Chapter 30

Jamie’s eyes opened slowly and tiredly, the headache starting immediately as she looked around and stretched to get the blood flowing through her legs again. Michael had his head leaning back on her ankles and a track of drool was running down the corner of his mouth and onto his shirt, a sight that would probably have made Jamie smile if it weren’t for the crushing feeling in her brain. She carefully slipped her legs from under him and sat up, shivering in the cold air as the blanket slipped from her bare skin. The hand that went to her forehead could feel a trace of a fever, the likely cause of the full-body sweat she had developed as she slept, and it took a lot of effort to stand and slowly make her way to what she thought might be the bathroom in the strange apartment they were in.
Several splashes of cold water helped cool her aching head and a long drink from the tap followed three aspirins that she had found in the medicine cabinet. She could see blood on her face and arms; traces of the previous night that Michael had not been able to clean off and whose smell brought back the scene, a scene she had watched in both fear and satisfaction as her body did the work. 
It was the other her, the part of her that held onto the hatred and hopelessness of her life, that had killed that man with her bare hands. It was Janet, the innocent soul she used to be, whose memories were coming back to her and slowly integrating with her own. The memories weren’t the problem for Jamie- she could deal with those. Some of them had actually strengthened her, like the ones of her friends and family, and the feelings of independence. All of them had been of use to her, giving her hope and confidence in herself in a way that the other cyborgs did not have.
No, the problem was with Janet, who was now the embodiment of something inside her, something dark and fierce and uncontrolled. It was this part of her that had been unleashed upon that man and had killed him brutally, even by killing standards. They weren’t separate personalities. No, it was everything about herself that was being limited by her new form. The conditioning, the training, the adaptation to the body... It was all geared in such a way that restricted her deeply held hatred for everything and anything, a feeling that had formed when she had given up on life and God that night in Paris. Janet was out for the kill, it mattered not of whom, and she was the part of Jamie who’s heart raced and lips smiled as she readied herself to unleash death upon the person in her sights. The skill was Jamie’s but the intent and satisfaction of the kill was not.
Her eyes went to the woman in the mirror, a woman who looked back with saddened eyes.
“You can’t take him... I won’t let you.”
It was Michael that Jamie had to worry about. The part of her that was angry had him in her sights, or at least did not care if he wandered into them. Just as she had said, he was in the way of the killing, and while that part of her didn’t care about him, Jamie could not help but love him. She had to protect him at all costs.
She climbed into the shower and relaxed as the water washed the sweat and blood away, thinking about what she was going to tell him. She had to warn him about the danger he was in, but the question in her head was what he would do after that. They were cut off from the agency, they would be punished if they returned, and that meant she would go back to the lab and then...
The question made her look up from where her head had been resting on her arm against the wall, the warm spray running down her hair onto her body before being swallowed up by the drain.
“What will happen then?”
He had said before that he was hanging by a thread with the chief. What would their latest escapade result in if they returned? Where would Michael end up? Would he be killed or imprisoned? Her own fate was of little consequence when compared to his. 
The only certain way to save him was to stay out of Italy and hidden as best they could, living by the day and night, taking refuge where they could. Even then, that was no guarantee, she knew. They were already in hiding and his life was not much safer now than it was in Rome. His most creditable threat was right next to him.
There was no getting around the fact that she was not totally in control of herself. Janet had said that she could take control when Jamie was weakest, and she knew the results of that. Michael would not stand a chance in the long-term; no one was that vigilant. 
No, the only thing that had helped her was the medicine, the drug they crammed into her to control her. Michael had left it in Rome with their weapons, perhaps feeling that it could be traced as well, or sparing her from its associated problems. In doing so, he had left himself open to her, trusting in her to maintain control and in that she had failed because she was not strong enough. It was her fault. 
“Damn it.” Her fists pounded the wall in frustration, her mind finding only one way for her to maintain control while saving him. She had to return to Italy alone while he made his escape. She could live there with the medicine, free from losing control again, and he could escape from the agency, free to do what he wanted in life.
She thought about it more as she toweled dry, working the possibilities around in her head and finding no other way to keep him safe. As long as she was beside him he was in danger from an unpredictable enemy. It hurt her heart to think about leaving his side, but the thought of hurting him physically felt even worse. It was something she simply could not risk and it would be better to return to the agency than remain there with him.
There was a bag of clothes by the door, the clothes she had wore to Paris, along with a note from Emily telling him how and when to contact her. She took her time dressing, a part of her wishing for Michael to wake up and steer her from her chosen path, but he never stirred from his deep sleep there by the couch. She kept telling herself that she was doing the responsible thing, the adult thing, in protecting him this way, but her heart kept screaming that it wasn’t right, that it wasn’t fair for them to part like this. Her only response to that came from Michael’s own words, that doing the responsible thing was seldom fair to those who decided it.
Everything was in place finally except her hat, the hat whose disappearance only now came to her attention. It was the only thing keeping them from tracking her, and it had been off since she had woken up, probably even before that. That could only mean that the agency knew where they both were and were coming for them. It was this realization that set her plan in stone. She had to leave and lead them away from him, at least run them around long enough to give him a chance to escape. They would never think he would let her roam on her own in Paris, so it was a good bet that they would devote all of their assets to tracking in on her in the assumption he would be there as well.
She found another hat in the bag and slipped it on, then scribbled a short thank you note to Emily and Katherine for their help. To Michael she left only a single sentence on the paper, then weighted it down on the coffee table with her gun. Her last act was to kneel next to him on the floor, watching him sleep for several minutes before kissing him on his lips, lingering there as she silently said goodbye. 

The afternoon was brisk but had a subtle hint of spring in the air, a fact Jamie could appreciate as she made her way to the nearest subway, her mind clicking over to reading in French as she glanced at the signs, the language quickly supplanting her own as the four years of high-school French classes, as well as the agency lessons, came back to her. By the time she stepped on the train, she was just another Parisian woman on her way some place. 
She was thinking like Michael told her and getting into the heads of her pursuers, who were likely to be another fratello, and so she left the subway some distance from her destination and stopped for lunch. Her stomach was aching terribly from the aspirin and the thought of leaving Michael, but the food helped to settle it some and she walked around for a while, window shopping as best she could while keeping an eye out for a tail whenever she looked in the reflective windows of the shops.
She finally figured she had spent enough time wandering around and set off for her planned departure point, the LGV terminal. She would take the high-speed train as far south as she could before hopping the next one to Italy. The only possible way they could get ahead of her was to fly and the transfer point before entering Italy left her an opportunity to spot someone and evade them if she wished. Her plan was flawless and would give Michael precious time to make his way further into hiding, assuming he understood the note she had left.
She pulled her Italian ID from her pack and got into line to wait, working on remaining calm in the face of her last act as Michael’s cyborg. They hardly looked at her ID as they gave her the ticket and she felt almost disappointed at the fact, given the amount of courage she had to work up to keep in her role as a simple traveler. 
The wait was short in the boarding area and she had just set foot on the train when a hand landed on her shoulder, pulling her back and spinning her around. The hand belonged to a uniformed immigration official, a man who did not look very pleased. The pair of uniformed security men behind looked even less pleased.
“Jeanette Constantine? Please come with us, there appears to be some issue with your identity papers.”
“But I’m on my way home to Roma and I must be on this train.” She threw an Italian accent into her French to give it credence, not wanting to be held up from her plans by mere transit police.
“Interesting, considering that your papers list your address as being in Tuscany.”
Jamie’s face paled, unsure now as to what her card had said. She thought it had listed it in Rome, but the doubt on her face was enough to hang her and one of the officers spun her around roughly and handcuffed her.
“Come quietly and we’ll see that you are treated fairly.”
“O-okay. Please... I just want to go home.”
The men said nothing else as they led her past the crowds, all eyes on her suspiciously. The feeling of being a common criminal was humiliating to her, a feeling that was even more worrisome than the fact that she was supposed to be on the run. Entering the terminal’s back hallways was a relief from the eyes on her, even as they led her to an interrogation room and sat her down alone in it, face to face with her reflection in a sheet of one-way glass.
She waited there, handcuffed and entirely alone in the room, and she knew they were letting her stew before they started with the questions. They were going to treat her as a terrorist until someone from the Italian government figured out that the name on the information request was, perhaps, Jamie Christiansen, and that someone from Section Two needed to get the hell to France to clean up the mess.
