It had happened so quickly. One little misjudgment and now she was down on the ground, different parts of her body screaming out in pain and trying to get her attention.
"Damn you, Neal Caffrey," Alex wanted to shout, maybe in a vain hope that it would drown out the pain from her body. She tried to compose herself, the jump, or rather fall, from the second floor of the Christian VIIIs palace at Amalienborg had been pretty high, and with no conveniently placed shrubbery she had absorbed the force of the landing all on herself. She tried to make mental contact with her hurting limbs. Move fingers: check. Move the toes: check. It only took her a few moments to realize that most of the pain came from her left side. With the help of her hands she managed to pull herself up towards the wall, but when she tried to stand up she was forced to accept that something was seriously wrong with her leg. She patted down her thighs and calves, but thankfully couldn't feel any broken bones. No, the pain seemed to originate from her knee.
She probably didn't have much time. Even if she hadn't noticed an alarm signal, the guard that had stumbled upon them must have alerted the rest of the security forces, and probably the police as well. This was after all a royal palace that they had broken into. Neal had disappeared and she was sure that he had been able to get his hands on the music box. It was all so typical. It was her grandfather that had told her about the special amber music box, it was her who had suggested going after it, and it was her who had traced it to Copenhagen. Now she was the one sitting on the ground in the darkness, while Neal was probably already on his way out of the country. She tried again to rise, and managed to stand up. Good, even if the pain radiating out from her knee almost knocked her down again. If she could stand on the leg she would probably be able to limp away from the scene. Slowly she managed to move away from the site of her – not so graceful – landing. Every time she put the left leg down she felt a fresh jolt of pain. Still, she tried to convince herself, that as long as the leg didn't collapse under her it couldn't be so. At least that was what she told herself while she tried to reachthe street outside the palace properties.
She was still astonished that she hadn't heard an alarm. Maybe, she thought glumly, they were looking for the thief that had run the other way; after all he was now the one with the music box. She leaned towards one of the trees surrounding the small patch of grass outside the palace. A royal guard in his signature bearskin cap turned around a corner and walked in her direction. She hoped that he wouldn't notice the state of her clothes, and instead tried to look like any young woman, fiddling with her phone, maybe trying to send a message to a friend or a lover. Alex also knew from experience that most people were reluctant to suspect a young woman for any kind of serious crimes. Throughout the years she had used that to her advantage more than a few times.
The guard passed her, and she made small sigh of relief. The odds of getting away grew better by the minute. Thankfully Amalienborg was situated in the centre of the city; if she could only get to the traffic-packed street close to the waterfront she could take a taxi to the train station. It wasn't too late to catch the night train to Berlin, and from Berlin she could easily reach any place in Europe. She had to admit to herself that she would probably have to find someone that could take a look at her knee, but it would feel better to do it somewhere else, in a country where she hadn't just broken into the royal family's palace for example.
If only the pain went away, then she would be able to think on more important things, but for now she had to simply concentrate on getting away. She could feel the adrenaline curse trough her body, fueled as much by her pain as by her anger. Yes, she would find Neal, and she would get hold of the music box. He had had no right to take it for himself. They had had a deal and the music box was her inheritance. She had been wrong to trust Neal She should have known it, but just the thought of being able to finally get the box had made her throw caution to the wind. So maybe she deserved what had happened to her. No, she shook that thought away; she did not deserve this pain. She was a good thief and a good fence. Even Neal had admitted that he would not have been able to find the music box without her. In fact he wouldn't even have known about the music box in the first place if she hadn't told him about it.
Well Neal might have had the upper hand at the moment, but the race for the music box was not over. One day she would stand there, opening the box, finally having the key to the treasure that her grandfather had talked about. That thought was enough to help her, not exactly hide but at least mask the worst of the pain as she sat down in the backseat of the taxi that pulled up in front of her. Until then, well at least she wasn't totally empty handed, she still had the little golden angel safely tucked in the breast pocket of her jacket. That was a piece she would never part with, a little piece of the amber music box that was only hers.