Rated T

The view over Neo-Paris is incredibly beautiful at night. I have no idea what the city looks like during the day, as last time I was in an airship like this we touched down in Slum 404 before I even had the chance to see, but the neon lights currently flickering around is a spectacular display.

I'm leaning over in my seat, hypnotised by the reflections dancing on the water surrounding the prison, when I feel Edge's hand twitch under mine. His fingers are tapping in an easy rhythm on the top of my hand in what I assume is a motion to get my attention. I turn back to face him only to see he's resting comfortably against his chair, his head tilting away from me with a small smile playing on his lips.

Within the small amount of hours Edge spent at La Bastille he's begun to grow a thin layer of facial hair, giving him a very distinct, a very different look, to the man I first met. Seeing him so content and relaxed makes something in the pit of my stomach tingle with a feeling of butterflies that I pointedly try to ignore. In an effort to disregard the tingling sensations I turn my head even further around to observe the Leapers quietly rocking in their metal cages behind us.

They were pitiful creatures that vaguely resembled humans, but were human enough that I couldn't help but feel sympathy for them. I knew what it was like to be holed up in a prison, having others treat you like less than human, and watching these Leapers struggle to crouch into a comfortable position makes my heart ache for them. One of them stops shuffling around to catch my eye and I grip Edge's hand tightly in an instinctual response to the sudden rush of fear that goes through me. Its milky white eyes stare at me, as its head tips in confusion at my presence. The drooping skin that half-resembles a mouth alternates between open and closed as it reaches a molten hand out through the bars in my direction.

Edge's head snaps back to meet mine at my sudden increase of strength against his palm and I motion silently to the Leapers behind us. He spares them a quick glance before shaking his head at me, straightening his back and tightening his own grip in return. I can feel all the ease he had previously just wash away as a heavy tension replaces it. Even his grasp begins to feel more claustrophobic than comforting.

I look towards the other two Enforcers on the aircraft, hoping they haven't noticed our intimate displays with our hands and thankfully they haven't. They're too busy mumbling to each other to pay Edge or me any attention at all and I think they might even be avoiding having to look at us on purpose.

Nevertheless I let go of Edge, paranoia welling up in me at the thought of all the questions the others might start asking if they saw us holding hands. Questions I wouldn't have any answers to, questions I don't think even Edge would have answers to if he ever decided to speak.

Edge looks at me with an expression I can't make out through his helmet, but by the way his fingers curl harshly into his own palm and his lips pull into a straight line, I think he may be disappointed that I let go of him so quickly. I'm about to reach back out to take it again but I decide against it and instead lean back against my seat to calm myself, waiting for this hour long ordeal to be over.

It takes a little under five minutes before I feel the aircraft slow down. I peer out of the window again to see a large, glass dome slowly rise up to meet the craft as we descend onto it. This must be our destination point.

'They're not really going to land on this thing, are they?' I think with a quick gasp. There's no way the weight of this machine could land on the glass ceiling without crushing it into tiny pieces. It looks much, much too fragile.

When I hear the bottom of the aircraft scrape the glass roof of the dome I close my eyes and grasp frantically at my armrests, preparing myself for the large drop I know must be coming. It doesn't though. Cracking an eye open I look around at the men only to find their amused faces smirking back at me. Even Edge is clamping his lips together in an unsuccessful effort to stifle his laughter at my expense.

With burning cheeks I stand up with the others, who've already started the process of equipping their gloves, though they haven't lost their taunting smiles.

"No offense, but you don't seem dangerous enough to need escorts," one of the Enforcers smirk as he moves passed me and heads towards the Leaper cage. His glove lights up and attaches around the necks of the creature-like humans, almost like he was leashing them the same way one would do a pet. "Come on, you filthy buggers."

The other burly Enforcer does the same with the rest of the Leapers as Edge fits his glove back over his bare hand. With the soldiers distracted he picks up a spare glove, lying discarded at the side of the aircraft, and throws it in my direction.

I catch it in the air and quickly slip it on over my wrist before anyone has a chance to stop me. The material is lighter than I expect it to be and I can feel the raw energy it holds coursing through it, making my fingers vibrate softly.

"Let's go," the man with the Leapers says, holding his hand in front of him motioning for Edge and I to leave first. The space we're in is too small for him to try to manoeuvre around us.

With a sturdy jump Edge is the first one out of the craft and on the glass dome. He looks down at the scenery below him before turning back and holding out his hand for me to take. With only a moment's hesitation I take his offered hand and gracefully hop down next to him.

It crosses my mind that I could have pretended to trip, leaving me free to press my body against his without needing any excuses, but I'm far too agile for a ruse of that kind. I couldn't trip and make it look like a mistake convincingly. My face flushes at the fact that despite knowing this I still wish I had tried anyway.

With my hand still grasped in his, Edge pulls me a little bit away from the airship easily, leaving plenty of room for the other two men and their Leapers to descend onto the dome.

When we're all standing on the roof one of the soldiers signals to the pilot who begins to ascend away from us as the other one opens up a holographic screen from his glove. He runs a finger over the image before shutting it down entirely with a soft click. A whirring sound comes from one of the glass panels near us as it slides back, giving us the space we need to drop down to the people below.

The soldiers quickly assemble a pair of grapples to the dome's roof and hook a clip onto the belt of my uniform before I even get the chance to react. After they secure the Leapers onto the grapple wire they both descend through the open panel and onto the ground a hundred metres or so below them without a word.

Edge tugs sharply on the hook around my belt, making sure it's firmly secure. "Wouldn't put it passed them," he says a little coldly before grabbing the rope and making his way towards the bottom. I peer down somewhat nervously at the three men from my position on the roof, grasping onto the hanging wire they were expecting me to climb down with.

I can't feel the steel through my glove but the energy the wire emits makes my hand tighten unconsciously around it. With a deep sigh I mimic the others lead and hop forward onto the grapple which effortlessly pulls my body down to the foot of the dome safely.

As I near the bottom Edge reaches out and hauls me gently off the steel cable, holding my shoulders firmly while I steady myself. When I'm balanced again I take a few seconds to look around at the part of the city we've landed in.

