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theforgottengn · 7 years

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A Passionless Affair

Characters: Uniform, Unnamed Informant, India, Delta, Zulu

Word Count: 2,567 (not entirely sure if this is right btw)

Trigger Warning: Swearing. Mention of blood. Mention of sex.

Summary: First off here’s hoping that this posts this time around. If not I give up. Anyway. One-shot I’ve been wanting to do for a while just to get into Uniform's head space. Or to try to at least. Basically Uniform's narcissistic ideas finally come to life when an informant falls for him. Only problem with that is she thinks the two of them are getting married.

I awake at precisely 0300 hours like I always do. Being on a mission never changes my daily routine so no matter where I am I stick to my schedule. And one of the many benefits of a cell phone, besides the fact that having one makes it easier to blend in, is the alarm clock. Since it’s always set for the same time of day I always wake before the sun rises.

Today makes no difference.

Waking far earlier than the green-eyed, olive-skinned, brunette who still sleeps face down on the queen-sized bed in the hotel room. I don’t even look at her as I pull the covers off and quietly get out of the bed. I stretch for a minute or two before falling to the floor. That is when I begin my morning exercises with push-ups.

Counting aloud as I always do.

When the count hits 200 I turn into the sit-up position. At the same time I hear a quiet, mouse-like, groan. I can tell by the noise that the woman on the bed is waking but she isn’t important to me any longer. I don’t even remember her name not that it matters anymore. My job finally finished last night after three, long and arduous, months. I got what I needed and she was none the wiser.

I continue to ignore her and work through my routine.

“Good morning, handsome. You ready to talk now?” the woman coos in accented English as she moves to the edge of the bed. The creak of the cheaply made bed frames makes me grit my teeth in annoyance. I regret not putting in headphones and listening to music. Now I have no reason for ignoring the woman and her small talk but I continue to do so as I get up from the floor and begin lateral lunges.

“Hey,” she says as she throws a pillow at my face minutes later. I don’t even have to move to dodge her pathetic excuse for a throw. “Are you even listening to me?” she asks with a girlish pout.

No. I am not.

I turn to her with a confused look; “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because, you’re acting like you’re hiding something. I know everything about you, babe, don’t you think I can tell when you’re holding back?��

You do not know a thing about me, lady.

She sits on the edge of the bed and wraps her arms around my shoulders. Nuzzling her face into the side of neck she breathes in deep; inhaling my nasty after workout smell.

“We’ve known each other for such a long time it makes no sense to not talk about it. You can’t avoid marriage forever, and besides, don’t you love me?” she punctuates her question with a kiss of which I’m forced to return.

I face her and shrug; quickly flashing one of my million-dollar, heart-melting, smiles. “Sorry babe, but, I need to shower. Can we talk about this later?”

I don’t let the brunette answer before I enter the bathroom and lock the door. Once alone I shudder at all of this fake lovey-dovey bullshit. It means absolutely nothing to me. I turn the shower on full blast but don’t get in. Instead I put my comm. in my ear and make a call to India. As I wait for her to pick up I admire my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“Our intel was right,” I say once India answers on the other end.

“She confirmed our suspicions about the ambassador. He’s definitely going to make a move on the PM and it’s going to be very soon.”

She probably didn’t tell you how; they never do. Did she say when this was happening? Or where?

I curse under my breath when I realize I completely forgot to find out that information and hope India didn’t hear the obscenity I let slip. With everything else I’d been occupied with for the last three months it completely slipped my mind. I rub a hand over my face; utterly humiliated with myself.

“I don’t have that information, India.”

India sighs and I can imagine the face she’s making on the other end. A face I’ve seen about twenty total times in my life; counting right now. Each one for the very few times I messed up and she got mad. To be fair some of those times weren’t even my fault.

I deserve for India to be mad at me this time. This is all on me.

Just get it, and make a clean break with her, ok?

“Don’t I always?”

Before India can pull one of her classic moves and silently sign off I pull back. I have to tell her even if I don’t want to admit it.

“I can’t do it,” I confess.

What do you mean?

