Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Everyone knew who Rosalind Dyer was.

Well, they knew of her idea of a leisurely pastime. 

But nobody had seen her yet.

Nobody had yet matched the crimes to a name and face. And she very much intended on keeping it that way. It was much easier to do what she did when nobody looked at her suspiciously. It certainly helped that she was rather good at disposing of dead bodies. She knew how to snatch her victims without attracting attention. She knew which hiking trails were rarely monitored. She knew to get rid of any trackable device from her victim’s pockets. And, most importantly, she always knew to make sure the body was mutilated enough that it would render identification almost impossible. If someone found it, that was.

However, despite all her careful consideration and planning, this morning she found herself staring at a rather pale-faced jogger. He was actually almost as pale as the skin of the body she was currently burying. He was holding his phone up, presumably so its camera caught her face. At first, she wasn’t even aware of what this meant, of the fact that she had been witnessed standing nonchalantly over a dead body, because, more than anything, she was annoyed. It was four in the morning; why, in God’s name, was someone jogging through a deserted park? Hadn’t anybody ever told him that that was about as stupid as running through a shooting range with a target on your back?

But, before she could chastise the man, perhaps give him an example of what people like her did to idiots like him, he’d already run off. 

Although the masses of trees surrounding her were great for keeping both the body and herself out of sight, it certainly didn’t do her any favours as she started to run after him, finding he might as well have vanished into thin air. Grousing to herself, she returned to where she was, making sure the body was buried deep into the ground and that she hadn’t left anything behind. By the time she finished doing that, the sun was starting to rise, highlighting the muddled tracks in the dirt. She could also faintly hear sirens in the distance and knew she had to get herself far, far away from where she was.

She’d used this park before; it wasn’t too hard to leave and go back to her car. Rosalind drove as fast as she could to her apartment, but not so fast that she risked being pulled over. Immediately, she started to pack her things — not that she had too many; you never could when you lived a life like this — and opened her computer to search through the files she had prepared for this exact scenario. To her irritation, the blurry photo the jogger had snapped of her was already starting to pop up on social media and a few local news web pages. That photo might only attach just one murder to her, but there was certainly a likelihood that they would find some of the others.

And that simply wouldn’t do.

There was a solution, though. One that was far better than simply moving states, using a new fake ID, and stealing enough cash to get her by along the way, usually by visiting an ATM with her previous victim’s debit cards. Seeing as that method relied on nobody knowing that the legal holder of the account was, in fact, dead, Rosalind had the feeling she wouldn’t be able to make that work this time. She would need to move in any case, but she knew that with a call to the right person, she could soon be living in peace once more. 

Fishing out one of her burner phones, she dialled the number of a plastic surgeon she’d become acquainted with some time ago. The surgeon didn’t know all that much about her, she had to admit. But Rosalind knew she was willing to do anything she asked since she had evidence of the doctor's embezzlement up her sleeve. She was glad she’d kept her around. Although her killings were something solely attributed to her, not to any accomplice, not to any cause, just to her, given that getting caught was always a risk, it helped to have a few connections like this.

“I need a favour.” Rosalind said before the doctor even had a chance to finish her half-asleep greeting.

There was a pause. “R… Rosalind?”

“Oh, so you do remember me? Then you know why I’m calling.”

The doctor immediately perked up, her voice racing with anxiety. “Y-Yes. What… what would you like me to do?”

Before Rosalind could reply, she mustered the strength to cut her off, making her smirk.

“W-Wait. Before I agree to anything, do you promise that if I help you, you’ll give me the evidence?”

“Of course.” She said, her voice sweet with venom. “Now… I need a new face. You told me you could do that with just a photo, yes?”

“Yeah. I-If you can get me something like a passport or ID photo, that should be enough.”

“Then we’ll be in touch. I’ll tell you where I am, and you will simply tell your clinic that you’re ill and get there as soon as possible. This is a rather urgent request.”

The doctor cleared her throat. “Understood.”

“Good.” Rosalind said with a smile before hanging up.

In just a few hours, she would possess the face of Renee Walker, and everything would be well and good. Before she knew it, she would be able to get back to what she did best.

Of course, if she was going to impersonate Walker, Rosalind would have to make sure the original was out of sight.

Chapter Text

Renee had told herself many times now that working late this many nights in a row would take its toll on her, but once again, she’d let time get the better of her. Looking at her watch, she could see it was just after midnight as she walked to her car.

“Working late again, Agent Walker?” A voice called, echoing off the concrete of the parking lot.

She laughed through her nose, stopping to turn and look at the security guard. “You know me too well.”

He squinted at her.

"What?"

