Private Eyes – Chapter 12

His first thought was of her. He wracked his brain, searching for a hint or clue that would explain how she'd even know of this place. He thought he'd done a good job, paying for it off books, never mentioning it to anyone. It wasn't even under his name. But somehow… she must have found a connection. She was sneaky like that. Once, long ago, he'd admired her cleverness, especially with how she put those talents to use under the sheets. But now he loathed them.

Hell hath no fury, he thought, briefly thinking back to the time after a botched assignment in Morocco. Their 'arrangement'—for the lack of a better word—had become a major distraction, almost getting them killed and nearly derailing a two year long operation. York had been furious, forced finally call them out on it, after having spent so long turning a blind eye to their off-the-clock 'recreation'. It was then that they had mutually decided to end things.

It was supposed to be over.

At least that's what he'd thought at the time.

But even after one side of their relationship had been terminated, another lived on. They still had to work together after all. It was difficult at first, having spent so long 'together', but they both managed, and in the end, thanks to their extremely productive teamwork, the mission had been salvaged. Afterwards, they had parted on amicable terms.

Or so he thought.

Admittedly, he was a little surprised at this recent move. It wasn't like her. She didn't operate like this. It wasn't her style. She much preferred the slower seduction, like a spider drawing her prey into her web as she lured them in for the kill. He wasn't taking any chances when it came to her. She'd almost done it to him… more than once.

"Stay behind me," Castle instructed in a soft, yet firm voice as he slowly approached the edge of the cinderblock wall. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Beckett open her mouth to protest, but then upon seeing his expression, stayed silent, for which he was grateful. He didn't want to get into an argument. It wasn't like he was trying to be a chauvinist or sexist by insisting she to stay behind him. He knew Kate Beckett could take care of herself.

But this was different. The stakes were higher… even more than his daughter's life was at stake. In the wrong hands Spyglass had the potential to topple nations. And with such high stakes, it would be stupid to take too many risks. He'd already taken some risks, trusting Kate Beckett for one, but those had been necessary risks. Charging into the storage facility was not. They were entering the unknown, and it was better to be safe than sorry. Better that only one of them risk getting hit from a hidden gunman than both.

He flicked his eyes up to hers and she gave a nod of understanding. Castle paused, momentarily taken aback by the undeniable connection they shared. It was like they were on the same wavelength. He was stunned by the complete and utter trust that washed over him, not just in the person, but in her abilities as well. It had been a long while since he had felt he could trust the person who had his back. Not since Istanbul, when his last partner tried to kill him. So many things had gone wrong that day. Things ended so badly that York had almost pulled the plug on the whole operation. It had only been through his own sheer force of will, and a timely nighttime rescue by U.S. Special Forces, that Castle had even survived the harrowing Kilmer's betrayal.

Shaking his head, he willed the memories away. Now was not the time to dwell on the troubled past. The current situation was too worrisome to be stuck pondering over how things had gone down with his last partner. Castle took one more moment to look at Beckett, taking in her fierce beauty and determination. He remembered being surprised when he'd discovered she was a homicide detective. In his experience, most women like her usually became doctors or lawyers. But not her. She was a mystery… one he'd enjoy unraveling, but later.

It was rather remarkable that she was still there with him. After everything he told her last night, she could have easily just cut and run. But she hadn't. She had believed him, probably going against her better judgment. And now she was right there with him, unwavering in her support, and that… that amazed him.

She met his gaze with an unyielding resolve and solid perseverance that amazed. There was something… extraordinary about this woman that he'd never encountered before. He was impressed with Beckett's ability to compartmentalize. Castle had always struggled with his emotions, which was part the reason he couldn't stand by and watch Alexis co-opted into working for the bad guys. She was still young, and had a promising life ahead of her. He wasn't going to let them take that away from her.

"I'm ready," Beckett said with a nod, in a quiet voice so that only he could hear.

Returning her nod, Castle brought his Sig Sauer up into position, and, without any further delay, slipped around the edge of the cinderblock wall, quickly scanning the open area in front of the manager's office. Just as before, the only things readily visible were the two black Escalades, parked off to the side of the square-shaped office. He narrowed his eyes. Now that he got a better look at the Escalades, Castle was beginning to second-guess his original theory.

