Present Day

John fixed his tie, pulling it straight with his collar before tugging at the waistcoat. "Not sure I should go white-tie."

"You arranged it." Talbot brushed at John's shoulders before fixing his own bowtie. "You could've asked for black-tie."

"But white-tie makes everyone think they're better than they are and we need our enemies at their very highest egos."

"So we can kill ourselves when we have to jump to their IQ levels in conversation?" Talbot sighed, "Again, as your designated conscience, I insist you rethink this whole idea."

"The party?" John snorted, "I couldn't agree more. This was one of my stupider ideas. I hate parties."

"No, you hate people. There is a difference." Talbot offered John his tails and followed him out of the room. "But I meant this whole, ghastly enterprise."

"After I've got everyone falling perfectly into my traps?" John arranged his tailcoat before taking the overcoat from Carson. "Thank you Carson."

"Not at all sir. Mr. Talbot?" Carson handed Talbot his coat as well. "If that's all for the evening I'll be off."

"Yes, thank you Carson. We'll let ourselves in later." John smiled at Carson, watching the man disappear into the house before nodding. "He's a man for a different time."

"He thinks we're a couple, John. But that's not the point," Talbot put his hands on his hips, coat dangling over an arm. "We've got Bricker pissing himself out of fear of what you'll do with the information, a controlling interest in Green's company, and Barrow and O'Brien in our grasp. Why not just leave them all for the crows and be off?"

"And do what?"

"Spend your ridiculous fortune on things that make poor people hate us or, if you're feeling kind hearted, build roads in developing nations to get water and agriculture connected." Talbot sighed, forcing his arms through his overcoat. "I don't care what else you do but if you continue the way you are then we're at risk of losing your soul."

"I didn't know my soul was of such concern to you, Henry." John opened the door and Talbot went outside. "It's touching."

"Don't take the mickey out at me," Talbot pointed a finger in John's face, trailing him to the car. "It's been my soul since I agreed to help you. I just didn't know what I was doing when I signed over half of my ill-gotten gains to your schemes."

"And now you regret it?"

"I think I thought it was a game before. John," Talbot buckled himself into the car and turned to face John. "When you brought Jack Green into this I recognized the gravity of the situation and I don't think you did."

"Didn't I?"

"You've put an innocent in the path of your firing squad."

"He won't get hurt."

"Won't he?" Talbot scoffed, "He's not going to hate you when you crush his father under your heel? Or when his mother is sobbing her eyes out as her life crashes down around her ears? You think he won't despise you?"

"Jack Green's feelings toward me aren't really my concern."

"Liar." Talbot pointed a shaking finger in John's face. "You're lying and I see it in your eyes. You like that boy and you respect him."

"He's a means to an end, Henry."

"What end John? Our mutual ruin?" Talbot sat back in his seat, "I can't let you put that boy in the middle of all of this. He's going to get burned."

"He's smart and he'll be fine."

"What about you? Will you be fine?"

"Once all this is over I'll be fine."

Talbot shook his head, "There's no 'over' to this John. It'll eat you up inside. You can't go on believing that you'll destroy these people, leave them as ashes in your wake, and then feel whole."

"How would you know?"

"Because, deep down under that rugged exterior of a boxer and the face of a smoothly modern gangster I know you're the kindest man I've ever met." Talbot swallowed, "Who else would stick his neck out for a man he barely knows when he's about to get gang raped in a prison bathroom?"

"I thought you never wanted to speak about that again."

"I didn't but I think you need to remember the man you were before you dissolved into this person I don't even recognize." Talbot sighed, "I don't want you to lose yourself John. Otherwise what was the point in saving you at all?"

"Who knows?" John stared out the window. "Who bloody knows?"

Eight Years Ago

John rubbed at his eyes, the pages swimming before him. "I don't get it."

"Not now but you will." Robert pushed one of the papers forward again. "We can't remake John Bates into John Christian if you don't have anything to make you different."

"And me learning three new languages is part of that?"

"John Christian is a business man." Robert stood, pacing around the table as John shifted in his chair. "He shares a lot of your personal history, to make the lie easier, but he needs to be a class above who you were."

"What's wrong with who I was?"

Robert stopped, "John Bates can't fight in this arena. He doesn't have the tools."

"But your John Christian does?"

