Quarantine: Day Four

Noel Sosa was sick of finding bodies. When he took this job with the palace, he expected a low-maintenance, cushy gig. Something with ten hours per shift watching cameras, standing still, and pretending tourists didn't exist with an hour lunch and two fifteen-minute breaks. Not this murder show.

"Walk me through this one more time," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried his best to stave off a headache. "If you claim to have no connection to the deceased, then why are you wearing the deceased's girlfriend's clothes?"

It wouldn't be the first time a woman scorned lashed out in a violent way. It wouldn't connect Nesryn el Sayed to Cameron Garcia's death, but it made sense as an isolated event.

"They were left behind in my room," the girl, Nesryn, said between fits of sobs. She was just as worn ragged as he was, but for an entirely different reason. Sosa had never been accused of murder, but it had to be a stressful experience. Not that he wanted to show sympathy for a potential murderer. It was hard not to when she was sitting across from him crying her eyes out in the most gaudy purple pajama set he had ever seen.

"Room 016 right?"

"Right," Nesryn said with a nod. "It must have been hers before the virus."

There was no way to confirm that without getting his hands on the palace staff roster, and only a few people had access to that kind of info. The Palace Event Coordinator was one, but after the disaster that was the press release, she would probably tell him to go suck eggs in hell. Another would be the Head of Household, but Jonathan was no doubt busy with Avery's butler inserting himself up his ass every waking moment; Jonathan didn't need Sosa doing the same. The Captain of the Guard wasn't in attendance for Prince Avery's birthday ball and was therefore either dead or useless. He could get Ren or Joe to look into it; the latter was pretty laid back when it came to rules, but it would take so much time.

So...a dead end.

Sosa bit back another sigh. He didn't want to upset the witness, but his patience was running thin.

"Help me understand, Nesryn. Why would anyone want Victor dead?"

"I don't know. I didn't even know him," she cried out, more tears falling from her big, wet eyes. She was so pitiful it hurt to look at her. "I wasn't even supposed to be here!"

Before Sosa could dive down that rabbit hole, the door to the interrogation room - aka the nearest sitting room with all the other entrances and exits save for the main one blocked off by strategically placed chairs and some candelabras on the handles - flew open and in swept a tide of burly men in black suits headed by a less burly, slightly older man in a black suit.

"We'll take over from here."

There was no room for arguing. The lead man in the black suit pushed into the room and immediately started checking the perimeter, the other men fanning out and following in his footsteps. The last to trail behind was Agent Ambrosia Raine herself, hanging in the doorway like some apologetic ghost.

"What's going on?" Sosa asked her, knowing that these assholes wouldn't bother giving him the time of day.

Red lips pulled into a frown. "Special Intelligence is taking over. You're being relieved."

"Thought I just said that." Both of them turned towards the original man, the one with the piercing blue eyes and the scowl lines around his mouth. Those eyes turned to the brass badge on Sosa's right breast, reading the name engraved with a wrinkle of his nose. "This is a little above your pay grade, Sosa."

Any other day and he would agree. But he didn't like being talked down to by middle-aged bastards with superiority complexes. He didn't like the insinuation that he wasn't doing his job.

He opened his mouth, but a hand on his arm stopped him. A hand connected to some seriously sharp nails.

"Come on," Ambrosia said with all the sweetness of a pit viper. "I'll show you out."

She smiled at the man with the blue eyes and got them both out of the room before there was another murder. Sosa liked to think he would be the one coming out on top, but he knew better. Those were the blue eyes of a hunter, one that only knew victory over its prey. There was a reason men like him stayed in power while others followed, and it wasn't because he emanated warm, fuzzy feelings.

"Fuck," Ambrosia cursed under her breath once they were out of earshot of any of the men in suits. "What has gotten into you? You can't just go around starting fights like that. You're lucky he didn't rip your balls off."

Something had gotten into him. Sosa wasn't one to rile easily, but the lack of sleep mixed with the constant lack of respect and blatant racism thrown his way since New Asia decided to throw some super-virus into the Illéan atmosphere had caused him to snap. Yesterday one of the cooks actually spat in his food. Saori had to ban them from the kitchen after pouring scalding grits over their knuckles 'on accident'. Being dismissed from his post by a middle-aged white guy who clearly thought he was better? Yeah...that stung.

