A/N: The chick is not Teresa Stowe (aka the stitch in the movie) -but I imagine they're related. The characters don't have names -but yes the chick's a stitch and the guy's a mover.


London

Running. Always running. And now they've finally caught up with him.

He's trapped in an alley-way. He turns around to look at his pursuer.

It's a woman; immaculately dressed in a business dress and heels. Her hair is up like something out of a black and white movie and she's wearing pearls.

If it were anyone else he'd be worried about them being in this type of neighborhood. But he knows who she works with so he's more afraid for anyone who approaches her.

She smirks. Her voice is a silky whisper. "Well hello there."

"So what now? Is this the part were a dozen Division guys come out and ambush me to take me to some secret lab?"

The smirk hasn't left her face. Her hands are clasped behind her back and she takes slow, deliberate, cat-like steps toward him.

"Not exactly."

Her arm swings forward. There's a gun in her hand and she shoots.

He loses count after the first two bullets hit him.

He's on the floor bleeding out in the alley. The only thing he can see is the pitch black sky and a bright street light.

He can see her outline now. She's leaning over him and incredibly close. Her hands are on his chest and roaming over his wounds.

His body convulses. It feels like he's being rearranged from the inside-out.

He's ready to pass out but he feels better for some reason.

"There –I've stitched you up." He can feel her run a finger down his forehead and nose, passed his lips, until she reaches his chin. She moves his head with that one finger, to a position that she likes. "Now I can break you anytime I want."