Note: Happy New Year, folks! 2023 is Romy's 5th wedding anniversary! And you know what? We're planning a zine to celebrate! Check out the details at rogue-gambit-fan-zine!

And a note on this story - from here on in, the story is kind of... unfixed. Like, I had no idea where this story was going, it just kind of happened. Usually this works in my favour. The story uncovers itself as I write it. Here it was really tough. I was meandering, floundering without a purpose. That purpose is becoming clearer, but it's still not out of the proverbial woods. I've started writing this story again, from the end and kinda backwards. It's giving me an idea of where to go, but the downside is that what follows from here on in will probably need a lot of rewrites and edits, and I can't go back and do that right now, while the story is still in flux.

All this to say, please don't read this as set in stone. And if you have any remarks, comments, critiques, suggestions to make about the story, the plot, the characters, where YOU think it's going... Please don't hesitate to let me know. You might have some thoughts that I've missed. So please do feel free to let me know in the comments/reviews. They will be much appreciated! Thank you! 😊

Chapter 4

Summer's dragging its feet this year, lengthening out into blissful days spent meandering through our lives together.

I lean against the massive stone walls of the Tower of London and wait for Remy to finish his tour of the crown jewels, whiling away the time by watching the tourists walking the sun-drenched flagstones. A young couple ambles past dressed in shorts and backpacks, laughing and bantering, completely lost in one another's company. A Chinese tour guide holding a red flag hurries along her group of middle-aged charges who are more engrossed in taking photographs.

Life meanders past me like a slow-moving river. It's all so normal, so mundane. The first time I came here, back in my previous life, I'd been living under the identity of a woman named Megan, an architect who'd enjoyed contemplating the centuries' worth of blood, sweat and tears that had come together to build this place. So many different styles, so many different hands, so many different visions. The memories of a thousand years, all come together in one misshapen whole. When you see the world through other people's eyes, you see the world as it is – the sum of a myriad experiences. Anna Raven would never have seen this place the way Megan once did. She would never have learned to appreciate the colour burnt umber, or that flying a helicopter is easier than it looks, or what it's like to kiss someone under a waterfall.

Your perception becomes so coloured by the memories of others that you end up hardly knowing what is really you, and what is really somebody else.

And the truth is, I'm so used to experiencing things through the eyes of others that I'm not really sure whether the things I want belong to Anna Raven, or to somebody else.

A tall, skinny guy in his early twenties walks by, sketchpad in hand, surveying his surroundings, looking for a likely spot to serve as inspiration for his next great masterpiece.

The sun is getting uncomfortably hot, so I shift down to a shaded spot of wall, and take out my phone. There's a message from Raven, and I open it up.

When are you coming home? it says.

I frown and exit it.

The night before I'd left for England, I'd stopped over at her place to pick up a few things from my room.

"So," she'd asked quietly. "When's your flight?"

Of course, she'd guessed. There was never hiding anything from Raven.

"Tomorrow evening," I'd replied.

"And the return flight?"

"It's an open ticket."

"I see," Raven had said.

After that she'd been silent, so much so it'd felt like disapproval.

"I just want to see if this works out, Raven," I'd said; and she'd smiled a thin smile, answered:

"No, Anna. I don't think you've thought that far enough ahead. I think all you want right now is to be with him. And I don't blame you for that." Her smile had fallen, and she'd sighed before concluding: "Just know that you have a home here if you ever change you mind about where you want to be."

Later the next day Remy and I had landed in Heathrow, and there, in the parking lot, had been Jake, waiting to pick his business partner up. Not me.

He hadn't been expecting me, and as soon as he'd clapped eyes on me he'd done this double-take.

"What the fuck?!" was the first thing I'd ever heard him say; and Remy had grinned like a kid and said: "Jake, meet Anna. Anna, this is Jake. My business partner."

There had been this look on Jake's face, a kind of shocked dread, that had told me this hadn't been the first time he'd heard the name 'Anna'. I wasn't sure then if it was dislike he felt for me, or whether I'd failed to meet his expectations. It may just have been that the shock of it all had rendered him speechless. At any rate, he hadn't looked too pleased to see me, and after that, he'd made it clear he was still didn't quite know what to think about me.

