Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Kudos and BBC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Lucas hardly paid attention to anything around him as he stood by the double doors of the train.  He couldn’t allow himself to sit down. He just couldn’t.  Every nerve in his body was on fire, every alarm set as his mind threatened to take him back there again.  His fists clenched and unclenched as he fought the memories from rushing in, his face turning numb at the mere realization of the onslaught of memories about to happen.

Finally, he slipped weakly onto the nearest seat and leaned back, taking a deep breath.  He rubbed his face, stopping only to watch other people’s faces around him, but seeing nothing but disinterested blank stares into the space in front of them.  

Lucas could have driven back to the Grid with Jo and Nadia.  And he would have, had Lucas not seen the business card  that fell from Nadia’s coat pocket.  Gemini, it had read, and from the moment his eyes saw the card and read the words, Lucas knew then that he needed to be alone.  

Gemini had been the name of the club that Mikhael owned.  It had been the club where he’d found Alexa nine years earlier.  

Lucas gasped, his chest tightening as a vision flashed inside his head.  The flashback had threatened to consume him inside the car, right in front of Nadia and Jo, and he couldn’t afford anyone seeing him like this.  Lucas knew then that he had to get out of the car and get some fresh air.

He didn’t want them to see him break into a cold sweat, his lower lip trembling as he shut his eyes only to see the visions return to him once more, like they did at three in the morning, when he lay in bed trying to sleep a dreamless sleep.  

Lucas leaned forward, resting his head between his hands, not wanting anyone to see him as he fought back the tears.  His breath came in raggedly, and he forced himself to exhale through his mouth, long deep breaths that he knew would calm him down immediately.  

In a busy morning train, he didn’t care who saw him in such a state.  But in a car with a colleague and a witness, he could not risk them seeing him like this at all.  He didn’t know how long he sat there like that but as soon as Lucas heard the voice on the speaker announcing the next stop, he knew that more than ten minutes had already gone by - time that went by in what seemed like hours as the vision appeared before his eyes.

This time, the vision had taken him deep into Lushanka prison, during the first two days of his incarceration, where he had struggled to keep up his legend - Dimitri Ilyakov - intact, confident that he was safe, that there’d been a mistake.  

They came into Lucas’ cell on the third day and dragged him into a dark room, strapped him onto a a wooden plank and there, a woman began grilling him about Sugar Horse.  He begged them then.  He knew nothing.  His name was Dimitri Ilyakov and he was merely a contractor brought in from Ukraine.  He knew nothing.  

It was when they called him by his real name did Lucas finally realize that maybe this time, the game was up.  This time, they finally got him.  

Lucas North, they said.  We know who you are.  Your own boss told us your name and where to find you.  And the man you seek - Mikhael Lubienko - he is where you and your boss can ever find him at all.  He is dead.

And that was when Lucas knew, as they draped the cloth over his face and began pouring the water over it, water seeping into his nose as he screamed for help that would never come, that this time, he’d been betrayed.  

Only one man had known he was in Russia, he thought.  And that man had betrayed him. 

Lucas snapped back to the present and looked out the window, watching the walls outside the train whiz past him.  Since returning from Russia, nothing was ever a coincidence anymore, he thought, and the business card was one of them.  Even if it had not fallen from Nadia’s coat pocket, they would have discovered it the moment they’d get her into the Grid and into one of the interrogation rooms.

By then, he thought, they’d be too late.  Alexa would be long gone.  Or dead.

This way, Alexa was only less than ten minutes ahead of Lucas.  It was much better than giving her a full hour head start and losing her in the process.

He pulled out his phone but knew that there would no reception down in the Underground at all, not until he’d get up to the station.  Absently, his thumb rubbed the smooth face of the mobile phone as Lucas allowed his mind to finally go there, to the man who could have betrayed him.

“I need you to go back to Moscow, Lucas,” Harry said as Lucas entered his office.  

The statement took him by surprise and he found himself stopping, his hand still on the door knob, as if he were considering simply walking back out and pretending he hadn’t heard what he had just heard.

