His Fairytale, My Folklore

"Gwen!" came a panicky voice from down the hall of the mansion I inherited years ago.
I grabbed the gun taped under the single drawer in my night stand. Jumping up, I ran down the hall to the bathroom where the screams were still coming from the panicking person's throat. I broke down the door without a second thought, only to see Savannah, a twelve year old girl, sitting on the toilet.
I sighed and shut the door as best as I could with it being broken, putting the gun in the waist band of my jeans, "What happened?"
"I'm bleeding!"
"Where?" I asked, very confused because I saw no blood.
She blushed, and whispered, "In my special place."
"Special place..." I trailed off, then, "Oh! Umm, sweetie, haven't you had health?" She shook her head. "What is wrong with school systems now?" I sighed. "Okay, I'll be right back, don't move."
"Where are you going? Am I okay?"
"I'm going to get you some fresh panties, and yes, you're okay."
I sighed and walked out of the bathroom, closing the broken door. How do you explain a period to a twelve year old who is scared out of her mind that she's dying?
"Okay," I said, handing Savannah a new pair of panties. I crouched in front of the sink, opening the cabinet and grabbing a pad for her. "This goes on your panties."
"How?"
"Why don't I do it for you?"
I took the panties and quickly unwrap the pad. That was awkward, and I had been in situations where it should have been way more awkward than that. After I finished putting the pad on her panties, I got the hell out of there.
As I was walking into the kitchen I heard a chuckle, "Awkward?"
I sighed, "Who's the mark and do you have a female agent to watch and help Savannah? She just got her first period."
He groaned, "God, I didn't need to know that."
"Mark?" I asked, walking over to the island he is leaning against.
"Right! There's a very high class party and it's open to eighteen to twenty-one year old girls. The mark is the best friend of the boy who's throwing it." He slid a manila folder across the island. "His name is Michael Flanner."
"Flanner?" I asked, opening the folder. "The big arms dealer?"
"Yeah, you're working for the CIA and FBI on this one. They've been working for eighteen months on this, don't screw it up."
"Thanks for the pep talk," I said sarcastically.
He gave a small smile, "Anything for my favorite niece."
"I'm the only niece you talk to Uncle Rich," I pointed out.
"Yeah, and I hate that my sister is crazy enough to leave you."
"You're the messenger for all the agencies and my mother and I. Besides, my father left too. It was years ago, I'm fine with it."
"The whole tough spy thing, it's gonna be hard to keep up."
I smirked, flipping through the papers, "Nah. I find it fun."
He shook his head, "I gotta go kiddo, I'll be back at eight to pick you up."
"Y'sure you don't wanna help me explain a period to a twelve year old that hasn't had a health class in her entire life?"
"Oh, I'm sure. There's a reason I have all boys."
I rolled my eyes and said good-bye to my uncle as I read the file.
"Michael Justin Flanner, 20. Son to George Michael Flanner, the biggest arms dealer in the eastern United States. Major player in arms deals from Europe, the Middle East and Africa. Michael is set to take over when his father turns fifty, and they want to make sure he has a wife to carry on the line. The party is for his best friend, Henry Howard Henly.(Yeah, Triple H! Like the Wrestler!) You are to pose as one of the women that are there for the party, but act interested in Michael. He will be attracted to you, with the lovely dress I helped pick out, along with the heels and wig. You can change your eye color if you feel the need. You are to lead him to a room, knock him out, and look for the kitchen. They are suppose to be selling there tonight. High class people in one place for a party isn't suspicious. There should be a dress on your bed with heels and a wig. Hope you have fun, Sweets."
I looked at the picture of the guy, Michael, and smiled. He may have been a bad guy, but he was cute. Typical surfer. Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, a deep tan and muscles galore. Yummy.
"Who's the hunk?" asked John.
I looked up at him from across the island, "No one you need to concern yourself with."
He rolled his eyes, "What ever you say, Sweets."
"You need to stop hanging out with my cousin."
"Why?"
"Because we both know you're just trying to make Carlos jealous."
"Nuh-uh!"
I rolled my eyes, looking back down at the file.
"Gwen, I'm ready."
I bit my lip and looked up at John, "You wanna tell her about a period?"
"There's a reason I'm gay."
"Damn it," I cursed, low enough so Savannah didn't hear me. I pouted, "Please? I have to get ready and he's coming to get me in an hour." Yeah, that was a lie. One good thing, and bad thing, about being a spy, you lie, a lot.
"Ugh! Fine, go get ready!" I smiled and jumped over the island to hug him. "Savannah, come on. I'm helping you."
She blushed, "But I'm bleeding from my special place."
I stifled a laugh in John's shoulder, he didn't even try to hide his laugh, "She was stuck in that house 24/7, wasn't she?"
I shrugged, "I think so."
"Let's do this Savannah."
"Why am I bleeding from my special place?"
I pulled away from John and quickly ran upstairs. I saw a box on my bed with a note on it. I rolled my eyes and grab the note off the box.
"Did I forget to mention that it's a Masquerade? A spy's best friend."
"Yes it is," I muttered with a smile.

"Wow," my cousin smiled. "You look," He paused. "Just wow."
