PS TO FANS, I realise that Skut is actually Estonian but I couldn't work out how to write the accent so made him American, I know this is a pretty bad change to the usual so I hope you don't mind.

AG

Chapter 10

When Anne stirred and woke, she saw that she was in a whitewashed room. She was alone in the cold, a thudding was occurring in her ears. She saw shapes that blurred against each other and mixed into unknown colours. There was an explosion; she remembered the fire, consuming smoke and the force of the impact throwing her around aimlessly.

But what hurt more than Anne expected was the loss that had occurred that caused her heart to ache constantly.

Anger erupted within her that she now knew well when she even thought of George, he had taken everything from her. Her father, her self-respect and now Tintin; he was obsessed with causing her pain and stealing away all happiness. The misery coursed through her at first when she realised that she was utterly alone stung worse than anything she could've possibly imagined. She wished that she stopped Tintin leaving when she had the chance; she wished that she was stronger so she could've followed them when they left. But then a determination flooded her with purpose, because she vowed that George wouldn't get away with any of it. He was going to pay, and pay dearly for what he had done to her.

Anne was aware of a presence in the room with her. The corners of her eyes gave her a blurred figure that she decided to quickly speak to. If only to confirm what she saw so it wasn't some elaborate nightmare. "He's gone, isn't he."

She saw the shadow nod solemnly. It was enough for her to cry again but that would help nobody. Instead the determination returned, absorbing her with the glorious feeling of a mission at hand – one she had to complete at all costs.

"Then I'll have to get him back." She confirmed to mostly her own disorientated mind.

She lifted herself slightly and felt an aching pressure on her back. It felt raw and she hissed loudly at the pain that made her eyes water.

"Please, Miss Poart, don't rush yourself." The voice was strangely kind and bright in the dim and drab ward. When she looked at the owner she couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in suspicion.

The man was unusually dressed in a long green trench-coat with shining black buttons. On his knees he held an umbrella and wore sensible dark slacks underneath the coat. His small shoes shone brightly and his eyes were large in his small spectacles hanging just past the bridge of his nose. His dark hair was a mess around his ears although he was completely bald upon the top of his head; he was skinny in build and was older than Anne first thought at her initial glance. A long, straight beard came down from his nose, almost completely covering his mouth.

Anne looked sternly at him, she was filled with anger still and she slurred the words out of her mouth in annoyance. "Do I know you?"

The man nodded gratefully. "I am quite well, thank you, Miss Poart. But I doubt that this is no time for petty small talk, a comrade is in danger."

Anne looked directly into the man's eyes, contempt clearly shown. "I don't need help thanks."

"Excuse me? I do not need to use the lavatory, but thank you for the offer." The man looked at Anne as if she was mad, and for a moment she feared she might be.

Then another man came into the room, he was the complete opposite of the other with an eye patch and bright blonde hair. He had an extensive muscular body that might've been enough for him to be a professional bodybuilder. His scars were clear and deep against the light; he was aged but younger than the dark haired man that Anne was speaking to.

"Calculus, what are you doing?" the man demanded, his accent was distinctively American.

The man named Calculus shook his head. "I am enlisting the help of this young lady, Scut. She is a friend of Tintin, is she not?"

Anne started, staring at the two men. "You know Tintin?"

"Yeah." Scut said stepping towards the bed where Anne lay angrily, shoving a finger towards her. "And before you say he isn't a killer like everyone says. He sacrificed himself to that maniac so a thousand Englishmen could live, and don't forget it."

"How could I ever forget Tintin?" Anne closed her eyes. "He's saved my life more than just once, he doesn't just kill people. I guess I know that now."

Skut for a moment looked to both her and the elder. Then, once the smug look on the other man's face faded, looked to Calculus in exasperation. "Thanks for tellin' me you found her."

"Anne Poart," Calculus said, ignoring his comrade. "My name is Professor Cuthbert Calculus of Oxford University. I am considered a genius in many fields of nuclear, astronomical and other such physics-"

"Calculus, enough with the qualifications, we don't have the time."

"-and I have come to find you and ask you for your help."

Anne swallowed dryly to avoid the guilt ridden tears that were bound to flow, still avoiding the Professor's gaze. "Haven't I helped enough?"

