Sex: Yup.

Violence: That too.

Angst: Probably.

This story is going to be slightly long, but I promise itīll be updated frequently. (Thereīs nothing worse than having to wait, is there?) Okay, since all thatīs been taken care of, Iīll just shut up and let the tale begin. Comments are welcome at: dayze11@hotmail.com

Copyright © 1999 by Day

Part 11

Chapter Forty-Seven

Frowning, Jo went through her duffle bag one more time, then dropped to her knees to check under the bed. Still nothing. Scratching her cheek, she let her eyes survey the bedroom as she called out, "Mickey! Have you seen my black sweater? You know the one you like to wear. I canīt find it."

Footsteps sounded and a few seconds later, Mickey poked her head in, smiling a little oddly, "I might have seen it. Why?"

"Well, I need it." Jo tossed the bag onto the bed. "The jeep is coming to pick me up in less than a hour. I have to get ready."

"Hmm…" Mickey smiled again, absently letting a finger trail over the coarse wood of the doorframe. "What if, theoretically speaking, your sweater had decided that itīd rather go home with someone else?"

"What?" Jo stared at her, then suddenly she smiled. "Oh, I see... Well, if thatīs what it wants, then who am I to stand in its way."

Mickey gave her a big smile in return, "I was hoping you would say that." Then she turned around and went back out to the kitchen to finish cleaning the remaining dishes from breakfast.

Jo looked at the empty doorway for a moment, then she put her right hand into her jeans pocket, searching briefly before pulling out a thin silver chain. Holding it up into the light, she studied it thoughtfully. It was her old ID-chain from Vega 3. Inside the chain was a tiny metal thread, hardly thicker than a hair, containing her serial number and presumed date of birth. It was something they had all had while growing up, but they rarely used it and she couldnīt remember the last time she had worn it. Instead she had kept it as some kind of talisman, as a link back to the relatively peaceful life she had known in camp.

It wasnīt exactly romantic, but it was all she had, and if Mickey wanted a memento…

Making sure she was still occupied in the kitchen, Jo quickly walked over to the bag Mickey had deposited against the wall. Unzipping it, she removed a few pieces of clothing, grinning lasciviously to herself when she came across some of her loverīs more revealing lingerie. That had been an interesting night to say the least.

Sighing, she pushed the thoughts away. Those were memories she would have to dwell on later, and being faced with another long period apart, she had no doubts they would be needed. Finding a clean t-shirt, she unfolded it and placed the chain inside it before rolling it back together. Then she put all the clothes back and closed the bag again.

Returning to her own bag, she tied it shut and was about to bring it out into the living room when a quiet voice behind her spoke, "The jeepīs here."

Jo straightened imperceptibly, her grip on the bag tightening slightly, "Thatīs early."

"Yes." Mickey waited until Jo had turned around to face her before she spoke again, attempting to smile without much success. "Timingīs never been one of the Organisationīs strong suits."

"True…" Jo answered, trying to smile herself. She wanted to say more, but couldnīt find the words and a heavy silence fell between them as they looked into each otherīs eyes. "I…" Jo cleared her throat softly. "I think that maybe we should say goodbye in here instead of outside."

This time Mickeyīs smile was more genuine. "Are you afraid to have your reputation as a belligerent, tough as nails, badass soldier ruined?"

Jo raised an eyebrow in surprise, then grinned, "Yeah, maybe I am. I donīt think a public display of me holding you in my arms and declaring my undying love would go over too well with the men. And even if it did, they would never let me live it down. Iīd be finding all sorts of weird stuff in my bed for months."

"In that case," Mickey spoke quietly, looking intently into Joīs eyes as she closed the distance between them. "How about a private display instead?"

"That I can do." Jo dropped the bag and opened her arms for Mickey who accepted the invitation, slipping her arms around her lover in return and holding her close against her.

"This is good," Jo whispered into Mickeyīs hair and she nodded in agreement, holding on just a little tighter. "Yes, it is."

They held onto each other for several moments, then reluctantly Jo pulled away a little, reaching up to tenderly stroke Mickeyīs cheek with her knuckles, "Iīm gonna miss you."

Mickey swallowed hard, blinking away tears she didnīt want Jo to see, "Iīm going to miss you, too." Managing to smile, she began to play idly with Joīs collar for a few seconds before looking back up into her eyes, "Youīll take care of yourself, wonīt you? Not do anything stupid?"

"Iīll be careful," Jo promised seriously. "And you, too, okay?" She bent down to brush her lips against Mickeyīs before speaking quietly, "Iīm not trying to be patronizing in any way, I know how strong you are and how much you can handle, itīs just… I go crazy thinking about all the things that can happen to you in the Slums, and I really hate that I canīt be there to protect you. I know-" She put a finger to Mickeyīs lips to silence any objections. "I know you can protect yourself, but I canīt help the way I feel. Itīs just the way I am. I love you and I donīt ever want anything happening to you. So… So whenever you have any doubts about something, donīt do it. At least not alone. Will you promise me that?"

Mickey nodded, not having the voice to answer.

"Thank you," Jo let out a tremulous breath. "And I promise not to do anything stupid in return."

That is, if I get any say in the matter, she added silently, wondering if she had just told her lover a lie.

"Now that this has been settled," she said with a little smile, purposely ignoring the nagging voice in her head, "I think itīs time for you to kiss me. After all, Iīm not getting any younger here."

Mickey laughed involuntarily, "Oh yeah? Well, then I better kiss you while youīre still young enough to enjoy it."

And that she did. They shared a long, loving kiss in which there was more love and devotion than passion and lust. And it wasnīt until their tongues began to delve deeper and their lips moved more insistently against each other that they broke apart, both smiling regretfully.

"I better go now, otherwise theyīll start to wonder if somethingīs wrong."

"Yes," Mickey replied quickly, moving out of the embrace and hugging herself instead. "Have a safe trip."

"Thanks." Jo bent down to pick up the duffle bag then slung it over her shoulder. "Hopefully the jeep has a working heater. Iīd hate to have to get bossy and obnoxious with them just because Iīm freezing my butt off."

A tiny grin flickered across her loverīs face, "Iīm sure theyīd hate that, too."

They stood in silence before each other for a moment, both hesitating, then Jo swiftly stepped over and kissed Mickey lightly on the cheek, "I love you."

"I love you, too. Now go on." Mickey gave her a friendly push towards the door, her voice breaking ever so slightly. "Get out of here."

Jo took a couple of steps, then paused in the doorway. She was about to turn around when Mickeyīs voice halted her, "Please, Jo… Just go, okay?"

Jo bit her lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, then she nodded and without looking back quickly walked away.

***************

The room was quiet and dark, all occupants watching the small TV set bolted to the wall. General Geraint shifted in her chair, sighing inwardly. She was still sore from the workout she had had with Messina the day before and she desperately needed to straighten out her back. However, that didnīt appear to be on the agenda for the next many hours.

She sighed again, this time loud enough for the dark man beside her to hear, and General Lentz shot her a disapproving glance which she simply ignored. Lentz was a dimwit and always would be. Mentally pulling herself together, Geraintīs eyes returned to the screen, disinterestedly watching the long lines of sombre people in the funeral procession following the black coffin through the streets of Neo Roma.

So, President Georgio Anoldi had finally passed on to a better world. Or in his case, maybe not better at all. They all knew that; it had been a long time coming. Why did they have to watch it on TV?

Quickly losing interest again, she watched as Messina leaned over to whisper something to Major Delaine who nodded before turning her head to whisper something back.

Frowning, Geraint looked away. Yesterday in the gym, during their friendly sparring and having the best intentions of the world, she had tried to make Messina understand that not everybody took kindly to her playing favourites. At least not so openly. It was unheard of, and frankly insulting to people with higher seniority, that someone as young as Delaine should already have the rank of major.

Messina had just looked at her, languidly swirling the staff she had been fighting with between her fingers. Then she calmly asked whether Geraint distrusted her judgement. Geraint had immediately heard the unspoken warning in the blondeīs voice, but had still been surprised that her superior didnīt seem defensive in the least. On the contrary. She appeared to be completely at ease and relaxed with her decision to have promoted Delaine only three days prior. Despite all the talk in the corners that had instantly followed the announcement.

Geraint had made a tactical retreat and ensured her she had complete faith in her decisions, and wouldnīt dream of questioning her judgement. Messina had just given her a beatific smile, then proceeded to beat the shit out of her.

Glancing back at the major, Geraint pursed her lips thoughtfully. She had never liked Delaine. That greenhorn had always been more trouble than she was worth.

She still remembered a certain night about three or four years ago when she and Messina had been about to enjoy some quality time together in the blondeīs bedroom only to be interrupted by Delaine who had walked right in without even knocking. When finding them in bed together, the then sergeant had turned white as a sheet and just stared at them like she couldnīt comprehend what she was seeing. Then her face had hardened and all trace of emotion disappeared and she turned on the heels and walked away without a word, not bothering to close the door.

Geraint had gotten out of bed to shut the door so they could continue what they had been doing, but to her dismay Messina seemed to have lost all interest and was distant and tense. Eventually, they got around to it anyway, but Geraint had never been able to shake the feeling that Messina wasnīt really there, that in fact she was thinking of someone else.

Suddenly Jo noticed she was being observed and a small sneer flickered across her face. Geraint grinned inwardly. Delaine didnīt like her much either.

****************

"So…" Messina gestured for Vlad to switch on the lights. He did so and then left the room. "Anoldi is now officially dead and buried. In a few days his successor will be named and we all know who that is."

There was general nodding and mumbling in the room and Messina waited until everybody had turned their attention back to her. "According to our sources, Lingstrom is likely to be sworn in at the end of this month, beginning of March at the latest. Until then the Council will be acting without an official leader. Now…" she paused, giving each of the people around the table a meaningful look. "We all remember what it was like the last time a Lingstrom held office, and I doubt any of us has the desire to experience that again."

Geraint closed her eyes briefly. She most certainly didnīt. She still had nightmares about the last one. She opened her eyes again and was surprised to find Messina looking at her, a little sad smile on her face. Geraint smiled fleetingly in return before looking away. Apparently Messina hadnīt forgotten either.

"Weīve discussed this before and I know all your arguments, both pros and cons."

Messina looked at everybody again, clearly indicating that that meant she didnīt want to hear them again.

"And I know not all of you are going to agree with my decision. However, itīs my decision to make and I have. Itīs time to act. Weīre stronger than ever before thanks to General Sawat and his weapons. We have received an enormous amount of money from people abroad who support our cause, and volunteers are coming from all over the world to join our armies. Several of the larger cities have been hit hard with riots and in general thereīs great uproar in the Realm. Itīs subtle, I know, but itīs a start, and itīll only increase with time. Thatīs why I have decided weīre going forward with my plan."

She threw a quick glance at Jo who was watching her with attentive, but impassive eyes before continuing, "Weīre going to assassinate Lingstrom on his day of taking office."

Geraint knew she shouldnīt, but she couldnīt help herself. "With the risk of total warfare? You know theyīre going to retaliate."

Messina looked at her in annoyance, "Weīre ready for that, General. Itīs now or never. Iīm not going to wait any longer. Itīs time to bring the Council to its knees." She could tell that other people were about to object and she angrily raised a hand, "Forget it! I know what youīre gonna say, and I donīt want to hear it, I already have. Got that? Okay, youīre dismissed. Not you, Delaine," she added quickly when Jo made an attempt to get up. "I want to talk to you."

Jo nodded and sank back down into the chair, purposely ignoring all the eyes, some more friendly than others, that she could feel on her as people slowly left the room. When the last officer was gone, Messina let out a deep breath and jumped up from her chair, stretching languidly, "Damn, that feels good. I hate these long meetings."

Jo didnīt answer and just regarded her tiredly, waiting for the blonde to get to the point. Noticing the majorīs expression, Messina grew serious and walked over to her. Perching herself on the edge of the table, she studied Joīs face for a moment then said quietly, "I want you to do it."

Jo showed no reaction whatsoever and just commented dryly, "I was guessing you might say that." She was silent for a few seconds then said dispassionately, "Mind if I ask why?"

Messina shrugged, "I trust you. You know him, you know Neo Roma, and youīre an excellent marksman. Youīre perfect for the task."

"The task of an assassin."

"Youīre a soldier, Jo, killing comes with the job description. Besides, itīs not like you havenīt done this kind of work before."

"True…" Jo acknowledged her words with a small nod, then said, more to herself than Messina, "And Iīm very good at it, too."

Messina tilted her head a little, regarding Jo closely, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Iīm fine." Jo smiled faintly, briefly meeting the blondeīs eyes before staring down at the floor. "Iīm just tired. I was up half the night demonstrating various defence techniques with Pilot to some of the cadets. Sometimes he forgets how strong he is."

"You sure thatīs all?"

"Well," Jo grinned lightly, looking back at her superior. "Other than that I miss my girlfriend, but I doubt you want to hear about that."

"You got that right," Messina replied with a little smile, then she sighed and slid down from the table. "Okay, itīs almost ten, letīs get something to eat and then go to bed. Itīs going to be another long day tomorrow."

"You donīt say." Jo got to her feet as well, running a hand through her hair and Messina couldnīt help but notice that she looked a lot more drawn than good was. Putting an arm around Joīs waist she gave her an affectionate squeeze as they walked to the door, "Iīll tell Pilot to go easy on you. I know he gets carried away a little occasionally, but thatīs just because heīs so happy to see you."

"Yeah," Jo smiled wryly. "So happy it might kill me."

***************

"Being industrious, huh, Pilot?"

