A/N: Thank you to my reviewers for last chapter: Tigress2929, Really Cinderella, Caranath (Like you, I honestly thought she would ask to speak to him but she just refused...!), Lovepink, Ealasaid Una, MarvelAsh, supernaturalsam (thanks lol), the. vulture, and leyapearl. I can't tell you how much I appreciate getting your thoughts and reactions!
Enjoy if you can!
Nancy felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. For a moment, she found herself unable to say anything at all. She sat, frozen, her hand clenched around the phone as the Gray Man continued to talk into her ear.
"I'm very sorry, Nancy. Our medical team is doing the very best they can for him. They say it's likely he'll wake up in the next twenty-four hours."
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Nancy said, her voice coming out as a croak.
"You wouldn't have believed me."
He was right again. And even though her instincts were telling her that the Gray Man was telling the truth about the situation, she knew she still wouldn't believe him completely unless she was able to talk to Frank... an option which was being conveniently denied to her.
The thought struck her that she should ask to talk to Joe, but she quickly dismissed it. If she couldn't trust herself to identify Frank, she certainly couldn't trust herself to identify Joe, especially over the phone. And if she should happen to be connected with real Joe... what could she say to him? Hers and Frank's mission had nearly gotten him and Frank both killed, and Vanessa was still in mortal danger. If it had just been Joe who was endangered, then she could apologize to him. But endangering Frank and Vanessa as well—that wasn't the kind of thing Joe would easily forgive.
What was worse: even if Joe didn't forgive her, he would be afraid for her. If she had to listen to Joe Hardy tell her to be careful, that he was worried about her, she knew she'd break down and cry, and falling apart was the one thing she couldn't allow herself to do. Not now.
"And-" Nancy forced herself to press on, despite feeling panic beginning to creep up on her. "And assuming that I do decide to believe you, what would you want me to do? About the fake?"
"Nancy," the Gray Man said, and his voice was dark and grave. "It is absolutely vital that the Assassins do not get their hands on the package. I cannot state this enough."
"Safety of the free world in my hands. Check." Nancy tried to joke, but it came out in strangled tones. "Can't you just have the contact give us a fake package?"
"That's what we'll have to do." Gray said seriously. "However, if the imposter realizes that he's been given the wrong information, you could be in danger. He might try to use you as a hostage, or worse. You must continue to act like you don't know any of this. Make him think you suspect nothing."
Nancy took in a shaky breath. "Easier said than done."
"I know." said the Gray Man. "But I think you can do it. I may not know anything about you besides a few notes in your dossier file, but I know Frank very well. You must be an exceptionally talented and resourceful woman to have gained his high esteem. And for what it's worth, Nancy, I'm sorry this happened to you both."
"Me too." Nancy whispered as the call disconnected. She stared at the phone in her palm for a long moment before switching it to silent mode and slipping it into the pocket of her robe. She was officially keeping secrets now.
Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach as she looked at the glass balcony doors and contemplated the prospect of going back inside and lying down next to... Frank.
Or whoever he was.
It wasn't fair that she had to doubt him like this, that these blissful memories they'd been accumulating for the past few days were tainted, illegitimate. Even if everything the Gray Man told her turned out to be an elaborate lie, how could she ever think of their wedding, the reception, the flight to Egypt, their first nights in the honeymoon suite... Now that she was questioning their legitimacy, they would always leave a sour taste in her mouth.
And now she had to go back inside and act like nothing was wrong, like she wasn't climbing back into bed with a man she was no longer sure she could trust. Sitting on an empty balcony in a foreign country, with her friends and family miles and miles away and her husband asleep in the next room, she suddenly felt very, very alone.
She took a deep, fortifying breath and wiped away the tears that had begun to accumulate on her eyelashes. There was nothing to do now but be alert and be careful. If the man in her bed wasn't the true Frank, he would show himself eventually, and she would know when he did.
She slipped back through the sliding door. The break in the curtains let a sliver of bright moonlight fall across the bed, illuminating her husband's lean body. She willed herself to stay calm as she shed the robe and quickly donned a pair of shorts and a tank top before resettling herself between the sheets.
It was the only concession she allowed herself that she might be sleeping with a stranger.
When Nancy awoke the next morning she was alone in bed, as had come to be usual over the course of the trip. Frank was sitting on the other side of the room, a guidebook in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He looked over at her when she stirred. "Good morning, Nan."
