And so begins the journey into Mark's past. For those of you that follow my tumblr, you'll know that this story is going to end up quite strange. But hopefully you'll enjoy it!

Chapter 1: Dying

Mid-February, 1984

The first thing that he was aware of was that his body ached. It was a dull throbbing ache, something one might feel after a workout they weren't used to. But he knew he hadn't been working out. He just wished that he did know what was causing the pain.

He became aware that his eyes were closed and realised that if he opened them, he may be able to figure out what was going on. However, they felt like lead, and as hard as he tried to open them, they remained shut tightly. He relaxed, knowing that at the moment, he wasn't going to win the fight against them.

What had happened? Slowly, the memories started to emerge through the fog and he started to piece things together. Alex had been missing for a week. He thought that she had run, and so did Gene. They found out she was being held hostage. The raided the place. George was a traitor. And then, the sound of gunfire. The bullet flying towards him, and he, too slow to get out of the way in time. Pain suddenly exploding through his chest. And Alex, crying over him, begging him to stay.

He knew where he was. He had to be dead. Just as Danny had warned him. He had gotten too involved in the case and it had killed him. He was probably six feet under, and now he was waking up in the afterlife. So, had he gotten to heaven or hell?

Once more he started the battle against his eyelids. Slowly, he started to win against them and opened his eyes, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light. He looked around, drinking in the details, from the curtains around him, to Danny sitting next to his side, reading a paper.

"Definitely hell then," he said, loud enough for Danny to hear him. Danny set down the paper and looked at him furiously.

"You almost died, Mark."

"Did I not?" Mark asked dryly, looking down at his body, covered by the bed sheets. "Oh."

"This isn't funny," Danny hissed. "You barely made it out of surgery. Alex Drake is being watched carefully overnight because they're not sure what she might do. Hunt is pacing the corridors with worry about her, and you're department still doesn't know whether you've made it through surgery."

Mark sighed, looking up at the ceiling. He really had screwed things up exponentially this time. He knew there was only one answer.

"Well, then tell them," he said.

"Tell them what?"

"That I've died. Tell them that Mark Evans died of his wounds. Tell them that I made it through surgery, and then bled to death. I don't care. I'm done, Danny."

"But..."

"You know as well as I do that there's no recovering from the mistakes I made on this last mission. They'll probably decommission me anyway. At least this way, I can do it on my own terms."

He sighed, fighting against falling asleep. Danny was looking at him in concern. "Are you sure, Mark? You know what this means. No contact with your family, your friends, you'll have to get out of London for a few years at the very least..."

"I know. Do it," he mumbled, slipping back into a dreamless sleep.

~(*)~

Danny walked down the corridor, his face a mask. He saw Gene pacing anxiously around the corridor, the same way he had been an hour earlier.

"You okay, Hunt?"

Gene nodded stiffly. "They're in, giving her some pain meds and helping her to the loo. She's pissed off that she can't even have a slash by herself."

"Well, would you be happy?"

"Mark..." Gene said, choosing to ignore the question.

Danny looked down and shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Haemorrhage after surgery."

"Shit," he breathed.

"Do you want me to...?"

"No," Gene interrupted. "I'll do it."

"How is she dealing with it?"

"She wouldn't let go of me coat the whole way here. Poor mare was just shaking and crying. She hasn't said a word since she got here."

Danny immediately felt guilty, but suppressed it, just like he had been taught to do so long ago. "We'll let you know when the funeral is," he said.

Gene just nodded stiffly. Danny walked on, out of the hospital, taking the Tube back to the Grid.

Everyone looked up as soon as he walked in. "Danny," Harry murmured.

Danny swallowed his guilt, giving his head a tiny shake. "We will clean out his desk in the morning."

~(*)~

Mark woke slowly, bored. He had been in intensive care for several days now, and they were finally moving him to a different unit. All he had been able to do was sleep and eat, and answer the questions of ever persistent doctors and nurses. He had not quite thought of how lonely being dead would be.

He thought constantly about Alex and Gene, wondering how she was dealing, how he was dealing with her. He hoped that she would not be thrown back on her progress too much, that she would listen to his last words to her. He knew that what he had said was accurate. He could never love her like Gene did.

Someone walked into the room. Mark looked up, interested, wondering who it could be.

"Didn't think I'd see you again," he said.

Danny gave a small smile. "You need an identification, don't you? I brought all your papers for you."

"Ah, right," he said, sitting up, wincing as his wound started to throb. "I forgot about that."

"You always did forget the important things," Danny said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out an envelope. "Bank account numbers, references from your previous job, everything you need to start your new life. A flat key is in there; the address is next to it. We've relocated all your things to Bath, save for the paintings. Those went to Alex, as you wished."

Mark smiled softly. "Do you know how she's doing?"

"She looked pretty broken up at your funeral, but Hunt will take care of her. We changed your will a bit, so that you were left with some money. Alex and Hunt received half of the specified amount, which still leaves you a substantial sum. Also, we'll be giving you a pension, which isn't shabby."