It's a circular arena, full of people of all ages shopping or having dinner at a nearby café. While some of them seem nervous at the sight of four Enforcers, and eight Leapers, none of them are panicking the way I thought they would at the idea of their district being flooded within the hour. They're simply walking around leisurely, taking in the the sights behind the windows of various stores.

"Look, mummy, look!" a child screams nearby, tugging at an older woman's hand while pointing in my direction. "It's that bad lady from the posters. What are those monsters with her?"

The woman takes a quick glance at me before pulling harshly on her child's arm, dragging her away from us. I roll my eyes at the scene as more and more civilians begin to murmur at my sudden appearance. Several of them begin to run away at the sight of the Leapers with us while others have taken out miniature camera drones to snap up the scene of the once famous Errorist now working for her enemy.

Just as I'm about to step forward to slap the drones away, the two nameless Enforcers begin walking towards the growing crowd, charging up their gloves in front of them in a threatening manner. The Leapers at their side grow impatient, thrashing their heads from side to side as the fearful citizens look on.

"All civilians are to leave this district under orders from Captain Trace, commander of S.A.B.R.E. Force!" one Enforcer yells to the unmoving crowd. "If you do not leave willingly then you will be removed by force. It is in your best interests and safety to comply."

The majority of the crowd immediately disperses in either fear or faux respect while a couple of the braver ones remain put.

"You can't treat us like this. We're not criminals!" A murmur of agreement starts to grow in the lingering few, who are nodding their heads and standing their ground firmly in front of us. A man steps forward from the crowd, pointing at the Enforcer while trying to maintain a brave face.

"Yeah! What gives you the right to order law-obeying citizens around and threaten our peace with those things? There's no martial law here."

"Leave these premises at once!" the soldier yells again, "Relocate to higher ground, or do you all want to die!" He flexes the leash on the Leapers who begin to thrash around more violently. The action causes the civilians to gasp and scatter, all bravado lost while they trip over themselves in an effort to exit the area. The only ones left are nearby shop and café workers who scramble about to pack up as quickly as possible, shooting fearful looks at us while they do so.

What sounded like an innocent attempt to get the people moving out of harm's way came out more like a dangerous threat, and the people of the district have obviously taken it as such.

"Ah, Saint-Michel," the soldier says, moving forward to circle the base of the rotunda after the last citizen has left, "where the people are snobbier and more stubborn than Madame."

He takes a seat on the edge of a fountain that's situated directly in the middle of the empty area and pulls the Leapers into place at his side. Perched on top of the fountain, made with brass and gold, sits an unpleasant statue of an angel with a raised sword about to destroy a cowering demon.

I lean forward, taking a seat on the opposite side to the man and run my hand through the water that's cascading out from the side of the demon and pooling around the bottom. The glove stops me from feeling the liquid but the motion of water rippling over my fingers calm me anyway. It makes me feel like I'm cleansing my hands from the figurative blood of Vaughn that's on them.

"Should we tie her to this ugly guy?" I hear the man ask. With a quick glance back up I see he's addressing Edge directly, pointing to the fountain I'm running my hand through. There's a few seconds of tense silence as Edge stares back at the man without answering.

My hand shoots out of the water, causing droplets to spray in all directions, and I shake them thoroughly in front of me. "No, no, there's no need for that. I don't even know where we are, I can't possibly run off, which is why I'm guessing Trace wants me tied up."

The two Enforcers study me with skeptical eyes. "Besides," I continue, "I'm wearing this uniform for a reason. I'm an Enforcer, too. I've proven myself loyal." I wince, hoping they haven't heard of my murder charge yet. Considering they were already at the landing dock when Vaughn's body was found there's a good chance I'm just a regular ex-prisoner to them. I can't recall Trace mentioning the murder to the large group of Enforcers when I was there, but then again, I wasn't really paying close attention to what he was saying; I was much more concerned with the accusation of murder that had just been laid out against me.

"It's true, man. Madame told us to treat her like an ally and one of us, and she has more authority than the commander," the other one says, looking me over head to toe. His eyes linger on the glove over my hand but makes no mention of it or seem to object to its presence.

"Should we confirm our orders with Captain Trace at least?" the other asks, pointing to a section on his gauntlet. With a quick nod of approval the soldier flicks up a panel which emits a loud static sound as it tries to connect to the captain's signal.

I shake my hands again and stand up, needing to let off a bit of the pent up energy circling my body. Another hand slides into mine and squeezes it in reassurance through the dense material.

Edge is standing right behind me, half of his chest pressing up against my shoulder blade, and his head bent low enough that I can feel his warm breath on the shell of my ear. Goosebumps form on the nape of my neck at the sensation and I tilt my head back slightly, leaning against his frame in what I would normally consider an intimate position.

"Shall I get rid of them?" he whispers against me as he lets go of my hand to shift his weight.

I shake my head fervently at the proposal. Now that I know Edge is capable of killing, despite his earlier insistence that our Errorist group weren't murderers, I don't want to take the chance on what his methods of 'getting rid' of someone might be. I might've engaged in the same violence before my memories were taken from me, but it doesn't make those actions right.

"Sir?" the first soldier speaks into his glove after the static disappears. "Captain? This is V-435, assigned to watch prisoner Nilin. Come in."

We wait in silence before Trace's voice comes up from the open panel; there's faint yelling in the background along with the sounds of glass breaking and gunshots. "All available units are to assemble at the Saint-Michel square immediately. Citizens are carrying unauthorised weaponry and are engaging in suspected Errorist activity. Repeat: all available units to assemble at the Saint-Michel square. Shoot to detain, not kill. Over."

My mouth falls open in surprise and the two Enforcers glance at each other, clearly shocked by the order from Trace. They don't seem concerned at all that he ignored their radio call as they turn back to me and Edge, who has moved from behind me to my side.

"Good thing we came out in droves, huh," V says as he splits two of his Leapers off and quickly hands them to Edge who takes them with extreme caution. Their leashes attach to electric cables joining at the wrist, and they immediately settle at his side as though they know who their new owner is. "Tie her up wherever if you think it's necessary. Keep an eye out for the Errorists, they might pass through here. We'll let you know if the extra help is needed."

