Brian marveled that she could have seen anything at all, let alone that many specific shadows against the blackness. Brian’s untrained eye had not detected anything from this distance. Hell, he thought, he was barely able to tell where all his own teammates were, crouched in the dark beside him….

He swallowed hard, his heart pounding loudly in his chest, and jumped in panic at Ann’s next tense question.

"Michael, should we attack?" she whispered.

Brian bit his lip to keep the loud gasp of relief inside him at Michael’s answer.

"No," the calm French voice ordered through Brian’s head-set. "Withdraw and do some surveillance," he instructed the team quietly. "We want to make sure Fitzpatrick and his son are really inside before we attack," he told them. "They’re our real targets."

His words reminded them all of the briefing that morning, when the Section team had learned the identity of the bombers that had killed so many innocents in the park in Athens, and so many of their own number as well. Ian Fitzpatrick and his son, Raymond, had been responsible for all those deaths, and would no doubt be responsible for many more, if they weren’t stopped. Their localized rein of terror through their affiliation with the IRA had not been enough carnage for the blood-thirsty father and son- They had forged a new alliance with Red Cell, and were now spreading their brutal brand of terror beyond the shores of Ireland to encompass the whole world. The horror of Athens was just the beginning…

"Acknowledged," Ann responded to this order. "Standing down." She let out a sigh, and cut the transmission. The team followed her stealthily then, as she led them back the way they had come. The operatives slipped silently through the woods for a good ways until she suddenly signaled again for them to stop. "Make camp here," she ordered.

Brian sighed. More waiting, he thought. I won’t have any adrenal glands or nerve cells left after this assignment was over, he speculated to himself ruefully.

That had been a few hours ago, and Brian was now amazed at how calm he felt, how safe, for now, in this short interlude before the battle, almost cocooned in the intimate circle of their small encampment. He breathed a deep sigh, relaxed, and pulled all his thoughts away from death and missions, and concentrated his attention solely on the woman beside him. He was determined to enjoy these peaceful moments together with her while he still could.

Ann was eagerly scraping the last spoonful of the beans from the bottom of the can, wolfing her food down hungrily. Replete, she set the empty can down, with the spoon inside, on the ground, and leaned back with a sigh.

"I hate to say this," she admitted with a grin, licking her lips, "But those beans were goood…"

Brian laughed. "I’ll remind you that you said that when we get back," Brian told her teasingly. "Then you can’t complain if I serve you canned food at my house instead of taking you out to a fancy restaurant….."

He slipped his fingers tentatively into her hand and leaned closer. "I’m a lousy cook but I have other… talents…" he whispered flirtatiously in her ear, nipping gently at her earlobe, his tone and actions light-hearted and teasing.

Ann pulled her face away, but not her hand, from his, and teased him back.

"Hey, not so fast, there, Buster," she warned him in mock sternness. "I still expect that dinner you promised me..." She tilted her head, her eyes crinkling in merriment. It felt so good to have Brian near. She was enjoying the easy banter they had fallen into now that the demands of the mission did not require their total serious concentration. "I may be a cheap date, but I’m not THAT cheap, got it?"

To Ann’s surprise, Brian responded not with another laugh, but with a serious sigh. "I know…" he whispered softly. "Not cheap at all…" He gathered her hand in both of his, and caressed her fingers adoringly with his. Then he bent his head and kissed each of her fingers carefully, reverently, one by one, then placed a final kiss on her palm, and let her hand go.

"I know just how valuable you are, how priceless…." He breathed in the dark beside her, his voice sending chills of excitement up her spine. "A treasure beyond all others, that’s what you are…"

He leaned toward her again, and his lips just brushed her mouth in the lightest of reverent touches, this kiss even more adoringly respectful than the ones on her hand had been. "You mean the world to me, Ann…" he said against her lips. "You are more precious to me than all the riches there are to be had in the universe……."

She moaned softly, and he kissed her again, this time his lips pressing more firmly. "You mean everything to me…" he murmured, leaning in to kiss her once more.

Ann uttered a small gasp, and pulled her head away, remembering where she was. "Brian, don’t do this…" she murmured back, in anguished regret. "Please…. Not here, not now…"

Brian froze, his body going stiff, and then he pulled back from her, scooting over a few feet from her on the ground so that he was no longer within touching distance of her. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving in time with his soft, anguished sobs.

Stricken, Ann watched the watched the man she loved fight for control of the raging emotions that ripped through him, and moved to comfort him, and herself.

"Shhh…" Ann soothed in a gentle whisper. "It’s okay…" she said in a trembling voice. "I’m not rejecting you, Brian, not at all …" she assured him breathlessly. "I WANT to have this conversation with you…." She choked out, then amended herself, with a self-deprecating laugh, "Hell, I want more than that," she confessed. I want —YOU," she went on, feeling terrified but happy for having stated it so boldly, "but I can’t think about us now," she apologized. "I have to --- WE have to---- get past the mission first…"

Brian’s head came up slowly, and he straightened his back. Solemnly, he turned to face her, and she saw the glimmer of tears in his blue eyes. He nodded slowly. "That’s why I told you what I did," he said in a quiet, intensely serious tone. "That’s why I kissed you."

He let out a slow sigh. "There may not be another chance after the mission…"

Ann let out a deep shaky sigh, and scrambled over to Brian’s side. She knelt before him and took his face in her hands, tilting his head back so that he was forced to look directly up into her eyes. "Now listen to me," she whispered intensely, stroking the soft stubble on his cheeks with her thumbs, "We are going to survive this…"

"Ann…." Brian moaned, his eyes glittering with sorrow and longing. "I…"

"Shhh," she soothed him again. "There’ll be plenty of time for talking, and … kissing… and getting to know each other, when we get back," she said gently, blushing again. "I promise you that…"

Then she leaned forward and kissed him. Briefly, tenderly, the fleeting caress holding all the sweet promise that her words conveyed, and then some.

For a brief, shining moment, Brian felt as happy as he had ever been in his life, poised on the brink of a beautiful future, full of love and hope. He closed his eyes, and let the warmth of Ann’s love, the keen sweetness of her promise, settle over his soul and heal him…

He only had a few seconds to bask in the warmth of her lips on his when a cold dash of reality tore them apart.

"Ma’am," the second-in-command team member, Lazlo, said from behind them. "The Fitzpatrick men have arrived in the compound," he reported in a tense voice. "Targets confirmed."

Ann nodded, straightened her back, and stood up. "Good," she acknowledged with her cool mission voice.

Brian felt chilled and bereft as her warmth left him. He was also very, very afraid-- for himself, for Ann, for all of them. He stifled a groan, and stood up himself, then looked anxiously down at the woman who might lead them all to their deaths.

"What are we going to do?" he whispered.

Ann blinked, and the last of her warm look faded from her eyes. All that was left was her cool, machine-like blank stare. There was no trace of Ann, the potential lover and soul-mate now- that gentle woman was gone, and only the cold professional team-leader Ann LaDean remained. She was in mission-mode, as controlled and as cool as Michael himself.

"We attack," she answered coolly, her blue eyes locking with his. "Get ready."

Brian’s knees quivered, and he let out a sharp groan. "Oh, sh*t!" he said loudly, unable to help this heartfelt curse and prayer. "Oh, SH*T…."

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

Brian watched, his heart in this throat, as the team gathered quickly around their leader. Everyone seemed to know what to do, falling into formation as if by instinct. Weapons were locked and loaded, masks settled down over grim faces. The young doctor was surprised at how silently the transformation took place, from a group of scattered people relaxing one minute, to a cohesive, well-oiled fighting machine the next.

Ann had only to nod, twitch her head, raise her eyes, and they obeyed. What few orders she did actually speak out loud were terse and few.

"Lazlo," Ann grunted, "West, and flank."

"Got it."

"Cummings, you’re with me on point."

"Check."

The orders took only a few moments to be spoken, and then, like one black mass, one solid shadow, the Section Team moved forward toward the house in the woods where the terrorists waited.

Brian watched, bewildered, like a kindergartner on the first day of school, lost and uncertain what to do. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore his stomach lurching and twisting inside him, and hoisted his gun on his shoulder, preparing to follow. He had only taken a few steps past the perimeter of their encampment when he was stopped in his tracks.

"No." A black-gloved hand shot out of the darkness, pressing firmly against the center of his chest. Brian halted, and looked up, meeting his team leader’s stern blue eyes behind the concealing mask.

"You’re staying here," Ann ordered tersely, in the same harsh tone she had used for the rest of the men.

"No!" Brian immediately hissed in protest. He was scared out of his mind, but he knew his duty. He was determined to go with them, to be right there alongside his teammates when things were getting ugly, as he knew they would be shortly.

"I’m going with you!" he insisted in a sharp whisper. "Operations….." he began.

Out here, what Operations wants doesn’t mean squat," Ann interrupted curtly, her hand still pressed into Brian’s heaving chest. "I’m the field commander on site, and I’m deploying my team the way I see fit," she hissed emphatically, her voice conveying her anger, and her strength. "You’ll serve the team’s needs best by being here when and IF we need you, is that clear?"

Brian gave a frustrated sigh, growing angry in return. He opened his mouth to argue with her again, but then subsided, knowing any protest he made would be useless, and might even cause harm by delaying the team. He realized with a glimmer if emotion that was almost admiration that Ann was someone who could be every bit as stubborn as he was, maybe more so.

Defeated, he gritted his teeth, and gave in. "Yes… Ma’am.." he said tightly, letting her know he obeyed her orders only under protest.

Ann smiled suddenly in the darkness, pleased, and admittedly surprised, by this quick capitulation. She had been expecting more of a ruckus from Brian, and that was why she hadn’t told him her orders for him until just the last minute. She shoved an earpiece communication device at him, and gave him another order, this time in a sweet-toned, musical voice. "Stay on B channel," she told him warmly, "That way you can follow what’s going on."

