"Shut up, Russell! Iīve been listening to your goddamn voice for forty-eight hours, and if I have to hear one more bad joke I swear Iīm gonna throw you off the truck headfirst!"

Joīs eyes snapped open as the angry words tore her from her pleasant dream and blinking quickly before directing a steely glare at the now arguing men, she growled, "Both of you, shut up! And stop acting like children. Iīm trying to get some sleep here."

The blond soldier who was the one to initially wake her up shot an angry glance at the man beside him who he obviously thought was to blame for the entire thing and then began defensively, "Iīm sorry, Lieutenant, but it wasnīt my fault. Russellīs been going on and-."

"I donīt give a fuck, Sergeant," Jo interrupted sharply. "We all have to be here." She straightened up, her eyes taking in the sight of the huddled and miserable looking group of soldiers around her. Then she sighed, subconsciously softening her tone, "Look, guys, I know none of us are thrilled to be travelling like this, but weīre almost there. Iīd really like to think that we can through the last couple of hours without killing each other. You know thatīs only gonna make it a whole lot messier."

That earned her a few reluctant smiles and a few nods and after a bit of shuffling and sighing, the soldiers leaned back against the tarpaulin, some staring forlornly at their boots, some at the person opposite them, but conscious not to make eye contact. Temperaments flared too easily in ninety degrees.

They had been cooped up in the back of the truck for more than two days, with only three five minute breaks per day to get the stiffness of out their bodies and to take care of their personal business. The air inside the small, cramped compartment was stuffed and foul, and Jo suspected that neither of them were smelling very well, not having had the possibility to shower or change for longer than she cared to remember.

Her uniform was hot and sticky, her feet were practically boiling inside her boots and she was exhausted and miserable, missing Mickey terribly. For the last hours, she had been drifting in and out of sleep, desperately trying to ward off the headache she could feel just behind her right temple, but the jerky movements of the truck and the arguments among her fellow soldiers had ensured that it was a losing battle.

At first it hadnīt been so bad. They had begun their journey at dawn three days ago and spirits had been high, everybody eager to get away from the capital, but as the temperature rose and time seemed to come to a halt, the mood had deteriorated rapidly.

As the highest ranking officer, Jo had thought it her responsibility to lighten the mood and had done what she could, inquiring about each of the soldiers plans for their leave and their future placements, but after a while she couldnīt muster the energy to look interested and even the most self-absorbed soldier had been too uncomfortable and thirsty to want to talk anymore.

She had tried to fall asleep, but the less than furtive glances from people around her prevented her from relaxing and sheīd had to keep a firm hold on herself in order not to tell them to mind their own bloody business.

She knew what they were thinking, of course. What they were all thinking. It was the same thing that everybody first thought of when they heard who she was or recognized her from description. And Jo was sick and tired of it, but didnīt have a clue as what to do about it and was with some justification assuming that calling them on it would only make matters worse.

Like everybody else they were wondering how much truth there was to the old rumours circulating about her and the leader of the Organisation, rumours that refused to die even though it was more than a year ago they had even been in the same room together. However, Jo had dryly realized a long time ago that not even professional soldiers or trained killers were above gossiping and she hadnīt really cared most of the time anyway, but now she found herself getting increasingly irritated and angry at some of the innuendo and overly chummy and knowing looks she was subjected to.

During the endless ride east, she had come to the conclusion that it was because of Mickey she was suddenly feeling this way. That it was only because she didnīt want her lover to worry or be upset when there was no reason to, and thus had nothing to do with herself or the fact that she was on her way to see Messina for the first time in sixteen months.

Eventually, Jo had managed to sleep a little and at one time had even had a few rather vivid and erotic dreams about Mickey, which, while they lasted, had been quite pleasant, but in the end had only served to make her feel even more desolate and unhappy when she woke up and the blonde wasnīt there. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts to recapture the dreams, she had preferred to just stay awake and focus her mind on the practical arrangements she would have to see to when she arrived at Sigma 5. That had kept her mind occupied for an hour or two until the heat and exhaustion finally got the better of her and she joined the soldiers around her in a fitful and troubled sleep.

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

The small hatch in the wall separating the compartment from the cab slid aside and the chauffeur spoke quietly, barely making herself heard over the rattling of metal and the noise from the overheated engine, "Lieutenant? Could you come here for a moment?"

Jo raised her aching head slowly, then sighed and got to her feet. On unsteady legs she made her way towards the chauffeur, ignoring the low curses and complaints from the men whose feet she accidentally stepped on along the way.

"What is it, Charlie?" Jo grabbed onto the sides of the hatch to keep herself upright in the erratically moving truck, then poked her head in as far as it would go. "Problems?"

"Well," the black woman spoke slowly, glancing back at Jo while keeping an eye on the road. "You know the village Sigma 5 occasionally trades with, the one located a couple of miles from the base?"

"Jáskövesd? Yeah, I know it. What about it? We should be driving through it soon, right?"

"Yes, we should and maybe Iīm overreacting or something, but…" The chauffeur trailed off thoughtfully, unconsciously easing her pressure on the accelerator.

"But what?" Jo asked impatiently, too tired to let the woman come to her own conclusion in her mind before telling her. "What is it?"

Hearing the unspoken order to get to the point, the chauffeur continued, meeting the lieutenantīs gaze in the rear-view mirror, "Well, the thing is that usually this road is pretty much deserted which of course is why we use it. Thereīs hardly any traffic aside a few tractors, harvesters and stuff like that, and often not even that."

"But?"

"But for the last couple of miles Iīve seen several tire tracks from jeeps and I may be wrong, but they appear to all be heading in the same direction as we."

"I see…" Jo tugged at her lower lip absently, blue eyes staring intently out of the windscreen. The sandy road was indeed showing signs of having had a small convoy coming its way. "Organisation vehicles? Other transports?" She turned her attention back to the patiently waiting chauffeur. "We might not be the only ones going to Sigma 5."

The woman shook her head, "No, I wouldīve been informed. We always keep radio contact when there is more than one truck on the road, itīs routine procedure."

Jo nodded and was quiet for a minute, contemplating the situation before meeting the chauffeurīs eyes again, "Iīm not familiar with these parts of the country, so youīll have to help me. Have there been any skirmishes between the Organisation and the villages here? Any conflicts?"

"No," the chauffeur slowed the truck once more, looking away from Jo to search the road ahead. "Not with the villages, but a few paramilitary groups, gangs really, have been causing a few problems, raiding villages, taking people for ransom and so forth. They donīt dare to mess with us of course, but they have become quite a threat to the smaller villages that are too afraid to report it in case the Council finds out about their connection to us."

"Paramilitary groups, you say…" Jo tasted the word, grimacing lightly. "Well, if what youīre saying is true then there is some possibility that weīll be driving straight into an organized attack on Jáskövesd."

"Yes," the chauffeur agreed simply, having expected the lieutenant to reach the same conclusion as she had. "It would seem so." She paused for a second, then turned in her seat to look directly at Jo, "What are we going to do about it?"

Jo couldnīt help but grin. The look in the womanīs eyes and her use of `what are we going to about itī instead of `what are we going to doī told her that whatever she came up with, the chauffeur would be game.

She knew of course that regulations said they werenīt allowed to interfere with civilian problems without prior permission, or unless if it was an emergency situation, endangering the Organisationīs interests, but regulations aside, Jo knew she couldnīt just drive through a village being raided. Besides, Jáskövesd was trading with Sigma 5 to some extent and it couldnīt be of the movementīs interest to have gangs running around undermining all the work they had done to get the civilians to trust and support them. And then of course there were the rumours that some of the groups were founded and equipped by the Council who paid them to wreck havoc and then claim to be from the Organisation thus moving public, and international, opinion against them.

"How many inhabitants in the village?"

"Fifty, sixty, not more."

"Hmm…" Jo glanced back at the sleeping soldiers behind her. Including the chauffeur and herself they were fourteen. Not many, but at least they were all armed sufficiently. "How big are those gangs usually? Which weapons do they use?"

"Size varies. Everything from ten to fifty and theyīll be having at least one firearm each, usually machine-guns."

"Peachy," Jo muttered to herself, then cursed loudly when the truck hit a bump in the road and almost threw her off her feet and onto the lap of a quietly snoring corporal.

"Sorry."

"Not your fault," Jo gave the woman a strained smile once she had regained her balance. "Caught me off guard, thatīs all. Okay, Charlie, I want you to contact Sigma 5, tell them we need at least twenty-five to thirty men to instantly come to our aid throwing a couple of bandits out of Jáskövesd."

The chauffeur nodded quickly, encouraged by the determination she had detected in the lieutenantīs voice, but then she hesitated, looking at Jo uncertainly, "They might not want to come when they hear the reason. They usually only move out when some of us are under attack."

"I know." Suddenly hard and emotionless blue eyes focused on her. "And by the time they get there we will be."

Then Jo turned around and giving the nearest man a light kick with her boot shouted, "Wake up, ladies! Plans have changed! Seems like we wonīt make it in time for dinner after all."

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

Jo ducked a split second before a bullet would have splintered her scull.

Staying low, she ran along a house wall, only pausing to look when she had to pass one of the many shattered windows. Ahead of her was the villageīs town square complete with a small fountain from which several fragments of marble sprayed out into the air every time a new rain of bullets headed that way.

Jo was aiming for the yellow house just behind it. That was the house where the leader of the two dozen bandits had sought refuge once he realized who his new opponents were. Opponents who had come from the truck that had suddenly raced into the village, unloading fully armed and belligerent soldiers on its way.