With a nod of affirmation from Edge the two men scurry off up a nearby flight of stairs and out of sight. I look to Edge, who in turn is looking at his Leapers tied at his wrist, with curiosity. He's been parading around as an Enforcer for over half a day and not a single person has questioned it so far. In fact, none of the lowly soldiers I've talked to have been intimidating or soldier-like at all; they probably wouldn't recognise him even if he spoke directly to them.

I'm brought out of my thoughts as one of the Leapers spring in my direction, undisturbed by the electric, opaque chain around its neck. Edge yanks it, him, back so roughly that he collapses backwards onto his side, twitching frantically while clawing at his neck.

I sigh, resisting the urge to sit down next to him and stroke his bald scalp until he calms down. I'm still a little troubled at their fascination towards me so I prefer to keep my distance for the time being, but it doesn't make their suffering any easier to witness.

"Shh, easy there," I say to him, crouching down and reaching out but not moving any closer. He stops clawing at his neck and resumes staring at me from his spot on the ground.

"You don't need to be so harsh with them," I tell Edge as he brings the Leapers back in line. He presses a hand to the side of his helmet, releasing the shielding that covers his face and looks me over with a confused frown that makes those odd feelings flutter in my stomach again.

"I didn't say a word to them. I wasn't going to get rid of them by killing them if that's what you're thinking, Nil, just by overworking their Sensen."

I shake my head and motion towards the Leapers huddling obediently at Edge's side. The one that was pulled back is shivering, with his long, thin fingers raking over his blotchy skin as his eyes alternate between studying the floor and me. "No, not the Enforcers, I mean the Leapers."

Edge looks at me in surprise before looking back down to the chained beings. "They're not human anymore. I respect what you're trying to say but-" I cut him off quickly with a hand in the air as I get back onto my feet.

"Stop. I don't think you do," I reply, casting my eyes away from his stricken, confused face to take in my surroundings further. "All you've talked about is freeing people but you ignore the sufferings of people only centimetres from you and talk about disposing other like they're trash. Violence only brings about more violence, Edge, and you're a violent person by nature it seems."

He looks lost as he moves forward a little and hovers his free hand over one of my shoulders without ever touching it, though his twitching fingers seem like they desperately want to.

"I don't know what you want me to say. We've tried the peaceful, non-violent approach before, Nilin. It never works."

Turning back to face him I take hold of his hovering hand, mindful of the Leapers in the other, and envelope it in my own. "Maybe it does work; maybe it just needed more time."

Edge shakes his head though he makes no move to dislodge his trapped hand. "We've taken that route for years. Within a month of threats and force we've accomplished more than in two years of peaceful protests. If you had your memory you wouldn't argue with me on this."

"Well I don't have it. You said we weren't murderers, and while I trust you, I do, you're about to wipe out hundreds, maybe thousands, of people with this flood that can easily be avoided. You may not consider Leapers humans, but there's no way you can deny these people are humans. There are children here. We are about to become murderers of innocent children."

I sigh heavily, trying to reign in my emotions before they take over me. I use my spare hand, that's not holding tightly onto Edge, to run my fingers through my increasingly messy hair. "It's inhumane to flood them. I can't, we can't… you'd have to be a robot or machine to think the end justifies the means this way."

He pulls away slightly before entwining his fingers with mine, dragging them up to his lips in an action similar to the one I did for him in the aircraft. He kisses my gloved fingertips softly and I feel my heart beat frantically against my rib-cage and my breath catch in my throat. How does this man have such an effect on my body?

"That's the thing," he whispers against them, "there's not going to be any flood." My eyes widen in disbelief as his lips pull into a playful smile. I glance around to make sure no-one is about to overhear us – and thankfully the rotunda is still completely empty – before I lean in close.

"What do you mean there's not going to be a flood?" I whisper harshly, watching as his smile only grows.

'He's so handsome when he does that,' I think before I can stop myself. Pinching myself mentally I bring myself back to the much more important topic at hand.

"What was that about access codes and our Errorist brothers and sisters then? A lie?"

"Not a lie. I do have the ability to blow the dam." He kisses my fingers once more before letting them go to open his glove panel. Manoeuvring the Leapers aside he points to the holographic image that hovers above. It seems to be a blueprint of the Saint-Michel dam, circling the perimeter of La Bastille. "And initially it's what I was going to do. I'm tired of our people getting gunned down while we take the high road."

He tugs on the Leapers' leashes, watching as they scuttle around in discomfort. "Of these humans turning into these creatures. I was going to give Neo-Paris a spectacular show, an undeniable display of power, but watching you walk away with Madame after your nightmarish ordeal with Vaughn-" I clench my eyes shut briefly at the memory, "- well, it made me reconsider the options."

When he doesn't immediately continue I twirl my hand around impatiently, mimicking a motion I saw Madame use earlier. "And…?"

"And," he continues, "I realised a flooded district will only turn more against us. More arrests, more memory wipes and more La Bastille playthings available for their sick amusement. The people rely on Memorize and their Sensens because they're afraid of this new world. They want more memories of a happier time and if I began threatening the people rather than the problem then they'll only become more afraid of us; turning to the enemy to seek comfort and safety."

He points to a section of the holographic image that simply reads '19'. "There's a tunnel connected to the metro that passes through the dam and to the outskirts of the prison. If I feel the situation calls for it I can empty that section without the loss of any life."

Silence falls through the area when he finishes and closes the hologram. There's only the buzzing sound from a nearby billboard to fill in the gaps. I try to understand what this means for us: for Edge, myself and the Errorist movement but Edge continues before I have the chance to fully grasp the consequences.

"The real beauty of the whole thing though is that the Enforcers are taking themselves down without my help."

"What do you mean?" I question, my eyebrows furrowing together in confusion.

"I only broadcast my message to La Bastille." Edge's smile deepens into something dark and sinister. "Trained by Memorize to fight fire with fire they've only ever responded to our threats with extreme violence. It's what I've been counting on. A hundred armed soldiers are rounding up civilians, who don't know why, under the pretense of protection." He stops to motion around to the empty area and deserted cafés still full with half-eaten meals. "You saw how they reacted to the four of us, by the sounds of it they're reacting even more severely to Trace's group."

