Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. I'm just borrowing them, and I promise to give them back unharmed … well maybe slightly dinted. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libellous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

Prologue

She sighed and shivered. It was cold in the park, but then it was always cold everywhere in New York in late December. The New Year was due to start and she needed to return home, but not before she made sure he was safe and cared for. She couldn't just abandon him, but she couldn't care for him either. She shivered again and pulled her coat around her tightly. Her family would never understand.

He'd been older than her, and certainly not handsome in any conventional sense of the word, but she'd loved his gruffness and straightforwardness, and the fact he never judged her for what she was. When he left for home, she missed him more than she'd thought possible for such a brief relationship. But he'd had to leave, and then … well then she'd found out she was pregnant. Her family would never understand.

She waited. And waited. Various people passed by, all bustling to get home before the New Years parties started in earnest. She weighed them all up carefully. None of them seemed right somehow. She wasn't sure she knew what right was, but she was determined to wait until it was right.

Finally she spotted someone. A policeman. She wasn't sure why, but he felt right. She slipped down the pathway and placed the tiny bundle down on the park bench, kissing her newborn baby son's forehead for one last time, before scurrying behind a tree to watch. Barely a minute later, and the policeman had spotted the bright blue blanket. She watched as he cooed over the infant, before wrapping him warmly inside his own overcoat and heading purposefully in the direction of the nearby hospital. She smiled to herself and slipped away. She'd been right; her son would be in good hands now.

Eleven years later

He pulled the baseball cap down to hide his face with the peak and his hood up over the cap. He shivered as a blast of cold December air whirled around the dark shop doorway he was huddled in, and fastened his battered denim jacket tightly. He'd deliberately picked the one shop on the road without flashing festive Christmas lights in the window. He shoved his hands into a battered pair of thin black leather gloves, and then into his pockets, wriggling his fingers to keep them warm. A flame flickered briefly from the alley opposite, quickly replaced by a small red glow. Remy chuckled to himself. Very subtle; keep out of sight … and smoke a cigarette.

Remy waited patiently, keeping one eye on the alley and a close eye out for people passing by. The street was deserted though. This wasn't exactly one of the most desirable areas in London, and everyone had obviously hurried inside to keep warm tonight. Remy shivered again and wished he'd done the same thing. A shrill whistle from across the street, a last look to make sure the street was still deserted, and Remy was off and running across the street. He darted down an alleyway and quickly to the end, hopping onto the top of a dumpster with great agility. He reached up and jumped, grabbing the bottom of a fire escape ladder and hauling himself up.

Halfway up the ladder, he swung himself sideways and dropped from the ladder onto the apex of the neighboring roof. He crouched, holding the roof briefly as a gust of wind blasted him. As soon as the wind died a little, he was up and running along the apex to the wall. He scrambled up the wall and grabbed the windowsill, pulling himself up and onto it. He balanced carefully on the narrow ledge and reached his hand round the slightly opened window. Being small, it was no problem at all to Remy to slide his arm in, but then being small became a disadvantage as the catch was almost out of his reach; almost, but with a wriggle of his shoulder, not quite. He popped the window open, and then dropped himself through and into the building.

Outside there had been moonlight and the glow of nearby streetlights. Inside it was much darker. He crouched quietly for a moment, allowing his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness, listening for any signs of life. Reassured, he looked around. The large main room was mostly empty. Anything of value had been removed long before and only a few empty cardboard boxes remained. He snuck noiselessly over to a door and opened it carefully. A hallway lined with offices. He made his way past them and down the stairs, taking them quickly, but carefully, all the way to the ground floor.

Masses of boxes were piled high here. Remy picked his way around, not bothering to check what was in them. He reached the roller shutter door and stared for a few moments at the lock mechanism. Easy enough. In seconds a lock pick was in his hand, and he fiddled with the workings of the lock until a familiar clicking noise was heard. He stowed the pick and slid the door upwards, cringing as the shutters groaned and squeaked. A couple of pairs of hands grabbed the bottom of the door and shoved the shutters upwards quickly as Remy slid his gloves off and buried them deep in his jeans pockets. Remy ducked under the door and out of the warehouse, as the two men ducked inside. A third man was waiting outside.

"Good work, kid."

"Thanks, Sully." He held his hand out and Sully pushed some money into it.

"There you go. We might have some more jobs for you next week. Oh, and any more car radios would be good too."

"I'll see what I can do." Remy checked quickly, then scrunched the notes into his pocket and headed off.

One of the men came out of the warehouse with a box in his arms. He watched Remy's rapidly retreating back. "You sure we can trust him, Sully? What if the cops nick him?"

Sully laughed coldly. "What's to trust? He's just a kid, and he needs the money and a roof over his head. He's hardly likely to go running to the cops. Even if he did, he has no idea what's in the boxes, and no idea where to find us. What's he going to tell them? That he broke into a few warehouses for no apparent reason? The only fingerprints they're ever going to find will be his. We wear gloves, and he's too dumb to know about things like that. Besides, he's underage. What's the worst they can do to him? Throw him in a home? He'd be out within a week. Regular little Houdini this kid. I know where to find him. He'll keep quiet, or he'll regret it."