A dark figure was approaching the car. I could only make out the daunting silhouette in the moonlight and what little glow there was from the lights on Smith's vehicle.

"No, no, no." I rasped out to myself, attempting to scurry to the opposing door so I could bolt away from the figure. The person that had shot and killed Agent Smith. And I was next. I had not been smarter or stronger or more deadly than a gun when it had been in Smith's hand and I doubted that I would be now.

As I moved the shattered glass pierced my hands, but I hardly noticed. I just kept moving and kept my eyes on the silhouette that was getting closer. My trembling arms and jittery legs were hardly able to drag me across the seat. I felt like I was moving in slow motion. No matter how much energy I exerted I couldn't move quickly enough. He was getting closer and I had barely shuffled to the other side of the car, but I was so close.

Just as my fingers came into contact with the handle I heard the other door unlatch and swing open.

A hand clamped down on my ankle. I gave out a shriek but was yanked towards the haunted man. Towards the man that had murdered Agent Smith just moments ago.

I dug my finger nails into the smooth leather of the backseat as hard as I could. I knew that I left long, jagged nail marks from the struggle. Screams poured out of my mouth so loudly they hurt my own ears. I thrashed hard, kicking my legs in hopes that I would inflict substantial damage. It was just like my apartment. I needed one solid hit. Just one. And I could be running through the forest in the dark, actually able to having a fighting chance against this beast.

"Camila." The man grunted, obviously struggling to control my wriggling body. "Camila, stop screaming, you're going to make someone call the cops."

I just screamed louder. At least the cops wouldn't kill me right away. I would live until tomorrow. I needed someone, anyone, to hear me.

With one hard pull I was removed from the car completely, my body slamming down on the gravel. I let out a cry of pain and attempted to clutch at my head and neck, searching for injuries as my screams died. The thump on the ground had left my winded and stunned.

"It's me." The man breathed, grabbing my jaw and forcing me to look at him through tear-filled eyes.

The man had a youthful face; I could tell that he was younger than Agent Smith, even in the dark. His dark hair was clinging to his forehead. His shirt was wet with sweat and his breathing was heavy from the adrenaline pulsing through his body. His large shoulders blocked me from seeing an escape route- keeping me captive- but his free hand was pressed against one of my wrists. It was almost like he was checking my heart rate.

Unlike Agent Smith he was quite frazzled by the situation that he had gotten himself into. He wasn't as tough and as cold-blooded as the previous agent, but he was much calmer than a normal human being would be. I searched him desperately, trying to figure out who he was. And when my eyes met his striking green ones I had no idea how to respond.

"Alistair." I croaked out.

"Yeah, that's right." I think he was trying to sound soothing, but his voice was shaking and I could feel how wobbly his hand was on my chin, "Come on, you need to get in my car."

"You killed him." I whispered, "You're going to kill me too, aren't you?"

"No, I won't. Please, I need you to get in my car. We need to get moving as soon as possible." He hoisted me to my feet as he was speaking, but when he took my hands and tried to pull me towards the small car with no head lights on I dug my heels in. He tugged me along for a single stride, my runners skidding across the gravel before he made a frustrated noise.

I expected him to beg me to listen or to demand that I get in the economy car that he had driven. But he didn't. His hands moved to my waist and before I could protest I was tossed over his shoulder like I weighed absolutely nothing. Between the adrenaline throbbing through my body and his shoulder digging into my abdomen I felt like I was going to vomit, but somehow managed to hold it in He awkwardly maneuvered me over to his car, opening the passenger door and plopping me on the cloth seat.

My mind was spinning so quickly that I didn't think about bolting. I didn't think about climbing into the driver's seat and stealing the vehicle. It would've been so easy, the keys were still in the ignition and Alistair had his back turned to me, walking back towards the sporty sedan.

But I just sat there, almost perfectly still aside from my loud breathing.

All I could think about was the vacant look on Smith's face as his dead body was leaning against the steering wheel. His lips parted in shock. His eyes open but so completely lifeless. The dripping sound of the blood. The metallic smell that filled the car. The soft noise he made as the bullet passed through his body. It all just snap through my head on an endless loop.

After some time I was able to get my attention back. Alistair was in the driver's seat. The luxury sedan that had brought me here was now missing.

"Where did it go?" I said dumbly.

"It's in the slew over there." Alistair replied, buckling himself in.

A massive swamp was just beside the road. I hadn't noticed it before. And any other passerby would have a hard time seeing the tiny amount of the dark car roof peeking out of the murky water and cat tails. He must've put the car into neutral and pushed it down the embankment. The body would decompose in no time with all the creatures that undoubtedly lurked below the surface. By the time someone found the car and its contents –if it was ever spotted- it would be almost impossible to tell what happened.

The small car I was in moved forward, startling my mind back into functional terror.

"Where are you taking me? Why did you kill Smith? What are you doing here? How did you find me?" I ranted, feeling the tears spill down my cheeks as I spoke.

I wanted to grab something that would aid me in defending myself from this murderer but nothing was in reach. I grabbed the door handle and yanked it, thinking that bailing out of the car, onto the gravel road would be the next best option. The locks had automatically switched when we began driving and refused to open. I let out a strangled scream, angry, afraid, and helpless.

Alistair's eyes snapped towards me, the road briefly forgotten. But he looked at me he didn't appear malicious like he had the first time he took me in for questioning. He didn't look solid and certain like Agent Smith had when he wrangled me out of my house or as furious as Smith had been when he had held the gun under my chin. If anything, he looked scared. But he carefully extended his arm towards me and pushed me back against the seat just as I tried to manually unlock the door.

"You need to breathe, Camila."

