Track Ops: 'Reflection'

Marce was painted different colors of confusion at everything that was said and done, starting with Ace. She just waltzed into the boy's mancave as if she owned it, not even giving him the slightest sideways glance. Marce decided it was best if he kept to himself for the most part. His op-like senses were tingling all over the place. There was a need to want to see and touch everything, like a child in a dinosaur museum. His inner curiosity was going to be his doom one day, he just knew it. It first started when he watched Ace walk away from him and to the glass table. And by "look", he meant stare at the same side to side stride she carried herself with. Her friend was staring at her too that quickly gained a glare from Marce.

"What happened to Greyson?"

"Who's Greys--"

"Ask me that again and I won't give you your present." Marce had hardly noticed that she pulled a gun out! He didn't make a move, watching her point it directly at the boy who could have pissed in his pants for all that Marce knew. His bristled chin quivered while he tried to come up with some explanation to save is ass and his 'present' while Marce rose an eyebrow at Ace.

"What's in the b-"

"You know, Arch.. I don't think you quite deserve this after peeking up my skirt when I was waiting outside."

"He did what?"

"Oh come on! I didn't mean to! You know I have a camera there!"

"So help me..." Marce muttered, sending Ace a return glare when she smirked at him before hurling something at the blundering fool across from her. It looked to be a small disk of some sort, much like a hard drive. As if on cue, Marce opened his mouth to ask a question that wasn't going to be answered, but all he got was a gun in hand. He looked down at it. Sleek. New. Nice.

"Is it all here?"

"Is what all here?"

"Along with a few extras. I found a few things I knew you'd enjoy messing around in Japan's. Now, where is it?"

"Where is what?" This time, his question was actually answered, though not verbally. Arch held up a card that he assumed had what Ace was asking for.

"I know it is. If not, you know what happens."

"What happens?" His answer was her hand pulling him out of the room and down the stairs. Marce was all types of puzzled and lost, not even thinking into the fact that Ace was holding his hand for the third time that day. The light from the mancave left, basking them in the darkness of outside. A day already passed and he hadn't even eaten lunch and dinner. Arch followed the two of them with paranoid eyes. Marce wanted to turn around and flash him a white-toothed smile that'd scare his zipper backwards, but he couldn't. Ace took his head and bent it down onto his level with a false, sweet smile on. No matter. The damage was long since done. Marce opened his mouth to whisper something, but his sentence was quickly cut off by Ace's advice.

Fake? Fake what?

He didn't have the chance to respond before she released him with the same fake smile before pulling him back out of the door and to his car. A street light flickered overhead, dousing them in a dimming yellow-orange light. He looked down at her as he wheeled himself over to the drivers door, climbing in without saying a word to him. He even ignored Arch if the man was still looking at them or not. A loud engine roar later and the two were out of there and down the road to his home. It was a 45 minute drive. A silent one.

Marce didn't even announce that they were home. He had tried his hardest not to fall asleep on the road. His eyes burned over and over with every street light the car passed. He would not have blamed Ace if she fell asleep. He was nearly there. The house loomed in front of him as he powered the car off, looking over to Ace with a light tap on her shoulder. That was notion enough.
 
Ace was silent the whole way back. She was waiting for Marce to finish the questions that he had started at Arch's, or for him to freak out about everything. Maybe for him to pull over and strip down naked to pull out his old clothes and tug them back off. He didn't do anything. Instead, he was silent, doing nothing but driving. The radio wasn't even on to break the tension. She wasn't sure if he was angry, brooding, or just mocking her by keeping up with the order to be silent.


She slowly started to fall asleep, her arms wrapped around the file and two spare guns. Her head tipped to the side and she relaxed until she was dozing.


Just as her dream started evolving into a rather steamy encounter, Marce tapped her and she flinched awake. She straightened up and cleared her throat, rubbing her face with one hand as she cradled everything else with the other. Feeling more awake now, she climbed out of the car and absently brushed a wrinkle from the skirt as she walked up to his front door with him.


Once they were inside, she dumped everything on the couch and turned to him.


"Greyson was murdered. The files are research. Arch is a pervert. The flash drive I gave him were American government files, mostly from the Pentagon. The card has over six million dollars on it. What happens if the money isn't there is I destroy him," she said quickly, unable to keep the information from him any longer.


No, that wasn't it.


She was unable to keep from talking to him. Shit.


"Most of the research is on the girls. You can have it," she added quietly, figuring that's all that he really cared about out of this trip anyway.
 
Marce listened to her mini rant absentmindedly. He was tired to the core, all of the day's events coming back to him in small floods. First, it was seeing her in the morning lying in his bed with nothing but tee on, after he saved her ass from Merenzo's. Then it was the awkward moment in the car once they parked at McDonald's. When he told her he would protect her and she asked him to promise. To the point where he spilled out that she had to sleep with him and watched her choke on her pancakes while he sipped listlessly at his Coke.

