14th September, 2009 - Paris, France

“Hey, Knight, you got the Wozniak file?”

Ryan looked up from his computer screen, “Uh, I handed that over to Edwards last night; he should have it.”

Without even a word of reply, the interested party vanished, leaving Ryan’s cubicle undarkened by their presence. His attention irreparably disturbed, he rubbed his eyes and swiveled aimlessly on his chair for a moment as he cleared his mind. He had been combing the accounts of a front business all morning, and he still saw nothing remotely suspicious in the data. Accounting swore up and down it was dirty, but the data didn’t mean a thing to him.

“You look like you’re fit to up and call it a day already,” A female voice chuckled.

Ryan opened his eyes and squinted up at the figure standing in the entryway to his cubicle. “I’m sorr…Holy shit, Claire, is that you?”

The woman grinned at Ryan and jerked a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the station Chief’s office. “Mister Spencer told me that I could find you hiding over here. How long has it been? I see they got you working like a common stiff.”

Claire Patterson was quite the sight to behold. A classmate of Ryan’s at the farm, the two had bonded during the grueling process. With a lean swimmer’s physique, Claire always had the look of an athlete about her, despite never participating in anything more sporty than the occasional run when she felt guilty about dessert. She wore her hair in a short, kicky style that reached the nape of her neck, and her features always seemed to hold a youthful joy. As far as Ryan could see, she had not changed a single bit.

Ryan stood up and hugged his friend, “God, it’s so good to see you. How are you doing?  Wait, are you here in Paris now, or are you just visiting?”

Claire nodded, her smile broad as she returned the embrace, “Yeah, I just got in this morning. I’ve been assigned to Paris Station here with you guys now, so you had best get used to having me around.” Glancing over her shoulder at Spencer’s office, she grimaced, “Your boss is a bit of a hardass, though, isn’t he?”

“Tom? Ah, you get used to him,” Ryan waved a hand. “He’s a good guy with a lot of good lessons to teach. He’s just got one of those personalities that takes a bit of getting used to.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Claire shrugged. “Hey, have you eaten yet? I’ve not had a thing since the flight. Do you want to grab a bite?”

Ryan glanced back at the report on his monitor and reached over to lock the workstation, “Yeah, I‘d love that. I can deal with this crap later.”

Grabbing his jacket, he followed his friend out into the corridor and set off toward the elevator. “God, it feels like forever since I saw you last. Where have you been?”

“They had me bouncing around embassy stations doing this and that,” Claire shrugged. “Ireland, Japan, and I did six months in Australia.”

“Busy,” Ryan agreed as he hit the call button for the elevator

Claire made a face, “Kinda, but it’s been a whole lot of grunt work mostly. They haven’t given me anything good yet. I heard you got an undercover job right out of Langley. I’m dying for details. Can you share anything?”

Ryan bristled, “No, not really.”

The pair stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor of the embassy. Claire looked mildly disappointed but nodded her understanding, “Yeah, I figured you couldn’t. That’s the biz, right? I’m kinda hoping that I can get some action now that I’m here on a more permanent duty. I hear you guys are fairly busy.”

“It’s something alright,” Ryan agreed. “We’re not Frankfurt or Vienna, but we do a lot with Counter Terrorism Command.”

“Still, it’s good to be here,” Claire pointed out as they passed through the security checkpoint. “Feels good to get my feet down somewhere more permanent. Let’s me actually have more to my life than one freaking house plant.”

Ryan grinned. He knew his friend had grown up in rural Wisconsin with a large family. Traveling for their jobs made setting down roots a very difficult prospect, and one that made many long for a comfortable long-term posting.

Exiting the Embassy, they made their way across the busy Place de la Concorde and ordered lunch at a cafe just off Rué de Rivoli. While not as flashy as the many eateries closer to the Seine, it was a familiar haunt for Embassy staff. Most importantly for the Paris station team, it was considerably quieter, and the staff were vetted by the Direction Générale de la Sécurité Intérieure of French Intelligence.