Of course, that assumed that someone recognized the names Michael had used, which wasn’t very probable given his experience in forgeries. No, she was just another person using fake credentials and was going to be treated as such, on both sides of the border.
Finally a pair of uniformed women entered and led her to a smaller room, one Jamie knew was used for searches. She was expecting an order to strip down after they unlocked her cuffs but they simply left the room instead, mumbling something about ridiculous orders in French and closing the door. 
She no longer had any idea of what was going on but she started thinking it might be better to not stick around to find out. Her hand had touched the door handle when it turned and another woman stepped in, this one in a suit and glasses.
“Emmy!”
“Shhh.” Emily put a finger to her lips and motioned her to follow, leading her past the lady officers and out to a waiting car, the same car they had used the night before. The tinted-windowed door was opened for her and she climbed in to find Michael there, his face with a stern look that hinted at disappointment, a look he must have stolen from Ferro.
“Michael!” The fear and anxiety she felt and stress she had been under came bubbling to the surface and she started crying, falling into his comforting arms in a flood of relief.
“Michael, I’m so sorry! I was trying to keep you safe and lead them away from you, but I got caught trying to get on the train. I thought I could slip through but I failed and-“
“Shh....” He hugged her tight and rocked her gently as she cried, smiling softly at her confession. “You did fine, Jamie. I’m proud of you. It took a lot of guts to make that decision.”
She looked up at her with teary eyes, trying to figure out how he knew it all. “You knew?”
He pulled the note from his pocket and unfolded it. “ ‘I’m sorry, but I love you so much’. It makes little sense on its own, but when you woke me up with your kiss, I figured I’d better follow you. The only reason you would disappear like that would be to draw them away from me, and the only place you could go would be back to Italy. From that point, I called Emmy to be ready to stop you at the train and then I stuck to you like glue.”
“I- I didn’t see you! I kept looking in the windows and checking behind me. I didn’t see anything at all!”
“That is what you can expect to see when I am following you.” He continued to hold her tight, his own realization of how close he was to losing her hitting home. “Jamie, you need to stop.”
“I know. I’m just trying to protect you, and as long as I’m with you, you’re in danger.”
“You think I don’t know that? That look and the words you gave me last night before passing out were the most frightening I’ve ever faced and you came very close to my killing you.”
“If you knew how dangerous I was, why didn’t you finish it?”
“Because I love you so much.” He smiled and mussed her hair, and she hugged tighter to him even as her tears subsided. “I know how you feel about me, Jamie, and I think I know the struggle that you are facing.”
“I can’t control it, Michael. Last night... Last night I did something I never thought I could do. I just couldn’t stop it.”
“You did stop it, and just in time.”
“I can’t guarantee your safety when it really counts, which is why I was leaving you to return to the agency. I need that medicine to stop it from consuming me again.”
“Then we’ll go back and get it.” His voice was calm and his confidence helped to sooth her, even as she worried about his future.
“What about you?”
“I’ll deal with whatever comes my way, Jamie. I need you to focus on doing what I tell you and leave the worrying to me. You’re not responsible for my actions.”
Jamie pulled away and sat up, wiping the last of her tears from her eyes. “And it’s a good thing I’m not, because I would need a book full of excuses.” She smiled as she started to relax, feeling better still as he smiled at the joke.
Emily had listened to it all in silence as she drove, filing it all away in her head in the way that intelligence people do. She could see the warmth in Michael’s smile; warmth he had not had even when he and Tanya had been close. He really had changed since leaving the CIA, and for the better.
“Hey! Is there a particular place you want to go?”
“Back to the safe-house, Emmy.”
“Okay. I didn’t know if you wanted dinner or something first.” She winked at him with a smile. He had trouble catching onto her idea at first but after it became clear, he nodded at her.
“Then again... Lets stop some place and get her something appropriate to wear. It would be a shame to spend a couple of days in Paris and not hit a quality restaurant. Does that sound good to you, Jamie?”
“Yeah. It’s been a tough day, so a little relaxation sounds good.”
“Okay then. I know just the places for you two.” Emily made the next turn, thumbing her phone to call Katherine and let her know she was going to be late that evening.

The evening had been one of fine dining, at least by their standards, and even a bit of dancing, something Jamie had to help Michael along with for the most part. For someone as old as he was, he knew nothing of dancing, though his wine knowledge seemed to be up to par. The meal had been the second enjoyment of the evening, the first being the shopping trip.
Michael had picked out a tuxedo fairly quickly, but Jamie had sorted through numerous dresses with Emily’s help before settling on a full-length black strapless number with a ball-breaking price tag. He could see that she loved it, and she certainly looked good in it, so out came the cash. He was still wincing an hour later when the pair emerged from the salon, Jamie’s hair darkened and straightened with a few strands set seductively in front of her brilliant blue eyes. She had gone easy on his wallet there, but it was only in preparation for the tough sting of the shoes to match the dress. 
He had managed to be effectively fleeced by the Parisian merchants in his time there, if nothing else, but the smile on her face and way she looked at him were all of the proof that he needed that it was money well spent. Maybe she was the most spoiled of the cyborgs, but damn if she didn’t perform brilliantly when he really needed her. He didn’t even let the knowledge of the night’s coming event spoil his mood. It would only serve to stress her unnecessarily, something he wanted to avoid until he could no longer avoid it.
Emily dropped them off a little after ten and Michael escorted her up the stairs to the apartment, holding the doors in a gentlemanly manner and generally doing things that kept her smiling. 
“Michael...” She stopped at the apartment door, turning to face him with her soft smile. “Tonight- I really enjoyed tonight.”
“Me too.”
“I know I’m not the woman you would like to be seeing in front of you right now, but-“
He cut her off with a finger to her lips, his other hand brushing the strand of hair from in front of her eyes.
“Jamie, we’ve talked this over before.”
“I know, and it’s not like that. What I want to say is ‘thank you’.  I can see that it’s painful to you at times, but you never let it ruin the effort you put into making me smile. If she were here tonight, I would bow out and let you keep it for yourselves, but she’s not, and it takes the strongest, bravest, most handsome man in the world to spend an evening like tonight with a woman he can’t share it with in the same way.” She rolled her eyes and thought about what she had said and if it had come out the right way. The look on her face was cute, especially given the depth of what she had just said to him, and he could almost feel the nervousness in her body from the emotional energy within her.
He didn’t know what made him do it, but somehow it seemed okay at that moment to pull her close to him, lifting her chin with the gentle touch of his hand, and place a soft kiss on her cheek. The act shocked her at first; a sudden departure from Michael’s normal persona, but with the feel of his lips and his body so near, she could not help but close her eyes and wish it would last forever.
It had to end eventually, and when the moment passed, he actually blushed slightly with an apologetic look.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Everyone needs to be indulged at some time. It’s the only way we can appreciate what we have in our normal day.”
He let her slip from his arms and then went to the door, unlocking it with the key and swinging it open, gesturing her in front of him with his arm. Her hand patted his shoulder appreciatively as she passed, slipping gently down his chest and inside his tuxedo jacket, coming out with his Browning and swinging it to bear on the inside of the room, her eyes cold slits and locked on the people that were inside waiting for them.
Michael looked past her to where her muzzle was pointed and let a startled gasp escape his lips, though he really should not have been surprised.
“You make good time, Victor. Somehow, somewhere deep inside, I knew they would send you.”
Hilshire was sitting in the living room chair, casual as could be, but Triela had her shotgun pointed at Jamie, a picture that was not quite a repeat of a few nights before with Petrushka. The primary difference from that was in the look in the cyborgs’ eyes, both sets locked on each other with no concern for friendship or confusion. They would fire without hesitation if ordered to.
“You’re not easy to track down.” He stood and stepped over to Michael, offering a friendly hand in greeting, a hand that Michael accepted.
“Jamie, stand down.” She glanced over to make sure he was serious and then did as she was told, thumbing the hammer of the Browning forward to engage the safety and setting it on the nearby table. Triela followed suit, letting the hammer down on the shotgun carefully and slinging it on her shoulder, flipping one of her pigtails back over her shoulder before she sat on the back of the couch.
“I’ve had some business here in Paris.”
“I trust you’ve finished by now.”
“Not quite.” Michael pulled off his jacket and bowtie, trying to get comfortable again after the long afternoon and evening, then noticed Jamie was still standing there in her dress and just as uncomfortable as himself. “Jamie, why don’t you go change clothes, and take Triela with you. Victor and I have to talk shop for a little while.”