"Right. Uh, thanks…" Brian whispered, accepting the device in the spirit it was offered, as a concession to his effort to belong to the team, and his obedience in that moment.

Ann nodded, and turned to go, sudden tears stinging her eyes. She hoped this was not the last time she saw Brian. She hoped these were not the last words she ever spoke to him…

Impulsively, she turned back, and with a lightning-quick gesture, she reached up to take his face firmly in her hands, and pulled his lips down to hers. She took his mouth with hers, hard and brief, in an almost painful kiss, and then she was gone, running with her team into the night.

Brian stood staring after her, stunned, then he felt the wetness on his cheek, and lifted one hand to touch his fingers to the place where Ann’s lips had been. He gasped when he realized what he touched were his Beloved’s tears.

With a resigned sigh, he stepped back into the circle of their campsite to wait nervously for his soul-mate’s return. He clutched the communication device tightly in his palm, like a talisman, or a rosary, and then he prayed.

"Dear God," he breathed alone into the night, "Please send your angels now…."

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

Brian waited anxiously in the dark for the team’s return. He paced for a time, not liking the idea of being here, helpless, essentially deaf, dumb and blind to what was happening with his teammates.

Besides his special emotional link to Ann, Brian had come to know some of the other operatives better due to their enforced intimacy of the mission, and he was beginning to think of them not as co-workers, but as real friends.

None of the others had given him a hard time about being inexperienced in the field; none of them had been resentful of his presence on the mission, as he had half expected them to be. Instead, Brian had found that his teammates to a man respected him for what he was trying to do, and had welcomed him into their tight-knit group.

Part of the comaraderie he was experiencing from them he knew was a result of the fall-out from the serious losses the teams had endured after the disaster in Athens.

They had watched their teammates die in the bomb blast, and then had suffered the agony of bringing the literally shredded wounded back to Section to be patched back together by the Medlab doctors as best they could, in most cases unsuccessfully, despite the Med teams valiant efforts to save them.

Every operative on Ann’s team had lost friends, lovers, colleagues in that horrible bombing, losses that were still like wounds to them, raw and unhealed. They regarded Brian’s effort to keep that from happening again as heroic, perhaps foolish, but they understood that the young doctor was putting himself on the line for them, something the higher ups in Section tended not to do.

In fact, Operations’ policy toward his men and Brian’s attitude were at completely different ends of the spectrum. Operations considered the operatives "expendable material" and "acceptable collateral", whereas Brian was doing his utmost to save them, to keep them alive. Brian, they knew, unlike their Section bosses, was on THEIR side.

Brian had been touched by their support, and frankly, surprised by it. The young doctor had never been much on seeking popularity, being too shy, and because of certain experiences in his past, too paranoid, to desire to be in the limelight. He didn’t desire to be a hero, and didn’t consider himself one now. He had only pushed forward with his plan because he was convinced it was the right thing to do.

If the truth be told, Brian was incredibly uneasy about being in the spotlight, the center of attention, and the object of talk and discussion. As a bisexual, he had had his share of ugly gossip when he was growing up, and since junior high he had been the target of attacks, both verbal and physical, about his so-called "deviant" sexuality.

Being of an honest and open nature, Brian had made no effort to hide the fact that he was attracted equally to men and women alike. Not among his small circle of friends, anyway. But the taunts and beatings from his school mates, and witnessing the persecution his lover John had suffered as an adult, had left invisible scars, had made him wary, cautious, and a little afraid.

Now he had just as soon preferred that the people in Section, like the children in his high school, had remained unaware of his preferences. But that was impossible now, not after the Bauer mission a year ago, when Brian had been forced by Section to give the green-listed terrorist the entertainment he wanted, i.e., watching Michael and Nikita have sex with a bisexual partner of Section’s choosing- Brian.

Now everyone knew. Everyone knew he had slept with Michael, and then subsequently had developed a crush on the man. Michael had never discussed it, but he hadn’t acted ashamed of it, either. In fact, Brian was honored now that the two of them had moved beyond that, into a relationship even more deeply meaningful- that of close friends.

Brian had hoped the furor about their coupling, and the rumors, the snickers and sneers behind his back, would die down. And eventually, they had, although Brian had been acutely uncomfortable about the natural gossip this encounter had engendered at the time.

Operations seemed to enjoy keeping the gossip alive, by taunting the young doctor every chance he got about Brian’s brief one-time love affair with Michael- calling the sensitive young doctor a fag, queer, sissy, or fairy at every opportunity. He especially like to taunt Brian this way in Michael’s presence, enjoying humiliating both men at the same time.

It occurred to Brian in his musings a simple truth. His teammates, and the Section operatives in general, had not really given a damn one way or another about who he slept with. No one but Operations had been petty enough to make an issue of it. He realized with a start that he had been accepted, bi-sexuality and all- by his peers in Section One. He was one of them.

Almost.

Brian closed his eyes, remembering that time a year ago. He had gotten over loving Michael- not as a friend, but loving him in a sexual way, desiring him- when he had fallen in love with Jilly.

Her love had healed him somehow, repaired his wounds, bolstered his self-esteem and made him feel accepted, whole. He had been crushed when she had left him, abruptly, with just a few words, when he had wanted to make their relationship permanent and official by suggesting they get married.

He scowled, his mouth twisting with remembered pain. She had never said so, and Brian had been too shy to ask, but he had always suspected that Jilly’s violently negative reaction to his proposal had been prompted by her unresolved feelings about Brian’s sexuality. Maybe she didn’t think he could be faithful, that his attraction to both sexes meant he had twice as much temptation to stray.

But Brian’s nature wasn’t like that. When he loved, he loved completely, with total devotion and single-mindedness. He had never had a casual relationship of any kind. Every lover he had had- and there had been only a handful- had been someone he was deeply in love with, and serious about. Getting married kind of serious.

Brian’s runaway thoughts turned again full circle to Ann. He was so sure about her, so convinced that they were meant to be together, he knew, even in this early stage of their relationship, that eventually he would someday ask her to be his wife. In fact, he had even felt the urge to mention it just a short time before, when he was declaring his love to her before the mission.

But what if he was screwing things up again, just like he had with Jilly before? He shivered. "You IDIOT," he told himself, pacing and muttering under his breath. "Don’t ruin things this time…"

He peered into the darkness where his Beloved had gone into danger. He could see nothing, only blackness, and the night was as quiet as a newly dug grave. Even the birds were still, breathless with waiting, just as he was. He strained to hear anything, to see anything. The team had faded into the night, and his com unit was eerily silent. As he waited tensely for a sign from the woods that his friends were all right, he made a solemn vow to the darkness.

"I’m not going to lose her. I’m not going to f*ck up this time," he mused anxiously. " When she gets back," he told himself in his mind, "I’ll go slow. I’ll make sure I don’t mention marriage for a long time, and that we’ll discuss everything, really get to know each other first, before I even think about making love to her…."

Little did he know that before the day was through, he would have broken all these vows, and then some.

He sighed tensely, and again peered into the silent night. He ached to hear something, anything…..

His unspoken wish was granted, but not the way he had hoped. The next instant, the tranquil silence was shattered by the sounds of ear-splitting gunfire, repeating deafeningly, over and over….

And then Brian heard the screams…….

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

Brian froze for a minute, stunned by the harsh keening wail that ripped through the night, chilling him to the bone. The scream went on and on, a ululating, uncontrolled siren of agony.

Human agony. The pitch changed, going higher still, the scream piercing through Brian’s soul. Instinctively, unconsciously, Brian automatically reached behind him to check that his back-pack of medical supplies was still there, hanging snugly between his shoulder blades, and then he took off at a dead run, heading straight for the source of that dreadful wail, orders to stay put forgotten.

He covered ground quickly, with his long legs flying, heedless of the need for stealth or concealment. He raced through the dark woods, focused solely on one thing- coming to the aid of the this tortured human, ending their pain…

His breaths came in harsh sobs now, and suddenly Brian found himself crying, weeping openly, freely, as he ran forward through the night.

John, he thought, with remembered anguish. John had screamed like that, at the end, when the pain from the cancer had gotten too much to bear. Brian sobbed, the scream of the unknown injured one in the woods blending in his mind with his lovers’ cries of agony in the hospital so long ago….

They had tortured him, Brian had concluded. The doctors had tortured John. There was no other word for it. Every fours hours, they allowed him his morphine, no more, no less. The first hour, sometimes the first two, if it was a good day, the drug was enough to ease John’s pain enough so that he only moaned and whimpered. But by the third hour, the morphine had worn off so much that Brian’s dying life- partner could only sob out his agony in his lover’s arms.

Brian ran now, breathless, terrified, toward the wounded man’s screams. The sounds ripped through him, ripped through his heart…

The fourth hour--- for the fourth hour, John had screamed like that…… Until Brian, unable to endure anymore, had at last delivered the dose of mercy that had stopped John’s cries…..

Blinded by his tears, the young doctor staggered toward the sound of the gut-wrenching wailing. He was dimly aware of movement in the shadows, but whether the shadows were friend or foe, he couldn’t tell, nor did he care. His only focus was on reaching the dying man, the one from today, not from his past….

He prayed the outcome would be different this time, that no one would die. Not if he could help it….

The scream was louder- he was getting near. The gunfire had slowed from constant noise, to sporadic bursts, and then ceased. There was nothing to hear in the woods now, nothing but the screams….

