I am stronger than you think.

The dark water hugs my body, pulling at Archer's shirt. Salty tears clawing at the wounds on my back.

I break through the surface with a gasp, my eyes blurry with salt water. I quickly look around the dark sky and twinkling lights, searching through the shifting waves for Archer.

I ignore the pain that overtakes my body, coughing at the sting of salt in my nose and swim in spot.

"Archer?" I hiss. The water lapping at my shoulders. The current not strong enough to pull me away but enough for my muscles to ache with exertion.

"Archer?!" I hiss louder, swimming in circles as I try to see his face, his dark hair. Anything. "Archer!"

"Holland!" A voice rises over the sounds of the water overlapping.

I spin in my position, Archer behind me. I swim towards him, trying to put as much energy into getting out of the water.

"C'mon."

We swim to the shore as hard as we can. My feet hit the sandy bank and I start to push myself closer, trying to be as silent and as fast as possible to get out of view.

An angered scream interrupts the silence and I hastily grab Archer's hand, squeezing it in my own. We run up the rest of the sand, the breath escaping my lungs in scattering inhales and exhales as he pulls me to a place to hide.

Archer back hits the sand wall behind him, arms wrapping around me and pulling me into the safety of his body and the shadow of the dock above us.

The wind whispers through our clothes and I shiver, my back flush to Archer's chest despite the wounds on my back, their ache dulled. Our feet are still submerged in the water, a glow taking over the once dark sky, morning approaching.

"Elle." He whispers. "Are you okay?"

I laugh, the sound tainted with exhaustion. "Tough stuff remember." I remind him with a shrug, the shivers wracking my body again, the shirt clinging to my back, sinking into the crevices of my injuries.

He quirks a brow and turns me to face him, looking into my eyes. His forehead falls to meet mine, his eyes squeezing shut. "We have to get your back checked on."

"I'm fine."

He laughs, shaking his head and stepping back. "That's your adrenaline talking."

"Probably." I shiver.

He pulls me into his warmth once more, my arms wrapping around his bare waist, cheek snug against his chest.

His chin rests on the top of my head as he murmurs, "They'll come looking for us when they don't find us on the ship. We have to get out of here."

"No shit Sherlock." I whisper against his chest, closing my eyes as his chest rumbles with a deep laugh.

He pulls back, taking my hand in his and squeezing it, comfort lighting my blood on fire.

He starts leading us towards the rock wall. Periodically glancing behind us to make sure we haven't been spotted.

I flinch as the sound of a gunshot resonates in the air. Archer pulling me back as he hides us further under the shadows of the jetty.

His back hits the wall. Trying in vain to hide himself between the cracks and winds his arms around me protectively.

I pull back and move slowly, desperate not to rock the water and alert Scarlett or anyone nearby of our location.

The darkness starts to recede, making way for harsh light.

The dawn is coming.

The silky sand sloshes beneath my feet as we rush between the docks as the air opens around us. Rushing to hide once again.

It feels like hours that we travel yet it could only have been about a half hour or less before we reach the end of the dock.

I stop under the last pier, gaze scanning the surroundings.

The only way to escape is up on the platform and onto land or to stay in the water and die from the cold or recapture.

The last two are not very appealing to me.

I look back at Archer and he flicks his chin towards the rock wall. Pulling my hand towards him as we slowly make our way there.

"We need to get out of the water." He hushes, looking back at me as he pulls me along.

I open my mouth to reply but he cuts me off with a smirk, shaking his head at me.

"I know. No shit Sherlock."

I roll my eyes, trying desperately to hide the smile growing on my face.

It doesn't work.

He leans his back against the wall, nodding at his interlocked hands.

"Come on."

I place my foot in his hands and my hands on his shoulder as he lifts me up. My hands find purchase easily on the rocks, and I quickly climb up. Ignoring the pain that blossoms on my back as it stretches and moves with each movement.

As soon as I'm on even ground, I lay on my stomach and hold a hand out for Archer to grab.

His fingers wind reassuringly around mine. We use our combined strength to pull him up until he is rolling onto the pavement by my side.

