"Mama," the young girl watching television spoke carefully as she turned down the volume using the remote, and kept her head focused on the screen.

"Hmm?" the woman just returning home hummed to herself, shutting the front door and putting her bag down on the counter.

"You're late," seven-year-old Jamie chimed slowly, tilting her head away from the screen and looking to her left, "Are you okay?"

"I'm late aren't I?" Wendy arched her brows at her daughter as she took off her wet coat and hung it on the rack, "Are you hungry, Antoinette?"

"You didn't answer me.." Jamie let out a silent sigh as she drifted her gaze to the carpet she was sitting on.

"Ah," Wendy came back, side-smiling as she peeked at her child from the kitchen, "I was caught up in a little rain. No biggy. I'll go make dinner now. Anything you want?"

There was silence from the living room, and the child was full of unrest for some reason.

"Mama, I—" Jamie started, her breath hitching before she gritted her teeth together. Her eyes were hurt, but her own mother couldn't tell.

"What is it, dear?"

Jamie shut off the TV and pushed herself off the ground, dusting her nightgown of carpet fuzz as she grabbed her cup of water. She turned her body to face her mother's location, where she would be hidden behind the kitchen making dinner.

"... I'm not hungry," the child let out.

This was the third day in a row that she had been refusing food.

Wendy stopped what she was doing and straightened up, tilting her head back to glance at her daughter. "Antoinette?"

"For the love of god, I'm Jamie," the girl choked out, then forcing a small laugh afterwards so that her mother— who was startled from the outburst— weakly laughed along.

"Yes, sorry," Wendy smiled at her, "It's just, Jamie isn't feminine at all. I don't know what he was thinking when he named you."

′He'.. Jamie let the word linger on her mind before she snapped out of her daze and forced a smile at her mother. "I'm going to sleep early. School tomorrow."

Wendy sighed, "But I just got home. Don't you want to spend time with me?"

Jamie's eyes pained, but she didn't let her mother see.

She was an inconvenience to both of them. He didn't want her. And Mama, well, she always put her last. Jamie had grown to label herself as a responsibility, and a chore, that no one wanted to see to. When Mama was always out late, does she enjoy her time better? With better people? Was there a home for her someplace else?

"I'm just tired, Mama."

"Oh alright, I'll come check on you later dear."

She trudged up the stairs slowly, letting her mind empty as she reached her room and entered.

Jamie dropped the glass of water she was holding when she saw her father standing in her room. With a cup of alcohol in one hand, and a cigarette in the other, Jamie narrowed her eyes at the man in her room who had changed so drastically the past month.

"Papa.." Jamie trailed off and watched Charles in disbelief, "." (I want to sleep).

"Your mother came home, ?" (yes?). Charles raised his brows with an eerie look on his face, taking another sip of his drink. He pushed off from the bed and started towards the door. Jamie felt him pass her small body and her eyes widened, panic rushing through her body.

Reacting quick, her small hands clasped her father's sleeves and pulled back his arm. "Where are you going?" she lightened up, putting on a grin, "I actually want to play with you! How about we play... secret agents? You hide and I'll find you with my teammates and we'll have a big battle. How does that sound, Papa?"

Her voice failed her when she realized her father was far too drunk to hear her plead. "Hm?'" Jamie retried, her voice going quiet. The man yanked his arm away from her grasp and ripped open her bedroom door, marching down the stairs after muttering, "I'll kill her."

Biting her mouth so that she'd stop the emotions from blinding her from what she needed to do, Jamie turned on her heels and rushed out her bedroom to the top of the stairs, looking down to see her father had gotten her mother's attention. Jamie glanced up at the windows showing how silent and dark their neighborhood was at midnight before turning her attention back to the disaster that was about to unfold.

She ran two steps at a time, once tripping and lunging down three, and even four steps to reach her mother first. Jamie saw Wendy standing in the kitchen, her movements already stopped and she was staring at Charles with a frown. Charles was talking at the moment until Jamie came to her mother's side and faced him.