The rest started to zoom by. The car. Stabbing. Bob. The mall. Marce's eyes drooped at every event that flickered through his eyes fresh as if he were watching it in Blu-Ray. He frowned at the way she threw all of her junk where he was supposed to be asleep, when he remembered two things. The first: That wasn't junk. It was a couple of firearms and some information about the missing girls scattered around the world. He would be skirmagging through those things in the morning, he was sure. Information about the Pentagon for the lives of some girls. That seemed fair.

The second: He wasn't sleeping on that couch.

Marce gave Ace one look that said nothing. No expression. No hidden words. No jokes. Just eye contact. The look stayed until he finally tossed his keys on the floor without looking at where they skidded too, hearing them jangle somewhere across the tiles of the kitchen. The next thing to go was the blasted hoodie and hat. The two were shrugged off of his shoulder and hair, giving him room to flex his broad shoulders until they cracked satisfactorily, wearing a Iron Maiden shirt that toned his muscles. The articles of clothing were thrown on the couch too, joining the clutter of guns and files. He never broke his gaze with her, even when he grabbed her hand tighter and led her to where she knew she was going.

He closed the door and didn't bother locking it. It was just them, anyway. Let someone come through that door if they wanted to. They'd be in for it. A sliver of moonlight broke through the window behind them on the far wall, basking the two in a white glow. He gave her body a quick scan over. His jaw clenched.

"Ace."he said, not bothering to take a step towards her. He was a good boy all day, obeying everything she had told him and some. He had the silk to prove it. He had to remind her that she was still a criminal. His voice hid no embarrassment, fear, or sarcasm. It was blunt, straightforward, and not sugar coated at all, expression speaking the same.

"Get in the bed."
 
Looking up at Marce uncertainly as he didn't respond at first, Ace was starting to worry that he was going to smack her. She really had no reason to think that other than the fact that he was looking at her really strangely and she was sure he wanted to. Holding his gaze, she listened to the clatter of keys on the floor and watched as he tugged off the hat and slung his hoodie off. Standing there in the band tee and black pants, he was still unlawfully hot.


She was going to say something when he took her hand and led her down the hallway to the bedroom. Silent and staring at him as he shut the door, she almost jumped when he said her name.


Jesus, all of this silence was going to be the death of her..


She didn't react at first when he told her to get in the bed. At least, she didn't seem to outwardly. Internally she was processing his request. Completely ignoring the urge to figure out why he was ordering it, she tried to decide if it was a good idea from an unbiased point of view.


In other words, stop thinking about finding out how good that silk feels..


Sleeping with Marce would lead to something. Whatever that something was, was up in the air. On one hand she wanted to ravage him like crazy. On the other, she knew that even if they didn't wind up doing anything like that, they'd still end up in a position that wouldn't be normal. She knew this because she had a tendency to snuggle up to anybody she slept with, regardless of how much she hated them. It wasn't intentional - not like she has much choice when she's already asleep!


Ugh.


But.. Couldn't this create problems? They were supposed to hate each other and not work well together. Challenge each other and all that. Argue until death. Wind up in jail - her, at least. She longed for the comfort and companionship of an overdue snuggle, but..


She didn't dare.


"No. I'm sleeping on the couch," she said quietly, breaking the unnerving eye contact with him and turning to open the bedroom door back up so that she could go out to the living room.
 
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"No. You're not. You're sleeping in that bed."

As tired as he was, he was ready to dog her down about it, going as far as to grab her hand and yank her back into the room. This time, he locked the door. There was no way he was going to allow her to make rules and decisions in his house. This was his fortress where he could make all kinds of rules. Being an American Operative made way for a good credential as well. He wasn't going to use that on Ace. She wouldn't have fallen for it anyway. She had made it clear that she didn't care if he were an op or a damn executioner. Her job was to help him rescue those girls. Marce had nothing wrong with that.

But she was getting in that damned bed.

Marce looked at her for what she really was: a problem. A beautiful, gorgeous, body throbbing problem. But, for the time being and until further notice, she was his problem. "I'm tempted, believe me."he said while he purposefully didn't tell her exactly what he was talking about. She was a good guesser. He hadn't let go of her hand, letting it trail up to her chin which he cupped slowly with his palm. The gesture was affectionate. His gaze on hers was torn. His body was lost. Marce was a wreck, but a wreck that still had a train of thought on the right rails.

"Temptations will get me in trouble. You know that. I know that."he said, caressing her cheek as if he was doing as simple as making a PB&J. He kept his eyes on her face only to show her how serious he was. Always start verbal, Marce. Verbal first. Physical force if need be.

"I don't care one way or another what context you're taking this in, and I'm not going to soothe your thoughts either with promises that I don't want to touch you with a ten foot pole. People want you dead. I need you alive. Someone already tracked an op all the way to a McDonald's and stabbed you. I'm not letting that happen again."he said.

That's when the serious gaze and tone came in.

