CHAPTER 26
PROVE A DEAD BITCH WRONG
"I'm ready!" Emily announced, now fully dressed after her morning shower.
Richard gave her a look, unsure what she meant.
"For St. Tropez. Let's go." She cleared it up for him.
"Maybe it would be better to leave in the afternoon." He replied, after looking at his watch and making a mental calculation.
"Oh, no way. We are leaving now." She insisted, omitting the fact that she was now fully paranoid over the possibility of someone wanting to cut her in pieces. Staying in one place for longer than a night was not an option, especially if she went by Lauren Reynolds in those hotel registries recently.
"But it is a seven-hour drive from here." He wanted to leave, but the timing of it was a bit off. He wants to take his time and enjoy the day, maybe go have a walk outside.
"So?" Emily smirked.
"So, it's seven more hours of driving." He shrugged lightly, not wanting to mention still being a bit tired.
"Oh, please. You have yet to experience my mad driving skills." She smiled innocently. Truth to be told, she had none, but that didn't mean she was not able to fake having skills. Did it?
"Don't get this the wrong way, but no one drives my car." Richard loved his car like it was his child and he always felt really protective of it.
"Don't get this wrong, but I'm not the kind of person to go on a Cinderella rollercoaster ride on the other side of the world, with a man I've never met before. And yet, here I am." She smirked. What Emily Prentiss wants, Emily Prentiss gets. Period.
"But…" He tried to argue.
"Plus…" She said on top of his voice, preventing him from saying anything else. "You already said I'm not an ordinary person, so, really, if you think about it, no random person had ever driven your car, but how cool would it be if a very extraordinary woman gets to drive this baby around? Huh? This way, whenever you drive, you'll think of me. Although, I could see a few future problems arising with that. I mean, hello awkward situations the next time you have a beautiful lady in your car. Hmm." Emily was borderline awkward. Sometimes she was unable to realize that she had overstepped every single boundary when it came to being an awkward human being.
Richard bit his bottom lip, not knowing how to react. He wanted to laugh, but that might seem like he was being rude. He also wanted to cry, on behalf of Emily, because she was just…too much.
"You screwed up big time, Princess." She muttered to herself, in thick manly voice, as if a very dear to her heart ex-colleague of hers was right there, saying those words to her, like he had done many times before.
Emily then frowned. Thinking of how easy it had been to share details of such awkward situations and then laugh about them with Morgan, made her feel extremely upset. She missed him, more than she ever realized. She even missed the stupid little things that he did, just to annoy her. Like this habit of his of throwing little paper balls at her when she was trying to focus on a case…ugh, she hated it. And damn, she missed it. So much!
"So, uhm, let's go then." He said after a long moment of awkward silence.
Emily uttered no word after that. Until they were outside, standing next to his car.
He tossed her the key and was surprised at the insanely quick reaction she had when she grabbed it.
"For real?" She tried, oh-so-hard, not to let that silly smile appear on her face.
"For real." He smiled, instead. "I guess if I ever let someone drive this beauty, it would have to be an extraordinary person. So, it only seems fitting."
"Cool!" She said, trying to figure out when exactly did she become a car enthusiast. The Emily Prentiss that she was until a few weeks ago would drive a supermarket cart down the street, if it were legal, and she wouldn't even care, just as long as the thing moved and got her from point A to point B.
"God, please, I beg you, don't let this be the end of my car. Or me." He muttered to himself, in French, not believing for a second that Emily was a good driver.
Sitting behind the wheel, she quickly realized the problems of driving a sports car, in a town, even if it was a small one.
"Oh, come on. MOVE! Get out of there! Seriously?" She yelled at some random car that was blocking her from taking the road to exit the town and take the highway.
"It's France, what can I say?" Richard laughed, enjoying every second of Emily's misery.
"Well, France sucks right about now. MOVE, YOU PIECE OF-…" Richard put his hand on her knee before she could finish that sentence. The first part of what she said was referred to him. The second one, however, she yelled as the window was rolling down while she was giving another driver a very icy cold stare.
"It's called traffic. Don't you have it in…uh, where are you from?" There were so many things that Emily never told him about herself.
Then again, he never spoke about himself either. Somehow, it worked out perfectly between them. But didn't that also mean that they were just enjoying each other's' company without any intention to continue, once this week was over?
"The United States." She stated the obvious, as she didn't want to specify a city or even a State. "And yes, we have traffic, but I don't have a sports car. So, it's different."
He laughed, rubbing her knee and trying to get her to calm down the fumes that were coming out of her ears.
