Disclaimer: See part 1 -- nothing's changed!

Note: Speech within {} is in Cantonese.

Muchly thanks to Gamine and Vanessa for patiently picking out the nits and to Kahva for the suggestions and encouragement.

~*~

Peterson and Hana had both left the office, Peterson presumably to get his jaw checked over. Eric was fairly sure he hadn't done any permanent damage, but he suspected it was a convenient excuse to get out of harm's way. Not that he was complaining. Right at this moment, the less he saw of Peterson the better. On the other hand, being stuck in an office with nothing to do was not exactly his idea of a good time either.

Particularly not when faced with the impossible task of having to learn a language and be fluent in it inside three days.

Just when Eric was considering going to look for Hana and Peterson, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. A moment later and the door opened. Hana entered, carrying a dinner tray.

Eric opened his mouth to say something, but she got in first with a piece of rapid fire Cantonese. Eric could only stare in dumb horror as he realised he recognised only one word of what she'd said -- and that, the word for dinner, he only recognised because she'd waved a hand in the direction of the tray.

Hana sighed. "This is going to get us killed," she muttered in English.

"I'm not exactly wild about that idea myself," Eric retorted.

"Then I suggest you make the effort, Mr Myers," Hana answered. Then she repeated what she'd said first of all, this time slower.

"You're either telling me I can't have dinner until I've worked out what you just said," at which Hana actually cracked a smile, "or else telling me this isn't dinner, just a snack."

"I'm tempted to say it's the former, Mr Myers," Hana replied. "But it is a snack. We're going to be working very late." She handed over the tray. "How much of that did you guess?"

"Most," Eric admitted. He looked at the tray and for the first time realised how hungry he actually was. He picked up a sandwich. "So where do we start?"

Hana smiled. In slow and careful Cantonese, she said, "{Why don't we start by you telling me about yourself?}"

~*~

The two days passed by swiftly for Eric.

It was a dizzying, confusing experience that started from the second he woke up in the cramped bunk room he'd been told he could sleep in until the moment he was finally allowed to crawl back onto the solitary cot to snatch barely a couple of hours' sleep. In between times, Hana conducted briefings and lessons, chopping between Cantonese and English with such a rapidity that Eric began to lose the sense of which language he was using and when. So much so that when he was permitted a brief call home, towards the end of the second day, it was only when Kimberly said, slightly bemused, "I think you've got the wrong number," that he realised he'd either addressed her in Cantonese, or, worse, in a polyglot of English and Cantonese.

"Sorry Kim -- it's me," he said, this time fairly sure the words were English.

"Eric?!" Eric could imagine the expression on Kimberly's face. "What the hell?"

"It's a long story." Eric sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I might be able to explain some of it when I see you."

"Does that mean you'll be home soon?" Kimberly asked, sounding hopeful.

Eric winced. "I wish I knew."

"Oh." Kimberly sighed and Eric could practically hear the hope draining away. "Is there anything you can tell me?"

"Not really," he answered. "Wish I could." There was an awkward moment. "How're you guys doing?"

"We're doing OK -- Ben dropped by this morning; I think Taylor's out of town at the moment, too." Eric suspected he was liable to be seeing Taylor in the near future. "He gave me a hand with the tree. Wes and Jen are bringing Rick over in a little while -- which Alice is very excited about. I haven't got the heart to tell her that Rick's probably going to be asleep."

Eric chuckled, despite the sudden pang of homesickness and loneliness. "Let's just hope she's as fascinated by her new little brother or sister when they come along."

"She will be," said Kimberly. "In fact, she said to me this morning that she couldn't wait for the baby to be born, and could I please hurry up with it."

Eric laughed out right at that. "How is the baby?"

"Missing you, just like the rest of us," said Kimberly ruefully. "I swear, he's going to take after his dad if the way he's been kicking the last two days is anything to go by."

Eric felt the strange flash of mixed pride and awe he always got when Kimberly talked about the baby. Even having had nearly seven full months to get used to the idea, he still hadn't really managed to wrap his mind around the idea that he was going to be a father -- it still amazed him.

"How're you doing?" Kimberly continued. "Have you killed you-know-who yet?"

