I know it was sad to see the end of the Girl in Memory. It was kind of sad to write it, but I do have another NCIS fanfic. The Girl In Memory: Spooks Edition. And I am here to present to you all a preview. This is NOT the same as The Girl in Memory. It will share the same basic plotline, and have some similar parts, but it IS a different story entirely. By the way I do not own NCIS or Spooks, just a vague disclaimer. :D

THE GIRL IN MEMORY

Spooks Edition

By ThroughtheMirrorDarkly

CHAPTER ONE

"A MILLION MILES TO GO"

March 7, 2005

London, England

John Bateman made a mistake, and Lucas North had to pay for it. John Bateman had worked for Vaughn Edwards, and delivered packages. He never thought that there were anything deadly, certainly not legal, but not deadly. Until he delivered a bomb that killed 17 people at the British Embassy. John had soon after became Lucas North, suppressing the memory deep down within him. He had become a chameleon, changing and adapting to survive. Pearce had known. Pearce had always know who he truly was, and Lucas couldn't help but to wonder if he was the one being played all along. If he who thought he was the main pieces on the board, was all along a pawn.

The shadows of the buildings rose above the lane, painting it all black. The edges of his vision shifted, and darkened threatening to bring him down. But he always got out. He always did.

And now, how do you expect to get out of this one? Lucas North thought with more than little bit of irony. He stumbled down through the alleyway with a glare in his blue eyes as he forced himself to keep on moving. The pain throbbed and ached like whitehot flames licking up his thigh, and he bit back the bile rising up his throat. His breath were sharp, uneven and rattled through his lungs. He had to stay on his feet. If he let himself collapse now, it would all be over.

And he had been through worse.

So much worse that he couldn't let a bullet wound to the leg bring him down. He was not a noble crusader fighting for a cause, at least not anymore. He had become disillusioned with it all. He had become weary to death of his need to save the world, no longer bearing the same reason he did when he first joined MI-5. He had considered becoming a traitor, turning over information to Vaughn who would turn it over to the Chinese and he almost had because more than anything he wanted a future. A future with Maya…but now, she was gone. Dead. The pain was agonizing, searing through his chest. There were few people in this world that he truly loved, and Maya was one of them. Her death would haunt him for a long time. In the end, he had left the useless file on the rooftop along with Pearce. They all thought he jumped to his death, but he always had a way out. It was the first thing you learned when you became a spy.

Now, he had no choice, but to flee. His own country would not hold him, and there were few others that would take him. China was out. They would not like his double cross anymore than the British liked his almost betrayal. He would not go to Russia. He would rather walk into the British Embassy and surrender himself than do that. America had in the end been his choice. They would grant him asylum for all the information he knew on Britian, Russia and even more. In the world of spies, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Now, if he could only make it there alive.

Unfortunately, while the MI-5 believed him to be dead, not everyone else did and enemies he had made in the past had come back to take him out. They no longer had to fear retaliation, and Lucas knew that until the deal was sealed he would have to keep one eye open. Even after, he would still be paranoid. But, he thought humorlessly, was it paranoia when they were truly out to get you? He heard words, brisk and hard and Russia whispered out from somewhere nearby causing him to halt for a brief moment. He sure as hell wasn't going to let some Russians out for revenge for Arkady Kachimov, haul him back to wherever they intended and torture him. "Not again. Never again," he hissed, through his clenched teeth. Gun in hand he slowed his sprinting to a job, his eyes moving around the darken streets using the garbage container to conceal him from the men at the end of the alleyway. Best way to stay safe was to get them before they got him.

He checked his ammo, and now he had to be focused enough to shoot. He wanted the hell out of there and was going to make it happen. When Lucas shut down all his emotions, he became a machine and men died. It was that simply.

He had to get pat the entrance of the alley, blocked more Russian mobsters. They had known he would be here, that much was certain and he wondered which country that offered him sanctuary sold him out, but that didn't matter right now. He felt a twinge of alarm when he recognized, Stravos Tarasov. He was a vicious, blood thirsty man who loved 'breaking' people, particularly women. He didn't mind however helping Arkaray to try to break Lucas. A snarl came to his face, and his hands shook as his hold tightened on his gun. If Tarasov was here, then this was more serious than he first realized. He watched Tarasov speak to his men before heading down the dock and onto the boat. Lucas narrowed his eyes, taking in the situation carefully. He'd never be able to take them all on, but he could take out the two guards watching the cars then he could take one of the vehicles. He'd have to shot out the other vehicles tires which ran the risk of getting shot again, but it was risk he had to take.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the silencer and screwing it onto the end of his gun. He had to move before the two goons who had been chasing him caught up. Heart pounding in his chest, he started forward again. His footsteps virtually soundless against the concrete, and he was on the guards before they knew it. He sent a bullet right through one's skull, and the other lunged at him. A well placed punch straight to his trachea, had the man grasping and choking. Another bullet fired, and he made a last choking noise before his body collapsed to the ground. Lucas scanned the area one last time before he rushed to the nearest car and slipped into it. His hands ran around the steering wheel, feeling for the keys. A jolt of relief rushed through his fingers hit him, but it was gone with the sound of shouts. Clenching his jaw, he pointed his gun at the tires of the two other vehicles and blew them out. They exploded with loud burst, and he slammed the door shut on the car while twisting the key.