"Don't give me that look." She commented, ten minutes later, as they were still stuck in the town. At this hour, everyone was in their car, on their way to work.
"I can't help it. You just look so sexy when you are mad." He suppressed a smile.
"Oh, you'd find me absolutely irresistible if you knew me in real life, then." Without thinking much about her wording, she just blurted it all out.
"So, this is not real life then?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Pff, not even remotely!" Emily laughed.
"Tell me, what is Lauren really like?" Emily shot him a glance as she heard his question and noticed how beautiful his eyes were. Damn French men, she could never resist them, unlike Italian ones.
"Well, the real me…" This time she worded it better, not calling the real version of herself Lauren. "She is a control freak. A workaholic. Occasionally a bitch, too. Actually, a lot of the times. She likes to think that she is taking care of others, but fails to realize just how much harm her actions can do to the people she loves. As you already know, the real me leaves at the first possible chance she gets. She abandons and she doesn't look back. Sometimes I wonder why people like me at all? I mean, do they really? They sure seem to like me, but I don't get it. I'd hate having a friend like me, in my life."
"Wow…" He exclaimed disapprovingly.
"What?" She said a bit snappily.
"Well, that's nothing like what I imagined you to be." He then saw her give him another look and then he noticed a car driving a little too close to them. "Eyes on the road!" He urged her to be careful, for both their safety…and for the sake of the car.
"See, this is why I have a screwed up car, so I can lean in and give this asshole a good scratch on the side of his flashy red car." Somehow Richard figured that she was only half-joking with that statement.
"See? This is the kind of person I imagine you to be. Strong, confident, bad ass who kicks ass. Sure of herself. Very intelligent, a quick thinker. Problem solver. A woman who would be considered as the light of the room. Someone who makes people laugh, who puts you at ease and who can start up a conversation with just about any type of person. Reliable, I think your friends love and respect you mostly because of the fact that you are probably the most loyal and reliable person they have ever known in their lives. I think the real you is very modest, but deep down inside she knows exactly what she's worth, and that's a lot. She knows how beautiful she is, both on the inside and on the outside. But she also is very wary of perceiving herself as a good person, as she doesn't want to be bigheaded. She would rather belittle herself and say the words you just said to me, than let herself believe how awesome she is. Because if she did, there would be no turning back. And that, combined with the fact that she is a workaholic and a perfectionist, would only mean that she would have to apply even more pressure to herself, with everything she did, afraid of the possibility to lower down her own standards, to let people down…to let herself down. You said you like to take care of people, so maybe this is your own way of taking care of yourself. Instead of thinking about you, you prefer to make others happy and this is what gives you satisfaction. I suppose you have tried to do little things that make you happy, but you quickly realized that it was nothing, compared to the joy of putting a smile on a friends' face instead. So, you present yourself as someone who doesn't care about herself all that much, but in reality, the more you help others, the more you show how much you are in need of helping your own self. It's become your routine and you can't help it. It's your addiction. And I think you leave people in the moment when you realize that helping them is hurting you and helping you is hurting them. So, you leave, you disappear and you don't look back, because you know that you better hurt them by leaving, then destroy them by staying. Because this, in my humble opinion, is what an amazing, strong woman looks like. And I believe you are the closest representation of that image. I just wish you knew it, too." Richard spoke without taking a breath.
Emily was now all tensed up, her fingers were digging onto the leather wheel and her heart was pumping at the speed in which the car was going – fast.
"I swear to God, this man is a fucking profiler!" She thought to herself, silently freaking out.
The real Emily would have found ways to argue with Richard's statements, but Lauren couldn't. She remained quiet and the only sign of life was the blinking of her eyes, as she hit the highway and also - the speed pedal.
In her mind, she replayed a few of the most memorable moments when she had left someone. Strangely, what Richard said about leaving them, instead of staying and causing them more pain, applied to every single scenario.
However, there was this one time she left – the time that hurt her the most. And she was unsure if her decision had been good. It had been years ago, but it still hurt, as if it were just yesterday. She remembered her last words to that person and she remembered her reasons for leaving, but she wanted to know one thing – how would her life had turned out if she hadn't left them?
Suddenly, she felt tears in her eyes. She could not control her breathing and she made the conscious decision of pulling over at the first possible chance, to switch places with Richard.
"Hey, what happened?" He noticed her negative reaction, but it was hardly about what he said. Initially, she didn't seem to feel anything. It was only after she deep dived in her memories that she felt so upset.
Emily got out of the car and started pacing a little bit. After some consideration, Richard decided to get out and check on her.
"I'm sorry if I upset you." He whispered, but as he turned to face her, he realized she was battling her own daemons.
