This is the new addition, so I hope you like it!
It hurts to let go. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong and it makes you feel so small because it's so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it never comes back. You're left so alone that you can't explain.
-Marilyn Monroe
Q walked quietly through the darkened halls of the MI6 base, his feet padding softly across the concrete floors. He was finally heading home for the night, after a lengthy (and quite honestly, hassling) day of work and wanted nothing more than to eat his dinner, have a cuppa, and sleep. Forget the cuppa; whiskey would be better after all I went through today, he thought to himself. Q shoved his pass at the scanner rather lackadaisically and headed out the door with his hands shoved deep inside of his pockets.
The chill soon crept into his bones and he hurried down the sidewalk, eager to get home. The incident from last night left him unsettled, now that the initial feeling of excitement that came with decrypting Alexa's message had passed. In turn, he was wary of everything that moved around him in the shadows and attempted to confirm what each amorphous shape could be. Upon arriving at Farringdon Station, Q fumbled for his card momentarily before passing it through the scanner. He walked through the gates and headed down the stairs, to wait for the evening train going home. Q took a seat at his usual spot, the faded brown bench, and stared forward to ignore the noise around him. His mind was slipping in and out of different topics and attention to his surroundings soon began to drift away as he pondered on different things he had to worry about at work and at home.
The rustle of paper brought him out of his reverie and he saw the person next to him set down a receipt on their thigh. Q had only glanced for a moment but in the corner of his eye, he caught the words, "Computer Viruses: from Theory to Applications..." at the top of the receipt. His heart beat quicker and it was too much of a coincidence for those same words to appear, at the very place where he had first met her almost a year ago. It had to be only one person- Alexa.
Q stared at the woman next to him, whose face was currently being blocked by the book. He watched as she kept reading casually and he cleared his throat. "Excuse me-" he began, flinching as the words came out of his mouth. They sounded almost too loud (as did everything else) and the words rang in his ears. His body was a mess of emotions and he could not understand what he was feeling or what he was even supposed to feel.
For the first time in his life, Sherrinford Holmes was completely unsure of what to think of his predicament.
Without warning, she snapped the book shut with a simple, smart motion. Alexa set the book down on her lap and looked directly into his eyes. "Hello, Q. It's good to see you," she said, allowing herself to give him a shy, but nonetheless weary smile. Q stared at her without speaking and could only stare at her as she sat in front of him. It was as if he was mentally deciding whether this was real or not and she decided to assuage his current fears.
"Don't worry, I'm really here," she said softly. There was slight hesitation in her voice and her eyes were filled with a myriad of emotions. She looked both afraid and excited at the same time and she looked as if she wanted to say something, but no words escaped her lips after that point. Her eyes met with Q's and for a moment, there was an unspeakable look of pain in his eyes. This was the woman he loved more than anything, whom he had believed to be dead. Instead of being dead, she was sitting before his very eyes in the place where they first met. In all honesty, he felt betrayed by seeing her here today. The pain was later replaced with one of anger and although he attempted to keep his face expressionless, the anger still remained.
Q did not say a word; rather, he grabbed her by the wrist, stood up, and led her onto the train. His grip was tight around her wrist and she could feel his hand shaking slightly. Internally, he was seething, but externally, he showed little to no signs of his anger.
During their train ride, Alexa snuck a small glance at Q but was met by a cold look that discouraged her from trying again. He had not acted like she had anticipated (honestly, she expected him to say at least something), which was something that she found frightening. To her dismay, each scenario she had planned out had been discarded and she was stuck in a spot of uncertainty once again. The feelings she wished to express became caught in her throat and she said nothing, for fear of making it worse.
Alexa watched as the places whooshed past them and wondered where exactly they were going. Her eyes widened slightly upon seeing that they passed Great Portland Street Station and wondered where they could possibly be going. She averted her gaze away from Q and waited for the train to stop. Several minutes later, the jarring impact of the brakes against the wheels caused her to shift forward slightly and she glanced up quickly at the station name. Her heart sank upon seeing the words "Baker Street" and she felt worry creep into her heart. They were seeing Sherlock, so his input could either make things better or worse.
Q pulled her up and led her along with considerable force, his mouth a tight, unforgiving line against his face. His jaw was clenched and he looked as if he was fighting off the urge to shout at everyone. She remained silent as they advanced through the station and into the sidewalk. He pulled her into the flat and brought her upstairs, never letting go of her all the while. Q opened the door and stormed into the living room.
"Sherlock!" he called as he walked in. The man popped his head out of the kitchen and his brow furrowed with concern at the sight of his younger brother and especially at the sight of Alexa.
"Ah, Q. I see you found her," he said gravely. Q's temper seemed to reach its breaking point and he finally snapped, which was something Alexa had never known he was capable of doing.
"Why do you always have to be right?!" Q shouted, slamming his fist against the table.
"I'm always right, whether it's a good thing or not. Fact of life, Q," he said dryly.
"I didn't want you to be, but you saw it in her already. You knew right away what she could be hiding," he said. He was fighting hard to keep the rest of his voice under control and his fists were clenched tightly against his sides. "Why didn't you tell me anything?"