"It's not my job to protect you. Have you thought about that? It's not my duty to make sure you're fucking safe every minute of the day. It's actually my job to put you down. Think on it, Ace. How much of a government agent do you see in me now?"he asked, moving his thumb across her chin. Practiced restraint made his head stay where it was and not bend down towards her. "You're not an item to me and I'm not turning you in. You've been hiding your identity for the longest and yet you're letting me inside...in a sense."he replied quickly. Practiced restraint.

"Fight with me if you wish. Shoot me in the balls and lick your fingers for all I care. But in the end, Ace. You're...sleeping in...that bed." He looked deeper into those large pools of brown in front of him before his eyes darted to the window, causing his eyes to squint. He flicked his gaze away quickly and returned it back to her, stopping his caress long enough to bend his face close to hers. Practiced...restraint.

"Copy that?"
 
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Ace was very sorely tempted to point out that it would be very easy for her to leave the room despite him locking the door, since the lock was on the inside and it wasn't exactly a combo lock. For once she held her tongue, however, and just gazed up at him as he looked down at her. His comment about temptation got her attention and her heart tripped, which she suspected he meant to happen.


Damn it, Marce..


She didn't flinch away as his hand shifted to her chin, ensuring that she was looking up at him. It wasn't a hard grip, a commanding one, or even an intimidating one. He was being.. gentle. That was almost more frightening. She could see the different emotions in his eyes, but she wasn't really sure what was winning. He seemed even more lost and confused than she was, but he was still talking, speaking of temptations. Was she a temptation for him? He definitely was for her.


His touch against her cheek left a warm trail, making her tremble deep down inside. Not physically, but mentally she could feel herself starting to notice the cracks and holes in her perfect emotional walls.


She was still silent as he reminded her that it wasn't her job to keep her safe as he had been doing. He was right, of course. Had she been taking him for granted? Yes. His touch across her chin made her want to melt, and she couldn't even deny that he was right when he pointed out that she was letting him in.


It was true.


He was in deeper than anybody and she still craved more.


She reached up as he bent in close to her, cupping his cheeks and moving so that her lips were a bare centimeter from his. Pausing there for what felt like an eternity, she had to fight with herself. She wanted to kiss him more than she had wanted anything in a very long time.. but she couldn't. This was all wrong. He was supposed to be the happily married BAD agent with five little perfect children and she was supposed to be the criminal that he chased around and told stories about over a cigar with his friends.


Fuck, where did that come from?


She released him and stepped back slightly, dizzy from being so close to him as if he was a drug. Reaching behind her, she tugged on the ribbon of the corset until it loosened and the garment fell to the floor. The only thing keeping her from showing him anything not PG-friendly was her hair tumbling down over. She gazed up at him, unzipping her skirt and stepping out of it before kicking her flats aside.


Standing there in nothing but a pair of black boyshorts, she nodded slightly.


"Roger that, Peter," she said quietly, relief flooding her when her voice didn't shake. She smiled a little and took his hand, tugging him over to the bed before climbing in herself and waiting for him to join her.
 
He didn't feel so accomplished. He didn't feel accomplished about what he did at all, not that he meant to do it to feel accomplished. He wanted her to listen to him when he told her that she was going to stay in that bed. He ended up saying a lot more than he should have and wanted to catch the words in his hands as soon as they hit the air. He meant them, yes, of course. He didn't know if she knew that he meant them. She kept looking at him with those large, brown, doe eyes, her lips pulled into a tight line. A breath barely escaped her once he finished, not making it better that he bent down on her level. Again, an innocent gesture that he misunderstood.

Ace showed no sign of any contemplative thoughts which worried him. Did she believe him or would she forever think that he was a sack of lying shit? He never lied to her before, but Ace and Marce weren't technically on the friendliest of terms. Their relationship was more forced than willing. Marce needed her because she had information that was valuable to the lives of many. She needed him to make sure her head wasn't rolling around somewhere in an Italian river. It was a give and take relationship. They worked well together.

If that was the case, then Marce could have easily pulled his face away from hers when she grasped it in her palms. But he didn't, did he? No. Marce Jove, the bodyguard of Reflection, decided to freeze in place in either expectant fear or anticipation. He could feel the heat from his breath linger across her lips that couldn't have been more than millimeter away from his own. If she hadn't have paused, he may done something he wouldn't have regretted. If she...oh, if she hadn't have paused.

Marce said nothing when she finally pulled away from him, staring him directly in his eyes that had been lowered seconds before. Wave after wave of anticipation and frustration bobbed through his lower abdomen, bad enough to the point where he thought if he didn't take her lips for his own, he may have been sick. Momentary weakness, however. Marce recovered when he noticed that her face held no sarcastic twinkle in her eye. That meant Ace was back in Reflection mode.

He was wrong.

