There is shelter in power
And promises of pain and in
Lovers and lawyers
And dogs pulling at the chain
And no one will ever get near me again
There is safety in numbers
In numbers, my friend
"Safety In Numbers"
Joan Osborne
December 10, 2012
London, England, United Kingdom
"Good to see you doing better, Mr. Travailleur. Mr. Hammersmith called this morning to check."
David cracked his eyes in response to the nurse's greeting, encountering the world through the narrow opening. His ears responded more ably.
British. She's British. I'm in London, in hospital…
His mind was finally lucid, his thoughts under his control after what seemed like forever. He chalked it up to the decrease in pain medication, for he felt the pain in his broken body more acutely than previously.
Ciel.
Thinking of her filled his body with warmth and peace, a natural analgesic. The calm only lasted for a few moments, until he remembered why he was here, far away from Switzerland and her. He heard the change in the monitor, beeping faster as his heart rate increased.
Relax, he told himself. Hammersmith was with her.
The nurse moved back and forth, documenting her work in his room, partially obscuring the television mounted on the wall opposite his bed. When she moved far enough to give him a clear view, the screen focused his attention.
On the screen was a familiar face. He was watching a local news broadcast. The image was obviously obtained via surveillance footage, a candid shot taken from above. He squinted as he struggled to hear what was being said.
David recognized the man as Lisbon, one of Hammersmith's network operatives. David hadn't had any dealing with the man for a while, his last interaction only a few months after he had started working for Hammersmith.
He listened to the newscaster. They were trying to identify the man. Apparently, he had been struck and killed in a London Tube station at some point in the past. His identity was unknown to police, and the footage the news was broadcasting was from the Tube station, minutes before the man had fallen in front of the train.
Fallen? It wasn't easy to accidentally fall like that. Considering who he was and what he was most likely doing, it was more probable that he was pushed. Just like David himself was.
Lisbon…
Something wasn't right, something nagging at him that he couldn't quite place, some internal alarm bell ringing deep inside him. When had he last heard about Lisbon, the man, in conversation?
He tried to shift sideways and gasped at the sharp pain in his hip. His broken pelvis was mended with pins and screws and the incisions left on his skin from the surgery smarted. The pain helped him focus.
Otto. Oslo. When David had fled after his meeting with Hammersmith in Zurich, he had reached out to Oslo, the tavern owner who had made the connection with Hammersmith for him. Later, that was how David had found Vienna, Hammersmith's daughter. During that phone call, Oslo had mentioned a connection with Lisbon, a way to offer assistance to both him and Vienna.
David had been struck by the car right after he had seen Vienna. He worried briefly, hoping she had not met a similar fate. Obviously someone had seen them meeting and come after him.
Someone on the inside…
The thought was bone-chilling. Had Hammersmith's network been compromised? It was hard to accept, knowing how meticulously Hammersmith vetted his operatives. But nothing else could explain what had happened to David. Someone had spooked Hammersmith in Zurich, and of course Quinn was looking for Vienna…but the precise nature of the attack on him was only possible if someone had already known where he would be. That information was passed only through the network in code.
He was still thinking, fixated on the white boxy numerals at the top of the photograph on the television, the dead man seen alive in surveillance footage for the last time.
November 12. David stared, not wanting to believe his eyes, feeling his blood turn to ice.
The man Otto had contacted as a means to procure assistance had in fact been dead for weeks before the call went through the network. Knowing the inner workings of Hammersmith's network, it was highly possible that Oslo, and even Vienna, would never have seen Lisbon in person. They operated using code words and phrases. David knew more operatives than almost anyone outside Hammersmith himself, and even then, there were some people he had never seen.
"Nurse," David gasped in panic. "I need to make a phone call. Now."
December 10, 2012
Nuremberg, Germany
The team moved cautiously through the underbrush that surrounded the castle, the location where Andros had a solid reason to believe Mary was being held. Casey was in the lead with Morgan on his right side. Sarah and Chuck were behind them. Andros was waiting, positioned strategically as both lookout and getaway.
This side of the castle had fewer guards, all of which had been easily subdued by the team with tranquilizer darts. Chuck and Sarah had moved the unconscious men off the path and out of sight. Casey could still hear Chuck's breath, huffing from the effort.
"It's nice to have you both back, Mr. and Mrs. Bartowski," Casey mumbled with a smirk.