Brian broke into a sprint, pushing to cover ground, feeling the press of time. It had only been- what? A minute? Two? Maybe not even that long, since the screaming began, but it had felt like a life-time to Brian, and to the victim as well, he was sure. Minutes were what made all the difference in Brian’s profession. It could mean the difference between life and death. That’s why he was here, on the mission, in the first place- to make that difference…

Gasping for breath, Brian finally entered a section of woods where the trees thinned, not far from the high fence around the house where the terrorists made their lair. There.. there on the ground, a flash of white, a face, contorted in agony, a face, from which the horrible screams came, the throat emitting its death cry….

Brian tore off his back pack from his shoulders as he ran the last few yards, and skidded to his knees beside the fallen man. He already had the pack open, and was groping in it for supplies, before he hit the ground. Brian palmed the syringe of pain medication and slammed it home in his patient’s arm, even before he began to examine the man, who was writhing and twisting on the leaf-scattered ground.

"Arrrrhhhggghhh…" the man screamed louder at Brian’s touch. The doctor deftly turned him over onto his back, to get a look at the source of the victim’s pain. It was not hard to find.

"Jesus," Brian breathed, as a fountain of blood gushed geyser-like out of the wounded man’s thigh, in rhythmic spurts, the life literally pulsing out of him with each beat of his heart…

Quickly, Brian leaned forward on his knees and placed his large hands on the shredded artery on the man’s leg, applying firm pressure to stop the bleeding. It was crude, and unsanitary, but it worked. Brian felt the warm blood pulse against his palms, and then seep back inside, no longer having an avenue of escape from the man’s body with the barrier of Brian’s hands in the way.

The pain medication was starting to take effect, the patient’s constant screams subsiding into softer wails, at further intervals apart. Brian took a deep breath of relief, and met the panicked eyes of the man whose life he had just saved. "You’re going to be all right," the doctor soothed, gasping for breath. His heart raced, as the adrenaline in his system still pumped through him full force. He felt frightened, but elated at the same time, pleased at this victory against his old opponent called Death.

"Who…. Are… you……?" the patient gasped, feebly lifting his head up to look into the doctor’s face. It was then that Brian realized he had made a big mistake.

"Oh, Christ," Brian swore in shock.

The man whose life he had saved was not one of his teammates. The man whose life’s blood beat against his palms was a terrorist from Red Cell.

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

Brian took in a harsh breath and closed his eyes, trying to think. He realized that Ann had been right to order him to stay behind at the base camp, out if harm’s way. "I AM a total f*ck-up," Brian thought to himself, remembering Michael’s words to him about how the doctor’s presence on the mission would be a liability. Michael had certainly called that one right, Brian thought with a bitter sigh.

Not only had he disobeyed his orders to stay put, he had run straight into the battle scene where bullets were flying, unaware and uncaring of where his people or the enemy’s people were. In that moment, he hadn’t given a damn about the mission, the terrorists, or even about his own safety. In fact, the only thing he HAD cared about was helping another human being in pain.

Brian bit his lip, and wondered fleetingly if he could have done anything differently. He wondered if he could have been able to stand by on that hill, in the safety of the camp, and just listen to another human being’s torment and do nothing. No, it would have been impossible, the doctor realized. If he had done that, it would have shredded his tender heart into pieces, damaged him beyond repair. Section would have succeeded in their goal of crushing his compassion, destroying his soul, and he knew suddenly with deep conviction inside that they would never be able to do that. He’d be dead first.

He was a doctor, damn it! A healer. Not a killer. His intrinsic impulse to do good could never be crushed out of him, no matter how much training in ruthlessness he was given. No, there was nothing he could have done anything differently, Brian decided, answering his own question. He would have done the same thing again, even knowing who the victim was.

"I’m not ashamed and I’m not sorry," Brian told himself. "I’m STUPID," he admitted in his mind, " But I’m not SORRY…."

But having these moral questions straight in his mind did not solve his current dilemma. He still was here in the middle of a battle field, cut off from his comrades, literally right on top of the enemy….

The patient- no, the TERRORIST- Brian amended in his thoughts, moaned loudly then and struggled to sit up. Brian soothed him again, pressing his hands more firmly down on the man’s wounded leg, and urging him to stay still. "Don’t move, just rest…. Shhhh… it’s okay…." Brian murmured softly, just as he would have to any of his patients in Medlab. He wished fervently he was there now, he wished he was back in Section….

The terrorist gasped out a ragged breath, and leaned back, resting his head on the ground. "Are… you a …doctor?" he groaned, turning wide pain-filled eyes to meet Brian’s compassionate blue ones.

Brian nodded. "Yes," he answered simply.

The terrorist blinked. "Ours?" he choked out, startled.

Brian let out an embarrassed sigh. "No," he admitted ruefully. "Not yours."

The man started to laugh, but then was caught with another paroxysm of pain, and he subsided limply back on the ground, closing his eyes. "Funny… he gasped weakly. "Very funny…"

Brian let out a martyred sigh. "Yeah, real funny," he said in a morose tone, wondering what Michael would do to him if he ever got out of this impossible situation he was in. *Probably kick my butt,* the doctor guessed disconsolately. *Then shoot me..*

The weary doctor looked up peering into the darkness, hoping for rescue, but couldn’t see anything. He would love to see Michael right now, he thought, no matter how pissed off he was. He would love to see ANYONE from Section, in fact, the doctor prayed fervently. He knew he was way out of his depth, and had no clue what to do. Medicine he could handle, but he felt totally incompetent at this whole spy thing. What he had just done had proven that.

There was a rustle in the woods, and Brian heard footsteps approaching. He looked up eagerly, anticipating with fervent hope that it was his teammates coming to get him out of the mess he was in. That hope faded rapidly when he felt the gun pressed roughly into his back.

"Get up," a gruff angry voice ordered from behind him. "Get away from him, NOW."

Brian swallowed hard, and stayed where he was. He knew if he did as ordered, if he removed his hands from the terrorist’s wound, there would be nothing to keep the man from bleeding to death in a few seconds. His patient would die.

"No," the doctor answered softly. "I can’t."

The next sound he heard was the click of the gun behind him, and then the world exploded into blackness…..

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

After a time, the darkness that engulfed Brian lifted, and he opened his eyes.

Through a foggy haze, he saw her. She was floating above him, in a soft, blurry, cloud, her presence nebulous, but somehow unmistakably real.

It was an angel, he realized. An angel out of a dream….

Brian closed his eyes tight, then opened them again, half expecting the dream vision to disappear when he did so, but she didn’t. The angel was still there, leaning over him, an angel with a halo of copper-gold hair shining like molten sunlight around her head, and flowing like wings down her shoulders. The angel’s face was like a Medieval painting, sensitive-lipped mouth , concerned, luminous blue eyes, and skin of radiant peach-gold. Then the angel spoke, and Brian knew for sure he was in Heaven.

"Thank God you’re okay," the vision sobbed brokenly, stroking his face gently. "Brian, Darling, I was so worried…" She kissed his brow, very carefully, the touch the sweetest he had ever felt. She gazed adoringly into his eyes. "I thought I’d lost you…." The angel moaned.

Brian closed his eyes again, then opened them slowly. He blinked rapidly several times, and his vision cleared, the angel coming into focus. "Ann?" he gasped sharply, and sat up.

He immediately wished he hadn’t. "Arrhhh.. uh…" the young doctor grunted, as a stab of agonizing pain pierced violently through his temples. He collapsed back onto the bed, writhing, and fighting not to retch.

"Brian, don’t move… shhh… Brian…." Ann murmured in alarm, holding him still by his shoulders. "Take it easy…"

He did as she asked, unable to do anything else but lie there helplessly until the waves of pain and nausea passed. He closed his eyes and panted, gulping in great gasps of air, as if in hopes that the air would act as a breeze to blow the heavy fog of pain from his head…

After a time, this seemed to work, the pain easing enough so that Brian dared to cautiously open his eyes once more. He had learned his lesson. This time he didn’t even consider trying to sit up.

His vision seemed to be sharper than before, and the hazy clouds behind the angel’s halo had coalesced into a single bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling of a rather grubby, windowless basement room, reflecting off of bare gray walls in an even more starkly bare room. He realized that the cot on which he lay was the only item of furniture in the room, unless you counted large cobwebs as furniture.

Brian swiveled his eyes very carefully to take in Ann’s face. "Where…?" he croaked out hoarsely, too weary to ask a question with more than one syllable.

The angelic team leader grimaced. "We’re in the farmhouse- prisoners of Fitzpatrick and company," she told him in a glum tone, under-laced with fear.

Brian’s head and stomach both throbbed painfully at this news. "Sh*t….." he grunted in dismay, and carefully wriggled up to support himself on his elbows, raising his head slowly to look at her. The room only spun a little bit at this movement, and he took a steadying breath and asked another question. "What… happened?"

Ann bit her lower lip and then carefully settled on the edge of the cot, slipping her hand comfortingly in his. "The attack--- failed. We were out-gunned and out-numbered," the team leader told him with a shaky sigh. "We didn’t have a chance, with just t-twelve people…" she whispered, her voice trembling with sorrow and an undercurrent of bitter rage, which Brian knew was directed not at him, but at Operations.

The young doctor paled at these words. "Our team---" he choked out. "Are they… all dead?"

Ann closed her eyes and turned her head away. "I don’t know…." She told him in an anguished whisper. "Lazlo and Cooper were hit first, within the first few minutes, then Oswald and Jenkins…"

"Jesus…" Brian gasped, gripping her hand tightly in his. "No….." This news stung him, his heart wrenched in shocked sorrow, mourning for his fallen comrades.

"I knew then it was useless to go on- there was no chance for success," she went on quietly. "I gave the signal to abort, and Cummings and I were retreating, when we were surrounded by Fitzpatrick’s men….." Her voice broke on the next words. "They were going to shoot me, until they saw that I was a woman, and then they started to.. to…." She stopped, unable to go on.