Marce found his eyes wandering from her long, slender fingers that were reaching behind her back. Next, it was the falling top. Marce made it his duty to keep his eyes on the corset and not pull them up to her exposed body. He'd show her that he wasn't just a man three seconds away from ravishing her with no remorse, but he was a respectful...someone, as well. Ace stereotyped him so many times before, he didn't see what was stopping her then. His blue eyes were plastered to the corset on the floor, with much strain, mind you.

All good things come to an end, they say. Marce thought that was bullshit. There he was, doing a good thing by keeping his eyes off of what may have been the most body-melting sight he had seen in his life...and how was he repaid? With the sight of her skirt falling, revealing nothing but her long, vanilla coated legs. The boy shorts did them no justice. Marce may or may not have whimpered in pleasure, but he wanted to believe he did. All he really remembered was Ace, for the 4th time that day, grabbing his hands and leading him to his bed. He didn't know where to put his eyes this time, so he stuck them to the fall wall behind him.

"Wait."he whispered. He didn't bother turning around as he finally rid himself of that Hot Topic trash that he wore over his chest. The AC hit the exposed skin of his chest quickly, but he neither budged nor blinked in response. His eyes went from his green sheets to her chesnut colored eyes when he unbuttoned his pants.

He paused. She didn't stop him. So, he continued.

The desire to comment about how she was the one who decided to put him in silk boxers out of all things came up to his throat, but he suppressed it. He didn't dare joke around with her while she was laying not even 5 feet away from him with only one article of clothing covering her angel kissed body. His pants fell to the floor, but Marce had respect enough to turn his back towards her, climbing into the bed backwards so she wouldn't see. He himself didn't want to see what state he was in either. His mind had wandered back to what he told her, even while the silence bubbled around the room.

His job wasn't to protect her yet there she was, unarmed and unclothed in his bed. So why was he doing it?

"Don't wake me up. Just a friendly warning."he whispered before the days events finally caught up with him, blissfully drowning him in a much needed sleep.
 
Wait.


What a simple word. If it was said in a calm tone, it would spark only curiosity - for example, if somebody behind you said it, you would stop walking and turn to see why they told you to wait. If it was shouted, it would cause alarm and an immediate freezing. Ace, however, had never been more struck by that single word than she was right now. It was a whisper, a single syllable, and it wasn't the vocal key to a vast treasure. Marce wasn't stopping time or accomplishing anything.


That was a lie.


He was accomplishing a lot. His movements as he tugged his shirt up over his head made her heart skip like some garage band drummer who couldn't remember the song. Her eyes traced over his skin rapidly in the moment that he was blinded, meeting his as soon as he was free and looking back up at her. She didn't look away from his eyes as he unbuttoned his pants, unable to stop thinking about the flash of red she could see in the unfocused part of her vision. He moved into bed with her and the red was hidden from her view by the blanket, but her mind was still on it for a moment before she started thinking of other things.


Such as what he had said to her. It was overwhelming and she knew that he had been right about a lot, yet she still felt herself questioning the honesty of his words. Deep down, she was fully aware that he hadn't lied. She knew that he had no reason to lie to her about any of that. He had nothing to gain and she hadn't forced him to say a single word of it. Moreover, she wanted to believe him.


She was reminded of the pain of this morning, when she had been so uncertain after he refused to promise to protect her. Ignored her, really. Did that mean anything? .. No. It didn't. She looked over at him now, realizing too late that he had spoken. His breathing had evened out and she knew he was asleep already. Not too surprising with the day that they had had. She smiled a little to herself and curled up with the blanket, falling asleep after a few more minutes of brooding.


Halfway through the night, a nightmare had her squirming. She moved her way over to Marce's side and slid an arm around his waist, nestling into him and laying her head on his chest. Her leg curled around and between his, then paused in the warmth of his own skin. She was asleep the entire time, but his presence soothed away her nightmare, allowing her peace as she snuggled.


It was going to be an interesting morning.
 
"You do what you all do to build this moat at your fucking perfect feet, don't you?"

"Oh, that's what you Merenzo's are doing? Protecting young girls?"

"We do whatever we want to them. Innocence is sin."

"SON OF A BITCH!"

"Defensive, are we?"

"God Dammit, Ace, what are you d--"

The dream, or nightmare rather, erupted in a loud gunshot that shook Marce all the way down to his very being. It traveled around his veins and through his arteries, leaving a sticky, contagious trail all the way to his brain. Asleep as he was, he could feel every little pang of rage and confusion hit him like he was standing there at that moment, staring into the distant look in Ace's eyes when she was stabbed. A boiling came first, and next came the fidget of anger and something...else.

"Don't do it, Ace. Stay with me."

"..ay with me..." It wasn't his own voice that woke him up, nor was it his phone ringing off the hook like it had been doing for quite sometime that night. Marce grungingly remembered tossing it away from his nightstand after putting it on vibrate, and, after hearing it clang against the closet, resumed his sleep. It definately wasn't a bird that woke him up either, though he was half expecting it to be. Marce peeled back the lids of his eyes, welcoming in the sunlight that spilled through the window behind him. A warm heat was radiating from his back, but, nightmare or not, he hadn't forgotten a second he and Ace had last night. He hadn't forgotten taking her chin in his hands in a genuine nature. Hadn't forgotten how difficult pulling away from her was. Hadn't forgotten everything he said. Hadn't even forgotten that she agreed to sleep in the bed.

