A/N: This chapter marks the halfway point for this series – hope you like it!
Connie didn't move an inch, legs firmly in front of her, back straight, cup of tea in hand. It didn't matter than anyone who passed looked at her with pure loathing. They didn't know anything about her, just that she must be worthy of these stares because she killed Ben Kaplan.
She very nearly got away with that one.
Connie wouldn't lie in saying that it was pretty, and she never really had a taste for blood despite what people said. Blood had to be shed, but very rarely was it all over her hands - not just metaphorically this time.
If she hadn't killed him, he'd be in the Grid today, trying to figure out what the hell Tiresias was with the rest of the team.
His body would be in the mortuary, twenty six years of age and lifeless.
Day and night seem as one when in a cell – Connie discovered this pretty quickly. She didn't harbour a childlike fear of closing her eyes and being absorbed by darkness; rather, she didn't want to give them the satisfaction of knowing of her exhaustion. She wasn't young and full of energy anymore – the Service had sapped that from her years ago.
The tea here was just about drinkable, warming her hands which had so recently been covered in cold blood. She may have betrayed this country, but at least they had decent beverages.
Connie wondered about the Team and allowed a tiny smirk to play with the corners of her mouth. Very soon, Viktor and Harry would be sitting down to a game of one-upmanship, a match which Connie longed to be able to witness.
The guard who had brought her the tea was wearing a watch that told Connie the time was brushing eleven pm. It would not surprise her if Lucas were to still be pacing the Grid at this hour.
It was a shame, really. A kid with that much potential having his life ruined. Oh, yes. Because of Connie.
A damn shame.
Rosalind would be there too, probably. The guilty don't often sleep, and that one had committed her fair share of atrocities. Perhaps that's why Connie liked her so much.
She was demurely sipping her third cup of tea when her visitor arrived early the next morning. Connie had studied every corner of this MI5 holding centre and concluded that it was thoroughly boring - at least her interrogation at Nemworth would liven things up a little.
She fixed her eyes on his face in a terrifying stare which she had mastered after years in the Service.
"I know you. George Redman, counter espionage."
His words were boring, causing Connie to turn her head away in disinterest.
"You'll be charged with treason-"
"And the murder of Ben Kaplan, yes" she said matter-of-factly. Tell me something I don't know, she thought bitterly.
She needed to wriggle free of this mess and thought that killing Ben would be the way to do so.
But now she was on her way to life imprisonment, and a dead boy lay in the mortuary of MI5.