Summary: Nightmares are not an uncommon occurrence for Remy. She's quite used to them, especially the longest running one in her life. It is just another reminder of the many reasons she has made some of the choices she has in her life, even if her desires did not align with her decisions. Combating herself never leaves McGinnis in the best of moods, but there are ways to distract oneself from one's thoughts, even in space.

A/N: As usual, many thanks to the lovely Chyrstis for ALL her amazing help with this chapter. Your patience and assistance with this troublesome section was very much appreciated.

Free to Be

04 Limitations

-1-

The sun was bright in the cloudless sky and the gentle breeze carried with it the scent of Mrs. Finkelstein's roses, which were just starting to bloom, but most of that was lost on the six-year-old girl. Remy's mind was centered on the fact that her mother had allowed her to wear her black patent leather tap shoes on the way to dance class. She was never allowed to wear them anywhere but in the studio; it was one of the rules. There was no rhyme or reason to it, but Remy's joy bubbled over when Roisin had pulled out the shoes before they left home and tied the ribbon laces in a big looping bow.

The metal taps vibrantly rang on the concrete as she spun and flitted beside her mother, whose hand held hers loosely. As the two traversed the six blocks to Miss Lu's little studio. Remy was oblivious to almost everything except the sound her taps made against the ground-sharp clicks and scratching shuffles. But one thing she would never forget about that afternoon was the bright smile her mother gave her as the girl thoroughly enjoyed their walk. Remy would recall the peal of Roisin's laughter as her daughter performed a silly little display just for the two of them.

Those were the memories from that day that the boss did not mind returning, but those never came without the others. They went hand-in-hand with things she still could not shut out or forget even nearly twenty-some-odd years after the fact. Like the sudden look of panic in her mother's eyes as the smile faded with the squeal of tires and the ring of copper shells on the pavement competing with the rhythm of her own steps. But all of those things paled in comparison to the weight of her mother's body on hers as Roisin covered Remy protectively.

Begging. That was another thing she remembered vividly. Begging her mother to wake up as she stroked her hair and sang the lullaby her mother always sang to her. The girl prayed and cajoled, trying to bargain with God not to take her Mama to heaven because she needed her more. She even went so far as to offer to pay attention in catechism classes if only God would just make Mama wake up. Her screams and cries for help and her pleas to God fell on dear or closed ears. It was all in vain.

No one knew how long she sat there. Even after she heard her father's voice yelling her name, her mother's name. The girl just kept singing, hoping that maybe it would make something happen. Remy could recall the tightness of her brother's arms around her as he literally had to pull her off their mother. Then Perry had hugged her so tightly that she felt like she might be crushed.

The screech woke her. As Remy looked around the darkened bridge she realized she was the one who had screamed. The boss leaned her forehead on her arm, which she rested on the console near her chair. Her heart was racing and she was breathing heavily-the traces of anxiety from the dream still quaking her nerves. In that moment, she could hear it again-that resonant voice warning her that all this would happen. Even in her own head Zinyak was still taunting her.

He's like you. Says something and does it, she thought. Her threats were not idle. It had been foolish of her to think that his would be. But at the same time it seemed far-fetched that he could actually destroy Earth. It seemed beyond her at the time, even now it seemed past the mark. When the hatch opened with a swish, she turned quickly, barely straightening to see who her little yelp had disturbed.

"Everything okay?"

Part of her was glad she could not see his face. The brightness from the simulation room back lit him in such a way that she could not read any expression or clearly see his electric blue eyes. At that moment she found it a distinct advantage for both of them. Since she could not read Matt in that moment, she could not be upset at anything she might see there.

"Nothing I can't handle," she replied softly.

"Nightmares?"

"Its fine, Matt. Sorry I bothered you."

"I was going to make some tea. Would you care to join me?" He hitched his thumb over his shoulder, ignoring her offer to let him escape unhindered by her distress.

Remy stared at him. His consideration was endearing and frightening. The boss knew she did not need more temptation to act stupidly, not in her currently edged state.

-2-

"I don't know how you can sleep in the bridge. Those chairs are murder," Matt said, setting a cup down in front of her. His voice was quiet, since everyone else was asleep.

She did not reply straight away, instead she seemed to be studying the swirling patterns that the cream made in the tea. Matt was rather surprised when she set the cup down and finally responded. "It's the only place I can wake up screaming and not garner an audience," she replied, slumping in her chair. "Usually."

