123/100 Sentences
She'd been so frightened as a child. Strangers, loud noises, crowded places, all of it had scared her. Her father had been away so much, for work of course, months at a time. Ros' mother had accepted it more readily than Ros, for when her father was there it didn't seem so bad. When he was around she was never frightened. He was so strong. She never thought she'd be that strong. He would tell her how silly it was, that he was disappointed in her. He never said that it was alright. Sometimes it was alright to be afraid of things. She was seven when she called her mother, asking to come home from school, the girls there were cruel. It wasn't her mother who came to get her. It was her father, not even with a driver. When she saw his face she was so upset with herself. She told herself she would never be frightened by anything again. She would be like her father, brave and strong.
They didn't send her to school in England. No, she went to school wherever her father was stationed. Bangkok, Lima, New Delhi, Buenos Aries. Even in teen years she was aloof and distant. She'd made herself that way. Unlike her mother who was too emotional she thought, Ros tried to distance herself from the image most girls projected. They were flighty she thought, and she had no time for that sort of thing. She was far too practical for all of that, or so she told herself over and over. It was never easy for her to make friends. After a while she told herself she didn't want those girls as friends. She believed it. She didn't always understand what strength was back then. In trying to be aloof, to hold herself apart, she'd turned into a bully. She was kicked out of school in Lima for bullying. Too used to getting her way at that age. Ros always could be convincing, capable of convincing others to do what she wanted without them even realising she'd done it.
Rarely at the very top of her class, Ros was never far behind. Second or third in most things, first in a few, she had an insightfulness that her teachers recognised and encouraged. A way of looking at things from a different angle. Ros enjoyed playing devil's advocate, and would sway others to her side, even though it was a side she didn't necessarily believe in.
Things changed in college. Ros realised that friends were useful, if at least for the connections they would provide later in life. Arabic at Oxford, not exactly what everyone thought she would take. She opened up whilst there, she even found someone, fell in love, though she hated that word. Still not the type to have many friends, she had a circle of acquaintances, and that was enough. She remembered arguing with her professors, fellow students. Things had seemed so black and white then, a line between what was right and what was wrong.
Everything changed in Russia. Work experience for her father in the summers, it was what she did. Her father was the Ambassador, an opportunity she would never have again and Ros jumped at the chance. Then the bomb had gone off in the market she was in, she'd seen all those people die, the government try and cover it up. Black and white still existed for her, but grey had worked its way in as well. Grey continued to work its way in long after that, til the line between right and wrong was a thick one. One based entirely on her judgement of things.
When her relationship broke down she told herself it was for the best. She had changed. She had different goals now. Yet she was disappointed, she felt let down by him, as if he should have changed with her. Her walls went up even further. Never one to trust people easily, her capacity for it was lessened yet again. Even more focused now, her eye never off the ball. That was what it taught her.
MI-6 recruited her out of college. She'd been expecting the offer, and had taken the job. Ros had a knack for this sort of thing. Her ability to see things another way, to look at problems from many angles. She was loyal to her country, and she believed in what she was doing. That she didn't let people in was only to her benefit. That she was a good judge of people, and willing to make decisions others would shy from also worked in her favour. She rose fast through the ranks, due to her skill she would tell herself and it was mostly true. The service didn't promote people on family connections, but then again, they didn't hurt. Yet she hated any idea that her progression had been due to nepotism of any form. When she heard rumours she worked even harder, closed herself off even more. She didn't have time for relationships, friends or others. She'd had lovers of course, some in the line of work, some simply because. But they never lasted long. She didn't want them to.
Her house was white. White and clean and spartan. It was the sort of home you might see in a magazine, not the sort you saw a family in. She liked it that way, had designed it like that. There was never anything in the fridge. It wasn't that she couldn't cook, she didn't. For all that her family were important to her, Ros didn't put down any roots of her own.
It wasn't long before she was called ruthless. Alright, that was never the word they used, but it was what they meant. Efficient. Capable. Practical. Sometimes even cold. If she'd heard the way they talked when she wasn't there, she would have heard cynical, or callous. She wouldn't have minded the first at least, she knew it was true, though she would have said it was simply realistic. In the end it all meant the same thing. She was successful and they were jealous. She didn't care. She couldn't afford to.
It wasn't that she couldn't laugh or smile. She could and she did. She teased, and she even played sometimes. But on her terms. Only on her terms. She hated giving up the upper hand. She hated giving up control.
Adam changed it all again. There were times, late at night, where she wondered if she should lay blame at his feet. Ros wasn't that sort. She took responsibility, even when she'd rather shirk it. She'd never realised she'd become stronger than her father. In trying to emulate him she'd become something else entirely. Something better than he was. When he fell off the pedestal she'd set him on it hurt.
That was why Ros didn't love people, didn't let them in. They disappointed you.
Ros had never meant to let Adam see her cry. She swore she never would again.
Walking into MI-5 that first day had been hard. Harder than she would ever admit. But she'd done it. She'd done it because she couldn't afford to be weak. She'd done it because her work was her life. If she lost that she would have been adrift. Ros didn't know how to do nothing, how to simply relax. She never would.