Brian struggled to sit up further, and then he reached for her, pulling Ann into his arms. He moaned her name, and buried his face in her hair, trembling as much as she was. "My God.." he gasped, rocking her, holding her close.

Ann sobbed against his shoulder, and went on in a muffled voice, "They shot Cummings between the eyes when he tried to stop them…"

Terrified, Brian forced himself to ask the next question. "Did they rape you?" he burst out raggedly, his voice hoarse with anguish.

Against the broad wall of his chest, Ann shook her head. "No…" she whispered softly, in a voice so low that Brian had to strain to hear her. "Ian Fitzpatrick, their leader, showed up then, and ordered them to leave me alone and go finish rounding up the rest of our team…." She sighed, and pulled back from Brian’s embrace, tilting her face up to look at him.

"I don’t know if any of the rest of our group survived," she admitted sorrowfully. "They threw me in here and locked me in, and I don’t know what’s going on on the outside…"

She reached for him in sudden urgency, stretching her hand up to stroke back a lock of curly dark hair from his cheek. "I didn’t know if you were dead or alive, My Darling…" she told him in a voice husky with tears. "I almost died myself when they brought you in here and dumped you inside…" Ann let out a sob, and then burrowed back into Brian’s arms. "You looked so lifeless, so pale….." She broke into anxious sobs once more.

Brian held her close again, rocking her, stroking her back, caressing the soft, glorious hair. "Shh, I’m fine now," he assured, kissing her forehead softly. "They just konked me in the head, I guess…" He let out a short laugh. "Good thing they picked a thick hard spot, isn’t it?" he said wryly, referring to his well-known trait of stubbornness and intractability.

Ann responded with her magical, musical laugh, and impulsively kissed his cheek. "Good thing," she echoed warmly.

Brian held her away from him then, at arms length, and then stroked back the silky hair that had fallen around her face, pushing it back behind her shoulders. "Let me get a look at you," he said, trying to achieve a professional tone. "Are you really okay?"

Her lips parted, and she let out a sigh. "Yeah, I’m okay…" she breathed softly. She gave him a sudden brave smile. "Really."

Brian peered at her, his eyes narrowing. "Let me be the judge of that," he insisted, and then he swung his legs to the side of the bed, and staggered to his feet. He swayed wobbily for a moment, as another wave of dizziness and nausea hit him, then quickly passed. Ann stood up and crossed to his side, slipping her hand supportively under his arm.

Brian smiled gently at her, and then turned her to stand directly under the light. He tilted her face up with a gentle hand under her chin, and then began his examination. "That’s a nasty bruise you got there," he commented, frowning at a darkening purple shadow on her cheek.

Ann shrugged. "One of them slapped me," she admitted, then gave Brian a sly grin. "I punched him back," she said almost proudly. "I bet his bruise is worse…."

Brian smiled back, fleetingly, and then resumed his perusal for injuries. Ann’s mask, coat, and vest had been taken from her, and she stood before him in a sleeveless black t-shirt and clinging mission pants, her arms bare. He realized suddenly it was the same condition he was in, and he felt a brief stab of loss for his absent back-pack of medical supplies.

The examination continued as Brian, one by one, took Ann’s hands into his. He frowned in dismay again as he discovered more bruises on her forearms and biceps. She winced sharply as he turned her left wrist at an outward angle. "Sprained, not broken," he grunted appraisingly. "If I had my field kit, I could wrap it for you…"

Ann shook her head. "Don’t bother," she said dismissively . "It’s nothing."

Brian lapsed from the professional to the personal. "It’s not just "nothing" to ME," he whispered, and bent his head to quickly kiss her, before resuming his role as her doctor.

His hands skimmed lightly over her ribs and back, and she winced again when his hands reached her waist. Giving her a stern look that would brook no argument, he pulled her shirt up from her slacks, and bent his head to check the site of her pain. Another dark bruise flowered in the hollow under her ribs, this one larger than any of the others.

"Christ," Brian uttered in disgust. "I’m going to kill the bastard that did this to you….."

Ann let out a sigh, and slipped her arms under Brian’s again, and nestled her head on his shoulder.

"Shhh," she whispered, sensing that he needed comforting even more than she did. "Don’t…." she breathed into his ear, her lips grazing his jaw. "Don’t fret, Love…." She kissed him lightly just under his chin. "It’ll be all right…." Then she brushed her lips over his….

Brian groaned and clung to her, then his mouth found hers, seeking the haven of comfort that her kiss offered. His lips savored hers, hungrily, desperately, drinking deeply of her sweetness and her strength. His hands strayed upwards to cup the back of her neck, holding her to him as he plundered her lips, his fingers tangling in the silky mane of hair.

His kiss was firm, inexorable, but he used no force other than the force of his own need, offering her all his own sweetness in return. Ann surrendered completely, closing her eyes and reveling in the soft depths that Brian in turn surrendered to her, each discovering that the more they gave to the other, the more they received…

They were so lost in the magic of each other in that moment, that neither one of them heard the door open as their captor stepped inside, watching them with an amused leer from just inside the doorway.

The terrorist cleared his throat, and laughed. "Well, well," Ian Fitzpatrick chuckled. "Isn’t this just too romantic?"

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

The couple jumped apart at this intrusion, the magical spell of their kiss shattered by their captor’s mocking laugh. Brian shoved Ann behind him and took a protective stance in front of her, shielding her from the terrorist’s hard, appraising gaze. The young doctor glared intently at the man in the doorway, wondering if this was the bastard that had hurt his precious angel, the one who had tried to violate his beautiful Ann.

He was a big man, taller even than Brian, and brawnier. His shoulders beneath his leather coat were impossibly wide, and his neck rose like a thick tree trunk from his collar, supporting a large, lion-like head with a mane of bright golden hair. He looked to be about fifty or so in age, but his handsome, regular features had a timeless quality- he looked like a Viking Prince out of some fairy-tale book….

He crossed his huge powerful arms across the wide chest, and took a step closer.

Brian growled a warning. "Back off," he hissed.

The terrorist seemed amused by Brian’s watchdog stance, and laughed again, sauntering further into the room, and smiled in delight. "Well, Doctor, I’m glad to see you are feeling better…." He flickered his gaze to Ann again, and then leered at the couple once more. "Quite frisky, in fact…."

The terrorist tilted his massive blonde head and regarded Brian thoughtfully. "My son will be happy to hear that."

Brian blinked, confused. "Your… son?" he asked, scowling warily, unsettled. What did this man’s family have to do with anything, Brian wondered?

Their captor’s smile faded, his expression suddenly transforming from one of teasing amusement to sorrow and concern.

"Yes, my son," he answered gently, his voice rough with affection and deep loyalty. "Raymond would be dead now if you hadn’t stepped in to save him from bleeding to death…" The lion’s head lifted, and their enemy fixed Brian with his cool gray eyes. "Why did you?" he asked, puzzled.

Behind Brian’s shoulder, Ann gasped. She sluiced her eyes to look at the young doctor, her own eyes wide with shock. She had assumed the bombers had captured Brian at the encampment, but apparently this was not the case. Brian must have disobeyed her orders, and had gone right into the thick of the battle, treating the wounded- wounded ENEMIES, no less.

"Brian!" she hissed, unable to help herself. "You saved him?" she choked out in astonishment. "You saved Raymond FITZPATRICK?"

Brian flushed red, embarrassed, but also stubbornly unashamed. Part of him was feeling foolish for being such an obvious failure at the game of espionage, but for the most part, he felt no regret for what he had done. He was a doctor, a healer. He had only done what it was instinctive for him to do- save lives, not take them.

The prisoner sighed and closed his eyes. "I didn’t know it was Fitzpatrick," he explained quietly. "All I knew was someone in the field needed my help.." He turned pleading blue eyes to Ann. "I could hear the man screaming from where I was in the woods," he went on in a low voice, full of calm conviction. He stated the truth, not knowing if either one of his listeners would understand. "I couldn’t stand by and just let whoever it was suffer like that. I had to do something…."

Ann blinked, and then let out a sigh. Of course, she thought. This was Brian, after all. Kind hearted and giving, generous, caring loving. Somehow, his innocence, his tenderness had survived, even in Section, even in the midst of a mission to kill. Of course he had rushed to help. It was what he would do. It was why she loved him so.

She nodded at him, soft tears of pride in her eyes. "Yes, I see…" she said gently, and slipped her hand into his. Brian smiled at her, his heart flooded with warmth at her understanding.

Ian Fitzpatrick was beginning to understand as well. His eyes narrowed as he studied the young doctor intently. "So it’s true," he said in a deep rumbling voice, his tone that of shocked surprise. "You really are that genuinely… naïve, that honestly … simple…" The big man let out a sharp laugh, and shook his head.

"Raymond told me you were pure in your motivations to help him, but I couldn’t believe you didn’t have some ulterior motive or hidden agenda," Fitzpatrick went on in a tone of pure amazement. "So it wasn’t a trick after all.." He smiled broadly. "How…. Interesting…" He chuckled again. "How.. bizarre…"

Brian blushed again, this time from anger, and stared at the floor. He realized how stupid, how incomprehensible, his explanation must sound to this vicious bomber, this slaughterer of innocents. He raised his head and stared into his captor’s amused gray eyes.

"It’s not that strange," Brian responded, his chin lifting defiantly. "Not all human beings get their jollies from killing people…" Brian’s gaze flickered up and down the terrorist’s huge frame, from his eyes to his boots and back again. "Like you," Brian spat out, with deliberate contempt.

Fitzpatrick glared back into Brian’s eyes, holding very still for a moment, as if in shock. Ann tensed, watching Fitzpatrick process this insult. She wondered what punishment this giant enemy was planning for them for this defiance. She held her breath, and waited.

