December 14th, 2007 -  Bethesda, Maryland - United States.

“How are you feeling today?”

Ryan Knight sat across from the psychiatrist as he considered his words carefully. While there was a veneer of privacy protecting what he said in these sessions, reports on his readiness were making their way back to his bosses at Langley. HIPAA was rather flexible on privacy when your employer was the Central Intelligence Agency.

He was sitting in a comfortable-looking consulting room with a Navy doctor at the Bethesda Naval Hospital, talking about his feelings. These were sessions that were Agency mandated after his return from Operation Orsino. They were sessions that would decide the future of his operational status and whether or not his first mission was his last.  Ryan knew that his supervisors saw what damage they had done to him. He knew that they were more than aware of how their mistakes had harmed him. Even then, they would discard him like used trash if it suited them. He was loath to let them win, to let this disaster take his career from him.

Ryan shifted in his seat, “I’m ok, I guess.”

The woman raised an eyebrow but said nothing as her eyes flicked back to her notebook, her pen starting to move.

Ryan mentally shook himself and uncrossed his legs, adjusting his posture to be more masculine. “I mean, I’m ok; there’s not a lot to say about that. I’m not having the nightmares as often, and I guess that I feel kinda alright.”

“As often? So they’re still occurring?” she probed gently.

“It was tough,” Ryan conceded, but I’m getting through it.”

The woman leaned forward and gently placed her notepad on the table between them. “Ryan, tell me the truth, please. I won’t write this down, and I certainly won’t pass this on to your bosses. I’m worried that you’re dissociating.”

Of course, Ryan was dissociating; what reasonable person who experienced what he had would do otherwise? There was so much pain and trauma wrapped up in the events of Operation Orsino that he could barely think about Alessandra or what had happened without reliving every single excruciating moment in vivid detail.

“This still affects you far more than you’re letting on,” she stated bluntly. “I can still see all the same trauma hallmarks present that I find in other survivors of sexual assault. Most notably, those who are avoiding dealing with painful memories. The best way to approach this is to return to those core memories and work through them methodically. Pretending all of this happened to someone else isn’t going to help you; separating the personality of Alessandra from Ryan won’t make this any easier. It happened to you; you need to recognize that.”

“I’m not a girl,” Ryan stated flatly.

The doctor nodded slowly, “sexual assault can happen to anyone, male or female.”

Ryan glanced up at the kindly expression on the psychiatrist’s face and frowned. He desperately wanted to talk to her, but if he told them everything that had happened, they would remove him from the field permanently. There was no way they would allow someone so messed up to work again.

The truth was, what had happened to him had damaged him; that much was obvious. But the damage had caused cracks in the surface that he could not heal. What lay beneath that surface was an entirely different matter.

“I was read in on the operation,” the psychiatrist nudged. “I know everything that you went through. For any human being, that places a great toll on them both mentally and physically. I fully expect you to be carrying trauma from what happened; betrayal, shame, self-hatred; all of those emotions are valid and authentic. Not a single one will keep you from the field if we work together. To do that, you have to let me in. Only when you do that can we can work on this and help you.”

Ryan thought about Anja and the other girls who had been liberated when they finally caught up to the traffickers in Riyadh. Would they be sitting here in a modern hospital, comfortable and safe with a top psychiatrist to help mend them? No, they were left alone to find their ways home and cope with whatever was left of their spirits. Abandoned in a foreign land with no money, no help, no SOG team to take them home.

“I buried her,” he admitted quietly.

“Who?”

“Alessandra.”

“Your cover identity?” she queried.

Ryan nodded, “This all happened to her, not to me.”

“Your cover identity isn’t real,” she reminded him softly. When you separate what occurred to your cover from yourself, it’s an example of traumatic dissociation. You’re letting that part of you contain the pain so that you can escape it, rather than address it.”

Ryan made a face, “If it’s just a cover, there’s nothing to dissociate from.”

The doctor looked displeased but said nothing.

“I’m sleeping better, and I even went out the other day with no problems,” Ryan pointed out. “I stopped in the mall and got coffee.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she smiled. “But that doesn’t change the fact that your comfort is conditional on pushing the experiences away rather than addressing them.”

