Word count: 3895

Part I

They first meet in Paris, under the Eiffel Tower, while Percy's on a mission there.

Annabeth (though of course Percy doesn't know that's her name yet) shows up almost out of nowhere and settles by his side as he watches the crowd, casing the place – his target is supposed to have a meeting in a few hours in a café nearby – and in retrospect, maybe that should have been warning enough that she wasn't just a mere American tourist passionate about architecture.

"Did you know that they used to send signals from the top of the Tower to the French troops during World War 1? It is truly fascinating. The amount of work necessary to do that… Well, let's just say I have a profound admiration for the people who made it possible," she says, and it is so bewildering that someone would think to start a conversation this way that Percy just stands there, stunned.

Her knows there are protocols for this kind of thing – his mission was just (possibly) disrupted by an unknown agent, he should relocate and at least try to find her intentions, but the woman just looks harmless in her white dress and gold sandals that he doesn't quite know how to react. The last thing he wants is to be reprimanded another time for over-reacting (in his defense, the man had been armed, but he had also only been reaching for his cellphone) and make a scene in the middle of a mission.

But still – she may be a pretty woman, but Percy is on a very important mission (he's not sure the after of the world depends on it being successful, but that probably wouldn't be too far off), and so he has to be professional.

That doesn't mean he can't choose to use the easy way.

"I didn't know that, no," he finally answers, turning to face her. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

She looks startled. "I'm Ally. From the tour?" She gestures at a group of people taking pictures a few feet away from them. "I thought I had gotten everyone's name, but I got here a little late so I must have missed yours…" She bites her lips, looking sheepish.

Percy relaxes, drawing his hand back from the weapon he's hiding underneath his jacket. "Actually," he starts with an apologetic smile, "I'm not from the tour. I came here on my own." Belatedly, he adds his cover name. "Peter Jones. It's a pleasure to meet you though."

Peter is the name of the alias he uses in European countries when he needs to be openly American. It's the cover he uses the most, and as such it is one of his bests.

They shake hands somewhat awkwardly after 'Ally' apologizes for her mistake, and somehow Percy ends up spending the next half an hour following her and her group around, listening vaguely to the tour's guide voice – he tends to go on rants that Percy entirely tunes out, but most of the facts he gives are very interesting – and conversing with his new acquaintance.

'Ally' doesn't say much about herself – which really should have been clue number two – but she doesn't pry into his business either, so Percy lets it go, figuring they'll never meet again anyway. He'll be gone once his mission is complete; she'll go back to wherever she came from, and probably never think of him again.

In the end, Percy has to excuse himself when he sees his target sit down in a sunny terrace. With a flash of panic, he realizes that he isn't nearly as ready for this as he should have been, and he feigns an urgent call he has to take to leave 'Ally' and her group behind.

He's supposed to wait for the transaction to take place – his intel is pretty thin on that part, so he's also supposed to get as much as he can on everyone and everything involved - and identify the package he's supposed to intercept.

The last time he had a mission with parameters so vague he nearly ended up causing an international incident that was only avoided because Thalia, who had then been his partner, had pretended to have a seizure, allowing them to escape.

He really hopes this one will go better, and so far there's thankfully no sign of trouble. It seems like Lady Luck is for once, on his side.

Percy apparently got there just in time – his target is already at a table, sipping at a cup of coffee, a silver briefcase by his side, and from the looks of it he's about to be joined by another man, blond where the first has dark brown hair, and much shorter than his companion to be.

Crossing his fingers, Percy sets his equipment to record everything being said at the café as well as everything he can see from his vantage point, and prepares to intercept the briefcase he just learned contains diamonds used to fund some obscure part of the criminal underworld.

(Percy used to keep track of that kind of thing, but he had quickly realized that it was just depressing when he, personally, couldn't do much about it and so now he just did his best to get as much information back to HQ as he could. It only mostly worked, but it did also appease his conscience, so Percy was satisfied with this deal he had made with himself.

Of course, that didn't stop him from requesting to be part of operations dealing with those 'obscure parts of the criminal worlds' when he could.)

Percy's halfway across the street when the first man, the one who just sold the diamonds, leaves, and as much as he'd like to pursue him too, he can only hope that whatever information he got from the exchange the man had with his client will be enough to eventually get him arrested too.