"He's a man made for this." Robert pointed to one of the pages. "He's a linguist, it helps his business thrive when he can converse conversationally about products in the language of the nation."

"So if we expand to America I'll need to learn how to speak in pizza and hamburgers?"

Robert frowned, "John Christian is always aware of being offensive. He would rather spill wine over an expensive suit than risk the discomfiture of his hosts."

"You seem to've made this man without me so why bother with me at all?"

"Because one day people have to meet him. Buying up companies, living as a shadow on the sidelines, told as a legend in board rooms is only a effective if one day people actually meet you."

"Then they'll be disappointed because I don't know enough languages, I don't have the charm, and I'd rather take my fists to my enemies then rip them to shreds in a stock portfolio." John stood, "This is hopeless."

"It's not."

"You're wasting your time, Robert." John shook his head, "I'm going back to Rome."

"To do what, John?"

"That's where Simon Bricker spends his summers. I'll end him there before I go back to London. That's where I take care of Green, Barrow, O'Brien, and then off myself."

"And who wins?"

"They'll be dead, it doesn't matter."

"It did to the man who pled innocence for a year in a the murder trial." Robert stabbed a finger at the table. "That man would stand tall now and become this new person."

"I won't replace Matthew, Robert." John opened his arms wide. "Saving me now won't bring him back and I'm sorry if you spent the last seven years of your life thinking that doing me this good turn would help but it won't."

"I'm not doing this for Matthew."

"Then why? Why spend hours training me to be a gentleman, to walk into rooms with expensive suits and watches like I own them, or selecting art pieces and flats that give the impression I have a sodding clue what I'm doing?" John's voice rose but he did not care. "Why?"

"Because you saved my life." Robert bellowed, "You saved me and now I want to save you."

"I never saved you." John shook his head, "I'd remember saving you."

"You pulled me over your shoulders, running under heavy fire to get me out of the kill box." Robert walked toward the window, leaning on the sill and John noted how the man's hands shook as he tried to find support there. "The whole time I was frightened out of my mind but you took control. You saved five of our men and went back for the sixth before rescue came for us."

"You…" John pointed at Robert, "You were the lieutenant from Yorkshire. The one… the Fusiliers."

Robert nodded, "I led my men into that ambush and you, against orders, rescued my men from my stupidity."

"Anyone could've made that mistake."

"But I was the one who did and you stopped it being the massacre it deserved to be." Robert sighed, turning back to John. "I was there to serve my family's honor. You were there because you believed in what you'd sworn your life to defend."

"We all choose different paths."

"But you chose to save me that day and I'll never forget that you took the chance that I was worth saving." Robert walked over to John, trying to keep his tears from sneaking tracks over his cheeks. "I'm helping you now, pushing you now, because I know the man who saved my life wouldn't give up. You deserve more than to die trying to kill. That's not who you are."

"it is now." John hung his head, "I'm not the man who saved you anymore. That man's dead and buried under scandal and prison."

"He'd buried, that's true." Robert waited to continue until John raised his head. "But he's not dead. We've just got to find him again."

Present Day

John took the champagne flute with a smile, milling through the crowd to join Robert at a painting. "I didn't think you'd come."

"I was tempted not to when you told me the address." Robert finished his drink, "You know what this man tried to do to my wife?"

"I'm aware." John sipped his, "That's why I bought his company and his gallery out from under him. He's in my control now and you've no need to worry. Bricker'll be on his best behavior tonight."

"That's not my worry." Robert rolled his shoulders, "Cora didn't want to come."

"Then who'd you bring?"

"Me, Mr. Bates." John turned at the voice of Mrs. Crawley. She looped her arm through her father's, "I believe in familial support."

"I can see that." John lowered his voice, "Though I'd prefer we use the pseudonym your father was kind enough to invent for me tonight."

"Why? Afraid someone might recognize you?" Mary snorted, "The only other person here who even knows that John Bates isn't dead in a prison cemetery is Mr. Talbot and he'd go to his grave claiming the body of John Bates is cold in a grave and you're Mr. Jonathan Christian."

"And that bothers you?"

Mary shrugged, "The part that bothers me more than Mr. Talbot's almost chronic devotion to you is your obsession with Anna Green."

"Why do you care, Mrs. Crawley?"

"Because, even if I do feel more than a little guilt that I once believed you capable of gunning my husband down in the middle of an alley, I don't believe that the former Ms. Smith deserves any of your barely contained rage."