"I could have done so, but it wouldn't have been the right thing to do and you know that, Q. I had little evidence to back up my suspicions, so there was nothing I could do. She has to reveal her past eventually, and as unpleasant as this is, I suppose it'll have to be like this," he said quietly. Q was silent for several moments and Alexa's heart seemed to pound louder out of fear, the noise filling the silence that rang in her ears.
Without warning, Q headed off and pulled a chair away from the desk. He placed it at the centre of the rug and stood at the edge of the fireplace. "Sit," he said through gritted teeth.
"Why?" Alexa said softly.
"All of his clients sit there, and that's all you are," he said, attempting to keep his voice controlled.
She stared at him for the briefest of moments before taking a seat in the thin chair. Alexa watched Sherlock take a seat across from Q and they both turned their gazes directly to her. "Speak," Q said. Any previous attempt of maintaining a calm, collected composure became lost and anger became visible in his voice.
Her voice seemed to catch in her throat and she could not find the right words to say. She sat frozen, with a look of silent terror in her eyes and Q's relentless gaze did nothing to help the situation. Alexa could not speak and Sherlock realized that they would never really get anywhere if they continued with this approach. Q was too emotionally compromised (honestly, he didn't blame him) to handle the situation properly, so he would do it. He sighed and looked up at her, ready to take charge of the situation.
"Who exactly are you, Miss Abbott?" Sherlock asked.
"That's not my name. Not anymore, anyway," she said softly.
"Ah, that's right. Speaking of names, who are you today?" he said. She paused for a moment before shaking her head.
"I don't know," she mumbled, staring down at her hands that lay in her lap. Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he snatched the envelopes from under her arm. He laid out each in front of them, which were labelled with different initials and folded his arms across his chest.
"There are four different identities here, which are mostly aliases. One of them is the real one, so which is it?" Sherlock said.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "Really, I don't. With a life like mine, you're stuck in an odd limbo of never knowing who you are or who you will be next."
He merely let out a quiet hum and began thumbing through the pages of the Operation Chetiri envelope. The rustle of the pages did not do much to fill the silence and the feeling of Q's gaze on hers made her nervous. For once, she wished that she was small, a mere speck in their eyes so she could hide from Q's wrath. He clicked his tongue in disapproval as he read through the files and shook his head.
"You've kept far too many secrets over the past few years, Alexa. Care to reveal them now, to both of us?" he said.
"I would rather not," she said, giving him a tight smile that did not reach her eyes.
"You have to," Q said firmly, shooting her a glare. "You know the risks. You've played this game long enough. This time, the stakes are higher than ever and the odds don't seem to be in your favour. Therefore, I think it would be in your best interest to talk, so do it."
"Nothing is ever in my favour. It's an easy concept to grasp if people are firing bullets at you night and day," she said dryly. At the mention of her dubious occupation, Sherlock let out a sigh and shook his head.
"Of course. You just had to go and fall in love with a femme fatale, didn't you Q?" Sherlock muttered, glancing over at him.
"I wouldn't call it love. Not right now," he said. Alexa shifted uncomfortably in her seat and avoided his gaze, along with saying anything to his barbed comment.
Sherlock decidedly ignored the tension between them and leant forward, resting his elbows against his knees. "Are you with the Russians now?" he asked.
"I'm not working with anyone. I am alone, as always," she said, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. Sherlock studied her closely and folded his arms across his chest.
"Tell me, Alexa, who's been firing at you and why?" Sherlock said.
"Ah, yes. The question is always why. Easy to ask, but the answer isn't always that simple," Alexa said aloud, while attempting to think of a proper response.
"Are you stalling me, Alexa? I find that a bit childish, and I don't appreciate childish behaviour," Sherlock said, sounding mildly annoyed.
"Not at all. Just...thinking aloud, that's all," she said, an absent look in her eyes. He paused for a moment before deciding to go about this at a different angle.
"Let's try something easier. How many people have you ever killed?" he said. A startled look flashed across her face and she struggled to regain her composure.
"How is that any easier?" Alexa said, her brow furrowing in confusion. "I won't feel any more comfortable with telling you that."
"Why not? Alexa, we had to acknowledge the elephant in the room at some point," Sherlock said. Alexa was silent for a while and she looked at the window next to him before her eyes flickered back to him.
"You're 006, aren't you?" she said softly. He nodded and she clasped her hands together.
"Then you've been in the same position I've been in, haven't you, Sherlock? You've killed people before and it's not something that's easily forgotten," she said, a faraway look in her eyes.
"That doesn't answer my question," he said impatiently.
"Are you sure you really want to know?" Alexa said softly. Sherlock looked at her expectantly and she sighed.
"I'll never say. But I will tell you that many have died at my hands and also because of me. The body count for me is far higher than a regular agent's, and possibly more than 007's. There is red in my ledger, and I fear that I may never be able to wipe it out," she said quietly. Sherlock silently did the math before blinking in surprise and staring at her.
"So, why do you do this? Why do you play this game?" he asked.
"Playing this game is not a choice I made. In turn, I have to do whatever I can to protect everyone from any enemies I encounter. I see those men are threats and eliminating them means that the ones I love are safe," she said, the steely glint returning in her eyes.
