For those of you who follow my Tumblr, the Iggy/Caligula nonsense I've been posting finally will make sense. This whole fic has gone a bit mad, but with no Alex angst, it's only to be expected.
Chapter 2: Sarah
August 1984. Bath.
Mark scratched his head with a pencil, staring at the trees of the park. The park was full of people, enjoying the warm day. It was clear out today, a monstrous feat for any city in England. Mark stared at his sketchpad. He was trying to revive his long lost drawing skills, but to no avail. He just didn't like the pencil and paper. He much preferred the long strokes of the brush against canvas, the colours mixing together beautifully before his eyes. Pencil was just too...grey.
He tossed his sketchpad aside, thinking. Maybe if he bought some coloured pencils, sketching would be more fun. It would be closer to what he did on canvas and he could take it anywhere. Or, he could buy a travel painting kit, if they made those.
Mark sighed, ready to leave. He had been bored since leaving London. He hadn't expected how mundane civilian's lives were. All the time he had been dreaming about how nice it must be to not know government secrets, and now he wished that he could be in the thick of it again. He wished that he could get into contact with Danny and beg to come back, but he knew that the option was closed. The decision had been made permanent once the casket had been laid in the ground and covered. At that moment, Mark Evans the spook was dead forever.
He was still having trouble coming to terms with it, especially with responding without thinking to the name 'Arthur'. Although he had used it on cases, he'd never needed it for a permanent form. He'd never spent days and weeks under that name, precisely why it had been chosen from his aliases. Because with that name, no one would remember him except passing acquaintances.
He stood, starting to collect his things when something hit him in the back of the legs, knocking him over. Furious, he rolled onto his back, ready to get up and yell at whoever had knocked him down, when something wet started covering his face.
Mark realised that he was being licked by a dog. Bloody owner can't control their sodding dog, they shouldn't have it, he thought disjointedly, more concerned with getting the tongue away from his face. He angrily pushed the dog's face away, but the dog put its paws on his chest, looking down at him, its tongue lolling happily out of his mouth. He recognised it as a Labrador, probably just out of puppy stages, but still pretty big. The dog was black, with amber eyes and a long tail that Mark could see wagging back and forth.
"Iggy!" a woman shouted breathlessly. "Bad dog! Down boy!"
The dog did nothing, except for start to lick Mark's face again.
"Caligula!" the woman shouted angrily. Immediately, the dog stopped his attack, and backed down, his tail between his legs. "Sit." The dog sat, looking shamefaced, and the woman ran up to Mark.
"I am so sorry," she said. "I was walking him, and he saw a squirrel and..."
"Found me instead," Mark finished, brushing himself off. Now that the dog was off of him, he was actually finding the whole thing funny.
"Oh God. I'm so sorry."
Mark raised both of his hands, grinning. "It's okay. Most excitement I've had in a few months. He's got an interesting name."
"Oh yeah. I teach history, and I always loved Roman history. I named him Caligula because he's completely mental. As you can see, he doesn't get his full name unless he's been a very naughty boy," she finished, staring at the dog, which covered his nose with his front leg.
Mark laughed, quickly assessing the woman. He guessed her at mid-thirties, and by the tan line on her finger, she had recently gotten out of a marriage. She had chestnut coloured hair, and bright blue eyes. He could tell that she was more used to laughing than frowning, and from the shape her body was in, that she ran quite often.
"You're not from around here," he said.
"You can tell?" she asked, somewhat despairingly. "I've been here five years and still sound ridiculously East London."
Mark smiled. "Why'd you move here?"
"My husband, well, ex-husband now, his job transferred out here. So he uprooted my son and I from our lovely home in London and brought us out here. I don't mind it, but I like London better. And after we came to Bath...I should just shut up now. I'm Sarah, by the way. Sarah Noble."
Mark swore his heart stopped for a few moments. Sarah Noble. The name Alex had used to go undercover with. Apparently, that name was going to chase him around forever. He realised he had been staring entirely too long with his mouth open and made himself respond.
"Sorry. I'm Arthur Newman."
"You're not from around here," Sarah said.
Mark smiled. "I'm from London as well."
"Why'd you move to Bath then, Arthur?"
"Long story short, the government doesn't like it when you make mistakes. I was quietly pensioned off and they gave me a flat out here to get me out of their hair."
"What did you do? I mean, what was your position?"
Mark smiled and shook his head. "Classified."
Realisation dawned on the woman's face.
"But that's long behind me now. I'm enjoying it here, actually, mad dogs and all."
Sarah blushed. "I really am sorry about that. Will you let me take you out for a coffee? Or...it's gone five. What about a drink?"
"What about Caligula...er...Iggy? And your son?"
"My son's eighteen and at Uni. And we can drop off Iggy, if you don't mind."
"Not at all. I'm sorry, I didn't expect..."
"My son to be so old? Yeah, I know. Jack and I were married six months before he was born. Barely twenty and a son to raise to boot. Still, I wouldn't change it," she said as they walked out of the park. "What about you Arthur? Any kids?"
"Nope. Had one or two serious relationships, but nothing came out of them. My job scared everyone off. There was someone recently. She was the only one it didn't scare off, but she loved someone else."
"I'm sorry," she said. "If it's any consolation, that's what happened with me and Jack. He comes up to me one day, says he's in love with someone else; that he had been for years and had tried to deny it. He decided it wasn't fair on Ben and me and that we needed better."
