August 20th, 2007 -  Milan, Italy

Alessandra slid the dress down over her body and smoothed it into place. Getting dressed up for dinner was the last thing she wanted to do, especially after a long day of marching back and forth in heels so high that she feared having nosebleeds. Unfortunately, her taskmistress, Francesca Ricci, wouldn’t have it any other way.

The dress was a short blue floral sundress that came down to mid-thigh, with thin spaghetti straps that reached across her shoulders. It was undeniably a pretty dress, and it looked concerningly good on her. It was something that made her feel more than a little uncomfortable.

Alessandra regarded her reflection in the mirror and frowned. The girl looking back at her was rather pretty, and she was still struggling with how that made her feel. On one hand, she loved how she looked, from her blonde hair flowing freely over her shoulders to her subtle but elegant makeup. On the other hand, it troubled her that she could look like this, worse yet, that she enjoyed it.

The progress she had made at Signora Ricci’s hands was astounding. In only three weeks of her intensive coaching, she had managed to learn so very much. More than she had ever expected to do. It was so much progress that they had moved up her operational start date to the following week. What troubled her more than the impending mission was that she was beginning to feel comfortable this way. She knew it was wrong, but she pushed those feelings aside.

Alessandra was about to slip her feet into a pair of three-inch stilettos when she changed her mind. When Francesca had instructed her to dress for dinner, she had expected her to continue the day’s heel practice. With her feet still aching from the day’s activities, she threw caution to the wind and selected a pair of pretty flat sandals instead. Francesca could tell her off if she wanted to, but she was going to allow her poor feet some rest. She had already more than mastered sashaying around in the terrible torture devices; a few hours would not harm her progress.

The house that the Agency was using for their work was located just outside the northern Italian city of Milan, nestled within the beautiful Lombardy countryside. Here, the light seemed to hold a different quality, and the world seemed just a little more desaturated than back home in America. Time felt slower, and life felt more meaningful.

Stepping out onto the patio, the air was still warm and heavy from the heat of the day. Dusk was just beginning to creep in around the edges as shadows grew longer. It was a beautiful evening, and it made the assignment feel more like a vacation.

Alessandra spotted her mentor standing on the patio with a glass of wine in hand. She was wearing an elegant white maxi dress that looked simply divine against her tanned olive skin. Alessandra was irritated by how the woman somehow always managed to look so effortlessly stylish. At least, she would if she actually cared, that is.

Alessandra coughed lightly to gain her attention, but Ricci was aware of her presence already.
“You are not wearing heels,” she pointed out, by way of greeting, without turning around. “What good is your practice if you do not dress appropriately?”

“How did you?”

“Know?” Francesca asked, turning around and raising an eyebrow. “I do not hear the heel, but the flat slap of you not learning.”

Alessandra poured herself a glass of wine at the table and shrugged. “Surely,” she postulated, “it is a more diligent test for me to maintain my posture and walk correctly without their assistance? You ran me ragged today, and I think I’m going to explode if I have to hobble around in another pair of stilts.”

Francesca smiled and nodded slightly, “Tutto Bene, I will let you off this once. You are indeed making excellent progress,” she conceded. “As far as I can tell, you will be more than ready in time for your operation.”

“I can’t believe that I’m actually here doing this,” Alessandra mused as she lowered herself into a chair, smoothing her dress behind her as she sat. “None of this feels real.”

“Because it is not,” Ricci answered as she joined her. “The entire reason for this project is to create a falsehood. Although I will admit that you certainly blur that line a little.”

Alessandra inclined her head. “How so? Beyond the obvious.”

Francesca waved a hand in a very Italian manner, “Not because your Central Intelligence Agency wants me to turn a boy into a beautiful girl.  Rather, because with you, it was so easy to accomplish.”

Alessandra did not know what to say, but Francesca continued unabated. “The process of making a young man look like una donna… a woman, it is not so hard. It is makeup, hair, tape, and clothes. With the right clay, you can teach a monkey to smoke cigarettes.”

Alessandra grinned, “Are you mixing your metaphors, or are you calling me a monkey?”

Fancessca smiled and shook her head, “No, not a monkey, but I think you made my work so easy.”

“That’s just what a guy wants to hear,” Alessandra mused. “Fantastic legs, great ass, easy to look like a girl.”