These weren't your garden variety SUVs; they were high end, top dollar vehicles that the budget coordinators back at Langley wouldn't sign off on. And he knew for a fact that York, as a result of some pressure from the Director's office, was currently working at tightening the belt. Many senior operatives were being asked to accept lesser paying desk jobs or were being forced into an early retirement. When he'd been assigned to Operation Mockingbird, Castle had initially wonder when his time would come. After all, he was in his mid-forties, and he'd been a field operative since his early twenties.

It was only a matter of time.

But that was a worry for another time. And considering his current 'rogue' status with the Agency, he wasn't certain he would even have a job when the dust settled. So, he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the two very big, very black Escalades, which he doubted were CIA or government issued. It meant she was going outside the Agency to deal with him… with the problem he'd created for her.

Castle glanced around, taking in the whole scene. The storage facility was like a ghost town. That, in and of itself, had set off the alarm bells in his head even before he'd spotted the two SUVs. As he cautiously approached the block-shaped front office, Castle glanced around with a trained eye for observation and tactical analysis.

He didn't like this. It was too quiet. The blinds were drawn shut, and it was impossible to tell whether or not someone was waiting inside. Castle was beginning to suspect that he wouldn't be dealing with the same fresh faced, raw recruits he had easily dispatched in front of Beckett's apartment.

No.

Everything about this setup screamed of experience. If it were him, he'd send in a group of highly skilled private contractors who specialized in being discreet.

With his free hand, he signaled Beckett, and she reacted without further prompting, just as he knew she would. She flanked off to his right, Glock raised and at the ready. The image was so breathtaking. For the first time in a long, long time, his mind began to conjure up ideas for a story. He squinted, retraining his focus, but logging in those ideas away for later peruse.

They moved as one, in sync without ever training together. The concept alone was unfathomable, yet there it was, happening right in front of him. Beckett was fluid in her movements, matching him step for step. It was almost like they'd spent an hour before their entrance plotting out their advance. Castle let the feeling cascade over him, allowing himself to accept that his trust in her, despite the short time they'd spent together, was unfaltering and absolute. He suppressed a grin as they crept forward, bold yet cautious. An oxymoron if ever there was one.

Beckett held back as he proceeded her, reaching the office door. He glanced over at her, checking her position. She nodded, ready. Castle shifted into a better defensive posture, and grabbed the handle, turning it with a twist and kicking the door open. He swooped in, Beckett on his six. Florescent lights hummed above them as they crossed the threshold. Beige chairs lined one side of the wall across from a reception counter. There were no customers waiting, and no one manning the desk. Castle exchanged a curious look with Beckett before they mutually decided to split up and search the rest of the small building.

Castle went off to the right, while Beckett took the left. The manager's office was empty, saved for a potted ficus that had seen better days. Hanging on the wall behind the desk was a portrait of the Brooklyn Bridge from nearly the same angle as seen from outside. He looked over the desktop, seeing nothing of interest. Beckett covered the other two rooms; a poorly filed records room and a restroom… both were empty.

"All clear," Beckett confirmed, in cop mode, as she met him back by the reception counter.

"Same," he frowned, scratching the side of his head, not liking this. "Odd. At the very least there should be some evidence that people had been here. The place opened less than an hour ago. But there's nothing."

She nodded. "Not even a lukewarm cup of coffee on the desk."

Castle carded through his fingers as he looked around the empty reception room. That uneasy feeling only twisted more in his gut. He didn't like this. Beckett strolled around the counter, and began searching through the documents left on the desk. Castle watched her, waiting.

"Anything?"

"Nothing," she shook her head. "Just a bunch of blank purchase forms." She sighed and rubbed a hand down her face. "Maybe we're just being paranoid. I mean, two black Escalades don't necessarily mean there's a hit squad out for us."

"True," Castle concurred, flashing her a quick smile, going for reassuring, as he slipped his Sig back inside his jacket. "I should know. I used to be one of them. When we were on an op, we always drove something that could blend in. And those two Escalades stand out."

Beckett inclined her head. "Sounds logical, but still… with what we're up against, I think a little dose of paranoia isn't such a bad thing."

Castle cracked a grin. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

She smiled back, ducking her head bashfully as her cheeks blossomed a rosy pink that looked good on her. Even standing under those unflattering bright florescent lights in a drab and boring office, she was still breathtakingly stunning. Not for the first time, Castle was struck with the insane series of events that had brought them together. When he'd made the decision to get Alexis out of the CIA black site, Castle would never had expected that it would lead him straight to someone with whom he'd share such a unique connection.