The guard shook his head. “I’m getting a weird sense of deja vu; I swear I’ve already seen you off tonight.”

“Or maybe you just need some new contacts.” She joked.

“Probably.” He laughed, but Renee could tell he wasn't quite convinced. “Well, have a good night.”

“You too.” 

Renee got to her car and placed her bag in the passenger seat. As she shut the door, she immediately felt like something was off. She couldn’t quite place it; she wasn’t exactly sure why, but the sensation wasn’t good. Despite coming and going from this parking lot every day, tonight she felt worried. Like she was being watched. Like she wasn’t alone. True, there were a couple of other cars here, presumably skeleton staff and guards who took the night shift. But that was something she was used to — a presence she expected. This feeling in her gut indicated something different. Against her better judgement, she decided her brain was simply a little too wired from working so intensely for all those hours. Turning on the engine, she started humming along to the song on the radio, trying to clear her mind.

Suddenly, a hand clasped over her mouth, pressing her head back into the seat so she couldn’t twist to see who her attacker was. Her cry for help was muffled by the person’s hand. In her rear-view mirror, she caught a glimpse of a pair of piercing blue eyes. There was something familiar about the face, but before Renee could figure out why, something sharp pierced the skin of her neck, and everything faded to black.

When Renee woke again, she noticed numbness in her arms and legs. Her head throbbed, and her vision was a little blurry. She tried to move but felt metal against her joints and figured she was cuffed. Her mouth was taped shut, and she could feel the hot exhales from her nose against her skin. It was dark and quiet, save for the sound of her breathing. Based on the musky scent and what she could see of her surroundings, she was in some kind of basement. Judging by the faint sunlight peeking through the gap in the blinds of a very small window, she figured she’d been out for half the night.

A light switched on, and she whipped her head around fast enough to make her head spin to find someone standing at the bottom of the stairs. Blinking a few times, she had to wonder how much of whatever she'd been sedated with was still in her system. Because the person looking back at her… was her. Or at least, she had her face. And hair. And… her clothes? Come to think of it, she certainly couldn’t recall wearing a sweater and jeans to work. Especially not a pair with what she dearly hoped wasn’t but certainly suspected was a blood stain.

The woman laughed a little as Renee tried but failed to speak.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your identity for a while.” She walked towards where she was curled up on the floor, towering over her. “I must say, the doctor did a wonderful job, didn’t she? It's amazing what she could do with just your ID photo. Such a shame she’s not around anymore to see it.”

The woman bent down to her level with a sickening smile. Renee tried to move away as she tucked a hair behind her ear, feeling a chill course through her entire body. To her surprise and relief, she peeled the tape off her mouth, feeling each tiny hair near her mouth get pulled along with it, leaving her lips flushed and numb.

“Who are you?”

“That’s not important. What’s important is that I get access to the FBI database.”

She gaped at her. “Y-You're telling me you got surgery so you could look like me? Just so you can infiltrate the FBI?"

The woman looked very proud of herself, and it was frightening to see such a malicious expression on her own face. “It’s genius, isn’t it? Impersonating an FBI agent. I can get rid of all the photos of my old face and evidence of my crimes, but even if someone catches me again, I’ll always have access to the FBI database to cover my tracks."

"Why me?"

"Well, you just so happened to be one of the first ID photos I could find. It makes it easier that we’re roughly the same build, of a similar age, and have similar eye colours. I didn’t want to take any chances.”

Renee tried but failed to think of any criminals on the FBI watchlist who might want to do this. She wished she had any idea who this woman really was. It terrified Renee to think about the ramifications of this woman impersonating her. She felt compelled to stop it and instinctively tried to lunge forward, but could only move a few pathetic inches, making the woman laugh cruelly.

“You’ll… You’ll never get away with it.” She said defiantly.

“You’re right." The woman agreed. "I wouldn’t have a clue how to get into your account. I don’t even know where your office is in the building. These are things that only you know.”

Renee gulped as the woman brandished a large knife from behind her back. One that she clearly knew how to use.

“But I have the feeling that with a little persuasion, you’ll tell me everything, Agent Walker.”

Chapter Text

Rosalind ran her hands down the front of her pants to smooth out the creases from bending down. Looking at her appearance in the mirror one more time, she checked for blood stains or anything else suspicious.

“After all that...” Walker said raggedly from the opposite side of the room. She coughed a couple of times. “Don’t I at least deserve to know your name?”

Sighing, Rosalind turned around to face her. “It’s Rosalind.” She answered sweetly. It didn’t matter that she knew; after all, she wasn’t going to live long enough to tell anybody.

Well, that would be the case once she got all the information she needed from her.