“So,” Claire began as she poked at her salad. “I know you can’t tell me about this Op’ you snagged, but I did hear some rumors when I was back at Langley.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes, “Rumors?”

“I heard some talk that an operation went majorly sideways the year before last. It was some cooperation between Middle East and Finance. Apparently, that caused a real stink up to the seventh and nearly got a rookie officer killed.”

Ryan bristled internally but did his best to remain impassive on the exterior, “No? Doesn’t ring any bells.”

Claire raised an eyebrow, “Are you sure? I heard your name mentioned a few times. You know how leaky things are back home, especially when there’s decent drama.”

Ryan drained his coffee cup and put it back down with more force than he had intended, resulting in the cup hitting the tabletop with an audible clap. Wincing at the noise, he held up a hand, “Fine, yes, maybe it was. I still can’t, and more importantly, don’t want to talk about it, ok? It’s not you, Claire. I just, it was pretty rough.”

Claire smiled sympathetically, “I won’t bug you for answers anymore, but I heard you were caught up in something shitty. I just wanted to know that you were ok.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Ryan pointed out.

“That’s not what I said.”

Ryan shook his head, “I’m doing better than I was. Let's just say that it’s been a long road and the gas stations suck.”

Claire reached over and squeezed Ryan’s hand over the table. “Dude, I remember how you were when we were at the farm together. Of all of us, you had your shit locked down tight. The other guys treated you like crap, but you just kept on slogging through it and kicked ass. You certainly helped me.”

“You were doing fine on your own,” Ryan pointed out. “I’m pretty sure it was you who dragged me through that night infiltration.”

“That’s cos my ass grew up country, not in some suburban development, like you,” Claire grinned. “Seriously though, you really do seem different, and not good different.”

“What do you know?” Ryan asked, “Or rather, what do you think you know?”

Claire spread her hands on the tabletop, “Undercover operation went bad, and the officer involved sounded a lot like you. Something about Saudi  and sex trafficking.”

“That about sums it up,” Ryan admitted. “Meant to be a dangle and snatch, only, rather than pulling me and closing the trap, something went south, and I got lost. I was in the wind for a month and a half before they got me out.”

Claire breathed out quickly, “Jesus, that sounds shitty. Was it… Bad?”

Ryan blushed and looked away, “Yes.”

“I don’t need to know any more unless you ever want to tell me,” Claire offered. “Shit like that can eat you up if you don’t share it or get it out some way. Either way, it’s your choice, and I’ll respect it, but always know that I’m here if you need it. Till then, it’s case closed, and I’ve forgotten already.”

Ryan smiled gratefully, “Look, maybe one day I might tell you what happened. Right now, it’s still something that I’m processing as best I can. On top of that, it is classified, despite this place being all sieve-like as per usual.”

Claire nodded, “It always is. Welcome to the CIA, I guess.”

Ryan signalled for a waiter to pay their bill. “This crap aside, it will be good to get to work with you finally. Do you know your tasking yet?”

“DDI, Directorate of Digital Innovation," Claire replied, pretending to buff her nails. “They’re letting me be a digital super spy.”

Ryan shook his head as he handed the waiter his card to pay the bill. “That does sound like you. Maybe they’ll let you out into the field occasionally to see how us Ops Schmucks do it, huh?”

“Once in a while, for bad behavior,” Claire smirked as she shouldered her handbag.

“I’m sure they’ll let the mighty Claire-bear out of her dark cupboard once in a while.”

Claire went immediately red at Ryan’s use of the nickname, “Shit, you can’t use that name in front of anyone here, or my rep will be dead,” she pleaded. “I told you that nickname in confidence.

“What, and find out that the Admiral calls his daughter by a pet name?” Ryan grinned. “Anyway, you told me that fair and square, but sure, your secret is safe with me.”

Claire rolled her eyes at the most overused expression in the CIA. “I don’t trust you, but I can’t kill you.”

“I won’t harm your hard-earned reputation; you can do that by yourself,” Ryan winked. “Speaking of which, we had best be getting back before Tom goes from hard ass to pain in the ass.”