The big man smiled and looked up from his task as he heard Joīs voice, "Hey, kiddo." He watched as Jo let the door slide shut behind her and crossed the half empty storage room to sit down on the bench beside him. "Iīm just cleaning some of the guns, youīd be amazed by how dirty a couple of careless cadets can get them."

"Nah…" Jo smiled, reaching out to grab a semi-automatic and an oiled rag from the table. "I havenīt forgotten that. Christa used to drop them all the time, remember?"

"Yeah," Pilot said with a big grin, nudging Jo gently in the side with his elbow. "And you offered to clean them for her every time."

Jo shrugged, smiling faintly, "Yeah well, I had it bad."

"That you did," Pilot acknowledged, putting the newly cleaned gun on the table and taking another.

For several minutes they worked in silence, skilfully and efficiently taking the guns apart to clean each small piece before assembling them again and adding a few drops of oil for good measure. When the last gun had been cleaned, Pilot rose and placed them into the appropriate cabinets in the back of the storage, making sure they were all properly locked and wired before walking back to Jo who was staring absently at the floor, seemingly lost in thought.

Making himself comfortable on the table in front of her, Pilot studied the silent woman for a moment then said quietly, "Itīs not that I donīt appreciate the help, but itīs almost three, why arenīt you in bed?"

Jo looked up, letting out a low sigh as she rubbed her forehead tiredly, "I couldnīt sleep."

"You look exhausted."

"I am," she replied with a little smile, looking back down. "But I still canīt sleep."

Pilot scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully, then asked, "Wanna go spar? We can use weapons if you want."

"Thanks for offering, but no thanks. I still got bruises from the last time."

Concern briefly showed on Pilotīs face and he reached out to tilt up her face, "I wasnīt too hard on you, was I?"

"No," Jo replied good-naturedly, allowing Pilotīs hand to linger for a moment before she moved her face away. "My own fault, shouldnīt have challenged you, especially not with all those cadets around."

Pilot nodded to himself, then got off the table to sit down beside Jo again. Without really looking in her direction he said evenly, sounding as dispassionate as if he was commenting on the weather, "Itīs good to have you back, even if itīs only for a little while."

To his utter surprise, Jo not only acknowledged his words, but turned around to face him, an unusually intense expression in her eyes. "Pilot," she began slowly, her brow lightly furrowed as she tried to express herself as clearly as possible. "I donīt know if Iīve ever said this… No, thatīs not true, I know I havenīt, but I want you to know that…"

She hesitated and he could tell that she was feeling uncomfortable, but then the familiar look of determination showed on her face and she continued in a rush, "I want to thank you. I want you to know that… that I really appreciate everything you have done for me. All the support and love you gave me when I was little and…" Jo swallowed, fighting her own awkwardness as she looked into the gentle grey eyes that had never held anything but affection for her. "And I just… Well, I just wanted to tell you that… that I love you for it… That… well… that I love you…"

Pilot blinked, then his features softened and a warm and heartfelt smile appeared on his face. Placing a big hand on Joīs shoulder, he leaned towards her and spoke gently, "I know you do, Jo. Even when you told me you hated me and wished me dead, I knew you loved me." He grinned slightly when he noticed the faint blush on her cheeks. "But that doesnīt mean it isnīt nice to hear it. And to your information," he ruffled her hair affectionately, "I love you, too, but I guess you already know that."

Jo squirmed, trying to put some distance between them, but Pilot would have none of it and eventually she gave up, letting her old instructor put an arm around her shoulder. "You were quite a handful sometimes," he mused out loud after a few moments of companionable silence, grinning when Jo rolled her eyes. "You really knew how to make it difficult for yourself, and me." He gave her a pointed look, "I was sure Vivien would kill you after that stink bomb incident. It was all I could do to keep her from chasing after you out of the window."

Jo tried to suppress a smile without success, "I have no idea what youīre talking about."

"Of course you donīt," Pilot replied with mock seriousness, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

Silence fell between them again and Pilot could tell from the way that Jo was slowly beginning to lean against him that she was starting to fall asleep. Apparently her exhaustion had finally caught up with her and he was glad of that, she had been looking far too stressed lately. He turned to look down at her and for a long time he took in the sight of the dark head resting heavily on his shoulder. Then his gaze trailed over the fit and strong body dressed in almost the same kind of uniform she had been wearing as a child, the only significant difference being the markings of her rank. Then he looked at the pale scar on her hand, at the scar on her throat disappearing beneath the shirt, and at the scar on her temple, partially hidden behind a lock of black hair. He thought of the scars, large and small, old and new, he knew he would find on her body if she wasnīt clothed, the scars that Jo saw in the mirror everyday, and those she didnīt, and suddenly he felt a lump in his throat and swallowed a few times..

Staring straight ahead, his eyes were clouded and his face bereft of its usual peace as he whispered to himself, subconsciously tightening his arm around her, "Youīve done me proud, kid, and Iīm thankful to whatever god led you here that night seventeen years ago, but… at the end of the day… I must confess I donīt know if you have so much to thank me for after all."

***************

Chapter Forty-Eight

Folding her arms behind her head, Jo stared up at the ceiling, her eyes distant and pensive.

Exhaling deeply, she recalled Messinaīs parting words in her head and her own response. It was probably a good thing they would get some time apart; she wasnīt entirely convinced they had a good influence on each other.

She became aware of heavy steps heading towards her room and with a low sigh she sat up on the bed, wearily putting her feet down on the floor. The door opened and Pilot poked his head inside, giving her a small smile, "You ready?"

"Yeah." Jo got to her feet and grabbed the duffle bag that had been leaning against the wall. Pilot watched as she quickly checked her gun before putting it back into its holster, then she looked back at him and said evenly, "Shall we go?"

The instructor regarded her for a moment, ignoring the small frown on her face as he didnīt respond. Then suddenly he stepped all the way into the room and closed the door behind him. If Jo was surprised by his action she didnīt show it and just looked at him questioningly.

"Look, Jo…" Pilot walked over to her and placed a hand on each of her shoulders. "I may not know everything thatīs going on, God knows HQ has never liked to share more information that it absolutely has to, but Iīm not stupid. I hear things and I know what assignment you have to fulfil once you get to Neo Roma."

"And?" Jo raised an eyebrow, her face showing nothing but tired patience as if she was waiting for a little child to make his point.

"And I…" Pilot suddenly faltered, abruptly realizing that he hadnīt thought this through. He just knew he had to say something to her, but he wasnīt sure what. "And I just wanted to know how you feel about it," he finished lamely, shifting awkwardly when he saw the bemusement on her face.

"How I feel about it?" Jo repeated incredulously. "You mean how I feel about having to kill the President of the Realm and in the process declare war on the Council, sentencing thousands of people to their deaths in the years to come?" She grinned without humour, "I feel just fine, Pilot. Why wouldnīt I? Iīm a soldier, remember, this is what we do."

Pilot was silent for a moment, his eyes meeting Joīs with such intensity that she was starting to feel uncomfortable. Then he asked quietly, "Are you happy?"

Jo stared at him, clearly caught off caught, then she shrugged and said dismissively, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Itīs a simple question, Jo," Pilot replied softly, putting a hand under her chin to prevent her from breaking eye contact. "Yes or no?"

Joīs jaw clenched and he could tell from experience that she was starting to get angry, but then she took a deep breath and said offhandedly, "You canīt be happy all the time. Iīm not thrilled about what I have to do, who would be, but I know my duty and Iīll follow through. So maybe Iīm not totally happy right now, but I will be, once we have thrown over the Council and won the war."

"That may be a long time coming."

She just shrugged and didnīt answer, her eyes suddenly veiled and unreadable as she looked at Pilot, waiting for him to let her go. Sighing, Pilot released her and took a step back. Folding his muscular arms across his chest he said tonelessly, "No one can force you to do what you donīt want to."

Jo blinked, then startled him by laughing out loud before shaking her head in disbelief as she spoke, her voice low and resigned, "You donīt really believe that yourself, do you?"

If she hadnīt known Pilot so well, Jo wouldnīt have be able to detect the brief expression of anger that flickered across his face, an expression that quickly turned into sadness and she couldnīt help but think that she had preferred the former.

"So," Pilot began, abruptly changing the subject. "Are you going to see Mickey while youīre there?"

"I…" Jo hesitated for just a second. "I didnīt know you knew about that."

"Jo," Pilot chuckled quietly, relieved that the tension between them seemed to have disappeared. "I know everything. Havenīt you realized that by now? No, actually Basil told me. He came through here a few months ago, couldnīt wait to tell me, you know what he is like."

"Yeah." Jo nodded to herself, smiling absently, then focused back on Pilot when she heard him ask, "Why didnīt you tell me?"

Jo frowned lightly. For a moment she could swear he had sounded almost hurt. "I… I donīt know. I guess it didnīt come up."

"Do you love her?"

"Ah, Jesus…" Jo smiled faintly, scratching her eyebrow. "Why do people keep asking me that? Yes, yes, I do."

Pilot returned her smile, "Glad to hear it, kid, sheīs a great girl, much better suited for you than Christa ever was." He refrained from asking her about the rumours he had heard about her and Messina, it wasnīt any of his business. "And she loves you, too, doesnīt she?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"You believe so?" Pilot studied her closely and Jo hurried to add, "I mean, I know she does. And for the record…" She smiled at him, giving him a small pat on the back as she walked past him and out of the door, speaking over her shoulder, "When Iīm with her, Iīm happy, Pilot. What I feel the rest of the time doesnīt matter."

***************

"Donīt stop."

Mickey smiled in spite of her aching back and shifted lightly on the narrow chair, "Luc, Iīve been reading to you for almost an hour, I have to go home. Besides, Iīm not sure you should be listening to this tale anyway, itīs rather bloody."

"I donīt care! And you promised," he pouted, pushing his lower lip forward. "Canīt you at least continue till Petey gets here?"

"Well…" Mickey glanced at her watch, it was close to six, but Lucīs brother had said he might be delayed. "Okay, but only the rest of the chapter, I have to close the clinic for the night."

"Okay," Luc nodded eagerly, giving her a big happy smile.

Taking a deep breath, Mickey resumed her reading, "Meantime, driven to desperation, Gudrun had slain her little sons, and she set their roasted hearts before the tyrant Hunt. She had also made cups out of the childrenīs skulls, and these she offered to her lord filled with their blood mixed with wine."

Lucīs eyes widened dramatically at that description, but when Mickey hesitated, he eagerly gestured for her to go on, his eyes shining with childlike excitement.

Slowly trailing off, Mickey reached out to put a hand on the young manīs leg. Lucīs expression had suddenly turned very sad. His lower lip quivering, he looked at her with big round eyes and whispered, "My mum tried to kill me, too, back when I was little."

"Oh…" Mickey exhaled inaudibly, frantically searching her brain for something to say. "I… Iīm sorry, Luc. I… I didnīt know that."

"Petey saved me," he continued, his eyes lightening up with complete and utter adoration. "My big brother saved me. Heīs my hero, heīs the strongest man in the world."

"That he is," Mickey replied solemnly, putting the book away as she recalled the frail and sickly looking man who was Lucīs brother. "And I bet youīre his hero, too."

"Dr. Renault?"

"Petey!" Luc leapt up from the chair and raced over to his brother standing in the doorway to throw his arms around him.

"Hey, big guy," Peter said with a smile, wincing inwardly when his ribs creaked from the strength of Lucīs embrace. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, Iīll just go get my jacket. Goodbye, Mickey! Thank you for the story!"

"Youīre welcome!" Mickey called out in reply, but Luc had already disappeared out into the corridor.

Taking a few steps into the room, Peter smiled shyly then spoke, clearing his throat a few times, "Thanks for looking after him, Doctor, I really appreciate that."

"No problem, Peter, you know I like Luc, I donīt mind having him here from time to time. Just not too often, okay? A lot of unpleasant people come here and neither Sophia nor I are capable of watching him all the time." Mickey smiled to herself, taking off her coat, "Itīs also a bit difficult getting any work done with Luc staring you over the shoulder."

"I understand, Doctor, and donīt worry, I can take care of my brother. Today was just an exception." Peter glanced over his shoulder before looking back at Mickey, "Well, Iīd better get going, itīs getting late."

Giving her a small nod, he turned around and disappeared out of the door. Alone at last, Mickey made quick work of closing the clinic and was on her way through the Slums less than ten minutes later. Lost in thought and eager to get home because of the dark, it took her some time before she noticed the faint sound of footsteps behind her. At least she thought that was what she heard, but when she abruptly stopped to look behind her, the sound was gone and there was nothing or nobody to see. Trying not to be too spooked, she picked up her pace, forcing herself not to look at the shadowy alleys and empty buildings she passed.

To her relief she didnīt hear the footsteps again, but instead an uncomfortable feeling of being watched settled in her and made her walk even faster. She didnīt slow down until she saw the dark outline of the wall separating the Slums from the Suburbs arise before her, and she realized that for once she was actually happy to see the Councilīs soldiers. Breathing a sigh of relief, she showed her papers to the guards who waved her through, one of them giving her a very disapproving look as she went past him. Mickey just ignored him. She was too used to the soldiers thinking she was crazy working in the Slums to take notice of them, or the lame pick up lines and appreciative whistling some of them sent her way every time she walked by.

Once she was home, she took a moment to change, only pausing briefly in front of the mirror to study the thin silver chain she was wearing around her neck. Smiling melancholically, she grabbed her gym bag and walked outside again, taking the stairs instead of the lift. Somehow, in spite of a long working day, she felt strangely relaxed and full of energy and what better way to spend that energy than to beat the shit out of the boxing bag in the gym. Besides, she preferred going to bed exhausted, it made it easier for her to fall asleep and prevented her from dreaming of Jo too much. After three months apart, and four weeks without a word, that was something she was beginning to find more painful than comforting.

