One Chance (by StephanieJane303 & AriellaElie)

Hey all! Here is the first chapter to mine and StephanieJane303's joint story!

I would appreciate any feedback you can give me. Let me know what you think. Thanks for taking the time to read our story, and I hope you enjoy it!

If you do like it, please recommend it!

This is the first time I've ever written a story with anyone, so I'm sure it'll be a fun learning experience for the both of us! :)

Enjoy!

~ AriellaElie

One Chance

by StephanieJane303 & AriellaElie

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Chapter One

-Julian's POV-

You probably didn't know this, but even spies have their fears. In my case, I've always been extremely afraid of heights. But because my job requires me to deal with them on a regular basis, I've learned to face that fear, and not let it hinder me; however, that doesn't mean I don't feel afraid every time I look down the side of a cliff before I jump. And for this reason, flying in a plane was not my favorite pass time. I've especially hated the moment of take off, when you feel the plane leave the ground, and it feels like you left your stomach down there as well.

Nevertheless, here I was, boarding an airplane, of which the destination was Paris, France.

“May I see your ticket, sir?” the flight attendant asked me.

Without saying anything, I handed it over. She lead me to where my seat was, and I followed after her. I've flown enough that it isn't an exciting event anymore. I just try to get on the plane as quickly as possible, and try to get it over with. I enjoy the destination, not the journey.

“Here is your seat, Mr. Wynne,” the flight attendant announced, with a smile. “Enjoy your flight.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

Having already put my luggage overhead, I sat down. It was strange when she'd said my name, my real name. Because I was so used to traveling under false identities, it felt weird hearing my own name being used. Very strange indeed.

Maybe I should take a vacation every now and then, when I get back from this trip. Maybe I've been working a little too hard.

I lay back while the other passengers were boarding the plane and finding their seats, hoping for sleep. If I wasn't awake, I wouldn't have to think about all the things that could go wrong with the flight. Mostly, I could just try to block out the world. As a spy, I've been trained to always be on my guard, to notice every tiny detail. Once you'vestarted to do that, though, it becomes really hard to turn that extreme awareness off. So, try as I might, in the end, I didn't really get much sleep.

Finally, I gave up and sat up. The flight attendants came by and gave out drinks and peanuts to whoever wanted. I didn't want anything, so I got up and headed to the restrooms. I was feeling a little bleary-eyed, so I felt like I needed to splash some water on my face. Thankfully, the restrooms weren't all taken yet since we'd only been flying for about an hour. And I was able to find a vacant one almost immediately.

I entered and locked the door behind me. I scanned the room, which didn't take long since it was so small. It consisted of a toilet, a sink, and a mirror above it; all crammed inside a small space. I used the sink to splash some water on my face, and looked at myself in the mirror. My dark, curly hair was tousled from sleep, and my blue eyes looked weary and tired. I had had too many long nights, staying up for work, or for more personal reasons.

“We just have to do this a little bit longer, Nicholas Wynne,” I told myself, quietly. “We're so close to finding all the answers. Then, there will be time to relax.”

I walked back to my seat. Looking out my window, I could see the ocean far below. I decided looking out the window again would probably not be a good idea. So instead I pulled out a book, giving up on sleep to pass the time. I loved to read, always have. I had brought one of my favorite books for this trip, so I began to become engrossed in the story, and nearly focusing on much of anything else.

The rest of the flight went routinely. They played a few movies to entertain the passengers, gave out more drinks, and at last we reached our destination. The plane landed smoothly and once we stopped, they announced it was okay to get of our seats and exit the plane. I grabbed my luggage and exited the plan slowly, waiting in line with all the other passengers. Then came customs and airport security.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” the customs agent asked me, after I'd given him my passport and other documents.

“Business,” I replied.

After getting through all of the airport security, I finally was able to walk out of the airport and head into Paris. It was late at night, about 2 A.M. I was already tired from my flight, so I decided it was best to just call it a night. I waved down a taxi.

“Emmenez-moi à l'hôtel Meurice, s'il vous plaît,” I told the taxi driver.(Take me to the Hotel Meurice, please.)

I had booked a reservation at the Le Meurice hotel, one of the nicest hotels in Paris. I intended to have my stay here be a comfortable one, if nothing else. Although tomorrow, hopefully, it would prove to be a profitable one as well.

“Où habitez-vous?” the taxi driver asked, voice heavy with his accent.(Where are you from?)

“New York,” I answered.

“Oh, vous êtes un Américain?” The taxi driver said. “Vous parlez très bien français.” (Oh, you're an American? You speak French very well.)

“Je vous remercie,” I replied, with a smile. “L'apprentissage des langues est une de mes passions.” (Thank you. Learning languages is a hobby of mine.)

We arrived at the hotel, and I paid the taxi driver. I entered the lobby and looked around. It was a very impressive looking place, with an air of grandeur and elegance to it. I walked up to the front desk to check in.

“Bonjour.Puis-je vous aider?” the man behind the desk asked. (Hello. Can I help you?)

“Oui, j'ai une réservation,” I told him. “Mon nom est Nicolas Wynne.” (Yes, I have a reservation. My name is Nicholas Wynne.)

“Oui, nous vous attendions,” The desk clerk said, friendly. “Bienvenue, M. Wynne. Votre suite est le numéro 762. Voici votre clé de chambre. J'espère que vous trouverez tout à votre goût. Si vous besoin de quelque chose, s'il vous plaît demander.” (Yes, we've been expecting you. Welcome, Mr. Wynne. Your suite number is 762. Here is your room key. I hope you find everything to your liking. If you need anything, please ask.)

“Merci,” I responded, with a smile. (Thank you.)

I headed over to the elevator, and went up to my suite.

The suite was nice, to say the very least, as was the entire hotel. It was decorated withclassic French furnishings in the Louis XVI style. All of the furniture were period pieces, with a few modern touches. In the bedroom there was a large king sized bed, with a canopy hanging above it from the ceiling. It all captured the Parisian luxury style perfectly. Also there was a sitting room, a dressing room, a mini bar, and a large bathroom; all decorated exquisitely. I think I was going to enjoy my stay here.

I decided to wait until the morning to explore the rest of the hotel, because I was very tired after the long flight. I got myself ready for bed, and turned out the lights. At night is when my brain always decides to think, rather than sleep, no matter how tired I am; tonight was no exception. During the daytime I can find distractions to keep myself from thinking too much, but my brain didn't let me forget the reason why I came here.

Tomorrow, I might finally get some answers. Answers I'd been waiting for, for half of my life. And then, as my thoughts went down that road, I wasn't able to stop myself before the memories came back. They haunted me, every night, and no matter what I did I could never forget them. Not that I wanted to, they were the reason I was here, but because of them I had nightmares. It was always the same dream, over and over again.

It is when I was fifteen, and I'm walking down the street. I feel warm and happy, the innocence of a child. That is one of the things I've missed the most, feeling happy. I haven't felt truly happy ever since. In the nightmare, there are flashes of light, and then I'm grabbed by someone from behind. I hear gunshots and watch him die. I try to break free, but I'm not able to. I'm just not strong enough. And it's usually at this point when I know I've lost everything, and my vision goes black.

It's a horrible memory, having the night you lost everything replayed over and over again in your mind. I've gotten used to it, though, and now I just feel numb whenever I see it. But that's all going to change tomorrow.

I'm going to finally find out why. That is the question that has haunted me for so long, and not knowing the answer is going to kill me eventually. This is it, my one chance to find the truth. I am going to take it, even if I have to do it through force.

Tomorrow.