Memory

I felt eyes following as I paced around the den, assured that Erik saw some resemblance toward a wolf, stalking its prey. Assured that he was scared, doubly by the fact of his eyes following my every move as he waited fearfully for me to speak. Zac hadn't said a word but watched me much like the other man conveniently strapped to a chair. Minus the chair, duct tape, and cowardly look to his eyes.

I was waiting for Erik to say something. I'd asked him a question and he has yet to answer it. But I didn't ask him any more, just went on with my continuous circuit around the room. The only sound in the room was that of my soft footsteps and the hum of the air conditioning which was really beginning to annoy me. Eventually, Erik made the one mistake to set me off.

"So . . . How's life?" he asked.

I'd happened to be nearing him on my race against the wind I was making around the couch so I could punch him in the face. "Just peachy, no thanks to you." I said in a polite tone, as if I were commenting on the weather. "Are you ever going to answer my question?

He didn't look at me when he responded. "I don't know.

It was silent again as I evaluated Erik's demeanor. He wouldn't look at me, constantly shifting his gaze around me, avoiding my piercing gaze. I didn't even need to hear his racing heartbeat or see his sweaty palms to know he was lying, but I felt like humoring him.

"You don't know?"

"No." I nodded slowly.

"So how did they contact you?"

"They called me."

"And how did they get your phone number?"

"I'm in the books."

"Your cell phone number isn't."

"They called on the house phone." Liar, liar; pants on fire.

"You don't have a house phone." I was glaring now. If he didn't tell me what I asked of him, he'd have more than just a busted lip and a bloody nose. Erik fidgeted, uncomfortable and stalling for a seemingly convincing story. "Who contacted you, Erik?"

"I don't know! They just called me with a proposition with the promise of a payout if I did as they asked! They didn't even follow through with the payments!"

"Oh? Well, that changes everything–" Erik's eyes brightened with a glimmer of hope, "–yeah I guess I should just bust down into tears right now and beg for your forgiveness. Wait, that's not right. I should just punch you again because no payment doesn't absolve you of your former actions. Idiot."

"I don't know who contacted me, Fallon! I swear on it It was all anonymous!" he pleaded, struggling against his bindings.

"Really? So how did you know who to call when you left me stranded in the middle of a mission? Hmm? Don't lie to me, Erik."

"What? I'm not lying!" He protested.

I raised an eyebrow. "No? Then do me a favor and look me in the eye when you answer a question." His eyes stared past me at the wall behind. "Can't do it, can you?"

Head hanging, he mumbled something incoherent. "What? I didn't catch that," I mocked.

Looking up at me with sorrowful eyes, he said, "I'm sorry, Fallon."

My lips tightened into a terse frown as I leaned in to whisper into his ear. "It's too late for apologies, Erik." He shook his head sadly, facing the ground again, mumbling sorry's that had lost their affect long ago. To see a grown man so repentant was agonizingly pitiful. It was something I'd normally expect from someone who had realized their fate and was trying to beg forgiveness for what they'd done.

"How long," I started, then cut off unexpectedly, my voice not wanting to work, "How long had you been planning it before the night I broke into Zac's house?"

He didn't bother picking his head up. "The day before we hacked his camera system."

I was so infuriated that I hadn't picked up on it sooner, I marched away from Erik and flipped his coffee table into the air. How could I be so stupid? It seems so obvious now! Why else would he fight me so much about his purposeful mistake? I had known it then; I was just too naive, too self-absorbed, to admit that anyone would ever think of going against me. My ego was so inflated that it blotted out all possibilities of that ever happening.

I feel like such an idiot.

Swearing profusely, I slammed my fist into the wall, my arm sinking in to just below my elbow, coupled with an enraged shout of frustration. Frustration directed at Erik; those with the intention of murdering me; myself. Most importantly myself.

I wanted to punch something again.

Zac was approaching me slowly, arms stretched out to restrain me from further damage to my surroundings. Erik was still slumped in the chair, back to mumbling his unnecessary apologies. Zac slowly pulled my arm from the hole I punched in the wall, careful to not have it scratch against the jagged points of the wooden boards I broke, one hand secured me in place. I hadn't noticed that I was shaking, violently, until my arm was set back at my side, bloodied and trembling. Breathing heavily, I shook my head slowly, pulling away from Zac's comforting embrace. I had begun turning back toward Erik when there was a knock on the door.

