Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Kudos and BBC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Mikhael suddenly seemed small as he lay on the bed, the covers pulled up to his shoulders.  Wires of different colors snaked from beneath the sheets to the machines along the side of the bed.  One machine beeped regularly in tune with his heart beat while another beeped in intervals to indicate that the intravenous drip had reached the end of the bag.  

A ventilator was helping him breathe and for a moment Alexa lingered to watch him, his scarred face pale beneath the light of the room.  The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and she looked behind her, seeing that the guard was watching her from the glass window.  

Suddenly she winked at him and walked towards the side of the bed to look at the drainage bag hanging along the railing that was attached to the urinary catheter, as if she were measuring the patient’s urine output.  The guard made a face and looked away, sitting back down on the chair with his back to Alexa.

Alexa straightened up and walked towards the closet.  She didn’t know exactly what she was looking for but she hoped to find the bag with his belongings somewhere, items that would have been found in his pockets when he’d been brought in.  

The nurse who had handed Alexa her medication in her own room just minutes earlier had said so herself, and for that indiscretion, Alexa counted herself fortunate.  

The nurse, who went by the name Marina according to her name tag, was young and bored.  She was probably also curious as to why the patient who had gone by the name of Jenna Smith required an armed guard twenty-four hours a day.  Alexa had noticed Marina eyeing her curiously, probably wondering if Alexa was a wanted criminal of some sort.  

“I’m not supposed to ask this but do people want to kill you?” She suddenly asked in a whisper as she handed Alexa some pills along with a cup of water.  “Is that why there’s a guard outside?”

Alexa shook her head, forcing a smile.  “I don’t think anyone wants to kill me.  At least I hope not.”

“We had a shooting two nights ago,” Marina added, nervously looking towards the door.  “Two men were shot and one of them didn’t make it.  They were Secret Service men so that’s why I’m wondering if you’re one of them.”

“How do you know they were Secret Service?”

“Nurses talk,” the girl said.  “Anyway, the one who survived looks like he’s been through a fire or something.  He’s really scary looking and he’s under guard, just like you.  Not that I’m saying that you’re scary looking --”

“That’s alright,” Alexa smiled, feeling her heart race inside her chest.  Did she mean that Mikhael was in the same hospital as her?  “I understood what you meant.  Have you seen him up close?  This scarred man?”

Marina nodded.  “Quite horrible looking, if you ask me.  I had to bring up his belongings to his room to the ICU yesterday.  No James Bond, that’s for sure,” she said, making a face as she wrote down something on the chart that hung on the edge of Alexa’s bed.  “He’d been shot in some shoot-out, from what I heard from the other nurses in the lunch room and he’d just come from surgery when someone came to shoot him inside the hospital --”

Alexa suddenly groaned and Marina looked up, surprised.  “Is anything the matter?”

“My head suddenly hurts,” Alexa said softly, rubbing her temples.  “I’m not feeling too well.”

Marina frowned and walked towards Alexa, reaching for the thermometer on the wall and dipping into a box of plastic thermometer covers.  “Let me check your temperature then,” she said as she drew closer.

“I’m so sorry I have to do this to you,” Alexa whispered.  “But you really shouldn’t be violating patient privacy like you just did.”

And as Marina looked at her, a curious expression on her face, Alexa grabbed her blouse with both hands, pushed her backwards before yanking her back towards her.  Tucking her chin into her chest, the nurse’s face smashed onto Alexa’s crown in a powerful head butt.  Marina moaned, her eyes fluttering, and she became limp. 

Alexa caught her against the bed before she landed on the floor, cursing under her breath as she did so.  She hoped no one had heard the sound of the Marina’s facial bones coming into contact with her skull and for a few moments, Alexa waited with a racing heart, but the door remained shut.  

Blood streamed down the girl’s face, her nose probably broken but Alexa didn’t care.  She sprang up from the bed and began to undo her hospital gown.  

In minutes, Alexa was dressed in the girl’s hospital scrubs and the nurse was tucked under the white sheets.  She’d left Marina’s clogs under the hospital bed, opting to use the boots that she had worn two nights earlier.  

“Don't you ever dare call Mischa horrible again,” Alexa whispered in the unconscious girl’s ear, not caring whether Marina heard her or not.  

Five minutes later, she had found her way up the stairs to the fifth floor and made her way to the intensive care unit, and after a flirtatious joke at the bored guard, here she was, staring at the interior of the hospital closet.  

The clear plastic bag containing a leather wallet lay on the middle shelf.  

After making sure that the wallet belonged to Mikhael - and it did, for it also contained his old UK drivers license from almost fifteen years earlier identifying him as Michael Jasper Smith - Alexa slipped it into her pocket.  She turned to face Mikhael, but before approaching him, she pulled up the medical chart by the foot of his bed, flipping through it quickly.  

