Document Title

This story and all the others that I've written wouldn't be possible
without the help and continued support of Sharon, my writing partner and my
inspiration, and of Marruzella and Pat, my two dedicated and unendingly
patient readers. Pat deserves special mention this time around for sitting
down one weekend and writing out an outline of every plot detail I'd
ever come up with, and every character I'd ever mentioned .... I use it as
my daily guide, and would be lost without it. I'm also truly grateful
to Joy, who generously agreed to step in and be an extra reader this time
around, and to Leslie, who takes time from her hectic life at university
to comment on each of my scenes. And to Diane S. and Anna, a very special
thank you for scenes they had a major hand in constructing. I'd say
more, but I don't want to give anything way at this point .... I'll leave
my comments for them until the end of this episode.

Lastly, this story is for Joan, our tirelessly enthusiastic "Prey" fan
fiction fan and group grandma .... Joan, you didn't have to fall down and
break your arm just to get a "Prey" story out of me, but knowing that you needed
something to read while you recuperated spurred me on. Please mend fast.

"Conspiracies", Part 3
------------------------
By Sue Burke

"Tom?"

Tom Daniels opens his eyes slowly to find Sloan Parker
seated beside him on his hospital bed, a soft smile on her face.

"How's the headache?" she asks softly, touching his cheek with her
fingertips.

Tom winces ruefully. "Worse than the one I had when you electrocuted
me at the lab."

Sloan gives a chuckle, and brushes back his hair with her hand.
"You *have* had a run of bad luck lately, haven't you?"

"Mmm," Tom murmurs, and stretches slowly, opening his eyes
and looking past her at the empty chair by the bed. "Where are the
boys?"

"Down the hall, getting me something to eat." Sloan grins at him.
"They kept hovering, first over you and then over me, until I had to
give them something to do, just to make them feel useful."

Tom smiles back at her, and takes her hand in his. "How are you?"
he asks quietly, taking in the weary look in her eyes and the strain
on her face.

"Happy to have you back in the land of the living," she teases him,
squeezing his hand, but Tom shakes his head, his eyes intent on hers.
"How are you really, Sloan?" he asks quietly.

Sobering, Sloan drops her gaze down to their linked hands.
"Relieved," she sighs. "Still scared .... my knees wobble every
time I stand up."

"Come here," he responds gently, and tugs on her hand until she
rests her head on his chest, her hair tickling his chin.
Sloan closes her eyes and takes a shaky breath, feeling Tom's arm
circle her comfortingly. "I can't lose you, Tom," she says quietly.
"I can't."

"You won't." Tom tightens his hold on her. "Not if I can help it."

"What if you can't?" she counters, her voice muffled against the
blanket covering him. "What if whoever did this keeps trying until
they get it right?"

"We'll catch them before then," Tom responds, his voice low and
soothing. "Our mistake today was in thinking the traitor wouldn't
go after one of us personally." He falls silent, trying to sort through
his scattered memories of the day, but what happened after he went
under hypnosis remains a frustrating blank. "Does Sam have any leads?"

"Actually, he wants to talk to you if you're up to it," Sloan says,
lifting her head to look at him.

"Good." Tom brushes a hand across her cheek and looks at her
with concern. "You look worn out .... why don't you take the boys
outside for some fresh air while Sam's here?"

"I don't want to leave you .... " she begins reluctantly, but Tom gently
presses his fingers to her lips to silence her protests. "I'll be fine,"
he says reassuringly. "Sam will be here with me, and the doctor
is nearby if we need him."

Giving in, she reaches up to take his hand in hers and kiss his fingers.
"Don't wear yourself out," she murmurs. "The doctor said I might get
to take you home tonight depending on how you feel."

"I won't," he promises, and gives her an encouraging smile as she leans
down to gently kiss him on the lips and then climb off the hospital bed.
Giving him one last look, she opens the door to his room and beckons
to Sam, standing just outside in the hallway.

"Don't push him too hard," she warns him, giving him a mock frown, and
Sam nods obediently before slipping past her into the room. "She
worries about you," he observes with a faint smile, pulling the empty
chair up beside Tom's bed.

"She does," Tom says softly, watching through the window of
his room as Sloan makes her way down the hallway and out of sight.
Bringing his gaze back to Sam's, Tom frowns and looks at him
intently. "What's wrong, Sam?"

Sam looks up in the act of sitting down, the smile on his face fading.
"Ed uncovered some .... unexpected information when he searched
the Council files last night."

"About the traitor?"

Sam's expression darkens. "About Marcus."

~*~*~*~

"Sam will take over the questioning of the three other members of
the team who planned Tom's regression therapy session," Marcus
says, leaning back in his chair and staring fixedly at his desktop.
"You'll sit in with him to ask any questions you might have. Once
you finish with them, Sam wants to go over every step of the process
with me, in case I remember something that might be helpful."

"Marcus .... " Walter says hesitantly, taking a seat in the chair
across from Marcus's desk.

"I'll continue to run the movement, at least for the time being,"
Marcus continues without pause. "The liaison team I've set up
with you will remain in place, depending on the results of the
questioning."

"Marcus .... "

"I'd like you to work on a daily basis with Sam until this whole
thing is resolved. It could be you'll be working with him full-time
from now on. He and I haven't settled what will happen afterwards
... " Marcus's voice dies out for a minute, and he lifts his head to gaze
blindly out the window.

"Marcus," Walter says patiently. "You need to talk to someone."

Marcus looks back at him grimly. "There's nothing to talk about, Walter.
I betrayed them, all of them. And you as well. I kept my past and
my motives a secret. I can't expect anyone to understand, or to forgive.
I thought at first that it might be possible, but after talking to
Sam .... " He winces slightly. "Forgiveness won't be an option."

"You'd be surprised," Walter says slowly, and tilts his head in thought.
"How much research did you do into Whitney Labs before you
approached me?"

Marcus hesitates. "Enough to know about your former
boss, and how you broke away from her."

"Did you know that I kept my affiliation with her a secret for more
than two years?" Walter asks. "When Ed and Sloan found out, they
considered it to be a betrayal of every moment that we'd spent together.
I didn't think they'd ever forgive me, but they did, in time."

Marcus's eyes darken. "Lying about your boss is one thing.
Deliberately setting out to destroy a group of people is quite
another. I caused people's deaths, Walter. I passed on their names
knowing that the Council would have them rounded up and killed.
I didn't care how it was done .... I just wanted them out of the way
so that I could complete my mission."

"But you didn't complete your mission, did you?" Walter points out.
"You changed sides once you realized that what you were doing
was wrong."

Marcus drops his gaze back down to the desk. "I did," he agrees.
"But that doesn't erase the damage I did before. Or the damage
that's been done now to Sam, and that will be done to others when
they learn what I was."

"One thing I've learned is that you can't go back and change the
past, Marcus," Walter says reflectively. "All you can do is try to
make up for it by doing good things in the life you have now."

Marcus looks at him curiously. "Where is this coming from, Walter?
Two hours ago you were convinced that I was the traitor. Why the
turnaround?"

"Two hours ago all the evidence pointed to you," Walter admits.
"But then I heard your side of the story, and my opinion changed."

"Why?" Marcus challenges him.

"Because I saw myself in you," Walter says simply. "And I recognized
that in a way you are far less culpable than I ever was, despite your
actions."

"I don't understand," Marcus responds, looking at him in confusion.

"You were trained to do what you did, and if my understanding of
dominants is accurate, you were never given the choice to agree or
disagree with your assignment. I chose to do what I did out of
ambition." Walter looks down, brushing a stray piece of lint from
his pants. "I told myself that it was for the science .... that what
I was doing was getting the resources and backing we needed for the
work we did, but in my most honest moments I knew that wasn't
entirely true." He looks up at Marcus, his brow drawn into a frown.
"I used what my boss had to offer me to further my own goals, and
I put us all at risk as a result. You, on the other hand, did what you
did for the Council, and when you realized you were wrong, you put
your own life at risk to defy them .... a far more noble action than mine."

Marcus winces. "I'm afraid Sam doesn't see it that way."

"You can't expect him to, can you?" Walter counters. "Not yet,
anyway. It took time and work on my part to convince Ed and Sloan
of my sincerity, and it will take the same effort on your part to
convince Sam. But it can be done, Marcus. I don't think you
can afford not to, not if you want to get Sam's respect back."

Marcus looks at him wearily. "What about your people? I
doubt Ed will be as forgiving."

"Ed's young," Walter said, suddenly weary himself. "He's a brilliant
scientist, but he's still just learning that life isn't as black and
white as he'd like it to be. Sloan, on the other hand, has learned
a lot in the past few months .... I believe that she'll understand
and forgive once she's had time to think."

"And Tom? How do you think Tom will react?"

"Tom," Walter says, narrowing his eyes in thought, "has the most
astonishing capacity for understanding of any of us. His biggest
struggle has been to forgive himself for what he did as a chameleon
..... he would be the first to understand what you went through, and
the last to pass judgment on you."

Marcus gives Walter a rueful look. "I could use some understanding
just about now."

"You have it from me," Walter says, "and if you talk to Tom, I think
you'll find you'll have it from him as well." Rising out of his chair, he
holds his hand out to Marcus. "Don't think you're alone in this,
Marcus."

Marcus stands up and, after a moment's hesitation, takes Walter's hand
in his and shakes it gratefully. "Thank you, Walter."

~*~*~*~

"So Marcus joined the peace movement planning to destroy it?"
Tom asks.

Sam rises out of his chair restlessly and begins to pace around
the foot of the bed. "He said he changed sides after about a
year."

"Why?"

"He said he envied us our commitment .... that he wanted to
be a part of such a close-knit group and have the strength of
belief that we did." Sam shook his head derisively. "He
envied me my dedication, he said, and even tried to
get me to change sides at first."

"He obviously admired you," Tom points out. "He still does.
I've seen it in the way he talks to you, and consults you on every
decision he makes."

"And yet he lied to me the whole time," Sam says flatly, pausing to
look at him. "Why couldn't he trust me enough to tell me the truth?"

Tom returns his gaze thoughtfully. "I'd say it was because he was afraid
of losing you."

Sam turns away with a dismissive motion of his hand, and Tom watches
him silently as he resumes his pacing. "You've been in the peace
movement most of your life, haven't you, Sam?" he says finally.

"For as long as I can remember." Sam looks at Tom with
surprise. "Why?"

"From what Marcus has told me, your parents were founding
members who believed in freedom of choice," Tom replies. "He said
that you followed in their footsteps not because they forced you to
but because you believed in what they were doing."

"So?"

"So compare your life to Marcus's," Tom suggests, his gaze
suddenly intent. "Your parents gave you the freedom to think
for yourself, and shape your own life. Marcus didn't have that
luxury .... most of us didn't. He was ordered to infiltrate your group
and betray you in order to ensure our survival, and that's what he
did, Sam. I killed people because that's what I was told to do.
To break away from that way of thinking .... to break away from
that kind of life .... took enormous courage on Marcus's part.
More, I think, than you can ever fully understand."

"But you can?" Sam asks doubtfully, coming to a halt at the foot
of Tom's bed.

"I can because I've been there myself," Tom says painfully. "I know how
hard it must have been for Marcus to break away, and I know how much
guilt he must feel over the things he did."

Sam drops his gaze from Tom's with confusion, staring down at the
blanket covering Tom's legs.

"How much damage did he do in that first year, before he turned?" Tom
asks.

"At least twenty people died because of information he passed on to
the Council," Sam says distantly. "I counted them up on the drive back.
Some were killed outright, others just disappeared."

"How could Marcus expect your forgiveness for that, Sam?" Tom
points out gently.

"So he didn't say anything," Sam says reluctantly.

"He couldn't," Tom says simply.

Sam falls silent, staring out the window at the empty hallway outside.
"I don't know if I can get past this," Sam says quietly. "I can barely
bring myself to look at him, let alone work with him."

"Take it a step at a time," Tom advises him. "Focus on what you have
to do today, and set the rest aside for the moment."

Sam nods wordlessly.

"I'm here any time you want to talk, Sam," Tom says quietly.
"If you think it might help."

"It's helped already," Sam says in a low voice, and looks up to give
Tom a weary smile. "It may not look like it, but it has."

"Good," Tom says softly, and closes his eyes for a moment against the pain
of his headache.

"Sloan warned me not to stay too long," Sam says, observing him with a
frown. "Maybe I should go, and come back when you're more rested."

"I'm all right." Tom opens his eyes and looks at Sam questioningly.
"Have you learned anything more about what happened in the testing
room?"

"It was definitely the computer program that was tampered with, not
the generator. Only four people had access to it .... Marcus and the
three other members of the team who created it. I've got all of them
waiting to be questioned."

Tom drops his gaze to the small burn marks on his wrists, evidence of
the force of the current that shot through the wires into contacts pressed
against his skin during the therapy session. "I understand I have you to
thank for saving my life."

Sam shakes his head. "Don't give me all the credit. Sloan was
beside you as soon as it happened .... she would have saved you
single-handedly if she'd had to."

"She would have," Tom grins, and then sobers as he stares back down
at the burn marks. "Sloan tells me that Martin Donovan and Sarah
Fielding are both on the team."

"They are," Sam agrees, and looks at him consideringly. "What are
your thoughts on them?"

Tom frowns. "Both had the opportunity to plant bugs at
Whitney Labs and here. If one of them is the traitor, they would
have heard enough to realize that we'd been warned that someone inside
the movement was about to betray us, and may have decided
to slow our investigation by taking one of us out."

"That's the way I see it too," Sam says, lifting a hand to rub his neck
wearily. "At least we didn't use Jacob's real name when we talked .... "
His voice trailing off, his eyes grow wide and he stares at Tom in
sudden realization.

"What?" Tom asks uncertainly.

"You said his name," Sam says slowly. "After we asked Ed to search
the Council files and we were standing outside his office, you got a
phone message from Jacob, and you said his name .... his real name."

Tom stares back at Sam and then tips his head back against the
pillow. "I did, didn't I?" he mutters.

"Did you find any bugs when you searched that area of the lab?"
Sam asks tensely.

Tom closes his eyes in concentration, fighting his headache in an
effort to remember his movements the night before. "I found two
there," he said finally, opening his eyes and staring at Sam. "One
behind the electrical outlet on the main counter, and another
behind an outlet near Ed's door. Either one would have picked
up our conversation.

"Tom," Sam says tightly, "we need to warn him."

"Give me your phone," Tom orders him, sitting up in the bed and
holding out his hand.

Sam automatically reaches into his pocket for his cell phone and
hands it over. "What are you going to do?"

"Jacob and I agreed on coded messages each one of us would use if
something went wrong," Tom says, frowning as he punches in a series
of numbers.

"What .... " Sam begins, but Tom holds up his hand and Sam lapses
into silence.

"Yes, I'd like to leave a message for Mr. Armstrong," Tom says,
falling effortlessly into his FBI persona. "This is Mr. Abraham
calling. Tell him that we've had time to review his proposals, and that
my colleagues and I are anxious to get started on the project. We'd
like to schedule a meeting at his earliest convenience. He can contact
me at 555-9365." Tom listens as the message is read back to him,
and nods his head. "Yes, that's fine. Thank you."

Ending the call, he looks up and finds Sam watching him intently.
"David has me leave messages for him with the answering service
he uses as part of his undercover work as a computer analyst," Tom
explains. "The message I just sent warns him he could be in danger,
and asks him to call me as soon as he can."

"What codes will he use?"

"He has two to choose from." Tom lies back against his pillows
with a sigh. "If he's convinced he's still safe, he'll send one signifying
that he's okay and will call soon to set up a meeting. If he's been
captured and is being forced to contact me, he'll send the second one
... on the surface, it signifies that he's okay, but it warns me that he's
being coerced."

"What if he doesn't answer at all?" Sam asks tensely.

Tom's expression darkens. "Then we know they caught him, and that
he resisted and may be dead."

"Wouldn't they make sure to take him alive?" Sam objects. "They'd
want to know everything they could about what he's passed on to you,
and what he's learned from you."

"They would, but David told me last night that he's determined not to
let them question him .... if they do and he breaks, he's afraid he'll tell
them about Laura. He wouldn't be specific, but he told me that he'd do
whatever it took to avoid being taken alive and that he's had a back-up
plan ever since Drew Richards began blackmailing him." Tom looks
troubled. "We just have to hope they haven't heard that tape. It
may be that traitor hasn't had time to listen to all the tapes from
yesterday .... if they're one of the ones you're holding for questioning,
then they won't get to the tapes until at least tonight. Even if they've
already heard them, they may not have had time to pass on what
they've learned. Either way, we may still have time to get Jacob
out before his identity is revealed.

"The other possibility is that they already know, but aren't ready
to move on Jacob yet," Sam says, thinking quickly. "They'd have him
under surveillance, and would follow him to any meeting we set up."

"Put some of your men in place in advance of the meeting," Tom
suggests. "If someone's tailing Jacob, they can take them out and
we can get him safely away."

"What if they already have him in custody and he talks?"

"He can only say so much," Tom says slowly. "He knows
there's a traitor in your organization, but he doesn't know who.
We don't even know ourselves yet. If he breaks under questioning,
he'd tell them about my meetings with him, and maybe even about
Laura and where we're hiding her, but that's about it."