Within moments, five men were dead, four having fallen victims to bullets, another one killed by a pitchfork wielded by the man whose son they had used for target practice the day before. Jo had hoped that the inhabitants would, if not join them, then at least not oppose or complicate matters for them, and she hadnīt been disappointed. Most had disappeared into their houses the moment they realized that the new force didnīt belong to the guerrillas and that fighting would ensue, but a few had stayed behind to help them. Unfortunately, that also meant that civilian casualty had been inevitable and high, seven villagers already having succumbed to their injuries in the twenty minutes the shooting had taken place. However, that only served to make the remaining inhabitants fight twice as hard and Jo realized with some morbid satisfaction that that was exactly what they needed.

The Organisation was known to be ruthless against anybody who tried to soil its reputation or take advantage of the people it depended upon, and none of the guerrillas wanted to be taken alive so Jo knew they needed all the assistance they could get. Even if all what the villagers did was to add to the chaos and confusion going on around her.

Pausing at the last house before the town square, Jo glanced around, noticing several of her fellow soldiers edging their way along the houses toward her. Suddenly a shot was fired and Jo instinctively pulled her head back, another bullet passing only inches away. Replacing the clip of her machine-gun she was about to repay the hidden shooter when suddenly the door to the yellow house was flung open and a young boy stumbled outside. He hesitated for about a second then started to run straight toward her, but a loud explosion coming from another part of the village halted him in his tracks and he sought cover behind the crumbling fountain instead.

Frowning, Jo stared at the huddled form that shivered in terror every time bullets hit the fountain or the ground close to him.

"Lieutenant? Are we moving in?"

Jo turned halfway to look at the man crouching behind her while still keeping an eye on the boy, "Is the area behind us cleared?"

"Yes, maīam. There were only a few men there and they were too drunk to offer much resistance. Seems like they were having a party just before we arrived."

"I see. Thatīs gonna come in- Shit!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Jo saw a small black object being thrown out one of the windows in the yellow house and she immediately threw herself down on the ground, pulling the startled soldier with her. The sound of an exploding hand grenade followed a few seconds afterwards and Jo felt the wall next to her shake from the force.

"Jesus! Theyīre well equipped!"

"Yeah," was Joīs curt reply as she got to her feet again, carefully moving away from the wall to get a better look at the fountain. The small boy was still there, but was covered in debris and dust and Jo couldnīt detect any movement. Grimacing in both annoyance and indecision, she looked around, seeing how the soldiers were all waiting for her signal to storm the building.

"I want you to take ten men and move in on them from behind. The rest is gonna stay here and attack as soon as youīre in position. I want as much confusion and as much noise as possible. I want them to think theyīre being attacked by an army of hundred instead of fourteen."

"Yes, maīam!" The soldier saluted in acknowledgement which almost resulted in him getting his head shot off and Jo gave him a disapproving look, but didnīt comment and instead signalled to the soldiers behind her to split up. In no time, ten men began to move back and then around, quietly slinking away in the rapidly gaining darkness. Waiting for the gunshots that would inform her of their arrival, Jo glanced at her watch, then back at the boy. The reinforcements from Sigma 5 ought to have been there by now. Unless of course their request had been denied.

"Now!" Joīs voice was almost drown out by the sound of furious gunfire coming from the other side of the house. "Keep low!" She stayed where she was for a second or two, watching how the remaining soldiers plus the chauffeur ran toward the building, firing at everything moving, then left the relative safety of the wall, directing a shot at a face she suddenly spotted in one of the windows. Running past the fountain, by now almost destroyed, Jo heard a low keening sound, but didnīt falter and instead continued towards the bullet ridden door, determined to follow her comrades inside.

Then another hand grenade was thrown outside, landing heavily on the ground and rolling a couple of feet to come to rest directly next to the boy.

The thought flashed through Joīs mind so fast that it almost went unnoticed, but then she skidded to a halt, hesitated for half a heartbeat, before her body switched to automatic and she sprinted back to the fountain, eyes locked on the oddly harmless looking device lying at the boyīs feet.

As always, a strange sense of detachment suffused her and acting purely on instinct, Jo barely slowed down to grab the boyīs collar, hauling him forcefully away and up into her arms. She managed to take almost seven more steps then the world exploded and everything was turned upside down. The force from the explosion lifted her off her feet and flung her through the air, the boy torn from her grasp. Dazed and with ears ringing form the bang, Jo felt it like she was in the air for several seconds before she was thrown hard against a brick wall, the impact momentarily knocking her unconscious.

Vision blurred and head throbbing, Jo unsteadily got to her feet a short time later, unfocused eyes darting aimlessly around, searching for something though she couldnīt quite remember what it was. She dimly picked up the sound of vehicles approaching, but the reddish fog before her eyes refused to clear and the ongoing exchange of fire behind her made it impossible for her to determine where the trucks were coming from.

Looking around, Jo realized she had dropped her machine-gun somewhere, but before she could find it, she heard steps directly behind her. Spinning around, she just maintained her balance, ready to throw herself at whoever or whatever she would find.

Almost as quickly as she had moved, she froze, her mouth opening soundlessly. Wide eyed she stared at the soldier before her for a moment, then deadpanned slowly, "Oh… Itīs you…" Then her legs collapsed beneath her and with an almost astonished expression on her face, Jo sank to her knees, the world suddenly spinning too fast for her to keep up. Strong arms seemed to appear out of nowhere, halting her descent and Jo groaned weakly, "I donīt feel so good…"

All she heard was a low and familiar laughter and then a voice, seemingly coming from far, far away, said, "Donīt think this is getting you off the hook, Delaine. Youīve broken practically every regulation in the book."

"Iīve learned from the best," was all Jo could whisper in reply before her eyes rolled back in her head and she lost the battle against the pain in her head, her body going limp in Iris Messinaīs arms.

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

As if she had just been asleep, almost from one second to another, Jo regained consciousness. Without blinking she stared at the ceiling above her, her mind completely blank, but then her memory, together with the pain, returned and she sat up slowly. She found herself sitting on a cot in a small and dark room with no furniture, other than a chair and a cupboard, and the only light visible was coming from underneath the closed door she spotted a few feet away.

Reaching up, Jo gingerly touched her head, surprised to feel a thick bandage wrapped around it, and as she let her hand fall back down and looked at her fingers, she noticed a small smear of red on her skin. Staggering to her feet, she swayed briefly as nausea hit with full force, but after a few deep breaths she felt better and the pain in her head gradually turned into a constant, but nonetheless bearable throbbing.

Taking quick stock of her body, Jo counted several scratches on her arms and legs, but aside from that and various aching muscles she didnīt detect any serious injury. She was certain that her head injury wasnīt too bad either, otherwise she wouldnīt have been left unobserved. Looking around for her clothes in the dark room, it took her a few minutes before she came to the reluctant conclusion that they werenīt there, and that the undershirt and boxers she was wearing now was what she had to face in whoever might be on the other side of the door.

Too tired and dazed to really care, Jo simply walked over to the door and opened it, not even pausing to have a peek before she went inside. She looked around and found herself in a dimly lit office that, although she had never been there before, felt instantly familiar and she wasnīt the least bit surprised to see the woman perched on the desk in front of her, drinking directly from a bottle of Scotch.

"Canīt leave you alone for a moment, can I?"

Messina looked up, "The same could be said about you." She put the bottle away and slid down from the table, but didnīt make a move to step closer, "So… Howīs the head?"

"Fine. Iīll survive," Jo answered indifferently, already having dismissed the injury as insignificant herself.

"I knew being so thick-headed would benefit you one day."

A long silence followed after the blondeīs words as they both took in the sight of each other, comparing the person before them to the image they had in their minds.

"You look good," Jo then stated, her eyes resting briefly on Messinaīs face before travelling around the room. "Vlad still does the decorating I see."

"Yeah." Messina answered, reaching behind her to take a folder from the desk. "Here," she offered it to Jo who stepped over to take it. "I thought you might want to know how your little venture ended."

Browsing through the pages for a minute, Jo then looked up and said matter-of-factly, "We won."

Her face a mask, the blonde said flatly, "I could have you prosecuted, you know."

Jo met the cool blue gaze, "I know," she carelessly tossed the folder back on the desk without breaking eye contact, "but you wonīt."

Messina straightened up, eyes narrowing imperceptibly, then she shook her head, smiling faintly, "No… No, I wonīt, but maybe one day…" Hesitating for a second she then closed the distance between them and gave the startled lieutenant a quick hug, "Welcome back, Jo. Itīs been dull around here without you."

Unable to contain a smile, Jo returned the hug, "Somehow I doubt that." Then she let go and moved a few steps away, not quite able to meet the eyes she felt on her. Another long silence followed, but then Jo let out a low breath and looking back at her superior asked with a small smile, "You wouldnīt happen to know where my clothes are, would you? I feel kinda exposed running around like this."

Barely managing to hold back the remark that suddenly manifested in her head, Messina smiled fleetingly and gestured to a battered couch standing against the far wall, "You might find something of use over there."

Turning around, Jo stepped over to the couch and picked up the garments draped over the back. Frowning, she let her eyes run over the dark material before looking back at the blonde, "This isnīt mine."

"Check the name," Messina answered unaffectedly, watching Jo with interest. "Your nameīs still Delaine, isnīt it?"

"Yeah," Jo mumbled absent-mindedly, "but last time I checked I wasnīt captain."

"Well," the blonde answered, walking over to stand beside her, "you are now."

Joīs brow furrowed, "For what?" Her eyes took on an angry glint as she stared at her superior. "For getting myself blown up?"