"Why? It's not fair. Men like him just get to parade around and shit on people whenever they like," Sosa vented, tired of this day and being walked over like he was worthless. He could do more than just babysit a bunch of spoiled rich people. He could contribute something valuable to the process, and the first time he tried, this was how he was rewarded. Fucking insulting. "My duty and my responsibility is to the people of this country, and to the monarchy. And then he strolls in and just- he just..."

Ambrosia's touch was gentle this time. Soothing.

"You were out of your league," she said as gently as she could, which was still pretty blunt. "This isn't some bum squatting on the palace steps, okay. This is the Duke of fucking York with his throat slashed open. It's DEFCON fucking five and you're lucky you didn't get thrown out in cuffs for interfering with an international relations crisis."

It wasn't like Sosa didn't know he was fishing in deeper waters. He wasn't trying to be a hero. But he was trying, which was more than what he could say about some people.

"He didn't have to be so rude." He sounded petulant and stubborn, but it was the principle of the thing. Common courtesy was always owed no matter the circumstances. "Where was the, "Good job, Sosa. Thanks for holding down the fort?'"

"If you're looking for thanks from that man, you're never gonna get it," Ambrosia replied, half sarcastic and half sad. There was something bitter in her eyes that matched the bitterness in the agent's. "I've been waiting my whole life for a 'good job, Ambrosia,' 'I'm proud of you, Ambrosia,' 'I love you, Ambrosia'."

"Wait...Is that your dad? Seriously?" Sosa's stomach flipped as he connected the pieces. Ambrosia didn't confirm or deny, but her silence said enough. He felt like such an ass. "Fuck, I am so sorry."

"Don't be. He's a dick. I get it. Now try living with it."

There wasn't anything Sosa could say to that, other than that this was a shitty situation and he didn't mean to put Ambrosia in an awkward place. Clearly she still had her own shit to sort out with her dad. It wasn't his place to complicate that with his own hard feelings. Because it was one thing to think he was a tyrant in the workplace; it was another to insinuate that he was a bad father.

Sosa let out a sigh, scrubbed his hands over his face. "I could use a drink. Blow off some steam."

Ambrosia let out a throaty laugh, those wicked sharp nails trailing up his kevlar vest. "I can think of a few ways to blow off some steam."

"Wow, really?"

"What can I say? Danger turns me on," she said with a shrug, flipping her hair over her shoulder in an effortless wave.

"I'll pass."

"Don't be like that," she pouted, though there was little heat to it. Nothing was serious to Ambrosia, not friendships and certainly not romantic partners. Sosa knew that women like her spelled nothing but trouble, and he made sure to stay far away from her lane. Still...he was only human, and she was very beautiful. It was hard not to lean in closer as she kept talking, seducing. "You could come over to my corner of the world - this lovely little corner office a cozy closet just big enough for two, and - "

Ambrosia stopped talking. That wasn't strange, but the look she shot over his shoulder definitely was.

Sosa followed her gaze. It led to two young women lurking suspiciously near the interrogation room. He recognized them briefly from one of this shifts - the basement maybe? They seemed like the meddling type, especially the one with the bumblebee headband who thought that standing on her tip toes and peeking above people's heads was totally normal, non-incriminating behavior. The other one in the oversized coat was trying too hard to be like the people in the suits. Together, they reeked of trouble, and Ambrosia's nose was sensitive and sharp.

"Hold that thought," she said with a smile that held entirely too much teeth. Her canines were sharp and white. The smile of a hunter. Just like her father.

The void she left was uncomfortable. Sosa was still angry, still upset, and now he had lost his support system. Not that Ambrosia was great at the whole 'consoling people' thing (that would require her to admit she had feelings other than horniness) but it was better than nothing.

What was he supposed to do now? Return to the barracks and wait for his next post to roll around? Which was in...fuck, six hours. There was no way he was going to get sleep after this, and no one would believe him if he called out sick. Just his luck.

