Temptation

Jade was still held to the chair by duct tape, though she had fallen half asleep. Her head slummed, chin to her chest with brown hair in her eyes. Frank had come in, and with surprising gentleness, removed the contacts from her eyes, stinging only a little from the oil on his fingers. He had looked into her eyes for the first time since she had been discovered to be Jade Gallows, and she had seen nothing in them.

The door opened and she lifted her head. Her green eyes peered through the veil of brown hair to see a stocky, older man with a cigarette in his mouth. The red ember burned against his shadowed face, smoke curling up towards the ceiling. It was Yorkkie, one of the Brits who had come here to track Finn down. Instead, they had captured an infamous assassin in the midst of a game.

"Ya mus' be gettin' old, Lass," his British accent flowed around the white stick of tobacco and paper. "Now, Ah've gotta proposition fer ya, but ya gotta promise that ya ain' gonna do anythin' stupid if Ah untie ya."

She looked at him dryly, not moving. She wasn't going to promise anything, since she knew what was in store for her back on the other side of the pond. Even if it was just life in prison without the possibility of ever seeing the light of day again, there would be enemies inside. She had probably killed a brother, father, sister, lover of at least two women in any given cell block in any given prison on the island. She knew that she couldn't allow herself to be put into custody of the British in England, she would have to escape some time before that, but not yet. She also knew that Frank and Yorkkie had no qualms about shooting her dead and cold.

"Ya listenin' ta meh, lass?" he asked again, his face close to her's and his breath rank with cigarette smoke and tea.

"Yes," she hissed at him, her eyes still starring into his, unblinking and burning with an inner hatred for everything that this man in front of her stood for.

"Well then, girlie, give meh an' answa an' maybe Ah'll untie ya," he repeated, breathing his rancid breath onto the young girl with a snide smirk.

"Ah'll beh good," she said her eyes still holding no intention behind them. She would behave well enough, and since the two Brits weren't here on "official" business, she knew that she wasn't "under arrest" yet.

Yorkkie untied her, a large knife slicing through the duct tape. He peeled it off her skin, pulling out hairs and skin. She hissed in response, but got no sympathy from her releasing captor. She kept seated while his knife ripped through the tape around her legs, releasing them from their place against the chair's legs. Jade's eyes watched carefully as Yorkkie stood again, a ball of duct tape clutched in his left and the blade that cut her free in his right.

"There ya go, lass," he said, a crooked smile on his thin lips. "Now, Ah've got a chance fer ya. Ya know ya're gonna go back ta London wit' Andy, but tha thing is, 'e's a servan' t'our Queen, so 'e can't deal wit' that scum bag Petah."

"Wha's this got ta do wit' meh?" Jade asked, rubbing her sore and bruised wrists, feeling the circulation returning to her legs and fingers now that the circulation was no longer cut off. "Ah ain't undah arrest now, Ah ain't gotta do shyte for ya an' yar wankah." She didn't like where this was going, she didn't want to be the lap dog of the British, in fact that is exactly what she was fighting against at home.

"Aye, lassy, but if ya do this one li'l thin'," he smiled and edged closer, walking around behind her. His hands rested upon her shoulder, making sure she was seated in the chair. "We'll make sure ya get a more lenient sentence, maybe even put ya in an Irish prison. Ya'd be a 'ero there, rather than a target fer murder."

"Whu' d'ya need?" she asked, looking up towards him with her eyes, but never moving her head or face. She would listen, especially for that change of venue clause. If she didn't make her escape, she would definitely need the kindness, and the Irish prison sounded a lot nicer.

"Jus' a li'l thing, nothin' ya 'aven't done before, sweetheart," he whispered to her ear, his breath hot and still bitter to her nostrils. "Ya lovah boy's nephew turned ya in, gave ya up. Ah jus' want ya ta take ya're revnge."

"Ya gotta keep Castle away from meh," she had a dry expression on her face as her eyes turned towards the door where Yorkkie had fixed his stare. "'e'll kill meh if 'e knows what's goin' on,"

"Dun worry, Lass; Frank'll be fine wit' the idea," the British agent spoke with a chill that infested her spine. There was something in the way he had said this, something in the way that he was smiling.

She had a feeling that, even as nasty as Peter was, Frank wasn't going to be happy if she killed him. Jade had managed to keep her nose clean, the only thing that he had caught her doing was impersonating his daughter, which really wasn't that successful, but other than that she was clean. If she killed on his grounds, even if Yorkkie and Andy said it was okay, it didn't mean that Frank was going to let her get away with it necessarily.

"Ah think Ah'll 'ave ta say no ta ya, fag smokin' wankah," she kept her eyes fixed, feeling her body lurch forward as the chair was ripped out from underneath her body, sending her forward and down to the ground. She hit hard, her knees and palms taking the weight of her body, but not enough for her landing to be anywhere near soft.

"Fine then, bitch, rot away!" Yorkkie hurled the chair at her.

Jade raised her arms up to protect her head, curling her legs up to her stomach, trying to keep her vital parts from being hit by the wood planks of the chairs. She whimpered as it hit her, not breaking any bones, but shattering the light wood of the chair. Pain shot through her arms, the soft part of her side and her hip.

She laid on the floor, hearing Yorkkie's steps as he walked out of the room, his steps quieting as he left, cursing her and her stubbornness. "Dumb Irish cunt."

The door slammed shut and Jade uncurled herself, pushing the wood off her body, letting it clatter to the ground. She inhaled deeply, feeling a sharp, hot pain flood her body, stemming from her ribs. It looked like she was in deep now, deeper even.

Moving to the wall and leaning against it, tilting her head up, she began to pray again.

"Mary, Mother of God, give me patience, strength and courage to survive. Guide me through this time of crisis..." she crossed herself repeatedly, tears starting to form in her eyes as she became overwhelmed by her situation. "St. Jude the Advocate, if I should die, please plea my case to Peter, keeper of the gates. Mary, Mother of All, protect me if my evils are judged for what they are, and my soul condemned to the realm of Lucifer..."

From behind the glass, Frank crossed himself, whispering along lost prayer for the soul of the girl on the other side of the glass, on the verge of tears. The proposition that Yorkkie had just given her, murder Peter and get a hand in her defence, sickened him. He knew that Andy wanted the scumbag Peter dead, but to use the power they had over their prisoner...

Yorkkie came into the room and was shocked to see Frank standing there, standing and starring with those cold eyes so often the last thing that criminals could, and would, see. "Frank, Ah didn' expect ya ta be 'ere."

"I'm sure you didn't. Tell Andy to do his own dirty work."

Frank walked out, his cold aura passing Yorkkie and giving the battle hardened Brit a shiver. The door slammed heavily, leaving Yorkkie alone to observe the girl through the one way glass.