The crazy thing about being betrayed is, you don't just lose trust in people, you begin to doubt whether or not you can trust yourself, your judgment, and your emotions.

-Rob Hill Sr.

-/-

"I think there are undercover agents on the inside." After receiving the damming picture of Mary last night Syn found herself unable to sleep let alone stay still. She paced the flat all through the night, Arrow curling up in the bed and watching her until the first rays of sunlight began peaking over the horizon. It was then that she threw on the first pair of clean clothes she could find and began walking towards Scotland Yard.

"Ghost, it would be impossible for anyone to just slip in you know that." She grit her teeth in annoyance. "Bird, all I'm saying is that I think it's best if you and the others split up and get away from London until we know for sure. The whole point of an undercover is to be sneaky, these people could've been on the inside since we were activated." She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Number's says your just being paranoid because Sebastian's back." Slash said.

"Tell him he can piss off! I'm apparently the only one who has any common sense left! How do the red flags not go off when Mary Morstan, who is working for Mycroft at the moment to kill one of our most valuable business partners, talks with a man who was assumed dead a week ago? Let's not forget said woman also worked for Moriarty prior to his death. Christ I'm working with a bunch of dim fu-"

"I think what the rest of your team is trying to say is, everything is under control." She stopped walking. "General, I wasn't aware you were listening in." "I think it's in everyone's best interest if you just let this drop. Everything's fine, your just overthinking the situation. Everyone is completely safe and the base is one hundred percent mole free." Liar. He's lying to you. He's hiding something. "And who exactly is everyone?" There's a pause, its brief, not even a second long, but she picks up on it and the theory in her head continues to rapidly grow. "Don't look into this anymore. That's an order." The line clicked and she was left feeling more unsettled than she had in a very long time.

Her mobile began ringing again, this time it was Lestrade. "Where are you? I have a case."

-/-

She met Lestrade in the emergency room lobby of Bart's twenty minutes later. "Nadia Lourdes, 16 years old. House caught on fire early this morning. Her younger sister died in ICU about an hour ago, her parents we're pronounced dead at the scene. Her father was a very intelligent biochemist and her mother worked for Homeland Security, they were good people, no one had anything bad to say about them. It's a shame really." Satisfied that she had all the information she needed safely tucked away she gave Lestrade back his files and stepped into the darkened room.

The room was silent, the machines occasionally beeping and pumping and hissing, feeding the blonde medication that would only be able to relieve the physical pain. The only source of light came from above her bed but it was enough for Syn to see the features of the girl. Her green eyes were sunken in and bloodshot, fresh tear tracks visible on her cheeks. A few patches of white gauze covered the girl's arm where she had been burnt.

She gave the girl a small smile and pulled a chair up beside her bed. "Hi Nadia, my name is Sarah and this is Detective Inspector Lestrade. I'm here to ask you a few questions about what happened." She looked up long enough to shoot Syn and Lestrade a dirty look before returning to picking at the hospital sheets. "I already talked to the police. I don't remember anything and I don't want your pity. Please, leave."

"Good, I'm not here to pity you. I'm here to catch your families' killer." Fresh tears began rolling down her cheeks. "I don't remember anything. The alarms woke me and I smelled smoke so I ran outside." Syn handed her a few tissues from the box sitting on the table beside her. "Walk me through this last week. Did anything strange happen? Was there a party or anyone at your home you didn't recognize?"

"My parents threw a party. There were a lot of people in and out of the house this last week." Syn reached out and took the girls hand in her's. "Did you notice anyone who didn't look like they belonged or looked at you in a way that made you feel uncomfortable?" She shook her head. "I wasn't paying much attention and I wasn't at home very often during the preparations."

"I'm going to have officers posted at your door. If anyone who isn't a doctor gets through that door they're going to be arrested, okay?" She sniffed a few times, wiping the wetness on her cheeks away with the back of her hand. "Okay."

-/-

John just asked me to be his best man. –SH

You didn't see that coming? –S

No. –SH

You're his best friend. Who else was he going to ask? –S

I have to write a speech now. –SH

What am I supposed to say? –SH

John wants me to compose a piece for his and Mary's first dance. –SH

The wedding is three weeks away. –SH

You're panicking. –S

I'll help you when I get home, yeah? –S

I'm not panicking. –SH

She smiled as she slid her phone into her pocket and hurried to catch up with Lestrade. "Do you think the killer knew the family?" Lestrade asked. "No, he's too specific to know the parents personally. Look for someone who may have passed by, an IT guy or a handy man maybe, someone who could've been called to the house and someone who would've been at the house during the preparations. Whoever he is would've either visited their office or home more than once in the last month. Statistically speaking you're looking for a male in his mid-thirties who lives alone and is socially withdrawn." She took a moment to look over Lestrade and other than the fact he was talking to his ex-wife, again, she couldn't find anything out of the ordinary.

