October 19th, 2007 - 40,000ft Over the Mediterranean

Ryan Knight was sitting at the far back of the cabin aboard the Company Gulfstream as it cruised westward, high above the Mediterranean Sea. Beyond the drone of the jet engines, it was relatively quiet in this part of the aircraft, and nobody was disturbing him, a circumstance that suited him just fine. Elsewhere in the jet, people were celebrating the successful conclusion of the operation or getting some much-needed sleep on the long flight to Aviano Airbase in Italy. 

It didn’t feel like a success to Ryan. By all quantifiable metrics, the mission had succeeded in achieving its objectives. They had tracked the traffickers, and they had ended their operation. In doing so, they had acquired significant financial and client data that leveraged significant capital for the Middle East Division. It was, despite what had happened to him, somewhat of a coup. All it told him was that in the grand scheme of things, he was an acceptable casualty.

The last six hours since his liberation had been a blur of activity for Ryan. The helicopter that extracted them from his prison had transferred them to SUVs out in the desert under the cover of darkness. After that, they had driven to a safehouse on the outskirts of the city, where they had arrived just before dawn.

The safe house had been basic, but it had given Ryan the opportunity to change out of Alessandra’s clothes and to take a shower. He still had her long hair and sculpted nails, so the plain grey tracksuit that they had given him failed to make him feel much more masculine. By this point, Ryan was so used to behaving like a woman that he was struggling to discard the act and behave like his old self again. No matter how hard he had scrubbed, the person looking back in the grubby bathroom mirror had still looked like a young woman.

After an initial round of debriefing, they had left the country aboard an Agency jet out of King Khalid International airport. Taking off just after six in the morning, they had been airborne for around three and a half hours already. After landing in Italy, they would fly onward to Lakenheath in England for fuel before the Atlantic crossing that would take them all home.

Ryan had barely slept more than fifteen minutes since his rescue, and he couldn’t manage to find sleep even now. Outside the window, he could see lights twinkling in the distance, highlighting cities along a faraway coastline. Down below in the inky darkness, millions of people were sleeping peacefully in their beds, their days only just about to begin. They were living their lives, untroubled by the nightmare he had barely survived. How he wished he could be one of them at that moment in time.

“I thought you might want some breakfast?”

Ryan turned away from the window and looked up at the owner of the voice. Above him, the bearded soldier from his rescue was holding something out toward him.

“What is it?” he asked tentatively, glancing at the foil-wrapped object.

“Kabab tabei,” The man explained, tossing the roll to Ryan. “Kinda like a Haji breakfast burrito; One of the terps at the compound, his cousin makes some seriously mean ones.”

Catching the roll in his surprise, Ryan carefully unwrapped it before taking a tentative sniff. Sensing nothing horrific, he bit into the roll and chewed; it wasn’t awful. The soldier dropped his bulk into the seat that was facing Ryan as he unwrapped his own roll and took a large bite. Chewing for a moment, regarding Ryan thoughtfully, “You ok, kid?”

Ryan wasn’t sure how to answer the question. He had yet to really process what had happened during Operation Orsino. Truth be told, he didn’t presently have any real desire to reflect upon it unless he was forced to. “I guess so.”

“You don’t look it, kid.”

“My name is Ryan, I’m not a kid.”

The man smiled, “I don’t mean no disrespect, Officer Knight. My oldest is approaching your age; it’s a force of habit.”

“You have children?”

The man grinned and nodded, “Sarah, Jenny, and Michael. They’re the bane and joy of my life. The best thing I ever did for this world.”

“Thank you,” Ryan offered, “ well, for saving me.”

“It’s what we do,” the man shrugged, extending a hand to Ryan. “Pete, by the way, Pete Sutherland.”

Ryan shook the spade-sized hand attached to an arm so broad it resembled his own thigh. “How do you manage to do this job with kids at home?”

Sutherland shook his head and glanced out the window for a moment. “I spent my entire career doing what Uncle Sam told me to. I went where they sent me and shot who they told me to shoot. I don’t have a lot of transferable skills for the civilian sector. When Langley offered, I said yes. It’s better than working in some crummy office gig in Tulsa or working construction till my back gave out.”

“What about the risk?”

“My wife’s more than used to it,” he admitted. “She married a SEAL; that’s as much of a calling as wearing the trident itself.”

Ryan was silent for a moment, uncertain what to say. He knew his job was dangerous, but without a family of his own, he really hadn’t considered how others might feel about their line of work.