“What for?  We got Alexa back,” Lucas said in a controlled voice as he sat down on the chair facing Harry’s desk.  He was tired, having just returned from Russia less than a week earlier and having had to work at the Grid immediately.  

His wife, Elizabeta, had not been pleased at all by the length and suddenness of his ‘business trips’ as he had called them, and already the strain was showing early in their marriage.  Lucas loved her for her honesty, yet it was the one thing he could not give her, at least not yet.

Lucas swallowed nervously, and licked his lips as Harry pulled out some papers in front of him.  “I’ve received intelligence about the illegal sale of nuclear materials, and I need you to return to Russia to get the second part of the report.  Proof that certain exchanges exist.” 

“What kind of proof are we talking about?”

“Recordings, both video and audio,” Harry replied.  “We have transcripts from the recordings and some grainy photographs, but I need the source.  I want the intelligence to be solid when it’s presented to the JIC.”

“So how do I get this ... proof?”

“You’re flying to Russia to find Mikhael Lubienko,” Harry began as Lucas’ back straightened stiffly at the mention of the man’s name.  “I need you to find him again and get the tapes from him.”

Lucas stared at Harry, unable to believe what he’d just heard.  Mikhael was the last person Lucas had wanted to meet again, and if he could manage it, he would never have to run into him either.  “He’s the dirtiest, most dangerous FSB asset I’ve ever met, Harry.  I can’t believe you want to be involved with him and what he knows.”

Harry nodded.  “I understand what you’re trying to say, Lucas, but I’m going to have to ask you to go back there and track him down again.  You’re the only person who’s seen him since he started working for the FSB.”

“And what makes you think he’s going to work with me?” 

“Because I sent you,” Harry replied.  “He’ll know why when he sees you again.”

“And what am I looking for?” Lucas asked.

“It’s called Operation Nephthys,” Harry replied, handing Lucas a file folder.  “It involves the illegal sale of nuclear materials to countries outside of the Non Proliferation Treaty, assisted by one of our own.”

Lucas looked up at Harry, surprised.  He opened the folder and began to look through the pages.  He frowned.  “This report is censored, Harry” he said, referring to the blacked out words throughout the page.  “How do you expect me to do what I need to do if I don’t even get to know what’s going on?”

“Lucas, the only thing blackened out in that file report is the name of a high-ranking operative whose name I can’t as yet allow to be spoken of outside of this office,” Harry said.  “Not until I get the recordings from Mikhael.”

“This ‘one of our own’ is that high up in the ranks?”

Harry nodded.  “One of the highest positions.  That’s why I need to be careful.  There were whisperings when Mikhael was first revealed to be traitor that he’d been set up, that he’d discovered a mole deep inside the secret service and this was their way of getting back at him.  Destroy him so that he’d have no choice but sell himself to the FSB, which he did.  But whether what he discovered is true or not, I still need proof.”

Lucas frowned.  “Harry, this is the same man who tortured your own god daughter, who kidnapped her and sold her for sex again and again, and humiliated her.  How can you even trust a man like Mikhael Lubienko?  The man is traitor to the country, there is no denying that.  Whatever he did for the good of his country as far as I’m concerned, became nonexistent the moment he kidnapped a British national and held her against her will, raped her and sold her according to his mood.”

Lucas got up and began to pace angrily.  “He’s killed three of his own agents, Harry, and who knows how many more?  How can you even risk trusting him over some report he wrote hoping you’d give him some leniency for releasing your god daughter?”

Lucas was shaking.  He rubbed his jaw anxiously.  “You sent me to find Alexa alone, Harry, because you knew the JIC would never have sanctioned the search in the first place.  That’s why you and I came up with a bogus operation.  But it also meant that I was alone, that if I ever was caught, I was on my own.”  

Lucas stopped pacing, this time facing the wall, away from the windows where he knew many of the people working on the Grid had probably already bore witness to his outburst.  “It also means that this time, if I go and search for this...Nephthys, it’s more dangerous than just searching for an eighteen-year old girl.”

