Define Valentine- sequel to Define Spy (semi-long hiatus)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The feeling I got wasn't butterflies; not even the zoo. It wasn't a shock, or a rush of adrenaline. It wasn't something you could very well arrange into words and let them spill out for a person to understand. It was more of like dominoes, I would call it.

First, one domino was tipping-slowly. A finger touches the first domino and it downgrades towards the next domino, and then the next and the one after that. It was what you would call a cause an effect; though I wasn't quite sure if I was the one first pushed that knocked down all the rest or the very last domino, who took the fall for utterance. I wasn't sure what he was considered as, either.

The pictures and movie-like day dreams didn't fade from my mind. Instead, to force out any kind of acknowledgment, I blinked hard and stared at the steering wheel intently for a spare second. I studied the rough edges of the swede fabric and then mustered up my physical (and mental) strength to lift up my chin and look him in the eye.

He didn't look that different, his expression always hard to read. His hair was gelled up in the same style, (I had never once caught it down) the honey color now fading back to chocolate brown. He was wearing his black uniform instead of silly school clothes that I had grown used to. The only change was a small scar that creased above one eyebrow; thin and sharp as the darker tinted skin shone from beneath the sun's indirect rays. It wasn't a gruesome cut like before. I didn't spot any dry blood or fresh marks. The scar was like a symbol of what had happened that night; a crude reminder to tell us all. Maybe we all were finally healing.

Then instantly the pictures barged back into my head and I knew that healing was irrelevant.

We were both solemn, but this time, I was the one to break ice that still needed thawing, as my eyes traveled behind his lank figure and in the distance of the nook of his neck. Squinting, I saw a single black car parked on the side of the highway of the Golden Gate bridge.

"How much time do I have?" the words stumble out of my mouth, but in a sincere tone that lacked any inferiority that could be noticeable. Yet when it came to him he seemed to sneak his way behind my mind and mix up my thoughts in imprecise order.

"About a minute." Cameron replied smoothly, the same explicit emphasis that I hadn't heard in a long time although somehow managed to remember its sound.

It wasn't even a nod, as I adverted my eyes away from his and searched my car for my gun that was tucked away in the small compartment on the side of the passenger's seat. The atmosphere felt thin as I took no hesitation to step out of my car, Cameron taking one step backward as if on cue.

"I'll call the tow service later." I announce unofficially to no one in particular, making sure to press the lock button of my keys that followed in a slight vibrate that tickled the bottom of my feet.

Cameron responds through a raspy whisper though it was a silent mutter that I barely heard. We took off in a sudden sprint without another word besides silence; which seemed to linger for quite a long time in between head-turning and foot-thumping. Our footsteps were inconstant, as it reminded me of two drum players trying to match a single easy rhythm but just couldn't.

I didn't dare sneak a peek towards Cameron, as our past of the last mission almost never existed; just a period of time that is now referred to 'yesterday,' as yesterday didn't feel like a long time ago, but we push it to the back of our minds anyway. I did spot my chaser though; as he was the ordinary face that I was expecting at the window of my car; not one of my old teammates who acts like a lone stranger in your presence. His was a face that you could easily forget, though I made sure it never tried to escape from my head.

What was going on? It's a question I'm used to entering my head as it's second nature. The thing that I stopped caring about was that there were too many unanswered questions to keep track of. They weren't things that you could right down or remember as easily as a phone number, they were the type of things you never thought of sharing out loud.

He shuffled out of his car unprofessionally and seemed to catch my eye at the same time I caught his; which were underneath those shades that were too dark I facetiously wondered if he could even see or if that was the reason for his misconfiguration. He paused at the door of his car, arched a delicate eyebrow, and turned sharply to the side of the road, his face expressionless. I couldn't tell if he was young or old, I couldn't tell if his features were sharp or soft. I couldn't even tell the color of his hair, as it must be matted under the gray beanie that envelopes his head and frames a blank face. I'm too concentrated on my chaser that I don't notice Cameron's risky glance once I let the sounds of the world around me back in.

Even though he knows that I have caught him staring as I raise both eyebrows dramatically in response, he does not look away.

