The meeting was set for 10:30, and Sloan Parker is more than fifteen minutes late.

The Limo Lady looks about her with undisguised impatience. The woods are silent, the road in front of her empty. Behind her sits her limousine, engine idling, her driver waiting patiently. He's accustomed to late-night meetings, and has never shown a hint of curiosity or of discomfort at the things he's been asked to do, which is why she's kept him with her as long as she has.

The temptation to pace, to do *something*, fills her, but she suppresses it ruthlessly. She hasn't reached the level of power she now has by giving way to emotion, or to any weakness that could be used as leverage against her.

But her very presence here could be the weakness that destroys her and all that she has worked for. She knows that, and the discomfort that it causes her is almost a physical pain. She stands to lose everything if her superiors find out what she is about to do.

She has no choice, though. The memory of Tom Daniels keeps her in place, his voice calling through the echoing halls of the Pentagon basement, the knowledge of what he's been reduced to, and the complete ruthlessness of the man who put him there has shaken her confidence to the core. It's not that she feels any particular compassion for Tom .... he chose his own fate when he sided with Walter Attwood and the idea of peaceful coexistence with the dominants. It's the knowledge that she, too, could become as expendable as Tom that keeps her waiting for Sloan Parker.

Finally, a pair of headlights shines in the distance, and a dark compact car comes up the road and eases into place a short distance from the limousine. The passenger car door opens, and Sloan Parker steps out, glancing briefly back at another figure behind the wheel of the car.

They meet at a middle distance between the two cars, each silently surveying the other.

"You're late," the Limo Lady says uncompromisingly, determined to set the tone of the meeting. Nodding slightly at the man waiting behind the wheel of Sloan's car, she adds, "I thought we agreed to meet alone."

"You agreed," Sloan says evenly. "I didn't."

Her face appears strained in the headlights, her clothes rumpled and her hair curling even more wildly than usual. But her eyes are clear, and she seems quietly determined to stand her ground.

"We've actually been here for some time, just behind that bend," she continues. "We wanted to see if you'd come alone, or whether you'd bring company with you."

The Limo Lady raises her eyebrow sardonically. "You don't trust me, Dr. Parker?"

"Should I?"

"I would think you'd be more willing to, since I'm the only hope you have of finding Tom Daniels, and getting him back."

Sloan meets the Limo Lady's gaze steadily. "How can I be sure that you even know where he is?" she asks.

"I know. As you've probably guessed, it was my superiors who took him, and who took Walter from the hospital. I know where they're being kept, and I know how to get to them."

"You've seen Tom?" Sloan asks warily.

"No." The Limo Lady brushes the question aside, her intent to get to the heart of the meeting clear. "Not personally. But I've been to the site where he's being held, I've talked to the men holding him, and I know how to get into the place and out of it. My question to you is how interested are you in getting him out?"

Sloan hesitates, searching the Limo Lady's face curiously. "My question to you is why? Why are you telling me this?"

"My reasons are my own," the Limo Lady says shortly. "Let's just say that I've decided that it's in my best interests for Tom to be returned to you, and for my superiors to be stopped. Now, are you interested?"

"What would you want in return?" Sloan counters.

Looking at the scientist before her intently, the Limo Lady decides to take the gamble that could very well save her life. She's underestimated Sloan Parker, that much is evident. She had assumed that Sloan, like Walter, could be handled, that Tom Daniels was her strength and that without him she'd be what she had always been .... a scientist intent on her work and naïve to the realities of the world around her. But the woman standing before her has shown a determination that surprises her, and a lack of emotion that, frankly, is proving to be a problem.

"I've had time to reconsider," she says at the end of a long pause, choosing each word carefully. "I no longer agree with my superiors' goals and their belief that peace won't work. Walter and Tom were on the right track in the negotiations, and I'm convinced that there are people in our government who agree. People who would be in a position to stop my superiors, with my help."

"And you would expect to be rewarded for that help," Sloan says, choosing her words with just as much care.

"Yes. So, are you interested, Dr. Parker?"

Now it's Sloan's turn to hesitate, to assess the woman standing before her.

"I want proof first that Tom is alive. And I want Walter released."

"What kind of proof?" the Limo Lady counters, her eyes narrowing. "A blood sample," Sloan says, her voice gaining strength. "We need to know what's in Tom's blood, what could have been added to Ed's drug to cause the kind of reaction it did. The sooner we find out, the sooner we can search for an antidote."

"Impossible. Security in the building is air tight. No one gets in without a pass, and there are cameras everywhere. What you're asking can't be done."

"It can if you want to badly enough," Sloan counters. "I want the blood sample, and I want Walter back. If you're really serious about helping us, you'll get it done."

And with that, she leaves, returning to the small car nearby and the waiting man. Leaving the Limo Lady behind to wonder just when it was that she lost control of the life she had planned out so carefully.



The drive back to Sloan's apartment begins in silence, Ray Peterson giving Sloan the time she needs to gather her thoughts.

Finally, teasingly, he says, "I'm impressed, Dr. Parker. You've turned into one cool customer."

Turning to face him, Sloan lets out a shaky breath. "You heard everything?"

Tapping the earplug still wedged in his left ear and pointing toward the wire he taped just two hours earlier to her chest, he nods and grins at her. "Every word. You held your own, and I'll bet she's still trying to figure out just what happened."

Smoothing her hands nervously over her legs as she sits beside him, Sloan shakes her head in disbelief. "I can't believe I did that. That I stood up to her. My legs were shaking so badly I didn't think they'd hold me up long enough to get through it."

"Just how *did* you do it?" Ray asks curiously, knowing how much Sloan's cool act must have cost her, especially when the Limo Lady talked so casually about Tom Daniels.

Sloan gazes out the window blindly, her mind still back at the meeting and feverishly going over what had happened and what might come of it. "I thought of Tom, and how he would handle it. And I just did what I had to. It's his only hope."

"Do you think she'll go for it?" Ray asks speculatively.

"I think she will." Sloan turns to face him again, giving him a tremulous smile. "She wouldn't have met with me in the first place if she wasn't ready to deal. Something must have happened to make her change sides, and for some reason she sees us as her way out."

Her gaze sobers and she looks at Ray searchingly. "I just hope it's in time. And that she can pull it off."



They have finally reduced the load of drugs they're giving him to the point that the insanity that had him in its grip so powerfully has eased. The violent thoughts are gone, the conviction that he had to kill Attwood or be killed.

What's left seems just as much a struggle to cope with. A deadening of his mind to the point of paralysis, leaving him helpless to resist when they come into his cage for the latest of their tests, probing, taking away vial after vial of his blood.

He catches snatches of conversation, the words of lab technicians who seem to regard him as much a piece of furniture as the cage itself. Very little of it makes sense .... his mind is back, but has trouble grasping even the simplest of concepts.

But he's aware of a sense of anticipation. There are more people now in the lab next to the cavernous room where his cage sits, some in white lab coats and others in dark business suits, all conferring with a sense of hushed expectancy. They glance his way curiously and then back at the papers before them, listening to what appears to be the man in charge. A table has been set up next to his cage, and on it lies a series of small vials and syringes. What he's feared since first waking to find himself naked in a cage is about to happen. Just like the monkeys in Sloan's lab, he's about to become part of an experiment.

Dredging up as much of his trained stocisim as he can in his drugged state, he prepares himself for what's ahead. And thinks of Sloan. That she will somehow find him, and set him free. She did it when his mother had him trapped in the cellar, facing unimaginable odds. And she'll do it this time, he has to trust in that.

