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Alex slept fitfully because his thoughts wandered back and forth between Nicky, Gavin, and even Delos. He wasn't sure if it was a conundrum, a quagmire, or just a plain clusterfuck and it really didn't matter because the reality was that he was experiencing an enormous amount of angst.

Alex thought back to his earlier dream and wondered what it meant. Maybe it didn't mean anything -- not all dreams do. His thoughts returned to his three friends. He was going to seek out Nicky in the morning. He tried to sleep but his thoughts wouldn't allow him to rest and kept his brain working overtime.

He wasn't sure if he slept at all, but when he finally decided to get out of bed it was nearly ten in the morning. It was too late to eat breakfast at the hotel as the restaurant had already stopped its morning service. He was aching and, truth-be-told, a bit cranky from not having slept well. He knew he had to eat something, so he walked a few blocks to Patisserie Valerie and got two croissants and a cup of their coffee, which by all reported accounts was strong enough to dissolve an entire tank in under thirty seconds.

He sipped the coffee, and it was as strong as could be, as he walked back towards the tube station. It certainly woke him up and he felt his energy level rise. He stuffed the first croissant into his face and quickly followed it with the second as he arrived at the tube station.

He knew the tube system was far too complex from him to have any hope of running into Nicky accidentally, but he vividly remembered how to get to Nicky's world. He'd take his chances there. He went into the station and descended onto the first level to await a Circle Line train to Baker Street. He'd change to the Metropolitan line there and take the third car of the third train.

Suddenly, he remembered he was probably being followed. He knew Derek Michaels would have him followed to try and get to the King through Nicky. He couldn't believe Mr. Michaels thought he was that naïve.

Alex wondered what to do because it didn't appear as if anyone was following him. He wasn't able to identify anyone suspicious. The feeling of being watched, however, was very strong. Deep down he knew he'd never even spot a real professional. And this time, it wouldn't be the local cops tailing him but MI-5 -- this was coming from the highest levels and they wouldn't farm it out to Scotland Yard. He resolved not to let the fear of being watched get to him. He'd do his best and be as careful as he could.

He waited for a Circle line train, but one still hadn't come. After he'd been standing on the platform for much longer than should have been necessary there was finally an announcement. "Due to signal failure at Gloucester Road, there is no direct Circle line service at this time. Customers awaiting Circle Line going clockwise are advised to take the District Line to Earl's Court and change there. Circle Line customers going anti-clockwise should take the District Line and change at Bank."

"Oh, bother," thought Alex, jumping on the train at the platform before the doors closed. It was a quick two stops to Earl's Court where he studied the signage, trying to figure out which of the many platforms was the correct one. He studied the map, realizing he'd have to take the District Line to Edgeware Road, then change again to the Hammersmith & City Line and go one stop to Baker Street. He took it as an ominous sign and he wasn't pleased. This extra messing about put him even more out of sorts than he had been, and coupled with the insistent feeling he was being observed, he was getting a strong sense that everything was spinning out of control.

Soon, he was on a District Line train headed in the right direction. It was jam-packed and he was feeling a bit claustrophobic as people kept piling in. One diversion was enough to create chaos on the tube. Happily, a few stops later many passengers got off at Notting Hill Gate, making the rest of the journey far less uncomfortable.

The line's terminus was at Edgeware Road, and he exited and was ready to switch to the Hammersmith & City Line when he noticed the Circle line was running again. Sometimes he wondered if the tube was very efficient or woefully inefficient. He wasn't sure which it was. He hopped on a nearly deserted Circle Line train and rode the one stop to Baker Street where he disembarked.

He walked down the stairs to the Metropolitan line platform. It was familiar in more than a cursory way. Even though he had only been on this platform a few times, he felt intimately connected with it, remembering the smells, the details, and even the exact place he had dropped some change on the platform a few years ago.

Alex became increasingly apprehensive as the train entered the station. He watched people get on and off, but he stood there. As it left, he counted "one" in his head. He walked down the platform and peered down the tunnel, wondering what was going to happen when he found Nicky.

Alex looked around to see if anyone else had stayed in the station with him, but he could see no one. He wondered if MI5 was clever enough to pull this off. He hoped not. Though it wasn't terribly hot, beads of sweat dotted his brow, and he wiped them off.

His heart rate increased as the second train entered the station. Alex walked to where the third car was, and leaned against the wall. He counted "two" in his head as the train left the station. He almost felt as if he was going to hyperventilate, but he took some deep breaths. As the next train entered, he boarded the third car, and stood by the door, too impatient to even consider sitting.

The train slowly lumbered out of the station. Alex kept alternating between staring out the window at the tunnel wall and looking at the map over the door, wondering if he'd see the change. Any moment, the train would pull into Lord's station. He listened for any announcements from the driver.

"Next station, Finchley Road. This train is for Watford," intoned a male voice over the public address speaker.

The train pulled into Finchley Road, and Alex got off. He was angry. He knew something had gone wrong, but he wasn't sure what. He ran to the other platform to return to Baker Street to try again.

Alex tried again. It failed again. He became frustrated because he knew it was the third car of the third train. He went back to Baker Street again and repeated the experiment, this time sitting down and not looking at the map. He even sat in the same seat he did the first time he went several years before.

There was no change. He arrived at the next station. He wanted to scream, to cry out, but he knew he couldn't. This was his third failure. He went back to Baker Street again. This time, he went to the end of the platform, and peered down into the tunnel for a long time, looking and hoping to see something, anything. This was turning into a very emotional moment for Alex and he didn't know what to do. He wished Gavin were there.