“Your looks are a small part of it, yes, Mia Cara,” Francesca agreed. “The more difficult part of this assignment was to get you to behave like a woman and thus to think like one. In your case, your biggest asset, it is your mind. It is not taking me anywhere near as much work as it might to get you to behave properly.”

Alessandra considered the thought, “I’m sure my bosses will be pleased. Make sure you put that in my performance report.”

“No, Alessandra, that is not what I mean,” Francesca replied evenly. “You have a natural femininity that was easy to unveil. I think it is less that you are a good actor, more that this is something that comes so easily to you.”

“But I’m a man,” she insisted.

“You think people are really so simple?” Francesca raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes the way someone is born is not who they are truly meant to be. Sometimes, all it takes is a push for them to find their true path. To me, it is clear that you are meant for so much more than being a man, Mia Cara.”

Alessandra could not bring herself to look her mentor in the eye. Looking down was entirely the wrong decision too; all she saw was a pair of tanned, smooth legs crossed demurely under her skirt. Looking out over the countryside beyond the garden, she blinked as strands of her hair blew across her face. Unconsciously, she tucked her hair back behind her ear and frowned.

She wasn’t meant to feel like this, and she was more than a little ashamed that Francesca had noticed it too. The feelings that she was experiencing were deeply unsettling and more than a little terrifying. She was meant to be a man, yet she was starting to feel far more comfortable this way. The scariest part was, that if she was honest with herself, she had never felt more alive than she did in those last three weeks.

She had no idea what it all meant, but she knew that she had to focus on her work before anything else. Her personal life and identity crisis was a secondary consideration here, and one that could wait until she returned from her mission. Perhaps she might take some time and explore her feelings in private, where she could unpack things in safety. That felt like the responsible thing to do. Until then, she would let nature take its course; it was clearly a benefit to her.

 

 

May 31st, 2014 -  Milan, Italy.

The car made its way slowly through the dense traffic of Milan’s afternoon rush hour. While outside the world was a chaotic miasma of noise and engine fumes, the air-conditioned interior of the Porsche Cayenne was cool and tranquil by comparison.

Ryan gazed idly out at the pedestrians on the sidewalk as they passed by, lost in his own thoughts. Leaving Alessandra behind had been a defence mechanism, one to protect him from the torment that she had faced in Saudi Arabia. Releasing her now, even for a higher purpose, felt like she was lighting a fuse that could detonate at any moment. Sitting on an emotional time bomb felt quite uncomfortable indeed.

“What are you thinking about?”

Alessandra turned toward Francesca and shrugged, “Everything and nothing.”

“My girl, you look as though the world is ending. Is it really so bad?”

Alessandra shook her head, which elicited an entirely new feeling as her hair grazed her bare shoulders. The sensation was still unfamiliar, but it reminded her of a time so very long ago. “I recognize how this will be tactically beneficial, but it doesn’t mean that I’m comfortable with doing it yet.”

Francesca snorted, “Tactical? That was your CIA talking. I want to know how you feel.”

“And you know that is a complicated question,” Alessandra replied. She made a face and plucked at her top to highlight her point. “As strange as this is, I don’t feel uncomfortable, exactly. This may not be for work, but it is for a purpose, I guess. I can do what I have to do to make sure that Béatrice is safe. I will cope with whatever else follows, I have to.”

Francesca reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind Alessandra’s ear and smiled. It was a very maternal gesture, and it reminded her of the special time they had spent together so very long ago.

“I ‘ave sent your photographs off to my man. He says he will have your documents ready by morning.”

“What names did you put on the documents?” Alessandra asked. She was curious to know what her mentor had picked, but she was equally nervous for some reason.

“You are to be Sabine and Amélie Garnier,” Francesca replied. “French citizens with Cartes d’Identité to match. You have permanent residency paperwork already filed through my Swiss contact and a place waiting for you in the town of Interlaken.”

The girl raised her eyebrows, “You don’t mess around. How good are the documents?”

“All authentic,” the woman replied coyly. “I have my sources.” 

“I wonder how Bé… Amélie will take it.” Sabine pondered aloud, adjusting herself to her new legend. A small part of her pointed out that it was not a legend this time, but rather, had every possibility of being their new identities going forward. It was an idea that carried a little too much permanence for her mind at the moment, so she pushed it aside.