Emily gulped and blew off some air that she had been holding in since the last time she inhaled, a minute ago. She shook her head, mentally trying to shake off her thoughts, but it did not work.
"And to think I got excited, thinking this was a spontaneous highway stop for some more kissing." He chuckled lightly.
A joke, as lame as this one, was the last thing she wanted to hear at that moment.
Weirdly, it worked.
It made her chuckled a bit too, and right after that she burst out in tears.
"Mon petit…" He muttered, wrapping his arms around her.
"I'm a horrible person." She said with desperation in her voice.
"So am I." Something about the way he said it seemed a bit off. However, she didn't care to ask him to elaborate on that.
Angie woke up on Friday morning, sweating, and yet feeling extremely cold. There was one possible explanation to that phenomenon, one that she would ignore for as long as she possibly could.
She skipped the morning shower and jumped into her workout clothes before heading to the gym. It was chilly outside and she felt lucky to have indoors training that day. That did not mean that she felt any less sick while doing the various exercises.
Their trainer from last week was back and he seemed a little less nice to Angie. She was now used to people treating her like crap and, when she felt like crap as well, she simply did not care who or in what manner spoke to her.
Bryan only greeted her with a wave and then he stood to the side, with his new male friends. His idea was to make Angie realize that, in order to feel good, she had to take care of herself, and in case she was unable to, then she had to let her friends take care of her.
He watched her suffer for two hours, knowing that even if he was by her side, she would not let him help her with any exercise. She needed time and space and that was what he gave her.
After the training, he saw her sprint towards the restrooms. He waited outside, for a good ten minutes, before she walked out, paler than he had seen her before.
"You are not paying me any more food. Is that understood?" She said snappily. "I've been on my own my whole entire freaking life and I am still alive. Hence, I do not need, nor ask for, your pity. So, if you are here to nag me about lunch, forget it and move out of my way."
"I'm not here for that." He said, although it was part of his reason to have followed her.
"Good, then you can hold my hair." She said calmly.
"Huh?" Bryan did not understand her statement until he saw her turn around and re-enter the bathroom, holding her hand against her mouth.
Like a true friend, he held her hair, as she leaned over one of the toilets one more time.
"I hate seeing you like this." He stated once she could breathe again.
"Get used to it, bro." She shook her head, knowing very well how hard she was going to push herself in the Academy.
"If there is anything I can help with, do you promise to tell me?" He asked weakly.
"Yeah, I guess so." Angie winked at him, unsure if she would actually ever ask for help. "But, please, don't make me feel like I'm under constant observation. I've always been independent and I hate feeling undermined."
"You got it, babe." He winked back jokingly.
"Eww, call me Babe one more time and it would be the last word you ever pronounced." She laughed.
Angie hated it when people made sexual jokes about her. However, she knew that Bryan was just being a weirdo, so it wasn't that big of a deal.
They headed off to their first class of the day, which was once again Criminology. It was the third class of this kind and they had been asked to finish one of their books by today. Being as busy as they were with everything else, almost nobody gave the book much importance. Some trainees had started to read it, but nobody had managed to actually finish it all.
"Alright then, third class has come and that only means one thing…" Their professor seemed oddly devilish. "Please, leave all cell phones and tablets in the bins that you will find at the back of the auditorium. Grab a folder from my desk and take a seat, bringing only the folder and a pen to your own desk."
"Holy shit, if I ever wanted to be back in high-school, it would be because of the cheerleaders, not the blitz tests. Goddamn!" Bryan muttered to himself. He had read the book and he had paid attention in class, but he didn't feel prepared to sit an exam on the subject.
"Oh, yuppie, gimme tests, gimme more!" Angie clapped her hands enthusiastically and earned herself a look of disapproval from other trainees around her. The professor also noticed her happy mood and he was more than eager to crush it.
"You have two hours to finish 90 multiple choice questions plus two open questions about a fictional case. Good luck." The professor explained and the first trainees started to grab their folders from his desk.
"Sir, are we allowed to manage our time as we please?" Angie put her hand up, but shot her question before the man would even notice she was trying to get his attention.
"Yes, Miss Hunter. Do whatever you want with your time. I don't care." The man rolled his eyes as he replied to her.
"Okay." She smiled. "Sir, may I ask for a favor?" She added quietly, walking over to his desk, to ask him in private.
"Something tells me you will ask, no matter what I say. So, sure, go ahead." He was a bit cranky that day and she was getting on his nerves.
