A/N: Hello, all! Long time no see for many of you cause I suck at updating my fics. This fic, however, is already finished, so I can actually update it once a week instead of abandoning it for months at a time, so get excited about that! For the last two months or so, I've been writing this with my lovely friend The Queen of Valencia Torgue, who is leaving for a super long trip tomorrow! So I wanted to get this up and get the fic going so that (hopefully) she could see some nice reviews before she leaves (*innocent grin*)

So yeah, this takes place about five years after Goliath. French and German come straight from Google Translate so sorry if they're hella wrong. Translations are listed at the bottom. Hope you guys like this, next chapter will be up next Sunday. Please review!

Chapter One

Sometimes it feels like Alek's life has gone by really fast.

It wasn't like that when he was younger, he remembers quite clearly. Growing up being basically told that he had no greater purpose in life had made every day achingly slow as he longed for an adulthood where he could take control of his own life and escape the destiny Fate had given him.

The month and a half he'd spent in a Stormwalker running off to Switzerland had been some of the longest nights of his life.

Everything seemed to change, though, when he met Deryn Sharp.

Deryn made it a mission in life to never do anything at less than full speed, and she had dragged Alek along with her, every day, starting with that first night when her ship crashed in the snow. His life's been fast-paced ever since. Sometimes Alek finds himself wishing he had more time on the Leviathan, more time as a daft prince blindly following Providence around the world. Sometimes he just wishes his life would slow down a little.

But then he remembers it's speed that brought him to Deryn, saved him from another sheltered life in a castle. It's speed that got him married at nineteen and thrust into a world of science and secrets.

Unfortunately, it's also speed that's gotten him here- standing in the doorway of a large, golden ballroom with Dr. Barlow and Count Volger on either side of him, wearing a brand new suit with a knife hidden in his jacket, a fabricated worm curled up inside his ear, serving as a communication link between him and his team, including Deryn, standing watch somewhere within the innards of the hotel.

He's gotten used to such strange creatures over the years, and yet his stomach coils with nerves. He tries to convince himself that it's not because he's going into this mission without Deryn by his side.

Although he supposes it's feelings like these that caused Dr. Barlow to give Alek and Deryn such separated jobs in the first place- it's not safe for them to get too codependent of each other.

Alek half-listens as the servants announce their presence, holds back his laugh at the fake name the Society has given him (Alexander Worthingsworth, and he's glad Dr. Barlow's trained him to mask his Clanker accent because that sure is a British name if he's ever heard one), and moves across the floor by instinct, separating himself from Dr. Barlow and the count in order to slip through the crowd.

"Do you see her?" he asks under his breath, scanning ahead for his target.

"Aye, she's by the far wall, dancing with some French bloke," Deryn's voice reports in his ear, her Scottish lilt calming Alek's nerves just by itself.

He wonders where she is that lets her see so well without being in the room with him, but Dr. Barlow was insistent on keeping their exact orders from each other, in case things go pear-shaped, as Deryn likes to say. All he knows is she's supposed to keep a lookout while he seduces some debutant and gets access to her father's vault so Barlow and Volger can come in later tonight and steal back the encoded plans for a new military fabrication that had been taken from Buckingham Palace only a few days ago.

Of course, Alek doesn't know what the new creature is, what it's supposed to do, or why anyone would be stupid enough to steal from the Darwinists when they just won a war, but no one seems to want to tell him anything, save for that this mission is important.

And he's always been one to follow orders, when they suit him, so he goes along with it.

"Of course, she's barking gorgeous," Deryn grumbles in his ear, making Alek hold back a laugh as his own eyes fall on the girl whose picture he's been staring at for days.

The pictures definitely don't do her justice, but he wouldn't call her gorgeous- especially compared to his wife. He says as much, and can practically hear Deryn roll her eyes at him.

"Can both of you please stay focused?" Dr. Barlow's voice chides them.

Still, Alek allows himself a smile that he hopes Deryn can see before he slips further into the crowd.

"Elisabeth Devereaux" is supposedly the daughter of a French aristocrat stationed in England to help build relationships between the Darwinist countries. But Society knowledge has informed them that she's actually the daughter of an old Austrian military official, serving as a German spy. From what Alek can tell from the limited information he has on Franziska von Schnauz, she's not extremely interested in her father's ploys, meaning it shouldn't be hard convincing her to help him out.

Alek gently approaches her, laying a hand on her dance partner's arm and asking, "Puis-je couper en?", hoping his Clanker accent isn't as evident in his French as it once was.

The Frenchman smiles and nods, kissing Franziska's hand before departing into the crowd. Alek takes his place and position, resting his right hand at the small of her back and grasping her right hand with his left, then lets his instincts take over, gliding across the floor with her as Dr. Barlow whispers reminders of his orders in his ear.

Of course, Alek knows exactly what he's supposed to do. Convince the girl to leave the hotel with him, show her the sights of London or whatever (not that Alek knows them much better than she does, even after all these years), capture enough of her heart to get her to tell him the location of her father's hiding place for the plans, and then knock her out and let Deryn, Volger, and Dr. Barlow take care of the rest. Not the nicest of plans, in Alek's own personal opinion, but Dr. Barlow's certain it's the one that will work.

"Je ne crois pas que nous avons avant," Franziska flirts smoothly, offering Alek a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "Je m'appelle Elisabeth Devereaux."

"Alexander Worthingsworth," Alek returns, letting his fake British accent bleed into the name, letting the girl know what side he's on now that he's not speaking French. "A pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle."