***************

Stepping into the gym, the familiar smell of stale sweat mixed with leather and rubber assaulted Mickeyīs nostrils and she smiled involuntarily. It was almost like being back in Vega, except here the clientele didnīt have twenty-five grinning teenagers around them it they were thrown on their butt. Shrugging off the thought she continued through the already crowded room, deftly avoiding flailing arms and flying towels.

"Hey, Mickey! Wanna go a few rounds later?"

Mickey stopped at the locker room door, glancing back at a young woman drinking deeply from a bottle of water. "Sure, Heather, just give me a minute to change and warm up."

"Okay." Heather wiped her mouth with back of her hand, grinning broadly, "Iīm gonna get you today, you know. I almost had you the last time."

"Yeah, right," Mickey grinned in return. "You just keep saying that and maybe one day someone will actually believe you. See you in a sec."

Inside the locker room, she found an available locker and quickly changed into shorts and a tank top before heading back out. Heather was already waiting in a free boxing ring and Mickey noticed that a small crowd of expectant men had already gathered around it. Sighing good-humouredly, she began to stretch to warm up her muscles. Since so few women frequented the gym and she and Heather were by far the best athletes of those who did, she had found that the men working out beside them had begun to see them as some kind of mascots for the club, and every time they went into the ring, they always had an attentive and enthusiastic audience, everybody cheering for their favourite. She had even been asked if she would be interested in representing the club against a rival gym. Though flattered Mickey had declined in spite of Heatherīs ardent protests. She was stressed for time as it was and didnīt really want the attention, she doubted anything good would come from that, as innocent as it all might be. Old habits died hard.

"Ah, there you are, Mickey," a lean and sinewy man spoke, coming over to stand beside her. "I hope youīre feeling bloodthirsty today cause I got a lot of money on you."

"When donīt you, Roberto," Mickey replied with a grin, rolling her eyes as he stepped behind her and started to massage her shoulders.

"Thatīs because Iīve complete faith in you, my sweet, and besides, Heatherīs been missing practice a couple of times." Mickey winced as he kneaded a particular tense spot. "And although sheīs got more bulk than you, youīre faster and more enduring. And also a lot more pretty to look at." He padded her gently on the back and then moved around to face her, "Now, go make me rich, daddy needs to send his kids to college."

"Oh, the pressure," Mickey smiled at him, "letīs hope I can stand it." Then she walked determinably towards the ring, giving Heather her most menacing look.

***************

"Oh, I canīt believe it!" Heather flopped down onto the bench, gesturing melodramatically. "The indignity of it all! The humiliation! Iīll never be able to put my foot in the gym again as long as I live."

"Oh, come on, Heather," Mickey spoke, doing her utmost to suppress a grin. "Iīm sure they have seen a woman lose her shorts before, and it wasnīt like you werenīt wearing any underwear or something."

Her sparring partner just groaned, covering her face with her hands and Mickey gave her a reassuring pat on the knee, "Donīt worry, Iīm sure in a week or two theyīll have forgotten everything about it."

"Donīt count on it." Heather peeked at her out between her fingers. "Did you happen to notice what was written on said underwear?"

This time it was impossible for Mickey to smother a grin, "I tried not to. Besides, with all the guys leaning close to get a better look it was hard to see anything at all." She rose and began to take off her almost dry gym clothes; she had hardly had the time to break a sweat before Heatherīs little mishap. "Look at it on the bright side, youīll have a lot more supporters from now."

"Thank you, Mickey, I appreciate your sympathy," Heather replied sarcastically while a smile crept onto her face and softened the tone. "Now if youīll excuse me, I think Iīll just go into the sauna and see if I can sweat myself to death."

"You do that," Mickey called out over her shoulder as she headed into the showers. "Iīll join you in a few to check on your progress."

The water could have been warmer, but it was acceptable and at least she didnīt have to share so she didnīt mind that much. Taking a moment to cover every inch of her body with soap, Mickey replayed their match in her head, chuckling quietly to herself. That was definitely one of the more interesting matches she had been involved in. Too bad Christa hadnīt been there so see it. It would have given her another point to her eternal argument that sports had been invented for no other reason than to humiliate people when they were at their most vulnerable, having no place to hide and wearing hideously colourful outfits that belonged only in comic books and not on living and breathing human beings.

Thinking about Christa suddenly made her sigh and her good mood evaporated. She missed her. In fact, she missed having friends. She spent so much time at the clinic and was constantly on her guard whenever someone tried to get to know her. So after more than sixteen months in Neo Roma she hardly had any real friends. Sure, she and Heather got along great and there were also a couple of other people from the gym she spoke to occasionally, but she never did anything with them outside the club. She was too afraid that she would slip, say something about the past and background she officially didnīt have, and she knew that if people began to ask questions she would be hard pressed to answer. So instead of lying to them, she preferred to keep her distance and not let anyone close, but it cost her, and with the added absence of Jo, there where times she felt terribly lonely with only her work to keep her from slipping into a full-blown depression.

Sophia and Lawrence both tried to be there for her as much as possible and Mickey was thankful for their efforts, but they were so much older and had lives of their own to be a proper replacement. Besides, she knew only too well that neither wanted to hear about the Organisation if they could help it, and with Lawrence around, Jo was off topic, too. Ralph had tried to become her friend and Mickey had grown quite fond of the young student, occasionally gone to the cinema or out to dinner with him, but he, too, wasnīt permitted to get close to her in spite of his many attempts to persuade her otherwise.

Before she could get too depressed, Mickey turned off the water and walked out of the shower, small droplets of water running down her body and leaving a wet trail behind her. Reaching for her towel hanging on a peg, her hand abruptly paused a few inches from it. A vague, but nagging feeling told her that she wasnīt alone in the locker room. Before she had time to be afraid, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and acting purely on instinct, she grabbed it with both her hands, twisted her body and using all her strength threw her attacker over her shoulder and into the wall.

Quickly stepping back to put some distance between them, Mickey froze on the spot, a look of pure terror crossing her face, "Oh, God!"

Lying on the wet floor, startled and dazed, was Jo.

Looking up, her lover wiped the blood from the tiny gash in her forehead and said dryly, "So much for surprising you, huh?"

"Jesus, Jo!" Mickey could only stare at her as she attempted to get to her feet. "What were you thinking?"

"The wrong thing apparently, help me up, will ya?"

Joīs words finally released Mickey from her state of paralysis and she rushed to her side, putting both arms around her and helping her to her feet. "God, Jo! Iīm so sorry! I didnīt know it was you. I wasnīt expecting you at all."

"I know," Jo moved away a little, rubbing her sore shoulder. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, you surprised me all right." Mickey still stared at Jo as if she couldnīt believe what she was seeing. Then suddenly she exclaimed, "It was you, wasnīt it?! Today in the Slums, it was you who were watching me."

Jo stopped massaging her shoulder and straightened up abruptly, her brow furrowing, "What are you talking about?"

"When I walked home," Mickey continued eagerly. "Someone was watching me and…" she trailed off as she noticed the dark expression on Joīs face. "It wasnīt you," she stated quietly, hugging herself as the air in the locker room suddenly felt a little cooler against her bare skin. "It was someone else."

For a moment they looked at each other in silence, then the reality of the situation suddenly made itself known and Mickey whispered softly, "My God, youīre here… Youīre really here… Iīve missed you so much." Then, without allowing Jo time to answer, she flew forward, burying her head in Joīs chest as her arms wrapped tightly around her. "Please tell me Iīm not dreaming."

"Youīre not." Joīs voice was unusually hoarse and raw as she returned Mickeyīs bone crushing embrace, and the sound of it made Mickey hold her even tighter. Not wanting to waste further words, Jo put a finger under Mickeyīs chin, tilting her face up. A ghost of a smile appeared on her face as she saw the unshed tears in Mickeyīs eyes, then she saw nothing else as a hand behind her neck pulled her down and all thoughts flew from her mind as she met Mickeyīs mouth in a deep and hungry kiss. Moaning as their tongues met and began a sensual dance from mouth to mouth, Joīs hands started to wander of their own volition and she dimly realized that Mickey was naked. Somehow, that fact seemed to have escaped her notice earlier, but now she wasnīt slow to take advantage of the situation, eliciting a deep groan from Mickey as she pressed her thigh between the blondeīs legs. Grabbing Joīs face to hold her in place, Mickeyīs tongue explored deeper as she instinctively ground down on Joīs thigh, causing lightning bolts to shoot straight to her groin.

But then, through a haze of desire and lust, she heard someone gasp and forced herself to break away, knowing it hadnīt come from either her or Jo, and still having enough presence of mind to remember where they were. Practically growling, Jo was about to pull Mickey back when she noticed Mickey stare at something behind her back and she spun around, coming face to face with a woman who was staring at them with wide open eyes.

"Heather…" Mickey began, feeling as if she should say something, but not knowing what, and it didnīt really matter anyway as Heatherīs face contorted in something she could only call disbelief and then disgust, and looked as though she wanted nothing more than to run from the room. However, she wasnīt wearing more than a towel and without a word, and with as much distance from them as possible, she marched past them to her clothes.

Raising an eyebrow, Jo looked at Mickey questioningly, waiting for a clue from her lover as to how she should react. Mickey just smiled sadly, then leaned up to place a quick kiss on her lips, "Itīs okay, sweetie, sheīs just a friend." She glanced in Heatherīs direction before continued quietly, "At least she was. Wait here while I get dressed, okay? Then we can get out of here."

Jo nodded reluctantly, suspicious blue eyes following Heatherīs every move, "Okay. Iīll wait at the door."

That earned her another kiss and then Mickey turned around and walked past Heatherīs stiff back to her locker, inwardly shaking her head at the irony that the return of her lover should cost her a friend.

***************

Chapter Forty-Nine

"So, what did your friend say?" Jo looked at Mickey who hadnīt spoken since they left the gym ten minutes earlier. "I saw her say something to you when you walked by."

Mickey tightened her hold on Joīs hand, looking ahead of her down the street as she spoke with feigned indifference, "Well, to give you the short version, it seems like I no longer have a sparring partner, or a friend for that matter."

"Why not?" They stopped at the traffic lights, waiting for the light to change and Jo leaned closer so Mickey couldnīt avoid her eyes. Mickey sighed and spoke in a resigned voice, "Because she doesnīt like me kissing girls."

For a split second Jo considered several ways she could make life very unpleasant for the woman she had seen in the locker-room, but then decided against it. She was here to work, not enjoy herself, and Mickey probably wouldnīt appreciate it either. Trying to get a smile from her lover, she said, "Well, neither do I."

"Do what?" Mickey looked at her in confusion.

"Like you kissing girls," Jo grinned, giving her hand a squeeze. "I only like you kissing me. And you better tell those girls of yours that if they as much as think of looking at you again, Iīll have to show them a thing or two about not messing with whatīs mine."

Mickey stared at her for a second, then a faint, but warm smile appeared on her face and she reached up to place a tender kiss on Joīs lips, "You choose the strangest times to be romantic, you know that?"

"Ah, what can I say," Jo put her arm around Mickeyīs shoulder as they crossed the street. "Iīm in love."

Mickey didnīt answer and shook her head indulgently, but the look in her eyes when she spoke those words told Jo that maybe Mickey didnīt mind it that much after all.

The night was surprisingly warm for this time of year and neither felt the need to hurry to get home, so they took their time walking through the quiet streets, stopping occasionally to look at shop windows or to kiss for a few moments whenever the need to touch became too strong to ignore.

It was after one of the latter breaks that Mickey suddenly remembered something and pulled away, not releasing Joīs lower lip until the last minute. Smiling, she watched as Joīs eyes remained closed for a few seconds before they fluttered open and her lover simultaneously let out a blissful sigh. Trying not to look too pleased with herself, Mickey took a deep breath and asked, finally voicing what had been waiting in the back of her head ever since Jo showed up, "In all this excitement Iīve completely forgotten to ask you what youīre doing here. Are you on leave again already?"

She could instantly see how the walls went up in Joīs eyes and the muscles under her hands grew tense, but then they relaxed, not completely but almost, and Jo said softly, "No, I am not."

She didnīt offer further information and Mickey nodded slowly to herself, unconsciously tightening her hold around Joīs neck, "So youīre here… ex officio so to speak…?"

"Yes." Jo looked into Mickeyīs eyes for a long time, then, seemingly reaching a conclusion, spoke sincerely, "I know this is a lot to ask for, Mickey, but youīll have to promise me not to ask me any questions about what Iīm doing here. I canīt tell you and more importantly, I donīt want to tell you, the less you know the better. Itīs not because I donīt trust you, itīs because itīs safer for you that way. What you donīt know, you canīt tell."

"That doesnīt sound like a vote of confidence to me," Mickey replied dryly, not sure how she should interpret Joīs last remark, or everything else she had said.

"I didnīt mean it like that." Jo glanced around to make sure they were still alone on the street. "What I meant was that if you donīt know anything, you canīt be of use to anybody. If youīre not involved now, you wonīt be involved later."

Mickey studied Joīs face in silence, then, forcing her voice to be calm said quietly, "Youīre scaring me, Jo." She hesitated, then continued, this time almost in a whisper, "Are you in danger?"