Ryan’s face twitched, and he felt his pulse quicken. She was right, but he couldn’t even begin to admit that. Keeping her away solved more than just one problem. If he wanted to keep his job, he needed them all to go away.

During his time in captivity, he had allowed himself to become Alessandra. It had allowed him to begin to cope with all the terrible experiences that had occurred. Somehow, however, it seemed that opening that door had flipped a fundamental switch within his psyche. One that seemed far more comfortable as Alessandra De Luca than Ryan Knight. He knew that the name was just a cover, a false veneer, but it had answered questions he had yet to dare ask. What that meant, he was not entirely sure. It was, however, the first time in his life that he had felt as though his maleness was… false.

 

 

June 1st, 2014 -  Milan, Italy.

Alessandra awoke from the depths of a nightmare, gasping for air. She was tangled in a knot of sodden sheets, her heart beating like a jackhammer. Her eyes shot to the bedroom door that lay open on the far side of the room. She had left it open the night before for precisely this reason. The door was open, which meant that she was safe; she was not back in that prison cell in the desert. It did help, but it barely dampened the tendrils of darkness that clawed at her mind.

She lay panting in the bed for a moment as she gathered her breath. She had not experienced a nightmare this powerful in many years, not since the immediate aftermath of her captivity. Thanks to the day before, the memories were fresh again, the emotions raw and bleeding. It did not matter that those events were in her distant past; she still felt the hands of those men on her body as though it were barely a day before.

Sabine ran her fingers through her damp hair, which was an unfamiliar sensation, she thought. It had been a long time since her hair had been this length, a different life. So was the chest rising and falling as she panted within the top of her satin nightgown. No matter how many times she saw herself as a woman, she was still amazed that it was really her. Would she ever truly be able to separate this version of herself from the woman who was held in the satin cell?

Regardless, Sabine was going to have to confront that fear if she was to weather the storm ahead. Perhaps Francesca had been right; perhaps she had been hiding away from that darkness rather than dealing with it. Packing Alessandra away and returning to being Ryan had been a refuge, and a comfortable one at the time. Ryan had provided a simplicity and stability that she desperately needed when her world had been torn apart. He was safe, boring, and he did not make her question everything about herself. He had allowed her to carry on with her life as though every element of her spirit had not been violated.

In the cold light of morning, this entire enterprise seemed insane. Here she was, back in the shoes of the one person that she did not need to be right now; a broken girl, haunted by her past. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, that broken girl seemed to be the best chance she had of slipping the clutches of the Agency with Béatrice in one piece.

Somewhere in the apartment, Sabine heard the clink of cutlery and realized that others must already be awake. With a sigh. She swung her legs out of the bed and pulled herself to her feet. Wrapping herself in a robe, she finger-combed her hair into some semblance of order and frowned at her reflection in the mirror. Even here with no makeup and scruffy hair, she still somehow seemed normal. Shaking her head, Sabine turned and set off toward the sounds of life.

“I was wondering when you might join us,” Francesca smiled from the table as Sabine walked into the kitchen. The older woman was sitting nursing a large cup of sweet-smelling coffee, while across from her, Béatrice was happily munching on a slice of toast.

Sabine smiled and ruffled the grinning child’s hair as she lowered herself indelicately into a chair beside her. “Good morning, sweetie.”

“Good morning Ri… Mama Sabine?”

That one word struck Alessandra in the gut like a bullet. For a moment, she froze, simply staring down at the child beside her. Shaking her head, she snapped herself back to reality and smiled, squeezing her shoulder. “I uh, did you sleep ok?”

“The bed was nice,” Béatrice declared, her voice muffled by a mouthful of toast. Sabine smirked slightly as she turned back to Francesca. “Thank Nonna Francesca for letting us stay in her lovely apartment.”

“Nonna?” Francesca scoffed. “I would not put up with that if it were anyone else.”

Sabine smirked as she poured herself a cup of coffee, “Would you deny a child?” The look Francesca returned told her that the only reason she was tolerating such an honorific was for that express reason. 

Taking a long drink from her mug, Sabine closed her eyes and allowed the caffeine to warm the connections in her tired brain. As rough as the night had been, she was still here, and that was something to remember. Whatever happened to her now, it was her story to write, not theirs.

