You wake up with a start, unsure of where you are.  Instinctively, you reach for the other side of the bed and feel disappointed because no one is there.

 

"He thinks you're dead."

 

It is pitch dark in the room, but you still search for the source of the voice. "Who's there?" you ask, your voice still sounding like her. "Goddamit."

 

"I get the feeling that you were hoping to sound like your old self." The voice is accented, and it's a man. Irish, you think. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't come back this time around."

 

You clear your voice. "I'll ask again, 'Who's there?'"  You listen for any sounds that may give away the source of the voice.

 

"I was warned that you were persistent. Let's just say I'm a friend who's here to help you."

 

You chuckle after his statement. "I've had all the help I'll ever need, friend."  You try to lift your arm to work out a kink you feel but the slight movement almost takes your breath away.

 

"He just left you there, Allison. As if you didn't matter at all to him."

 

Rolling your neck, you wince as you feel your bones pop. "Until you identify yourself, how 'bout we not discuss him?"

 

"Fair enough. Turn on the lights."

 

You hear something start up that sounds like a generator and suddenly you are swathed in fluorescent lights.  Blinking several times, you take in your surroundings.  The room is a stark white, and sparse in its decoration. To your right there is a large picture window that gives you a shaded view of the outside word. You frown at the man sitting in a large leather chair, a manila folder open in his lap.

 

"Sean Murphy. It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Doren."

 

"I'd say the same if I knew what the hell was going on."  Your eyes scan the expanse of the white room. You make note of the cameras in each corner, and the silhouette of a guard just outside of your door. The combination of the two convinces you that you aren't going anywhere anytime soon. Your body is still stiff and you need weigh all your options before attempting any sort of escape.

 

"Do you remember what happened to you? Anything at all?"

 

"I came back from the dead. It's a nasty habit of mine.  Or wasn't that in your report?"  You say the words with an edge that has sharpened as you spend more time as her.

 

The man chuckles and it irritates you to the point that you want to break his neck. "Always straight to the point, Allison.  Now that was in my report."

 

"What do you want?"  You turn in the bed and swing your legs out.  Your left foot touches the floor and its coldness is a shock to your system.

 

As if he was moving at the speed of light, the man is at your side helping you stand upright. You take a clear glance at him.  The first hints of silvery streaks lines his temple, a contrast to his almost black hair.  For some reason, you are assured that this is no boy helping you.  He smiles, the action not making him appear more or less amiable, but the glimmer of interest in his eyes unnerves you.  The interest you have no problem with—it's the not knowing where the interest lays that bugs you.

 

"Be careful, it's been more than a month since you've been on your feet."  He places your hand around your waist and leads you to the chair where he was sitting a few moments ago. "Is that better?"

 

"It is. Thank you."  You look back at the man as you are settling into the leather chair. That interest you saw in his eyes has appeared again and he looks almost eager. And then you question why you're even thanking this man.  "A month," you wonder aloud. Has it really been that long?

 

"Yes, it's been a month since my team found you in Gratz.  If we hadn't received intel about your—your abilities, we would've left you.  You were the only one left, really."

 

His hazel eyes seem to calm you, but you don't know why. No one with eyes that entrancing should bring about any sense of peace.  You close your eyes briefly, seeing ice blues that are a cold reminder of exactly why you shouldn't trust anyone with nice eyes.  You dig your fingernails into your palm to bring yourself back to reality-to the pain that corresponds with every facet of your life.

 

"Do you need anything? Water? A bite to eat? Strong whiskey?"

 

You want to laugh but you've spent so long not that it feels odd.  Instead you do something in between. "Make it a double."

 

"You've got it.  Just so you're aware, Ms. Doren, there are sensors and cameras throughout this room and floor. Along with enough man power to keep you in here until I've had my say." 

 

"In other words, you're saying don't even try?"

 

He smiles, looking pleased and amused with your banter. "It would be wise not to."

 

With that, Sean Murphy makes his way out of the room and you can see the guard following behind him.  Within moments of his departure, you start to feel alone again.

