Ruptured Mind 3.2 (Ever-changing title)

Tristen gripped the arms of his chair, thinking of the promises he made in order to find Ashley. Lais’ promise was his only motivation to continue living, to continue working for them. Without it, he would watch the company burn just as he would watch the Capitol burn.

“Yes, we do.” He hesitated before continuing. “Is there anything you’ve uncovered about what happened to her?”

Lais looked down at the desk for a moment, spinning the pen on the desk. “We haven—” He stopped, recovered his words, then continued. “We’re doing all we can, Tristen. Many people abducted don’t survive, especially overseas. I have three men in the field searching for her.”

“I know she’s alive,” Tristen said.

“How?”

“Some things you feel, Lais.” Tristen sank lower in his chair, folding his arms and trying to find a comfortable position. “I just know.”

Lais said nothing for the longest time, pursing his lips and staring ahead. It was the thousand mile stare, one Tristen saw in the mirror every morning. A few minutes felt like letting out the longest breath in the world, seeing things in the mirror impossible to comprehend in the visual sense.

“If she’s alive, we’ll find her,” Lais said. “I need to know that if we discover her dead, you’ll continue with our work.”

Tristen nodded, although the words didn’t register for a few moments. “I understand. I’ll finish, but only with proof of her death in front of me.”

“Of course,” Lais assured him.

All of a sudden, the seat felt like a place for his body and mind to rot, this office building closing in him like a tomb, and he had to get out into the open air. Too much time had been spent with this man—someone who spent his life destroying others.

He lurched to a stop in the middle of standing, and realized he did the same thing as Lais. He destroyed others—for her. And there were no number of lives in his mind that compared to hers. A fleeting thought entered his mind, tempting him to ask Lais what his motivation was to destroy these buildings, but then decided against it. The answer would only settle in his stomach like a stone to drag him down even further.

“Before you leave!—one thing.” Lais shoved his chair back and hurried around the desk, leading Tristen back to his seat. “Just a moment longer, so I can introduce you to your new partner.”

Tristen stiffened. “But, Zah? We’ve been working together for months, completed each mission successfully. Why?”

Lais leaned against the front of the desk, looking down in an almost sympathetic smile. “Your duties have changed. Zah will now be working alone, and will only need to enter the Library a few more times. You need someone who can keep up with you, and who’s been trained for this.”

Tristen rubbed his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “Alright, call him in.”

Lais opened the office door and leaned out into the hall. “You can come in now, Emilie.”

“Wait—what?” Tristen snapped upright, spinning around to face the door and the newcomer walking in. “You’re having me work with a woman?”

The woman was small—shorter than Lais, even. She gave Tristen a long, hard look, almost like she was inspecting him. He felt self-conscious about his unbuttoned shirt, his flip-flips, when in the same room as this woman. Emilie belonged in the light knee-length dress, revealing just the right amount leg without making her lose her professional air, her sharp but gentle features frozen in an amused, but curious expression, the binder in her hands held firm against her chest. A chain hung around her neck, suspending a single pearl that swung like a pendulum with her every move.

“Lais, this—but… why?” Tristen ignored Emile and turned to Lais. “She’s not what I need! We both know the kind of person I work with—a fighter, someone I can relate to and work with. This woman is decoration only.”

“Excuse me, I—”

“True, Emilie has no martial arts skill and has never strangled anyone,” Lais patted Emilie on the shoulder to quiet and calm her. “But she’s exactly what you need. She can plan, subdue, entrance, and help you work around any obstacle. You’ve had enough partners who knew how to blow things up, Tristen.”

“That’s what we do, Lais,” Tristen said. “We blow stuff up.”

Lais smiled, but Tristen saw the thin line of impatience behind it. “Not anymore… son, and you know that. If you let her, Emilie will help you far more than Zah, and that’s because she doesn’t blow stuff up.”

Tristen looked at Emilie and saw hints of Ashley in the few freckles scattered across her nose, the wavy blonde hair that had been the reason for such a plethora of jokes, and the twin dimples across her cheeks when she smiled—only at Lais, not to Tristen.

His shoulders slumped forward. “Alright, fine. I’ll work with her, Lais.” He licked his lips, put a hand over his face to hide the mixed emotions coursing through him. “I just—I need some time to think things over, adjust to this new plan.”

“You should head home, son. You’ve done enough for today.” Lais nodded, nudging Tristen towards the door. Emilie lifted an eyebrow at Tristen, but moved away from the half open door. “Call Emilie in the morning. You begin straight away.”

“Will do, Lais.” Tristen took the card Lais handed to him, slipping it into his pocket without reading it over, knowing what it’d be—her contact information. Without another look behind him at either Lais or Emilie, he stepped out and breathed into the free. Behind him was an office of scheming and condemnation for those considered their enemies. In front of him was the beautiful city of Washington D.C., carved out before him in a staggered canvas of high-rise buildings towering above millions of people—some with evil intentions, no doubt, but many good people living their lives. He shook his head, turning from the window and nodding to the receptionist as he left. The reasons for living of the people below him was as important to him as the man in the office behind him. He only needed to remember his duty to complete his mission, his duty to find his Ashley, and all needed to fade behind him.