Jamie glared at Triela momentarily, but shrugged and waved the girl to follow, closing the door after she passed. When it had latched shut, Michael stepped to the small kitchen and poured Hilshire and himself a drink, alcohol being the best way to work up to the conversation he had in mind.
“Thanks.” Victor could see the hesitation in Michael face, a hesitation that showed that a lot of thought was hiding behind the mask. He sipped his drink and watched Michael as he nursed his and leaned against the refrigerator, eyes focused on the windows to the world outside.
It took forever for Michael to figure out the right way to approach it. He could hear the muffled sounds of the girls talking on the other side of the wall, perhaps discussing the evening Jamie had, or maybe the way they had evaded capture. It was irrelevant girl-talk but it would cover the things he had to say.
“How much would you say it’s worth, Victor?”
“What?”
“The life of a murderer. The life of a person who rapes and slaughters his victims... Women, children... People we know, people we don’t know...” He took another sip of his drink and let his hatred of such people slip out a little into his body language. “How much would you say such a person is truly worth in the grand scheme of things? Is it worth the costs of a jail-cell and a court? Is it worth the price of a rope?”
Hilshire grunted and downed the rest of his glass, then stepped over to pour another. “Maybe. It would depend on the depth of the crime...” He could tell that Michael was referring to the criminals he sought. “Of course, you would have trouble finding a rope in Europe for that express purpose.”
“How about twenty cents?” He pulled a forty-caliber cartridge from his pocket and set it upright on the counter. “Do you think that would about cover the sins of such a man?”
“Yes... Yes I do.”
Michael walked to the window and looked out on the street, tossing back the last of his drink, a pensive act that Hilshire chose not to interrupt. Michael would explain in his own time.
“I’ve wounded him. I’ve cut him deep, down to the ego, and he will come for me in time. I want to keep him off-balance and reacting to my moves. I want him reacting irrationally until I drop the hammer on him.”
“Such things are often easier said than done.”
“Yes, but this time I have what I need.” He stepped to a box by the couch and pulled a tape from it, offering it to Hilshire. The older man glanced at it, the wonder of what it all meant obvious in his eyes.
“What is this?”
“Something I found in a library of death- one of the many lives tossed away. I don’t believe Amherst made that tape, since it was while he was still in the military, but I’m pretty certain he was mentored by the person who did.”
The look he gave Victor told him that it was his property- that he had paid for it in some way. The understanding was slow in coming because it was hard to accept, but if Michael was offering it to him, it meant that he was certain.
“My Triela?” The label on the edge said ‘Amsterdam-2000’.
“Her past belongs to no one else now, so do what you want with it. I’m asking two things for it in return, however.”
Hilshire could scarcely believe it. He was now confronted with something he had given up hoping for; the piece of evidence he needed to shed some light on Triela and her past, and to track down the last of those who were responsible.
“Tell me.”
“I want you to take the rest of these and give them to people who will make things happen with them. I want every cop in Europe looking for Amherst and his people.” The anger started slipping from the grip he had on its reigns, causing his voice to darken. “I want them running in fear, Victor. I want them feeling as trapped and hopeless as their victims had been. I want them coming to me in the hopes that by stopping me, they might survive. And when they find me, I will crush them.”
Hilshire felt the hatred from Michael and knew that he would succeed where the others had failed. Even if he died in the process, Amherst would be punished for what he had done. His voice came in a whisper that reflected his own buried rage. “It is done. What is the other thing?”
“I know where they’re going tonight. They have another film scheduled, and I know where it’s going to happen. We have a chance to save a few lives tonight, to prevent the creation of more of this filth, and with or without you, I am going to try.”
Something made Hilshire hesitate in his response, but it wasn’t as if the offer needed any thinking over. Unless they acted, more living, breathing, innocent people would be lifeless shells before the sun rose again. He had to help because he could not knowingly sit by and let such a thing happen. 
No, the hesitation he felt came from Triela, and how she might react to such a scene. She would fight the injustice on her own intellectual level; killing men who would do the thing that ruined her previous life. But what would be her reaction to the scene? Would she, could she, have a flashback to her own encounter? Could she keep going in spite of it?
Victor glanced up at the determined face of Michael and knew that he had to go through with it, if only to be able to look himself in the mirror. It was a good mission, probably the most worthwhile mission he had ever taken on in his time with the agency, and if he skipped out on it he would regret it. He also knew that Triela would feel the same.
“I’m in, Christiansen.”

	The night air was cold and filled with an eerie calm, the likes of which Michael had not felt or heard since the night he had found Jamie and her friends. The feel was identical, in fact, and the only way he was able to tell the difference between the nights was to reach out and touch Jamie’s shoulder, making sure that she was still there. His senses tingled with apprehension, excitement, and the cautious fear that comes from the final moves against the most dangerous opponents. Tonight would determine their fate together. 
Amherst was going to show with his cronies and designs on making another film; the images recorded with the blood and screams of yet more innocents. It was something neither he nor Jamie could stand by and allow to happen, regardless of their own outcomes.
“It- it feels the same...” There was a tangible sadness to her whisper. He did not need to see her face to know the pained expression on it- the sad look from the memories of a night gone horribly wrong and the sights associated with it.
“Explain.” His experience told him that her mind was in dangerous waters- her skills and decision making both likely to suffer unless she talked it out.
“It feels like that night. It was cold... Dark... The air was still, as if the fates were holding their breath. I knew something was wrong...” Her voice quivered as a sudden chill ran through her body.
“Yeah, I felt it too.”
“I don’t know if I can do this, Michael. It’s all too much.” Jamie leaned into a sliver of light from the boarded-up windows behind them, her eyes displaying the fear that she felt. Michael stroked her cheek with his fingers in that way that seemed to calm her, watching as she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm her heart and let the fear ripple its way from her nerves and out through her body.
“I know you can do this, Jamie. More innocent people are going to die if we don’t.”
“I know. I just can’t shake the fear from inside me and I’m afraid it will make me seize up.”
“Jamie...” His arm slipped around her and pulled her tightly to him in a comforting way. “Don’t worry about that. What’s important is the reason we fight, and how we support each other. What ever happened to that girl who knew no bounds?”
“She’s exhausted from bullet holes, explosions, and the constant level of stress from being a fugitive.”
There was a joke in her words somewhere; a sign that she knew well enough to keep going in spite of anything getting in her way.
“Well, after tonight we should be able to sleep better. Either we get our targets or we die trying.”
“Stop being so cynical. You know it’s my job to protect you. I might die, but you won’t.”
“Not tonight. Tonight you are to engage the targets and not let up until they are dead or no longer a threat. That’s an order you will not disobey, you read me?” There was forcefulness in his voice that made it clear that she must obey it, lest his wrath be the thing to descend upon her.
“Yes, yes I understand. I will engage regardless of your situation. You had better not get yourself in so deep that I have to break my word to save you!” She poked his chest for emphasis before turning back to watch the doors of the warehouse.
“I promise I won’t.”

“Christiansen, we’re about five minutes out.” Hilshire’s voice crackled over the radio earpiece. “Four men in a plain van just grabbed a pair of girls from the club. I’m tailing them carefully towards your location. Be ready.”
Michael responded with two clicks and looked at Jamie again, checking to make sure she was able to work. Her eyes had narrowed and the weakness was stricken from her face by her calm impassiveness.
“It’s time Jamie. It’s time we brought this to an end.”
“Yes, sir.” She stood and silently slipped into the darkness to the set of crates she had chosen for her hiding place.
As Michael looked around at the dark recesses of the warehouse, he mentally went through the vague plan they were operating under. They would allow the beasts to set up for the film, whereupon Hilshire and Triela would pull up in the car outside to block their retreat, lay down crossfire on them, and distract them from the more determined attack that Michael and Jamie would open with. With any luck, the victims would have enough sense to duck at the first sign of trouble, though even if they froze, they would probably not be in a position of danger. The slime tended to like their victims drugged and unconscious leading up to the action.
“Jamie.”
“Yes.”
“Is it too complicated?”
She paused at the other end of the radio, considering the situation.
“No. No, it’s fine. Have faith. God is on our side because He hates evil too.”
She was leaning more and more towards her religious ramblings of late, and while it concerned him, it also made him realize that she was seeking her own strengths again. The fusion of her past with her present was developing a person of incredible strengths and skill, with the drive and resolve to match. Her previously unsure nature as a cyborg was now entirely giving way to the strengthened and determined woman she had been.
