Three years later.
The dominating sound of her heels slamming onto the flooring as she advanced across the room diverted her workers attention discreetly her way. Her impassive expression left them feeling uneasy in their seats, squirming slightly whenever their stare would misplace itself on her seemingly cold eyes. It wasn't the brutal view on her work that many thought she shared, but instead it was her mere presence that left anyone in the room largely intimidated. She had a way in which she held herself, indistinct to her of course, but it was still evident to every soul that crossed her path. It was one that screamed the lifetime of pain that she'd been able to mask with every emotion possible, all aside from the one she was truly feeling.
Everyone knew what she had been through, the story had been told too many times for anyone to have missed it, but no-one chose to voice their words of sympathy. Instead she was greeted with the whispers of his name as the syllables were chanted along the walls of the building, always under the assumption that they would never reach her.
The egg shells her colleagues had been trained to walk on were and always had been in unfixable, miniscule pieces. His name was unavoidable in the industry she was in. She'd always known that, but she stayed nevertheless. It was the only life she knew and she couldn't dismiss her undying need to fulfil the tasks that he'd never had the opportunity to be faced with. She was living a life in the shadows of his past.
The misconception that she wasn't in control of her emotions was tossed around more often than she could count, but her and everyone that had managed to weave close enough to her knew that it wasn't the case. She was strong-headed, fully driven to bring about what she was certain he would have wanted. She wasn't on the brink of an emotional breakdown, but instead had taught herself to be content with the life she now led and not waste time weeping over the one she once had. He wouldn't have wanted that.
She was a girl that was not bound by her weaknesses but liberated from her strength. She had a job and knew how to get it done, though her talent didn't just lie with being exceptional out on the field but with knowing how to approach a situation from a variety of different viewpoints. She listened to the people around her, teaching them to see loops and holes that many would arguably waltz straight over.
She still had the ache in her chest. She undeniably carried it everywhere she went, but overtime she'd learn to accept its existence for what it was and let it serve as a reminder for what she had overcome. It didn't weigh her down as she had previously believed; it gave her devotion to work a purpose.
"Boss," her ears were greeted with the beckoning as soon as she had entered her office. The tall individual that had requested her attention stood by her window, nonchalantly swinging his gaze from watching the workers below to her distasteful expression.
"Ed," she hummed, shuffling to her desk before she reached her chair, gracefully taking a seat. "How long have you worked here?"
He looked perplexed for a moment though his face soon twisted into one of realisation as his mind heard the words she was about to utter. "Two years," he responded nevertheless. He was aware she knew the answer, but this was a ritual the two had become accustomed to.
"And how many times have I told you not to call me that?" She said, watching his expression intently.
"Too many," he sighed, causing a grin to appear on her face, satisfied with his answer. Ed advanced toward her desk, from where he slid a brown file over to her outstretched hand.
"What you got this time?"
"Two of Wood's men have been located outside a hotel downtown-"
"Wood as in Jonathon Wood?" she requested in surprise.