He hadn't been lying when he'd told her that the feeling was mutual. How could it not be? Beside the obvious physical beauty she possessed, there was another quality about Kate Beckett that he was drawn to. It was a quiet, subtle part that he yearned to explore. There was more to her than met the surface. She had a fierce intellect and cunning mind. And she was a lot stronger than her delicate model-like features would suggest. He could spend a lifetime getting to know her and never grow bored.

Clearing his throat, and forcing such thoughts aside, at least for now, Castle jerked his head back towards the front door. "We should get going. I don't think we'll learn anything more here. Might as well get what we came for."

"Which is?" Beckett inquired as she walked back around the counter to join him.

He arched his neck to look at her and raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Supplies."

XXX

The occasional phone rung, and was subsequently answered. Murmuring voices added to the dull drone of the bullpen as detectives and uniforms alike conversed over case details. The sun was out today and was streaming through the windows, giving the squad room a nice bright feel that was usually lacking. But it was still a numbing drag of a day. And the coffee still tasted like a monkey peed in battery acid.

Ryan grimaced at the mug in his hand before shoving it away. He didn't care what Esposito said; he would never grow to tolerate that sludge. But, alas, it was all they had. He sighed, wondering if it was just some unwritten rule that all cop's had to drink awful office coffee. Really, those mechanical coffee dispensers produced a higher quality than the budget-approved grounds they brewed each and every day. On reflection, he supposed that was why Beckett always stopped by a coffee shop on the way into work.

"Hey," Ryan spun around in his chair so that he could face his partner, the mug of lukewarm coffee sitting forgotten on his desk. "What do you think is up with Beckett?"

"Huh?" Esposito looked up from the thick stack of files he was reviewing, letting out a grunt of a reply. "Don't know."

"Aren't you, I don't know… just a bit, curious?" Ryan pressed, sliding his chair across the small gap between their desks.

Slamming the file shut, Esposito glared up at him with an exasperated expression. "Damn it, of course I'm curious," he all but growled. "She's acting all… weird and secretive, even for her. She's vague in her answers and didn't seem all too concerned that the FBI consider her a person of interest in something that has to do with 'national security'."

"Yeah," Ryan bobbed his head, grinning slightly at the disgruntled look on his partner's face. "And then there's this mystery man." He blinked, and then on second thought, he pushed his chair back over to his desk, before rolling it back to drop the portrait the department sketch artist, after sitting down with Mr. Hostetler, had made of the Beckett's mystery companion.

"Who's this?" Esposito asked, picking up the paper and staring down at the sketch with the same fierceness he usually reserved for suspects.

"The mystery guy that Beckett's with," Ryan repeated. "He's handsome, I guess… in a rugged way. At least, that's what Jenny would say. I can see why Beckett would be—" He trailed off when he noticed his partner was looking at him with a sprinkling of mirth in his eyes. "Alright… so just for the hoot of it…"

"For the hoot of it?" parroted Esposito with an amused expression. "Damn, dude, Jenny's really got you housed trained. So whipped!" He made a cracking noise and flicked his wrist in a pantomime of striking the air with a whip.

Ryan knitted his eyebrows together, but ignored his partner's teasing. "Anyways…," he went on. "I pulled in some favors with a buddy in the Justice Department, and had him run it through the Federal facial rec database."

"And?"

"Nothing," Ryan sighed. "Zilch, zip, nada… diddly-squat. Not a thing." Esposito raised his eyebrow at him, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Ryan shut up, and leaned back in his chair, flashing him a brief look of apology before continuing. "Hey, perhaps it's not nothing. The fact the guy's face doesn't appear at all in the Federal database has got to say something."

"Like what?" huffed Esposito, clearly beyond tolerance.

Ryan shrugged, as casually as he could. "I don't know… maybe he's a spy?"

Esposito's brow creased as he mulled that over. He looked off into the distance, deep in thought. His eyes flicked back to Ryan as he bobbed his head in agreement. "Maybe you're on to something," he said. "I mean, that would explain Beckett's vague replies and her irregular behavior."

"Going solo, I wouldn't call that atypical behavior for Kate Beckett," Ryan interjected.

