"(un)pretty me"
June 20, 2008 Washington D.C. 2310 hours Paige stepped into the room taking in the gloomy richness, the sofa and chairs placed around a small table, the arrangement of fresh flowers, the large mahogany desk, the soft glow of the lamps, she took everything in. The killer-become missed nothing. The old man that sat behind the large desk looked up briefly and froze upon recognizing her. He took his glasses off slowly and tilted his head with a slight smile on his face. Paige crossed the room standing in front of him. "I knew we would meet again some day. You look well...though there's something different about you," he said studying her face. "It's been awhile since California," she said to him softly. "You shouldn't have come back here." He shrugged a little bit, "not my choice, really. They told me to come here, so I did." "You should have said no," she said quietly. "Who am I to say no? To Them?" he waved his hand. "You and your people...took everything from me. Everything that I had built and that I had made. I had nothing left...certainly not the position to say no." "You shouldn't have come here, to the coast." "The east coast is okay. I miss the Californian woods, though," he had said so thoughtfully with a wistful smile upon his face. "Sit," he gestured to one of the two high back leather chairs in front of his desk, "it's been a long time since I've just had a nice conversation. Let's talk." And he smiled that grandfather like smile of his. Paige glanced at the chairs then back to him. "I didn't come here to talk." "No," he sighed, "I suppose you didn't." He paused closing the folder in front of him. "You look different, tell me what is different about you." "I'm not the same scared little girl you took advantage of in California," Paige said evenly. "How is that boyfriend of yours?" he asked with a gleam in his eyes. Jaime, of course, he was referring to. The one she drugged up and now lay unconscious in his own home so she could use him as an alibi. Yeah, that boyfriend. But she squashed the guilt and steadied the twinge in her belly to give no satisfaction and offered only a smile to the old man. "You are different," he nodded his approval, "you grew up a little." He smiled softly again, "I'd like to think I had something to do with that." "You did," she assured him. "You taught me a lot of things over those few days." "I'd like to think I teach everyone I meet a little something about themselves." "I don't think," Paige said softly, "that they were all good things." "No," he said, "I don't suppose they were. Still," he said standing up, "what you came to do, you can not." "I can't?" Paige laughed softly, "and that would be because?" "I am Greenlisted. Your people assured me my safety, even from former...friends." "They're not my people anymore," she said evenly as the smile relaxed from his face. It was news to him. "I don't work for them and as for you being Greenlisted? Doesn't mean jack shit to me." "I see," he said evenly. "You did very bad things to me. I only hope that where you're going...is worse than your time spent here." "Do you believe in God then?" he asked easily as he folded his hands across his protruding belly. Paige caught herself, tilting her head, "what?" she said softly after some time. "Do you believe in God? The Almighty? Maker of Heaven..." "I know who it is," she cut him off her eyes narrowing. "Do you?" She studied him trying to figure out where he was working this angle. Was he trying to buy time? Did he think the guard was merely incapacitated? Surely he wouldn't think she'd be that stupid? "No, I don't." He nodded his head, "I see. That's too bad." "I'm not the one with a weapon on me," she said evenly. "Maybe not tonight, maybe not this year even...but one day you'll be in my position. I however, do not fear death or what comes after it. I may have been an evil person but I've made my peace with God. I will arrive at the gates of Heaven and be forgiven my sins..." Paige snorted, "no God would forgive your sins." He shrugged, "even a small part of you is curious if He really exists." He eyed her contemptuously. She hated how he knew things about her. Things given to him by a traitorous hand. "You and you're science," he spat the last word out. Paige flinched as if he had touched her. "You deserve nothing less than a slow painful death..." "And you're pissed at that, too," he waved his hand returning to behind his desk. "This night will provide no purpose for you. No revenge." "This isn't about revenge. I can't do what you did to me," she shook her head. "Then what? What purpose does killing me serve?" "A couple...actually," she shrugged as she raised her weapon. "A couple of my associates want your people. Killing you insures that. It also insures that you won't hurt anyone else...namely me." She said it so matter-of-factly it seemed to irk him. "Though I must admit, me killing you is kind of ironic." The old man had nothing to say to that. Imagine that...him without a comeback. "You can sit if you'd like," she said flatly. The old man eyed her before sitting down and leaning back in the chair. "I did enjoy our time together in California. You're different than most people I deal with. But my time has come to pass, eventually these things do, you know," he smiled gently at her. "I am ready to..." The last word was cut off by a bullet into his forehead. And Paige quivered the slightest bit pushing the thoughts and emotions aside. How she had drugged the one person who cared and loved her in order to use him as an alibi. How she had just killed a human being in cold blood. How she had deliberately sought him out to do so. What kind of a person does that? An empty person, she told herself. Just empty. How dare the old man be ready to die. She was supposed to steal his life, take it and rip it from him so that she may be vindicated of all the wrong committed. This was all about self-preservation, not murder, not the killer-become, not death. It was about life. Her life. And her ability to keep it. The old man would never hurt anyone again. He wouldn't be able to hurt her again. She lowered the weapon still studying his eyes. There was nothing in them. Once again, she looked for proof of an afterlife only to be disappointed. "Pfft," she snorted at the body, "you and your Heaven." She turned away disgusted and walked out of the apartment stepping over the body of the dead guard that she had killed without thought. She watched as the alarm box at the front door light up then proceded to the elevator. She watched the entrance to the apartment from the safety of her car. She pulled a blunt from her stash in the glove compartment. It was the last one she had and Baz had given it to her. She contemplated smoking it the entire week and now, for some reason, seemed like the right time. It only took 15 minutes for the first Section operatives to show up. They stayed only a few minutes before leaving and minutes later another Section man went inside. He was carrying a big black box. She took a long drag of the joint careful to blow the smoke out of the window and remembered the stories. The cleaners were special agents. They were very special agents. She pinched the roach out and tucked it back into the glove compartment. She would keep it as a reminder of Baz. He had rolled it and it was the only physical substance she had of him. She turned the car on and eased it into first. Maybe, she thought as she pulled out on to the street, maybe this killing thing would come easier the next time. She made her way to I-95 and turned on to it heading south. After all, there were still others on her list... Return