"What're you talking about?" Skut asked. "You're Tintin's friend, you're the reason he's alive and kickin'. You saved his life when he got poisoned by a goddamn bullet and you're tellin' me that you've done enough? Don't you care that he's somewhere, anywhere, gettin' killed right now or-"

"Of course I care! I've always cared!" Anne yelled a little loudly, but she didn't care. She was suddenly embarrassed and didn't know why she said the words she did because she didn't want to feel like that towards Tintin. Not so soon. Would they read between the lines? She hoped not because Anne could feel the tears in her eyes completely blind her from the men around her. She blinked carefully and slowly to rid herself quickly from the saltiness and utter sadness in her eyes, she hated how they stared at her. With pity she didn't deserve; pity she didn't want.

Calculus and Skut exchanged a look she didn't even want to acknowledge, she was too angry at herself. At her idiotic weakness. Anne looked away as Skut crouched down near her, forcing his blue eyes right into her brown. He had the look of a soldier who had seen war, and she only saw that look on one other.

"If you really care." He said quietly and harshly. "Then you'll join us."

"And what are you?" Anne turned to face him, his eyes narrowed.

But it was Calculus who answered. "We are the people who believe that Tintin is innocent. We're his friends who are coming together to find him – to bring him home."

Home. Anne remembered what it felt like, to feel safe and not care about the troubles of the world within four walls. She saw her father and mother but pushed the thoughts away before they would consume her again with the idea. The idea of safety and having a place to call home.

"Also to find the bastard George." Skut whispered darkly. "Make him pay for what he's done to so many."

Anne suppressed a smile, it was becoming possible. They could find him; they would find Tintin and get him out. Then she would find her beloved husband – and put a bullet in his hateful head. Her voice was shaking with anger, adrenaline and cruel justice. "What has George done so far?"

"Nothing. He hasn't asked for ransom of Tintin or killed anymore people. In fact he's told us he isn't doing any deals until he talks to you."

Anne nodded slowly and with understanding. It made sense that he would do that – he liked playing games with her and enjoyed taunting. It caused shivers to crawl up her spine. "I'll try to get Tintin back. This has never been anything to do with him. It's just between him and me."

Skut lowered his head. "You'll talk to him first; then we'll see if going solo against him is really an option."

Anne nodded. But she didn't want anybody else to get involved. Nobody else needed to die just because of her; Tintin definitely would go home and she would make that right. Then she would kill George. At any cost.

She went into a car that kept driving and driving through London with her companions. The roads looked like the same pavements and streets over and over. It was a strange sensation that she could see normal people going about their normal lives. Anne knew what it felt like once, to be so plain, ordinary and innocent from the terror she had seen in the past few months. She contemplated where she would be without Tintin – dead surely and without knowing what it felt like to be cared for. To have someone other than her father who wanted to look after her, it felt nice to have someone like that. But she wondered if it was mostly pity for her, because she had learned after all the agony and pain that she was truly a shallow person.

Anne felt her father's eyes bore into her after thinking about how shamed he would be but she didn't feel pain from them anymore. She had mourned him, but felt that she couldn't anymore; the tears were dry and the sobs were completely silent. It was strange; it felt worse than grief, because Anne wondered if she was a terrible person for not crying for him. He deserved a daughter much better than her – in life and in death.

The world changed into countryside quicker than Anne ever saw. The trees lined the single road they drove on, bushes with dotted colours of where flowers peaked out. Farms and animals grazing in fields where the smog filled London terraced houses and shops once stood. It all felt like a universe apart from each other, everything that had caused her misery was a lifetime away. She breathed in the air for what felt like the first time, resting her head upon the window. Anne took in the atmosphere she once knew and felt calm for the first time in a long while – but she wasn't safe.

She never felt safe anymore without Tintin.

"How can he do this?" Anne asked quietly.

Skut looked up questioningly, Calculus snored contentedly.

"In – what – a few days he's got a goddamn army on his side? He freely kills hundreds, maybe thousands of innocent people and nobody does anything?"

"You think he did all this in days?" Skut said, leaning forward to be closer to her. "The man's been planning since you beat him in Iceland, planning something big. He's made the entire country afraid of him, afraid of Tintin."

"But what does he want? If it was to kill me he would've done it, wouldn't he? He had the chance but just didn't do it. Why?"

