December 21st, 2007 -  Bethesda, Maryland - United States.

“Here you go, uh, sir?” the barista smiled uncertainly as she handed Ryan his takeout coffee cup. Before he could even offer his thanks, the woman was gone to serve the next customer waiting for their order in the packed coffee shop.

With the run-up to the holidays, malls across America were about as busy as they were going to get, and the Westfield Montgomery Mall in Bethesda, Maryland, was no different. With his takeout coffee cup in hand, Ryan stepped back out into the relative calm of the busy concourse. He had no desire to be here, and yet he had to admit that his boss and psychiatrist had a point: If he didn’t get over his hangups and anxieties, he was going to be more than useless at his job.

He wasn’t looking to buy much, if anything at all. Having no family and very few friends made holiday shopping much simpler these days, but shopping was not why he was here.  He was here for exposure therapy, trying to get used to spending time around people again. Most importantly, to try and adjust to life as himself, as Ryan Knight again. 

After getting back stateside, Ryan discovered that busy spaces bothered him far more than they used to. Interacting with people here felt strange, uncomfortable, and confusing after spending nearly three months undercover. Long periods of which consisted of nothing but isolation, interspersed with violence and violation. 

When he wasn’t riding a desk at Langley or seeing his psychiatrist at Walter Reed, he was visiting places like this mall. In their own way, they helped to condition him to handle people again.

Finding a bench out in the middle of the mall’s concourse, Ryan sat and sipped his coffee and allowed the wave of humanity to wash over and consume him. Being home was good, but the events of Operation Orsino had made him realise that in many ways, this wasn’t really his home at all anymore. He lived here, and he had been born here, but it wasn’t his home. At the moment, there was a quiet house in the Lombardy countryside that called his name.

Ryan caught his reflection in a store mirror and blanched. Uncrossing his legs, he readjusted his posture to appear more masculine. He was still struggling with removing all remaining traces of Alessandra from his day to day life. He had trimmed his nails, and he wasn’t shaving anymore, but he had yet to cut his hair. He knew he needed to, but a small part of him was reluctant to chop it all off. As it was, he kept it tied back in a low ponytail and stuffed into his shirt collar. It made him feel more normal, even if normal now felt strange. Who would have imagined that it would feel strange to be acting like himself?

Ryan Knight, Field Intelligence Officer for the Central Intelligence Agency, now felt more like a cover than Alessandra De Luca did to Ryan’s core sense of self. After all the time he had spent as her, she somehow felt like the more genuine person. He knew that it was a form of post-traumatic stress, an after shadow of his time spent in both Italy and Saudi Arabia. The truth was,  it felt like wearing shoes a size too small; no matter how much he adjusted, he could not get comfortable.

The psychiatrist had told him not to bury Alessandra, that he should avoid pushing all of his bad experiences away and locking them down. She told him that he had to face what had happened and center the blame on his captors rather than internalising the shame that he felt. The reality was that this was far easier said than done. 

Somehow, the idea of accepting that he had been systematically raped and abused by men over and over again felt impossible to reconcile in any meaningful way. To accept such a reality would mean he was a victim, someone who hadn’t been able to stand up for themselves. Being a victim of something so heinous, being forced to take an active part in his own humiliation and subjugation, or face death; this simply couldn’t have happened to Ryan Knight, CIA Officer. 

Alessandra could be the victim; she could feel the pain. Alessandra could cry and scream and vent her anger, frustration, and hatred towards those men. Alessandra could come to terms with what had happened to her and find peace, if he let her. The truth was, Ryan didn’t want to know who he would be if she managed to find peace.

“You look miserable,” a voice observed. “Whatever it is can’t be that bad.”

Ryan looked up and saw a man standing at the end of the bench, his own coffee cup in hand. The man was looking at him and seemed surprisingly genuine for a total stranger. “I’m sorry?

“Mind if I sit?” the guy asked casually, gesturing at the empty end of the bench.

“It’s a public place,” Ryan shrugged. “Be my guest.”

The man sat down and sipped his coffee before looking across at Ryan, “You seemed distracted back there, and now I see you staring off into the distance like there’s something eating you. Feel free to tell me to eat shit, but you seem like you’re in a bad place.”