I chew thoughtfully on my bottom lip.

I'd fit right into Remy's life with an ease that I hadn't thought about then, but that surprises me now. The honeymoon of those first few weeks together had blinded me to some things. Like the fact that four weeks previous to my showing up, another woman had been sleeping in his bed. That Remy had his own life set up already, and I was just slotting all my stuff into the spaces he hadn't filled in yet. That Jake hadn't been happy when Remy had invited me to join Gavin & Lord. That a lot of the jobs were run-of-the-mill, and way below my skill-set – not to mention Remy's.

I remember that first day Remy had taken me along to Gavin & Lord; the look Jake had given me, as if to say, what the hell is she doing here? I'd ignored it then, shielded as I'd been by Remy's affections; but I'd changed the dynamic in his relationship with his business partner, and I'd known, instinctively, that Jake resented me for it.

In fact, the only thing we'd ended up agreeing on was taking on Wisdom's job, though for totally different reasons. For Jake, it had been greed and libido. For me, it has been the chance for something more than just run-of-the-mill hustling. Suddenly I'd been back in the thrill of identity theft and interfacing, back in the comforting embrace of what I did best – not being myself.

I was Carmen Klein, a person whose choices I had held no responsibility for, a husk I could wear and then discard without a second thought.

The brooding tenor of my thoughts are pleasantly derailed by Remy suddenly appearing, slipping a hand round my waist and pressing a kiss against my cheekbone.

"Hey, chere," he greets me. "Sorry I kept ya waitin'."

I smirk, pocket my phone, and push myself away from the wall.

"Productive tour?" I ask him.

"Nah. I just sat back and enjoyed the view mostly. Looks like they got someone new on staff though."

I smirk. This has to be about the fifth time he's been to see the crown jewels since I've been here, and I still don't get his obsession with them. He swears that he has no intention of stealing them, that it's all just professional curiosity – how it could be done, how the security systems could be beaten. I'm not convinced he won't actually go ahead and pull the heist one day. I laugh as we begin to walk down the unevenly laid grey flagstones, heading in the vague direction of the exit.

"You got some balls, Cajun, planning a heist right in the middle of the Tower of London!" I chide him playfully. "They catch ya, they won't have to take you far! The iron maiden's just round the corner!"

He chuckles and squeezes my waist, right in a spot he knows is ticklish.

"Beb, I ain't gonna steal the crown jewels. Don't'cha worry."

I snort disbelievingly.

"So why do you keep casing out the place?"

He shrugs.

"Professional curiosity? Guess I jes' wanna know how it could be done."

I tut half irritably, half affectionately. He's told me, in detail, several times, exactly how it could be done. Unfortunately for him, security keeps switching things up every now and then, which I guess is why he keeps coming back here.

"You're a bad liar, Remy LeBeau," I respond airily as we walk the grey flagstones towards the exit. "You're planning a heist, and it's only a matter of time before you actually go ahead and do it."

He laughs, so free and easy, the kind of laugh I'd never heard back when we'd first met in the States.

"That is the laugh of a hustler about to embark on his next caper," I shoot at him, amused. "Don't even try to deny it!"

"A'right," he rejoins helplessly. He dips into his jeans pocket and pulls out a flyer, hands it to me. "Take a look at this."

I unfold it and run a sceptical glance down it.

"Top Secret. Ever dreamt of being a spy or secret agent? Then join our immersive theatre experience at the Tower of London! Explore parts of the venue not usually open to the public, as you take on a secret mission to find confidential documents in the grounds, while learning about the history of the Tower's long and bloody history!" I side eye him. "Remy, are you suggestin'—?"

"That we pull a heist while takin' part in an immersive theatre experience about secret agents?" He plucks the flyer from my hands and deposits it back in his pocket. "Hell, it's just about the best idea I've ever had!"

I raise a half-playful, half-irritated eyebrow at him.

"You're just getting cocky now, Cajun!"

"Aw, you wound me, chere!" He throws me a mock pout. "I ain't gonna steal the Crown Jewels. I'm just gonna borrow them."