"Should that be a reason to take someone's life?" he said. She blinked in surprise and she bit her lip, uncertainty running through her blood. Alexa was silent for a while before she made a mental toss of the towel.
"I don't know. I'll never know," she said softly. Alexa glanced up at him with her eyes alight with insight. "You wonder that too, don't you?"
"I don-" he began.
"I remember hearing about the Moriarty affair, and how you...chased down all of the assassins that threatened your family," she said.
"In that sense, we are alike. We always wonder if there is a legitimate reason for murder, but it all depends on the levels of our morality. It seems life and death rely on a volatile, ever-changing grey area that varies with everyone," Alexa said, smiling sadly at the thought.
"I see," he said. He looked at the wall behind her, wondering what to say, before returning his gaze to her.
"Tell me, how did you survive?" he asked.
"You've faked your death before. Surely you've got some idea," Alexa said smoothly. Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he studied her carefully.
"Q saw you jump in front of that train himself and I helped conduct your autopsy, yet you're here. That means that you must've had a proxy of some sort. You've managed to remain dead for this long, so someone must have helped you. Who was it?" he said. Alexa had watched him as he talked and she stared at him incredulously.
"They said you were a sharp one. I guess they weren't kidding," she muttered.
"Who are they?" Sherlock pressed on.
"I'm afraid I can't divulge such information. They'll probably get...vexed with me for doing so," she said frankly. Sherlock could only narrow his eyes at her and Q gave her a cold glare.
"You know where you are and who you're around, Alexa. You know what will happen if you don't answer him," Q said, speaking for the first time in a while.
"I would prefer to leave certain people out of this," she said softly.
"It can't work that way. We have to know to understand the full scope of this situation," Q argued.
"I cannot. I swore to leave them out of this. I will leave, if I have to," she said, her voice taking on a sharper edge.
"But you're not going to. You need this. You're out of options, which is why you haven't made a single attempt to escape," Sherlock said, standing up. The man loomed over her and she felt diminutive under his shadow.
"Look at you. You're barely held together, with that cold façade of yours. But the truth is, you're breaking, Alexa. You're bursting at the seams and your façades can't help you anymore. This is the end of your smoke and mirrors game and you can't hide from the truth any longer," he hissed. Her expression began to change and she sat there in silent anticipation, her hands trembling slightly. The words became caught like mush in her mouth and she sat there, listening to hear what else he had to say. However, she had a feeling that none of this was going to turn out well and she tried to suppress her fears.
"Your life is easy, you know. You can lie, steal, and kill your way through life, but you don't have to mourn, like my brother has been for nine months. You don't have wonder what happened, why it happened, and if it was all your fault," Sherlock said bitterly, his voice raising in anger. "Do you realize that, Alexa? Do you know how much pain you've caused him-"
"Stop," she said softly. The words felt like mush in her mouth and it came out a lot quieter than she had intended. He didn't hear what she had said and continued to talk fervently.
"He's been left here to mourn while you run around the world, living your life. Can you imagine how he felt? Do you realize the repercussions of your actions, Alexa-" he said angrily.
The pain and pressure was mounting and his words were echoing in her mind. They were more painful than she could imagine, piercing her heart like a knife and her heart twisted painfully upon realizing that he was right. Her body was shaking and she could not bear to hear him go on.
"Stop!" she shouted. The word had come out louder than she had intended and she drew back, afraid to say any more. She stared down at her lap to hide the tears shining in her eyes and fidgeted with her hands nervously. He had shaken her to her very core in about ninety words, a fact that unsettled her greatly. No one had done that before and it left an unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach. Miraculously, he stopped talking altogether and she let out a shuddering breath before talking again. This time, she turned directly to Q and stared into his eyes with a weary, if not somewhat broken, gaze.
"I can't begin to imagine how much pain I caused you and I'm not even sure of what you felt like after I faked my suicide. In a sense, that's a summation of how my life has been for the past nine months- full of uncertainty. I haven't been sure of anything at all, but the one and only thing I'm certain of is the fact that my life hasn't been easy either," she said quietly.
"How could you be sure?" Q replied, folding his arms across his chest.
"I..." Alexa began, her voice trailing off. She knew it hadn't been easy, but she didn't know how exactly to show him and once more, that damned feeling of uncertainty had struck again.
"Take off your coat and scarf."
Sherlock's words had seemingly appeared out of thin air and startled her, leaving her unsure of what to do. Alexa turned to Sherlock with hesitant eyes and he motioned for her to do so. She reluctantly slipped off her coat to reveal the scars that decorated her arms. There were a considerable amount of slash marks that decorated her arms, all of them of different shapes and sizes. They struck bold, criss-crossing white lines across her skin, becoming a small, yet noticeable feature of her image. She slipped off her scarf and set it on her lap to reveal the final mark, which was inscribed on her neck.
She trembled slightly as she stood before them, wondering what they could possibly thinking. Alexa thought Q's eyes showed a look of alarm, but his clenched fists and white knuckles sent her mixed messages and left her doubtful of his true emotions. Sherlock, on the other hand, noted them with mild surprise and he could not help but stare at her scarred body. He had been an agent before but he had never been battered up to this extent. He had made sure to do so, to leave little to no traces of what he had done. On the contrary, she had been carelessly risking it all for the past nine months and the scars were all she had to show for it. It was a destructive, ever-changing lifestyle that she could not escape, unless someone else intervened.