"We have to find out who the traitor is," Sam says intently.
"That's the key to all of this."

"And we don't have much time," Tom says, throwing back his blanket
to climb out of bed.

"What are you doing, Tom?" Sam protests, staring at him with
concern. "You almost died a few hours ago .... you're in no condition
to even be out of bed."

"I've got to be the one to meet with him, Sam," Tom insists, turning
to look for his clothes. "He won't feel comfortable with anyone else."

"Tom .... " Sam says warningly, and then dives forward to grab him
by the shoulders as Tom sways uncertainly, his face going white. "Tom,
you can't even stand up .... how can you expect to make it to a meeting
somewhere?"

Tom lets Sam lower him to the side of the bed, raising a hand to
his head and closing his eyes. "It's just this headache," he mutters,
pressing his hand to his head.

"Tom?" Sloan stands uncertainly in the doorway, her face drawn as
she takes in Tom's ashen complexion, and then she races forward,
brushing past Sam to help Tom lie back on the bed. "What happened?"

"He tried to get out of bed," Sam explains, standing back to give her
room as she tucks an extra pillow under Tom's head, and smoothes the
blanket over his chest.

"You're not supposed to move," she says angrily, staring down at Tom.
"Not until the doctor says it's okay."

"I'll be all right, Sloan," Tom says, his eyes closed tightly against the
pain. "I just got up too quickly."

Sloan looked back over her shoulder at Sam. "Why was he trying to
get out of bed?"

"He was planning on meeting Jacob," Sam says, looking at Tom
with worry. "We've just realized that he may be in danger,
and Tom's sent him a message to get out of the Council offices
and call in."

"He's in no shape to do anything right now," Sloan protests, glaring at
Sam.

"It has to be me," Tom insists. "Sam's got more than he can handle
here, and Jacob knows me."

"He knows me too, Tom," Sam reminds him gently. "He met me at
the safe house that first night, and he's seen me with Laura. He'll trust
me. I'll take the call when he checks in, and I'll be the one to meet
him."

Tom looks up at Sam unwillingly, and then nods his head, admitting
defeat. "Give me a piece of paper and a pen," he asks, and when
Sloan digs a pad and pen out of her purse and hands them to him, he
props himself up on his elbow and swiftly writes down a series of notes.
"These are the code words he'll use, depending on the message he
sends. If you have any problems, check back with me."

"I will," Sam promises, taking the paper from him.

"Take my cell phone from my jacket pocket," Tom instructs him,
looking around the room for his clothing. Sloan ducks behind a
curtain nearby and emerges with Tom's black jacket, pulling his
cell phone out of his pocket and handing it to Sam. "Keep it
with you," he tells him. "When he calls in, he'll be using that
number.

"When you meet him, tell him he needs to get out now," he
adds quietly. "Tell him .... " He falters for a moment. "Tell
him I'm sorry."

Sam reaches forward to touch Tom's arm gently. "Don't worry, Tom
..... I'll make sure he's taken care of."

Tom closes his eyes for a moment, lying back down on the
bed and wincing against the pain of his headache. When he
opens them again, Sam is gone and Sloan is leaning over him,
brushing his hair back gently. "It will be my fault if they catch
him," he tells her somberly. "I didn't realize the lab was bugged
..... I mentioned his real name when I was talking to Sam
yesterday."

"You didn't know," Sloan says soothingly. "Sam will get
to him in time."

"I hope so." Tom looks up at her. "Where are the boys?"

"You keep asking me that," Sloan teases him, and tries to smooth
out the frown lines on his forehead with gentle fingers. "Stop worrying
about everyone else and take care of yourself for a change." Tracing
his brow softly, she explains, "They're with Ed outside. He's upset
over what's happened with Marcus .... he told me what he found in
the Council files .... and he's worried that they won't let him see
Sarah or Martin." She pauses in her ministrations to frown down
at him. "I can't believe that Sam would suspect Sarah, even for a
minute. She's too loyal."

"He has to be thorough, and the evidence does point to someone
on the team," Tom says slowly, closing his eyes and letting his body
relax.

"I guess so," Sloan admits, and moves her fingers gently past the
small burn marks on the sides of Tom's temples. "Anyway, I decided
that the boys would be just the distraction Ed needs .... the last time I
saw them he'd taken his football out of the trunk of his car and was trying
to teach Trevor how to throw a long pass."

Tom smiles briefly, his head tipping sideways against the pillow.
"I want to go home, Sloan," he murmurs. "Today. I'm tired of
hospitals, and tests, and doctors. I just want to be with you
and the boys, at home."

"You will, I promise," she whispers, leaning down to kiss his
cheek. "Soon."

~*~*~*~

"David?"

David Armstrong looks up to see Harris Templeton's aide, Robert
Tilton, standing in the doorway of his office, his hand on the doorknob.

"He needs to see you," Tilton says tersely. "His office in five minutes."

David feels his stomach clench with tension, but he keeps his expression
bland and checks his watch. "I'll be there," he says briefly, and drops
his gaze back down to the papers on his desk until he hears Tilton
move away.

Gripping his pen tightly, David stares at the stack of files on his
desk. His determination to help Tom Daniels hasn't wavered
since their meeting last night, but his confidence that he can carry it off
has. He catches himself tensing each time someone appears at his
office door, and each phone call leaves him on edge. Surrounded by
people who can sense any change not only in his behavior but in his
mood has left him feeling vulnerable, and now he will be meeting with the
second most powerful man on the Council, and one of the most
perceptive.

Shutting his eyes, David begins to mentally prepare himself for the
meeting, willing his fear away and gradually assuming the cool,
efficient manner he always displays at Council meetings. In the
past, he had used it to guard against revealing any of the secrets
Harris had entrusted him with. Now he'll use it to hide his
intentions from Harris himself.

When he reaches the door to Harris's office five minutes later,
his control is firmly in place, and he takes a seat in one of the two
wing chairs facing Harris's desk calmly. Harris sweeps in moments
later without a glance at David, shooting a questioning look instead
at his aide. "Any word yet?"

"No, sir," Tilton says respectfully.

"Keep me informed," Harris says with a dismissive glance, and the aide
leaves soundlessly through the side door to the office.

"David," Harris says, turning his attention to him as he takes his seat
behind his desk. "I have a mission for you."

"Sir?"

"I have an audio tape I need cleaned up." Harris leans forward, his elbows
resting on his desk, his eyes intent on David's. "Or rather, I will have,
once my contact delivers it. I need to know what's being said on that
tape,
David, but there's too much background noise to make that possible at
the moment."

"I'll put my best man on it, sir," David assures him.

"Not this time," Harris says flatly. "You'll do it yourself, with no
witnesses,
and bring the results directly to me."

"Sir, I haven't done that kind of work since my days in the security
unit," David protests. "You'd get better results from Ames or
Thompson."

"No one hears that tape but you, David," Harris stresses. "No one.
Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," David replies.

"Good." Harris leans back in his chair, watching David out of hooded
eyes. "You're aware of the listening devices I requested from your
assistant, and the secure line?"

"Yes, sir."

"They were planted in Marcus Adams' lab and at Whitney Labs."
Harris pauses for a moment, frowning down at his desk. "Through
those listening devices, we've learned that someone on the Council
is leaking information to Tom Daniels."

David's look of shock is genuine. "Do we know who, sir?" he
asks carefully.

"I believe we'll find that out once you've cleaned up the tape. We
suspect that Daniels names his informant in one of the conversations
recorded there, but we can't be sure because of the background
noise. I want you to clean up the tape enough that we can identify
the name and catch the traitor before he does any more damage."

"Yes, sir."

Lifting his head, Harris looks at David intently. "We've been together
a long time, haven't we, David?"

"We have, sir," David responds. "More than twelve years."

"You've become one of my most trusted assistants, and one of my
most reliable."

"Thank you sir. It's been an honor to work for you."

"There may be a change in the leadership soon, David," Harris says,
watching him assessingly. "If the situation we're dealing with now
resolves itself successfully, we may all rise a step in power."

David remains silent, aware of the unspoken message. Harris
has his eyes on the seat held by the Head of the Council, and is
ambitious enough to think he could unseat the current head if enough
Council members supported him. Bringing down the peace movement,
David reflects warily, would give him that kind of support.

"Should that happen," Harris continues, "I would bring you along
with me."

"Thank you, sir," David replies gravely. "I look forward to the
opportunity."

"Good." Harris nods his head abruptly. "I'll let you know when
the tape is available. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Giving Harris a small nod in return, David rises from his
chair and leaves the office, Tilton appearing from out of nowhere
to hold the door open for him. Glancing for a moment into the aide's
expressionless eyes, David walks past him and down the corridor to
the open space where his own office lies.

His mind works steadily as he walks, even as he automatically nods
to people he passes by and takes messages from his assistant. With
the background noise on the tape, it's clear that neither the traitor
in the peace movement nor Harris Templeton know yet that
he's the informant on the Council. As long as the sound on the tape
remains murky, he's safe .... safe to escape the Council offices,
or to damage the sound on the tape permanently without being detected.

Entering his office and shutting the door behind him, David tosses his
notepad onto his desk and drops down into his chair, staring at his
phone. His first instinct is to send Tom Daniels a message warning
him that something has gone wrong. But it's too soon, he decides,
taking a deep breath. He'll wait until he has the tape in his hands and
knows exactly what he's dealing with.

His eyes still focused on the phone, he suddenly notices the flashing red
light indicating waiting messages, and lifts the receiver to his ear,
punching in his personal code. The first message is from a contact
at Lewis's chameleon school about a new mission, the second is
from Roger, requesting a meeting, and the third ....

David's fingers tighten around the receiver.

The third is a message delivered by his answering service,
containing the emergency code words that Tom Daniels and he had
agreed upon.

~*~*~*~

Sarah Fielding watches Ed Tate and the two Baker brothers from her
office window, biting back an unaccustomed smile as Trevor dives
manfully for the football Ed has just thrown in his direction and misses
completely, landing in a low bush instead.

Ed hurries over to rescue Trevor from the bush, helping him to his
feet and brushing his shirt and jeans off, his face alight with humor.
Trevor looks embarrassed at first, his shoulders slumping with defeat,
but Ed soon has him back in the center of the lawn outside the main
lab building and tosses him the ball. Trevor misses again, but not by
much, and his face lights up as he bends down to pick it up and throw
it back to Ed.

Ed turns to make a laughing comment at Shane, who's been standing
to one side watching, and catches sight of Sarah standing at the
window of her main-floor office. Shane follows his gaze and smiles
at her, while Ed simply looks at her for a few minutes, his face
sobering. Sarah finds herself holding her breath, suspecting that
he knows why she's being held under guard in her office and wondering
whether he believes her guilty of the charge of trying to kill Tom Daniels.
Why his opinion should matter when just a day ago she had found him
so irritating confuses her, but they had connected yesterday somehow
and now what he thinks is important to her.

Time seems to stand still as he looks at her, and then, with a small
movement of his head, he nods to her and gives her a reassuring
smile.

"Dr. Fielding?"

Sarah turns her head, shocked to find that she hadn't sensed the
approach of her guard in her absorption with Ed, and looks at him
inquiringly. "Yes?" she says, her mouth suddenly going dry.

"They're waiting for you."

Sarah glances back out the window at Ed to find that he's still
watching her, his one hand holding the football to his chest. Needing
one last sign of encouragement, she puts her hand on the window,
her eyes searching his, and he gives her another small smile and
an encouraging nod.

"I'm ready," Sarah says, her eyes still on Ed, and then, summoning up
her courage, she turns and leaves her office, aware of Ed
watching her go.

The walk through the halls is completed in silence, the armed
guard staying close at her side, and Sarah ignores the curious looks of
people she passes by. Only one face stands out in her mind as she
makes her way toward the testing room, where Sam Anderson
will question her .... Peter Samuels, one of the lab's most respected
and experienced scientists and a mentor of hers, standing back
against the wall, his expression solemn. He raises his hand in a brief
salute as she passes, and she feels a flood of warmth go through her
to know that he, too, believes in her.

Sam and Walter Attwood are both seated when she arrives
at the testing room, Sam behind the long table holding both
the computer and the generator, and Walter in a chair nearby.
Walter, courtly as always, rises as she enters and gives her
a brief smile, waiting until she takes the chair across from Sam
before sitting down again. Sam stays seated, his eyes on her
as she moves, watching her steadily.

Once she's taken her seat, he gets right to the point. "Sarah, why
were you in your office almost two hours early this morning?" he asks
her evenly.

Glancing at Walter, she explains, "I was doing research on Tom's
implant. Dr. Tate had asked me to find out what I could from the
records of the scientists who developed it, and since I didn't have
time yesterday, I thought I'd get an early start on it today."

"Is there any reason why you were in this room at 06:20?"
Sam asks, checking his notes.

Sarah looks at him questioningly, surprised that he could pinpoint
the time of her visit so carefully.

"You were seen going into the room at 06:20, and emerging just
before 06:45," Sam explains briefly, and looks at her for an explanation.

"I wanted to make sure that everything was set for Tom's therapy
session," Sarah replies, folding her hands in her lap. "We'd all worked
so hard on getting the computer program right .... I just wanted to
check it one last time."

"You were in there for more than fifteen minutes," Sam points
out.

"I like to be thorough," Sarah says simply.

Sam nods his head thoughtfully. "Did you see anyone else in the
vicinity at that time?"

"No," Sarah replies, and stops to reflect. "There were people in
the office .... Marcus was there, and Martin, and Peter Samuels
..... but I don't remember seeing any of them near the testing room."

"Were the settings in the computer program within the normal
range when you checked them?" Walter interjects.

"Yes," Sarah confirms. "That was one of the things I double-
checked."

"I understand that in his briefing just after the accident, Marcus
told you and the other members of the team that the actual
settings transmitted to the generator were five times higher than
the ones that read on the screen," Sam says, and leans forward,
propping his elbows on the table. "Do you have an explanation
for that?"

Sarah shakes her head in bewilderment. "I've been trying to figure out
what might have happened ever since Marcus told us," she confesses.
"Are you sure it wasn't a fault in the generator itself?"

"Both the program and the generator have been examined, and our
initial findings clear the generator of any malfunction," Sam replies.
"The computer program, however, shows definite signs of tampering
..... our problem is that the tampering was covered up so expertly
that it wasn't until we went looking for the problem that we finally
found it."

Sarah falls silent, and drops her gaze to her hands.

"The knowledge and precision needed to carry off that kind of
tampering rules Andrea Scott out as a suspect," Sam continues.
"She has many strengths, but computer programming isn't one of them.
You and Martin, on the other hand, are both experts in programming
..... either one of you could have done this."

"But we didn't," Sarah responds in a low voice, raising her head
to meet Sam's gaze. "We wouldn't. We work with Tom Daniels
..... we respect him."

Sam watches her silently for a moment, and then checks his notes
again. "You logged in at Whitney Labs before 07:00 yesterday
morning, Sarah. What were you doing there so early?"

Sarah glances at Water, and finds him watching her carefully.
"I like to get an early start on my day," she says slowly. "I had made
a number of notes from the day before, and wanted to review them."

"Were you working in Walter Attwood's office, or Ed Tate's?" Sam
asks.

"No," Sarah replies, looking at him with confusion. "I had my work
spread out on one section of the counter in the main area of the lab."

"Was anyone else in the lab at that time?"

Sarah hesitates, and Sam watches her closely. "I saw Martin in the
office at that time," she finally admits.

"Did he say what he was doing there?"

"He told me that he'd left some papers in Walter's office."

Sam's gaze sharpens. "You're saying that you saw him in Walter
Attwood's office?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"I'm not sure," Sarah says slowly. "I didn't see him at first when
I came in, but then I saw something out of the corner of my eye,
and when I looked up he was there, behind Walter's desk."

"Doing what?"

"I couldn't tell," Sarah confesses. "He seemed to be sitting there,
checking some papers. He told me later that he left a file there by
mistake when he was making a call .... I assume he was checking
to make sure they were all there."

"How is your working relationship, Sarah .... yours and Martin's?"

Sarah hesitates. "I've had some concerns," she finally admits. "I had
actually left a note on your desk last night requesting a meeting with
you about them."

Sam frowns. "I didn't see a note."

Sarah flushes. "Anna didn't see one either, although she remembers
me saying I'd leave you one, and when I checked your desk this
morning I couldn't find it either."

"What were your concerns?"

"Some of Martin's actions have puzzled me," Sarah says slowly. "His
presence in Walter's office so early yesterday morning, for one thing,
although he had an explanation for it."

"What else?"

Sarah frowns. "Martin is encouraging Ed Tate to explore the idea of
using an airborne organic compound to disrupt the results of the human
tests being done at the Council's main labs, and yet Peter Samuels has
already dismissed that option as unworkable. I questioned Martin about
it yesterday, but he shrugged off my concerns and said that Peter hadn't
been thorough enough in his research, or imaginative enough."

"You disagree with that?" Sam asks.

"I checked with Peter late yesterday, and he assured me that he
had explored every possible organic compound and mix of organic
and man-made compounds. I showed him the list of compounds
Ed and Martin had come up with, and he confirmed that they were
among the ones he'd already tested and rejected as possible
candidates."

"Why didn't he raise the point during their conference call yesterday?"
Walter interjects.

