Special Agent | ✓

Twenty-Seven

TWENTY-SEVEN

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Unable to sleep, Locke had folded his arms behind his head and settled with closing his eyes, breathing quietly as he attempted to relax. There was something tugging at him, keeping him from proper rest. Sleep had never been an issue before — he could go to sleep almost at will, useful in most precarious situations his job put him into, whether it was a stakeout or a prolonged missile strike.

Now, though, he had found himself twisting and turning in the dark night, the sheets tangling around him. At least he had his own room, which he was eternally grateful for, but the silence seemed almost deafening in the absence of sleep. He had killed time until dawn, waiting until the first light crept through his windows, before he told himself he'd have to get up.

Locke shrugged on a pair of slacks, slipping his arms into a casual button-up as he ran a hand through his hair. In that moment, a few concise knocks echoed through his room.

Wary, Locke slipped over to the door.

"It's me, Cam," said a soft voice, " — mind letting me in, Gavin?"

Locke reached for the lock, easing the door open. Unwilling to wait for an invitation, and presumptuous regarding her own welcome, Cam smiled widely at him before stalking inside. She was already dressed, a white skirt swishing around her calves, an expensive-looking light blue blouse on top. She'd tied a colorful scarf around her neck, patterned with white and blue, while her ears dangled with big, golden hoops. She carried a slim, white folder.

"Early bird," Gavin remarked, having briefly glanced over her put-together self, " — couldn't sleep?"

Cam shrugged, "I never sleep entirely well. A part of the job, I guess. You'd know." She smiled, again, rosy lips curving, " — anyway, I wanted to talk to you."

Gavin quirked a brow, closed the door softly as she moved further into his room. As he closed the door, his unbuttoned shirt fell open wider, exposing a muscled midriff. Cam's eyes dipped, before returning to his face.

Decidedly, Gavin quickly buttoned his shirt up, clearing his throat. She'd seated herself on his unmade bed, demurely crossing her legs as she stared at him expectantly. Kent put the folder beside herself.

Locke's brow remained up, as he cocked his head, "What?"

"Nothing, nothing." Cam laughed lightly, waved it off, " — caught up in thoughts."

"Must've been some thoughts, if you come knocking at six in the morning." Locke remarked, glancing down to make sure his shirt was buttoned. It felt strange, having Cameron Kent here, in his room, in the flesh.

She had been gone. Presumed missing. Pieces were swiftly not adding up, and it irked him. He was no analyst, but he was logical enough to be suspicious. Suspicious of Cam's sudden return, and why the pending kill order for Quinn bothered him so much that he'd slept fitfully.

Shake it off, Locke. Let it bloody be.

"What if I just wanted to say 'good morning'?" Cam asked, a bright smile slipping onto her features. Those blue eyes glistened as she continued, " — a friend's not allowed to say hi to a friend?"

"I'm just finding it a little hard to realize you're back. You realize you were missing for a number of weeks?" Gavin looked right at her, " — you were, in essence, presumed dead."

Cam's eyes darkened, face souring, "I know, I know. It was for my own safety."

"Because of ... Qu - O'Reilly?" Gavin cleared his throat, "Because you believed she was after you?"