"Lestrade do you know what ever happened to Moriarty's body?" He stopped walking and shot her an incredulous look. "I think Mycroft took care of it. Have you asked him?" She looked up and down the hall and once she was sure there was no one close enough to hear, she voiced part of her theory. "There's something going on, Lestrade. Something's not right, I can feel it in my gut. Things aren't adding up since I've been back and I'm starting to think maybe Sherlock wasn't the only one to fake his death."

He ran a hand through his hair as he gave an exasperated sigh. "Syn he blew his brains out. He's dead. You can't keep living like this, just relax and live your life. This is what you've wanted isn't it?" Isn't it?

Of course but I'm supposed to be dead too. I was supposed to kill him. He wasn't supposed to kill himself. It wasn't supposed to end like that. There wasn't supposed to be a happy ending. I wasn't supposed to have a family or friends. I wasn't supposed to be happy.

"Yeah, yeah of course it is." He gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. "Why don't you go home and get some sleep? I'll have a few officers over here in a few minutes okay?" She nodded. "Yeah, okay. Thanks Lestrade." Maybe he was right. Of course he's not.

Her mobile buzzes in her pocket just as she's getting ready to leave. It's another picture message from the interested party. Unlike the ones before this one was black and white and grainy but she could make out three figures, one was obviously Mary, her short blonde hair giving her away, and the other was unmistakably Sebastian.

The third man, the one who was shaking Mary's hand, was shorter than Sebastian but still taller than Mary, his suit neatly pressed and expensive, perhaps Westwood but it was difficult to tell given the picture quality. Even though the picture wasn't stamped with a date and she can't see the man's face, fear begins to fester within her. She's being cornered and running out of options so she does the only thing she can think of.

She calls Magnussen.

-/-

Her shoulders are tensing and her back is beginning to ache from stress as she walks through the streets. She called Mary as soon as she finished talking with Magnussen and tried to come up with a reasonable excuse to see her immediately but after stumbling over her excuses repeatedly she settles on, "We need to talk."

Mary's waiting for her in the furthest corner of the pub they agreed to meet at, two beers sitting untouched on the table. Syn notices how she's bordering between Mary and AGRA and decides that it wasn't a particularly bad thing. "How's the wedding planning going?" She doesn't know if she should jump right in and tell her or if she should ease her way into it.

"You're not here to talk about the wedding so why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me why you're really here." Jump right in it is. "Why did you choose this life?" Mary reaches forward and takes a swig of beer. "Where is this coming from?" Syn takes a swig from her own beer, a bit surprised that Mary didn't take the opportunity to slip something in her drink. "A maid of honor needs to know these things." She said with a smug smile.

"I craved the danger." Syn nods, it makes sense. "I suppose a woman who was stuck caring for her mother for several years before becoming an orphan would crave danger," Annabel sits back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes in an accusatory manner. "I did my research Ms. Adams, however, I am curious as to how long you've been working for Mycroft." Her eyes, cold and calculating pierce through her. "That's none of your business."

Syn takes another sip of her beer. "That's true, but it became my business when you decided to let John Watson unknowingly play pressure point so you could get to Magnussen." Her head tilts to the side as she gauges Syn's reactions. "You didn't tell Sherlock did you?"

"No," She scoffed. "It's only a matter of time before he finds out though but tell me, Mary, when did you first fall in love with John? Was it at the pool when John was strapped in the bomb jacket, or was it when you watched him lose his best friend through the scope of your gun? I'm curious as to which it is, maids of honor should know these kinds of things in case people ask."

She didn't call Mary up to meet her here and taunt her, no, that was just because she could, because she knew and it was just too damn tempting to let it go. The look of panic and confusion on her face made it worth it though. "Who told you about that?"

"That's the reason I asked to see you. It seems that there is an interested party that knows everyone's secrets and has proof to back it up. As someone who has been in a similar situation I think it would be best if you took your case to Sherlock before someone ends up hurt." Her face went blank as if considering Syn's suggestion but it disappeared, Mary coming back.

"Everything's going to be fine," she assured her. "Magnussen is clueless." Syn let her leave after that, something about flowers arrangements that needed to be tended to. Probably just an excuse to check on Magnussen's movements. She sits and finishes her beer alone, guilt festering in her gut despite her growing distaste for the woman.