The next few seconds happened fast. He shifted in gear, and put a lead foot on the gas while bullets went flying around him. He heard the rearview window shatter as he hit reserve and his fingers slammed down on the lock button just in time for one man tried to pull the door open. The tires spun with a squeal and the car peeled out and away from the docks. Lucas kept his head down, until the sound of gunfire had become a distant echo. His heart was hammering inside of his chest, wildly and madly. As soon as he could, he turned off the main road. It was a rookie mistake to stay on the main stretch of road, thinking you were in the clear. His breath were loud, and reverberated through his entire being. His scalp prickled, nervously and he wiped the sweat from his brow. He reached down, his hand brushing his bag of things that he had stored on a boat and inanely he wondered which person sold him out this time.

Hopefully not the Americans, since they were the ones he was going to meet. He had little choice at this point though, and a wave of dizziness flooded through. Mentally cursing, he clumsily searched through the car until he came across a bottle of pills in the glove compartment. He quickly read the name of the drug, and realized it was a clever name for cocaine pills. Twisting the bottle open, he swallowed one of the pills. He had to stay awake, and he had to stay alert.

He also noticed that this car wasn't just anyone's car. It was Tarasov's personal vehicle which only made him laugh, sardonically. Stealing a major Russia crime lord's car was asking for trouble, but hell, Lucas was already deep in it already. What was little bit? He carefully scanned the roads, and checked his rearview mirrors dutifully. No lights, no other cars were to be seen. He let out a breath, and pressed down on the gas a little more firmly.

The ride was uneventful and took twenty minutes, but there were some of the longest that Lucas had ever experienced in his entire life. And yet, at the same time it was all too soon that he found himself there at the rendezvous point. He stared at the men standing in front of the plane ever patient. He took at deep breath, and collected himself before reaching in the back seat snagging Tarasov's silk jacket that probably cost a few thousand dollars, and wrapped it tightly around his wounded leg. He got a little more glee out of it than he should, he thought watching the jacket soak up the blood for a moment. Then taking a deep breath, he shoved the car door open and stumbled out.

Three men stood, and in blue jackets with three yellow letters on their outfits. FBI. The Federal Bureau of Investigation hadn't been his first choice, he would have preferred the CIA or Homeland Security to deal with, but he didn't have the time or connections anymore to warrant such a thing. He reluctantly let them search him, and take his bag and gun from him. He had to swallow back all his instinct that told him to lash out while he stared steadily ahead at the man who seemed to be in charge.

He wasn't tall man, but he wasn't exactly short either. He was balding, and his face worn with age and troubles. However, there was a glint in his eye that let Lucas know that this was a man he could get along with rather well, and someone that he didn't want as his enemy. When the two backed away from their search, the third man stepped forward.

"John Bateman?" The man asked, carefully.

Lucas grimaced. "I prefer Lucas North, actually," he corrected the FBI agent, carefully. "You Agent Fornell?" Lucas North replied, his tone just wary.

A light smirk graced Fornell's lips. "They said you were good, but I didn't expect you to actually here with all the Russians gunning for you," Fornell quipped, his eyes staring intently over North silently gauging him.

"You knew about the Russians?" Lucas asked, eyebrow raised. He was always best when he was suspicious.

"I know a lot of things," Fornell said, with an uncaring shrug. "What about you, North? What do you know?"

"I know a little about a lot of things," Lucas said, conversationally with his trademark smirk. "Just enough to make me dangerous."

"Of that I have no doubt," Agent Fornell said, with a humorless smile. He gestured towards the plane. "Shall we?" He asked, eyebrow raised.

