Amnesia: Unknown [a Tom Hiddleston / Jonathan Pine, Jim Moriarty fanfiction]

[4]

The longer you waited, the more anxious you got.

You had stepped at the entrance just as your phone's clock changed over. But even though you were right on time, what if someone had pulled the trigger? What if they didn't keep their word and Tom has been dead since the dial tone? What if this was all just a trap?

And even worse: where were you supposed to meet them?

As you walked further into Central Park, you began to eye everyone, hoping that they would know why your presence was needed so desperately. If it was for you to merely be a hostage, then surely they would have taken you a long time ago. But they wanted you free from bondage, trusting you beyond chains.

What is their goal?

You had zoned out for a millisecond too long as you turned the bend, and that's when you felt someone's presence behind you. Taking your hand, they stop you right under the bridge.

"You look lost, Kitten," says an Irish voice into your ear, making your blood run cold. You didn't dare to move.

"What have you done with him?"

"With who, now?"

"With Tom."

"Who?"

"Don't toy with me."

The man chuckles. "Would I ever lie to you?"

"Is that what you told my husband when you took him in?"

Putting his hands in his suit pockets, the man looks at the ground, "Right...husband." He chuckles, "And you had no idea what was going on underneath your nose."

"I'm sorry?"

"Tom Hiddleston doesn't exist."

"What are you—"

The man shifts his weight to his right foot, becoming more laid back. "You don't believe me?"

"That's because you're lying—"

"The man you know is a spy trying to take down an arms deal that took a lot of effort to plant."

You hesitate. A spy? All the secrets, all the whispers, all the fake excuses, random flights, foreign flights, missed appointments, no-show dates...it all made sense. It wasn't you, it was him.

But why not tell you? Why not keep you in the loop and teach you how to protect yourself.

Actually, now that you recall, he did, offering every chance he could to take you to the shooting range.

"Tom, I don't see the point in this."

"To protect yourself?"

"To kill a human being? No, that's not me."

"What if one day we move from the city and we need to hunt for food, or if you need to protect yourself from a bear or something?"

"Then I'll learn then. Besides, you haven't kept a date in months."

Tom had asked you weekly for four months before resorting to dropping casual hints. He would leave advertisements on the kitchen table, point out the deer as they hid beneath the trees. But you would just leave everything on his side of the bed, your mind already made up.

But he did teach you how to punch properly, how to use an attacker's power against them. After getting the feel that you'd never learn to shoot, he took you down to the gym to practice self-defense.

"Turn your waist and your wrist as you punch forward," he has said as he slowly demonstrated a perfect punch.

Now you were a peaceful person, and your punches showed it. They weren't necessarily bad, but there was definite room for improvement.