"In the course of nine months, I've nearly died three times and I've been in and out of treatment from black market physicians more times than I can count on both hands. I haven't had a full-night's sleep in a while because I've worried about if Q's okay, if he hates me, and if I'll even see him again. I've fought for nine months and this is all I have to show for it. So, if either of you think my life has been any easier, I'm afraid you're sorely mistaken," she said softly. Her strong façade was slipping away quickly and she showed them what she really was now- broken and alone.
"You can't keep living like this. Your luck's going to run out sometime, Alexa," Sherlock said.
"Why do you think I came to London?" she said dryly. Sherlock merely nodded and sat up. Sherlock knew that he would not be able to get much more out of her and looked directly at her.
"Will you answer something honestly for me, Alexa?" Sherlock said.
"Ask away," she said quietly.
"Do you truly love him? Or do you merely feel obligated to help him because you accidentally dragged him into all of this?" Sherlock said, pointing to Q. There was a pause and for the first time in months, she burst out laughing. She had no idea why she had laughed but the motion felt liberating, as if to release the stress she had felt now. However, it was not a laugh made from joy. It was a soft, quiet laugh that lacked the spark of joy most laughs were composed of and was composed of weariness instead. Her laughter was an action that took both of them by surprise and she ignored their shock by shaking her head.
"Sherlock, I wouldn't have gone through all of this trouble if I didn't," she said. The look in her eyes was enough to make him believe her; she almost looked like a child again, with the honesty that emanated from her gaze. He nodded, satisfied with her answer, and stood up.
"Wait, where are you going?" she asked.
"I'm obviously not the right person to get you to divulge anything else and Q seems a little bit less emotionally compromised right now so I suppose you can speak with him," he said crisply as he walked towards the hallway. "I'll be seeing you, Alexa."
She felt panic rising in her chest as she realized that she would be alone with him. Alexa had thought she was ready to talk with him but she suddenly felt a pang of damnably human uncertainty. The factors were too far out of her control and not knowing how Q would react terrified her. Sherlock saw the look of fear on her face that she could not hide and he merely smiled nonchalantly at her, offering little to no comfort to ease her fears. He popped out of the room and she sat there in stunned silence, wondering what would happen to them.
Alexa glanced up hesitantly (if not, a bit shyly), and found that she could not speak. The words turned to mush in her mouth and the sight of him was, oddly enough, one that left her tongue-tied. Q was equally silent and they sat there for a moment, merely looking at each other. Alexa was undoubtedly nervous about this whole situation and he made a mental note to use that fact to his advantage later on. She wrung her fingers in her lap and said the first thing that came to her mind.
"Your tie is crooked," she blurted out. There was a pause before she could register what she had said. Alexa could not believe she had said that and had to keep from physically smacking herself.
"I haven't seen you in nine months, and that's the first thing you decide to say to me?" he said, his expression an odd mixture of amusement and annoyance.
"Well, what else was I supposed to say? Ta da? Surprise, I'm not dead?" Alexa said. "Those don't seem entirely appropriate."
"It would have been better than hearing that my tie is crooked," he muttered as he adjusted the black silk tie. She fell silent and wrung her hands nervously once more. Q was looking at her directly now and she did her best to avoid his gaze.
"You could have come by earlier to the flat in Islington. It would've been easier than sending Sherlock and John," she said.
"I didn't know you were alive for nine months. Did you honestly expect me to just pop in and say hello?" Q said bitterly.
"Right. I should have expected that," she said, smiling vaguely. He mind was adrift, lost in a sea of thoughts of what she should say to him and he returned her attention to him by clearing his throat.
"I saw you die nine months ago and now, you're here. Care to tell me how you did that?" Q said. There was an unmistakeable air of coldness that hung around them and she did not know exactly what to say.
"Not particularly. But I have to tell you sometime, don't I?" she said softly as she drew her eyes away from him, in an effort to distract her racing thoughts.
"Sometime today would be nice," he said stiffly. Her shoulders seemed to droop and she seemed to concede defeat, glancing back up at him with weary eyes.
"Tell me what you want to hear," she said softly.
"All I want to hear is the truth. I just want to know why you had to leave me like this. Don't leave me in the dark about anything," he said. There was a silence from Alexa and she stared at the folders on the table.
"Before I say anything, may I ask you something?" she said.
"Go ahead," he replied.
"If I showed you the unpleasant side of my life, could you ever see me as the same person again?" she said softly as she looked up at him. He could see that her eyes were troubled and for a moment, he could see her childlike vulnerability. She was afraid that he would hate her forever if he knew her secret. Q was unsure of how to respond and he glanced back at her with an expressionless look.
"Why don't we find out?" Q said coolly. Alexa frowned and folded her arms across her chest.
"Of course you would give me an answer like that. I should have expected as much from you," she muttered. Q could see that she was obviously afraid of telling him what she had done before and he made an effort to back off a bit, so as not to make her uncomfortable, to the point where she would tell him nothing.
