Circle of Vengeance and Fate
	-A Gunslinger Girl spin-off starring Michael Christiansen

Chapter 1: In Continuation...

There would be no mercy this time. 

If there were only one thing the man could not stand, it was a liar. A coward who chose to fight a losing battle than surrender his fate to someone else's will. 
Sure, the man could understand not giving up a valiant effort in search of the truth, or a noble cause. The greater good had no more fervent champion than himself. Events had unfolded in his life that had tested him, his resolve, and his heart. Rather than settle into a life of relative luxury, he had chosen to keep fighting the good fight, punishing those who hurt the weak. The job satisfaction was pretty good, overall, and it paid pretty well. 
But his enemy was a man who embraced evil. A man who had surrendered in the face of overwhelming opposition and then struck the one who had chosen to show mercy rather than unleash annihilation.
"Well... I can't honestly say I was surprised, I guess. Still... It's pretty bad form."
Michael Christiansen yanked the head of the man back by his hair, staring down at the pain-warped face as he chose his next move, a move that would have to encourage the rest of the gang to start talking.
"I didn't want a bloodbath. I just wanted to know where your victims are. Your life belongs to me and I was willing to return it to you in exchange for the information." 
Christiansen stepped past Emily Lanstrom, looking absolutely fatale in tight leather pants and matching black halter-top. The crimson-red lipstick on her pale face clashed violently with her jet-black dyed hair, giving her an almost ghostly appearance, and playing the part of a blood-craving Goth chick had let her infiltrate the gang. It was her idea and it had worked. She handed him the hilt of a survival knife, slipping the sheath from it as he pointed it towards the gang's leader.
"I hate liars, Miguel. One of my people is dead because of your lies." The hatred was boiling within him, though he had learned to contain and focus it, making it his strength rather than his weakness. "You won't answer questions, so I guess you aren't much use to me anymore. Emmy..."
Emily grabbed his head in both hands and squeezed tight, yanking it back. Christiansen stood to the side and drew the knife deeply across his throat, noting with amusement that some of the spraying blood was propelled by the escaping air onto the faces of the lesser gang members, only one blinking as they all stared at the event.
The choking gurgle was silenced momentarily as Michael's gloved hand reached into the slit and pulled the man's tongue out through it, the saliva helping the blood to flow faster down his light-colored shirt. The watching eyes went wide and stayed there until the twitching of the body ceased minutes later, but Michael knew he would have to do one more thing to break them for good.
Another flick of the knife sliced open the abdomen and he pulled out a coil of intestines, draping it up and over the head and around the neck, like a scarf.
"There.... That should keep him warm for the night."
One of the captives began vomiting, the sight and fear evidently too much for him. Christiansen stepped to him and wiped the blood from his hands on the man's face, sure the smell and warm feel would cement the disturbing scene in his memory.
"Now," he spoke as he gazed at the others. "The merchandise. Where are they? A lack of answer will demand more blood to be spilled." He caught the eyes of the lone woman among the group and he smiled wickedly for her. "I think you'll be next. I've never cut someone's tits off before. I'd imagine it's pretty painful."
"ALRIGHT!!" Her scream signaled the beginning of her emotional breakdown; her tears of fear pouring uncontrollably now, though he wasn't entirely sure whether it was the threat or her own conscience causing it. Maybe she'd had enough of helping them. "They're in the basement, in a room hidden behind the broken water-heater. Turn the drain valve at the bottom."
It was the truth, he could see in her eyes, and he nodded to Emily to follow him, letting the others in their team cover the now-cowed gang. He paused momentarily next to the woman and leaned close, smiling softly. "If you're lying, or they're already dead... I'm going to show you what your cervix looks like.
The woman's eyes went wide again and she shook her head, telling him that she wasn't lying. That was all he needed to see.

The stale, musty air in the hall was a relief from the blood-soaked atmosphere of the interrogation room and they both paused, calming down after the distasteful flavor left in their mouths.
"Michael... How many more?"
She meant the number of lives they needed to save or avenge before he would feel it to be a cause to shut down the shop. It wasn't as if he relished slaughtering humans like he was, but sometimes it was necessary to achieve their goal. The sick bastards who kidnapped and tortured people for profit needed to see someone even more twisted working on one of their own before things would change. Fortunately he was a man of principle more than of morality.