He glanced over at her. The boss seemed as surprised as he was by the revelation. Her hand went to her forehead, shielding her from his gaze, so Matt took the hint and looked down into his mug. Then he decided to chance it. His hand balled into a fist for a moment, as if tensing the muscles might make it safer. Her fingertips, which had been tapping lightly at the edge of the ceramic mug, stilled when he set his hand over hers.

"You're not the only one feeling this. We're all under the same kind of strain, you know?"

The shield lowered. The best part was that she did not break his hand, nor did she pull away, which was her typical MO. Remy just stared at him, it was as if he could see her mind racing in those steely blue eyes. She seemed so tired in that moment, but still resolute then something a little dark crept over her features.

Her voice was low, thready. "Yeah. The only difference is that essentially I'm the one that pushed the damn button." Her gaze fell to cup filled with a cloudy caramel-colored and quickly-cooling attempt at comfort. "When I escaped the mother ship, Zinyak was announcing his evening entertainment," she said with a little gruff snort of derision. "The execution of Earth's world leaders, mandatory attendance for all Zin. Sounded like he was planning quite the floor show. Kinzie and I thought if we got some help, we could do something."

Rubbing her temple with her unoccupied hand, she looked over at him again and laughed. "And Oleg. Motherfucker was screening his calls. Can you believe that? One second Kinzie is leaving him a voicemail, the next it was gone. Just like that. I'm groaning because the big man won't answer his phone one moment, and the world is literally gone the next. Everything destroyed in a blink, less than a blink."

Matt's chest was tight. He had not even considered imagining how it happened or what it had been like to see it. When she squeezed his hand he realized she was comforting him as much as he had been trying to offer the same to her. There was a little quiver in her grip, which prompted him to raise his gaze.

"You know he told me."

"Who told you?" Matt asked in a voice barely more than a whisper.

"Zinyak. He said that if I tried to get out of the yard again he would destroy the whole planet."

"Then why do it?"

Their conversation was slow and careful, more methodically planned out than any conversation Matt could ever remember having with anyone. He was cautious in the way he phrased his questions but Remy's replies seemed less designed despite their slowness in coming. He realized that she was working up to the admissions she was making. The hacker could see the effort it was taking to say these things; he could feel it in the change in her grip. It would tighten just before she spoke then loosen, which he presumed she did in case he wanted to pull away.

"I never did particularly well in boxes not of my own making. Plus," she noted with a little shrug, "I thought he was full of shit. I guess I should have realized earlier on that he was a little more like me."

The comparison floored him. He had seen her in action, even with some of the things she had done in the past, Matt would not have thought to align her with the alien overlord. "How so?"

"When he says it, he does it."

"Or maybe he thought it would make you back down. Make you give up."

"Fuck that!"

The response was all gut, instantaneous. It made him grin. Even now she was resolute, defiant, determined and Miller was glad for it. Her hand slipped out of his, and Matt felt a little dizzy for a moment, as if he was now floating free of whatever had anchored him in that conversation. In reply, he merely stared at her trying to maintain some type of connection that might keep him grounded.

"There's nothing left for him to take now really. Only Ben and Asha are still in the simulation, and CID keeps saying he's close."

"What about Johnny?" he asked carefully before wrapping both his hands around his mug and sipping his tea.

The protective posture returned, covering her eyes and taking a long drink from her mug. The voice almost sounded disembodied, like she was giving an answer she had to give rather than the one she wanted to give. "I don't know. Part of me thinks … knows Kinzie's right."

He leaned forward on one elbow and watched her. She was shaking her head. Then she looked up at him and he could see it-traces of the desperation that had been there when Remy ordered them to locate the plane simulation so she could get her best friend back. "It can't be possible, can it?"

Matt wanted more than anything to say yes, to see her smile, or relieve some of the strain, but it was too out of reach. It would be cruel to offer hope were there was none, wouldn't it? But, God help him, that was precisely what he wanted to do. "I …" He shrugged one shoulder rather sheepishly. "I doubt it."

Eyes moving to the blank metal wall, Remy rested her cheek against her knuckles for a long moment. "Yeah, I know. Hey, look-" Remy swallowed the remainder of her tea in a loud gulp as she stood. "I should …"

Her voice faltered when Matt stood, causing her to look up at him. "What you should do is go into the cargo bay and give the sofa a go. It's not great, but it's a damn sight better than those bridge chairs."

"I couldn't-"

"I'm going to be upstairs anyway," he added, touching her shoulder lightly as he tried to steer her toward the bay. "There are blankets and pillows in the crate next to the couch. No arguing. And the doors are pretty soundproof, so no audience if … it happens again."