A second later, the terrorist blinked, and scratched his head. "Well, well," he said with a huge guffawing laugh, "So you’re innocent, simple, AND brave," he commented with a shake of his head. His eyes met Brian’s, and he gave the doctor a warm smile. "I think I like you…." He quipped drolly.

Brian twisted his mouth in a moue of disgust. "It’s NOT mutual," he answered back, repulsed.

Fitzpatrick let out a snort of delight, and began pacing the room. "Well, Doctor, you might not appreciate my admiration for you, but you should," he mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "That, and my curiosity about you is the only reason why you are still alive right now…."

He stopped his pacing and faced his prisoners squarely, his gaze flickering from one to the other as the couple stood side by side, still holding hands. "Ordinarily, we never take prisoners, just dispatch the enemy and move on," he said quietly. "But in your case, my dears, I made an exception.."

"YOU, my good doctor," Fitzpatrick continued, jabbing his finger into Brian’s chest, "are alive because I wanted to know why you had saved my son…"

"And YOU, my Lovely," he said, turning to Ann, his voice deepening with lust, "I spared because I thought you might provide some…. amusement…."

He reached out one beefy hand then to caress a strand of Ann’s bright hair; she flinched as the giant’s fingers brushed her cheek, and Brian lost it.

"Bastard!" he screamed, and lunged for the terrorist’s throat.

"Brian, no!" Ann yelled. She watched helplessly as Fitzpatrick overcame Brian’s frenzied attack with cool ease. Unruffled, almost calmly, the big man gripped Brian’s arm and twisted it high behind his back, and then pulled the angry young doctor against his massive chest, and then held him there, wrapping one beefy arm around Brian’s throat.

Brian grunted in frustration, and struggled furiously, but to no avail. He was no match for the intractable force of the terrorist who held him fast in his grip. Still, he fought on. Panting hard, Brian arched his back against the terrorist’s chest and let out a cry of pure visceral rage. "You touch her, and I’ll kill you!" he screamed hoarsely.

Fitzpatrick was again amused. He smiled widely at this threat, pleased. At last, he thought, an emotion he could understand. Fitzpatrick’s gaze flickered up to Ann, who was standing with every muscle tensed, an expression of pure terror on her face. "Please!" she begged roughly. "Please don’t hurt him…."

She knew better than to expect mercy from this hardened killer, but she had to try. The words had been torn from her, unbidden, coming from deep within her very soul. It was as if her heart had screamed in protest on behalf of her beloved.

Fitzpatrick tightened his grip on Brian’s throat, forcing him to be still, and then turned his head to whisper into the doctor’s ear. "Interesting," he said, still in his tone of cool amusement. "This is your woman, then?" he asked, curious.

Brian’s wide frightened eyes locked with Ann’s. She gazed back, her eyes as tender and tear-filled as his. An electric current of understanding and connection passed between them.

"Yes," Brian confessed with a gasp. "My woman…." He choked out.

Fitzpatrick raised one eyebrow. "You love her?" he queried, jerking Brian’s head back forcefully and giving the doctor’s arm another cruel twist.

Brian grunted in pain, and then locked eyes with Ann again. He looked into the angel’s face and declared his devotion. "I … love.. you…" he gasped, speaking only to her. "I love you, Ann…"

The angel buried her face in her hands and sobbed brokenly. "I love you, too," she cried out, knowing that soon they both would die at their enemy’s hands, and unable to keep this truth inside her any longer. She raised her head, and her eyes met his. "I love you, Brian…" she sobbed, knowing it would be he last chance to tell him so.

"How.. touching," Fitzpatrick said then, in a sincere tone. To the couple’s shocked relief, he did not snap Brian’s neck as they anticipated, but instead, released him.

Brian staggered forward, coughing, straight into Ann’s waiting arms. She clung to him, holding him tight, and buried her face in his shoulder, still crying. Brian wrapped his arms around her, and rested his head against the silky hair, still gasping. He crushed her to his chest, and locked his arms around her, knowing it might be their last embrace, knowing that he would be helpless to stop Fitzpatrick from ripping his cherished angel from him. He knew both of them would soon be dead at the terrorist’s hands. A hoarse sob erupted from his throat, and he bent his head to kiss Ann one last time, a kiss goodbye…

She trembled violently in his arms, unable to return the kiss as her own harsh sobs took her. She could only clutch Brian’s shoulders desperately as she quivered in his arms, melting her warmth into his, as if by pressing close enough she could absorb his strength and sweetness, his love, into herself to take with her, to comfort and shield her from the violation and death that was to come…..

From behind them, they heard the terrorist heave a great sigh. "Oh, well, all right," he said on an expelled breath, as if the words had been coerced unwillingly from him. "I won’t kill you……. Just yet…."

Brian lifted his head and met Fitzpatrick’s gray eyes. "W-What?" the doctor choked out in shocked surprise. Ann regarded Fitzpatrick in wary fear from the shelter of Brian’s embrace, untrusting of this promise. "You’re toying with us," she accused him in a harsh angry tone.

Fitzpatrick gave her a wounded look, his eyes widening. "You underestimate me, dear lady," he said in a gently. "It hurts me that you doubt my sincerity, but I assure you, I meant what I said…."

The gray eyes twinkled with amusement again, and the giant crossed his arms across his expansive chest, watching the couple with avid interest. "There’s something I want to do for you FIRST, before I have you killed- call it a reward, or a thank you gift, for saving my son…." Fitzpatrick beamed a great smile.

Brian swallowed hard, disturbed by that look, and suspicious of what the smile implied. "Don’t bother," Brian spat out in angry contempt, believing as Ann did that their captor was toying with them. "We sure as hell don’t want anything from a scumbag like you….." the doctor told him boldly.

"Brian!" Ann gasped out in warning, terrified at the thought of what Fitzpatrick’s reaction would be to Brian’s out-and-out challenge. But their captor, to her shock, was not offended, but only laughed heartily in response.

Fitzpatrick did not seem angry in return, but amused. He shook his head and stood chuckling at them, his huge shoulders shaking with laughter. "Yes, my Boy, I DO like you," he gasped out, when he at last had control of his mirth. "And I DO owe you a little something, at least, for what you did for my son…" He lifted his massive blond head and met Brian’s startled blue eyes. "You might not believe it, but I actually do know something about honor, and paying back debts," he told them, his voice sobering. "I’ll see to it that you get what you deserve, I promise…."

Ann stiffened, tensing in Brian’s arms. Fitzpatrick’s words sounding to her like a distinct threat. "What are you going to do to us?" she demanded in alarm.

The giant bowed to her, and smiled once more. "You’ll see, Pretty One," he answered enigmatically. He chuckled once again and strode to the door. "I’ll be back shortly," he promised them from the threshold of their prison room. "As soon as I’ve made all the arrangements." The terrorist gave Brian a courteous nod of the head, and then turned to leave, locking the door behind him. They could hear the giant’s laughter echoing all the way down the hallway.

Brian’s eyes met Ann’s, hers as wide with fear as his own. Then he made a comment that expressed both their feelings about the situation completely.

"Oh, sh*t," the doctor swore. "Oh, sh*t……"

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

Michael tensed in his seat in the gray van, listening impotently while the gunshots echoed through the forest. He knew without even listening to the desperate voices of First Team coming through his com-link, or looking at Birkoff’s computer screen, that the mission was a failure. He shook his head grimly, surprised at himself for feeling an overwhelming sense of shock. After all, he thought fatalistically, things were going exactly as he had expected them to. With no back up, an inadequate number of operatives, little prep time and even less real intel, the mission had been doomed from the start.

"Merde," he cursed softly under his breath, hearing in his earpiece, almost as an anticlimax, Ann’s frantic order to her team to abort.

It was another massacre, he thought. Ann’s team was being overwhelmed as he knew they would be. Michael’s gaze flickered up to meet Birkoff’s soft brown eyes, the young computer genius obviously as concerned as he was.

"Status?" he barked tensely.

Birkoff grimaced and shook his head. "Over half the team’s been hit, as far as I can tell," he reported grimly. "The rest of them aren’t responding…." The young man closed his eyes and ran a weary hand over the short stubble of buzzed hair. "This whole thing is so BOGUS," he spat out in disgust. "We should have had back-up and…."

Michael waved him to be quiet with a quick, impatient gesture of his hand. "We’ll rehash this later during debrief," he said curtly. "For now, let’s pick up the survivors and get out of here," he ordered tensely. He crossed the small space to where Birkoff sat in front of his monitor and leaned over the younger man’s shoulder, looking at the screen. Small red dots on the map indicated the location of their people. Most of the dots weren’t moving, and some had faded to a dull brown color, indicating that the infa-red scan detected a lowering of body temperature- in other words, those operatives were dead.

"Christ," Michael cursed loudly. Birkoff gave him a sharp, nervous look- he had never known Michael to be so openly expressive of his emotions as this on missions. He guessed correctly that the Class Five operative was having a difficult time controlling his anger and disgust about the situation. Michael had been seething ever since Operations had railroaded this flawed profile through, despite Michael’s protests that it was a disaster in the making.

Just then there was a sudden scrabbling noise outside the van, and two operatives appeared in the door way, one of them wounded, the other supporting his teammate with his arm under the other’s shoulder. Gasping, they piled into the van, Michael helping the injured man to a seat on one of the banquettes. When they had settled there, Michael went back to the door, an expectant look on his face, and peered out into the darkness, waiting for more of First Team to return.

"They’re not coming," the uninjured operative panted out.