Regardless of her own feelings, at least in the short term, she would need to embrace Sabine Garnier if she was going to give Béatrice any semblance of a normal life. The idea still terrified her, but it was not an impossible objective. A dark thought at the back of her head told her that it might be a one-way journey, but she suppressed the idea violently.

“Bambini; they are adaptable,” Francesca opined with a shrug. “She will adapt to her changing circumstances with the right support. I have no doubt that you will do right by her. I think, however, that it is you who are more worried about how she will take to her new mama?”

Sabine grimaced at the idea. “I can’t replace, I can’t comprehend even taking that role, Francesca.”

“No woman is born a mother,” she pointed out. “You grow into it, you become la madre with time.”

“You forget the important part; I’m not a woman,” Sabine pointed out.

Francesca shot her a look, “Why do you fight this so hard?”

“You know what I am, Francesca. You possibly more than anyone else in the world.”

Francesca Ricci sighed with exasperation. Reaching over, she took Ryan’s hand and squeezed it between her own. “I know how you were born, Mia Cara, but I like to think I have come to know you better than simple genetics. The person I came to know those years ago was so much more than that. I think even you grew to have your own questions.”

Ryan remembered exactly what she meant and squashed the memory as firmly as he could. “That doesn’t matter,” he replied flatly. “This is a job; to get us to safety. Just like before, I will do what I have to do, nothing more. I can’t think about that now.”

Francesca frowned but remained quiet. Ryan could tell that she did not approve of his answer, nor did she believe him. He wanted to tell her what horrors he had seen and just what that experience had done to him. He wanted to tell her that at one point, he had truly accepted that he was Alessandra, that she was who he was meant to be, heart and soul. He wished he could explain why he could never allow that to happen again.

The journey back to Francesca’s apartment took another thirty minutes in the heavy traffic. It gave Sabine more time to go over the details of the new Identities that her mentor had secured for them. They were fairly shallow identities, but legitimate, which made them fit for purpose.  They would not stand up to any serious investigation, but they did not need to. Nobody was going to be digging into the past of a random mother and daughter traveling across Europe.

An identity package from the Agency was far more comprehensive; it had friends, relatives, favorite colors, and foods. Things that had history and could be verified. It helped to protect Intelligence Officers from outside scrutiny. Alessandra had parents; she had siblings. It was all part of the act to provide authenticity to the cover. Anyone checking into her would see a real person with a life. For Sabine and Amélie Garnier, it would be up to them to create that history together. It was a daunting task.

The car arrived back at Francesca’s apartment a little after four that afternoon. By the time they arrived, Sabine was feeling incredibly nervous. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, Sabine paused to smooth out her skirt. The brief gesture allowed her a moment of hesitation before following Francesca as she set off towards the main house. She was surprised by just how nervous she felt about the upcoming reunion. Somehow, this felt more consequential, more real than before. The idea of rejection scared her more than she was prepared to admit.

It was not that she was afraid of being seen as a man in women’s clothing; she knew all too well how she appeared to the outside world. What she feared was far longer lasting and far more important to her. Despite facing drug lords, terrorists, and armed criminals in her career, what she feared most was the acceptance of a child.

They had only been together for a little over forty-eight hours, and yet, Béatrice meant the world to her. When the little girl's life had been threatened, she had acted without thinking about the consequences. It was possible the girl had relatives in Nice, but there was no way she would have made it to them alive. Edwards was going to kill her to neaten up his messy kill; that much was obvious. Before Sabine knew what she had done, she knew that she was willing to lay down her life to protect the girl.

Family had always been a complicated subject for Ryan Knight. Raised as an only child, he had struggled to make friends with his peers, and yet he had never felt particularly lonely. He had been close with his parents and his mother in particular. All of that was ripped away from him when his parents were killed in an auto wreck in his freshman year of college.

Suddenly alone in the world, he had thrown himself into his studies, hoping to find meaning elsewhere else in his life. All that changed just before graduation when he was approached by a professor, one who happened to be a recruiter for the Agency. Given the offer, he had jumped in with both feet. Perhaps it had been a search for a new family, a way to cope with the loss of his parents, but it had given him a sense of belonging once more.