“You know, when they told me about this whole gig, I didn’t think…” Sutherland trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess that I wasn’t what you expected,” Ryan offered with a sheepish smile. He knew exactly where the man’s mind had gone, and it was more than a little embarrassing.

“Yes and no,” the man chuckled. “I went in there expecting one thing and… shit.”

“What?”

“I don’t mean to offend you or nothin’,” Sutherland cautioned. “I guess I expected a guy in a dress or something equally fake. Makeup and prosthetics and shit,” The man stroked his beard and shrugged, “You’re a lot like my eldest, Sarah. Even now, like this, you remind me a lot of her.”

Ryan felt his cheeks flush at the meaning of the comparison and chided himself for such an emasculating response. He was more than aware that people were treating him strangely; they had been since his rescue. For many of them, it was their first time seeing him like this, as Alessandra. Even now, in this halfway house, this mix of genders, he leaned more toward the feminine. It was as much a habit now as it was an act, something he had learned and would need time to unlearn. He had needed to give himself over so fully to his portrayal that he was still uncertain where the real him and Alessandra blended into one being.

Sitting here across from the grizzled bastion of masculinity that Sutherland represented only made him feel all the more feminine. Ryan pushed the loose hair out of his face and tried to square his shoulders more assertively, “I didn’t get a lot of chances to, since… You know.”

The man shook his head and smiled. “Even that, you don’t even see it, do you?”

“What?” Ryan frowned.

“When you got all shy suddenly, you looked away and hooked your hair behind your ear. My Sarah would always do that when she was embarrassed about something.”

“I’m not a woman,” Ryan blurted out. “It’s just a costume, just for the job. I did this… I had to do this.”

Sutherland held up his hands in surrender, “I’m not implying nothing, ok? I just, well, I’ve been doing this shit a long time, kid. I may pull triggers for a living, but you learn a lot about people doing a job like this. Sometimes a lot more than you want to,” he explained. “People are at their most honest when the chips are down. That’s all I’m saying.”

Ryan wasn’t sure what to say in response to the man’s comments. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the subject himself.  He had barely begun to process the horrors of his experiences during the past month and a half, but he knew it would not be a smooth return to his old life. There was no way on earth anyone could experience what he had and walk away unharmed; it was impossible.

What he refused to admit was what Pete Sutherland had so aptly identified in his battlefield psychology. When it had been his turn, his moment to stand, he could not. When he had been tested, pulled to breaking point, and left without hope, she had protected him. Alessandra had survived Riyahd, not Ryan Knight. She had managed to keep him alive, but how much had it cost him to ask for her help?

Turning away, Ryan looked out over the inky blackness of the Mediterranean and doubted.

“I’m sorry,” Sutherland offered more quietly. “Clearly, you’ve been through hell. We got read into the Op pretty late, but what I read, this whole shit is a fucking mess.  You got tossed into it and left to swing when they fucked up. It isn’t fair, not even close. Look, I want to tell you something, if you’ll let me?”

“Go on, stick another knife in,” Ryan sighed.

“When we hit that place tonight, we were hoping to find a prisoner, a victim. It had all gone fucking wrong, and we got called in to clean up their mess and rescue you. That’s what we do, most of the time, we’re the solution to other people’s fuckups. When we kicked in that door, and Kyle went inside, I saw this banshee, this freaking valkyrie, swoop into action and deck one of my best guys. Dude’s former Delta; he’s a tough guy, and he went down like a sack of shit. She was filled with fire, with fight, and anger. She wasn’t a victim, no matter how much she was a prisoner.”

“I’m not a she,” Ryan glowered.

Sutherland waved his hand, “Not my point. No matter what happened to you, you never gave up hope. It never broke you, and you came out fighting at what you thought was the very end. You faced it on your feet, and you earned a bunch of respect from my guys when they heard. What you are doesn’t matter… who you are, does.”

 

 

May 30th, 2014 -  Milan, Italy

Ryan made it back to the apartment just after midday. While blood no longer stained his clothes, he could still feel Tom Spencer’s life force coating his skin. After leaving the mall, he had stolen a change of clothes and taken a circuitous route through the city to throw off any possible surveillance before finally deciding it was safe enough to return to Francesca’s apartment.

