head snapped back and he laughed harder. "You didn't care for her that much, did you? All she wanted was to leave and you didn't help her. She wanted out, so I gave her a way out."

"I can't believe you've done this, Morrison." Fletcher seethed, grabbing the neck of Morrison's shirt. He pulled the man up and looked him dead in the eye. "If you don't believe that I cared for her, you are wrong. I can't believe that giving me your position would make it any better. You're a dead man, Morrison."

"You wouldn't." Morrison challenged. "I took you in. You had nowhere else to go."

"I chose to stay because I did not want to go back to a family that didn't care for me. Molly's family is still looking for her. Mine wrote me off for dead." Fletcher's voice shook with every word. He slammed Morrison into the wall and grabbed the pistol from his hip, pressing it against Morrison's temple. "You're not going to Europe, Morrison. You're going to Hell." Fletcher pulled the trigger without remorse, firing a single bullet into Morrison's brain. Returning the pistol to its holster, he took a seat at his new desk and watched the blood drain from Morrison's dying body.

Fletcher took up Morrison's name as his last name, as well as the title 'The Reaper'. Anyone Morrison had been affiliated with felt the wrath of Fletcher. He killed those that heard the name after attempting to get information on where Molly had gone. He was the wealthiest criminal in New York. Nay, the world. The money Morrison was going to take with him to Europe became Fletcher's and he was not going to waste a dime of it. He announced that he had taken Morrison's position and that there was going to be a change of rules. Instead of continuing Morrison's dirty business, he began a search for Molly. Millions of dollars went into the search that went on for three years. Fletcher sent men all over the world in search of his dear friend.

Three years is what it took to find her, but it was not what Fletcher had wished for. One of Fletcher's men had found her in some small country in India. His man returned with Molly in tow and Fletcher was relieved to see his friend. However, he was not relieved to find that she was dying. Molly had contracted a serious illness in India and, with no medical attention, she was on a one way track to death. Fletcher wasted no time in getting her to a hospital and, more importantly, finding her family. He joined her family at the hospital, explaining how they met. Fletcher did not reveal that he had taken part in the business they fell prey to together. Instead, he talked how he had stolen money from the head of the human trafficking ring to track her down.

Molly, exhausted and weak, enjoyed the company of her long lost family while she could. She did not bring up the criminal activity she knew Fletcher was a part of, but spoke of how he had protected her. Fletcher had not known this kindness, but wished he had more of it. When Molly's family left for the night, Fletcher pulled his chair over to her bedside to hold her hand. He started to apologize, only to have her shush him. She forgave him and asked for him to do one last thing for her, as a dying wish. Fletcher laughed, telling her that she wasn't going to die. He had found her and she was getting the treatment she needed. Molly shook her head and asked again, telling Fletcher not to argue. She asked Fletcher to find his own family and go back to a normal life. This angered Fletcher and he became silent, knowing getting upset would only make things worse. He thought it over and was about to tell Molly his decision when she flat lined.

The hospital staff were unable to resuscitate Fletcher's only friend. She died in front of him and he was powerless to stop it. He left immediately after the doctor gave him the news. Fletcher fled back to the warehouse where everything had begun. He had wanted to go back to his family, but to have Molly go with him. That was the only way he would return to his family. With her gone, there was no chance of it happening and so he picked up where he had left off three years ago. He was the head of Morrison Mover's and the wealthiest criminal in the world. That was the only thing that kept the man going. His pain was drowned in money and sin, never letting anyone get as close to him as Molly had been.

Fletcher found himself sitting at his desk after Noelle the barista had escaped, thinking of Molly. They would have been about the same age and, besides the color of their hair, they looked exactly alike. Fletcher drummed his fingers against his desk, knowing he would have to kill her if she had spread the word. He had flipped through Noelle's forgotten belongings. Molly had wanted to be a doctor and he had turned a couple pages of the medical textbook belonging to Noelle, thinking of that. Fletcher did not understand why fate had brought the look-alike into his life. He did not understand why he craved her either. Molly had been too young for him, too innocent. He had never once thought of claiming her as his own, but Noelle was an entirely different story. Fletcher could have any woman he wanted, but he found himself wishing for Noelle as he sat there in his office.

"Uh, boss." Lloyd said, gaining his attention. Fletcher looked up, expecting good news. "We took care of the girl."

"Where is she?" Fletcher demanded to know.

"Dead, sir." Lloyd did not have time to explain before he laid in the same spot Jonathan Burn had been, dead as well.

A/n: How were the feels, my dear readers? I did not know I could be so brutal with a tragic backstory until now. I hate it and love it at the same time. Let me know what you thought of Fletcher's backstory. Until next chapter, my lovelies!