Something He Can't Quite Remember

Old Friends

CARDIFF, WALES

As James followed Caesar, he scanned his surroundings. A cheap hotel, as expected. Shut down, though, the windows were boarded, and the reddish carpet was fraying. Where the hotel was exactly, James wasn't sure, but they hadn't travelled overseas, so they were somewhere in Britain. Which obviously only gave him a few thousand miles to be in. 

"You're moving me again," he stated. That was the only logical conclusion to come to, given the circumstances. 

"Well spotted, Mr Carter. I am, indeed, in the process of moving you, down this corridor," Caesar replied dryly. 

"Ha ha." James decided to change tack. "Okay, so where are we going?" 

"To see Zeus." 

"What the hell is it with the mythological codenames?" James asked incredulously. Caesar turned. "Ah. So, I guess you're going to have to change your names now that Hero's dead, huh?"

"Dead?" Caesar snapped, a flash of red anger crossing his pallid, grey features. 

"Oh, so your men in Paris didn't finish her off?" James said sarcastically, but actually desperate for her to be alright. 

Because it would be his fault if she was hurt, right? And her could trust her. 

"What men? To the extent of my knowledge, Miss Pierce is absolutely fine. She's somewhere in the Alps, I believe, heading south. Perhaps she felt the need for a little Mediterranean sunshine."

James sighed with relief, feeling a hundred times better and ready to face whatever 'Zeus' could throw at him. After all, he was one of the richest men on the planet under thirty. And you didn't make that kind of money without a few brain cells to rub together. 

And he also knew now that Caesar was nothing more than the middle man, the shade of grey, ironically. He might look like the orchestrator of events to the untrained eye, but James was far from untrained.

And he was remembering. 

LAGO DI COMO, ITALY

"Come on, Alec. I need you!" 

"No. I'm retired," replied the man, his voice dripping with his native Russian accent. Alec Petrokov was fat, balding and the colour of brown sugar, a result of living in a villa in Italy. 

"Please, Alec. I need you to help me. You're the best person I know for this," replied Hero. She was tired, anxious, and the cheap dye in her hair had partially washed out, leaving it mousey brown. A few more weeks, and she would be dark auburn once more, easily recognisable. She was also, for the first time in her career, afraid. 

"Oh? That's not what I heard. Isn't pretty boy back in business? And, doushka, we both know he's  the best." 

"And how would you know that, hmm? If you're retired, that is," Hero retorted.  

"I have my ways," replied Alec obstinately. 

Hero laughed humourlessly. "Well, isn't that just fantastic. Just proves I'm right. And..." 

"What?" 

"James is suffering from a little... memory loss, shall we say. And he's managed to fall back in with the wrong crowd." 

Alec smiled slightly, understanding. "Jones' crew, or those bastards you were working for last time you came to see me?" 

"Those bastards," Hero confirmed. 

"So. You need me, then. For what?" 

"We're going to rescue James."

Alec frowned. "I thought you just said he-" 

"They're up to something, Alec. James has been gone a year, why hire me to go after him now? Why did Jones suddenly want him back? I think, whatever they're doing, we don't want them to have James on their side," Hero replied, voicing theories she'd been thinking on for weeks. 

"What if I want a piece of the action?" Alec asked, raising an eyebrow. "What if I decide that I want to join up with them. This is huge, Hero." 

"I saved your butt in Moscow. You owe me," Hero snapped, and Alec sighed in defeat. 

"So what's the plan?" 

A/N: Considering how long I made you wait for this, I'm sorry it's so short. Unfortunately, I can't promise regular updates for the next few weeks, because I have exams and stuff. 

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, and as always, I'd love feedback, votes and stuff. 

J x