Eric smiled faintly. "Punched him once so far, and counting."

"Only once? I'm impressed."

"Haven't really seen him since Tuesday," Eric admitted. "Otherwise..."

It was Kimberly's turn to laugh; though Eric could hear a hard edge to it. "Well, just make sure you give him my regards too."

"I will."

Hana appeared at that moment. "{Time to go,}" she said.

"{All right -- one second,}" Eric responded.

"Eric?" Kimberly queried. "What is that?"

"Cantonese. Don't ask," he replied. "It means I have to go."

"Take care of yourself, Eric."

"I will do Kim. I'll be home as soon as I can and in once piece. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that."

Kimberly's voice sounded as if she was suspiciously close to tears as she hung up, something that reaffirmed Eric's own anger at the current situation. This was all wrong.

"{How can you promise to be home safely?}" Hana wanted to know.

Eric just looked at her. "{Because my wife worries about me more than enough as it is.}" He looked down at his hands. "Besides," he added dropping back into English, "I have to believe it, otherwise, as you said, it's going to get us killed."

Hana's eyebrows lifted. "You're probably right, Mr Myers. {This way -- we need to be going.}" She opened the office door. "{And from this point on, you speak no English.}"

"{I understand.}" Eric nodded, but inwardly he couldn't help but feel some qualms as he followed Hana out of the office.

For all his conviction to Kimberly that he'd be home in one piece, Eric was nervous. Two days was not long to learn anything -- least of all how to be fluent in a language he hadn't even thought about in five years -- and now he had to try to fool a skittish drugs baron into believing he was a native speaker. As if that wasn't enough, there was also the knowledge that if he fouled up, there were other lives at stake. So no pressure, then... He grimaced.

"{Through here,}" Hana directed, and Eric found himself in a small room that reminded him somewhat of Michael Zaskin's office at SGHQ, even down to the slightly nerdy, puppy-keen scientist -- though this scientist was tall, blonde and buff where Zaskin was strictly average height and build, and dark haired.

"Ah -- Mr..." The scientist looked down at his notes. "Mr Chen?"

Eric glanced at Hana -- was he supposed to put the guy right or nod?

"He's going to be," Hana agreed.

"Ah -- good, good. This way...does he speak English?"

"No," said Hana. "Though he understands it."

Eric gave Hana a dirty look. "{Bitch.}"

Hana smiled, sweetly. "{It's good practice.}"

"He doesn't look very friendly," commented the scientist.

"{Nor would you after the last two days,}" Eric muttered.

Hana choked. The scientist's eyebrows lifted. "What'd he say?"

"He said that he's had a long and trying week," Hana answered. "Please forgive him for not looking his best."

"Fine, fine. This way, please." Eric found himself being led into the lab that opened off the office space. "Take a seat." Eric did as he was bidden. "Now, I need for you to remove your wedding band -- we have to simulate the fact that your alter ego burned his finger prints off with acid, and we don't want to get your wedding band gummed up."

Silently, Eric slid the ring off. Hana held her hand out for it. "For safe keeping."

"{It stays with me,}" Eric retorted, slipping it into his jeans pocket.

"{It's not a good idea,}" said Hana, dropping into Cantonese. "{It can't come with you on this mission -- for the next however long it takes, you aren't married to Kimberly. That life doesn't exist.}"

"{Bitch,}" Eric repeated, this time with more feeling behind it.

"{Possibly -- but it's my job to try and make sure we both come out of this alive,}" Hana responded. "{You promised Kimberly that you'd come back in one piece. Hanging on to that ring is putting that in jeopardy.}"

"Can you have this argument later?" suggested the scientist. "Your transportation ETA is only an hour away, what I need to do takes fifteen minutes and I know you need to visit the wardrobe department here too."

Hana sighed. "For now."

Eric wasn't entirely sure who she was aiming the comment at, although he could see that the scientist had a point. He settled for a venomous glare in Hana's direction.

"Thank you," said the scientist. "Now," he said, turning to Eric, "if you can lay your hands palm up on this bench," he tapped the workbench Eric was sitting beside, "I can get to work."

Eric did as he was told and then watched with mixed fascination and a little dread as the scientist painted something onto his fingers that looked like liquid skin and felt a horrible mix of icy-cold and itchy.

