"I have to go." Crawford grabbed his coat, which he had just started to take off, and stuffed the two envelopes into his right pocket hurriedly.
"Do you have any idea who sent them?" James questioned, suddenly baffled at the excitement.
"No."
"Perhaps it is from one of Alex's recent adversaries. You told me that he had a quite dangerous life this past year."
Crawford ground his teeth in impatience as he headed toward the door. The doctor didn't need to quiz him on the obvious. A first year recruit could have figured that out. But he was not an MI6 trainee, and did look farther than the obvious.
"That would be impossible." He shrugged out at the foot of the door.
"Oh yes...why?"
"I've taken seven years of espionage forgery classes and can tell you right now that the handwriting on the last note looks very much female. Men don't write that small or carefully, Dr. Hoskins."
And with that he walked out and slammed the door shut with a sharp 'snap'.
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The air remained moist and thick as he padded his thick black leathered boots onto the cobblestone street which now had grass peaking through it. He stopped, trying to recall the vaguely familiar surroundings. There was a quiet parking garage on the next block, a forbidding restaurant with a broken open sign where one of the letters were still flickering, and an out of service metro station.
Ah.
That was it. No wonder it seemed alien to him. The underground train was broken and decayed, long abandoned. It was only natural that the buildings close by would fall away too.
But, quite frankly, Yassen didn't care about a dead street turn. He came here for information.
A stray dog across the street howled in agony as Yassen made his way down the dark, barley lit tunnel of the subway station. It wasn't completely pitch black. That was a good sign. The dimness proved that someone still went down here.
The path was a ghost town. Or perhaps he should call it a ghost tunnel. It still felt as if people were waiting for their train to pick them up. But the train would never come.
Yassen sighed. What was wrong with him? Years of discreet work had taken a toll, obviously.
Creak!
He spun! There was a figure right behind him, squinting and fumbling for something in his long trench-coat's pocket.
"P-pluh-please! Don't shoot!" The seemingly short man coughed out. His voice sounded old and cracked with the dryness that made him sound a hundred years old. At least.
Yassen had his gun out already. Work hadn't taken that much toll after all. He glared at the frail, frightened man.
"Something tells me that you aren't waiting for your train ticket. Now, answer me truthfully and I will not harm you."
The man attempted to chuckle but ended up choking and gagging instead. Yassen ignored him.
"Who are you?"
"..Ba-pluh-Barney
McHiggins, at your service my friend." He wheezed out.
"And why are you down here Barney?"
"It's my job. Supply..er...new ID's and liscenses, give out need to know information, sell pictures of families you may need to blackma-erm...get in touch with..." Barney winked and then broke off into coughing again.
"Where is Tom Brady? The man that used to run this op?"
Barney broke off into a laughing fit mixed with coughs and groans. He clutched his hands to his stomach and came to with a disturbing twinkle in his eye.
"Tom ain't here right now. There was a tragic accident at his last vacation in the countryside. Apparently he was golfing with an explosive golf ball. Who woulda guessed it?" Barney smiled.
Yassen was not amused. He pocketed his gun in one swift motion and grabbed Barney by his collar, shoving his face into a nearby wall.
"Listen to me right now. You will not play games with me. Threaten. Exploit. Or tell anyone we had a conversation today. If I hear word of any of these things and connect them to you then you will find yourself waking up one day with a butcher's knife in your throat. Do you understand?"
Barney nearly whimpered, but slowly and painfully nodded his head in silence. Yassen released his grip.
"Good. I'm so glad we understand each other. Now, I would like some information on a few people. First of all, have you ever heard of SCORPIA?"
"Course'I have! It's my job. They were a rough bunch of mercenary terrorists you could say-"
"Were?"
"Yup, that's right. Last I heard one of their new recruits did em' in. Killed the leader called Rothman and half of the others. Then, only a little while later, he completely ruined them with the exposure and death of a double agent in Australia along with many other agents. If there are any left in SCORPIA, they won't be showing there faces to Secret Intelligence anytime soon..."
"Do you know this recruit's name?"
"Mmm...no, sorry. I think he was British. Least, that's what I heard. First ran in on SCORPIA in Malagosta. But don't worry, he'll be taken care of if that's what you're concerned about. No offense, but judging by the looks of you I'm sure that's what you would want, am I right?"
"What makes you think he'll be taken care of?" Yassen asked gazing at him, focused.
Barney had a smug, secretive look wiped all over his face.
"Ya won't tell who ya heard it from, will you?"
"Do I look like I'm a rat like you?" Yassen seethed.
"Fair enough..." Barney smiled and leaned closer to Yassen as if afraid someone would overhear them in the deserted station.