As she's getting ready to leave an unknown number texts her. Meet at rally 2 at 22:30. We need to talk. –Bird. Shoving her phone back in her pocket she pays for her drink and heads for the nearest shop.

-/-

She comes home to a silent flat, not even the sounds of Arrow's paws coming across the carpet to greet her fills the flat. Instead, she finds Sherlock laying across the couch, fingers steepled under his chin, eyes closed, and Arrow, sleeping across his chest. "I save your life and you don't even greet me at the door," she grumbles as she deposits the two shopping bags in Sherlock's room.

Books are scattered everywhere along with various pieces of paper, some written on and some balled up and thrown into a pitiful excuse of a pile. The kitchen table is covered in Sherlock's latest attempt not to smoke, which looked to be blowtorching something. Picking up and dumping out Sherlock's cold cup of tea she found the eyeball that had fallen victim.

She has three hours until she has to meet with Bird so she showers and begins the process of covering up the scars on her arms and legs with makeup. There weren't many, just a few here and there, a burn mark or two, but she thought it would be better to keep them covered. The dress she bought was short and black, with one shoulder that covered the M on her back along with a majority of the scars on her back. What the dress doesn't cover her hair will.

She pins her hair away from her face and forgoes makeup considering where she's going will be dark and everyone will be drunk. She packs the small black clutch she bought with a stun gun, a few vials of sedative and a pocket knife since the dress and heels won't be able to conceal any sort of weapon.

Sherlock's awake and blowtorching something again in the kitchen when she finally comes out of the bathroom. "Sherlock, I'm going out." She walks into the kitchen to get a glass of water before she leaves and to make sure Sherlock had heard her. "Do you want me to bring anything back?" She turns to face him, his eyes darting between her face and the rest of her. "Where are you going exactly?" "I have a case," she explained. "I have to go to a club."

"You're working a case looking like that?" "You're right, let me just go change into my suit and waltz into the club. I'm sure no one will spare me a second glance then." She muttered sarcastically. "Are you afraid someone will try to chat me up and take me home for a quick shag?" When he doesn't say anything she begins to wonder if he thinks that's exactly what will happen. "Don't worry," she reassures. "No one would be stupid enough to take me home."

The club isn't far but she'd rather not walk in the heels she's wearing so she hails a cab to take her the few short blocks to meet Bird. She easily slips in the back and begins to wedge herself between the abundance of obnoxiously drunk people.

Bird is waiting for her at the bar and to anyone who didn't know her they would think she was just another woman left alone at the bar, but Syn can see the serious expression on her face and she knows whatever is going on, isn't good. "How bad is it?" The raven haired woman sighed. "Pike's put all of us on an even shorter leash and painted a bright red target on ours heads." Syn turned to the bartender and ordered the strongest thing they had.

"What made him do that?" "You. He's worried you're going to influence us all negatively, plant ideas of rebellion in our heads, I've heard you have a tendency to do that when you don't agree with how things are going." She smirked and downed the shot glass that had been placed in front of her. "I guess so. What else happened because I know you wouldn't bring me here just for that."

"You were right. There are people on the inside." Syn ordered another shot. "An agent who didn't exist until a year ago has been working closely with the General, going overseas and speaking personally everyone of significance in the criminal community. He's even been speaking with CIA, FBI, Home Land Security, and the President." A silence fell between the two as the news sunk in. "Jesus Christ, I should've known this was going to happen when I joined. This shit always happens." She twirled her shot glass around a bit before kicking it back.

"So, does that mean Pike wants Magnussen to be killed? He said he wanted me to drop it, not to look into it any more. What if Magnussen has something on Pike?" Bird straightened herself and smiled tightly. "I think you should listen to what he's saying. He'll kill your boyfriend and your family if he finds out you're looking into this anymore, that's reason enough to me to stay on his good side." She turned to leave but stopped herself.

"You're the lucky one, you have a life and friends and someone who loves you. Pike may say we're all expendable but in all reality, you're the only one who never has been. Do your missions as you're asked and you will continue to have military protection. The agent will be taken care of if he begins to draw too much attention to himself. Goodnight, Syn." She's left standing at the bar alone, her mind in overload sorting, processing, and storing information, her frustration growing and growing. Why tell her about the mole? Unless she missed something? She replayed the conversation in her head focusing on the emphasis put on words and facial expressions but came up empty.

She's on a short leash. She's being watched, most likely she was followed here. Caught the eye of a handler. Or Pike sent her here to tell you. You act, he kills. How much more blood do you want on your hands? Don't look into it and everyone will be happy. Don't tell Sherlock about Mary and Sebastian and he lives. You got what you wanted. A home where you're accepted as you. Don't want to be alone again now do you?