The agent had put up a fight, as expected for someone trained in the art of resisting torture. There was still far too much Rosalind would have to deduce on her own once she got to the FBI, but, hopefully, she could figure it out. If not, she would simply try her luck at asking Walker for more details. After all, it was clear that she didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to sacrifice herself to protect her information. Which meant there was a reason she was holding on. There was a reason she was fighting to stay alive but withholding information. So Rosalind was confident that she would crack eventually. They always did. There was always a button to find and push until she got everything she wanted. For some, it was simply the physical exhaustion of being held captive and denied basic necessities. For others, the button was a little more emotional; it was in the form of a threat to someone they cared about. Rosalind hadn’t quite found Walker’s button yet. She wasn’t married, she didn’t have children, and her other immediate family lived interstate. But there had to be someone. And Rosalind would do everything she had to to find it.

She moved towards the corner of the room, using a small step to elevate herself so she could adjust the camera she had fixed. Rosalind didn’t trust anybody to work with her; she didn’t trust that they could stay unsympathetic to her victims, so she needed a way to keep an eye on them. With this camera, she could not only watch Walker but also hear her and talk to her if need be. After all, even if she was physically restrained, she wasn’t going to take her chances and leave an FBI agent unsupervised. Satisfied with her set-up, she turned to Walker one last time, who glared at her.

Rosalind scoffed. “At least you’ve got this nice big room to yourself. Really, you should be grateful I didn’t just put you in one of these.” She tapped her nails on the lid of an empty oil drum before furrowing her brow in thought. “Actually, that’s not such a bad idea. I should use that another time.”

“There won’t be another time.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Sooner or later, someone’s going to figure out that you’re not really me.” Walker didn’t look entirely confident in her statement. But Rosalind gave her credit for trying.

“Even if someone does suspect you’re acting out of character, don’t you think I know how to take care of a problem like that?”

Walker sighed in defeat, to her amusement. 

Leaving the basement, she got into Walker’s car and drove it to the FBI, pleased that none of the security guards gave her a second look. They had no reason to after all, but still, there was something so satisfying about being able to fool the supposed ‘guardians’ of the country. When she entered the building, she took a second to observe the bullpen. She made note of the people who seemed to be paying attention to her and the ones who didn’t. Rosalind needed to know who was going to be able to pick up that something was amiss. A short woman with dark hair seemed intensely focused on what she was doing but still took a second to smile at her when she looked up. Another, much taller man approached her rapidly, also smiling, but with a sense of urgency about him. It appeared there were no morning lulls at the FBI.

“Hey, we have that conference call with the NSA in a few minutes. Do you have the debrief notes ready?”

This was something she hadn’t had to get out of Walker. While she’d been passed out, Rosalind had taken the liberty of going through the files that had kept Walker at work so late at night. She'd then realised that if she was going to be successful in getting rid of the APB on her name, she’d also have to keep up the rest of the agent facade. 

Rosalind held up the documents in question. “I’ve got them right here.”

He furrowed his brow. “Are you congested?”

“What?”

“Your voice sounds different.”

“Oh…” She cleared her throat before trying to mimic Walker’s voice a little better. “Yeah, it’s just allergies.”

He nodded and didn’t seem to give it another thought, to her relief. 

The meeting took far longer than she expected. She’d never particularly cared for law enforcement, although she’d at least thought being at the FBI would offer a little excitement. But it seemed to suffer the same bureaucratic boredom as every other office job. What she had paid attention to, though, was Agent Moss. If she wasn’t mistaken, and when it came to reading people, she rarely was, he seemed to be looking back over at her an awful lot. She would have to deduce the specific nature of Walker's and Moss’ relationship later, but it was clear he cared about her. He seemed sweet. Rosalind wondered if that care was requited, whether she should give him some of the same affection back. However, the more she looked at him, the clearer it was that he thought of her as more than just a friend but was trying not to show it. She felt a little pitiful for him. Love was something she never quite understood, but she did love how it could be used to toy with people’s emotions. She loved the power it had over people and the way it rendered some utterly incapable of thinking rationally. So, she figured Moss would be less likely to notice anything wrong if she gave him what he wanted.

When the meeting finally ended, she waited for others to return to their desks or offices, confirming that Walker hadn’t given her an incorrect room number. Shutting the door behind her, Rosalind opened the laptop on the desk, logging in with the credentials Walker had told her. Or, rather, screamed at her. She seemed to get somewhere past the login screen, but now came the difficult part. First, she would have to find her wanted alert, and then she would have to delete it without arousing suspicion. Rosalind hadn’t been naive enough to assume that this would be easy. But still, she had no idea where to begin. Every link seemed to take her down a different rabbit hole. And the fact was, she was on a time frame. She likely had some kind of work she was supposed to pretend to be doing.

