Regina woke with his warmth underneath her. She opened her eyes slowly, creating a peripheral sensation of space; lying on his chest, her right thigh over his, her arm extended over his waist. His heart was beating slowly, serene. Carefully, she jerked off, lying on his triceps and staring into his sleeping face. The handsome face with firm features. The face that accompanied her all the time, in her most random thoughts. She slid one of her fingers over the center of his chest, making a path with the tip of her nail, and he mumbled something, but he remained asleep and she laughed.

Carefully, she moved away from him. She got up from the bed, stretching her body fully aware of her nakedness. Raised her arms, feeling her muscles expanding in opposite directions. She took his shirt, and put it on, pulling the collar toward the nostrils and sighed with the aroma of his perfume. The scent that brought vivid memories to her mind; which reminded her of how he held her against his body, his warm skin scraping against hers, the stiff muscles touched roughly by his nails.

Then she walked to the kitchen on the tip of her foot. Switched on the coffeemaker, and walked to the table in the left corner of the room. She stared at the floor plan of the bank, analyzing the details, the corridors, each location; picked up the plotted plant of the tunnels from inside her bag, and set it down below, keeping them parallel. She searched the similarities - there was a way or two that crossed each other.

Regina returned to the coffeemaker and filled one of the mugs with the dark liquid. Were the ruins really a good idea? This question haunted her. Once the pendrive had been deleted, that copy plotted was what she had left. She returned to the table, and with a pen marked the meeting points with a red x. She looked at the front entrances. She had already gone through everything. It was impossible to dig the steel sheets. But if she could get into that room before the safe ... She schematized the infrared alarms on the notebook screen and calculated the distance of the ventilation. Impossible to jump from there, another possibility eliminated.

She took a deep breath before allowing another long sip of coffee to run down her windpipe. She understood something of latin, not exactly Natasha Romanoff, but she had some knowledge. She noted a symbol in the left corner of the map of the ruins. She stepped closer, gazing cautiously at the two maps. A smile flickered on her lips, and she drank the coffee, laughing. The sky is the limit, said the proverb. In her case, the ceiling. The only part of the safe that is not steel. She would not even need to do it during the day. She could spend the night over it, invade quietly, and go through the corridors of the ruins without worrying about being followed. A simple, clean, calm assault.

As if getting rid of a blackout, her eyes lit up like fireflies shining in the night. She bit her lip. Everything she needed was right there. Her plan was almost complete. She took the maps, and tucked them in her backpack. She just needed to check the ruins herself and walk the precise path she would take. Even without hurry or without the pressure of the police, chase it would be incredible easy to get lost in those various ways. She finished the coffee and took the cup to the sink.

She went back to the bedroom. Robin was still asleep, overcome by fatigue. Regina smiled, and took off her shirt. Threw the piece on the floor and walked toward the bathroom. Turning the faucet on and letting the hot water slide over her body, bringing comfort and relaxation. She closed her eyes, her hands resting against the wall. There were things to be completed, she knew it. She could not complete this work yet. Her last job. She knew what that meant. Get rid of the personna who has accompanied her for years; get rid of a personality built at great cost and care. It would take her back to her life, the one she had buried in the past and had been formidable to keep out of reach of her memories. For her unresolved issues. She could not leave as if there were nothing hanging on her heels, as if her responsibilities had been magically removed. She knew better.

The water slid gently, caressing her skin as she tried not to mumble her thoughts. She slid the soap down her body carefully, caressing, loving herself without any sexual connotations, just the pleasure of taking care of her body. The lawful pleasure of loving your own formation. She washed her hair with the same delicacy and left the bath a little more relaxed. Curled up in the towel, she crossed the room and picked up her clothes. Dressed them quietly even though she suspected Robin would not wake up anytime soon. Got ready quickly, and in less than ten minutes, she was out in the street.

She walked down the streets unconcerned, a little frightened by her new possibility of life. Walking on the streets with nothing covering her face. If the injunction of her documents was false, the police would come after her quickly and she would flee - but she had to try. But nothing happened. She was just another woman in the crowd and she wanted to cry with joy. Down the stairs to the Westminster tube station. She approached the large panel and looked for the line she had to pick up. Jubilee.