Tom turns his head to watch as one of the lab technicians fills the syringe, and another unlocks his cage. In the last moment before they reach for him, he summons up the sight of her face the last time he saw her, standing in her doorway, still flushed with love. Sloan. She's the one thought that he's managed to hang on to all this time, and she's what will keep him going in the hours to come.



It's late when Sloan finally returns, wearily, to her apartment. Things had gone from bad to worse when she and Ray returned from their late-night meeting with the Limo Lady. She had returned to find that the lab's doors had been sealed shut and that she and Ed no longer had access to the files and research inside. With their work shut down and Walter still missing, there are now just the three of them left, planning strategy and waiting for the Limo Lady to call.

She's managed to stay strong through it all, but dreads walking back through that door where she and Tom had stood in each other's arms just three days ago, happy and at peace. His absence from her life is a constant ache, and it's at times like this, when she's alone, that she feels it most painfully.

The apartment is dark, except for the light from a small lamp in her bedroom. As she enters, she doesn't see the two dark shapes waiting for her in the corner, has no sense of them until she turns around and one moves forward, his steps hesitant.

Tom. For a second her heart stops, and she thinks that it's all been some terrible dream .... that he's waiting for her as he has so often in the past. But even as her lips shape the sound of his name, she knows she's wrong. For Tom is gone, and the figure standing before her is not a man, but a boy.

"Shane?" she falters, laying down her coat and purse, and trying to collect her thoughts. "What are you doing here?"

"I didn't mean to scare you, Dr. Parker," he says tentatively, moving toward her, his face earnest and worried. "I heard about what happened to Tom, and I had to come. I thought I might be able to help."

Turning, he gestures behind him to the second waiting figure. "*We* thought we might be able to help," he corrects himself.

Sloan reaches to turn on the lights, and gasps as she recognizes the man walking toward her.

Marcus Adams.

As one of the leaders of the dominants' peace faction, he had been a driving force in the talks with Walter and Tom. He had also been the one to lead the dominants in their walkout after the Limo Lady's denunication of Walter and her announcement that she would take over the talks. He's an older man, with an upright bearing, handsome features, and a presence that makes him seem larger than life here in her apartment.

"Dr. Parker," he nods gravely. "Forgive the intrusion, but it's important that we talk."

Sloan nods in return and gestures them to the chairs before the fireplace, her mind numbly trying to grasp this latest turn of events.

Once he's seated, Marcus leans forward, the intensity in his eyes reminding her strongly of Tom.

"Dr. Parker, I'll be honest with you. We have grave doubts about you and your work. We see your laboratory's gene therapy experiment as a betrayal of everything we tried to achieve in the peace talks.

"But we have become aware of something that makes Tom Daniels' survival imperative to our species. He must be recovered, if there is to be any hope of averting the war that's coming, and Shane has convinced us that you may be our best hope of getting him back."

"Why?" Sloan asks in bewilderment. "What could Tom have that is so important to you?"

"It's not what he has," Marcus corrects her. "It's what he *is*.

"Dr. Parker, there are people in my species who are chosen at a very young age to be our future leaders. Each one bears a mark to signify his or her importance in life, a mark known only to those closest to them and to a few people in the highest levels of our society.

"I've just learned that Tom bears such a mark on his back. Tom Daniels was meant to lead us someday .... and his presence on our side, the side that wants peace with humans, would be invaluable."

"I don't understand." She shakes her head in confusion. "Tom's shown us the tattoo, but he doesn't seem to know what significance it has."

"He may not," he explains. "As a chameleon he would have been kept in the dark about many aspects of our society, in case he were ever captured and questioned. Or he may have known and chosen not to speak."

Sloan slowly sinks down into the large chair across from the two dominants, trying to take in the enormity of what Marcus is telling her.

"If he's so important to your species," she says slowly, "why wasn't anything said during the peace talks?"

"We weren't told," Marcus says simply. "Our species is careful with its secrets .... we've had to be to get as far as we have. Only the top few knew of Tom's destiny, and once he had defected it was an embarrassment to them to lose someone so important.

"It was only later, after he attacked Attwood and was taken away, that someone contacted me to let me know just who he is. And what he could mean to the peace movement."

Rising to pace restlessly before her, Marcus shakes his head. "If we'd known, we wouldn't have walked away from the talks so quickly. We would have stayed, asked questions, demanded to know just what his condition was."

"And now?" Sloan asks.

"We're here to offer our help." He pauses, looking at her closely. "Shane came to us and told us of your relationship with Tom. How you've helped him .... protected him. How he trusts you.

"We had been ready to search for Tom on our own, but Shane convinced us to talk to you first, to see what information you might have, and to propose that we work together to rescue him."

Before she can respond, the phone rings, sharply breaking into the tension in the room. Her eyes still on Marcus's face, Sloan answers. And stiffens as she hears Ed's excited voice, giving her the first good news she's had since Tom's disappearance.

Walter has shown up on Ed's doorstep, a vial of Tom's blood in his hand.

The Limo Lady has kept her end of the bargain.



The last of the group have left the lab for the day, their experiments completed, the results tabulated by the lab technicians.

All that's left is the crumpled figure in the cage, and the man standing next to it. The head of the secret faction. His gaze dispassionate, he watches as Tom slowly regains consciousness, his chest heaving for breath, his eyes still glassy from the effects of the drugs they've given him.

Gradually, he focuses on the man watching him, and they assess each other quietly. "Why?" Tom finally asks, breaking the silence, his voice hoarse. "Why are you doing this?"

The man before him quirks an eyebrow. "Why, Mr. Daniels?" he echoes sardonically. "Because of who you are. You're a mystery to us .... a Homo Dominant who feels as well as thinks .... and we don't like mysteries."

Tom slowly pulls himself up to a sitting position, and sags against the bars behind him. "What do you hope to find with these tests?" he asks haltingly. "Why not just kill me?"

"You're more valuable to us alive," the man says simply. "You're an example of what will happen to members of your species who think that peace is possible. Just the knowledge that you're here, like this, should be enough to sway even the most foolhardy from future attempts at coexistence."

Glancing at the table that still sits next to the cage, its top now littered with papers, empty vials and used syringes, he shrugs slightly. "As for the tests, you're a fascinating subject of study. What makes you different from others of your species? How can we use your differences to our advantage? And how far can you be pushed before those differences are erased, and you're brought to the most basic level of your species? Violent, single-minded .... a killer."

Tom strains to concentrate on the man's soft words, but the paralysis of thought that kept him in place before is seeping back, and each word is an effort. "Aren't you afraid you'll go too far and kill me anyway?" he asks.

The man smiles, a slight movement that never reaches his eyes. "My people know what they're doing, Mr. Daniels," he says steadily. "They know how far to push, and when to stop. Don't worry. You have a long future ahead of you, here, with us."

The conversation at an end, he leaves as quietly as he came.

Tom closes his eyes, and sags down against the floor of the cage. He's made it through the day, keeping the thought of Sloan before him as a talisman. And he'll make it through the next one, and the one after that.

But as he lets the numbing blackness wash over him, he whispers, "Come soon."



When she opens her apartment door to let Walter and Ed in, Sloan's face freezes for a just a moment, and in spite of herself her lips quirk.

Walter, normally an unruffled dapper man, looks far from his usual neat self. His short hair stands up in tufts, and both it and his rumpled clothes look decidedly singed.