“Never thought I’d run into a coffee shop psychiatrist,” Ryan replied sarcastically. “Not to be blunt, but why do you care?”

The man smiled ruefully, “My sister killed herself a couple of years ago. She used to have the same look on her face all the time: Blank, hollow eyes, and jumpy. Call me stupid, but I promised I’d talk to people that I saw who looked like that. That I’d tell them that it was ok.”

Ryan blinked, “I’m not suicidal.”

“I never said that you were, but you are dealing with a lot,” the man offered. “I’m Tim.”

“Ryan.”

Tim nodded, “Good to meet you.”

The two sat in silence for a moment before Ryan looked over, “You’re not going to ask me what’s going on?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Ryan frowned.

“What would that achieve?” Tim asked, sipping his drink. “You’ve probably had plenty of people ask what’s wrong. I’m just going to tell you that it’s ok, and that’s it.”

Ryan couldn’t think of anything to say, so he sat in silence, drinking his beverage. The knowledge that someone realized something was wrong and was willing to tell him it was ok was surprisingly comforting. The man had no idea what he was wrestling with, but he cared enough to say something was more moving than he could have imagined. “Thank you,” Ryan offered, giving the man a slight smile.

Tim grinned back, “That’s better. You look pretty good when you’re happy.”

“I uh, thanks,” Ryan blushed. “You know, for saying something. I had no idea what that might actually do.”

Tim nodded, “My pleasure.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, “Here, if you ever want someone to talk to, give me a call.”

Ryan must have looked shocked because Tim suddenly held up his hands, “I’m not hitting on you, god, that would be such an asshole move. What? See a woman stressing out about something big and using being nice as a move? God, Emma would have killed me for that! Seriously though, if you just want an ear, I’ll listen.”

Ryan flushed pink with embarrassment. This man somehow saw him as female, even now? He was disturbed and troubled by the revelation. He was using his normal voice, and he wasn’t wearing any makeup. Sitting there in a hooded sweatshirt and cargo pants, he wasn’t dressed particularly femininely either. The only choice he had that might lessen the embarrassment was to lean into it for a moment and extract himself from the situation.

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” he offered, accepting the card. “Emma sounds like she was a good woman.”

“The best,” Tim smiled. “Look, I won’t keep bothering you, but feel free to give me a call if you want a non-judgmental set of ears, eh? I promise to never hit on you ever.”

Ryan smiled and relaxed his posture into Alessanda’s, “I’ll hold you to that, Tim.”

“See you around, Ryan,” Tim offered, doffing an imaginary cap before tossing his empty takeout cup into the trash. With one last grin, he walked away into the crowded mall.

Ryan sat in shock for a moment, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. As he did so, he fingered the card that was given to him by the strange man. Tim had been nice, more than nice, to him for no conceivable reason. A stranger had gone out of his way to give a fuck; that alone was a first for Ryan. 

What bothered him more was that even when he was trying to be himself, he seemingly still managed to appear female to others. The man had not seemed confused or doubtful of his sex; he had even seemed playful. The idea of a man flirting with him made Ryan’s skin crawl. As he sat there, he felt a flush of cold terror as he recalled the violations that the hands of men had wrought upon him. 

Ryan drained his coffee and disposed of the cup before heading off towards the mall exit. He didn’t bother to correct the way he was walking or try to force Alessandra out of his gestures. At that moment, he just needed to leave.

 

 

June 1st, 2014 -  Milan, Italy.

Sabine returned to Francesca’s apartment shortly after midday with fewer answers but a good deal more clarity than she had expected. It was obvious now that Milan had answered all the questions it could; remaining here could only serve to harm them further the longer they stayed. Her presence put Francesca and her people in danger, and she could not permit that. As much as she wanted to stay in the familiar surroundings and fight back with an ally beside her, she knew that to do so would bring unnecessary danger to their world.

Sutherland was right; she had to get out of town and find a better base to operate from. As Sabine Garnier, she had the opportunity to break their trail and flee with Béatrice to a place of relative safety. They would have the breathing room they needed to take a more reasonable pace. How she would manage to get anything done with a small child in tow, she wasn’t entirely sure.

When Sabine got back to the apartment, she found Francesca waiting for her with a pair of packed suitcases and an excited preschooler. While she knew that it was time for them to go, the finality of the scene made her far more emotional than she had expected.