"I don't know."
“That’s not an answer you should be living with.” Her rebuke was for his sake. Emmy had changed in the past two years, and while they had become closer when together, she had become cold and calculating when in action. Still, she retained the moral fire that held him in place and made him think about what was a step too far. Throughout every filthy thing he had done to the scum he’d encountered, he had never stepped so far over the line as to betray her faith in his humanity. 
Emmy’s eyes caught his when he looked up and he felt just how close he had just stepped to the edge. “I guess the threat to cut her up was a bit much, huh?”
“Maybe.” She started walking towards the basement stairs, gently placing her hand on his arm for support. “It certainly did the trick. Though I can’t help but wonder if you would have followed through.”
“After seeing Sean go down like that? Yes. I think I would have, Emily. Now... I don’t think I could stomach it.” His sub-machine gun came up and led the way down into the depths.
“And if these kids are dead?”
Michael’s eyes flashed hatred for a moment, betraying him to Emmy’s watching eyes. 
“I’ll get medieval on their ass.”
Emmy kept her next comment to herself though she did not really know whether it was how she truly felt about the matter. Her heart loved Michael Christiansen, which was why she was following him on his Crusade against the evil he perceived, but even she could only go so far. They were both different people from the glory days in Prague with Tanya and Gunter and the others. He had changed a lot in his time in Italy, witnessed the deaths of two women he loved with all his heart, and yet still found some strength to love her with the same fervor. 
The room was exactly as the woman had said, and inside were the faces of six children, ranging from five to sixteen years in age and displaying a range of emotions. The oldest one was nearly catatonic, her face betraying hopeless resignation to her fate. The youngest was just plain frightened, but maybe he had not been there long enough to develop the true fear.
Emmy watched Michael’s eyes as he stepped towards the older girl and cut her bonds with his knife, her body flinching in fear, her eyes showing just how much she had endured. His hand reached out to touch the bruised face, his fingers gently brushing the brown hair from the girl’s forehead, and the girl saw the pained expression on his face, locking in a trust in him from deep within her soul’s instincts. 
“It’s okay now. We’re here to help you get out of here.”
Michael’s Dutch was almost perfect now, as was his French, which he used to repeat the words loudly enough that the others could hear. Their eyes locked onto him with hope, the kind of hope that can only be entrusted by someone who had seen Hell with their own eyes and were seeking deliverance from it.
The other members of his team entered the room, taking things slowly to avoid startling their new charges and treating the obvious wounds as best they could. He had a good team and all of them believed in the cause, and this was a moment that they lived for.
“Michael,” Johnson’s voice came over his radio, interrupting the warmth Michael realized he had been basking in. “Police are on the way. Call it five minutes. Maybe a touch more.”
“Copy that. Begin the evac.”
“ I copy.”
Michael picked up the girl he had helped, stunned at her lack of weight. His strong arms supported her reassuringly and she held onto his neck, crying softly at her deliverance from the evil she had experienced. It was the most human moment he had felt in months, and his eyes began to water in spite of his attempts to hold it in.
Emily led the group up the stairs and into the hallway leading towards the building’s parking lot, but kept catching glances of Michael, each one further confirming in her heart that Michael was indeed a just man. He was probably the most human man that had ever existed, and she loved him.

Michael’s team had left on the helo, leaving him to deal with the last bit of cleanup that the police arrival was denying the group. It was his call to make and he could not let the others share his fate with the police. 
The gang was still tied up in the small room struggling to get free, but all froze in fear when he entered, his face impassive and unreadable.
“The police will be here in a moment, so I’m going to leave you to them, but I want you all to promise me you’ll give up your wicked ways.”
The heads nodded, nearly in unison, and he was sure most of them probably would. But he really couldn’t take the chance.
The Smith&Wesson M&P40 came up and fired seven rounds, one shot each into their skulls, making a mess of the wall behind them. The gun returned to its holster under his jacket and he picked up the brass casings, finally checking for footprints on his way out. His team had been perfect in not leaving any noticeable traces and he was glad for that, as it would deny the police any evidence they could use, as if they were interested. 
The sirens and lights were waiting for him outside but he ignored them, instead appreciating the starlit night and the crisp breeze that carried the scent of autumn with it. It was a wonderful scent, one that reminded him of his youth in Erie, playing in the piles of leaves until the night closed in.