 

"Goddamit, Julian," you growl underneath your breath. You hate and love him in the same breath. He just left you there, Allison. As if you didn't matter to him at all.  Funny how seriously you take Sean's statement. You vaguely remember seeing Julian bend over you and touch your face in a way that always made you smile.  Memories of the night you died for a third time come back to you. You remember the way you taunted Will Tippin, even though there had been nights were you'd still remember how it felt to be in his arms-safe, loved, without pretense.  You hate him for stabbing you, but in some ways you understand.

 

You are lost in your thoughts when you hear Sean enter your room again. You look for the silhouette of the guard and see no one at the door.  He hands you a glass of the amber liquid, and you consider it for a moment.  Drugging is possible, of course.  Even likely in your line of work. But you just don't see where it would do him any good, and the thought of a shot of good liquor is worth the risk.  You shrug, shift your grip on the whiskey, and slam it back. 

 

"Feel better?" He asks.  You look up at him and you see that damned interest again.

 

"Not particularly.  Why didn't you leave me in Gratz?"

 

He takes the glass from you and leans against the metal footboard. "Because, Allison, you are still a viable operative."

 

"Who should've died three years ago.  Save the speech, Mr. Murph—"

 

"Please call me Sean," he says, cutting you off. He smiles again and you recognize what he's doing. The bastard is trying to charm you. 

 

"Mr. Murphy, I should be dead. Period.  Playing with God sort of damns you to an existence like mine."

 

"What kind of existence is that, pray tell?"

 

A sigh leaves you and you turn away from him.  It was of your own doing that you underwent the procedure that changed you, but it was the Covenant's doing that brought you back from the dead.  In hindsight, you wished you had been well enough to tell them not to bother. "Why did you bring me back?"

 

"Would you have preferred it if I'd left you to die like some dirty bum in the street?"

 

You look at him again and shake your head at his seemingly innocent smile.  It's cautious as if he's trying to read you. "No, of course not."

 

"Good. I have meeting I need to attend, so why don't you shower, get dressed, and we'll grab a bite to eat.  After that, we'll take a walk around the grounds. I'm sure you still have a lot of questions."

 

"I do, Mr. Murphy. I do."

 

"I hope that I can answer them, Allison.  See you in a few hours, then?"

 

You nod and he seems satisfied with your demeanor as he offers another brief smile, turns and makes his way out of your room. Seconds later you sigh, as the shadow of the guard reappears in front of your door.

 

#

 

You stand in front of large picture window in your room watching the bright blue sea. Tiny white houses dot the seashore and you make note of all the boats in the ocean. The sun is bright and it warms your skin. There are no noticeable latches on the window - another dead end - and you see your options for escape dwindling to almost nil.

 

"It's a lovely sight. One of my favorites."  You turn and Sean Murphy is standing in the doorway changed from his earlier attire of a dark suit to tan khakis and white shirt.

 

"I'm going to take a guess and say that we're in Greece?" You ask and hate the excitement in your voice. You'd never been to Greece and it was one of the places you'd wanted to go before your change.

 

"Cyprus to be exact.  I wanted to apologize for missing lunch with you earlier. Did you find everything to your liking?"

 

"It's okay, but why are you being so polite to me?"

 

You watch as a true smile flitters across his face, his amusement with your honest question starting is pissing you off. You've been a pawn for almost your entire life, sometimes even treated as a robot without any emotion so to speak. His ridicule is not amusing, and you feel your hand clench into a tight fist.

 

He must notice the shift in your energy, for he holds out his hands in surrender. "The last thing I want to do is patronize you, Allison. It's just that "polite" isn't a word that is used to describe me very often."

 

"So what word is used to describe you, Mr. Murphy?"

 

"I'm an asshole actually.  Any one of my men will tell you that." He winks at you, and for an unknown reason, you can't keep your laughter inside.

 

"That's better. I was beginning to think you were incapable of laughter."