My jaw drops in astonishment at the news. From a strategic point the plan is utterly brilliant: separate the citizens from the Enforcers, have them think, now know, the police force can turn against the population in an instant. Civilians are being treated like criminals in their eyes for reasons they don't understand, and will never understand if there's no flood coming. To them it's simply a powerful police faction acting as they please against those that have done no wrong.

"But what about the Plati news group?" I ask, remembering Maggie the red-headed woman and her crew, who were still filming while Edge was talking about the dam's destruction. "They would still have footage of your speech, of why the Enforcers acted this way. The people will forgive them when they find out."

Edge seems a little insulted at my words. "I've already erased that data, none of it is left and Miss Belrose never went 'live'. It's all hearsay from now on and there will be a lot of witnesses to speak out against S.A.B.R.E. Force."

"But the reporter is probably a trust-worthy source for news."

Edge scoffs loudly. "She's a talk-show host at the very best; we can easily say she's been paid out by Memorize to speak against us."

I take a seat on the fountain side and start running my fingers through the water again, marvelling a little at the way Edge thinks. "So now we wait."

"We can," he starts as he looks me over seriously, "or I can. I wanted to give you a choice, not just make your decisions for you anymore, but please hear me out. I can get you out of Neo-Paris from here if you let me. There's a smaller group of ours at the next town over. It's Leaper free there; they never take more than they need so no-one is left wanting."

I should have known this would have come up, that he was thinking about getting me out of here when he had the chance; he's been so concerned for my safety that I might've even felt it strange if he didn't make me an offer like this. As soon as he says the words though I know there's no way I can run from my problems in this way.

I watch him carefully from my position under the brass statue. "You're allowing me to stay if that's what I want though? You won't chuck me over your shoulder and make off?"

He nods slightly, his eyes scanning the ground in front of him before casting them over the Leapers in his grip. "If you leave Neo-Paris I can't return your memories. You need to be physically in La Bastille when I release the memory servers. If you do leave, however, we can create a new life, free of the burdens of past war. We can start over when I finish here and hand the Errorist reigns to someone else. It can be just you and me in Neo-Versailles. Just the two of us."

'Just the two of us.' My heart leaps back into my throat and my stomach twitches again with the feelings of butterflies at his simple sentence. Memories of his earlier kiss flash in my mind, seducing me with images of what might be the future for us if I chose to leave now.

But as tempting as a quiet life with Edge and others sound I know it will never be enough. I could never be satisfied starting a new life without my memories of the past, even if it was with him.

"I want to stay," I tell him finally, steeling myself with resolve as I wait anxiously for his response. "If all goes well here maybe we can still start over in Neo-Versailles in the future anyway."

His shoulders slump and he faintly shakes his head in disappointment. Obviously he was hoping I would take the route out of the city today, but I can also see relief in his face that he's desperately trying to hide. Perhaps it was relief that sooner or later I was going to get my memories back. "It will be dangerous."

"I know, but you need me," I tell him for the second time today. "And I need my memories returned."

He nods again sharply, his eyes glistening with unshed tears before turning to the Leapers who keep slowly making their way over to me inch by inch. From this position they don't seem threatening in the slightest, but rather like human pets who have been abused their entire lives.

I stop running my fingers through the water as silence descends on us again. Trying to change the subject off me, off Edge and his wet eyes, and off my enticing thoughts of the future, I motion up to the buzzing billboard that captures my attention. On it, in a fancy suit made of white and gold material, is a vaguely familiar face of a man. He's surrounded by floating words that read 'Memorize' and 'H3O'.

"Who is that?" I ask, pointing up to the only screen still running in the empty rotunda, one storey higher than us. Edge follows my finger, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the picture.

"Ah. That would be the heir and current owner of the Memorize Corporation, well, joint owner along with his estranged wife Scylla. He's the largest part of the root to all our problems and unfortunately he's also untouchable."

I look back to the man on the screen, taking in his face shape and eyes more carefully. "What's his name? I feel like I know him."

"His name is Charles," he answers, looking back to the screen as well. "Charles Cartier-Wells."

I gasp at his words, all thoughts about Neo-Versailles gone as I take in Edge's frowning face with wide eyes. In a moment of vulnerability, only hours ago, he had confided in me that his own last name was Cartier-Wells. It may just be coincidence that the man on the screen has the same last name as him but all my instincts are telling me they're connected somehow. "Your father?"

A deep, hollow laugh devoid of any amusement breaks out of Edge before he can contain it. "Definitely not."

"He didn't adopt you?" I press on, watching as his mouth pulls into a straight line.

"No. We share a single common interest, but that's as far as our connection goes."

I pout and cross my arms, feeling very much like Edge is just playing a game with me because I don't have the memories to connect anything together. "You're being annoyingly cryptic, Edge."

"And you're," he walks forward and bends down to tap me on the nose, "being adorably inquisitive, Nilin."

From my position on the lip of the fountain and with his tall stature my eye level sits directly in line with his pelvis. Even through the heavy Enforcer material I can see the definition of his muscular thighs and I feel my face heat up in response.

"You know I need to be inquisitive if I'm going to learn anything about my past."

He takes a seat next to me and pulls me into a sideways hug with his free hand. "I know. You'll understand everything soon enough and there won't be any more secrets."

I nod into his chest, breathing in his musky scent which serves to relax me. Dimly I wonder how he's going to clean himself while he's in La Bastille - not that I mind his natural musk - or how I am for that matter. Just the thought of being naked and vulnerable in a room after Vaughn's attack… I shiver uncontrollably, and tilt my face further into Edge's breastplate. The blood from the former B-178 had been wiped completely from it at some point during his stay.

"Hey," Edge says, tipping my chin up to meet him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I whisper with a nod, "just thinking about Vaughn." I'm thinking about the attack; his leering face, how his hair matted with sweat as he groped me and how his voice was raspy with lust. My lunch heaves violently in my stomach, a sensation so similar and yet so vastly different to the butterflies that were there only minutes ago.

