Losing Lucas

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Disclaimer: [Spooks] and Lucas North belong to the BBC and Kudos.  All original characters belong to me.

He was shaking as he knelt on the floor.  He'd faced death so many times and yet now, with the cold stark reality of a gun held to his head, he realised he was really scared.  What made it worse was he'd thought himself in love with the woman holding the gun.  He was angry too.  Angry that she'd betrayed him and the rest of MI5...and angry that he'd let himself be sucked into her cold heart.  Worst of all, he'd allowed her the opportunity to disarm him, and now she said she had no choice but to kill him.  There was always a choice...

He heard the door and realised that she'd left...that she'd not pulled the trigger.  Today was not his day to die it seemed.  Relief washed over him and he fell back against his heels, lowering his head into his hands.  He didn't understand why she'd chosen not to pull the trigger, maybe somewhere deep inside her traitorous mind she really did have a conscience...after recent events he doubted it.


Lucas needed a drink.  He wanted to drown himself in a bottle of vodka and forget everything, to escape the despair of the unloved and the betrayed.  He didn't know where he was going...he didn't much care.  He found himself in Soho and a thought crossed his mind.  He shrugged it off but it crept back in, reminding him of his last trip to Moscow.  He'd been working...but in that club, with the girl on his lap, the burn of the vodka as it slipped down his throat...he couldn't deny that he'd felt something.  The promise of that heady cocktail of lust and alcohol seemed so much more appealing than his flat or work...more appealing than the memory of that cold-hearted bitch Sarah too.

Round the next corner Lucas found himself heading down some steps and into one of the many lap-dancing clubs littering that part of London.  He told himself he'd just have a couple of drinks and then he'd leave...that's all...just to take the edge off.  

This was not a salubrious establishment by anyone's standards but he was sure there were worse.  It was dark and too warm and the air felt thick.  Removing his jacket he ordered a drink at the bar.  Feeling more than a little ashamed that he'd had an urge to visit a place like this Lucas was relieved to see there were only a couple of other men being "entertained".  Taking a seat he tried to relax, closing his eyes briefly as he felt the warmth of the vodka slide down his throat.

"Hi there..." A soft voice interrupted his thoughts and he opened his eyes.  A woman had slid onto the seat next to him and was smiling at him.  It was a false smile, he could see that, but as he looked at her he realised that behind the plastered on makeup, she was actually really attractive.  She wasn't wearing much apart from black underwear that sparkled under the lights, so he could see she had a feminine curvy figure with long dark hair, soft brown eyes and caramel skin.  She reminded him of someone and he smiled back at her in surprise.

"You look like you've had a bad day."  She leant forward slightly as she spoke, emphasising her generous breasts.  

Lucas couldn't help but look.  "You could say that," he sighed, wondering if he looked like a man who'd just narrowly avoided death.  "What's your name?"

She slid a little bit closer and whispered, "It could be anything you'd like it to be."  

Lucas resisted rolling his eyes and realised that he was actually slightly turned on by this woman.  She was sexy...he'd expected to find the women in a place like this sleazy but she was definitely sexy.  And she looked so similar to... "Maya...perhaps I could call you Maya."  He blushed slightly.

She nodded.  "And what should I call you?" 

"John...call me John."  He felt a twinge of guilt as the name slipped off his tongue, but it disappeared as soon as he felt her hand slide slowly up his thigh.

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