She followed the directions hanging on the yellow plates and continued her way to the waiting line. It only took seconds for the vehicle to enter the platform, and she slipped among the several men in their suits, wandering into it. She stared at the surrounding faces in their routine safety measure, then stared at the station flag. Three minutes and forty-five seconds later she arrived at Waterloo Station. Her eyes were captured covered by the drawing that the metal marked. Symmetry cold and calculated, but that brought an air of beauty to a cold and ephemeral place. She stared at the four-faced clock and analyzed her map, entering her left. There was a door hidden in the back corner of the S1 iron staircase, signposted as a fire escape.

She came in, and got off, stopping only when she reached the third landing. According to the map, it was there. She stared at the wall looking for something, but found only a fire alarm. She followed her trained instinct, and taking the penknife out of her boot, unscrewing it. There was a switch underneath it, and her eyes took a totally different glimpse. When tripped, the switch opened another door - a door literally embedded in the wall - imperceptible if it had not been opened. Her heart raced, but she remained calm.

She walked through the door, closing it behind her. Turned on the flashlight and her eyes quickly adjusted to the new beam of light. She continued walking down the now narrow corridors. The air thinned and dense, as if compressed for years in that space. The walls, full of writings in Latin; the dark floor that creaked with every step; doors and more doors, recreating the feel of the Minotaur's labyrinth. Regina looked at her map and found the door to go. Opening it, she stared only into the darkness on the other side. She could hear everything above her, the steps, the wheels of their bags, the heels, conversations, announcements.

The world could be heard all over. She wondered what the men who had built that place wanted to do with their discoveries. She questioned the value of each one's thoughts. What would we give to hear what the other thinks, what the other wants? These men had access to everything. To everyday conversations, and whispered secrets in links full of guilt and remorse. The evil plans and the romantic conversations. They watched the footsteps of humanity, and what did they accomplish with that? Possibly nothing, or those tunics would not look like the catacombs of Paris. As if mankind knew how to guide their own pace ... Possibly they must have realized how inept is the voice of humanity in its totality and they gave up listening.

She closed her eyes and bit her lips, creating even more courage to follow her journey. This part of her life needed to be finalized, completed and left in the past, but for that, she had to go until the end. She entered that door with one certainty. Whatever the outcome of that journey, she would have what she was looking for.

Somehow, she would go home.

Later that day, Belle tapped her knuckles on the door of McLocksller's office.

"Come in." She stepped into his field of vision wearing a yellow tube dress, her hair caught in a bun and her glasses over her eyes. The high heels had favored her and she looked even more pretty and confident. "You look beautiful today." He praised her and she blushed.

"Thank you." For a few seconds, she just stared at him and he returned her gaze. She was holding a brown envelope, and she looked uncertain. Robin smiled.

"Is everything alright, Miss French?"

"Yes, I..." She shrugged her shoulders in surrender. "Gold asked me to bring this to you. I think it's some provocation from him, but anyway... "

"Leave it to me. I know how to take care of myself." He held out his hand and Belle put the package there. She just stared at him again before waving sweetly and walking out the door. The blonde sighed. She did not look like the same woman who undressed him with a hallucinatory rush, but he was still trying to deal with that memory.

He turned to his table and sat down. He reached for his scotch glass and stared at the envelope without opening it. Anything that Gold put in his way would only have the purpose of disrupting it. It was some pinching, some teasing to push him in the direction he wanted. He took a long sip of his drink.

He pulled the seal from the envelope and opened it, carefully removing its contents. His eyes quickly captured her face in the first photo. Regina. But just like an avid eagle, he realized she was not alone. He noticed the clothes she was on, noticed the date, the time, and swallowed loudly, his throat had dried up in such a way that the ball of nervousness descended ripping through his vocal cords. What was she doing with Damon Salvatore again?

The restaurant did not look familiar. The photos taken from some outside point showed only Carmen Sandiego at lunch with Damon Salvatore. She was laughing, and seemed completely at ease in his company, which made Robin's stomach twitch. He remembered Damon's hands running over her body and shivers ran through his arms. He continued to leaf through the photos, watching the proximity, the exchanges of glances, the whispered conversation as they approached so that the lips became incredibly close. One of the photos was just the shadow of her face behind his, and the angle suggested what might be a kiss on the neck or that she was whispering something, but unfortunately Robin felt his body believing the first hypothesis.

He hated himself for what he felt. For all the entrancing sensations that choked him at that moment, by the exacerbated will to scream and break everything around him. But that was what Gold intended. Sending those pictures had had the mission of making him lose his temper, something he would not freely and willingly give to Eugene Gold. Try again, my dear. He mumbled, bitter.