Edge hugs me tighter into his side, trying to cup the back of my head as well in a comforting gesture. The teasing, playful mood from a second ago has been completely destroyed and I instantly regret bring Vaughn up at all.

"I'm so sorry, Nilin. I'm sorry for what you went through. I'm sorry for what you saw."

His voice is full of sympathy instead of pity, of compassion instead of anger, and it comforts me more than any vow of revenge he's declared. I want to tell him about how hopeless I felt, how scared I was and a large, selfish part of me wants him to take it all away. I want to just give up responsibilities of my feelings, my fears, and have Edge stroke my hair and tell me everything will be all right in the future. That there are no more enemies after me.

But I'm a grown woman and the best fighter he's ever seen, apparently. The best fighter Madame and the others have seen if my performance in the training rooms was any indication. I need to learn to fully stand on my own two feet again and not burden him with my troubles – though I suspect he would be more than willing to help ease them. It's time for me to be an Errorist.

"Thanks," I settle with, pulling away from his warm chest to stare up at him. His facial hair is almost calling out to me so I stretch up and stroke the underside of his jaw, taking a second to remove my glove so I can feel his coarse hair under my fingertips. If he was surprised with my actions he doesn't show it.

"You suit the scruff," I tell him honestly. It really did give his face more distinct character, especially considering he barely had any scars or wounds for a wanted Errorist. The faint one along the bridge of his nose would hardly be considered a battle-scar after all.

He gently takes my hand from under his chin and places it back onto my lap. An immature feeling of rejection wells up inside me from his actions before I can stop it, causing me to turn away from him entirely and put the glove back on. I hear him sigh and feel his lips press down on the top of my hair, mumbling my name into the locks that I sincerely hope didn't smell.

"Thank you," he tells me, his voice being muffled slightly with my hair, "each compliment from you is a treasure on its own. I'm guessing it was mostly to steer the conversation away from him, which is completely understandable, but I want you to know if you ever need to talk I'm always here. Even if it's not about him and is about anything else that's on your mind, I'll always be here for you. I'd love to know what's going on in your head."

I turn back to him at his words, taking in the longing in his face and his desperately sad eyes. There's no doubt that he was sincere in wanting to know what's going on in my head, or wanting to help me by just listening.

Reaching out again I take his face ever so gently into my hands and look intently into his eyes. They widen in surprise but he doesn't protest my movements or shrug me off. "Thank you," I breathe out, mimicking him. He shuts his eyes when I lean further into him and I realise I'm so close I could easily kiss his full, half-parted lips from here.

It's the perfect moment for it too but I panic, tapping him lightly on the nose in a playful gesture instead. His eyes fly open in confusion as a small smile crosses my face. "You're adorably inquisitive, though."

He looks confused for a second before he bursts out with genuine laughter so contagious that I join in not a second later. He stands, pulling me up beside him and into his side away from the Leapers.

"I can't help it when it comes to you," he says, taking a moment to enclose his helmet. "Should we go make sure the citizens aren't getting too manhandled? We don't want them hurt after all."

While I'm concerned about the people of Saint-Michel I'm much more interested in being here with Edge, and I know there's nothing we can do to help anybody out there anyway without compromising our positions on the Force. With a shake of my head I reach up and tap the button on the side of his helmet, revealing his face again.

"No, we'll only make things worse, I think."

He nods silently in agreement before making his way over to the deserted café and takes a seat at one of the tables. He motions for me to come over to him while he arranges the plates of half-eaten food and drinks in an orderly fashion.

"In that case, we still have about twenty-five minutes before the hour is up," he says, tethering the two Leapers to a nearby pole before holding out the café chair for me to sit down, "which means we have probably fifteen minutes before we're picked up. I thought it would be nice to have a date while we were here."

'A date?'

I take the seat offered to me and Edge takes the opposite one, so we're facing each other over a table of someone else's half-eaten Neo-Paris cuisine. The Leapers are quietly observing us, not at all bothered by their setup away from us; they don't even make a move.

Edge takes the abandoned fork from the plate and begins twirling what looks to be a form of artificially grown beef around with it.

"You're not really going to eat that, are you?" I ask, watching him pick at the food with the utensil. "I saw you sitting with the others in the mess hall, didn't you have lunch?"

He continues to swirl the meat around with a slight smile playing on his lips. "No, I'm not going to eat it. It's a shame it's going to go to waste; there's hardly any resources left to squander away, but I just enjoy pretending to be having a dinner with you in the late sunset."

"Oh."

An awkward silence befalls us while we sit at the café. I look down at my own plate, not at all tempted by the remains of the meal left. "Shouldn't we be talking about something a little more serious considering we only have several minutes left of privacy?"

Edge looks up from his dish and his easy smile disappears. "More serious? I can't think of anything more serious than enjoying the remaining moments with you."

My stomach ties itself into knots. "Now that I know what you're doing here I need to know about the future plans."

"The less you know about my plans the better. For the moment, at least. If they ever figure out how to remix memories then we're screwed."

"The skill that changes what a person thinks they remember," I say, remembering what Edge had said to me about remixing Vaughn's memories.

"Yeah," he nods, "it's possibly the most powerful technique to know. Luckily it's only us that know how to do it, but who knows if they'll ever catch on." He takes a moment to pretend to eat. "Mm, this is exquisite. You should try some."

He lifts his fork in my direction as though offering me real food and I simply look down at it with a slight frown. "You're acting like a child," I tell him, though not harshly. It was just confusing that a man of his intelligence and capabilities, who could turn my stomach into a figurative garden of winged insects, would do something so childish.

He looks dejected and places his fork back down on the plate.

"Sorry. We used to have dinner like this a lot," he says, pushing his chair back to stand, "Not anywhere this public, of course, but still something like this. I thought it might've been nice to try and give you a pleasant memory to hold on to before we went back to the prison. I know there's nothing pleasant in La Bastille."

'Oh.' It astonishes me that this man, who has literally murdered for me, is also possibly the kindest man I will ever meet. I stand as well, feeling exceptionally bad for the way I just handled our one-minute 'date'.

