Saving: Protecting: One Direction *UNDER MASSIVE EDITING*

NINE

NINE

JACK

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing on any one of the names I had been given. Not only did I do background checks on the lists of people that the boys gave me, but also anyone associated with them in the most minor way. If they had sneezed within ten feet of the boys, I knew about them. No one sketchy had ever come up in their lives. Frustrated, I slammed my laptop shut and pushed it to the side of the staffroom table. Yanking my hand through my hair, I started flipping through one of the many folders I had scattered around me.

While the boys were off down the hall, recording their next album, I sat in the large staffroom alone. Still keeping up with the façade that I didn't know the boys by any means, I was simply pretending to be an extra security agent doing routine background checks on employees, if anyone to ask. Of course, I hadn't seen anyone in the seven hours I'd been locked away in this room, so I didn't really have the chance to test out the lie.

A migraine was forming behind my eyes, my mind buzzing with the useless information I had captured over the last few hours. Sighing, I closed the folder and vigorously rubbed at my tired eyes before staring blankly around at the room. I was no closer to catching this person than the Leafs were to winning the Stanley Cup. I started packing up the papers scattered around the room, placing them evenly into the boxes beside my chair. With everything packed away, I stood back for a moment, chewing on my lower lip, staring at the two folders I had purposely left out, debating...

Knowing I wouldn't be able to resist, I grabbed the papers, and quickly walked out of the room. Maybe I could find a quiet but not deserted little room with a comfortable couch to curl up and read through the cases. While technically I wasn't supposed to be working on anything other than the case involving the boys, my team had sent me the details for the new case they had started. I couldn't help but want to get my hands on whatever they were currently working on.

I wandered the packed halls for a while, passing happy people seeming to not have care in the world. How I envied them.

There was a small kitchen I walked by, with two walls entirely made of glass, and a large plush couch. Feeling the first smile in days touch my lips, I all but ran to the couch. Flopping down onto it in the most ungraceful way possibly, I tucked my legs underneath me Indian style, and opened the folder. I sorted my way through various crime scene pictures, eagerly reading the notes written by my team and police officers. Not even realizing I was doing it, I started writing down the profile on the back of the folder.

I was so engrossed in my work that I didn't notice the way the seat beside me dipped down, or the person peering over my shoulder. "Is that a dead body?" Being an FBI agent, there was almost nothing that could sneak up on me. But the voice that had spoke had me jumping out of my skin, hand grabbing for my gun. Head snapping around so fast that I gave myself whiplash, I saw none other than the infamous Ed Sheeran sitting beside me, looking rather alarmed.

I sat back in my chair, running a shaky hand through my hair, heart beating even harder than before. Thank the Lord I hadn't actually managed to take out my gun. Shooting one of the only modern singers I actually liked would've put a real dampener on the day. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Ed said at once. I tried to smile, to say something back, to so something but ti was like my brain had been reduced to a pile of dust.

"I-it's...you-you're f-fine," I stuttered, surprised at the stutter that was coming from my mouth. I had never stuttered a day in my life. Sitting straighter, I cleared my throat, and prayed to God that Ed hadn't noticed the blush in my cheeks. "Can I help you with something?" I asked, professional manner back in place. Ed's eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "Help me?"

Shit. I screwed up. Of course, he wouldn't know that I'm an FBI agent, would be totally bewildered as to why an eighteen-year-old girl was talking to him as though she were superior.

But luckily, I was a very good liar.

Eyebrows pushed towards each other, mouth open in a slight 'o', I arranged my face in one of shock. "Isn't that why you tapped me on the shoulder? You need help finding a recording room, right?" Standing up, I took what would look like a conflicted step forward, pulled the corners of my lips down in a slight frown. "I mean, I'm only an intern, so I don't really know exactly where all the rooms are, but I could probably figure it out."

"Oh, no, I'm not here for recording...well recording one of my songs, anyway. One Direction are recording a song I wrote for them, they asked me to be here for it," He gave me a calming smile. "I was just coming down here for a cuppa, and then I saw you looking at pictures of dead bodies..." He gave me a quizzical, but not rude, look.

I let out a convincing laugh, sitting down next to him and making sure to keep myself looking relaxed. "I'm in college; those are just some old assignments I was looking through. I'm studying to go into crime, you see. It can't do any damage to look over old papers, right?" I smiled. He nodded, and we fell into a silence for a moment. Pretending to be looking out the windows, I turned my head to let out a tiny sigh of relief. At least it seemed that he swallowed my fib...

"You're a very convincing liar, Agent Warner."

...or not.

For the second time in a few minutes, my head snapped back around to look at him. "You know?" I asked, dropping all pretenses in the same way that I dropped my voice. He gave a single nod while his eyes raked over my face. Slowly, I got up and went to the door, shutting it gently and turning the lock. Ed watched on with an expression of interest. "Who told you?" I asked him seriously, swiftly turning a chair to face him and sitting down on it. My fake calm was gone as I sat on the edge of my seat, knees so close to Ed's that they were almost touching.

"The lads and Simon decided it would be best if I knew. Said you mentioned something about who they were always hanging around with?" Mentally, I screamed. Physically, I rubbed my hands up and down my face a few times. "With all due respect, Agent, it doesn't take a profiler to see you're frustrated by this," Ed said, in a kindly sort of manner. I took my hands away from my cheeks and offered him a dry smile. "No one can know about me, Ed. You understand that, don't you?"

His beautiful blue eyes became serious, and he subconsciously shifted back from me a bit. I stared him straight in the eyes, needing him to know just how serious this was. "This isn't just about the boys anymore. Just by knowing who I am puts you in a serious amount of danger. If the stalker finds out who I am, and what I'm doing, and that you know me, you'll be the next target. Being affiliated with the boys the way you are only deepens the risk. You need to act like you don't know I exist."

For a long moment, he said nothing, just absently stroked at the ginger stubble on his chin. "How old are you, Agent Warner?" I kept my face blank, but felt a jolt of surprise at the out-of-the-blue question. "Eighteen," My answer was as emotionless as my face. Ed's face sort of...crumpled. Before I knew it, his arms were around me, pulling me into him. For one wild second, I thought he was trying to strangle me. But then I realized, he was giving me a hug.

Awkwardly, I put my arms around him, barely touching him. When was the last time I had a hug? Honestly, I couldn't even remember. He pulled away after awhile, staring at me with the same crumpled look. Where was this sudden bout of pity from? Why did it come? He sighed, "You're too young to deal with this." Surprise flickered across my face. "Not really," I told him, leaning away from his intense contact. "I've been dealing with this sort of thing for a very long time."

Those sea blue eyes locked with mine, holding a thousand emotions that were all too easy for me to decipher. "I should get back, but it was very nice to meet you, Jack." Ed Sheeran finally murmured, smiling kindly before standing up. I got up with him-more out of habit than anything-and walked him to the door. "I'll be seeing you, secretly, around then," He smirked, and the corner of my lips turned upwards slightly at his cheek.

He turned away, hand turning the doorknob, and I found myself in mental turmoil over whether or not I was really going to ask him this. But as I watched one of my role models start to walk out of the room away from, knowing there was a chance I would never see him again, I couldn't stop myself. "Wait," I all but shouted. He turned around quickly, startled. My cheeks turned scarlet as I offered him an embarrassed smile. "Could I have your autograph?"