"I'm suppose to stand out."
"Out of your comfort zone, Sweets?"
I bit my lip and nodded, "I don't like it, but when have I ever?"
"Come on, I heard John told Savannah what a period is, so I don't want to get questions."
I laughed and got in the Van. My red dress matched the wig I had on. The pumps I had on were easier to run in than spikes and the mask was a creme color with black lace all over it. I took a deep breath and turned to the team to see who was on my side. I took off the mask and glared at my cousin.
"What?" he asked. "He volunteered," he defended
"I couldn't let my little sister go on a mission without me."
"Why not?" I asked.
"You're my little sister. I have to look out for you."
"You couldn't have stopped her. She was gonna pull the trigger no matter what. You were blinded, it happens. You learn, you move on."
"That's what you say."
Jamie, my cousin, handed me an ear bud and a microphone. I took them and hid the microphone in my cleavage. The ear bud went in my right ear and it we did a quick test, along with my microphone. I grabbed my fake ID and my gun.
"Turn," I said to all the guys. Yeah, my team was all guys, my brother was, sadly, one of them for that mission.
"Why?" Justin, my brother, asked.
"Where do you think my gun goes? I have no purse."
"Oh God," he groaned.
They turned around and I took the gun and put in in the thigh holster on my left thigh. I pulled my dress down and cough. They looked at me and Jamie handed me a folder.
I heard the van start and I tensed my leg muscles so I won't fall when the van turned. I opened the folder and read it over. I look at my fake ID out and glared at the name.
"Stacey Greta Hotma?" I snapped. "Someone been listening to too much Fountain Of Wayne lately."
Jamie smirked, "Don't be jealous."
"Of what?"
"My skills."
I rolled my eyes and threw the folder at him. I am the daughter of a banker and I love attention, I chanted in my mind for a few moments. Ew. I actually hated attention, yet I had to attract it. I was usually called to blend in. I'm cute, but not beautiful. I'm short, but not too short. My hair is average. My green eyes are the only thing that set me out, but they can be covered with colored contacts.
"Do I need to come back there?" came a voice I hadn't seen the owner of in over three years.
"Dad?" I crawled to look in the front seat. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Watch your language!" snapped the woman in the front seat.
Okay, maybe it wasn't all guys. "You've lost the right to tell me what to do when we signed those papers. I'm emancipated. Now let's get this shit over with, so I can go home and get the kids lunches for tomorrow."
"You're wasting your talent."
I groaned, "I'm helping people. And I'm not being shot at every hour of the God, damn day. Get the fuck over it. You have one perfect child, you don't need another."
I glanced out the window. A guy in a light green tee-shirt glanced at me and said something to the driver. I could see a gleam and the tip of a knife. He rolled down his window slightly.
"Slow down."
"What?"
"Do it!" Our car slowed down a bit. "Mom, give me your knife."
"What? Why?"
"Oh my, God! Stop questioning me and do it!"
She handed me her lucky knife. I reached around my dad and rolled the driver's side window down. I threw the knife and it hit the back, right tire of the car next to us. They swerved and stopped in front of us. I opened the side door to the van as it slowed to a stop. I got out and walked to car, reaching for my gun in the process.
"Who are you?" I asked firmly, pointing my gun at the person who got out of the car.
He had a sadistic smile, "The last person you'll ever see."
I rolled my eyes and shoot him. No one in the van got out, or flinched. Lovely family, right? I got closer to the car and noticed that the driver was stabbed. He coughed and looked at me, rolling down the window.
He had a sad smile, "You," he coughed, and his blood came out. "FBI, leak. Hit man."
I got over to the door and opened it, "The FBI has a leak." He nodded, weakly. "You're a hit man." He nodded. "Why would you tell me this?"
"I'm under cover."
I cursed and looked for his ID and badge. He coughed again. I flinched, feeling his blood get on my chest and neck. He sputtered an apology, but ignored it. I opened the center consul and took out the false bottom. I saw his ID and badge. His name was Sebastien Helse. He has a picture of a pretty woman and two little boys in there.
I closed my eyes for a second, and took my phone out of the top of my dress. I dialed the hospital for government agents. Sebastien was getting weaker.
"Yes?"
"I have an under cover agent, he needs medical attention fast."
"Where are you?"
"I'm a mile south of you on Frier Street."
"Be there in two minutes."
I shut my phone and sighed, "They'll be here soon, Sebastien. But I need to know where you live."
"Oak Field. 453"
"Is the mission I was about to go on compromised?"
He coughed, more of his blood getting on me. I suppressed the urge to cringe again. "Yes."
"Okay. Justin!" I called. He jogged over. "Stay with him till the ambulance comes."
"Where are you going?"
I ripped the dress so it was above my knee, "I have to tell the news to his family."

I walked into the hospital, no one stopping me. I walked straight back, knowing the family that could get in were confused, but they also knew not to question things. I walked to a nurse, still in my ripped dress, heels, and wig. She looks up at me then pointed to the right. I nodded and followed her directions.