Michael flinched, his back going stiff. He turned to face the man who had spoken. "What do you mean, Wilkins?" he said with deadly calm, the blank stare firmly in place. Wilkins looked away, his lower lip quivering slightly. He jerked his head toward the man beside him, indicating his wounded comrade. "Richards and I are the only ones left," he said forlornly, then sighed. "We’re the only ones who were able to make it out of there…."

Michael paled visibly, hie eyes going dark with shock. "What about Ann?" he asked urgently. "Where is she?"

Wilkins bit his lip, and looked like he wanted to cry. "Fitzpatrick’s men got her," he whispered hoarsely.

"She’s dead?" Birkoff gasped, unable to process this loss of a close teammate. He had worked more closely with Ann than anyone, collaborating with her on profiling the missions.

Wilkins closed his eyes, and let out a shaky breath. "Not yet," he said tightly, almost choking on his words. "The bastards looked like they wanted to …have fun with her first…." He told them in a tone of pure misery.

"Jesus…" Birkoff breathed, putting his head in his hands in shock.

Michael blinked almost uncomprehendingly at this intel, and then closed his eyes. His face went an even whiter shade of pale, and then he swayed on his feet. There was a respectful period of silence from the others as Michael processed this appalling information. After a moment, the class five operative recovered a little of his composure, and he took a deep breath and asked Wilkins another hard question.

"Where’s Brian?" he demanded tensely.

Wilkins shook his head. "They got him, too," he answered grimly. "I didn’t see anything myself, but Richards here told me he saw the Doc surrounded, and then get a pistol slammed into the back of his skull…"

"Merde," Michael swore again, as a hard, crushing pain gripped his heart. "You think he’s dead?" he asked tersely, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Wilkins shook his head. "Don’t know," he said forlornly.

There was another tense silence after this remark, the men all speechless with grief at this unthinkable loss. Michael felt hollow inside, empty, and ravaged, as if a piece of his soul , the piece that belonged to Brian, had been ripped from him, leaving him raw and bleeding.

A querulous, disembodied voice split the silence. "Michael!" Operations barked over the com unit. "The mission is over! Why aren’t you on the way in?"

The green-eyed operative swallowed hard, struggling to get control of his breathing, and then answered. "The team leader had been taken prisoner by the targets," he reported in a voice as cool and flat as he could make it, which took a valiant effort, considering he was enraged and grieving inside. "Doctor Whicker might possibly be with her," Michael continued, trying to give himself hope. "I’ll call for a back-up team- when they arrive, we’ll make an attempt to extract them…."

"No!" Operations almost screamed irately. "There will be no back-up team, and no rescue attempt," he ranted on. "The mission is OVER. Gather up what’s left of your sorry team and get your butt back to Section, NOW." Operations’ angry voice held an underlying tone of desperation.

Michael’s eyes hardened, and his mouth firmed into a grim line. If he interpreted the Section leader’s rage and panic correctly, it could be assumed that Oversight was breathing down Operations’ neck about the failed mission just now, and the head of Section was eager to have a scapegoat on which to divert the blame of this debacle- Michael himself. Michael also assumed correctly that Operations could care less about the fate of one lowly profiler and a tender-hearted Medlab physician.

But Michael cared about them. He cared very much. His eyes met those of his comrades in the van, and he knew that they cared, too.

"Michael!" the enraged leader yelled again over the link when his orders had only been met with silence. "Michael! Do you hear me??"

A defiant look flared in the green eyes, and the full lips pulled back from the even white teeth in what was half grimace, half smile. "I’m sorry, Sir," Michael replied in an innocent tone as he told his bold-faced lie. "There is a lot of interference on this channel. I’m having trouble hearing you…"

Birkoff grinned, and Wilkins stifled a laugh. Even the wounded man Richards managed a wan smile. They were enjoying this immensely.

"Michael, God damn it!" The Section leader screamed furiously. "Michael! Listen to me! You’re not going to pull this crap on me! I…."

Michael’s mouth quirked up at the corners. "I think our communications link has been compromised," he said in a satisfied tone, voice still guilelessly innocent. "I’m cutting all contact with Section," he announced with a genuine smile. "My team and I are on mandatory refusal until the mission is complete." He nodded at the grinning Birkoff and made a slicing motion across his throat, letting the young genius know to kill the com link. "Michael out."

"Michael! You bastard! God DAMN you! Mic---" Operations voice stopped in mid- curse as Birkoff palmed the toggle switch to cut the link.

"That was cool!" the computer expert crowed in admiration, giving Michael another wide grin.

Wilkins eyed Michael thoughtfully. "That was amazingly ball-sy of you, man," he said in a tone of deep respect. "But the fact remains, there’s only three of us- four, if you count Richards here- ," he said, shaking his head. "How the hell are we going to take down a whole encampment of terrorists AND get out people back?"

Michael only smiled. He reached in his jacket pocket and took out his cell phone, and dialed a number. Then he spoke softly into the receiver when the person on the other end of the line answered.

"Josephine…."

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

Brian prowled the narrow confines of the windowless basement room, scanning the barren walls restlessly. His gazed solemnly at the locked door of his prison cell and then let out a sigh. "Do you think Michael knows we’re here?" he asked hopefully, turning to Ann.

The team-leader slumped wearily onto the small cot and rubbed her hand over her eyes. "It’s possible," she said gently, not wanting to encourage Brian’s hope of rescue, but not wanting to discourage it, either. No use both of them being in despair. She had the feeling that Operations had probably already written her team off, and had ordered Michael to abandon them here. She was sure she and Brian were on their own, their fate already sealed at Fitzpatrick’s hands.

Brian nodded, his face still hopeful, and then gave the door a determined look. He pressed his shoulder to the solid oak barrier, giving it a valiant shove. Nothing happened. He grunted softly, and then hurled himself against the door again, this time more forcefully. Still nothing. He gathered himself to try again, when Ann’s soft voice stopped him.

"Don’t," she said gently. "Save your strength."

"We’ve got to get out of here, damn it," Brian growled, trying to get hold of his rising sense of panic. The doctor let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hand through his tousled hair, wincing as his fingers met the large lump on the back of his head from where the guard had knocked him unconscious. "Ow!" he yelped in sudden pain, squeezing his eyes shut as another wave of dizziness hit him.

Ann went to him then, and led him carefully back to the cot, and pushed him down on it. Standing in front of him, she gently took his head in her hands and slipped her fingers through the tangle of dark curls, exploring gently. "Let me see," she whispered, probing the wound.

Brian submitted to her examination, too weary to do anything else. Trustingly, he lowered his head to her breast and wrapped his arms around her waist as her fingers caressed the tendrils of dark hair at the nape of his neck. Ann gulped and tried to stay focused on her task, but Brian’s arms around her were a huge distraction.

"It’s not bleeding anymore," she reported breathlessly. "But it’s very swollen…"

Brian lifted his face up to hers, his eyes bright with tenderness, and then pulled her down on the cot to sit beside him. "It already feels better," he said with a sudden smile, leaning close. "Because it was you who touched me…." He whispered, then leaned in the last few inches until his lips met hers. The kiss was gentle, almost reverent, definitely shy. Tentatively, his lips explored hers, using no force; it was a tender caress, demanding nothing in return.

Ann stayed very still, not responding. As the kiss went on, she became more and more tense, until she was sitting rigid and strained, her lips stiff, locked tight against his.

Slowly, Brian withdrew, moving his mouth away. His eyes searched her stricken face with compassionate concern. "You okay?" he asked intently.

Ann turned her head away, obviously upset. "Fine," she choked out. "I’m fine."

It was Brian’s turn to look stricken. "Ann," he apologized softly. "I’m sorry. I was only… I wasn’t trying to.. I didn’t expect you to…" he stammered to a halt, uncertain and confused.

Ann blushed red, and stared uncomfortably down at her hands in her lap. "I know," she whispered, voice quivering. "It’s okay….." she choked out, but Brian knew despite this assurance, she was even more upset than before.

Brian blinked, stunned for a moment, then he inched closer to her on the cot, and dared to reach out a hand to stroke back the silky hair from her cheek. He sensed instinctively that what had distressed her had nothing to do with their captivity and imminent death, but with him, with Brian himself.

What had he done?

"Ann, I wasn’t lying before, I wasn’t toying with you…" he confirmed gently. "I meant what I said to you , and to Fitzpatrick…" he whispered urgently. "I love you. I care about you…" He let out a soft sigh, and wriggled closer. Ann still sat rigidly in her spot, not looking at him. "I know I’ve only known you less than a week, and that you probably don’t think that’s long enough to be sure of my feelings, but I swear, the moment I saw you, my heart was completely lost, and the feeling has been getting stronger ever since…"

Ann trembled beside him, still saying nothing, and Brian lowered his hand to take her fingers in his, squeezing them reassuringly. "This isn’t about proximity, or being thrown together, or being in danger together…." He went on, trying to explain. "It’s not about simple physical attraction either, although I admit you are very beautiful, very desirable to me…" he said, caressing her hand tenderly. "It’s hard to explain, but I know it’s so much more than that. It’s something much deeper…"

He raised her hand slowly to his lips, and then kissed her fingers. Her hand remained stiff and unmoving in his. Worried, wondering what he had done to offend or frighten her, he groped for words to explain further.

"I know this sounds strange, " he entreated softly, "but somehow, when I met you, it was like I knew we were fated to be together. We’re linked, with some unbreakable bond. It’s as if our destinies are entwined somehow…"

At these last words, Ann’s control broke, and she pulled her hand violently from his, and burst into sobs. "No, Brian, no…" she moaned, rocking in her seat and keening out in deep visceral pain. "Oh, no…"

She leapt from the cot, and ran blindly toward the door, only to come up short when she reached it, realizing it offered no means of escape. She turned and looked in wild-eyed desperation around the room, like a hunted animal seeking a way out.