Finally safe inside, he was at long last able to let his guard down and relax. He had begun the day with a solid plan and hope that he might get himself out of this mess, only to have everything torn apart at the seams right before his eyes. Now, a good man lay dead, and he was worse off than he had been before. He was only glad that Francesca was taking care of Béatrice today. In his present state, he was in no fit state to entertain a child, no matter how much he cared for her. 

Slumping down against the wall, he was hit by the full weight of what had just transpired. Tom Spencer was gone. He had been more than just his boss at the Paris Station; he had been the man who took a chance on a broken agent after the conclusion of Operation Orsino. He had seen potential in Ryan, potential that the Agency had been prepared to throw away. They had used him for their own benefit and discarded him. To them, he was a resource; to Tom, he had been potential.

Try as he might, he couldn’t prevent himself from crying for Tom Spencer. Ryan knew that Tom had left behind a wife, Monica, and two kids, Jane and Peter. His family back in Paris would never see their father or husband again. Ryan had met them at more than one embassy function, and even now he could see their faces in his mind. Greg Edwards might have pulled the trigger, but Ryan knew that it was he who had put Tom in the position to die.

Making his way into the bathroom, Ryan stripped out of his clothes, dumping them where they fell on the tiled floor. Turning on the faucet, he stepped into the shower. Leaning forward, his hands pressed against the tiled wall, Ryan drowned his pain in the scalding hot steam. As he watched the last traces of Tom Spencer’s blood wash away in the swirling water by his feet, he promised himself that he would make the man’s sacrifice count for something. No matter what happened in the future, he would avenge his mentor, and he would see that no harm came to little Béatrice.

That beautiful little girl had no part in this nightmare. This bloody, unforgiving mess was not of her doing, and Ryan would do what it took to protect her. He could not allow her to lose anyone else. Too many people had died for this insanity, and she was not to become one of them. After the day’s events, it did not feel overly dramatic for Ryan to believe that if it came to it, he would lay down his own life before he allowed anyone to harm her.

Stepping out of the shower twenty minutes later, Ryan heard movement somewhere out in the apartment. Drying off quickly, he grabbed a robe off the door and checked his pistol before slipping out into the hallway, the weapon raised, but tucked tightly into his chest. He heard the sound again, a footfall and a scrape. Advancing slowly but quietly, he moved along the corridor.

The dining room and kitchen were both empty, and Ryan heard a flutter from the far end of the hall. Entering the Living room, he swept the space quickly before stopping dead as he faced the main living space. Francesca was sitting comfortably on one of the large leather sofas, her legs crossed comfortably as she read a fashion magazine.

“You can put your gun away, Mia Caro,” she offered by way of greeting, not even glancing over in his direction. “Your morning was no success?”

“How?”

Francesca looked up and raised an eyebrow, “Nobody who had a good morning takes a shower with a pistola.”

Ryan walked over, lowering the weapon, “My Station Chief is dead, and I’m even further from proving my innocence,” he sighed, sitting down beside her and placing the weapon on the coffee table next to her steaming cup of black coffee. “For a moment, he believed me, but Edwards got to us. He shot him dead, and the only other witness died in the gunfight; now anyone who might have believed me will think that I’m guilty of his murder too.”

“I’m sorry,” Francesca offered sincerely, reaching out to squeeze his arm. “What will you do now?”

Ryan shook his head, “There isn’t much that I can do. I gave a copy of the recording to a friend, but other than that, I’m out of real options. Edwards is the only survivor of what happened, and he will convince the Agency that I killed two fellow officers. On top of everything else, they won’t need much convincing; they’ll shoot me before they listen to anything I have to say.”

Francesca cursed under her breath, “What is it you Americans like to say, you are between a rock and a hard place?”

Ryan smiled sadly and nodded, “I don’t want to bring this down on your head, Francesca. We need to move on, get out of your space, and not drag you into this mess.”

“Ridiculous,” she waved a hand dismissively. “I will do as I promised; I will get you your paperwork, but I fear it will not be enough on its own.”

“How so?”

“A man and a bambina traveling alone; it is something that draws the attention of the authorities,” she mused. “No matter how good the documenti, it will draw unnecessary scrutiny, I fear.”

Ryan knew she was right. After what had happened, they would expect him to flee Milan as soon as possible. To lie low would place far too much risk on Francesca and her people. While the CIA might have elicited her help in the past, they wouldn’t even hesitate to destroy her if they discovered that she had helped him or Béatrice.

“I’m going to have to leave. I’ll have to take my chances with whatever paperwork you can get me,” he sighed. “I’ll take Béa, and we’ll head north, maybe Switzerland.”

