Command Performance

(with special thanks to jtbwriter, for her encouragement and inspiration)

Chapter One

Jaime saw it first, and laughter doubled her over, causing her to block Steve's path and keep him from seeing it too.

"Sweetheart?" Steve grumbled. "It's the middle of the night, we haven't had coffee yet, and Oscar just isn't the fake mustache type, so what's so funny?"

Jaime was laughing way too hard to answer, so she stepped into Oscar's office, making room for Steve to follow. Wiping tears of hilarity from her eyes, she pointed to the wall beside the big desk. "It - it's Boffo!" she gasped, sinking into a chair and still giggling.

"No, it isn't," Steve insisted, glaring sleepily at the too-familiar clown suit that was hanging from a coat hook. "Boffo retired months ago, and good riddance!" He moved slowly toward the suit, unsure as he reached for it if he meant to toss it in the garbage or drop it on the floor and stomp on it. Once it was in his hands, though, Steve, too, began to chuckle. "Uh...Jaime?"

"Yes, Boffo?"

"I..." (snicker, chuckle) "think this belongs to you."

Jaime looked up to see her fiancé holding tights and a tiny tutu, a evil grin spreading across his face. "Oscar," she groused, "there'd better be some awfully good donuts with that coffee." She looked around, realizing that Oscar wasn't there, but someone else was. "Charlotte? Where's Oscar?"

Charlotte Brown stood off to the side, pouring coffee. The young NSB agent looked slightly sheepish, knowing Jaime and Steve were not going to be thrilled with their pending assignment. "He and Jack will be back in a few minutes."

Jaime reached up to grasp the hand that offered coffee. "It's great to see you. But, did it have to be in such close proximity to...that?"

Steve also smiled at the young agent. "Getting Jaime back into a tutu ain't gonna happen. Believe me; I've tried."

"Steve!"

"Good morning!" Oscar said, briskly striding toward his desk, doing his best to ignore the unhappy faces of his operatives. Jack Hansen followed him, silently closing the door and taking a seat.

"It's the middle of the night," Steve helpfully pointed out.

Oscar smiled. "You've already found your outfits. Good. We're already running late. Now -"

"I am not getting back on a tightrope," Jaime insisted. Oscar merely raised his eyebrows, and she scowled in response.

"I trust you remember Lucretia Daminov," Oscar said, looking at Jaime.

"Lucy?" Jaime knew Oscar was talking about the woman who had taught Jaime the basics of tightrope-walking, one very tense afternoon before a previous assignment that had sent both Jaime and Steve off to join the circus.

"That's right."

"Did...something happen to her?"

"Not to her; at least not yet. Lucretia took over as the new head of your former circus troupe," Oscar explained.

"After Lou's untimely demise," Charlotte added. Charlotte would know; she was the one who'd shot him, saving Jaime from the bullet Lou had been a split second from firing into her brain. Jaime had been on her knees, in the corner, and at first she'd believed the sound of the shot meant she was dead. Jaime and Steve were in no hurry to return to the circus.

"Lucy needs our help," Charlotte pleaded quietly.

"There have been several accidents -" Oscar began.

"Accidents?" Jaime asked, alarmed.

"It appears someone feels this troupe should be disbanded."

"Go dark," Jaime corrected, "for good."

"You see," Oscar pointed out, "you know all the terms -"

"Lingo," Jaime said grimly. "But that doesn't mean -"

"You already know the ropes."

Jaime groaned. "That was bad, even for you."

"What?" It took Oscar a moment, then he smiled, just a little, in spite of himself. "Oh. Sorry. But I think you can see why you're the best choice for this assignment."

"Besides," Steve added, "you look absolutely stunning in that little skirt."

"You aren't helping, Boffo." Jaime turned directly to her boss. "They've been having accidents, and you wanna put me back up on a damned tightrope?"

"Charlotte will be acting as a sort of 'advance woman' for the troupe," Oscar told them. "She'll provide the means for you to contact me. I need the two of you to go in, ascertain the source of the threat and put a stop to it."

"Is that all?" Jaime grumbled.

"You know I've got your back, Sweetheart," Steve reminded her. "I will definitely be watching closely."

"Ha ha."

When they were ready to go, Oscar saw his two operatives onto the elevator, met for a short time with Charlotte and Jack, and then walked Charlotte out, as well. Oscar reflected to himself that Charlotte - at 23 - was very young for such important, dangerous work, but she was extremely intelligent and her nerves were rock-steady. She'd encountered Steve and Jaime on their first odyssey into circus life, she'd convinced the OSI's two top operatives - who did not bluff easily - that she was a 15-year-old Soviet girl. Oscar had no worries when it came to this young woman's abilities.

"You didn't tell them?" Jack asked quietly, when the two men were alone.

"I told them everything they need to know," Oscar answered.

"They don't know, do they? About you and Lucretia?"

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