Robin flipped through the photos, trying to keep control of his emotions. One of the photos contained Damon's hand on her hand, both on the table, and Regina did not take it out. He remained in all the photos smiling as if he were going to devour her, on that table, just as he had done with her. Keep focus. He alerted his common sense, and he forced himself to accept. He would come home and talk to her. To process and digest all that jealousy overload would only make him stressed, suspicious, and angry. He was no longer a child, he was a man and he would have to manage his feelings as such. He shoved the photos into the nearest trash can and filled the glass with more scotch. Just had to put up with it until she got home.

"I never thought I'd see you again." Laughed Damon, staring at her. He was still handsome. The inquisitive blue eyes, a red polo shirt that only favored him, his messy hair.

"I'm glad you agreed to have lunch with me, Damon." Regina smiled. It was easy for her to deal with Damon. He was flirting all the time and if there was something she was unbelievably good at, it was flirting. In the game of pull and push, give and take, open and close. Men were her favorite hobby, and manipulating them was more of a sport than a habit. All they needed to stay at her feet was the right measure of massage in their egos and the even more correct measure of indifference and contempt. A dangerous combination, however, fatal and decisive. Regina sipped her white wine and stared at him.

"Of course I'd rather see you in less clothes, but that one is also looking good."

She laughed, and he followed her. "In my defense, they are work clothes."

"You were never an architect, weren't you?" He asked, and she only confirmed his suspicions, shaking her head from side to side.

"No."

"I imagined. I was the one who did not lie that night."

She looked at him with a smile. "No lies?"

"Alright, I lied."

She laughed. "I knew it! You can not accuse me anymore!"

"My brother and I have illicit business in Europe."

"The Blood Tyx."

His eyes widened and he leaned across the table, watching her closely. "How do you know that?"

"About the drug you guys have developed that tastes like blood, and is the new doom of the young?" She had bent over and they stared at each other closely, the closeness with which they had both become acquainted after a night of torrid sex. "I'm a well-informed person, Salvatore. But still, you were too good-looking to be missed."

"Did you know about my business that night?"

She sighed. "No. I knew it later. I like to know who I got involved with."

"I thought that was unfair," he mumbled, and his eyes fixed on her lips. "You know more about me than I do about you."

"For your comfort, I also have problems with illegal deals."

He laughed. "At least we're in the same boat. A toast to that."

Regina lifted her glass and touched his. "Cheers."

They drank the liquid at the same time, filling their mouth with the mellow and sweet liquid. The refreshing, chilling sensation soon covered them. "I have a proposition for you." Her voice came calm and soft.

Damon slid his hand over hers, caressing her. She looked up and he continued to stare at her. "In your hotel or mine?"

She laughed but did not take her hand away. "As tempting as it is to have it again..." She pointed at his body without any modesty. "My proposal is about business, Damon. It's going to be risky, dangerous and a bit tiresome, but it's what you need to make your business with Stefan leverage to a new level."

What she liked best about him was his impetus, his freedom, his free way of seeing life. A handsome, determined man who risks his limits. It did not take more than a minute for him to take the rest of the remaining wine in his goblet. Then he leaned close to her. Lips close again. "How much?"

Regina leaned forward and ran down the back of his neck, pulling him to her neck and reaching his ear, where she nibbled at the earlobe and then whispered. "A million euros." She felt the nape of his neck twitch, and delighted herself with that. Ah, the effect of money - it never changed. A cold sweat, a shiver running down her spine and dying at the back of her neck. The warm tingle at the fingers, inside the fingertips. He just pulled away enough for her eyes to face his.

"Just tell me what to do. I'm in."

Outside the Skylon Restaurant, Emma photographed them. Lying on one of the pilasters, she grabbed the professional camera and took some more photos. She tugged her golden hair aside, and nodded at the brunette. Then she turned to the camera and pressed the third button, starting the backup. Seconds later, the blonde wandered off the outside porch of the restaurant and headed down the street to her car. She dialed some numbers on her cell phone. "It's Emma. I want you to take the photos I just placed on our server and send them to Eugene Gold. Yes, take any of the fake emails." She turned off the alarm and set her camera in the passenger seat, tossing the backpack into the backseat. She turned her attention to something that was said on the other end of the line. "We need to hurry. The girl will get us in trouble."

She turned off her cell phone and sped into the avenue.