"Wait," I say as Edge goes over to pick up the Leapers, "I didn't say I didn't like it."

He looks back at me and I shrug my shoulders to try to convey what I meant. Childishness isn't always a terrible thing, I suppose; especially not in a world so bleak and depressing. He walks over to me and holds out his hand with a mock bow.

"Well, in that case, may this man-child have this dance?"

Of course there's no music playing but when I place my hand into his, with only a sliver of hesitancy, it really didn't matter in the slightest. He lifts me from my seat and our bodies entwine naturally, his hand on my hip and mine on his shoulder with our other one stretched to our side. I press my body up against his and he twirls me around in a circle.

Releasing a carefree laugh I clutch onto his shoulder a little harder as he picks up the pace, leading me into a dance full of twirls, bends, spins and dips. I'm not sure if I would be considered a great dancer normally, but we work together so well it flows into place perfectly.

The Leapers watch enthralled from their pole as we expertly glide through tables and potted plants, gracefully avoiding the obstacles. He guides me around the fountain and I can't stop laughing all the while; it feels so good, pressed up against Edge, dancing around an angel statue without any cares.

My stomach doesn't have butterflies surprisingly, it's deliciously light and warm instead. There's no anxiety or nervousness between us, and I know that some time in my past life we had done this before; probably many times. My head feels light as well, not just my thoughts – which I would consider more calm than light – but my brain itself.

A very faint static builds in my head but I put it down to the numerous spins Edge manoeuvre me into.

I'm almost out of breath by the time we finish, with Edge dipping me low, arching my back into an elegant bend. He leans down and kisses the crown of my head before I even realise it.

"You are a wonderful dance partner," he murmurs into hair, before tipping me right side up with a flourish.

I smile up at him so widely that the sides of my cheeks begin to hurt. Tilting the side of my face against his hands that are placed on my shoulders I say back, "you too."

We stay like this for a few seconds, neither of us wanting to look away first but the buzzing is still echoing in my skull, forcing me to clench my eyes together and shake my head. It builds in volume until I can audibly hear it within my skull.

"How's he doing it, Nilin?" a voice suddenly whispers in my ear, breaking through the static.

I gasp sharply, clasping a hand firmly against the side of my head and jerking it back to look to Edge in absolute shock. He's staring right back at me, confusion etched on his face from my actions as he studies my movements, his now outstretched hands still resting on my shoulders.

"Madame," I breathe softly to the voice but not breaking eye contact with Edge. His mouth drops and his eyes widen before narrowing with undisguised anger. I try to take a step backwards but he puts more strength on my shoulders, halting me completely and attempts to take my hand that's clutching over my ear. Grabbing his hand with my free one I push him aside and away from me.

He begins to pace a few feet in front of me, like a lion forced into a cage, mumbling incoherently to himself but keeping an eye on me all the while.

"How's he doing it?" Madame repeats, quiet fury softening her usually severe voice. It was much worse than if she was simply yelling. "How did Edge manage to worm his way into my prison?"

"I don't know what you mean," I whisper back, trying to inject some semblance of honesty into my tone. My heart is beating so fast that I feel like my ribcage is about to break from the repeated force, causing my breath to shorten into sharp puffs.

"Who's Edge?"

There's a few seconds of complete silence before the sounds of Madame's harsh breathing echo out in my ear. "You lie to me again, my dear, and I'll cut that wriggling tongue out from your mouth."

I drop my hand from my ear, cutting the oral connection to my Sensen but still allowing me to hear her. Edge stops his pacing and makes his way back to me, towering over my form from his impressive height.

"Madame is talking to you through your Sensen?"

I nod, unable to shake the feeling of nausea in my stomach. Things would be so much simpler if Edge and I could just barge into La Bastille and take them all out with our innate knowledge of fighting. Even though I hate relying on anyone other than myself for help I hate this feeling of helplessness even more.

"She knows you were at the prison, Edge. She doesn't know how you did it, but she knows you were there. You can't go back."

He doesn't look disturbed at the news, only annoyed and angry. "What's she saying to you?"

"She's asking if I know—"

"You're not trying to run are you, Nilin?" Madame's voice cuts me off, making me fumble on my words. "Because your tracker is telling me you're still in Saint-Michel and I would hate to have to chase you down over the city simply to have you returned to me."

I quickly place my hand against my ear, re-creating my link with Madame while Edge encloses his helmet again, not taking any chances on what might be coming for us.

"I'm not trying to run, Madame. I have nowhere to run to," I tell her, feeling like I'm repeating myself a lot today. I hear her groan on the other side, seemingly unimpressed or disbelieving of my words.

"Return to La Bastille. I will talk to you further then." And with that silence mercifully falls in my ears.

As soon as I drop my hand from the side of my head Edge grabs it and begins making his way around the fountain towards an exit. "She suspects you helped me break in, doesn't she? Bad Request normally hides in the shelters of Saint-Michel's underground, he'll provide you safe passage into Neo-Versailles. We need to go with Plan B."

I wrench my hand from his firm grip, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm going back to La Bastille. She doesn't think I've helped you, and I still have my tracker in me; she specifically mentioned it. If I tried to run now Bad and I will just get caught, and we'll be in for a lot worse than Enforcer duties."

"Then what do we do?" he whispers, desperation heavy in his voice. It's probably one of the few times he's never had a plan of action to resolve a problem.

"You need to trust me. I'm good at pretending, Madame won't be a problem and if she is can't I just remix her memories?" I say, holding up the glove over my hand. Edge shakes his head at the sight of it though.

"No, your glove is an Enforcer one, mine is a Hunter's glove – they're different. But I think you may be right, you've done nothing wrong. Tell Madame I've been communicating with you via your Sensen if you must, you can't be at fault for that, but leave out the details if you can. Vagueness is key here."

He opens his Hunter's glove up, the holographic image of the tunnels and dam appearing instantly above it again. "I think the situation calls for an emergency passage though," he says, before jerking his finger over the image in quick motions. The image changes from a blueprint of the dam to flashing words that simply read, 'Sector 19 disengaged'.