What he did forget was that she was half-passed nude.

Marce's eyes shot open to their full length as he tried desperately to jerk himself away from the woman, but even the smallest budge sent him plastered in his spot. She was...touching him. Not in the sense his fantasies wished she was, but in reality, her arms had wrapped around his chest and a leg coiled around him. He sucked in a tiny gasp of air and thanked high heavens that he wasn't facing the other way.

The rise and fall of her chest indicated that she was still asleep and most likely had no notion of what she was doing. Marce suddenly wish he was awaken by the phone or the bird again. The next move he pulled was childish, but he was left with little to no choice. Marce moved his body as slow as a turtle stuck in quicksand, taking great care and caution not to wake the sleeping woman attached to him. The bed squeaked and Marce's eyes shut, pleading his body to keep still, having not moved 3 inches.

At this rate, it would be noon before he managed to leave that bed.

 
Oh god she was so warm. So deliciously warm.


Gradually Ace wound her way out of her dreams and into reality. She didn't bother to open her eyes at first, just taking in how completely comfortable she was. With no idea what woke her, she assumed that it was natural and that she was alone. She had almost forgotten about Marce getting in bed with her.


Almost.


For a minute.


When she remembered, she knew that she must be somewhat near him since she was so warm. Oh well. He should have known that they'd end up close to each other, sleeping in the same bed. Judging by the fact that he wasn't moving, she assumed he was still sleeping as well. She let her mind wander for a few more minutes, then realized that getting up before he did might be good. That way she could get her shower out of the way and get the papers sorted for him. Maybe make breakfast.


Ace: Being Suzy Homemaker. It was like a horrid parallel universe.


She slowly opened her eyes, realizing a few things all at once. One, his eyes were closed. Two, she only knew that because she was quite literally on him. Three, he was even more attractive up close. Four, she was regretting not kissing him last night when she had the chance. She bit her lower lip and ignored all that, carefully sitting up and letting the sheet fall away.


Which is when she realized the most important thing that she had forgotten, of course.


She was basically naked.


Startled by the realization, she squealed in surprise and flinched back away from Marce. The movement tipped her over the side of the bed and she tumbled on the floor, taking the tangled sheet with her. She landed on her back with a soft thud and blinked a few times, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, she just couldn't help it. She started giggling.


"Marce, help, I'm trapped and need saving!" she pleaded desperately, laughing.
 
Feeling her move so suddenly made him want to blurt out an apology for doing absolutely nothing. It was so all of a sudden and out of the blue that Marce nearly thought he was still asleep! She could not have possibly woken up and screamed at the top of her lungs that quickly! Besides, he hadn't touched her at all, so there was no need for her to be angry or--

A thud later, Marce realized that she had merely fell over the bed. His body shot up just as quickly as hers had, earning him a quick kick in the nose by Ace's knee as the last of her body fell from the bed. He spat out an obscenity and grabbed his nose through squinted eyes. He was positive that it was broken at first, but when he wiggled it to the best of his ability, nothing but a bruised pain met him in return. Still not a good thing but better than looking like one of the Three Stooges. God forbid Marce damage his face in any way.

Her cry for help, however, smothered all other thoughts that had previously taken refuge in his mind. He snapped from his position as if he was sitting on a thumb tack and practically vaulted over the bed to where she lay sprawled and tangled on the floor.

"Relax!" He ordered in a hard voice, finding what he assumed were her hands beneath the fortress of forest green that swallowed her whole and grabbing them. A strange noise was coming from her mouth that he didn't have the time to investigate. Hearing her shout his name in that manor...it did something to him. It pulled him back to all of the times he heard women yelling out to him desperately. helpless. Hurting. Dying.

"Relax! I've got you! I've got....got..."

Whatever he thought before was erased from his mind and replaced by the sight of her lying beneath him. Staring up at him with his hands still wrapped around her arms. While she was nearly bare.

"....You."he said in a hushed whisper. At that very second, just as he was about to explore her upper body with his eyes and more, a buzzing sound broke through the silence and across the room. Ignore it, Marce. He frowned her like a disappointed father would frown at his daughter for sneaking out late before releasing her. It was sharp and quick, too. Her statement about sleeping on the couch came back to him and pissed him off. Marce was no fool. He knew very well she wanted nothing to do with him and, if he could calm his 'canine' down for a second, he wouldn't push anything.

No matter how fucking gorgeous she looked in...nothing.

BZZZZZZZZZZ. He didn't need to reminded anymore, and, finally tearing his eyes away from her, he stood to his full height and looked away. Red silk boxers and all. He made his way over to the closet and picked up the phone to catch the last remnants of the gray flashing words that spelled 'Bob'. If that didn't soften things.

