April moved down the hallway as quickly and stealthily as she could towards the heavy wooden door at the end. She was barefoot and clad in only a cream colored slip. Obviously, she had been drugged; she didn't remember being brought here (wherever here was). She had awoken on a slab wearing her lingerie, disoriented and alone. Her lock pick hidden in her slip's hem gained her freedom from the room and now she was searching for a way out of what she was starting to think of as a fortress, all grey stone and dark stained wood. She had heard nothing nor had she seen anyone. Her adrenaline was screaming through her veins, she wanted to run full tilt for the door, snatch it open and keep running to safety. The only thing that kept her walking was not knowing what was on the other side.

She made it to the end of the hall without incident. She listened with her ear against the door for what felt like a year, but was only about ten seconds. She couldn't hear anything, but she realized that could be because of the door's thickness.

She bent down and inserted her lock pick. Illya would be proud, she thought, his tutoring has made me almost as good at cracking a door as he is. She heard a satisfying snick and she slowly turned the knob. The first thing she saw was Mark tied to a slab by ropes binding his wrists and ankles. Another step inside and she could see Illya tied the same way to an identical slab. Both men's mouths were taped shut. Before she could do anything, a black figure appeared seemingly out of nowhere between the slabs near the men's feet.

"So, Miss Dancer, welcome to your defining moment."

"What are you talking about? Who are you and why have you kidnapped us? What do you want?"

The figure was tall, the black robe had a hood that was pulled so far forward, the person's face couldn't be seen. She only knew it was male because of his deep voice. "You see that I have these men that you are loyal to as my prisoners. If you will look above them, you will notice that there is a bucket above each man's face. It's filled with acid and one of these men will die a horribly painful death. You get to decide which one with this." A long black sleeve moved up to reveal an almost skeletal hand holding a knife. "You must use this knife to cut one man loose. That is all you'll have time to do before the acid falls. If you try to attack me, the acid will fall and kill both men. If you refuse to do it, the acid will fall and kill both men. I will place the knife on the floor. You will have ten seconds to pick it up. As soon as you touch it, you will have ninety seconds to cut a man free before the acid falls. I suggest you cut his hands free so he can sit up and avoid being burned."

"You're psychotic! Why are you doing this?"

"I told you: This is your defining moment. You have to decide: Are you Slate's partner or are you Kuryakin's lover?" He bent down and placed the blade on the floor equidistant from the two slabs. "Your time starts now," he said as he moved back into the shadows while the sound of a ticking clock began to echo through the room.

April leapt forward and grabbed the knife handle which caused the ticking to stop for two seconds and then begin the second countdown. She looked wildly at both men and saw the truth for herself; she could only free one. Tears started to sting her eyes as she turned to start cutting the knots that bound an arm. She was able to free the arm and he tried to get out of the acid's path, but couldn't with his other arm still tied. She leaned across him and sawed at the ropes while he tried to help by yanking hard, hoping it would give and give the other man a chance.

The ropes broke and she slid off him and yanked him upright and forward and turned just in time to see the acid hit. She began screaming hysterically, "No! No, no, no, no…"

"April! April, wake up!"

Her eyes shot open and her right hand was pulling her Special from under her pillow before she was completely awake.

Mark's lightning reflexes kicked in and he grabbed her wrist gently. "It's me, Love, it's me. You're safe, we're safe. We're in our hotel room. Wake up, Partner."

Her consciousness caught up with her body and she recognized where she was. Accounting had struck again and she and Mark were sharing a room and a bed. "I'm sorry, Darling. I was having a nightmare. Did I wake you?"

The Brit snorted, "Me and the rest of the floor! You were screaming bloody murder!" He put his arm around her and hugged her tightly for a few seconds. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I'm alright, Darling. I'm going to try to get back to sleep."

"Fine, Love." Mark moved so that she was resting on his chest. "You get some rest."

She nodded and closed her eyes. She couldn't tell him about that dream. It felt too real, too horrible. The worst of it was that she didn't really know who she had chosen to save; the face had gone blurry on the man whose bindings she'd cut and the acid…

She shuddered.

Mark felt it and hugged her again. "That's what 'appens when I tell you about my 'Alloween costume right before bedtime; puts bad ideas in your 'ead."

"I guess. Goodnight, Darling." She closed her eyes and prayed, Please, God, please. I never want to have to make that choice.