"I know," grounded out Esposito, giving him a pointed look. "But even still, she's usually more blunt about not needing help. I'm telling you… she was down right polite."
"Now that's odd behavior," Ryan inclined his head. "You think she's in over her head?"
"Oh, without a doubt," he replied. "But she can handle herself. Beckett's badass. And if she needs help, she knows who to call."

Ryan raised an eyebrow in question. "Who?"

"Us, you numbskull," Esposito shook his head in disbelief. He rolled his eyes and was about to tease him more when the door to the Captain's office swung open and Iron Gates herself made a terrifying appearance.

"Detectives Esposito and Ryan," she growled, clearly very upset. "My office. Now! You two have a lot of explaining to do."

Ryan shared a look with Esposito, and he knew his partner was thinking the same thing. Those favors he'd called in to help identify Beckett's mystery man had raised some red flags with some higher-up. Whatever it was she and her mystery man were involved in… it was big. As Ryan stood up and followed Esposito into the captain's office, head hung like a schoolboy being called into the principle's office, he couldn't help but wonder if Beckett truly understood what she was mixed up in. Because he sure as hell didn't.

XXX

She followed him down the row of storage units, keeping her eyes peeled. Kate firmly believed that a healthy dose of paranoia was a good thing, just as long as you didn't let it consume you. She'd made that mistake, and the bullet wound in the center of her chest was a testament to that obsession. It was not a mistake she intended on repeating. And now that she was fully invested in helping Castle protect his daughter, Kate wasn't taking any chances.

Castle stopped in front of a storage unit with the number 47 stenciled in black across the center of the bright neon orange rolling door. She watched as he retrieved a key from his pocket and bent down to unlock the padlock at the base of the door. Kate pursed her lips, not to subtly appreciating the way his jeans hugged his backside. Her brow furrowed and she shook her head, trying to stay on focus. Now was no the time to get distracted by the attractive portions of her companion.

Thankfully unaware of her ogling, Castle stood up, pulling the door with him. It rattled noisily as it rolled up. Beckett blinked, pulling her eyes away from his deliciously shaped ass and up to the dark interior of the storage unit. Castle stepped inside and flicked a switch, turning on the overhead florescent light.

The small space was set up like a storm shelter, along with a sleepy cot, a hand cranked lamp and radio sitting beside it on top of a footstool. One side was lined with stacks of utilitarian gray plastic slap-lid boxes. Each was labeled with a white sticker in crisp, clear handwriting. Several packages of water bottles were stacked in the corner, along with a black lockbox. There was a metal cabinet sealed with a padlock. Kate had her suspicions as to what it held. Castle walked right past it all, going straight for the lockbox.

He dropped down to one knee and quickly punched in the code. A metallic click sounded as the bolts freed, unlocking the latch. Castle opened it up and reached inside, puling out large stacks of cash. Kate watched with interest, trying to count the amount. He placed them on the cot, eyeing each before going for more. When he'd pulled out the amount he deemed appropriate, he shut the lockbox and shoved the bundles of cash into a small black duffel he'd pulled out from underneath the cot.

"We really need that much cash?" she asked, raising her eyebrows in question

He bobbed his head. "We can't risk using a credit card or visiting an ATM," he asserted. He gestured towards the locked metal cabinet on the other side of the room. "Seven-Four-Two-Nine."

"Huh?"

"The combination for the lock," he elaborated. "Here," he tossed her another empty duffel. "Grab us some ammo."

"Okay," Kate caught the duffel and stepped around the cot. She came to a halt when she caught sight of a large stack of spiral binders shelved in a bookcase beside the metal cabinet. Her eyebrows knitted together as she ran her fingers along the binding. About twelve of them were labeled with the name 'Derrick Storm' followed by a number, as if they were part of a series. "What are these?"

Castle glanced up and frowned. "Huh? Oh… those. After my first mission, some Langley therapist suggested it would be cathartic to write things out. So I did, just not in the manner in which he'd envisioned," he pursed his lips in a tiny smile. "I told you I wanted to write. So… I did."

Kate smiled. "There's like… more than twenty books here. Did you ever try and get them published?"

"I'm a spy, Kate," he reminded her with a self-deprecating chuckle. "Technically I died after college. Very well couldn't be writing books while I was dead, now could I?"

"Can I read one?" she asked.