Working for the Agency unlocked a new drive in Ryan. The work was exciting, and he excelled in his training. He threw himself into his work; it wasn’t healthy, but it wasn’t particularly unusual for those working in the intelligence world. Ryan dove into his job because he was capable of helping others in a way that he hadn’t been able to help himself. That drive had ended with Operation: Orsino.

Back in Nice, Ryan had not paused to think of the ramifications of his actions. He had grabbed Béatrice and run because it was the right thing to do. Now, even his agency family was gone, and he was alone for the first time in nearly ten years. She realized now that she needed Béatrice to accept her, because they were all that each other had in the world. Without her, nothing mattered anymore.

Glancing down at herself, Sabine nervously checked her clothing again. She was dressed simply in an ankle-length cream linen skirt and a white peasant blouse. It exposed the tips of her shoulders, leaving her new blonde hair to brush gently against them every time she moved her head. Francesca, as promised, had tidied up her face for her passport photographs, but she had done little more than conceal her redness and apply a little light daytime makeup. She felt positively underdressed in contrast to her memories of Alessandra’s extreme femininity.

Reluctantly, she followed her mentor into the apartment and up the stairs. Inside, they found the he assistant, Isabella, waiting patiently outside Béatrice’s room. At first, the young woman did not seem to recognize Sabine, but after a moment, her eyes went wide as she put two and two together.

Francesca smiled thinly, “Sabine here will be taking Signore Knight’s place going forward. I trust this will not leave this apartment, si?

The woman nodded before giving Sabine a quick once-over with her eyes. “Of course, Signora. To tell the truth, I would not believe it if I did not know, the truth. Molta carina.”

“Quite so,” Francesca agreed. “How is the Bambina? She has been good?”

“Una angioletta. She has been so very good,” Isabella nodded. “She is taking a nap at the moment after her lunch.”

Sabine smiled her thanks and left the two women to talk as she quietly entered the bedroom. Just as described, Béatrice was tucked up in the large bed, sleeping peacefully. For a moment, Sabine stood and watched the child in awe. The beautiful little girl was blissfully unaware of all of the horror that had surrounded her for the last few days. Of the death and carnage that had followed her. Standing there, gazing down at her serenity, Sabine promised herself that she would protect her, no matter what transpired.

Walking across to the bed, she knelt beside the sleeping girl. Reaching out towards the girl, she froze, almost afraid to wake her. After a moment of indecision, she reached forward and gently brushed the hair from her tiny face. Slowly, the child opened her eyes, a look of puzzlement crossed her face before her eyes widened in recognition. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and stared,  “Reine? You’re really a girl now, like me?”

“Just like I told you that I would be,” Sabine smiled. You can call me Sabine now, chérie.”

Béatrice paused mid-stretch and her brow furrowed, “Does this mean you’re going to be my new mama?” she asked uncertainly.

Sabine’s heart wrenched at her words. She wanted to say no, she wanted to explain why she couldn’t, but the words would not leave her lips. “I…I should… I ah, I guess I am for now, sweetie. I will take good care of you, and I won’t let any harm come to you.”

“Will you read me stories?” she asked innocently. “My Mama used to read me stories.”

Sabine smiled and kissed the girl’s forehead, and drew her into a hug. “Absolutely! I will read you stories every single night. You have to promise something for me, though, ok? You need to be a good girl and do what I say, all right? The world isn't a fun place sometimes, and I may need you to do something quickly without asking too many questions, ok?”

Béatrice nodded uncertainly, “Like clean up my toys and brush my teeth?”

Sabine grinned uncertainly and nodded, “Yeah, like that, ok?”

“Ok!” The girl beamed.

Sabine couldn’t help but return the smile as she booped the little girl on the nose. The giggle that burst forth from the child did something fundamental to her heart that she couldn’t begin to describe.

Just outside the open door, the two other women were watching the interaction from a respectful distance. Francesca was amazed by just how much of the old Alessandra had resurfaced in such a short amount of time. The awkward and withdrawn young man who had arrived on her doorstep was long gone; instead, a familiar girl took his place.

She was very different from the old Alessandra; that much was evident. Francesca did not know what had happened to her during her mission all those years ago, but it was clear that something had gone badly wrong. There was a look in her eyes that relayed the same unspeakable trauma that she recognized from the girls she had helped. A dullness, a lifelessness that tried so desperately not to feel anything at all in case it hurt her again.