While they don't know much yet about the man leaving, they certainly already have enough on his client, and the French police will be paying him a visit very soon, but they can't find the diamonds there – his boss had expressly told Percy so, explaining that whatever the package contained would most likely be linked to several other affairs they had in progress, and so couldn't be stuck in France for months if not years – which is why Percy's here.

Percy's plan is to wait for the blond to leave, quietly follow him, and replace the briefcase by a fake. Seeing as the French police – if they do their job right – should be waiting for him at his hotel room, Percy doubts the man will ever have the time to check, but still, he luckily has a briefcase that should hold up to a short inspection. The color is not quite right, but it should do its job for as long as it has to.

He doesn't have to wait for long. Barely five minutes after his colleague left, the second man gets up as well and heads for the streets.

The man is clever, clearly expecting the crowd of tourists in the vicinity of the Tower to hide him. Unfortunately for him though, he's dressed in a suit that is evidently of better make than the clothes most people around him wear, and that makes him stand out more than Percy thinks the man expected.

The crowd will work in Percy's favor though, since the spy thought to wear casual clothes, and it actually already is making his job easier – he doubts that his target will be able to spot him like this, a tourist amidst so many others.

Still, Percy knows better than to rejoice now. He makes sure to stay a few steps behind his target, walking only slightly faster than the man does so as to slowly decrease the distance between them, and prepares for the moment when he'll have to make a run for it.

It all goes very fast from there – and, unexpectedly enough, very wrong. He blinks and suddenly his target's on the ground, appearing to have tripped.

It doesn't take Percy long to figure out that this isn't what has happened: somebody walked right into the blond, tripped him and grabbed the briefcase Percy was supposed to steal. It all went very smoothly, and if the situation wasn't so dire, Percy would almost be impressed by how professional it all was.

As it is though, he simply swears under his breath and takes off running after his thief, following the curly and long blond hair bobbing in and out of sight until he can no longer see it.

He's almost lost hope of sighting the thief again – he must look like a lunatic too, hopping around, trying to get a better look at the place and people, but that can't really be helped – when he spots 'Ally', almost on the other side of the esplanade.

Somehow, she's staring right at him.

There's something about familiar about her now however, something Percy hadn't noticed before, and he only realizes what it is when he starts heading out her way.

She's hanging onto a very familiar briefcase he now knows only too well, and she must see the change in his demeanor as he figures this out, because she smiles at him, something bright and mischievous, showing far too many teeth, salutes him mockingly, and vanishes back into the crowd.

Percy has little hope of finding her by following her now, empty-handed as he is. She's clearly a professional and so he'll definitely need to use every resource he has access to if he wants to track her down.

He retreats, seething, back to his hotel room, aware that his last chance of completing his mission now lies on whatever information he'll be able to find about this 'Ally'.

.x.

He forwards all his recordings back to HQ before he packs his equipment and drops everything he won't need in his hotel room.

His computer helpfully informs him that the group 'Ally' claimed to be part of is scheduled to spend the day around the Eiffel Tower – it makes sense, Percy thinks, since the queue to go up that thing is so long, to set aside a lot of time for it – and from there finding them only takes him a handful of minutes.

He's already requested access to the surveillance run around the area, but by the time he gets them Percy knows chances are his thief will be long gone. Besides, he's never been one to sit around twiddling his thumbs, and who knows? Maybe his little trip will prove fruitful.

It isn't like he can do much else anyway.

The tourists he tracks down unsurprisingly claim to know nothing of the woman he presents as 'Ally' for a lack of a better name – he's now pretty sure that was a fake one and he's a bit offended, but then again his name's not really Peter either so…

"It happens," the guide shrugs when he hears Percy berates himself that he should have known she hadn't actually been part of the group. "We don't like it any more than you do, but there's not much we can do about it either…" He sounds wholly unconcerned, and Percy envies his attitude. However, he doesn't have the luxury of accepting things so quickly.

The tourists are reluctant to help him at first, but once he reassures them that there will be no pursuits of any kind, that there should be no legal stuff and that he'll give back everything the way it was, they're pretty quick to offer their cameras for him to review.