Messina laughed out loud, "Jo, if getting yourself injured was the way to move up the ranks, youīd have made general a long time ago! No," she paused, her voice becoming serious, "youīve been promoted because you deserve it. Thatīs the only reason." Their eyes met. "Nothing more, nothing less."

Several expressions flickered across the newly appointed captainīs face, then she nodded slowly, "Okay… Thank you…"

The blonde nodded silently in return before changing the subject, "If youīre up to it, Iīll go get Vlad. Heīs been dying to see you ever since he heard you had been brought in. You can get dressed in the meantime."

"Sure," Jo smiled absently, eyes still on the uniform. "Iīd like to see him again."

"You can change in there," Messina indicated the door Jo had come through earlier. "Thatīs going to be your room anyway while weīre at Sigma 5."

"Oh?" Jo looked around, searching for another door. "Whereīs yours then? If Iīm going to be in charge of your personal safety then Iīll need to-."

Raising a hand, the blonde stopped Joīs words, "I know, Delaine, I know. And trust me, youīll get all the information you need, but not right now. Now I want you to go in there and get dressed and then weīll talk about everything afterwards. Okay?"

The captain looked like she was about to argue for a moment, but then she grinned, "Yes, maīam. As you wish, maīam. Whatever you say, maīam."

Raising an eyebrow, Messina smiled then turned around and left the room without commenting. Jo stared at the door for a second, half-heartedly trying to figure out whether their first meeting in more than a year had gone good or bad. Then she gathered whatever clothes she could find and returned to the small room to change.

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

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Going through her closet, Jo searched out a black t-shirt and shorts, noticing to her dismay that both items had seen better days. Shrugging off the thought, she dressed and then quickly pulled on a pair on running shoes before heading over to the door that led outside.

Pausing for a moment to stretch, Jo let her eyes run over the silent compound, practically void of any human activity. Of course, not a lot of people were up at four a.m. unless they absolutely had to be. Picking up an easy pace, Jo jogged slowly towards the gates, filling her lungs with the still cool morning air. The guards saw her come and began procedures to open the gates in time for her arrival.

Just as Jo ran through, nodding to the yawning soldiers on the way, a young blond man joined her from behind and followed her outside.

"Dane," Jo acknowledged as she picked up a slightly faster pace down a small path circling in and out of the dense forest Sigma 5 was located in. "Jo," Dane mumbled in return, lengthening his steps to keep up with the captain. "Nice morning."

"Hmm," Jo grunted noncommittally, mindlessly scanning the trees around her.

For the next thirty minutes they ran in silence, following the same route they had used for the last two weeks. When approaching the slope that marked the end of their run, Jo slowed down, allowing Dane to catch up with her and they ran the last mile side by side.

Wiping his brow, Dane turned to look at Jo who to his chagrin didnīt appear to be as affected as he by the exertion, "Youīre in great shape."

"Thanks," Jo smiled briefly, "You have to be, keeping up with our glorious leader."

In silent, but mutual agreement they sat down onto a rock hovering just at the edge of the slope, watching the sun leisurely make its way up at the horizon. Resisting a strong urge to fidget, Jo kept her gaze fastened on the small stream just below the descending slope. Inhaling deeply, she suddenly felt herself fill with determination and she turned her head abruptly towards the young man sitting calmly beside her, "Dane, I canīt take it anymore. Please say something."

Dane turned around slowly to face her, the expression on his face unreadable, "About what?"

"You know what!" Jo said sharply, instantly regretting her tone. "About Mickey and me," she continued in a lower voice. "I know she wrote you and told you that… that…"

"That youīre together?" Dane completed for her when Jo didnīt seem to find the right words. "That youīre in love?"

Jo stared intensely at her friend, trying to gauge his mood, but for once she found that she was unable to tell what he was thinking, and the look on his face remained blank, neutral. "Yeah," she then said slowly, "that." She was silent for a moment then continued, "For the last two weeks, practically since we met again, weīve been acting like everythingīs normal, like everythingīs the way itīs always been."

Jo tried to meet Daneīs eyes, but he was staring straight ahead. "You havenīt said anything about Mickey and me being together, and you havenīt even said anything about the stuff in V3." Unnerved by not getting a reaction, she finished meekly, "You havenīt even mentioned the letter I sent you… Why is that?"

Dane shrugged, his face still turned away, "What do you want me to say, Jo? Itīs not like thereīs anything I can do about it anyway. I canīt make Mickey fall out of love with you. I canīt change any of whatīs happened. I canīt undo the past, and neither can you for that matter, so whatīs the point of saying anything?"

Jo bit her lip, saddened by the resignation she heard in her friendīs voice. "That may be, but…" She faltered, then said simply, "Why donīt you hate me, Dane?"

The young man remained in the same position for what felt like a very long time, then he turned to meet Joīs eyes and said quietly, "I love you, Jo. I consider you one of my best friends. I really donīt want to hate you if I can help it. And I can," he added with a faint smile. "Not that itīs been easy, though, and I think I did hate you for a minute or two, but that was mainly because of how the entire thing affected Mickey. You see, Jo," Daneīs eyes had grown distant and to the captain it looked like he was seeing things that had taken place a long time ago, " Maybe Iīm one of those peculiar self-sacrificing people who actually care more about the happiness of the people I love than my own. I suppose you could claim that I derive some satisfaction of my own to see friends happy, knowing I had something to do with it, but thatīs beside the point."

He blinked and gentle blue eyes focused on Jo again, "For a time I was very angry with you. Not just because of the heartache you were causing Mickey of course, Iīm not that big a man, but eventually I had to accept that Mickey really was in love with you, in spite of everything, and that her feelings for you by far surpassed anything she had ever felt for me."

"Dane, donīt say that," Jo began, but was gently, but firmly interrupted by the young man who gave her a slightly melancholic smile. "Donīt sweat it, Jo. Iīve come to terms with that a long time ago, and, to be perfectly honest, it didnīt really come as that much of a surprise. I knew Mickey had a crush on you when we were teenagers and I guess I just thought, or hoped, that that was all it was and that it would pass… but it didnīt."

Dane sighed, staring absently at the gently flowing stream, "I tried to fool myself for a while, tried to pretend that everything was fine and that it didnīt mean anything when Mickey would become all distant in the middle of a conversation, or that she never seemed to be as attracted to me, physically or otherwise, as I was to her."

"Ah… Dane," Jo shifted uneasily on the rock. "I donīt really want to hear about this."

"Oh?" Dane raised his head to look at her, and for the first time Jo thought she detected a note of hostility in his voice. "Well, thatīs just too bad, Jo, because you asked for it and now youīre going to hear about it. Whether you want to or not. Mickey was a mess after Vega and you left me to pick up the pieces. How do you think it feels to be the shoulder to cry on when the person doing the crying happens to be the woman you love? Who incidentally is mourning the loss of someone else? How do you think that is, Jo? Itīs hell and by the time I finally stopped feeling sorry for myself and less angry at you, it started all over again, but this time it was on Mickeyīs behalf when I at last understood that it wasnīt just something that had happened, that it hadnīt been a casual or insignificant fling to her. She loved you, Jo. She loved you all the time she and I were together and when you showed up again, for the first time in more than three years, you managed to seduce her, take her to bed and then break her heart. All within twenty-four hours. Thatīs quite an accomplishment, wouldnīt you say?"

"I didnīt sleep with her," Jo mumbled awkwardly, staring intently down at the ground.

"But you would have," Dane commented evenly. "If you hadnīt been so drunk, you would have."

"If I hadnīt been so drunk, it would never have happened in the first place," Jo replied defensively, but her voice lacked conviction. "I wouldnīt even have kissed her."

"Right!" Dane snorted, but he sounded more amused than sarcastic. He waited until the obviously very uncomfortable captain met his gaze before continuing, "Tell me something, Jo… Of all the women who were there, not to mention Christa who wouldnīt have thought twice of going with you, of all them, why did you choose Mickey? Was it because you wanted new blood? Wanted to see if you could do it? Whether she still had the hots for you? Or was it simply because she was there? At the right place, at the right time?"

Jo opened her mouth to answer, but no words came forward and as her lips moved soundlessly, a small, slightly triumphant smile flickered across Daneīs face. "It took me some time to figure it out, but apparently not as long as it did you. You asked me earlier why I didnīt hate you and the reason is, and do correct me if Iīm wrong, that you didnīt end up with Mickey by coincidence. You ended up with her because she was the one you wanted. It wasnīt because you were drunk, or because you wanted some entertainment for the night, it was because, deep down, you were already in love with her. And thatīs why I forgave you, Jo," he concluded softly, smiling briefly at the shocked expression on the captainīs face. "You didnīt do it to be an arsehole, you simply did the only thing you could think of, acted the only way you felt comfortable with expressing your feelings."

Jo stared dumbstruck at him for a moment then shook her head vigorously, "No, Dane. No. Youīre wrong. Itīs a very noble image you got going there, and Iīd really wish it were true, but my motives were far from honourable. Iīll admit it wasnīt a coincidence that it was Mickey and not somebody else, but that was only because I was attracted to her, and besides, there were certain things going on in my life at that time which I didnīt want to think of, if only for a night. And being with Mickey seemed as good a way as any to achieve that. It wasnīt…" Jo cleared her throat a few times, her eyes having returned to the ground. "It wasnīt because I was in love with her. How could I be? I hadnīt seen her for almost four years."

"Hmm… I see," Dane nodded thoughtfully to himself, "but you did think of her sometimes, didnīt you?"

"Sometimes."

"And you did like her, right?"