"Papa," the girl huffed and tried to regain her breath, "I promised Mama I'd show her a dance I learned in school today—" at which Wendy looked down oddly at her child knowing that that was not true, "—I have to show her right now before I fall asleep. It's really embarrassing for me, so.. so can you go to your room?"

"Jamie," Charles sneered, "Get away, kid. You're always trying to show her something when I have business with her."

Wendy put the knife she was holding to make dinner quietly in a cabinet drawer, not taking her eyes off of her husband. "So you drank again, Lennon?" Wendy's new tone showered the atmosphere with intimidation, "No wonder I didn't see you when I got home." She glanced down at her daughter before looking up and glaring at her husband, "You're scaring her. Stop it."

"What is there to be scared of?" her father opened his eyes wide and glanced down at her. Jamie kept silent and stood in front of her mother. "We're just going to talk," now Jamie heard the slur in his voice, "Like husband and wife."

Wendy scoffed, "Talk after becoming drunk? That habit of yours isn't helping, dear. You're a completely different person when you're drunk. Or maybe.." her eyes tilted back to the man and frowned a bit, "maybe I'm wrong. Maybe that's the real you."

"Cut the crap," Charles continued, completely forgetting that Jamie was there at this point, "Do you know how late it is? It's shit like this that has gotten us to this point. You caused this, Wendy."

"This time I came home only 30 minutes later than usual," Wendy shut her eyes in irritation, "So? Is that all?"

"For god's sake—"

"Papa, my dance," Jamie's voice cut in, whining at the unresponsive man, "Let me show it to her—"

Charles walked forward and grabbed Wendy's arm, to which Jamie's breath hitched and she tried separating the two. She stopped when Wendy's free hand rested upon her shoulder and Jamie looked up at her mother with hurt in her eyes. This happens all the time now, Jamie wanted to cry to her, please make it stop.

Wendy noticed her daughter acting strange and her face suddenly set in determination. "Let Mama and Papa deal with this by ourselves, okay baby?" She jerked her arm away from Charles and backed both Jamie and herself away, further into the kitchen.

"You'll get hurt." Jamie's face was scrunched up in anger, "Again!"

That's when Jamie saw her mother beam a true smile in a while. Wendy then spoke up softly, "Oh honey, I wished you knew.. if you did your heart would be more at ease, Antoinette." Wendy ruffled her daughter's hair with a gentle grin. "I can handle myself fine. I've never gotten a bruise from your father, isn't that proof enough?"

Jamie quieted down and bit the inside of her mouth until it bled, glancing at Charles standing a few feet away. A dark expression was etching on his face every passing second that Wendy wasn't receiving her punishment.

"Don't watch," her mother frowned at her, "Go to sleep. I'll come later."

Jamie tilted her head and stared at the woman in disbelief. She was going to get hurt again. It was going to be someone's fault again. There would be a large fight tonight, and she won't be able to sleep.

Disappointed, Jamie left her mother's side hesitantly and as she passed her father, her tiny fist balled up and she looked up at him to get his attention. "." (Hurt her and I will be angry). Without waiting for her father's reaction, or hearing what he had to say in the language that only he and her spoke, Jamie reached the stairs and proceeded to her room quickly.

_

Jamie woke herself up due to the fact that her mother hadn't done so for her ten minutes ago for school. When she got downstairs fully dressed in her school uniform, her eyes dilated as she realized both of her parents were gone from the house.

Again.

"I want to go with them too... that's not happening. Why? ...Well Jamie, they don't want you along." Jamie talked to no one in particular, grabbing her backpack slowly and checking the house for any fires and knives left out from last night. The coast was clear.

She heard the bus coming from around the corner and raced out the house, locking the door before getting on her bus. The moment Jamie got on the school bus the chatters and laughter, high-pitched whispering and gossip, and objects being passed around got her to frown.