"Walter?" she says in welcome, trying to keep the amusement from her voice. Hugging him in relief, she wrinkles her nose at the pungent smell that hangs about him like a cloud.

"Sloan," he says a bit stiffly, returning her embrace and walking into the apartment gingerly. Ed follows behind, exchanging speaking looks with Sloan.

"I was going to ask how your boss managed to get you out," she says gravely. "But now I think I'm afraid to."

Walter Attwood strains at his collar slightly, trying without success to straighten his clothes. "Don't," he says briefly, shaking his head at the memory of the last three hours. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

"Come on, Walter," Ed urges with a grin. "Tell her how your boss had her men set off a bomb in the building where you were being held, and then had them drag you out the window and over the rooftop."

Walter winces at Ed's words, and shakes his head. "I'll give her this," he admits. "She's smart. There won't be anything to trace back to her .... the accelerant they used to blow the building was apparently the kind that we know only the dominants have access to. My captors will assume I was kidnapped by them in retaliation for our gene therapy work."

"What happens now?" Sloan asks with concern. "Won't they be looking for you?"

"I'll have to stay out of sight for a while, but I have enough contacts in the government to straighten things out. And once Ed finds out what went wrong with the shot he gave Tom, we'll all be in the clear."

"It's definitely tampering of some kind," Ed interrupts. "I've been over everything, and it's the only thing that makes sense. Someone wanted that drug test to fail. Once we get a look at Tom's blood sample, we'll know more."

"My contact says this was taken earlier today." Walter reaches into his jacket pocket for the carefully-wrapped sample.

"She has a man in place in the lab where they have Tom, and he's passed along disturbing news," he says heavily. "They've been running experiments on him, and we're not sure what's going to show up in his blood."

Sloan's face pales at the thought.

"The question is, where can we run the tests?" Ed says, shaking his head ruefully. "The lab's been shut down."

"Maybe I can help."

Ed and Walter turn in surprise to see Marcus and Shane in the doorway of Sloan's bedroom. The two had stepped behind the alcove doors before Sloan answered the door, but now walk slowly back into the living room.

Sloan hastens to explain. "They've come to offer their help in rescuing Tom."

"Walter," Marcus says, nodding politely and coming forward to shake Attwood's hand. "I'm relieved to see you're well." Turning to Ed, he nods stiffly. "Dr. Tate."

Ed quirks an inquiring eyebrow at Sloan, curious at the chill in Marcus's tone, but she shakes her head quickly. Explanations will have to come later, when they're alone.

"We have a laboratory some distance away that is staffed by people sympathetic to our cause," Marcus says, turning back to Walter. "You can analyze the blood sample there."

Nodding his acceptance of the offer, Walter turns back to Sloan and takes her hand, a move so unaccustomed that she instantly tenses. "Sloan, the men who helped me escape had a message for you. They told me to warn you that the people holding Tom have no compunction about what they'll do to him.

"They won't kill him," he hastens to add, seeing the distress on her face. "He's too valuable for that. But they'll push him as far as they can. We have to get him out, the sooner the better."

Sloan takes a steadying breath and turns to Marcus. "We have someone on the inside who can provide us with information on where he is. What we need from you is a plan to get him out, and the men to do it."

"You'll have it," he said. And reaches out his hand to her to seal their agreement. However uneasy it might be, they've made a bargain with each other to free Tom Daniels.



The Limo Lady stays seated as a young uniformed man hastens into the office, his very appearance a sign of problems. The head of the secret faction rarely tolerates interruptions.

Her boss listens to the young man's whispered message, nods abruptly, and sends him on his way, a rare flash of impatience crossing his face.

Without comment, he resumes their interrupted conversation. "Everything went according to plan?"

"Yes," the Limo Lady says. "Attwood is out and presumably in touch with Tate and Parker."

"And he suspects nothing?"

The Limo Lady permits herself a small smile. "Walter believes I got him out, and so will Dr. Parker."

"Good. Attwood's contacts in the government were asking too many questions. Holding him any longer would have looked suspicious."

"What happens now?" the Limo Lady asks.

"We move up our plans," he says, reaching for the phone at his side. "I've just been informed that a congressional oversight committee will be touring the Pentagon tomorrow. The last thing we need is some aide wandering away from the tour and into our section. No matter how tight our security is, something might go wrong. Daniels will have to be transferred tonight."

"Where to?"

"Our facility in Northwood. There our security will be complete, with no chance of discovery."

"When?"

"Midnight. Have your men in place .... we may need them to help with the transfer."

He nods curtly to indicate her dismissal, and the Limo Lady leaves, her mind racing.

She has played one side against the other up until now. Her boss believes her loyal, although she doubts he trusts anyone completely. And Walter's team believes she's ready to deal. If she plans her next move carefully, she'll land on her feet no matter what the outcome.



Ed, Sloan and Walter exchange uneasy glances as the van they're riding in speeds toward the dominants' lab. The van's blacked-out windows and Marcus's insistence that they ask no questions has left them on edge.

"We'll work with you to get Tom out," he says firmly, sitting across from them with Shane at his side. "But don't expect us to trust you with any more than we have to at this point. We went into the peace talks with an open mind, but the news of your gene therapy experiment changed all that."

"When we began the experiment, we believed it was the only option open to us," Walter says quietly. "We'd been confronted time after time with evidence that your species planned to wipe us out. The tick, Copeland's plan to release the Spanish flu, nanites designed to destroy our children's immune systems, a breeding program using human women to create more dominant children .... Peace didn't seem possible, and we needed to stop reacting and start taking action."

"I'm not excusing what members of my species have done," Marcus responds. "But creating your own weapons of destruction isn't the solution. We dealt with you in good faith, believing you to be committed to peaceful coexistence. A drug that would make us human is just another way of wiping out who we are .... that's not coexistence, that's war."

"But Tom was willing to take the drug," Sloan interrupts.

"And why was that, Dr. Parker?" Marcus's turns his eyes to hers. "To willingly help you bring his own species under your control? Or for personal reasons?"

Coloring, she falls silent.

"Tom's reasons are his own," he adds. "I may not agree with them, but I respect his right to have them. But I learned enough about him during the talks to know that he wants cooperation, not war, and not domination of one side by the other."

As the van slows to a stop, Marcus eyes the three of them warningly.

"Please respect our need for security at his point. No questions, no wandering off on your own. We're taking a great risk allowing you here. Don't make us regret it."

And with that he ushers them out into the darkness of the night, and the waiting building.



The news, when it comes, is both good and bad.

"It's definitely Tom's blood, " Ed confirms, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "I matched it to the DNA sample we had on file."

"You were smart to get what evidence you could out of the lab before they closed it down," Walter comments, slumping down in a chair nearby. They're gathered in a small lab that Marcus has had set aside for them, and Ed has been hard at work since their arrival. Dawn is just breaking, and none of them have had much sleep in the last three days.

"Yeah, well, the sight of all those security guys at the lab made me nervous, so I downloaded as much information as I could to disk before they locked everything up."

"So your boss was telling us the truth," Sloan says slowly turning to Attwood. "She can get to Tom."

"Or at least her man can," Walter nods thoughtfully. "The question is, what do we have to trade for the information?"

"Your contacts in the government", Sloan replies promptly. "She's afraid she's on the wrong side, and wants you to vouch for her if and when things fall apart."

"There's more," Ed says hesitantly. "Her man was right .... Tom's blood sample shows the presence of several powerful drugs, including one that could have brought on the psychosis he exhibited in the lab three days ago. I'd say from the little I've seen that they're doing everything they can to push him back into his most primal state .... why, I don't know."