Francesca gave him a long and interrogative look. “You care for her, do you not?”

“More than I thought possible,” Ryan sighed. “Am I insane?”

“No, Mia Caro,” Francesca smiled. “You care for her; it is only natural. I did always think you would make a wonderful parent one day.”

“I’d have to date for that,” Ryan chuckled darkly. “I never really had the drive, especially not after what happened. I guess being a father was never on the cards for me.”

Francesca paused for a moment, her expression fracturing slightly. “That… is not what I mean, Mia Caro. Perhaps, however, una madre in this case, it could solve your problems.”

Ryan tensed up at her words. He would have been lying if he said he had not considered the idea himself, but unlike Francesca, he had dismissed it out of hand. The idea of being anything close to Alessandra again was almost too painful for him to consider.

“I know it might be difficult for you, Mia Caro, but it could allow you and the bambina to travel far more easily. The sight of una madre and the bambina, it is so common; people, they will not look twice.”

He knew that she was right, and he hated it. The Agency was looking for a man and a child. Nobody would bat an eye at a mother and daughter anywhere in the world. After what had happened that morning, he had become a priority target for the agency. One that they would not stop chasing until he was dead or in their custody. He also knew that Edwards would do his best to make sure that it was the former if he could, and that it would mean the same end for Béatrice.

No matter how much the idea hurt, Ryan knew in his heart that he had to do what was right for Béatrice. “Ok,” he sighed, “you win.”

“It is not about win or lose,” Francesca replied softly. “You are uniquely equipped to take advantage of this. Doing so, it can be to the benefit of both of you.”

“I…” Ryan swallowed, his throat dry. “I know you’re right, but I don’t want to, not after last time.”

Francesca took his hand in hers and squeezed. “Mia Cara, I think you punish yourself more than you should. When we work together those years ago, I see someone beautiful, someone who was capable of so very much. I saw someone who was so very real.”

Ryan cast his mind back all those years. He wished he could explain to Francesca exactly what it was about the idea that terrified him, but he could not bring himself to utter the words. What he had experienced had changed him; it had nearly torn him to pieces. Try as he might, he knew that she was right. In all of the scenarios he had mapped out, he could not see a viable path forward without it.

“Ok,” he nodded. “But not until I have explained this all to Béa. She’s been through enough already. This will only confuse her more if I surprise her.”

“Sensible,” Francesca nodded. “I will not hurt you, Ryan, I promise. You understand that, yes?”

Ryan swallowed. “Yeah… I do.”

 

 

“Fetch for me some basil, please.”

“Uh, which cupboard is that?” Ryan frowned, uncertain where Francesca kept her herbs and spices. They were making dinner, which was a strangely normal activity after the day that Ryan had been through. Francesca had declared that they would have a normal evening together, a time to slow down and relax in what was a complicated and stressful few days. Ryan knew it was for Béatrice as much as it was for him, but he appreciated it more than he knew.

“Cupboard? What do you take me for?” Francesca scoffed as she stirred the sauce, “I am Italian, I only have the fresh herbs. The pot by the window, it is on the left. Pah, Americans, no culture!”

“Look, I’m more of a takeout pizza or instant noodle kinda guy,” Ryan admitted, following her instructions. “When I do cook, the basil comes in one of those little glass jars.”

“Ba-sil… not this bay-zil,” Francesca scolded him. “Fetch it, come on.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and made a face at Béatrice. This, in turn, made the child giggle gleefully. It was a sound that Ryan was really starting to love, especially considering what she had been through. It was a sign that she was still in there, that there was a chance she could heal from this painful event. He would make sure that she had the best chance possible. Following Francesca’s instructions, Ryan cut fresh basil leaves from the plant and placed it on the cutting board for Francesca to add to the sauce as she desired.

“With a little one, you are going to need to learn to cook,” Francesca continued. “Fast food, it is not good for the bambina.”

Ryan glanced over at Béatrice, a look of uncertainty flashing across his face,  “That sounds awfully long-term.”

“You cannot stay in hotels and eat in restaurants forever. She is a growing child; she will need good, healthy food, as will you.”

“This whole mess feels a lot bigger than I imagined, “Ryan sighed. “I am not prepared for this.”

Francesca smiled, “It is always so terrifying, but you adapt.”

“I hope so,” Ryan admitted.