Claire hesitated for a moment, “There was one thing I did want to say, before we head back and have to act like professional governmental types again.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed, “Go on?”

Claire looked at him for a moment, her eyes flicking over him analytically, as though she was sizing him up for some unknown reason. “You know, I did hear one more thing about that job. It didn’t come easy; I had to drag it out of a guy over a lot of drinks and tickets to the Commanders. He said something about the agent on the operation being a chick.”

Despite his training at the farm and the unorthodox lessons of Tom Spencer, Ryan’s poker face was still woefully inadequate when it came to certain topics. His tell was small, but it was more than enough for Claire Paterson’s eyebrows to shoot up, “I would have loved to have seen it, you know.”

 

 

June 2nd, 2014 - Paris, France

There was something about being back in Paris that felt like a homecoming to Sabine. Having grown up in the United States, she had never even owned a passport until she went to work for the Agency. To her regret, her first experience of overseas travel had been the nightmare that was Operation Orsino. It was certainly not the best way to experience the world.

After that, she had bounced around a few embassy stations and made a few trips before she was finally posted to Paris. With no family at home in the US, she went where the Agency sent her, never really considering anywhere a permanent stop. Little did she know that the French capital would come to mean so much to her.

For Sabine, Paris was the first place that had felt like she belonged as an adult. She understood the people and the culture; it made sense to her. It was such a busy city, a melting pot of cultures and a vivid tapestry of art and music, things that she dearly loved. One thing she did not miss, however, was the traffic.

Outside Paris’ eastern station, the Gare de Lyon, the roads were choked with vehicles. This was not unusual at this time of the afternoon, but today it seemed especially bad. Their train had arrived at four thirty, and despite nearly twenty minutes having passed, they had yet to cross the River Seine, which flowed less than a block away. Thankfully, their destination was not particularly far, if they ever got moving, that is.

Ordinarily, Sabine would have used the Paris metro to navigate the city like most of its residents. Like Subways the world over, it was a fast and efficient way of covering the city. That being said, it still had its dangers, and at rush hour, it was packed to capacity. With their present circumstances and a small child in tow, she had not wanted to take the chance. In addition, surface streets made it considerably easier to spot any tails than a crowded subway system.

As they finally moved further from the station, the traffic began to ease, and they crossed the river heading south into more the residential parts of Paris. It was amusing for Sabine to watch Amélie as they drove. It was clear that the little girl was incredibly excited to be back in France, and it was her first time in Paris. As they drove, she remained glued to the window of the cab, taking in all the sights and sounds of the city.

Briefly, Sabine wondered what it might be like to properly show her the sights of Paris; to take her to see the Louvre or the Eiffel Tower, to visit Notre Dame or any of the other beautiful sights of the French capital. Just to spend time together and soak up more of her childlike awe as she took in the world around her would be a delight. The idea gave her a surprising feeling of warmth. Maybe if they got themselves out of this in one piece, a few days might not hurt.

Clear of the densest traffic on the main thoroughfares of the city, they made better progress. After twenty minutes, the driver dropped them off at their destination, a budget hotel on Rue De Tolbiac.  It wasn’t their actual destination, but it was a generic enough location to warrant no special interest should the man be asked about any unusual passengers. A mother and a daughter heading from a station to a hotel were of no interest to a man who saw forty or fifty passengers in a day.

Their true destination was only a short walk from the hotel on a quiet residential street dominated by white fronted mid-century apartment buildings. It was a street that could be found all over Paris, its pavements lined by cramped parking and buildings just tall enough to block out the road noise from the traffic passing a short distance away.

Finding the correct building, Sabine located a familiar buzzer and hesitated for a moment. She was making a huge gamble, and she knew it. Both Tom Spencer and Francesca had always told her to trust her gut, and at that moment, her gut told her that she needed help.

If her objectives here in Paris were to be successful, she could not complete them by herself. She needed someone inside the Agency, but without a connection to the Nice operation. She needed someone who would trust her, despite her current appearance and circumstances. Whether that was possible was going to become clear in the next five minutes.

