Double Agent Watson

'Emma, you sure you didn't get shot anywhere? No scratches, nothing?' I asked just to be sure.

'Nope. So, how was your nap? Did you dream of anything?' She said.

So what happened before with Emma was a dream? That would explain the weird feelings and brunette hair. It was all a dream. I knew I didn't have a chance with Emma. I sat down in an armchair, facing the couch where Emma sat.

'Oh, yes, I had a great dream. I went down on you. I mean, I was sucking on your...' Emma put her index finger out, her expression saying "Too many details". I continued. 'You have dirty-blonde hair, but in my dream, you were brunette and American. I think I blended up one of my ex-girlfriends with you, Emma!'

I laughed in hopes for Emma to follow, but I may have gone too far. Emma's face twitched slightly at "brunette and American." That look, although only lasting for one moment, was filled with jealousy. I have seen that look all but too many times on my ex-girlfriends' faces when I ran into them on the streets of New York City, with a new woman in my arms. But that look on Emma's face dissipated quickly, and the smile returned.

'You pervert,' Emma laughed. 'Only you would dream of such things, and with one of your colleagues! But, I am delighted to be the subject of your fantasies.' She switched to a teasing tone. 'Keep this up and I might have an award for you.' She purred sexily. I wanted to kiss her bad, but her face was still bloodied from some terrorist's blood. Maybe multiple.

'Emma, what happened at the warehouse? I wasn't there, obviously.' I asked, having missed out on the operation, and probably dodged a few bullets as well.

'It's all done and dusted. Out of the 17 people I killed, 14 were heavily drunk. They were almost unprofessional as you! I screwed on a silencer, and took care of most of them before engaging in open combat.' Emma said. 'Everything is fine, Tim, Mr. Wilkerson is safe and sound now.' I looked at the clock in the living room. The digital display showed 22:58, and although I had just woken up, I hopped back inside my bed. 'Goodnight, Emma' I said, and I closed my eyes, but couldn't quite fall asleep. The dream seemed so very real, but I had to convince myself it wasn't. Emma was out fighting terrorists for the name of the Queen while I slept in the bed. The bed was comfortable, at least.

Emma took a shower to wash off the blood on her as I tried to sleep. I was awake, but my eyes were still closed. I couldn't sleep no matter how hard I tried, as I just woke up a few minutes prior. I fantasised about Emma. Her smoky eyes, her dirty-blonde hair, her red lipstick, her bite on her lower lips, formed a perfect look like I'd never seen before.

Emma turned the shower off, and there was a knock on the main door. I pretended to be asleep as Emma shuffled past my bed. The door to the suite opened. Two women, one most likely Emma, were talking, maybe arguing, but not loud enough for me to hear the contents of it. After a few minutes, the argument subsided, and the door slammed shut. I heard Emma shuffle past me again, and dropped onto her bed. Finally tired, I fell asleep at about the same time as Emma, as she quietly snored, succumbing to the demon that is sleep.

---

I made breakfast in the kitchen. Two pancakes each for me and Emma. They weren't hard to make, as the mix came in boxes with instructions clearly printed on the sides. Emma was still asleep, and I hoped to finish making the pancakes before she woke up. The wet, gooey mixture quietly sizzled as it cooked on the frying pan. I made four large pancakes in total. As I placed the last pancake onto a plate, Emma walked up to the kitchen. Shame, I hoped to surprise her with some breakfast in bed. She looked better than yesterday, her creamy white skin not covered in blood anymore.

'Morning, beautiful!' I shouted over.

'Morning, handsome.' Emma giggled. 'Mmm, pancakes... Tim, did you know I love pancakes for breakfast? You did cook some for me, right? I could kill for some breakfast right now.'

I handed her a plate. 'Of course, beautiful, how could I forget?' Emma smiled; as she sat down to eat her pancakes. 'You don't have to call me "beautiful" every time you address me, silly.' She blushed. Even though she denied it, she appreciated the compliments.