He stepped past a police detective, the lead for the cases involving the mass-murders of gang members that had been occurring lately, and held up his right hand with five fingers, then four- the body count and an indication of just how much money was going to be in an unmarked envelope taped under a restaurant booth. The detective nodded in turn and began directing his people into the building to conduct their “investigation”, giving one last glance at the man whom he only knew as “Michael.” 
The responding officers were all in on the game and would be paid well for their part in the deception to come, though it was not all that difficult. Make up a bit of evidence, round up the “usual suspects”, and eventually chalk the whole thing up to gang-related politics. It was easier than trying to develop a case against Michael, who by any standard was doing a public service to the Netherlands, and were his actions to come to light, would only break faith in the legal system. There were corrupt officials in the police and government who were well paid by the human trafficking groups, and thereby covered for them by holding the hands of police who believed in justice.
It was during a bout of quiet depression regarding such cases that the inspector was approached by Michael, who claimed to know how to deal with that kind of filth, and would be willing to do so in the worst way for a small price. The inspector was not sure he had heard right at first; pausing for nearly a full minute to search the man’s face for some traces of a joke, but found none. The man was serious, deadly so, and his eyes showed exactly what he was capable of.  It took another meeting in a coffee shop, this time after Michael had eliminated a local trafficker and the victim turned up alive at a hospital, for the inspector to begin to believe that there was another solution to the problem, one better and more just than simply looking the other way and spinning wheels. 
“Inspector! There are nine bodies, seven of which were executed, one tortured.”
“I see...” Inspector Peters lit a cigarette, an American Marlboro, and took a long drag, seemingly in thought. “Call the coroner and round up the usual suspects. I hear the Spanish gangs have been acting up lately, and this could be a move on the local market. Remind me to look into it later.”
“Yes, sir.”
The officer moved off smartly and with something of a spring in his step. The lack of any victims being found meant that Michael had taken them out, and they would soon be in their families’ loving hands. These were things to be celebrated, but quietly so as to protect the good faith between savior and his protector. 
Whatever the reasons for this Michael’s actions against the traffickers, he was doing God’s work and doing it well. Abductions were down significantly in the past eighteen months, something he had heard the foreign consulates breathing a sigh of relief about. He had taken a big chunk of the cancer from the inspector’s beloved city, and he could only hope to move up in the ranks so he could start taking a few bites of it for himself from the operations end. That would feel very soothing to his pained soul.
He and Michael were of the same mind, and that’s why he had to protect his mysterious friend as best he could.

The younger children were asleep, but the sixteen year-old was still in a shock of fear and relief, something Emily suspected would take a shrink to fix. PTSD was serious business, especially for a child, and even though it hurt her heart, she could only try to tend to the girl’s basic needs. She wasn’t skilled enough to tend to the mind. 
The girl was silent, sitting on the couch, dressed in pajamas, and slowly sipping the tea Michael had given her. He was watching her with his open mind, reading everything he could about her before starting a discussion, and her brown hair and blue eyes put a pained aura around him, but he was strong enough to know in his heart and mind that this girl was not Jamie. She was just another unlucky soul that he’d had the strength to save.
“You’re too young to suffer the indignities you have. I’m sorry that I could not save you sooner.” 
The girl looked up at the man who was speaking to her in perfect French, her interest sparked a little by the fact that he had been speaking English and Dutch previously.
“When you’re feeling well enough, we’ll talk more. We need to find your parents so you can go home.” He received a slight nod in response and he was patient enough to let her come to him for the rest. 
Michael’s coffee was almost cold from how long he had neglected it, but the lack of taste was more from his own loss of the evening, and the serious task he was duty-bound to suffer through. By the time the mug was drained, he’d managed to find the words and form them into the right phrase. It wouldn’t dampen the blow, but at least he’d be sincere.
“It’s time, Emmy.” He stood and stepped to her, accepting a comforting hug for strength.
“Be gentle with her Michael. It’s going to hurt her. You’re probably the only person here who can relate, though, and I know she’ll understand that.”
“I know. It’s my duty to them both.”
In another moment he was gone, leaving Emily with the young woman who finally felt relaxed enough to speak. Her blue eyes showed a moment of abandonment, perhaps because her savior had just left.
“Where did he go?”
