AC Front Maritim Hotel – Poblenou area

Barcelona - 18:28

The sun sat happily in the immaculate blue sky outside the hotel. People were lazing by the pool, others enjoying themselves by playing in it, laughter being carried on the breeze, it was a perfect day. Inside one of the rooms of the hotel, however, it was a different matter entirely. The curtains to Max Brewer's room were closed, refusing entrance to any of the sun's cheerful rays. Lights were off, plunging the room into almost darkness, and silence was her only company, as she sat on the two-person sofa, staring at the blank TV screen. She'd spent the last few hours much the same way, occasionally getting up to pace the room early on, but had eventually gave up on that, along with trying to make sense of the thoughts, and now she was unsure if she were having any at all. Vaguely aware of feeling numb, she found she could do nothing but stare. Lost in some kind of trance, a mix of wretched self-pity and something akin to murderous rage, she sat in the quiet, darkened room. Subdued.

A familiar guilt had begun to rise in her once she and the remaining members of her squad had arrived back at the hotel, panic-stricken and furious. A lot of what had previously transpired struck a cord that was all too similar to once that had been strung before. Amy had been kidnapped a second time and once again she and Max had been fighting. Yet despite the arguing, just like the time before, the squad leader was ready to do whatever it would take to bring her back. After all, a DEB was instructed never to leave a woman behind. However, Max hadn't been enforcing rules all too well lately, and she knew it. She was either over enforcing unimportant ones to make certain individuals' lives difficult, or bending them to suit herself.

"What would Ma think of you now?" She chided inwardly. Her mother had been a DEB, her mother before her, and if either of them knew how she had been behaving, Max knew there would have been hell to pay. Her Ma was a strict woman, who did show affection and kindness, but only when it was necessary. Her father had been an absent one, and so her mother and grandmother, who was much the same as her own daughter, were the only stable parental figures in her life. No brothers or sisters, she was the only one who could carry their family name on through the Academy's ranks, and that was what she aspired to. To be the best.

"To be the best, you have to make sacrifices. You can't afford to have a gaggle of friends around you. You can't be the best if someone takes pointers from you and beats you to it."

She'd disregarded that bit of her Ma's advice when she met Amy. So sweet and friendly, you couldn't help but like the girl. Before Max knew what had happened, they were best friends and being the best had dropped a few notches on her aspiration meter. Maybe that's why she had been so mad when Amy had betrayed them all. Betrayed her. Max had put their friendship above a lot of things, whether other people knew that or not, and to have Amy just knock that aside for someone she'd just met, their enemy no less, hurt more than she'd ever really let on. Sure, she'd let everyone know how pissed she was, but the real emotional hurt was kept hidden. She couldn't afford to let people know that she was just as fragile as anyone else inside.

After some quite reflection, it had begun to really sink in just how out of line she had been recently. While she did genuinely feel Amy had betrayed her, part of her, somewhere deep, deep down, also realized that things had been difficult for Amy.

"Max?" The voice pushed its way into the room, forcing her out of her reverie. "Max? Are you in there?" The dark-haired DEB wearily rubbed her eyes, before standing and making her way over to the door.

"Janet." On the other side of the door stood her worried looking team-mate. "Something you need?" Usually she would have been more abrupt, sounded angrier, but Max found she didn't have it in her. Which was probably better for the other woman.

"They're serving dinner downstairs. I thought I should come get you." Max just sighed and shook her head.

"I'm not hungry."

"You should eat something." A glare almost found its way to Max's face, but it was lost at the last second.

"I'm fine. Go enjoy the food with Dom. Keep your strength up, you're gonna need it." The next thing Janet knew, the door was being closed in her face. She stood staring at it for a moment, a sad frown marring her usually cheery features, and briefly debated trying once more to convince her squad leader to leave her room and eat, but decided it would be for the best if she just left Max alone for a while. Janet knew they all felt guilty, that they could have done something more to protect their friend, but she had a hunch that Max was purposely placing most of the blame on her own shoulders. The bitter side of Janet wanted to shrug the thought off, allow herself to think Max deserved to feel like crap and be done with it. Of course, Janet wasn't about to let herself to that. Still, she did as she was asked, and made her way down to the dining room, where, a more worried-looking than usual, Dominique sat waiting.

"She iz not coming?" A defeated shake of Janet's head answered the French agent's question. "She has to eat, no?"

"No." Janet nodded, and then paused. "I mean yes, she should eat, but she won't come down. She's just sitting up there in a pitch black room staring at the wall." The petite DEB slumped down in her seat across from Dom and sighed heavily. "I'm worried about her. Max doesn't get depressed, she gets angry. Seeing her like this is weird."

"I am sure the anger will kick in soon enough." The attempt at humor didn't go unnoticed and Dominique got a small smile for her efforts. Just a small one though, one sadly devoid of happiness. "Janet, it will be okay. You have to believe that." A slow, sad shake of a blonde head.

"I don't know if I can, Dom."

