At the Beginning With You

In all his twenty-two years of life, Calder had never been this agitated.

Well, if he was being honest with himself, an exception could be made in this case. For, ever since meeting Ash, his life had been nothing but full of agitation and stress.

So while it was true that his agitation was at new heights, compared to what he had endured or would endure anyway, it was nothing. Nonetheless, that did not help in the least. In fact, it only served to heighten his apprehension of what was to come.

And, his continued pacing of the hotel room was doing him no good, apart from wearing out the already threadbare rug in the middle of the room.

If there was one thing that Calder would describe himself as, one quality that was predominantly Calder’s, it would be his calmness. He possessed the rare talent of remaining truly calm and collected in dire situations, and from his profession, that was really saying something.

He had been in more life and death situations than he could count, and each of his missions had been more dangerous than the last. Guns didn’t faze him, and he had quite a few of those pointed at his head for him to ascertain this fact, nor did swords, knives and other pointy objects sticking out of some part of his body. Weapons didn’t affect him, or more accurately, human weapons didn’t affect him, and only served to annoy him when in the rare instances, he was harmed by them.

So it was a bit of an understatement to say that he had a high tolerance level for pain, even compared to those of his own kind. Of course, most of his…skills were attributable to the mandatory Training of his clan and even then, despite its rigorous nature and intensity, he had passed with flying colours.

He was no stranger to death either. It was almost inevitable, given what he did for a living for him to encounter death at every turn and corner. He had seen people die right in front of him. He had seen his friends, his family die in front of him.

And once upon a time, he might have allowed his famed calmness to shatter, to cry, to rage against the unfairness of it all. To let emotions fill him and turn him into a being driven by his feelings and not cold, hard logic.

But now? That was all in the past, and now, his only response was to ruthlessly squash any emotions that he would experience and let his mask fall into place. Some might call him an emotionless bastard, but Calder thought that that title was better reserved for his brother.

His gaze drifted to the black bag sitting at the end of the single bed, inconspicuous, really, unless you really looked at it. Crammed with the few personal items that Calder had, mainly consisting of his newly purchased weapons and some clothing, it was just an ordinary bag.

However, the significance of this bag laid in what it represented, and less of its actual contents. Soon, in a matter of a few hours, he would see her again, really see her. And to be in her presence, basking in her warm personality…He cursed silently, berating himself for even thinking about those things. God, he was acting just like a little boy eagerly awaiting Christmas! Although with a lot more trepidation, given the current circumstances.

Picking up the bag, his thoughts momentarily flickered to his timing and the dilemma it presented. Whether intentional or not, his arrival coincided with their first encounter, and while it was beneficial for his purpose, he was not so sure that it would be beneficial for his state of mind.

He certainly had no wish to go through that again, but seeing as it had occurred not long after their first meeting…

At that time, he had been too consumed by his brother’s betrayal to see what was really going on, to what was happening to his charge. Bitterness at the world, at himself, had made him withdrawn and hindered on his abilities so much that his mission had almost ended before it had truly begun.

It had been complicated before; because he himself had no idea of what he was doing, but now, it was simple in itself, really. Just be himself, or rather, his old self.

And therein lay the crux of his problem: he simply could not act so cold and uncaring, as he had last time, not knowing what he knew and not feeling what he felt now. His mouth curled into a sneer as he came to a halt in front of the door.

He should have expected it.

He ran a hand through his hair and glared at the door, as if it had personally offended him. It was ironic that his infamous calm was choosing now, of all times, to desert him when he had experienced much more dangerous and difficult situations.

His hand closed around the doorknob.

But now was not the time to doubt himself and he would just have to trust that his method, his actions, would be enough to save her life…

With a muffled thump of finality, the door shut behind him.

…otherwise, his sacrifice would have been in vain.



The sun was out; the birds were chirping happily…and Ash? She just wished that she could go back to sleep. However, she knew that it was virtually impossible as once she woke up, regardless of it being intentional or not, she could not fall back asleep again.

Groaning aloud, Ash turned over and faced the blinking red numbers of her alarm clock. Her mouth dropped open in slight shock, and she rubbed her eyes, peering at the clock for a second time.

Nope, it was still seven in the morning. Wait…it was now officially 7:01am and Ash knew she was going crazy. She had never, ever, woken up so early in her entire life, and on a Sunday as well! She was rather expecting to wake up really late, given how she had spent the majority of the night thinking instead of sleeping.

And think she did.

No matter how much she tried to move on, no matter how deeply she buried those memories, it always came down to one thing.

She had no idea how to purge herself of the overwhelming feeling of guilt that always enveloped her when her mind conjured up the image of a pair of sparkling blue eyes and perpetually messy blonde hair. But was it really an inability to leave the guilt behind, or an unwillingness to do so? For, if she hadn’t been there, if she’d just left as he told her to, then maybe…

In the aftermath, those thoughts and the possibilities of what could have been or questions of ‘if’, had been relentlessly tormenting her, refusing to budge an inch, even when she fell asleep. Her dreams had been haunted by that scene over and over again, but sometimes she would dream that it hadn’t happened and they were still themselves. Two teenagers so deeply and undeniably in love, with the future so bright and happy in front of them.