“Make a clean break. I can’t do it this time, Indy. There’s no way.”

Ok, you never call me Indy unless you’ve epically screwed up. Un? What did you do?

I run a hand through my hair and think of the best way to explain this. Realizing there is no best way I just blurt it out: “She’s in love with me!”

The informant? she snorts.

“No. My insanely hot, imaginary, biker girlfriend who goes to college and lives in Canada. What am I a pubescent teenage boy? Of course the informant!”

She’s in love with you?

“Didn’t I say that already?”

You? In love with you? I mean you say this almost all the time, about every person you’ve been with, Un. But this one’s real. She’s really in love with you? Like, for real?

“Yes! She’s in love with me, but, that’s not all. She wants us to get married.”

Now that’s a game changer.

“What do I do, Indy? Tell me what to do.” I say desperately.

But my plea is met with complete comm. silence from her end. I wait a few minutes but India doesn’t come back. Cursing myself I regret not calling Delta instead. I let out a frustrated scream and punch the mirror; breaking the glass and cutting my hand.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

A light knock on the bathroom door is followed by a call from the wannabe bride; “Everything okay in there?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Completely unsure of what to do I quickly grab a washcloth and hop into the shower. Holding cloth against my bleeding hand I stand under the water for a few short seconds then shut it off. Calmly, and as quickly as I can, I clean the glass from the cuts on my hand. Then I grab two more towels from the rack; another washcloth and a bath sheet. First I wrap the bath sheet around my waist. And then I wrap the washcloth around my hand; tightly. I take a deep breath, unlock the bathroom door, and open it.

“Oh my God!” she exclaims upon seeing my wrapped hand.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine. ... I, uh, slipped in the shower,” I say as calmly as possible.

“We should get something to eat. I’m starving. You? I’ll just change real quick and then we can go to that coffee shop you’re always talking about. Sounds good? Great.”

I rapid-fire as I rush out of the bathroom, grab some clothes from the closet, and dash back into the bathroom.

“Baby! You don’t have to do that,” she calls. “We’re going to be married soon and besides I’ve already seen...”

I mentally block her out as I change; I need to figure out a plan of attack for breaking it off with her. There is no easy way to do this and besides this woman is as crazy as they come. She’s dead set on believing that we’re getting married even though I’ve agreed to nothing of the sort. I dont want her to do anything reckless and psychotic when I end this. Ending this as quickly as possible is the best thing for the both of us.

I never had any feelings for her but I will admit I will miss one thing. The intimacy.

Fully clothed I take a look at myself in the mirror; stunning as always. As I began to style my hair I call out and ask her if she’s ready. She says that she needs a few more minutes and then calls me some other stupid pet name girls call their boyfriends. Not that I am her boyfriend or ever was. I’m thankful for the extra time and use it to figure out how to tell her the truth. Well, the parts I can tell her.

How do you explain that to someone? Where do you even begin?

“Oh, by the way, I never had any feelings for you. None. Even the sex we had was meaningless. I just liked the way your body felt against mine.”

Unsure of what to do, I start to pace from the worry, when a sudden call comes through my ear comm. And sure enough it’s the one person I should’ve called from the beginning. The sound of her bright, soothing voice calms me down almost instantly. She rehashes the gist of what I told India then takes a slight pause.

So, Un, what can I do to help?

“I don’t know Delta. This informant, she's... well, bat-shit insane is putting it lightly. Most people go for dinner and a movie for their first date. My usual go-to is either a bar or a wine-tasting event. But neither was good enough for her. On our first date she forced me to go with her to spray graffiti all over her old boss’ house. Besides all that this woman has known a fake version of me for only three months and she’s ready to marry him.”

Delta sighs and I can imagine her twirling strands of her blonde hair on her finger like she always does when she’s thinking. I hear the sound of air intake as Delta tries to begin her bit of advice, but, she’s cut off by a very loud and annoyed sigh.

“Zulu?”

Of course. If you’re looking for advice, Un, you’ve come to right place.

“I did not ask you, Zulu. You eavesdropped on us and then squeezed in like you always do!”