On the way to her seat, a boy stuck out his foot in her path. She stepped over it without glancing where it was and shut her eyes silently, dodging a paper ball thrown her direction as well. It was always chaotic, once you learned the routine and that you yourself were an easy target for entertainment, you slowly got the upper hand.

Jamie had no friends. She was occupied with issues at home and how to get her mother to stop hanging around after whatever work she had. Jamie knew something was going on. Her father did as well. Or did he know more about her work and that's why he always responds so negatively to Wendy? Whatever it was, Jamie thought with a sigh, finally finding a seat next to a boy leaning his head on the window with his eyes closed, they're both at fault.

That day, she sat next to a boy named Liam Carter.. although as for his name, she never found out.

_

Agents and kids attended the same schools, once upon a time. A time when the rule was less strict, and a time where taking risks was fun. Agent K was an agent-in-training who started from the moment he could work with the R.U. Agent N, his father, introduced him to that world, and taught him that agents were kept hidden. We do the dirty work no one else would touch, his father told him once, because while others follow the law, we don't. We're basically illegal, Liam.

Eight-year-old Liam contemplated his father's words and watched as the class maneuvered outside for recess. His friends called out to him and gestured for him to join them to play. He stood up with a grin and walked with them to the door, suddenly slowly down when he heard some screeching from wooden desks and a huddled group of boys talking.

Looking behind his shoulders, he frowned at what he saw. His friends were getting bored and they told him to come out quick before disappearing out the door and down the hall. He, for one, slowly turned on his heels and walked back into the empty classroom without the teacher.

His eyes rested on the figure of a small girl he noticed several times this year. Not because she was popular, but because she was the complete opposite of that. She was quiet and only talked when called upon. Several times, Liam and the class saw their teacher pulling her aside to talk to her about what was going on. Liam was surprised that those talks with the teacher didn't resolve anything. Usually it did for kids like her. That must mean though, she was going through something and had a strong resolve to deal with it herself.

One of the boys closest to her grabbed her shirt and yanked her up. The girl was reading a book with headphones in her ears before she was pulled up. She let out a small yelp and an earphone fell out of her ear, her eyes glaring at the group before her.

"You're ignoring me when I talk to you?" a young girl in the group yelled in her face.

The girl with the headphones stared at her and kept quiet. She had a lot to say, Liam could tell as he observed her actions, but she was doing well keeping it bottled up.

"." (Leave me alone, bitch). The group before her turned to each other and frowned in confusion, whispering to each other to see if any of them understood what the girl had just said.

Liam, on the other hand, busted out laughing. Never mind, he thought to himself, looking back to the crew that had just noticed his presence in the room with them, she exploded.

The headphone girl stared at him with a frown, confused on why he was there, but her attention on him was cut short when the small group of kids before her got angry. They ripped out her earphones and tossed them to the ground.

Liam closed his mouth and raised his eyebrows after seeing what just happened. Kids were mean. Some don't even get better after they grow up.

"" Headphone girl spoke up again in German, "" (Why can't I read in peace? I never bother you—).

That's when Liam stepped in and stopped them before they could slap her with their filthy hands. Carefully blocking the other girl's hand, he gently pushed the group back with one gesture. Liam glared at them before they scurried off outside.

His attention went back to the girl getting out of her seat to get her headphones on the ground. He reached for it too, and their hands touched for a brief moment before she pulled away and stared up at him with cautious, confused eyes.

"Hello," he smiled at her and extended his hand, to which the girl frowned at and stayed still.

"." (You are one of them. Get away from me).

Liam retreated his hand and closed them with a straight smile. After eyeing her reaction, he decided to take another route to get her to open up to him.

"." (Well, that was kind of mean, young lady. I am not one of them).

Her eyes went back to his and he smiled when he saw the realization click in her. She slowly backed herself away, but still kept her frown on him.

"" (You speak German?)

From there on out he got her to open up to him and they talked every day. She told him about her family problems after several encounters and it was then he found out that when she was depressed, she would refuse to use English until she felt better. German was the language her father taught her and she told him she only had to use it when she wanted to be angry in secret from her mother.

