Late conversations Chapter 20

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Some nights are made for torture, or reflection, or the savoring of loneliness
Poppy. Z Brite

Belle watched the green blur together as they traveled down the road, her lip worriedly between her teeth... the low hum of the vehicle blending in with Morgan speaking lowly on his phone.

As they pulled up to an airport she was greeted by familiar faces, the puppy dog agent and the veteran. Her eyes lazily dragged over the newcomer's features, well, she was the outsider at this moment but that's beside the point. Moving on.

There stood awkwardly a blonde woman, petite, eyes an unnerving blue that reminded her of Ca-, of him. Her companion was a larger woman, rigid shoulders and a narrow nose, she looked cold... yet her eyes were warmer than her counterparts. Yeah, Belle doesn't know how she should feel.

As she rocked on her heels, fingers itching for the familiar feeling of steel between them, she wasn't an idiot most of these agents were armed, another man came up, well, Agent Douche came up. His disapproving scowl made her jaw tick, a sarcastic grin masking her fear up in seconds. Belle hummed as she felt Morgan twitch toward her, squaring his shoulders as if challenging his boss. Maybe he was?

She shouldn't care this much.

"Well," Rossi stares happily, clapping his hands together, "let's get home."

Belle fidgeted as they loaded and she slinked away to a corner, the seats less worn, less homely than where the agents were seated. As the plane jets jerked to life and they lifted to the air she began to hum, eyes tightly screwed shut, attention on breathing.

A voice broke her concentration, "Are you humming Metallica?"

The huntress jerked forward hand flying to her empty thigh, where the colt usually lay, apple green eyes searching for the voice.

"Yup," Belle popped her p as she relaxed back into her seat, "it calms me down, I didn't think Dr. Puppy Eyes would know Metallica."

He only smiled, albeit strained, and shrugged, "I like knowledge."

She nods as her eyes scan the cabin, most, if not all agents were sleeping or reading... boring. "Why haven't you passed out yet?" Belle questions, her lip catching her teeth.

"I don't know... I just can't." Spencer hesitated before continuing. "Why aren't you?"

The girl humphed as she shrugged her shoulders. "Same as you I suppose, memories. Though I am also surrounded by armed strangers sooo..." She trails off, a tight smile on her lips. Spencer's, since when did she think if him by his first name, eyes bore into her, it was such a warm colour...

"It's okay you know... we only want you safe." He says softly, "I can't tell you how the others felt but I knew as soon as we got the first video of you, you would be apart if our lives."

Belle hesitated before a warm feeling spread through her chest. With a grunt, and slight jostle of her shoulders she shook away the warmth, "Thanks Doc."

"Just stating fact, although, I-I-I am curious to how you've gotten so good at deducting! Even FBI classes aren't as advanced as you." Whilst the man stumbled slightly his face was so light Belle honestly couldn't resist and- oh goddamnit, these people are going to turn her soft. So she began to tell the tales of her deductive past. Not noticing the other agents rousing to hear her story.

The clouds flew by, and the sun soon dipped below the cloud, the only sound the hum of the engine, a whisper of breaths from the sleeping agents and tired old words falling from the young teen. Silvery, heavy recounts of her life as a child.

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