Lucy's House

Barcelona – 21:15

The living room was bathed in a warm, soft orange glow, emanating from the lamps they had switched on once it had begun to get dark outside. The one discrepancy was where it hit the light of the T.V set, turning it to an odd mix that shone mostly blue. The only sound was that coming from the speakers, a now familiar theme tune that a certain slim brunette couldn't help but bop her head along with as she spoke.

"So, let me get this straight. You're telling me that there are people out there that actually spend their time writing novel-length stories about fictional characters from TV shows and movies?" Scud nodded his head in confirmation, licking the remaining ice-cream from the spoon he was holding.

"Oh yeah, like you wouldn't believe. There are thousands of sites dedicated to just The WP and Gab alone." Lucy scratched the tip of her nose, thoughtfully.

"Wow, people really get into the whole lesbian icon thing, huh?" Scud waggled his spoon in her face, his sharp blue eyes wide.

"You better believe it. It's a very powerful thing. Finding people, fictional or not, to look up to like that. It's a big deal when it happens. Some people just find the urge to write about them. Or read. I'm more of a reader myself. You wouldn't believe the kind of stories some people-" He was cut short by a hand in his face.

"Please stop. I can imagine the kind of stories you've managed to find." Scud shrugged.

"In my defence, some of their summaries are very misleading." Lucy snorted, rolling her eyes.

"I'm sure." She pushed herself up off the couch and moved to the television set, pressing stop on the DVD player, taking out the disk and putting it back in its case. "You're a lonely, pervy little man, Scud." Something between a choked-gasp and a noise of utter denial escaped his lips in protest, but just as he was about to say something, he stopped himself.

"No, that's a fair statement." Lucy collapsed next to him on the couch and grabbed the ice cream container out of his hands, his spoon disappearing milliseconds later. He stared at his now empty hands. "It is the weirdest thing." Frowning, Lucy turned her attention to him.

"What is?"

"I had ice-cream and a spoon a second ago and now they're gone!" With another, more exaggerated eye roll, Lucy flicked the last remnants of ice cream off her spoon in Scud's direction.

"Hey!" Jumping to his feet, he frantically tried to rid his shirt of the cold, goopy mess. "Do you know what this is?!" He all but yelled, pointing an enraged finger towards his chocolate-stained apparel. "This is a vintage Star Trek t-shirt! You can't just go out and buy them anymore! I had to talk to three different people in different parts of the world to get a hold of this!" Blinking tanned eyelids, brown eyes looked up at him blankly, like he was the strangest thing Lucy had ever seen. Quickly calming down, he adopted a somewhat sheepish look and made his way to the kitchen, mumbling. "Well I did."

"I didn't realise people went around wearing collectors items." Lucy quipped, digging back into the ice cream without a second's hesitation. "Aren't they like, supposed to be behind glass or something?" Scud's form appeared in the doorway, one hand clutching a damp cloth, the other pulling the t-shirt taught as he tried to get rid of the stain.

"Some things have to be shown to the world to be appreciated, not locked up, away from prying eyes. I'd have thought you of all people, Miss Diamond Thief Extraordinaire, would understand that." Lucy nodded thoughtfully, agreeing, but eyed him with amusement.

"I don't think a vintage Star Wars t-shirt is quite in the same league as a diamond though."

"Trek! Star Trek!"

"Does it really make a difference?" The glare she received as an answer made her make a mental note not to make the mistake of asking such a question again. Scud turned and threw the cloth in the direction of the sink, punching the air when he managed to land the shot, and then sat back down next to Lucy, who was still eating his ice cream without so much as an apology. He frowned at her and bobbed his head, indicating the carton she held. A carton that was rapidly becoming empty.

"You gonna share that?" Brown eyes didn't even bother to raise themselves.

"Nope."

"But.... I paid for it." A shrug of bare shoulders indicated that Lucy didn't really care about that.

"And you made the mistake of opening it in my house." Scud released an exasperated sigh and made a grab for the ice cream. Only to find a knee being place squarely against his chest, forcing him to roll over. He hit the floor with a painful sounding thud. "Hey, grabby-hands, mitts off." Scud used the coffee table to pull himself into a sitting position and stared at Lucy with wide eyes.

"But it's mine!" Finally she looked at him. Deep brown orbs locking with pale blue.

"Australia was mine to sink. Didn't stop you and your grabby hands then, did it?" She raised her voice a few octaves, just enough to make it sound like over-exaggerated mocking. "'Oh no, you can't do that Lucy, World leaders won't be pleased.' And you just grabbed that lever right out of my hands." The cold, wet metal of the spoon made him jump as it connected with his forehead. All was silent for a minute, as Lucy shovelled another spoonful into her mouth.

"And.... that's why I can't have my ice cream? Because I stopped you from sinking Australia?"

"Something like that, yeah." Scud sat dumbfounded, before he shook his head in defeat and, with a groan and a rub to his back, got up and took his place next to Lucy again.

"Nothing to do with the fact that you're a greedy-ass pig?" The glare he was fixed with would have made others run for the hills, but not him. It simply made him chuckle with gleeful triumph, his jibe finding its mark. "Shouldn't your lady lover have shown up again by now?" Lucy's brow creased into a frown as she glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the wall. Almost ten.