Casey turned his head over his shoulder…in time to see a guard lunging from the brush and tackling Chuck to the ground. He moved quickly, but Sarah was quicker. She dove onto the man pinning her husband to the ground, tackling him. She grappled briefly before Casey shot the man with a tranquilizer dart.
"Are you alright?" Sarah asked urgently as she moved towards Chuck, reaching for him to help him stand.
"Yeah," Chuck huffed, shaking off the attack and quickly regaining his composure.
"Bout time things start to get back to normal around here, huh?" Casey said tightly. Sarah's smile in response reinforced the thought.
As they approached the entrance to the castle, the last two guards on this side were finally visible. From this vantage point, Casey could see they were panicking, appearing to be trying to contact their associates, unsuccessfully now that the team had disposed of everyone else. Casey took them both out with darts. It felt anti-climactic.
He turned back. "Chuck, you and Sarah stay out here and guard the door. Grimes and I are going in."
"Casey–"
"Listen, Chuck. This could be…ugly. You've been through enough." Casey had watched Chuck disintegrate slowly after he thought Sarah had been brutally killed. Finally, he seemed to be on his way back to normal. Seeing his own mother, or her body, in grisly shape was a horror Chuck didn't need. Considering Chuck's initial rage, more debilitating guilt was a real consequence here. Casey couldn't mitigate it all, but whatever he could do, he would.
Chuck was going to protest again, Casey was sure, but Sarah intervened, grasping her husband's hand and turning to face him. "He's right, Chuck."
Fortunately, Chuck listened to his wife with no resistance. They positioned themselves to guard the entrance and Casey and Morgan went inside.
"Let's go, Grimes. I need your A game."
Impressively, Morgan never flinched. Casey felt a twinge of pride to see the courage he knew was deep inside his daughter's chosen one, courage he had been initially shocked to discover, but now on which he relied.
They would need it.
{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}
The Christmas market was bustling even though it was still during the daylit afternoon. Multi-colored tents on both sides of the street spread out in every direction. Shoppers crowded the area, milling around and blocking much of the view. Ciel was used to crowds at Christmastime, Christmas markets available to shoppers in almost every city in both Switzerland and Germany. Nuremberg had the largest, and Ciel had never been before.
Since running to Switzerland to hide, she had never felt the need to shop like that, at Christmastime least of all. It was too painful, watching parents with their children, husbands and wives hand-in-hand and happy. Christmas had been overly commercialized perhaps, but at the heart of it was love and family, something she had lost and never wanted to be reminded of. She felt it pressing down on her like a weight on her chest, the misery of feeling alone in the world. In the midst of it, she felt it here again, even now.
You are no longer alone.
The voice was inside her head, but it was her late husband's voice. So familiar, but intentionally ignored for so long, it brought tears to her eyes.
Gracias, mi amor.
She bid the silent gratitude as she felt Hammersmith's hand gripping hers. She had people who cared, people who loved her now, even this man that she had believed was worthy of her hatred. She had to help him, however she could.
How were they ever going to find one woman who didn't know they were looking for her in this throng of humanity?
Echoing her sentiments, Hammersmith muttered, "This won't be easy." He pulled her forward, slowly dodging people as they moved further into the crowd. "The camera on the surveillance we saw…where might that be located? It might give us a place to start."
She was overwhelmed, both by people and her emotions, but Hammersmith fortunately was still thinking clearly. Ciel raised her head, searching the nearby buildings for evidence of cameras. Two rows to their left, Ciel saw the first camera. She pointed and Hammersmith nodded in agreement. They changed direction, weaving through the crowds on the way.
As they reached the row near the building, a distant commotion became apparent. Voices were raised, some in panic, and the crowd parted slightly. Ciel exchanged a worried look with Hammersmith, and the duo started moving through the crowd toward the disturbance.
Soon Ciel felt like she was moving against traffic, that most people were headed away from the noise. She released Hammersmith's hand as she took the lead, glancing back to make sure he could still see her and was able to follow. In front of her, a path seemed to clear. Ciel could see just a flash, what appeared to be a woman, running into the next group of shoppers in the aisle ahead. Ciel had only seen her back, but she was young and slender.
Directly in her way, Ciel believed she saw the man who was giving pursuit. He was older, apparently close to Hammersmith in age based on his overall physique and his mostly white hair. He was slightly heavier than Hammersmith, a thick layer of padding around his middle. Ciel shifted her gaze, seeing a gun in the man's right hand, the cause of the nearby panic, it seemed.