No.

God, no.

-/-

When Mary gets home the house is silent. There's a note on the counter from John; a house call is all it says. She empties her hands of grocery bags and fetches the post. There's a bill and a few replies to the wedding invitations she sent out, but one of the letters at the very bottom doesn't have a postmark. It's labeled, simply, AGRA. The other letters fall from her hand as she rips it open.

I know what you are. Bistro Pearl, 4PM.

She texts Mycroft: Magnussen knows. He responds immediately: Excellent. You may proceed.

She walks into the restaurant at the appointed time and finds it empty except for Magnussen, two of his guards, and a chef who looked as if he was going to pass out at any moment. The guards stand on either side of Magnussen as he eats, hands clasped behind their backs, looking bored. "Hello Mary," Magnussen says. "Or should I say, Annabel? Come, have a seat."

She tries to look panicked, it's not hard. She doesn't know how much he's uncovered about her. She listens as he lays out her childhood, the car crash that didn't really kill her parents, her trail of free-lance assassinations, her business done with Moriarty, and her part in his suicide. He tells her everything with a smile on his face as he eats his escargot.

"Tell me," he says, "What do you think Doctor Watson would say when he finds out these things about his wife? Excuse me-you're married yet-do you think he will still love you when he finds out?" The real panic begins to set in then.

"Please," She breaths. "Please, don't tell him." He beckons her over and she walks over to him. His wipes his mouth on the sleeve of her blouse and his hands on her trousers. "Tell me, how does it feel to be owned? Does it feel a bit…slimy?" He plucks a snail from his plate and drags it down the side of her face, down her neck, and down the top of her sternum before depositing it down her blouse. It leaves a trail of butter and garlic and slime down her torso. He repeats this a few more times, a smug look on his face the entire time.

She's shocked at how violated she feels just through this simple act. It's one thing to watch from afar, another to be the one experiencing it. "What do you want?" Her voice is trembling along with the rest of her and it's no longer a part of some convincing act. "Well, Ms. Adams, I have heard you have a cousin who's in Parliament."

-/-

Syn's not alone for long when a man walks up to the bar, taking the place Bird was at, pulling her from her thoughts long enough to look him over. 32, single, CEO, American, no pets, business trip, unarmed, overweight, untreated heart condition, right sleeve of an internet porn addict.

"You look lonely, mind if I buy you a drink?" She smiled sweetly and accepted his offer, call it a little experiment of hers (and hey, if he was paying she wasn't complaining). The American scoots closer when the drinks arrive and she has to fight not to back away from the invasion of her personal space. "You come alone?" She feels a hand wrap around her waist and smiles. "No, actually." The shorter man shoots Syn a dirty look as he stomps off. "You knew I was here?" She smiles up at Sherlock. "I could practically hear you running around trying to get dressed. I'm not going anywhere, you know. Not unless you decided to come to your senses one day and kick me out."

He smiled. "Let's hope that never happens." She pays for her drinks and follows him out. They walk in silence until they pass by the British Museum and she notices his gaze lingering, looking at the building with a hint of longing. "Do you want to go?" He looks between her and the building and she makes his mind up for him. "Come on, let's go. I've never been to a museum before. Please?" He tries to look serious about the decision but the smile spreading across his face tells a different story.

He's buzzing with energy when they get inside, the same way he buzzes when he gets a new case or when a case takes an unexpected turn. He begins by telling her everything he knows about the first few exhibits, and she even throws a few things back that she's learned in her travels around the world. Soon they're practically running through the empty museum and sometimes when she's not moving fast enough he takes her hand and drags her along.

They spend the most time at the Egyptian exhibit (it must be his favorite, she decides) alternating between silent observation and explanations and stories. "You know I've actually seen the Great Pyramids of Giza in person?" He looks at her with childlike awe. "Seriously?" "Yeah, I was passing through and I thought maybe it would help throw off whoever was following me. It was incredible Sherlock, I wish you could've been there to see it. Pictures do it no justice whatsoever."

They move through the exhibits slower after that, the smile still never leaving his face, until they're kicked out. During the walk home he continues to tell her things about the exhibits he didn't have time to tell her while they were there until they arrive back at Baker Street. Arrow greets both of them at the door, his tail wagging enthusiastically as he sniffs them over until he's satisfied they're both fine. Sherlock's playing his violin when Syn emerges from the shower and for the first time since she's been at Baker Street the melody is a happy one. She smiles and tucks away the night in her mind palace because she knows that this won't last. She knows what's lurking in the horizon, threatening to tear everyone apart all over again.

She knows this is the calm before the storm.

Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know what you think!