Remy looked up at him with the barest hint of a smile gracing her lips for a moment. "Thanks, Matt. Again."

"Like I said. Anytime."

The hacker watched her slip into his domain. He did not know if it might help, but at least he knew she might have a chance at a more decent rest than she had been getting. He leaned against the wall and pressed his head back against the cool metal; he was still reeling. The recordings already suggested some of the things she had admitted, namely that the alien's warning. But that was not the only part of that conversation that had the young Brit spinning.

There was one thing Miller never revealed to anyone. Of the things he freely admitted, his interest in Remy McGinnis was not one, but from the first time he saw her he had been intrigued. She was beautiful and dangerous, it was a powerfully intoxicating combination that he had never really been able to get past.

-3-

In Steelport with Loren and the Syndicate, Mat had found his first domain. The organization had power and prestige and was looking to expand. It also had a target, a very high profile target. Not too far away along the coast sat the city of Stilwater. Years earlier the city had been in the news for a very deadly gang war that really pushed some political hot buttons, but since then things had been calm. The underbelly of that city was controlled by one group-the Saints. While they had been a gang, the Saints had become a media sensation in the process and they were now something all together different.

Where the Syndicate was hidden behind the scenes, the Saints were blatant and visible. Their leadership was known, even admired. They had celebrity status. As one of the slogans for their clothing line stated, "Who doesn't want to dress like Johnny Gat?" It was this image that helped to make them the Syndicate's next target. Loren wanted that income, that legitimate business connection that would help add to his organization's ability to launder its less legitimate funds.

The Syndicate had believed the media representation of the Saints; they used to be dangerous, now the gang was more like a symbol-a lucrative symbol. Philippe Loren saw Remy McGinnis as a caricature of herself and assumed the maniacal murderess reputation was largely just a construction. He had tasked Matt Miller and his Deckers with gathering any and every detail he could about the Saints. In the end it had been the Saints' own security that offered some of the best information, and his first impression after cracking the security at the headquarters in Stilwater seemed to reinforce Loren's opinions.

Johnny Gat looked at the weapons that lay on the table disassembled then he looked at the corseted blond standing to his left and smirked at her. She returned the look. What seemed meant to intimidate did little more than amuse the woman. Remy McGinnis had to be the only person on the planet that could get away with that type of thing and not wind up bleeding profusely, the hacker realized as he leaned toward the monitor.

"You're going down, Boss."

"Like hell," she bit back. Her attention turned to the sexy brunette crossing the room. "Hey Shaundi, catch!"

"Are you two at it again?" she groaned as she caught the stopwatch.

"Fuck yeah! She keeps cheatin'," Gat said.

"He's just being a spoiled little diva, because he's getting slow in his old age," the boss chided. The taunt prompted Matt to pull up the dossiers there were only two years between she and Gat.

"You might be my best friend, but it doesn't mean I won't shoot you," the man said smoothly.

"So we can have matching limps?" Remy chided with a playful lift of her eyebrow and a big grin.

"Bitch."

"Pussy."

"Mark!" Shaundi yelled, to quell the devolving exchange. "Go!"

Johnny's laugh grumbled low. The boss was silent as her hands moved with speed and precision. Remy pulled back the slide and pulled the trigger on the reassembled pistol instances before Gat. Her victory immediately inspired a really horrible victory dance, just to taunt the man rumored to be more than just her best friend.

"She won," Shaundi said apologetically.

"I still say you cheated."

"How?" Remy replied. "It's the same gun. Fuck! I reassembled one of your damn guns this time, just so you couldn't bitch. It's almost like you forgot that I've been doing this since before I could read… old man."

Johnny lunged at her but she dodged him and hopped over the back of the sofa.

The security feed was crystal clear and even had audio, which seemed odd, but Matthew Miller did not question it. It was a gift, and meant he did not have to figure out how to get a bug into the loft. It really was like watching over children, he thought and the exasperated look on Shaundi's face seemed to reinforce that idea.

Remy was lithe and quick. Her smile was bright and her laughter rang in his ears as Gat tackled her. But she tossed him onto his back and was on her feet again quickly. Matt noticed that she was leading her friend, not fighting him. He would lunge or throw a punch. Then she would dodge out of reach, occasionally delivering a pulled punch, usually to the body, which was only meant to shock or slow. But the conflict fell away when Pierce Washington, one of the other lieutenant's walked into the room with a few beers.