He might as well try to get a nap in while he still could. There was nothing else waiting for him here.

Maybe Saori would still be up and stress baking. Maybe she would have some of those sticky buns fresh out the oven...that sounded a hell of a lot better than staring up at the bottom of a bunk, waiting for the clock to tick tick tick time away.

As he turned the corner to the servant's stairs, he caught sight of something black in the corner of his eye. It was hair, hair that belonged to another young woman, this one unnoticed by everyone except him. She thought she was safe, that she was invisible as she took in the spectacle before her. She even had the nerve to munch on a chip - half-eaten bag bunched in her left hand - as she watched.

Then, she looked up and their eyes locked.

She dropped the chips and ran.

"Hey, you! Stop!" Sosa called after her.

Logic said he should have caught up to her. He was twice her size and ran every morning before his shift (or he did before all this insanity started). She didn't have that much of a head start. And yet, when he reached the bottom of the stairs, all he saw was a long, empty hallway.

Noah Holmes was not a violent guy.

Grandma Viv would slap him silly if she ever caught word of him fighting. She was not a woman to cross, Grandma Viv. She was the judgmental sort, but in the way that made you feel like she was always on your side, backing you up even if you were constantly labeled as the kid whose parents gave him too much sugar. She was always saying he had too much energy, too much left unsettled in his bones. It was too late in Noah's life to chase a diagnosis, or, at least that's what he thought at the ripe old age of twenty-six. Getting answers to something like 'why do you feel like there's a nest of hornets buzzing in your head twenty-four-seven?' wasn't high on his to-do list if he could focus said hornets on something productive.

Right now, all his hornets honed in on Nesryn. Nesryn, his best friend, who looked like someone had shoved her around and kicked her puppy (that she did not have). She shook when he pulled her to his chest and cried silently into his shirt.

"Did those assholes hurt you?" he demanded, his blood pounding in his veins. The buzzing turned into a battle cry. His hornets wanted revenge.

She shook her head, unable to speak. And that was fine. They had long since moved past needing words to understand each other. She could have stood perfectly still and just breathed and Noah would know if something was off, if something was hurt, if something was broken.

There might not have been anything physically wrong with Nesryn, but she wasn't okay. There were other ways to be hurt, after all.

They didn't need to have this conversation in the hall where people had come to congregate and gawk at the latest spectacle. Some people had no shame, and Noah didn't think any of the ones snapping photos or poking around asking questions when the body wasn't even an hour cold had any right to call themselves reports. Where were the fucking ethics?

He pulled Nesryn down the hall and into an empty room. As soon as the doors were shut, he guided them both to the couch and encouraged Nesryn to snuggle as much and as close as she needed. She was such a tactile person; touch was her love language. Even when they were little, she had no concept of personal space. Now, she latched onto him like a leech, and he didn't even try to deny the voice in his head saying he liked it.

"What did they even want from you?"

"They wanted to know who killed that poor boy," she said with a sniffle, even the memory upsetting her. "Apparently he's someone important."

"But they...they can't possibly think that you did it?"

"I don't know." She sounded so miserable; he would have given anything to trade places. Then, her eyes grew wide and panicked. She started to babble, "I didn't do it Noah, I swear I just - "

"I know you didn't. I promise. I've known you since we were six years old, Nes. I think I'd have a hunch if you were a murderer," he soothed her, running his hands down her arms which were covered in goosebumps despite the heat of the room. "What did you tell them?"

"The truth," she said with a shrug, regaining some of her composure. "I told them I was with other people, that I couldn't have killed anyone, that I wasn't even supposed to be at this stupid palace."

Panic made his chest seize, and he made himself breathe through it. Only one of them could have a mental breakdown at a time, and right now it was Nesryn's turn.

"Nes...we can't tell anyone else about this. Okay? Not even our parents."

"Why?"

"Because it looks suspicious as hell if we admit to stealing my boss's press passes to sneak into a party where two people died."