“Your meeting went well?” Francesca asked, straightening one of Amélie’s pigtails.

As good as it could,” Sabien shrugged. “As much as I hate the idea, now is the right time for us to get moving.”

“I have your tickets here for Zürich and a hotel for you once you arrive,”  Francesca explained, patting an envelope on the side table. “Both are in your new name. You have the contact number for my man there, yes?”

“I do,” Sabine smiled. “Say goodbye to Nonna Francesca, ok chérie?”

“Bye-bye!”

Francesca hugged Sabine tightly. “Cheeky girl, I will miss both of you a great deal. You will take care, do you understand? I want to hear from you when you get settled in.”

“I’m so sorry it took me this long to reach out,” Sabine sniffed, feeling tears run down her cheeks. “I was so caught up in myself that I couldn’t see past that. I should have been here sooner.”

“Shush,” Francesca soothed. “That is in the past, and what is past is behind us. What matters to me is that you came to me when you were in need.”

“Our time together back then was special,” Sabine smiled, “I have a lot to do, a hell of a lot to work out, but I promise you, I will be back, ok? Sooner than later, as long as I survive.”

Francesca smiled and kissed Sabine on the forehead, “Do not be dramatic, you will be fine, I know it. Now take care of the bambina, and you do not do anything stupid.”

Sabine nodded, “Yeah, I will.”

Francesca gave her a final squeeze before breaking off the hug and turning to retrieve something from a drawer in the sideboard. Turning to Sabine, she handed her a small gift-wrapped box with almost reverent care. “I have something for you, Mia cara,” she added, her voice husky with emotion. The look on her face was more serious than Sabine had ever seen.  “You must promise me that you will only open this when you have decided your future. Before you ask, I do not mean the immediate one in Zürich, but the rest of your life. I trust that you will know when that time comes.”

“Okay…” Sabine replied cautiously as she accepted the box. “I’m not sure when that’s going to be, but thank you, Francesca. You’ve done more for us than I had any right to ask for. Thank you for trusting me and for everything.”

The woman smiled, “This, you do not need to thank me, Mia Cara, you were never a burden to me. I am glad to offer the help, and my door will always remain open; you and this little angioletta are always welcome here.”

Béatrice beamed happily at Francesca’s words, while Sabine felt a strange warmth. It was a feeling that she had last known before the death of her parents. The idea that she had stayed away from Francesca for so many years now felt like one of the greatest regrets of her life. She felt a true love for the older woman, a connection that she knew would be there no matter where she went from here. In a way, she knew now that they would be anchored here in Milan, no matter where in the world they traveled. At that moment, she knew that if she survived this chaos, she would return here to right the wrong of her absence.

“It may be later than it should have come, but I am glad I can give a new life to two people who truly deserve it.”

“We appreciate it, don’t we, Amié?” Sabine prompted her small charge.

“Thank you, Nonna Francesca!”

The older woman rolled her eyes. “Go on, you two, or you will miss your train.”

Sabine pulled out an envelope from her bag and handed it to Francesca. “Hold this for me. If anything happens to me, send it, please?”

“Nothing will happen to you, Mia Cara,” Francesca declared firmly. “You can collect it from me one day.”

Sabine smiled, “Consider it insurance. Should I need to leverage some negotiating power, I have a little something up my sleeve; the ops room recording, and it’s addressed to CNN’s news desk.”

Francesca smiled. “I knew you were not a stupid girl.”

Sabine hesitated for a moment before smiling thinly, “That is as yet to be determined.”

A chime from the doorbell interrupted Francesca’s response, and she smiled regretfully. “That will be your car, let me know when you are safe, yes?”

“I promise,” Sabine offered, stepping forward to hug her mentor tightly. “Goodbye, Francesca, for now.”

Francesca embraced her for a moment before pulling back and kissing both her cheeks. “Take care of yourselves, do you hear me?”

Sabine nodded and wiped away a tear. “Come, Amélie, let’s go, ok?” she sniffed, taking the child by the hand.

On the street outside, a sleek town car was waiting patiently by the curb. On seeing them exit the building, the driver immediately came over and assisted with their bags.

“Where are you headed today, Signora?”

Sabine helped seat her young charge before returning her attention to the driver, “Milan Central Station, please.”