Her conversation the night before with Francesca had likely been a major contributing factor to her poor night’s sleep. She was almost positive that it had helped to reopen old wounds. Regardless, despite the pain, it had been surprisingly cathartic. Somehow, while she still felt the grip of darkness and the pain of the memories, a small voice inside told her that she was far better equipped this time to handle it.

“You did not sleep so well, I think,” Francesca observed.

“Not particularly.”

“I heard you… Well, I heard,” Francesca offered with a sad smile. “Is that sort of thing a regular occurrence?”

Sabine shook her head, “Not for years. I guess yesterday threw a spanner in the works.”

“I can imagine,” Francesca offered sympathetically. “It cannot be easy for you, given the circumstances.”

Sabine shrugged, “I guess it was necessary, as much as I don’t like to admit that. As usual, you were right.”

“It is not about being right or wrong,” Francesca pointed out. “I truly believe that this will help you in both the short and long term.”

Sabine sipped her coffee and frowned. She hated how easily she had slipped back into this persona. Her name might have changed, but she still felt like Alessandra underneath the surface. She still felt like the girl who sacrificed her soul to save a terrified boy.  That damage felt raw again, barely healed by the years that had passed. Perhaps shutting it off had only paused the hurt?

“Mama Sabine?”

Sabine glanced down at the child beside her, “What’s up, Chérie?”

“You’re very pretty,” the girl offered earnestly. “Will I be pretty like you when I’m bigger?”

Alessandra was floored by the comment at first; she wasn’t sure what to say to the little girl, or how the comment made her feel. The idea of the girl wanting to look like her when she was older did not seem to fit into her psyche. She looked over at Francesca for help, but was met with a shrug and a smirk. Shooting her a glare, she turned back to Béatrice and smiled, “You’re really pretty now, sweetheart, ok?”

“But will I be when I’m big? Like you?”

“I uh…“ Sabine frowned, “Uh, sure.”

The past, she realized, was not to be her only challenge; it would seem.

 

 

“Those clothes are not going to help reinforce the correct mentality, you know this,” Francesca pointed out from the bedroom door, as she watched Sabine dress.

“I’m not dressing to attract anyone,” Sabine pointed out. “This time, I need to be more practical, and I need to be able to move around freely. Plus,” she added, regarding her reflection in the mirror. “You reinforced the correct mentality in me more than enough the first time around.

Sabine was wearing a pair of jeans and a simple grey t-shirt that she had borrowed from Francesca’s wardrobe. Naturally, they were exuberantly expensive designer brands, but that did not matter for her purposes. What was important was that they were easy to move in, comfortable, and ordinary. That was something she needed far more than feminine reinforcement at the present moment. What bothered her the most was that she still looked more than female enough in the simple, unisex outfit.

Francesca held up her hands and made a face. “Be my guest, you clearly know more than I do.”

“Don’t do that,” Sabine accused, wagging a finger in her mentor’s direction. “Your guilt trip routine isn’t going to work on me this time around.”

The older woman chuckled and leaned against the door jam. “What are you going to do? They are looking for you, yes?”

“I have to check in with my contact to see if there’s been any movement on the recording that I gave him. That, and I’m going to see if I can get him to throw them a false lead while we slip town. It might buy us enough time to drop off the radar.”

“Is that not a big risk? While they are here in Milan?”

Sabine shrugged as she slipped a pair of sunglasses on her head, using them to hold back her hair. “Maybe, maybe not. Either way, I have to try and learn what I can, while I can. They’re not going to let this drop, so I need to be prepared.”

“Do you think he will want to help you?”

“He could have captured me, but he chose to let me go,” she offered, tucking her pistol into a small leather handbag that she slipped over her shoulder. “I have to try.”

“This version of you, she did not exist last time. You seem more level-headed now, Mia Cara.”

“I’m a different person; a lot of years and a whole lot of suffering have seen to that,” Sabine replied quietly. “Now I have a mission and a clear objective that I can focus on, it’s keeping me in one piece. I have to keep Béa alive, keep myself alive, and prove my innocence; I’m target-focused.”