"Well, of course. Mickeyīs… Mickeyīs a very… very likeable person," Jo concluded lamely after having searched her brain for something that would properly express her feelings. "Iīve always thought she was a very nice person."

"A very nice person," Dane repeated slowly. It appeared as if he was examining each syllable, but before Jo had the time to elaborate he asked bluntly, "When you heard Mickey and I were an item, what did you feel?"

"Nothing." Joīs gaze was locked on her feet. "I was happy that youīd fallen in love with such a nice and beautiful girl, but that was all."

"So you didnīt have any problems with it?" Jo shook her head. "It didnīt bother you at all?" She shook her head again, all too aware that the increasing heat of the rising sun was starting to make her sweat.

"Did you ever dream about her?"

Jo lifted her head abruptly, "What?!"

"You know what I mean," Dane grinned, seemingly fully recovered from his earlier display of bitterness. "Did you have those kind of dreams about her?"

"Thatīs none of your business!" Jo snapped, helpless to stop a blush from appearing on her cheeks. "And… and even if I did that wouldnīt mean anything. People have dreams like that all the time for no specific reason."

"Youīre right, Jo," Dane smiled broadly. "I take everything back. You werenīt in love with her. It wasnīt because you were having feelings you didnīt understand or know how to deal with. You were simply just being an arsehole."

Again, Jo opened her mouth to speak, but paused because she didnīt know whether to protest or agree. Then she rose from the rock and looking down at Dane said quietly, "I just liked her. I wasnīt in love. I just liked her… thatīs all."

"Itīs okay, Jo," Dane answered gently, rising from the rock as well, "I believe you. Itīs not like it matters anyway. The only thing that matters is how you feel now, right?"

"Exactly," the captain agreed with emphasis, consciously choosing to ignore the amused gleam in her friendīs eyes. "I would have known back then if I was in love with her."

"Of course you would," Dane stated readily, giving her a look. "I know you, youīre far too perceptive a person not to have known."

And then he sprinted down the path, laughing loudly, knowing that Jo would catch him before he had rounded the first corner.

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

Carefully adjusting the microscope. Mickey stared listlessly at the delicate pattern slowly coming into focus before her eyes. There was no doubt, the Reuma virus had mutated into yet another kind. A kind that seemed to have even more resistance against the blue pills than any previous mutation.

"You see it, too, donīt you?"

Mickey sighed before looking up at Dr. Lawrence who was standing silently beside her, "Yes, Iīm afraid so."

Lawrence shook his head in despair, sinking down onto a chair, "I donīt get it. Hundreds, no thousands of scientists all over the world are searching for a cure or a vaccine against Reuma, but nothing seems to make a difference. Thereīs no progress whatsoever. The virus mutates and develops more and more resistance, and nobody has a clue as to what to do about it."

"Maybe itīll mutate itself to death," Mickey offered half-heartedly, giving the distraught and wan looking doctor a tired smile. "Itīs been known to happen."

"Yes… maybe…" Doctor Lawrence touched his chest absently and was lost in thought for a moment before exhaling deeply, "Shall I, or do you want to…?"

"Sheīs my patient. Iīll do it," Mickey answered and quickly walked out of the room before she could change her mind. She passed the ragged patients waiting more or less patiently in the corridor and went into the other examination room, closing the door behind her.

A dirty and pale, but otherwise healthy looking young woman was standing in the back of the room, staring at the walls. She instantly spun around when she heard the door and visibly relaxed when she saw it was only Mickey. Hesitantly, she stepped closer and the dull expression in her eyes slowly gave way to fear and apprehension, causing the blonde to take a deep breath, steeling herself for what she had to do.

"The results?" The pale woman tentatively took one more step forward. "The test? What did it say?"

Although it wasnīt the first time Mickey had had to deliver news like this, her tongue still felt dry and she cleared her throat softly, "Letīs sit down first." She put a hand on the womanīs shoulder and gently steered her over to a chair before speaking as kindly and calmly as possible, "Iīm sorry, Gina, but the test was positive. You have Reuma."

For a second Mickey thought the patient hadnīt heard or understood her because she received no reaction whatsoever, but then she saw the young womanīs shoulders sag just a little as if a heavy burden had been put upon them. A minute of silence went by then, strangely composed, Gina nodded slowly and asked, "What about the baby?"

Mickey closed her eyes briefly, then said steadily, "I wonīt lie to you, Gina. The risk that your baby has been infected is about sixty-five to seventy-five percent. I would have to make another test to be sure, but unfortunately we donīt have the equipment at the moment. Weīve had to pawn a lot lately to be able to afford medicine. However…" Mickey kneeled down before the woman, putting her hand on a protruding kneecap, "Not all babies get it. Some are born healthy. Itīs not an everyday occurrence, but it does happen and those children are often, not immune, but they seem to be better equipped to deal with the disease than most."

Gina smiled bitterly, but there was no anger in her voice as she spoke, only resignation, "Save it, doc. I know where itīs heading. I was born here and although I donīt know any statistics or percentages, Iīve seen the results with my own eyes. Babies with Reuma just arenīt supposed to make it… And maybe thatīs for the better," she added after a moment of awkward silence. "Maybe itīs Godīs way of making amends."

"Well, I wouldnīt know about that," Mickey commented neutrally, personally having let religion out of her work a long time ago. "But thereīs another aspect to this, Gina, and thatīs you. Youīll have to start taking medication to keep the virus at bay. Do you have the means for that?"

"I live in the Slums, Doctor," Gina replied with a tired and humourless smile. "Doesnīt that answer your question?"

Mickey nodded desolately, having known the answer all along. Nobody ever had the money to buy the medicine they required to keep them healthy and, more importantly, alive. Sometimes they would beg her for a few tablets, but she never had any to give, and in the few cases they actually had a bit of money to spare, they would take the risk of purchasing the cheaper, but notoriously dangerous and unpredictable substitutes on the black market. Products, which at best made them addicted, at worst saved them any further worrying by killing them instantly. And then of course there were those who took their own lives, people who felt that jumping from a bridge or putting a bullet through your head was a better alternative than slowly bleeding to death internally.

"He doesnīt know Iīm here, you know. I havenīt told him."

"Sorry?" Mickey had been so caught up in the ghastly images in her head that she had missed most of what Gina had been saying. "What did you say?"

"I said that Tony doesnīt know Iīm here. He was so excited about the baby that I didnīt have the heart to tell him that I might have been infected." For a split second Ginaīs voice broke, then she collected herself and spoke in a strained, but calm tone, "Guess Iīll have to tell him now, wonīt I?"

Mickey could only look at her helplessly, knowing there was nothing she could do or say to make it better. Gina noticed the expression on the blondeīs face and smiled meekly, "Itīs okay, Doctor Renault, weīll manage somehow, Tony and me. We love each other and thatīs a rare thing in these parts… It has to be worth something."

"It is," Mickey said earnestly, inwardly wondering who she was trying to convince."

"Yeah," Gina answered dreamily. "He might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, or the best looking guy in the world, but heīs a good man and he stays clear of all the gangs here. Heīs sweet and caring, and he loves me. Thatīs all that matters."

Mickey had to smile at the young womanīs suddenly happy expression, while simultaneously doing her utmost not to speculate on how much time Gina and Tony were likely to have left to spend together.

"Itīs good to be loved, Doctor. It makes the buildings around here seem a little less dreary and the alleys a little less dangerous. Itīs not much, but itīs something… How about you?" Gina returned from her daydreaming to look at Mickey. "Do you have someone who loves you?"

"Yes," Mickey smiled faintly. "Yes, I do."

"Whatīs his name?" Gina asked with interest, momentarily forgetting her own predicament. "Is he a doctor like you?"

"Her name is Jo, and no, sheīs not a doctor. She…" Mickey hesitated for a second. "Sheīs in the army."

"You must worry then," Gina responded softly then got to her feet, apparently not wondering about which army her doctor was referring to. She pulled her flimsy coat around her in spite of it almost being eighty-five degrees inside the examination room. "Being a soldier is a dangerous business, no matter what or whom youīre fighting for."

Mickey, suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to see Jo, could only nod and give Gina a hollow smile. She watched in silence as the young woman walked to the door, quietly heading back to wherever she had come from to tell her lover she was dying. And with her, their baby.

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

September 2047

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

Chapter Forty

"Excuse me, Mrs. Lawrence?" Mickey and Sophia both raised their heads and looked toward the half open door to see a young man with glasses peek inside. He smiled tentatively and continued, "My nameīs Ralph Greenberg and I swear Iīm perfectly harmless. May I come in?"

Mickey and Sophia exchanged a glance, then the elderly woman rose from her chair, smoothing her skirt as she did so, "Of course, Mr. Greenberg, our break is just about over anyway."

They watched as the young man stepped inside, both noticing his casual, but obviously rich clothing and his well-groomed exterior.

"So, Mr. Greenberg, what can we do for you? If you donīt mind me saying it, you donīt exactly fit in with the rest of our patients."

Ralph smiled at Sophia, looked briefly at Mickey then returned his gaze to the grey-haired woman, "Well, itīs not so much what you can do for me, but more a matter of what I might be able to do for you. You see, Iīm a third year medical student here in Neo Roma and a few days ago, I heard that Dr. Lawrence who usually runs this clinic had taken ill and I thought that perhaps you could use a little help."

"Where did you hear of Dr. Lawrence?" Mickey asked coolly, studying him closely. They usually tried to stay as anonymous as possible and she wasnīt sure she liked the idea of Lawrenceīs bad health being known outside their little circle. Or the existence of the clinic for that matter.

