One.

C.

It all began with my attempted murder.

I was ripped from my sleep upon hearing the sound of breaking glass. A force of habit, I glanced at the clock before I searched for the source of the sound. 4:30. Tess's bed was empty still.

Feeling slightly on edge now, I stood up, tightening my robe around me. Where was that draft coming from? My foggy mind tried to put two and two together. The broken glass, the draft…

Someone or something had broken my window.

And it was only as my eyes travelled towards the shards of glass scattered on the floor that I realized it: I wasn't alone.

The sound of heavy breathing resonated in the corner of the room. I felt my pulse quicken and my stomach drop as my eyes met the cold dark ones of the intruder standing in the shadows of my room.

"Who are you?" My voice was riddled with alarm.

He didn't respond, only taking one tentative step towards me. As he moved, a flicker of light caught my eyes. It was the moonlight, reflecting off of the blade I now recognized he was holding.

A stranger had broken into my room in the middle of the night brandishing a knife. I had to be dreaming.

My heart was pounding, but I began to feel suddenly brave. It was with this adrenaline rush that I reached for the largest textbook in my vicinity and threw it square at the intruder's stomach.

Not even listening for his response, I ran across the room, undoing the latch of the door, throwing it open and then slamming it shut behind me. I sprinted away from my room, down the hallway and up three flights of stairs, screaming the whole way and stopping only to catch my breath.

Then I heard the sound of someone else's footsteps thumping up the stairs behind me.

"Help!" I shrieked louder than I knew I was capable of, "Please somebody, help me! Anyb-"

My cries for help were drowned out when I felt a leather gloved hand close over my mouth. The rest of the man's body followed as he tackled me forcefully to the ground. My head connected painfully with the metal stair railing as I fell, and I let out yet another cry.

My view of the concrete floor was replaced with that of the man's unfeeling face as he dug the toe of his boot into my side and rolled me over

"HELP!" I shouted hysterically, forcing myself to my feet despite being cornered.

The man's dark eyes narrowed and the next thing I knew, he had slapped me hard across the face. I was momentarily stunned, the sting of his slap and the ache of his tackle feeling all very real. What if I wasn't dreaming? What if someone was really trying to hurt me?

"What have I ever done to you!" I shouted, my voice steady despite a fear so overwhelming that I felt I may collapse.

The man took two heavy steps towards me. Cornered, I had no choice but to look into his empty eyes.

I watched as he raised his cold hands and closed them around my neck, heaving a hoarse, dry laugh. "It's not what you have done to me," his voice was hollow and heartless, "it is what you have threatened to do to this country."

As he began applying pressure around my neck and I felt the air leave me, I began to choke, coughing and sputtering loudly, all the while as dark eyes looked dispassionately into mine.

I began to struggle violently now, kicking and thrashing at him despite the fact that I felt my consciousness leaving me. The same eyes laughed at me now as if thinking I could overpower him were of unbelievable hilarity.

What did he mean; I had threatened my country? I was a broke medical student, not some crazed terrorist…

The frightening feeling that reminded me of staying underwater for too long before coming up for air began to overtake me. I felt tears prick at my eyes. I was a coward that would die weeping.

The room was silent except for the heavy rasping sound of my weakening lungs gasping for air as he choked me. I continued to attempt to thrash at him, but my resolve was fading with my lack of oxygen supply. My consciousness began to leave me, my vision was blurring and the walls surrounding me were fading.

I felt my body beginning to go limp and my last breath escaping me.

Was this it?

Would I die without understanding why I was being attacked? Would I die here, alone in my dorm, far away from my parents?

Would I die feeling mediocre about my life?

I let my eyelids flutter shut, thinking with dread that my last visible memory would be staring into the garish orbs of a killer.

That my last feeling would be hollow regret.

My legs gave way and the pressure upon my neck intensified tenfold as his vice on my neck was now the only thing supporting me.

And then, right as I was about to give in to the beckoning darkness, the pressure around my throat disappeared.

I dropped to the ground, my head hitting the floor for a second time with a painful thump.

I could hear the tortured sound of my rasping and greedy gasps for air, but even as my eyelids fluttered open, all that surrounded me remained a dark, meaningless blur.

There was more than one person in the stairwell now. The sound of shuffling feet, yelling and grunting told me there was a fight going on, and somewhere beneath the haze of my wavering consciousness, I hoped that someone might notice me.

This time as I felt my eyelids close and my breathing thin, I didn't miss the sudden screaming in my direction.

Only, they weren't screaming my name.

A rugged and determined voice I wouldn't soon forget, feeling a million miles away, was the most predominant.

"Natalie," he shouted, as the last of my will left me, "Nat damn it, don't die on me!"

I gave in.

My name is Chloe.

Will.