As a consultant hired on for the operation, she was outside of the circle of people that needed to know any details after it’s conclusion. She had however, been able to piece together enough information from her own sources to find out that things had been far from clean. When she never heard from Alessandra again, a small part of her had feared the worst. It was a grief she had carried with her for years. 

Despite that, here she was again, the same girl she had sent away on a dangerous mission many years before. Whatever had happened, she had been lost, but in her moment of need, she had turned to Francesca for help. She had never imagined that she would see Ryan Knight ever again, but to see him arrive on her doorstep with a child in tow and the world in pursuit? Somehow, that was such an Alessandra thing to do.

The younger woman, Isabella, leaned over toward her boss and lowered her voice, “You are sure that is the same man who came to us on Monday, Signora?”

Francesca smiled as she watched the scene before them unfold. Glancing across at Isabella, she shrugged, “I do not think she is anymore, if she ever truly was. Tell me, does that look like anything but a mother’s love to you?”

 

 

October 20th, 2007, Langley, Virginia.

The journey back to the Central Intelligence Agency’s headquarters in Langley, Virginia, took around an hour. It was a journey hampered, as always, by the constant weight of traffic in the nation’s capital, Washington, DC. Ryan had looked out on the familiar Potomac scenery as they drove and barely felt a thing. He had hoped that seeing home again might have helped. That seeing those familiar brands, shops, and scenes might have given him some small element of comfort. The reality was that it barely managed to move him at all. Somehow, everything felt tainted now; a crop blighted and damaged before the farmer’s eyes. An invisible disease that was running riot within the blood of an otherwise healthy-looking animal.

They had told him that things would feel better as time passed, but he had no idea when that would begin. That right now, in the immediate aftermath, it was totally normal to feel the impact more acutely. After all, even now, it had only been a little over twenty-four hours since his rescue. When he closed his eyes, he could still smell the mixture of sweat and perfume that had dominated his senses in that prison. Perhaps in time, with distance, he could start to feel normal again. That he could manage to find some way of putting it all behind him. He had no idea how he was going to do that.

After their arrival, Ryan had been escorted away by his handlers and ensconced in an interview room for his full and meticulous debrief. It had been strange, being back here at the headquarters of the world’s most powerful intelligence agency. Before Operation Orsino, Ryan had thought them almost infallible. He wasn’t naive enough to believe that missions never went wrong, but for some reason. He had never expected that it would happen to him. He had been proud to work for the Company, to be part of helping to protect the United States of America and her interests. The truth was, the sheen had gone off now, and he was seeing a different, colder version of the organisation he had loved.

“So, this guy, Hassan Al Darhudi, the target picked up in the rescue. Tell me about the time you spent together?”

Ryan took a sip of water before placing the paper cup back down on the table top. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. They had been debriefing Operation Orsino for four hours, and he was barely able to keep himself upright.

It was operational policy to debrief an officer as soon as was reasonably possible to ensure that any memories or recollections were as fresh as they could be. That meant that often there was no chance to rest beforehand. For Ryan, it meant reliving extremely recent and painful events.

“He was a client,” Ryan replied with a sigh, “Just like the others. Nobody told me anything about him. I just recognized him from intercepts we had for the region.”

Did he reveal anything during your conversations? Did he tell you his name?”

“Just his first name, he liked me to call him Hassan.”

“What did you do together?”

“What do you expect?” Ryan sighed. “And he liked to talk, too.”

“Do you think he was fond of you in particular?”

Ryan bit back the remark he had intended to say and instead shook his head, “He wanted the girlfriend experience; he wanted it to feel like we had a connection, a relationship; some element of romance. He didn’t give a shit if I actually liked him in return. It was purely transactional.”

“So when you weren’t talking?”

“What do you think?” Ryan snapped.

“Relax, it’s for the record, you need to state it clearly,” the interviewer pointed out. “I don’t make the rules, and I’m not here to judge.”

“He would fuck me,” Ryan answered flatly, refusing to look up from the paper cup on the table. “He liked to pretend that I was his girlfriend and he would fuck me, whether I wanted to or not.”

“Noted,” the interviewer replied. “And how did you recognise him?”

“It wasn’t written on his cock, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The interviewer gave Ryan a tired look, “Specifically, for the official record,” he repeated, stressing the word official.