"Alexa, tell me what happened. I just want to know the truth and why you did all of this," he said in a quieter, less hostile tone. There was a pause before Alexa took the folder marked "AN" in her hands.
"I suppose I should start at the beginning so you understand all of this. I was born as Alexandra Zarya Nikolova in Kodino, Russia. My father was a doctor and my mother stayed home to care for me. Both of my parents worked hard in raising me and sent me to the best school they could afford. The first few years of my life were simple, and everything was good. I was naïve enough to believe that nothing bad could happen to us," she said with a smile. There was a hint of regret in her smile and she set the folder on the coffee table.
"But in 1989, during the deterioration of the Soviet Union, the government began testing children to put them on specific educational paths. It was called the track system and when I took the test, I qualified for something more...unconventional than the usual. I was brought into a government program, called Operation Chetiri," Alexa said.
"What is Operation Chetiri?" he asked. She silently pulled out the file on Operation Chetiri and handed it to him. Q quickly skimmed through its contents before returning his gaze to her.
"I suppose it would be correct to say that it was the Soviet Union's last-ditch effort to bring glory to a failing country. They named it after the number four to associate it with death, since they wanted to train children to be silent assassins, or conniving politicians, and other sorts of nasty little things like that. Their intention was to restore the Soviet Union to its former glory and they hoped that the children would be the nation's saving grace, the one thing keeping it from falling apart," she said.
"When my parents found out that I was going to be in this program, they were happy about it. They didn't know that I wasn't exactly going to an elite school like they had been told and that the program required that the children be orphaned upon entering Operation Chetiri, so as not to cause any legal problems," she said. Alexa's expression took a darker turn and her eyes flickered to the manila envelope on the table. She found that she could not speak for a moment and Q looked at her expectantly, wanting to hear the rest of her story.
"And?" he said.
"Well, everything happened very quickly. The soldiers came and killed my parents. I watched it all happen and there was nothing I could do. At first, I didn't understand what was going on and the only thing I could do was run away. I ran as fast as I could, but they still caught me," she said. The image of her father being killed was burned into her memory and her mother's piercing screams still echoed fresh in her mind. Alexa forced herself to suppress these thoughts and struggled to keep her composure.
"Anyway," she said, clearing her throat. "In the beginning of the program, there were thirty of us. We were all in the same boat, essentially; everyone was orphaned, helpless, and afraid. That mentality changed as we grew up and we had two options: fight or die. There were only a few that chose to die; by the time I was eleven, eight had already committed suicide. Those who fought for their lives did whatever they could to survive, but they all had an expiration date, so to speak. They all died somehow too. When I was seventeen, there were only two of us left and we were the ones who stooped to whatever height was necessary to live. Both of us had committed several crimes and we were both striving to be Agent Chetiri, which meant survival and, in turn, a way out alive."
"You won, didn't you?" Q said.
"I did. I went from being one of their worst to one of their best operatives but I was also the most troublesome, for that matter. They wanted to control us but I resisted and rebelled against the Agency as much as I could, without being killed. Finally, I made it to the final test where they had me assassinate a government official from Belarus. From there, I faked my death in a bombing and I did whatever I could to get as far away from Russia as possible. Eventually, I ended up finding my way to England and began a new life. For years, my life was good, until they found me," Alexa said softly. She let out a sigh and leaned back in her chair, staring at the file before letting out a soft and rueful laugh.
"Now that I think about it, surviving was rather stupid of me, really. I should have just died along with my parents that night. It would've saved me from a lot of trouble. Yet, even in the darkest of all moments, the human desire for self-preservation trumps all," she said, toying absentmindedly with the edge of the envelope.
Now that he better understood her actions, he didn't feel surprised by why she had to lie about her past. She led a complex life and wanted no one else to get involved in it. In turn, she lived under a mask of different identities and survived by those means. Although he was still more than a little angry at her for not telling him about anything for the past nine months, some of the anger had subsided since he now knew the truth.
"It's too late to regret it now, isn't it? Besides, if you died beforehand, we wouldn't have even met," Q said matter-of-factly, tentatively setting a hand on hers. She managed to give him a slight smile and nodded her head in agreement.
"You're right about that. That was a long time ago and there is nothing I can do to change the past," she said quietly, regaining her composure.
"Explain to me what the Agency does," Q said. His expression showed that he looked neither angry nor pleased with her; his face was nothing more than clear, a blank slate.
"They're the leaders of Operation Chetiri and they're the ones that want to continue the program again. I don't have their names memorized but I have them on a file in the flat," Alexa said.
"What exactly do they want with you?" he asked.
"When Volkov came to the headquarters that day, he wanted me so they could poke around in my brain and see what makes me tick, in order to make more operatives like me. I don't want anyone else to go through the hell I endured in Russia, so I faked my death and ran away to stop him," she said.
"Is that the only reason you died? Didn't you think of anything else before you chose to die?" Q said, feeling his anger slowly creeping in once more. She drew back her hand and retreated back to her own side, as if she had been burnt by fire.
"Of course I took account of other factors, Q. I had one other reason than the Agency that made me leave," she said, drawing her eyes down to her lap again.
"What was that?" he asked.