Too late, Ciel saw the afternoon sun glinting off the same gun as it was suddenly pointed at her, the man running now turning to face her. Before she could close her eyes, she was slammed from behind full force. She reached out blindly, stopping herself from crashing into the pavement face-first with hands that burned as they skidded on the ground. Hammersmith was on top of her, breathing heavily. Gunfire pinged over their heads.
She heard him cry out in the instant before he must have launched himself at her. People in the crowd started screaming, scattering more rapidly and creating more chaos behind them. Items crashed, glass broke, as people continued to flee. From her vantage point on the ground, Ciel saw the man who had taken the shot disappear up ahead, following the path of the woman.
She spun, trying to sit up, worrying that Hammersmith had been hit. "Are you alright?" she asked as she felt him struggling to right himself. He was gasping, like he couldn't catch his breath. When she could see him, she noted how pale he was. She felt him trembling.
He jumped to his feet and reached for her hand. "I'm alright. Despite the fact that I just saw a ghost."
Ciel blinked, looking at him curiously, waiting. "He's chasing someone…it could be your daughter."
"His name is Riley." Hammersmith started moving again, away from the melee and into the next group of people. "He was Volkoff's lawyer. Sarah supposedly killed him in Moscow, right before she and Chuck were married."
"He's awfully ambulatory for a dead person," Ciel panted as she hurried to match Hammersmith's gait.
Hammersmith's phone rang in his pocket. He patted his jacket and pulled out the phone, fumbling with it awkwardly to turn it on. "David?" he shouted into the phone incredulously.
His name pulled Ciel's attention away. Seeing her intensity, Hammersmith flipped the phone on speaker. Ciel thought briefly that it wasn't wise with so many people around, but there was so much clamor around them, the attention it would attract was minimal.
"Lisbon is dead." His words were sharp and loud. He sounded like himself again, not the weak wheezing she had heard when she had seen him last. Emotion swelled inside her.
"What?" Hammersmith gasped.
"No, you don't understand. He's been dead since November 12. Someone is impersonating him in the network. He's reaching out to people who had no idea what the real Lisbon looked like."
The creeping dread Ciel felt only got worse as she watched Hammersmith turn deathly white.
"Damn it," he muttered.
"Both Oslo and Amsterdam had direct contact with the imposter. I don't know what it means for you, but–"
"Vienna knows the imposter, and so do I," Hammersmith interjected. "It's a long story, but…everyone else, including Marseille, isn't safe." He looked up urgently. "Ciel, we have to go. Now."
"Ciel?" David asked, his voice suddenly gentle.
"Dieu merci, tu vas bien," she whispered into the phone.
"Soyez prudent, Mer."
He wanted her to be safe. She heard his nickname for her and her eyes filled with tears. His pun, play on words, finally clear to her. What she knew he had always meant when he said it. Sea and sky, the entire world, in his eyes.
"Je te le promets, cheri." Hammersmith clicked off the phone. Ciel felt David's absence, the hole that being away from him had caused.
The crowd in front of them swayed, like a wave. She immediately saw the woman again, moving further away from them. In the winter air, the woman ran with just a blouse and pants, no jacket. Her right arm was injured, a large blood stain standing out in contrast to her white top.
"Vivian!" Hammersmith yelled. "Ciel, she's hurt," he murmured anxiously.
They started moving again, into the next group of people. "Where is she going?" Ciel asked. "She doesn't know we're here…or that we know she's here." Vivian was running at full speed, but the pursuit and the following was slower. No breakneck speed was sustainable for long.
"I'm guessing she's figured out what David just told us. She knows exactly who Riley is. I don't know how, but he must be working with Quinn. It was always about money for him, the bastard. He knew the truth about me, who I really was…and did everything in his power to ensure I stayed Volkoff…because it made him a lot of money. Despicable."
"We'll never catch up to her at this rate," Ciel fretted.
"We just have to keep up. I'm certain she's trying to draw him away from all these people. She may have hoped she could get lost in the crowd…but couldn't get away fast enough, especially if she was injured."
Ciel thought of everything that she knew about the past, about the man who had been Hartley Winterbottom and the woman who was his daughter. They had only been together for real for about a year, but even in that time, he had taught her something of self-sacrifice. From the darkness of the past, hope was shining.
She doubled her pace, more determined than ever. She would not let anyone, or anything, dim that hope.