The scribbles were undecipherable, but Alexa wasn’t concerned with Mikhael’s medical updates according to the staff.  She wanted only to read the surgical procedure that had been performed on him by the surgeons.  

She flipped through the section under Surgery and quickly read the notes.  The first two bullets had been removed during an earlier surgery but the third one, inflicted at the hospital two nights earlier, had dissected through his abdominal aorta.  

Prognosis was slim, Alexa thought.  He was in a coma, induced by the doctors to help with his recovery, but it also meant he was helpless against anyone else wanting to kill him for good.  She closed the file, peering at the name on the side of the folder.

According to the file, his name was Eddie Bellamy.    

Alexa walked towards Mikhael’s bedside and reached out to touch his scarred cheek.  His skin was cool to the touch, yet his chest rose and fell, matching the rhythm of the ventilator.  It was strange touching him like this now, she thought, when two days earlier, she had fled from his touch, every instinct in her body screaming at her to fight him for he was the monster in her dreams, coming back to take her with him.

Alexa touched his hand, bringing her fingers around his, squeezing them as she leaned closer to him.  She turned to look at the guard again but he was talking to a young nurse, his head bent low against her ear.  She looked back at Mikhael again.  She didn’t have enough time.

The memories flooded into her mind and Alexa closed her eyes as she saw them one by one, this time beginning from the moment she’d first seen him at the outdoor Paris market as she took her time selecting a trinket from one of the stalls.  She remembered how he’d looked at her then, at first with a sense of awe and then pity at what he was about to do later that day.  

The memory that followed took Alexa into the dim recess of the truck as it sped through the outskirts of Paris, where three other girls lay on the floor next to her.  One by one men took them roughly, their screams inaudible through their gags.  When the man she’d met at the outdoor market approached, Alexa remembered how her whole body trembled as he half dragged, half carried her to the farthest corner of the truck, away from everyone else.  

And when he spoke in a harsh whisper, Alexa could still remember how his perfect English left her baffled, caught by surprise even as all around her, the other men, speaking in Russian, raped the other women, the sounds of their muffled cries filling the air.  

What’s about to happen to you after tonight is going to be far worse than what you’re about to go through right now.  Mikhael covered her mouth with his hand as he continued, his body covering hers as she struggled against him.  But if you want to live, Alexa George, work with me and I’ll get you out of this mess the best way I can without killing us both.  Do you understand what I just said?

It was then that Alexa had made her decision, even as the girls around her screamed against their abductors, the sound of a palm coming in contact with a girl’s face filling the dank air inside the truck.  

Forcing herself back to the present, Alexa let go of his hand, gently smoothing out the intravenous line across his wrist, and turned towards the door.  She stopped just as she touched the door knob and looked back at him one last time.

There was so much she wanted to say to him.  But Alexa only smiled sadly as she took a deep breath and opened the door to let herself out.  

It did not matter now whether her handler was alive or not to see her through what she was about to do.  

The only thing that mattered now was that Alexa did not fail.

>>><<<

As she made her way to the closest Underground station, Alexa stumbled, her body slamming against the wall and for a moment, she collected herself, aware that people had stopped to ask her if she was alright.  Sweat gathered upon her brow as she nodded, hugging the black jacket she had slipped off its hook along the fourth floor lockers tightly about her.  Her vision clouded for a moment and she blinked, forcing herself to focus on one particular spot on the ground.

She forced herself to breathe in long, calm breaths, exhaling from her mouth as visions filled her mind.  They were rushing in, she thought, cold panic filling every cell of her body.  

Behind her, two men stopped where they stood, pretending to read the headlines of the newspapers that lined the newsstand right next to them, their eyes warily watching her.  

A few seconds later the moment passed, and Alexa took a deep breath and began walking briskly, matching the pace of the people around her, blending in with them as they made their way to the train platform.  She needed to disappear and she needed to do it fast.

Behind her, the two men who had slowed their pace now sped up, weaving through the crowd of people.  With their dark jackets, they looked like any one of the men around them, heading for work.  But Alexa had seen them from the corner of her eyes just seconds earlier, moments after she’d allowed the panic to pass.  

She recognized the bulge on the side of one of the men’s jackets, saw the dark metal of the gun snug in its holster.  She knew that whoever they were, they were on their own now that they were now in the Underground.  There would be no reception for their phones or wires down here.  

But there was someone else as well, Alexa thought.  A third person had followed from the hospital and was walking a few meters behind her.

As the doors to the train opened and the passengers disembarked, Alexa made her way into one of the cars and stood just across from the doors, keeping her eyes forward as one of the men entered the same car she was in and sat down on a seat at the far end of the car, while the other stood against the window of the car behind her. 

The third one sat right across from Alexa, on one of the seats right by the doors.  For a brief moment, their eyes met. 

Alexa knew she only had one chance to lose them, and she couldn’t make any more mistakes.  For her life, up to now, had been nothing but mistakes.