“Yeah...”
They waited the minutes in silence- the seconds on his watch ticking away slowly. Waiting was always the worst thing before the action. The mind unconsciously scanned through all of the potential failure points of a plan and brought them to the front to be checked against the logical part of the brain. The only thing a person can do is push them aside as something that simply cannot be changed so late in the game.
Michael pushed another worry from his head just as a vehicle pulled up out front, the slamming of a car door and the clack of the warehouse door latches meeting his ears, even over the pounding of his own heart. The door slid open and a strong flashlight swept the visible portion of the room, quickly looking for anything out of place before motioning the vehicle to pull inside.
It was a plain white van, the same as he had seen in the edge of the video, and the same as had passed by him on the street the night he found her, he realized. He had been so close to them on that night and never knew it.
The van stopped and the warehouse door was closed, and the headlights provided enough light for the four men to begin setting up their equipment. The first thing out were several sets of halogen lamps, generic ones that they planned on leaving at the scene, just as they had before. Their intensity was trained on the space near the van and created a deadly zone of darkness that favored his and Jamie’s approach from behind the lights.
“Where the fuck is the boss?” The set up had slowed as the men had fewer things to do, prompting them to start relaxing before the real show began. “He was supposed to meet us here.”
A second man slid open the side door of the van and gazed wistfully at the pair of young women lying inside.
“He’s probably getting some extra gear from Marty. You know how he loves to get every angle.” He reached out and fondled an unconscious girl for a minute before turning to the others. “Okay... We draw straws for order and take the same bets as last time. That okay, Leo?”
The first man stepped over and appraised the girls before nodding. “Sounds good.”
“Okay, Franz, Dieter, take a look. I don’t want anyone claming they didn’t get a chance to view the goods before the bets.”
The other two moved closer and observed the girls a moment before stepping back and pulling out some cash.
“What is the bet?”
“Which one is the cherry.”
“That’s easy, Zeke,” Leo exclaimed. “The brunette. Blondes are always craving a fuck. There’s no way that one would get through school without a few rides.”
The others nodded their heads in agreement, but one of the Germans chose to break with the others.
“Three hundred says the blond gets popped tonight.”
“You really want to go that route, Dieter? If we all choose the mouse and are wrong, it all goes in the pot for next time. The last time in Paris, we were all wrong and it was the red. Damned Goth chicks.”
“Tommy took the pot in Munich, remember. Almost two thousand Euros...”
“See? If you break with us on this, you’ll have to cover your amount for each of us.” Leo was apparently all about the money.
“I will stick with my choice. I can spot them, friends, without fail.”
“Okay... Do you two want to change bets?”
Franz and Leo shook their head, sealing the stakes.
“Right. Lets get the camera out and get the steaks warmed up.” Zeke went to a box and pulled out a large video camera, handing it to Franz. Leo slapped a girl roughly awake before dragging her from the van by her blonde hair.
“Michael...” Jamie’s whisper over the radio sounded strained with pain. “Michael, now?”
“Hold on, Amherst isn’t here yet. We have to wait.”
“I don’t think I can. I’m going to-“ There was a stifled cough from her direction and he could hear her retch, making every effort to be quiet in the process by tucking deeper into the boxes. Michael’s eyes watched the targets for any signs of hearing her, but they went on about their business of slapping and pawing the girls.
“Shit.” He tapped his radio. “Victor, stand to. We move in two.”
“Affirmative.” 
He strained to see and could just make out Jamie wiping her mouth with the back of her glove and glaring at the scene unfolding in the lights. It was dredging up strong memories for her and she was struggling, understandably, with her mind and body’s reactions to it.
There was a loud slap of hand against face and a cry sounded from a girl, followed by some of the most colorful French Michael had ever heard. Another slap followed and the brunette slammed against the van hard, dazing her. As Leo closed in to extract more from her, the tone of a phone ringing sounded over the noise.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Zeke pulled it from his pocket and listened carefully for a moment. “What? What do you mean you not going to show? We have two prime pieces here waiting for you! Uh-huh... Shit! Right, we’re on it.” He put it away and glared at the others. “Amherst just bailed on us!”
Michael glanced at the time and then at Jamie, seeing that she was ready to move in the forty seconds that were left.
“What?”
“He said that the cops are on their way, and that we’re to kill the girls and get the hell out fast.”
The others were stunned for a moment at the change in plans, but their fear of capture quickly took hold and they started tossing things into the van. It was a prime distraction and Michael’s gun came up with twenty seconds still left on the clock. 
Leo pulled an MP5-SD from the seat of the van and turned towards the girls, smiling as they began to realize just what was happening to them. When he racked the bolt, Michael knew he was out of time.
“Go, Jamie!”
He started running towards the targets and his gun came up, the green-tritium dots lining up on one of the Germans and holding steady as he closed the distance. The sounds of his and Jamie’s feet alerted the targets and they began to turn, their hands reaching for their guns. 
When the range was only fifty feet, Michael opened up with a pair that went left past the German. He quickly dodged behind a crate and steadied his hands against it, trying to get something resembling accuracy from his excited nerves. The man, Franz, brought his Beretta M93 up and fired several shots into the crate, peppering it in the hopes of hitting Michael through it. A single round ripped through Michel’s jacket sleeve, but his eyes were locked on his front sight and he squeezed off a pair of rounds through the man’s head, dropping him where he stood. He turned to address another target- the man called Zeke, and caught a glimpse of Jamie rushing towards Leo, firing fast and with a look of absolute rage on her face. 

Jamie wiped the bile from her mouth and gazed at the scene again, hating herself for even attempting to watch it without emotion. She had been there, had felt the fear and hopelessness, and knew exactly what the girls were thinking: It was the question of why they were chosen. She had survived and come to understand that there was no reason at all, at least not one any normal human can understand, and it was only by twisting her mind and opening up a gaping wound for her darker nature to infect, that she was able to know the motives. 
“Terrible, isn’t it?”
It was Janet, struggling to get through and take control again. This was something Jamie could not allow, so she focused on calming her nerves with breathing exercises. There was no time to play mind games with her self, and she would not strand Michael in the middle of a firefight, not when the stakes were so high. She blocked out the voice inside her mind as best she could, hoping it would take the hint.
A girl was struck and slammed against the van, but a phone rang, stopping further attack from the assailant. She listened as the conversation went on and the situation changed, a change that Jamie found herself wishing had come to her and her friends. Perhaps these girls cowering in the lights would die, but it would be before they had to suffer as she had- watching her friends ripped apart to the sounds of laughter. They would die mercifully quick and painless, perhaps the best way to die if you’re not playing the game for keeps.
“No,” she whispered to herself. “I will not let them die. I will protect them.” The other her wanted to be petty about it, arguing that there is no Savior or Protector because she did not receive one when she wanted one. It was this belief that fueled her anger; something Jamie knew was simply the wrong way to think about it. 
There had been a savior, and it was Michael. He had saved her life, given her a home and family again, and taught her how to find enough strength, skill, and ingenuity to survive in a life of dangers. Somewhere in all of what she had learned in the past year, she had found a way to justify it all. The killing, the dangers... It was all something she took in stride because it made her strong enough to do something she had always wanted, even before the night she had officially died. 
She now had a duty: one beyond the agency, and even Michael. She would be the protector and savior of these women. She had not had one when she really needed it, but she could be one for the women in front of her. Killing people that had hurt her was just icing on the cake.
A sub-machine gun was leveled and the bolt clacked shut, a smile on the man’s face.
“Jamie, GO!”
The order made her leap into action and start running towards the targets, her gun in hand and leveled at the man with the machine gun. They began to turn at the sounds of running feet and Leo started to bring the gun down on her form, and Jamie knew she had to take whatever shot she had. The trigger broke clean but her rapid movement shook the front sight to the left, throwing the shot just past his shoulder and into the van. 
Leo triggered off a burst but was moving to the side to seek cover, his shots spreading out and his gun firing so quietly that Jamie could only tell she was in danger from the flash of the muzzle and the sounds of the bullets whizzing past her. She fired rapidly as he moved to her right, still closing the distance at a run. A shot caught him on the arm and made him jerk involuntarily from the pain, slowing his movement and allowing her to steady her sights at last as she stopped and knelt to take aim. He was caught square in her sights and the bullet would travel through the bridge of his nose, killing him instantly as soon as she finished the movement of the trigger.