I grabbed my own plate, and sat down next to the small dining table, facing her. Even though Emma had no makeup on, she looked beautiful. Her smooth skin reflected the sunlight coming through the window. There was an indescribable feeling that was dwelling inside me; it grew stronger with every passing second that I spent with her. The dream from last night only adding to that passion.

Emma finished her pancakes first, and I finished soon after. We had a free day with nothing to do, now that the operation was done with. Emma suggested some things for us to do today.

'What about the London Eye? Tim, will you come with me?' She asked. 'I could sign a few signatures. I miss that part of my life.' She was a public figure after all, and I had to respect that.

'Yes, of course, let's leave right now! We can take a cab.' I said, as I dragged her to the door. 'Wait, Tim! I need to dress up properly, and so do you.' Emma shouted, and I had forgotten that we just woke up, and Emma still had a bra on because her shirt from yesterday was soaked in blood. She went inside the bathroom to put her makeup on and to dress up. I quickly changed into a yellow t-shirt and some jeans. My hair was still in shape from yesterday, thanks to the gel I had put on. Emma came out of the bathroom. Boy, were the paparazzi about to have a field day. Emma looked dead gorgeous. Her dirty-blonde hair tied up at the end, forming a small bun. Her long, killer legs were barely clothed with short jeans, accompanied by a white tank top above it. She looked ready as ever. I opened the door for Emma, and I exited the room after her.

Emma asked the cab driver to drop us off just next to the Big Ben. We planned to have a quiet, pleasant Saturday morning walk to the London Eye. The weather was unusually clear, only a tiny batch of cloud in sight. The sun's radiance seemed to have no effect on the passers-by, as gentle breezes fought the temperature away. It was a beautiful day. We walked across the Thames, stopping occasionally for a signature or a photo for Emma's fans. They all walked away with a big grin on their faces, having met the celebrity of their dreams.

The area around the London Eye was crowded, not unusual on a Saturday morning. We blended into the crowd, the positive side being that tourists would not recognise Emma by simply brushing past her. She had put on some sunglasses as well, and blended in as yet another stranger on the streets of London.

"45 minutes", the sign at the back end of the queue said. If this was how long it took for a ride on a normal day, I dreaded to think about what it was like during holiday season. 'Stay.' Emma said. That sounded familiar. 'I have to take a piss before I enter that long queue.' That didn't. I never knew Emma could be so vulgar at times. I stood by to the queue, not entering it. An American tourist came asking for directions, and I pointed to the bridge, then the Big Ben. She thanked me, and left. Her ass wiggled as she walked away, and I couldn't help but stare.

After a short wait, Emma came back. Her straight, dark hair glisten-... hold on a minute. Emma looked as if she was from yesterday's dream. She definitely had the dark hair, but the girl of my dreams had an American accent.

'Hey Emma! Can you tell me, what's the last letter of the alphabet?' I tested her.

'Z.' She replied, the Z sounding like a Zed, exactly how an American will pronounce it. This was indeed the girl from my dreams, but how? Emma and she had different accents, different hair colours, but identical looks. There was only one possible answer.

A familiar voice shouted from a distance. 'The lines at the ladies' toilet were too long, so I just pissed in the bushes. I hope nobody saw that.' A dirty-blonde said, looking behind her as she weaved through the crowd, not paying attention towards me and the brunette. She turned her head, and her eyes rested on the brunette. The identical expressions on their faces suggested one thing: Shock.

'Emma, what are you doing here?' The blonde spoke with a tone of anger.

'I- I-' The brunette stammered, struggling to come up with words.

Emma Watson and her twin sister stood in front of me, arguing. It all made sense now, the arguments, the dream, the operation, everything. The dream, was not a dream. Overhearing the argument, I learned that I had indeed pleasured a woman, but it wasn't Emma. Emma was upset at her twin sister, as she had only instructed her twin sister to babysit me for the night, in case I woke up and was worried about her. Not to have sex with me, then leave me for the night.