"Marce Jove."

"They have Alex."
 
Giggling helplessly, Ace was even more amused when Marce thought that she was serious. Had she really not woken him up until she called for him? She felt mildly guilty, but it wasn't enough to halt her laughter. Until he tugged her free of the sheet and she looked up to see his face mere inches from hers and his hands on her bare upper arms. She silenced and stared at him, reaching up to run her fingertips along his jaw for a scant moment before he let her go and pulled away.


God. Damn. It.


She sat up and peeked over the bed, watching him walk away in the same manner that a scolded child might watch a parent leaving so that they knew when the rule-breaking could commence. Although, her eyes were on his backside a lot more than a child would be staring at a parent. Red silk definitely looked nice on him, she thought with a secret, triumphant smile.


She scrambled to her feet and looked around as he picked up his phone, picking up one of her own shirts and tugging it on as he answered. At least now she wasn't any more indecent than when he saw her yesterday morning.


Was that seriously only a day ago?


She rubbed her hands over her face and tugged her hair up into a messy bun with her hands, glancing over at Marce. His stance was tense and he seemed.. off. Not entirely different though. She recognized it, from when he first started demanding information from her and telling her what a criminal she was. He was in business mode.


Something was wrong.


"Marce..?"
 
The words had taken the wind out of him. Marce remembered staring into nothing in nothing but his silken boxers and tousled black hair, holding the receiver so hard to his ear, it may have went straight in if he pushed hard enough. He was already turning towards Ace when she called out his name. Bob remained on the other end of the phone waiting for Marce to regain the reality he had lost at the words.

They have Alex.

"When?" he demanded. "What happened?"

"We only know she was on her way back from her dog's grooming service with that Tiffany friend of hers. She was supposed to pick up something from the office--"

"Her keys." Marce cut in which Bob dutifully ignored.

"--and never made it here. The Tiffany chick wasn't with her, but we called her and she told us Alex dropped her off at her home. No fucking alarms went off until one of our own came in with a finger from the lot." Marce's face twisted in confusion, still looking directly at Ace. She would want to know what was happening, so he snapped it on speakerphone. She'd be able to pick up what was going on quickly.

"Bob don't use that federal code shit on me. What the hell is a finger?"

"Just what I said it was. A finger." The blood drained from his face and landed on his feet, plastering him in place.

"How long ago was this?" Fear made his voice hard.

"10 minutes at the most. I was on my way out of this fucking hell hole when I got the news, and the..." The rest of the sentence need not be repeated. This can't have been happening to him! Not when things were making so much sense in his life! He frowned at the statement. His life? Since when was this about him and his personal affairs? He was supposed to be trying to find those girls that the Merenzo's had taken. Some even up to three years ago without one sight of their families! Yet, there he stood, looking at Ace who had managed to toss something over herself, trying to be more presentable and less tempting. It didn't work, but Marce's mind was too far gone to want to dwell deeper into that.

"They snagged her in our lot? Of the Bureau?" Bob didn't sound giddy to reiterate that the building wasn't as secured as it was supposed to be. Not if one of those Italian bastards took one of the Bureau's own.

"Right under our fucking noses."

"Does Bryson know?" The lack of response was his answer. Of course not. If he did, Italy would have been somewhere underwater by then. "Give me 30."he said before hearing the click on the opposite end. The second the call ended, Marce looked at Ace.

"You're staying here."
 
Wisely keeping her silence for once as Marce snapped into the phone, Ace listened closely.


At first he wanted to know what happened, but then he mentioned keys. The keys they dropped off at the office. She tilted her head a fraction and met Marce's gaze, confusion in her eyes that matched his own. He was apparently talking to Bob. Lucky him. A finger? From his expression, she figured it wasn't a code. Not too surprising if what she was gathering was the real truth.


Cock sucking buttmongers..


Not bothering to listen any longer, she strolled out of the bedroom and to the living room. The device she had showed him before with the red flags was flicked on and set on the counter and she pulled out a pile of papers, spreading them rapidly beside it before she went back to the bedroom.


He was saying to give him a half hour. She leaned against the doorway and frowned as he looked at her and said she was staying there.


Like hell, Marce.


"If you're talking about that woman who was at the hospital, and the Merenzo bastards have taken her, then I know where she is," she said quietly, absolutely refusing to think for a moment that she'd be left here by herself.


Was letting Marce face the Merenzos himself really that bad?


Yes.
 
"I bet you do."he said before wheeling around her and out of the door, grabbing a pair of shorts and a strewn blue shirt on the way. Whether she was following him or not, he was still speaking to her.