There was a momentary hesitation as she reveled in the moment of justice, but that moment was imperceptible to anyone else as it was a fraction of a second until the weapon’s sear dropped and the hammer was freed, streaking forward and colliding with the firing pin, and in turn, the cartridge primer. 
The silence was deafening, the lack of motion or recoil that is normally associated with the firing taking time to filter through Jamie’s senses, finally resulting in the realization that the shot was a dud. She blinked and looked at the gun, stunned, as it happened at the worst possible moment.
The sub-machine gun was coming up again and Jamie had little time to react. The burst was triggered off and she spun right and dropped to the floor, feeling a round rip through her left arm as she moved off of the axis of attack. She banged her hand on the back of the gun as she rolled and tried firing again in the hopes it had simply not gone entirely into battery, but there was still no shot, not even a click from the striker. It dawned on her that she had to reset it by racking the slide, which she did as soon as she climbed to her knees behind a crate. The dud cartridge popped free, but the slide locked open on the empty magazine, the result of losing her round count as she had fired in anger.
Mistakes were starting to pile up on her and that knowledge became a distraction as she fumbled her spare magazine, dropping it to the floor and seeing it skid a few feet away into the open. Leo peppered the crate with bullets, most of which ripped through, narrowly missing Jamie as she thought quickly of how to escape her jam.
Leo’s gun stopped firing, the metallic clank indicating a jam or an empty magazine, the only opening Jamie was going to get that night. She dropped her gun and leaped to her feet, charging the man as he tried to reload with the spare magazine he had coupled to the empty one, his movements slowed by the injured arm. 
Her left hand caught the muzzle as the magazine clicked home and she jerked it towards her, driving her right fist under his chin and into his throat, collapsing the trachea and staggering him back with the force of the attack. There was curious choking gurgle from his lips as he released the gun and fell backwards, clasping his hands around his neck and trying desperately to breathe. 
A movement caught her eye and she instinctively ducked away as a crowbar was swung at her by one of the Germans. He swung it again and she narrowly dodged it, the steel slamming into the hood of the van with a loud bang and embedding itself in it. Dieter jerked hard on the bar but it refused to come free, giving Jamie more than enough time to take advantage of his mistake. 
She recovered from her dodge in a crouch and when the bar became stuck, she switched the MP5 into her right hand, slapped the bolt with her left to chamber a round as it came up, and nearly lifted the man off his feet as she jabbed the suppressor under his chin. Her eyes met his for an instant and she felt the fear within him, and a feeling of satisfaction warmed her even before the three-round burst covered her face with spray from his head. 
A body fell to the floor next to her and she looked down to find the unconscious Zeke at her feet, his nose smashed in by Michael’s palm. Michael was still standing, gasping for air and holding a six-inch knife that Zeke had pulled and tried to stick him with. His eyes met Jamie’s, breaking her from her inaction, and she looked at the nearly headless body she was holding for a moment before dropping it to the floor beside its friends.
The large warehouse door slid open hard and Triela was there with her shotgun, expecting anything but what she found, and Michael and Jamie just glared at her as the excitement started to seep out of their bodies, neither able to say anything after such a fast and tough fight.
Hilshire stepped past her into the lights and looked at the scene without emotion. When Michael had given the go-code, he and Triela had been sitting in the turned off car, still readying for the action. The pair had eliminated the threats in the time it had taken them to start the car and drive the block to the warehouse, the total time being less than two minutes. It said a lot for the way that they worked together, but less for himself and Triela, and he was probably going to hear about it from her.

It was some time before the two felt like moving from where they stood. Whatever reflections they were making in their heads they kept to themselves, looking around at the blood and carnage beside them and trying to figure out what to do next. 
One of the evening’s intended victims, the brunette, finally broke her stunned silence and stared reacting to what she had witnessed, looking around in a panic and whimpering incoherently in French. Her eyes focused on Jamie’s face, covered with blood and matter, and she recoiled in horror, crawling backwards until she bumped against the semi-conscious form of Leo, her attacker. 
The blonde was looking around at the people still standing, her emotions beyond feeling anything but acceptance of whatever was going to happen to her. Triela stepped over and bent down to check her for injuries that may have occurred during the shooting.
“It’s okay. You’re safe now, we’re not going to hurt you.”
The compassion in her voice brought Jamie back from her fueled aggression, and the sudden rush of pain from her wound made her wince and step backwards away from the mess she had made. Michael was behind her immediately and wrapped his arms around her protectively, though his touch did not seem to comfort her much. In spite of being among friends, she felt alone at that moment.
“The police will be here soon, Michael. We need to leave.” 
“Yeah. Get the girls into your car and drop them off at the nearest police station.” He leaned close and whispered in Jamie’s ear, “Get your gun and mags, and wipe down that gun as best you can. We’ll ditch it someplace safe.”
“Yeah, okay Michael.” Her voice was flat and emotionless, perhaps a product of the night’s emotions eating up her strength. The brunette had calmed down as they had discussed taking her and the friend to safety, and she gave Jamie a long look as she bent down to pick up the MP5 from where it had fallen from her hands. As Jamie met her eyes, she felt bad that she could not summon any kind of reassuring look to give away.
“I hope you understand just what we have saved you from tonight.” Her French was clean and proper, perhaps a surprise to the girl who had been listening to everything else being spoken in English. “These men... these things... they deserve no pity or remorse. What we have done to them is nowhere near as deplorable as what they did to me and my friends...”
“Jamie! That’s enough. Do what I told you.” She had told the girl enough to get the Parisian cops after them specifically, assuming they had a brain among them to piece it together.
“Yes, sir.” Jamie could see something akin to an understanding in the girl’s eyes. “I think I’ve said enough anyway.” 
She stepped away to pick up her gun and Michael helped the girl up from the floor, noticing the bruising on her face and some blood splatter on her dress.
“If you have any appreciation for what has just happened, then you’ll keep quiet about it for a few hours. And keep any names you’ve heard out of it. My friends and I can’t afford to answer any questions.” 
The girl nodded but said nothing as he handed her off to Hilshire.
“We’ll drop them off and head to the meeting point. Don’t make me wait.”
“I won’t. We just have a few things to tidy up around here before we leave.” He glanced over his shoulder at Jamie, who was returning with her weapon, having reloaded it and tucked it away safely.
“Be careful, and don’t get caught.”
They loaded the girls in the back of the car and climbed in, pulling away quickly. The sound of their engine faded and Jamie turned to Michael, her eyes now showing she was back to business. 
“I recognize these two...” She pointed at Leo and the very-dead Franz. “The other two I don’t know. They’re probably pick-ups from after the Milan raid.”
“Yeah.” Franz obviously wasn’t talking, but Leo might have something to say, assuming his throat still worked. “Go and bring the car around. We’re taking him for a ride.”
“And him?” She nodded at Zeke who was moaning as he started to come around.
“Kill him.”
Michael tossed the car keys in the air and Jamie snatched them as she passed, callously drawing her gun and putting a bullet in Zeke’s head as she walked by. 
It only took a few minutes for her to retrieve the car from where they had stashed it, time Michael used to tie up Leo and clean up a little of the scene. There was no way to get all of the casings they had fired, but the fewer pieces of evidence, the better it would be for them. She helped him load the man in the trunk and they pulled away and turned a corner, just catching a glimpse of a police car hauling ass down the street from the other end. 
A few strategic turns had them feeling ten times safer and Michael drove casually through the city to a place where the river was deep and the car could be shoved in. It was a fairly deserted place, but it was only a ten minute run to the nearest train station that had a line to Orly airport. 
They retrieved everything of theirs from the car and Michael had a talk with Leo while Jamie cleaned herself up. By the time she had changed clothes and wiped the blood from her face and hands, Michael was done talking.
“Wait, Michael!” She rushed over before he could close the trunk. The man was still alive, and she knew it was Michael’s intention to send him into the drink that way. There was something she had to say before they gave him his send-off.
“You know who I am?”
“Yes...”
“My friends... They were all I had in this world. What you did- Well, I’m not going to pray for your soul this time, Leo. It didn’t work the first time, so I guess I’ll just have to let you have fun burning in Hell.”
“Bitch!” He spat at her and made his mark on her face, but she refused to give him anything in the way of a reaction, refusing to be a victim any longer.
“I’ll push it in, Michael. It’s my right.”
