A stiff anxious feeling is what awoke her more than the daylight that seemed to drown the entire room in unwanted light. She found she was alone in the room, but then again she recalled a shifting weight upon the bed just when dawn started to break a few hours ago. She didn't think anything of it, but she was rather hoping for his company on this morning. Not that she blamed him. Today was the day his decision had to be made and she was sure he wouldn't want to be burdened by sentiment for her.

She removed her aching body from the bed. For someone who wasn't tortured very routinely in her time here, she had gained many scars and bruises and found herself sore far too often. It was a change compared to her usual tedious routine of waking up soundly and sleeping in the same manner without human contact for days, so she questioned whether she preferred her old life to this exciting new one. Perhaps she should have taken Jim up on his offer than risk getting killed…

She scooped up the robe at the foot of the bed after standing and closed up the front of it as tightly as she could, reminding her of the silk restraints digging into her the previous night and suppressing a grin. She knew she shouldn't have considered that a pleasant memory, but in his defense it was followed by one slightly more pleasing.

Turning around, she walked toward the window, looking out at the vast emptiness around the compound. Vibrant green grass swayed to and fro, and trees lined the far distance where the road most likely was. She was sure that the compound was practically unnoticeable, or at least surrounded by similar ones on either side to seem inconspicuous. Jim Moriarty was flamboyant, but he wasn't stupid.

The door behind her opened and shut with a slam. She closed her eyes, knowing that this was the moment of truth: the life or death moment in which she would either have everything she ever wanted, or nothing at all. She swallowed hard and turned around.

A man stood there, tall and muscular with a hardened gruff face. He was most certainly not the man who brought her food and water on a daily basis.

"Pleasant morning," she started as his eyes glared at her face.

His response was reaching into the inside of his jacket and pulling out a .44.

Of course, Jim wouldn't be able the one to do it. Instead he sent this detached lackey. She let out a heavy sigh and approached him until she was about a foot away. "Go on, then."

He lifted his arm up and aimed the gun to her forehead. She clenched her hands and awaited the shot. Instead, what she heard was muffled footsteps outside of the door. The man turned in his head in confusion and she took this moment as an opportunity. She grabbed his gun arm and twisted it behind his back , making him fall to his knees to make his neck more accessible to her so she could put it into a chokehold until the man had passed out from lack of oxygen.

Breathing heavily from the struggle, she let the body drop to the floor right before her bedroom door was kicked open with violence. In walked many men clad in all black special operation suits, guns ready in hand as they scanned the room around her.

"A little sooner would have been nice…" she panted out.

"You were fine on your own," a dismissive voice rang out. The men parted to let the authoritative figure through.

She rolled her eyes at his presence. "I hadn't expected you to come," she said to Mycroft.

"I've been waiting for this day for quite some time. I couldn't help myself," he responded, taking in his surroundings with distaste.

"You're welcome, then," she said assertively.

"I am rather curious…how did you manage to get a signal out to us from here?"

"I have my ways," she replied, eyeing him as he scanned the room and made deduction after deduction, figuring out almost every second of activity that went on in there. She could see the disgust etched clearly upon his face, but Mycroft's judgment of her was the last thing she cared about at the moment. "Mycroft Holmes, I endured pain beyond anything you've ever felt for your precious project so I think I'm more than deserving of my house in the Hamptons, don't you?"

He opened his mouth to speak when of the operatives emerged from the restroom and said, "Sir…ma'am…there's a message in here for you."

She and Mycroft both exchanged brief puzzled glances as they rushed into the room. Everything had been untouched save for the mirror above the vanity, which now had writing scrawled across it in black marker.

Clever girl. Enjoy your retirement. And tell Daddy Holmes I'm not quite done with him yet…

JM

They both stood there processing the words when another operative entered the room. "Sir, the compound has been scaled and we've detained a number of accomplices, but no sign of Moriarty anywhere."

Puzzlement turned into heavy panic. The silence in the room was thick anxiety. When Mycroft finally turned to her, his eyes blazed with a silent fury. She wasn't sure if the fury was directed at her or it was a general frustration of having been so close to something he's strived toward for so long before having it snatched away from within his grip. Not that she cared for Mycroft's anger. She was far too busy trying to figure out how Jim could have possible figured out her ruse.

"I suppose we're done here," Mycroft finally said aloud slowly. Anthea walked in after him carrying folded clothes. "Get dressed. There's a car waiting outside to take you back to a safe house."