I got to the back and saw a security guard. He put up his hand, as if to stop me. I just kept walking, dodging his arm as it tried to grab me. He caught my arm before I could make it through the door. I huffed and flipped him, making him land on his back.
"I'm sure I could kill you," I hissed. "Don't make me."
"Who are you?" he asked.
I gave a dry laugh, "A myth. A lie. A fairytale. Take your pick."
I walked off after that, going to the only room that has a guard at the door. I walked past them, glad they didn't ask for anything. All I had on me, not that I have anything with my real name on it to begin with, was my fake ID. I pushed the doors open and the cool air hit my bare legs, making goose bumps pop up. I held back a shiver as I continued to the back, where the agent was safe and alive.
"Who?" I asked.
"I don't know," he answered honestly.
"Agency?"
"High ranking FBI."
"How high?"
"At least level nine."
"That's over a hundred-fifty personnel."
He looked past me and sat up slowly. I made no attempt to help, knowing he will not take it anyway. "They know about you."
I stayed calm, "I don't know what you're talking about,"
He chuckled, "I know it's you. I know of your rep, but you're labeled a ghost, a fairy tale for the spy kids."
"I still don't know what you're talking about," I sighed.
"Thank you," he sighed.
I gave a nod, "I told your family. They're expecting a phone call."
"Of course," he sighed, again.
I patted his leg, "I have school tomorrow." I turned to the door and stopped, "Oh, and tell anyone about me, and you'll drop dead."
"Got it," he nodded.
"I'm not kidding, the government likes it's secrets."
I walked out, not even stopping to thank the guards. I had to walk three miles home. I sighed and took off my heels. I started jogging, listening to my family argue through the coms. I pulled it out and stopped. I dropped it on the ground and stomped on it, hoping it hurt their ears more than it hurt me, and ignoring the pain of the metal now in my foot. I then took the microphone and stomped on that too.
The rest of the way home, I was emotionless, like always. The sun was gone, and the stars and moon were bright. I walked into the house, going straight to my room, not even bothering to turn the lights on. I went to my bathroom in my room and cleaned the blood off of me. I pushed back the tears and quickly changed into baggy sweats and a white tank-top.
I curled up under my blankets willing the pain in my foot to go away and pushing the tears back. Every time I killed someone, I always wanted to cry. They could have killed fifty people, but does that justify me killing them? I didn't think so. Sure, they did something wrong, but no one needs to die unnaturally.
"You should be asleep with that foot wrapped," came the accented voice I loved so much.
I looked at the owner of the voice, "Thought you were in Bangkok."
"Got done early," he shrugged.
"What was the mission this time?"
"You know I can't tell you," he sighed, pushing his hair back with his hand. I gave him a look. "Right, you are the high level of clearance."
I nodded, "Yes, I am. So was it Hale? Or Fells who sent you?"
"Fells," the wonderful boy sighed, sitting at the foot of my bed, facing me.
"So you had to kill someone," I commented. "And you weren't in Bangkok to begin with."
"Your sister."
"And did you?"
"Yes," he whispered.
"Which one?" I found myself asking.
"Dana."
I nodded, "Was she the leak?"
"No," he said softly. "But I have ten suspects. I'm not exactly sure who." He looked up at me with the most serious face I had ever seen on him, "They know about you and I will get them before they hurt you. Or the kids."
I knew that, but for his benefit I cursed in all the languages I knew, which is French, German, Russian, Spanish, Bosnian, Chinese, Hebrew, Mandarin and Japanese. He laughed softly at my words, knowing what I was saying. I fell forward, and crawled over to him, leaving the warm blanket behind for his warm embrace. I put my head in his lap. He strokes my hair while humming a tune as I continue to silently curse, but at the situation, not for his benefit.
"You know," he said, finishing with his humming. "You never did tell me who you wanted to meet."
I shrugged, stopping my cursing, "There's no one else to meet." I looked up to him, "You've been gone over three months."
He looked down at me, "I know."
There was no apology. You can't apologize in our line of work. It could get you killed. Or flipped. And if your flipped, you're as good as dead.
"Stop thinking," he whispered, ghosting his fingers over my face.
I smiled softly, "You can't stop thinking."
"Fine," he smirked. "Then think about the first time we met."
I giggled; something I only do with him. "Why?"
His smirk turned into a smile, "Just do it."
"I kinda wanna hear how you two met," came Carlos' voice.
"Me too," came John's.
"Oh," he whispered, continuing to stroke my hair. "That's what the blinking light means."
I rolled my eyes, my smile slipping as I looked at the two boys who didn't knock, "Give me a reason I shouldn't beat you two?"
"Uh," Carlos said dumbly.
"We just had sex," John stated bluntly, obviously changed in the year he has been here, making Carlos blush and hit his arm lightly.
I nodded, "Good for you."
"I knew it," the accent whispered in my ear.
I looked up at him, knowing he could see the smile in my eyes, "As did I."
"Ooo," John said, mocking a teenaged girl, jumping onto my bed. "Where does it start?"
I looked at him, "Can you handle it?"
"Handle what?"
"Hearing your story again?" He flinched slightly. "And it will be way more detailed than you think."
He nodded, "Fine, do it."
And so, the story was told.