Not that Noah wanted Hunter Davies to be stuck here instead of him...okay Noah might have wished that just a little bit. The guy was a massive prick who stole all the best stories thanks to his investigator daddy, and he had it coming. But there were still so many stories to collect, so much to report on, that Noah wasn't ready to chalk this all up as a total loss. A murderer was fresh and exciting and the Duke of York was a high-profile victim. He just wished Nesryn didn't have to be caught up in the middle of it.

That was the theme with them, wasn't it? Nesryn getting dragged down by his bad luck.

"Besides, it has to be fraud to pass ourselves off as reporters. We could get thrown in jail for identity fraud at the very least."

"But you are a reporter Noah," Nesryn said, confused, her brow furrowed in that cute way where it scrunched her nose. Noah didn't deserve her. Or her kindness, or her words of affirmation. If she knew just how much he wasted at this dead-end job...if only she knew this wasn't a temporary post, that he spent his days fetching coffee and stalking mortuaries instead of making big breaks...she'd be so disappointed.

"Only I lied, and I'm sure my father could get me out of any real trouble," she sighed and snuggled in closer, her nose tickling his neck.

"You hate pulling the diplomat card," he reminded her. Though, he had to admit, diplomatic immunity sounded pretty damn good right about now.

"Not now. Not this time. I'm scared, and I'm tired, and I want to go home."

Noah's heart ached for her. No doubt the Ambassador was worried sick, just like his own mother. Noah would be lucky if he ever got to see Nesryn again after all this. Her father already didn't think he was friendship material for someone of his daughter's status. If he knew the truth, it was game over. Nesryn would be put on the first flight to Saudi to live with her cousins and Noah could kiss their friendship goodbye.

"They took all my quartz," she pouted, running her fingers over the smooth, clear bead on her bracelet. "This is all I have left, and the energy I'm putting out is just...too much."

"Then let me take some." Noah pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin. "You're not alone."

"Feels like it sometimes," she mumbled. "You've been gone for so long."

Pain lanced through him. He was glad she couldn't see him wince. It was a low but honest blow, one that was a long time coming. He knew he could be single-minded, his fixations and hobbies all-consuming, but he never meant to make her think that she wasn't important. Nothing could have been further from the truth. She was the most important, above all things.

"Remember that guy you used to date our junior year, the one who wouldn't stop sneezing?"

Nesryn breathed out a laugh against his throat, warm breath fogging his glasses. "His name was Scott, but called him Snotty."

"Hey, the guy had some terrible allergies. The boogers were off the chain." Noah didn't have to try hard to plead his case. How Nesryn ever put up with the non-stop runny noses was beyond him. He didn't even want to think about how unhygienic making out would be...not that he wanted to think about Nesryn making out with anyone, ever.

"Why are we talking about my ex?" she asked, curious but also confused. Her eyebrow furrow was still doing the cute scrunchy thing. Noah had the most insane urge to kiss it, which he beat mercilessly back into its box with a stick.

Funny thing was, Snotty wasn't even her most recent ex. Nesryn had dated so many other guys in college, most of which Noah never got the chance to meet (thank God). That was the only perk of going to different colleges. The rest of their time apart was a hyperactive mind-fuck wondering if his best friend was moving on without him while his whole world stayed painfully still.

"You could be stuck in a room with him. But, instead, you're stuck here with me," he said with a shrug, which ended up jostling both of them since Nesryn was still wrapped up in his arms, stuck to him like an octopus.

The furrowed eyebrow arched, unimpressed. "And that's supposed to be an upgrade?"

"Hey, at least I can hear you when you lay your hopes and fears on me. Snotty wouldn't have heard a word of what you said over the congestion in his ears."

That got a laugh out of her. Mission accomplished.

"You're terrible."

"I'm practical," he corrected, squeezing her a little tighter. "We're gonna get through this, Nes. You and me. Together. Just like we always do."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

For a moment, everything was perfect.

"You!" came an outraged, screeching voice from the doorway.