Brian, alarmed at her distress, crossed the room to her and instinctively took her in his embrace. Ann struggled at first when his arms came around her, but then she collapsed against him, subsiding into broken sobbing against his chest, clinging to him for comfort. Brian rocked her, still not understanding her pain, but desperate to do anything to ease it.

"Ann, please…" Brian begged, stroking her back, and murmuring into her hair as she cried bitterly against his shoulder. "Tell me what I did to hurt you- Tell me why you don’t ….want me…" His voice broke on a sob of pain, knowing with sudden certainty that another rejection, another love lost, would kill him. His soul would die inside, right here, right now, even before Fitzpatrick’s bullets could kill his body. He realized then just how much Ann’s love meant to him- everything, exactly everything…

His words did not comfort her, but brought a scream to her throat. With a ragged cry, she shoved her hands against Brian’s broad chest and broke free from his embrace, staggering back against the cold stone wall, and pressing her back against it. She held her hands up as if to ward off a blow.

"Don’t…. she gasped raggedly. "Don’t love me…." He voice broke into sobs again. "Don’t want me….."

Brian flinched, and then felt all the air whoosh out of his lungs as the sting of these words left him literally breathless. His heart pierced, his mouth dry, he croaked out his soul’s dying words.

"Why?" he gasped, tears running down his cheeks, his face tormented. "Why can’t I love you?" he begged.

Ann crumpled to her knees, and then buried her face in her hands. "Because I don’t deserve it," she sobbed brokenly. "Because I hurt you, I ruined your life….."

She lifted her head from her hands and met Brian’s eyes. She shuddered, her tears subsiding, her voice forlorn and hopeless as she confessed the rest. "You wouldn’t want me, you wouldn’t love me, if you knew the truth….." she stated in despair, shaking her head. "You’d hate me, despise me…" she whispered, trembling, "If you knew what I’d done…."

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

"Josephine?"

"Yup," the husky female voice answered quickly. She always felt a thrill of warmth when Michael said her code name, even when she knew it meant she was being called in for a mission.

There was a short pause, then the rich French voice continued, in a way she hadn’t expected.

"Ni-ki-ta," Michael whispered breathlessly. "Ni-ki-ta, I need you…"

Nikita sat up in her seat, her eyes wide, all her senses instantly on alert. "I’m here," she assured him quickly, then her voice took on a worried tone. "Are you hurt, Michael?" she asked in alarm. "Are you all right?"

"I’m fine," he answered softly, then swallowed hard. "It’s…. Brian."

The voice on the other end of the line gasped loudly. "Brian?" Nikita choked out in disbelief, sounding confused. "Isn’t he back at Section, in Medlab?"

Michael closed his eyes, and sighed. "No. Operations ordered him out into the field with us, as medical support," he explained quickly. "The mission failed-" Nikita heard Michael’s sharp intake of breath before he went on. "We think Brian’s been captured, along with the team leader…"

"Oh, my God…." the blonde operative gasped, then quickly recovered, focusing on the mission. "What do you need, Michael?" she said quietly. "What can I do?"

She heard Michael expel a soft sigh of relief. "There’s only four of us here," he told her. "We need back up." He paused, holding his breath, then asked a tense question. "Are you still in Belgium with your surveillance team?"

Nikita grinned, and looked around at the faces of the two dozen fellow operatives seated around her in the transport plane they were riding in. "In the air now, on our way back," she told him gleefully. "Just give me your location, and we’re there…"

Michael smiled, and Nikita could hear it through the phone. "Ni-ki-ta," he warned her softly. "Uh.. We’re in mandatory refusal…"

His blonde soul-mate instantly understood. "Not a problem," she answered. "Operations stays out of the loop…"

Michael sighed again, and then told her the location, and some directions on how they should approach.

"Got it," Nikita responded warmly. "On our way." *Darling Michael* she added in her thoughts, but did not speak the words aloud.

"Ni-ki-ta," Michael whispered gratefully, not saying the words *My Beloved* but thinking them in his heart, "Thank you."

"You’re welcome, Michael," she whispered back, then broke the connection. She looked up at the plane-load of angel troops watching her expectantly and gave the order.

"Get ready," she told them with a grin. "We’re going in."

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

Brian stared at Ann in shock for a long moment, his hurt suddenly turning to frustration, and, he realized to himself, to anger. The stubbornness that was so much a part of him, a weakness and a strength, asserted itself. When he really wanted something, really believed in something, there was no stopping him. And right now, Brian really wanted an explanation from Ann.

His touch still gentle, but now with an underlying firmness that was not there before, Brian stepped up to his beloved, and took her by the arms, pulling her against him. Still sobbing, Ann turned her head away. Brian cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her face up to look into her eyes. "Tell me," he said tensely, the words not a plea but an order. "Tell me what you think you’ve done to me that’s so God damn unforgivable?"

Ann trembled, and sobbed harder. "I…planned the profile…." she choked out, her eyes closed, squeezing out fresh tears. "It was all my fault…."

"Jesus…" Brian breathed softly, then gathered her in his arms, pulling her head down on his shoulder. He let out a soft laugh. "Don’t be so silly, Love," he reassured her in a relieved voice. "You aren’t responsible for what happened…"

He held her away from him, and then caressed the long strands of hair gently back from her face. "You’re certainly not to blame for me being here on the mission in the first place," he went on gently, his fears receding now that he understood why she was upset. "Look, I was the one who insisted on coming along on this little field trip, remember? And if it’s anyone’s fault I’m here now in this mess, it’s mine, not yours…"

He gave a self deprecating laugh, and then reached to wipe the tears from her eyes with his thumb, his hand gently grazing her skin. She shivered, and closed her eyes.

"I acted like an idiot," Brian went on. "You ordered me to stay put, and I didn’t…."

Ann shook her head. "No, Brian, you don’t understand," she sobbed. "What I did-- it hurt you…"

"Shhhh," he interrupted her. "How can you say that?" He pulled her closer again, his voice warm and almost happy. "You’ve spent the whole time since I’ve met you trying to protect me, looking out for me…." He leaned down to move his lips close to hers, murmuring against her mouth, "You’ve done nothing but make me happy…" he whispered. "Make me glad to be alive…"

He pressed closer, pulling her into a soft kiss. Ann moaned against his lips, and forced her head away, pulling out of his embrace. She backed away from him and stood, chest heaving, with tears streaming down her face. "Brian, please," she sobbed, her voice strained with utter misery. "I’m trying to tell you," she choked out. "*I* profiled the mission. It was MY fault. It was my fault that you’ve been suffered so much pain this past year…" she shuddered. "I haven’t made you happy, Brian," she stated forlornly. "I’ve made you unhappy, I’ve made your life hell, for a very long time…."

Brian blinked at her, confused. "What are you talking about?" he asked, bewildered. "You only met me a few days ago, and the mission only went out just this morning," he told her, totally puzzled. "How the hell could anything that happened to me before that be YOUR fault?"

She swallowed hard, and wiped her tears, taking a shaky breath, trying to get control of her voice enough to tell him the rest. "Brian," she said tremulously, looking deep into his puzzled blue eyes. "I’m not talking about THIS mission, this mission today," she corrected him in a quavering, but determined voice. "I’m talking about the mission a year ago…" Her face contorted into a grimace of pure pain.

"I did it…" she confessed. "I profiled the mission. The one for Bauer, the one with you and Nikita and Michael…."

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

Brian froze, standing dazed and speechless. At first Ann’s words hadn’t registered at all, they were just sounds meaningless to his ears, carrying no impact. But then the shock wave of meaning and recognition hit him, making him stagger back to collapse on the cot, his legs suddenly too weak to hold him.

"Bauer?" he gasped, still not comprehending. "M-Michael?" His hand went to cover his eyes, as the memories played back for him inside his head. Being called into Madeleine’s office, with Michael and Nikita there. Being told he had been selected to sleep with both of them, because a green-listed terrorist slime named Bauer had demanded it….

"No…" Brian choked out, shaking his head. He raised his eyes to Ann, who stood exactly where he had left her, against the stone wall, watching him, her eyes wide with horror and guilt.

"You didn’t plan it," the young doctor protested. "You couldn’t have…" He shook his head again. "It was Madeleine. MADELEINE," he said emphatically, letting out a shaky sigh. "She’s the only one sick and twisted enough to have come up with that idea…"

Ann closed her eyes, and turned her head away. "Yes, it was her idea," she agreed tensely, her whole body stiff , her lips feeling almost too rigid to get out the words. "But I.. I helped her with it…."

Brian blinked, disbelieving, and shook his head. "Helped her HOW?" he asked, still stunned. "That bitch doesn’t need any help coming up with sick scenarios. How could she possibly need any help from you?" he pleaded, totally bewildered.

Ann turned back to look at him then, struggling to explain. "When Madeleine was planning the mission, I was the only profiler available then," she whispered, the words coming out in a soft rush. "The senior ones were busy elsewhere….."

Brian’s face crumpled into a mask of pain, his mouth contorting to one side. "Please," he begged roughly. "Please tell me you had nothing to do with it, Ann…." He moaned. "Please.."

The beautiful angel paled visibly, and felt herself trembling. She leaned against the wall, palms pressed flat to the cold stone for support. "I didn’t come up with the idea, no," she went on in a hoarse whisper. "Bauer had done that. He wanted to punish Michael and Nikita by using them, humiliating them, sexually…"

Brian took in a sharp breath, but was silent, as Ann went on. "But Madeleine modified the plan, demanding that Bauer not be able to… screw them himself, but insisting that Section would provide a substitute…"

Brian let out a harsh groan interrupting her. "A substitute RAPIST," he sobbed. "Me…."