Lucas put up no argument, and made no sudden movements ever wary of the eyes lingering on him filled with distrust. It was only natural they distrust him. He was a spy from another country, a spy who had betrayed his country once unknowingly and almost did it again knowingly. He made his way up to the plan, wincing with ever step and he let out a long breath once he was able to sit down. Fornell immediately summoned their medicinal personal, and asked, "Need something for that leg, North?"

"Already had something," Lucas said, finishing out the bottle of pill and tossing them to Fornell.

Fornell caught it, more swiftly than Lucas thought the man capable of. Fornell's hazel eyes flickered down to the bottle, with a frown. "Cocaine capsules?" Fornell cocked up an eyebrow. "Didn't take you for a drug user."

"I don't," Lucas said, flinching as the medical personal took a look at his leg. The man had to poke, and prodded after swabbing the wound clean with alcohol. "But unfortunately, circumstances and all that," he shrugged, or tried to.

"Clean through. No bone broken either," the doctor said, frankly amazed. "You are very lucky."

Lucas and Fornell both snorted. Lucas tested the bandages after the doctor was finished wrapping the leg, and he felt his nerves ease as the motion of the plane beginning to take off. Just a free more hours than I will be free, Lucas thought, closing his eyes. Or at least, as few as person like me can be.

Absentmindedly, he picked up Tarasov's jacket and laid it beside him when something caught his attention.

Now what is this, Lucas pulled free the piece of paper from the jacket pocket and found it was photograph. A name had been inscribed on the back in red ink, Evelyn. Slowly and curiously, he flipped it over and found himself staring at angel face beauty. Her skin was the color of cream and looked as soft as porcelain. She had a soft square jaw belying a deep strength, with soft plush lips paired with an aquiline nose. Her eyes were blue with specks of gray hidden within them, and were soft filled with a bright, innocent kind of light. Her lips were pulled out in a bright smile, and she looked genuinely happy sitting in the grass enjoying what appeared to a picnic. Yet there was something so heartbreaking fragile about her as if one word could shatter her happy existence and turn it all dark. His finger glided over the glossy paper, a smear of blood traveling in its wake. She didn't look like Tarasov's usual pickings, and was significant enough for the man to keep a picture in his breast pocket.

"What is that?" Fornell caught him staring at the photo.

Lucas eyes flickered up, and he shot Fornell a long debating look. He, for reason beyond him, didn't want to hand the photo over. There was something magnetic about the girl, but he was here to cooperate with the FBI after all. It was best to start cooperating. He held the photo towards Fornell, and quirked up a half smile. "You tell me."

Two and Half Years Later

Washington D.C.

July 18th, 2008

Washington D.C. was thriving with life, even at dusk. There was an energy humming through the concrete up through the soles of her feet, and pulsed through her toes all the way up to her head. Evelyn Matthew's blue eyes darted all around her, and she shifted the book bag on her aching her shoulder. She reached up and tugged her hood further over her head, encasing her face further in shadows. She could never stop looking over her shoulder, it was too engrained in her now. She had made decisions the last few years that had consequences that would always follow her, and the giant blue stone on her bracelet was heavy. Maybe half that was guilt, but the other half…well, it was best not to think about it. She crossed the street towards the diner, it was nothing fancy, but it wasn't gaudy like other places she been to before. Evelyn pressed her palm against the metal handle and shoved the door open gently. Above her a bell jingled announcing her, and causing her to wince.

"I'll be with you in a minute, hun," a voice from somewhere in the back called out.

Evelyn paused for the briefest of seconds before scanning the diner for a seat that wasn't out in the open, and where she wouldn't have her back towards any doors. Finally finding a seat where she would be most comfortable, she slipped off her book bag and set it in the seat beside her to discourage anyone else from sitting beside her. Her finger drew the zipper open and carefully, pulled her laptop out. She set it up in front of her on the table when the sound of high heels clicking against the laminate floor made her jerk her head up to see a waitress making her way towards her.

She was an older lady, in a simple red polka dot dress with a white apron wrapped around her waist. Evie could smell her perfume from three feet away, and the sharp smell sent a spike of pain through her skull. Rubbing her temples, she tried work up a smile as the waitress came to a stop beside her table. "What can I get you, hun?" The waitress asked, kindly.

"I…uh," Evelyn reached out, fumbling with the menu. "The…the number four, but can I have that with a coffee?"

"You can, but I have to warn you it's a day old," the waitress wrote the order down on her pad.

"The best kind," Evelyn said, with a half smile.

The waitress chuckled. "If you say so," she said, amused before turning on her heel and headed back towards the kitchen leaving Evelyn in peace. She waited until the woman was out of sight before she turned on the computer. There were several thoughts swirling around her mind, as she fished out a receipt that was crumbled in her pocket and a pen out of her bag. Evelyn hastily scrawled the steps of her plan, on the back of the recipe. She scrutinized the words for several seconds, before a satisfied feeling soothed the nerves prickling along her skin.