Pressing the buzzer, she waited for several nerve-wracking seconds before it was finally answered with a crackle of static, “Allo?”

“Hello, Madame Patterson?” Sabine asked in French, hoping that it disguised her voice more than normal. “I was sent by a friend of yours. I need to speak to you about a matter of great importance, he said that you can be trusted.”

“Uh, sure…” the voice replied, a hint of wariness more than evident. “Come up, I guess.” A moment later, the buzzer rang out, and the door clicked open.

“Where are we going?” Amélie asked, following along with Sabine as they took the stairs up to the third floor.

“We’re going to see a friend of mine, remember? I’m hoping she can help us.”

“Is she like Nonna Francesca?”

“No, nothing like that,” Sabine shook her head, a slight smile on her lips. “She works with me, and I’m hoping she’s not going to turn us in to the bad men.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because technically, she should,” Sabine admitted with a deep sigh. “I’m hoping she believes us instead.”

“Will she believe me?” Amélie asked earnestly.

Sabine smiled and ruffled the girl’s hair, “Anyone would believe you, Chérie.”

Finally reaching the third floor, they found apartment thirty-nine a short distance down the hallway. Reaching over, Sabine hit the doorbell and stood back, her hands clasped non threateningly in front of her, where they were visible to the person inside.

After an excruciatingly long moment, the door unlocked and opened part way as a woman with short dark hair stared out at them suspiciously. She looked at Sabine for a moment, clearly not recognising her, before glancing down at Amélie with a slight frown. “Can I help you?” she asked slowly in French.

Sabine smiled sheepishly and switched to English, “I really hope so, Claire. I think you’re about our last hope.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t…?”

Sabine sighed and rolled her eyes, “Put the gun away, Claire-bear, and let us in; I’d rather not have this conversation out here in the corridor.”

Claire Patterson’s eyes went wide, “Ryan? What the… is that you?!”

Sabine blushed and nodded, “Yeah, I, uh, it’s me. Look, I can explain everything, but can you let us in first?”

Claire nodded slowly, unable to take her eyes off Sabine as she opened the door wide. With her other hand, she slid the Glock pistol she had been concealing back into the rear of her waistband. “What the he…ck is going on?” she corrected herself, glancing quickly down at Amélie again. “You’re a priority kill/capture. What the heck are you doing back here in Paris?”

Sabine hurried Amélie inside and closed the door behind them. Once they were safely inside the apartment, she leaned back against the door and nodded. “Yeah, I know that they’re looking for me. It’s been a complicated week. That’s why, well, this,” Sabine admitted, gesturing at her body.

“I’m going to circle back to that gorgeous skirt in just a second,” Claire raised an eyebrow. “I’m assuming that this little angel is Béatrice Laurent? Do you want to explain exactly what it is you did?”

Sabine knelt down beside Amélie and gave her hand a squeeze, “Chérie, this is my friend Claire, she’s the one we were coming to visit.”

“Bonjour,” Amélie offered uncertainly, trying to hide slightly behind Sabine in a sudden fit of shyness.

“Hey there, cutie,” Claire offered, giving the girl a smile before looking over at Sabine, “This you’re going to have to explain in very painful detail, because my head is spinning six ways to Sunday.”

Sabine straightened Amélie’s shirt and gave her nose an affectionate boop with her finger, “Hey, why don’t you go into the living room over there and get your book out? If you finish that cat you’re working on, you can show it to Tante Claire.”

“Ok,” Amélie beamed, grabbing her backpack and skipping through to the sitting room at the end of the corridor.

When she was gone, Sabine stood up and faced her friend, “Thanks for not getting weird about this, Claire.”

“Oh, I’m plenty weird about it,” Claire shook her head slowly. “Do you wanna tell me why you decided that this was the right moment to rock out with your frock out? Like, you’re on the run from the CI fucking A, Ry… fuck. 

Claire grinned and rolled her eyes, “I can’t keep calling you Ryan, looking like that. Sure, I know some girls are called Ryan, but it doesn’t look like it fits you right now. What are you using?”

