Not If I Save You First

seven | target practice

"I want to go into the FBI. Become a profiler for the Behavioral Analysis Unit," Archer said.

"Well, I don't know much about psychology," I said, lying. "But I do think you're a talented profiler already. Your parents are going to be proud of your career future."

I know almost everything about Psychology.

Archer does have a real skill for profiling, but I know all of that too. Profiling and studying micro expressions is good for interrogations. I've been told that my typical interrogation methods are unorthodox.

I get criminals to tell me the truth by bashing their heads into walls.

The Joker once said: Never start with the head. The victim gets all fuzzy. 

Fuzzy is the same as being drunk. Getting the shit beat out of you is like drinking the truth serum. Also, the perps don't want to get beat up by a teenage girl, sometimes they give me their confession in order to keep their dignity. Toxic masculinity is their own kryptonite. 

I'm a spy. I believe in evidence over coercion. I spend months on a mission gathering evidence to put the bastards behind bars. I don't beat false confessions out of people, but I do sometimes beat up criminals.

I'm not the police.

After midnight on a Saturday night in New York City. Everyone's seen the movies. Drunk people stumbling out of bars, with loud music blaring out of the clubs.

"Do you want me to walk you home? Especially since you refuse to take public transportation," Archer offered.

"I'm good," I said. "But I'll sit in a cab with you to my apartment, because I'm not ready to say goodbye yet," I smiled.

Archer gave his signature soft smile. The smile unveils his dimple on the left side.

Archer reached over and intertwined our fingers. He didn't bother to look down at our hands, but I instantly felt his fingers tense when I didn't pull away. The inside of my wrists rubbed over his wrist, and I could feel his heartbeat slightly pick up from its resting heartbeat.

We walked until we were able to flag down a cab.

No talking necessary.

Watching our surroundings in order to keep Archer Hawthorne safe is a lot harder to do when I'm standing next to him. I can't let him see me surveilling the area. Archer Hawthorne is unobservant to things. He's only paying attention to the world around him when he's profiling a person or studying his psychology textbooks.

Being subtle with watching every person and looking down every alleyway is harder than it looks. I can't have Archer asking questions, so hopefully he remains unobservant to this.

"So, do I get to take you somewhere next time?" Archer asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"If you can think of somewhere better than a shooting range, then you get to take me somewhere," I said, smiling. Archer and I haven't seen a cab yet, so maybe we'd end up walking back to the lower east side. "Where were you going to take me?" I asked.

This may be a mission, but I've never been on a date. I had to fake date the Prime Minister of Australia's son once, but that doesn't count. I refused to let that spoiled bastard touch me.

Archer and I haven't known each other for long.

In all honesty, Archer doesn't know a single thing about me. I prefer to keep it that way.

"I have a family friend who works in Times Square. I was going to take you to the top where the New Year's Eve ball gets dropped, to look out over Times Square," he explained.

"I'll do that with you under one condition," I smirked.

"Please enlighten me on that condition," he whispered.

"You let me come to your apartment to play pool anytime I want," I said. I need a regular invitation into Archer Hawthorne's apartment. "You let a stranger into your house, and I don't know if I'm looking into something that isn't there, but maybe you're looking for company just as much as I am."

Playing on his morals and on his conscience.

Genius play by Seven.

"You're not wrong. I don't know if it's because we met so abruptly, but I feel like I can trust you. I feel like I need you right now," he said.

That's it!

I'm in!

Archer Hawthorne officially wants me in his life.

Now all I need is to hope that Little Dean puts me under as a black operation.

Commander claims that going anywhere near Archer Hawthorne is a breach of national security. I don't care if this kid were the child of the damn President. I accomplish missions on my own terms. Commander doesn't deserve the right to tell me what to do.

She lied to me about my parents knowing the Hawthorne's.

If Little Dean switches my status, then I won't ever have to tell Commander any of my developments. Then I'll be able to find Archer Hawthorne's parents alive. Bringing them home safely and getting justice for Diane and Anthony.

Archer reached forward and pulled the cab door open for me.

"Wow, being chivalrous is in your list of skills. You must really sweep your girlfriend off her feet," I laughed.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he whispered, his mouth hovering close to my lips as I pushed past him into the cab.