I can't believe he's talking so freely about this in the middle of the actual Tower of London, with all these tourists around him.

"You sure know how to play fast an' loose with semantics, sugar," I chastise him.

"It's not semantics, chere. I borrow them, for a few days. I return them."

"Why the hell would you do that? Surely not as an exercise in pointing out security's weaknesses to them!"

"Non." He pulls me in a little closer, leans into my ear and murmurs: "I jes' have dis wild fantasy of you wearin' all that fancy regalia. Absolutely butt naked. I can't think of anythin' hotter right now."

"Remy," I stop stark still and level him a suitably upbraiding look. "Are you tryin' to tell me that you're thinkin' of stealin' the Crown Jewels just to use them in some dirty photoshoot you're plannin' on me starrin' in?"

The grin he lays on me is utterly shameless.

"Oh Anna," he drawls, wrapping both arms round my waist and drawing me in close. "A photoshoot? Non, chere. We use them as props. In some much more fun games."

Any lesser woman would probably have blushed. Me being me, however, with the sordid memories of hundreds of unknown strangers floating round my head… stuff like this really doesn't phase me.

"And you want to return the props after we've played with them?" I slide my fingers up towards his shoulders. "Remy, that has to be the most depraved thing you've ever suggested to me."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he purrs, leaning in closer. "Does this mean you're in on this caper, ma chere? Cos I'd hate not t'have you as my partner-in-crime."

Gawd. I think sometimes he concocts these degenerate ideas just to watch my reaction.

"I'll definitely think about it" I promise, grabbing his jacket and pulling him down into a shamelessly passionate kiss.

Which is promptly interrupted when Remy's back pocket starts vibrating.

"Merde," he mutters crossly. "That's Jake's pattern. Guy has a habit of callin' durin' office hours when I'm on vacation."

"Must be important then," I note sourly.

"Hmph," he grunts, loosening his hold on me and retrieving his phone. "He'd better have a damn good excuse for this intrusion."

We retreat into a little niche in the fortified walls as Remy takes the call on speaker phone. Jake doesn't even bother greeting us.

"You guys need to come in," he says. Remy and I share a look. From his frantic tone, it sounds suspiciously like he isn't going to take no for an answer.

"Why?" Remy asks him. "Did Jubilee manage to spill nail varnish on her keyboard again?"

"Ha." Jake's voice almost has a hysterical edge to it, one hardly consistent with a make-up related mishap from our spunky new secretary. "No. We just got a last-minute appointment with an old client."

Don't ask me how, but somehow I know exactly who he's talking about. So, apparently, does Remy.

"Pete Wisdom," he says. I suppress a flutter. It's less Wisdom himself than the anticipation of what he might want us for.

"Yep," Jake is replying. He doesn't elaborate. Remy raises his eyes to mine and pulls an expressively unimpressed face.

"What time?" he asks, obviously resigning himself to the inevitable.

"Two. You guys able to make it?"

He glances at his watch. It's one thirty.

"Give us about 45, and we should make it," he answers. "He'll haveta wait. Just get Jubilee to entertain him in the meantime. That'll keep him occupied."

Jake snickers at that.

"You're a cruel man, LeBeau. But don't you worry. I have some entertainment in mind."

And he hangs up before Remy can make some off-colour comment.

The look he passes me is helplessly apologetic.

"Another job?" I suggest.

"Yeah," Remy is saying. "Probably."

He doesn't sound happy about it. Of course, he'd never been the one gunning for the Marko job in the first place, and his low opinion of Wisdom isn't exactly a secret. As for me… well, I'm not quite sure what to think of it. I'd enjoyed the Marko job; but on the other hand, there had been things about it that had ended up being far too… personal for comfort.

The look Remy is giving me is penetrating.

"Why? You in a mind to take another job from Wisdom?"

His tone is sarcastic and I grimace at him.

"You think Wisdom would be in a mind to take no for an answer?"

"Peh. I don't much give a shit what Wisdom wants. One job from him is more than enough for me." I don't know whether he realises it, but the look he shoots me on the tail-end of that sentence is so pointed that I instantly feel the need to defend myself.