"He wasn't included in the call," Sarah explains, her expression troubled.
"He was in the lab working on his latest experiment, and wasn't told
that the call was taking place."

"Had Martin checked with Peter before suggesting any of this to
Ed?" Sam asks.

"Peter says he gave Martin a complete briefing a few days ago,
at Martin's request," Sarah explains.

"Are you suggesting that Martin is deliberately sabotaging the
project, Sarah?" Sam asks skeptically.

Sarah clenches her hands together tightly. "I'm concerned that
Martin may be wasting our time exploring avenues of research
that we already know have no value to us," she says guardedly.

Sam nods slowly. "Any other concerns?"

Sarah hesitates, and nods her head. "His behavior with the
people in Walter's lab has been .... unexpected. Although it may
be a misunderstanding on my part. We had met several times
before beginning our work with Walter to plan our approach,
and Martin had been convinced that we should be aggressive in
order to establish our authority early on. He wanted us to put
each of Walter's staff members through a screening process in
order to weed out any inefficiency."

"But that's not the way he behaved when he first met us," Walter
says with a frown.

"No, it's not," she says slowly. "I arrived before he did, using
the approach he had suggested. But when Martin arrived he
behaved much differently, and admonished me for being so direct."

"Did you question him about it?" Sam asks curiously.

"I did," she confirms. "He told me that a final briefing with Marcus
had convinced him that our initial plan was wrong, but that
he hadn't had a chance to warn me." She gave a small shrug.
"I know it's a small point, but allowing me to go ahead aggressively
could have risked our entire working relationship with Whitney
Labs."

"Would it surprise you to know that Martin didn't mention any of
this when we interviewed him?" Sam asks her intently. "He spoke
very highly of you, and said that your working relationship was
proceeding very smoothly."

Sarah bit her lip. "I don't think he realized how concerned I was,"
she says quietly.

A quiet knock sounds at the door, and one of the lab assistants
enters to hand Sam a handwritten message before turning and
leaving silently. He avoids Sarah's eyes on the way out of the room,
leaving her to stare at Sam with a growing sense of unease.

Sam reads the message wordlessly and passes it to Walter before
turning his gaze back to Sarah. "I've had people working on your
computer while you've been in here, Sarah," he says briefly. "They've
just traced the tampering of Tom's computer program to your
terminal."

Sarah looks at him in stunned silence.

"Is there any way of knowing who actually did the tampering?"
Walter asks.

"They're dusting for fingerprints now, but I don't expect them to
turn up any but Sarah's," Sam says briefly, his eyes never leaving
hers.

"I didn't do it, Sam," Sarah insists, finally finding her voice.

"That may be, Sarah," he says evenly, "but the fact remains that
someone used your terminal to tamper with that program. You are
one of only four people in this building who know that program,
and who has access to it. You were also in the testing room this
morning before the test was done for at least fifteen minutes. And
you were in Walter's lab yesterday, by yourself, at a time when
listening devices were planted there."

Sarah looks at him with wide eyes, her fingers clenched so tightly
together that her knuckles turn white. "Listening devices?"

"We also found the same kind of listening device in your home,
hidden behind a bookcase in your bedroom. It wasn't operational
..... my investigators tell me it was still in its plastic package. There
was also a tape of conversations that took place at Walter's office
yesterday, presumably picked up by the bug planted near his desk."

"I don't understand," Sarah says, her voice hushed.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Sam says, coming to his feet. "I'm afraid I'm
going to have to place you in custody."

~*~*~*~

Sloan finds Sam in the testing room two hours later, sitting alone
behind the computer, his head lifted inquiringly as she appears
in the doorway.

"Tom was right, wasn't he?" she asks, leaning against the doorframe,
her arms crossed in front of her. "You've got more than you can handle
here."

Sam looks at her ruefully, his eyes tired, his blond hair mussed from
the number of times he's run his hands through it. "Does it
show?"

"Oh yeah," she says with a tired smile, slowly walking into
the room. Her gaze drops to the floor where Tom had lain just a few
hours ago, and her smile dies away as she thinks how close she came
to losing him.

"I heard about Sarah," she says, taking a seat across from Sam.

"I thought you might have," he says, leaning back in his chair with
a sigh.

"Do you really think she did it?"

"I don't want to," he confesses. "But I can't ignore the evidence.
Everything we've uncovered so far points directly to her."

"Doesn't that make you wonder?" Sloan asks skeptically. "If she's
so smart, why would she leave such an obvious trail?"

"That's what I keep stumbling up against," Sam admits, shaking his
head. "Normally, she's too intelligent to make those kind of mistakes."

"Normally?" Sloan echoes.

"These aren't normal times, Sloan," Sam says wearily. "If she is the
traitor, it could be that she felt cornered .... she might have started
taking chances and making mistakes."

"What if she's being set up?"

"It's possible," Sam concedes slowly. Cocking his head, he looks
at her curiously. "What do you think of her?"

"I trust her". Sloan frowns thoughtfully. "And I feel a little sorry for
her. She seems lost sometimes, or maybe it's just that she's awkward
around humans."

"Do you think she's capable of betraying us?"

"No, I don't. She truly believes in what Marcus is doing, Sam.
And she respects Tom too much to ever want to hurt him."

"What about Martin?" Sam asks.

Sloan cocks her head and looks at Sam with concern. "Shouldn't
you be asking Marcus these questions?" she says gently. "You two
know your people better than anyone. You'd have a better sense
for them than I ever could."

Sam looks at her warily. "You know about Marcus?"

"Ed told me," Sloan confirms. "Sam .... "

"Not now, Sloan," Sam says quietly, and shakes his head when Sloan
opens her mouth to protest. "Please."

Sloan falls silent, giving him a sympathetic look.

"Humor me," Sam asks her. "Tell me what your first impression was
of Martin Donovan."

"Smooth," Sloan says automatically, and then looks at Sam with
surprise. "I hadn't realized that until now. He's very smooth, very
charming. He reminds me of the way Tom is when he puts on his
FBI persona."

"And underneath the charm?"

Sloan stops to think. "I noticed something when Trevor met him,"
she says finally. "He's very shy, and very wary of adult dominants,
probably because of his parents. When he met Martin and shook
hands with him, he pulled back as quickly as he could and he's avoided
him ever since. But when he met Sarah, he smiled at her, and later at
the loft he was trying to get her to relax." Sloan looks at Sam
reflectively. "I can't tell you how unusual that is for him ....
he's usually very reserved, even for a dominant."

Sam looks at her with a wry twist to his mouth. "Sloan, he's just
a boy."

"A boy with an intuitive sense for people," Sloan corrects him.
"Maybe it's the artist in him, the fact that he's always observing
everyone around him, but he sees people for who they really are."
Clasping her hands together on her knees, she leans forward and
looks at Sam intently. "He's known Tom for just over a week now,
and yet when he did a portrait of him a few days ago, it was as if
he'd known him all his life. He saw things in Tom that few people
have, and it all came through in that drawing."

Sam sits silently, turning her words over in his mind, and
then glances over at the door as a quiet knock sounds there.

"Come in," he says, rising out of his chair as Jason Stuart opens
the door and walks in. "Sloan, you remember Jason," he says.

Sloan stands up with a smile, turning to face the tall, taciturn man
who heads Marcus's team of commandos. "It's good to see
you again," she says, holding her hand out. "I've never had the
chance to tell you how grateful I am to you for helping Tom rescue
Trevor from Drew Richards."

"Tom did all the work," Jason says, taking her hand and giving her
a grave nod. "We were just there to clean up the mess afterward."

"He wouldn't have been able to do it without your help," Sloan insists,
shaking his hand.

"How *is* Tom?" Jason asks, frowning with concern.

"Better," she says, her smile widening. "He'll be able to go home
tonight, as long as he promises to go straight to bed for at least the
next day or two. He's sleeping right now."

"What can I do to help?" Jason asks, turning to Sam.

"Keep investigating Sarah Fielding for me," Sam replies. "Trace her
movements for the past few weeks .... bank transactions, phone calls,
where she's been. Go over her house again inch by inch. I need
something that will either lock the case up against her or clear her."

Jason looks at him questioningly. "You think the bug and the tape
were a plant?"

"Maybe."

"Anything else?"

Sam glances over at Sloan for a moment, and then looks back at
Jason. "Put twenty-four-hour surveillance on Martin Donovan. I want
to know where he goes and who he sees. Monitor his phone calls, and
check his bank transactions and phone records. If you find anything
significant, call me .... I don't care what time of day or night it is."

Jason nods silently.

"I'll also need two teams of your best men tonight. I want one to keep
watch over Tom and Sloan's place .... after what happened today, I
want Tom guarded at all times."

"And the second?"

"I need them to set up surveillance on a meet I plan to have with one of
Tom's sources. There's a chance he might be followed ....
I want your men in place ahead of time to take out anyone who might
be tailing him. I'll let you know as soon as I have a time and place."

Jason nods again and leaves the room quickly, closing the door behind him.
Sam stares after him for a moment and then glances back at Sloan, giving
her a weary smile as they both return to their seats. "It looks as
if I'm in for a long night," he observes, leaning back in his chair.

"What can I do to help?" Sloan asks sympathetically. "Tom's fine
for the moment .... Walter's sitting with him, and Ed and the boys
will be taking over soon, so I'm free for a while."

"Nothing for now," Sam says, staring down at the mess of papers on
his desk. "Although I'd like to steal Ed and Walter away from you.
From what Ed's told me, he needs help understanding some of the
information he found in the Council files .... now that he's cleared me,
I'm free to help them sort out what he's found."

"It sounds like a huge job," she observes. "Ed says the files are
pretty detailed."

"It will take hours," Sam predicts grimly. "I want to go through
everything he's got on Sarah and Martin, and on the rest of the staff
as well."

The sound of a phone ringing has them sitting up in their chairs, and
Sam reaches into his pocket to pull out Tom's cell phone. Sloan
watches silently as he takes the call and quickly reaches for a pad
of paper, making notes as he listens to the brief message. "Yes,
thank you," he says finally, and ends the call.

"What is it?" Sloan asks, peering at the notes he's made.

"A message from Jacob," Sam says, reaching for the list of
coded words Tom had given him and matching to the message he'd just
written down. "He got Tom's warning, but wants to stay in place for the
moment. He's agreed to a meeting later tonight."

Checking his watch, Sam gives a slight shake of his head. "I'll have to
get started on those files earlier than I'd thought if I want to make
any real progress before the meeting. I'd better let Ed and Walter
know .... "

"Let me meet with him," Sloan interrupts impulsively. "You're too busy
to get away, but I'm not. I know enough about the situation to brief
him on what's happened, and you can fill me in on anything I need
to know."

"No," Sam says flatly, and gives her a warning look when she opens
her mouth to object. "No, Sloan. Tom would have my head if I sent
you out there to meet with Jacob."

"Jason's men will be there to overpower anyone who might be
following him," Sloan reminds him. "They'll keep me safe."

"What makes you think Jacob would even talk to you?"

"Tom's told me about Laura, and about the talks he's had with
Jacob about love." Sloan leans forward in her chair, her hands
clasped in front of her. "Jacob knows how Tom feels about me, and
he knows how much Tom's trusted me almost from the start. I
think he'll take that as a sign that he can trust me too."

"Sloan .... " Sam says warningly, but she cuts him off. "You know
I'm right, Sam," she says urgently. "I can do this. I need to do this,
for Tom. You know how much he's blaming himself for using Jacob's
real name .... if something happens to Jacob he won't be able to
forgive himself, and he's already carrying enough guilt around for
what he's done in the past. I don't want him to have to deal with any
more."

"He won't agree to this," Sam points out.

"He won't have a choice," Sloan says, flashing a grin at him. "I can
be pretty persuasive when I want to."

"He'll need someone there to take care of him," Sam argues, unwilling
to give way.

"I'll ask our landlady to baby-sit him and the boys while I'm gone,"
Sloan fires back, and breaks out into a chuckle at Sam's double-take.
"I know, I know .... the thought of Tom Daniels letting anyone baby-sit
him is pretty hard to imagine, but you haven't met Ellen Peabody. She
can be more stubborn than I can, and she loves to mother people ....
I think she'll snatch at the chance to spend an evening fussing over
him."

Sam looks at her with resignation. "You've got this all figured out,
haven't you?"

"Pretty much, for a spur of the moment idea," Sloan teases him. "What
do you say?"

Sam glances back down at the message from Jacob, and then at Sloan.
"Before I agree to this, I want your word that you'll meet with Jason
here first and let him take you to the meeting. I also want your word
that you'll let him make the final decision as to whether it's safe to go
ahead with it. If for any reason he decides to pull you, you do as he
says, no questions asked."

"Agreed," Sloan says promptly, and holds out her hand, her eyes
bright with resolve.

Sam hesitates and then takes her hand in his. "Promise me I won't
live to regret this."

"You won't," Sloan vows. "Just don't tell Tom. I want to tell him at
the right time."

"I wouldn't dare," Sam says, rising up from his chair, the message in
his hand, and gives Sloan a quick smile. "I value my life too much."

~*~*~*~

"Sarah didn't do this," Ed insists, pacing Martin's office restlessly.
"She wouldn't."

Martin leans back in his chair and watches him patiently. "Apparently
there's enough evidence against her to convince Sam that she may be
guilty."

"What, because whoever tampered with that program did it from
her terminal?" Ed snaps impatiently. "Anyone could have done that."

"I agree, but there has to be more to it," Martin points out.
"Sam wouldn't arrest her just on that alone."

Ed slows his pacing to look at him. "Have you heard anything about
what else they have on her?"

"Not so far," Martin says, shaking his head. "All I know is what they
told me when they finally dismissed the guard from my door fifteen
minutes ago. I was free to leave, but Sarah would be held in custody
pending possible charges."

"Damn it!" Ed protests. "It just doesn't make sense .... she's not that
kind
of person."

"I'm surprised to hear you defend her this way," Martin says, watching him
curiously. "I didn't think you liked her very much."

"I didn't," Ed admits, and finally gives up pacing to settle down on the
edge of Martin's low bank of file cabinets across from his desk. "But
she and I sat down and cleared the air yesterday afternoon, and now
I see her differently."

"I'm glad to hear that," Martin says with a grin. "It was pretty
uncomfortable being in a room with the two of you glaring at
each other."

Ed flushes. "I just didn't understand her, and she didn't understand me."

"But now you do?"

"I think so," Ed says slowly. "She's not at all what I thought she was
at first."

"You thought she was a grim, humorless dominant with no imagination
or tolerance for humans," Martin points out wryly.

"Well, yeah," Ed admits, ducking his head and running his hand through
his hair.

"And now?"

"Now I think she's just awkward around humans," Ed says with a shrug.
"But once she relaxes, there's a whole other side to her."

Martin tips his chair forward and looks at Ed, a troubled expression on
his face. "I'm really glad the two of you are getting along, Ed," he says
cautiously. "But don't get your hopes up too much."

Ed looks at him with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"Sarah's .... " Martin seems to search for words. "Sarah's different.
Different from anyone you've ever known before, and different than
most of us. Things in her past have placed limitations on her, on what
she can be and how she can relate to people. Don't expect too much
from her."

"I don't understand," Ed says slowly.

Martin looks at him silently and then rises to his feet to come
around his desk and perch on the edge of it, facing Ed. "There
are things about our species you don't know, Ed," he says quietly.
"You've only touched the surface in your research, and there's a lot
that you don't understand."

"So tell me."

"You know that our women each have four wombs and carry four
fetuses in each pregnancy," Martin says hesitantly. "The four babies born
of each pregnancy will look the same and be the same for the most
part."

"We found that out," Ed confirms. "Tom's brother was his exact
match."

"Not exact," Martin cautions him. "That's what I'm trying to explain.
Tom's brother looked like Tom; he had his features and his build. But
Tom was the best of that pregnancy, the first to be born. His brother
would have been second or third in the pregnancy, maybe even fourth.
He would have been physically weaker than Tom, less intelligent, less
stable emotionally."

Ed frowns. He hadn't expected that Martin, raised by relatively
free-thinking dominants, would actually buy into the idea of one child
being better than another simply by the order of its birth. "Has this
been documented scientifically?"

"By our best researchers," Martin assures him. "The firstborn
child is the best .... the rest are affected by the order in which they're
born. The fourth would be the weakest, the least intelligent. They would
do the physical work we need done, and they might not live as long as
the rest." He pauses and leans forward to look at Ed intently. "Sarah
is a fourth baby, Ed. She doesn't have the skills or the intelligence
to be as productive a member of our species as I am."

Ed opens his mouth to protest, but Martin holds up his hand to stop him.
"Don't get me wrong, Ed. I don't like the whole birth classification
system but it's a reality, and it's based in science. Sarah can't be
relied
on to the same extent that I can, or Tom can, as firstborns. The fact
that she came this far is a miracle, but it could be that the strain is
beginning to show. She may have snapped under it and lashed out,
or she may have been turned to the other side. We can't say at this
point. But we can't ignore the possibility."

Ed stares at him incredulously. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

Martin stiffens. "You knew about this, didn't you?" he asks
slowly. "You knew she was a fourth baby."

"Yeah, I knew," Ed says tightly. "How did you?"

"Sarah's something of a wonder here," Martin says haltingly. "She's the
only fourth ever to reach this high in the scientific community, and
we've all been proud of her accomplishments."

