Genre: Drama, angst, friendship
Spoilers: End of series 2, "The Reichenbach Fall"
Warnings: Spoilers, angst, some violence, mentions of drugs, swearing
A big thank you to Zacha, who cheered me on and to KonekoZero - and to all of you who are reading! As ever, if you´d like to drop me a line or comment, please do!
A Disadvantage
Driving back into the centre of Brussels, I contemplate my next move. As soon as Morbier´s men will find out that Lelord is dead, they will get suspicious. Knowing Moriarty´s organisation, and knowing that Lelord was trained on me, I am positive that his henchmen will trail me down to question me as soon as they are aware he has disappeared even if they do not discover his body. After all, the web has not become an influential force among the European administration and its economies by being a cosy place where people are trusted and loved. It thrives on strict control, including that of lives and fates.
To return to my small Paris flat is out of the question, as is contacting Mycroft as long as I am not in acute danger. Still, I need a short break to work out how to proceed. For this reason, I abandon the car in one of the larger parking spaces and walk up to a prominent pedestrian area where I take a seat outside a small café and try to calm my overstrung nerves with a decent Belgian coffee.
The adrenaline is slowly wearing off and I shiver in the mid-March sun, feeling worn and utterly tired, missing my coat. My hands are shaking as I pick up the cup. The odour of the freshly ground coffee and the taste of the warm, bitter liquid on my tongue transports me back to the morgue of Bart´s and Molly. I linger on the question how she copes with the knowledge that I have not died, what she has told the others. Molly never seemed really at ease with her life. But she blended in, much more than I will ever be able to, and she cared enough to help me.
Breathing lighter after a second sip of coffee, it is only now that I examine my surroundings closely. Just another slip of control, I realize, for staying alert is crucial to surviving this game. Shock and fatigue must evidently have taken their toll on my ability to observe. But there is nothing suspicious going on. Mainly tourists, students, families, employees of the European Parliament and the odd dealer are about, all bathing in the early spring sun, enjoying the promise of warmth and summer the tepid wind whispers to them.
A group of friends is pointing out details of the historical buildings across the street to each other, several families watch a juggler on a nearby corner. All is friendly and peaceful and a stark contrast to the conditions at Morbier´s headquarter and the unbearable dullness of Rieger´s office.
I have not been witness to normal, enjoyable life in months, and my mind revels on every single detail, already kicking into gear to categorize every single aspect of the pedestrian scenes surrounding me. But I need to stop these observations, I need to concentrate on the task at hand. If I want to approach Morbier again, I will need to tell him a convincing tale of how Lelord met his fate. My knowledge of Rieger´s work is a threat to Morbier – one he will rule out entirely if I can´t offer him a priceless bit of information or a very special talent.
The peaceful scene of the public enjoying themselves is still unfolding when it starts to drizzle. As soon as the first drops of rain are hitting my skin, my tired mind wanders back to London again. John and I had been sprinting up to the Nelson Monument on a day with comparably unstable weather when John, being already exhausted by a three-hour chase through the city centre in search of a suspect, called me selfish for the umpteenth time. One hour later, we stopped at the Embankment, the sun setting in fireworks of red and orange, when he suddenly smiled at me, telling me that he loved the chase even though I were an annoying git most of the time. I did not really listen to him then, being preoccupied as usual, but sitting in a Brussels café one year later, my coffee finished, I realize that John had simply made clear that I own his heart. That, in fact, I always did.
Pushing these thoughts aside I chide myself for failing to concentrate on more immediate issues. Probably I should better be moving to a quieter place. Placing several Euros on the table, I get up to leave when I feel a restraining hand on my shoulder.
"No need to hurry, Eric. Morbier will give you all the time in the world," a familiar voice says. I turn, only to face two elegantly dressed men, on short, the other bulky. Both wear sunglasses, both are blond. Only one of them speaks an elegant, refined French, though. André Didier, Lelord´s sidekick. Didier, who I thought had been taken to custody shortly after I left Rieger´s lab. Didier, whose presence is proof of how fatally unobserving I have been.
