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Chapter 12.

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Declan's POV.

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Rejection was not something I was used to. This woman… she had ripped me apart with so few of words. She didn't even seem to care. It was so easy for her to say:

"Not now, not ever."

Never is a very long time.

I walked out of her room feeling like I was walking out of her life for good. Though I understood why she had said it, it still hurt. I lingered in her doorway, looking at her once more before I turned the corner. I meant to say something more to her, some sort of futile protest, but she looked so determined that I didn't dare.

She only spent a day or two in the infirmary, getting minor blood transfers every day and when she had a high enough count she was out. I spent two weeks healing and still I felt like crap when they said I was good enough to go. She never visited me once.

After that, every day it seemed like I was only walking further away from her world. I woke up, went to work at headquarters and she wouldn't even look at me. It was like I wasn't even alive, much less visible. I wished hard for her to look at me. Sometimes people would catch me staring when I didn't realize I was. I would sit and send telepathic messages to force her eyes to look in mine. I would concentrate so hard, trying to will her head to turn my way. It never worked.

Not once.

And every time it didn't, it was another scrape on me like a cheese grater was rubbing against my internal organs.

"You had better watch yourself, Declan," Roberta warned one time when she had caught me staring at Zhen working with Reggie on some paperwork filing. Zhen's figure looked nice when she stood like that: like a crane poses when it rests a foot.

"I know I will be," Roberta finished with a strong hint.

I snickered at the blond.

"There's nothing left to see," I mumbled with regretful sorrow and left her sight.

Late at night, when my day's work was done, I would walk in the door of my apartment, set my keys on the kitchen counter, stare down at the tiles and wonder what the hell had happened to me.

I came to the provocative conclusion that she was slowly killing me… and she was doing it very consciously. Maybe she had even planned this torment from the moment we met, who knew?

I was free before she came along. I was living the life, with an unpredictable, high paying job and a future in it. Even after she came along, still, I was fine. She was a small daydream easily put aside, a mere distraction that I readily ignored, if that.

But now… her rejection did something inside me. It made me come to the cruel realization that she was one woman I must never have. Yes, because she was an agent, but because of something else too. Something much more serious.

It was because of what she meant to me. Because she was the only woman I really wanted. What I was feeling-- it was very real and I knew it.

And that scared me.

What was really pathetic about it was that I didn't even have the guts to let her know.

Day after day we passed each other in those empty halls and her gaze would fall anywhere but on me. Time after time I would stare when I was supposed to be listening to briefings or updates. Was it really so hard to look me in the eye? Why wouldn't she just look at me? Was she afraid of me? Questions plagued my mind like the Ebola virus.

Oh yeah, she had planned this. There was no other explanation for this perfect of a torture.

"Declan?" Luther would say, jolting me back to the present. "Are you still with us?"

"Yes," I muttered quickly. "I'm listenin'—I'm all ears."

"Glad you could join us," he replied with a strong warning, and pulling his threatening gaze back to the projection screen.

"Lucas sent us a present today," Luther announced first thing when everyone was settled in the briefing room. "All nice in a pretty bow and everything."

"What kind of present?" Martin was the first to ask.

Luther stepped up to the table and slapped a piece of paper down.

"A traceable email. She's playing with us."

"But why?" Zhen wondered. "Another set up?"

"Oh, it gets better. The email came from here. Either we have another traitor on our hands or she knows where we are. I am so tired of this woman and her game that we don't know the rules to."

"What did the email say?" Roberta demanded, grabbing one of the papers Luther had thrown down.

"'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed," he read from the paper. "When not to be, receives reproach of being, and the pleasure is lost, which is so deemed--"

"--Not by our feeling, but by other's seeing," Zhen finished.

And that's when it happened.

Zhen was looking at me when she said that, like the poem had some sort of hidden meaning that I wasn't aware of.

But I didn't dwell on it. In fact, I lost all thought entirely. Zhen's eyes had finally found mine, just for a slight moment. She looked at me with such a sorrow, or even a longing, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. Her face fell back to the emotionless expression she kept handy and the moment was gone so fast I wondered if it had really happened.

I decided that it most definitely had.

It was enough-- enough to keep me going. It renewed a hope in me that was lost. This story was not over yet. It was a good feeling that overwhelmed me all at once.

"What are you all smiles about?" Roberta snapped when she noticed I wasn't paying attention again to the report, but my smile couldn't be wiped away by her anymore. Not by anyone, really.

"I'm just in a good mood, is all," I replied with another grin.

"You know the poem, Zhen?" Luther asked in surprise. "Where is it from?"

"Shakespeare," she replied calmly. "Sonnet 121—Little known, but one of my favorites."

"What does it mean?" Martin asked.

"It means she's giving herself permission to be evil. She's living this way for the thrill."

Zhen put her head in her hands with frustration.

"She's nothing more than a common monster."

"Oh, the worst kind," I agreed. "She's not in it fer power or money. She's in it fer pure pleasure."

"You can't possibly think that she's doing this because she's bored," Roberta said with disbelief.

"Oh, she has to be vengeful too now," Zhen said. "After what we did to her boyfriend back in Paris."

"You outsmarted her too," Luther agreed. "She must like the challenge of you and Declan. Of all of us, really."

"Did you know that this high-priority, hit list woman had a thing for you, Declan?" Martin teased, shoving me with his shoulder.

"No," I lied with deep sarcasm. "I had no idea whatsoever. I guess when you get yourself captured and get poison needles jammed up your butt it sort of fogs your flirt radar."