“You are different from last night also,” Francesca observed, her tone softening. “Are you sure you can do this? The nightmares…”

“That’s the difference between ghosts and the living,” Sabine smiled sadly. “The ghosts only hurt when I close my eyes.”

“Prophetic,” Franceca nodded. “But remember, we all close our eyes at some point.”

“Hopefully not before I get out of Milan today,” Sabine agreed, checking her reflection in the mirror.

“This man, what will he think of the new you?”

Sabine’s eyes softened for a moment as she seemed to drift off to another time and place. The memories were painful, but one always seemed to pull her back to the real world, one memory that didn’t hurt quite like the other one. A memory that had been a moment of hope, “Who do you think pulled me out of that hell the first time around?”

 

 

Walking alone through the centre of Milan was a surprisingly uncomfortable experience for Sabine. While she had been in public many times before as Alessandra, this time felt markedly different. Her clothes were more casual and unisex in appearance, and her makeup was more understated than the character of Alessandra de Luca. In all, this version of herself felt like exactly that: a version of herself. Somehow, that made the prospect of failure feel far more costly somehow.

As she traveled, she slowly began to feel more comfortable with what those around her were seeing. Men noticed her, women seemed disarmed around her, and not a single person gave her a strange look. It was more than obvious that all they saw was a casually dressed woman, despite her personal anxieties. Truth be told, many other women were wearing similar clothing, and while hardly what one would describe as curvy, her figure was slim enough to pass muster.

Parco Sempione, the location she had chosen to meet with Pete, was a wide wooded park nestled within the heart of Milan’s old quarter. It reminded Sabine a little of Central Park in New York, but admittedly, it seemed to have far fewer homeless drug addicts scattered about. To her benefit, while a great deal of Milan was covered by cameras, this ancient park was a relatively dead spot, and it was one that she planned to use to her advantage.

Pulling out her cellphone, Sabine ensured she was out of earshot of any passersby before calling Peter Sutherland’s number.

“You have kicked one hell of a hornet’s nest,” Sutherland offered by way of greeting.

“I told you it was a damn mess,” Ryan sighed. “What are they saying?”

“That you killed a fucking station chief, that’s what,” Sutherland growled. “You’re listed as shoot to kill now, kid.”

Sabine cursed under her breath.

“What’s wrong with your voice?”

“Uh, nothing,” Sabine admitted sheepishly, realising that she had slipped back into Alessandra’s more feminine register far easier than she had expected. Coughing, she lowered her voice, “Look, what about the recording?”

Sutherland sighed, “I listened to it, kid. What exactly do you expect a gundog to do with something like that? March up to the Director on the seventh and just hand it to him and explain that this is all some big misunderstanding?”

“That’s not what I mean,” Ryan sighed. “Can’t you run it up to someone above Edwards? Counter Terrorism Command Europe or Operations?”

“CTC Europe are running point on the ground now, and they’re not known to be big on listening,” Sutherland pointed out. “Knight, what are you up to?”

“What?”

“I can hear it in your voice, kid.”

Sabine sighed, “Are you still in the city?”

“Yeah?”

“Parco Sempione, there’s a gift shop just north of the Sforza Castle, thirty minutes?”

“You’re gonna get my ass PNG’d, kid,” Sutherland sighed. “Fine, thirty minutes, and this had better be damn good.”

Sabine ended the call and slipped the phone back into her bag. Letting Peter Sutherland in on her plan was a risky gamble on paper, but she knew that deep down, she could trust the man. He had been there for her during her darkest moment, and while they had never been what she would have called friends, they had stayed in touch over the years. The old SEAL was a man of honor and a straight shooter; If he believed her innocent, he would do anything in his power to help her. It was her duty to make sure that he did not share Tom Spencer’s fate for doing so.

It was nearly thirty minutes later when Sabine spotted Peter Sutherland arriving at their meeting point. She had found herself a good spot on a nearby bench on the far side of the walkway and was casually reading a guidebook like any other tourist. While the man was dressed casually, his muscled build and shaggy beard set him apart from the casual tourists and Italian locals all around him. While the casual observer would likely not notice anything untoward, to a trained eye, it was obvious that he was not a civilian.