“One of our friends was killed fighting the people who had hurt you. Michael went to inform his wife. She’s just getting off of her night job and will probably be home in a few minutes. It’s going to hit her pretty hard. I really should be there as well.”
“But you need to stay with me?” Emily could see the girl’s mind click into believing it was her fault.
“He died in the effort to save you and the others, and to treat you as a component of the event rather than the goal would be to cheapen his sacrifice. He believed in what we were doing, the saving of innocent kids from evil, and he died knowing we had made a huge difference in the grand scheme of things. Protecting you right now so that you can go home is my duty to him as well as to yourself.”
“I see.” Emmy could see that she understood, even if she could barely believe it to be true. Her recent life was one of suffering and losing faith in humanity, and it would take a lot of time to restore that faith. “I hope she- “ 
The words were lost in the middle of the thought. Really, what could someone say they hope the person feels? Losing someone so close...

Silence had resumed immediately after the conversation. The girl had fallen asleep, the first time she had not cried herself so in as long as she could remember, and the sun was just beginning to show through the windows when a closing door snapped her awake, her mind immediately becoming alert in response to the fear she felt. Several moments passed as she got her bearings and remembered that she was no longer in the Hell she’d suffered in for weeks.
In the dim light she saw the man, Michael, leaning against the door, holding tight to Emily as tears slowly dripped from his cheeks and glinted in the morning sun. 
“She’ll make it, Emmy. It’s going to take time.”
“I’ll talk to her today after she’s calmed down. Is someone there with her?”
“Yeah. I left Rick there with her.”
“Good. Good. Rick’s is someone she trusts.” Emily noticed that the girl was awake and nodded to Michael, slipping from his arms. “I’ll make something to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry by now.”
Michael nodded and moved to the couch to sit down, smiling weakly for the girl he’d rescued. “Yeah. If I’m going to be up another eighteen hours, I might as well start the day.”
“What happened?” The girl’s voice was beautiful and melodic, like a singer’s, and it made Michael feel a bit more comfortable around her since the fear had faded.
“Our friend Katherine took it pretty hard. It’s the second husband she’s lost in six years, so you can imagine the pain she feels.”
“I-“ There was that lack of words again. You can’t hope for anything but to turn back the clock and make sure it never happens. But that is impossible. “I’m sorry.”
The girl was confused by the soft smile on Michael’s face. Even in her young heart she understood that the man had been through things that would destroy the average person, and his conditioned response to it all was to simply smile, knowing things would be what they would become. His smile was because he knew he could control or otherwise affect the outcome of terrible events, and that he was called to do so.
“You’ve been through so much...”
Michael could read the sadness in the girl’s eyes and the maturity it reflected reminded him of Jamie, a young woman who was so much more than her simple beauty led on. 
“I was once asked why I was doing what I am doing. Why I am so determined to save the lost. Would you like to know?” He wasn’t sure if someone of such a young age could handle the truth but after what she had been through, it would simply be giving a name to the cold and faceless reality of society.
She never hesitated in her answer, “yes.”
Their eyes met and he allowed the full weight of his burden fall into his words.
“Because no one else will. The police are too afraid of the gangs or otherwise on the take. Interpol and their like are unable to muster the resources to met out the appropriate response, not to mention being hobbled by politics. The average person out there doesn’t even know there is a problem until their own child goes missing. There is no justice to be had by the lost or their families. Society has given up on real justice and replaced it with rules and procedure that are supposedly fair and punish the wicked adequately, but everyone knows it’s a lie, and the wicked continue their ways after a slap on the wrist. I believe people are worth an all or nothing approach. If they’re lost, you hold nothing back in finding them. If they do evil, you hold nothing back in dealing with them appropriately, in ways that not only they understand, but those who would do similar evil. But this society doesn’t allow for that with its bleeding-heart philosophy and cowardly approach to justice. If I hadn’t stepped up and broken all the rules of society to save you, you’d spend the rest of your short life in a hell that society created and then turned its back on.”
There. He could see the impact of the truth land inside her head and worm its way around her understanding of the world around her. It was the poison that turned a child to adult, no different than finding out their parents were the Santa Claus they had spent years believing in. Maturity in a New York Minute.