"Not even forty and I'm already a pensioner," Mark said softly.

Danny smiled softly. "You know you could still come back."

"I'm dead, Danny. Everyone on the grid but you thinks I'm dead."

"They'll understand if you come back."

"My family. My friends. Everyone who went to my funeral. What will they think?"

Danny sighed. "You're right, of course. I just don't want to see your talent go to waste. What are you going to do with your life, Mark?"

"Arthur," Mark said, looking at his new driving licence. "Call me Arthur, Danny."

"What are you going to do with your life, Arthur?"

Mark smiled. "Dunno yet. I could go into some sort of office work, but I'd be starting at the bottom. Not really something I want to do at my age. I want something relaxing though. Maybe I'll become a bartender."

"You think that's relaxing?" Danny asked incredulously. "People shouting at you their orders, rushes, making sure everything's correct?"

Mark raised an eyebrow. "More relaxing than my previous profession, and less desk work."

Danny laughed. "You're right. Damn, Ma...Arthur. You've got me debating about whether or not I want to be a bartender now."

"Don't. The wages are awful." Mark grinned again, and Danny chuckled.

"I wish we could keep in touch, Arthur Newton, but unfortunately circumstances dictate that we are not able to. I hope you have a nice life in Bath. Meet a girl. Settle down. Be a bloody bartender."

"Meeting a girl at my age is impossible, Danny. I got lucky with Alex, and she was already in love with another man."

"Who was older and less refined than you, may I add. You've got plenty of hope if Hunt can get a bird like Alex."

Mark smiled. "I guess you could be right. Well I'll cross my fingers, but I won't be holding my breath."

"Good man! Unfortunately, Mark...Arthur, I've got to go."

"Wait. Danny. Can I come back to London?"

Danny looked at him for a moment before responding. "Mark Evans should never step foot in London again," he said mysteriously before exiting the room.

Mark sighed, leaning back against the pillows, disappointed, thinking about what Danny said. It was good that Alex was dealing with his 'death.' He didn't realize how he would miss her, even though he had planned on disappearing after the case with Will Grey/Walter Green. She had made him feel something he had never felt before. When he was with her, he had felt like he mattered, like there was a point to him being on the planet. He had never experienced that before in his life. As a child, his dad had always treated him as worthless, and no matter how much he excelled at anything, his dad had made him feel like a failure. Because he couldn't tell his parents that he was a part of MI-5, just part of the government, his dad had even found fault in that. But Mark knew that even if his dad knew that he was part of MI-5, he'd still be disappointed. Being one of 'those spooky bastards' was a high offence in his father's book.

But Alex had found it interesting. She had understood, at least partially. She had been the only person off the Grid that he had been perfectly honest with. And now he couldn't see her again.

Mark stopped himself mid-thought. He was starting to spiral into a place that he wouldn't get out of. He needed to stop thinking about her. Alex was a different life. Alex was Mark Evan's failed relationship. He was Arthur. Arthur Newton. He had a shitty name, but he couldn't really help the matter.

"My name is Arthur Newton," he breathed to himself. "I had a position with the government until I was shot. Now I'm moving to Bath to relax and actually have the life I missed out on in London. Maybe this time, I won't throw my life to crap."

He closed his eyes as someone entered the room. He opened his eyes to see a nurse peering at him suspiciously. "Arthur Newton?" she asked him suspiciously.

He recognised her. She had taken care of him for several days. She was going to know now what he was, but he didn't care. She'd sign the form, be sworn to secrecy, and he would never see her after he got out of this goddamned hospital.

"Yes," he replied.

"I'm Lily. I'm going to be your nurse for the next shift. How's your pain?"

"It's at a three right now. I can't have anything for a few hours, can I?"

"Nothing strong. Just paracetamol."

"That's what I thought. I was just checking. But I don't want anything right now, no."

The nurse nodded, gave him a quick assessment and left the room. He stared at the ceiling, bored. He decided to go through the items Danny had left for him. He found the key Danny had mentioned, along with a piece of paper with an address written on it. He read the address, committing it to memory, before looking through the rest of the envelope. As he pulled out the last item, he gave a small laugh. It was a map of Bath, with the street his flat was on circled three times in red pen.

"Thanks Danny," he murmured.

He threw the items on the table next to him, and settled back into his pillows. It was almost time for supper, and though he wasn't excited about trying to force down the food, it broke the monotony of staring at the ceiling.

Suddenly he grinned.

Danny had said that Mark Evans could never come back to London. Mark Evans was dead. Danny never said anything about Arthur Newton.

He smiled to himself. He'd go to Bath. He'd live there for a few years, but eventually, he knew, he would return to London.

I just want to take a moment to say that a year ago today I met the fabulous Keeley Hawes. She really was as amazing as everyone said, and I even saw her husband in person as well! (Clean shaven with glasses, and though I'm not as much a fan of him, in person...woah.)

Next chapter will be up eventually ;)