Skut shrugged. "That's the million dollar question, honey. Maybe he still needs you for something, Tintin too. The guy's too smart to leave loose ends."

Anne nodded. She tried to think of what else he would want, but his entire existence seemed to revolve over causing her unbearable pain. Maybe that's all he wants; to torture her without even touching her. It sounded like something he would do.

They came to a stop before a large country manor house; it was separate from the rest of the world, surrounded by a few guards at the entrance to the building. It was exquisite in the classic Victorian style, windows on one side of the home with at least twenty rooms. The home had room for decoration, but was neglected in some ways and so dead flowers lay in the outside flower beds and on the window sills. Although it needed a few touches, it wasn't completely run-down, the windows were clean and the closed curtains that Anne could see didn't have moth-bitten holes shown noticeably. She hadn't seen such a house since her own home at Poart Manor; it felt like a lifetime ago that she had last gone there. Anne wondered for a brief moment if it would eventually become hers, perhaps it was already a torn down mess waiting for construction of council flats.

Calculus woke and led the way holding a small golden ball on the end of a string. Anne was about to question this when Skut interrupted, touching her shoulder lightly.

"Don't ask." He said lightly. "Just - don't ask."

She had begun to trust his judgement concerning their mad Professor.

They had entered the grand double front doors when Anne truly saw the operation that the men had spoken of. A smartly dressed butler came to greet the men, asking them politely of their journey and then turned to Anne with slight amusement on his face. "Welcome, Miss Anne Poart, to Marlinspike Hall."

The front hall had artillery stored in the remote corners of the room, stored in boxes clearly labelled with gun makes and types that she had only heard of in films and news reports. She could hear the house alive with activity when she saw men rushing around and converging into one room that she could only assume was the dining hall. Anne could see the stairs before her were dusty but were trampled down by a few men anxious to find Calculus and Skut; their words were drowned out in moments when Anne realised that she wasn't standing in a manor house. She was standing in a fort. A base with one objective – to find and rescue Tintin.

Anne didn't know what she expected from this gathering of Tintin's friends that he'd made over the last few years, but it was never close to this. She was overwhelmed with what she was involved in and was unsure if she would be a worthwhile part in it, she felt too intimidated. Small compared with the others who somehow seemed so strong and powerful in such a daunting place, Anne couldn't understand it at all. But she had her own agenda away from theirs; finding Tintin was a joint effort, killing George was her own objective.

She followed the other men into the dining room to see maps of London and many were gathered around her. They all wore distrustful, serious looks on their faces as they looked to the intruder. As they glared to the only female they had seen in many hardworking hours, days even, for some; Calculus and Skut presented themselves proudly.

Anne felt outnumbered and too out of place for words. Yet Skut and the Professor didn't seem to notice this and announced 'the success of another mission'. She felt as if she were a slab of meat thrown out a window with no safety net into a pit of bloodthirsty lions and it caused shivers to cascade up and down her spine. There was an awkward silence where she stood among the men; she imagined what they might think of her. She didn't care what they thought of her.

One of them spoke up their thoughts, his accent was strongly Spanish. He was a skinny man but seemed like he would be capable in a brawl, his eyes were brown as was his hair and skin. He seemed very plain compared with others; but Anne would've guessed that he was Spanish before he spoke. "What've you done now, Prof? Getting little girls to join us? I know there is no many of us, but gettin' kids to fight for us-"

"As I recall," Calculus spoke up, causing the man to shirk slightly at his bitter words. "Tintin was as young as she when he saved you from getting executed in Mexico, Señor Hesiplino?"

"He had skill! She never hold a gun, or even fight with another!"

The Professor rolled his eyes. "Again you say that she's a fool before you even know her!"

"You a fool for no hearing aid!"

"I wish Tintin had stayed as much as any of us do. But that is not what is needed at this time, sir, we need strategy."

"Enough," Skut intercepted, before the Spaniard could respond. "This is no random girl, this is Anne Poart. We all know what she did for Tintin, and we all know why she's here, so get over it."

They all stared now in disbelief as well as distrust. Anne almost saw envy and pity in some of their eyes and it unnerved her as they judged her with their hungry eyes. Even Hesiplino looked strangely at her, as if her presence caused someone to punch him in the face.