"Perhaps for the same reason Tom has raised so many questions among our own leaders," Marcus interjects, coming into the room and overhearing the last of the conversation.

"He could be as much a curiosity to those holding him as he is to us. They may want to see what made Tom embrace his emotions, and how that affects his abilities as a soldier. To drive him to a point where either his emotions break down, or take over."

The sound of her cell phone ringing makes Sloan jump, and she darts a worried glance at Walter as she digs it out of her purse.

"Sloan Parker," she answers, and her face tenses at the sound of the voice on the other end. It's the Limo Lady, with information on Tom's whereabouts and a demand to speak to Attwood.

Handing the phone to him, Sloan moves back to stand beside Ed, her eyes trained on Walter's face. His side of the conversation is brief, and in the end he agrees to her terms.

Putting down the phone, he turns to Marcus.

"They've been holding Tom in a basement in the Pentagon since his capture, but are planning on transferring him to a more secure facility at midnight tonight. My contact suggests that the best time to grab him is during the transfer. Can you have your men ready in time?"

"Yes," Marcus responds. "We can have a plane ready to go in minutes. Give me the details and we can set up a plan of attack." "I want to go with you," Sloan blurts out, stepping forward.

"Sloan," Ed says warningly.

Walter reaches out to stop her with a hand on her arm. "Sloan, you're a scientist, not a soldier," he says gently. "Let Marcus and his men do their job."

"But we don't know what kind of shape Tom's in," she protests. "He might need someone there that he knows and trusts."

"Dr. Parker, it's going to be risky enough getting Tom away from his guards," Marcus points out. "Your presence would add an element of danger we can't afford."

"I won't get in the way," she says urgently. "I'll stay on the plane. Please .... I need to be there."

Marcus hesitates, looking at her face and sensing her desperation.

"I'll come too," Ed offers. "From the look of it he could to be in pretty bad shape when you find him. You'll need a doctor on hand. And I can keep an eye on Sloan, to make sure she stays safe."

"All right," Marcus agrees finally. "But you stay on the plane. We'll bring Tom to you."

Sloan nods her head in relief, and watches as Marcus and Walter hurry out the door to plan the rescue mission that she hopes will bring Tom back to her.



There's an air of hushed expectacy on the flight from L.A. to Washington as the hours tick by and everyone contemplates the enormity of what they're about to do.

The Limo Lady has given Walter detailed directions on the route the transport is to take, and he and Marcus are huddled over a map of the area, discussing the best place for an ambush in low voices. Grouped around them are a number of the men Marcus has brought with him to carry out the mission, while others are gathered at the back of the plane, checking and rechecking their equipment.

Ed is checking his own equipment as well, sorting through the stock of medical supplies he's brought with him and hoping fervently that he'll have no need for them.

Sloan sits apart from the swirl of activity, staring out the window beside her. Since boarding the plane, she's been in a world of her own, and both Walter and Ed have kept an eye on her, exchanging worried glances.

"Dr. Parker?"

Sloan looks up distractedly to find Shane standing beside her, his face creased with concern. She realizes with a start that she hadn't even noticed his presence on the plane .... from the moment they'd arrived she'd focused on Tom, concentrating as though that would somehow make the plane go faster.

"Is it okay if I sit with you for a while?" he asks

diffidently, and she suddenly realizes how hard this flight must be for him as well. Nodding, she clears the space next to her, and watches him settle into his seat.

"I didn't realize Marcus had let you come," she confesses, and he casts a shy grin her way.

"He didn't want to," he admits. "But I kind of badgered him into it. He's as concerned as you are about what Tom will be like when we find him .... whether he'll even know who we are. So he agreed to let me ride along with them and be there if Tom needs to see a familiar face."

"But .... " Sloan protests involuntarily, hurt that Shane will be allowed to go along when she won't.

Shane looks at her apologetically, and shrugs his shoulders. "You have to understand, Dr. Parker. He took a big risk trying to make a deal for peace, and finding out about Dr. Tate's experiment really hit him hard. He doesn't trust you."

Sloan nods, conceding Shane's point. "How do you know him?" she asks curiously.

"He worked with my father when I was growing up. He used to come to our house sometimes." Shane pauses, a shadow crossing his face. "Later, when I knew that I couldn't do the things that were expected of me, I went to him for help. Things he'd said made me think that he was different, that he didn't agree with some of the things we'd all been raised to believe."

"And he sent you to her," Sloan says slowly, remembering what Tom had told her about Shane's involvement with the Limo Lady.

"Yeah. He didn't trust her all that much. But he couldn't take me in himself .... it was too dangerous. He thought she could offer me a way out."

"But it didn't work out that way."

"No. No matter how much information I gave her, she always wanted more. I don't think she meant to help me get out at all."

"And that's when you met Tom."

At the mention of Tom's name, Shane stills, the memory of what's happened and why they're all here flooding back.

"He really means a lot to you, doesn't he?" she asks softly.

Shane darts a look her way, his face wistful. "He checks up on me," he says quietly. "Makes sure I'm okay. He takes the time to talk to me and help me understand what it is I'm feeling."

Sloan smiles reminiscently. It wasn't long ago that she'd been the one helping Tom cope with his newly-emerging emotions.

"Leaving everything behind was hard," he says sadly. "But knowing Tom makes it a little easier. Seeing that he's built a new life for himself, with you. It makes me think that I can have the same thing some day."

He hesitates a moment, searching for the right words.

"Tom really cares about you," he finally says, looking at her earnestly. "I asked him once why he didn't leave, go someplace safe where they couldn't find him. And he said that it was because he had a reason to stay. You."

He shakes his head in wonder. "You don't know what that means. The way we're raised, there are no choices. You do what you're told. The people you meet are the ones you'll train with, and work with. There's no such thing as close friendships, or love."

Impulsively, Sloan reaches out and takes his hand in hers. She's realized suddenly that of all the people on the plane intent on Tom's rescue, this boy is the one person who knows how she feels .... who shares her love for Tom.

"We'll get him back," she says fiercely, squeezing his hand.

"Sloan?"

Startled, she looks up to find Walter crouching down before her, his gaze on her intent. "We'll be landing soon. Marcus and his men have everything planned, and want to leave right away to make all the arrangements."

"What about you?" she asks, still holding onto Shane's hand and feeling him squeeze hers in turn.

"I'll stay here with you and Ed." Turning to Shane, he nods encouragingly. "Marcus wants you to get ready to leave with them. And he wants to talk to you first, to let you know what will happen."

Shane rises to leave, casting one last quick smile back at Sloan. And lets Walter take his place on the seat beside Sloan.

"It will work, won't it, Walter?" she says, watching the boy walk quickly toward the group of waiting men.

"They know what they're doing, Sloan," he says reassuringly, his hand on her arm. "If anyone can get Tom back, it's them."

"I hope so," she says, turning back to the window to stare out at the passing landscape. She can feel her heart quicken in anticipation, and hope, and thinks of Tom.

"Hold on," she thinks, willing him to hear her. "Just a little while longer."



Tom lifts his head suddenly, something jarring him out of the dazed sleep he's been in since the end of a second day of experiments.

"Sloan?" he whispers.

He could have sworn he heard her voice, and looks around him searchingly. But all he sees are the bars of the cage, and the blackness surrounding the one thin light shining down on him.

