The Investigator and the Assasin

(23) The London Bridge is falling down

George raised an eyebrow, confused did he then remove whatever was in the pocket.

A piece of paper.

He didn't understand why he felt compelled to unwrinkle it; a receipt is what it could've been.

He rolled his eyes and stared at the crumpled-up paper in his hand.

Alyssa was throwing books at Darryl while Clay built up a fort for the both of them, continuously handing her more 'ammo' which was simply: books.

Cameron was a few steps away from him; opening filing cabinets and reading files she'd come across.

He unwrinkled it and felt his heart drop.

His stomach twisted up uncomfortably and he felt nauseated. His hands began shaking with cold sweat as he felt no control over the gasp that escaped his throat.

George re-read the paper as though it would make a difference, he pinched himself and tried to prove that his eyes were deceiving him.

Cameron was at his side in an instant.

"George?"

He heard Darryl's soft voice call for him across the room as Alyssa walked next to him and fanned him with a manilla file.

Clay was confused, walking over to the other with furrowed eyebrows.

"George, are you okay?-"

He was cut off by a heart-wrenching sob that comes from the other as he dropped the paper on the floor and buried his face in his hands.

Darryl and Alyssa both brought him into a tight hug, one that was well needed in all honesty.

Cameron didn't say a word as she kneeled to pick up the sheet he had dropped.

Her hand immediately flew up to her mouth as she pulled Alyssa out of the hug so she could see the paper.

George stood with Darryl tightly embracing him as the hoodie he was wearing suddenly made him too hot.

Clay walked over timidly, to comfort the other but was immediately stopped when Alyssa kicked him back.

"The hell is this!?"

The blonde rubbed the spot where her heel had dug into his skin to keep him at an arm's length.

She threw the sheet of paper on the ground in front of him and he felt his heart get caught in his throat.

  Number 6: D.R.E.A.M  otherwise identified as 'Clay Brighton'

-Elite Assasin (Do not engage unless told to by chief, or unit director)

  -Charges-
-Manslaughter
-Robbery

The blondes' gaze lifted from the paper with a list that went on and on.

All the things he'd ever done, had finally caught up to him, and in the worst way possible.

"You- you took us on this wild goose chase! You hid this shit from me-" George's voice broke as he tightened the grip on his hoodie.

No, not his hoodie.

This hoodie belonged to the person in front of him; the person who kissed him and touched him.

This person knew his deepest fears and secrets.

This person of which coaxed those 3 words from George's mouth.