“Sure. Bye, Leo. When you see Tommy, tell him I said ‘Fuck you very much’.” He started to close the trunk but Leo’s phone started ringing, and something in Michael’s head told him who it would be. “I can’t pass this up...”
He pulled it from Leo’s pocket and flipped it open. “Bonjour!”
“Christiansen...” If hatred could drip from the earpiece, it would have at that moment.
“Oh, hi there, Amherst. It’s funny- Leo and I were just talking about you. You know, it’s amazing how much a person will talk when you explain how they were screwed by someone they trusted. Leo has it in his head that you sold him and the boys out. I’m not sure what put that in his head, but he sure as hell thought it sounded like you.”
“I see... Well, Martin was supposed to hire some people to take care of them for me, but it seems like you took to that task fairly well. I have to say that I’m impressed.”
“It seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up. Just send me a check by mail, you know where to find me.”
“Indeed I do.”
“I’ve destroyed most of your organization now, Amherst. There are only a few more left before you and I come face to face, so I want you to think up something really clever to say as you stare down the barrel of my gun. Last words are important, I should think.”
“I see you’re finally playing my game.”
“No, the game we’re playing is mine. I’m in control now, Amherst. Tomorrow morning, half of Europe will be abuzz with your name and face. Every two-bit hack with a badge will be looking for you, and you can’t hide from them all. Even the ones you’ve paid off will turn on you. Think about that.”
“Do you really think I care about them? You’ve destroyed my collection, killed people I rely on, and have been a nuisance to me since the moment you became involved. And I’ve been on the run from the police for years, so why should I be concerned now?”
“Because we both know you’ll be extremely disappointed if you miss out on my finding you first. You and I have unfinished business, and neither will be satisfied until it is finished.”
“I see your point. Well, I suppose I can only wish you luck, and to tell you to watch your back.”
“And you.”
“Oh, I will.”
“Listen, I’d love to chat some more, but I’m afraid we have to be going.”
“I’ll be coming for you, Christiansen. Make no mistake about that.”
“I look forward to it, Ian. In the meantime, why don’t you and Leo have a few parting words.” 
He tossed the open cell-phone into the trunk before drawing his gun and shooting two holes in the lid. 
“Bye bye, Leo. Don’t forget your towel.”
Jamie gave Leo a victorious smirk as Michael closed the lid and motioned for her to start pushing. Her powerful legs got it moving fairly quickly before she ran out of room and it seemed to leap from the bank. They could hear Leo’s screams as the car splashed in the water and began to sink, the air rushing from the holes Michael had shot in the lid carrying the panicked voice until it went completely under, the only traces a steady stream of bubbles.
“Well, that one’s over.”
“Yes.”
Michael picked up his pack and started walking down the long, dark road, and Jamie stared at the bubbles in the water for a moment longer before picking her things up and rushing to join him. Returning to Italy and the agency’s wrath would be tough on them both, but it was a small price to pay to continue their mission.

Chapter: 31

The sun was just rising as they landed in Rome and transferred to Hilshire’s car. Victor had made no mention of how they had been an hour late to the airport and Michael figured it was because of his and Triela’s own tardiness in the action of the night. He really could not hold it against them, as everything had turned out okay in the end, and with the exception of Jamie’s arm and his own jacket, there were no casualties on their side. It was all ad-hoc in design anyway.
Jamie once again found that look on Michael’s face as he thought about how things were going to play out, but her own attempts were futile. She could tell there was some important point of information that she had missed, and it was the key as to why Michael was being so calm about all of this. They had disobeyed the agency- something he had feared before, if only for her sake. Why was this different?
The question preoccupied her until they pulled into the parking lot and were led by the other fratello straight to Lorenzo’s office, finding the man himself looking officious as usual. Hilshire sent Triela into the hall before closing the door and taking up position next to it.
“Mister Christiansen... It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He sipped his coffee and motioned Michael to the chair across from him. Jamie followed and took up a guard position to Michael’s right, holding onto the back of the chair to steady her nerves.  She had never been faced by Lorenzo in his office, and the dominant feel of the room and the man was making her uncomfortable. 
“I wasn’t expecting to be back so soon.”
“You’re a hard man to track down, that much is certain. Were you able to complete your mission?”
“Partially. We didn’t come across Amherst, but we took out a few more of his people, burned his video collection, and I made sure I gave him a bit of my trademarked irritation when I spoke to him on the phone. I also gave Hilshire a few of the movies I thought could be used to bring pressure on his organization. He has no other option but to hunt me down and destroy me if he has any interest in survival or revenge.”
“It was a bit much to hope it would go as you planned, but I’m glad to hear it was not a total waste of time and effort. Have a report of your actions on my desk tomorrow morning.”
Jamie blinked at the praise that Lorenzo seemed to be giving out and finally realized what it was she had been missing. “It was all a sham,” she whispered. “The whole escape from here was a show.”
Michael looked up at her with an amused look. “I can’t blame you for taking so long to figure it out, Jamie. The entire point was to make it look as real as possible so that if Amherst has any info leaking to him from inside here-“
“-Then he would know only that we were being chased by the agency. If we were too busy hiding, we could not strike at him.”
“Right.”
“I feel so stupid not to have figured it out.” She ran a hand through her hair and gave a frustrated sigh, feeling the built up fatigue from the whole trip weighing on her. 
“You can’t blame yourself, Jamie,” Lorenzo said from his desk. “I was the only one besides Michael who had known what was happening. For everyone else here, it was a very real attempt to desert. The only thing I did to assist was to restrict the operations in such a way that made us appear to be searching for you without actually getting anywhere.”
There was a soft laugh from Hilshire as he understood how well they had all been played. Several of the new fratello had been traipsing around Italy looking for the rogue pair, evidently in a design to give them some operational training without any actual danger or chance of succeeding. Lorenzo was a chess-master when it came to secrecy and operations.
“So I attacked that guard unnecessarily...” Until now, Jamie had felt just in doing so.
“Yes. He would have called into the office and Lorenzo would have told him to let us pass and to keep silent about it.” Which was why Michael had explicitly told her to remain in the car. It was also the reason he had been angry with her about it.
“The guard is doing well, in case you were wondering. We gave him a spot in the armory and a bump in pay to compensate him for his troubles.” The chief looked up at Hilshire and waved him out. “You can go now, Hilshire, and escort Jamie to the hospital to have her arm repaired. And good work bringing them back. ”
“Right.” He waved at Jamie to follow and closed the door after she passed.
Lorenzo waited for the door to close before giving Michael an appraising look, and Michael could feel a chill flood the room.
“Now then, Christiansen. It’s time we discuss the cost of our agreement.”

Her arm had needed only minor patchwork, something for which Jamie was grateful as she rubbed the bandages. Her fast treatment had allowed her a chance to inquire about Maria, but the nurses had told her that she was released to the dorm for the remainder of her healing. 
Jamie opened the door to their room expecting the usual excitement from the younger girl, but Maria was sitting in a chair by the window, staring out at the world in a daze. It was a long time before she turned her head to look at Jamie, and the sad, forced smile she gave broke Jamie’s heart.
“Hi.”
“Hi, Maria. How are you feeling?” She set her things down inside the door and closed it, leaning against it for support against the weak feeling she suddenly had.
“I’m okay. The doctors were kind enough to let me come back to my room to rest.” 
Maria turned slowly in the chair and pulled herself to her feet, a move that Jamie could tell involved some pain. She limped to her friend, a sign that she was acclimating to the new hip assembly that had been installed. Jamie gasped as Maria hugged her, the arms of the girl’s shirt sliding up and revealing the bandages that were wrapped nearly all the way up them. 
“Oh... It’s not pretty to look at, I know.”
“I’m sorry, Maria. I didn’t mean to-“
“I know. We’re friends, remember? You would never do anything to hurt a friend.” The hug was over and she limped to her bed. It was a strain for her to sit down and roll over to get comfortable with her book, but she never complained or let it show as the inconvenience it had to be.
Jamie picked up her gear from beside the door and started unpacking, pulling her new dress from the bag and hanging it up with a post-it note to have it cleaned. Her other clothes went into the laundry basket along with the ones she was wearing and her Walther went onto their shared desk for cleaning, along with the Springfield she had picked up in Paris.
“Hey, do you have a spare forty-five caliber cleaning brush and jag?”
“Yeah, it’s in the case with my LaFrance, under the magazines.”