Sabine watched for a few minutes, ensuring that the man had not been followed. Admittedly, any watchers would likely be far better at fieldcraft than the old soldier, but she was confident enough that he was alone. Once she was satisfied, she closed her book and tucked it under her arm as she set off casually across the square.

Sutherland was pretending to examine a display of gaudy-looking hats at a tourist stand when Sabine made her approach. He was glancing around as he browsed, doing his best to look as casual as possible. To a civilian, it was likely doing its job, but to Sabine, he looked rather jumpy.

Walking up alongside him, she picked up a stuffed bear with a silly moustache and an Italian flag and examined the trinket. Looking over at Sutherland, she smiled, “I’m not sure that hat’s really your style, Pete.”

Sutherland jumped at the sound of her voice, “Sorry I don… huh?”

Sabine chuckled, “If you’re this skittish, you really are alone, aren’t you?”

“Why are….” Sutherland shook his head and turned to look at her properly, “God damn it, I knew it.”

Sabine swallowed her desire to question the remark and jerked her head to the side, indicating that they should start walking. Sutherland took the hint, and the pair set off walking. When they were sufficiently far away from prying ears, she looked up at the soldier and smiled. “It is good to see you without you pointing a gun at me, Pete.”

“I still might,” he offered. He frowned, looking her up and down, “Are you going to explain why you’re a chick again?”

“They’re not looking for a chick,” Sabine pointed out, trying to make it sound like a tactical decision. “And I… have the experience to keep it that way.”

“Yeah, I suppose you do,” Pete admitted with a raised eyebrow.

Sabine gave him a long look and shrugged, “I’m feeling pretty outnumbered at the moment. This, well, it gives some breathing room; time to prove that I’m not guilty of what they said. A young man and a little girl traveling alone tend to stand out. A single mom doesn’t.”

“Yeah, that actually makes sense,” Sutherland agreed. “They have BOLOs out through Interpol for you and the kid, so it’s a good idea. I’m just surprised to see you do it again.”

“Not my first choice,” Sabine offered.

You’re not guilty either,” Sutherland pointed out. “I listened to your recording; Edwards sounds guilty as hell, and you have no motivation for it. It’s a diplomatic shitstorm, and it might get him canned, but it doesn’t prove any of what happened with Spencer and Carter. Edwards has you sold pretty well as a traitor on that.”

“I was talking to Tom, telling him everything that I told you,” Sabine explained sadly. “He believed me, and he was going to help. It just turned out that Edwards had followed him, hoping that it would lead him to me. They caught up to us in a service corridor, and things went bad. It was a shitty place for a gunfight; there was no room to get anywhere. Tom was hit right out of the gates, and it was pretty bad. He knew he was dying, and he bought me what time he could.”

“I saw where it happened,” Sutherland agreed. “Nasty spot.”

“I just have to prove the conspiracy, and it unravels his entire story.”

“Yeah, before they shoot you.”

“Fuck,” Sabine frowned. “How the hell am I meant to take care of a kid and investigate this guy?”

Sutherland shook his head, “You’re not. You keep your head down and get out of Italy with the girl. You go to ground and work out what to do when you’re far away from here. There’s no sense in you being on the wrong end of a gun over this; Edwards will have people shooting to kill, and they’re not going to give you a chance to talk.”

“I’m aware,” Sabine sighed. “The longer I leave this, the more time he has to clean up his mess and hide the trail. There’s something going on here, something more than what we’re seeing. This is deeper than some shady dealings. The guy made damn sure that Ahmad couldn’t be taken alive and talk; that has to mean something.”

Sutherland put his hand on Sabine’s shoulder to stop her walking. A strange look crossed his face as he looked down at her. “Look, Ry… shit, I can’t call you that, looking like you do,” he shrugged apologetically. “They’re going to kill you before you can get to the bottom of this shit. This smells real bad. The sort of thing the Agency cleans up without discrimination, sort of bad.”

“I’m not a little boy, you don’t need to protect me, Pete.”

Sutherland looked her up and down and smirked, “No, you’re not, are you?”

“I uh…” Sabine blushed, “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” the man smiled gently. “I remember this terrified young woman who took a metal bar to a former Delta Force operator who was breaching her room in the dusty hell hole that she had been kept prisoner in for nearly two months. The young woman who cared more about the other girls getting out than herself. Now she grabs a kid and sets off to unravel a criminal conspiracy? You haven’t changed much, kid.”

