Those Hollow Lies

The Strong Won't Survive

13/06/09 night time, maybe eleven?

I’d held Rosaline in the parking lot for a long time. She’d stopped crying, but I think it was all becoming too much for her. This had been the first time she was truly alone. William had retired, I’d left of my own accord and then Joe was arrested for treason that he never committed. The people she relied upon (even though she’d never admit that) had been snatched from her life in various ways to the point that she was left all alone to try and do it all herself.

She’d been breaking for so long now and it seemed that speaking to Joe today had been the final straw. Her walls had crumbled down and for the first time in a long, long time, she let me back in, closer than ever before.

Finally, she had picked herself up from the floor, pulled out of my hold and then made her way back inside the underground headquarter and then walked tall and stealthily to her room; none of the agents even noticing her. I wanted to chase after her, check to make sure that she was alright, but maybe she needed some time alone. Besides, if I knew Roz (and I liked to think that I knew her best) she’d probably put her defences back up, ten times stronger this time and not even let me back in.

I tried to act like everything was alright, but seeing Roz in such a state had shaken me a little. If she was getting won down by this mission then what did that mean for the rest of us who weren’t of the same ‘professional’ standard that she was. Some of the agents questioned my jumpy mood, but I shrugged it off, stating that seeing the reality of all this had stirred some past memories up. It was true; maybe they weren’t all of my memories, but hey, I still shared Roz’s.

As for her sudden disappearance? No one but me really cared. I guess whilst the cat’s away the mice will play, and with no angry, terrifying Roz around to hurl threats and insults at her agents, everyone worked a little slower and with a more relaxed atmosphere. It felt like betrayal to her and as I sat, searching through security footage, watching and listening to the others make jokes and remarks about their dark boss. I wanted to say something, but I knew that if anything kicked off, Roz’s temper would be higher than ever and there was a strong chance that there’d be a massacre.

I couldn’t even sleep when I turned in that night. Most of the agents went to bed early because of the silly hour that Roz required them all to be up, functioning and at their desks for. I was too worried about Roz. No one had seen her all day and the last time I saw her, she was sneaking off to her private chamber. After rolling over and looking at the clock for the millionth time that evening, I shoved the covers back, exposing my body to the chill of the stone room.

I had to check on her, I had to.

I pushed the heavy door open and took the three small steps to her room, raising my fist to knock on the door. I paused, mid knock, when I heard the sound of angry screams echoing around the quarter. My head snapped to the left and I saw the dim light shining down the corridor in the direction of the training room. There was really no award for guessing who was in there.

My lack of clothing was the last thing on my mind, and the sweatpants hung low on my hips as my bare feet froze at the touch of the icy stone floor. Roz was definitely not on top form right now and I was concerned for her. She was impulsive at the best of times, but when unfamiliar emotions were blended into the mix, then who knows how volatile she could be once there was a gun in her hands. She would shoot first and only think hours later when she was disposing of corpses.

The doorway to the training room was open and I peeked my head in, spying the visibly clammy Rosaline Harman, punching hell out of the biggest punch bag that we had to offer. She was in better shape than ever, that was for sure.

The shorts she wore revealed tightly toned legs and the cropped sport top showed off her rock solid abs. She wasn’t overly muscular either, but it was obvious that she was stronger than most people, just from the tightness of her small, young body. Her dark hair was raked back from her face, tied in a half bun on the top of her head, a few straggling strands falling out from the elastic restraints and sticking to the beads of sweat on her forehead. There was no make-up darkening her eyes and it was like the mask had been peeled away. I could see the raw emotion in her eyes, the anger on her lips as the sadness tore away at her heart.