BANG

Marshall slammed the lid of his laptop down in frustration. No matter how many time he typed the name 'Clara Taylors,' and no matter how many different search engines he used, nothing came up. No social media accounts, no cringy school photographs, nothing. It was as if his assistant didn't exist, but of course, she did because Paul had hired her, meaning he must have done a background check. Without thinking twice Marshall reached for his phone dialling his manager's number.

''Marshall it's five in the morning,'' the time Paul had told caused his eyes to near enough pop out of his head. He'd literally been up all night trying to find anything he could about Clara.

''Did you do a background check on Clara?'' He asked, ignoring the grumblings Paul had about how early it was in the morning.

''Of course, I did. Why has she done something, has she stolen anything?'' Paul's reply made Marshall run his hand across the back of his neck and he stood up from his position on the bed, making his way out of the bedroom and downstairs.

''No it's just, I wanted to find more about her and I can't find shit,'' Marshall admitted, turning on the coffee machine. There was no way he was going to get to sleep, so he decided to drink something to wake him up. Although by around lunchtime he'd probably be asleep on the floor of the studio knowing his luck. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done it.

''You called me at five in the morning to tell me you wanted to get to know you're assistant. Marshall, I have an idea why don't you sit and have a conversation with her. I suggest when she wakes up,'' Paul bit out. Marshall just huffed and ended the call, fully aware that he wasn't going to get anything else out of the man.

Sighing he took the freshly made coffee and exited the kitchen and made his way across the hallway to the living room. That was when he paused, glancing down at his watch he noticed Paul was right it was now half five in the morning. The time, however, wasn't what was wrong at that precise moment because he couldn't care less about what the time was. He did, however, care about the fact that his were the only pair of shoes by the door from yesterday and that Clara's coat hadn't returned to the hooks plastered along the wall next to the door.

''Clara,'' he yelled as loud as he could, none of the girls were there so he didn't have to worry about accidentally waking them up. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end as he was met by silence, ''Clara,'' he yelled again, but nothing.

Abandoning his cup on the sideboard by the stairs, Marshall sprinted up the stairs and went straight towards the bedroom he'd given her to stay in. Once outside he took his fist and knocked loudly several times, no reply. He called out again, yet there was still nothing. That was when he tightened his grip around the door handle and pushed it open.

He ran his hands over his face several times and blinked a couple too, just to make sure he was looking, or more accurately what he wasn't looking at, was true. Marshall's gaze fell on the alarm clock the time was not quarter to six and Clara was quite clearly not home.

''Clam down it's not like she's your kid. She's a full grown adult for fuck's sake,'' he muttered to himself, falling to sit down on the edge of the bed, ''she never said what type of friend she was meeting, maybe it was a boyfriend,''he sighed again before falling onto his back spread-eagled across the bed.

He wasn't aware of at what point he fell asleep, but when he woke up there was a black haired, green-eyed female looking at him with her arms crossed over her chest and a distinctive bruise forming on the side of her head, along with a red mark on her left cheek.

°°°

Over an hour earlier

The release of pressure came with no explosion, allowing Clara to breathe a huge sigh of relief. She was still alive and had defused a bomb, something she'd never thought she'd have to do ever. Her victory was very much short lived because as she was about to put the phone back to her ear to tell Miranda that the bomb had been defused, a hand came out of nowhere knocking it out of her hand.

Clara was to slow to stop the rest of the events from happening. She struggled against the arm that had snaked its way around her waist and the other one that had circled it around her from pinning her arms down.

''Fuck Andy knock her out otherwise we're not going to get her out of her,'' the voice came from the person the arms around her belonged too.

No amount of thrashing or kicking could stop the sharp object from connecting to her forehead. Everything went dark as she slouched against the man who held her. For the next few seconds, she was still conscious, able to feel herself being lifted into his arms; followed by the slow rise and fall as he wandered down the stairs.

°°°

''Ah fucking hell,'' Clara squeezed her eyes closed as a stabbing pain shot through her head. After bracing herself for a few more minutes she finally managed to sit herself up, although with great difficulty as her hands were tied tightly with rope behind her. Heaving herself up, Clara managed to press herself against the wall.

''A cabin in the woods. How fucking original,'' she yelled, leaning her head against the splintering wood, which made up the building.

''She got a filthy mouth on her this one,'' the voice Clara recognised as Andy's. Now she could see his face as he knelt down in front of her grabbing her chin inbetween his fingers. A large ugly scar ran across his right eye, said eye was just a ball of white goo. Clara was disgusted by his appearance, to say the least.

''And you're filthy all over. Your point,'' the comment earnt her slap to her left cheek, she didn't even flinch and the man just stared at her for a few seconds before letting out a loud barking laugh.

''This bitch thinks she's funny,'' his comment was followed by laughter. Two people Clara guessed, it was too loud to be less and not loud enough to be more.

''This bitch ain't the type of bitch you're used to,'' Clara pointed out raising an eyebrow at the man as the smirk dropped from his face.

''And what type are we used too?'' Andy asked, grabbing her face to make her look at him.

''I'm guessing you're human trafficars because A why else were you lurking around an abandoned building and B you haven't asked me a single question about who I am. Finally in three two one...''

''Hands on your heads, on your knees,'' the door of the cabin slammed open revealing an array of officers covered in riot gear.

''I'm not the type of bitch you're used to,'' Andy lunged at her his hands tightening around her neck. Before he could make any sort of damage he was pried off her and restrained while handcuffs were clamped around his wrists.

''Clara Taylors,'' she nodded as the only person in the room wearing an FBI jacket, cut through her ties and helped her to her feet.

''Thanks, erm one of them must have my phone,'' she pipped up just before the three men were pulled out of the door.

''No we don't,'' Andy spat out.

''Oh you do,'' it was her time to smirk as she made her way over to him, sliding her hands inside the jacket he wore to pull out her phone from the inside pocket, ''otherwise they wouldn't have found me,'' Andy glared at her as the officers then pulled him away and out of sight.

''MI5 have informed me to ask them about the lists,'' the FBI agent whispered to her, ''you can join if you want, the interrogation won't happen for a couple days,'' he added.

''Tell me when it's happening, it depends if I'm available or not,'' she replied and he nodded in understanding, ''do you mind giving me a lift?''

''Not at all Ma'am.''

°°°

The last thing Clara expected to see was Marshall spead across the width of her bed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as he had a little snooze. She cleared her throat loudly and his eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the light. Clara stood in front of him, arms crossed and a stern expression on her face. She knew he'd ask about the bruising on her face and she was almost sure that he knew she wanted to ask what he was doing on her bed.

''What are you doing?''

''What happened to your fucking face?''