Jo considered several responses. She considered denial and evasions, but quickly abandoned the idea and then decided on a halfway admission of the truth, mainly because she expected Mickey to see right through any lies she might tell, and she didnīt want any more secrets between them than was absolutely necessary. Giving Mickey a smile that was meant to be reassuring, but which didnīt quite convince, she said gently, trying to sound as confident as possible, "Not more than usual. Itīs… itīs a different kind of… of danger, I suppose you could say, but itīs not worse than what I usually face."

"That doesnīt give me much to work on, Jo," Mickey interjected softly, resignation showing in her eyes, "because I donīt really know what you usually face. You never tell me."

"Iīm sorry," Jo began, pausing to clear her throat when her voice suddenly sounded too hoarse. "Itīs not that I donīt want to tell you… itīs… itīs just…"

"Yes, it is, Jo." Mickey smiled sadly. "Thatīs exactly what it is. And maybe thatīs the way it should be, I donīt know." She reached down to take Joīs hand, giving it a light tug, "Letīs go home now, I want you to make love to me."

Jo regarded for a moment, her face expressionless, then she nodded and they walked the rest of the way to Mickeyīs apartment hand in hand.

***************

"Ah, itīs good to be back in a real bed for a change." Jo stretched in contentment while letting out a deep satisfied sigh. "I was getting so sick and tired of always sleeping in trucks or on the floor."

"Oh yeah?" Mickey propped herself up on her right elbow to better study her lover. "Have you been sleeping on the road a lot?"

"It definitely feels like it," Jo smiled, rolling onto her side before reaching out to whisk away a few hairs from Mickeyīs eyes. "The last two months were particularly bad. I donīt know if Messina felt the call of foreign places or something like that, but we rarely stayed somewhere for more than two or three days. In fact it wasnīt until we arrived in Vega that she began to slow down a little. We stayed there for about ten days which was definitely a new record."

"You were in Vega?" Mickey asked with interest, moving a little closer so she could rest her hand on Joīs hip.

"Yeah. Pilot says hi by the way."

Mickey smiled involuntarily, thinking of the big good-natured instructor who could turn into a raging bear if he or anyone he loved were threatened. "How is he? Still tormenting the cadets?"

"Absolutely, and heīs just fine." Jo closed her eyes briefly as she felt Mickeyīs hand leisurely stroke her side, gently running over her hip to her thigh and back up. "Heīs gotten older of course, but that happens to the best of us. All in all Iīd say he seems to be pretty content with life."

"Glad to hear it," Mickey paused, then asked mischievously. "And Vivien? How was she doing?"

Jo rolled her eyes and groaned, but then smiled, "Sheīs fine, too… I think. We didnīt really spend that much time together, sheīs head of security now in Vega and was pretty busy making sure nothing happened to Messina."

"I thought that was your job?"

Jo shrugged as much as she could lying down, giving Mickey a little smile, "So did I, but apparently Vivien didnīt have much faith in my abilities to do my duty, she more or less sent me to the doghouse for the entire stay."

Actually it had been worse than she let on and it had been driving her crazy. She had suddenly had so much difficulty getting access to Messina that sheīd had to sneak into the blondeīs room at night to explain to her bemused superior why she hadnīt seen her for days. Messina had found it highly amusing, but had promised to do something about it and the next day she had made a great point of expressing how invaluable Jo was to her, and later, in private, in unmistakable terms told Vivien that she would never again tolerate such behaviour from a high ranking officer. Jo had felt extremely uncomfortable during the entire charade, it had been bad enough when Messina promoted her to major, and she didnīt really need all the, mostly negative, extra attention.

Sometimes she couldnīt help but wonder why Messina insisted on being so openly supportive of her. It wasnīt that she didnīt appreciate her superiorīs absolute faith in her, but occasionally it only served to make life more complicated. And sometimes she had the unpleasant inkling that Messina enjoyed provoking her officers by not only ignoring or dismissing their suggestions, but also treating her in front of them in a different and much more familiar way than was strictly necessary. Not to mention appropriate.

Eventually she had asked Messina to stop, explaining that it made it practically impossible for her to gain any respect among her peers. A lot of them thought she had slept her way to the top as it was already. The blonde had looked genuinely surprised by her words and had been silent for a long time before quietly saying that she never meant any harm. She had admitted that maybe she was a little biased, but that was only because she knew Jo so well and because she knew Jo deserved the recognition and had earned everything she had got.

Messina had been quite adamant that had she found Jo lacking in any way, she would not be where she was now, in spite of their friendship. She might be guilty of favouritism, but she wasnīt stupid. Jo had assured her she was aware of that, but that from now on she would have to fight her own battles if she should ever rise beyond Messinaīs shadow. No matter what kind of trouble she ended up finding herself in, she would have to manage on her own. Again, Messina had fallen silent, then said in a very low voice that she wasnīt sure she could promise that, but that she would do her best not to interfere. Unless, she hurried to point out, it had something to do with the overall picture, with the Organisation, then Jo would have to accept her getting involved. Jo had smiled, saying she wouldnīt expect anything less.

"You know," Jo spoke absently, slowly returning to the present after being so far away in her mind. "Pilot asked if I was going to see you when I got here."

"Oh?" Mickey frowned lightly. She placed a hand against Joīs chest to gently push her down onto her back. "He knows about us?"

"Yes." Jo smiled as Mickeyīs body slid over her own, coming to rest comfortably on top of her. "Basil told him."

"Ah, of course," Mickey grinned, slipping a thigh between Joīs legs. "He never could keep a secret, could he?"

She bent her head and they kissed softly for a minute or two, both too tired after their earlier love making to go much further. "He was very happy for me," Jo spoke when they finally broke apart. "Pilot, I mean. He thinks youīre a great girl and well suited for me."

Mickey smirked, placing a quick kiss on Joīs nose, "Well, heīs right, on both counts." She gave Jo a more substantial kiss on the lips before whispering, "Under all circumstances, Iīm glad you came to see me. I have missed you. Although Iīm surprised they allowed you." She put her head down on Joīs shoulder, her hand tugging the covers free from between their legs then draping them over their bodies. "Especially since you have work to do here. The Organisation usually never allows you to mix business with pleasure."

Though she had been muttering the last couple of sentences in half-sleep, Mickey suddenly noticed how the body she was resting on became tense. Pausing for a moment to take in the feel of Joīs suddenly hard muscles and the sound of a heartbeat picking up, she slowly raised her head to look into her loverīs eyes for a moment before stating quietly, "They donīt know youīre here. Whoever gave you this task donīt know youīre here... With me. They think youīre somewhere else."

Jo swallowed subconsciously, then nodded lightly, several emotions showing in her eyes, "Yes." She paused, then added softly, "Iīm not supposed to be here. I was told not to get into contact with you."

"Then why are you here?" Mickey tenderly caressed Joīs cheek, her calm appearance belying the turmoil inside her. "Itīs not like you to disobey orders…"

Jo smiled, but the expression conveyed more pain than joy, "I wasnīt going to. I only meant to see how you were doing and then disappear without you knowing I was there. But then… I just couldnīt." She smiled again, this time a little resigned, but also affectionately, and she subtly tightened her arms around Mickey, "I saw you on the street and it completely took my breath away. I couldnīt even move." She suddenly grinned sheepishly, "All you wouldīve had to do was to look up and you would have spotted me. So much for being here incognito."

Mickey smiled fleetingly, but then grew serious, searching Joīs eyes as she asked, "Is this going to get you into trouble? If it is, then itīs not worth it. I donīt want you to-" She was silenced as Jo leaned up to kiss her and in spite of her worry she allowed the contact, kissing her back until Jo broke off the kiss herself. "Itīs okay, Mickey," she spoke reassuringly. "As long as I successfully complete my assignment, it wonīt be a problem."

Mickey regarded her doubtfully, not quite willing to be soothed, "And what if you donīt?"

She tweaked Mickeyīs nose gently, and exclaimed with mock offence, "Hey! Have a little faith, will you? Iīve never failed before, why should that change? Especially now, when I have so much to live for?"

The moment the words had left her mouth, Jo knew she had just shot herself in the foot. Mickeyīs eyes widened and became fearful. However, she didnīt speak, but just looked at her, irrationally hoping that Jo would say something to erase the cold she suddenly felt and that everything wasnīt as bad as her heart kept telling her it had to be.

Licking her lips a few times, Jo finally spoke, not quite meeting Mickeyīs eyes, "Perhaps… perhaps we should go to sleep now. You have to get up early and I… I have to be somewhere, too. So, itīll probably be better if…"

Mickey stared at her for a second, then turned her face away, "Yes, of course. Itīs late." She moved away from Jo, curling up on her side instead, staring out into the dark room.

Jo bit her lip, nervously regarding Mickeyīs back, then she tentatively reached out to touch her loverīs shoulder. To her relief Mickey didnīt recoil, but she didnīt turn around to face her either, and for a long moment Jo was frozen in indecision, but then she determinedly moved closer, pressing the length of her body against Mickeyīs. Slipping an arm over Mickeyīs waist, she whispered, almost experimentally, "I love you…"

She did receive an answer, but only long after she had fallen asleep, and then it was too late.

***************

Victoria Walder purposely moved across the dimly lit office, leaving the door she had entered through open. Scant seconds later, another person stepped inside, closing the door. Regarding him coolly as she poured herself a drink, Walder asked, her voice hinting of a badly hidden irritation, "So, Andreas, what is it you want to talk to me about? You know I donīt like being disturbed when Iīm entertaining guests."

"Iīm sorry to interrupt your social life," Lingstrom answered without a hint of sincerity, "but this couldnīt wait." He walked over behind the desk, making himself comfortable in the brown leather chair and ignoring Walderīs disapproving look. "Iīve heard disturbing news. It appears as though the Organisation isnīt too happy with the change of leadership. Iīve heard from various and independent sources that they are undertaking means to prevent it."

"Undertaking means…" Walder repeated, trying to suppress the evil little grin that wasnīt far away. "You mean assassination? Elimination?"

Lingstrom scowled at her, "Yes, that would be obvious, wouldnīt it?"

"Oh, Andreas, darling…" the council member sighed, putting her own drink down on the mantelpiece to prepare one for the clearly upset man. "The Organisation has always been full of bravado and big words, but it rarely ever manifests itself into something. Why should it be different this time?"

Lingstrom reached into his coat and pulled out folder. "Thatīs why!" He threw it angrily onto the desk before swirling the chair around to stare out of the window.

Victoria Walder arched a beautifully sculpted eyebrow, then without a word stepped over to the desk. Placing the drink she had prepared within Andreasī reach, she took the folder and opened it. "Well, well, well…" she spoke to herself, her face showing no emotion as she ran through the pages. "Thatīs interesting…"

"Interesting!" Lingstrom sputtered, turning around to face her. "Is that all you can say?! I have been made a complete fool of! I have been used in the most disgusting way! I canīt believe it! They know everything now! Everything Iīve planned! Everything I was going to do to finally rid the world of that scum."

"Mmm…" Walder responded, not really listening to his tirade. Instead she was studying the grainy, black and white photo she had discovered among the last pages. Intrigued, she fumbled for her reading glasses before holding the picture up for a closer study. "Well, Iīll be… If that isnīt the lovely Miss Turner weīre seeing getting into a truck…"

"Yes," Lingstrom said curtly, emptying his drink in one gulp. "And guess whoīs getting in behind her."

In spite of his anger, he couldnīt help but feel a little satisfaction when he saw the council memberīs eyes widen and her mouth opening soundlessly in surprise.

"Yes, thatīs Iris Messina, the head of the Organisation and the most wanted terrorist in the Realm. And it gets worse." He gestured for her to go to the back of the folder and she did so, pulling out two more pictures. "The first picture is only a month or so old, the next is three or four years old. It was discovered in our archives a couple of weeks ago." He snorted, "Apparently no one thought it important enough to pass along."

Walder looked at the first picture, an unreadable expression crossing her face. It showed Josephine Turner, or whoever she was, standing next to a big and muscular man outside an enclosure of sorts, both of them armed and fully uniformed. And if she wasnīt quite mistaken, Turner outranked the man. Somehow, that thought made her smile. Dismissing the photo she went on to the next one, her brow furrowing lightly as she tried to make out what it was she was seeing.

"It was taken at night, through night lenses," Lingstrom offered as explanation, rising from the desk to pour himself another drink. "Thatīs why the quality is so poor."

"I see…" She studied the picture for several minutes, giving Lingstrom plenty of opportunity to pour himself a third and a fourth drink. Then she took off her reading glasses, folded them and replaced them in her shirt pocket. Putting the pictures back inside, she tossed the folder back onto the desk and said matter-of-factly, "Seems like our dear Josephine has a slightly more intimate knowledge of the worldīs most feared terrorist than most. How come I havenīt seen this photo sooner? It was clearly taken before Turner came to Neo Roma."

"Trust me, thatīs a question I have been asking myself for several days now and the answer is always the same." Andreasīs eyes were glinting with a cold and barely controlled fury. "At the time it was taken, the man in charge deemed it to be insignificant. He labelled it as just another one of Messinaīs conquests, just some new girl, unimportant, and not worth any further inquiry."

"Well, clearly he was wrong," Walder commented flatly, shaking her head. Even after all these years, peopleīs stupidity never failed to amaze her. "Turner is too high up in the hierarchy to be dismissed a conquest. In the later of the two pictures she had the rank of major, and Iris Messina is too smart to let her bedwarmers rise that far, no matter how fond of them she may be."

"Yes." Lingstrom calmly met Walderīs questioning gaze. "And donīt worry, the people responsible have been punished."