The peace offering meant Shaundi did not have to play referee any longer. Remy climbed over the back of the sofa and dropped herself right next to Gat. In Matt's opinion they sat way too close to one another to be merely friends, and the tabloids had been speculating about the two of them for years. The Decker leader felt his opinion was solidified when she pecked him lightly on the cheek and leaned against him as the four of them drank and discussed Ultor's newest publicity stunt.

"Ugh!" Matt groaned when he learned that Josh Birk was even considering playing a Saint. Completely degrading. He's so much better than that type of frivolous project.

Even his ire over the project choices of the Nyte Blayde star could not wholly occupy his mind. For a reason Miller never could fully explain, even to himself, he left the security feeds from the Saints' headquarters and private residences up on one of his peripheral screens all the time. While he worked on gathering other information, he often listened, sometimes he watched. It was a habit he continued once the gang came to Steelport, first in the penthouse, then in other locations once they were wired as well. Every time Kinzie threw his people out of their systems, Matt would weasel his way back in.

At the time, it was something that had to be done. Looking back, Miller was aware of just how odd it was, because his reasons were not merely professional, as it were. She fascinated him. At first it had been the visceral, the corsets and the short skirts. Then there were the curious discoveries he had made digging into her past-hints here and there that led him to delve much farther than the Syndicate had required. The more he learned, the more concerned he became. Before that fateful plane ride the hacker was certain that Loren was about to light a fire they would not be able to contain. Every byte of information peeled back layers of the carefully constructed Ultor image of the Saints' boss and Matt started to realize that Remy McGinnis was not what she seemed.

It was as true then, as it was now.

-4-

McGinnis would have to agree with the hacker's assessment of the brown and beige monstrosity in the cargo bay. The sofa was not the picture of comfort, but it was a hell of a lot better than some of the other spots she had slept in on the ship. When she hit the top of the stairs she knew in a glance that she had been played, but not in a way that pissed her off. Matt was awkwardly leaned on one of the consoles, head resting on folded arms. While Remy did not like being lied to, she could not find it in her to be angry with him, considering that …

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, as she crossed the room watching the sleeping programmer. She was used to Shaundi reminding her to eat during the day, especially if she got distracted, and since Kinzie joined the former agent had managed to keep the boss at least not completely in the dark technologically. In their own little ways all her people kind of did things to take care of the boss they way Remy did what she could to take care of them. But it was not a behavior she had expected from Matt.

Glancing down at him, he looked peaceful, innocent, but she knew enough to know that neither adjective really applied to him. Not now, not here. Leaning on the console next to his, Remy said is name with no response. Then she bent toward him and set her hand on his shoulder. "Matt … Matthew."

Uncertain why, it seemed using his full name stirred him. There was alarm in his sleep-dimmed blue eyes. She set a cup on the console; steam still billowing from the smooth-colored liquid-tea with cream and sugar, which she hoped she had neither over steeped nor over sweetened.

"You, Mr. Miller, are a liar."

He stammered at her for a moment, his still wakening brain trying to catch up with him.

"Relax, Matt," she assured with a soft smile. "I appreciate it, but in the future. Err on the side of caution and self-preservation, and don't lie to me."

The younger man blushed profusely and his eyes met hers cautiously. "I just know … we all know you haven't been sleeping. So I figured any little bit would help."

She shook her head at him, punctuating the movement with a tick of her tongue. "I should make you help me, except you look like death on a cracker."

"Still a damn sight better than you the last few weeks," Matt shot back, cradling the cup she brought him in his hands.

Remy's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow! Way to shoot a woman when she's down, Miller."

"Hey, you're the one that always told me to take any advantage I could get."

Two sips of tea and he was already more awake than she was after an hour. "You're one of those damn morning people, aren't you?"

"Not usually," he replied with a provoking smile.

Not sure if it was his intention or her inference, but Remy read implication in the look. What made it more powerful was the fact that she wanted there to be a reason beyond just the banter for him to look at her like that. She wanted there to be more than concern for your fellow man in his touch. She wanted there to be more than humane compassion in his actions. It was a feeling she had fought against for years-each time it reared up she stamped it down with a reminder that he was off limits.

"Well, I'm abandoning you to your way too unnatural chipperness," she announced as she turned and crossed to one of the simulation docks.

-5-

For the three hours she spent in the simulation, Remy was distracted, to say the least. She had actually walked right into a patrol with Kinzie yelling in her ear. After the third such random materialization at the hospital, Remy leaned against one of the ambulances and stared upward as the computer wizard currently monitoring her stupidity continued her diatribe, though none of it registered in the boss' head.

