As much as I know the words I said hurt her, I make no such effort to find her and apologise.
What I said may have been wrong but what I'm busy focusing on more is the fact she had basically confessed to doing something for reasons I 'wouldn't understand.'
I would prefer to sit here at my desk and believe she's guilt free but I know that she's not... she can't be.
Convincing myself that she's innocent wouldn't bode well for me anyway. For a short while it would allow me to think about her in all the ways I want to.
The unholy thoughts of her skin against mine could be rationalised. I could, for a moment, give in to the desires I myself am still in denial of having.
At the end of the day all of the happiness will fade and one day I will in fact find out I was right after all because we all know there's no way she's innocent.
Even with no evidence I'm sure of the fact that she did something. Whether she killed him herself, had help or had someone do it for her she's guilty... she's our only connection.
If I prove it's her I have a chance at the promotion I've been dying for, for the longest time but I don't know if, despite how much I love my job, want to do that to her.
A small part of me just wants to get to know her, understand her a little more. Maybe she did do it and maybe she had an excellent reason.
Maybe she just wanted him dead.
Maybe just maybe she didn't do it at all.
The constant back and forth battle of did she, didn't she plays in my mind most of the day until my thoughts are disrupted by a phone call.
"Hello?" I answer the unknown call.
"Hey, it's Natasha."
"How did you- never mind what do you want?" It's pointless of me to ask how she got my number and I'd rather not talk to her for any longer than necessary.
"You still have my jacket, I want it back."
"You can pick it up from me tonight, I'll be home about 8pm." I tell her.
She hangs up the phone.
No smart remarks.
No stupid rude jokes.
I think I actually hurt her.
My heart twinges at the the thought 'I actually hurt her'.
Why do I feel guilty?
"Agent Y/L/N how's things going with the Russo case." Davies asks.
"Not great, we had one witness that said she saw a woman that looked like Natasha but she broke her glasses a week before the murder and her eyesight is beyond what a judge would accept as admissible evidence."
"Has she hand any contact with you other than the date?" He questions.
"No." I lie.
Why am I lying? I have no reason to lie.
"Do we have any results back from the lab?"
"Yes but strangely there's not a single strand of DNA, not one that's been picked up at least." I sigh.
"We're out of suspects and we have no evidence it was Natasha. Agent Davies I think we've reached a dead end. There's no more leads." I say to him.
YOU ARE READING
WORK FOR ITFanfiction
Natasha is an assassin on the run. Y/N is a FBI agent. Would it be so bad if they fell in love?