LOUIS 🗡

Friday, 11:23pm

_

SHE'S A NIGHTMARE, HONESTLY.

It hasn't even been two full days since she's made the threat, and she's already wreaking havoc at every second she can. I'd wake up, brush my teeth, go to get some breakfast, but then find out she set something on fire. Then I'd miss breakfast, rush to the site, and find no traces of evidence.

She'd do the exact same thing during lunch and dinner—so I haven't really eaten in 48 hours. Maybe a toastie, but that's it.

However, I found myself wondering what happened in the office when she broke in a few days ago. Will won't tell me the details, but for some reason he abruptly asked to be recruited to Team Dagger once he found out it was Ash who tricked him.

Now, he's acting....strange.

"I've tried matching her facial features to that of her parents," he said, pacing around the office, "if we can get some DNA off of her, then we can prove to the Higher-Ups that she exists."

He stopped wearing a tie for some reason too.

Now it was just a plain blazer and shirt.

"William, we're just supposed to play along," I sighed, leaning into my chair, "she'll get suspicious if we start 'testing' her."

The man shook his head. "She's dangerous, Partridge, we need to do something about it."

"Are you going to tell me what happened, or not?"

"Nothing happened."

"Are you sure?"

"Drop it, please."

"I'm not going to drop it, because it's clearly bothering you," I said, crossing my arms against my chest, "and stop being dramatic, hm?"

I was using his own words against him, out of spite mostly. He shrugged aside my anger when I first met Ash, and now that he did too, he should have understood how infuriating she could be. And seriously, what is it with his tie? I've never seen him without one before, and now he's suddenly avoiding it at all costs.

"Fine," he said, straightening his suit coat, "since you want to play petty, I will."

I smirked. "Good."

"She..." he began, wincing at his own words, "she was very wordy."

"What?"

"She said some things that...I'm not sure how to describe."

"Use your words, Miller."

"It's complicated."

"Is it?"

"Oh for God's sake," he snapped, throwing his hands into the air, "she flirted with me, Partridge, she nearly made me break rule seventeen, is that what you want to hear?"

...

You've got to be bloody joking.

If you aren't aware what Rule Seventeen is, I'll describe it to you. Maybe you can see what's so terrible about it:

Rule 17 [S.I.S AGENT HANDBOOK - PAGE 17, ARTICLE 13].

—Any form of physical attraction is forbidden amongst those employed, as well as any implications, PDA, flirtation, or inappropriate internet-interaction.

—Any employee who breaks said rule, will be suspended for the length of the given sentence.

I wasn't sure why that put me on edge, but I found myself sitting up straighter, my brows furrowed in horror.

"You didn't..." I stammered, glancing wildly around the room, "please tell me you didn't—"

"I said I nearly broke it, you thick-head, I didn't touch her," William frowned.

"Did she touch you?"

"Well, she asked if she could fix my tie, but—"

"Shut your mouth, Miller, I don't want to hear it," I said, rising out of my chair, "she's an Ash, she probably flirts with everybody, so don't think you're special."

I didn't mean to sound put off, but I was put off. I think it was out of sheer embarrassment that the girl could break into one of the most guarded landmarks in all of London, just by flirting her way through the lot. It was unheard of, and it made me incredibly mad—and I had a right to be.

"Oh, piss off," William snapped, "you're the one who asked."

"Well, I didn't know she flirted with you," I said defensively.

"Are you jealous?"

"Absolutely not, that's ridiculous," I frowned, before pausing. "Why? Did she say anything about me?"

William shrugged. "Nope."

"Really? Nothing?"

"Yeah, she just dropped that parcel off, but that was it."

I pursed my lips.

I don't know why that thought bothered me, but it did. I must be angry that she even dared to enter my office. That's why. She might have seen the personal items I kept to bring solitary comfort after a difficult mission—like the tiny teddy-bear underneath my paperwork or my Sex Pistols poster.

But maybe it was the fact that I wasn't the only one who knew she existed now, and my 'claim to fame' was potentially ruined. She wasn't a secret anymore, and now I had nothing to be secretive about.