I can see her shrug as she says: Just doing my job. But in all seriousness, Un, you remember what I love to call you?

“A glorified spy-whore?”

Exactly! So, do what you do best and, whore your hot little ass around for a couple days. You’ll break her heart; she’ll cry and break it off, probably be emotionally scarred for life and, never love anyone ever again. You know, what you normally do.

Zulu! Not helping! Delta exclaims; almost shouting my ear off.

Un, don’t listen to her, okay?

“Like I was going to.”

Do what you do best. Lie through your teeth.

I end the call and exit the bathroom. I don’t even look at the woman as I grab my coat and leave the room. Once outside I call for a taxi and continue to ignore her. She tries to make some small talk about something but it falls on deaf ears. The brunette angrily crosses her arms and loudly huffs. I know she’s doing it to get my attention so I say nothing. When the black taxi pulls up I climb inside first instead of holding the door open for her.

We spend the entire cab ride to the coffee shop in utter silence; much to the annoyance of our driver.

Upon arriving at the coffee shop I allow the, now very angry, brunette to exit the taxi before I do. I pay the fee and thank the driver in his native tongue for putting up with us. He laughs and replies with some snide comment about his own wife. I fake a laugh and thank the man again before exiting the taxi. When I exit the taxi I see the woman waiting impatiently at the door to the coffee shop.

I offer my arm but she does not take it.

We walk inside the coffee shop together and sit at a table nearest to the door. I stand as she sits down and scan the rest of the coffee shop. Lucky for us the place is pretty much empty which is great just in case this crazy woman decides to cause a scene.

I sit down and say nothing but I can feel the woman’s eyes on me as I look at the menu. I’m not even reading the menu but instead gauging her reaction to the cold shoulder I’ve been giving her. She’s obviously not pleased and seems to be verging on angry again. I don’t want that because who knows what she might do.

I reach across the table and grab her hand. She looks at our intertwined hands then up at me. Her bold green eyes meet mine.

“I thought about what you said, Natalie, and if you’re making an official proposal then I say yes.”

“Oh my God! Really? I... Wait. Who’s Natalie?”

The happiness in her eyes quickly changes to pure fury. She tosses my hand away and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Heather. I meant Heather.”

“Who. Is. Heather?”

I pretend to be confused and act like I didn’t say some other woman’s name. The green-eyed brunette across from me is not buying into my act. She thinks she sees right through me. Throwing her hand up in the air she begins to accuse me of not knowing her name; which is entirely true because I don’t know her name.

“Are you cheating on me, Richard Patrick Stephens?”

So that’s what my fake name was!

She barely ever called me by my fake name these past three months, mostly calling me baby and other pet names like that, so I had completely forgotten what it was. Taking the small moment to smile at my own stupidity of forgetting my fake identity I laughed. She thought I was laughing at her and she did not take that response well.

“You think this is funny?”

“I do, because you’re right. I am cheating on you. And I have been cheating on you ever since we started dating. But, I’m not cheating anymore. I love you.I promise I’ll never do it again. I swear on my mother’s grave I’m not that person anymore. You’ve changed me, Amanda.”

“My name’s Sofia, you fucking asshole!”

With that she tosses her glass of water in my face and storms out of the coffee shop. When she was fully out of sight I also left. As I walked down the street I called India on the comm. link to tell her the good news. Then I remembered I never got the rest of the information I needed since I was too distracted with the marriage proposal. I quickly ended the call before India could pick up.

Exhaling deeply I was far beyond relived I escaped a forced, and entirely loveless, marriage. Finally ridding myself of the psychotic woman I was forced to spend three months with was the greatest feeling in the world. And even though my stupidity might have cost us this mission I do not care at all.

Only thing left to do is cut her out of all the pictures of us.

#here's a thing #if it ever actually posts #the forgotten #story snippet #one-shot #india company #agent uniform #agent india #agent delta #agent zulu #induni #delform #zuni #that induni dialogue seems more fitting for zuni now that i re-read it #oh well #live and learn i guess

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