“Sabine Garnier.”

“Sabine,” Claire mused. “That does seem a little more normal. “I’m guessing she’s not going by her legal name either?”

“Amélie Garnier,” Sabine admitted.

“Cute,” Claire observed. “So where were we… oh yes. You were going to explain what the heck is going on? They could have my job and throw me in jail just for failing to report that I’ve seen you, never mind helped you,” Claire pointed out tersely.

“I didn’t do what they said,” Sabine held up her hands. “It’s all a lie; Edwards is filthy dirty. I have proof that he called in the strike, and I was there when he killed Tom.”

“Jesus,” Claire cursed. “All they told us here was that Chief Spencer and several other people were dead and something about a terrorist bombing in Nice. There’s a whole mess about a kid being taken and you being responsible for all of it. CTC Europe took over, and it’s been need to know ever since.”

“Edwards killed Tom in cold blood,” Sabine explained. “He shot Marianne Laurent and ordered the strike that took out Abbas Ahmad. He was going to kill the kid, too, but I grabbed her and ran.”

“That’s wild,” Claire admitted. Tom? Really?”

“There is something rotten in the Paris office, and Tom paid with his life. He believed me, and he died because of it. I showed him proof; I have a recording of the strike and the murder of Laurent. It’s not concrete on its own, but it’s something.”

“When they told us, I didn’t know what to think; no matter what the hell they said you did, you’re not that kind of guy,” Claire made a face. “Well, you’re not… at the moment any kind of guy. Do you want to explain that part?”

Sabine blushed, which was an achievement, because she felt as though her cheeks had been glowing with embarrassment since her friend had answered the door. That Claire was still entertaining her made it important that she was as honest as possible. “Do you remember when you first got to Paris, you told me that you wished that you had gotten to see who went undercover on Operation Orsino? Well, take a good look.”

Claire’s eyebrows went up, “I mean, I had an idea, but it was nothing like this. Did you really look like this during that mission?”

“Not quite like this,” Sabine admitted sheepishly. “My cover back then was a lot more, well, more.”

“More than this? Damn,” Claire looked surprised. “I know that my friend Ryan is under there, but I’ll be damned if I can tell. You really do make it look effortless. How are you doing that?”

“It’s not, I’ve just had a lot of practice,” Sabine muttered with a sigh. “Preparing for Orsino was a lot of work and, well, I learned too much about stuff I didn’t wish to,” she added, plucking at her skirt.

“In this case, they had my photograph out to local law enforcement, and they were searching for me. You know that a lone guy and a child draw way more attention traveling than a mom and a daughter. Nobody’s likely to ask questions about why she’s with me and whether I’m really her father.”

“You don’t look like anyone’s father at the moment,” Claire grinned. “So go on, from the top. I want to know all the sordid details of this crap, or I’ll be dialing the director’s office.”

“You don’t have his number.”

“Director of Janitorial at the embassy,” Claire shrugged. “Get on with it.”

Over the next twenty minutes, Sabine retold the entire tale of their ordeal, from the beginning of the operation in Nice to their arrival in Paris that afternoon. She left no detail undisclosed and no event unclear, including the incident with the two men aboard the train. Somehow, being able to finally share it with someone who she knew understood the work was a significant relief.

“Look, I’ll totally understand if you don’t want to help us,” Sabine offered after she was done telling her tale. “Just please give us a head start before you call it in, for old time’s sake, eh?”

“Call it in?” Claire repeated, as though the words tasted strange in her mouth. “You have got to be kidding me. There is no god damn way that I’m letting them hurt a kid or get away with this bullshit. Fuck ‘em all.”

“So that’s a yes, you will help?”

“Sure as hell,” Claire nodded.

“You want to hear the tape?”

Claire shook her head, “No, I trust you, and trust doesn’t require proof. If you say you have it, then we’ll get it to those that will listen and nail this dickhead to the wall. Anyway, I have all the proof I need; nobody in this world is insane enough to feed me that much bullshit and turn up in a dress to do it.”

“Skirt,” Sabine clarified.