“I’m not a woman,” Sabine scowled, lowering her voice.

“I know what you started out as, and I know what I met in Saudi,” Pete shrugged. “I also know who I’m looking at right now. I have no idea what is going on in that head of yours, but you always seemed a lot more real like this. All the other times we met, you always seemed so hollow, lost, and empty. I told you once that you remind me of my Sarah, I still believe that.”

“I didn’t come here for dime store psychoanalysis, Pete.”

“That’s a freebie,” Sutherland winked. “I am serious, though; you have to run, and run far.”

“I can’t just cut and run. The guys back at Langley won’t take him in off that recording alone; I need more.”

“Then let me dig.”

Sabine shook her head and sighed. “No, I can’t ask that of you, Pete; you have kids back home.”

The older man smiled, “So do you too now.”

“I… fuck,” Sabine sagged, running her hands through her hair. “I don’t know how to be a parent. I can barely manage to be an adult, especially now.”

“Get out of Milan, then work the problem,” Sutherland offered. “I’ll keep this tape to myself for the time being. There’s no point alerting Edwards and the others to the recording too early and showing your hand. That way, you got more time before they start burying shit. As long as they think you’re the one on the run, they’ll miss the obvious. Once you start to fuck them, I’ll drop this on them to finish the job, ok?”

“Yeah, thank you.” Sabine smiled weakly. “And thanks for not taking me in back at the mall.”

“What? And risk missing this again? Not likely,” the man chuckled. “Only you could manage to be on the run from the CIA and slip, trip, and end up a skirt.”

“I’m wearing jeans,” Sabine frowned.

“Now.”

Sabine rolled her eyes, and Sutherland laughed out loud. It was a loud guttural bark that befitted a man his size, and it managed to startle a nearby pair of Japanese tourists.

“Seriously though, is this… a thing now?”

Sabine shrugged weakly, “I don’t know.”

“It does suit you, kid.”

Sabine glanced around the park as tourists passed around them. Not a single person saw anything odd about her appearance, and that still surprised her.  While it was true that she was not wearing anything particularly feminine, she knew that people still saw her as female without question. Even now, her friend seemed to think that this version of her was more normal than her real self.

“Am I crazy?”

“Which bit?” Sutherland asked. “Running across Europe with the kid of a terrorist while dodging corrupt intelligence officers, or the chick bit?

“Fuck; both, I guess.”

“Yeah, you are, on both counts,” The man chuckled. “Crazy seems to be your wheelhouse, though. Do you have a way out of town? Out of the country?”

Sabine nodded. 

“Good,” he smiled. “Don’t tell me where you’re going, but do drop me a line when you find something, and we can go from there. Chances are my guys will be running with this thing for some time, so I’ll sound the boys out, ok?”

“You think they’ll side?”

Sutherland grinned, “Scott still remembers you.”

Sabine frowned, “Which one was Scott?”

“The Delta guy you laid out with a metal pole.”

Sabine grimaced, “Oh, yeah, doesn’t hold a grudge, does he?”

“You kidding?” Sutherland smiled slyly, “That guy has the hots for women who can take him in a fight. I’m pretty sure he’s still in love.”

Sabine made a face but remained silent, instead gazing out across the park as the pair walked on. She remembered the other men on Sutherland’s SOG team; she would never forget their faces. Those men had been her angels; they had saved her from a fate worse than death. That one of them found her attractive gave her conflicted feelings, ones too complex for her to wish to unravel.

“Look, this shit is way above my head, kid,” Sutherland admitted. “You can do this, I know you can. I’ll run interference for you as best I can; gonna give ‘em a false hint or two, ok?”

Sabine stopped walking and turned to face the man who was risking so very much to help her. Gazing at him for a moment, she gave in to her impulse and hugged the man, “Thank you, Pete, I can’t say it enough. Don’t screw yourself over, though; think about Helen and the kids. I’ll… no, we will make it, ok?”
The big man squeezed her back and ruffled her hair with his paw, “Get yourselves safe. I got your six, girl.”

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