TRAIN [FIRST DRAFT]

Prologue: Stefan's Morning

I awoke in the medic room. The birds were singing their late-morning melody; happy, too, that I had been allowed to sleep in for once. I had my forearm on my pillow and my head on my forearm, as I watched an overzealous Gavin pace back and forth on the tiles. I didn't ask questions...

Gavin ceased reflexively when one of Buckley's assistants strode into the room. She noticed that I was awake. I predicted her first statement: "Buckley wishes to see you two," she said, blank and emotionless. But her next sentence took me aback.

"He says it's bad news."

Gavin and I shared glances for a moment, before I tossed the covers onto the floor and jumped over the bottom bedframe. Once I'd clumsily donned my shoes, the two of us dashed out of the room. Bad news? Those words were as foreign to us as leprechauns and pots of gold. GINM had seen its fair share of dangerous misfortunes, but after a while it all becomes customary. What could be so bad that it was bad? It was about Aimee and we knew it. We fought for the handle at Buckley's office door and I had it until Gavin pushed me aside. But I didn't care who opened the door first; it wasn't like Aimee was standing behind it with open arms. Damn it... let her be okay. Gavin and I ambled into the room. He was standing tall, natural and calm, but there was worry in his eyes. I knew how he felt about Aimee. It was weird, but understandable, to think that we'd fallen in love with the same girl. She's magnetic.

"What happened?" Gavin growled, nearly sweating with trepidation.

Mitchel was seated in his chair, with his elbows on his desk. His fingers were weaved so that his chin fit between his knuckles. For once, there was paper-work on his desk, a tall stack of it. That explained the tedious expression on his face.

"Aimee's gone missing," he uttered.

"Yeah, we figured," I chimed in.

"What happened, Buckley?" posed Gavin, gritting his teeth.

He was pissed off. I couldn't blame him for looking at my father with ferventness and genuine annoyance. My father's an idiot.

"AIM got her last night," he sighed. "Sometime after eleven p.m."

There was silence. Gavin's fists were clenched, but he refrained from swinging a punch at Mitchel's face. His self-control was a lot better than mine; tears of rage and grief were already blobbing on my unabsorbing eyelashes. Gavin exited the room slowly, but he couldn't keep himself from slamming the door on his way. I glared at Mitchel. By then, my eyes were glossy. When I was certain my rage wouldn't compel me into skinning him, I drew nearer.

"You couldn't have told me last night?!" I yelled. "She's been out there with those people for hours then! You know how dangerous they are, she could be dead!"

I hurled his paperwork and the chair beside me into the wall so that his stupid self-portrait would fall onto the ground. I repeated "She could be dead," as my tears ran networks down my cheeks and the papers finally touched the floor. I sat down next to them, gracelessly.

"She could... she could..." I was unable to complete the sentence anymore.

My hands were hiding my cold face. All I could feel under my fingers were a few strands of my hair, and eyebrows and eyelashes, now plaited in tears.

"Aimee is not dead, Stefan!" roared Mitchel. "Get up!"

For a while I stayed in position as my face slowly regained its warmth. I was sure he could hear my weak sobbing. I got up. Not because he said to, but because I knew nothing would come of sitting uselessly on the floor.

"I have to get to France," I sniffed, trying to erase the memory of what had just occurred. When it came to Aimee, I could cry like a little girl, and I had just done so in front of the man who, as it were, hadn't even a modicum of respect for me.

"No, you don't, and you won't. She'll be fine as long as we act cleverly. I'll send someone else, someone..." - he glanced at his self-portrait - "with less of a temper."

He stood up and sauntered past me, leaving me in the room unaccompanied.

I sighed, and paused and thought about Aimee again. "She's fine," I said to myself. "She's made it this far, she'd never join AIM."

I was trying to be optimistic, but I was fidgety, jumpy even. I hung Mitchel's mocking portrait on the wall, put the chair back into the desk, and reorganised his paperwork, too flustered to see what he'd been reading. I fed the fish in his fish tank for the first time in a decade... different fish. This was me failing to keep my mind off of Aimee. I then sat nervously in Buckley's chair, but soon I couldn't take it anymore - just waiting for her return - so I exited the room. GINM was emptier than before, on the way to Mitchel's office. I didn't overthink that fact.

"Where could Gavin be?" I thought, hoping that he would fly me to Lorient.

I checked the medic room and the gym with no luck. I checked the labs. They all looked the same: tiled floors and metal desks with shiny equipment dimly lit due to the undersized windows that stretched along the also tiled walls. But the labs were all empty. I sighed in frustration, moaned, hitting my hand on the base of a microscope. I grasped the hand out of reflex, but I hadn't changed my focus or my expression. No matter how much it'd hurt.

"Well," I started talking to myself, naturally, "Gavin's obviously left. So, I'll leave on my own."

I'd barely finished my sentence and I had already begun running towards the elevator. I tapped the 'up' button rapidly, but it seemed as though the elevators were shut down. I took the stairs. I peered down at my feet to watch my step. I was moving so fast ascending the flight, wondering whether it was bad for my leg, even though I didn't feel any strain. Never mind. I shook my head as I began caring less. I made my way to the helipad, and then my helicopter. I geared up and strapped in, I was ready to fly. Nothing was going to stop me from getting Aimee back, not even a leg cast. And I wasn't gonna let Buckley and GINM do something stupid and risk losing the lives of good agents. Abba wanted nothing more than Aimee, but would we attack? We needed to strategize, use stealth over strength.

I'd already wasted enough time, but I'd almost bet that the GINM agents hadn't arrived at AIM yet. Aimee was still safe, unharmed, as I dashed through the air. And I was getting closer to her.