“Whatever,” Claire waved a hand. “For real though, how’s the kid handling all of this?”

“Not well, but better than I could have hoped,” Sabine admitted, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the living room. “Her world is a mess, and she’s aware enough to know that. I’m really not coping so well with it.”

“You seem to be doing ok,” Claire offered. “At least what I saw seemed pretty normal.”

“These days, I have no idea what normal is,” Sabine sighed.

“I know that for sure,” Claire agreed. “Seriously though, I’m really happy that you’re alive and you’re doing ok. You did the right thing; I’m not sure if I would have been brave enough to do the same.”

Sabine shook her head, “It wasn’t bravery. I didn’t have a choice.”

“I know,” Claire nodded. “I’ve seen enough in this job to know that by now. Come on, let’s go see this cat masterpiece. I think I want to get to know the little angel if you’re going to run around calling me Tante.”

 

 

Claire Patterson’s apartment was not large, but there was enough room to put Sabine and Amélie up in her spare room without it being too much of an imposition. While it was significantly smaller than Francesca’s palatial abode back in Milan, it had a more homely familiarity that put them both at ease. Amélie had been quite taken with Claire after she got over her initial shyness. Already an aunt to her sister’s daughter back in Norfolk, Claire knew all the right things to say to butter up a precocious four-year-old. In no time at all, the pair were as thick as thieves, much to Sabine’s own amusement.

They had eaten well, and Amélie had been put to bed a little after eight that evening. It was a routine that Sabine was starting to get used to, even as strange as that idea might have seemed to her less than a week ago. Even sharing the large spare bed felt somewhat more familiar than she had imagined.

“Here you go,” Claire returned from the kitchen with two glasses of wine, handing one to Sabine as she sat down on the sofa beside her. “We can talk business now the little tike is down for the night.”

“Thanks,” Sabine sighed. “You’re really good with her.”

“I had practice,” Claire smiled. “Suzie was her age only a couple of years ago. I got to fill her full of sugar and let her loose on her parents every time I went home to visit. You seem to be doing pretty well yourself.”

“I’m making it up as I go along,” Sabine sighed. “A few hints and tips here and there, but it’s mostly a big improv exercise.”

“Yeah, that’s parenting,” Claire agreed, sipping her wine. “What’s your big plan then, now you’re here, and I didn’t call the dogs in on your ass?”

“Log into the system, pull Edward’s address, and pay it a visit. That’s my first stop.”

“I can get you that,” Claire nodded. “I can probably get into the Paris camera networks too; provide you some eyes while you work.”

“You have no idea how much I appreciate the backup, thank you, Claire.”

“I do,” Claire nodded. “You’d do it for me if you could do anything more dangerous than open your email.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Sabine grinned. “That’s what we have you guys and the geeks in Science and Tech for.”

“If only I could find a man who wanted me for my mind as much as my body,” Claire groaned theatrically.

Sabine sipped her wine, “I always thought you had a pretty steady stream of applicants.”

“Yeah, but not many that stick around,” Claire made a face. “Too many of them are scared of a smart woman.”

“Men are really very fragile,” Sabine admitted absentmindedly. “Everything is about their ego; their sense of masculine pride and prowess. They won’t pee next to another dude for fear that someone might think they’re gay because they were close to another man. It’s all a fragile act, trying to project just how big and manly they are. Naturally, a smart woman would intimidate some douchebag without anything real to offer.”

“That sounds so strange coming out of that body,” Claire shook her head. “Are you sure that Ryan is really in there?”

“Of course,” Sabine frowned. “I don’t see the problem; that’s just how men are. Inside knowledge and all that.”

“Honey,” Claire offered gently, “That’s not really an observation a man would make about other guys… at least not a straight one.”

“I’m not gay,” Sabine asserted.

“I didn’t say you were,” Claire corrected, twisting on the sofa to look at Sabine more directly. “Can I just say something, something really out there and not have you exploding on me?”

“Go on,” Sabine narrowed her eyes.

“Well,” Claire began slowly, sliding back a few inches on the sofa. “I’m just going to say this, consider it a third-party observation. I’m not a shrink or anything, but there is something really hinky going on here.”