Suddenly, a hand gripped his shoulder and he jumped and gave out a yelp, and turned around to see who had grabbed him, hoping it was Nicky or Gavin. He suspected it would be MI5 but it was just a uniformed London Underground employee.

"May I enquire as to what you are doing, young man?"

"I was just looking," said Alex, thinking quickly, "to see if I could see the abandoned station that's down there."

The man visibly relaxed and let him go. "Sorry. You can't see it. It's around a bend in the track. Even if you could see it, there's not much there. It's been too many years. It's about as abandoned as one could imagine. I'd suggest a visit to the London Transport Museum -- they have photographs."

"Okay. Thanks. I'll do that." Alex knew he couldn't keep doing this all day, but he decided he'd give it one more try, just in case. Two trains had already passed so the one coming in was the third.

"I'll just be on my way," he said to the man, and then headed towards the train and boarded. He held his breath in anticipation, hoping this would be the charm.

But as the train pulled into Finchley Road, he knew he was defeated. He disembarked and went to the other platform and waited for a return train. He began to feel incredibly depressed. Nicky was the reason he had come here and now Nicky was lost to him. He could spend days riding the tube and hope to find him busking. Or maybe he could even find him at Speaker's Corner where had run into Nicky once before, but he felt those odds were long. He felt desolate inside and wanted to cry. He was sure Nicky was lost forever.

A train pulled in, and Alex boarded and returned to Baker Street trying to remember anything from his previous trip that would help. Then it came to him: a sudden inspiration! He knew how to find Nicky! The Endive Tailor on Saville Row was where Nicky had taken him to get proper clothes! He switched to the Jubilee Line at Baker Street and took it the one stop to Bond Street. He exited and walked towards Saville Row as fast as he could without attracting attention.

He found The Endive Tailor and his heart soared, his depression forgotten. He tried to remember the tailor's name before he went in. Matthew, Michael, or something like that, he thought. It didn't matter. Even if he didn't know the name, he'd know the face.

He went in, and there was an older man working, though it certainly wasn't the one who had waited on him last time. Alex marched confidently to the counter and said, "Yes, I was here a few years ago and had some clothes made."

"Ah, yes, well we keep everything on file. I'm certain I can help you. I'm Jeremy, and I am the proprietor," he said offering his hand.

Alex shook it, and said, "I'm Alex. I was wondering: a nice elderly gentleman helped me, a tallish short. Is he still here?"

"You must be mistaken. This is a small shop. I've been here nearly thirty years. There're only two others who work here. There's Matthew, but he's not much past thirty. There's Michael, but he's rather large. And, myself, of course."

"That just can't be."

"Sorry to disappoint you. You must be mistaken. We can get you fixed up properly, though. What is your surname?"

"Maitland," said Alex. He wanted to see who had completed his work order. That would prove it.

Jeremy went through the files. "I'm sorry Mister Maitland. There's nothing here at all with your name. These files go back nearly twenty years. There are more in the back, but those are from before you were even born."

"I was brought here by another client with the last name Vonamoor. Your shop came highly recommended for top quality and top service. Nobody better." Alex's bluff was running out.

There was a long pause. Alex didn't notice it, though. "Sir, I can assure you. I know all of our clients personally. If it will make you feel better, come here."

Alex walked behind the counter. Jeremy showed him the files and under "M" there was no Maitland listed nor was there a Vonamoor under "V."

"I don't know what to say. I was here. I stood in your back room, was measured, and even picked out a fabric from the bolts standing in the back corner."

"If you'd like a proper suit, we can gladly take your measurements," said Jeremy who was clearly uncomfortable. "We can even take them again if it will make you happier."

Even Alex could see Jeremy was not comfortable by this point. He had no idea why: he wasn't sure if Jeremy was lying and covering up something or if he thought his customer was daft. Either way this wasn't working. He had lost the battle.

"Tell you what. I best go have some tea, clear my head, and then come back for the measurements. I'm obviously not feeling well," said Alex excusing himself. He didn't see the figure come from the shadows and slip in to the shop a few moments later.

Once he was out of sight of the shop, he ran towards the tube. He was sure he saw, out of the corner of his eye, someone running after him. He knew it wasn't Nicky, because the gait was different. He remembered Nicky too well to confuse him for someone else. He tried to see who was following him, but he lost sight almost instantly. He slowed to a walk as he neared the Bond Street tube station. He went down, and entered through the fare gates. He got on the escalator for the Jubilee Line, ignoring the busker entirely, and took the next train to Green Park.

He knew it was a long interchange, but it would be faster than backtracking to Westminster. He was going back to the hotel. As far as he was concerned, this day was finished, along with all hopes of ever finding Nicky. He no longer cared if he was being followed. He no longer cared about anything. He simply wanted to get back to the hotel and cry. He'd then wait for Gavin to return to London, and they'd fly home together. There was nothing left for him here.

He passed a busker almost as soon as he exited the Jubilee Line. He walked through the warren of tunnels at Green Park, his head hung down, looking at the floor, knowing it was a good five-minute walk to the Piccadilly Line where he was headed. He heard the strains of Journey's Who's Crying Now coming from up ahead, and figured the busker was probably around the corner. This busker sounded really good and he thought he would stop and listen a bit, but quickly realized buskers in general reminded him too much of Nicky. It was too bad because he really enjoyed them until... well, until right about now.

He trudged along, still feeling despondent, his black mood dulling his senses and his spirit. When the music suddenly stopped mid-note, he looked up, because it caught his attention. He couldn't believe what he saw with his own eyes.

"Nicky?"

"Alex?"