He shakes his head in an effort to clear his mind. It's getting harder and harder to focus his thoughts and marshal the resources he needs to resist the worst effects of the drugs they're giving him. He needs to, though. To be ready for whatever comes.

And something is happening, he can sense it.

Equipment is being stripped from the lab in the next room, and papers loaded in boxes. He's lost track of time, but it seems that with the end of the day's experiments the lab should be almost deserted and yet there are men everywhere.

"Mr. Daniels."

The voice beside him startles him, and makes him realize how weak he's become .... that a human could come up next to him undetected.

Tom turns his head to look at the man standing there. The one from before in the dark suit.

Tom has watched him move silently in the background during the last three days, seen everyone defer to him and back away slightly as he passes by. His sense of him is uncertain, weakened not only by the drugs but by the man's almost impenetrable calm. But he can pick up a thread of arrogance, an almost blind conviction the man has in himself and in the power he wields.

"We'll be moving you tonight to your new home," the man says conversationally. "To a facility where we can study you more thoroughly, and without interruption."

Inclining his head toward a group of men gathering nearby, he adds, "We've taken every precaution to make the transfer a smooth one."

One of the scientists from the lab approaches the cage, syringe in hand, and prepares to unlock the cage in order to sedate Tom for the trip.

"Wait."

He stops abruptly at the sound of the steady voice, and turns to face his superior.

"How will this affect the drugs in his system?" the man asks carefully.

The scientist hesitates. "It's not something we planned for when we set up the protocol for the experiments," he admits. "It could skew the results somewhat, at least in the short term."

"Then leave it. I don't want the tests disrupted."

Tom's tormentor looks back at him dispassionately. "Besides, from the look of him I don't think a sedative will be necessary."

Tom returns his gaze impassively, but inside he suppresses a surge of triumph. The man's confidence that Tom is now his creature, at his mercy, has finally led him to miscalculate.

Tom will be conscious during the transfer -- the logical place for a rescue, if there is to be one -- and he'll be ready for whatever happens.



When they come for him, Tom finds to his shock that his plans to seem even weaker than he is aren't necessary. He has difficulty standing, and needs the support of the men on either side to make his way from the cage to a waiting van just outside the doors of the building he's been held in.

By the time they reach the van, he's felt some small measure of strength returning to his legs but is careful not to show it. The more helpless he seems, the more relaxed they might become.

The rough jumpsuit they've given him to wear seems strange against his skin after three days of nakedness, and he finds as he emerges into the night that his eyes have trouble adjusting to the outside lights, despite the blackness of the night.

As he's roughly bundled into the van he spots two dark cars waiting on either side, men with earpieces and drawn guns manning both. And then he's inside, and being strapped down to a stretcher, his arms pinned to his sides, restraints crossing his chest and waist. One man climbs in the back to sit beside him, two more take their place in the front seats, a driver and a guard.

Despite the drugs and the weariness, Tom's years of training have clicked into place. He finds himself taking stock of his surroundings, weighing the odds of when an ambush might happen, and the possibilities he has for action himself.

Aware that he's being watched by the man stationed next to him, he closes his eyes and lets his head sag weakly to one side.

Because of the lateness of the hour, the roads appear to be clear. The van picks up speed quickly and races through the darkened city streets, heading, Tom guesses for an isolated compound somewhere in the surrounding countryside. Any rescue attempts won't come until they're outside the city limits, and so he deliberately relaxes his tense body, trying to store up what little strength he has for when it's needed most.



The ambush, when it happens, takes place on a long curving stretch of road. Marcus's men, concealed behind trees on either side and wearing night goggles, open fire with split second timing as the convoy passes by. The first team takes aim on the lead car, the second on the van, and the third, stationed slightly further down the road, draw their guns on the car following behind. All three teams have the advantage of complete surprise, firing rapidly and instantly hitting their targets. The attack is carried out so quickly that none of those caught in the barrage of gunfire have time to radio for help or warn of the impending disaster.

Both the driver and front guard in Tom's van are hit, glass shattering with the impact of bullets as the driver's foot jams on the brake and the van comes to a screeching halt. Tom's stretcher is thrown against the wall with the sudden stop, and the man guarding him is tossed to the floor.

Tensing his body, Tom braces for the moment he can act, and finds it as the guard leaps to his feet and turns, crouched, to head for the rear doors of the van, his gun raised and ready. Tom lashes his right foot out weakly to catch the man in the small of his back, just enough to knock him off balance, his gun discharging as he falls forward and comes up hard against the doors. The sound of gunfire from inside the van spurs Marcus's men on in their headlong race to the vehicle. Shane, watching from the safety of the trees, feels his heart stop and shoots a panicked look at Marcus before they both leap onto the roadway.

The rescue team move to take up positions around the van, two men on either side of the side door, guns raised, and more stationed close by, ready to fire once the door is opened. On a count of three they move, and the guard inside is cut down before he's able to fire off a single round.

The night suddenly falls silent, the echoes of the last of the gunshots fading away. The lead car of the convoy has crashed into a gulley on the side of the road and tilts crazily to one side, its back wheels still spinning. The van sits where it stopped, pointed sideways on the road, its engine still running. And the backup car has disappeared from sight, having careened off the road and into a stand of bushes before coming to rest against a tree.

By the time Marcus and Shane reach the van their men already have Tom unbuckled from his stretcher, and are helping him step down to the ground, a man on each side propping him up. Tom is pale and sweating. He'd used up the last of his strength in tripping the guard, and now has trouble keeping his balance.

He lifts his head to look searchingly at Marcus, and then spots Shane standing just behind him. His brow clearing, he smiles faintly and asks, "Sloan?"

"She's waiting for you back at the plane," Shane says, breaking out in a relieved grin.

Tom nods and holds his hand out to Marcus. "Thank you," he says simply.

"I'm just glad you're in one piece," Marcus says, taking Tom's hand in his. Glancing around him, he adds, "We'd better clean this up before anyone comes along."

Directing his men to begin the operation of removing both the vehicles and the bodies inside, he moves forward to prop Tom up on one side and Shane moves to the other. "We'll get you back to the plane. From the look of it, you could use some medical attention."

The two slow their steps to match Tom's faltering ones as they cross the road to a waiting truck that one of the rescue team has driven out of the woods and up onto the road. Once there, Tom pauses to lean against the side of the vehicle and catch his breath. Shane waits by his side patiently, while Marcus moves to the driver's side.

Tom quirks a small smile at Shane. "It's good to see you," he says breathlessly.

"It's good to be seen," Shane says, smiling back. "We were worried about you."

"We?" Tom asks, his face softening.

Still smiling, he looks up to survey the scene in front of him. Marcus has planned well. Soon nothing will remain of the ambush .... the two cars are already being pushed back onto the road, to be towed away and disposed of without a trace along with the contents inside, and Tom watches as two of Marcus's men head toward the van.

A glint of light on the driver's side of the van catches Tom's eye .... moonlight glancing off the barrel of a gun pointing straight at them.

At Shane, who has shifted slightly and now stands directly in the line of fire.

There's no time for a warning. Instead, Tom lurches forward to push Shane aside, tumbling to the ground with him as the sound of gunfire breaks out. A single shot from the van, followed by a volley from the dominants close by.

"Tom?" Shane says uncertainly, caught off guard by the tackle and now pinned to the ground by Tom's fallen body.

"Tom!" he says more urgently. Tom hasn't made a sound since the soft grunt he gave as the two of them fell.