“No problem, Signora, I will take you straight away,” the man smiled politely.

Sabine climbed into the car alongside Amélie and secured her seatbelt before settling back in her seat as they pulled away from the curb. As she watched the building disappear behind them, she felt a lump in her throat. There was a very real chance that she would never see Francesca again. The idea of having things in her life that she missed felt new and unusual. It was a different feeling from Ryan’s detached existence.

Sabine started slightly as she felt a tiny hand worm its way into her own and squeezed. Looking down, she caught a pair of deep chocolate brown eyes gazing up at her in wonder and concern.

Sabine smiled at the girl and squeezed back, “Our adventure starts now, Chérie.”

“Where are we going?”

“Zürich, it’s in Switzerland.”

The girl frowned, Zoo rick?”

Sabine chuckled, “Something like that, Chérie.”

“Are we going to live there?”

“Probably not,” Sabine admitted. “But somewhere near there, soon enough.”

The girl seemed satisfied with the answer, but Sabine herself was far from convinced of her own answer. What was their future going to hold? Would they stay more long-term somewhere in Switzerland? The idea of staying anywhere long-term in her present circumstances scared her more than it should, but she saw no other choice at the current moment. Until their reason for running was over, she had little choice but to treat it as their expected future.

Naturally, Milan’s Central Railway Station was not their intended final destination, but Sabine did not want their driver to know that. Any connections that linked directly between herself, Francesca, and their onward journey would only serve to make the life of anyone looking for them that much easier. As a marked woman, it was lazy fieldcraft to take a straight line when she had the time to zigzag. It was with a pang of sadness that she remembered that Tom Spencer had taught her that particular lesson.

The private car dropped them off at the station door. After collecting their cases, Sabine led them through the concourse and out the far side again to the taxi stand. Here, she loaded them into a city cab to a random city center location. Once they arrived there, she hailed a second cab to take them onward to their final destination.

By changing direction and vehicle several times, it made it far easier for her to spot any tail that they might have acquired. In addition, it made the act of tracing their route, origin, and destination all the harder for anyone investigating their movements. It added an additional hour to their journey, but in Sabine’s mind, it was worth the trouble. Once she was satisfied that their trail was complex enough, she gave the driver their true destination: Milan’s Northern Porta Garibaldi train station. 

The pair that walked into the station was a far stretch from the awkward duo that had first set foot in Milan. The two now appeared to all the world like any other mother and daughter setting off on a journey together. While the idea still terrified Sabine, she knew that it was a role she needed to play, not just for Béatrice, but for herself too.

The northbound Swiss IC2 Express train to Zürich was not set to depart for half an hour, so Sabine found them seats in a cafe located by the platform. One thing she was learning quickly was that small children were a lot more amenable when they were well fed. A drink and a pastry would tide them over until they boarded the train. It also had the side benefit of getting them out of the main concourse areas in case anyone was scanning camera footage for matching pairs.

“Are you excited?” Sabine asked, settling them into a table in the corner with their refreshments.

Amélie beamed and nodded, “We’re going to Sw…izzyland!”

“We are,” Sabine agreed. “I promise that I’ll find somewhere that you’ll be safe and we can try and settle down into some sort of routine. I know all this travel is tough for you.”

“Will I go to school there?”

Sabine was not sure how to answer that question. It spoke of an uncertain future where her presence and role were yet indeterminate. “Next year, chérie, when you’re bigger.”

The girl seemed to ponder this proclamation. “Okay.”

“We have a lot to do before that point,” Sabine sighed, sipping her coffee. “I have to work out why some mean people are being bad.”

“What did they do?”

“They uh, they hurt some people,” Sabine answered softly. “You should never hurt other people unless it’s to protect yourself or someone you love. Do you understand, Chérie?”

Amélie nodded but looked uncertain. Sabine could not bring herself to tell the child any more at that moment, nor explain just how involved those people were in her own plight. Maybe one day she could tell her the truth when she was old enough to understand.

Sabine cursed herself. There she was, making plans again when they faced an uncertain future. She kept making the mistake of acting as though she would still be in the girl’s life at these various points in the future. It would be a long time before she was old enough to comprehend senseless murder, and there was no plausible way that Sabine would still be part of it.

