I apologize for the fact that the last chapters were short (every had around 3000 words), but in a way they were supposed to be - they are like shreds of memories, a little retrospection. This is the last chapter about the past of John and Irina. From the next one we jump in the timeline of FC5. I hope that at least a few people liked the story - I'd like to read some reviews from you to know what to improve! Enjoy.

She was not annoyed. She was not angry. No. Irina was balancing on the edge of devastating rage, carefully hidden in her body, though she didn't know why she was trying to hide it, actually. She wanted to throw herself at John and kill him. He destroyed her life, which was fairly stable anyway. He deprived her of any balance and treated her like a puppet. And apparently it was a great joy to him. When she was pulled out of her car and taken to the police station, she was furious. And when she was suddenly released, she was already fully absorbed in her own anger. And when she saw the face of a young lawyer, smiling mockingly at her, only a strong push away from the policeman escorting her stopped her from throwing herself at the man who hadn't even moved. All the time he looked at her with his blue eyes full of sick satisfaction.

Irina was taken straight to his apartment. She didn't wanted to wonder how the hell Duncan had such good contacts. Is it possible for one lawyer to be able to have half the police in the city in his pocket? Or maybe he had only one high-level friend who dealt with everything? It's funny how much man can do with money. You can even buy power for them, which was quite impressive. And irritating at the same time.

He practically pushed her into his apartment, simultaneously grabbing her arm as she almost fell to the floor. She broke free from his grip almost immediately. He let her do it. He closed the door, and hid the key in the depths of his coat, hanging it away. The girl literally trembled with rage, strands of blond, messy hair glued to her face. She stared at him from under the lightly squinted eyes, clenching her teeth and fists.

- What the fuck were you thinking? - He asked in disbelief, looking at her. He stood at the end of the corridor leading to the entrance door, as if to prevent her from trying to escape. Wonderful. She was imprisoned. In his apartment.

- One more word, you sick fuck. Just... One more word. - She hissed, clenching her fists even harder. Her fingers were almost white, like snow. They could easily compete in this respect with the lawyer's perfectly straight, shining teeth.

- Spare me your cheap threats, girl. Answet my question. What you wanted to achieve? - His voice was so calm so... Melancholic even. It was unnatural, it was sick, it was twisted. She hated him for everything he had done to her. Carter took one step forward, watching his reaction. But there was none. He didn't move, didn't smile, didn't try to stop her.

- You're stupid, or just pretending to be? - The woman was on the edge of crying, but with all her strength she tried to stop the tears falling into her eyes. She couldn't do it now. She couldn't cry, not with him, not here, not now. She couldn't give him more satisfaction. He won anyway, like every single time. But no. Not anymore. - I was trying to free myself from you and from this city, you moron!

- Calm down. - He murmured and also made step forward. It was her turn to react, but she also didn't move. Not because she didn't wanted to, because she did. But her legs refused to do anything. Even her body turned against her. - Why were you trying to do that? Nobody tried to hurt you, nobody threatened you. I guaranteed you security.

- Excuse me? - She gasped in shock. - Who choked me few weeks ago? Who threatened me with a prison and humiliation? When the fuck did you guaranteed me security, because I don't recall that and I never felt safe since I met you!

- I did it because you tried to break the rules. And you lied. You were not born in Ivanovo, no. You were born in Hope County, Montana. Your mother died due to complications a few days after giving birth, so your father, the ex-captain in the SAS ranks, which was true, took care of you. Did I missed something? - He asked rhetorically and made another very slow, but confident step forward. And another one. And another.

- No, you fuckin' didn't, but what is the point of this show? What YOU are trying to achieve right now? Because to me it looks like you were just showing off. - She saw him approaching her, but she didn't have the strength to step back. Although she wanted to. The only thing she managed to do was to tilt her body back, but it didn't stop him. He came closer and closer, like a wolf sneaking up to the deer. To the lamb.

- And what did YOU wanted to achieve by mentioning my old name? Did you wanted to wake anger in me? Regret? Longing? We both act on our nerves, every day. We are two sides of the same coin. - He stopped, standing right in front of her, looking down at her. With strange calm, as if understanding. But at the same time she saw something disturbing in the depths of his eyes. Something that was always there, as if dormant. Spark dancing around the powder keg.