 

"I am," you say jokingly. "It's been so long since I have laughed like that."

 

A heavy sigh leaves your body before you suppress it, and you hear Sean clear his throat.

 

"You know, we share a certain sentiment towards blondes."

 

"What's that?" you reply, instantly thinking of the way that Sark left you in that hallway in Gratz. "Utter revulsion?"

 

He laughs for a short minute, but then shakes the joviality off. "Close. Very close."

 

He glances at you sideways, a bit uncomfortable. Imagine that. "Let’s just say someone I know was left in a position tantamount to yours by a person they also trusted, and maybe even cared about—to a certain extent. You ready for that walk?"

 

You sit down on the bed, and cross your legs.  "Not until you tell me what you're getting at."  He has your complete attention now, the feelings you have about being left alone, on the brink of death.  "Bastard," you mumble even though the saying is clichéd. 

 

"Betrayal, even at its mildest, burns hot," he replies with a hint of anger that you hadn't seen before.  He doesn't need you to agree with him. He already knows. "And anyone who willingly leaves a partner fubarred and unable to care for themselves deserves to get theirs."  His face clouds over with that same anger and for the first time since this whole disaster began with your life—you feel that someone understands.

 

A question pops in your head and you can't believe that you hadn’t asked before. "Are you Covenant?"

 

He looks genuinely shocked at your question. "Me? No. I may be a mercenary but even I wouldn't deal with them."

 

"You're aware that I used to work for them?"

 

"Betrayal doesn't just come from the ones we love, Allison. Would you like to go for that walk now?"

 

"What do you want from me, Mr. Murphy?" You ask with a tilt of your head. 

 

"For now, just a companion on my afternoon walk.  You still have a bit of healing to do before we begin to discuss anything else." What he doesn't say, but what you understand anyway, is that you also have a bit of healing to do before you're in any shape to run anywhere, if running is what you intend to do.  You can feel it in yourself - a kind of faded strength that promises this walk is going to be a short one anyway.  Considering Sean dryly, you acknowledge to yourself that at this particular point in time, he's holding all the cards.  And besides, it's not like you have anywhere pressing to be.  You're dead, for the love of God.

 

You pick up the sun hat on the bed and follow him outside.

 

#

 

The late afternoon sun hits your body in a hot flush when you step outdoors. He places your hand in the crook of his arm, like a true gentleman, and leads you down the front steps. You look around for your enemies, a habit that after dying three times seems both laughable and warranted. He must feel a change in the tension of your fingers for he covers the hand on his arm with his other one.

 

"You're safe here, I promise."

 

Safe?  You haven't heard that word since you were eight years old when they took you away.

 

As you begin your walk, you try to be inconspicuous while admiring the contrast of smooth and rough on his face, but are almost afraid that he knows exactly what you're doing. Even if you're still tense having all these watchful eyes - armed, watchful eyes at that - watching you as you stroll toward the water, there's a part of you that is relaxing. You know that if he wanted you dead, he would have either left you in the hall or had gone through with it by now. He seems like that sort of man.

His face is a refreshing mix of handsome, manly, confidence without that horrible arrogance. He's a conundrum. One that you find yourself curious about - what drives him, what makes him tick? It's funny that you're looking at him in that way when you wanted to break his neck several hours earlier. Must be an after effect from being laid out for so long. Or the fact that he won't try to kill you until after he tells you what he wants.

"Or the ocean air."

"I'm sorry?" he asks and you're unaware that you spoke that out loud.

 

"Nothing.  It's been a long time since—I'm doing it again," you say, with a side-glance at him.

 

"Doing what, Allison?"

 

"Saying 'It’s been a long time,'" you answer, hopefully covering your embarrassment at speaking out loud.

 

"When's the last time that you've actually relaxed?  Just sat back and read a good book?  Hold on to my arm while we step down this path."

 

You're silent as Sean helps you over a small rock formation. You can barely remember the last time you've relaxed or even read a book.  Your life has as long as you remembered has always been about the mission.  For a brief few moments when you were living as Francie you were able to do just that.  Relax.