“That’s enough, Lucas,” Harry said angrily.  Harry kept his gaze firmly on Lucas’ blue-gray eyes.  He felt Lucas’ anger simmering just beneath the surface, saw the vein that throbbed just along his temple.  

“You have a point.  In fact, you’ve got a few.  And as much as I love Alexa and I hate what happened to her, I still have a responsibility to uphold and that is the overall safety and security of the British people.  If there is a high-level mole within the secret service, one who has been undermining our very own operations here and abroad, then that means that there’s more of them.  That means they are everywhere, even here in Section D.”  

Harry took a deep breath and gazed at Lucas.  “Trusting Mikhael Lubienko is a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Then you take it, Harry,” Lucas said abruptly.  “You go to Russia.  Not me.”

Harry said nothing as Lucas left the room and walked out of the Grid.  Lucas knew everyone had been watching him then, their eyes pinned on their chief operative grabbing his coat and leaving even though he’d just arrived a few minutes earlier.  

And for two hours, Lucas walked the streets of London, immersing himself in the sights, sounds and smells of the city he called home, knowing that such things had shaped him and made him what he was.  There was no denying it - Lucas loved London, and he loved the life he’d managed to build for himself and Elizabeta within it.  

But as he had sat in Harry’s office during that meeting, Lucas had felt a sliver of fear grip him, something that told him that maybe this time, there was a chance that he would not be returning.  It had been such an odd feeling that it took a moment for Lucas to shake it, not till after he stormed out of Harry’s office, wondering what had gotten over him to do such a thing.  

Fear was one of the most powerful weapons in a spook’s arsenal.  Without it, he’d never know what danger looked, smelled, or tasted like.  Fear was a warning signal from one’s brain, telling him to watch out when it was no longer safe and when to take precautions.  

Yet this time it was different and Lucas couldn’t put a finger on it.  The fear was more real this time, with a darker, more unknown edge to it.  Was he going to let fear to take over him?  He wondered.  

As he sat on a park bench watching children scamper about in a playground before him, their parents and caregivers hovering in the perimeter, lost in conversations with one another yet their watchful eyes ever on their charges, Lucas allowed himself to shut his eyes for a moment.

And as he did, Lucas found himself staring at a pair of Alexa’s sea-green eyes just a few weeks earlier when he had first discovered her in one of Mikhael’s lesser known clubs, telling him without words what dangerous waters he was in, where things weren’t what they seemed.    

In the end, Lucas returned to the Grid and sat in front of Harry again, and this time he said yes.  

It had been an easy decision in the end, for Lucas knew that Harry was right.  He could not let the fear of never returning to stop him from doing what he did best.  This was why he had entered the secret services, the same reason he was returning to Russia at such a time of political unrest.  

A high-level mole could spell disaster for everyone concerned, and all their operations were at risk.  If there were high-level moles, Harry was right to ask the question - how many more low-level ones could there by, already infiltrating through the ranks of the secret service, even within Section D?  

Lucas got off at the Seven Sisters station and made his way onto the main road as quickly as he could.  As soon as he got out of the Underground, he pulled out his phone and dialed the Grid.  Lucas couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d been in the area of northern London and he didn’t want to be going around in circles when he did not have the luxury of time.  

When Malcolm answered, Lucas heaved a sigh.  Malcolm was just the person he had wanted to speak to.

“I need you to help me with an address, Malcolm,” he said, and before Malcolm could say anything, Lucas rattled off the address.  “I’m just outside Seven Sisters station and I don’t have enough time.”

Lucas heard the sound of Malcolm’s fingers tap dancing on his computer keyboard in the background.  

“Where is Harry?” He asked.

“Harry stepped out,” Malcolm said before telling him where to find the address he’d just been given.  According to Malcolm, Genesis was only five blocks to the west of him.