Marcus's men rush to their side, Marcus himself close behind, and gently pull Tom off the boy, turning him over on his back to check for injuries. As soon as they do, the reason for Tom's silence becomes clear. Blood blossoms across the left front shoulder of Tom's jumpsuit, spreading rapidly as his chest rises and falls.

The two team members react swiftly to try to contain the flow, while Marcus runs back to the truck to grab the emergency medical kit they'd stowed there. They have to stabilize Tom and quickly. Medical help is waiting for them on the plane, if only they can reach it in time.

Shane leans close by Tom's head, clutching his hand as the two men work over him. And is near enough to see Tom's eyes flutter open at one point, and see his lips move.

"Shane?" The voice is thready, broken by gasps for air.

"Yes?" Shane leans closer still, trying to hear Tom's voice over the shouted instructions above them and the rushed movements to get him ready for transport and remove the van from the scene.

"Sloan," Tom says on a breath. "Tell her .... "

His eyes close again, and the pace of his breathing worsens.

"I will," Shane promises, whispering into Tom's ear. "I will."

Before he can do more, he's pulled to his feet by Marcus, and the men quickly lift and load Tom's body onto the waiting truck. They can't wait for the others to return. They have to move now.

Tires squealing, they speed off into the night. Leaving behind a stretch of deserted road that was the scene of violent death just moments ago, and now lies unmarked, as though none of it had happened.



The strident ring of Walter's cell phone breaks into the uneasy silence on the waiting plane.

Its three occupants gave up any attempts at conversation more than an hour ago, and each is occupied with their own thoughts.

Ed paces the aisle nervously, torn between watching Sloan and glancing over at the medical equipment that he's set up in a corner. Walter sits at Sloan's side, his face grave. Sloan keeps her gaze fixed out the window on the tarmac below, watching for the arrival of Marcus's men and, she prays, Tom.

Pulling out his cell phone, Walter answers in a hushed tone, and listens for a few seconds in silence, his face creasing with concern. "We'll be ready," he finally says, and breaks the connection.

Taking a deep breath, he turns to Sloan and takes her hand in his.

"They got him," he says, watching her closely. "But he was shot before they could get him out of there. It could be bad, in the left shoulder near the chest."

She pales visibly, her hand clutching Walter's.

"They did some work on him at the scene, put pressure on the wound and strapped him up, and they're racing here as quickly as they can."

Looking up at Ed, he adds, "I think you should be prepared to operate."

Ed's jaw drops. "Operate? Walter, I've got enough here to treat Tom for all the drugs he's got pumped into his system, but I don't have the kind of equipment I need to operate! And besides, I haven't practiced real medicine since my residency days!"

"The supplies will be no problem," Walter says heavily. Glancing apologetically at Sloan, he explains, "Marcus and I anticipated that something like this might happen. We've got enough blood on board and surgical tools for you to operate safely."

"But .... " Ed begins desperately.

"Ed, from the sound of it, we don't have a choice," Walter says pointedly. "Come on, help me set things up. They'll be here soon, and we need to be ready."



The sight of Tom's face when Marcus and his men carry him on board stops Sloan in her tracks. Chalky-white, his hair damply plastered to his head, his eyes are closed and he seems lifeless.

He's whisked past her before she can move, the men carrying him to the back of the plane where Walter and Ed have set up a makeshift operating table.

Sloan watches, her fingers pressed to her lips, as Tom is transferred to the table. Ed moves in to quickly cut off Tom's bloodstained jumpsuit and checks for the entry and exit wound of the bullet, while across from him one of Marcus's men takes Tom's vital signs.

Looking up at Walter, Ed shakes his head grimly. "The bullet's still in there, and lodged close to the lung. It's got to come out, and I'll need help to do it."

"I'll help," Sloan says hoarsely, stepping forward to stand at Tom's feet. She's as pale as Tom at this point, her eyes large and shadowed and fixed on Tom's face.

"No, Sloan," Ed says, shaking his head firmly. "No. You're too close to this."

"He's right, Dr. Parker," Marcus intervenes. "I've got two men here who are experienced med techs. They can give Dr. Tate all the help he needs."

Gesturing, he urges the two men forward to help, and takes Sloan's arm. "You can't do anything for him here," he says, not unkindly. "But there is someone you can help."

He nods back to the front of the plane where Shane stands motionless, his clothes covered in blood -- Tom's blood -- and his expression stark. "Tom saved Shane's life by pushing him out of the way of that bullet," Marcus explains. "It was a brave thing to do, but I'm not sure Shane sees it that way right now."

Sloan looks back at the boy, and then at Tom, her fear for him apparent to everyone there. "I need a minute with him, Ed," she says beseechingly.

Nodding sympathetically, he backs away, turning to the two med techs to explain what he'll need from them in the next few hours.

Moving up to stand by Tom's side, Sloan takes his hand gently and smooths back his damp hair. "Tom?" she says softly, leaning close. "It's me. Sloan."

Placing her face next to his, she lowers her voice to a whisper. "You listen to me, Tom Daniels. You once told me you'd never leave me." Her voice breaks on the last word, but she sets her jaw and continues, squeezing his hand. "I'm holding you to that."

Touching her forehead to his, she falls silent for a moment and then quirks her lips in a sad, intimate smile. "After all, I've got a lot of really bad jokes left to tell you."

"Sloan?" Ed stands close behind her, shifting uncomfortably. "We need to get started."

Her eyes still on Tom's face, she nods quietly. And leans close to kiss his unresponsive lips. "I love you," she whispers. "Come back to me."

Then, rising and turning to Ed, she gives him a hug and a shaky smile. "You take care of him," she warns, giving his shoulders a little shake for emphasis.

"I will," he responds solemnly.

Backing away, Sloan finally turns to leave the rear area of the plane, her eyes looking ahead at Shane. He's still standing motionless in the middle of the aisle, his eyes fixed on Tom.

Walking up to him, she puts a hand on his shoulder. "Shane?" He tenses, and his eyes dart to hers. "Shane," she says gently, "we need to get you cleaned up."

He follows her gaze down to the bloodstains on his sweater and hands, and then looks at her again, his eyes full of anguish. "He saved my life," he says, his voice rusty with emotion. "It would have been me, but he pushed me out of the way."

"I know," she says gently. "Marcus told me."

His knees suddenly buckle and she grabs his arms to support him, moving him over to a seat nearby and sitting down beside him.

"Will he be all right?" he asks, his eyes focused on the back of the plane where Ed and the two men working with him make last-minute preparations for the emergency surgery they're about to perform.

"He has to be," she vows, taking his hand in hers and gripping it tightly.

"He spoke to me after it happened," Shane says suddenly, switching his gaze to hers. "He asked me to tell you something."

Sloan's eyes fill with tears. "He did?" she asks huskily.

Nodding intently, he squeezes her hand. "He said, 'Tell her I love her.'"

Sloan catches her breath on a sob, her eyes brilliant. "Thank you," she says shakily.

The two of them stare at each other steadily for a moment and then turn their eyes back to the still figure lying on a stretcher at the other end of the plane, and to the three men working over him.



The news comes when the Limo Lady is in his office.

He listens to the phone call silently, a tightening of his lips the only sign of his displeasure. Then, carefully, he hangs up, and transfers his gaze back to her.

"It went well?" she asks steadily.

"No." A wealth of meaning in the word, a sign to her of just how great his anger is at the news. She finds herself tensing.

"It seems that the convoy was intercepted before it could arrive at Northwood," he says expressionlessly. "At least, that's what appears to have happened."