"She's good," Count Volger murmurs, and Alek can't tell if he's warning him or simply commenting. Knowing Volger, it's probably the former. "Not a hint of German in that accent."

That's the idea, Alek thinks, noting bitterly that the count says nothing about his accent, but pushes his thoughts aside, turning his attention back to the girl in front of him.

"I must thank you for coming," Franziska says, her English hesitant but her accent completely French. "I love being able to meet new people native to this wonderful country."

Alek resists the urge to roll his eyes at the irony, even as Deryn snorts in his ear.

"I'm glad I can welcome you here," he lies, offering Franziska a (hopefully) genuine (-looking) smile. "In fact, perhaps when your guests have left for the night, you'll allow me to show you around the city a bit."

Franziska's polite smile freezes, the slightest bit of tension appearing in her back, where Alek still has his hand as they dance. His trained eyes note a wariness in her gaze that makes him think, for half a second, that his cover's been blown.

The comms have been silent for a while now, meaning Deryn's off somewhere focusing on her own mission, but Alek can see Barlow and Volger watching him out of the corner of his eye, staying silent in case Franziska really is attuned to their plans, but giving him warning looks from across the room.

But then Franziska relaxes, giving Alek an apologetic smile. "Je regrette, Monsieur Alexander. Mais mon père ne voulait pas me quitter l'hôtel sans lui."

Without warning, Franziska suddenly steps closer, pulling Alek towards her so that their faces are inches apart. Alek stumbles, but manages to keep them dancing, his eyes wide. He dares to hope his ears haven't turned red.

"Ce que tu-" he starts to say, but she cuts him off, switching effortlessly to her heavily accented English.

"I would, however, love to spend some more time with you. Perhaps, in a more private setting?"

"Be careful, Alek," Dr. Barlow warns in his ear. "You don't want to be stuck inside alone with her, we don't know what kind of resources she has in her own territory."

But Alek can see a look in her eyes- a look he's seen countless times in the bright blue eyes of his wife. It's the look of a girl who wants to be free from the expectations of her society.

And if that means bringing a prestigious Englishman up to her hotel room when her father obviously has secrets he wants to keep hidden, well, who is Alek to deny her her greatest wish?

He guides her into a spin, sending Barlow and Volger a reassuring glance when her back is turned, then catches Franziska in his arms again, dipping her backwards and giving her as wide a smile as he can muster.

"That sounds absolutely lovely."

They slip away from the crowd before the dance is even half over, and Alek manages one last assuring glance at his teammates before Franziska pulls him up the stairs to her suite.

He sees it almost immediately- the safe embedded in the wall of the hotel room, almost certainly the place where Herr von Schnauz is keeping the stolen plans.

"Puis-je vous offrir quelque chose à boire?" the girl asks, already pouring a glass of wine.

Alek answers, "Oui, s'il-vous-plaît," almost absent-mindedly as he tries to make it look like he's admiring the room as a whole while actually focusing on the safe, trying to figure out how to convince her to give him the code.

Unsurprisingly (if he's being honest with himself), his thoughts turn to his wife. This girl actually reminds him quite a bit of Deryn, despite her jet black hair and warm brown eyes, her strong (even when fake) French accent, the fact that she and Alek are gloriously the same height (which is both convenient for dancing and just plain gratifying), and of course her family's plans to destroy (or at least cause harm to) Darwinism and the British government.

But the little that Alek knows about Franziska and her family really does remind Alek of his Mr. Sharp. Franziska's whole world was destroyed after the Great War. Surely, she sees this move to England as an escape, no matter her father's intentions.

Alek saw the look in her eyes. He doesn't believe she means any harm.

Suddenly, Franziska is behind him, a hand on his shoulder turning him to face her. He takes the wine glass she offers him and takes a sip, frowning when he notices the scared look in her eyes.

"Is something wrong, mademoiselle?" he asks her.

"Non," she assures him, managing a smile. "I'm just… very sorry, monsieur."

Alek's frown deepens. He tries to ask what she's sorry for, but his head is suddenly too fuzzy to form the words. The wine glass falls from his fingers, thumping against the carpet. Alek stumbles backwards, watching the spilled wine seep into the carpet like blood. Franziska's hand on his arm keeps him from falling but his head is still spinning, the taste of wine at the back of his throat suddenly much too sweet.

Whatever she put in his drink isn't the same drug Volger and Klopp subdued him with all those years ago, but it has the same effects.

Before he knows what's happening, Alek is staring at the ceiling, his vision blurry.

Franziska's face appears above him, her eyes confident but sympathetic.

"I really am sorry, Aleksandar," she pronounces, her accent now undoubtedly German, as she pulls the communication fabrication out of Alek's ear and crushes it between her fingers. "Heil Deutschland."

Everything goes black.

A/N: So there's the first chapter! I hope you all liked it. Next chapter will be up next Sunday if it kills me. Please review!

Translations:

Puis-je couper en?- May I cut in?

Je ne crois pas que nous avons rencontré avant.- I don't believe we've met before.

Je m'appelle Elisabeth Devereaux.- My name is Elisabeth Devereaux.

Mademoiselle- Miss

Je regrette, Monsieur Alexander. Mais mon père ne voulait pas me quitter l'hôtel sans lui.- I'm sorry, Mr. Alexander. But my father doesn't like me to leave the hotel without him.

Ce que tu- What are you-

Puis-je vous offrir quelque chose à boire?- May I offer you something to drink?

Oui, s'il-vous-plaît- Yes, please.

Non- No.

Heil Deutschland- Hail Germany.