"Can you, please, wake me up after 30 minutes? I mean, I would have set my alarm, but there's the whole no electronics rule, so yeah. I'm not feeling well and I could really use some rest or I'd flank that exam. Please, Sir? I'm not trying to be rude, I just want to do well, but I need to rest." She was somehow too cute to get a No for an answer.
He thought for a moment. The way that Angela spoke made it sound like she was being honest. She was modest and a bit shy when making such a weird request, but in the end he decided that if she needed to ask for it, then she really must have needed that rest. He had been asked worse questions in his life. Also, just by looking at her pale face, he knew she was not bluffing, so he shrugged and said Ok.
Angie then made a pillow for herself, using her bag, and as soon as her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.
Thirty minutes later, the professor walked by her and nudged her shoulder.
"Trainee Hunter, it's time to fail your first exam." He said with a smirk.
"Oh, on the contrary, Sir." Angie rubbed her eyes lazily. Her cheeks were now a little more rosy-colored than before and she felt a tad bit better. That nap was everything she needed. "It's time to rock it!" She added cheekily.
Opening her folder, she read intently and analyzed every word and situation. Without wasting much time, she crossed the right answers and moved on to her open questions. There was a case to be read and then the questions were about the type of investigative style that each one of the trainees would apply, if they were an Agent.
Angie spent a little more time on those, since she found the multiple-choice part of the exam easier. She was now almost on-par with her classmates, who were just starting to read the case as well.
"Damn, you even write like a Barbie." Bryan laughed when he saw her calligraphy.
"Shut up." She hissed at him, not wanting to get her test annulled if the professor thought they were discussing that, instead of her handwriting.
Angie managed to be among the first ones to hand in her test and the professor tried to hide the fact that he was impressed. At first, he thought Angie was playing smart and undermining the importance of the exam when she stated that she'd be sleeping, but then he had noticed her pale face and he had figured that the girl made a good choice on how to manage her time.
Bryan handed his test in about five minutes after Angie and he walked outside, finding her laying on the grass.
"How well did you think you did?" He started small conversation, since it was still awkward between them.
"Spectacularly well, if I shall say so. You?" She pat the ground, urging him to lay down as well.
"Meh, not too bad, I guess. Some of the questions were stuff that I've already had to deal with in SWAT, but others were just tricky as Hell. So, I don't know. I guess I was average." He replied honestly, now lying next to her.
"I have to go." Angie noticed that it was time to start her job at the ballistics section. Normally, she would be excited about it, but that day she didn't feel like doing anything.
"See you in the second class." He waved at her, feeling extremely guilty over the fact that he was about to go get food while she was going to work, so she could afford the same. But he respected her wish, for now.
Angie spent only about an hour, cleaning guns and making sure everything was ready for pick-up, whenever the Agents needed their weapons.
As soon as the guy handed her the ticket, she was sprinting towards the closest cafeteria. The piece of paper got her a nice fresh salad and a ham and cheese sandwich with mayo. For dessert she grabbed an apple, ignoring the amazing aspect of that tiramisu that she spotted on the counter, near the fruit. Her drink of choice was a Coca Cola, against her own belief that it was full of sugar and thus, to be avoided on a daily basis. She needed the sugar and every drop of caffeine she could get for free, in order to survive the day.
Speaking of caffeine, she decided to head to the main building and go grab herself another free coffee from the lounge.
One more time, she felt like people were watching her, as she tried to fit in and go unnoticed. This time it was proving to be harder, as she was wearing her Trainee uniform, but she did not care. Free coffee, and maybe two more cookies, would trump any last bit of self-respect she had left.
"Trainee Hunter." The man she had previously met at the Lounge greeted her loudly, making sure everyone would turn around and notice her.
"Hi." She smiled awkwardly, holding all of her lunch food in one bag, in one hand, and a large black coffee in the other, clutching on to two big cookies with her pinkie finger.
She wondered if this man slept there, since he managed to bother her two out of the two times that she has been there. Then, looking around, she realized she saw the same exact faces from before. Was that why everyone was staring at her? Did everyone know each other there? Was she not supposed to be there?
She didn't really care much, since she liked the cookies. The coffee was bad, but free, which she also liked.
"How is the Academy going for you?" The man asked casually, his hand making a swift motion, urging her to take a seat as one of the big sofas near them just became available.
"Good." She shrugged, placing her goodies on the small table in front of them, as they were now sitting next to each other.
"Still bored?" He kept on asking.