"Yeah, long before now." Suddenly, she became aware of an almost unbearable sinking in her stomach. And whatever was sinking, was dragging boards filled with rusty nails down with it. "Something's not right...." Scud turned concerned eyes on her.

"Hey, I'm sure she's fine, running late with a mission or something. A kitten probably got stuck in a tree." Lucy closed her eyes, her frown deepening, and brushed off his attempt at reassurance with a wave of her hand.

"No, Scud.... something's wrong. She wouldn't leave it this long without letting me know she was okay. I know her.... she wouldn't." Lucy got up and began to pace back and forth in front of the coffee table, her fingers tugging on her bottom lip nervously. "Can you get me the number for her hotel room?" Scud nodded and stood, moving to the back of the room where his laptop was set up on the table in front of the sliding doors that led to the beach.

"You really think something bad has happened?" He asked once he'd sat down and booted up his computer. Lucy folded her arms across her chest and gave a half-hearted shrug.

"It just doesn't feel right, Scud." With a single nod, he threw himself into his task.

Somewhere in Barcelona

Same Time

A weakened pair of lightly tanned arms pulled relentlessly at the restraints that bound them, drawing out what little strength was left and clinging to it in the impossible hope that the ropes would eventually drop from her arms. Finally, with something akin to a choked sob, her arms stopped moving in defeat and she allowed her head to loll forward until her chin touched her chest. She'd gotten used to the darkness, the silence. After he had tortured her with his words, delighting in her pain, he'd left, and she hadn't felt anyone's presence since. Something she wasn't entirely sure if she was happy or saddened by. Granted, it was nice not to have scum breathing down her neck, but the time alone allowed her to reflect.

"How could we have let ourselves get lured in like that?"

The rope dug into her wrists, she wouldn't be surprised if the marks they left turned out to be permanent. He hadn't just used rope either, that painful realisation had occurred while he was telling her, in explicit detail, how her team mates were probably being shipped back to their headquarters. In pieces.

"They can't be dead, they just can't...."

Her body was drained from struggling, tired of pulling at the rope and having the wire concealed beneath it bite her skin, cutting her. The blindfold was tied tight enough that it had begun to place a painful amount of pressure on her head. And she could do nothing.

"I'm going to die here."

The thought had rocked her to the core the first time it had entered her brain, and she had attacked her restraints, desperately wanting to believe that if she could just pull hard enough they'd come free. The hope had died around the tenth time realisation of that fact had sunk in.

"Lucy...."

She found her soul torn. Wanting nothing more than for her dark-haired, knight in shining armour to crash this psycho's sick party and rescue her, and yet knowing that if Lucy even attempted such a feat, she'd be pumped full of lead before she could even make it within a hundred yards of her. Perhaps what frightened her most, was that if Lucy were to find out what had happened to her, Amy doubted that she'd let a barrage of bullets, or death, stop her.

"Don't stop...."

Fragments of a memory that seemed so distant now broke away from wherever they had made their home and settled inside Amy's mind. Swirling in and around themselves until they formed a picture. Two forms, pressed tightly together, passion and longing creating blinding auras that connected and merged into one.

"Don't ever stop touching me...."

"I won't.... never again...."

It seemed so far away from her now, the events of the night before, but the memory lingered firmly. With it, the scents and sounds and the feel of that night. And Amy felt her soul not only tear, but shatter. The blindfold restricted her from seeing her surroundings, but the utter hopelessness of the situation she found herself in disallowed her from seeing a way out. A way back to Lucy.

AC Front Maritim Hotel – Poblenou area

Barcelona – 23:02

The room lay still, blanketed by darkness, untouched by even the moon. Not a whisper floated in on the breeze outside, not even a slight rustle of bed sheets disturbed the quiet. In fact, the bed itself lay empty, the sheets and comforter crisp and neat. Perfect. If one were to happen to stumble into the room, they would find few things out of place. The cushions belonging to the two-piece settee sat at symmetrical angles, clothes were neatly folded and ready to be put on the next morning. The remote control for the TV was even neatly placed on the coffee table, again at a perfect angle. It sat next to a blue, hardback book.

If the same person who had entered the room, was to then pick up said book and turn to any of the pages, they would find a similar image to all the rest. The backdrop, pose, and other little details might be different, but each drawing they turned to would depict the same dark woman. Sometimes she was accompanied by a blonde, but more often that not, it was just her. Smiling, mid-laugh, glancing at something off the page with either a fond or a menacing look. Some would be in colour, others merely sketches, but they would all convey the same message to the onlooker. That they were drawn with the utmost care, attention, and love. Painstakingly crafted over, until every detail was right.

The shrill, harsh ringing of a telephone decimated the silence, violently ripping it to pieces. Had it been glass, the room itself would have shattered. Instead, it remained intact, and unmoving. Nothing stirred. The phone rang again. Whispered promises echoed within the stillness of the room.

"I'll come back to you. I promise."

Scenes the four walls had witnessed rolled around themselves as the ringing continued.

"Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't gone back that night. What would have happened if we'd run away together."

The ringing chased away the remnants of past happenings. Persistent and chilling against the stark silence, it continued.

And continued.

Until, finally.

The ringing stopped.