"It's a special, quick drying latex foam," the scientist explained, "mixed with an adhesive. Once it dries, you won't be able to tell it's not your real skin, never mind anyone else," that Eric privately doubted, "and it will only come off with a special solvent, so you don't need to worry about it peeling off during your meetings or what have you." The scientist finished painting and then settled back. "That'll take fifteen minutes to dry off and set."

With nothing better to do, Eric watched and tried not to think about how much the substance was itching. Before his slightly incredulous gaze, the skin on his fingers turned from being roughened and hard working to something misshapen and unnaturally smooth. And, sure enough, as it finished drying, it did begin to feel natural -- and mercifully, the itching tailed off, too. At the end of the fifteen minutes, he tentatively touched the work bench and found that it really didn't feel any different -- it was almost as if there wasn't the layer of rubber coating his fingers.

"It's good stuff," said the scientist proudly.

"It certainly is," Hana agreed. To Eric, she added, "This way. We've got to get our things before our transportation arrives. {And we're going to deal with your wedding band,}" she added.

Eric gave her another look as they left the lab. "{If I can't keep it with me, you give it to the chopper pilot -- or I will.}" Hana blinked. "{If it's who I think it is, she knows me and she knows my wife. If anything happens to me, she'll be able to give it to Kim.}"

Hana grunted. "{That makes sense,}" she allowed. "{In here,}" she added, directing Eric into yet another room in the Knightsbridge centre.

This one was one that would have put the costume department of the latest Hollywood blockbuster to shame. Eric could only stare in mixed amazement and horror.

"Mr Chen?" Another assistant popped up at their entrance and Eric submitted to the same rigmarole as with the scientist -- of speaking no English but understanding it.

He found himself being led through the racks of clothing by the assistant -- a perky blonde who would have given Barbie at her most nerve-grating a serious run for her money -- who seemingly handed him items of clothing at random.

"The changing rooms are through there," she finally indicated.

Eric went through and started to get changed. It was only when he went to pull on the pants of the suit she'd handed him that he realised this wasn't just off the rack stuff, this was all high class designer label. Spying really does pay well, huh? he found himself thing before he could clamp down on the frivolous thought.

The clothing all fit well -- almost as if it had been made to measure. Given what Peterson seemed to know about him, maybe it had been. A sharply cut black suit, black silk tie, white shirt, black Italian leather shoes -- for a second, Eric didn't recognise himself in the mirror. He really did look the part.

"{Finished?}" Hana was back.

"{Yes.}" Eric picked up the disputed wedding band and slipped it into the pants pocket then exited the changing cubicle.

Hana was standing there in a black dress that appeared to have been painted on to judge from the way it clung to her. Her hair was neatly pinned up in a very stylish twist with what looked like a pair of midnight-black chopsticks, while at her throat was a set of glittering stones that looked suspiciously like diamonds. At her feet was a bag -- Eric presumed it contained some changes of clothing for them both.

"{Leave your other clothes there. Naomi will take care of them,}" Hana directed. "{And you look almost authentic.}"

"{Almost?}"

For a response, Hana snapped her fingers. Naomi -- if that was the assistant's name -- reappeared with a pot of hair gel. Before Eric could truly process that, he found himself backed into a seat and 'styled'. Hana seemed to be amused by the process, as she handed him a pair of designer sunglasses.

"{One other thing,}" she said. "{You need to be carrying a weapon or two.}"

Another snap of Hana's fingers and Naomi retreated with the hair gel to return a moment later with an assortment of guns and knives.

"{How many of these are you wanting me to carry?}" Eric asked.

"{You need a gun,}" said Hana. "{Beyond that, whatever suits you -- I presume you do know how to use a handgun?}"

Eric ignored her last comment and selected a nine millimetre pistol from the array, along with a spare ammunition clip and a shoulder holster -- not his preferred holster type, but far more convenient for wearing with a suit. He slipped his jacket off, put on the holster, fitted the gun into it and replaced his jacket. Hana nodded approvingly. After a glance over the knives, he selected a small dagger that could be easily concealed.