"I had my reasons for taking that job," I say.

"Oh yeah?" He lifts an eyebrow, frowning. "Like what?"

"Like getting my teeth stuck into something a little higher octane than the usual fare," I reply teasingly. I reach out and rearrange the lapels of his jacket coyly, trying not to let on just how high octane that job had really ended up being. If anything, Remy's eyebrow rises even higher.

"Then I hope it was worth it, chere. 'Cos eight weeks of not bein' able to get my teeth stuck into you was almost more than I could bear."

I laugh silkily.

"Well, I guess I didn't figure that job would take so long. And you know what they say. Sometimes you just bite off more than you can chew."

And how, I think darkly to myself.

I pat his chest affectionately and move out of the niche, deciding I'm done with this conversation.

"Ha. Yeah." He follows me, his hand slipping round my waist once more. His tone is light-hearted again, enough to tell me he hasn't taken any offense. "Think I did that when I first met you."

I can't help but smile.

"Well, darlin'," I reply, "you weren't the only one. Two years later and I'm still chewing on you."

-oOo-

Anna is silent, preoccupied, during most of the journey to Gavin & Lord. She'd been like this a few days right after the Marko job, to the point that I'd been worried the quickfire interfacing session with the mem-chip had affected her. But she'd been okay after a weekend of pleasurable distractions in the bedroom.

Now she's back at it, and I'm beginning to wonder whether Wisdom himself doesn't have somethin' to do with it.

The idea bothers me, in ways I don't wanna think about.

Fifty minutes later, and we're standing outside the fancy bronze plaque that says 'Gavin & Lord'.

While Anna is pretty much a partner in the business now, I know she won't be adding her name to it any time soon. Anna Marie Raven ain't s'pposed to exist for one thing. At least, I know Anna would prefer it that way. She swaps identities like underwear. To her, it's a fluid thing. Anna is a woman only a select few have ever gotten to know. Sometimes, with all she's been through, I wonder just how grounded she really is.

We step up to the beautiful white Georgian building that is our headquarters, and the door automatically unlocks once the neural scanner reads us. Jubilation Lee, our brand-new secretary, is sitting behind her smart new desk, brightening up the entire lobby with her neon yellow skirt suit, hot pink nails and lipstick, and flashy blue earrings that match her flashy blue eyeshadow.

"There's some hot dude in the conference room with Jake," she greets us laconically as we enter. "And before you ask, yes, I turned on the mics and the recorders when I brought in the coffee. And I helpfully took his jacket for him – not that there's anything interesting in the pockets. I already checked."

See, I love this kid. Hong Kong-born, US-educated, graduate from the school of Don't-Take-No-Shit. Every day I thank my lucky stars she decided to quit fashion school and go into the private sector. This kid learns fast.

"Didn't think there would be, Jubes," I grin breezily at her. "This guy's pretty slick. You offer him some coffee?"

"Coffee, tea, brandy, whiskey, wine, Coke, Pepsi, Sprite, milk, Horlicks, and a strawberry banana milkshake. He only wanted water. Jake gave me the look that said don't put any sedatives in." She pauses as I look momentarily confused, adds in a deadpan: "That was a joke, by the way."

Anna's already over at the coat stand, double-checking his pockets.

"Yup," she declares after a moment. "He's clean. At least his jacket is."

"Huh. Short of friskin' the guy, you ain't gon' find nothin' on him," I muse. "You ready to head in, Anna?"

"Yeah." She sounds less than enthusiastic, and I can't blame her.

"Anything I can get you guys to drink?" Jubilee calls after us as we walk towards the conference room.

"Water!" we both shout back over our shoulders.

"All right. That all?"

I pause. I turn back and lean in over her desk, adding quietly: "Yeah. Those mics you switched on in there? I'm gonna send ya a number, and I want ya to patch the recording in to it."

She nods. I know I can trust her. I walk back over to the door and get out my phone. I thumb through my contacts and open up the one I'm going to send to Jubilee.

It's Raven Darkholme's.

-oOo-