Noah and Nesryn looked up to see a bedraggled blonde charging their way, a manic look in her eye and a frazzled maid running after her. This blonde radiated the kind of energy Nesryn would describe as "feral" or "unhinged" : mascara streaming in black clumps down her cheeks, nose rubbed red and raw, clothes covered in a drying patina of blood. All she needed was a weapon to complete the manic femme fatale, and Noah could present her to those bastards of security agents and smugly say, "Here you go, case closed, solved it for you. Oh, and FUCK YOU for making my best friend cry."

Unfortunately there was no such weapon, so Noah had to settle for pulling Nesryn up and behind him, using his body as a shield so this petite blonde didn't rip her throat out with her bitten nails.

"Did you kill him?" she shrieked, looking past Noah's shoulder where the top of Nesryn's dark head could still be seen.

"Hey, back off!" Noah did his best to ward the crazy girl away with outstretched arms, but she was relentless. Any more aggressive and he'd have to actually put some force behind his pushes.

"He was my boyfriend! I loved him more than anything!" she wailed, a fresh wave of tears pouring from her eyes.

Noah's anger ebbed. He dropped his arms, now having the urge to hug this girl - Olivia Edison, palace intern, the gears clicked in his memory - instead of ward her off. He didn't do that, though. Not because he didn't want to but because she struck him as the kind of person to cause him harm for trying.

Nesryn moved around Noah, clutching to his side as she implored, "No, I didn't kill him. I promise you I didn't do it."

It took Olivia a moment for the sincerity of Nesryn's words to sink in. When they did, she threw herself onto the couch and started sobbing again in earnest. Noah never really knew what to do with crying people who weren't Nesryn. He instinctively knew how to console his best friend; that came from years of scabbed knees and unrequited valentines. That was totally different from a complete stranger with a mean streak.

Still, he had to try. He'd be a dick if he didn't, and he didn't like seeing people in pain. Maybe that was his soft heart talking, or maybe that was his mother's voice in his head saying that everyone deserved a helping hand.

As slow and steady as approaching a baby deer, Noah lowered himself a safe distance away onto the couch. It would be better to have this conversation if they were eye-to-eye instead of him talking down to her.

"I'm a reporter for the Angeles Beacon Journal. Obituaries are kinda my thing. I'm really good at them."

"He is, he's really good," Nesryn chimed in, solidifying his claim.

"Yeah, and I would love to write one for your boyfriend, the Prince - "

"Duke!"

"- Duke of York," Noah corrected smoothly, his nerves making his hands shake. "I will make sure everyone knows just how spectacular and remarkable he was. And I will post it all over these palace walls so that no one forgets."

It didn't matter that he knew next to nothing about British monarchy. Noah didn't much care for the one Illéa had; he never bothered to learn anything about the ones across the ocean. All he had to do was look up a few articles, maybe have Olivia chime in a few key words, and his imagination could make up the rest. Bullshitting was his best writing skill. If it got this grieving widow - what exactly did one call the girlfriend of the deceased? - off Nesryn's back, he was more than happy to show off.

"Would that please you, Miss Edison?"

For a moment, Noah thought Olivia was gearing up to slap him. She got very still and quiet, and her eyes narrowed to hateful slits. But then, she relaxed. All the fight seemed to leave her, and she nodded her head.

"That would be nice," she muttered so quietly Noah almost didn't hear.

"Okay," he agreed, and let out a heavy sigh. One crisis avoided. "I'm just gonna take Nesryn back to her room, and then I'll get to writing."

"I'm sorry that I accused you. You're nice people," Olivia said as she stood, though her eyes never quite reached Nesryn's, or Noah's. She was lost in thought somewhere, spiraling no doubt. Noah felt bad for her. He couldn't imagine losing someone he loved like that. His mother or his grandmother...or Nesryn.

"Whoever did this, they can't hide forever. The palace isn't that big. They'll find them."

"I bet it was Geneva," she seethed, already spiraling down another rabbit hole. "That girl has it out for me, I know it."

"That...would be an extreme way to prove a point - "

"She's full of extremes!" Olivia snapped, all reason flying from the room. "She punched an event coordinator for doing 'her job' and you think she wouldn't resort to murder?"

"I think the two are wildly different."

