It was a strange feeling sitting across from the person who once made your life a living hell. It didn't matter how many years had gone by. Three years with this soul-sucking creature was enough to make freedom feel fragile. I didn't tell Armita the complete truth about what I had been up to since we last saw each other. I wasn't just training to be a different, better man. I was trying to erase my demons. The ones that settled into my mind because of the parasite that now sat across from me. It was odd yet satisfying seeing him there in orange prison clothing with the number 7864 printed over his heart. Where he belonged. Away from others. Away from chaos.

His typically combed back hair was now hanging messily around his no longer clean-shaven face. The right side was covered in blue and blue with parts more swollen than others. Much different from his typical clean appearance. But none of that mattered. Although he was stripped of everything he loved and used to be, he still seemed calm much to my annoyance. He showed no sign of unsettlement when Armita and I walked into the room. Instead, he eyed us with mild interest, watching as we took a seat in front of him.

He was no longer the Sparrow I knew. The man in front of me was broken inside and out. And yet, there was something inside of me that quivered at his sight. I was different, and yet the same.

I guess it's true that some demons are stronger than others.

"Holden Morrison," Armita began, "I am Special Agent Armita Kumar with the Mia—"

"I know who you are, love. You can skip the formalities. They are just a show to express your power," Sparrow said to her in a boring tone.

Her eyebrow perked up but otherwise, she too seemed unfazed. "I see. Well, then I suppose there is no need to introduce my partner either."

"Partner?" his eyes slid back to me. "How interesting. You went and made something of yourself after all."

"We are not here to discuss me." I countered.

"But why not?" He leaned up, placing his cuffed hands on the table between us. I tried not to look at the blackbird tattoo still prominent and proud as ever. "I have been so bored here. Entertain me once more. Tell me why you no longer wear that lovely eyepatch. Not afraid to show off that beautiful scar?"

"Why don't we talk about your eye instead," I deflected his questions.

"Oh, it's such a boring story. You tell the wrong joke to the wrong person and this happens." He gestured to his bruised eye then looked at Armita. "Your brother truly is not a fan of my jokes. But then again, they did revolve around a sensitive subject." He cocked his eyebrow at her.

"Leave her alone," I warned.

"So protective." His snarky, cold smile returned. "But then again you were always the protective one out of the bunch. Didn't do much for you though, did it? Or John."

"Mr. Morrison, I would appreciate if we stayed on topic," Armita snapped.

His eyes never left mine as he replied, "I wasn't aware that we were even on a topic."

"I was trying to get to that point if you would please, stay focused and stop pestering my partner."

He chuckled. "Such a rude thing to say. I am not pestering. I am simply trying to reconnect with an old dear friend."

"Like hell were we ever friends." I spat.

"Oh, but you said it yourself. Remember? Back in the training room after a match? It was near Christmas, I believe. A week or so before the grand finale that you and your partner hosted. I heard you say it to try and stop me from harming your dear sweet Gage. I remember it so well. The blood. Your screams. It was truly—"

But he didn't finish his sentence when Armita suddenly stood up from her chair to reach across the table grabbing a fist of Sparrow's orange shirt, pulling him in close as she looked him in the eye to say, "I am tired of people like you running their mouths for no fucking reasons. So I'm going to say this one more time—we are here to question you, a prisoner. You are not Sparrow anymore. You are not Jason's boss anymore. I am. So if you don't shut your fucking mouth about the time when you actually had any sort of significance, I swear I will for you. Know your place you fucker."

Seeing the slight shift in his expression from haughty to almost terrified, that was something I thrived to see. And it was all because of Armita.

I swore to God I would marry this woman one day.

After a moment when Armita stared deep enough into what was left of his soul, enough to make him actually quiet, she released his shirt and slowly lowered herself back into her seat.

"Now," she folded her hands one over the other on the table, "as I was trying to say, we have some questions for you."

He leaned back in his chair, resorting to his bored persona. "Oh?"

"This man," she placed a picture of Arman on the table in front of him, "he was the one who gave you the black eye.

Sparrow looked down at the photo with disinterest, then Armita with even more disinterest. "Perhaps."

"Did he ever talk to you about any plans he might have had about leaving? Or did he talk to you about anything at all?"

"It's a possibility."

"Can you elaborate?" she asked.

"I could."

She released a long sigh. "Will you elaborate?"

"For what reason?"

"We need information on this man."

"I know."

"And you know something about him."

"I do."

"So we need you to tell us about this man."

"Oh, what an interesting twist of fate this is. You need my help. The lowly prisoner." He shook his head back and forth. "You are an intimidating woman, I will give you that. But that is all you will ever be."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying, that if you think for one second that I am going to help either of you, the people who put me here in the first place, you really are barmy."

My hands balled up into fists. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Not at all," he smirked at me, clearly pleased by my reaction he stirred up. "But surely you realized this would happen."

"If you do not cooperate with the FBI we will—"

"You will what? Add more time to my sentence?" he chuckled at that. "As humorous as that is, you forgot one detail–I already have life in here."

"Cooperating means we can possibly take away years from your sentence," I informed although that's the last thing I would want to do.

"Lucky me. I get to stay in here until I'm 90. Then I will be free to die somewhere else."

"There are several others who would love any sort of freedom," Armita reminded him.

"Then go talk to them. Because I'll tell you for the last time, I have nothing to say to either of you," he spat. "If you want to know about this man, go ask another one of your prized goods you put in here. Although I guarantee they won't know nearly as much as I do."

Armita stared him down. "You bhenchod."

He simply winked at her and I swore in that moment I thought I was going to have to restrain her from attacking him.

