Agent Rogue

Chapter 7

The phone call with Alistair had changed the rogue agent's behaviour. Nothing from his old demeanour had been kept; the snarky comments, the flirting, even just the little sparks to ignite a conversation had vanished into thin air.

            To avoid attention, I unlocked Barnes's cuffs with a warning not to run. He did not argue, did not make any sort of joke to rile me up. As my own little experiment, I left him to his own devices at one of the benches while I printed our tickets, but he did not move an inch or even talk to anyone around him.

            I couldn't have that.

            I sat back down beside him, tickets in hand. Spending years working with Scotty had me growing used to filling the quieter times between or during missions with pointless chatter. I'd deemed it irrelevant at first, especially during the time I did not particularly want a partner in my early days as an agent, but I longed for it now. Talking with someone I cared about filled up the empty space in my head in which dangerous thoughts darted around. I needed a substitute.

            I leaned back against the bench. The station was fairly quiet for early afternoon but there was still a lot going on. A few businesswomen and men lingered in and around the coffee shop, taking calls by the door or typing away on their travel-sized laptops as they focussed every minute available on their work, fuelled by caffeine and fast-approaching deadlines. My eyes latched onto a bookstall on the side wall of the shop, gazing with longing. We were headed for a long journey, but money was scarce, needed for food, and I had no other option than to ignore my literary lust and stick to Barnes's company for the extensive hours ahead of us.

            The smell drifted along the platform and met my nose. Goosebumps ran up and down my arm as my skin warmed suddenly. Not so much at the earthy scent of the coffee, or the sugary aroma of the baked goods sold along with it, but the happy memories that came flooding back. Years ago, Scotty had to drag me into a coffee shop. Now I waltzed in them as casually I would with my own flat, making the daily journey before work every morning as the two of us boarded the underground.

            We didn't have that luxury anymore.

            I turned away, needing something else to look at. My eyes swept through the station until they landed on Barnes. He didn't notice me looking – I had a feeling he would have said something even in this foul mood of his – and slouched with his shoulders and neck tensed, dark eyes dulling with thoughts and worries he could not snap out of.

            I followed his line of sight to spy a family of four on the opposite platform. A boy stood by his father on the edge, laughing at his assumed sister as a train entered the station with a whistle and a screech of the brakes. She eyed the edge of the platform wearily, clutching her father's leg while her brother mocked her fear of falling.

            Barnes's throat bobbed, and he looked away.

            I still watched them. Particularly the father.

            He laughed at his son but scolded him anyway. His arm stayed around the young girl, holding her close in a protective manner as if to say everything would be alright. He was there. Nothing could harm her while her dad was around. The mother watched the other members of her family from the bench behind. She knew they were safe with their father. She didn't need to intervene.

            She didn't need to protect them. Not even from the man grasping onto them.

December 2005: Surrey

I never planned to go back to the lab again. Not after how my father had reacted to it the first time.

For one and a half years I had buried all remnants of the place in the back of my mind, turning away at the sight of a delivery and covering my ears with a pillow to block out any drill, scream or cry from downstairs. We lived in an isolated house a ten-minute drive from the nearest neighbourhood. No-one would have heard the sounds. No-one but me.