"What? Is her marriage enough suffering for her?"

"If you knew even half of what I do about her marriage you'd agree with me."

"Then you should've added it to the dossier." John raised his glass to her, "Satisfy yourself with other business Mrs. Crawley. I haven't the time or the patience at the moment o explain what's not your business to know anyway."

He went to leave but Mary grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her again… much to the embarrassment of her father. "It's rude to leave before a conversation is finished, Mr. Christian. Didn't they cover that in your finishing school?"

"They did." John removed her hand. "In the same school where they said one should excuse themselves before they say something they'll regret."

"Obviously you weren't listening well since you're about to do something I know you'll regret." Mary hissed at him. "Don't think I didn't put two and two together once I realized why you had any interest in Anna Green."

"And what answer did you reach?"

"The one where she told me all about her lovely boyfriend while I was on year abroad and then sobbed on my shoulder for a month after he died in prison." Mary pulled back, "That woman doesn't deserve anything but our sympathy."

"Then she's shit out of luck in that department from me." John took a step back. "If you'll excuse me, I need to see to my other guests. This is my party, after all."

"Yes, it is that." Mary gathered herself. "Enjoy the nibbly bits, Mr. Christian. I hope you choke on them."

As she walked away Robert took a hesitant step forward. "I'd like to apologize for Mary's behavior. It's-"

John held up a hand, "She's entitled to her opinion and it's one with which I'm not entirely unfamiliar."

"But still…"

"It's fine, Robert." John clapped his shoulder, "Enjoy the rest of the party and give Cora my best when you get home."

He milled with the crowd, keeping smiles for all the guests and conversation short. After an hour he finally found a quiet corner, staring at a Carl Bloch painting, and stood there. Someone cleared their throat to his right and he turned to see Anna.

She smiled at him, pointing at the picture. "It's one of my favorites."

"I didn't know you like Danish painters."

"It doesn't usually come up in dinner conversation about past loves." Anna folded her arms over her chest. "Though I guess we didn't get a chance to push the conversation further than that."

"Yes," John coughed, looking down before meeting her gaze. "I need to apologize for the way I spoke to you in the care afterward. It was rude and undeserved."

"I think it shows great strength of character to apologize and, for that, I'll accept."

John frowned, "Not for any other reason?"

"No," Anna shook her head, keeping her gaze on the painting. "I believe we can satisfy ourselves through great misfortune if we simply tell ourselves the reason."

"I'd hate to think I was among the reasons you felt any misfortune, Mrs. Green."

"Please," She put up a hand, "Call me 'Anna'. My son's not in school anymore and my husband's not here so I'd prefer to use my name for once instead of being spoken to in reference to someone else."

"If you prefer." John swallowed past the name caught in his throat, "Anna."

"See? That wasn't so hard." Anna turned back to the painting, "I always loved how the angel came as a comfort in a time of great need."

"Not sure the angel did much good given what they say Christ was going through in the moment."

"But any show of mercy and comfort is an effort in the right direction, Mr. Christian." Anna gave a little laugh, "Given your last name I'd think maybe you'd take a little more interest in the idea of mercy."

"I'm more on the side of justice."

"For anything in particular?"

John held her eyes, "For many things, in particular. But I handle them one at a time."

"Then may God have mercy upon the souls you intend to scatter in your wake?" Anna rolled her eyes, "You sound like my husband and that's rather disappointing."

"Why?" John bit on his back teeth, "Because he disappoints you often?"

"Even if I wanted to answer that question, which I don't, I'd remind you that social propriety would excuse me slapping you for even making that comment."

"I'm not ingrained with social graces."

"Obviously." Anna huffed, "I thought you'd be different because of the way Jack speaks about you."

"We shouldn't believe everything we hear." John nodded at Anna, "He told me that about you, actually."

"Oh did he?" Anna crossed her arms over her chest, rolling her shoulders back. "Was it in reference to something you saw in a newspaper or something?"

"Might've done."

Anna snorted, "I'd flattered I even took a second of your notice."

"More than your husband gives you?"

"This conversation is quickly becoming inappropriate."

John laughed, "Not as inappropriate as where your husband spends his off hours but I'd guess you already know about that."

"I'm not an idiot and I'm not ignorant." Anna sucked her cheeks in, shifting her weight. "So yes, I know where he is right now."