"You just killed someone!" I shrieked, my pitch so high and so loud that my voice cracked. "You just killed him after he threatened to kill me and take me back to Josh!" the truth poured out of my mouth before I could stop it, but so much had happened. It was too much for me to be worried about what I had just revealed as well. I just needed to get away from this killer.

"I know. But you need to trust me right now. I'm trying to do what's best for you." His attention was back on the road and he drove the speed limit, obeying every traffic sign and signal.

It infuriated me that he was driving like a law-abiding citizen now. The situation was dire; didn't that deserve high speeds and aggressive maneuvers? Shouldn't we be speeding away from the crime scene?

"You can't take me back to Josh!" I wailed, feeling a new wave of tears fill my eyes. "You don't understand what he's done!" I knew that this tactic hadn't worked on Agent Smith, but I felt I had no other choice but to beg and plead.

"Hey, don't cry." He whispered softly. I felt the warmth of his hand squeezing my thigh as he continued, "You aren't going back to him, okay?"

My teeth chattered together so hard I feared my teeth were going to break.

I didn't understand what was happening. I didn't know how Agent Smith had found me. I didn't know why he still wanted to take me back to Josh after he knew what he had done to me. And Alistair had killed him. Alistair had killed the man that had questioned me. The man that he was working with. Now, Alistair was claiming that he wasn't taking me back to Josh, but where else could we be going? And what would he being doing with me if he wasn't returning me to the states?

The concern was evident on Alistair's face when he peered over at me and saw me shivering dramatically. He reached into the back seat and pulled out a massive fluffy blanket, handing it to me silently. I didn't protest. I felt like I could freeze to death. I wrapped myself up in the thick fleece, staring at him in confusion. When he saw me watching him he dug around in the cup holders and retrieved a candy bar. It was a brand I had never seen before but he gently placed it on my lap.

"I'll explain everything. I know that this is very hard for you to deal with. I wouldn't have done what I did if there was another alternative." He reasoned. "I'm taking us to the airport." I let out a little whimper at that, thinking about Agent Smith's plan. Alistair gave me a look I couldn't quite read. "You need to trust me, Camila. I know it's hard and you're very confused, but please. And eat some of that."

I just watched him from the passenger seat, shivering with chattering teeth. I didn't trust what he was saying and I certainly wasn't going to be putting anything from him in my mouth.

"Camila, this is happening whether or not you're prepared. I have the authority to drag you through that airport if you're screaming your lungs out or if you're walking with me quietly. So please, just make this easier for us."

I knew there was truth in his words so I carefully unwrapped the candy bar and broke off a small piece. I inspected it heavily, trying to see if I could determine that something was wrong with it. When I found nothing I placed it in my mouth.

We reached the airport quickly, traveling in the opposite direction when compared to the route I had been taking with Agent Smith. We parked the car in a relatively empty parking lot and I was stunned when Alistair left the door unlocked and the keys in plain sight. Evidently, he wanted the rental car to get stolen.

"Come on." He encouraged when I simply stared at him.

I felt like my limbs were stone. He took my hand and pulled me along behind him, dragging me through busy roads and into the warmth and bustle of the airport. I was strewn along for several more minutes. Alistair kept a tight hold on my hand and every few seconds he would cast a glance over at me, seeming to be worried about my quiet compliant state, but he never stopped his trek until we reached security and diverted into a separate, short line.

It was then that I realized what the chocolate had been for. My muscles were stiff and seemed harder to control, but it was my mind that was truly affected. I was able to grasp that I had just witnessed a man getting shot, but I had zero emotional response. I attempted to focus all my energy into stirring up any emotion within myself, but was completely unable to do so. The candy must've contained some kind of drug that repressed what I was feeling and eased the effects of the shock.

We progressed though the short line quickly, making it up to a thin security guard in seconds. A small card with Graham Smith printed on the back- but not picture- appeared in Alistair's hand. The slight, but serious looking security agent scanned it, nodding to Alistair before he pulled me along behind him once more.

We boarded a plane almost immediately, sitting in first class seats side by side. I kept craning my neck, trying to see if emergency vehicles had swarmed the tarmac yet. There was no way that Alistair could've killed an agent and gotten away with it. Alistair noticed my returning behaviors. Before we took off he offered me another piece of chocolate and I wordlessly accepted.

After an hour and half flight we landed in the rainy city of Amsterdam. It was pouring rain and that gave me an odd sense of dread and comfort all at once. It looked like Scotland had. Gloomy and sad, but it had become home.

But I wasn't home.

Not in Anaheim. Not in Ottawa. Not in Glasgow.

I was in Amsterdam with Alistair Kingsley, the man who had handcuffed me and dragged me to a government building to be interrogated by Agent Smith. Both Smith and Alistair had wanted to take me back to Josh. But Smith was dead. His car was in the bottom of a swamp and I had no idea when he would be found. And it was his identity that Alistair had stolen to get us onto that plane.

After an hour on a subway and many more pieces of chocolate in my stomach I saw Alistair's shoulders finally sag. The exhaustion was clear on his face. His eyes had deep bags under them, his posture was slipping into a slouch and his fine motor skills were fading into the lazy ways of a common person. I had learned that Alistair was anything other than average. Seeing him slip was unnerving. But the relief in his face was also very clear when we checked into a hotel, using a license with his picture on it, but a very Dutch name.

Still, through everything he had put me through I had held my tongue. I had thought about opening the car door when he had been taking me to the airport and risking the damage that would've been inflicted from rolling out. I thought about throwing such a big fit in the airport that police would be called. And on the plane and the subway I had bitten my lip, trying to keep distressed tears out of my eyes until he noticed and allowed me to drug myself.

But the moment the hotel room door closed behind me I decided I had had enough.

"You need to explain everything. Now." I ordered.