Somehow, every moment that Sabine spent with the girl made her doubt her own plans to find her a real home and a permanent family. Every time she told Béatrice, ‘when you’re older,’ it became a little bit less of a brush off and a little bit more of a promise. The real question was, could she ever hope to keep it?

Looking down, Sabine caught sight of the gift-wrapped package resting in her handbag. She had no idea what was inside, but knowing Francesca, it was probably something monumental. That would be typical of her, she mused; Francesca was always so positive about her future, so very convinced she was right. Sabine, well, she wasn’t so sure herself.

The woman had already given them so very much: new identities, safe passage, a destination. She had even given them the clothes on their very backs. From nothing, Francesca Ricci had created two entirely new lives from the debris of tragedy. Granted, a suitcase full of women’s clothes would not have been her first choice, but under the circumstances, it seemed to fit.

As the two ate, Sabine considered her role in Béatrice, now Amélie’s, young life. This girl was old enough to understand concepts, but she was as yet, entirely dependent on her as an adult. The title of mother felt wrong, despite how she appeared to all the world. Even parents felt like a struggle at this stage of affairs. She was, however, determined to be the best guardian she could possibly be for the girl. Nobody would harm her while she still drew breath. At least that was something she almost felt comfortable doing.

The two ate in silence for a moment, the buzz of chatter and ambient sound around them filling the air. Sabine hadn’t felt hungry, but she had forced herself to eat the pastry. It was as much for appearances as it was to settle her restless stomach. She had never been much of an eater. Sometimes she had to physically remind herself to eat food any given day. With no family or housemates to consider, she rarely ate at consistent times.

Amélie shifted in her seat and looked momentarily sheepish, “I need to go toilet.”

Sabine looked over at the girl before glancing across at the women's restroom beside the counter and felt a jolt of nerves. She had used women's restrooms before, but for some reason, every slight thing seemed to tease at her fears of discovery at the moment. As it was, there was no way that she or the child could use the men's room, so it was not as though she had any other options.

Standing up, Sabine collected their luggage and led her charge across the cafe and into the restroom. Inside, it was quiet, save one occupied stall. Without waiting for instruction, Amélie skipped across to a stall and closed the door behind herself.

“Are you going to be ok in there by yourself?” Sabine called, uncertain as to what she should do. “Do you want any help?”

“I’m a big girl, mama. I can go pee-pee all by myself.”

Sabine felt a strange warmth in her heart as the girl called her mama. She knew that she wasn’t actually her mother; that was physically impossible. There was no reason why the title should feel good to her, but it did. The thought gave her a sudden burst of guilt and shame, something she was starting to get far too accustomed to at the moment. The feelings were increasingly complicated, and she hated that she was forced to confront them again.

A toilet flushed, and a woman exited the other stall, sending a bolt of fear through Sabine far stronger than any she had felt while working for the Agency. The woman, however, seemed incapable of detecting the interloper in her private space and merely smiled at Sabine in greeting.

“She is yours?” The woman asked, looking at Sabine in the mirror as she washed her hands.

“Uh, yes,” Sabine offered weakly, “She’s four.”

The woman smiled, “A good age. They’re starting to become more independent and need us less. Just hold onto that feeling until she turns fifteen.”

Sabine nodded and smiled half heartedly, “I can imagine.”

“I’ve had two,” the woman grinned. “I have the battle scars from all the sharp tongues!”

As casual as the conversation was, Sabine felt more than a little uncomfortable being a part of it, especially given their location. She knew that it was entirely irrational, but a part of her was convinced the woman would see through her at any moment. That if Sabine dared to act like Amélie’s mother, the woman would scoff and declare her a fraud on the spot.

“I’ll do my best,” she smiled politely.

“Well, I hope you have a nice trip, wherever you’re going,” the woman offered, drying her hands.

“Uh, you too,” Sabine replied awkwardly as the woman left the bathroom.

One thing Sabine had never been comfortable with, when she first became Alessandra, or this time, was the way women held casual conversations in such private spaces. Were they just being polite to her? Did they know? Was she doing this correctly? It was all a little too complicated for her, especially under the current circumstances.

As Sabine stood by the sink, she realized why she was feeling so nervous, despite her prior experiences. In the past, when she first became Alessandra, she had the cover of her mission and official sanction; if someone found out, it was all for the job. Here and now, things felt considerably more real; the consequences could ultimately result in their deaths should she fail, and her own humiliation at a minimum.