"I guess the money the marriage gives you soothes any worries in that department."

Anna slapped John and he felt the sting on his right cheek. He put his hand over it, looking down to see her holding her hand. The glint of her wedding ring caught his eye. He gaped at it while Anna tried to control her breathing.

"I do hope, if only for the sake of my hand, you don't continue speaking to me in that way."

John pointed to the ring, "Is that your wedding ring?"

Anna narrowed her eyes and brought up her left hand. "Unless the wedding ring has moved from the third finger of the left hand then yes, it is. And my engagement ring."

"It's plain."

Anna's eyes widened, "Are you determined to insult me at every turn Mr. Christian?"

"No, it's just-" John shook his head, "With all the other jewels and gaudy ornaments in this place you wear just a plain set of bands on your finger."

"It's the only thing my husband ever bought me that was really my style." Anna turned her hand to appreciate the rings. "Which, I admit, surprised me."

"Why?"

"Because my husband never paid that much attention to anything about me before. The fact that he got the rings right was a miracle."

"Because you only liked plain bands and think gold is overrated." John bit his tongue, letting it slip before he had a chance to think.

"That's right. But how did you-"

"Mrs. Green… Anna. I don't have an excuse for my rudeness this evening except to say that I'll make it easier on both of us to leave now." John nodded to her, "I hope you travel home safely."

John left his glass on a tray, grabbed his coat, and left Talbot calling after him. He hurried his arms into his coat sleeves and whistled for a cab, waving Andy to wait for Talbot. The cab honked at him and John dumped enough money over the seat to get himself back to his home as soon as he could.

Sitting in the back of the cab his mind ran riot.

Fifteen Years Ago

"Sure you can afford that?" Alex whistled, "It's not like you've got cash to spare, Mr. Bates."

"I'm not buying her a diamond, idiot." John shut the box, shoving at Alex. "Besides, she thinks gold is overrated."

"So you got her a plain, silver band?" Alex lounged back on his sofa. "If I offered that to any girl I ever dated they'd throw it, the box, and their drink in my face for being cheap."

"It's not about that, Alex." John placed the box on the coffee table between them. "It's about what she wants."

"And she wants that?"

"Yes." John tapped the top of the box. "And because I want her that's what she'll get."

"Hard to believe she'll even think about taking you." Alex snorted, "You've got no money to your name, you're both shacking up in a flat you can barely squeeze your elbows in, and she's still got two years of Uni to finish. It's crackers and you know it."

"Sod off." John pushed at Alex again. "We're happy and that's all that matters."

"Not that I didn't try and convince her away from you." Alex popped the top off his beer, resting back on his sofa again. "But the woman wouldn't have me. Thought you'd make her happy."

"And I will." John slid the box toward Alex. "But I need you to hang onto it."

"Why? I'm not proposing for you."

"No," John glared at Alex, "But, as you so kindly pointed out, we live in a tiny place. She'll find it if I try to hide it there and I can't risk her blowing the surprise."

"You've got it all planned then?"

"Down to the last detail." John opened his hands to explain. "I'll get off work and go to the corner shop that sells her favorite flowers and her favorite chocolates. I get those, and a lovely card, and then get home before her last class to have dinner all done when she comes through the door."

"What a way to celebrate an anniversary in style." Alex snorted, "Crammed together in your quaint little cracker box."

"I'll have you know that the anniversary usually involves some cramming but we both enjoy that." John winked and Alex sputtered on his beer. "Alright there mate?"

"Don't tell me that. It's disgusting." Alex grabbed a handful of paper towels, wiping down his vicinity. "At least tell me you're getting yourself enough condoms with those chocolates to make sure you've got no surprises."

"I thought you didn't want details." John teased, standing, "But that's where you come in."

"Buy your own condoms."

"Not that, idiot." John pointed to the ring. "Drop it by next morning like a delivery. I'll go to the door, grab it, and then propose. It'll be great."

"People think too much about how to do these things and not enough about the after." Alex stood too, stretching. "But fine, I'll be there. What time?"

"Nine? She likes to sleep in on Saturdays."

"So do I!" Alex groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "Fine, fine… I'll be there."

"You're the best man." John pulled Alex to hug him before stepping out the door. "You're still the best."

"I know." Alex closed the door.