She raises an eyebrow in inquiry.

Rising, he begins to walk slowly around the office, circling behind her. "In point of fact, the convoy seems to have disappeared. Vanished, without a trace."

He stops, and studies her.

"And Tom Daniels with it."

Resisting the urge to turn and face him, she keeps her voice even. "I assume men have been sent out to trace their route?"

More silence, and then the measured pacing resumes.

"Yes." He completes the circle he has begun, arriving back at his desk and watching her out of hooded eyes. "You don't seem surprised at the news."

She allows herself an expression of concern. "I anticipated a problem, but hoped our security would be enough to prevent it."

Pausing deliberately, she looks up at him. "It could be we have a leak. Someone who passed the information on to Daniels' people."

"It's possible," he concedes, still watching her closely. "Although I find it hard to imagine. Our people are all carefully screened. And only a handful were aware of the route the convoy was to take."

"Everyone has their price," she responds, and rises from her chair. "With the convoy gone, I assume our plans will be put on hold?"

"For the moment." He sits back down behind the desk. "There will be other chances. Daniels will surface, and when he does, we'll get him back."

Nodding his dismissal, he waits with exquisite timing until she reaches the door, her back to him.

"In the meantime," he says gently, "we'll find the source of our .... problem .... and deal with it."

Her hand remains steady as she opens the door and passes through, closing it softly behind her.

The Limo Lady allows herself a moment in the hallway to collect herself. She's gambled her future on Walter Attwood and Tom Daniels, and planted seeds of doubt in her superior's mind that she hopes will divert attention from her.

It's time to step back, and watch events unfold. And trust that her actions will guarantee her future, either way.



The silence in the plane during the emergency surgery is almost complete.

Ed and his two assistants talk in hushed tones as they work to remove the bullet and repair the damage that it created.

Marcus and Walter, sitting side by side near the front of the plane, watch their every move. Both have a vested interest in Tom Daniels .... their very future may depend on his survival. But they've both also come to respect him as a man determined to follow his own beliefs, and are sobered by the possibility of his loss. Sloan paces past them, her arms wrapped around her waist for comfort. She feels torn in two. So much of her wants to be with Tom, to hold his hand and give him some of her strength. But Marcus is right. There's nothing she can do for Tom right now .... his life is in Ed's hands and in his own innate will to survive. And there is someone who needs her help more right now.

She looks back at Shane, who sits hunched over in his seat, his elbows braced on his knees, his head lowered. He has refused to wash Tom's blood off his hands or to change his clothes, and she has acquiesced silently, sensing how important it is to him.

Walking back, she sits down beside him and tentatively puts a hand on his back. "Hey," she says softly, "are you all right?"

His eyes fixed on the floor, he silently shakes his head.

"What, Shane?" she persists, rubbing his back gently. "What is it?"

His voice, when it comes, is muffled. "Why did he do it, Dr. Parker?" he asks almost unaudibly. "Why did he push me out of the way like that?"

"He did it to save your life," she answers, her own voice hushed in response to his.

"But look where it got him," he protests. "It should be me lying there, not him. He's already been through so much, and we'd just got him free."

"Shane," Sloan says slowly, "Tom would never want to see you hurt. He cares about you too much to see that happen."

Finally sitting up to look at her, Shane shakes his head in confusion and denial. "You don't understand, Dr. Parker," he says miserably. "What Tom did -- that's not the way we do things in our world. No individual life is that important. My own father," -- he stumbles, his eyes dropping from hers -- "would say that what Tom did was foolish."

Sloan takes his chin in her hand and gently raises his face to hers. "Shane," she says carefully, "I think that's one of the reasons you've left your family and your people, isn't it? That you don't think the way they do."

Silently praying that she's doing the right thing, she takes his hands in hers and tries to explain. "Has Tom ever told you how we met?" she asks.

Puzzled by the change in subject, he shakes his head silently.

"Tom was sent to kill me," she says simply, feeling the shock of his reaction as his hands clutch hers briefly. "I had discovered the existence of your species, and Tom was sent to stop me and my work."

"What happened?" he asks, his eyes on hers.

"He couldn't do it," she says, the memory making her smile. "He had my life in his hands, and he couldn't do it. He'd already been struggling with his feelings, and was having more and more trouble accepting the orders he was given to kill humans. I was the second person he couldn't kill .... and at that point I think he made the choice that individual life is too precious to destroy, whatever the reason."

Giving his hands a shake, she tries to make him understand. "He made the choice to push you away, to save your life. He didn't have to do it, but he did .... it was more important to him to save your life than to protect his own. Can you understand that?"

His expression uncertain, he shrugs slightly and ducks his head, this time to hide the sheen of tears in his eyes.

"Come here," she says softly, and takes him in her arms. He hesitates at first, uncomfortable with the embrace, but soon finds himself leaning into her, trying to absorb some of her warmth and certainty.

"I know it's confusing," she whispers, her voice sympathetic. "Tom's been learning to deal with his feelings for months now, and he still gets confused. Maybe, once he's well, the two of you can help each other."

Shane closes his eyes, his face against her neck, and hopes fervently that they'll get the chance.



Walter sits to one side and watches the two of them, concern written plain on his face. There's nothing he can do for them, and for the moment they seem to have each other.

What he can do is plan for their immediate future, and for that he turns to Marcus.

"I want to thank you again for the help you've given us," he says earnestly. "Without you we would never have gotten Tom back."

Marcus looks at him steadily, fatigue showing in his eyes. "I did it for my species, not yours," he reminds Walter, his voice still tart with the memory of the conflict between them. But then he relents, rubbing his face tiredly. "I just wish it had gone better."

"You did everything you could," Walter reminds him. "Tom knows that, and so do I."

"It wasn't enough, though, was it?" Marcus asks pointedly. Nodding to the surgery going on in the rear of the plane, he says, "Just one miscalculation was all it took."

"What happened out there?" Walter asks curiously.

"We thought we'd eliminated every man in the convoy in the initial attack." Marcus shakes his head, his mind going back to those moments on the dark country road. "It turns out we were wrong. The driver of the van Tom was in was only wounded, and got a shot off at Tom before we realized it. Shane was in the way, and Tom pushed him aside. He saved his life."

Marcus looks back at Tom, lying still on the makeshift table. "He wasn't in great shape to begin with. Unsteady on his feet. Obviously still drugged, to some extent. A gunshot wound on top of that .... "

The two fall silent for a moment, and then Walter broaches the subject paramount on his mind.

"I'm afraid I need to impose on your generosity again, once we land," he says searchingly. "We need a safe place for Tom to stay, until he recovers. I think it's obvious that the people who took him will want him back, and we don't have the resources to protect him when he's this vulnerable."

Marcus nods. "There's room for him at the lab, and the medical care he'll need. I'll see to it."

"I'm hoping to ensure his safety and ours soon," Walter adds. "I've made a deal with my contact" -- he says the word with distaste -- "that should allow us to reopen our lab and give us some measure of protection. But I'm not willing to risk our lives until I have the leverage I need to guarantee her cooperation."

He glances curiously at Marcus. "You've dealt with her in the past. What's your take on her?"

"Ruthless. Powerful, at least in her own mind." Marcus pauses in thought. "She'll help you, but at a price. The question you have to decide is, is the price worth it?"

The two men share a grim look. "That's the question," Walter says heavily. "*Is* it?"