Sighing, she got out her phone and connected to the microphone next to the camera in her basement. Clearing her throat, she watched Walker jolt a little as she sat up. She didn’t seem to have moved, so the restraints were still fulfilling their purpose.

“Tell me how to find the list of APBs.”

“I’m not helping you. It’s bad enough that you’re even seeing what’s on my computer. I’m not letting you get away with this.”

There was a knock on the door, making Rosalind look up.

“Renee? Can I come in?” Moss asked.

“Just a second, Larry!” She called in a voice starkly different from the one she’d been using on the phone with Walker.

When she looked back, she noticed Walker's expression had become very grave. She must have heard her. There it was. The button she’d been looking for. She knew how to make her crack.

“You seem very dedicated to keeping quiet, Agent Walker. Tell me, how long do you think Agent Moss will last if I start having fun with him like I have with you? And, need I remind you, that the only reason you're not already dead is because I need your information. As for Agent Moss, well, I have no reason to keep him alive and well.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, you know I would. Now, I’m going to ask you one last time.” Rosalind gritted through her teeth. “Tell me how to clear my name.”

Chapter Text

Larry had noticed that something was off with Renee this morning. In the NSA meeting she’d prepared so extensively for and intended on voicing very strong opinions at, she’d been almost silent, only speaking verbatim from her notes. That wasn’t like her. More than that, she sounded different today. He could swear on it. She may have brushed it off as allergies, but he didn’t buy it. Firstly, it wasn’t even the time of year for them. Secondly, he knew she didn’t have seasonal allergies. He could distinctly recall the previous year’s season when she’d teased him for his incessant sniffles. Larry supposed he could put it down to fatigue. Renee had been working late a lot. Maybe she was just coming down with something but not saying so, lest he tell her to go home and get some rest.

Janis called him over to her desk, disrupting his train of thought.

“Where’s Renee?” She asked.

“In her office, I think. Why?”

“She was supposed to send me the updated report on the Bridges case an hour ago. She’s barely done any work since the meeting.”

He looked confused. Maybe his suspicion wasn’t unfounded after all.

“I’ll go talk to her. I think she’s exhausted from pushing herself too many nights in a row.”

“Yeah. Poor thing." She agreed sympathetically. "But please tell her I really do need those results.”

“Sure.”

Larry walked towards Renee's closed office door. That was a rarity. She normally left it a little ajar unless she was doing something urgent or desperately needed some uninterrupted work time. Before he knocked, he tried to hear if she was on the phone or talking to somebody he hadn’t seen. It didn’t sound like she was in a meeting, but she seemed to be mumbling something, as though trying to keep what she was saying private.

“Renee? Can I come in?”

The mumbling stopped. 

“Just a second, Larry!”

Larry's shoulders relaxed a little. That sounded a bit more like her. Maybe he was just reading into it too much. He had to admit she was on his mind more than she probably should be. But he often wondered if he was on her mind, too. They’d worked together for so long that they could talk to each other about anything. 

Except for the definition of their relationship. 

He’d been a mentor to Renee since she’d started at the FBI, and she, in turn, had been both a loyal agent and friend. She’d supported him through the highs and lows of his life, including his nasty divorce, without judgement or expecting anything in return. And he’d been there for her too. He could still remember the day she’d returned from being undercover with the Russian mob. How broken she’d been, both physically and emotionally. That had been Renee’s first taste of what the job was really like, and he’d been there for her the way he wished someone had been there for him when he’d started out. But somehow, despite the openness and trust between them, neither of them had ever dared to ask whether they’d like to be something more. He did. Of course, he valued her as a friend, but he’d come to care for her in a way that transcended that. He wouldn’t dare say it out loud, though, because he didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t want things to be awkward at work or worse, make her leave.

She opened the door a minute or so later with a smile. “What’s up?”

“Janis needs the stuff from the Bridges case. She’s wondering why you haven’t sent it through yet.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I’ll send it.”

Renee spoke casually like it was a menial task, making the off feeling in his gut come back. She knew how important the Bridges case was; she knew that the only way they’d be able to chase the lead they had was if Janis had the most up-to-date information. So why was she brushing it off like this?

He shut the door behind them as she went back to her computer. “Are you sure you're okay, Renee? You’ve seemed a little out of it this morning.”

“Larry, I’m fine.” She replied shortly.

Larry lifted his hands a little. “Okay. I- I’m just worried about you.”

Something in her demeanour changed when he said that. Like the flick of a light switch, her tension suddenly softened. He could see her shoulders drop and the muscles in her face relax. Walking back to him, she gently placed her hands on his forearms. He almost didn’t know how to react. It was a nice gesture, but not one he’d expect from her. 