Friendly pale brown eyes turned her way and Greenberg smiled reassuringly, "Donīt worry, Doctor Renault, this isnīt common knowledge. The fact is, however, that this clinic is very well known on campus and in university circles. Some disapproves of course, but most of us believe more in following the Hippocratic Oath than Council politics. We all admire your work here."

"Oh?" Mickey wasnīt impressed. "If thatīs so, then how come none of you have ever offered to come and help us. God knows we could use it."

The young man suddenly looked uncomfortable and shuffled his feet lightly, "Well… Of course you got a point there, Doctor, and Iīm not proud to admit this, but as you know most of us belong to the better part of society and we all have our careers to think of. It could do a lot of damage to your future career prospects, not to mention your parentsī reputation, if it was known you were working as a volunteer in the Slums." He looked directly at her, "You know that the Slums arenīt talked about in polite society and that the Council would prefer it if we didnīt even know of its existence."

"Weīre all aware of that," Sophia spoke wearily, the elderly woman looking more exhausted than usual since she now both had her patients and her husband to take care of. Her husband without doubt being the most difficult which in the end was more due to his attitude than his condition. "However, if youīre really serious about wanting to help, Mr. Greenberg, then Iīll have to ask you why? Why the sudden change of heart? If you know how unfavourable working here is?"

Ralph shrugged, "Call it guilty conscience? A wish to do something good for a change? I donīt know, I just know Iīd very much like to work here as much as my studies allow me. Not only will I be able to help people living here, but I will also gain a lot of experience that is sure to benefit me in time to come. I know, Iīm not as qualified as Dr. Lawrence, but Iīm as fast learner and of course you wonīt have to pay me anything. Iīd be doing this because I feel itīs right, not to make a living."

"Thatīs good," Sophia gave him a small smile. "We wouldnīt be able to pay you anyway." She turned to Mickey, a questioning expression on her face. "Well? What do you think, Mickey? Itīs just as much your call as itīs mine."

Mickey regarded Ralph Greenberg for a long time. She couldnīt particularly claim to like him. Maybe it was his smooth manners, his brilliant white teeth or his upper-class confidence that bothered her, or perhaps all the things combined, whatever it was, she didnīt like him. She knew of course that she wasnīt being reasonable and reluctantly had to push her dislike aside and began trying to decide whether she would be comfortable working with him. Which, after all, was all that mattered.

There was no question they could use the extra help. Ever since Dr. Lawrenceīs stroke, she and Sophia had been working double time trying to keep up with the never-ending stream of patients. While Mickey was still young, having just celebrated her twenty-second birthday, she knew that the long hours were taking their toll on Sophia and that the elderly woman was pushing herself far harder than good was. That in the end turned out to be the decisive factor.

"Okay, letīs give it a shot," Mickey began, smiling briefly at the young man. "Weīll see how things go the next couple of days and if it works out, and youīre still interested, youīre welcome to come and assist us as much as time allows it. I have to warn you, though, thereīs nothing glamorous about working here, and I promise you that thereīll come a time when youīll ask yourself what the heck youīre doing here when you could be doing an internship in some grand and luxurious hospital."

Ralph smiled at her words, but the smile seemed half-hearted, "My father owns a grand and luxurious hospital, Doctor, and trust me, thatīs the last place I want to be."

Taking turns to shake hands, they sealed the deal, all of them wondering what the future would bring.

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

"-I really, really love you, Jo! Youīre my best friend in the whole wide world!"

"I really love you, too, Basil," Jo grinned, trying to remove the incredibly strong arm that was snaked around her neck in a death grip.

"Vlad, my boy!" Basil shouted suddenly, directly into Joīs face and she winced. Basilīs breath was almost enough to make her drunk as well. "Bring me and my friend another beer!"

"As you wish, Sergeant!" Vladimir shouted in return in spite of the fact that they were sitting at the same table and then stumbled to his feet and staggered through the bar.

"Heīs a good man, Jo," Basil exclaimed, looking seriously at his friend. "And I know Iīve just met him, but I think I might just love him, too. Not as much as you of course, but still."

"Iīm sure heīll be thrilled to hear it," Jo answered, finally managing to liberate herself from Basil. Looking around, she saw Charlie, the chauffeur from Sigma 5, enter the bar and she raised her voice to be heard through the noise in the room, "Charlie! Will you come rescue me from this jackass before he proposes to me again!"

"Proposes to you?" Basil slurred, staring at her in bewilderment. "When did I do that?"

"Ah," Jo adapted a thoughtful expression, scratching her chin. "I think it was somewhere between your seventh and tenth beer. Yes, it was. After the eleventh you asked Messina instead."

"No!" Basil began to giggled uncontrollably, shooting less than furtive glances at the blonde sitting at Joīs right. "I didnīt!… Did I?"

"You sure did," Jo smirked, raising her beer and toasting with Messina who until then had been content with sitting silently at the table, watching the increasingly drunken antics of her subordinates, a small, indulgent smile playing on her lips. "She was very honoured," Jo continued, smiling briefly at the blonde before turning her eyes back to Basil, "but unfortunately she had to decline."

"Oh?" Basil gazed bleary-eyed at Messina, but before he could speak further, Charlie had reached them and pulling a chair over sat down to join them. "So, whatīs the occasion?"

"My birthday," Basil informed her, whispering as if he was confessing some great secret. "I turn twenty-eight today."

"Well, congratulations then," Charlie began, accepting one of the beers Vlad had just arrived with, but then froze when she noticed who the woman sitting next to Jo was. "Maīam, I… I… didnīt know you were here."

"Relax…" Messina paused, leaning forward to check the black womanīs rank, "-Corporal, Iīm just here to celebrate like the rest of you."

"Thatīs right!" Vlad agreed loudly, clasping the blonde hard on the back and almost making her choke on the beer she had just brought to her lips. "Our beloved leader turns a year older herself in a day or two, and of course we had to celebrate that as well."

"Well," Charlie smiled hesitantly, obviously still a bit uncomfortable of being in the company of Iris Messina. "In that case, congratulations to you, too, maīam."

"Thank you," Messina smiled graciously, then emptied her beer in a few big gulps and gestured for another which her aide readily offered. Jo frowned lightly, but didnīt say anything. It seemed like Messina was intent on catching up with Basil in the beer department and the captain resigned herself to the fact that she had to stick to non-alcoholic beverages from now on even though technically she was off duty. However, after almost three months of personally being responsible for the blondeīs safety, Jo had realized that there was no such thing as `off dutyī.

As the hours passed and the beers kept coming, the company around the table grew rowdier and rowdier, attracting several looks from the tables around them, but none of the other patrons appeared to be bothered by the boisterous crowd, several of them buying rounds to their leader and her friends when they learned what the occassion was. At one time someone put a coin into the jukebox and a few soldiers quickly cleared a small area, and before Jo knew what happened, Basil had dragged her out onto the impromptu dance floor where she spent the next few minutes trying not to be flung into the nearest wall by the overly enthusiastic and erratically moving sergeant.

Eventually, she managed to escape, getting Charlie to take her place, and she returned to the table, slumping down onto a chair.

"That, my dear," Messina grinned broadly, "that was probably one of the worst dance acts Iīve ever seen."

Jo tried to look offended, but then grinned herself, "Yeah, I know. I must confess, I was surprised Basil was capable of standing upright at all."

"Well," the blonde finished yet another beer and scanned the table already covered with empty bottles for another. "He did defy gravity a couple of times thatīs for sure."

Jo just nodded, her eyes absently looking around the bar. Basil and Charlie seemed to be getting along great on the dance floor and Vlad was currently leaning against the bar, talking intently to a pretty brunette Jo hadnīt seen before. Feeling wonderfully relaxed and unusually content, she looked back the Messina and asked, "So, how do you like your birthday celebration so far."

The blonde shrugged, "Itīs okay. I donīt really like birthdays, but this one has actually been quite fun."

"You have no reason to dislike birthdays," Jo said with a smile. "You still look twenty-five."

Messina raised an eyebrow good-humouredly and smiled fleetingly before turning serious, "It has nothing to do with vanity, Delaine, I donīt care about looking my age. Itīs the fact that birthdays remind me of my own mortality that bothers me."

"Oh…" Jo didnīt know what to say to that and for a few minutes they both were silent, lost in their own thoughts. Then Messina said reflectively, watching Basil on the dance floor, "Itīs amazing, but I actually think your friendīs gotten even bigger since I last saw him. Does he even know how strong he is?"

"Basilīs got the physique of an ox," Jo said proudly, watching the redhead as well. "Heīs gonna end up being just as strong as Pilot, Iīm sure." The she frowned and turned to look at her superior, "When did you last see Basil? I didnīt know you had ever met him before?"

"Well, okay, I havenīt, not really, but I saw him once." Messina looked into Joīs eyes, her tone of voice lowering ever so slightly, "Remember that night we first slept together? I saw him leave with his CC instructors the next morning."

Looking a bit awkward, Jo blinked then quickly acknowledged the blondeīs words with a small nod before staring down at the table, somehow feeling less than comfortable with the direction their conversation had suddenly taken.

In all the time she had been back, Messina had never mentioned or referred to their previous relationship or made any attempt to renew it in any way, and Jo had been greatly relieved by that as it had saved her from a confrontation she could really do without. However, she knew instantly as the blonde spoke again that her luck had just run out.

"Do you sometimes think of it, Jo?" Messina moved her chair closer, trying to catch the captainīs eye.

Jo looked away, then mumbled slowly, "Not really, I mean, it was a long time ago."