The girl wiped tears from her eyes and shook off the shiver of utter lonesomeness that had worked through her at the realization of what he was saying was true. Everyone was alone in the world, really, and friends and family were things that helped deal with it, but never really drove it away. Everyone was for themselves and those closest to them, and if it weren’t for the kindness of a man and his conscience, she’d have been doomed.
“Thank you, Michael. I’ll never be able to repay it, but I hope you understand how much I mean it.”
“I know you mean it.” He smiled for her and sipped his coffee, feeling the worst part of his evening’s mood slip away. “Although if you really feel you need to thank me, I’d like to know your name.”
She smiled. It was the first real sign that maybe she would be all right. “Alexandria. My name is Alexandria Gravois. My parents are Jean-Paul and Guenièvre Gravois, of Marseilles. My father is in the insurance industry, and my mother writes for magazines from home.”
“I’ve been to Marseilles, it’s a great place, especially in the summer.”
“It’s okay.” The girl brushed off the compliment in typical teenager fashion. “We were in Amsterdam for a week for my father’s work, and my mother and I were enjoying some shopping. We stayed at a hotel and one night I decided to take an evening walk by the clothing shops, not even a block away.”
The memory was starting to affect her, a look of guilt and regret joining the tears in her eyes as she continued the tale. 
“It was still daylight, only about eight in the evening. I stopped to look at a dress in a window and two men bumped into me, and then I felt dizzy.” She was trying to remember details that were fuzzy and her face showed the concentration she was putting forth. “I started walking towards the hotel and then I think I fell. The next thing I remember is being kicked awake in a damp room. That’s when they... That’s when I started to wish I was dead.”
Alexandria sipped the tea Emmy set on the table, focusing on her thoughts in order to set the memory back where it wouldn’t hurt her as much. Michael could see her pain, could feel it in his heart, and knew that talking about it would take considerable time and patience. 
“They drugged you, injecting it in the supposedly innocent contact on the street. They saw an easy mark and attacked. There was nothing you could have done.”
“I should have stayed inside where it was safe, like my father said. What happened to me was my own fault.”
 “If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else. It doesn’t excuse the evil that attacked you. You’re a victim, not to blame, and if there is one thing I know it’s that it takes bad people to make bad things happen. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe that was avoidable, but if everyone stayed inside to avoid the danger, no one would do much of anything.”
She thought about that for a moment, finally nodding slightly at Michael’s wisdom and settling back into her chair. The food was in front of them in another minute and the girl started eating immediately, evidently feeling her appetite return from the land of lost emotion.
Emmy sat down and sipped her coffee, fighting the same fatigue Michael was doing so well against. “Now that we know something about you, it shouldn’t be too hard to find your parents. They’ve probably gone back to Marseilles since the police have long since given up on you here. Most of the other children seem to be Dutch, so we can find theirs pretty fast. You might want to call the Inspector in to help with Alexandria’s, Michael.”
“I’m meeting with him again this evening for his payment, so I’ll pass it along. She can stay here until we can take her back to France.”
A knock on the door officially started the day as the team members arrived to start processing the children, all of them in a somber mood from the worst of the night’s events but finding their own strength in the task ahead of them, knowing that the satisfaction would be worth the price paid in blood.
For Michael, the day would be a quiet lead-in for the hailstorm to come. 

The street was busy as usual for the evening hours, but Michael’s senses were on high alert, his eyes constantly scanning for a familiar face he might want to avoid, or an unfamiliar one that seemed a bit too interested in his. He’d let his field-craft slip a bit in the past year but felt compelled to put it back into practice tonight, driven by some subconscious reason he could only guess at. 
The canals were pleasantly lit, a sight he took in every night with a memory of his time in Venice, a bit of nostalgia he did not want to forget. Through the terrors of that night’s action, he’d connected with Jamie in the way he’d needed to in order for them both to be successful. Beyond that were her feelings for him, another thing he could never want to forget.
He stopped suddenly and spun around, glaring at the crowd and quickly searching it for the eyes he felt to be on him. His instincts were correct, he was sure, and someone was tailing him. His sudden turn should have allowed him to catch them in the act given the fewer number of people on this stretch of sidewalk, but whoever it was had moved quickly enough to cover their act. They were pros.
“Shit...”
