Broken Memories

His eyes were filled with a cold heat, like newly spilled blood on an icy marble floor. It stung her; the way he looked at her with those eyes, without really seeing her. She couldn't stand it. It was piercing, knowing, haunting. His face gave no expression, but she supposed he didn't have to give away his emotions. The hatred radiating from his body wasn't easily missed. Tension and anger vibrated off of him, and if it were tangible it would be making the air ripple. Like disturbed water. It was frightening. She steadied herself, bracing herself against the marble wall, peeling her eyes from his.

She heard the shift of his clothes rustling, and fear spiked through her chest. She turned and ran down the hall, her bare feet not making a sound on the hard, cold, marble floor; the only sound now was the rapid beating of her heart.

He was going to find her. She should have just left when she witnessed his cruelty, but she didn't; she had stayed to watch him. His gaze had captured her, pulled her in. She couldn't look away, and now he was going to find her.

"I hear you, little mouse."

His voice, cold and cruel, echoed behind her. His footfalls were slow, calculated. He was not chasing her, and soon she found out why. She had taken a wrong turn, she was trapped. Yanking a piece of paper and pen from her shoulder bag, the young woman quickly scribbled a note addressed to an old friend. "Go, Prowl." She hissed to the hawk who always stayed by her side. "Take it to Ryliee. She'll know what to do."

The fear in her heart was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. There she was, on her knees before the most fearsome person she'd face in her entire life. Eyes wide, body frozen in terror, she flinched as he took a step closer, the darkness covering more than half his face making his presence more imposing, more intimidating. Moisture brimmed her eyes and she turned her face away and down, body trembling; she knew her fate was sealed.

She felt his hand come closer, no doubt about to end her...

He grasped her chin and turned her head to face him, one crystalline tear rolling slowly down her cheek, glittering mockingly in the dim light. His lips twitched as he bit back a smirk, sending another shocking slice of fear straight through her. Heart pounding, the poor young woman attempted to breathe, but found it nearly impossible.

"I am not going to kill you." His deep voice filled her head, his words shocking her. "I do not murder the weak, the defenseless."

An insult that would have normally started a fire under her, only sent chills down her spine. He really was out of her league.

"But," He paused, watching the struggle in her eyes, "I will not let you go either."

Her heart sank, another tear slipping down her face; choking back a sob of terror. If he wasn't going to kill her... And he wasn't going to let her go... What exactly was he going to do with her?

***

Tap. Tap tap. Tap. Tap tap tap.

'What... the fuck... is that noise...?' A groggy Ryliee rolled over in her bed, glancing at the window, where an annoying tapping sound drew her from her sleep. Squinting in the darkness, she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, taking great care not to wake up the man sleeping beside her. Shimmying out of the bed, she slumped over to the window, her eyes narrowed in annoyance, she unlatched the window and pushed it up. A hawk sat on the windowsill, a note wrapped around its leg; as soon as the window was open enough it flew inside and perched on the female Metas shoulder.

Not recognizing the animal, she chanced a glance at her partner, then quietly shut the window and exited the room. Once in the living room, she shrugged the bird off of her and flipped on the light, hissing as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. Settling herself on the couch, a frown on her face, she motioned towards the bird and in landed on her knee, holding its foot out expectantly.

"Fine, fine," Ryliee grumbled, pulling the letter off, and unfolding the crumpled piece of paper. Her eyes scanned the words scrawled there in a messy script and her eyes widened. The name at the end of the letter had startled her, she never thought she'd see that name again. Standing abruptly, she darted down the hallway to her makeshift lab and flipped the light on, moving around the room to turn her machines on.

As the lab hummed to life, she read the letter over and over again, trying to discern what was written there, and why it had been sent to her. Ryliee was currently off duty. A year after her accident, and coincidentally the start of her first real relationship with her work partner, Ezra, she had taken some time off of work. She claimed it was to help her leg heal, but she just wanted to cozy up with her love, and get away from the stress of working for the D.I.S., but it looked like she had to go back on duty. Not officially, of course, but off the books.