Or maybe it was because she was [y/n] Ash, and I hated everything about her.

"I'm clocking out early," I said, grabbing my coat, "goodbye, Miller."

Maybe I can actually eat something today.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

SENSE & SENSIBILITY.

One of my favorite books, because I loved how it drew the reader in at every line. I originally picked it up because it was a 'classic', and I wanted to impress my University English teacher, but then I fell in love with the story.

It's nice to read about love.

I'm not ashamed to admit it, because my career is one with violence, death, pain—and I've had a serious lack of the emotion ever since I was recruited—so I won't pretend a good book isn't a good book just because it's about romance. Any man who thinks anything else, can piss off.

"You can read?" A voice said from behind me, "that's surprising."

Nearly dropping the novel, I spun around to see [Y/N] Ash standing on the fire escape outside of my apartment, her arms resting against the open window sill.

It was nearly three in the morning, I was half-asleep, and I was curled up on my couch reading a book because I needed the comfort. I really didn't want to deal with her right now, because she'd ruin my day even more.

"How did you find my address?" I frowned, ignoring her previous statement.

She shrugged, "my friend."

"Your friend?"

"Yeah, that's what I said," she laughed, "you should really get better security, Louis."

I narrowed my eyes, standing up. "I told you not to call me that."

"But do I ever do what you tell me to?" She grinned, "no, didn't think so."

If I wasn't wearing my jim-jams, I would have been fine talking to her like I usually did. But now I seemed less threatening in striped-cotton. Perfect timing as usual, Ash, I was just trying to read my damn book.

Swiftly swinging her legs over the window sill, she hopped into my apartment, pulling something out of the back pocket of her jeans.

It was a CD, with the words Never Mind The Bollocks, Here's The Sex Pistols written over it.

My favorite band.

"Wanna dance?" She grinned.

I frowned. "You've got to be bloody joking with me."

"Relax, I'm just bored," she said, rolling her eyes, "I saw your poster in your office a few days ago, and thought I'd pay you a little visit."

I knew she must have seen something, and now she was using it against me. I didn't even bother to say anything when she tossed the disc onto my couch, shuffling around the room as she observed everything. I had no family pictures, no personal pictures, and certainly nothing of value, so I wasn't sure why she cared.

"Jeez, Louis," she said, poking at a couch cushion, "am I the first woman to be in this house?"

I furrowed my brows. "Excuse me?"

"It reeks of 'bachelor' in here," she said, scrunching her nose, "I can barely stand it."

"Get out of my house, Ash."

"Why?" She said, sicking out her bottom lip, "I thought you wanted to catch me."

She was making this difficult, as usual.

I have to play along with her games in order for Team Dagger to work, but so can't bring her in until I know more. I know nothing about her family, her friends, and her life. It's too difficult to attempt anything now, and besides, she could have a bomb trigger on her somewhere—you can never tell with her.

"Don't start, Ash, I'm not in the mood," I said instead, pointing towards the window, "now leave."

She frowned. "You're a terrible host."

"And you're a terrible guest, so go."

She didn't.

Instead, she crossed the living room, getting up in my face again. The last time she was this close to me, I felt like she was ripping my soul out of my own body, but this time it was different. She did nothing but stare with blank eyes, not saying a word as I stared back.

But then in a split second, she raised her hand and went in for a slap.

I caught her wrist before she could even touch my cheek.

"Good boy," she grinned, "see? You do want to fight."

She was right, in a sense. I was tired of waiting around, following her trail of breadcrumbs knowing I wouldn't be able to find the other side. I wanted to actually do something. Something I was good at.

But, I shouldn't.

"What do you want from me, Ash?" I sighed.

She frowned. "An actual challenge."

"Are you calling me weak?"

"Yes."

"I'm not weak."

"Fight me then."

"No."

"Then I'll go ask your buddy William, because at least he knows how to keep a woman interested," she said, spite glimmering in her eyes.

It was like she had planted a ticking timer in the center of my chest, and knew those words were the ones that set me off. I had to let go of her wrist in order not to lash out, trying to keep my composure. She was needling every vulnerable part of me.