"Good." Walder held Andreasī eyes until he had to look away. Smirking inwardly she asked, "Do we know who she is? I take it Josephine Turner isnīt her real name?"

"No, it isnīt." Lingstrom reached into his coat again, pulling out another, this time much thinner, folder. "There hasnīt been much to find and this is all we got on her."

"That isnīt much to go on," the council member mumbled in annoyance, reading the few lines of information which hardly took up more than a page. "Jo Delaine, born app. 2023, presumably in Neo Roma, raised in one of the Organisationīs camps. When she left the capital or how she came into contact with the Organisation isnīt known. Neither is the name of the camp or any relatives she might have. The first report of her being seen in the company of Messina dates back to the beginning of 2043." Walderīs eyes narrowed, "Thatīs almost five years ago! What the heck has our intelligence branch been doing in all that time? Twiddling their thumbs?"

"I know," Lingstrom sighed, rubbing his forehead in resignation. "I donīt understand it myself." He straightened up abruptly, his face growing hard, "A lot of things will have to change once Iīm in charge. Such incompetence cannot be tolerated any longer. Itīs bad enough that her connection with Messina wasnīt followed up on, but that she was able to move among us for several months and succeed in making us perceive her as a friend, someone to be trusted, someone-" Lingstrom cut himself short, his face flushed.

"Well, she fooled some of us more than others," Walder smiled derisively, unable to resist the jab. "Have you read the last line of the report?"

"What line?" Lingstrom stared at her in confusion, the alcohol beginning to show its effect.

"The…" Walder scanned the page, smiling when she found what she was looking for. "The -subjectīs sexual orientation appears to directed mainly, if not exclusively, toward women- line?"

For a second Lingstrom looked as if he was ready to kill her, than he grabbed the folder from her hands and strode out of the room, slamming the door forcefully behind him. Victoria Walder stared at the closed door in bemusement for a moment, then she laughed out loud and walked over to refill her own drink. Smiling absently, she picked up the folder Lingstrom had left on the desk, then sat down in the chair and, sipping her drink languidly, began to read.

***************

Chapter Fifty

Walking down the dark and narrow alley, Jo felt as though she was stepping back in time. The unpleasant smell of garbage, human waste and decay was the same as it had been seventeen years ago. So was the sound of water running in the sewerage closely under the asphalt, and the feel of wet newspapers and shards from broken bottles and windows under her feet. The only difference was that this time she wasnīt a scared little girl, she was a grown up and strong woman, armed with both confidence and a gun. Yet, as mush as she tried to persuade herself otherwise, the area still made her shiver.

"This way, Major. Theyīre waiting in here."

Jo looked at the door her companion was gesturing at, then back at him. He stared at her in bewilderment for a moment, then suddenly he blushed, "Oh, Iīm sorry, Major." He quickly opened the door for her and Jo stepped through, shivering involuntarily when a breath of cold wind hit her in the face.

"Go down the corridor until you come to the end, theyīre behind the last door to the right. Only knock once. Iīll be here in case thereīs trouble."

Jo nodded and followed his directions, carefully finding her way in the darkness. The old building was empty and deserted, full of strange sounds and whispers, and Jo was glad she didnīt believe in ghosts. The boards under her feet complained loudly every time she took a step forward and she quickly gave up the attempt to be quiet. The people waiting for her would have heard her already. Reaching the end of the corridor, she found the door in question and knocked briskly one time.

"Who is it?!"

"Delaine. You sent for me."

The sound of footsteps followed and the door was opened just enough for a flashlight to be shoved up into her face. Blinking vainly against the blinding light, Jo fought her discomfort and waited to speak until the flashlight was removed, "Satisfied?"

There was no answer, but the door was pushed further open and Jo took it as an invitation to step inside. She found herself in a bare, unfurnished room with grey concrete walls and a wet and dirty floor. Two men and a woman were standing in a half circle a few feet away, watching her intently, and behind them she could detect several dark shadows close to the wall, indicating that there were more people in the room.

"Major Delaine?" The woman stepped forward, offering her hand. "Iīm Lieutenant Bradford, and these are Sergeants Sonyan and Weller." The two men nodded and Jo gave them a brief nod in return before looking back at Bradford who continued, "We all belong to the group of agents who took over when you and your men were evacuated."

The lieutenant smiled and to Jo it seemed as if she was suddenly nervous. Taking a step closer, Bradford spoke eagerly, "Please allow me to say what an honour it is to finally meet you, maīam. We have all heard the stories how excellent the unit was functioning under your command, and I have been trying to follow in your footsteps since I took over. I know you have been assigned help already, but I want you to know that my men and I will be at your disposal at all time during your stay in Neo Roma. Just say the word."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Jo replied earnestly, her face showing none of the quiet amusement she was feeling. "I truly appreciate that. As it is now I doubt that I will be needing your help, but should it change Iīll know who to call."

Bradfordīs face lit up and she saluted, and it took Jo a few seconds before she realized she was expected to salute in return. Sighing inwardly, she did so, then inquired placidly, "You sent for me, there was some urgent matter I should attend to. What is it?"

"This." Bradford nodded at Sergeant Weller who directed the flashlight to the back of the room and Joīs eyes narrowed as she saw five people kneeling on the floor with their faces against the wall.

"Whatīs this?" She stepped closer, noticing that their hands were tied behind their backs. "Who are they?"

"They are criminals." Bradfordīs voice was strained as she came over to stand beside Jo who turned to look at her in surprise. "They are murderers. Animals!"

Jo studied the people on the floor for a moment. As far as she could tell there were four men and one woman and none of them looked older than twenty-five, but she couldnīt know for sure from behind. To her they looked like any other gang she had ever encountered in the Slums. "What did they do?"

"They beat two of my men to death." This time there was no mistaking the hatred in the lieutenantīs voice. "Dobbs and Kelly sought refuge in the Slums after a failed assignment. Kelly had been wounded and they were going to seek treatment in the clinic before going under ground. However…" Bradford abruptly walked over to kick one of them men in the back. "They never quite made it. On the way they were passed up by these bastards here who then chased them for several miles with their dogs. And when they caught them, they tied them up, used them as ashtrays for an hour or two before beating them to death. Thatīs what they did!" She proceeded to kick another man in the kidneys and then the woman. "And for that theyīre going to die!"

"Lieutenant! Get a hold of yourself!" Jo ordered, the words holding a clear warning. She watched as Bradford made a conscious effort to get herself under control, then asked tonelessly, "Do you have proof?"

"They confessed."

Jo turned around to look at Sergeant Sonyan who was the one who had spoken.

"One of our informants saw what happened and notified us. It didnīt take us long to find them." Pain flickered across the agentīs face, then it was gone. "All we had to do was follow the trail of vomit and blood."

"And then they confessed?"

"Yes."

"Just like that?" Jo looked at him, her face free from emotion.

"Just like that."

"Okay," she nodded slowly, then turned to look back at Bradford. "So you got them, thatīs fine, but what do you need me for?"

The lieutenant looked into her eyes, speaking coldly, "We need your permission to execute them. You know as well as I do, Major, that I donīt have the authority to make that decision, not when it isnīt an emergency and when the number of people is so high. Technically theyīre prisoners and must be treated that way. However, this isnīt war, this is murder, and they need to be punished. We need to make an example, an example no one will forget, otherwise our agents will never be able to walk safely in the Slums again."

Jo met her gaze without blinking, "So if I give you that permission, then what?"

"With all due respect, maīam, but then I want you to leave." Bradford glanced back at the silent prisoners at the wall. "This is something between us and them, thereīs no reason for you to get involved. Just grant us the permission and leave. Weīll take care of it from there."

"The Organisation doesnīt permit torture."

"Whoīs talking torture?" Bradford crossed her arms in front of her chest, her eyes hard and unyielding. "This is justice." Tilting her head a little, she added contemptuously, "I realize itīs been awhile since you worked in the field, Major, but I didnīt think it had been that long. Have you forgotten already how it is to lose some of your men? How it is to have to search their bodies for something to send their loved ones? How it feels to lose the only family you have ever had?"

"No, Lieutenant," Joīs voice was smooth and low, causing a shiver to run down Bradfordīs back. "I havenīt forgotten."

Relief showed on Bradfordīs face, "Then you understand. You understand that we canīt let them get away with it. Not just for the safety of all of us working in Neo Roma, but for the morale. We need to know that HQ wonīt tolerate their agents being brutally murdered. We need to know that we can fight back even if we happen to break a few regulations."

She meant to say more, but faltered when she noticed the major was no longer listening. Holding her breath, she watched as Delaine slowly walked over to the prisoners, bending down to study each of their faces.

Only too aware of the people staring at her back, Jo was about to turn around again when one pair of eyes caught her attention. The eyes were wild and fearful, but the fear they displayed wasnīt human, It was animal like, raw and uncomprehending, and with no true perception of what was going on. Unable to stop herself, Jo knelt down, staring into the face of one very dirty and frightened young woman. Without really knowing why, she reached out, wanting to remove a lock of matted black hair from the womanīs forehead, but she hissed and recoiled, and Jo quickly withdrew her hand.

"Be careful, she bites."

Jo ignored the warning and continued to look into the womanīs eyes. She couldnīt understand why she was so fascinated by her, why she felt as if she should know her. Then, in the womanīs pale green irises, she saw her own reflection.

She saw herself.

As if burned, she jerked away, scrambling to her feet. Her heart pounding, she stared at the silently crying woman.

"Major?" Bradford hesitantly took a step closer, worried by the look on Delaineīs face. "Are… are you okay?"

"Yes," Jo replied hoarsely, swallowing a few times. "Iīm fine." She swiftly stepped away from the prisoners and consciously keeping her back turned said, "I understand your need for revenge, Lieutenant, and I agree with you that we have to make an example for the future. You have my permission to eliminate them, but I wonīt allow you to manhandle them in any way. A bullet each, as regulations dictate, thatīs it. I wonīt tolerate anything else."

"Major!" Bradford exclaimed in outrage. "With all due respect, I-."

"You heard me, Lieutenant!" Jo snarled, her eyes deadly cold as they bored into Bradfordīs. "I am not going to repeat myself! You will do as I say. Either kill them in the appropriate way or send for someone who will, I donīt give a shit. Just get it done!"

"Yes, maīam!" Bradford saluted stiffly, then issued a curt order to the two sergeants who after a cautious glance at Jo drew their weapons. "Before we start, Major," the lieutenantīs tone was fully professional and held no hint of the anger she was feeling, "do you wish to take the first shot? Itīs custom after all, for the highest ranking officer to carry out the sentence."

Joīs expression didnīt change as three pairs of eyes focused solely on her; the two of them expectant, the last one disdainful and challenging. Returning their stares one by one, she forced each of them to break eye contact before she without a word reached into her jacket to produce a gun. Still without speaking, she crossed the floor, coming to stand behind the prisoners. Raising her hand, she pointed the barrel at the back of the young womanīs head, forcing herself not to acknowledge the low whimper the act elicited. To her surprise, she saw that her hand was trembling and she had to tighten her grip until it was almost painful before she could keep the gun still.

"We donīt have all day, Major."

Jo barely managed to stop herself from pointing the gun at Bradford, having to take a deep breath in order to get her frayed nerves under control. Then she closed her eyes, trying not to think.

She fired once, hesitated for a split second before opening her eyes and firing four more times. Holstering her gun, she walked past the suddenly very silent agents, speaking over her shoulder as she reached the door, "I didnīt want them to wait for you to get yourself ready. Thatīs the difference between them and us, we can show mercy…" She paused, then added under her breath, "If only in death."

Halting abruptly, she turned to look at them, "Your friends have been avenged, their murderers are dead. Get rid of the bodies before they start to stink."

Then she was gone, leaving the agents to clean up and wonder what it was they had just witnessed.

***************

Checking her watch for the third time, Mickey sighed and went over to get her coat. She was expected at the Lawrencesī in thirty minutes for their customary Wednesday night dinner and she didnīt have the time to wait for Jo any longer. She had meant to tell Jo that she wouldnīt be home tonight earlier that morning, but when she woke up, Jo was already gone, leaving just a small note to say that she would be back later.

Before it became clear that Jo wouldnīt show up in time, Mickey had considered the question if she should ask Jo to come along, but recalling how it had been the last time and the fact that Sophia and Lawrence werenīt expecting another guest made her abandon that idea. Besides, she was pretty sure Jo wasnīt interested in going, once had been enough. And then of course there was Ralph to consider. He had been invited, too, and Jo probably didnīt feel like meeting any more strangers than she absolutely had to.

Itīs better I go alone, Mickey told herself as she buttoned her coat. Itīs safer. Whatever it is Jo has to do here, itīs better that she isnīt out in public too much.

Still, in spite of all her rational and mature reasoning, Mickey couldnīt help but feel a little unhappy that she wouldnīt be able to spend the evening with Jo. She knew she ought to have cancelled dinner, but the day at the clinic had been terribly hectic and she had forgotten all about until she came back home and then it was too late. She supposed she could call them and tell she wouldnīt be able to make it, that is, if she could remember their phone number.

After spending ten frustrating minutes trying to remember the number, Mickey gave up and walked over to the desk where she found the notebook Jo had used to write her message. Tearing off a page she was about to write one herself when she heard the door to her apartment open and someone stepped inside.

"Hi, sweetheart!" Mickey exclaimed happily without turning around, she would recognize her loverīs steps anywhere. "Glad youīre here, I was just about to write you a note."