Ryan was reaching a point of exhaustion where that emphasis meant little to him. The emotional weight of reliving his torment and degradation had run him into the ground. Swallowing the last of the water, he crushed the cup and tossed it at the trash can across the room. “He matched an intercept that we had been shown regarding players in the area. I remember things, he reminded me. After some subtle questions, he confirmed my suspicions.”

“You were still cognicent enough in the moment to perform that analysis? Even when you thought you had been lost and abandoned. Why?”

Ryan shrugged, “If I acted like I still had someone to report to, then I still had some hope that I might get out of there. Acting like it wasn’t all over gave me something to believe in.”

The man smiled sadly and nodded, “Understood.”

“And then, the report from Special Operations Group dovetails into here nicely,” The interviewer noted. “I think we can leave this here.”

Ryan nodded tiredly as he stood up, “Yeah, thanks, I guess. Look, am I still needed, or can I get the hell out of here? I’ve not slept properly in a couple of days.”

“There’s a car waiting to take you home, Officer Knight,” the man offered. “They’ll be out front when you’re done.”

Ryan nodded and left the interview room before the man could say anything else to detain him further. He shoved his hands in the pockets of the hooded sweatshirt and set off along the corridor. He had no real direction in mind, but he wanted to put as much distance between himself and that damn room.

As he walked, Ryan felt the strangest sensation of emptiness, as though he was losing something now that Orsino was over. The idea of starting to return to his normal life, to Ryan Knight’s life, should hae been exciting. For some reason, it felt almost hollow.

The first and most important part of that was his physical appearance. He was still wearing the same sweatshirt and pants that he had been given in Saudi Arabia, the ones that replaced Alessandra’s flimsy negligee and gown. They felt strangely rough and bulky against his skin, especially after so long in softer, more form-fitting attire. 

His hair, tied back in a low ponytail and stuffed down his collar, felt oddly lifeless and uncomfortable against his neck. His face felt bare without cosmetics, oddly incomplete. In the several months he had spent as Alessandra, Ryan felt almost at home in her skin; the idea of returning to Ryan right away felt scary. Perhaps, in his current mental state, he should maintain some stability, at least in the short term.

Walking out into the lobby, Ryan gazed over at the white Alabama marble of the memorial wall. One hundred and forty stars that represented officers fallen in the line of duty. It was always a sobering reminder to anyone in the Operations Directorate that one day, theirs could be alongside them.

Ryan knew just how close he had come to joining them. The events of Operation Orsino had come close to killing him more than once. Worse still, there had been more than one occasion where he had considered doing it himself. For a while, it had been preferable to what was happening.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Ryan walked over to the metal detector and stepped through. There was nothing metal on him, and he had no bag to put through the scanner, so the guard waved him forward. Taking his badge out of his pocket, Ryan swiped it on the scanner and stood before the lens mounted at head height.

The device buzzed, and a red light illuminated. Ryan swiped his card a second time and centered his face on the scanner. The device buzzed and flashed red a second time.

“Ma’am, can I see your ID please?” A uniformed security officer asked, stepping forward with his hand outstretched.

Ryan felt his heart sink. Closing his eyes, he sighed before handing the card over to the officer. The man looked down at the card and frowned before looking back up again and squinting at Ryan. “Is this your ID, Ma’am?”

“Yes,” Ryan sighed. “It’s just long hair, for an assignment.”

“You are Mister,” the man emphasised. “Ryan Knight?”

Ryan sighed and nodded, “Call Director of Operations Rawlings,” Ryan murmured. “He’ll explain.”

The guard seemed to hesitate for a moment before slowly nodding. The man gave Ryan a strange look before stepping over to the phone at his desk and dialing the internal number for Ryan’s boss. After a few moments, he spoke into the receiver before glancing over at Ryan and looking confused. Eventually, the man nodded and replaced the receiver before walking back over to Ryan.

“I uh, you’re good to go, Ma’am… I mean, uh, sir… uh, Ma’am, yeah.” The man handed Ryan his ID badge back before hitting the bypass on the exit terminal to allow Ryan through. 

Ryan smiled awkwardly in thanks before quickly shoving the ID back into his pocket and exiting through the security gate. The experience was humiliating, but it was made worse still by the man’s insistence on referring to him as a female despite his knowledge to the opposite. Was it that obvious?  What about him gave everyone the impression that he was female despite clear evidence to the contrary?