A strange feeling tickled at the back of her mind that made Sabine feel decidedly unsettled. Somehow, she suddenly found it desperately important that nobody saw through this version of her; that if they did, she would somehow cease to exist. Shaking her head, Sabine realized she now too needed to use the facilities. Deep internal reflection could wait; her bladder was calling. Slipping into a stall, she took care of business before anyone else decided to arrive and strike up another conversation.

Stepping out of the stall, Sabine washed her hands and regarded her reflection in the mirror. Her blonde hair was tied back in a high ponytail, and her makeup was light and barely noticeable. She was dressed in tan canvas shorts and a pale blue T-shirt. They were casual traveling clothes that suited a young mother in the heat of the Italian summer. It was so very far from the overly feminine vision that Alessandra had portrayed, but somehow it managed to feel more difficult for Sabine.

She had tried so hard to run away from the young woman in the mirror. Pain, fear, doubt? Closing her eyes, she let out a breath before reopening them and staring back at herself in the glass. No matter how hard she tried, Alessandra De Luca could not be hidden or pushed aside. Somehow she knew that allowing her to return this time had been a permanent decision; No matter what she did, Alessandra’s issues would have to be addressed if she wanted any hope of peace in her future as anyone.

Burying her feelings would not change the past, but perhaps she could change the future. Sabine Garnier and her daughter Amélie were going to live. She would get over it, and she would face what was to come as best she could.

Behind her, a toilet flushed and a door latch scraped before the second stall door opened, and Amélie joined her at the sink.

“You remembered to wash your hands,” Sabine grinned at the child. “Good girl.”

She could have sworn the four-year-old rolled her eyes at her. “Of course I am, that’s how big girls go pee-pee.”

“Come on then, big girl,” Sabine grinned, ruffling the child’s hair. “I think we have a train to catch.”

The walk to the platform was a short one, and the pair soon found their northbound train to Zürich. The train was  idling and ready to board, so they were able to find their seats and stow their luggage with plenty of time. Ahead of them lay a three and a half hour journey through the Alps. It would take them out of their comfort zone and into a new world of experiences. It was one that both terrified and excited Sabine.

“Are you looking forward to seeing the big mountains?” Sabine asked as she helped Amélie to settle herself into her seat with her coloring book. It continued to amaze her just how resilient the girl was, despite her experiences.

Amélie nodded, “Can we play in the snow?”

Sabine chuckled to herself, “I’m not sure we’ll get snow down low here in the summer, but maybe in the winter, ok? Or we can go visit the mountains sometime.”

There she went again, Sabine kicked herself, idly making future plans she was not sure that she could keep. As much as she cared for the child, she would have to remember that one day she would have to give her up to a more permanent home. She was not her parent, and she had no right to the role. The very least she could do was, in the meanwhile, give the girl hope; at the moment, it was all she had to offer.

 

 

September 2nd, 2007 -  Milan, Italy

“They’re staring at me,” Alessandra hissed under her breath. 

Francesca Ricci rolled her eyes and tutted with irritation, “Not for the reason you believe, Mia Cara. They stare because you are a beautiful woman, nothing more.”

They were walking along the promenade that overlooked the cerulean waters of Lago De Como. They had traveled north to the town that was the lake’s namesake so that Ryan had an opportunity to expand his experience interacting with the general public as Alessandra.

When Ryan had first arrived at the Villa, he and Francesca had worked together in private to perfect the initial version of Alessandra until Ryan had become comfortable playing her role. Once they were both satisfied with his progress, it was time to take the next step: public spaces.

It was one thing to perfect makeup techniques or look the part, but it meant nothing at all if Ryan could not manage to play the role when he was faced with the general public in real life. For his mission, he was going to need to be comfortable around large groups of people and more charged environments. That required exposure and experience. While he knew it was vitally important to the mission, Ryan was adamant that he hated the entire thing.

“It feels weird, I don’t like it,” she hissed.

“You will need to get used to it. This is how people look at women,” Francesca explained, adjusting her wide sunhat against the glare from the lake’s surface.

“I’m not exactly used to that,” Alessandra admitted sheepishly. “I keep thinking they can all tell. I’m waiting for them to laugh and point at me like some carnival sideshow.”