"It hasnīt been that long." Jo suddenly felt a warm hand cover her own and she barely stopped herself from pulling hers back. "I know you, Jo," Messina continued unaffectedly, too drunk to be worried about the tension she could detect in the captain whose body had turned practically rigid, or that they were in a public place. "I know you a lot better than you think. I know you havenīt forgotten. I can see it in your eyes."

That got Jo to abruptly lift her head and she found herself caught up in intense blue eyes very close to her face and she momentarily forgot what it was she had intended to say. A short moment passed with them just staring at each other, then Jo straightened up and withdrew her hand, speaking in a kind but fully professional tone that held no trace of her earlier nervousness, "Youīre drunk, Iris. I think itīs time for you to call it a night. Iīll go get Vlad."

However, as she searched the room for the aide, she just managed to see him slip out of the door, the brunette he had been talking to at the bar clinging to him as if her life depended on it. Something between a sigh and a curse escaped Joīs lips and she reluctantly reached down to take Messinaīs hand, pulling the unresisting blonde to her feet. Placing an arm firmly around her superior to keep her on her feet, Jo began to make her way through the bar to the door, informing Basil and Charlie that they were leaving as they passed them on the dance floor.

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

"Iīm perfectly capable of walking by myself!"

"Sure you are," Jo replied, making sure to keep any trace of amusement out of her voice. "But just let me help you anyway, okay?"

Messina didnīt answer, but she ceased resisting and allowed Jo to escort her down the long corridor leading to her quarters. Inside, Jo released the blonde and walked over to switch on the lamp on her desk which did very little to illuminate the darkened room, and then stepped over to pull the covers from the bed, intent on getting Messina into bed as smoothly and quickly as possible. However, as she turned around she could tell that her superior was not the least interested in sleeping. Instead she had made herself comfortable on the couch, sipping from a bottle of gin that seemed to have miraculously materialized in her hands.

"Ah… Iris," Jo stepped over to stand before the reclining blonde. "I really donīt think you should drink more tonight. Youīve had quite a lot already and itīd be a lot better for you if you just went to bed."

"Yeah?" Messina stared at her, then, as if to spite her, took a big gulp from the bottle. "Well, tough luck, Jo! Iīm not interested in going to bed and the last time I checked, you didnīt have the authority to make me."

"Iīve no interest in making you do anything," Jo replied with a sigh, surprised by Messinaīs sudden petulant behaviour which she didnīt recall having witnessed this strongly before. "I just think it would better if-."

"Enough!" the blonde interrupted. "I donīt want to hear it! Either you can sit down and have a drink with me, or you can go out that door and leave me alone for tonight. I donīt care either way. Itīs up to you."

Jo straightened up, blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Messina noticed the expression and tiredly ran a hand through her hair, her voice becoming weary, "Iīm sorry, Jo. Youīre only doing your job. Thereīs no reason for me to act this way." She patted the couch beside her, giving the captain a small smile, "Please join me, wonīt you? Weīll have a drink, and then Iīll go to bed."

Jo rubbed her forehead, her face turned away, then she nodded, "Okay." She sat down on the couch and after a momentīs hesitation accepted the bottle she was offered and drank deeply, suddenly not caring about being on duty anymore.

Several minutes passed by with them passing the bottle between them in a complete, but not awkward silence, then Jo sighed deeply, leaned her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes.

"Tired?" Messina inquired softly.

Jo opened her eyes to look at her and said with a languid smile, "Yeah, looking out for you is full-time job. Today Iīve been checking every single emergency exit this base has to offer, and afterwards I spent three hours going through the sewerage because one of the sensors detected movement. Unsurprisingly it turned out to be a rat." Jo wrinkled her nose in recollection, "We really need to get those damn things adjusted, Iīm not really keen on having to go down there ever again."

The blonde grinned sympathetically, but then said, "If you think itīs hard now, Delaine, then just wait till next month when weīre going to South Afghanistan. Youīll be surprised how easy this will seem in comparison." She grinned again when Jo rolled her eyes, but gradually the grin faded and she became serious. Studying the relaxed woman beside her Messina then asked quietly, "Have you regretted coming back?"

Jo shook her head, surprised that the room continued to spin on its own for a few seconds afterwards. She didnīt think sheīd had that much to drink. "No, it was the right decision to leave Neo Roma. Besides, itīs not like I didnīt know what to expect. Iīve done most of this before, remember?"

"Like getting drunk with me?" Messina grinned, looking pointedly at the bottle resting on the couch between them and Jo smiled faintly, her eyes a little distant. "That too."

They remained silent for a few moments, Jo staring mindlessly at the floor when a direct question suddenly startled her out of her reverie, "So, whatīs so great about her?"

Jo turned her head slowly, meeting the blondeīs unreadable gaze, "What do you mean?"

"This girl, the one you gave up undercover work for, whatīs so wonderful about her? What made you fall in love with her?"

Had Jo been a little less drunk, she would have somehow managed to skip the question and then excuse herself and leave, but the alcohol had already affected her thoughts too much and she didnīt feel any of her usual inhibitions and just shrugged, "I donīt know, I just did. I donīt really think you can explain these things. They just happen."

"You sure itīs love? And not something else?"

For a second, Jo considered whether she should get angry, but the gin had put her into a sufficiently mellow mood and instead she just smiled absently, "Iīm sure."

Messina studied Jo for a long time, her own face displaying a variety of emotions which the captain didnīt notice. Then she said quietly, "She must be very special."

Jo smiled again and it was clear to Messina that wherever Jo was in her mind, it wasnīt here, "She is. Sheīs the best thing thatīs ever happened to me."

Messina stared at her, then looked away. Jo detected the movement out of the corner of her eye and slowly some of the alcohol induced complacency left her, and without exactly knowing why she heard herself say, "Donīt get me wrong, Iris. You changed my life. If you hadnīt taken me away from Vega who knows what Iīd be doing now, and Iīll always be eternally grateful to you for all the things youīve taught me over the years. Iīll never be able to repay you that and Iīll always…" She hesitated, then finished softly, "Iīll always be there for you, Iris. Whenever you need me. All you have to do is ask."

The blondeīs face was still turned away and Jo couldnīt see what impact her words might or might not have made. Breathing quietly, Messina digested the information she had just received for a minute or two before slowly turning her head to look back at Jo, "All I have to do is ask?"

Jo nodded, her face deadly serious, "Yes."

"Iīll remember that," Messina replied, her expression pensive, contemplating.

Without blinking they held each otherīs gaze. And suddenly, for the briefest of seconds, it felt like they were going back in time, events and scenarios from long ago passing between them and before their eyes. Then the moment ended.

Feeling a little uneasy, Jo got to her feet. Clearing her throat, she said quickly, "Itīs getting late, I think Iīll turn in now."

"You do that." Messina gave a her little smile. "And sweet dreams."

"Likewise," Jo answered, then slipped out of the door, closing it carefully behind her.

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

Chapter Forty-One

Mickey slammed her right fist into the punching bag.

The left followed immediately afterwards

Then she started all over again, her wrists smarting from the force put behind the blows.

Heads all over the gym slowly began to turn in her direction.

Bemused, but respectful smiles were now coming her way as well.

Mickey was oblivious to it all and continued pounding.

Sweat stung her eyes, but she ignored it. Just as she had for the last twenty minutes.

The gloves connected with the bag, again and again, harder and harder, but still it did nothing to diminish the pain Mickey was feeling inside.

Delivering one last punch, Mickey suddenly felt all her strength and determination leave her and she wrapped her arms around the bag, needing something to keep her upright or she would collapse. Closing her eyes, she leaned her sweaty forehead against the smooth and battered leather.

She remained standing like this for a few moments, but then she gradually became aware of all the eyes on her and blushing faintly she moved away from the punching bag, blushing even more as she made her way through the gym to a sound of friendly applause.

"Nice going, Miss," a tall, beefy man commented with a small grin as she passed him. "I sure as hell wouldnīt want to be in that guyīs shoes."

Mickey smiled meekly in return, but didnīt stop to chat and instead continued over to the wooden bench placed against the wall where she had left her towel and a bottle of water. Sinking down onto the bench, she drank greedily from the bottle then wiped her face with the towel before leaning back against the wall, wincing briefly as the cold concrete came into contact with her overheated body. Resting her head against the wall, she closed her eyes again, feeling her frantic heartbeat slowly return to normal.

A wry smile showed briefly on Mickeyīs face, but then her features turned more sad than amused.

This line of thought wasnīt new and lately Mickey had been repeating it like a mantra. It was what first came to her early mornings when she was walking through the Slums on her way to work, and it was what prevented her from sleeping at nights when she utterly exhausted fell into bed seventeen hours later.

Initially, it hadnīt been so bad. Initially, she had been coping just fine. The first few weeks after Jo had left, Mickey had been unhappy, there had been a small ache in her heart accompanying her wherever she went, but it had been tolerable, endurable. Work in the clinic, Dr. Lawrenceīs stroke and adjusting to a new routine involving Ralph Greenberg had all contributed to distracting her, but little by little, things changed.

It had become harder and harder waking up in an empty bed and it had become more and more difficult to see the clock approach six p.m. and not listen for steps in the corridor, or expect Jo to poke her head in any minute and ask if she was ready to leave.

Before Mickey had realized what had happened, the small ache had turned into a full-blown pain, occupying her every waking moment and most of her nights as well. It had resulted in two bitter letters to Jo which Mickey had instantly regretted mailing, but at the time had been too caught up in her own misery and hurt to restrain herself from doing so while she still had the opportunity to take everything back.