Everybody in the room visibly stiffened, Erik shooting up from his slumped position and Zac moving protectively to my shoulder. I was watching the door warily, half expecting it to implode and dust to kick up and dark bodies to rush in, wielding guns. Instead, there was another small knock. I walked slowly to the door and peered through the eye hole then pulled away immediately, scowling. With an annoyed groan, I opened the door, keeping the safety chain in place.

On the other side of the plank of wood stood the neighbor from downstairs, the one with a fetish for women's fuzzy slippers. He was in normal attire now, having ditched his too-short housecoat somewhere in exchange for a pair of slacks and an old collared shirt that looked Hawaii had just vomited it onto him.

Hawaii was smart for not keeping it.

"What is it?" My barely concealed growl scratched at my throat. Despite that, my pissed-off look must have intimidated him a bit.

"I, uh–I heard some loud crashes and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay," he stuttered.

The guy was lucky I decided to keep the chain on the door otherwise I might have hit him too. Being scared of me earlier didn't stop him from leaning toward the five inch crack the chain allowed, trying to peer around me into the interior of the apartment.

"Everything's fine, thank you for your concern," I spoke in clipped tones then slammed the door shut on his face. Judging by the small [i[thunk before the crashing of the door, I'd say I managed to hit him too.

I ignored Zac's inquisitive stare and moved back to Erik, who had relaxed slightly.

"Who contacted you, Erik?" He looked into my eyes and his brow furrowed at the inner conflict raging inside of him. He shook his head slowly, his eyes apologetic. "Please, Erik." His head whipped around more fervently now, eyes shut.

His voice was laced with agony as he whispered softly, "I can't, I can't."

"Why not?"

"She would kill me if I did. They're watching me, Fallon." He glanced up with tortured eyes. "Constantly. I can't get away from them. If I tried to run, they would catch me. If I tried to hide, they would find me. They would kill me if they found out you were here; that I helped you. I can't live my life on my own anymore. There is always someone watching, always someone waiting for me to break for it so they'd have justifiable cause in killing me. They told me you were corrupt, that you didn't listen to orders. That was their reason. I tried to get you to stop, tried to prevent you from ending up in their trap. You see how well that worked.

"But you can't not obey orders. It's like it's encrypted into you, something you are forced to do whether you like it or not. They take away your free will in a way so that you don't even realize it's happened. It's something that you're born into, that you were bred to do.

"I didn't have a choice in my life, Fallon. They made it seem like I did, made me believe that I could do what I wanted. And I could, as long as it was what they wanted me to do. They make us who they want us to be, to fit the criteria so perfectly it was a mold and we were liquid steel. And the entire time that I thought you were dead, I wondered how you managed to break free of that mold. How you got away from their eager, corrosive hold. I never figured it out, Fallon." He watched me with watery eyes, his head swaying from side to side slowly. A grim smile twisted his features.

"What are you talking about? Who did this?"

"The rebels. Those who work in secret against the established structure to eventually take over it. The people who tried to kill you. Those who will stop at nothing until they get to their destination; wiping out anything that poses as a potential threat. You were a threat to them, Fallon. One, single person was enough of a danger to their goal that you had to be killed." He shook his head in wonderment this time. "I still don't see how one person could have upset them, frightened them even with their thousands of bodyguards. But somehow, you did. You can take them down, Fallon. You alone could have. That's why she contacted me."

It was my turn to shake my head in disbelief. "No, no. It can't be," I whispered, my eyes wide as I stared at him. He wasn't lying. He smiled at me sadly, a tear spilling down his cheek. "No!" My throat burned from the untraceable emotions not just bubbling in my chest, but wreaking havoc and mayhem against their cage, clawing at my insides in their desperate attempt to get out all at once. Each puzzle piece, one by one, was slowing dropping into place but I kept picking them back up and throwing them away, convinced that they were wrongly positioned.

"The Commander was the one who called me, the one who planned for your demise."