Lucas thanked Malcolm but before he could hang up, he heard Ros‘ voice on the line.  “Lucas, where are you?  Is this about Nephthys?”

Lucas stopped walking.  He was right in front of an African-European hair salon which was flanked by a chicken wing eatery and a car alarm shop.  He turned to face the street, his eyes scanning the area around him.  Though he knew that Alexa was more than ten minutes ahead of him, he couldn’t stop himself from scanning the street around him for her face.

“Lucas,” Ros continued when Lucas did not say anything.  “Nephthys was tattooed on Alexa’s back so I do know what’s going on but you need to tell me what is happening with you and Alexa so I can help you.  That’s where she’s going, isn’t it?”

Without answering her question immediately, Lucas began walking again.  A woman with track marks all along her arms was making her way towards him but he quickened his pace and from the corner of his eyes, Lucas saw her stop and lean against a street corner, having given up on following him.  

“It’s a brothel, Ros.  It’s the same brothel Alexa discovered Nadia two years ago,” he said, remembering the name Gemini from Alexa’s file a few days earlier.  “If Nephthys is in there, then that means that everything - even Nadia being in London, Alexa helping her get her British citizenship - someone maneuvered everything to happen the way they did.  They could have been trying to get her to remember all that time.  It can’t be all just a coincidence.”

“Jo just called,” Ros said.  “She’s on her way in the Nadia as we speak.”

“Keep Nadia on the Grid and get as much information from her about Alexa and even Nathaniel.  She knows too much to just be some human trafficking victim according to Alexa’s file.”

“Nathaniel was photographed with a young woman that looks like Nadia three years ago,” Ros said, her attention drawn to a grainy photograph of an older man standing next to a petite blonde woman at a gathering that included a few heads of state that popped up on Malcolm’s computer screen.  For a few moments, Ros stared at the image on the screen.

Nathaniel had been right  under their very noses, Ros thought as she recognized the many familiar faces in the photograph.  It had been taken at a political party that included a British consul, which meant that Jools’ men most likely had been assigned to guard the consul himself. Could they have been aware of Nathaniel’s presence in the same room? 

She frowned.  It would have been impossible to have missed Nathaniel George in such a gathering - a man who was supposed to be dead walking and talking among the living.

In the background, Malcolm muttered something, and Ros turned to look at him, reading a piece of paper he thrust in front of her.  Someone’s listening, it read.

“Lucas,” Ros said carefully.  “We have a little rat problem right now.  Be very careful.”

The realization of Ros’ words hit him like a kick to the gut and he cursed.  He hung up the phone and began running, following Malcolm’s directions.  

Rat problem.  Just another way of saying that the line had been bugged.  

A few nights ago, Alexa had told him that there were moles everywhere, even inside Thames House.  At first he had refused to believe her for what did she know?  She was only a young woman with no knowledge of the goings-on inside Thames House, inside the Grid or Section D for that matter.  

Yet all that had changed in a matter of hours, Lucas thought as he sped his pace along the teeming streets of southern London, thinning now as he approached a street lined with houses.  By calling the Grid, he’d inadvertently led whoever had bugged the lines straight to Alexa.  

Shit, he cursed again, turning a corner and knowing that he had two more blocks to go.  What have I done?

>>><<<

Even at midmorning, the brothel never slept.  Men came and went, as they always did, and the music blared from the cheap speakers perched along the walls of the main room.  Two metal poles were situated on each end of the room, surrounded by a half-circle of burgundy velvet sofas.  

Three men lolled about on one of the sofas, their mouths hanging open as a young woman wearing only a sequined pair of thongs danced in front of them.  A cheap necklace hung around her neck, the fake stones glistening between her breasts as she moved to the music.  Her eyes looked half open, her pupils dilated from the hit she’d just had a few minutes earlier.  

She was flying, and she didn’t give a damn about the men ogling her.  

Another woman was dancing by the other pole, and a man was dancing with her, already drunk in midmorning.  He was supposed to be at some meeting, but he’d ditched that after his host had suggested