"I faked my death because I figured that if I was declared dead, then the Agency wouldn't go after you. I had to make you watch so that it would be convincing. However, I only wanted to ensure your safety and make sure that they wouldn't harm you because of me," she said quietly.
Q blinked in surprise at her response and when he looked at her now, he could sense her hesitance once more. He knew that if she was afraid, she wouldn't be able to tell him anything more in order for him to make proper judgements. Q took her hands once again and entwined his fingers with hers, in an effort to ease her growing fears.
"Alexa," Q said softly. Alexa felt the cold clamminess of his hand against hers and she could not meet his eyes.
"Alexa, look at me," he said. She hesitantly shifted her gaze to him and he saw the undeniable fear in her eyes. To be honest, he had never seen her look so afraid and he knew that if Alexa was afraid of these people, then they were truly a force to be reckoned with. Alexa opened her mouth to say something but stopped herself, as if the fleeting thought was deemed unimportant. "Y-yes?" she stuttered.
"Why must you trouble yourself with all of this, all on your own?" he said. She fell silent for a while and her shoulders seemed to slump slightly.
"I guess I've lived this kind of life for as long as I can remember and I've gotten used to always being alone, bearing my own burdens," she mumbled.
"And why did you come see me tonight, of all nights?" he said.
"I've realized that I can't live like this any longer. I've nearly died three times now and I can't protect anyone, much less myself. I've made a mess with factors I can't control on my own," Alexa said. She looked up at him with a look of hesitance in her eyes. "I need your help, Q."
Q felt that same bit of anger flare up once again, as the thought of why he should help her had now occurred to him. She was nothing more than a liar. Alexa had deceived him and hid the truth right under his nose. Anger clouded his thoughts and he could feel himself growing even more annoyed at her all over again. His annoyance stemmed not only from anger at her actions, but also at himself. He had taken the chance to fall for another woman and received nothing but deceit from it. A shadow of doubt crossed over his expression and his eyes narrowed.
"You lied to me, Alexa," Q said. His resentment was getting the best of him and his voice and temper began to rise. "You fabricated everything about your past and you've lied to me about all you are."
"I know that, but..." Alexa said, floundering helplessly for words to say.
"Alexa, your entire life is based on lies," he said fervently, blinded by his anger. He held ip the file on Operation Chetiri and set it down firmly on the table. "I know what you're capable of and I know there's a possibility you could've forged these files. How can I be sure that what you told me wasn't a lie? How can I even trust you anymore?"
Alexa sat there in silence and let out a soft sigh, staring at her hands to avoid his piercing gaze. "I know that you probably have a lot of reasons not to trust me, but I just want you to know that I'm not lying about any of this. I wouldn't have gained all of these scars or gone to all this trouble if I had lied," she said. Alexa went silent momentarily before looking up at him, with fear in her gaze.
"Look, Q, I really do need your help. It may sound strange, since I'm asking the same man I wanted to protect to help me do something dangerous, but I can't do this alone and I doubt anyone else would be willing to help me. I faked my death because I wanted you to live, unharmed by the Agency, but if I go on like this, they might threaten the lives both of us are living now. Besides, you've seen the number they've done on me. I'll be dead before I see this to the very end, if I do this alone," Alexa said quietly.
Although he was still angry at her, it was here that Q began to see the sanity in the madness that had occurred nine months ago. She had a plan and as crazy and internecine as it was, it was necessary for both of them to live and it had worked. He realized that she loved him enough to fake her death to keep him alive and that she was willing to go to such lengths, just for his safety. Q's emotions died down slowly, enough for him to think somewhat clearly, and he became was quiet for a long time before finally letting out a sigh.
"No," he finally said.
"No?" Alexa echoed blankly, feeling panic creep into her chest.
"You're asking the wrong person for help. I can barely fend off an assassin at the drop of a hat, like yesterday-" he began.
"Wait, what? Someone tried to kill you?" Alexa said, her eyes filled with worry. He paused momentarily and nodded slowly.
"They were intent on killing me, yes," he said. Alexa paused for a moment before meeting his eyes once more.
"Man or woman?" she said softly.
"Man," Q said cautiously.
"What did he look like?"
"He was far away, but I know he was blonde. He was taller, of muscular build," Q replied, going off as much as he could remember. There was a brief silence as Alexa racked her brain for a culprit before words burst forth from her lips.
"Did you happen to see a dark mark or a tattoo on his face?" she said.
"Yes," he replied, blinking in surprise. He heard her swear lightly, a displeased look making its way onto her face.
"Who was it?" he persisted.
"His name is Viktor Zielkov. He's an assassin, like me, and I've been tracking him for months now. Viktor is one of the Agency's liaisons and why he tried to kill you is something that worries me," she said. Q could see the worry brewing in her gaze and knew that she was weighing the consequences of the shooting. He was intent on telling her what his heart wanted him to say but struggled to finish his train of thought.
"The point is, Alexa, I'm incapable of it. How could I even help you?" he said. Alexa took this response as rejection (when in reality, it was only uncertainty) and she felt as if her heart had crumbled into pieces.