She didnīt receive an answer, instead she heard Jo approach and strong arms slipped around her from behind. Covering Joīs hand with her own, Mickey waited for her to say something, but nothing came, and she twisted her head round, trying to see Joīs face. What she saw made her frown, but she had no time to identify the expression as it disappeared the moment their eyes met. Feeling Joīs hold loosen a little, Mickey turned in her arms so they were face to face. Brow furrowing, she reached up to gently wipe a bit of reddish dirt from Joīs forehead.

Studying the smear coating her fingertips, she looked up again, noticing the odd expression had returned to Joīs eyes. Clearing her throat she asked carefully, "This isnīt yours, is it?"

Jo stiffened, then abruptly released her and stepped away, bringing her hands up to touch her face.

"Itīs gone now," Mickey said quietly as Jo frantically wiped her forehead with her sleeve, studying the material intently for any trace of blood. Walking over to stand before her, Mickey put her hands on Joīs upper arms and looking into wan blue eyes asked again, "It isnīt yours, is it?"

Jo stared at her, almost as if she hadnīt understood the question, then she nodded quickly, "No... Itīs not mine."

"Care to tell me whose it is?" Mickeyīs voice was low and calm, holding neither accusation or reproach, just gentle concern, and inwardly she was impressed by how relaxed she was taking it all.

"Just..." Joīs gaze strayed to the floor, not comfortable meeting Mickeyīs eyes. "Just some guyīs. He was injured... in a fight and... and I helped him. I must have gotten some blood on me without noticing it."

Mickey knew she was lying, and she had no doubt Jo was aware of it as well, but all she said was, "I see. I hope heīs all right now."

"He is." Jo was staring at her hands now, surprised to learn she had clenched them into fists. She immediately unfolded them. Looking up, she noticed for the first time that Mickey was dressed as if she was going out. Her face showing neither thought nor emotion, she asked indifferently, "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes," Mickey answered, momentarily startled by the change of subject. "I... Iīm having dinner with the Lawrences."

"Oh..." Jo paused, then continued, "Tonight?"

"That would be obvious, wouldnīt it?" Mickey replied slowly, searching Joīs face, vainly trying to find out what her lover was thinking. "Itīs kind of a regular thing," she explained almost apologetically when Joīs eyes cooled just a little. "We have dinner every Wednesday."

"You canīt get out of it?"

For the first time that night, Mickey felt a small stab of irritation. Not just because Jo clearly expected her not to go, but also because she obviously expected not to have to tell her the real reason why she didnīt want her to, and Mickey was starting to get very tired of Joīs secretiveness and refusal to tell her what was going on.

"Look, Jo," she spoke tiredly, letting go of Joīs arms and moving away a few feet. "Canīt you just tell me whatīs wrong? I know you, I can tell youīre upset for some reason, but I canīt help you if you wonīt tell me whatīs going on. If you want me to stay, then fine, but for Godīs sake be honest with me. You have nothing to fear, donīt you know you can tell me anything?"

For the briefest of seconds, she thought she saw contempt on Joīs face, but then it was gone and she told herself she must have been mistaken. However, Joīs tone when she spoke, made her think she might not have been so far off after all.

"So I can tell you anything, huh?" Jo folded her arms across her chest. "Yeah right, like that would work."

"Now whatīs that supposed to mean?" Mickey retorted angrily. "Have I ever let you down in any way? Ever said something to someone I shouldnīt have?"

"No. Forget I said anything," Jo tossed her hands up dismissively and walked over to stand with her back against the wall. Regarding Mickey coldly for a moment, she asked dispassionately, "So youīre leaving now?"

Mickey met her gaze unflinchingly, incredulously taking in Joīs behaviour. Then, shaking her head lightly, she sighed and said, "Jo, Iīm not really sure whatīs going on here, what it is thatīs bothering you. You donīt want me to go? Is that it?"

Jo looked at her for a moment, her eyes almost angry, then she turned her face away and stared at the wall, her jaw clenching.

"Fine!" Mickey exclaimed in surrender, walking towards the door. "If youīre not going to tell me whatīs wrong, then donīt. But donīt expect me to stay here and hold your hand while you come to terms with whatever it is thatīs troubling you. I want to help you, but if youīre not going to let me, then I have better things to do with my time. Have a nice evening!"

"Mickey, wait!"

"What?!" Mickey turned around again, her irritation clear as her hand remained on the door handle.

Jo took a few steps away from the wall, subconsciously holding her hands out as if she was trying to grab something just out of reach. "Mickey..." She took another step, a myriad of emotions crossing her face, serving as a testament to the storm raging inside her, "Mickey, canīt you... I just want..."

Mickey raised her eyebrows, waiting impatiently, "Yes?"

Her response, or maybe attitude, seemed to catch Jo off caught and she faltered, straightening up a little. Then slowly her eyes grew hard and the corner of her lip curled up sardonically, "Never mind, go to your dinner, have fun."

Mickey stared at her for a second, then she turned her face away. Nodding slowly, she spoke, more to herself than Jo, "So thatīs how itīs going to be, is it? Youīre never going to trust me enough to let me help you. No matter what happens it will always be like this. Weīll talk a little, mostly about nothing, nothing serious of course, then weīll have sex, and then weīll talk some more before having sex again. Is that really all you want, Jo? Is that enough for you?"

Jo looked at her, then commented impertinently, "What else is there?"

"Thereīs love, Jo." Mickey turned her head abruptly, looking as though she was about to burst into tears. "Thereīs trust. There are two people willing to give each other everything knowing they might get hurt."

"Then stay."

"No," Mickey replied, her voice quiet but firm. "Not if youīre not going to tell me why." Not receiving an answer, and not expecting that she would, she shook her head and resolutely opened the door.

That finally prompted Jo into action and she shouted desperately, "Damn it, Mickey! This isnīt about you and me! All I want is for to you to stay! Whatīs the big deal?! I just want you to choose me over them, okay! I mean, youīre supposed..." Jo looked as though she was about to choke on the next sentence, forcing it past her lips, "God dammit! Youīre supposed to love me."

Mickey stiffened, then turned around slowly to look at her and Jo was shocked to see tears in her eyes. However, her voice was icy cold as she spoke, "You got a helluva lot of nerve to say something like that, Jo. How dare you question my love for you. How dare you!" She looked as though she wanted to say more, but she cut herself off and was silent for a moment before speaking flatly, "Now, if youīll excuse me, I have to be somewhere."

She continued outside, closing the door quietly behind her. For several seconds Jo was frozen, staring in disbelief at the door, then her head dropped and her shoulders slumped. Squeezing her eyes tight she whispered, "I donīt know what to do, Mickey… I just… donīt know what to do…"

Suddenly the despair left her and she raised her head again, her eyes narrowing, "Guess itīs just gonna have to be the way it always is. Iīll deal with it on my own." She snorted in contempt, mainly directed at herself, "Whatīs one more dead president anyway, or a few more people for that matter, itīs not like anybodyīs gonna miss them."

In spite of her caustically spoken words, a white hot rage rose out of nowhere and took hold of her and she abruptly turned and slammed her fist into the nearest wall. The pain did nothing to quell her anger and cradling her injured hand, she furiously began kicking the wall, again and again, until she had no strength left and her boot had left several black marks on the smooth surface. Unable to stay upright, she collapsed against the wall and slowly slid down, burying her face in her hands as silent tears of a strong, yet undefined pain ran down her cheeks.

***************

Searching her pockets for her key, Mickey quietly let herself in. She wasnīt surprised to find that the apartment was empty and that Jo wasnīt there. Without bothering to switch on the lights, she kicked off her shoes and tossed her coat onto a chair before sinking down onto the couch.

Dinner with the Lawrences hadnīt exactly been a cheerful affair. Both Sophia and Lennon had been able to tell that she was upset, but Mickey had avoided every attempt they had made to get her to talk about it. She wasnīt in the mood and she knew it wasnīt something she could discuss with them anyway. Sophia would only be worried and Lawrence would look sympathetic, but inwardly he would be smirking, enjoying what he saw as confirmation that he had been right. Also Ralph had been there and he didnīt know about Jo and Mickey had every intention to keep it that way. She wasnīt as paranoid as Jo, but she had a healthy sense of caution and saw no reason to tempt fate.

All she had said, when alone in the kitchen with Sophia, was that she had had received some disturbing letters she didnīt know what to think of, and that that was the reason for her absentmindedness and bad mood. Sophia had studied her for a moment, then asked without preamble if the letters were from Jo. Mickey hadnīt had the energy to come up with some kind of story and just said yes, saying that being separated for so long was taking its toll on them both. Sophia had given her a gentle smile before explaining that being apart was never easy, but that true love conquered everything. Mickey had smiled sickly in return, then excused herself to use the bathroom. There she had spent a few minutes trying to get her emotions under control, and not until she was sure that all traces of her having cried were gone did she go outside again. Not realizing that everyone present saw right through her and her attempts to put on a happy face.

"Damn you, Jo…" Mickey sighed deeply, putting her feet up on the coffee table. "It never gets any easier, does it?"

Leaning her head back, she stared up at the ceiling, resignedly speculating whether she would see Jo again before she left Neo Roma. Without conscious thought she began to draw small circles on the couch beside her then raised her head slightly to look when she felt paper under her fingers. It was a newspaper and she guessed it had to be Joīs since she hadnīt bought one. Not particularly curious she picked it up, idly studying the front page. It was too dark for her to be able to really read anything, so instead she looked at the photos, disinterestedly wondering if there was something going on in the world she should know. Something she had missed.

One photograph caught her attention and she shook her head slowly, speaking to the empty room, "Great, in nine days weīll have another Lingstrom as president. Youīd think one was bad enough."

Folding it together, she was about to throw it onto the coffee table when suddenly she froze. Staring at the paper in her hands, she slowly opened it again, her eyes searching out the picture of a smiling Andreas Lingstrom exiting a building.

"No…" she spoke out loud, her voice full of disbelief. "It canīt be…" She continued to stare at the photo, a hundred different thoughts simultaneously racing through her mind. "No… No, thatīs impossible…"

Unable to remain sitting, she leapt to her feet. When she realized she was still holding the newspaper, she dropped it like it was on fire. "No, youīre wrong, Mickey," she said vehemently. "Youīre imagining things. Itīs just a coincidence, thatīs all."

Unconsciously she began pacing the floor, her eyes never leaving the newspaper, "No, I donīt believe it. It wouldnīt make sense, it wouldnīt-." Abruptly she stopped, unseeing eyes staring straight ahead, "Yes, it would. It would explain everything."

For a long time she stayed like that, completely still, then slowly, as the thought gradually made itself heard in her mind, she turned her head, looking toward the bed and the oblong case she knew she would find underneath it. She hadnīt asked when her lover had disappeared for about an hour the night before, returning with a duffle bag and the case. She had assumed that the bag contained clothes, and the case… Well, if she had to be perfectly honest she would have to admit that she hadnīt wanted to think about what it might hold.

Now, feeling almost like she was in trance, she walked over to the bed and knelt down, hesitating for just a second before reaching in under it. Her fingers instantly connected with a cool, metallic surface and she drew back, pulling the case with her. For several moments she stared at it as if she was afraid it would bite, then with forced casualness she touched the combination lock, but was shocked into still stand when she realized it wasnīt locked.

You donīt want to know, a voice called out in her head, frantically trying to be heard over all the others. You really donīt want to know.

True... Mickeyīs fingers grazed the mechanism that would open the case. But I have to.

Two loud clicks sounded and placing a hand on each side, Mickey slowly lifted the lid, revealing various pieces of black metal that put together would create a long distance riffle. A long distance riffle with infrared foresight. Hugging herself tightly, Mickey closed her eyes.

"You shouldnīt have done that."

Somehow Mickey managed not to show how startled she had been by Joīs voice, but only looked up to meet cool and emotionless blue eyes. Instead of answering, she said quietly, as if that explained everything, "I saw the newspaper."

Jo nodded slowly, her face impassive, then she knelt down beside her and quickly closed the case. Without looking at Mickey she locked it and then returned it to its place under the bed. Keeping her eyes averted, she spoke evenly, "I canīt talk about it. Itīs not that I donīt want to, I just canīt."

"I understand," Mickey replied in a whisper, not having the faintest idea what else to say. Turning her head, she gazed intently at Jo until she reluctantly met her eyes. Knowing that it probably wouldnīt make a difference, but that she was unable not to try anyway, she said softly, "Please be careful. I love you so much, I canīt bear the thought of something happening to you."

Something resembling a smile flickered across Joīs face and before Mickey knew what had happened, she found herself enveloped in a strong and secure embrace. "Nothingīs gonna happen to me," she more felt than heard Jo whisper into her ear. "I swear. I got too much to lose."

They held onto each other for what could have been an hour, maybe two, neither knew for sure and none of them cared. Then gradually Mickey detected a change in Joīs body and she felt Joīs hand slowly begin to caress her back as a low voice husked, "Iīm sorry about earlier, I was being a jerk. I was just disappointed that you had to go." Moist lips pressed against her temple for a second, "We have been apart for so long and Iīve missed you so much. I want to spend as much time with you as I possibly can."

Pulling away a little, Mickey looked into Joīs eyes, giving her a hopeful, if slightly desperate smile, "Baby, thatīs what I want, too! I hate it when youīre so far away and I donīt know if youīre in danger. Iīm so sorry that we argued, I really am, and I know the circumstances are tricky, but maybe we should-."

"Shh…" Jo interrupted, placing a finger over Mickeyīs lips. "Letīs not talk about that when thereīs something else we could be doing." She leaned forward to give Mickey a kiss that left no doubt as to her intent. Taking a moment to map out Mickeyīs mouth with her tongue, she moved on to kiss her throat and then neck, whispering seductively against her skin, "I want you, Mickey. Iīve been thinking about you all night and the things I want to do with you."