The only sound piercing through the darkness was that of Natalie's gasps for air as the agent they had sent strangled her.

It immediately occurred to me that something was wrong. Choking someone to death wasn't the clean and easy method I had been informed they were planning to use.

They wanted to kill Natalie and they wanted to make it seem like her death was an accident.

Choking her to death was a dead give away. Nobody was accidentally choked to death.

Something wasn't right.

The rookies stood behind me as I pulled the guy off of her. She slumped to the floor, her eyelids fluttering open and closed, and her breathing ragged.

"Natalie," I shouted, letting the two guys I had with me take care of disarming her attacker, "Nat damn, it don't die on me!"

Her eyes blurred over, and I watched as they closed again and her body collapsed on the floor.

I tried to be mechanical as I rolled her over and searched for signs of breathing. I felt a wave of relief as I listened to her shallow breaths. She was still there, if only barely.

Then I listened to the sound of a heavy body falling to the floor, and Tim's voice behind me say, "Shit,"

I knew without having to turn around that he had messed up. Part of assembling a team of new recruits meant having to deal with error.

The assassin lay dead on the floor.

And even though I wanted to scream at Tim with force I rarely used for killing our only chance at getting more information regarding Nat's predicament, I knew our time was running out. It wouldn't be too long now before this assassin's backup came to see if the job was done or not.

It wouldn't be too long before someone in this building decided to investigate where all this noise had been coming from.

The fact that the assassin had come alone was more than enough to be sending alarm bells off in my head. Others would be coming, of that I was certain. Within an hour, news was going to spread that the assassin was dead and Natalie wasn't. We needed to cut our losses here and move.

So, hoisting Nat's limp body over my shoulders, I barked at the rookies to keep moving, and we were off into the darkness of the early morning, leaving the dead man behind.

When James pulled up with the van, we all scrambled in and he gunned it, his eyes glancing nervously to the rearview mirror.

"Is she alive?"

James was perhaps the only rookie I could see myself in. He had been the only one who offered to drive without complaint. He seemed to understand that his chance for action would arise eventually and there was no point in pushing for his turn.

I placed Natalie in a seat, watching her carefully. "She's hanging on."

The rookies that had accompanied me were silent. Tim had killed the assassin. Red was undoubtedly feeling guilty for failing to intervene.

I would deal with them later.

We arrived at Red's, which had unofficially become our meeting spot. His guilt was palpable as he uncharacteristically fumbled with the keys at the door. James rolled his eyes, grabbing the keys from Red and letting us in.

Natalie stirred in my arms. A good sign, I brought her into the main room and lay her down on the couch. We couldn't exactly bring her to a hospital. The bruises already forming on her neck and face were bound to bring up questions we didn't want to have to answer.

The three rookies hovered around me as Nat slowly blinked her eyes open and took in her surroundings.

Something was wrong.

She looked confused and scared and utterly un-Natalie like.

I had known and despised Natalie's ability to keep her emotions guarded since we were kids. It was one of the many reasons we had lost touch in the past decade. I had known her forever, but I felt confident in declaring that I never had and never would truly know Natalie Somers.

Whether she had been close to dying or not, I knew Natalie would never give me a look like this.

And it was then that a sudden and unpleasant thought occurred to me.

What if this wasn't Natalie.

I grabbed her wrist without taking care to be gentle, and felt a sinking sensation in my stomach as I realized a perfectly innocent girl had almost been murdered tonight.

Natalie had a tattoo on her left wrist, and this girl's wrist was bare.

I swore loudly.

Natalie was still somewhere out there, and we were no closer to knowing where she was today than yesterday.

"What's going on?" Tim urged me. As if he hadn't caused enough trouble today by killing our lead, now I really wanted to tell him to shut his damn mouth.

"This isn't Natalie," my voice was resolute.

Now that I gave her a better look, it surprised me that I hadn't noticed this girl was not Natalie sooner. Her eyes were brighter despite the fog of confusion clouding over them, and her face portrayed a softness that I knew Natalie couldn't imitate if she tried.

She was certainly years younger. She had been attacked in her own dorm room that night under the premise that she was Natalie, the woman stupid enough to have an affair with the president and then threaten to out him, this close to reelections…

"We've got to get her out of here," Red was saying, "If she remembers our faces… Game over."

Her eyes were beginning to focus now, looking directly over to me. Thick lashes brushed over her green eyes as she blinked again, eyes adjusted to her surroundings and peering sharply into mine.

Her stare was another world away from Natalie's.

It already was game over.

But it didn't have to be.

I stood up.

"Boys, say hello to our new secret weapon."

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Author's Note: I'm back! Hope you guys give this story a chance, it's not my usual style! Oh and please check out adropofromeo dot blogspot dot com! Great little site where you can find more stories to read :) Leave me a review telling me what you think so far!