But as she leaned against the metal pole, watching the doors close, Alexa’s eyes alighted upon a little boy standing just outside the doors and her heart caught in her chest as she realized how wrong she was.  

For there was one thing in her life that had never been a mistake at all.  And for that Alexa was grateful. 

>>><<<

Lucas was signing the last of the paperwork in front of the headmaster when his phone beeped.  He looked up, apologized briefly and answered the call.  He frowned as he listened to Harry on the other end of the line.  Lucas glanced at Liam, who was sitting on the oversized chair next to him, his feet hanging above the floor.  He was engrossed in a story book, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Are you sure it’s her?” Lucas asked, keeping his voice low, and as he listened to Harry’s voice on the other line, he signed his name on the last line of the last page of the thick document before him and dated it.  “We’re just about done here, Harry.  We’ll head over to the Grid as soon as possible.”

As he hung up, the headmaster, Norman Jones, pulled the paperwork towards him.  He checked through the forms, ensuring that every line he had marked with a small neon Post-It note with the words ‘Sign Here’  were all signed and dated.  He’d almost used up an entire packet, he told himself as he checked meticulously through each page.

He looked up at Lucas again, noting the man’s features and how the child sitting next to him was his exact copy - blue eyes, black hair, even the way he bit his lip as he concentrated on something he was reading before him - the same way Lucas had chewed on his lower lip as he signed all the forms before him.

Why Norman was doing this when what Lucas needed the most was a solicitor, one who specialized in children’s law, was something even Norman had asked himself.  But when an old university friend as powerful as Harry Pearce requested a favor, Norman knew better than to ask any questions.  

After all, it had been Harry who had requested Norman’s assistance in getting Liam into St. Barnabas more than a year ago.  In the beginning he could not understand Harry’s reasoning, for even Norman thought the boy was too young to be enrolled at St. Barnabas even though there were children his own age, but Norman knew enough to keep quiet.  

It was fortunate that the boy had adapted quite well at the school, his amiable personality garnering him friends immediately.  But after Norman learned that the boy hadn’t had a significant father figure in his life other than the seldom-available Harry Pearce, Norman realized that St. Barnabas was the perfect place for the boy to be at this time.  

The boy thrived at St. Barnabas, and even Norman had been loathe to admit that Liam George was one of his favorite charges.  

But now this stranger had come forward, claiming to be Liam’s father.  He’d been working out of the country for almost eight years, he said.  But that was all he was willing to divulge that morning.  His main concern was to sign the documents that would signify to any legal entity in the United Kingdom who he was to the little boy.  

And so Lucas North was Liam’s father, Norman thought as he finalized the last of the signatures and nodded towards Lucas.  Norman wondered if the man was some random man Alexa had slept with in the past, maybe one of the johns she had entertained during her unfortunate time in Russia.  

It was none of Norman’s business to entertain such thoughts, but he could not help it.  After all, Alexa was the face of Found Hope, which also happened to be one of St. Barnabas most generous benefactors.  And though he knew that people did talk about her behind her back, Alexa never paid them any mind.

Norman would do anything for the woman who, if reports were to be believed, had endured six months of being a sex slave in Moscow but instead of hiding her past, had gone ahead and begun a foundation to help others less fortunate than herself. 

He remembered how the news of Found Hope's involvement in St. Barnabas had initially made some parents nervous, as if afraid that their own children would be tainted by such an association.  He'd even had three parents withdraw their own children, moving them to other boarding schools in the area.  

But Alexa was also Harry's god daughter, and that was good enough for Norman.  Her father was a former ambassador, he thought, and even governor for something that involved nuclear technology.  

But this man was an enigma, Norman thought as he watched Lucas cap the pen and push the papers towards him.  How could one be away from his own child for eight straight years?  The thought of prison crossed Norman's mind as the tattoo on Lucas' right arm was visible as he signed the papers, having shrugged off his coat at the door.    

Norman nodded as he collected the paperwork and slipped it into a manila folder.  “Everything seems to be in order, Mr. North,” he said as he watched Lucas get up from his chair.  

The man was tall, almost lanky, Norman observed, his face drawn and pale, as if he’d spent too long cooped up inside some office.  Yet he did not look like some desk clerk.  Despite the man’s wiry frame, he seemed coiled, ready to attack at the first sign of a threat against him or anyone he loved.  And his eyes, Norman saw, were a cool blue when he wanted to be secretive, just as he wanted he to be right now.

Prison then?  Norman concluded, but as Lucas met his eyes when they shook hands, something in the depths of his eyes told Norman that it couldn't possibly be prison.  The man was no criminal.  

Lucas North was one of Harry’s men, Norman realized.  He was a spook.  No wonder Harry wanted all this done quickly and quietly.  Yet there was something in him that Norman thought almost tragic.  

His eyes told a story, Norman thought.

And for now, it was a sad tale seeking a happy ending.