Percy didn't think to bring his computer with him, but he clearly should have, since the small table he's requisitioned in a nearby café is now covered in every kind of cameras one can find on the market, including some so old Percy didn't even realize they could still work.

Fortunately, the group counts among his numbers a skinny guy named Guy, who seeing his struggle, immediately offers to lend Percy his own computer, batting away the bewilderment of his companions with a simple "Well, you can never know when it'll be useful".

Percy doesn't care much for his reasons, but he gratefully accepts and downloads everyone's videos and photographs from the day on it, and sends them to his email address. He erases everything afterward (it wouldn't do for a civilian to be able to contact him so easily), and quickly gives back everything he borrowed to their respective owners, apologizing for the inconvenience.

"You're kidding, right?" Lydia, a plump woman owner of a slightly used pink digital camera, exclaims.

"This is the most fun we've had all week," adds her twin with a smirk, grabbing her own camera from the table.

"It's just like in the movie," finishes Lydia, and then the two women are off, their shoulders shaking with laughter.

Percy spends the rest of the afternoon back in his hotel room, shifting through his newly acquired files, occasionally sending a longing glance toward his open window and the blue sky he can spot from his bed, cursing 'Ally' for fooling him and himself for letting himself be fooled all the while.

Finally, just as the heat of the day starts to simmer down, Percy has managed to compile a new folder containing a few photos of his blonde thief, as well as a short video where she steps right in front of the camera as it starts to record, giving Percy the clearest shot of her face he's got.

Most of the pictures are blurry – professional photographers these people were not – but he sends them to the technicians anyway, along with the video, knowing they'll be able to do more with them than he could ever hope for.

He prints a screenshot of the video, and starts to review the video footage he's finally been sent as he waits for the lab's results on what he just sent them. It shouldn't take them long to find something – they know how time sensitive those missions often are and so their equipment is suitably efficient – but Percy finds himself antsy anyway as he watches hundreds of strangers wander in the Champ-de-Mars.

'Ally' is very good. She's clearly seen the cameras and tries to avoid them, but no one can do that entirely, and while he can't say he spots her face in any of the video files he's been sent, he remembers the way she dressed and walked, and her hair is distinctive enough that he can follow her without much trouble to an hotel he estimates is about half an hour on foot away from his.

The video shows her getting in, but not getting out.

Finally, some luck, he thinks as he logs out, grabs his jacket and the picture he printed earlier, and heads out.

It's late enough that most people have cleared from the streets but still early enough that the streetlights aren't turned on, and Percy has no trouble hailing a cab to get him where he wants to go.

Ten minutes later and a handful of euros later, he's standing in front of a hotel that looks like it has seen better days. The sign hangs a bit crooked above the entrance, but he can't say he's really surprised by this choice.

The place looks inconspicuous enough, but the reception is welcoming enough, and the staff is eager to greet him, first in French and then, when he corrects them, in an English far better than most of what he's heard so far during his mission.

"And what can we go for you?" The woman manning the front desk asks him with a smile. The tag on her top reads Alice in shiny black letters. "I'm afraid most of our single rooms are taken, but we do still have a couple free…"

"Ah," Percy answers apologetically, "unfortunately I'm not here for a room. I'm, err, here looking for someone?" He adds, almost questioningly when Alice just arches an eyebrow at him.

Her entire demeanor changes at those words. She closes off, and in a clipped tone instructs him to leave as soon as he can, because she can't help him.

He can see why his thief chose this place.

Percy has another ace up his sleeve however. Thalia, when they were partners, had been astonished to see that it worked the first time she had seen him use it and had called it an unfair advantage (Percy had personally thought that she had just been jealous his seductions skills worked better than hers), but by the end of their partnership she had just mocked him for it.

See, Percy knew how to be charming when he wanted to be, and his training at the CIA had only helped him practice this skill. The fact that he was also rather handsome – his mother said pretty but Percy really preferred handsome – only helped him in this kind of thing.

"It's not what you think," he starts with a self-conscious smile, making sure to act like he's almost ashamed to be here. "There's this girl, you see, and we met earlier and I think we really had a connection…"

The woman looks highly unimpressed by his tale, but she has stopped trying to get him out, so Percy counts it as a win.