“Hinky?”

“Weird, strange, unusual, odd,” Claire waved a hand dismissively. “That’s not the point. My point is that this is really fucking weird, Sabs.”

“I still don’t like that nickname,” Sabine made a face. “Yeah, it is weird though, really weird, even for me.”

“You’re not acting,” Claire said flatly. “I don’t think this version of you is an act.”

“Of course it is, it’s a disguise,” Sabine frowned. “It’s just a bit much to take off, kinda.”

Claire shook her head, “That’s not what I mean. It’s the way you speak, move, behave; it all just feels female.”

“It’s meant to?”

Claire sighed dramatically, “You’re being obtuse. I mean that your whole presence just feels female. None of this feels like an act to me.”

Sabine’s expression darkened, “I had to get good at it, or I risked being killed. That kind of incentive burns it into your head.”

“Orsino,” Claire nodded.

“Yeah, that.”

Claire reached out and squeezed Sabine’s arm, “All the years that we worked together since then, and you never did tell me anything about it. That wasn’t secrecy, that was shame, wasn’t it?”

“In so many words,” Sabine nodded gravely. “Pretty much everything you heard about it was true. One of the worst kept secret in the Agency, I guess. For me, that meant years of therapy, and I was never the same person ever again.”

“No, you weren’t,” Claire agreed. “The Ryan Knight that I’ve known for the last six years was nothing like the guy that I went through the Farm with. I guess after a while, I got used to that version of you, and I accepted that people change. I never knew just how much of that was because of those assholes.”

“Most of it,” Sabine admitted, a look of bitterness on her face. “Some of it I created myself in my shame.” 

“How long did you do this for, back during Orsino?”

“The girl thing?”

Claire nodded.

Sabine thought for a moment, “I guess, three weeks of training initially. After that, I was on mission for about a month before I got taken. After that, they had me for six weeks or so. I guess maybe three, three and a half months?”

“And for over half of that, you were a prisoner, right?”

“Yeah,” Sabine replied quietly. “Not exactly a good time.”

“You don’t need to answer this,” Claire began slowly. “Did anything bad happen to you while you were in there?” Like… assault?”

Sabine chuckled, which was something that caught the other woman entirely off guard. “Yeah, I don’t think assault quite covers it,” she admitted darkly. “The first night I was there, they raped me. It was one guy, and he did it and then left, like it was nothing more to him than a chore he had to finish. After that, they did it four or five other times in the first few days, until I stopped resisting them.”

Claire reached over and squeezed Sabine’s hand but stayed silent, her eyes glassy with tears.

“After that, it was made very clear to me that if I didn’t allow the clients to do to me as they pleased, that I would be raped, killed, and dumped in the desert. I had no choice but to comply,” she smiled weakly. “If I wanted to live, I had to sleep with dozens of men. I tried to count once, but I can’t remember, not properly.”

“Fuck,” Claire breathed. “What the shit… I had no idea.”

“It wasn’t something that I wanted to advertise,” Sabine sighed. “I wanted to put it all behind me, to bury it and get on with my life, Ryan’s life.”

“Ryan’s life?”

“I became her; my cover,” Sabine admitted. “When I was training for the operation and during that first month in Rome, I started to feel comfortable as Alessandra, my cover. I felt far too comfortable; hell, she began to feel like freedom, like real happiness. Once I was in that place, that hell, I let myself become her fully and completely. It made it a little bit less… no, that’s not right.”

“What do you mean?”

Sabine frowned, “I told myself that I let myself become her, because being fucked, beaten, and abused by men hurt less if I thought of myself as female. That if it was happening to her, it wasn’t really happening to me, to Ryan Knight. Somehow, if I became her, if I became someone separate, it didn’t hurt me.”

“I think the truth is that shit fucked me up so much that I couldn’t hold on to him anymore. I don’t think I ever fully got him back,” Sabine admitted, a look of surprise on her face as she realized what she was saying. “When it was all over, and I got back home, I buried her, I buried Alessandra. I told myself that all of this happened to her; that if I locked her away, then the pain would go with her.”