He stands up quickly, holding a hand out for me when I have trouble standing up with the pain in my back worsening.

I take it gratefully, pulling myself up behind him. Together we run towards the closest buildings. Clothes sticking to our bodies and frigid wind whispering across skin.

"Over there," Archer says to me as he points to a pathway between two buildings. A car is nestled between the warehouses, looking like it had seen better days.

Very much like us.

Archer runs to the driver's side. He pulls the handle, but it snaps back into place.

Locked.

Closing my eyes in frustration. I bring my elbow forward, prepared to smash through when Archer's hand wraps around my arm, stalling me.

"I'll find something."

He turns, searching and a minute later comes back with a crumbled piece of brick.

He smashes it into the passenger window, glass rolling into the vehicle and coating the seat.

He reaches in and unlocks the door, opening it.

Brushing off the shards of glass he leans over and unlock the driver's door. His calculating eyes analysing the buildings and the way from which we had just escaped as he exits and walks towards me, helping me to the passenger door when I slump against the car in agony.

"Let's hurry."

I limp around the side, knowing I won't be able to drive in my state.

Hopping in gently, Archer shuts the door behind me before jogging to the driver side, his eyes always scanning, always analysing.

I look around for any sharp objects I can use to help me and find a small Swiss army knife in the glove compartment. Stabbing the underbelly of the steering wheel. I tear the pieces of plastic away until I can reach under and grasp the group of wires needed to start the car.

Archer climbs in just as I grasp the wires in my hand, and I set to work on hot wiring the car.

Grabbing the brown wire, I strip it and join it with another until the car splutters to life.

"Is there anything you can't do?" Archer asks as he puts the car in drive and speeds out of the alleyway.

"I'll let you know when I find something." I mumble half-heartedly. "Can you not hotwire a car?" I ask bewildered.

"I can." He hums back proudly, and a small smile grows on my face.

"Then why are you asking?"

"The Division never taught me that."

"They didn't teach me either, it's like they want us to die. Sure, I can learn how to fly a plane but not how to hotwire a car."

"How'd you learn?"

"My sister and I taught ourselves, a lot of the times we'd get electrocuted, so it was a risk and reward type situation." I breathe out a silent sigh in relief, looking out the window and back at the ship. "How'd you learn?" I ask back.

"My father taught me before I even joined The Division, told me it was a life lesson I must learn in order to succeed in life."

"He sounds like a good father."

"He was." He mumbles back.

"What happened to him?" I ask but soon realise how insensitive it sounds. "You don't have to tell me." I correct and open my eyes, staring at Archer.

"He was shot."

"During a mission?"

"No." He glances at me from the corner of his eye. "During a robbery"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, he shouldn't have been at their house. It was his own fault."

"Wait," I turn to him. "He was the robber?"

A grin shows on his face, and he nods.

"He was a great father, but he wasn't a great man, he was into some sketchy shit. Part of the reason I joined The Division."

"That wasn't in your file." I mumble.

"You read my file?"

"And you didn't read mine?"

"That's beside the point," He mumbles before he bursts out laughing.

"The Division doesn't know. I grew up with my mum's maiden name as my last name so nobody would know I was associated with him until I told them."

"Our Agency needs a new analytics team." I mumble.

"And trainers." He quips, pointedly looking at the exposed wires of the car.

A laugh bubbles out of me.

"That too."

I close my eyes, leaning back, groaning as soon as my back rests against the seat, the pain coming back ten-fold.

Archer's head whips over to me and he quickly pulls the car to the side of the road.

He gestures me forward, fingers going to the shirt as he pulls it up.

"It's getting infected." He smooths a thumb around the area of one of the wounds and I wince.

"Sorry." He mutters, pulling the shirt back down. "I have to find something to clean it." He looks in the back, but nothing is there.

My eyes starts to shut, adrenaline finally dissipating, and Archer looks over to me.

"Go to sleep, I'll find a way."

"Thank you." I whisper, my head lulling to rest against the seat.