“I’m just a little tired. Don’t worry about me.” She said sweetly.

She was standing very close to him, her thumbs making small circles on the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t want to pull away; he didn’t want to reject what was possibly the only advance he’d ever get from her. At the same time, something felt wrong. He couldn’t place it. But there’d been too many strange things this morning for him to disregard his instinct. Larry tried to look at the size of her pupils, wondering if she was perhaps delirious with exhaustion, maybe even on some kind of stimulant. As soon as he thought of that, he dismissed the idea. Renee was many things — many wonderful things — but she wasn’t the kind of person to resort to drugs. But still, there was something different there. Her mannerisms just didn’t seem right.

“You seem a little tense too, Larry.” Renee pointed out in a sultry voice. “Anything I can do to help with that?”

Before he could even analyse what she meant by that, she was yanking him by the tie and pulling him down towards her. This time he did pull away, feeling a slight pang in his chest, knowing that the look on her face was probably one of devastation. But when he looked up, she didn’t seem upset but annoyed, grumbling something to herself in the same tone he’d heard before she’d opened the door. He felt his heart start to race. That gut feeling was ringing alarm bells now. When he looked into her eyes again, it seemed so clear to him. They might be a similar colour, but they weren't hers. Not even close.

“Y-You’re not Renee.”

He wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting, considering he was clearly looking at Renee's face, but he knew deep down that this woman wasn’t the Renee he’d known for nearly ten years. What cemented that further was when she shook her head, chuckling meanly.

“Oh, there is something behind those big, blue eyes of yours after all.” She said with a sneer. “And here I thought you were just a handsome boy scout.”

Larry felt an impending sense of worry consume him. Not just because he’d confirmed that the woman in front of him wasn’t Renee, but because he knew it implied that the real Renee might be in danger.

“What have you done with her?”

She laughed again, making his skin crawl. Taking advantage of their proximity, he pushed her against the wall, planting his hand just above her collarbone.

There was no fear in her expression; she barely even flinched. Whoever she was, she couldn’t have expected him to do that. Hell, he, himself hadn't expected to react so violently. But, if he wasn’t mistaken, she was... smiling? The fear in his body was manifesting as anger and a desperate need to know how and why this woman looked so much like Renee. He wondered how long it’d been since she’d swapped with Renee. She couldn't have gotten this far without some of Renee's information. Which meant Renee still had to be alive. She had to be.

With a twitch in his cheek, he wrapped one hand around her throat, keeping her pinned in place. She clearly had the means to overpower Renee, who'd beaten him in sparring matches more than once, so he wasn't going to take any chances.

The woman smirked, speaking huskily. “What is this, foreplay?”

“Tell me who the hell you are and what you’ve done with Renee.” He demanded, clenching his teeth.

“She’s fine... for now. But if you want her to stay in one piece, you better stay quiet and do what I tell you, Agent Moss.”

“Like hell I am.”

She tutted, speaking with a lot of confidence for someone being threatened. “I’d like to see you try. They'd sooner sedate you on account of insanity than do a DNA test on me."

He cursed under his breath. He couldn’t deny that she was right. Making his case would be impossible without some kind of proof. Even though the colour of her eyes was something he could point out, that wouldn't be enough to validate his claim that she was an impersonator. But he wouldn't sit there and meet this woman's demands, either. He had to think of a plan. He had to save Renee.

“Give me proof that she’s alive and well.”

“Oh, you do care about her, don’t you?” She thumbed at his cheek, and he felt a shiver run down his spine. “Fine, I’ll give you proof. But do you mind letting go of me first? I’d hate for someone to walk in and see you assaulting a fellow agent, especially since you're my superior.”

Larry obliged with a growl before the woman walked back to Renee's desk and turned the laptop screen to show a basement. Renee was cuffed and slumped against the wall. She looked barely conscious, and he could see she was injured. He uttered her name desperately, enraged that he felt so powerless to do anything here.

"She can't hear you, Agent Moss." The woman said, pursing her lips with mock sympathy. "But I'm sure it'll mean a lot to her that you'll be the one to find her body if you try to cross me."

He took a breath. He couldn't do anything. Not right this second. But he hated that he couldn't even think of a play.

No, all he could do was wonder how the hell he was going to get out of this mess, let alone with both of them alive.

Chapter Text

Although Renee didn't know how much time had passed, given that the sun had been up when Rosalind had left, and now it was well into the night, it must have been a while. She was still tense from physically trying to break free and fretting about the mess she’d made by giving Rosalind her information. But she was worried about Larry most of all. Sure, Rosalind had said she wouldn’t hurt him so long as she helped her, but she didn’t believe that for a second. If it had been the truth, Rosalind would have come back by now, eager to share how pleased she was for fooling everyone. 