“It didn’t, did it?” Claire offered quietly.

Sabine shook her head, a look of blank shock on her face, “No, I’ve lived with it ever since.”

“You were a victim,” Claire said softly. “None of this is your fault.”

“Doesn’t really make much difference to the end result,” Sabine pointed out.

“No, but healing trauma means you need to blame those who are responsible, not yourself. You need to absolve yourself so that you can start to recover.”

Sabine looked uncertain for a moment, hesitating as though there was something close to the surface that she dared not admit, even to herself. “I’m not sure that I want to know who I am if I  recover.”

“Does it matter, really?”

“I guess not,” Sabine conceded reluctantly. “It terrifies me in ways I never truly imagined: Doing this again, it’s brought it all back to the surface. Things that I managed to suppress are back, and they won’t be quiet when I need to focus most of all. I’m scared it’s going to get Amélie hurt.”

“You really care about her, don’t you?”

“I do,” Sabine smiled slightly. “Weird, huh?”

Claire slid over and wrapped her arm around Sabine’s neck, “Not that weird at all, girl.”

“I’m not… a girl,” Sabine offered, more weakly than she wanted to.

Claire shook her head, “You turn up on my doorstep asking for my help with the world on your heels. You’ve snatched this little girl from the jaws of death and refuse to let anyone hurt her like some wild ass mama bear that’s gonna whap anyone that gets near your cub. A cub, that I might add, absolutely adores you.”

“Screw the cute skirt, hair, and makeup; it’s the rest of you that screams woman to me, not some bullshit you can put on and take off. It’s your mannerisms, your voice, your essence, it just screams female. I don’t give a crap how many times you tell me it’s a disguise; it’s so very clearly the missing piece.”

“Missing piece?”

“Yeah, the missing piece,” Claire nods, waving a hand at Sabine. “There was always something off about you. All the time we knew each other, you just seemed… unfinished.”

Sabine shook her head, “Claire, come on, not now. I don’t need this.”

“Clearly you do,” Claire pointed out dryly. “You’ve been dying under this mountain of shame about this stuff forever. Not just the awful, horrible, evil parts, but the rest of it too; the girl stuff. You’ve been killing yourself with shame because deep down, you love it.”

“No,” Sabine murmured. “No, it’s not…”

“When we first met, you were so different from the other guys in our class. You got on so well with the other women and me that I always figured that you were just gay or something. Either way, you were safe, so I let you in where I never let guys before. We became really tight friends, and I learned more about you. You weren’t gay, shit, you weren’t really into anyone at all, were you?”

“Admittedly no,” Sabine conceded. “That doesn’t mean anything, though.”

“I think it means your head was so damn mixed up trying to work your own ass out, that you couldn’t work out whose butt you preferred,” Claire smirked. “You turn up at my door looking like a completely normal woman, and somehow, it’s not that strange. Why? Because now that I’ve seen it, it can’t be unseen; it’s like turning on the light for the first time. This fits you in ways that I didn’t have words to describe before. You don’t just look natural, you look like you.”

“I… uh.”

“I won’t push,” Claire insisted, “but please, for the love of god, just consider it, ok?”

“I can’t afford an emotional breakdown while I’m trying to fix this mess, Claire,” Sabine pleaded.

“Did you ever consider that you reject this so hard because you attached womanhood to what happened to you? You attached that pain to the girl beneath the surface, and now any sight of her causes you pain. You worked so hard to drag bits of Ryan Knight over her that it’s actually hurting you more to hide it all.”

“It doesn’t suck,” Sabine conceded. “Help me get through this all, and I promise, if I’m still alive and not in federal prison, I’ll give it serious thought, deal?”

“Deal,” Claire nodded. “Now finish your wine and get your butt to bed. Tomorrow, we’re going to commit lots of crimes, and you need your beauty sleep.”

Comments are the lifeblood of authors. Please leave a comment with your thoughts/feelings and I'll answer! Let me know what you think!