Spies, Lies, and the Darkness Inside

by Tanya Reed

After several years, I've found the binder I'd written this story in. Now, I can finally post the end! This story was actually written in 2007 as my Nanowrimo project for that year. It came about because my friend Roxy had a story idea that she wanted me to write. She challenged me to fill in a what she felt was a big blank left by the show. She wanted to know why, when Sydney and Derek ended amicably in "Transformations", there was so much friction in "Legend of the Lost". Why did Derek feel the need to kidnap Nigel instead of asking for help? Was the adventure mentioned really the one in "Transformations"? This story takes place between those two episodes and it attempts to answer Roxy's questions.

I'm going to try to go through the eight chapters that are up and correct the grammar and scene separation mistakes. (Since the story was originally posted, there was an update that made all of the old scene separators not work anymore. I have no idea why.)

Anyway, if you've been waiting years for me to get back to this story, sorry it's taken so long. If you're a new reader, well, I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Relic Hunter or any of its characters. This story is for enjoyment only.

XXX

Richard Watson sat staring through beautifully stained glass, his eyes absently taking in the lush greenery beyond. The window, one of several artistically designed pieces, was the focal point of his elaborate white kitchen. It still amazed Richard that the glass had survived. In fact, he was surprised that anything in the villa had survived the recent violence it had been through.

Not so long before, this place had been cracked and broken—much like Richard felt himself sometimes. Painstakingly, he had cleaned up the debris and fixed what the rebels had left behind. They had tried to eradicate any trace of Arthur Stanton from the place, but Richard could still feel him in the walls and in the floor. If Stanton's blood had been used to make the mortar, his presence couldn't have been stronger.

Richard's eyes left the window to stare at the tiles beneath his feet, elegant tiles, colored mosaics arranged in patterns that showed their former owner's idea of beauty. He liked Stanton's style but wished even less of it had survived. That way, maybe he wouldn't feel like such an interloper. In his mind, he knew the place had been abandoned and, after it was looted, no one cared what happened to it. That didn't stop him from feeling like a thief.

He frowned and scuffed one foot over the tile. He was not supposed to care about things like right and wrong anymore. He was supposed to be just a tool. Someone had recently shown him how easily he had come to accept that and had opened his eyes to how much he had changed.

Thoughts of her wiped the frown from his face. He lifted his gaze to stare at the small cylinder sitting on his sideboard. He still didn't know what he was going to do with it, but she had been right. It was too dangerous to allow it to fall into the hands of any one government.

She had been right about a lot of things. As a matter of fact, that was the reason he had taken Stanton's villa for his own.

A sudden soft creak floated to his ears in the stillness of the old villa. The house made many noises, and this one was so slight that it was almost unnoticeable.

He was on his feet in an instant, moving across the room to take the scroll in his hand. He held it tightly for a moment before opening the cupboard above his head and shoving it inside.

He was back in his seat, cool and unwinded, when the face appeared in the kitchen doorway. It was a young face, maybe thirty, and pretty despite its rather pointed chin and slightly larger than normal nose. Dark hair surrounded a tanned face and wide dark eyes. She looked like somebody's little sister.

"Hello," Richard said easily. "I've been wondering when you'd come."

"Hello, Derek," she answered, coming in the rest of the way. She seated herself across from him, in the only other chair, without his asking.

He regarded her for a moment before saying, "My name is Richard Watson. Derek was my partner."

"Richard Watson is dead." When he didn't reply, she continued. "It's a shame. His mother and sisters were devastated."

Anger bubbled up from his belly. "You told them I was dead?"

She frowned. "It would have been a good idea, but no."

Richard's stomach had clenched, but it relaxed slightly at this. The one thing he feared about what he did for a living was not death; it was knowing how his death would affect his family. In his relief, he let his face fall into a mask and his voice harden.

"What do you want? Why have you come?"

"Why do you think I've come?"

Her mask was as good as his. Her eyes were like black pits, taking in the light and giving back nothing. Even though she was so young, Richard saw in her what he never wanted to see in himself.

"It's about my resignation, isn't it?"

"There is no resignation. We cannot accept resignations from dead men. And we certainly can't accept resignations from you. No one leaves the company. What happened to the scrolls?"

Richard blinked at the abrupt change in subject, but he kept his face expressionless.

"We didn't find the dark one, and the light one was lost."

"We brought Turley in for questioning. We know you have the scrolls. If your plan is to use Stanton's lab and make use of..."

"I don't have the scrolls."

Her face stilled even more. "You gave them to the relic hunter, didn't you?"

"Turley lied. We did not find the dark scroll. The other was lost. It was stolen by the rebels."

She stared at him coolly for several moments. "If you're lying..."

"I'm not. All I want is an early retirement so I can stay here and fix the place up. I'm thinking I might be able to make a life here."

"Impossible. We own you. You're ours."

A soft smile twitched the corner of Richard's lip. "Is that so?"

"Do you know what a man's greatest assets and his greatest weaknesses are?" Her eyes bored into his. "We do."

Richard clenched both his hand and his teeth. He barely controlled the urge to lash out at the woman sitting so calmly across from him. Her message came through loud and clear.

"What do you want?"

"You are a good agent, Derek," she raised a hand when he opened his mouth to speak, "and we're reluctant to lose you. We need you, and we want you. And we need and want you to be Derek Lloyd."

"I..."

"You've been added to the Green List. You know what that means."

Of course he did. It meant more dangerous and complicated missions. It meant a jump in both security and resources. Many agents lived for that jump and everything that came with it.

"Derek Lloyd has no family," she continued. "Family is a weakness for a man on the Green List. It is a way for him to be blackmailed and manipulated. Derek Lloyd must live, so Richard Watson must die."

He grinned a joyless grin, baring his teeth at her. "And you know how easily that weakness can be exploited, don't you?"

She didn't acknowledge this. Instead, she bent down to retrieve the case she had left resting against the table leg.

"Feel free to keep the house. You'll need somewhere to call home. For now, though, there's something we want you to take a look at."

Watching his new dreams go up in smoke, Richard realized that he had always known they were just dreams. He pushed all thoughts of them aside as he reached for the folder the other agent was holding out to him.

He felt a slight pang as his fingers closed on it. Accepting it was accepting that Richard Watson was dead. He would never see him again, except maybe in brief visits home.

From now on, he had to be Derek Lloyd.