"What I did for Tintin?" Anne asked sarcastically; Skut turned to face her. She felt those barriers collapse when she spoke, her voice breaking at her shame and self-loathing. "I'm the reason he's gone, the only person who could've stopped George, I just… I'm… weak."

"Weak?" Calculus questioned, turning and looked at her with a glint in his eyes. "May I ask how you came to such a conclusion?"

"I let Tintin get taken by a psychopathic mass murderer!"

"Yeah but you were the only one to go back for him. You're probably the only reason he's still alive." Skut argued calmly with a slight smile.

"How would you know? I should've-"

"Do not think of what you should've done, because it's already happened." The Professor was firm and annoyed in his tone. Anne was silent immediately lowering her head in slight shame of questioning him and acting so foolish. She realised that she was childish compared to these veterans, and knew deep down that he was right. She was wrong and she hated how she was wining like the little girl Anne was.

Skut stole the silence the room was filled with, placing his hands on a table and leaned on them. He concentrated fully on the map that was pinned down on there, a map of London. "To bring everyone up to speed, I'm gonna go through the message we got sent again. 'Cos we need everyone to know the stakes.

"At 6am this morning the Professor and I intercepted a communication that George sent out for us to find. It went like this:" Skut picked up a transcript that he read with no pauses; he had read or thought it a lot over the last few hours. "I know that you want to attack me, but we both know that you have no idea where I am and you probably won't find out anytime soon. Unfortunately I have the same problem in finding you and your insignificant troop. So to avoid a boring stalemate I propose an agreement – but I shall only discuss the details with my wife, she is currently at a facility which is crawling with the police. You get her to talk to me and I'll consider letting Tintin go free reasonably unscathed."

She walked then. Out the door and away from the insanity around her; because she refused to believe it. George was sadistic and beyond insanity; he did have Tintin, even though of the unlikely possibility that she liked to entertain that he had got away. She was aware of what she needed to go to save a life but was unsure if he was truly worth it. After all, Tintin had told her a pretty big lie that wasn't easily forgiven. Yet now she was willing, like the others in that room, to risk her life to save him? Anne could see her heart break apart again into a million tiny specks, because she ruined yet another good man. Her track record of men was becoming worse and worse as time went on but this time it actually wasn't her fault. It was the worst lie because he had told her what she wanted to hear rather what was needed. That was bad, that was worse than bad, it was unforgivable, wasn't it? She was confused, disorientated and angry at her own weakness – she was already going to help Tintin after he had basically betrayed her. Why was she doing this?

Anne found herself far away from the manor. It was still in sight as she turned back to it, still thinking about Tintin. It was closer than she expected and she wished that she had gone further. But this was good enough because of the quiet around her. She sat on a stone bench, pondering what exactly she should do.

She was conflicted. She felt like everything was ripping inside her because this was no simple problem to be solved with logic or brawn. Anne wanted to scream and cry and yell at how stupid it all was; but she didn't. Because this was something that she just needed to understand, somehow she desperately needed to know the answer.

She hated Tintin. She had good reason to, he had lied to her, betrayed her. He had given Anne false hope and screamed at her that her father was dead rather than being the gentlemen that he usually was. She didn't want to be told like that; she hated how he had reacted. How he was so angry and destructive when forced into a corner. It was like he was a rabid dog let out a cage, charging at anything that would've been easy prey.

But the more she thought about it… it was more like she wanted to hate him rather than actually feeling as such. It was as if Anne needed a shred of pride and decided to extract it from Tintin by him saying the lie that her father was alive. Secretly she knew that he did it with selfless intentions and didn't really realise as such until it was too late. She could never really hate him, as she thought about it; she just didn't know what to do. Anne needed to be mad at someone, something, anything – and Tintin was right in the way. He was who she converged on and she had no right to. But that question still echoed inside her, that decision that would change everything. To stay and find Tintin so they could start over, give him another chance; or to leave and never speak of him or anything else again.

Was she capable to forget everything that had happened in the past few months because of her pride? Was it really worth so much that she could just forsake all that Tintin had done for her?

Anne snapped out of her deep thoughts when movement was apparent next to her. She didn't look up, but the green trench coat flapping in the light breeze was more than a clue. Calculus sat beside her on the bench with his umbrella still near him, resting on the side of the stone.

