A/N: Ok so the third one-shot is up. Moving away from the emotions now and onto some action so that I can start from a nice place in the proper sequel, From Failing Hands.

DISCLAIMER: None of this is mine.

A/N 2: Ok so when I first posted this i said it was the sequel to dangerous. Ooops. It isn't it is, patently, the sequel to Duty to the Dead. I'm sorry to anyone who was confused!

***

Mrs Jones crossed to the desk and placed a file on it.

"He woke up," she said, slight disbelief colouring her voice.

Blunt looked up. "Keep him on sedatives," he ordered, emotionlessly. "We do not want him to escape. Even if he won't work for us, he is still a dangerous assassin who we cannot allow to leave."

Mrs Jones nodded, and turned to give the order to the waiting guards.

It was, perhaps, unfortunate for them that this secret got out. But then, it was the secret that someone had been waiting to hear for months.

It was not going to remain secret for long.

***

A dark figure stood before the high building. He needed to get inside, and conventional methods weren't going to work. In this building, every window would be alarmed, and the doors impregnable. He would need to cut the power. There was a backup generator that would start automatically when he did. In the five minutes between the power shutting off and the generator starting up, he would have to get in, get down to the basement and get out. It was going to be tough. Hopefully, he might have some help on the getting out part. If he was unlucky, he would have a dead weight to lug back out with him. There was so much that could go wrong... but he didn't have a choice.

It was a matter of honour.

He shimmied quickly up one of pillars that supported the power cables and onto the roof of the building. There was a small man hole. His sources informed him that it led to a maintenance shaft for the lifts. It was probably also alarmed. He looked at the transformer. On one side were the traditional very heavy power cables, but on the other side, the cables were thinner. It would work just as well no matter which ones he cut. He pulled out a pair of heavy-duty wire cutters, checking over the rubber coating on the handles carefully. He did not particularly want to be electrocuted at this point.

Once satisfied, he quickly cut the cables, his arms straining against the thick wire. Once the last one was cut, he unlocked and flipped open the hatch. No alarm sounded. He smirked, and bent to tie something around the hinge. He gave a quick yank, to make sure it was secure, then attached the yoyo to his belt. He had been given this just over two years ago. Since then he had managed to make some changes. The original thirty yard string was now ten times that length, even though it did make the yoyo itself a bit thicker. Quickly, he flicked the motor into reverse and began to climb down the maintenance ladder. He reached the bottom without incident, and looked at his watch. Three minutes and counting.

He stepped through one of the hatches into the main elevator shaft, and found himself opposite a pair of metal doors. He pulled out a tube of zit cream, thankful that he had got it refilled after point blank, and that he hadn't used much of it since. The cream burnt through the door, and he stepped through, detaching the yoyo temporarily. He found himself on a short corridor of cells. It was dark, apart from a small red flash from the independently powered cameras. He was glad he had thought to wear a balaclava. He didn't want them to know he was still alive. He crossed to one of the cells and pulled out the lock pick he had used on the maintenance hatch. With no power, the cell doors were easy to open. He checked his watch again. Two minutes left.

He crossed to the sedated figure and pulled a small bottle out of his pocket. He waved the smelling salts under the older man's nose, and was rewarded with a hand flying out to grab his throat. He didn't even flinch.

He smiled. "Hello, Yassen."

Yassen's eyebrows rose, the only indication of his surprise. Quickly he rose. He still moved like a dancer, despite his loss of muscles.

"Careful," muttered Alex. "You've been unconscious for nearly two years."

The former assassin nodded his understanding, and Alex led the way back to the maintenance shaft. He clipped the yoyo back onto his belt. "Hold tight," he muttered, waiting until he felt Yassen's arms tighten around him to activate the motor.

Slowly the two of them rose into the air, rising towards the twinkling stars twenty stories above them. One minute left.

Thirty seconds.

Twenty.

Ten. They had reached the hatch, Yassen was clambering out.

Nine.

Eight. Alex followed him, untying the yoyo as he went.

Seven.

Six. Alex closed the hatch, and began to lock it.

Five. He jiggled the pick, trying to get past the last obstruction.

Four. Nearly there.

Three.

Two.

One.

He pulled back, hatch locked, just as the power came back on.

He wiped his forehead, relieved. If the alarm had gone off, they would now have had the entire of the secret service chasing them.

"So how do we get out of here?" asked Yassen.

Alex smirked, and nodded over the edge of the roof. "We drive."

It took them about three minutes to climb down, taking frequent rests due to Yassen's loss of fitness. When they reached the bottom, Alex crossed the street to the black Audi waiting there.

An alarm went off behind them. Yassen's escape had been discovered.

He turned as he felt an arm on his shoulder.

"I'm driving," said Yassen.

Alex grinned and chucked him the keys.

They climbed in and Yassen gunned the engine, heading south.

"Channel Tunnel?" he asked. It was the only logical way out of England, after all. He could find out the details later.

"Of course," replied Alex, "We need to get to Germany."

Both men looked at each other. Yassen's lips twitched in what could have been almost a smirk and Alex laughed outright, the sound mingling with the fast-fading sirens of pursuit behind them.

***

A/N: So what did you think? Review and tell me!