No, Brian…." Ann cried, going to him then. She sat down beside him on the narrow cot, taking his hand in hers. "You’re not a rapist," she gasped out. "That’s the last thing you are…." Ann placed her hand comfortingly on Brian’s shoulder. "You’re the most considerate, kindest, gentlest, most loving person in Section," she told him breathlessly. "That’s why you ended up on the mission. That’s why I picked you…"

Brian flinched back, his head coming up sharply to meet her eyes. "Picked … me?" he gasped. "What do you mean, you picked me?"

Ann flinched, and moved back away from him on the cot, but whether her withdrawal was from Brian’s pain, or her own, he couldn’t tell. She twisted her hands in her lap, and went on in a quiet voice. "Madeleine had the profile set, she just needed the right operative to plug in," she explained huskily. "She asked me to find the person that would be the most.. suitable, and I.. I came up with you…."

She lifted her eyes pleadingly to Brian’s astonished face. His lips were parted to speak, but no sound came out. Then he swallowed hard and managed to croak out an anguished response. "Why?" he gasped softly. "Why me?"

Ann’s breath hitched in her lungs, and she bit her lip hard to stifle the sob that rose in her throat. Eyes liquid with tears, she took in a deep breath and went on. "I…. cared about Michael," she confessed breathlessly. "I-I was in love with him," she said, blushing and lowering her eyes. "I never approached him, or let him know, but I did care.." Ann sighed. "I didn’t want him to be hurt, to be…. raped…." She choked out. "And I didn’t want Nikita to be hurt, either…"

She lifted pleading eyes to his, begging for understanding. "Madeleine had me choose from the roster of Section personnel. I went through the lists, but the choices were limited… " She shook her head. "Most of the operatives were too brutal, too hardened, to treat either Michael or Nikita with respect, and then there was the problem of them not being experienced in… uh..."

Brian grimaced, and turned his head away. "No one was QUEER enough, you mean…" he interrupted curtly.

Ann’s look softened and she moved closer, daring to stroke her hand down his cheek. "No, that’s not what I mean," she said gently. Brian blinked at her, and held his breath as she went on.

"There were plenty of people who had had brief affairs, or homosexual encounters in prison," Ann continued softly. "There were even quite a few bi-sexuals besides you to choose from. That’s not what made you unique. It was something else…."

"What?" Brian whispered, trying not to cry again. This whole rehashing of one of the most painful times in his life was pure torture for him.

Ann stroked his cheek again, even more tenderly than before. "I read in your file about your lover, John, how you stood by him, through everything…."

Brian let out a loud gasp. "You knew about John?" he choked out. He had anticipated telling Ann about John someday, when their relationship had progressed further, but he was stunned to know she knew about it already, and in detail.

She nodded. "The more I read your file, the more I knew that you were the right one for Michael- caring, considerate, sweet…" She let out a breathy sigh. "You see, I had my own agenda on this mission, apart from Bauer’s or Madeleine’s," she explained quietly, a sudden calm coming over her. She knew she had to tell him the rest, had to tell him everything.

"For me, it wasn’t about who had the right sexual experiences," she whispered. "It was who had the right background to… love….."

Brian’s breath snagged in his lungs, and he stared at her, feeling naked, totally vulnerable. She had looked into his files, researched him, analyzed him, dissected him, like some guinea pig in a laboratory. "You… planned it?" he choked out. "You wanted me to fall in love with Michael?"

"No… Yes… I don’t know…." Ann replied with an anguished moan. She lowered her eyes to her lap again, unable to face him. "I told you. I was thinking of Michael. I didn’t want him to be hurt. I wanted him to be cared for, to be loved, and the more I read your file, the more convinced I was that you were the only one in Section who could do that…."

She lifted her head then, and gazed into Brian’s pain filled eyes, her own just as tormented. "So I gave Madeleine your name, and you ended up on the mission." She let out a shaky sigh. "But that was just the beginning. I didn’t plan on you being hurt, Brian, but you were. For a long time afterwards…."

Brian closed his eyes, turning his head away. He remembered the fallout from the mission. His unrequited love for Michael. Jilly’s rejection of him. Being branded a faggot, laughed at behind his back, and in Operation’s case, to his face….

"That mission was only the beginning of your suffering," Ann went on when Brian said nothing. "I kept on watching you, the whole year, keeping track of how you were, of how hard things were for you, because of what I’d done…."

"So you feel guilty, is that it?" Brian choked out, standing up from the cot and striding across the room to face the door, his back to her. "You felt… pity….."

He let out a harsh laugh, and Ann cringed to see how vulnerable he looked as his shoulders shook with emotion. "Is that why you were so nice to me, then?" he said in a rough whisper. "Is that why you told me you… loved me?"

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

Ann let out a low moan, and buried her face in her hands. She didn’t know how to tell him the rest, how to convince him that the words she had spoken just a short time ago to Fitzpatrick were true- She did love Brian. She loved him with all her heart.

"Brian…" she sobbed, tormented that she had added to his pain. "Pity has nothing to do with it. Neither does guilt, although I have plenty of that in my heart, believe me…"

He turned to look at her, his arms crossed across his chest protectively as if shielding his heart from more pain. "Then why did you say it?" he asked in a tense whisper, his lower lip trembling. "Why did you tell me you loved me?"

There was a tense pause as Ann met Brian’s hurt blue eyes, and she struggled for the courage to answer. All at once, the words came flooding out, nothing held back, just an outpouring of everything in her heart. "Because I do. I do love you, Brian," she pleaded. "Totally, utterly, more than anything in this world. I have adored you for over a year…"

Brian stiffened, his jaw tightening visibly. "I thought you said you loved Michael," he said uncertainly, still wary and untrusting.

Ann flushed, and then lowered her eyes. "I did," she said in a small voice. "And at the time I was profiling the mission, that’s all I thought about- how to help him…" She gave a short, mirthless laugh. "I guess I got caught up in my research too much, because the more I read your file, the more I learned about you, the more I… got to know you, I found myself thinking less and less about Michael, and my feelings for him, and more and more about you…"

Brian let out a small whimper of hope, or surprise, but then fell silent.

Ann went breathlessly on, eager to explain. "I realized you were someone I admired, someone genuine and deep, someone I wanted to be with- someone I could.. love…" She shook her head, as if amazed at her own foolishness, her own blindness, in not seeing him before. "Before I knew it, I wasn’t thinking about Michael at all, only you…"

"I fell in love with you then, Brian," she confessed softly. "And I’ve loved you ever since.."

Brian bit his lip uncertainly, and took a small tentative step toward her. "If you felt that way about me, why didn’t you let me know?" he asked with a soft gasp. "Why didn’t you ever say anything?"

Ann shook her head, closing her eyes tight. "I …couldn’t," she choked out. "By the time I figured out my feelings, the mission was over, and you were already emotionally attached to Michael." She turned her head away again, unable to look at him. "And then you met Jilly, and you were very serious about her.." Ann shifted uncomfortably on the hard cot. "I felt I didn’t have the right to present myself to you, to interfere in your life…" she said with sincere humility.

Brian let out a huge sigh, his shoulders relaxing, as if all the tension in him was released with that long breath. He crossed the room to her, and sat down beside her on the narrow bed. "Jilly and I broke up months ago," he said gently. "There hasn’t been anyone since. Why haven’t you approach me since then?"

Ann tensed, nervous at his nearness, and sat twisting her hands in her lap, still not meeting his eyes. "I told you. I didn’t deserve to be with you, not after what I did….."

She felt his fingers under her chin then, lifting her face up to meet his eyes. She gasped in shock to see the small, but unmistakable smile on his face. "Ann," he said gently, "I’m a grown man. I’m not as fragile as you seem to think I am…" His fingers moved upward to brush her cheek in a soft caress. "You’re not responsible for every bump and bruise, every heart-ache I’ve experienced since then…"

Her eyes widened, and her heart beat wildly fast in her breast, fluttering with sudden hope. She held her breath.

"You thought I couldn’t handle the truth, but you were wrong," Brian went on, still caressing her cheek, his eyes soft on hers. "I don’t blame you for what happened to me on the mission," he said with another small smile. "In fact, I should be grateful to you for it, because now Michael and I are as close as brothers, and I cherish that…."

"Oh, Brian…" Ann sobbed in relief, slumping toward him, and resting her head on his shoulder. "Can you really forgive me?" she choked out, holding him tight and crying into his collar.

She felt and heard the soft rumble in his chest, as a spontaneous bubble of laughter grew inside him. "Yes, my Love yes…" he murmured against her hair. "Oh yes.."

Ann gasped, and then felt the laughter of her own bubbling up, demanding to be released. She lifted her head from his shoulder, and tilted it back to look into his eyes, her lips parted in mirth, and a deep joy. Brian’s eyes met hers, full of promise, and a fierce joy that burned as bright as hers.

In the next moment, when his lips came down to claim hers, Ann released all her guilt, all her fear and shame, and there was no room in heart any longer for anything but love, love for Brian. As she gave herself over to the enchantment of his kiss, she knew she was a wanderer on the outskirts of love no longer, but had come home at last.

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

The kiss transported them both to a place neither had been, a place above their squalid prison cell, above Section, above their past, above their pain. It was as if the losses, the loneliness, the separation, had never been, dissolving in this new union of soul with soul. Mouth melded to mouth, heart to heart. Lips dancing against each other, tongues twining, each shared one breath, one life, one soul.

Ann fell back on the cot, and Brian followed, the two clinging to each other, tasting each other for the first time. Brian’s hands slipped under Ann’s shoulders, and he cradled her gently against him as he hungrily drank in her sweetness. Ann reveled in the feel of his body against hers, savoring the warm, strong length of him surrounding her, his smell, the feel of his rough stubble on her cheek…