Turning to her lab equipment, she pulled on her lap coat and glasses and began to work. She had to decipher the letter, and determine where exactly it had come from. Ryliee knew who it had come from, and she knew beyond a doubt she had to help the woman who wrote it. Why? Because the woman asking for her help was the only human on earth that Ryliee cared about. Her name was Jezebelle, and she was the Metas best and only friend. Aside from her partner, of course. The only hard part about deciding to take on this task was convincing Ezra to come with her. Whether or not he decided to, however, was not going to stop her from going. Jezebelle needed Ryliee, and she was not going to let her down.

Ezra stretched his arms over his head and yawned deeply, rolling over slightly to rest his gaze upon the woman he shared his bed and his life with. Much to his surprise, she was not there. Immediately his eyes widened, for it was not like her not to sleep in, usually longer than he did. Ezra sat upright, scanning the room but seeing nothing else out of the ordinary.

A feeling of relief washed over him, however, when he heard the sounds of tinkering from her lab at the end of the hallway. Once she was put on leave, Ezra had made sure that she had her equipment brought over so she could continue her passion, and to make sure that no fool tried to use them without her permission. One time it happened. One, and that was more than enough.

Rubbing his face, Ezra got out of bed and threw on a pair of boxer shorts before exiting his bedroom and heading toward the kitchen. Ryliee had occasionally forgotten to eat when she was buried in her lab, so Ezra just got into the habit of preparing some sort of sustenance and just taking it to her. That morning, breakfast was simple: coffee, toast with cinnamon, butter, and sugar, and a bowl of fruit.

When it was ready, Ezra padded quietly down the hallway and entered her lab, making sure to stay in the non-sterile area.

"Ryliee, it's just after eight in the morning. What are you doing?" Having yet to full awaken, Ezra's tone was dry and boring. Sarcasm didn't usually start until thirty minutes after he woke up.

It took a full minute for Ryliee to pull herself away from her lab equipment, and turn to face ezra, who had entered the room. It was really them smell of coffee and food, more than his voice that drew her away.

"It's that late, already?" She approached him, pulling gloves from her fingers, holding her arm out. The hawk that had woken her up that morning flew from its perch on one of the shelves and landed on her forearm. "This is Prowl." She introduced the bird and plucked a piece of toast off the plate and held it up for the bird to chew on. "Prowl, this is Ezra. Prowl belongs to an old friend of mine, and she sent him to me along with this." Ryliee pulled the folded note from her pocket and held it out for her better half to take and read.

The letter was scrawled messing, almost frantically, and only said a few words. 'He found me. He's been killing the others. Please, Ry, come.' It was signed Jez.

Ryliee grabbed her coffee and shrugged the large bird up to her shoulder so she could sit and eat. "I've figured out where she is, almost. And if someone hurts her I am going to skewer them and put their head on a pike." Taking a long swallow of coffee, she sighed deeply in content, her gaze tired.

"Jez is in Dublin."

Ezra raised an eyebrow as he read the note, sighing softly once he finished. Her friend had a bully problem in the very worst kind of way, and Ezra hated bullies. With a passion. He placed the letter on the counter, then brought a piece of toast to his mouth and took a bite.

"Dublin, eh? I haven't been to Ireland in a while. I'll book the flight. What do you know about this friend? Who are the others? Who is 'he'?" Ezra's questions may have seemed a little premature, or invasive, but he liked having as much information on a situation as possible. Diving in was something he was good at, but it didn't usually work out for everyone else.

"I don't know who he is, or who the others are. If I had to guess, I would say they're Metas. Jezebelle is a widely known crime journalist who exposes the ones who do harm to our kind." Ryliee paused here, her coffee cup hovering in the air, barely reaching her lips, her eyes narrowed. "She is also the only human on the planet that I don't want to skin alive."