 

"It's been awhile, Mr. Murphy."

 

"So, with that being said, I don't think saying that "It's been a long time" is such a bad thing. It has been a long time." He winks at you again and you smile back at him.

 

"Here we are," he says, and you come to an edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean. "This is another one of my favorite spots on the compound. A person could get lost in their thoughts out here."

 

You sit in silence with him as you both watch the fishing boats move along the calm surface.  You inhale and the brisk ocean breeze soothes you.  There are questions screaming in your head as you take another sidelong glance at him.

 

"Mr. Murphy, I have a question for you."

 

"And I'll answer it but only if you fill one request for me."

 

And here we go. "What is it?"

 

"For the love of God, please call me Sean instead of Mr. Murphy.  You aren't one of my men. Alright?"  By the look of amusement in his face, you must look shocked. "What did you expect me to request?"

 

You shake your head at the thoughts in your head. "Nothing like that, Mr. Murp—Sean. Who was the blonde that you were talking about earlier?"

 

The smile on his face freezes and he turns to look back out at the ocean. "When you worked with the Covenant, did you ever meet or hear of someone named Lauren Reed?"

 

"Should I know of her? Who is she?"

 

"She's the woman currently keeping the company of Julian Sark and she's my former partner." 

 

The moment the words leave his lips, you feel your heart stop.  You were cold to him, and you'd be the first to admit it.  You had to be. You were ordered to by the Covenant. However, he left you—left you like you were nothing in that hallway. You've only been "dead" a month and he's already gallivanting like—

 

"Allison?"  Sean looks over at you with concern etched on his weathered face. "Your hands."

 

Startled out of your thoughts, you look down at your hands.  You've balled them up so tight that the lighter tone of your knuckles is showing.  Quickly, you unfurl them and nod at him to continue.

 

"Several years ago, when she was living in London, Lauren contacted me for a job.  It paid well, and I was in the company of a beautiful woman. The job lasted for a few months, and we became close.  One thing led to another and we became involved.  The last job we did together, we went into Columbia for a weapons deal with a drug cartel.  I personally checked the bank account myself before we left London.  We make the exchange with the leader, and head back.  About a month later, I'm in Ireland meeting with other members of my team when the drug cartel appears on my doorstep. He's going on and on about being screwed over. 'Where's his fucking money?' "

 

"What happened?"  You ask, knowing the answer. It hasn't been that long that you forget how the Columbians react when their money is not where it's supposed to be.

 

Sean brings his hand to the bridge of his nose and rubs it slowly. "A war.  Heavy losses on both sides, and all I could think about is how this woman betrayed me.  When it was all said and done—I eventually paid the cartel off and have been working ever since."

 

You fall silent again as he finishes his story.  The anger and sadness in his voice is not lost to you.  In fact, it sounds all too familiar.  Immediately, your mind goes to Julian.  He wouldn't dare do that to you.

 

"You seem wary about this info."

 

"Well, sure. You just tell me that the man I've been with longer than I can remember cared so much about me that he took but a few months to move on? Sure, it all could be true. I mean, he did leave me for dead..."

 

"What is true and what we want to believe about those we're close to are two different things, no?"

 

Sean quiets your protests with that statement; however, you still refuse to believe it.

 

"Look, Allison, I have a contact, a friend in the States who specializes in watching those who are difficult to watch. I'd be more than happy to help by sending you his way so you can see what it is I mean. Things have changed... Julian's changed. And taken up with company that, unfortunately for him, is not so good. When you leave is up to you.  There's no pressure, but I think you need to see for yourself what is going on with your Julian and Lauren.  My telling you isn't going to change how you feel about him, but seeing it for yourself will."

 

You look down at your hands as silence falls between you two again. Julian wouldn't replace you like that and you feel that that's true in your heart.  But again, you're curious to see if Sean is telling you the truth. 

 

"When do I leave?"