Francesca scoffed at her student’s remark. “There is no way that anyone will look at you and know that there is a man under that skirt, she affirmed, looking at Alessandra over her designer sunglasses. “I know it, and even I doubt it, more than not.”

Alessandra blushed furiously at her teacher’s words. It was not the first time that Francesca had praised her appearance, but she still felt uncomfortable all the same. She was wearing a pale blue tiered skirt that reached down to just above her knees with a white suntop that was decorated with small blue flowers. With a pair of high-heeled sandals and a small handbag hung over her shoulder, the outfit left her feeling extremely exposed, especially with the attention she was attracting from men.

This was not her first outing in public, but it was most certainly the largest. The first few times that Francesca had taken her out were short errands to the local village or to a quiet bar. Walking here along the Como marina, Alessandra was acutely aware of the brevity of her clothing and the sheer number of people far more acutely than she ever had before in her life. If it was possible, her senses were more wired than her time at the Farm when she was a raw recruit to the Agency.

Despite her uneasiness at her current presentation, the scenery around Como was breathtakingly beautiful. To the north, steep mountains rose up on either side of the lake, mere foothills compared to the towering Alps on the northern horizon. The town itself was old and expensive, a true gem of northern Italy and one favoured as a destination by the wealthy. Whether it was the cafes or the designer outlets, it was not a place for the tourist on a budget.

“Why are they so forward?” Alessandra asked quietly, smiling weakly as a man passed them, tipping his cap.

“They like to get the attention of the beautiful signorina,” Francesca smiled. “They want you to know that they notice. To them, it is a compliment on your beauty.”

“Random guys don’t just say hello to random women on the street back home.”

“Ah, but they do,” Francesca pointed out with a look of amusement. “Remember, you are experiencing this for the first time. For your American women, especially the pretty ones, this is often an infuriatingly normal thing.”

“Ugh,” Alessandra grimaced. “No thanks.”

“You will need to become more comfortable with being viewed as attractive to men, perhaps even to flirt back. I do not expect it to be easy for you straight away,” Francesca hesitated momentarily. “Unless you are, perhaps, Omosessuale?”

“Omo, come again?”

“You know,” Francesca shrugged coyly. “To favor the boys.”

Ryan shook his head firmly, “No, I’m not gay. I like girls.”

Francesca raised an eyebrow but remained quiet.

Alessandra crossed her arms haughtily. It was an act of embarrassment, and one she had intended to square her shoulders and make her look tougher. Unfortunately, it only served to elevate and emphasise her false bosom, something which made the attention of nearby men all the more obvious. With a huff, she uncrossed her arms and lowered her head. “I wish that I were ugly.”

“No, you do not, Mia Cara,” Francesca replied, putting her arm around Alessandra’s waist. “You are inexperienced, and it is terrifying. Not only are you being confronted with the attention of these corneo stronzo, but you are also moving through the world without the experience of even a little girl. I know this is new, but this is why we do this. You will get used to it, and I promise, they have no way to tell the truth. We will get coffee, and we will sit. Once we are done, we will walk, maybe ‘ave lunch, and then we will leave. I can promise you, no ‘arm will come to you while you are here. If any man bothers you, tell him vaffanculo.”

“What’s that mean?”

“To entertain himself with his own hand, you know?”

Alessandra blushed crimson. The idea of flippantly insulting some random man felt beyond her current levels of bravery. Then again, given the outfit that Francesca had made her wear, she was more afraid that those very men would go home to do exactly as instructed with images of her body in their heads.

“This will suit us nicely,” Francesca decided, spotting a waterfront cafe beside the harbor. Without waiting for Alessandra, she made her way into the open-air seating area and selected a table shaded by a large linen umbrella. Removing her sunhat, she ran her fingers through her long, dark hair to fluff it up.

“Keeping up with you is quite the mission at times,” Alessandra observed, smoothing her skirt carefully as she sat down across from her tutor.

“You are a smart girl, you keep up well,” Francesca shrugged. “I am not one to dilly dally. I make up my mind, and I take what I want; it is a waste to do otherwise.”

“So I’m learning.”