Those letters had both been followed up with long letters full of love and assurance, Mickey apologizing profoundly for having allowed her sudden bout of unhappiness to get the better of her, but she knew only too well that the damage had already been done. The answering letters from Jo, often delayed for weeks on end, had first turned cautious and apologetic, Joīs own frustration, anger and guilt over not being able to change the situation practically leaping off the pages. Then they had become taciturn, almost clinical, free from every emotion as if Jo was afraid that mentioning their separation at all would only make matters worse.

The only thing that didnīt change was the never wavering "I love you," Jo finished each of her letters with. A small, but to Mickey immensely significant gesture of reassurance which she took great comfort in those long and lonely nights when tears and self-pity never seemed too far away.

The thought caused Mickey to open her eyes again. But her gaze was distant and it wasnīt the faces of the people around her that she saw.

"Mickey?"

Slightly startled, Mickey blinked and turned her head to see Ralph Greenberg dressed in t-shirt and shorts look down at her. Recovering quickly, she gave him a polite smile, "Ralph? What are you doing here? Iīm sure they must have gyms that are more up to your standards in the city."

"Iīm sure they do," Ralph smiled in return, then sat down on the bench beside her. "I just donīt like them. I often prefer the Suburbs to the city anyway. At least the better parts."

"Sounds to me like youīve born into the wrong family," Mickey replied distractedly, wondering when it would be appropriate for her to excuse herself and leave. Ralph had turned out to be a nice enough young man and a competent help, but right now Mickey just wanted to be left alone so she could return to her brooding.

However, Ralph didnīt seem inclined to leave her right away and continued, oblivious to Mickeyīs low sigh of exasperation, "That was quite a show you put on there." Mickey looked at him questioningly and he pointed at the punching bag, speaking with a friendly smile, "I know weīve had a rough week at the clinic, but I didnīt know it had been that frustrating."

Mickey couldnīt help but smile a little, feeling that she was slowly warming up to him and his imperturbable manner, "Well, no, youīre right, it hasnīt. Guess I just had a lot of excess energy to work off." Her gaze dropped to the floor and she spoke quietly to herself, "Or maybe I just miss someone."

The young man bit his lip uncertainly, not knowing whether he should comment, having the distinct feeling that the words hadnīt been meant for him to hear. Deciding to find a safe topic, he waited a few seconds then spoke, "While youīre here, I was wondering if Gina had come to see you this week? She was scheduled to come see me Wednesday for a check up, but she didnīt show and I thought that perhaps she had gone to you instead? Maybe being more comfortable with a female doctor?"

Mickey looked at him, some of the dullness leaving her eyes and she said thoughtfully, "Gina? No, I havenīt seen her… Hmm, thatīs strange. Iīve never known her to miss her appointments in the past, especially not now with a baby on the way."

"Maybe," Ralph began carefully, trying to be as delicate as possible. "Maybe thatīs the reason. Maybe she doesnīt think thereīs any point of going… Not anymore…"

Mickey shrugged and sighed, "Maybe. Itīs possible. I just didnīt think she would give up that easily. I know the odds are against her, but…" She trailed off for a moment then continued wearily, "I donīt know. Maybe it was just me hoping that this time it would be different, that for once things would have a happy ending." She looked away, "I shouldīve known better."

Ralph scratched his chin absently, staring intently at the doctor, then he spoke hesitantly, "Do you know where she lives?"

Mickey turned to look at him, "I have an idea, why?"

"Well, maybe… maybe we could go see her. Try to persuade her not to give up on herself or her baby so soon." He saw the scepticism on the blondeīs face and smiled a little sheepishly, "Well, at least it couldnīt hurt. All she can do is tell us to leave her alone."

"You do realize," Mickey spoke dispassionately, her face not giving away what she was thinking, "that to do that we would have to enter parts of the Slums that not even Doctor Lawrence is willing to visit? Parts even the Councilīs troops hesitate to enter?"

Ralph opened his mouth, then he closed it again.

Mickey gave him a resigned, but pleasant smile, "Somehow I didnīt think so."

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

"This is insane! This is absolutely and utterly insane! I canīt believe you talked me into this!"

"Thatīs because I didnīt," Messina gave Jo a crooked grin. "I ordered you, remember?"

Jo just grunted out her disapproval, turning her body away from the blonde to stare out of the jeepīs window. Messina smiled inwardly, then shook her head lightly before turning her attention back to the darkened road ahead.

"You know, the entire point of me coming back was to increase your personal safety, and then you overrule or ignore every suggestion I make."

Messina barely managed to hide another big grin when Jo uttered the exacts words she had been expecting. Keeping a straight face, she glanced at her aggravated companion, "Look, Jo, I know youīre not happy with the arrangements, and truth be told, neither am I, but we donīt really have a choice. The only way I could get to meet General Sawat was if I came in person, and you know how paranoid he is, how paranoid they all are. He wouldnīt allow me to bring an escort, claming that if it was only a friendly visit I wouldnīt need one. If I hadnīt told them that you were my bodyguard and that I never leave without you, he wouldnīt even have let me bring you along."

"General!" Jo snorted, still staring out at the window in spite of the fact that the thick darkness made it impossible for her to see anything. "Is that what he call himself nowadays? I remember when he proclaimed himself the new Messiah and wanted everybody to worship him."

"And his people did," Messina pointed out quietly, suddenly very serious. "Thatīs why heīs so dangerous, Jo. In his part of the world religion and politics are hard, if not impossible, to distinguish from each other, and whatever you may think about him, you canīt afford to underestimate him. Why do you think the Council gave up annexing all of Afghanistan and settled for the northern part? That was because of him and his army."

"And his weapons," Jo stated dryly.

"Exactly," the blonde answered, slowing the jeep as the road turned sharply to the right before speeding up again. "He may be a terrorist, he may be an old-fashioned misogynistic pig, but we need him and we need his weapons. If we can get him to support us, or at least get him to cause the Council problems on our behalf, then…" Messina paused suddenly as if the thought had just struck, "Then we can begin the final phase, then, at last, after all these years, we can instigate the final battle. The battle that is going to end them all."

Jo turned her head slowly to look at her superior. Messinaīs eyes were distant and glazed, and her voice when she had spoken had the same tone and resonance as when she gave speeches to a practically ecstatic crowd of civilians and soldiers all over the Realm. Sighing, Jo looked away again, knowing from experience that nothing she could say would penetrate the delirious haze the blonde was currently wallowing in.

Personally, Jo thought it was more than doubtful that their visit would accomplish anything at all. General Sawat was a hard-headed, cruel and brutal man whose only extenuating quality was a strong, if rather fanatical, sense of honour which ensured that once he had given his word he would sooner die than break it. If, and that was a big if, if they could somehow convince him to support the Organisation with weapons, or maybe even soldiers, then that would bring them a huge step closer to that final confrontation Messina was talking about, but to achieve that consent, there was one major hurdle they had to pass first.

Sawat did not like foreigners and, more importantly, he did not like women, especially not women who wore a uniform and commanded thousands and thousands of soldiers. That, in Joīs opinion, made the prospects of a successful and fruitful meeting look rather grim.

She knew there was no way Messina was going to play the humble and helpless female, no matter how much she needed the generalīs help. She probably wasnīt capable of doing it even if she wanted to, and Jo knew without a doubt that she personally would deck the first guy who told her to go back to the kitchen and put on an apron. And the next one, too, for that matter.

When she flatly informed Messina of what she might end up doing if provoked, the blonde only laughed, saying that she wouldnīt expect anything less, but then she had grown silent and thoughtful, staring intensely at the puzzled captain. Then, after several minutes of silence, she had said that maybe it wasnīt such a bad idea after all, that more than anything they would need to gain Sawatīs respect and if beating up his soldiers was the way to do it…

Jo tensed, instantly brought out of her reverie by a brief flash of light outside the window. Without turning to look, she spoke softly to Messina, "Theyīre watching."

"I know," came the quiet response. "They have been for the last three miles."

"I guess that means itīs too late to change our minds and turn around," Jo spoke slowly and absently, her gaze darting between the shifting shadows outside the jeep.

"Yep," Messina agreed a split second before she stepped on the brake, bringing the jeep to an abrupt halt.

Swearing loudly when she was forcefully flung forward in her seat, Jo quickly released her gun from its holster before lifting her head to stare out through the windscreen. In front of her, illuminated in the bright and blinding headlights from the jeep, stood a tall, bearded man and even from the distance, and in spite of the darkness, Jo could see the cold and emotionless look in his eyes.

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

Stifling a yawn, Jo rubbed her eyes furiously, trying to get rid of the fatigue that refused to release her from its hold. Her neck and shoulders felt terribly stiff after so many hours of sitting still and she felt a desperate need to stretch her legs. What time it was exactly, or for how long they had been driving, she didnīt know, their watches had been confiscated along with their weapons, but she estimated it to be some time around three or four a.m.

She was sitting in the back of an old and dirty jeep, Messina fast asleep beside her. The blonde had asked her to wake her up in case she fell asleep, but Jo had decided to let her sleep and stay awake herself. Messina would need all her strength for the upcoming meeting with General Sawat. They had exchanged a few words with the gruff general when they first encountered him and a group of his soldiers on the road, but he had quickly more or less ordered them to get into one of his jeeps and save the talking for when they reached his camp. As explanation he had claimed that the Council had a base nearby and although it was the first Jo and Messina had heard of it, they had decided not to comment and did as they were told. This was Sawatīs home ground and not theirs.