"It didn't sound like it a minute ago. You sounded as though you
believed she was capable of trying to kill Tom."

"I *have* been proud of her," Martin insists. "But I've been wary, too
..... we all have. We have to be, Ed. She's an unknown quantity, and
she'd tell you that herself. That's why she doesn't socialize, and why
we don't force her. She's as aware of her limitations as we are,
and doesn't want to mix with us too much."

"Mix with you?" Ed echoes, his voice hardening. "You make it sound
as though she has a disease."

"She's different, Ed," Martin says placatingly. "That's all I'm trying to
say." Looking at Ed questioningly, he asks, "How did you find out about
her birth status?"

"It was in her files," Ed says absently, and then flushes when he looks at
Martin. "It doesn't matter .... it's something I came across, and Shane
explained the whole birth classification thing to me."

"Sam has you helping with the investigation?" Martin asks curiously,
and Ed nods, moving up from the filing cabinet restlessly to pace again.
"They asked me to do a few things," he admits. "I can't say more. I'm
sorry, Martin."

"Don't be," Martin assures him hastily. "I just hope you get to the bottom
of this."

"I hope so, too," Ed says, looking at him thoughtfully

~*~*~*~

Catching Walter's eye through the window of Tom's room, Sloan
beckons him silently into the hallway, where she stands waiting with
Sam.

"How is he?" Sloan asks quietly as Walter emerges, leaving the
door slightly ajar.

"Still sleeping," Walter reports, glancing back at Tom's still figure in
the
bed. "He hasn't moved once since I got here."

"He needs it," Sloan says. "Has anyone been in to check on him?"

"The nurse has been by twice, and says the doctor will be in later
to do a final assessment on him." Walter turns and nods to Sam.
"Anything new on the investigation?"

Sam opens his mouth to reply and then freezes as he spots Marcus
walking up to them.

"I need to talk to you," Marcus says firmly.

"Not now, Marcus," Sam says, turning away, but Marcus reaches
out to take him by the arm. "Sarah didn't do it, Sam," he says
evenly. "You know that as well as I do."

"I would have thought so twenty-four hours ago," Sam replies, his
voice hollow. "But I've learned since that I can't trust my judgment
about people."

Marcus's lips tighten, and Walter and Sloan glance at each
other uneasily, aware of the sudden rise in tension in the hallway. "Maybe
you two need some time alone," Walter suggests. "Sloan and I can
leave, if you'd like .... "

"It's not necessary," Sam says tersely, and glances over at Tom. "I came
to talk to Tom. Let me know when he wakes up .... "

"I'm awake," Tom calls out quietly, and Sloan spins around to look
at him through the glass window before hurrying into his room, her
face lighting up in a smile. "How are you feeling?" she asks, laying
her hand on his.

Stretching slightly, he winces and then returns her smile. "Better. Still
sore."

Sloan's smile softens. "You took quite a jolt .... it's going to take some
time to get over."

Looking past her at the three men who have filed into the room and
gathered at the foot of his bed, Tom casts an inquiring look at Sam.
"Have you heard from Jacob?"

"Just a few minutes ago," Sam tells him. "He feels safe enough to stay
put for the moment, and has agreed to a meeting tonight at the usual
place."

"Have you arranged for surveillance?"

"Already taken care of .... Jason Stuart will have a team in place
nearby."

Tom nods, and closes his eyes briefly as the movement jars his
headache. "Jackson's Point at midnight, just down the hillside
from the main road and to the left. He'll sit back at first at the top
of the hill .... just be in position, and he'll come to you when he's
ready."

Sam makes a note of the time and place in the small pad he carries.
"Got it."

"Any progress in the investigation?" Tom asks.

"I've had Sarah detained," Sam says evenly, ignoring Marcus's
reproachful look.

Tom watches him silently for a moment, gauging his mood, and then
looks over at Walter and Marcus. "Would you give us a moment alone,
please?" he asks, and then, as the two men nod and turn toward the
door, he adds, "Marcus, I'd like to speak to you as well for a moment,
if you'd wait outside."

Marcus looks at him searchingly, and then at Sam, who avoids his
gaze. "I need to see you, Sam, once we've finished here," he says
implacably.

Sam looks at him reluctantly. "Can it wait, Marcus? I've got a lot
on my hands right now .... "

"It's important, Sam," Marcus insists, standing his ground. "I
wouldn't ask if it wasn't."

Sam tightens his lips and slowly nods. "I'll meet you in the testing
room in fifteen minutes."

Marcus nods silently, and turns to Tom. "I'll be outside," he says
briefly, and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

Taking Sloan's hand, Tom waits for Sam to turn his attention
back to them. "What did you find?" he asks slowly.

"Evidence that Sarah's computer was the one used to tamper with
the generator," Sam says soberly. "We also found an unused bug
hidden at her house, as well as a surveillance tape of conversations
that took place in Walter's office yesterday."

Tom frowns. "What does she say?"

"She swears she didn't do it," Sam tells him. "She seemed genuinely
shocked when I told her about the tape."

"Did you believe her?"

Sam looks troubled. "As it stands now, the evidence all points to her,
and it's the evidence that I trust at this point, not what I might think of
her.
I have Jason looking, though, to see if he can find anything that might
clear her, or point to someone else."

Tom tilts his head, regarding him thoughtfully. "Have you come up
with anything on Martin Donovan?"

"Sarah had some interesting things to say about Martin," Sam says
slowly, and fills Sloan and Tom in on Sarah's observations of Martin's
odd behavior in the last two days.

"He *knew* he was pointing Ed in the wrong direction in his research?"
Sloan asks incredulously.

"Sarah seems to think so. But if she's the real traitor, it would be
natural for her to try to implicate someone else in her place."

"Can you confirm her story with Peter Samuels?" Tom asks.

"I'm on my way to talk to him now," Sam says. "I've also asked Jason
to put a tail on Martin and monitor his phone calls. I'll let you know
what Peter says, and what Jason finds out."

"I'll be here," Tom says with a weary smile. "Or at home. Call me
whenever you need to. And Sam," he adds as Sam begins to turn
away. "Remember what I said about Marcus. Give him a chance."

Sam nods reluctantly and gives Sloan a parting nod before walking
to the door and opening it to let Marcus in. The two men look at each
other silently before Sam leaves, his face carefully blank.

Tom watches as the older man walks into the room, his handsome
face lined with strain, and then looks up at Sloan. "Could we have a
minute alone?" he asks, his fingers moving gently against hers.

"Sure," she responds, and leans down to give him a soft kiss on
his forehead. "I'll go check on the boys." Letting Tom's hand go,
she gives Marcus a quick smile and leaves the room, shutting the
door quietly behind her.

"How are you doing?" Tom asks, watching Marcus walk
slowly around the side of the bed toward him.

Marcus gives him a wry look. "Aren't I supposed to be asking
you that question?"

"Marcus," Tom says slowly, "Sam told me about what happened ....
about what Ed found in your files."

Marcus's expression stills. "Then you know the truth about me."

"I do," Tom acknowledges. "It looks as though we have a lot more
in common that I'd thought." Leaning his head back against the pillow,
he asks, "How old were you when they started training you?"

"A little older than you were," Marcus says heavily. "They came
to my school when I was fourteen, and talked to a lot of the kids
there."

"They took you away from your family?"

Marcus nods again briefly, taking a seat in the chair placed next
to Tom's bed. "They had a small group of us they kept
in a barracks. They weren't as tough on us as they were on you,
though." He grimaces. "We weren't supposed to get our hands dirty,
we'd just trick people .... preferably our own, since they wouldn't be
able to sense our real motivations. Our trainers flattered us, played
up on our ability to lie, and we became experts at it."

"We were all liars, Marcus," Tom points out quietly. "It was a way
of life for us."

Marcus nods slowly, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe that's why
it was so impossible to tell the truth later, to Sam and to the others
..... why I never could. I had no experience with the truth."

"Every time I told Sloan another part of my past, I had to fight against
my training to keep silent or to lie," Tom says quietly. "I still do, at
times."

The two fall silent, each contemplating their past, until Tom gives
himself a small mental shake and returns to the subject at hand. "I'm
assuming they groomed you to work your way up the ranks to Council
member, and coached you into sounding like the one most sympathetic
to peace. What I don't understand is why they let you stay on the
council after you turned on them."

"I blackmailed them into it," Marcus says simply. "I
was a prominent member by that point and had enough support
from moderates on the Council that any move to get rid of me
would have raised questions. I got to stay in place on the promise
that I would keep my mouth shut about what I'd been trained to do.
They found me less dangerous as the leader of a small peace faction
than as a whistleblower who could show just how ruthless the more
militant faction could be against its own kind."

"What are you going to do now?"

Marcus hesitates, and glances out into the hallway, where Sam and
Sloan stand close together, talking quietly. "Sam's reaction convinced
me at first that I should step down and let him run the movement. I'd
lost his trust, and knew I'd lose the trust of everyone else once they
knew the truth. But Sarah's arrest changed all that." He looks back
at Tom almost defiantly. "Sam's wrong about her."

"I agree," Tom says slowly. "I think he knows it too, deep down. But
he's lost confidence in his instincts."

Marcus glances back at Sam and Sloan. "I've left him alone since
we got back, thinking that it would help. But it hasn't, has it?"

"No, it hasn't." Tom follows Marcus's gaze, and looks at Sam with
concern. "He can't function much longer the way he is now .... he's
trying to do it all on his own, he's got people looking at him for
answers, and he doubts his own judgment. He needs your help,
Marcus, whether he'll admit it or not."

"Then I won't give him a choice." Standing up, Marcus hesitates
a moment, and looks at Tom soberly. "Thank you for this, Tom
..... for understanding. Water said that you would."

Tom's expression is equally serious. "Walter's a good man, Marcus.
So are you, no matter what you might think right now."

Still hesitating, Marcus studies him silently. "Have you forgiven
yourself, Tom?" he asks finally. "For the things you did when you
worked for Lewis?"

Tom meets his gaze evenly. "No. I don't think I ever will, not entirely."

"How do you deal with it?"

"I do what I can to make amends." Tom looks at him perceptively.
"Isn't that what you've been doing for the last twenty years?"

Marcus's lips twist into a humorless smile. "You seem to know me better
than I know myself."

Tom shakes his head. "I know what you're feeling because I've felt it
myself. We can't change our past, Marcus, or wish it away .... all we
can do is make the rest of our lives count for something."

"And fight back against the people who made us what we are,"
Marcus says in a low voice.

Tom slowly nods his head. "And fight back," he echoes.

~*~*~*~

Harris Templeton doesn't glance up from the papers on his desk
as Tilton answers his summons. "Has there been any word about
the tape?"

"The call just came in, sir. It won't be available until later tonight."

Harris tightens his lips, looking up at his aide. "What's the reason
for the delay?"

"There's a problem at Marcus Adams' lab, sir. No word as to what
..... just that our contact is initiating a back-up plan to resolve the
situation and get the tape to you."

Harris drops his gaze back down to the papers on his desk.

"Contact David Armstrong. Tell him we may not need him tonight,
but that he's to be on call in case we do."

"Yes, sir."

~*~*~*~

Glancing up as Patrick enters his office, a stack of files in his hands,
David raises his eyebrow. "Any word from Harris Templeton's
office?"

"Not since this morning," Patrick says, carefully laying the files on top
of an existing stack on David's desk. "Should there be?"

David shakes his head and gazes back down at the paperwork
spread out on his desk. "His aide is supposed to contact me at
some point, but it may not be until later today."

"I'll let you know as soon as he does," Patrick says. "Judith Baker
called, though .... she said she didn't have time to speak to you
directly, but requested your presence at a meeting in Roger Abbott's
office at 19:00 hours."

David glances at his watch and frowns. "I don't have time for this,"
he mutters, reaching out for the top file in the stack Patrick had
brought him.

"She was quite firm about it," Patrick says, his voice expressionless.

David looks up. "Handing out orders again, was she?"

"Isn't she always?"

"True," David says wryly, and checks his watch. "Tell her I may
be tied up, but that I'll make it if I can."

"She won't like it," Patrick warns him.

David's mouth quirks in an unaccustomed smile. "She won't, will
she?"

Patrick looks at him with a faint smile of his own, and leaves the
office just as David's office line rings. "Armstrong," David says
tersely, his attention dropping back down to the file in front of him.

"Mr. Templeton may not need your services tonight." Robert
Tilton's cool voice sounds on the other end of the phone. "He requests,
however, that you be on call should he need you."

"I will," David agrees, and hears the click of the line as Tilton ends
the call abruptly. Ignoring the man's officiousness, David hangs up
and glances at his watch again. If Templeton doesn't need him to
stay tonight, he'll be free to meet with Judith and the others and still
make his late-night meeting with Tom.

He'll also, he thinks intently, gazing back down at the files on his
desk, have time to plan what to do about the tape that could
incriminate him.

~*~*~*~

Sam strides into the testing room, his expression
cool and distant. "What can I do for you, Marcus?"

Rising up from his seat in front of the computer, Marcus faces him
squarely. "You can let me do my job. I plan on taking an active
role in your investigation."

Sam frowns at him. "It's not necessary, Marcus. I have everything
under control."

"If you did, Sarah Fielding would not be in custody."

Sam stiffens, his eyes narrowing. "The evidence .... "

"You've always excelled in dealing with facts and numbers, Sam,"
Marcus says bluntly. "But you're not as good at reading people
..... that's been my strength. Without me, you've fallen back on the
facts, and they're the wrong ones."

Taking his seat again, he looks up at Sam grimly. "Now, what are
you doing at this point?"

"I have Jason checking her house, her bank accounts and her phone
records," Sam stay stiffly. "His men are also going over her work
station and evidence we found at her home for fingerprints
and other identifying marks that would link her to Tom's accident and
to the bugs we found here and at Whitney Labs."

"Is she your only suspect?"

Sam hesitates. "We're also investigating Martin Donovan, based on
questions Sarah raised about his behavior the last day or two."

"Did you find anything on him in the Council's security files?"

"Not that Ed could see," Sam replies. "He and Walter and I plan to go
through them again tonight, once they've taken Tom home and helped
him settle in, to see if there's anything Ed might have missed." Checking
his watch, he shifts restlessly. "Really, Marcus, Walter and Ed can help
me with everything I need .... "

"I'll go over the files with you," Marcus says implacably. "I know the
Council's ways better than any of you .... I might spot something
you wouldn't pick up on."

"Marcus ..... " Sam protests.

Marcus slowly rises to face Sam, his face set with determination. "You
don't trust me," he says evenly. "I can understand that. You don't want
to work with me. I can understand that, too .... if I were in your
position,
I would feel the same way. But you can't wish me out of existence. I'm
the head of this movement, and that won't change."

Sam looks at him silently for a moment. "The way you've acted since
we've been back, I wasn't sure you'd stay on," he says finally.

"Neither was I," Marcus admits. "But I realized, with help, that the
revelations about my past don't change what I've done for the past
twenty years, and what I plan to keep doing. I hope that you can
accept that."

"And if I can't?"

"That's your decision to make." Marcus meets Sam's gaze evenly. "I
want you here, by my side, as you've always been. I want to prove
to you that I'm worthy of your trust. But I won't back away from my
job because you can't handle my past."

The two men face each other wordlessly until Sam finally steps
back, his expression carefully blank. "I'll tell Ed to meet us here in the
testing room, as soon as he's free."

"I'll be waiting," Marcus says quietly.

~*~*~*~

"Is it safe to let him go this early?" Trevor asks Ed, peering past him
down the hallway at the lab. "Are they sure he's all right?"

"He'll be fine, Trevor," Ed says patiently, exchanging a private grin
with Shane. This was the third time Trevor had asked about Tom
since they'd gathered in the front lobby of the lab waiting for Tom to be
released, and not once had Ed's answers reassured him. "The
doctor says all he needs now is rest, and he can do that just
as well at home as he can here."

"But how do they know?" Trevor persists. "Maybe something will
happen once he gets home, and we won't know what to do."

"Nothing will happen, Trev," Shane assures him. "They've checked
everything out, remember? There's no permanent damage, just some
soreness and his headache."

"But he looks so tired."

"That's the headache," Ed explains. "He'll look better once he's had
a chance to rest."

"Maybe he needs a wheelchair," Trevor suggests, looking up at Ed
with worried eyes. "It's a long walk from his room to here, and then
we've got to get him to the car."

"He refused the wheelchair, remember? He wants to walk out of
here on his own two feet. And I've got his car pulled right up to the
front door, so he won't have far to walk once he gets here." Ed
takes Trevor by the shoulders to gently turn him in the direction of the
front glass doors. "See?"

Trevor looks at Tom's car, sitting in front of the building's stone steps,
and glances up at Ed apologetically. "Sorry," he says quietly. "I'm
just worried about him."

"It's okay, champ," Ed says, squeezing Trevor's shoulders
comfortingly. "We all are."

"Hey." Martin Donovan appears beside them, shrugging on a black jacket.
"They're letting Tom out?"

"Hey," Ed responds with a brief smile. "Yeah, they say he can go home
as long as he rests for a while."

Martin gives Trevor a quick grin. "You must be relieved to hear that,
I bet."