"She punched someone?" Nesryn asked, shocked as she looked at Noah. He winced again, knowing he would have to face the lie he told her when he said nothing interesting happened at the press release.

"It was more like an open-faced slap - "

"There were knuckles involved!" Olivia bowled right over Noah. "It's all anyone could talk about! The girl is a loose canon and an emotional disaster. She is the definition of unstable!"

"Right now, you look like the definition of unstable." He didn't have to point out the bloodstains or the lack of shoes. The maid behind her was holding a jacket out to her, silently pleading for her to take it, but Olivia never even looked her way. Noah sighed. "Look, I get that you and Geneva have some weird beef, but that doesn't make her capable of murder. I've spent some time with her these past few days, and nothing about her screams 'I get stabby feelings towards people.'"

Olivia scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Three days doesn't make you an expert on someone."

"Same could be said about you. Maybe you just got off on the wrong foot. Maybe all these hard feelings mixed with the grief of losing someone you love has made you point fingers in her direction."

Olivia's eyes returned to those dark, hateful slits. This time, though, they didn't soften. "What, do you want to fuck her or something?"

Nesryn tensed up behind him. All his goodwill shriveled.

"No," Noah replied adamantly, coldly. "We are friends. And I won't have you speaking about my friend like that. Now, if you're done, please leave. It's been a long night, and we need to sleep."

Standoffs in cowboy movies had been less intense than waiting for Olivia Edison to make her move. It was like trying to gauge a wild tiger or a rabid raccoon. Noah didn't want to admit he was scared of a woman half his weight and height, but there he was, trying not to sweat bullets while she stared him down with those crazy eyes.

Then, the eye contact broke. All the fight left Olivia, leaving her tired and sagging. Broken.

"Looking forward to that obituary," she mumbled under her breath.

The door slammed behind her and her maid, leaving Nesryn and Noah in the shadows.

"Well, that was fun," he snarked.

Noah let out a long, frustrated breath. Nesryn remained eerily calm, rooted to the spot.

"Why didn't you tell me about what happened at the press conference?" she asked. She didn't have to raise her voice or shed any tears for Noah to know she was upset. This time, the swarm of hornets in his head turned on itself, knowing he was the cause of this particular hurt.

"Because I didn't want you to worry." It was a lame excuse, but the only one he had. "To be fair, I tried to go looking for you the morning after but your room was empty, and I ran into Geneva again on the way, and I...yeah I know it's bad. I suck. It was a bad call. I'm sorry."

"I wasn't in my room because I was doing yoga in the atrium. Which you would have known if you had texted me."

It wasn't even worth saying his phone died, because he kept a charger in his pocket. He learned super quickly that those things were worth more than diamonds or gold. A couple of his roommates had already asked to use it. One even tried to steal it, but Noah managed to sneak it back while he was napping.

"So you're allowed to worry about me, but I'm not allowed to worry about you?" Nesryn continued, her anger quickly surpassing her sadness. She crossed her arms over her abdomen and started to pace. He didn't like how far she was from him. He didn't like the look on her face. "Noah, I worry about us every single minute we're here. I can't just turn it off or make it go away."

"I know, I just didn't want to add to the pile. Besides, Geneva had it handled."

"Geneva," Nesryn repeated flatly. He expression shuttered closed, arms fell to her sides "Geneva had it handled."

"Yeah."

"By punching people."

"No. It wasn't like that. Olivia had it all out of context and..." Noah trailed off, knowing there was no good way to salvage this and that it was past the time to tell Nesryn a play by play of the night's events. "Look, it was stupid and I get it was a stupid decision. I won't do it again. It's just that sometimes, when I get in my head - "

Nesryn shot her hand out, a small fist pressing into his abs, a silent command to stop. Noah immediately shut his mouth.

"I'm going to bed."

"Okay. Let me get the lights and we can - "

"No, you just...stay. Here."

The fist on his stomach clenched and unclenched, her knuckles turning white to pink, white to pink and back again.

"Nes..."

"I'll text you in the morning before breakfast." She kept her gaze on the floor. Then, she removed her fist and left him stumbling, reeling without an anchor. "Goodnight Noah."