On seeing Hana's raised eyebrows, he smiled faintly. "{Like you're not carrying something hidden somewhere they're not gonna look?}"

"Touché," she agreed. "Thanks Naomi. Think we're done here."

"My pleasure, Hana," Naomi answered smiling. "And if you ever want to bring the hottie back -- y'know, the language thing's really not an issue..."

It was only by virtue of bending to fit the sheath to the inside of his calf that Eric avoided blushing at the outright lascivious comment from Naomi.

"No dice on that front," Hana was replying. "He's very firmly taken."

"Hana, you get all the guys," Naomi sighed. "Oh well -- guess I'll just have to hold on to the memory of his rear view. Man, what a view."

"{Haven't we got transportation to catch?}" Eric muttered. "{And maybe you'd like to remind your friend I understand English?}"

"{And spoil my fun -- not a chance. Grab the bag,}" Hana directed. Eric glared, but did as he was told. "See you soon, Naomi."

"Good huntin' Hana."

Eric was only too glad to follow Hana out of the wardrobe department, though he was more than well aware of Naomi's gaze following him out of the room. Kim will get such a kick out of hearing about this...

"{This way,}" Hana directed, leading Eric out of the building and onto a concrete apron which had, to Eric's mind, helipad practically stamped on it. "{Our ride should be here in a minute or two.}" She glanced at him. "{You know what the ride is?}"

"{Know the pilot,}" Eric corrected. "{Under normal circumstances, I'm her boss.}"

Hana stared, wide-eyed, startled into English. "Huh?"

Eric gave a faint chuckle, finally having broken her poise. "Frank didn't tell you, huh?"

"{Cantonese,}" Hana corrected.

Eric shrugged a little. "{Guess he didn't.}"

"{Tell me what?}"

"{My 'day' job,}" said Eric. "{He can't have done, otherwise you wouldn't have made the crack about the handgun.}"

Hana's eyebrows lifted. "{What hasn't he told me?}"

But at that moment, there was an impressive whine/growl/howling sound and out of the gathering dusk came a helicopter that looked, to Eric, as lethal and downright aggressive as any warplane he'd ever seen. Matt black with a white underbelly and a slightly 'drooped' nose, it resembled a shark and it was probably just as deadly through the air as a shark was through water. It was a sight that Eric was incredibly glad to know was on his side.

The chopper touched down with the faintest whine of hydraulics, barely audible over the growl of turning rotors. The cockpit door popped open and out bounced a familiar female form. A grey flight suit had replaced the navy-blue Silver Guardian uniform Eric had last seen her wearing, but for all that, he was glad to have his hunch play out. It was definitely good to see a friendly face -- and Taylor, even with her occasional bursts of attitude, was definitely that.

"We have a bit of a hustle on here, folks," she was saying as she neared them, "so if you to...holy fuck! Eric Myers look at you!"

Maybe he'd withdraw that friendly face comment. He glanced at Hana who was rolling her eyes heavenward. "{I did warn you I knew her,}" he retorted, before adding in English, "Taylor, if you want to be on traffic duty for the rest of your natural life, you'll just keep that up."

Taylor just snickered. "So much for the vacation, huh?"

"Please don't remind me of that," Eric replied with a sigh. "Didn't you say something about a hustle?"

"I did. Guess your explanations can wait." Suddenly, Taylor looked all business. "If you'd like to climb in -- we'll have you into Kwangju in time for dinner." Taylor turned towards the chopper.

Eric let Hana enter the aircraft cabin, then put a hand out to stop Taylor from following.

"Taylor, I need a favour."

For a second, he thought she was going to give a smart-ass response. "Name it."

From his pocket, he pulled out his wedding band and handed it over to Taylor. "Look after that for me, will you? If..." He shrugged uncomfortably.

"Kim'll get it," Taylor promised. "But I know you, Eric. 'If' didn't happen at East Hills, and it ain't gonna happen now." She smiled. "Now get your butt in that aircraft, 007."

"Yes ma'am." But though he might have rolled his eyes at the James Bond quip, Eric felt considerably better for knowing Taylor had his wedding band. It meant that whatever happened to him, Kimberly would get to hear the truth and not some watered down version from Peterson. Plan for the worst and hope for the best.

TO BE CONTINUED...