'He's releasing the dam that's connected through the metro,' I think, watching as he closes the panel again. It's a good thing he did it when he did because not ten seconds later the two Enforcers we came here with earlier rush back into the rotunda.

Their uniforms are speckled with fresh blood and their helmets have been smashed in, concaving into shards of glass and plastic. "You two! Come on, we're taking off in another craft," one says, gesturing with their hands for us to hurry to them.

I run over to the Leapers to untie them from the poles near the café but one Enforcer yells out before I reach them. "No, just leave them. There's no room and someone else will pick them up if they don't drown. Let's go!"

Edge and I race passed the two men and up the steps they're standing on, into a new area filled with artificial plant life and more buzzing billboards dedicated to Memorize. The aircraft sits in wait for us in the open night air and the four of us quickly pile in before it takes off. There's no-one else in here besides the pilot, but there's also no cages for the Leapers to fit into.

I'm panting for breath by the time I buckle up and turn to the Enforcer known as 'V'. "Why didn't you just contact us with that thing," I ask, pointing to his glove.

"Broken."

"Ah, one of the citizens broke it?" Just how much damage did these citizens do to the soldiers?

He nods, twisting his wrist around to show the full extent of the destruction done on the machine. "Yeah, either a citizen or an Errorist, we couldn't tell the difference at that point. Trace was about to come get you to show the Errorists you were on our side, calm things down a little, but we had to leave by then. We weren't going to risk getting washed away with the rest of Saint-Michel."

"So this main Errorist man is really going to destroy the district?" I ask, feigning ignorance about the situation. I know now he's not planning on doing that, but getting an idea into how the other men think could prove to be valuable. Edge shifts uncomfortably in his seat, obviously he doesn't like being discussed in this manner or maybe he doesn't like me talking to the Enforcer at all.

"Yep, I don't think we've ever heard a threat from that guy without it being followed through," V answers, taking off his broken helmet and chucking it to the side. "You were the same."

"I made threats as well?"

"Your threats were less… ah, threatening than his, but yes you were a menace as well. Your main spiel usually focused on agriculture and our artificial farming plants but on occasion the two of you would team up and pull stunts like tonight."

I shake my head at him, knowing what he's saying isn't one-hundred percent factual. "I wouldn't target civilians like this. I just know I wouldn't."

"We made almost twenty arrests of suspected Errorists in the last hour, miss," the other Enforcer speaks up, "and three had to be shot for carrying concealed weapons. I don't think he's targeting civilians, I think they were targeting us and they knew we were coming."

"How do you know they were Errorists?" I shoot back, disgust bubbling in my stomach at the knowledge that three people have been killed tonight. They may have been Errorists – I'm not sure how many Errorists we have altogether – but I strongly suspect they were simply Saint-Michel civilians. I couldn't blame Edge for these deaths though, and he was right, S.A.B.R.E. Force is taking themselves down.

"Only Errorists blatantly carry weapons in the streets and disobey orders from us. They were unconcerned about the flood which would suggest they knew it was coming – it's most likely they were in cohorts with Edge."

I turn away from them with a curt nod, unable and unwilling to listen to what they have to say anymore. Everything's already set into motion and like Edge said, the less I know the better.

It takes just under five minutes for the airship to reach the perimeters of La Bastille again, taking the painfully long process of lining up into an empty space before descending. From my position next to the window I can see all the other air-machines have already arrived back.

I'm the first one off the craft as soon as it lands on the ground. It's a little too dark to see properly out here at night, as it's not lit up very well, but I can see the blurry outline of Madame waiting near the door to the prison, along with fifty or so soldiers clustered around one of the aircrafts with Captain Trace at the front of them. I begin to walk over to the group of soldiers, wanting to know the run-down of what exactly happened tonight.

"And it should go without saying that not a single one of you will answer any questions posed by journalists or reporters without express permission from either myself or Madame Voorhees," Trace yells to the group.

I'm a few metres away, pondering whether I should stay here where I'm out of the way, hover around the back of the crowd or merely wait for Edge to emerge out of the aircraft. While I can somewhat hear the captain's commands from my position I decide to continue forward so that I can blend into the throng of soldiers and hear everything clearer. Plus, I couldn't risk Edge's cover by remaining at his side the whole time - especially if I get signalled out by someone, as they usually like to do.

"You!" A woman yells out, stopping me in my tracks before I make it to the rest of the group. I turn my head in her direction, confused to see she's pointing her finger at me directly and storming over to where I'm standing. The other two Enforcers and Edge scramble out of the aircraft at the same time, moving around us and towards the other soldiers without a word or backwards glance.

"I need to talk to you, Errorist," the woman spits out when she's close enough. Her face is a furious shade of red, which makes her short blonde hair look almost white in comparison. The fur-collared jacket she's wearing suggests that she might be someone of either great importance or wealth, though the fur would have to undoubtedly be fake as I've seen no animals with such a coat or any animal at all now that I think about it.

"Olga," Madame calls out in a drawl while making her way over to us, her polished cane clicking on the concrete loudly. "There will be time for that in the morning. Can't you see Nilin is tired?"

"I don't have time to wait until the morning!" the woman – Olga – shouts back at Madame with disrespect and fury, "David doesn't have that kind of time left. I need to speak with her now!"

"No. You have what you came here for, come back in the morning if you need something further."

"At least let me speak with Quaid. He left David's treatment at the Nymphéa to a bunch of imbeciles who don't know what they're doing and yet are expecting me to pay a King's fee."

"I said you may come back in the morning if you need to speak with any of our staff. In case you haven't noticed we're in the midst of a terrorist attack," Madame says with an air of finality, shutting down the other woman's tirade who grits her teeth in Madame's direction.

"I'll be back at six a.m. on the dot," Olga replies, narrowing her eyes at me, "so make sure she's ready to answer my questions by then."

Madame leans on her cane to stare at us both with haughty superiority. "My Enforcers eat breakfast at six-thirty. If you'd like to make an appointment with our newest recruit I'll schedule it in for seven."