'Emma!' I raised my voice, stopping the twins' argument. They turned to me, both responding to the name I'd just called. At least I knew how they identified each other. 'Listen, Emma... and Emma. Both of you are very beautiful women, and I don't care for what happened last night. I'm not upset, and neither should you be, Emma.' The twins both tilted their heads sideways, looking confused. 'That's for blonde Emma. Damn it, Emma, how do I get one of you to pay attention when both of you respond to the same name?'

'I don't know. But we might be getting a little bit of attention here, people are looking this way. I suggest we sort this out back at the hotel.' The blonde said, looking around her. The brunette simply shrugged a "Whatever" with her shoulders. We hired a cab and instructed the driver to take us back to the hotel.

I sat in the front, next to the driver. The twins sat in the back, not making any noise. In the rear view mirror, I could see them looking out their windows, thinking about what had just happened. From what I had seen, the brunette seemed more adventurous, not tied down by the golden handcuffs. Most reported sightings of Emma Watson must be of the brunette, as she lived out her life in America. She definitely seemed more casual. The blonde was more used to the fame, suggesting that she appeared in front of the cameras most of the time.

We arrived back at the hotel. The twins sat down on the couch, and I did the same in an armchair, facing them. There was tension in the air, as the silence settled in.

The blonde spoke. 'Look, Tim, please don't tell anyone what me and my sister about to tell you.' I nodded. 'You have my word, Emma.'

She started, her hands gesturing whenever necessary. 'We were born as twins, as you can see. We went to separate schools. Nobody has ever seen us together, and there is no public knowledge about us as twins. When I starred in the first Harry Potter movie, I still had to attend school to keep up my grades. Emilia, my dear sister here, took my place in school and maintained my grades while I was away filming. Every day when I came back home from the film set, Emilia briefed me on what I'd missed that day. That's how we made it through the early years.'

Emilia, the brunette, continued. 'When the films started getting popular, so did my school life, as people took me for Emma. It was inevitable, and with mom and Emma's permission, I slowly merged into Emma's celebrity life. Emilia slowly disappeared from the world, shadowed by her big sister's success. My brother knew about this, but kept it a secret regardless. Despite what you might think, I did not appear in any of the movies. I don't have any acting talents. After the movie series finally finished, I stayed in America, while Emma went back to England, and stayed with the family.'

Emma spoke again. 'Although we're twins, and we look the same, deep down, we are very different. She's a normal girl, unlike me, a celebrity. She can live a normal life, as long as she was Emilia, not Emma. Fame can be a bitch, and I was even jealous of her normal life at times. We'd actually swapped roles a couple of times in the past few years. But we each have a separate set of skills, and mine were acting and killing. Hers were studying and, well... sex.'

Emilia's voice was breaking, but not crying. 'To live in the shadow of Emma... it was difficult. I didn't want that. That's the main reason why I gave up my life, and played in Emma's. And, I'm so, so sorry for having sex with you, I just wanted a taste of what Emma and you had together...' Her voice trailed off, her face looking down and away from my widening eyes.

'What? Emilia, me and Tim are not... couples! We're still workmates!' Emma gasped in disbelief, glaring at her sister.

Silence ensued. Our eyes shifted to and from each other's. None of us knew what to do in this situation. I had sex with Emilia, whom I thought was Emma. Emilia thought Emma and I were couples, and she wanted that. There was a simple solution.

'Emilia.' I said, getting her attention. She tilted her head, looking at me at me quizzingly.

'Will you be my girlfriend?'

---

End note: If you had read the first version of Agent Watson (just over 10,000 people, that is), it was a wreck. I admit it. It was rushed. This version was intended to be a small edit, but that was impossible. I started writing part 2, but then saw some ideas that could really fit into part 1, improving and fixing this part up better. Almost the entire story was rewritten, only a few paragraphs or so were all that remained of the original. Sequels, part 2? Maybe. This ending left lots of room for expansion. Let me know what you think.

Feedback is definitely appreciated, whether positive or negative. Every suggestion is taken into consideration.

Thanks for reading.