CATCHING THE MOON

< Athaire

UTC+2 0307 AM

Rooftop on construction site >

One foot against the edge to support him, One Shot grabbed her wrist with his right hand and pulled as hard as he could, the other grabbed her waist and her body shifted direction – and then, her weight tipped them both over and they stumbled to the ground.

When Angel opened her eyes, she was sitting on a groaning One Shot. He felt like his head was splitting in two. The ground had proven not to be very forgiving.

"Could you move?" he asked looking up at her.

Large eyes stared back down at him. And after a second, she said nonchalantly, "Sure," and dropped her whole weight down on him.

"Uf! What –" he started to say when he met her eyes. She was now lying flat on top of him, with her head propped up on her palms, as her elbows were digging into his shoulders for support as if she was leisurely lying in bed, reading a book. Behind her head, he could see that she had intertwined her feet around each other and was dipping her toes back in forth all excited. But that was not what made him forget to breathe. The look in her eyes with her face just inches apart was what threw him off. She wore a peaceful expression, with her smile emitting warmth and happiness. Though he was sure he had never looked at anyone that way, she was looking at him as if she was lost in love.

"Got cha." And then her grin widened, showing pure, childlike joy.

"…what?"

"The moon." She said and looked at him full of affection. Her head tilting slightly to one side as she lit up with enchantment, "It's in your eyes."

One Shot was speechless for the first time in years. He couldn't move. It seemed as if time stood still. But his heartbeat was ringing loud and clear in his ears. No rational thought was left inside his mind. He was drawing a complete blank. This had never before happened on any of his missions.

"Can I have one?"

As she reached out one hand, he snapped out of his trance. It looked like she was about to poke his eye with her spiky fingernails. He caught her hand in midair.

"No." He must have gone mad for a moment, and now it was time to get a grip and get back on track.

Her joy disappeared in a second. Instead, a pleading expression showered down on One Shot.

"Please? How about a star then? They say there are countless of them, why can't I have just one?"

"Enough!" He was spending time he did not have on a drunken woman who was spouting nonsense. If any of the other agents heard of this, he'd be a laughingstock for weeks.

Without a moment's notice, he flipped around and pinned her down to the ground underneath him. A glance on his watch alarmed him. He had wasted too much time already. He looked up to see his cap a few feet away and reached out to grab it. As a cold pointed end touched his exposed neck, he froze.

Was it a weapon? As his heart was racing in the possibly last moments on earth, his mind was racing for a solution. What could he do? What was her motive? If she had intended to kill him, she would have done so by now. If not, what was her intention? Why wasn't she saying anything? He shuddered as he felt the cold sharp tip slide on his neck. Then there was nothing, no touch, no sound – until she giggled like a little girl.

He glanced down to see her holding a pen in her hand. And he connected the dots quickly between the pen in her hand and her loosening hair on the other. On one hand, he wanted to ask what she had drawn on his neck, but on the other hand, he knew he did not have the leisure to do so. Without wasting another moment on the drunk woman, he stood up, picked up his cap, and started walking back to his position. If she failed to realize a life-threatening situation, she surely was too drunk to question anything –

"Ah," she murmured at that moment as she sat herself up, "I forgot to ask. Who are you and why are you here?"

He stopped midway. Not as naïve as I thought. But there was no good excuse for someone being on a construction site at 3 AM in the morning with weather like this. A thought occurred to him, and he gave it a shot. Hopefully, she would just mindlessly go along with it.

"Just a meteorologist." He said, his back still turned to her.

"Liar." He glanced back at her. The way she had so resolutely pointed out the truth was unnerving.

"Why do you think so?" Depending on her answer, he would have to take the appropriate steps according to the protocol to minimize damage and or risks of being traced back to the agency.

"I can see your violin from here," she said, pointing with her finger to the air vent, on which One Shot had placed the violin case.

"Can you play me one song?"

One Shot breathed a sigh of relief. From this perspective only the case, not the weapon behind the vent, was visible.

"No." Even if he wanted to, it was not like he could.

"If you're not here to play the violin, why are you here?"

"You curious?" He asked while his fingers lifted his sweatshirt to reveal his multi-purpose belt. Swiftly, he clipped out a small flask and cloth from the pockets incorporated into the belt and let a few drops drip down onto the cloth. Then he secured the flask back to its original position and hid the cloth in his sleeve as he glanced over his shoulder back at the new target of an unauthorized personal operation. Civilian lives must not be put into unnecessary danger, and in this case, ignorance would prove to be a bliss to her.

She looked over her glasses up at where he was standing. While his back was turned to her, the way he looked down at her over her shoulder was unsettling for anyone sober enough to realize when one was facing a danger one would be better off running away from.

But she simply said with a monotonous voice drained of any energy or emotion, "Sure."

That said, One Shot turned around and walked back to her, his shoes penetrating the surface tension of the rain puddles as he passed them by. Like a predator, his movements were sleek and directed towards only one destination. When he came to a halt right beside her, he crouched down and smiled ever so sweetly at her – a smile that failed to reach his eyes, hidden in the shadows.

"Curious enough to pay with your life to know the answer?"

"Sure."

Her answer came without hesitation but caught him off guard once again. Her answer was straight forward and clear. But her expression was somber and serious. His hands twitched. Somehow, she had a talent for surprising him.

"I don't particularly value my life right now, and it's not like anyone would miss me either. My parents have died, I don't have siblings, and my best friend cheated on me with my boyfriend. They're getting married tomorrow…on my birthday. You know what the worst thing is?" She coughed out a dry laugh. "I went out to drink to forget about all of this, but instead," a hiccup, "it's more vivid than ever." She faced the ground while sour tears rolled down her cheek.

There was an emptiness in her that struck him to the bones. It was all too familiar. He could see it every day in the mirror.

Stone-faced, he moved closer to her. She sat still as he raised his hand and wrapped it slowly around her. He moved behind her and for any outside, it might have looked like he was giving her a hug. But then, his hand shot out from behind her to press the cloth over her mouth and nose, and after a few moments of struggle, her limbs went numb and her eyelids dropped shut. The last look she gave him was one full of betrayal. But all her struggles had been in vain, for she had not even left a single scratch on him. He watched her slowly drifting off and the last tears traveled down her cheeks and dripped down her chin. Even though he knew she could no longer hear him, he whispered ever so quietly, "I'm sorry."

Careful not to hurt her, One Shot lay down her limb body. Tears had left strains on her face and he reaches out to wipe them away when a vibration alarmed him. His glasses slipped out and he noticed an incoming call from Chris.

Panic broke out inside him as he rose from the ground and sprinted back to his position – in time, to see a plain gray Sedan drive away out of reach below him. A curse slipped through his lips, before he fixed his position and picked up the call.

"Report."

"Agent 256781234, mission status report: Failed."

The other side was quiet for a moment. "You never failed before. What happened?"

One Shot looked back down at the sleeping woman on the roof.

"I met an angel."