"And what's your excuse the rest of the time?" Roberta scoffed. "Or do you always screw up missions and get yourself caught?"

"Maybe if you weren't so chicken and you went on a mission every once in a while you would know, Bobbie."

"Not all of us feel the need to play the hero 24/7, Declan."

"Makes sense. I could see how it would be more fittin' fer you t' play the villain."

"Now, now," Martin refereed. "Children. Do behave."

"I am 'being have'," I insisted. "Talk to miss 'panties in a twist'."

"Oh, get over yourself," she snapped.

"You first."

"Guys!" Luther clapped his hands loudly to stop us. "Com'on now. I thought you got all of this out of your system."

"No such luck," Roberta mumbled.

"Anyway," Luther said with a threatening tone, telling us that we had better quit now or suffer consequences. "Zhen just informed us that when we were in Paris, Lucas hinted a lead to her."

Luther pulled out another folder.

"Lucas told her that the answer to what she was looking for might be in her background profile stored in our archives. This is what we found."

He pulled out a piece of paper and read:

"Graduated training in 1989, majoring in the fields of snipers school, stealth infiltration, human psychology, and explosive chemistry."

"Well, what does that tell us?" I asked.

"Hold on, I'm getting there. After that she got promoted to field, and then was a lead pointman and one of the best retrievers on record. She could find anybody, anywhere. A few years back, she was the person who located Ethan's parents when he was triggered for a molehunt."

"That was her?" Roberta said, obviously impressed.

"She was very attached to this job," Luther explained. "People said that it was all she cared about. That was the reason she got fired. She cared more about the thrills and getting the job done than her own teammates, and later, her squad."

That's when it dawned on me. Luther saw my expression change and nodded in my direction to say I was now on the same brainwave as him.

"I see now," I said excitedly. "She's not in it fer a product… she's in it fer--"

"Stickell," Agent Conroy said with a loss for breath, poking his head in the room with a flushed face. "It's Reggie… He's been shot."

All manner of previous conversation was immediately forgotten. It seemed like everyone began to ask questions and rush to the door at once, including me.

"How did it happen--?"

"--Is he alive--?"

"--Who in the world would--?"

"He's alive," Conroy answered as we walked. "They took him into emergency care right away. He was shot just outside this building."

I caught on quick, and stopped in my tracks. The others did too.

"Was he sniped?" I asked.

Everyone caught on too after I said this, and looked intently to Conroy for the answer.

"Seemed like it," he replied with confusion. "Why?"

I met Luther's eyes first.

"She's found us."

"Hot damn," Luther replied with amazement. "She is good. Lucas has found the new headquarters. Someone notify Brassel."

"I'm on it," Conroy promised and then left down the nearest hall.

"Do you think she had us tracked or followed?" Zhen asked to anyone who would listen—which was really only me.

"You heard what Luther said," I told her as her and I walked down the hall to our assigned rooms. "She can find anyone. That's what she does."

"But why snipe Reggie?" Zhen went on. "Why not wait for us before giving away her location?"

"Maybe it was a warnin' shot. Maybe she has bigger plans fer us. Who knows really? I hate getting in the minds of madmen."

"God, I hate the French," Zhen declared.

I narrowed my eyes at her.

"What?" she asked as we hurried on down the halls.

"My father was French," I explained. After an awkward silent for a moment or so, I reluctantly let it go.

"Of course, he did beat you and then leave you with your mother when you were ten," Roberta had to add.

Zhen whirled her head at me with eyes narrowed. I knew what she was thinking, what she wanted to ask even though she knew the answer. Why did Roberta know this? Why didn't I tell her? I shrugged it off, letting my expression tell her we'd discuss it later. That's when we heard a noise. A song playing—which sounded like 'chopsticks'. That's right: that annoying song beginners play at piano recitals.

Zhen looked embarrassed.

"It's me," she explained, and threw her gaze down at her pocket. It was her company cell phone. Why would they be calling her now? I thought to myself. She's standing right here.

"Answer it," Luther commanded.

She sighed, flipped it open and held it up to her ear.

"Yeah?"

Then her eyes grew wide.

"Lucas?"

Everyone else's eyes grew wide as well as they recognized the name. Martin hurried to the nearest desk to grab a tracer program. He motioned for Zhen to stretch out the conversation as much as possible.

"How did you get this number?" Zhen asked Lucas as switched the phone to speaker so we could hear.

"Oh, I'm sure your lovely little head can figure it out," she replied on the other end. "After all, you do work in the same company I did, learned all the same things I did… You have to be sharp with me. You guys were a little behind in schedule though—guess I gave you more credit than you deserved. Anyway, I called so that Mr. Martin can trace this and you guys can come on down to pay me a visit again. We had so much fun last time. So since we have about forty more seconds to kill--"

Zhen looked at me then, with a strange look in her eyes that I hadn't seen before. It wasn't fear in them at first glance, more like the eerie absence of fear, but somehow I could sense the raw terror that hid behind them. She and I both knew what was coming next.

"Put Agent Gormley on the phone, would you?" Lucas's cheerful voice rang out through the speaker.

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Sorry it's been so long! As I'm sure you all can empathize, summer has been quite spontaneous and vacations have come in all shapes and sizes. Anyway, please review and tell me what you think.
Signed,
--RedRogue

PS. To FlamingMushrooms—I would still like your revisements, but since I took so long with this chapter I thought the readers deserved to get it as soon as possible. Sorry for that, and do sent it back to me soon.