A movement from the rear of the plane catches their attention, and both lean forward as Ed comes toward them, drying his hands. Sloan, her arms still around Shane, stiffens as she spots his approach, and she and Shane come to their feet, their eyes fixed on Ed's face, their expressions anxious.

"Ed?" Walter asks, his eyes intent.

"Well, he survived the surgery," Ed says, shaking his head in amazement. "I can't say more than that at this point. He's been through a lot in the last few days, and getting shot didn't exactly help."

He turns to look at Sloan. "I'm sorry I can't say more at this point. There's shock, the risk of infection .... We'll just have to wait, and watch to see what happens."

"But he's alive," she says, a light in her eyes.

"He's alive." He nods.

"Then that's enough for now," she says with relief, and throws her arms around Shane in a fierce hug. "He made it," she whispers in his ear, her voice triumphant. "He made it." And smiles as he hugs her back tightly.



In the first moment of waking, he thinks he's in the cage again. His mind is sluggish, his limbs feel weighted down. A mindless fear seizes him for an instant, but then other sensations slowly emerge.

He's in a bed, a soft pillow behind his head and sheets pulled up to cover him. There are no bars surrounding him, only white walls, and he can hear the soft beeping of machines nearby. Turning his head, he sees an array of monitors on either side of him. A hospital. He must be in a hospital somewhere, he thinks hazily.

And then he sees Sloan, asleep in a large chair pulled up against the side of his bed. And the memories flood back. The rescue. Shane. The gun in the window. The sound of her soft voice, coming from far off in the distance, making him keep his promise to never leave her.

Focusing back on Sloan, he watches her sleep. Her eyes are shadowed, and she's sleeping the boneless sleep of exhaustion.

Drinking in the sight of her face, he marvels that she's here with him, and that he's alive. In those frenzied moments on the side of the road, with men working over him to save his life, he'd been afraid that he'd never see her again.

Needing to feel her touch, to make it all real, he finally wakes her.

"Sloan?" he says softly, and watches as the sound of his voice jerks her awake, her eyes flying to his.

"Tom?" She's at his side in a second, reaching out to touch his forehead, his cheek, her eyes bright. "You're awake," she says in relief.

Nodding weakly, he moves to touch her face. And finds that his arm is too heavy to lift. His eyes drift shut for a moment, and then open again to focus on her face.

"Shane?" he asks urgently.

Sitting down on the bed beside him and taking his hand in hers, she nods reassuringly. "He's in the next room, sound asleep. He wanted to stay with you until you were awake, but everything finally caught up with him." She pauses, and smiles softly at him. "He cares about you very much."

He summons up a small smile, and then frowns as more memories return.

"Walter?"

"You remember what happened?" she asks curiously.

"Only flashes .... " he says hesitantly.

"He's all right," she reassures him. "They got you off him in time."

"Good," he murmurs, his eyes closing for a moment, the need for sleep washing over him. But he fights to keep awake, and to be with her a little longer.

There's a soft knock at the door, and a man in white enters, a small tray in his hand. Nodding at Sloan, he moves purposefully to Tom's side and studies first his face and then the monitors at his side. "Mr. Daniels," he says, setting down his tray and reaching for Tom's wrist to feel his pulse. "I'll tell the doctor you're awake."

In spite of himself Tom flinches at the contact. For a second he's back in the cage, hands reaching out for him, needles being plunged into his arm. He fights to keep his expression steady, but knows that both Sloan and the man have seen his reaction.

Exchanging a quick glance with Sloan, the man takes Tom's pulse, and then reaches for the tray. Tom's eyes fall to it, and he finds himself tensing even further. A small cup of pills, a syringe .... he knows enough to trust that he's safe, but still can't stop the memories from flooding back.

Sloan waits until the man leaves, and turns to Tom with a look of concern. "Tom?" she asks hesitantly, "what did they do to you?"

His eyes meet hers and he gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, but he stays silent. Even if he had the strength, he's not ready to talk about it yet.

"Tom .... " she persists, fearful for him.

"I'm all right," he says evenly, and knows the words to be true. He'd lost control of his life to the man in the dark suit for three days -- had been reduced to the level of a lab rat -- and he refused to surrender another minute to him. He'd survived. And he'd made his way back to Sloan.

"I .... heard your voice," he says slowly, as he begins to lose his battle to stay awake. "Telling me .... to hold on."

Her face softens, and she leans forward to cup his cheek with her hand. "I heard yours too, calling me. That's how I knew you were still alive."

"Sloan .... ?" he says, his eyes closing.

"Shh," she whispers, leaning forward to kiss his lips. Feeling them cling to hers for an endless moment. "Go to sleep now."

As she lifts her head from his, his eyes fly open and she sees a flash of concern in them that she might leave. "I'll stay right here beside you," she says soothingly, and his face slowly relaxes in sleep, his hand still holding hers tightly.

Pulling her chair in close with her other hand, she sits down to watch him, her heart full of love.

For three long days, she'd fought for his return. There had been dark moments when she had feared that it would never happen. But it had, and now he's here with her, safe. And she'll be here when he wakes up and begins to deal with the memories of what was done to him.

Leaning forward, she rests her cheek against their clasped hands, and closes her eyes. Finally, she can rest.



Opening the door softly, Ed looks in to find Tom and Sloan sleeping soundly, Tom in his hospital bed, Sloan leaning over the side of the bed, her cheek pillowed on his hand. The monitor at Tom's side shows his heart beating steadily, and Ed breathes a sigh of relief.

Drawing back, he turns to find Marcus standing beside him, watching the sleeping couple silently.

"How is he?" the older man asks.

"He's strong, I'll give him that much," Ed says, shaking his head. "A lot of people wouldn't have survived the trauma of what he's been through the last few days. But he'll live. He was lucky."

Marcus nods. "Evan told me what happened when he went in to check on Tom. That he reacted to his touch, and the sight of the needle."

Ed looks back at Tom. "Yeah, I heard. We can only guess at what they did to him, but I'm betting it wasn't pretty. They may have thought they were running a controlled test, but they would have killed him sooner or later. No one can survive that kind of abuse for long." He darts a look at Marcus. "Not even one of your species."

Marcus looks back at him consideringly. "Did you take that into account, Dr. Tate?" he asks curiously, a note of censure in his voice. "Did you think of what you'd be putting your test subjects through? Or the people who were eventually given your drug?"

Ed turns on him, his patience at an end. "Hey, you're angry about my gene therapy experiment?" he says fiercely. "Well, I'm angry at what you've done to us -- what you're still doing. I didn't start this thing. Your species was the one who declared war. I just decided to help level the playing field."

Marcus gazes at him steadily, sensing the young scientist's turmoil -- grief, anger, suffering, and a small measure of self- doubt -- and is slow to respond. When he does, there is more respect in his voice and an effort to reason rather than accuse.

"But don't you see, Dr. Tate?" he says quietly. "It won't stop there. For every new weapon you come up with, my people will match it and come up with a newer one themselves. Neither side will stop until we've wiped each other out."

Ed shakes his head again, this time in frustration. "Then what's the answer?" he demands.

"Peace, Dr. Tate," Marcus says evenly. "It's the only hope we have. To live together .... not just coexistence but cooperation, and understanding. To see the good in each other, and not to judge each other because of our differences."

Ed turns back to the doorway and the sleeping couple. "Like Sloan. And Tom," he says heavily.

Marcus nods, and turns his gaze their way. "Like Sloan and Tom," he agrees.

"They're our future, Dr. Tate.

"And our only hope."

The End




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