The Baritone Sax case was under Maria’s bed and Jamie had it open in a moment, shocked at the weight of the weapon as she hefted it. “I didn’t know this was so heavy.”
“I never really noticed.” 
Jamie could see her looking at the book but was not really reading it. She was quiet and reserved as usual, but there was a saddening vibe from her now. The gun went back into the case and under the bed, and Jamie went back to the desk to start her cleaning process. 
She had the Springfield stripped in only a few minutes due to her lack of familiarity of the design, but it made sense to her mechanically. She started brushing the bore and decided to try Michael’s tactics in the conversation.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Hm?”
“I can feel it, Maria. You need to talk with a friend about what’s bothering you.”
Maria set down the book, carefully rolled over, and then sat up. Her face was plastered with a depressing look, one Jamie knew so well.
“It- it’s difficult. I didn’t realize what courage it required to face a slow death. All my life, I’ve known that I could die on the streets of starvation or illness, but I never thought I would have to face bleeding out like that. It was frustrating. I was helpless on the floor and had to watch what they did to those people... what they did to Mario. I couldn’t stop any of it. Then they dragged me over and started cutting me...”
Tears formed in her eyes and started to flow, something Jamie had never seen from her friend. She had always been stuck with the inability to form tears except while dreaming, just like the first generation girls. 
“Jamie, I-“ She struggled to say something else but the words could not come out. 
“I know...” Jamie went to her friend and wrapped her arms around her gently, giving support to someone who desperately needed it. “I’ve been there, Maria. We’re cyborgs, so our injuries will heal completely, but we can’t just forget it. It’s always there and waiting for a chance to make us the victim again. The only thing you can do is work hard to avoid remaining the victim, especially in your own mind.”
“It’s easy for you to say.”
“No it’s not. It takes everything inside of me to face the memories. They’ve become more and more vivid and I have to will myself through them each time before they can overwhelm me. I can smell the blood; feel the heat of the lights and the slice of the knife... Even thinking about it makes my skin crawl, but I fight it. I fight it with all that I am because if I give in to it, the evil will have succeeded in killing me. I won’t allow anyone to dictate my life to me like that.”
Maria felt Jamie’s strength as she spoke. She did not know of any other cyborg that truly believed in herself, her own self-determination, as much as Jamie, and the words lifted her a little from the dark place she felt herself to be trapped in. It was her friend’s most important skill, she realized. Jamie was an optimist throughout her body and soul, and even in the face of a dismal reality she was able to find something to latch on to and make good come of it.
She gave another weak smile for her friend’s sake, just to show that she understood and appreciated the understanding Jamie had given her. “Thanks, Jamie, but I’m not nearly as strong as you are. It’s going to take some time to sort through this.” 
She extracted herself from Jamie’s arms and stood, slipping on a coat and her shoes. “It’s a bit early for dinner, but I think I’ll go down and get a late lunch. The doctors said I need to eat more to keep my strength up.”
Jamie could sense the purpose in her escape. As comforting as it was to know that she had a friend, she just wanted to be alone.
“Okay, Maria. Do you need any help?”
“No, I’ll be fine, thanks.” 
The door closed behind her leaving Jamie with a sour feeling. Just because she had the advice to give, it didn’t mean it was capable of working miracles on the spot. Her friend would have to heal in her own time, but at least she now had something to work with.
She stepped back to her desk to continue cleaning her guns, making a note to herself to talk to Michael about it all.

The evening passed quietly enough but the empty seats at dinner the Venice attack had created, and Michael’s absence from it entirely, weighed on her heavily. No one had seen him since his meeting with Lorenzo after they had returned from Paris, though Priscilla had been strangely uncomfortable answering her inquiries. One of the guards seemed to recall seeing him heading towards his room earlier in the afternoon, so Jamie started there, taking a plate of dinner with her in case he was hungry.
She knocked hard a few times before finally getting a muffled invitation to enter. Carefully balancing the plate of food allowed her to free up a hand and open the door but she had to blink several times to see into the dark interior of the room.
“Michael?”
“Yeah... Come on in.”
Her eyes adjusted to the glow the television screen cast through the darkness and she could pick her way through the room to his desk to set the plate down. The room smelled of whiskey and it only took her a moment to locate an empty bottle lying beside him on the bed. There was an old black and white movie playing on the TV, one she vaguely remembered from flipping through channels over the years. She recognized the man on the screen, standing outside a building called “Rick’s” and smoking a cigarette as the glare of searchlights played across the scene.
“Bogart?”
“Yeah.” Michael’s voice seemed almost a hoarse whisper. Jamie’s keen ears could hear a bit of a rattle in his throat as he spoke and her instincts told her he had been crying at some point- she had a lot of practice listening to herself after all.
She stepped closer to get a better look at his face in the light that was available, finally sitting down on the end of the bed. “Which one?”
“Casablanca.”
His short responses could only mean that he was upset. His eyes were reddened from wiping at them recently and his face bore the fatigue from a hard day’s worth of drinking. She picked up the empty bottle from beside him to examine the label.
“Jack Daniels? Whatever happened to your vodka?”
“I try to keep a bottle of my good buddy Jack around for when I really need to suffer.” The slur in his speech certainly lent credence to that claim.
“Why are you getting drunk, Michael?”
“Why not?” His left hand appeared with another bottle and hoisted it to his lips to take a large swig. The whiskey dribbled a bit from his lip, making Jamie realize that it would be up to her to stop him.
“Because it’s not good for you!” She rolled over his legs and flipped to her feet, lunging and grabbing the bottle from his hand before his slowed reflexes could pull it to safety. She quickly gauged the bottle as half-empty and could figure that he was going to be seriously hung-over in the morning. That was assuming, of course, that he didn’t succumb to alcohol poisoning and need his stomach pumped sometime during the night.
“This is not good.”
“Give it back!”
“No. You need to stop this.”
“I’m ordering you to give it back!” He started to lean forward to move towards her but his balance was entirely out of whack, and what he thought was forward was more of a diagonal towards his right. “You have to follow my orders.”
“I’m programmed to follow the orders of a reasoning human being. After a bottle and a half of this stuff you really aren’t in any position to do any reasoning for yourself, let alone for me.” She stepped to the bathroom and opened the toilet lid, then took a large swig from the bottle for herself; she was certainly going to need it tonight. She then poured the rest out, tripping the lever to send it all away with a flourish of her hand.
“There... Now I know why Priscilla was so evasive today. You sent her out to get these for you.”
“She was being nice.”
“I bet.”
He was still glaring at her but she ignored it, settling down onto the bed to watch the movie. There was a box of candy on the nightstand and she took it, munching away on a handful while the police entered to take Peter Lorre away.
“When they come to get me, Rick, I hope you’ll be more of a help.”
“I stick my neck out for nobody.”
“Amen to that, brother. It only leads to trouble.” There was an exhausted and resigned tone to his voice that Jamie could not immediately comprehend. He wasn’t angry about the liquor anymore, but there was still something in his head or heart that was bothering him. 
She leaned back on her elbow and stared at him until he glanced over at her in annoyance.
“What?”
“Talk to me, Michael. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I need another bottle, thanks to you.” He managed to sit up and swing his legs off the bed, lurching to his feet and staggering into the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door as he unzipped his pants.
“Someone has to look after you, you know. I didn’t realize it at first, but ever since that morning you’ve been a wreck. Your decision-making is slow and your marksmanship has suffered. You haven’t been training at all and I can tell that you’ve gained weight.”
“You talk too much.”
“I’m just telling you the truth because I care about you.” She let that comment hang in the air until he had finished his business and stepped into the doorway, leaning against it for support. His eyes fell on the plate of food she had carried in and then screwed upwards as if he was searching his brain. Jamie knew he was trying to think of the last time he had eaten.
“I’m hungry.”
“Well, sit down on the bed there and I’ll bring it over to you. You’re in no shape to be carrying anything.”
“I’d rather sit at my desk. I hate crumbs in the bed.” He made his way to the desk and settled into the chair there, pulling the plate in front of him. It struck Jamie as convenient that Michael instinctually did things that were in his best interest, making him consciously work to do things that were a detriment. He wanted to drink his troubles away but his mind and body were steering him on a path to avoid it. 
“Fine. I’ll sit here and watch the movie, and if you need anything, you just need to tell me.”
“Okay.”