A black SUV was waiting outside the entrance when Ryan came down the steps. Climbing in the back, Ryan slammed the door behind him. The driver looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Where to, Ma’am?”

Ryan sighed and held his tongue. At this point, it seemed as though it was easier to go along with it for everyone’s sake, at least for now. Having another awkward exchange with the man would only make for a more awkward drive. He was likely never going to see the guy ever gain anyway.

 “Park Run Drive, The Lofts,” Alessandra offered, pulling her hair out of the elastic that had kept it tucked into her sweatshirt. “Thanks.”

“You look worn out,” The man offered, pulling away from the kerb. “Busy day?”

“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” she sighed. “I haven’t had a wink of sleep since Europe.”

 

 

May 31st, 2014 -  Milan, Italy.

The quiet evening air was still and warm on the balcony of Francesca’s apartment. Sabine leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the nighttime sounds of the city to wash over her like the surf across the sand. She was tired, both emotionally and physically, and she knew that this was only the very beginning. Folding her legs underneath herself, she blew out a breath she had been holding since she awoke that morning.

“You look tired,” Francesca observed, pouring a glass of wine from the bottle she had just retrieved. “It has been quite the day, has it not?”

Sabine opened her eyes and accepted the proffered glass, “Yeah, something like that.”

Francesca sat down across from her and sipped from her own glass. “I speak to my man while you were putting the little one to bed; he will have the papers for me by mid-morning. I should have you on a train out of Milan by the early afternoon.”

Sabine frowned. She knew that moving on was smart, but she had almost gotten used to being around Signora Ricci once again. The feeling of kinship and connection she felt around the woman was hard to leave behind, especially now. It also meant that it would just be her and Béatrice again. She wasn’t sure if she was capable of being a parent, male or female. How was she going to protect her and unravel the conspiracy against them at the same time?

“What are you thinking about?”

Sabine sighed, “I don’t know how to raise a child, never mind move through the world on my own like this. That part alone scares me. I have so much to do, and somehow, I have to raise her at the same time. On top of that, we’ll be alone, just the two of us. I know that leaving is necessary to protect you and us, but I would be lying if it didn’t terrify me all the same.”

“It is not easy,” Francesca agreed. “Nobody is prepared to be a parent, but you learn as you do it. It is what we all do; There is no right way, and there are many wrong, but you will make do. Be glad she is old enough to use the bathroom by herself.” 

“You might have a point there,” Sabine grimaced. Her expression changed, and she eyed Francesca suspiciously. “You know a lot about kids. You never told me you had a child?”

Francesca smiled sadly, “I was a mother, once.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sabine offered meekly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You did not; I offered it,” Francesca replied softly. “Being a parent is something nobody can be prepared for. No matter how long you plan to look after the child, you will be her parent, for she has no other. You must feed her, keep her safe, teach her, and be her companion. You can and will manage, because I have faith in you. You are a smart girl.”

“But I’m not…”

“Why are you so opposed to the idea?” Francesca challenged, a hotness overcoming her for a moment. “Why is it so bad to even consider the idea? Is being a woman so offensive to you?”

Sabine balked and found herself unable to reply for a moment. She moved her mouth wordlessly for a few seconds before finally finding her tongue, “I…it doesn’t… but Orsino finished and… I…” She frowned. “I can’t.”

Francesca gazed over at the young woman opposite her, “You never came to see me after your mission was over. Why was that? I would have liked to have known that you were ok. I had thought that we grew close, you and I. You never even sent me a message.”

Alessandra’s expression darkened. She looked way out across the rooftops for a moment before finally looking back at her mentor. “I wanted to,” she offered quietly. “I missed you so very much, but I knew that if I reached out, I wouldn’t want to let you go. If I didn’t let you go, I couldn’t let Alessandra go too.”

Rather than reply, Francesca stood up and walked over before sitting down beside the younger woman on the sofa. Resisting the urge to reach out to touch Alessandra, she spoke gently, “I did not expect the CIA to give me a detailed explanation of its business; that was never part of our arrangement. I had hoped to find out that you were ok; we grew close, you and I.”

Francesca sighed, “It was only months later that I find out from my contacts in the region that those bastardo were taken apart. That their entire organization was ripped to pieces and that your CIA was responsible. At the time, I feared the worst; I feared for a long time that I had lost you.”

