Airports were too crowded for Ian's taste. He hated the bustle of the people jostling each other as they ran to catch their flight. This was why he traveled via private jet. Always.

The white tile floor clicked beneath Amy's heels, and she looked uncomfortable in the suit she was wearing. Pretending to be a married business couple had not been her idea of fun. At all. Thankfully, she didn't know about Vikram's plan, if their escape worked.

Vikram and Ian had had a long talk the previous night, going over every possibility, and finalizing the plan. There were a lot of factors that Ian had not thought of, and he was glad Vikram was there, for once in his life.

Amy was running hand through her hair. He looked over at her and said sweetly, "Would you like some coffee, honey? You look tired." The words were vague, and odd on his thick tongue. Sweet nothings were not words he was used to saying.

Amy smiled, and took his hand. "Of course." She said, smiling up at him.

Ian smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes, and he knew it. He stalked off towards a coffee shop, and ordered two small lattes.

Handing one to her, he took a sip out of his, and relished the taste of the hot liquid sliding down his throat.

And then Amy shrieked, and dropped her coffee. All over her suit.

"Oh, honey!" She said. "I'm so sorry!" Ian nodded, however so slightly, and Amy caught it.

Then she was gone, whirling away to the bathroom, and Ian tossed his coffee in the trash, and made for their escape exit. The bathroom.

He changed into shorts, and pulled on a dark wig. Popping in some contacts, he changed his eyes to a dull brown. Tossing his Armani suit into the trash, he came out looking slightly like a young athlete who was incredibly exhausted.

He sat down outside one of the gates, holding a duffel that he'd picked up. He would leave it behind when he was finished. As soon as the gate he was sitting in announced its departure, Ian clapped a hand to his mouth, and made gagging noises. The young woman sitting next to him, who had, at first been sitting as close as possible, slid away, grabbed her bag, and hurried towards the door.

Ian bent over, and then stood up, and ran to the bathroom.

He'd done it. He stayed in the bathroom for a while, making retching noises.

And then, twenty minutes later, the plane took off, and Ian Kabra walked away, a dead man.

The reports were all over TV.

The plane had crashed, killing all of its passengers. The list was published the next day, and Amy Cahill and Ian Kabra were listed.

They were officially dead. The Cat would never know the difference.

But for Ian Kabra and Amy Cahill, the results of their time in terrorism would affect the rest of their lives.

Who can forget the countless human beings one has murdered?

Who can forget the countless times they've watched the blood drain from their victims' bodies?

Ian sighed as he looked at yet another report of the crash. He shut off the TV, and turned to Amy, who was sitting next to Ian, a horrified expression on her face.

"Ian." She said, her chin quavering. "I thought it was such a good idea at the time, but now, I'm not so sure. All those innocent people dead, just to kill us."

Ian shook his head. "I know. But, Vikram told me that it was targeted anyways. He said not to ask how he knew, but that the plane was doomed."

Amy sighed. "So, The Cat, I mean, my dad, will think that we didn't know and innocently got on the plane?"

Ian nodded. "Right. In his eyes, he killed two birds with one stone. Or, five hundred people, and two rebels with one bomb."

Placing a worn hand up to her eyes, Amy rubbed them. "But, Ian. How are we going to hide? We're former terrorists. We can't just disappear!"

Ian looked at Amy, who had buried her face in her hands. "I wish I was never born." She moaned.

Ian, looking at Amy, couldn't help but notice despair, anger and frustration in the way she held her body. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "No." He whispered. "Don't. Because if you weren't born, I wouldn't be alive right now. I'd have killed myself a long time ago."

Amy looked up at him. "I know...but...how are we going to do this, Ian? Even our names! I can't call myself Amy or you Ian."

Ian sighed. "We will have to call ourselves something. And..." He paused. "Vikram said we had to pose as a married couple."

Amy looked up at Ian, horrified. "What?" She said, astonishment creeping into her voice. "I'm ok with a little bit of...of...fun once in a while, but...married? To you?" Amy set her jaw. "I am not sleeping in the same bed as you. Ever."

Ian smirked. "Why? You've done it before."

Amy glared at him. "That's different!"

"How?"

"It just is!"

"Explain." Ian was cool, unwavering.

"I could have gotten up and left, and you wouldn't have cared. But now, now..."

Ian smiled. "I stumped you. It isn't different."

Amy frowned. "I still think it is."

The Cat frowned as he looked at his records. Something didn't add up. But he couldn't understand why. He had planned, thought, looked at every corner and every possibility.

And then, looking closer at the videos he had hacked, it clicked. Ian Kabra was walking out of the airport, very much alive, but dressed in a sporty, American outfit.

The little jerk.

Ahaha! You thought I was done, didn't you, until you read that last paragraph?

Sorry, I am VERY mean.

And I must apologize for taking forever to update. And I feel like this story is going down the drain with each chapter. I must apologize for that. Like, seriously? I'm fucking this whole thing up.

And also, as of last time, when I published this, I got two reviews. TWO!

I said I wasn't going to update until I got 21, but a guest review persuaded me too. (Guest, you know who you are, thank you for reviewing!)

A huge shoutout to MademoiselleEtincelle for reviewing...and faithfully!

*sends a virtual kiss to Mademoiselle*

Thank you guys, and please remember to review.