- Stay back. Leave me alone. Let. Me. Go. - She hissed softly, like a young viper. But he saw the truth. He saw in her the fear and delicacy she was hiding behind the curtains of malice and cynicism. He knew, however, what she was really like. He could read people. They were like open books to him. He loved to open them, read them, pull out any information. Only to later use them for his own purposes. For some reason, incomprehensible for him, reading the book marked as Irina Carter gave him extraordinary pleasure. He loved to see how easy it was to influence her. He didn't have to try very hard, she gave in to him like an obedient cat. And he literally loved her for it.

- ... No. - He whispered, leaning over her cautiously. She felt his warm breath on her face, as when he was clenching his fingers around her throat, depriving her of strength and hope to escape, to regain her freedom. She felt subdued again, even though he didn't touch her. Yet. And in contrast to the confrontation in that dark, wet street, now she could make any move backwards or sideways. Even just to hide behind a couch like a small child, running away from the parent's anger.

- Let me go. Let me go, let me go. - Her voice was getting weaker and weaker, her whispering was starting to become almost inaudible. She felt a squeeze in her throat, tears streaming into her eyes. She was scared. She was afraid of him and wanted to escape from him. Now. Forever.

- Don't be afraid. - He was close, he was very close. Too close. His breath, calm and heavy at the same time, mixed with the chaotic whisper of a woman who was too afraid to properly reathe. Desperately, she put her hand on his chest, wanting to keep distance. She felt the muscles tense under her fingers and it was both a wonderful and chilling feeling. - Trust me.

- No. Never. - Irina felt that her protests would not do anything, but she wanted to try at least. John's face was just above her. Warm hands, hard and delicate at the same time slowly embraced her waist. Somewhere in the depths of her soul panic began to form. But it was too weak to free itself. Woman's body betrayed her again and stayed calm. And it was the worst thing she ever felt in her life.

- You're terribly stubborn, you know that? You're constantly denying everything. It looks like "no" is your life motto. I won't do it, I won't trust you or anyone else, I won't say anything. And so on, without end. Relax, just for once. If not for me, than at least for yourself. Unless you really like to watch yourself suffer. - His lips with a surprising delicacy stroked her right earlobe. Unconsciously, but still, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her chin on his shoulder, closing her eyes and swallowing hard. She gave up. Is this what the development of the Stockholm syndrome looked like? Was it truly the end?

- I hate you for what you did to me. I fucking hate you and I will never forgive you for it. - She murmured in his ear, her voice was heavy, eyes wet from tears. He chuckled and he hugged her even more tightly, as if he wanted to push her inside himself.

- I know. But that's okay.

And so she stood, leaning against him, the man she sincerely hated with her whole heart, and him leaning against her. In absolute silence. For very long time. They fell asleep together, in his bed, in their own clothes. And nothing more. He embraced her, and she did so as well. And nothing more.

"Yesterday at 11:54 pm the body of the missing daughter of Michael Abbot, director of the Atlanta bank was found. Clara Abbot was shot in the head by her torturer who turned out to be her father's brother, who had been recently diagnosed with serious mental health problems. Man commited suicide shortly after the murder of his niece. Michael Abbot refused to comment on the matter, cutting himself off from the investigators are still investigating the place where the crime was committed, looking for clues to explain the case, but there are suspicions that the girl was sexually assaulted by her uncle, and her constant rejection of his propositions forced him to such a drastic decision, which was kidnapping the girl and then murdering her.

According to the statements of the girl's colleagues, she showed strong homosexual tendencies and was in a quite strong relationship with one of her close friends. Investigators refused to disclose the personal information of Clara's potential partner, who according to the information gathered by the reporters is still sought after and probably still in Atlanta."

- Great. - She cursed under her breath, staring at the TV screen with her brown eyes. John stood next to her, adjusting his hair with his hands, which during the sleep lost their entire order and were now a tangle of slightly wavy strands of bitter chocolate, balancing on the edge of raven black. It all depended on the source of light, actually.

- I'm guessing that you do not feel like confronting the police and being interrogated. - He noticed sharply, as was his habit, peering at her out of the corner of his eye. The girl made a quiet, mocking sound.

- No, one meeting with law officers in a month is definitely enough for me. - She said, biting her lower lip lightly. She felt uncomfortable with the thought that she had spent the night in John's bed. With him in it. Fortunately, nothing happened between them, but the disgust remained.