Francesca lifted the pan off the stove and began to serve the risotto pollo she had been cooking. “You will do fine, I have no doubt you will find your way in time. You may stumble, but that is parenthood.”

“Parenthood is a big word.”

“It is,” Francesca agreed as she handed Ryan loaded plates. “But like a good risotto, it is the sum of its parts. By themselves, they are not so much, simple even. Put them in a pan, and you tie them together, that is when it becomes something special.”

“Food metaphors I can work with,” Ryan chuckled.

After serving the food, the three sat down together to eat. It was the first home cooked meal that Ryan had eaten in days, and for the first time, he started to feel a modicum of normality. Francesca was right; taking the time to slow down and have a personal moment was so very necessary, more so now than ever.

It was not just the turmoil of the last few days that had plagued him, but the last seven years that hung over him like a shadow. If Ryan was honest with himself, it was a feeling of discomfort that he had known for a very long time. Somehow, sitting here with his mentor and Béatrice, he was starting to feel the smallest shard of hope.

This version of Francesca was extremely new, too. When he had gotten to know her, all of those years ago, the woman he came to respect was one of hidden tenderness and many secrets. To the public, she was the model of perfection. Her hair and clothes, her movement and her speech were all carefully crafted to create an image that demanded respect. Nobody crossed Francesca Ricci, not willingly. The woman he had come to know was one of surprising empathy and tenderness. Behind the image she curated, she cared deeply about others and wanted the best for them. 

She had been brought on to help Ryan prepare for his role, but their relationship had gone far beyond that. She had shown him true care and kindness, a tender guiding hand as he found his way through what proved to be an uncomfortable and difficult process. Together, they had created a wonderful person. Alessandra de Luca had been kind and compassionate; she had brought joy to even Ryan. Part of the shame he felt in seeing Francesa again was that he was truly ashamed of what he had allowed to happen to her loving creation.

Since his arrival on Francesca’s doorstep with little Béatrice in tow, Ryan had seen yet another facet of the woman. Beneath the businesswoman and the mentor, he found the love of a mother. She cared deeply for the little girl, almost as much as he did. Ryan could feel that care in her guiding hand, helping to prepare him for something that he was woefully unequipped to handle.

“This is good,” Ryan admitted, sipping his wine. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us, Francesca.”

“Non è niente, it is nothing,” the woman waved her hand. “I am glad to ‘elp, you know that. I am only sad it will not be for so long. When all of this silliness is over, you must come again, we have time to make up, you and I.”

“If we make it out of the far end of this thing in one piece, I would love to,” Ryan admitted with a frown. “I waited far too long, I am sorry. I just don’t know if we have any real chance of seeing the far side of this mess.”

“Pessimism, it only makes the outcome the more certain,” Francesca pointed out. “A little optimism, it goes a long way.”

Ryan knew she was correct, but with the uncertainty that lay ahead of them, it was difficult to find hope that he might live to see that better future. What it would look like, he had no idea at all. With so many things going wrong in the last few days, hope was a luxury he could not rely upon.

The return to Alessandra loomed ahead of Ryan like a spectre. He knew it was necessary, that it was even a good idea in their present circumstances, but he was still terrified of the prospect and the ghosts that followed. A mother and child would blend in far easier than a single man with a little girl, but that woman had a past that was hard to forget.

What that might do to Béatrice and their future together, he did not know. However long they were together, he was dedicated to keeping her safe and happy, no matter the cost to himself. Whether that was as Ryan or Alessandra, it did not matter. Somehow, that she might understand, that she could accept, Alessandra felt like the most terrifying question of all.

“You look lost in thought,” Francesca prompted after they had finished eating.

Ryan nodded, “I am. I have a lot to think about and so very little time to do it. You know what, included.”

“What are you saying?” Béatrice asked, furrowing her little brow. “I don’t understand.”

Ryan had been speaking English with Francesca and had almost forgotten that Béatrice did not understand the language yet. “Just grown-up things, Béa,” Ryan offered in French. “We are talking about something I have to do.”

“What’s that?”

Francesca smiled at Ryan and took the opportunity to begin clearing the table. Ryan got up and moved around until he was sitting beside Béatrice. He paused for a moment to consider his words carefully.

“Béa, you know how we’re going to go on an adventure soon?”

The little girl nodded thoughtfully as she manipulated the limbs of a doll Francesca had given her in strange and unusual directions that would give a gymnast a headache. “Yes?”

Ryan smiled, “Well, you’re going to live with me, and we’re going to be… well, like a family, of sorts.”