Liam couldn't tell her that he was an agent however, or that agents were required to learn several languages, and German was one of the ones he was currently in course for. Lucky for that, too.

He got her ice cream after school one day and the two ate it silently. He got mint chocolate chip. She got plain chocolate ice cream. After a while she didn't like her ice cream and the two traded. "Indirect kiss?" he had joked, earning a playful punch to his arms.

The girl smiled and not long after, asked him to hold her ice cream so that she could tie her hair out of her face. It was a black ribbon. When he asked her why she didn't use a hair tie, she answered that she had lost them. Liam volunteered to try and tie her hair with a ribbon and the girl ended up holding both of their ice creams.

When he was done and she turned around with a cute smirk at how lope-sided the result was, he shrugged and leaned in to take a bite of his ice cream. Little did he know she had moved it away from her face to give it back to him.

They kissed.

She pulled away and laughed at how they both had ice cream all over their faces as a result of the kiss.

He learned that day that her name was Jamie Antoinette Lennon.

_

"Agent W!"

Wendy turned to her team leader, Spencer, and smiled. "How are you, sir?"

"No, you tell me."

She suddenly realized the man wasn't calling her to chit-chat about life.

"I'm... fine," she frowned slightly at him, accepting the coffee from a woman behind the front counter. The two began walking back to the dorm where their team was.

"Where were you last night?" Spencer pressed, checking his phone, "I got a call that you accepted a mission in the middle of the night after you returned home. What about your family, Lennon?"

Wendy raised her eyebrows and she finished taking a sip, "I'm an agent, aren't I? There was an alert for a mission. I was free."

"No," Spencer stated firmly, getting her to quiet down, "You know that's not how we do things around here. I assign the mission. You follow my orders. My hospitality only goes so far if you don't listen."

"I had family problems," Wendy murmured out, sighing as they reached the dorm room.

"Oh?" Spencer arched his brows at her, "Again? How's Jamie?"

"I put her to sleep."

"Did you? Or did she do that herself?"

"... she went to sleep herself."

Spencer shook his head and opened the door. In revealed a spacious, glorious room that her team trained in. Most of her team was on a mission right now though, save one still in the room on his laptop, shirt off.

"Agent N," Spencer announced with disapproval as soon as he saw the sight of the man half-naked. Wendy's partner looked up at the two coming in and smiled at her.

"Spencer, Emerson," Sebastian chuckled, "Coming late to work?"

Wendy rolled her eyes and went to her room for a moment to put her stuff down, in the process shooting Sebastian a playful frown as she said, "Morning, Carter."

"She's a married woman," Spencer tsk-ed at the man all carefree after Wendy left, "Address her properly, Sebastian."

Sebastian groaned and rolled his eyes, "I've known her for years as 'Emerson.' Suddenly switching to 'Lennon?' That sounds weird."

"Suck it up," Spencer snapped, "What are you working on anyway?"

"Emer- Lennon's last mission," Sebastian looked up at Spencer as he playfully blew raspberries at his team leader, making the man's brows twitch, "I'm categorizing the file she retrieved last night."

Spencer raised his eyebrows, "So you knew Agent W went on a mission in the middle of the night and you didn't tell me?"

"Partners keep each other's secrets, sir," Wendy's voice emerged again in the living room as she walked towards the couch behind Sebastian and the two fist-bumped each other silently.

"Who do y'all work for anyway?" Spencer rolled his eyes as the two agents before him laughed softly at his remark.

"Sorry," Wendy finally replied, taking a seat next to Sebastian as she peered over at his work and nodded at something he pointed on the screen, "It won't happen again. I just needed time to think."

"Why don't you ever 'think' like a normal person and just cope in a room?" Spencer sighed dramatically, "Getting on a private helicopter and breaking into a hotel at three in the morning with a gun isn't exactly what you should be doing to clear your mind."