"A powerful woman came the other day, looking for a couple fake identities. One for her and one for a man. She also was looking for a remote location where the police wouldn't look. Said they needed it to be soundproof for-ah-detaining situations. Bought a lotta drugs too, anesthesia and such that can knock someone out real good. But the doses were smaller than average. Meant for a young adult or teenager I reckon. And then I heard the man asking her if he-the man they were blackmailing I guess-would really wake up and want his son back. Then she went on blabbering about how her plans are fail proof and how she wanted revenge, oh, and then she mentioned the boy worked for MI6. Can you believe it? Some teenager or really young adult working for secret intelligence?"
"Shocking." Yassen sarcastically droned out.
"-So I put two and two together and assumed that the new recruit was probably the same kid who works for MI6. I mean, that would explain his betrayal for SCORPIA and everything, right?" Barney was beaming at his own clever idea.
"You're smarter than you look Barney." Yassen said.
"Why thank y-hey..."
"One more question. Do you know either one of their names? The two that came here for the drugs?"
Barney creased his eyebrows in thought. "uh...can't remember the gents name...but that woman, she was sure scary. Held a confident walk and such. And her name sounded like a flower almost...sarah...sira? Oh yeah! Sierra..."
"Sierra?"Yassen repeated. The name may have been fake, but it certainly had no meaning to Yassen.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The white blanket of heavenly goodness had left his spirit. He honestly wanted to cry right now. Beg for Helen to come back. To feel her warmth and gentle caress again. That was what he wanted.
But no, instead all he received was a clearer vision field and a small white room. Four walls. Buzzing machines. Wires crawling up his arms.
Wait, buzzing machines?
He had no idea where he was or how he got here. Heck, he couldn't even remember the last thing that happened to him. All he remembered was-Helen.
My angel...
John's eyes watered and he almost began to cry but for the footsteps outside his door. James Hoskins had at last heard the whirring monitor that had clicked on to an annoying beep when John's heart rate went higher. Woke up was actually a better word for it...
John squinted. Who was the man in the white coat? Friend or enemy?
The man looked shocked, but then his gaze turned expectant. He didn't appear all that surprised.
"Can you hear me...John?"
Flexing a finger, just to make sure he was still in his own body, John replied, "Of course I can hear you. Who the are you?"
"My name is James Hoskins. I'm a doctor and here to help you."
"Do I look like I'm four years old, sir? Tell me why I am here and how I got here, RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"
"P-please! Don't overdue it! Your body will not respond perfectly right now, so you can't raise your heart rate too much!"
"Tell me how I got here."
"I honestly don't know Mr. Rider. I know barely anything about you. But a man, who works for MI6, a Mr. Crawford, he knows who you are. He told me that you were acquainted once before."
"John Crawford?"
"Yes..."
Crawford was a good agent, and if he was really involved in this, then at least he could trust someone. John breathed deeply. "How long have I been out?"
James flexed a hand and stepped closer to John. A single bead of sweat slithered down the side of his forehead. "Well, we're not absolutely sure, but best estimates are about fourteen years-"
John's eyes widened in disbelief. This man was not even trying to give him a believable story. "I'm not in the mood for games. Who the hell are you and why am I here?!"
"You were in a coma John. Crawford and I are doing are best to find out why and how, but when we found you, this is all we found. A white room, abandoned equipment, and you."
John appraised the nervous man in front of him. He had enough experience in the field of lying to know a liar when he spotted one. But this man was not lying. Scared maybe, but truthful.
"Well then Dr. Hoskins...I suppose you had better enlighten me on what I've missed."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Yassen was making his way out of the tunnel when something suddenly occurred to him. Barney McHiggins hadn't asked for payment for the information. Surely a greedy little cretin like him would have asked for cash, unless-
Bam!
A bullet whizzed past his side, ripping his jacket arm. Blood began to flow freely. Faster than lightning, Yassen spun while pulling out his own firearm only to find that it wasn't there.
He really was a dirty little weasel...
"Don't move a muscle." A man called out in front of him. He was well built, medium height, with dark blonde hair. Grim expression. Fiery eyes. No more than thirty years old at best guess. The eyes looked surprised at first, and then they slowly accepted what they saw. Accepted and hated.
"Yassen Gregorovich," He spat out.
"Do I know you?"
"You do now. My name is David Javenson. Someone told me that you are responsible for my brother's death."
"And how did you come across that?" Yassen was icy cold. Frozen and calmed to his spot, unphased by the gun pointed straight at him.