"Well, if I had to be honest, it is very anti-climactic. I mean, I've wanted to do this for years and I guess my expectations were way too high, I get that. But, it's just…weird. Some of the classes are structured in a very useless way. So far all we've done is listen, but when are we going to do stuff? I mean, I love reading books and learning new things, but I'm a girl of action, I can't just sit on my butt and expect to read about the right way to handle a crime scene, can I? Plus, we were handed compressed air guns for the first and only field training we ever did. That was just…not cute. It's like the teachers think we are a bunch of idiots who cannot handle themselves in a professional FBI-working environment. And, honestly, people are talking. We don't like the way we are treated. I overheard some Trainees already want to quit, not because they cannot take the heat, but because of the overall structure of it all. People constantly look down upon us and it's annoying. We all bust our asses 24/7, we barely even eat and sleep these days, we do our best to challenge ourselves and to be better, in order to prove that we belong here. But, no matter how hard we push, it's like, it doesn't even matter, you know? I, for one, ain't quitting. Angela Hunter is not a quitter! I'd rather stay here and be bored out of my mind, starved and sleep deprived, than quit and live my life knowing that I had a shot at my lifelong dream and then I screwed it up. But, I swear to God, if one more teacher belittles me, Imma flip a switch and stick his all-knowing face in the toilet until they apologize!" Angie spoke calmly, honestly, with passion.
The man narrowed his eyes. He most definitely did not expect to hear all that, especially not with those words. She was honest, brutally honest.
"Okay…" He trailed off. "Is there anything else you dislike about the Academy?" He added sarcastically, but Angie took it for an actual question.
"As a matter of fact, yes!" She crossed her hands against her chest. "Budget cuts! I mean, what the heck!? It's the FBI, it's a government institution. Do you really not have enough money to fund our studies? Can we use that as an excuse one day? Like, if someone gets killed during a mission and we can just shrug and be like: Sorry, Sir. The Academy didn't have enough money to teach us how to deal with this kind of a situation, we don't even know how to use this gun, because we were playing with toys while studying, so oopsie, you is dead, yo!"
The man laughed genuinely. This girl got balls and she was not holding back.
Somehow, she didn't seem rude or obnoxious about it all. She spoke from the heart and the man knew he was getting the truth, the rough truth. He wasn't used to people who'd be honest, so he understood how her words might possibly come off wrong, but he also understood her. And she had made a damn good point about the Academy, slacking. He actually agreed with her point of view and he knew that she had not been exaggerating about how things were going, but unfortunately his hands were tied.
What made him curious, though, was whether this girl would still have the balls to tell him all that, in such a brutally honest way, if she knew who he really was?
"I understand your concerns, Trainee Hunter. However, the budget is not something I can comment on, as it does not depend on me. You can take that concern to the Director and he would be glad to discuss it with you." He suggested and Angie rolled her eyes.
"My goal is to stay as far away from that guy as possible. Or all of the major birds in the FBI, really." She shrugged, bringing her coffee cup to her lips and taking a sip, followed by a wince. "I tend to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, like, all the time. I don't want to rub the Gods the wrong way, you know?"
"The who?" He tried not to laugh one more time. He had a reputation of having a stern look on his face and this girl was not going to ruin that for him.
"The Gods. You know, the big birds who flock together, dress the same and walk around like they own the Bureau." She said before taking a big bite of one of the cookies, to counter the awful sharp taste of the coffee.
Also, looking around as she spoke, she realized she was kind of surrounded by them, at the Lounge.
"Oh, those people. Gotta hate them. So stuck up and rude, right?" He said casually.
"Exactly. I don't like them and I don't think they will like me. Which, really, is quite upsetting, since I'm a very cute and bubbly girl and literally everyone likes me. But I ain't taking chances with the Gods. I've bust my ass to be here and I will continue to do so until I get my badge and some sort of respect. After that, I will bust my ass five times more, so I can be the best version of myself and also an Agent that the Bureau would be proud to have. There are no Gods in my fairytale story." She smirked.
The way she spoke, it sounded naive, but the more he analyzed her words, the more he realized what she stood for.
Young. Spirited. Outgoing. Brutally honest. Hard-working. Extremely highly motivated. Smart. Opinionated. Why wouldn't the Bureau be proud to have someone like her hold one of its prized badges?
The man received a phone call and it was obvious he had to tend to it immediately. He stood up, placing his hand in the air, as if to excuse himself, and he walked off.
Angie shrugged. She didn't care if he left or stayed. Free treats were why she was there anyway.
Five long minutes later, Emily finally managed to stabilize her emotions. If she didn't know any better, she'd be freaking out over the possibility of being pregnant, with all the weird mood swings that she had been experiencing ever since Garcia drugged her. Accidentally, of course.
"I don't like crying." She whispered, still in his arms.