"Ouch," Mark said.
"Still, I guess he was right. I was worrying myself to illness that something was wrong with me, with him, why nothing felt like it did. I feel much better than I did, and right before Ben moved out, I got Iggy here. Been trying to train him..."
"To no avail," Mark said snidely.
Sarah laughed. "You're right. Iggy's a stubborn little bugger."
"Maybe I could train him," Mark said. "I've trained a few friends' dogs in the past."
"If you want, feel free. I'm getting nowhere with him except by calling him Caligula."
Instantly, the dog's ears and tail drooped.
"Relax, Iggy," she said, which made the dog's ears perk up again.
"He really knows his name," Mark said, grinning. Sarah started walking up the pavement to her house.
"That's about the only thing. Don't even try with sit, stay, roll over, down, get off the nice man. He'll do anything my son says, go figure."
Mark laughed as she unlocked the door and Iggy ran inside. Sarah stopped, considering. "Do you just want to come in for a cup of tea? Or did you have your heart set on a pint?"
"Tea sounds lovely. I'm incredibly flexible as far as my drinks go. I even drink water."
"How do you do that without fermenting it with something?" she asked sarcastically.
"It's difficult, but somehow I've been able to adjust."
Sarah laughed as she put the kettle on and started to get the tea ready.
"So what are your hobbies, then?"
"I like painting," he said.
"Is that why you had a notebook?"
"I brought it to sketch, but I hate sketching so I had given up and was about to go home when I was attacked by a mental Roman emperor."
She grinned. "Anything else that you like doing?"
"I've been thinking of taking up running, but I've never been able to figure out why anyone would want to run unless someone is chasing them."
"Because, if you don't run when someone isn't chasing you, how are you supposed to when there is? You'll be too out of shape to go more than a few meters, and then BAM! The man who's chasing you has overtaken you. Because, I bet they practiced their running as well," she said as the kettle started to whistle.
"Well, then I'll have to start running. Then when Iggy finds me in the park again, I can outrun him."
"Good luck with that. If you think that, you're more deserving of the 'mental' tag than him."
Mark laughed. Iggy, sensing that they were talking about him, came up and put his head on Mark's lap.
"Milk or sugar?" Sarah asked.
"Just milk, thanks," he replied, scratching the dog's head. "So, what are your hobbies?"
"Well, I love running, and I was thinking that Iggy would help me get out of bed and run in the mornings."
"Did he?"
"Five in the morning. He's at my bed with his leash."
"So he did!"
"Yes, but if it's not a weekday, he waits a couple hours. I tell him to go away and come back at seven on weekends. I swear, the only thing the damn dog can do is tell time. At seven on the dot, he's back in there with his lead hanging from his mouth. Same thing at four in the afternoon on weekends. On weekdays as soon as I get home, he grabs the lead."
"So you're not stupid," Mark murmured to the dog. "Just stubborn."
"Nah. He's stupid as well. Can't find his food bowl half the time."
"Aw, be nice to the poor mutt!"
"He knows I love him, poor thing. No matter what I say, isn't that right, Iggy?" she asked the dog, which started wagging his tail.
"Oh thank you," Mark said. "You didn't do the baby voice with him."
"I think that's unnecessary," she said. "It irritates me like none other when I hear others do it."
"Same. I mean, it irritates me when people put on a baby voice at any time, but with dogs, I just want to kick them in the face."
"Ooh. Cruel," she said. "Wait. The dog or the human?"
"The dog's done nothing to offend me."
Sarah laughed. "So, now, are you going to tell me about this woman who loved someone else? I told you about my failed marriage. I think we're well beyond what you're supposed to talk about when you first meet someone."
"I think you're right. And where to begin? She was a copper. On an undercover operation when I first met her."
"Ooh, you fell in love with an undercover detective?" Sarah asked, leaning in closer.
"Yes, but it went wrong. I helped her through it afterward."
"Through what?"
"Trauma. When I say it went wrong, it went about as wrong as anything can go without death."
Sarah was quiet, her face concerned.
"Because of how traumatised she was, she thought she hated the man she loved, and came to live with me. They weren't together. I half realised their feelings, but I ignored them. I helped her through the trauma, and I fell in love with her. I shouldn't have, but I did. Eventually, I realised what I had done. She went back to live with the man she loved. And I screwed up, and came here."
"What was her name?" Sarah asked.
"Her real name was Alex. You wouldn't believe her undercover name," Mark said, silently cursing himself. Surely some of this was supposed to be kept secret. But still, everyone involved in that case was now imprisoned or dead. Including himself.
"What was it?" she said, leaning forward, a grin on her face.
"You really won't. It was...Sarah Noble."
Sarah leaned back in shock, her mouth hanging open. "Is that why you went all weird when I said my name?"
Mark nodded. "But I knew her as Alex, not Sarah. And I'm not going to see her again anyway."
Sarah stared at him, trying to figure him out.
"There's another element playing in this story that you're not telling me," she said seriously, and Mark got the terrible feeling he was about to be booted from the house.
She continued. "But I'm just a random stranger you met an hour ago. You were with the government, and the government has secrets it won't let its people tell their husbands or wives, much less strangers." She smiled. "That's okay."
Mark breathed a sigh of relief.
"Now, you said you wanted to start running. Where's your flat? Iggy and I will be there no later than 730 tomorrow."
to be continued