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Charlie thought it a good idea. If the building was any indication of the maintenance on the elevator, they would have never made it up alive. Apparently, the agent they were visiting lived on the ninth floor, and by the time they got there, a fine sheen of sweat lined her forehead. Her stomach ached, and the raw skin burned. Sin still clutched her hand.

"Dougie's a bit of a recluse," he said, giving the dilapidated door to the flat a firm knock. "Try not to stare." Though, when the door opened, it was Gabriel who stood on the other side. He ushered them both in along with the dog, shutting the door behind them. The place was small, no more than a studio apartment. The air, warm and stuffy, smelled of stale cigarettes and curry. A man sat in front of a desk jammed with computers and monitors. Sin dropped her hand and went to the agent, putting both hands on his face and kissing him on top of his head. "It's good to see you, Dougie."

The agent turned around and Charlie swallowed her gasp. He was missing half his face. What was left of his cheek and jaw was covered in twisted, knotted scar tissue. "Likewise, Sin." William whined at his feet. "You too, old boy," he said, patting the dog's head. He looked over at her. "You must be Charlie."

She walked over to him, offering her hand. "Yes." It was then she noticed he was also missing a leg.

"Dougal Murray." He took her hand and held it to his nose, inhaling. She pulled it back quickly. "Sorry. I don't get many female visitors of your quality. You smell good." William barked in what sounded like agreement before lying down next to Dougal's chair.

"Let's get on with it," Sinclair said.

"Aye, yes. Congratulations are in order." Dougal opened a manila file on his desk. "We'll celebrate once the nuptials are complete."

"There's nothing to celebrate." Sin picked up a pen and signed the certificate, handing it to Charlie.

"Ah, not the happy couple after all. I gather the colonel forced this on you." Dougal pointed at the line she was supposed to sign.

"You can say that," Sin agreed.

Charlie scanned the document, her heart rate picking up. This wasn't a real marriage, she kept telling herself. Yet why was she so nervous? To bind herself to another not only legally, but morally, through promises, knowing she would eventually break those promises, was wrong. She looked at her name Charlotte Iris Hanover. It would no longer be hers. In fact, she barely knew who she was anymore. She signed the document, setting the pen down. Dougal handed her a passport and a credit card. She opened it up. Just like that, Charlotte Iris Stuart, new identification, new citizenship, new life; her hands began to shake. Sin took them from her, depositing them in the pocket of his suit jacket.

"I'm sorry." She shook her head, backing up. "I need to get out of here." She turned and left. Gabriel followed her out. It wasn't until they were downstairs and outside, she realized she had been holding her breath. She bent over, gulping in the cold damp air in deep heaves.

He put his hand on her back. "We shouldn't loiter here. Let's go to my car." He took her hand, showing her to his Aston Martin. He opened the door and she got in the passenger seat. "Sinclair will be going over a few things with Dougie. It will take a while," he said, sitting down behind the wheel. "How about I take you shopping? You'll need clothes."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I'll manage."

He reached out and let his hand rest on her thigh. "I know this is not what you ever expected—"

She stopped him. "You're a priest? Please, don't tell me this was God's plan."

"I wasn't going to. I wouldn't insult you that way and I'm an ex-priest for a reason. I wouldn't presume to ever know God's plan." He gave her leg a gentle squeeze before removing his hand. "No, what I was going to say is if you need a friend, you can talk to me."

"Friend?" she questioned. "Don't you see? I don't want friends. I don't want to be a part of this."

"Charlie, I'm afraid it's too late for that. Your life has now become inextricably intertwined to Sinclair's, whether you want it or not."

"I don't want it." She brought her fist to her mouth, looking out the window.

"Hey." His finger brushed her cheek. She looked over at him, his clear blue eyes filled with gentle compassion. "Little in this world unfolds as we predict. When life is fragile, we learn to care about it more. We don't take it for granted. Life is fragile for you right now. Don't try to figure it out, just sit with it for a while."

A tear rolled down her cheek. "I don't know what to think anymore."

* * *

Sinclair sat next to Dougal in the rundown flat.

"I hope I didn't scare her off."

"It wasn't you. She's scared, and I could hardly blame her, but it's because she's been kidnapped, tortured, disowned, and now forced into a marriage she doesn't want."

Dougal eyed him speculatively. "She doesn't want, or you don't want?"

"Neither of us," he said shortly.

"Then why agree to it?" Dougal ground the butt of his cigarette into an old paper cup.

"The Watch isn't a democracy, it an order, and there are rules and ranks. You know that, though for some reason, you seem to be unaffected." Sinclair looked at the syringe and tourniquet lying on the desk. It was no secret Dougal was a heroin addict. A casualty of the war and bombing that stole not only body parts, impairing his mobility, but leaving him in agonizing pain. Someone who was once rigidly and compulsively self-reliant was now reduced to the subservient prick of a needle and its mind-numbing fix. It was something the colonel chose to ignore.

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