"Nobody does, but we all cry." His hand pulled her in before it trailed down, resting at the small of her back, while his other hand rolled up and started to play with her hair. "Crying takes the tension off, it helps you clear your mind. Keeping things inside of you is only going to do you harm. So, there is no shame in crying, remember that."
"Why are you so nice?" She chuckled. "Also, why do you sound like a shrink?"
He laughed as well. "I've been told to be a nice guy."
"I can see why." For a moment, she pulled back, just enough to be able to stand right in front of him, taking a good look at his face.
The next thing she knew, he was kissing her. Or she was kissing him. She did not fully understand where that came from, but it didn't matter anyway.
A car drove up, slowing down as it neared them. Someone from inside the car yelled "Get a room!" at them, in French, and it made them burst out in laughter.
"Why don't we?" Emily suggested.
"Lauren, you're messed up…I don't want to-…" He started off, Mr. Nice Guy and all that, and Emily stopped him before he would embarrass himself with the 'I don't want to take advantage of you' speech.
"I mean that I'm tired. I'd like to drive some more, but maybe it's not the best idea to keep going right now. My eyes are closing, I could use a power nap. I'm too old for a field trip." She smiled, feeling his hand travel down just a tiny little bit, now cheekily resting over a very specific bone of hers.
"Oh, well, in that case, we are about half an hour away from Lyon. It's a beautiful city by the river Rhône. It's actually the capital city of the Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes region. It's quite big, I'll show you around. There are so many local delicacies to try. Oh, mon Dieu! Rosette Lyonnaise, saucisson de Lyon, andouillette, pistachio sausage, coq au vin, gras double, salade lyonnaise, lettuce with bacon, croûtons and a poached egg, marrons glacés…" When he started to enlist all the typical local foods, Emily had to stop him from speaking.
"Shh!" She put a finger against his lips and he went silent. "I don't know what turns me on more – your sexy French accent or the sound of all these foods."
He laughed genuinely.
Emily then smirked, mentally recalling her days at the Interpol and her brief relocation to the Lyon field office. She had loved the city and the food. However, she'd let him think that it was her first time there, just for the sake of watching him try really hard to impress her and to make her have a good time in a city that, he thinks, she's never been to.
They hopped in the car again and drove off. Lyon was on their way to St. Tropez, so the highway they were on was already going to take them there. This time it was Richard who drove.
On their way, they made another stop, at another small town. They had the whole day, or better yet – the whole week, to do whatever they wanted, so seeing something new felt like the right thing to do.
They walked around the town for a bit and Emily found it to be similar, yet different than the previous one they had visited. Her curiosity had no limits.
The best part of it was the way he held her. Because, whenever he had the chance, he'd hold her, touch her, interact with her in so many ways, not just physically. And it wasn't in that overly creepy way, like he'd come off as grabby or possessive. Everything he did felt right, moderated…somehow even calculated, although that was not how she interpreted it.
After a few hours of exploring, they found themselves back in the car, on their way to Lyon. It was starting to get dark outside and Emily remembered one thing – she had previously needed a mid-day nap. However, that walk, with that man, had given her the energy she needed throughout the day. Those, plus a coffee, but it was really Richard who was keeping all of her senses awake.
Entering the beautiful city of Lyon, Emily looked out the window. She loved a big city at night. There was something so magical and mysterious about the lights and the darkness. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a few seconds, picturing all the great memories she had from Lyon already.
Richard knew his way around and he drove straight to a hotel that he liked very much. Five-star, luxury, as Emily had suspected.
She also wondered, how come he said they had the same exact job, and yet she was on the verge of going broke, while he was living his best, lavish life? Obviously, she knew that the job comparison had only been a metaphor. There was no way Richard's job would be anything like Emily's.
After the check in, they both took a shower and jumped in the bed, realizing how desperately they needed to have some rest.
Emily was exhausted. Usually, she'd be the first one up, late at night, urging everyone else to go out, have drinks, have a good time. But ever since Garcia's little stunt, Emily had been experiencing the side effects like crazy. Even though the doctor had warned her about them, she still never imagined she'd be so emotionally unstable and physically tired.
"Lights off?" Richard asked when he saw her yawn for the third time as they were watching some French TV show, in bed.
In the same bed.
Emily was itching to make an oddly sexual joke out of his words, but she decided it was best not to do so.
She nodded and he switched the lights off. A minute later she was snuggling by his side, her eyes closed and she dozed off to sleep.
Richard, however, found it difficult to sleep. He spent the next hour just thinking about some stuff that he had been struggling with for the past few days. He felt his heart beating a little faster, each time he tried to force himself to think that it did not depend on him and that he simply had no other choice. It did not work. Anxiety took over him and all he could do was to stay immobile and allow her to get some rest, while his mind took him to deep, dark places that he was unable to get himself out of.