She wasn't sure when she realised that she needed him. His friendship, his approval, she didn't know what it was, but it was there. Likely when she realised he didn't need her. Respect. They had a relationship built on respect and understanding. They were both strong, yet somewhere, underneath it all, they were both weak.
They didn't send her to school in England. No, she went to school wherever her father was stationed. Bangkok, Lima, New Delhi, Buenos Aries. Even in teen years she was aloof and distant. She'd made herself that way. Unlike her mother who was too emotional she thought, Ros tried to distance herself from the image most girls projected. They were flighty she thought, and she had no time for that sort of thing. She was far too practical for all of that, or so she told herself over and over. It was never easy for her to make friends. After a while she told herself she didn't want those girls as friends. She believed it. She didn't always understand what strength was back then. In trying to be aloof, to hold herself apart, she'd turned into a bully. She was kicked out of school in Lima for bullying. Too used to getting her way at that age. Ros always could be convincing, capable of convincing others to do what she wanted without them even realising she'd done it.
Rarely at the very top of her class, Ros was never far behind. Second or third in most things, first in a few, she had an insightfulness that her teachers recognised and encouraged. A way of looking at things from a different angle. Ros enjoyed playing devil's advocate, and would sway others to her side, even though it was a side she didn't necessarily believe in.
Things changed in college. Ros realised that friends were useful, if at least for the connections they would provide later in life. Arabic at Oxford, not exactly what everyone thought she would take. She opened up whilst there, she even found someone, fell in love, though she hated that word. Still not the type to have many friends, she had a circle of acquaintances, and that was enough. She remembered arguing with her professors, fellow students. Things had seemed so black and white then, a line between what was right and what was wrong.
Everything changed in Russia. Work experience for her father in the summers, it was what she did. Her father was the Ambassador, an opportunity she would never have again and Ros jumped at the chance. Then the bomb had gone off in the market she was in, she'd seen all those people die, the government try and cover it up. Black and white still existed for her, but grey had worked its way in as well. Grey continued to work its way in long after that, til the line between right and wrong was a thick one. One based entirely on her judgement of things.
When her relationship broke down she told herself it was for the best. She had changed. She had different goals now. Yet she was disappointed, she felt let down by him, as if he should have changed with her. Her walls went up even further. Never one to trust people easily, her capacity for it was lessened yet again. Even more focused now, her eye never off the ball. That was what it taught her.
MI-6 recruited her out of college. She'd been expecting the offer, and had taken the job. Ros had a knack for this sort of thing. Her ability to see things another way, to look at problems from many angles. She was loyal to her country, and she believed in what she was doing. That she didn't let people in was only to her benefit. That she was a good judge of people, and willing to make decisions others would shy from also worked in her favour. She rose fast through the ranks, due to her skill she would tell herself and it was mostly true. The service didn't promote people on family connections, but then again, they didn't hurt. Yet she hated any idea that her progression had been due to nepotism of any form. When she heard rumours she worked even harder, closed herself off even more. She didn't have time for relationships, friends or others. She'd had lovers of course, some in the line of work, some simply because. But they never lasted long. She didn't want them to.
Her house was white. White and clean and spartan. It was the sort of home you might see in a magazine, not the sort you saw a family in. She liked it that way, had designed it like that. There was never anything in the fridge. It wasn't that she couldn't cook, she didn't. For all that her family were important to her, Ros didn't put down any roots of her own.
It wasn't long before she was called ruthless. Alright, that was never the word they used, but it was what they meant. Efficient. Capable. Practical. Sometimes even cold. If she'd heard the way they talked when she wasn't there, she would have heard cynical, or callous. She wouldn't have minded the first at least, she knew it was true, though she would have said it was simply realistic. In the end it all meant the same thing. She was successful and they were jealous. She didn't care. She couldn't afford to.
It wasn't that she couldn't laugh or smile. She could and she did. She teased, and she even played sometimes. But on her terms. Only on her terms. She hated giving up the upper hand. She hated giving up control.
Adam changed it all again. There were times, late at night, where she wondered if she should lay blame at his feet. Ros wasn't that sort. She took responsibility, even when she'd rather shirk it. She'd never realised she'd become stronger than her father. In trying to emulate him she'd become something else entirely. Something better than he was. When he fell off the pedestal she'd set him on it hurt.
That was why Ros didn't love people, didn't let them in. They disappointed you.
Ros had never meant to let Adam see her cry. She swore she never would again.
Walking into MI-5 that first day had been hard. Harder than she would ever admit. But she'd done it. She'd done it because she couldn't afford to be weak. She'd done it because her work was her life. If she lost that she would have been adrift. Ros didn't know how to do nothing, how to simply relax. She never would.
She wasn't sure when she realised that she needed him. His friendship, his approval, she didn't know what it was, but it was there. Likely when she realised he didn't need her. Respect. They had a relationship built on respect and understanding. They were both strong, yet somewhere, underneath it all, they were both weak.