"As I said earlier, I haven't been entertained in such a long time. So I will talk to you about anything but this," he nodded to the photo. "You can stay and we will all have a nice chat about the weather or whatever you Americans talk about. Well," he eyed Armita, "I guess we can include Indian stuff too."

"We are done here," Armita shot up from her chair causing it to scrape loudly across the floor. After she collected the image of Arman and shoved it in her manila folder, she shot Sparrow a look that could make any man cower in fear. "Have fun rotting here."

"I plan to," Sparrow flashed a toothy smile. "Do come and see me soon, love. We still haven't discussed what you Indian women talk about. Maybe Bollywood? Or Buddhism? Don't all Indians love that mythical Buddha and worship cows? Or how about henna tattoos and yoga? We can even put dots on our foreheads if that makes you feel better. Or how about—"

And that was when Sparrow realized he had messed with the wrong woman when she suddenly hit him across his already bruised face so hard he fell out of his seat. She didn't stay much longer after that though. Instead she walked out without even waiting for me, clutching the file by her side.

After processing what just happened, I looked down at Sparrow. The same man who had destroyed three years of my life now rolling around on the floor in pain.

With a sigh, I shook my head. "She told you to shut the fuck up."

+ + +

As we gathered our things preparing to leave the place I walked silently next to Armita. Half scared half excited. She didn't seem to be in a good mood. Not that I blamed her. But I still felt like I should say something to her. What happened back there wasn't a good experience for either of us.

"You alright?" I asked.

"I'm fine," she replied stiffly.

"You don't have to lie."

"I'm not lying."

"Oh . . . kay. Well, I mean if you are for some reason, any reason upset by what he said you can talk to me about it."

"Why?"

"I don't know, because we are partners?"

At that she stopped in her tracks nearly making me run into her. She turned around to look at me steadily before replying, "You do understand that what I said to you all those months ago still stand right?"

"What?"

"That we are just professional. That all we will have is a professional relationship."

"I mean, yeah. I know."

"So you are not going to try anything with me, right?"

"Jesus, I was just trying to be nice. I figured what he said pissed you off."

"It did."

". . .Okay. Well, I was just checking on you."

"I'm fine."

"Good."

"Good."

She eyed me up and down once more before turning back around. Armita may be fierce. She may be incredibly attractive. But damn if she doesn't get on my nerves sometimes. Although it was obvious she wanted to drop the conversation, I couldn't stop myself from adding, "You know, just because people are nice to you doesn't mean they always have ulterior motives."

"I know."

"Okay. Then let's just get that clear for a moment," I cut in front of her path so she was the one who had to stop now. Her dark eyes met mine with confusion, but I still pressed on. "I think you are great. I have never kept that a secret from you. But I am also a professional. I am not going to let personal feelings get in the way, just like you don't. If I ask you about something, such as your well-being, I am just trying to be nice. That is all. Because as far as I'm concerned, we are strictly partners. But that doesn't mean we are emotionless objects. So you don't have to be on the defense all the time, okay?"

She eyed me for a long time. I could almost see her processing what I had just said. All of it was true, and I could tell that eventually she understood that as well. Slowly, but surely, she eased up before answering.

"Okay. We are partners."

I nodded. "Yeah."

"But even Percy never asked as much as you do."

"I am not Percy."

"I know," she nodded before pinching the bridges of her nose and taking in a deep breath. After a moment she said, "I don't like that asshole back there. I never have. And I am frustrated."

"The assignment is still fresh."

"It is but he was our big chance at getting a lead."

"He was, you're right. But we will just have to find another way."

"Perhaps I can get him to talk. I know the FBI isn't supposed to shake them up a whole lot, but maybe I could get a friend from the CIA or something—"

"Whoa, wait, back up there. As awesome as that would be, we can't. He is just a prisoner, not a terrorist. Nobody is in immediate danger."

"That we know of. You don't know my brother. Like Director Redclaw said, he is dangerous. Every second that we don't have information about where he is we are wasting our time. We need something. We need a way to figure out where he went. We need—"

"Another option."

"Yes. But if Sparrow won't help us then what?"

"Like I said, we look somewhere else."

"Where?"

I couldn't answer her question because I honestly didn't know. She was right. We were back to square one with no lead or way to find a lead which was the last place we needed to be. Puzzled, I scratched the back of my head and looked around the place as if I would find an answer nearby. I wasn't expecting anything at all, but right when my eyes landed on someone at the front desk, I placed my hand under Armita's chin to direct her attention there.

"What are you doing?" she jumped.

"Look."

"At what?"

"Our opportunity."

"Jason, I don't understand what you are—" But then it must have clicked. She must have seen the familiar redhead woman checking in at the front desk for what could only be visitation hours. Someone who knew Sparrow better than anyone else.

Amber.

_____________________________________________________________

I have to admit, this chapter was incredibly fun to write for so many different reasons. Frustrating, terrible at times, but pretty fun. I guess while some things do change, Sparrow is not one of them.

+Chapter Song: Heathens by Twenty One Pilots (Trap City Remix)

+Questions: Do you think Amber will be useful? Were you as pissed off as I was about the things Sparrow said and did?

+Fun Fact: Many that have read Forbidden Extras have asked me about the correlation between Amber in the chapter "Sisters" (the one who almost hooked up with Jasper) and this Amber. I can say that they are the same person, although that Amber (in "Sisters") is pre-Sparrow. "Why is she in Kansas?" you might be wondering. She had a very interesting life before Sparrow found her, one that had her traveling around a whole lot.

If you are enjoying this book so far please leave a comment/vote letting me know!

Catch you on the flip side

Sincerely,
Snow