Apparently, Emily was not the only one fighting some inner daemons.
"Yes?" A man said grumpily as he picked up the phone on his way to the elevator.
"I was just talking to her." He continued.
"Uh-huh. She came over to the Lounge." His index finger pushed the elevator button and he started pacing around as he waited for it to arrive.
"No, no. Absolutely not. On the contrary, I think you should push even harder." He smirked devilishly.
"Which floor are you at?" He asked, walking in the elevator.
"Alright, come by the elevator. I'll be there in a minute." He said before cutting the call short.
When he stopped at the 4th floor, the door opened and he saw a familiar face.
"Dan, my friend!" The man smiled.
"Hey man." Dan replied, giving him a fist bump.
Apparently, the two of them were quite the pals.
"So, is she a Go?" Dan asked curiously.
"Oh, she most definitely is." The man replied as they both made their way to an office, so they could discuss the matter in private.
"Good, but I also want Bryan in on that." Dan had an idea and he really needed this man to give him the green light. From what it looked like, the man was the one pulling the strings and Dan was sort of a puppet, without much authority.
"I don't know, Dan. He seems a bit lost. I really don't want us to waste our time and energy on someone who doesn't look like he'd fit what we are trying to achieve here." Ben shrugged and he did not seem happy about Dan's idea.
"Look, I know we originally wanted one. But they kind of go as a package deal. We can't have her without having him, as well. They perform brilliantly together. I want to push them hard and see how they would react when their whole world comes crumbling down. Will they stick together? Or will they point fingers at each other? Plus, I know Bryan seems a bit lost, I agree with you on this one. However, he's been through a major trauma right before joining the Academy, so maybe we should cut him some slack. I want to give him the chance to come out of his shell, to show us what he's really worth. Damn, I'd love to see him come out of Angie's shadow, honestly. For now, he seems to follow her around and do as she pleases. But, can we change that? Is he able to evolve? Plus, he's a 20-David in LAPD's SWAT, this dude has mad skills already. He'd be just perfect for our little experiment. If we can crack him, we would be doing ourselves a favor. And I know that two subjects cost twice as much as what we are already struggling to pay for, but trust me Ben, it will all be worth it. I have a pretty good feeling about those two, they fit what we need and when we are done with them, they wouldn't know what had hit them. Trust me." Dan smirked.
"You talk a lot." Ben rolled his eyes. "You had me at package deal."
"Seriously? So, they're both a Go?" Dan's enthusiasm made him sound like a young schoolboy, excited to get permission to go on his first school trip with his little buddies.
"Yes, Dan, both Angela and Bryan are a Go. If, however, either one of them compromises our mission, your head and badge are on the line. Am I clear?" Ben sighed, still a bit unsure, but he decided to trust his old friend's hunch.
"Thanks, man. You won't regret it. I promise!" Dan nodded in his direction and walked over to the door, as he had to attend the afternoon class.
"One more thing." Ben stopped him before he could open the door and leave. "How did she do on the test?"
"Oh, apart from the fact that she had the nerve to ask the teacher to count down 30 minutes for her as she slept before she would even open the folder with the exam papers…" Dan laughed. He had gotten to know Angela a little bit, from what he saw from afar, and he was still getting surprised by the random silly things she did and the ease with which she got away with them. "She nailed the damn thing. She got a 100%, not even a comma missing from her open question answers. I'm telling you, man, this girl is it!"
With those words, Dan walked out.
"Push harder then!" Ben called out after his colleague, unsure if Dan even heard those words.
He did, indeed. And he was eager to comply.
The afternoon class was quite good. Angela learned a lot of new things and she, for once, was not upset about wasting precious time.
"Bobby, hi!" She waved at her new friend as she saw him walk over to one of the DNA analysis machines.
He waved back, but then made it clear that he wasn't going to hang out with her, which was quite upsetting, as she actually liked him and thought he was super smart.
"Is that our sample from the woods?" Bryan asked when Angie pulled a cotton swab from a little plastic container.
"Yes, a different swab, though. I figured we should give this one more shot." She busied herself, preparing the thing for analysis.
This time she'd have to do it all on her own, with just Bryan by her side.
When their test results came up, later on in the class, she frowned.
"That's the same result we got last time. Same DNA, just…not like anyone else's DNA." Bryan commented.
"Oh, wow. That's it!" Angie had a revelation and she typed something on the computer they had near them.