And it was those dreams that had her waking up in the middle of the night, tears streaming silently down her pale cheeks and a deep ache in her heart. So many times before, she had yearned for the comforting touch of his hands on her shoulders, stroking through her hair, as he had often done to calm her down, and for his rich and infinitely caring voice to tell her that it was okay, that he would be with her.

But he wasn’t!

Ash blinked back tears and stared bleakly at the ceiling, trying not to cry, not to fall down into the waiting depression again…

Okay, Ash, think of something else. Anything else. She rubbed her eyes before slowly sitting up.

But it was just so hard. He had been her sun, her reason for living, the very sole of her existence. And when he had died, he had taken all the warmth out of her life, leaving her to flit through life with no meaning; a broken girl, burdened down by the consuming grief and guilt of his death.

In a sense, she herself had died, and the new Ash was only a ghost of her former self. But slowly, with time, she had gotten better, to the great relief of her family and friends, but she knew that she would never again be the same as before, be the same carefree, naive girl who only saw the goodness in the world, and the goodness in other people.

She had changed.

But for better or for worse, she could not say.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, Ash swung her legs over the side of the bed and once her feet touched the carpet, she gave a yawn and stood up.

Now, just what was she going to do at 7 am in the morning?



The early morning sun slanted through the blinds, casting strips of sunlight into the room but never touched the single figure at the desk, head bent as eyes scanned the papers before him.

A sigh escaped his lips and he paused, rubbing a hand roughly against his eyelids. With the ridiculous amount of paperwork in front of him, all waiting for his approval and signature, he would be lucky if he could even get a glimpse of the outside world.

Well, if you don’t count the ceiling-to-floor window behind him, giving him a view of the bustling city below him, then yes, he would be barricaded in his office for quite some time.

But he had long ago gotten used to staying inside. How could he not? After all, two years was more than enough time for him to adapt from the thrill of operating on the field to…this.

This consisted of being stuck day-in and day-out in his office, reading over the various assignment reports, occasionally doing a bit of pre-assignment intelligence gathering, not to mention the ever-increasing pile of paperwork for him to fill out and approve. However, his senses were still as sharp as they had once been when he was on active field duty—for he trained regularly—so he didn’t miss the tell-tale signs that he was no longer alone.

The loud thump of a folder landing on his desk broke the otherwise quietness in the room and he glanced up. After recognising the person hovering in front of his desk, he lowered his head and continued working. No one else could have barged into his office without permission and so carelessly dropped a folder on his desk without suffering some kind of a consequence. Except for one.

And currently, that person was standing right in front of him, an expression of contemplation on his normally cheerful face.

A hint of a smirk appeared on his face. “Thinking doesn’t suit you. What’s up?”

Without even having to look up, he knew that his best friend was frowning at the insult. However, his friend’s reluctance to even speak was certainly odd, as he would have usually been hard pressed to get him to shut up. It was so out of character that he paused in his reading and fixed his gaze on a pair of brown eyes that was looking anywhere but at him.

He watched as brown eyes finally landed on him. Or more specifically, on the folder that just had been dumped on the desk. His curiousity sparked, he reached for the folder and opened it, flipping through the pages.

Something caught his eye and he flicked back to where a particular paragraph had stood out.

Case Number: 00910483
Clearance: Classified
Assigned Agent (Primary): Connor McKingston
Assigned Agent (Secondary): Nicholas Coversten

His brow furrowed in thought as he scanned over the details of the case. It sounded simple enough, so why the high clearance? There was something in the case that he was probably overlooking, as a standard intelligence gathering did not need two agents, especially ones as skilled as Connor and him. Well, on second thought, not agents like Connor, at least. Only god knew how much his reputation had suffered after his last assignment.

Ever since that incident two years ago, he had been assigned to the more mundane part of the organisation and had never participated in a field assignment again. The failure of that particular assignment was still a sour reminder for him, and one that he was not likely to forget in a while. He was also willing to bet that the Council weren’t going to forget that any time soon, either.

Besides, he had been pulled out of active duty for quite a while now, and protocol dictated that the agent be re-inducted before accepting any cases. So for a case of this level to be assigned to him… But then and again, maybe they were compensating; he had been listed as the secondary agent.

(It was a precaution; to avoid anything of the like ever happening again—

He wasn’t stupid. He knew that his failure, or the cause of his failure, had unsettled the Council more than they would have liked to admit. And hence why he was pulled from fieldwork and placed in an environment where his every move and action was monitored carefully.

“So when do we leave?” In reply to his flippant question, a glare was sent in his direction but he ignored it. He resumed looking through the folder, pausing once in a while to carefully read a section before moving on.

He was aware that his friend had yet to make a move, but if he was happy to stand there, then who was he to disagree?

“Nick—”

“I’ll be fine.” A confident smirk accompanied his words, and remained on his face…until he stopped at a small picture clipped to a profile page.

—after all, their star, their perfect soldier, had failed so catastrophically—

Then he froze.

Emerald eyes stared back at him.

—But was falling in love a crime? A failure?)