Michael continued on his way and led a more roundabout path to his destination, taking two more turns after he’d felt like the eyes had lost him. As much as he had to be protected by the Inspector, he also had a responsibility to protect the man who was helping him. He was twenty minutes late for his meeting, but the Inspector was still there, seated in a booth in the darkest corner of the cafe, his eyes glancing up at the door with every new patron’s entrance.
“You’re late.”
Michael nodded and settled into the seat with the coffee he’d ordered at the counter as cover for his counter-surveillance sweep. “I had a tail coming down Rokin. I took a wider path to shake them.”
The news seemed to shake the Inspector a little. “Any idea who they were?”
“No. They were pretty good though. They’re at least as good as a new CIA operative. Got the knowledge but not the experience, you know?”
“That’s concerning. I’ve had word that someone has been asking questions about your ‘works’ without going though me. I’ve also felt like someone has been watching me.”
Michael knew things were getting hairy, but this was enough to make him change his operation considerably. “Okay... this is the final meeting here.” He scribbled a phone number on a paper napkin and slid it to the man. “My new contact number. Add one to the third and two to the fifth. I’ll find a new meeting place. In the meantime, I need you to look up the parents’ information on this girl.”
The inspector read the few lines of information on the paper and memorized it, burning the small slip in the ashtray after he lit his cigarette with a match. “It should not be too difficult.”
“I didn’t think it would be. There’s a bit extra in the payment this week. Stash it someplace easy to get to in case you need to skip town in a hurry with the family.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“I know what it takes to keep my informants safe. You’ve been extremely helpful in taking care of the abduction problem here. You should demand a raise.”
Peters took the last drag from his cigarette and stubbed it out, chuckling a bit at the idea of laying out his (arguable) crimes in the better service of his country to his superiors. “I don’t think they would be too happy about it, really. I’m sure the authorities in your country take a dim view on vigilantism as well.”
“Texas would be hard pressed to find someone willing to hang me, but yeah, generally you’re right. Taking care of business the direct way makes the cops look bad.” Michael smiled and finished his coffee, dropping a large bill on the table to cover both their orders, as well as leaving an envelope on the seat where he had sat. “I’ll be in touch, Inspector.”
“Be safe, friend.”
The inspector tucked the envelope in his jacket and left a few minutes after Michael, his mind already planning ahead on some new procedures and meeting places. He didn’t want to lose the one man in Europe who wasn’t afraid to do something that everyone else was afraid to.

The streets were just as busy in spite of the late hour, so much so that Michael’s ‘radar’ was simply unable to spot anyone that might be tailing him. His track through the safer parts of the city meant that many others were also going the same way, and even after a few turns to shake or highlight possible tails, he’d end up seeing the faces of people he had already cleared two blocks before. The whole exercise was frustrating, but he had to accept that he really hadn’t accepted or adapted to the nightlife here. 
A set of eyes caught his attention, but it was only after several seconds that he’d realized it to be something out of the ordinary. By the time it filtered through his muddled senses, the eyes were gone, washed away in a sea of anonymous faces that constantly swirled around him. He continued on his way, making constant course changes to shake them loose, but he never saw them again, nor anything that resembled a tail. 
Emmy and Alexandria were asleep by the time Michael arrived back at the apartment, curled up together like sisters in the bed, so he loosened his clothes and settled onto the couch in the living room, turning his mind to the crowd he’d found himself in earlier and locking onto the eyes that had been watching him. His photographic memory had never failed him and had numerous times allowed him to recognize a face in similar circumstances, but this time all he saw was the eyes, sharp and cold, following his moves just long enough for his mind to catch onto the fact. There was no face, however, and he realized why after his mind really looked at the eyes closer. There was only one reason his trained mind did not see anything but the person’s eyes...
The eyes struck fear into his heart.

The other children had all been claimed by grateful parents and family, something Michael normally did not miss, as the joyous looks and warmth were part of the fuel that kept his focus on the objective where it belonged. This time he chose to stay in the apartment with Alexandria, letting Emily handle the return details while he stayed behind to wait for the final victim’s information to come from the inspector. 
A part of him realized that he was actually hiding. Whatever mind and intentions had been behind those eyes two nights previous had sent his instincts into a fearful retreat, something he was fighting even as he sipped his coffee and arranged the details of Alexandria’s return to France. He really was scared, and that was the more curious part of it all. His deadly struggle against Ian Amherst and his small army had never given him a cause to really fear on this level. About the closest he had come was when Jamie had been staring him down in the basement outside of Paris, her bitter and murderous persona taking control of her body and daring him to kill her. 