Trevor nods silently. Ed is surprised to feel the boy tense under his
hands, and he tightens his hold reassuringly. "We're all relieved,"
he says easily, and nods at Shane. "Martin, I don't think you've met
Trevor's brother yet. Shane, this is Martin Donovan .... he works with
Sloan and I at the lab."

"Pleased to meet you," Shane says politely.

"So now I've met the whole family," Martin says with a smile, reaching
out to shake Shane's hand. "It's good to meet you too."

Ed observes the unfolding scene thoughtfully. He had found Martin
charming when they first met and had quickly established a friendly
relationship with him. But Martin's attitude toward Sarah's birth
classification had jarred him, and he finds himself looking at him with
fresh eyes. The charm that had worked so well on himself and on
Walter is falling flat here .... Trevor hasn't said a word, and Shane has
a shuttered look on his face, his body language wary. Clearly, neither
one feels comfortable with Martin Donovan.

Realizing that Martin is looking at him again, Ed musters up
a friendly smile. "You heading home?" he asks, gesturing at the
jacket.

Martin nods briefly. "My sister called me for help .... she's got
car trouble again, and needs someone to help her out. Any chance
of you coming along? I'm good in a lab, but pretty inept around anything
mechanical."

"I wish I could, but I'm tied up," Ed says, flexing his hands on
Trevor's shoulders. "Good luck, though."

"Thanks," Martin says with a grin. "I'll need it."

With a last friendly wave to the boys, Martin leaves the building,
and Ed turns to look at Shane. "You don't like him much, do you?"
he observes, lowering his voice.

Shane ducks his head. "He's okay, I guess."

"Tell me, Shane," Ed presses him. "I need to know .... what is it
about him that makes you so uncomfortable?"

Trevor shifts and looks up at Ed with a troubled expression. "He
reminds me of my mother," he says in a small voice, and looks at
Shane for confirmation.

Shane nods, meeting Ed's questioning gaze reluctantly. "It's hard to
explain. I just have the sense that he's like her .... acting one
way in public, and a way different one in private." Shane narrows
his eyes. "You don't know whether to trust him, do you?"

"I thought I did," Ed says slowly. "Now I'm not so sure."

"Don't," Shane says abruptly.

Ed opens his mouth to ask another question, but Shane turns his
head suddenly to look down the hallway, his face lighting up. "They're
coming," he says, and Trevor cranes his head to look.

Seconds later Ed can see Tom walking slowly toward them, Sloan
and Walter on either side of him, ready to support him if necessary.
Trevor's right, Ed thinks to himself as he watches them approach.
Tom looks tired and pale, and at times seems to need Walter's
steadying hand. He breaks into a smile at the sight of the two boys,
though, and picks up his pace to meet them.

"Tom!" Trevor says excitedly, and hurries up to greet him. "Are you
feeling any better. Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine, Trevor," Tom says reassuringly. "I'm a little tired, that's
all."

"Can I do anything?"

"Why don't you take my place here?" Walter suggests, backing away
with a smile. "That way you can balance him, if he needs it."

Trevor moves into place beside Tom and looks up at him as Tom rests
his hand on his shoulder. "Like this?"

"Just like that," Tom says, smiling down at him.

"So they're springing you at last," Ed says, giving Tom a welcoming
grin.

"Finally," Tom says gratefully. "But not before they poked and prodded
me one last time."

"*And* gave me very firm instructions on making him rest," Sloan says,
giving him a warning look.

"I've got your car pulled up out front," Ed says, turning to look at Sloan.
"I'll drive you back to your place, with Walter following behind. We'll
get you settled in, and then Walter will drive me back here."

"We can't ask you to do that .... " Sloan protests, but Walter cuts her
off.

"We'd both feel better if you'd let us do this for you, Sloan, and for
you, Tom," he says kindly. "I just wish we could stay and help, but
Sam needs us back here tonight."

"We'll be fine, Walter," Sloan assures him. "I've got our landlady
coming up to help out."

"You do?" Tom asks, looking at her with surprise and sensing again
the determination and nervousness that Sloan has shown since showing
up in his room to help him get ready to leave. "Sloan, what's .... "

"Shouldn't we be getting you to the car?" she asks brightly, taking
his arm and steering him forward.

"Sloan .... " Tom says warningly, but finds himself being helped through
the front doors of the building with Sloan on one side and Trevor pressed
up against his other side, his face set with concentration.

"They said they wanted you off your feet as soon as possible," Sloan
continues as they descend the three steps to the pavement below,
studiously avoiding his gaze. "We wouldn't want to risk a relapse."

Giving up, Tom lets himself be tugged to the car and carefully tucked
in to the front passenger seat, Trevor and Sloan both hovering close by and
Shane behind them, a look of concern on his face. Finally reassured
that he's belted in, they close the door and climb into the back seat
of the car, Ed taking the driver's seat next to Tom. "This really
isn't necessary," Tom begins, but Ed stops him with a sympathetic
grin. "Face it, they're going to fuss over you whether you like it or not.
So give in and enjoy it."

Tom glances at the back seat of the car, where Shane, Sloan and Trevor
sit looking at him with identical frowns. "I'm all right," he insists.

"You are not all right, Tom Daniels," Sloan says sternly. "But you
will be, by the time we get through with you." Then, biting back a smile,
she turns to Shane. "Mrs. Peabody tells me she has a whole list of
home remedies she's come up with over the years, including ones for
headaches," she says conversationally. "She can't wait to see what
she can do for Tom."

"I'll bet," Shane responds, a grin breaking through despite his
struggle to keep his expression solemn. "Davey tells me she can be
a tyrant when you're sick. She bakes her special chocolate cake,
but you don't get to eat it until you've swallowed whatever medicine
she wants you to take."

"Sloan .... " Tom says warningly.

"Ed, shouldn't we be leaving?" Sloan asks, ignoring Tom and
checking her watch. "I told Mrs. Peabody we'd be home by
dinnertime, and I think she's decided to have something ready for
us when we get there."

Tom looks at Sloan with exasperation, and then at Ed, who raises
his eyebrows and turns his keys in the ignition, starting the car.
"Don't fight them, buddy," he advises with a chuckle. "You'll never
win."

~*~*~*~

Ellen Peabody takes one look at Tom's pale, strained face and
stands back from her place at the open doorway to Sloan's apartment.
"You need to go straight to bed," she says firmly. "I've already got it
turned down and ready for you."

"I'm fine," he reassures her. "Just a little tired."

"Men," she says with a grin, and rolls her eyes at Sloan, who
stands beside Tom, her arm around his waist. "They never know
when it's time to give in and admit that they're sick." Reaching out
to pat Tom on the arm, she shakes her head admonishingly. "I know
you think you're fine, Tom, but you're not .... anyone could tell that just
by
looking at you. A long rest in bed and a few doses of my tea will
be just the thing to fix you up."

"But .... " he begins, but she interrupts him with a quick nod
at Sloan and at Trevor, who stands at Tom's other side. "You
two help him get ready for bed while I get dinner on the table," she
instructs them. "I've had a little something cooking on your
stove ever since you called."

"It smells wonderful," Sloan says with a grateful smile, tightening her
arm around Tom's waist. "Thank you for this, Ellen."

"Think nothing of it," Ellen reassures her. "I'm glad I could help.
Now get this man into bed where he belongs."

Sloan and Trevor slowly escort Tom across the room to the bedroom,
and Ellen turns to Ed, Walter and Shane, who still hover at the doorway.
"You're Dr. Tate, aren't you?" she says to Ed, holding her hand out in
welcome.
"I heard you were here earlier, but kept missing you. It's nice to finally
get the chance to meet."

"I agree," he says with a bemused grin, shaking her hand. "I've heard
a lot about you."

"Some of it good, I hope," she says, grinning back at him.

"And this is Dr. Attwood, Mrs. Peabody," Shane says, introducing
Walter. "He's Ed and Sloan's boss."

"Ellen Peabody," Ellen says, shaking his outstretched hand. "It's good to
meet you, Dr. Attwood. Please, take your coat off and come in. You too,
Dr. Tate. There's plenty of food for all of you as soon as I finish
setting
the table."

"Thank you, but we can't stay," Walter says politely. "We're just here to
get Tom settled in, and then we have to go back to the lab."

"You're sure I can't persuade you to change your minds?" she asks, looking
at them brightly. "We've got Irish stew, fresh-baked bread, and my special
chocolate layer cake for dessert. As soon as I get a dose of my tea
into Tom, we can start."

Ed wavers, tempted by the mouth-watering smells coming from the
kitchen, and then looks at her with interest. "Sloan and Shane were
saying that you have home remedies you use. Do you mind my asking
which ones?"

"Ed's a medical doctor," Shane explains, taking his jacket off and dropping
it
on the chair near the door.

"A doctor!" Ellen's eyes brighten further, and she latches her hand around
Ed's arm, tugging him toward the kitchen. "I'd love to show you, if you
have the time. I'm using a little something I discovered at the local
health
food store years ago, and have sworn by ever since."

"What is it?" Ed asks curiously. "Some kind of herb?"

Walter, giving Shane a resigned smile, takes his coat off as well and
follows Ed and Ellen into the kitchen.

"Tree bark," Ellen explains, leading him to a clear glass pot of simmering
water on the stove. "Taheebo, from Brazil." Reaching for a bowl nearby
covered with cheesecloth, she carefully lifts the pot and drains the water
through
the cheesecloth, Ed hovering at her side. "It should clear Tom's headache
up
in no time, and then I'll dose him a few more times over the next
day or two to keep it away until he heals."

Ed bends down to breathe in the aroma of the cooked bark. "It smells
like cinnamon," he says with surprise. "What does it taste like?"

"Here, see for yourself," she urges him, handing him a small wooden
spoon.

Taking it, he dips it into the pot and lifts a small amount of the
liquid to his mouth, blowing on it carefully. "I should warn you," Ellen
says as he takes a sip, "it takes a little getting used to."

Ed's face takes on a peculiar expression as he holds the liquid in his
mouth, and then he slowly swallows, glancing at Walter. "You say you
give this to your family," he says carefully, and swallows again,
shaking his head a little.

"All the time," she says cheerfully, watching as the last of the
liquid drains through the cheesecloth and reaching for a small china cup
placed nearby on the counter. "At least I used to, when my husband
was still alive and all my boys were still living at home. With five men
in the house, there was always someone who was hurt or sick."

Walter, looking at Ed curiously, picks up another wooden spoon
nearby and tries a taste himself, his face going carefully blank as
he holds the liquid in his mouth and looks down at the spoon, and
then at the sink. Finally he swallows the small dose with a slight wince.
"Unusual flavor," he says a little hoarsely.

"My husband Jack always swore that it tasted like warmed-up guppy
water," Ellen says cheerfully, and grins at the expression
on Ed's face as he hastily opens Sloan's fridge door and pulls out a
bottle of water, spinning the cap off and drinking thirstily. "Now
Danny .... he's my oldest .... he kept saying it tasted just like water
from a dirty goldfish bowl," she adds with a chuckle, lifting the
cheesecloth off the top of the china cup. "And wouldn't you know,
he tried both once, as a taste test, just to see .... first the tea,
and then some water out of the fish tank he kept in his room." She
shakes her head with a reminiscent smile. "That boy always did
have a scientific mind."

Ed, watching Walter's face pale at this, stops drinking long enough
to reach into the fridge for a second bottle of water and hands it to him.
Walter accepts it gratefully, uncapping it and taking a long, desperate
gulp, and then another one, his usual dignity cast aside.

Ellen looks at them sympathetically. "My boys used to run and hide
as soon as they saw me making up a batch of this tea, and I can
understand it. It does taste awful, doesn't it? But it works every
time."

Ed and Walter both turn to look at her and then at each other, their
faces taking on a puzzled expression. "Does your throat feel .... ?"
Ed asks Walter.

"Numb?" Walter says, and nods his head. "And my tongue tingles."

"Good," Ellen says with satisfaction. "It's potent enough to do the trick.
I'll just let it cool down a bit for Tom .... in the meantime, Dr. Tate,
Dr.
Attwood, if I can't persuade you to stay, can I make you up dinners
to go?"

Ed's eyes are drawn to the freshly-frosted chocolate cake sitting
on the counter, and the pot of bubbling stew nearby. "We couldn't
ask you to," he says weakly.

"You're not asking .... I'm offering," Ellen says comfortably, and waves
a hand at Shane. "Davey's still working in the next room .... get him
to take you to my place and show you where my Tupperware containers
are."

"I really do appreciate this," Ed says, watching as Shane hurries off
to get Davey. "I usually live on take-out food or whatever I can find
in my fridge."

"Men," Ellen says, shaking her head as she gives the pot of stew
a quick stir. "It does a body good to get the chance to feed
you properly, believe me." Tapping the spoon briskly on the
side of the pot, she lays it down on the cutting board on the counter
and reaches for the cooling cup of tea. "While we're waiting for
Shane to come back with those containers, why don't we check on
Tom and Sloan? You can see how he's doing, and I can give him
his first dose of my tea."

"This should be fun," Ed says, grinning over at Walter. "Are you
coming?"

Walter shakes his head, holding the half-empty bottle of water up
"I think I'll stay here. I .... " Swallowing visibly, he raises the
bottle
toward his lips. "I think I may need more."

~*~*~*~

"Sloan, I can undress myself," Tom says patiently, standing beside the
bed as she carefully takes his jacket off, Trevor hovering behind her.

"I know, but let me do this," she says, frowning with concentration
as she hands Trevor Tom's black jacket and tugs the hem of Tom's sweater
out of his pants. "Lift your arms," she instructs, and Tom, sensing her
need to take care of him, lifts his arms in resignation and lets her pull
his sweater carefully over his head.

"There," she says, laying the sweater on top of the jacket in Trevor's
hands. "Now for the pants .... "

"Sloan," Tom says, dropping his hands to stop her before she can
unbuckle his belt.

"Tom, please," she protests, looking up at him.

"I know you want to help," he says gently. "But don't you think Trevor
might go see what he can do for Mrs. Peabody?" Giving her a significant
look, he nods towards Trevor, who looks up at them solemnly, his
hands full of Tom's clothes.

"Oh," Sloan says blankly, glancing at Trevor and then looking back
at Tom with pink cheeks. "Right. What a good idea." Turning,
she takes the jacket and sweater from Trevor, and touches him lightly
on the shoulder. "Tom's right .... I bet Mrs. Peabody could use your
help getting Tom's dinner ready for him."

"You're sure?" Trevor asks, looking at Tom with concern.

"I'm sure," Tom says, smiling down at him. "I'll see you later."

"Okay," he says, his mouth curving up in a small, grave smile, and he
turns to leave the bedroom, carefully closing the doors behind him.

"Sorry," Sloan says, turning back to Tom with a grin. "I guess I
wasn't thinking .... "

"You were fussing," he corrects her with a smile, and unbuckles his
belt. "I just thought it was time to stop you before you had me
completely undressed."

"I can't help it," she says, taking his pants from him as he removes
them, and his socks, and placing them carefully on the dresser nearby
as he climbs into bed, his T-shirt and shorts still on. "I worry."

"I know you do," he says, sinking his head back wearily on the pillow
and closing his eyes. "But don't. We're home, we're safe, and by
tomorrow I'll be back on my feet again."

"Tomorrow you'll be in this bed resting," Sloan says sternly, turning to
walk toward the bed and sit down on it facing him. "And the next day,
if your head still hurts."

Tom smiles silently, his eyes still closed, and reaches for her hand,
taking it in his. Leaning forward, Sloan smoothes the bedcovers over his
chest with her free hand and touches his cheek lightly with her fingers.
Tom drinks in her touch for a moment, savoring their moment alone, and
then opens his eyes to look up at her, bringing up the subject she'd been
studiously avoiding. "What's going on, Sloan? What are you planning
that you're afraid to tell me about?"

Sloan looks down at him ruefully, her lips curving in a reluctant smile.
"That's the problem with dominants," she says lightly. "You can't hide
anything from them."

"Sloan," he says quietly, ignoring her attempt at humor. "Tell me."

Meeting his eyes, she tightens her hold on his hand and nods. "I'm
the one who will be meeting with Jacob tonight .... not Sam."

Tom frowns. "Sloan .... "

"Sam's swamped at the lab," she says firmly. "He's trying to find the
traitor, he plans to work with Walter and Ed all night on the security
files, he still has to hash out his problems with Marcus .... he's got too
much on his plate to take time out for the meeting. But I don't, and
Jacob knows enough about me and our relationship to trust me."

"How did you convince Sam to agree to this?"

"He's assigned Jason Stuart and a group of his best men to safeguard
me," she reassures him. "I've promised to do exactly what they say
..... if Jason thinks the meeting's not safe, I agree to pull out, no
questions asked."

Tom looks at her wordlessly, his head tilted, his eyes knowing, and
she flushes a bright red. "I can follow orders when I have to," she
says defensively. His head tilts further, his mouth twitching, and she
nudges him lightly on the shoulder in protest. "I can, Tom Daniels,
and you know it."

"I know you can," he says, his expression sobering. "Promise me
you'll be careful."

"I will," she promises. "I'm no hero, believe me. I'll do whatever Jason
says." Looking at him silently for a moment, she rubs her thumb over
his knuckles. "I thought you'd fight me more on this," she confesses.

