Disclaimer: Don't own the TV-Show. The story is set between series two and three. The title is taken from a song by "The Pogues" called "Lorelei".


When I arrived at the airport, Heathrow to be precise, the heavy rain fell like a massive curtain, making everything grey and uniform. The sky was filled with a dense layer of clouds, promising nothing but the expectation of more cold, wet and thick drops falling downwards for the next hours.

I climbed out the car, opened my umbrella- a navy blue- and pulled the obligatory dull black cagoule closer around me. The rain hammered against the soft fabric jumping back and finally hitting the grey bituminised floor. Then I hauled my luggage out of the boot and went for my terminal.

Even the glasses of the huge hall seemed to have become a bit dirty and blurred by the rain.

Shortly before I entered the huge building I hesitated. Who knows when there was the next chance to feel rain again on my skin? Tickling down my neck and making me wish to have bought a better rain coat instead? I stretched out my arm, caught some of the cold water drops and put my hand back into the warm pocket of the coat. A gesture like I could capture that bit of rain.

Australia was going to be hot and dry, for most of the time. Maybe I'd be lucky and the sky would open up a bit and let it rain. Just like it permanently did here. One year filled with sun and aridity. Yet my stay there would make it worth being on the other end of the world. I wasn't going to Australia in vain.

Hanna had chosen me. She wanted me to do it. Despite the debacle in the United States three months ago. Even if I didn't show it openly I was thankful for this operation.

Australia was far enough to forget everything troubling my mind here. Far enough away to think about different issues. Plus I would have to bally concentrate myself. The smallest piece of distraction, the inattention of a mere second, might have unimaginable consequences. Maybe for me too, although this was the point I couldn't care less about. In case I wouldn't work correctly people could die; the only thing which I couldn't, wouldn't and certainly won't let happen.

It wouldn't be quite a hazard-free year down there. Our systems had a breakdown lately and the most recent device we possessed was probably a camera build in the year 2000.

I walked through the glass door and the used to always too stuffy air greeted me. In a conversant movement I lowered my umbrella, shook the raindrops away and did a step out of the puddle which had formed under my feet.

Now, I simply had to get onto the plane.

The woman behind the counter smiled widely at me. 'Your passport please.'