A tear rolled down Alessandra’s cheek. She glanced at the older woman who had helped her so many years ago. The woman who had coached and prepared her for a role she had never expected to take on. A role that had changed her life. While the girl she became had scarred her for life, the memories of Francesca had been happy ones.

“Everything started out as planned,” Sabine shrugged. “I undercover as intended, everything went to plan. I was at college in Rome and socializing as we expected. Eventually, the traffickers found me and pulled me into their network. Everything was going fine until it wasn’t.” Sabine sighed and wiped her eyes as she steeled herself to continue. 

“They lost track of me for a month and a half. Somewhere between Istanbul and Riyadh, they lost my tracker, and I was gone. At that point, I was just a lost girl with no control, no backup, and no way out. They had total control of me, and if I had resisted, I would have died. That meant that, I,” she swallowed. “I… had to do things… for men, terrible things.”

“Oh, Mia Cara,” Francesca whispered, reaching out and squeezing the girl’s hand. “I had no idea, no idea at all.”

“By the time they found me, I had given up hope, given up any dream of ever going home again. I existed day by day, client by client. My world had closed in around me, and it was all I could do to wake up every day.”

“What about when you were rescued?”

Alessandra smiled darkly, “It was all classified immediately. All the better to hush up a botched operation. Even then, I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. How could I tell people that I was raped and abused? That men used me as a sexual plaything? I felt  unclean, damaged, and beyond any sort of redemption.”

“The truth is,” Alessandra admitted, looking up at Francesca. “I always wanted to see you, but I was ashamed. I truly believed that I had failed you, failed what we had created together. I also knew that If I had any hope of trying to get past all of this, Alessandra ha to go away. If I saw you again, there was no way I could make that happen. After all, you helped to create the girl that…I… became.”

Francesca remained silent but squeezed Alessandra’s hand supportively. She knew that any words at this point were a waste. Allowing the girl to say her piece mattered more.

Alessandra drained the last of the wine from her glass, “When you were coaching me, it almost began to feel real: The person I was portraying felt normal to me, she felt authentic and so very natural. Once I was lost and I was all by myself, when I had to…sleep with men. The only way I could mentally survive it was by letting myself become Alessandra entirely; I embraced her as my identity as a female. It wasn’t because I thought that it was somehow better to be raped as a woman than a man; I can safely say it’s awful regardless. The truth is, somehow, when I allowed myself to be her, I felt like me. It was a small, strange comfort in that hell; she gave me a strength that I had no idea that I possessed.”

“When I got home, I was ashamed of what had happened, of what I had to do. The only way I could survive was to bury her deep, to pretend it had never happened. I put all the pain on her, and I packed her away like an old coat until the following winter. It was my way of coping, of trying to crawl out from under the shame and the nightmares. 

“How did that feel?”

Alessandra smiled sadly, “It worked for a short while, but eventually it started to gnaw at me. It never stopped gnawing at me, really; Alessandra, the mission, all of the men. I tried to live around it, to avoid those feelings, but it never really worked. I’ve thought about her ever since.”

“My poor bambina,” Francesca sighed, hugging the girl tightly as tears began to overwhelm her. “I am so sorry. I would have been there for you if I had known. My god, I wish I had known...”

“It’s my job… It, well, it was my job,” Alessandra choked out between sobs.

“Your job was to stop them, not to become another victim,” Francesca insisted. “Your own people, they abandon you to become yet another victim of these monsters. That was not your fault, never.”

“I wish that I could stop blaming myself,” Alessandra shrugged. “This whole current mess, it brought everything right back to the surface for me. That brings up a bigger problem; now that I’m her again, I cannot hide from what happened to me. It’s making me question my ability to keep Béa safe.” 

Francesca took her hands and looked directly into the girl’s eyes. “May I make a suggestion?”

Alessandra nodded reluctantly.

“Do not close this wound again,” Francesca insisted. “You must allow it to heal properly, or it will hold a grip on you forever. There is no running from shadows; they are a part of us. It is only by exposing them to light that we finally are free. Allow this new start, this new life ahead of you, to heal and make you whole again. You and your bambina, you will make a good life for each other, it can heal the both of you.”

Sabine frowned, “You make it sound like I’ll be this way forever.”

Francesca smiled, “This is only something you yourself doubt, Mia Cara.”

 

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