Francesca smiled wolfishly and winked at her. It was a far more playful side of the woman that she was only just starting to see. Their conversation was interrupted momentarily as a waiter arrived to take their orders. Once he was done, he departed politely to leave them to their conversation.

“So are you so afraid now? Or are you going to take what you want?”

“I don’t want this,” Alessandra pointed out.

“You do not want to succeed at your mission?” Francesca raised an eyebrow.

Alessandra rolled her eyes, “Obviously, but I mean… I don’t want to be good at being a girl, not for any other reason, that is.”

“You are a natural talent, I must admit,” The woman mused. “Why does it shame you so?”

“It’s… wrong.”

“To feel that way? Do you say that about the people you are doing this to ‘elp?”

“Just because they’re transgender doesn’t mean that I have to be,” Alessandra fired back. “I don’t have any kind of problem with people who are born whatever which way, that’s not my problem. They’re real people with real feelings, and that’s totally different. For me, this is just a job; a mission.”

Alessandra sighed, “I only agreed to this because it was the first chance I had of a real overseas mission. It had the chance to get me on the ladder at the Agency; it means nothing more than that.”

“Many men, they would not agree to such a thing even if you paid them a million dollars,” Francesca pointed out with a slight smile. “They would never dream of it.”

“Well… maybe I’m just comfortable in my masculinity,” Alessandra replied, suddenly feeling quite silly as the words left her mouth.

The older woman’s lip quirked, but she didn’t reply; the point had easily been made for her. Alessandra threw up her hands and sighed, “It’s just a costume.”

“Not many men would be quite so natural, or quite so beautiful,” Francesca pressed gently. “The way you have taken to this, it is different, I think. When I first meet you, there was a shy, withdrawn boy. Now look at you, a beautiful, outgoing woman with spirit and character. It might be for a mission, but I would not close the door on it so quickly.”

Alessandra crossed her arms and frowned, “What are you suggesting?”

“I am not suggesting anything,” Francesca held up her hands. “All I am saying is to have an open mind, there is no shame to consider your options. I do not know Ryan Knight, not really. Who he is beyond this assignment might well be different. The man who arrived and the woman who sits before me now are two very different people. It is more than an act; You, Mia Cara, are happy.”

The waiter’s return with their drinks prevented Alessandra from responding to her tutor immediately. As much as she wanted to tell Francesca that she was wrong, she knew that would be a lie. She was happier, that much was true, despite her desire to deny it off hand. The version of herself that she was portraying felt easier, it felt more fitting, and it scared the hell out of her.

“I’m not saying that you’re right,” she admitted slowly. “But I don’t hate it.”

Francesca smiled as she sipped her coffee, “That is all I ask. I am not here to demand you declare to the world that you are transessuale. All I ask is that you do not close your mind to it.”

“That’s… a little dramatic,” Alessandra breathed. “I never said anything like that.”

“You are portraying it, no?”

“That’s beside the point.”

Francesca smirked, “I would say it is entirely the point.”

“As I said, I don’t hate it,” Alessandra admitted, hooking her hair behind her ear. The long blonde tresses currently adorning her hair were a very expensive set of extensions that had taken hours to fit when she first began her training. “There are parts that I like a lot more than others. The high heels, for example? Hate that.”

Francesca laughed, “No woman who is being honest with herself likes them beyond what they do for her rear end. “Womanhood is more than the clothes.”

Alessandra bit her lip, “Is it weird to say I feel like I can be more honest? More expressive?” She sighed and  bit her lip for a moment, “It almost feels like I’m allowed to do anything that feels natural, and it’s ok now.”

“That is sadly more the fault of society’s gender roles,” Francesca agreed. “But I think you are more expressive. Since we work together, you do seem more at peace with the world.”

“Is it weird?”

“No.”

Alessandra sipped her coffee to buy herself a moment before answering. What had been an innocent conversation had put her in a rather difficult position. Confronting her feelings was something she had avoided for a long time. The death of her parents, her childhood; they had all been things she had wanted to leave far behind.

Yet somehow, here she was, confronting something that might well be core to her very existence. Was she admitting to herself that she was thinking about it? Perhaps… was that so bad?

“I think…” Alessandra began cautiously, her eyes laser focused on reaction from her mentor. “I think perhaps it is worth considering.”

Francesca nodded, a kind smile on her lips, “Good girl. That is all I ask.”

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