Prowl bounced forward and began to tear at her other piece of toast as she sipped her hot beverage. "There are a lot of things I could tell you about that woman, but she can't wait. I'll tell you on the flight over, but I won't spare a second for anyone who lays a finger on her. That's why I'm in here. That letter had more than just words."

****

Pale finger delicately skimmed over a cold surface. The rough texture cut into fingers calloused from years of hard work. The dark pressed in, almost suffocatingly so. The shackles that hung heavily on her wrists told her she was exactly where she'd been in her nightmares; locked away from everything, from everyone. A sigh escaped her lips and she barely tugged on the chains. They clattered in the darkness, the sound echoing loudly. How long had it been? Days or weeks? Months or years? The small concrete room had no windows, or lights, no way to indicate time. Who knew how much time had passed.

This was of her own doing, she knew that now. She should have listened. Hindsight really was a bitch.

Footsteps, heavy, echoed down the hallway right outside her prison door. They were getting louder. 'Ryliee... please come...'

Hearing the sound of Ryliee's determination through her voice told him all he needed to know at that time. This was no normal human she spoke of, but someone she considered to be very important. If the captive was, truly, the only human that she respected and cared about, Ezra knew that she would stop at nothing to see her recovered safely. That worked out well, for two of the most destructive Metas on the planet at that time.

Ezra crossed the room to a computer desk that he had set up so they could work together when they needed to. Otherwise, when Ryliee needed space, he would pull up his laptop and work in a nearby room, though she didn't seem to mind him being inside her space since they had gotten together. Their romance was a whirlwind in the beginning, and even though they had found a rhythm together, Ezra did not find himself feeling either smothered or alone.

Within a few minutes, their flights were booked. Ezra then set to the task of preparing for their trip. He packed one bag for each of their personal items, then another that had their essentials, including their passports, cash currency, and other vital items that weren't typically allowed on-board airplanes. While Ryliee had been on administrative leave while she recovered, Ezra at her side the whole time, he never lost his clearance. He had a badge that was better than the most expensive diamonds in the world.

"Alright. Flights are booked and bags are packed. We're ready when you are."

"Lets go then."

Ryliee finished her coffee and stood up, the scowl on her face making her displeasure in the situation apparent. What sort of person was going to take advantage of a person trying to help others? What sort of sick fuck were they dealing with? Dropping her cup into the sink, the Meta stood there for a moment, and it may have been her exhaustion, but a sudden wave of rage shot through her. Without thinking she slammed her fist into the cupboard in front of her, splintering the wood. Her hand was not hurt, however, as her ability always manifested itself so she did not get hurt. In that moment, it pissed her off.

With a growl, she snatched their travel bag from the floor and headed for the door. She did not attempt to drive, nor did she indicate that she wanted to. If she had gotten behind the wheel, the world would have not been a safe place.

The hawk, Prowl, flew into the room and perched on her shoulder, and pushed it's head against her face as if to reassure her. While it seemed like a nice gesture, it only made her feel guilty. Who knew how long that man, whomever he was, had Jezebelle. What if they didn't get there on time?

"God have Mercy on his soul." She hissed under her breath, heading out the door.

"There is no mercy for people like him," Ezra said, having caught the mumble when he rounded the corner. "But if you feel like praying for him, pray that he meets his end quickly, because if I have anything to say about it, it will be slow." In Ezra's hands were their bags, packed with careful attention to detail and ready to go.

As they neared the door to their shared home, Ezra paused as both their dogs were staring up at them, blocking the door as if to demand that they be brought along. Ezra, however, had already made arrangements for them to be cared for while he was gone. An old friend from his days at the Academy.

"No, you're not coming, and that is final. Move." His authority over the animals was strong, as was their bond as a family. There was only one other whom they would listen to. "Ichigo will be here soon." Zoo-linguist Ichigo had a power that was not as useful in combat, but it did allow her to dog-sit whenever Ezra needed it in the past.

Turning to Ryliee, Ezra sighed, as he always did before a mission. "Ready to go?"