"Oh," she replied. She shut her eyes for a moment and let out a sigh. Disappointment flooded through her body and she could not believe that she could be so foolish. She had fallen hard for this one man and did everything she could to keep him safe, which only served to do the exact opposite. They were wrong in every way that she could see and her destructive lifestyle would destroy him, even if she didn't intend it to. Alexa stood up, with evident disappointment in her eyes, and turned away from him, hastily putting on her coat and scarf. She knew what she had to do- sever the ties that bound them, once and for all. Q realized that she had taken his response the wrong way and stood up.
"Wait a minute, Alexa," he began.
"No, no, you're right about all of this. This is a mistake," she muttered. Her logical side had kicked in now and she was ready to revert back to her fallback plan- escape. With her back still turned, she swiftly slipped on her coat and scarf. Alexa grabbed the book and the files and the small Paris postcard fell soundlessly to the floor. Q stared at it for a moment, realising that, of course Alexa had sent the cards. He stood quickly and watched as she began making her way out.
"God, this is a mess. I shouldn't have even asked. It was a stupid, reckless move," she said to herself, chastising herself as she went down.
"Alexa, wait-" Q said as he followed her down the stairs. She did not listen and threw open the door before turning back to face Q with a look of pain in her eyes.
"Forget about it, Q. Forget about me," she said. Her eyes held that same look of hopelessness in them she had shown before her alleged suicide and it was a look that chilled Q to the bone.
"How could I forget about you? You've done so much-" Q said as he grabbed her wrist, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"I've done so much, but it doesn't matter. None of it does. I don't even know who I am anymore," she said, her hands trembling slightly. "I'm sorry, you know," she said quickly.
"Why?" he said.
"I took that job at the Q-Branch even though I was fully aware of the consequences it could have. I've done what I can do to protect you but I've accomplished nothing more than endanger your life. My façade will disappear and the Agency will send men for you soon, all because of me. Hell, they've sent someone after you already, if you were attacked by that sniper yesterday. Volkov was right on that day, when he said that this was my fault. I never meant for any of this to happen, but it's all my fault. I'm sorry for everything, Q. I'm a fool, a goddamn fool," she said, letting out a bitter laugh. Her laughter was heartbreaking for her to hear and although she was looking down now, he could almost see and hear how much this was killing her. She looked up at him and her eyes were pleading, almost pained in nature.
"Forget about me. Erase me completely from that glorious mind palace of yours and be happy with someone else. Find someone sane, kind, lovely, and above all, someone whose past won't kill you. Please. I'm definitely not the one for you and it was foolish to think that I even had a chance," she said, tears shining in her eyes.
"Just always remember that I'm sorry and I love you. I don't even care what happens next. I'll still love you, even if you don't, and that's okay," Alexa said, letting out a short, bittersweet laugh.
Q sighed and laced her fingers in her hair, a gentle motion that contrasted with the turmoil he felt inside of him. "Alexa, I...I don't know what to say," he said, shaking his head.
"I don't mind. At least you know how I feel," she said. Alexa hesitated for a second before finally deciding to just lean in and kiss him, one last time. She gave him a swift, decisive kiss on the lips without saying a single word in advance to warn him about what she was doing. The kiss sent a rush through their veins that they were unable to get with anything else. It was a glorious feeling but also a bittersweet, and almost contradictory action, one that left her heart both elated and broken. Both of them knew the gravity of this kiss; it was her parting gift, before she went away from him for good. Without warning, she seemed to snap back to life and pulled away from him.
"Goodbye, Q. I love you," she whispered, before pulling away from him for the last time. Alexa turned away from Q and ran out the door. She sprinted onto the sidewalk and into the street, flagging down and running into a passing cab. Q stood on the sidewalk and merely stared at her as she climbed into the cab, feeling a sickening sensation settling in his stomach. It felt as if he was punched in the gut and that the sensations would never leave. To be honest, it was like watching her march to her death all over again. Was he really content with letting her go again? He tried to ponder this thoroughly but as much as his heart fought for him to chase after her, to hold her close to him and tell her that she would be alright, his mind triumphed.
Sherlock had come down to see the commotion and found Q standing in the doorway, staring blankly at the street. He caught a glimpse of Alexa leaving and shoved his hands in his pockets, wondering what course of action Q would take now.
"You never really left when we were talking. You heard everything, didn't you?" Q said, without looking at him.
"Every little word," Sherlock said. The two stood silently there for a moment before Sherlock turned to Q.
"Why did you let her go, Q?" he asked quietly.
"Letting her go was the best option for both of us. It keeps us both safe," he said flatly. It sounded like a dull fact that he had carefully constructed and memorized, but not truly felt.
"It may keep you both safe, but it definitely doesn't leave either of you any happier," Sherlock remarked.
"Sherlock, shut up. Don't remind me," Q muttered, his hands clenching into fists.
"No, that's exactly it, Q. You've failed her twice already: once, when you didn't just tell her that you loved her, and twice, when you willingly let her march off to her so-called suicide. Are you willing to let it happen a third time?" Sherlock said.