"Your hair is black." he tells me as if also letting me know that my eyes are green, too.

"Your hair is brown." I respond candidly. "And yet still, you look the same."

"So do you." he shrugs his shoulders as we step up onto the sidewalk again, only a few meters from the black car.

I instantly cross paths with Cameron and pull the back seat door open, revealing two familiar faces that gaze back at me like those mirrors you would find at carnival fun houses. My minute was up, and as I crawled my way through the entrance, Cameron took off without any hesitation or warning, making me fall to the side and bump shoulders with my old teammates.

"Agent Valentine, nice to see you again." Johanna is the first to speak as the driving becomes stabler, and Cameron drives at a constant speed; and by constant, I mean the restriction of sharp turns and surprising stops.

"It's a pleasure." I say sarcastically, a dry smile stained onto my cheeks as I turned to look at Johanna. The only thing that had changed was her hair; now much shorter than it was before. It was cropped and framed her face, constructing articulate cheek bones that looked like belonged to some super model. I was just glad that Johanna wasn't actually a super model, or any model, for that case.


"Serena!" Tilly's voice echoes between the walls of an ICI vehicle. "I haven't seen you in forever!" The same cheery tone brings me to naturally laugh.

"It does feel like forever, doesn't it?" I reply, keeping my eyes focused on the yellow stripes that zoom past so agilely that it looks like they skip across the road in sync.

There was something about the mere ending of Fall that I had always unintentionally loved. I wasn't sure if it was the change in leaves; from ordinary green to an array of splattered warm colors scattered upon your feet as if almost creating a path for you to follow; like nature's art museum. Maybe it was the breeze, as summer droned out any feel of a challenge, a change. A new breath perhaps, that had finally awakened. Maybe I just adored it in the way a mother adores her Daughter. It's all second nature. Not the transition from Autumn to Winter itself, but what cycles that fall into the middle.

The window panes were coated in a sliver of frost that hardened everyone's mind. No one spoke for a long time as the only sounds besides silent voices was the wind, whistling weakly, off and on like the background of a song.

"So where's my beloved brother?" I do not turn my head, keeping focus on the passing clusters of grass that swayed briefly when the tires of our car swung past.

"Thought you would have the answer to that." Johanna was slumped against the other side of the window, her knees touching her chin. Her hair was tucked behind one ear, the other side shielding her eye.

"I don't have much of the answers." I tell her, my head starting to spin from the rotating roads and swishing yellow lines that have now turned into distorted squiggles.

A thin face pushes away my thoughts and uproars, a smile that was once cruel suddenly turned furtive and the wrinkles at the corner of sharp eyes creased deeper into light skin. This was the face of a woman whom I saw everyday in an alternate universe, one that was real enough to create ceasing memories. She was the opposite of specious, and the irony tasted bitter, like an acerbic metal flavor. Where she was now was secondary history; consequently, an event that will never be told genuinely again.

I shook my head unknowingly as if robustly disagreeing with my conversing thoughts, and then met eyes gilded with gold as they reflected off of the mirror visor; thus, not finding the strength to look away. I wondered how Cameron could keep a tight grip on the wheel while his eyes pierced indirectly at mine. He gave me a concrete nod and then proceeded his eyes back to the road while making a turn on wall street, but I couldn't find any preference of what it meant.

We parked accordingly into a reserved parking spot, a perk of becoming an official member of a completed mission. My eyes flitted up to the platinum sign broadly standing above the road, as if boasting to the whole world of our superior greatness. The car engine briskly died with the sound of a curdling grunt, and everyone shifted back into their seats. Remote tension wafted through the air like a disease that I had unwillingly caught, and my acquaintances challenged one another tacitly.

Tilly was the one who broke the incoherent duel, heedless to opening her door. She was followed by the rest of us, and we prudently edged toward the glass doors that conjured peculiar dejavu.

The odd sense of foreign land hit me as I strolled into a building used to visits, and the hallway stood busy with the rustling of paperwork in different hands, and the mellow side conversations passed around fairly. My shoulders still froze stiff like an awkward mannequin, but I followed after footsteps that seemed to know what path they were headed.