Before Mickey could answer, she was being pushed down onto the floor, and any reply she might have had remained unspoken as Joīs mouth forcefully found hers again, while strong and insistent hands tore on clothes in their relentless search for bare skin. And to her surprise, Mickey realized that the hands were hers.

***************

Chapter Fifty-One

Grimacing against the strong smell of smoke, sweat and something else, she didnīt really want to know what, Jo paused just on the other side of the door, trying to orientate herself in the room where only a few red spotlights directed at a stage in the centre served as lighting.

"Hey, Delaine!" A voice called out, trying to make itself heard over the loud music. "Over here!"

Jo turned her head in the direction of the voice and spotted a balding, scruffy man sitting directly below the stage, waving his hands at her. With a deep exasperated sigh, she walked past the bar, noticing to her satisfaction that the bartender didnīt even look up, but continued to watch the girls dancing on the stage.

Drawing a chair out, she glanced disinterestedly at the woman moving past them who saw her look and paused for a few seconds to do something with her breasts that Jo until then hadnīt thought was humanly possible. Looking away, she levelled a cold stare at the man in the opposite chair, "Next time, Nat, do you think you could shout my name just a little louder?"

"Oh, cīmon, Major," the agent grinned at her, pulling a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe his moist forehead. "Lighten up! Weīre in a strip club fer cryinī out loud! Who the hell should recognize you here? Unless of course," he leaned across the table towards her, giving her a conspiratorial wink, "you come here in your spare time?"

"Right," Jo threw a glance at the dancing women, sighing inwardly. "I visit sleazy strip joints all the time. So…" She unzipped her jacket halfway, the heat in the club beginning to make her sweat, and she suddenly wished she hadnīt brought her gun so she could take it off completely, "What have you got for me?"

"This." Nat reached down under his chair and pulled out a briefcase which he placed on the dirty and sticky table between them. He opened it, took a quick look around, but as the only three other patrons in the club were all following the dancing, everything seemed safe and he took out a few sheets of paper. "Here youīll find everything you need to know. Everything from the route heīll be taking, the schedule for the day, when heīll speak, to where the security personnel will be stationed and so forth and so on. I can even give you a draft of his speech if youīre interested."

"Ah no," Jo replied absently, going through the papers and not really listening. "I think Iīll pass on that one. I spent enough time hearing him go on and on about his grand designs for the future the last time I was in Neo Roma. I donīt really need to hear all that again."

"Well," Nat grinned broadly, reaching for the half empty beer glass standing at his elbow. "In that case I bet youīre glad you were the one picked to kill him. It must be sweet getting the chance to shut him up once and for all."

Jo looked up slowly, her face inscrutable, then she smiled slightly, but the smile didnīt reach her eyes, "Itīs the biggest turn on ever."

The agent stared at her, unable to tell whether she was joking. However, she had to be so he laughed weakly, but as her expression didnīt change and she continued to look directly at him, he started to feel uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, he searched for a way to divert her attention and suddenly remembering where they were, he turned his chair toward the stage, gesturing eagerly, "Speaking of turn ons, donīt you think the redhead in the back is one of the finest looking examples of the fairer sex you have ever seen?"

A cold little smile flickered across Joīs face as she noticed his discomfort, then she turned her head, her gaze finding the woman he was referring to. Studying the dancer for a moment, she said casually, "Sure, sheīs not bad. A bit too scrawny for my tastes, but otherwise youīre right." Folding the papers Nat had given her, she stuck them inside her jacket, then asked, "Anything else?"

"What?" The agent had been absorbed in watching the redhead, who noticing his attention and eyeing the possibility for a little extra income, had strutted her way over, dancing directly before him. "Oh, about the papers! No, that was everything. They contain all the information you need."

Taking a gulp of his beer, his brow furrowed as he saw Jo rise from the chair and close her jacket, "Hey, youīre not leaving already, are you? Stay a little, keep me company. Iīll even buy you a beer if you like."

Jo regarded him for a moment, her face as blank as it had been from the second she stepped inside. Then she glanced up at the redhead who smiled enticingly at her, swaying her hips in rhythm with the music. Nat, seeing her indecision, hurried to add, "You can even get them to dance on your lap if you pay them for it. Now, thatīs not something you want miss, is it?"

Jo returned her eyes to him and he gave her a small, surprisingly friendly smile, speaking quietly, "Why donīt you allow yourself to unwind a little, Major? Take a load off? You know you deserve it, we all do. Also, in a couple of days when everything is over, you wonīt be able to do anything like this for a very long time, youīll be under ground. So why donīt you sit back down and enjoy yourself for awhile? Besides, itīs not like you have anywhere better to be, is it? People like us never do…" Sadness showed briefly in Natīs dark blue eyes, then it disappeared without a trace. "So, what do you say? Wanna join me?"

Jo glanced at her watch; it was past two in the morning, Mickey would be sleeping now. At least she should be. Thinking of Mickey suddenly made her feel guilty and the guilt made her angry. She couldnīt exactly tell why, just that it did. Biting the inside of her cheek, she quickly made her decision.

"Sure, why not?" Jo gave Nat a distant smile while trying to get eye contact with the bartender. "I got nowhere else to be. You were saying something about a beer, werenīt you…?"

***************

Turning her head sideways, Mickey inhaled deeply, trying to fill her lungs with some much needed air. Her loverīs weight was keeping her pinned against the mattress and whenever Jo shifted on top of her, her face was pressed forward and down into the pillow, making it difficult for her to breathe.

With Joīs hot, panting breaths washing over the back of her neck, Mickey tried to push the pillow away and off the bed, but suddenly her arms were caught in a death grip above her head.

"Donīt move!" Jo gasped hoarsely, picking up her pace and thrusting harder. "Donīt…! move…!"

Mickey complied and made herself relax, blinking vainly to remove the damp strands of hair that kept falling into her eyes. She tried to concentrate on the feel of the slick and sweaty body covering her back; the feel of her loverīs hard abdomen moving against her buttocks every time Jo pushed forward, but in spite of the pleasure and desire she was experiencing, in spite of the strong sensations Jo was creating inside of her, she was beginning to feel uncomfortably trapped.

Before she could properly examine the unfamiliar and unsettling line of thought, Jo shifted and groaned into her ear, "God… you feel so good, baby… You feel so fucking good…"

Almost without pausing, she used the hand that wasnīt holding Mickeyīs to reach underneath the blonde, pulling her hips up from the bed to increase the contact between them. The higher angle also made it possible for her to thrust deeper, and she did so with abandon, causing Mickey to cry out in both pleasure and surprise. Raising her torso a little, Jo gazed down at Mickeyīs smooth back, watching how her own drops of sweat fell and gathered with the moisture already visible on the fair skin. Mickey felt the pressure on her upper body cease and she tried to move herself into a more comfortable position, but immediately Jo pushed her back down, her grip tightening around Mickeyīs wrists.

Squeezing her eyes shot, Jo thrust faster, more frantically. She was so close! She had been for several moments. But each time she thought she was there, the release she so desperately craved eluded her, and no matter how hard she moved into her lover, no matter how much she increased her rhythm, it didnīt appear to make any difference. She was starting to become desperate and all of Mickeyīs attempts to help bring her over only succeeded in making her more frustrated and testy.

She knew of course, that if she got rid of the strap-on and allowed Mickey to touch her, she would come within seconds, but she wasnīt going to do that. She had wanted Mickey like this all day. She didnīt know why, but for some reason it had been all she could think of, and she would be damned if she wasnīt going to do it. Even if her treacherous body didnīt want to co-operate.

Deep down, Jo was aware that maybe it wasnīt her body that was the problem, but she had done as she always did; pushed away the thoughts she didnīt want to have.

"Jo…" Mickeyīs senses were on overload and her body was aflame. She wasnīt sure how much more of Joīs insistent onslaught she could take. "Jo, please…"

Grinning savagely, Jo altered her rhythm slightly and slipped her free hand in between Mickeyīs legs. Mickey instantly stiffened, for several long heartbeats her body was frozen a few inches above the sheets, then her hips bucked wildly and she breathlessly whispered Joīs name.

Jo watched in satisfaction as Mickey collapsed down onto the bed, her breathing ragged and loud. Waiting until the last tremors had subsided, she began to thrust again, determined to find some relief of her own, but suddenly she halted, confusion and uncertainty flickering across her flushed face as she heard whimpering from the woman beneath her.

Once more fighting for breath, Mickey managed to gasp out, "Baby, wait… Not so soon. Itīs too much, I canīt take it. Please wait a little."

Had Mickey had the strength to turn around, she would have seen Joīs features harden almost imperceptibly as her eyes narrowed, displaying a callousness seen more often at the other end of a gun then in the face of a caring lover. Without a word, Jo resumed her motions, groaning deeply when she felt Mickey push back against her.

"Jo! Jo, stop! Youīre hurting me!"

Gritting her teeth, Jo ignored her and continued, closing her eyes in relief as she finally felt herself nearing her long sought climax.

Eyes closed, concentration somewhere else, Jo never saw the blow coming. With impossible strength, Mickey pulled her hands free and twisted her torso halfway around, slamming her fist as hard as she could into Joīs jaw. So much force was put into the blow that Joīs head snapped backwards and she tumbled off of Mickey and the bed, landing heavily on the floor.

Disbelief and anger written all over her face, Jo slowly pulled herself up into a sitting position, her muscles quivering and her body taut as a spring, making her look very much like a panther that could lunge at Mickey any second. Opening her mouth to speak, she was shocked into silence when Mickey shouted, tears streaming down her face, "What the hell is wrong with you?! I told you to stop!"

Head swimming from the blow, Jo stared at her, the look in her eyes filled with such a cold fury that Mickey felt as though a stranger was looking back at her. Then, from one second to another, Joīs entire body began to tremble violently and she seemed to collapse. Hugging herself tightly like she was in pain, she bowed her head, rocking back and forth as her body continued its convulsive shaking.

Anger and fear turned to confusion as Mickey watched the crouched woman on the floor before her, and she realized with a start that the low, keening sound she heard was coming from Jo. It sounded so much like a wounded animal that she felt afraid to move and motionlessly stayed where she was, a variety of painfully conflicting emotions battling for dominance in her heart. Then, abruptly and without hesitation, she moved forward and carefully knelt down beside Jo, absently reaching back to grab a blanket from the bed to cover them both. Reaching in between them, she silently removed the strap-on from Joīs hips and tossed it away before pulling her sobbing lover into her arms.

Gently rubbing her back, Mickey felt Jo bury her face into her neck, warm tears coating her skin as sob after sob wrecked through her shivering body, "Iīm sorry! Iīm sorry! Iīm so sorry!"

"Shh…" Mickey murmured softly. "I know you are."

Jo didnīt seem to hear her and just continued, her words brimming with anguish and self-abhorrence, "I didnīt mean to hurt you! I never want to hurt you! Iīm sorry! Iīm sorry!"

"Itīs okay, baby," Mickey whispered, slowly rocking Jo in her arms as her hand continued its soothing stroking of her back. "Itīs okay. You just lost yourself for a moment. Itīs okay."

Gradually the sobs subsided and Joīs body stopped shaking. For a long time silence lingered in the room, then Jo whispered, her voice cracking, "Iīm so sorry, Mickey. Please donīt leave me. Please donīt leave me."

It was a plea she was to repeat several times in the hour it took for Mickey to calm her down enough to persuade her to go back to bed. And each time, without ever wavering, Mickey promised that she wouldnīt.

***************

Joīs arm around her waist tightened, unwilling to let her go, and in spite of herself Mickey couldnīt help but smile at the familiar mumbled protest that escaped her still sleeping loverīs lips as she gently extricated herself from her. Once free, she began to walk towards the bathroom, but after a few steps she faltered, turning around to look back at Jo.

It had taken Mickey a long time to get her to calm down and neither of them had fallen asleep until the early hours of the morning, and if it wasnīt because she had to go to work she would have stayed in bed.

They hadnīt spoken much last night. Jo had curled up on her side, facing away from her, her body rigid and tense and as close to the wall as possible. However, Mickey would have none of that and had moved closer until Jo had no choice but to turn around. She had done so, but with great reluctance, and to Mickey it had seemed as if Jo was afraid to touch her. Somehow, Joīs fear had eliminated whatever fears she had left of her own and she hadnīt relented until they were nestled into one of their favourite sleeping positions, her head on Joīs shoulder and Joīs arms wrapped tightly around her. After that, they had finally both managed to fall asleep, both taking comfort in their closeness.

Mickey sighed, then continued the rest of the way to the bathroom. Inside she headed directly for the shower and turned on the water. Her head was heavy and foggy and she desperately hoped a bath would make her feel better. Resting her forehead against the cool tiles, she closed her eyes and felt herself begin to relax as the hot water washed most of her exhaustion away.

With nothing else to occupy her, her thoughts inevitably drifted back to the night before and without really being aware of it, she slid down the wall until she was slumped on the shower floor, her eyes closed.

She had been frightened; both by Joīs behaviour and her own reaction. She had never hit anyone as hard as she had Jo last night. Her wrist and knuckles were still hurting from the impact.

Raising her head, Mickey opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, oblivious to the drops of water that hit her face. Whatever it was that had happened between them in bed, it wasnīt something she ever wanted to experience again. Jo had acted like a complete stranger with no compassion or regard for her feelings. And at one point it had been as though she didnīt even hear her, that she had been too far away in her head for Mickey to reach her.

