<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fimgur.com%2FT4ryE87&amp;hash=dff6adf049a9dde09cb600080e9cc7c0" href="https://imgur.com/T4ryE87" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">William O'Brennen</a><br/><div style="text-align: center">​</div><br/>She was less of a mystery to him than he had been to her, his chief having passed along her file including a picture and a brief synopsis of why they were sending her, and him, hundreds of a miles away to what essentially was the middle-of-nowhere. At least, that’s what it would be to those who sought her, an indefinable, untraceable place that didn’t even show up on some maps.<br/><br/>Well, that was fine. He could use a break from the city as it was, the restlessness of it wearing him thinner almost every year. He’d had plans to leave after this, to transfer to a smaller department somewhere out in Montana where there was little for mischief but the drunk tractor-driving farmer. That seemed like bliss compared to the shit he’d had to deal with here, creating a depressing, albeit misleading collage of what it meant to be human; violent and impulsive.<br/>He had joined the force to help people, like most of his colleagues, but found himself more often reprimanding their behavior and cleaning up the messes of their bad decisions.<br/><br/><br/>“You’re one lucky Irish, son-of-a-bitch O’Brennen.” Jessie Cullen, his long-time partner and friend, had jealously scrutinized him his last day in the city as he packed up what he’d needed from his desk and stowed away the rest until further notice. “What I wouldn’t give for a vacation right now.”<br/><br/>“Hardly a vacation.” Will countered; flipping one more brief time through the files on Mia Henderson and her more than complicated family.<br/><br/>“Yeah well it’ll be easy, considering. The woman hardly wants anything to do with her family anyway it seems, so it’s not likely she’ll put up a fight. And on top of that she’s awfully pretty, good for you.” She flashed him a grin, one he was all too familiar with, the one she’d exchanged for friendly and prying rather than previously flirty and suggestive. He’d been quick to dismiss any indication that he’d involve himself with a coworker, having made that brutal mistake once before– and that once was all it would take.<br/><br/><br/>“For one,” he started, closing the file to loosely toss atop a short pile of other unrelated work he’d be bringing along to preoccupy his time away from home with. “I don’t think even the most passive soul would be happy bein’ stuck out in the middle of nowhere without a single familiar face to talk to. The lass’ has got friends as much as a life she’s leavin’ behind, you realize. And two, lord save you if you’ve forgotten’, it’s completely against policy to be involved with witnesses..” He glanced at her, with a look less surprised for her insinuation rather than to abate that thought in her mind altogether.<br/><br/><br/>Jessie shrugged, leaning hip-first against his desk, folding her arms loosely across her chest. “What happens in the safe house stays in the safe house.” She winked at him, resolving quickly to a laugh for the expression she’d garnered for it. He knew she was joking, but it was still hard not to point out as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. She'd call him a damn liar. Hell, she’d seen Mia’s picture and she certainly was no plain Jane. “And I’m just saying, it could be worse. We’ve had to play house with actual criminals simply because they managed to strike some wicked good deal for their exposing information just to kept their ass out of jail, and that is the definition of not-a-vacation.”<br/><br/>“Well then I’ll consider myself ‘lucky’ if it makes you feel better for pouting.”<br/><br/>“It does.”<br/><br/>_______<br/><br/><br/>She hadn’t been wrong to be jealous. The house was nice enough, definitely a place he wouldn’t mind spending extended time in relaxation or otherwise, and the town, though small, was… cozy, for lack of a better word, with plenty to apparently do and room to do it. A town of a couple hundred people it wasn’t an outpost by any means, but quite the welcome contrast from being shoulder to shoulder with strangers on the daily.<br/>And for once he’d felt like he had room to breathe.<br/><br/><br/>Everything of his own worth taking along (which contrastly amounted to about a suitcase and a duffel) fit just as easily into his unmarked truck, black and plain, even with a knick and pit here and there, worn and used on the outside, unobtrusive and not worth a second look. Under the hood it’d had a few more accommodating tweaks that would allow them either a grand escape or an advantage in a chase, but nothing otherwise stood out for his allotted mode of transportation.<br/>Nothing otherwise would stand out for his person either aside his irremovable accent, Will otherwise making a point to be casual in his attire with no intent to sport his uniform at any point while here. Instead he’d donned a plain black long-sleeve and jeans, work-boots better for the terrain, and dark, unadorned coat for the chill of the morning.<br/><br/>Playing the part; just a regular man and a regular woman living their unobtrusive lives in an unobtrusive town. He could only hope Jessie was right, that Mia was resigned to her new however involuntary situation enough to play the part.<br/><br/><br/>When he’d finally arrived it was obvious she’d not made it yet, leaving him time to wander the perimeter of the lot and eventually the house.<br/>Lakeside, they’d really struck gold so far as a place to be stuck, with views of that and the thick woods beyond on constant presentation for a wall of windows on the eastern side of the main living room. There was even a back deck to occupy, if they so chose, a good place to indulge coffee and watch the sun rise for the morning.<br/><br/>Lucky son-of-a-bitch he was after all.<br/><br/>But that was better to be confidently said when he officially met his company– who was already running late, he noted with a quick glance at his watch. So, to better preoccupy his time he moved on to assess the rest of the house, intending to become familiar with every space, every exit, in the event that that knowledge would come in handy in haste.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>When she’d finally arrived herself he’d heard her first, having just left his exploration of the main bedroom, the soft tick of… heels? on wood as she made her way through the front door and onward toward what he recalled as the kitchen. So he moved to meet her, though not in too much of a hurry, straying his attention through the extra rooms in passing as a collective effort to recall which was which as quickly as he could.<br/><br/>Her voice rang out then, seeking his presence– or well, officer ‘Jim’s’ presence, before she clicked about some more. The soft tussle of a paper-bag preceded her footsteps as she eventually made her way toward the living room, likely to indulge the sights as much as he had himself. So, he followed the sound, his company inevitably announced when she’d fallen to silence and the older wood beneath his own weight sighed aloud as he joined the general space she’d lingered. But, all his unintended but quiet sneaking she’d not been prepared for his arrival, and turned around with a quick, inhesitant hurl of whatever had been in her hand.<br/><br/>“Jesus–!” Will barked, stepping aside just in time for the bagel sandwich, apparently, to collide with a soft thunk against the wall, it’s innards revealed in a sprawl of bacon and cheese on the floor. His expression to follow was likely expected, a contour of pinched brow in surprise and brace for her to fling her whole self swinging next. But she didn’t, apparently as surprised somehow as himself for something else, resigning quietly that he was no ‘Jim’ before more audibly scolding his too-quiet approach.<br/><br/><br/>“Sorry,” He answered, still eyeing her cautiously a moment longer. A lass certainly quick to the trigger... Somehow he’d felt she wouldn’t be entirely helpless in a situation if he weren’t there for her rescue and she'd had a bagel to spare. That was good in consideration, less he become the definition of an actual babysitter.<br/><br/>She approached then, the transition between startled and ready-to-fight to friendly enough, smooth as she reached a hand between them, offering her name in exchange of his own.<br/><br/>“William O’Brennen or Will, preferably.” He replied, taking her hand for a brief and polite shake. Prettier in person, if it could have been possible, no less amplified by her choice of clothing; a dress fit for the place they’d come from rather than the one they’d now and foreseeably occupied. Not that he was complaining, necessarily.<br/>Unless that was all she packed he’d hardly have the mind to encourage her to dress down, just yet.<br/><br/>Plus, there were more pressing matters.<br/><br/>“So.. who the hell is Jim?”<br/><br/><div style="margin-left: 20px">​</div>