"As it turns out, my brother was supposedly healing after his miraculous survival from the attack. But when I rushed to the hospital, he wasn't there. And then a photo popped up from airport security cameras from flights to London. A nurse identified you as her patient. But I knew you weren't my brother, even if you do look a bit like him... The government told me to take you alive, but they'll never know what happened out here. I can tell them it was self defense-"
"-Be careful what you are thinking. If you walk away right now, I will not harm you." Yassen stated emotionlessly.
"Shut up! You're going to pay for what you did to my brother, do you hear me?! You won't walk away from a crime scene ever again!" David loosely pulled the trigger with a crazed gleam in his eye.
Yassen decided that now was the right time to make his move and he spun his foot and knocked the gun out of David's shaking hand. David reacted and launched his body on Yassen, knocking them both to the ground. He wrapped his hands around Yassen's neck and squeezed, in full mind to cut off his windpipes when he felt something heavy hit his head.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Crawford was at loss without any leads. Unfortunately, he did know where too get leads. It was shady and dangerously close to criminal, but he was willing to do it if he could find Alex.
He had gotten word of a ex-mob boss who would feed information to criminals willing to pay. He made it his business to know everything about everyone and thrived on the commerce of it.
Crawford was heading down beside the abandoned metro system when he saw two men wrestling each other on the ground. Then one of them began choking in intent to kill. Crawford snuck up and gabbed his balled up fist on a pressure point of the man. He fell limp right before Crawford.
Slowly, he checked the man's pulse. It was regular. Then he glanced back toward the other figure.
But the other man was gone.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Wait...son?"
"Yes, Crawford said you have a son."
John searched his memory for anything before the crash. There were flashes.
Helen handing over a little baby to the nanny, teared up and homesick already. Her name was Ceila. The nanny who held his...child...his son Alex...
"Helen, we can't miss our flight." He explained with an understanding smile. She nodded and moved toward the taxi. But he went up to Ceila and kissed the little baby on the forehead.
"I love you."
And then he was gone.
John shut his eyelids. The smiling baby was too much. James Hoskins seemed to understand his painfully slow attempt at memory searching and left him alone in the room.
Something felt dry on his tongue. Like a part of the flash was a lie. Something was either missing or wrong.
But what could have been wrong with that innocent scene?
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Alex was still tied to a chair when he heard voices outside. The soldier man wasn't in here with him. It was a small surprise considering that he had insisted upon watching Alex's every move. Just waiting for Alex to do something crazy no doubt...
But he was hearing the man's voice. Two people were arguing outside his prison.
"...that is a bad idea...can't tell him things like..."
"...that is my decision...don't you dare..." A woman's voice sounded through very clearly. "Are you jealous? Hmm? Is that it?"
"I just don't think..." He started to go off again but the woman cut him off. Angry footsteps thudded closer to the door and undid the locks hurriedly.
The woman stepped through the narrow doorway and her gaze fell directly on Alex. Her hair was pitch black with a sleek shine to it and she was slender, but walked with firm steps. A person who knew they were in control. All in all, she looked around in her forties, but not old in any way. No, this woman looked more spirited than women half as old as herself.
"Alex..." She began. Hazel eyes that danced with-what was that...joy?-gazed at him. The woman walked closer until she was right up next to Alex. Carefully, she laid one of her cold hands on his cheek. Alex cringed away at the icy feeling and looked her straight in the eye.
"Who are you?"
Surprise flickered across her hazel brown eyes and then came...anger...at the very least. Then a calm aura filled the woman again and she spoke, " I had guessed that no one would have told you about me Alex. I saw you when you were such a small, fragile baby you know. Your father-"
"You knew my father?"
She laughed. "Yes. Rather well in fact. But he was not the man I thought I knew. He betrayed me and destroyed all the work I had built in my life. In fact, he would have killed me if I hadn't given him such a scare one day."
"What did you do?"
She laughed again. A long and deep laugh that chilled Alex's very bones. This woman-whoever she was-was dangerous. He could tell that much.
"Oh Alex. It wasn't what I did. It's what he did."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Helen smiled at the little baby in her arms and then back at John. Alex crawled toward his father and John laughed as he lifted him up and sat the baby down on his knee. Happily John looked at the joyful face of Alex and looked into the child's eyes. Then he glanced back at Helen, still smiling. Helen, with her beautiful amber eyes, radiated her bliss-
John woke from his dream.
He suddenly realized what felt out of place.
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A/N- Send me your thoughts. Think you know where it's going? Not liking it? More action? Less confusion? Let me know!
:) Reviews help me update faster!(And Yassen doesn't like lurkers, so keep that in mind when you skip reviewing vv)