The Hanged Man didn’t resist as the redheaded girl helped him up off of the floor and heaved him across her shoulders. Her strength spoke to him, and she gave him something to focus on through all the pain and blood. She had a round yet sculpted face, and deep brown eyes that reminded him of an ex-girlfriend he’d had an eternity ago. Her eyes had turned gold when they’d caught the fresh sunlight. [i][b] I wonder if her’s do the same.[/b] [/i] 

[b]“Let’s go.” [/b]

With his arm slung over her shoulder, Ristachev stumbled onwards, going wherever she might take him. 

[b]“Might I have the name of my saviour?”[/b] He asked her in his now slightly raspy voice, smiling amidst the scars and dried blood. His eyes drifted down to her soft ginger tresses. [i] [b]Like ribbons of crackling fire[/b][/i]. 

[b]“Hey Comrade, where do I know ya from? I’m sure I’d be able to place it if it weren't for that nasty little scrape you got there.” [/b]

Pulling himself back into the real world, Ristachev suddenly became very aware of the dark haired figure creeping up behind them. 

[b]“I had a government job, a while back,” [/b]He said simply [b]“You might have seen me on the TV now and then.”[/b] He gave a little shrug, instantly regretting it as a spike of pain shot through his back. 

[b]“I don’t suppose you’re one of those famous American terrorists I’d have heard of?”[/b] he asked, more out a strange form of politeness than any genuine curiosity. 

Studying the man’s face further, Ristachev was reminded of a document he’d been presented with at a UN meeting way-back-when. Something about a ring of arms dealers. The various secret services had had a few promising leads, courtesy of Prime, but they’d never made any solid connections. Ristachev had been meaning to follow it up, but he’d been deposed before anything came of it.

They’d called him something that had sounded like a woman’s name to him. [i][b]Emily? No, that can’t be right.[/b][/i]