"I want to," he admits. "But you're right .... Sam's swamped, and I'm
not up to going myself, not like this." Drawing their hands up to rest
on his chest, he studies her intently. "I also know that you can do this.
You're strong, Sloan, and you're brave in the face of things most people
would run from. That's one of the things that drew me to you in the first
place."

Sloan looks at him, her eyes tender, and leans down to kiss him
lightly. "That's funny," she says softly. "I thought the same thing about
you."

A knock sounds at the bedroom door. "Sloan, is he decent yet?" Ellen
Peabody calls out brightly, and Tom and Sloan smile into each other's
eyes, Tom raising his head slightly to kiss Sloan back.

"He's decent," she calls out a moment later, her face flushed as she sits
up, her hand still held tightly in his. "Come on in."

The doors open to reveal Ellen carefully holding a china cup in her
hand, Ed hovering behind her with a secretive smile on his face.
"We've come to check on the patient," Ellen says cheerfully, "and
to bring him something that will help that headache of his."

"Is this that bark tea you told me about?" Sloan asks curiously, letting
go of Tom's hand and rising up off the bed to make room for Ellen
to sit down beside him.

"This is it," Ellen replies, holding up a china cup. "My Jack had
terrible headaches, and this was the one thing I found that worked
for him .... hopefully it will do the same for you, Tom. I've
let it cool a bit .... just take a bit at a time and hold it in your mouth
to absorb it under your tongue."

Tom props himself up against the pillows and takes the cup from her,
sipping the liquid carefully. "Interesting sensations," he says after a
second sip, his eyes meeting Ellen's.

"Interesting taste as well, wouldn't you say?" Ed asks blandly.

Tom shrugs slightly, and takes another sip. "I've had worse," he
says finally, resting his head back against the pillows for a minute.

"Worse?" Ed says slowly, his smile of anticipation fading. "What
could be worse?" Glancing over at Ellen, he gives her a sheepish
look. "No offense."

"None taken," she says, rising up from the bed and grinning over
at him. "I'll just go get your dinner and Dr. Attwood's ready.
Would you like a tray in here, Tom, or would you
like to sleep first and eat later?"

"I think I need sleep more than food right now," he says, giving
her a weary smile. "But thank you."

"You do that," she says comfortably. Turning to
glance up at Ed, she adds, "Dr. Tate, are you coming?"

"In a minute," he says absently, staring at Tom as he takes another
sip of the tea, and Ellen smothers a smile, leaving the bedroom to
get his meal ready.

"How can you have had worse?" Ed demands in a low voice
once he's sure she's out of hearing range. "It's disgusting!"

Tom glances up at him over the rim of the china cup. "Chameleon
training," he says succinctly. "Lewis had us live off the land and off
the streets in order to toughen us up. We ate and drank things that
you wouldn't touch. This .... " He looks down at the clear, cooling
tea and shakes his head. "This is nothing."

Ed winces. "The more I hear about your training, the more I'm
amazed that you survived it."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," Sloan says with a shudder,
staring down at Tom.

"And more able to survive Sloan's cooking," Ed says, his mouth
suddenly quirking with humor.

"Hey!" Sloan protests, turning on him. "I didn't notice you
complaining the last time I cooked you dinner."

"I was desperate for a home-cooked meal," Ed confesses with a
grin. "My standards were low .... "

Dodging her playful jab, Ed jumps back and hastily leaves the
bedroom for the safety of the living room, Sloan watching him go
with her hands on her hips. Tom, smiling at their antics,
bends his head over the half-empty china cup and takes another
careful sip.

~*~*~*~

"That was wonderful," Sloan says an hour later, savoring the last morsel
of chocolate cake left on her plate. "Absolutely wonderful."

Shane looks longingly at what's left of the cake and exchanges a quick
glance with Davey, who had put down his tools long enough to join
them for dinner. "Does your mother make cakes like this every day?"
he says in a low, awed voice.

"Just on Sundays, usually," Davey says with a sigh, leaning back in his
chair. "The rest of the time, she keeps trying to make us eat things that
are healthy for us," he adds with a grimace.

"If I didn't, you'd all be the size of a barn, the way you eat," Ellen says
tartly, knife hovering over the cake. "Anyone for seconds?"

"I shouldn't, but I will," Sloan says, a gleam in her eye as she holds her
plate out, and both Shane and Trevor raise theirs as well.

A small sound has Trevor hesitating, though, casting a confused look
over his shoulder. "Did you hear something?" he asks, frowning in
concentration.

"Hear what?" Shane asks, his eyes following Ellen's movements as she
cuts a generous piece for Sloan, and puts it on her plate.

"A squeaking noise," Trevor says, laying his plate back down on the
table. "I keep hearing it."

Shane listens carefully, and looks over at Sloan with a frown. "I
hear it, too."

Ellen casts a quick glance at Davey. "I think the jig is up," she says
with a grin. "I was hoping to wait until Tom was awake, but .... "

"I'm up," Tom says quietly, standing in the open doorway of the bedroom,
his black sweater and pants back on, his face tired but clear of pain.
"What
were you waiting for?"

"We have a surprise for you," Ellen says, rising out of her chair quickly
and striding over to him. "But first we'll get you settled on the couch
with some dinner .... I don't think you're up to sitting at the table yet."

"How are you feeling?" Sloan asks, following in Ellen's wake to stand
at Tom's side, her eyes studying him carefully.

"Better," Tom says with relief. "The tea worked .... my headache's
gone."

"I knew it would," Ellen says triumphantly, taking him by the arm and
steering him to the couch. "You'll have to keep taking it for the next day
or two, but as long as you do you shouldn't have any more pain."

"I can eat at the table," Tom protests, but Ellen shakes her head.
"You still need your rest .... the couch will be more comfortable."
Once Tom is settled on the couch, she lifts her head to glance over
at Davey. "You get the box from the next room while I get his dinner
ready."

Davey disappears through the doorway into the unfinished apartment
and emerges seconds later with a large cardboard box, holding it
carefully in both hands and placing it on the floor next to the dining
room table

"This is something that Sloan and I thought would help you boys
settle in here," Ellen explains, returning to the kitchen to ladle some
stew
into a bowl for Tom. "Something to have of your very own."

Trevor kneels down beside Davey, opens the flaps of the box cautiously,
and peers inside. "Oh," he says in astonishment, and looks up at
Sloan with round eyes as tiny sounds emerge.

"Go ahead," she urges him, and shares a smile with Ellen as Trevor
reaches into the box and lifts out a small calico kitten with both hands,
staring in awe as he holds it up in front of him. "There's one for you,
Trevor," Sloan tells him, joining him on the floor and reaching into
the box herself. "And one for Shane," she says, pulling out another
kitten and turning to put it carefully in Shane's outstretched hands,
meeting
his startled gaze with a grin.

"And," she adds, turning back to the box and pulling out a third
kitten, the same faded shade of calico as the rest, "one for Tom."
Rising to her feet, she cradles the kitten in her arms as she crosses
the room to him and then deposits it in his lap, her hands steadying
the small, wobbly body as it tries to get its balance. Tom reaches
for the kitten automatically to hold it in place, and stares down at
it blankly.

"Davey," Ellen prompts her son, and with a grin he disappears
into the unfinished apartment again for a moment and emerges with
a fourth kitten tucked against his chest, his large hands covering it
almost completely.

"This one's for you, Sloan," he says, prying its clinging claws away
from his shirt and handing it to her. "There were four in the litter, and
Mom couldn't bring herself to leave this one behind."

"Aw, look at you," Sloan croons, taking the kitten from Davey and
flashing him a wide smile of thanks as she tucks the kitten under her
chin, tickling it gently with her fingers.

"A friend of mine who runs an animal rescue shelter told me about
them," Ellen explains, putting Tom's bowl of stew down on the counter
and watching with amusement as Shane, obviously unused to pets,
loses hold of his kitten and it scrambles across the dining room table
in pursuit of cake crumbs. "Someone found them in a box down by
a creek near their house, just left there to starve, and brought them
into the shelter. Christine's been taking care of them, but her shelter's
full and she's grateful to think they've found a good home."

"What do we do with them?" Trevor asks uncertainly, holding his
kitten against his chest and feeling its sharp little claws dig into his
shirt as it mews loudly.

"You take care of them," she says encouragingly. "Play with them,
and feed them, and love them. Haven't you ever had a pet before?"

"No," he says, his voice muffled as he drops his head to stare down at
the kitten. "Some of the kids at school did, I think, but we weren't
allowed
..... " His voice trails off, and he looks up at Tom in confusion, afraid
of revealing anything he shouldn't.

"Trevor's parents didn't let their children spend much time with the
other children in the neighborhood," Tom fills in smoothly. "Shane and
Trevor
wouldn't have had a chance to be around any animals." Looking up
at Sloan with concern, he lifts his kitten in his hands and holds
it near his ear for a moment. "Sloan, I think there's something wrong
with this one."

"What?" she asks, coming over to sit beside him, her own kitten
tucked securely against her.

"It's ..... " He searches for the right word, holding the squirming
body in the air for a moment as he listens. "It's rumbling."

Sloan flashes a quick grin at Ellen, and then looks back at Tom,
her eyes twinkling. "It's purring," she corrects him. "Hold it against
your chest for a minute .... there, can you feel the sensation?"

Tom does as she asks, his face set with concentration. "Its whole
body is vibrating," he says a moment later, looking at her in surprise.

"That's because it likes being held by you," she explains with a
smile. "Stroke its fur and cuddle it, and it will purr as long as you let
it." Casting a look across the room at Ellen, she adds, "They didn't
have many pets where he grew up, either."

"Well then, it's about time he had one," Ellen says firmly, and
sets the bowl of stew and a plate of bread and butter on a tray
on the counter, along with a glass of milk. "Everyone should have
a pet at some point in their lives."

Lifting the tray carefully, she heads over to Tom. "Why don't you
take his kitten for now, Sloan, and we'll get some food into him?
In the meantime, Davey can help the boys make up a bed for the kittens,
and set out their litter boxes and toys. I've got all the supplies they'll
need in the next room."

"Litter boxes?" Shane asks in confusion, plucking his kitten up
just before it tumbles off the edge of the table.

Davey's eyes light up mischievously. "Are you in for a treat," he
says with a grin, and gets up from where he'd been kneeling beside
Trevor. "Come on, I'll show you what you'll need to know."

Shane rises up to follow, his kitten clasped to his chest, and
Trevor is right behind him, his face filled with curiosity, his
kitten tucked carefully in his arms. The two disappear into the
unfinished apartment next door, and Ellen smiles with satisfaction
at Sloan as she carefully sets the tray of food in Tom's lap. "It's
good to see them smile again, isn't it?" she says. "After that visit
from their mother .... well, I just thought they needed something
to make them feel better."

"It was a perfect idea," Sloan agrees, balancing her kitten in her
lap as she reaches for Tom's, placing it beside her on the couch.
It scampers back toward him immediately, though, standing on its
small back legs and reaching up to balance itself with its front paws
on his thigh.

Tom, pausing in the act of reaching for his fork, glances down
quizzically at the kitten, whose bright eyes are staring up at him,
its ears cocked forward. Moving his hand down, he touches the
kitten lightly on its forehead and watches as it bats at his finger and
then loses its balance, toppling backwards. His mouth curved
in a bemused smile, Tom rescues it before it can tumble off the
edge of the couch and restores it to a safe place tucked against
his leg, his fingers smoothing down its ruffled fur. Glancing up,
he finds himself being watched by two sets of amused eyes as
Ellen and Sloan grin at him fondly, and Ellen bursts into laughter
at the sudden look of awkward embarrassment on Tom's face.

"Men," she says, shaking her head, her eyes twinkling, and turns
back to the kitchen.

~*~*~*~

"When I called this meeting," Roger says, watching David take a seat in
the chair next to Judith's, "it was with the intent of coming up with
contingency plans for our attack Sloan Parker's apartment. That's
why we wanted you here, David, to help us requisition the supplies
my men will need."

"What kind of supplies?" David asks, opening his notepad.

"You'll find everything listed here." Rising slightly from his chair,
Roger passes a folded piece of paper across the desk to David. "With your
clearance and experience in working with chameleon teams, you
should have no trouble ordering these with no questions asked."

David raises his brow as he scans the detailed list. "Ambitious,"
he comments.

"We'll have to be, if we're going to pull this off," Roger says evenly.
"Tom
Daniels is a formidable opponent. We may, however, have gained an
unexpected advantage over him today."

"What?" Judith demands, her gaze sharpening. "Have you heard
something?"

"My surveillance team sent in a report late this afternoon," Roger
replies, permitting himself a small smile. "They'd seen Daniels and
Parker leave Marcus Adams' lab with the boys, and reported that
Daniels looked pale and unsteady, and seemed to need help getting
into the car."

"Do they know why?" Charles asks with a frown.

"They were able to pick up a little of the conversation. Apparently
Daniels was being sent home to rest, and had been warned about
a possible relapse .... from what, we don't know. There was no visible
sign of injury that my men could see, but he definitely didn't look well."

Charles and Judith exchange a quick look. "If he's sick, this is the night
to strike," Judith says flatly.

"My thoughts exactly," Roger agrees. Glancing over at David, he adds,
"That means we'll need that equipment now, within the next hour."

David folds the piece of paper carefully in his hands, using the time
to master his control over the sense of shock he'd felt at the
news that Tom had been hurt. "I'll get on it right now," he says finally,
looking up at Roger coolly. "How long will you be here?"

"All evening, if necessary," Roger says briefly. "Check in with me
once the equipment is ready."

"I will," David says, rising from his chair and nodding a brief farewell
to Charles and Judith. "Will you be needing me here tonight as well?"
he asks casually, turning to look at Roger.

"The less we're seen together tonight, the better," Roger responds,
looking up at him. "We don't want to tip our hand until the mission
has been completed. Just be where we can reach you by phone."

David nods silently and leaves the office, the folded paper gripped
firmly in his hand and one thought uppermost in his mind. He had
to warn Tom.

~*~*~*~

"So you're telling us that these gaps of time that Ed found in some
of the Council's security files on our staff can all be explained," Sam
says,
leaning back in his chair and staring at Marcus.

"Every one of them, unfortunately," Marcus responds, dropping his pen
on top of the pile of computer print-outs they'd been poring over.
"The Council's people no doubt saw them as suspicious, but in every case I
can show you records of what took place during those gaps .... some
of the time it was just a case of giving the person some time to recuperate
from a difficult mission, or I'd sent them on special surveillance courses
we didn't enter into the books."

"In other words, we've hit a dead end," Ed says, propelling himself back
from the computer terminal in Marcus's testing room and shooting Walter
a look of frustration. They had been hard at work for over an hour now,
methodically scanning each file for clues that might reveal who the traitor
was.

"The gaps are, but not the files themselves," Marcus says slowly,
thinking about what he'd seen in the files they'd examined. "I think
we're focusing on the wrong thing."

"What do you mean?" Walter asks with a frown.

"Instead of looking for obvious gaps in time, we should be looking
for a certain pattern of behavior. The traitor needs a way of contacting
whoever he or she is dealing with on the Council, right? Some method
of meeting and exchanging information that would seem completely
innocent to anyone watching them. So we should be looking for
regular visits somewhere, or to someone, for at least the last few
months."

"That would mean going through the daily surveillance logs of each
person," Ed protests. "Do you have any idea how long that would
take?"

"Longer than we have time for," Marcus acknowledges grimly. "The
only answer is to narrow it down to our two main suspects, Sarah
and Martin. We go through the logs on them day by day to see what
we can find, and then branch out to the other senior staff if we have
to. Ed, have you figured out how far back the logs go?"

"Six months," Ed says, checking his notes. "Any further back than
that, and they've reduced all the information they've gathered
into weekly summaries."

"Then I suggest we start now. Sam, you and Walter take Sarah's file,
and I'll start on Martin's." Turning to Ed, Marcus looks at him with
concern.
"Ed, you were up all last night breaking through the security codes ....
take
one of the beds in the infirmary to get some sleep. Now that you've
shown us how to break through the security codes, you should
get some rest. We'll come and get you if we need you."

"You're sure?" Ed says reluctantly. "I've pulled all-nighters before."

"Not two nights in a row, I imagine," Marcus points out. "Get some sleep.
There will be plenty of work left for you to do when you wake up."

"All right, then," Ed says, rising up out of his chair and stretching
slightly. "I have one request first, though .... I want to see Sarah."

"Ed," Sam says slowly, "I don't think it's wise for you to see her
while you're part of the investigation."

"I'm only asking for a few minutes, Sam," Ed persists. "Just long
enough to see how she is."

Sam glances at Marcus, who nods his head slowly. "Let him
see her, Sam. It can't do any harm."

Sam looks back at Ed. "All right, you can see her. Ten minutes.
No discussion of the investigation."

"Don't worry," Ed promises. "I just .... need to see that she's
okay."

~*~*~*~

"I haven't had a chance to ask," Tom says slowly, laying the tray and
empty dishes down on the floor and leaning back against
the couch's soft cushions. "Did I say anything during the regression
therapy session? Anything about my past?"

Sloan, curled up beside him, her kitten in her lap, looks
at him hesitantly. "A little," she acknowledges. "You talked about
the white room, and about Lewis."

"What did I say?"