- So, what now? - Lawyer asked uncertainly, as if he knew what the answer would be. He was staring at the side of her face now, but Irina didn't look back. She was more interested in the TV screen. Or rather, she pretended that she was because she didn't even listen to the reporter's voice anymore.

- I think you know. - She answered bitterly, turning to face him. - I need... I want to get out of this city, which you made impossible for me yesterday. So tell me what do you want because I don't have much time.

- You're saying that I didn't let you escape? - John's voice was a mixture of disbelief and amusement. - You don't really think that I sent half of Atlanta's cops after you? You asked for it yourself, speeding up to 170 miles an hour through the city center like a suicide stuntman.

Yes, he was right. In Carter's head came the words of the man from whom she was taking cocaine for John. "He's a lawyer, not a gangster."

- Alright, anyway... Ah, fuck it. I need to get out NOW. If they start checking my past, and I'm almost sure they've already done it, your dream will come true and I will end up in jail. So at least once try to do something good and don't try to stop me.

- You have very interesting moral compass if you clasify letting a potential murderer escape into something good. - He paused, seeing the woman looking at him with a mixture of fear and anger. - What? Don't look at me this way, you know that I have spent my time checking your past, just like you did with mine.

- Get to the point, I'm losing time! Will you let me go or will I have to... - She bit her tongue at the last moment and swore, seeing a wide smile appear on the man's face. She was on the verge of saying "or will I have to fuck you" but she decided that it was the worst idea she could come up with, so decided to stay silent.

- Or...? Come on, why do you stop at the most interesting moment? If you started threatening me again, then at least finish it. - He said, raising his head slightly, as if with superiority, and at the same time a challenge. Something like "come on, try to do something to me."

- Shut up. God, you're so irritating.

- I told you before, that isn't my name.

- Okay, I'm leaving. It wasn't nice to meet you, bye. Burn in hell, or something. - She sighed heavily, taking her backpack and heading for the door. She wondered what he will try to do next. Will he try to stop her? Attack her even? Or maybe just ignore the fact that she's leaving for good? She felt like she was playing a damn lottery.

But John Duncan didn't make any move toward her. He escorted her only with his enigmatic, blue eyes.

- I'll see you there, we will have a great time burning together. - Man said as a farewell, leaning nonchalantly against the wall.

- Fuck you. - She took the keys out of his coat, remembering that he'd left them there the previous evening and opened the door, throwing the keys in John's direction and giving him a last look. He was smiling all the time. Even when she slammed the door and left.

- Yeah, did that last time. I would prefer to fuck you instead. - He murmured to himself, turning his head towards the window, staring at the crowded city streets. Somewhere in the distance, police sirens could be heard. But that wasn't his problem. He didn't care. Not anymore.

The streets were crowded, oh they were. Full of people of all ages. Of course, everything became complicated just now, when the escape from the city was the most difficult to do. Irina sighed heavily and struck the steering wheel with her hand, as if hoping that the traffic jam would suddenly disappear. Nothing like this happened, however, the cars were still squeezing in the street. In the distance, the woman heard police sirens and panic started to arise in her. She put the hood on her head, as if hoping that that would allow her to avoid the eyes of the whole world. Fortunately, soon the sound died down and again the only thing she heard were the muffled sounds typical for a big city and the quiet purr of the engine.

She decided to open the locker in which she usually kept some money to see if there was anything valuable there. With only four hundred dollars in her backpack, it would be extremely difficult to escape somewhere far away, not to mention the beginning of a new life. Again. Inside, however, she found only a few coins, old receipts, and a picture of a redheaded, pretty girl. Irina closed the locker, swallowing hard and resting her hooded head on the back of the car seat. She wanted to press the gas pedal and just rammed everything and everyone along the way, leave it behind and forget.

In the end, she managed to get out of the city center and immediately drive towards the borders of Atlanta, not worrying about slight violations of speed limits. She felt the vibrating of her phone, hidden in her pants pocket, but she didn't intended to worry about it now. Soon the mysterious caller gave up trying to get her attention and everything went silent again.

And after three hours, the woman finally left Atlanta behind her, heading north-west. After a few stops, she finally reached the outskirts of quiet, peaceful Montana, so that she could finally rest, without a need to worry about John, or anybody else.

Oh, how wrong she was.