All Jo had done, mainly as a matter of principle and to let the general know she took her responsibility as Messinaīs bodyguard seriously, was to request they were allowed to keep their weapons and to remain in their own jeep, saying he could provide them with an armed escort if he deemed it necessary. However, the request had been denied, if not ignored, and they had been ushered into one of his vehicles, a dark, silent and slightly smelly man taking over the wheel.

That was several hours ago and ever since they had been driving through the dark night along uncharted and seemingly endless roads, deeper and deeper into the territory General Sawat called his own. Jo was by now so exhausted that she knew she would fall asleep the moment she closed her eyes, so she had spent most of the time first trying to engage their uncommunicative chauffeur into a conversation, and when that didnīt work, she had turned her attention to the landscape outside the window, to no avail trying to spot anything that would give her a clue as to their whereabouts. All she had been able to see were the headlights coming from the jeeps following them and the red tail lights from the vehicles fronting the small convoy.

"Wake up! Weīre here."

Startled, Joīs head snapped up and she realized to her consternation that she must have fallen asleep after all. Outside night was slowly giving way to dawn, a thick grey fog lingering between the barracks around her, and if it hadnīt been for all the armed men waiting outside, Jo could almost have believed she was back in Vega.

Turning to Messina, Jo gave the blonde a gentle nudge, "Iris? Are you awake?"

"Yeah," Messina who appeared just to have woken up as well ran a hand through her hair, giving Jo a slightly annoyed look, "no thanks to you, though. Didnīt I tell you to wake me up?"

"Yes, you did-" Jo began tiredly, not in the mood for any lengthy discussion, but then she was interrupted by the door beside her being pulled open and a manīs voice ordering them to get out.

Exchanging a quick glance, they did as they were told. Outside they were faced with five heavily armed men, all pointing their machine-guns at them, their faces blank and unreadable. Then two of the men suddenly stepped aside, allowing a tall uniformed man with a badly scarred face to pass and walk over to stand before them. For a few seconds he just stared at them, the entire camp seemingly holding its breath, and Jo subconsciously reached for her gun, only to remember it wasnīt there. The tall man noticed her gesture and contempt showed in his eyes, but then all trace of emotion disappeared and he said tonelessly, "Iīm Colonel Misha. The general has asked me to escort you to the conference room."

Without waiting for their response, he turned on his heels and strode away. Messina shook her head imperceptibly, a lightly exasperated expression on her face, then without a word she followed the colonel, completely ignoring the two soldiers who instantly came to walk at her side. Jo stared after her for a moment without moving, but then she felt a machine-gun poke her hard in the back. Turning around slowly, she looked directly into dark brown eyes which became more and more impatient, but also a little nervous when Jo didnīt blink and just continued to stare dispassionately. A minute or two went by that way, then, suddenly and for no apparent reason, she smiled, an indulgent and amused smile, and before the soldier had time to react, she winked at him coyly and walked away, hands deep in her pockets, whistling a low and cheerful tune.

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

The conference room turned out to be a large canvas tent at the north end of the camp, practically covered with greenish/brown materials and a fine-meshed net interwoven with branches and leaves. Jo had her doubts when it came to its concealing effect, especially since the tent was surrounded by armed soldiers who did absolutely nothing to appear inconspicuous, standing carelessly out in the open, most of them not even wearing anything that could remotely be considered camouflage. However, she suspected that being surrounded by hostile and impassable mountains, and generally being known as the only country to properly resist the Councilīs troops might have contributed to their relaxed and complacent behaviour.

Vivien would have them making push-ups till they dropped if she were here, Jo smiled dryly to herself as one of the soldiers pulled the tent flap aside to let her in.

Pausing the moment she was inside, Jo just stopped herself from going back out when the canvas flap fell back in place, leaving her in absolute darkness. Standing perfectly still, she strained to hear anything as her eyes little by little adjusted to the darkness. When her ears picked up the sound of people breathing quietly, she took a gamble and stepped to the right, edging her way round what she believed had to be a table. Feeling another presence nearby, she stopped, exhaled silently and waited.

For a few endless seconds no sounds were heard, then a quiet and heavily accented voice spoke, "You were right. She is good."

Before Jo had the time to react, a bright light illuminated the tent and she blinked quickly, dark spots dancing before her eyes. When finally she was able to see sufficiently she looked around, realizing she was standing right beside a seated Messina who was regarding her with smug satisfaction and also pride. Not liking being tested this way, Jo glared briefly down at her, too fast for anyone else to notice, then she lifted her head to take in the rest of the tentīs occupants.

On the other side of the oval table, seated comfortably in a leather chair, was General Sawat. The bearded man with the hard brown eyes was watching her with undisguised interest, a cold, slightly intrigued smile playing on his lips. Behind him, standing with his back against the canvas, was Colonel Misha who managed to look as bored and indifferent as if he was watching paint dry. Jo quickly dismissed him and focused her gaze on the general, determined not to be the first one to break eye contact.

Their stand-off continued for only a minute or two, but to Jo it felt much longer and she realized to her annoyance that the oppressive heat in the tent was beginning to affect her. As a small bead of sweat ran down her temple, the generalīs gaze wavered for just a second, trailing its path down her cheek to the hollow of her throat, then suddenly he smiled and meeting her eyes again spoke almost pleasantly, "Please, sit down, Captain. You must be tired after the long journey."

Remembering her manners, Jo gave him a light nod, then pulled out a chair, sitting down next to Messina who had witnessed the entire exchange without a word or an indication that she even cared what was going on. However, when Jo moved closer, she felt a slight squeeze of her right thigh under the table, the hand resting briefly on her leg before moving away. Glancing in the blondeīs direction, their eyes met, a silent look of acknowledgement passing between them, then two pairs of blue eyes returned to the general.

"So…" Sawat fingered with his beard subconsciously, his gaze shifting between the two women before him. "What has brought the mighty Iris Messina to my little corner of the world? What could I possibly have that would be of any interest to her, or her powerful Organisation? Or is this indeed only a friendly visit? An attempt to improve the relationship between our two…" He paused, then smiled without any warmth, "Our two righteous and misunderstood movements?"

Messina returned his smile, the gesture as hollow and void of any emotion as his had been, "A friendly visit, yes, but a friendly visit that might prove beneficial to us both." She leaned in over the table, looking directly into the generalīs eyes, "I want your weapons, Sawat. I want your tanks and your gas containers, your rockets and your plutonium." She straightened up again, then concluded almost nonchalantly, "Thatīs all."

Instead of laughing out loud, as Jo had halfway expected the general to do, he just stared at them thoughtfully, his hand never ceasing the absentminded stroking of his beard. Then he nodded sagely, giving the impression that he was actually considering Messinaīs words, "Hmm… I see… And in return for those… minor favours, I would get exactly…?"

"Afghanistan," the blonde spoke without hesitation. "I have no interest in your country, it is more trouble than itīs worth. If you provide me with the help I need to defeat the Council, I promise you that Afghanistan, all of it, will be yours." Messinaīs voice grew cold and businesslike, her eyes resting on Sawatīs face without blinking, "That is more than you could ever hope to achieve on your own. You will never succeed in driving the Council out of Northern Afghanistan, not without seriously pissing off the people in Neo Roma. And you know your little venture here has been a sore spot for the Council for a very long time and thereīs no way theyīll risk the humiliation of losing it all. Not even if it means sacrificing an entire generation of young people to get it back."

Sawat pursed his lips, then asked casually, his tone of voice a sharp contrast to the alertness in his eyes, "What makes you think I care so much for Afghanistan, eh? What makes you think I would even consider your suggestion?"

"Because itīs your country," Messina leaned in over the table again, blue eyes staring intensely at the dark man. "Because itīs in your blood, because your love for this country is running through your veins." This time the blondeīs voice had become smooth and husky and Jo felt a pleasant shiver run down her back. "Because itīs a matter of honour, because you have told your people you will lead them to victory. And because…" Messina looked challengingly at the general, drawing out the words for emphazis, "Youīre sick and tired of not being the master of your own house."

Sawat stared at her, his body completely still and his face a mask, then, without warning, he burst out laughing, "You amuse me, woman! You really do!"

Confusion and uncertainty flickered across Messinaīs face for a second, but then it was gone and she spoke unaffectedly, "So? What will it be, Sawat? Do you want to go down in history as a lowly terrorist, full of empty promises? Or as the man who brought his own people to victory and recognition while simultaneously assisting in throwing over the most ruthless regime of the twenty-first century?"

Still laughing, the general shook his head, "Oh, Iīll give you your weapons, Iīll give you my help. That is…" The smile left his face and his eyes grew hard, "If you prove yourself worthy."

"And how will I do that?" Messina inquired, suddenly weary, her body radiating a tension that only Jo felt.

"Iīll think of something." Sawat rose from his chair, smiling coldly. "Something that will prove… entertaining to us both." His gaze moved to Jo, "To all of us."

Reading the angry look on her face, he laughed again and Jo was inwardly amazed at his ability to do it without any feeling, "Not that, Captain. Iīve no desire to have either of you in my bed. No…" He sighed in satisfaction, then walked to the tent flap, speaking over his shoulder, "Iīll have my fun my way." He stopped abruptly, glancing back at them, "Be ready to meet me in an hour. Dress… casually."

And then he left, closely followed by Colonel Misha, who didnīt even look in their direction as he passed them.

Jo bit her lip, her brow furrowing, then she turned to look at Messina questioningly, "Did this meeting go good or bad?"

The blonde exhaled deeply, giving Jo a tired smile, "Iīll let you know when the dayīs over, Delaine. That is, if Iīm still alive to tell you."

"Oh," was all Jo could think of saying as she slowly followed Messina outside.

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

To Be Continued…