"Don't talk to me about Will," I said, turning away.

I could sense her smirking. "Jealous?"

"I bet you wish I was," I spat out, "but this is our fight, not his, so keep it between us."

Turning to head towards my room, I hoped she'd get the hint and leave. I wasn't scared of her—and besides—she agreed she wouldn't try to kill me until the twenty days were up. I had seventeen left.

But instead, she grabbed my hand, pulling me backwards until our noses nearly crashed together. She smelled like vanilla and burned matches, an alluring yet confusing scent.

"Our fight?" She asked, lowering her voice.

I narrowed my eyes. "Yes."

"Fight for me then," she whispered.

Without even thinking, I grabbed her shoulder, pushing it back and trapping her opposite arm behind her back. She let out a yelp in surprise, but I didn't even flinch. If she wanted to play this game, I'd play it too—call this 'playing along'.

"Don't test me, Ash," I spat out.

After discovering I was too strong for her to wriggle out of my grip, she took a step forward, digging the heel of her boot into my shin to send me reeling away from her.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" She said, rolling up her sleeves, "doing what we're meant to do."

I regained my posture. "And what is that?"

"Hating each other."

She didn't hesitate to lunge towards me, landing a jab in the side of my stomach as she brushed past. But I simply swung back, knocking her in ribs before she could slip away. The next few minutes were filled with missed punches, blocked upper-cuts, trash-talking from both parties, and neither of us wanted to give up.

But when I said I was good at fighting, I meant it.

While she was busy on offense, I was analyzing her every move, finding patterns in the way she'd attack. I knew her tactics now, and she couldn't surprise me anymore.

So when she tried to throw another punch, I didn't even bat an eye when I caught her fist in my palm, grabbing her waist with my other and pinning her against the kitchen counter before she could even realize what was happening. Her hips hit the marble surface, resonating a painful thud into the quiet room.

She winced, squeezing her eyes shut at the impact.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" I frowned, "losing."

She didn't respond at first, obviously a little shaken from my previous move. I didn't want to hurt her, but it was my job, and she was egging me on. But that's not what threw me off. A stiff sigh escaped her lips a few seconds after, and she leaned her head against my shoulder, breath heavy with defeat.

I didn't know how to feel.

Her head was on my shoulder.

That...shouldn't be happening.

"Ash?" I asked, tilting my head, "Ash, what are you doing?"

She didn't answer, letting her hands go limp in my own, and shaking her head. Was this her way of admitting defeat? I couldn't read her, and I could feel the warmth of her breath hitting my chest as she let her forehead rest there for what felt like an eternity.

"Mhm," she mumbled, "can I call you Lou?"

What the hell was going on?

"No, you can't," I said, "you're not supposed to know my name."

"That doesn't change the fact that I know it."

"Ash?" I asked.

She lifted her head, staring at me with watery eyes. "What?"

I opened my mouth, trying to ask her a million questions at the same time. Did I hurt her too badly? Why was she suddenly so quiet and meek? What happened to the girl that ran her mouth off, begging for me to fight her like it was the only thing she'd ever wanted?

I didn't know what to say to her.

So I just said: "Nothing."

But it was a mistake.

Seeing her look so vulnerable threw me off, and I didn't even take into consideration that none of it was real. She was a manipulator—it was what she was good at—and when she was pushed into a corner with no way out, it was only reasonable for her to act her way out of it.

So when a grin crept onto her lips, my heart dropped.

"Too easy, darling," she said, "too easy."

I didn't even realize I had lost my grip on her, until she kneed me in the gut, sending me flying onto the floor with a pain spreading across my body. I nearly hit my head on the coffee table, but I managed to duck just in time.

"Did you really think you could hurt me?" She laughed, "please, you fell for that like a child."

Dammit.

"That's the thing about us Ashes, Louis," she continued, glaring at me as she walked past, "where there's Ash, there's smoke."

I watched with blurry eyes as she stopped outside of the window, her figure illuminated by the moonlight streaming in. She turned, sending me a smirk.

"And smoke slips right through your fingers," she whispered, "better luck next time, darling."

And she left.