Zoe Stone

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+ he unpauses the screen and watches with dark glee as he witnesses himself plunge the knife deep into Connor’s heart.

“Complete control.”

TBC

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+ “Sure,” Moretti rolls his eyes, bracing for what he is certain will be a lecture.

“I’m worried about ya, kid. This Mockingbird thing… it’s… becoming an obsession.”

Moretti scoffs, “Trust me, Ezio. I’m in complete control…”

Returning his attention to the TV, +

+ Pausing the image of himself on the TV screen, Moretti turns to his consigliere, “What do you want?”

Unbuttoning his jacket, the older man takes a seat before responding to his Don’s question with another, “Can I speak freely? Uncle to nephew?” +

+ victim’s throat.

+ “Answer me, you piece of shit.”

“…alive…lakehouse… Jane Doe…hospital…”

“Dommy?” Ezio’s voice interrupts Moretti’s thoughts as he observes his recorded torture of Connor, “How many more times you gonna watch this?”

“As many as it takes.”

“For what?” +

+ “What about her?!” hearing him speak her name, he stops the drill, not wanting to miss a thing.

“Her…sister…”

“Zoe’s sister? Her /dead/ sister?”

Connor emits a cough, his eyes glazing. The delay in a response to his question has Moretti then press the blade of the knife hard against his +

+ torture has now rendered Connor barely able to speak.

“So, what /do/ you know?!” leaning in close he bellows, holding the drill in front of his captive’s face and activating it, the menacing and terrifying high pitched whirr echoes in the darkened room.

“Zoe…” +

+ “Let’s start again…” Moretti addresses the bound and bloody Agent Connor, a blade in his left hand and a power drill in his right, that he had already used to inflict several devastating and agonising wounds into the man’s flesh, “/Where/ is Thawn?”

“I…I don’t…know…” his brutal and prolonged +

+ sure if he’s trying to convince the other man or himself.

“Yeah. Doesn’t stop me worryin about her though.”

“So, call her. Go see her. I’m sure there’s nothin too serious goin on for us to worry about…” +

+ killin Thawn when she had the chance.”

Corvax looks up, the truth of Jordan’s words feeling so blindingly obvious. His lips twist, wanting to argue but instead all he does is nod.

“She just needs to work through it all. In her own way. But…she will,” Jordan now isn’t +

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+ reading it.

“No, man,” Jordan sighs with a shake of his head, “If I know Zoe, and I /do/, she’s already figured out a way to blame herself.”

“For trusting me not to screw up.”

“First of all, you didn’t screw up. And second, just /no/. She’ll be blaming herself for not +

+ “She /will/ come back, you know?” Jordan’s expression turns earnest, eyes widening, “This whole Trigger thing, Thawn gettin away, then talkin to Lily… it messed her up. But she’ll come back.”

“She blames me,” Corvax keeps his eyes downwards on the file, despite not even +

+ “Hey, we gotta chase whatever we can. Thawn is still out there, somewhere. We got two missing agents, presumed dead. One being our former Director…”

“Yeah,” another deep sigh as he tries to force his attention to the documents before him, “I know.” +

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+ “Today’s lead.”

Sighing as he takes the file, Corvax shakes his head, “Another one?”

Ever since Thawn had vanished, leads had been pouring in. Unfortunately, excitement had now given way to tedium as they had all been nothing but dead ends. +

+ men had somehow managed to maintain a level of civility to remain focused on their work. But the lingering tension had remained.

“I didn’t say /good/ mornin, but whatever…” reaching for a file on his desk, he stands up, approaching the other man and offering it to him, +

+ Trigger had blown. And a mood that hadn’t been helped by the awkwardness of having to work with Zoe’s ex-boyfriend every day. Quitting the Department had crossed his mind more than once, but simply wasn’t an option if he wanted to maintain joint custody of John. The two +

+ “Mornin, Flynn!” Jordan greets Corvax with a friendly grin as he enters his office.

“What’s good about it?” grumpily sinking into the nearest chair, Corvax is clearly in a foul mood. A mood that had been largely persistent for the past couple of months, ever since the +

+ Confident her jet lag has been dealt with and in no mood for more dreams that will slay her with terminable remorse; she nods decisively. It was time to see an old friend. Time to get some answers. And time to pull herself out of her darkness. Before it kills her… +

+ Lhasa, Tibet +

+ her lowest ever point and into the bed of a vicious, dangerous criminal, that’s what.

Rising, she heads toward the window, shaking her head. before opening the curtains. The sight of the evening sun setting over the unfamiliar city before her brings her immediate comfort. +

+ throat as he near echoes the words from her dream, “Good night, Moretti.”

Ending the call, she switches her phone off and drops it on the bed beside her, squeezing her eyes closed and covering her face with her hands. What had she done? Allowed her darkness to take her to +

+ He chuckles, not surprised by her answer, “How bout you just come over then? We can get high. Have some fun. Help each other sleep…”

“No. Last time was the last time.”

“Like the time before that, you mean? Oh, and the time before that?”

Her breath catches in her +

+ smaller than intended as she extends her casual greeting.

“I wake you?”

“No.”

“Well, I know why I’m…up,” he reaches down, rubbing at the nagging bulge between his thighs, “So, what’s got you awake at 4am?”

“Bad dream.”

“Aww poor baby. Wanna tell me about it?”

“No.” +

+ relief, she closes her eyes, forcing her body and mind to relax and seek recovery from her dream.

Her cell phone ringing on the nightstand causing a look of confusion, then anxiety when she sees who’s calling. Moretti. It was like he /knew/.

“Hey…” her voice is +

+ his hard, throbbing length deep inside her, prompting her to immediately moan with ecstasy into his mouth.

Waking up with a gasp and immediate sense of dread, Zoe’s eyes flash around the room as her hand searches the bed beside her. She’s alone. Exhaling a heavy sigh of +

+ “I’m gonna make this one count…”

Gripping her wrists, he playfully pins them above her head, holding them there with one hand while his other reaches downwards. With another grin, he slams his lips against hers, kissing her with furious depth and hunger as he drives +

+ hating how equally right… and /wrong/ this feels. Soon she’s struggling and pulling away, “No. This time I mean it. This is the last time.”

“Well, in that case,” undeterred, he shifts his body, climbing on top of her and positioning himself between her legs, +

+ which she cannot resist reciprocating. Pulling back, she gently caresses his face, smiling.

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Mmm, you did. But we both know you just can’t resist me, little birdie.”

He takes hold of her face and kisses her again, she feels herself melting into him, +