"She gave me this address, you see, told me to meet her there tonight you see, and I know I'm a bit late, but the traffic was pretty bad, and I'd really appreciate if you could, you know tell her I'm here?"

He shows her a piece of paper with the hotel's address on it, grateful now more than ever that he had to write it for his taxi driver who couldn't understand his accent. She finally softens at his words and relaxes, moving toward the register, clearly buying into his story at least a little.

"Does this mysterious girl happen to have left you a name too, or a room number?" She inquires with an almost taunting smirk.

"Well, she told me her name was Ally, but I do happen to have a picture of her," he shots back with a wink, unfolding and then smoothing said picture on the desk in front of her.

Her eyes lit up in recognition at both the name and the picture, but he knows better than to take it as confirmation that Ally is indeed her name.

"Unfortunately, Miss Ally has already left. I'm afraid you've just missed her. I guess you must have made quite an impression," she adds, almost pityingly.

Wait, what? How could she have left? The traffic cameras had clearly shown that she had entered this hotel and hadn't left it – he had been checking them on his phone the entire time he had been in the car getting there, and no one had exited the building since he had entered it.

It doesn't make sense – Alice has to be lying. Only she doesn't look like it. She seems to believe his story, and while she doesn't exactly appear to feel sorry for him, she also doesn't present any of the usual signs of lying he's been trained to notice.

"I…" Percy starts, at a loss. "Maybe she left me a note?"

"Don't get your hopes up, but I'll check. Stay here." She goes to a back room, and return a few minutes later, a white note held in her hands. She looks pleasantly surprised as she hands it to him.

"Well, I guess you did make something of an impression then."

Percy smiles but doesn't reply otherwise, focusing his attention on the note.

It clearly came from this hotel – its name is written on the top of the page, which appears to have been ripped from a small notebook of some kind – and it's not signed. Not exactly.

That's alright. He doesn't need a signature, as nice as it would have been. Not when the only words she wrote are 'Better luck next time' above a pencil drawing of the Eiffel Tower.

"Will that be all?" Alice's voice draws him out of his thoughts, and from her tone Percy can gather that this is not the first time she asks this of him.

He's strongly inclined to say yes, go back to his hotel and look for what he's missed, but something holds him back… "Actually, yes. Could you please point me to your restroom?"

The woman sighs, but five minutes later another employee, this one named Roger, escorts him further inside the building.

"I won't be long," Percy promises with a wink as he ducks inside.

Fortunately, the room has a window large enough for him to wiggle through, and soon enough Percy uses the key he lifted from Roger's pockets to open the door to what must have been Ally's room.

The place is indeed empty, and looks to have been swept clean, probably by the woman herself rather than by any employee of the hotel – Percy doubts he's ever seen a hotel room this clean before outside of magazines.

He doesn't exactly know what's he's looking for – another note maybe, a sign, some piece of evidence left behind. Something. Anything.

He's fast but efficient, leaving no place unchecked, but he's on a timer – no way Roger will believe he needs more than a dozen minutes alone in the restroom – and he can't be found here.

He feels oddly relieved at finding nothing, and attributes it to the lure of the game – he actually was starting and would hate for it to end so soon – but he is mostly disappointed. Finding some clue would have been helpful.

He gets back to Roger with barely a few seconds to spare. The man knocks on the door just as Percy closes the window, and opens it to find the spy washing his hands with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, didn't notice the time."

Roger grunts and escorts him back outside, and then Percy is on his way back to his own hotel.

He opts to walk back, since he's no longer in such a hurry. The weather's rather nice, he'll be gone tomorrow, and he has no doubt his thief has already left the country. There's not much else he can do from here, except fill in his mission report, and he's in no hurry to do that.

His phone pings in his pocket when he's about halfway there, and when Percy pulls it out and opens the message he's been sent he finds his mystery woman's face staring back at him from an Interpol Wanted poster.

It figures.

Apparently Annabeth Chase (Percy is only remotely happy to find that he was right to believe her name wasn't Ally), age 27, is an international thief and art dealer. The file doesn't have much else on her, and Percy is not surprised. He may not have spent a lot of time with her, but he can tell she's a professional.

Honestly, he thinks she'd have made a good agent.

He's still clutching her note when he gets back in his hotel room.

'Better luck next time', hn, he muses. Bring it on.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face that night.