She searched for a specific type of DNA and then compared it with what they got on their screen.
"It's not human DNA!" She finally said it. "It's animal blood."
"Oh, that would make sense. The dude taught us that we can analyze both human and animal DNA with these machines. What was that, the first class, right?" Bryan was unaware of how much he had been paying attention in class.
In high-school he had been completely different. He was the hot, popular guy from the football team, who attended class when he wanted to and who listened only to things that concerned girls. Excluding anatomy class, because that was boring to him. The 16-year old Bryan would find this brand new version of Bryan so damn boring. Yet, the new Bryan found the 16-year old Bryan so damn dumb and superficial.
"So, this is not proof of death. Amanda is just considered a missing person, as of right now. Even if it was human DNA, even if it was her DNA, we would still have no proof of death, since we can't accurately measure the amount of blood that was on the crime scene, so we can't calculate if she had lost enough blood to be considered deceased. Maybe she was just injured. And yet, it's not even her blood. None of the two swabs. So, that presents another option for our case: it could all be a hoax." Angie said triumphantly, also very silently, as she didn't want anyone else to hear those words.
She noticed Dan walking in the laboratory and she deleted the data from her analysis, pretending to be trying to figure out one of the machines near her. Faking being dumb was her specialty.
"Hello everyone." Dan greeted as he took a seat next to the professor.
"How's it going?" Dan asked.
"Good. They're all trying to figure things out and they're testing some new stuff that we've learned." The guy replied.
"You know exactly what I'm asking you about." Dan raised an eyebrow.
The man felt a little ill-at-ease. He started to adjust his glasses nervously and Dan could tell that his forehead was now sweating.
"Well, they are curious and they just wouldn't drop it." He replied vaguely, shooting Angie and Bryan a look.
"Good. That's how I want them." Dan smirked and then walked over to a group of Trainees, aiming to make their day miserable by intimidating them with his presence as they analyzed DNA from someone's saliva.
He did not go anywhere near Angie and Bryan. However, Angie noticed how he spoke with Jack for a few seconds right before Jack made his way to them, casually.
"Are you ever going to drop it?" Jack said to Angie in rude manner.
"No." She replied very calmly.
"It was an accident. Get over it." Jack sighed, showing absolutely no emotion for Amanda's presumed death.
"Look, we don't want to associate with you. Please, respect that and leave us alone before I smash your face against something." Bryan suddenly became a different man. He didn't do this to save Angie, he did it to get Jack away from both of them.
Angie smirked, watching Bryan finally start to have a voice and an opinion. She quite liked him that way.
"Oh, so you don't like me because your dumb little frenemy got herself killed and you somehow think it is my fault, huh?" Jack laughed and Angie considered the option of being the one to smash his face against something. The nerve this dude had!
"Don't you have anything better to do than to waste time and materials in trying to prove a dead bitch wrong?" Those words threw Angie over the edge.
Before she could even register what her body was doing, her left fist flew to Jack's cheek, making him take two steps back from the punch.
Everyone was now staring at them and Angie was all about giving them a show.
"Amanda is dead, okay!? Have a little respect! Yes, it is partially your fault she even strayed away from the group. But I guess it's not entirely your fault that you were raised as a spoiled brat, unable to show affection for another human being. You probably grew up in a broken family, possibly just with your dad, who was working all the time and paid you and your sibling no attention at all. That's right, if I had to guess, you have an older brother who never cared enough to hang out with you, so you had to do everything on your own - raise yourself on your own, entertain yourself on your own, cook for yourself and everything else. Guess what? So did I, but that did not turn me into an emotionally drained idiot. So, it's really your own fault, as we are all responsible for our own actions and words. And, in this case, it was your dumb words that made Amanda leave. So, yes, you are responsible for her death, you dickhead! Now, do as Bryan said and leave us the hell alone!" She started off cool and collected, but halfway through her speech she got excited and started to raise her voice until, by the end, she was practically shouting at the guy.
After that, she triumphantly walked out of the laboratory and sat on the first bench she found in the hallway, next to the ballistics section of the Academy.
Bryan followed her, a little confused.
"Did you not just tell me that Amanda might still be alive?" He asked curiously as he sat beside her.
"Yup, but that's our little secret. We need people to think we are clueless, so the culmination of this could be even sweeter." She smirked and opened the bag that she had managed to grab on her way out of the laboratory. She still had her fruit from the lunch and she was quite hungry.
"So, you just stormed out of the room, because you needed a quiet place to eat your apple?" Bryan raised an eyebrow.
"Exactly." She said before taking a soundly bite off the fruit and giving him a very content, sly smile.