Actually, Mickey admitted to herself, Jo had been distanced and acting strange for some time now, she just hadnīt wanted to acknowledge it until now. It had begun shortly after her arrival in Neo Roma, and it couldnīt just be written off as a result of the argument they had had and those who had followed. Almost immediately Jo had turned remote and edgy, cold, and the few times she was home she had hardly spoken a word, but had been taciturn and tense. Mickey had witnessed her take out the riffle and hold the pieces in her hands for what seemed like an eternity before she deftly assembled it, stared at it for a moment, then just as quickly took it apart again. Only to repeat the process until Mickey feared for her own sanity and begged her to stop.

She had realized that becoming withdrawn and introvert was Joīs way of dealing with the stress she was feeling, the pressure she was under, but she also wondered if there was something else that bothered her lover. However, every time she had tried to broach the subject, Jo abruptly cut her short, telling her that everything was fine and that she shouldnīt get involved.

Pretty soon it had become clear to Mickey that instead of having Jo back, she had gotten Major Delaine. She had gotten the soldier preparing herself for a task she obviously wasnīt comfortable with, but had no choice but to carry out, and it was taking its toll. The fierce control Jo usually had of her thoughts and emotions was beginning to slip, and nowhere had it been more obvious than in bed.

Because I liked it, Mickey silently answered the voice in her head, owning up to something she hadnīt been willing to admit to herself earlier. I thought it was exciting.

And it had been. With Joīs slow but distinct transformation, their love life had changed as well. Gone were the soft endearments, the tender declarations of love and forever. Instead it had been a purely physical affair, rough and frenzied, passionate but almost impersonal, and with no words ever exchanged. Afterwards Jo would roll over and fall asleep, leaving Mickey to gasp for breath as she tried to get her bearings and wonder what had just possessed them.

At first it had been thrilling and incredibly exciting to let all inhibitions fly and just take what one wanted. But it didnīt take long before Mickey had begun to miss the intimacy they had shared, the bond she had always felt between them when they made love. She had attempted to tell Jo how she felt, but it had been hopeless. Jo was out for longer and longer periods of time and they rarely saw each other. Where she went or whom she met, Mickey didnīt know, but each time when she did come back, Jo was more brusque and cold than ever, and always with a strong sexual hunger for Mickey that the blonde had been unable to resist.

And it had all culminated last night.

***************

Shivering, Mickey abruptly noticed that the water running down her body was no longer warm, but ice cold. Wearily, she got to her feet and turned it off before stepping out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around her, she slowly came to a halt, staring impassively at her reflection in the mirror.

"Mickey…"

Mickey turned around to see a partially dressed Jo standing in the door. As always, she hadnīt even heard her approach. She tried to smile, but it faded the moment she saw the dark bruise on Joīs jaw. Jo noticed her expression and quickly stepped over to the mirror to have a look all the while making sure not to stand too close to her. Cringing inwardly, Mickey watched in silence as Jo gingerly touched her face, studying her bruised jaw.

Their gazes met in the mirror and Jo smiled weakly, speaking quietly, "Your boxing lessons certainly seem to have paid off." She paused, then added almost inaudibly, "Iīm just sorry you were forced to use them on me last night."

"Iīm sorry," Mickey began, taking a step towards her, but Jo held her hand up, both to stop Mickeyīs approach and her words. "Donīt, Mickey, donīt apologize. You had every right to hit me last night and have absolutely nothing to feel sorry for. I was the one who acted like a bastard, it was me hurting you and I deserved everything I got." She looked away, her eyes dropping to the floor, "If not more."

For a long time Mickey looked at Jo without speaking, then she nodded imperceptibly and asked softly, "What happened?"

Jo bit her lip, still unable to meet Mickeyīs eyes. A pained and confused expression flickered across her face and she spoke slowly, stumbling over each word, "I… I donīt know… It was… it was like I suddenly… I suddenly stopped caring. I didnīt… I was…" She raised her head to look into Mickeyīs eyes and practically whispered, "I was suddenly so angry. At myself… at you… everyone, and I… I…" She shook her head in despair, "I donīt know. Iīm just so sorry, I never meant for anything like that to happen."

Mickey swallowed, not knowing how to respond to the guilt and shame she could detect in Joīs words. And what was even more pronounced, the resignation that seemed to have taken a complete hold of her; she was like a prisoner waiting to be brought before the executioner.

"Jo, look at me." Mickey waited until Jo who had been staring at the floor again hesitantly looked up.

Looking directly into her eyes, Mickey spoke in a low, but calm voice, "You scared me last night." Jo flinched as though as she had been struck, but didnīt break eye contact. "I donīt ever want you to do that again," Mickey continued, closing the distance between them and placing a firm hand on Joīs cheek. "You scared me and I reacted accordingly. I realize this is something weīll have to talk about, but right now we donīt have the time. I have to go to work and…" She faltered for just a second. "And tomorrow Lingstrom is being sworn in. So all I want from you now is a promise that youīll never do this again. Never."

They stared at each other, both knowing the other was thinking whether such a promise really was worth something; if it could salvage anything until they had time to discuss what had happened. Joīs lips moved soundlessly with all she wanted to say, but then she nodded, forcing the choked confirmation past her lips, "I promise."

"Good," Mickey smiled. It was brief and pale, but it was nearly genuine. "Then weīll let this rest for now. I have to get ready and so have you."

She gave Jo another little smile and was about to walk past her when a hand on her shoulder halted her, "Does… does that mean…" Jo spoke uncertainly, her eyes worriedly searching Mickeyīs face. "Does that mean...."

"Does it mean what?" Mickey inquired softly.

"Does that mean you still love me?" The words were out before Jo could stop them.

A pained, achingly bittersweet smile showed on Mickeyīs face and she said gently, "Yes, Jo. Thatīs exactly what it does… I still love you, I always will. Donīt you know that by now…?"

She received no answer and Jo wouldnīt meet her eyes. Sighing deeply, Mickey left the room and this time Jo didnīt try to stop her. As Mickey began to dress, absently and mechanically, the only thing coming from the bathroom was silence.

***************

Mickey slammed the door to the medicine cabinet so hard that all the pill bottles nearly fell off their shelves. She wasnīt sure what she was the most; angry or terrified. And on top of that she didnīt know whether the anger she felt was directed at Jo or the Organisation, at Lingstrom or herself. Possibly all of the above.

She had honestly thought she had reconciled herself with what Jo was going to have to do, but this early morning as Jo had been about leave, she had realized she was wrong. Also, the fact that they hadnīt had the chance to resolve anything concerning what had happened between them, and that Jo put herself into the utmost danger trying to fulfil the task was only making it worse. Mickey had practically begged her not to go, pleading with her not to take the risk. Jo had patiently listened to all her arguments, but it had been clear from the start that she wasnīt going to change her mind and Mickey had known it, too. Only when she began to cry, she had seen a chip in Joīs impeccable armour and she had seemed indecisive and shaken, but just as quick as the moment of weakness had arrived, it disappeared again. Jo had promised to be careful, gave Mickey a kiss on the top of her head, and then she was gone.

Instead of having a complete breakdown as Mickey more or less had expected she would, she had entered into a strange state of calm, feeling almost like she was living in a fuzzy and blurred dream. And on the way to work, she had actually been able to think of and do little mundane things, even at one point stopping to enjoy the scent of flowers before entering the Slums. Of course, in the back of her head, Mickey was aware that she was currently in a state of extreme denial. However, since she didnīt know how else to deal with the situation, she hadnīt done anything to get out of it. Unfortunately, as the clock ticked on, and the hour drew close to five when Lingstrom would give his speech in front of the Council building, it was getting harder and harder to pretend not to know what was going on and what would happen.

She hadnīt known whether to laugh or cry when Lawrence had shown up with a small, portable TV so they could watch the ceremony. She had said that she wasnīt aware he was interested in politics, but the doctor had only given her a big grin, saying that he wasnīt interested in the speech, but that he was hoping someone would use the opportunity to pop the bastard and if that happened he wasnīt going to miss it for the world. After that, Mickey had had to excuse herself for several minutes, hiding out in the bathroom until her stomach had stopped churning and the nausea was gone.

"Sophia! Mickey! Itīs starting!"

Mickey took a deep breath and followed Sophia into the examination room, closing the door behind them. She wasnīt surprised to see that her hands were shaking and she quickly tucked them into her pockets.

"Whereīs Ralph?" she asked as she walked over to stand beside the doctor and his wife who were both sitting on an examination table, intently watching the screen.

"Oh, heīs not coming in today," Lawrence answered absently without taking his eyes off the TV. "He called to say that most of the streets in the city have been sealed off and itīs impossible to get anywhere without special clearance."

"Heīs looking awfully smug, isnīt he?" Sophia commented as the camera showed Lingstromīs car turning onto the street leading towards the Council building, the soon-to-be president waving and smiling to the crowd.

"Well, if you think about it, heīs got an awful lot to feel smug about," her husband replied, scanning the faces in the crowd for anyone he might know. "Heīs had a fast track career from the day he was born and heīs only in his early forties, heīs the youngest president weīve ever had. Oh look! Thereīs the rest of the Council. Ha! Some of them donīt look too happy."

A shot from above, taken from a helicopter, showed the twelve council members sitting on a platform just behind the rostrum Lingstrom would be speaking from. Some of them looking decidedly bad-tempered, practically sulking. Mickey recognized the tall and thin and brightly smiling woman sitting in the middle as Victoria Walder, the woman she and Jo had run into during their sightseeing tour of the Forum Romanum. The thought instantly made her think of Jo again and she almost angrily pushed it away.

The limousine came to a halt and was immediately surrounded and shielded by the bodyguards who had been following it the entire way from the city centre.

"Heīs well looked after," Lawrence stated casually. "Look at all the helicopters, Iīm telling you, only half of those are carrying cameras, the rest are on the lookout for snipers and troublemakers."

"Who would be crazy enough to try anything with all those soldiers running around," Sophia said, giving her husband a little indulgent pat on the knee. "Face it, dear, itīs not going to be today you get your wish. Lingstromīs going to be with us for a very long time."

Mickey was glad that both of them were looking at the TV because she knew her face would give her away should they turn around. Forcing all thoughts from her mind, she watched Lingstrom ascend the stairs, taking a moment to wave at the people cheering on the other side of the street, kept well in check with both soldiers and dogs in case anyone should get any ideas. Shaking hands with each of his fellow council members, all of them now smiling, he then walked over to the rostrum and silence began to fall as he prepared himself for the speech.

Using the moment, the camera languidly swirled away, taking close-ups of various smiling faces in the crowd and little children holding flowers and flags.

"Hmph!" Lawrence snorted to himself. "Wonder how many of them have been hired to do that."

The camera continued, taking a tour of the entire plaza and the Council building before coming to rest on a small group of security people standing some distance away from everything, one of them gesturing wildly.

"Hey! Isnīt that Ralph?! The one to the right?!"

Mickey went deadly pale, her eyes taking in the sight of something that couldnīt be, but in that exact moment Lingstrom started to speak and the picture changed back to the rostrum.

"No…" Sophia began uncertainly, her brow furrowed as she glanced back at Mickey. "You must have been mistaken, dear. Donīt you agree, Mickey? I mean, what would Ralph do there? He doesnīt belong to the Councilīs security forces, heīs a medical student. Isnīt that so, Mickey? Mickey…?"

Mickey didnīt answer, her mind racing. Without a word she stepped closer, staring so hard at the screen that her eyes began to sting. The camera was still showing Lingstrom talking, but she didnīt hear a word. Instead she was watching his face, his mouth as it moved, his eyes as they blinked and the small beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Everything looked like it was in slow-motion, then something seemed to happen, Lingstrom faltered and glanced to the side. The camera zoomed out a little as three black clad men rushed toward him and he opened his mouth to say something, but instead the strangest expression appeared on his face and he looked down.

Sophia gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth as an small circle of red grew larger and larger on his shirt. For an endless second Lingstrom stared at the wound, then he fell backwards, directly into the arms of his bodyguards.

"Sweet Jesus…" Lawrence mumbled in utter shock and disbelief. "Dear God in Heaven, heīs been shot…"

Chaos erupted among security and the crowd. People began screaming, seeking cover and attacking anyone who got in the way in their frantic search for an escape. The pictures on the screen began shifting in such a rapid succession, like the cameramen didnīt know what to film, that no one was able to tell what was happening, then suddenly one camera took over.

Like an enormous vulture, the helicopter hovered in the air, showing four rottweilers racing across a rooftop followed by five soldiers with their weapons drawn. All of them chasing a single dark figure sprinting towards the end of the roof.

"Oh my God…" Sophia whispered. "Oh my God… It canīt be…"

Frozen, her face cut in stone, Mickey watched as her lover got closer and closer to the edge, looking for all the world as someone intending to throw herself into a certain death. But then, inches before she would have reached the end of the roof, the dogs were over her, bringing her down.

"Mickey, donīt look!"

Lawrence tried to block her view, but she forcefully pushed him away, ignoring everything except what was showing on the screen. Jo was buried under a mass of frenzied dogs and all she could see was a few glimpses of skin and clothing as a body struggled to get up. Then, so gradually it almost went unnoticed, the grey surface of the roof began to discolour beneath her, blood slowly seeping into the cracks and crevices. And then, from one heartbeat to the next, the body stopped moving.

Abruptly the screen went black and after a few seconds a sign appeared, apologizing for technical difficulties and a request to remain on the channel. Shortly afterwards soft music started to play to sweeten the wait for those who remained faithful.

***************

To Be Continued…