"Ah," he sighed, taking a deep breath of fresh air into his lungs. "I do like this spot. Perfect for a bit of quiet thinking."

She looked up to him. The man's eyes were kind and wise of the world, Anne needed to talk to somebody. She thought that the Professor wouldn't be able to hear half the things she said, that was mostly why Anne decided talking to him would be better than anybody else.

"I shouldn't have done that." She began honestly. "Running out, I mean. It just proves to them that I am a winey little..." she couldn't finish.

There was a short pause; the Professor came close to her, leaning slightly inwards. "I don't agree with them much." Calculus whispered, as if it was a secret. "In my opinion they're much more winey than you, Miss Anne, if it's any consolation. They always talk to me as if I'm too deaf; they ask constantly if I know where my hearing aid is. I doubt also that you did nothing purposefully; the bomb would have, after all, killed you and young Snowy."

"Snowy! Is he…?"

"No, he's quite well." the Professor insisted, raising his wrinkled hand. "In fact he's quite eager for your return. He owes you his life."

Anne felt both eyes sting with salty tears and her chest constrict with sickening guilt. "What use is a dog when Tintin's out there? He's probably dead or being tortured or probably something worse."

"Ah but you forget, this is Snowy. A Tintin tracker, if you will, he will find the boy faster than anybody else. You shouldn't worry, my dear, he's been in far more trouble than this."

Anne shook her head. "You didn't see him. He was bleeding and-"

"Please, Miss Anne." The old man said, lifting his arm again to silence her. "I was only saying as such to comfort myself and you. I do not wish to hear of his most recent… condition."

Anne saw him covered in blood and the horror of the gore filled place enveloped her mind in hate and fear. She tried to rid the image of Tintin but couldn't, it was haunting her just as her father was stalking her. "It's my fault." She admitted. "It's my fault that Tintin's been taken, that my father is dead, that all these people are dead. It's all because of me opening Pandora's Box."

"Perhaps." Calculus mused. "So maybe this is an opportunity for you to do something about it, make things right."

"But I'm not Tintin – he would do all this and more, but that's just who he is. I'm not like that; I haven't fought in wars or even know how to use a gun. I'm not a heroine."

The Professor smiled. "We can teach you such things. If you can help us then we can get Tintin out and hopefully capture George in the process."

Anne felt excited and eager when she thought of having George in her grasp, a jerk from him getting a broken neck, a pull for his skull to be crushed... "Just capture?" she said what she thought before she could retrieve the words.

"Of course." Calculus raised a suspicious eyebrow. "For police interrogation, what do you suggest as an alternative?"

She imagined tightening her own hands around his throat and felt a wave of oozing pleasure emit from her stomach. Vengeance was sweeter than any other feeling she had encountered, even though it was rare, it gave her complete bliss. Anne wanted more than anything to find Tintin and rescue him; but somewhere at the top of her desires was to kill that thing that was her husband. Once she was weak enough to fall for him, then she failed to murder him when the chance was right before her. The third time she wouldn't make such petty mistakes. Anne's nostrils flared and her teeth gritted in the loathing she felt caress her, she didn't resist it. But she did try to hide it from the wise man before her, because he would realise what she was pondering.

To say such monstrosities out loud would be foolish, so instead she shrugged innocently. "I don't know."

"Tintin isn't dead yet, Anne," Calculus held out his hand for her to take. "He needs all of us to help him because he helped us."

Anne didn't take it at once, but she did look at it suspiciously and swallowed nervously. "I don't know if I'm ready."

The Professor blinked, revealing kindness in his wisdom, his hand still outstretched. "I think you were ready when you agreed to come with me and Skut in that hospital. I think you underestimate your own abilities because you can do this. And I think that Tintin would agree."

Her eyes watered slightly at the very mention, but she didn't let the tears flow because she didn't need them. That would be weakness she wouldn't show to anyone anymore because she wasn't a child. She wasn't a silly little girl who was incapable of understanding and enacting minimal tasks. She wasn't a woman who knew of how to spend money and nothing else – Anne was better than that but she needed to prove it. To the world. To herself. To Tintin.

With a sunken heart in her chest, she took the old man's hand. Praying that with it the promise of seeing Tintin alive again would be certain.