Or maybe that was just it. 

Maybe she hadn’t fooled everyone.

If there was one person she could trust to have figured out that Rosalind was an imposter, it was Larry. Larry, who knew her so well — too well, some would even say. Yes, Rosalind might now look identical to her, but she had only been around her for about a day; that wasn’t enough time to mimic her effectively. She might be one of the coldest and cruellest people Renee had ever met, but she was ultimately still human. She had to have slipped up somewhere and somebody, likely Larry, would have picked it up. While the thought of someone catching Rosalind in her lie was at first reassuring, it also came with a churning sense of anxiety. Because if Rosalind knew that Larry knew she wasn’t Renee, then there was no stopping Rosalind from shutting him up for good. Renee believed Rosalind would have wanted her to watch Larry's torture. But perhaps she was more concerned about being outnumbered. So, if Rosalind had Larry, it was at his house or another safe house. Hopefully, the former. It was a hunch, but she’d have to assume it was true, or at the very least, hope that getting to Larry’s house would help her find him somehow.

She had to act fast. She had to get out of there because she was the only one who could stop Rosalind. While she’d tried to keep her efforts to break free somewhat discreet, if Rosalind was having ‘fun’ with Larry — a concept that sent chills down her spine — she wasn’t likely paying attention to the security camera. She hadn’t spoken into the microphone since she’d demanded more information all those hours ago, so she had to pray she wasn’t keeping watch right now. Looking around the room, she focused on finding something sharp to pick the cuffs. A paperclip, a bobby pin, a small piece of wire — anything would do.

Despite how filthy and cluttered the basement was, she had no such luck. Renee tried to inch her way across the room, wondering if the lid of the oil drum was sharp enough to create friction to break the chain between the cuffs, but that wasn’t any good. She kept intermittently looking at the security camera, expecting to hear Rosalind eventually threaten her but it really seemed she was occupied with whatever she was doing. That only made her feel worse. Chewing her lip in thought, she looked for something heavy but small enough to fit between her restrained grip. Her stomach rumbled, and she was quite dizzy. It had been a long time since she’d had anything to eat or drink. 

Sighing, she leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. The sweater Rosalind had left her in was quite thin; she could feel the surface of the bricks scrape her skin. A brick was precisely the right kind of tool she needed. Renee tried to feel against the wall for a loose paver but found a pile of spare bricks in the corner, to her relief. Renee stumbled a little as she stood and held the brick out. She kept her feet far apart, so the chain between her ankles went taut. Hoping her vision wasn’t severely impaired from fatigue, she dropped the brick between her feet and the chain shattered. She frantically grabbed one of the chain links and used the pointy edge to pick the locks on her wrists, flexing her hands and feet to regain circulation. She also yanked the security camera off the wall, watching the indicator light switch off. Hopefully, this would suffice as evidence of her torture.

Dashing up the stairs, Renee paused to catch her breath and stabilise herself again, finding the adrenaline rush was making her feel sick. Renee found herself in a dilapidated, empty house. There were a few supplies there, including a bottle of water that, after checking the seal was intact, she immediately drank about half of. She also found the bag of knives, hatchets, and God-knows-what-else that Rosalind had used to torture her and grabbed a couple of weapons to defend herself. The landline was dead, as expected, but she had to wonder whether Rosalind had left any burner phones lying around. She luckily found a cell phone in a small cupboard, but not her badge or gun to identify herself, as expected.

Turning it on, the phone immediately flashed the low battery warning, which meant she had to dial wisely. If she was only going to be able to make one phone call, it had to be someone who was going to help. Calling the police would take too much time to explain, or worse, they’d dismiss her entirely based on the outlandishness of her story. She thought about calling Larry and how relieving it would be to hear his voice but knew that, logically, if Rosalind had him, it was a waste of time. So, she called Janis. It took a few rings, but she thankfully answered.

“Gold.” She mumbled tiredly.

“Janis, it’s me.”

“What? Of course, I know it’s you, Renee. I didn't check caller ID because it's two in the morning and I don't have my glasses on, but I know what your voice sounds like-”

“N-No. You don’t understand." She stopped to try and slow her breathing down. Her throat was still dry from screaming and yelling during Rosalind’s torture. "The person who was with you at work today wasn’t me. She’s a serial killer. She had plastic surgery to look like me, and she’s going to hurt Larry.” 

"What the hell are you talking about? Are you on drugs or something?" She sounded more annoyed than concerned, and Renee had to wonder whether Rosalind's behaviour at work had irked her somehow.