Sloan glances away, her gaze ranging around the quiet apartment
as she gathers her thoughts. She can hear the murmuring voices of
Shane, Trevor and Ellen in the next room as the boys set up cots
Ellen had found for them in a corner of their roughly mapped-out
new rooms, their kittens tucked safely away in the cat bed Ellen
had bought for them.

"You were twelve years old at the time you talked about," Sloan says
quietly. "You said you were there because you'd been bad .... that
you'd tried to run away, and they'd caught you."

Tom frowns, his hand resting on the back of his kitten, still tucked
up, sound asleep, against his side. "Did I say why I'd run?"

Sloan shakes her head. "No .... just that you were in the room,
and that you were afraid."

"What else?"

"Lewis came in," Sloan says reluctantly. "You got very agitated
..... you said that he was there to hurt you."

"How?"

"Tom .... "

"Sloan, please," Tom says quietly. "I need to know."

"He had a needle with him," Sloan tells him. "And wires."

"Wires?"

"To put on you, you said," Sloan explains. "To hurt you."

Tom looks at her silently, his fingers flexing gently through the kitten's
soft fur. "What happened then?"

"That's as far as we got. You became more and more agitated when
Sam pressed you for details .... and when he tried to touch you to calm
you down, you jumped away and then collapsed on the floor."

Tom drops his gaze to the kitten, lost in thought. "Wires," he repeats,
almost to himself. "I knew Lewis used drugs, but I didn't realize .... "

Sloan touches his arm reassuringly. "Whatever he did to you, Tom,
you survived it. And you fought back .... the fact that you ran away
proves that."

Tom doesn't respond at first, his face shadowed as he slowly
strokes the sleeping kitten. "That was in the beginning," he says
in a low voice. "Later, I did what I was told. Lewis's punishments
were very effective."

Sloan, at a loss for words, leans against him silently, letting him
absorb the things she'd told him.

"Did it work?" Tom asks finally, looking up at her. "Did the shock
Marcus gave me disable the shutdown mechanism Lewis had
planted in me?"

"I don't know," Sloan confesses. "Things were so chaotic after you
collapsed that it never came up. Maybe Marcus can tell us more
tomorrow."

"If it did, I want to schedule more sessions .... " Tom says slowly,
and then stops, interrupted by the ringing of a phone nearby.
Tilting his head, he looks at Sloan. "It's my cell phone, I think.
In the pocket of my jacket. Sam gave it back to me just before
we left."

Sloan carefully lifts her kitten off her lap and onto the cushion
beside her before rising up off the couch to fetch the phone. Returning
with it outstretched in her hand, she gives him a stern look. "No
meetings," she warns him. "No deciding to go help someone.
Not until you're better."

Tom takes the phone from her silently, smiling at her fierce expression,
and answers it as she picks her kitten back up and sits down beside
him, tucking it in her lap. His smile dies away as he hears the voice of
one
of the women from David Anderson's answering service, and he listens
to the message she reads with growing concern.

"What's wrong?" Sloan asks, seeing the tension on his face as he ends
the call. "Who was it?"

"It was another message from Jacob," he says with a frown. "The meeting
is still on, but he's warning of danger."

"What kind of danger?"

"Danger here, to us, I think," Tom says slowly. "He was limited by
the code words we use, but I think he was warning me that the Bakers
and Roger Abbott are planning an attack on us here later tonight."

"Oh God," Sloan breathes. "We have to warn Jason."

"We will," Tom agrees, lifting his phone and punching in a series
of numbers. "Sam," he says, when Sam Anderson answers, "we've
got trouble. Jacob just called in to warn me that the men the Bakers
and Roger Abbott have watching us will be attacking later tonight.
Let Jason and his men know, so that they can be ready for it. And
Sam .... tell Walter to call Ray Peterson. If something does happen
and a passerby calls the police, we'll need him here to deal with them."

Sloan watches him anxiously as he ends the call. "We need to cancel
the meeting with Jacob tonight, Tom," she says distractedly. "Or get
Sam to go. I can't leave you and the boys here tonight, knowing what
will happen."

"Sloan," Tom says, dropping the phone beside him and reaching over
to take her hands in his, "we'll be all right. Jason already has men
watching the apartment .... they'll keep us safe. We need you at that
meeting to warn Jacob that the traitor might know about him. We
can't leave him hanging out there alone."

"I know we can't," she says, torn with indecision, "but how can I be
out there with him, not knowing what's happening to you?"

"Jason's men will be in touch with him the entire time," Tom reassures
her. "He'll be able to tell you as soon as anything happens."

Seeing the fear in her eyes, he releases her hands and pulls her into his
arms, holding her close. "You can do this," he says quietly into her
ear, and rubs her back soothingly with one hand.

Bringing her arms up to hold him tightly, she makes a wordless sound of
protest and buries her face in his neck. They stay still for a long,
silent moment before she nods and pulls away reluctantly. "What will
we do about Ellen and Davey?" she asks. "We can't put them
in danger like this, not without warning them what's happening."

"We'll tell them the truth," he says simply. "Or as much of the truth
as we can risk. And we'll ask for their help."

~*~*~*~

"Everything's in place," Roger says, glancing at his watch. "The
surveillance team is already in position, and the rest of the men are
at the safe house nearby, awaiting my orders. The plan is to go
in after midnight, when the street will be quiet and everyone inside
should be asleep."

"Did David get us the equipment we needed?" Charles asks.

"All of it," Roger confirms.

"We should let him know we're going ahead with the plan."

Roger shakes his head. "Not until the last minute. I'll call him just
as the assault gets underway."

"You don't trust him," Judith says, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"I don't trust anyone completely," Roger says evenly, leaning back
in his chair. "He did what we asked, and kept quiet. If he hadn't,
we'd be in custody by now for going against the order to leave Tom
Daniels alone. His part in this is over, though, and I see no need to
bring him back in."

"In other words, you don't want him getting any more credit for the
mission than he deserves, if it succeeds," Charles says perceptively.

"Why should I?" Roger responds. "We were the ones who came
up with the idea .... when we have Tom Daniels in our hands, or dead,
we're the ones the Head of the Council should be praising, not one of
Harris Templeton's flunkies. David served his purpose .... it's time
to cut him loose."

"Unless we need him again," Judith says, her lips curving in a cool
smile.

Roger shrugs lightly. "If we do, we'll find a way to draw him back in,"
he agrees.

~*~*~*~

"Sloan said you needed to talk to us," Ellen says, taking a seat
in one of the two chairs facing the fireplace, her eyes watchful.

"We do," Tom agrees, and waits until Davey takes his seat
beside her in the other chair, his body hunched forward in anticipation.
"We need your help, if you're willing to give it."

"Just ask." Ellen looks at Tom alertly. "There's trouble, isn't
there? Is it the boys' parents?"

"How did you know?" Sloan asks with surprise, sinking down
on the couch beside Tom.

"Something about the way that woman looked at you when she
was here," Ellen says frankly. "As though you were a problem to
be dealt with, once she had reinforcements to back her up."

Tom nods his head in agreement. "That's the way her kind work
..... she's ruthless, and so is her husband. We've been warned that
a team of men they've hired may break in here tonight to grab the
boys .... what we're hoping you'll do is agree keep Shane and Trevor with
you tonight, in your apartment with Davey to guard you, until
whatever happens is over."

"Shouldn't we call the police?" Ellen asks doubtfully.

Tom shakes his head. "We have no legal rights when it comes
to Shane and Trevor. If the police get involved, they'll have to hand
the boys over to their parents."

"What about the men who break in?" Davey asks. "Won't you
need help stopping them?"

"We have friends keeping watch on our apartment," Tom explains,
"friends that we hope will be able to stop anyone from getting in.
I'll stay here, in case anyone makes it this far. Sloan has a meeting
she has to go to, so she'll be well out of it. It's the boys who need
help."

"Tom." Shane stands in the doorway between the two apartments,
his face expressionless but his eyes full of fear. "Don't make me go."

"Shane," Tom says, cursing himself for being so caught up in his
explanations to Ellen that he'd missed sensing Shane's presence,
"I need to know that you're safe. I'll be all right here, as long as
I know that you and Trevor have Ellen and Davey to protect you."

Shane walks slowly into the room, his eyes never leaving Tom's.
"I won't leave you," he says stubbornly. "I know my parents ....
they want to hurt you as much as they want us back. I need to be
here to help you in case someone gets past your friends and in
here."

"Why would they want to hurt Tom?" Ellen asks, looking up at
Shane in confusion.

"Tom rescued us from them," Shane says starkly. "He saw that
we needed help, and he gave it to us, even when my father tried
to stop him. My father doesn't like to lose, or to look bad ....
Tom made him do both, and my father won't forgive him for that."

Tom gazes up at Shane. "Shane, Trevor needs you there to watch out
for him."

"Davey and Mrs. Peabody can keep him safe. You need someone
to watch out for you."

Sloan leans against Tom's shoulder. "He's right, Tom. He needs to
do this, and I need to know you're not alone here. Let him help
you."

Tom glances at her worried face, and then back up at Shane,
still standing in front of the fireplace, his face set in determined
lines. "Shane will stay here with me," he concedes. "Trevor will
go with Ellen and Davey, if they agree." He hesitates for a moment,
looking over at Ellen. "I realize what we're asking here. We're
putting you in the middle of something that's none of your business,
and we'll understand if you say no."

"Don't be silly," Ellen says briskly. "Of course we'll hide Trevor."
A gleam enters her eye as she looks at Tom consideringly. "In fact,
I have a better idea. I could take him to Mr. Carmichael's and
stay there with him .... that would free Davey up to stay here with
you and help you out."

"Mr. Carmichael's?" Sloan asks, frowning at her in confusion.
"In the basement?"

"It's perfect," Ellen says eagerly. "No one would think to look
there, and from what I've seen he sets up traps around his door
that can be triggered if anyone breaks in. Trevor will be safe
there, no matter what happens."

"Will he want to help?" Sloan asks doubtfully. "He *is* rather ....
suspicious of people."

"Not if he thinks they're in danger from someone stronger and more
powerful than they are," Ellen says matter-of-factly. "Or from some
evil force." Leaning forward, she looks at Sloan intently. "You're
sure he's not a dominant."

"Positive," Sloan says, biting back a reluctant smile.

"Then he'll want to help." Turning to Tom, Ellen asks, "Do you know
when this might happen?"

"Later tonight," Tom replies. "They'd want the street outside quiet,
and all of us asleep in bed, so that they'd have the element of surprise.
I'd say after midnight."

Ellen checks her watch, and then looks up at him brightly. "Then we
should all get in our places, and synchronize our watches, shouldn't
we?" Flashing Tom a grin, she confides, "I've always wanted to say
that."

Tom smiles back faintly. "I'm glad we could give you the chance."

~*~*~*~

Sarah is on her feet facing the door when Ed enters the room, her
expression
wary. Her eyes flash with surprise when she realized it's him, and
she seems to relax imperceptibly.

"Ed," she says slowly, glancing past him at the armed guard who stands
in the doorway. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting a friend," he says lightly, and turns to watch as the guard steps
back out in the hallway and closes the door, leaving them alone.
"I wanted to see how you were."

"I'm fine," she says automatically, tightening her clasped hands in front
of her. "I thought .... " Her voice trails off for a moment, and she sits
down suddenly on the single, spare bed sitting against the wall in the
small room. "I thought at first that Marcus or Sam were coming to
question me, but then I sensed human emotions, and wasn't sure who
it was."

"I was just here working late, and thought you might like to see a friendly
face," Ed says easily, taking a seat on the wooden chair placed
across from the bed. "I brought a gift, too, but they wouldn't let
me give it to you .... not until they've checked it out."

"A gift?" she says blankly.

"A piece of Ellen Peabody's famous chocolate layer cake," he explains,
and grins at her look of confusion. "Sloan's landlady," he explains. "She
told me you loved her chocolate chip cookies yesterday, so when she
gave me a piece of her cake today, I asked for an extra slice for you.
She said to say hello."

"That's very kind of her," Sarah says slowly, her brow clearing.
"She was very .... friendly when I met her yesterday."

"*Very* friendly," Ed echoes with a grin. "I just met her this afternoon,
and by the time I'd left she'd loaded me down with a full meal, the slice
of cake for you, and the promise of a bunch of recipes that 'even a man
could follow'. For someone not used to humans, you must have found her
pretty overwhelming."

"I did," Sarah confesses, and then flushes uncomfortably. "She was
very nice, but I'm not used to so much .... enthusiasm."

Ed tilts his head to one side, his grin widening. "Enthusiasm is a good
word for it," he agrees, and then sobers, examining her pale face. "How
are you really, Sarah?"

"I'm all right," she says slowly, smoothing her hands on her pant legs.
"I keep waiting to hear what's happening, but the guards won't say
anything." Looking up at him, she studies his face carefully. "Do you
know what's going on?"

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Ed says regretfully. "I'm not allowed to say
anything .... that was one of the conditions they set for letting me
meet with you."

"Oh," Sarah says quietly, and then nods her head. "I understand."
Falling silent, she stares down at the floor, and Ed gazes around him
at the stark room, devoid of anything but the chair and the bed.
"They could have at least given you something to read, or to work with,"
he says with concern.

"They don't trust me with anything," Sarah says simply, and shrugs
her shoulders. "I've been making good use of the time, though. I
managed to pull down some information before all this happened on
Tom's implant, so I've been sitting here going over it in my mind,
hoping to come up with something that could help. How is Tom,
by the way?"

"Much better," Ed says reassuring. "He's home with Sloan and
the boys and Mrs. Peabody, who was dosing him with some
medicinal tea when I left. All he needs now is rest."

"Good." She bites her lip, and stares out the window next to her
bed. "I was worried about him."

An uncomfortable silence falls over the room, Sarah lost in her
own thoughts and Ed watching her, unsure how to ease her fears.
"What had you come up with?" he asks finally, abruptly. "On the
implant, I mean. Did you find anything we could use?"

Sarah looks back at him in confusion, and then nods her head.
"I think so," she says slowly. "I found a schematic that explains
how the implant was constructed, and what it was made of. I was
hoping that we could work together to .... " Her voice trails off,
and she falls silent for a moment, her gaze dropping to the floor
and then rising up to meet his.

"Do you think that I did this?" she asks awkwardly. "Do you think
that I'm the traitor, Ed?"

"Sarah .... "

"I saw you looking at me, through the window. Before they came to
get me. When you smiled at me, I thought .... " Falling silent again,
she makes a helpless gesture with her hand. "I don't know what I
thought. I don't understand any of this."

Without thinking Ed leans forward and takes her hand in his. "Just
be patient," he says reassuringly. "They'll get to the bottom of this
and find out who the real traitor is, I promise you. And then you'll
be out of here, and we can get to work on that schematic you found."

Letting her hand lie still in his, she looks at him silently. "Then you
don't think it's me," she says finally.

"No." Ed squeezes her hand gently. "I don't."

Taking a deep breath, she hesitantly joins her fingers with his.
"Thank you. I needed to hear that."

"I know you did," Ed says, looking down at their linked hands,
and then smiling up at her. "That's why I came."

~*~*~*~

"It's time," Tom says quietly, standing at the front door of the apartment,
the others grouped around him. "If they have heat-seeking equipment
out there, they'll know every move we make. They'll be expecting
Ellen and Davey to leave together, and Sloan, they'll see you leave by
the front door. That leaves three of us here .... they'll assume that
it's Shane, Trevor and myself."

"When in reality the two figures they track leaving the apartment first
will be Ellen and Trevor, and Davey will stay here with you and Shane,"
Sloan surmises, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Heat-seeking?" Ellen asks, a stunned look on her face. "They'll be
that well-equipped?"

"I'm afraid so," Tom says, looking at her intently. "Are you sure you're
up to this?"

Ellen firms her chin, and tightens her hold around Trevor's shoulders.
"Don't you worry about me," she says grimly. "The more I learn
about these people, the more determined I get."

"All right, then," Tom says with a small nod. "You and Trevor go
first, down the back stairs to Mr. Carmichael's. He knows what time
you're coming?"

"To the minute," Ellen confirms. "He'll be waiting at his front door."

"Good." Tom turns to Sloan. "You leave by the front door five minutes
later to drive to the lab to meet Jason. His men will pull in behind you
after
a few blocks to deal with anyone following you." Tom reaches out to take
her hand in his. "You'll be fine."

"I know I will," she says, looking at him steadily.

Tom checks his watch, and nods to Ellen. "You two head down now,"
he says, and reaches out to touch Trevor on the shoulder. "Stay with
Mrs. Peabody until we call to tell you to come up again, all right?"

"I will," Trevor says, his eyes round, his kitten clutched to his chest.
He had insisted on taking it with him, and Tom and Sloan hadn't had
the heart to say no. "Be careful."

"I will," Tom promises, and stands back as Sloan bends down to give
Trevor a gentle hug. "I'll see you soon, I promise," she whispers in
his ear, and kisses his cheek before straightening up.

Opening the door, Tom checks the empty hallway and then lets
Ellen and Trevor through, watching carefully as they head for the
back stairs, Ellen's hand still resting on Trevor's shoulders. Once they
disappear from sight, he closes the door and turns to find Sloan
standing close beside him, her hand reaching for his.

"Why don't we do some work in the next room while we're
waiting?" Davey suggests to Shane, well aware of Sloan's need
to be alone with Tom.