Her attention was divided between watching Paul Henreid and Claude Rains order a lot of drinks and Michael’s eating, but she found herself enjoying the feel of the movie. By the time Bogart was standing in the rain with a ‘Dear Rick’ letter in his hand, Michael had finished his plate and settled into the bed beside her. He looked a little less cranky, maybe even satisfied from his meal.
“Feeling better?”
“A little. You?”
“Sure. When you want to talk about it, let me know.” She was lying on her stomach with her head propped in her hands, kicking her feet in the air like a little girl as she watched the film, and Michael could only think that she looked cute like that.
She was waiting patiently for him to talk about his troubles, but he really did not know whether to tell her what was about to happen or not. So far, his exile from his homeland was a question of legality; his own patriotism never being in questing in either of their minds, nor those of the people who had helped him along the way. If the agency had demanded he committed an act of treason against America, he would have weighed the act carefully and likely used it as collateral to ensure his and Jamie’s escape back there. 
But his agreement with Lorenzo had required the selling of his allegiance in its entirety to the agency and the man, and that was what weighed on him. Whatever resistance he had given Lorenzo had been eliminated by his promise to unconditionally follow orders if he were allowed to take Jamie on the hunt in Paris.
“We can never, ever, go back.”
“Hm?” She turned at the sound of his voice.
“Up till now, we had a place to go if I decided to sell out the agency. Now we don’t.” 
Jamie crawled over and knelt beside him. “Explain.”
“I’ve always kept the option open to escape back to the U.S. with you by selling the agency out to Langley. I would have traded the information we both had for protection, and my ability to simply disappear whenever I really decided to was the only thing keeping Lorenzo from coming down on me entirely in an effort to cut it off. He knows I have a contingency drop arranged to guard against my sudden ‘disappearance’, so if he ever took me out, what I knew would be spilled out for the world to see. This is what it means to be a careful intelligence agent.”
“And now?”
“In order to get Lorenzo to go along with my plan for Paris, I had to agree to turn that information over, and to promise, under threat of our deaths, to go along with whatever orders he gave. This was why I was hoping that it would all have ended in Paris, so we wouldn’t have to worry about our mission any longer. But now... now we’re entirely trapped under the agency influence, and our next act seals our fate with theirs.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our next mission involves committing outright treason against the U.S, Jamie, meaning that once it’s done, we can never go back there, no matter what we know.”
Jamie thought about that for a while as she looked at him, watching the despair in his soul through the expressions on his face. His depression was from his despair over being inescapably caught in someone else’s hands to be toyed with, a situation he had never accepted, no matter how bad things had become. He always had an outlet, and now he was facing the worst possible situation without any kind of outlet through which to escape.
She pulled his head to her chest in a motherly embrace, leaning her head against the top of his.
“You know, it doesn’t really matter to me, Michael. I know that you want what is best for me, and that you had your plan in mind because of that, but I’ve never really expected to be able to escape. The fact that you had it all planned out is a credit to your resourcefulness and speaks of your love for me. Being able to escape has never truly factored into my existence as a cyborg because I’m programmed not to want to. Even when I was trying to run away, I was expecting to have to return eventually. I am sad though that you have sacrificed your own feeling of security for our lust for revenge.”
His breathing settled as she held him tight to her, and his lack of response to her embrace showed that he was content to remain there. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she continued...
“No matter what happens, you know that I love you and that I’ll stand with you. It doesn’t matter who comes after us, they can’t take any of that away because we keep it safe inside.”
He didn’t respond at all, and she realized that he had fallen asleep the moment his head had hit the warmth of her chest, the alcohol finally taking him into a drunken slumber.
“What do you do when you love someone so much, and then they fall asleep in your arms?”
Jamie carefully pulled his clothes off and settled him into bed, making sure that he was resting on his side to avoid choking in the event he started throwing up. She quickly showered and wrapped his robe around her, and then settled into the bed with him to finish the movie. As Rains and Bogart walked off into the evening, her eyes slowly closed into sleep.
“Louis... I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” 
“What a wonderful film...”

There was a meeting the next morning, and as Michael showered and shaved himself awake, Jamie watched him through the open door to the bathroom, still wrapped warmly in the blanket. His eyes, though tired and showing the sensitivity of a hangover, were still perfectly focused as the razor glided across his face with a practiced precision.
“You’re staring at me again.” He rinsed the stubble from the blade and watched her response in the mirror.
“I’m allowed to. The way you clung to me last night made me lose sleep.”
“I thought you were my pillow.” The eyes returned to the mirror.
“Do you always nuzzle into your pillow’s breasts?”
“Beer-goggles make any pillow look good.” He finished the last stroke and washed the foam from his face, jumping slightly as he felt Jamie’s hands on his shoulders, massaging gently. The face in the mirror was Tanya’s, and the mirage made him hesitate in pulling away from the girl until his mind sorted it out. 
Jamie’s saddened expression went ignored as he quickly dressed, fumbling with his tie repeatedly until finally giving up on it with a huff and tossing it onto the bed.
“Are you angry about my sleeping next to you?” She settled onto the bed again, wrapping the robe around her tightly to preserve some modesty. It felt like he was wordlessly scolding her for the decision to stay with him.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Nothing. Go back to your room and get dressed, then come to the office. I’m going to be there all day today.”
“Do you want me to bring you some breakfast...” an attempt to lighten his mood.
“No.” He opened the door and left her alone in the room to ponder over the angry look he had flashed as he answered.

Maria was rubbing her eyes as Jamie quietly opened the door and slipped inside their room, clad in Michael’s robe and carrying her clothes in her arms.
“Morning...”
“Good morning, Maria. I’m sorry to wake you.”
“It’s okay, I was waking up anyway.” Maria winced as she slowly stretched herself out on the bed, feeling the hesitation as her body started adjusting to the increased motion over sleep. It had been the same, or nearly so, at the beginning of her life as a cyborg, which was why Jamie had eclipsed her as the agency’s go-to second-generation cyborg. “I missed you last night.”
“Sorry, I took dinner to Michael and ended up staying in his room to look after him. Handlers need help too, sometimes.” Jamie slipped from the robe and started searching through their shared closet for something to wear; finally settling on the suit Michael had bought her in Venice.
“Business today?” By which Maria meant the style.
“Yeah. We’re spending the day in the office, so I thought I’d dress for it. Is it too much?”
“No. I think you look good in it.”
As Jamie smoothed out her blouse she caught another sad look from Maria, and her seeming lack of will to do anything seemed a continuation of the previous afternoon.
“It’s Mario, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“That look... It says that you and Mario are still distant from each other. You aren’t talking?” Jamie zipped her skirt and pulled on her jacket, only having to glance once in the mirror to ensure it was straight. She sat down next to Maria and wrapped an arm around her shoulder for support. 
“No. In fact, he won’t even see me now. He stays in his room and tells me to go away. I know it hurts him to do it, because I can hear the fear in his voice. Why is he afraid of me, Jamie?”
“Because he is ashamed of not being able to protect you from what happened.”
“But I’m supposed to protect him!”
“I know. He knows that as well, but men like Mario and Michael... Well, they feel the need to protect us because they love us, and when they are powerless to help us it hurts them. He feels ashamed to have broken your trust in him, so even though he wants to help you now, he can’t bear the thought of facing you. He’s also probably fighting with a lack of confidence in his own ability to help you.”
“What do I do?” The pleading look in her eyes made Jamie smile warmly, a feeling brought on by her knowledge that she could actually help in that department.
“Go to him. Break down the door if you must, but make it clear to him that you love him, trust him, and expect to be able to rely on each other when you need to.” Jamie’s fist pumped with the intensity of her words, eliciting a startled look from Maria. The confidence in her face was contagious though, and Maria suddenly felt emboldened to act on Jamie’s words and her own feelings, jumping to her feet as best she could.
“I’ll go!” 
She hobbled to the door and swung it open wide, startling Alessandro who was passing by on his way to Petra’s room. The man stared at the girl as an embarrassed face formed, the realization that she was wearing only her t-shirt and underwear suddenly flashing through her mind.
Jamie came to the rescue quickly, pulling Maria away from the door and moving to block any further view he might have.
“Sorry, Mister Ricci, I’m afraid this area is off-limits.”
“Oh?” He returned Jamie’s polite smile and nodded, continuing on his way down the hall. “I’ll remember that next time.” 
“He’s gone now, Maria. Put some clothes on and go back to your mission.”
The girl gave an embarrassed smile that showed the confidence she had gained was measurably decreased. “I’ll try.”