With a huff of exasperation Olga storms off towards a nearby air vessel while Madame gestures for me to walk forward with her to La Bastille's entrance. I glance around quickly for Edge, but when I can't see him I follow her lead back into the prison. Not that seeing Edge would be able to do anything for me now.

"This way, Nilin," she says, leading me through a series of corridors and rooms I've never ventured into before. My mind is telling me with a bout of paranoia that she's leading me to the torture rooms, or the interrogation rooms, more likely. I'm sure there are rooms in this prison designed specifically for pain in all forms she could be taking me to.

She'll want to interrogate me about Edge and my heart picks up at the thought of the agony I went through while having my memories removed. If they could put me in such torment without really intending it then I definitely do not want to know what pain is like when they do mean for it to be painful, and I'm fairly sure all interrogations entail pain.

But surprisingly Madame instead leads me up to the first floor of the prison and through a door labelled 'Astrid Voorhees' Suite'.

'And what a suite it is,' I think when I enter, taking in the fine furnishings of the room: the bedding covered in fine silks, the heavy velvet drapes over the clear windows that hold a remarkable view, the expensive robots tending to the cleaning and the various holograms scattered throughout it. It was a room fit for a queen – or a governor. But why would she be letting me in here, surely she wouldn't want to interrogate me in her own private quarters? It would be a shame to sully the plush, cream carpet with my own blood.

"As La Bastille's governor, I must be available at all times. Which is why I've had these rooms created," Madame says, gesturing around the room and the doorways connected to it. "The guest chamber is where you will be staying."

I jerk back in surprise, glancing around quickly at the interior of the suite and sure enough there's a door marked 'Guest' on it. "Where I will be staying? But what about my cell?"

'This makes no sense, she must already be starting her interrogations with either a technique of mental torture, or by letting myself become attached, even comforted by her to secure my loyalty and willingly spill my secrets.'

She takes my arm and walks me through the guest doorway, into another extravagant room complete with bedding and a small bathroom. "I've always admired your abilities as an Errorist, Nilin. I'll admit your ingenuity has cost us on more than one occasion, but I've never hated you. If only you adored me the way you adored Edge."

She sounds crazy; she wants me to adore her? And for what, taking away my memories and identity, leaving me a shell of my former self? Loyalty is one thing, and that's something I can understand from, as Edge described her: "a crazy, power-hungry bitch", but adoration is on a whole other level.

She runs her hand down my arm almost sensually, and takes a hold of my gloved hand. With a slight tut of indifference she removes the item, leaving my bare skin exposed to the chilly air. Holding my hand up high by my wrist Madame seems to study it for the briefest of seconds before striking forward with it, using my own palm to forcefully slap her cheek and leaving it reeling to the side.

"What the hell!" I exclaim, pulling my hand back from her iron grip. Her cheek is already colouring a violent shade of red from my enforced attack against her when I take a step back.

I feel the slightest sense of déjà vu hit me before the feeling of my Sensen charging up with flames on my neck consumes me. It's happening again, my body twitches uncontrollably before collapsing to the ground in waves of convulsing shocks. The feeling of fire dies after a second as do the involuntary twitches, but once again I'm lying on the ground unable to move.

'Not again. Not again!' I scream internally, unable to communicate at all to Madame who merely watches me from above, leaning against her cane with an air of calm despite her tousled hair and marred cheek.

She motions for a nearby drone to come over. "Pick her up and place her face up on the bed."

I'm not worried about a sexual assault from Madame but I still want to thrash and kick when I feel my body being picked up by a cold, steel form and transported to the bed close by. I'm dropped unceremoniously onto it and my body bounces lightly against the springs before settling back down into an immobile state. I can't stand feeling this helpless and now there's definitely no Edge to help me out of this mess.

"Well, at least we can rule out Vaughn's murder," Madame starts with a smile, opening a drawer on the bedside table next to me. She pulls out the tiniest of syringes that holds no liquid but still makes me squirm violently inside.

'She's just like Quaid.'

"Which I'm grateful for; you're already at twelve percent for reconversion via one of our dead soldier's memories and Sebastian has been constantly hounding me for a chance to make it higher. He was practically jumping when I mentioned you might have murdered our dear sergeant," she says, uncapping the tip of the empty syringe. "I, however, never particularly liked the man they used for your treatment. He was too insolent to me during his time here, and favoured that drunkard Forlan over his own governor."

Madame must notice the nervousness and discomfort on my face for she tries to soothe me with quiet 'sh' sounds as she lifts the back of my head. Taking the empty syringe towards the area my Sensen is located I feel a slight jolt come from it before she relaxes my head back down onto the pillow.

"Don't worry, I just needed a sample from you to synthesize the correct component later. I don't want to permanently ruin your mind just so that you can adore me, after all. What would be the point?"

'Insane. She's insane. Think about something else, Nilin; anything else but her.'

My mind wanders from Madame, trying to instead focus on the one-minute date I had with Edge over used Persian foods, and our music-less dance that, for a short time, made me forget all my worries and problems. I'm trying to recall the feeling of his hair under my fingers and the way one of the corners of his mouth crooks up into a smile before the other does. He wanted to give me a pleasant memory to hold onto while I was here and just remembering how much he cared makes me feel like I can take on anything Madame or her cronies throw at me.

"Now, my darling, you must be exhausted," Madame says, getting up to make her way back to the door to her main suite. "We'll talk about Edge, your role as a female Enforcer, and my new bodyguard in the morning."

She shuts off the light to the room, cloaking me in darkness with only the sounds of the nearby cleaning drone to keep me company.

I wouldn't have thought it could be possible, but I don't even last until the short-circuiting of my Sensen wears off before I fall into a deep, much needed sleep where I dream of Edge and his promise for a new life in Neo-Versailles.

Thanks for reading, favouriting or following. An especially big thanks to the reviewers – I love each and every one of them, small or big, harsh or nice (luckily I haven't gotten any harsh ones yet!), so thank you.

Can you guys guess where I'm heading with Olga's storyline? She's not going to get remixed; while remixing is fun I find it a little too convenient in terms of plot and story telling, but still I can't wait to get into it.

This may go on a short hiatus though, so I guess it will have to wait. Happy 2014, hope everyone has a great year!