Castle stared at her for a long moment. She could tell he was hesitant. He swallowed, and she watched his throat bob as he did so. "Sure… why the hell not."

"Thanks!" she beamed, grabbing the manuscript labeled Derrick Storm #1. She moved to slip it into the duffel he'd given her, when she paused, noticing the cover page. Underneath the title was the name R.A. Rodgers.

Kate suppressed a gasp of disbelief. She glanced back at Castle, who was oblivious to her surprise, still counting out cash from the lockbox, and then back at the cover page. No. It couldn't be. That would just be too… unreal. But, she couldn't deny what was staring back at her in crisp black Times New Roman font. Oh my God, Kate thought, this is incredible. She fought the urge to fangirl.

R.A. Rodgers was one of her favorite mystery authors. His books had helped her battle through the tragedy of her mother's death. In them she found the closure that she'd never found in real life. The good guys always won, and that had been something she'd needed back then. He'd only ever written two books, both of which she had reread many times. Kate had always wondered why R.A. Rodgers had never written another book. Arching her neck to look back at Castle, she supposed she now knew that answer to that question.

Deciding to keep silent on her revelation—if Castle wanted to tell her, then he would—Kate slipped the manuscript into the duffel bag and then turned to the metal cabinet. She grabbed the lock, but paused. Her mind went blank. Shit. She had been distracted by her discovery of R.A. Rodgers' true identity that she'd forgotten the combination for the lock. She shifted her weight on her feet, slightly embarrassed.

"Um, Castle… what was that combination again?"

Castle was too busy counting the bills to notice her embarrassment. "Seven-Four-Two-Nine."

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, nodding her head, remembering it now that he'd said it again. She reached for the lock and quickly entered the combination, smiling with satisfaction when it the tumblers clicked and the lock snapped open. Swinging the cabinet door open, she let out a low whistle of astonishment at what she found inside. Yes. Her earlier suspicions had been right. "Impressive. How long have you been stockpiling all this?"

Castle shrugged his shoulders. "About a year."

"You don't do things by halves, do you?"

"Nope," he declared with a lopsided grin that was adorable. She had to fight the urge to smile back at him. Really, it was getting ridiculous how easy it was for her inside to turn to mush. She'd never been this… smitten?

Biting her lower lip, Kate suppressed her feelings, and concentrated on stuffing the duffel bag with as many ammo boxes as she could, along with some filled magazine cartridges. She noticed a couple of flash grenades along the inner shelf, and shrugged, figuring those could be useful at some point. You never know when you'd need a good flash grenade, she thought, smirking to herself as she added six to the growing stockpile in the duffel bag.

When she'd finished packing what she thought they might need, Kate turned around to find Castle watching her with a soft gaze that made her feel self-conscious. He seemed to be in a slight daze, as if he was lost in some fantasy. She cleared her throat, pursing her lips and tilting her head, holding her chin up.

He snapped out of his reverie, and shook his head. "Sorry," he said, giving her a wink, before moving to close the lockbox. "Got everything?"

"I think so," she said, hefting the bag up. "You?"

He bobbed his head. "Let's head back to the car and get out of here before anyone shows up."

"Sounds good to me."

They made a quick departure from the storage facility. Castle offered to switch bags, suggesting that hers might be too heavy. She refused, almost like she had something to prove. He had cocked his head, dubious, but relented with a shrug. They moved cautiously, keeping an eye out for another suspicious. Kate followed behind him as he surveyed their path. When they arrived back at the manager's office, Kate couldn't hide her surprise when they'd found the black Escalades gone.

Castle chuckled. "I guess it was just our paranoia getting the best of us."

"Yeah," she chuckled back, still uneasy. Kate had learned to trust her gut, and right now her gut was still telling her something was off. It was like they were being watched. Castle seemed unfazed. He was probably used to his mission parameters constantly shifting.

They exited the storage facility without further delay. As they walked down the street, Kate found herself looking over her shoulder with every step. The uneasy feeling in her gut just wouldn't leave her. It was too easy. If they were really being followed, then they should not have been able to retrieve their supplies unmolested. She sighed. Maybe Castle was right. Maybe it was just their paranoia getting the best of them.

The Ford Taurus was where they'd left it, and looked untouched. Castle popped the trunk open, and deposited the duffel with the money. Kate stepped over and handed him the bag with the ammo, and he shoved that in as well. She turned around as he was shifting their bags in the trunk, and froze.