"All right," Shane agrees, but he hesitates at Sloan's side for
a minute, looking at her with concern. "Sloan, I .... " At a loss for
words, he gives a small shrug, and she takes him in her arms, giving
him a fierce hug. "Watch out for him," she says quietly, lowering
her voice so that only he can hear.

"I will," he promises, and hugs her back before turning away
and following Davey into the unfinished apartment.

Sloan blinks back tears of concern as she watches him go, and
then turns to find Tom watching her knowingly. "He'll be all right,"
he says evenly. "We all will."

Nodding silently, she reaches for her purse and coat. "Do you
have any last messages for Jacob?" she asks, keeping her voice
steady.

"Just tell him everything I told you," he responds. "Be patient with him
..... he'll want to hang back for a while and assess the situation once he
senses Jason's men. Let him make the first move."

Sloan nods again, clutching her purse tightly to her chest. "Let him
make the first move," she repeats to herself, and bites her lip, looking
at Tom uncertainly. "Suddenly this doesn't seem like such a good idea."

"It's just nerves," he says reassuringly, cupping her cheek with one hand.
"I used to get them before each mission. You'll be all right once you're
there."

"You used to .... ?" she says with surprise, and then catches herself,
looking at him suspiciously. "Liar," she says at last, a reluctant grin
breaking out on her face, and she moves into his arms, pressing her
face against his neck as he holds her close. "I love you," she says
quietly.

Tom goes still for a moment, feeling an unaccustomed rush of
emotions. Fear for her, and pride, and love. Unable to speak, he
tightens his hold on her and stares out the window into the waiting night.

~*~*~*~

"That was the surveillance team we put on Martin," Sam tells
Marcus, putting away his cell phone.

"Did they find anything?"

"Nothing. He left here to help his sister with some car trouble,
they went back to his apartment for dinner, and she left half an
hour ago. No one else came or went, he didn't meet with anyone
else, and he didn't take any calls."

"What about his records?" Walter asks, frowning in thought.

"No unusual bank transactions, just the typical phone calls to
family and contacts in the movement." Sam shakes his head.
"It looks like he's clean."

"What do we know about the sister?"

Sam looks at him in surprise. "Why? You think that she could be
involved?"

Marcus shrugs. "I'm not taking anything for granted at the moment."
Searching through the files and papers scattered in front of him, he
digs out Martin's personnel file. "Which sister was it?"

"Meredith Donovan. One of my men recognized her."

Marcus nods slowly. "He would .... she's very active with the
movement on a grass-roots level." Staring down at her picture in
Martin's file, he searches his memory. "She's two years older than
Martin, but from what I remember they were very close. Both
take after their parents .... smart, ambitious, and completely
devoted to the cause. I can't believe that she .... "

Catching himself, he straightens up in his chair with a grimace of
annoyance. "Call your men back. Have them investigate her ....
starting with where she went when she left Martin's place."

Sam exchanges a concerned glance with Walter. "How far are you
going to take this, Marcus? We have clear evidence implicating
Sarah, and nothing on Martin but Sarah's suspicions."

"Circumstantial evidence," Marcus corrects him.

"We're also stretched thin when it comes to men we can spare for
another surveillance," Sam reminds him. "Jason's got a team with
Sloan, he has another one set up at Tom and Sloan's place, and a third
watching Martin."

"Stretch them thinner," Martin says, picking up his pen and reaching
for another set of daily logs on Martin's activities. "I want a
twenty-four-
hour watch set up on Meredith Donovan, starting now."

~*~*~*~

David Armstrong stands at the top of the hill, hidden by a large
stand of trees, watching her stand there patiently, looking out
over the lights of the city.

He'd recognized her immediately, her hair lit by the moonlight, her
slim figure outlined by the lights below. He'd seen photographs
of her in Tom Daniels' file, taken surreptitiously on the streets of the
city where she worked and lived, and studio shots taken from
her college and work files. Sloan Parker has come in Tom's
place.

She hasn't come alone .... he can sense the team of men guarding
her, spread carefully around the perimeter of the hillside, and he
can feel the determination of their leader, who waits in the secluded
spot closest to where she stands, to keep her safe. Their intent
is only to do that, though. David has been here for fifteen minutes,
watching them, knowing that they've been watching him in turn and
letting him set the pace of the meeting.

Taking his hands out of his jacket pockets and in clear sight to
indicate his peaceful intent, he begins the walk down the hill.
Sloan Parker turns around as she hears his footsteps
approach, and darts an involuntary glance toward the team leader
hidden nearby before returning her gaze to David's face.

"Jacob?" she asks uncertainly.

"Yes."

"I'm .... "

"Sloan Parker," he says. "I know. I recognized you from your
pictures." Reaching her side, he glances around him at the bushes
concealing her team of bodyguards. "Is Tom all right?"

"He will be," she says. "He was hurt in an accident earlier today
..... that's why he couldn't be here."

"What happened?"

"He was electrocuted this morning during a test he'd agreed to take part
in. We think the traitor sabotaged the computer program being used in
the test in order to kill him and stop the investigation." Sloan shivers
slightly. "Fortunately, we were able to revive him."

David frowns. "If they tried it once, they'll try it again."

"Not if they can't get to him," Sloan says firmly. "He's got protection
around the clock now, and doesn't plan to get caught off-guard again."

"Did he get my warning about tonight?"

"He did," she confirms. "Marcus's men are watching the place, ready
to move in if they have to, and the boys are safe." Her voice wavers a
little at the end, and David looks at her perceptively. "But you're
still afraid for them," he observes.

Sloan bites her lip. "It's hard not to be," she confesses, and then
squares
her shoulders. "That's not what I'm here about, though. Tom wanted me
to pass on a warning of his own." Pleating her hands together in front
of her, she looks at him with concern. "He thinks that the traitor might
know who you are. Tom accidentally let your real name slip during a
conversation with Sam Anderson, and he's afraid it was picked up by
one of the bugs planted in our lab."

David looks at her silently, and then turns away to stare out over the
city. "I was afraid of that," he says finally. "I was told this afternoon
that
the traitor thinks he has that conversation on tape." He shakes his head
grimly. "They can't be sure because there's too much background noise
on the tape, so they've asked me to clean it up as soon as they can get
their hands on it."

"Then you can destroy the tape," Sloan says urgently. "Or damage
it in some way, before they find out about you."

"I don't know what I'm going to do yet," David responds. "I'm hoping
to make the sound worse without being detected, but it depends on
how poor the quality is to begin with. I can't make it look too obvious."

"Tom wants you to know how sorry he is, and that if you want out, he'll
get you out .... or at least Marcus Adams' men will." Sloan puts her hand
on his arm. "You don't have to risk your life over this. You've already
helped us enough."

David looks back at her searchingly. "Is it enough?" he asks.
"Enough to make up for all the years that I believed in what the Council
was doing?" He stares back out over the city lights. "Tell Tom I'm going
back into the Council offices tomorrow. If I can, I'll damage the tape
enough that they won't suspect me. If I can't .... ask him to take care
of Laura for me."

"Jacob .... " Sloan says, tightening her hand on his arm. "There has
to be a way .... "

The sudden, strident ringing of David's cell phone interrupts her, and
she falls silent, standing back as he takes the phone from his pocket and
answers it quietly. "Yes," he says, turning to look at her as he listens
to the voice on the other end, his hand tightening around the phone as
he listens to the brief message. "When?" he asks tersely.

"What is it?" Sloan asks uneasily as he ends the call, holding the
cell phone in his hand and staring at her.

"They've launched the attack on your apartment," he says starkly.

~*~*~*~

"Delays like this make me think that the usefulness of this
arrangement may be coming to an end," Harris Templeton says
reflectively, staring out the tinted glass windows in the back
seat of his black sedan.

"Not if you want this mission to succeed." His contact, seated
next to him, looks at him coolly. "There was a problem. Martin
handled it, and I've brought you the tape. You have nothing
to worry about."

Harris tilts his head in thought. "But how did he handle it?
Effectively enough that they'll believe the evidence he planted?
That they'll turn on one of their own?"

"She's a fourth of four," his contact says dismissively. "They may
profess to want to live with the humans and even accept some of their
values, but when it comes down to basic beliefs they won't be able
to shake off their true natures. They've already turned on her ....
all he did was give them the excuse they'd been waiting for."

Harris turns to gaze at the set expression of the woman beside
him, and the determination in her eyes. "It continually surprises me
that your parents failed so badly with you," he says wryly. "It must
pain them, raising you to believe in peace with the humans as fervently
as they do and then discovering that you are true children of the
Council."

"They have no idea," she says tightly. "But they will, when we succeed."

Harris smiles faintly. "But will you? You've admitted that your brother
is now under suspicion, and that his attempt to stop the investigation
failed.
You *think* that Marcus Adams will believe the evidence against Sarah
Fielding, but you have no guarantees." He shakes his head. "I have no
interest in wasting my time on a lost cause."

"Any suspicion they have will soon die out. Martin has never been seen
with you, or talked to you or any other member of the Council. The men
Marcus Adams has watching him will find nothing. All that's left is Sarah
Fielding, the evidence we planted, and the disgrace of her birth."

"What if Adams' men begin to investigate you?"

"Why should they? I'm a respected member of the movement, with years
of dedicated service behind me. My parents, as you point out, are well-
known for their peaceful beliefs, and for raising their children to live
among
the humans. It wouldn't occur to them that I could be a party to
betrayal."

"Not even if they come up with something that implicates your brother?"

"If they do, he'll be of no more use to me or to you." She shrugs
slightly.
"I assume you'd eliminate him to protect yourself, but I see no reason why
you and I can't continue with our plans."

Harris looks at her assessingly. "It seems that I was right. You truly
are
a child of the Council."

She meets his gaze evenly. "Our parents robbed us of our true place in
our species with their pathetic beliefs in coexistence. I intend to right
that
wrong, and wiping out the peace movement is the first step. Don't ever
doubt my intentions, or my effectiveness."

Harris nods slowly. "I won't, as long as you don't give me cause. Your
brother, on the other hand .... "

Meredith Donovan smiles faintly. "Let me handle Martin."

~*~*~*~

There were more men than Tom had counted on.

They came silently through the back streets and alleys, emerging from
the shadows to surround the building, outnumbering the team that Jason
had put in place to stop them. The fight outside is quick and brutal,
Jason's men taking out as many of the enemy as they can, but still
some slip through.

"Hide in the bedroom," Tom tells Davey and Shane tersely. "Shane, you
stay back .... Davey, take up a position near the bedroom door. If anyone
gets past me, start firing and don't stop until they're down."

Davey, taking Tom's gun, nods wordlessly. His father had taught him
to shoot when he was a boy, he'd assured Tom, and he checked the
magazine of the automatic with the ease of practice. Moving swiftly,
he takes up position next to the partially-closed bedroom doors,
and Shane disappears into the shadows of the dimly lit space beyond.

Tom, fighting his body's weakness, stations himself next to the open
shelves next to Sloan's apartment door, ready to spring on whoever enters.
He can sense the approach of men on the stairs, and hears a muffled
explosion in the basement of the building where others have run into
some of Mr. Carmichael's booby traps.

A sudden flurry of noise on the stairs tells him that Jason's men
have caught up with the intruders, intent on stopping them, and he
takes the chance to look toward the bedroom and nod a warning to
Davey, who nods back and quietly cocks the pistol. Tom flattens
himself back against the wall, masking his thoughts in an attempt
to avoid detection by anyone who gets past Jason's men.

Two men do. Tom tenses as the front door is blasted in
and the intruders enter in tandem, one crouching low, the second
one behind him and to one side, both scanning the room, guns held
ready to fire in their outstretched hands.

Tom moves swiftly, knocking the standing dominant off-balance
with his body and reaching for the crouching dominant's neck, snapping
it quickly with his hands before the man has time to resist. The
standing dominant crashes against the display cabinet on the other side
of the doorway, his gun dropping to the floor with the impact and firing
harmlessly into one of Sloan's chairs. Tom is on him as the
dominant struggles to recover, his hands going for the man's throat,
but Tom's burst of energy has faded and he misses, his hands grasping
at the man's shoulders harmlessly.

The dominant takes advantage of Tom's mistake, tripping
him with his foot and knocking him to the ground. On top of
him in an instant, the dominant reaches for Tom's neck, but Tom
manages to deflect him, moving his arms up swiftly to protect himself.
His rapidly failing strength hampers him, though, and he can't stop
the man from reaching for his neck a second time.

The dominant, intent on Tom, only senses Davey's presence behind
him at the last second, but his reaction is instinctive. Before Davey
can press the barrel of his gun against the dominant's neck, the man
lets go of Tom and swings a fist out forcefully, knocking Davey across
the room with one blow.

Tom tries to take advantage of the interruption, struggling to free himself
of the man's weight, but the dominant is taller and heavier than him
and is rearing up over him again. Tom brings his arms up one last time
in a vain effort to protect himself, but before he can the dominant
suddenly glances over his shoulder and then slumps down on top of Tom, felled
by the weight of the wrought-iron lamp Shane slams down on his head.

Before Tom can react, both he and Shane sense the rapid approach
of more men, and Shane drops the lamp and scrambles for the dominant's
gun, bringing it up to fire at whoever comes through the door. "No!"
Tom shouts at the last minute, and Shane's finger freezes on the trigger
as he senses what Tom has .... that the men outside the door mean them
no harm.

The first one through the door has his gun drawn and comes in at
a crouch, his eyes scanning the room and quickly taking in the sight
of Tom and the fallen dominant on the floor, and Shane kneeling
beside them, still pointing the gun at the door. "Don't fire," the man
snaps. "Jason sent us."

Shane nods wordlessly, lowering the gun to the floor and sinking
back on his heels, his breathing coming in pants.

"Anyone hurt here?" the man asks tersely.

"Tom is," Shane says urgently, reaching to tug at the dominant
lying on top of Tom. "And Davey, over there."

The man moves swiftly into the room to help Shane, directing
another member of his team over to check on Davey, and
the three hovering in the doorway to check the rest of the
apartment and the back stairway.

"Did you get everyone?" Tom asks weakly as they pull the dominant
off him and onto the floor on his stomach. The team leader nods
briefly, binding the hands of the unconscious dominant behind his back.
"They put up a fight .... we lost six of our own men. But we got
them all in the end, most of them dead, a few of them taken alive.
We're already clearing them away .... if and when the police arrive,
they won't find anything, and your man Ray Petersen is down there
to answer any questions they might have."

"What about the boy in the basement?" Tom asks urgently, sitting up
slowly with Shane's help, his knees drawn up in front of him.

"Safe, I think," the team leader says, and shook his head in amazement.
"The old man down there took out quite a few of the attackers himself."

"How's Davey?" Tom asks, looking over at Ellen Peabody's son with
concern.

"Unconscious, but he'll be okay," the man hovering over him says.
"He's got a strong pulse, and a bump on his head. He should be coming
around soon."

"Good," Tom says, closing his eyes and resting his head on his knees.

"Tom, you need to lie down," Shane says urgently, but Tom shakes his
head, keeping it lowered. "I'll be all right," he says, his voice muffled.
"Just give me a few minutes."

"Lie back, Mr. Daniels," the team leader instructs, putting a hand on his
shoulders and gently urging him back to the floor. "Let my med tech
check you out."

Tom lets himself be pushed back down, and the man who had checked
on Davey comes over to kneel beside him, examining him for injuries. "I
heard about what happened to you earlier at the lab," the med tech says.
"How do you feel?"

"Dizzy," Tom says briefly. "My headache is back."

The med tech glances at the body of the dead dominant nearby, his
neck clearly broken. "You did that?" he asks as he flashes a light into
Tom's eyes. Tom nods silently, and the med tech leans back on his
heels, staring down at him. "You shouldn't have been able to get out
of bed, let alone fight anyone off. Your heartrate is elevated, your
pupils are slow in focusing .... if I had my choice, I'd have you back
at the lab overnight for observation."

"I'm staying here." Tilting his head, Tom looks up at
Jason's team leader. "Have you checked in with Jason yet?"

The man shakes his head, reaching for his cell phone. "I'll do that
now. Any message you want me to give him?"

"Let me speak to him when you're finished." Tom sits up again,
Shane staying by his side to support him, and reaches for the phone
once the team leader finishes briefing Jason on what had happened.

"Are you all right?" Jason asks tersely.

"We're okay," Tom assures him. "How's Sloan?"

"Safe here with me and Jacob."

"Good." Tom pauses, looking up to see Trevor and Ellen Peabody standing
in the doorway, their faces white with strain. "I want you all back here,
even Jacob. We need to meet and plan our next step."

"What are you thinking?"

Tom watches as Ellen rushes over to her son's side, dropping down to her
knees on the floor beside him just as he begins to come to. "I think it's
time we stop reacting, and start striking back," he says evenly.

The End

Author's Note: My very grateful thanks to Diane S., who came up
with the idea for the kittens weeks ago and very generously passed
sent me a written version of how the scene might go (I'm sorry it
took me this long to find a place for it!), and to my friend Anna, who
swears by taheebo tea as much as Ellen Peabody does, who took the
time to tell me how to prepare it and what it would do, and who is
eternally patient in the face of my continued reluctance to actually try
it myself.

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