"I have those things you gave me and I'll find out where she is. The Bureau first. I need to ask the person that found...that found out she was missing exactly what they saw. From there, I'll contact Bryson and we'll be taking the first flight to wherever she is."he commented, putting one hairy leg through his shorts after another, leaning on the bar in the kitchen for support. A flicker of red from the monitor caught his eye and he moved over to it. The shirt snugged tightly on his chest once he snatched the items and shoved them under his arm

"And you? You'll be staying right here where I know you're not getting into trouble. Don't make me get a house arrest bracelet." His voice was hard and serious with deep undertones. He wasn't joking with her for a moment at all. Alex was gone and those Merenzo's had her. If America found out that one of the BAD had slipped and got themselves taken, the President would pounce on Congress to declare war on Italy. Exaggeration or not, a public riling was the last thing they all needed. It had to be nipped in the bud quickly and effectively. Marce was the man for the job, and, being completely honest, if Ace followed him, she'd be nothing but a distraction.

"Let BAD do BAD." BAD. Where Alex had made her home so many years ago. Shaking with fury, Marce was trying not to think about what could be happening to her, trying to concentrate on finding her. It did worry him that she let her guard down. Alex was a tough one, and to be taken at her own job? There was something very wrong. He threw a stool out of his way and ran for the keys strewn across the kitchen floor.

"My number is in the second drawer in my room. Don't touch anything and keep your head clear."he said, not even bothering to look behind him as he swung the door open.
 
"The things I gave you were for the girls! The children! They aren't in the same places that they took.. take the adults! What I gave you won't be any use to you, Marce, unless you'd rather go save a child and let your friend die," Ace tried to explain, watching him tug clothes on and pick up the things she had put on the counter.


"As if I couldn't deactivate a house arrest bracelet without you knowing I did it," she muttered, crossing her arms and glaring at him.


She gave him her best scowl as he scrambled for his keys and told her where to find his number. Yeah, because that was going to be reallyfuckinghelpful. He'd probably end up calling here instead when he realized that he didn't have the faintest idea where he was going. She hadn't decided if she'd pick up the phone yet or not.


Probably not, since the twit wasn't paying attention.


"Marce!" she demanded, but he had already walked out the door.


Don't touch anything..


"Yeah right," she muttered, going into his bedroom and taking his number out, Not even glancing at it, she stuffed it into the back pocket of her.. Wait, she wasn't wearing shorts. Rolling her eyes, she tugged some on and took care of the phone number. She tugged her hoodie on over her shirt and grabbed her bag, taking it with her out to the living room and pulling out a small netbook.


Oh, how she missed her wall of monitors..
 
The Bureau wasn't far away, but by the time Marce arrived, the areas was swarming with police. There was no sign of Alex and no one had seen anything. Marce made a disgusted frown at the police filing around where they normally didn't belong. They could take their badges and tight pants back to their jurisdiction. They weren't there to help find Alex. They were only there to give the reporters filing around Bob and other BAD ops something to stress about. He didn't bother to turn the car off when he trotted up the steps to the entrance two at a time. Only one cop managed to stop him before recognizing that he was Marce Jove and letting him go with a whispered apology. That was a record.

"I should have kept that bastard Palon alive. I should have made him tell me where the rest of them were. You know I should h--"

"There isn't any evidence that the Merenzo's have her." Bob interrupted without even bothering to look Marce directly in the eye. Smart move.

"Screw evidence. You just told me 'they' had her."

"Because that's the only way I believe Faulkner could be side blinded, for fuck's sake." He managed to scare away another one of the reporters away with a piercing glare. Marce looked around at the crowd and the other police. Other agents were on their way. Only more questions that won't have a golden answer.

"We need to get to the lot. Maybe she left something behind. A note, an address, anything."he noted knowing that Alex left nothing but a pool of blood from her hand. Bob didn't question Marce and the two of them broke away from the sea of people to the lot on the back end of the building. Marce looked down at the clock on his phone. Alex had been gone for an hour and Ace had spent a half hour in his house. Fear for the two of them bubbled in his chest. Alex in the hold of those Merenzo's and Ace without him to protect her.

Get over it, Jove. She's not a fucking baby. The two of them made it to the lot and pulled out the tiny flashlights attached to their belt loops. Bob was the first to turn his on. The first thing the light hit was a man standing erect, both hands at his sides, more statue like than human. As his friend, Marce had to hold the man's red-rimmed eyes in a solid contact. Bob's words must have left him too for no one said anything, waiting for Bryson to speak up first.

When he did croak out something, Marce almost wished he hadn't.

"I left her. I never should have left her." How strangely familiar the feeling was to Marce.

How strangely familiar.
 
Apparently being thrown down stairs, shot at, submerged, thrown around, and half crushed is bad for computers.


Who knew?


It wouldn't start. Ace hurled it across the room and watched the top crack against the wall. The wall was fine, so if Marce complained she'd just beat him with the useless hardware. She stood and started pacing, thinking hard.


Why was she still standing here?


She knew where that woman was, and she knew perfectly well what was going to happen to her if Marce didn't find her. Since he had left before she could even give him directions, she was also aware that he would probably have to full-on search. There wasn't time for that kind of cop crap. The Merenzos didn't share the same interest in grown women as they did in female children. As there had been no ransom note - that Marce mentioned, anyway - then there was only one reason the woman had been taken. Revenge. A message. A warning. She was going to die and her body would be found, likely, on BAD's front steps in a few days.