“What do you mean?”  Béatrice asked cautiously. “Like a new papa?” she asked slowly, as if considering the idea in real time.

Ryan swallowed the lump in his throat. The girl’s words cut through his heart like a bullet. Maybe she was young enough to wrap her head around it? Maybe she could adapt?  He hesitated as he worked out how to articulate what he had to say, the explanation suddenly uncertain in his own mind, “Something like that, ma chérie. We are going to have to play a game of pretend, at least for a while.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ryan scratched his neck, “Well, we have to hide from some bad people who don’t like us very much. It’s a little complicated, but soon, well, soon I’ll be a girl… just like you. 

The girl looked him up and down and frowned, “But you’re a boy?”

“I know, but I’ll look like a girl,” Ryan offered.

“Okay,” Béatrice allowed slowly. “So you’re going to be like my new mama?”

Ryan’s heart thumped, and his mouth felt dry. Somehow, saying the words felt like committing to something he was utterly unprepared for, “Well, yes, we’re going to pretend that I’m your mama. I know I can’t replace her or be anything like that, but we need to pretend, so we can stay safe. Do you understand?”

The girl thought for a moment, “Pretend?”

“We will use new names, and we will pretend to be a mama and a daughter. That way, the bad people don’t find us.”

“But not really?” Béatrice frowned. “So you won’t stay with me?”

“Oh no, I will,” Ryan insisted. “I promise that I will never leave you, ok? No matter what happens, we are together, ok, chére?” 

The girl seemed uncertain but nodded, “I think so.”

“It’s going to be confusing, I know, but it’s to help, I promise. I’m going to be here for you, all the time. You’re never going to be scared or lonely again. We’ll get away from the bad people, and we can work out what to do then, ok?”

“Okay,” Béatrice agreed more happily. “I like you, Riene.”

Ryan decided not to correct her this time. Smiling, he stood up before leaning down and kissing the girl on the forehead. “Be good for me and play for a little, ok, chérie?”

In the kitchen, Ryan found Francesca waiting by the sink, her expression soft and understanding. “It is good that she is so young. At her age, they adapt so much more easily.”

Ryan wiped tears from his eyes and smiled weakly, “I know that’s true, but I can’t help but wonder if I’m doing the right thing.”

Francesca handed him a glass of wine and softly stroked his cheek with her fingertips. “You know it yourself, this is not your first time on this particular path, mia cara.”

Ryan knew that she was right, even if admitting it was hard for him to do. His first time along this path had defined the start of his career with the Agency, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, Francesca’s idea was likely the only solution with a significant chance of success. His only fear was that it might coincide with the end of his career, too.

Sipping the wine, Ryan thought about the first time that he had walked this path with the woman beside him. Playing the role of Alessandra alone had never actually bothered him. He knew who he was and why he was doing it. He was serving his country, and he was helping to save lives; that was motivation enough. Now, though, that was a different matter entirely. Now, his safety and the safety of Béatrice relied upon his ability to bring a very damaged girl back from her long slumber.

Ryan’s biggest concern was whether he could overcome what damage lay entwined with Alessandra like vines that strangled a rose. The trauma, the horror that he had experienced in Saudi Arabia, had changed him, and putting Alessandra away had helped him to move forward. Alessandra had been his only shield against the nightmarish experience, and to pack her away almost meant that it had happened to another person. It hurt all the more because he had liked who he had become when he was her. The idea of returning to a version of the girl who had experienced so very much pain was terrifying. Could he last long enough to get them to safety?

“Look, Francesca, I can’t pretend that this is going to be easy for me,” Ryan admitted, licking his suddenly dry lips. “Please, go slowly with me? I don’t… I’m not sure I’m as resilient as I once was.”

Francesca frowned but held her tongue. Ryan knew that she was dying to ask him more about what had happened, but she had enough tact to know that it was a painful subject for him. “Ryan, I promise, I will not make a fool of you. We will work at a pace that is comfortable for you, and if you need to stop, we can.” 

“Don’t promise something you won’t be able to deliver,” Ryan chuckled darkly.

Francesca hesitated for a moment, as though considering something, before pulling Ryan into a hug. Rubbing his back, she brushed the hair out of his eyes and smiled kindly, “Get some sleep, bright and early tomorrow, we bring back the beautiful Alessandra.”

Ryan sighed and nodded, “Perhaps someone a little different this time. I’m going to have to be her for… a while.”

 

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