Grunting in frustration, she desperately tried to think of how to prove this. “Check the cameras in the parking lot from two days ago. Go to about ten at night. If you look at them, you’ll see me go to my car twice. The first one is my imposter; the second one is me.”

Renee heard Janis mutter something about grabbing her laptop. She tapped her foot impatiently, hoping she would find the footage before the battery died.

“Y-You’re right. There’s... there’s two of you. Wait.” Her voice hardened. “Then how do I know which one I’m talking to? How do I know this isn’t some kind of trick? That she doesn't have a similar voice to you.”

She didn’t blame Janis for wanting that proof, and it at least meant she believed the story. But her safety wasn’t the priority here; Larry’s was.

“I will explain everything later, but we're running out of time. Please, I need you to send the FBI to Larry’s house.”

“I’m not doing anything until-”

“Would my imposter know what you did at last year’s Christmas party? When someone brought the tequila and-”

“Hey! You promised you’d never bring that up again.” She huffed. “Okay. I believe you. And, come to think of it, you were a real bitch today-”

“That wasn’t me!” She exclaimed. “Just please, do what I asked.”

“I will.”

The phone died before Renee could thank her. Running out of the house, she realised she had no idea where she was, so wandering wouldn't help. She also doubted she’d see any cabs around at this time of night. There were faint tyre marks in the dirt, probably from her sedan that Rosalind would have taken to work. But there was also a larger set; there had to be another vehicle. The property she was on was quite large; she had to walk quite far before she finally found an unmarked four-wheel drive. Smashing the window with her elbow, she opened the door and started the engine without any issue. There was also a GPS. She put Larry's address in; his house wasn’t as far away as she’d thought.

Renee gazed out over the horizon. “I’m coming, Larry.”

Chapter Text

Larry's head pounded when he came to. Something dripped from his forehead into his eyes, the sting making him wince. Judging by the odd, coloured stain in his vision, he guessed it was blood. He tried to move, but his hands were cuffed behind the chair he was sitting on, as were his ankles. Slowly, a couple of memories came back to him. He remembered feeling paranoid after the incident in Renee's office, to the point where he’d driven like an old lady on his way home, thinking her imposter might have followed him. He remembered trying to shower to calm his nerves, but everything got hazy after that. As his eyesight cleared, he saw the woman in front of him and realised that he’d been right to worry.

“You didn’t think I was just going to let you run off with my secret, did you?” She said with a venomously sweet voice.

“Why not just kill me?” He spat. “What are you trying to do here?”

The woman hummed. “Oh, Agent Moss, your profiling is way off if you think I’m the kind of person to take a life without having any fun first.”

Bending down, she reached out to grab his chin. Larry met her eyes, seeing a distinct coldness there. They said eyes were the window to the soul, and looking into hers, he knew he couldn't see one. He tried to pull away, and she gave a broad grin in return.

She chuckled. “Agent Walker is good at what she does, but I wonder if she’s good enough to find you. Then again… You'd think she'd be smart enough to check the backseat of her car in a dark parking lot, but she didn’t. You know she sings to herself when she’s driving alone? It’s adorable.”

As she gave an example, singing to a song he knew Renee liked in a hauntingly mocking voice, he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, and not just from the concussion he likely had.

“S-Shut up.” He said, even more afraid of this woman than before.

“Such a shame. I wonder how long it’ll be now before she dies of dehydration.”

Her face was just inches from his. In one quick motion, he tried to head-butt her, but she pulled away just in time. Grunting, he felt blood rush to his head as he leaned forward. 

“Then let Renee go first. Do whatever the hell you want to me, but let her go.”

Scoffing, she pulled out a sharp dagger from behind her back and held the tip to his throat. “You are in no position to make demands here. I’ve done what I needed to do. I’m not sticking around in DC any longer. Which means I need to take care of unfinished business.”

Before the woman could make good on her threat, the front door opened. Someone launched at her, pushing her to the ground and making her drop her weapon. The two of them fought for a bit, and given that he could see two heads with red hair, he felt a glimmer of hope knowing that one of them — he couldn’t quite tell which one from this angle — was Renee. One of them grunted as the other tried to scratch at her face. A pale hand reached out to grab the knife from the floor, managing to snatch it up and hold it over the other’s chest. Based on the clothes, as well as the dust and dried blood on her skin, Larry knew Renee was the one on top right now.

“I want my identity back.” Renee gritted through her teeth before dragging the knife across some of the exposed skin of the other woman's collarbone. She howled in pain, and Larry wondered how far Renee would take this. She wasn't exactly acting within the confines of the FBI right now. Nor could he stop her. Still, he knew Renee. Even in an adrenaline rush, she was rational enough to remember the FBI needed to know what else this woman had done. They couldn't do that if she was dead. As Renee kept holding the woman down, Larry realised what she was doing: giving the impersonator an identifiable scar to leave no doubt about her identity.