Shit.

"You know, the trunk space is bigger than I tho—"

"Castle," she hissed, raising her hands up in the air.

"Huh?" he turned around, raising an eyebrow in question. But when he saw what she did, the smile that had been spreading across his face fell. He sighed, and reluctantly raised his hands up in surrender. "Oh, just great."

"Richard Castle," the tall man holding the gun on them smiled. He had an accent that was hard to place. "Long time no see."

"Not long enough, if you ask me," Castle grumbled.

"Who's the pretty lady?"

"No one important," Castle offered. "What can I say, Clyde? My line of work is a lonely one. Sometimes I just need a little… um… companionship. It doesn't matter at all that her affections towards me are a result of the price I agreed to pay."

Kate bristled at his words. Was he really trying to pass her off as some sort of… high-class escort? She opened her mouth to object, but before she could, Castle silenced her with a look. She swallowed back her protest.

"She's very beautiful," Clyde noted. "Perhaps you won't mind sharing?"

"Sorry, no," Castle asserted with a growl of protectiveness. Kate gritted her teeth in mild indignation when Castle moved to stand between her and this Clyde fellow, as if he could shield her from danger. It didn't really help. Clyde wasn't alone. There were six others with him, all packing guns with silencers attached. "Besides, you know how much I hate sharing."
"This is true," Clyde nodded, grinning, his eyes roaming Kate.

"Did Sophia send you?" Castle asked, trying to change the focus of the conversation. And it worked. Clyde's eyes darted away from Kate, and she involuntarily released a breath. His gaze had made her feel sick. Unlike Castle, who gazed at her with an adoration and fondness that just seemed to keep growing the longer they spent time together, Clyde's gaze was one of pure lascivious lust.

"Ah, the lovely Sophia," he crooned, smirking wickedly, like he knew some inside joke. "Perhaps yes… perhaps not. It's not my place to say." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "Where's Spyglass?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Spyglass, where is it? I know you have it, Rick," Clyde said, glaring at Castle. "Hand it over, and you shall not be harmed."

"As if," Castle laughed in the face of danger. "You said the same thing in Brussels."

"Ah, Brussels… that… that was an entirely different matter, my friend," Clyde replied with an amused smirk. It faded quickly, replaced with a steely glare. "But again, I must ask, where is Spyglass?"

"You have to know, Clyde, I would never tell you," Castle asserted defiantly.

Clyde sighed. "As you wish, Rick," he said, and gestured to one of his men.

The man holstered his weapon, and reached inside his coat, retrieving a small plastic case. He popped it open and Kate saw two syringes with clear liquid inside.

"I suggest you don't struggle," Clyde said. "Owen's hands aren't as steady as they used to be."

Owen removed one syringe, and tested it. He looked towards them with disinterest, and waited for his boss's order. Clyde gave a nod and Owen stepped forward. Kate felt her chest tighten as panic began to set in. Her breath hitched, and the scar along her side began to throb along with her quickening heartbeat.

"Castle?" Kate hissed out in desperation, hoping he had some sort of plan to get them out of this.

He turned to her with a defeated look. "I'm sorry, Kate," he murmured. His eyes flicked over to Owen and then back to her. "It's just a sedative. Don't struggle, okay? He wants us alive."

Kate shook her head, this couldn't happen. "Castle!" she cried out as two men grabbed her, pulling her away from the spy. One beefy hand grabbed her head, shoving it to the side as he brushed her hair aside to expose her neck. Kate grunted and gritted her teeth, trying to fight off the thugs. Her resistance was futile. Owen grinned sickeningly as he stabbed the needle into the soft flesh between her neck and shoulder.

"Castle!" she all but sobbed.

His expression morphed into one of sorrow and regret. "I'm sorry, Kate. I'm so sorry."

Kate fought against the effects of the sedative. But it was stronger than she'd been anticipating. She struggled to maintain eye contact with Castle, silently pleading with him to help her, to do… something. He was a freaking spy for crying out loud; surely he had some trick up his sleeve. Yet he just stood there, doing nothing. He sighed, and looked away. Her strength was lost to her, and she couldn't do anything else but give in. Tears of frustration and anger prickled at the corners of her eyes as she slipped into unconsciousness.