He glanced at his youngest brother for an answer, but no words came from his mouth. His lips made a tight line on his face and although he did not say a word, Sherlock began to see what he was thinking. Q had to choose once again, between letting her go and chasing after her to save her from herself. He did not say anything but merely shoved his hands in his coat pocket, muttered a goodbye to Sherlock, and silently headed down the sidewalk, preventing anyone (even Sherlock) from seeing what he had decided to do.
Tears streamed shamelessly down Alexa's cheeks as she rode back to the flat in Islington. Her body was racked by sobs and she curled up into a ball, to make herself smaller as she sat in the backseat of the cab. Alexa did not dare to look at him and forced herself to keep her gaze to the front. She had tried to remain emotionless earlier, but it became evident that this was impossible. Alexa could feel, if not, too much and tears could not help but escape from her eyes. It finally hit her that this was the last time she would ever see him, but definitely not the last time she would ever think of him. He would move on and she would be stuck in limbo, hung up on a man that she used to know. As the cab sped off, she sat there and told herself that this was for the greater good. This would keep him safe from her.
With shaking hands, she dialed a number on her phone and tried to calm down as the dial tone stretched on. Finally, someone picked up on the other line and she took a gulp of air, in order to speak a little more clearly."M-Mycroft? It's me. I n-need your help," she said through shaky breaths.
"Alexa, what happened?" he asked, genuine concern laced in his voice. "Are you okay-"
"No. It's n-nothing," Alexa said, choking back a sob. Mycroft paused, wondering if he should inquire any further, but decided against it.
"Alright. What did you need?"
"Get me out of London as soon as possible. That's the last th-thing I will ever ask of you. Just...get me out. Please," Alexa pleaded, trying hard to contain her emotions. She stifled a sob and her body trembled, shuddering painfully. She had to calm down, right now. Her mind would clear up as soon as she calmed down, and that was all she needed right now.
"Alright. A plane will be waiting at Heathrow for you. Where will you go?" Mycroft asked.
"Wherever Viktor Zielkov is," she said, attempting to stop her tears.
"Viktor Zielkov? Who is he?"
Alexa's body shook with silent sobs and Mycroft attempted to reign in the situation. "Alexa, try to calm down. Who is Viktor Zielkov?" he said.
It took her several moments to respond, but she was able to get ahold of herself and speak coherently. She took deep, calming breaths, and began to speak once more. "He's tied to the Agency as an assassin and he tried to kill Q last night. I have to go after him and find out why," she sniffed.
"Have you tracked him?"
"No," she said. "I just found out about it."
She heard the soft clacking of keys in the background and Mycroft did not speak for several minutes. In the meantime, the cab dropped her at the curb and she entered her home to pack her things. Alexa put her phone on speaker and cleaned up her appearance before gathering up her items. She was busy arranging her weapons into her suitcase when Mycroft spoke again.
"I checked the CCTV footage of the shooting and have confirmed that it is him. Zielkov is now on the move, to Turin. He's been contacted for a job, which is to kidnap the Iranian ambassador. Zielkov will be taking him from the annual Fiero Enziolini Gala, which starts at seven," he said.
"Turin it is," Alexa said. She had gotten control of her emotions now and was slipping back into her mask of indifference to hide her pain. At the moment, she did her best to speak objectively to Mycroft. Her mask of indifference left her heart feeling dead and hollow, as if she had lost herself somehow. Alexa closed the suitcase with a note of finality and held the phone to her ear as she went out the door and into a waiting cab at the end of the road.
"I'm leaving for Turin now," she said as she sat down in the way to Heathrow.
"This is the last I will hear from you, I'm assuming," he said.
"Yes," Alexa replied. Mycroft breathed a sigh of disapproval and she heard him shift slightly.
"Alexa, do try to be cautious. This man is a dangerous figure and I would not like to be the one responsible for sending you off to your death. Don't cock it up," he said firmly.
"None of this should matter to you anymore, but this is all I have," she said dully. "Just...if anything, don't tell Q where I've gone."
"I don't know if I can do that, Alexa," he said.
"Promise me. Please," Alexa said, sounding almost pleading. There was a pause and a rustle on the end of the line.
"I cannot promise that, Alexa. I'm sorry," he said quietly. Alexa's spirit seemed to fall and she let out a sigh.
"Then this is goodbye, Mycroft," she said softly.
"Goodbye, Alexa," Mycroft said. She heard the line click and stared out at the passing city lights. Alexa remained quiet throughout her ride and as she walked through the silent halls of the Heathrow Airport, she felt that same pang of sadness but attempted to suppress it. This was her choice; this would keep him safe. Alexa found that she did not feel sad nor disappointed anymore. She didn't really know what she was feeling, but she suspected that the fact that she was truly alone was the cause of her emotions.
The plane left the runway for Turin and she shut her eyes to prepare herself for the days ahead. She had no alliances anymore that could save her, if the situation took a turn or the worse. Alexa was truly alone now, and she had nothing to lose anymore. She had burnt her bridges, which left a foreboding feeling inside of her. The thought of dying alone without anyone knowing nor caring scared her. It was her against the Agency now, and she felt intimidated by her unknown future.
She shut the window to the plane with a notion of finality to ease her growing fears. For now, she could sleep; tomorrow, she would stand and fight whatever the Agency threw at her.
And she confronts him and fails! What will he do? Read on and find out :)