"Hey." Nancy replied, sitting up and stretching. She had to refrain from staring into his face to look for clues, hints, as to whether he was the real Frank. Even though the Gray Man had told her that the Lazarus Clinic was able to make perfectly matched copies of its targets, she couldn't help but think that there must be something they overlooked, something that she would be able to see. "You're up early again!" she complained. "You're making me feel like such a lazybones." If he noticed that she had acquired pajamas sometime between going to bed and waking up, he said nothing.
He chuckled in that way that always made her smile... but not today. "Well, lazybones, there's coffee here if you want it."
"Thanks, hon." For a fleeting second Nancy was sure he had poisoned the coffee he was offering her. But that was crazy. Even if he wasn't the real Frank, he would have no reason to kill her now, would he?
If she was going to question every word he said and fear every move he made, the next few days were going to be a very long honeymoon.
"Earth to Nancy..."
Startled, Nancy shot a wide-eyed look at her companion, the man she was becoming more and more certain wasn't Frank every minute. "Sorry. Yes?" They were tucked into a corner booth at the Cafe Isis, a little cafe in Old Cairo that they had visited and liked on their last trip to Egypt.
"I said, do you know what you're going to order?" he repeated.
"Oh!" Nancy said vaguely. She looked down at the menu, which was still in Arabic and still as undecipherable as it had been the first time she'd looked. She ran her finger down the list of dishes until she spotted a word that looked familiar—she thought it meant 'rice'. "You're going to go with... number five. What am I getting?" Since nearly all of the dishes were foreign to them, Frank had come up with a game for choosing their food, and they'd been playing it at every meal since they'd arrived in Egypt. They would order for each other—at random, if they weren't able to read the menu. Then they would try both meals.
"You're getting... two." Frank decided. The grin that lit his face looked almost boyish, and it made Nancy's chest ache. She wondered if the real Frank would have thought of this game too, if she were here with him. The fake Frank allegedly had most of the original's memories... exactly how alike were their thoughts?
"Do you remember what we ended up eating last time we were here?" Nancy asked suddenly.
Frank shook his head. "No, not really."
"Grilled pigeon." Nancy told him with a forced smile. It was something the real Frank should have remembered, wasn't it? They'd laughed about it at the time... but the time had been forever ago. Just because he didn't remember an entree from one lunch years ago didn't mean he was a fake.
"Oh... right." Frank said, smiling himself. "I can't believe you remember all this stuff. Guess that's what makes you such a great detective..."
She kept the smile pasted on her face. Not great enough to see through you... she thought miserably.
"Hey," Frank said. He waited until she looked at him to continue, and then he placed his hand over hers on the table. "What's the matter with you today? You seem like you're a hundred miles away."
"What?" Nancy said. "Nothing." She shrugged. "I guess I'm a little tired. It took me a while to fall asleep last night, for some reason."
Which was completely true.
Frank squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, Nan. You're okay though, right? I mean, you'd tell me if anything was wrong?"
"Of course I would." Nancy said. She would have to watch herself. She'd promised the Gray Man that she would continue with the trip like nothing was wrong, and already Frank was getting suspicious. She even managed to lean in when Frank pulled her in for a kiss.
But she was relieved when the waiter arrived.
As exhausting as it was touring some of the lesser tombs and pyramids in the hot Egyptian sun on the few hours of sleep she'd managed to get, Nancy was dreading the night. She waited until Frank was in the shower to change into her pajamas and climb into bed. Then she endeavored to be asleep by the time he got out... a task more easily conceived than accomplished.
By the time the shower stopped running, she was still completely alert. She knew one thing: she couldn't let him make love to her, not tonight, not like this. Not while she had these gnawing, crippling doubts.
So she faked it.
She heard him come out of the bathroom, heard him give a little chuckle at seeing her already conked out, felt the bed sink as he settled in next to her, planting a quick kiss on her ear before returning to his own side of the bed. She heard the click of the lamp on the nightstand, and the room was plunged into darkness.
Then she lay in the dark, unmoving, for hours.
So preoccupied was she with her fears and worries that she almost didn't notice the light that brightened and faded unobtrusively in the pocket of the robe that was hanging on the door. When she finally did see it, her body stiffened reflexively. The phone.
She turned her head slowly, watching Frank's chest rise and fall until she was completely sure he was asleep. Then she crept out of bed and wrapped the robe around herself, heading out to the balcony once more.
Out of sight now, she pulled the phone from the pocket of the robe. The blinking light was indicating that she had received a text message. She opened it and saw that it was a short message. Three words.
He's awake. Call.