The myriad of reasons she had developed to keep Matt at a distance over the past four years allowed her to clearly remind herself yet again that even if foreign complications along the lines of international incidents and diplomatic nightmares no longer existed, personal ones still did. Matt Miller was firmly off limits-virtually untouchable. At least that was what the boss kept telling herself. But he kept popping up. Appearing when she least expected it-walking through doors and being compassionate, treating her like she was a person rather than the persona she spent decades honing. Of all the things Matt did, that was probably the hardest for her to work around. She could handle nice, she could handle gestures, but someone treating her like someone other than the boss, treating her like just plain Remy-that had not happened since Johnny died.

That errant little thought broke her calm contemplation. She immediately stood and fired off two shots at the high pitched voice yet again wondering where Brad was taking her that night. "He's not taking you anywhere. Fuck! Could you use some original dialog here, Zinyak? Shit! You're killing me, Smalls!"

"Boss? You doing all right?" Shaundi asked after the boss' yelling ended.

Remy suddenly realized Kinzie had stopped talking a while back. Her distraction must have finally pushed her friend over the edge, though the reaction was no wholly unexpected it was out of character for Kensington. But then everyone was acting a little out of character.

"Fuck if I know," the petite blond replied angrily. There were people still screaming and running around. "Oh, screw you people!"

Definitely not okay, Shaundi thought as the gunshots resounded in her ears. When the clip was empty, the boss loaded another as her Lieutenant watched the information scrolling across the screen.

"Boss, you have some security forces in bound."

"Yeah, whatever."

Remy continued picking off civilians until the sirens arrived and then she turned her weapons on the virtual Steelport police in the sad gray uniforms. She took a little extra glee out of shooting that small town sheriff between the eyes whenever he showed up in one of the cars filled with reinforcements.

"The golden orb is in the area, Sweetie," Shaundi announced.

Both women knew Shaundi was only doing it to be helpful. Just like they also both knew McGinnis did not give a good goddamn about the orb, or the encroaching number of Zin, in that particular moment, though she had moved to the shotgun. It was a precise dance-fire off her shells, take cover, reload. When ran out of shells, it would get much more entertaining; another thing both women knew.

-6-

"Oh shit!" Pierce howled when Remy snapped the neck of about the fifth Sheriff to happen into the area.

Shaundi had lost count of the number of constructs the boss had gone through, after the first ten minutes. This was always Remy's type of thing, and Johnny's-hold off insurmountable odds. The boss had brought down enough heat that she had resorted to using the Zin weapons against their own men. And she was no longer pulling Dirty Harry moves. Instead the tiny blonde was shooting from cover incidentally offered by Zin with poor driving skills. The growing collection of cars surrounding the boss' position made the perfect firing nest.

"You know, Boss, I miss this shit sometimes. Like that time the Ronin tried to push back into the waterfront," Pierce said with a wistful grin.

"Yeah, the boss got shot and stabbed during that remember."

"I know. But I didn't. It was awesome."

"Shit. Didn't Johnny beat me in that one?" Remy asked, shaking her hand after overheating the rifle. "Damn piece of shit. This is why I like people guns. I don't have to blow on the fucking thing, change a clip and carnage ensues."

"I don't know. After the Casino, I stopped playing that little game with you guys."

Remy laughed. "That is because even having to arm that damn bomb, Johnny still kicked your ass."

"Eh, screw you," Pierce said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I see that's still a sore spot."

"Whatever. So, you want a hand or what?"

"Nah. I'll probably get over run or bored soon anyway," Remy replied, nonchalantly, as the weapon locked up on her again. "Seriously?"

Shaundi and Pierce both leaned over the graphic console and watched her jump onto the hood of one of the cars and start hitting Zin with the rifle.

"Silly piece of crap. Goddamn Mickey Mouse wannabe rifle," She annunciated each word as she hit aliens with the overheating weapon.

A lucky shot to the shoulder staggered her.

"Wait your turn," she growled in reply, tossing an ice blast in the general vicinity that the shot had come from. When she hit a frozen alien with the butt of the rifle, he shattered. The laugh it garnered was malevolent; neither of the lieutenants had heard that particular laugh in a very long time.

"All right you spiky little wrinkled bastards. I'm out of here," the boss announced before she jumped onto the tracks of the El running over the street.

Shaundi and Pierce shared a look, both of them hoping that Remy would be in a calmer mood once she got to the door and out of the simulation. CID was close but he did not know what to, which was a problem, because Remy had been adamant in her directive to the AI. She wanted Asha located. And his uncertainty about the target was not going to go over well.