“There.” Renee let out a breath. “Now they’ll know how to pick us apart when I tell them everything you’ve done.”

Larry watched her grab a pair of cuffs from her pocket and spin the woman over to restrain her. The woman spat back a curse. He sighed as he started to hear sirens in the distance. Renee got up and rushed over to him. She looked exhausted, but, more than anything, she looked relieved, almost to the point of joy, that they were both here together.

“Are you okay?” Renee asked, tentatively touching what would certainly be a nasty bump on his head.

“I’m fine. Are you?”

She nodded. “I am now.”

Both FBI agents and police officers stormed into his house as Renee freed him, and, to his surprise, but not his displeasure, she hugged him.

“I’m so glad I got here in time.” Renee whispered.

“Me too.” He said, squeezing her back.

“Agent Moss and Agent Walker, are you?...” They turned to find Agent Park from their office walking towards them, but he had stopped to look at the woman on the ground. His eyes flitted between them. “Wait, which one of you is Agent Walker?”

The woman on the floor grumbled, trying to lift her head. “I am. Isn’t it obvious?”

“She’s lying. The real Renee is next to me.”

Again, Agent Park looked between them, confused. “Agent Moss, are you sure? They look identical-”

“You’re damn right, I’m sure.” Larry put his hand on Renee’s shoulder, making her look up appreciatively.

“The woman on the floor is named Rosalind.” She said. “She impersonated me in an attempt to remove a wanted alert for her in the system. I can tell you everything she’s done, including where she’s held me hostage for the last day and a half.”

Agent Park took a good, hard look at Renee, but seemingly accepted what she was saying and relaying the information to the others. A couple of paramedics came over to check them both out. They each needed stitches for their wounds, and they set Renee up on an IV drip. They sat beside each other on his couch, letting the other agents take care of things. They certainly wanted to be involved with the investigation when they were up for it, but, for now, they could relax a little.

“How did you figure it out?” Renee asked. “I mean, I’ll be honest, I hoped you would, but how did you know it wasn’t me?”

“It was a few things. But it was a little obvious when she tried to kiss me.”

Her eyes widened. “She tried to what?”

“Yeah.” He confirmed, laughing nervously.

Silence fell between them again, but neither could stop looking back at the other with fondness. It was a miracle that they were both here right now, and more importantly, here in one piece. Neither had been seriously hurt, and they’d captured the person responsible. All because she’d had faith in him to see through Rosalind’s lies.

“Look, Renee, I... I’m aware this probably isn’t the best time to ask this sort of thing, but... I really could have lost you today. And it terrified me.” He found himself lost in her eyes and cleared his throat to maintain his composure. “It made me realise that I shouldn’t take advantage of anything. In our line of work, every moment could be our last, so we need to take what we can while we have it. W-We’ve known each other a long time-”

“Larry,” Renee said, cutting him off. She tilted her head at him, sweetly and genuinely, in such a jarring comparison to Rosalind’s expressions. They might look the same, but the way they acted was so different. “Are you trying to ask me out?’

He bit his lip, looking a little sheepish. “Yeah.”

"Then, yes, I'll go out with you. I’ve felt this way for a long time, too. I was always too scared we’d lose our friendship if things didn't work out. But you’re right.” She met his eyes. “We have to take what we can get. So let’s give it a try. And no matter what, we’ll always have each other’s backs. That’s never going to change.”

“Absolutely.” He said, unable to contain his smile.

Suddenly, someone swore loudly. “Where is she? Where the hell is she?” They then shouted, and Larry felt his gut sink.

Agent Park approached them frantically, white as a sheet. “We’ve lost her. We’ve lost Rosalind.”

“I had her secured!” Renee cried.

“She couldn’t have gotten far. We’ll find her.” Larry assured, although some part of him already knew that that was a lie.

— 

Rosalind laughed to herself as she drove away. She had already removed anything trackable from Renee's car and planned an escape route that kept her hidden from traffic cameras or helicopters. The sirens were delightfully distant from her. She wasn’t going to be caught that easily. She knew better than that. Sure, Renee might give the FBI some clues and change her passwords, so, now, it wouldn’t be as easy for her to remove her wanted alert. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t keep doing what she did best. However, hanging around in DC wasn’t a wise move. It was time for a change. Something new. Something fresh. The weather was growing warmer now, so maybe she should go somewhere to take advantage of that.

Los Angeles, she decided.

Los Angeles was next.