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It wasn't supposed to be like this. This wasn't how Lucas had envisaged things when he had been back in his cell in Russia. Back then it had seemed so easy. When, if, the British got him back he would simply return to his life, to his job, to MI5 and being Lucas North, member of Her Majesty's Secret Intelligence Services. He hadn't expected to return and be struck with wave after wave of dysphoria that he didn't know how to deal with. Hadn't expected to not only struggle to deal with the feelings of unease that crashed over him like waves over a sea wall but also the overwhelming feeling that he wasn't entirely sure who he was supposed to be.

It wasn't unusual he supposed, given the profession that he was in. He was an intelligence officer. Half his life was spent being someone other than himself. A cover. Hell, the same went for half of Thames House. Maybe the difference was that Lucas was too many people. He wasn't really Lucas North, he was John Bateman. Except he wasn't. He was also the British intelligence officer who had spent eight years in Russian prison. Who had willingly submitted to the blue inked designs of the Vory V Zakone which showed him to be an inmate of the Russian prison system. Becoming one of them rather than a British agent.

Eight years of intermittent of torture and solitary confinement had blurred all of the lines between the different people that he had been and he was struggling to compartmentalise it all again. Struggling to put them all back in their boxes and work out who he was.

He knew who he was supposed to be. He was supposed to be Lucas North, one of the best intelligence officers MI5 had ever had. Former Chief of Section D. Former lover of Adam Carter, the current Chief of Section D. He wanted to be both those things again, although he would happily allow Adam to retain the responsibilities of being Chief. As he thought about it, he couldn't help but slant a glance at the man in question.

Who knew, maybe he would get there again someday.