Shaking her head, Ace went into Marce's room and opened his closet. Taking one of his belts, she looped it on and secured it tightly so that it would hold a gun on either side snugly. Spare clips went in her hoodie pockets, the third gun tucked in her bra.

The things she did for people..


She flipped over one of the papers that Marce had left and scrawled out an address on it, in case he came home. Leaving it there on the counter, she left the building, locking the door behind her.
 
Marce knew exactly what he was doing. He was a Bureau of American Defense op and would have made a swell cop if the road to his career was paved differently. He could find a hay and a needlestack if he had to. He leaned over the hood of his car once he, Bob, and a dazed Bryson made it out of the throng of people cluttered around the entrance. In front of him was a map of the area, a route trailing from Alex's drive from the pet store, Tiffany's house, and finally to the lot. The three of them tried to see if there were any suspicious back routes or institutions that may have been placed board line on the route. So far, no dice. The police and FBI agents were gathered around the entrance. Most of the reporters had gone home for their lunch, so the roads were nearly empty.

"This will take days," an officer complained in a whisper to his partner. He happened to look across the car at Bryson and immediately regretted the comment.

"What about her car?" a detective standing next to Bob asked. "If it was here the whole time, then what did she drive?"

"Mine." Bryson spoke up in the same cracked tone. It was a wonder anyone heard a word he said.

"You BAD sure like to switch around cars, don't you?"another officer asked. This time, it was Bob's glare that made him piss his pants. Marce looked over the route again, but his mind wasn't all there. It was on Ace and what she may have been doing. Probably throwing toilet paper around his dining room as a surprise present when he returned to his house. He did note the angry frown when he told her to stay. A sinking feeling drained over his spine when he remembered something. This wasn't just a woman annoyed at having an order given to her. This was Reflection, the woman who knew everything about everyone and their grandmothers. The curses stayed inside his head.

"She could have parked the car inside one of these buildings," a young detective piped up. "The ones to the east are boarded up, but theirs gap enough to squeeze a car through. Trust me, I got a lot of smuggling stops from this place." Marce listened to everyone discuss where Bryson's car may have been hidden. He paid them no mind, looking at the map and noticing the bold black ink of Alex's last trail. Strange. She had to back track to take Tiffany home when the office was first. She literately had to pass the Bureau to get to Tiffany's. Why didn't she just go to the office and get her car first? Marce shook his head, feeling as though he was grasping at straws, but desperate to have an answer.

"Bryson. Where is your house? Isn't it on this strip?"Marce asked, pointing a finger to Alex's route that was double bold to show her back track. He had to ask the question again for Bryson to shake out of his post-trauma and look at the map.

"Yeah. Right behind the silver gate of wire fence on 70th street. Right here."he said, pointing his finger a couple of centimeters away from Marce's.

"Were you home an hour and a half ago?"

"No. I stayed at a friend's after I dropped her off at his place and let her take the keys." Marce's breathing quickened before he darted his eyes at Bryson, ignoring the mumbling of one of the cops. Let Bob handle them.

"Has she visited you before?" Bryson's face turned in annoyance and impatience.

"Are you interrogating me?"

"Has she visited you before?" Marce asked again in the same tone and volume. Bob caught wind of the conversation and looked Bryson up and down, eyes lingering on the boy's somber face longer than anything. It was clear on his face that Alex Faulkner wasn't just a partner to that boy.

"No. Never." Marce rolled up the map and hopped inside his car, not bothering to explain anything. Bob made sure every cop in the vicinity was on alert, but following Marce Jove to Bryson's house was to be their main priority. It was the only lead he had.
 
Ace stuck to the sidewalk for the first block, then ducked out of sight into an alleyway when she saw a cop car go by toward Marce's office. How many were there? The whole city? Leaving things unguarded.. Other things would be sliding.. She scowled and continued on her path, scrambling up a fire escape to the roof of a set of apartment buildings. Walking along determinedly, she followed the slope of one roof to the next, crossing three blocks in under five minutes.


Time mattered now. She might already be dead.


"Stop thinking like that. Did hanging around a BAD op for too long make you soft? No. Relax. It's not like you haven't had to break out before," she muttered to herself, swinging down a fire escape and landing almost silently. A shame that she hated the government. She might have been a rather good cop - or at the very least, an investigator.


You want dirt on a peasant in Russia? Sure thing, give her an hour.


She smirked and paused at the end of the alley, taking a few deep breaths. How long had it been? Too long. Her eyes flicked across the street. Let's see.. those two vehicles were theirs. One manned, the other not. Two by the door and there would be another four inside. Factoring in a possible visitor left her with a rough ten bodies within two minutes of going in the front door. After that it was a matter of finding the woman, grabbing her, and leaving.


Simple.
 
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