Step One: Finding a House.

Step Two: Require the job.

Step Three: Take it from there.

Okay, so admittedly her plan was simple and incomplete, but Evelyn was in a situation that normally people didn't find themselves in. Then again admittedly normal people did not have the kind of life that she had, she thought with a mirthless smile. She had to play it by ear, and had to do so carefully. While her line of work wasn't illegal (mostly), she had made enemies as the aches and throbs across her body reminded her. She tugged the sleeves of her shirt down to hide the cuts and burns. She glanced around the diner, the air smelt of grease and days old coffee. She took note that there was only a waitress, and two cooks working her at this time. She pinched the bridge of her nose as the fluorescent light above her buzzed nosily, only making her headache turn into a full blown migraine. With slow and steady breath, she pulled out her laptop from her bag and set it in front of her. Her heart thudded in her chest, anticipation pulsing through her veins like a living thing. She returned her stare down to the laptop that sat in front of her as she shifted to get more comfortable.

Evelyn had been called many names in her lifetime, but none of them were so much as important as Kelly Gibbs. It had been years…so many years since she had been called that name, at least by someone that mattered. It hit her more than ever as she stared at the NCIS application that she was currently filling out. She was going for a simple filing job, something under the radar but would bring her in constant contact with one person that Evelyn wished to avoid, and yet see more than anything.

Her father, Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

She ran a hand over her face, as her eyes scanned the application once more. She made her application nice, opting to leave off certain things because one they would look at her weirdly and ask why she wanted a desk job and two, it would probably raise more suspicion than she was comfortable with. The last thing that she needed was anyone suspicion. A loud bang from in the kitchen made her jolt, her spine stiffened as she was immediately plunged back into a dark memory. The rain was pouring, harsh and unrelenting. Someone running, their footsteps loud against the slick asphalt. A loud crack echoed through the night, and a body fell as blood splattered-

"Hon? Hon, are you alright?" The waitress asked.

Evelyn jolted, and jerked her head up. All the blood drained out of her face, and her blue eyes wide with panic. "What?" She asked, then shook her head ever so slightly. "Yes, I'm fine," Evie managed to put on a convincing smile. The waitress looked unconvinced, but did not say anything as she set down the plate of eggs and bacon down in front of Evelyn then poured her a cup coffee. "Thank you," Evelyn said, politely.

"Your welcome," the waitress smiled slightly before she walked away. Evelyn watched the woman walked away, she ran her fingers through her hair and drew a breath. She didn't know if she had a right to do this. To go try to pick up the pieces of a past that was perhaps best forgotten and stowed away, but there was this deep ache in her chest ever since the memories resurfaced. A constant longing in the pit of her heart that raked through like shattered glass every time her heart made a beat. The images of her mother (not the ones from her nightmares, where she was bloody and in pieces), and her dad before the accident happened. Before her dad got sent off for war.

The good times, before everything went to shit. Sometimes, she just hated her memories. The bad ones, the good ones, it didn't matter. The bad ones were bad, and thinking of the good ones only led to remembering the bad things. Evelyn let out a long breath, her hands massaging the tension muscles of her neck and she closed her eyes. A pang of guilt hit her, and she stabbed the fork into her eggs before shoving a large bit into her mouth. Thoughtfully she chewed it, and she begin to consider her options.

She had to got to the FBI, CIA, or NCIS. That was a given, but she felt herself leaning towards NCIS more and more. She couldn't quite quell the need to see her father even if she did not tell him who she was part. A small part of her wanted to more than anything. The other part of her told that it was child's dream. It was had been so many years. Too many years. It would make things unnecessary complicated, and would not be good for anyone involved she told herself. The bacon crunched in her mouth, and she followed it down with the stale coffee. Tapping her fingers across the keyboard, she looked at the screen with narrowed eyes as her jaw locked. Determination glinted in her bluish grey eyes, and she finished up her application and sent it in before she could change her mind.

As she closed the window, she paused at the picture of her father that she came face to face with. She missed him. She could honestly admitted that with no shame or regret. It's why even after all these years she checked on him every so often. Most days Evelyn could keep the ghosts at bay, but there were some days that Kelly would not be put to rest. She took down the picture with a heavy heart while solemnly swearing that she would not dig up that past, no matter how much a part her wanted to.

Too bad she was never good at keeping promises to herself.

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