Mission was Taken DNF

Wonderwall

Wonderwall

(a.) someone you find yourself thinking about all of the time; a person you are completely infatuated with.

~=~

Walking into the orange sunset lit room, a bed off to the side and another door showcasing a full bathroom, then a desk near the entrance full of papers and files, felt almost normal after doing so for days upon days over the last week. After moving George somewhere he could eat, sleep, and take care of himself, I took on the chore of supplying him with whatever he needed. The first day I brought George breakfast, I also delivered him lunch and dinner. Both very simple meals, just whatever I felt like eating except I made extra. However, when I had done these sympathetic gestures, I thought I was completely alone besides the accompanying George, eating and picking at papers he'd seen hours before.

But I wasn't.

Behind the one sided window, only reflecting myself back, was Sam. Frustrated he couldn't get anything from George, he came back down to the lower floors of the base just to study the mysterious guy who scrambled through the texts and painted evidence. While heading down, the smell of the grilled vegetables I had prepared caught Sam off guard. He followed my trail, only getting the glance of my heel as I entered the gloomy room to gift George his dinner. From there he watches from the adjacent room, hidden away, finding that I easily got George talking. Although the conversations from that night weren't about the case and more about how George was or what he wanted for breakfast, Sam could see something I couldn't. So, he told me the following morning.

~=~

"Come on, you have to try!" Sam begs, stringing the cheese pulled from his omelet around his silver fork, the plate still steaming from the fresh heat touching the cold winter air. Frost bit the windows and even I had a heavier sweater on. I finished stirring my mixture of hashbrowns and the potatoes perfectly golden; for something that was supposed to lack effort, I really tried to make the meal look good.

"No, I can't, Sam," I say sternly. Investigation was his thing, his job; mine was just to be quick and quiet, in and out. I don't have the patience to continue asking the same questions which will get us nowhere. "I don't see George as an object, he's gotta be going through something if he's so closed off, whether that means he's lying, I don't know." I shrug and toss the potatoes onto a plate, another side of bacon added too. He sighs, exerting the pressure inside his head.

"When can you then?" He asks, bringing up the idea of waiting. I wish he would just think of George as a living breathing person, someone who has feelings and thoughts. But no, he, just like everyone else, just wants this case to come to an end. He wants to plan and strategize, break George apart until he spits every drop of knowledge he has into a cup. I shake my head, ignoring the rambling of ideas exiting Sam's mouth.

"Nope, nope and nope." and with that I take both George's and my plate down the treacherous halls full of plants and boxes dating years back.

~=~

Later that morning, George was moved into the room I entered now. I glare at the sunlight shining through the window, knowing it's locked tight, the heat of the room safe from the stormy white flakes floating about outside. A loud but brisk jutt of water sounds from the bathroom and I can only imagine that George is finally showering, taking a long awaited break from the messy desk nearest to the door I stood in the middle of. I could sit here and wait, eat my breakfast, maybe even take a peek at the newly opened case box he had gotten himself into the night before - even though I was only to get him food, water, or whatever else was necessary for him to live humanely and happily, I may have snuck in a few other things. When he asked for more information about the case he was supposedly a part of, I didn't say no. Every thought in my head threatened me, telling me I shouldn't. It was against the rules, one-hundred percent. And yet, one little asking from this shorter guy, persuaded my mind; heart fighting against my brain and winning oh so badly- However, sitting and snooping around in his business would restart the dial lock of trust I was almost through. Scared of that, I walked back out, leaving his breakfast on the desk. I smiled fondly at the well prepared meal then left just as the shower stopped only a few feet away from me.