He had felt fear then, but not like this.  This fear was bitter and tangible, as if someone filled the air with a fog of blood. The eyes had said very clearly that he was their target, he could not escape, and that he would die horribly under their gaze. 
“Shit...” 
Alexandria looked up from her book, curious as to what had made his mouth speak so coarsely. Her knowledge of English was limited but swearing is universally understood by its tone and body language. 
“Is something wrong?”
The girl had a strong voice, Michael noticed, a good sign from someone who had been through what she had. Meekness wasn’t a trait of the strong-willed. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”
“Hmm.” 
He could tell she wasn’t buying it, but she did not push the matter at all. Thinking about her did help him slip away from the arms of the fear he felt, if only a little, so he put a bit more concentration into the trip to France. He hadn’t been there since the time with Jamie and the feelings from the moment after their dinner together flared up in his heart again, always warming at first, followed by the pain brought on by the next thoughts regarding his losing her. He was over her in the way that men have to move on, but he could never, ever, forget how he felt.
The phone started ringing, interrupting his pain and helping him to focus past the curious look the girl was giving him. She must have been watching his face as he reminisced and knew there was a story there. He wouldn’t have time to share it though.
“Yeah?”
“It’s me.” The inspector was calling from a payphone, if the traffic sounds behind him were any clue. “I have the information.”
“Okay. I’ll leave the meeting point on the south steps of the courthouse in an hour.”
The phone clicked dead and Michael started focusing on the next task at hand.
“Who was that?” Alexandria was certainly a curious one.
“My contact in the police. He’s the only one I trust to get information from inside the authorities. I have to go meet him.”
She jumped to her feet, perhaps a bit worried about his leaving. “Are you leaving me alone?”
“No. Emmy should be here in a few minutes. She and the others will watch over you until I get back.”
“I can’t go with you?”
He almost gave in to the pleading eyes. The only reason he did not was the knowledge that someone was after him and could strike at any time. “I’m sorry, no. It’s much safer if you stay here with Emmy. I’ll only be gone for an hour or so.”
“Oh.”
He watched her disappointment for a moment before heading to the bedroom to change. A light suit covered his Smith&Wesson well enough, a few extra magazines for it in the holders under his weak arm, and a folding knife in his belt. He was just exiting the room when Emily arrived with Rick and Sonya in tow, the petite Russian several times more deadly than her image let on. Her abilities in almost everything were on a par to Michael’s and if he loved Emmy and trusted her, then he had to admit Sonya was the only one he trusted to protect Emmy. 
“It was wonderful, Michael...” Sonya jumped on Michael’s back and hugged him, planting a playful kiss on his cheek, a kiss that was aimed at tweaking Emily just a little. Sonya believed Emily should be going after Michael more aggressively than she was and felt it her duty as a friend to force the matter. “The kids were so happy. I couldn’t find a dry eye in the room.”
“I’m sorry I missed it, but this one deserves to feel safe until she’s reunited with hers as well.”
Sonya smiled at Alexandria and offered her hand, her bubbly and excited nature certainly more child-like than the serious woman Michael knew her to be under real stress. “Nice to see you again! I’m Sof’ya Sergeyevna Grishenko. Call me Sonya since everyone else does.”
“Alexandria Gravois.”
“A pleasure! Michael?” Sonya spun around with a smile. “When are we leaving for France? I want to go this time. I haven’t been there since just after the Party was put against the wall.”
Her enthusiasm was lightening the still-somber mood after Sean’s death, something money or well wishing simply couldn’t buy. Things wouldn’t be the same without him, but there was comfort in the normal feelings and interactions of friends.
“I haven’t decided yet. I’m just about to head out to meet the contact so we’ll see when I get back.” He paused at the door, blinking with the sudden fear he felt as his hand touched the doorknob, but it was just as quickly shrugged off by his determination. He’d faced fear many times and this would be no different.
Michael gave a look back at the group with a smile, deciding to show them that he was as well as any of them. “Smoke me a kipper, I’ll be back for breakfast.”
That drew some smiles that lasted well after he closed the door behind him, though one person was a bit confused. Alexandria frowned, her youth showing in her remark.
“What’s a kipper?”