"To a safe house?" she fumed. "I've had bones broken, bruising down to the bone, and scars that will never heal because of this, and you want to back out of our deal?"

He kept his composure throughout her rage and calmly responded, "The deal was not that you survive this mission; it was to get us Moriarty, which you failed at. Not only that, but you compromised a significant portion of information with which Moriarty is bound to use to terrorize this nation, so you actually managed to make matters worse. So yes, you're to go to a safe house, and then await my arrival to brief me on every bit of information you've given him. I think we're done here." He curtly turned upon his heel and left the room before everyone followed, leaving her alone with her disgrace.

Now clad in a formal pantsuit, she walked through the halls that were littered with operatives searching for any possible secret escapes. She eventually had to ask someone how to get through this maze to the exit, as she hadn't realized just how large the estate was.

After finally finding the exit, she looked out upon the scene in front of her, a dirt roadway now littered in black armored vans, and stepped into the Rolls Royce that pulled up directly in front of her. The second the door was closed and she ensured that all the tinted windows were up, she let her composure fall apart.

Burying her face in her hands, she let out shaky breath after shaky breath, allowing her stress and anxiety to wash over her in waves.

This was not the predicted outcome at all. There were many possibilities, but this was far from all of them. Her first assumption was that she would be put through more extensive torture and ultimately killed, whether she informed or not. When that didn't happen and she was given a task to do, she sent out a brief distress call. Her expectation of that was that Jim would be immediately apprehended and she would be sent of to live her own life in Alaska or something. Instead, she found herself unable to keep her hands off of him.

She couldn't help but contemplate how long Jim had known about her betrayal. Had he been pretending this whole time also? Clearly he had to have known the previous night throughout their intimate relations. She thought about how it could have been the reason why he had been so angry coming into it, but thought otherwise since he eventually warmed up to her. So that left the fact that he knew about her betrayal all along, and didn't care one bit because he was already ten steps ahead of her.

She couldn't help but feel like a disposable puppet, being played by whomever chanced upon her. It was a tennis tournament between two players, Mycroft and Moriarty, and she was the ball, being used with different shots by each. She should have just let Moriarty's man kill her when she had the chance.

She finally brought her head up and rested it against the window. She was tired, the kind of tired that no amount of sleep would not cure, so she sat in that position inattentively for the duration of the ride as a dull landscape passed her by.

When the car's movements began to slow, she brought her attention back to the world around her. They stopped on the tarmac and the driver got out to open the door for her. When she stepped out, she looked upon the small white jet in front of her but found something to be slightly off. There was no one else on the tarmac, which was odd since she was always accompanied by executives to escort her. This jet was also a far newer model than the government, even MI6, could afford.

She looked at the man in confusion. "Where is this jet going again?" she asked timidly.

He smiled at her. "To Brazil, ma'am."

She studied his face and asked, "You don't work for Mycroft, do you?"

This earned a toothy grin from him. "Not on most days."

"But he sent someone to kill me," she argued.

"Boss does like to be dramatic."

She couldn't wrap her head around what was happening and found herself unable to move until she had figured out the situation. "Why?" was her final question.

"He said you two made a deal."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

She felt a grin appear on her face as all fatigue fled her, and she moved toward the aircraft like a holy man toward heaven. She sat down in the black armchair in front of was a tabled littered with falsified documents, legal paperwork, and a good amount of cash to get a life started with.

All this had more than likely caused a significant amount of trouble to obtain, and she was shocked that Jim Moriarty had gone through all the inconvenience just to keep a deal he made with her what felt like ages ago. Although she knew it didn't come from sentiment, she couldn't help but feel a little compassion toward the man. At least more so than she did coming into all of this.

Looking back, she thought of regrets throughout her lifetime. Her first regret was joining the army and turning into the hardened person she had become. Accepting a job with MI6 had become another. And she was sure throughout her years, there were tons of small regrets that added up to where she ultimately landed. Ambition had led her astray from the kind-hearted, charitable woman she could have become. But one thing she could not regret was her time with Jim Moriarty. Sure, it was a cold, toxic relationship that never had any future, but here she was given a second chance to change it all, thanks to him. And in the end, just when she started warming up to the idea that death was finally a better option than her sheltered life, he had saved her. And for that, he would forever hold a place in her highest regards.